Two Sadist and one Masochist Went Into a Play Space …

Co-topping. I never really thought all that hard about it before it happened to … happen. I have heard that it can be a fantasy for bottoms – two or more tops playing more or less simultaneously with the same bottom. I didn’t think much about it, one way or another, but I read about tops that found it irritating or frustrating that their bottoms wanted more than one. Not necessarily because the tops didn’t want to share at all, but because there is only so much space on one body to play with; it can be hard to have fun when another top is hugging the place!

I can’t say that I share this view. I really don’t.

From time to time I have loaned Kitty to others, but there are rules. (Aren’t there always?) The most important one is; I will be there the whole time. Unless it so happens that I don’t want to, and Kitty feels comfortable with that. The common reason for this is my own body’s sometimes lack of willingness to cooperate. As a consequence, I can’t give Kitty the beatings she wants, and that I want her to have.

While I say ‘common reason’, it really hasn’t happened that often and it didn’t happen at all before our relationship had reached a place where we both where comfortable with it. It’s actually quite fun watching your girlfriend get a beating from someone we both like and trust. From time to time I have also agreed to have her being a rope bunny for V or others. Only a time or two has any of this led to discomfort of any kind, and then it was elements in play that we could not foresee. Luckily, they were easily fixed, or forgotten.

But neither of this is co-topping.

I have only really co-topped once. Having someone to plan with, even if it was just planning then and there, was great fun. Having someone to send sly looks and big grins or laugh with when Kitty howled, was great, great fun. It was V that was my co-top that evening. Naturally, I guess.

We had planned for somethings, and other things just happened. I had packed a small bag; she had packed a bigger one. The venue provides ice-cubes and we were all set. V had brought ropes and Kitty where very soon in them. It was the first time I saw her in predicament bondage. On her toes with clower clamps on her nipples. If she put down her heels the clamps bit harder. The ice made her shiver and gasp.

(Now I’m starting to regret not writing about this earlier. Details have been forgotten and what I remember best is Kitty’s howls of pain and V and me laughing until my face hurt.)

Later on V put Kitty over a high bench and tied her to it. We proceeded with various tools; hands, wooden spoons, spatulas, paddles, the very evil stick and the thing that made Kitty cry out the most; two long zippers. (In case you do not know what a zipper is: it’s a long row of clothespins on a thread. You attach all the pins to the skin, preferably a place where the skin is delicate. When you start ripping of the tread all the pins get ripped off at once. It hurts. A lot. Hence the howls.)

While V came up with good ideas and was excellent in executing them, she also deferred to me. If this was because Kitty is my girlfriend and submissive or because I most likely know her the most or some other reason, I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t really think about it until later. (Perhaps I should ask now?) But V did. And maybe that is the reason why I don’t see the problem with co-topping? Maybe other tops bicker over place and power in the scene, and I didn’t experience that. Maybe.

All of us had a really good time.

That is not to say that Kitty didn’t have objections. Or objections are too strong a word; she wished somethings a little differently, should something similar happen again. I have taken them to heart and plan to have her refresh my memory, because sooner or later, something similar will most certainly happen again.

On this V and I agree wholeheartedly.


My First Experience as a Rope Bunny.

Even before my actual first day in the kink scene, I could not understand why so many liked rope, being tied up and tying others up. More than liked – they were completely hooked on rope. Now, bondage I could understand, but rope, this intricate and time-consuming business – not my thing. Quick bondage to prevent my submissive from moving around and to let her feel that she is, in fact, not in control – that is something else entirely.

My girlfriend have liked – or more correctly loved – rope from long before we met. Because I had no interest in binding her up, I had no trouble letting others do the deed. I was not going to take something she liked away from her. With a trusted friend, V, who likes to rig rope – there never were any problems.

Except for one. I still did not get why people so loved rope. Of course, this was a minor problem – and wholly mine. Nevertheless, I am curious of nature.

After over a year and a half in the BDSM community, that curiosity finally got the best of me and I asked V, the rigger, if she could use me as a bunny, at one time or another. She thought that was a definite possibility.

I told V that I had thought a lot about being tied up, and what it was about it that gave me the willies. Because the thought really gave me the willies, most of the time. The few times it did not, it made me curious instead. Not being able to move and not being able to get away was naturally on the top of my list. I am a control freak and it is not easy to be in control if you are tied up. Or, more accurately, it is not easy to feel in control. I am sure there are some dominants out there who like being a rope bunny and order their partner to tie them up.

