No fucking thank you

So, I don't actually like receiving oral.

Giving?  Oh, I adore giving.  I fantasize about cocks in my mouth on a regular basis.

Receiving?  Not so much.

For the most part I try to be, mmm, nonchalant about it.  "It's nice", I say, "but that's about all it is".  Or, "I can take it or leave it".

That is more where I want to be, where I strive to be, than where I really am.

Where I actually am is Saturday morning, Jay and I had woken up, and I was feeling decidedly frisky.  We started making out, he put his hand on my throat, starting using the paddle on my tits (which have I mentioned?  I love), started using it on my cunt.  I was sprawled on the bed, legs open, really starting to get in to things and thinking to myself "oh god please fuck me" when he bends over me, puts his face between my legs, and ever-so-gently starts licking my clit.

"It's okay, I'm cool" I practically chanted to myself and laid absolutely still.  Yeah, it was cool for about 90 seconds, tops, when it was definitely OHMYGODNOTCOOL and I pretty much freaked.

A couple of things:

1. The better I'm doing on a given day with respect to my body image, the easier it is for me to chill out and not freak out when Jay starts eating me out.  If I'm already anxious in some way about my body, it's far easier for me to be extremely anxious about the state of my vadge.  On Saturday, I was already low-level freaking about the fact that we were due to be going to the beach with friends, and I would be wearing a swimsuit, and my legs were kind of hairy, and none of these friends had ever seen me in a swimsuit before.  Yes, intellectually, who the fuck cares?  It's my body, my body is wonderful, if they have a problem with it it's their problem not mine blah blah blah etc. and so on.  And most of the time, I can maintain that.  But unlearning the self-loathing for my body that I've been marinating in for nearly 30 years is a long, arduous process, and clearly is not done yet.  It was definitely an "EW NO GROSS" moment.  I'm not proud of it, but there it is.
2. At the best of times, oral sex performed on me is pleasant and nothing more.  It does not come close to getting me off, and doesn't do anything to increase the pleasure I'm feeling.  If anything, it decreases it, as it's kind of ho-hum.  As you can imagine, this doesn't provide any incentive to get over myself in this area.
3. I'm really sick of hearing from various sources, such as magazines and the like, that oral is the end-all-be-all of getting off and that women all looooove oral.  Fuck you.  By stating that women are a monolith you do a disservice to women fucking everywhere.  We all get off in different ways and like different things and that's okay.
4. Joseph and I, in our myriad discussions, have discussed oral.  Upon finding out that I actually don't like receiving, his reply was "When we get together, I WILL go down on you, and you WILL like it."  My immediate reaction was "Fuck you, no I won't".  I don't respond well to orders.  SHOCKING, I know.  But that conversation popped in to my head Saturday morning.  It added to the fucked-up-ness, which I didn't appreciate.
5. I also hear about all these women who just wish their guys would go down on them, and I wish mine wouldn't.  How is it that a woman who despises oral keeps attracting guys who love giving it?  What the fuck?
6. Jay's and my relationship is such that should he choose to dominate this hang-up out of me, he probably could.  In other words, he could order me to like it, proceed to do it to me on a regular basis, and basically train my reaction out of me.  He hasn't, and I'm not sure I want him to.
7. My sense of smell has been cranked to 11 lately, so I am hyper-sensitive to odors, and have a hard time remembering this under pressure.

So I got triggered in a bad, ugly way, and proceeded to cry in the shower, and then be unspeakably tetchy and angry the entire rest of the day. We also did not go to the beach, for mostly related reasons.

We eventually processed it all out (at 3 in the morning, when we both went to bed, wheee!), whereupon I cried again.  Jay had gotten blindsided when I freaked in the morning, because one, he had no way of knowing what kind of headspace I was already in, and 2, when we had last discussed this topic and I had said "it's not unpleasant?" I had not made clear that that was more in the way of being a goal than my default state of being.

Having processed and reconnected, we were both feeling better, whereupon he proceeded to apply the new clips I bought at Ikea to my nipples, which, I have to share, was DIVINE.  Which will teach him to doubt my purchases!  And lo, it was good.

Still do not have any desire to be eaten out, ever though, thanks.  Just... no.

Drunken non-escapades

I have this entire week off of work, and oh dear god it is wonderful.  I get to wake up at 9 when Jay leaves for the day, kiss him goodbye, and then snooze for a bit.  Then I get to do whatever I want.  It is extremely awesome and I don't want to go back to work, like, ever.

