Mina Button's blog

kink and feminism and stuff…formerly known as Absinthe Cocktail.

Archive for August, 2011

Checking In

Posted in Uncategorized on August 31, 2011 by

One of Garnet’s rules for me, when she first assigned me rules a few weeks ago, is to ask for permission to go to things apart from work and running errands and to check in with her via text message when I’m out and about–to text when I’m leaving the apartment, and when I get to where I’m going, and do the same on my way home.

When I first saw this rule, I was vaguely terrified.  Dr. Asshole, when we were together, didn’t like for me to go out without him.  If he couldn’t go out to a concert or the movies with our friends, he wanted me to stay home so he wouldn’t feel left out.  I stopped going out.  It wasn’t worth the guilt trip.  My friends got tired of never seeing me, and they stopped inviting me places, stopped hanging out with me.  By the end, he didn’t even want me to go anywhere with my parents, and I started faking sick, claiming I had a headache whenever my parents wanted to go out as a family.  This is one of the things abusers do–they isolate you from your support system.

I told Garnet I was worried about this rule.  I thought it would be weird for me, that I would end up staying home all the time for fear that I would ask to go out and be told no.  She explained that it’s not really about her controlling when I go out or who I see, but more about getting me used to asking permission for things.  She assured me that she won’t say no arbitrarily–a no would be a punishment.  I don’t have to ask permission for family stuff, either.

And the checking in?  The other thing I was worried would feel stifling?  It’s actually been a huge comfort to me, especially this past week when I’ve been in the apartment on my own.  It makes me feel cared for, like she’s looking out for me.  The routine of texting her to let her know where I am feels good and safe.

There’s this scared part of me that keeps expecting D/s to somehow resemble abuse.  There are people out there who call what they’re doing D/s when really it is thinly veiled abuse, but I am continuously thrilled by how much Garnet really is looking out for me.  While I may be giving up control in submitting to her, she’s not being controlling, and the difference is hugely tangible to me.  Dr. Asshole isolated me and cut me off and tore me down.  He used guilt and jealousy to keep me scared and off-balance, always worried I was going to do the wrong thing and upset him.  I could never do things right because if he admitted that I had, he would lose some of his power over me.  Garnet encourages me to work on things I want to get better at, to spend time with awesome people and learn from them, and to generally feel better about myself.  The rules and routines make me feel safe, even when I struggle with them.  When I do well, she tells me she loves me and is proud of me.

I sometimes am afraid that some twisted, messed up part of me is trying to recreate my abusive situation by pursuing D/s in relationships.  But when I actually look at this and break it all down, it’s so incredibly obvious that they are such different things.  If anything, I think there was a part of me that always wanted a D/s relationship, and I didn’t get out of the bad situation with Dr. Asshole sooner because I thought it was exciting and romantic at first.  I’m glad I now have the self-awareness to know what I really want, and to be in a relationship with someone as awesome as Garnet, who actually cares about me and wants good things for me.

Garnet has more rules worked out for me, and will hopefully be sending them to me soon.  I have a vague idea what some of them are, but I don’t know all the details yet.  All I really know for certain is that I’m excited to get started.  I want so badly to please her, and I can’t wait to get to work.

Playing Catch-up

Posted in Uncategorized on August 30, 2011 by

So much has happened that I haven’t blogged about.

Going back, way back to before Floating World, more than a month back.  Way back in July, Roderick and I took a night to sit down and renegotiate some things about our relationship.  It was great–we went out and got dessert, then had an incredibly frank, as-explicit-and-specific-as-possible discussion about what we both want out of our relationship together and our interactions with other parties.  I thought, at the time, that we were both satisfied with the results.  I took notes throughout the whole conversation, and later I typed them up and e-mailed copies to both him and Garnet, so that everyone would be on the same page.

And then, just a few days later, after this whole conversation that I thought was going to fix so many things, Roderick did something I’d specifically asked him not to do.  I don’t especially want to go into details, but it was difficult and kind of awful and we almost broke up.  It was still nowhere near as bad as everything was last Fall, but it wasn’t exactly good, either.

