Rope Dance

Ropework: Austin Jake; picture: Houston Jake; me in the middle

Oh, my! Writer's block. I'm getting so frustrated right now, I don't know what to do. Perhaps half the problem is my extreme urge to have a mind bending, soul ripping, gut wrenching, lip biting, back scratching, tear filled fuck session with a 9 inch stud to make me sing in 10 different languages and chant in 5 others. Going to the store and seeing two of the hottest 6 foot +, bald headed, solidly corn fed, beef cake men has warped my mind to where I can't even think. I'm not eevn srue if I can tihnk stgariht rhigt now! One black, one mexican american. Hell! I don't discriminate, I'm like the UN, I'm trying to unite all the nations that are skilled at eating pussy and servicing me. (Isn't that their latest mission?)

Anyway, I was trying to write my blog on an awesome Rope top that I re-met at the WhatKnot. Oh, his strict bondage had my heart skipping beats and my body pre-orgasmic from the moment he bound me in that hobble style manner. The compression of the Rope around my chest, hips, ass, thighs. For as bad as I wanted to spread my legs to accept more pleasure, this added immensely to his binding them closed. Then he had me kneel and applied a gag made of jute and bound my head so my body was forced in a hyperflexed position. How delicious this felt I can't even explain in human words. If anyone were to ask, I'd have to explain in gentle sighs, moans and groans. At one point, he got eye to eye with me and gave this sweetly impish smile that made my heart skip merrily through fields of Bermuda grasses naked with the sun warming my entire body. Oddly enough, the smile also reminded me that he was in control of not just my body, but my mind and my reaction in his hands.

The untying was just as sensuous as the tying, with the lengths of Rope gliding across my skin slow enough for me to feel each fiber rolled into it. We maintained some form of physical touch for closeness which helped to reassure me, which I'm unsure of why I needed the reassurance but I did anyway. Touching his hand, leaning my body against his chest, sitting across his lap to then lift my hips to assist in Its removal and to draw my body closer at the same time. It was a divine dance that ended abruptly when I realized (or remembered) that we were in a room full of people. Don't get me wrong, not everyone was looking, but for some strange reason I became embarrassed. It felt as if we had just made love in front of a large group of people and whether they were paying attention or not, I became embarrassed. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist about certain things, and it was a feeling I haven't had in all my times of playing in front of others so this is unusual for me.

Either way, I had an awesome afternoon and evening. I may have to see about an encore.

Mr. Vanilla

Image: http://www.art-magazin.de/kunst/3674/tilt

My Mr. Vanilla not only states he is vanilla, but vehemently denies any desire for kink in any form. This is making our relationship a difficult and taxing one where we are at a continual state of one foot in and one foot out the door. Shit almost hit the fan tonight and I almost packed his belongings. I find myself torn between very many worlds with him and am tiring despite the fact that he truly loves me like no other has - ever.

Let's start with the laundry list of denied kinks: #1 for him is dollification of me, his style is 1950's household (ha! just try it, I wish he would), breath play, choking, rape play with some power exchange (and he is intense), arm binding, light spanking, face slapping, receiving pain in certain places (yeah, most vanilla guys like for you to bite their erect cock and leave teeth marks, right), and he actually likes when I force him to submit and kneel at My feet (cause I ain't takin but so much shit). He also has an interest in a Master/slave dynamic. We both agreed that perhaps to avoid WWIII, that someone outside of us should be the slave as we are both way too dominant.

What attracted me to him in the first place, and I wasn't really thinking about kink 5 1/2 years ago, was his mental and physical strength. He would not submit, would not fold or buckle when we first started dating and I found him to be a worthy adversary. That's when the sparring began, and we have loved locking horns every day since then. The posturing, me calling him a "bitch," squaring off with him, the mental chess, then... the climax when his dominance asserts significantly enough to force mine into submission. Oh, how wonderful. He grabs me, spins me around, slaps me on the ass hard enough to spark goosebumps, then pulls me to him tightly to restrict my movement or to get me to obey. Or he'll throw me onto the bed, pull my hair and shove his cock into my throat before shoving it in my pussy. I doubt my interest would be there without this climax and I probably would've moved on a long time ago.

