Tail end of Winter, dawn of Spring and the Sakura Matsuri

My "little leather life" as of late has been fairly busy, though I've not been blogging it. Instead of attempting to catch up, I'll just make a brief note of our travels yesterday and other upcoming events, some Leather, others being more seasonally inspired.

Sir and I headed down into Washington D.C. yesterday for the Crucible's 18th biannual LF&P (Leather Flea and Play,) which as I've noted here before when writing about it, is more commonly referred to as the "elephant pee," hence the elephant logo.

We had originally thought we might be bringing a friend along with us this Spring but travel plans fell through and it turned into a nice event for just the two of us.

It was well into the afternoon by the time we arrived, a slight drizzle was coming down, but it seemed plenty crowded none-the-less.

I was on a mission of sorts, after some rope. We're going to make it to Shibaricon this year come hell or high water (after our thwarted attempt last year), so this was going to be one of my last chances to catch Rainbow Rope in person before we head towards Chicago.

We found some nice blue MFP for Sir, and a nice 50' piece of Blue and Black all of which came home with us. Afterwards we wandered a bit, looked at knives, but didn't quite see anything that felt quite right.

At one point, I did see someone across the room that we had met at Black Rose last Autumn, but by the time we had come back around she was nowhere to be seen. So this was yet another flea where we weren't really finding familiar faces.

We stumbled headlong into a happy surprise as we made our way towards the door. When we had come in through the library area it had been a mob scene and so we figured we'd come back through on our way out. Well sure enough, just as we were getting ready to leave we finally stumbled headlong into the "unique" and custom that I try to keep my eyes out for when we go to the Fleas.

Wooden canes (among other tools) with bone handles. Lovely, natural materials with soft leather work carefully bringing the pieces together. Sir said they felt really good in his hand and the balance felt wonderful.

My ex-wife and I used to discuss the importance of tools and how it was not merely about feeling amazing on the "receiving" end of a whip, but also about how a tool feels in the hand of one who wields it. Those conversations led her to create an incredibly special whip, one that will never be used on anyone else. It remains as a physical legacy of our time together.

These canes embodied that same spirit. One is long, the shaft a carefully polished hickory, the other a much shorter purple heartwood, perfect for intimate work. Stumbling into special pieces like these is precisely part of the reason we go to the fleas and vendors rooms at events.

I protected our newfound treasures from the rain as we wandered back to our vehicle. All notions of a trip to the National Arboretum or even a quick drive around the tidal basin to see how far along the sakura blossoms were fell by the wayside in the bleakness of the rainy afternoon.

Instead, we stopped back by one of my old neighborhoods for good pizza and beer and just plain spending some time together, talking on into the evening. The drive back home in the rain made a perfect end to the day.

In other news, we are looking forward to DC and Philly's Sakura Matsuri both this month and in April. (Click here to see more information about this year's DC featured poster artist, Carol Tomasik. I love this year's design!)

We celebrate every year, welcoming the cherry blossoms and marking the occasion is part of our Household. Along our way back home yesterday, we saw a few trees already in bloom, so I suppose I can at long last break out the Sakura incense.

For just a few short weeks each year the whole house smells of the blossoms and incense, and I take long hot baths in Sakura bath salts. The tub gets filled with pink water and I listen to lots of koto and shakuhachi music. It is all part of how we shake off the last of Winter. For now, I'm trying to decide what events over the course of the festivals we'll actually make it to.

We have also made the decision to go to the (first ever!) Charm City Fetish Fair near Baltimore. I'm actually very excited about the event, in part because I'll be having a number of friends from out of state coming in for the event. We're working to schedule meals and possibly sleepovers, and other such around the edges of the event. It should be a good time.

So we've been keeping busy.

January and February have also been important months in terms of my "little Leather life", but I will leave those stories to another post.

Full Moon Debachery; a Why of Leathersex

Today I'm sitting here typing in a serious afterglow. Still a bit flighty, and happily still sore, but with a sense of deep contentment; precisely the way I like feeling on 'mornings after.'

This entry, both long and perhaps a bit more explicit than what I've written here to date is such for good reason. It's going to take both some space and some detail to explain what it is I'm trying to express.

Our time together last night got initially pushed back a few hours due to other circumstances, but later on the evening we finally carved out some time to experiment with the new massage table (hmmmm, I think it needs a different name in relation to how we're mainly utilizing it, I'll have to work on that.)

