#i love my life

You know you have something pretty damn great when you’re wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms in your bed on a Sunday morning and your husband walks in (coming home from his sleepover with Rachel) and says “oh, hey, guys, just getting my work clothes, I’ll be outta here in 30 seconds.” I love my love and I love my polycule.

(As a side note, Ross and I were like, “it’s not what it looks like!” and then laughed hysterically because it’s exactly what it looks like.)

I love my life

Partners I saw: 3

Times I had piv sex: 4

Times my partners came: 4

Times I came: 1

Times I cried during sex/play: 4

Apartments I started cleaning: 2

Marriage proposals: 1

Accepted marriage proposals: 1

Death threats, times I was choked, hair grabs, mean things said to me, names I was called, slaps in the face, smacks, punches, and other impacts: Too many to count

Sweet little moments, hugs, kisses, caresses, conversations, jokes, meaningful looks shared, compliments, times I laughed with someone, and instances of genuine affection: Likewise uncountable

I had a ridiculously good time at the party tonight.

My first scene (with The Unknown Quantity) ended because I was laughing too hard and couldn’t stop, just from the endorphins, and the main result was an incredibly sensitive right inner thigh. Then I got incredibly sleepy and down, so I napped to the sounds of screaming, moans, and all kinds of impact.

When I woke up, I tottered over to Reaction Junkie and glommed onto him and listened to the conversation. During a break in the talking, he asked me how I was doing. I told him about being sleepy and down and a short while later, he was grabbing and squeezing my right inner thigh, making me cry out in extreme pain.

I Skyped with Sexy Librarian tonight (who I hooked up with but foolishly never wrote up here because I am not the best at keeping up with writing up awesome stuff that happens to me). She lives in A2, where I’ll be going over the Fourth of July weekend, partially to visit friends and eat vegan food, mainly to see my owner and get used and beaten.

Well, she told me that MLAM had told her I was coming, and then said she wanted to tell me the context. It was a discussion of threesomes. We giggled and poked around it a bit, and then finally I was thinking “oh god I need this to happen” so I said “So, are we going to have a threesome? We should plan to do that!” and she was like “Looks like now we all have plans for that weekend!” and now I’m basically having a fantasy come to life. A kinky threesome with a dangerously intelligent, creative, quick, mean man, and an equally awesome female friend who will get topped along with me, or top me, or have me top her, or some combination of all of that? That’s the dream.

I can’t wait for next Thursday!

I’m planning to write more details about yesterday sometime this weekend, but for now, here’s a very happy-making list.

• I got a reasonable amount of sleep.
• Reaction Junkie told me a story in the car on the way to work while I got myself off in the passenger seat.
• I had a nice lunch with My Boss.
• My Boss drove me to the top of a parking garage and spanked my ass with a paddle until I was whimpering and writhing.
• Reaction Junkie texted me during the day, telling me dirty thing he wanted to do to me. 
• I had a good conversation with Nickname TBD and we planned getting together at the con coming up the weekend after this.
• I I had good time at happy hour D talking with friends, old and new.
• I made a new friend, Radical Girl.
• I got to see The Unknown Quantity, who I haven’t seen much of lately.
• While we were waiting for the train, Reaction Junkie was all dommy and made a friend of his, B, directly ask me if he could grab my ass and tits, and, when I said yes, B did so.
• Reaction Junkie then got me incredibly turned on by making me whisper lewd things to B on the train, despite my protests. 
• Reaction Junkie used all the things he had done to me during the day (the orgasm in the morning, the texts during the day, the things he made B do to me and me do to B) against me, teasing me on on off for the rest of the night, and this morning. 

Note: I know this is a month late. Sorry! I’m working on catching up, but I’ve been so busy at work and socially.

I had plans to grab dinner with MLAM and Reaction Junkie before the Tuesday happy hour. MLAM and I were to meet about an hour before Reaction Junkie would show up, and have a little time to walk around and catch up one on one. As I rode the train to meet MLAM, I started feeling very nervcited. I hadn’t seen him in months, and we hadn’t talked much lately. When the train stopped, I walked slowly over to the escalator and took a deep breath before getting on. I looked around as I rode up, wanting to spot MLAM. I stepped off, turned, and saw him. I gave him a big hug and he picked me up, grinning. I felt my feet brush against someone and I turned around to see Reaction Junkie. I squeaked, happy to see him, and gave him a big hug as well. I was glad he was there because I love spending time with him, but I was also a little disappointed not to have any time one-on-one with MLAM.

