Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Rope Dreams

Sir told me he had a surprise for me, but gave no clue as to what it was. We have talked about a number of things recently so it could be one of many. All he said was that it was an activity that I had shown a great deal of interest in for some time. I was a little bit anxious, but also filled with anticipation as he brought out a canvas bag. From my kneeling position it looked like another toy bag, black in color, with four buckles holding it closed. Sir started to slowly undo the buckles. He was taking his time at revealing what was inside. He slowly unfolded the bag to reveal a fantastic surprise.

It was full of lots and lots of lovely rope. Giddy with excitement it was difficult to remain in position. I wanted to get up and play with the rope now laid out on the bed. Turning back to me, Sir took up his usual position on the edge of the bed. He talked to me at length about what he was planning to do with me and the rope. He also went on and on about the safety aspect of this play, the need to be patient as we both learn how to play with the rope. I tried not to wiggle with excitement as he talked about working up to hard ties and public play. My pussy was practically dripping.

Initially he said we would play alone, learn some basic ties, learn to get a feel for the bite of the rope and to experience increasing levels of immobilization. He also indicated that we would attend some local activities and learn from the more experienced practitioners. After he felt we had mastered the basic skills he talked about looking at full body suspension. He quickly hosed down any thoughts of that happening soon. The fact that he knew I would want to jump right into the extreme was calming as he had clearly laid out a timeline to force me to be patient.

By the time he got to this point my attention had started drifting to the rope lying there on the bed. I just wanted to pick it up and run it through my hands. I was  looking forward to the new experiences this would open up. I had fantasied about being tied up, immobilized and suspended for as long as I can remember. I knew Sir would take it very slow. I suspect it’s due to his cautious nature, not that there was anything wrong with that. He had a Dom  friend who unfortunately injured his sub because he tried something before he was ready.

Sir motioned me up from the floor where I had been kneeling and invited me to explore. There was so much to play with. He had obviously talked to someone experienced and purchased a pretty elaborate ‘starter’ kit. I selected a small coil of rope and released the slip knot. Pulling it through my hands I could feel my excitement building. He tells me that I’m holding a 15’ length of 6mm hemp rope. He took me through the other ropes in the bag one at a time, most likely so that he could order me to collect various lengths and widths before we play in the future.

I appreciate his understanding that expecting me to be able to collect items without explanation is unrealistic. He also showed me the EMT safety sheers. He went to great lengths to remind me that safety is very important and I’m always to raise any concerns I have when we are playing and especially when we are trying things for the first time. In fact he makes it a new rule then and there. We discussed pain versus numbness and what strain can do to damage nerves and muscles. It was a bit scary, but a necessary conversation that I appreciated.

I also spied a couple of steel objects tucked into a pocket of the bag. Sir allowed me to open the pouch and to take them out. One of the items  I had seen in some porn videos.  I picked up the anal hook and grinned. I’m looking forward to when we eventually play with it. The weight was heavier than I was expecting. I may have spent a little too long fondling the ball at the end thinking about where this would end up. Eventually putting it aside I found a steel ring and a heart shaped ring. Sir tells me they are suspension rings for much later on. I then put them back into the pocket. I then sit as demure as I can on the edge of the bed, hands folded in my lap, hoping I can entice Sir to try some of the rope on me tonight.

It seems to work as Sir orders me to stand and move to the space at the end of the bed. He picked up the shorter length of rope, pulled out a book I hadn’t spied and came over to me.

“Now Rye, lets do some basic practice. Understand that this will be somewhat tedious to start with and I am going to make mistakes and I’m going to want to retie knots sometimes as well. Trust me over time I will gain proficiency and you needn’t worry about your enjoyment. As it is always, careful what you wish for.” He lectured with a smile. “Now hold out your left arm like a good girl” he added.

I raise my left arm in front of me. He opened his book to a previously marked page. I can already see notes and highlights. Sir takes his research very seriously. Taking a piece of rope from the bed he quickly checked the book and turned back to me. Looking down I watched him with fascination as he went about his business. It’s clear that he has practiced this particular tie but he still checked back to the book on occasion to confirm. Such the perfectionist. Just when I thought he had finished I feel him undo the rope.

I really wanted to be able to look at the tie before he removed it. Just as that thought enters my head I feel him start again. Okay, maybe he wasn’t happy with it. A little while later he steps back and announces that this is a single column tie. Before I could even ask him what it’s used for he took the free end of the rope, looped it around the bed post, pulling to taught. My arm followed. Pretty clear implications there.

