Friday night, I went to a social with fellow students. Meet this new second-year kid, got drunk, let him convince me to go with him into the "bear bar" around the corner, got kicked out with him as I have boobs and he has no beard (although gay as Jack from "Will & Grace"), laughed so hard and so much. Yesterday, I got my head massaged at the salon, and then cut off about an inch of hairs. Walked the long way home with my camera in hand and remembered who I am and what I love. Walking with my camera is better than the gym for getting out of my head. I get the fast walking but with many pauses for capturing awesome beauty. This city is fucking incredible and neighborhoods change within 5 blocks of each other. And, I only walked through the 9eme and 10eme.
But for now... thoughts and ideas:
“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.” — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
(oh, the irony)
Random images and thoughts, with some structured description regarding ideas of bdsm:
This is beautiful:
But more of this (I love her expression):
The comfort and security within a corset. Tightening the corset so I can't bend forward for fear of breaking a rib or losing all breath. Pushing my tits up so they almost spill over in entirety. Can they be beaten when in this position?
Crouched on the floor, used as an ottoman.
Stretched from a rig so only my tiptoes touch the floor. Bound with my hands above me. Spreader bar keeping my legs apart. A cane on my outer thighs, clothespins on my inner thighs. Begging for it to end. Whimpering. Crying. Screaming.
This is fucking amazing (from Arno Bani):
The humiliation of being naked, bent over with head on the floor, hands behind my back pulling my sex and ass open for viewing or inspection.
Ball gag and drooling a lot / too much. While being made fun of for being a drooler and not being able to control myself.
All kinds of flogging for hours. Back, legs, ass, chest. I remember one time being on SirK's X-cross, freely giving myself to the experience, spread-eagle, my wrists and ankles free from bondage. He started out slowly and lightly and over time built up speed and force. I remember standing there, thinking how tiring it must be for doms to do this for a long time. It felt like hours, but I'm sure it was only a half-hour maybe. After a while the flogging takes on such a therapeutic feeling like massage. The depth of my muscles were releasing all kinds of tension and toxins. I stopped thinking about him becoming tired or what my ass looked like naked or if I had a high enough tolerance for him and just started feeling each landing on my skin, the swoosh of air, the thwack or snap noise when it landed on me. When he stopped I didn't want him to. And then he'd approach me and ask what I thought was coming next. I was blindfolded so I couldn't foresee the next moments. He'd run the next tool under my nose to smell its leather, run it through my lips to feel its thinness or thickness. Cat o' nine tails (or seven as it were) I remembered most.
Blindfolded all the time. Every time. I love not seeing (although I hate the dark!) and having all other senses heightened. Sure, I feel like an bumbling idiot when I have to walk or move with a blindfold on, but that's part of the fun, right?
I want to try hoods more. SirK put one on me for the first time. No eye holes, no nose holes, no mouth hole, but he left it open and loose at the neck. I want to try more of this. I want to test my fear of the dark and my small-claustrophobia.
I love breath play and enjoy having someone (knowledgeable and practiced!) squeeze my throat as I'm being fucked.
I can't even go into bondage. Being tied in rope turns me on to no end. Tied with my arms behind me, in front of me, my legs apart, my legs closed, tie me up! Tie me down! Combining fucking with being tied up and unable to feel totally comfortable, or be able to assist in the rhythm or the speed, leaving me a helpless fucktoy - joy! Letting me try to wrestle out of the ropes until I lose energy and breath, rolling around like an incapable idiot, and then succumbing to the bondage - total joy. I've been blessed to know rope experts - and to know rope idiots. There's a huge difference.
Humiliation: bondage without rope. ---> Quiet control: I’ve also told her that there would be humiliation. To me this is bondage without rope. I will do something in public to humiliate her and she will sit and listen to it. Silly things like telling a waitress after ordering a meal that, “the girl isn’t eating. She’s being punished for playing with herself without permission” <--- excellent.