Things were starting to even out again last week.  About a month had gone by, and it seemed like things were really going to work out, like things were actually improving instead of just sort of muddling along (and really, all these things sound way bleaker than I actually felt a month and a half, two months ago–everything was fine, it was more than adequate, I was pretty happy most of the time).  Garnet came into the City on Sunday, and I was excited to hang out with her.  Roderick was spending the day working on a project out of town.

Garnet and I were out to dinner when the call came.  Roderick had fallen off a ladder and was in the hospital.  His wrist was maybe broken and he’d hit his head.  I talked to him a few times later in the night, while he was still really out of it from hitting his head.  It was kind of terrifying.  He was far more lucid the next day, but still hurt and cranky and sometimes confused.  I made plans to go up and see him and spent two days spending whatever time I could with him while he slet 18 hours a day, leaving poor Garnet alone in our apartment with no real food.

Things were pretty good when Roderick got hurt.  We were working things out, and spending lots of time kissing and cuddling.  Now I’m still trying to sort out this sudden rearrangement of my priorities–I just want him to be okay and healthy again.

When it became apparent that Hurricane Irene was headed in the direction of New York City, and it seemed like everyone on twitter was panicking, and it turned out my workplace was in Zone B (possibly at risk for storm surge flooding) and work was cancelled and it seemed like I was going to be alone in my apartment, possibly without power, I got extremely nervous.  Garnet offered to let me spend the weekend with her.  I talked to Roderick and he said “Go to Garnet’s!  What are you waiting for?!”  I packed my stuff and got on the next train.

I spent the weekend watching movies and playing board games with Garnet and her family.  We made gummy bear-infused vodka and I gave her foot rubs.  There were also needles and hot wax, but more on those later.  When the worst of the hurricane hit, she and I were asleep, snuggled up in bed.  I slept through a tree falling outside, and the power going out, with her arms around me.

I’m ridiculously lucky to have both of them in my life, two people who care about me so much.

Posted in Uncategorized on August 24, 2011 by

So Garnet came to visit and then Roderick had a medical emergency and he’s more or less fine (though he’s bruised and shaken up and his wrist is broken) and I’m fine and even Garnet is fine despite the fact that I’m a terrible sub and abandoned her in Roderick’s and my apartment for two days with virtually no food.  But it might be a little while before I get back to blogging regularly again.

One from the vaults: Pony Play on “Bones”

Posted in Uncategorized on August 16, 2011 by
This was originally posted at my old, now-abandoned blog under a different pseudonym.  I’m playing with the idea of occasionally re-posting old stuff that I’m especially proud of here, largely because I want to have it all in one place.  Old blog can be found here.  Also, this post contains “Bones” spoilers.  Consider yourself warned.

So…um…for some reason, I decided to watch the pony play episode of “Bones” the other day. It was on Netflix instant, I’d read a brief mention of it at Tiger Beatdown (which is an awesome, awesome, extra double plus awesome feminist blog that you should totally read) and I was bored and casting about for something to do.

For those unfamiliar with it, “Bones” is a police procedural type TV show involving…unsurprisingly…a lady who is a forensic anthropologist and studies bones. And she solves murders by examining the evidence found in/on said bones, with the help of David Boreanaz, whose character’s defining characteristic seems to be that he’s kind of a douche. I’ve tried watching this show a few times, because I love a good police procedural, and mostly have found it boring. But when I heard there was an episode about pony play, well, of course I had to watch it.

Pony play, for those unfamiliar, is a variety of animal-type role play. Since it’s not one of my own, personal kinks, I’m vaguely terrified that if I try to explain it I’ll horribly offend any pony players who happen to stumble across my humble blog. My main exposure to pony play has been in Anne Rice’s erotica, so I’m inclined to take it with a pinch of salt. That, and I really like the snazzy boots.