I introduced the two men, both of whom have been major parts of my life, and we started walking. They’re both the bizarre kind of human being who is completely devoid of social anxiety, so they immediately began conversing. I joined in, as well, and we walked to the vegan restaurant for dinner. While we were there, the two men were both being dommy and mean, telling me to do things hurting me subtly , teasing me. They were basically co-domming me. It was a heady experience, feeling submissive towards and dominated by two people at once. I’m not sure if I was having a total blast or was completely miserable. (And of course that’s a lie. It’s obviously the former.)

After we finished eating, we headed to happy hour. I have to admit I was still feeling rather nervous. That resulted in me acting out a bit with Reaction Junkie. I tried to play it like it was me being toppy, but it was really something of a performance. As we walked, Reaction Junkie called me out on my nervous behavior and I worked to reign it in. Reaction Junkie had originally been planning to skip happy hour and go to a meeting, but he didn’t feel well, so he stayed. When happy hour began, I talked with people, introducing MLAM to some of my friends and other partners, but I tried not to be all over him because I wanted to let him do his thing or be too clingy. Looking back, that was silly. We hadn’t seen each other in months, so of course it would have been fine for me to glom on the whole night.

I spent some time in a lovely little cuddle pile with Anderson Cooper, Kitten, Reaction Junkie, and someone else I didn’t really know. The whole time, however, I was watching MLAM out of the corner of my eye, wondering when it would be appropriate to grab him and go upstairs for some time with him in a play-friendly setting. Finally, I decided I didn’t want to wait any longer, and I sidled up and asked him if he wanted to go up with me. He did, and we headed up.

As soon as we got upstairs and I put my things down, he grabbed my hair and led me around the space. He told me to put my glasses in my bag and dragged me back towards it. I asked what he wanted me to take off, but he said he’d take off what he wanted off. I like that answer. I certainly don’t mind when people I play with allow me to take off what I want, and when I’m just beginning to play with someone, that’s the proper way to go about it, in my opinion. But having him tell me that he’d do it, and knowing that I’d take off what he told me to. Mmph. It’s the little things, and he’s very good at those small details, creating and solidifying the dynamic.

Next, he started leading me around my my nipple, which hurt like fuck. He pushed me down on one of the ottomans and I sat facing him, waiting expectantly. He began hitting my left leg a bunch, slapping my thigh repeatedly to warm up, and then hitting me harder. At one point, he stuck his hand in my face and instructed me to lick. I obeyed, although I wasn’t sure why he was doing that. Then, as he slapped my leg again with his wet hand, I remembered. It makes it hurt more because less gas is trapped between the hitter’s hand and the hittee’s body. (Or something physics-y like that. I think that’s right?) I’d forgotten that trick. He continued hurting me, and played with my mind, acting like he was going to hit me, then not, then going to hit me again, again not hitting me, finally hitting me, etc. By the end of the first round, I was shaking from the pain and the mental stress he was putting me under.

When we took a breather, I looked over my body and saw the marks already beginning to form. I asked MLAM if he would show Reaction Junkie how he did things, since he’s so good at leaving the kinds of marks I love. I almost didn’t ask because I didn’t want Reaction Junkie to feel like I was saying anything negative about him, but I know he’s not like that, so I did. They both stood over me. MLAM showed him things as they talked, Reaction Junkie tried them out, and they both mostly ignored me. It was objectifying and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

They both began hitting me. My legs were shaking and I was breathing fast as the two men beat my legs. When Reaction Junkie hit my right outer thigh, which he had destroyed the previous weekend, it overwhelmed me. I curled up around myself and had to take a break. Reaction Junkie got me some water and I caught my breath. When we resumed, I had one man on each leg, each hitting me and toying with me. MLAM showed how much he enjoys stressing people out psychologically with mindfuckery and headgames. It makes the pain worse with less effort from him. I lay back on the row of ottomans and closed my eyes. They were both beating me hard and fast, slapping and punching my thighs. I was shaking and groaning, struggling not to be too loud as I reveled in the sensations I was experiencing.

