Tag Archives: play

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 😉

Yours, creative

-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

Same Dance, Different Steps

 

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The rhythm of routine is a comforting one in a world that no longer makes sense to me.

I see hate in so many places and cruelty where there once was kindess. I admit that I hade in the welcoming arms of my community. I mark, I protest, I growl with the rest of them, and then I run back to my land of misfits to dance another day.

My routines are simple, and exhausting. And I suppose, simply exhausting. I go to BaGG every week, managing to show up hours early to sit across from the stubborn asshole I love while he works and I work.. and then we dance.

We have yet to physically play, James and I. Not since he took my collar, slave ring, and pendant. I often wonder about the box they’re placed in. Is it plain, decorated. Does he take it out, along with photos and momentos, love letters and notes, and godde knows how many gifts, or does it stay locked away in some corner of his closet, another mistake he doesn’t want to look at? I don’t know. It’s eight months today, and I still don’t know.

What we do end up doing is dueling. Trading cards. An old game called Yu-Gi-Oh that he’s been into for eons, and that I enjoyed as a kid. I never played before him. I ‘built’ decks in the loosest of terms, with the childlike mindset of “Oh, this is pretty! Let’s put this with this!” and never had anyone to actually play with. Eons ago, a world ago, he tasked me with learning the game again. I did…and then the world exploded. And exploded. And exploded, and playing cards was the furthest thing from my mind.

After I was released, there was a time when playing cards was…all we ended up having. He shoved the fact that I hadn’t build a deck in my face during our breakup, and my rebuttle was to show up at the Citadel two days later with my skeleton of a deck, ready to duel. Since then, it’s been the only thing guaranteed safe to talk about. When he’s in a foul mood during a ride I bring up Yu-Gi-Oh. When he’s overly stressed and obviously needs a break from work, like he did today. When the dungeon is slow on a work night and I can seek him getting stressed. We duel.

It’s become such a lovely ritual as time has gone on. The banter has increased, to the point where there is quite a bit of sexual tension with our duels. There’s more joking, more teasing, more… comfort, and slowly, bit by bit, we have begun to feel like our old selves. He’s more approachable and less intimidating, and things like sitting in silence together have stopped feeling so uncomfortable. They are, in many ways, oddly comfortable. I know why he’s quiet some nights; I can still read his body like a book and can tell when he’s stressed, or sore, or in a mood.

That being said… the duels are all I get. I can’t touch him. I can’t snuggle him, or kneel at his feet, or go in for the big, long hugs that other can. I still am only permitted a hug goodbye most days, and I am touch starved. We spend so much damn time together that in certain ways it can be cruel smelling him, hearing him, being surrounded by him and yet being unable to reach him. There are times when he looks so damn fucking good… and I curse that he still pushes all of my fucking buttons. All of them. He always has, and I have no clue anymore what I push of him, if anything good.

Today, we dueled as always. He brought out his Blue Eyes deck, I my Lightsworn, and he destroyed me like he always does. He topped me through cards, because he could. Any progress I make he lets me do. I’m well aware of this. It’s always been that way with James. Any progress I’ve made, it’s because he’s let me. The banter, the dance, lasted until a friend mentioned that she played.

This friend is not a threat in any way. She doesn’t make me jealous, at all. She is safe, a beautiful soul who still calls James my person and is well aware at just how complicated she is. And the truth is, I love watching James duel. It’s fun sometimes when it’s not me. It wasn’t that they dueled… it’s that they interrupted the ritual that triggered some brain squirrels in my mind.

He doesn’t top me right now, in any way but the cards. That’s all I get. I don’t get swatts at BaGG. He won’t pull my hair, or bring me to my knees. I’ve forgotten, for the most part, what his lips feel like. I don’t get casual kisses or bites. He still won’t even just… poke me in the arm in a friendly way. Touch was so much a part of our love language that it was one of the main things taken away when we ended, and so I cling to the cards. I cling to the ritual of every Wednesday I get my dance with him. He will give me time, top me, and then go off to the others.

Today, that wasn’t the case. He played a few rounds with me, and then moved on to someone else. It was bound to happen. The nature of games is that you play other people. It’s a silly game; it’s fun. But… it’s our fun. It’s our thing, and for an hour I sat and watched while they played. I watched the bit of time I normally get with him tick away, and as it did I felt more and more invisible to him.

