There isn’t much to say. Got a good whuppin’ over the weekend, with the F.C.T. along with several other toys (Hate bath brushes. Hate them, hate them, hate them! … yes, I know, I keep returning.) The F.C.T.? I am terrified of it, yet I oddly love that I’m terrified of it and he still uses it on me.
The picture below attests to my stoned-out bliss when we were done. Not to mention sheer exhaustion. Bottoming to SincereM is a lot of work!
*Fucking Cat Toy. See the explanation on my old blog.
That’s the slogan on one of my t-shirts (shameless self-plug). But like many of my t-shirt slogans, there is a basis in reality for me. I often feel at peace in subspace; I often feel loved. The attention my top or dom is giving me can change my mood as quickly as flipping a switch. Whether that attention is gentle or painful hardly seems to matter; although, the “peace” of subspace may come later for me if it’s a hard, painful scene.
When I bottomed to Nauttiboy on Friday night at the Life in Nassau party in Albertson, I went into that space pretty quickly. It was a painful scene, with spanking, strapping, paddling, flogging and at one point a pair of pointy metal claw-like attachments to his fingers. It wasn’t as sharp as a knife, but it was painful and left a mark, and I made noise while he was using them. I should explain that when I bottom I rarely ever use a safe word. It’s partially pride, but mostly it’s a desire to be made to take more than I think I can take … and to let it take me where I may need to go. That’s what Nauttiboy was doing as he topped me. He was pushing me. He knows how I play and he knows he can do it to me.
It had been a long, stressful week — I felt like I’d been working constantly and I was emotional over something earlier in the week. It was still in the back of my mind on Friday night. When I started feeling his physical pain I was reminded of this emotional pain. I thought came to me: “Life is painful. Accept it.” But that wasn’t the end of things.
I sometimes see colors when I’m feeling pain. I sometimes see yellow or white light (on rare occasions it’s red). This time I swear I saw a dove, a white dove, while Nauttiboy was using the claws. I have never seen a dove while bottoming before. Why a dove? Does this mean something? Nauttiboy has a lot of body art, and one of his tattoos is a peace sign. Maybe the peace sign translated into my head as a bird of peace–but he has many other tattoos and none of the others came to me in subspace.
I think that if I remember something from a dream, my subconscious mind is telling me something: Either I have to focus on something, be reminded of something, or change something. And I believe, although images in dreams can be symbols, they can also be quite literal at times. So if a white dove comes to me in subspace, I’ll accept that as “go in peace; be in peace. Yes, life is painful. But not always. It can also be quite joyful.”
Nauttiboy is a good friend of mine and I felt cared for throughout and after our scene. I doubt the subspace or the images would have occurred otherwise.
On Saturday night I had a related but yet quite different form of subspace. Rad and I were at the Wicked New York party run by Sir Master Jay. I played with a new Dom I’ve been getting to know, Master Chirality, and he used an implement that he had just had crafted for him by artist and author Dame Tyler. It is a six-foot-long staff that has a circumference of I’d say about six inches. It’s thick, long and solid (don’t say it … don’t say it …). It’s not just a stick, of course. It’s designed with scientific formulas and symbols, mostly from quantum physics, which this Dom has more than a passing interest in. (He’s been getting me to read about this, as well).
I offered to help Master Chirality “christen” his staff (that sounds really dirty) and he agreed. I figured it would be very thuddy, and I guessed that it might be a very pleasant sensation–that is, unless he swung it hard enough to break my knees. I took a leap of faith and figured that wouldn’t happen. He told me to bend over a table, one of those padded bondage benches with eyebolts lining the sides.
Before he began, he said he was going to do some energy work with me in addition to using the staff. He asked if that would be OK. Having no idea what he was planning on doing, I said yes–I couldn’t see any harm. What it turned out to be was a gentle stroking down my spine ending with a light tap at the base, near the sacrum. He said later he was working with my chakras. I don’t know how someone knows how to work with someone else’s chakras, or energy, for that matter, but it didn’t matter to me–it felt good. I was happy, very blissful. The staff’s impact was delicious. Master Chirality very slowly built up and increased the force and speed of its impact, taking breaks in between to do the chakra work again. A few of the later strokes were stingy, a little bit painful, as they struck my right upper thigh. But overall, it was not a painful scene. I was feeling endorphin or serotonin or whatever pleasure chemical was being released. As in the painful scene on Friday night, I saw light and color in my head. I saw the stars and at one point they morphed into a white daisy. Just one daisy, flashing briefly, like the dove I saw on Friday night.
