Tag Archives: changes

One Last Blast

This will be a very short entry.

I’ve mentioned from time to time my search for a new home, and the scramble to find the place.

Life has been a little bit kind to me. I got lucky.. And unlucky at the same time.

I’ve found a new place, more expensive than my last but with so much more potential. And I love it. My roommates are kinky. There is room for Sir to move in if we reach that point. It is the perfect new home for Poe and I.

As if by magic I got a third job at the same time that all of this was finalized… Finally there was light at the end of the tunnel. I was able to slightly dig myself out of the financial hole I’ve sunk into.

… Life never works out perfectly. It’s just how it goes. This new job that made it possible for me to make first months rent suddenly told me after two weeks of pay that I was going to be off for a week and then they will “let me know” if I would be coming back.

I have a good feeling about this job. I’ve gotten nothing but positive reviews so far and I’ve never been let go from a job of this nature… But that doesn’t mean the fear and panic have not set in.. I needed that week of work, desperately, to make rent… They let me know so late that my backup job wouldn’t be able to pay me until the day AFTER rent is due…

Because the universe is funny like that. When everything seems to start falling into place but the littlest thing off throws EVERYTHING off it’s easy to get scared.

I am still working as hard as I can. As I go through my possessions, packing everything up, I am selling what I can..

But I am scared.

When I first started my search for a place I made a gofundme page.. I was not prepped at all to have to move and found out I had 60 days left in my place two weeks before my birthday.. With being so close… SO close to a safe new home and a couple hundred short I am trying one last blast on here..

I feel pathetic asking for financial help when I have tried extremely hard to build myself back up again, and I’ve come so damn close I can taste it… Nothing is stable right now though. And while my ego is suffering at the thought of this… I’m asking for help.

My birthday was about 3 weeks ago now… So if you awesome people out in cyber space take a bit of pity on a twenty something sub and her cat trying to make it by, a secured safe new home would be.. Incredible.

gofundme.com/mss44j4p

That would be me… You all now have a vague idea of what both Poe and I look like..

Thank you for taking the time to read this… I honesty do appreciate it

We now return to our regularly scheduled kinky fuckery

As always, I am yours

-Rene, aka Rena

Day 15

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Day 15

Has your submission evolved over time? If so, how has it evolved for you and if not (or if you are just starting out) how might you see or imagine it evolving in the future?

Oh goodness yes. Of course my submission has evolved over time.

I’m a big believer in the fact that everyone’s sexuality evolves over time. You grow. You learn more about yourself, about what you actually want in a partner.. or about actually wanting ‘partners’ instead.

For me, I have natural submissive tendencies that just.. come out. I am exceedingly comfortable sitting on the floor at someone’s feet, or even kneeling there for a great length of time. I like cleaning up after partners, making their lives easier by disposing of sodas and plates and glasses in cafes and stuff like that. I like when a partner chooses my clothing, because I like to be as pleasing to my partner as possible (though in all reality for this to be practical I wouldn’t want this unless I was living with a partner.. which I’m currently not). This is without any of the hitty and slappy stuff.

When I first dove into this lifestyle I dove in full force. I had fought being subby for so long.. because females have been fighting so long for equal rights, why on earth would a female want to submit under the hand of a male? It took me over 20 years to wrap my mind around that being okay when both the religion I practiced and the people that raised me preached women standing up to men, being equals, never submitting. Once I embraced the submissive part of myself it was as if the floodgates opened.. I couldn’t control it. I craved ritual, craved the hand of another.. and I got it.

I got the 24/7 relationship I desired… and discovered, over time, that it was exhausting and trying. That in order to keep up the BDSM side of our lifestyle other parts were suffering and communication was breaking down. Eventually, obviously, we broke apart. The pressures of what we were expected to maintain became too great.

I developed from being a 24/7 submissive to being a submissive with a switch. Flip it and I was on my knees in a heartbeat. Ignore it and I stayed in girlfriend mode completely. With my current partner… There is a balance forming in our relationship.. There are times when I am just the girlfriend and not the submissive. I am always his.. because I want to be. Because I expressed that desire, not because he imposed it on me.

The pain thing.. That is also knew. I heard a term the other week that summarized what I am very well. Pain for pleasure. Meaning I take the pain for the pleasure of another. I enjoy being beaten because I see him enjoying it. I look forward to it because I know the pleasure that it will cause my Sir, and that gives me quite a lot of joy. I love showing him how much I can take. How I can lay there and scream and cry but not yellow or red, because I want his hands on me. I want the nails. I want the smacks. I want it all so much…

Oh yes,  my submission has changed over time..and I am thoroughly enjoying how it has transformed, and I’m sure will continue to transform over time…

Yours, a work in progress

-Rena

Day 8

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Day 8

Is spanking or corporal punishment a part of your submission? Why or why not?

…This may end up being a very short post.

Yes. Yes. YES it is part of my submission. Big screamy capital letters YESSSSSSS.

It used to scare me.. being hit. Spanked. Flogged. It used to scare the living shit out of me.

Now?

…mmmmmmmmmmmmm

With Kane, spanking and beating used to be the work for the reward.. The tender touches, the good girl, the fantastic sex to follow. I wanted to earn the ‘good girl’, the ultimate reward for the submissive…

James… He’s a whole other ball of wax. Ever since he and I started playing around months ago, before any feels or dating or… relationshippy stuff… he’s turned my perceptions of pain and pleasure on their heads. It’s just.. part of the dynamic between he and I… I take pleasure from being on my knees in from of James, chest out, knowing a hand is going to come down and redden it. Knowing it’s going to hurt, and it’s going to make him smile. I HATE when he hits my thighs, but smile after the pain fades and they are red and warm.

But spanking with James?

How do I put this…. and this is not in a bragging sense.. This is just him.

The man is to bare handed spanking as Midori is to rope.

