Nov 042014
 

It was dark. So dark.
I sat curled into a tight ball on the bathroom floor.
The door was locked.
And I sat, as if frozen.
Frozen in pain.
Afraid to move.
So I didn’t.
And all was numb.

***

He had yelled.
And something inside me broke.
And I ran.
Ran into my room, closed the door.
Into my closet, closed that door.
And then spied my plastic blue foot locker.
I knew there was safety.
I hurriedly emptied it
Climbed inside
And slunk inwards
Until the lid closed.
And I was in darkness.
Safe.
Frozen.
Hurting.
Numb.
Enclosed.
Entombed.
Okay.
For now.
The shaking stopped.
All was quiet.

***

I was screaming.
So hard.
So loud.
I choked on the convulsions of heaving.
Couldn’t stop.
Face hitting cold tile
Arms squeezing myself so tight
Violent shattering wracking my frame.
Couldn’t stop.
Had to stop.
Couldn’t stop.
More heaving.
More screaming.
I submitted to the blackness.
Later –
Saw the bloodied fingernails
Ripped out
And knew what had happened before
Really happened.
It really happened.
I felt sick.

***

Cocooned.
Buried inside metal.
All the doors are locked.
I see out, but no one can see in.
See my nakedness.
See my vulnerability.
I’m safe.
So much pain.
So much rigidity.
So much darkness.
I hug myself
In a stoic embrace.

All is numb.
All is calm.
All is okay.
For now.

Aug 242014
 

Conscientiously exploring my sexuality in person has caused me to reevaluate my platonic sluttiness and whether I actually want to be that way.

You see, I was taught that sexuality is a part of myself to be treasured and protected and not shared lightly, but I wasn’t told that the genuine care I invest in people deserves just as much discrimination and respect. Or that the giving of my time, my touch, my thoughtful considerations should only occur in contexts of appreciation and when I’m fully comfortable and happy with providing it in that moment. Why is it ‘okay’ to be pressured for a back rub but not okay to be pressured for a hand job? Why is it ‘okay’ to be guilted into providing a listening ear to a friend’s woes but not okay to be manipulated into hearing sexual fantasies you’d rather not? If the latter is unacceptable then the former should be, too. Respect of sexuality should stem from respect of the entire person.

Nowadays when someone tries to pressure me into doing something I’d rather not, I mentally swap it for a sex act and burst out laughing. You wouldn’t let yourself be pressured into sex, why let yourself be pressured into ‘being of service to others’ when you’re just not feeling it?

The whole notion of “sexual favors” is intriguing to me. People swap favors with each other all the time. It’s even socially acceptable to begin a sentence with “hey, would you do me a favor…?” Requesting and obliging favors is considered a part of normal, healthy, human interaction.

“Hey, I can’t reach this spot on my back that needs some soothing cream, would my mind applying it for me?”
“Hey, I can’t seem to fall asleep tonight and need to relax, would you mind helping me get off?”

Tell me, are you comfortable saying “no” to the first suggestion without involving an excuse of some sort? What about the second? Why was I taught to have SUCH good boundaries sexually and yet in every single other area of interpersonal interaction I was told it’s WRONG to stay within my comfort zone or refuse to serve people when I didn’t want to? What makes it so RIGHT to sacrifice myself for other people against my better judgement in every other aspect of life except sexuality?

Is it because my sexuality actually has worth? Is sacred? Precious? Attached to my soul? Interwoven to the very depths of my being?

You bet it is. And guess what – the rest of me is too. So when people pimp my story1 and smiles and accommodating attitude and then dish me a load of emotional blackmail if I don’t go whore myself out accordingly that is JUST as damaging and degrading to myself as a person as being pressured into sexual acts. In both cases it’s a giving of myself, a deep part of myself intrinsic to who I am. Manipulating me to share it is all kinds of wrong. I should be the one controlling who gets my time and attention and under which circumstances.

This is a major reason I hide from the circles of smiling overeager churchgoers who’ve all “heard so much about” me and painfully attempt to insert themselves into my life for their own internal gratification. No, it’s not sexual, but it may as well be – psychologically it’s just as violating and for all the same reasons. And heaven help me if I don’t pretend I’m enjoying it.

