Kink it out!

For all of you Fetlife users, they are holding a giveaway on they're website. You should check it out.

Geekdom

Lately I've really been into this webcomic, called Megatokyo. It's about two gamer/anime geeks that end up getting drunk and going to Japan, maxing out their credit cards in the process. It's about them living and working and trying to earn enough money to get home again. I'm rather fond if it anyway, and thought I'd pass it along. Enjoy!

Oh, and Aimee and I are very excited about Diablo 3, we can't find a release date for it, maybe it's still in production, but we are thrilled. I also bought a duel Super Nintendo/NES console today, because I love my old-school games. I should see if I can find my old Nintendo gun, I have Duck Hunt and that game is the shiz.

MY BANANA!

As you can probably tell by now, I don't feel particularly obligated to to this blog, but I feel bad when I don't post for months at a time. Frankly I'll be amazed if my stats go up after I post this. I just got in from a walk, and I feel the overwhelming need to go and take a shower, because I am a sweaty dirty girl, and not in the good way. But here I am, posting, wondering if my stories are still fresh in my memory. I guess I should start with the banana.

It was saturday night at tesfest, and I was told to go to the main dungeon at 10:20 with a banana. I had no idea what was going to happen, or why it was going to happen. I just went. This had been set up earlier in the day, and several people got me several different bananas. But I chose the one that I wanted to be mine, and a key detail here is that Brian was with me when I chose said banana.

So I get to the dungeon, and I'm wandering around, and I bump into Marilyn and several other CV people, and Marilyn keeps trying to take my banana away from me. After a few more minutes, Brian comes over to us. "Brian," I say. "Tell them to stop trying to take away my banana, it's mine, you were with me when I chose it." Ignoring me, he told me the rules of the game. "All you have to do is keep the banana from getting away from you. If you lose the banana, there will be terrible consequences," he had said. "Oh," I managed to say before five people pounced on me. Ripping off my overalls and bikini top, they lifted me up off the floor, four people holding up my legs, and Brian holding the rest of me up by my hair (I was not a happy camper). "You gonna give us the banana?" Someone said. "No! My banana!" I screamed back as they carried me to the far side of the room.

I was told later that I topped the dungeon that night, and frankly, I believe it. I screamed and yelled and berated them. And slowly as they struck me and bit me, I began to form a plan in my mind. The plan was simple: Get my clothes, and get to the hotel room, even if it means streaking the entire hotel. A deadbolt would hold them off for a while. I hung tight onto my banana, at one point placing a firm complaint and disallowed biting for the rest of the scene (biting makes me violently angry). I had a goal in mind, but getting away from everyone with the banana proved to be more difficult that I had hoped. Because Dov showed up, and with Dov comes rope, and he and another member of my beat down started tying me up. It's hard getting the leverage you need to get someone off of you when you have at least 4 other people hitting you.

Mind you, people are still trying to convince me to give them the banana, and I'm still screaming "No! My banana!"

Well, at one point another banana makes it's way onto the scene (pun not originally intended, but it is now that I think about it). "Are you sure you have the right banana? Maybe this banana is the right banana," Brian said. "But this is my banana, you were with me when I chose it, Aaron gave it to me, remember?" I replied. "But how do you know that's the real banana? Maybe you have it wrong, maybe this banana is your banana," He said. He confused me for a minute, so I did the only thing I could think of; I took the banana. I now had two bananas instead of one. Well I'll tell you this; it's alot easier holding onto one of them then 2 of them. People kept merrily hitting me until one of them remembered that I sang. "Hey, we should have music, sing something," Marilyn said. I floundered for a moment, and then I figured I had nothing to lose; I launched head long into Mimi's aria "Mi Chiamano Mimi" from Puccini's opera 'La Boheme'. I got about half way through it before someone hit me and I lost my breath and gave up. But my singing had attracted alot of attention from people including the Baroness herself.

"Why don't you give give me one of your bananas?" She asked, "I'll keep it safe". Just then someone hit me, causing me to drop the second banana, and a cry of victory arose from my tops. The Baroness took the banana and I guess she must've wandered off. Although someone mentioned she was going to the pool area for the pool party.

"Come on, give up your banana, you must be exhausted by now," Brian crooned. "No," I said stubbornly. "My banana." At one point my captors let up their guard, because I managed to break free. I was tied up in a sitting position with my legs bent and the rope reached around my hips. I couldn't really move very effectively, but I did make it about five feet by scooching myself along, not unlike a dog dragging it's patoot on the carpet.

I almost managed to pass a friend of mine who was playing before I was dragged back to the spot. Still holding the banana, which by now was bruised and squishy in my hands. The lot of them pushed me onto my back again and starting beating on me. A couple that I'm friends with showed up, and the boy in that couple is German. Well, I'm German by half, so I called out to him "Come on, we're both German, help me out here. Ich bin ein Berliner!" I called out, laughing at my joke. "Yes!" Everyone crowed back. "You are a donut!" "Exactly!" I laughed.

I don't quite know when the beating shifted, but everyone started punching me to the theme of the Imperial March, from the original Star Wars movies. And I had trouble drawing breath, I started to panic and hyperventilate. I began crying hysterically, screaming that I couldn't breath. After they let up, I continued to cry harsh tears.

When I finally calmed down I wandered, and actually threw out my banana, thinking that the scene was over. Foolish me. Scenes are apparently never over at events; at least not for me. Eventually Brian cornered me and slammed me into a wall, holding a knife to my throat. "Where's your banana?" He asked, dead serious. "I threw it out, I thought the scene was over," I replied, suddenly unsure of myself. "Well you have to go to the Baroness and get the other one," he said. "I can't," I said, suddenly feeling as small as a field mouse. "What do you mean you can't?" He asked. "I just can't," I said stubbornly, feeling the subtle onset of an anxiety attack. "Is this an anxiety thing? Or for some other reason?" He asked. "Anxiety," I said quietly. "Okay, then I'll go with you," he said. And I got up and put my clothes on, and we tromped over to the pool area together. We waited for her to show up, and when she did, we requested our banana back.

