Fuzzy handcuffs

Look, something pretty!

From Frog.

Service

Service.

I love service.

I am a sadist. During sex, I switch. I enjoy bottoming for that as well as for the occasional flogging or what-have-you, usually a thuddy implement. I'm primarily a top. I'm also a dominant.

I used to find dominance to be absolutely exhausting.

To stay in the frame of mind where I am the Master, I must be in control, I must be strict and cruel and creative and completely in charge, as well as kind and merciful and loving is hard for me. I prefer to be a creative sadist. I'm very hands on and when it comes to more emotional or mental scenes, I tend to get tired pretty quickly and revert to my sadistic self, since I'm a more physical person.

Which I'm sure is a bit frustrating for my boy, who is not only a wonderfully tough maso (our pet name for masochists) but also very submissive. He needs submission to be able to get himself together somedays. Just like we both need a good kicking-the-shit-out-of-him scene when we haven't played for awhile. Most kinksters will agree it's a major stress-relief.

So, while I find dominance to be exhausting, especially when I was first stepping into the role (back when I had no idea what a sadist even was) I find the idea of service to be totally liberating. I can focus on my needs and without putting much creative thought into it, this fulfills the needs of my submissive. I can ask for food, drink, massage, attention. Even me saying 'pet meeee!' is demanding a bit of service, albeit in the whiniest voice possible.

I've asked for essays, for writing, for art, for pedicures. I've asked for much more creative things, too, but I find the little things are easiest to do and they add into bigger things.

The big D/s scenes are more fun this way, though we haven't done one in awhile. I find it's easier if I break it down into little things. Boot worship, maybe throw in some sadism there, add a bit of body worship, orgasm control, bondage...

I admit, I used to panic when I stepped into my D/s role. My brain would immediately rush from idea to idea and the scene would turn into a jumble. I'd threaten him with certain things and never follow through. I'd forget what I was doing and confuse him completely when I asked for several things at once. Note to self (and other D-types who have this problem); be clear when you're instructing someone. They can't read your mind and they really want to make you happy.

It's taken some time, but now that we're here, I find that I really enjoy having a butler as much as I enjoy having a maso. I love having him 'run the household'. Though a lot of people on the outside of our relationship have commented on how T seems to run everything and be in charge, the duty of a butler is to keep everything running and to make sure their master doesn't have to.

And really, I'd be awful at taking care of a wine cellar (not that we have one).

Not everyone who is submissive is good at service, or wants to be. It takes dedication, love, a stubborn perfectionism and eye for detail. I only wish I could be more the Master my boy deserves. <3

Happy and blindfolded

Happiest blindfolding ever!

I love pictures of happy people doing happy, cute bdsm things together. You don't always have to look stern and tough and angry when you blindfold people. That's fine for scenes and certain kinds of play, but sometimes it's nice to roll around and play and giggle and be happy that you can enjoy this together.

From My Darker Side.

held

A gorgeous photo from i honor her.

I'm not sure if this is breath play, or just a very possessive hug, but the atmosphere is so calm and soft. I don't usually care about full frontal nudity in art, but it's interesting to see a picture of two naked people touching without actually seeing their genitals or breasts.

Polished

Do you know what I love best about having my boy clean and polish my boots?

For the next week or so, however long the shine lasts, every time I look down at my boots, or put them on, or take them off, I think about him. I get this wonderful rise of emotions. Pride at having such a practical and considerate boy. Lust, remembering him rubbing the polish into my boots with his fingers, being able to feel it through the leather and the fun that ensued. And of course love, for someone so invaluable who deems me worthy to be their dominant.

There is nothing more wonderful than having someone you admire and respect go down on their knees and polish your boots for you.

This is a picture of my boots from three years ago. Unfortunately they have gone to boot heaven now, but they served me well.

Did I mention I got new boots?

Did I mention that we've been playing with boots a lot lately?

Heh, there might be a lot more posts about boots for awhile. Hope no one minds!

heartification

Gorgeous work from Anoki. Sweet stockings and a cute scarification.

Picture removed

Picture removed

On being available

As one of the few sadists who is out and active in my kink community, I get a lot of offers for play. I think it may also have something to do with the fact that I'm fairly non-threatening, respectful and I do want people to get some sort of play out of parties.

