Integrating, Updating

I am, slower than I would like, bringing in a lot of my writing from previous blogs or cross-posting from membership-based sites so that I can share with more readers. The labels and such will all be fixed soon, and more content is on the way.

Thanks for reading!

Gem

Identities, Definitions and Protocols: No Cookie Cutter Answers

I was asked last week if the talks I was having with someone would constitute "mentoring." I use quotes because I was asked if I would consider it a Fetlife-applicable relationship and add Mentor to my profile. It came with a predefined ideal - not that it's a bad thing - but it made me think if what we were doing was, indeed, mentoring. Did it fit the definition of mentoring in order to warrant a relationship connection? Not that I mind it, do not misunderstand. In fact, I am flattered and honored. But I thought of the mentoring relationships to which I am exposed and I don't see the same styles. I started to wonder how it was defined, by whom, and what exactly it might entail.

And then I wondered why the hell it mattered how others would define it?

Silence is Golden. Duct Tape is Silver

He told me I would be punished... but not to the extent I would need the perfidious "punishment panties" again. Thank gods. I hate that red pile of thread; those panties, once so hot and fun, now meant only pain, shame, darkness. Even the word "punishment" - on its own - when coming from Deviant makes me shudder because my first thought is of that unwanted underwear.

Even with the caveat that they were not required for our session, I couldn't get the image of the panties and what they put me through out of my head. It definitely had an effect on my headspace going into our session.

It all started a week before. I was out enjoying a mid-week happy hour with a girlfriend. The bartender liked us and our personal happy hour extended far past what other patrons were offered. We had such a good time, in fact, that I ended up taking her home to my apartment because there was no way she could drive home. (No, don't ask. As much as the innuendo sounds good, we did not. Settled? Good.)

Interrogation is, ahem, "sew" much fun!

The leadup to that Friday night was... interesting... to say the least.

I was told that I would be forever changed and that I was ready for some next-level BDSM play. I was assured that when the night was over, I would experience new things and be ready for more elite play. I interpreted elite to mean not only the intensity of the play but the players themselves.

On more than one occasion, Deviant offered and then declined to tell me what I was facing. In part because I know that he, too, was excited, but in part - I have zero doubt - to fuck with my head. He's good at that, if you haven't noticed, and had me wondering, pondering, even fantasizing about what I would go through during our session.

I arrived a few minutes early. After greetings and hugs I spent some time chatting with his wife before he joined us in the kitchen. We continued talking for a short while longer and then it was time for us to begin. I made my way up to the play room and lit the candles. There was music already playing... but not in the play room. I found that a bit strange - we usually play music from an iPod docked in the room with us - but it wasn't totally foreign. Aside from the initial consideration, I didn't give it another thought until I saw the iPod on the bondage table.

Sensory deprivation was on the menu. I didn't need any more confirmation than that.

Musings of a Misstep, a Mindfuck and a Moral (Part II, the session)

I was early. The grey weather persisted and subsequent influx of bad drivers to the Las Vegas valley had me worried about traffic and road safety. I left my house about 30 minutes earlier than normal and still arrived only 15 minutes early. His wife greeted me at the door and after chatting for a few minutes offered me a drink and said that Deviant requested I wait for him in the play room. I declined the beverage and headed upstairs.

Already waiting on the dresser were the requisite blue and orange plastic cups with ice water. I also noticed a switch on the floor, the Hitachi, and a few other items out of place. I lit the candles and put the toys away, then sat on the stool by the dressers. I waited, hands folded, listening to the shower down the hall and looking around the room. I always feel so cocooned there, so shielded, so protected. Odd? Maybe, considering I was there to be dominated physically and mentally, consensually injured. But I also know I am safe.

This session was not planned as much as it was... needed. My head was in a fog, I was a bit jumbled, and I was letting things bother me that did not deserve that kind of time. In truth, it was a mess of small things mostly, but between the mindfuck, the heartbreaking community service, some confusing inner monologues and a little inherent holiday sadness, it was all precariously unbalanced in my head and in my heart... I just needed some perspective, a little ego stroke, and a reminder that I was amazing, I could handle it all and then some, and I could take whatever it was that was thrown at me.... with a smile and maybe some glitter.

Musings of a Misstep, a Mindfuck and a Moral (Part I)

Day One: Friday

I felt defeated.

I skipped the gym, lunch with friends, and went into hiding in my office. I spent an inordinate amount of time on Twitter (which, from a self-professed social media whore, is saying a lot). I was looking people in the eye less and less, there was no spring in my step, and my voice was flat. Online I could keep a good attitude, no one could see me crying. No one could see the pain in my eyes, the discomfort in my wan smile, or the growing sense of vulnerability and deflated value.

