Being a Switch Is Awesome, Part Two: Fire Tickles and Old-Timey Guy

As I was finishing up with The Puncher’s Girl, the Fireman’s Girl (Who, it should be said, is less a girl than a grown-ass woman a more than a decade older than me and light-years hotter. We should all be so lucky!) came over to tell me that it was my turn for fireplay. I went over to the area where the massage tables were set up, handed a nice guy my wings and halo (left on the pretty shoes) and was told to lay down on my belly. Another fire-helper showed me a case full of paintbrushes as the fire Dom asked if I was ticklish.

“Um…a little bit,” I said a warily, but decided to let it happen.

It felt good to be back under the flames, warm hands running over my back and legs. There was none of the romance and Daddy-ness of my Fireguy; this was more like a really excellent massage. With gentle hands on me and the comfort of knowing people were watching, I very nearly fell asleep.

Then he told me to turn over and I got to watch the fire. He dabbed the rubbing alcohol along my legs and belly and then lit the brief flames. There was sometimes a quick burny sting, but mostly just all the warmth. He found a ticklish spot on the right side of my waist (Hey! I even sort of HAVE a waist these days!)  and made the most of it. I held back the laughs at first but he goaded and encouraged me until big shrieky guffaws came out. The Fireman’s Girl was watching from another table and smiled with me every time I got the giggles. So did the spectators watching behind my head. This was a particularly smiley dungeon night.

After I thanked the Fire Tickler for his care, I felt all relaxed and sleepy but also reallyreally ready to get spanked. I asked Cute Master, but he was utterly uninterested—I guess that’s just the end of that. Super frowny face, but also, next!

Old –Timey Guy was all tired out from a day at the Renaissance Fair so I didn’t think he’d do it, but when I mentioned what I needed to Punk Rock Girl, she asked him and he said of course. This is why they’re the awesomest. I may have graduated from having them as protectors, but they still take such good care of me.

He tied my wrists together with my pretty-but-not-super-effectual satin cuffs, and I knelt down on the bench where I’d just spanked TPG. Old-Timey Guy said to leave on my wings and halo, they wouldn’t get in the way. A spectator who’d been avidly watching my girl-spankings raised his eyebrows, smiled big, and said “OH, now it’s YOUR turn.”

Hence the title of these posts. The endorphins of topping and fireplay, combined with the above-mentioned awesomeness of my Dom-of-the-moment made this session utterly, triumphantly delicious. He started with his hands, spanking and eliciting moans of happiness and relief right away. It felt so good that I was making sex-noises, groaning and sobbing and wiggling my ass for more.

Once he’s warmed me up with spanks, he moved on to my favorite strap: sure, thuddy whaps interspersed with little stings. He pulled me close to his front to hold me still and I lost myself in the sensation, intimate and animal, pressed against his junk and wriggling to get closer still. I truly felt like I was going to come—some day before long, it’s gonna happen like that, and it might make a MESS. That’s how much I felt his impact, all the way in somehow.

By the time I moved up to the flogger, I was pulsating with joy, getting ready to float right up off the earth. When he was finished, I told him he’s a nicenice man and asked for a few extra hugs.

I told him I think he’s one of my most successful playpal situations. At no point have I ever felt a bit of fuss or about him, and every single time he hits the spot better and better. I really appreciate the place he has in my life. (Mostly, behind me.)

Next: How to get more snuggles: beat up a boy.

Being a Switch is Awesome Part One: Being an Excellent Spanky Winggirl

I had a very hard week last week—my job is seeming impossible at times and my body spent the whole work week fighting the urge to run away, leading to depressed exhaustion. I’m going to try and advocate for some changes, but over the weekend the only way to make it better was to spend time feeling competent, safe, and happy. So off to the dungeon I went.

I’m not usually one for costumes, but while I was out running some sex-toy errands I saw the above angel wings and satin cuffs and got inspired. I didn’t have any good-girl white underpants though, so I just went with my lucky ones. Actually, I think all of the underpants are my lucky ones lately.

It was Winggirl One’s birthday and she’d asked me if I knew any Doms I could introduce her to. I didn’t, but it occurred to me that if I invited my Asker-Outer guy from last week, I could test out his spanking skills and then pass him on to her if he did well. He had other plans but liked the idea of me coaching him into the local kink scene. Of course I’m almost as new at it, but I know what I like and I think I can show him—I got a warm feeling in my belly from that plan and assured Winggirl One that she would at least get spanks from me.

Anyway, so when I got there, I was happy/sad to see Cute Master and Pretty Slave at the bar. Even though I know it was the right thing to break things off with them, I felt terrible about not having that connection. She buried her face in my glitter-covered cleavage and I just wished I could whisk them away. She’s so pretty, you guys, I can hardly stand it.

Apparently, she felt the same, since she said: “You’re too pretty, go home.”

“You’re too pretty too! Let’s all go home.”

