New Year

My birthday is always regarded as my new year. I use the actual day to go over what I’ve lost and learned and to simply accept all the lessons I was given and to review how I think I handled them and how I’ll handle them in the future. Once I get through all of that, and regarding this year especially, I like to take time to think about who made it through this year with me.

There were a few casualties, such as dil. He seemed so promising but I got caught up in the excitement of a new relationship, in a boy with the promise of a life I’ve never seen before, and while I felt I took into account the difficulties the arrangement would offer us, the lesson wasn’t actually to be with him, but to challenge the ideas that I had on sexuality, gender, and marriage.

Another that I thought I had lost was Joey. We met at about the same time and we were good play partners for a couple of months in there. We would go out on occasion and I could call on him if I needed him in a pinch, but otherwise we were always scheduling around a roommate or a change in life rather than being able to just be and just do as we pleased. I can see now that the lesson here was to be open, to be less biased about age, and to accept the idea that sexuality and intimacy can come in many forms, not just through sex. I was pleasantly surprised to find that he actually made it through the year with me and will more than likely make an appearance in this next leg of my journey.

Another casualty was Stephanie, who never really grew to her full potential. It just wasn’t her time, really. We spent many weeks talking and discussing all that would come of her transformation. Ultimately real life obligations made her feel as though she couldn’t really emerge the way that she wanted and even though we had made arrangements for her to explore her sexuality and submission in the privacy of my own home or small gatherings, it never came to be. While we didn’t keep in touch, I didn’t forget her, and she really paved the way to me determining what it was I sough in a sub, if I truly wanted a feminine male or a girl or something somewhere else on the gender spectrum. She also helped me identify what I liked about the difference between cross dressers, gender ambiguous people, and transgendered people.

Next was Sergie, who has made it through this entire year and our relationship is still going strong. In fact, we just celebrated 90 days of chastity. We actually met via CollarMe (someone I always forget to list when I talk about how all of my good pets have come from that site) and were pen pals long before we actually decided to engage in any kind of play whatsoever. He heard me talking about each of my partners and he trusted me with a list of his fetishes — the kind that aren’t listed on a profile.He’s taught me that my darker fetishes don’t always have to stay in the closet — while there are plenty of people out there terrified of how far my Sadism can reach, there are those like him that only hope they can someday get to the back of that closet.

Erif, the boy with no laces. We didn’t start out as good friends. In fact, we were introduced to one another as ‘the third in tonight’s threesome’ by our mutual boyfriend/friend at the time. I don’t know that I’ve ever had such an awkward introduction and if I had never seen him again after that night I probably would have been okay with that. As it was, he was dating one of my good friends, Mimsy, and so I did see him quite a bit. We had a fun straightjacket/water torture scene at his first party. We ended up drifting apart for a while after that but reconnected a couple of months later and were practically inseparable. He’s taught me a great many lessons in the short amount of time that we’ve gotten close. Primarily that just because he’s young doesn’t mean he’s emotionally immature — a lesson I was desperate to learn. He’s taught me plenty about his lifestyle, about the boys that he’s attracted to, and we share interests in Master/slave and leather relationships.

As the clock was ticking down to my birthday, we were making rounds around the city, dropping people off. By the time the clock struck midnight, I was left with those that are most important to me right now. As the hours passed, people seemed to wish me happy birthday in the order of importance, which was something that I found incredibly amusing.

Once home, quarter after midnight, four hours to go before I had to get up for work, I was busy letting the dog out and getting my mental list prepared so I wouldn’t forget anything for work the next day. As I was stepping out of my shoes, the rook was stepping up to me. The night had been long and full of tension. I’d just driven one of his love interests out of his life and was well on my way to doing it again. I’d actually had a meeting with one of them prior to the evening’s social to discuss a few matters with her, such as the importance of clean slates, of forgiveness, of allowing a person to become someone new and not holding their past mistakes against them. We’d teased back and forth and have often jested that the person who hits the hardest wins, gets to be on top. Until this evening he’d never won. He’d always restrained himself. He’d always let me throw the winning punch. This time I was asking for it though and he delivered. It’s not that I necessarily wanted to feel him punch me in the arm — I was already aware of his strength — it was just that I didn’t want him to always let me get away with more than I should. I wanted him to push back. We don’t have a D/s relationship (beyond mentorship which is something entirely different) and while I appreciate that he lets me make the calls, I want to know that he won’t be walked all over.