His upper body is BUILT. Pretty sure his biceps are bigger than my head… and he wants to get in even better shape. The man can bruise with a single strike.. He could easily finish me for an evening easily.. and instead he pushes me.. His spankings are a rare treat for me. It’s never just a strike. It’s always a build up. He will reach out first, let me know it’s coming, and gently put a hand on my ass, caress it.. sometimes squeeze. And then his hand comes down. I scream. I buck. I gasp. I wonder if I can possibly take another, because damn if that man isn’t always symmetrical. It hurts..and I want more.

There are times when his spankings are gentle. Well, at least for him. Sometimes he will spank me while I’m in between his legs sucking him, light taps compared to his normal strikes. Just enough to attempt to distract me and make me moan, through pants or skirts.

Other types of play… Floggings, paddles, mean wooden spoons that I am still not on speaking terms with… Yes, I like all of that as well. Intense scenes don’t happen as often between James and I.. It’s usually quick moments of play. We’ve only had one full official play scene at a party, on the cross, where he beat me to my almost-breaking point… and then stops right before I would have yellowed.. The man can read my body extremely well. He’s learned how I react to different types of pain even before I process how I handle them.. Yes, I love the intense scenes as well. I look forward to more.

So yes, spanking and corporal punishment are part of my D/s relationship. Why?

Because we enjoy it, both Sir and I. Because we both, in certain ways, need it. And love it. And crave it.

Because it’s part of who I am. And I relish it.

Maybe if I’m a good girl, I’ll get spanked tonight.

I’ve made it more than a week. YES!

Yours in antici…..pation,

-Rena

Daydreams and Dulldrums

 

I turn 24 in 10 days.image

It doesn’t feel like it, really… Honestly I feel older. Exhausted. I’ve had a knot in my chest for about a week now, a heavy weight that continually reminds me that I need to find a new home ASAP with shit credit and very little in the bank. And a cat. Who is currently trying very hard to sit on the keyboard while I type.

My friends back east have started asking me what I want for my birthday.. What do I want? Honestly?

I want one uninterrupted day with my boyfriend. I want to get my favorite coffee drink at my favorite cafe in the Haight and show him all of my favorite spots, including the Anarchist bookstore where we could actually afford to shop. I want to get a new pair of boots at Wasteland and possibly a pretty dress to wear the following night at BaGG.

I want to talk.. have those conversations that only happen when he and I are on our own, and bask in the glory of having nothing to do other than enjoy each other’s company. I want to snuggle. Kiss. I want to sit in his lap and secretly (not so secretly) revel in the fact that there is a lap at my disposal whenever I desire (and/or am allowed to) snuggle.

I want him to surprise me.. to take me somewhere I’ve never seen before. He always surprises me.

I want to eat my favorite popcorn tuna roll at Saru sushi and get the yummy salmon tasting plate, and drink sake out of the pretty little glass cups that look way too breakable to be functional. I want to for once not be in a hurry, not be stressed. I want to feel just a little bit special for the day.

And I admit, I want to go star gazing. I want him to be relaxed and happy and just…enjoy the moment. I want one day that is mine.

And yes, I want fantastic birthday sex and snuggles afterward. I want marks and welts and bites and to sob and shake before being fucked into that blissful pleasure/pain state. I want to fly in the way that only submitting allows me to. I want bliss. And then I want birthday spankings at BaGG the next evening and lots of photos and spankings and bruises. I want his hands on me. Marking me, claiming me. I want that half-posessive grab on my leg he does during BaGG that I’m not even sure he notices that he does… the grin on his face that says “You make look, and you may touch, and yes she’s pretty, but this is mine.”

The reality is that my birthday is on a Tuesday… Weekdays are a hard day to get to relax during.. it doesn’t happen. James has been incredibly busy lately, which is a good thing. It means paychecks and photos and him doing what he loves…

It’s just… yeah.

I can’t take a whole Tuesday off… I have to make firsts and lasts for a new place. I have to HUNT for a new place to start with. I have to make double of what I normally do in a single month, factor in renting a truck, moving on my own, loading truck time, boxes, pet deposits..

I saw an apartment two days ago that I want with everything in me.. I’m waiting, holding my breath, hoping they get back to me and say that it’s mine. And if it isn’t? More applications. More searching. More hoping. More praying my bad credit and cat don’t make finding a home impossible.

I know why I am in the mood that I’m in, logically. I understand the melancholy. The desire to just curl up in the safest place I know and just… stay for a while. I know that this too shall pass and that better things are to come.. That I will eventually turn a corner. That there will come a time when both James and I will find that delicate balance between working enough to afford gas and not working so much so that we actually have free time to see each other..  I was just.. hoping I could actually celebrate my birthday.

23 has been hard. It’s been a bitch, quite frankly. It had a good start… I can’t complain about being a Disney princess for a day and being allowed to run rampant around Disneyland… But 23 had a lot of heartache too… a lot of harsh lessons learned and way too much time spent alone. The reality is that I like having a community.. I like knowing people, having friends.. and yes, I like that I am with someone that isn’t afraid of their kinky side… that is as open about it as I am and doesn’t go by some double name (I’m sure there’s a blog post about that sometime in the future).

I am… exhausted. Emotionally wrecked at the moment. But I’m in a state where I can work in the not so artistic way. Get me like this and I can haul ass.. Eye on the prize. I need a new home. And fuck it, I’m going to get it for my birthday. 24 is all new and shiny.. Possibilities are endless. And dammit I’m getting too old to be this lost for much longer. 24 will have grad school in it, this I can assure you.

And maybe, just maybe, I can get some cuddles, kisses, and bruises from James.. As busy as our lives can be he’s proven to be very good at making time when I need it..and knowing when I need it. Before I can fall and break he catches me and sets me back on my feet, then gives me just enough of a shove so that I can start walking again…

Gah. Okay. That sounded like a ball of mush even to me. I’m done spewing, promise.

