Snapshots from a very good night

October 19, 2011 at 2:24 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

The Magician and I had coinciding kink energies last night. And thus, our first really long, in-depth playing session for maybe as much as a year. I am still rather all of a glow. 🙂

Some memories from the night:

Early in the evening, before going out to a pub to meet friends, lying in each other’s arms and sharing some fantasies. My energies were greater than his and I had a lot of pent-up kinky thoughts to express, so I scattered ideas like flowers on him, while he growled in appreciation and stroked and held me tightly. Some of those ideas may come back to haunt me. I do hope so. 😉

One idea which hit both of our buttons was for him to dress me up more often. The Magician is an artist, with a strong aesthetic sense, and a huge kink for decoration as well as giving orders. I only had one outfit to wear for an evening out in the pub with friends and I was wearing it, but I asked him to tell me how to do my hair and he did so gleefully, and also chose a coat for me to borrow from him. I’m looking forward to when my wardrobe recovers from my change of shape more thoroughly so that he can do more than that! But doing my hair (two plaits) under his orders was delightful, as was walking to the pub feeling that sense of having pleased him and demonstrated my submission to him, in a way that we both knew about and no one else did.

The pub time was wonderful. Excellent beer, super friends. Perhaps the Magician and I were a little more snuggled up even than usual. And he kept playing with my plaits. 😉

He was low on energy again when we arrived home. I stroked him and cuddled him and he let me kneel before him and take his boots off and kiss his feet. He stroked my hair and called me a good girl *and* a good boy, which pleased me mightily.

His energies revived a little later. I don’t have the order of events entirely clear in my mind. I recall him holding me down by my wrists and kissing me ruthlessly. Several times, as I kept asking him (very politely) to do it again. 😉 I remember him scratching me hard along my lower back, and telling me exactly how it felt – too distant to be pain, just pleasure and the knowledge that he could hurt me more whenever he wanted to. That hit me hard and wonderfully – I remember moaning just from being told (accurately) what I was feeling, understood and controlled and led to that extent.

I remember him telling me to struggle and try to get away from him. I remember feeling a little uneasy about trying, because the concept of wanting to felt so alien. I struggled hard because he had told me to, though. I remember the relief when he told me I could stop. This may not always work so well if I continue to do press-ups and lift weights. 😉

I remember the moment when he commanded me to feel my nipples pinched as though held by rings, and flicked the rings he had created in my mind until I cried out.

I remember the moment when he collared me, and the immense sense of peace and belonging and sheer joy that it gave me. And a similar feeling when he put me immediately on my chain lead, and hauled me up by it on to the bed and wrapped the chain around me.

I remember giving him a shoulder and back massage when his energies flagged again, and the delight and warmth of knowing I was serving him well and giving him pleasure and relief. I remember sending him energy all along his spine, and the satisfaction of knowing that it was helping, at least a little.

I remember drinking water, desperately thirsty, out of a bottle he held to my mouth.

I remember asking permission to use the bathroom, and walking there upright and unusually gracefully before him, determined to show pride in myself as his slave.

I remember finishing and being told to wait kneeling on the bathroom floor, and then being dragged, crawling by my collar back to the bedroom. I really don’t know which of the two ways of travelling I enjoyed the most.

I remember the longest, firmest hand-spanking I’ve had so far. No triggers, just a glorious amount of pain. I remember after 24, expressing a tentative wish for him to make me cry. He made the next 24 much harder. I didn’t cry outright, but I was definitely tearful by the end. I could have taken far more, but as our first deep session for so long, he was careful not to push me too hard. And my bottom is still a bit sore today, so yay. 🙂

I remember throughout his calm, firm, loving voice – though touched at times with a deliciously cruel amusement at my predicament, and especially at how completely he controlled and owned me. Those times carried with them an intimacy I can’t quite put into words.

I remember him inducing me, finally, to pleasure myself, while he fucked my brain with his words and held me close, and made sure I didn’t come for him until he gave me permission.

I remember being, erm, somewhat noisy. I hope his neighbours don’t mind too much. 😉 I was careful, as I always do now, to draw some power from the orgasm back into myself. As in my masturbation healing exercise, D/S for me is very much now a matter of sharing and transforming power and increasing the power that each of us has. Especially (but definitely not exclusively!) I think, the Sub.