And we all wished we could but agreed that I oughtn’t fall for them. Supersigh.

The Fireman’s Girl (you may remember her draped pinup-style across the Huge Handed Fireman at that Labor Day party I loved so much…) was there too, and was, somewhat appropriately, waiting in line for fireplay. She convinced me to join the line, too. I’d run across a street fair with fire-juggling earlier in the day (as one does) and had been hankering to be set lovingly on fire. There were four fireguys working that night, none of them the Fireguy from this story. I love that the Fireman’s Girl was egging me on so encouragingly, what a good influence!

Winggirl One came over to watch and wait with me. A cute guy was watching next to her so she said hello, and I saw my chance to instigate some fun. “It’s her birthday!” I said helpfully, and from there they took it right to spanking. It was agreed that I would warm her ass up and then he would take it from there. Huzzah! Winggirl mischief managed. I asked one of the fireguys if I could be next and when his response was (ha) lukewarm, I decided I was bored of waiting.

Winggirl One’s new friend and I led her over to a kneeling bench and had her strip down to her (my) Hello Kitty nipple tape and sheer teal panties. I promised to remember this time that she doesn’t like wedgies the way I do. The DJ was having such a good ear for spanking rhythms, and after I asked her to give me a hand signal if it got too stingy, I got right into the rhythm of it.

Everyone should have the experience of spanking somebody while wearing lingerie, pretty shoes, angel wings, and a halo. I’ve never felt hotter. The more I got into the beat, the bigger my grin got. Joy was just shining up through me like a beam of sparkling light. It was a charge not just of power, but of I-can-do-this. I loved that my friend was smiling big and everyone who was watching was smiling too. I figured she was warmed up and handed her over to the guy, high-fiving him with my not-sore-yet left hand.

But I wasn’t done. The Puncher’s Girl had told me she’d take all the aggression I had, so I aimed to sneak up behind her, grab her by the hair, and pull her over to another free kneeling bench. She caught me, though, and I led her over in a more civil manner. She told me to hit her as hard ad I could and wiggled her ass with joy.

She looked beautiful, everybody. She was in a blue lace leotard and had matching bright blue eyeshadow. Her long, dark, wavy hair was streaming over the bench like a princess. When I wasn’t yanking on it, I was smoothing and arranging it to look even more princessy.

“You look so pretty and you’re being so good. You’re such a very nice young lady.”

She smiled and cooed and wiggled some more and I pressed her against my front to hold her still. I hit her harder and harder until my hand started to hurt and she offered to go get me a paddle.

“Are you sure? I’ve never used one before. Will you tell me if I mess up?”

She assured me that she would and went to their toy bag to get a smallish paddle.

“It’s just like a hand, but wood,” she said.

I tested it a little and found a good spot.

“Right there,” she said “If you have any rage you want to get out, that’s the place to do it.”

It’s hard to be mean to someone so sweet but I went ahead and let it out, let myself lose control a little bit, even if I couldn’t help checking every so often if she was okay. I love hitting her. She feels so lovely underneath me, my right hand pressing down on her back between her perfect shoulder blades, my left hand wielding the paddle. Sweat dripped down. I felt like a goddess. I pulled her up, hugged her and thanked her. She said that if I wanted to, I could use her ass to learn all the tools.

Next: Fire tickles!

Naughty Birthday Wishlist for the Coming Year

1. I wish for a lot more time with Sweetie, both vanilla and otherwise. We haven’t been connecting as much as we’d like lately, and I’d like to have my pretty pink ropes rubbing up against my stuff very soon. Holding her, petting her, and reading library books with her would be good too.
2. I wish (for like the millionth time) for my gentleman rope top. I want to spend a lot of time in a collar, being his. I want to be over his knee, in ropes, struggling or forgetting to struggle, feeling loved and breathless and anchored and warm, and then later, pretty sore. And then I want him to make me mixtapes and tell me I’m adorable and come hang out with Sweetie. Of course, this might be a job for more than one guy, oh darn.
3. I wish to continue the love affair I have been having with my ass. Earlier this year I discovered just how much I like to put things in there when I’m alone, and now I would like others to please put stuff in there as well. “Start with a finger and work your way up, Sir” would be a wonderful thing to say to somebody someday.
4. I wish for no more tanlines next summer, and I nice naked man to go to the beach with, who can throw me around and kiss me in the waves.
5. I wish to go to Floating World with my friend Angelface and see what kinds of hijinx we can get into.
6. I wish for lots and lots and lots of PIV sex. Somehow it tends to get neglected. I need to be held down and fucked silly, I need my head banged up against the headboard, car window, whatever. I want to be so loud that I wake up all of the neighbors and metamours. Also I would like to have a dick in my mouth a lot more often.
7. I wish for more teenage-style making out at concerts and more spankings in parking garages.
8. I wish for many different scenes with many different combinations of people. I’ve been remiss in my unicorn practice, but I’m sure there are a lot of lovely wives who could hold me down while their husbands do god-knows-what to me.
9. I wish to continue falling in love with my body, discovering all the miracles it has to surprise me with.
10. I wish to be set on fire some more, literally and figuratively.