It was the first time in a long time that we've had to just shut the world out and spend an evening working with the tools and being together, which is the important part for me, that connection. Sir listening for sounds, watching my breathing, gauging my reactions as together we go further and further.

All the while, as his counterpart, I am fully in the moment; sometimes looking up and seeing his reactions, or seeing THAT LOOK in his eyes, or when I'm blindfolded and can only hear him making preparations for what he will do to me, yet not knowing what will come next, being in that moment of anticipation.

Sex and even 'rough sex', sex about power and control and dominance and submission is one thing, working with the tools does something else. It's a physical ordeal that I have no choice but to give over to, it pulls me out of myself into a place where time becomes irrelevant. A place where I don't question or analyze, or pause in hesitation, or try to anticipate needs, I simply obey and am owned. I don't focus on being his, I simply AM his. In that clarity is a tremendous sense of freedom.

When I go through periods of not having those times together, no amount of sex can 'make up for it'. I crave being in those time suspended moments of clarity, anticipation, and inevitable sensation, yes even pain that only 'work' seems to give me.

But I also crave what such does for Sir, what those times do for him, his confidence, his control. Time spent together doing the 'work' is so important, that confidence and clarity spills over into other parts of our lives and our life together and provides a core where we both know what's what, and how it is between us. We both need that. We need to spend time there, as it gives everything else we do in relation to one another that foundation.

They are some of the times I feel closest to him. Without that connection, the so called 'play' can't work, no amount of pushing it, or trying to make it work can overcome it.

So late in the evening we came home, I showered and dressed and waited for him in our workspace. He came in to find me kneeling, dressed in the Catherine Coatney skirt and shirt (that he decided out at the beach that he loves on me.) I wore stockings and long gloves, my hair tucked away up in two small buns with a pair of Darklocks' Diva Falls in purple and black (called "Vertigo" for those of you interested in such details) cascading down over my shoulders.

These are new, fetishy fun goodies I picked up not long after the LF&P. They go well with all that wonderful black and shiny fetishware. As I eventually get to making the metallic purple latex dress I have in mind (and materials for) these should go a long way towards completing that look.

Naturally, Sir's response was more along the lines of a cross between being puzzled and thinking they were rather silly, but that's ok, they made him smile and I suppose that was part of what I had aimed for in the first place.

Soon enough he had me naked, lying face down on the massage table, blindfolded with the soft black leather blindfold I adore. He spent a few moments running ropes around under parts of the table, then attaching panic snaps so he would be able to change my position quickly. He pulled out the large padded black cuffs and buckled them onto my limbs, a process that always induces that 'sinking' feeling in me. I get quiet, and relax as best I can in light of what I know is coming soon thereafter.

In no time, he had me 'not going anywhere', firmly attached to the table, as if a canvas for him to 'paint' upon. First came the floggers, some soft and almost massage like, starting slowly, helping me breathe and relax, then ones with a bit more 'bite' reddening my skin, making me feel white hot searing pain up to the edge of seeing stars.

I find the whips loud in the otherwise quiet house. It seems to lead to a slight nervousness on my part, perhaps due to so many years of working in spaces with neighbors upstairs, etc. Despite the fact that Sir and I have a great deal of privacy, I sometimes find it difficult to fully relax, still being on edge that somehow someone will in some way will hear or interrupt. It's a relatively irrational fear, but one that at times makes it a little difficult for me to be fully present, fully relaxed. And that tightness in my muscles is always something I 'pay for' the next morning.

His aim was dead on. The table made a very comfortable height to work at, and allowed him to get in close to see the way I was reacting. He later told me that despite being blindfolded and face down, the sounds I was making and the slight movements of my body provided him lots of feedback. From time to time he would set the whip aside and run our 'empty rabbit' a rabbit skin across the deeply coloured areas he had just worked. The contrast between the two, the whips and the soft skin is immense. It's the slight variations that keep a flogging flowing, and keep me off balance.

At some point, he turned to the rattan canes, which so long as they're handled with timing and at times a gentle hand (alongside other times when they're NOT) I've come to love. His skilled hand uses them in many different ways; sometimes gently tapping, other times slowly increasing the intensity, and other times giving me strokes of pure fire that bloom and make me cry out.