Brian left me with her to collect our wayward fruit, and left back for the dungeon. I stood there nervously while she collected the fruit, and then she and her cohorts went into the bathroom. They cut the banana into pieces and wrote a note, which I still have tucked away in my bedroom mirror (I keep meaning to put it in my scrap book). I retrieved our now maimed fruit, and returned to the dungeon. Apparently that was the end of the scene, because Brian really didn't know what to do with it, so I found someone who wanted it, and left it at that.

The next day people kept giving me bananas. I stuck them in my back right pocket, after all, who needs the hankie code when you can flag fruit? I didn't eat much that weekend because of my nerves, but whenever I was overcome with hunger, I could just reach into my back pocket and pull out a banana.

Rush

Author's Note: This post is about waterboarding, something that's been something of a news item lately. I demo-bottomed doing this at Floating World to a good friend of mine whom I trust (you may have read about it in the Star Ledger). We both talked about it a great deal in advance and he answered all of my questions to my satisfaction before I consented to doing this. So there you have it; we both consented.

----------

Fear and terror are two completely different things. I learned that that day. Fear is hot, fear, to me, is getting fucked while there's a rope tied around my throat, or being told that if I don't do what I'm told, when I'm told, that my top is going to rip out a toenail with a pair of pliers. Fear is hot, and a little intimidating, and uncertain. But terror, for me, is believing in every fiber of my being that I am going to die, in that really horrible this-is-not-a-drill kind of way.

The people that are debating whether or not waterboarding is torture or not have clearly never been waterboarded. It's torture. Pure and simple. I was convinced that I was going to die. I'm told that it's done to create the illusion of drowning, I disagree. There is no illusion; I was drowning and nothing can convince me otherwise. I recognize that what I did was very tame compared to whats going on in some parts of the world. But what I did was enough to get me thinking. Because right now, I am of the opinion that the illusion lies only within in the theory of waterboarding, and only in the theory. In reality, there is no illusion. You are drowning.

The demo started with Ward, my friend who was teaching the class, talking about different things and answering some questions. Much to the amusement of the audience, I took a sip of water from the bottle that was about to be used on me. Four people were restraining me, one of whom was my friend Marilyn. Then he pushed the wash cloth into my mouth, but I started gagging so he took it out and got it wet before pushing it back in, only not so deep. It took me a minute to get acclimated to it.

At first as he started sprinkling water on me I started to laugh, those sibilant notes that are so synonymous with me and play. Moisture formed in the back of my throat but most of the water went up my nose. I tried to inhale and found only water, like I had accidentally inhaled while swimming under water in a pool. I tried to push against the people holding me down, but found I couldn't move, which made me panic even more. I'm told that my eyes were darting around rapidly under my eyelids. It felt like water had flooded my throat, and I couldn't get a breath in. Before starting Ward had told them to let me go immediately when he gave the signal. He waved his hand and I was released. I rose up from the table so that I was leaning on my elbows while he pulled out the wash cloth. I coughed and gasped for air. I was angry and terror-stricken. Ward went on to say that it was intended to create the illusion of drowning. "Fuck you, I was drowning," I exclaimed, feeling upset and exposed.

After the class ended and people filed away I felt the full force of the chemicals that had been produced hit me; raw adrenaline and endorphins rushed into my system. I hugged Ward tight, frightened and wide-eyed. We went to a diner, but both of us barely ate. I felt physically ill, and I was upset and felt exposed and vulnerable. When we got back to the room I took a hot shower in the dark which helped a little bit and then I went and crawled back into bed and clung close.

Getting over that rush of chemicals took me a long time; every time I seemed to make some progress I would just crash back into feeling miserable all over again. I did finally manage to eat something that night, some of my famous mac & cheese and one of the brownies I had baked for the weekend. But it took me a few days to get over the full effects of what had been released into my system as a result.

I don't know if this is something that I would do again. I'm certainly not angry or upset with Ward or any of the people who were restraining me. I consented to doing that, and I own that fact. But the effects out lasted everything else, and I find the effects to be really rather disagreeable. And if I'm slammed from chemicals which make me feel horrible one or two days later, then is it really worth it for a scene that only lasts, at the very most, and this is really really pushing it, 15 seconds? Probably not.

Sigh. I don't know what else to say here. Except that I had an experience that no one I know, to my knowledge, has ever had. And I wish that I could tell someone who has a bigger voice than I do in the world what that felt like. On the tame level that I experienced that, it was easily one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I can't imagine what those men are facing in places where these practices are occurring on a far more intense and overwhelming level. But I write a sex blog, sporadically at that, and it's very unlikely that anyone will hear my quiet little voice, telling the story about the time I got waterboarded.

Floating World

UPDATES ARE COMING!

But right now I am floored from event crash.

Highlights you say? But of course!

• Getting hypnotized for the first time: It was awesome, and I almost fell asleep afterwards. I forgot the number 7!
  
• Getting water-boarded for the first time: Still processing that one
  
• Interrogation scene: It's not as hot as people make it sound, it's mean and dirty and cruel. I did it for the first time yesterday, and I'll say it, I would totally do that again.
  
• Beat down: I was screaming, literally screaming at the top of my lungs and crying hysterically, I don't know why I wanted to stop playing, I totally could have kept going. I was no where near my limit. My ass is a really nice shade of purple though.
  
• Seeing friends I haven't seen in a while and catching up with everyone.
• Spending lots of time with the person that I went to the event with.

I'm home now, about to put my hair up in a towel since I'm fresh from my shower, and I'm gonna go veg out on the sofa. Ciao!

Friends of Jefferon Legal Defense Fund

An important member of the sex-positive community 
urgently needs our help.

Jefferson—blogger, educator, and friend to so many of us—is at this moment fighting a court battle with his ex-wife, who is seeking full custody of their three children. 

Jefferson's love for his children has been well-documented on his blog One Life, Take Two for years. His ex-wife has stated in court that he is a "great" father who loves his children. 

However, among her claims is that his
bisexuality makes him an unfit parent.

Jefferson needs our help now. As a writer, his resources are limited. The costs of fighting this case are mounting quickly—and will certainly run into the tens of thousands of dollars.

As of today, there is an urgent and immediate need for at least $20,000 to cover costs associated with attorney fees and those of the law guardian who has been appointed to represent the children.

If he is unable to pay these fees by August 11, he will be forced to relinquish custody of his children.

