Last Saturday was one of my favorite parties, Master’s Den. I was going with Ryan, and more than a little excited to get some serious 1 on 1 play time in before the holidays hit. He hasn’t been able to come to BaGG and I’ve been in serious need of owies… though I’ve needed more than that as well.
Once again, the holiday season is upon us! As one that lives in an area of transplants, I watch throughout the holiday seasons as my dear ones make their pilgrimages home, returning a week or so later craving their own beds and the cultural bubble of the Bay Area. My Daddy Ryan and myself are two of those transplants and will basically be spending two weeks apart when we’re used to seeing each other a couple times a week. Rather than be down about this (and pout epically, and whine about not getting Daddy for so long) I let my mind wander to possibilities.. Having distance, rather than being a hindrance, can be an opportunity to try a whole new set of games…
I didn’t want Daddy to go away. It scared me, lots. While we ate dinner, it scared me. While he gave me owies and made my bottom red, red red and tried to make it purple, it scared me. Even as he hid his lolly in my princess parts and yanked my hair as he fucked me, growing in my ear, ‘cum for Daddy’ it scared me.
Curled up in the nook after, Daddy traced his finger up and down my arm. I had my eyes closed, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and was trying not to think about him disappearing for a long long time. And not getting play. Or cummies. Or Daddy’s voice or hands or smell or..
“Kitten, tell me something you need me to know.”
“MEWWW” I squirmed in his arms as his grip tightened. The phrase was a hypno button he had set up months ago. The he said it, I had to answer truthfully. It was a reflex, an instinct, and a pain in the ass to fight.
“I’m scared of you going away and not getting Daddy time and you not wanting kitten time and being all bored with me and and..and losing connecting.” I hugged him tight, his chest hair tickling my nose as I burrowed further into the nook.
He chuckled. “That’s what’s bothering you? Such a silly kitten. Do you really think we aren’t going to play for two whole weeks?” I nodded frantically and he laughed again. “Oh no, sweetie. Daddy has plans for his little princess. We’re going to play a fun game while we’re apart, one with fun rules and prizes.” He ran his nail down my arm, making me purr at the slight twinge of pain. “Good girls get lots of prizes… Are you ready to learn the rules?”
Days later, Daddy was away. I was taking care of home, cleaning and washing and sweeping and petting the kitty; all the important things, and I was following the first rule of our game. Have my phone on me when I could. When I can’t, tell Daddy I couldn’t talk. Let him know when I come back.
Buzz Buzz. A message from Daddy. We had been talking all day, but this one was special.
Rule two of the new game was really simple. Look for the magic words.
Mmm.. Kitten? Daddy wants a present.
I squeed and squirmed, plopping down eagerly with the phone in my hands, waiting on further instruction. Rule three of the game was just that When Daddy says he wants a present, his little girl gets to do the best she can to give it to him. Whatever that present is.
How may I please you, Daddy?
Good Girl came the quick reply. I want you to go into the bedroom, strip down, and lay on the bed. Bring your phone and let me know when you’ve done as I asked.
I giggled as I ran to the bedroom, pulling off my clothing as I went. The moment my bare ass hit the bed I messaged Daddy.
Good job, kitten. Now, you see that lovely glass dildo on the floor of the bed? It was pretty, and BIG. Daddy had only used it on me once and it stretched my little cunny wide. I want you to be a good girl and fuck yourself with it. And I want to see. Send Daddy a video of you coming like a good little slut and you’ll get a reward.
I grabbed the dildo and had it angled at my entrance when my phone pinged again. Not so fast, princess. Show me that you properly prepped it.
I grinned, bringing the toy from the entrance of my cunny to my lips, slipping as much of it down my throat as I could and taking a selfie for Daddy.
Good girl. Now. Where’s my video?
The dildo, now slick with my saliva, slid in with little resistance. I propped my phone up against the pillows to get the best angle possible as I eagerly fucked myself, already squirmy from just a couple of days without sex. My moans turned into whimpers as I got close, eyes shut tight, imagining Daddy fucking me hard into the mattress, his hand wrapped around my throat and his cock buried balls-deep in me time, after time after time.
“Daddy!!! I’m cumming… cumming, cumming, cumming!!”
I slumped down onto the mattress, toy still inside me, and sent the video. A few minutes later I heard the ding of a message coming through.
Instead of words it was a sound bite, a short recording. I hit play and brought the phone to my ear in time to hear labored breathing on the other end. “Such a good girl” Daddy growled into the phone. “Ready for your reward?” I closed my eyes and moaned as I heard him cumming on the other end of the phone, suddenly turned on all over again. “You may cum again if you want, sweetie, but last time for tonight.” Out of habit I heard myself answer, “yes, Daddy” out loud, and then with gusto I began fucking myself all over again, listening to the recording for inspiration..
