Picture You

 Do you picture me like I picture you?

Am I in the frame from your point of view?

Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say

Half of the things I do when I picture you

So tell me now (tell me now)

All your perversions

Am I doing research in a mini skirt

At the library in your hometown?

https://youtu.be/EqUHnojFH5Y?t=2

All of my blogs are titled with Chappell Roan songs lately, because of... reasons.   The slow, leisurely, seductive pace of this song perfectly fits my mood today.  

I had a hard time getting out of bed and getting going this morning. I have been pushing myself to do too many things lately.  The gym. Marches. Community organization meetings.  Work. Driving to Eau Claire in a snowstorm. 

 I made it to Sad Friends Happy Hour group a little bit late, looking "out of it" and feeling worse.

   

Then I had lunch with Dr. Peter.  He asked me if I wanted to eat first or play and I said either way was fine.  He said he'd very much looked forward to beating me.  And in fact a new implement had just arrived in the mail minutes before I got there, a beautiful dark leather custom made paddle from a craftsman in the UK.   It turned out to be like a shot of liquor- stiff and warming.  

All the other implements were laid out just waiting for me and I began to be excited as I threw off my clothes (so modest- not really!).  I knelt on the couch.   I very much liked the leather paddle.  It felt different than the older tan one which is softer, thinner and more flexible.   After I was good and warmed up with both leather paddles he switched to canes, laying down some marks on my upper thighs which are still visible.  He went lighter and harder with various implements in a pleasing sine curve of sensations.  Heavy flogger, light flogger, light caning, heavy caning with the Australian school cane, the stingy cat o nine tails and the even more stingy single tail whip.   

Afterward we laid down for a long time, just relaxing. I gave him a massage.  I was feeling very lazy and sleepy and pleasant. 

Lunch was absolutely delicious:  Sambar, dosas (like a pancake, sorta), Kerala mix (crunchy-spicy) and coconut chutney and vegetable dal curry (I think it had a name but I forget).   And of course spiced tea with milk.    

All the way home and through a quick trip to the store I was floating in a cloud of pleasant feelings.   All the good brain chemicals were mine to enjoy.  And I still have some stripes to look at in the mirror.  Now it's time to have another cup of something warm and lie under a blanket.  Perhaps a nap.

Red Wine Supernova

Another song has been been bringing back memories for me.  This is a post from 2013, slightly re-written because I couldn't help it.   

https://youtu.be/WOg93THAyE0?t=13   I recommend putting this song on before reading further.  

 "You should let her bite you"  Mystique declared, as she opened the hotel room door for her friend, Ms. J.  

Master nodded at me.  I sat on the bed and this beautiful woman, a stranger with long, dark wavy hair, pulled a chair up close to me.  All I could see were her eyes as she drew me in.  My heart beat faster and my eyes widened as she stroked my hair.   

We were balanced in a moment of excitement and strange tranquility. 

Her hand found the back of my head.   With practiced grace she tightened her hand in my hair.  My breath caught as she pulled my head firmly to the side to expose the side of my neck.  I was inflamed by desire.   She leaned in, her eyelids lowering, and took hold of the top of my shoulder with her teeth.  She bit down hard and just as I began to wince her hand tightened and gave a slight shake hand holding the hair at the nape of my neck, refocusing my attention and taking away some of the pain.

Mystique told her I would come on command to the name of a state. 

 Ms. J began naming states seductively in my ear.  "Wyoming.  Utah.  Alaska".   Imagine a breathy phone sex voice, full of temptation, promise.

I gave her a hint, not quite daring to give it away, but wanting to hear it.

 "It is one close to us.  In the Midwest". 

"Ohio.  Indiana.  Minnesota"..................

Then, as if she had known the right one all along, her voice grew stronger, commanding, but still a whisper in my ear: 

"Iowa." 

 I bucked and rocked in ecstasy; her hand was still in my hair.  Then she repeated the whole thing on the other side, leaving two matching bitemarks on me.  

When I had recovered my senses I smiled and introduced myself to her. 

Some women know how to make a first impression.  

