Well, been a long damn time since I posted anything. Fuck life has been busy. So much has been going on I didnt realize how long it had been since I last posted. Let me just say that in life, you truly know who your friends are and the ones who care about you. I learned a long time ago that people are like a revolving door. They will come and go in your life. In today and gone tomorrow. Friends however are the ones who come in, shut the door and lock it. Doesnt matter if it is a porblem of just life in general. Friends stick by you and understand. A long time ago I was the type who would chase after something. I would persue and follow until... until it got ugly. Today, I will persue and chase, but I am more quick to read between the lines and know when to back off. If I put the ball in your court, I will expect something in return.
I say this because I am tired of that fucking revolving door. I am tired of people coming and going. I am fucking tired of it. I am not attempting to cause drama with this. I am stating a fact about me and how I feel. Dont like how I feel, then fuck you very much. Last I checked I live my life for me. I dont live it for anyone else. Right now I sense a lot of red faces and clenched teeth. Do I feel sorry for what I have said? Not one bit. Do I regret saying it? Hell no. Will I change? Are you out of your fucking mind? I am me. Take it or leave it. Do you think you can change me? HA!!!!! Anyone who truly knows me, knows this. I say it like I see it. I call a spade a spade.
Fucking life is life people. Choose to accept what happens.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
When a submissive has had enough.
So the past few weeks have been extremely busy at work and at home and I really haven't had a chance to post about something in the lifestyle. So I will give it a whirl today and see if I can energize you.
I have been asked before, "How do you know when a submissive has had enough in a scene?" Well, there are many variables to consider when scening with someone. Body language never lies. Let me give you an example or two. If I have a submissive over my knee and I am giving her a bare handed spanking, I will vary the areas I spank. Trying to avoid the same area with consecutive swats. I always feel for body tensing, relaxing, jerking etc. If the submissive is clenching their ass cheeks together, that is a good sign. Means they can still feel it. They are expecting a swat. Check the heat radiating from their skin every so often. The hotter it is, the more then skin is stinging. If the skin is cold, there is no blood circulation. And I am not talking about it being cold because they have been sitting on ice or the room is cold. Gently touch the skin. I am constantly checking for welts. Looking for broken skin. If I see a welt that is purple, then I will avoid it. There is blood under the skin. If a sub can take it until I am welted her entire ass, I will then stop. No use in causing more harm. And yes I have ended a scene or two because of that. Watch and feel the body language. If your sub is gagged, they can not use a safe word. If the body goes limp, typically they have zoned out or gone into subspace. Listen for sobs. Listen for the sniffles.
If I have a sub bound to a cross, or whipping bench or some other object, I will check the sub more often then when they are across my knee. I am unable to feel the twitches in their body or skin. Seeing is always believing. Watching their reaction is always a good sign of more or not. But sometimes, you have to physically touch them. Maybe whisper into their ear. If using a flogger, make sure to not wrap the flogger and hit some place you shouldn't like their face or eyes. Avoid the kidney area if possible. A swat here and there is fine. but don't concentrate on that all the time. If all else fails use common sense.
Of course all of this is dependent on the prenegotiation between me and the sub. Sometimes it is a quick spanking lasting 20-30 mins or an intense flogging that leaves me dripping in sweat. Only once have I had a sub truly safe word out. I have had a few that have used a safe word after the 3 or 4th swat. Those don't count. I'm not bragging saying I am the best because I know there are others out there who will disagree with me. My point is, I am constantly analyzing the scene, the submissive, myself and everything else around me. If I am in a public setting carrying out a scene, do NOT disturb me unless you are stopping me. I need concentration on what I am doing and who I am doing it with. interrupting me to comment or compliment on something can wait until I am finished. Most often if you interrupt me or someone else in a scene without provocation, you will get a dirty look either from the Dom or sub, if not both. If you are watching me carry out a scene and you are not involved, then be quiet and be still.
These are just a few things I am always looking for. If you are exercising common sense, then things should be ok. If you are acting in a wreckless manner, someone could and will get hurt.
My final thought is this. Always be aware of whats going on. Don't just step up and swat swat swat away for the hell of it. know what you are doing or what you are taking, Know what your limits are. Know what the other parties limits are. If you don't know how to pick up on body language, then be patient. Take your time and observe. Don't be abusive. If you are unsure, then speak up. Ask for advice or help. The only stupid question is the one you DON'T ask.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
I have been asked before, "How do you know when a submissive has had enough in a scene?" Well, there are many variables to consider when scening with someone. Body language never lies. Let me give you an example or two. If I have a submissive over my knee and I am giving her a bare handed spanking, I will vary the areas I spank. Trying to avoid the same area with consecutive swats. I always feel for body tensing, relaxing, jerking etc. If the submissive is clenching their ass cheeks together, that is a good sign. Means they can still feel it. They are expecting a swat. Check the heat radiating from their skin every so often. The hotter it is, the more then skin is stinging. If the skin is cold, there is no blood circulation. And I am not talking about it being cold because they have been sitting on ice or the room is cold. Gently touch the skin. I am constantly checking for welts. Looking for broken skin. If I see a welt that is purple, then I will avoid it. There is blood under the skin. If a sub can take it until I am welted her entire ass, I will then stop. No use in causing more harm. And yes I have ended a scene or two because of that. Watch and feel the body language. If your sub is gagged, they can not use a safe word. If the body goes limp, typically they have zoned out or gone into subspace. Listen for sobs. Listen for the sniffles.
