#SatSpanks ..."Two more songs..."

Up to 8 sentences of spanking fun on a Saturday :) Please make sure to use the links at the bottom to visit my fellow spankers and spankees :D

Oh, "Looking for our Unicorn." I'd asked in a spanking group I'm in for recommendations of polyamorous spanking stories- don't get me wrong, I love the man taking his girlfriend/wife in hand; then there's Anastasia Vitsky's non-sexual female/female stories that transport me to another world :D. But what of polyamorous people? I don't remember any recommended titles, but I do remember Cara Bristol saying I should write it. Well maybe that wasn't her exact words, but that's the message I got :D.

So I started writing. I have 2647 words. But I'm stymied. I'm not sure if it's- a) I feel like I'm cheating on my first love, the BDSM series titled Vala's Story, b) I'm too worried about "the formula for spanking/DD stories", c) I'm trying to take too much on by writing in multiple POV (as the spanker, the spankee, and "the unicorn"), or d) all of the above and writer silliness thrown in.

Bruce and Thora are the couple; Arya just might their "unicorn"- the mythical bisexual female to complete a male/female couple looking to be a polyamorous triad. In this first group of lines, Bruce has invited Arya into his home.

Bruce's hand slid down Arya's back until it cupped her ass. He squeezed until she gasped against his mouth. He broke the kiss again. "Into being spanked?"

Arya sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Yes. It's nice." Oh my!

Without turning his head away from Arya, Bruce lifted his voice slightly, "Two more songs, sweet. Then it's time for your spanking."

For more with Bruce, Thora, and Arya, you'll need to come back next week :)

Shouldn't a Dom want to improve His/Her/Hir sub?

Tom and picking my nails

I can be very self-destructive. I admit- I'm not a poster child for "see, even healthy, normal people are into BDSM." Tom could see this. Even living in a coffeehouse as compared to me having been kicked out of college for having a nervous breakdown and back at my parents' house, Tom had his act together better than I did. There was much for him to work on; he did pick his battles though. One thing he concentrated on was my nails. I don't bite my nails; I pick at them. And I'll find a nail that's longer than my fingertip and I'll pick and pick until I have enough to rip. I've ripped serious enough to expose the quick. I will do this in boredom sometimes, but when stressed, anxious is when I'll do it and really hurt myself. I still pick sometimes, but rarely as bad as I did before Tom focused his domming efforts to get me to stop.

One time, I picked my nails enough that Tom punished me for it.

I'd gone back to the college to see friends. I found out after the fact that various friends were trying to find me, to warn me. I still have the dress- maybe some time I'll put it on and post the picture so you all can see. Yes, it's pretty revealing. I was made up, gothed up, in the dress. The trip to campus security, the ticket written out saying that I was banned from the grounds, trying to find a way home, finally finding a friend who was heading towards Detroit and who would take me with her. I'm surprised I didn't bloody any of my fingers; I had ripped so bad while in a daze. It was a few days later that I managed to get to Gotham next. I had a gift for Tom- I forget now what. But I told him, "I have a gift for you, but it's entirely not meant to get me out of trouble for what I have to admit." So I showed him the ticket and then I showed him my hands; enough days for my ripping episode not to show simply hadn't passed. He took the gift- damn, I wish I remember what it was. Maybe I'd written something for him? He lead me away from the bar, to the booths. With the handle of my leash, he gave my back several swats- Shawn lectured him. Sure, I've gone through situations as stressful, if not more so, since that day, but no, I've never picked my nails enough to hurt myself like that since that day.

