Tag Archives: journey

Times, they are a Changin’

Great gods, how did I let so much time go by without writing? I am so sorry, honestly, both to those that enjoy reading this blog and to myself for cutting off a good source of processing and catharsis.

Obviously, I still live. I still breathe. I still am kinky, and poly, and all my relationships are in tact. Even Ryan and I, despite what my last entry may have led readers to think. We’ve had our bumps. We continue to. But we are still a we.

I have many things to catch you all up on. I have a new partner, a new title (Church of All Words May Queen..there’s a story, I promise. Or more than likely a blog entry all its own), a fiance (also a story/blog entry), a job that I continue to love every day, and still no damn clue what I am doing! WEEEEEEEE. Oh, and I had an Ace at Fusion with me this year. Multiple times, in multiple ways, and I left marks.

I am sitting in my favorite cafe, munching on one of my favorite sandwiches while I wait for James and for BaGG. I’ve struggled with anxiety, mental illness, and the need at timesto take time away from the community I love with everything in it. I’ve questioned my role in it so many times, because if I’m not killing myself being super sub what am I even doing?

And I’m still here. I’m still kinky, a bit more queer than I was at the start of this journey, much more switchy… and ready for more.

I’m going to catch you all up as much as I can, I promise. To start, I would like to write the entry that I needed to read over two years ago.

I am still yours, dear reader.

And I’m back


Day 7


Day 7

Do you accept and/or expect discipline or punishments as a part of your submission? How do you feel about it?

I was never one of those submissives that dreaded submission. I was one of those trouble makers that tried to get rewarded for bad behavior. I still am.

My relationship with pain and punishment is a unique one.. My pain tolerance varies depending on who I’m with and what the setting is. Sometimes I am a real masochist, craving the pain. Sometimes I dread it.

A couple months ago, I went over my friend Chris’s house. We had met up several times in the past, and I admit that I was tardy almost every time to see him. I was a sassy creature that often forgot to call him sir even though we played, and when we played he topped me.. And so, one even when I came over his house he punished me. He had me crawl on to the bed and told me why he was punishing me, said he only punished those he cared about, and proceeded to hit me with his belt. I HATED it. The belt stung. It made me cry. I counted the strokes and was grateful when it was over.. Penance paid, life returned to normal and all was well.

The beauty of punishment is that once it’s done, the issue is dune. All is forgiven, the slate is wiped clean.

My interaction with James… blurs the line between play and punishment. He has yet to really punish me.. and I try very hard not to earn his punishment or his disappointment. However, he is a sadist, and under his hand I am a masochist.. I will do things like mew quietly, kiss his arm, nuzzle him… Nothing warranting real punishment.

He then turns to me and raises an eyebrow, a half smirk on his face.

“Really now?” Usually I will mew quietly, my body slightly shrinking in expectation of the pain that will follow. “You’re sure about that?” Again, I usually mew. I’m never sure. I never can be sure. This is a trick question.

“Well okay then.”

And then the pain starts. A smack on my thigh. Nails digging into my chest or back. Bites. Lots and lots and lots of nibbles. But never enough nibbles. I love nibbles…Mmmmm…

I have a love/hate relationship with pain under Jame’s hand. It hurts, I scream… But I crave it. It’s our dance, the steps familiar and comforting now. Not punishment, per say, but punishment-like behavior and discipline that keeps me happily under his hand.

I accept punishment when I have earned it.. I would rather stand in the corner, go into the ‘apology’ position, get spanked until I bleed, or even wear a fucking ball gag than carry the burden of my Sir’s disappointment, or the disappointment of another friend or partner. Physical pain is much easier for me than emotional… And the truth is that fuck ups happen. As much as submissives try to be perfect for our Dominants, we are human. Humans are flawed. We make mistakes, and we mentally beat the shit out of ourselves because of the mistakes. Because we failed. Because we let the person who we belong to down. We disappointed the person we try more than anything to please. For me, personally, punishment and discipline after the emotional beating I just gave myself is a very sweet release and relief. It makes it all better… Fresh, clean, blank slate. I am a good girl again, willing and eager to serve my Sir.

A whole week down! HA! Twenty three days to go.

Still here, still writing, still yours,


Training Thoughts


Yesterday was an exercise in “distract the pixie”, where I had been so determined to get my damn work done so that I could relax afterward and not stress as much about money.

Ha. Haha. HA.

The good thing that came out of this distraction was coffee with a friend of mine. Squeeks is a switch, and one of my few friends actually really close to my own age. She’s been in the scene even longer than I have, and is actually the reason that James and I ended up close. We’ve been friends for a good while now, but she moved back down to San Jose from San Francisco after graduating from college so I don’t see her nearly as much.

She was going to an event at the kink.com Upper Floor, I was putting off driving in circles. We both had time to kill, so I collected her from the Mission and we went to go catch up.

After much cuddles and a couple spankings to make the people in the coffee shop twitch (tee hee…) she started poking me about my relationship with James. She… kinda continually whopped the two of us upside the head until one of us finally asked the other out, and as I said she’s friends with both of us, so girl gossip happens. And so I smiled, and I giggled, and I sighed a bit, and I talked about being in a healthy relationship for the first time in a long while.. and how difficult it seemed to be for me to wrap my head around the feelings that had started to come up.

We started talking about Kane, and about how much damage he actually did to me keeping me a secret for so long. As much as I loved him, as much as I always will, there is a part of me very angry at him for how ashamed he acted of me. For all that he promised.. he disappointed a lot, and I still have quite a bit of trouble actually saying that certain things were purely his fault.

Casting blame on a Dominant has always been difficult for me, from the start. When something goes wrong my mind goes to “What did I do and how can I fix it?”, which isn’t always how it should be.

“It’s because of how you were trained,” Squeeks told me as we munched on our coffee house treats. “Consciously or subconsciously, you were trained to cast the blame on yourself, when a lot of us were trained the opposite. When my primary was training me he told me, over and over, ‘If something goes wrong it’s on me, not  you. I’m your Dominant, I’m your caretaker, and I’m supposed to have control of your care and your training. If that goes awry it’s on me, not you.’ You seem to always do the opposite. You shrink like you want to disappear or like you’re about to get hit with a newspaper. It’s not something you think about, it’s just something that happens. Your mind and body automatically respond that way.. it makes me sad.”

Honestly? It makes me sad too. I’m not quite sure where that reaction came from.. whether it’s a blender effect from a few bad relationships mushed together or from back in the beginning of this journey with the Cal and girlfriend debacle.. or even more ripple effect from Kane.. But it’s there, built in.

Retraining yourself is not the easiest thing in the world.. All of us have had to do it in different ways, with different behaviors. It took me a good 22 years to look in the mirror at myself and see someone beautiful and not a bloated whale who should be a size 2 looking back. It takes some months to get into a healthy exercise routine and see working out as a good thing to be enjoyed and not a painful struggle. Routines and thought patterns, once set, are extremely hard to shake.

… Like right now.. I’ve been fighting going to work, because it’s not nearly as fun as other things I could do, but I need the money, and coming up with all of my rent in a week is not a fun social experiment with Leather Alley coming up… so…

Time to start making some healthy mental habits. I’m off to work.. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Not that I’m that old… but still.. It’s hard to change mental patterns, but not impossible.

Especially given the right support, and a healthy environment..

Right. Work. Off I go!

Yours, as always