The Pink Pony Club

 In the past day I have become obsessed with this song:  https://youtu.be/GR3Liudev18

I can't stop listening to it, and when I do have to stop listening to it, because I'm walking into work, it floats around in my head, I'm gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club.

When something drills in that hard and fast it's trying to unearth some things.  At least that is what I suspect.  Right in the middle of the song, on my 51st (or so) listen, I started crying.  All the memories of the leather bars at Tryst had been flooding back while watching the video.   It was exactly like that, although we were in the woods of Wisconsin or Michigan, not West Hollywood.  They did a good job of creating the atmosphere.  I had to go back and read some of my blog entries of those times and soak in them.   I will link them here, because they were somewhat hard to find.   

Nipple Torture Scene at a Leather Bar  2016

Dirty, Dirty Girl  2016

There are only certain memories I dare to revisit right now.  You probably won't notice First Choice Cunt in there, and that's for a reason.  My heart is tender and I'm not ready to go there. 

This one was only the final third of a really long post, so I'm just going to copy the whole thing in here:  

2015 Leather Bar

We almost didn't go.  I was tired, uncomfortable, whiny and getting on Master's nerves; he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with cigar smoke.   We sucked it up and went. 

Missing it would have been a huge mistake.

The leather bar was huge this year, made of canvas and lights and pvc, but transformed into a hot and sexy magical space.  Also, we were visited there by the Scotch fairy.  I bet you didn't know there was a Scotch fairy.   She's a fairy... that brings you Scotch.  So, Yay! 

We met PK there, and did a quick negotiation for a scene that we'd be talking about in vague terms since before Tryst. Master told me I should speak for myself this time.   I thought right then and there would be the perfect time and place to do it.  He threw me to the ground, in the gravel and dirt outside the leather bar, surrounded by crowds of people, and began slapping and hurting me.  It was intense, and hot, and violent.  Then he began pinching and twisting my breasts.  It hurt so bad I tried to push his hands off, which didn't work at all.  I was on the ground, and he was over me.  A wave of primal fear and anger swept over me, caused by the pain.  I had the impulse to hurt him back, to do anything to try to escape from that pain. It was in my awareness that my fingernails are almost 1/4 inch long and tough enough to be used as screwdrivers in a pinch.  I could just dig them in...then it flashed into my mind just as quickly that this would be a stupid thing to do.  This is what your safeword is for, dummy.  I said RED as clearly as I could, and he stopped.  Master also heard me in the midst of the crowd noises and came to see what was wrong.  I could not explain what was wrong, so I just lay on the ground trying to catch my breath.  I wasn't sure I could continue, but I also wasn't sure I wanted to stop, so I just waited.

Eventually they helped me up and we talked again.  The boob torture placed off limits for now, we started up again.  I loved the face slapping, and other places slapping, and being thrown all about.  And having my butt punched as I bent over a chair.   Then there were big hugs all around and I went off  feeling a certain smiley glow.  

 We entered the leather bar proper.  And the backroom, where there was a big sign saying "Entrance here means consent".   

Master and I did stuff together.  Naughty backroom stuff. It was fun.

I was wearing my thigh high boots, and was at the bootblack station in time to witness an incredibly powerful moving occurrence there.   I waited in line, as WM had invited me to have my boots done, and they are new but they had gotten a little scuffed and dirty when I was thrown around in the gravel.  It was really wonderful, comparable to a leg massage, and she is so damn sexy all the time anyway.  But then her owner/master/husband (Travis) told her to put the conditioner on with her tongue.  The conditioner is non-toxic, mainly beeswax (as I learned in class earlier).  She started licking it on and it was even more amazing, sensual, almost sexual.  Which was not something I would have ever imagined feeling.  Anyway, I need Master to get some leather boots now so I can learn this. 

After that, we stopped by the sex swing for some fucking, then back to the tent for more fucking.  

And that's the end.  I didn't bring in the field trip to the Mr. Leather contest, or any of the other wild things.  

