Strength in Submission, Freedom in Bondage

Takin' it Back

2010-08-23T16:11:00.001-07:00

Music. Besides smell, music is one of the biggest triggers for memories of your past. As of recently, I considered this a curse. It seemed every time I got in the car to drive to work certain songs that to express everything I was feeling at the time kept playing (of course, logically, I know that this is why Linkin Park was so popular during my 'teen angst' years, it expressed what *everything* is feeling at the time). It's been no secret that I haven't been in a good place lately, not for lack of trying. However, through a series of events surrounding songs that brought on negative emotions, I came to a conclusion or two:

It all started the first time Mdin617 came to visit me.

I plugged his iPhone into my radio to charge--it plays whatever playlist you were on/listening to last.

All I needed to hear was the first couple of notes and I *knew*. Frozen, tense, I asked, "What song is this?"

"Great Gig in the Sky-Pink Floyd" he answered, looking at me. I closed my eyes and swallowed, the song being confirmed seconds before it started really going into instrumental intro.

As Clare Torry started belting out her wordless lyrics in ways that have always made me feel near orgasmic, I wrestled with myself while lying next to Md.

"I may have to change this," I announced simply, every nerve in my body going haywire as the music continued. He looked at me, concerned, but not saying anything. I met his eyes finally and explained, "It's a *thing*".

One word was all I needed to say to describe that this was something special between me and an ex--namely one that I was not over at the time--and still had an affect on me.

I will spare the who, what, why's for all other parties involved, but rest assured knowing it was kinda a REALLY BIG *thing*.

At that point, a few months ago, I was tired. I was tired of still feeling pain, I was tired of the depression, and I was ready to move on. There's only so much healing you can force, but you can help a lot. I'd been proactive about it after the initial shock, I tried to put myself out there as an educator, loaded myself up with modelling gigs, purged things through writing, focused on framing things in a positive light, stood on my own two feet, and at that point, started gradually dating again. I really did not *want* to stew in those negative feelings that I still haven't seemed to shake completely. I'd been *doing* something about it since day one.

So why, now, was I going to let my emotions become victim to a song? I had very little control over how that *thing* played out. I couldn't control that the song came on *now*. The one thing that I could have some sort of control over (just a tiny bit)? Well, my response of course.

I leaned into Md. "Let's make it not-so-much a *thing*. Let's make it a *new* "thing"," I suggested. Like that, my blood pressure slowed, my near-hyperventilation halted and I was (almost) able to lay there and enjoy the song with him. I'd taken control. I'd taken it back.

I applied this new-found epiphany elsewhere. For a while, I couldn't hear a minute of Jakob Dylan's voice, namely from the album "Bringing Down the Horse". Why? Well this may give you a clue: http://fetteredgirls.com/BLOG/?p=8 (though, I'm not sure how long that link may be up since it's A.) a blog from YEARS ago B.) not my website C.) Perspectives on certain things were different at the time). Abridged version: at 13, I was raped by my best friend's dad while he was driving me home--it was that album that'd been playing over and over at the time.

I remember the last time I'd heard that particular song. I was with my S.O. du jour at Sporting Goods store trying out jump ropes to maintain my physical fitness and to aid in his. It was some time after that blog was written and posted.

It started playing over the loudspeaker and without explanation, I'd run out of the store, lighting up a cigarette in the safe silence outside only to have to scramble to explain why to him after. He didn't get it at the time.

Which is why, about a month ago, when that freaking song played on the radio, I went to change it--and the instance in the Sporting Goods store was part of the memories that had flooded me. In fact, while part of me relived the horrors of that night those were a bit removed, as if I weren't reliving them, but watching a movie. What really stuck out in my mind was the feeling that had me jettisoning out of the store that day-- and how that feeling of fear and might *just* be something I did have control over. By catering to it and changing the channel or running away every time I heard that music, I was continuing to be a victim. I was reinforcing that idea, in fact. Yeah, I was a victim of something horrible, but I was choosing to *continue* to be a victim to this day, 11 years later.

I wrote that blog 3 years ago-- that last line: "And here’s me, going on with my life, but I won’t be the victim anymore..." a half-truth. Until now.

I stopped myself from changing it, I focused on my workday ahead, my plans for that night and (nearly) jammed to that song.

The 3rd bout of my epiphany happened only a few weeks ago at a Goo-Goo Dolls concert. In the 6th grade, my two favorite bands were Goo-Goo Dolls and Aerosmith. I had a pretty healthy obsession with both, listening to the albums often. My fandom died out over the years, particularly after Dizzy Up the Girl. Most know the song "Iris"- that is one of their most popular. It's a gorgeous song with beautiful lyrics and notes. One I've loved since I lived out West.

A S.O. dedicated that song to me during the course of our relationship. It was my ring-back, so I heard it often. Soon, anytime I heard it, my thoughts drifted to him when we were apart, my arms drifted to him when we were together. It was *our* song.

That relationship ended as amicably as-- well-- let's not go there. I'm not angry, just sad that I couldn't salvage some sort of friendship. So whenever I heard that song, I got somber in remembrance of the good times: not because I regretted leaving, but because, while the romantic relationship wasn't meant to be, I felt a loss at the lack of any sort of relationship and even more hurt at this person's negative feelings toward me.

There was only so many ways I could try to salvage some sort of friendship. It took me a long time, but I realized that I couldn't force it and exposing myself to the ire was actually doing me damage. I eventually decided, no more. But there were still a few things that made me sad--namely, the song.

When the tickets to the concert were purchased for me, I knew that the Goo Goo Dolls were eventually going to play that infamous song. That's what made this epiphany very clear: I could A.) When that song played (most likely near the end) have it affect my entire time as it brought on the waves of "what if" and my pensive thoughts on how I could have achieved a better outcome or B.) I say "It is what it is, it's not my damn fault that things are the way they are now, and this has been my favorite song years before I met so-and-so".

I decided not to feel down/sad/bad/etc. DECIDED. And it worked.

The moral of the story is, bad shit happens. I couldn't control half of the things that I listed above. But I *could* control my continued reaction to them. Yeah, the songs will still inspire a knee-jerk sad, anxious, even angry response, hopefully one that will fade and mayyyybe even disappear over tim. But the more power I give them, the more power the hurt and those who caused it deliberately (example #2) have over me. Things can hurt you, but you can be proactive in whether or not you're going to keep letting them hurt you.

People say that you can choose to be happy. While I now ascribe to being an instrumental part in the formation of my perspective in life and realize I'd given that job to others for way too long, it will take a while until I can find my truly happy perspective again. That's how pain works, unfortunately. But I'm not going to just sit here and let it happen, I'm going to go and find my happy.

And I'm *certainly* not going to sit here and be a prisoner of my past.

So those songs? Yeah, I'm takin' them back.

Followup on Daddy Post

2010-07-18T06:23:00.000-07:00

I received a message in response to my last "Daddy" post that made the familiar ball in my throat and the tears in my eyes come back. It read as follows

Hey,

I just read your Daddy journal entry. I was sorry to read that you were so low. I felt like I could hear the tears streaming and the sniffles through your words.

You have a strength in you that I believe you have not yet been able to reach. Mere fragments sustain you at times. But I also know that deeper within lies the Little Ten. And obviously, that is the child that longs for the comfort and safety that Daddy always provides.

It is hard to manage a Little as strong - or perhaps weak - as yours, given the specific issues which surround her. And the strength that protects her is merely a strength suit of sorts. And when that suit is peeled back, the tearful child - afraid and exhausted from acting like a big girl and feigning strength that she knows she does not have - pours out and collapses every so often. It is hard for little girls to be strong.

And when a Daddy leaves his little girl, that creates an instant security vacuum which causes the little girl to have to hasten and put her suit back on.

He finished these words with an extension of support if I ever needed it.

Kind words, right? I felt a bit of gratitude... and a whole lot of shock and pain.

He was SPOT ON about the strong suit. It's the only way I'd been able to survive without being a pathetic puddle on the floor the last few months. But now he pointed it out, he unwittingly exposed it as somewhat of a farce. A defense mechanism, for sure, but what really lurks underneath?