This case is of concern to anyone whose sexuality does not fit the standard mold—because it could happen to you. This case is of concern to all writers, because Jefferson’s blog is being used as evidence against him—and that could have repercussions for our First Amendment rights.

Here’s how to help:

Make an ANONYMOUS, TAX-DEDUCTIBLE contribution to Jefferson’s legal defense by visiting the Sexual Freedom Defense and Education Fund at:

www.sfldef.org

There you will find out how to donate to Jefferson’s Defense Fund via PayPal or if you prefer, check or money order.

Please note that you MUST mention that your donation is to be used for the JEFFERSON LEGAL DEFENSE FUND.

In the coming days, www.onelifetaketwo.com will be relaunched with information about Jefferson's ongoing case. Be sure to visit his blog for updates. In the meantime, you can contact Jefferson directly at friendsofjefferson@gmail.com.

Thanks very much for your time and concern.

Feel free to copy this and post it to your blog or LJ or any email lists.  Or link here.

Happy birthday!

My blog is one year old today. And I recently turned 1 year older. It's been a blast and I've met all kinds of wonderful people and had all kinds of wonderful experiences, and now I'm going to get some sleep, g'night everybody!

Would you? Will you? Just remember.

Author's note: This post has been knocking around in my head for a while; I've been looking for a job for a while now, and not having much luck. This post is a result of going on interviews and looking for something while covering up the bruises and scars under my work-type clothes and hoping for the best.

If I showed up in your office for a job interview, would it scare you to know that I had bruises under my clothes? Would it scare you that I had gotten set on fire the day before? Cut with a knife? Electrocuted?

Would it repulse you to know that I came into your office with bruises behind my ears from pressure points? That mere hours ago I was slammed up against a wall with a hand on my throat being called a tramp and a whore? That I had been tied up and spit on? That I cried like a little girl while I got fucked? That I had never been more wet?

Would you give me a job knowing that afterwork, after I've filed papers and answered phones and designed art work for your company, I'm going to get on a subway train, and go to a friends house, and do it all over again?

And if you gave me that job, aside from my being qualified and capable, would it also be because of what you know about me, would you do it because you felt sorry for me? Because you envied me on some level? Because it makes you hot? Do you think I will let you call me into your office and allow you to do things to me you're embarrassed to admit to fantasizing about?

Well then, I'd have to tell you that I'm a lady, that I won't let you bend me over your desk while you lift up my skirt and spank me, I won't let you try to intimidate me either, or call me a whore or a little slut. I am very professional, and while my bruises come with me to work, my life style does not.

But what I want to know is that if you give me a job, knowing what you know about me, would you sit at your desk, fantasizing about doing those tantalizing things to do to me? Or maybe you dream about me doing them to you, binding you to your chair and wrapping duct tape about your mouth, pissing on you and call you a whore and baggage, and slapping you across the face? Or maybe, just maybe, you won't judge me, or feel sorry for me, maybe, just maybe, I'll intrigue you. And you'll do a little homework while your sitting at home on your computer in the dead of night, and you'll go to a class at an organization, or you'll go to a party where people do exactly what I do, publically and openly with one another. And maybe you find that you like watching, you like partaking in these gloriously painful acts. But now what?

Will you still judge me? Will you feel sorry for me? Will I turn you on? Or will I frighten or intimidate you? Knowing what you know, would you fire me? Or would you let me keep my job, never venturing outside of your comfort zone, watching me come into work day by day, week by week, until they fade into years? Curious about what causes me to move more slowly some mondays than others?

I don't know what you will do, that's something you have to figure out for yourself. Just remember when you're thinking about how I got those scars on my breasts, those shiny scars that look suspiciously like burns, remember that I still have to pay my rent, and put food on the table and clothes on my back. Remember that I am a good person who is never late to work, and is good at what she does. Remember that my masochism is a part of what I am, and that that fact does not completely define who I am; that I am so much more than just a person who likes to be hurt.

And if it's something that you cannot or will not accept, then please remember that you always have the power to grow, to become a bigger and better person. But also remember that no one can do that but you.

Kinklets trip cancelled

This made me sad. . . .

Due to some unforeseen circumstances, Monet and I have to cancel the trip to Six Flags Hurricane Harbor for this Saturday, July 19. We apologize for any inconvenience. We are planning an alternative trip for this month, and put the information out there as soon as we know what's what. Thanks again, and sorry for the inconvenience.

TESFest Recap

Aaaah!!!!! This is the part where I scream alot and rip my hair out because I am at home. People are encouraging me to write about TESFest, so here is my little recap before I go wander off and take a walk.

• I got fucked by a knife for the first time and had a screaming orgasm that lasted for about two minutes.
• I had a massive take-down scene that involved a banana. I sang an aria from 'La Boheme' during this scene.
• I topped myself on Sunday with a TENS unit on my thighs. And the TENS unit came home with me on loan. I also had a massive orgasm when the TENS was on my thighs and spent the next four hours having spontaneous involuntary orgasms.
• I demo bottomed in Boymeat's electricity and it was great fun and the audience was awesome!
• I got to spend time with my really good friend Liz who I almost never get to see.
• I had a really bad freak-out Sunday night, and spent the rest of the evening hanging out with Liz. We went to the Little's story hour, and then we went to the TNG swim.
• I met Liz's leather family, and got choked out and almost went under by one of her family members about five minutes after meeting him. We played later on that night.
• I got my period!!!!! Not that there's anything particularly sexy about that, I just think it's funny I got my period at a BDSM event.

So that's it for now, I'm sure that there's more I could write about and I will later on. I'm also probably going to Floating World this summer, I'm working on the details, but here's hoping!

I know where I'm going. . .

I'm back from TES Fest, had a grand ol' time and lots of play and time spent with friends, but I'll write about it later, because this is coming up real soon, and people should come, below is the information:

Hey TNG-ers!!! For our next trip we are planning a trip to Six Flags Hurricane Harbor on on Saturday, July 19th for TNG-ers and their guests! And we would love it if ya'll could join us! Monet and I will be taking the bus from Port Authority Bus Terminal, it leaves from Gate 324 at 9:30 in the morning, and leaves the park at 9:30 at night. The total package for bus fair and admittance to Hurricane Harbor is $50.00, you can buy food for yourself at the park, or bring a meal with you. You are also welcome to drive out if you have a car and meet us there. We will be standing at the gate with our TNG sign. We will be meeting at 9am, and the bus, again, departs at 9:30am. We are looking forward to seeing all a ya'll there, and we hope you can join us!!!!

