Tag Archives: kink

My Big, Fat, Poly, Kinky Life


So, one of the reasons I’ve been trying so hard to catch up on all these entries the last couple of days is because the next couple weeks are going to be…interesting.

Or rather, the next couple weekends.
I have an amazing, sweet, spitfire of a metamour through Ryan that is one of his long distance partners. She’s going to be in town starting tonight, and tomorrow her, Ryan, and I are going up to a pagan camp ground for the weekend to celebrate Samhain. This is one trip where I can’t possibly begin to have any expectations about how it’s going to go or what will play out..and I’m excited about the prospect of that.
There are some worries, little brain squirrels I’m trying to quell. I’ve never been in a situation where it’s been such an extended amount of time of sharing a partner. We will be together for three days. That’s three days where I get my Daddy but I don’t. And I honestly requested that. When Ryan invited me on the trip I said I would go on the condition that my time and hers were equal, that the attention was equal..meaning me coming didn’t take away from the attention he would give her. I adore them together. I think she’s absolutely fantastic for him, and brings out some of his best nature whenever they’re together. But, I am human. I do get jealous.
The jealousy… doesn’t manifest in the ways you would expect. I’m not jealous she’s with him.. Not at all. I feel quite a lot of compersion when I think of the two of them. The jealousy is more in that so often when I look at her I see so much of what I lack. Shes in better shape than I am. Her life is much more put together and stable. She’s a better communicator, while I still get stuck when I’m upset or something is wrong.
But..I also know that, for some reason, she tends to do the same thing with me and can have a similar type of jealousy at times. There are many reasons we get along well.
I know that Ryan would hang the moon for her. But I also know that he would shoot up a couple of stars for me. There is.. a nice balance. But it’s still uncharted territory, so much so that her and I each have safewords to use if something isn’t right and we need to talk to Ryan in private, nicknames that we normally wouldn’t use with him to get his attention. Mine is puddin’, as in Harley Quinn in the Joker.. After all, I am Daddy’s little monster and it doesn’t get much more unhealthy than the two of them.
There has been a LOT of preparation for this trip. I expected most of it. Food prep, camping supply prep. Things like that. I didn’t expect the emotional prep, and the amount of care and consideration that Ryan would put in to making sure I was alright and that we got our time together. Tuesday was, of course, Halloween. It was also our last chance to have a private date for about two weeks. It’s not that I’m not going to see him. I’m actually going to spend quite a lot of time with my Daddy in the next couple of weeks.. it’s that I will be sharing him or he will be sharing me for all of it.
Ryan has been teaching me slowly not to have expectations. To go with the flow. To be in the moment. And so, when I requested to spend Halloween with him I didn’t expect a yes or a no. We have a packed weekend, and I would understand if he said no, he needed the night to himself. I will be clinging to Monday night for all it’s worth as my one night of recovery before poly insanity part two begins.. but more on that in a bit. He didn’t say no.. At the end of our date on Sunday he asked me to come over on Tuesday evening.
Halloween is one of my favorite days of the year, and I have my traditions. I eat pizza. I watch Nightmare before Christmas. I requested both these things of Ryan.. He got free tasty Tibetan curry from work that would have been enough to feed us. He still ordered us pizza. I didn’t find out until halfway through the movie that he’s not a huge fan of Nightmare (it’s fairly pervasive throughout the kink community as a staple..my fault for assuming). He put it on to make me happy… and was happy making me happy and cuddling with me. And I have to admit, I was utterly content curled up in my Daddy’s arms, wearing a bat onesie that he got for me (I’m his little fruit bat ^.^) watching one of my favorite movies and sharing a couple small traditions with him.. but that’s not where the prep and care ended.
Wednesday is always a long day for Ryan. He works in the city, drives home, changes, and comes back out for BaGG. Some nights we play. Others, we just socialize with friends. I expected last night to be a socialize night because we were both tired and had just spent time together the night before even though we didn’t play.. I was very, very wrong. Daddy got a new bat. He was very excited to try the new bat. On my ass. For the record, oww.
I didn’t know I needed the owies until they started… didn’t know I needed that connection, that reassurance from him with my pretty, amazing meta coming the next day. I love playing with Ryan.. The level of connection he maintains is unlike anything I’ve felt with others, even James. He knows just the right moments to touch and check in, when I need a push, a “You can take more for Daddy, can’t you kitten?”. I didn’t know that I needed, “Who’s Daddy’s good girl?” I did. The pretty meta is coming. Ryan will be sharing time with both of us. She is his pretty, amazing, creative, spitfire partner. I’m Daddy’s good girl, Daddy’s kitten, Daddy’s poppet and lil love.. They are both important. My Daddy is very good at figuring out what I need long before I know how to vocalize it..
Can you see why I have little hesitations about this trip?
But wait, there’s more!! Oh yes, this is but episode one of my big, fat, poly, kinky life. We get back from the camping trip on Sunday. On Tuesday, I am given a tremendous gift. My darling Ace is coming to visit me for an entire WEEK. After a decade of knowing one another and only 24 precious hours in person together.. My brain can not fully wrap itself around the concept of it yet.
He will be coming with me to BaGG the next night.. It will be his birthday BaGG. He..hehehehe… It will also mean sharing BaGG with him, and him and Daddy spending time together..something that has me THRILLED. And him and James spending time together..something that..has me more hesitant. James does not seem to react to me having partners well..but that’s its own separate blog entry.. For now..focusing on my Ace.
I get him for BaGG, a night of just us, and then that Friday begins Surrender. Me, Ryan, and Ace will all be in a hotel room together, along with one of my kinky sisters and her partner. To say I am excited and nervous… I can’t even tell you. There are visions of threesomes and double topping and passing off and…all the yummy dancing in my head. I am nervous to see how my brain handles splitting time with the two of them, and with the very different dynamics that I have with each man.
Top it all off with Surrender being the anniversary of the first time James and I played, and James being responsible for my pictures there…yeah..there are nerves. There are many nerves. I am curious to see how Ace reacts to my little self, a side of me he’s never seen. I am curious also to see how Ryan reacts to my toppy side controlling Ace, and then the fluidity of Ace topping me.
To add to the insanity, these two men that I love so much that will get to share space with one another have birthdays about two weeks apart. I have plans for both of them.. Ryan knows some of his. Ace has no idea. I get my Ace through until the following Tuesday, and that Monday after Surrender will be a day for him. I’ve taken off, and I plan on showing him my home and spoiling him after he is done spoiling me at Surrender.
It is a lot, me sharing Ryan and then Ryan sharing me back to back..but I have faith in us, as I have faith in my meta and my Ace. I plan on bringing a journal along to each event and writing at least once during each of the days. These entries will be turned into blog posts after. Another new thing, another experiment.. I am hopeful that it will work out.
The cherry on top of all of this is the moment of re-connection and calm. The day after Ace goes back to his nesting partner and his life in NC is Ryan’s birthday BaGG. So, after the camping, the cons, the sharing and the excitement, I get to crawl on a spanking bench in front of my community and take spankings for my Daddy’s birthday. The timing could not be better. 
See you on the others side of all this insanity, readers.
Yours, until then
-Rene
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Teacher’s Pet


Cal and I have been dancing around each other for four years, on and off.

