This blog contains, but isn't limited to, graphic sexual horror, BDSM, sex, robots, science, food, rock climbing, bouldering, politics and general bric-a-brac. Not suitable for children under 18. Honestly, probably not suitable for most humans.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Crawling out of BED(2015)

I've been home for over 48 hours now, but my brain is still lingering somewhere in downtown Dallas.  BED2015 occurred last weekend, and, unlike almost all other cons I've ever attended, I finally felt mentally and physically prepared to handle a larger-scale event.  I had established boundaries, voiced my concerns, held my breath and jumped.

Classes went smoothly, play dates I managed to make were fantastic.  No mental breakdowns.  No need for emergency escape plans.  I even potentially made new friends. Me!  I think I met every goal I set for myself, maybe even surpassed my expectations.

Despite dating The Cat for almost a year (or possibly over a year? I am indeed the worst boi-friend), I finally got to tie her.  She was her perfect self, wearing an adorable sailor outfit, her two pig-tail braids slightly askew, her bright red lips always cracked in a beautiful smile.  I remember wanting to smear her lipstick, to see her body strain, and ache for me.  I didn't want to make her cry, but I wanted her to come close to it.  I wanted her to know that if I wanted to, I was fully capable of it.

I, of course, got what I wanted. Sleighbelle was a lot tougher than I had imagined she would be, so I'm exceedingly proud of her.  I'm told I'm not easy on my bottoms, perhaps it's a side effect of having an Owner who isn't easy on me.  She did wonderfully and I'm told that she still gets starry-eyed thinking about my stiletto on her throat.

Surprisingly, I managed to bottom to three other people.  This is a record for me, since I have a lot of fears of consent violations.  The recent surfacing of major violations really didn't help my fear, but after expressing my worries, the internet was like...calm down. and yes, I actually took the advice of the internet.  I must be desperate.

Unexpectedly, I ended up doing a ground tie with FredRx.  We had met in Florida during FIRE (I'm told I had actually met him at BED the year before, but whatever).  Physically speaking, he's EXACTLY what attracted me to Moco, it was a little mind-fucky.  There were plenty of moments where I nearly jumped on his back to bite his neck, thinking he was Moco.  Or knowing he wasn't and was curious as to what his reaction would be.  I imagine he would just throw me to the ground and choke me a bit :) but he would probably have just been really confused, possibly concerned that he may need a rabies shot.

The ground tie was, for lack of a better word, primal.  It reminded me of a lot of rape fantasies I used to have before Moco turned most of them into reality for me.   There was no sugar-y coating, no gentle pretense.  There was no power struggle because I didn't have any and Fred had it all.  and it felt...right.

Somewhere between the face slapping, the fingers down my throat, tears streaming down my face, and this devilish spiked glass ball being plied to my skin, I tried to remember why I was so afraid to play with other people. Could it always be this fun?  Or was it just because FredRx was hitting all the right types of pain and power plays?  The thoughts didn't last long, pain usually gets the better of me and before I knew it, I wasn't thinking at all anymore. 

High on my list of accomplishments was having enough confidence to flirt with Canadian-cowboy, Tho4ns, in person.  I had begun my pseudo-attempts on the internet, most notably #HatWatch2014, last October, when I had met him in Philly for the Twisted Halloween Intensive.  My attraction to him started out from his work, as he's super fucking talented with rope and a camera, but his lean frame and warm smile don't hurt his case, either.  I had no idea how to let him know about my childish crush- he and I have nothing in common besides an unreasonable love for Moco and his jute.  So I was stuck.

Sometime Saturday night, someone was running around the playspace yelling, "THORNS IS GIVING LAP DANCES!".  Finally!  My in that I've been waiting for!  I can work with this! Like a puppy desperate for attention, I went running into the space, only to be let down.  "Sorry, 'Thorns' with an 'R', not 'Thorns' with a '4'" someone told me.  Hopes and expectations, meet the floor.

I became unreasonably angry.  How dare Tho4ns take away my in!  And yes, I know that he didn't actually do anything at this point, but still!  Rage and disappointment don't listen to reason.  So I did the only thing I could think of, I went to the internet and tweeted that Tho4ns owed me a lapdance. 

