Off the Wall topic

Michael Jackson died today, of course, you know this, it is plastered all over the news.
My first reaction, as it usually is when a relatively young person dies suddenly, is one of disbelief and shock.
Michael Jackson was an icon of my childhood.
Christmas of 1982 I unwrapped a thin square present excitedly, it was the one thing I had asked for that year; Michael Jackson's Thriller album.
Yeah, an album. As in a vinyl LP record. LP stands for long playing, 12 inch diameter, in case you needed a bit of a music history lesson.
I wore that record out.
I mean o-u-t.
I had to buy a second one and even a third one, that I got at the second hand music store.
My theory is that if MTV, that began airing in 1981, didn't have Michael Jackson's videos as part of their program, it would have been like Star Search is to American Idol, about 20 years ahead of its time.
Does anyone realize that Michael Jackson only produced 6 albums his entire solo career?
He averaged 1 album every 5-6 years.
It is phenomenal that his music made such an impact that he was able to sustain mega-stardom status while only recording once every 5 or 6 years.
He was a musical genius.
There is no debating that as he has a solid place is music's history.
There is also no debating he was a child molester.
Okay, there is some debate, but I don't believe in the coincidence of him being tried for child sexual abuse, not just once but twice, and that doesn't include the case that was settled out of court.
Ask me if I care that he was acquitted of his charges?
The short answer is, "no".
A successful criminal defense for a guilty person can be bought.
So, yeah, I was at first shocked to hear of his death and saddened by the loss of the musical genius that was an icon from my childhood, but my secondary reaction was, "I am glad he can't hurt any more children".
It is difficult to separate admiration for his genius from my abhorrent feelings about his criminal actions against children but I do it by remembering that people are not absolved of their immoral conduct by their brilliance.
In the end, as the person he was, no longer the brilliant musical prodigy but the predatory letch with a sexual depravity for young children, I hoped he suffered in his death and is suffering beyond it.

Conversational foreplay

Intelligent conversation is extremely sexy.
Especially when it is interspersed with intelligent humor.
It was already late by Utah-Mormon-time when we began our conversation in the evening, but it was the perfect time for it, quiet except for the sounds of the wind and rain, both of us in a reflective mood without any edginess.
There is something about the late hour, that hour that takes us from one day into another, when the shadows are at their deepest, at their darkest, that provides an intoxication giving courage to share secrets.
He is a submissive male and he lives that life quietly having only experience with women who weren't capable of understanding him or valuing him.
I was already attracted to that quality in him so it wasn't a surprise when he told me.
I didn't ask the obvious questions because I sensed he would tell me, wanted to tell me, wanted someone to tell who would accept what he was saying and be understanding.
The insecurity was there but he braved beyond it and told me he had fantasies about being feminized, that he owned women's lingerie, and that he desired to serve a Dominate woman although with his lack of experience he didn't understand completely how he wanted to do that, he just knew that he constantly thought about it.
His fantasies weren't all sexual.
His fantasies were about being a submissive male in a D/s relationship with a Dominate female.
There was something so pure, almost confessional about everything he spoke about, it felt as if I were listening to a virgin tell me how he lay in bed at night, his cock erect, knowing at a basal level he wanted to fuck but not knowing the details of how to fuck to even fantasize about it. All he knew was that stroking his cock wasn't bringing him release, he needed those details, he needed to experience those details to bring him completely over the edge.
We passed the hour when the morning is confused as still being the night, and the hours of being awake were pressing on my mind, slowing down my thoughts but not my interest.
My interest was throbbing between my legs.
It was evident his cock was hard, I could hear it in his voice and I knew when he was distracted by it as I purposely changed the tone of my voice and used words to evoke images in his mind to gauge his reaction.
We had privacy.
We were in the dark, comfortable with each other and in a state of relaxed arousal.
I told him to stroke his cock slowly while we talked.
He reached down into his pants and into the confinement of his underwear and wrapped his hand around his cock.
I did the same, sliding my fingers into the wetness between my legs.
It was so simply erotic, masturbating with one another, not touching each other only ourselves, knowing we wouldn't touch each other, using just our sounds to turn each other on.
He pulled his cock out, pushing his pants down to his knees and I slid mine down to my ankles and the smell of wanting sex aroused me even more and it took a gloriously long time for us to reach our orgasms, almost as if we didn't want to stop the tourment that was so delicious.
The sun was fading into the sky when we said good-night and although I only had time to sleep for a few hours, I woke up with a renewed engery, or maybe it is just hope, hope that something real can become of this.

