my kinks are getting progressively weirder and idk how to deal w that ok
the kink monologues
TES Fest 2015 Scene- Fucking in the Courtyard
StandardSunday afternoon at TES Fest was progressing and I had finished teaching my bodywork class in the morning with my sweet and yummy pet, MrFluttershy. switchette had shown up to greet me after my class in which I tortured her pal ohokaybueno. She had bruises on her outer thigh from the point of my elbow on the ITband. My pointy elbow is pointy.
I had asked switchette to check every so often if I had water recently as part of her service to me. I am mostly decent at hydrating at cons, but it was wonderful every time she asked me, “have you had any water recently?” Her genuine interest pouring through and then my remembrance of my instructions to her. It made me smile and proud to know that switchette remembered to ask such a simple thing.
switchette was looking delicious in her pink gingham top, light denim dress and pearl necklace. I admit to being a bit speechless and maybe a touch blushy. We packed up the class stuff and made our way out to the courtyard. There we met up with MrDream, GleefulAbandon, WildNutmeg & Jinx.
As the courtyard space/ hotel was for TES fest attendees for a couple more hours people took the opportunity to strip down and sunbathe naked. As I already have freckles on my freckles, I took the time they were laying out to compose myself and hydrate- as well as perv on my friends. switchette took the denim dress off to reveal the pink gingham shirt to be a unitard with snaps hiding in the crotch-area. I think I coughed and walked away as an effort to calm myself.
I had earlier in the week made an teasing comment in chat to switchette previously about wanting to fuck her as zero in the courtyard at TES Fest. This question was met with a clear deep mewling reaction that indicates she really wants something to happen. Upon encountering this response I knew I wanted it just as badly as she did. A few days before the event I asked her to consider if she wants to do this with me and to let me know- I wanted to make sure her agency in deciding was intact.
The details of the dynamic we have are pretty complex, but the short simple version is when switchette is within zero- headspace, she is in service to me and calls me Sir, or Major Morgan, the third of this dynamic is Lieutenant P., whom zero has been ordered to refer to as Ma’am or Lieutenant. I am so pleased with her progress in training with us.
My love MrDream, GleefulAbandon and WildNutmeg went off to teach a class. I asked when the courtyard would be open to regular guests and found out 3pm. It was a little before 2pm, so I asked switchette if she wanted to do the scene and was met with a YES please reaction. Jinx and ohokaybueno
had asked if they could perv nearby on the scene and we agreed that was fine.
After negotiating I made sure I had all my safer supplies nearby and we started.
switchette kneeled in front of me ready to give what I had to offer. Her eyes were already glazed over, mouth slightly open. I brought her down to an even deeper state of trance but suggested she’d be able to experience everything fully and let me know if anything needed adjusting.
“How badly do you want me to fuck you?” I asked.
“Very much, Sir. Please fuck me Sir.” zero pleaded.
I took zero by the hair and made her crawl around in a small circle before coming back to the towel we were using. I could hear her little moans and could taste her want and her need of this. I unbuttoned her unitard feeling her wetness and knowing exactly where it belonged. I took one end and shoved it into her mouth. Doing so was met with a low moan.
I had her turn away from me and after some warm up, put my njoy plug in her ass. I changed my gloves and started fucking her pussy with my fingers. After getting three inside I decided to give her a little taste. I removed her leotard from her mouth, held out my hand and had her crawl for it. She caught up and I told her she was my good girl, and proceeded to have her suck my cock a bit. I was making her count and thank me for each orgasm and she was up to five or six so far. I understand how multiple orgasms work, but I gave her a hard time, “is it five or six zero?! Tell me the truth!”
After fucking her doggy style for a while with my strap on, zero had gotten to eight orgasms. I was riding her cunt from behind while holding her mouth open fish hook style. I told her to imagine her Lieutenant’s cock sliding in and out of her mouth, being such a good fucktoy and airtight for us. She moaned and came hard again. (I will state that that hasn’t happened with the Lieutenant, and this is the first time zero and I have fucked, for the record.)
I knew that we soon would have to pack it in due to muggles showing up soon, so I had an idea. I asked her friends to keep time and she could come as much as she could in 2 minutes, she just would have to count aloud and thank me properly.
I turned over and let zero straddle and then sink down on my cock. She was lost to her pleasure in these moments, and I was lost in my experience of this amazing creature riding me.
“Time!” Our friend said.
She had 13 fucking orgasms. “You are such a lucky girl, zero.”
“Thank you Sir.”
“Thank you for your service zero! You have made me very proud.”
