Category: BDSM

Collar 2.0

Reading Time: 2 minutes

I remember talking to myself about this when the first one was lost so soon after it was presented.  I remember at the time promising myself the next one (though there should never have beennext one) was going to be more permanent, or at the very least harder to get off, so it wouldn’t be laid aside, and possibly be lost.  But after a year and a half, here we go again.  However, unlike the last one, the clasp is a bit more sturdy and less likely to come loose at a moment’s notice.  Still, the links are made out of aluminum, not steel, so it’s not impermeable either.  It’s going to have to be cared for, to be sure it’s around for the long haul.

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to present it to her personally, I’m forced into mailing it to her, which admittedly is a bit impersonal, and I’d rather not have to do it this way.  Our next meeting isn’t going to be until the spring however, so this is going to be the best that we can accomplish.

We’ll see how it goes.  If this one gets lost or broken, I’m going with Ring of Steel, or Eternity.

Not the anniversary I was aiming for

Reading Time: < 1 minute

Well, it has been a year since I last saw her. Around 10-10:30am last year on this day, she got in her Explorer, I got in my Edge and she headed south, and I made my way back north. Tears were shed on both sides, as more than anything else I wanted to pile her into my vehicle and drive her home with me. But that wasn’t the reality, and even though I let her have my gray museum cap as a reminder, I fully expected to see her again in a few months, and she was going to bring it back to me.

I was going to hash it out all over again, but I’ve already written about this too much. This is not the anniversary I wanted to be having today.

Investing for the future

Reading Time: 5 minutes

My slave and I had a small conversation this afternoon, that sort of started when I arrived home from running errands with my wife.  It was a continuation of a conversation (after a fashion) she and I had been having over the last few days.  

She’s been having trouble getting used to using Spotify without the fancy doodads that are included with a paid membership.  I’ve been paying for her membership for the most part over the last year.  It ran out sometime in the last week or so, and the lack of the ability to fast forward as well as other expectations were getting to be a little much for her.  There was a veiled mention of the fact this week is National Nurse’s Aide Week, and generally, on those sorts of weeks, the professional or worker in question gets a gift.  Usually from their employer or a spouse, in recognition of the work that the person does and doesn’t necessarily get noticed or rewarded. 

I looked it up and yes it certainly is that particular week, and since none of her family were likely to be moved to give her anything, much less her employer (the CEO sent out a blanket statement to the workforce, thanking them for their hard work, their dedication and so on, basic boilerplate in lieu of anything more substantial, like money for instance) I was intending to extend her Spotify membership anyway, as a reward for all of her hard work and dedication and because sometimes its the right thing to do.  

Of course, I hadn’t done it right away, so there was a text message this afternoon for all intents and purposes pleading with me to re-up ASAP since she was really having a hard time without it.  My response in this instance was typically me “Oy”.   I also made reference to a saying that I have whenever someone says something is driving them crazy.  I would have thought after 3-4 years of knowing me, she would have known about it, and I even suggested she could earn brownie points for it, but no, she didn’t.  I had to clue her in about it.  Again.

Person #1:  I can’t stand it anymore, it’s driving me crazy!

Person #2: Y’know, it’s not so much a long drive, as a short putt.

Yes, I think it’s funny.  Honestly, I don’t care if you don’t.  If you do, woo woo and a ^5.

At this point, I made an off-hand comment about needing to make an Amazon shopping list, since there were several other things I knew she was out of, and with money being tight, unlikely she was going to be getting them anytime soon.  Naturally, once I put one thing in the cart (sunscreen) others started popping to mind that she was going to need in the near future.    At some point, I asked a question I hadn’t inquired about for many months.  Whether or not she had a decent pair of shoes for work.  As expected, the answer was no, she was still wearing ones she got from the dollar store, of all places.  So back to Amazon to seek out a sturdy pair of nurse’s shoes, that will last longer than however long dollar store shoes last.  Five minutes would be my off-handed guess on that one.  

Naturally, I found several possibles, but the designs on them were fairly hideous.  Does no one make shoes in plain white, or black anymore?  After more time than I thought I would spend on this mission, I finally came across a pair of Skechers that would do well.  Made certain of the sizing, and put them in the cart.  

Lastly, I asked about her medications.  In for a penny, in for a pound, right?  After some banter, and back and forth, she admitted that she was out of two important ones that are OTC, and could be ordered from Amazon.  Popped them into the cart, along with some generic Aleve and I was pretty much done.  I added in the Spotify gift card and called it complete.  During the final part of the conversation, we covered the one thing we always do, when she tells me “You don’t have to do this.”   Believe me, slave, I know I don’t have to.  But I also know no one else is going to help out.  You may not be blood, but in a very important manner, you’re my responsibility.   So I do what I can when I can.  If positions were reversed, you’d be doing this as well.  We’ve had that particular conversation more times than I can count.

I closed out the cart and put the shipping information in, my CC info and pressed the ‘Place the Order’ button.  It’s on its way to her and should arrive by Saturday.  I know she’s grateful, I know she’s also a bit melancholy that I had to bail her out again.  Should be a trifecta when she reads this and sees I posted about it.  

