#the violinist

I’m having to pull an all-nighter for work because I’m doing a training all week, but someone still insisted that it was very important for me to do something for them, so that sucks.

On the other hand, I just had a very lovely evening with The Violinist where he came to my apartment (instead of me having to drive). When he first arrived, we talked about our days and he did some rope with me. Throughout the evening, I tried to be good about responding with his chosen honorific-type address, his name. Of course, I failed to do it consistently enough, and each time, he’d smack me hard on the sternum. I like to think I improved after the corrections. I know that I definitely felt more natural saying, “Yes, [The Violinist]” and “I’m glad, [The Violinist],” and such as the evening progressed. After he put on a chest harness that made taking deep breaths very difficult, he started hurting me, eliciting gasps and whimpers and yelps that made him grin.

Turned on by my suffering and the d/s-y use of his name, the obvious next step was for him to fuck me hard. He pushed in, clearly loving it, and told me, “I missed my cunt.” Then, when he flipped me over to fuck me from behind, he told me, “I missed your cunt.” I responded in kind, that I’d missed his cock. I loved hearing both of those things from him. It makes a girl feel good to know that her cunt is satisfying enough to miss. And it makes me happy to have someone say that it belongs to him, not to mention the second meaning of cunt that tells me he missed me. (Which he also said outright in a super adorable way, “I missed you. Like, way more than I thought I would.”)

He thrust deep, hurting me even more (better) in that position. He went hard and fast, and I pushed back into him, his cock slamming into me. He sped up, his breathing changed, and then he came, sliding in and out of me several more times as he did. He pulled out and we cuddled as he basked in his post-orgasm glow.

When he came out of it, we kept playing. He teased me and grabbed me and drew out some lovely pain noises as we kissed and touched each other. Eventually, he pushed my legs up and started slapping the backs of my thighs rapidly and hard. I gritted my teeth and groaned from the sting. When he stopped, he smiled at me and said, “What’s a warm up?” in a laughing tone of voice. I smiled back and said, “That is a warm up.” The way his eyes lit up almost made me regret saying that.

He repeated the treatment, and when he paused, I dropped my legs and rolled over onto my stomach, whimpering. He asked, “What?” and I pouted and said, “That hurt.” He laughed a little and replied, “I know. That’s why I did it.” Then he knelt on my shoulders, holding me firmly in place. I began to wince in anticipation, gasping when he moved. When he resumed smacking my thighs, I gripped the sheet and cried out. I was relieved when he started punching instead. He started pretty light, but as he got more comfortable with the position and my ability to take what he was doling out, he hit harder, alternating between the two legs.

Of course, he’d intersperse this delightful thuddy pain with more smacking, which made me thrash. To no avail, of course, since he was on top of me, keeping me where he wanted me. When he finally stopped, I turned over, laying on my back and looking at him. I said I’d enjoyed it, and he said, “Well, at least the punching.” I did like the punching more, but told him that I liked the slapping as well, since “I like bruises and slapping breaks things” (clearly coherent after that bit of impact play). I also said I liked the fact that he was on top of me, since it made it easier to take the pain. He lifted my legs to admire his handiwork and, after seeing that the right was more red than the left, asked me, “Should they be even?”

I cringed, not answering at first, but knowing full well that I would throw myself under the bus. I hemmed and hawed for a moment until he made me answer. I looked down and said in a small voice, “Yes, they should be even.” He was pleased, and lifted my leg back up. Instead of slapping it, he punched it, not starting soft this time. He punched repeatedly, hard enough that I could tell I wouldn’t be able to take it for very long, even though I like and can handle thuddy better. He was beating the shit out of me now, and clearly super into it. I teared up a bit from the pain and feeling bad about wanting to make him stop. I resisted safewording for a little, but as I turned onto my side and he held my leg in place, the pain and (totally unnecessary) guilty feelings about wanting to put an end to the impact made me start actually crying. I managed to whimper out, “Red, red!”

Without hesitation, The Violinist stopped immediately and lay behind me, holding me as I cried. I apologized for safewording, to which he responded, “No.” I know it’s not something to feel bad about or apologize for, but I did. I communicated that to him and told him that I was okay, I just needed it to stop. He was entirely understanding and reassured me repeatedly that it was fine and good for me to tap out when I need to. That’s obviously the response I should expect, but it’s nice to have it happen.