Deep inside I'll always have that vulnerable little girl. Right now I hate it. She's like a tiny baby bird--so fragile and easily broken--she holds me back and gets me hurt to a degree that I never fathomed. I want to tell her to GROW THE FUCK UP and stop being such a fucking baby.

In a way, that's exactly what she is though. And is that my strong suit part of me talking to her so crudely so that I can stuff her back down again and not get hurt? Am I doomed to have this around with me for the rest of my life? Do I go seek therapy to deal with her once and for all and move on, because this isn't healthy?

Or do I embrace her as someone that is always going to be a part of me and find that ideal relationship where my Significant Other can too?

I said in my last post that I can live without Daddy. I really can. But maybe I was wrong about the fact that I'm always going to want Daddy.

Maybe it's she, the little girl inside me, that can't live without Daddy/Mommy/other safe Big of sorts. And until that person or people come out of the woodwork, maybe I have to keep her behind this suit.

However, she obviously doesn't exist too far beneath the surface if one can point her out so easily.

So what the hell to do with that? (rhetorical, as I'm babbling out of my ass right now).

What (not who) Daddy is...

2010-07-07T19:23:00.000-07:00

*I want my Daddy..."

I burst into tears on the way home tonight as this thought permeated my brain and rested there. It was a pervasive chant that the vulnerable little girl inside of me kept uttering.

I tried to figure out why it suddenly popped into my brain and why I was so effected by it.

In spite of my previous writings, this wasn't about an ex-relationship. This wasn't about my real father dying. This wasn't about any of the men in my life, past, present, or perhaps.

For once, "Daddy" didn't have a face.

An epiphany struck me.

"Daddy" was no longer a person in my head. None of the "Daddies" of my past came to mind when I suddenly longed for "Daddy". "Daddy" was and always has been a concept for me.

Since my real Daddy was taken away at such a young age, I think I superimposed all of the things I was missing as I grew up, but longed for, onto my Daddy--or at least associated it with a father-figure role. All of the things I've yearned for I suddenly felt like I could find in one place--in Daddy.

Daddy= security, safety, acceptance, unconditional love. Basically Daddy= a sense of fulfillment.

This explains why I suddenly dissolve into tears and feel an incredible sense of destabilization when one of the things named above drop out of my life (mostly in the form of a sudden detachment with people I used to feel attached to). With one central symbol (my Daddy) of all of the things named above I don't crumble nearly as easily when I feel those things are shaky with someone else like a close friend or even a lover who is not Daddy-- much like a slave may touch his/her collar and feel security and fulfillment in the D/s relationship he/she has with his/her Dominant. It explains why, when I don't have that relationship, I nearly fall to pieces at the first sign of abandonment by anyone I've let in. And finally, it explains why, when I have that central Daddy person that is supposed to embody things like unconditional love and security and they leave for whatever reason-- it nearly kills me emotionally.

While I don't think wanting all of those things (security, safety, acceptance, unconditional love, fulfillment) is necessarily unhealthy-- my reactions to people (potential future Daddy's or not) because of the lack thereof are not healthy in any way, shape, or form. And to call someone "Daddy" without them knowing those expectations is asking them to fall short.

I honestly don't know if "Daddy" will ever become a "who" again. I do know that I can live without-- and will try my damnedest to find a healthy way to do so. That is what I will be working on for the time being. However...

I'm always going to want my Daddy.

Domlessness

2010-07-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

"You know why you don't have a Dom, Ten? You have to take them seriously. They need to be taken seriously. You're too flippant."

Someone said this to me after observing my behavior over a series of hours as I volunteered at TESFest this weekend.

I -had- been flouncing about being my usual cheeky self to those who know me that way. That's social Ten, however. That's not relationship Ten. Unless you're a play partner and the dynamic we have is me constantly challenging you--because it's something we mutually enjoy.

I was not thrilled with his judgment, delivery, or the tone in his voice. I don't even recall the statement I made to spurn the comment and at that moment, I could care less.

"Well when I find someone I can fucking take seriously, I'll take them seriously", was my retort before I walked away.

Right now in my day to day relationships in the scene are merely 'PLAY'. Hence my PLAYfulness. Whether my 'bratting' crosses the line into annoyance is a matter of opinion, but I'd like to think it's not for the majority of those I encounter and play with. That's why they continue playing with me.

I don't lose that playfulness in D/s. That does not mean I don't take MY Dom seriously.

However, an encounter on a another social media website got me pondering.

I'd only pointed out to this person who said that a "true submissive" does this and that that being submissive means something different to everyone. This person was relatively new to the scene and used such bonus words as "topping from the bottom" to describe my relatively harmless statement. Said person even went so far as to ask Dominants that I don't even know to "keep me in line".

This experience brought two different thoughts to mind. First, this poor naive girl seems to think that just because I identify as submissive, that I should behave a certain way (sort of the same way the person who called me "flippant" did)and and that any Dom can and will put me in line.

But also, it was relayed to me that her most recent Dom left her, which, seeing as her defensiveness made her lash out at me in several very not cool ways, not limited to making fun of my appearance and suggesting violence happen to me--her behavior might have had something to do with that. Also, in her words, it was 'because he couldn't tame her'.

I personally find the whole idea of "breaking" or "taming" a sub unnecessary and part of unfair expectations. Logically.

However I've been pondering whether my own behavior is the reason I'm still without anything but a "maybe" D/s relationship at the moment. Am I subconsciously "testing" potential Dominants by positing a bit of a challenge for my submission? Am I placing unfair expectations on suitor Dominants? And if so... why? Is it because the last D/s relationship I "took seriously" slipped off into the night and I'm too afraid of that happening again? Am I just not ready for a new Daddy?

Or is it because I really just haven't found someone I can actually take seriously?

In the D/s sense of course.

Life is too short to be serious all of the time.

Chasing the Dragon

2010-05-06T04:27:00.000-07:00

No, Dear friends, it's not about drugs

Pure, exhilirating, scintillating emotion.
Never went away, was just forced out
Like a campfire not quite finished
With it's purpose, not quite through
Spending it's kinetic energy
Yet they pour dust on it
Stifle it
It's served their purpose after all

Chasing that fire night and day, day and night
Trying to find that beautiful inferno that was
Tiny conflagrations here and there
Don't serve their purpose quite like they used to
Keep searching for that feu de joie
The pure
The absolute
But you can never re-ignite the blaze
And bask in the incandescence...
Quite like the first time.

Hurts So Good

2010-04-30T03:56:00.000-07:00

I have long been fighting off the label of "masochist".

My profile used to state that I was more into the the "D" aspect of BDSM, dominance and discipline, not the "M" aspect. I don't physically enjoy pain. However, I get lumped into this category of "masochist" all of the time.

It's been suggested lately that I'm more of an emotional masochist. Not that I like to feel emotional pain, but I like the feeling of being able to take that pain. I love the adrenaline. I love to feel "tough". In fact, so much so, that the first time I ever cried from corporal means was because I yellowed on the man giving me my first "real" beating and he said "awww, I thought you were tougher than that". Cue tears-- because I am damnit!

I can 'take' a lot apparently. You know how I know? When I shot with PD (of Insex famedom) and Sister Dee on hardtied.com and topgrl.com they were constantly commending me for how resilient I was that I could take the strenuous positions I was put into and the beatings that were doled out. PD has worked with, yes, models who aren't really into this sort of thing... but also some of the most notable masochistic women of all time. So to hear that kind of praise from him and know he wasn't blowing smoke up my ass cemented the idea in my head that I've got one tough bottom.

I first started actually embracing my masochism as more than what I can 'take' at the Connecticut GRUE. There, DaSade and others used me as the demo bottom for how to properly paddle someone. I swear this was one of the longest classes at the GRUE as several people lined up to 'properly demonstrate proper technique' in paddling my ass for two hours straight. OR people just couldn't stop beating my ass. Either way I liked the way it felt. I actually enjoyed the sensation of the pain at the time. This still happens, but very seldom.

That's when I started to grudgingly accept that there's a little masochist inside, but it didn't come out often. I still rejected the notion that I was a MASOCHIST through and through.

The next bit of food for thought came at Bound in Boston. Many of you remember the scene I had with Lqqkout where he played the trucker and I played the innocent little commuter. He put so much effort into planning and executing this scene, including making a special paddle with a metal mudflap lady fastened to it. (See Fet pics for illustrations).

