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Showing posts with the label The Lifestyle

In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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#NoDickShaming

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Calm the Lioness

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I didn't kink last night.  Despite two of my favorite presenters and a topic I'm still curious to explore, I looked at the NYC skyline, the cramped streets, and the endless rain, and I chose the uptown track to carry my home. I didn't kink tonight.  Too leary of wacky icky energy of strange ones, couples with their own focused agenda, and Times Square on a hot sticky night, I avoided another preferred event.  I just didn't have it in me to sift through chaos to find positive crumbs, so I met a friend and talked 1:1 kink for two hours. My choices weren't born of a need to preserve my strength.  I'm almost vibrating with the need to move, an echo of my pacing lioness. My choices were about a need to shield myself from unnecessary aggravation, and if you've never hit Times Square between 5 and 6 pm or spent a rainy evening on New York City streets, at best it can be one hassle after another as everyone fights to avoid the misery of a wet, humid, icky rush
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I'm Not the Concierge to the Kinky Wonderland Entrance

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I fucked up a few weeks ago.  Did something stupid.  REALLY STUPID. At the enthusiastic prompting/encouragement of a half-outed kinkster, I fully outed myself to a friend of his (who he swore was kinky) and invited them to join me for a local class I was about to attend. Commence the fucking TRAINWRECK. In under 120 seconds... She revealed missing KEY pieces to their previous interactions that caught me completely off guard.  No...owning my shit here...I felt like an absolute fool. Yes, she had her own alternative lifestyle interest (poly) and seemed openmind to hearing about my own BDSM interests.  She was decently knowledgeable on basic terminology and agreed to join us, but she acted WAY cooler than she was. He got weird and started a bit of a shock-and-awe act as I answered her questions, which amplified my feeling used and more a fool. I without really thinking in this rushed conversation that was quickly picking up speed and tension outed Him another significant deg
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Why "Owner/property" Rather than "Master/slave"?

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A question came my way last month, "Why Owner/property?  As opposed to Master/slave?"  I struggled to answer beyond, "'Property' felt right.  'Slave" has never worked for me."  I didn't add at the time that neither has "Master."  (I was trying to be semi-well-behaved and not offend anyone.)  I've always struggled to answer the 'property' vs 'slave' question, but I searched deeper on my train ride home and have continued to play with the puzzle pieces.  Turns out, there was a lot to unpack and fit together. There are many implied nuances that apply to both "slave" and "property":  belonging, protected, the follower of a leader, etc.  All of those resonate deeply within me.  Always have.  However, FOR ME, "slave" felt inherently wrong, like a dress that fit poorly and whose fabric itched the moment it touched my skin.  Despite my knowledge that I have been/could be utterly devoted to
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The Blessing of Folsom

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Two years ago, I wandered into my first Folsom Street East with no idea what to expect.  I'd heard rave reviews of the street festival at some of my first few TES classes, so on a hot, humid, early summer day I found myself on a single closed off block in NYC surrounded by much phenomenal pride and an outstanding display of stunning drag queens, hunky gay men in next to nothing, and a more back hair than I ever wanted to see.  LOL  (Keeping it real real here folks!) I walked by vendors and organizations and food carts, young people and old, the dressed and nearly undressed, men, women, and gender fluid, leather and uniquely their own, and then took my very overheated (suffered heat exhaustion a few weeks before) ass home, grateful to have gone and to have felt the beautiful energy.  However, other than awareness I remained relatively unchanged by the event.  I had felt the joy and love around me, but being still new to the local kink scene and a straight, white, female...well m
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My Distaste for Crutches

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I guess it was inevitable.  On average I RSVP to a dozen local events every month.  Most of them are groups/events I've already attended in the past two years, but every now and then I try to check out something new.  In January, I RSVP to a more upscale social that I'd heard about a few different times. The day of the event I was still debating.  Weather, tiredness, work deadlines...I was wavering on whether or not to take the side trip downtown that evening.  Checking my Fet inbox cinched my decision...no go. I had two unsolicited emails from 30-ish males seeking someone to hold their hand.  One asked me to meet for drinks with him (REMINDER...a total stranger, not even a profile pic) prior and then go to the event with him.  The other spammy email from an essentially blank profile who also stated no seemingly personal interest in me but wanted to connect at the event. The distaste in my mouth was immediate and strong.  I clicked "Not Going" in relief and anno
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Poly Question List: My Search for Answers & Understanding

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That Old Relic - Honor

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In a world consumed by instant gratification, which is the new norm...no...the new God, sadly concepts such as Honor have become vague relics of the past, echoed only by ghosts and eulogies of heroes.  Maybe this is where the hopeless romantic in me sticks out like a prickly cactus in a deep bed of used instant scratch off tickets, but Honor is still very much a part of my DNA. I don't brag or blow smoke up anyone's ass.  Why?  They'd find out soon enough that I was full of shit.  How embarrassing would that be???  Plus I've never been able to find logic in lies and pompous nonsense.  The first time MasterKwesi met one of my friends, he shook her hand and said, "Wow...she's amazing.  She's one of the few people that says she's about x and then actually is x."  I was a bit stunned for a moment that he was impressed by just basic honesty, but my Honorable genes run deeper. I do my best to Honor the agreements I make - even if I've made a mi
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