We cuddled, kissed, and played a little, and then he asked me if getting off would help me get work done. I said, “Whatever you want, [The Violinist],” and he told me to give him a real answer. “Well, it couldn’t hurt?” I responded. He laughed and told me I could masturbate. I caught the wording and asked if I could come.

“Ask again later,” came the obvious response. I lay back and pulled out my bullet, pressing it to my clit. The Violinist sat next to me and watched, slapping and punching my inner thigh occasionally, which both turned me on and distracted me. I settled into a groove and he got on top of me, pressing me into the bed, his thigh between my legs. I moaned and started fantasizing hard. My orgasm snuck up on me, and I almost forgot to ask permission. Almost.

I opened my eyes and asked, “May I please cum?” He responded, “Ask again later.” I tried again, with what I thought was a good enough correction, “May I please cum, [The Violinist]?” but he repeated his previous response. My eyes widened and I worried my orgasm would be ruined. I said, “May I please cum, [The Violinist]? [The Violinist], may I please cum? Please, [The Violinist], may I cum?].” It was some of the most genuine begging I’ve ever engaged in. I was frantic and heartfelt and incredibly desperate. [The Violinist] finally granted me permission and I got back into it. I started to cum and he wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing. I felt it in my head as my orgasm continued, and rode that lovely combination of sensations as long as I possibly could.

When I opened my eyes, [The Violinist] was looking at me. He looked pleased and said, “Your face when I told you to ask again…” he trailed off, closed his eyes, and made a pleased noise, like he was savoring the memory. Hearing him say that was a big turn on. I really enjoy how much pleasure he took from my reaction to him playing games with my head. Sadists are fun.

What a lovely evening. The fucking and the beating were quite satisfying, and I’m even optimistic that I’ll get bruises out of it. I’m so glad he came over. It was something that both of us needed, even outside of the fact that it was incredibly fun. It was a lovely preward (pre-reward?) for staying up all night doing work.

The Violinist tied me up and made me talk about my feelings tonight. I cried and shared how I feel like I’m not interesting, how I feel inadequate because I’m not interested in or into big showy scenes that involve a lot of roleplaying or acting. I want to be scared and be in pain and beg and apologize for something even though I don’t know what it is, yes. But I want all of that to come from a real place. For example, I want to do a scene where I get beaten and treated cruelly and told to admit wrong doing, or apologize for something, or any number of things that might happen in a more roleplay-y type scene, but I want to be sobbing and saying “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m no good at roleplaying. This isn’t the scene I wanted. This isn’t what I expected.” and then I want to get so desperate to make it stop that I beg and plead and say I’m sorry and admit guilt and so on.

He listened and engaged with me, and when I finished speaking, acknowledged my feelings as legitimate, while also pointing out that it’s perfectly fine for me not to want those more performative type scenes. He reassured me that I’m plenty of fun and that nobody complains about people not being up for certain things. We talked about it for a while longer, and then had a lovely rope and d/s-y scene. We finished up with a mini-rope lesson.

It was just what I needed. It helped me feel a lot better and was hella fun.

Yesterday I saw The Violinist. I went over to his place with the invitation to come over and “talk about things.” I correctly interpreted that as a desire to DTR, which I wanted to do, as well. When I got there, I stripped, per his rules for me, and we lay in bed for a while. Before we could talk, however, we needed to do a few things. He’d been out of town for a couple weeks, so we had to give each other a proper hello.

He hit me, bit me, scratched me and hurt me. I yelped, whimpered, squeaked, and made other delightful pain noises. He’s totally a sadist, which makes me eager to suffer for his pleasure. When he pushed his cock into me, the pain didn’t stop. He continued to hurt me as he fucked me hard. He pushed his fingers hard into my armpits, and the uncomfortable and painful sensation eventually caused me to struggle away. I took a few breaths and turned over onto my knees, which is a position I know he enjoys. He fucked me from behind until he came, slamming into my cunt and making me wince.