In for a penny, in for a pound.  I’m investing in our future.  At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Crossroads

Reading Time: 3 minutes

I look at the calendar.  Another day passed since I saw her last.  I can still remember what she looked like, what she smelled like when we parted.  I gave her the hat I purchased for myself at the museum so that she had something else of mine to keep close to her.  At the time, we had been planning to get together again in a couple of months.  But that didn’t happen.  Then more suggestions of when to get together.  Those didn’t happen either and winter set in.  

During winter, it was as if there was a wall set up around one of the state borders, and it was made of ice and snow.  Where she lives, it occasionally snows, not as it does in the Mid-Atlantic region where I reside.  Too, her vehicle isn’t completely reliable in many ways, so driving a good distance isn’t recommended.  Another roadblock of sorts, that keeps us apart.  Of course, at this point, we talk about the big bugaboo, money.  Working full-time when you’re living alone doesn’t afford you a lot of ‘mad money’, or funds for outside activities.  Especially when you’re in an industry that doesn’t pay all that well, even when one has the experience.  So saving money ends up being literally nickels and dimes, which doesn’t afford one the ability to be free to travel.  The last two times we got together, I either paid the lion’s share of the costs or accepted what she could at that time afford to contribute.  The first time I rented a car and drove 10 hours to see her.  The second time, we met approximately midway between the two of us.  That time I drove the family vehicle.  I have to admit, I was pretty shocked how much it cost to rent a vehicle for a week the first time.  Astronomical was the word I believed I used then.

As the days count down towards the one year mark for the time we’ve been apart, it makes me more and more melancholy.  Sure, we keep in touch via social media, phone calls, texts and the like, but it’s most definitely not the same thing as being there.  Spending time with her, even if it’s just sitting on the couch, watching television together, or her sliding down off the couch to rest her head on my knee while we’re doing whatever.  Having that physical contact is key, and it’s what we’re missing. I hear about her adventures with her poly family, and honestly, it bothers me that she gets to have adventures, and I don’t.  I’ve been sitting here spinning my wheels for 344 days.  Too, it reminds me of the collar fiasco.  I thought about getting her another one, but if I’m not there to see it, to enjoy seeing it on her, what’s the point?  And besides, it’s another outlay of my money for her benefit.  So it too got shelved.

Finally, I’ve given up shopping for toys.  I have so many here that have no purpose, no use, other than taking up space in the house.  My wife looks at them, then at me, and doesn’t ask the question we both know she’s thinking.  “what are you going to do with all this stuff??”  Honestly, right now….nothing.

Ugh, this is hard to write.  But its harder still to endure.  I have no idea what the solution is, but I am extremely tired of waiting.  And watching.  And observing.  And being left out.

Bedtime.  Good night.

Time and Experience

Reading Time: 2 minutes

I was thinking the other day, since I don’t have an active partner to play with, at least not here.  Still.  But as I said, I was thinking about all the time that I’ve spent in the scene, and how much of it I’ve actively participated.  When I say ‘participated’, I mean actually being there, with someone else, playing interactively.  Not online, not in a chat room, or on the phone, hot texting one another, or writing elaborate paper mails to one another, then waiting for them to read it several or many days later.  Then waiting again for the return letter and so on.

Actual ‘in the trenches‘ play time.  Where you get your hands dirty (as well as some other things).  Doing a little figuring, I came up with a rather sobering total.  And it wasn’t pretty.  By my estimation I’ve been part of the BDSM scene since I was about 18.  I’m not going to go into the nuts and bolts of that, because it’s not a good conversation to have here.  So let’s say 18 for the sake of argument, or who else might be reading things.  I’m now almost 54.  So that’s 36 years between the two.  In all of that time, what I would term my active experience comes out to a little less than 6 months.   6 MONTHS.  Told you it was a sobering thought.

Even now it makes me wonder how all of that time managed to skate past.  Though I know the old adages; Life gets in the way, finances don’t always come together, and the most often one, there’s no one to play with.  So you just sit back on your heels, live your ‘other’ life, and try to keep your hand in the game, by watching others enjoy themselves, going to munches, networking, doing a little negotiating, perhaps attend a play party here and there, but me, not being the voyeuristic type, doing that is just maddening, because I’m not a good watcher.  And yes, as I’ve mentioned time and again, building up a nice toy collection.  That now as before gathers dust in a couple bedrooms in my house.

Just throwing this out here, since it’s been hanging around in my head for a few days now and I need it out in the open.  Thanks for listening/reading.

“Good morning, mine”

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Communication is one of the main linchpins to any relationship, that goes without saying.  Keeping the lines open is necessary for forging ahead with anything else that you do, for if you don’t, how can you keep the other apprised of things that are happening in your head, much less what can be possible elsewhere in the relationship?  To that end, every morning, I write a message to my slave.

