Protected: the punishment

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

amazing revelation of the day

I learned last night that my former roommate, one of my dearest friends, was, way back when, the first man Gloria Brame ever fucked.

No, seriously.

You could knock me over with a feather.

(He’s not even kinky, either.)

(Update: Gloria confirms here.)

stuff you might not know about me

I pretty much only post about kink here, by design.  But I thought it might be nice to share a bit about my life, which is broader (of course) than just sex.

I am in my mid-30’s.  I have a full time job that is basically my career, and I also go to school part time, and have for years.  My job is working at an engineering & geological consulting firm, where I am a tech, which means I spend all day (to put this in the simplest possible terms) taking data in one form and using a bunch of different pieces of software to change it into a different form and/or derive results from it (which is kind of the same thing, if you think about it).  My job requires algorithmic thinking, problem-solving, detail-orientedness (at which I basically fail), and relatively extensive domain knowledge.  I’ve worked in this industry for over 10 years, always as a tech, but in different technical areas.

I’ve been going to school forever to get my bachelor’s degree.  I go part time or a little less than part time, and should graduate next Spring if all goes according to plan.  I used to have a complicated major (that I made up myself) that was a combination of computer science and GIS (basically), but I’ve recently switched to being a math major.  I find that, over time, my interests trend more and more towards pure math.  I kind of came to math through computer science, which is, if you will, just a subfield of discrete math anyway.

What about ideologies?  Well, first I am an empirically-oriented atheist.  I don’t believe in any gods, spirits, immaterial energies, life forces, or what have you.  I am a supporter of the basic process of science.

I am a Democrat.  I am pro-capitalist and pro-globalization.  I am a feminist, a half-hearted environmentalist, a repentant but unreformed omnivore.

And I have the kinky sex.

the orgasm control, from this side

Joscelin made it clear right away when we switched that I would not be having any orgasms without his permission.  I was not surprised at this – it is such an intrinsic part of what we do in the non-switched direction that I almost can’t imagine it not being a part of any d/s relationship, though I realize that’s nonsense.

It is so hard.

And I don’t understand why it is so hard.  It is really mysterious to me.  Under normal circumstances, I come something like 1-5 times per week.  There are weeks when I have an orgasm almost every day, and weeks when I don’t really even think about it.  (I always think about sex, but that doesn’t automatically lead to my feeling the need to have an orgasm.)

We switched Thursday.  It was hard not coming Thursday night.  It was hard not coming Friday night.  It was hard not coming Saturday night.  Sunday, I was allowed to come – twice!  It was still hard not coming Sunday night (last night, that is).

I am allowed (encouraged, even) to masturbate.  This is a great comfort when it comes to being able to just roughly rub myself, which can never lead to orgasm but lessens the need for one somewhat.  It is not at all a comfort when it comes to actually masturbating with my vibrator, which these days can lead to orgasm extremely (excessively) easily.

Saturday night we had an incredible scene.  It ended with me being fucked with a plug gag in my mouth, and hearing over and over that I would not be allowed to come, that the fucking was for his pleasure, not mine, that this was my life, that I must accept it.  It made me crazy with lust, and the fucking felt so incredible, and I couldn’t bear the idea that he would ever come and thus stop, and I writhed and moaned and pleaded as best I could (though for what I am not sure; I would have felt disappointed to be allowed to come).  That kind of helplessness is the good side of the denial.

The bad side came later, when I went to bed alone.  All I could think about was the scene.  A hundred times I had the simple impulse, which I am used to following, to pick up my vibrator and give myself an orgasm.  And then I would think about why I can’t do that, and my thoughts would inevitably go to how I would be punished if I did, and the thought of that punishment was so hot, and so hard not to seek.  And around and around my thoughts went, like that.

Remembering that I am encouraged to masturbate, and thinking Jos would probably enjoy it if I made it harder for myself, I did pick up the vibrator.  I edged myself twice, each time feeling the temptation to say “fuck it” and just have an orgasm increase exponentially as I got close, and each time stopping.  And I knew I didn’t dare edge myself again because I would never stop.  I would let myself come.  And I wanted so bad to just tempt fate, just continue edging myself, until the inevitable slip over that edge.  And I put the vibrator away and I didn’t do it.