And then he brought me gently back to the surface, and we cuddled a great deal. And I noticed how wild my plaits had become and how my hair generally kept getting in the way, and observed to our mutual amusement that while I find my submissiveness very much in joyful obedience and surrender, my hair is a *total* brat. 😉

And today my wonderful Magician is nursing me through very bad period, and making art. And we’re both hoping that we’ll have coinciding energies again for something similarly deep nice and soon. And maybe some new things from the fantasies we shared earlier in the evening.

And today, when I’m not doubled-up in pain (damn menstrual cramps!) I’m feeling a discernable satisfaction, pride and joy in how well last night went. Little or no self-disgust or unease or feeling powerless or triggered. This is huge progress, and exactly how I want to be feeling the day after a night like that. Hooray for me, and hooray for the Magician. 🙂

Now, I wonder if I can possibly persuade him to distract me from the period pain for a while. 😉

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A bad-ish week, and a useful realisation

October 16, 2011 at 12:15 pm (Uncategorized)

I’ve not had the best of weeks. Various stressful stuff has happened, the worst of which was a few hours last Monday during which the Magician wasn’t answering his phone (for the 3 1/2 hours after he’d asked for an alarm call), which is basically unheard of. Both the Magician’s extremely sensible boyfriend and I were more than half-fearing the worst.

Thank all the Gods (and believe me, I have been!), he was just out for the count with a bad cold, and managed to sleep through 15 missed calls when ordinarily he would be woken by the second ring of the first one. As soon as he did woke up, he looked at his phone, saw the missed calls, and phoned me immediately to reassure me. He’s been fantastic all week, completely understanding and patient with me crying all over him in relief, and determined to finally give his boyfriend (who lives nearer him than I do) a spare key in case anything like this happens again!

A couple of days ago I was hit by a wave of anxiety and exhaustion, and I’m fairly sure it was the recoil from all that. It’s still kicking my ass quite thoroughly, which is frustrating as it’s slowed down my physical progress quite considerably!

For some reason my self-esteem is also especially low at the moment – more back to how it used to be a year ago, with a great deal of body insecurity. Five years ago I was noticeably underweight, three years ago I was thin-ish, and now, a medication change later, I’m really quite plump. It’s led to a noticeable improvement in my physical health, and both my partners regard my new shape as a definite plus (especially in the bottom department!), but it’s still breaking my brain rather. It’s also very expensive in clothes!

Ah well. Ultimately, the medication I’m on which has led to the weight gain has done me a fantastic amount of good, my health has improved, and I can probably live with the patriarchy disapproving of my figure! It’s just a matter of overcoming the cognitive dissonance, and finding other ways of expressing my poly-genderedness (now I can’t be androgynous anymore), and making sure that those around me respect and honour the fact that I’m not really a cis woman, even if I look like one – and even when I’m wearing long flowing dresses and flowers in my hair!

While I’m talking about stresses, I’ve learned a new emergency coping mechanism over the last few months – and completed the realisations behind it last night – for occasions when people are angry with me or dislike me, and when they are angry with or dislike people I love.

None of those are circumstances I cope well with. I tend to head straight into panic, even if rationally it’s not something I need to get het up about, and in the case of people I care about disliking each other, while it’s sad, it’s not that much my business.

Looking back to my upbringing, however, it makes a sort of sense.

I grew up in an environment where punishments were grossly disproportionate. Emotional and physical abuse was the result of minor bits of misbehaviour, and even, sometimes, of no misbehaviour at all. At the same time, at school people disliking me led to them bullying me and encouraging others to do so. Meanwhile, when I was an adolescent, if my family disliked or disapproved of anyone I cared about, they usually made it as difficult as possible for me to see them – at the very least they would hold being forbidden to see them as a threat to get me to fall in line.

Throughout my childhood and some of my adolescence, people being angry with me or disliking me really did frequently lead to me being severely harmed. And as some of that harm was coming from my family, and including character assassination, on some level I genuinely feared that they might take my life. After all, their constant implication was regret that I was born. They didn’t intend that, but that’s *exactly* what it felt like. There’s a reason why I had (and sometimes still have) a recurring dream of my family having me executed, or approving of me being executed by some other body.

When someone is angry with me or dislikes me, I genuinely have a visceral fear that I will be harmed, possibly severely, and might even be killed. When someone is angry with or dislikes one of my loved ones, I have that fear for them, and also fear that I will be forced to no longer be close to them.

