Late Summer/Early Autumn

I know, it's been a long time since I've posted. This after saying I was hoping to post more frequently. Worse, I left off on part 1 of what was to be a 3 part piece. I'll get to the rest of Floating World eventually, just not right this instant.

Sir and I have been incredibly busy as of late. I keep wanting to carve out some time to write parts 2 and 3, but ultimately other things are going by that I haven't written about out of trying to 'sit down and take the time it takes' to do those FW posts justice.

So for the moment I'm setting those aside and getting on with it, until I find time to come back to them.

Despite our hectic schedule, we did manage to attend an interesting BESS educational meeting back in August. The presentation topic was "Contracts, Collars, and Relationships." It gave us much to contemplate. I always find it interesting to hear someone who has put serious thought into how they do things and why.

The aftermath of seeing a presentation like that for us, tends to result in important discussions about our own structure and the how and why we do things the way we do, as well as how to bring further intentionality to parts of our relationship. It's probably very good for Sir to spend some time listening to others as he has seen fewer of these kinds of presentations than I have.

It's been part of my process of learning what I want and more importantly, learning how to articulate such after I figure it out. Part of good negotiations with any partner or potential partner comes down to not only knowing what you want but having the skill to speak clearly about such.

Inventories, assessments, Household protocols, petitions, contracts and other such written or verbal tools can be useful steps in finding the direction you hope to head, and refining your ability to express it to others.

Anytime I find the opportunity to look over the materials and tools others use, I usually find that time well spent. (With a few notable exceptions.)

The other major piece of news is that we've made the decision to return for Black Rose XXI at the end of the month. Several factors led to the decision, most of which, perhaps surprisingly, have little to do with Black Rose as an organization itself.

Over the Floating World, we spent most of our time in workshops relating to relationship structuring and yes to some degree workshops aimed primarily at the Master/slave dynamic.

Master and slave are not terms, nor necessarily a subculture, that resonates directly for the two of us as a way to describe our relationship. I tend to find it particularly jarring, as M/s dynamics hold very distinct Queer meanings for me, and yet I find myself in a relationship with man. I understand how so called 'het' Leather cultures utilize such (not that we consider ourselves a 'het' relationship by any stretch). But the terminology will probably always primarily hold Queer Leather associations for me, personally. Terminology aside for the moment though, Sir and I are finding many of our areas of interest overlap significantly with M/s end of things, certainly as opposed to other descriptive terminology such as D/s.

I am Sir's property/possession. We live this out our own version of 24/7. Submission is one of many components of our relationship, but not necessarily the single most important defining characteristic. Another important aspect is that we've been at this for quite some time now, long enough to settle into a relatively stable structure with set ways certain things are done.

So many of our workshop choices over FW focused less on proper singletail technique for example, and more on how we structure our lives and relationship within a Leather context.

But an events' worth of workshops focusing on such, followed by the many conversations that come in the aftermath of such sessions, over meals, late at night, etc, can lead to coming off an event somewhat emotionally exhausted if you're not careful. Fortunately, pacing ourselves was precisely what we did.

The upside has been that coming off Floating World we've been putting some intentionality towards structuring parts of our Leather Household that were a bit less defined before. Some of those conversations have also led to some good 'work' time spent together as well. Times we both treasure.

But the other side of such was that, it that led to really two things; not seeing as many workshops as we might have liked to and not seeing as many directly 'dungeon related skills' related workshops (think things along the lines of the finer details of proper skin stapling technique) as we might have liked to.

Going to BR XXI then becomes a way to attend some more 'skills-based' kinds of workshops. As it's all in one building, attending workshops or not, together or separately is certainly easy, and the dungeon is also close at hand. (I appreciate FW's arrangements for its own reasons, just as I appreciate insular events like BR for their own, they're both very different.) Finally, and perhaps most importantly it's an opportunity to spend time with others in our local community.

While we both tend to focus on our own Household, I guess I've been feeling just a little bit more social as of late, and interested in connecting with others locally. Events like BR then become a way of putting one's toe in.

Floating World II, Part 1 (Thursday and Friday)

We're back from Floating World a week now, and I'm only now settling back in enough to even begin to write about it all. We've been busy all week catching up with friends, going to meetings etc. I've spent some of this week reading what others have written about their experiences at the event. Naturally, I'm still feeling a bit 'spacey', not just from the event itself, but some of the things we did over the event, as well as some of the ways in which we're bringing parts of what we learned there and felt there home with us.

In many ways it was a really wonderful weekend for us, partially due to the event itself, and partially in that it was an important time for the two of us as well. Unlike many events where we have focused on gaining or practicing skills with tools, this ended up being a very relationship focused set of workshops for us. We didn't really make all that many of the presentation time slots offered as somewhere between eating, sleeping, and yes, fucking, we did a lot of talking and 'processing' some of what all we were seeing.

I'm not setting out to really go into great detail the about event in this as that would be a massive task, but also in that I think there are parts of the magick in the not knowing everything and every detail.

One small detail I should mention though, is that Sir doesn't always wear the token I gave him for our anniversary but through the course of the weekend, he made a point of keeping it on, reminding himself of who and what he was, and that meant a great deal to me. It's always significant to both of us when he wears the bracelet (despite him very definitely not being a jewelry person) and his steadfast not only wearing it, but enjoyment of it, meant a great deal to me.

It's been really amazing to watch him grow into who and what he is and gain confidence in such. I'm very proud of him, and this weekend, we felt very solid in many many ways. (Perhaps I'll write on that more later.)


Thursday

At home during the day, despite our best efforts we found ourselves amidst a packing ordeal and the gravity well that home sometimes can be. It took us much longer to get out than either of us intended. (While it was both of us, in this case I readily take the blame.) It was not the start we had hoped for.

We had made a point of getting in Thursday evening so we'd have a little time to settle in. In the end, we found ourselves in actuality getting in late Thursday due to ongoing road destruction, but then avoiding as best we can getting ensnared in road destruction appears to be another Floating World tradition of ours.

We settled into the host hotel (this year we had decided to stay at the main hotel), I unpacked, wiped the boots one last time and read a little before finally turning in. Even though we were both excited we both managed to get a good night's sleep before the event was really in full swing.


Friday

The next morning we got up and headed out for a good breakfast with lots of coffee before the first workshop at 2pm. The vendor's room was not open Friday so we focused on workshops and time together instead.

The first session was a presenter I had seen last year at Black Rose XX, but Sir hadn't so we went together so as to compare notes later. I think he got a bit more out of it than I, but that was fine. I took plenty of notes and found myself settling in. The topic at hand was moving from a BDSM centered relationship to a Master/slave based relationship.

I think for a lot of people they find a starting place and after a time come to one form or another of 'there must be more than this'-ism. The coming to plateaus and trying to find new ways of living it MORE or DEEPER is something I frequently find more of in the het leather community. (Although the session presenter himself was certainly not straight.)

This may be one place where being Queer Leather sort of made it a bit easier for many of us in that we have had role models living out forms of an M/s dynamic around us almost from wherever we started. Even the brief interludes in (mainly Gay) Leather bars and clubs I managed to occasionally be accepted in, being surrounded by and having as friends day to day living breathing examples of both Masters and slaves living out their respective roles was in some ways commonplace.

It's also worth noting that I'm glad to see Sir having an opportunity to hear more Queer voices in this. It helps him understand the culture I come from, and see in living practice some of the traditions and strengths of those who having already crossed certain thresholds at times find crossing some Leather thresholds as a 'second coming out' that much the easier for it. It is very easy for me to find presenters coming at it from some variation on a male/female dynamic, it is less easy to find spaces and events wherein Sir can intentionally expose himself to Queer Leather voices and traditions.

One of the things I've come to treasure most about the Floating World events is the cross pollination between communities, presenters, and perspectives. I consider it one of the event's core strengths. It is also part of what makes it one of the more comfortable events for me personally, in that in certain ways I end up difficult to categorize, and Leather spaces that enable such, to their very core definition, can be few and far between.