Various Happy Things: You Are What You Love

They don’t really fit the traditional mold of happy poly moments, but some things converged last week to make me feel like I am back on track:

1. Since I’ve known for a while that some (not all) of the troubles between us could be solved with, like, a half-hour conversation and I was having a hankering to watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 and be excellently fucked, I asked the Mayor of Kittentown for some snuggles. He was happy to be asked but says his new relationship doesn’t allow for extracurricular snuggles. It’s hard to let him go for real, but I’m glad to know that there’s at least one guy that I still trust enough to ask for what I want. And! I get a gold star for asking. I hope that MKT and I can keep a friendship going, even if being on his couch isn’t appropriate anymore. And! I’m really happy that his relationship is getting closer, even if it means no snuggles for me.
2. This one won’t seem happy at first, but bear with me: I’m still really sad that my therapist is on maternity leave, and the interim lady didn’t work out—I felt frustrated, confused, and panicky to the point where the interim lady asked her supervisor to intercede. The supervisor lady gave me two very nice gifts: First, she helped me understand that my bond with my regular therapist is really deep and it’s okay to not want to do therapy with anyone else. Supervisor lady asked me to imagine that my real therapist was sitting next to me and to find that sensation in my body—it was in my heart, and that made me cry my eyes out some more.

I think that experience was really important because what I’m really learning here is how to not be freaked out by attachment. Often when I try to fight attachment, it comes out as anger, resentment, fear, a real feeling of being trapped. Once I realized it was okay to have a bond, the pressure was released and I could happily take the summer off from therapy.

The other cool thing that that the supervisor lady told me was to get a pretty notebook and write letters to my therapist while she’s gone. While it makes me feel like a genuine crazy person, it really works—in fact, I decided to use it to write to other people I can’t currently talk to—it’s a relief to be able to parse out all of the emotions instead of being overwhelmed by them. Most of the letters, I won’t share or send, but it makes me feel better and like it is safer to be connected to people. It helps me to experience some of the attachments I have been fighting in a way that doesn’t force me to confront or disrupt anything—it’s another way to help myself learn love.

3. Over the weekend, I went to a couple of talks that were really helpful and inspiring. The first one was a talk on seeing kink through the lens of feminism. I looked forward to it so much that it kind of made my week. I don’t think that there’s anything inherently anti-feminist about kink, but I have wished for a while to have more friends who see BDSM from a feminist perspective. On the way there, I got caught in a romantic-comedy-level downpour—I was soaked down to my underwear and laughing my head off—I felt like I was on a very good date with myself. (Thank goodness Sweetie and I had a date for afterwards so she could bring me a change of clothes.)

While I sat there shivering, I was so happy to hear people’s questions and stories, and it was wonderful to feel safe to tell my story without fear of being seen as a bad girl. (At least, not a bad girl in a bad way!) I realized that the key to making more safety for myself in the local BDSM community is to spend more time forming friendships, so I won’t end up in the power-imbalance that automatically comes with being an outsider. So I offered to be folks’ munch-going pal, and I am so proud that the workshop’s facilitator took me up on it—she’s accomplished so many of the things that I dream about and she’s a fellow badass feminist bottom, so I think she’ll be a good influence. Wonder what her cute nickname will be!

The other talk that I liked so much was a talk on beginning polyamory. I love the way that my body relaxes itself when I am in poly company—my shoulders get warm and my heart floods with well-being—I really should do this more often.

My favorite thing that I heard in that talk was from a gentleman friend of mine, one of the most romantic souls I know. He said that one of the ways he knew that he was poly is that he just doesn’t get over people—they just stay in his heart. He knew he had room for more that one person in his heart because people just stay in there. I love that idea. It’s certainly a more positive way to look at my own never-getting–over-people, even if I do get frustrated from time to time with who takes up my heart real estate.

4. And speaking of heart real estate, in my letters-I-probably-won’t-send notebook, I sat down and wrote a letter to Fireguy. It made me realize something that will probably seem obvious to everyone else, (it sure wasn’t a surprise to Sweetie)—I loved Fireguy. I even loved Varga Girl in an aspiring-to-be-a-metamour kind of way. Though there isn’t much I can do with that love, acknowledging it is a relief and a release.

There was a moment during our public fire scene where he looked down at my face with such a look of approval that I felt like a perfect little angel. I had never felt that from a male authority figure before, and it struck me so deep. That’s why it’s so hard to stay away from him, even though we weren’t a good match. I forgive myself for the compromises I made, for all the hurt we all went through, I forgive myself for the fact that that feeling was so powerful that I couldn’t resist it. I hope to feel it again some day, in a healthier way.

