Zhai'helleva

Kat and I said goodbye tonight. 

Actually, it was close to zhai'helleva than goodbye. 'Goodbye,' is a shorter version of "God be with ye," and in our culture it indicates an ending. A leaving. 

Zhai'helleva, however, is a phrase from Mercedes Lackey (shut up, I'm a fantasy buff. Deal) which means, "Wind to thy wings." It acknowledges the parting, but focuses not on the leave-taking, but on the hope of good fortune for your companion. 

It means that the parting is irrelevant, only the people and the emotions matter. 

Kat was my first submissive, and I cannot tell you how much that he taught me. He gave me a confidence in my own dominance that I could not have started this blog you're reading, or many of my other myriad projects, without. 

In many ways, he taught me my own dominance. It was his deferential smile and hopeful offer of a footrub which propelled me into the world of public kink and true polyamory. He taught me what I can handle as a dominant (not just a Top), and what I can't. He taught me so much, and I will always be grateful to him.

But I do not have room in my life right now for that responsiblity, and he deserves better than that. Also, he is developing a budding relationship with a lovely woman, and his loyalty and interest is rightly situated there. 

So tonight we sat down, and we agreed that it was time to part ways, and that we had been huge, wonderful influences in one another's lives. 

Zhai'helleva, my katzelein.

Random vignettes from the weekend- leatherworking by Q and the Mistresses' Tea

Sunday, the very last day of DomCon, was the Mistress's Tea. I had considered dressing up a bit, but, well, you know me.
I decided at the last minute that I needed to get my leather pants and boots worked on so I wore them with a tank top and asked Lucivar and Terry to show me where the lovely Q was doing leather.
Then we wandered for a while.
And I found a black leather corset for $75.
Yes. It was supposed to feature red on black flames, but they mistakenly sent her black on black. I loved it just as it is, and I've been wanting a black leather corset to go with my black leather pants and skirt.
Yes, it's cliche. I like it anyway. Fuck off.
So I bought it, and then I found Q. And decided that "Hey, if I'm getting the rest of it worked on, I should get this, too!
So in the middle of the hall, with Lucivar's truly reluctant assistance (that boy's life just sucks. almost as much as mine), I stripped (did I mentioned I don't wear a bra with those tanks?) and wriggled into the corset. It was a pretty good show, apparently, as it got several stares, and Lucivar had fun lacing me in while I sat in a chair and Q worked on my boots. Really, let me tell you how awful my life is.
Getting my boots polished by a gorgeous boi while being laced into my new, massively discounted corset by one of my favorite bio-boys.
Then, I got to stand up while she did my pants. Really. My life sucks. Beautiful boi running her fingers all over my pants, being careful to rub saddle soap into every-single-inch.
Then she handed me my knife so as not to get saddle soap on it.
While I was using Lucivar for balance.
Well, one would be foolish to pass up such opportunities.
So I held it to his throat and watched him make pretty noises for me, throat bobbing and eyes going all wide and grass-green. I ran the tip along his jawline and he whimpered a little. Pressed the serrated edge into his adam's apple and watched him struggle not to swallow. Smiled darkly when he leaned into the blade just a little, showing him those dark places in me that sing to his.

And then it was time for the Tea, so we agreed that I'd come back to be finished afterwards.

Terry and I took places in the middle of the room, and I looked around for my darling Katzelein, who had attended the morning tea service class and was therefore acting as a server in the Tea. He was, as usual, making himself busy ensuring that everything was as perfect as he knew how to make it. I was, and am, so proud of him, I know how naturally shy he is so this was a huge step for him and he did a wonderful job.
Our table was served by an older gentleman, whose shaking hands clinked the pot against our cups, but his nervousness was actually quite adorable. I 'played mum', passing around the small plates of cakes to everyone, and we all chatted.
It was open only to dominant women, and it was really a pleasure to talk freely with other women about the unique challenges and pleasures we experience. I can't remember most peoples' names, and I apologize for that, but if any of the ladies of our table read this, simply know that I cherish that time we spent together.
Meanwhile, my Kat was making his way through the room with a sharpie and a large paddle, requesting that we all sign it as a souvenier, for Mistress Musette (who taught the tea service class and put on the tea), I believe. He was respectful but not retiring, and poured as gracefully as ever- I am so very proud of him.

I truly owe a great thanks to Mistress Musette and her girl blue, who taught a wonderful class on tea service, and then did an amazing job of running the Tea. She is a true Belle, and impressed me very deeply. I look forward to having tea with her at some point in the near future.

Eventually, the tea ended, and I returned to the hands of the lovely Q, who slathered my pants once more with leather conditioner (oh gee, darn!) and then started on my corset. I believe I will have some pictures later of her working on me, which with her permission I'll try and post here :) It's quite a sight- my tiny, redhaired self standing on a chair while the lovely black boi runs her hands all over my corset :-D

I got one last kiss from her before she left, then went in to watch Jack's interrogation.

