Ev's kink corner

3:45am and I hit that wall hard. Didn't finish getting everything all ready, but I did get almost everything done. Master helped once he got home at 1:30am. 

Buhhhh.

No idea when they are showing up today!

 

These are some rare old ones. Most have the ugly yellow stitches that you have to black out with a sharpie. Unless you like yellow stitches, not judging here, heh!
I traded them with a friend, because I had a pair of steel toe boots that were too tight.
This is the pair I wore yesterday for that couple I've started seeing. Got some better conditioner, and am going to treat them again today. I did feel sexy wearing them. Might've walked extra provocatively in front of them whislt they smoked (I can't be near the smoke) until the dom ran up on me trying to swat my ass. I dodged, then wasn't sure why I dodged, lol. Martial arts training sets in hard, as I doded, spun, and went into a fighting stance. 
So he watched me as I walked, and noted that I always looked over my left shoulder, and never my right. He waited until I was in a more crowded, noisy area, snuck up quietly on my right side, and swatted my ass.
"Always study your prey and learn it's movements," he said. Hah.
So yeah. Liking the boots. Extra stompy and tall. 

Last night I learned about bootblacking. 
Met up with the couple in SF, and at the end of the evening we were back in Wicked Grounds. 
He had me polish his boots, and then he had me ride his knee, grinding myself on him right there in the middle of the cafe.
I was bright red but gods, it was hot. 
Have to make sure the cafe earns it's 18+ rating!
They had to leave, and the kind baristas let me hang out after closing until I was sure I was back down to earth from subspace.

I went home, and oh, I missed Master so much! He's working a bunch of 12 hour shifts. It's hard, because he doesn't get home until close to 2am. I don't have work until the evening today, though, so I stayed up and waited for him.

We laid in bed together and talked about boot fantasies. I'd told him some of mine before, and he thought they were hot and eventually started having those fantasies, too. He ground his knee into me as we talked about it, and then rolled me on my back and started fingering me.

Gods it felt so good.

By the time he decided to take me, fucking the hell out of me as only he can, I was cumming and cumming and cumming. I screamed and shrieked and looked into his intense, gorgeous eyes. Holy fuck, that man never ceases to amaze me. We fit together so perfectly.

I love him so damned much.

My poor pussy is so sore, but writing all of this has got me turned on again. Sucks that Master has to run off to work...

On Wednesday, the couple meets Master for the first time, and then they are spending the night. 

It's realy hard, staying up so late when I work a lot of mornings, but I want Master to take me again. Might have to collapse tonight, though. Two doms and a really hot sub who loves to egg things on, and me, tomorrow. 

I'm so fucked.

In the best of ways. 

Sometimes, life is good. Very good. 

It started with a visit to go hiking in the redwoods and take some photos. 

"Pack some toys, just in case the mood strikes."

A day and a half later, and I'm home. I keep thinking of this or that moment, and it takes my breath away.

What a beautiful weekend. What an amazing time. So much bonding, healing. So many orgasms. So much trust. I won't go into a ton of details, out of respect for them and their privacy. But oh... oh my gods...

On Wednesday they meet Ashigeru. Oh gods, please let them all get along! Please! 

I could even dare to dream of chasing a herd of unicorns and hope for a foursome, hah.

But it isn't just about sex and hot scenes. It's about bonding, connection. It's about finding pack. It's about feeling that I could, actually, really, have that leather family I've always wished for. 

If only they weren't on the other side of the planet. Fuck. Or maybe "FAHWK" as they would say. 

He's given me orders to polish my boots. The things he whispered in my ear as he bent me over the trunk of my car, right there in the zoo parking lot... he didn't do anything inappropriate really, nothing lewd. But the things he said as he pressed himself against me. Gods. 

I want my pack. I want my Master feeling safe and secure and happy with a family of good lifestyle people. I want my porch-cat beastie to learn to trust and come in from the rain when he can stand it, knowing there is a warm home that will always welcome him, a safe place. I want my submissive friend to have a place to come and let go from time to time, where he can feel cared for and be his punk-ass playful bratty self. I want my dying partner to be surrounded by warmth and love and care from us all, but I know that part will never happen.