That pony play was specifically the focus of this episode was kind of beside the point. The pony scenes were very…well…tame. Mostly conventionally attractive dudes (almost all the ponies seemed to be dudes) wearing a huge amount of insanely expensive specialized leather gear being led around by ladies in sexy riding outfits, prancing and making horsey noises. I was pretty disappointed that no one got smacked with a riding crop or pulled one of those little pony carts Anne Rice was always going on about.

But aaanyway, this was the worst example I’ve seen in a while of the “kinky people are freaks and murderers” trope that is constantly infuriating me in my consumption of mysteries and police procedurals. Brennan, our forensic anthropologist heroine, is basically the only cop-type who’s even slightly non-judgmental towards our pony players, but she still comes out with gems like “Fetishism is a way of indulging in sexual activity, without actually engaging emotionally with the other person as a fully formed human being.”* Which, um, even if you’re using the hyper-judgey definition of fetishism that turns up in places like the DSM-IV-TR, is not necessarily a technically accurate definition. She then goes on to talk about “masturbation fetishes,” to which I can only say LOL WUT?

So the show goes on with its unsurprising plotline of “one of these weirdos must be a murderer” and, surprise! One of them is, in fact, the murderer! Just to make it extra, extra hackneyed, it’s the victim’s play partner/toppy person. Because that’s an original plot line.

It’s seriously gotten to the point where I’ve become so desperate to see some sort of TV show where there’s a murder and kinky people are involved and one of them isn’t the murderer that I got really excited about that one episode of one of the innumerable “Law & Order” spinoffs where the domly dom dude turns out to just be a Lord Master Domly Asshole type who nonconsensually smacked the victim with a riding crop and not the guy who followed her out of the party to rape and murder her.

The last straw for me with this episode of “Bones,” though, came at the very end. Douchey special agent David Boreanaz is sitting in a diner-y place having coffee with Brennan, when he unleashes this lovely speech:

Why? I’ll tell you why. Here we are. All of us are basically alone, separate creatures just circling each other. All searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some, they just give up hope because in their mind they’re thinking ‘Oh, there’s nobody out there for me.’ But all of us, we keep trying over, and over again. Why? Because every once in a while, every once in a while, two people meet. And there’s that spark. And yes Bones, he’s handsome. And she’s beautiful. And maybe that’s all they see at first…But making love? Making. Love. That’s when two people become one…Yeah, Bones. A miracle. Those people- role-playing and their fetishes and their little sex games- It’s crappy sex. Well, at least compared to the real thing. *This speech is mostly done as a voice over, played over shots of the other characters interacting with their partners. All the couples shown are 100% heterosexual, which is so full of issues and so angry-making on its own that I could write a whole separate post just on the fact that these are the couples being shown as “right” and “real” and how icky and homophobic that is.

But I seriously couldn’t get past my blinding rage at this show that would not only characterize kinksters as freaks and murderers, but that would end with a speech dismissing all non-heteronormative, non-vanilla sex as “crappy” and not “the real thing.” How dare you, faceless writers of a dumb TV show, tell me that my sex life is crappy!? How dare you dismiss the best relationship I’ve ever had as not being a real connection? The vast majority of the people I know who are into some form of kink are incredibly close, connected, and communicative with their partners. Negotiating issues that come up in kinky, BDSM-y relationships takes tons of effective communication and trust (which is not to say no vanilla people ever communicate or negotiate effectively, just that I think it’s much less the norm to negotiate as much in non-kinky encounters and relationships.) I’m still ragey just writing about this, their explicit condemnation of my own relationship and my friends’ relationships…which makes me think harder about their implied condemnation of non-hetero relationships…which makes me even more ragey! It’s an unending cycle of rage.

[Roderick] didn’t get why I was so angry, why I took it all so personally. I had a hard time explaining, but I’ll try to go into it in more detail about why it always feels so freaking personal when I watch or read stuff like this in another entry.

*Direct quotes are lifted from a transcript of the episode that I found here.

Femme

Posted in Uncategorized on August 14, 2011 by

Before I moved to New York City, I thought I was into fashion.  I did a lot of costume design in school, which got me interested in fashion history, and I love sewing and making clothes.  I didn’t necessarily make a huge effort to be super dressed up and polished every day, but when I wanted to I figured I could put an outfit together.