When there was a lull in the impact, MLAM asked me, “How do you feel about your ribcage?” I was confused for a moment, having gone into a headspace, but then agreed to having him hit me there. I lay down on the ottomans. MLAM started hitting my back, smacking down forcefully with open hands. It stung like fuck, and that mingled with the pain and fear and stress from when they were both hitting my legs. I started crying. I decided we should stop. Partially because I was about done, but more than that, because I don’t want to make people uncomfortable. This was a happy hour, not an official play party, and even if “light play” has no real meaning, I feel like someone crying could have been upsetting to someone in this non-play party context.

I cuddled and talked with MLAM for a little while after the scene was over. When I felt recovered, I got some water downstairs. When I went back up, MLAM was standing with a group of people that included Reaction Junkie. I went and stood by MLAM for a while, and I was thinking about joining Reaction Junkie when MLAM told me that if I wanted to go be by him, that was fine. I didn’t want to leave MLAM, but I also did feel the need to be by Reaction Junkie. So I cuddled up to him and spent the rest of the night talking to him and the rest of the group.

I had a great night, but MLAM apparently did not. He told me later that he felt like a third wheel, like he was intruding. That’s not at all how I felt about him being there. I didn’t realize he would feel that way at all. It didn’t even cross my mind. It likely would have been better if MLAM and I had had some time for just us before meeting up with Reaction Junkie. When I talked with Reaction Junkie about things the next day, he admitted that he had felt similarly, and had been trying to stay out of our way. I’d spent more of my concern about hurt feelings than necessary on Reaction Junkie, and not enough on MLAM. I regret not having alone time with MLAM first, and not spending more time with him at happy hour. Next time, I’ll do a better job of actually talking to people about how they want to interact in situations like that. I’m still very glad MLAM came to town, and the other two times we got together went much better. I do miss him, and I hope to get a chance to see him sometime in the near future.

I’ve been helping Reaction Junkie pack and get ready for his move all day today. And you know what he’s done in return?

He’s been threatening to lock me in dark places, saying things to creep me out, like “don’t wake her up” and “she can’t fit in there,” and has made me cry at least four times. Including within two minutes of getting to his new apartment.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

My birthday just so happened to fall on a Tuesday this year, and I was excited, because that meant I’d be at Happy Hour. I thought I might get hit some, or maybe get some special rope. What happened was way better than I could have imagined.

The event on FetLife for the happy hour mentioned a drum circle and “a birthday surprise for [littlefeministbitch].” Buzz said he had a surprise for me that went *whomp*, and Boy Genius offered me birthday rope, and when I made a request, agreed to do a futomomo with his coconut rope (painful!).. I was excited, and a little bit nervous.

When I walked in, I started talking to Buzz and a couple other people. Boy Genius told me to come get my birthday rope whenever I wanted. I chatted with people for a while, then headed upstairs. Boy Genius was already tying an attractive woman, and I sat and enjoyed the show. More people filed up, and the drum circle started. I was a bit on edge, unsure when Buzz would spring the surprise on me.

As I watched the room, I was happy to see that there were a lot of pretty girls there, and most (if not all) of them seemed to be queer. There were a couple of women who had a bit of a power dynamic going on, and it was incredibly hot. It made me even more excited to see Sexy Librarian than I already was!

The drums kept going, and I noticed Buzz put a bunch of the footstools together in the middle of the circle and thought, “I wonder if those are for me to lay on?” Well, a few minutes later, I hear/see sparklers coming up the stairs. He’d bought me a cake and two sparklers for candles! The entire upstairs of the bar stopped and everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to me, which was completely and utterly embarrassing. And really wonderful. I thanked everyone afterwards and turned to Buzz.

He told me that I still had to do my initiation, told me, “clothes off,” and motioned for me to lay on the footstools, face down. I complied and he announced, “New drum, everyone!” and the beat started again. I felt unknown hands starting to drum along on my back, my thighs, my ass, even the souls of my feet. It felt nice, but also made me feel used, since I couldn’t tell who was touching me. I felt like an object for public use. Which is fitting, since that’s what I am.