However, I've been approached so many times for play at parties that my boy has started to feel as if the other people I play with are hedging in on our time. It isn't the fact that I'm playing with other people that's causing the unhappy feelings, so much as the constant pressure from a community that is full of unowned bottoms and people who don't get to do much bottoming in their relationships.

I'm aware that no one ever means to put that pressure on a sadist or the sadist's spouse/partner/masochist, but with a large group of people who look at me with doe eyes and ask 'so, have any plans for the next party?' well, it gets to be a bit much. Yes, there are plenty of people who approach me with the utmost respect, who give me time before a party, who realize that my partner comes first, but it's still a pressure.

This isn't the first time I've heard of a top getting harassed by bottoms. Apparently it's fairly common for communities to be bottom-heavy (tee-hee). I won't let it keep me from the community, but it has changed my priorities. At first I tried to accommodate them, but it put a strain on my pet and I, so now I've decided that I won't be playing with others for some time. I may eventually play with a few, who are close friends and who approach me with my partner there, but nothing for now. It just seems best to relieve the pressure completely.

Carrion will post about this eventually too.

Spayed!

So, I hate my period. Not just like, 'meh, I don't like it, myeh myeh'. No. I fucking can't stand it. The thought of having it for the next fifty-odd years (even as infrequently as I actually get it) fills me with dread and disgust. I hate the smell, I hate the mess, I hate the way it makes me cramp. I'm pretty sure that most of the depression I have during my period is strictly blood-related. And the fact that I can't reconcile being a non-woman bleeding out of a hole I don't even use. Seriously. Keeping a hole in your body thats only purpose is to bleed and drive you insane? I think not.

Soooo my doctor learned that I'd never been to the gynecologist, so he made me an appointment. I was seriously freaked out. I mean, I don't like having things in there at the best of times. And I insisted on it being a woman. Illixim went to a man, and he was so super creepy perky. Totally unsettling.

So I get there, and it's a very tall, very mannish woman who could easily have been trans (even my grandma thought she was a lesbian, but I'll get to that). And she's totally cool with Illixim being there, and she gets that we're a couple and includes her in the discussion and asks what I'm there for. I tell her about the evil period of doom and how what I really want is for it to go away. And she's all "Have you considered a hysterectomy?"

[pause for rant. I really hate the word hysterectomy. You're not removing my hysteria. Which, c'mon, totally loaded word. It's fucking infuriating. Anyway.]

And I'm all, "Derrr...will it MAKE IT STOPPP?!!!!"

So, upshot. Yes. It will make it stop, and there are no non-surgical complications, and I got to have this whole discussion in a backless hospital gown tucked under one of those stupid sheets, which is always a great way to make Grown-up Decisions TM, but nothing got stuck inside me and I went away with hope.

[note: I tried the whole 'take birth control to minimize period' thing. I started taking it in the middle of my period. My period stopped, and then started again. Immediately. Everyone was all 'Oh, yuss, just take it for a few months and it'll settle down and maybe you won't get it." FUCK THAT NOISE! I would rather get my period every six months or so and yes, have a week of utter miserable hell, than have it settle down for a few months. Noooooo.]

So I went home with my handful of brochures and went to several semi-ridiculous sites. Ok. I get that for some women having their uterus removed is really traumatic, because they have cancer, or they want children, or whatever. But making a website where you can't use 'child related' things in your username so it won't offend anyone? Wow.

I had several people ask me about the whole having (or more to the point, not) children. And I did have a little unhappy Darwin dance in my head, I will admit, and some evolutionary guilt over opting out of the gene pool. But technically, I could still have children. They could still be my eggs, they would just need to grow somewhere else. But I would still be contributing as much to the continuation of the species as say, a man: I would be donating my genetic material in germ form. Also, I really don't want children. I hate the little fuckers. Sure, I'll hang out with them from time to time, and babies are amusing for about an hour. But I hate people. And I sure as hell hate what amount to even more ignorant people. So, no. And besides, I shouldn't have children. I would be an insanely shitty parent. I am -way- too involved in myself, my life, and my happiness to bring some attention-stealing parasite into my world. But at least I can admit it. And who would want to bring a kid into this shit world, while I'm on the subject?