On the other end of the spectrum, he has a very traditional upbringing and background that weighs heavily on his mind. So he is vehemently not kinky at all. He will not learn Rope, he will not restrain me, collar and lead me, chain me, cage me, spank me to the level that I need it, inflict pain, inflict pleasure, or learn much of anything about BDSM. Most of the time, unless I provoke enough out of him, our sex is very vanilla. He is learning some of the little terminology, and frequently asks questions about the M/s culture. However, his face has a look of disgust when talking about kink, as well as my bisexuality that he fantasizes about none the less, and my polyamory (except when I speak of other women). Very typical of Roman Catholics, I guess, but it's creating a rift. Okay, more like a canyon.

Although I love him he is not the One and I know this. I just have to be patient. I will cross all bridges when closer to approaching them. My biggest bridge tonight will be when we go out after he gets off work tonight. It's time for some coffee, some talking, and an honest look at what we are and where we are. A true to life "comin' to Jesus" meeting. I'm tiring of his judgemental statements and looks. His "you're the freak, not me" attitude. He enjoys the sexual benefits of me being the "freak" yet hates what actually makes me one while I hate him for not being the One for me.

Toy'ed

Picture: Angelina Jolie
Originally written 2 months ago...
I hopped on the highway trying to rush home, I've got a lot to do today and have to go back to work this morning so I hit 35 hard trying to fly. When I enter the highway, there is a pick up in front of me in the right lane and an 18 wheeler the next lane over to my left. He sped up so that he blocked me in the right lane by closing the distance from his front bumper and the pick up's rear, then adjusted his speed so he could watch me through the windows in the door of the cab almost side by side. Since he went through such great effort, of course, my exhibitionist self decided to give him a little show. Nothing overtly sexual, but subtle eroticism never hurt anyone... angling my body to psychologically give the impression of an offering, tilting my head so he can have a look at my neck, gently stroking my hair as he seemed to want to, ensuring some cleavage was visible from his angle. He watched intently and seemed to enjoy our moment of intimacy. After a few minutes, he rewarded me by honking twice and slowing his speed to release me from the rolling road block.

There are those wonderful times that I love being a toy, even just a few seconds can feel like hours. Even the time that an acquaintance blocked my path for a few moments, backing me up and cornering me. He used the threat of proximity to move my body at the angles he desired, to smell my scent, and once the level of squirm he desired presented he released me. An extreme turn on, my panties were wet after that episode and all the other ones he had me endure over a period of a few months. Each time I saw him was a different test, building the sexual tension until it hung in the air between us. One older friend of mine suggested that I "just fuck him already and get it over with" since we were heating up everyone in the area that witnessed our play on occasion. Eventually, it exploded into my first time being truly controlled during sex. Sometimes the tease is better than the final act which is interesting, but what makes it all addictive is when the final act superpasses the tease.

For this image, there is no need to give credit. I found this one surfing the web. A photographer took this picture @ 1998-1999. I hadn't signed a release for this photo yet there it is on a website! These are the joys of dealing with an unscrupulous photographer, yet I claim it none the less. I accept the immortality of images and the possible consequences thereof.

The Taoist Sexual Yogi Revolution

Image from Black Snake Moan (Christina Ricci)

While I don't have much time to blog right now, my experience last night was unimaginable. My Top allowed another to play me whose energy is electrified and intensely sexual, to say the very least. The kind of raw, deviant, deliciously kinky, sadistic bondage that initially sparked my darkest desires since puberty. The same craving and energy as the dynamic created in Black Snake Moan between Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson. I can only remain in this pre-orgasmic state until he plays me again and I can't wait. I can still feel the Ropes running all over my body, my clit still engorged, my nipples still hard, the fine hairs on my body still at attention, my pussy still wet.