Off to work now. HAUL ASS TIME!!!!

Yours, feeling old

-Rena

The Man That Came Back

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I love Rocky Horror nights.

I grew up with Rocky Horror. I’ve gone to shows in five different cities across the country, helped out in a few crews, had a couple very brief appearances as Colombia on one cast when I was skinny enough to pull it off, and know every single damn thing you’re supposed to scream at the screen by heart.

I love Rocky Horror nights even more when they’re James’s Rocky Horror nights. His friends are awesome, the show is entertaining, it gets me to actually talk a little bit to people.. and I get actual alone time with my boyfriend.

I enjoy BaGG with James. I enjoy sitting in the back of the Citadel with him watching him take photos. I enjoy Wicked Grounds with him… But time alone with him is a special treat. It’s what makes my heart race and gets those stupid, silly grins plastered on my face, for no other reason other than we talk.. No filter, no one else butting in, just us. We go off on tangents, and smile, and laugh, and have inside jokes, and it makes Rocky Horror fifty thousand times more enjoyable.

And I LOVE Rocky Horror as is.

And so, at the end of the night of giggles and snuggles and kisses..and a little bit of kinky fuckery (because, let’s face it, it’s us) I said goodnight to my Sir and slipped inside smiling. It was late, but my landlord keeps odd hours, and it was also the first of the month. So I ran upstairs to give him my rent check.

He was stoned off his ass..and I’m not saying that in a mean way. I am very 4/20 friendly. But he..was no longer coherent. He told me when I gave him my check that what he was about to say had nothing to do with the check. He said he grew up in this house, that he had had a hard week, and that things were changing. That, because of a feeling, he was giving me my 60 days notice. He would meet with me tomorrow to discuss with me.

I was stunned. Shell shocked. I briefly begged for my apartment back out of sheer terror before my landlord sent me downstairs.

I vaguely remember fumbling for my phone. I don’t call James. I text him, quite happily, on a regular basis and poke him if he gets lost in Workland too long, but I don’t call. We’re both awkward as hell on the phone, we see each other a couple times a week normally, text a lot… I don’t call. Somehow, in my shell-shocked state I called him.

I was shaking, and crying. I needed him… That is a sickening feeling for me. Needing someone. I take great pride in being able to function perfectly well on my own. I clean up my own messes. I keep my life together. I get by on the skin of my teeth sometimes but dammit I get by. Normally the pride and that little bit of logic that I have keeps me from doing things like dialing my boyfriend’s number and sobbing into the phone until he turns around and drives back to my notapartment. Normally I wouldn’t have let him see me sobbing at all.

I have no memory of that lovely gap of time between after the phone call and before he came back. The next thing I remember after calling him was clinging to him and sobbing. He didn’t shrink, he didn’t drive away. He held me.. he calmed me down. I went from being alone and scared to being surrounded by warmth and safety and a calm voice telling me logical next steps. Post on Fetlife. Go on Craigslist. Post on Facebook. Put up specifics for him to re-post.

He let me ramble. I hiccuped and cried and shook and got his shirt all wet..I kept him up later when he had to go home for breakfast. He snuggled and kissed and nuzzled and talked to me in that voice that turns me into a melted puddle of warm and fuzzy. The voice that only comes out when we’re on our own. It’s the tone that goes along with things like kissing me on top of the head or pulling me to his chest, so that my head rests right under his chin…

When I would have worked myself up again he had me meet his eyes, focus on him. “Hey. It’s going to be alright. You know why? Because I said so.”

That was about where it dawned on me, in my sniffily state as I stood in his arms. He came back. He actually came back. I looked up at him, a little in awe, and ask him why.

He shrugged, his arms still around me. “You called…”

That’s never happened to me before… someone coming back like that.. The closest I came to a crisis with Kane was finding a cockroach in my bed and freaking out. I had called him, just wanting to hear his voice so that I could calm down and he sent me to voicemail, because it was too late and he needed his sleep for work tomorrow. James had to drive over an hour back to his place.. It was nearly dawn as it was. He could have told me just to go to sleep. My mind would have calmed down eventually, just as it did with the cockroach. Ewwww cockroach.

James came back.. He didn’t run when I freaked out. He calmed me down, gave me logical next steps, and made my racing mind slow down enough for me to actually see that it would be okay.

Something like this is… stressful, intimidating, and trying. I fall into routines really easily and like the comfort of routines. It’s easy to become complacent. To get used to a ‘normal’, and I admit that I have. I like my dinky little apartment… but there are some serious pros to moving. Poe no longer constantly getting fleas (and by constantly I mean he’s gotten four flea baths, been professionally groomed, the apartment has been bombed 3 times, he’s had 3 doses of Advantage and wears a flea collar… the struggle is real), my boyfriend not having to pop off a wheel to get in and out of my place.. Actually being able to shower with my boyfriend. Him not getting into a fight with my bathroom every time he comes over…

Dare I hope for a bath tub? Dare I dream? Ohhh bubble baths from time to time would be so nice…

And a non-psycho landlord who isn’t half out of his mind most of the time would be a huge plus.

I hope for positive things. Good changes.

Now to continue packing up my apartment, stalking Craigslist, and searching Fetlife for more kink friendly housing.

And just because Poe and I could really use a new home.. I’m looking for a room in the San Francisco Bay area. About $1000 a month budget. Must be cat friendly because of Poe. Kink friendly and wheelchair accessible both pluses. `If anyone knows of anything… Contacting me is definitely okay.

It’ll all be okay.. I have faith.. And in reality I am a very lucky girl.. I love who I belong to. I actually have a man who cares enough to come back when I need him…

How could things not end up being okay?