If I have a sub bound to a cross, or whipping bench or some other object, I will check the sub more often then when they are across my knee. I am unable to feel the twitches in their body or skin. Seeing is always believing. Watching their reaction is always a good sign of more or not. But sometimes, you have to physically touch them. Maybe whisper into their ear. If using a flogger, make sure to not wrap the flogger and hit some place you shouldn't like their face or eyes. Avoid the kidney area if possible. A swat here and there is fine. but don't concentrate on that all the time. If all else fails use common sense.
Of course all of this is dependent on the prenegotiation between me and the sub. Sometimes it is a quick spanking lasting 20-30 mins or an intense flogging that leaves me dripping in sweat. Only once have I had a sub truly safe word out. I have had a few that have used a safe word after the 3 or 4th swat. Those don't count. I'm not bragging saying I am the best because I know there are others out there who will disagree with me. My point is, I am constantly analyzing the scene, the submissive, myself and everything else around me. If I am in a public setting carrying out a scene, do NOT disturb me unless you are stopping me. I need concentration on what I am doing and who I am doing it with. interrupting me to comment or compliment on something can wait until I am finished. Most often if you interrupt me or someone else in a scene without provocation, you will get a dirty look either from the Dom or sub, if not both. If you are watching me carry out a scene and you are not involved, then be quiet and be still.
These are just a few things I am always looking for. If you are exercising common sense, then things should be ok. If you are acting in a wreckless manner, someone could and will get hurt.
My final thought is this. Always be aware of whats going on. Don't just step up and swat swat swat away for the hell of it. know what you are doing or what you are taking, Know what your limits are. Know what the other parties limits are. If you don't know how to pick up on body language, then be patient. Take your time and observe. Don't be abusive. If you are unsure, then speak up. Ask for advice or help. The only stupid question is the one you DON'T ask.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The 2 darkest nights in my life.
The past few days I have spent a lot of time reflecting on my past. Yesterday I wrote about a friend of mine. Thank you all for your kind words and offers of support. As usual though, no one posted anything here. I'm starting to think no one reads this blog. Anyhow, I am not going to step on my soap box. A few of you have expressed how I keep things inside me. I am a tough read. I am a secretive person. Well allow me to tell you a little about my past.
My mom and dad married young and before I was 2, they divorced. I never knew my dad. The only relationship I had was the monthly child support check mailed in. My mom remarried when I was 6. He was a local police officer. My sister came less then a year later. We moved about 6 or 7 times between the age of 6 and 13. When I was 12 we had one of the worst winters on record where I am from. The month of January, I spent most of the month home since schools were closed. On Jan 20, we had the coldest night in history. 24 below. That January I truly bonded with my step dad. The previous years we never really spent a lot of time together. We went to football games, or fishing, but 3 or 4 hours together every once and awhile just wasn't cutting it. He was always supportive when I played sports. Always making sure he was there when he was on duty. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a bad guy. We just never had time together. A couple of nights later, while outside playing with the kids in the neighborhood, I was blindsided by a snowball thrown by my dad. A brief snowball fight was ended when I threw one and nailed him in the nuts. After we laughed and wrestled a little, we made our way home. He told me he would be home tomorrow and we could continue our snowball fight. "I will even make pancakes in the morning." One of the last things he ever said to me.
The next morning, my mom took my sister and I to our grandparents house because dad got a call in the middle of the night to go to work. Waking up to voices downstairs, I looked outside and saw more police cars with their lights on then I could have imagined the whole city had. Walking downstairs, the sight of so many police officers in uniform, guns at their sides and tears in their eyes. My mom sitting on the sofa, tears streaming down her cheeks, a man comforting her. "I knew something had happened with him when he didn't call." Those words are forever burned into my memory. I ran back upstairs and hid under the covers. I didn't know what was going on. My sister climbed into bed with me and tried our best to listen to what was being said downstairs. We both fell back asleep, only to be awaken by my grandfather opening the bedroom door. His large stature looking above me, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He put his hand on my shoulder, gently shook me and through the lump in his throat, he whispered...."Frank is dead." I started crying. The man who was my father figure was gone.
The next several days were extremely difficult on me. Watching my mom cry. Looking at my sister who really didn't understand what was going on. At 5, she didn't have a father anymore. I remember the visitation. I remember the funeral. I remember seeing the flag draped coffin. I remember the scores of people who attended the graveside. The news reported that was the longest funeral procession that they had ever seen. I remember sitting next to my mom. Her arm hooked with mine. I was being a gentleman. I had not cried since being told of his death. I was the pillar that mom leaned on. I was strong. I was stoic. After the flag was folded and handed to my mom, that is when I broke. I don't remember anything after that until going back to school a few days later. One of my classmates, her name is Carrie, came to me, hugged me and told me I looked handsome on TV. I was on TV? One of my teachers came to me with tears in her eyes, hugged me and told me she was sorry for my loss. I broke down again. I was tired of crying. After some time alone, I finally made up my mind I would never cry in front of anyone again. I decided it was best to keep my feelings to myself. That night, I asked mom if we were on TV. She handed me a video tape and said this is from the news. I put it in and after a few seconds, the news reporter was on, the story told and then video footage of the funeral. The cars. The officers. The mayor. The sheriff. Mom, granddaddy, my uncles. My sister. My mom and me, sitting next to her. The stone faced, strong, upright young man I turned into over night. Then there I was, on my knees, hugging the coffin.
