fear

Playdate with Popcorn, Part Six

At one point, when I was about to cum, I caught her looking in the mirror over my shoulder.

“Sorry,” she said. “I like to watch myself when I do stuff. It’s kind of my thing.”

That explained, of course, why Penthouse had moved the mirror over when she had come by that afternoon.

A bit later, when I was on top of her and bringing her close, I stole a glance. Then a bit of a longer look. I saw myself, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, my body against hers. It was hot, I had to admit it. Besides the collar and chain, the kink paraphernalia was absent from my reflection this time around and I found it much easier to look at myself.

Baby steps.

gaggleofgals:

Reblogged via Stumblr

“She was afraid, and the afraid, she realized, sought opportunities for bravery in love,“ – Lorrie Moore, Like Life.

With the rope marks on her breasts implying she’s probably been tied up in another position recently, coupled with the growing fear in her eyes and the way he’s grabbing her, I’d have to say this is just the right amount of scary.

Life may not be that simple, but I’ve been getting a lot of love for my fear lately.

Since being discovered by a classmate and making that post about Shame, I have received some really lovely messages from some really wonderful followers about my feelings, their feelings, and how they intersect. Moreover, I’ve gotten so much love and support that my heart is literally bursting. The kindness of strangers is unfathomable. But, then again, I suppose we’re not strangers.

I’ve been talking to my anonymous classmate and he’s actually a pretty chill person. I felt bad, he felt awful after I made that Shame post. It wasn’t directed at him, but I suppose he was concerned about the whole can of worms that got opened up.

This blog will not be shut down. Identity crises come and go, but the fact is this is the only journal I’ve ever been able to commit to, I’ve come into contact with so many beautiful and fascinating people through it, and I do not want to cut this outlet from my life. Because good ol’ Donnie Darko is right. Life isn’t that simple. I can’t let the fear overwhelm me and I can’t let the love make me cocky. I have to live within the entire spectrum of human experience.

So, thank you, followers, for your love, support and empathy as I process the shame and all the yucky stuff. You are the best readers a gal could ask for.

I don’t actually like being scared. I can’t sit through most horror movies, I can’t handle “death-defying” roller coasters. I jump about ten feet in the air if someone sneaks up on me. But, for some reason, some of the sexual situations I enjoy are probably about five times more risky and fear-driven than any of these things. And, oddly enough, I can handle them just fine.

bloody-rare-sex:

We play a game, she and I. We know the places in the woods where no one goes; those are our favorite places to walk. After ten minutes or so, my pace begins to slow. She keeps going, deeper into the forest, and when she is just out of sight, I change my path. Cut off the faint trail we’ve marked. Move between the trees. And then, when enough time has passed, my hunt begins.

And when I find her, she’s mine.

Sometimes, I frighten myself when I really pull back the now vaguely socially acceptable kinky fun I engage in to find some of the things that really grip me.

whyexactly:

nextroom:

never before and now all the time. that scares me.

I know.

I want you to be a little bit afraid because,

When your body acts before your mind is ready,

That’s when you’re real.

So stop hiding and

Come meet the real you.

You might like her.

Trapped, Part 2

The issues with my abduction fantasy lie in the execution. Part of it has to do with fear.

The text above is from the caption I’ve had on this post for a while in my drafts. I keep putting off writing it because I don’t know how to articulate myself properly about the whole thing. I was just never sure it could be pulled off. I wanted to be scared while still feeling safe and I wasn’t sure if those two things were genuinely possible in the sneak-attack type method I wanted my “abduction” to take place.

But, this was somehow working so far. I had a safe word. I knew it was him and still I had been taken very much by surprise. The way he was groping me was a far enough departure from the way he normally touches me when we first start messing around, before stuff gets a little kinky. But, this time he was rough, possessive.

I remember having mentioned having this fantasy once. It was very off-handedly, I hadn’t expected anything would come of it. He had told me about something that he was into that is literally impossible to carry out and I replied that I knew how he felt, because I could never be kidnapped the way I wanted without it being too dangerous for me to enjoy or too safe for me to get excited by the risk involved.

And yet this felt like a good balance. I was at this really happy medium where I was just scared enough to not find it either cheesy or traumatic.

Sometimes, I just want to be pushed around. No real rhythm to it, no finesse at all. I want to be afraid of you. I want to fear that you’ve completely lost control.

Of course, the reality is that you haven’t. But, there’s such a freedom in feeling as if you’ve just totally tapped into something primal, something completely sub-human that the Rubicon is fading fast on the horizon.

I want you to drag me around by the hair, shove me into things, make me doubt that we’ll ever return to normalcy again. And once you’ve pushed me that far, I want to show me how well you can restrain yourself. Because pure self-control is dull and pure carnality is dangerous.

Rollercoasters need agonizing rises and uncontrollable falls. Show me you know how to ride.

Fear is an incredibly powerful aphrodisiac.

That means you don’t have to approach every encounter with genuine excitement and assuredness. Sometimes it’s good to be reticent, afraid. So long as you’ve consented and you trust anyone involved, being frightened of what is to come can be just fine. In fact, you might even enjoy it.

With a lot of the female libido being dependent on anticipation, build-up, words, foreplay, preludes to the main event than the actual finalized actions, naturally fear is a great tool when wielded correctly. It’s just another suspension of time, another little subplot on the way to the climax.

Ivy

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