Yours, as always,

~Rena

When One Dore Closes…

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Purposeful misspelling, I promise.

Yesterday was Dore Alley, or Up Your Alley, or Leather Alley..whatever you want to label it as. I tend to go with “baby Folsom” because it’s the easiest way to explain it. It’s Folsom before Folsom. A taste of what is to come at the end of September. And going to it the last two years has made me very, very happy.

It was a harder day for me than it was a year ago. My sister, my best friend, is now 5800 miles away in Denmark. She left that morning, around the time that the event started…

I don’t really want to go into the details of my emotional state.. Rather the events resulting from it.

I found myself at Dore Alley, drying some tears after an intense last-stateside conversation with my sister. It seemed like just the therapy I needed.. I knew James would be there. My friends would be there. I wanted to be around my friends, out dressed in clothing that had me feeling more comfortable than any street clothing could.

It was right about then that I got nostalgic. I walked through the sea of half-naked bodies, assless chaps, and human puppies thinking about the previous Dore Alley, where Kane had met me after his wife left for the airport..

Kane and I have talked from time to time since we’ve split and had a habit of passively liking posts on Instagram, but other than that I had long ago stopped going out of my way to reach out to him. The year before Kane had been all that was on my mind. I took teasing photos for him at the event, begging him to come out and play, missing my boyfriend while I tried not to think about his wife.

Being the little show off that I am sometimes, I signed up for the naked dance contest. This, at the time, was extremely out of the ordinary for me. I still changed in the bathroom at the Citadel. I was never naked in public, never. I didn’t think anyone wanted to see chubby little me naked. I wanted to do something bawlsy and get lost in kink while I could. I had a vanilla job, Kane had no interest in the public scene, and the voyeuristic part of me that I refused to acknowledge most of the time wanted the attention of gyrating on stage in front of hundreds of people.

And so I stripped with Kane watching me, looking at me with the ‘I will fuck you later’ look. He held my bag and my clothes while I ran on stage, terrified and thrilled all at once. I stood in back, found him in the crowd, and danced like an idiot.. But it was fun. I kept locking eyes with him. I shimmied my hips and my ass and stuck my tongue out and just…enjoyed myself.

Somehow I ended up shoved in the front. I don’t know how. I still don’t like being in the front.. I like being the support, the background, but the spotlight and I still aren’t on speaking terms. I couldn’t find Kane in the crowd and wasn’t sure I wanted to still be on stage at all.

I looked down and locked eyes with my worse nightmare, a camera.

I vaguely recognized the person behind it. He took photos at some of the play parties I had gone to, and usually had a naked Asian woman in his lap. He was loud, with a big booming voice and over-the-top personality that scared the shit out of me. He had an easy power to take center stage, to make others notice him.

And he was watching me.

I kept dancing. I still couldn’t find Kane..and so I kept my eyes on the red headed camera guy. Saw the smirk on his face, the look of amusement as he took photos of everyone. I was attracted to him.. to strong hands, to the look of intensity he got when he worked, to the blue eyes I somehow hadn’t noticed before and the scruff… I have such a weakness for scruff.

Eventually we all stopped dancing and my viking collected me. We waited around to see who won the big prize, and I remember the red headed photo guy won even though he hadn’t danced. He knew everyone, was talking to everyone when I went home with Kane.

It’s amazing the difference a year can make. I ended up running into Kane amongst the latex and leather of Dore Alley. We talked..caught up, touched on why we ended and what we had become. He told me he was still pretty single. I finally told him I wasn’t. I confronted him about me being a secret..about him never fully letting me in his life. I wanted to meet his friends and his family, and he always kept me at arms length. I was never fully one of his people.

He looked started when I told him that, and then he smiled really sadly.

“Rena… I didn’t keep you from meeting my people. I don’t…have people.” He shrugged. In the middle of this clusters came over and chatted. They hugged, we talked. There were people from the Citadel, from BaGG, people I see week after week that I would call friends. When there was finally a break in the people and conversation he smiled. “Clearly, Rena, you have people now. You needed it.. It’s nice to see you finally happy.”

He’s right. I am happy.

We parted on good terms with plans to do a studio night together and hang out, just as friends. He went off to explore the rest of the festival, and I ended up kneeling next to my favorite red head with a camera. Yes, the same one that I finally noticed a year ago.

The same one that, during my conversation with Kane, was never too far away.

James still scares me.. but for entirely different reasons than that day I first noticed him. The chuckle doesn’t scare me..or the smirk.. The nails digging into my chest don’t scare me, and while I flinch when his hand comes down to hit me that doesn’t scare me either.

It’s when his voice gets soft and tender and his touch becomes feather-light that I become afraid. When he pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head so softly, so sweetly that I feel so entirely cherished and safe.. That is when he scares me.. Because this man has slowly captured more and more of my heart.

My life is changing.. for the better I think. I’m slowly getting myself un-stuck. Creatively I’m working again, financially I’ve collected another job that is slowly taking the place of unstable funds. Social wise I have friends… I go out, I see people. I smile a lot.

Romantically..

Romantically, he’s got me. I trust him, completely. I am his.

…It really is that simple

I am his. And I am happy.

Sometimes, doors closing can be an incredibly healthy thing. It can make you even more confident about your choices to open others.

Yours, smiling

-Rena

Exploring New Ground

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Tomorrow I leave for Fusion, a Dark Odyssey event in Northern Maryland. The event consists of 5 days of kink, INTENSE kink, classes, bonding, camping, etc.

When I originally bought my ticket, I was in a very different place with a very different relationship dynamic. I bought it missing the connection I had felt at Surrender between D.O members, and with the hopes of further exploring a connection with somehow I had met at the event outside of the “crash, bang, boom” as he put it.

Now, going, it’s almost like starting from scratch. I am in something new and shiny with someone who just doesn’t do relationships (something I’ve heard over, and over, and over), who for some reason picked me. The question is, will he keep me or will I bore him?