V got past this worry by stating that we could try a leg first. One leg is far from a full body binding. It would most likely not give me the feeling of utter helplessness that I so much feared.

After we agreed that I could be her rope bunny at one time, I began thinking about it even more and wondered if I would ever dare to bring it up again if she did not.

In my mind, I could react in three different ways to being tied up.

Either I would freak out, as I feared. It was what I thought most possible, in my heart of hearts. (In my heart of hearts, I am a pessimist.)

Alternatively, I could end up with feeling like this: “Eh, is this what they are going on about? Why should this be so special? Could you get me out of the ropes now, please, this is boring.”

Or, I could love it and finally, totally, understand why so many love rope. (This feeling and understanding is what I wanted the most, naturally. I am pessimist, but I am also a dreamer and never without hope.)

Shades of grey is seldom present in my day dreaming scenarios.

In the Easter vacation, I was at a kink party and while looking at V tying up another woman, I tried to figure out what I felt about being tied. Not at some time or another, but then and there, with these friends. I decided that I was okay with it. Even if I freaked there was no one there to hold it against me or call me weird or stupid. Just friends.

Therefore, when V had let the other woman loose I asked her if I could be her rope bunny during the party. She said that we could try it at once. I got out of my skirt and over to her on the mattress. I have seen enough rope scenes to know that a tight skirt is not the right thing if you are going to be a rope bunny. I laid down on my back and V begun to tie my left leg, heel against backside.

And … I was gone.

She could not have gotten half way up my bent leg before I floated off on a cloud.

I have nothing to compare it to … I was just … gone.

I was not indifferent and I certainly did not freak out.

I loved it.

I loved the feeling of the rope. I loved the way V tied me up and the way she repositioned me so she could tie the other leg too. I loved the music in the background.

I was on a happy, little cloud, but I was still aware, if only barely. I can remember hearing people talk, but not what they talked about; only that it was too loud at one point. I can remember V and my girlfriend talking to me and to each other, and that I answered, but I cannot remember what. I think they asked how I was doing several times, which does not surprise me. I was very doubtful to the whole affair only minutes earlier.

When V had done both my legs, she asked if she should tie my hands too. I focused enough to think how I felt about it, before I said yes. Having my legs bound was so much not a problem; I could not believe it would be a problem having my hands bound too. It would probably feel even better.

It did.

For a while the only thing anyone could get out of me, was small moans. It felt so good.

Time disappeared completely. I still do not know where it went or how much of it that got away.

Even on my little, fluffy cloud I felt my limbs begin to protest against being in the same position. I think I told V that she had to let me loose. I have doubts as to how coherent I was at that point, but V did understand what I wanted and began taking the ropes off.

It took a good, long while for me to land after the rope high. Truth to be told, I think it took days to completely wear off. At first I could not talk, I could not hold a cup and I could not sit up on the mattress. I felt so weak and full off fluff and I did not mind the least. I just mumbled, moaned and laughed. My girlfriend laid down beside me, petted me and laughed with me. I was so high and so happy.

Even now, over a week later, I still do not understand what happened or exactly how it could happen. If I should try to describe the experience with other words than me on a happy, fluffy cloud, I would say that it was a bit like a deep mediation combined with a good, warm massage. At least, I imagine something like that. I was so relaxed, mentally and physically, both during and after being tied up.

I think my intense reaction to being tied up have several sources. The major one is that as a control freak I seldom, if ever, let go of the control of my life and my surroundings, not completely or for long. To let go so utterly must have felt kind of heady in and for itself. As to how I could let go like that when I expected to freak out more than anything … I think that has to do with the feeling of safety, warmth and amity in the room. There was nothing to fear, on any level or in any shape. And of course, I feel that I know V and I trust her to look after me when I am in her ropes. Having my girlfriend there did not hurt either.

Summa summarum: The fact that I felt safe made it possible for me to turn of my head in a way I am rarely capable of.

I have never had my movements so restricted and I have never felt so free and at peace.

It was glorious.

The year 2013

It’s been a good year for me, all in all.

I have learned a lot about myself, some surprising things, some funny things and some things that were plain scary, to begin with.