He collapsed onto my back, and I collapsed onto the bed. When we recovered enough to cuddle, I asked him if I could get off. He agreed, and I rubbed my clit and fantasized while he hurt and choked me. I came, shuddering and gasping, and lay back, spent. He instructed me that the next time, I was to ask permission right before I got off, and I smiled at the addition of another rule. We showered and headed back to bed to cuddle.

We talked about what our relationship is and what words we’re comfortable using (we’re dating and “partners” works). We made plans to spend more time together outside of kink events and happy hours and talked about what kind of kink relationship we want to develop. Both of us love d/s, and I’m excited to see where that dynamic goes. I asked about honorifics, and he had an interesting response. He likes having his name used. I was somewhat put out at first (I really like the term “Sir”), but when he explained his reasoning, I got into the idea. It’s something you can use in any context and around any people. Besides that, using someone’s name lets them know that you are thinking specifically about them. We also talked about jealousy and discussed how very important we both consider communication to be.

I left his place feeling de-stressed, happy, and ready for bed. Today I had to wear a high necked shirt and put makeup on my neck because he left a bite mark there. I also can’t take off my sweatshirt at work because he darkened the bruises that were there already and left me new scratch marks. DTRing can be fun!

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

Happy hour last Tuesday (8.26.2013) went well. I started the evening talking to Vegan Boy. After a little while, I noticed someone new to me, Mad Hatter, talking to someone new to the local scene about the community in the area and about poly stuff. Besides the fact that Mad Hatter and the girl he was talking with were both attractive, I thought the conversation sounded interesting and like I might have something to contribute to it. Vegan Boy and I joined in their conversation. At one point, Mad Hatter made a comment about some kind of fairly edgy play and laughed at the differences in the reaction I had versus the reaction the other girl in the conversation had. He seems fun and I think I’ll try to get to know him better. By which I mean play with him and/or have sex with him.

I was having such a good time talking to people that I decided to skip the class that was being offered upstairs. I went up to the bar to get another drink and The Violinist made a comment to me about something or other. I’d seen him around and talked with him a bit before. He’d seemed like someone I might enjoy playing with, so after we reintroduced ourselves, I invited him to leave the bar and come join me on the couch.

We started talking and eventually the conversation turned to our kinks, of course. He mentioned rope, but then emphasized a more sadistic side. Then he literally self-identified to me as a “reaction junkie.” Well, obviously my reaction was “Well, hello there!” He started messing with me a bit while we were sitting downstairs on the couch. Eventually, the class was over and we headed upstairs.

The Violinist started hitting my thighs, smacking them with the paddle and his fists. He put his hand around my throat, called me names, dug his nails in, and scratched me. I was squirming around his lap and making lovely little noises. While he was hurting me, we were also having some nice conversation and getting to know each other. At one point I looked over and noticed that Vegan Boy was patiently holding the water I’d told him to bring me. I eventually managed to tell The Violinist that I should give Vegan Boy some attention (also I wanted to hit the kid), and we made plans to go back to my place after happy hour.

I started playing with Vegan Boy. I was slapping and hitting his arms and thighs and built up to punching him. He actually had his clothes off this time, and I was eventually hitting him basically as hard as I could. He asked me if I wanted to spank him, and I said “Sure!” I wanted to have a spanking bench put together, so I turned to Vegan Boy and said, “Watch this.” I went over to one of the nice young men watching, and in a cute little voice, asked him if he would help me put together a spanking bench with the ottomans sitting around. He obviously said yes, because who can resist an adorable young woman asking for help making a piece of furniture so she can hit someone? Vegan Boy bent over, and I started spanking and hitting him. I even got to spend some more time punching him, and from this angle I was able to put my hips into it a little. I know I’m not super big and strong, but oof this guy can take a lot. I need to build up my own stamina so I can hurt him more. And I need to toughen up my poor hands.

At the end of the night, I went to the fast food place with The Violinist and a group of people. When we left to go to the train, he put his hand around the back of my neck and left it there the entire time, guiding me to the station. While waiting for the train, he kept hurting me, mostly by digging his nails in and dragging them along my skin. I really enjoyed the challenge of trying not to cry out in pain when he scratched me. When we got to our final stop, he put his hand back on my neck as we walked to the car.