Then I moved here, and instantly I felt like every time I left my apartment I was not skinny enough, I was incredibly underdressed, and all my clothes were six months out of style.  It was kind of awful.  And working in retail clothing stores only made it worse, making me feel like every other woman in New York understood some secret code that I had not unlocked.  A secret code that, when unlocked, would magically grant manicured nails, perfect hair, and designer jeans.

I’m still struggling with this all the damn time.  One of the things that bothered me most about the problems Roderick and I had  last October was that the other girl was one of those girls who, in my perception, has the code cracked.  Her hair was always perfectly straight, her clothes were cute and stylish without seeming like she was trying too hard, her makeup was always perfect.  The sort of girl who is always entirely, effortlessly feminine.  And it was thinking this way that had me spend at least a month feeling too repulsive to want to take my clothes off where I could see myself.

But the thing is, it’s not actually effortless for anyone.  No one wakes up every morning with their hair and makeup automatically, perfectly done.  It takes some amount of time and effort and skill, and it shouldn’t actually mean anything about anyone’s worth as a person.  Different people are willing and able to put in different amounts of time and effort to put on this femininity thing, and some people may not put it on at all, or may decide to put on something else instead.  And it took me forever to figure out that there’s actually nothing wrong with doing it differently or not doing it at all.  Like anything else, it should be a choice.

The marvelous thing for me, the magical idea of femme as opposed to feminine, is that the idea of being femme recognizes that this is a conscious choice, not a default.  Not every person who identifies as a woman needs to do any particular thing or look any particular way to do so, and that’s just as valid as anything else.  It can be a way to express yourself or a costume you put on or whatever else you want it to be, but it’s something you get to decide for yourself, not something that should be an assumed default.

I realized, while I was working in a somewhat fashion-oriented retail store, that I hate fashion.  Fashion is all about setting up seemingly arbitrary rules that people (especially women) are supposed to follow, and then shaming anyone who doesn’t follow them.  What I actually love is costuming–consciously choosing to put on something that expresses how I’m feeling on any given day, whether I want to be a pin-up or a goth girl or just lazy.  I feel like acknowledging that my own personal brand of femme is a costume I can put on or not, an active choice that I’m making and not a default, that I’m taking so much pressure off myself.

It’s still kind of a fraught issue, though.  I still feel like I’m playing catch-up a lot of the time with my femme skills, and I’m easily frustrated when I mess up my makeup or chip my nail polish, because it can still feel like a failure.  And I feel like being femme certainly doesn’t help with that whole perceived-heterosexuality thing that I’m often annoyed by, nor does it help the not-queer-enough thing.  And I have all this angst while taking what I feel like is kind of the easy way out, being a cis woman who chooses to be femme–a pretty easy to accept identity.

I kind of wish I could go back in time and articulate all this at the job I used to have where I got formally reprimanded for not wearing lip gloss.  But I also kind of wish I could take two or three more years to really figure this all out, because I feel like I’m really only just starting to unravel the tiniest corner of a really huge thing.

The Porn Purge

Posted in Uncategorized on August 10, 2011 by

So my dad was in town for a few days, for work, and he stayed with Roderick and me while he was here.  So of course, this past week-end Roderick and I had to CLEAN ALL THE THINGS and, of course, HIDE ALL THE PORN!

This becomes a more and more involved process every time we have to do it.  There’s a picture somewhere from the last time my parents were coming to visit, of me holding an armload of porn (I use “porn” loosely here…DVDs, written erotica, probably a few how-to books) stacked up to my chin, trying to figure out where to stash it.  It’s difficult, because on the one hand I feel like I shouldn’t have to clean out my bookcase every time my parents come to town, but on the other, I’m terrified of them not speaking to me ever again and (on a slightly less irrational note) I feel like it would freak them out and cross their boundaries if I left a copy of Rough Sex on the coffee table.