I have begun new friendships with people I hope to keep in my life in years to come.

I have both ended and begun romantic relationships. Later today I have a dinner date with my girlfriend and after that we will attend a play party. I look forward to it, a lot.

I have been more scared and out of my comfort zone than I have been in years, but I have also been braver than I have had reason to be, in years. So that worked out fine.

I have read about 80 books this year, both fictional and non-fictional.

I have read and learned a lot about my new hobby, BDSM. In fact, I have read more non-fictional material than I have done since I left school. Right now I’m reading “The New Topping Book” by Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy, I like it a lot.

I have written over 400 pages of a manuscript that isn’t fantasy. This is the manuscript that had me researching BDSM to begin with.

I have lost someone. So far in my life I have been lucky and haven’t lost human friends and family. Now I can no longer say that. This loss is part of the reason for me not writing this past month, not on my manuscript and not on this blog. I hope I will get back to it in 2014. I love to write; sometimes I think I need it to stay healthy and sane.

I will spend New Year’s Eve with my girlfriend and friends I have met through my new hobby. I’m pretty sure it will be great, with so many great people there.

I know this is a list of “I this” and “I that” and that it is bad writing, but since the list is about my year … I figured it could work.

The Cozy Perverts

A warm room full of people, talking and laughter.

A man sits with handcuffs and talks animatedly with a man with pigtails and clip-on ear rings.

Two women in various state of dress, bound with ropes, walks around and talks and jokes with others.

A new and wicked cane simply has to be tested by everyone on everyone else.

A small group of men and women has gathered to help a couple of men choose the right nail polish and get it on without too much of a mess.

A man sits on the floor, does what he is told, and gets petted now and again.

Sometimes there is slaps, whacks, hair pulling and pinching followed by sounds like ouch, ai ai ai, iiiiii, no no no and I’m sorry! And of course there is laughter from everyone else.

Good conversations with friends, laughter and smiles.

A cute and tired woman has her head in my lap. She needs some petting and repose. I’m so happy to see her, talk to her and touch her. I haven’t seen her, my date, since the Halloween party and we have a lot of cuddling to make up for. Later, when she is up for it, we will try the cane that’s been sent around the whole evening. Earlier I got a shoe-horn from a friend and I want to use that one too. It’s what we tried on Halloween and it worked very well. But for right now it’s cuddling, hugging, caressing and talking.

The whole atmosphere is relaxed and warm and friendly. It’s always nice to be here, it’s always a lot of good people to talk to, but tonight there is this relaxed feeling going on too. This feeling of a very close knitted group that have some serious down time together. I know that everyone isn’t that close knitted, I couldn’t even put a name to most of the people in the room, but it doesn’t change the feeling.

The very cozy feeling.

What is my “type”?

While it sometimes happens that I think a random woman on the street is beautiful, I don’t have a physical “type” that interests me more than others. Or, if I do, I have not found it yet. I think it’s fascinating how some of my friends seem to have a physical “type” they like better than other types. It might be that someone with long, brown hair, square jaw and muscle appeals more than other features. Or it might be a more general look, like someone with Asian features or Nordic, Hispanic or Italian features. Of course, the fact that someone likes to watch people that look so and so, doesn’t mean that they always fall in love with someone that looks like that.

Physical looks are, after all, only the first impression, and while the first impression matters, it’s unlikely to do any good if the person is a jerk.

When my friends and I talk about types and they list features that makes them turn their heads or personality traits that makes them pay closer attention, and then ask about my type, I can’t give them an answer. We have used hours to try and find my type, without success. Sure, I like that girls have some hair on their heads and I like it if their clothing style are girlish more than boyish, but neither is a must have. When it comes to hair, eye and skin color I have no preferences that I know of. It’s not like I can’t see a woman and like what I see, I most certainly can, but there is no straight answer to exactly why I like her looks. And if you put her exact opposite next to her, I might like her just as much.

While I don’t have a physical type, that I have discovered, I do have a list with preferences. I would like it if we have some, or a lot, of the same interests. We must be able to talk, and talk and talk and laugh a lot together. I would prefer it if we were quite close in age, give or take about three years. And there must be chemistry, lots of good chemistry, and a spark. The spark isn’t necessary to begin with; if the right chemistry is there, the spark might just come in its own time.