Vacation

I am leaving tomorrow for the City to spend a night with a friend of mine, and we are driving out the next day to TES Fest together. It's my vacation for the year, so this blog will be (intentionally) quiet over the 4th of July weekend, and for several days afterwards as I collect myself and deal with my event crash. I'll be lying low this weekend under the guise of my real name, but if you figure out who I am, don't be afraid to wander over and say 'hi'. Well I'm off to get dressed and get my yearly pedicure. Have a happy July 4th for those of you who celebrate, otherwise have a grand old time doing whatever y'all are up to this weekend. Ciao!

10,000

I got 10,000 hits!

The Comprehensive Folsom Street East Post!

Folsom is one of my favorite days of the year. It's like a second Christmas. It's the one leather event where I feel completely comfortable walking about in my bra on my own. I helped whore out Kinklets, and Boymeat single-tailed me behind the TES table. And pinched and punched and bit me, and we made out between rounds in a way that I haven't made out with anyone in a long time. It was really really nice. Yeah, I can't stress how much I love Folsom.

I saw tons of people I don't normally get to see, and I even ran into Jefferson and a friend of his. Lolita took our picture, but I can't post it here, 'cause it's got our faces in it. But in it, I am wearing my lucky purple Folsom bra (and part of my nipple is popping out), I wore it to Folsom last year and I got beat up, and I wore it again this year, and the same thing happened. So it's my lucky Folsom bra. You may have seen me walking about in it, I had a Kinklets flyer tucked in between my tits.

My friend and I firmed up our plans, because she is being uber-wonderful and giving me a ride to TES Fest. And then I bounced around for a while. It started raining at one point, and I stood out in my bra, because I didn't want my shirt to get wet, since I still had the train ride and the walk home ahead of me.

Terra was poking fun of me at one point, and I gave the best come-back I have had in a long time. "Up your nose with a rubber hose!" And then I burst out laughing and leaned back to smack Jefferson on the knee. "I just made a 'Welcome Back Kotter' insult, I am completely on top of my game today," I exclaimed. "You go girl," he said back with a smile. Not many people get those references, but when they do, I swoon. 'Cause I'm a geek like that. (Nevermind that my sociology teacher back in college asked who a famous Puerto Rican Jew was, and without really thinking I responded with 'Juan Epstein'. Only one person got the joke).

I saw two people that I know in my vanilla life, one of them I said hello to out of pure shock, and the other one I ducked behind someone when I saw him. He was dressed in full leathers with the exception of his shirt, which was for a fetish event. Every time I see him now, I'm going to picture him in his leather cap. I saw both of them within 15 minutes of each other, and nearly had a coronary right there on the street.

When I was walking back to the TES table at one point, I ran across a guy in a blue latex wresters suit flexing his pec muscles. I told him I used to be able to do that, and he turned to me and said "well can you do this?" and started rolling his stomach muscles. "Honey, I belly dance, of course I can do that!" I replied, and did it in kind and even put in a little bit of hip, and then I added a few Ohmis and a couple figure eight shimmies (it has a Middle Eastern name that I don't know how to spell), and some Turkish flat steps, and his boyfriend and this chick were laughing while we did this, and then I excused myself to skip off and talk to the Gay Men's Chorus about joining. So I now have something to think about and work on.

I left a little bit after it had started raining. I had gone on the Kinklet's trip to the aquarium on Saturday, and spent the night in the City, so I was pretty exhausted by the time that evening rolled around. I got on the train, and crashed. I read my book and listened to music and became really really anti-social. I was starving by the time my train rolled into the station, so I was going to go to the market and get some food (ironically an Eden's gourmet market opened up in the next town over where I catch the train), so I went in there, and got some food. I tuned into my music and schlepped on home to a shower and a nice warm meal.

Folsom totally rocked this year.

This is how it started

And then snowballed.

I was 5 years old. I didn't have very many friends growing up, in fact I was pretty much a loner up until high school. I had one or two friends, but I didn't meet them until the first or second grade. Anyway, in my elementary school when I first started there wasn't a cafeteria, that was installed later on, when I was about 8 or 9. So we had these portables where the food was served. They were placed with their backs to the fence about five or six feet away in the school yard. I remember going back behind the portables and playing by myself. Secretly I wanted someone to come back there, one of the bigger kids and do something horrible to me. I didn't know what, and they weren't particularly sexual thoughts, but I thrilled at them all the same.

I desperately wanted someone to do something horrible to me behind those portables, and in a way, I'm still waiting for the older kid to come and do those horrible things to my Little self behind those make-shift buildings.

There's a little more to the story, like how I thrilled at being the robber when we played 'cops and robbers' in the wintertime (which is when we played it). I loved getting caught being forced to relinquish control, pretending to get shot and then "dying" in a snow bank. And then when I was 14 and Jaqueline Carey came out with her Kushiel books (my first intro to S&M) and me thinking about how hot it was. The puzzle pieces slowly clicked into place about my masochism that summer. The rest came later, the following summer when I was 15 and got tied up for the first time. So that's my little story, a quick little post, just because I can.

Tesfest

I will be at TESFest this summer, going under the mysterious guise of my real name. But if I happen to meet you there, or recognize your blog name on your little tag thingie, you might just get to find out who the mysterious woman behind all of the sex and veils really is. So yeah, if your going, I'll be seeing ya'll there!

Pumpkin

The world was silent.

It was as though the City had gone to sleep, and the only ones awake in the night were Adit and myself. I laid in his bed, which seemed impossibly high up off the ground. My nerves sang in a chorus as tension rippled through my body.

Our conversations and desires had brought us to this night, to the decision to do this with each other. Our leanings towards giving our friendship a twist, but staying friends all the same, something we both felt was important. And then, after a couple weeks of talking and texting, I found myself back in his bed. Still a friend and an equal, somewhere in that time, I had become the little girl to his daddy.