But really, really, I want my Master and I want this thing that is growing with this dom-sub couple from the other side of the world.

She, the sub, has said she will fly me there, when I can get the time off work, to stay with them. He says they'll have the dungeon ready. I am absolutely floored. They would do this thing! They would fly me to them! 

A wise friend of mine said, "don't break your eggs before they hatch." 

And so, I am doing my best to not flinch and brace myself and build walls because I know they are leaving to go home and I know they won't be able to physically touch me, to curl up in a pile together, link arms with me, stroke me, let me taste and groom them. I know it's coming. They will leave. They will be half a world away from me. Literally. 8,000 miles away. 

But life is pain. Joy ultimately comes with loss, too. There is suffering, but without living, you never get those highs, either, and then what reason do you have to live?

I know I'm foolish for breaking my personal policy. No long distance relationships. They lead to frustration and heartbreak.

But sometimes, even if you know it'll hurt in the end, you have to roll with life. You have to live. You have to reach out and grow and be in the moment. 

For now, I finally got the fuck-knots out of my hair.

He said to me, "well, you can brush it out, but you know I'm just going to knot it all up again." 

I hope they love Ashigeru. I hope he loves them.

But if they like and respect one another, that will still be enough. A 4-way bond is almost unheard of. Sure, it can happen, but so VERY rarely. It would be amazing and magical and the best. But if they are okay with each other, it'll do. 

Time to sleep. I've work to do, tomorrow. And then I've a pair of tall black leather boots to put on. 

We're going to go corrupt Haight Street. 

Think I found a pretty damned ideal potential secondary.
I'm even thick and thieves with his primary already. We instantly got along, like we'd been friends forever.

Of course, they're only visiting, from fucking AUSTRALIA. 

Whyyyyy??? They are only here for 11 more days, and I may be getting the flu.

Played with him 8 years ago, before I met my Master.

We played in Mr S Leather the other night. Flogging in the flogger bay. 

Going to sleep now, hopefully. If I don't come down with the flu tomorrow, I'll be playing in the redwoods!

I'm scared, though, that I'll bond really closely with them both, only to lose them. 

Rambly post here, but bear with me. Skip down to the ***s if you want to get to the important stuff.

So, I've been realizing that I'm really just not very much involved with the "normal" world any more.

I went to a party and was weirded out.

Nobody was naked!

Nobody was screaming or even moaning!

Nobody was chained up or striking anybody with a flogger!

I was at a loss. OK, we can talk about stock options or something, Steven. Hi Karen, how are your rose bushes doing? Gosh, traffic sure is bad these days!

I suppose vanilla parties tend to involve people drinking a lot of booze and grilling shit.

Mind you, I've hosted my share of vanilla parties. Generally they involved excellent food and a lot of conversation about life, the universe, and everything. I haven't hosted a "let's all get drunk" party since my early 20s. Maybe it's not that I'm not at all vanilla. Maybe it's that I'm getting old?

Anyway, turns out I was only kind of right, since there turned out to be a dungeon downstairs. Nobody was using it when I was there, but it was a thing that was there. Nice padded St Andrew's Cross, spanking bench, futon with soft blankets, some floggers laying about. I don't even end up at parties hosted by actual vanilla people, lol!

It was nice to see a bunch of old friends, and I found a bunch of fellow kinksters were there, but I was home before midnight. I really don't drink much at all, except when Master and I crack open a bottle of the mead he brews. I almost never go out and drink. Bars aren't my thing. I don't like the loss of control. I want to be able to escape safely any time I want. I want to be clear-headed, and able to give informed consent- or revoke consent. 