The denial makes my pussy have sensations it doesn’t normally even have.  I can’t describe them but they are maddening.

It is terrible to have so many sexy experiences every day and not be able to use them to have orgasms.

I keep wanting to push myself to let go, give up, stop trying to have orgasms, accept my fate.  But I can’t do it, and I don’t imagine it’s what Jos really wants either.  I imagine he wants this striving madness.  Or I could at least feel it more like he does, perhaps – enjoy feeling owned, enjoy the sensation of a wall of his will keeping me from the orgasms I want.  It doesn’t feel that way to me, though.

I can’t believe one human can do this to another.

It is so hard.

how a slave is like a butler

For a few days, there has been a post office notice on our door, about a package for Joscelin.  Yesterday, I pushed him to handle it, and so, as I drove us to lunch, he called the number on the card to try to figure out how to get the package.  He wanted to see if he could get it re-delivered on a specific day when he’d be home, but apparently that was not possible.

“I guess I’ll have to find out what this post office’s hours are and see if you can drive me there sometime to pick it up,” he said.

“Sir,” I said.  “I think what you need to do is put my name where it says you can authorize someone to pick it up, sign the card, give it to me, and say ‘Slave, pick up this package.’”

“Wow…OK.  But, I don’t know what the hours are.  Wait, I can get that off the automated system.”  And he got out his cell phone again to call.

“Master,” I said, a bit impatiently.  “Just give me the card and tell me to pick it up.  You don’t need to find out the hours.”

“Oh, yeah.  Wow. Fuck.  Um…slave, pick up this package.”

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

submissive energy

This is hard to write about here, but I don’t have quite enough outlets elsewhere, so it’s going here anyway.  On my blog about being a fucking dom.  Ah well :-)

You should know, I hate chores.  I basically hate doing anything I don’t want to do, and I’m pretty bad about doing anything like that too.  My house is usually a mess, my room gets abominable before I can be bothered to do anything about it, I wash dishes almost as a last resort, etc.  I’m actually growing up slightly over time and getting a bit better – life really is better if you can find a clean bowl and spoon for cereal – but I start from a pretty low point, motivation-wise.

Today I cleaned the kitchen for Joscelin and my heart just sang with the pleasure of it.  It felt beautiful, deep, almost sacred or holy.  (I am not religious or spiritual or anything.  I am the plainest kind of atheist you can imagine.)  I wanted more tasks from him.  I wanted never to have another moment of time to myself as long as we are doing this. (This is a fantasy idea, like wanting to never come again, or wanting not to be allowed to talk for a week.  I wouldn’t enjoy it if it materialized.)

I asked him for permission earlier to come kneel by his side (he was on the computer) for a few minutes until he told me to go.  (His answer, for the record: “Fuck yes!”)  And I did, and I enjoyed it, and I wished the time were longer even though my knees were getting tired (as they do fairly quickly).

I feel really submissive in a way that seems excessive but also…nice.  I want to be made to do something degrading and difficult as a form of devotion.  I want outlets for these feelings.  And he’s giving them to me, but, of course, there is only so much a dom can do/need/handle.  I’ve been there.

But god, this experience is so rich.

why do we do this?

When Joscelin and I first started talking about maybe switching, we both posted about it on our blogs.  And the general feedback we got (not that we got much) was about it being probably a bad idea.  And I’ve gotten advice about this in real life too.  A mandom friend (two different ones actually) recommended that I not bottom to anyone in front of Jos, because it would probably be confusing or distressing to him.

And it is confusing.  When we switched the last time, he came back from it unsettled, confused, and not as submissive-feeling as before.  I wouldn’t say it’s as confusing to me, at least so far, but then I was already kind of confused.  I mean, I do fantasize (alone) about submitting to my slave, all the time, so that’s already messed up.  And even though right now I am the slave and not the owner, I do think about switching back sometimes, and that isn’t a very submissive feeling.

So why do this?  Why risk (perhaps) screwing up the very good, very hot, very deep thing that we have worked so hard to build?

I suspect you’re either like this or you’re not, but I think neither one of us (me and Jos) can stand to see an unexplored path and not go down it.  In some ways, it is as simple as, we can switch, and so we must switch.  And because we are both so very, very good at feelings, emotional literacy, drama (creating, rolling around in, resolving), and communicating with each other, we simply trust our future selves to work it out.  We’ll be able to handle the confusion.