Thus I quietly slip away to my world where I’ve surrounded myself with kind, respectful people that I happen to mesh well with. And as enthusiasm runs the gamut of kinky impact play to platonic cuddles to deep conversations to playful joking to hot, sexy, sensual times I’m over here learning how not to be a slut.

I don’t like it after all.2

  1. My real world story is remarkable, but not for sharing here.
  2. That is, being the ‘service slut’ religion has trained me to be. As for sexual sluttiness, a friend reminded me the other day I probably already fit that definition by most people’s standards. I was like oh.
Aug 242014
 

I was watching Now is Good – a tearjerker on a young woman dying of cancer – when a poignant scene on relationship intimacy jumped out at me:

Tessa: Stay with me. Stay the nights.
Adam: What do you want from me, Tess?
Tessa: Nighttime, sleeping together or waking up together, breakfast…
Adam: What do you really want?
Tessa: I want you to be with me in the dark. To hold me, to keep loving me. To help me when I get scared. To come right to the edge and see what’s there.
Adam: And what if I get it wrong?
Tessa: It’s impossible to get wrong.

An undeniably sweet moment I very much enjoyed that’s just begging for my analytical brain’s dissection. ;)

Because first, it is completely possible to get it wrong. If it isn’t naturally oozing out of a person then they’re going to be crap at it. Which most often occurs if the other person feels obligated, and/or doesn’t have there wherewithal to be mentally and emotionally present in the moments that matter. It also requires literally slowing down, which many people are simply unwilling to do these days.

Now, sometimes, if you love someone enough, it’s okay if they’re crap at it because you know they’re trying and they love you and that’s all that matters. It’s just a different setup than what this movie character asked for, and probably wouldn’t meet her needs.

Notice how two distinct arrangements were requested. Initially, she conservatively suggested companionship – physical proximity and shared activities. Then, when asked what she really wants (’cause in movies men always say exactly what the woman needs to hear) she shared her genuine desire: an intimate relationship of loving support and the type of emotional connection that voluntarily bares itself to the harshest of realities.

This is is where I realize the interpersonal awareness of kink and cuddle parties have forever ruined my blissfully ignorant enjoyment of chick flicks…

  • She told him she wanted one thing, when she really wanted something different. COMMUNICATION, girl. Learn it. Don’t rely on a doe-eyed movie character to prompt you exactly the way you want him to before you’ll be honest. Really, now.
  • Adam, if you don’t think you’re up to the task, then by God, NEGOTIATE! Doubtless there are some aspects of the suggestion you’re comfortable with, and others you’re unsure of. It’s not an all or nothing deal; you have a say in this. Share your concerns, ask for clarification, find out what aspects of the proposed arrangement you’re mutually comfortable with and move forward with that. Just because a cute girl has stupid blind faith in you isn’t going to make you perfect. Honestly assess the verity of your self-doubts because those are legitimate indicators of what you’re up to on a gut level. It’ll save you both a lot of drama.

You see, its entirely possible that companionship may end up being preferred by both parties, or some conglomeration of the two instead. Which is what makes this dance so essential for fulfilling connections.

The average vanilla society thinks relationships occur only in a few different forms. There’s boyfriend/girlfriend, there’s one (or two, or 3+) night stands, there’s friends with benefits, and there’s “just friends”. What they don’t seem to realize is how many flavors are in between.

For example:

1. I have a close friend who knows how I tick probably better than anyone else on the planet. The primary foundation of our relationship is support and companionship, sometimes more one than the other. Sometimes it’s kinky, sometimes it’s sexual, sometimes it’s both, sometimes it’s neither. We also easily slip into co-worker roles to tackle jobs together. He’s my “anything and everything” friend. A solid unassuming presence that I take special delight in bouncing off of in all sorts of directions as my life transforms.

2. Another man I know is vastly different. After the initial period of figuring out where we fit into each others’ lives, our relationship has settled into physically and emotionally intimate play partners of often voracious intensity – only to practically forget the other exists in between sessions. Sometimes kinky, sometimes vanilla, sometimes more sexual, other times more emotional, sometimes more talking, other times more activity. And no ongoing companionship. It’s simply what suits us. It’s neither better nor worse than the aforementioned relationship, just a different flavor. One that makes me grateful I have an adventurous palate instead of requiring every relationship to have the same base ingredients.