The Queen getting Vala sober and eating again

In "Out of the Night: Book One," first things first- The Queen has to get Mearr medical attention, get her sober, get her eating again. She's dangerously underweight. I admit, you see most of her recovery in summary- Vala really didn't want me sharing too many of those gory details and he allowed her to give that stage direction. Amusingly, one reviewer who didn't understand BDSM had expected me to show Vala at a 12 step meeting. But during those six months that she didn't want shown, he had a lot of work to do. Of course there was simply getting her detoxed, all those chemicals cleared out of her body. She's still prone to falling asleep, needing to takes naps- even more than two decades since the last time I took cocaine, sometimes I need to nap like she does. Eating again, now that's the scary thing. I'm not sure there's such a thing as "too skinny" in an anorexic's mind- I know I never found that as I was trying to figure out how to lose more weight when I was already 30 pounds underweight- dangerously underweight. The Queen would eat with Vala, tailoring the meal choices to her likes, to what she needs (although I'm sure they'd both most enjoy her main protein source being his cum). He would reward her for eating, for asking for food. "Good girl." "I am pleased." I know Simon would bring her teas- herbal teas, homeopathic teas, different teas that contain just a bit of caffeine so she still has that need carefully met, without her having the chance to indulge in overstimulation. Of course, healing from either drug addiction or anorexia are not overnight propositions- in "Gates of the Garden: Book Two," you will see how he continues to care for her. The mixture of eating from a bowl on the floor- during formal meals- as well as more casual times of eating, learning to enjoy eating again, however one is allowed to do so. Sometimes I wish I hadn't gone vegan- I desperately miss my Master taking a bite of food on His fork and feeding it to me.

Shaman getting me off mini-thins

Beyond how Vala is based of my struggles, I've shared directly about some of the difficulties in my life. I just talked in depth a few days ago about how my first marriage went wrong. Part of how I badly dealt with that was mini-thins. Don't know what they are? More power to you! I wish I didn't know what they were; I still miss them, every single day, and it's been almost 13 years. A legal stimulant, I'm led to understand that mini-thins were first marketed as an asthma drug, but they went over-the-counter for some reason and people realized that they both helped you stay awake and lose tons of weight. I know exactly where to go to buy myself some- not all gas stations carry them like they used to. But I know the twin thoughts of "Shaman will look at me and know I'm on mini-thins" and "He struggled so hard to get me off them the first time" keep me from getting in the car and driving the 30 minutes to buy them. Well more than that, but on bad days, it's only those thoughts that hold me.

A story told to me and a story to balance...

Shaman and I'd gone to our friends' Dana and Paul's. A fetish friend they knew from online was coming over to visit. She seemed nice enough, but I must admit I don't remember her too well. It was told me later that day that she'd been rather confused that Shaman "allowed [me] to sleep when [I] should have been taking care of Him." I forget who it was that told me, but He explained, "When she's with me is one of the few times she can get good sleep without worrying about who's watching her son."

This also happened at Dana and Paul's. Another visit, another day, I was fighting sleep. Sleep just wasn't a good thing. I wanted to be awake, to please Shaman. He told me I should rest, but, but... I took a mini-thin. Instantly, the sensations rushed through my body. My brain felt so big, like my skull couldn't possibly me big enough. And then my eyes opened wide. I looked at Shaman; He knew, He wasn't happy, but He knew why I'd disobeyed. However, like too much of that time in my life, I don't remember what He did, although maybe most importantly, I do remember His displeasure.

#SatSpanks "Master, i'm lubing up for you"

Last week, remember last Saturday?, I took part in the Saturday Spankings blog hop the first time and managed to get my name on Mistress Blake's paddle for being tardy- aren't I a rotten brat? So I realized, in reading the rules, I skipped one: Post your sentences so they go live by 00:00 on Saturday, but no earlier than 21:00 on Friday (ET). If your post is not live by midnight Saturday, you risk deletion from the list. So this week, I'm scheduling the lines to go live at 11:59 PM ET Friday. Good thing my Master has the Saturday through Monday to take care of me, huh? :D

But yes, so "Ode to Finding my Inner Brat" started off as a joke last week, however I've gotten writing. It's sitting open on my computer as a 736 word file. I started off with a text message conversation that I joked with my Master would be fun to pull on Him one of these days. It's 12 sentences long (including 4 "time stamps") and is only the prelude to the smacks that happen in these lines. I'm not sure where I'm going with it- I might very well end up with a "Tuesday Fiction" blog sharing (so you may very well get to read the whole thing that's most definitely going to go past the allowances of the blog hop :D .

