Category Archives: kink

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.

Where have all the “true” doms gone?

It’s something I’ve been encountering for years now. While I have been in the kink community for a very short time compared to some more seasoned members, I’ve had my fair share of “doms” attempting to pursue me. I’ve sometimes even been the domme pursuing someone myself. The joys of being a switch!

In all the time I’ve been in the community though, I’ve only encountered a few of what I call legitimate dominant people. It is as easy as saying the word to call yourself “dominant” but actually living the principles of the moniker are much harder and rarely done right. There have been a handful in my life who are excellent at it. Compared to the whole of “dominant” people though, they are merely a teaspoon in an ocean of idiots.

I think the thing I see most frequently is people assuming “dominant” means being pushy. The thought process is something like this: “Well, maybe if I ask enough/talk enough/push enough she/he will give in and I’ll have my way.” Clearly I have paraphrased here. Only pure idiots and jerks would think that exact line. But the thought is the same. If someone politely declines an invitation or says they will not be able to make it to an event/munch/play party/date, take that and be okay with it. Asking once if circumstances have changed and thus said person would be allowed to attend said event is allowable in my book. Asking 15 times is not. While 15 may be an exaggerated number, I don’t feel it’s that unheard of for something of that sort to happen.

Most of the “dominants” I’ve encountered in my time have been nothing more then pushy jerks who are frequently misogynistic. When you have no compunction or regard for women, it is easy to treat them like some object to be acquired instead of valued members of society who contribute equally to a relationship that should be built on time, trust and communication. Someone who constantly pushes me to do something I have neither the time, interest or wish to do will lose that trust I have in them, however small it may be at the time.

Call me naive, but I see kinky relationships to be out of the Victorian era. It’s about courting a lover, not throwing your will and assuming their life. Small steps and small favors go miles in my world. Trust is something earned over a long period of time, but can be destroyed with a very minor misstep. We are a community of protocols and hierarchies. If you know a submissive has someone in their life, would you instantly go to the submissive and sidestep the perhaps interested partner? Common etiquette and decency would say no, but oh so frequently I see it happening. It happens on Fetlife so often that I see many submissives/slaves/owned peoples put warnings in their profiles to contact their dominant/master/owner/etc. first before any communication is even made.

Perhaps in a rush to sexual liberation and freedom we’ve forgotten what it means to be courteous. I post pictures of myself on Twitter and Fetlife all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m a whore or a slut. More so, it doesn’t mean I’m YOUR whore or slut to treat and do with as you please. Would you go up to a girl in a bar and flash your cock at her? Public decency laws would have you arrested for exposure. Sure, there is a form of anonymity on the world wide web that most people take as license to do how they please, but it seems to be there is a renaissance of people who would rather have a good conversation than a good fuck.

Being dominant does not have to mean being an asshole. Being submissive does not mean having to be a doormat. Stand up for your rights and take back your title. Respect and trust is earned. Say what you want about my views, but I prefer intellectual conversation that leads to great kink than crappy kink with no trust.


So I have something that’s been on my mind for awhile. I’ve long defined myself as polyamorous, meaning I can love more than one person at a time and be involved with more than one person at a time. It’s just something very natural for me. Why not love more than one person? The more love, the better in my mind. Ideally those people also love each other, making it a more equal relationship, but it’s not always necessary.

That being said, I’ve noticed this very strong sentiment that a submissive can have no more than one dominant at a time. There’s that old saying from the Bible:

No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.” – Luke 16:13

Much like I question most every other part of the Bible, I question this as well. I guess what really started me thinking about this was MinxGrrl’s post about having more than one Daddy because each plays a different role for her. I found myself relating to that post because everything I had been conditioned up until that point told me that when you have a Daddy, you have one Daddy.

Why do we have such strict rules about that? People, regardless of their role in my life, fulfill different purposes. Each brings and contributes something different to my life. So far I have found no single person to provide everything I need for me. That may be because I’m young and I’m still searching for my “soulmate,” if you believe in that term. I believe though that it’s because there is no one person who can provide me everything I need emotionally, physically, spiritually and intellectually. Hell, I am a complex person and finding someone do to each as well as I need them to is beyond difficult.

