Unicorn Stuff Part One: Less Than/Equal To

 

As I tiptoe back into playing/dating life, I have trouble getting my head around that one day. The day I thought I could have The Shy One for a boyfriend and Mrs. Shy One for at least a friend. I can’t overstate the fulfillment I felt in those 24 hours or so. Included. Appreciated. Was it over so quick because I wanted it so badly, because it scared me to death how badly I wanted it? Did I need to sabotage that happiness because it was too much to hope for?

Probably not. Probably what happened is what happened: Her overstep with the writing brought the truth out about my feelings, made the closet of it all more untenable, or made me see that it just was all along. I didn’t know how to make a boundary around my (broken, I hated to admit) heart, but I did know how to fiercely defend the writing. That part seemed clear—if it’s the writing or the cuties, it's got to be the writing.

But I did feel a DEEP fear around the happiness that was them, and only a fraction of that fear (maybe ¾? 5/8?) could be attributed to the present. I do have a unicorn chip on my shoulder. I “knew” I was going to be treated as less-than, vetoed, cast aside. I’m giving myself the assignment to read all my couple-trouble posts and see what exactly is wrong with me.

Confusingly, with The Shy Ones, my trouble wasn’t really with the hierarchy. I was more than ready to defer to the wife-and-kids of it all. I felt honored to put my desires on hold for Ramadan, to, in my own spiritual-not-religious way, submit to something higher. Even/especially since it wasn’t my something, even if the thing I was submitting to was just what time the sun set each day—that’s a lot. I liked letting myself be small, treating his life and his faith with honor and deference—it was one of the most meaningful relationship months of my storied life.

That lovely feeling of letting myself be small, the relief of bowing to him/them metaphorically if not literally, was possible because I felt equal as a human being. I was equally-but-differently valued, adored, and praised. When he momentarily balked at the idea of getting mail from me, that egalitarian feeling began to crack. When he told me I needed to pretend we were just friends if I posted pictures of him on my public feeds, the possibility of any kind of equal footing shattered.

Does that possibility of equal-not-the-same exist? I tried to make it clear to Mrs. Shy One that I knew the right role to occupy, but that I wanted to be seen as a whole person. I begged her not to see me as a threat (I should’ve been saying all this to him, I’m so sorry.) but I absolutely was a threat.

If I’d been allowed/allowed myself to love as much as I wanted to love him/them and if by some miracle he/they felt that big love back, all of our lives would have had to grow and change. They were years and years away from that kind of expansion, if ever.

In these lonely-then-less-so couple of weeks, I’ve asked myself over and over why I couldn’t fit, why being out of the closet with him was so important, why the deal broke when I really, REALLY didn’t want it to.

“I want my heart to be free.” I said, and I have compassion for myself about that, but what does it even MEAN? What good is a free heart when I’ve lost someone(s) so dear? I guess that’s what I aim to find out.

Knotty Thursday: The Adorables (More Couples Please!!!)

 

I think The Adorables want to be just friends, I haven't heard from them since our date-or-whatever on Sunday, but I'm totally in crushtown about them. So much so that I added "I would like to snuggle with some couples please!" to my Feeld profile.

I'd been texting back and forth with Mr. Adorable for a few weeks--thoughtful questions and mini-paragraphs, the text version of writing letters! LOVE IT. I hadn't really been looking for couples, but if you could see these two faces, you'd understand that I kinda HAD to hit on them.

After a few snow-and-life-related postponements, they arrived at my door Sunday afternoon, not too long after the Good Boy left. (I really am supergreedy sometimes. Total bi stereotype over here.) They brought red wine and those question cards meant to rescue parties from small talk--big talk all the way. I had THE BEST TIME answering questions with them, until I was like "Okay, one more question, then I'm gonna teach you some ropes."

I really didn't teach them anything--Mrs. Adorable likes to self tie, and I'm in awe of her creation.

I tied up Mr. Adorable. I was nervous and protective--he was so sweet and this was his first time, plus his gorgeous wife was right there being gorgeous--I couldn't get out of self-consciousness even a little bit til they worked together to very gently tie me up.

I was sad and a little lost when they left--I'd been too shy to ask for snuggles or any other kind of aftercare, note to self for future not-sure-what-kinda-connection-this-is play.

Now they're just-friends or ghosts, and I miss them. If I did anything wrong, I hope they'd tell me! I hope we'll cross paths again some day.