Poor Tho4ns, he must be concerned that there's a hyper American constantly bothering him via tweets.

Sunday night, after the performances, Moco managed to get Tho4ns, enboldened by just enough alcohol, to give me the dance.  It was brief, maybe less than a minute total, but it was worth it.

A lot of undulating, wanton hip grinding.  A shiny belt buckle centimeters way from my mouth.  I remember fighting the urge to grab him and place a kiss on his belt buckle, but I constantly reminded myself that you must not touch the dancers.  Never touch without permission.

Of course, Moco did what he normally does and told Tho4ns about my ridiculous crush on him.  I don't think he acknowledged it, but he definitely didn't seem disgusted by it, so I take it as a personal victory.

Sometime today, Tho4ns tweeted this to me.  It's made me unreasonably happy.

You really can never un-see that.

Monday, April 20, 2015

BED2015 Wishlist!

BED is right around the corner and I have a wishlist!

  • If you see me and recognize me, please come say hi. I'm horribly awfully shy and anxious at large events and I often hide behind M0co or a group of close friends. I'd like to be able to leave BED this year meeting and having a conversation with at least 5 new people.
  • If we haven't met, please ask to touch me beforehand. Nuff said.
  • If you say hi to M0co, please also say hi to me. 9 times out of 10, people will go out of their way to introduce themselves to M0co and ignore me. I don't think most people are doing it purposefully and, to be fair, I often don't want to interrupt a conversation with the whole, "HI, I AM ALSO HERE. HI." It would mean a lot to me for someone to just to say hi, even if you don't really want to talk to me.
  • Please ask me questions during class! I'm more than just a demo bottom for our classes. If you have questions from the inside the rope perspective (or as a top that tends to be smaller than their bottom) please don't hesitate to ask. I can't help you if you don't ask questions :)
  • I am currently looking to expand my bottoming perspective. I am pretty bad about asking people to play- I think I've asked a few, but if tying me seems like something that wouldn't suck for you, please don't hesitate to ask. Also, if I say no, please respect that. I also like bottoming for things besides rope (!), so if you have other interests, please shoot me a message.
  • As for topping, I am currently only topping those with whom I have a personal relationship. That usually means someone I've met at least once and have conversations with. I just feel safer that way and it allows me to figure out if I am compatible with a person. If you fit into that category, let me know :)

See you guys in BED ;)

Monday, April 13, 2015

The Perfect Suffer

I've never been good at 'faking it', the 'it' being subjective to whatever situation I happen find myself.  I was never big on faking orgasms, I'm often horribly blunt about how I feel about a person much to the chagrin of M0co, my parents, AND my therapist, I don't like playing weird games.  If I'm up during a manic episode, you'll know it.  If I'm trapped in crippling depression, you'll also probably notice it (although in those cases, I do try to fake it until I make it.)

So why should my suffering during play be any different?

Last weekend, M0co and I headed up to Philly again to celebrate the birthday of a friend of ours.  It was a small, quiet little get together, with only one or two familiar faces.  Most of the people there were new to me.  It's kind of fantastic to be able to escape to a place where you aren't forced to work, and yes, almost all play parties have turned into work since M0co LLC'd.  Just a few friends and a few more strangers.

It wasn't an actual play party, but there was a hard point set up, so we decided to take advantage of a rare opportunity to actually play and not feel like we were performing.  So M0co did what he does best: he makes me suffer for him.  It wasn't showy or perfectly executed, but that's how we like it.  We shared a moment of honesty and intimacy, connecting with rope and each other.

Strangely, I get a lot of compliments on my suffering, like I'm doing an exceptional job at being distressed and hurt.  I joke about my 'suffer face' and say something along the lines of, "Thanks! I made it myself!" or I just redirect the compliments somewhere else.  It's always uncomfortable to me when people are praising me for something I'm not intentionally working on.  Or maybe I just really suck at accepting praise, blame my very Asian upbringing where doing exceptionally well is doing your job.

