And now: a long overdue update

March 13, 2014 at 4:01 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , )

Other than the writing I’ve just posted (which I actually wrote last night, and put first on Fetlife), I’ve not updated this blog for several months.

The latter part of 2013 was… hard. Very hard. My fainting fit at my first weekend with the Ranger turned out to be seizures. I have Non-Epileptic Attack Disorder, it turns out: probably kicked off by stress from the divorce, and the fall-out from all of the abuse (both by my family, and by the Warrior). Then I spent much of the autumn very mentally ill indeed, and frequently suicidal. The combination of the two have led to a massive flare-up of my ME/CFS, and I’m mostly needing to use my wheelchair when out and about.

I got through it. I got through it, and spring is here. I’m still living with the Magician, and we have Exciting Life Plans. And I’m still in a relationship with the Ranger — indeed, we count the beginning of our relationship from March 17th, so it’s our anniversary in a few days. Both my relationships are a constant source of joy and strength.

The Warrior and I are now divorced. We’re on oddly quite good terms, especially having had a nice chat at a social event a few weeks ago. We still have some paperwork to sort out. I’m managing to hold in my head that odd twisty thing where I like him and wish him very well, but still have a lot of work to do to heal from his emotional, financial and sexual abuse of me. Brains are funny, people are complex. So the world goes. 😉

My body has changed a little more. Illness has aged me in the past year, and the inevitable lack of exercise from the ME flare-up has led to my putting on some more weight. I’ve been suffering from sporadic problems with emotional over-eating. I’m mostly not too happy about this, but accepting it, especially recalling that it’s likely to be temporary. I finally noticed in the autumn that with the extra weight and just the shape-changing of aging, I am no longer a small-breasted person! I was fitted for bras a few weeks ago, and it turns out that I’m roughly a 34DD. I now have three excellent bras (a plain white sports bra, a gorgeous black plunge bra, a super-sexy black-and-red lacy thing), and also a binder, and so enjoy the wonders of, essentially, optional breasts. As a polygendered person? Really not hating that.

I’m having physiotherapy to sort out some of my joint problems and trouble with walking. I’m getting a little more toned from the physio exercises, and I am noticing yet again that despite everything I actually put on muscle very quickly. I’m managing to lift weights more often, and am starting to get some biceps. Also not hating that.

Sex and kink are hard to do much of when very ill, but I’ve had some glorious times over the last few months for all that, especially with the Ranger. The Magician’s becoming more confident in identifying as “grey-ace”, or simply as asexual, and we have started to find more ways of finding the spaces where our kinks converge and creating beautiful things there. Here is where poly comes into its own, of course, because I am, it turns out, when free from abusive relationships, really an intensely sexual as well as kinky person. The Magician creating art on me and then spanking me and photographing me is both a memory that will stay with me for a while, and an event that we both hope and intend will happen more often! We’ve discussed him painting my breasts. We’ve talked about the use of clothes pegs on my nipples. I’m wondering how it would feel to have him flog my breasts and then draw on them. I have as a motivation for us both to catch up on laundry, to have him choose my outfit before we go out to social occasions, so that all evening I can feel secretly, decoratively, his.

Meanwhile, the last time the Ranger and I were alone in his house, I ended up tied by my wrists to a bedpost and spanked, hard. Then making myself come at his command, while he made patterns with rope across my chest. Then showering together, stroking each other’s wet skin with increasing fervour. Then being pressed against the cold wall of the shower while he kissed me, hard. Then sinking to my knees below the stream of water, taking him in my mouth. Then back in the bedroom, being soundly fucked on my hands and knees. And swearing comedically after he made me come yet again, him wielding a vibrator on my clit, his eyes holding mine.

I also note that it’s been rather too long since I last dominated the Ranger. And I have some fun ideas for what might happen when next I do. 😉

The difference the past year has made to my confidence and ease with my sexuality and kink-self is extraordinary. I suspect I still have some way to go! But it’s wonderful, to be able to feel that none of the things that have happened to me – not the rapes, nor the abuse, nor the crushing daily impact of the patriarchy – have succeeded in permanently robbing me of my sexual power, nor of my sovereignty and confidence in my body. It took a long time, but I am starting to get my power back.

