Once again beaten

The intersection of feminism and kink has come up a lot this past week in the blogosphere - at least the parts I frequent - and naturally, someone has already posted and included a lot of the thoughts I have.

Not all of them, but a lot of them.

Anyway, I highly recommend that y'all read this over at Sugarbutch.

Blah.

I'm not sure when it got to be 2 am, and how it got to be 2 am without my getting done much of anything I wanted to.  The lights still aren't on the Christmas tree, laundry is still unfinished, the new computer still isn't set up... but hey, I tagged a whole bunch of posts and read a whole lot of crap on the internet!

*sigh*

I also have like, no Christmas presents bought for anyone - for most people, I have ZERO IDEA what I'm going to get them.  My house is a mess and I'm having people over in early January, I don't know what I'm going to bake, this coming week at work is going to be insane...

Eh.  Whatever.  I think I'm going to go to bed.

Bitten

The first clue I had that perhaps my attaction to Hal was not entirely of the platonic sort was when he mentioned his fangs.

I have a very sensitive neck, and sensitive ears as well.  Jay has made me squirm and shriek just by coming near them, and a breath across the right patch of skin raises goosebumps down the entire corresponding side of my body, something which Jay finds endlessly entertaining.  I'm rather protective of these areas, as goosebumps are not my idea of fun very often.

Perhaps that's why I like to be bitten - having my ears gently gnawed, or my neck tenderly nibbled - or not so tenderly - is quite arousing for me.  Having other parts bitten is enjoyable as well, but the sensitivity of the skin on my neck and ears adds something to the deal.  Having my neck bitten makes my eyes roll back in my head as my entire body shudders in pleasure, my breath coming hot and heavy.

When I first met Hal, we immediately clicked.  You know how it is with some people, where you know immediately upon meeting them that they are absolutely supposed to be a part of your life and there was a part of you just waiting for them to show up?  That kind of click.  If it weren't for the circumstances under which I met him, which prohibit our having anything other than a professional relationship right now, he'd immediately have taken his place as one of my best friends ever.  He'd be the kind of friend to spend the night at the bar with me, take in a Sox game, just hang out and play video games, and have geeky, intense, ridiculous conversations with late at night.  He would be, as I told him, one of "the posse".

We discovered early on that we're geeky in so many similar ways, although he has an unfortunate preference for Spider-Man rather than Batman.  We discussed games, and more comics, etc. and so on and were talking more about our personal lives when he mentioned the pair of fangs he owns.

My fevered little brain immediately granted me the image and sensation of him using those fangs on my neck.

Up until that moment, I would have sworn - in fact, did, to Vinnie - that everything was strictly platonic.  I was mostly kidding myself, I think; most of our conversations consisted of the sort of flirting one sees in the "I make fun of you because I like you" stage, although I really was somewhat convinced that it didn't mean anything other than two friends good-naturedly ragging on each other.  Clearly, my body and mind had other ideas, as they have frequently told me since.

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.

On maturity

I wasn't kidding when I said that 2009 was the year of men in my life. There's a lot to unpack with that, so I'm going to try to not blow the entire load in one entry because that would be silly (blogging hang-ups: I haz them), but I do want to talk about it.

First and foremost, Jay and I got married early this year. That didn't really change our relationship (except legally), I don't think. We've been together for most of the past 10 years (ten years! TEN YEARS, dear god, ten years). We've lived together, lived apart, shared bills, slept in the same bed practically since we met each other, been to each other's family gatherings and holidays and weddings and funerals, and been a linked pair in most of our family's and friends' minds for a long time now.

People keep asking me how it feels to be married, as if it were some life-altering totally radical change in our relationship. I don't have an answer for them, because it did not radically alter our relationship. We giggle that we're married, and are ridiculous entertained by referring to each other as "husband" and "wife". Yes, we're twelve, what of it? But the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed. I refer to him as my partner for a number of reasons, but first and foremost because that's what he is. We've both worked hard - damned hard - to have a relationship of equals, and just because cultural baggage says we're not, doesn't mean I want that.

What it has changed, however, is our relationship to other people.

I'm told the term I'm looking for may be "Saturn Return"

I've been working my way through the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2009, and discovering lots and lots of fantabulous new reading material.

My blogroll is sadly out of date.