Suddenly my fingers are pulled out of my ass. You push the wrist against the small of my back. Without a word, You deliver a harsh smack to my ass. The smacks fall as I writhe against the bed, glad that You don't want me to count or thank, just feel the smacks.

"Couldn't wait until I got home?"

I turn my head to the side. "Sorry, Master. Woke up... so aroused."

Several more smacks to my ass- I might even have marks when You're done.

#Satspanks - Am I really taking part in a corporal punishment blog hop? :D

So I'm about to be silly on a few levels here. I always mean to read the Saturday Spanks blog hop blogs, but don't get to them often enough. A few things- as a lifestyle submissive and a mother, I'm constantly overcommitted. I really need to learn to say no to people (other than my Master) far more often lol. This week, I'm going to post something that fits (since often enough my Saturday posts are more about BDSM as a whole rather than just the corporal punishment that's the focus of the hop.

Reading over the rules with a friend, she commented about "published book or WIP," neither of which my sentences come from. This led to joking about 2 possible WIPs- either a "funny things Shaman [my Master] says" or "ode to finding my inner brat"- both seem think good side projects to my main BDSM series. Mentioning my series, rather than posting a blurb or anything here since corporal punishment is only one small part of the series, those that are interested, I ask you to scroll down and look for the "My Books" page on the right side to read about purchasing my BDSM book, "Out of the Night: Book One."

And my sentences... after reading Sue Lyndon's "Dark Without You," I dove head long into domestic discipline fiction. I found in it the relationships, the love that I wanted with my BDSM but too often found lacking. And yes, it is that very same Sue that I tried to use as a defense during this painfully funny conversation about DD and maintenance spankings with my Master.

"All these links- you want maintenance spankings?" Master looked like at me like I was crazy.

"Well yes please, Master." I smiled cutely at Him.

"How's that any different than what we already have?" He pulled me down across His lap and smacked my ass.

"But Master, it was totally hot when the guy in Sue's book spanked his wife every Saturday."

He rolled His eyes and grabbed His cruel back-scratcher.

For more Saturday Spanking pleasure, go check out their blog at: http://saturdayspankings.blogspot.com/

Iona- my dream Domme

"Kiss my boots, worm!" the domme screamed at the thin, pale man writhing on the floor in front of the sharp point of her stilettos.

"Yes, Goddess." The man lifted his head. His lips moved over the patten leather of her shoes. He moaned as he worshiped.

The domme lifted one stiletto and pushed the flat part against the submissive's face. "I should walk on you."

"Please, Goddess," the man whined.

Is this similar to what you think of when you see the words domme, femdom, female dominant? That was all I knew of female dominants until my dom Tom, a switch, started playing with a domme. She didn't wear stilettos, go around in corset bustiers all the time. She wasn't always a bitch either. True, she did enjoy getting me to say things that then got me into trouble with Tom, but she still wasn't behaving like a stereotype.

She however was not the domme from whom I built Iona. There was one other non-stereotypical domme I knew. She and I engaged in some public D/s at a coffeehouse we both enjoyed. Vala talks and thinks about how she enjoys Iona's domination often in her series. In dialogue, Iona even gets to tell the reader more of what she's thinking too. So as The Queen in a way started off as a way to go further with Tom than happened in real life, Iona has been that for me with that domme.

Now look at you, lucky reader :D. You got those few lines of fun BDSM at top. Now I'm going to get Iona a cup of hot chocolate, as if she had been the domme from the coffeehouse.

"Joelle, I want a hot chocolate," Iona orders.

I blink my eyes.