I was not so fully gone into sub space that I was not aware of what was going on around me. I could hear bits and pieces of a conversation to my right, a guy and a girl talking. At one point I heard the girl say, “so, last year I died for the second time…” it nearly brought me out of the bliss, but I breathed deeply and stayed where I was. I felt suddenly that I was tilting forward, the sensation of tilting while being fully aware that my physical body was not moving.
Right after that, I became aware that one of the eyebolts was pressing into my groin. I hadn’t felt it earlier; I must have moved in closer to the bench during the scene. It was mildly annoying, a tiny bit painful, and I started to laugh about that and about the conversation I’d overheard. I don’t mean to make light of it; I’m sure she believed she had died and returned to life. But it seemed funny to hear at the time from a live person … in the middle of a dungeon. So I laughed. I felt so relaxed I didn’t care. The skeptic in me says a person can’t really mess with another person’s energy and make them feel differently. The little girl inside who still wants to believe in magic felt some crazy spell had just been worked on me.
I don’t know. I’ve never been all that good at relaxing and maybe all that happened was that I was able to let go. It doesn’t matter. It felt great. And I’m allowed to feel great.
I posted some pics on FetLife from the session I did on Sunday with my former Dom, Richard (Spike_NY on FetLife). And I wanted to share them here, as well. It is now Tuesday morning and I’m still processing the scene, and still buzzing a little bit from it.
Spike and I played very briefly at a party last weekend, but we hadn’t played privately since December, since we decided to call our D/s relationship quits. I know I haven’t talked that much about that, either, because I wasn’t ready to say much in public. Truth is, things are going well. We are still talking a lot, but no one’s pressuring anyone else. I think we are really morphing into a good friendship. My feelings of jealousy about his other play partner/sub are dissipating as well. I don’t have to share in public now, and it makes it so much easier. It wasn’t even sharing play that had bothered me, it was a feeling that my submission wasn’t special. Truth is, his other girl likes some kinds of play that I don’t enjoy, and vice versa.
I like pain, I like being pushed into taking pain. The clothespins on my inner thighs and labia hurt, but after the initial pinch they melded into a mild throbbing. It’s hard to tell from this pic, but he’d put me into a straight jacket and had put a leather hood over my head, which buckled securely on. He blindfolded me and then shoved a leather gag into my mouth.
I think my scream were pretty audible, even through the gag, when he began to whip my inner thighs and pussy. He was using this thing called a dragon’s tongue, which feels very much like a single tail (I had thought it was a single tail, until he told me later). The pain is very harsh, very much like the single tail whip. Maybe technically it’s wrong to call a dragon’s tail a “whip,” but I was, in effect, being whipped, on a very, very sensitive part of my anatomy.
I was already sore. Prior to this segment of our play date, he’d used a hairbrush and a bathbrush on my ass. Yes, yes, I’m “into” domestic discipline, I’m “into” spanking. As anyone who’s into spanking knows, the hairbrush alone can be one of the nastiest toys around. I personally find it harder to take than a caning. My brush was hard, polished wood, with a slightly convex surface, so that the point of impact is very very small and concentrated. When he switched to the bath brush the impact increased. That implement is thicker and has a longer handle to allow much harder strokes. Spike used it on me while I was making his bed (he likes me to do a few chores when I visit) and it felt brutal.
He laughed and says, “Don’t be a baby!” This is a phrase he’s used a lot in our play, so I actually made him a t-shirt with that saying on it — and he was wearing it on Sunday, to my amusement. My amusement had left the building, however, during the bath brushing. I know he doesn’t really think that I’m a baby. I can actually take quite a bit. I just don’t often take it quietly. I can’t say there’s ever been an occasion that I’ve taken a bath brushing quietly. I will yelp and twitch and eventually cry or scream if pushed hard and long enough. His was a tease, he pushed me just enough to have me jumping and crying out, but then let me focus on finishing up the bed.
The straightjacket, the clothespins, the dragon tail were what he’d planned as the main course. … um, oh, yeah, there was this little bit of knife play first. 
