Tag Archives: partners

Day 2

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Day 2
Describe who you might submit to and how. Are you exclusively submissive in marriage or just in the bedroom? Are you submissive only in the context of a scene or in a role or throughout your daily life? Are you submissive to play partners or only in the context of a relationship?

There are those dangerous categories on Fetlife when it comes to the amount of time you spend “involved” with kink. ‘I live the lifestyle when I can’, ’24/7′, ‘bedroom only’, etc. What is the line between ‘I live the lifestyle when I can’ and ’24/7′. It is not as if I am always thinking subby thoughts.. but it takes me almost nothing to get there. It’s a look from James, or his tone, or from other partners I play with.. It is definitely not just a scene or role for me. My submission is part of who I am. I fall into it naturally, without a fight… but I fall into it when signals from a Dominant man are sent.

I’ll give you a for-instance…both are playful, as I am a sassy little sub. James and I will ‘poke’ each other. I mean literally reach out and poke each other with our fingers. Sometimes this devolves into tickles, licks, and playful nips and both of us end up laughing hysterically. Other times he will look at me, suddenly calm, and just go, “Really? Really now? Are you sure?” The moment those words are out of his mouth I’m in sub mode, mentally bracing for the nail about to pierce my skin or the hand about to come down on my chest or thigh. I don’t fight him, I don’t question it..because I don’t want to. Because those words are the trigger that make me want it. I want the sting of warmed, reddened flesh and the feel of his nails digging into me…

It works in text as well as in person, at least for me. I have a play partner in San Mateo that will text me orders from time to time when I’m on the way to see him, simple things like “pick up chocolate on the way and I’ll pay you back” or “park in the space next to mine in the garage.” My automatic response is almost always, “Yes, sir.”

However, only people relatively close to me text me…and have that power to get that response out of me. If someone is a casual play partner that I see only at parties then I’m only submissive to them during our scene at that party. I belong to James. I submit to James whenever it is asked of me.. When it comes to playing with others they have to ask his permission, so it almost feels as if I’m on loan to them for those moments, and then I go back to where I belong.

And on a final note to today’s question: why does the phrase ‘marriage’ have to be used? The idea of getting married right now is terrifying… just saying.

Two questions down, 28 to go.

Yours, as always

-Rena

Uncharted Territory

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I have never fallen asleep in someone’s arms before and actually SLEPT there. I’m so used to the tuck and roll, or snuggle until right before sleep and then get into comfy sleeping positions. Arms fall asleep, legs get tangled. Sleeping in someone’s arms just doesn’t work.

Until it does.

I feel like I need to backtrack. I have been in the scene here in San Francisco for over a year now, and in that year there have been constant figures that are always some part of it. I have not been one of those constants. There have been several month gaps where I pulled away from the scene, from the munches and the people I called friends. Things weren’t right with Kane, or I was focusing on building the relationship with Smith. Or I was off in New Jersey.

Things end. Sometimes you have control over those endings, and sometimes you don’t. Kane is still in my life. I hope he will be for the rest of my life. There are points where we just.. get each other as friends and artists. There is a soul connection there. Smith is no longer in my life. I had no control over this, and I lost someone who could have been a phenomenal friend over miscommunications that were never clarified or explained. I trusted Smith..and it hurt, a lot, it especially hurt my Little side. At the same time Kane was gently nudging me out of my collar, not because I failed him or because I was a bad submissive, but because his life is complicated to say the least. There was room for me to be in his life as his friend, but not as his submissive, and accepting that took some time.

I hid. I licked my wounds. I wallowed. And then I got it into my head that I should go to the Littles munch at the local kink cafe. I hadn’t gone in ages. I wasn’t feeling interested in play just for play’s sake, and my Little side was the most damaged. I thought.. why not? And so I went.

I got bored by the munch in about 10 minutes. I ran out to get food, and that’s when I ran into James.

James is one of the constants I mentioned. Always there, always playing some sort of part, he’s been involved in the Bay Area scene longer than I’ve been here. I’ve been attracted to him since the beginning, but I got involved with Kane so quickly after my mentorship ended and I just wanted to focus on him and my collar and all the bells and whistles attached to it.. James got thrown into the category of “crush”, which, for some reason in my mind makes someone untouchable. He’s safe. I admire from a far, can keep up the friendship, and all is well.