I want to spend more time with the canes, slowly increasing my pain tolerance. In some ways I feel very out of practice at the moment.

Fortunately, as Sir was kind enough to point out, caning me gets him hard as well, so he released my hands, let me sit up slowly and he used my mouth a bit. By then I was well into that headspace that makes me both quiescent and obedient.

I've lost track of exactly how the evening unfolded, but at some point, perhaps prior to the canes he asked what I needed. I urged him towards doing some 'detail work', maybe some marks. Whenever it was, I was still blindfolded when I heard him working with something that made strange sounds I couldn't identify. The next thing I knew he was using the Chinese cupping set, with points on me. Having the cups on my just flogged back while being flogged on the ass is an acute awareness. My head couldn't get around it. It's just another of those sensations that can be used to bifurcate attention and set me out of my own control. Perplexing, but in a good way.

Afterwards he asked how I was doing and I told him I would need to change positions soon. Being the sadist he is, he had me lying on my freshly flogged backside. The result was a wonderful slowly burning anguish. So he worked over my front a bit, utilizing small clothespins, the snake bite 'suckers', and finally the vicious small round braided whip, everywhere on my breasts and thighs.

He held my head and slapped my face, first one side, then the other. He took me to that place where I get inarticulate, shuddering, and at that point where both 'stop' and 'don't stop' meld into one. It's a place where I prefer to simply be, and let him make decisions, anything else is just beyond my grasp.

So that was the point at which he decided to 'use' me. As he's getting ready, he turns to me and says "are you going to be blogging this?" and we both have a good hard laugh. (We later realized that for both of us, his comment related to Lolita's t-shirt we'd seen her in at events: "I'm blogging this." which is both brilliant, AND fits her and the writing she does at her site perfectly) At the time, though, blogging was about the furthest thing from my mind, it was something fully forgotten until he mentioned it.

Which is a good thing. I'm not experiencing these things with an 'eye towards' bragging about them online later, I'm experiencing them fully in the moment.

I come to write here after the fact, by way of recording our history, but also by way of journaling my own impressions and reasons and reactions to it. That may be of use to someone at some point, (it might even be of use for non-Leather people to gain some understanding of what Leathersex is about for me at least), but for me, the blogging is a very separate act from the living of it at the time. That is the action, this is the recording and analysis of the action, done after the fact, not in the moment of or at the time of the actions themselves.

Speculation about 'Slitherings' and how or even if what happened last night could end up here has become somewhat of an oddity for both of us. After all, sleeping with someone who sex-blogs is well, a bit different than not sleeping with a sex-blogger. Sir reads this, and we'll no doubt discuss what I've written here, which seems to lead on around the cycle to its own set of realizations, no doubt similar to how many Owners use journaling.

Sex-blogging aside, back to the sex;

He rearranged me down to the edge of the table, slid a strap around my ankles and then behind my neck, giving me something to push back against while keeping my legs up in the air, and he took me, roughly.

Blogging or not, I don't find words really work at this point.

It was just, well, that kind of sex I live for. My back and ass ached, both sore and pushed down against the table, giving me additional layer of pain that provided a backdrop to what was happening to me. Sir absolutely in that moment, both of us exactly where we wanted to be. That place where for him control and taking what he wants, that place where for me, it's both pain and simply having no other possibility other than giving him what he wants, and how much that gets me off, it's why we do this.

Afterwards, there's putting me to bed, leaving the cuffs on and putting the steel tool into me and him holding me, forcing me to orgasm, taking it from me. Leaving me completely incoherent and happy. So happy.

Lying in his arms, aftercare, exhaustion, and feeling so close to him, feeling so His.

That is what this is about for me.

It's what Leathersex is that even the roughest of ordinary sex isn't. It's about reaching that point where I have no choice other than to give myself over to him, while being fully aware he'll be there to catch me, to protect me, to do what's best for me when I don't have enough control of my faculties to even know what that might be. It ceases to be a giving, as that implies far too much control on my part, it simply is, I'm His, and he takes.

It's about trust and surrender and being fully both connected to and at times dependent upon the person I've chosen to entrust myself to.

***

This morning, I awoke to thunder; sore, aching, penetrated, marked, wrung out, used. Yet feeling so content, so languid, so where I want to be.

All of this, this is why I do these things. This is why I am with Sir.

Later, he examined and brushed his fingertips lightly across the lingering evidence of his work from the night before. Outside, rain pelted the windows. He held me, and kissed me.