3. Yet another man I’m privileged to know has an amazingly acute awareness of emotion and energetic connection. The day we met was characterized by staring deeply into each others eyes for hours on end, completely at ease – to our mutual shock. Our relationship’s cornerpieces are absolute acceptance of one another and a quite intensely sensitive care for the other’s well being, which has distilled into ongoing companionship, casual support and free flowing experimentation when it suits. Primarily cuddle buddies with a penchant for emotional depth of connection and support, we also have weeks and months where we rarely connect, though still swap living space and occasionally catch up as “normal” friends, pausing our busy lives to cheer one another on in individual pursuits.

Each of these three men are vastly different in personality, vocation, strengths, and in their relationship with me. And I find it all beautiful. With each, I’ve experienced some degree of romantic interest at some point, and neither ran away from it nor ended up really doing much with it beyond perhaps dipping my toes into the fringes of the possibilities. Because, y’know, you can do that.

I’ve also been experimenting sexually for years now and still have yet to be completely naked with anyone or try penetration with a partner. Because you can do that, too, if it suits your fancy. And so far it happens to suit mine. It’s called freedom. You get to set up relationships how they work for you and the other party(/ies) involved. There is no template. Listen. Listen to the heartbeat of the connection within the walls of each others’ habits and preferences and realities and adapt the relationship to dance in step with that inaudible yet undeniable throbbing beat.

Once in synch, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Because although the relationship may not crystalize into what you were hoping for, it simply feels so incredibly right. It’s comfortable. It’s sustainable to your own life as an individual. It allows you to revel in a person’s beauty without being affected by their “weaknesses”, and for other person to do the same towards you. When a relationship works there’s no bending of one person to accommodate the other, you simply fit together like puzzle pieces and life continues onward as a more complete tapestry of brilliance.

And presently it happens that there’s another great guy I’ve met. And connected with. And with whom I’m currently dancing the intriguing complexities of discovering how our connection will unfold. Kinky play partners and light but constant daily contact are the main themes so far, avoiding emotional depth and attachment but flirting with the edges of intimacy during playtime. It’s thrilling and it’s comfortable and it’s totally no pressure. It might taper off in a month or it might continue for years – it might evolve into something different or it might stay more or less the same in flavor.

And you know what? All these possibilities, all these options, all the potential directions for each and every one of these relationships is okay exploration by me.

I love connecting with people. Period. It’s the people I appreciate and enjoy, not the relationships per se. Sexuality, romance, kink, vanilla, cuddles, intimacy, companionship, support, are all merely ingredients that may or may not naturally occur in a particular relationship, for various reasons that usually aren’t worth examining. It just happens, and there’s no need to ask why – just move with the flow of it and experience the glorious result. It awes me, the chemistry occurring between compatible people. To me, that’s something intrinsically worthwhile, to be respected and cultivated. The exact combination of ingredients ultimately contributing are of little importance to me compared to the joy of quality connection resulting from whatever works.

Forcing another ingredient into the mix can ruin the entire recipe. Conversely, experimenting with the ingredients on hand that practically DARE you to try them is how each relationship tends to evolve until it hits its stride…trying this or that and tasting the result to decide whether or not we prefer it. I consider this process great fun, and nothing to be afraid of or rushed through. The longer two people know each other, the more they learn which ingredients tend to make the tastiest mutual experiences, and the more nuanced their palate becomes of any additional experiments.

I absolutely love the whole thing.

And while movies may be cute and even inspiring, IMO they don’t hold a candle to the delicious complexities of real connections with real people in real life. There’s an incredible world of humanity out there, people. Don’t limit your relationships to templates – listen to the mutual heartbeat of each compatibility and just watch as beauty emerges from unforced interaction.

Trust me, you’ll never look back.

Aug 052014
 

“So tense,” he murmured, stroking me.

“Loosen up. Breathe.”

It didn’t occur to me to resist the instructions; my body instinctively obeyed the voice and hands pausing for a moment from their beating to caress and massage my form.

Thwack.