I am so fucking fortunate, and these experiences made me come crazy hard. What occurred after this is between switchette and myself. I plan to ruin her in the future for real, but this was a lovely and delicious taste for both of us.
As you all know, I am a chaste & celestial unicorn babe.
That said, this was an incredibly hot scene with a correspondingly hot write-up, and I’m very thankful to zanythoughts for suggesting it, executing it, sharing it with me, and reporting on it.
I want so much to tag on details from my own perspective, but it’s far too intimate to put here. (Which is kind of hilarious given the context, but also true to me.) I’ll just add a few details that seem personally important:
- The courtyard was an open, public, outdoor space. Friends aside, it was filled with con-end people just chatting and chilling and surrounded by hotel room windows sporting practiced and able voyeurs. And no, I am not an exhibitionist. Like. At all.
- The outfit that Zany so lovingly described was one of the odder ones I wore that weekend. I’m not a little, and it didn’t fit easily into a traditional kink aesthetic. But it had been a combination on my mind for a while, and it was so fully what I needed that day. Demure. Surprising. Substantial. I’m glad it could contribute to their enjoyment. And also mine. Since they just straight-up put the crotch in my mouth approximately 5 minutes in.
- I don’t think you understand. I was crawling on the grass, people. To taste myself! And there were mad red ants out there!!! #commitment
- I am not generally a loud partner – in sex or much else – so the sobbing, humping, grateful, not-really-there-anymore thirteenth orgasm that I screamed across the courtyard while Zany suggested I imagine someone else’s cock in my mouth was perhaps my loudest? And that thought is unapproachably complex and irresistibly fascinating and makes me wet and deeply embarrassed.
So. Yeah. Bye.
I went to a big kink event for the holiday weekend – an event that I lovingly consider my kink anniversary. I haven’t had a chance to write (or, honestly, think) very much about it, but the whole weekend very different for me this year. Circumstances and situations are different. I’ve changed a bit.
I did a few really wonderful scenes. After the weekend, though, I realized that almost every time I bottomed was a growth experience for me. There’s nothing wrong with the stretch, but I didn’t get to experience much of the soothing, mindless catharsis that gives me a restart. There’s sometimes a point where all the tertiary voices quiet down, and you float in the present sensation with absolutely no thought.
I did not get much of that. And I think I need it.
We we’re at a poly event and I was chatting with an acquaintance. He and his girlfriend have a girlfriend together, it’s a three-way relationship and he was telling me that since he’s had to start pleasing two women in bed his endurance has improved significantly. He detailed a moment where he made one of his girlfriends squirt while bringing the other to orgasm through clitoral stimulation, it was clear from the grin on his face he was pleased with himself. “I can fuck for hours now, I have to take a break once in a while but a few months ago there’s no way I would have lasted, I just didn’t have the stamina.” We joked that this was yet another benefit of eschewing monogamy; you have no choice but to become way more skilled in bed.
“Is that the guy you’re seeing?” he asked when he saw
Rumi
talking with my husband at the bar. I nodded. “When you guys fuck is it threesomes or do you just see him alone for dates?” he asked. I explained that it was just for threesomes, that we all really enjoyed the enthusiastic dynamic we had together and it pushed everyone’s buttons. I told him about the amazing synchronicity we have and gushed about the time we had an exhibitionist three-way that ended in both of them cumming simultaneously in my mouth.I could see it on his face, the shift. He was disgusted. “Jesus I can’t look you in the eye now.” I was taken aback, unsure of how this was any different from what he had shared with me about his own exploits. “I feel bad for your pride here,” he laughed, as if there was something I should be ashamed of.
What part made it unpalatable for him? The fact that the threesome was for my pleasure not theirs? The fact that it was my fantasy? The fact porn has taught him that men’s ejaculate is a tool for degradation? The fact that I liked it? The fact that I said it out loud?
He had just bragged about getting two girls off at once, what made it different?
I know so many men like this, so many of my friend’s boyfriends who hound them for a threesome with another girl but would be repulsed if they suggested one with two boys. Men with sexual agendas that involve making their partners feel bad for not putting out or getting on board with some fantasy that makes their cock hard, yet their enthusiasm disappears if their partners want to explore a fantasy for their own enjoyment that isn’t directly related to their dick. Men who project their own shitty stigmas and assumptions on female desire, men who are critical of their partners turn-ons, men who don’t understand the concept of foreplay. Men who lick a pussy just to get it wet enough so they can shove their cock inside, not because they want to bring good feelings to the girl on the other side. Men who feel threatened by vibrators yet can’t stomach a conversation about their wives unmet needs. Men who remind me the madonna/whore complex is alive and well because they say things like “I could never marry a girl I went to an orgy with” while they are at an orgy. Men who only kiss you when they want to fuck you. Men who jerk off to porn but have no respect for the women who explore their sexuality on that screen. Men who think sex equals penetration. Men who think sex is over when they cum. Men whose masculinities are as fragile as their egos. Men who leave their partners unsatisfied and un-thrilled.
