Queen of...

Talked to Vinnie last night, long-distance for now. Words cannot adequately express how happy we both are that he's moving back up here to live with me (and by extension, Jay - but mostly with me).

See, Vinnie is my Primary Fag. He knows this. I know this. I am Queen of the Fag Hags, because I know and befriend gay men like it's going out of style, and Vinnie is my First Knight of Gay Men.

I'm sure most of you have heard the expression "a gay man is a woman's best friend", and gods, it's true. I usually befriend men easier than women anyway, but gay men are better than straight men for a few reasons: they like cock as much as I do, we can discuss men's asses and no one gets uncomfortable, and they understand my obsession with Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Payless Shoe Store, Williams-Sonoma, and Yankee Candle, among others. On the rare occasions I have to explain why I want to buy something, they comprehend quickly. I love Jay, but sometimes he just doesn't understand why I need that specific pair of black high heels with the ankle straps, when I have a perfectly serviceable pair of black classic pumps, even if I try to explain for two hours straight. Vinnie, on the other hand, when we found that they weren't in stock at my usual shoe store, immediately asked for directions to the store that had them and whipped out the keys. How could a girl not love him?

Vinnie's probably the closest out of my three closest friends right now. I talk to him the most often, and we talk about a wider variety of things than many others. I've had hints in the past that he knows a bit more about kink and BDSM than most would expect, and last night I got a definite indicator.

M, his new boyfriend - who is also a friend of Jay and myself - is staying with him this week, to escape the boring condemnation of living with his family for the summer before he goes back to college in the fall. Vinnie of course is giddy, and after we'd discussed his plans for the impending move I got to hear all about how wonderful M is, and how much fabulous sex they have, and how cute M looks in a collar, and how he needs to learn that when Vinnie pulls on the collar, his head has to follow.

Oh, well hello.

I laughed and offered to have a talk with M about that, to which Vinnie replied "that sounds like a pretty good idea." I get the impression that he thinks I'm the top, like he is. Little does he know, mwahahaha. Sure, I switch. Sometimes. About once for every six times that I'm the submissive. Maybe.

Anyway, for the rest of the conversation I had a little thought process in the back of my mind that was saying "Hmm, M just came out of the closet... he and Vinnie have been dating for about a week - although talked extensively before that - I assume he lost his virginity to Vinnie... does he really know what he's getting in to?"

Then I reminded myself that a collar means one thing to some people, but it doesn't mean it to all people - didn't I just write a huge thing about that? Oh wait, I did. Plus, M is above the age of consent and I have to admit, he's no slouch in the intellect department. I have to assume that everything they do is completely consensual, just from knowing the parties in question. It'll be fun to watch when they're both up here though!

So now I feel like I have this great responsibility to explain the world of BDSM to M when I talk to him later this week. I'm a little bit tweaked; I don't know what, if anything, I should explain about D/s, if I should just explain the BD aspect of it, the play aspect... I just don't know. I suppose I'll do what I usually do, which is play it by ear, and listen to what he says about it first, and then just answer whatever questions he might have. That way I don't overwhelm the poor boy, and he finds out what he really wants (and, perhaps, needs) to know.

I do have a reputation among the group of friends from which M hails as being particularly knowledgeable about, shall we say, "alternative sexual practices". None of them, though, have had any solid indicators about the status of my relationship with Jay - except that we've been together for four years and most of the time are pretty damned delirious about each other. I've jokingly called him "sir" in public before, but it was obviously a joke, given our expressions and the context. Otherwise, we're as vanilla as Madagascar beans.

My problem, then, is two-fold: what do I say to M (if anything), and do I really want to come out of the kink closet? I know for sure I don't want my parents, or anyone from my hometown knowing. But my friends and associates out here are a bit more cosmopolitan, and more likely to take such revelations in stride. To my knowledge, M's revelation didn't faze any of them - mostly because the majority of us knew anyway, so it wasn't a surprise. This, I think, would be a surprise to most of them, Vinnie probably excluded. I'm just not sure how they'd take it.