When we got back to my place, we brushed our teeth and then he dragged me to the bed. While he was hitting me, he made me hump his leg continuously, and any time I’d stop, he’d remind me to start again. When I started doing it without being told, he’d say “Good bitch.” I really enjoyed that, actually. He kept referring to me that way when I did something he liked, like I was being a well-trained bitch. At the beginning of the night, he told me “I’m not going to hit you in the face” (that night). Of course, that didn’t stop me from flinching all over the place, since I was still coming down off spending a bunch of time with Reaction Junkie, who hit me in the face a bunch. And because I just get flinchy around people who hit me. The Violinist beat me and punched me and scratched me and slapped my tits. I was moaning and grinding on his leg like a bitch in heat. Then he bit my tit so hard I cried. The crying didn’t bother him, which was good, but I felt weird about it because it was the first time we’d hung out.

When I recovered from the crying, he hit me for a while longer and then growled, “Do you want to get fucked?” I immediately said “Yes please!” He grabbed a condom and started fucking me nice and hard. He asked at one point, “How important is it to you that you cum tonight?” I responded that it wasn’t important, unless it was important to him. When he heard that, he had me flip over and fucked me from behind until he came. Then we cuddled up and passed the fuck out.

In the morning, we woke up earlier than necessary, and I started grinding against him a little. He asked “You want it again?” Of course I did. I’m an insatiable slut! So he gave me a nice morning fuck. Then I gave him breakfast and drove him to the metro. Before he got out of the car, he said we should do something at an event, so I’m super excited for the next party because I love getting hurt in public. I’m pretty pleased with myself for being such a good slut, having my first real conversation with a guy and taking him home with me the same night. Now, that’s my kind of happy hour.

Part 3

In the morning, The Violinist and I both slowly woke up. I rolled over and gave him a good morning kiss. In return, he grabbed me and started hurting me. Sigh. How do I find such lovely men? He started punching my inner right thigh, working to “even out” the two sides of my body. I realized I had my mean paddle in my purse, so of course I told him. He pushed me towards my bag, telling me to retrieve it. I grabbed it and handed it to him. Next thing I knew, I was on my back and he was smacking my leg with the paddle. I fought not to make too much noise and grabbed a pillow to help me stay still. As he repeatedly hit my leg, I bit down on the pillow to stop myself from screaming.

When he finally stopped smacking my thigh, I needed a moment to catch my breath. He looked down at me, taking in my reactions to the treatment he was doling out, and grinned at me with a sadist’s grin. He leaned down and very lightly bit the bruise on my left inner arm that was the result of The Unknown Quantity’s rope. I yelped and pushed him away. I said, “Ouch! That really hurt. A lot.” He just laughed and hurt me some more.

All of my suffering was turning him on a lot. He grabbed a condom and started fucking me. I started rubbing my clit while he used my cunt. I don’t normally get off during piv for a number of reasons, but I thought it might be possible. Then he started making those kissing noises at me, instructing me to reach up and kiss him. This time, however, he was entirely out of reach. I whined at him and he told me to pick between kissing him and an orgasm. I responded, “A kiss!” and he let me reach up and grab his hair and pull him to me. I don’t regret that decision. I’m always really happy to find someone I actually enjoy making out with.

He motioned for me to assume the position, and I turned over, head down, ass up. Although he’d fucked me like that before, this time he took advantage of his knowledge that when he thrusts deep, it hurts. He fucked me so hard from behind and slammed into my cunt so deep that I actually pulled away a couple times. Each time I pulled away, I moved back, of course, because I know my place. I cried out and trembled, trying to handle his cock and not move. When he came, he came hard, making sexy noises and collapsing on top of me. I know he came hard because when he got up to deal with the condom, he couldn’t walk straight and almost tripped. Hee hee.

We cuddled and talked for a good while after that. He asked what I was doing after the next happy hour. I said I might be able to have him over, but I wasn’t sure. I do like this guy quite a bit, but I was, to be honest, leaving my night open for Reaction Junkie. I enjoyed The Violinist’s conversation and company a great deal, and I’m looking forward to getting to know him better and connect with him more. He’s mean and I like it. Eventually it was time to go, and he sent me off to see my parents covered in bruises I had to hide or brush off and feeling satisfied and happy.