I finally looked over my shoulder at one point, fully expecting to see men, which would have been perfectly fine, of course, since being used by men is my purpose. But instead there were two gorgeous women, one of whom was the very pretty girl who told Breastie and me that we should do rope with Boy Genius our first time out. The other was this goddamn adorable baby soft-butch looking girl who Boy Genius had been tying earlier. I’d whispered to a friend “I can’t tell if I want to look like her, or get her in my bed.” Both. The answer is both.

I smiled at them and said something about being hit by pretty girls, and they both smiled, and one said “We got you.” Clearly they were hitting me in lieu of creepy guys, and they knew that and felt some sort of protectiveness, which was sweet. Unnecessary, because men have every right to my body, but sweet all the same.

Eventually, the drummers took a break, and Buzz came over. I thanked him, and then he started pressing on all my bruises and giving me a few additional thumb-sized ones. It was great, and I squirmed and made noises, which he very much enjoyed. He told me that another guy could tie me up, and I said I had a request in to Boy Genius. The offered rope was interesting, but I knew that I’d be getting a coconut/palm rope futomomo from Boy Genius, and I wanted that.

When Boy Genius was done with the scene he was in, he came over and, after a minute, got to tying me. He’d said he had a creative new thing to do, and that it involved two lengths of coconut rope and one of jute, which was exciting. He took my left leg, bent it, and got to work. The drums were beating, and he commented that he felt like he was about to sacrifice me, and he was right. It felt like I was going to be sacrificed, the primal rhythm, the dark, and soon, the pain.

He started wrapping the coconut rope around my leg in time with the beat. After locking it off, he squeezed my leg a bit and then took the jute and did another futomomo layered on top. That hurt even more. When he finished, he beat on my leg, scratched it, pressed it, and generally made me suffer. I squirmed and squeaked and got into a nice, masochistic headspace.

Then, he grabbed the other piece of coconut rope. I looked up at him, fear showing in my eyes. He laughed a little and said “You have no idea what I’m going to do with this.” Then, he told me he was going to floss it under both futomomos. As he started to pull it through, I realized that I was in for some real pain this time. He dragged it along my skin, and I said “Fuck you!” before correcting it to “Thank you, sir!” It hurt like fuck. I felt like my leg was getting torn up. I did more than squirm and squeak this time. I writhed in pain, and only the beat of the drums kept me from filling the entire bar with my yelps, moans, groans, and screams.

When he finished one side, he said, “You know what the thing about flossing is?” I looked confused. He said “You have to do both sides!” and roughly pushed my leg in the other direction and did the whole thing all over again. By the end I could barely think. If I’d been a little bit more in a submissive headspace, not just masochistic, I think I would have been entirely spaced from the pain and submission. It was an incredible experience. I didn’t consider redding out even once.

He pulled the flossing rope through, and then started to unwrap the jute. As I know from experience, removing the rope does not mean the suffering is over. This was more true here than ever before. The coconut rope was even worse. I legitimately thought my skin was stuck to it and being removed along with the rope. 

When he was done, he grabbed my thigh, making me twitch and yelp. He announced to the room, “Everyone should come ask [littlefeministbitch] if they can do this!” Sadly, only one person came over, but he enjoyed grabbing me and watching me jerk and whine. 

While we were cuddling afterwards, I had my head on Boy Genius’ knee, looking up at him. I felt all warm and happy and satisfied. He lightly ran his fingers up and down my leg, which made me push my face into his lap. He enjoyed that a great deal, and spent time doing that repeatedly. We talked a bit, and he said he felt pretty confident about his sadistic futomomos. He said he only knew one person worse than him, and that was the guy who taught him who, according to him, “feels disappointed if he ends a scene without removing a small body part.” He saw my reaction and told me he’d introduce me.

Boy Genius is much more of a sadist than I previously thought. He’s learning that he really can treat me like the eager to please, eager to suffer slut that I am.

The rest of the evening I recovered from the scene, and I joined everyone in going to the restaurant when the bar closed. I chatted for a while, and then headed to the train to go home.

When I was at the train station, Goby came up and we spent some time together. They let me cuddle with them, and we actually rode almost the whole way together. When we got to my transfer point, they stayed with me until my train came. While we were waiting, they had their arm around me, and started grabbing my hip, which made me squirm a little and moan softly. It was hot, and I noticed that they adjusted their cock, which makes me happy. Before I left, they stopped me and gave me a kiss. 