At some point during this period I watched Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, and I just loved the line "I barely survived my own childhood, I don't want to be responsible for someone else's" or however it goes. Totally sums up my philosophy. So, yeah, that was a total non-issue. Again, see above re: involved in myself. I was only worried about the consequences directly involving me.

But they sounded pretty minimal. So I made another appointment and went in to say yes, I want the surgery.

[At this point, I should probably mention something else about myself. I have a medical fetish. Like, a really big one. Since I was at least five. But I've never had any major medical things, especially not voluntary ones. When I was little I had a Sesame Street book about Grover going to the hospital to get his tonsils out, and I loved it. It was like preschool porn for me. But did I ever get surgery? Nooo. Did this influence my decision...maybe. A little. Yeah. Totally.]

And then I waited. And finally, on November 16th, Louis Riel's execution day, my surgery date was set for December 22nd, the day after Winter Solstice. Very significant seeming.

So, I set my affairs in order, got a will kit, joined my grandfather's memorial society (weird, very weird. But then, I have a morbid family. I come by it honestly). Just in case. And I waited. Then the surgery got postponed to January 4th, because some woman had the gaul (is that the right kind of gaul? gall? I think it's gall. But the other one is funnier and makes me think of Asterix) to have cancer. I know, right? (No, seriously, the woman who called to let me know was super apologetic. No matter how many times I said, you know, it's alright, cancer completely trumps my elective surgery, she just kept apologizing.)

[another rant: I hate when that happens. It really angers and depresses me. Like, how many people did the poor receptionist have to talk to who honestly thought that their shit was more important than saving someone's life? Those situations, when someone is apologizing for something a) reasonable and/or b) out of their control...Fuck, I hate people.]

So I got to have Christmas not as a cripple. Yay. Then it was just more waiting until...

The hospital! Illixim was going to work, because there was no point in her freaking out rattling around the hospital (as it turns out there was, because she was just freaking out rattling around work. Oh well.) So I got a ride from a friend, but he didn't stay, so I was all alone and a little anxious. I forgot my coat in reception and had to go back down and get it. But everyone was super nice and made everything really easy.

[I just thought of another of my Weird Deciding Factors. You should read that in John Candy's voice, like from Little Shop of Horrors. He was my favorite actor as a child, mostly if not entirely because of his last name. Anyway. Illixim, being a responsible pet owner, believes that pets should be spayed or neutered. And I'm a pet. So...]

So I read my book and waited for like three hours, until they had to take my book away and shuffle me down to the surgical waiting room, where I had the only magazine (it was also really cold, so me and the patient in the little booth directly across from me were both huddled under blankets. I had been cold since the first waiting room, where the only non-nice nurse had been all "Don't touch the bed if you don't have to, someone else has to use it!" but then I was cold so I grabbed the folded blanket and tucked myself in on the chair--which I moved to a better position. I also nabbed a chair with arms in the surgical waiting room. I always think, I am a human, and I adapt my environment to suit my needs! Anyway. And she kind of glared at me when she saw me with the blanket. Weird.

So, I had the only magazine, which was great. Unfortunately, it was from ICR. And worse, it was only like three pages long. So I didn't even have any length of religious wackery (I'm not one to bash religions, but some of it is just wackery, plain and simple. Like, when someone says "reason for the season" THE ONLY thing that comes into my head is Ned Flanders) to occupy me, but then people kept showing up to talk to me, like my gynecologist, who was also my surgeon, which was nice, and she patted me on the knee, which made me feel better. She also told me I would have to take a stool softener, and I'm not sure if she told me it would be a big red pill and I absorbed the information subconsciously, or if I just psychically knew, but it is indeed a big red pill. Then they put me in the operating room and started hooking me up and putting a railway tunnel...I mean IV...in and all that. They also gave me some funny-smelling gas and I started grinning like an idiot, and the last thing I remember thinking is, jeez, why am I grinning like an idiot, I should probably stop but I can't seem to...Luckily they didn't put me in the stirrups until I was out.

Then I woke up and two women were leaning over me, and I was pretty dopey and out of it. One of the first things I remember them asking was "Why did you decide not to have children?" Honestly. I shit you not. 'cause, wow, timing. Everyone joked later that I should have said, "What?! I can't have children?! What did you people do to me?!!!" But I just grinned blearily and gave them the Don't Be Afraid of the Dark party line.

