Category: BDSM

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!

New friends and application of the rules

Reading Time: 3 minutes

On my slave’s Fetlife account, she has a profile.  In that profile, it details a good deal about her as well as touches on different portions of her ‘Fet Life’ so far.  One of the things I require her to have in it is what someone needs to do if they wish to ‘friend her’ on the site.  Specifically, they need to read her profile in its entirety and follow the directions embedded within.  If they can’t manage to do that, then they don’t deserve to be on her friends’ list.  That seems very fair if you ask me.  If you can’t do the work, you don’t get rewarded.   Her ex couldn’t manage to do this, so he didn’t get friended.

As in most social networks, or even personals sites, women’s in boxes get flooded.  Unless a male is offering something really special, their inbox hardly ever gets mail.  It’s been that way ever since I started before there was an established Internet and more than likely it will remain that way for as long as I’ll be online.   Just one of ‘those things’ you accept as being the norm and deal with it.  The reason I’m mentioning that is, my slave gets probably a good amount of mail from prospective people who read her profile to a certain extent, see her pictures or in other ways have interacted with her and wish to be part of her ‘inner circle’.  Others are hangers-on, or just want to add her to their friends’ list and never contact her again.  Like me, she’s not a friend collector, so her list of people she interacts with is small.  Myself, I’ve been on Fetlife for the better part of 10 years now and my own friends’ list numbers no more than 60 at any given time.

Every now and again she asks me if someone can be added to the list.  I decide on a case-by-case basis.  It’s an odds on bet that the person in question hasn’t necessarily followed the rules, and they’re asking for an exception to be made.  Or it’s someone she met at a munch or some other sort of get-together that she’s been to.  So I’ll scoot over to their profile, have a look-see, and if everything seems to check out, and I don’t feel there’s something untoward in their profile, I agree she can add them.  Of course, if after being allowed into the ‘inner sanctum’ they start to misbehave, or begin to make overtures about her interactions with them, I’ll inevitably hear about it.  My girl knows on which side her ‘bread is buttered’, she’s not going to just go off with someone because they have a good line or two to lay on her.  She’s content in being owned by me, she’s not interested in being owned by anyone else.  And that’s the way it’s going to always be.

Social networks are a great way for we as people to interact, to be in contact and to make new friends.  Even so, as tools, they need to be used with great care and respect.

Remedy

Reading Time: 2 minutes

The other day when I was at work, sitting in the breakroom after the end of my shift, I was texting to my slave.  She was at her workplace and lamenting over the fact that she was feeling tired, having not slept enough the night before (this is a recurring problem)  Being me, I had a remedy in mind that would work just fine in perking her up, though at the time I wasn’t entirely positive that she’d be interested in doing it, and I wasn’t about to jeopardize her job by having her be caught by a client doing something out of the way and out of bounds in what she should be doing.  So I mentioned I had a solution but wasn’t certain if she wanted to hear about it.  She (predictably) was curious and asked what it was.  I checked that she was sure she wanted to know.  She replied, yes, she did. To wit, here’s the conversation…As you might be able to tell, she wasn’t completely fazed by my suggestion. It wasn’t an order specifically, but she wanted to do it and she was good about it and obeyed. She was back a few minutes later and informed me that it worked like a charm. She was no longer tired, as a matter of fact, she was aroused, feeling very submissive,  and happy to have connected with me in this way.  Not that we need our bond solidified more than it is, but when you’re unable to be together whenever you wish, you have to make changes, create opportunities when and where you can.

After that, I went on home and she returned to work.  But it made us both smile.  And that’s a win in my book.

FB Jail

Reading Time: 2 minutes

After having trouble with the group on Facebook, I thought I would post some pictures to get the party going again.  Well, apparently that was a bad move.  At least with one of the pictures.  I wasn’t even considering implications, but I just landed in Facebook Jail.  Here’s Why:

FB-Jail I have to admit this is the first time I’ve ever been censored like this on Facebook. When I was posting this picture in concert with the other ones, it didn’t even occur to me that there was going to be a problem. Now that this happened it makes sense considering that A) It’s a public group, and B) Facebook has gotten a lot more restrictive over the years. Definitely not the Wild West it used to be.

I’ve made references about how bad its gotten over the months with making everyone adhere to specific requirements as well as making sure that any content is nearly G-rated before anyone else can see it.  Have to protect the kids, I suppose.  To the point that kids aren’t going to be able to fend for themselves when they grow up.  Between Tumblr and Instagram censoring and eliminating people’s accounts for what they term to be ‘questionable content’, and many people who have kink inclined interests being relegated away from ‘free’ sites, I just wonder at the end what the whole world is going to look like online and be like.  The Internet was supposed to be a place where anyone was welcome, and could share themselves.  Now I understand of course there are certain aspects of people’s lives that probably shouldn’t be shared, but sometimes self-policing is better than allowing the ‘thought police’ to have their way.

Anyway, I’m banned from posting or comment on FB for the next 24 hours.  Believe me, it’s not going be too much of a hardship.