The next day I was at work, sitting at my desk trudging through paperwork. I had messages open, hiding behind tabs on my desktop, and saw the flash of a notification from Daddy. “I hope your having a good day, princess. Daddy wants a present.”
I was confused. Daddy knew I was at work. It’s not like I had naughty toys to fuck myself with at the office. “But Daddy.”
“No buts, princess. I know you’re at work. Now, what are the rules of our game?”
I sighed, even more confused. “How may I please you, Daddy?”
“By going into the bathroom right now and taking your panties off. Send me proof.” I stared at the message in shock. I had leggings and a dress on. A lack of panties wouldn’t kill me. But did he really expect me to sit around and squirm all day?
I slipped into the bathroom with my purse and wiggled out of my panties, sending Daddy a picture of them in my hand before throwing them into the bottom of my bag and pulling my leggings back up. My phone buzzed. “That’s not enough, princess. I asked you to show me proof that the panties were off.” My face turned bright red as I yanked my leggings down and raised my dress, sending Daddy a photo of my bare princess parts about to be covered in nothing but the thin leggings that he knew would be soaked by the end of the day. My phone buzzed again.
“That’s what I wanted. Good girl.” Another bing as a video came through. “You may watch this AFTER WORK. It’s your reward.” And a reward it was. I sat in my car after work staring at my phone as Daddy stroked himself hard, teasing me with a few for just a few moments before the camera turned off.
Days later I had gone bareback multiple times, slipped him a tit shot while at work, came silently while sitting in our local coffee shop after rubbing one off for him, and managed to send Daddy a photo of me fucking myself with my favorite vibrator with a plug in my ass. Now I was packing for my own trip. Daddy had been back in town for just a few hours, and I was disappearing just as he came back. I thought the game was over.
My phone buzzed. “Kitten, Daddy wants a present.” I wasn’t going to say no. I loved all the tasks he had given me. And in return, he had given me videos and sound bites to orgasm by. “I want you to bring your little black butt plug to the airport with you, in your carry on bag. Can you do that for Daddy?” I gulped before slipping it into my bag. Of course, Daddy. I like playing games.
It’s normal for me to let Daddy know when I’ve gotten to the airport, and through security and safely to my gate. What isn’t normal is getting marching orders once I get there. “I want you to go into the bathroom and slip the plug into that tight little asshole of yours. Show me proof.”
I ran to the restroom slipping into one of the stalls and hurriedly pulling my pants down. My flight would be boarding in moments, and I only had that little bit of time to wet the plug with my mouth and bit by bit toy my ass with it before slipping it in. It’s harder for me to keep silent during anal play. I had my eyes shut tight as I teased myself, trying my best not to pant or moan and alert the people in the stalls on either side that there was more than simple bathroom business going on. Once the plug was insert, I set a timer on my phone, turned, and spread my ass wide for Daddy to see the pretty little plug resting snuggly in my naughty back door. I sent the message and wanted to cry at the reply.
“Good girl. Now don’t you dare take that out until you’ve landed. Send me proof once you land that it’s still inside and you’ll get a very, very big reward sweetie.”
For SIX HOURS I squirmed in my seat, desperate to find a position that wouldn’t have me horny, or whimpering, or dripping. I kept my legs clamped firmly together and tried my best to sleep. It didn’t hurt, but it did keep me near on edge to the point where I could barely see straight by the time my flight ended.
I ran to the bathroom, flinging open the door of the first empty stall I could find and snapping my landing photo, ass spread wide again, cunny dripping between my legs. Immediately, Daddy responded.
“Good girl. You get your reward tonight, when you’re home and able to talk to just Daddy. I want you to call Daddy for a night night phone call, okay?”
I squealed out loud. I loved Daddy’s voice, and I missed it with him being gone. I suppose I’m a little bit of a sensory slut. “Yes, Daddy.”
At home, in bed, I called Daddy. I was still squirmy from the flight and had sat through dinner with my bio family and hours of conversation with the thought of what my reward would be. Daddy picked up on the second ring. “Well hello sweetie! Are you happy we’re still playing our little game?”
I giggled. “Yes, Daddy.. I’m just surprised.. I thought it would stop after your trip.”
“OH no, sweetie. That would make your trip just much too boring, now wouldn’t it?”
“Do you want more presents, Daddy?”
“Oh yes, sweetie. Quite a few more. Daddy is going to keep you nice and busy while you’re away. And when you come home, you’ll be nice and ready for Daddy to hide his lolly. Should Daddy tell you a bedtime story about how he’s going to hide it when you come home?”
“Oh, yes, please, Daddy!”
Daddy laughed. “That’s my good girl. Now touch yourself while I tell it and imagine all that Daddy is saying, okay? Once upon a time there was a squirmy little kitten that hadn’t gotten nearly enough lolly pop time..”