Hell, this blog is sadly out date. Yes, it's been well over a year since I've posted here. At the time I really dropped off, August of 2008, I had moved with Jay to a crappy tiny apartment, I had a crappy job that sucked the life out of me (almost literally; I wound up distressingly ill while working it), my life was a mess.

Clearly, some things have changed.

There's so much to write about! 2009 has been the year of men in my life! We moved to a brand new apartment that has a room we're seriously considering making a semi-permanent playroom! There are hooks more or less permanently attached to the head and footboards! Jay and I got officially married! I have a much better job, that while I hate it, doesn't make me sick! I have been thinking about and wanting and having sex again!

Seriously. Part of my adult identity has been my libido and sexual tastes, and for a while they were just... gone. It was fairly distressing. Added to all of the other things that were fucking my shit up last year, and the tail end of 2008 and, if we're honest, probably the first half of 2009 were a head-fuck of gigantic proportions.

But now that things have started progressing again, it occurs to me that having this self-created safe space to verbally work out some of the things in my head and in my life is probably a helpful, useful thing, and it probably behooves me to utilize it.

So. I'm back.

And updating my damn blogroll, jaysus christ that thing is a mess.

Wait, what?

When did it get to be August?

No, really, when did it get to be August.

I am so not ready for it to be August.




Also, as a maintenance note, I know I've kind of dropped off of the face of the internet for a while. I don't know when I'll be back regularly; I'm in the middle of the 18-months-of-weddings. Seriously. It started with a friends' wedding in March. By September of next year, I will have attended no less than FIVE ADDITIONAL WEDDINGS, a couple of which I get to be involved in. Plus, I'm moving, and, I got a new job. It's been a little nuts around here.

Oh christ jesus

Interestingly enough, during the interlude between my last post and last night, I spent most of my time being top-py. I got to do a lot of tying up of Jay and tickling him until his face turned red and he was almost crying, which is ever so much fun :)

Meanwhile, most of the reason I wanted to post is that, for the most part, we just bummed around the house all weekend. Well, not the bumming, but what happened during the bumming, I suppose.

Jay had hopped in to the shower, and he comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and walks up to me where I am sitting on the couch in the living room and grabs my hand. I am assuming that he wants to drag me in to the bedroom, which I am amenable to, so I start to get up. He shakes his hand, and shoves it under the towel, so that I can have the wonderful experience of grabbing freshly shaven balls.

Since sincere fondling would not be a good idea in the living room, as my flatmates are home, I take the opportunity to drag him in the bedroom and thoroughly inspect them. I approve.

I then shove his hand in my pants, so that he can enjoy the fact that I at least trimmed my pubic hair. What can I say, I've been lazy. Then we get the great idea that, you know, since we're not doing anything else, why don't I go and finish the job?

It only took me forty minutes! Actually, I probably shouldn't be proud of that.

The snatch has not been this smooth and hairless since probably some time in the first W administration, something else I should probably not be proud of. At the very least, this is the first time in a long while I did not just try to do everything in the shower. That is a pain in the ass, almost literally. Thanks to the boobs, I really can't see anything down there when I'm standing up. It's hard enough to shove them far enough out of the way when I'm sitting to do so, but it does work a lot better.

Saying that we had sex (kinky sex!) after that is kind of anti-climactic, but we did, and it was good, and yes, it really was the first time I was the bottom since February.

I feel so naked!

to put the world to rights

You know, it's really difficult to take pictures of really tall boots while you're wearing them. At least, I find it difficult to get a picture that I like.

A week or two ago, I had asked Jay if he'd be willing to indulge me in what I believe I termed as "serious rope". Not so much predicament bondage, or anything that would cause me pain in any way, but being seriously tied up and immobilized by vast quantities of rope. There's a kind of zen in being unable to move like that, in the presence of someone you love. I needed that.

For whatever reason, we haven't managed it yet. We've both been tired - me more than usual; hating my job tends to make me sleepy, which I am ascribing to mild depression - and busy. I spent the weekend at a friend's house last weekend, which also didn't afford us many opportunities to do anything. And, Jay being Jay, he wanted to have a definite plan in mind.