Sure, sure, "if they're really your friends", and I do consider them that. It's just easier to keep my mouth shut and not disturb the pond when I don't have to - not make demands on the friendship unless it's necessary.

The subject will probably come up in this apartment anyway, given who is going to be living here. I guess this is just one of those things I'll have to deal with when it comes up. Joy.

Courage and wit have served thee well

Oh gods, I've been playing so much Dragon Warrior lately. For those of you who don't have fond memories of the hours and hours you spent leveling up in this game, it's one of the first role-playing games to come out on the original NES. It also happens to be one of the games I owned as a kid, and yes, I spent hours and hours and hours fighting drakees, warlocks, rogue scorpions, and goldmen, trying to eventually get the Dragonlord. Now I've got a copy to play on the computer, and I'm wearing out the keys. Nintendo was the system I grew up on - I don't so much deal well with things like the Playstation and its ilk.

I tried to play some Playstation game. Once. The session ended in about four minutes, with me flinging the controller down to the ground and stalking off in a murderous rage. Since then, I've been sticking with what I know, and that's Nintendo and to a lesser extent, the Sega Genesis. And Dragon Warrior. Lots, and lots of Dragon Warrior.

I did take a brief break to check my email though, and something caught my eye. It's a D/s discussion list, so the notion of collars came up. A Master on the list mentioned that to him, 24/7 literally means 24/7, so there is no "off" time, no time when the collar is not on and the slave is not in the proper mindset. That prompted a remark from someone else saying, essentially, that the collar is a mindset, and that it wasn't necessary to have the physical collar on to have the mindset that went with it.

Now obviously, collars aren't universal. Not everyone uses them, not everyone attaches any sort of significance to them. But I've noticed that the ideal, if you will, of a "collared slave" is fairly common, especially among fulltime D/s people - who make up the majority of this list, by the by.

A part of me is uncomfortable with the entire discussion really, because it makes it so obvious that I am not like the others. It makes me almost feel as if I don't belong, but I've grown enough to know that's just remnant insecurity talking. At the same time, it makes me glad that J and I own a pair.

See, I do need the collar to get the mindset. I've submitted without it; we didn't buy a collar until about eight months ago, after all. But comparing times with and times without, the times with I seem to recall being much further into the submissive mindset, much more subservient and obedient, and for much longer.

What can I say, it's a very powerful image, a very powerful symbol of submission. It's helpful and comforting to have a physical reminder of the state I'm in - the state I've agreed to be in. It says to me, more than anything else at this point, that I am J's to do with as he wishes.

I'm not brave enough to wear it out in public. I got uneasy in the kitchen, knowing that there were no curtains on the windows yet and the neighbors might see it (at least until I decided I didn't give a fuck, which wasn't until Sunday). But I am willing to wear it for him. I am willing to use it to help me enter that space in my head where I'm his, and to give me the strength to accept that gracefully, instead of kicking and screaming. And since it's not practical for me to be in a submissive mode all the time - really, I don't even want to think about how people at work would react to me going from in charge to subservient - I'm going to keep it that way. The collar is a symbol and physical reminder to me not only that I'm submissive, but that it's a safe time and place for me to be so. And when it's off, it's time for me to be independent and strong-willed again. Kind of like how some people will wear heels all day at work, but when they get home, they immediately put on houseslippers. It's a physical reminder that the time, place, and their attitude have changed.

And that means that I don't always consider myself J's submissive. There are specific times when I am, but it is by no means all the time. I am, however, always his.

A month after we started dating, I bought myself a small silver moonstone ring. I've worn it every single day that we've been together. It's a reminder to me of him, even when he's not around, and it's handy to slip on my ring finger in bars and scare other guys off. It's a physical reminder of our relationship.

It's a symbol, just as much as a collar. The ring says that he belongs to me, and I to him. The collar says that i belong to Him, and He to me. Hopefully one day I'll be able to show both of those to the rest of the world.

The water's fine

I'm not quite done mentally processing this weekend, but I don't think I will be until I force myself to think coherently enough about it to write.