Saturday Night at the Dungeon: Oh, The Boss of Me

So, after I got home in all that unicorn afterglow last Saturday, I spent the day in bed reading (and being alternately horrified and inspired by) The Game, snoozing, and getting handsy with myself to dreamy mental images of Cute Master and Pretty Slave. That night, there was a choice between two parties—the one PS had invited me to, (where I’d been promised dancing and maybe a setup with a cute boy) and the Regular Dungeon (where I was hoping to run into the Boss of Me and Her Boy again). Dancing won since I had a hankering for it, and also for more time with PS.

The munch with the dancing was in the suburbs, in the kind of festive, wholesome venue where one’s family might throw an anniversary party.  The cute boy was a nonstarter, but I had the best time jumping around on the dance floor with PS and belting out “Call Me Maybe”—that really is exactly how I feel about her.

I didn’t feel like I was quite fitting there, and I wanted to give them some space to schmooze other girls if they wanted to, so I decided to say my goodbyes and drive over to the Regular Dungeon. The drive over was dreamy, just listening to whatever shuffled on and scrolling through all of the lovely new sensations that the last 48 hours had brought.

Since I hadn’t been planning on going to the dungeon, I didn’t have my suitcase or even cute underpants on! I guess that’s a lesson—I should stop pretending I want to be anywhere else on those particular Saturdays.

When I got there, I saw who I’d been looking for right away. The Boss of Me and Her Boy were standing around being adorable and watching several entranced couples who were in the midst of doing rope on blankets spread out on the floor. I’d sent her a note (with my phone number) explaining that I might not make it, but she hadn’t gotten the note and said they’d been looking for me. That gave me a little *squee* in my heart. He was in an adorable pastel rope collar and I said I wanted one too.

We went to the seating area at the back of the room, where we found Old-Timey Guy, Punk Rock Girl, and The Puncher. I was superhappy to see them and apologized for being such a ninny at their party a few weeks before.

The Boss instructed me to sit down and proceeded to make me a pretty pink rope collar. Boy, pink ropes really didn’t take too long to find their way back into my life! She petted me and hugged me, felt so soothing and her hair smelled so good. She said mine did too: “Good job taking a shower,” she said.

“Thanks!”

She shoved the leash part down my cleavage and suggested to The Puncher that he root around in there and get it out. He didn’t take her up on it, but he did sit down and chat and agree to flog me once The Boss was done with me. The four of us kind of sat there in a sleepy heap, taking in the sights and shrieks of the scenes going on around us. The Boss was so warm and snuggly that I would have fallen asleep on her, had Old-Timey Guy, who was demoing all of his toys for a new friend, not brandished the star-cane at me. I jumped up at the sight of it; I love/hate that thing so much. I pulled my pants down a little bit and grinned at the folks who were watching, suddenly as awake as can be. When he whacked me it did hurt, but I noted that it wasn’t as bad as it used to be.

“Well, you’re much more resilient than you were before!” he said.

Indeed! Go me.

After he was done showing off the star I was delivered back into The Boss’s arms—she really is such a good kisser and she’s so nicely rough with my boobs. Her Boy sat by, rosy-cheeked and smiling, and whenever I did something bratty (which was often) she told him he’d pay for it later. Don’t quite understand the math on that one, but it works for me.

I wanted a good, hard slap across the face, but she was a little hesitant and told me she’d only do it if I really pissed her off. She was in the process of binding me up but I still had my hands fee enough to grab the end of her long blond hair and pull hard. That made her mad enough, and she cuffed me hard across the left side of my face, grabbed my chin, squished up my face and told me I’d been a very bad girl, then slapped again.

“You’re laughing too hard, I don’t think you learned your lesson.”

She went behind me to finish binding my arms, and since my hands were right there I grabbed her crotch.

Just as I was saying “Who wears Spanx to the dungeon?” she was getting livid and forcing me to kneel and put my face against the wall.

“Why would you DO that? Did anyone TELL you you could?”

“Um, no?”

She pulled down my pants exposing my not-cute undies to the room and started to spank hard.

“You’re just going to have to tell me you’re sorry!”

I laughed and wiggled my ass until she forced me to lie on my belly on the flat bench. Her spanks were quick and stingy and I screamed and hollered and fussed.

When it was done, we snuggled for a moment but it was getting close to the end of the evening so I ran right over to The Puncher next—he is as handy with his flogger as he is with his fists, applying the pressure in such a way that it goes straight through to my hoo-ha. He’s an excellent cuddler too—I must’ve given him fifty hugs after.