Unfortunately, I still have not figured out a way to make money without going to work, so Monday's going to suck it.

Over the long weekend - well, Jay's long weekend; he is, as mentioned, working this week - we went to visit some dear friends of ours and stayed with them.  There was much drinking, much movie watching, and much video game  playing, as it was about A MILLION DEGREES OUTSIDE and none of us are fans of the heat.

Saturday night we made salsa and were drinking mojitos.  I would not have called myself a rum fan - and still wouldn't - but oh lord I love me a good mojito.  I lost count at 5, which was somewhere around 11 that night.  Jay and I eventually went to bed around 3, and, being drunk, that meant I was horny.  The problem is, I'm loud.  Like, really loud.  I am an extremely vocal person anyway, that doesn't stop during sexual activity, and my voice really carries.  And we were in our friends' apartment, with four other people, so being loud wasn't an option.  Jay being an asshole, he was doing things specifically designed to make me scream, such as trying to remove my nipples by hand (swear to god that's what he was doing).  It's a lot more intense, I think, when you have to deal with the pain silently.

This went on for a while, and my control started slipping and I let out a whimper.   Jay responded by putting his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, which was hot as hell for the thirty seconds it took my brain to work out that there was something on my fucking face ohohgodohgodgetitoff.  Things on my face - like hands, scarves, masks, etc. - freak me out proper.  So I freaked, Jay cuddled me, and we passed out.  Dammit.

We did make up for it Monday  night when we got home, though, so that makes me feel a bit better.  But it was sober, which is a completely different sensation.  Ah well.  It's good to be home.

Everyone loves mail, part II

Arriving in the mail today, courtesy of my credit card and the fine folks at Blowfish:

• A miniature "I Rub My Fishie" - did y'all know that it comes with its own shower shelf?  It totally does.  I think it's going to live in our shower (ps living by ourselves is AWESOME)
• A Feeldoe

Oh yes, a Feeldoe.  Did I mention that we're both switches?  Mwahahahah.

As for the previous mail, we did in fact try out the new clamps on Monday night.  I was sitting on the couch wasting time and half-watching the football game (serious Patriots, that was not your best outing) when Jay walks in with the new clamps delicately jingling in his hand and says "Take off your shirt."

Oh.  Well then.

I give him a conflicted look and took it off, then asked him why he said I should take it off.

"Because they you can take off your bra."

Oh.

The bra comes off and Jay moves over by me to put on the clamps.  The good news:  the clamps are adjustable and since this week is apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for my nipples, they felt fantastic.  The bad news is that my nipples are bigger than I thought (and I will swear that they're bigger than they used to be) and so the clamps don't really fit on them.  I stood up and they both promptly fell off.

Not to be deterred, Jay shooed me in to the bedroom and bid me remove the rest of my clothing, whereupon he clipped them to my labia, where they could again delicately jingle.  They still felt really good (like, really good; it's just apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for all of my body) but the jingling kind of broke my head.  Every time I breathed there would be this gentle chiming from the rings as they swayed and hit each other, and I found it juuust a bit disconcerting.

My head got broken even worse when he clipped the rings together.  Oh goody, just what a sadist always wanted, a fucking handle.  And yes, I do mean that in both senses.

Everyone loves mail.

Arriving in the mail today:

• An assortment of spreader bars, including a couple of 4" ones, for which we have some very specific purposes in mind
  
• Adjustable nipple clamps with 1" metal rings dangling from them
• A small bottle of Liquid Silk lube

 This is exciting for me.  Not least of which is because wow, could I please have my nipples tortured a bit please?  KTHXBAI.  Seriously.

Jay spent some more quality time last night pinching and twisting them, to the same reaction.  His comment was "You know, I've always been told that nipples aren't faucets, but damned if they don't work that way on you."  It doesn't work that way all the time, but hooo boy am I going to enjoy it while it does.

It's kind of a pity that Monday Night Football is on, because otherwise I'd so totally be in bed convincing Jay to try out the nipple clamps on me.

Actually... we live by ourselves, and the shades are closed.  HMMM.

Seriously, what the hell.

Why is it that some times, Jay pinching and twisting my nipples makes me scream in pain, and some times (like last night) it is the HOTTEST MOST WONDERFUL THING EVER.