I’ve talked with a lot of dominants in my time, male or female. I’ve experienced different ways of being dominant and I’ve dabbled in being dominant myself. I can definitely see both sides here. There is an inherent¬†territoriality¬†that comes along with natural dominance. You want what is yours. I don’t share well myself in fact. I also understand though that we all need different things, some of which I can’t or am not able to provide for someone. I have strengths, weaknesses, dislikes and likes, just like everybody else. Finding someone to match them perfectly is difficult, if not impossible.

In my time searching for a dominant, I will admit to juggling a few at a time. It seems like there are more people who call themselves “dominant” than there are actual dominants out there. Fakers and players abound. Of the population of dominants leftover after you take away all the ones who can’t actually provide what they say they can, there aren’t that many good ones leftover. The ones that are left are either taken or don’t quite fit with me, but usually I find one or two aspects of their style or what they offer to be appealing.

Each person in my life is there for a specific reason. Dominants are no different. Why is the long held rule that a submissive can have only one dominant there? My only guess is people do not want to share. I completely understand it, but at the same time I feel we may be doing a disservice to submissives by having that general rule. If someone can provide to you what your primary dominant doesn’t, why shouldn’t you consider experiencing the opportunity with that person? Limiting yourself will only limit your experiences in life. I am a person who wants to experience as much as I can in this life. If that involves having more than one dominant at a given time, then so be it.

To me, it seems there are ways to work around scheduling, tasks, goals, physical things, etc. Sure, having two dominants controlling a submissive in a given scene will probably not work. I’ve never experienced co-topping in person, but to me it seems like two natural dominants will only end up butting heads more than working together smoothly. One of the dominant personalities will ultimately have to take second fiddle and while that can flip flop during the scene, it seems to me that would make the dominants more switches than pure dominants. There’s nothing wrong with that by any means. I consider myself a switch and can see myself co-topping as long as there is that natural ebb and flow of power between the tops.

My challenge is this now – finding people who understand and agree with this. From the conversations I’ve had with dominants, this seems to be one of their least favorite things to talk about. They want to talk about them, about me, about the news, about the weather, but they don’t want to talk about the possibility that I may not get everything I need and want out of them. That I may need to search for what is lacking in other people.

It’s a hard road I’m on, being polyamorous, polyfuckerous (a term a friend of mine coined) and polydomerous. It’s one that is fraught with heartache and accusations. But it’s one I can’t see myself not being on. I am what I am and while it may grow and evolve, I don’t see this certain aspect of my personality fading for now or a long time afterward.

Nothing To Be Ashamed About

When Lent rolled around this year, my mother the practicing Catholic asked me what I’d given up for Lent. For those that are unaware, Catholics give up something they cherish during the Lenten season as a sign of penance and to be more Christ-like. While I am not a Catholic nor do I consider myself Christian, I felt I should at least humor her and give her an answer.

“I gave up shame,” I replied.

She gave me a confused look and said, “But you have nothing to be ashamed about.”

She hit the nail on the head with that one. I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about in my life. I live my life how I choose to live it. I make no excuses about my behavior and I try to live by one supreme rule. “Treat others how you would want to be treated.” Nothing complicated about that, I feel.

As a secretly kinky person, I choose to disclose my more adventurous side to a select few. Granted writing this blog is disclosing it to the world, but I would say a handful of people in my real life know of my kinky side. Less than a dozen tops. It’s not because I’m ashamed of it at all.

It’s because I feel that my lifestyle and my preferences don’t need to be broadcast to everybody around me. My sensuality and sexuality is precious and is for sharing with those I deem worthy of it. I am a goddess in my own right. Every woman is. While I don’t judge those that blatantly share their sexuality with the world, I have chosen to take a more discrete route. I need to trust someone before I come out and say I want to be tied down to my bed and fucked senseless on a routine basis. I need to trust that they won’t judge me because I wouldn’t judge them.