I walked The Boss of Me and Her Boy to her car and they drove me back to mine, telling me their real names in the process. I’m excited that she’s in my phone now and is a fan of this emoticon: <3 Can never get too many of those!

Kissed, Punched, and a Little Sadistic, Part Two: A Rope Daydream and My Winggirl Has to Go Buy Panties

Friends, the day might come before too long when I might learn the knots and start tying up good, sweet boys. As I sat around with Pretty Slave and Cute Master snuggling and watching the crowd, such a cute scene unfolded on the bench across from us.  They were a youngish couple, clearly smitten with each other, and the girl had the boy all done up in fairly tight but mostly decorative ropes. To add to the heartstring-tugging, their ropes were pink.

She pinched and prodded him some, but mostly she kissed and caressed him. The rope bottom guy reminded me a little bit of CBATP—same scruffy-but-sweet face, similar deer-eyes. Something about this bottom’s docile, adoring expression just woke something up in me, and I started to understand what was behind the expressions I’d sometimes enjoyed seeing on Doms’ faces: proprietary and protective, sweet and whole. Because ropes stir up such deep emotions, I feel like that kind of play might be a ways off, but it’s so cool to have felt those things.

I think it’s important right now not to over-identify with these feelings, but just try and slow down and experience them. I’m such an unformed cloud of energies and urges, I just need to sort of go with them without attaching or trying to pin myself down to any one identity or role. Not-attaching is so not my strong suit, but still!

Winggirl One pulled me out of my rope-inspired reverie when she came over with her CVS bag. She doesn’t wear undies and you need them to play at the Regular Dungeon. The resourcefulness of the moment cracked me up. Plus, she gave me the rest of the pack.

I stayed in my seat and she bent over in front of me, pulling down her pants. I reached up and pulled her shirt up most of the way, just for the sense of power pulling her out of her clothes gave me. I spanked her for a while, finding it easy to get a good rhythm going with so many spanks going on around me.

She wanted to kneel down so we switched spots. Kneeling on the bench, her face was kind of smushed into the wall. (I’d enjoy the same feeling shortly thereafter…) Cute Master showed me the best way to pull her hair, and then he and I high-fived. I think this is my record for most high-fives in a dungeon night!

When we finished, I gave her a big hug and told her she’d done an excellent job. She returned the compliment.

While being the spanker is still not the thing I go bonkers for, I like that I can give my subby friends a little extra fun in their evening. I also like the feeling of strength that comes out in me when I do it—I think the power-surge that came from topping served me very well throughout the rest of the evening. Also! Sexy arms are one of my goals and it was quite the workout!

Next: I watch, I get hit, I hold a girl down, and so on, and so on…

Unicorn Practice Is Easy, Part Three: Spanks, Snuggles, a Little Melancholy

I’ve noticed that the amount I need to negotiate and be oriented in a scene is proportional to how serious my feelings are for the top involved. In the right party situations, I feel perfectly safe throwing caution to the wind and bending over for near-strangers-I guess that’s because I’m starting to have faith in my friends and in my yesses and nos.

At some point in the party, of course I managed to do something punishable, possibly related to trying to get my underpants back, and Cute Master commanded me to kneel on a chair and stick my ass out. Don’tmindifIdo! He’s a good, hard spanker—I wiggled and laughed and squealed and even let somebody (I’m not even sure who) tickle my feet. I love how things are so easy sometimes, how once in a while life just throws things in my lap. I’d like to let that be the case more often.

Speaking of which, he made me laugh harder than I’ve laughed in a long time when he next decided to express his flirtation through the medium of ironic lap dance. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to laugh so hard…

Anyway, I hated to leave when it was time to go. I pulled my underpants out from where he’s stashed them—in between the string s of Pretty Slave’s corset. Knowing where else they’d been, I didn’t put them on, but pulled on my leggings, had someone hook my bra, and put on my dress. Cute Master and Pretty Slave were snuggled up on a couch when I went to say goodbye.

“No, come here first,” he said. “I want to see if you’re wet.”

And I totally was gonna say no, except that Die Antwoord’s “Baby’s On Fire” came on and I really can’t resist having hijinx to that song. It feels like (*high five*) one of the sluttiest things I’ve ever done, but I went ahead and straddled him, let him find out that of course I was wet. He rubbed my clit and I felt a sense of calm come over me, kind of like when you’re little and you’re half-asleep and being carried up the stairs. I relaxed into him and held on.

He pulled his hand out and put it in Pretty Slave’s mouth, and she happily sucked, looking at me in a hungry/sweet way.