This is obviously a problem, because people have every right to be angry with others and like whom they choose! And I am angry with lots of people at various times, and dislike some, and on no account wish actual harm on any of them. I’m not sure I even wish harm on David Cameron or George Osborne, and that really is saying something!

The coping mechanism I’m developing for all this is twofold. Firstly, it is a matter of realising that it comes from my childhood, not from anything real in my life now. Secondly, I keep reiterating to myself, over and over again, words to this effect: “this does not mean that they are going to harm me/my loved one. I/my loved one is in no danger from them”. It sounds *ridiculous*, I know. It kind of is. But as soon as I start doing that, it shifts things in my brain sufficiently that I can let good sense and compassion and reality work their way in, and can approach the situation in a way that is healthy and useful and sensible. It makes apologising (where that’s appropriate) much easier, and it makes me feel much less panicky and ill!

I’m not sure quite what the point is of this post, except to express and discuss some of what day-to-day recovery looks like. It looks like fluctuations in mood and energy, depending on all sorts of factors. It looks like facing up to constant vulnerability, and trying as much as possible to have compassion for myself while doing so. And it looks like daily, gradual, determined persistence, locating, mostly one at a time, where all the tripwires and traps in my brain are left over from my childhood, and finding ways to dismantle them. Sometimes this happens on a daily basis. Sometimes I’m lucky and a whole load of traps both become visible and dismantle themselves all at once. Mostly it’s just a matter of lots of work, patience, time and energy. And step by step, little by little, I am making progress and getting there. 🙂

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Also, a note on rage

October 4, 2011 at 2:02 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

I was reading more of Healing Sex yesterday, in particular what to do about triggers during sexual activity.

Both during sexual activity and at other times, the most common trigger for me to get at the moment is rage.

This isn’t surprising. I have a *huge* amount of rage and anger stored up from when I was a child. Most of it I turned into anxiety or depression, or bottled it within my body where it contributed to my disabilities and generally high state of physical tension. We all find ways of coping with abuse, and with being taught by abusers that certain emotions aren’t acceptable, and that was mine. I’m not at all an angry person in the way that I interact with people as an adult. But the rage is still there, stored up – and hurting me. And making it harder for me to express legitimate anger when I experience it now.

I think there will come a point where sexual and/or kink activity can be part of healing from that. At the moment, it very much isn’t – and I’m especially scared of hitting some of that anger while topping, for obvious reasons. I have a clearer idea of the kind of Dom I want to be now – one whose power shows in calm, in focus, in quiet control. Very much a benevolent sadism! The Magician’s domminess is very much of that ilk, and it’s what I find sexiest, as well as most accessible from my own character. I think it will dovetail rather beautifully with the Warrior’s cheerful, hedonistic submissiveness, too! It’s also, I note, the most clear and thorough contrast with the total, vicious lack of control that I experienced from my abusers. That is, unsurprisingly, very important to me.

So! One of the things I am working on at the moment is finding ways of expressing and channeling my anger in ways that are satisfying but also non-harmful to myself and others. And, where at all possible, actively helpful!

I’ve had some lovely suggestions from various friends of mine, including sword-fighting with the Magician (he has some LARP swords, and is a fine swordsman himself 🙂 ), learning to bake bread, vicious cleaning in the bathroom, helping the Warrior with throwing bottles into a recycling skip, primal screaming, and getting one of those elasticated stress balls. Practising my jabs and crosses and kicks for the forthcoming acting challenge may also help. I’ve also had hitting (sturdy) trees with sticks suggested to me. I’m less convinced about the last of those, and will at least need to ask permission from the tree before I do it, and thank it afterwards! Maybe one or two might be okay with that though. 🙂

I’ll see how things go. It is very nice to have some ideas to be going on with (though I’m certainly up for more suggestions!) I think that expressing my stored up rage – both as it arises from triggering, and, where I can, as I deliberately seek out new layers of it – is one of the most important healing activities that I can be doing. Wish me luck?

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A physical challenge ahead…

October 4, 2011 at 1:44 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

I have a new, fun challenge ahead of me.

In a month-and-a-bit, I will be spending the weekend away with the Warrior and some mutual friends, reading through and acting out scripts of a certain tv series of which I am very fond.

I shall be playing an exceedingly active, athletic character, who has a great of fighting to do. She’s also US American and I’m, well, not.

