Jul 302014
 

sexy cheetahsI’ve been remiss in not talking about the sex.

I guess it’s breakup sex. Pre-breakup sex? I’m not sure.

Anyway, it’s really, really good sex.

The other day, when I said we were just hitting our stride in the bedroom — I was incorrect. If we’re borrowing running/race metaphors here, then the more accurate description might be:

We’re like horny cheetahs… in a decathlon… with dildos.

I don’t know. I’m not good with metaphors.

It’s definitely marathon sex, but with lots of different events, and also,
I finish more often than once every three hours. ;)

My metaphors are bad, but the sex is good.

More details to follow… after I get some rest and rehydration.

 

 

Jul 262014
 

submissive bdsm collar

His collar.   My collar.   Our collar.

o ring flourish
I don’t collect mementos. I don’t have folders of old love letters, boxes of souvenirs, or curios full of keepsakes.

I don’t like clutter in my physical environment and I don’t like clutter in my head. Keeping my surroundings simple is easy, but my brain is a different story — it’s a constant struggle to simplify, prioritize, and focus. Because there’s so much going on in my head about the present and the future, I don’t have the energy or the mental space to deal with junk from the past.

For that reason, I don’t want lots of tangible reminders of old thoughts and feelings, particularly not for those that aren’t worth remembering. Those sorts of mementos serve only to agitate mental and emotional detritus that settled long ago.

I don’t deny the existence of people, events, and times in my life, but I prefer to let those memories rest where they lie — I have no desire to disturb them.

I have a few mementos that evoke thoughts and feelings worth revisiting — among them, my father’s guitar, my grandmother’s cast iron skillet, and my well-worn canvas backpack. They’re only objects (of course), but they’re important to me for the memories they inspire, the people they call to mind, and the experiences that shaped me. They are well-kept and used often (when possible), not simply out of sentimentality, but also out of respect — for what they were, what they are, and what they’ve contributed to making me who I am.

bdsm submissive collar

I thought about throwing J’s collar away, but that felt disrespectful (to J? to us? to the collar? I’m not sure). Keeping it buried in a drawer somewhere didn’t feel right either — it felt too much like suspended animation, as if the collar (and I) would sit waiting for the return of its wearer. I don’t want to give it to J — it won’t be ‘his collar’ (nor will it be mine) after we split, when I am no longer his dominant and he is no longer my submissive.

Instead of any of those options, I’m repurposing J’s collar in a way that feels respectful and appropriately sentimental, but also in a way that recognizes the impending split and acknowledges that we’ll both be moving forward… separately.

…and also in a way that leaves room for the possibility of flights and happy visits.
…and also in a way that softly clings to the fantasy that somewhere down the road, we might find each other again.

o ring flourish
A reader comment on my past post made me feel a little defensive — I wondered if I was being silly in my want to hold onto J’s collar. Maybe my preoccupation with finding some way to repurpose it was (is) a distraction — a project on which to focus my energy to avoid feeling sad, angry, and helpless.

The latter is okay, but not the former. I’d like to think I’m not overly sentimental, especially about material things.

Your responses made me feel a bit better, (or at least not so silly in my sentimentality). Chaos wished she had kept the collar she made for her former boy, and Heather kept her collars against her former dominant’s wishes.

So now I’m curious about what others have done with collars after D/s relationship break ups… so tell me…

What have you done (or what would you do) with a collar from a dissolved D/s relationship?

† No, I don’t keep a shrine to J’s collar… I just thought it looked nice… all artsy and meaningful-like, right? Also, do you know how hard it is to photograph a collar without someone in it? It’s completely shapeless…
‡ Dissolved… and/or failed, broken, fizzled-out, dead, imploded, concluded, or otherwise ended.
Jul 232014
 

semiotics

Almost three years ago, I made J a collar.

I don’t know why I made it — I knew I’d never be able to give it to him. It felt too symbolic, too laden with meaning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for meaning, but it has to be organic. Giving J a collar I made with my own two hands seemed like artificially ascribing meaning to an object it wouldn’t otherwise have. It felt like forced symbolism — because the signifier was manufactured and artificially imbued, and because the signified concept wasn’t even possible.

But I made it. He never knew it existed until he stumbled onto my blog and read about it. It’s not something I ever mentioned, nor did he, until recently.

He asked for it — not his play collar, but the one I made for him.

I was wondering if you might consider letting me wear the collar you made for me the next time I see you. I understand if you wont, but I thought I’d ask.

I refused. I can’t give it to him. I don’t want him to wear it — I don’t even want him to see it.

It isn’t his. It’s not even mine, really. It’s just a scrap of leather on which I etched my mistaken understandings and misguided wishes.

If he put it on, then it would become something more than it is, and I wouldn’t know what to do with it when he leaves.

I’m not even sure I’ll know what to do with myself when he leaves.

o ring flourish

Besides that, J has a collar.

I bought one at my local fetish stop (Fetish Factory) around the same time I bought a bunch of other stuff — a leather corset, a beautiful leather, lace-up hood, nipple clamps, cock rings…

That collar — our play collar — is my collar.

It’s not ideal. It’s a bit too fetishy for my liking — it has three rings when I’d prefer only one, and it’s too wide to be comfortable for him. Besides that, it’s almost too small — it might be a women’s collar (is there such a thing?), or perhaps J has a particularly thick neck — I’m not sure. I have to fasten it on the last hole and even then, sometimes it seems too snug for him.

But with all of that — or perhaps because of it — it’s perfect.

