HNT: Back, and in Black

It's way past time I started this again. I have a huge selection of lingerie, and a huge selection of photos of me posing in said lingerie in a variety of positions with varying levels of dodginess. I hardly have an excuse to deprive you good people, but doesn't it make it so sweet when I feel like posting again.

In fact, maybe I should start posting several photos at once in order to show off a wider range of half-nekkidness.

HHNT everyone.

SQUEE! I got Fleshbotted!

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Morning Bliss

I set the book on my dresser, finished. It's the Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, and while the last few chapters aren't particularly erotic, for me at least, I tentatively reach down to have a fondle of my clitoris. There's no underwear, I gave up wearing underwear to bed a few months ago for health and comfort reasons (it is apparently a very good idea to let genitalia breathe), and I'm not quite used to it yet, but after fiddling with the button for a bit I reach down to see how wet I am.

Oh I'm very wet. I smear the juices up and down for a bit, spreading it over my clit, before sinking a finger deep inside myself. Very, very wet, that was too easy, so a second finger goes in, and I push hard in just the right spot and I instantly orgasm.

It's the holidays for me so I have the house to myself, I could play without fear of my noise attracting unwanted attention, and I thought it was about time I got out my vibrator again. It has been a long time since I last used it, since well before we moved actually, perhaps even a whole year since I used it alone on myself, though it got some exercise at the weekend away. So I get up and go wash my hands (very, VERY wet), shed my nightgown and pull out vibrator and batteries. I'd only recently learned the trick of keeping the batteries out when it was idle, though I can't think why I hadn't thought of it myself, and as I tested the strength I'm very glad I learned it as it's running as strong as though the batteries were fresh.

Its a very simple vibrator, my first and only, not so long and not so thick, not waterproof, with a simple twisting knob on the top to alter speed, smooth and straight. They're probably $20-30, but it serves me well enough.

So I lay down, spread my legs wide and gently rub the tip over my clit. For now it's off, just letting it slide over my flesh, getting it nice and slick in my own lube, imagining a man pinning me down, teasing me with his cock in such a way, then I lower it and slide it inside quick. Oooh it's been too long since I had something inside me.

I keep jostling the knob so it turns on, but for now I want it off, just feeling it slipping in and out of me, pressing deep. Soon enough I turn up the vibrations, low at first, sliding it out a couple of times to run it over my clit, before turning it up high and ramming it in. I'm crying out as I cum over and over, clutching wildly at my pillow, at my headboard, writhing and thrusting my hips against an imaginary lover. I cannot contain my cries, nor do I want to, and I've long ago given up counting orgasms, as I normally lose count in the high twenties, and I'm probably already nearing that number.

I grasp my left breast, tweaking the nipple briefly before pinching it as hard as I can as the vibrator moves vigorously in and out. I can just imagine lips and teeth there, tasting, biting. I pause for a quick breather before assaulting the other breast, the same images flashing behind half-closed eyes, then the vibrator is out and just brushing the tips of my nipples on its highest setting, and I shiver.

Its back at my cunt in moments, turning the setting down, teasing just at the entrance, probing just inside. I can feel the liquid running down the crack of my ass. Would a Master enjoy tormenting me this way? Would he like to hear me beg to have him inside me? To take me, rape me as he willed? I thrust it deep, there's an edge of pain, but I want it. I push hard and fast, writhing as I claw at the bed with my free hand, the twinge of pain telling me he wants me, he will take me as he pleases, and right now that is roughly and desperately.

I am going like this for some time, round after round with only brief breathers, altering the setting or almost withdrawing. Time has no meaning as I abandon myself to my own pleasure. I think of my Master coming upon me like this, pleasuring myself so shamelessly, striding over to me and wrenching the vibrator from my hand, throwing it to the floor so he may thrust himself into me and have his own way with me. Or perhaps he will pin my hands, taking me even more violently with the vibrator than I have myself before finally impaling me with his cock.

I'm starting to get a bit raw now, and I reach to turn it down and finish. Here's how well I know my own toy - I turned the knob the wrong way, right up to full, and after that I couldn't stop, but had to ride out yet another round of writhing orgasms.

