Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

New Hottest Thing

When he asks/orders me to lick/suck his tip while he masturbates and his hand smells like me from when he was fingering me moments before. So hot!

I may have to create a ranked list of these in the future. But this one will certainly be near the top for quite awhile.

 

Lock Me Up

A year ago I would have said that the very idea of a chastity belt was off the table. Hard limit, full stop.

Oh the difference a year makes.

In thinking about this topic and why I always shied away from chastity it always came back to the comfort. I just didn’t feel like I would be able to wear any sort of metal device under my clothes at the office or around family. It would be too obvious to me and therefore would be obvious to everyone else. Then there was also the physical comfort of being able to use the bathroom. It just didn’t seem hygienic to me. And coming from a person who regularly refuses to use public bathrooms, hygiene is a thing.

The last several months have brought about a change of heart, however. I’m not shopping online for custom designs just yet, but I am certainly more open to the idea. The issues with work may still exist, but I have seen a lot more styles and options that could be concealed with some regularity. I don’t wear skin-tight clothes that often anyway. And I’m sure the daily wear of any chastity device would come with time. I’ve also talked to people who wear chastity daily and they do not have any health issues that I was concerned about.

I think I’m just starting to look at the possible benefits of being locked up. With Sir struggling with his sex drive, I am wondering if it could be a good idea. If I’m in chastity then he wouldn’t feel any pressure to preform. I’m sure I would struggle for the first few weeks. Is there such a thing as horny/sex withdrawal? But if I could get through that, then I think maybe we could end up in a good place. I could feel my submission and he could process his stress without feeling guilty about my sexual satisfaction.

Obviously when Jack would come to visit, or I would visit him, we could take it off. Maybe I could even give him his own key. I could be sex crazed for a few days and then Sir could lock me up again. We haven’t really talked about playing with other aside from Jack at this point, but it’s not like chastity would prohibit that conversation.

This isn’t a complete thought, and I’m sure I’m forgetting a ton of things which make this a bad idea. Probably the fact that I think it will help with my horniness problem should be a red flag. It does seem like it could be a viable option though. Sir could use me when he wanted, but other than that I would be locked up. Right now if I go more than a few days without an orgasm I’m a cranky mess. With the option of even masturbating taken out of my hands (hehe, see what I did there) maybe I could push through.

So 2017 may see me looking into more chastity options. I haven’t talked to Sir about it, so I’ll be curious to know his opinion when he reads this. As someone who loves sex and craves it often, I didn’t think I would ever warm to the idea of chastity. But restricting sex may be an solution to a problem I didn’t know I had.

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Slut Reviewed

I am a slut. I’m still coming to grips about what that actually means though. ‘Slut’ is a word that was always a negative term. There was no context, even with friends, where the word was used in a positive way. It’s really only been in the last few months that I have come to reexamine the term.

I have been looking at several books into open relationships and polyamory. As part of most of these resources, nearly all authors look at sex as a positive aspect of a relationship. They often also look at sex as being part or a whole basis for a connection. Ruling out the idea that you have to constantly being looking for a ‘one true love’. Sex can be an expression of a connection for 5 minutes, 5 dates, or 5 decades.

The other realization that I’ve come to is that I’m also a slut for an emotional connection. In the past few years I have worked to foster emotional connections with people. I’ve never been great at fleeting friendships. I have few friends, but those I do have are very close. I’ve been that way since I was a kid. Some of those friendships have grown into sexual connections as well (see all of the various California trip posts). The physical passion we share is matched by our emotional connection; which is magical. Other relationships, my twitter boyfriend specifically, have maintained an emotional only relationship. A lot of that is due to distance, but also my respect for his monogamous marriage.

Admitting to myself that I was a slut for sex; can you also be a slut for other things? If that’s the case, I’m also a slut for an emotional connection. I like to know people. I guess with this expanding definition I’m also a slut for fried food, good cider, and bacon. Maybe that’s the biggest revelation of my slutfest over the last year or so. That not only has my definition of slut expanded; but linking it to all part of my life is positive and fulfilling.

Read about others’ experience with their slutfests for this week’s Wicked Wednesday.

 

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Not Kinky Enough

So yesterday a guy found my twitter account. We chatted for a bit. He waited a whole five minutes before sending me a dick pic. This was after he used words like ‘older woman’ and ‘mature’ to describe me. Even though they were mixed in with the words ‘stunning’ and ‘sexy’, he had already lost quite a few points. I’m thirty-one, trying to get me to play sexting games on twitter will not happen by calling me old in the course of our conversation.

But, as we were chatting, I quickly realized that he had not even clicked on the blog. I asked him if he was kinky, what he was into, etc. He avoided the question and then talked about ‘teasing’ me. When he did ask what I was into I struggled to pair it down to a few words.

I’m a submissive. I’m a masochist. I love bondage and impact play. I crave control and a stern master to spoil and train me into his perfect pet.