So there I laid in his bed, nervous and scared, the darkness was almost oppressive, like it was keeping it's own council on what it was about to lay witness to. Adit caressed my face and shoulder and breasts, laying himself down next to me and wrapping one arm around me. "Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?" He asked. "Because I want to play a special game with you, but remember, this is a secret, you can never tell anyone that we're playing this game. Do you understand?" I nodded mutely in the dark as he slipped his hand down into the silky folds between my thighs and began kneading my clit.

The tension mounted in my chest before it began to break up inside of me like waves on a beach. I buried my face against his chest. "Now Pumpkin," he said. "I want you to touch your special place, show Daddy what you like." I tentatively reached my hand down and grazed my fingertips against my clit. "There's a good girl," he said softly in the dark before his hand replaced my own.

He began rubbing his fingers against my clit, making me gasp and moan. "Daddy," I said softly. "It feels funny." "I know it does, it's supposed to, and if you do this enough, it will feel good all over, don't you want that sweety?" He asked. "Yes Daddy," I said softly. His fingers flicked over my clit, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. "Oh, oh Daddy," I breathed softly into his chest. "Yes, come for me, come for your Daddy little girl," he breathed into my hair.

As the tension rose within me, something in me began to give way, and I slipped into Little space. I came, gasping and moaning against his hand, holding him against my sex as my hips bucked against his hand. When I finished, Adit stroked my hair and told me what a good girl I was before climbing up to kneel between my thighs. I watched him roll on a condom in the dark, while he spoke. "Now it's time for Daddy to feel good, don't you want that? For Daddy to feel good?" "Yes Daddy," I said softly. He pressed up inside of me and began thrusting into me. "Now remember, you can never tell anyone that you play these special games with Daddy, do you understand?" He asked in the darkness. A ball of wariness had settled into my stomach. "Yes Daddy," I said softly. "Such a good little girl," he breathed as he began to move faster. After a few moments of silence, he came long and hard.

He pulled out and laid down next to me. "Daddy, do other daddies play these games with their little girls?" I had asked, gazing up at the dark ceiling. "Some daddies play these games with their little girls, but only because they are special, and you must never tell anyone that we play these games because some little girls don't play these games with their daddies, and you don't want them to be sad, do you?" Adit had asked me. "No Daddy, I don't want that," I said softly.

After a few moments, I lifted my head and looked over at him. "Adit, is there something wrong with us for doing this?" I asked seriously. "No Eden, there isn't. I've spent alot of time studying sexuality, and what we did is good and beautiful. We're both consenting adults, neither of us have any interest in doing anything like that with a family member, especially an actual child. That's disgusting. This is role playing, it's different, it's okay to do this because it's not real, do you understand?" I nodded quietly, then realized he couldn't see me. "I'm nodding," I told him.

The next day I kissed Adit, and left for the City where I met up with Terra. I told her what had happened the previous night, and as I did, I began freaking out. "How did you handle this?!" I had asked desperately.

"Oh I spent a good weekend just lying in Conor's bed, I didn't really eat, just laid there. He took it just as hard as I did, he did it for me, not realizing that he would actually like it," she explained. "You're only in part 1 of your freak out though, and you'll feel like this for a good long time. And then it will come easily to you, and that will fuck with you also." "You mean there's more?" I moaned, munching on my chicken. "Yup. Pretty soon you'll be calling him 'daddy' in public without a second thought. 'Candy Land' will never be the same again. And if he's anything like my daddy, he'll make you show where you like to be touched on your teddy bear," she said matter-of-factly. "But I've had my teddy bear since I was a babe-in-arms, I can't do that!" I squealed. "I had mine since I was 4, and I did it," she said. "He's even saying that I'm gonna have to wear white underwear for him at some point, I can't do that," I said indignantly. "Next thing you know I'm gonna be wearing ruffled socks and licking one of those huge lolli-pops. This is too surreal Terra, I can't be doing this. And what makes it worse is that I liked it. I really liked it."

"You've been talking about this for a year and a half, and you finally got what you wanted. You know you're gonna do it again, don't you?" She had asked. "Yeah, I know I'm gonna do it again. And what's really gonna mess with me is that I'm gonna keep on liking it. And then the day will come when I'll be used to it. And that, well, I'll deal with that when the time comes. One step at a time, right?"

I continued to freak out over the next couple days, hiding in my nest and watching horror movies to distract me from dealing with the emotions churning inside of me until I found myself asking myself what was wrong with me. Why did I want this, why did I like it. I pushed my back up against the wall, murmuring 'no no no' over and over again. Feeling scared and alone, I texted Adit who called me several minutes later. I was upset and began yelling at him for being so calm in the face of this. I was angry that he seemed oblivious as to why I was upset. The poor dear deserves better than me sometimes, but most of the time I'm pretty good. He asked me calmly not to yell at him, and to explain to him what was wrong.

"We're role-playing incest!" I had wailed. "Incest is wrong and dirty and disgusting, what is wrong with me?! I shouldn't like this, I can't like this, I'm not a sick person! I'm sane and healthy, I'm not like those disgusting perverts who hang out in play grounds watching children! I have normal healthy desires, what is wrong with me?!" "Nothing is wrong, it's role playing, those are the key words, it's not real. Do you really think that I would be interested in my daughter? Or any child or family member for that matter?" Adit asked, his logical tone cutting into my panic. "No, of course not," I said crossly. "And I don't think you're interested in doing these things with any one in your family either," he said. "No, I'm not," I said quietly. "We aren't sick people, we are sane and healthy consenting adults role playing this. But it doesn't make us worser people for doing it, and if it really bothers you then we can stop, and we never have to do it again. I know you're frightened by this, it's okay to be, but there's nothing wrong with us for doing this, alright?" He asked. "I just feel awful, because I want to do this again, like, I really want to do this again, but I feel like there's something wrong with me. And I'm having a really hard time owning that," I said, my voice sounded strung out to me from all the anxiety. "There's nothing wrong with you Eden, it's okay to want this. You're safe with me, I'm not gonna let you fall, it's okay," he said. He joked with me a little bit, and I laughed, and we got off the phone a few minutes later with his insistences that I call him no matter what if I had any further problems.