Life and healing have some hard challenges ahead for me, I know. But after such a distance already travelled, and with two such wonderful partners to help me on my journey? I think I’m going to get there. 🙂

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Canvas

March 13, 2014 at 3:28 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , )

Kneeling, decorated.

The tree on my back. Kneeling, decorated.

“Would you like to decorate me this evening?”

It’s come up in conversation so often, but the mundanities of life tend to interfere. We’re both disabled, he’s my carer. There are events to organise, jewellery to make, songs to practise, writing to proofread, dinner to cook. Games to play. Admin, and housework, and procrastination.

But today, we both noticed that it isn’t such a hard thing to find, that calm space for a while to find a point where our two kinks – his asexual, aesthetic, cheerfully sadistic, cuddly dominance; my intense, playful, passionate, shyly exhibitionist switchiness – can meet and enjoy each other.

And, he’s an artist. And I’m having body confidence trouble. No brainer, really.

So, after dinner, it comes up again. The bed hurriedly cleared of the trappings of a bed-ridden day. The fan heater moved into the bedroom. I wash my face, brush and tie back my hair. He brings through his pencil case. The subject of outfit comes up, and it is generally decided that my wearing clothes would not in any way add to the setting. 😉

For all my eagerness, it takes me a while to get comfortable, and I shift position a few times rather abruptly, trying to find a place where my abdomen doesn’t hurt, where I can breathe easily, where my hands aren’t getting tingly, where the ache of my breasts pressing into the duvet is pleasant rather than distracting.

His hands are warm, reassuring. On my bottom, on my shoulder, on my side. The pen is deliciously scratchy on my back. I trace the pattern of the trunk, the branches, the curlicues in my mind. I know and love his style so well. We share an obsession with trees.

I expect the moment to come when I slide into subspace; then am surprised to notice I am already there. I am naturally such a fidgety person; the necessity of stillness, of feeling him close and quiet and intent upon me, leaves me soft, relaxed, his. I know he could give me a command and obeying would happen automatically, instinctively. But there is just this: the silence, the scratch of the pen, his breath warm upon my lower back, my breath deep and luxuriating into my pillow. I feel myself turn into a canvas. A page for him to pour his work on to.

My mind is busy yet, of course. A restless inner monologue, at odds with my body’s stillness. I, inevitably, write bits of this essay in my head. But over and above it all, the peace of the deep water. Of knowing that I’m here, and his.

He finishes the tree. The grand initial S at its roots could stand for many things. One of them is “slave”.

Tree, lying.

The tree on my back. Lying.

There are photos, cuddling, scratching. I bury my head in his neck, nibble his ear. Ask if he might like to spank me.

Then another pattern, green, on my leg. Almost too ticklish to bear, but weight is firm on my other leg, and I hold myself still with an effort. Sliding further down.

Green branches, leg.

Green branches on my leg.

The first swat from the little leather strap against my left cheek is shocking, and I yelp despite myself. Six of those, twelve from the beautiful soft flogger that he made to fit his hand. More from the strap. More from his hand, heavy and merciless and wonderful. I count and thank him for each one. Thirty-six in all. The strap is hell with each stroke, glorious pleasure in the afterglow. I know I’ve done well.

More photos, then we lie together, the pen drying in the warmth from the heater. He praises me. I surface. We check in. Exchange words of love, of thanks, of reassurance.

The endorphins will take a while yet to fade. The pen still longer – perhaps tomorrow’s bath will wipe it away, perhaps not. We will both watch for the fading lines, grin at the memories. Agree on the general desirability of him decorating me a little more often.

Tonight, I wear his marks.

Tonight, I am a canvas.

Decorated, spanked.

Decorated, spanked.

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A blessed weekend :-)

May 13, 2013 at 10:46 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , )

Me, just now, to the Magician: “So, should I be worried that I’m pining a bit now for the Ranger? Does it mean that I’m not going to be able to make the long distance relationship work?”

The Magician, grinning: “No, not at *all*.”

Me, also grinning: “Are you pining a bit for [person] now?”