Fast forward in my life to Jan 13, 2004. Sitting at work, the time was 1:42 in the afternoon. My cell phone rings and the number was from back home. The only person who called was mom. It was not her number. I answered it. The voice on the other end told me how he had found my mom, unconscious in her apartment. The ambulance was there. The EMT's attending to her. The voice said it wasn't good. "I am on my way." I made 3 phone calls. One to my sister, telling her to get to the hospital. The second to my fiance. And the third to my boss telling him I had an emergency. Normally the drive home was 2 and half hours. I made it in 2. At 3:20 am January 14, I was awaken by the nurse telling me mom was not getting better. I went into her room, looked at all the machines. The monitors. The blood transfusions. Her bloated body due to the internal bleeding. The doctor tells me there isn't much else they can do. Mom and I had had the conversation many times about how neither of us wanted a machine to keep us alive. for 12 hours, I went against her wishes. I didn't want her to die. I finally looked at the doctor and said, "She doesn't want this. Unplug her from the machines." I stepped out of the room while they did their work and in 10 minutes, I was sitting next to my mom. Holding her hand. Stroking her hair. Talking to her. Telling her it was time to go. Time to be with Frank. Tell Frank hi for me. Tell granddaddy I miss him. I held her hand and at 4:20am, she took her last breath. Her heart stopped beating. She was gone. I cried for the first time in front of a stranger since I was 12.
Now you know more about the inside of me. Now you know why I choose to be dark and hard to read. Now, you know.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
My mom and dad married young and before I was 2, they divorced. I never knew my dad. The only relationship I had was the monthly child support check mailed in. My mom remarried when I was 6. He was a local police officer. My sister came less then a year later. We moved about 6 or 7 times between the age of 6 and 13. When I was 12 we had one of the worst winters on record where I am from. The month of January, I spent most of the month home since schools were closed. On Jan 20, we had the coldest night in history. 24 below. That January I truly bonded with my step dad. The previous years we never really spent a lot of time together. We went to football games, or fishing, but 3 or 4 hours together every once and awhile just wasn't cutting it. He was always supportive when I played sports. Always making sure he was there when he was on duty. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a bad guy. We just never had time together. A couple of nights later, while outside playing with the kids in the neighborhood, I was blindsided by a snowball thrown by my dad. A brief snowball fight was ended when I threw one and nailed him in the nuts. After we laughed and wrestled a little, we made our way home. He told me he would be home tomorrow and we could continue our snowball fight. "I will even make pancakes in the morning." One of the last things he ever said to me.
The next morning, my mom took my sister and I to our grandparents house because dad got a call in the middle of the night to go to work. Waking up to voices downstairs, I looked outside and saw more police cars with their lights on then I could have imagined the whole city had. Walking downstairs, the sight of so many police officers in uniform, guns at their sides and tears in their eyes. My mom sitting on the sofa, tears streaming down her cheeks, a man comforting her. "I knew something had happened with him when he didn't call." Those words are forever burned into my memory. I ran back upstairs and hid under the covers. I didn't know what was going on. My sister climbed into bed with me and tried our best to listen to what was being said downstairs. We both fell back asleep, only to be awaken by my grandfather opening the bedroom door. His large stature looking above me, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He put his hand on my shoulder, gently shook me and through the lump in his throat, he whispered...."Frank is dead." I started crying. The man who was my father figure was gone.
The next several days were extremely difficult on me. Watching my mom cry. Looking at my sister who really didn't understand what was going on. At 5, she didn't have a father anymore. I remember the visitation. I remember the funeral. I remember seeing the flag draped coffin. I remember the scores of people who attended the graveside. The news reported that was the longest funeral procession that they had ever seen. I remember sitting next to my mom. Her arm hooked with mine. I was being a gentleman. I had not cried since being told of his death. I was the pillar that mom leaned on. I was strong. I was stoic. After the flag was folded and handed to my mom, that is when I broke. I don't remember anything after that until going back to school a few days later. One of my classmates, her name is Carrie, came to me, hugged me and told me I looked handsome on TV. I was on TV? One of my teachers came to me with tears in her eyes, hugged me and told me she was sorry for my loss. I broke down again. I was tired of crying. After some time alone, I finally made up my mind I would never cry in front of anyone again. I decided it was best to keep my feelings to myself. That night, I asked mom if we were on TV. She handed me a video tape and said this is from the news. I put it in and after a few seconds, the news reporter was on, the story told and then video footage of the funeral. The cars. The officers. The mayor. The sheriff. Mom, granddaddy, my uncles. My sister. My mom and me, sitting next to her. The stone faced, strong, upright young man I turned into over night. Then there I was, on my knees, hugging the coffin.
Fast forward in my life to Jan 13, 2004. Sitting at work, the time was 1:42 in the afternoon. My cell phone rings and the number was from back home. The only person who called was mom. It was not her number. I answered it. The voice on the other end told me how he had found my mom, unconscious in her apartment. The ambulance was there. The EMT's attending to her. The voice said it wasn't good. "I am on my way." I made 3 phone calls. One to my sister, telling her to get to the hospital. The second to my fiance. And the third to my boss telling him I had an emergency. Normally the drive home was 2 and half hours. I made it in 2. At 3:20 am January 14, I was awaken by the nurse telling me mom was not getting better. I went into her room, looked at all the machines. The monitors. The blood transfusions. Her bloated body due to the internal bleeding. The doctor tells me there isn't much else they can do. Mom and I had had the conversation many times about how neither of us wanted a machine to keep us alive. for 12 hours, I went against her wishes. I didn't want her to die. I finally looked at the doctor and said, "She doesn't want this. Unplug her from the machines." I stepped out of the room while they did their work and in 10 minutes, I was sitting next to my mom. Holding her hand. Stroking her hair. Talking to her. Telling her it was time to go. Time to be with Frank. Tell Frank hi for me. Tell granddaddy I miss him. I held her hand and at 4:20am, she took her last breath. Her heart stopped beating. She was gone. I cried for the first time in front of a stranger since I was 12.