Searing pain lashed my shoulderblade and rippled through my body in a writhing whimper. The option to brace myself internally had been removed. How, I don’t know – only that without it I’m reduced to this state of responsive helplessness.

Thwack.

My entire body arched backwards as sound wrenched from my throat.

Thwack.

If only he wouldn’t keep hitting that same damn spot.

Thwack.

My world is each moment. Nothing exists beyond the physical space I occupy. Between the blindfold and the rope securing my wrists above my head any thought of escape or fighting back has long since vanished. There’s only this. Here. Now.

Thwack.

“Please stop.” The words escaped my lips unbidden.

He paused. “Did you just beg me to stop?”

I shook my head vehemently, defiance welling up. I may not have much dignity left but I’ll white knuckle whatever vestiges remain.

“No? I thought I heard you begging me to stop.”

His amusement was palpable. Ugh.

I maintained silence.

Thwack.

Silence broken.

“Shhh… I think I hear someone coming.” Hands wrapped around my throat in a choke hold and began to squeeze.

There are certain disadvantages to playing in a public park, even off trail and out of sight amongst the forest’s thick underbrush.

“Do you trust me to give you air when you need it?”

I nodded without hesitation.

Thwack.

My airways were cut off. I panicked. In sheer desperation my foot pathetically clawed at his shin. His voice dropped to a near whisper in my ear as he continued, releasing enough for me to breathe before tightening his grip again. I hung on every word, every touch, as helplessly as I hung from the rope above me.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been more free.

Grip released, I whimpered.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmph.”

“Yes or no?”

I forced my brain to focus for a moment. Gut check. “Yes.”

“Your hands okay? Can you feel this? Squeeze my fingers. Good.”

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

~

Untold minutes later I feel myself untied and gently carried to a spot where we can sit down. Slowly, I begin to come out of the dreamy haze, amidst details that now escape my memory. As my strength began returning, so did my personality…

“Yeah, you’d better give me a hug after what you just did to me.” ;)

Jul 042014
 

I’m quietly preparing to have sex for the first time in my life.

I say “quietly” because, in my mind, this isn’t actually a big deal. The getting ready for it, that is. I haven’t decided that I actually want to have sex anytime soon-ish, but over the past several weeks my face-to-face encounters with exploration has – on this day – culminated in a realization that I need to start thinking about what precautions should be in place in case I do bring that possibility to the table.

And so I research birth control options, STDs, and sort out gynecology coverage for myself.

I think something about knowing I’m fully ready and able to have safe sex will make the decision not to “go that far” more valid, if that is what I continue to choose. I’m loving my new freedom. Being around someone I care about where sex is on the table and I graciously turn it down has been an incredible experience for me so far, where each of us has such high respect for the other that here is not the slightest judgment of any form of desire, nor any hint of pushing boundaries.

This is my opportunity to discover myself. At long last.

He asked me a few weeks ago if I still wanted to save sex for marriage. My answer: “I believe if that’s what I truly want, then it will occur organically by making each decision in the moment.”

That was true at the time. But now, as I feel myself beginning to fall emotionally in the most beautiful ways that I didn’t even think possible, I’m realizing how heady such influence can be in temporary moments that might be regretted1 later.

So conservative Christian culture was actually right about something for once. Hrmph.

Thus far I feel good about where my explorations have gone, but now I realize there’s opportunity for going further than my current beliefs would be cool with,2 and thus I’m preparing accordingly. Which on paper sounds like a bigger deal than it actually is. Simply put, I’ve decided where my physical boundaries are right now, and also that those will not be changed in the heat of the moment. There is also a trust involved that the other person will not merely go along with that boundary but also respect it, to the point of helping me maintain it if needed. I wouldn’t be mentally letting myself go this far otherwise.

This must be what complete freedom looks like. The freedom to maintain my long-held personal values, the freedom to let them go, and full support in either direction.

I’m telling you, it’s astonishingly glorious.

  1. The whole “I have no regrets” thing is bullshit, IMO. It’s good to avoid dwelling on regrets, and to see regrets in a positive light as learning experiences, but they’re still regrets. Regret is not a dirty word in my book.
  2. This is how much complication is prevented – in every area of my life. I only do things that mesh with my personal feelings/beliefs/convictions/whatever, which naturally evolve over time. Allowing that process to unfold at its own pace tends to work swimmingly for me. The alternative, not so much.
Jun 102014
 

Strangers
Strangely familiar
We connected across the room.