Paradox

Inspired by my relationship with Kat, and a recent conversation with Unspeakable Axe, I've been thinking a lot about submissive males and the challenges they face.
It's hard to find a dominant woman to date, especially if you want a surface-normal life.
And there are a myriad of reasons for that, or at least that I can see. I'm no sociologist (oh wait, yes I am...), but there's always more than one reason.

I feel bad for Axe, and more specifically, for my Kat. I am not what he is looking for long-term, and I know that. He is monogamous, and I am not and never can be. When I try to be, it, um... turns out badly. I am rather significantly younger than he, and have very different priorities right now: I am focused on exploring and growing and learning, while he is ready to settle down. He wants children, and I have a good 7-10 years before I'm ready for that. He is purely submissive, and I am a switch with a strong need to submit as well as to dominate.
So I will never be the woman he spends his life with- I'm simply not wired that way.
But that doesn't make me love him any less, nor want him to be happy any less.
Although let's just be clear here: when he finds a committed relationship, I'm going to bawl my eyes out. I'll be thrilled for him, but I'll also really, really miss my kitten.

Meanwhile, though, he struggles, like so many submissive males.

Firstly, because there just aren't all that many amDommes out there. At least, that's the popular belief. I don't know that I really agree with that. I think there are a lot of dominant women out there, actually, but they don't know it for two primary reasons.
Reason 1: Women are taught not to be "bossy" or "bitchy" or "aggressive". We're taught that more aggressively than any male can understand. We're taught to be quiet, and self-sacrificing, and gentle. We're taught that to take control over our sexuality makes us sluts.
Basically, we're taught that we're all supposed to be submissives, and breaking that mold to attempt otherwise is fucking hard. The first time I raised my hand to a boy, despite his utter willingness, I had a strong urge to burst into tears and apologize.
Reason 2: The community portrays FemDommes as kinda scary, and kinda gross, and frankly nothing I'd want to be associated with. Seriously. I think Bitchy Jones said it best: porn is based on male fantasies (and mostly the extreme ones), proDommes base on porn (since they're marketing to male fantasies, that's their job), and amDommes base on proDommes because there are a dearth of amDomme mentors in the community.

Between the two of those- cultural training not to be dominant, and very few good role models to show us otherwise, it's no wonder so few ostensibly vanilla women never realize their own
dominant leanings.

And, of course, there's the popular culture's portrayal of submissive men. Our culture values alpha males. Dominant men. Look on the cover of any romance novel, are any of those men the ones kneeling? Nope. And that's what teaches most women the "rules" or romance. Shitty, huh? Well, it's still the case.
Submission isn't viewed by most women in the dominant culture as the white knight offering his fealty to the woman he loves. It's viewed as the SNL skit of the fat 50 year old in a badly-fitting maid's outfit giggling in falsetto, "Please spank me, Mistress!"
Gross, huh? Yeah, that's what she's thinking.
That's not insurmountable, btw, but it really is worth noting.

There are other reasons submissive men struggle, though. It was recently mentioned to me that, "I haven't even met a domme who I was attracted to who wasn't already dating a wealthy guy. The attractive ones don't stay single long."
That statement makes me sad. First off, because it depends on one's perception of attraction. I know some women who look like models. I also know how much time, money, and effort they spend on looking like that. Yes, most of them have sugar daddies, because it's almost the only way to afford a look like that.
I know some women who don't look like models. Personally, I think they're beautiful, but my standards of attractiveness are wider than most mens'. Some of them have a few more pounds than maybe is ideal, some of them have smaller breasts than one might wish, or simply don't have those perfectly symetrical features that mathematicians have shown are found the most beautiful. But they're amazing fucking women, they're beautiful inside and out, and they're excellent Dommes.
Secondly, that level of bitterness is a red flag to me in someone I'm considering dating. Maybe it's understandable- the person who said it to me had been struggling to find a domme for 8 years- but it's still an unattractive red flag.

And there are a few other, small issues mostly, that I have with a number of male subs out there who are searching. These don't apply to my Kat (JSYK), and they may not apply to you. They're just things I've noticed and take issue with.
- This hearkens back to the last paragraph but why do so many men who don't bother with even basic personal hygiene, much less going to some effort to be attractive themselves, and yet want to date only supermodels. I have an ex who is a perfect example of this. Seldom shaved, didn't ever work out, or watch what he ate, never went to any kind of effort with his own appearance... but only was interested in really, really beautiful women.

- Where are these men looking for partners? Seriously. Internet dating will only take you so far. Fucking GO SOMEWHERE. This applies to vanilla men, too! But specifically for male subs, why aren't they going to local BDSM events? Why aren't they networking? Why aren't they going out to paces and chatting up women?