I'm not posting this to complain, however it might seem. But... I still need that moment of calm. I need to feel that giving up of the effort to control everything - giving up that feeling that I have to be in control, like I have to be in charge and be a rational adult. It's difficult for me to relax completely unless I'm forced to. Rope just happens to be a really good way of calming me down, and giving me the ability to let go and just be. It's one of the few things that can reliably shut my nattering mind up, without giving it extra things to work over later.

My calendar is looking rather free on Saturday at the moment. I think that I will be penciling him in, if he's amenable to the idea.

Still don't want to have sex.

You know, judging by the fact that I took work off today so that I could sleep and avoid it, and reading back on all the entries here about how annoyed at work I am and generally feeling crappy, I have come to the conclusion that it is, once again, time to find a new job.

My current job is not, so not, in the field I want to be in right now. I mostly took this job because it would be easy, low-stress, and something that would not interfere with graduate school. Admittedly, it did that admirably. It also pays me well and is pretty flexible, and my boss is very understanding about little things like health problems.

However, this job is also boring the bejesus out of me. At this point, it's too easy. I feel like I have completely mastered any and everything they've thrown at me in the past year and a half. Also, I have a new boss. Theoretically, this also comes with new duties, which were supposed to happen the beginning of this month, then they were supposed to happen at the end of March, and now they're supposed to be "in progress" right now and totally my deal by the end of March. This is part of the ongoing reorg that the department I'm in is going through, and it's totally being handled poorly. Just like it has been for the past year.

The thing is, even with the new duties, I'm not going to be doing what I want to do, which, right now, is social work. Admittedly, that's easier to do if I finish my degree, and I'm probably not going back to school until next year, at this point, for a number of reasons. But, current job is stable, current job theoretically is giving me a huge raise soon, and theoretically also giving me better benefits soon.

The new duties are also not going to distance me very much from the annoying people that I hate. You know, the ones that are incapable of reading their email, instead preferring to call me six times to ask the same question that I answered in the email to them three weeks ago. Yeah, those people. Still going to have to work with them. All set with working with them. You do not even know how all set.

So at this point, I have to figure I have a couple of options, looking something like this:

• Stay in job, suck it up, deal with it, and wait until new duties come along, hoping that the raise goes through and then I will really be able to put away some dough. This is likely to result in an extremely poor state of mental health, if my history is anything to go by.
  
• Stay in job, and start volunteering again at the agency I was at before graduate school. This would likely alleviate some of the worst pangs of "ugh, this is not where I am meant to be," but still doesn't solve the problem of idiocy. Yes, I know, idiocy is everywhere, but at least if I moved, it would be different idiocy.
  
• Stay in job, and see if I can't get back in to grad school for this year. Part of the reason I left grad school, was that they would not work around the fact that I had a 9-5 job, even though I was in the program specifically for people with jobs. Part of the reason I'm not back yet is because I want to make sure that if I go back into a program, they really are going to work around the fact that I work, and not just give lip service to the idea.
  
• Get a new job.

The first is right out. I'm already to the point where I'm calling off of work because I hate it, so really, making zero changes ain't going to cut it. I am undecided on the other three. Any bright ideas?

Note:

Apparently black patent leather, 4" spike heel, knee-high, lace-up-like-a-corset boots really do it for Jay.

Things that bother me, version 6742

1. People who don't pay attention. Seriously. Unfortunately, I work with a lot of people who don't pay attention. Most often, it takes the form of asking me the same question multiple times. This is especially annoying when, before you could even ask the question, I sent you an email with documentation which, should you choose to read it and retain some information, will answer your question. I mean, I understand people forget. Hell, I do it all the time. But forget one week after I sent you that email? Pay. the fuck. attention. asshat.
   
   
   
   
   
2. Sanctimonious gestures. This came up from Manolo for the Brides, which is part of the superfantastic group of Manolo blogs, most of which I read obsessively regardless of actual relevance to my life. Anyway, I am firmly on the side of the blogger here - giving a donation to charity in lieu of favors - and then telling your guests that you did it - is a sanctimonious piece of show-offery and is, quite frankly, bullshit. Look dude, I don't care if you want to give to charity. That's your money, your business. I don't even care which charity or charities you support. But when you drag me in to it - whether my name was given to the charity or not - dude, now you're just a prick. I couldn't care less about favors. I do care about pharisaic gestures.
   