I have no fucking time for these men.
After a little more prodding the answer became clear; he was close minded and misogynistic. He was into women who were sexual for his benefit. I felt sorry for his girlfriends.
(via playhardfuckharder)
“Baby, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your sexuality is powerful, that’s a magical thing. I’ve seen you exhaust two healthy strong men in their prime, I’ve seen you devour all of that sexual energy and still want more. You’re insatiable. It’s fucking astonishing to watch. Own that. Revel in that, it’s a gift.”
Cub said this to me years ago, I could feel my cheeks grow warm as tears stung my eyes. I had never heard such a positive affirmation. My sex drive had always been framed as excessive, abnormal, shameful… he validated my desire in a way that felt beautiful.
I find myself wanting things that are extreme and overwhelming. I love the way my brain feels when there is no room for anything other than the base electric erotic sensations pulsating through my body. I wear boys out and it feels fucking incredible.
A lifetime of being told women don’t think of sex as much, men are the ones who have these needs, men have higher sex drives, women don’t want these things, these are just male fantasies, men think of sex more often, women have more romantic fantasies where as men’s are explicit, men are never sexually satisfied, women fake headaches and throw them a bone once in a while, men are expected to flex their sexual prowess, women want to settle down, what’s wrong with you? What will people think? There are names for women like you.
I want to embrace my desire, to feed it and find out where oh where it’s limitations might be. I want to push into my ravenous want. I want to know how deep it goes. It feels bigger than me sometimes, but it doesn’t scare me anymore. Different bodies have different capabilities, different needs. I like my body and it’s voracious ambitions.
“I just feel like it’s not for me, two cocks is just excessive, it’s more than I can handle, you know?” I nodded. She had just had her first threesome with two boys. I understood what she was saying but I could not relate. “That’s the thing,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I feel like two cocks is my comfort zone. Every time I’m in that space it feels like yes, this is the level of ability I should be playing at. I feel competent and content managing this situation.” We both burst into laughter at our casual comparison. She knew it wasn’t a criticism, she happens to be a complete bad ass and does bdsm scenes that intimidate the fuck out of me. We all have our strengths, and knowing your strengths is a skill in itself.
I don’t think everyone should fuck like me, but I don’t think anyone should feel ashamed if they do. And some days giving shame the big fuck you isn’t quite enough; I want to celebrate my sexuality.
I want to be proud of my imagination and boundaries and needs.
I want to honour my drive and my desires.
I want to revel in it.Painting: Insatiable by Will Cotton
Words: Her Dirty Little Heart
Ecstasy is the human reset button. It shakes you up, reboots your system, and opens your eyes to a whole new world of possibilities. Ecstasy introduces you to your deepest most authentic self, while simultaneously offering freedom, intimacy, connection and spiritual awakening.
Barbara Carrellas, Ecstasy is Necessary (a practical guide)
Catharsis
StandardI’ve been sensitive – sad, even – for the past couple days. Yesterday I laid on the couch all day, barely moving, watching movies intended to make me cry. Today he took the day off for other reasons, and we ended up having a really incredible scene together.
I’d been messing with him: wiggling my fingers in front of his eyes while he tried to use the computer. Trying to get his attention even though I’d forgotten what I wanted to say to him. Being my Cute Girlfriend self.
So when I laid down on the ground and put my feet in the air – trying my best to touch his face obnoxiously – he pressed his foot between my legs.
There are a few things that instantly put me into a submissive headspace. Apparently I’ll need to add being stepped on to that list. He pressed down firmly, exploring with the pad of his foot to find the places that made me react the most. I stopped being able to form coherent words when he pressed harder.
“Oh, so you like that, little girl?” Ugh. “Is that all it takes?”
When I flipped over to attempt escape, he stepped on my back to keep me still, then pressed the top of his foot between my legs and pushed again. I was done for.
“I have to go do work,” I said.
“Get on all fours,” he responded.
He won. He pulled down my leggings and fingered me at a fast clip while I moaned unintelligibly. He pushed the wet finger into my mouth and made me clean it up.
