Category Archives: fetish

The Return to Kink Play

Any of you who have been following my blog for any length of time will know that I’ve been out of the kink scene for … well, longer than I wanted to be. Sure, I’ve been active online through my own various perversions, Fetlife and porn of course, but actual in person play? Oh geeze. The last time I had any good, solid play was last April when I went to SINSations in Leather in Chicago.

The last couple of months I have been on the hunt for suitable playmates who have compatible interests with my own. I thought finding someone who enjoyed dishing out a good spanking and beating wouldn’t be so hard in the third largest city and surrounding area in the United States. Right? Wrong. Finding someone I want to play with is work on so many levels. Besides the obvious trust issues, it has to be someone I have an intellectual and physical attraction to. That alone is a daunting task. They also need to share at least some of my kinks and have a willingness to push through some of the bratiness and little girl behavior that I sometimes exhibit when playing.

Needless to say, it felt like a daunting task. I found someone I trust … then found out he liked kink but not beating. Okay next. I found someone willing to beat me, but with little time to do so when my schedule afforded me the opportunity. Next again. My biggest stumbling point was my anxiousness in actually meeting someone “new.” That could go wrong in any number of ways! (Kink PSA – if someone doesn’t have recommendations from people you even remotely know, it’s best to take things slow and meet up somewhere public.)

I found myself conversing with someone I’d met at SINSations and enjoyed the company of while there. He’s a friend of my friends, well respected and pretty public on the scene. I played my cat and mouse game, leaving hints, suggestive comments and at times outright requests. Finally he said, “Do you want to play?” Thanks to busy schedules and random things, it took some time to finally line up the day.

I soon found myself sitting outside of a “seedy” hotel by O’Hare International Airport. The idea was a rendezvous at what you’d normally consider a seedy hotel and make it feel all gritty and “wrong.” One of my kinks is a bit of degradation play and I loved this idea. We’d talked about some things that were possibilities for play, but quite honestly I just wanted someone else to decide these things. There are a few things that are no-gos for me, hard limits they’re called. No hair pulling. No ball gags (in general.) No extensive bruising in areas I couldn’t cover. I’m sure I’m forgetting some here.

He was lovely through dinner, as expected. When we got back to the room though, I was ready. I’d prepped myself mentally and physically to get beat and my bum was so ready to feel the warm sting of pain. I’ve always found that transitioning from conversation to full out play to be an awkward thing, but thankfully simply bending over to look in my purse for lipbalm turned into getting my ass felt up and fingernails raked across my back. I still have delicious marks three days later from all the scratches.


Side note – You’ll forgive me here if I’m a little sketchy on the details. I was a bit preoccupied to really digest what was going on, but I will give you the highlights. 

Since he’s a rope guy and I’m interested in playing with rope more often than once a year, my wrists were bound so I couldn’t wiggle too much. As he’d told me ahead of time, I got thrown on the bed and my bum got inspected. The glorious return to hands and fists pounding on me. How I missed thee. My body has changed a lot since the last time I played and he found new areas that I didn’t know would be tender and sweet. I guess losing 15 pounds in a year will do that to a person. When I flinched or squirmed after he hit a particular area, that was the cue to focus.

Bound and immobilized into the fetal position, my ass soon became the target for a roll of fun toys. I know someone of them thanks to familiar sensations but I couldn’t tell you exactly given that I was face down in the bed. Floggers, paddles, fists and hands – oh my! Cold lube was spread on my asshole and something cold and hard was pressed in. To my great delight it was a delicious anal hook. Yes, I after admiring them for years, my anal hook cherry was finally popped. It was roped to my wrist and ankle restraints such that when I squirmed too much it would effectively make the hook pull tighter. More blows ensued and I felt the hot glow of familiarity. My apple bottom was soon becoming a red delicious apple, borrowing a phrase from my tormenter.

Here’s where I make another PSA. Anal play in real life isn’t like porn, people. Weird things happen. Embarrassing things happen. One of the most mortifying moments of my life happened. Will I tell you? Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that. The sign of a good top is taking that embarrassment I was feeling and turning into mood for the scene. Seamlessly putting me in that shy, little girl mode that made me blush bright red and apologize what felt like a thousand times. It was a credit to my playmate that he was able to do that and do that well. Am I still embarrassed? Hell yes. Honestly I think I’ll be embarrassed about it for years.