Iona rolls her eyes. "Ma'am."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll get you the hot chocolate, Ma'am." I hurry on my shaking, stiletto-clad legs to the bar. Where's Stacy? She has the bar tonight!

"She should be right back." Mark's voice comes to me from his usual seat against the wall.

"Thanks." Gods, I always wanna submit to you. But you've never seemed particularly interested. I anxiously look back and forth- Iona's probably getting impatient. What do I do?

"You look nervous. Put your head on my lap while you wait for Stacy."

I bite my bottom lip; I really shouldn't. We're just playing, Iona and I, but maybe it could be more.

Mark grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my face to his legs.

I moan softly. To be forced.

Iona presses her lips to my ear; she speaks so softly only I can hear, which somehow makes this worse. "What are you doing? I sent you to get me a drink, not to put your face on some random dom's lap!"

Before I can apologize, explain anything, my hair is wrapped around Iona's hand and she's pulling me to the back room, bent over and stumbling. Why'd I pick the 5 inchers tonight?

The back room is blissfully full of the fetish types this night.

Iona sits on an empty couch and pulls me with her, down onto her lap. "What should I do with you?"

"I... I'm sorry, Ma'am," I stutter.

"Sorry?" Iona pushes one hand under my skirt; I moan to feel her skin on my naked ass.

My legs fall open at her touch.

"Slut."

"Yes, Ma'am." I can't help.

Iona rummages in her handbag a moment. Her hand goes back under my skirt and a moment later, pain radiates through me from my cunt lips. A moment later, the matching bite of the clamp claims my clit.

"Ma'am," I whimper.

Iona grabs my chin and turns my head so I'm looking at her face. "Now that you're clamped, I hope you can focus on pleasing me."

"Yes, Ma'am." I press my lips together to hold in the cries and moans as she helps me onto the floor. I thought I was turned on by her care before now.

I know it's only a few yards to the bar, but it feels so far away. One small step at a time, the clamps torturing me. Serves me right to respond to Mark so.

I hear Mark's laugh before I see him. "And how is it your beautiful domme for the evening punished you?"

I snort. "And you didn't warn me why?"

"Because this is funny. And how?"

"Shut up. You're not my dom." I notice Stacy coming forward. "Stacy, I need a hot chocolate please." I hand her a $10. "Keep the change."

"Thanks." Stacy turns away.

"She put three clamps on me. I'll leave it to you to imagine where they are."

"So I shouldn't pull you to my lap this time?"

"Gods, please no." I might come without permission.

Mark grins.

Stacy approaches, the coffee cup in hand. "On top?"

"Whip cream, chocolate sprinkles, ground cinnamon, please."

"I made shavings from chocolate-covered espresso beans. Do you think your domme would like that?"

"Sure." Iona will love it! I carefully take the cup from Stacy. This is gonna suck. At a snail's pace, hoping no one bumps into me, I pick my way to the back room. "Ma'am?" My gaze on the cup, I carefully sink to my knees.

"Good girl." Iona takes the cup from me. She catches a dollop of the whipped cream with her tongue.

Ma'am? Oh!

"I am pleased."

I squeeze my eyes shut.

"After I finish, I may take you somewhere I can enjoy you naked."

"Please, Ma'am. Please."

A surprise coming...

Series... in an erotica authors group I'm in, I recently saw another author talking in frustration about trilogies. The various opinions, well, they're opinions and I decided to keep mine to myself. You see, while Vala's Story started off as birthday present for Tom, it grew... first to 8 books ranging from novella to epic novel. A beta reader suggested a good point to break the epic into 2 books, so now there's 9. "Out of the Night: Book One" is available in print, Kindle, and Nook editions- head over to "my books" page if you haven't bought your copy yet. I have the edits back on "Gates of the Garden: Book Two" from my editor and I'm slowly starting to work on those. In the next week or so, I may even share an excerpt after I've worked a fun scene over with her comments :D. Books 3 through 9 all have working titles, a few of them particularly set in stone :D, although I still have a "book 6" waiting for its name.