I felt a little better after the phone call, but my emotions still sat in the pit of my stomach, and I worried and wondered about what my next step would be. I'm still not sure what that step is, but I do know I'm seeing Adit soon. I'm wearing my overalls and a t-shirt. I'm learning how to own my new found fetish, it's not easy. It's really fucking hard, actually. But in it's own strange way, it works for me.

Rage

I came to the leather scene when I was 18, two weeks after my 18th birthday, I wandered into my first TES meeting, and never really wandered out. I had the crappy abusive relationship that all guppy subs seem to have to have before they get to the good stuff in the scene. I met people and made friends. I'm very lucky to have met the people I have, to have had the opportunity to make friends within my community. Of course, when I first came to TES, I had no idea that TNG existed. In fact it would be about two years before I was taken to a meeting, where I met Terra, my leather sister and best friend. Ironically the meeting I first went to was run by one of the founders of the TNG movement, but that's another story.

This story, I'm sorry to say, is steeped in rage.

I often tell people that my best friend when dealing with the community is the buddy system. And people laugh, I even laugh, but the truth is I utilize the buddy system because I don't feel safe in my own community. I don't feel that I can go to a party, or any other kind of kinky event alone because I get hit on constantly and obviously by creepy men who have no concept of personal space or finesse. Men who get all up in my junk because at 21, I still look like a 16 year old girl. And you know what? It sucks. It sucks that I don't feel like I can go out and enjoy my own community and feel safe. And I am outraged by this.

I'm not the same girl I was when I came to the scene, in the time that I've been here, I've learned how to stand up for myself. I've evolved into a heavy bottom, and I'm smart about it. I have rules, very strict rules that govern who I play with and how I play with them. I don't deviate from my rules. I had a scene that went bad a while back. I'm not blaming anyone, it's just that I had medical staples in my chest, and we couldn't find the staple remover, so we wound up having to remove them using pliers. It was one of the most painful things I've ever experienced in a scene. I've learned that the most painful things that happen to me during a scene are never intentional. And one of these aforementioned creepy men, who shall remain nameless showed up and was watching this like it was some hot amazing scene. And I looked at him, already in an intense amount of pain and said loudly and firmly that he needed to go away because I couldn't deal with him.

Or at the Pirate Party a while back, I did my first single tail scene. I was whacked out of my gourd on endorphins and adrenaline and feeling more than a little bit fragile. My top had gone to get some water for us, and this man saw me sitting there topless and staring off into space. He came over and actually had the audacity to touch me, I don't even remember what he wanted, all I registered was a threat. I said as loudly as I could "Get your hands off of me!" He backed away quickly, and I was grateful when my top came back.

I'm tired of these men who really need to stop using the same tired old 'Wanna look at my toy bag?' line. I'm tired of having to literally hug the wall on my way to the ladies after a scene, because chances are I'm still naked and probably more than a little bit spacey. It's like those construction workers who constantly hit on women on the streets, catcalling and yelling sexual comments at these women. They never seem to change their tact, they seem to think that eventually it will work in their favor. It's the same thing in the scene, the same sad, pathetic, terrifying approach is used time after time on whoever their target is. You think they'd get the clue.

I've told Terra that I want to teach a Miss Manners class, and she continues to remind me that I will in all likelihood get up there and revert to my Jersey girl nature and spaz out and start ranting for an hour and a half solid at these people about why they can't get anyone to play with them. Us Jersey girls play dirty sometimes, Aimee speculates that it's something in the air that comes to us by way of Refinery Row and the Pulaski Skyway. Personally I've always said that it's something in the water.

But the point is is that this has to stop, I desperately want to be able to go to a party on my own, or maybe meet people there and get there early and not feel obligated to stand outside in the dark street because I would rather take my chances getting mugged than having to deal with people who never learned the concept of personal space.

It seems to me that these behaviors are so common that they are accepted and tolerated by the rest of the scene. Now, I know that my paltry three and a half years doesn't come close to some of my friends' time spent in the scene, so I might be missing some really big piece of the puzzle here, but why is this tolerated? Why are these people just accepted and ignored?

There seems to be a new strain of classes about how to get people to play with you. It seems odd to me that we need classes on common sense things. I think it's idiotic that people need to pay some small fee to be told to act how they would in a vanilla situation. I just want to understand this. I want to work towards a better community for everyone. I can't be the only one who wants this, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who wonders why this is, and tries to figure out how it can be changed.

I don't know, I've only been here for so long. And my so long is really very limited. Maybe I don't know something everyone else does. But if we all know the same things, then why isn't anything being done to change it? My goal here is not to offend, it's to learn, to understand why things are the way they are. It's to help stop people from being hurt, to bring people into our folds instead of turning them away. There are so many wonderful people in our folds. There are wonderful people from age 18 up through 110 and beyond. Truly lovely people who are worth your time and energy and love and trust. They are people who can teach you things, and learn from you as well. I know they can be found, because I found them, they are my friends. But I also know that I had to drag myself through countless leering stares and bad pick-up lines. I had my bad relationship with an abusive man, who I later discovered had a pattern to go with it. I know that I wasn't the only one.

I want things to change so that people can come to our community and see that everyone is worth their time and energy and affections, and that they don't have to sift through the predators and creeps to find the diamonds in the rough. Everyone should be a diamond. There's no reason why it should be a mix of coal and gems. No reason at all.

So why tolerate the predators?

Kinklets TNG

So a couple friends of mine are doing out-reach to TNG-aged people (i.e. people between the ages of 18-35) in the New York City area, as a way of helping to build a stronger BDSM community. You know, a sort of 'we are the future' type thing. They're doing this as a way to bring together all of the TNG aged people in an attempt to bond through vanilla activities. And anyone over the age of 35 can attend as long as they are being brought as a guest by someone of TNG age. Go check out their blog.

Here is the information that they have been sending around every where, you may have seen it:

Hey TNG-ers!!!

Monet and I are TNG-ers and we are planning a trip to the Bronx Zoo on Saturday, May 24th for TNG-ers and their guests! And we would love it if ya'll could join us! We will be meeting at Columbus Circle (west side entrance to Central Park) by the fountain, and taking the #2 train up to the Bronx Zoo. It costs $15 per person for admittance to the zoo, and bring money for food and transportation, or you can bring a bagged lunch!

