A Guiding Hand
Hey, so, Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it) and happy holidays and such.
I've been spending a lot of time hanging out with family and friends and such and oddly haven't been in the mood for blogging, until now. Being apart for a month can do that to you, I guess.
I'm quite aware that this post is about topping from the bottom. But you can't exactly get a person to start hitting you. You have to start somewhere. I wonder when I'll work up the nerve to ask that first question? We've both very sexual people, but I have a feeling that sex means so many more things to me than it ever will to him.
[via jkrabbit]
Would you like to try pulling my hair?
No, don't pull the tips; everyone does that, and it doesn't feel good. Put your hand here, close to my scalp, and grab a big handful. Feel free to yank; it's okay. Yes, just like that. Hold me against the wall; bite my neck, my shoulders. Can you feel them - my muscles, my pulse - under your teeth? You could be gentle, or bite down hard enough to draw blood - neat, red pinpricks - like this. Don't worry, I'll tell you if it hurts too much.
Hold me up against the wall. Kiss down my body; hold, grab, squeeze my tits; pinch and twist my nipples between your fingers, until I can't keep quiet. My arms are folded behind my back. You didn't ask me to put them there; but it feels right. I'll keep still if you want me to. You're so good to me, so patient with my nonsense; I want to do something for you now; I want to make you feel good. You never ask for much, but that doesn't mean you don't want. I'm learning you more and more as time passes; I notice the hitches in your breathing and the way your voice gets soft and husky with desire, even if the words you say are few.
What would you like me to do for you? Please, tell me. Tell me how you want me. I'll suck your cock, lave you all over with my tongue, soft and slow and not leaving a single part of you untouched. I'll bend over, good and obedient, ass high in the air for you to use; a warm hole for you to come into. I won't move. I won't touch myself. Not unless you want me to. Or you could shove my face into my pillows; hold me down and leisurely touch and tease and explore me until my entire body is thrumming like a wire highly charged with electricity.
We could do all of these things, and more. But, for now, we'll begin with you yanking my hair.
Lessons Learned (2/2)

[via sexisnottheenemy]
Lesson #2: The Optimist
"Well, what are you doing?" you smirk as he insinuates his hand underneath your skirt and pushes hard in between your cheeks.
"This isn't going to work if you top me topping you."
"Right. OK. Sorry. I'll stop."
Blindfold. On your hands and knees. Skirt lifted up. Spank.
"Is this what you want?"
Gulp. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
Cringe. "Yes, sir."
"What exactly is it that you want?"
You can't bring yourself to speak. More spanks.
"...I want to be... dominated by you. Sir."
"I don't think I'm convinced."
You have to say it again? You can't tell whether you feel like growling, hiccuping, cursing, or bursting into giggles.
"I want to be dominated by you, sir." Big grin.
Blindfold off. You're back upright, sitting with your legs folded. He takes your face in his hands. The tough guy act is all gone now.
"Do you really want to do this?"
Pause. "Every time," you respond, "I have to call you 'sir,' I hate myself just a little bit."
"Really?!" He's very sweet about it. Talks about it with you. During the next comfortable silence, you unsnap the collar from around your neck.
"I think this will look better on you," you smile, putting it on him. The black leather does contrast wonderfully with his pale skin.
"...I think I know what I feel like now."
Don't try and make yourself do something when you don't want to do it. Take charge when needed. Above all, do not be afraid, because you've nothing to be afraid of.
"What?"
"Topping you."
"Oh. Good! Because I'm actually more in a bottomy mood."
Giggle. Hug - arms around his shoulders, pulling him to you. "You should have said something... but then that's the trouble with bottoms, you never ask for anything..."
You retrieve the blindfold and place it on him, your fingers clumsily navigating the elastic.
"Lay face down on the bed."
He does. He looks so pretty. Push his plain white T-shirt up, scratch down his back. Admire the pretty pink welts that start to prickle on his skin.
Pants off. Caress his ass, slowly. Indulgently. Spank. No warnings.
The silence folds over you uncomfortably, so you ask him questions. Voice low, almost meditative. You feel yourself slipping into... what? A role? A state of mind? You're not sure. But you ask him questions. You laugh. The only command you issue to him is "say 'yes', not 'mmmhmm.'"
Hands and knees, now. That's better, it's easier to swing your hand this way. Hard spanks, switching from one cheek to the other, flattening your palm. Alternating between smacking him and reaching down, fondling his cock and balls. Pressing your finger against his covered asshole, stroking, listening to him gasp, watching his body tremble.