Have you wondered about The Queen's slaves coming and going... Tommy is still very much with him after 15 years, but do you wonder if there could have been a slave there 10 years who's gone away? Sometimes our relationships do change, even in fiction. So for today, a hint at a change coming in The Queen's life.

My dearest, sweetest Queen,

It's only been a few days since Billy and I left on your jet and I'm already missing you so. Why ever does this feel so different from when You went on a business trip? I know I'll be coming back, although not to your mansion. But I'll be back where you can get me without too much effort, my Queen. Is it that you were my first romantic love, the man who indulged in my virginity, even introduced me to my now-husband?

I have to laugh though, my Queen. Billy has been so entirely solicitous, going to great lengths to tend my needs, show how he loves me. Maybe all the jokes about me being the dom here aren't quite jokes. I thank you for the loan of Charlie Glickman's prostrate stimulation book, my Queen. It has been amazing playing with that. Billy's even reading it with me. While it certainly doesn't have to be about D/s, in a way it seems to be a lighter sort of D/s with him where I truly am the domme. It's been amazing, my Queen.

Are we really going to make this work? Can we make it work, my Queen? There really is nothing more I want than you and Billy in my life. Somehow though, it seems that having something closer to monogamy, in comparison to the stable and all of us slaves belonging to you, it almost makes it harder for me to picture it, my Queen. I'm glad that this triad is a new experience for us all.

Besides the prostate book, I've also been reading the UU book you lent around the amazing time we've been having here, my Queen. I think I may go check out the family's church; I'm not sure why I never did now. I really like this focus on covenant, my Queen. That it's about a promise of how to be, not a list of rules. And the focus on how a covenant is about the people in the relationship, those who hold the covenant.

In quiet moments, I still find my mind wandering to Billy wanting the three of us to make love, and how both of you used my body, my Queen. I can't put into words just how loved and desired you made me feel, my Queen. When you told me to feel what Billy was doing, to focus on it. Yes, I believe I'll be pulling Billy to bed after I'm done writing to you, my Queen.

I'm so completely happy! I found a cool journal here in a French Quarter shop. It looks old fashioned, bound in a creamy, brown leather. And it's thicker than many modern journals you see. I'm going to start the diary you commanded in it. I'll start writing in it tomorrow probably, my Queen. It'll be nice to take the time, the break from whatever is going on in my life to connect with you, especially during times when we're not physically together, my Queen.

Billy and I are going to go out and get dinner now so I'll end this letter, although not my thoughts about you, my Queen. I think I'll enjoy a steak tonight, thinking of you.

I love you forever and deeply,

my sweetest Queen.

your loving slave,

Kaya

Being a lifestyle submissive doesn't mean I never get angry

Yes, as my title states, just because I'm a submissive doesn't mean I don't every get angry. Hell, if we're talking about anyone but my Master, I can go from 0 to "homicidally angry" in seconds lol.

I believe I've commented a few times about my Master's shitty work schedule. Don't get me wrong- He has a great paying job that allows us to live a decent level of comfort while my jobs don't bring any significant amount of money into our finances. He loved going to work, until management changed to the current horrendous schedule. 3-2-2... don't know what that means? Well join the rest of the world; when talking to people, I find I'm usually defining that. 3 days on, 2 off, 2 on, 3 off, 2 on, 2 off. He doesn't have the same day of the week off 2 weeks in a row. Add to that the 12 hour shifts, an hour a day spent in commute, and once a month shift swings (from day shift to midnights)- I'm sure most people can picture what that'd do to any relationship.

Master is constantly tired, constantly sick. Things needed fixed around the house can go for days, even weeks in the case of the kitchen sink. He also disagrees with me on a bunch of things, from religion to politics. He hates all political correctness, even as I see some good and some bad in it. In the election cycle where Sarah Palin was the Republican vice president candidate, I have to say to Him- "Master, if You want me to keep a submissive tongue in my head, You gotta not talk to me about that woman!" At the time, He thought she was great.