We will be standing by the fountain, I will be wearing my leather pride shirt, and Monet will be wearing something similar! We will also have a sign with us, so just look for the TNG sign!! We will be meeting at 11:00am, and leaving for the zoo at 12 noon. We are looking forward to seeing all a ya'll there, and we hope you can join us!!!!

HAH!

I am finally satisfied with how my blog finally looks. It is really hard to find a nice, simple, garden themed template. But I finally did it. And now I can finally stop obsessing over the damned thing. I'm also going to get back to blogging, the last couple of months were crazy because I was busy finishing up school. But now I'm a college graduate (go me!), so I can breath a little easier now and work on the back entries of smut I want to write for ya'll. But right now I'm going to go outside and work on my actual garden. I'm growing tomatoes this summer! And that makes me happy.

The Precious

At 4 in the morning, I decided to call it a night. My friend Brian's play party had melted into debates about the existence of instinct from a biological perspective. Which is a really intense conversation to have at 4 in the morning. Marilyn and I climbed into Brian's bed, and curled in on him, wrapping our bodies to his own. Marilyn looked across at me in the dark, and I looked back at her as she began to lick at Brian's nipples, and I followed suit. His moans filled the room as my hand trailed down his chest and pushed aside the waistband on his underwear.

I gripped his cock in my hand and began stroking him, his moans intensifying. I began shedding clothes at some point, my hoodie followed by my shirt until I finally threw off my pants. Brian removed his underwear and my head dissapeared under the covers while he and Marilyn kissed. I licked and sucked at his hard cock while rocking my hand against his perineum. Marilyn joined me a moment later and took over. I came up for air and once again took up my post at his nipples, kissing him intermittently.

We each took our turn in the middle, and when I found myself in the hot seat, Brian and Marilyn went to work on my nipples while Brian fingered my clit, making me gasp and moan. I brought my hands up to grip the headboard as I came.

Marylin took her place in the middle, and Brian got her off while I nibbled on her nipples. Then we pushed Brian onto his back, and Marilyn settled between his thighs while I settled myself over his face. We struggled to sync ourselves up, and when we slid into that sweet spot, I sighed with contentment, Brian moaning and licking beneath me.

"Do we have a condom?" Someone asked. "Shit, I'm out," Brian said in the dark. "I didn't think I'd be getting laid tonight, so I didn't think to get more. Ummm, someone go find one." "I'll go and find one, and by that I mean I'll go look in my bag," Marilyn said, pulling on her skirt and rushing out of the room. Brian and I sat in silence for a few minutes and Marilyn came back in. "I don't have any, should I go ask if someone has one?" She asked. "Yeah, go ask," Brian said, and she left the room again. After a few more minutes she came back in. "I got one, but it's a magnum," she said. "Doesn't matter," I said intensely, aware of the stupidity of my logic as I said it. "It's a condom, we can make it work, we're kinky, we make things work all the time."

"Brian, I don't want to get fucked tonight, you can fuck Eden," Marilyn said. "Then can I go down on you while I'm getting fucked? I haven't had pussy since my birthday, and that was in July." "But I've never done that with a girl, besides, I don't see how it would work," she said. "It's just like with a guy, except I'm a girl. And if you lie on your back in front of me, I can go down on you while Brian fucks me from behind, mmkay?" I said, getting up on all fours. "Oh, okay," she said, settling herself in front of me as Brian rolled on our one precious condom.

I buried my face between her thighs and began licking and sucking while Brian fucked me from behind, slapping my ass and riding my hips. Eventually Marilyn decided she had had enough, and I rolled onto my back while Brian continued fucking me. I gasped and moaned as he fucked me, my muscles contracting around his cock as he thrust up into me. Brian came a few moments later, and collapsed onto the bed next to us.

Eventually we fell asleep in a piled up heap, and slept well into the next morning. It was a lovely party, to say the least.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Some of you may have noticed my. . . . discontent with how my blog looks, I'm working on it, and I'm hoping once I get this image loaded I will finally be satisfied with how it looks. In the meantime, I will be keeping up with the smut as I have much to share with ya'll. So thanks and enjoy!

Breath

It was so quiet. In the very early hours of the morning, when neither of us had found sleep. His party had tapered off into nothing. The world was silent as he slammed me up against a wall. Pushing my pants down over my hips and pulling my shirt off over my head. He grabbed my hair and drove me back against the wall several times, hard.

He pushed me down across his bed. Wrenching me into position with a hand in my hair. He tied my wrists to his headboard, a few moments passed before I felt something hot and liquid land on my bare skin. The wax kissed my breasts and belly as he moved the candle along my body. After a while, I ventured to open my eyes, and I gazed up into his face, the flame lighting his features. I found myself getting lost in his eyes, the intensity of his concentration running like an electric current throughout my body.

Soon he put aside the candle, and kissed me, gently, exploring. His hand ran along my torso, rolling my nipples between his finger tips. His hand slowly, tentatively ran down to the dark thatch of hair between my thighs, pressing up against my clit. His fingers danced, and my breathe quickened. He drew his hand away and took up the knife.

He began to slowly, methodically cut away at the wax from my body. I laid there, gazing up at him; it was as though I was witnessing the rapture. I was aware of the intense silence. As though the world were holding it's breath. When he was satisfied, he untied me, and we laid there, and snuggled up close and talked to one another. In time I gathered myself together and went to find a place to sleep among the bodies in his living room.

Sometime in the hours of the morning, while we slept, the world began to breath again.

FGM

Sorry I haven't been posting, things have been kinda nuts lately. But I'm alive, and giving you this little story to sink your teeth into. Enjoy!

I was in my sociology class a while back, and we were talking about FGM, or Female Genital Mutilation. This is a practice done in some third world African and Middle Eastern countries, and as I understand it, it involves removing the clitoris and labia, and then the genitals are stitched shut leaving only a small opening for urine and menstral blood to pass through, and scar tissue is encouraged to form. This often results in a number of nasty effects. When the girl gets married, the opening is widened to accomodate her husband, and it is widened even further when she gives birth. After she delivers the child, the vagina is stitched shut again, causing more scar tissue to form. Many women die from this, or live very painful and debilitating lives because of it.