The second session ended up being my mistake. Not in that the presenter was a mistake, but in that I had intended to end up at the workshop that later went on to become the focus of some external attention. I was interested in attending not in that it's my particular kink, but in that I am interested in how we as a 'community' however loosely that may be defined are handling some of the broader cultural issues involved. (Those who know what I'm talking about know what I'm talking about, those who don't, well, so be it.)

Instead we ended up in a sensory deprivation workshop, which while pretty much review for us, was probably one of the few more dungeon practical workshops we made it to all weekend. Surprisingly, we attended very little by way of dungeon tools related sessions this year. By the end of the weekend I was feeling a little annoyed in that I do go to these events to learn skills and techniques as well as about structuring relationships and interpersonal dynamics and I was beginning to feel that lack of balance in what we were attending. This is one of the reasons we are now beginning to contemplating attending Black Rose this fall, no decision has been made on that front yet though.

Missing the intended presentation was likely a result of neither of us having spent time studying the schedule in depth in advance. I had looked over the workshops and presenters and I knew what all I hoped to see, but I had not had time to study the schedule itself in advance.

I'm still kind of kicking myself, but this is perhaps the primary 'problem' I have with the Floating World, there's simply too much good stuff going on all at once. There are easily sessions where I want to be in three or even four presentations at once. When in doubt, I try to choose things I haven't seen before, presenters I haven't seen before, and topics that I hope will stretch me or provide me with new perspectives to ponder.

The other psuedo 'problem' we also run into is scheduling meals. We tend to have those deep discussions over meals during events and utilize such as time to sort of compare reactions to what we've just seen. While we could just grab something simple on site, or nearby, we find we enjoy the event more when we actually take the time to step back, get a good meal, and 'process' at least some of the details between one set of several sessions and the next. So we sometimes find ourselves sacrificing presentations or presenters we want to see to fit that food, sleep, sex and processing around such (although be sure to note, those are definitely not in order of priority!). As the Floating World often doesn't particularly schedule a meal break, we make difficult choices as to what gets sacrificed, for this year anyway. With luck we may be able to catch similar next year or at another event elsewhere.

So we spent Friday evening over a nice dinner, talking about some of how, no we aren't people who do this at only events or on weekends or sometimes, this is our lives, yet at the same time we don't utilize some of the linguistic cues others who also live as Owners and property do. Nor do we utilize the constant ritual forms, although we certainly have our own daily rituals. Our protocols are often unwritten but there none-the-less. Our life together up to this point has made much of that very complicated in that with the travel and all, we often don't have the consistency others find helps structure their relationships.

It's possible that straightforward predictable 9-5 jobs are far more conducive to these forms of structured relationships than our lives. Not that what we live is in any way 'not ok' (I certainly wouldn't trade such) but in that it takes a certain flexibility and willingness to adapt as as schedules fluctuate. It can take a great deal of intent and focus to maintain not only the symbols and actions, but more importantly the headspace to live it out.

Now all these years in, we're beginning to quantify some of what it is we're doing and formalize parts of it that before now have perhaps not been as explicit precisely due to that schedule instability. Mainly though, we're both very aware of how in so many ways we are already living out so much despite the ever changing nature of our time together. This was to become an ongoing theme for us through parts of the weekend, that yes, we are doing certain things very successfully, though it may not always feel like such at the time. And those realizations also led to some very real confidence in what we're doing and how it works for us.

So we try to make time to talk about what we're seeing together, while also trying to pace ourselves so we can enjoy a fair amount of the weekend. By the end of the event, I sometimes feel I've missed a great deal, but neither of us are really up for going full bore, I don't think we'd get as much out of the events if we did.

Much as every time I turned around I saw another shuttle van (at the hotels at the venue, etc) we ended up taking our own vehicle back and forth if only in that it makes those trips out a little bit faster sometimes. That said, I think the shuttles are really fantastic, and had I been on my own a bit more over the weekend, I probably would have utilized them to get over to another workshop or two where Sir could have caught up with me later.

Later on Friday evening, we wandered the meet and greet just a little and I spent a little time at the Queer &LGBT meet-n-greet. There are still times and places I'm somewhat reserved in these spaces, particularly with people I don't know, but I did spend some time speaking with a very lovely couple, and there was appropriate oooooooooing and aaaaaaahing over some incredible tattoo work. In time though, I decided to head on out.

While Sir and I could have explored the Master/slave meet-n-greet, that isn't quite it either. It's not language we utilize, and not quite the way we structure our relationship, although we are finding that the M/s community is where we're most likely to find people discussing many of the issues and finer points that we end up on as well.

In the end, we went up to our room, fell into bed together and spent a little over an hour enjoying some rough sex. Sir pulled my hair and held me in place and took. It was exactly what I needed.

I don't know whether this was more a reflection of some of the conversations we had been having or more the feeling of freedom wherein in these times and spaces, being ourselves is perfectly natural. All I know is we felt close to one another and wanted each other and that at the time it was more important than anything else going on.

Later, we rushed through the shower and headed back for the final workshop session of the evening. Being late night people ourselves, the idea of a 10:30-midnight session was fine by us. I wish more events would begin to realize not everyone is all that interested at 9am sessions.

In any case, we decided on Lee Harrington's workshop on "alternative" relationship structures, and some of the language and concepts behind such. We had first seen Lee at the Ohio Leather Fest many years ago and really enjoyed the presentations. Being somewhat of a language wonk myself, I enjoyed this one as well.

One of the main points we came away from the session with, which was very much along the lines of our own thinking, is that whatever you are, however you identify, one of the important aspects of such is a form of intentionality about such. Be who you are, and know what you are, and how that lends itself to being able to better articulate what you are looking for and what your needs and wants are.

I also thought he did an excellent job of pulling apart jealousy and envy in poly relationships, and how a careful examination of the language used and why can lead to differing solutions. Saying what you really mean can help untangle some of those issues and get to the core of what it is you really need.

Afterwards we spent a little time in the massive dungeon space but decided to head back to the hotel to spend some time together instead.

Apparently I never got around to writing about it, but over last year's event, we had come back one evening and spent some time doing some beautiful and intense sensory deprivation training. It was a very important part of the event last year, to me at least, and was a memory I treasured from that first event.

This year, we came back to the room and Sir gave me another gift of an evening, hearkening back to that special memory. It was precisely the right way to begin the event, and by the time we both fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, I think we were both very glad we had decided to make the trip.

Collars of leather and a 'collar' of metal

Earlier this month, on the fifth, we celebrated our two year anniversary of Sir having placed his metal 'collar' of sorts on me. I've worn his titanium band about my right wrist for all but one afternoon of the last two years.

I've written about the band and its significance to us before, but looking back over my earlier writings here, I realize I've never written about Sir collaring me in the first place.

For some people a 'collaring' becomes a ritual, almost akin to a wedding, complete with a ceremony, and members of their community as witnesses, etc. For us, it was a very private act.

Before we had gotten together Sir had done a work related trip to San Francisco. Over the course of his time there he made a trip to Mr. S. where he purchased some tools, including cuffs and a simple leather collar. As he describes it, on the feeling that he might be needing them eventually. On that same trip he also explored other parts of the CA coastline that years later he would bring me back to.

Going to those places together, years after his trip, showing me those places special to him was very important for us. They were places he enjoyed and thought of sharing with a partner long before we came together. To finally go there with him, and see them through his eyes, was a way of getting to know him and draw closer to him.

He did not put the collar upon me the night he first whipped me, nor did he place it around my neck soon thereafter when he came out to me and we first disappeared into a hotel suite together.

It was later, after I had come home with him and stayed at his apartment for almost an unexpected month long visit. I spent my days being his, lying across his black leather couch reading books and wearing his cuffs, waiting for him to return, or dressing and going out for walks around a nearby lake. In the evenings sometimes we would go out, other times, we spent quiet evenings home, realizing slowly how well we fit together how comfortable it was being together. How we could share a small space together yet not be in one another's way.

In love and in gratitude, I did small things, making the bed, tidying the apartment, washing dishes, and most of all, learning the small ways in which I found myself his. It was a time of massive changes in both our lives, yet somehow we had found one another.