It’s the collar he’s worn when he’s in my reach, under my hands, and in my control… and I adore it. It’s wildly imperfect and anything but ideal, but it’s ours.o ring flourish

When J asked for the collar I made, it got me thinking: What will I do with his collar now that he’s leaving?

I’ll never lock it around another man’s throat. But if I keep his collar, it will feel too much like I’m waiting for him to come back — and I’m not going to do that. We may see each other again, but he won’t come back to me… not for good.

I don’t want him to have it either, because after J is gone, he won’t really be mine anymore. It’s bad enough he’s taking a piece of me with him when he goes — he doesn’t get my collar too.

bolt cutters over heartI’ve been thinking about what to do with it for a while (longer than I’d like to admit), and I finally figured it out. I know exactly what I’ll do with J’s collar now that he’s leaving.

I can’t say it here — not now — I want J to be the first to know.

For now, I’ll say that what I’m going to do with J’s collar is sweet, symbolic, and beautifully flawed… just like we are.

I hope he likes the idea as much as I do.


Composite based on: 1) “HKP Bolt Cutter” by M338, (2009). Work released into the public domain. 2) “Love Heart SVG” by Bubinator, (2007). Work released into the public domain.
Jul 212014
 
We should go out and do something, but not sure what.
dd chat icon
How about Hard Rock?
j chat icon
The Hard Rock… Casino? *confused* What for?.
dd chat icon
You said you always wanted to go.
j chat icon
No I didn’t. I never said I wanted to go to the Hard Rock.
dd chat icon
You did! You said you wanted to go to the casino.
j chat icon

Casino?! That wasn’t me. Maybe you’re thinking of a conversation with some other woman. *smile*

I wouldn’t have said that — I’m not into gambling.
dd chat icon
Exactly! That’s why I remember it — because it was an odd thing for you to say.
j chat icon
Your memory is off. I never said I want to go to a casino.
dd chat icon
You did.
j chat icon

Hold on a minute. Not even an hour ago, I mentioned something from a conversation we had three years ago — a tiny, insignificant detail (from three years ago!) — because I have a spectacular memory.

You don’t — you forget stuff we talk about all the time.
dd chat icon
*frown*
j chat icon
It’s okay… you don’t need to have a good memory because I do. We balance each other out that way — I make up for your forgetfulness by remembering everything. *smile*
dd chat icon
Everything? *laugh* Your memory isn’t perfect.
j chat icon
You’re right. It’s not perfect… it’s better than perfect.
dd chat icon
*confused*..
j chat icon
I remember things in our relationship that didn’t even happen…
dd chat icon
……..……..
j chat icon

 


thumbnail image: “Elephant Memory Systems” by Alan Levine, (2012). Work licensed under a Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0). [modifications from original: removed background]
Jul 152014
 

Dammit. I feel like we’re just hitting our stride in the bedroom.do all the sex things

We’ve been fucking for over three years, but because we’re in a driving distance relationship, we haven’t had the opportunity to fuck as often as other couples. While some relationships hit the ‘boring sex rut’ around this time, we’re just now getting good at fucking. It was always good (we always had the chemistry), but now it’s mind-blowingly good… all the time.

pinball brain on hiatus

In part, it’s because I’m way less in my head than I’ve ever been. J’s leaving, so I don’t have the time or the energy to overthink things. It’s a slight variation on ‘not giving a fuck’… because it’s now or never.

emotional distraction

And while I’m less ‘in my head’ in an overthinky sort of way, I’m not in a great place emotionally. As the clock winds down on our relationship, I’m alternately sad, angry, happy, grateful, pensive, numb, [insert any random emotion here], and as I already (and accidentally) discovered, I’m less inhibited and more likely to orgasm when I’m unhappy or otherwise distracted (or preoccupied by feelings that don’t leave much mental or emotional space for anything else).

Apparently, I’m less inhibited and more likely to orgasm when I’m unhappy…

do all the things

In part, the sex is mind-blowing because I want to do ALL THE SEX THINGS while I still have the opportunity to do them with J. He’s safe, supportive, eager, and game for almost anything. To his immense credit, he’s an excellent sport — he’s been so good about not making me feel silly, and he’s been more-than-willing to try anything and everything on my ‘to do’ list.

To my credit, he seems to be enjoying things. I’m not good at all the sex things, but I know his body and his mind well enough to twist him into knots when I want to. :)

One of the things I’m still not good at is maintaining any sort of ‘domme demeanor’ when I’m nearing orgasm.

In my head, when I fantasize about a dominant woman (me) riding a submissive man’s face (his), I imagine her (me) saying: “you’d better make me come, slut,” or “lap it up, fucktoy,” or “harder… faster… come on bitch… I’m not getting off (your face) until I get off… twice.”

But despite my want, my will, and significant practice, I can’t seem to be verbally demanding (or commanding) when I’m receiving oral sex.

J deserves a medal for not bursting into laughter a few nights ago.

I was physically demanding (I rode his face so fucking hard), but I was the exact opposite of verbally commanding. I was apologetic — all I could say was “I’m sorry… oh god… I’m sorry… oh… oh god… I’m sorry. Oh… I’m hurting you… fuck… I’m sorry… fuuuuck.”

While I couldn’t help but grind on his face as if my life depended on it, I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about the strain I was putting on his neck (a fluttering tongue doesn’t do it for me — I need lots of pressure). Apparently, I was concerned about hurting him enough to apologize for it, but not enough to back off.

He was fine, of course, but he couldn’t tell me in the moment because his mouth was otherwise engaged. ;)

(Good boy.)