The Magician: “Maaaybe a little bit. 🙂 “

 

Hee. 🙂

It was a glorious weekend. It started rather stressfully – we learned only on Wednesday that we were having a flat inspection on the Friday, specifically during the first three hours of the Ranger’s visit, and well after the Magician would have left for *his* date weekend, with one of his other partners.

Cue frantic tidying and cleaning, all made more difficult by the fact that the Magician and I are both disabled! We had a lot of help from a couple of friends, and vast amount of moral support from several others. And by the time the Magician left, the flat looked really rather nice.

 

The Ranger was comfortably on time. And the flat inspector was right at the end of her window, which meant 2 1/2 – 3 hours of sitting on the sofa waiting for her to arrive, cuddling and chatting and in a state of some desperation because we had been waiting for so long to be alone together…

She arrived, it was pretty painless. And then she left.

And then the Ranger and I were, finally, alone together in an empty flat, with no one scheduled to arrive and disturb us… 🙂

 

I have so many glorious memories of the weekend, it’s hard to keep them in any sort of order, so I shan’t try.

I gave him his first spanking. And he gave me the first spanking he had given anyone. He is… a quick learner.

I left marks on his skin. He left them on mine. My nipples are still a little tender from his teeth. I suspect he still has that bite on his thigh.

We switched a great deal, sometimes with an almost dizzying speed. Sometimes with a few hours between, because there’s a limit to how fast either of us can switch when sunk quite that hard in subspace. 😉

I remember those beautiful eyes of his pinning me to the bed. The quiet, calm, hypnotic intensity of his dom-voice. His hand locking in my hair and pulling tight. The love, the care, the delicately raised eyebrow. He was merciless and sadistic and joyful, and he had me feeling utterly helpless and entirely safe and cherished.

I remember those same eyes, wide and overwhelmed. Gazing helplessly into mine. I remember him shaking. I remember the feel of his skin beneath my hand. His long, slender, glorious beauty. The way his bottom blushed *adorably* beneath my hairbrush. The way in which he drank up pleasure and pain. The sound of him gasping, and crying out.

The way in which he calls me, “sir”. He has a beautiful voice, with a slight west country accent, especially when his guard is down. Between how happy it makes my gender, and the slight, gorgeous burr he put on the word… *happy*.

 

It was like, and unlike, the fantasies we’ve been exchanging. Physical and mental health and other realities intervened. Twice, I had flashbacks – both times he was wonderful, giving me space or cherishing as I needed it. Once, I actually passed out (I was awfully dehydrated, looking back!). He looked after me wonderfully.

And of course, bondage tape wouldn’t tear properly, and things were dropped, and there were socks, all of the other down-to-earth things that involve real bodies and real time, especially with me being dyspraxic. 😉 And, it was all good! We were patient, and loving with each other, and laughed when things went amusingly wrong. I loved the IMs, but reality was just so much… *more*.

 

Plus of course we did various other wonderful things that had nothing to do with sex or kink. 😉 We read Shakespeare in bed together! We went to the theatre! We made each other lovely food! And we talked and talked and talked. We took awfully good care of each other. And a few times I got to lie on my back and hold him curled up against me with his head on my chest, which was more precious than I can easily describe.

I am even more deeply in love with him than I was before the weekend, and I am beyond delighted that I get to see him again in just over 10 days. 🙂

 

I miss him, inevitably. Really rather a lot. I am pining a bit. But mostly, I just feel incredibly blessed. In the Magician and the Ranger, I really do have two quite ridiculously wonderful, brilliant, kind, delightful, beautiful and generally amazing, partners.

I am very, very lucky. 🙂

 

And… and, yeah. I had a sexually/kinkily active weekend. My sexual/kink power is a real thing now, and I get to use it. And to not be totally thrown when my PTSD flares up. This is kind of amazing and wonderful, and *yay*. 🙂

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Finding my dominance again: happiness, confidence, and a certain amount of awe…

April 20, 2013 at 12:26 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , )

It is a mark of the enormous trust I have for the Magician that I can submit to him, and I honestly did not expect that I would ever want to, let alone feel able to, submit to anyone else.