And that’s all, folks 😉 I hope you liked my little tale. I wanted to write in a scene about a hypno-fuck over Skype and a couple of naughty phone calls, buuuuut those can be entires in and of themselves. I hope the idea came across with the length being bearable. And now I’m squirmy and want to play with Daddy…
Yours, horny as hell
I was having a rough time of it last Wednesday, so much so that I decided that going to BaGG that evening would be too much for my fatigued body.
Poly isn’t perfect. Sometimes, it’s actually really really hard.
I’m just starting the comedown from the first leg of polyinsanity and.. It was not at all what I could have anticipated. Yes, I kept a journal those three days as promised..but a lot of the thoughts written were raw and hurting in those moments, and as much as I adore being the exhibitionist that I am, something I have to keep private.
First off… Annwfn the place.. is unlike anywhere I have ever been in my entire life. The amount of peace I felt from the land itself, not necessarily the people there but the land.. It was beautiful. Freeing. Very few places that have claimed to be ‘magical’ have felt to be so to me.. This was one of them. Yes. There is magic in that land. There is a peace and a calm there that seems to breathe out of the ground itself. I found myself increasingly grateful for it as the weekend went on.
That being said.. My head was not in the best place for the majority of the weekend. I got very little sleep the night before the camping trip. Not from lack of trying. I was overtired from attempting to get everything together… I had taken on some of the responsibility from Ryan so that he could have an evening undisturbed with my meta. I knew what I was doing going in, but I pushed my body a bit too hard, stayed up too late, and my brain would not turn off.
The ride up was fun, for the most part. I made a nest for myself in the back of the car and let my meta and Ryan take the lead going up, responding when I could but mostly letting myself doze and try to recharge. Ryan had worried about me being burnt out from work before the weekend started… My own head burnt me out instead.
Something I learned very quickly this weekend. My own space is important. It rained the day we got there, in a place that I did not know with people I did not know. I can poly well. I’m usually very good at it. I like to share. But there are times when I get overwhelmed, and having time to remove myself from a situation, let myself breathe and process through emotions I’m feeling.. it’s important. It lets me keep the peace in my own head more than anything, and without the room to do so I found myself anxious and jumpy most of Friday night. I breathed through it, tried to logic my brain out of it.
On little sleep I discovered I had little patience, and was more than a little needy (in my own head. I didn’t vocalize these needs, of course. That would have been smart, but I keep tripping myself up with not wanting to ruin someone else’s fun, etc, and so I keep any problems I have to myself). It would be little things that made me feel left out and separate from the other two. Walking out of the room to run an errand and here Ryan introduce my meta as his partner..and running back in to the room too late for him to do the same with me. At one of the rituals there was a chair shortage.. My meta got there first, as Ryan and I had grabbed a short nap and some (much needed, on my end) cuddles. Ryan told me to sit in one of the available chairs, and so I did.. and the chair next to my meta happened to open. They got to connect during the ritual while I was surrounded by a sea of strangers.. Sweet people that I slowly got to know, but still unknown to me in the moment. I just wanted to crawl over and sit at Ryan’s feet..instead I tried to focus on the ritual, and ended up in many ways pulling myself further away from them and isolating myself with my own walled-up thoughts.
I know what it’s like to miss a long distance partner. I know how precious that time is with them.. and I struggle with saying when I’m upset as is, so I kept my mouth shut instead of taking the chances to safeword and pull Ryan aside and talk. In hindsight I should have.. I should vocalize my needs more and explained that I wasn’t okay, but that I would be and I was handling it best I could. That I knew he wasn’t causing purposeful harm and that my brain was just twanging in weird ways. I am trying to get better at finding words when my brain gets stuck.. also hard for me. But it is a necessary thing. Ryan is an incredible partner that can often read me like a book, but he is not psychic. He does need some information to connect the dots and figure out what’s actually going on. Just removing myself from situations so he can continue to have fun was not the smartest of things to do.
That night I didn’t sleep much at all. I went to bed needy and squirmy, craving more touch from Ryan but feeling uncomfortable asking for it in front of my meta. They had compared bruises moments before and I wanted play. Not just play. Touch. Connection. We were all tired from the journey..it was rainy and gross out. I was irritable from lack of sleep and not up to keeping up with my meta’s peppy pace of talk.. and so I tried to sleep. But my body didn’t like the mat on the floor of the tent, and I had underestimated just how cold it was outside… I kicked off my sleeping bag at one point and, afraid of waking the others, couldn’t get back into it without making as shit ton of noise… so I was awake at 4:30 in the morning.
I dressed quietly and crept outside with my camera, my cell, and a book. Another thing I learned… bring a flashlight next time, and at least two books. Cells go down in Annwfn. It would have been easier if I had been able to text my roommate or call Ace. I couldn’t, and I hadn’t known I couldn’t until the service went POOF. But.. I digress.