I have been back in New Jersey almost a week visiting my family before Fusion (the excuse that allows me to go to the event)..and I am at the point of crawling out of my skin. I’m blessed to live in a kink bubble, where all of my friends are in the scene in some way. I didn’t even think about vanilla repercussions for kinky actions before I left. I asked James to mark. I don’t have a collar yet (and I don’t want one yet. I take the commitment of a collar seriously. It’s something that’s earned with time and not something that appears just because you say you’re in a relationship with someone) and I needed something for my frazzled subby mind to feel claimed when I’m going to an event where many MANY others will be touching, and taking, and fucking, and spanking me. And, short term, it worked. I love when he bruises me. I wear the marks with pride.

…My parents…not so much. Hearing what I do is one thing. Seeing visible proof of the type of relationship I am in? … Probably a bit too much for them, along with me trying to justify why I have the marks. “I’m going to be gone for so long, and I’m going to a big kink event without my significant other. Seeing the marks makes me feel possessed even when he isn’t here.”

…Bad choice of words resulting in multiple lectures about how “loose” I’ve become. I’ve written multiple times about how open minded my parents are, and they really are. They will just always see me as their little girl, and processing the fact that their little girl craves being bruised and marked up is too much for most parents that I know, even mine.

Fusion… I’m still torn about it. Yes, I’m excited. I got my tent. I’ve got the extra phone chargers, a rough schedule of what I’m up to, a notebook for classes, more outfits than GODDE because dammit I’m gonna look cute if I’m gonna be photographed. But I’m still nervous. I know Smith and I will cross paths, along with his partner, and I’m not sure what will bother me more. If he acknowledges me or if he doesn’t. I don’t care about any kinky fuckery we engaged in. I care about the loss of a friend… so much so apparently that I’ve had rather vivid nightmares depicting multiple reactions from him if we cross paths. Why am I going on my own? Why did I think this was a good idea???

Before I left for my trip back east I stopped by to visit my friend Lexi. She humors me and listens to me ramble…probably much too much… and I did indeed ramble about James. It’s been a while since someone has gotten to me as much as he has, gotten under my skin, and she let me gush about how sweet he is, let me ramble about how nervous I was and how new and shiny things were and what on fucking earth was I doing. She smiled when I squeed about being in a relationship again..actually being someone’s girlfriend where that someone is willing to show me off to people. I exist, everyone knows it..and it’s a nice novelty after being a secret and a second choice.

We talked about my worries about Smith and any conflict between him, his partners, and I. She just laughed. “You’re not a drama starter, pixie”, she told me. “You’re not going to go looking for a fight you don’t want. Besides, before if they messed with you they were messing with me, along with others. Now?” She laughed. “They’re messing with James. Not something someone does unless they have a death wish. He chose you, sweetie. That means a LOT, especially from him. He doesn’t take someone on lightly.”

Logically, I know all this. But logic and I don’t always get along, especially when emotions get involved.

The logic of “I am his” slowly gets worn away by days trapped in a time warp 3000 miles away. I love my family, I do, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been gone from my kinky little world, especially for this long. There’s only so many times I can say “I miss you” and not feel pathetic.. which I kinda do. It hasn’t been that long. It’s been a week. I’ve done long distance relationships where I went months without seeing my boyfriend and I was okay.. But I also skyped with that person, and had nightly phone calls, and sent photos back and forth and… yeah.

I’ve mentioned before how tactile I am. How I need touch from a partner. Being away from someone who I’m used to all but mauling me twice a week while immersed in this time warp environment has not been good for my girl brain, at all. He’s given me time.. he texts me when he can, and I appreciate that. I smile every damn time I see a text message from him. But I keep waiting for something to go wrong.

Because when I was with Kane and I came home, something always did.

Not a single holiday passed when we were dating where I wasn’t crying, missing the connection between he and I. I would go weeks without hearing his voice and seeing his face and it would KILL the part of me that craves connection. Trying not to go into panic mode with James when I’m this far away for this long has been an interesting challenge. He doesn’t do selfies, can’t Skype, and has shitty phone reception.. so my options are limited to words showing up on a screen. And I can feel the disconnect, the removal from the world I’m normally happily a part of.

When I’m fully immersed in the SF Kink scene I have no jealousy issues, and no self-doubt issues. I can tell from the way James looks at me that I am his, even when he goes off and spanks others, kisses others, etc. Most of the time I’m such a voyeur that I love to watch him do bad things to others, and the idea of watching him bottom for someone actually turns me on quite a lot.

Tonight, my jealousy spiked, along with my insecurities, while I was packing for camp. I was texting with James and he told me that he had recently reconnected with an old friend, and that they had bitten him last night.

Girl brain did very bad things. My lovely girl brain immediately tail spinned, going “That’s it! That’s the bad thing! You’re about to be downgraded, girl. Forget keeping that girlfriend title, forget having that talk about being his primary partner. FORGET IT. There’s no way you can compete with someone he has history with, especially when you’re this far away for this long. Of course he’s playing with someone else! You’re practically unreachable for almost a month. What did you expect?”

Now, logically I realize that my girl brain is on crack. A man like James does not randomly go “Ummm… YOU! I pick you!” after years of not having a relationship and just drop them like nothing. I know he cares about me. But I feel so damn isolated out here, and he’s out there having fun, and seeing friends, and playing.. and all my insecure bits say, “This is a very new relationship.. perhaps too new to survive you being gone this long…”

I am scared of Fusion, but I also think I need it to get my head back on straight. I am a kinky little creature. I’ve gotten into a pattern of play, between BaGG and dungeon parties, and too long without it does not make for a happy pixie. Specifically, and I hate admitting this, too long without seeing James. Without kneeling at his feet, or curling up next to him, attempting and failing to brace myself for the slaps and nails and kisses that make my knees week. I want to see what this other kink community is like… and I admit, I’ve enjoyed planning things with James in mind. I’m putting myself out there with getting photos taken. I normally hide from the camera at all costs… but I’m with a voyeur, and I aim to please.