Until fairly recently, we’ve gone in cycles of being connected and falling out of contact, usually because a partner of his has blacklisted me yet again. I stopped being a threat to his partners a long time ago romantically. Nevertheless, until recently it’s been an ongoing thing that I’ve been aware of. Cal will come back. We will get in close contact again. He will disappear. Again.
Lately, and lately being the last few months, he hasn’t. It’s been nice having my old teacher around, and having him meet those that I consider my people and be part of my family as he considers me part of his. As I’ve grown and matured in the kink scene here in San Francisco, Cal has become something that I never thought he would be.
Safe.
We are aware that we are on each other’s radar, and have been forever. We are also much more aware now of each other’s limits than we were when we first started this little dance of ours. Neither of us is any sort of ‘primary’ material for the other. However, Cal has become a trusted confidant for myself and he has always respected the weird, complicated relationships I have with the people (cough cough James) I have in my life. He lets me figure things out in my own time, though will give me a good mental thump when I need it and I’m stuck in my own way. He’s honest with me, sometimes brutally, and I’m grateful for that.
I had a hard weekend ahead of me a couple weekends ago. James had asked me to trek him up and back to a campsite two hours north of him, and I was the stupid ass that agreed. It ate up my weekend, except for Saturday evening, which Ryan was busy for. I was frustrated, frazzled, and in desperate need of a good beating. Cal had offered to ‘break me’ if I needed it weeks before. And so, I finally took him up on it and asked him to a party I don’t normally go to, with both James away and Daddy busy and my brain fairly safe from squirrels.
It was Meet Market, an auction not unlike Master’s Den, however anyone is allowed to auction themselves off. Top. Bottom. It doesn’t matter. It’s a bonkers party with many of the people showing up that don’t like the hetoronormative spin that Master’s Den has. I can understand that, however I also enjoy the vetting system of the Master’s Den parties, and the talk about proper behavior that they have before. I trust the people at the Master’s Den parties more.
I was a dittering mess before the party, texting Ryan (whose playdate ended up having to cancel ūüė¶ ) about what I should wear, all the nerves of finally having a scene after four years of sexual tension. I ended up getting to the party late, having to park blocks away and fight catcalls along the way to the citadel door. Cal was kind enough to pay my entry once my frazzled self got inside, and together we watched the Meet Market auction.
I tried to bid on a couple pretty things to beat, to no avail. All of those that I would enjoy playing with went for extremely high prices, and even with Cal’s and mine’s money envelopes combined we didn’t have that much. He and I both rolled our eyes, chuckled and winced at all the ‘this is my first time’ers.. Those whose first kinky event it was. First play. First auction. We were two jaded kinksters in a sea of noobs; him because of the amount of time he’s been involved in kink and me because of frequency in the time I had been involved. I learned fast, especially with him as my jumping off point.
After the auction and its follies we searched for a place to play. “Cross or bench?” He asked. I’ve always preferred crosses, to brace myself against hard impact.
We ended up at the predicament chair, a piece of equipment that essentially looks like a shorter, fatter cross with a chair attachment for when you decide to flip the brat around and beat the crap out of their front. The shorter worked to my advantage. Normally I’m too short to be shackled to crosses with just simple clips. His cuffs managed it without problem. I braced myself, the edge of the chair only slightly touching my stomach, prepared to show off and show him just how tough I had become. That I was far from the little one that he had found so long ago.
“How hard do you want me to go?” he asked. After four years of waiting, I asked him not to be nice
BAM. Holy crap. I saw stars. The wind left me in one foul swoop as his palm slammed into my ass. To my shock I realized he could actually PALM my ass (no small thing…as my ass is no small thing…). I had always considered Cal’s hand to be rather small. His fingers are short. Turns out, his palms are massive. And hurt like a sonofabitch.
Bam bam bam. Tears started rolling down my cheeks as he hit me full force, with no warm up. I felt disappointed in myself. I thought I could take more.
There is something about Cal, probably because he is where I started and because of how we started, that always feels like I’m letting him down. That I’m sub par. That I fall flat at what he expected me to be. Logically, this is not the case. But logic and emotion are two radically different things.
He checked in with me after a few of the harder blows and in a shaky voice I tried to express how I was feeling; that I felt like I wasn’t good enough all over again and that I was letting him down.
“Oh no!” he said with a grin. “You’re not disappointing me at all. I told you I hit hard. I’m just happy that this is finally happening!” And to tell you the truth, I was too.
I registered the noises that came out of my mouth as he laid in to me with hands, with a wooden paddle, and with his flogger as well as mine. They were screams that only one other person had managed to wretch out of me since I had stared playing.
He hit harder than James.
It was a startling revelation, but also rather freeing. If I had started with a warm up (as any smart submissive not hell bent on showing off to her former teacher would have) I would have lasted longer, but even with the length of our scene being rather short I felt the catharsis that came with especially hard blows. There were points that he hit me so hard that my feet curled up under me and I hung from the cuffs. I screamed bloody murder. I shook. I cried. I wanted more, and was bound and determined not to be the one that called for the end of the scene.
I wore him out. I have various stages to hard scenes; transitions that my mind does. When I’m adjusting to the pain I scream and shake. When I’m more used to it I start cursing. When I’m flying I become much more silent. I was cursing, playful, and jumping when he leaned in close to my ear and said, “Okay, the mean man is warn out. I’m done.” And I giggled.
He set my wrists free and let me drop to my knees for a moment to recover before I cleaned off the chair and we went to cuddle. It was..easy…and yes, I very much felt safe and protected. That big bear of a man wouldn’t let anything hurt me, and knowing that..is an immense blessing. He’s a good man, at least to me. The cuddles were nice, the chatter our normal dialogue..and I found myself looking forward to the next time he beat the crap out of me.
The only thing I would change is with Cal I would actually climb up on a spanking bench. He’s not used to small people…I am tiny. I think he’s gotten so used to my tiny that he forgets sometimes… When he tried to flog me the falls either hit my tail bone or my neck, and that made me sad as this little leather slut loves a good flogging.. But that was discussed. Lessons were learned, and I was gifted with another safe outlet to find catharsis. He can make me fly just as easily as James could, without the emotional baggage attached… I can keep up with him and let him play heavy when his partners tend to be..fluffier, newer, and not quite used to a thorough beating. The balance is nice, and easy.
I suppose this four year dance is finally paying off. We are finding balance with one another..and I look forward to discovering more.
yours, most certainly a pain slut at times
-Rene

Dangerous Game

(I apologize for being so behind in posts, lovelies. Much has happened and so I will be posting a couple in rapid succession. It just took me a wee bit to get off the hamster wheel of life long enough to actually write about it).

I feel your fingers
Cold on my shoulder
Your chilling touch
As it runs down my spine
Watcing your eyes
As they invade my soul
Forbidden pleasures
I’m afraid to make mine…¬†

A world ago, on one of our car rides home, James and I talked about songs summed up kink for us. We’re both theatre geeks.. a lot of kinksers are, or started that way, and have a love of musicals. My first introduction to kink was Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera. His, he told me, was Dangerous Game from Jekyll and Hyde.

“It’s the perfect scene,” he told me. “Just taboo enough that you can feel yourself losing control, but not so far gone that true harm is done.”

Over a year after that conversation, I sat in the Citadel’s photo room with him, on my perch as always. It was another night, another working party with the regulars. I had a cleanup shift. James was shooting. It was one of my favorites; a nerd themed party that gets busy but not bonkers and attracts some of my favorite people.

We have our routines, he and I, for various settings. Our rituals to continue the dance that is our complicated relationships. One of those steps is me asking in a slow moment if James would like to duel. Our Yu-Gi-Ioh cards have been the preferred, safe method of play since my collar came off. It’s topping, but without the intimacy of physical touch. …It wasn’t nearly as satisfying, but it got me by.

“Not today.” He said when I showed him my deck box and pouted. “I’m actually not in much of a dueling mood.” That’s..odd for him. Very. And I asked what was up. “I don’t know.” He said. He paused and looked at me. “It’s just a weird day.”

Sometimes that man just knows too much.

At the touch of your hand
At the sound of your voice
At the moment your eyes meet mine
I am out of my mind
I am out of control
Full of feelings I can’t define!¬†

“I want you to ask for your collar back.”

The day before the party I was at Daddy’s. It had been a rough night. I had planned to spend the night with Ryan, but at the last minute James had asked me for a ride home. He had a doctor’s appointment early in the morning and would have been stranded without my help. I promised him long ago that if he ever actually needed me that I would be there… and it as the first time I had hesitated.