Slowly I withdraw it and turn it down. There's sticky stuff all over it, right up to the adjustment knob, but I don't want to get up and wash it just yet, so I prop it up where it won't slick up anything else and I collapse back on the bed.

Here's a quirk to my masturbation. I might be able to orgasm as many times with a vibrator as with a play partner, but not as deeply nor as long, nor as satisfyingly. To do that I must use my hands, through cloth to let the texture abrade my flesh and bunch over my clit, but I only get one when I do, and that's how I finish when I use the vibrator.

A fresh pair of knickers from the laundry pile is spread over my cunt and my hand over it, rubbing gently at first. I'm still tired, but determined to finish with one last big one. I clutch my pillow to my front, the fabric rubbing my nipples, clutching with my thighs as though it were a set of hips that was grinding against me. My head falls back and my back arcs so I'm right off the bed, and I think of Him, where ever and who ever he may be. I think of him spreading my legs forcefully and leaning down to press his body against mine, of him grasping my hair and turning my head so he may bite my neck where I can almost feel the collar, sucking at my nipples and kissing me violently as he thrusts into me. It's not quite enough, so I dream further. He leans down and whispers in my ear what a hot and wet little slut I am, that I am his, and that I'm going to cum for him. It's a trick that works almost every time, and I can feel that steep peak building, moaning as I imagine him thrusting harder, faster, as my hand works furiously, and then I explode with a scream.

I stretch out languidly on the bed, still trembling, and am thankful that my window faces in the opposite direction to our neighbour's house.

And now after washing and putting away my toy and sitting here in my knickers and dressing gown to write this post, its about time I went and got ... lunch, since it's now well past breakfast time.

'Gorean' Society

The vast, vast majority of Goreans suck.

I mean it. A huge number of them are pretentious, snobbish, disrespectful, abusive 'one-true-way'ers who can smile sweetly while reaching inside, ripping your heart out and eating it beating. And I'm talking about free and slave alike. There's a limited number of Gorean groups on FetLife (if you don't know it, and are kinky, go check it out), and I just left one because of the above behaviour. It dominates the online forums and chat rooms which I frequent, and searching for the gems among the grit is hard work. But they are there.

Gor attracts an unfortunately higher percentage of abusers because of the way the wider society is structured. If you can quote it from the books, then pretty much, save for actually killing people, anything goes. The problem is Norman appears to contradict himself frequently on a wide range of topics that are fundamental to Gorean philosophy. You really have to read and absorb every single word to get the whole picture. Yes, slaves were regarded as animals, rightless, open to all sorts of abuse and carelessness, and yes, even death. But slaves were not expendable. Despite the focus of the books on slavery, slaves were actually quite rare on Gor (this is mentioned several times, though you wouldn't be able to tell from everything else that was written), there was a much higher ratio of masters to slaves on Gor, so they were viewed as rare and valuable. Men would fight over them. Some men would have chains of pretty slaves simply as a status symbol, like driving a Porsche, even if they didn't do anything more with them than show them off in public.

Yet frequently through the books there is mention of love slaves. They are never killed, though they may be sold because of anger or such. They have the highest demands set on them, but are also loved, and cared for. Abusive Masters aren't looking for their love slave though, they're just after fresh punching bags, or someone to satisfy their selfish wants. Unfortunately Gor also has plenty of girls who would take it, out of desperation, or just because they didn't know any better.

Then of course there are those who have read all the books, who have set up their own websites, have gathered all the quotes they want, and proclaim themselves Twoo Masters of the Gorean way. Disagree with them, and you are not Gorean, no matter the supporting quotes you dig up or the impact it can have on life here on Earth. I've found that slaves are the worst offenders in this regard.

Yet the real, beating, life-giving heart of Gorean society is something completely different. Here, slavery is built on love, devotion, and trust, on both sides. A slave may have to jump when told and do just as the Master says, but as his most precious and cherished possession she is never injured, and is cared for meticulously, well beyond the level of a favoured pet as mentioned in the books. These are the love slaves and their Masters, a slavery which is quoted as being far more strict and exacting, a much harsher slavery than any other. Yet here is love, and with love, the weight of a collar, no matter how heavy, becomes nothing at all.