We’re having a Charlie Kaufman movie marathon over here lately, and this scene from Adaptation has really been sticking with me. “I can love whoever I want.”

Cuddle Party Part Four: Space, Reiki, and Wrestling

I think I did a really good job during free cuddling, even as I was reticent to join the general smush. After a too-hurty try at a massage by a very friendly guy, I was sitting in my own little pleasant bubble of space when the husband of the couple I already knew (I’ll call them SheandHim and HimandHer because they are quite inseparable) offered me a foot rub and that sounded joust right. He compared himself to the previous massage-giver: “He’s all force and I’m all energy.”

I stretched my feet out in front of me and he took off my fuzzy slippers (which I’d bought just for the occasion) and started to rub my feet gently. Curious what he meant to be doing with the energy (I keep fighting the urge to be ironic and put energy in quotation marks) I asked “Are you taking something out or putting something in?”

And he said “Which does it feel like?”

“Both?”

What it felt like was good, like a regular foot rub except that it gave my toes a floating sensation, kind of like during yoga when you are supposed to breathe through the soles of your feet—an improbable sensation, grounding and pleasant. He was explaining to me about the energy, buy I couldn’t really keep track of what I was supposed to be learning, there was too much going on around me.

Toward the end of the foot rub, The Lady of the House came over and asked if she could lie near me, and I said of course. I forget if she asked me or if I asked her if I could pet her hair, but it was a yes. I petted her head and face until it started to feel too personal, then did a good job of stopping. She thanked me and maybe we hugged some—I know that at some point we hugged and at some point HimandHer asked if he could put his head in my lap and I said no.

Whenever I said no to something, I remembered to feel proud of doing a good job with my no, but I also rooted for the person to find exactly what he or she wanted. Also, writing about all these nos  and cautious touches makes me really ready for a whole bunch of rough-and-tumble yesses—better get some public (and private) kink soon!

One of my goals for this party had been to get closer to men, but that didn’t turn out to be what happened. I think maybe the right guy just wasn’t there, as is so often the case—I’m making friends with the fact that I’m really picky about guys, even as I hope to someday become less so. (Also I have this dream about being 40% more casual than I actually am, but that’s a whole different blog post.)

I spent a lot of time watching, maybe too much—I wish that I had asked what the watching protocol is. In BDSM, the closer you are, the less you should watch, for fear of getting in somebody’s space too much, but here, everyone was close. I worry that I may have made people feel awkward by watching, but they were all just having such a pleasant time.

Host One had told us during the welcome circle that she is a Reiki practitioner, and I was curious about that, so I asked her if she could “put some Reiki on me” (I don’t know the terminology) when she got to a good stopping point, and she said sure.

I found a spot to lie down (I chose face up) and handed her my glasses to put in a safe place. (Ah, the handing over of glasses, dear submissive trope, how I miss you!) She moved her hands up and down my body, without touching. (I joked to Sweetie yesterday that some of this energy work stuff feels like a kids’ game of “I’m not touching you!”) but the settled one hand on my head and one on my heart, very similar to the way Fireguy had held me down during fireplay. Here I’m quite sure that it wasn’t meant as a dominant gesture (or maybe Fireguy meant it as a Reiki gesture), but I liked that it reminded me of that feeling, but with mystic-hot hands instead of flame-hot ones, and also with pajamas on. Her hands were indeed radiating into me, and I thought jeez, how does she give out so much of her…life force? and still have enough for herself. It was so nice of her, so generous, and I felt a little guilty because I didn’t know how to reciprocate. (That’s a little echo of the times I’ve been pleasantly dominated and then left with a worry of not having behaved well enough, not having shown enough gratitude. Gratitude is such a tricky thing, probably another whole-other-blog-post.)

A commotion started at the other end of the room, and I had to keep lifting my pleasantly-held-down head to see what was going on. What I saw was a tangled loop of muscle and giggle.

“What?! There’s wrestling going on and I’m not in it?”

I thanked my Reiki friend and sat up to watch and see if I could join the wrestling. Host Two, The Lady of the House, and Massage Therapist Guy were all gleefully in mid-grapple, and when they simmered down, I asked Host Two if she would wrestle with me. She said yes and asked if she could run energy at the same time, and I said “I don’t know what that means, but sure!”

It was pretty much the most fun ever. I think people really liked watching it, too. Pushing against her arms, locking against her shoulders, hearing a couple of people hollering “Go (me)!” until I pressed hard enough to pin her down, then getting up and wrestling her down again, laughing hysterically the whole time. We ended the wrestle out of breath and giggling, I was stunned with joy, it was fantastic. Rough cuddling indeed. There really needs to be more wrestling in my life, hope Sweetie’s ready for it!