On the flip side of the coin, I loved gently spanking my sweet one last night afterwards. What a delicious ass, I just loved the way it felt between my teeth, under my hands, under my nails. I wanted to cane and flog her but was partially tired out from my bondage session. she was kneeling, laying her torso onto the lap of my Top/her Master. I chose to sit on her back after I had deliberated the angle and positioning I desired to give her just a little sample spanking.



Hmm, well I better go get something to eat and get a workout on. I'm planning a trip to NY in April and need to be in fairly good shape, if not in top shape. My Top, by Hisself, makes me feel like I've been hit by a freight train (yum) so I know a NY style play club will require more stamina. Besides that, classes restarted today and I better get busy. Business ethics, principles of finance, skin lit like fire and a deep need to be penetrated while still dizzy from his energy. I guess I should've known what I was getting into when this man stated he is a devotee of "Taoist sexual yoga." Duh! LOL.

Train of Denial Departing Without Me

(Picture by Dave Naz)

The Rope has Its own energy and life force that entrances me, but I'm learning that He is the prism that transforms that energy into a varying array of movements and emotions which is what I'm actually craving even more than Rope alone lately. This is why I begin to fall apart after not seeing Him for 3 or more weeks. I hate to admit that He has placed me in yet another vulnerable state but He has. How slow I am to not recognize how He has adjusted His implementation of Jute to withdraw from me the mental and emotional state He desires since we first started playing.

He is a Master with using Rope in erotic torture as the Jute unforgivingly sliced into the delicate folds of my vagina; partially suspended by one point to balance on one leg while leaning back due to another point. There was no midway point, no adjustment that provided any comfort or escape from my distress. His eyes were lit and alive from our scene as He watched how the Rope tangled me and then disappeared to cause the pain He knew I needed, how my breaths became short and rapid as I fought the urge to complain or whimper so He wouldn't think I was in real trouble and take me down, how sweat from the pain began to bead at the small of my back and applied a thin layer of moisture to gloss my body, how my juices mingled with the Jute to realign the heavens and make all things right again.

He began to take me down but applied one last good pull to my torturous pelvic harness, His eyes piercing me and I could tell He already knew the expression I was going to give Him and His satisfaction when I complied. For my reward, He held me there a little longer and pressed His body against mine in a wonderful embrace.

At one point I ended up face down, suspended at the chest with my ass suspended higher than my head into the air. The pressure this put on my chest and arms was incredible, and I felt equally as vulnerable with my entire bottom ready for whatever He decided. Of course His decision was a delicious combination of pain and pleasure causing me to explode into a ball of lust. My cum fell, rolling to the front of my pubis where it lept to its peril and united with the floor. I've never had pain applied to my g-spot before, but I miss the sensation already.

I don't remember at what point the Rope was loosened to fall beside me onto the floor, but I cradled It as Its tail gently slid across my face behind my ear and weaved Itself through my hair to hold me. He began spanking me, which I could barely tolerate and seemed a little unusual until He restarted to warm me up as it had been so long. Yum... I was spanked, whipped, flogged, caned, crop dusted, striped, fried and sauteed! Orgasm after orgasm with my back uncontrollably arching, my ass begging and pleading to meet the next strike, the thud of His glorious leather flogger, the deliciously sharp sting of His whip. It was like riding the Orgasm Carousel and I loved every moment, not wanting to get off.

Ahh, and there it is. I am going to finally step off the Train of Denial and admit it to myself. I don't know if it only works with Him or not, but I love to take the pain He inflicts with its sweet medley of pleasure and "oh, what the fuck was that?!" Last night, tears were brought to my eyes for the first time (damn, I hate feeling like a virgin) but I loved the flood of new hormones and sensations and Rope and oh yes, the pussy spanking that made me talk. I'm very vocal with moaning and even screaming, but talking is not something that I do easily yet that did it. Yep, I admit it....