Near the end of the scene he was using a black bandana that was part of his costume to wipe the blood off my ass after every few smacks of this paddle. That was one of the many tokens (mostly the clothes that were ripped off me) that he told me to keep from the scene. He did it on purpose. So that I could 'flag' black. Meaning-- Heavy S&M bottom.

Really? I'm in that category now? Even after my many experiences I still had a hard time believing that this gentleman (I say the term loosely) who'd only met me the day prior to our scene had just assumed that I should be flagging that way. Fingering the bloody bandana, I guess he'd figured right. But when did the girl who began her journey by simply fantasizing about over-the-knee spankings and a taken-in-hand relationship become some kind of hardcore bottom?

And did that make me a masochist?

Most recently I had the opportunity to play/hang with Cyd Black at and after Brimstone. He, Wickedblueglow, and I were hanging on our porch smoking a cig when he called me a "smart-assed masochist". I continued to deny that I was a masochist, in spite of the fact that my ass was described as "looking like a crime scene" after I'd played with him and I was still asking for it by being a brat.

He just looked at me like I was stupid when I affirmed that I was NOT a masochist.

I explained that I did not (often) enjoy the sensation of pain.

He didn't even bite just said:
"You've heard of me."
"Yes."
"And how I play."
"Yes."
"And agreed to play with me, knowing this."
"Yes."

It dawned on me, then, that a masochist isn't someone who just enjoys the sensation of pain. That it is someone who intentionally puts themselves in the position being in pain because they enjoy some aspect of the situation. Whether it be that their inner attention whore needs feeding, their need to prove something by being 'tough', to explore self-destructive behavior in a controlled and consensual way, or needing the catharsis of being "broken", a masochist finds new and innovative way to put themselves in situations of enduring physical pain and NOT simply because they enjoy the sensation of it.

Yes, I am, still somewhat begrudgingly, an admitted masochist.

Slave at Heart

2010-04-28T09:57:00.000-07:00

"You're not submissive, you know," he says from the passenger seat of my car. I rolled my eyes. I couldn't blame him. He'd just spent two seperate play sessions, one Saturday night, one Sunday afternoon whaling on me and I only gave in--just barely-- after at least an hour. Most of the scenes I spent being my regular smart ass self and tested him to see who would break first, me or him. I still think that particular outcome was a bit of a toss-up, though the scene that occured Sunday had me feeling a tad bit more of a docile and with a certain... affinity... toward him.

"But we'll get to that later..." he continued and then must've seen something in the look on my face as I met his eyes. "You aren't submissive," he repeated as I bit my lip and looked away in frustration. "You're a slave," he finished matter-of-factly as my neck snapped back for me to gape at him with my mouth open.

I've heard many people in my past criticize my submissive tendencies (or lack there-of). Something about my being the the strong-willed and opinionated brat who heavily enjoys resistance play in scenes and finds all that kneeling and protocol stuff tiresome might've given people the idea that I'd make a really bad submissive, much less a slave.

Part of me started to believe it. Especially since I ascribed to the Daddy/Little Girl dynamic mentality. A little girl doesn't always say "yes, Daddy, whatever you say" and get on her knees every time he walks in the room. But a Daddy, much like a Master, keeps his little girl in line when she needs it and is ultimately the boss, even if he has to show her so. So is Daddy/LG ultimately a M/s relationship?

Boy, this guy stirred up a tempest in my mind with just a simple comment. You see, in the past I used to say I had a "slave-heart". That eventually, I'd find the right person to give myself to. Then I ascribed to what everyone was telling me-- that I was too headstrong, too controlling, and, well, real slaves don't make a *trew Masteh* work for it, they'd simply recognize his Mastery.

Which is why I sort of gave up on the whole slave thing... until this man I'd met the day before had said this statement so matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

Thinking about my D/s relationships in the past, I reflected on whether I was always so ornery and the answer is no. Not at all. I used to actually be a pretty good girl.

Lately, I've had a penchant for take-down scenes, escaping from rope, being beat for hours on end before I break (if I ever did), and if I put all in the perspective of what my new friend stated, it's not because I'm not submissive-- I'm trying to find someone strong enough to be my Master. Once I do, while still opinionated and headstrong, I feel like I'd make a pretty good slave.

The last person who broke me had my complete devotion. He had the strength and patience and compassion (and sometimes brute force) to take down all of my walls one by one. Walls I'd spent a long time building. And while I was sometimes a 'brat', while I messed up sometimes and needed punished... I knew without a doubt who I belonged to and showed endless and unconditional love and devotion.

So yeah, when he left me without even the sanctity of my walls-- my need to be taken, controlled, 'broken', increased. Because the next one won't get that love, adoration and devotion so easily. Not by a long-shot.

But it doesn't mean I don't have a deep desire to give it. And like AA has the attitude that all you need to have is the "desire" to quit, I kind of feel the same way about M/s. My slave-heart beats deep down in my chest. It's there behind these reinforced walls brought on by distrust, pain and pure stubbornness. And it's waiting for someone with even more strength of character, body, mind, patience, with even more tenacity and not just good intentions to help me take them down.

Taking a Chance

2010-04-20T17:37:00.000-07:00

Still taking strides. Been focusing all my energy into positive endeavors. Including *maybe* presenting at future events. Below are some ROUGH outlines of what I want to teach as of now. Feedback IS appreciated, positive or constructive criticism:

BDSM as Therapy: Finding Catharsis in A Scene

Have you ever experienced or heard someone talk about a “Cathartic” scene? What is 'catharsis' in the scope of a scene? Come to this class to explore what catharsis is, why it's a good thing, and how to find this wonderful state in a scene. Discussion includes why and how catharsis is different for tops and bottoms and what could possibly be blocking you from experiencing it.

Understanding Brat/Bitch Play

A Brat/Bitch play dynamic is one of the most misunderstood of D/s dynamics. Join us as we analyze the exchange more as a system of communication and dispel the myth that it's simply “topping from the bottom”. We explore why anyone who respects a D/s dynamic would ever want to engage in this sort of behavior and what both sides get out of it. Whether as part of a temporary roleplay scenario or a 24/7 D/s relationship, learn the joys of embracing your inner brat/bitch ... or reining one in!

Rough and Intense Public Scenes

This class has two different subjects that will be investigated and then integrated to create a very interesting composite scene. First, we will explore what is inherent in a rough scene. We will go over all of the steps on how to create a rough and intense scene including negotiation, preparation, the follow thru and aftercare with a brief touch on safety. Then we will discuss public scening, the different purposes of scening in public and what the difference is between private vs. public scening. Once we integrate the two, we will discuss the characteristics of an intense public scene and things to be mindful of, including environment and those around you. Subjects that will be touched upon will be how to create your ideal rough public scene and controlling the levels of intimacy vs. putting on a production and finding your “zone” vs. including the audience in said scene.

Why Tuesdays are Worse than Mondays in my World: Curse of the Evil Lady.

2009-10-06T16:41:00.000-07:00

Ok. So.. if you're here to subject yourself to an entertaining piece of literature in the form of an e-mail of someone getting paid THREE times as me (at least) and "trains" me how to do my job here it goes:

Good morning
On ____________ Sheet, ____ Inventory, and __________Report must match before you start keying for the next week. This mean you need to set down with the _____ people before you start your current week. Your _____Inventory must match your ____ Inventory Sheet and ___ Report, I will like to see this report before any site start keying for the next week. So you can call or email me when you are finishing with your reports. Please put paperwork in daily, as I go thru the report I am seeing mistake, so please organize your day, so you can have time to input CFA. Thank for what all you'll do. Your work is very appreciated.

I received the above e-mail this morning. Before this woman commenced to make my day a living hell. I'm a bit blessed, for now she's not there every day. She only comes in on Tuesdays anymore (and the last hour before I leave on Monday, which is also it's own form of hell).

I had the same reaction: Wowwwwwwww.

Followed by: How the HELL is this the woman I answer to?!?!?!

So anyways... I had it out with this woman today. It's frustrating enough that I'm teaching her how to use her own program and that I'm formulating reports she's taking credit for but then today, today she threw down.