Eyes direct
Close, unwavering contact
No secrets.

Touches
Laughter
Dreams.

Enjoy it, my new dear friend.
All we have is these moments
Before I slip away.

Jun 042014
 

I step through the doorway, and I’m here.

I’m here.

A subconscious smile dances on my lips.

Something happens when I retreat to a place where I know I can be myself. Fully me. Without judgement, without ill effect on anyone else, without the need to explain myself. Rarely, it happens with others, but alone – oh, just give me the sweet isolation and soundproof surroundings and let me watch myself unfold from the tiny protective ball that is my default these days.

It isn’t just the sexual freedom, though that is part of it. It’s bigger than that. Where I can orgasm loudly, I can also weep loudly, or laugh with abandon or sing whatever I wish, even haphazardly changing keys when it so suits me to do so. It is a complete freedom of expression.

And it’s only been since my journey of exploring sexuality that I’ve come to unlock that part of myself and fully indulge in it.

I’ve been tame so far. Only been here a few hours, and doing the usual boring routine of unpacking and setting up. But I’ve got this sly smile that keeps re-emerging. Because I know what the next few days mean. They mean I’ll be seeing a lot of myself. And I know it sounds vain but I think that’s totally cool. :D

Jun 012014
 

I was listening to music, letting my mind wander and browsing FetLife when I remembered I have a meeting.

Right.

So I’m on this Skype meeting, being all professional and talking business as I let my gaze wander back over kinky pictures and posts. I remind myself to make sure my “dirty mind” filter is in place, and say “mhmm” periodically.

I need to get off.

The meeting dragged on. I squirmed. I became annoyed. And then the meeting turned into we’ve discussed everything we need to but I’m going to keep yammering on about my life because I enjoy conversing with you.

Another day, perhaps. I’ve got …other things to do.

Ended meeting. Check the time. Oh no, is THAT today too??

I’ve still got time.

Or I might be a little late.

At this point, I don’t care.

I grab my fairy mini massager – my preferred quickie instrument – and lose myself to good time.

Upon returning to the world where clocks exist -  Man, now I want to write about it!

And I’m going to be late!

Oh well. Some days are just like that. :)

May 252014
 

~
I catch a glimpse of myself just before entering the shower and pause mid-step.
Naked curves stare back in the mirror like so much chocolate daring me to eat it.
What am I to do but indulge myself in admiration?
A caress, an approving smile, turning this way and that, deliciously exploring the image in front of me…
~

I think I’m beautiful. I love feeling beautiful, I love relishing my body and appreciating its assets, as I run my hands over hollowed skin and bones, my skeletal frame standing out stark against my pale skin.

Oh wait a minute, you mean you’re thin? Ridiculously skinny? Underweight? Stop, just STOP IT! No body appreciation for YOU, young lady. Don’t you know it’s unhealthy to be that way? Shame on you for perpetuating the sorry state of American ideals. Go fix your mindset, put on a few pounds, and then learn to love your body, you cute little idiot!

Sigh.

Loving my body right now is a private indulgence, almost a guilty pleasure. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Because I happen to reside in a body that’s too thin – emaciated, actually. And as such I automatically attract others’ admiration, jealousy, and self-righteous snobbery of how “healthy is beautiful” and they wouldn’t want to be as skinny as I am anyway.

I wonder how appropriate it’d be if I told an obese person that “healthy is beautiful and I wouldn’t want to be as fat as they are”? Just sayin’. There are politically correct ways to insult underweight people that would inspire public rage if directed towards an overweight person.

And I’ve heard it all.

I’ve never struggled with an eating disorder, but people like to assume that I do. I’ve watched as loved ones battled anorexia and I have great respect for the seriousness of those situations, the courage of those who fight it and the importance of professional help and solid support throughout the journey. I’ve simply never had that particular issue myself. Gaining weight has always been a healthy thing in my book. I’m all for wholesome full-fat, full-sugar foods1, more than 3 meals a day and plentiful snacks in between.