Near the end of the month, not long before I was to return to my home, an otherwise ordinary evening changed everything for us. We had decided to eat in, Sir had cooked, which was not unusual for him. As we sat down to dinner we ended up having a discussion that amounted to (to vastly oversimplify) essentially a variation on 'eat your veggies.' Particular veggies I was certainly no fan of, and had an unfortunate 'history' with in childhood, but by the end of the meal he had convinced me to reluctantly nibble.

Ordinary as such may seem, after dinner, I found myself crying, not in that he had done something I didn't want him to, but in that I realized he was at times better for me, than I was to myself. Writing it, I suppose it sounds silly, but I had come to the realization that he was very good for me.

Being Queer, finding such in Sir, particularly so soon after the relationship with my wife ended, was in many ways very confusing. At times it all felt too soon, even as it felt so right. I was very guarded, afraid of throwing myself into someone new as some form of coping mechanism to deal with my sorrow and my loss.

Yet that month together showed me that this was more than merely a matter of grasping at someone, it somehow genuinely worked, and was growing into a relationship in its own right even as I at times hesitated, and perhaps most of all, I came to understand how much Sir genuinely cared about me and my own well being.

In that time together I had come to call him Sir, even as he felt odd about it. He had never envisioned himself as a "Sir" and did not know what to make of me calling him such. I, on the other hand, recognized almost from the beginning what he was, and what he was in relation to me. Nor did we say "I love you" back then. It took a long time before we came to that point.

But that particular evening, after I came to realize that yes, he cared deeply for me and my wellfare was when we came through to collaring me. I would be leaving soon, and no doubt the impending separation had some to do with it, but we had come to the strange realization that somehow we 'worked' together.

I laid across the bed in his bedroom and he asked me if the collar was what I wanted, if I would choose to be his? I thought for a long minute. We were less than 2 1/2 months into the relationship, it was less than a year since I had been in my previous relationship, in some ways it all felt so soon, and yet, it felt right.

I looked him in the eye and gave my assent. He placed the stiff new leather collar, a simple black band with two D rings, one at the front, and the other at the back that fit through a notch made for it around my neck. He unlocked a small padlock, slid it through the back back ring, locking the collar firmly around my throat. I slept beside him that night with his collar around my neck.

It was between the two of us, a private thing. There was no explicit detailing of what all being his would entail, to this day I think we're both still learning. But it was an absolute commitment for both of us, and I've always felt honoured to wear his collar.

The lack of 'spelling it all out' has at times been difficult, particularly for me. But whatever the hardships have been along the way, I'm still his.

After ten years together, we came to a point where it was rare for him to place the now well worn and cared for leather collar around my neck.

It can also be awkward at times. Being S/switch, it can be difficult for me to clearly signal my orientation while wearing a collar. There are times when wearing such is fully appropriate, but others when it can create confusion, not for us, but for those unfamiliar with our dynamic.

So to mark those ten years, and by way of putting a 'more permanent' collar or sorts on me, over the final Ohio Leather Fest Sir happened across the appropriate token, the locking band of titanium I now wear about my wrist. Rings on tapering fingers are removed easily by comparison. The hinged bracelet must be unlocked to be removed. I consider it a stronger commitment than a wedding ring.

Now I've worn the metal band for two years. Sir holds the key. I have an 'emergencies only' key for my own safety for when he is not present. In all, I've worn forms of his collar for close to 12 years now.

On our last trip through San Francisco, we stopped by Mr. S. and found a slightly more elaborate leather collar with a locking hasp that eventually we will have occasion for. As of yet, it waits, still unworn, for that day.

As some of you have no doubt noticed by now I often find myself writing about anniversaries and how long Sir and I have been together. I often mark the passing of time, be it the seasons, or the dates that matter only to Sir and I. Likely, it has much to do with how new all of this still is to me. I've never been in a relationship that lasted a decade before.

I sometimes see workshop presenters bios in which they remark upon having been 'in the scene' for five years or such. I can't help but feel not only the length of time I've been at this (I sometimes feel like such a dinosaur!) but also the time that Sir and I have been at this together.

Don't get me wrong, I still 'buck' plenty, and doubt, and question, and feel downright exasperated at times with some of the lack of focus or definition, but I can't imagine my life without him, and without being his. I never take that light band of metal around my wrist for granted.

Marking the anniversaries is but one way of saying I'm still aware of how special, how amazing, and how new this all is to me.

Thank you, Sir.

Listening to one's body, and responsibility for safety

So this morning in the pre-dawn Sir takes me.

"Now?"

"Now."

It's the first we've been together sexually since our recent trip. All the recent medical unpleasantness is finally behind us (it's been more a long stretched out annoyance in some ways than any one thing, per se.)

We've missed one another in that way, and we're both 'hungry' for it.

We're both absolutely mid, when he pauses ever so slightly to ask how the circulation in my feet (which happen to be straight up in the air at the time, cuffed to a strap that passes behind my neck, giving me something to both push against and relax into...) are and I lose that concentration. We were close, there was a certain focus, and then he paused to check on my safety, and I can't just pick back up again.

I blurt out something like,

"fine, fine, HARDER!"

But the moment is gone.

He, on the other hand doesn't realize anything has shifted, so we fuck, and I enjoy it, (don't underestimate that, in spite of it all) and he orgasms, and we go on.

Later, I explain to him, that while yes, it's one of those right things to do, positively textbook, actually, in circumstances like that, yes, even though I am very in the moment, I'd still alert him to a problem.

Naturally, we talk about kind of the usual nonverbal 'two squeezes or taps' (he taps, I tap back) but as he points out, whether verbal or nonverbal, either can form a stepping out of the moment. It's certainly something we have done, among other nonverbal signals, but ultimately, yes even when communicating nonverbally about such things, it does take a certain presence of mind that takes me at least out of wherever it was that I was.

That doesn't mean I didn't wander around all starry-eyed, and leaning against the furniture thereafter. But up until that point I was completely in that moment, and I was sad when he accidentally took me from it.

It's a "property-brain" thing far more than any physical effect.

When I'm fully in that mindset, I don't want 'real world things' pulling me back out of that moment. If anything, though it's hardly his fault, it feels almost like an annoyance, 'of course I'm watching that!' That's part of why I speak up when I'm 'submitting'. If my hand is going to sleep, it allows me to maintain if I bring the issue to him. If things pause while he checks or such, it can become impossible to regain.

As his, it's important that I honestly let him know what's going on, and that requires I be paying attention, and 'in my own body' enough to recognize what's going on. This does not mean, however that I don't go deep into what many call "bottomspace."

Odd thing is, rather than that responsibility pulling me 'back out', I've found ways to focus on such as a way of taking myself 'deeper'.

I don't know if other 'bottoms' articulate this often, but it is a particular skill.

Letting Sir know before my hand is cramped or asleep means an ability to work longer.

It can also have to do with not wanting damage to come to something that is his. Nerve damage etc would not only get in my own way of doing what he wants, it would also mean he would not be able to enjoy use of me in the same ways, whether that be just for a time, or more permanently.

So part of this being his, is in listening to my body.

Now, do I sometimes reach that place where I'm positively non-verbal? On a good day, with a tailwind- yes, I do.

But I don't rely only on words to bring something to Sir's attention.

If we're in sync enough, I can usually express such non-verbally, and if we're not in sync enough, that alone pretty much instantly pulls me back out to a place where words can come pretty quickly. But we've been together more than a decade, now.

It probably must sound pretty odd for me to be sitting here saying 'please, no don't stop to check!' but that's precisely where I find myself.

But it's by no means a universal, it's just a dynamic the two of us in relation to one another seem to have reached.

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.

Travel and household notes

It's been a bit since I last posted. I've been quite busy.

Sir and I are just back from three days out at the Shore, a micro vacation of sorts. Days of lazily enjoying the beach, nights of rather intense lovemaking. All in all, I've come home very relaxed and happy, that post good sex glow that seems to leave me floating through the day or days after.

We had originally intended to spend some time out at the beach working with some rope. Books to study and be inspired by and hemp were packed, all set. But we never quite got around to it. No doubt we'll find some time to 'practice' before Shibaricon, it's just these particular days had a different flavour to them- more spontaneous.