Those quiet hours should have been miserable, but in reality they were some of the most peaceful I had the entire time I was on the trip. I wandered to the circle area, still damp from the rain, used my camera bag to keep my butt dry, and sat and meditated.
Everything was quiet. The moon was visible overhead and lit the sky enough so that I wasn’t afraid. There were no jitters, no shivers, and I had a moment where not only did I understand the magick of Annwfn, but I understood my Sir Chris just a little bit more. I suddenly got why he woke up at 5:30 in the morning willingly. Because of the peace. The quiet. The stillness that you can only find just at the brink of day. It quieted a chattery mind for a little while.
Sleep deprivation for long periods of time is a very, VERY bad thing for my brain.. I ended up catching another hour of sleep once I returned to the tent, after my brain calmed down.. and then my stupid alarm went off and woke up the others.. They went to breakfast and I just… couldn’t. I needed to sleep more.. Adding to my anxiety was the fear that I was bringing the other’s down with my bad brain and that Ryan wouldn’t want me to come along with him next time he went to this wonderful place.. I was happy he at least got some alone time with my meta and got to go off with her and have fun.
I was in and out of it for a few hours.. I remember Ryan bringing me food, and me sharing best I could what was going on.. Words were hard. I remember him coming back at one point to the tent and feeling the weight of him on top of me, of him hugging me, and all but purring at the feeling.. There were kisses. I love you’s. That man.. When I let him, he takes incredible care of me.
It’s letting him, more specifically vocalizing that I need him to, that is hard..
The rest of Saturday was..intense in good and bad ways. We went on a ‘walk’ with others that turned into a hike. I could NOT have done it on my own. I’m a klutz, royally, and also terrified of heights. I did not bring sneakers. I was in boots, expecting an easy walk through the property.
The hike took us up and down narrow trails of dirt, soft from the rain. By narrow, I mean that there were maybe six inches of trail after the tip of my boot.. These paths were hundreds of feet in the air. There was no fence or guardrail. I’m terrified of heights.
I tried to backpetal. Tried to run. Ryan grabbed my hand.
I spent most of the time staring at my feet, focusing on not slipping, focusing on the feel of his hand surrounding mine. And I did it. I cried at the end, a wave of panic hitting me as our guide made comments about me doing it despite my fears, but I did it. I completed the whole hike, and honestly I was damn proud of myself.
The evening was… a serious blast from the past for me. It has been about six years since I’ve found myself in the mist of any sort of organized pagan group. The numbers, the way the worked, the songs.. I did not think would remind me so much of the coven I grew up in. Part of me was joyous. I knew the words. I remembered the prayers. Part of me was…triggered, thinking of an abusive high priestess that tried so hard to manipulate my every move.
Paganism used to be a huge part of my life.. I could feel the pulse of the earth without thinking; could connect, ground, and center without a moment’s hesitation. That has not been the case for several years now. The spirituality and beliefs have remained the same. I still feel my Mother watching over me. But the warm, fuzzy feelings associated with magick vanished a long time ago.
The ritual was beautiful, intense…and hard for me. I fought through two panic attacks during the two and a half hours, clinging to Ryan’s hand like a lifeline when he would allow me. Thankfully it was cold out and the tremors looked like shivers… I was hopeful that by the time the ritual was over we could go back to the tent and I could ground in my own way. Touch is huge for me. It doesn’t need to be sexual. Just, that tactile connection. Being held, having my head scritched or my back rubbed. All these things ground me and put me back in my body. Sexual touch and play simply light my fire again.
It didn’t happen. I knew logically that no one had the energy. That we were cold and everyone just wanted to burrow into their sleeping bags and pass out…but Godde did it hurt. Ryan was trying his best, I knew that. But..the pushing off and off and off of play triggered yet another damn attack. There were too many echos, too many memories, and this one was all James. All the times that his body just would not let him play. Play had been scheduled. Play had been promised.. And play just wasn’t allowed. I finally fell asleep hours after the others, when Ryan rolled over and managed to put his leg over me. The pressure and warmth calmed my body enough to finally pass out.
I was…jangled the next morning, is the best way to put it. I needed to talk to Ryan. I did, fairly early on. Being upset and angry at him is…hard. Extremely, and it never lasts long. When I can actually find the words for things we communicate well. It’s finding the words when my brain just doesn’t want to settle. I shared some of my third wheel feelings, as well as the disappointment and the trigger associated to play being put off. I asked that it please not happen again, and vocalized that next time I need some time alone with him..
A lot of it was me being mentally unprepared for what it would be like to be in a place like Annwfn. It’s not kink. It’s not my community. It’s magick. It’s.. a part of my past, with a lot of trauma that I haven’t quite dealt with yet, apparently. I know how to cope next time.. More than cope, make it enjoyable. I know what I need to keep myself emotionally healthy and happy, what to expect, and how better to communicate with my partner and metas. And how to communicate in front of my metas as well, not just tuck everything away for later.