My feelings for Ryan are… strong. Kick in the teeth strong. He’s the one I spend the most time with. We talk almost constantly at this point, and he knows far too many of my secrets. He has seen parts of my mind that James hasn’t even uncovered, and instead of running stood and faced demons that would have made anyone else head for the hills. I love him. I trust him absolutely.

…I… couldn’t make myself say no to James when he needed me, and so asked my Daddy if I could crawl into bed after driving James.

Selfishly, I’m glad I asked. The ride back with James was fantastic, with banter and stories and him so excited about his new motorized attachment to his chair. The talking was easy and unfiltered. With the only off-limits topic being Ryan.

I crawled into bed with Ryan after 5 am, the cost of taking James all the way to Napa and then driving back to Oakland. And I knew I was it hot water. How I didn’t see two Dominant men in my life butting heads as an eventuality I don’t know, but a bit of a pissing contest had started between the two. Ryan has gotten the closest to “taking Jame’s spot”, making rules for me, setting boundaries and bedtimes. Checking in with me about partners and relationships and statuses… It’s..a primary role without the label. Cause labels can be very bad. James did not respond well to Ryan setting rules for me. Rules he disagreed with, and pushes repeatedly in a “No, I know you best” bullheaded sort of way.

Both men care for me. In very different ways. And both were getting dangerously close to killing one another. To the point where my Daddy asked me to close the door with my former Master once and for all the following morning. There had been other slights, on both sides. Things had been building.

“I will talk to James tomorrow.” I promised. And I would. I promised I would. I did not promise I could close that door. But I could modify the entrance to make it more healthy, for James, Ryan, and myself.

It’s a sin with no name
Like a hand in a flame
And our senses proclaim
It’s a dangerous game!

It was towards the end of the night that the regulars started drifting into the back room to hang out. I moved to the main cluster of chairs with friends on either side and James across from me. The talk turned, as is often did, to James’s toys. He had gotten two new pretties at Dore Alley and had been showing them off almost non-stop since, demoing them when he was allowed.

A beautiful creature from Boston came into the photo room and started chatting with us. She watched how James and I interracted and asked me quietly what our relationship was as we exchanged Fetlife information. I told her the honest truth; the truth that has remained since day one.

“He was my Master. I was his slave. He took my collar back over a year ago. I still love him. I do what I can, and accept the relationship that I am permitted to have with him.” I play by his rules. Or, I try to.

She got teary eyed. “That’s beautiful.”

In a way, I suppose it is, but it’s also incredibly masochistic.

A crowd had drifted into our little room. James turned to face us and join in on the conversation. I was curled up cross-legged across from him, at eye level. This is a rarity for me. It make me nervous. We started telling stories of past parties and surprisingly, he started telling stories of our past. Little things that I had forgotten, or tucked away for another time when sifting through the memories would be less painful. The pinky he used to dig into my skin and drill with that I hated. The hair pulls to kill off some of my worst fatigue headaches when we pushed ourselves too hard. How when the back room got slow he would slam down on my ass to get me to scream and pull people in. A scream that no one in that room had heard come from me. They had all become my friends after the collar came off.

A darker dream
That has no ending
That’s so unreal
You believe that it’s true!
A dance of death
Out of a mystery tale
The frighted princess
Doesn’t know what to do!

James brought out his big knife. Now, I have a love affair with this knife so intense that it transcends the affair with its wielder. James spanks with it, and then will slap you across the ass with the sheathe. The combo is by far one of my favorite sensations on the planet. I relish it.

He started giving some of the others tastes of it and I watched, drooling as I have in times past. I knew better, at this point, then to ask for play. He spanked the pretty Boston girl, and then asked if she would like to feel the knife.

She was uncertain.

I don’t know what possessed me to open my mouth. I had asked the questions countless times and doubted that I would end up with a different answer. But, nontheless, I asked. “Would you feel more comfortable if someone demoed the knife before you were hit with it?”

Both her and James turned to me. He had his eyebrow raised. I crept over and grabbed the knife off the table where it laid, then walked over to him and spoke low enough for only him to here.

“There is no going backwards. We will not be getting back together. If we do, it will be a hard reboot form the ground up. That starts as play partners again, and trusting each other on that level. I know this knife. I know it better than most. I would like to feel it again.”

He grinned, and shocked the hell outta me. “Well, get over there!”

Will the ghosts go away? (No)
Will she will them to stay? (No)
Either way, t here’s no way to win

All I know is I’m lost
And I’m counting the costs
My emotions are in a spin

He hit me, without reserve, and gods did it feel glorious. The cold steel against my ass, the blade that I knew was a sharp, working blade that he had used to slit animal’s throats before (he lives on a farm..). The harsh SLAP of the sheathe as it hit me and reddened my ass.

It was short..maybe ten minutes. I caught my face during it in the mirrored wall. The bliss. Caught his reflection. The grin. ‘Oh godde’ I thought. ‘Oh godde this is too familiar. I’m in trouble. How can this still feel so good? I forgot how good it felt’

My turn ended soon enough. Others went. There was more talk. More stories. And then a round with more toys. His wooden sword and dagger, which I had yet to feel.

Again, I got bold. About ten minutes before the party was to end I crept over and took the dagger off the table. I walked over to him, the timid mouse I had once been to him. “You know. I haven’t felt this one before, ever.” He met my eyes. Motioned to the cross. I got back in position, bracing my knees against the cross at the memory of his blows and hugging the center as I once had countless times before.

I don’t know who’s to blame
It’s a crime and a shame
But it’s true all the same
It’s a dangerous game.¬†

I didn’t expect his hands. The hard wood of the dagger, I expected. The softer wood of the sword as well. But his hands. The double blows I had craved for so long, dreamed about, fantasized about. I hadn’t expected a scene.

I howled under his hands, screeching and squealing as I hadn’t in over a year and a half. I had forgotten how sweet his particular brand of sadism felt, how he switched up sensations just as my body adjusted..I didn’t expect him to still know and remember my body’s responses and reactions. He dug his pinky into my ass and I nearly wept as memories came rushing back; things I had tried to forget. Things from when I was his.

I saw him out of the corner of my eye place the toys back on the table and let myself sag against the cross, recovering. My ass was hot, my voice hoarse, and I knew that was barely a warm up for him. We had played for over an hour easily every time we had scened, and this had been only a few minutes.

No one speaks
Not one word
But what words are in our eyes
Silence speaks
Loud and clear
All the words we don’t want to hear!

“I missed it!” Our friend stood in the doorway of the photo room, one of the citadel managers that had been keeping an eye on the party. “I heard the screams and I rushed over, and I missed it!”

James turned to me and grinned, then went back to the table.

“Well. Which would you like me to hit her with?” I stared at him in shock. I thought that taste was it. That we were done.

“Whichever one hurts more?” I groaned. He chuckled. We began again.

At the touch of your hand
At the sound of your voice
At the moment your eyes meet mine
I am losing my mind
I am losing control
Full of feelings I can’t define!

He wasn’t gingerly, which I had expected him to be after so long without playing. After all the talk of how he couldn’t trust me in that way. After how he wasn’t comfortable. He pushed me. He slammed into me for a good 20 minutes using the toys, his nails, his hands. I let myself fall, feeling a release I hadn’t known I was craving. I flew so easily with James, so naturally. I had gotten so accustomed to his ramp up and play that my body fell into the memory of it with no resistance.

Again, I watched my face. Again, I watched his. There was a brief wonder as to why but I shoved it away and enjoyed the feeling of him whaling on my ass. Even through panties, I could feel the bruises forming. I don’t bruise anymore. I get deep tissue bruises, but it is almost impossible to mark me.

He did it so easily, without breaking a sweat.

Eventually, the blows calmed. He pealed me off the cross and pulled me into his arms, holding me. My body shook as I sobbed. I think I muttered several, ‘oh my godde’s and ‘thank you’s and ‘wow’s. My body calmed. I pulled away. We both smiled at one another, and then he gave me another quick smack and sent me off to cleanup.