So I spent this weekend in a collar.

As I'd mentioned earlier, J and I wanted for me to spend a weekend in submission. After my entry late Friday night/very early Saturday morning, I went to bed, waking J up accidentally in the process. Since he'd already been sleeping for six hours at that point, and the next day wasn't a work day, I didn't feel too guilty. I brought up the subject of the weekend again.

For a few hours, we danced around the subject and each other. What I really wanted out of the discussion was contract terms, although I was loathe to actually write anything down. It smacked a little too much of permanence. I poked and prodded until eventually I got him to tell me what he was expecting out of me for the weekend.

The list was short, which was how, frankly, I wanted it. I'm an independence junkie; quitting cold turkey would just lead me into some very ugly withdrawal territory. The list wound up as follows:

• I'd be naked at all times, except when we were out of the house or I was in the kitchen cooking.
  
• I would be wearing the collar at all times, except when we were out of the house.
  
• I had to ask permission to eat or to orgasm. (J wanted me to ask for everything, but I vetoed that; I'd just get ridiculously pissed off if I had to do that at this point.)
  
• I had to follow orders without any backtalk.
  
• No tickling, picking at, or teasing of J for the weekend. (Difficult, as he's extremely ticklish, and I enjoy taking advantage of this fact.)

Since we've already discussed limits and all that, and from past experience have a pretty good idea of what we both enjoy, we didn't bother rehashing that. We'd also decided against my calling him "Sir" or "Master" all weekend, because I couldn't stop giggling when he just brought it up. We figured giggling would sort of ruin the mood.

After the discussion of terms, J looked at me, then got up and got the collar. We have two - he grabbed the lockable one, and locked it on. One of the keys is on my keyring, and the other we keep in my jewelry box. I am happy to say that I was only once tempted to take it and unlock myself, and that was Saturday night because it was 90 and humid and sweat is uncomfortable when the breeze can't get to it because there's leather in the way.

I put him back to sleep Friday night with a blowjob - after he'd grabbed the ring in the collar and brought my head down to his cock. Giving him blowjobs turns me on anyway, and being led around by a collar and eventually facefucked just increases the arousal factor. I got to go to sleep very horny and unfulfilled, and woke up in the same manner.

I usually keep my pussy completely shaved, but J had requested that I didn't touch it up before the weekend, because he wanted to shave it himself. After he'd done so, he grabbed the ben-wa balls on a string and a butt plug, as well as some rope. Then we walked down to the drugstore to pick up some pictures I needed for the apartment condition report. That was... interesting. I had a great moment in the store, though. I got caught in a conversation with the store clerk and an older woman who was in line behind me, about the heat and humidity, and as I was talking with them I had this little awareness in the back of my head that I had a rope around my waist and through my crotch, and it was holding things in that would likely give them extreme pause. I was considerably more cheerful in the store than I usually am out in public.

After we got home, I got left in the rope and toys for a while. That was fine; I sat in the living room with my laptop and amused myself. J came and got me when he wanted to play more though. I got untied from what I was in, then had my hands tied together and to the bedframe as I was on all fours. I will say here that I absolutely love the rope flogger. Partly because I am proud that I made it, and partly because it is, for me, a fabulous instrument. It is all thud, and I love thud like I love cock. I zoned out and just enjoyed getting worked over.

After warming me up, J got out our version of a cane - the little rod you use to adjust the angle of blinds. You know the kind, about 2.5 feet long and made of plastic. Hey, we're poor and it was free, and there weren't any little metal bits in it. Me, I could live without it. Canes are stingy, even when it's not the tip that's hitting your ass. Stingy hurts, and I am not by any stretch of the imagination a pain slut. Maybe he thought I was getting too relaxed and enjoying myself too much. I can deal with taps from the middle of the cane nearly anywhere, but if the tip makes contact, yowch. I made my discomfort known, not that it did me too much good. It wasn't to the point where I'd even considered using my safeword, but it did hurt - enough to make me screech and hiss.