Revolving door...

*Caution: Whining and bitching do take place in the following entry but since it is my blog, I get to use it to whine and bitch occassionally, so there.

My life has become a revolving door again and it has left me disappointed and considering celibacy as a viable option.
I had spent a couple weeks playing long distance/online with a submissive male who had a propensity for CBT and also wanted to experiment with chastity, both of which are of interest to me. However, the play stayed online because he lived an hour's drive from me and with our schedules we couldn't seem to meet in real life.
I am not interested in continuous long distance play with a person I haven't met, so when another meeting with him was postponed, I stopped the play.
It is disappointing to put time and energy into an online relationship, hoping, expecting it will evolve into a real-life one, only to have it completely disappear.
I am implementing a rule; no online or long-distance play with anyone I haven't first met in person.
Steve has resurfaced, as he usually does after a period of being absent, and he introduced me online to Dave who has fast become an annoyance.
Dave and Steve met online and then in the middle of the week got together for as Steve put it, "a gay encounter" that included a blow job and a quick fuck in the back of Dave's SUV.
Maybe I should mention that both are bisexual, so it makes sense?
I will admit I was slightly pissy about them getting together because Steve had cancelled on me several times when we planned to get together, so I felt put off.
When Steve suggested we get together Friday for a morning session I mouthed the word yes but without any meaning behind it since I figured he would cancel on me again.
Of course, this was the one time when he didn't.
I was disappointed that we wouldn't be getting together but at the same time I was indifferent because he HAD cancelled every single time before so how could I expect he would actually follow through?
In the meantime, Dave advised me that Steve and him are to meet up to do a guy on guy scene for a woman Steve knows that has a guy on guy fantasy.
Okay, I was seriously annoyed because I have expressed to Steve how I would love to get him together with WK because a guy on guy scene is a huge unfilled fantasy of mine.
The fact remains, Steve and I still haven't played and I am contemplating if at this point I want to play with him at all.
Unfortunately, he is so fucking hot and the thought of having his body to use in unspeakable ways just turns me on too much to be rational.
Besides, he needs to be punished for introducing me to Dave.
Dave is a boring whiner.
He is a self-indulgent, boring, whiner that only wants to talk about his fantasies especially those surrounding a woman feminizing him.
He is also irritating because he called excessively until I warned him that he needed to stop or I would not take any of his calls.
Unfortunately, to him, three calls a day is not excessive.
Next time I talk to him I will give him my definition of excessive.
There's a vanilla guy who I am 75% sure I won't be interested in but that I am not completely writing off until I have met him because I could be wrong.
But it is the same story with trying to meet up with him, he's doesn't have the time between working strange hours, working week-ends, playing in a softball league and whatever else.
It is truly aggravating how men don't have the time to date.
They all say they do but it never fails that they really don't and none of them seem to know how to schedule their time so that they do.
It isn't like I am sitting on my ass with nothing to do but I always seem to figure out how to MAKE the time to go out once in a while.
Granted, lately, I haven't put forth the effort I did before because I am cynical after being cancelled on so often that I figure why the hell put myself out when nothing will come of it?
Actually, at the moment I am cynical about the entire dating processing.
Even the men I've somehow managed to connect with are damn near impossible to connect with a second time.
Boi, the original, IM'd me out of the blue, to let me know he has a free schedule as his job is on hiatus for the summer but when I mentioned that we should get together, no reply.
Honestly, I am getting a complex.
Then there is WK.
We haven't played in weeks.
We were suppose to have all of last week to play together as he had told his wife he was going on a business trip and my son was to have gone to a summer camp.
Well, it didn't happen partially because I didn't want it to happen but mainly because my son's summer camp trip was rescheduled for July.
WK and I haven't spoken for nearly two weeks.
I know it should matter to me that my feelings for him have changed, have all but disappeared, but I haven't been interested in examining my feelings for him or the lack thereof.
All I really want is a single, submissive, interesting guy who has the time to devote to a D/s relationship and is interested in doing it with me.
*end of whine*

Stages of sexuality

Over at Unspeakable Axe this topic has been posted for discussion and I am stealing it, with Axe's permission, because I would hate for him to find it in my virtual-pocket, all waded up, the letters slightly fuzzy from perspiration and used without him knowing I took it.