That said, several potentially rope related good things have finally come together here around the household. The first being some years ago we had purchased a cast iron bed frame with the original intent being that it would be for a bedroom area off a 'dungeon' sort of area. Well, that part of the house got 'commandeered' for other projects so to this day, we are rather 'dungeonless'. The bed frame sat, still in boxes for years, (in no small part probably due to the fact that the other beds around the house are four posters.)

Instead of waiting for everything to come together the way I wanted, I finally simply decided I'd rather have it up than in boxes, so the bed frame has now been added to a bed already in a spare bedroom. Why all the fuss? Tie points/anchor points. The bed frame is rock solid and a perfect 'canvas' to do rope work with.

While it may not be up in its final home, (wherever that will turn out to be,) it is a small step towards 'not waiting anymore'. That feels good.

The second potentially rope related bit of furniture has just arrived. After Floating World last year Sir and I sort of had an ongoing discussion about furniture, frames, structures, etc. As our primary work space is a bedroom, we've had to try to come to compromises about tools staying out, the advantages of things being close at hand, vs. tools being carefully stored in a very organized fashion for easy access. Structures have taken a bit of thought.

So for a first real piece of 'dungeon' related furniture, we've settled on a thermal and thickly padded top portable massage table. It folds away when we want it to, but quickly sets up and is wonderfully solid. We can lower it down to 24" if we choose, and it has plenty of good attachment points for rope or other such bonds.

Essentially, it will serve as a solid platform for everything from rope work to cuttings, canings to floggings. I often find I can take more lying down than standing bound to a frame. Lying down helps the muscles relax more, and it can be more comfortable for Sir as gravity does some of the work. Also lying down can protect against some forms of wrap (not that we seem to have a problem with such, I just thought I'd mention it for readers.)

So we have new bits of structure to try out. I'm excited to see what predicaments Sir's creativity puts me in.

In a final bit of news, we've registered for Floating World (II) in August. It's months away, but we're already looking forward to it!

When there are no words

Last Tuesday evening. I'm ready for bed but Sir is still quite awake. I ask him to tuck me in.

Sir surprises me.

We're trying to be a bit more intentional about some of our small rituals, trying to take time out of our all too often busy lives to make time for the building of habits and small gestures that in many ways reinforce the 'us'.

For many in the Leather community such come perfectly naturally.

When I am the Dominant partner in a relationship, for example, I live sleep eat breathe rituals; everything from morning coffee rituals to how my girl enters a room, or dresses. I suppose you could say I'm highly demanding when it comes to protocols.

Yet when I find myself on the other end of the power dynamic, well, I often end up feeling somewhat adrift. Unfortunately, particularly with Sir, as clear articulations and demands upon me are often in short supply.

In our relationship I am "property" to him, yet we have few protocols.

There are many counterbalances, though, that do help me find my way. Sex with him is one of those many ways I find clarity in my position.

Thus, the simple act of tucking me into bed, every so often, at unexpected times, like Tuesday night, sometimes escalates into good hard sex. And thereafter, even though the words may not come, I do know my place and feel secure in it.

I suspect many womyn who are slaves to, or bottom to (or whatever in relation to) particular men find their Dom/Owner/Sir's lack of articulation of expectation difficult from time to time. Perhaps it's a bit more acute for me, in that I have at times both been on the 'other end' as both 'owner' of a sort, and as an at times Dominant woman's beloved.

The particular womyn I've chosen to partner with have tended to have at least some ability to spell out many of their needs. With the men in my life, Sir included, their wants and needs at times seem to fall off the edge of language, or perhaps they simply don't feel the need to use language to express them.

Either way, me being a person for whom clarity in communication is important, I sometimes find that lack of articulation deeply frustrating.

Yes, there are inarticulate about such things, (desires and details) womyn Dommes, and perfectly articulate male Doms. But that is not quite the way that has played out for me with my Sir.

So finding those times when it's somewhere other than words, but things are perfectly clear between us is very important, in that that clarity is rarely spelled out in detail between us.

In day to day life, both of us fully understand what this is and how we relate to one another, coupled with the fact that this is my life (and his), I'm not going anywhere. But finding the clarity in expression of those things at times is subtle, it's in a look, a touch, and the pulling of my hair, not necessarily words.

Thus times, such as Tuesday night, become quite precious to me.

On the importance of 'just being there'

This may seem a very pedestrian topic for a kink-blog entry, but sometimes it's the little things that are so often overlooked that matter so.

If I were asked for a list of 'duties' I perform, tasks or chores pertinent to my status as "property" I'd have to sit you down and explain at length how it's more complicated than that.

While I am in some ways submissive (and other ways, NOT), you would hardly mistake me for a 'service submissive'. That's just not the way we structure our (Leather) household. There are chores I tend to gravitate towards, and other chores Sir for the most part has staked out as what he does. There are also ongoing bits of the household that sometimes I do, sometimes he does, it's more dependent upon who happens to get sick of looking at it, and has the spare time to do something about it first.

I know, I know! Heresy! Unimaginable!

To dare even mention that Sir does household chores too? Why I must have broken at least 30 'the-one-true-way Leather Taboos!' (tm)

But our real Leather lives, unlike pulp novels or oh so many online MASTER-slavelings, are real. We live them, 24-7. And that means we deal with real world real things. What often goes unstated, is that in relation to the 'chores' each of us take on, the other does feel a sense of gratitude. Sometimes we express such, but usually, it lies just beneath the surface, each of us quietly aware that the things the other does for us help us, and make our lives as we live them together not merely easier, but in certain bedrock kinds of ways, possible. While not an egalitarian household, at times, it does share certain resemblances to a Leather 'partnership' of sorts. It's what works for us.

That said, I do make a point of making 'Sir's' bed.

Now that must sound odd. But as we sometimes run opposite schedules to one another, I am allowed my own rooms in addition to the primary bedroom we share. Recently, no matter what our sleep schedules may be, I've made a point of ensuring that when Sir comes up to bed, it's a neatly made bed.

That may sound perfectly obvious, and the kind of habit some people got in back when they were oh, say, 5, but for the two of us, living on our own as we do together, we tend to simply get up and hit the ground running and then tumble into bed at night.

If the downstairs is the at times more 'public' part of the household, the upstairs is more a private sanctuary. I suppose we're quite Victorian in that sense. The parlour is a place where our household intersects with the external world, the upstairs bedrooms are private spaces.

So I make the bed.

It was the first piece of furniture we bought together for the house, a big four poster King sized bed, (an updated) comfy mattress, and padding and sheets we picked out together, as a couple, when we were just beginning. We brought the bed home and assembled it ourselves. Some couples buy couches together first, we selected and assembled the bed.

And when we're home, not traveling, I tend to carve out the laundry as a part of my ongoing routine. Just as womyn for generations before me have cared for, mended, and laundered their beloved's clothing, I too, try to ensure, as one presenter at the Floating World last Autumn used as an example, when my Sir goes to reach for an item of clothing, it should 'just be there'.

What marks us as different, perhaps, is that when we do travel, (which is to say frequently,) while I may sort the piles, Sir himself tends to run the laundry. Sometimes I fold, sometimes we fold together.

But the laundry is simply part of the rhythm of that which needs to be attended to. Sometimes the ongoing 'chores' are less 'choreful' and simply part of that which must be done. At times, it's even possible to gain a certain satisfaction, or feeling that things are 'running well' based upon the ongoing rhythm of ensuring things are 'there when you reach for them'. I find it leads to more of a household sense of well-being, confidence, and yes, even control.

When things pile up and feel overwhelming, it lends itself to a things being 'out of control' sensation. Conversely, when things are simply where they're supposed to be, whether it's laundry or dishes, or mail sorted and filed it leads to a certain ease, comfort and sensation of things being 'under control'.

From that 'under control' springs a certain confidence in both of us.

Which yes, leads me back around full circle to sex-blogging. In that one of the very few 'duties' I perform, tasks or chores pertinent to my status as "property" is that of being sexually available to my Sir.

