Reporting on Bits and Bobs

I know I have been rather quiet lately. I do hope that this will end shortly, once I am freed from the demands of study. I do not want this blog to disappear, or fade into the obscure ether of the net (and I know my adoring fans don't want it to either).

My date last week was ... okay. We had been exchanging messages online for a while, and some things he said certainly resonated with me, but I had told myself quite firmly to trust my instincts on this one (as they have proved right on every prior occasion despite my best efforts, both to ignore them and try and make it work), and my gut instinct the moment I saw him was a resounding 'no'. It was a good meal, decent conversation, nice date, but beyond that ... neehh. Having missed my bus he offered me a ride home, which I really didn't want to do but I didn't have much of a choice ... wish I hadn't, the ride home was the worst part and would be the sole reason for lack of later contact. But that's neither here nor there.

I have been fretting over what to wear to the fetish ball for a while and have finally settled on the blue gown featured in my very first HNT, though my subconscious came up with a rather interesting alternative last week. I dreamed of going to the ball dressed as a fox furrie, but not in the traditional all-concealing fur-suit. Nope, all I was wearing were knickers with attached tail, shoe-paws, ears, and body paint. It's something that I would really like to try some time, but for this event I don't have the supplies or the prep time (or the confidence!). My furrie inclinations are not something that get much exercise, given the negligibly small local community, but I am determined to make a couple of suits and have some fun with it. BDSM is my life, but fur is fun.

I am getting exponentially more excited the closer I get to flying out to Southern Exposure. I have been largely trying to just not think about it to keep it from interfering with other work that needs doing, but I don't think I can stop it now! I have one more exam tomorrow, then I have to run for a bus, grab luggage and I'm immediately off to the airport!

I'm going to Southern Exposure!

Exhaustion

No, unfortunately this is NOT a kinky dirty sexy post. In fact it pretty much follows the general theme lately.

Exams are upon me, and after spending the semester cramming assignments around shortened me-time I am now considerably behind, so am running myself ragged trying to read everything I'm meant to read and do all the tutorials in time. I have ideas, but no energy or drive to write them.

Two weeks and it will be over. And then I will also be back from Southern Exposure with lots of juicy kinky stories to tell you all! Flying out hours after my last exam, and so excited.

Oh, and I have a date tomorrow night with someone I met on Fetlife. Wish me luck. (I'm so nervous.)

Fear

The horrible week is finally over. There is still the not-quite-so-horrible week to go, and then exams, but after that, I hope to just relax for a while and cruise. And that should mean a lot more posts, hopefully.

So, a friend of mine sent me a writing prompt in response to my last post: What is my scariest experience in BDSM.

This is a difficult question for me to answer, because while there is fear, I don't remember it. It tends to get drowned out by the thrill and the later euphoria.

For example, I was scared when, at a play party, my Master of the time pushed me against the host's fridge with her standing there watching (damn that thing was cold), and proceeded to thrash me with the flogger she had loaned him. But I was excited too. I've always had a fear of floggers (and canes too for that matter, but I have yet to experience one), because they are designed and used to inflict pain, and with my low pain tolerance it can quickly become overwhelming. But I trusted him, and while it hurt, he didn't push me past my limit. Knowing that he wouldn't, trusting that any dom I've been with wouldn't, has been what's tempered my fear and made it the minor emotion.

No, the scariest experience I've had I don't even think of as BDSM any more. It was abuse, plain and simple.

He struck me across the face. Then I was terrified, because I didn't know what else he would do. I was desperate not to anger him again, and I then went further than I ever should have, had already gone further than I should have. He didn't hit me that hard, but there was no warning, no negotiation, no consent. It was no longer and never was BDSM, simply abuse.

And if I ever see him again I don't know if I'll go crazy and smack him silly or just break down in tears. I'm still scared that he'll turn up to a local munch one day.

That there is bad fear. The good fear, the thrilling fear, that fades quickly as you sink into the pure sensation, I hope will never reach that intensity.


EDIT
I'm wrong, there was another really scary experience that I was reminded of tonight.

I had been tied quite thoroughly spread eagle, I was blindfolded, and next thing he was slicing away my clothes with a knife while whispering all sorts of awful things to me. Total mind fuck.

HNT: Under the whip

While this particular whip is no longer being used on me, I'd much rather face it at full force right now than deal with everything else that's happening lately. For the next few weeks, I really will be under the proverbial whip, and stressed to the max with no definite relief in sight. Hopefully I can keep up a few posts over that time.






Maybe what I need is suggestions to keep me writing and HNTing?



HHNT everyone.

Perfection, Expectations and Pain

There's a lot of Masters who put high demands on slaves. Confliction over whether I can meet these demands frequently makes me upset, and hurts me deeper and longer than a whipping. Yet these are often silly demands, completely rediculous to be expected of me by these people who don't even know me.

So many Masters have told me that if I am going to submit, that I have to do it all at once, that the last choice I make is going to be in submitting to them and afterwards every single decision is to be theirs, and I must simply trust them to decide what is best for me. I think this is not only foolishness, but absolute stupidity. How can they possibly know what is best for me when they barely know me?

There are many shades of grey in submission, and varying levels of trust, not the black and white they would have me believe. To throw myself blindly and fully trusting into their clutches is just asking for heartache and quite possibly injury, yet this is what I am repeatedly told I must do.

What utter nonsense.

There are great depths to who I am that not even my longest lasting Master reached in the years we were together, and these people who don't even have a clue think that they can Master me?

Why the heck do I keep letting these idiots berate me?

Just because I'm not going to leap head first into water that may be far too shallow does not mean I'm going to always be alone, I am not the sole cause of a relationship failure and I do not make myself miserable on purpose, and I'm tired of hearing from these jackasses that I do.

I think I've run out of steam for this rambling rant now.

HNT: Bared

Well ... I had a request for nipples a couple weeks ago.

So here you go.

Happy HNT you perverts. : )

Can't Stop the Rhythm

... And of course, now that I have written that title I have 'Can't stop the Moonlight' playing in my head.

Last week I received a 2 CD set of belly dance music I had ordered online. Belly dancing is something I have been interested in for a very long time, but I've always been too shy/demotivated/poor to really get into it. I have a coin belt, and I attended a few classes with a friend, but beyond that I haven't done much with it.

This purchase was hopefully the first step in remedying that. Eventually I'll get some tutorial dvds, and with practice I hope to not be so shy about dancing in front of people. Because damn, I so want to.

Last friday being the last day of my holidays, I ripped the package open as soon as I had the house to myself and popped it on. I was uncertain about it at first, some of the songs have an odd structure to them, and can be quite repetitive with the instruments used, but regardless it wasn't long before I was squirming in my seat, moving in time to the music, just picturing what I could do with it.

I saw a large room with the floor cleared, encircled by chairs filled by Masters, a few with their own slaves at foot. I'd be dressed in billowing chiffon, just see-through enough to really tease as I turned, adorned with fine gold chains and the ringing coins and bells, every move creating its own music as I danced for these men, writhing passionately beneath their hungry gaze, to drive them crazy enough to reach for me, even before the music had stopped. With the fantasy as motivation and unable to keep still with the music playing, I dug out my coin belt.

There were no fantasies as I danced though, just pure practice, what I could remember of the very basic drills, but after a minute of undulations I was exhausted. It made clear to me just how very, very far I have to go before my vision has a hope of coming true. This isn't really helped by the fact that I only feel secure enough to practice when I'm alone with no chance of interruption, and that is not going to happen consistently for a long time.

But here's to hoping, and dreaming.