But when I was going through the Tryst entries I found 

The Hunger Games

It's hard now looking back on it, to believe that was something we did, something they pulled off and everyone had a great (or painfully bad, as the case may be) time.  If you've read the Hunger Games, just imagine trying to organize it in real life with a bunch of BDSM lovers, and of course nobody gets killed.  

Made a new friend

 This friend has nine tails and is a cat that doesn't meow:   

I visited Dr. Peter's for lunch and this surprise was waiting for me.  Before any eating, first comes the beating.   We have decided to make it more of a regular event instead of just occasionally, so we have been getting together every month.   I didn't write a blog last time, but then people were asking and I need to please, evidently.  

We got straight into the fun, with me stripping off everything but my socks (I like to have warm feet, you know) and kneeling on the couch facing the wall.  We had a little chat during the warm up of my back, about the implements and about various friends and how they are doing.  Maybe not traditional, but whatever works.  The Smoked Dragon Cane has a name full of mystique, and now I can't remember what it looks like, but I imagine it looks like a dark swirly marble, only wooden.   I had my back to it and also my glasses off and mostly my eyes closed.  But for the Australian school cane, Dr. Peter had me turn around and look at it after a few strikes.  It's a massive thick thing, with a beautiful braided leather handle.  It feels... like a thick heavy cane.  How do you describe the feeling to someone who hasn't experienced it?  The Smoked Dragon is lighter and a bit stingy.  A bit of fire.  The Australian Cane hits you like the weight of a demanding teacher's expectation.   

He also brought the Cat O Nine Tails (we counted to make sure) around for me to admire and I already started falling for it, before feeling it, if one can fall for an implement of pain.  I love leather, I love whips and I loved the craftsmanship that was stamped all over this one. 

He started out whipping me with it lightly, getting me used to the feel, and I was really enjoying falling into the trance of the rhythm, but I kind of wanted it harder, and I was about to say "You can go harder" when he really started to ramp it up and then I was past trance level and getting into euphoria territory.   Come on baby, make it hurt so good, my theme song of the day.   When I started to shift and move and yelp he had me turn around, seated on the couch and he used a much softer implement, a flogger, on my front side.   

Then he asked me to use the toy I brought (glass dildo, many ribs) on myself.  I started out doing well, but after a while I was feeling not as pleasurable.  I just couldn't do myself by myself.   So he helped me get there. And there again.  And a bunch of multiple there's all run together. 

It was quite the afternoon!    Maybe February is the Month of Joy after all.  

Have Yourself a Slutty Little Christmas

 Overall, I have been doing kind of badly, in terms of mood and getting anything accomplished beyond the bare minimum.  For a start, I came back from my family Thanksgiving trip sick and was dragging with low energy from that.  There is so much darkness this time of year, and so much darkness in politics and the news.  I've really been missing my Master, and thinking about playing and sex and thinking about doing something about that thought but then not actually calling anyone or seeking out play in any way. 

 Like it's just going to fall in my lap, as a surprise, right?  

Tuesday night was extremely nice.  I have joined a knitting club,  or a loose (not that kind of loose) association of crafters, anyway.  Mostly women, but not all women.  Tuesday was the regular get together but also the Christmas party, so first we went to a bar (don't all knitting groups start this way? maybe only in Wisconsin).  I had the best drink, which I highly recommend, although I do not know how to make it.  It's called Spanish coffee and it's salty and sweet and alcohol laden, and creamy and beautiful. The ribbons of cream float down the clear glass through the coffee like diaphanous jellyfish tendrils.   Also it involved fireballs in the glass because we were at a fancy place.   

And then at knitting people brought samosas and cookies and strawberries.  Another person played Christmas songs on a violin and we all sang along as best we could.  And we knitted.  It was thoroughly enjoyable and cozy.  

Today I had my grief meeting, and then we had planned a group sauna a couple hours later.  It was snowing and I didn't want to drive all the home and back, and I needed lunch.  I didn't feel like eating in my car alone, so I called Dr. Peter, who lives near there, thinking he was probably busy, but he wasn't and he did want to eat with me, so I picked up some food and took it to his house.   As we ate we talked about playing, and he suggested we could do it right away!  I thought for about one millisecond and then knew that was exactly what I wanted. Surprise!