Not everybody can live the lifestyle I do and want the things I want, I understand that. It takes a very special person to understand the mindset and the mentality this place inside me comes from. On the whole I have found that men are more interested in experimenting in being kinky than women. Unfortunately the flip side of that is once you tell a man you’re kinky two things happen. (1) He flips out and runs away. (2) That’s all he sees you as. Any chance of slow passionate sex disappears into the ether. Granted I will tell you right away I have limited experience with disclosing said kinky nature to real life men and even less experience participating in said kinky activities, but I’ve found this to be generally true.

Women, on the other hand, tend to be more judgmental. They are either interested (very rare), unaffected by my disclosure, or completely disgusted. Sadly most of my experiences with friends has fallen into the last category. This is entirely unfortunate because I feel that judging someone based on one select aspect of them is entirely unwarranted. It’s akin to racism or sexism. That one aspect does not dominate and make up their entire being.

Awhile ago I took the position that I should never be ashamed of my nature. I should never be ashamed of what I do. I should never be ashamed of these thoughts and tendencies I have.

I will continue to live by this, Lenten season or not.

Romantic Love vs. Kinky Play

I have a hard time dealing with this dichotomy. What blend of romantic love and kinkiness do I want in my life?

I’ve known from an early age that my relationships can’t survive on vanilla alone. I have these urges and desires deep inside of me. They gnaw away at my thoughts and consume me from time to time. My pleasures swing like a pendulum to and fro between wanting to be held down and fucked senseless to cuddled and made love to. The distinction between leather and lace for me.

I walk the line between two worlds, neither of which I feel entirely comfortable in. The vanilla world lacks excitement for me. Guys who bristle at the idea of using a toy in the bedroom much less holding a woman down while he’s doing it. At the same time the men who are so dominant as to not want to cuddle with me don’t appeal to me either. I like being held close, made to feel like I’m wanted, safe and protected. Guys who say they don’t cuddle lose some kind of luster when they say that.

Whenever I start talking to a potential interest lately, I can’t help but feel like they don’t see me for me. They don’t see beyond the body or the fantasies. I am more than a set of holes for your use. Sure, they are there for you to use as you please, but there is also something more to me than just that. My heart is what is really important. My heart and my brain.

For a man to truly own me and control me, he has to have my heart. He needs to make me want to submit. That I love him so much that my submission is my ultimate gift for him, a gift that he should treasure and hold sacred.

Perhaps I ask too much. Perhaps I want it all. Perhaps I am too naive in the ways of the world at my age. Perhaps I have not experienced enough to know you can’t always get what you want.

Honestly I don’t know ultimately if I will find what I am looking for. I hold out hope that there is someone out there for me, searching, wishing and waiting just like I am for a woman just like me. That we share the same lonely nights and need for more than what we currently have. Because without the hope that someone is perfect for me and me for him, I don’t have much of anything left.

Kink is great fun and gets me wet. But at the end of the day, it is ultimately the love of a deep and meaningful relationship I crave.

The bruises are just a bonus.

Rebirth and Renew!

With the resurgence of my internet presence, I have decided to renew and rebrand my blog. While I still will include personal ramblings and my day to day life (how could I not?), I plan to use this blog from now on to detail my struggles with integrating and incorporating kink into my daily vanilla life. I have some great plans for this blog and I really look forward to bringing my readers some amazing things soon.

What makes me an “undercover kinkster?” I’m living in a buttoned up, black and white world when all I want to do is be free and live in shades of grey. My friends are shocked and embarrassed when I mention anything remotely kinky. “Oh, I know you like it rough,” my one friend casually mentioned once. “I know you like to be dominated,” she mentioned another time. I blushed and changed the topic. Am I open to talking about it? Of course. Ask me anything and I will answer. I’m not thrilled with the condescending tones and judgmental looks. I’m not crazy, insane or otherwise mentally ill. I’m stable and intelligent. I’ve done my research and everything for me is based on the essential BDSM language: “safe, sane and consensual.” I would never look down on someone’s fetishes or kinks if all that are involved are of consenting age and go into it full aware of what they are doing. All I want is to be accepted for who I am and what I like.

In the several years I have been slowly integrating myself more and more into the world of kink, I have begun to refine what excites me. My list is too long to mention here, but I’m sure as time goes on you will get a feel of what goes on in my head.

Welcome and stay for awhile …. I’ll do my best to keep you interested and entertained.