The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #95 Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
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#7 – Do you accept and/or expect discipline or punishments as a part of your submission? How do you feel about it?
I think that even the most well-intentioned submissive will occasionally need corrected. I have been known to brat if I feel ignored. And I have found that a punishment is often the best thing for me. It’s the level and intensity of punishments that can create issues.
I take a lot of things personally. So while I respond well to physical punishments, being yelled at is another thing all together. I’m not sure why, but yelling just makes me cry like a scolded toddler. There was a time I remember when my husband and I were still working on our D/s relationship and one day in the car he hold me to ‘shut up’. I retreated immediately and didn’t speak for the rest of the night. I think I may have even cried on the way home. The thing is, I’m not sure what he was even upset about, so I didn’t really learn anything from the experience. All I remember is how upset I was.
A spanking goes a mile further than a time out or being yelled at. I will remember the time and effort you took to show much your disappointment and what you expect from me. Ignoring me is the worst possible punishment for me. I just get sad and withdraw more. While I will remember that I disappointed you, I won’t remember how or why. All that I will take away is that I’m lonely.
The idea of punishments are actually positive things for me. It’s the care of my dominant to want to correct me. To want me to be better. He could just let me be disappointing to him, or allow a sub-par performance to slip by. The time and effort shows that they care.
The understanding that I want to be my best for him is almost as much his responsibility as it is mine. That can be a hard thing for dominants to grasp. I can imagine that it would be difficult to balance care and correction as a dom.
Check out my other answers for Define Your Kink as I try to figure out what kind of submissive I am and what I need.
I got mother’s day oral last night. It sort of felt like a birthday blow job that wive’s who hate oral give their husband’s under duress. I hate to say that, but that’s really how it felt.
He used to love giving me oral. He would want to continue after all the nerves in my clit were screaming. I would roll away in a giddy puddle and he would almost look hurt that he had to stop. That is all gone.
And I hate that it bothers me. It was all I could think about and it kept me from even enjoying what was happening. It was the first time he had touched me in any sort of sexual way in weeks and all I could think about was that he was only doing it because it was Mother’s day.
My birthday is in August. Maybe I can sort my shit out by then.
Well, this Mental Health Awareness Month is one for the journal pages. It appears that my identity crisis on Saturday was just the beginning of a miserable week. It’s only Tuesday and I’ve already had two mental breakdowns. Uncontrollable crying and the urge to close out everything BDSM-related in my life in an instant.
This job promotion could be wonderful. It could also be a lot of stress. I guess even more so if I don’t get it and the complete lack of confidence from my superiors would be difficult to bare. And while it’s been a nice distraction from my regular life and money stress, it’s not making any of the other disappear.
I’m just tired of saying ‘when things calm down’. I keep waiting for things to resolve themselves and to begin to make sense, but they don’t. Money is still tight, my neck still feels naked, and I’m still lost. I keep telling myself that things will sort themselves out soon, but I’m beginning to question that.
I think for me this happened last summer. I decided to go back to work full time and actually began to enjoy my job. It’s stressful, but normally I can handle that. But while that was going okay, everything else exploded. Things started falling apart with the house, costing more money, which started that stress. My husband’s job got messy. And, above all for me, our D/s dynamic completely disappeared. Ever since taking my collar off earlier this year I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of things.
I think one of the biggest attractions to submission for me is the idea of having a direction. Of know what is expected of me and what I need to be doing. I don’t remember feeling this directionless before I found kink, but now that I’m without it, it’s glaring. Maybe that’s too much pressure to put on another person; maybe that’s why it didn’t work out last time. I just don’t want to be responsible for everyone’s happiness while ignoring my own all the time. Submission was chance to be cared for for awhile.
I’ve been on this journey of submission since 2013. And last Saturday I had a serious discussion with my husband and my dom about stopping everything. Close down the blog, deactivate my twitter account, stop playing like I know what I’m talking about.
Maybe if I were to just focus on my job and my family. If I let my sex drive wane and move on. Will this pain fade? If I ignore the pain of my absent collar could I be happy. Is my vanilla life enough to distract my BDSM cravings?
It would hurt like crazy to lose my small strings of submission. Losing my connections to the BDSM community would be difficult too. Everyone on the kinky/sex blogger web is so nice and supportive. I’m just afraid that I don’t really have anything to offer more than whining and unfulfilled fantasies. And I would have to decide if I was going to try and keep my poly relationships going (losing Jack too may be too much). But as finances are always tight and he’s three time zones away, maybe that would be in his best interests too.
My dom has asked me to wait and reflect a few days before I make any drastic decisions. He had a few ideas and things for me to consider; which I really appreciate. I just feel so lost all the time. Writing is hard as I feel like a fraud with this blog. I’m not collared. I call this a sex blog and I have less sex now than when I was vanilla.
I just wonder if faking this attempt at a kinky life is better than than the pain of pretending like it’s not part of who I am. Either way I’ll always have my ‘good girl’ tattoo; even if no one ever says it.