All in all, I can’t think of any way I would have rather spent my birthday. I love that I’ve found friends and, more than that, a community of people who are fun as fuck and know just how to make a slut like me feel welcome.

Reaction Junkie: Hi, mom.
Reaction Junkie, answering a question: Having a sexy party with a bunch of beautiful women.
Me: Put her on speaker!
Reaction Junkie, after putting the phone on speaker: Say “Hi, mom.”
Me and the three other beautiful women: Hi, mom!
Reaction Junkie’s Mom, utterly surprised: Oh my god.
Reaction Junkie and the four of us: *die laughing*

Part 3

When I started coming out of the headspace the scene had put me in, I suddenly realized there were a lot of people there. I had been entirely within the scene, so focused on Reaction Junkie, that I hadn’t noticed them at all. He and I gathered our things and walked to the couches outside of the main play area. We sat down for some aftercare, cuddling and talking. I had no way to know that this aftercare session would be just as intense as the scene that preceded it.

Reaction Junkie said something teasing, and I responded, “I hate you,” which, of course, I didn’t actually mean. His response took me entirely by surprise, “No you don’t. You love me.” My mouth dropped open and I couldn’t find words for a moment. Then I squirmed and buried my head in his chest. I said, “No,” and reiterated my hatred, “I hate you I hate you I hate you.” Reaction Junkie interrupted me, saying, “You say you hate me because if you didn’t, you’d say you loved me.”

I was shocked that he was bringing this up in this way, that he was just saying these things. Who does that? I was even a little mad at him. He was pushing me out into the open, making me confront feelings I hadn’t yet labeled even to myself. Finally, I was able to say, “I like you a lot.” Reaction Junkie shook his head. “You love me. You’ve loved me for weeks.” I stopped trying to dispute the emotion, although I also wasn’t ready to admit it. I instead focused on the timeline, “I don’t know about that.” He accepted that aspect, but continued to insist that I loved him.

I kept up my denial for a while. Finally, I admitted to it, “Okay. You’re right.” I said that it wasn’t something I had even acknowledged to myself. I’d brushed against it in conversation with friends and things I wrote for my feels blog, and even talked about the word “love,” but all in roundabout ways. Reaction Junkie said, “You know how I knew? Because of the jealousy feels.” He was talking about the first night he and I spent with Kitten. I shoved him a little and pouted. We continued talking and, as we did, I started thinking about everything that had happened that night and might happen now that my feelings for him were out in the open. I started crying, sobbing really, both from the pain and fear during the scene and because of the emotional intensity.

Reaction Junkie held me and comforted me. He asked what I needed, if there was anything he could do. He said he didn’t have a blanket and asked if I wanted to put my clothes on. I wasn’t sure what I wanted and was trying to sort it out when a guy came over to us. Normally that would be rude, but in this case it was actually really nice because he told us where the aftercare room was. I looked at Reaction Junkie and sniffled, “Can we go in there?” I felt bad for monopolizing him. I didn’t want to keep him taking care of me instead of going off and having fun with other people. But at the same time, I still needed care. Now it wasn’t just from the scene; I needed afteraftercare.

Obviously, Reaction Junkie immediately agreed we could go to the aftercare room. We cuddled up on a couch. He put a blanket over us and held me while I cried into him. We talked about the word “love” and about fear of saying it. My mind was racing as we talked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to say what I was thinking, but I decided to just spit it out instead of holding it inside and continuing to be upset about it. I told him, “I’m mostly upset because I don’t know how you feel.” Reaction Junkie paused. Then he told me that he’s also afraid of the word “love,” but that I should know he feels the same. He asked, “Would you feel better if I said it back?” I told him I didn’t want to make him say it, didn’t want to push him. He looked at me and said, “I love you.” I smiled at him and replied, “I love you.”