That when he reaches for me, I too am at hand, exactly where I should be. Physically, psychologically, etc.

(While yes, there is absolutely, a blog entry -or 20- in what being self described "property" means in my context, that being a Radical Feminist context, American legal context, etc, that's not about to happen today.)

At any time, I feel I could say "no" or "not right now", but in practice I next to never do (other than sometimes, when I'm still mostly asleep, and not thinking very clearly at the time.) Having the ability to say "no" (which is actually more a 'raincheck' than a "no",) that freedom to say "no", is part of what makes it secure and a confident "yes".

That may not be the way some Leather lovers arrange their relationships, but again, this is what works for us. We're both reasonably aware that when it comes down to it, I pretty much only say "no" in relation to extenuating, usually physical, circumstances.

In part, how we define some of my "duties" in this relationship are to be His, anytime, with the one caveat that communication of any extenuating circumstance is an inherent to such.

So last night, he both enjoyed me, and a well made bed.

This morning, I smile to myself with the satisfaction that things are 'running well'.

***

(Now, have I just equated sex to housework? Perhaps... if you really feel you MUST take it that way, but what I'm really referring to is the satisfaction of behind the scenes work, -yes at times good, hard work with one's hands with very quantifiable results- that goes into making parts of life feel 'effortless' and how such for us at least, tends to lead to the sense of well being and 'control' which can be at times so vital to our Leather/BDSM lives. It's a topic I see very little written about, particularly in your average 'how to Leather' books, yet it has everything to do with how we live this out 24-7.)

On purely subjective delineations

Been meaning to write here for a couple of days now, since Tuesday actually.

Monday night was very special for us.

I've been being very careful with my fresh piercings, giving them the ongoing cleaning attention, but not unnecessary attention (i.e. fiddling with them, which would only increase the odds of infection.) And generally taking time to heal.

Which is not to say I'm completely healed by any means, just that I've been being careful and taking good care of myself. While I know new piercings can have their ups and downs, these have gone incredibly well so far.

Yes, I know I haven't even really written the REAL post about getting pierced yet. I suppose I'll get there eventually.

In any case, Monday night the rational part of my brain was saying that so long as we went gently (and used a condom and water based lube) and stopped or eased up if I was experiencing any pain, then sex should be alright by now, my body was 'feeling up to it'. On the other hand, the less than rational part of my brain was inevitably screaming "SEX! NOW!"

So late Monday night, we fell into bed together.

Naturally, Sir was also being cautious and careful, but I was not merely 'doing fine', I was well, discovering what sex with rings through my labia felt like. (As, was he.)

At times, it felt the way sex without rings feels like. But then at other times, I was AWARE. Not in a bad or painful way at all, just in a 'very paying attention to my body' kind of way.

I've no idea whether it was the addition of the new hardware, the feeling of being so completely His, or 'merely' the intervening roughly month and a half without penetrative sex with a partner, whether it was any one of the above, or a combination of several that led to me cumming so quickly. All I know is that afterwards I felt very happy.

And very close to him in ways I hadn't before we had the rings placed through me.

Sure, that part is all subjective and psychological on my part. No argument there. But if part of the reason to do such is the psychological changes that occur, well I consider that valid reason enough.

Non-kinky people may not feel they understand that. But if they've ever constructed a purely subjective delineation betwixt sex inside or external to marriage they've probably felt something similar.

As has often been said, the strongest of the sex organs is the one between your two ears.

Winter Fetish Fair Fleamarket XXX

So the Flea is over, and we've headed on.

It had its moments, both good and well, to be perfectly frank, rather pathetic.

In the positive column; , stumbling across an old friend, spending a few brief minutes in the bullwhip lounge, interesting discussions between Sir and I sparked by workshops we went to, silk, flax, and hemp ropes, a new singletail, and even some new leather, (for later, that I've not earned yet), and a major 'plus', Providence, Rhode Island and the hotels, convention center, etc.

A good hotel experience can go a long way towards serving as a bulwark against not such good parts of an event. Providence itself was also a real win, and doubly so in light of the Fetish Fair Flea's previous experiences in Massachusetts.

By way of a middle column, somewhere between positives and negatives, or more accurately as a mix of both, we were fortunate enough to be able to attend all three of Midori's workshops; "Asian Rituals for Western Lovers", "Bondage Outside the Box", and "Make 'em Blush, Make 'em Squirm: Erotic Humiliation Play". All three were useful in terms of some of the conversations Sir and I ended up having, both good and bad.

But part of the real 'mixed bag'-ness of the three workshops was the 'massive herd' mentality that led to long lines to get in, tons of people, and naturally, the settings the workshops were in provided very few seats that actually afforded full views of what was going on. Thus, most audience members heard the presentations but could not see much of what was happening. Such could have been avoided in several ways, but for each of the three workshops, the same scenario played out.

In the negative column; certain aspects of some of the presentations, Some of the ways 'pros' were just woven through the event (in not so good ways), poorly woven whip handles, and I suppose my personal 'low' award for the event- a presenter who couldn't be bothered to show up on time for her own workshop due to... broken nails and an emergency quest for a manicurist. This from a woman whose website says, and I quote "don't waste my time", perhaps she might consider taking her own advice. (I've no qualms about naming names, as the workshop and presenter was publicly available on the FFF XXX website- "Mistress LunaSea")

Now I've seen everything. Suffice it to say, we felt no need to 'bottom' to her by waiting around to see whether or not she'd show up- so in the end I've no idea whether any form of the workshop managed to go forward or not, if it did, it went forward late and without us.

No presenter should ever need be tracked down by the event organizers AFTER the time their workshop was due to start, only to be reminded they had a workshop. D'oh. No, I wasn't impressed.

Sir and I also intentionally wandered into the 101 style "BDSM for beginners" for a number of reasons, not the least of which being trying to understand the 'intake path' many of today's newcomers are experiencing. (By way of readily admitting my own biases here, I've taught 101 workshops in the past.) I may or may not eventually get to writing about such, but for the time being, simply consider this another tidbit we both felt best deserved the negative column- and unfortunately the ramifications of such will continue to echo forward. More so still, in that this particular presentation has been an entry point for people in many times and places.

If I sound cynical and somewhat jaded, it's only because in some ways, I most certainly am.

On the other hand, as we somehow almost always seem to, Sir and I still managed to make some very high quality "us" time, which makes even broken nail absurdity somehow not only bearable, but something I'm just able to dismiss as the pathetic current state of affairs in some corners of 'The Scene'.

While I'm still glad I went, I am not sure I'd feel the need to return in the near future. That may be more a reflection of where Sir and I stand, though. The workshops we attended in many ways felt very 'beginner', and most of what was available at the market itself were things, and often dealers that in our travels we had seen over and over. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but for us, either visiting the brick and mortar stores when possible, or using online ordering takes care of most of what we would want from such.

Fortunately, though, there was the happy exception or two. I spend time at marketplaces like this looking for the unique, the unusual, and the custom. Radiance Bound for example was doing some lovely metallic work, very appropriate to formal Leather occasions, and some of Madame Butterfly's handmade silk rope came home with us.

The final thing to note about the FFF is that for 'outsiders' (those from out of New England for example), there is no main dungeon or 'play party' as part of the event, so what goes on, usually happens via pre-existing loose networks of friends or NE Leather organizations in private spaces. Without an 'in', you'll have to resort to a private evening in your own hotel room.

While this was absolutely fine for Sir and I (and yes, had we wanted to attend a party, that could have been arranged, we were not interested in such, this time, anyway) other people may find the 'barriers to entry' a bit high. It would be better to get to know people and build ties to organizations prior to the event if gaining an invitation to a party is important to you.



*** Addendum- there was an article Sunday in the Providence Journal- "Sex-Toy Trade Show Sports a Global Face".

I'm not altogether sure quite what I make of the article's angle, the 'sex toy biz'/"trade show", but apparently that was how the Journal understood the event. Clearly, they missed the fact that while the shopping is a major part of the event, what with being in the name and all, the real action had little to do with vendors. Most participants spent time in workshops or in hotel rooms practicing said newly acquired skills.

