I went back to the fetish shop yesterday and had the weirdest experience.
The shop owner knows my first name, and I know his, that’s all. Yesterday, we had this conversation:
Steve: I read your blog the other day… *big smile*
Me: [shocked... how is that possible when all he has is my first name?!] Um… what?
Steve: Yeah, I read your blog.
Me: [wizz... whirr... eh?] How did you know it was me?
Steve: You talked about your visit to the store…
Me: Oh yeah…
Steve: But, you didn’t mention the name!
Me: No, I don’t like to give out specifics on my location… crazy people, you know…
He went into the workshop then to put a rivet in my flogger for me. I wandered about the store while waiting, my mind tick-ticking to try and slot the pieces into place and figure out how this happened. I didn’t give him my nickname, I didn’t mention a blog… nothing… how on earth did this happen?
He returned after a while…
Me: How did you find the blog?
Steve: Someone sent me the link.
Me: You mean because they read that story and thought it sounded like you?
Steve: No, people just send me stuff they think is interesting all the time…
Me: [Great that someone thinks my blog is interesting (yay!), but freakily coincidental that it led to being unexpectedly outed in a casual conversation like this] Oh, okay… that must have been weird, to go there and read about yourself?
[BUT NOT AS WEIRD AS THIS IS FOR ME!!]
I’d add that while I was wandering around the store waiting for Steve to come back, two boys from the workshop next door (where they make the leather goods) wandered into the store one by one for no apparent reason that I could see… We exchanged friendly hellos… I swear they were just checking me out as in “She writes that blog…!” Then again, by that stage, I was feeling kind of paranoid about the whole thing so could have imagined that scenario.
Anyway, hi Steve, and thanks again for fixing the flogger. *wave*
Three days to go before I get on the plane to go and see e!
My mind is all over the place, full of things to do, with a background niggle of things I probably should be doing but haven’t thought of yet, and random bursts of light and comets. It is like there are quickfire atoms in there that are all racing around at lightning speed, smashing off the walls and into each other, and I seem to be unable to grasp any of them firmly enough to wrestle them to the ground to get a proper handle on them.
I have a to-do list: I often have those because my memory is appalling, and plus, it makes me feel smug to cross things off it. I am doing okay with it. It includes really mundane chores that just have to be done before I am away for three weeks. Hellishly dull things like doing tax and paying bills. It also includes randomly odd things that I write down and then later don’t understand what they are, like “tabletop”. Also some fun things like “toy check” (see inventory… *smug look*).
In the meantime, my brain is also flitting all over the place with random thoughts about the trip and about e. I am trying to control them for the moment because they are distracting and unproductive. I’m spitting some of them out here, just to get them out of my head.
- We have had what is, to all accounts, a slightly unusual lead up to this meeting given there is travel and cost involved in it. There is obviously a significant investment in the potential of the relationship from both sides, but we are not talking on the phone every day, we do not play remotely, we don’t use IM much. We exchange several emails per day and have periods of quickfire emails *bam bam bam*. When we get on voice (not on a regular schedule), we tend to talk for several hours with topics ranging over anything and everything. But it feels like we are in a kind of ‘holding pattern’ until we meet, each of us not wanting to invest too much, while also being optimistic about it. Normally, I don’t feel that holding-pattern-waiting feeling so much. It is an odd thing, frustrating, and I think, for the first time, I am feeling what some submissive men must feel with me when I refuse to meet them as early as they would like.
- I find all of my submissives online, so I am used to developing these relationships through remote mediums to a certain point before I set up a meeting. I am not one of those who rushes into meeting because I’m really not at all interested in having coffee and chit chat with random men with whom I may have nothing in common. I always take some time to figure out if there is real potential before I will set up a meeting, and I only meet those who I seriously think could be something special. This time, with e, all that is true, but it feels a little different. I can’t quite figure out why that is, but the ‘holding pattern’ thing is part of it. I think, maybe, that I am still very aware that distance became the killer with my last relationship. This time, we have discussed a long term plan (vaguely, but with the agreement that relocation to be together is possible if it’s warranted), but I think my caution from that experience is palpable.
- I intend to have e naked within the first hour of meeting, *before* we have a chance to learn how incompatible we really are. I WILL have beautiful naked man. He knows this. I suspect he thinks I might be kidding. I’m not.
- I think we will clash, I am not sure how or when, but we are both strong minded, outspoken individuals, and we have already had some misunderstandings and the ensuing ‘discussions’. We have proven that we can resolve issues well, which is great, and I am looking forward to seeing how it goes in person. I can picture it going extremely well, or extremely poorly. Obviously I expect and hope for the former, but I WILL have beautiful naked man before I discover that it’s the latter.
- If there’s no chemistry, I will be bummed that I will have three weeks in his city, which is not somewhere I have ever been interested in visiting. I can go elsewhere *from* there, but obviously that involves additional expense that I have not planned for.
- I should really have a backup plan for the above, but that smacks of jinxing it, so I’m not doing it.
- Bonobo-monkey-sex first date… that is still amusing me greatly, I can’t wait.