Her: "Why you doing it like this?"
Me: "Because that's how I was told to do it."
Her, incredulously: "Who told you to do it that way????"
Me: "You."

I asked many times when she told me, ARE YOU SURE you want it this way, because it doesn't make sense for this and that reason... There were witnesses. Some even stepped forward today. I'm sorry, she was wrong and I put that in her face when she tried to dump it in my lap. So we'll see what the outcome of that will be in the future.

Honestly, I SO would rather deal with the mob.

Sorry this doesn't have fetish, porn, sex, or anything of that nature in it. I'm boring.

Morals? Where did these come from???

2009-07-07T13:24:00.000-07:00

I hate when my friends refer to my new burgeoning status as a "porn star". I'm not a star, not yet. I'm no celebrity. I've only been recognized twice from my pornographic undertakings. On my twitter and fetlife account it says that I'm a "burgeoning fetish model and performer". "Burgeoning" means that I'm "flowering", "budding", "blossoming"--- in other terms, I'm struggling.

With no 'real' job and not knowing where and when my next gig will happen, money is an issue. I mean, I have enough to pay my rent every month and take care of *most* of the other expenses, but that's all been dumb luck for the most part. I land a random gig about once a month, and have been blessed to work with Kink.com at least once a month as well. However, not *knowing* if I'll have a paying gig in the future is disconcerting to say the least.

So when an opportunity to make the equivalent of 3.5 months' rent and/or pay half of my debt down comes along, it looks pretty enticing. I was ignorant about the site's content, partly because of my lack of computer access and partly by choice-- mostly since everyone I told from seasoned porn stars and directors to the average person who had patronized that site in the past had the same aghast reaction.

I had agreed to do the site right before TESfest (which is what I really wanted to write about today, but my head is still swimming with this moralistic crap), so the entire time at TESfest I tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach. Except when I saw the reactions of my friends and cohorts...

And then when I returned from TESfest and hit the site and watched clip after clip and saw the description 'neath the shoot, I realized that this site entailed performing every kinky activity that I abhor. I would be making great, amazing money--- and I'd hate every minute of it. (It'd be like working at Starbucks... which is why I entered the porn industry in the first place).

And then the words "economic manipulation" from Matt Smith's ridiculously sensational article echoed in my head. As much as I rationalized doing the site by saying things like "I want to at least try everything once", I knew deep down that I would only be doing it because of my financial desperation, thereby giving weight to this douchebag's words. I realized I didn't want to make him right. I didn't want to be exploited.

My work for Kink.com is the direct opposite. I've had a blast with the work I've done with Lochai and Hogtied.com and EverythingButt.com. Yes, I've broken a few cherries with Lochai, tried new things... but I've had fun with all of it and wasn't motivated by the money. The same will be true when I work with Mark Davis at SexandSubmission.com. I love kinky sex and have honestly been getting off to Mark Davis for years now. This will be a blast. I will enjoy every minute and be able to feel good about myself after the day is over. This would not be the case with the other site.

So I backed out. And the people who run the other site have been amazing about it. And I feel better about myself for having the self-esteem and tenacity to take a stand and dealing with these morals; whereever the fuck they came from.

Another Day, Another Shoot at Kink.

2009-06-26T04:43:00.000-07:00

This time they flew me out to do their newest site, Everything Butt, which has just went LIVE—check it out! The night before the shoot wasn’t nearly as eventful as the last time where I explored the Armory with the Naked Kombat boys (detailed here. I went to bed early and everything!

It wasn’t too long before I was in make-up and wardrobe the next day. I was nervous, understandably so. (I’m no porn star yet, and until I break all of my cherries and get a few notches on my belt, I am going to be nervous.) Then, I headed down to set in my prim little skirt and blazer for Lochai to have at me.

The scenes were hot. Unfortunately, the brand new spanking machine he was going to introduce my butt too wasn’t working properly. This was deliberated after about 45 mins of “testing” which had chained over a desk while the machine had a mind of it’s own, each random whack to my ass scaring the crap out of me. So we couldn’t use it.

The scene was SUPER hot though. They all were. He had my wrists chained to my ankles. I never knew how much I liked chains prior to this shoot… their sound and weight make them a delight for this bondage whore, in a very different way than rope.

Do not fear-- just because the spanking machine broke does not mean I didn’t get my licks. Lochai made sure of that. Lots of caning and paddling to fill the sadistic pleasure of the viewers, and fufill my own masochistic desires. One scene had me counting down strokes in between the different sized butt plugs he wielded as he stretched my tiny asshole. And I had bruises to last me days, so that every time I sat down during the rest of my stay in California, I grinned remembering the details of my shoot vividly.

I also got my rope fix, thank goodness, in the aforementioned scene. Though it wasn’t a full suspension, it was still quite taxing as I had to hold the position and the buttplug whilst he continued to paddle my VERY sore behind.

Thanks again to Lochai and the crew at Kink.com for having me out again. Again, you won’t see the last of me. I’m booked for Sex and Submission at the end of July with Mark Davis. Nervous as hell but looking forward to it!

<3 Ten

I was asked an interesting question...

2009-06-11T10:23:00.000-07:00

He wondered if I would still be involved in the lifestyle if I hadn't lost my father at such a young age. (He died a week before my 5th birthday. Drunk driving accident. Don't do it, folks. You become a deadly weapon when you toy with even buzzed driving).

This was my response:

A very good question.

The short answer is yes.

I would probably not have the Daddy/LG attraction as much as I do. I wouldn't have missed out on that relationship, causing a void in my past that I now try to exorcise through ageplay and with my penchant for Daddy Doms, rather than simply sadistic tops or dominants.

I was, however, born a spanko. I got turned on from watching spanking scenes in cartoons as far back as my toddler years. I would read and reread passages from stories where the main character, a child my age, would receive some sort of corporal punishment as a consequence of foolish actions. Of course I didn't know what it was at the time-- it just felt like my tummy feels when I went on a roller coaster. But I liked it.Same thing when someone was whipped. I'm preconditioned to get wet from this stuff.

Gay men and women were considered psychologically unsound 10 years ago for their sexual proclivities. People thought that some event in their past caused them to suddenly shift their sexual preference. Now we know it is mostly biological. Same with me. And hopefully that idea too can begin to be accepted... The idea that I simply can't help myself. I am what I am, I was born that way.

I would've found this lifestyle no matter if my father passed on or not. I would've came in a spanko and still would've evolved as I experienced new things-- such as rope. Ten would still be Ten.

I'd like to hear some comments from the peanut gallery. Is your kink biological or psychological and why?

The History of Ten

2009-06-10T15:23:00.001-07:00

Ten was born prior to my first Playa. Since it’s also a Playa name, that is kind of cheating… you’re supposed to get your Playa name –ON- the Playa. But meh, petty details.

I had a very different life then—collar and ownership and all. I literally belonged to someone else. So yes, it was true, those who said it was a phase.

The man who owned me named me. Slave 10. The number. Not just because that was all I was. But because I was his perfect 10.

We’re different people now. But I’m still Ten. I’m not a number, and not just someone’s Perfect 10. The word is now personified into the person you see before you today. The person who came to Playa del Fuego and left a changed woman. Who took the collar off, but still remains active in the BDSM community. Because that’s who I am now.

You ask about BDSM? As a “community”? Those who aren’t a part of it will never know how strong we really are. A BDSM “community”—it’s a hard concept for those who think it’s all about beating the snot out of people for sexual gratification. But I assure you, I’ve never felt more a part of something, more supported, and more self-aware before I found my kinky chosen family.

I never fit in anywhere. I never belonged. High school, college, even with those of similar age in the workplace… I was always different. I mean, I got along well enough, I had my fun. But never fit in. Never got let in.

Now. I know what community is. My first chosen “home” where I could be me (Ten) was Dressing for Pleasure’s The Crawlspace. Master Ed and Karen took us in and accepted us as family that very first night. I learned so much there, about different fetishes and people and statuses--- and about uniting under one flag.

It was there that I met Firefly who would take me to my first “big event”: Black Phoenix’s Winter Solstice. It was a sleep-away event where I stayed in a hotel and attended classes during the day. I met soooo many people. And it became apparent that people accepted me, as Ten. The person who I had to hide from others. That I wasn’t strange, crazy, or a burden.