To simplify the flea down to a story about the American vs. Chinese sex toy industry and label the event a 'trade show' was just, well bizarro-world, though it certainly says a great deal about how 'outsiders' sometimes see us or comprehend us.

Rings!

So I'm VERY happily wearing new rings in new piercings at the moment.

Sir's rings, holes in relation to Sir. Over a decade in the timing.

I am deeply honoured.

(No folks, this is not the real post about the piercings, it's more of just a placeholder until I get there, but friends wanted to know.)

Inner labia, not my outer, thanks to my anatomy- but all things considered, it's a good thing- less pain, shorter healing time, the jewelry I wanted, far less likely to migrate and lose the piercings, all good reasons.

I now wear two twelve gauge 3/8" implant grade surgical steel captive bead rings.

Yes, it was painful- very painful.

But the experience itself was more than even I had hoped for. I'm incredibly glad I did it where I did with who I did it with- it made all the difference. (I'll get there in the real post.)

Most importantly though, when it was all over, and we were home, and Sir was tucking me into bed, he said the thing I had been waiting to hear-

"I felt like I was very much a part of it, like a participant in it."

Which was not only very important to me, it also reflected the way I felt about him having been there with me- this was about US, and fortunately, that was exactly the way it worked out, very US.

It was the coming to fruition of a lot of things we have both been working towards for a very long time now. When we finally came to it, everything just 'came together'. Thing is, I can't decide whether it was worth the wait, or something we should have done years ago. Either way, the actually doing of it, I wouldn't have done differently. It was in the end, simply right.

Thank you Sir!

Wuzzle!

Piercings

In less than 48 hours, if all goes according to plan, I'll be wearing two new rings through me. And yes, I can barely contain the slightly nervous excitement.

This has been a long time coming, more than a decade, in fact.

Until now every 'modification' I've done to my body has been in relation to me, myself. I have a previous piercing, done over the Stonewall 25 celebration in New York at the National Leather Conference, by Gauntlet New York. And that is a story unto itself. I had both done very specifically for me, and purely about me.

For a number of years, even as Sir and I were first getting together, I wore a Red Tiger's Eye bead in my pierce, and that stone was in relation to Herself. But on Sir and my first trip to San Francisco, all those years ago, the stone was given to the Pacific near the Golden Gate Bridge (in part because I had no way to return it to her at the time.)

But I'm a little ahead of myself. In San Francisco, we went to Gauntlet (SF), and had the old ring and stone taken out and replaced by a new ring with a Fire Opal captive bead- (an 'engagement ring' of sorts, though I didn't realize it at the time,) from my Sir, which I wear to this day. Then we drove up above the Golden Gate, released the tiger's eye to the Pacific, and it was then that he proposed to me. Now, going on 11 years later, we are not married, we're both deeply conflicted about the institution as such, but for us, the commitment to one another, and desire to be together was what mattered far more than whether or not a ritual was forthcoming.

So the Fire Opal ring, in my clit hood piercing holds a lot of meaning to me. That hood piercing has held symbols or tokens from two of what are arguably three of the most important people in my life. But the hole itself was about me, and was done at a particular moment in my own life.

I've never had holes put through me in relation to another person, and now that's about to change.

These two new holes and rings, will be specifically about Sir. Symbolizing his ownership and control as we move into our second decade together. For the first time in my life I chose to wear these in relation to my partner. For both of us, this is a very large step.

We've been talking about piercings and rings for more than a decade. I even have a previous set of jewelry from ten years ago, that's been sitting. I don't know if those particular rings will ever be worn or not, but our intent has been there for a long time.

I suppose you could say we had a lot of work to do before we could finally get to this point.

If all goes according to plan, these two will be the first of ten through my outer labia. Getting to all ten will take some years. We may space the piercings out even further as each pair of piercings is going to mean some 'down time' an immediate period without that form of sex, and a longer time meaning no baths! (Argh!) Healing each is going to take many months, and then of course, we're going to want some time to enjoy before we start the next pair.

So Monday marks the beginning of a long process.

On one hand I can't wait, on the other, I'm nervous, and needle phobic and no fan of pain without some real warm up first, but this is what it's going to take, and I want Sir's rings. So I'll do what I must.

After my 'Stonewall piercing' my dear friend took me out, along with a hoard of other Leatherfolk to South Street Seaport to find and share some 'flights' of excellent ports. After a rowdy and dreamy evening, we were swept along home in a taxi, across the Brooklyn Bridge under a beautiful moon, off to a brownstone in Park Slope. Getting up three flights of stairs have never felt so amazing in my life.

I know Monday I will be 'flying' too. Sir will care for me, and let me soar all the way home as we leave on our road trip not long after the appointment. All I need to do is sit quietly in the front seat, and let Sir take me home. His.

Caning

So last night.

Which actually began somewhat earlier on, as Sir slid His leather collar around my neck and locked it. This was followed by several hours of running about doing the things I ordinarily do in the course of any ordinary day.

Yes, we COULD have spent the evening decorating the Yule tree. Instead, we decided to fit in some "us" time, as the next few weeks are going to be very hectic, and we should steal away what little pockets of unhurried time we can when we can. If nothing else, "us" time is a very healthy way of mitigating holiday related stresses.

So early (for us, anyway) in the evening we headed upstairs. Not long thereafter he had me secured across the bed in a happy mesh of tools that amount to sort of human 'tinker toy' sprawl; long leather bondage 'mittens' that come up almost to my elbows locked on with shiny little chrome locks, ankle cuffs, leather tethers, spreader bars artfully placed, and a handful of caribineers and clips. Suffice it to say, by the end of his arranging, I wasn't going anywhere.

Once I was little more than a useful target, he selected a few of his favourite whips and 'had at' me. (Herein I'm afraid some of the details blur a bit, but happily so.) I do however, clearly remember the sharp cutting sting of the horsehair, and the jarring THUDs of the big black Moose flogger. Fortunately, there was little I could do other than 'take it', and enjoy it immensely.

Eventually, he set the floggers aside and I encouraged him to fetch a particular slapper/crop as marks were what he seemed intent upon, and that particular tool provides a great amount of precision and control. This led to its own fun (but regrettably, no marks the following day.)

But then, in a fit of being wildly unpredictable, his hand settled upon one of the bamboo canes. This was new. He's used artificial canes on me before, delrin, and lexan, but some of the pieces I've been picking up recently, rattan and bamboo, no, he hadn't used those on me before.

(Sure I've had bamboo and rattan close at hand for quite some time now, but recently I've been picking up some more, flexible rattan canes, and a lovely little whisk of birch, which I thank my lucky stars hadn't been soaked the half hour before, last night.)

So he let me see what I was in for, the bamboo, and I yelped, honestly, completely innocently

"But, ... those are for GIRLS!...

Oh, wait...!"

(The space between the two broken sentences was the time it took for me to come to my own frightening realization; 'I'M A GIRL! Eeeek!')

Honestly, I didn't see the connection- until of course, I did.

Ah, the many joys of being a S/switch and picking up toys for some later use, only to eep! find them used upon me when I expect it least.

Sir is nothing if not devious.

So this resulted in me being released, bent over the edge of the bed, and playing human target as Sir got the feel of new tools. (Lest anyone worry, Sir has damn good aim, and had certainly picked these up before using them upon me.) At the time, the pain was exactly the pain of a good 'first time out with a new tool' caning, the sensation so unique to caning; a sharpness, then the moments of feeling the blow moving deep under the skin, and then the pain 'blooming' slowly after each stroke.

None of the strokes were so hard as to actually leave a mark that lasted through 'til this morning, but I certainly had that tender/bruised feeling long after. Caning provides a certain sense of clarity, and being fully in the moment that few other tools give. Timing is everything, and giving each stroke the time it takes to develop and for me to process it creates a rhythm.

Eventually, we agreed to end with three solid strokes, which expanded quite happily into five.

Now for some people, these kinds of activities form a sort of foreplay, which leads into sex. For other people, doing such may be the point in and of itself, and therefore sex becomes irrelevant to such altogether.