Next: The Puppy Pile 

Please, Sir, Part Four: I Burn Pretty

As I was turning over (I think, sometimes I’m not sure of the sequence of things) he took me by the shoulders and laid me down decisively. It was nice, like falling.  I like the part of fire where I’m on my back because I can see what’s going on and watch the pretty flames. He said it hurts more if you watch, but it really doesn’t hurt much. He said the flames burn prettier on some bodies than on others. How it looks is: he has two wands, one with the fire and one soaked in alcohol. He runs the alcohol over me in whatever design he wants and lights it—the flame only burns for a second but it is bright blue and so pretty. There’s something about it that makes me feel like a princess. This time, he took off his shirt and held my hand to his heart.

All the while I was giggling, smiling, having a great time. “What is this sub-space you speak of?” he laughed.

“What, you can’t giggle in sub-space?”

“Huh. I’m learning things from you already. Okay, you can giggle in sub-space.”

I’m really disturbed by the idea that a submissive would always have to have a serious/ecstatic/pained expression. What does that say about my role in the proceedings? Shouldn’t I be here to have fun? Anyway, anyone looking for all-serious-expression-all-the-time would be severely disappointed with me.

He put my foot on his shoulder and made the flames climb up my leg, trying for different swirls and patterns. (“See, this is why I shaved.” he said.) After that, he made plumes. That’s when he mists the alcohol and lights it, about eight inches above my skin. I guess people don’t usually look during this part, but I did. He was delighted by the giggly/scared expressions I made, by the way my body contorted when I startles and half-shielded my eyes.

He warmed his hand and placed it at the bottom of my neck-the fire-kiss. He lit and snuffed the flame again and laid it on the mound of my vagina, and that felt very soothing. “You can do that for at least twelve more hours.” I said.

“But then I wouldn’t have time for anything else…”

He growled and attacked my boobs, sucking hard on the right nipple and playing with the left one. That was the first time I really groaned for him, I couldn’t help it, yelping cries, I thought about Wonder Woman overhearing them and wondered how soundproof this basement is—my guess is, a lot to very.

I sat up on the table and kissed him—he was hard underneath his jeans and I wanted him between my legs. We kissed gently and sweetly and then it was time to get spanked some more. He told me to lean over the table on my elbows and I gladly did. He said:

“Here’s what you have to do for me. If you’re going to come, you have to say, please, Sir, may I come. The sentence has to have “please” and “Sir” and “come” in it.”

“Okay.” I said. This information seemed a bit premature, but I filed it away just in case.

He got a nice spanking rhythm going. To avoid the possibility of me getting distracted by the music, he’d chosen unobtrusive massage music, and he spanked to the rhythm of that. It was pretty funny. I laughed for most of the time but got serious-happy whenever he told me to spread my legs a little wider. My feet kept sliding along the carpeted floor; it was hard to stay upright. That was making me a little shaky. I guess It was a good workout.

He asked if he could leave a handprint on each cheek and I said of course he could. He told me to inhale deeply and when I exhaled, there came the pain. The really hurty parts aren’t my favorite, but I don’t mind them.

There was part where he was sort of ramming his clothed self into the back of me. It was a little embarrassing, kind of reminded me of the bathroom scene in secretary—okay, humiliating.

Once I was standing again, the hardest part of the scene happened. He said, “I have job for you.”

“Okay, what can I do?”

Get that bowl of condoms over there and set it on the table. Oh-kaaaay…

“Now I want you to put the condoms on these.” and presented me with a Ziploc freezer baggie full of sex toys.

I wanted to cry. I think maybe I should have stopped the scene right there. Because, dude! You think I’m too dirty to put my sex toys in!? I looked it up and it’s a pretty common safer-sex practice, but it still seemed creepy as fuck. Maybe the fact that a Ziploc of machinery was coming at me an hour into a first date exacerbated the situation.

The other reason I wanted to cry is that I felt small and overwhelmed and inexperienced—I hadn’t put a condom on ANYTHING since the early Nineties. MKT and I always use them, but he always puts them on. I’ll have to remember to have him show me how next time, assuming my sex drive comes back at some point.

I didn’t say any of that; I just said I wasn’t ready. “Not even for this little one?” he asked, brandishing a little silver bullet like the one Sweetie and I have at home.

I don’t know if he could tell how scared I was or how hurt I was determined to be brave and have fun, and there was SO MUCH MORE fun to be had.

Next: “Wash Your Hands,” Pretty Blue Ropes.

Please, Sir, Part Three: My First Collar and Some Fire

There were two reasons I didn’t do more talking with Fireguy prior to the scene. I wanted to be accommodating and I was afraid that if I asked for too much I would end up being rejected, (lame, I know, and totally my fault.) but more importantly, I was all heated up and curious, just rarin’ to go. All in all, I’m glad that things happened the way they did—I’m learning that the limits you run into, the boundaries you cross, are never the ones you expect, and here come some doozies.

He had me stand under the heating vent while he set up the fire supplies. I was wearing a nice soft fluffy sweater and jeans. My hair was all shiny and curled at the bottom like an old-fashioned movie star.