I can't imagine being with a partner who is not Leather.

Spring LF&P, artisans and community

So yesterday was the Crucible's Spring Leather Flea and Play (LF&P,) affectionately referred to as "elephant pee". (Yes, you can go back and see what I blogged about last Autumn's LF&P too.)

I had originally thought we might attend and take a friend with us, then head out to dinner, but he decided he wasn't going to make it. At that point we hemmed and hawed and eventually came to the conclusion we'd decide whether or not to attend based on how our day went.

Naturally getting up and out on Saturday took longer than expected, and travel through DC was just as screwed up as it tends to be these days, but we did get to watch one hell of a storm front coming in. Fortunately, we reached the Crucible before the afternoon rains.

We entered and wandered about a bit. The vendors seemed pretty much the same as last fall. I wasn't finding much by way of tools that interested me. I know there are still a few real artisans doing whip work, but finding them rarely seems as simple as wandering a flea.

I remember when you might see a whip maker at an event not with piles of already produced whips ready for same day sale, but instead the artist would bring out some examples of their best work. You could go and talk with them, examine their work, and if you had the money (which of course I never did) you could decide on the details of how you would like your custom whip or floggers to be carefully braided; what kinds of hides (here, feel this, this is elk. I get these from a hunter tanner friend of mine, I've only got 3 of them, but if you want, I can custom dye this to match your Leathers), how full a mop, the braid on the handle, whether or not you wanted it shot loaded, etc. Most importantly, they would see how you hold a tool, how you use it, where the balance point on the handle was unique to your hand. Then you paid sometimes upfront, sometimes a portion upfront, and within a month or two you arranged to meet and the final result was finally in your hands. These were special- and you treated them as such.

There's probably a blog post in here somewhere about how whip making went from something individuals either learned or turned to their local tack shop for, on through to a few artists around the country, on towards 'manufacturers' and mass marketing and sort of 'brand name' floggers, on into quantity, not necessarily quality floggers. Carpal Tunnel has taken many a whip maker out of such, and there almost seems to be a few year 'workspan' or 'career' for many whip makers.

Those who sometimes do the best work, do only a few, but as such are sometimes very expensive. To actually find floggers not only custom made, but balanced to your particular hand is wonderful, but becoming ever more rare, particularly when whips are so often bought sight unseen, over the net. In any case, there are whips made by certain artisans, many of which no longer do that work, but the pieces live on, and get passed along, provided they aren't destroyed by devout relatives upon an owner's death.

We are fortunate enough to have a set of floggers custom made to Sir's hand, beautiful tools, but our friend no longer braids and while they are special, such are also becoming increasingly rare. The set he had made had never been used on anyone, and when we first came together as a couple he honoured me by using his whips on me. It meant a very great deal to me, and to this day, they still do.

In any case, yes you can find basic, simply braided pieces at fleas. To some extent you can also find some interesting pieces done in small batches by a leatherworker. But while you may be able to custom order pieces from vendors there, seeking out specialists who make custom pieces unique to you, to your hand can often be a bit more complicated. It can mean traveling to them, or seeking them out word of mouth in communities, rather than webpages. Some already have more work than you'd expect just by word of mouth. And longevity in braiding usually means pacing projects as to avoid injury.

As I said though, those who braid don't do so forever. If you find an artist whose work you love, it is often better to get what you can while you can, before injury or time constraints, family obligations or other aspects of 'real life' lead them to stop. Given a choice between a quality handmade flogger and almost any piece of mass market gear, I'd chose the whip.

But I digress. So this Spring, unlike last Autumn, surprisingly, we stumbled into a sort of 'friend of the family', one of Sir's exs. She had not seen him in quite some time, and when he walked over and said hello to her, she did a very amusing double take. Sir in his Leather jacket, dressed in black, hair pulled back neatly, wearing the wide black belt I gave him. It took her a moment to realize it was really him.

Other than one or two of the vendors we recognized from 'back in the day', she was the only person 'from our time' we saw at the Flea. In the end, we agreed to meet after the Flea for dinner. She was with a friend and intended to return for the 'Play' portion of the evening, we on the other hand intended to head home.