   
   
   
   
3. Books that treat kink like a sickness. I admit, I read a lot of crap paperbacks. Whatever, they're cheap and very escapist. I happen to like Kay Hooper's SCU novels. A lot. But I really hate that in one of them, one of the murder victims has a pretty sweetly equipped dungeon in his basement, and it's referred to as "sick", "twisted", "perverted", etc. and so on. And how one of the other characters says "It's not something most women would enjoy." Okay, one, BDSM is not, in and of itself, sick. Please make the distinction between BDSM in general, and what this guy did in particular - which, given that he was 30-something and his partner was 12, is in fact pretty fucked up. What two consenting non-abusing adults do in their bedroom is not sick. Sex is not sick, toys are not sick, playing with sensations is not sick, for fuck's sake.
   
   And finally...
   
   
   
   
   
4. Making assumptions about what I like, just because I have tits. Just because I appear to be female, does not mean I like "what most women like". For example, I happen to like kink! In fact, after the Flea, I'm discovering that a lot of women happen to like kink, and a lot of my friends do, too. Surprise! I also don't like diamond rings, white dresses, dresses in general, and fancy luncheons. (Can you tell I've been reading a few books about the commercialization of American weddings lately? Fascinating how fucked-up it all is.) I don't like a lot of perfumes (I'm allergic to most of them), I don't like receiving "girly" gifts (please don't give me scented or otherwise fancy soaps or lotions; I won't use them, because I don't like how a lot of them smell), I really hate bachelorette parties (and no, bachelorette really is not a word), I really hate shopping, and quite honestly, I would rather shoot myself than do a lot of stereotypical female things. I like what I like, regardless of its traditional gender role. Please stop making assumptions about me, it gets really annoying.

I popped my con cherry

So Jay and I have been traveling this past week, and part of the itinerary included Providence, RI, home to a few good friends of ours from college who we haven't seen for a while. It happened to be my friend Elaina's birthday this past weekend as well, which neatly coincided with the New England Leather Alliance's Fetish Fair Fleamarket. In conversations with Elaina prior to the weekend, it was decided that we should spend the day on Saturday at the Flea, you know, since we were in the neighborhood and all.

Now, my initial reaction, after I agreed to this idea of hers, because of course I agreed to this because I am cool and cosmopolitan, was, HOMIGOD, I am going to be out in public at a kinky event and I am not sure this was a good idea. You see, for all of my sophistication, I don't do the whole "no, really, I'm kinky" thing. You know, there's a reason that this blog is anonymous, okay? I am not okay with being "out there", at least with kink.

So I sucked it up and went anyway. There were a half a dozen of us who went, and while I thought it would be really weird to be at a kinky convention with friends who don't know that I'm kinky it... well, wasn't. The nice thing about these friends is that they're all adults and really couldn't care less.

Now, when we first got there, I was kind of freaking out a little bit. I wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to handle the whole "convention" thing. So, I treated it like I was at an event back in the days when I worked in the queer community - just relax, don't stare, take it all in stride. And, it worked. True, I saw some really odd things there, and I did repeat "your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay" a LOT, but, honestly, I had a pretty good time.

There were a couple of, well, moments. First was one of those "holy shit, people from the internets are REAL" moments, when I got to meet Monk and alex and bought rope from them. I like to think I was a cool customer. I probably wasn't. I was thisclose to saying "teehee I read your blog" and introducing myself. That was a little too gutsy for me, however, so I settled for buying lots of rope, and being disappointed that there was no Bavarian Blonde.

The second was when I guess I gave away a little too much, because Elaina totally gave me a look, like, "how do you know this?" One of her other friends was going to a class, and she was trying to figure out which one. She mentioned that it was being given by Midori, and I said, without thinking, "Oh, probably something about rope bondage then". She Looks at me. I shrug it off and say "I am the queen of knowledge on the internet, dude." I think she suspects that is not so much the case.

Finally, Jay bought me a corset. It is delicious and wonderful and I loves it SO MUCH.

But yes, a good time was had by all. I may even be persuaded to attend another public kinky event at some point. Maybe.

My house looks like a tornado hit it

Best part? I haven't even been here for the past two weeks. And I didn't even host any parties! It's all leftovers from frenzied baking, present-wrapping, packing for trips, etc. and so on.