“Are you comfortable getting undressed?”

It’s easy to get naked in front of Fireguy, even though it was still a little chilly in the basement. He reminded me to take off my socks—I tend to leave them on. I left on my undies for the time being.

“Would you like to wear my collar tonight? You’d belong to me while you have it on.”

“Yes.” He tried to say something else but I interrupted with “Yesyesyes.”

“Well, you can think about it if you want to…”

“Some of these decisions have been premade!”

I’ve never been collared by anybody, even for an evening. I’d fantasized a lot about Bill putting a collar on me, but I think he might have considered that part of “serious relationship” territory. Also he was a little closety, so I intuitively steered away from actual BDSM trappings-never even so much as wore a cuff when he was over. Mostly that worked for me, but I sure did want to know how it felt to have that ritual of belonging to a man, even for a few hours.

Fireguy lead me to the center of the room and told me to get into submissive position number one, which I’d learned the last time I was there. I sat on my feet, legs spread apart, palms up, back straight.

“Good.” he said. “Good.”

I held up my hair so that he could put the collar around my neck. It was about an inch and a half wide, black leather with a ring in the front. He said that if this ended up happening more often, maybe I could have my own collar, in my favorite color. (Which is blue.)

I knelt there as he petted my hair, kissed the top of my head, and generally made approving yummy noises. He bit along my neck and shoulders and reached down to my boobs, playing happily and roughly, emitting adorable growls all the while.

Then he told me to get up and lie down on the table, face down. He asked if I’d take my underwear off for fire safety, but I wasn’t ready yet. He said if I wanted to wear underwear during fire, I should wear cotton ones, they’re less flammable. I ended up taking them off anyway for fire spanks. I’d pretty much do anything for fire spanks. Once my undies were off, he considered my ass and growled again over its spankability. I giggled and said I’m glad I have proof!

It’s hard to explain fire spanks, since I don’t exactly know what goes on back there. Some of it is just—he covers his hand with alcohol, lights it, then snuffs the flame, so that his spanky hands are all nice and warm. But there was also something more burny happening, too, a fire wand held close, maybe. I let it hurt a little more each time before I flinched.

Since we hadn’t negotiated at all, he told me “This time  is pretty much gonna be, if you say stop, I stop.”

Which led to a lot of me saying “I said ow, I didn’t say stop!” which I also say a lot to Sweetie and MKT.

My favorite part of the fire portion of the scene didn’t have anything to do with the flames. I was still lying on my stomach with my face down. He was rubbing his warm hands on my back and then he just took his hand and held it on the back of my head, gently but firmly, and held my head down. He just stood there like that, breathing deeply. It was magic, one of the best feelings in the world.

After that is when I started to settle in and sort lose the sequence of events: sub-space.

Next: I Burn Pretty.

Please, Sir, Part Two: Barriers and Cupcakes

I started this story on an optimistic note, but I’m not feeling that way today. Between Monday night and now, the tone of things changed in a few texts and a weepy call. I’m doubting whether it’s really advisable for me to try submitting anymore. I don’t know whether I can find a dom who is interested/patient enough to deal with the messy emotions that come from being a new submissive. I’m not sure I’m interested in those emotions either.

So, another hot/sad story. Someday soon I’d like to have some that are just hot. But I’m sure it’ll still be a complicated hot.

Telling this story may hurt some feelings, and I’m sad about that. I mean this series to be an exploration of my own limits and not a judgement on anyone else.

If you’ve been reading for a while, you’ll recall that Ialmost broke things off (whatever things there were going to be) with Fireguy a few weeks ago. There were several reasons for that.

First, I got scared, plain and simple.

Second, he kept coming across as very guarded, almost as though I were a threat to him and/or his relationships. He was going through some renegotiating with Varga Girl and really feeling brokenhearted about it, but it still hurt my feelings. For example, there was a picture from our photo session of him pulling my hair and me having a nice swoony expression. He asked me not to post it so as not to “minimize” hair-pulling with his sub. But even if I had been a client and not a friend, my experience did not deserve to be minimized either.

He kept saying that he just wanted something casual, even though I hadn’t asked for anything more. I felt like I was having to fight the tide of emotions that I had about him and about my brand new experiences. When he said he might not always have time to talk to me, I flashed back to Bill and got really worried. I really really didn’t want to be a doll again.

The third reason I started to back off is that, for all the cute-wonderful-inspiring that Fireguy and Firewife (she’s asked to be renamed Wonder Woman, how could I say no?) are, they have an official “Relationship Agreement” between them that’s very intimidating. I wouldn’t begrudge anybody ANY tool that helps them stay in a happy poly marriage for THIRTY YEARS, but I can’t imagine I’m the first outsider to find this daunting.