Emotions rarely have logic, and unfortunately for me my emotions are almost always written on my face. If anything, I’m sitting and writing this all out to get the kicked puppy expression I know I’m wearing to disappear. I am posessive of the few points of connection that I consider mine with him, logical or not, and I don’t think I realized how posessive until tonight. I felt.. inferior. Our friend is a better duelist than I am, with more experience. She was more of a challenge for him, and he and others commented that despite having months of practice now, she played better than I have. She lasted better.

There was a moment, hearing all of this, that I realized how easily replacable I could be. I wonder what value I still hold to him, this man that never seems to want to know his own heart. Over a silly game of cards that have been our safe-zone.

Maybe it’s the time of year; that Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, and I remain without a primary. Maybe it’s looking around and seeing other people valued by partners, and finding myself at war with my self-imposed loneliness. Maybe it’s that fear that… I’m just another background piece for him now.

None of this is logical. Time is gold to James, and more than anyone else I get his time.

Except, for when I don’t.

When the dance gets interrupted, the partners changed out, and you find yourself doubting if it was a dance at all.

It’s time for BaGG. Perhaps I will be brave and approach him for a different type of dance.

Yours, in routine

-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

 

Day 29

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29) Is pain or humiliation (spankings for example) a part of your submission? What is your relationship to it? Do you embrace it as a part of your submission, tolerate it as necessary or have some other type of relationship with it?

I feel like I’ve answered this already…

Yes, pain is part of my submission. My relationship to pain is…confusing for me. Because it’s new, it’s shiny, and it’s something that I never thought I would love.

It’s become, as weird as it sounds, its own type of love language. I love when James spanks me..because it’s not just the spanking. It’s that caress before. It’s when he knows just the right moments to check on me, where I need to see his face and have a hand in my hair before the beating continues. It’s that thrill of showing him just what a good girl I am and how much I can take.

I like pain.

I love when he doodles on my chest, carving beautiful designs in it with his nails. I love when he yanks my hair. I become a rag doll, pliant and compliant and a giant ball of need… I love love love love LOVE being marked up after all of this…

But I love all this with James.

My pain threshold is dependent on my Sir being close by and accessible. He’s in the same building, he’s administrating the beating, he’s helping, or he’s taking pictures.. Then I want to fly. I want to excel and pose and show off and show him just how much I can take. When he’s not nearby, or I can’t reach him… The safety blanket just buckles and I can’t perform.

I like pain, when it’s balanced by James’s protective energy. He hurts me, yes, but if anyone harms me he will protect me. I know that with absolutely certainty.. The community knows you don’t harm what is his. And I’m his.

Yours 29 posts later (ONE TO GO!!!)

-Rene

Day 27

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27) Do you have submissive desires or fantasies that you have yet to be able to explore? Do some of your desires confuse or frighten you? Do they excite you?

I don’t know a single person out there than can safely say “I have explored and satisfied every sexual fantasy I have.”

I know I’m not one of them.

I am, as I’ve said before, blessed. I live in an incredible area with open minded people who encourage the type of sexual fantasies I have.

My desires…are strange. They shift from partner to partner. My main kink is service and submission.. From there it morphs, depending on how I would please that partner the most. James is a sadist. Therefore I become his masochist. I enjoy being his masochist, I want to clarify that… I love (and hate..and love..and hate..) what he does to me and serve willingly and happily…but I can’t go into that masochistic head space unless he’s around. It doesn’t have to be him doing the scene. But I either have to be focused on him (like at Fusion where my ass got spanked black and bloody blue so that I could have pictures taken of it to show him) or he needs to be taking photos of it or watching… Otherwise I’m a whimpy light weight.

From this it’s not that my desires or fantasies frighten me.. It’s that they surprise me. If you had asked me a year ago I would have been horrified at the idea of someone digging his nails into the skin of my chest and basically drawing with my raw flesh.. Now I love it. And hate it.. And love it. I love the results, I should say. The beautiful spiral designs that are currently on my chest. I curse him out as much as I can get away with when he’s doing it… Which isn’t much, but it does feel good…

I do have some sexual fantasies still unfulfilled… but that’s what Dark Odyssey events and dungeons are for.. There’s a list in my head… Threesomes, both mfm and fmf. Orgy…because why not? Sometimes I get in a slightly toppy head space and I think about fucking a girl I know with a strap on… I don’t know where that toppy place is coming from lately. If anything, that scares me the most.

Submissive fantasies… I want to be owned and collared again. I think about his hand wrapped around my neck too often.. He does it once in a blue moon, but I’m hungry for more of that…breath play. I love breath play…. And yes, I think about fucking him.

And no, we still haven’t.

I fantasize about little things too.. things I sometimes took for granted. Curling up in each other’s arms. Going out on dates. Sleeping next to one another in bed.

