Tag Archives: work

Picking Up the Pieces


Hello, my loves. I am so sorry I almost let January go by without an entry.

But I have yet to miss a month..and dammit I won’t let it slip by without an entry.

The last month has been.. difficult to say the least. Since I got back to California I’ve been picking up the pieces of my life as my Master has been doing the same. I’ll be moving incredibly soon, I’ve started a new job, and I have a car to get around.

At the same time the time with the car is limited. It has too many mechanical problems and can’t pass smog.. so I’ve got about 65 days to make up enough money for a new car. The new job is dependent on a vehicle..and I’ve been so sick lately that typing, no matter writing, has been difficult.

I’ve been battling a viral sinus infection for over two weeks now..it took me over a week to figure out what it actually was. I just got proper meds yesterday and will hopefully be feeling better soon. I have to pack. Frantically. Maniacally. And I’ve barely been able to move.

At the same time I’ve been ACHING to play. I’ve gotten quite a bit of time with Master lately… I’ve gotten to be his ride to a few events and of course see him every week at BaGG. But so many events he is working. He was sick for a while when I was well and wasn’t up to playing..and now the shoe is on the other foot. My body is tired and needs time to heal but godde do I want to be under his hand.

I’ve watched him struggle… with things I can’t necessarily help with. It’s hard. Your natural instinct as a slave is to want to serve. To give all you can. To fix things for your Master when they are broken. I can’t do that right now. I can only watch and support and fix my own life best I can.

You cannot pour from an empty cup… My cup was not only empty for a time but it almost shattered. Not from Master.. and not from my other partner either.. but from the rest of the world. From money and work and illness and the universe seeming to continually push me. From my grandfather passing away and my Master’s car dying so soon after mine did.

I have been blessed. Very blessed. My relationships, both with my Master and with the man I call sir, are good. And strong, And such a comfort when the world feels like it’s trying to destroy me.

Chris is so much more financially put together than I will ever be.. His support and help has kept me going in a lot of ways. He’s sat me down and helped me financially plan, showed me next steps in how to survive. How to really pick up the pieces and keep going..because when he was my age he was exactly where I was.

I am picking up my pieces, slowly but surely..and keeping the parts of my life that matter in tact as much as I can. I will be okay..Master will be okay.

We will all find a way to pick up the pieces and keep going in 2016.

As always, I am still yours



Please (A Request for Help)

A long time ago, I called myself an artist. My life was in the studio, covered in clay and content. The demons in my mind were quiet because I could express them through my hands. I was content. I was at peace. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Life gets in the way of artist dreams a lot. Student loans soon took priority over studio nights, rent payments becoming more important than food, no matter art supplies..

There are few people that I know that are brave enough to put their artist dreams first and try to live off of what they do.. and few people more talented than the stubborn brute I’m writing about now.

I have seen Michael go days without food in order to put gas in his tank so that he could drive to San Francisco from Napa (where he lives) for a shoot. He shoots at Bondage-a-Go-Go, an event at a club in San Francisco, every week where he will take any pictures anyone asks for, put them up for public use..and doesn’t get paid. He runs on tips for both that and Sinner’s Sanctum, a once-a-month club event in the North Bay. You can also find him shooting at parties at San Francisco’s Citadel, where debauchery is much encouraged..and also tips. Because, again, he doesn’t get paid for what he does.

The man goes above and beyond because he loves what he does. He stays up..and up…and up… putting social life and sleep on hold to edit shoots that have priority (even if it’s for trade and not for pay). He will overdraft his bank account to acquire the proper props requested for shoots, will spend days scouting for the perfect locations, and will put his body at risk (and often push it too far..stubborn bull) to get the perfect shots required.

In summary, the man is damn dedicated to what he does, often to the detriment of his own health, because he loves what he does that much. He doesn’t have much in the way of formal training, but he has what can’t be taught. A good eye and heck of a lot of drive… He reminds me what it’s like to love what you do so much that you live for it, that of course it comes before everything else.

Life gets in the way for people, even people as driven as Michael.. Maybe especially people as driven as him. And so I’m writing here, telling you what this man will go through to do what he loves, and saying that he needs our help and support. This talented man is in a bind, and knowing him he’s doing everything he can to get himself out of it. This means minimal food, driving only when he has to…because gas is an expensive thing…and just planning, and thinking and plotting. Setting up the next shoot. Seeing how on earth he can make what he needs to make the next shoot possible…

Help comes in the form of us, internet peoples. I get that everyone is pinching their purse strings right now. I know this well, and have been doing it myself to a scary degree… But finding someone this damn dedicated to what he does in this day and age is rare.