I haven’t seen the Relationship Agreement, but the part he told me about, and that gave me pause, was the Levels. There are Play Levels One Through Four. I thought at first they’d be close to the traditional bases, but they’re not. Level One is “Free Safe Play.” Level Two “is for special people” and requires that any potential partners and THEIR partners get tested for STI’s. He said he was “not interested in Levels Three and Four” but BDSM being what it is, I’m sure those levels might be way too advanced for me. He told me that, since I was treated earlier this year for an STI, I would have to stay (it felt like “would only qualify for”) Level One.

Reading that, I have to say I felt like a piece of meat. We hadn’t even had a date, and already I couldn’t hope to be one of the “special” people. I didn’t like the idea of having to earn his/their affection, although, is that part of what being a submissive is? I don’t even know. I confessed that I had feelings for him and I couldn’t risk being stuck in crushtown again.

Nonetheless, I think people have the right to protect their bodies and relationships any way they see fit, and I wanted to learn more. Plus, I just really like them, and the idea of not pursuing things made me sad.

When I called a few days later and he was glad to hear from me, I apologized for things getting messed up over email and jumped at his offer to start things over. I was really excited to make plans with them. Their house really does feel like such a safe place to me, and I loved the idea of going back there. When Wonder Woman called to set up the date, she asked me what I wanted to do, I said I wanted to decorate cupcakes. But I think maybe I should’ve said I wanted to sit in a diner and talk. Because I knew what visiting him at the house really meant.

I asked her what her favorite cupcake is and she said dark chocolate. It was my first time making chocolate cupcakes from scratch, I couldn’t get over how beautiful the batter was. I tried for fire colored icing but it turned out more peach colored, as you can see.

We had such a nice time decorating cupcakes and I was so happy to get a chance to talk to them a little bit. He made a remark about his fingers being too fat to work with the sprinkles, and ohboy, don’t think I hadn’t noticed. Unfortunately, Fireguy and Varga Girl had just broken up (romantically—they plan to keep up the D/S part of their relationship) a couple of hours before and he was having some other troubles, too. A phone call took him away for a bit, but I was happy to have a nice chance to talk with Wonder Woman for a while.

When it was time to go down to the basement where the fire stuff was set up, I wasn’t sure if Wonder Woman was coming—Fireguy had talked about the three of us playing together, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to invite her down or what. She just hugged me and sent me on my way though, saying to text her if we needed her.

Am I ever going to write a story that doesn’t make me think I should have talked more first? Is there ever enough talking?

Next: My First Collaring

Nearly-Naked and Fire-Kissed, Part Three

I’ve never been very good at casual kissing, but I want to learn to enjoy sensations for their own sake, and plus I just wanted to kiss him, so when Fireguy offered me an upside-down kiss, I said sure. And of course was a good kiss, of course it was. I’m not supposed to get attached to him, so I was holding back, but it was definitely good enough to make me wonder what it would be like if I didn’t hold back.

I’d like to stop for a second and acknowledge that even though this is a friend who belongs to two other ladies, and there were people are lined up to be next, this scene still seems wildly romantic to me. Even the idea that H and E (They need nicknames. How about Varga Girl and Firewife?) were letting me and the rest of the world borrow him for the evening makes my heart go all mushy because it makes me feel close to them. To The Ladies and to the world. So we’ve established that I am a sentimental poly mushball.

And not a moment too soon because then he asked “Can I give you a fire kiss?”

Um, yeah.

He told me to close my eyes, then lit the fire on his hand. He snuffed the blue flames and then put his hand at the bottom of my neck, just above my heart. I gasped as he kissed me. It was a swoon, there’s no other way to describe it. A falling sensation.

He asked how I’d gotten so good at kissing and I laughed and said, “Well, I’ve been married to a lady for a long time.”

The woman who was next in line makes me rethink my idea of myself as needy. At one point, I opened my eyes and saw her just staring down at me, the flames reflected in her wide eyes. It was creepy, and I don’t know why I didn’t ask her to back off. I guess I just felt like I was safe. I smiled at her and turned my head like I was going back to sleep.

He had me turn back over for “fire spanks.” (Is that not the happiest phrase ever?) I would gladly have submitted to that for seven or eight more hours, but there were other people waiting and he was also supposed to be taking pictures. I sat up all blissed out and glowy and he said, “Now normally, if there were more time, I would wrap you up in a blanket and do aftercare” and I just sort of leaned into him and he said “Aaaand I’m going to do it anyway. Wrapped up and in his arms, I felt special and famous and chosen. Being seen getting treated in this way filled something up in me, gave me a bright feeling of being recognized.

He asked for a few more kisses and I joked that now he would have to kiss all of the girls in line. He said that no, he wouldn’t.

I was planning to stay and do more things with him if he got time, but when I called home Sweetie was already on her way to pick me up. (I really have to stop being a baby about driving myself to things.) It was kind of a good thing I had to go, because I was starting to feel like I didn’t have enough energy left to navigate the place. After I said goodbye to Fireguy, the self-consciousness I’d bypassed earlier kicked in, I felt awkward and threatened, and I was ready to just be home. When I went to the dressing room to change into my comforting flannel PJs, one of the couples I’d watched earlier was in there on the couch snuggled up. They seemed so beautiful and sad and sweet, I was worried that I would disturb them.