Since then, Ten has attended many events. And Ten has spilled over to daily life. I introduce myself as Ten to most anyone new I meet. I am called “Ten” by both of my roommates, the kinkster and the ‘nilla both. Few people know me by my old name anymore. Those I still talk to from my old life (not the ones that simply keep tabs through Myspace and Facebook status updates), know about my lifestyle… and while they may not want to know details, they accept me as Ten as well, even if they call me by my given name.

Which is why I don’t hesitate anymore in declaring that name dead. While I’m not legally changing my name, please note, that if anyone ever asks if “Ten” is my real name, I will now say, "Yes" emphatically.

A Day in the Life: My first Porn Shoot

2009-05-06T13:39:00.001-07:00

What a treat this dirty Jersey girl had last week in shooting with Lochai for Hogtied.com. As a long time fangirl of Kink.com sites (I've been viewing them well before I was old enough!) this was a dream come true!

My first night there was ALMOST enough fun to have me leave happy without even doing my shoot. I hung out with the boys from Naked Kombat and we set about exploring the Armory and scaring the crap out of ourselves. They made me feel welcome and I was happy they were keeping the same hours of me. I couldn't sleep for the life of me!

I slept with the black cat cuz I was scared... Ghosts are a thing for me. I'm terrified of the prospect of seeing one. So at least I had a bed partner. I got a surprise at 3 am when I finally tried to lay down and sleep, and a really hot chick and her rather butch 'friend' went into the room next to me and had reallllly loud sex. While I can appreciate hot lesbian fun and the smacking noises as someone was getting their ass whacked, I needed sleep. Man, y'all are kinky... couldn't you gag her or somethin? I don't even know what time I ended up falling asleep.

I got up at 9, too excited to sleep in. Knowing Lochai's affinity for everything anal, I let it slip that although I do love getting things rammed in my ass, this dirty girl has never cleaned herself out prior to. Jumping on this opportunity, Lochai decided he was gonna tie me up and administer the enema. My first enema was caught on camera for the new Everything Butt site (which I've just been booked for in June, so Kink.com hasn't seen the last of me!)

I'm no stranger to BDSM, but Lochai took a lot of my cherries that day. First my enema, then he used the deliciously tortuous clover clamps on my tiny little nipples which was new for me, and one scene took my anal hook virginity (and boy, did he thoroughly take it!)

I wish I could recount everything, but much of it is a blur, seeing as though there is one scene which just has me continuously orgasming so violently that it looks like I'm having a seizure

And let's not talk about what happened afterwords. Let's just say I had a few more orgasms and got to make a pretty kitty purrrrrrr.

Lordy I hope they bring me on other Kink.com sites. I'm about ready to move to San Francisco. What an experience!

<3 Ten

BOOKED!

2009-03-13T16:52:00.000-07:00

Talent from Hogtied.com just called. I'm booked for April 7th. Holy shit. I'm gonna be a bondage model/ bdsm "performer"!

That's a helluva thing to come home to on the last day of your previous job.

Hell fuckin' yes!

Black Phoenix 3/7/09- Rope Mania!

2009-03-13T12:35:00.000-07:00

Who has two thumbs and got three consecutive scenes with David Lawrence?

That's right! This girl!

This occurred last weekend at Black Phoenix. The evening began with Master_Tombstone and I meeting with David for dinner at Applebee's. It was a really fun and interesting dinner as David introduced the poor bartender to his "line of work"... and also introduced Tombstone and I to his newly released book reBound via his iPhone.

Then we made our way to Black Phoenix. David stopped me and told me I had one job—to carry in the bamboo that would make it’s way into my bondage scene. I did so, obediently and dutifully. After all I *am* known for my obedience.

The beginning of the night had me in the dressing room with Vanessa where we drank champagne and made her VERY, very sparkly. She was prepping for her collaring ceremony between her and Markart. The end result was this beautiful woman virtually became an angel. She is already gorgeous but between the semi-virginal (it was practically see thru) white dress and the glitter overload—Vanessa looked positively radiant.

The ceremony was gorgeous, the candlelight that surrounded them highlighted her seraphic features. She was stripped naked and crawled with the collar in her mouth to Mark. They then exchanged vows. Even I started to feel happy tears coming. You can read more personal accounts of this beautiful ceremony on Vanessa’s blog.

After the champagne was popped open and the Mark and Vanessa were duly toasted it was time to get down to business. David pulled me to the small little bamboo pyramid and he commenced to tie me first face down. I wish I could remember the specifics of his ties, perhaps he can comment later on the logistics, but all I know is that I floated from the second the plain hemp touched my skin. And once I became suspended- I no longer floated but FLEW.

The second suspension was on the same rig. This time he did a semi-inverted backwards… thing… that had me in an almost diagonal position, head towards the ground, and upside down. All four of my limbs were tied to each of the bamboo poles. This gave he and Tombstone direct access to all of my more sensitive areas, which they both thoroughly took advantage of. At the end, as I lay panting on the mat, ropes still attached to random parts of my body, I remember his appreciation of the state I was in. Rope does something very particular to me, and he seemed to be able to bask in my glow, just as Tombstone does. It was an amazing moment.

The third suspension was a completely inverted suspension and was on one of the higher rigs… and was a one-legged no less! As if that wasn’t enough, he had secured the suspended leg to one of the notorious bamboo poles. I, unfortunately, couldn’t hold this position long enough for them to drive me as crazy as they did in the other positions. In fact, at one point while disentangling me, David produced some sort of cutting instrument and commenced slicing the rope, to my astonishment. I’ve been around a lot of rope guys, you see, and their rope is their *baby*. So to see him casually cutting his rope (he cut a BUNCH off) was surprising to say the least. I must’ve said something or made some audible noise, because he looked at me and said “The rope is my medium, but you, you’re my art” or something to that effect. At that point I was simply in a daze, but that sentiment gave me all kinds of warm and fuzzies.

Three restrictive bondage scenes, pain via spanking and single tails, and enough vibrator action to give me significant practice for Hogtied.com, left me bone dry, exhausted, hoarse from screaming—and extremely content. I even experienced some heavy drop the next day. But I’m still carrying around the pieces of rope he cut in my purse. Creepy? Maybe… or maybe I’m too lazy to take them out. But it sure does help with the drop….

Cherries popped by David Lawrence with the assistance of Master Tombstone:

-First ever fully naked public scene

-First ever Hitachi use in public

-First ever one-legged suspension

Needless to say, it was a helluva night!

Mmmm David Lawrence

2009-03-10T12:17:00.000-07:00

Who has two thumbs and got to have 3 consecutive bondage scenes with David Lawrence on Saturday night???

This girl!

Blog to come...

But just wanted to make a quick note about his new book reBound. The entire book is available online so be sure to check it out. And I highly suggest you purchase a copy NOW at the discounted price. It makes a great addition to your coffee table book collection!

A Strong Dose of Perspective

2009-03-06T00:17:00.000-08:00

OK, I can make this vewwwwy easy on you. Skip to the bottom, to the "Quick and Easy Version" if ya just wanna read some fortune cookie type advice.

Otherwise... have fun readin' wha' goes on in mai head!*

I thought the day was going pretty shitty. Things had been kinda-- less colorful-- since Monday and my experience with my ex (aka the General Manager of the NJ branch of ****ers Inc.-- the company I work for) which led to my resignation. I mean, having to go in for these last 2 weeks (ok, actually twelve days as I don't work Sundays)... it's killing me. It's been two days and I'm getting more and more depressed. I love my fucking job. I mean, I maintain the structural and financial center of an entire company, I work with truckers all day, I can wear pajamas to work, and I can fuck around on Fet all day without fear of reproach. This is a gig to kill for. And yet, one person, who happens to be my boss, who I happened to be VERY in love with at one point, sullied it so much that I need to leave because I feel as though I am mentally and physically in danger.

Today sucks worse than Monday... I have to get all of my stuff out of the warehouse, where I'd been storing it since, what, July? I mean, me and P had been going around these last two days faking it until we made it. As if I wasn't leaving. It seems like it's the way everyone feels like dealing with my exodus...

