The "F" Words - Get Figged

Sometimes I am a bad sub.  I have said get fucked.   I occasionally call Him a cunt - I think it more regularly but I also feel that considering the level to which we play and the fucked up things He does, it is justified.  Seriously.

He had a BRILLIANT idea over the weekend.  He was mussing over whether or not I had any ginger and I looked wide-eyed and said I did not. Grateful I did not. I think He didn't think I knew what figging was but I do....oh yes, yes I do. I remember reading about it on another blog a long time ago and it has stuck with me.

Anyway, figging sounded awful so I did not dare mention to Him that I had read anything about it at the time.  I know He knows most of these things but why draw something up in His memory, it seems like a seriously crazy thing to do.   Anyway, He was sitting at my kitchen table, ruminating about figging with ginger and chillies (as you do on a pleasant Saturday morning).  When He slapped His hands down on the table and got His "I have just thought of something so twisted and wonderful you are going to struggle to even comprehend my brilliance" look.  His eyebrows raise up really high and He gets this massive grin, He leans forwards and says "Chillies on your needles" and grins again with His eyes getting wider waiting for me to tell him it is the best idea I have even heard.

Oh yes, yes....that sounds like a grand fucking plan if ever I heard one...

Getting Real

I am struggling at the moment, fair readers, with the editing of my blog.  I will let you in on a secret.  I play a little harder than what I write about.  I want to be honest, I really do, but there are somethings I skirt around a bit....and there are other things I skirt around a lot.  What I suppose would normally take half an hour to an hour to write takes me painful hours of deliberation trying to make sure you can understand why I am in the emotional headspace I am in without being too explicit...Don't for one second think I am anything less than honest.  Everything I am feeling and experiencing is real for me, it is just some of the physical stuff I am careful with - especially since I know some of the people who read...

So what do you think, guys?  For those of you who blog yourselves, especially the subbly bunch, what do you hold back?  Do you hold anything back?  Do any of your real-time friends read or know about your life?

I personally find the duality difficult.  I am not used to holding back anything from anyone.  I am about as much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get person as you can get.  Most of my close girlfriends know.  A few of my close male friends know.  My sister-in-law knows.  

The people I have around me love me and think I am crazy.  They have always thought that though, so this just serves to confirm it.  They shake their heads or say they always knew, even when I used to play back in the day, they knew.  None of them have felt it appropriate to even feign shock.  I wonder about that.  What is it about me that screams kink?  Not that it matters.  If I have always known, then why would everyone else have been oblivious?  I will say though that there was a bit of a murmur when I said I had a Sir.  It was expected that I have pup, but a Sir for you?   That has quite possibly been the most interesting part.  The reaction (especially some of my rabbidly feminist friends *waves*) to the idea of me submitting.  I have found that treatment of me is reflective of how people react to life in general.  Some of them read here religiously, some read occasionally, some don't read at all.  Some want details, want more from me, some ask and then don't ask, look and beg curiosity and then get squeemish - they are the ones who enjoy thinking things are terrible.  Some want to talk about the emotional side, want to understand the reasoning, the need, the desire.  Some want to talk about the physical.  As long as I am safe and happy they don't really care about TTWD. 

It makes me wonder how much of hiding and closeting BDSM really has to do with other people and how much it has to do with how we percieve ourselves.  People know there is 'kink' out there.  People, all people, have their fetishes.

I am not planning on handing out business cards with my blog-link to the other mums at my kids' new school, but really...this is part of who I am SO this is my warning to all you who look me in the eye.  I am going to start gradually being more honest on here.  You will be reading more of the physical realities of TTWD.  If you think there is even the slightest possibility that you will be uncomfortable - stop reading.  If you are reading out of morbid curiosity - stop reading.  If you think I am a terrible person - stop reading.  If you are a little turned on, you have my mobile number, give me a call....

I am good at keeping the pieces of my life whole within me and separate out of the necessity of life but that is something we all do.  You wear your daughter hat for your mum but it doesn't sit on your head at the office.  You wear your office hat at work, but not as a lover.  Your hats are all there, tucked away, to be pulled on when needed.  My BDSM-side is the same.  It is just a collar, not a hat!