People noticed that I was behaving differently. It was obvious that something was different about me, something was making me uncomfortable, and taking away from my happiness. The gas station patrons eyed me with a wary caution, the FedEx agent asked me what was wrong, and my coworkers had to deal with tear-shined eyes and monosyllabic replies. I used email more than ever, because I didn't want to be bothered to interact with anyone more than I had to.

Before that, however...

A Few of My Favorite (Kinky) Things

I was tweeting with a friend and said I would rewrite this song and send it to her... Enjoy!

Ball gags and cock gags and whip marks on asses,
Bright steel handcuffs and leather straight jackets,
Willing boys' packages caged in CBT,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Pink colored bite marks and clothespins on nipples,
Face masks and zipped hoods and hard wooden paddles,
Beautiful girls pierced with bright needle wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Boys in lace panties with blue satin sashes
Face-slapping, foot worship, tears on eyelashes
Bondage rope, floggers, and canes, whips and chains,
These are a few of my favorite things

When a heel breaks
When my nails chip
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

[Repeat all verses]

"You do not want to be punished by me." (a/k/a Failure is NOT an option.)

We were having a conversation about play, fetishes, and fantasies. That is when I got my first glimpse into our play session this week. I was already warming up, and then he asked...

Deviant: do you like gagging?
Gemini: Yes!!!
Deviant: rough?
Gemini: I like rough :)
Gemini: Fuck, I am all sorts of hot right now.
Gemini: Grrrrrr
Gemini: ;)
Deviant: NO TOUCHY
Deviant: till I see you
Deviant: :)
Deviant: I love being the Top
Gemini: Yes, Sir.
Gemini: grumble
Gemini: ;)
Gemini: I was so ready to excuse myself for 10, too
Deviant: I know

In addition to, or rather spawned by, our conversation, I was given the task to look up information online and present it to him so we could discuss it and see how we felt about integrating it into our play.

Deviant: think of it as a research project
Gemini: Deadline?
Deviant: 1 hour
Deviant: or next week sometime
Deviant: :)
Gemini: LOL
Deviant: the sooner you do it, the more excited I get which has positive results for you.
Gemini: Prob can't do an hour, but I can offer by morning?
Gemini: I understand. :)
Deviant: :)
Gemini: I want to please you, esp. since I can't pleasure myself. ;)
Gemini: OK, fair to say I would anyway, but I'm horny and feeling ornery. ;)
Deviant: you have never been punished by me
Deviant: I promise you don't want to be
Gemini: I understand. :)
Deviant: the kneeling on your hands was just the tip of the iceberg
Gemini: nods
Gemini: Thank you.

Three and a Third

I spent three days cringing, clenching, and panicking. I was not only assigned the task to edge (as in, almost there, but no orgasm allowed) no less than 12 and no more than 16 times, with the addition of an ice component after each instance... but I was also told we were going to do anal fisting.

Deviant: so since I broke your boob
Gemini: LOL
Deviant: i'll have to break your ass next. start preparing for some fisting :)
Gemini: OMG
Deviant: :)
Deviant: YUM!
Gemini: I have no words
Deviant: good:)
Deviant: i'm sure you will find a few
Deviant: so did you Google what's in store for you?
Gemini: Not yet, but that's the plan
Deviant: no need to, you're not going to be able to do anything :)
Gemini: I am scared, looking at these
Deviant: it prolly won't fit
Deviant: we sure are gonna try!!!

I spent three days and three nights downloading photos, watching videos, reading up on techniques, preparation, and potential harms. I bought a fresh, new enema kit in addition to some drug store enemas. I asked questions, I tried to mentally prepare, and...

I freaked the fuck out.

Therapy: "I don't need you. You are important."

"Mornin'." He sends her a message.

"It is, yes," she replies. "I need to resched if you'll allow."

"Aaahhh, no way. Really? :("

She feels badly. She knows he had plans for her. Devious, painful plans about which he was very excited.

She also knew he had been working hard to put it all together. And now, on top of everything else, she was disappointing him.

"Yeah, I am sorry. I am not in the right mind for play tonight. I wish I had a better statement, but I always promise honesty."

"What does that mean? Explain."

She wonders if she can explain. She's not even sure of her own understanding of what is going on. It was new but it wasn't. It had been... how long? She'd been going through this, in degrees, for quite some time.

She had been bouyed up and then crash-landed so many times she was not just a little surprised at how hard this was. Even more frustrating, she was giving it - giving him - power over her through her own, self-imposed emotional turmoil.

How do you tell someone this? How do you explain all of this to someone who is in an amazing relationship of his own and how can you think they can begin to understand? How do you admit, when you are strong and intelligent and vibrant, that you feel weak, vulnerable and dulled?