The Ranger and I are still a little under three weeks away from our first date, but it’s very clear already that we both passionately want him to dominate me. Our chats have been getting, if anything, steamier, more desperate, and around 50% of them have involved him dominating me. Including one last night that I am still joyfully reeling from. 🙂

And the other 50% involve me dominating him, and that’s where things get interesting. Because, thanks to the Magician, I already have some healthy, positive, *exceedingly hot* experiences as a sub. Yes, it takes a level of trust that I never truly thought I’d find with anyone other than the Magician. But it is a part of me that I have already started to become comfortable with. A part of me I understand. A way of inhabiting kink space that I find healing and helpful, as well as fantastically hot. Finding that I love submitting to the Ranger as well as the Magician was a surprise and a pleasure for us both, but in retrospect, it makes total sense.

But my own experiences prior to this as a dom, other than a couple of ill-advised chats several years ago with a Bad News person, have all involved the Warrior. Not good. Not good at all. When I first started writing this blog, I was genuinely of the opinion that I might never enjoy dominating anyone again – I was beginning to wonder if I’d been mistaken in believing myself as a switch. I had a few toppy feelings towards the Magician (he really does have a gloriously spankable bottom 🙂 ), but obviously never acted on them.  But no really *dominant* feelings, and all far less powerful than my submissive feelings towards him.

I have learned to associate dominating, with being cajoled, pressurised, into doing something for someone whose submission to me was never about *me*, and never came with genuine respect. With using that control as a means of keeping myself safe, not to truly enjoy it. And the very thought of engaging as a dom in the kind of intense mind-fucks that the Magician and I enjoy, repelled me in the extreme – because the only sub I thought I’d ever have was the Warrior, and over the last few years especially, I just didn’t want to get our brains that close to each other.

Dominating someone is, if done right, at least as much of an exercise of trust in them as submitting to them. This I knew – but, in the midst of what my relationship with the Warrior had become, and how he treated me – I never joined the dots. Never realised that my absolute, and warranted, lack of trust in him, was part of the problem here…

So, that gives some context to what follows.

Which is, that dominating the Ranger is something I am finding both ferociously hot, and utterly safe and lovely. That winning his trust, giving him wonderful experiences, having him entirely at my mercy and loving what I’m doing to him, is intoxicating and glorious and makes me boggle at myself for ever thinking that I might not be a switch.

And there is added power in it, because before he and I started our chatting and shared fantasies, he believed he was entirely a dom. That he can and does joyfully submit to me, that I’ve helped him discover and explore this side of him, is one of the greatest honours I can imagine. Every time I look at his fetlife profile, and see that he now describes himself as a switch, when before he did not, I find myself smiling. I laugh about it sometimes – claim to be smug, wonder whether there’s a switch equivalent of the toaster that members of the Bisexual Recruitment Army get. 😉 But actually, most of what I feel is awe, and gratitude, and responsibility, and protectiveness, and love. I treasure it, and I treasure him.

So far, we’ve only shared fantasies, and snatched moments of privacy last weekend. But I’ve given him his first taste of subspace. I’ve come very close to hypnotising him, with just a look and a few words. I’ve made him shake, and made him gasp, and made him swear. I’ve drawn intense, automatic obedience from him. I’ve rendered him speechless, and also sent him to a place where he’s described his submissive feelings with such a beautiful, touching eloquence that, re-reading it, it almost made me cry.

I’ve found aspects of dominance within myself that I didn’t know I had. And I know the kind of dom that I am, and want to be: ruthless, calm, sadistic – but also caring, affectionate, nurturing. Full of praise for pain well taken, obedience well given. Full of encouragement, full of forgiveness. And absolutely in control.

I’ve learned from the best – shamelessly borrowing from some aspects of the Magician’s domming style, and also a little from what I’ve seen of the Ranger’s own style as a dom. But most of all, I’ve found those places in my brain that buzz delightfully at taking a strong, powerful, brilliant, beautiful, wonderful man, and having him give me that power. At playing with it, and with him. And then returning it to him, stronger, I hope, than ever. I’ve found those places in my brain, and I’ve mixed them with just the person that I am, and I like what comes of that.

I pray that I never quite get over how magical this all is, nor ever take it for granted.

I feel like, for the first time in my life, I am truly, genuinely pretty happy with my sexual and kink-self. I’ve still got ways to go, but the background level is that of comfort, of safety, of self-respect, of content. And, even though my mental health is very poor just now, and I’m feeling broken and weak in many ways, the new strength that feeling at ease with myself sexually for the first time is bringing me, is giving me firm and powerful hopes for how very, very well I am eventually going to be.

