switchkitty78: (Milady's marque)
Kittyboy must love me. Last night after dinner he said something about feeling horny and adventurous. To shreds, you say. He must have read something in my face in return because he asked what I had in mind. I tried to demurr with "ehh, you wouldn't like it," but he was all "No, seriously, what?" so I confessed that I've been itching to hurt someone lately. Without batting any of his sickeningly pretty eyelashes his answer was "All right. Let's do this."

For all I that I love tying him up and doing evil things to him, I don't do it near often enough. Once every six months or so. I should really work on fixing that because it's so much fun to tie him up and make him squirm, and it don't hurt none that if you look at him too hard his skin puffs up into these welts that are not only pretty, but fun to pinch afterwards. Also I think if I got more of a chance to do things (and a little more warning in which to plan stuff) I'd work out some of the shyness I still have surrounding my more sadistic tendencies, I could still feel myself holding back a LOT, and I know he can take a lot more than I was giving him last night. 'Course it doesn't help that I still have a lot of paralyzing shyness about wanting/needing this, so asking for it is still something of a problem for me.

Still, last night did have excellent bits. A few things of note that worked beautifully well that I must keep in mind for later:

  • Engagement rings with a raised setting make a fantastic scratching/cutting implement. Also has the "something you gave me coming back to bite you" element to it, which makes me all kinds of giggle.

  • Tying people up the wrong way round on a bed (as in head towards the foot of the bed) is disorienting.

  • Related to the above, depending on how you chain your bottom's hands, that gives you a whole other fun element to play with. In an unusually inspired moment as I was gleefully dribbling candle wax over Kittyboy's clamped nipples and chest I straddled the footboard of the bed and his hand so he could finger me at the same time, and the crazier he drove me the nastier I got with the wax until he gasped he couldn't take too much more, and I told him that if he made me cum I'd stop. Lucky for him, I was ye close anyway.

So yeah, goodness knows when we'll get up to that level of shenanigans again, but last night was quite with the lovely. But yes, I do need to let my giggling little sadist out to play more often. With a few less leashes, maybe.
switchkitty78: (Milady's marque)
Man, this is the sort of day where I wish the Court of Night Blooming Flowers were real - I could really use a trip to Valerian House right about now. Not that I'd be able to afford it. *grumble* But yeah, I really want to cane someone into a crying purple mess, and I really really shouldn't because with the mood I'm in I'm rather past caring about the other person's potential enjoyment of this activity. Not exactly a mind set conducive to Safe Sane and Consensual.

It'll pass by the time I get home tomorrow. It always does. But right now I'm just going to dig my fingernails into my palms, grit my teeth, eat some leftover steak and ride it out until the beast goes back to sleep.

Damn it

Nov. 7th, 2010 03:16 pm
switchkitty78: (Default)
I'm finally getting around to reading Naamah's Kiss. Much like everything else in Carey's Terre D'Ange series, it's having its usual effect on me to the point of grinding my teeth in pleasurable frustration. I also have the bad luck to be reading it during the point in my cycle where I'm naturally more inclined to just spend the entire day in bed but not sleeping.

Yes yes, that's EVERY point in my cycle ha ha shut up.

Not that there isn't a part of me relishing the whole awash in anticipatory deliciousness bit, but it does make it harder than usual to get anything else done other than read and occasionally bury my lips in that maddeningly delicious curve right where the right side of Kittyboy's neck meets his shoulder. It's nowhere near enough, but it helps blunt the edge a little.
switchkitty78: (ravished)
I one hundred percent get the meaning of "living in sin" right now. Kittyboy and I have been doing it for going on three weeks now, and sinning has been rampant from day one. No, really. My first memory of being here after the whirlwind of boxes and furniture was us hanging stuff in our improbably large closet together and him just squeezing behind me, reaching around, slipping his hand down my pants and fingering me until my knees and a couple other bits of anatomy melted out from under me. I have this vague flash of the wooden rail biting into my hands as I gripped it, and later sitting against the closet door panting "these were clean pants..." as I recovered and him just smirking. As he does. Infuriatingly well.

The leashes seem to be coming off with out own space; he's gotten... vocal... in the past few weeks and I love every delightfully filthy horrible thing that falls out of his mouth and into my ear right before he closes his too-sharp teeth on the lobe, the growl deep in his throat when he's biting mine, and sweetest and rarest of all, a little while back he let out this lovely little thing somewhere between a moan and sigh as he came deep in my ass that echoed in my head for a day and a half afterward and made me wet every time I thought of it for days after that. And then there's things like tonight, where I playfully sent him an IM saying I was going to come into his den and suck his cock, and I did, for a good long half an hour. It ended with both of us in the hallway, me bent over the landing with my pants around my ankles, him braced against the wall, fucking me hard.

Pff. And to think some people think that living in sin is a bad thing. Clearly they've never tried it.
switchkitty78: (flogger)
"Have the kind of sex with Kittyboy that scares you" was the assignment from my Lady. Best laid plans of Mice and Men gang aft agley.

No mistake, I found a way to shove at my boundaries, just probably not in the way expected of me. In a lot of ways I feel like I copped out last night in terms of what was actually done. Still, the evening did end with me in a sobbing, broken ball of hurt, with a Kittyboy wrapped around me warm and tight and comforting, dropping kisses on any bits of my face he could reach and gently brushing away the tears I had been carrying in my heart for too damn long.

I hate crying. I did so much of it in the past two years in the slow excruciating process of breaking up with my exes that I simply just don't do it anymore unless I'm pushed to. Even if I need to. And I won't do it in front of people anymore, because I find it so fucking humiliating. I think that's only the third time ever Kittyboy's actually seen me cry. And just lately I've been carrying so much around - fear, stress, anxiety, rage, grief, what have you - it had just hardened into a knot somewhere behind my eyes where I could ignore it most of the time.

Last night before he came over I was tying up my hair and watching Moulin Rouge! (I needed to see something as frenetically mercurial as I was feeling, and that movie goes from pure unadulterated batshit insanity to melodramatic bathos pretty much in one straight downward pointing line), I was kinda just trying to sit with all of my emotions at once, instead of the usual trying to stuff them all down into their usual box somewhere in the back corner of my psyche, trying to muster up the courage to pull one out. It's interesting that it was mostly the sad that showed up, since I think I wanted it to be something a little meaner, a little Darker, for lack of a better word (and only better in the sense that only my Lady, and little sister will know exactly to what I'm referring). But that's what showed up, and by the end of the evening, I needed to cry and be taken care of. Of course, that's never something I feel comfortable asking for in words. so when Kittyboy did show up and curiously inquired about the previous post, I handed Mace Windu to him, dropped trou, and gave up my ass for shredding. And fucking as it turned out.

yeah, I've actually never been caned in earnest. That shit hurts, and I've now got a nasty bruise/welt stretching from one asscheek to the other, which certainly makes sitting more than a little interesting. And god forbid you actually touch it. But it got the job done. And it was something I wanted, and needed, and had to actually ask for, which I have serious problems doing. Maybe I could have pushed myself harder, taken more, but breaking a dam causes mudslides and destruction - better to gate it open slowly, you know?

One leash, one chain at a time. Meanwhile, Kittyboy has something to smirk and swagger about. Until next time.


switchkitty78: (Default)

June 2014



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