We had played once, at Surrender, but there was something about him that made my heart race..made me afraid. I knew enough about him to know he had his demons. I felt safe when I was around him.. I saw how he looked at a lot of the subby girls around him. Protective. He was always my friend, but he kept me at a a distance just as much as I kept him there. Distance was safe. Distance meant there was some level of detachment.

Somehow, that night at the kink cafe, I ended up on my knees in front of him for a mini scene right there in the cafe. For the first time I enjoyed pain for his pleasure. I reconnected with him, and with other friends that were in his circle that I had lost touch with. I had a community again. He invited me along to an event in the city called Bondage a Go Go that’s half club, half dungeon. I don’t do well in clubs, and I was still jumpy despite the endorphins rushing through me and the beautiful teeth marks I was suddenly sporting on my neck. That first week, I declined.

The second week was much the same as the first, with a mini scene again, just a bit bolder.. and this time I went to BaGG. The week after that I went with the anticipation of his hands on me, of the marks he would leave. I brought clothes for BaGG.

As the weeks progressed, it became more than play. In my shy, awkward way (which can be VERY socially awkward) I got to know him more. There was talking in between slaps, and kissing. And lots of squeaking. I found my crush getting stronger. I listened to whispers that he had a thing for me too. I had taken my collar off, and was adjusting to the nakedness of my neck. I was feeling bold… and did something I had never done before, ever.

I asked him out one night at BaGG. And he actually said yes.

And then I failed at follow up. I didn’t know how to have conversations with him via text. Did he want to hear from me, did he not? I didn’t know. Again, socially awkward as all hell, especially if I’m crushing on someone. He’s been very patience with me, slowly pulling me out of my shell week after week as we spend more time together.

It started with just BaGG every week. And then, week after week, he was at the play parties once a week as well, and I ended up as his plus 1..

I don’t remember how to date, and I’ve never done an out-in-the-open relationship with BDSM undertones. I have no clue what the hell I’m doing..and while I am scared shitless I am also loving every last minute of this strange adventure with James. A lot of his friend are mine.. and we both have kink as one of the main parts of our lives. It is a large part of both of our artistic practices. He pushes me, in so many ways; pushes me to ask for what I want, pushes me to take control and stand on my own two feet, to give but to not be taken advantage of. He pushes me physically, leaving wonderful marks all over my chest, back, thighs, and ass. I have bruises, bites, nail marks, scratches…

I have talked about zinging with someone before, that moment of “Oh shit.” When you make a real connection with someone, that moment always appears when you know you are in trouble. When you realize that something is going to make an impact on you, mean something.

For me that moment was last night. He spent the night, which is a novelty in and of itself to me. I hadn’t spent the night with someone in a good six months, and even that it hadn’t been in my tiny apartment with my cat and my chaos and my ‘single girl in her 20’s’ stuff. As much as we engage in kinky fuckery, we are taking things very slow in a lot of ways. For one, we haven’t had sex yet. We haven’t put labels on anything, haven’t rushed into anything. Building a strong foundation and really exploring is important to both of us. One on one, yes we kiss and play and touch, but we also talk, a lot. Conversations start casual and become deep and meaningful between us very quickly.

We were having one of those conversations last night, the deep and meaningful ones. The evening itself was FANTASTIC. He’s involved in theatre, and he let me tag along to a show he helped out with. By the time we got back to my place it was close to 4 a.m. We were both exhausted thanks to a party the night before at the Citadel that hadn’t seen us home until 5 a.m.. There was no logical reason for us to do anything but stumble into my place and pass out.

Only I didn’t want to. Not in that moment. I didn’t want the conversation to end, didn’t want the magic to go away. I was enjoying myself so much that I didn’t want the night to end. I just wanted to talk more. Learn more. I wanted to peel back more layers of this man. I was so comfortable, and able to be so totally myself with him. I could really care for this man. This could be something special.

Cue “oh fuck” moment. There, unexpected and delayed after a year of knowing this man but not really knowing him, was the Zing. That zaa zaa zoo moment that added a new level of intensity to our interaction, a new level of intimacy that wasn’t quite there before.