That night, I felt a white hot pain inside of me that I hadn’t felt in years. It didn’t come as a surprise in timing, just in force. Even he was surprised that he had hit as hard as he did. It took me a few minutes to get over it. To process the pain, to delve into it, to surround it, to swallow it down. It took me a few minutes to silence the world and to heal myself and to understand the implications of it all. It took me a few minutes for my stomach to settle and to really embrace the fact that I got exactly what I was asking for — on many different levels. But it took me a few minutes more to realize that my reaction to all of this was completely different than it would have been a year ago. A year ago I would have shut down entirely, even if I completely deserved what had come my way. A year ago, I would have lost all trust in him because he made physical contact with me, even in a pre-negotiated way. A year ago, I would have been shocked. While I turned away from him, mostly so he couldn’t watch me processing it all, I didn’t close myself down at all. I heard his apology — and he was clear that he wasn’t apologizing for slugging me, but for the amount of force behind it — and accepted it. When he came near me to hug me, I didn’t push him away. When he left the table, he dropped a kiss to the top of my head and it made me smile. And by the time he returned, everything was just as right as rain. Except my arm. Which had just been punched and was a little sore.

When he stepped up to me as I was taking care of business, it would have been easy to shut down, brush him aside. I stayed open in ways I didn’t ever think I could though and before I could say or do anything, his mouth was on mine. He pulled me close, his fingers in my hair, and I was able to drift away for just a moment. That tug-of-war ensued for only a moment before I relented. He did exactly what he said he’d do, he followed through in action what he stated in words, and he’s one of the few people in my life that have ever been able to do that. While I suppose on some level trust should have been eliminated, it was only built. I let him take that kiss as far as he wanted, as hard as he wanted, for as long as he wanted — after all, he threw the winning punch and so got to be on top.

Moments later, after the smell of smoke faded and his taste was more a memory, my next birthday wish came in the form of a much softer kiss. I wrapped my arms around Junk and I took those kisses from her. Soft and quick and playful, the way our relationship feels to me. I like to feel as though I could shield her from the negativity in the world and present her only for the positive. It doesn’t always work that way, of course, but that’s what I like to imagine. Our relationship is non-traditional in that it’s based off of service, but I’m lucky enough to be able to share affection with her as well. I can hold her hand and play with her and kiss her and pet her and beat her. I can take her out and curl up with her on the couch. She’s one of the very few people in my life I’d allow to serve me and I’m hoping that our future together will be bright. I’m hoping that I can encourage her to chase romance in other partners, to explore her sexuality as often as she can safely manage, and that I can be a stable influence in her life no matter what path she eventually chooses.

After a few hours of sleep and a long drive to work, my first text came through. My best friend, Miss Chris, wishing me well in this upcoming year. I’d asked her what I should request of the Universe for this year, what I should ask to learn, and she gave me some sound advice, as she always has. This year I’ll take what I learned and apply it. I’ll ask to build on top of it but mostly, I’ll ask to just be. To just process everything that’s happened to me. She’s been my rock in the past years and I never had to wonder if she would make it through this year with me. I had to wonder how the friendship would change since we wouldn’t see each other every day any longer. She was there for me at each turbulent moment. When I lost dil. When I lost devin. She was there through it all. She laughs at me when I need laughed at. She supports me when I don’t feel I can go on. She encourages me when I’d rather just stomp my feet and pout. She makes sure I know when I’m being stupid. Most of all, she lets me wander around and figure things out on my own so that I don’t have to make the same mistake twice.