With all my other D/s relationships, it started out pretty differently.  They were required to write to me, and during the course of the day I would either respond in email or we’d meet up on IRC or whatever other method we were using to keep in touch.  I’ve never really had a BDSM relationship with someone who lived here with me long-term, at least no one that was directly involved in my orbit.  (We’ve had submissives living with us in our home, but they weren’t my subs, they belonged to my wife)  Certainly I would have preferred to do it the other way, but circumstances just never matched up so that the subs/bottoms I found were local to me.  Such is the way of my world, y’know?

As I’ve mentioned before, my current slave/pet lives several states away from me.  We’ve been trying to figure out how to get together more often, but the old bugaboo of money keeps getting in the way.  So in the interim, we’re relegated to phone calls, texts, emails and the like to keep in touch.  I start out every morning with a message to her (well, it’s usually mornings), and she responds when she has the chance. Lunchtime (if I’m at work) I send her another message, and again she responds (as time permits).  After work, the same thing and so on.  Days off for me are a little more hit and miss, since I’m not rising at the same time as I would be for work, I get busy with this and that, and often (to her chagrin) I forget to post the message in a timely manner.   Nobody’s perfect, and she understands that.  I do what I can, when I can.

But, a little bit of something from someone who you’re connected with helps.  That’s pretty much my message here.  Try not to get despondent if its been many months since the last time you’ve laid eyes on one another.  Try to be upbeat.  If you can, send something along to them (or they to you) to remind them of yourself or vice versa.  I read on another blog about how a Dominant sent his submissive a bottle of his favorite cologne, so his submissive could spritz it on a shirt and sleep with it, or have something that smells like him around so she could be closer in a manner of speaking.  I thought that was a fantastic idea and I implemented it.  Now granted I don’t normally wear cologne, but there’s a certain fragrance that I’ve always preferred.  Along with some other items, I bundled the bottle I had in my bathroom cabinet up and sent it to my girl.  She’s been using it (sparingly I hope!) in the manner to which I described, and it helps melt the miles a bit.  She also has clothing of mine, as well as a flogger I presented her early on in our relationship.

Finally, I have a counter at the bottom of this blog.  It tells me (and anyone else that cares to look) how long its been since the last time I’ve seen her.  In person. 20180629_102821.jpgI remember vividly where I was, and how long it took for her vehicle to vanish from my sight.  I want to see her again, and could have if I chose to be the one to afford the trip, but we’ve agreed I’m not doing that anymore.  A relationship is a two-way street.  Both sides have to support it in all ways.  So it may take a little longer, but I’ll see her again.

Scouting out sites for play

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Even though I don’t get the opportunity all that often to play, due to the necessities of the LDR that I’m presently in, it doesn’t stop me from looking around and planning ahead for when the time comes for us to be together.  Even though I live in a house that’s nearly 200 years old, it wasn’t necessarily designed with BDSM play in mind.  The rooms for the most part are small, with high ceilings, and the construction of the walls and ceilings aren’t really conducive towards adding things like anchor points or what would be called ‘hard points’ in the trade, ie: items or things that can be used for tying rope or attaching chain to when restraining someone.

I suppose I could get some lumber or a shipment of pipe and construct a piece (or several pieces) of furniture that would do the same thing (or purchase one from a variety of sellers I’m aware of).  Too, I’ve been contemplating taking welding classes so I could in the far-flung off future create my own diabolical devices, but that’s a ways off.  This is more about places elsewhere that we can play, that would sort of be off the beaten path as it were, and wouldn’t necessarily involve trespassing or being caught in places we’re not supposed to be, either by the landowners, or by the police type authorities.

There are several play-spaces nearby that can be utilized, and I have one scene friend in particular who has in the past offered me use of her in-home dungeon.  I did a favor for her a couple of years ago, and she graciously offered me use of her play space.  I didn’t take her up on it at the time, since the situation between my slave and I was in a different space, and I wasn’t entirely certain she was going to be visiting.  As it turned out I was right.  She didn’t and I wasn’t in need of the space at that time.  I’d have to check to see if the invitation is still open (fairly sure it is), and then make use of it if we’re both agreeable.

The only roadblock to using the play-spaces I alluded to in the previous paragraph is, they’re public play-spaces and usually would be active with a play party of the organization at the time.  They’re not rent-able by private parties, so my girl would have to be comfortable playing in public and at this juncture I’m fairly certain she’s not.  So, while a good idea, it’s going to have to be shelved for the time being.  But waiting also has its downfalls, as play-spaces don’t always stay open long-term.  People get out of the scene all the time, things happen and places close.  It all can be pretty fluid like in all things.  It has a lot to do with money and people getting older and less interested at times.

There’s one place where I live that I would dearly love to either rent or purchase, because it would be ideal for a play space of my own.  It’s an old meat-packing building, though it sits in the off-side of town, and there are residential houses nearby.  Even so it could be easily converted for use, although there have been rumors of it being used by homeless people over the years, and it’s probably in pretty cruddy shape by now.  To me, if I came into a good chunk of money, I’d probably take the chance, but I’ve never been inside the building, so it’s a pipe dream at this juncture.  Just something I’ve always wondered about, thought about and dreamt of.   I actually equate it to the former studios of Insex on J Street in Brooklyn.  Oh, if those walls could talk!