The bigger issue at work here is, of course, that I’m leading a double life.  Most of what I do in NYC somehow involves sex or the scene–my job, some of my hobbies, almost all of my friendships.  I may do something really ordinary like, say, go bowling, but a lot of the people I’ll be doing it with are people I know because of a shared interest in kinky sex.  And it gets more and more frustrating as my parents are part of an ever-smaller circle of People Who Don’t Know.  I’m lucky enough to be able to be out to my coworkers, my best friends from high school are both kinksters as well, several people I’ve known since middle school read this blog.  Like, the only people who aren’t in on this are my parents and some, like, second-tier college friends who I’m only nominally in touch with.

I can’t tell them, I’m too scared.  Every time I think I might (even telling them I’m poly is too daunting, and that’s really frustrating when I’m in the new-relationship-energy stage of a relationship and want to shout from the rooftops that I’m in love!) I remember the friends I have who don’t talk to their parents anymore.  And I think of how everyone out there will tell you not to tell your parents things like that!  God, that’s none of their business–would you tell your family your favorite sex positions, too?

So I do the porn purge.  And I have whole week-ends I can’t even talk about.  And I refer to Garnet as “my friend.”  And it’s mostly okay.  Roderick and I will inevitably miss something in the purge, usually something that, hilariously, no one else would ever notice, but that seems horribly obvious to me.  This time, there were two clothespins sitting on the end table…just ordinary clothespins, which could have lots of uses…except that they also had a phrase that included the words “bondage party” stamped on them.

Someday I will have this all figured out, but today is not that day.

Staples

Posted in Uncategorized on August 9, 2011 by
I didn’t get to play in the actual playspace at TFW until Sunday night.  My volunteer shifts (which are a great way to get a discounted price and help out with an event) happened to fall right when most people would be playing.  So Sunday, my one day without a shift, we all went down to the playspace.
We spent a bunch of time hanging out.  I feel like (with the exception of the Pervocracy)  there is not enough writing out there about the amount of just hanging out that goes on between kinky perverts in the public BDSM scene.  This post is not about that, but I hope to write more about it soon.  And after some hanging out, and watching Garnet do some pony stuff, we progressed over to the medical play area.

Roderick had agreed to get stapled because he’s so squicked by needles–surgical staples seemed like a reasonable compromise.  And since there was a quantity of staples that could possibly go to waste if he decided he hated it or couldn’t take any more, it was decided that I would get the leftovers.  I took off my dress and bra and hopped up on the table to wait my turn.

Garnet put staples in Roderick’s back in a sort of spiral-y pattern.  He really liked it, especially when she ran her hand over the staples.  I was sitting up very, very straight in…worried anticipation of it being my turn.  Garnet walked around me, considering where to put the staples, what kind of design she wanted to make on my skin.  She put the first staple in the underside of my breast, and I was surprised by how little it hurt after all that anticipation.  The next staple went in my other breast.

Then she turned her attention to my back.  I’ve mentioned in a recent post how I recently learned that needles can hurt very different amounts when stuck in different body parts.  Unsurprisingly, the same is true of surgical staples.  Since they were going in my back, and I couldn’t see, and the whole memory is a little clouded by the endorphins  that quickly started flowing, all I can really say is that some of the staples hurt a lot and some of them only hurt a medium amount.  The ones in my lower-back/upper-butt area hurt the most, but the highest ones, close to my ribs, hurt a lot, too.  I made noises and tried very, very hard to be very, very still.

When she finished, I had staples running down my back in two parallel lines, with another pair lower than the rest.  Garnet lamented that she didn’t have a ribbon to thread through the staples like corset laces.  Then she pulled out a little disposable scalpel a friend had given her.  She chatted pleasantly with said friend about the relative merits of pulling out surgical staples with a staple remover as opposed to doing it with a blade…like, say, a scalpel.  ”I’ve always  wanted to test the limits of your relationship!” Garnet said gleefully, and went over to Roderick and slid the blade of the scalpel under one of the staples in his back.  She looked at me and asked “How good are you going to be?”