I got the play I craved when we got home Sunday afternoon…and fuck did I need it. Ryan stripped me down, shoved me on to the bed while my meta watched, and touched me. Ran his hands, his nails over my body. That was all it took for me to fully come back into myself. For the last of the anxiety to ease and my brain to go mostly back to normal.. My meta’s participation in the play made me… nervous, at first. She wanted to watch, and mentioned that he would have to talk to her. Part of me had internally growled at that. I needed connection. I didn’t want to forsake that and just get fucked.
My meta is a skilled communicator, has an incredible amount of compassion and empathy, and plays in a very unique way. I have not spent all that much time with her in person..but I know Ryan trusts her completely. And I’m starting to. She asked him questions. About me. About how much he wanted me, how I pleased him, how he wanted me, how it felt.. Things that added to the scene instead of taking away from it. There is a part of my brain that’s always a little self conscious and worries that I am just this adorable little to Ryan..That he doesn’t see me as sexy, or beautiful like he does the others… Her questions quelled a lot of those fears.
After. my meta and Ryan went to grab us food while I started this entry at home, legs too tired to walk. My meta..was not so much herself when they got back, and so after eating I excused myself and curled up in Ryan’s bed. I used the time to call Ace, communicate some parts of the hard weekend, what I had learned, and what I would need for the coming weekend. Time alone with both my partners. Clear communication when they needed more or less. ..I am blessed with two incredible partners that truly hear me when I need them to, and force me to listen when I need to.
Ryan took my meta to the airport and I let myself take a nap. I woke up to him lowering himself onto the bed, his weight against me, and me wrapping myself around him as he checked in. We talked.. or rather. He let me talk. I finally got to reassure him that the majority of the weekend was NOT HIM. That I wanted to go back.. and he reassured me that we would. That I hadn’t blown my chance and he wasn’t upset at me..
“I need you to here me,” he said at one point when I had been rambling about fears of ruining his and my meta’s good time with my shit. “Really hear me. It is okay to ask for extra when you need it. I need you to ask for it when you need it. Okay?”
There are moments when Ryan blows me away. Where I think he’s reached capacity, I’m too much of a pain in the ass, and he managed to instead prove to be so caring, so compassionate and loving, that I am at a loss for words. This would be one of those moments.
He doesn’t know all my mental struggles.. To be honest it took some time and processing to come up with the right words for what I went through during parts of this past weekend..but Ryan notices a lot. He reads me well, and he cares enough to ease what he can. I thought I knew what compassion was.. and then I met him. I don’t honestly have proper words for how much I love and trust him. I’m grateful every damn day that he’s in my life.
As for now.. my anxiety is ramped up a bit yet again. Ace is on the first leg of his journey out to me. I have the rest of work, and then a couple hours with Ryan to connect just the two of us before I go get Ace. I am all jitters and nerves..but I am not afraid. I have new tools. I have good, communicative partners. I got this.
And I’m sure I’ll have much more to write after this weekend is over.
Yours, the eternal student
(I apologize for being so behind in posts, lovelies. Much has happened and so I will be posting a couple in rapid succession. It just took me a wee bit to get off the hamster wheel of life long enough to actually write about it).
I feel your fingers
Cold on my shoulder
Your chilling touch
As it runs down my spine
Watcing your eyes
As they invade my soul
I’m afraid to make mine…
A world ago, on one of our car rides home, James and I talked about songs summed up kink for us. We’re both theatre geeks.. a lot of kinksers are, or started that way, and have a love of musicals. My first introduction to kink was Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera. His, he told me, was Dangerous Game from Jekyll and Hyde.
“It’s the perfect scene,” he told me. “Just taboo enough that you can feel yourself losing control, but not so far gone that true harm is done.”
Over a year after that conversation, I sat in the Citadel’s photo room with him, on my perch as always. It was another night, another working party with the regulars. I had a cleanup shift. James was shooting. It was one of my favorites; a nerd themed party that gets busy but not bonkers and attracts some of my favorite people.
We have our routines, he and I, for various settings. Our rituals to continue the dance that is our complicated relationships. One of those steps is me asking in a slow moment if James would like to duel. Our Yu-Gi-Ioh cards have been the preferred, safe method of play since my collar came off. It’s topping, but without the intimacy of physical touch. …It wasn’t nearly as satisfying, but it got me by.
“Not today.” He said when I showed him my deck box and pouted. “I’m actually not in much of a dueling mood.” That’s..odd for him. Very. And I asked what was up. “I don’t know.” He said. He paused and looked at me. “It’s just a weird day.”
Sometimes that man just knows too much.
At the touch of your hand
At the sound of your voice
At the moment your eyes meet mine
I am out of my mind
I am out of control
Full of feelings I can’t define!