Then came the message from devin. I didn’t want to hope for it, because I didn’t want to be let down if it didn’t come. I didn’t want to feel like I was waiting for it, like it was more important than anything else. There was a time where he absolutely could have been the most important person in my life, but that time isn’t now. Luckily for me, he alleviated all of that by messaging early. I got to talk to him about what was going on in my life and I got to ask him about his. Previously we’d discussed the idea of being friends and there was still some hurt that I had leftover from the way things ended. I had asked the Universe for resolution by my birthday. I had asked that if he was meant to be a part of my life for longer than this year that he be carried through into this next year in whatever relationship the Universe felt was best for us. There was only relief when I got to speak to him on the first day of the new year. I’ve learned too much from him to be able to sum up in a paragraph. Some of the lessons were good and positive and some of them hurt. Some of them were as simple as learning to be intimate with a person in a sexual sense and some of them were as complex as learning that just because we’re connected to a person doesn’t mean that the time we meet them is the right time to have them. One of the greatest gifts he gave me was the inspiration to delve back into my own spirituality and that’s a gift that I’ll carry with me regardless of my relationship with him, regardless of where our paths take us, regardless of where our hearts wander.

Hour by hour I received a new wish, another greeting, words to welcome me into my new year. I got them from some that I didn’t expect (Tibbers) and some that I was excited to hear from. And at the end of the day I realized I had what my first wish of the previous year had been: people to finally celebrate my birthday with.

In a few hours, I’ll be sitting around a table with those I hold closest to me (with only one missing) dining with them, sharing stories with them, and enjoying our moments together. There really is nothing more wonderful than a birthday, than a year of experiences, than a clean slate.

I Can’t Promise You The World Part 2

I really don’t handle losing bets well. I had to pay up though. I got a curious look from my bank teller when I said I needed to make a withdrawal of $10. Most likely because I waited in line for 10 minutes to do this when the ATM was right next to me and empty the entire time. “In quarters.”

Oh yes. I took $10 in quarters and hid it around my house. By ‘hid’ I mean I left a trail for him to follow so he always knew where I wanted him to be. Start at the door and work counter clockwise. I handed him the duster. I was going to have him change into his rainbow stockings just for fun but Breaking Bad was on. On because he was kind enough to bring it over for me to watch while he did this. If he was wearing rainbow stockings he would have had my attention 100% and we couldn’t have that. I’d say he found about $8.75 in quarters before we were finished. The majority of the time was spent cleaning some rod that hangs above me that was coated in I don’t even know what and carrying boxes and mirrors and old benches and stools and pictures to the dumpster. It was hot out, he’d been tired, the place looked a lot better, so we called it quits there.

One thing that I’ve found he really enjoys is being pet. In the very innocent sort of way, where I can trace my fingernails down the back of his neck and rub his hair and sometimes he looks like he might drop off into sleep (which promptly ruled doing so in the car out entirely) or start kicking a leg. It’s my way of showing affection as well, so it works out best for us both. I climbed onto the couch next to him and pet him for a while. Then I leaned in to kiss him and he reciprocated well, like he always does. His energy was completely different tonight. A tired puppy indeed. Slow, calm, and relaxed. Not usually the energy I get from him.

I tried to keep things light and innocent for a while but I never can keep my hands off my favorite toy, and since my favorite toy happens to go home when he does, I only have so much time to play with it anytime he’s over. Besides, I bought a paint brush and a sponge to try CBT with. I know, I know, CBT veterans around the world have gone to war with their cocks and have lived to tell the tale: weights, needles, chemicals. A paint brush and a sponge? Let’s just say that most of the time touching him is unintentional CBT and so I wanted to ramp things up a little. It was delicious, in case you were wondering.

The point of the night wasn’t to torture his cock though, it was to show the kind of service that I like and to receive service in a way that I don’t normally. If I were smart, I’d just have pets come over and do things for me for a while and if they manage to do well in that area, move into playing with them. But this one in particular was sought out (oh alright, he sought me) specifically to have someone to try new toys and techniques on. I like to think that someday he will be the best submissive ever to some Mistress and I like to think I’ll have a helping hand in that. Gotta train them when they’re young/impressionable.