Then they wheeled me into my room. A private room would have been $120/night, so I said no, but...I got a private room anyway, as it turned out. Yay!

And then I laid there for a bit and people ambled around and I really hated my catheter. Seriously. Nothing else hurt. Just the catheter. And eventually the IV. The holes in my abdomen? Nope. The stitches in my vagina? Nosir. That would make, you know, sense.

And then Illixim and my grandma (who was a huge hit with all the nurses) showed up, and I was so happy to see them! And I felt pretty good. Illixim had found a get well card in the hospital gift shop that had a picture of a cat that looked like one of ours, but it was a religious get well card. I'm not sure how that works. "Get well, or Jesus will kill this cat"?

Eventually my grandma left and we had some food and I was still feeling good (except for the damn catheter) so they decided I could get up and walk around. I walked to the bathroom and back and was sitting back on my bed when I really, really had to puke. I told the nurse as quickly as I could, and she brought me one of those stupid, tiny kidney bean shaped dish things. Like, yes, if a bee had to puke, it would be plenty. A human being? Not so much. Yeah. I felt pretty bad. So the catheter stayed in.

Then they gave me some Gravol, which made me really, really sleepy, and then Illixim had to go, so I read, but then I was awake, so I made them give me more--not because I was queasy, but because it had put me so wonderfully to sleep and I was feeling sorry for myself.

Of course, they kept taking my temperature/blood pressure/oxygen-finger-clampy thing all night, and it was bright, and there were crazy old ladies across the hall, so I didn't sleep -well-, but...the light string that attaches to the pillow is brilliant.

Of course, when I woke up in the morning, the catheter wasn't bothering me, and I had cream of wheat, which I've never had before, and now I know why. Because it's lumpy phlegm. But that's ok.

And then Illixim showed up again, and I was so happy. And then we signed my release and she wheeled me out and I found out about how our bank had fucked up, so my grandparents got my prescriptions, and then I went home.

And I've felt, overall, better than I do during my period. And now I won't get it. So, rad. Totally in favour. Everyone should go get one. I've been moving a little slow, but it's been rare for me to be in pain. Mostly it's just discomfort, which is totally worth it. And I can (I mean, have to) rest for six weeks. Which reminds me of Stupid Internface. So in the morning this guy shows up, literally two minutes after they took out my catheter, and the nurse is still standing there from having taken it out, and he goes, "Have you been up to pee yet?" Nurse: "We just took out the catheter." Internface: "Oh. Ok." Then he talked at me some more, told me I should just rest for two weeks, making me want to remove one of his organs and tell him that, and then asked if I had been up to pee yet. Nurse: "We JUST took out the catheter." And, you know, I've been laying here this whole time. In your view. Not peeing. Or walking. *facepalm*

Oh yes. I also wanted to email Adam Corolla and tell him I'm suing him for tearing the stitches in my vagina, because his book is freaking hilarious. Except that I hear it in the voice of Spanky Ham. Which doesn't seem to be entirely inaccurate.

Snuggly BDSM love

Art by Jedesto.

Aw, look at the snuggliness.

I can never get enough of this; affection and trust between two people in a D/s relationship.
So many people expect these relationships to be unhealthy, full of fear of the dominant and anger or even disgust towards the submissive. I've seen some unhealthy kinky relationships, yes. But I've seen far more unhealthy vanilla relationships. The strong kinky couples (or trios, or groups) that I've met are stronger for their kink and for the trust and communication something like this requires. You can't just snap a leash on someone without talking to them about how they feel about it first, and you can't expect any relationship to work if you're not willing to share thoughts and feelings in both directions.

Connection and happiness

Her smile! I love this! There's nothing better than a top smiling their face off because they're amazed by their bottom. I find this happening during edge play, where I realize that my boy can go as far as I can take him. I realize that we're connected in a way that so few people are. It's an amazing feeling.

Love and subspace

What a great expression. Subspace gives my pet this exact expression. Eyes mostly closed, lips parted, face flushed... so darling.

As with a lot of my favorites, this beautiful picture is from Male submission art.