It’s a sin with no name
No remorse and no shame
Fire, fury and flame
Cos’ the devil’s to blame!

We didn’t talk about the play during cleanup. Or after that. I collected his photo signs and folded up the backdrop with him as I had countless parties before. We joked around, talked a bit, and avoided the pink elephant in the room. He had hit me. For the first time in over a year. I had loved it. I had drawn a new boundary in the sand with our relationship, asking for a hard reset instead of ever getting my collar and ring back.

And I didn’t know what any of it meant. I didn’t know if things had changed. If he was suddenly comfortable playing with me now, or if it had just been a weird night. If this was progress toward a more amicable friendship and relationship, or if this was a child throwing a tantrum at his toy almost being taken away. I knew I wanted to do it again, and that is, I think, what scared me the most. I didn’t know what I was going to tell Daddy. There had been a shift in mine and James’s interactions, but I don’t think it was a shift that either of us had expected.

It has been two months since he touched me, and we still haven’t talked about the scene. What it meant. If anything. The next week before BaGG during our duel, while I still wore his bruises, I baited him. Saying he could always beat me for my brattiness later.

“Well we know that’s not going to happen.”
“Meh, never say never.”

Paranoid me even checked in after, making sure that the joking and kidding was okay. That it was just joking. That this new level of banter was alright and that I wasn’t overstepping.. Instead I was overthinking.

I still don’t know what any of it means, especially now.

Daddy still doesn’t like him. Two days ago, he asked me to give up my friendship with James.

I don’t know what anything means anymore.

And the angels proclaim
It’s a dangerous game…

-Rene

 

BDSM and Sex

I’ve seen a couple Dominants write about this topic, but rarely is it discussed from a submissive’s point of view.
Sex and BDSM are two things that are often closely linked together, and it’s little wonder as to why. We, especially submissives, tend to dress up in revealing clothing (or no clothing at all). We are seen as sexy, sensual creatures. BDSM is still seen as a rather taboo thing, and taboos in and of themselves tend to have an erotic twist to them.
But the reality is, there is so much more to BDSM and kink than sex, and often sex can manage to not play a part in the equation at all.
I am a rather sexual being. I have been since my early teens. I once explained to a partner that I will very rarely say no to sex when a partner is interested, even if I’m exhausted or low on spoons or some such thing. However, it’s hardly something that is required for me to be in a relationship with someone.
A main dynamic in all of my relationships is some sort of power exchange. For some, like my relationship with my Ace, that exchange is incredibly fluid. In the span of five minutes I can go from calling him sir to him calling me ma’am…and that’s just how we work.. For others, like Ryan and Chris, they are always my Daddy and my Sir. I willingly always hand over a certain degree of power to them, in different ways, and it pleases both the top to receive the power and the bottom to give it, immensely.
Chris and I haven’t had a sexual relationship for over a year now. We started out VERY sexual (honestly, I can understand the appeal of wanting to fuck like rabbits with someone half your age :P) and there was a time when it was a rocky transition between our sexual relationship and just having a D/s relationship. It’s not to say that I didn’t miss all the fucking..I mean..for the love of godde he managed to fuck through a condom at one point he was pounding me so hard..and that was wonderful. But there are other things that can be even more wonderful than that
The power exchange was still there..it was just that when we played we didn’t fuck after. If anything, the lack of sex meant that intensity was redirected elsewhere. I was even more devoted when we were in scene, even more willing to take pain for him, to learn new tricks and positions to please him. Our dynamic has still mange to keep its edge after two years, it’s just that the edge has changed. There are times when I ask for reassurances that he’s still attracted to me, and he is quick good at communicating that with kisses, and ‘sexy angels’ and a hand on my ass at times. There is still spice, still za za zoo, and yes, it can still be VERY sexy.
I didn’t honestly know how sex with Ryan was going to work the further down the DDlg rabbit hole we went.. if we were going to engage in dark age play or not. I didn’t know, personally, if I would be comfortable letting my Daddy ‘violate my princess parts’ when I’ve mentally regressed to a two year old..
Yes, we go there. And yes, it is naughty as fuck and we love every second of it. But what gets me wet starts far before fucking.
Saturday, Ryan and I went to Flash at the Citadel. I dressed up as his little fruit bat for the Halloween party; made pretty wings and all and wore a onesie for a bit that he had gotten for me that was a bat with wings and all (IT’S SO FLUFFY). After a bit of socializing and a wee bite of food he led me to a cross, stripped me out of what was not safe to cut off, and tied me to the damn thing so I couldn’t run away.
It was NOT an easy scene. We played for over an hour, staring with knife play slicing off my body stocking and ending with a curry comb slicing open my ass and leaving beautiful marks and drips of blood in its wake. In between there was a metal cane that I have a love/hate relationship with, wooden canes that make me yelp, a meanie stick that terrifies me, and a foam bat that makes fantastic sounds when slammed against my ass. And of course, Daddy’s hands.
But, as much as the pain and adrenaline that follow are wonderful at times, those were not what kept me up on that cross for an hour. What kept me up there were the moments when Daddy would put down the mean, wrap an arm around my chest or a hand around my throat, and growl in my ear,
“You can take it for Daddy? Can’t you?”
“Are you still with me, kitten? Can  you take more for Daddy?”
“You are doing sooo well, lil love. I’m so proud of you. I’d like to do a little more. Can you do that?”
Always that asking. THAT is what sates me. That is what keeps me going.
Can you do this for me, little one? Can you take this, not for you, but because it pleases me to do this to you? Can you serve me in this way?
Absolutely, yes.
And taking what is given to me, what my partner asks of me to take, will nine times out of ten be even more satiating to me than a good fucking, as was the case on Saturday night.
Aftercare was very much needed after our scene. Normally I bounce back pretty quickly. Within 10-20 minutes I may still be cuddly, but I’ll be chatty and smiling and goofing around. I was so sated, so sore in the best of ways, that I just wanted to cuddle and sleep. My ass was so raw I had to wear panties to protect the couches from my blood (…mmm….more please, Daddy), and the best feeling in the WORLD after such a hard and long beating was curling up in Daddy’s arms and letting my eyes fall closed, knowing he would wake me if he needed me. Knowing I was safe. I didn’t want more. I didn’t want to rile energy to climb on top and fuck him (even though it’s the citadel..that kind of thing is allowed, and sometimes encouraged). I just waned cuddles and kisses and a safe place to rest.
BDSM is so much more than sex. It’s trust, and constant learning, and knowing how much power to give to who and where to draw your lines. It’s understanding whose arms you truly feel safe sleeping in, and letting yourself go there when the time is right. It’s pushing your own personal limits in healthy ways, communication, thrills adrenaline, mind fucks. And yes. Sometimes sex.
But. Why would you want to focus on sex..where there is so much more?
Yours, ever exploring.
-Rene

Teacher, Mine

Relationships go in cycles, or so it seems. At least, mine always have. Those who are meant to stick around in your life cycle back around in one way or another.

One of those that has cycled back for me is Cal, the person who started all of this. I still chuckle when I think about how I was when I started this journey. Monogamous, green, terrified of pain. Spankings were far from enjoyable for me and knives terrified me.

Now, most of that is the opposite.

Cal and I have danced around each other for years now… and we’re still dancing. It’s never been the right time. Things have always gotten in the way. He hasn’t been available. I haven’t been. And so, I swallowed the bits of desire that remained after his last breakup and told myself, over and over and over, I would be a safe person for him. I would be a friend.

What I didn’t factor in was that nothing about Cal is safe. At least for me.

I have several people that have always been kryptonite for me, just on a visceral level. James is one of them. He gets to me on every level. His voice, his smell, his presence… Cal is another one. When I was his mentee I would sleep in tee shirts that smelled of him. I think I still have one of his old green shirts stashed away that I sleep in on colder nights (I don’t normally wear shirts to bed. I get strangled by them). He figured out how to fuck my mind before he ever got to my body, which hardly helped things when I was first starting out. And he was protective of me. All things that give me a lady boner.