Things wound down with him making me a copy of the show, some music, and trying hard not to let me read his resume which had somehow ended up on his flash drive, because I’m horribly embarrassing and always tell him how awesome he is and how adorable I think he is and seeing all of his credentials just makes me grin all the more. He is a good boy. Despite the Nada, Bored comment (and subsequent post) he really is a very good pup. And boy. And he will be a wonderful man too, I’m sure of it.

On top of my cleaned living room, the learning how to better interact with my dog so he doesn’t spaz out quite so bad for quite so long, and the foot rub that I got while relaxing on the floor listening to music last night, there was one comment that stood out in my mind that he’d made just recently.

A few days ago, I was trying to urge someone to join APEX, get involved in our local community, go to some kind of munch so I could just happen to be chillaxing there with a plate of pancakes (and my puppy!) to make a more formal introduction. Because I can’t drive myself on the weekends, I rely on Joey for any transportation that I could possibly want. He’s very good about making the drive, or making stops when he’s already visiting to ensure that I get what I need. This time though, it would have been a special, out of the way trip. So I asked him ‘Could you do me a favor?’ and he replied ‘It depends on what it is’ and of course, I had to tease him. (Right, it might be too soon to be teasing him about bad remarks, but that’s me.) ‘I think your response is supposed to be ‘Whatever you want!” and his response to that was ‘I can’t promise you the world’.

Ah, yes. I know how that might look. I even know how it might sound coming out of the mouths of most people. However, when he said it, I grinned. I wished I could hug him, but sadly, they haven’t created a way to hug via text effectively. Strange response? I find that one of the faults of many, many people, submissives and vanillas alike, coming from a lot of the men I’ve personally meet, is that they will promise the world and then can’t deliver. For this reason, the words ‘I promise’ mean absolutely nothing to me. Actually, ‘I promise’ actually means ‘I will disappoint you’ in my world, so I just ignore them if they say such foolish things. While young, he is definitely not stupid, and I honestly couldn’t be prouder of the response he gave.

Because of it, I’ll forgive him the ‘Nada, Bored’ response and drop it. I will not let him forget the monstrosity of a walk we endured on our first date because he wouldn’t park where I told him to though. That one’s going to be around for as long as he is.

I Can’t Promise You The World

This past week at work was a mess. One of my bosses decided to schedule me for a shift that I couldn’t possibly work without some outside help. Since the car accident, kitty’s been left without a car, so he uses mine to get to work. He works late; I work early. This works out! Thursday and Friday of last week, I had to work late. This didn’t work out! I had to arrange to get someone to drive 80 miles in one day to pick me up, take me to work, drop me off home, and then go back to where they lived, right next to work. I was not pleased. I don’t know why this person even agreed to help me out! But she did, and it was sweet of her. I bought her dinner and gave her gas money. She had to repeat the morning trip on Friday but Friday night I had covered.

Joey probably had no idea what he was getting himself into when I messaged him and asked if he’d be willing to pick me up from work, instead of meeting me at my house like usual. I explained that I worked a little ways out, but if he would do this for me, it would increase his rank in the Teh Bestest Pet Ever competition he didn’t previously know he was competing in. At first I think he was tentative. I guessed this because he asked me just how far out I worked. “Just follow the freeway you usually take to get to my house to the end.” To the end of what, I could hear him asking? “To the end of the freeway.” Joey is very, very expressive. Not always through words though. Usually just his deep, brown eyes. Via text, it comes out like this: O.O

“Best pet ever?” was what he asked in return and I knew he was hooked. It might have also had something to do with the fact that I mentioned pets that could offer service as well as their backside always got me revved up, and I wasn’t entirely lying about that either. Oh, and if he picked me up, we’d have to go get this flogger I was looking at. C’mon now, it was pay day.