Eventually we did go inside. We got ready for bed and kept talking, kept touching, kept kissing. I didn’t expect to sleep in his arms. I never do. Men always do the tuck and roll, or they’ll wait until just before they pass out to move because they have to sleep in a certain position. And yet I was pulled into his arms and held. I can’t quite put into words how.. safe I felt, how secure. How fucking good it felt to be surrounded by an embrace. My last thought of the night was that there was no way this was going to last, that you don’t actually get to sleep in someone’s arms.

I woke up surrounded by warmth and security, as safely anchored in his arms as I had been when I passed out, mind boggled. I have no idea what I’m doing; no idea at all. I could stress. I could over analyze, freak myself out, tell myself all the reasons I shouldn’t pursue this, or want this, or want him or want to explore this uncharted territory of dating. I’m sure I could come up with a good list of reasons as to why this isn’t a good idea.

Instead, I’m going to feel the feels. I’m going to just… smile and enjoy the moment.

I am in uncharted territory, and I am happy.

Yours, as always

-Rena

P.S. on a more comical note, James and Poe had a wonderful conversation where they plotted my demise. I believe James meets with kitty approval. I haven’t decided yet whether this thrills me or terrifies me. Ho boy…

Peace of Mind (In Uncertain Times)

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I love watching Kane paint.

It’s not one of those things that I can put into words as to why, and it’s a hard balance for me between wanting to indulge in the enjoyment and making sure that my watching doesn’t make him uncomfortable. I don’t particularly like people watching me work over my shoulder. But he puts up with me doing it, and so I watch, content to sit quietly while he paints.

He and I are so different in so many ways. He is practical, he is logic. I am emotion, always emotion first. Sometimes that can be a fantastic mix, and sometimes it can be volatile.

It has been over a year now since I’ve started this journey. Over a year since Cal first messaged me and I jumped down the BDSM rabbit hole. Do I regret it?

Kane and I were out to dinner the other night and I mentioned it to him, that I had been in this world for a year. I asked if he thought I had made a mistake in staying in San Francisco.

“Sometimes.” He said. “I feel like you would had been further down your path if you had gone.”

I disagree. I feel as if I would have been further down my path as an artist.. but my work would be going in a very different direction from the turn it has taken. I would be in a city that yes, I enjoy greatly, but that has very few jobs. I would have enough student loan debt to keep me drowning for the next 40 years. I could teach, yes…but at what cost?

I didn’t choose the path he would have. I chose my heart over my head, emotion and need over logic. Do I regret it? No. Not at all. Not a single day.

Submission is a need for me. Even when I didn’t acknowledge it, it was there. I can remember with my very first “real” boyfriend certain key behaviors; for instance, my favorite spot was sitting at his feet while he played video games in his favorite chair. Why? it wasn’t as if I thought less of myself than I did of him. It was just that I enjoyed sitting at his feet. I felt at peace being there. By the time Jason and I split I knew well what I was. I had gotten him to dress me, spank me, claim me, mark me.. I knelt at his feet out of my own choosing, not his. I had Googled these urges to know what it was without Cal having to give it a name.

With how much these behaviors leaked out of me, there was a time limit on how long I could suppress my submissive side. Cal’s first message was just the final excuse to embrace it.

Submitting is the only thing that makes my brain STOP. All other aspects of my life are under control, for once.. Getting them under control have taken some time (hence my absence lately) but I’ve done it. It’s just.. a constant juggling act. And it’s exhausting. The NEED to submit becomes so strong sometimes it’s painful. Spank me. The silent voice inside me screams. Pull my hair. Fuck my mouth. Use my body for your pleasure. Take control and use to me to ease your aches. In doing so, you ease mine. You make the world stop, just for a little while, and I can be. Just be.

There are very few days where I feel as if I do good for Kane.. The other day I got the chance to do so. To aid him, and to help both of us. I am terrified of his rejection, of his frustration. I know I am a trying creature to deal with at times. I try his patience on a regular basis and can tank his mood if I push a subject too hard. The submissive of me is extra conscious about this…because each time I upset him it feels like I’ve failed him. I’m supposed to bring him pleasure and joy, not frustration and grief.

And so, when given the chance to do actual GOOD for him, un-fuckable good, I jumped for joy. Quite literally at one point. And I took a risk. I asked for what I wanted, for a way to aid both of us in sleeping well. I wanted to service him… needed to. I craved submitting to him, giving him pleasure and only pleasure. No grief. No emotions, no outside world or questions. Just service.