He started coming to BaGG, on and off, a couple of months ago. He saw James again (James doesn’t like him), met my Daddy and my Sir. BaGG… is a work in progress for Cal and I. The first time he got me shit faced on scotch and left me before saying goodbye and after making out with me. Several times. And telling me that he would be there long after James was gone, and we would end up together because we’re both too broken not to. The second was similar to the first, only I was more sober and stuck him on a stool for the last hour of the night to sober up while I rubbed at bruises he left on my neck. He’s into breath play, which is something I also love, but when he’s drunk his hands are very rough. And I was afraid.

Still. There had been kisses. And hugs. And he called me little one.

I found myself protective of this man, broken again by a relationship that I saw going down in flames long before it did. And I found myself terrified of him as well. He apologized for the incidents and promised to try and manage the alcohol more. He’s hurt, physically, and not eating as much as normally, and so alochol is affecting him more strongly than it normally does.

There is a war in my head when it comes to Cal. There is the good, protective friend that kinda wants to guide him back into our local scene and then there’s the submissive chomping at the bit to prove herself to him. To show what he missed. It’s the submissive that gets me in trouble, in ways that I didn’t see coming. And it’s the submissive that still.. can’t help but react to him. Smell. Voice. Presence. ESPECIALLY when he milks it. When he purrs my nickname after too many drinks and I tell my brain to shut up for a minute so I can enjoy.

He’s gotten better. We both have. Thank godde for time, firm boundaries, and bunnies. He has a new love that has slowly wrangled a lot of the darkness he has been carrying..and it means he’s behaving a lot more. And she is lovely.. Full compersion here. She’s the right age and the right temperment to actually be GOOD for him after his string of lemons, and I’m happy for him. I truly, honestly am. I just…have brain squirrels.

Last week, Cal came to BaGG. I was freshly back from a trip east and felt like absolute shit. I now know I probably had a fever..but I was determined to go. My friends wanted to see me. My meta wanted to talk about her trip and mine. I wanted my time with James. I was getting there.

I spent a good portion of the night on my knees, which were so sore they could barely support my weight. I¬†didn’t think about this, until Cal saw me do it in the back of the smoking alley.

His hands were in my hair before I could warn him not to. He pet me gently, and I purred. Daddy was right in front of me. I knew it was safe, and Cal kept saying it wasn’t sexual. He was careful not to call me my nickname. I was careful not to call him sir. We were Cal and Rene and it was just a few head pets when I was in pain.

Later in the back room, he hugged me hard. He gets emotional after a few drinks and has a habit of thanking me for still being around.. which I appreciate. The hug captured my head. He had his hand in my hair and pulled, hard. I whimpered and reached for Daddy’s shirt, tugging just as hard. It was a signal we had agreed upon earlier in the evening that I would do when I was scared. Daddy interviened, gently pulling Cal off of me while my meta calmed me down. I blamed the last double he had and tried to shake it off.

It’s just with alcohol that I find myself on edge with Cal. When four or five drinks are removed he’s a safehaven. I crashed at his place after a play party last weekend, grateful for the couch and a day when I didn’t have to pay a bridge toll in order to get to work. He hugged me hello and I smelled him and immediately knew cuddling was out of the question. I put a big, fat blanket between he and I on the couch until he went to crash for the evening.

The next morning I tried to sneak out, dressing quickly for breakfast with Chris and scampering out the door. I dressed quickly before tossled hair and a furrowed brow stumbled outside, slightly confused. He was adorable. Bits of me melted that had been holding firm, and I smiled. He hugged me goodbye a beat too long. A dangerous beat. I wanted to kiss him.

But. I also want his head on straight. I want him established with his new parter. I want him happy and mostly whole. I want him to know that I am safe, and stable, and honestly pretty fucking close to poly saturated right now. I want to see more than one BaGG in a row without me getting scared of him physically harming me.

I want time, that lovely balm that heals all things, to finally decide the course for Cal and I. I keep telling myself that we are going to be friends. Friends are safe. Friends are good.

And all my instincts keep wanting more.

Yes, Cal is my teacher from a world ago, but lately we’ve been teaching each other. We talk daily, reading one another and keeping each other in check. For now, this is healthy.

For later?

I don’t know. Time will tell. Time always tells. For now, I have brain squrrels and he has a bunny. And this is how it should be.

So, what have you got left to teach me, teacher mine?

Yours, playful,

-Rene

Scavenger Hunt

 

My mind wandered while walking through Good Vibrations in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco today. This is what it came up with. Not a journal entry… but a story.

Daddy and I play fun, fun games when he lets me come over.

¬†Sometimes, I get to play with Daddy’s lollipop and make it big and hard while he’s talking to bigs on the phone. Sometimes we get to play hide the lolly, and I have to guess where Daddy’s gonna put it next. We’ve tickled, wrestled, and played doctor… our little secret, Daddy says.

Sometimes, Daddy tries new games. Like the scavenger hunt. 

Daddy and I had play time at night. I was ready, making sure I had my stuffy and binky all ready for play time when my phone went BUZZ BUZZ

Daddy: Put down your little stuffy for a minute and go check outside, poppet. 

I giggled and raced to the door, dropping my stuffy along the way. Sometimes, Daddy was magic. He knew the things. 

A small brown box sat outside of my door. I took a photo and sent it along before bringing the box inside. 

Good girl. Now look inside and let Daddy know what you find. 

I squeed loudly and opened the box. What could it be? Candy? A new stuffy? Chocolate, which is soooo much better than just candy?

Inside were three little pink bags with numbers on them.  1, 2, 3. My phone lit up. 

Open number 1, princess. 

Inside was a pair of tiny, tiny panties that didn’t cover anything. I giggled. They were pretty, and soft, and see through.¬†

Put them on for me, princess. Daddy likes pretty little panties over your pretty, pink princess parts. Open number 2 for me. 

Inside the little pink bag was a tiny buzz buzz, one so tiny it could slip inside me and stay. I stared at it, already getting squirmy just looking at it. 

That goes inside your princess parts, poppet. Can you slip it inside for me? I bet you’re nice and wet for Daddy already.¬†

I sat down and pulled the tiny bit of pink aside, taking the buzz buzz into my other hand and slowly, slowly slipped it inside me. I was all wet already, think about Daddy’s fingers and lollipop instead of a silly buzz buzz.¬†

Now number three. 

Number three was a card with an address on it. After the first two I pouted, surprised and disappointed. 

We’re playing a new game, sweetie. I want you to go to where the card says. Take a photo and send it to me when you get there. Can you do that for me? Be my good girl?¬†

Yes, Daddy. 


The address had big person toys inside, like buzz buzzes and dress up clothes for bigs. Daddy had taken me here before, one time when we were playing dress up and he said I could be a big girl for the night.

Good girl. 

Just as I walked through the door the buzz buzz between my legs turned on. I squeaked, confused, and pressed my legs together as the cute pink panties got all wet. 

Don’t get too distracted, poppet. I need you to find something for Daddy. Go all the way in the back and find me something big, and silver, and pink.

The buzz buzz was still on. ¬†I moved to the back of the store soooooo slowly, trying not to look at all the bigs. They didn’t know about the buzz buzz. It was our little secret.¬†

The back of the store had more fancy dress up things, things that went in instead of on. I liked things that went in. I ran over the the row of shiny silver buttplugs that sat in rows, the stainless steel shining in the light from the store windows. This had to be the silver, but what..  

Bunny! BUNNY BUNNY BUNNY!

There right in front was a fluffy pink bunny tail. I squealed in delight and picked it up, forgetting for just a minute about the buzz buzz while I sent a photo to Daddy. 

Good girl. 

I didn’t forget long. Suddenly the buzz buzz was BUZZING so much I let out a moan in the store.

Cum for Daddy. 

I did, there in the corner of the store, wet trickling down my leg as I tried to keep standing and not have too many people look at me. I loved when Daddy told me what to do. 