This is new ground for me all around.. new kink event, new relationships, new boundary lines with the parental units…

Time to finish packing.

Yours a little out of sorts..but I’m getting there

-Rena

Longings

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I had forgotten how much my arms ached when bound behind me. It’s not a position he normally puts me in, and he hasn’t pulled out the rope in so long.

The bound wrists are tied to my ankles, which rise to meet them from my painfully bent knees. My legs have been pushed to their limits time and time again, my arthritic knees bitching at every turn. I could feel a slight shaking as I tried to maintain my balance on the squishy mattress, keeping my back arched and my ass on display without flopping over or suffocating myself. The soft mattress attempted to suck in my face and I bit back the growing panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

“Do you remember the first time we did this?” Ah… the voice. I love that voice, the slight accent drowning out the growing buzzing built by panic. I feel a hand caress my rounded ass and exhale, my body relaxing to the best of its ability in my current position. I no longer feel the strain in my limbs or the rope against my skin. I no longer notice the awkward angles of my limbs. Only his hand, where it touches the area of me that belongs to him the most.

The gentle stroking suddenly turns to six rapid fire, hard smacks on my ass, causing me to cry out. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“Yes, Sir. I remember.” And I do, very well. I have never been bound before Sir, for any reason. I am slightly claustrophobic, and when I can’t breathe properly and can’t escape of my own power I get panic attacks. Not with him.

The last time he bound me I felt like a goddess on display. He tied me to the bed, on my back, facing the foot of the bed. He took polaroid photos of me bound from different angles and then bent over and kissed me, passionately.

He fondled and fucked, and in the middle of it all, just as my orgasm built and I began to beg for more, he would pull away and pull out his sketchpad. Frantically he drew, capturing me as I was with the emotions of what we were doing coursing through him. I watched him each time he pulled away with half-lidded eyes, drunk on passion and honored that I inspired him enough to be considered muse worthy. I had never considered myself more than average in appearance. Inspiring a talented artist to work was almost an even greater honor than being permitted to submit to him.  Over and over again, he fucked me then drew me, until finally we were too entrenched in the scene for him to pull away any longer. He fucked me bound until I came, hard, trembling in my bindings.

Afterwards, he showed me the sketches and I knew I was in danger of loving this man. He drew me like a Matisse nude, with a simplistic beauty that took my breath away. He made me feel like a was a stunning beauty for the first time in my life, and then topped it all off by giving me art supplies on the way out the door. “I was in Flax and thought of you.” he said, as if it were nothing, handing me pads, and brushes, and a beautiful watercolor set. In that moment I wanted to cry. He made me feel so cherished. He thought of me outside of our BDSM hookups, when I wasn’t tied to his bed. It was the beginning of loving him.

“Do you remember how that night ended, beautiful?” His voice brings me back to the present. I close my eyes, savoring it. His hand cups my ass and squeezes as he asks.

“You fucked me, Sir, until we both came and I had gumby legs for the rest of the night.”

That earned me a short chuckle and another swift smack on the ass. ” I did. And do you know how it will end tonight?”

“No, Sir. But I can hope.”

His hands, along with his body heat, left me, and I stifled a whimper. When he is Sir he points out my little noises and chides me for my whining. It’s not about what I want. It’s about trusting him to give me what we both need.

I hear the ‘pop’ of a cap opening. A shiver runs through my body.

The gel is cold against my skin as he rubs it against my anal opening. It quickly warms as his finger follows, slipping inside and toying me gently. I moan and push back eagerly, or as eagerly as my bonds will allow, causing another amused chuckle.

“Good girl. Someone’s greedy tonight.” He slips another finger inside and I moan. Before I can push back he pulls away completely, his warmth leaving the bed.

I hear the scratch of pencil against illustration board and moan again. He’s sketching me, my ass facing him, all my bits and pieces and pudge on display for this man. Not only does he want me, he wants to capture me. I’m dripping wet by the time he returns to the bed, trembling head to toe and on the brink of orgasm and he’s barely touched me.

A pattern emerges similar to the first time he tied me up. He toys my ass, smacks it, even bites it, and then pulls away. I hear more sounds of pencil on board, and then he returns to torture me once more.

Time doesn’t exist in those moments. Your limbs reach a point where they are numb. You no longer feel the ropes binding you; forget they’re even there. You only hear the sketch sounds and feel his hands on your flesh and in your holes.

Finally, he gives me what I crave; what only he can give me. He seats himself inside my ass and begins pumping vigorously into me. He uses my bound wrists as leverage, pulling me to meet his cock with each thrust, and I know the sketching is done for the evening. I let myself get lost in the feel of his cock inside me, chanting over and over, “Oh Godde, oh Godde. Thank you, Sir, thank you! Oh Godde thank you for fucking my ass..”

And then I wake up. Shaking and midway through another round of “Oh Godde”. My undies soaked, my body tight beyond words, I reach for my vibrator and finish the job in hopes of some peaceful sleep that evening. I force two or three orgasms out of my body, all the while picturing my Dominant between my legs instead of my piece of vibrating silicone, and exhaust myself physically, hoping my mind will follow. I close my eyes again, knowing that a similar dream will appear the next night, and the night after that until his hands are on my body again.

I miss him. I want him.

And I am so grateful to have had inspiration for such vivid dreams.. I may be sexually frustrated, but I am blessed. I crave his hands on me..because I remember just how wonderful it feels.

It’s 2:28 a.m… I need to go grab my vibrator and exhaust myself to sleep.