“I want you to ask for your collar back.”
The day before the party I was at Daddy’s. It had been a rough night. I had planned to spend the night with Ryan, but at the last minute James had asked me for a ride home. He had a doctor’s appointment early in the morning and would have been stranded without my help. I promised him long ago that if he ever actually needed me that I would be there… and it as the first time I had hesitated.
My feelings for Ryan are… strong. Kick in the teeth strong. He’s the one I spend the most time with. We talk almost constantly at this point, and he knows far too many of my secrets. He has seen parts of my mind that James hasn’t even uncovered, and instead of running stood and faced demons that would have made anyone else head for the hills. I love him. I trust him absolutely.
…I… couldn’t make myself say no to James when he needed me, and so asked my Daddy if I could crawl into bed after driving James.
Selfishly, I’m glad I asked. The ride back with James was fantastic, with banter and stories and him so excited about his new motorized attachment to his chair. The talking was easy and unfiltered. With the only off-limits topic being Ryan.
I crawled into bed with Ryan after 5 am, the cost of taking James all the way to Napa and then driving back to Oakland. And I knew I was it hot water. How I didn’t see two Dominant men in my life butting heads as an eventuality I don’t know, but a bit of a pissing contest had started between the two. Ryan has gotten the closest to “taking Jame’s spot”, making rules for me, setting boundaries and bedtimes. Checking in with me about partners and relationships and statuses… It’s..a primary role without the label. Cause labels can be very bad. James did not respond well to Ryan setting rules for me. Rules he disagreed with, and pushes repeatedly in a “No, I know you best” bullheaded sort of way.
Both men care for me. In very different ways. And both were getting dangerously close to killing one another. To the point where my Daddy asked me to close the door with my former Master once and for all the following morning. There had been other slights, on both sides. Things had been building.
“I will talk to James tomorrow.” I promised. And I would. I promised I would. I did not promise I could close that door. But I could modify the entrance to make it more healthy, for James, Ryan, and myself.
It’s a sin with no name
Like a hand in a flame
And our senses proclaim
It’s a dangerous game!
It was towards the end of the night that the regulars started drifting into the back room to hang out. I moved to the main cluster of chairs with friends on either side and James across from me. The talk turned, as is often did, to James’s toys. He had gotten two new pretties at Dore Alley and had been showing them off almost non-stop since, demoing them when he was allowed.
A beautiful creature from Boston came into the photo room and started chatting with us. She watched how James and I interracted and asked me quietly what our relationship was as we exchanged Fetlife information. I told her the honest truth; the truth that has remained since day one.
“He was my Master. I was his slave. He took my collar back over a year ago. I still love him. I do what I can, and accept the relationship that I am permitted to have with him.” I play by his rules. Or, I try to.
She got teary eyed. “That’s beautiful.”
In a way, I suppose it is, but it’s also incredibly masochistic.
A crowd had drifted into our little room. James turned to face us and join in on the conversation. I was curled up cross-legged across from him, at eye level. This is a rarity for me. It make me nervous. We started telling stories of past parties and surprisingly, he started telling stories of our past. Little things that I had forgotten, or tucked away for another time when sifting through the memories would be less painful. The pinky he used to dig into my skin and drill with that I hated. The hair pulls to kill off some of my worst fatigue headaches when we pushed ourselves too hard. How when the back room got slow he would slam down on my ass to get me to scream and pull people in. A scream that no one in that room had heard come from me. They had all become my friends after the collar came off.
A darker dream
That has no ending
That’s so unreal
You believe that it’s true!
A dance of death
Out of a mystery tale
The frighted princess
Doesn’t know what to do!
James brought out his big knife. Now, I have a love affair with this knife so intense that it transcends the affair with its wielder. James spanks with it, and then will slap you across the ass with the sheathe. The combo is by far one of my favorite sensations on the planet. I relish it.
He started giving some of the others tastes of it and I watched, drooling as I have in times past. I knew better, at this point, then to ask for play. He spanked the pretty Boston girl, and then asked if she would like to feel the knife.
She was uncertain.
I don’t know what possessed me to open my mouth. I had asked the questions countless times and doubted that I would end up with a different answer. But, nontheless, I asked. “Would you feel more comfortable if someone demoed the knife before you were hit with it?”
Both her and James turned to me. He had his eyebrow raised. I crept over and grabbed the knife off the table where it laid, then walked over to him and spoke low enough for only him to here.
“There is no going backwards. We will not be getting back together. If we do, it will be a hard reboot form the ground up. That starts as play partners again, and trusting each other on that level. I know this knife. I know it better than most. I would like to feel it again.”
He grinned, and shocked the hell outta me. “Well, get over there!”