And in the meantime, just… *wow*. Being a switch is the best. And the Magician and the Ranger are wonderful. I am awfully lucky. 🙂

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All at sea, or, how I’m going to start building up a NSFW supplies collection ethically and with no money…

April 15, 2013 at 9:43 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

I don’t, actually, know whether I currently own any sex or kink equipment.

The Warrior and I collectively had really quite a lot, mostly purchased years and years ago.

He used lots of it with his now-only-partner without checking with me first (meh 😦 ), and I have no idea whether in moving the things he wants to his new place, he left anything for me.

Most of it, I’m not sure whether I’d want now. Too many bad associations, and lots of the stuff wasn’t actually that good. (Pathetic little flogger from Ann Summers that did little other than leave bits of cheap suede everywhere, vicious metal handcuffs that are too uncomfortable for me to be much interested in experiencing them now, either on top or bottom. And so on. We were young, and unaware that there were better things out there.)

But I am rather hoping that when I next go to the house we used to live in, and sort out/collect some more of my stuff, he has at least left my cock behind. :-S It’s a gorgeous purple strap-on with purple velvet harness. It’s *beautiful*. And I found it very helpful indeed at a time when I was feeling particularly gender dysphoric. And it’s mine. Dammit. Not his. And definitely, *definitely* not hers.

We’ll see. If they really have taken it with them, it’s not like I’ll want it back. In time, eventually, I will acquire another one…

And in the meantime, I am thinking that I am going to have to – and certainly want to! – gradually build up a collection of sex and kink Things that I really like.

With the Magician, I do have some very delightful objects. Between us we have: his heavy paddle brush, the gorgeous cane (which scares me, for all the right reasons…), the beautiful flogger he made for himself (complete with epoxy-resin handle moulded to his hand…), the strips of theatre blackout curtain for bondage purposes. And of course, my collar and chain-leash. But those are either his, or things that are very much only for use with him. I rather like the idea of building up a collection – partly of things that I consider as mine to use with whomever I like, partly of more things for use with the Magician, and partly, I hope, of things for particular use with the Ranger. 🙂

The Magician might well be up for making me a flogger of my own at some point – though he is rather overloaded with other work, and he only sporadically feels up to making things for sex/kink purposes, which is fair enough. 😉

Building up a new collection will take a while. And there are so very many things I want to do with/to the Ranger, and that I’d like him to do with/to me, for which some form of equipment would be advantageous. The most important bits of equipment (mutual respect and love, utterly filthy imaginations, etc.), we definitely have in plentiful supply. 🙂 And I have a reasonably decent hairbrush for spanking purposes, plus one or two items of a vibrating nature… 😉 But other things… yes. I need.

I just went online and purchased some fair trade condoms. I am INCREDIBLY EXCITED at the existence of fair trade condoms. 🙂 I went for the fair-squared ones.

Beyond that, well, frankly, there are three problems:

– I don’t really know which suppliers to start looking at. I’m not that much in the scene – I sort of hover on the edge of it. And it’s a long time since I’ve done much purchasing of these things.

– I really want to purchase ethically-sourced things wherever possible, and annoyingly it looks like this is extra hard to do when buying kinky things. Or possibly it isn’t! I don’t know.

– I can’t actually afford anything other than the condoms at this point. 😉

Nothing I can do about the third of those especially! But if any of you, dear readers, are aware of (UK-based) sources of good-quality, reasonably-priced equipment for tying, spanking, insertion, pinching and other delightful treasures, I am very much open to recommendations. Even if it’s just so that I can start saving up. 🙂

I have been looking at Sh!’s website, and eying up some beautiful black leather, fur-lined handcuffs and wristcuffs, with D-rings. They would look breathtakingly sexy on the Ranger, and possibly pretty good on me. And they also look comfy, which for the most part is a lot of what I look for in bondage equipment. I totally can’t afford them yet. But possibly something to save up for. Is anyone able to comment on whether Sh!’s stuff is decent quality?