Love and blindfolds

The title says it all. <3

From Vish Studio.

bells

I found a new idea (new to me, at least) sometime last week and I've been sitting on it for awhile, finding what I needed and teasing my sub with hints and such. I had to purchase a few things, but it was very cheap.

I needed sewing needles, the thinnest I could find with a very thin eye, strong but thin thread and several different sizes of little bronze bells.

I also needed disinfectant and I had my first aid kit handy just in case, as well as my Sharps container for any needles that I threw away.

First I got T to dance for me, naked. I suggested that perhaps she wasn't... jingly enough. 

I got her to lay down on a blanket that we have for scenes, that has seen many different stains; wax, blood, all that good stuff. Heh. I gave her a pillow and made her comfy. I only told her then what I had planned. She'd already guessed that I was going to pierce her, but she had no idea what I wanted beyond that.

So I pierced her straight through with threaded sewing needles, drawing the thread through. It was really hard, actually, to push the needle all the way through, much harder than I had expected. Especially because the needles were so thin that they were sharp at both ends and pushing them through hurt my fingers. (She was the one getting pierced, but I was the one saying 'ouch!') I've only ever pierced her with needles that don't go all the way through, that have a cap at one end, so this was new for both of us.

Once the needle itself was through, she went wild when I pulled on the thread that was now going through her skin. Most of them were almost perfect too.happy sigh I've been learning the right depths to pierce at. When I first got my needles, I pierced her so they were barely under the skin. I went too deep only once (the needles we have are hollow, and the cap filled with blood when I went to deep... it looked wonderful) but by now I am much more confident about piercing.

She was great, telling me where she was too sensitive (we tried her shoulders but she's too tense) and asking me for water and snuggles when she needed them. She was dizzy twice, but since she was laying down it wasn't a problem. I actually had her vomit once from piercing, when we did it standing up a few months ago. I think she might have also been sick, but <.< I'm sure the piercing didn't help how she was feeling, since it tends to make her a bit lightheaded.

Anyways I should probably stop with the suspense. We threaded her so that she had threads hanging from her wrists, her breasts, through her bellybutton, four in the hips and one below her navel. I tied bells to all the threads and made her dance for me again.

And it was lovely.

We left them in for maybe an hour before I cut the threads and pulled them out of her. There was a tiny bit of blood, but I disinfected her and there was no need for bandages. She'll have some awkward marks on his wrists, but we have a kitten to blame it on. They could be mistaken for puffy bite-marks. <.<

I plan on doing variations of this soon. I still have many needles and I've fallen in love with piercing. It just makes me so happy, like a good spanking or playing with knives. Almost as relaxing as a long bath ;)

I feel so satisfied that the idea worked. I was so worried that it wouldn't.

Ahhhh happy sigh

I wrote this about 2 years ago, after a wonderful scene that I have been dying to retry. I have more interesting piercing ideas, I just haven't done them yet!  This is my reminder to myself :)

Broken glass

Beautiful portrait of two characters covered in broken glass. The expressions are almost meditative, peaceful. I just like the idea that though masochism makes most people think that they should be wincing, crying, that pain should be a punishment, or that it's something to be avoided, it doesn't have to be. Sometimes pain is just what you need, sometimes it's a reward, a connection you have with someone else. I am admittedly not much of a masochist, but life seems very clear and sharp when I do scenes with pain.

Anyway, lovely art by Sarah Cloutier. She's up in the top ten of my favorite artists. I'm not sure if this is watercolors, but a lot of her work is.

It's been a long time since I posted! Hopefully I'll be a bit more regular again.

holding hands in cuffs

An adorable picture of two people cuffed together, holding hands. I really love the feeling of affection and care I get from this picture. BDSM doesn't have to be a big scary thing. It can be beautiful, sweet and affectionate.

rope suspension kisses

An adorable picture from pretty kinky things. Rope suspension and kisses!

just a touch

Blindfolded affection. Lovely.

bloody affection

Some sexy bloody lovin'.

Art from itsatrap.

How to love poem

Lovely poem from gender queer Chicago, called How to Make Love to a Trans Person.

by Gabe Moses

Forget the images you've learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it's highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she's "had the surgery."
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she'd lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They're just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It's what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That's the important part.
Don't worry about the bodies.
They've got this.