It’s time to stop pretending I don’t like some pretty porny stuff. That’s the part I’ve thought of the most during personal time since then.

I reached over and petted her, running my hand down her neck, playing with her hair, holding her lovely hand. She ran her hand very gently over chest, finding my nipple and giving me a perfect shiver. Her face was so close to mine and her expression was blissful.

And then the song ended. I hugged them both and gave her a teensy bit of a goodbye kiss. Cute Master grumbled about blue balls but! The beach!

Any party I leave with my underpants in my hand is a good one and I drove home super turned on and excited to get handsy with myself, and I was proud and happy to have made new friends, but there was a melancholy to it, too. I passed the diner where I first met the Steampunks and wondered how things would’ve turned out if I’d been more ready for them, more confident and self-aware. I think things happened exactly the way they were supposed to, but I still miss them a lot and feel hurty for the experiences I may have missed out on. I can’t quite let go of the fantasy of them, of snuggling into their bed. I wanted them to be my first a lot of things.

But! I’m glad I still feel like high-fiving Steampunk Guy whenever I’m being awesomely slutty, and they’re both keeping in touch. And I’m starting to see how I can keep myself entertained until I’m healed and ready to resume the quest for love--that is a very, very good thing.

Unicorn Practice Is Easy Part Two: My Lucky Underwear Down His Pants

 

I wish I could give you identifying characteristics of the party from last Friday night, because it was a doozie. It hit the spot in a wide variety of ways. A pretty friend of mine even let me take off her dress—I didn’t even know I wanted to DO that! But that’s not what this story’s about.

I’m taking a break from romance until my home situation is ironed out, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep having adventures. It’s impossible to turn off the flirt anyway. I went to the party with very little agenda other than to catch up with friends, but of course one always hopes that spanks might happen. I wore my short black and white dress that Steampunk Guy inspired me to buy a few months back, with leggings and a shiny red bra that matched my red satin heels. I couldn’t stay long because I had to drive to the beach in the morning, but I accomplished a lot of fun in two drinks’ worth of time.

Let’s call them Cute Master and Pretty Slave. I noticed them as soon as they came in the door. She’s a tall dark-haired knockout and he has that confident, cheery glow that well-sexed men tend to have—very appealing. Once they were settled into the party, I struck up a conversation with him and then she came and sat at his feet. She was wearing a fitted lacy black dress and a collar. I asked them all about their adventures and liked hearing about them fucking in all kinds of nice show-offy situations.

I asked them what advice they might have for a new unicorn.

“The unicorn can do no wrong. You’re what everyone’s looking for.”

When he said that, I had the sensation of sitting in a throne like a princess, the world at my feet. Knowing the realities of secondary-ness in general, I suspected that that might not be the whole story, and a friend standing behind me confirmed it:

“They don’t know what they’re looking for. And they don’t know what to do when they get it.”

Huh.

(I just want to stop and note that wanting to practice playing as a supporting character doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten that I want my own guy. Just I’m not ready for him yet and I still want to have fun. Plus! People are hot and I am alive.)

Cute Master is a goofball and an instigator. You know I love making friends with good bad influences. When I expressed (uncharacteristic!) hesitation about being the first one naked, he insisted that Pretty Slave take her dress off as encouragement. She stripped down to her corset (Oh such lovely little boobs peeking out the top. Picturing them I wish I’d gotten a little more handsy.) and panties, and I stripped down to nothing. Cute Master stuffed my underwear down the front of his pants, a cheeseball move that I found hilarious.

“Suck her nipple,” he said to Pretty Slave. I was sitting in a chair and she was on the floor. She looked up at me kinda wide-eyed and asked if she could, and I nodded, nervous-but-emphatically. It was the first time I’d been touched that way by a woman who isn’t Sweetie since the year 2000. Her mouth on me felt strange and new and I felt tentative at first but gave in to it, burying my head in her nice-smelling hair as she licked and sucked, gently running my hands over her back. He took the other nipple and sucked too hard (They’re my favorite part of me but sosensitive!) until I had to smack him in the back of the head and the spell was momentarily broken.

Unicorn Practice is Easy Part One: Note to Self

Hooray, the nice couple from Friday night gave me the go-ahead to write about them, but first here's some information I wish I'd had a few months ago:

How to Hit on a Couple:

1. Pick the cutest couple in the place.
2. Ask them if they have any advice for a new unicorn.
3. Flirt with them until they're doing stuff to me.