So the questions were: 

For those of you who blog yourselves, what do you hold back?  Do you hold anything back? 

Do any of your real-time friends read or know about your life?

Why do you think we hide TTWD?

Kinky Excursion Part Two - Want

We headed inside and I filled out membership forms. My bid for ease, (emailing to ask under what conditions I am to apply for membership) thwarted by a lack of clarity, so, standing at the front desk with increasing numbers of people waiting to get in, I had to state to three different people that I wanted to apply for membership for myself and my husband but that this was not my husband, this was my Dom and that I had had email confirmation that as long as I didn't come with both of them on the same night then it would be fine to only have one membership...yes, this certainly was a discomfort I did not need...details sorted, membership granted.

Being newbies we were required to take the guided tour. This consisted of us being met at the door by a woman who opened the door, walked us through and pointed at things from the doorway. We were standing on one side of a smallish warehouse space. It was quite warm and inviting. The flooring was black and white tiles (unless you looked closely, in which case it was white tiles with the alternate ones painted black) with a few mirrors and some framed pictures of gorgeous people up on the walls. There were a few couches set up in two U shapes, a small (tiny) stage with a pole, a set of stocks, a red fixed table with bench seating, a bar and pool table. There was one set of stairs which lead up to the bedrooms and a smoking area where another set of stairs lead to the bondage space. When I turned back to face the entrance I noticed two small rooms either side, one was a cloakroom and the other contained a massage chair, a plasma playing bad porn and a horse sort of thing. I did not venture in to have a look.

There were not many people inside. A few couples and quite a few single men. It was still fairly early. We sat, talked, flicked through a lingerie brochure. I noticed the stocks sitting quietly beside the stage. Sir pointed them out (like I wouldn't notice) and said he had been thinking about making some. (Yeah, because that sounds like a whole world of fun for me and my fellow collared sisters) We decided to head outside for a cigarette, eventually heading upstairs to check it out.

The BDSM area was small with not much equipment. Looking out over the main area, there was a saltire which is like an X with anchor points at all four corners for cuffs or ropes. There was a swing, two beds, a few ropes, two massage tables and one or two leather paddles. The odd bit of suspension equipment hung from the cage (the whole area was in a sort of cage). Next door was a room set up for live video streaming and chat. All in all I was not particularly impressed....but perhaps at the same time relieved. It was afterall a swingers club, not a dungeon.

Sir had me stand on the platform of the saltire for a second. I could tell he was assessing everyone, everything, finding his comfort within the space, trying to find where mine was. I stepped down and Sir walked Kate around explaining pieces of equipment which were of no interest to me. I was interested in the saltire and wishing I had brought my whip....and glad I hadn't.

Kate disappeared into the video room to chat with her husband. I sat up on one of the tables. He ran his hands over my legs, up my thighs (shiver) and down again. I wanted it. I wanted him. Every bit of me that cared about anything else was gone. I wanted what I wanted. I don't remember if we were talking at all. At that moment I no longer cared who was there, who was watching. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to tie me up and spank my arse. I desperately wanted him to rake his nails down my back until I came. I think as Kate got back I stepped back up on the saltire platform, still clothed. He moved to tie my wrists but decided to use the cuffs I had in my handbag instead (every girl should always carry cuffs, a ballgag and her collar wherever she goes). He unwound the paddle thonging from its hook which happened to be right in front of my eyes.

I haven't had one of those used on me before so I wasn't sure what to expect. I was not too sure what to think. It looked ouchies. It wasn't. Actually, I take that back. I reserve my judgement for a later time when I can have it thoroughly used on me.

He tapped it across my face a few times and I started that slow build to bliss where there is no one else, nothing else just the sensations and the words and his eyes. He tapped my arse. He whacked the backs of my calves. I wanted him to let loose. I wanted it harder. I wanted more - much more. I thought I was going to pass out with want. The sound echoed out over the space and I could see something was holding him back. There was something pulling him away from playing. He stepped in close, spoke softly landing the occasional soft whack. He was not comfortable. He stopped and hung the paddle. He bade me cum, until my legs were shaking but he was being so....nice.