Here’s the description: The 30-40 Wasteland: “The BDSM community doesn’t lack for members of the older set. TNG too thrives. But what happened to our members between 30 and 40 (give/take a couple of years)? Is there a reason that this population is scarce and what can we do to bring them out more?

My theory, that I am going to regurgitate from what I wrote in the comments over there, is this:
Sexuality is experienced in stages throughout our lives partially because of biology but I think mostly because we live so much of lives in stages, especially socially.
In our teens, when our sexualities begin to become prevalent, we are incapable of understanding the complexity of our sexualities and are instinctively driven on a basal level; insert tab B into slot A.
Often it takes the entirety of our teens just to figure out the mechanics of inserting tab B into slot A, and if we really want to do insertion per the diagram we're given or if at all.
In my personal sexual history I am fairly certain that I didn't experience an orgasm from the time I started having sex at 16 until I went to college.
In my 20's I was figuring out the parameters of my sexuality and doing a whole lot of experimenting to get the answer. My experimentation included everything from discovering masturbation (first vibrator, first dildo), discovering sex with other females (beyond high school kissing and groping), experimenting with alcohol and sex, tossing in a few sexual experiences while on drugs, having a few experiments with numbers (3-somes, 4-somes) and answering the question, "Can you really do it in the back of a hatchback?"
I also experimented with the basics of BDSM but back in the day it was just called rough sex. Actually, I remember being called a freak for my sexual proclivities.
Some times it was said as a compliment and some times it wasn't.
I entered my 20's before the Internet entered mainstream so beyond the gay "Leather" magazines, badly produced misogynistic porn videos and an occasional trip to the sex clubs in the Tenderloin of San Francisco, I didn't have a healthy introduction to BDSM so although I was curious, I was also slightly scared of it.
I also spent the majority of my 20's putting a strangle hold on my sexuality with negative body image issues and struggling to become comfortable in my own skin.
I was convinced that I wasn't sexually attractive because I wasn't a carbon copy of the emaciated images I viewed in magazines, on billboards and on television.
Lacking self-confidence contributed to my insecurity in exploring my sexuality fully.
By 26 I was married and began to follow "The Plan" of owning a home with the white picket fence, starting a family, focusing on advancing my career and basically setting the foundation for the rest of my life.
Becoming an adult.
At 28 I became a mother.

There is a psychological shift that occurs when women become mothers regardless of their past sexual histories and beliefs surrounding sex; they shift into believing their sex lives are not mutually exclusive from their motherhood.
All of the sudden those short skirts and tall boots are shoved into a box and thrown into a cardboard box to be stored in the basement because those aren't clothes that a "mom" wears.
All the sudden it isn't conceivable to wield a whip on a tied up person that has a gag in his/her mouth because that isn't what "a mom" would do.
The concept of "Mother" is described by words like wholesome, maternal, loving, caring, nurturing, words that are in opposition of having a sexuality especially one that is kink focused.
Mom - think about it - the word doesn't evoke sexiness, passion or kink.
There is a standard for women who are mothers that is evoked the moment we give birth and although none of us know exactly what it is, we strive to become it and we understand it is necessary to become asexual to achieve it.
We understand becoming this way is the ONLY way we can be good mothers because good mothers are not sexual deviants.
There is also another component to being a parent; lack of time.
Children are like black holes that absorb time into an abyss from which it cannot be recaptured.
I remember days I didn't have time to shower let alone have a kinky scene.
I loved it when childless friends would say, "Just get a babysitter" as if other adults a) were available, b) were willing to babysit, c) were liked by my son and d) were trustworthy.
As children get older their schedules becoming increasingly demanding on a parent's time.
If you're a parent, I don't have to explain further, if you're not a parent and plan on becoming one, you'll get it when you have children.
It took until I was about 33 years old, to begin to understand that my entire identity was not wrapped up in the word "mom" as well as to become comfortable with my body.
I began, with my ex-husband, to explore again.
As it happened my marriage dissolved but the exploration we did together led me to be more active in the life-style and now, at the age of 38, I am as active as I can be as a single mother with a full-time job.
I think my experience follows the pattern of most people my age, especially women and I expect that as my son becomes more self-reliant and I become less worried about the impact my sexuality will have on him should I be "outed" that I will become even more involved.
I also believe that as I have aged I have become more sexually mature in understanding my sexuality is a part of myself that is healthy to express. I no longer think of myself as a "freak" or a "deviant" and perhaps it has helped to be able to connect with other like-minded people, to share experiences and ideas, to feel a part of a kink community.