We eventually progessed to other things, but the session ended with me on my back, legs tied spread apart, and gagged, and J had a bottle of lube in one hand and a latex glove on the other. Let me also say that I really love my g-spot. I also enjoyed that J did not give me permission to orgasm the first time I asked (begged), as he has in the past. I actually had to wait this time, which reinforced that I was not in charge, which just pushed me closer.

After an orgasm that made me look like an epileptic, J informed my now incapable-of-speech self that he wasn't done with me. I responded by passing the fuck out. He wisely decided to let me stay that way, because a post-orgasmic passing out is not something I am easily woken from.

After I woke back up about an hour later and cooked us dinner, I again got the pleasure of putting him to sleep with a blowjob. We both slept until nearly five this evening, and had french toast for breakfast/dinner at about 7. That's because we're mature responsible adults.

Overall, it really was a good weekend. I enjoyed the fact that J stepped it up and actually smacked me on the hand or ass when I acted up, which I did a few times as much out of habit as anything else. And while I didn't completely give up my freedom, the fact that I had a collar locked on all weekend was a pleasant reminder that I wasn't completely my own person either, however temporarily. I'm relieved to know that I can spend more than a few hours in a submissive state without freaking. I only once refused to do something, and that was do jumping-jacks with the balls and plug in. I'm, shall we say, the owner of "great tracts of land", and jumping-jacks even with a bra are dangerous and painful. For the rest of the weekend though, I had this nearly Zen-like peace about me, that it didn't matter what J was going to do to me, it was going to happen regardless and it was what he wished. More importantly, it was my role to comply with those wishes, and take it as gracefully as I could, knowing full well that he wasn't going to dish out anything I couldn't handle.

I wouldn't mind continuing with the collar, but I think it's a good idea that we stopped on Sunday night. Now we can take a step back evaluate, etc. I'm already thinking that for next time I'd like a few more restrictions placed on me, like not having as much free time to myself. I'd also like to go for longer than 48 hours. Now that I know J and I can do it, that fear is gone.

Word of the day: Tetchy

Thanks to unemployment, my sleep schedule is slowly but surely falling back into its natural state - that is, me falling asleep at 7 in the morning, and getting up at 2 in the afternoon, without even needing an alarm. Good thing that interview I was supposed to have today got rescheduled, because I didn't get to sleep until nearly 6.

Since it was rescheduled, I went back to sleep this afternoon, waking up shortly before J got home from work. We sleep naked, so since I hadn't even really gotten up at all today, I was still in that state. I was standing in the hallway when he got home, looking tired and forlorn, wrapped in a towel. He was his bouncy six-year-old self when he got home today. That grated a bit.

I crawled back into bed and was reading my copy of The Women's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets. It's fascinating and thought-provoking, but something I learned in high school was that everything has a spin on it.

It does have an agenda, if you will; it's blatantly feminist and rather anti-Church and patriarchy, but in a somewhat subtle and rational way. The Church, in any of its incarnations, is fallible, and has made some serious fuckups. It's also hypocritical, oppressive, and just flat out full of fucking assholes. But so's the rest of the world. I am tempted, however, to write to various Catholic and Protestant leaders who are up in arms about gay marriage and shrieking that "from time immemorial, marriage has been between one man and one woman and that's how God decreed it and it's sacred" about how their own church used to preach that celebacy was the way to go, and didn't even recognize marriage as anything but an abomination until fairly recently it its history. Funny that.

Obviously there's a lot in the book about matriarchal societies, how the Goddess was around first, usurpation of Pagan rituals for the church's benefit, etc. and so on. I like matriarchy; my mother's side of the family pretty much is one. Sure, there's more guys than women, but if you're around us much, you'll notice a pretty clear pecking order, and it starts with my grandma. The men are all well and good, and we love them, and they're great at supporting us and being there, but really, the buck stops with the women - my grandma, my mom (as the only daughter), to a lesser degree my aunts. They're the ones raising the kids, picking the house and furnishings, cooking the dinners, cleaning the house, painting the walls and fixing stuff, taking care of everyone else, and most of the important family belongings and valuables are passed down via the women. I am cast from the exact same mold as my mom and grandma. I look like them, I act like them, I even sound like them (my mom especially; people often can't tell us apart on the phone), and in the family, I have the same sort of authority as them, albeit on a greatly diminished scale for now.