The biggest fantasy?

One uninterrupted day with he and I. No stress. No money worries. Just one day when I can get lost in the company of my Sir.

A girl can dream, right?

Yours…exhausted

-Rene

ps. I do apologize for how lax I’ve been with these 30 Days entries… I’m sure that you’ve seen that there has been a LOT going on in my hectic thing called life… But I finish what I start, and now that life is slowly returning to normal on planet subby, I plan on finishing the last three entries in a timely manner. Thank you all for your patience, and as always for glancing at my humble blog. I am, as always, grateful.

Day 25

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Are there items, objects or rituals that represent or help you express submission? If not, have you ever thought of adding or being gifted one? Is there a special significance to these objects or rituals?

The collar has always been a very important object to me.

I have been owned and collared once, and the feeling when I had that day collar around my neck 24/7 was… exquisite… Yes, I want that again someday. I loved the security of being able to reach down when I was away or a few days went by where I couldn’t see my Dom and have that confirmation of “Okay.. it’s here. I’m still his. I am his… yes…” I loved being able to CALL someone my Dominant. I love my Sir, but there is so much power behind that word… I also got so used to it that in the beginning with James and I, I had to bite back using the familiar term. He is my Sir right now. He dominates me, but he is not my Dominant.

What’s the difference? For him, it’s that he hasn’t completely collared me yet.

I do wear a play collar when we go to kink events. Most of the events that we go to are ones that he is at least partially working. I love watching him work, and love being at these events with him, but there have been times where he’s been in another room or in the back and a creeper has come up to me that just… doesn’t want to go away. The explanation of “I have a partner and he’s in the back doing his thing and I usually stay out here and watch and play and then he comes and takes pictures and everyone is happy.” sometimes takes too long.. I’ve out right run to find him a handful of times when I was very uncomfortable at the club and just needed my Sir.. No one is stupid enough to try anything when he’s near me. Chair or no chair, the man can be intimidating.

The collar does help though… And putting it on has become one of my favorite rituals. We started putting it on me for my comfort level in the clubs and parties he has to work.. but the intensity of our relationship changed when the collar became involved. I am owned by James, even though I’m not owned and collared 24/7, and having a physical reminder of that, something that he puts on me and takes off… Yes, it made things more intense between us.. In a good way.

On a typical Wednesday he and I get a little time to ourselves before BaGG. Sometimes we get food, sometimes it’s just snuggles in his car then snuggles in Wicked Grounds. Sometimes it’s snuggles and spanks and squeaks in Wicked Grounds.. (I love Wednesdays). Then his alarm goes off for when he has to go to the club and set up. While he gets ready to go I get the collar out of my bag, and usually hold it up rather shy and mew…

He motions for me to come closer, and I do.. on my knees. I lift my hair (usually down and pulled back, because the club gets hot but it’s fun to get hair pulled…) and he slips it around my neck and buckles it. I very quietly thank my Sir, knowing that when that collar is around my neck I won’t be able to call him “James”. Not because there’s a rule..but because that’s where my mind goes when that collar is around my neck. And after I thank him he kisses me…

I mean really kisses me.

I mean the world spins on its axis kisses me.

Taking off the collar has a similar ritual to it. I end up on my knees and I bend my head to give him access to the buckle.. and once it is off I say how sad I am, and he kisses me. And the world spins. And I am once again reminded of what a lucky little submissive I am.

We have other rituals that are less D/s related and more relationship related… One that he started early on that continues to make me smile even when I am feeling my worst is that we always end each night by wishing each other “sweet dreams”. Another that I began in order to make him smile is that each morning he gets a selfie… usually naughty, as the goal is to make the man smile, and I do aim to please.

James and I are still really new… It’s only been a few months, and rituals develop over time. But the rituals I have now, especially the collar..they make me happy.

Yours, smiling

-Rene

Day 16

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Day 16

Have you found your submission has changed with different partners/relationships? If you’re involved with partners of both sexes, does your submission relate or change based on gender or does it depend on the person?

Isn’t it that way with relationships in general, BDSM, kink, vanilla or otherwise? Different relationships have people interacting in different ways.

I’ll start with the second part of this question and then delve back into the first. When I was younger.. around 19 or so, I was in a very unhealthy relationship. It was an abusive rebound that continued for a year… I consider him part of my young and dumb phase. I’ve always been what I consider bicurious. I’ve always thought of women as beautiful creatures and appreciated the female form. I love pixie-like faces, sharp cheek bones and sparkling eyes. I am not immune to the charms of my own gender. It’s just only once in a blue moon that I actually actively pursue a female. I am a big, big fan of the penis. I admit this.