Me and Humpty Dumpty...

When a scene goes wrong, it needs to be talked about, made part of the healing process as well as a learning experience.
Otherwise, the wound that was created will just become infected with an array of negative emotions that are flesh eating from the inside out.
It was too intense a conversation for me to have all at once or even face to face, I needed it in small processable pieces from a distance and that required days of texting, IM and emails.
I needed the detachment provided by the one dimensional conversation, the pauses to be able to wrap my mind around the information I was being given and to give my emotions distance so I wasn't reacting completely irrational.
There were moments, moments when he wasn't aware that his words were blaming and invalidating, that I was desperately struggling to hold onto rational thought to translate the meaning from what he said to what he meant.
There were moments I was overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions that my reaction was physical; crying until my tears were used up, screaming into a pillow until my throat was searing with pain and going into a walking emotional coma of nothingness; numbed.
At first he didn't understand the reasons I was broken.
Didn't I understand it was a scene, a fantasy?
Didn't I understand it was a fantasy he wanted to experience with me?
I began at the beginning; he didn't have my consent to involve me in a scene.
The difference from the beginning was consent.
It wasn't my fantasy, it was a trigger for a traumatic past experience, it was a boundary I trusted him to always respect.
He was selfish in not respecting it.
It was a selfish, inconsiderate and trust shattering "scene".
No, it wasn't his intent to cause me emotional pain, but the result was that he did.
I needed that acknowledgement.
I didn't need his defense of intent.
He gave me the acknowledgement I needed, the validation of my fear, my anger, my resentment and my heart break.
Trust is held in the heart so when it is broken, so is the heart.
I haven't forgiven him but I know I will and with time I will trust him again.

I know I will not remain always broken because as the trust is restored, as I know it will be, the pieces are put back together and the cracks are filled, I will become whole again.

Being broken...why bad scenes should never happen

I wasn't aware what was going to happen.
I had finished my nightly routine and had went to bed, falling asleep even before my head hit the pillow.
I stirred, not waking fully but just enough to shift positions due to the weight pressing on my leg, as I normally do to allow my dog to lay as he will at the bottom of my bed and put out my hand to pet him.
My hand rested on skin not fur, it was a male arm, then I remember my body reacting in a flurry of kicking and wailing of my arms as I screamed in terror even before my mind registered if it was reality or a dream.
Then he spoke.
His was a voice I trusted.
I stopped screaming, the rush of adrenaline my heart had pumped into my system like an exploding volcano had me sobbing as the terror left, no longer in need of the flight or fight response, leaving me shaking uncontrollably and suddenly depleted of any strength.
I was confused to be pushed, and not consoled, back onto my mattress before I was able to gain control of myself.
A knee came down on my arm, imprisoning it against the mattress, as the rope wound tightly around my wrist to be tied off to the bed.
My reactions were slowed by my confusion making my attempt to keep my free arm out of his grasp feeble.
I was being tied down.
I couldn't reconcile the person, someone I trusted with the activity of rope winding around my wrists and then my ankles, with the manhandling of my body and the ripping of my clothing.
I began to protest and found a ball gag shoved brutally into my mouth and fastened tightly.
Tears stung my eyes.
A cloth blindfold was wrapped around my eyes and secured tightly.
I was crying against the blindfold and sucking in the ball gag with my sobbing.
I wasn't emotionally prepared for the scene.
There was no thrill.
There was no heighten sexual response to the surprise of it.
There was no exhilaration from the helplessness.
There had been no consent.
It was a breaking of trust.
It was a violation of privacy.
It was brutal.
When it was over and he had untied me, he dressed and left.
I was in shock.
I desperately needed aftercare but I was left alone.
I felt broken.
I sat in the tub with the shower pouring water over me and cried until water ran cold and I was once again shivering.
I called a friend and she talked to me for hours until I was numb enough to fall asleep.
When I woke up in the morning, just a couple hours later, I knew he had damaged me but that I had to gather up the pieces of me that were left and put them back together.
I am still picking up the pieces...