This was a sharp knife. He poked me with it a few times, inspiring some vocalizing on my part. I was already bound in position on the bed but had some mobility. I froze when I felt his fingers inside me, guiding it into my pussy. He told me later he only pushed it as far as his fingers could reach. Then he says, “Don’t move.” I was breathing softly. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do. He took a few pictures. (I appreciate that; it’s nice to have memories of intense scenes). I remember at the time thinking in my head, “I wish he would use the knife after he takes it out. I wish he would carve his initials, or maybe “Sir,” onto my stomach or thigh. I think a lot of things when I’m that floating subby place.
I’ll continue this shortly with more details about the whipping and what followed…
I’m not going to go into all the minutia but for those who didn’t know, my Dom and I have agreed to end our D/s relationship, for a variety of reasons. This happened a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been able to write about it till now.
In a general way, it was because our respective needs and desires were in conflict. And also because other relationships (my husband, my Dom’s other play partner) , made it hard for each of us to give the other person enough. I think in an ideal world a person can have multiple play partners or subs or Doms, but when individual personalities converge, it’s not so easy.
For one thing, my husband and my Dom could never be in the same place. There was tension between them. We tried, but we finally had to agree that my Dom would not attend spanking parties and that my husband, Rad, would not attend other scene parties that I attended with my Dom. This meant that if I wanted to go to an event, it would mean either less time with my husband or less time with my Dom. There were always conflicts. I always had to make decisions.
I didn’t come into the D/s relationship expecting it to be romantic, although I think a Dom/sub connection always is a bit romantic and a bit sexual. When your fantasies involve pain, you do not need to be sexual for it to be sexual. Which isn’t to say we weren’t. It involved some romance, some sexuality, some friendship, some pain, some loss of control.
And as wonderful giving up control can feel, the power exchange also left me feeling anxious, insecure and vulnerable when things didn’t go as planned. When he started dating someone new last February, right when I was starting to feel very close to him, it hurt. A lot of his attention was suddenly elsewhere and I had to struggle with my jealousies. He was single and wanted to date–I had no right to tell him not to; I had to accept it. I did the best I could. But I won’t lie and say I was sad when the relationship ended. I now felt I had his attention back and things DID start getting pretty good over the next several months.
Through everything, I wanted to feel special. I wanted to feel that my submission was special. When he started playing with another sub a few months ago, I no longer felt special. I struggled with my jealousy, I struggled with our intimacy, I also struggled with the feeling that I wasn’t being told all the details. At public events I suddenly had to be part of a matching set. Often if he touched me, he touched her. If he put his arm around her, he put his arm around me. I didn’t like it. I never was given the opportunity to get to know her; it happened so fast. It felt as if they already knew each other pretty well and I would have to try to catch up. I never knew what to say at that point. “How’s it going with the submission?” “Does he _____ your ____, too?” “How do you like it when he does ____?” Anything along those lines seemed really awkward.
Along with all those feelings was the feeling that I wasn’t being a good sub when I got jealous. But I was a good sub. I was obedient, I followed protocols, I tried to accept whatever pain he wanted me to submit to. But I couldn’t deal with the idea of submitting in front of her, or watching her submit in front of me, possibly taking more than I could take. I found out that she enjoyed a particular type of play that I had trouble handling. On the one hand, it was sort of a relief that I didn’t have to try to accept this type of pain anymore. On the other hand, I was pretty sure that he did the same things to her that he did to me, PLUS this type of play, so I felt she had an advantage. He would tell me I was still number one, but I no longer felt that way.
There were a few other things that happened, which I can’t go into detail about on my blog, and I finally decided I had to stop. It was getting too painful.
I am left feeling a little lost. I really enjoyed following his orders and the rituals and the protocols, and we usually had a great time together. I’m not saying I HAVE to be the only sub in a relationship, I just don’t know to do it. I know some people can handle being one of several subs quite well. Maybe things should have happened differently. Maybe if I’d known more up front it would have been easier. Who knows? Maybe my next Dom will have to be a married man–whose wife either knows or is in the scene–so there isn’t so much of an emotional/romantic feel to things. But I’m not looking right now; I’m only scheduling play dates here and there.
Upcoming appearances
April 18-21, 2013: Boardwalk Badness Weekend, Atlantic City
July 25-28, 2013: Crimson Moon's 20th Anniversary Summer Spanktacular!