He returned to the bed and picked up a second length of rope. Repeating the process on my right arm I was now tied to the bed frame facing outwards, arms spread and tied. Stepping back he admired his handiwork. Stepping forward he asked me if I was enjoying myself, reaching his hand down to feel my pussy he got his answer. I was soaked, though I really wish I could have seen myself in the mirror.

Returning to the bed he came back with a much smaller rope, more like cord. He then proceeded to bind my tits with the cord. This caused them to swell and engorge in moments.  Suitably trussed he wandered off, leaving me to my sensations. I was glad we had that mirror in the wall as I could at least admire the left side of myself. I could twist and turn a little which helped me get a partially good view. I didn’t hear him return until he commented on me admiring his handiwork, but added that he wasn’t finished just yet. As he came into view I noticed he was carrying the crop.

He walked around me, checking that his ties were not too tight and rubbing my arms. He squeezed my breasts making sure there is some blood flow, even if they were starting to turn a pinkish red. Stepping back he lined up the crop and hit my left breast. As I was expecting the blow I didn’t make a sound. Not happy with that outcome the second blow on my right breast was decidedly harder. I couldn’t contain myself this time and I let out a slow “Ouch”. Pleased with my response he began to alternate his blows from breast to breast, sometimes two or three on each before changing.

He had been deliberately avoiding my nipples but I knew it wouldn’t be long. He stepped in to check my arousal and I didn’t disappoint. My pussy was leaking profusely. I sensed he was close to finishing the play session. Stepping back again he let my nipples have it. So much ouch, so much intensity, so hot. He soon had me hoping about but also peaking my arousal.

Sensing I was struggling not to come he put the crop down, stepping in close, kissed me passionately and put his hand over my pussy. Using his hand to rub my clit, he had me begging to come within moments. Kissing me more roughly and rubbing me harder I was so close to coming that I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. I pleaded with him to let me come for him. Pausing briefly from his passionate kissing he told me to cum like the good girl I am. That sent me over the edge.

Later, after he had untied me and we’d packed up the rope, we talked about how much fun this journey into rope was going to be.

Define Your Kink: Day 2

#2 – Describe who you might submit to and how.
Are you exclusively submissive in marriage or just in the bedroom?

Even right now, I’ll admit, the idea of submitting to anyone other than my husband is still hard to imagine. When we started trying our various BDSM dynamics we started right in with a 24/7 M/s set-up. Looking back starting out so hard and fast wasn’t a great plan, but we were both so excited by this whole new world that we got a little (a lot!) ahead of ourselves.

I think we were so taken by the idea of what we could add to our relationship that we didn’t test things before just adding more and more. The entire system breakdown was inevitable. Going in full-throttle was a mistake that we are still paying for, sadly. And I’m not sure we will recover fully, though I am hopeful. I would love to get back to something in and outside the bedroom. I enjoyed our daily rituals and the chore expectations we established early on. With time and work we could get back to that.

With my husband or another Sir, there are several ways I would like to show much submission. Being a fuckpuppet is certainly at the top of the list. But being a service sub and a little are also avenues to serve that I would like to explore. I’ve started to realize, given the right support, that I really enjoy being a little. The idea of being tucked in and cared for is a real turn on. I’m not sure I’m one for baby talk or frilly pink dresses, but I a lot of other little aspects are very intriguing.

We shall see how the next few months come along. I am hoping that my husband will be interested in trying some BDSM things again. Obviously, we would go more slowly. Maybe trying a strictly bedroom scene or two rather than a full-time dynamic again. Kink is something that I have realized I need in my life, so I’m willing to be patient. A little is better than nothing at all.

~

This is part of my Define Your Kink questions. Check out my page for my answers so far and other bloggers taking part.

Define Your Kink: Day 1

#1 – Do you view your submission as: Taken in hand, domestic discipline, top/bottom, dominant/submissive, owner/pet, DD/lg; or some other description or combination? If you do not use a label, why?

I have used several labels to try and define and understand my submission. And while I currently don’t have a dynamic with my husband (or anyone else). I’m trying to sort out how I view my submissive mindset.

Initially I defined myself and our dynamic (when we had one) as dominant/submissive. Mostly because I didn’t really know what else was out there. Submissive still generally covers the broad strokes of what I am. And a dominant is generally what I am looking for. But through my exploration I’ve found that I would like something a little more specific.