Will the ghosts go away? (No)
Will she will them to stay? (No)
Either way, t here’s no way to win
All I know is I’m lost
And I’m counting the costs
My emotions are in a spin
He hit me, without reserve, and gods did it feel glorious. The cold steel against my ass, the blade that I knew was a sharp, working blade that he had used to slit animal’s throats before (he lives on a farm..). The harsh SLAP of the sheathe as it hit me and reddened my ass.
It was short..maybe ten minutes. I caught my face during it in the mirrored wall. The bliss. Caught his reflection. The grin. ‘Oh godde’ I thought. ‘Oh godde this is too familiar. I’m in trouble. How can this still feel so good? I forgot how good it felt’
My turn ended soon enough. Others went. There was more talk. More stories. And then a round with more toys. His wooden sword and dagger, which I had yet to feel.
Again, I got bold. About ten minutes before the party was to end I crept over and took the dagger off the table. I walked over to him, the timid mouse I had once been to him. “You know. I haven’t felt this one before, ever.” He met my eyes. Motioned to the cross. I got back in position, bracing my knees against the cross at the memory of his blows and hugging the center as I once had countless times before.
I don’t know who’s to blame
It’s a crime and a shame
But it’s true all the same
It’s a dangerous game.
I didn’t expect his hands. The hard wood of the dagger, I expected. The softer wood of the sword as well. But his hands. The double blows I had craved for so long, dreamed about, fantasized about. I hadn’t expected a scene.
I howled under his hands, screeching and squealing as I hadn’t in over a year and a half. I had forgotten how sweet his particular brand of sadism felt, how he switched up sensations just as my body adjusted..I didn’t expect him to still know and remember my body’s responses and reactions. He dug his pinky into my ass and I nearly wept as memories came rushing back; things I had tried to forget. Things from when I was his.
I saw him out of the corner of my eye place the toys back on the table and let myself sag against the cross, recovering. My ass was hot, my voice hoarse, and I knew that was barely a warm up for him. We had played for over an hour easily every time we had scened, and this had been only a few minutes.
No one speaks
Not one word
But what words are in our eyes
Loud and clear
All the words we don’t want to hear!
“I missed it!” Our friend stood in the doorway of the photo room, one of the citadel managers that had been keeping an eye on the party. “I heard the screams and I rushed over, and I missed it!”
James turned to me and grinned, then went back to the table.
“Well. Which would you like me to hit her with?” I stared at him in shock. I thought that taste was it. That we were done.
“Whichever one hurts more?” I groaned. He chuckled. We began again.
At the touch of your hand
At the sound of your voice
At the moment your eyes meet mine
I am losing my mind
I am losing control
Full of feelings I can’t define!
He wasn’t gingerly, which I had expected him to be after so long without playing. After all the talk of how he couldn’t trust me in that way. After how he wasn’t comfortable. He pushed me. He slammed into me for a good 20 minutes using the toys, his nails, his hands. I let myself fall, feeling a release I hadn’t known I was craving. I flew so easily with James, so naturally. I had gotten so accustomed to his ramp up and play that my body fell into the memory of it with no resistance.
Again, I watched my face. Again, I watched his. There was a brief wonder as to why but I shoved it away and enjoyed the feeling of him whaling on my ass. Even through panties, I could feel the bruises forming. I don’t bruise anymore. I get deep tissue bruises, but it is almost impossible to mark me.
He did it so easily, without breaking a sweat.
Eventually, the blows calmed. He pealed me off the cross and pulled me into his arms, holding me. My body shook as I sobbed. I think I muttered several, ‘oh my godde’s and ‘thank you’s and ‘wow’s. My body calmed. I pulled away. We both smiled at one another, and then he gave me another quick smack and sent me off to cleanup.
It’s a sin with no name
No remorse and no shame
Fire, fury and flame
Cos’ the devil’s to blame!
We didn’t talk about the play during cleanup. Or after that. I collected his photo signs and folded up the backdrop with him as I had countless parties before. We joked around, talked a bit, and avoided the pink elephant in the room. He had hit me. For the first time in over a year. I had loved it. I had drawn a new boundary in the sand with our relationship, asking for a hard reset instead of ever getting my collar and ring back.
And I didn’t know what any of it meant. I didn’t know if things had changed. If he was suddenly comfortable playing with me now, or if it had just been a weird night. If this was progress toward a more amicable friendship and relationship, or if this was a child throwing a tantrum at his toy almost being taken away. I knew I wanted to do it again, and that is, I think, what scared me the most. I didn’t know what I was going to tell Daddy. There had been a shift in mine and James’s interactions, but I don’t think it was a shift that either of us had expected.
It has been two months since he touched me, and we still haven’t talked about the scene. What it meant. If anything. The next week before BaGG during our duel, while I still wore his bruises, I baited him. Saying he could always beat me for my brattiness later.
“Well we know that’s not going to happen.”