Sometimes we find ourselves fitting under that latter category wherein the work is the work and sex just is extraneous to what we're doing. Usually, though, Sir and I do what we do, and extend that power and control and pain and ownership into our sex at some point in the course of what we're doing.

So while still very much in the state of mind I was in, Sir rubbed my (sadly more temporary than I would have liked) red marks and that lead into hard rough sex.

Later he tucked me into bed, got out some of the shall we say, more 'internal' tools (cold stainless steel to be specific), and spent a bit of time touching me before he finally left me to drift off to sleep.

I suppose this last bit is important to note in that there is a very real possibility that there will be some new piercings in the very near future, and obviously, fresh piercings require a certain gentleness that (happily) last night lacked.

This time of year for most ""visions of sugar plums dance(d) in their heads." For me? Well, I suppose you could say I'm dreaming of a pierced Yuletide.

Just a quickee update from BRXX

Well, there's the event itself, and then there's Sir and I and the time we're spending together. Eventually I may write about some of it (and I might even back up and write a post about the other amazing evening I alluded to here earlier.)

But for the moment, it's Sunday, the last of the workshops have ended, and all that's left is the final dungeon and party. We decided to stay the extra night, so we're still here. The event is slowly winding down, and at midnight, we'll all disappear off to our rooms to eek out whatever we can before checking out tomorrow, leaving what's left to the staff and volunteers to load and finish.

As with every event, major THANK YOUs go out to those who work so hard to make it all possible.

For us, it's mostly been a good weekend, ideas to chew on, and a real milestone; Sir cut me with a knife last night for the first time. It's not only the first time he's cut me, it's the first time he's cut anyone. My right shoulder hurts in the most wonderful of ways, and I'm wearing his marks.

In that alone, I am so happy.

(And in such a headspace!) I'm deeply honoured.

So for that alone, I'll always remember BR XX. Important things happened between us here.

Perhaps I'll try to take a stab at writing the real post later, after we're home.

Last night

Unreal.

I~love~Sir.

Our anniversary

So as of this weekend, Sir and I have been together 11 years.

That's an accomplishment.

Not just 'together', but having done things like traveling together, overland for months at a time, over and over again, and no, not killed one another. If anything, we travel well together. We spend much more time together than most couples, and yet, it really works. Even I marvel at it sometimes. Most of the time, though, we're so in the midst of living it that we don't stop and think about it.

We came together at a 'play' party that was being held over the course of a sci-fi con 11 years ago. Although that particular weekend, I have the feeling we were both pretty much there for the party far more the con itself.

I'd known him before that, as a friend. Well, even that's somewhat complicated to explain, I suppose the simple version is we have an 'ex' in common. He was her partner for a time, and she was a dear friend of mine I had slept with. They had come to an end by the time he and I finally got together. But she was an important part of that evening that we got together. It was due to their previous relationship and her having spoken to me about their time together that I felt I could trust him.

Ironically, about the last thing I was looking for that particular evening was any kind of ongoing relationship, let alone life partner, certainly not a Sir. But of course, at the time, he didn't identify as a Sir, and that's part of what made everything possible.

In any case, our coming together is a long complicated saga unto itself, and not what I'm trying to write this evening.

What I did want to write about was Saturday morning. In the wee hours, before the sun came up, and just before the moon was full, I gave Sir a token of sorts.

As he has placed a titanium bracelet around my right wrist as a sort of 'collar' that can always be worn I wanted to give him a symbol of his ownership as well. No, not as a form of reciprocity, or as an always worn item, just as a tangible token from me to him.

This weekend does not mark the anniversary of the collar, but it marks the anniversary of our coming together, the beginning of our relationship, and it was that that I wanted to celebrate. The symbolism of the collar goes to the very core of our relationship, my submission to him and trust in him was where we began.

Deciding on precisely what tangible token would be most appropriate was somewhat difficult. Sir is not a jewelry person.

He appreciates the band I wear on many levels, one of which being its "machined" quality and the nearly seamless visual it presents to first glance. It is solid, and hinged, its locking mechanism appears as nothing more than a small black dot on the side. The cuff is smooth, and brushed metal, and 'heavy', (in as much as titanium is, anyway.)

The more I thought about it, was the more I realized that his 'not a jewelry person'-ness was part of what made a bracelet of his own (for his left wrist, naturally) the correct choice, in that he would only wear it sometimes. After searching, I found what I was looking for, a carefully milled brushed titanium piece that in some ways is a matching 'opposite' to the one I wear.

The piece I found for him is openwork, and a series of articulated links, it has a perfectly integrated clasp, easily undone. His is slightly more narrow than the symbol I wear, making it seem lighter, but still very masculine.

If what I wear could be mistaken for a piece of modern brushed metal jewelry, his could could be mistaken for a fancy watchband, sans watch of course.

So there, in the waxing moonlight, almost coming to fullness, I presented him with my small gift. Naturally, he understood it, what it meant, its importance, immediately. And perhaps a bit surprisingly, he actually liked it.

So I wear his band, at his will. I don't cognize the piece of metal about my wrist "mine". I may 'slip' and refer to the two as "mine" and his for clarity's sake, but ultimately, I view them both as his. I certainly wouldn't call the band he wears "mine" or as in any way marking him as mine. It is more a symbol of the fact that I am grateful for the honour of wearing his collar every day of my life. I take none of this for granted.

This past decade has been some of the best years of my life.

We are not married, and to be honest we are both deeply conflicted over the idea of marriage, (despite the fact that we have come to a place where it is being seriously considered) but his collar means more to me than perhaps a wedding ring would.

A wedding ring, for us, would in many ways be about State recognition of our pre-existing. The collar (which for daily purposes I wear on my right wrist) is a huge portion of that pre-existing. It is an integral part of our relationship, and thing without which I am unsure whether our relationship would be. It is about his ownership and responsibility and my relationship to that and to him.

The collar was hard won, and earned. For us, it symbolizes a lifelong commitment to one another, reguardless of whether we are together as a couple or not. I am deeply honoured and proud to be allowed to wear it.

My gift to him was just a small ways of saying so. A way of saying I never forget what it is to wear his symbol.

As for other ways of marking the anniversary, in some ways, they will have to wait. This week is a bit crazy for us, what with preparations for BRXX as well as the rest of our day to day lives, but we both know we will eventually make some real time for us. Probably some over the course of BRXX, but also some thereafter.

I have the feeling that difficult as BRXX may turn out to be for us, at least some of it will be a time and place where we close the doors, shut the outside world away, and just really enjoy being together.

I'm looking forward to that.

My Raincheck

So, by way of 'making up for' not getting the whips out over the course of a recent event, Sir had more or less given me a 'raincheck'. Which is what we finally got around to the other morning.

Sir was up early in the morning, and after I came down he eventually headed upstairs to shower saying maybe we could get around to something thereafter. I waited downstairs and went about my morning, not sure whether to expect anything or not. Eventually he called down and told me I was to come up to him.

I came to the big bedroom (which is also sort of our 'Work' room) to find him standing inside dressed all in black with a wicked grin on his face. (Eventually, I may get to a post about the room we primarily use, but for now, it will suffice to say it's "His" room, our bedroom, and clearly his domain. I have rooms of my own as well, although they are such at his pleasure.)

I stood outside the door and undressed (as it's the room I don't wear clothing in without explicit permission, one of our few rules) then by his permission, entered.

At the foot of the bed, there's a soft black bench with low arms at each end and lots of pillows; soft golden chenille and others with a shadowed black ornate floral orchid pattern. On days such as this, it is pulled out from the end of the bed, the pillows set aside, and the bench is then covered with a soft black sheet. It's just long enough for me to lie across comfortably, my head resting on one of the arms. Four black leather straps encircled each of the bench's legs, then come up towards the left and right raised ends. Across each end, Sir had attached two of the highly polished chrome spreader bars, each the width of the bench. On the bed laid several of my favourite whips, and the four black padded leather cuffs. Without saying a word, I knew what laid in store.

He told me to come around to the bed. Then lovingly, he buckled each cuff onto my limbs, first my wrists then my ankles. He crossed the room to the toolbox compartment organizers and pulled out four of the small nickel plated padlocks, then returned to me and proceeded to lock the cuffs onto me. This little 'ritual' of sorts in and of itself is enough to get me into a mindset.