Good girl. Now on to the next place. 

I whined as the buzzing lessened. I wanted to see Daddy NOW! Especially with the buzz, buzz, buzz making me all squirmy. 

The next stop was a clothes store with all the things littles like me like. Little skirts, bows, pretty socks and shoes. My phone went buzz buzz while the buzz buzz inside woke back up again. 

Go find a pretty outfit for Daddy, princess. Try it on and send Daddy a photo. 

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZZ

I ran into the store, picking out a tiny black skirt, pretty pink top and pretty white knee socks. Giggling inside the changing room, I sent more photos to Daddy. 

You are such a good girl for me, kitten. Now I need you to do something very special for Daddy. Can you do that for me? 

Of course, Daddy. 

Daddy doesn’t want anything underneath your pretty new outfit. I want you to take your pretty new panties off. Let Daddy see.

I gulped inside the dressing room. How was the buzz buzz going to stay in?

The pretty pink panties were all wet when I took them off. I spread my legs for Daddy, showing him they were all gone while the buzz buzz kept buzzing. 

Cum for Daddy. 

I didn’t change back into my clothes. Daddy said that was okay, since the skirt was all wet now. ¬†

Last stop, poppet. Daddy’s inside waiting for you with nommy food. Just make sure that your little buzz buzz doesn’t fall out, okay? Otherwise you don’t get the rest of your surprised.¬†

I moaned out loud, trying to walk quickly yet carefully to the nommy food. The whole time the buzz, buzz, buzz kept buzzing. 

I sent Daddy a photo of the nommy restaurant as I walked inside, looking around for him. 

Buzz buzz went my phone. 

Not so fast, kitten. You’re all wet. Go to the bathroom and clean up.¬†

Groaning, I scurried to the bathroom as fast as the slippery buzz buzz would let met. Buzz buzz went my phone as I tried to clean up some of the wet running down my bare legs. 

You’re forgetting something, poppet. Your outfit isn’t done. What’s missing?¬†

The bunny tail.  I gulped. 

Be a good little bunny and put your tail in for Daddy. It will keep your buzz buzz nice and in place. I’m sure your princess parts are so slippery and wet by now. The buzz buzz needs help staying in place. Just remember, it can’t fall out princess¬†

The silver plug at the end was soooo big. There in the bathroom stall, skirt hiked up and legs spread, I slowly began to ease the plug, but by bit, into my naughty back door. I moaned quietly, aware of the women in stalls on either side of me, working the plug in and out, in and out, until it worked itself in with a POP. 

Daddy was MUCH bigger. Still. With the buzz buzz and the tail my little princess parts felt so tight. The wet got even worse as the buzzing started again.. 

Time for dinner, poppet.  

I got three steps out of the bathroom when I felt a hand on the back of my neck. I squeaked, wanting to turn around and hug him but he squeezed, silencing me. 

“This way, little love.” He started steering, using his hand on my neck to guide me to a table. Just as I reached the chair I felt the whiskers from his beard by my ear.¬†

“Come for Daddy, my dirty little bunny girl.”

I let out a chirp, my legs slamming together as I sunk into the chair that Daddy pulled out. He laughed and kissed the top of my head. 

“Good girl.” He pulled out his phone as he sat down. The buzz buzz buzz between my legs got worse. Between that and the tail I couldn’t sit still. I squirmed around on my seat, imagining the wet spot I was leaving.¬†

Daddy ate SO SLOWLY. Any time I would let out whimper or wine he would hit his phone and the buzzing would get worse. “Patience, poppet.”¬†

Finally, finally we ate all the noms. Daddy took my hand and walked me to the car, taking his time while I wiggled, the tail and buzz buzz still inside. 

“Did you like our little game today, kitten?”¬†

“Yes, Daddy.” I tried to find a comfy spot on the seat.¬†

“Good girl. You know what you get?” He reached into the glove compartment and handed me a small container of chocolate sauce.

“You did so well on our scavenger hunt, princess, that I thought we could try two new games today. When we get home I thought we would see if chocolate tasted different on lollipops.”

I squirmed, all wet and drippy from my pretty tail and the buzz buzz and now there was chocolate. 

“Does that mean I get to play find the lolly, Daddy? I’m good at finding things!”

“Yes you are, princess.” Daddy smiled.¬†

I do so love when Daddy and I play games. 

Aaaand the end. I do hope I managed to entertain all of you ūüėČ

Yours, creative

-Rene

A Duty, an Echo, a Bow-Out

She wanted to own him, for him to want to own her, but he tread lightly around her. He didn’t want to mark her. She wanted to be branded; a red, raw wound.”

-The Piano Teacher

‘In an Open Relationship since May, 20, 2015’

“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK.”

It was the cherry on top of an overly-saturated emotional cake today, full of feels I am still processing. I agreed today to walk into a situation that will end up likely breaking a large part of me and force me out of my community for a while. It will be the catalyst to something that I have been chewing on for a while. Facebook just took the time to remind me that even when I think the ghosts are gone.. sometimes I miss a spot.

The status wasn’t linked to James. That has long since been gone..but it was there. Our anniversary staring at me. Mocking me, as the loose end that said ‘you haven’t walked away yet’ while his details say single. I can’t do that. I’m not single. I have partners, though no primary. I can’t draw that clean line like he can..but has it ever been clean?

We’re getting James a car. The wheels are in motion, no pun intended. It’s what I sat down to figure out today. Will it be possible. Can it be done? Yes.

This passed weekend I watched him break. Again. I saw him on Friday at a play party and barely recognized the stubborn man I know and love. I saw… a broken, exhausted shell of a man that is so far beyond the reach of those who love him. I was afraid. Unsurprised, and afraid. I asked if he wanted a ride home, and of course he said no. He can get himself home. I wasn’t surprised when he posted a status the next day saying that he was going into full hibernation mode and would be back in a few days. He needed it. I knew that, watching as an outsider looking in that knew way too much about him. I don’t have a right to know anymore, but I do. I know his body ticks. I know the look he gets when he’s hit a wall.

I can’t watch it anymore.

There’s a selfish element. I realize that I can get certain gears rolling for him, connect certain people together, that others can’t. It’s why I’ve been pulled in. I also realize that in doing this, my usefulness to him will be removed. I’m his ride. Removing that factor severs our necessity in one another. It removes a huge way in which I passively serve him and reduces our interactions purely to choice.

I’m not sure what either of us can choose. Will choose. But I would rather give up the choice to be around him than watch him kill himself. I… can’t. I love the asshole. To actually be permitted to pull my resources and do some good with them for him… It’s one last hurrah. The last act of real service I can give him before I am completely rung dry. Before I am used up emotionally and break myself.

After the meeting today I came home and let myself trip back down memory lane, digging into the Dark Odyssey photo albums. I let myself look at the old shots he’s taken of me, vs the ones he takes now. I let myself register the disconnect and distance. I found the Facebook slip and while it stung on top of everything else I feel relieved to have remedied the error. I know I’m going to put way too much into this, both time and energy… and then I will finally rest. I will walk away, explain why, and see what happens next. If he comes after me I will honestly be shocked. If he notices what I’ve done I’ll be doubly shocked. I don’t expect anything in return for all this. And I know I’m being way too vague in this entry, but I can’t talk about details.

I have to do this. One last time.

And then… I will probably disappear for a while.

I don’t have a choice. I won’t disappear from here. I’ll still have my partners… but James and I are so tightly entangled. I fear after he gets his wheels..even before, now.. that entanglement will become a strangle hold. If it hasn’t already. I will suffocate under the weight of our connection, unable to move forward and forbidden to go back. Whether I go or stay, it will break me..it’s just the damage that must be calculated. The recovery time. The risk and reward.

I will step back from BaGG. From the Citadel parties I love.. I know the ones he works. The ones he doesn’t. I won’t cut myself off completely from the community but…

If I am useless and unwanted, I need to hear that. If I am wanted and needed, I need to hear that. And I don’t know if I ever will.