Acting is something that’s hugely important to me, and these play-readings are a uniquely accessible way for me to get to do it, without the long rehearsal and performance process of stage acting (as an amateur or otherwise) that has generally proven destructive for my health. Over the last 2-3 years, however, my acting has been weaker than it used to be. Less emotionally engaged, less nuanced – just… well, less. And it would be very good for me to be able to redeem myself at this weekend.

So, I have the acting to work on. And I have the accent to work on, at least to get it to a point where it’s not actively painful for the one American person who’s going to be there!

And, perhaps above all, I need to work physically, to get myself to a stage both where I can deliver the kind of performance I want to, and not find myself utterly wrecked after the weekend.

There’s a limit to what I’ll be able to do – I’m disabled, dyspraxic and funny-jointed. But with gentle, firm, sensible dedication, I think I can get myself at least a bit more flexible, focused and fit before mid-November.

So! I think that means daily yoga, a little bit of weight-training at least a couple of times a week, walking when I feel up to it, and getting plenty of rest. Plus persuading the Warrior and the Magician to give me massages! I shall also practise the jabs, crosses and little bit of kicking that I learned during an abortive attempt to learn kickboxing a few years ago.

If any of you have other suggestions, I should be very glad to hear them!

I am also wondering whether I can bring in the Magician to help me with this. Even more so having watched this glorious clip from a video by Dreams of Spanking. Real, consensual, loving discipline and D/S from two singularly gorgeous performers. I am entirely endeared, and looking forward very much to the full video! And in the meantime, yes. If the Magician and I are both up for it, some motivational discipline from him could be just what I need.

And oh my am I happy that this is an option after all I’ve been going through. Hooray for healing. 🙂

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On stringed instruments, spanking and joyful masochism.

October 2, 2011 at 2:40 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

Learning to love being spanked, as a switch, has been a hard thing for me. I was smacked as a child, usually on the bottom, and it caused me real, especially sexual trauma. One of the many reasons why I am passionately opposed to all forms of CP against actual children – it’s not that being smacked turned me into a spanko, it’s that being smacked (along with the rest of the abuse) has been a real obstacle to developing my sexuality in the way that I want to. And that’s just not fair!

I had been fascinated with consensual, adult CP for some time as a Dom, and had caned and paddled the Warrior on many occasions before the Magician and I got together. Meeting and getting together with the Magician gave me a means of finally exploring my submissive side, and it’s been wonderful, not to mention amazingly good for me. The first time we tried some very light spanking on my bottom, however, I became massively triggered, distressed and panicky. Naturally we stopped immediately, and he gave me all of the support, care and love I could want. I was determined to persist, however, and find a way to enjoy this side of myself, free of the flashbacks and intrusive thoughts that my childhood makes me prone to.

It took determination, patience and intelligence from both of us, but these days most of those obstacles have gone, and for the most part, spanking from the Magician is something I utterly love. Well, not necessarily always at the time, but afterwards at least. 😉

It has only just occurred to me, however, that there was something from my youth that I have been consistently tapping into when enjoying spanking, as well as other forms of pain play (scratching and hair-pulling, especially) that the Magician and I indulge in.

I’ve been a stringed instrument player since I was a small child. During my teens, I was a jazz double bass player of some skill. At gigs, in that delightful mindspace that one enters when the music flows through you and all is adrenaline and energy and glory, I would play and play and ride past what was often quite intense pain that the playing invoked. On at least one occasion, literally until my fingers (specifically the index finger on my right hand) bled. I wore the blisters and the soreness as a badge of honour afterwards, and somehow the pain was just another, beautiful element of the general delight that a good gig gave me.

To my regret, I’m no longer a double bass player – it’s a frightfully impractical instrument when you have ME and back problems! But I am learning the ukulele at the moment, and as I type this my fingers of my left hand are stinging and aching and… it’s rather fantastic.

It reminds me too of sore feet when I’m well enough to go on long walks. Of the scratches on my hands when scrambling on rocks. The kinds of pain that come as a welcome intensifier of joyful, life-affirming activities. The kind of masochism that is absolutely about being strong and creative and delighting in the world around me. I usually regard myself as a sadist, a dominant and a submissive in terms of my sexuality. But I really do have a masochistic streak as well. And it lies so close to a lot of the healthiest parts of my brain, that this may help me spread that healthiness around all sorts of bits of me. 🙂

I admit I am also wondering whether, at some point, the Magician might be up for a scene that involves me practising my uke under his orders. I could see that being a quite ridiculous amount of fun. I shall have to ask him. 🙂

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