Now you know more about the inside of me. Now you know why I choose to be dark and hard to read. Now, you know.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
To my dear friend.....
Normally I don't show emotion. But after writing this entry, I am very emotional. I have tears in my eyes. I say this to let you know how much I care about my friend. After rereading this, I had to add this. I want everyone else to know and understand how much she means to me.
The other day I got a message from a friend of mine. Well, she is more then a friend. She is something special to me. My babydoll as I call her. She is a funny, caring, extremely intelligent, opinionated, compassionate, cute young lady. I say cute, because she is very much into age play. She has those cute puppy dogs eyes she used to flash at me when she wanted something. Damn her for that. I can hear her giggling right now with that comment. "Sorry Sir" is what she is saying. No you are not. We both know better don't we? She is one of the few who has and I am sure will manipulate me in the future. I remember her coming over to my apartment when she was in college and eating dinner. Afterwards, she would go to my office to do her homework. A few times I would check in on her and catch her with one of her many coloring books out and coloring. She hated standing in the corner when she got in trouble. Hated it with a passion. I just knew one day I was going to be walking by her corner and see where she wrote on my wall with a crayon. She is like that.
To meet her in public, in a vanilla setting, she would blow you away. She can carry on a conversation with the best of them. To just talk to her, you would never believe she is in this lifestyle. And if you thought she was in this lifestyle, many would think she is a Domme. But I know better. I miss a lot of our conversations. I miss sitting on the sofa with her and watching movies and eating popcorn. She was great to hang out with. I still chuckle when I think about the times we played and some of the things I did with her. I could always tell when we did something she loved because she would barely speak above a whisper and her whole body would blush in ecstasy. I say all of this about her because as I said, she will always have her own corner in my heart. She is that dear of a friend to me. I know she reads this blog. In fact, she is the first person I shared it with.
I say all of this about her because she has a difficult decision to make in life right now. I am not going to go into details, but I want her to know I am here for her. She is never alone in anything. I know she thinks a lot about me. I think a lot about her. If we were not so far apart, I would give her the biggest hug possible. She needs a pick me up in life right now and I hope it is working. I want her to know that nothing is impossible. I want her to know everything in life happens for a reason. I want her to know that God will never put more on her shoulders then he knows she can handle. I want her to know that every time she smiles, someone is thinking of her. I want her to know that I have some new coloring books and crayons for her anytime she wants them.
My final thought is this. Babydoll, you are very dear to me. I love you and you are never alone. I love you in a way that can never be explained or understood. You are very dear to me. Have been and will always be. Daddy will always be here for you. Keep your chin up. And don't forget to smile. You always have a sparkle in your eye when you smile. This one time, I am going to change the phrase in my signature for my friend. For my..... babydoll.
Me
I WILL kiss away the tears.
The other day I got a message from a friend of mine. Well, she is more then a friend. She is something special to me. My babydoll as I call her. She is a funny, caring, extremely intelligent, opinionated, compassionate, cute young lady. I say cute, because she is very much into age play. She has those cute puppy dogs eyes she used to flash at me when she wanted something. Damn her for that. I can hear her giggling right now with that comment. "Sorry Sir" is what she is saying. No you are not. We both know better don't we? She is one of the few who has and I am sure will manipulate me in the future. I remember her coming over to my apartment when she was in college and eating dinner. Afterwards, she would go to my office to do her homework. A few times I would check in on her and catch her with one of her many coloring books out and coloring. She hated standing in the corner when she got in trouble. Hated it with a passion. I just knew one day I was going to be walking by her corner and see where she wrote on my wall with a crayon. She is like that.
To meet her in public, in a vanilla setting, she would blow you away. She can carry on a conversation with the best of them. To just talk to her, you would never believe she is in this lifestyle. And if you thought she was in this lifestyle, many would think she is a Domme. But I know better. I miss a lot of our conversations. I miss sitting on the sofa with her and watching movies and eating popcorn. She was great to hang out with. I still chuckle when I think about the times we played and some of the things I did with her. I could always tell when we did something she loved because she would barely speak above a whisper and her whole body would blush in ecstasy. I say all of this about her because as I said, she will always have her own corner in my heart. She is that dear of a friend to me. I know she reads this blog. In fact, she is the first person I shared it with.
I say all of this about her because she has a difficult decision to make in life right now. I am not going to go into details, but I want her to know I am here for her. She is never alone in anything. I know she thinks a lot about me. I think a lot about her. If we were not so far apart, I would give her the biggest hug possible. She needs a pick me up in life right now and I hope it is working. I want her to know that nothing is impossible. I want her to know everything in life happens for a reason. I want her to know that God will never put more on her shoulders then he knows she can handle. I want her to know that every time she smiles, someone is thinking of her. I want her to know that I have some new coloring books and crayons for her anytime she wants them.