And he said yes.

And for just a little while, my brain shut the fuck up and I did good. I pleased him. And it felt so damn fucking good.

I am a submissive. I am not ashamed to crave his touch. A year ago, I would have been. I would have questioned what was wrong with me, that I wanted this man to use me. That my pleasure stemmed from his. That when he hurt me he didn’t harm me. Instead, that his spankings can bring me euphoric bliss.

A year ago I would not have called myself poly. I wouldn’t have even considered the idea of Smith, in fact a year ago a man like Smith who is VERY poly (enough partners to make up a small harem, as much as he disagrees with me) would have broken my heart. Instead, Smith has done so much good for me. He’s shown me how enjoyable poly can actually be, how multiple partners really do allow you to be the best you that you can be. He pulls out the aspects of my submission I still shy away from and has me stare them down, say that I’m not ashamed of them. Instead, he pushes me to embrace them.

He also.. listens. He loves hearing about Kane and I, about our relationship before we (Smith and I) met, about how it is now. What we do together when we are together. How I feel about him. Without Smith I wouldn’t have been brave enough to ask for what I wanted the other night.

I love watching Kane paint, with sure strokes and a steady brush. I don’t know why. When I watch him, I think about my own work. The direction it is going in, the ideas his paintings give me for glazing techniques. As an artist, I admire Kane. On the canvas I see his emotions and his logic, I see his imperfections and his expertise, and part of me understands why I feel at peace when I kneel at his feet. Because for as different as he and I can be, we share a need that overlaps. We both need to create to function.. When we’re not working, we’re not okay. We both gain inspiration from dark desires, he from Dominating, me from submission.

Nothing in either of our lives is easily fixed, and nothing for either of us is certain right now. I don’t know when the day will come where he just doesn’t want me anymore. I’m terrified of that day. Because right now, I don’t need romantic hearts and flowers, or promises or expectations of love. I need use. I need a hand wrapped around my neck and a cock buried in my ass. I need to know that I do good with my service, that for a brief moment in our chaotic lives his brain stops going into overdrive just as mine does, and I bring him pleasure.

Use me. Twist me and turn me as you desire. Fuck me, don’t fuck me. Pull my hair, smack my ass.. because from your pleasure, I gain pleasure. From your release I gain inspiration. I am an artist inspired by my submission. And I refuse to be ashamed of that need. It has been a long fucking year, and I’m sure the next will be just as long, but it has given me a core part of myself and people in my life that understand and accept that part of me.

And a cat. I can’t forget Poe.

Many things in life change. Relationships change. Smith talks about necessary tweaking from time to time… and while my sexual identity may need “tweaking” from time to time, it’s no longer a big taboo question mark. That’s a good feeling.

Yours, as always, a proud subby and a work in progress

-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

Musings and Meetings

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I couldn’t resist the adorable kitten doing a summersault… Especially when the little fluff ball was a ginger. I own one, a ginger fluff ball named Jynx who lives up to her name, and I’ve been missing her lately.

Yesterday I met up with Sir, and to be honest I was exhausted. I had stayed up late the evening before frantically applying for more jobs. The secure job I have is attempting to kill me, at least that’s what it feels like. I went to work at 4 pm without knowing when my shift was ending. After asking, I found out I was there until 10:30. Well.. 10:30 was closing, which turned out to be 11:30, and I got through the day with one half hour break and a ten minute break. I have arthritis in both my knees…

This part, I would get used to. What I won’t get used to is stuff like my earrings being stolen out of my purse (I lost my 5 favorite pairs T.T including a pair of gold hoops my parents bought me when I was fourteen), hearing that anything that happens at work is “our problem” not theirs, and the people around me being treated like crap and screamed at for a little thing like not refilling the Fritos basket at the exact right moment when there’s a line of 50 customers and only three cashiers, and one out of the three can’t handle money because it’s their first day of training.

I needed a drink. A strong one. Sadly, at my apartment there is no alcohol to be found. RAWR.