I have a theory that your sex drive is a bit like grant funding. If you don’t use it, next year they’ll give you less. For those not from the United States or those who may not know the Federal Grant Funding system, let me explain. When you apply for grant funds, you have to estimate costs for everything you intend to do. However, if you end up spending less than what they give you, when you re-apply the next year, they will give you less. They assume you don’t know how to estimate after that and undercut you. And, once your budget has been cut, it’s very hard to justify more again.
So, what if your sex drive is just like government funding? If you don’t use it properly you slowly lose it. Slowly getting less and less every year until it completely disappears.
My personal experience has been strangely both in favor and against this theory. When I was vanilla I had no sex drive, or one hardly worth measuring. I guess it doesn’t really disprove the theory as I was starting at nearly zero. The sex drive government had nothing to take away. Then I found kink. My sex drive went into overdrive. Since embracing my submissive side I have craved sex daily, usually multiple times a day. Given the chance, I would love to just be locked up in a hotel room for a few days with the occasional food and sleep break.
Lately, however, my sex drive has started to slow. My husband’s depressive slump has killed his interest in sex. I have tried to take care of things myself, but I find myself losing the plot as other things continue to take priority. At the end of the day I think about how I could have found time for more sexy times, but by then it’s usually too late.
So, as we enter into Masturbation Month, all our priorities need to re-focus. Obviously quality should always take precedent over quantity, but taking the time is equally important. Just think about if past performance were responsible for your sex drive in the future? Don’t let an allergy or work stress have a long-term affect on your attempts of lovely orgasms.
Give your current self and your future self all the lovely ‘O’ faces you deserve this month. I’ll be glad to help where I can to keep you from losing funds next month 🙂
Or probably more accurately titled: My ineptitude causes my own pain.
So for those not following along (no judgment, I can hardly keep this mess straight from day to day), I got my nipples pierced last year. This fall they had healed enough that I took out the barbells that were a bit too big and put in black rings. I wasn’t a huge fan of them when I bought them and they never really grew on me. While I got the piercings for my husband, I wanted them to at least look cute. And the black rings were way too drab for me. As often as I try to show off my breasts, I want them to look nice.
So as I embark on this new form of D/s with a new Sir, I wanted to try a fresh start. We aren’t at a place of collars just yet, but I really wanted his opinion on this new jewelry. During one of our conversations I sent him a few links to some designs and we both agreed that the heart keys were the cutest. My husband was on board and bought them last week. I was so excited when they arrived. I ended up getting pissy with the kids as they wouldn’t go to bed fast enough. Finally they remained in their rooms long enough for me to call it a win; if they got up now it was their own therapy bill.
In my eagerness to get them switched I grabbed the ball on one of the rings and began to unscrew it. That was the easiest and last pain-free moment of the evening. With the ball released I attempted to pull the ring free from my nipple. It caught several times and pinched like a bitch before I got it out. I looked at my husband with the realization that this was not going to be the fun, quick process I had hoped for. It faded even more when I tried to put the new post in. I couldn’t get it to go in, not even a little bit. It was catching on something, and whatever that something was, it hurt a lot.
After struggling for a few minutes I had to stop. I was tearing up and it was getting too hard to see. My husband attempted to intervene at this point, which was sweet. It didn’t actually help and it hurt even worse, but I appreciated him rubbing my arm while he did it. After a bit more whimpering we stopped for a break.
He had a good idea to try and use lube to help, which turned out to be the answer. I got the first key in place and quickly twisted the end on. It pinched my already sore nipple, but I didn’t care. I was so worried that I wasn’t going to be able to get in place. With no where to turn at that time of night, I was worried that my piercing would close up. As panic set in and the pain of the first nipple worsened, I decided to forgo the second.
My husband brought up an ice pack for my sore nipple. He suggested I go to the tattoo parlor in town after work the next day to see if they could help me get the other post in place. And we were both concerned at the amount of pinching that the first was causing me. I was awake most of the night. The random pangs and pinches kept waking me up and keeping me from any kind of restful sleep.
Work the next day was torture. I was writing to my Sir how the pain would occasionally turn to arousal (not that that was a good thing at work), but it didn’t last long. The soreness in my right breast was intense. I was starting to worry that my ham-fisted actions the night before had left my piercing infected. I felt so stupid for buying jewelry online and worried that I had just wasted money (of our very tight budget) buying something that I couldn’t even use.
I tried not to look too defeated as I walked into the tattoo parlor after leaving the office. The woman who does their piercings there is super nice. I explained my predicament and she immediately waved me back to her station. With a simple, “We’ll get you fixed up”, she did. Apparently my bars were too short and that is what was causing the pinching. So she modified my pretty jewelry by simply switching out the bar with a longer one. Then she gave me tips on how to remove my jewelry more carefully and put it in without all the pain (lube was the key; my husband was on the right track).
It took less than ten minutes and my boobs looked amazing and the soreness was nearly gone. I wanted to give her a hug, but went for a big tip instead. Waking up this morning, after sleeping much better, the pain was completely gone.
Hopefully I will get a chance to take the Sinful Sunday photo that I want tonight and you will get to see my cuteness properly. If not, the quick shots I took for twitter will have to do for now. But as panicky and painful as the other night was, I did learn a lot.