So after reading the entries on marriage, motherhood, sex, and so on, and reflecting upon my background, I'm trying to reconcile my desire for submission with my upbringing as a matriarch-in-training. It's making me, quite frankly, tetchy. Being conflicted about what one is and what one wants to do is not pleasant. J's not helping either. When I get this way, I get a bit snappy, and tend to tell him what to do, and dammit, the dipshit just does it. So far I've made him fetch me snacks, refill my water bottle, and ordered him to stay the hell away from me right now. To me, this rather defeats the purpose of his proposed activities for the weekend. Maybe it's just a character defect, but I find it difficult to submit to someone who takes orders from me without question or hesitation.

But dammit, everyone else does! I'm one of those people blessed (cursed?) with physical presence - I'm not a small person, in any sense of the word. And, when I give flat-out orders, people tend to follow them. Even in my sorority, my unofficial name is "matriarch" - as much for the amount of littles I have as the way I act. I don't believe that it's really too much to ask that at least in one aspect of my life, I'm not in charge. I'd really like a man that's able to keep up with me - not completely conquer me, and subjugate me, because I need my independence, but who can be stronger than me and, when needed, take me in hand.

And to tie that into the feminist and matriarchal angle, I don't think that really goes against any of those principles - despite the spin of the Women's Encyclopedia, which tends to put most aspects of BDSM on a level with patriarchy and suppression of women. I think a woman can be strong, the archetypal "house-goddess", and still have a strong male consort. I think that having a strong, even, dare I say it, dominant male as a provider and protector of the female goes hand-in-hand with reverence for her and her abilities - especially if it's by her choice. And I think that serving and taking care of a man fits right in with the "traditional" role of women as care-takers and mothers. I'm confident enough in my abilities to be able to admit that taking care of people makes me happy, regardless of how undervalued that capacity of women is lately.

If every goddess has her consort - who, by most accounts, weren't wimps - then dammit, I want mine.

Hooray! Blogrolling is fixed. And mine has new links for everyone to enjoy. I am starting to seriously agree with Invidia that there are so god-damned many good blogs out there, I am not sure how I will keep up.

'course, I have lots of spare time lately, so maybe this will be less of a problem than I think.

Out of control

Not only was Blogrolling.com down earlier today, they decided to delete my Blogroll. Awesome. Because, you know, I hadn't spent a non-trivial amount of time getting it set up in the first place. Jerks. And it's not letting me recreate it either. According to News, there was a security vulnerability yesterday, and some "unknown problem" today. Awesome.

But back to happier thoughts.

Heard back from one of the more sentient replyers to my medical fetish email of last week. I'd sent him back a note saying that he sounded interesting and may be able to give me what I want, but since he would have to travel, rather than have him come out here, I was curious if he could further describe some things he mentioned in his email - procedures, equipment and the like.

He emailed me back and said "Your response is very unusual. Whenever I contact someone about this, they generally respond in a completely different manner. Do you just like reading about this sort of thing, or do you actually want an exam?"

Weeeeellll... yes and no. I certainly do enjoy reading about these things - and I wish Literotica had more of it. It's great fantasy material.

At the same time, since I do want to go through with an actual exam - whether by J or someone else, that remains to be seen - I'm a bit frightened of that. Since in most cases, fear comes from lack of knowledge, I'm trying to go about getting more knowledge. If I know what's going to happen, I can work on not being scared of it. So, we're back to reading.

I do want to go through with it though - like I said, whether with J or someone else, that remains to be seen. We don't exactly have access to some of the more "realistic" equipment, and that's a pretty serious portion of the fantasy. At the same time, I don't want to do it with anyone else, because dammit, I like J (love).