Now all I need is a clothesline

So when I posted those stupid things I said over the weekend, what two weekends ago?

Completely aside, I remember desperately wanting to get older when I was a kid, and being pissed that time moved too slowly, and now that I'm older, holy shit, time moves WAY too fucking fast, okay?

Anyway, so I said those two things as, clearly, Jay was in the middle of beating my ass, which is what I have tended to use to refer to any and all BDSM-type activities. In this case, he did in fact beat my ass, but, you know, saying that he should beat me does not necessarily mean that I think he should find the nearest implement and whale away at my ass.

In this particular instance, Jay did in fact beat my ass for a while, but there were restraints involved as well. Now, being as I was restrained, I couldn't do much about the fact that Jay is a sadist. I may have covered that a few times here before, but just so that we're all on the same page, Jay is a sadist and frequently likes to remind me that he likes causing me pain. On this occasion, Jay decided to bring out the clothespins and experiment on my boobs.

Now, while Jay is a sadist (did I mention that he's a sadist? good) I am only kind of a masochist. I don't like pain, so much as I like discrete amounts of certain kinds of pain. Clips and clamps on my nipples are usually right out, if I have anything to say about it.

Guess what Jay loves to do? Well, he proceeded to do that, but not content with only using two clothespins from the bag full of them, he decided to put four more, making little compasses out of my boobs.

At this point I am deep-breathing, and in between deep-breathing, staring at him balefully. But I have to admit, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be, said expectations being born out of past experience. I don't know whether it was because I got a very good warm-up, some wonky hormone deal, what, but... my boobs didn't hurt bad. Oh, they hurt, but I was almost kind of enjoying the hurt.

If you've ever read kaya's blog, you've probably seen the pictures of the boob flowers (and if you don't read her blog, you should pop over there). Jay decided to make boob flowers. He put all of the clothespins in the bag on my boobs, continuing those four single clothespins into four rows of clothespins. But there were only about twenty clothespins in that bag, and there were spaces between the clothespins in the rows.

It was at this point that I piped up with my helpful remark about having bought more clothespins. To this day, I am not quite sure what was possessing me at the time. Clearly, my rational mind was not in control at that point. Jay's face naturally lights up and he goes to get the new clothespins, and proceeds to put them on, for a total of 26 pins on each boob.

And I am enjoying myself. For reals, I am laid back and enjoying myself, because this feels kind of good. I was blatantly ignoring that they would have to come off at some point, and instead basking in the warm glow that can only come from being in pain. He twitched them with his fingers, and jiggled my boobs around a bit, and there were a few sharp intakes of breath on my part, but it was not bad pain.

Jay's kind of an asshole though, and he took them off. That sucked. I spent the entire time with my face screwed up tight and trying not to breathe. But still, this wasn't as painful as other times I have had clips and/or clamps applied to my boobs. I wouldn't say that I enjoyed this, but it wasn't that bad. Okay, well, the nipples were that bad, and I almost cried. However, I did not cry, which earned me a "I'm very proud of you; you are a good girl", which, if I had been standing up, I would have blushed, ducked my head, and scuffed my shoe, most of which did not work as I was lying back on the bed.

I don't know that I would ever personally volunteer for that treatment again (then again, it's not about me volunteering, is it?), because this really was a one-in-a-million, I think. Whatever alignment of stars or hormones or whatever happened that day, while I wouldn't mind it happening again, I don't know that I'm going to go out and test for it, you know? But... dammit, I liked it. Oh god, I liked it. And I had a pair of lovely boob flowers to go to sleep with.

I said no, no, no

It all started when Jay decided that he was interested in breaking out the Houdini. The plan was that he would wear it starting Wednesday morning, when he left my place, and it would stay on until Thursday night, when he got back.

During the day Thursday, I naturally made mention that perhaps it wouldn't be coming off Thursday, and instead would stay off the entire weekend. He wasn't sure what to make of that - it was one of those "I would hate and love that at the same time" things.

Me being me, it came off Thursday night, but that didn't mean that he was allowed to touch the penis, oh no. There was no penis touching allowed. At first he was grateful to just not be wearing the Houdini anymore, but I don't know that "grateful" really accurately sums up the rest of the night.

One of the side benefits of my working in an office now is that my nails have a chance to get really, really long, and I put them to very good use. It started with using two of my nails to pinch his nipples, but I decided they would work just as well, oh, everywhere else on his body. There was considerable squirming of the "I hate you don't stop" type.