My final thought is this. Babydoll, you are very dear to me. I love you and you are never alone. I love you in a way that can never be explained or understood. You are very dear to me. Have been and will always be. Daddy will always be here for you. Keep your chin up. And don't forget to smile. You always have a sparkle in your eye when you smile. This one time, I am going to change the phrase in my signature for my friend. For my..... babydoll.
Me
I WILL kiss away the tears.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Rambling thoughts and BDSM 101 class
So this morning I am sitting here staring at the box to start a new post and I am not sure what to write about. I thought about continuing the story. But I am just not feeling it this morning. I don't want to say I have writers block, I just don't know what to write about. I am just not feeling it. The bad thing is I am in a writing mood this morning. I have several things going through my head but just can not put it into words. Man, what frustration this is. OK, here goes, I am going to try and start something.
Every day I think about BDSM. Every day I think about whats inside me. I don't want to say it controls my thoughts or my life but every day I find it more difficult to suppress these thoughts. No matter what I am doing, I always attempt to incorporate BDSM into in some form. Sometimes I am at work and trying to manipulate a vendor or a coworker into doing something that needs to be done. Sometimes I use my own self discipline inside me to make it through a task. Or when I go home at night, either dealing with the family or in any of the numerous volunteer organizations, I am always trying to incorporate this lifestyle. The other night I was out with friends and some of my lifestyle friends showed up. One expressed to me I am like a Daddy Dom to her. I always find myself on the end of playing Daddy to a lot of people both lifestyle and vanilla. I even have a few younger vanilla lady friends who refer to me as Papa Bear.
I tend to be the type who wants to help everyone. I will answer questions for anyone who asks. I will offer advice either solicited or unsolicited. I provide an unbiased opinion when asked for one. I even lend an ear when someone needs to vent. I have offered demonstrations. I have even blogged about a certain topic to help another out. My latest offering is to lead a BDSM 101 class for the local group here in town. The day after I offered, I thought to myself, "What the FUCK have I gotten myself into?" Then I thought about it and said, I can do this. Hell I am all the time offering advice and counseling to others. Whats a class with a bunch of people sitting there, hanging on my every word. Things that make you say HMMMMM!!!!!! I sense an evil plan in the works.EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!! MUAHAHHAHAHAHAHA !!!!!
I want to ask you, the readers to provide me with some ideas of what you would like to see in a BDSM 101 class. Somethings I think I will discuss will be respect, limits, negotiation, safe words, safety, cleanup and aftercare. What do you think? Anything else? Something I am leaving out or something in particular you think I should touch on? Many of my thoughts come from other peoples experience, a lot based on my experience. If you choose to not open up, I can not be an effective teacher. WAKE UP CLASS!!!!!! Oh yeah, I am going to enjoy teaching a class.
Many times I am blogging on something and as I am writing I am trying to entice responses from people. As of this post I have had 18 comments. WTF. I know there are more then 18 comments out there. Now granted a few of you discuss it with me through messenger. Your comments might help others or in some cases, help me. I value opinions. You don't have to agree with me, but I would still like to see or hear your side of it. I am sure there are others reading this that will as well.
I was just thinking about this one time I had a sub and I invited her over to the house and played with her while others observed. I remember the thoughts and feelings I had leading up to that evening the excitement I had. Not only playing and fucking with another, but also toying with the minds of spectators. I remember in preparing for the evening, I put hooks in the ceiling. Laying the rope out. Planning my evening of fun. Playing the scene out in my mind of what I wanted to do. Adding something else in. Stopping my thoughts and saying, "Oh don't forget to do that." I even went so far as to set up a space heater for the comfort of the guests. I know, I am a nice guy. Don't always expect it though. I don't want you think I am a softee or a fucking nice guy ALL the time. As the night progressed, the sweat forming on my brow, the smell of leather. The sound of my flogger landing on the intended spot. The whines, the moans, a few gasps, the sound of the rope pulling tight..... Oh sweet bliss. What a night.
OK, some of you are biting your lower lip. Stop that. Now your eyes are wide asking, "How did he know?" Damn I am good huh? And for those of you in denial, you know who you are, you are the ones who yearn for it the most. Yes you. No, not you, YOU!!!!!!!
My final thought..... hmm Do I have a final thought on this? Wait, yes I do. Feedback people. Provide it. I am like a fire, I need fuel. Throw another log on, or if you are daring, dump fuel on the fire. Just be careful and don't get burned. You adding a log doesn't mean the fire will intensify the way you want it to.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Every day I think about BDSM. Every day I think about whats inside me. I don't want to say it controls my thoughts or my life but every day I find it more difficult to suppress these thoughts. No matter what I am doing, I always attempt to incorporate BDSM into in some form. Sometimes I am at work and trying to manipulate a vendor or a coworker into doing something that needs to be done. Sometimes I use my own self discipline inside me to make it through a task. Or when I go home at night, either dealing with the family or in any of the numerous volunteer organizations, I am always trying to incorporate this lifestyle. The other night I was out with friends and some of my lifestyle friends showed up. One expressed to me I am like a Daddy Dom to her. I always find myself on the end of playing Daddy to a lot of people both lifestyle and vanilla. I even have a few younger vanilla lady friends who refer to me as Papa Bear.