Yours,

-Rena

Poe

The closer it gets to leaving for Boston the more I think about the people that really matter in my life… and the relationships I have with them.

California seems notorious for fair-weather friends. I’m sure there are close relationships somewhere.. I have met a couple Cali people that I know would be there if shit went down. One I know watches, just as I watch, even if we don’t speak so often. The other is slowly becoming an important member of my life.

I haven’t gone to the dungeon to play since I got back from Thanksgiving… and that hasn’t eaten at me. It hasn’t bothered me. I haven’t felt the need to be fawned on or flirted with, and have casual encounters. I enjoy the people I know through the Citadel, but that craving hasn’t been there. I’ve been working, actually working my ass off..and suddenly I have expendable income again. I will be able to truly enjoy myself over the holidays without fear of running out.

The lack of contact, for whatever reason or motivation,  has rubbed several people the wrong way.. I can understand, but in the end there are time when I have to put obligation above a fun night out. I work hard so I can enjoy myself and play later. I know too many people who just get by in the community I swim in; people much older than myself. I grew up just getting by. I have a man that loves me enough to have made sure the bottom didn’t drop out when I was at my worst, but I have watched the strain on his face when I was barely getting by. I don’t want to do that to him, to us, or to myself. I may never be wealthy, but I’m determined to have a roof over my head and food in my fridge, even in San Francisco.

Recently another responsibility has fallen into my lap; one I wasn’t truly expecting. His name is Poe. He is a loving, purring black ball who greets me at the door when I walk in and snuggles with me at night. Kane is insanely allergic.. the one thing that scared me about getting Poe. I hadn’t intended on going to the shelter..but it happened. I visited him three times before adopting him. Before I bought the stuff for him, before I called the shelter asking if he could be mine, I talked to Kane. It’s true, I’m lonely in my apartment without him. I’ve said that several times. But I wouldn’t put a cat above Kane’s health and happiness. I pestered him.. asking for clear confirmation that he was okay with Poe. That if I got the cat things would still be okay with us. We would be okay.

I love that man so much.. He told me straight out that he wanted his Rena happy, and he knew that a kitty would make his Rene very, very happy.. and that little bundle of fur has.

My cat is a cuddle whore. He curls up with me and purrs throughout the night and will plop into my lap the moment that I get home. In the shelter he walked over to me when I was playing with his little roommate, plopped into my lap when I wasn’t looking at him, looked up at me, meowed, and started purring. I was hooked.. He’s settled into my apartment with no problems. The last step with him is meeting Kane, which will hopefully happen today. I pray my boys get along.. I have an odd feeling they will.

I’m so grateful to Poe..that little ball of love has eased the last of my ache. He’s allowed me to lighten up. To not be so tense. The more I lighten and loosen, the more I see Kane do the same. I know he’s been busy and stressed, but more and more of our interactions I see the man that I proudly submit to, not the shadow of himself that I’ve seen. The more I take care of myself the more he does the same…I still don’t know what will happen after the holidays. Neither does he. But I know the road trip will do him good, just as the trip to Boston will do me good… We both know what we want to happen. We just have to wait and see. But I’m hopeful. I’m optimistic.. and I’m actually happy.

And then there’s Smith. Yes, the man continues to have an influence on me and be a pretty active member of my life. We are slowly getting to know one another…but usually end up poking one another daily and trading a text or two back and forth. He was the first to scoff at me not having relationships with the people I play with and just going to play. I still think casual play can be good from time to time…but I’m starting to think Smith has the right idea. I am getting so much more out of the different quality relationships I have, why go give myself to people just to do it? That’s putting a bandaid just a problem for me. Not helping me become the best me that I can be.

I am very blessed. I have three fantastic men in my life, all gifted to me by a very kind universe when I needed them. And all of them share very well when the need is there.

Well.

Almost all of them.

Poe is incredibly possessive of his mama.

Yours with a content, purring cat in her lap =^.^=

-Rena

Happy?

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I’m working on that whole happiness thing…

Today I got this crazy idea. I was driving to job #1 of 2 when I heard on the radio one of those ‘be the blankety-blank caller and win Disney tickets’ things.. Disney tickets? Excitedly, I called, and called, and called..as I drove mind you. I called sixteen times when all you needed to be was caller number 97.

There’s no magic fix button. Relationships are hard. Poly relationships can be even harder. I can’t magically go back to Disney, to that perfect weekend where we just..were. And there were no worries. And he could proudly call me his girlfriend.. I could call him my boyfriend. He could show me off instead of keeping me a secret. We could geek out and listen to Sci Fi audio books on the eight hour drive back.

The first time Smith and I talked at length was the Saturday at Surrender. He sat me down and asked what my happiest memory was. Immediately, my mind went to Disney. To when I was his princess, if only for a weekend.

I’m honestly grateful to Smith, especially lately. Normally when I can’t see Kane I become an extreme introvert. I curl up in a ball and don’t move until absolutely necessary. It hurts too much. Every time I try to recoil or pull away he’s been pulling me back.. in ways I haven’t expected. Smith has a primary partner long distance as well as several partners in his area. I’m… semi long distance; he’s in Long Beach, I’m in San Francisco. I’m starting to think the man has the patience of a saint. He listens..and listens..and LISTENS when I’m missing Kane. He listens to me ramble and tell stories and will say things like “I can’t imagine how he looks at you. He’s so lucky to have you.” And it’s genuine! That’s what shocks me! The man does not have a jealous bone in his body. I’ll call him crying on days when I ache and he’ll listen to my schpele.. and then go, “It will all work out. Of course it will all work out. He LOVES you. You love him.” But it’s not that simple, I protest. “Life isn’t simple” he tells me. “But love is resilient. You don’t take on ownership of someone lightly. From the sound of things you and him were inevitable. It’s not like you two wanted this to happen. It just… did. That can be the best kind of love.”