We stayed there talking for a long time, about our issues with sharing feelings, about not wanting to risk being hurt, about life, about the future, and about “our” possible future. My favorite moment was when Reaction Junkie said that he wouldn’t have said “I love you” to me unless he meant it. When I mentioned the times he’d said it sarcastically or in teasing way over the past few weeks. He repeated himself, “I wouldn’t have said it unless I meant it.” I looked at him and he added, “I said it sarcastically, but that was a way to protect myself and get myself to say it.” That means each time he’d said it over the previous weeks, each time he’d told me, “I love you” in a joking tone that would seem to imply he didn’t really mean what he was saying, each time, he’d meant it. He’d been saying “I love you” to me for weeks.*

I felt giddy and contented the rest of the night. I still get that warm fuzzy feeling when I think about it. We’ve grown even closer since then, and I’m ever so pleased with the way my life is going. It’s full of love, caring friends and partners, and hella fun.

*I’ve told multiple friends that bit of the story, and pretty much each person has responded, “Awwwwww!” That is the correct response. It’s sweet and adorable as fuck.

You know how I used to encourage people to “Be meaner!” while playing? I don’t feel the urge to do that anymore.

Now there are at least a couple men I know who can be mean as fuck and know just how to treat a stupidly eager to please cunt like me, one who is willing and ready to take just about anything they decide to dish out. They need no such encouragement to be as mean as necessary. And after they are, I thank them for it.

You know you’ve made all the right choices when, instead of giving you a quick goodbye kiss before leaving to get granola to make you both delicious oatmeal for breakfast , the man who whipped you last night puts his hand around your throat and rubs your cunt .

I’m at happy hour D and I love it. Lots of cuddling and hugging and making out and being toppy/dommy towards Reaction Junkie.

My life is awesome.

I’m at happy hour D and I love it. Lots of cuddling and hugging and making out and being toppy/dommy towards Reaction Junkie.

My life is awesome.

Oh gods so many people saying nice things to me and wanting to play with me and spend time with me at happy hour today (Boy Genius, Buzz, and Lioness)!

It’s all a little overwhelming and I legit don’t understand why so many amazing and fun people like me (Those three, plus MLAM and Legolas, who I’m so glad to have met because they know just how I need to be treated, and they’re excellent people outside of that, and Marxman, who I just met, but is incredibly interesting and also understands what sort of treatment a silly little feminist bitch like me needs). I don’t think I’m anything all that special. But I’ll take it!

[Note: This is about the previous happy hour, on Tuesday, August 19 2014]

When we got to the fast food place, Reaction Junkie and Anderson Cooper ordered their food. Before we walked up the stairs to grab a table, Reaction Junkie handed me his bag to carry while he went to the bathroom. When Anderson Cooper came over, I decided to see if he would do something for me and, in an adorable little voice, I told him the bag was too heavy and asked him to carry it. He obviously did. Later on, Reaction Junkie told me he probably liked that. Hee hee hee. We all sat down and talked for a while. They both have appealing politics and I enjoy watching their friendship dynamic.

A little while later, another group of people from happy hour joined us, and we moved to a bigger table. Several of them were women who were, from what I could tell, toppy or top-leaning. I was really digging the energy at the table and the way people were interacting. I’m ridiculously into the idea of having a friend group, where I have lots of friends and they all know each other, as opposed to just having a bunch of friends. It’s about that community feel. It makes me feel like I have a home, a bit like having a chosen family. Maybe not quite that intense, although I also crave that family feeling, so I would welcome having a group of friends/a community develop into a chosen family.

The toppy ladies were talking about underwear and one of them said “Looking cute is important in the dungeon. You look cute and then you hurt people.” Role models! That’s exactly how I want to be when I’m topping/domming. Also, at one point I said something about having to play dumb or being submissive to men, or something. One of the women responded in a sardonic tone, “Oh, yes. Because women are inferior to men and should be submissive to them at all times.” She waited a beat and then continued, “Because the guys at this table definitely believe that.” It’s funny cuz subby boys. Later on, one of the women was talking about CBT and offering to give lessons to the other. I said I would be interested. She gave me her card and said she would definitely teach me some time. Heh heh heh heh.

I really liked these women, but they intimidated me. Not only because they were toppy, but also because they were women. Women are always more intimidating than men. Partially because I care a lot about what women think and find them harder to impress, which makes for a nervous little feminist bitch. Not to mention the fact that men are, well, easy. No offense, guys. Y'all are still superior and all that, but I know what to do with you. Reaction Junkie has promised to help me make some female friends, which I’m super excited about.