He stood me up and proceeded to pay attention to my forgotten front side. Punches, scratches, slaps and all kinds of other blows landed on my supple breasts and flesh. The upper sides of my breasts and armpit area are still sore. One thing that was lovely about this particular “seedy” hotel room was that there were several mirrors in there, probably more than you’d think for a low budget hotel. There’s nothing like watching someone pound away on your flesh than watching it in a mirror. It’s a fun combination of objectification, degradation and submission.

It seemed we were winding down and we both agreed it was probably better to stop. His theory? Have a few slower, introductory scenes before having longer phenomenal scenes. My pounding, burning ass wasn’t disagreeing and neither was my mind. We cuddled and chatted, exchanging stories of weird things that had happened to us in our regular lives and kink lives. Inevitably parting ways with a hug and an agreement that it was fun, I was on my merry little way back to life in white bread America. My ass felt every bump in the road during my drive, by the way.

Days later I’m left with lovely purple bruises and a wonderful ache in my ass. I’m also left with a desire to do it again and do it more in depth. We didn’t play with a lot of the d/s themes I’m looking for still, but that takes time. Building that connection and that chemistry doesn’t happen overnight and certainly doesn’t happen the first time you play with someone. It’s a slow give and take. For me, it’s a process of learning and trusting to give up power. It’s about finding myself in the mindset to want to do so.

Would I play with this person again? Yes, very much so. My bruises tell me he definitely has the ability and skill I’m looking for and glimpses of the dominance I crave. But much like life, it’s an evolution. Nobody knows where things may take us or when schedules may line up again.

My return to kink and impact play was enjoyable and only left me wanting more. That adrenaline rush is addictive. I’ve long admitted I am addicted to the pound of a fist, the woosh of a flogger, the impact of a paddle and the throw of a glance. The only question is when I’ll get my next hit of my addiction.

Long Time, No Blog

So it’s been awhile since I’ve been here, I know. I could give you some bullshit excuse why I haven’t been around more (*cough*bar exam*cough*) but besides that doozie of an excuse, August has pretty much been the month from hell for me so far.

Stress has been majorly kicking my ass lately. Admittedly 90% of the year I do not have a very stressful job. It’s quiet and there’s not much work involved in it. I sit at a desk and answer calls. I take rent money and try to collect rent when people are delinquent in paying. That 10% of the year that is stressful though is just an absolute 100% nightmare. When everybody is moving in and out of apartments, I get constant and continual bitching from everybody on all sides. The tenants bitch when things aren’t done; maintenance bitches that we push them too hard and they don’t have time to do everything. My boss and co-worker bitches that people are too whiny (because having all the toilets in the apartment not working is whining?) Meanwhile, I answer calls and get to deal with everybody on all sides.

But all that is beside the point. I also haven’t blogged a lot because I just don’t feel I have anything interesting to say. I haven’t done anything kinky, sexy or otherwise fetish-oriented in a very long time. I think that’s what’s been getting me the most lately. I have no outlet for these thoughts and desires. Sure, I get them like normal and get them with a vengeance sometimes. I express them to someone who listens and wants to work through them with me, but he is across the country and only can do so much for me.

That brings me to my biggest stumbling point lately. I am desperately lonely. When I went on my chastity vow last October, I thought I would go a couple months tops before it “felt right” again. Maybe at the worst I’d go six months. Actually I felt that if I went six months, I would be in really good shape and would have broken my tendency to engage in the destructive behaviors that led to me taking my vow in the first place. I couldn’t have guessed last October that I’d now be going into September of 2011 still without sex or even cuddling. Sure, I’ve played once (SINSations in Leather in April) but one play session does not make for a fulfilling kink life. Ideally, it should be something more regular.

I find myself wondering more and more lately if I’m just going to be alone. It seems like there are so many people out there supporting me, telling me they would love one change to “be with” me, or anything similar. Despite all this, I come home every night from an exhausting job to an apartment filled with stuffed animals for companions. I can’t say I’ve cooked myself a full meal in weeks, if not months. Why go through the effort of cooking a full meal if it’s just going to be me eating it?

In general though, I’m feeling very uninspired. I have all these things I want to do theoretically, but I end up looking into them and not really caring. I want to feel motivated again. I’ve talked before how I would like to get into modeling of some sort and I am still very much so interested in that. Six months ago I had several photographers more than willing to shoot me and the only things standing in the way of that was scheduling and distance. Those people seem to have disappeared into the woodwork now and I’m left with a desire but no photographer.