And so, after a night of rawr, I went and applied to fifty million jobs on Craigslist praying for another to bite so I wouldn’t have to go back to the bad  place that steals earrings.. I was up until about 2, knowing I would end up awake at 9 to shower and make myself okay enough looking for Sir at 10.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I pushed my body too damn hard, again. It’s this time of year for me. Every night, I push myself to the point of shattering. There’s that edge, that razor thin edge, where brilliant things are made. I live on it for about two weeks. Usually, during this time of year I isolate myself. I go into work mode, and come out right before I drop dead. My parents know enough to pull away during that time of year and let me self destruct, then build myself back. I am NEVER in a relationship this time of year, usually by convenience instead of purpose. It’s just how the universe has worked for me, until now.

I was an idiot to try and hide it from Sir, who could tell at breakfast that I was exhausted, and that I wasn’t okay. I blamed it on work the night before, saying how sore I was, which was true..but it’s not just work. it’s this point in the year.

I needed the couple hours alone with him before we met his girlfriend. Needed to brace myself.  I like her, I have said that I think fifty million times at this point, it’s just a huge change from what I’m used to and although I felt comfortable meeting her emotionally I was already on edge due to other things. I decompressed in Sir’s lap for a little bit before we walked over to a cafe to meet her, with Sir giving me a couple worried looks over my physical state along the way.

“You’re terrified” he told me after I met his girlfriend and we hugged. She had gone off to grab herself some coffee and Sir had pulled me back against his side. “You’re absolutely terrified.”

The sad thing is that under normal circumstances I would have been FINE. My big mistake was not in explaining to Sir what this time of year did to me; how bad I actually was. I am not used to sharing that kind of information with anyone, ever. I’ve never needed to. But considering Sir kind of owns my body and I had been abusing the hell out of that body….

It was a newbie mistake.

I had managed to get my mood up with some sugar, and honestly felt incredibly comfortable when we went out to lunch. I am a tiny thing, as I’ve mentioned, and at one point was eyeing a piece of sushi so far across the table that I knew I was going to have to very impolitely reach. Sir chuckled when he saw the uncertainty on my face and said, “That’s okay. We’re all family here.” There was something about him saying that…it made me so happy. It felt right being around Sir, and being around his other partner. I enjoyed it, very much. I want to see her again; maybe have a girls day one of these days. She’s deep in the BDSM community, and has a bubbly personality that I envy.

I’m much more quiet than she is, though Sir has told me her personality is different when the two of them are alone. That doesn’t surprise me in the least. What did surprise me was how well Sir balanced between the two of us. I could see why he was drawn to both of us, and why he wanted both of us in his life. I could also see that he was..happy.

Well, until my mood tanked and he started worrying again.

As I said, it was very much a newbie mistake, what I did. Keeping my physical and emotional state private..why, because I was ashamed? I guess I was. I didn’t want to show cracks in my venire, even though Sir knows they’re there. I don’t like telling him about my physical or emotional weaknesses, even though that is part of our relationship.

Being with Sir means automatically being in a safe place. He has mentioned time and time again that this is “simply one of the services he provides.” I know this. I trust him absolutely. I wouldn’t be making the collar that will soon be locked around my neck if I didn’t trust him absolutely (Yes, I’m making my collar.. I’ll write about that in the next post). So why is it so hard for me to show when I’m hurting, especially when he has very little to do with that hurting? I could understand my mental state if he had caused some harm and I just didn’t want to show him..but it was less that and more that I was emotionally on edge because I was physically a mess. I took up a new job at the wrong time, because I just didn’t want to leave this city. I still don’t, and I have more job interviews to come (including two today), but I told him nothing about this, when I should have been honest with him.

He told me not to fall on my sword about it, but it’s a lesson well learned. Sir cannot properly care for me if he does not have all the information, and I can not properly interact with other partners if I’m so out of sorts and exhausted. With him not knowing or understanding why because I haven’t communicated with him it throws off the whole dynamic, making things much more difficult than they have to be.

You live, you learn. It’s not as if I’ve done this before. I told Sir everything before I went to bed..and was told to go to sleep before midnight (something I rarely do). I did. I plan to do it again tonight to try and recharge my body best I can.

Sir owns me, and because of that I am a reflection of him. I should not work my body to the point of breaking, even if it means I make pretty art things. There are other ways to make art… There has to be..

I suppose it’s time to learn a new system.

Yours in a better state

-Rena