Before we left the restaurant, Reaction Junkie asked if I was in a toppy space. I’d been hitting someone pretty hard not too long before, but also I really like subbing for him, so I said I could be. It seemed like he wanted me to, so I resolved to try to keep my headspace. We headed out to take the train, and, as we left, Anderson Cooper called after us, “Have fun, you two!”, making me blush and smile. I like it when someone knows exactly what dirty dirty things I’m about to go get up to.

While we were waiting for the train, he started saying things to me, holding my hair, and generally being dommy. He started referencing the edgeplay I’m not allowed to tell anyone about, and I finally stopped him and ask him if he wanted me to top. I knew that if he kept doing what he was doing, it would render me unable to do so. He said he could go either way, I said that I could top, but then he just…kept doing those things and pushed me into a subby headspace. When we got on the train, we cuddled up and he started whispering terrible things in my ear about hurting me, killing me, raping me. About how nobody would even try to stop him if he just started beating me then and there. I was incredibly turned on and it was all I could do not to moan too loudly.

When we finally made it back to his place, he went into the kitchen while I took off my shoes. He asked me if I wanted water, and I said I did. He called me into the kitchen, telling me to come get it. I sighed to myself and thought, “He’s doing a thing.” When I walked into the kitchen, I found that I had been absolutely correct. He had a bowl filled with water and told me I was going to drink my water out of it, on the floor, no hands. Like an animal. That is my place, after all. I whined for a while, but I was always going to do it. It was new for me, and I tend to whine before doing new things, but when someone, especially someone with that level of control over me, tells me to do a thing, I do a thing.

He told me to drink it like a kitty, by lapping it up. I was thirsty and being a bit pert, so I asked if I could do it like a horse instead, since horses gulp. He agreed, although he did make me drink some of it “like a kitty” because he wanted to see it. When I’d drank most, but not all, of the water, I stopped. “Are you done?” he asked. I didn’t want more and I didn’t want to keep drinking off the floor, so I said, “Yes.” He repeated the question,“Are you done?” I whined that I couldn’t tell what question he was asking, if I was finished and didn’t want more, or if I had drank all of it. His tone changed when he asked the next time.“Are. You. Done?” I took a risk and said, “Yes.”

He picked up the bowl and grabbed a towel. “You know how we can check if you’re done?” he asked. I cringed, knowing I’d answered wrong. He dumped the rest of the water on my head, and I whimpered. Next time I’ll actually finish my water.

Now that I’d been properly put in my place, we went into his room. I stripped and went to the bathroom. He told me that when I was done pissing, I should spread my legs. I did as instructed, and he came in and pissed into the bowl through my legs. Some got on me, of course, and when he was done, he told me, in a disgusted tone, to clean myself off. I sighed, washed off, and brushed my teeth.

When I went back into the bedroom, he was already in bed. He motioned for me to kneel next to him and I complied. “I’ve reconsidered you letting me sleep in my bed. You can sleep at the foot of the bed.” he told me, noting that I was gross from being on the train and being pissed on. I felt a bit sad and let out a little noise. “Can you say there all night? he asked. I told him I didn’t know, and he seemed to pick up on the fact that not being allowed to cuddle up and sleep with him would have made me bad, and not in a good way, because he told me we could do it another time, he wanted a big spoon.

We cuddled up. I was super exhausted from all the fun I’ve been having, especially with him. He reached back and started playing with my cunt. I fell asleep with him touching me.

I like this kid. I slip into subspace ridiculously easily with him, and I love the rush of being afraid that I get when he tops me. It’s also fun to get to explore my dom side, even if I cede control to him at the slightest hint he’ll take it. Besides the kink stuff, he’s a genuinely interesting person and I really enjoy both having conversations with him and just listening to him talk. I’m excited to spend more time with him.

Part 9

After everyone put their clothes back on, we started our journey to the restaurant for dinner. As we walked, we were having a bunch of different conversations, ranging from serious to sexy to hilarious, and I was having a great time. I was holding hands with Reaction Junkie and walking along, thinking about my life and how I’d missed having a group of friends (as in, a group of people who know each other, not just a bunch of friends from disparate sources) and about how I was feeling about the fact that I have multiple partners who I see regularly. The Unknown Quantity was walking next to Reaction Junkie and me and I took his hand, as well. It was partially because I was feeling affectionate, and, to be honest, partially because I liked the mental image of me walking along with someone on each arm. As we arrived at the restaurant, I enjoyed the reminder that my life is now filled to bursting with friends, partners, laughter, sex, play, conversation, and caring.

