Pup had me clean off the whipping post after we were done with a sanitary wipe and then had me walk out the used condom in front of everyone over to the garbage can at the other end of the party. I was blushing like crazy, Pup motioning me to come back over. He put my aftercare blanket around me and sat with me for a little while as I came down.
It turns out that we’d been at it longer than we thought, and Saltine seemed a little miffed. So, I sent him off to go be with them, feeling kind of bad that we’d lost track of time.
The girls who’d been across from us came over and asked if they could sit with me. Together, we were watching a guy tie up a girl with a cute butt. “You were really lovely on that post,” one of the girls said. I was a little subspaced, and my head was cloudy from all the impact play. The girl asked if she could play with my hair and I agreed, feeling small and fussed over and pliant.
Pup came back over to let me know he was going to play with Saltine and to ask if I was all right with that. He touched my cheek and I felt even smaller. I don’t really know how to explain it, besides that when I get into a certain space from pain, my brain just goes quiet.
In mid-December, we all went to a play party. It was the first time I’d gone to a play party without Sir.
The evening started out pretty tame. Saltine, Pup, one of Saltine’s friends and I arrived at the party after hanging around at Pup’s place for a little bit, and a friend of mine who had previously said she was too shy to go showed up anyway.
I congratulated her for being super brave. In addition to just being an awesome thing for her to face her fears and show up at the party, it made me feel good about being there myself. I was a little anxious about being there without Sir, as well as being nervous about being there with Saltine. I am an absolute anxious perfectionist, so the idea of us not really wanting to play together and also not really knowing how to divvy up the time left me a little on edge. It’s the kind of thing were I just want everything to be perfect and everybody to be happy and Jesus nobody wants to make firm plans.
Pup came over and told me that he wanted to play with me. I was feeling a little bratty, so I spent a some time avoiding it by running off to grab a drink or talk to someone. But, somewhere in the middle of talking my friend, Pup came over, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me off to the back of the party.
The back area was partitioned off into two rows of little semi-private play areas, separated by curtains through which one could easily see silhouettes of the people behind them. The area he took me to was right near the front of the row, such that the party could see us through the curtains. Inside was a small raised platform, and atop the platform was a long, wooden post. The entire apparatus faced a mirrored wall.
Pup moved me up onto the platform and guided my hands to hold onto the post. He slid my legs apart by easing his feet between mine. For a moment, he stood pressing his weight against me, pinning me against the post. It’s a move he’d pulled before, when we were out on our second date and we were playing pool. That time, it was under the auspices of helping me to play, but I understood the intention behind it both that time and this one. It’s a power play, a move to demonstrate the differences in both height and strength, a way to say that he can overpower me. It’s also more or less a way to grind his cock against me.
Gathering up a length of rope, he arranged my hands further up the post and tied them there by threading the rope through a loop at the top of the post.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked as he set to pushing my feet further apart. There were two more metal loops on the platform, and he was already tying two lengths of rope around my ankles.
He chuckled and shook his head. “What do you think, princess?” He’d been in the habit of calling me that then, always condescendingly, always in such a way that I protested being called it. He tied off the ropes and my legs were stuck spread almost uncomfortably wide.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”
Pup rose up to his feet and sunk his fingers into my hair. He tugged back so hard, so suddenly that the memory of watching it happen in the mirror in front of me – of seeing it all too quickly before all the saw was the ceiling – is still as vivid as ever.
“John Martin’s Book for Little Children,” April 1913, Vol. II, No. 1 Subscription
Sir likes to say that my fantasies revolve a lot around being the ingénue. They involve innocence, reluctance, corruption. Within the context of a “scene” or “play,” I never initiate in my ideal scenario.
Call it a way of sublimating shame, maybe. Playing the reluctant victim implies I don’t actually have to own up to enjoying the disgusting things I like. Or it might just be that the idea of not being in control of my experience is kind of hot. But part of it, certainly, is the freedom to be unaccountable and immature.
Saltine showed up almost twenty minutes late for coffee. I considered it a power play until I saw the way they came in: sweatpants, glasses on, no makeup. Saltine’s the kind of person who can carry it off, which is a quality I’ve always envied in that type of person. If I do that, I just look like I’m sick.
But I realized what was really happening here. They ordered hot chocolate while I sat there with black coffee. They spun out on tangents about other people they’d dated, about foolish choices they’d made prior with people whose age and experience they equated with credibility and safety. And I understood why Saltine had annoyed me so much: they were the ingénue.