I think when it comes down to it- Master tries to talk about things before they get bad enough to be an argument, encourages me to talk openly (no needing to ask permission to speak openly as the slaves in Vala's Story do) about what I'm feeling. Of course, a lifetime of avoiding confrontation in my closest relationships and my first tendency to keep my feelings to myself (as a bipolar person, I know my emotions can be overwhelming to those who aren't and I never want my bipolar to cause another person discomfort, even if I'm forever failing that with my Master), these tendencies complicate matters. When the communication is going better though, I certainly have a lot less anger, but the bigger thing is how I try to handle my anger. It isn't always good- I internalize, take out my anger on myself far too often. Then there's the days that I manage to funnel my anger into a hot BDSM scene in a story. I might get whiny and try to provoke Shaman into beating me, whether He's necessarily interested in BDSM activity at the moment. But that whiny is the closest I'll get to any of the more common fighting that happens in a male/female relationship in this culture. With the recent exception of the sink (I kept mentioning the sink until Master ordered me not to say "the sink"), I tend to avoid nagging behaviors. The idea of screaming and/or swearing at Shaman- yeah, that doesn't work for me either. LOL, sure during the day as I stew about how I'm irritated, I might get as far as calling Him a dumb fuck in the internal babble that's always in my mind, but to His face? Nope, there's not going to be any dumb fucks, even with His title attached.

In a way, I've chosen to let my submission, my involvement in a BDSM relationship to inspire me to better behavior. Which in effect means treating my Master not just with the respect that is due that role, but treating Him in a more decent way, a way all people should try to treat each other.

Would you have sex, engage in BDSM outside?

Shaman led me along the path. "Let's get just a little farther away."

"Yes, Master." Glad I wore boots, I picked along through the brush behind Him.

He glanced at the trees as we walked.

After a few moments' more walk, He stopped; my knees locked as I stopped quickly. He cut off a switch.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth- I'd never been switched before.

Shaman grabbed me at the waist and pushed my face down. He yanked my skirt up to bare my naked ass.

Before I could draw a breath, the switch whipped against my thighs, nasty, stinging lashes crueler than any flogger in His toy bag. I could see my knuckles turning white where they pushed into my knees. Just when I thought I couldn't handle another lash without crying aloud, I heard the stick drop to the ground just before He pushed me there.

"Open up." Shaman shoved His cock between my parting lips.

I groaned, sticks, rocks, random things pushing into my legs. I groaned again as He pushed His cock all the way in my mouth; when'd He get hard? On the walk here? When He was switching me? Around vanillas, so I'd been behaving and not groping.

Shaman grasped my head in both hands. His cock pushed at the back of my throat.

I gagged; He groaned. I struggled to swallow His cum as it welled in my throat.

He pulled out. "Kilts are good."

I coughed. "Yes, Master," I whimpered. With His help, I struggled to my feet. I bit my bottom lip, hoping I'd get to come later.

Ah yes, the wonders of playing outdoors. Of course, it does require some level of privacy, like the acres of forest around the place we were hanging out with friends having a bonfire in the above scene. However, things to play with are practically just laying around- or hanging from a tree :D. Living in the suburbs, I have a lot less chance for this- with my allergy to the sun, this isn't very sad to me. I was covered in a dress (that still was easily lifted) and it was getting dusk- those things helped my Master.

In Vala's Story, it's quite different. I haven't felt the need to give any of the characters my allergy to the sun. And The Queen's mansions is really out there, in the middle of nowhere somewhere in the Catskills' area of New York. There's trees, land, plenty of privacy. I've let the slaves run around naked, fuck, engage in BDSM activity all outside. Two of the most touching scenes in the series take place in the back yard- you'll have to wait on those- they are in the seventh and ninth books.