Ah well. Acquiring such things can be a medium-long term aim, and the last thing I should do right now is put pressure on myself to be an epically well-supplied kinkster, especially when finances are something of a struggle, and I’m rather short of space! And especially when the Magician can turn me into a helpless, moaning puddle with one hand gripping my hair, and the thumbnail of his other hand digging in hard and slowly across my lower back. Especially when stroking the Ranger on the back of his neck and locking gazes with him seems to produce some *very* interesting effects, and the sound of his whisper telling me one or two of the things he’d like to do to me, had me shivering with want. We have hands, we have tongues, we have teeth, we have eyes, we have minds.

But, yeah. In the long-run? A nice toy collection would also be rather pleasing.

And I am still so ridiculously excited about the fair trade condoms. 😉

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In which I name New Person, and squee rather a lot ;-)

April 14, 2013 at 9:41 am (Uncategorized) (, , )

I’ve spent a while over the past few days, contemplating a good fantasy archetype to use as a pseudonym on here for New Person.

I wondered about the Herald – with his wonderful projecting acting voice, and his bringing light and change into my life.

I wondered about the Shape-Shifter – acknowledging his switchiness, and his skill as an actor.

But neither of those felt quite rightly about him.

And finally, “the Ranger” slipped into my brain. And, of course he’s the Ranger. He loves walking in the countryside. He is built like the ranger archetype – tall and thin and ruggedly beautiful. He loves to explore, and is passionately curious about so much of life despite his depression.

Part of that exploration involves things he and I would like to do with and to each other, and the thought of that is… intoxicating.

We saw each other yesterday for the first time since our little mini-date in a cafe, the day after I asked him out. So, for the first time in nearly four weeks.

Our first actual date is still another four weeks away! But we had a small house party and play-reading yesterday, to celebrate the Magician’s birthday, and obviously the Ranger was one of the guests.

We were reading through “Julius Caesar”. I was playing Brutus, the Ranger was playing Cassius, the Magician was playing Antony. All The Feels. 🙂

The Ranger and I were fairly coupled-up at various points. Everyone, very definitely including the Magician, regarded this as both entertaining and exceedingly endearing. 😉 And the Ranger now has firm approval from one of the Magician’s other partners, who was there – and they are someone who is not easy to please, and is very protective of me. They are a good judge of character, and, while they never said so to me, were always a bit dubious about the Warrior. Their obvious liking for the Ranger is unsurprising, but deeply pleasing and reassuring.

When around others, the Ranger and I were fairly chaste in our snuggling. We sat close to each other, sometimes in each other’s arms. And as time went on, found it more and more impossible to not touch each other. I remember him chatting to various people while stroking my back, and drifting off into a reverie.

And every so often we would sneak into the kitchen, and kiss, and hold each other, and caress each other fiercely through our clothes, and gaze into each other’s eyes (and generally be utterly unspeakable 😉 ), and the sheer overwhelming mutual want was both glorious and agonising. I’ve gone in the space of a few weeks from wondering if I would ever get my libido back, to, well, this. Absolutely burning for each other. It is wonderful. 🙂

We’re seeing each other again today. Again, mostly in company, but I suspect we will still find another couple of quiet moments to torture each other and ourselves so delightfully.

And then, we won’t see each other for nearly four weeks. Which will be another form of delightful torture – with the anticipation, the lovely chatting. The waiting, but also the enjoying being together apart. The celebrating each other’s lives in different cities.

And I should also note here, one of the things that makes me happiest. Chatting in the kitchen with the Magician, the Ranger and the Magician’s aforementioned other partner. Far, far more relaxed and mutually friendly and respectful than any group containing the Magician and the Warrior ever was.

I amused quite a few people yesterday by pointing out that I had upgraded my polycule. It was silly, and funny, but also quite true. The chosen extended family aspect of polyamoury is part of what I love about it. And I’m now in a position where my loves get on really well with each other, and where all three of my metamours are truly excellent people whom I adore, and who are friends of mine in their own right.

As I’ve said a few times on this blog, my life at the moment has a vast amount of stress attached, along with grief, anger, and all the rest.