- Seriously... if you want to impress a woman, a domme in particular, learn some useful skills. Not only are they useful, but it tells us that you're a self-starter, that you're capable of doing things without someone looking over your shoulder and making you. Suggestions for skills: massage (your local community college probably has classes every semester or so, and there are books on it), simple cooking (you don't need to be a chef), how to give a good pedicure (bonus points if you can actually paint toenails, because I personally am hopeless), reflexology for hand/footrubs (seriously, look it up on the internet), how to brew good coffee and tea (most women drink one or the other, and they can be a very sensual experience).

- Do NOT bring up kink the first date with an ostensibly vanilla woman. Seriously. I don't care about full disclosure, wait til they swallow the bait to set the hook. And yes, I used that analogy on purpose. We just covered how icky FemDomme

I still feel bad for male subs seeking partners. I really do. I see some amazing men who struggle to find someone who can love and accept them. I see beautiful men who deserve someone who will give them with the same love and devotion that they offer. I wish I could go into the culture, and fix it.
But I can't. So I do the best I can, by loving the men I have, and being a friend where I can to the ones I don't.

Random vignettes from the weekend pt 2

"Strip," I told him.

He'd fucked up. He'd managed to irritate me, and that's hard. He ignored what I told him, and it was going to cause me consequences.
He does that so very rarely that my response is always divided- part of me wants to forgive him because it's so rare and just not get angry with him.
The other part wants to beat the everloving shit out of him to ensure it stays so very rare.
Balance. I try to stay in the middle.

I looked him over- he really is beautiful, my Kat. His workouts have a very nice effect, and his body is a pleasure to look at. I love the broad shoulders, the thick muscles of his chest with his hair trimmed to just enough to tug on, the planes of his belly and strength of his legs. And he has an adorable ass. But tonight I was tired, and still a little pissed, and I wanted this over with so I could go to bed.
"Over my lap."
He obeyed, and just for a moment I enjoyed the sensation of his weight across my legs, balanced across my thighs, stroking his thighs and ass idly. "How many do you think you deserve for ignoring what I told you over and over?" My voice was soft, but I could hear the thread of anger still in it, and from the way he tensed I know he did, too.
I like asking him these questions. He knows that the rubber loop paddle is my punishment toy- he hates it, it's too much for him to process with anything like pleasure. So I'm curious what he'll answer.

"20, Ma'am."

My eyebrows rise, and I know he can feel my surprise. His voice is absolutely miserable, and as I process this- his misery and guilt and the desire to atone for his mistake. His willingness to take this pain he hates for me, I feel myself melt. The last of my anger slips away.
I love this man.

"You're feeling brave tonight." The words are a mild test. I know how he meant it, and it's got nothing to do with the usual idea of bravery. It has everything to do with courage, though. Real courage.

"I deserve it, Ma'am." His voice is still so rough, still so full of misery.
I almost want to suspend the punishment, wrap him in my arms. He is such a good boy for me.

I tell him this. Tell him that I'm proud of him. I don't even remember what I said, I spoke with my hands and my body and the tenderness in my voice.

And then I picked up the paddle. "15," I told him. "5 less, for being so good for me."
And then I brought it down.
He sucked in his breath and his body tensed. He hates it, and I'm glad. I want this never to happen again, but I know it will because he's human and I'm human and we fuck up.
I bring it down again, fast, multiple blows and he's counting for me, "2, 3, 4, 5! Ma'am"
I stop every few blows and rub the marks I've made. He's gritting his teeth and shaking his head and I bring it down again and he's counting for me and I love him so much right this moment.
To suffer like this for me, there is a divinity to it.
I stop at 14 and rub his back. He's shaking a little, and I warn him. "This last one is going to hurt like a sonuvabitch," and just as he nods I bring it down again, all the force in my arm this time.
He makes a sound like a stifled howl and I lean into him, press his cheek to mine and whisper to him how good he is, how proud of him I am, how much I love him. I tell him it's over, that he's not to think of it again and he is making small sounds and pressing into my hand and my cheek and when I kiss him his eyes are shiny.

I play with him for a bit after that, other random toys in my bag and while I love it, while it's fun as always, I'm still shaking inside from how beautiful he is as he hurts for me.
Goddess, I love this man.

Defining 'sex'

So lately I’ve been thinking a lot about sex, and definitions of sex. Jack and I have been having to define it very carefully, as we slowly explore polyamory together. Since I have another partner (Kat), and he doesn’t, this means that our definitions are a little one-sided right now. Personally, I am open poly by nature: once we find him a girl he’s welcome to fuck her seven ways to Sunday. However, when we got together 2 years ago, his response to the idea of poly was, “Why would anyone want to do that?” so I’m not pushing his limits too much.