Those four sentences seem so simple, but explode with complexity in my head. They seem so separate, and yet they are all a part of my kinky nature. The balance of all those pieces is the goal. Not one that I have achieved so far.

Anyway, the kid tried to play the whole, ‘what I want to do to you’ game. I played along for awhile. Until this response came along:

Maybe I’m to kinky for you 🙂

Yep, maybe you are (the misspellings were all him, by the way). I didn’t know it was a competition, but apparently I lost. And considering his description of anal and other sexual activities, I was perfectly happy to lose. Guess I’m just not kinky enough for everyone.

Sometimes Losing is Winning

I hate being bored. Okay, no one probably enjoys boredom. I hate not having anything to do.

I have a list for everything. Lists of chores, of work tasks. And, I include everything on a list. I will include relaxation time and/or activities if I can.

Because of my anal retentive nature I think Sir finds it difficult to give me tasks and chores. At least in a domestic sense. Part of that, I think is that with small children, and both of us working full-time it’s all hands on deck. Occasionally he’ll give me a specific chore that needs done, but that is usually because he is doing something else already. The other part may be because he knows I already know. I have a cleaning list that I made myself. I don’t need to be told that the bathrooms need cleaned.

We tried domestic control with tasks last fall. I had daily, weekly, and monthly tasks on a schedule. I had an application on my phone that was connected to his, so when I checked something off he was notified immediately. It worked for awhile, but we both just lost interest. I would forget to update until the end of the day and he would forget to ask. Tasks wouldn’t get done and there wasn’t follow-through on either of our parts. Motivation crumbled. And considering I often struggle to motivate myself just to get the cleaning done, this did not help.

Sexual or D/s tasks are very different. Tasks or challenges within a scene are generally very hot for both of us. Sir is a big fan of position challenges. Setting me up with all my weight on my clit smashed on a bar. Or holding his towel while he’s in the shower on my tip toes. Some have been successful; some have left me frustrated and upset. Obviously I want to please him, so I take my failures very seriously.

However, it is important for me to remember that often his tasks are set to fail. He wants to see how long I can last or how much I can take. There isn’t a set finish time; it’s just how long I can go. Him watching my struggle is 90% of his enjoyment (I am assuming the 10% is because I’m usually naked).

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Floor Memories

Yesterday the twitter boyfriend and I were talking about how he’s not allowed to sleep naked. I said that sounded awful. A way of control that I guess, if I’m honest, I don’t approve of as it seems more judgmental than supportive. But to each his own; your kink does not have to be my kink and all that.

He reminded me that when we started chatting I was still sleeping on the floor and he always thought that was horrible. I sighed.

I miss the floor. A lot.

The toddler brought the dog bed into the kitchen yesterday afternoon and curled up in it while I baked banana bread. All I could think was how comfortable he looked (and adorable, by the way). Sir saw the look on my face and responded with, “some day”. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I could shake the look. The longing remained.

In the old house we had carpet in the master bedroom; now we have hard wood. I am not even phased. I fold a pile of blankets up every night that our kids throw around the living room wishing I was laying them out on the floor in our room. Letting Sir stretch out for a good sleep while I treasure his approval in allowing me to enjoy the floor.

A hard fuck, a quick suck, and curl up on my mat like the good girl I am.

 

Control Queen

Sometimes I think I crave control so someone else will be responsible for punishing me. I beat myself up. A lot, according to Sir. So the idea that that would be someone else’s job sounds appealing.

The fantasy versus reality of that is what is difficult. Because I hold myself to such a high standard I am often hard on myself. Guilt and self-depreciation are common when I make a mistake. Sir blames my mother for this. I struggle with that as I am almost thirty-one and should have gotten over it by now. I can hardly blame her for everything forever.

However, because I am usually hard on myself, I expect Sir to be also. And those expectations cause problems. When he ‘let’s me off the hook’, or doesn’t come down on me for a mistake I get confused. My head gets mixed signals saying that he doesn’t care enough to punish me or I somehow got away with something I shouldn’t have. Then guilt starts that I shouldn’t question his decisions. I start to wonder if he really wants this responsibility. Am I asking too much? Does asking at all make me less submissive in some way?

The more I reflect on control in general I find myself getting confused. On the one hand, I think I need a very firm hand. Someone to hold me to a high standard and punish/correct the smallest mistake. On the other hand, I always try my best. So a harsh dynamic may just beat me down. Basically taking my self-deprecation and handing it to someone else. Which probably isn’t healthy and definitely would not be fun.

Maybe I need to consider becoming more specific with my desires. In general and with Sir. Maybe Sir and I could work on more strict control during scenes? Harsher punishments and more difficult tasks to complete. Then, in our vanilla lives, less control as part of the dynamic. At least for now. Sir doesn’t know if 24/7 is ever going to be back on the table anyway. So focusing on control in that sense is just a recipe for disaster.