Sometime during all the celebration and complements that night, it finally occurred to me that people can tell when you're faking it in a scene, regardless of how amazing the acting may be.  The over exaggerated sigh, the too perfectly time wince- it's amazing how these things can turn a beautiful playtime into something grotesque.  but it happens all the time.  I blame photography. 100%.

Because how can anyone truly know you're suffering without the absolute perfect image of you pouting, lips curled just so, with your eyes shining with the threat of tears? People are constantly striving for The Perfect Suffer,that they forget to know, suffer.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love photos.  I enjoy setting up photo shoots and I even don't hate photos of myself when taken during play.  I think the problem lies in everyone thinking they NEED to have The Perfect Suffer.  Whether it's to prove their Domliness (hey, everyone does it), or their submissiveliness, everyone's always chasing this perfect image around.  The problem is, in trying to re-create and force The Perfect Suffer, you just get...ashes.

The Perfect Suffer has nothing to do with how your hair falls in a certain way, or the obvious strain in your body.  I think The Perfect Suffer is when you are the most honest with yourself and you let yourself be lost in the moment.

DomWithLens, possibly one of the most talented photographers I know, is a big fan of catching 'moments' as opposed to taking photos from a shoot, and sent me a couple of incredible images.  I'm always excited to see what he's captured and so far, he hasn't let me down.

Photography by DomWithLens
Rope is M0coJute

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Wolves and Snails

"So...I want to make out with you while you're tied up."

I sounded so much more confident than I felt, almost Ricky Spanish-esque.  The thing about it, though, was I semi-already knew that she was going say yes.  and that's not the megalomaniac in me speaking (although, egotistical me is flexing her bro-ceps hard as fuck right now).

Several months prior, last August to be more exact, I had foolishly told M0co that I was attracted to PJ, a girl from the Philly scene who had befriended-slash-become-frighteningly-similar-in-physical-appearance-and-tastes-to IrisEnchanted, the Lairling Queen herself.  I say foolishly because M0co has no filter and no real concern about my embarrassment.  We were doing a Photo shoot with SiRoberto (this one, actually), and in true M0co fashion, he spilled my precious beans all over the place.  Needless to say, I spent the rest of that afternoon being awkward and quiet, both happy and angry that M0co snitched on me.

Two weeks ago, PJ had sent me a text a week prior to Rope Mecca.  It was fairly generic, saying she was happy to see me at x event, and that should was happy to hear that I was attending y function (random: the nerd in me got a lot of enjoyment writing y-function for whatever reason).  Somewhere, peppered in the pleasantries, was a quick one-liner:

and I totally want to make out with you, if you're down

Wait, What? Did I just read that correctly?

After reading and re-reading, and re-reading a third time, I was fairly convinced I had somehow gotten the wrong message (texts are like that sometimes) or maybe 'make-out' had somehow changed meaning within the last...oh, 4 minutes prior to the text.  So I did what any smart robot would do when a beautiful person sends you a hot text.

I sent a goddamn smiley face back, but didn't reference anything about making-out.  Nor did I bring it up ever in the history of evers in future texts with her.  Now would be a good time to queue up Arrested Development:

Ricky Spanish would have been so ashamed by my lack of ovarian fortitude.

So luckily for me PJ wasn't as afraid as I was and mentioned AGAIN (!) in person (!!) that she wanted to make out.  What did I do? I HUGGED HER.  I FUCKING HUGGED HER. and didn't comment.  If I was a sauce, my flavor would definitely have been 'weak'.

There was no mistaking it now.  She was down.  I was down.  Now to make it happen.  I did what any other smart, kinkster would do-mention it the context of doing rope bondage.

It ended up being a really fun time- light-hearted with a lot of laughter, which was nice after over-analyzing one text message for a week.  I sloppily tied her on the couch by a dance pole- she had a stretchy skater style dress on, covered with Cheshire Cats.  We kissed, we bit each other playfully (a game in which I like to call 'Wolf Pack'), which quickly devolved in licking each other (a game in which PJ likes to call 'Snaaaaaaail traaaaaaaail!')

and before I realized it, we were just two happy people, cuddling on a couch, laughing and just...enjoying being around one another.