This is the life I hope to one day be a part of, rather than glimpsing it at a distance.

I Broke My Fantasy Muscle

You know what's worse than not feeling like masturbating?

Masturbating for two hours and not getting anywhere.

It must say something about my psyche that, even in my fantasies, when I'm desperately trying to get off, my fantasy Master often gets angry and abusive and my mood fizzles out. Says something certainly, but nothing good. Now they're even becoming disinterested.

How's that for depressing.

I need to start reading more erotica.

But hey, I'm posting more.

Take A Look In The Mirror

It is incredibly important for people to know themselves, really know themselves. Its even more important for this to be the case in BDSM, because if they don't, its not just stressful, or maybe hurtful, its dangerous.

I try to do a measure of soul-searching frequently. Before every play I pause and look, just to be absolutely sure I am comfortable. For a sub to not be comfortable can lead to an awkward situation at best, and broken hearts and damaged mindsets at worst. For a dom though? He can murmur all the sweet nothings he likes, but if they aren't aware of what they are doing and why, they can carve deep wounds in flesh and spirit that never heal.

Just because I give my consent for one aspect of play, it should never be assumed that I give consent for another that a dom just happens to be used to incorporating into all their play, or which they like and are unwilling to give up or put on pause for any reason. I am quite vocal about my low pain tolerance and sensitivity, and to have that ignored, brushed aside, or blatantly disregarded, is hurtful on so many levels.

One Master I was slave to in Gor rp was particularly good at that. No one should ever belittle the psychological pain of a cyber whipping, and he beat me often, for as little a reason as looking in the wrong direction. Despite denying that he was a sadist, frequently and vehemently, he most definitely enjoyed inflicting pain on me. *pain* Oh no, of course I'm not a sadist *pain* You need this, you know *pain pain* I do it just for discipline *pain pain pain* You brought this on yourself of course *PAIN* Even though it was maybe just a tiny mistake, I was just looking for an excuse to 'bring you back in line' *PAIN*

Never, ever again.

I have been hurt quite often enough because the doms I associated with were just not honest, with themselves or anyone else. If I catch so much as a whiff of the same behaviour now, I run, far and fast, and do not look back.

Round and Round the Merry-Go-Round

I've had a go at starting a few posts in the past couple of weeks, but they've not been finished. Perhaps later I will finish them, but not now, since they are filled with the depression and self-doubt I've been feeling lately. (Also the reason why no HNT last week, and iffy about this week right now.)

I am considered a needy slave. In that I need a measure of stability, affection, care and time. Apparently this is demanding. And don't even think of saying that they're pushing too hard or are doing something abusive, because then you're being bratty and whiny.

Bah, jerks.

On a slightly lighter note, I went to a shibari party hosted by a couple of new friends on Sunday. Despite being in the scene a few years this was something new for me. I'd been to play parties before, but not specfically a shibari party.

Despite arriving late, I, Dee and Kiana were the first ones there. Velvet Steel, the hosting dom, has a most impressive 'black room', with a dresser and wardrobe full of toys and kinky books and a bed with more eyehooks and hardpoints than I've ever seen in a single room.

Things were a bit slow to start up, probably because he was the only dom with four subs around. It was some time before any others showed up, and by then he had tied and/or fondled all the others save me, and he seemed disinclined to do so. It did a real number on my ego and hurt far more than it really should have. Yet when he did eventually turn the rope on me I was not pleased. My wrists still hurt. He might claim to like pain just to see us squirm, but he's fooling himself, and I doubt I'll let him touch me again.

Kiana did a very artsy chest harness on me, which I hope to get photos of soon. She's very neat with her ropework, which despite her being sub will serve her well when she gets into kinky photography (its blogged now Kiana, you have to do it!).

Another dom there (whom I have yet to think of a nickname for) tied me wrists to ankles, secured at either end of a spreader bar. He had a lot of fun with me trussed up like that, and so did I, despite having to safeword out once when he hit me waaaay too hard (everyone over-estimates my pain tolerance). I hope I get to play with him again!

And I'm already craving rope and chains and submission again. Woe.