So now I lay sleepless on my couch with a snoring dog and a cat desperately trying to flatten my chest, attempting to see which end is up.

Yours, drowning

-Rene

Down the Rabbit Hole…

There is a lot about my various kinks that I have embraced over time. The further down the rabbit hole I go, the more I discover about myself. Some of it stopped me short when I realized it was a part of myself… That there is an aspect of myself that is very much a slave to the proper Master, that I just¬†can’t¬†do pick-up-play. That there is a part of me that is a pain slut when I’m in the proper mindset.

That I very much have a little side, and that that little is sexual…

My first discovery of my little side was with Smith…and when that blew up and bit me in the ass my little went into hiding, DEEP hiding. That aspect of myself was a core part of our dynamic. He was the first one to expose me to phrases like ‘princess parts’, who made me stop squirming at the idea of calling someone ‘daddy’. He helped show me that taboo can be attractive, erotic… that the fetish could be done in a healthy way and can be incredibly fulfilling. And then our whole dynamic exploded and I was cut out like cancer, my little discarded because his partner was severely triggered by he and I… Not even James could coax her out again.

For two years, my little hid. Unfulfilled. Slipping out in spirts of a bubbly voice and an obvious love of stuffies; a side of myself that filled me with severe amounts of shame because when she finally came out she was told she was horrible and wrong.

And then I got to know Ryan.

Ryan is a BaGG regular who I’ve known for over a year now, in some capacity. For a very long time he was the rather attractive fellow that James gave rides to from time to time. Then he became the rather attractive fellow that was always at BaGG. Then he was the attractive fellow with the REALLY pretty partner. Like. Really pretty.

And then I found out the attractive fellow thought I was also attractive. Meep. MEEEEEEEEP.

As my squirly brain often does, it had labeled Ryan as ‘crush’ and therefore ‘untouchable. I found out that was very much not the case sometime in the late summer months. He was established with his partner, and I was slowly creeping back into dating after my release..and I was restless. I liked his voice, calm and soothing with a ‘sadist with a smile’ quality. I enjoyed his calm, easy going nature that was a balm on frazzled nerves. I especially liked how well we had begun communicating.

The first time we played he tied me up, giving me a pretty chest harness with bottlecaps underneath the rope for the edge of pain I craved…and then he fucked me into oblivion. Holy crap, that man scratches that particular itch for me in a way that will have me sated for a good few days afterward (a rarity with a libido as active as mine). It was good, comfortable. We played well with one another…though the dynamic wasn’t mind-blowing, it was fun. And I found myself much, MUCH more attracted to him than I thought possible… He has strong arms with just the right amount of muscle, a fit body, and his legs… Yum yum yum yum yum….

Another date followed, this time at his place, and then the weeks went by. We talked, both at BaGG when we saw one another and online when we didn’t. I don’t quite remember how it started, but somehow the topic of me being a little slipped out.

He was interested. He liked the idea of it. More than liked it.

Part of me was hesitant. Yes, it had been two years…and yes, this was a stable play partner that I trusted… but did I trust myself not to fuck up again? What if my little was just bad, and not in the good way? What if it was the rotten part of myself that I just couldn’t show?

…If I didn’t try, I would never know.

 

And so, I dressed up. I wore a frilly pink shirt, my ‘little’ underwear, my hair in pigtails. I brought stuffies and let myself slowly, slowly relax into the dynamic as I drove to Ryan’s house.

I love when risks pay off. He spanked me, of course.. He pulled my hair, played with my ‘princess parts’ and made them feel ‘funny’ and ‘got me all wet’. He had me cumming so many times I lost track, and seemed to all but purr every time I called him ‘daddy’. That magic switched that existed when he called me ‘kitten’ or ‘sweetie’ worked both ways..and the dynamic went from good to pretty fucking fantastic. We found a very natural niche for both of us to play in, a need that others weren’t sating at the moment, and so we played through taboo whispers of mommy not finding out what we were doing, and the little girl begging for daddy’s hard cock in her bum and princess parts… I let myself go, let myself enjoy.

The dynamic has developed over time, and now our play dates are some of my favorite things. They are catharsis, release, whether he simply fucks me into oblivion or beats me with a hairbrush before. It’s fun, and easy. There is something about Ryan that from the beginning has felt incredibly… safe. Our relationship isn’t romantic, but I do very much love and care for the man, and his partner. I know he’s protective of me, that he has my back. I know that I can run to him and his lovely at BaGG if I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. I also feel so free to talk to him about my headspace, how I’m feeling and what I need from play on a certain night. I don’t feel on edge, or ashamed, or in need of censuring myself with him. Our negotiation skills are kinda top knotch, and there’s an ease to he and I that I respect and enjoy.

Some of my favorite parts of our playdates are our ‘games’. I have a wee bit of an oral fixation, as I’m sure has become quite apparent in my entries.. I love sucking cock. We developed a ‘game’ a couple of dates ago. While daddy is on the phone ordering take out, kitten kneels in front of him and sucks his cock. This usually continues until long after the phone call is over, much to my great pleasure. Ryan is not small..and I take great pride in being able to take all of him down my throat, even if it’s not for long yet.

Last date he led me into the bedroom by his cock, starting with me sitting on the couch. He let me suck him for a few moments, and then took a step back, forcing me to my knees chasing after him. Step by step, he backed toward his bedroom. Inch by inch on my knees I followed, eagerly bobbing my head after his cock in an attempt to keep a steady rhythm as we moved. He’s one of those that I always love the taste of..male and musk and..mmmmm.

He pushed me down onto his bed and thoroughly beat my ass, literally punching into me. I remain very much an impact slut and absolutely love rough body play. I can take a lot of thuddy punching, especially with two or three fingers shoved up my pussy as a fist slams into my ass. I get off on the impact, asking for more, begging for it…and I did beg. Asking daddy for more and begging to be allowed to cum. Sometimes he makes me wait… He gets me there so easily. Other times he forces the orgasm out of me, having figured out on our first date that I can cum on command. By the fourth or fifth orgasm I am spent, screaming and begging daddy, daddy, daddy over and over as fingers fuck me, and then his cock. He’s not one to relent, to let me off easily, and I enjoy the play even more for that. He stretches me, pushing me through orgasm after orgasm, his cock going so deep it hits my back wall more often than not and sends me spiraling even more often. If I’m a good girl, if I ask nicely, he’ll toy my ass. If I’m really good daddy will have me spread my bum and slide his cock, inch by inch, inside, pausing just for a moment before picking up a punishing rhythm that gets me off so quickly I can barely see straight. All the while I cling to the blankets, begging for more, trying not to scream..

Afterwards, there is tobacco (he smokes. I don’t, though I will at times steal a drag after sex). He more often than not will offer his house coat and slippers to me over real clothes, a touching gesture and ritual I’ve begun to enjoy. I like the fuzzy texture on my skin when it’s still buzzing with aftershock goodness. I love it combined with cuddles, the smell of tobacco and man and sex, and the ease in which Ryan and I communicate both in and out of scene.

It’s taken more than words to make my little side feel safe, cared for, and like she isn’t…bad. Innately evil. It’s taken touches and teases. Cuddles, cartoons, and dozens of sweeties, kittens, and lots and lots of patience. Ryan has seen me cry, both in and out of little space, and has offered a safe space for me. He is honestly an incredible top and an even better friend… and I’m not sure my little would have ever been coaxed back out of hiding without him, and the encouragement and support of his epic partner. The combo platter of the two of them in my life as my people, my safe place, my friends… I am lucky. Very, very lucky.

The further I jump down the rabbit hole, the more I learn about myself. I continue to marvel at how kinks and preferences can change, and how relationships can be so meaningful and yet so different as well. A few years ago I never though I would be talking about poly pods and seeing someone I’m involved with not just as himself, but part of a unit. It would have plagued me with so much jealousy and made me feel like a third wheel. Instead, compersion is very much a thing, and my happy little side squees at time with both of them.