So anyway, we were discussing this practice in my sociology class, and one of the students piped up, even had a valley girl tone in her voice, no joke. "Umm, they do that in America too, in like, the BDSM community, yeah, like, women do that for their masters to show their devotion and submission to them." I whipped around and looked at this girl and then whipped back. It took all of my self control not to bitch her out right then and there. Everything I had not to rip her throat out for uttering such stupid and ignorant words.

Now, I understand that the leather community isn't the right group to head the equal-rights-for-alternative-lifestyles movement. The world really isn't ready for us, but we are not that bad. Now, I've heard some horror stories, like the one about some idiot woman pouring hot oil, like, hot cooking oil that was being heated on a stovetop and pouring it on some poor unsuspecting man. People like that are stupid and ignorant and they are the ones who give the scene a bad name. But never have I heard of anyone in the scene, here or anywhere else, chopping away at a woman's genitals like it was a steak. Never ever ever. Now, maybe I'm ignorant, my experiences in the scene are certainly limited to the few years I've been here and the small number of people I've become friends with in that time. I know people who have been in the scene for a lot longer than I have, and they are good kind people who would only hurt a fly if it said 'please', but they would never ever do something so horrible to someone.

So yeah, I was completely caught off guard by this statement, and all I could do was raise my hand and recite a little fact from a medical journal I had read. "Umm, yeah, the last documented case of genital mutilation performed by a doctor was in 1958 on a 5 year old, it was a clitorectomy. Since then any procedure relating to the removal of any part of a healthy woman's genitals has not been performed by anyone with a sane head on their shoulders." I hated that I couldn't rip her to shreds, hated that I had to protect my anonymity.

I called up Terra later on, totally dumbstruck by this girl's idiocy. "Are there kinky people that do this? No one has ever proposed cutting my snatch off in all the time I've been doing this. So I need to know, are there people that do this? Because they need to be stopped. They need to be stopped right now Terra. I'll buy the bus tickets, we'll find these people and slap them." She was just as flabbergasted as I was, neither of us could figure out where this little fact had come from. We finally just let it go into the ether, helpless to change the flow of bad information, lest we pay of the price of exposing ourselves. It really is a pity though.

Replace my face

I am a geek. And as a result, I absolutely love that video game series "Resident Evil". Well, one lazy afternoon my mother was lying on the couch with me while I was playing. She asked me about the game. I made some comment about the zombies eatting my character's face. She then said (in reference to the health items) "oh, so you take that to replace your face."

School, as of late, has been eatting my face. The stress of it all has pushed me to the limit. On Tuesday I have my final panel review that will determine whether or not I will graduate. This, my dear readers, is why I haven't been posting. I've been busy having my face eaten by the mindless zombie that is my portfolio review. My thanks to those of you who have checked back in my absence to see if I have updated. To show my appreciation, here is a George Michael music video. I totally love this song.

George Michael

Faith

One year and a song

It was a year ago today that I showed up at Jefferson's house, desperate to wash the bad feel of a bad break up off of my skin. Jefferson not only helped me cleanse myself, but overtime he grew to be a dear friend. I've made other friends through him, and had experiences that I probably wouldn't have had if it weren't for him. I'm grateful for the things that he has given me, the opportunities and favors offered and given, but much more importantly I'm happy to have had his company and friendship over the last year, so thank you, it's been a hoot and a holler, and I'm looking forward to seeing what the future has in store for us.

Now, I am feeling particularly generous right now seeing as I actually managed to give myself my first orgasm this year all by my lonesome!! I actually had more than one; I lost track around 15. And I was listening to Ingrid Michaelson's song "Far Away" (which put me in such a good mood) while I was doing this when I looked down at my body. And I looked up and said out loud to myself "You know on rare occasions I don't like that I'm female. But I wouldn't give it up for anything; I love being a chick. 'Sides twat's are a hoot."

And then I threw my head back and howled with laughter. Yes my friends, life is good.

Mac & Cheese

It's raining. The rain makes me hornier than a goat. I feel like baaah-ing.

In lieu of smut, I'm going to share a recipe with you that I took from Fanny Farmer, and modified it. Because food and sex are very closely linked with me, and I'm not quite prepared to give away my modified version of chicken marsala, my primo recipe. So anyway, you can put in any kind of cheese and veggies you like, but I'm a pretty straight forward kind of person, and I will give you the foundation here that I work off of, depending on my mood or who I'm cooking for.

Mac & Cheese - serves 4:

9 ounces of macaroni

3/4 cup grated cheese

1/2 cup Italian flavored bread crumbs

2 cups cheese sauce (below)

The Sauce (Makes 2 cups):

2 cups of milk

4 tablespoons of flour

4 tablespoons of butter

salt and pepper

And about 1/2 a block of cheddar cheese. Miss Farmer reccomends 1/2 cup, but it's very bland in my opinion, so I tend to get a little happy with the cheese grater. I'm sure you can over do it on the cheese, but I've yet to reach that point. Lately I've been putting in up to 3/4s of a block, but I wouldn't do anymore than that.

I generally tend to put in enough to make the sauce a nice orange. Like Garfield, a nice Garfield orange. Okay, maybe a little lighter than Garfield, because more cheese gets added later.

Making the sauce: Melt the butter in a sauce pan and add in the flour, when the butter has melted add the milk and stir it constantly while it thickens. Add the cheese. Stir this until the cheese melts and it's to your liking. Add salt and pepper to taste. It's important to keep an eye on the sauce because you don't want the milk or butter to burn.

I like to start the pasta while I'm making the sauce to make things more time efficient. So boil the pasta however long the box says, I think it's about ten minutes, and then drain it and put it into a 1 1/2 quart buttered casserole dish. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Pour the sauce over the top and work it in with a fork or a spoon. Put more grated cheese on top of this, I'm usually pretty generous with my cheese usage, but it's pretty hard to screw up mac and cheese, so do what feels right to you. Then add about 1/2 cup of bread crumbs on top. I like to use the Italian flavored ones, gives it a nice zing.

Bake uncovered for 30 minutes until the top is a nice golden brown and it's bubbling. Let it cool and then you're good to go.