At this point, I started getting fussy. My fussy, bratty side only happens with him, and I think it’s because I feel overwhelmed not just by what’s happening, but also by my real, non-sex life, of which he is a big part. Whatever the case, he is getting increasingly good at dealing with me when I’m unreasonable.
He took a moment to check in, standing me up against his chest and holding me close.
“What do you want right now? We don’t have to do anything.”
I was quiet, but I knew what I wanted. I’d wanted it for days. “Will you fuck me doggy style?”
“Of course.” A pause, then back to being Daddy. “Doggies are naked, though, aren’t they?”
I stripped hungrily and got back on my hands and knees. In the meantime, he managed not only to get naked but also to find a belt. “Doggies get punished sometimes, too,” he said.
He warmed up my ass and my shoulders nicely. After a couple mean strikes to the outsides of my thighs, he grabbed me by my hair and used it to lead me, crawling clumsily, to our bedroom.
He sat down on the edge of our bed with me between his legs. “Get it nice and wet,” he commanded. I pulled him deep into the back of my throat, where I knew I could make things really sloppy. I love the feeling of thick drool as it sloshes around each thrust. (Perhaps gross, but that’s me. I’m a gross individual.)
He closed his eyes and laid back for a bit, moaning occasionally, and it wasn’t long before he had me on the bed, back on all fours. The first thrust was good; the second one was better; and so on. Harder, faster. With fingers pressed deep into the meat of my hips. I came once, then a second time while his balls slapped my clit. Perfect.
He pulled the belt taut around my neck for a little while – third orgasm – but I wasn’t in the mood for the fear it engendered. Instead, I flipped over for missionary and came again with my knees near my ears.
“Will you slap me, please?” He would. He held my head still with one hand and slapped me over and over again with his left hand. Then his right. Then his left again. And on the second pass with his right hand, his aim got a slight hint of recklessness, of being too far gone to care. It was delicious. I started to cry.
“Don’t stop,” I said.
“I won’t,” thrusting away. I came again with tears falling down my cheeks.
“Choke me.” He found the veins in my neck with his thumbs and pressed down. Things got hazy, but his face was close to mine, focused in the blur. I orgasmed again. Hard.
“Did you come?” I asked him, confused when he kept thrusting.
“No, but you’re really wet.” Holy shit. So now we know: choking makes me so wet it feels like someone else has jizzed inside me. Casual observations of the extent of my perversions.
“Choking you makes me want to come, so I’m going to have you come a few more times before I do it again.” He was as good as his word, gripping the flesh of my chest for leverage until his nails dug into my skin.
When he did decide to choke me again, it hurt. He dug his fingers into my neck for what felt like a long time, and I started to be afraid I’d blackout before he finished. Then I stopped being worried about it, as my body went limp. I was pretty far gone when he did eventually, actually come inside me.
We’ve been playing together for a long time, and our dynamic is always changing, but playing with someone who knows me and my feelings really well leads to incredible moments of learning and comfort and vulnerability. Woosah.
Why Do You Want To Hurt Me
StandardOriginally published elsewhere on July 18, 2011
A common question I am asked is “What do you get out of sadism?” or “Why do you enjoy causing pain, humiliation, degradation, domination, etc.?”. I’m not sure there are any easy answers to these questions, but I am so very interested in exploring it. I don’t necessarily believe that humiliation or domination is the same kink as sadism, but for me they are very much intertwined. So for the purpose of this discussion I am going to speak to all of my kinks that are related to physical and mental sadism.
A first clue lies in the fact that I get similar enjoyment from mental anguish experienced by a consenting partner as I do from physical suffering. The suffering that shadows the eyes of someone licking cum off the floor triggers an excitement in me rivaled by the thrill of feeling the primal resistance of a body fighting against the pain of my teeth sinking deep into their flesh, or the twitch of a body receiving painful cane strokes. it is the suffering of the mind that brings my blood to boil. Suffering of the flesh is just the match to gasoline of the torturing of the mind, and this I believe is the reason I can take my pleasure at a distance. That is right, I can engage in and celebrate that darkest of kinks, “Long Distance Play”. I also have found that I can to a great degree receive satisfaction from watching someone else or even in some instances just knowing about someone else torturing another. But I suspect I am not alone in this.
Curious is the fact that I see to feel no distinction in the torturing of those who accept it as a type of service play, or a true masochist or pain-slut. It may be because in my experience even those that take great pleasure from the pain, or humiliation or even simple submission must process the thoughts or sensations that are naturally rejected by the human body and brain, and reprocess these into pleasure, even if it is quite subconsciously. Even the masochist can be heard to say ouch.