My submission has elements of domestic discipline and top/bottom. But my submission and my needs tend to fit most closely with Owner/pet. I don’t gravitate toward animal play, more of a human pet type play. I want to serve and impress my owner, but I also want to be cherished. And I think that feeling moves me out of the master/slave set up in most cases.

I love to be pampered and pleasing. I don’t do bratty well and love to cuddle. There is a bit of cross over into DD/lg, but the idea of a Daddy doesn’t really turn me on. I like having expectations (chores, rules, routine, etc.). Though I’m not sure that rules my kink enough to be domestic discipline.

The problem is I have a multitude of kinks that put me into several overlapping categories. I consider myself a submissive, with several tentacles attached.

Masochist

Little

Pet

Slave

Slut

Poly

Each word takes on a different significance with the passage of time. Slave is slowly fading into the background. Whereas little and poly have grown. But I’m not sure if that is because of me, or due to my current situation. Maybe the right dominant would change that back around again.

While I have gotten better at defining things that I would like out of a dynamic, I haven’t experienced any specific one long enough to rule it out. I think I would benefit from a Dominant willing to show me what he wants, and see how it fits. Or, a Dominant with just as many adjectives as me, who is ready to try new things. Maybe we end up finding the perfect set up together, but even if we don’t, we would both learn from the experience.

 

*I am using these questions to try and help me define what my submission means to me and what I need from BDSM. Check out all the questions and other answers as I complete them on my Define Your Kink page.*

Different Strokes for Different Folks

I think as a young girl I always imagined there was one perfect guy out there for me. That my knight in shining armor would come to sweep me off my feet and meet all of my needs, whatever they might be. And, as I self-aware teen, I, of course, knew exactly what those needs would be (at this point sarcasm should be dripping from your screen). The pressure on that poor man would have been horrific. I shudder to think what I have been putting my husband through for the last ten years. No wonder his back is so bad.

But there is something interesting that I am slowly realizing as I delve into poly: It’s okay to have relationships with different people in order to meet different needs/wants. I know, I know. It’s crazy! My small mind is still struggling to wrap around this idea, as obvious as it is for some. I can allow people to show me parts of themselves without pressuring them to be something they are not. And I can be me with each of them, but they don’t have to worry about meeting all of my needs all the time. I know that this may not work for everyone, nor should it. I guess I have just always felt bad when my husband hasn’t really been into something that I am, and vice versa. So realizing that I we don’t have to everything to one another all the time was quite a shock.
Over the last few months I have been looking into different aspects of this idea. Not being a different person with different people, but letting different aspects of myself out. And that, interestingly, has led to me being called several names. I don’t think I did it on purpose, it just sort of happened. But I think it helps to foster the connection, and makes me feel quite special to that person.
Friend with Benefits – “Eve”
We have been friends for nearly three years now. We share everything and talk a lot through. When we are angry with our spouses we talk it out with the other person before picking a fight. It has saved us both from a lot of needless arguments. There is always support for our dieting and various personal improvement pursuits. Our age difference is irrelevant and our feelings continue to grow. There may even have been some exchanged photos and videos, all in a manner of research, of course. 🙂
This has caused a bit of emotional strife. He means a great deal to me, and I know I am special to him. But as we are both trying to explore our sexuality in a safe space, we often share desires and fantasies that include the other person. This doesn’t bother me too much, but I think it highlights the distance for him. He started calling me ‘Eve’, his temptress, earlier this fall. I think as I have opened up my marriage, his seems to be closing ranks (at least in his opinion). But we don’t judge each other, we support one another through all of our struggles. That constant support has been vital to my growth and blogging. I cannot imagine my life without him in some sort of capacity, even though he lives half way around the world.
Dominant – “Little One”
I’m not sure what this is, to be honest. He’s a friend and fellow blogger than I flirt with on Twitter. It’s nice to talk about my submission and things I want to try without putting pressure to preform. I do get a certain giddiness when he calls me ‘little one’ though. Mostly because I haven’t been little in a long time. I do find myself falling into the category of ‘little’ quite easily though. A stuffed animal and some cartoons and I am a happy camper.
We chat about our various hobbies and our kids. He and his sub are getting married next year, so I’ve been enjoying talking to him about wedding plans. But discussing his local D/s scene is nice. I am jealous on many levels as he talks about clubs and his community. No one else that I chat with on twitter regularly is into BDSM. Each of the other men listed here either aren’t into D/s or don’t define themselves as dominant. My husband is working on himself right now, and I know that BDSM is a future goal for us. But talking to this gentleman (and he is) is good perspective.
Husband – “Rye”
He is my rock. We have been through so much together and I’m sure will be through much more. We have two adorable, if infuriating, children together and I can’t imagine being a parent with anyone else. Our mutual mental illnesses included, we love and support each other through everything. The last year has been difficult. The move and starting our businesses (yes, plural) has been stressful. We are supporting one another through our struggle and he never ceases to amaze me.
He understands me more than any other person could. We never go to bed angry, unless it’s at the children. And I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be understanding and supportive about being open and poly. I just hope that he finds what he is looking for out of it as well. He knows exactly when I’m having a terrible day and knows which junk food I want to feel better. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Lover – “Baby”
Generally he does call me by my real name, but when he calls me baby I go all puddily. Our mutual love of sarcasm and wit make for hilarious conversations. We enjoy eating and watching cartoons almost as much as we enjoy fucking. He is endlessly positive and supportive of everything I do. I know that our relationship is still very young, but we feel old together.  He is a bit older than me, but, aside from calling me ‘baby’, he doesn’t treat me like a child.
I know that he has other partners. I’ll admit that that fact isn’t always easy to stomach. But considering the number of states between us, it’s hardly like I can complain. The time we have together, however, fleeting, is wonderful. Knowing him has certainly helped me to work on being in the present. The future will happen whether I want it to or not, no point worrying about now. And we both seem to want each other in it.
Many different names, but I’m still me.