Lube is always the answer, for everything.
I’ll get a million more tattoos before I get anything else pierced.
Y’all are going to be seeing a lot of my boobs over the next few months, cause they look damn cute with these keys.
Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA. I honestly have a few different posts started and just need to find some quiet time to finish them.
Last night my mother called to tell me that a dog was hit in front of our farm house last night. Just like our dog that was hit five years ago. I tried my best to hold it together on the phone with her, but I collasped as soon as I hung up. It triggered everything with my PTSD. I haven’t had an episode like that in years. But I couldn’t stop shaking. I was really looking forward to a cider after dinner, but I couldn’t stomach it.
My husband was wonderful. He held me and let me cry. We curled up with the kids and watched a movie. It was nice to just be able to sit quietly. Though I’ll admit it was difficult to focus on much.
We have people coming over for dinner tonight, so not sure when I will get to write ‘for real’. Maybe the extra time will help me make sense of all my thoughts. Fingers crossed you won’t get another rambling mess of a post like this one. Anyone know with any type of mental illness knows that sometimes you just don’t have any control and you just have to ride the wave. I really wasn’t prepared for this wave, so we’ll see how it goes.
“See you soon, Sir. I’m just climbing on the train now.”
“Okay. I’m going into a meeting right now. I’ll check in when we take a break. Have your phone close.”
“Yes, Sir.” Lucy hung up the phone and climbed into the second last train car. There were only a few people seated, so she chose a seat in an empty row and set her bag down. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the seat next to her. The list of things that Sir wanted her to bring for the weekend took up most of her suitcase, so her laptop and all her toiletries were shoved in her purse. If she was going to keep making these trips, she really need to invest in a larger suitcase that she could check.
Sitting next to the window Lucy settled down for the three hour train ride. It really wasn’t too bad of a trip, and the quiet time to work made it infinitely better than driving. Pulling out her laptop she pulled up her latest story and began to write. A few miles down the track an attendant came to check her ticket, but other than she was left in peace.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”
Lucy was jostled out of her train of thought as she realized the gentleman was talking to her. She grabbed her bag and apologized. But as she did she notice that the car was not really all that full. There were plenty of open seats. Why did he have to sit there and make her move her bag? However, it wasn’t worth being rude, so she smiled as he sat down next to her.
“How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you. And you?”
“I’m pretty good. Where are you headed?”
“Ahh. The city of brotherly love.”
Lucy just stared back at him, unsure what to say to that. No one had ever bothered her on the train, especially not for chit chat. Normally having her face in her computer was enough to tell people to leave her be.
“What takes you to Philly? Work?” Lucy sighed and closed her computer. She wasn’t going to be able to get any writing done like this.
“I’m visiting a friend for the weekend.”
Lucy’s phone buzzed. She grabbed like the lifeline it was.
How are you doing, baby?
Getting time to write?
What’s the matter?
I just have a guy sitting next to me who wants to chat. It’s really distracting.
Is he harassing you? Can you move?
No, he’s harmless. Just chatty. It’s fine. It’s only another hour or so.
“Talking to your boyfriend?”
Lucy wanted to say it was none of his business, but thought better of it. “My mother.”
“Oh. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Doesn’t he worry about you taking trains by yourself?”
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have never had an unsatisfactory or unsafe experience on a train.” Until now, she thought as she looked out the window.
“How old are you?”
“Do you want to know how old I am?”
“I guess, sure.”
“Same age as my older brother.” She wanted to make up some lie about her brother being a marine or something to try and intimidate him. Maybe this guy was just lonely, there was no harm in letting him ramble.
“So how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”
“Six months, but we have been friends a lot longer.”
“How did you meet?”
“Online actually.” The name of the kink community website certainly wasn’t relevant.
Lucy took the moment of awkward silence to check her phone again. No new messages, Sir must have gone back to his meeting. Only a few stops left, thank heavens.
“Does your boyfriend live in Philly?”
“Yes. Actually, I need to get off at the next stop, can you please let me out.” Lucy grabbed her back and squeezed past the walking 20 questions game. Gathering herself she wandered to the back of the car to wait for the next stop. At least she might be able to write on the way home. Maybe headphones would help her look even more anti-social.
The train slowed as they came into the station and nearly jumped out of the car. She walked down to the luggage claim to get her bag. Luckily, her weekend bag was bright green and easy to spot.
As she turned to head toward the parking lot she spotted Sir walking toward her. She smiled as he grinned at her. Then she saw who he was walking with. It was the incessantly chatty man from the train! He started laughing at the obviously shocked face she wore.
She walked up to the pair of them.
“Me.” He grinned. The man turned back to Sir. “Anyway, she seems lovely.” He looked at Lucy and smiled. “I would love to play you guys tomorrow night. I will text you when my training session is over.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. The man shook Sir’s hand.
“Oh yeah, ” He turned back. “She will need to be punished tomorrow for lying and telling me that you were her mother.” He and Sir both laughed as he turned to walk across the parking lot to his car.