I was completely terrified–keep in mind that intense sensation like, say, surgical staples in your back puts you in a bit of an altered state–and I had tears in my eyes as I begged Garnet not to start pulling out Roderick’s staples with the scalpel.  I think Garnet laughed at my reaction, and she came over to me and said she would pull out my staples that way instead.  One of our friends who was watching suggested she use string and pull all the staples out in quick succession.  ”I think I have some string!” Garnet said, and went to her bag.  She came back and I felt the staples on one side pull against my skin as she prepared to pull them all out, and I cringed and cried and told her I didn’t think I could take it.  She said she was going to do it and asked if I was ready.  I braced myself, and…nothing.  She’d been fucking with me the whole time.  At some point, she also threatened to carve her initial into my arm with the scalpel, but I was so far gone at the point that a) I don’t remember precisely when that happened, and b) I just nodded and said “Okay.”

After the fear play, Garnet once again mentioned how sad it was that she didn’t have any ribbon, and someone said they’d go see if they could find something.  They came back with some neon pink cord, and Garnet started threading it under the staples on my back.  It hurt–the cord pulled at the staples, and it hurt, and it took a long time because the cord kept unraveling.  Again, there were tears in my eyes, but when it was done, everyone exclaimed how pretty it looked.  Garnet went on to play with Roderick a bit, flogging his back with her squid, alternating the leather and rubber ones.

It eventually occurred to me to ask if I could go look at my back, and I got permission and veeeery carefully walked to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror.  It was tricky to walk without pulling at the staples, especially the two in my butt, which (since they were all connected by the laces) pulled at all the other ones.  What I saw in the mirror amazed me.  I don’t really have the best body image.  Regardless of what anyone tells me, regardless even of what I actually see in the mirror, I do not generally think I’m attractive.  But twisting around to look at my back in the mirror, seeing the staples that followed the curve of my waist down to my ass, and the pink cord threaded through them, I felt…beautiful.  Really beautiful, for one of the only times I can really remember.

Garnet took the staples out when I got back, with the staple remover.  It hurt even more than when they went in, and I really cried, the tears finally spilling over.  I kept crying afterwords, I was just so overwhelmed by both the sensation and the emotions.  She swabbed my back with rubbing alcohol and asked if I needed aftercare.  I said I did and she hugged me, asking if this was good crying or bad crying.  I told her it was good crying.  She hugged me and petted me while I sobbed and professed my love for her, feeling like I was going to cry forever.

Eventually I calmed down.  We cleaned up the space, got our things together, and went back to the hotel.  Garnet took the staples out of my breasts (which, again, weirdly didn’t hurt at all) and we went to sleep.

What I Learned at TFW

Posted in Uncategorized on August 4, 2011 by

As I mentioned in my last post, Garnet, Roderick, and I spent this past week-end at The Floating World.  To quote from their site:

The Floating World is three full days of classes, workshops, and panel discussions, alongside a marketplace brimming with toys and clothes to excite and entice. At night, our playspace opens to its full capacity, including special events hosted by our diverse participating groups. In total, The Floating World is a space dedicated to the serious pursuit of understanding, identity, and pleasure — three elements that necessarily go hand in hand.

I had never been to a week-end long event like this before, so of course I was really excited.  And, of course, I learned a lot of unexpected things.  So here is a list of all the things I learned over the course of this event.

1.  I have a lot of really hard work to do, especially of the emotional variety.  This is the main thing I learned in the classes.  If I want to be a decent submissive and not a big mess (currently I am often a big, emotional mess) and be able to effectively serve Garnet, I need to really work on sorting out my motivation and my self-esteem issues.  I also need to seriously work on taking care of myself and breaking the last few bad habits left over from my relationship with Dr. Asshole.  No one wants to be in a relationship with a martyr (except maybe Dr. Asshole himself) and if I can’t manage my own life (by doing things like remembering to eat regularly) how can I possibly manage being trained by Garnet and taking on new things?