Of course, now that I’m carefully dipping my toes in the BDSM world, I would like it very much if we were compatible in that area too. Not that I’m entirely aware of what that would mean, for my part, but I’m beginning to get a notion of it.

So far none of those I have fallen in love with have been even the slightest bit alike, physically. They have been on completely different ends of the spectrum, both in features and colors. I think that the personality catches my attention first and if other things are right, the fact that I like how she looks kind of sneaks up on me until I one day realize she is beautiful, stylish and so very cute. There is no other way to describe it.

My type is the one I fall in love with.

Public humiliation

I’m still in a bit of a shock. It was so surprising. Unexpected, unanticipated, unimagined and several other un- something or another. It caught me completely unawares (there, yet another un-).

I hadn’t thought about it at all, because, well, why would I think about it? I would, of course, have no interest in it, none what-so-ever. If someone had asked me and made me contemplate it, I would have answered the same.

It wasn’t for me, I didn’t see how it could be.

Now I know different.

I don’t laugh when someone stumbles or spills something, whether it is on the street or in a TV-show. I don’t snigger if someone has toilet paper under their shoe or if their make-up has gone askew. If I have the opportunity, I try to make them aware of the problem, as polite as possible. I have too much sympathy to do anything else, besides, karma is a bitch.

If someone falls on the ice, or because of something else, it hurts to watch, even if it’s on TV. If there is a topic in a conversation that makes someone in it embarrassed, I try to change topic or take some of the focus over on me. I have no wish to see anyone embarrassed.

Because of all this I never even considered that I might like to see someone publicly humiliated.

Why would I ever want something like that?

Because it’s hilarious, that’s why!

And that’s the thing, the problem, the shock. I never saw it coming, not in any way. Okay, so it’s not really a problem, not at all. But it truly was a shock.

How could I not only stand to watch someone getting so very embarrassed, but laugh, really laugh at it. Not give a small smile or grin, not a low giggling, but a laugh that made it hard to breathe and made my face hurt? I don’t know. I honestly didn’t know I had it in me.

I don’t know if it was that one situation, that one evening, or if it will be like that if I witness something similar again. All I know is that it was so much fun and that I hope that I will get the same reaction on a similar occasion. I was in fits of laughter even on my way home. My face hurt for hours. Someone joked about hurting me by proxy. First they made the “victim” squirm and then they hurt me because I laughed so much from watching the “victim”.

Talk about having the cake and eating it too.


(For the record – and my own peace of mind – the “victim” in this situation was also laughing, a lot. The “victim” was, without a doubt, having a grand time too and it was, of course, consensual.)


New Newbies

A couple of weeks ago I meet another newbie at a kinky gathering. Of course, there are always newbies, either completely new newbies or newbies that has been to some gatherings but still are very new newbies. (New newbies; say it ten times, fast!) It was her first time at anything kinky and she seemed as nervous as I had been at my first munch. We began talking and realized that we actually were pretty much alike, not only being new to BDSM, but in other things as well. We talked and talked, and I got pretty excited when I heard she was a reader and that she liked fantasy books, just like me. That alone is at subject that can fill hours. We continued to send messages over Felife and got to know each other better and better. Not well, maybe, but definitely better.

Yesterday we met up before going to a munch together. We talked and talked and talked, both before, during and after the munch. Sometimes we agreed on so much and had so similar tastes that I found it a bit weird. I mean really, what are the chances! We talked to other people too, of course, both other newbies and more experienced people. Still, I’m pretty sure I talked the most with her.

When we left the munch we were laughing and giggling so much it was hard to breathe, let alone talk. My face hurt from smiling. If it’s possible to be drunk on laughter, I was drunk, rip roaring drunk. It was a good feeling.

Was I nervous before we went to the munch? Yes, I was, but nothing close to the nervousness I have experienced before. I was with someone I knew I got along with and knew could talk to. That I was less nervous could stem from the fact that I was coming and leaving with someone, or it could be that I feel more secure now. I have been to some gatherings, talked to a lot of people, and I still stand tall. Maybe, just maybe, my brain finally accepted that it isn’t really scary. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I don’t know, and I don’t really care, so long the nerves don’t come back. (That’s probably too much to ask for, but I can hope …)

Anyway, I’m glad that I met her and that we can talk so well about so much. I’ll see her again today, at another kinky gathering. I look forward to discover what new topics we will talk to pieces.