I tend to be the type who wants to help everyone. I will answer questions for anyone who asks. I will offer advice either solicited or unsolicited. I provide an unbiased opinion when asked for one. I even lend an ear when someone needs to vent. I have offered demonstrations. I have even blogged about a certain topic to help another out. My latest offering is to lead a BDSM 101 class for the local group here in town. The day after I offered, I thought to myself, "What the FUCK have I gotten myself into?" Then I thought about it and said, I can do this. Hell I am all the time offering advice and counseling to others. Whats a class with a bunch of people sitting there, hanging on my every word. Things that make you say HMMMMM!!!!!! I sense an evil plan in the works.
I want to ask you, the readers to provide me with some ideas of what you would like to see in a BDSM 101 class. Somethings I think I will discuss will be respect, limits, negotiation, safe words, safety, cleanup and aftercare. What do you think? Anything else? Something I am leaving out or something in particular you think I should touch on? Many of my thoughts come from other peoples experience, a lot based on my experience. If you choose to not open up, I can not be an effective teacher.
Many times I am blogging on something and as I am writing I am trying to entice responses from people. As of this post I have had 18 comments. WTF. I know there are more then 18 comments out there. Now granted a few of you discuss it with me through messenger. Your comments might help others or in some cases, help me. I value opinions. You don't have to agree with me, but I would still like to see or hear your side of it. I am sure there are others reading this that will as well.
I was just thinking about this one time I had a sub and I invited her over to the house and played with her while others observed. I remember the thoughts and feelings I had leading up to that evening the excitement I had. Not only playing and fucking with another, but also toying with the minds of spectators. I remember in preparing for the evening, I put hooks in the ceiling. Laying the rope out. Planning my evening of fun. Playing the scene out in my mind of what I wanted to do. Adding something else in. Stopping my thoughts and saying, "Oh don't forget to do that." I even went so far as to set up a space heater for the comfort of the guests. I know, I am a nice guy. Don't always expect it though. I don't want you think I am a softee or a fucking nice guy ALL the time. As the night progressed, the sweat forming on my brow, the smell of leather. The sound of my flogger landing on the intended spot. The whines, the moans, a few gasps, the sound of the rope pulling tight..... Oh sweet bliss. What a night.
OK, some of you are biting your lower lip. Stop that. Now your eyes are wide asking, "How did he know?" Damn I am good huh? And for those of you in denial, you know who you are, you are the ones who yearn for it the most. Yes you. No, not you, YOU!!!!!!!
My final thought..... hmm Do I have a final thought on this? Wait, yes I do. Feedback people. Provide it. I am like a fire, I need fuel. Throw another log on, or if you are daring, dump fuel on the fire. Just be careful and don't get burned. You adding a log doesn't mean the fire will intensify the way you want it to.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Meeting others.
The other night I went out with my wife and some friends to a local club. Several of our friends were already there and more showed up later. The music was loud. The beer was cold. The titties were plentiful. I met a few new people that night. One couple I met were new to the club. New to me at least. I had not seen them there before. They were young, exciting and good looking. What caught my eye with them was the mini flogger she held in her hand. Not too many times do you see someone wielding a tool of my trade at a club. Let alone out in public. After eyeing her for a few minutes and discussing her with a couple of friends, I decided to approach and see what she intended to do with her mini flogger.
She eyed me coming up to her and as I leaned on the railing that separates the dance floor from the seating area, her husband/boyfriend pulled her closer. He must have felt threatened by me. Why? Hell if I know. I asked her what she had in her hand there. Before she answered, she swung it at me and the tails landed on my forearm. When I didn't react, jump, wince or show any other surprise, she swung it again and again. Finally I asked her what she was doing and she said she was showing me what it was. She then tells me she loves her new toy and what she paid for it. I am one to never pass up an opportunity so I told her I have 2 very nice leather ones at home. Would her and her husband/boyfriend like to check them out. The look on their face was priceless.
Sometimes I get more enjoyment out of the look of horror and shock on peoples faces when I let them in on the dark side of me. Back in the fall I was at this same club and I brought my flogger with me. Many of the people avoided me like I had a weapon of mass destruction with me. However, there were a few who approached me and inquired about what I had. I gave a few demonstrations that night. Even brought one over to the dark side. Conversing with many of these people I usually get the same story. The other part of the twosome is not into BDSM, spanking, bondage, etc and I am so intrigued. I want to learn more blah blah blah. I love meeting new people and discovering that there is some freak inside of them. They just need help bringing it out.
Many times it is by accident I meet a lot of people who say they are into some of the same things as me. A few times on purpose. Like I have said before, you can see it in their eyes if they are really into this. The look of lust. The glassy eyes, the partially open dry mouth. The shallow breathing.... all signs they like what they see. I have the uncanny ability to read people. It is a blessing and a curse. I tell people this and they always say... "OK, tell me what I am thinking." Well duh, you are thinking, this guy cant read me. After we are done laughing about it, later on I will tell them what they are thinking at that moment and that's when they tend to amazed. They always ask, how do you know that? How do you do that? Its just me. I don't know. I just can.
Some people are more difficult to read then others. Some have a wall up attempting to hide something from their past. Their hurt from the past will not allow them to open up. Until they decide to let their guard down, open the door in their wall, they will not get past their painful past. Sometimes it is physical, sometimes emotional. All the time it is hurt they have. Too many times I have heard stories from others over their emotional, physical and mental scars they suffered at the hands of another in this lifestyle. It really pisses me off when I hear about the predators that are out there. The ones who do not have the experience and think it is all about beating the shit out of the other. Someone once told me abuse is what the other makes of it. Wrong. Abuse is what the controlling one does to the other. It is not an opinion or an interpretation. Abuse it what it is. ABUSE. I am not going to go off on a tangent here, but check back in the future for a post about abuse.