We arrived at the restaurant and made the correct life choice and sat outside. We started talking and I decided to show Reaction Junkie the post I’d written the night before. I slid my phone over to him and he started reading it. I told people a bit about my tumblr. Meanwhile, Reaction Junkie found the post about my first scene with The Unknown Quantity. Then one of my favorite experiences of the weekend happened. Gods, I like this kid.

After I grabbed my phone back from Reaction Junkie, I actually ended up handing it to the Unknown Quantity and letting him read the post. When he finished, I was feeling less embarrassed about my writing, so I gave the phone back to Reaction Junkie, kinda hoping he’d read something else. He scrolled through, looking at posts, and came across the one about the bladder control from the previous weekend. He read that one out loud to the table while I squirmed in discomfort and delight. I then shared my tumblr with people, including showing Cunt Destroyer the face hitting/gender traitor post that the kink shaming rad fems hate most. She very much enjoyed it, which I felt good about. It’s always nice to meet people who share your fucked up kinks.

The rest of dinner was fantastic. I got to feeling really comfortable with these folks and there was plenty of good conversation, teasing, flirting, cuddling, and laughter. It was chilly out, and The Unknown Quantity was cold, so I offered him my hoodie. He demurred, saying that I probably needed it more. Reaction Junkie told me I couldn’t wear it, and after a few more offers, The Unknown Quantity finally accepted it. Eventually I got cold, and we cuddled together for warmth. The Unknown Quantity had a dish with crispy noodles on it, and I asked if I could take some. He said that I could, and I grabbed some. Before I could eat them, however, he told me, “I said you could take them. Not that you could eat them.” I pouted, but put them down on my plate.

Not gonna lie, even though it can be annoying, I like when d-types get literal with requests. MLAM used to do this thing where I would ask if I could go to the bathroom when we were doing bladder control, and he would happily grant that request. Then, before I would leave, he would grin evilly at me and say, “But you can’t piss.” It was a nice little prod at me, getting my hopes up and dashing them, and it was controlling and made me more attentive to what I was asking from him, since I had to be more careful with my language. Throughout the meal, I asked if I could eat the noodles, and he repeatedly said no. I liked getting little denials of my wants every so often.

At one point, conversation turned to politics and, more specifically, elections and voting. I told Reaction Junkie about Breastie’s question about if I would have voted Republican had MLAM ordered me to, and about my response that yes, I would have. Reaction Junkie seemed to like the suggestion and said that he was going to make me vote Libertarian. I don’t think he was serious, but I hope he will force me to vote a certain way. I really like the idea of being made to do something like that. It’s against most things I stand for, it’s something I can’t take back, but it’s mostly symbolic, so the negative externalities are basically negligible.

After we all finished dinner, we paid and headed back to Reaction Junkie’s place. I grabbed the Mega Stuf Oreos and offered them around to people. There were only a few left, and once they were almost all gone, I went to grab the last one, saying, “I’m going to have this last one.” Both The Unknown Quantity and Reaction Junkie asked, “Are you?” I just looked at them and said, “Yes.” They tried to give me dommy looks and I just laughed and said, “I haven’t ceded control over my diet to either of you.” and ate the Oreo. I probably deserve funishment for my cheekiness, but they weren’t even mad.

I ended up talking with Reaction Junkie, one of Reaction Junkie’s other partners, and The Unknown Quantity for quite a while. When it was time to leave, The Unknown Quantity walked me to my car. As we walked, the topic turned to sex (of course). He said he wouldn’t object to having sex with me, and I said I’d have sex with him. he’s a great guy, and a legitimately interesting person.

The weekend was like a shock to my system, and my depressive episode, already weakened by that Monday night with Legolas, couldn’t fight back against all of the pain, pleasure, and feelings of connectedness and belonging that I had over those three days. I’m back to a more even keel, and my sex drive and ability to get off have definitely rebounded. I even hate work less! A giant thank you to the friends and partners (and also the medication refill) who helped me push through those depressed and isolated feelings to come out even happier and better off than I was before.