I need a white flag, not a whip

Tonight I was suppose to be meeting with an attractive, articulate, interesting and submissive male who I have spent the last couple weeks having fun with in training "remotely" because he lives about an hour's drive from me and we hadn't been able to meet in person even after scheduling a few meetings.
As a single parent it is difficult to arrange to have the house to myself and even more difficult to arrange to have time for myself. To get both at the same time is practically an act of Congress.

Tonight the pieces all seemed to finally fall into place for us to meet; my son was to spend the night at a friend's house, I had arranged for him to be taken there so I could devote more time on preparing for my date/possible session and I had scheduled to leave work early so I could prepare my home for hosting a session, should we connect in person, and I truly thought we would since we were having such fun with the remote training.

When we IM'd in the morning I was excited at the prospect of finally having a session with a sub who enjoyed CBT and was open to allowing me to experiment with my sadist side, including cock and ball beating.

Not to mention he seemed genuinely interested in a long-term relationship, not just play dates.

He had even purchased a chrome plated CB6000 that he had in place the moment it arrived in the mail, express delivery, to replace the CB2000 we had been playing with during the last couple weeks.

He took this picture to send to me and I thought the chrome, not to mention the swollen balls, looked stunning!
I woke up this morning thinking of how delightful it would be to have him caged all day just so that he could present his cock and balls to me, and the key to the cage, for my toys.

The thought of whacking his cock and balls ebbed my exhaustion a bit and I began to look forward to the end of the day when we would meet.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of admitting to him that I was exhausted, as a means of tempering his expectations of our first session, should it happen and unknowingly changed the course of how my evening would play out.

Work was a disaster.

I had uncovered several issues that had to be immediately corrected or my company would be liable for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

It took a team of us, myself as the spearhead, to work on resolving the issues, so I was not able to be on IM at work as I usually am throughout the day.

As the day progressed I realized I would need to set back our meeting time by an hour in order to complete my work and to have time to "freshen" up.

I IM'd him to change our meeting time by one hour and the end result was him postponing, yet again, our meeting.

After my stressful day at work I was extremely disappointed because I had spent the day looking forward to our meeting and possibly a session in which I could take my frustration out in creative ways with a wood spoon, a hair brush and a whip on his cock and balls.

I needed a nice dinner with good company and then to administer a beating to alleviate my overworked mind and the stress in my body that was leaving knots.

To have him decide not to give that to me, as promised, quickly went from disappointment to being irritated and upset.

There was no question asked of, "Are you certain you rather not rest tonight?" or any concession made for the extra amount of time I needed, he just made the decision to cancel our date.

He took responsibility for the decision and my only choice was to abide by it.

It was all about him.

Yeah, some Domme I am, I change the order of my life to work around his schedule and than am left with my plans dropped in my lap at the last minute because he say so.

Right now I am feeling like the punchline to a not very fun joke.

I just can't seem to do this right. Maybe I should be considering my failures are due to my lack of having a true ability to dominate. Maybe I am giving myself too much credit in identifying myself as a dominant woman.

Gee, that sounds like a fun way to spend the evening...ironic, I was suppose to spend it beating a male submissive, now I'll just spend it beating up on myself.