The New Dominant Reality

A dominant friend and I were talking on Twitter yesterday and he asked me about subspace. He was describing types of scenes and activities that help his sub get into subspace. Then he asked me what worked for me. So I tried to think back to the last time I had gotten good and floaty.

And I couldn’t remember!

After agonizing about it for awhile, I finally realized it was over a year ago. We were still in the other house. In fact, since we moved many of our toys have only been out of the toy box once or twice. After my loud sigh with this depressing realization I attempted to answer his question.

I love bondage. There is something about being tied up in cuffs and rope that just helps me breathe a little easier. I remember once really wanting to ask Sir if I could sleep in the breast tie he had done. Having something close to my skin helps me feel safe. I’m very tactile like that, apparently. Not sure how connected it is, but I like to wear camisoles and tight shirts underneath looser clothes as well. I always love the idea of being hugged. I love it when Sir (or just about anyone, I’m friendly) holds onto my waist. In general I’m a touch/feely type of person.

I think that might be a bigger reason why not playing/scening/having sex with Sir has bothered me so much. I’ve practically forgotten what subspace feels like, and trust me, as a submissive that stinks. But the physical touching is what I miss most. When he decided that he didn’t want to do 24/7 anymore I was hurt. But there was still a lot of D/s in the bedroom and a lot of intimacy in general. The touch made it bearable. Now with little touching at all, the absence of BDSM has become even more obvious.

Talking to my dominant friend highlighted some pretty stark realities for me. First, there are a lot of kinks I still want to try. Thinking about wax play, rope, and all the humiliation scenes I have been craving has been tough. But an even more difficult realization is that Sir is not really my Sir. I’m still a submissive. And I don’t have another dom. But really I only call him Sir on here because his name needs to remain anonymous. That hit me pretty hard. I used to crave him to grab my neck when I would make a bratty comment or order me to sleep on the floor. Lately I just crave something more than my goodbye kiss before I leave for the office in the morning.

Subspace seems so far away now.

Elust #88

Elust 88

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Photo courtesy of Miss Scarlet Writes

Welcome to Elust 88

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 #89 Start with the rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Heart stabbing

Redemption: The Sex Goddess Project

Exhibitionish

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

An Open Letter To That Cunnilingus Post

I Found Myself Over His Knee

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Erotic Fiction

Overlook
The Haunting of Iris Day
MERMAID??? Wicked Wednesday #229
Fear, Scents and Sounds
Lady Amore
love is love
Spray
Her Struggle
The New Principal

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Evolving Landscapes
Trust in Me
15 BEST Things About Giving Blowjobs!
With a rebel yell
What lie do you need to hear so we can Fuck?

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Brush
Tasked with asking for what I need
How Old Is Too Old For Wild Lovemaking?
Brass In Pocket
An Unstated Predicament
California Cuisine
Krystal’s First Pegging
Struggling

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

That Adult Bookstore Just Outside Town
Creature of the night
MISTRESS IN A DRESS – or out of it
Come Here. I want to Taste You
Terror of the cane! How to make caning sexy

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

11 Signs You Might Be a Side Guy

 

Writing About Writing

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

 

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Casual Degradation

A while ago, I came across this post on Tumblr:

One of my favorite things is casual degradation.