2.  I can’t fix it when other people are upset about things that have nothing to do with me.  Though honestly, this is one of those things I’m constantly re-learning.  I hate, hate, hate when people fight around me.  It’s one of the recurring themes of my life–my two childhood best friends fought constantly, my two best friends in high school were sisters, and so on and so forth.  I’ve always felt like it was my job to fix it, to distract everyone by being funny, to smooth things over.  When Roderick and Garnet aren’t getting along (which is sometimes a thing that happens) and it has nothing to do with me, I get really freaked out and upset that I can’t fix it!  I’m working on learning and dealing with the fact that I can’t do anything about it.

3.  I need to get better at packing.  I brought two pairs of shoes and two outfits I didn’t wear the entire time we were there, partly because I was rushing around/tired/the floor was concrete and I didn’t want to do my volunteer shift in heels.  So stuffing my obnoxious wheeled suitcase (wheeled suitcases are so impractical in New York City) full of everything I thought I might want to wear was a pretty awful idea.  My arms have only just stopped being sore from hauling around my stupid suitcase.

4.  Yoga is awesome!  I realize that I am, like, the last New Yorker who had never done yoga before, but I hadn’t.  And Garnet set my class schedule for the week-end and gave me the choice of going to either Yoga for Kinksters or Forced Exercise, and I picked yoga and it was amazing.  I felt awesome afterwords and now I want to do it all the time.

5.  Sometimes after really intense scenes, I cry.  The last few times this happened, I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad crying, and it kind of scared me.  After a scene I had with Garnet (which I will write about soon) I had such completely overwhelming positive feelings that I felt like I was going to cry forever.  And it was okay.

6.   I’m getting my social abilities back!  One of the weirder side effects of the problems Roderick and I have had this past year was my becoming painfully shy and awkward in social situations.  For months, I could barely go out and be around people, and when I did I felt awful and shy and couldn’t talk to people.  But lately, I’ve been more and more comfortable around people.  I still sometimes have a nervous habit of re-telling anecdotes I’ve told before, but I had that before the stuff with Roderick went down.  I may never get rid of that no matter how much it makes me cringe.  But at least I can actually talk to people again and feel somewhat pleasant and amusing.

So yeah…I got seriously so much out of the classes I took, and I’ve realized that this blog may actually become a lot more personal than I’d originally planned as I work on my emotional stuff, and on my relationships.  I have so far to go to be able to be the person I want to be, and while it may not be as interesting as what I’d originally thought this blog would be about, it may be what I actually need to write.

An Interlude with Garnet

Posted in Uncategorized on August 3, 2011 by

So I haven’t posted in a while.  Partly for unpleasant reasons that I will probably write about at a later date, and partly because I was just plain old busy.  Among other things, I spent this past weekend at the Floating World with Garnet and Roderick and some friends.  Soon, I will write a post about all the things I learned at TFW, both from classes and from making stupid mistakes.  But for right now, I will write about the sex.

Saturday, second day of the convention, after lunch everyone else had classes they wanted to take.  Garnet and I ended up alone in the hotel room together, since we both had a free block of time.  Now, the truly ridiculous part here is that I had taken a class that covered, among other things, how to initiate sex (or play) as a submissive.  And I was very turned on and had been very turned on for quite a while, and was kind of desperate for our alone-time to go beyond Doritos and foot rubs (Doritos and foot rubs became one of the recurring themes of the week-end), but I was having serious trouble articulating what I wanted.  Because I am full of fail.  And a hypocrite.

After me dropping some not-so-subtle hints, Garnet pointed out that I could just, y’know, ask for sex.  I looked up at her shyly and said something about being bad at that, despite the class I’d just attended.  She tried to get me to ask, and I bit my finger in what I thought was a seductive manner but probably actually just looked silly.  She tried again, more finger-biting.  She got exasperated with me and went to pick out toys.  ”What hole do I want to fuck you in…?” she mused out loud as she looked at the various dildos and plugs we’d brought between the two of us.  She selected a long, smooth, curvy dildo and asked me which plug I thought I could take.  I picked out the smaller of my plugs (which is still not all that small), and she got harnessed up and told me to take my clothes off.