Back then, I was a bitch in the most unhealthy way possible. I was so angry at men for the relationships that I was in that I decided I was going to delve deeply into the lady pond and pursue that side of my sexuality without my boyfriend knowing (I was in Massachusetts and he was in New Jersey at the time, so this was not that hard). … This consisted of several one-night stands, drunkin hookups, me promising to call when I knew I wouldn’t, and all around slutty behavior. In six months I had managed to sleep with more women and burn more bridges than I had in 19 years with men.

It took me a long time to see that my attraction to women was a natural, healthy thing and not just something that grew out of my unhealthy relationship from back then. For a while I assumed I was a switch, because of how I had treated the girls I played with during that time period. I was a toppy douche, calling the shots and telling them when the relationship ended and what would be done… I thought I would end up topping all women.

… Not so. NOPE. It depends on how women approach me. Cal’s former partner, for instance, loved topping females like me. When I said I wasn’t comfortable with that she took this as a challenge and would bait me on a regular basis, saying she would love to dig her heels into my ass, etc, get me to kiss her feet… It made me challenge her right back and want to look eye level with her. I didn’t necessarily want to top her.. But I wanted to meet her in the eye and be her equal.

I wrote in here about my first experience being topped by a woman.. A good friend of mine named Ren. She is very sweet, and for a while wanted me to be her house pet..but I was never physically interested in her in that way. There are a couple that I am physically interested  in these days.. I have a small circle of friends at BaGG, women and men both, that I’ve somehow become entangled with… I want to kneel in front of one while helping her spank the other.. It is a welcoming, healthy feeling.

…That is as toppy as I get, with either gender. If someone asks me to help with a spanking I will.. but otherwise I want the spanking dammit.

As for my submission changing from partner to partner.. Absolutely. I’ve already talked about what I an absolute masochist I can be with James. I love poking the bear just enough to go home black and blue at the end of the night, knowing that we’ll both enjoy it. As sassy as I can be with James there are times when I can be completely docile if that’s what he requires of me. There is no question of who the one submitting is. There is absolutely no question of who belongs to whom. How sassy or sweet or over the top or quiet I am depends largely on my partner. He leads the scene, in every sense. He is an actor. He takes the stage, commands it. He shows me where our marks are. And I happily walk behind him, follow his lead, fall in naturally with the scene he is directing. It all feel right, and gives me a greater peace than anything I can imagine. James is the star… but I’m his leading lady and I know that. No question. No doubt. I love it. I love him.

Huh.. I think that’s the first time I’ve typed that here.. I’ve told him. He knows…but it’s the first time I’ve openly said it.. I’m in love with James. I love being his.

I have another partner that I formally met when I was at Fusion over the summer. He is a fabulous man who did a beautiful needle scene on my back. We hit it off talking before and after the scene and I ended up spending my last night at camp snuggling with him in bed. He is very different than what I am used to.. Older than I’ve played with before (double my age), but doesn’t act it most of the time. I love his energy. He’s put me at ease from the beginning, making friendship with him a very easy thing and not pushing me to to define the relationship between us in any way. He knows I am poly, but my focus is on James. He is KING of poly..has more partners than I can possibly keep track of and has nicknamed me ‘dessert’ because just when he thought his dance card was full I showed up..and there was somehow room. He’s been helping me slowly navigate both my interactions with him and also James.. answering any questions I have with the patience of a saint.

Playing with him is VERY different from playing with James. I don’t have the desire to push myself so much. They’re both sadists, but with Chris I am sassier. I can get away with more because while James reads as all DOM to me, (with the added dash of ‘this is the man I belong to and serve’ thrown in) Chris is very much a switch. When we play I call him sir, and of course I do respect him… but my most docile side seems reserved for James… The man that owns me also owns the part of me that absolutely submits, without question.. Chris does not own me in any way. I like pushing my limits more with him.. seeing if I can squirm away from him when he has me pinned, seeing what wiggling my ass in his direction will get him to do.. and after we will sit, and talk, and exchange kinky stories of the play we have done since we last saw one another. And I enjoy it. I am grateful for Chris’s company for as long as I am graced with it. He’s taught me quite a bit so far.. and reminds me often when I am in a rough patch that he was at one point as well, and that this too shall pass.

I am lucky, very lucky, to have the people in my life that I do. I don’t know how I got so lucky..but I am a very blessed submissive.

yours..and his,

-Rena