Friday night, he came to hang out with me at work for a while. He drove me to the store to buy the new flogger that we’d played with together the time before last when we went to buy new lube for him. This is a beautiful flogger that I almost missed in the dark of the dungeon. I’d found a whip, one without a handle, that was designed to look like barbed wire. This pushed all the right buttons for me because when I was a little younger, I used to have fantasies of tying up boys in rough rope and barbed wire, but I just couldn’t find a good way to get barbed wire into the place without breaking SSC. Now that they’d made a leather alternate, I was hooked. I lashed him with this and the way he jumped and swore had me sold. Oh, but there was no handle. However was I going to work this? Just then, peering down into the darkness, on the next shelf, which was home to floggers, I found it: a suede flogger with falls of leather barbed wire in them. I snatched that baby up and Joey barely had time to turn around to offer his back to me before it fell upon him. The same reaction! Glorious!

Well now that it was pay day, I had to have it. And have it I would!

After that, we made our way back to my house. I knew I wanted to use that on him. I also knew that I couldn’t use just that on him or we wouldn’t each have a wonderful time. Tonight we’d do a proper warm-up.

Usually when he comes over, I give him time to get in the door. I don’t kiss him right off, because it’s too much like a relationship he’s said (although I’m beginning to think he can see how this all fits together) so instead I just let him join me in the living room and we talk for a bit. The dog (the real dog) is always super excited to see him and I think it’s best that he gets some attention first, if we want him to leave us alone at all while we’re playing.

Then comes the magic moment, when the dog winds down a bit, and Joey looks at me, waiting to see what I want to do. “Strip!”. It’s said with some enthusiasm, usually. Sometimes deadpan, but with a smile. It’s so entertaining to me because he is still so shy. He watches me when he can, but otherwise looks around to everything else in the living room while he casually pulls off his shirt and lowers his pants. It’s always the hesitation at the waistband of his underwear that makes me smile. I reassure him that I’ve seen him naked before and he laughs nervously. It doesn’t make it any easier this time around.

Tonight was different though. For one, he was standing on the other side of the room. I’d ignored him up until then, trying to get some music started so the neighbors didn’t hear the sounds of floggers. When he looked at me, I went straight for him. A kiss. There was no collar around his neck yet — it wasn’t part of the scene — but it appeared to be okay. I kissed him and helped him undress. It was as smooth as I can be, which really means it wasn’t smooth at all. I’m used to him taking his socks and shoes off when he gets in the door, tucking them under the coffee table where his furry bff can’t thieve his socks away for a vacation while we’re playing. I got all of his clothes off his body, had my fingers curling around his hard cock, and then realized my mistake. Oh well. He wasn’t shy undressing that time, and that was all that mattered.

In a matter of seconds he’d finished the job that I’d started and climbed onto the couch, kneeling away from me. I started with the old flogger, Old Trusty. I can swing and fling and flap and hit and thwap with that all night long. I can really get into it too. Usually I’m pretty good with it but he’d tell you there’s been one or two strikes to the side, completely unintentional. I wasn’t quite lined up right when I let go — premature flogging, due to excitement. Each time that I bring it out, I try to hit him harder and harder. He admitted once that part of him really wants me to hit him as hard as I can and the sane part of him is glad that I don’t. We’ll get there. I know this because I can see how far we’ve gone in such a short amount of time.

Caning is another favorite and while I usually tend to keep like toys together, which would have meant the new flogger would have come second, I didn’t think he was ready to go from thuddy to super stingy. I have a very thick cane that’s very thuddy and bamboo canes that are very stingy. I’m positive that they both got used. I’m positive that he did not get such a warm up for the bamboo canes. I can attest to this because there was more time spent sitting upright, breathing, then hunched over with his ass pushed out ready to accept another strike. So little effort; so much pain. I love these canes.