It’s true..it is. When I curl up in Kane’s arms I breathe better, easier. I wish… I wish I had the ability to ease him like he does me. I am so very worried about him..

The other day, my insecurities were in full force. Nothing is certain right now. Kane has so much on his plate that so much as saying how much I love him stresses him out because it adds obligations to his already full plate.. He has to then take care of me. To make sure he loves me too, etc.. A lot is kept unsaid because of that. I admit, I’ve become guilty of some bad habits lately. Stress eating, comfort eating..yeah.. And I can feel the five pounds I’ve gained. It’s not much, but it’s enough that it’s visible to me.

I was working job #2 and had stopped for a dinner break, thinking nothing of it. I parked, got out, and walked the block to the local kink cafe..and then noticed something very wrong with my collar. A ring that Kane had given me, that normally encircles the band of the collar like a dog tag, was missing. I, as I often do, started crying. I retraced all my steps. I searched the street. I even went so far as to retrace some of my stops from work… nothing. And all I could hear was Kane’s voice in my ear. “Keep this safe for me.” Over. and over. and over. I had failed him, and managed to lose the part of my collar that I love the most.

As I pulled my car into the garage my collar broke off, sliding down my chest and laying in my lap.

I feel naked..unclaimed. Bare. I keep reaching to my neck out of habit to play with the ring and..nothing. I asked Kane what to do.. “That’s up to you” he said.

Smith stepped in halfway through my meltdown. I had left work early and was driving home watching my phone buzz. “You would never hurt him on purpose.” he said. “This was an accident. It wasn’t your fault”

I was careless. It feels like my fault. Every day I wake up, send a morning photo to Kane (the only ritual I’ve never fucked up), and look over at the collar, unsure about how I should proceed. That collar is such a huge sense of security for me. It’s a reminder of who I belong to when I’m afraid…

Afraid of what?

Afraid the man I love will disappear.

I can’t ask him for more..because he just doesn’t have it there to give. He acknowledges this often.. too often. “I’m sorry I can’t be the man you need me to be right now.” He says. Over and over.

I don’t need anything other than to see genuine happiness on his face again.. I haven’t seen him happy in almost two months. Even when I got him for a week after Halloween he was a ball of stress..

I am lucky. I remind myself of that often. I’m slowly digging myself out of financial trouble, starting a new job.. in essence getting my shit together. I have a man that loves me. A family I am extremely close to. A new partner who’s making sure I don’t dissolve into a depressed ball of emo poop. There is no reason to wallow. No reason to be negative.

Part of me feels so incredibly useless because I can’t make the man I serve happy. I can’t fix it. No matter how I serve or what I do there is so much else in his life.. an hour with me is a small miracle to arrange these days.

I forget what nights with him are like.. it’s been so long. I try not to hope when the next night will be. I’ve been clinging to this hope of “Just get through the holidays and it will get better.” Now.. I don’t know..

I’m not going anywhere.. And when he does take me, when he does dominate me.. Godde am I happy. I see a glimmer of the man I’m head over heels for when he dominates me. The weight of the world disappears from both of us, if only for a moment, and we can just be. I can serve, my complete focus on him.. and he can get lost in the dominance. A simple thing like just being held by him for a moment eases all these aches and pains I wasn’t fully aware I had.. Being held by him makes me breathe easier.. When he wraps his hand around my neck, however..that’s when I finally feel relief.

Mr. Smith was originally Mr. Dashing. I changed it in the entry..because the nickname stopped making me happy. When I met Smith, his first reaction to me was to do a double take at my appearance, go “wow” several thousand times, grab my hand, bend at the waist, and kiss it. Who kisses hands like that anymore? And then this dapper gent runs off without giving me his name. GAH. I felt like some strange reversed Cinderella. I thought “Mr. Charming” would be too corny of a nickname and chose “Mr Dashing” instead.

It was a mistake.. It bothered and hurt my Dominant. I could see that every time he brought it up and tried to play it off..and it ended up hurting me when he mentioned he was going to call his secondary “Ms Beautiful.” … After gaining a little weight and feeling like shit for quite some time I didn’t like the idea of someone else being his beautiful girl when I was…what?

BLAH

I fixed it.. I hope. I’ve been fixing a lot of things lately. I’m so fucking tired…

This trip to Boston is so needed. I will be staying with one of my dearest friends from college and seeing three others.. It’s funny. When we met me and two others were single. Now one is in a common law marriage, one is swimming along brilliantly with her boyfriend, one is looking at apartments with her boy, and the one who was originally in the relationship is slowly ending hers after six years.

And me?

My heart is taken. My body is owned. My mind is cared for so that my heart may continue to give as it needs. I have a dominant. I belong to him.

I just want him to come back…

The trip with his dad is coming up in about a week. I’m hoping that will help quite a bit. He told me he wasn’t even bringing a laptop on this trip and I wanted to do a fucking happy dance. …Maybe between my trip to Boston and his trip cross-country we will slowly become happy again.

Please let things get better…please. I miss him so much.. and I desperately want to get back to Disney someday.

I have to sleep. Smith cracked down on my insomnia tonight and did the dom guilt. “Will you try to sleep for me?” FAAAKKKK. There is no saying no to that when you have subby tendencies -_-. Topple that with Kane going “Take care of my Rena.” and you have a Dom guilttrip sandwich. The body therefore must be shut down from time to time to recoup.

Please, Universe, please be kind. Please make life easier for my Dominant. Please make things easier for me in time.. for us. I like us… I miss us… but I will not push for us. Us will come back when it should.. And in the mean while I do what I can to help, which includes keeping myself emotionally healthy… which is partially thanks to Smith for keeping me from being antisocial turtle woman…

Relationships are hard. Poly relationships can be even harder.

Yours exhausted,

Rena