(Soft black leather and shiny polished steel is very much our aesthetic. Metal and leather. Although somewhat ironically, I have no interest in many of the metal cuffs or collars we so often see. I suppose you could say we're both rather selective about our tools.)

He kisses me, and leads me across the bench, face down. Limb by limb, he clips the cuffs onto the spreader bars leaving me unable to escape, and a ready target. He ensures I'm comfortable, then disappears over towards the rack where we keep our whips hung. I'm not blindfolded, but I'm not sure I want to know, just yet, either. So I turn my head and close my eyes, giving over to him, and what he wants.

Anyone who has ever been sensually whipped can readily identify the two primary different sensations, 'thud' and 'sting'. For me, when I'm under Sir's whips, these two have two completely different effects. 'Thuddy' makes me sink, deep into a place where I've very inarticulate, but very pliant, and welcoming suggestion. 'Stingy' on the other hand, tries to lift me off of whatever I'm securely attached to, and leaves me fighting myself, begging for it to stop, and sometimes crying. (This does NOT however mean I actually want it to stop.) Each of these are their own head (and body) trip. It takes someone with a particular sense of timing and ability to 'read' me to combine them both over the course of a brief period. Neither of these are things I entrust to people I don't know well, as both leave me very emotionally raw.

Sir is one of the few people I know who can make me change gears as it were, between the two, and still leave me in a state where I actually enjoy it. Unfortunately, it's not something I find I can do often, and it takes both of us being in a particular state of mind and comfort to actually pull it off.

In any case, without telling me that was what he was about to do, that was the state he worked me into. Working from whips that can, when used a particular way feel more akin to a good massage, on to whips that once I'm warmed up, yes I can take, even though it's a most peculiar kind of enjoyment.

Back at the Floating World, we had found a flogger made of the satin cord it seems every kinky person has worked with or made something out of at some point. Just ordinary fabric store cord carefully woven into a nicely formed handle that felt good in my hand with a bazillion purple satiny tresses. The reason it came home, though, was that each of the tips had been carefully dipped repeatedly in 'tool dip', the rubber coating for tool handles. The balance was nice, and I knew instantly that those tails would sting horribly.

Well, I was right. And THAT will teach me to pick up a tool, having it in mind for use with perhaps a pretty girl somewhere in my future. I should know better. And I should know that just as I was always taught, before you use a tool on someone else, you should have it used upon yourself, so you know, down in your bones what it's capable of. While ultimately, of course I'm fine with all of that, it being the way things are done, and it is simply to be expected, I did not however expect this particular tool this particular morning.

Which led to many cries of "I hate that whip!... Don't stop."

By the time my morning's ordeal was 'over', I was very 'floaty'. Sir released me from my bonds at the bench and let me lay across the bed. We spoke briefly, and then he very matter of factly went over to the small table in the corner and returned with several sets of adjustable clamps with which he heightened my neediness beyond excruciating.

Then he removed them, and left me unfulfilled. He allowed me the cuffs for the rest of the day (actually, I slept in them that night only taking them off the next morning.)

The lovely anguish that is being left afterwards is not something I would normally enjoy. But with him, after this in particular, it was wonderful, feeling that ache combined with the soreness from the whips earlier, it left me constantly aware of HIM as I drifted through the next day or so. It's that awareness, that feeling of being owned, posessed, taken somewhere I rarely go with anyone with trust at the core of it that I treasure above all else.

Hallows

I'll get towards writing about this morning later, but for the moment, just a brief post about Hallows.

Being a Witch (that's another blog!) I find myself furnished a number of preexisting excuses, if you will, for Sir and I to have sex. This often gets expressed something along the lines of "it's a pagan holiday! We should fuck!" Which is only all the more amusing when he brings it up, (Sir, not being a Witch.)

All of which tends to harken back to a wonderful Beltane spent one year with Sir and 'my' girl, this being many years back.

So, it's Hallows and Sir comes downstairs, somewhat annoyed that I wasn't upstairs seeing as to how he wanted me, right then and there. This is a good thing. Spontaneity makes me happy.

But I waver for a moment, and in an extraordinarily rare bit of 'giving him lip', I make it clear I'm busy. (This is deeply out of character for me, I don't do "brat" play.) This of course, cannot stand. (Yes, if my 'not now' were a real 'no' of course he'd respect that, but this is clearly me being 'playful' and we both know it.)

And so he has me stop whatever it was I was doing at the time, kneel on the big black leather couch, and he takes me, roughly.

And I'm happy.

This has everything to do with the dynamic between us. Any real 'not now' would have been clarified, and we would have gone on about our day, getting to sex at a later point.

But knowing one another as we do, we both know I'm 'asking for it' in my own rare way (usually I'd never DREAM of giving him shit!) and what comes next, no matter how much some might mistake it for vanilla what, with the lack of tools and all, is anything but, because we're both working with power, and his Dominance, and my risking, and that's where so much of the magick of the dance is for us. (That, and the smell and touch of leather as I'm being taken from behind never hurts. I am after all, far too much of a fetishist for it to be otherwise.)

Some of that "relationship maintainence" which seems as second nature to us

So last night, much as I intended to make the Black Rose history panel, it wasn't to be. I was disappointed, but there was just no way it was going to happen. Apparently there may be a BR history workshop over the course of BRXX, so I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope to see something there. In the end, it was just as well we didn't go, as last night was something I would not have missed.

We spent the evening 'in', and this led to a rather intense discussion about some of where we're going with all this, some of what this 're-entry' into corners of 'the scene' is meaning for us, and a great deal of discussion about what we both want, and how to make it all work with our real day to day life. (By "intense" I do not mean 'heated', I mean very 'raw', very 'close to the bone', very 'real'.)

These are very real issues for us, for while we are both long term people in (and out of) 'the scene', (15 and 20 years, actually), we come at it from very different places with what are at times somewhat different expectations.

It's been very odd to come to groups ten years later, and see the occasional familiar face, only to realize that in ten years, they haven't changed a bit (and that's not necessarily a good thing). We, on the other hand, have changed a great deal. So it can be very jarring at times.

Most importantly, though, I think we've both pretty clear on the fact that while we may wander through 'the scene' in certain times and ways, the heart of who we are and what we do is very much something we live out here at home/with each other. Unlike so many people, who are only able to do these things, or wear these things, or be who they feel they are when they step out of their private spaces and daily lives and into 'scene' spaces, Sir and I actually live out our 'leather lifestyle' in the day to day. It's a luxury, and we understand how rare that is compared to many other people.

Nor do we compartmentalize our 'leather lives' away into something done in 'scene spaces' or events. There is no 'stepping out of role' for us, because our 'roles' are not 'roles' they are who we are. This is part of why terms like 'scening' have never worked for me, it's not something I relegate to Fridays between 7pm and 1am, or 'at clubs', or anything like that. No doubt some would then turn to us and say, oh no biggie, you 24/7. Which, while I suppose can be one way of putting it, is not how we see it. We simply are who we are. I may not use the word "Sir"except by accident when some friends or family is present, but that's out of respect for them and their comfort, not out of hiding anything. Most of my close friends know this simple fact of our relationship anyways, so hearing the occasional "Sir" to them is merely an acknowledgement of the realities of our lives.

In any case, so we sat and spoke at length last night, if only to be sure we are both on the same page coming off some of the experiences we're having and in relation to the direction(s) we both want to head.

Some people set aside one night a week to have these kinds of 'relationship' talks, for us though, it is nothing so formal. We just sometimes have an evening when we both have time and want to touch base with one another, and so we spend a few hours talking about the framework we're building together, and how we're relating to some of the shared experiences we're having.

Not surprisingly, afterwards, I went upstairs, got several tools together and Sir followed me up not long thereafter. No, this did not lead to a long hard night of whipping, nor of rough sex. Instead, it lead to being held tightly, and forced to cum repeatedly in his arms, slowly loosing control to whispered threats and promises of training/what will be done to me, soon enough.

I am exactly where I want to be.