What’s more, from the things they told me, they were me. Not me at this point. But Saltine was nineteen years old now, just the way I was right around the time I started this blog, when I was at a point where I wanted to take control of myself and my sexuality, when in the past I had kind of been just stumbling around with it, throwing myself into things.
The conversation went well. They understood that I had different standards about boundaries and said they would respect them. And though I acknowledged it was unhealthy to project it on Saltine and I shouldn’t try to protect them, I told Pup that he and Saltine could sleep at my place after the play party.
As I’ve said before, Saltine was eighteen years old when I met them. And as I’ve said before, I don’t like to date people that young.
I had genuinely no problem with Pup going out with them, but I had zero intentions of getting involved. I found Saltine pretty childish in the few interactions I had with them, in the way that I was when I was their age. Precocious but still young, too smart for their own good. So, on the one hand, I could relate, but on the other I was like ok mama has no time to get mixed up with this child.
After Pup and Saltine hooked up, I ran into Saltine at a munch. I had been perfectly prepared to be cordial. I was happy Pup was getting out there since his breakup, and I was glad things were going well.
But Saltine came on super strong, in a way that was so blunt it was alarming. When they’d walked away, my friend said kiddo needed to chill out. I had to agree.
However, Saltine most definitely did not chill out. And Pup, kind of new to the practice of dating two individuals and calling neither one of them a primary, was not yet accustomed to setting boundaries. So the night I came over to meet Pup’s good friend, guess who was already at his house and on his couch: Saltine.
I shouldn’t have felt entitled to anything, but I did. I’d seen Pup through a pretty big breakup. We’d been seeing each other for almost five months at that point. And then there was just this person traipsing in for what my traditional little brain had categorized as a pretty big milestone: meeting the best friend.
So I was annoyed, but I thought if I vocalized that I’d come across as thewet blanket or selfish. Especially with Saltine being so down for stuff. They’d been interested in hooking up with me, and I had not returned that interest. They were clearly easier to deal with on paper: down for threesomes, down with hanging out all together like this. I needed time. I needed fair warning. If I was going to show up somewhere and Saltine was going to be there, I needed to know ahead of time. Saltine proably didn’t need that.
And so intestead of taking care of myself and asking Pup to talk in the next room, I decided to turn on way too much shade and basically ignore Saltine. I just spoke directly to Pup’s friend, and after his friend had left, I whipped out a book from my bag and started reading it on the couch rather than attempting to engage Saltine in any kind of conversation.
To make matters only worse, there was a play party coming up. I lived a convenient distance from the venue, and so Saltine asked if we could all go to my place after and just sleep over. I also had, as it turned out, the biggest bed.
Dumbfounded and not wanting to be the partypooper, I agreed. But internally I was kicking myself like mother of fuck what did I just agree to.
Eventually, and I honestly do not know how it happened, but Pup and Saltine wound up on the couch with my while I started reading. And then Saltine ended up taking Pup’s cock out or maybe Pup just took his cock out? I genuinely do not remember. But basically the two of them were pretty hot and bothered and bursting with new relationship energy and I was like
Bottom line, I should have been assertive. But I wasn’t. And instead of even just asking them to stop or going home, I told them to keep going and that I didn’t want to ruin their fun. Which was totally stupid on my part, but I was pretty insecure abut the whole thing. Saltine was young and hot and exciting, down for just about anything. I didn’t want to be the boring one. It’s hard not to feel like everything is going to be a comparison.
So I literally gave the okay to them having sex while I was there. And it was so weird. Because I was essentially this dog:
It wasn’t until the next day until all the feelings came flooding to the surface and I found words for them. And I ended up texting Pup novel after novel of upset and anger and outrage. Saltine was not sleeping at my house, I said. And if Saltine was at his place when I was coming over, he’d better tell me. How dare the two of them impose upon me like that and make me feel as if I were the eternal partypooper if I didn’t go along with every ridiculous plan or impulse, I’d said. Pup apologized and promised he’d establish better boundaries, though I conceded that I should have articulated my discomfort better.
After that, all that was left was to talk to Saltine. We made a plan for coffee later that week. Naturally, I was freaked out. But more on that later.
This is your hostess apologizing for being pretty quiet for the past while. I know I’m behind on 365 photos. I know I’m behind on updating you all about my life.
Facts are, my life has been the most hectic it has ever been, for good and bad reasons. I finished up my Master’s, I have a job in the city where I completed it that I’ll be beginning soon after I return from this trip to be with Sir. Things are crazy and exciting. I’m starting to get situated in my field, and so tumblr has fallen a bit by the wayside.