Except Alv**.

"Naw girl, don' tell me dat. Naw, you playin'. Stop playin." I get a huge hug as the man wrestles with emotions ranging from anger, anxiety, and sadness

Ohhhh Alv--. Alv-- the skinny African American from North Carolina who repeats the same thing over and over, who got real excited over the "crystal clear" picture of a T.V. a customer had given him (I mean REAL excited), and who thinks won-ton soup is some kind of strange, foreign delicacy. He's so special. But he's the only one who showed emotion when I said I was leaving. who was the only one out of all the members of ****vers Inc. to willingly enter the Delancey Street Foundation where all of the workers of this company met.

Oh yeah, I probably forgot to mention that, not only do I work with truck drivers all day, but I work with reformed (reformed with the exception of my ex) drug addicts and ex-cons. The stories you hear, the things you learn when you work in an environment like that... well it should probably be considered a part of your benefits package

OK BACK TO THE POINT

So moving out kinda sucke. It was another blow of reality that I really wanted to ignore. Thank goodness I had the help of Christian Davids and ElisabethDavids (who will always be "Ismene" in my heart). They kept me in good spirits and that they drove 2 hours to help me means the world to me. These kind of friends are VERY few and far between.

I took them and Master_Tombstone out to dinner and we were shootin' the shit and then I got kind of bothered. My mom had called me earlier and said something about a house fire but that everyone was ok and she'd call me later. It didn't really sound all that bad, something like a cooking accident that destroyed a cabinet or something. But at dinner with these fond friends, something hit me, in the gut. A feeling. An "ohmigod". I suddenly felt the need to get in touch with someone, anyone who could explain to me what the fuck happened.

I called my mom, my granddmother, my stepfather, my brother, and my sister. None picked up. They complain that I distanced myself from the family-- argh. Finally get my brother. While I thought his voice was the least likely I'd hear, it was a pleasant surprise to talk to him. Still, he's also the most likely to know nothing beyond the pot smoke within his college dorm room.

Then my mom called back. Actually my stepfather did, from her phone. I used to hate the man. 8 years ago, before they got sober, him and my mother, he used to terrorize the household with empty-- and full for the matter-- threats of bodily harm and anguish. But tonight, I was never more relieved to hear his voice.

He started to tell me what had happened but he was slurring a bit- while he'd given up the sauce, I know he was probably on his second dose of Percocet, whether or not his back really hurt. So I was really happy when he put my mom on the phone. I may think she's an ever-loving cunt and a "douche-cannon" (thanks Eric) but she's still my mom and at that point I was ready to start taking laps around the parking lot, I was so nervous.

I started going into shock when she recounted the events of the previous night. As an empath I could feel how it felt when C**, my 7 year old brother came in to tell her the TV stopped working and how terrified she was when she walked in to see gray smoke pouring out of the outlet. I felt what it was like to grab the kid- to scour the immediate surroundings for what you should be taking in case the place goes completely up in flames. I felt what it was like to have your husband of five years (although she has shitty taste, it is love after all, and love-- I understand-- see excerpt above about loving a toxic asshole) battling the blaze for 25 minutes while you impatiently wait for the FRIGGEN firemen to arrive to save the day. I felt the terror as the firemen went to leave and my fairly high husband asks if they checked the basement and as they open up the crawl space (no, NOT DFP's) and watch as smoke BILLOWS* out. The anguish as the hoses the inept firemen used only pushed the fire farther into the house and destroyed more of the precious irreplaceable stuff that one stores in the basement...

And what's the kicker of it all? My mom, the person who, in my angry adolescent angst years used to positively hate, the woman who beat several HEAVY addictions and continues to fight against rampant co-dependency (AKA wiping my douchebag stepfather's ass all the damn timer-- ok well he's not so much of a douchebag now either)... the woman who sold herself and her kids for drugs, who very nearly lost her identity as a human being... she said that we (meaning her, my stepfather and my little half [whole in my heart) brother] were blessed.

No one got hurt, not even Lucky, the dumbass chocolate lab. And within 24 hours, her connections within Alcoholic's Anonymous found them a "home". Not a hotel. 2 bedrooms, every amenity you could imagine. And the insurance company is paying for it. A home. Within 24 hours A place to stay until the damage was repaired. And this ex Meth head, who has no other faux "silver linings" was able to see the positive.

I tell ya. If ya met me a year ago you'd know I fucking HATED her. So to admit that I love this woman and that she taught me a lesson today is rough... I'm so happy for them and the energy they give me over the phone. Even if it took her other 3 grown kids from previous exploits and her making a new life with the ex-psycho, now somewhat reformed husband and the kid they made.

The only thing that is still making me feel these intense JABS-- yeah, they're fucking jabs... and they need to stop-- of depression is that she made me give her a bin I had taken mistakenly when I moved the fuck out. It had all of my dad's stuff in it and my old report cards, art from art shows I did (holy SHIT, I used to do art shows. And poetry contests. And speech and debate and fiction writing... wow I am a person. And not just someone who likes to be tied up... Sorry just need to remind myself sometimes because I really do love to be tied up) in it. She made me give it back. Luckily, I planned to do a scrapbook for my siblings (the one that share the same Daddy) and I had swiped a lot of his pictures, his wallet, his school term papers... and other random things. So something was working with me there.

But still. My past. A lot of it. Is gone. While it's not my dream home, like that house was to my mother... my past, the happy parts I like to hold onto... are gone.

shakes head vigorously

This blog was SUPPOSED to be about perspective. But yeah, if ya haven't figured it out yet, skip to the Quick 'n Easy Version at the bottom:

Quick 'n Easy Version My parent's house burned down. My past is missing. They don't have their dream house anymore but still feel blessed. So... yeah... how the fuck are you blessed?

Ha. Wicked Faire. UPDATED VIDDY LINK

2009-02-23T18:48:00.000-08:00

Hoping this message works. Here's a viddy of me being tied to the cog at Wicked.

Yes my elbows are touching behind my back.

And yes, I got dizzy.

Just a Note

2009-02-23T14:32:00.000-08:00

My ass got mentioned again in Graydancer's newest Ropecast which discusses his adventures at Dark Odyssey. Again, nicest ass he's ever seen, apparently. Pretty amazing compliment given that he's seen(and played with) tons of beautiful women's asses. Plus he reviews some kinky Extreme Restraints toys like vibrating nipple clamps.... which I NEED.

Dark Odyssey: Winter Fire 2009 Sunday

2009-02-20T13:27:00.000-08:00

After another near sleepless night, I rolled out of bed and attempted to make it to the classes I wished to attend. But, oh was the lack of sleep starting to take its. I had to stop at the Starbucks to purchase a large latte with 2 extra shots so that I was able to stay cognizant during Lochai’s class. Having watched Lochai’s work online, and now recently in person the night before—although I was quite hazy—I was very interested in watching him at work and actually being able to process what he was doing. I went to his Bringing it Down class which emphasized that suspension is not the only impressive and useful rigger talent. He demonstrated many new techniques and it was fun to watch my friends and others following along with their rope, mimicking what he did. I often glanced over to Master_Tombstone who joined me for this class when I saw something new and interesting to make sure he was taking it all in. At one point he even alluded to the scene he’d witnessed between me and Kelley Dane. My silly little inner fangirl was thrilled at the fact that he’d even remembered my name!

Then we meandered to Graydancer’s Tie ‘Em Up and Fuck ‘Em class. With a title like that who wouldn’t want to attend. By then the sleep deprivation was again taking it’s toll, so much so that when Graydancer walked in, after knowing me all of 24 hours, made a comment about how tired I looked. But there was no way I was going to let it stop me from watching just how simple it was to utilize rope as a facilitator for…well…fucking. He even did a demonstration as to how much quicker it was to use rope instead of cuffs in restraining the “victim”.

After these classes were over, I ambled about, looking for a couch to pass out on for a bit to recharge for the nightly festivities. Everyone in our room had already checked out (I had to leave Sunday night, having to be at work at 9am Monday morning—and it was a 4 hour drive, blah), so I no longer had a home base. I ended up on a couch in the room that ended up turning into the Kiddie Day Care and Petting Zoo. Which is something I know nothing about… But seriously, the naughty nighttime exploits and such had made it difficult to indulge my inner little. While I was still exhausted and spent much of this activity with my head in MasterTombstone’s lap and watching the juvenile chaos around me, it did me good to play with the bubbles and play-dough that MinaMeow provided and to allow myself to regress a bit.