I also broke out the crop and beat his ass for a while. That is intensely satisfying, since he can not only take a lot of pain, but his ass really does turn a nice rosy color really quickly.

And through it all, through it all, there was no touching of the penis. It eventually got to the point where he was informing me "Oh, so that's what blue balls feel like", which naturally, just added to my glee. I'm sure it wasn't so much fun for him, but I was certainly enjoying myself.

That's the thing. When I'm in charge, I am gleeful. He enjoys pain, and I enjoy inflicting it upon him, grinning like a deranged pixy the entire time. I took some time and came up with new ways to inflict pain, and it was great! Fingernails are truly, truly awesome - a stance which I previously have not held.

The only problem with any sort of denial play is that I don't usually last too long - neither of us does, really. Eventually we give in and fuck each other stupid, which we proceeded to do in this case. It wasn't for at least an hour and a half after we'd started though, so I was proud of myself for holding out that long.

And we were very, very stupid afterwards. Which makes it all the nicer to (eventually; it usually takes me a while to move) snuggle up together and fall asleep in each other's arms.

never be the same again

SO. Presentation is done. All that's left is to write up a self-evaluation, which will take me about ten minutes to do when I do it, because it's 2 pages or less of complete and utter bullshit.

So, I'm relaxing with a glass of wine and some Sevendust on iTunes, and wicked pleased with myself because the presentation was A-mazing.

I am in fact sitting down!

We got the crop on a Thursday, ever-so-conveniently. Must love the Stockroom. Jay came over that evening, as he usually does, and I surprised him with a long, skinny box on the bed. He knew I'd ordered it - he helped pick it out - but I hadn't told him it was there.

He was, at least, generous enough to let me have dinner.

The week before, I had completely lost it when he had my wrists tied, and I was laying on my back, and he took the flogger to my, of course, bound breasts. I am talking lost, my shit. Rope floggers, right, not exactly the most precise of instruments, and while it doesn't hurt, per se, it was entirely too close to my face to avoid panic. We are talking like, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling back in my head (which you couldn't see because they were screwed shut, but you know) panic. That stopped things right quick, and nothing else really happened.

Jay, though, was disappointed. Apparently he likes beating me or something? I don't know. Anyway, I am pleased to report that the crop is much, much more precise. Exceedingly precise, if you must know. For people like me ("not the face! not the face!") this is an important detail.

Also, I love it, from both ends (which I will get to). It is long and skinny and black and it smells good and it is not nearly as stingy as I was fearing. It's definitely more stingy than, say, a flogger. And I don't really like stingy (canes make me a sad panda). But it's not entirely stingy - it's a good balance of sting and thud, which makes it entirely enjoyable. He decided that beating my His tits was the way to start the night, and I blissed the hell out. It felt gooooooooooood. And since it's much easier to control, I could close my eyes and be assured that the face would not in fact be involved.

Not content with the tits, Jay flipped me over and went for the ass. Oh my god, I was so relaxed and out of it that I drooled on the pillow and could not differentiate one hit from another. I slightly noticed when he used his wrist to thwack me quickly with it - crops are bouncy! - and could tell that was different from when he used more of his arm to really smack me - crops also don't require much effort to get much smack behind them - but it was all fucking fantastic. It's usually pretty difficult for me to get in that kind of blissed space, even in bondage, because my brain just likes thinking waaay too much, but wow was I far into it at that point. Jay likes to say that I get fucked stupid - which I do; sex makes me a flipping idiot - but I was long dumb before things got there.

As for the other end, I got to try it out on Jay the very next night, and holy butt is it FUN. You can grip it really tightly and make your arm shake from the strain and the business end just gleefully bounces up and down on your chosen surface, and you can whale away, and you can lightly tap, and you can caress - say, gently rub it over someone's balls? - and it goes exactly where you want it. I kind of want to walk around my house and hit things with it, just for the satisfaction of having something do exactly what I want, but I don't think it'd go over well with the roommates.

Unfortunately, after that weekend, the project really started eating up my time, so we have not used it since then - sad day, right? But now that it's done, and I suddenly have a lot more free time, I fully intend to do what I can to make sure it's used this weekend. Jay is back on the Dom kick again - if the way I was woken up Sunday night is any indication - so I don't think it'll be too hard.