 

***

Sometimes I will go to a private BDSM play party, and there will be booze there. I think, for people who have a high tolerance for alcohol, a small glass of wine or a single beer is probably OK, but for me, I won't even go that far. I want to be stone cold sober, and I want my partner to be, as well. I might take a small amount of painkillers, but only enough to help with my chronic pain, not enough to impair my judgement, or ability to tell if something is harming me. 

Drinking and playing with a new partner is just out of the question for me. I learned about the lifestyle in the 1990s, and in the mixed gender BDSM scene, drinking and playing was a HUGE no. It was different in the gay leather scene, and that's still a problem, but thankfully here in SF we have a movement to change that- there's even a Mr Sober Leather contest, which I think is awesome!

Really, alcohol shatters lives so often. BDSM is very much like driving a car- you could do someone serious harm. You could kill someone. You could get seriously harmed or killed. Don't mix the two. Please.

You can always ask Jay Wiseman about it. He's flown all over the country as an expert witness for BDSM-related deaths. These are murder trials, even though they are mostly accidental deaths, and a lot of them DO end in manslaughter charges, even murder charges. Whether or not you like Jay, you should hear some of his stories.

Recently he told me about one where a really drunk person was fisted so roughly they started bleeding. Too drunk to know when to tell the person to stop. Too out of it, too numb, hardly even conscious. Alcohol makes you bleed a lot more, too. They BLED TO DEATH. 

DON'T PLAY IMPAIRED, PEOPLE. It is not worth it. If you can only make yourself play if you aren't sober, YOU ARE NOT READY TO PLAY. 

I was gonna get off and go to bed but the internet distracted me so I am sitting here naked in my socks and slippers watching family feud videos. Mmm yeah sexy sexy Ev. Hah. 

"I miss the hell out of you, beloved. I wish I could see you."

"Soon, I hope," he texts back with his bleeding fingers, nails ripped off or rotting away.

"Soon." 

It has been months since I have looked into his eyes. Months since I have heard his voice. Was it October? Or maybe it was September. I think it was September.

I was so overjoyed on that day, to see him, just for a moment. A minute, maybe two, at most. 

I felt as though he had returned from the dead, as though I had one last chance to tell him I loved him. Even though he never did say it back. not once.

All the anger, the confused feelings, the betrayal, the fear, it all vanished because he was THERE and he was ALIVE and I could TOUCH him and SMELL him and feel those once-powerful ARMS wrapped around me. One last time.

Because I could never sure there would be another time.

I want to beg, and cry, and scream, "there is no SOON! There is only NOW! You are DYING. You're dying. And you've shut me out. Why. Why have you pushed me away. Was everything we went through just a bit of fun for you? All that I suffered. All that I sacrificed. All the ways I pushed myself, all the times you pushed me. All the times I pushed you. The tears, the screaming, the moments of tenderness. All of it. The scars I carry in my heart. Why have you pushed me away?"

But he would only rage, he would rage and he is too sick and tired to rage, now. He would cut me out even more. And I know it. 

It was never healthy. It was deeply wounding. But it made me strong. So goddamned strong. And at the end of it all, while I cannot make excuses for some of the things that he did, I can understand why he did them. The moments, the steps, that lead him to that life. To thinking his way was the only way. I cannot excuse it, but I still feel compassion for the creature he became. I still love him, because even as twisted and sick as things often were, he had goodness in him, too. He had parts that were worthy of love. And he was learning. He was LEARNING. 

But we lost that chance. That chance to do better. To learn a different way, together. 

And maybe it saved me.

Maybe... once he is gone, maybe a part of myself will let out a breath, long-held, and know that I am safe. I am free. He won't ever be able to hurt me again, in the ways that he did.

But the loss will cut deep, too. I met the tiger outside his cage. I opened myself to the dragon's talons, and in time, that powerful beast who could kill me in seconds, he lowered his head and gave himself to me. I rode that dragon, I lifted us up. He bared his soul to me. Showed me the map of his broken becoming. And he tried to teach me how to survive.

He tried to groom me to become a predator, like him.

But I chose a different way. I chose, not to be a victim. Not to be a monster, either. I chose, not to prey, but to protect. Shield. Nurture. Heal. 