Pretty much the entirety of the past two months has gone by in a blur. From painting Elizabeth's house in early November, to Thanksgiving with Jay's family (oh god, why was that a good idea) to Christmas with mine and New Year's out of state and this and that and that other thing and HOLY CHRIST I have no idea where I just spent two months and sixteen hojillion dollars. Can't tell you.

I am not ready for it to be 2008. I am not ready to go back to work (which is why I didn't today). I am not ready to tackle the unpacking, the laundry, the cleaning (jesus christ, there's a spiderweb between my couch and my bookshelf), the restocking of food and coming up with healthy things to eat and the getting back on track with being healthy and just EVERYTHING. I am not currently prepared to cope with life as usual.

So I am going to put up my feet. I am going to do up my new calandar (that cost me twenty freaking bucks! What the fuck!) because that will make me feel more organized. I may or may not sign in to my work email. I am going to get myself a glass of wine, of which I bought a ridiculous amount this past weekend. I am going to throw my ski clothes in the wash, and then I am going to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special because I STILL haven't goddamned managed to do that!

I hope you all had wonderful holidays, whatever or however you celebrate, and wish you all the best in 2008 (jesus, it's 2008, that's horrifying).

I cannot wait for this week to be over

Can someone please explain to me why so many people have trouble following simple, goddamn written down directions?

I would really like to know. Because if I know why they can't handle it, maybe I have a shot at fixing it, and I won't have to repeat a week like this one, where if it can be fucked up at work, it has been fucked up, and 99% of the fuck-ups are because people cannot follow directions.

give me another round of...

You know, I like this "going to doctors and getting answers" thing. Not only did I find out what the hell was going on with my abdomen (and yes, it's possible that it was the main source of pain all along), but I also found out what's going on with my shoulder. That's only been screwed up for, oh, five months?

Leaving the question of why I wasn't booked with the clinic's shoulder specialist in the first place, I finally saw him yesterday. Diagnosis? Biceps tendinitis and a torn labrum. Which apparently was visible on the MRI, if you were looking for it. Glad I want to see him; I like knowing these sorts of things.

Basically, the torn labrum thing (well, and the tendinitis) is something that will just have to get better more or less on its own. However, we are going to try to speed up the process using physical therapy; I have my first evaluation appointment this coming Tuesday. While PT isn't my favorite thing in the world, I'll deal with it if it means less shoulder hurting.

I really, really like having explanations for things. It makes it a lot easier to deal with if I have a label for it.

Soporific

I had already taken off my clothes, and was sprawled across the bed in all my naked glory. Behind me, Jay was undressing.

It was a late night; we were both tired and had stayed up watching baseball. I hear the belt come out of the loops, and then nothing else. I turn, see him holding the belt with a considering look in his eye, and dive under the covers.

Meep.

I hear him set the belt down, and poke my head out to look at him, raising one of my eyebrows.

He looks back at me, and I remind him that there is a world of difference between "Oh the HELL you're doing that to me" and "oh my god please don't do that to me", and we were definitely in the territory of the latter.

Once having this properly explained to him, Jay proceeded to put me to sleep by applying his belt to my ass. And it was fantastic.

Talk about anti-climactic

Well, the good news is that I do not have a kidney infection, nor do I have any of the other potential things that quite honestly, were a bit scary. I did have an ovarian cyst that burst, apparently, which is kind of sucky, but in terms of things I would rather have it be, there's not really that many.

Better news, there weren't any more abnormal cysts on the CT scan, and now that I'm not completely losing my shit, I should really start feeling better. Which, I do. At the very least, I'm much more calm, and that really does help a lot. Things are not perfect, but at the very least I have a diagnosis, and I have a timeline besides "we don't know".

Work... kinda still sucks, but now that I have one less thing to worry about, it's a little easier to take.

Mostly what I've been up to, I guess you could call nesting. I cleaned the blankets for my bed, and I made a wreath for my front door, and I'm cooking and baking again. I'm also starting a container garden on my back porch, which so far includes garlic. Yup, pretty awesome. I'm going to put some tulips in later this week. One of my garlic cloves is already sprouting (which I am told they tend to do and is totally okay), so that is exciting, because my green thumb, not usually so green.

Other than that, I am waiting on ski season. Oh, and feeling obligated (by no one but myself) to spend Thanksgiving with Jay's family. This puts a slight kink in my plans to go skiing on Thanksgiving again. Skiing just might win out, familial relations be damned.