And so, further down the rabbit hole I go.

Yours, ever growing and ever changing,

-Rene

NRE

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New Relationship Energy.

Everything monumental in my life has always started with an “oh shit” moment. It’s just how it’s always been with me.

The big relationships in my life have been a dance of avoidance vs submitting to my own desires. It happened with James, who I felt immediate chemistry with and then hid from for a year afterwards because the amount of chemistry terrified me. It happened with Chris, who I watched scene from afar for over a year before I friend pulled me in to play with him. And now, it’s happened with Grey.

I’ve known Grey for over a year at this point. He was a BaGG regular who disappeared for a time..but when he was there, he and his lovely fiance were two of the people who helped make me comfortable with being at BaGG. They pulled me into a group, a clique before I had a clique, and made me feel safe and desired when there was a sea of people around me that I didn’t know yet. The play with Grey was always…toe curling, but it was never much. I was collared, and I honestly didn’t ever know he was interested in me. He played..plays..it’s confusing with a mutual friend of ours who is GORGEOUS, and his lovely fiance has curves in all the right places. And then there’s me. I never saw it. I played with his partner more than him, and then they disappeared for a bit.

And then they came back. They finally came back, and I was thrilled. And surprised.

That first night that they returned to BaGG I found out just how interested Grey was in me. He’s a vocal one, something I am not entirely used to, and is not afraid to express how he feels. Another thing I am very not used to. ¬†I was upset about something.. I can’t even remember what anymore. He was walking me back inside when I heard him whisper in my ear, “You know I’ve got you, right, little one? You’re mine.”

My knees buckled. In a good way. As I said..he’s safe. He’s not trying to claim the primary spot. But he will claim at least part of me..

The night was laced with play with him; intense play that resulted in some lovely bruises on my chest. There were whispers of all the things he would love to do to me if we weren’t in a club. How he would love to hear me scream around his cock while his beautiful fiance did wonderfully evil things to me from behind… Followed by how he loved me, how gorgeous and beautiful I was. How he adored me.

It was a balm over so many sore areas in my life. And I felt myself melting.

The truth was, I had had a crush on Grey for some time… But the logic of ‘he is my crush and is therefore untouchable’ remains in my warp, twisted mind. Suddenly, my crush was showing he wanted me..in a very big way. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such an overwhelming rush of feels before. It terrified and thrilled me.. Terrified, because love scares the ever-living shit out of me. Thrilled because at least part of me understood the feels were safe with him. That they had always been safe with him.

We started texting back and forth..and realized just what derps we had been, each having feelings for the other but imagining the other didn’t feel the same. We played at yet another BaGG. Finally, we went on a date.

Oh my goodness… It has been so, SO long since I’ve had a first date like the one Grey and I had. I felt that zing, that ‘oh fuck’ zing of this is going to be something. And I cursed internally as we drove to our lunch destination, trying to process all that I was feeling. The last time I had zinged so intensely on a first date had been James..I didn’t know if I was ready for another James, or Chris. Casual play, yes..but this would not be casual, this would be intense.

We’ve spent more time together since… I have neither asked, nor expected intense or emotional. Neither of us did. I don’t think he was looking for a new partner any more than I was..and yet here we are. There is a bitter-sweetness to it. Chris and I have continued to have bumps, where Grey and I have a natural ease when we’re around one another. “I like us”, he has told me, over and over. And I have to agree. I like us too.

The NRE is so strong with this one.. I forgot all that comes with a good relationship. The missing. The craving the presence of the person hours after they’ve left. The fantasies that spring to mind late a night, when I’m alone in bed and left to my own wandering hands and thoughts.. And the play! GODDE, fresh play again! Bliss is the simplest way I can describe the feeling of his hand wrapped around my throat. He has big hands; hands that know how to work and that are not without their scars.

I most certainly have a type.

I have missed new adventures. It feels as if Grey was this piece that I’ve been missing. He’s slid into my life so seamlessly that it feels as if he was always supposed to be here. Of course, this is my partner. And his partner? What a joy she is, and how amazing she has been in sharing the man she is going to marry.

After so much struggling, being in a relationship with good, safe poly where I don’t feel threatened and I know someone isn’t trying to fill James’s spot… It’s a good feeling. I let myself revel in it, and I look forward to more adventures with Grey.

Yours, enjoying the new and the shiny

~Rene

 

Birthday Spankings

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Yes, that would be my ass.. The last remnants of the marks are still there from last week’s birthday spankings.

Not mine, mind you, but my Master’s. James’s birthday was on Thursday..which meant that Wednesday evening was his birthday BaGG.

Wednesday was… a much needed day. It started with a hot tub photo shoot with a friend of our’s, a beautiful model who knows how to work her body. I assisted, James shot, and then there were some shenanigans and a wonderful hot tub blow job that our friend was kind enough to take pictures of. After it was to BaGG, where my ass was already tingling in anticipation.

There was a bit of debate over who would take Master’s spankings. Spanking him.. is a difficult thing, and he’s more a Dominant than anything (although there are rare occasions when he will switch). Typically he asks for volunteers, who would take them.. but I had been missing him lately, missing our connection, and I selfishly played the girlfriend card. I wanted them. Badly. Knowing just how badly they were going to hurt.

And so I was excited when one of the BaGG members came to find me on the dance floor, telling me around midnight that my Master needed me. I all but skipped to the back dungeon, waiting with anticipation while the girl before us took her birthday spankings.

I have a love/hate relationship with spanking horses. I’m a wee bit too short for them.. I have to climb up onto them, not just bend over, and have to wrap my legs around them to stay up properly. Because of this, the harder slaps will actually cause the bench to dig into my inner thighs and bruise me, no matter how good the padding is. There would be four people spanking me that night. Two were my roommates, both people I adore and both people who have spanked me in some semblance before. I screamed and squirmed a little, though not too much. They were a lovely warm-up, getting ten spankings each. The woman after them was a friend from BaGG. She’s a tiny, beautiful thing with the most stunning outfits and a surprisingly sadistic side. With every couple of smacks she would pull me by my hips further back on the horse, having it dig further into me. By the time she finished, ending on a lovely note with a wooden paddle, I could feel the warmth coming from my ass. Tom, a BaGG member and friend, was holding my hands in front of the horse and checking in to make sure I was okay.

BaGG math is a funny thing; it’s never quite linear. Master James turned 32 this year.. so I should receive 33 spankings (one to grown on is important). The first three spankers gave me ten spankings each. This should leave Master with three, logically.

Nope. Somehow three turned into thirteen, which doesn’t sound like much, but my Master’s hands are his feet. When he spanks someone, most people tap out at three, five at the most. His hands are like concrete, and there is very rarely any sort of warm up. Often when he’s working the photo booth at the Citadel he will bend me over one of the benches in the back and use my screams to attract people to the room. I love it..

One, two, three spankings in I scream. My body shakes a little. Tom checks in. The crowd watching cheers. By spanking six I’m openly sobbing. With each one I’m slammed into the horse more, aggravating bruises that are already forming on my inner thighs. By ten the crowd seems quieter, further away. Tom is checking in with me more and more, asking if I want to tap out. I don’t. This is my normal. These spankings that feel like concrete. I hate and love everyone. It’s just a rarity for people to see us play for any length of time. Normally I get a few whacks in between at an event he’s working. This was enough to make up a decent scene.

By the time Master is done the room is almost quiet. I remember stumbling off the horse to Tom’s horror and immediately turning around and sinking to my knees, straight into Master’s arms. He held me like I was the most precious thing in the world, kissing the top of my head. There, wrapped in the cocoon of Master’s arms, I heard someone behind us say, “James and Rene, everybody!”. The quiet room erupted as Master helped me to my feet and led me to the side, where I could sit and curl back up in his arms again. After snuggles, and kisses, and a decent amount of aftercare he ordered me up and had me bend over to take this picture.

I love my marks…and the Master that gives them to me.

Yours, happily bruised

-Rene