Please, check out his work: http://www.michaelsundinphotography.com/

…and even more please, check out his gofundme: https://www.gofundme.com/5xkee8

He’s trying to get together $400 more dollars for a photoshoot that would do damn good for his business.. One he’s not getting paid for, but he’s doing for the clients to make them super comfortable before any sort of big paid shoot. I know we’re all pinching pennies.. I’m having to do it to a scary degree myself. This is one of those “anything helps” situations..where that spare $10 would make a huge difference.

If you can, please help support someone who’s a heck of a lot braver than me.

Thanks for your time. Normally scheduled kinky fuckery will resume shortly


Day 8


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.



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,




Yes, I do, I believe
That one day I will be where I was
Right there, right next to you
And it’s hard, the days just seem so dark
The moon, the stars are nothing without you

Your touch, your skin,
Where do I begin?
No words can explain the way I’m missing you
Deny this emptiness, this hole that I’m inside
These tears, they tell their own story

You told me not to cry when you were gone
But the feeling’s overwhelming, it’s much too strong

Can I lay by your side, next to you, you
And make sure you’re alright?
I’ll take care of you,
And I don’t want to be here if I can’t be with you tonight

EVERY time I hear this Sam Smith song I think of Kane. I miss him.

It’s not as if he isn’t in my life. He is.. and I see him making a huge effort lately to give me time with him. That means so much right now. The man is going through absolute hell and still manages to leave a place beside him for me… He can’t be an acting Dom for me right now…and I despeately miss that…but it leaks out in other ways. In the way he treats me in the lovely mundane world. He watches out for me still..cares for me still even while he’s trying to keep the pieces of his life together. I beyond admire, adore, and love this man.. I am lucky to still wear his collar.

Yes, I’m still alive.. I’m chugging along in a chaotic world. Right now my world lacks kink and revolves around the almighty dollar. I can’t remember the last time I had sex… I’ve passed that phase of wanting to fuck just to fuck. It’s not going to be gratifying or cathartic. It will just make me feel disloyal to those I’m intimately,  emotionally involved with.

Valentines day weekend was.. unique for me. It has beome habit for me that when Kane needs time and space I reach out for Smith. I am lucky in that I seem to surround myself with men who have the patience of saints. Since we met in November Smith has heard me whine, and cry, and whimper, and beg.. and for some reason is still in contact with me. He is this giant safety bubble for me… He has a primary. Emotionally, I have a primary. The main spot is filled. We both identify as poly..and because the big spot is already claimed for both of us there’s no pressure. There’s just this lovely exploration of figuring out where this will go with us.

Valentines Day weekend was the first time he was out of reach the same time that Kane was. Both were equally unreachable. Both needed space during a time when hearts, flowers, and romance are all shoved down my throat left and right. I spent a good month glaring at stuffies and chocolate, knowing I would be alone on that day, mentally bracing for it.

What startled me was not the loneliness, but how I dealt with it. That it seems to have become this normal state of existance for me. I acknowledge the ache, the missing of these constant anchors in my life. Talking to Kane and Smith is part of my daily routine. The ache doesn’t stop me though.. it doesn’t wake the Sleeping Man. If anything I was over productive while they were gone, determined to get my shit together to make them proud.

Money sucks right now. Student loans are relentless and I don’t have much of a life. I’m not drowning. I’m just going. And going. And going. Keeping my head above water..and I’m pretty proud that I can finally pick up my own pieces. It’s just a lot of pieces to juggle. Down time can no longer exist.. I get one day a week when I’m not working and my work days are 10 hour days.

I can do this. I can do this. I tell myelf this over and over. I will not drop the ball. I will not hold the ball. I will endure.

Kink, or the idea of it, has become my reward for hard work. When I’m stressed shitless I make lists, attempt to get scattered thoughts in order. I write down when payments are due and how much. When I need how much money by. Marking when I will need to haul ass. And when I do it, when I get everything done and I go home to Poe at the end of the day, I look at my reward listand see what I can obtain first.

The entire list is kinky..the beginnings of a personal toy kit that I can guarantee will be kept safe and be used just on me. The items range from a new flogger with the weight and bite that I crave to a new rainbow tail, to an Alyson Tyler novel I’ve wanted to read for months. Some of the items will take a long time for me to afford… because there is a mundane list of needs. Groceries. A new laptop (yup. Still haven’t replaced my stolen one. Typing on my tablet at the moment). A flight home to see my little sister’s play in March.

I can do it. I can do it. Endure. Just endure. Just keep going… Make them proud. Make myself proud.

I am Rena. and I am still here.

Musings and Meetings




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