I think I’ve just been so focused on everything else lately that control and my many desires around it have been put on hold. It’s always the first thing to go as stuff often just needs to get done. Pulling up my vanilla big-girl panties and sorting it out just happens. And then Sir being upset at the aftermath of beating myself up usually can’t be helped. Then I just feel worse. Spiraling into a bad mood that I’ve put myself in.

Maybe I just want someone else to blame.

#subfail #justanotherthursday

The Weight of Kink

Sometimes it feels to me like kink is a burden. It is rarely sated; always craving more. Spans of time without it make me cranky and sad. The weight of it sometimes makes me wish I was vanilla. To be happy with occasional missionary position sex and a chest of drawers filled with linens rather than impact toys. Maybe being vanilla would be easier than what me and family has to go through.

I feel the weight of my kink on others too. Sir feels like he has to be more and better all the time. I love him just as he is; I don’t want him to change for me. But kink demands satisfaction. I ignore as much as possible, but eventually I get down. That shouldn’t be his responsibility to fix. If I could just be happy with what he wants then our relationship would be smoother on every level.

Also, in a weird way, my parents and vanilla friends are affected. They can tell that I’m different, but they don’t know why. They ask if I’m writing and I fake an answer. I want to be able to say, ‘yes, everyday, and I have a blog’. But that’s not really an option. I can’t tell them that I’m riding high after a great scene or that I’m bummed after disappointing Sir. My mood swings have increased since we stopped 24/7. And while I have been able to blame the move and job search in the past, I am running out of viable excuses. When they notice and I can’t tell them the truth I feel awful.

I can’t get out from under the weight of it sometimes. Often, I don’t want to. I love BDSM and what it has given me. I love each of my current kinks and all the things I have yet to try. But when I see it negatively impacting other people, it hurts. I don’t want my lifestyle to hurt or make things harder for anyone. And when it does I wonder if my happiness is worth it.

Walking away isn’t that easy though. It’s more of a Pandora’s box kind of deal. You don’t just get to shove those thoughts and feelings away and pretend it never happened. At least that’s not an option that I have. You may be able to push them down, but you still have to carry that weight. It’s still a part of you; you are just choosing to ignore it.

I don’t think I could do it. I would just stare at that box that held all my deepest desires and wonder. What’s the point of living half a life? Even if it’s not always perfect. Even if sometimes the weight is too much and I get frustrated by it. At least I am living a full life as me. I am being as honest and open as I can be.

That is the only way the weight will lessen and I will grow. Until, eventually, the box will disappear and only the truest version of myself will remain.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Biased Support

So my Twitter Boyfriend had a ‘conversation’ with this wife. And by conversation, I mean that their talk ended with an ultimatum that he has to choose between kink or their marriage. My heart broke for him when he told me. I know that this is what he feared. His exploration into kink was headed in this direction, but I certainly wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon.

He and I are very close. Despite my post yesterday and my being bummed that I’m not his pet anymore, he’s still very much an important part of my life. The other night he admitted that I know more about him than anyone except his wife (more than his wife in some cases). That meant so much to me. And the idea that that could be ending hurts. But I certainly cannot judge him. He’s in a impossible position that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, much less a dear friend.

He can choose kink, which means he leaves. He can openly search out kink relationships and explore the online community. He wouldn’t have to worry about how she feels about his desires. There wouldn’t be any guilt in his actions. He would be allowed to be himself.

But that doesn’t come without consequences. There is no guarantee that he would find a person who shares his desires and kinks. We still live half a world apart.  And he would be walking away from the longest relationship he has ever had. They have children together (albeit grown). It’s not something that’s easy to dismiss.

If he decides that the risk isn’t worth the reward, he chooses the relationship. He stays with his wife and they continue together. However, there is no kink. No online presence, no in-person meetings, no discussion of desires or fantasies. And (obviously most important to me), we can’t talk anymore. I believe that to mean everything. No Skyping, no Twitter, no email. He couldn’t read my blog or have any relationship with me as I represent something he should be avoiding.

He would be giving up kink, the idea of kink, everything. Voicing his desires and talking to her about trying things, let alone talking to anyone else, would be out of the question. I couldn’t offer support or help in any way as he deals with it either.  A portion of who he is would be shut down.

I’ll admit I’m having a hard time being unbiased. I can’t imagine being put in that position. Being told to choose between a person you care about or your own happiness. And that is grossly oversimplified. I just can’t imagine being told that I had to give up kink. At this point I see it as my sexual orientation, to walk away from that would be living a lie.

I’m trying to help with perspective. I would never tell him what to do. Even rooting for kink has me encouraging a man to end his marriage. That idea turns my stomach. But I also want him to be happy. So I’ve taken a step back for a bit to allow him to think things through. I will be nonjudgmental support, no matter what.