My final thought is this. People in general are a strange breed. My kink is someone else's taboo. Their kink is expected with me. So on. When people are comfortable in their own skin, in their element, in their surrounding, they usually let their guard down and let the inhibitions out. Don't be afraid to express yourself. You never know when I might be lurking in the room. I am always observing people. I love it. If I do approach you, don't be afraid. I wont bite..... hard.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
She eyed me coming up to her and as I leaned on the railing that separates the dance floor from the seating area, her husband/boyfriend pulled her closer. He must have felt threatened by me. Why? Hell if I know.
Sometimes I get more enjoyment out of the look of horror and shock on peoples faces when I let them in on the dark side of me. Back in the fall I was at this same club and I brought my flogger with me. Many of the people avoided me like I had a weapon of mass destruction with me. However, there were a few who approached me and inquired about what I had. I gave a few demonstrations that night. Even brought one over to the dark side. Conversing with many of these people I usually get the same story. The other part of the twosome is not into BDSM, spanking, bondage, etc and I am so intrigued. I want to learn more blah blah blah. I love meeting new people and discovering that there is some freak inside of them. They just need help bringing it out.
Many times it is by accident I meet a lot of people who say they are into some of the same things as me. A few times on purpose. Like I have said before, you can see it in their eyes if they are really into this. The look of lust. The glassy eyes, the partially open dry mouth. The shallow breathing.... all signs they like what they see. I have the uncanny ability to read people. It is a blessing and a curse. I tell people this and they always say... "OK, tell me what I am thinking." Well duh, you are thinking, this guy cant read me. After we are done laughing about it, later on I will tell them what they are thinking at that moment and that's when they tend to amazed. They always ask, how do you know that? How do you do that? Its just me. I don't know. I just can.
Some people are more difficult to read then others. Some have a wall up attempting to hide something from their past. Their hurt from the past will not allow them to open up. Until they decide to let their guard down, open the door in their wall, they will not get past their painful past. Sometimes it is physical, sometimes emotional. All the time it is hurt they have. Too many times I have heard stories from others over their emotional, physical and mental scars they suffered at the hands of another in this lifestyle. It really pisses me off when I hear about the predators that are out there. The ones who do not have the experience and think it is all about beating the shit out of the other. Someone once told me abuse is what the other makes of it. Wrong. Abuse is what the controlling one does to the other. It is not an opinion or an interpretation. Abuse it what it is. ABUSE. I am not going to go off on a tangent here, but check back in the future for a post about abuse.
My final thought is this. People in general are a strange breed. My kink is someone else's taboo. Their kink is expected with me. So on. When people are comfortable in their own skin, in their element, in their surrounding, they usually let their guard down and let the inhibitions out. Don't be afraid to express yourself. You never know when I might be lurking in the room. I am always observing people. I love it. If I do approach you, don't be afraid. I wont bite..... hard.
Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Story time part 2
Her heart was racing as the word rolled off her tongue. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip waiting for the caller on the other end to speak.
In a soft, gentle deep voice, the man on the other end asked. "Good evening, is this Megan Morgan?" He sounded as if he was in the other room. She sat straight up in the tub and in a nervous voice responded. "Yes, this is she. How may I help you?"
"You tell me. You are the one who sent your number to me."
She stopped breathing. Her heart skipped several beats. Her eyes wide open with fear and excitement. She switched the phone in her hands as she bit her bottom lip. "I, errr, you, ummm, I'm sorry, you sort of caught me at a bad time. May I call you back in a few minutes?"
After a few seconds, she asked the question again. He answered, "No, you may not. I will be in the hotel restaurant at 8pm. Meet me there for dinner. I will have a table by the window." The line went dead. She didn't move for 30 seconds. The thumping of her pulse in her ear brought her back to reality. Looking at her phone, she realized she had 30 mins to get ready. She thought to herself, what am I going to wear? I haven't shaved my legs. I need to wash my hair. Not enough time. The hair and legs will have to wait. She got out of the tub, grabbed a towel and dried off. Pulling on her robe, tying it tight around her waist, she hurried off to the closet in her suite to see what she could wear. As she walked past her bed, she stopped dead in her tracks. Laying across the bed was a red dress, black stockings and red stiletto heels. A strand of pearls where in the open jewelry box by the neck of the dress. There was an note on top of the dress. She grabbed the note and held her breath. She thought to herself, where did all of this come from? Opening the note, her eyes widened. It was a check list of things to do before meeting him. She spun around twice in fear. He was in here. He WAS in the next room when I answered the phone. She reread the note again.
#1 shave every bit of hair from your neck down. I will be performing an inspection.
#2 wear what I laid out for you.
#3 don't be late.
She looked at the clock. 7:35 She has 25 minutes to be downstairs. She rushed off to the bathroom. Turning the water of the tub on, she went over to her travel bag and grabbed her razor and shaving cream. Lathering her legs up, she dipped the razor under the scolding hot water. Starting at her ankles, she pulled the razor up her long lean legs. Across her strong calves. Rubbing her hands over her legs, she checked for anymore stubble. Smooth as a newborns ass. Rushing back to the mirror, she applied her makeup. Spraying her perfume on her neck and stomach, she glanced at her phone. 7:50 She had to hurry. Pulling the stockings over her legs, she smoothed them out. Her heart racing. Her breathing fast, she ran her hands between her legs. Touching herself, she realized she had not shaved her pubic area. No time now. Standing up, she went to her lingerie drawer and pulled out her favorite panties and bra. A red lace matching set. Slipping into her panties and hoking the bra, she stepped back to the bed and pulled on the dress. It draped down to her calves, split high up her legs. Turning and looking to the mirror, she could see her stocking tops. Very sexy and daring. Stepping into the heels, she grabbed her phone and hurried out the door. Hurrying down the hall, she looked at her phone once again. 7:57 She was just going to make it.