After that came the paddle. My paddle is beautiful. Thick, wooden, covered in sandpaper. It was frightening enough that pup, the construction worker, felt the need to point out the quality of the sandpaper and assure me that that was the real deal, this wasn’t fine grain to help save skin. Thanks pup! To anyone less experienced with sandpaper, it just hurts. I made sure that it hurt Friday night too.

Once I was done with the paddle, there was a crop. The crop is lovely because it makes the best smacking sounds ever when it connects with an ass. Especially a lovely ass that’s made to accommodate the size of the heart at the end. He’d jump when I hit him hard. He’d jump when he thought I was going to hit him hard. Friday night was all about pushing him and making him hurt. He’d mentioned that he thought I might make him bleed that night. I told him I hoped I would.

One major difference in the way we played Friday night was that I paid some special attention to his nipples, primarily by thwacking them with the bamboo cane and ensuring that they were rubbed by sandpaper. I remember him specifically pointing out later on that his nipples hurt while the rest of his body was mostly just a dull ache.

Finally we got to it: the new flogger. I tried to go light, I really did. It’s much heavier than Old Trusty though. I wasn’t quite used to the feel of it. I tried to swing it around behind him before I made contact but I was aroused. The first fall hurt him more than I was expecting but he put on his brave face for me. We have this agreement going that the less he says ‘fuck’ in normal circumstances, the happier I am. When I’m beating him, he can say ‘fuck’ all he wants and I don’t care. I think it’s hot, actually. Well, when this flogger came out to play, that was all I heard. Thwack, fuck, thwack, fuck. Amazing.

Afraid that he might not be able to handle it, I crawled up on the couch behind him, I pressed the handle of the flogger against his collared neck and pulled him back against my body. I told him ‘This is your one chance to get out of this if you want. You can ask me to stop right now, and I’ll put the flogger away.’ He swallowed, breathed for a second, and asked, ‘What do you want?’. I was thrilled. I was so turned on. ‘I want you to take more for me.’ So he nodded, I let him go, and I hit him more. To ensure that we didn’t go too far though, I made him answer in numbers. One a scale from one to five, one being my light strikes with Old Trusty and 5 being oh god, stop please, he was to let me know where he was at all times. I got a three, a four, and a lot of fucks. Never a five. We didn’t go for much longer though — I was too turned on.

I put the toys to rest. I had him climb down off the couch and kneel in front of me. I pet him for a moment, but then I remembered that my favorite toy was out to play. Reaching down, I began to stroke his cock. He knelt nicely, letting me play. He let me know when he was getting close. He’s never allowed to orgasm without permission. One of my favorite things about him is how sensitive the head of his cock is. Just touching it is an amazing experience for me. So I dragged my fingers over it, masturbating just that part of him, and watched with delight when he actually pulled his entire self away from me to get a moment’s reprise. When he was getting too close, we stopped.

Here’s where things go a little soft, a little vanilla. Picture some kissing, some rubbing, and a boy wearing a collar for me working to get me off in a new and exciting way for him that would probably elicit some yawns from the rest of us. Not that it mattered to me — I orgasmed.

After that, I pushed him back, had him sit at the corner of the couch, and told him to jerk off. In a matter of minutes he was riding the edge, fighting between doing what I told him to now (masturbate) and doing what I told him to always (don’t come until I tell him to). This is always an exciting game for me. He asked. He begged. I gave in way too easily, but he’d done me proud with all the pain he took. He came and I told him I loved the smell of it — like fresh rain.

After that, I took the boy out to eat so he wouldn’t starve to death. Waffles at midnight are a godsend. He made a bet, as we were both yawning, the he couldn’t stay up until 4am. What? Why would either of us agree to that? Because he shook my hand for so long that we were holding hands over the table in the middle of IHOP while not in a “relationship”, that’s why. I knew as soon as he got home and had constant stimulation he’d be able to make it. The wager? $10.

Needless to say, I lost the bet. Tonight I pay up. I have my own creative way of feeling better for losing though, which ties into service, which ties into “I Can’t Promise You the  World”. Tune in later!