However, this inactivity has also been for some crummy reasons. Basically, I’ve been putting off writing about two things that are kind of sucky. The first is the relationship Pup and I had with Saltine. The second is a rather rough spot, kind of an ultimate low, with Sir. Both have resolved themselves in different ways: Pup and I are no longer seeing Saltine, Sir and I kind of had to hit rock bottom to rebuild back to what we had.
Neither of these are particularly appealing to write about. The first feels so strange in the sense that I know this thing is over, and it colors all the stories I have to tell you. The second is buried beneath a lot of shame: I hate to admit where I’ve messed up, I hate to portray my relationship with Sir in a negative light.
So bear with me, tumblr. The stories are coming. They’re just going to take a lot out of me.
I met Saltine before Pup did, at a munch a month or two prior. I first introduced them (the individual, preferred pronoun) in my post about being a brilliant wingwoman. But, yes, I’d met them prior to that time at a munch, where they gave me their number.
We texted rather sparsely. They’d send me a message, I’d reply a few hours later, they’d reply the next day. We were perfectly cordial with each other. I was a little taken aback to eventually discover that they were only eighteen years old (call me ageist or whatever else) and I figured that I would keep stuff friendly but not play with them or anything like that. When they asked if I was coming to a play party, I gave a soft maybe and – because my schedule was a little crazy – didn’t end up going.
But at an event in November, I noticed Pup checking Saltine out and I figured I’d help that along. After all, he didn’t mind dating younger the way I do and I was, at the time, his only partner. So, when the event ended, I managed to rally together Pup, Saltine, and some others to go share some fries.
As we walked over, we originally made our way up the block Wizard of Oz style: Pup, Saltine, my friend and I. I grabbed my friend by the arm and made her hang back with me so Pup and Saltine could walk ahead. At the restaurant, I went over to the bar first to talk to someone so that when I finally got to the table, I wasn’t sitting by Pup and he couldn’t just fall back on talking to me.
At the end of the night, Pup and I left together. Once we were outside, I couldn’t hold it in and blurted out, “please tell me you got their number.”
“Yeah,” he said. We high-fived and then he did that awkward walking-on-eggshells poly speech about blah blah how great the other partner is blah blah thank you for understanding. It’s a speech I’ve heard myself give so many times whenever I felt guilty for enjoying someone else, and hearing it out of his mouth, I realized how silly it sounded.
Over the next few days, I kept pestering to him to make plans with them. And, finally, they’d arranged to go get coffee. But, a few days before their plans, while Pup and I were doing some work at a cafe when they texted asking him for help with their homework.
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus Christ. They are trying to hang out with you. Invite them here.”
So, Saltine showed up. I was a little embarrassed – I’d just spent the night at Pup’s place and I was wearing sweatpants and no makeup and my hair was a mess – and I hadn’t planned on being seen by anybody I hadn’t already woken up with. But, I took one for the team and stuck around, making sure everything was going well between them. And, when I knew the time was right, I excused myself and left the two.
That evening, I checked my phone to make sure he wasn’t free to text me. And the next morning, I found a message from him saying they’d spent the night and that the two of them were getting along swimmingly, in addition to having really good energy. I may have high-fived myself in the solitude of my bedroom.
Pup arrives at my house and rings the doorbell. I’d just been at his place a few hours ago.
Me: What are you doing here?
Pup: I texted you. I needed to get my toy bag.
Me: Didn’t Saltine just go over to your place? We were just texting.
Pup: Yeah.
Me: Then why are you over here? Go be with Saltine.
Pup: …all my condoms are in the toy bag.
Me: This is going on my stupid blog.
Me: I definitely need to get a glass dildo now.
Saltine, Pup’s Partner: Yessss. I like how it’ll get to my body temperature.
Me: I just like the weight. It’s this nice balance between like vaguely heavy but also light but not as light as silicone.
Saltine: I don’t dig ethereal cocks.
Me: Hahaha “ethereal cocks” is the name of my new band.
Saltine: Ivy and the Ethereal Cocks.
Me: Oh my God, yes.
Saltine: You need a better name. It’s gotta be like: Cunt-Punch and the Ethereal Cocks.
Me: Ughhh I refuse to carry that cunt punch around with me.
Me: I refuse to have my life dictated by one cunt punch.
Standard
(This is totally a jump ahead in all the stuff I have to catch you all up on but…)
There’s an 80% chance Pup’s getting it in with a cutie because I’m the best wingwoman ever.