He took me down and moved me over to the table where I sat egging him on, begging him for more, begging him to tie me up, to hurt me. He stood firm. Kate was there, somewhere, it didn't matter to me (sorry Kate). All I wanted was to be used.

I have decided I am not an exhibitionist - well a little but not much. I just didn't care. I wanted so badly to be fucked that he could have taken me out to the carpark and fucked me and I would have been happy. The other part of it is pride. I am proud to be with him, to be his. I want people to see it, to hate it, to be jealous, to be horrified, to be fascinated. He told me he could not. He said he was in such a filthy mood that he could not. He would be making me beg and he did not think I was ready for that in such a public setting. That he was making 100% sure that I would not do anything that I would regret.

He bade me cum, sitting there next to Kate, standing back, not touching me. He was just out of arms reach so I was clutching at the wall. My legs were shaking and I was gasping, wanting it, wanting him. He pulled them out of me, close together so that they were crashing over each other without a breath in between. I was there and he was nodding, commanding, quiet and then he was done.

Every pore of my body was screaming for more. I was getting pouty and petulant and sulky - playfully so but the undercurrent was very real. He was immovable. I love that as much as I hate it.

____________________________________________________________


Last night I spoke with him on the phone. He wound me up so tightly it was all I could do to not melt through into cumming. He said no. I was not to cum until 12:01. Four hours! I had to drive to the airport to collect a heartbroken girlfriend. My thoughts of cumming and fucking and him kept me company on the drive. I picked her up and hugged her, dried her tears and made soothing noises as she unburdened herself on the car ride. All the while my imagination was devoted to playing with what he had set up in my head. We got back to her place, smoked and drank coffee until 11. I went to bed and rested fitfully, waiting. My alarm set for midnight, I woke every 5 minutes to check if I had missed it. The alarm went off and at precisely 12:01 I came. Relief.

Kinky Excursion Part One - Discomfort

So I underestimated exactly how much discomfort I would experience when two of the worlds I juggle collided. Quite a bit it turns out. I had arranged with a girlfriend to go to check out a local swingers club to see if it would be a suitable place to take our husbands. Sir decided to chaperon as he deemed it inappropriate for us to go alone. I was thrilled

I was totally excited at the prospect of going out with Sir and Kate, first to dinner and then to the club. Around about 4 hours from meet time I thought about what I was actually doing. Kate is a gorgeous person, a supersmart woman who is trying to understand my brand of kink and exploring her own. Sir...well he is my Sir. How could someone who does not get it, however openminded, possibly be expected to react when confronted with ttwd? While I had asked for, begged for, prayed for best behavior from Sir, the only thing I am assured of is my lack of capacity to predict anything. In that regard he certainly came through.

I spoke with Sir and with Kate and calmed down somewhat but in all of my talking had run out of time to go through the self-waxing procedure I had decided to try. I love going and getting waxed. I have a bit of a 'thing' for my waxing girl (Serbian-Goddess with nipples that beg for teeth...sigh...back in the room...) BUT I decided I would do it myself just because I wanted to see if I could. I got about halfway done (yes I CAN do it - go me) and it was down to the wire. I was going to be running a fine line getting out the door. I had to stop and....shave....eeeeewwwww. I HATE shaving. I should point out for those who have missed it at this point that I am not talking about waxing my legs....mmmmkay? Waxing one leg and not the other would be strange and you would probably feel self conscious going out but it's likely no-one else would notice. Waxing half your cunt...well...I guess if you had done it in such a way that you had a landing strip then you would be fine but probably having one side waxed and the other not would be a somewhat unique look....shaving it was quicker, necessary and I am going to regret it in a week...well half of me will regret it...