Especially when it’s cute.
Cuddle me tight, kiss my forehead, and call me your dumb little cocksocket. Call me that in the same tone you would call someone “love” or some other cute nickname.

If I’m taking a bath come in to talk about my day and casually unzip your fly and piss in my bathwater, without changing tone.

When I’m making dinner shove a barely lubed plug up my ass while kissing my neck and asking what we’re having.

Make my degradation so casual and part of every day that it becomes a language of love, that without it I worry you’re mad at me.

About a week ago, I showed that post to Rye. She just nodded and said, “Yep.” I smiled.

This expression of “casual degradation” is magnificent. I love the idea of interjecting BDSM sensibilities into every-day life. As Rye discussed yesterday, this is probably not something that’s going to work in all parts of our everyday life, but I want to find a way. That’s why, as I worked from home day, I filled two ice cube trays with piss and set them to cool in the freezer in the garage. I will figure out a way to get them into her drinks whenever I feel like it. Dinner, kids at home, even when her parents are visiting. And with every sip she can taste how much I think about her, how focused I am on her, and how owned she is.

Glorious.

Another wonderful element of this is that it gives her the ability to ask for humiliation without having to worry about my response. I will always say yes to this.  If she is feeling disconnected, needing to request more attention, she can ask me to make her a drink. (Realistically, I know it’s going to be years before she asks me to make her a drink again, but she knows she can and she knows what will happen.)

She is my beautiful piss-drinking cumdumpster, and she makes me so happy and proud.

Note: If you’re interested in discussing these ideas more, check out my new group on Fetlife, “Casual Degradation Enthusiasts.”

Owned, Leashed, & Beaten

I spent some time in the corner recently. Often when Sir is setting up a scene he has me sink into my happy submissive place by kneeling in his closet with my nose in the corner. It’s not a punishment; it’s just a good way for me to let go of my other responsibilities and prepare for whatever he asks of me. Sir pulled out the bondage toys and lots of lovely things to make me squirm. Our toys have been packed away since the move and it was nice to get things out again.

My mind was racing through the day and various tasks to remember. But after he gave me some clamps and told me to decorate my pussy I couldn’t focus on much else. Nothing makes you forget your mental grocery list faster than having clamps on your clit. He also pulled out my leash, which always helps me feel owned as well. Sir has enjoyed slowly testing out the nipple piercings and the wartenberg wheel made a painful appearance. Once he was done testing my breasts I was ordered up on the bed.

I got excited as he handed me the doxy and let me get comfortable. For a few minutes anyway. Then, in one of the brief moments I opened my eyes I saw him standing over me with the riding crop. I was allowed to keep working toward my orgasm, but he had me hold my legs up in the air. He started lightly hitting my thighs, but quickly worked his way up to harder swings. The juxtaposition between the vibration on my clit and the sting on my legs had me moaning and begging in no time. The crop on it’s own would have reached my higher pain levels quickly, but with the doxy to temper each strike, the pain made my pleasure even stronger. Sir let me writhe for awhile before he let me come. Only as my orgasm shot through me did my legs start to hurt from the strain of holding them up as my muscles convulsed. When he took the doxy from me and let me relax I curled into a gooey ball. He covered me with the aftercare blanket and unclipped my leash.

Owned, leashed, beaten, and allowed to pleasure myself with a glorious orgasm. I would be happy writing that sentence all day everyday.

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Astigmatism – Nature’s Kinky Blindfold

Rye's glasses
The most expensive blindfold you can buy.

Do you have glasses? If you do, take them off.

Now, if you did what I said, or you didn’t have glasses to take off, then this post isn’t really for you. You might be squinting, or maybe you can see just fine because your screen is close enough – either way, keep reading, but understand that the kernel of this post might not land for you.

Everyone else, those of you who thought, No, I can’t do that. I need my glasses… Pay especially close attention.

Rye is like you. She has glasses, and she needs them to see. Not, “drive,” or “see well,” or even, “see well enough to get along.” Just, to see. Which is why I take them away whenever I can when we are playing. She hates this, naturally, because by doing so I am genuinely disabling her. I am making her disabledunablewithout ability. Specifically, I am taking away her ability “to see in any meaningful way.” But that doesn’t mean that her eyes don’t function.