He never had a chance to really see that those choices were possible. He never had a chance. 

I wish I could have shown him the way, so he could walk the path. 

Maybe in his next life, he will. 

As for me, I am wounded but I am grateful. I learned to be so much stronger. I learned to ENDURE. I would never, ever, EVER want anyone to learn the way I did. But I made it. I survived, and I found my will. I made a choice- never again. Never again. Never again.

I will not be the dragon of despair. I will not be the dragon of manipulation, lies, suffering, fear, pain.

I will be the dragon of compassion. I will be the dragon who heals, who loves, who brings joy, growth, protection, wisdom, gods willing, and light.

He helped me to become what I am, but I did not become what he had designed.

I could confront him. Bang on his door. Tell him off. Make accusations. 

But he is dying. He is dying, and he is deeply flawed, wounded, but beloved. 

There is no need to punish him. I wouldn't wish what he is suffering on people far worse than he ever was. There is no need for vengeance. Only peace. Only mercy.

So mercy is what I hope for. I hope that I will have a chance to say goodbye. To take that massive head in my arms, to kiss that great brow. To tell him that it will be ok. I will heal. And I have grown strong. So very strong. To tell him that I will fight to live a little longer, myself. 

I learned so much from him. So much of it was not what he intended, but I can still use it to help myself. To help others. I know the signs now. I know what to watch out for. I know what to say no to. What to never make excuses for again.

And I know how to endure. 

I loved the beast. The beast was true to his nature. But I survived him. Survived, and even conquered, without becoming him. 

And now, now he is a dying man. He doesn't want anyone to see that man, beneath the beast. The suffering, the weakness, the fear. I see him though. The secret is that I have always seen him. He never had to hide from me.

Dying without me is his choice. I must respect that. Consent should be freely given, and freely denied.

Another lesson he never quite learned. Consent was something to manipulate and force in his world. That was the game.

But I am not him. I am not him, and so, soon may very well never come.

And so I see him as already dead now, half the time. Maybe he intended it this way. Maybe he thought it would make it easier for me to let go. Maybe he'll come to life for me again, maybe not. 

I was always his secret. I might only find out from Facebook, or perhaps a text message. It isn't right or fair, but it is what it is. 

He will always be there, in my heart. I will carry with me the best of who he was, and the lessons I learned, from his failures and mine. In time, the wounds will heal. I will trust again. I will be hurt again, but I'll SURVIVE.

I'll survive, and I'll miss him.

Soon. 

I've been busy, lately.

Work has really picked up. Physically, I'm exhausted and in pain a lot, but I have a bit more money now. Yay!

I've been having some really hot scenes with my Master. Last night it was knives, a rose-thorn cane, claws, and an inflatible toy. He used a cock sheath on me, too. Or was that the night before? Damn, but I love that man. I am so happy, so blessed to have him as my Master.

A dom I played with just before I met Master will be in town at the very end of the month. He wants to play. The last time, it was so fucking intense, all in good ways, when we played. I'll be meeting his primary, too.

He's spoken of moving here before, and has again, but we will see if that happens. 

I hope that the best thing possible happens here. I need this year to be good. So much suffering last year. So much grief. More grief coming this year. 

Let there be joy, as well. 

More joy. Master is a great joy. So are the lobster tails he bought for me while I was at work today. Like, 5 or 6 of them for $30, OMG yessss. And he doesn't like lobster. He bought it just because I love it. I told him I might actually manage to eat all the tails in one sitting. He said he was totally fine with that.

Gawwwwwwwwwww*drools*

I could get used to this. 

I'm really glad I've been able to contribute more to the household. Make life better for both of us. Even get some luxuries, once in a while. 

On top of overcoming the bystander effect, I have a second resolution for this coming year:

DON'T IGNORE RED FLAGS. Don't make excuses for them. Don't pretend they don't matter. They do. I am too valuable to sacrifice myself for the pleasure of others who would harm me.