Anyway, I dressed-up and make-upped and made the decision to wear some of my favorite (highly impractical) shoes because they are HOT. I was sweating bullets, worried that they would be there first but I arrived dead on, followed by Kate. We sat and chatted while I drank water and tried to swallow my nerves. Kate was just saying to me that she thought it was him behind me but I knew. I could feel him there.

The introduction was interesting. I was some kind of superstar. I seriously should be a professional meet-and-greet-er. "This is my friend Lil or she posts as Kate and um. Yeah which name should I say?" she shrugs and smiles. "Sorry....umm and um, Lil, this is aaaah...this um....this is my Sir. Um...yeah...my Sir...." FUCK I can't even say his FUCKING name. What. The. Fuck. It isn't like I don't know it. Fuck. Kate smiled and laughed. I noticed that he was amused. I think my bashful discomfort amuses him at times. I also noticed that he let "Sir" hang in the air and was not forthcoming with a name.

We tried uncomfortable small talk for a few minutes until it turned into comfortable banter...actually they were comfortable, I was not...even now as I write I feel my face heat with remembering. I turned into this ridiculous, blushing, quiet, giggling, blushing (yes I said it twice but that is because it is not something I do) girl.

The food was good. I didn't feel much like eating, I was too nervous but I listened and relaxed as I ate. Slowly, slowly I started to feel a little less like my chest would explode and my ability to be coherent returned. He was wonderful and funny and charming and honest. He opened doors and pulled out chairs and was the perfect gentleman.

We strolled to the car (my shoes, seriously were made for sitting, not walking). I am complaining but I think the walk was all of 20 meters. Kate came in my car (her husband dropped her off) and Sir went in his. We met up at the club. Sir could see how nervous I was. He stopped me just as we were walking up. "Are you sure you want to do this?" "Yes, Sir." "No. Stop and think about this. Are you sure?" Deep eyelock. My shoulders release, tension gone, "Yes, Sir."

We headed inside and I filled out membership forms. My bid for ease, (emailing to ask under what conditions I am to apply for membership) thwarted by a lack of clarity, so, standing at the front desk with increasing numbers of people waiting to get in, I had to state to three different people that I wanted to apply for membership for myself and my husband but that this was not my husband, this was my Dom and that I had had email confirmation that as long as I didn't come with both of them on the same night then it would be fine to only have one membership...yes, this certainly was an added discomfort I did not need...details sorted, membership granted and we were IN!

Fence Sitting or The Case for the Switch in the Affirmative

So Mick and the Sub-Sisters are at it again. SFP started talking about switching, which lead to Sin talking about switching, which lead to Mick talking about switching. As a bonafide Switch I could not pass the topic by and it has come up a fair bit for me recently.

Let me jump in to explain something first. I am arguably the Merriam Webster poster girl for Fence-Sitting: a state of indecision or neutrality with respect to conflicting positions. I identify as a bisexual, switching, sadist and masochist in an open marriage.

Lets start with Sadist and Masochist.

Well, while I am fairly certain that I could survive without inflicting pain on someone else, would life be as fulfilling? I think not. The power in your touch, in your physical being - that someone is willing to accept it, to take it, to trust you to take them there is nothing short of amazing. The feeling of a human being completely willing to give themselves over to you, to be bound and under your complete direction, to allow you to hurt them, to want you to is just an inspiration.

Why an inspiration? Because for all intents and purposes people have every reason not to trust each other. We are hardwired to recall more clearly every bad experience we have ever had. We are supposed to spend our time looking for danger and protecting ourselves from it. We should be spending our time trying to protect ourselves from hurt, to save ourselves from trusting in someone (both physically and emotionally). The fact that someone can give over so much of themselves amazes me every time; that I am able and willing to surrender that part of myself amazes me also. I do not think I could live without the masochism. I think I would wilt away. The feeling of pain in its varying forms is delicious. Really, how could I choose between the two?