The Magician’s deep, wondrous love and care for me, and the fierce joy of falling in love with the Ranger – and the happy satisfaction of knowing that they truly like and respect each other – are like these shining lights in the midst of it all. I have really rather a lot of genuine happiness to go with the sorrow and pain and anxiety. And eventually, hopefully in the next six months, the dust from the ending of my marriage will clear. We’ll have sorted out the money, the divorce will be through. I’ll be able to start getting on with the rest of my life. And I’ll still have the Magician and the Ranger, and many, many wonderful friends, to walk at least some of that path with me.

Yay. 🙂

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And now, the difficult stuff [TW for sexual assault, sexual abuse]

April 1, 2013 at 11:46 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , )

This being the blog in which I talk both about my kink/sex life and about being an abuse survivor?

There is something I’ve not talked about on here, but with my relationship with the Warrior over, it’s time.

The Warrior was not actually very nice to me.

For much of our relationship, he frequently guilt-tripped or otherwise pressured me into sex, and otherwise trampled on my boundaries. Even in the last 2-3 years of our marriage, I had to repeatedly ask and insist and argue until he would finally stop his habit of groping me and then not letting go when I said “no”, saying that he “liked fondling me” (so therefore my preferences about it were irrelevant? :-S ). And then there were other things – him getting in a mood with me when sex hurt me and I had to ask him to stop. And the time when he accidentally penetrated my anus rather than my vagina in the heat of the moment, and was furious with me when I was distressed about it and insisted that he wash before we resumed.

It was no wonder that even though he is a switch, in the latter years, as I started to recognise that I am allowed physical boundaries, I had no interest in submitting to him. I simply did not trust him at all. Dominating him still appealed, but I confess with some shame that my main motivation in wanting to tie his wrists was not lust, but to keep his hands from touching me in ways I did not want or like. It was, by the end, about the only way I could bear to be sexually or kinkily active with him. His submission started to pall, to feel false and even rather nauseating. He fawned on me, but he did not respect me – in the bedroom or out of it. He had me on a pedestal, but did not admire or truly love the fullness of the person that I am. And whenever I fell off that pedestal, he was harsh, patronising, even a little emotionally abusive. He supported me financially and (at least until the Magician came on the scene) was also my primary carer in my disability. Unfortunately he also believed this gave him an automatic moral high ground in our relationship, he resented my neediness and did not deal with that resentment. He treated me as though I were not an adult, not his equal. He was dismayed by my coming out as genderqueer, dismissive of my childhood experiences. The Magician put his finger on it absolutely when he said that even at his best, the Warrior mostly regarded me as a cross between a pet and a social secretary – and I never even noticed the damage that was doing.

Getting together with the Magician changed me, and in ways the Warrior did not like. The Magician’s love, and respect, and care for me made me value myself more. He gave me the courage to explore myself, and to learn to like what I saw. The dissonance between the way they each treated me was often confusing and even painful. Though it still did not really clue me in to how dysfunctional my marriage to the Warrior actually was.

I never consciously noticed it at the time, but while I loved the Warrior for the whole time we lived together, his treatment of me and my subconscious awareness of his own unhappiness in the relationship were a constant, dull, horrible pain and sorrow.

Realising that I was abused as a child was awful and overwhelming, but it also gave me an excuse to just back the hell away from my sexuality and kink-self, and so escape that part of my relationship with the Warrior entirely. The Magician is grey-A, only sporadically kinky and/or sexual himself. And even if that were not the case, he respects me utterly. His attitude was: whatever I needed, was no problem for him at all. But the Warrior hated it. Throughout that whole two years of processing the child abuse, he almost entirely failed to have my back. He saw it as just another example of my being too weird to deal with, and thoroughly resented the lack of sex.

And now? I’m free of him. And, you know, in many ways that freedom hurts! In a few months I will start living on my own for the first time in my life – and I have anxiety, depression, monophobia, agoraphobia and ME/CFS. It’s going to be a massive challenge, and I am afraid. Meanwhile, my living temporarily with the Magician has screwed up his disability benefits (basically because the DWP is run by sociopaths). I’ve gone from a comfortable middle class lifestyle to a poor one, and inevitably that was something of a shock.

So, there is fear. There is grief. There is hurt. And more fear because, you know, anxiety disorder.