And we’ll know more than we do, as Jos would point out.  He wants to know things.

Maybe we’re stupid and should be more scared.  Maybe this whole thing will blow up and each of us will move on, wiser and more somber than before, with more limited ideas about what is possible.

But the other thing is, god damn it, I want to know and be known.  I don’t want our delicious F/m relationship if the cost is pretending that I’m not a switch, that I couldn’t submit to Joscelin, that he couldn’t be a dom, that we don’t have these sides.  I want my whole self to interact with his whole self.  I want us to look into each other’s eyes and see the whole thing, whatever that is, with all its contradictions.

So that is why.

how bdsm is like renaissance faires

I really thought Nine Deuce was going to get around to answering the question of how BDSM is like Renaissance faires, but she never did (at least that I saw).  And it’s a shame, because even though I initially thought she must be hinting at “because lame posers who like to dress up are into it,” I actually gave her the benefit of the doubt and came to a real answer for myself.  A sensible answer.

BDSM is like Renaissance faires in that people are taking something that is or was, in reality, kind of brutal, dirty, and unpleasant (the Renaissance period of time; beating/slavery/pain/ownership) and using it as a theme for consensual hijinks (Ren faires; scenes or d/s).  In both worlds, people often use costuming or fancy modes of dress to put themselves and others in the mood.  In both worlds, people focus on the most exciting parts (jousting, roasted turkey legs, blacksmithing; collars, whips, chains) and mostly ignore or don’t incorporate the other parts (lack of plumbing, widespread serfdom, poverty; laboring in the fields, gas chambers, actual non-consent).

And in both groups, there are people who take it very seriously and whose lives seem to revolve around it, and others who just do it for kicks once in a while.  And both groups are easy to make fun of if you’re not into what they’re doing, and (perhaps) easy to be incensed by if you think they don’t understand the reality behind what they’re doing.

So, there you go.  That is how BDSM is like Renaissance faires.

more please

All right.  Now I am kind of back in that space of just wanting more dominance, wanting to have things done to me, wanting to be used, and so on.  It’s a good place, but this time around I am going to work hard on not being a pest and on respecting and being a good friend to my (tired, space-needing) partner.

One of the (few) terms of the present arrangement is that I am to call him “Sir” or “Master” at times that it’s appropriate.  I found myself resisting doing this earlier, which kind of happened the last time we switched as well, in the beginning.  I will hear times that I should say it, and I intentionally don’t, because it’s kind of embarrassing to do it, because I just kind of can’t make the word come out of my mouth.

It’s degrading.

It’s degrading to call someone Master.  Or Sir.  It’s degrading to mean it.

(I speak for myself, of course.)

It’s not humiliating.  It’s not meant to make me feel bad about myself, and it doesn’t.  But it is humbling.  It is degrading in that it involves a lowering of my grade, my place on the scale in the relationship.  And it’s meant to be that way.  That’s what it’s for.  That’s what makes it hot.  I deeply love doing it, but it’s hard to go there.

I let Joscelin know earlier that I’d been avoiding saying it.  I hadn’t said it all evening, in fact, though I’d had plenty of opportunities.

He asked me why I hadn’t, and I said what I’ve written here, that it’s kind of embarrassing.  That it’s degrading.

“I don’t think you should do that,” he said.  “I don’t think you should avoid saying it when you feel it would be appropriate to.  It’s meant to be degrading.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

“Do you want me to punish you for it?” he asked.

I hesitated.  Ultimately I told him that I thought that he probably should – that being punished would have the effect of coercing me into doing it, and that doing it would be both hot and beneficial to the dynamic we want to cultivate.  And I had known that I should do it all along, so punishing me would be appropriate.

And he did.

Afterwards we stood together for a long time, and I relished feeling afraid of him – feeling afraid of his potential energy and his power over me and the look of ownership in his eyes.  He felt concerned by my fear, because if he were afraid like me, it would mean I was about to break him.  But it’s just how I work.  It wasn’t a sign of anything gone wrong, but just a kind of delicious foreplay for me.  If I got too scared it would be trouble, but I know how to calm myself, especially when nothing actually that scary is happening.