"Where is the damn elevator?!?!?" She kept punching the down button. Looking up she could see the numbers counting up showing where the elevator was at. "Hurry!!!!" As she stepped into the elevator she glanced at her phone yet again. 8:00 Her heart stopped. She was going to be late. She prayed that her watch was slow. Punching the ground floor, she bit her lip again. Down the elevator went. Stopping a few times. The men getting on could not help but stare at her. Looking at her reflection in the doors of the elevator she smiled and thought, I truly am beautiful. The elevator came to a stop on the bottom floor. Not waiting for the doors to fully open, she was out and into the lobby. Entering the restaurant, she looked at her phone once more. 8:04 Cursing under her breath she bit her lip again. Looking around, she spotted him where he said he would be. As she walked over to the table, he stood and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled a nervous smile, took her seat and together scooted closer to the table. As he walked around to sit down, she looked him in the eyes and said "I am sorry I am late, the eleva.." He cut her off, "I don't care about the elevator, we will discuss your punishment later. Would you like a glass of wine?"
In a soft, gentle deep voice, the man on the other end asked. "Good evening, is this Megan Morgan?" He sounded as if he was in the other room. She sat straight up in the tub and in a nervous voice responded. "Yes, this is she. How may I help you?"
"You tell me. You are the one who sent your number to me."
She stopped breathing. Her heart skipped several beats. Her eyes wide open with fear and excitement. She switched the phone in her hands as she bit her bottom lip. "I, errr, you, ummm, I'm sorry, you sort of caught me at a bad time. May I call you back in a few minutes?"
After a few seconds, she asked the question again. He answered, "No, you may not. I will be in the hotel restaurant at 8pm. Meet me there for dinner. I will have a table by the window." The line went dead. She didn't move for 30 seconds. The thumping of her pulse in her ear brought her back to reality. Looking at her phone, she realized she had 30 mins to get ready. She thought to herself, what am I going to wear? I haven't shaved my legs. I need to wash my hair. Not enough time. The hair and legs will have to wait. She got out of the tub, grabbed a towel and dried off. Pulling on her robe, tying it tight around her waist, she hurried off to the closet in her suite to see what she could wear. As she walked past her bed, she stopped dead in her tracks. Laying across the bed was a red dress, black stockings and red stiletto heels. A strand of pearls where in the open jewelry box by the neck of the dress. There was an note on top of the dress. She grabbed the note and held her breath. She thought to herself, where did all of this come from? Opening the note, her eyes widened. It was a check list of things to do before meeting him. She spun around twice in fear. He was in here. He WAS in the next room when I answered the phone. She reread the note again.
#1 shave every bit of hair from your neck down. I will be performing an inspection.
#2 wear what I laid out for you.
#3 don't be late.
She looked at the clock. 7:35 She has 25 minutes to be downstairs. She rushed off to the bathroom. Turning the water of the tub on, she went over to her travel bag and grabbed her razor and shaving cream. Lathering her legs up, she dipped the razor under the scolding hot water. Starting at her ankles, she pulled the razor up her long lean legs. Across her strong calves. Rubbing her hands over her legs, she checked for anymore stubble. Smooth as a newborns ass. Rushing back to the mirror, she applied her makeup. Spraying her perfume on her neck and stomach, she glanced at her phone. 7:50 She had to hurry. Pulling the stockings over her legs, she smoothed them out. Her heart racing. Her breathing fast, she ran her hands between her legs. Touching herself, she realized she had not shaved her pubic area. No time now. Standing up, she went to her lingerie drawer and pulled out her favorite panties and bra. A red lace matching set. Slipping into her panties and hoking the bra, she stepped back to the bed and pulled on the dress. It draped down to her calves, split high up her legs. Turning and looking to the mirror, she could see her stocking tops. Very sexy and daring. Stepping into the heels, she grabbed her phone and hurried out the door. Hurrying down the hall, she looked at her phone once again. 7:57 She was just going to make it.
"Where is the damn elevator?!?!?" She kept punching the down button. Looking up she could see the numbers counting up showing where the elevator was at. "Hurry!!!!" As she stepped into the elevator she glanced at her phone yet again. 8:00 Her heart stopped. She was going to be late. She prayed that her watch was slow. Punching the ground floor, she bit her lip again. Down the elevator went. Stopping a few times. The men getting on could not help but stare at her. Looking at her reflection in the doors of the elevator she smiled and thought, I truly am beautiful. The elevator came to a stop on the bottom floor. Not waiting for the doors to fully open, she was out and into the lobby. Entering the restaurant, she looked at her phone once more. 8:04 Cursing under her breath she bit her lip again. Looking around, she spotted him where he said he would be. As she walked over to the table, he stood and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled a nervous smile, took her seat and together scooted closer to the table. As he walked around to sit down, she looked him in the eyes and said "I am sorry I am late, the eleva.." He cut her off, "I don't care about the elevator, we will discuss your punishment later. Would you like a glass of wine?"
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