But oh goodness, also a joy so fierce it’s sometimes unbearable. The relief of pressure from no longer desperately trying to please and love someone who did not respect me is more powerful than I can describe. And between that and the tremendous support I’ve had from the Magician and various close friends, my mental health is actually remarkably okay right now considering. I feel that with a tremendous weight lifted from me, I am gradually drifting upwards.

And then there has been the last three weeks! To have, suddenly, two partners who both truly respect and love and value the person I am is almost brain-breakingly wonderful. I’ve been actively poly for over 4 1/2 years, but I don’t think I ever truly understood what that meant until now.

And the idea of sex and kink is pleasing and appealing again – and actually, more wonderful than it has been at any time, because I am so much more healed from my childhood from all of the processing I’ve done over the last 2-3 years, as well as being without the Warrior. I don’t feel triggered or trapped or panicky at the idea of doing things, watching things, thinking about things. I’ve been cheerfully watching clips on Dreams of Spanking, and looking forward to when I can afford to get some paid content! I’m looking forward to having both the Magician and New Person take photos of me – neither are photographers at the semi-professional level of the Warrior, but they’re also both pretty good, and could do with the practise. 😉 Above all, I feel I can respect and love myself, as a person with a sexual appetite, as an obedient and hedonistic sub, as a caring and sadistic dom. As a powerful person, whichever form my kink is taking – and I am, at the least, much less scared of that than I have been in the past. As a beautiful genderqueer person, who is now free to explore the possibilities of life with a great deal more freedom and integrity than ever before.

None of which is to say that I’m healed entirely, from the child abuse, from being raped as a teenager, from what I am (with sorrow) coming to regard as a sexually and occasionally emotionally abusive relationship of thirteen years. I am not. But I am closer to it than I have ever been.

It was the Warrior’s decision to leave me for his other partner when she made him choose between us, and while it was mine to end the actual relationship, it was clear that he was only holding back from doing this himself due to lack of courage. The decision to divorce was taken jointly.

It is hard, right now, to feel very grateful to him or his other partner for anything! But I am really, really glad that he chose her over me. However devastating and terrifying many aspects of all this are, it is, I think, going to prove one of the best things that has ever happened to me. 🙂

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Teehee…

April 1, 2013 at 10:49 am (Uncategorized) (, , )

I do not actually brat. Honest.

But a couple of days ago, I was giving some (entirely non-kinky) skincare attention to the Magician. I was careful, but it was the kind of thing that does inevitably hurt. He winced and whinged a bit.

I might have made a teasing reference to doms being fragile. I might have mentioned us switches and subs as being all tough and resilient in comparison.

Naturally, he tested this theory by giving me a gloriously hard single hand-spank to my bottom. 🙂

I think I proved my case by my vocal appreciation, and then demanding another one because the first (delivered at an awkward angle) was slightly off-centre. I don’t like being asymmetrical. 😉

 

Nope, not a brat. I will admit, however, to being, in my polygendered way, something of a wench. And when it gets me such a good result, can you blame me? 🙂

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In which I am really rather happy, in a wistful sort of way :-)

March 29, 2013 at 1:53 pm (Uncategorized) (, )

Looks like I may well need a pseudonym for New Person on here before too long. 😉 We’re still weeks away from our first date, and won’t see each other at all for over a fortnight but, hey. Long distance relationship between busy people.

It’s wonderful, the way in which longing for someone can itself be a sort of happiness. And while I’m a lot less over-excited than I was (fortunately, because honestly my adrenal system wasn’t coping that well!), it’s calming down to a deep level of joy.  I’m still all in a flutter every time I hear from him, and relishing the intoxication of shared fantasies – and fondness. We’ve been friends for so many years, and the care for each other makes everything far sexier, as well as feeling blessedly safe.

It’s all so, so wonderful in itself, and an absolute affirmation that there is Life After The Warrior. 😉

 

And meanwhile, the Magician continues marvellous. And while his kink energies are still very low, there have been a few delicious moments, where he’s just taken a few seconds to bite my neck and run a nail slow and hard across my lower back, giving me an endorphin rush and a wicked smile. 🙂

 

At some point I may need to make a post about some of the darker stuff I’ve been processing. But just now, all about the joy. I feel very, very lucky and blessed. 🙂

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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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