He looked sexy and beautiful and I longed madly to suck on his nipple, or his cock.  He kissed me and went to spend some time alone.  I let him.

as the world turns…

Joscelin has been talking lately about feeling confused by our recent round of switching, and not very submissive.  I think we’ve had some nice scenes, though now that he’s started working we’ve had less time together.  But the last time he brought up this confusion, he admitted he was asking for my help, though he didn’t know how I might help him.

Last night, this came up again.  He’s been fantasizing about topping me, a lot, and that’s been diminishing his submissive feelings.  He was really feeling in the mood to own someone, which happens sometimes and usually leads to him mailing people on collarme (to no avail, so far).  He said he saw two ways forward – for me to either tell him (about switching) “no, and not for a while” or maybe for us to switch for a while.

What’s confusing is that it means a lot to both of us for my ownership of him to be “real”, but at the same time we are clearly both switches.  And you can sort of solve this with polyamory, but we don’t have time/energy to meet new people, and in any case, for me at least, I want to do those things with him.

After he had talked a bit, he asked me for my thoughts.  I was self-conscious.  I told him I had thought the other day about what would happen if he asked for us never to switch again, and found that it was a very sad thought, that I would never submit to him again.  I haven’t ever before had the experience of submitting to someone who really loves me, and having that with Jos was really special, and I hated to think of it never happening again.

At the other extreme, the idea that we could just be switches, and switch back and forth more or less freely, also feels like a loss.  I have all kinds of self-image and ego and past practice and … “stuff” … tied up in the idea that I really do own him, and our arrangement isn’t just incidental.  I mean, I don’t have to believe that I own him because I’m intrinsically better/stronger/more dominant, but I do like that I really do own him and it’s not just a momentary convenience.

What I also said was that, it was clear to me all along that I could never be his submissive really, full time, forever…until the last time we switched.  That time, I could see how it could go on and on, and be deep for me.  A part of me wanted it to.

What a muddle.

He wanted to own me, he said.  He wanted to try owning me for a while, without the sense that it would end soon and thus that things had to be crammed in and compacted because the time was short.

I was, on the one hand, not really in the mood to switch, but on the other hand, turned on by hearing him talk.  It was very seductive even though he was pretty much just straightforwardly talking.  He was also bringing up a lot of fears for me.

Eventually, he asked me if I would do it – if I would let him own me.

And I agreed.

After dinner, he held me for a while for reassurance (I was overcome with insecurity, possibly from being a bit underslept this week), and then watched as I shaved my pussy (at his order; this is not something I ever do, or would do, under normal circumstances).  And then he chained my hands to the eybolt and fucked me, which was very exciting.

Except during the fucking, I felt oddly oppositional most of the evening.  I was not particularly interested in doing any submitting that was not demanded of me.  And after the fucking, I felt kind of flat emotionally.  A bit depressed, maybe.  The thought of being owned made me feel tired.  But then, I was tired, right?  So that made sense.  I tried not to draw any conclusions from my momentary feelings.

Today I feel…mixed.  On the one hand, being owned, which I am reminded of partly by the shaved pussy, feels like a very sexy and exciting secret.  Thinking about future scenes, sex, or tasks gives me feelings in the range from excited to scared.  (I am scared to be pushed too hard.  I know what it is to really push someone and I am afraid to be on the receiving end of it.)

The greater sense of reality this time – the sense that we’re not just switching for a few days, but for “a while” – brings up other feelings.  Something that made me cry when I was feeling insecure last night was the thought that I don’t know how to recognize Jos’s love from this side.  I usually get his loving feelings through beautiful subbie eyes and all that goes along with that.  I will miss my slave, and I no longer feel that he’s nearby, just on the other side of a thin barrier.

So I guess I just do not know how this will go.  It was fabulously delicious the last time we switched, and this time I do feel some of that, but not quite the full shebang.  Will it grow on me?  Or will I not be able to continue doing it?  What kinds of thoughts can I think, and which ones should I avoid dwelling on, in order to increase the chances of success here?

And I am struck, as always when we switch, by how much easier being the submissive is in some ways, and how much harder in others.

I guess we’ll see.