“Meh, never say never.”
Paranoid me even checked in after, making sure that the joking and kidding was okay. That it was just joking. That this new level of banter was alright and that I wasn’t overstepping.. Instead I was overthinking.
I still don’t know what any of it means, especially now.
Daddy still doesn’t like him. Two days ago, he asked me to give up my friendship with James.
I don’t know what anything means anymore.
And the angels proclaim
It’s a dangerous game…
First off, let me appologize for my lack of writing the last couple of months. Summer was hellish, and while fall so far has been diffuclt it has not been nearly as insurmountable. I have multiple drafts that I have started that I hope to post in the next week or so.. so pardon the spam. There is much that has transpired, and I’m sure much to come.
I’m currently sitting in Wicked Grounds, enjoying my pre-BaGG ritual. Come to the city, get noms, curl up, social, get pretty and go to BaGG. In the middle of that there is usually dueling with James, some banter, and my dear friends and Daddy appearing and joining in the fun.
As is typical, James and I show up first. I no longer have the option of spending long afternoons here on Wednesday.. I have a big girl job now, and typically show up around 5:30. James, depending on his work shift, typcially beats me. Today he looks more frayed around the edges than in days passed…and I am protective.
James just got back into his home on Sunday. The fires that have been raging through Napa and Sonoma county forced him and his family to evacuate. For nearly a week he lived in a shelter, went to work, and dealt with the world asking him how he was, how he was doing, if he was alright. So. I did the opposite. I did my plug of ‘you know if you need anything, I’m here’, got growled at, and promptly challenged him to a duel.
He kicked my ass, as he always does. He also smiled.
Caring for someone like James has never been easy.. it likely never will be. It is especially difficult to be close to him when he’s having a hard time of it. James under more stress than his normal overly-full-I-sleep-twice-a-week-dear-godde-how-do-I-still-function plate results in him practically foaming at the mouth, and while everyone else he can act for he long since stopped performing with me. I get the growls and snaps he can’t let loose on anyone else. It’s not healthy..but I’ve learned how to navigate and diffuse him so that he doesn’t snap at others, to the point where when he has a cranky night during a citadel event I get shoved into the back room first to do what I can before anyone else will come hang out.
It’s..hard. Because I can tell he’s going through hell. He will drop hints of it. That things are more right than wrong, but he’s not up to telling stories and I’m not asking. I’ve been trying to make things as normal as possible… but. Oww. Just. Oww.
I can see it wearing on Ryan. When James is backed into a corner he boarders on cruelty, and Ryan is my Daddy. My protective, wonderful, loving and kind Daddy that knows how to communicate, how to express his feelings and how not to take it out on others. There are times lately where I wished James had someone else. That I wasn’t his emergency everything that he never acknowledges but knows is there when shit hits the fan. But. He doesn’t. And so I try to take care of myself while doing as James asks and not more.
I keep thinking about Napa. About walks around the green college and curling up together on a bench in the park. About the wooded drive to James’s front door, the discussions years ago about going stargazing and laying in the back of Vera, James’s old truck, and telling stories of everything and nothing. Bringing hot cocoa because James doesn’t like coffee and cookies of the chocolate variety, because they are his favorite. I think about missing his driveway every other time because it’s so secluded and hidden away. About every time I’ve dropped James off since Vera died, climbing out of the car to get the parts for his chair and gazing up at the stars filling the Napa sky. My heart breaks.
I don’t know what that sky looks like right now. I know there are stars, but are they visible to the people that have lost so much? I don’t know what of the farm is still left other than the house itself. There were animals that they couldn’t take to the shelter. There were crops. Now there’s smoke and fumes.
James has an event on Friday that I drove him to last year, when I had the ability to take days off whenever I wanted. I work a 9-5 now, and he needs to be there Friday morning. So, I’ll be waking up at the asscrack of dawn, driving to Napa, then driving on another two hours to deliver James to his final destination before driving back and trying to make it to work at 9 a.m…and then working for eight hours. Why?
Four years ago, almost five, my aunt passed away. She was the glue holding my family together and on the list of people in my head that were never allowed to die. Ever. And she did. Cancer. My mother and I had to watch it eat at her, and it was horrible. We couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t help. We just watched the most precious person in both our lives slip away.
About two days later I was still home. The wake was the next day and I was in a fog. I came down the stairs from my childhood bedroom to find my mother sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at the oven. I asked her what she was doing, and she replied matter of factly that she was making a soufflé. It’s something she had never done before. She decided today was the day and was watching it rise.
I didn’t understand it then. But. Now? Making a soufflé was what she could do in that moment. So. She did.
James is a beast right now. The Dragon is loose and beyond my taming abilities. He bites. He snarls. I can not make things better.
But I can give him a ride.
I can’t put the fires out. But I can dust off a small section of ash.
Yours, still standing