It seems like my drive to review products is starting to wane too. Everything is alike. How can I make reviews stand out and seem interesting? There are so few products in the sphere of sex and bondage toys that I would be willing to review. I won’t compromise on quality materials and absolutely refuse to use body unsafe materials. Plus it seems like no fetish wear or bondage gear manufacturer or retailer is willing to do any kind of review system. It’s pretty frustrating to find things to review.

So what should I do? I really don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what my next move is going to be. There’s so many things I want to do. So many mountains I want to climb and adventurers to have. It’s just a matter of seeing what comes up and what I’m willing to do. I’m spreading my wings now that school is over, but so much is up in the air right now that I’m still feeling pretty lost right now. Until I have results from the bar exam, I have no idea what to do next in my life.

Sex Postive? It’s Just a Buzz Word

For the longest time I’ve seen references to and people claiming to be “sex positive.” I find many people throw this term of art around, not knowing exactly what they’re talking about by using it.

If you actually search for the definition of “sex positive” you’ll come across many meanings. It seems like nobody can agree on a cohesive definition, but that most definitions you’ll find include central idea to put sexuality in a positive light and be open to all expressions of sexuality. I wouldn’t go as far as to say it “glorifies” the sexual creature, but it usually means that a person who is highly sexual by nature is not looked down on. Sexualized people will be treated just like a non-sexualized person. That is to say, all people are equal. But from that simple statement arises many problems.

The biggest problem I have found is that some people espousing “sex positive” views are typically not positive about sexual (or non-sexual) interests that are not their own in the first place. You can’t look at a population of people and say that just because they like (fill in the blank fetish) or (fill in the blank fantasy) that they aren’t apart of the sex positive community. I watched a short interview with Nina Hartley awhile back who put it very well. She was asked if she ever had encountered a fetish and had reacted something like “OMG that’s so gross! You’re wrong and going to burn in hell!” Of course she hasn’t. Reacting that way is the irrational person’s way of reacting.

The correct and more “sex positive” view is to look if there is consent between and among the parties and then look if it’s harming those who are not participating. If there’s consent and it’s not harming others, then it’s a perfectly acceptable activity to engage in. Those are the two most important questions to ask when viewing other’s actions or interests, not if society views it as morally “wrong” or “right.” What may interest one person may not interest another.

I’ve found myself guilty of this a time or two, whether it be some type of edge fetish play or a relationship style. When I was very strongly pro-polyamory, I found myself looking down on monogamous couples in a way. “How could someone ever want just one partner?!” I was saying to myself, not realizing that I was doing exactly what was being done to me. People looked at me like I was crazy for saying I could and would love more than one person at a time. I’ve seen edge fetish play on Fetlife where my gut instinct is to be grossed out and view it as “wrong.” But then I take a step back and reassess my thinking. The people who participated consented and they were not harming others in doing whatever it was they were doing. The play just wasn’t for me. And that’s okay.

For awhile now I’ve hesitated in labeling myself as sex-positive because it comes with loads of baggage. It sets a bar that if you fall below it, you’re instantly relabeled as some type of repressive heretic. If you make one small comment that could be viewed as “sex negative” you’re shunned and seen as anti-feminism (which is a school of thought I find very sex-negative itself.) Even the most sex-positive person still has reactions and thoughts that they cannot control and that they should be able to express without fear of losing that sex-positive atmosphere.

I’m not sex-positive. I refuse to be called or labeled as such. What am I then? I’m “consent positive.” I’m “free speech-positive.” I’m “share your thoughts and don’t fear the crowds with pitchforks-positive.” If you have something to say about something you see, hear or watch in terms of sexuality, it’s my view that you should be able to express it. There are simply some fetishes I do not find attractive. At the same time though, I can understand how some people would find them attractive. That’s okay. I don’t need to be into your fetish to appreciate you as a human being. I don’t need to be into your fetish to give you the respect you deserve. And I certainly don’t need to be into your fetish to be pro-really really good sex.

Sex positivity isn’t about exclusivity; it’s about inclusion of everyone. We are human beings. We are sexual beings. That should be enough to bring us together, not some buzz word.