I'm not sure I can explain the enjoyment, torture, discomfort, adoration, need, and fear I have for being humiliated. I can remember being fourteen or so, partying my arse off in the big city, coming home way later than curfew, my dad waking up and making me stand in the entryway to their dark bedroom, he in his pijamas, me smelling like smoke and beer, and him proceeding to do the Simon Says game with me. "You want to act like a child, you'll be treated like one. Sit... Stand... Turn around...." I was deeply angry at him for this, as I was at them both for the many spankings over my childhood....but simultaneously I found it exhillarating. It wasn't that I acted out for attention and that their punishments fulfilled that need. It was more like I needed correction, guidance, boundaries, and consequences, and I was always a stubborn kid. What? Don't touch the iron because it's hot? Well.. how hot is it? Maybe you're fooling. Maybe I am Supergirl and can withstand greater heat than you. Touch - sizzle. OWIE!!!! What? Don't run around in the rain without an umbrella? What? You saw me doing that? Spanks. What do you mean I shouldn't leave you at the PTA meeting and go play "Truth or Dare" with my friends in the dark forest when I'm 8 years old and there's a supposed rapist on the loose? Spanks and major groundings.
I asked my parents why they spanked me (since it's such a taboo for parents to do now). They both said there was no other way of getting my attention. Explaining or talking sternly to me wasn't enough for a punishment when I did bad things. Grounding didn't really affect me (as a kid - as a teen it had greater consequence) since I could sit in my room and play with my imagination. Scolding didn't do it. Threatening to hit me with a wooden spoon didn't do it. Sitting in the corner didn't do it. But spanking always always got my attention, they said. And I don't blame them! I haven't been the smartest kid, and I can't help but be adventurous. My mother reminds me of when I was about six years old, playing with a friend in our driveway, and I went inside the garage to close the electric garage door, and ran the thing right over my fingers. We had to go to the emergency room where I got stitches (I guess, I don't remember but have a super cool scar to remind me). They pulled my mother into a private room and asked if there was anything she wanted to talk about. Was she having a hard time with me? Did she need to talk to someone? I was covered in bruises and scrapes and scabs from being an overactive, slightly ungraceful, adventurous kid. They thought she'd been beating me! HA! As if.
Thinking more on this, I'm not sure where the difference is between someone who responded immediately to parents' scolding or disappointment (which was the most affecting of all their words) versus me, who had to have more physical interaction to respond. I know this isn't the same in my adult life. I respond well to a variety of communication.
I like watersports and love the feel of warm piss on my body. I've tasted it before, but I'm not all that interested in drinking it, although I know people who have and do.
Mind fucks. Not sure about this one. I get the "you're blindfolded and tied, he says he's going to drip hot wax, mentally you prepare for this, you get ice cubes instead." But once I got into SirK's car with the outfit on that he'd requested and was on time and everything, yet he scolded me and told me to shut up and not say a word until we got to his place. This time's scene was totally different with more and harder play. At the end of the evening, I asked him why he was yelling at me at the beginning and he said just to fuck with me, to put me into a space of being broken down, and to prepare for a more intense play session. [I'm paraphrasing and shortening the whole description of the events so don't go thinking poorly of him or the situation based on this.] I still remember how I felt while in his car. What had I done wrong? Oh my god, this is _not_ fun. What had I done to deserve this treatment? I hated (not even joking, no arousal, no "oh this is interesting") being punished without having _done_ anything wrong. I was so confused and was trying to do everything right, and had done so, so why was I being punished? I'm still not sure I get it. Sure, I understand the control aspect and the humiliation, but I did not like that I was doing everything right and was still punished. Very confusing.
Fetish wear. I totally want to try walking in those ballet heels. I like wigs. I loved Fasching in Germany because as kids we all got to make and wear masks. I love corsets. I'm a sucker for thigh highs. I dig fishnet. I'm not as familiar with rubber, vinyl, orlatex, and leather reminds me of motorcycle gangs, gay guys, and cougar MILFs.
I like to be shaved, but I'm not so good at reaching all the nether regions myself.
I'd like to be quieted, stored in a closet like a normal toy would be. Or put into little Lolita clothes and put on a blanket in the corner to play with my toys quietly.
I've had a long-standing fantasy to be a nude servant to a guys' poker game. Serve drinks while crawling on my knees, light cigars, be used as a "good luck" token, be gangbanged on a pool table nearby.
Never had clothespins on my labia or had the soles of my feet beaten. Curious.
Pet life. I would love to be on collar and leash, eat out of a bowl, pee in the yard, sleep in a cage, have squeeze toys to chew on, and be swat with a newspaper when I do wrong.
....and the bdsm world is such a wide playground! I'd forgotten how awesome it is. Now, [deep breath] five days until I get a taste again!
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