"Has anyone ever sat on your face before?"
"No..."
"Would you like to try it?"
"Yes."
Pull off your underwear and keep on the lime-green miniskirt. Straddle his face and push your clit into his mouth, and he starts licking, oh yes, good boy. Steady yourself against the wall with one hand.
"C-can I please touch myself?"
"Yes." Too lenient? Maybe.
You rock gently in and out of his mouth as he licks and sucks you tirelessly, oh god, it's been too long, it is so good.
Mmm. Lift yourself wordlessly off him and he stops touching himself. Didn't come. Good. That he shouldn't come before you let him should be an unspoken rule, of course.
Catch your breath. Boxers off, now.
You rub lube onto your hands and start jerking and rubbing his cock. It is honestly quite beautiful: long and dark pink. Abandon it. Spread his legs apart and rub his hole, one finger, two, start fingerfucking him.
"Can I touch myself?"
"No."
Slide the little buttplug in. And then start jerking him off in earnest.
"I'm going to... I can't hold back..."
"Well, don't," you say, and he comes all over his belly.
Smile. Wipe your hands off as he lays there, all angular hips and skinny abdomen with the come all over it, T-shirt pushed up, black collar & blindfold still on, still half-hard. Pretty as a picture.
Some ruminations on roles
Having more experiences with different lovers, researching a bit more about BDSM on Fetlife and starting Jay Wiseman's "SM 101" has lead me to start thinking about my (very, very slowly) emerging BDSM identity, again. Granted, labels are only of a very basic use here; in fact I'm highly tempted to conclude that my identity in regards to BDSM will continue to be in flux and fluid.
I'm always slightly bemused by the large number of people (close friends and acquaintances) who have me clearly pegged as dominant. It's not like people's opinions necessarily have any bearing on reality, but it's still interesting to make a note of them.
If I were to be most truthful, I'd have to declare myself as either a switch, or unsure. In my head, though, I'm most inclined to think of myself as a Domme rather than a switch or a submissive - yet the amount of time I spend in a dominant role during sex is probably only a tiny percentage. I suppose I just want to become that in a more permanent way, in contrast to the other roles/identities.
Lots of things stand in the way of me growing into a Domme identity, or make me hesitate to claim that identity outright. I'm a pretty insecure person. I second guess myself a lot. I'm easily embarrassed. I'm almost never able to bring myself to do something to a person that they might not want or that might be humiliating for them, or "force" them to do something that I want. I have a hard time expressing my desires and asking for things. Sometimes I'm not even sure what my desires are. Most of the time I can't even approach people I'm attracted to unless I'm fairly certain that the feeling is mutual. All of those things don't seem to be good domly qualities, even though I know that all sorts of people can be dominants, that dominants can be insecure, and that people can be very different in the bedroom than out of it.
But then there are times that I get a crystal clear picture in my head of what I want to do to someone. When those urges hit me, it's like an ecstatic rush to the head. I become so stuck on the idea that I can hardly think about anything else. I remember that one night all I wanted was to walk up to Girl and interrupt whatever she was doing by kissing her hard; and another night when I desperately wanted to 69 with the Professional, then bend him over and fuck him roughly in the ass until his orgasm came gasping and screaming out of him.
Whether or not I act on what I feel is another issue entirely. I very rarely do.
Sure, I've topped or bordered-on-dominated people before. Godamnit, I belted the Emperor in front of a huge roomful of people, and I've cuffed K to his bedpost and then breast-tortured him. The thing is that those ideas were fully theirs. I enjoyed the fuck out of it, but I was still the one following orders, so to speak. Most of the time, my wants or fantasies actually center around what a partner has already told me that they want done to them. It's almost as if I'm too afraid to even think beyond those things. My biggest fear when I want to do something to someone is what if the other person doesn't want that too?
In spite of all this, I've found that a few things that bring out the Domme side of me. The first thing is trust; when I'm so close to someone that I know they'll accept me no matter what seemingly bizarre desire I confide to them.
The second thing is brattiness. Mostly in hot, bitchy women. There was this girl in my fraternity who stands out in my mind very clearly. She was blond, slim, gorgeous, and perfect - like a doll. She'd act all cutesy and then turn right around and bitch you out from behind a serpentine smile. I can't remember how many times I wanted to grab her thick, blond hair in fistfulls, smudge her lipglossed smile off her face, and fuck her so hard that by the end of it she'd be boneless in my arms.