If I don't manage to come clean about this in the next few days, it won't be an issue anymore. I've noticed that my fixations and fetishes run in cycles - for a while I'll be really into spanking, then hypnosis, then medical, then leather, then something else, and on and on and on. The pagan in me says that's only natural - everything else moves in cycles, why shouldn't this. I know it can be confusing for other people though. There's been more than one instance where one day I'll tell J that I really really would love a spanking, but three days later he tries it and I'm not happy at all.

But anyway, if I don't manage to express this desire to J this time around, there's always the next cycle.

And to close on a really happy note - because I'm a big dork - thanks to orchidea and Danor (Lovesongs for Underdogs) for linking to me. I'm all cute and happy right now because I'm all like "Squee! Someone else reads and enjoys this! Hooray!"

Definitely a dork. Now to just get that Blogroll working again...

Down in Fraggle Rock

In more mundane news, it hit 83 today, and I didn't once think of even putting the a/c in the window, much less turning it on. This, my friends, is the magic of brick, insulation, and trees. Oh, and crossbreezes. I cannot wait to own my own home, but in the meantime, this apartment isn't too bad of a substitute.

Here it is, 2:30 in the morning again. J is sound asleep - which is good, because his ass needs to go to work in the morning. Me? Wide awake.

I wouldn't be so irritated if it weren't for the fact that we had sex earlier tonight. See, I'm like a stereotypical man after sex, generally - I'm not interested in talking (I'm usually not capable of it), I just want to cuddle up and go to sleep. This is usually just fine with both J and me, considering that the only time we have lately to make with the sexing is in the evening before bed.

Perhaps it is worth noting, however, that both last night and tonight, I did not orgasm. It's mostly my fault - I'm dehydrated, and certain, ah, important exterior tissues are a bit irritated right now. The fact that we're using condoms at the moment doesn't help the situation much. J freaked out last night when I hissed at him as he slid in - my usual reaction is generally louder and more positive, shall we say. I'm pretty sure he feels a tad guilty about my lack of orgasm as well - if only because penetration tends to get me off faster and better than almost anything else, especially in the proverbial "missionary position". And here I was having doubts about whether I had a submissive streak!

One thing I have made clear to J though - a rarity! - is that orgasm is great, and I certainly enjoy it, but I like sex even without it. I'm a woman; sex means intimacy to me. Even though "commitment" is more of a four-letter word to me than "fuck", I do like feeling connected to people, especially J. While I do have the occasional issue with submitting to him, I do trust him with much more than I let on - much more than I trust anyone else with.

And speaking of submitting to him, sure as shit, on Monday night as we watched some lovely Japanese bondage porn, he hinted that this weekend he'd certainly be interested in my spending it naked in various fashions. I, in my usual way, pressed for more details. He's not been forthcoming with them - whether because he doesn't know them or wants to frustrate me, I'm not sure - but he has hinted more about nudity, and fun things like spanking, rope, collars, and ball gags. Right now, I'm looking forward to it. I'm pretty sure I'm ready to stop just dangling my feet of the dock and jump in the lake already. Enough with the reading! More with the submitting!

You are still miles away from me

I spent most of this week having a tiff with J. And by "tiff" I mean an "I am not speaking to you and do not even think about touching me because you are in the wrong here" all-out fight.

The reason we were fighting is relatively unimportant - both for this blog, and in real life right now; we've come up with an acceptable plan to deal with it. Suffice it to say that he made a few decisions that I decidedly disagreed with. But the way the fight played out is, because it's fairly typical of our relationship - J screws up in my eyes, I turn into a pissed bitch, he hides until I force him to come out and deal with me.

Ostensibly, I'm submissive to J. In reality, this only actually happens about once a month. I'll get into a really submissive mood and wheedle my way into being spanked, tied, beaten, what-have-you. It usually takes a while - both J and I switch - but I tend to get my way.

In the meantime, though, ask any of J's and my friends, and they'll tell you that I most definitely wear the pants in this relationship. I'm the one with the career, the name on the lease, the one who does the cooking and grocery shopping, the one who picks out the new furniture and living accomidations, who pays the bills... I run things. I'm mature, I'm responsible, and I'm capable of taking care of myself without any help, thankyouverymuch. Better yet, I like things that way.