- This is the first time I have met a potential partner since starting this blog (when I started it, I was already in a relationship), and e will be the first man I have met *because* of this blog. I think there is this assumption that I get propositioned (I mean seriously propositioned, vs getting random wanker emails) constantly and all the time because I have this internet presence. I don’t (why don’t I?! What’s wrong with me?!! Waaaahhhh!!!111). I vaguely wonder how my blog will influence his perception of me. My last boy, who I also met online, said that when he met me, I was exactly as I seemed remotely. That was lovely to me: you know how we present, or think we present, is often mismatched with how others see us <insert psychobabble here>, so knowing that I don’t misrepresent myself (even unintentionally) makes me happy. Having said that, e has already opined that I seem different in voice than in my writing (I have not asked ‘how’ exactly, though another friend offered ‘more bubbly!’, at which I scoffed), so I wonder how the transition to ‘in-person’ will go because now there is so *much* of me out here on the interwebs as input to perception.
- I refuse to get excited about it until Thursday. On Thursday, I will be bouncing off walls and running around squealing and smacking into doors with excitement. But not yet.
My brain has about a billion more thoughts racing around in there, completely useless and distracting, but for now, I am looking at my to-do list and am determined to cross at least another couple of things off it today. ”Tabletop”… what the hell does that even mean?!
… and so, we continue…
“I tell you to kiss my feet once the shoes are off, I am lovely to you. I feel your lips against my skin and tongue lapping at my toes…”
I sit back and close my eyes, occasionally shifting my foot this way or that to offer a certain part to your mouth, pushing up towards your face when you get it just right.
I lean down and pet the top of your head, stroking back to your neck, feeling the tendons in your neck shift as your lips caress my toes, and your tongue swipes slowly across my skin. I apply some pressure, forcing your mouth harder against my foot, and feel you trying to resist so that you can continue to lick me. I push a little harder and feel your lips being squashed against my skin.
“Why have you stopped licking, boy?!”
You try to form words, your mouth forced against my skin. A muffled reply comes out. I press a little harder and feel you try to shift out of the discomfort.
“Do you want to worship my feet or not?!
I feel you try to nod, another mumbled reply filters up to me, it sounds like “Yes Ma’am” uttered underwater.
I sigh. “I guess not then…”
I let you go and your lips stay on my feet as you tell me, ask me, please, yes, you do want to, really, you do. I feel your breath on my skin, your lips moving against me as you talk and kiss my feet, both.
“Kneel up.”
You make a small sound of regret and get quickly up to your knees, look at me, and wait.
I smile at you, and you make a tentative smile back. I pet your cheek and you lean into the touch, close your eyes for a moment, and I take your mouth, forcing it open and shoving into it, biting on your tongue as it enters my mouth, holding your face up to me hard, relentlessly growling into your mouth, the aggression making everything in me fire up, you melt under the onslaught, running into it, leaning up for more. I finally pull away, taking deep breaths, everything humming with tension. I slip the blindfold over your head, adjusting it over your eyes.
“Take your shoes and socks off.”
You awkwardly do as you’re told and then kneel back in position, your hands behind your head. I push your knees apart with my feet, grab the front of your shirt and pull you closer to the couch until your knees are touching it.
I slide down to sit on your thighs, lean back against the couch and undo the buttons of your shirt, touching the skin exposed there. I slip a hand underneath and touch your stomach, up over your ribs, to your chest, raising the shirt with it, fingertips fluttering over your nipples before I pull the shirt over your head. Your arms automatically go up so that I can get it off, a gesture that nearly breaks my heart every time and I am never sure why.
I readjust the blindfold, touching your face, bringing my palm to your lips so that you can kiss it. Applying a little pressure to see how it feels, covering your nostrils, taking your breath for just long enough to feel you tense.
Leaning forward then, shuffling closer in your lap, letting my weight sink into you, rubbing against your hardness through your jeans, wondering if your knees, shins, ankles are starting to feel strained yet. Grabbing at your skin, just to touch it, petting, pinching, clawing, getting in my own way, a hand at your throat to hold your head right there so I can kiss you, soft still, or maybe past that now, starting to bump into you, raising up from your lap to get over you and bear down with my mouth and teeth on yours, wincing at the clash, holding your head still, your blindness making you seem invisible, you are trying to keep your hands locked behind your head while you are being push-pulled this way and that.
I reach between us and fumble at your jeans, a button, a zip, hard to reach them properly from this position, you try to shift to help, leaning back a little. I shove at you and you resist to try and prevent yourself toppling over backwards, but I continue to push, my mouth locked with yours, seeking purchase, my body pushing against you, steamrolling over you, I can feel your abs tensing to try and stop us falling, and still I push at you.
“Ma’am…stop!” You manage to get your hands out behind you to save us both from the fall.
I growl at you, “Fucking hands!”
You let yourself drop back to the floor, controlled, your legs still under you, your hands go back behind your head. I lift up from your thighs and give you room to get your legs out. You sigh in relief at being able to stretch them out.
My hands at your pants, undoing them properly now, the touch making you raise your hips towards me, I take my time, running fingers along the waist of them, the open zip. I grab them as if to pull them down, you lift your arse off the ground to help me. It makes me smile, so I let them go to watch you drop back to the floor. Once or twice, maybe three times. I try not to laugh because then you will know that I am just fucking with you, though you know that anyway.