I was, to be honest, ridiculously turned on.  After a brief discussion of positions, I was laying on my back, with the plug and the tube of lube resting on my stomach.  Garnet asked if I needed a warm up, and I said yes, so she snapped on a glove, lubed up, and slid her finger into my ass.  It felt amazing (like I said, ridiculously turned on) and I wriggled and moaned as she slid in a second finger.  Soon several fingers on her other hand were sliding into my cunt.  She laughed at my reaction to her fingers pushing into me.  ”I’m not even fucking you yet,” she pointed out.

She pulled her fingers out of my ass, lubed up the plug and slid it into place.  We had decided to give missionary position a try, something we hadn’t done before, and it was really deliciously hot watching Garnet as she slid the smooth, silicone cock into me.  Every thrust felt delicious, with the curved tip of the toy either rubbing against my g-spot or pushing deep inside me.

I was squirming and moaning and generally making a spectacle of myself.  ”You can use your vibe any time you want,” Garnet said.  Everything felt so good that I just wanted to keep going for as long as possible…but after a few minutes I asked if she would be mad if I used the vibrator and came really quickly.  She laughed and said no, so I reached for my vibe and, as she pushed into me, stroking me from the inside and just really thoroughly fucking me, I came.  Twice.  And then, as she kept fucking me, pushing against my g-spot, I shuddered and shook and came again.  I never used to have multiple orgasms, and I almost never have them during penetrative sex, so this was an awesome and relatively rare thing.

I collapsed for a few moments, and Garnet cuddled me.  Then she de-harnessed and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.  She gave me permission to take out the plug, and I did.  When I returned, she was getting out her needle play stuff.  She offered me a choice of where the needles would be going, and I asked if she could stick me someplace I couldn’t see them–I’ve discovered that while I really like the way needles feel, I kind of hate to actually see them.  She offered to put them in my back or my ass, and for some reason I picked my ass.

Now, this was only the second time I’ve ever done needle play.  Garnet stuck two needles through the skin right at the top of my left breast a few weeks ago, so I could try it, and I was pleasantly surprised by how exciting it was and how little it hurt.  So I was unprepared for how much it hurt when she pushed the first needle into my right ass cheek.  I seriously don’t know what’s up with my ass, but my right cheek in particular is apparently tough to get a needle into and inexplicably way more painful than the left.  The needles went in way easier on the left side, and once I had needles in each cheek, Garnet got out her new toys–two little floggers that look like squid, one leather and one rubber.

She started to ask me what sort of impact I like and where, but then she remembered the binder–a big binder she put together full of negotiation forms and yes-no-maybe lists.  She looked up the relevant information (I like thuddy impact!) and took the leather squid and started to to flog me with it.  She alternated the leather and rubber squids on my back and butt, occasionally thwacking me right on the spot where the needles pierced my skin.

Between the needles and the floggers, I started to have an unexpected reaction–I got giggly and giddy.  Garnet was hitting the needles in my butt and all I could do was giggle hysterically for a significant chunk of time.  After (jokingly) yelling at me for laughing, she started really going to town on my back and legs with the (much stingier) rubber squid.  It hurt.  It hurt quite a bit.  But after a while I was able to relax into the pain, and it hit that magic point where it registered as tingly and almost-pleasant instead of painful.  Of course, after a little while of this Garnet said I wasn’t making enough hurt-noises and she re-doubled her efforts, hitting me hard with the rubber toy until I was squealing and yelping and eventually gave in and called out “yellow!”

The scene wound down after that.  Garnet took the needles out, and the ones on the right hurt even more coming out than they had going in.  I have a rather spectacular bruise on my right cheek from them.  I got to admire the beginnings of that bruise and how pink my skin was, with little welts all over, from the rubber squid.  I got dressed, putting on a mini skirt so I could show off my welts for as long as they lasted, and we got in the car and went back to the convention center, with me still in a blissful, giddy haze.