He has an all new house, moved into not that long ago, so finding the implements was the first thing, while I undressed in the basement.  It was warm compared to most basements, and quite cozy with thick rugs and many bookshelves.  While I was waiting I perused the titles on the shelves, which is one of my favorite things to do at a book lovers house.  When he located the bags of canes, he had me kneel on a towel on the couch and he warmed me up with the floggers.  The first one was soft and friendly, and the second one was heavy and thuddy and began to heat me up. 

He stepped away and then stroked my back lightly and sensually with a cane, bringing a delicious anticip...

...

ATION!  

the cane strike was familiar and yet so long ago I was almost starting to forget the feeling.  It had been months, years, whatever, a very long time.  The whippy little one to the whangee to the thuddy Australian it was all wonderful.  

Afterward we went up to bed and got under the covers, and I gave him some pleasure too.  It was so nice and cuddly I didn't want to get up for a long time.  It was past time that I was supposed to be in the sauna so I did bolt for my clothes and zip away in an undignified way when I realized the time (and with a very inappropriate number of good byes for Wisconsin- we normally require 10 minutes of good byes at least).   But I felt bad leaving people waiting for me.   

The sauna was great, with the snow outside it was made even better being so warm and roasty in the little building.  We kept going in and out, getting cold in the snow and back to the heat.  My head was really buzzing by then.  With the play, and then the heat, I felt quite "high"- although I didn't take any drugs I felt like I had.  I assume it was the endorphins.  

So, all in all it was an extremely good day and I'm feeling a lot more like Merry (Slutty) Christmas to everyone!  

It's been three years

 It's been three years, which seems both like a lifetime and a blink of an eye.  I still feel the heavy weight of the unfairness that a wonderful, intelligent, generous, fun, funny person like my Master is gone from the world forever.  

I desperately miss sex and BDSM and BDSM involved sex.  It's not that I've had nothing in the past three years, it's that while I have had a few playdates they have been very few and far between.  By which I mean I can count them on one hand.  I feel very self centered even saying that.  But I miss just falling into bed on a whim and doing... whatever he had in mind.   

I have found an in person grief group which I really vibe with.  The first one I tried was in a church and it was just way too churchy.  I felt like I would be very judged there if I opened up too much.  I guess I have enough secrets that I feel like most people would be able to judge me quite harshly and this makes me afraid of saying the wrong thing, which then makes me afraid of saying anything.   

The new grief group is very small, all lean to the left politically and are open minded about sexualities and genders.  I still have a lot of secrets from them even though in some ways I do let my guard down and share.  I feel like I am constantly on the verge of sharing way too much which I then could not take back and then they would dislike me.  However, some of them have shared even more than me and I still like them. 

Overthinkers Anon. anyone?  

 Most of them are married/ have a significant other still.  Which makes me slightly alone in a way.  But I really, really like the group.  We meet every week, and also have a book club that meets monthly.  And now a private online group called Sad Friends, which is a joke because one of the members introduced the others as "these are my sad friends" which her wife hated and then it became a goofy thing to us to say we are the sad friends.   We laugh way more than most grief groups.  It's one way to cope.  

 

. You Never Know When They Will Catch Up To You

 I just made what would have been a hilarious joke on social media, if only the one other person who would get it would have been around to read it.  

There was a time, long ago, when Master and I were only dating, around a millenium ago, and we were shopping for some fruit. I  was saying something about how I really only like perfect fruit and sometimes it's just bland but you don't know until you bring it home and then it's too late. 

  And he said "Oh, well, let's just taste these blueberries and then we'll know."  He opened up one of the blueberry packets and took out a couple and ate them.  I was horrified and said in a mock-whisper "Oh no, they are going to get you now!" and he said "Who? The blueberry police?" and that started a fit of giggles that went with us through the whole store until check out.  They never stop. They always get you in the end.  Yes, the blueberry police are still after us! And they have continued to be after us ever since.  Only Master has outwitted them.  But I was an accomplice and thus just as guilty.