Yiska in particular loves to be outside, to be fucking and dominating his submissives amongst the trees. At first with him, I debated if I was stereotyping him. After all, I've read a ton about Native Americans, including research on the American Indian Movement, the "Free Leonard Peltier" movement- yes, I'm in far more sympathy with the people group wanting their freedom of self-identity and determination than the government seeking to control them. However, I have no close friend who is native. I have never dated a Native American of any tribe. And as I debated about Mandisa- the black woman born in Africa, having lived under the horrors of apartheid. In the end, I've decided that I avoid specifically eroticizing their racial difference from the mostly white make up of the the stable and its Master, The Queen.

But here I'm off on identity matters and I was talking about outside play :D. hm. So I'm thinking matters like lube and condoms, other barriers (if/when you use them) would or could be trickier outside. After all, we do want to throw away our waste properly, right? lol I like the idea of using what's there, like my Master cutting the switch, although that calls to question the use and abuse of the outside. Outside play could also be about the chance, the excitement at, the taboo of getting caught. That's never been a thrill for me although it's certainly there for some. If things like floggers, whips are being played with, well then that adds a level of difficulty in making sure there's plenty of space for the dom to swing.

Ah, but here's hoping someone with more experience comments... Maybe my friend MJ has an outdoor scene she'd like to share :D?

The naturally occurring BDSM relationship

I've been doing a lot of writing and thinking in the past few weeks. There's been quite a few posts somehow related to the censorship on Facebook of consensual BDSM pages. While it's uncertain what the cause behind it is: articles blaming the "Women, Action, & the Media" page as well as Facebook's advertisers have been written by others. Then there have been my response posts: feminism and my thoughts on the censorship, my thoughts about a woman's rant saying female submissive can't consent to BDSM. Only slighted related to the censorship, but more related to my notion of a naturally forming BDSM relationship is my post that started out as a defense of a friend's book against a harsh reviewer but in the end became about "judging each others' kinks."

Now among all these articles, my posts, signing of various petitions (Facebook: Stop targeting BDSM pages as violence against women. and Facebook: To successfully petition Facebook to change their Terms of Service.) I started thinking about what my Master and I have done. How our relationship has evolved. Going back to the "judging" post, I want to start talking about soft/hard limits. For those who need it, let me definite those terms as I understand them: soft limits are things you might try in time and hard limits are something you refuse to try. Like I think at the beginning of our relationship, my Master might have said watersports were a soft limit for Him; however He's since found out I find it a total turn on (when we're in the shower and clean up is easy). Enemas are a hard limit for Him; He won't be in the room while I'm doing one and would rather not be told that I have had one. A hard limit of mine is a male other than Him touching me in a sexual manner; we don't swing in part because of that because we can't do a "full swap" as the swinging lingo goes. But you know what? Before the first time He and I had sex, before the first time we engaged in BDSM activities. We didn't sit down with a questionnaire. "Master, do You like deep-throating?" "Joelle, do you enjoy dressing up like a chicken and dancing on a table?" (Actually that second one is from my Master's joke about pre-marital sex- "Your wedding night isn't the time to find our your spouse needs to dress like a chicken and dance on a table to get off.")

Things came up in conversation naturally as we got to know each other. It's been about 14 or so years now- you remember that my Master started off as one leg of a polyamorous triad, but my now-ex-husband was an abusive jerk so I stayed with Master and cut ex out of my life, right? In just the past few months, He found I enjoy breath play; I didn't even realize that about myself. He's been experimenting slowly, carefully with it and has found it improves my orgasms. In just the last few days, He's been enjoying these elastic cuffs I found at a Spencer's Gifts (although I couldn't find them on their website.) I didn't buy anything at Tri-Cities Pride so when I stopped at Fashion Square Mall to cool down, I decided to buy the $9.99 "love cuffs"- I think that's what they were called- and those being the main thing that didn't offensively have something to do with FSoG, I bought them. Well He's found that I'm relaxing and becoming more responsive while in bondage, at least those cuffs. His horrendous work schedule tends to keep Him tired though so we have more days than not that we appear hopelessly vanilla; one of my vents- you know we're a long term couple and often enough, our concerns are that of any long term couple.