Pushing limits is fun. Breaking them is not.

So right now, we’re working on defining sex. Relatively obviously, cock + pussy = sex. I personally also define anal and oral sex as- imagine it- sex! But here’s where we get tricky: my seeing him masturbate, sex? Him seeing me (a very special treat, which he has not earned yet regardless of how we define it)? What about my just playing with his cock? Torturing it? His nudity? My nudity?

Where is the line of “sex” drawn? I know where it’s drawn for me. When something other than my own hand/tool in my hand penetrates me, or my hand is on his cock with intention of his cumming, then it’s sex for me. But I know that those are well into the territory that Jack sees as sex, so where does he draw the line?

It’s amazing how hard it is to get even someone as comfortable with their sexuality as Jack is to really talk/think about that. He keeps shying away from it, asking me to talk to him before any time I might go farther. Um, to quote my father (as strange as that is to do in my kink blog!): “Sounds good on paper”. In reality, it’s kind of difficult to interrupt a scene to call him (and he never answers the phone on the first try!) and ask, “So, honey, I’ve got Kat tied up and I’m cropping his front, mind if I wrap my hand around his cock to better brace it while I crop it?”

Riiiiiggghhht. That’s gonna happen.

So we’ve pretty much settled into this: I come up with scenarios I think might end up happening, then ask him what he thinks about them. If they’re too far outside his limits, we discuss ways they could be tweaked to make him more comfortable. It’s imperfect, but it works.

“So honey, I was thinking about putting mini clothespins all over Kat’s ballsac…”

Conversation

Kat: Ma'am, I've done a bad thing.
Me: Oh really?
Kat: I know I should have asked permission first...
Me:
Kat: But I was over at XXXXX's house, and she asked if I wanted to touch her organ and I just couldn't wait.
Me: (response I made): Ahhh.
(response I should have made): And did it make music for you?

I just found the picture in my phone that I took of him last weekend. The one where he's lying face down, his hands cuffed at the small of his back and his ass red from my reaching for whatever toy came to hand and using it until I got bored, then reaching for another.

Mother of God, that was so hot, and seeing that picture just brought it all back again.

*happy shiver*




Oh yeah, and my birthday dinner is tonight. We forgot to arrange for a cake. Which is to say, *I* forgot, since I have to do all of these things myself :)

Orgasm control

We talked last night about orgasms, and orgasm control. I love orgasm control. I was never really into it, but I've definitely become a fan. Now, note the word, "control", not the word, "denial". I don't like orgasm denial much. I like it too much when he cums.

I like making him wait a day or two, yes. I like watching the tension in him rise. I like the way he wonders if this time I'll make him wait longer. I like the slight nervousness. I like the way that everything is just a little sexier than it should be, just a little more arousing. The way the TV conspires with me and makes sure there's a show involving scantily-clad women, usually athletic ones. The way he gets that slight whine in his voice when I tell him, "No", and he says, "Yes, Ma'am".

I love that.

But do you know what else I love? I love it when he cums. I love the way his breathing speeds up and gets ragged. The tension in his beautiful body. The little sounds that he makes, the way that his eyes go wide and blind just as he orgasms. The way his hands clench, and then his whole body relaxes against me. Jesus I love that.

My sex drive is broken right now, but just thinking about that is enough to make me hot.

I love orgasm control.

So fucking lucky

I just have to say it again: I'm so incredibly lucky.

I attended Dragon*Con with Kat last weekend. Now, for those who don't know me, let me be frank: I suck at taking care of myself. Seriously.
I don't remember to eat for days at a time, I never drink enough water, I am more concerned about taking care of everyone else than getting any sleep, and GODS FORBID I remember to clean out my new belly piercing.
And for those who know anything about Dragon*Con, well, you know that that's a place where it's especially easy to forget to do those things. I was pretty much assuming I'd put myself in the hospital by the end of it.
What I hadn't reckoned on was Kat.
I recently referred to submissive men as superheroes. He is my inspiration for that. He ensured that I ate several times a day, reminded me to clean out my piercing, gently shepherded me to bed when I was reeling from exhaustion, and constantly supplied me with water.
You have no idea how hard that was! I'll be honest, I'm a pain in the ass. When I go longer than a few hours without eating and my blood sugar is low, I actively resist eating (I so fail at self-preservation). When I'm exhausted, I get punchy and bitchy and just plain nasty to anyone who suggests I go to bed. I'm a massive pain in the ass, and I don't mean in fun and kinky ways.

And yet somehow, without ever losing his submission, Kat chivvied me to bed when I needed it, convinced me to eat when necessary, even got me to drink water.

Baby, I don't know how you did it, but I'm so incredibly grateful that you did, and reminded all over again how lucky I am to have you in my life.