Jeans slipped off then, I sit back between your legs, spreading them to make room for me. I touch your cock lightly, barely. Different touches, just to see how you react, you can’t see them coming, I watch your skin twitch at each touch. I might ask you if you like that, do you like that? Maybe smacking your cock, pinching the skin, flicking it just under the head to see you flinch. Touches against your inner thighs, your balls, down to your arse, feeling the different textures of your skin.
Leaning forward to make you lick my palm over and again and following it with one hard, wet stroke of your cock from the base, slipping tight and quick up to the head, and maybe again, the start but not the finish of it. Or not. Do you want more of that? Do you?
Shoving your legs up into the air and leaning into you: if I had a cock, I might fuck you this way, shifting hips against you, almost subtle pressure, pushing my knees under your arse to lift it up to me. All of it awkward, you trying to do what you think I want with few cues, and I pinch or smack the parts of you that aren’t going where and how I want them.
Wanting your mouth, but not being able to reach it from here is frustrating. Shoving fingers into it instead, and fucking your mouth with them, hips tight against you, rocking against your arse, pushing into the wetness of your mouth, feeling your tongue trying to lick, pulling out and pushing back in, your gag reflex forces a choking sound from you, your whole body tenses at it, and again into the back of your throat. I tell you how you wish this was my cock, I know you do, don’t you?
I pull fingers out long enough for you to tell me yes, to tell me how you wish my cock was gagging you, the words tumble out quickly before my fingers are back in your mouth again, shutting you up, making you gag again. I wonder if there are tears under the blindfold from the gagging. It makes me mad that I can’t see if there are and I slap you quickly with wet fingers before I spread your spit all over your cock with quick hard rough strokes.
… to be continued…
I haven’t bought new shoes in like… forever! And EVER!!
Yesterday, I ordered two pairs online because I was in a buying frenzy… a frenzy I tell you!! I don’t *really* expect them to fit and be fabulous, but I bought them anyway…
Gorgeous red sandals with buckle features:
And these beautiful neutral strappy heels:
Rest assured that if they fit, photos of me wearing them will be forthcoming…
…I don’t pose perplexities purposely,
This isn’t a game, this isn’t a test…
I like that we argue,
But not everyday…
The way that you say ‘color’ not ‘colour’
Hey you, could you give it a rest
Just take me home, c’mon and get me undressed.
You’re Doin’ It Wrong…!!
YDIW in BDSMers… can be treated and cured through the application of “NO ONE GIVES A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK, ASSHOLE.” It should be applied liberally whenever YDIW flares up.
—Dan Savage
See also “You iz doin’ it wrong“
It is less than two weeks before I will get on the plane to see e.
Someone asked me if I am getting excited yet.
No, not yet.
I hate to wait, and excitement too early means nearly two weeks of waiting, and did I mention that I hate to wait. I hate it. Premature excitement would be frustrating and exhausting. I am preoccupied with practical things… travel insurance, digging out warm clothes, doing ‘pre trip’ organisation.
Though I am not letting excitement peak, I am letting emotions swim about unhindered, they float and compete with each other, shoving and pushing from one side to the other, and I peek in at them from time to time to check what they are telling me, pulling that one into line, loosening the other one a little. They are sharp and spiky and sometimes demand attention.
I plucked one out of the mire the other morning, it was new and persistent, fluttering at my stomach gently like a tiny butterfly. When I isolated it, all pretty and soft, it sat in the palm of my hand, big eyes blinking at me, squinting in the light, a smug half-smile on its tiny face.
Tenderness.
I looked at it for a long time to be sure. It puffed up to show me just how big it could get, I rolled my eyes at it in a ‘yeah, I know’ response that didn’t fool it into silence. It danced on my palm, happy to be there, confident it would be fed and that I would be lost. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it just yet. I willed it away… just wait for a couple of weeks… I know I know, we hate to wait.
It spun about, showing off, and I let it have it’s way. Wave after wave of tenderness so strong it hurt my heart a little. When I had let it have its freedom for long enough, I told it to shut up and I swear it smirked, and finally curled itself compliantly into a little ball and stopped fluttering at me. I put it safely away.
Not yet. Not yet. Just wait, and we will see.
Whispered in my ear
Tom Allen on Check my workouts!
And here's another one: http://www.myfitnesspal.com/ Phone apps, plus fairly standard calorie tracking tools. Forums, friends list, etc. It's mainly a diet/ weight loss...Ferns on Check my workouts!
Thanks for that, Harlequin. I did look up a bunch of sites (including that one) before I decided on Jefit,...Ferns on Domme: Online training
Ugh, shame that the change in routine interrupted your plans. I know what you mean. Congrats on the new job,...Harlequin on Check my workouts!
You should check out http://www.fitocracy.com It's a site for tracking your exercise and earning points and levelling up. It's a really...Tom "Work It" Allen on Domme: Online training
Actually, if you allow youself one (!) tiny little ice cream sandwich after a workout, it's good recovery fuel.