Moreover, when I can't take care of myself - whether because of sickness, job issues, whatever, and I'm dependent on someone, it's... well let's just say it's a bad scene. That can throw me into a major depressive event faster than you can say "sister submissive". The need to have a job, and to take care of myself, is nearly pathological. I know that. I'm generally okay with that.

The times when it's a problem with me are when I am feeling the need to submit to J. I'm so damn used to getting my way, and making my own decisions, that if I let someone else hold those reins for more than a day or so, it really starts to chafe. Even sometimes when I am willingly submitting, it's difficult for me to discern if I'm telling him "no" about something because I don't want to do it, or because to do so would be genuinely harmful to me. I don't necessarily trust him to make the best possible decision for me. I love him to death, and I know that he wouldn't intentionally hurt me, but at the same time, I know I can make a good decision, and to be honest, J doesn't always - which was what lead to this week. I'm sure I mess up too, but if I brought the consequences on my own head, it's a lot easier to deal with than if someone else dumped them there.

So all this leads to where we are now. J and I would both like me to spend a weekend in submission - it's a very potent idea for the both of us. We have the opportunity, since we have the apartment to ourselves all month. I doubt it will happen this weekend, because I spent nearly the entire week quite forcefully in charge - and righteously pissed. It's hard for me to do a complete 180 at any time and submit, and even harder right now. And it also makes it difficult for me to submit when I have proof that J isn't always the greatest of decision-makers. I'm loathe to give up all the control I've put on my own life to someone that doesn't even have his all in order yet.

J is at least understanding and forgiving when I don't even feel like having sex, much less submitting, and it's never been a problem to stop the action when I need it too. But at the same time, I wonder if maybe I've got it all wrong. I wonder if I'm really a submissive, if J really can Master me, if maybe I should just give up the D/s aspect of BDSM and stick to just getting my ass tied up.

But when I do manage to submit... fuck me, it's amazing. It's an absolutely addictive feeling.

I'd really rather not give up J. But I'd really rather like to have someone that can master me and have me submit without having to ask myself all these questions.

Back in satin

Remember a few days ago how I got back into the proverbial swing of things with my slight (more than slight) medical fetish?

A part of that was sending out an email over a certain Yahoo! group, stating my general location, and that I was seeking a thourough, realistic exam. And now we come to another of my many sins.

The odds of me actually following through on any of the offers I may receive from this email are slim to none. Of course I fantasize about a "real" exam. But to go get one, from a stranger I met on the Internet? Not so much. And let's not talk about the whole "cheating whore" aspect, either, okay? I already know. I've also already thought about it, and the thought of cheating on anyone I'm exclusively fucking, especially J, is anathema to me.

Nonetheless, I have an insatiable curiosity. Too bad it often runs to "let's see what happens if...", involving many people. So, I sent out that email last week.

I've gotten 9 responses in the past two days.

One of them actually raised my faith in humanity a bit. It's from an experienced player in the scene, saying he's glad I know what I want, but warning me of the dangers of some of the activities I expressed interest in. It was polite, truthful, and actually pretty nice. Like I said, it raised my faith in humanity. I'm glad that there are still decent people out there - well, decent for the internet, anyway.

The rest were a mixture of poor spelling and lasciviousness, mostly. From my experience, when you announce that you're a submissive in any way, shape or form in some sort of public forum online, 98% of the "dominants" assume that you're a doormat and desperate, and stupid in the bargain. Just by emailing you and addressing you as "slave", "slut", "whore", you will automatically be subservient to them and start following their bidding. You're a slave, that's what you do, right?

Sure it is. When I'm with someone I trust, and whom I know quite goddamn well. No one on a mailing list or personals site qualifies for that. Let me repeat that: no one on a mailing list or personals site qualifies for that.