So we split up, and I wandered the booths. In the end, I settled upon a Catherine Coatney shirt that would go well with two of my skirts. Otherwise, I was remarkably bored. We looked the booths over twice, to be sure we weren't missing anything, perhaps that one unique little item perhaps we overlooked our first trip around, but no. No such luck. It's odd to be surrounded by fetish-y, BDSM-y goodness and yet not able to find anything that I quite felt need to come home with us. Admittedly that 'best sex toy' is between the ears, but I seem to be going through kind of an odd period, one wherein I find myself surrounded by tools and uninspired by such.

I still seem to 'quest' for the original, the inspired, the careful handcrafted, the unique, but as of late, I never seem to quite find it, whatever 'it' might be.

But part of the Flea is just to see what all is afoot, to wander and be among others who share one's proclivities, and yes sometimes even happen across someone else who remembers another time, and so off to dinner the four of us went. A marvelous dinner, actually. Good to be with an old friend and meet a new one, and all over an excellent meal.

We laughed, and caught up on one another's lives and even spoke of where the folks from back in the day have disappeared to? Her conclusion, from a somewhat different vantage point, is essentially the same as mine- a version of 'underground'.

Commercialization down to the organizational level, the 'net', and attempts at learning skills via Google searches, all have changed the ground out from under us. Lots of us still do what we do, just not publicly, and not in party settings. Many of us have found our partners (and no, by such I'm not saying 'paired', I'm saying people we do this with, some our life partners, some part time lovers, some 'thirds' and some in various cities scattered,) have our few friends we can talk about these things with, and from time to time perhaps attend an 'event', often far from home. 'Scale' has changed.

And we've all seen a lot of really stupid behaviour from people who should know better, it's driven so many of us into more private settings.

Sad in a sense, but it is the picture many of us are beginning to see.

"Elephant Pee"

So today, Sir and I headed down to the "Leather Flea and Play" or LF&P, (which yes, gets transmogrified into "Elephant Pee") at the Crucible in DC. They throw this little shopping expedition and playtime twice a year. Sir and I, this time around anyway, decided to stick with the shopping. Maybe, if we knew a few more folks or some as of yet indeterminate 'something', come next march we might consider getting a nice hotel in the area and yeah, staying for the "play" (Oh how I LOATHE that term in this context). This time out though, we made just a small trip of it.

We saw all of two people we recognized, and no, I don't think either recognized us. In the decade or so we've been away from some of what grew in DC lots of people have moved on- not surprising, but interesting, in that there are so FEW left.

I spent the night before polishing Sir's boots to a nice shine, so he woke up to them in the morning. It seemed to make him happy. For me, on some level, it's just what I do, but on another level, I take a certain pride in doing these things and doing them well for him. It sort of occurred to me at some point, as I was working with the saddle soap, that even were another girl come into our household and become an ongoing part of our lives, I'm not sure I want anyone other than myself working on Sir's boots. An odd thought really.

In any case, shopping at the elephant pee wasn't particularly interesting. The only high quality whips I had any interest in were at Passional's area, and honestly, were too similar to pieces we already had, and seemed "too light" to my hand. I'm really starting to wonder who's still making good solid quality whips, and whether or not they make public appearances on this coast? I'd still like to 'finish out' Sir's set, but I haven't found anyone I'd trust to get it right.

But, we found some micro panic snaps, which, size-wise struck us both as perhaps useful. I picked up an extremely basic little knife and many, many yards of "Raspberry" MFP rope, and finally some in the thinner diameter, too. We picked up more of the black pallet wrap and a couple of rolls of purple vetrap, just on good measure- replenishing supplies after the Floating World, so to speak.

So we had a nice afternoon; we wandered, we half-heartedly watched a girl experience a suckee bed for the first time, and we talked a little with the 'newcomer' volunteer with BESS, the Baltimore Education and Social Society. BESS is a little too "SSC" for my taste, but it looks like we're finally going to at least wander into a meeting and see what we make of it. It always weirds me out when someone asks "which mailing list did you hear about us on?" because, of course, that's not how I learned about the group. Turns out they're 6 years along now. They fall squarely into that time after I had left Baltimore.

Sir and I had already decided to attend their meeting on the 19th, when they are doing their 1/2 hour newcomer orientation followed by a "knifeplay 201" workshop. So I guess we'll see what we see.

One of the main things about the LF&P that struck us both? How young the crowd was. And in my case, well, how Het the crowd was- some exceptions, but not enough.