Soon my blood sugar got the best of me again. MasterTombstone and I were slotted to have our V-day dinner so we made our way to the restaurant and enjoyed some quiet time and yummy food. Then it was time to prepare for the dungeon to re-open. Inspired by my regression earlier, opted to go for the school-girl—something that was quite prevalent on Sunday. Did I miss the memo?

When I walked in, I caught MasterTombstone tying MinaMeow up in the big cage so I sat in front of it and watched for a while. And then I spied Graydancer tying up Naiia, and I think Mataleao was assisting? (Forgive me if details are more fuzzy than usual at this point, I was functioning off of about 7 hours of sleep in 3 days). Then in the corner I saw Lochai suspending calliopeo. After wandering around the main dungeon, my attention drawn between these three scenes, I decided to find a vantage point where I could see ALL of the scenes while being inconspicuous so as not to disturb any of them with my presence. So I sat on a table in the corner (where Lochai had been binding someone the night previous and next to the rack that would serve to suspend me).

I lost track of time, my ADD going wild as I immersed myself from scene to scene, when I noticed Lochai was untying his “victim”. The scene was over. As he gathered his ropes I caught his eye briefly.

“Hey you. Wanna get tied up?” he asked, his East Coast accent peaking through. This time I didn’t just think it.

“Hell yes!” I jumped right off that table, exhaustion pretty much forgotten for the moment. After a brief negotiation, the scene commenced. Again, nearly the second the rope touched my skin, I melted, the world around me fading away. It was only he and I as his handmade rope and his hands caressed my skin, securing me tighter and tighter with each wrap, each encirclement taking me one more step into a different plane. I remember how good I felt at the sound of approval he made when he discovered that my elbows could touch behind my back.

My legs started to shake, my muscles screaming from the heels I was wearing. On a normal day, I could handle those heels, but after wearing sexy 5-6inch heels every night, my legs decided that now was the time to protest. I tried not to let the pain distract me, tried to keep myself in the alternate reality I had entered, tried to focus on the delight and pleasure Lochai’s hands and his rope administered to my entire body. But the constant persistent objections of my tired legs made it difficult. By that time, he’d wrapped rope in my mouth around my head and I was grateful that the makeshift gag was containing my mewls of pain.

I can handle this, I told myself, I’m being tied up by a celebrity rigger. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t ‘hardcore’ or something. No sooner did I tell him this that he bent down and began to unbuckle my shoes. I was in a state of disbelief at his ability to read what I tried so hard to keep contained. Was he a mind-reader? After my feet were out of the implements of torture that I’d been wearing I sighed and gave him a resounding, “Thank you!”

“If you’re going to be in pain, I’m going to be the one to cause it,” he said matter-of-factly. My stomach flipped excitedly and I felt an erotic heat flood throughout my body at that simple statement. To illustrate his point he produced a pair of nipple clamps, each with its own chain, connected to a keychain-like “O” at the middle. I’d never ever experienced nipple clamps before so I was both aroused but nervous about what would come next. He removed the ropes from around my mouth and then stuck the “O” in my mouth so that the chains tugged maliciously at my nipples, making my vision flash white.

Then he went to work on me, driving me further over the edge, fondling, stroking, smacking, pinching, kissing… It’s all a blur. At some point the “O” had fallen from my mouth and he replaced it with his tongue which possessed me as his hands continued to tease and torment. His assault began to focus on my more naughty bits and as he stroke, fondled and slapped down there I felt the first climax building slowly, encompassing my entire body, filling me more an more until I felt it begin to spill over. I begged for release and Lochai assented, telling me that I should climax as needed.

His assault continued for… who knows how long. The number of orgasms I’d experienced were now well into the double digits. At one point—I don’t even remember how it happened now—I was on the ground and he fastened me in a strict position, elbows still touching behind my back, but my chest to my upper thighs, legs straight out, and me on my side. This position afforded him quite some access to continue with his “dastardly deeds”.

At one point I started to beg for mercy, I had orgasmed so many times I couldn’t catch my breath. The scene winded down and he began to untie me. I stood shakily and he caught me up in an embrace as I regained my sense of reality. We ended up back on the floor cuddling and talking. This time Kelley was no where in sight to snatch me up. I don’t know how long we talked but it had to have been at least an hour. We talked about his wife and family, his life, our views on bondage and submission… then he turned the conversation to Hogtied.com.

He basically said that if all of that was real, then I had a spot, if I so chose. I was completely taken aback. Really? Little ol’ me? On a big time site like that?? I told him I’d put some thought into it and then get back to him. But the offer itself was such a compliment. I’ve since made my decision. But that’s a story for another blog…

We left around 11:30-midnight and made our way back to Dirty Jersey. And I knew that after that whole experience, life would not be the same.

Dark Odyssey: Winter Fire 2009 Saturday- Valentine’s DayDark Odyssey: Winter Fire 2009 Saturday- Valentine’s Day

2009-02-19T19:33:00.000-08:00

After pulling ourselves out of bed, I stumbled down and paid a ridiculous amount of money for the overpriced breakfast buffet. (What can I say, that blood sugar, it’s a BITCH). Then I made my way to my desired classes. I went to Rough Body Play by Phantom. For having what very little (what was it, 3 weeks?) experience in the scene, it was quite informative. The illustrations on the Powerpoint were extremely relevant… ‘cause ya know… kittens play rough, I tell ya! Plus I got to watch Phantom beat up super hot ladies—who could ask for more?

Then I attended Defining Moments by Graydancer. It was extremely refreshing to find a class that had to do with ideas and emotions and the otherwise intangible aspects, that could be applied not only of BDSM, but also mundania. Don’t get me wrong, I love learning about physical technique, although I’m usually just a practice bottom. But stimulating my body is one thing. My brain—well that’s where one can really fuck me good. So anyways, after the class ended, MasterTombstone went up to introduce himself to Graydancer. For some reason, my normal, very extroverted self morphed into some kind of reserved and shy, and I even might have stuttered a bit when I finally spoke. This occurrence was abnormal to say the least, but was also quite entertaining to me.

With no plans for Valentine’s Eve (dinnerish time) I was open to almost anything. I got the invite from Sir_Q take part in the shoot we’d been planning like… forever ago. I met him at Wicked Faire ‘08 when some random guy stopped me and asked me to model some [armor]( http://www.wickedvillage.org/photo/10-armor-man-4032-cropped?context=user) and he was the photographer. He also caught the beginning of Master Tombstone’s and I *gasp* FIRST public Suspension. Then, small world, I ran into him at Playa del Fuego which is the East Coast regional Burning Man. You can see the pics he took of that in my gallery…

However, I never really had any personal time with Q and his lovely partner Emily. So I definitely snagged this chance. Plus, he promised me fire. Those fire aura pictures you see on profiles like Sister Dee’s? Yeah, I got to do that. Pics are forthcoming so I’ll be able to post them soon I hope! But besides the fireplay, we ordered some room service and had some real intimate fun and what was once supposed to be dinner and pics turned into a 4 hour long play date! Not that I’m complaining. But it was 11 o’clock by the time I was able to compose myself and go downstairs and I knew I’d be seeing them the following weekend at Wicked Faire ‘09. More fun was sure to be had there, and I didn’t want to miss out on things unique to D.O.

Once downstairs back at the party, I found a group of my friends and was hanging out and talking with them. I happened to catch Graydancer out of the corner of my eye and remarked impetuously about how I thought having a play session with him would be amazing or something like that. So, of course, my good buddy Mataleao takes this as a cue to literally *drag* me over to where he was, talking to a group of very delicious females, with me struggling along the way because I would’ve rather have approached him myself, when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. My near struggle had me tripping as we reached him and practically falling into his arms— as if the stuttering wasn’t enough. I was definitely feeling both “I’m gonna get you back” and grateful to Mataleao for putting me in this predicament. For, although I felt kinda goofy (which really isn’t so bad IMO :) ) I was standing there with Gray’s arm around me as he finished his convo with the pretty ladies. Finally he looked at me and smiled and said, “Shall we?” Oh hell yes!