I am well aware that there are plenty of folks that will take umbrage with me uniting dominance and sadism for the purpose of this discussion, and I cannot argue that for others dominance can exist as a fulfilling kink on its own outside any sort of sadistic pleasure. However, for me, they are intertwined. This also addresses a common misconception about me and possibly other sadists that can take their play to edgy extremes. It is a question of how I/we can take equal pleasure playing with a newbie or very light player. Simply, the pleasure is in the suffering. for some folks even a light spanking can be very difficult to bare. That difficulty is what inflames me.
I truly do not know if I can answer the question of why? Why do I love to see you cry, to beg? Why do I want you to suffer? But make no mistake I do. And one of the greatest revelations of my life is that there are folks that want to suffer for me. Folks that want to look up at me pleading while my hand over their mouth and nose deny them breathe.
So I turn the question. Why do you want to hurt for me?
If you’re a sadist or masochist who just scrolled past this, then seriously—go back up and read. It’s worth it. -TRG
The fact is that while I’m mostly comfortable posting about the times I’ve been fucked over or been wronged by partners on here – after all, this blog is mostly an exercise in catharsis and processing – I struggle when it comes to admitting the times I’ve messed up.
I realized that I skipped it in proper order, though I’m not sure if it was conscious. I knew it was either before I went to see Sir for Thanksgiving or before the holidays. Part of it may have just been that it was a long time ago, part of it that I’m a little ashamed and anxious to put this here.
So, before Thanksgiving I was hanging out with Pup in his bed. It was a lazy weekend morning, and the sun was pouring in softly through the window. We were naked. Pup rolled me onto my stomach and climbed on top of me. He started teasing his cock over my slit.
In early October, I started the pill. In late October, Pup and I started having sex. Before that, Sir and I used condoms and so, when Pup and I started having sex, so did we. I’d never been on any other birth control before, and so I had never had vaginal sex without a condom.
So Pup was teasing me by pushing his cock between my legs and running it along my slit. I was really aroused, I could feel myself practically dripping onto him, could feel his thrusts become more liquid and easy.
“Do you want it?” he asked. “Just a little bit?”
I buried my face in the pillow. There’s a version of me that very clearly said that this was highly irresponsible and not something I had talked out with Sir, had even done with Sir. And I wish I could say that was how this went. But I got carried away. “Yeah,” I said, “I want it.”
It felt so good it took more longer than I’m proud to admit to ask him to stop. There was a point where I realized what I was doing and how I was wrong, a point remembering getting in an argument with Sir last spring where I said getting carried away wasn’t a real excuse. I didn’t tell him to stop right when I realized how damaging this was. But, eventually, I did.
We talked about it. We said the same things I’d once written off as bullshit. We got carried away. It felt too good to stop. We weren’t thinking.
I dreaded calling Sir. After all, I’d gotten so furious with him when he had come to me to admit to something similar. But I did. I thought that was just going to end it. And while he was upset, we talked about it. He forgave me just about right away, and we had a long conversation about both incidents. Our slip-ups, if you will, his and mine. Though I’m not proud of what I did, I’m proud to have a partner who was understanding and another who knew why what we did wasn’t okay and felt genuine remorse.
I’ve been scared to post this, but I feel part of good non-monogamy is accountability. So I’m being accountable here. I slipped up. He and I had negotiated condom use when it came to Pup, and I overstepped that. Luckily, some good came out of it in that we had this talk. But it’s also maybe important to know that people do fuck up, and a lot of a successful relationship like this isn’t just abiding by the rules (though you should do that, yo), but how you handle the fuck ups when they happen.
I’m also a survivor of sexual abuse and I had no idea that it’s common or normal to want to replay through that scenario. I only ever told one partner about my wanting to explore it, I felt it’s gross and somehow wrong of me to somehow feel pleasure from it.
StandardOh, no, bruh. It’s very common. Some of us want to replay being assaulted in general or even want to get as close to recreating an event as possible.
I found personally, I wanted to recreate events as part of a very unhealthy obsession with reliving that pain. Like picking at a healing wound.
Now I just enjoy being submissive in D/s scenarios because it feels good to know that I can be as vulnerable as I was when I was assaulted without being hurt. It’s a relief when you spend the majority of your life terrified that if you aren’t strong and in control all of the time someone will take advantage of that to hurt you.
Look it up sometime, you really aren’t alone!