Speaking of polyamory, that has been one of those things talked about as we went, although the notion of sitting down, writing everything out and signing it, yeah that doesn't work for Shaman and I either. Shaman btw is my Master's nickname, if I've never used it before. Sometimes I think only showing Him as "Master" or "my Master" lends this dark, mysterious "dadadda BDSM dominant" thing that just really isn't my Master. Shaman say a t-shirt once, "I'm not into it for all the funny clothes." That fits Him so well; that's the Man I love, one who can confidently dominant me standing naked at the bed side, across the gaming store wearing jeans and "I hate Magic" t-shirt, wherever. "No men"- that's an easy one. The idea of another cisgender male touching me makes me ill. Of course, it fits with His territorial "I don't want another man to touch you." The conversation is still on-going regarding transgender people- He didn't feel like reading beyond parts 1 and 2 with Chyna-the-hypothetical-MTF-transgender-fan. However, unless I specifically going searching "Hey Ms Right who happens to be a MTF," He's not interested in having the conversation. I might be irritated about that, but I'm choosing to encourage myself to patience, to waiting on His pleasure in talk. And who knows, maybe Ms. Right will message me like Chyna did so then I'll be able to look at Him and say, "So the tranny [because it'll shock Him that I'm using politically incorrect language like He often does] emailed me and she wants to get to know me better."

What I'm -watching- Wednesday....

yeah yeah, I can imagine some purist out there- but you're supposed to post what you're reading not what you're watching. Well I'm taking part in Camp Nano the first time this July and my thought has turned to how I can both accomplish my goal (40K words in a month) while keeping my sanity, keeping my Master happy, keeping the house somewhat clean etc etc

I few weeks ago, He stumbled upon "Lost" on Netflix. I'm not sure He'd really ever heard of the show before, but He quickly found Himself interested. In the process of watching the whole show, I'd occasionally catch a bit while in His den. He kept saying, "You need to watch this."

So in conversations around plot arcs etc, Shaman put a theory forward that works for me- too many people want straightforward plots that finish up neatly in the allotted time- like Star Trek. While others want a bunch of plots, sub-plots, enjoy a piece of media that challenges you to think, to follow, and if you miss one episode of the show, you're screwed and should wait until you can start at the beginning of the season in reruns- like Babylon 5. Well after starting to watch "Lost," based on descriptions, conversations about, vents about reviews etc I've shared with my Master about Vala's series as a whole and "Out of the Night: Book One" as the only published book so far, He's now saying that He thinks I'm functioning like the scriptwriters for "Lost." :D

So one of the things I plan to do every other day or so during July, during Camp Nano, is to watch an episode of "Lost." I watched the pilot episode yesterday and yeah, I love it. Admittedly, I was already hooked while Master was watching it and I was just waiting for Him to finish the series so I could then start at the beginning on Netflix.

Hm. The pilot. Yes, I'm already loving the forward and backward time in the storytelling. But then I love Dr. Who as well. Plus in crafting Vala's Story, I'm loving giving just a little knowledge of events here and there, sometimes from characters' POVs the reader wasn't expecting. It was wonderfully dramatic watching the character of Jack wandering through his coming-to and finding as a doctor, he was desperately needed. It was great to see the moment when it almost clicked, the I'm-a-doctor-and-will-be-calm-in-this-crisis. It was cool seeing some of these characters whose faces have become familiar to me through my Master's watching of the show at the beginning of the show. The introduction of the big bad force was amazing, watching the camera work and special effects. Yeah, in a way I wish there wouldn't have been so much conversation about it at first- maybe I wouldn't have avoided it for so long. I look forward to the next episode and the rest of the series.