We found something that resembled a masseuse chair (again, I’m lost on the actual names of all this BDSM furniture) and quick as a flash, he bent me over it. Once he began securing me with his rope, it all went blurry. You see, I melt once rope hits me and I begin to be bound—provided it’s not any average joe schmoe on the street and the energy is there. Previously I’d only felt it with MasterTombstone, but really, he was the only one who’d ever tied me up (adeptly) in the past. So I melted and flew all at once and time slowed down and the world faded away and it was only him and me. I don’t remember particulars, only that he used his other amazing skills and instuments (a flogger and other instruments of mass destruction/pleasure) to make me go further into space. Then, I’d almost forgotten… I’d volunteered to take his birthday spanks. As it was, I’m assuming, well past midnight, it was time for me to take what I’d committed to (oh no, please, not that). He did have an evil wooden paddle—did I mention I HATE paddles?—and he made me count the swats in my head, beating my already sore bum in various rhythym and patterns to try to confuse me so that I’d answer incorrectly when he asked me how many I’d taken. I did, I must confess, screw up once—after being over halfway through! And so he started over. After getting less than halfway, he launched into a tirade of blows on my poor little bottom and thighs and SOMEhow I managed to count them despite their rapid descent. He asked how many…

“Only one more, Gray…” I said, huskily and half-tauntingly. I swear I heard him smile. So he gave it to me and then began rubbing the OUCH out of my posterior. “Happy Birthday, Gray,” I managed, my thoughts starting to roam elsewhere as he rubbed against me. Like I told him, I was really starting to regret my “no penetration” rule, J .

Once he’d untied me, we walked around, his arm still around me as I started to return to earth. We paused at the front door, I needed water, and I think he needed to talk to someone… I’d mentioned wanting to meet Lochai since I’d been logging onto www.Kink.com since I was 15, but I really didn’t think he’d give me the time of day as I’m sure he has women clamoring for his attention all of the time. Graydancer immediately took me to him and introduced me, then introduced my ass, which he claims is “literally the nicest ass he’s ever seen, it’s quite exceptional”. Given the tremendous number of beautiful women Gray has had the good fortune to work with, this was quite the compliment. We talked for a bit and I’d told him how many times I’d looked at the Model Call page and he said I should apply… hmmm… yeah wasn’t too sure about that one. But I didn’t have much time to ponder about it before I was snatched up by someone from behind.

I’m not sure how it happened, I was still so foggy from my extraordinary scene and from meeting someone I’d been watching make women cum in a way that only existed in my fantasies, but Kelley Dane struck again. Grabbing me, he told me he was going to take me hostage and ask MasterTombstone for random. I shot a pleading look at Graydancer and he said, “Well, I guess I’ll see ya later!” Thaaaannnnx.

I put up a pretty good fight but Kelley managed to bind my arms uselessly behind me and sat me down by one pole of a mechanical suspension rig thingee. He then proceeded to duct tape around my entire mouth, all the way around my head. Then tied my neck (loosely for all you safety freaks) to the pole. Then he had his cronies stand watch as he went to make his demands (of one dollar I would later find out) to MasterTombstone. I nearly escaped the ropes binding my arms once, when Kelley appeared out of no where and bound me back up again, this time tighter, while I kicked and struggled. He disappeared again.

I sat there and looked back, and in the dark depths of the very front of the room, in the corner behind the rig, I spotted Lochai doing… what Lochai does—tying up a pretty lady for to use and abuse. He saw me and looked approvingly at Kelley’s handiwork. Next thing I know I see MasterTombstone out of the corner of my eye coming toward me. He snapped out his knife and in one swift motion, the duct tape was cut off. He began to untie me and picked me up of the ground… Yay! He saved the day!

It wasn’t much later that I was bound with (what else?) six, dollar store, belts. I was bound with my knees to my chest and my wrists to my ankles and who knows what else, but I was bound so securely and so simply that MasterTombstone attached me to the pulley machine and I heard a wonderfully disturbing noise and I, bound in a human Ten ball, started to lift off the ground. MasterTombstone then took out his single tail and started to go to work on me although I was swinging above his head. I always marvelled that he was able to do that.

But alas, it only lasted a few minutes. We got kicked out of the dungeon again…

But the night was still young! We went to a V.I.P. party and I met up with known friends like my dear Ammre who introduced me to some new people, including the gorgeous Bella who indulged me in some delicious face slapping. I wasn’t at the party long before leaving with an extremely attractive couple. The events that went on in that room…well… I won’t go into them in great detail, but suffice it to say that I made someone my hand puppet for the first time, and I became a hand puppet…

Another night of creeping to bed in the dawning hours of twilight.

And yeah, there was still a day left yet.

Dark Odyssey: Winter Fire 2009 Day 1- Friday

2009-02-19T05:32:00.000-08:00

Having been my first major hotel event, I had no idea of what to expect about D.O. I sort of felt a little as if it was going to be disappointing because of the massive amounts of hype. Boy was I wrong.

Friday

We arrived in the mid-evening Friday night due to a flat tire. I scurried to my room to change for the evening’s festivities and I opted for the newest addition to my wardrobe- a pink and black apron-like piece and matching thigh highs—oh and I finally got to wear the pink shoes that were obtained from a photoshoot a long time ago. I really never thought I’d wear them again, pink isn’t exactly my color… but they were the perfect accent! The reason I detail this particular outfit is because I was quite nervous. It left very little to the imagination and while I’m an exhibitionist, I’m also kinda self-conscious, plus I'd already got a glimpse of some of the hotties that were in attendance.

Changes spotlight from me to the major event of the evening
MinaMeow had her first hook Suspension scheduled that evening. I remember how nervous and scattered she was, sheesh, I’d be too! She didn’t make a sound (that I could hear) as they inserted the hooks which was amazing to me. But she sure as hell did as she started to go up. I work with truckers and I don’t hear that much foul language! I was really anxious as they hauled her up. She was so tense and loud and I started to wonder what the heck was the point of the act until I saw her face relax. I felt this tremendous energy wash over me as I watched her. She positively glowed. She began to sway back and force, like a little kid playing, and I caught myself swaying in time with her at one point. She started to ask those who are closest to her to spin her…. WendyBlackheart, MasterTombstone, etc. and then she yelled “Ten! Spin me!!!”. I felt honored that she wanted me to interact with her in this intense and notable moment. When it was over, that glow that I obtained in viewing this didn’t leave. Like I said in her LiveJournal/Fetlife entry —she didn’t climb the mountain that evening, she soared over it.

Focuses spotlight back on herself After I’d gone up and had a snack (low blood sugar-- it's such a pain) and recovered to join the land of the living, I started getting antsy. It was getting late and I still hadn’t had any playtime. So I started play-bratting (much different than my real bratting I assure you) with MasterTombstone and when he started to “chastise me” I told him I’d been a naughty girl. So he decided to do what should be done to naughty girls. We got to the spanking (bench? Chair? I’m not sure what to call it) and he started going to town on my rear with various instruments. It didn’t take long for me to get “pliable” when Mina happened by. I didn’t see her right away. She started beating a rhythym on my back in tandem with Tombstone. It had me flying in no time. Then they switched, he came to my front and she stayed in back. She suggested he… well… blushes “take it out and put it in my mouth”. (JEEZ how am I going to be a porn star if I get all embarrassed typing about sucking my man’s cock) So anyways… what started as a harmless little spanking scene turned into a really hot three way action and my first encounter with public fornication

Except we got kicked out of the dungeon before it was all done. Needing a place to finish we ran into Mr. Kelley Dane and the sweet little sprout. They invited us up to continue the havoc and we did. There was rope, hitachi’s, a dragon’s tail and many other instruments of doom. At one point sprout and I ended up with an apple duck taped into my mouth, which I thought was a titallatingly novel and off the cuff move on Kelley’s part. I don’t know what time we ended up heading back to the room to pass out and rest up for the following day, but suffice it to say that it was in the wee twilight hours of morning.

I swear if that was all there was to the event, I could’ve gone home happy. But no… there was two more days left…