I am married but I choose - we choose - to allow other people into what is presumed to be a sacred act between two married people. For me sex and emotion have never been closely intertwined. Sex is sex and if you have an emotional relationship you do and if you don't you don't. I am not sure why I am wired that way, I just am. I talk with friends frequently and (particularly when I am talking about women I would like to fuck, but men too) I realise I sound...well....like a man. I look objectively at a person, at what I want to take or have taken, my eyes glaze over and I sound like a horny old guy sitting at the bar nursing his eighth whiskey. Pick the one person you can sleep with for the rest of your life....you want me to choose that? Seriously!?

Women, men - really how could I possibly decide? When presented with the prospect of a luscious pair of breasts and a juicy cunt with a perfect little clit to tongue and nibble or a thick hard cock and throbbing balls to ride and suck and tease and pound...Pass me a coin - I can't choose. Yes, I sit neatly and squarely in the middle of the fence.

Women and D/s for me are a different kettle of fish. The relationships I have had with women over the years have been far more balanced. I guess I have a much higher expectation for emotional intimacy in relationships with women. I don't really do high levels of emotional intimacy in my primary relationships. I know that sounds like a really strange thing to say....I guess it works in neatly with the above "sounding like a man" thing. I have had three relationships with women but I find it uncomfortable - that I give over too much of myself. I prefer to keep things purely sexual. As such I have had two significant relationships with women where I was more Dominant and one where we were on even ground. Purely sexual relationships are fun and light, the air passes between us. The relationship relationships are like suffocating fire and ice. All encompassing. I do one of two things, drown or run - so I keep my significant relationships with men where I am safe and controlled.

When I examine the idea of Mistress or sub, I think about my pup in his womens panties (yellow suits him), on his knees after being brought to the brink of cumming for four days with no release. I hear him beg "Mistress please may I cum". His pleading eyes cast down as directed. When I tell him to look up, to look at me, I smile and nod my head and say "yes, pup...cum for me now" and he cums, thanking me. I feel a surge of pride in him and in myself that I have brought this from him. This secret thing that he has kept locked away that he so desperately needed and I cultivate it, refine it, make it shine. That he is happy and fulfilled in his submission makes me happy. That I am happy makes him happy. Perfect circle, akin to nothing. Then I flip and look at myself, bound, gagged, whipped, pleading, begging...I see myself as if outside my body; up on the tips of my toes shaking and cumming until it is too much then being pushed to go once more, a little further, pushing the edges of myself. Offering my body and soul to be to be owned. Blissed in my submission, happy to serve, happy that he is happy that I am happy that he is happy....How could I possibly give up either? How could I possibly choose?

As a switch I do not switch within relationships. For my Sir I am his sub. He is my Sir and that is it. Not that I haven't on the odd occasion said to him "how about I shove that there on you and see how you like it!" Not that a little part of me didn't imagine tying him to the bed the other day during his massage...Neither of us would have it though. It would not give him what he wants or me what I want. I am not after playing at Top and bottom for the afternoon. I want his Domination to be real and enduring. I want my submission to be whole and complete surrender. Not for a minute but for the duration of the relationship. It is much the same in my role as Mistress. I cannot be what pup needs if he sees me for one second as less than his Mistress. Pulling in the reigns of control re-energizes me in much the same way as submitting does. Sometimes it gets hard. Probably not as much hard work as I am for Sir. I have met one or two switches I would play with. I would not consider it even close to a D/s relationship. It would just be play. Like a pleasant evening wrestling for the remote control. I want real D/s not this top bottom fun play. To go where I want to go and to take what I want taken I need real D/s. To me (I concur Sin, SFP) you cannot get that in switching - within a given relationship dynamic. I have thought about how I would feel if Sir had a Domme. The idea makes me laugh a bit. Not in this lifetime. To be honest I don't think he would be the Dom I need if he had that little bit of Switch lurking....

Finally tea and coffee, chocolate and vanilla, day and night, summer and spring. I like both in all cases. They are both fantastic for different, opposing, complementary reasons. You want me to choose to have one and not the other....I just can't. Perhaps it is greedy. Perhaps I should make some firm choices...I want it all - everything.

I have decided I am not a fence- sitter. I have decided to look at myself as an equal opportunist. It just happens that I see everyone as an opportunity!

Much love, JaT