Trust is built up over time. Trust can only happen when you start to really get to know a person. You don't really know that person who just responded to your personal ad - just like they really don't know you. Sometimes that last part is really obvious by what they include in their message. I've had guys email me "id luv to fuck ur ass u little slut" when my profile specifically says that I don't do anal. Obviously reading is not fundamental (nor is spelling, nor is grammar).

So when I get emails from people who obviously aren't concerned with anything but how they can get off, I immediately delete them. It might be considered rude, but I figure by not even showing me a modicum of respect from the get-go, they were rude first and I am well within my rights to respond in kind. I find it very difficult to respect anyone who believes it's perfectly fine to show me absolutely none.

There was one emial in this particular batch that I was interested in though. Not only did he tell me where he was, how much experience he had, and how much stuff he had, he told me exactly what process he uses to sterilize it, and outlined the general proecedures he uses for the more dangerous things. I was fairly impressed, truthfully. He seemed to know what he was talking about with the sterilization, which gives me the impression that he actually does it. He would have to travel though, and I seriously doubt that he'd arrange to have an actual exam table travel with him. There goes that idea.

Another was appealing and frightening at the same time. The guy has a table, and then goes on to tell me how he's got all sorts of leather restraints for it, and how maybe I could come dressed up as a secretary going for a work physical and then I could see the table and not want to do it and he'd strap me to it anyway and cut off my clothes. It's a nice little fantasy, even if it does have that "playrape" flavour to it. But I'm not going to let a near stranger restrain me in any way, nor do I have enough money to spare to just have clothing cut off of me. Sure, I could meet him for coffee or something, get to know him, etc. and so on, but I think it's a bad sign if you're starting off this way. What, are you trying to scare me away from you?

What I didn't get from any of the responses was exactly what I wanted: a practitioner near to where I live, with a real exam table, in possession of various specula and other medical instruments, who could give me a relatively realistic exam - and then go a bit beyond that. You know, gyno takes advantage of the woman on the table. I don't want to have sex with any of these guys, but is it too much to ask that we play doctor and then you make me orgasm? I don't think so.

Ah well. I should know by now that finding things of this nature online isn't all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I'll get off my ass and start going to the local munches; make some friends, and find someone that way.

That would of course require me to leave my house...

Everything in its right place

This past weekend was definitely not the time for any sort of sexual exploration, solo or with J. We spent the weekend moving - we got a new, gorgeous, huge apartment with fabulous accouterments and suchlike, for a very affordable price. We couldn't pass it up.

A definite benefit of this new place is all the space. We more than doubled the square footage available to us by moving here. In our last place, we ran into a few problems - with the bed, my desk, the dresser, and the bookshelves in the bedroom, we had maybe five square feet of open space to work with - I wish I were kidding. The living room wasn't much better; we had a couch, cocktail table, end table, and tv table in there, and that had to share space with our former flatmate's dining room table. Not a whole lot of open space there either. Overnight guests had to sleep on the floor, and there was barely enough space for that in either my room or the living room.

The mention of the flatmates brings up another problem: flatmates. In an apartment with paper-thin walls. On the second floor of a three-floor building. Abutting two other apartments. Not exactly conducive to some wild, shrieking sex and/or games. Everything had to stay in our small little bedroom, and it had to stay quiet, for fear that the neighbors would call the cops, or that we'd wake up the flatmates. So much for a good spanking. And never mind spending a weekend in submissive service!

But like I said, the new place is much better. Not only is our bedroom roughly twice the size of the old one, we have a living room (bigger than the combined living/dining room in the old one), a separate dining room, an eat-in kitchen, and two other bedrooms. One of those will eventually be occupied by V, a close friend of ours - but that's not until the end of the month. And since we're in a two-family home, the only neighbors close enough to potentially hear are the landlords, who live upstairs. However, given that this is an actual house, the walls are a lot thicker. I haven't heard more than a few heavy footsteps all day.

So, J and I are in a huge, wide-open apartment, by ourselves for the entire month. He's mentioned to me that he already has a few ideas for things we can do - I believe most of them involve me naked and wearing a collar. This coming weekend ought to be quite interesting.