Now, consider the humble blindfold. It is a BDSM staple of such staggering commonality that it verges on the stereotypical. While visiting a purveyor of sadomasochistic utensils in Columbus, OH (The Chamber, which is totally worth a visit, if you ever have the chance), I chided the youth working the register when I came across the rack of gray ties. She told me, “Soccer moms have money, too.”

The blindfold is so ubiquitous because it is so useful in imparting something that all dom(me)s rely upon – suspense. Suspense turns upon belief and certainty, both of which require information. You can blindfold the sub and then take all the toys out. You can take all the toys out and then blindfold the sub – my personal preference. Or you can leave them their sight, and deny them the unknowing suspense, leaving them only with their knowing suspense.

Whether or not the sub has information to perpetuate their belief and/or certainty is something over which the domme/dom has explicit control. What the sub does with that information, however, is genuinely outside of the dom(me)’s control. I can show you the flogger, and I can tell you that I am going to flog your tits. I can’t make you believe me.

I imagine (but it’s not like I’ve done a survey or anything) that most dommes/doms think that this is annoying, but I would offer that, rather than annoying, this is awesome. If the goal of removing information is to cloud belief and certainty, then you can do much more than simply deny information. You can also offer clouded, or untrustworthy information. For example, I know that Rye can see just well enough to tell that I have something in my hand, but she can’t tell whether it’s a flogger, crop, baton, the extension tube from the vacuum (seriously, try one if you haven’t). So, she only knows that she’s going to get hit, but she can’t guess where, and she can’t guess what it’s going to feel like. More to the point, I know that she doesn’t trust what she sees when her glasses come off. All I have to do is take off the glasses, and she does the rest for me. Is he shoving his crotch in my face because he wants me to suck cock or because he wants to reach my ass? I guess I better open my mouth because, sucking or screaming, it’s required…

**Note from Rye: This is totally and completely true. I can see blobs of color without my glasses on and that’s about it. And it drives me nuts when he takes them. Sometimes I think he asks me to move around the room or hands me things just to see me wave my arms around like a zombie. Is zombie kink a thing?

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Reverse Genetics

I will admit, until I read that Needle Play was this week’s KOTW topic, it wasn’t really a kink I had considered. To prep for this post I asked Sir what his thought were on the subject. His response was simply, “Where do I sign?”. After this enthusiasm I really stopped to think about needles and what they could bring to our play.

My relationship with needles is actually rather pleasant. I have my father to thank for this. A case for reverse genetics. My father has a severe phobia of needles. When I was in the hospital after before my gallbladder surgery he couldn’t come in the room as the IV would make him sick. When I was in labor  I (who am I kidding, it was nurse, I didn’t know which was was up) would cover up the IV with a sheet while he was the room. He once passed out visiting my grandfather in the hospital as he had to have an IV in his neck. He hit the floor before he was completely in the room. So growing up, whenever I had to get shots, I always tried to ignore it and keep it together for him. The result is that needles really don’t bother me. I would give blood every chance I could if they didn’t have so much trouble finding a good vein (those poor nurses hate me). I am a self-proclaimed tattoo addict, so obviously those needles aren’t a concern, and pin pricks are part of the life of a quilter. On most fronts my father’s aversion has pushed me into comfort when it comes to needles.

But getting an injection or accidentally stabbing yourself with a sewing needle are not the same the intricate and time consuming designs of needle play. My understanding from the research I’ve done since I found out about this topic shows labor intensive set-up and tear down processes with several safety concerns. Sir isn’t going to be decorating my back with a bunch of quilting needles. And having blood drawn can be a lengthy process, but an extended scene could be even longer and a greater strain depending on body position, even if it would be much less actually blood loss. I’m not sure how I will react to that. Being tied up and needles placed on various parts of my body and intimate areas will be heady, but being bound and/or being forced to watch might be too much.

I will admit I was more than a little surprised at Sir’s positive reaction. I think we may have discussed it in passing when we first started D/s, but it hasn’t come up since then. His interest makes me want to try it at least once, to see if he enjoys it as much as he hopes. It’s always a great feeling when you see someone truly enjoying a kink. And, of course, I would like to see how I react to it as well. Maybe not something we do all the time, but it would be a nice treat for nights when we have the house to ourselves.

Though it’s just one more reason to keep our toys locked up tight. If my dad ever found them he would pass out at the sight of all those needles.

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