It’s just that I have medical issues that present major hurdles to gaining weight. Physiological, not psychological. And I daily fight to put on another pound.2

But no matter what I say people are people and they’ll believe what they want. And rather than protest their diagnosis of denial I’ve learned to proactively head off any hint of suspicion early on by deriding my own boniness and shooting down any compliments with remarks about how I need to gain weight.

It works.

But then I encounter body positivity, and I ache to join in.

Aren’t all sizes welcome?

Because – I hesitate to admit – I love being tiny.

At first it freaked me out. When I began dropping pounds off my already slender frame I thought it was grotesque. I watched as the hollows between my bones sunk further every day, highlighting previously hidden anatomy. Soon, though, a morbid fascination began to take over as I explored my body in ways I never had before. It’s a curious opportunity to have a living skeleton at one’s fingertips. So many unique facets to discover. That delicate dip extending down the length of my sternum, the elegant protrusions of my scapula, even the amusement of counting every rib by sight alone.

I explored it, I played with it, and as time wore on, I gradually accepted it.

Now I enjoy it.

I love fitting into tiny places, such as squishing between two people on a couch. I love being easily carried, easily hugged, easily jostled. I love the dainty sensation of it – even the way others act around me because of it, as if I were a delicate, exotic flower that might crumple to pieces if you so much as glance sideways at me.

I relish these aspects – and then I jerk myself away, because I’m afraid I’ll enjoy it too much. If I fall in love with the perks3 of being underweight then what happens when I finally manage to gain a few pounds? Would I still appreciate my body like I do now?

What if I don’t?

It feels safer to hold the acceptance and appreciation of my body at arm’s length until I get closer to a healthy weight. But that may not happen in the near future. And I find myself wondering, what if I fully embraced it now, and stopped worrying about problems that haven’t even materialized (and perhaps never will)?

Might that be okay?scapula Q90 500W

Might that actually be phenomenal?

But what would others say?

I guess here’s my chance to find out.

Hi, everyone. I’m extra – extra – small, and loving it! My body is amazing. It feels amazing. It’s interesting in ways most bodies you’ll encounter these days aren’t. It’s intricate and tiny with a strength that will surprise you, betraying only hints of what lies beneath the surface.

If beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, then I behold myself and hereby declare: I am beautiful.

  1. I don’t care what people say, sugar isn’t necessarily evil.
  2. Or, some days, I’m just desperately hanging on to the pounds I’ve got as if clinging to the edge of a cliff by my fingernails.
  3. That’s not to say there aren’t some highly compelling downsides to being underweight.
May 242014
 

I have a chronic pain condition.

Any movement right now is agony. Even just staying upright and typing this is torture. But I want to, because it sure as hell beats lying alone with my pain imagining this post that would otherwise never materialize.

I cannot tell you how badly I want someone to hurt me right now.

On the classic pain scale of 1-10, my pain is currently about a 7. Higher without distraction. I’d need inflicted pain to match and then slightly exceed that to even get my attention. I’m not talking about a little bit of pain. I know what a little bit feels like. I’m talking a good, substantial, repeated dose of pain.

The good pain melds with the bad pain, and the endorphin rush medicates both.

I do have prescription drugs, and I use them, but I greatly prefer kink. For a few reasons, not the least of which I’ve taken two different medications already today and this is my pain level after those.

So if you were here right now, I’d kindly ask you to please hurt me. Hurt me good. I don’t much care how, so long as it gets through. Just so long as it’s enough. It needs to pierce this wall of pain so I can see the other side, so I can connect with you, with life. I’m lost in a sea of bad pain – give me good pain to counteract it. Force me to know what pleasure feels like, instead of every sensation being this non-consensual ravaging of my body’s attack. This is how you can help me. This is how you can save me, just for this moment, just for now, just for a few seconds of blessed relief.

Hurt me. Wrest control from my grasp. Make me yell, make me struggle, make me beg, plead, cry, scream. Make me fight you until I can’t anymore. Because that’s the only way I can fight this pain. It has me in its grasp otherwise and I can’t move, I can’t resist, I can’t protest, I can’t safeword and I fucking hate feeling so helpless to something I didn’t choose.

So – I beg of you – hurt me. Hurt me good.