(Yeah, that obviously never happened. She's straight not to mention taken.)
The third thing is alcohol. Yeah... drunk dominance sounds like a horrible idea. Alcohol just knocks down the walls of my inhibitions like nothing else.
And while I have issues with dominance, I don't claim submissive or switch because... well. Let me put it this way. I want to be spanked, bound, scratched, roughed up, immobilized, and used. The first time I was tied up, in a completely non-sexual context might I add, I coasted down into sub/bottomspace so quickly it was like magic: I was fortunate enough to attend a bondage workshop given by Dov, and the night afterwards one of my fellow frat members wanted to practice tying a chest harness on me, so I let him. While he was binding me, I became very quiet and still, looking down at my shoes. Once my wrists were cinched securely behind my back, and pulled tightly upwards towards my shoulder blades due to the shortness of the rope he was using, I found myself in a secure, calm, comforting, almost Zen-like state. I stayed like that for a while. Then someone offered to untie me, and I reluctantly let them.
My point is, while I want all of that (and more), I'm not exactly very... submissive, per se. Case in point, when the Professional was spanking me, I lay face down on the bed for him, I immobilized my arms for him, I took every one of his swats without trying to escape, but when he tried to verbally embarrass or humiliate me, I didn't have any of it. I gave him snark and sass and started baiting him right back. In fact, if someone tried to sneer at me and call me their slut, I can see myself responding not obediently, but with an empathic "fuck you!"
One thing I can say for sure though (this is starting to turn into a rambly laundry list... forgive me) is that I'm definitely very comfortable in my bottom identity (clearly) and my top identity. God, I love topping people. Learning what turns them on and leaving them gasping for more, teasing and pleasuring and hurting and pushing them to sensory heights they've never felt before, playing their bodies like an instrument, knowing just the right buttons to press and the right way to fuck with their heads... it's quite wonderful.
My sexuality seems like it just continues to grow in different ways, and I'm excited to see what I'll find out next. Hopefully I'll find dominants who are empathetic, conscientious and strong enough for me to really feel their control (an interesting note: up until now the best dominance I've received has been from people who identify as submissive, i.e. the Emperor and the Professional), and submissives who I trust and whose psyches I can sink deeply into.
HNT: Spanked
WOW. I'm posting this the earliest I've ever posted any HNT... but I'm really excited about posting it. It's not the most creative I've done - in fact it's probably the quickest one I've taken - but personally I think it's pretty sweet.

Last weekend, I got spanked for the first time.
If you've been keeping up with my blog/Twitter/anything, you'd know about how long I waited for this to happen.
"Lay down on your stomach," he said.
I was surprised - mostly because I thought he was submissive. I knew he liked me a very long time ago, but never acted on it. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. But tonight, I was sure.
I lay down, naked, on my stomach, with my face in my pillow. I wondered what he was going to do. The only two men who I'd trusted enough to confess my spanking fetish to, without being embarrassed, had failed miserably when they had attempted to inflict pain on me. And this man, who was primarily submissive...
Crack.
He was using my plastic, cheap Bank of America ruler on me. He taunted me as he did, calling my ass too white, trying to find excuses to punish me, asking me about my experiences with D/s. In fact, he was taking a lot of ideas from me, when I had dommed him just ten minutes before.
He varied his pace, landing several on me at a time, or taking it slow and tantalizingly, giving me time to catch my breath and let it sink in between strokes. My ass hurt but I still knew I could take so much more. I gasped, panted, and cried. He scolded me when I moved my hands from in front of me, so I crossed them underneath me instead.
Then he asked me to lay across his lap, and spent several minutes working me with his hand.
I fell into kink-love. He was the antithesis, physically, of what I was typically attracted to, but the things he wanted to do to me, and the things I wanted to do to him... it was a match made in heaven.
When I woke up the next day, I saw that numerous pieces had snapped off of the ruler while he was using it on me, and now lay across the floor.
The day after that, I had a small red blush across my ass where he'd hit me. It stung when I sat down, or when my backpack pressed against the spot.
It felt wonderful.
The day after that, a bruise began to form, and I stared at it, fascinated, in my bathroom mirror.
Please. Give me more bruises.






