Walking out of the place, you know what? Young fetishy people really look at you funny if you are in flannel pajamas with cupcakes on them. Who knew?

I was at a loss for words (Rare for me, obviously) in the car on the way home. I kept trying to explain how I felt but could only come up with phrases. When we got home, Sweetie and I curled up and watched sitcoms. After a good night’s sleep, the fears wore off and the sex-goddess feeling came back, turning Sunday into a blankety daydream.

Typing this story just makes me want more. More him, of course, I hope it turns out that that’s possible. But also just MORE. I’m not sure what my next adventure is, but I am SO ready for it.

Photoplay Part Four: Ropes! Fire! Sweetie!

After the nice post-spanking cuddle, it was time for ropes. Q asked if I would mind being topless. I said I wouldn’t mind and he asked if he could undress me. I stuck my hands up so that he could take off my pajama top, and he took off my bra, too. I felt exposed but nice. He showed me a pretty, glossy, thick red rope, kind of like the kind you would see holding back a curtain, but long. He told me to put my hands up and close my eyes. As he wove the rope around me, I realized that my armpits kinda smelled and I apologized.

When I opened my eyes and looked down, I had kind of a nice halter thing. The rope made a pretty square between my boobs, and they we held up in a very pretty way. The haler felt snug around me. At some point he asked, “Can I enjoy you?” and I said yes. It felt different than it would in a romantic context, a little uncomfortable, but it’s the moment I’ve referred back to the most. He asked “You like it light?” then tested my nipple, seeing how hard I liked to be pinched. “About like this?” So nice of him to ask.

“Boy, somebody’s gonna have fun with you,” he said while he was getting me into the next set of ropes—blue-green and more delicate. He arranged them in an intricate design over my whole body. He told me that it’s for decoration, not for restraint, but I just loved the tightness of them, like a hug that was attached to me.

Sweetie was waiting outside the door on the basement stairs. She’d barged in during the ropes, and I’d had the bizarre reaction to try and hide from her. From my own wife. I guess I had the idea that she’d be bothered to see me nakedish with somebody else, but she seemed unphased.

Anyway, she was there to help with the fire, so I went and called her in. I was so excited to show her the secret passage, and she found the right book a lot faster than I had.

The way a fire portrait works is, the camera is on a long exposure and Q moves a pretty flame around you so that it makes a glowy shape in the picture. The fire felt nice and warm and not scary. I was worried about being topless in front of both Q and Sweetie and kept asking if she was okay. As Q posed and adjusted me, Sweetie started chiming in, too. “Sit up straight,” she said, and I could not have been happier, being adjusted by two people, all that attention right on me. I could get used to it.

Q wanted Sweetie and me to pose together for a Valentine portrait—looking couple-y with a fire heart in the foreground. Now, Sweetie has many excellent qualities, but she is definitely not a take-your-shirt-off-in-front-of-a-dude-for-a-fire-portrait kind of woman. I watched him talk her into it and felt a little protective towards her, but she is a grown-ass woman after all. and I was very glad to have her topless with me.

I LOVED posing with her. She has fantastic boobs and I couldn’t resist getting grabby, just once. Our fire portrait looks so romantic, and I hope to see it blown up in a gallery some day. I’m glad he talked her into it. The experience of being in that room with both of them made me realize that maybe I’ve put too many limits on her, and on myself. It opened up an even-more-sociable aspect of myself that I didn’t expect to find.

Once the photo shoot was over, my boobs were tired. I put my bra back on and got into different, more flannel-y pajamas for the ride home. I thanked Q so much for all the fun, and he thanked us, too. I was exactly right that this was the best way to heal and move forward, and I went home with a glow. I can’t wait to see how the pictures turn out.

A Shy Unicorn, But! Big Milestone! Go Me!

So last night I did talk to a few new people, so that's good. And I spent time watching some dreamy couples play. But I couldn't think of how to approach them, even just to make friends. I wouldn't have talked to them while they were in a scene, but even before and after...I don't know. I just feel standoffish about strangers. Oh, well, it just takes time, I guess.

The big news is! Yay! Q was there doing fire massage, so I got to feel what that feels like. Yum! Maybe more importantly, though, to have a fire massage I had to be naked except for undies. In a room full of strangers. It felt amaaaaazing. I felt like the most gorgeous pinup in the world, and I didn't care who saw me. Between Q's fire and the nakedness, today I'm still glowing and blissful. I'm sure there are a million paragraphs to be written about this, but I'll let it settle in for a while.

Last night when I got home, Sweetie asked me if this project ends up with me as a burlesque dancer-Pretty Ribbons would be a good name for that, don't you think?