Part 2

I drove The Violinist and myself back to his apartment. We stopped on the way to get food, since I was starving. The first thing he said when we walked through the door was, “Strip.” I smiled, relishing being ordered around. I took off my clothing and we talked and ate. He was sitting in a chair and instructed me to sit at his feet, which I appreciated. When we were done with the food, he grabbed me and tossed me onto the bed to start hurting me. He’s most definitely a sadist, judging by how thoroughly he was enjoying my reactions to the suffering he inflicted on me.

He pushed me over so that I was face up on the bed, and got on top of me. He’s a boney motherfucker, so when he jabbed his knees into my already tender thighs and leaned his weight on me, it hurt like hell. He was slapping my thighs and tits, and then started punching. The thighs I could handle, and, in fact, I like having my thighs punched. But the tits? Oof. I much prefer having them slapped. I felt his fist pounding my flesh and writhed and fought my instincts, trying to stay still.

Throughout all of this, and the rest of the night and the next morning, he would make kissing sounds at me, like you would make to get the attention of a dog or cat, and lean just out of reach. I’d have to stretch up, usually worsening whatever pain he was currently causing, and struggle to kiss him. I don’t like kissing most people most of the time, but I enjoyed both the belittling, degrading nature of the game and the way he kisses.

We have an ongoing joke that he needs to even out my bruises after he spent one night giving all of his attention to my left thigh. I foolishly pointed out the bruises on my upper inner left arm to him. He started to press on the bruise left by The Unknown Quantity’s rope, but I jerked away and told him it was incredibly painful. He was feeling magnanimous, I suppose, because instead of using those bruises against me, he grabbed my upper right arm and dig his thumb in. I thrashed around, but of course I had no hope of stopping him. He left two obvious thumb prints on my arm, which, in combination with the ones from The Unknown Quantity on my left arm, mean that I’m back to constantly wearing a sweater or hoodie at work.

The Violinist wasn’t done yet. Far from it. He started grabbing my sensitive thighs and digging his nails in. I struggled and half-tried to get away, making nosies that were much louder than they should have been. I pressed my face into the bed as The Violinist mercilessly squeezed my thighs. I tried and failed to stifle a half-groan, half-scream, and he pushed my head harder into the mattress. He continued to work at my legs with his hands and I kicked and struggled not to be too loud. As the pain grew, screams turned to whimpers, and whimpers into tears. I’d started crying.

While crying isn’t a safeword for me, upon making someone cry, some people choose to stop of their own volition, especially when the crying wasn’t expected. Although I know crying doesn’t bother him (he seems to enjoy it, in fact), The Violinist allowed me to have a chance to catch my breath and stop crying. When I had recovered, we got back into things, him hurting me, me making pain noises. Eventually, he pushed me towards the bathroom and told me to take out my tampon.

When I returned, I lay down on the bed and spread my legs for him. He pushed his cock into my cunt, and I moaned. He has a nice cock that hurts a bit when he pushes it in the whole way. When he discovered that I made pained expressions and noises when he did that, he was delighted. He fucked me hard, continuing to hurt my tits and slapping me in the face a few times. He motioned for me to flip over, and fucked me from behind until he came, groaning and panting.

When we’d both caught our breath, he let me go get my vibrator. He wouldn’t tell me that I had permission to cum before I got close, so I started masturbating with some trepidation. I hadn’t gotten off since the previous Monday, but this time, the arousal from the party and playing with The Violinist did the trick. Within a few minutes, I was close. “May I please cum?” I panted. He waited a couple of beats before giving me permission, and I came hard, shuddering and moaning. I continued to experience aftershocks from the orgasm for several minutes. We cuddled up and both passed out, exhausted from the evening.

Part 1

Anti-Feminist Libertarian Boy and I rejoined the party. We walked over to a group of happy hour folks and started talking. I really enjoy knowing a bunch of people, even if I’m shit at keeping names and faces straight. Boy Genius and I were slated to have a scene, so we started moving towards that goal. He got distracted talking to people, and while I was standing around watching, a guy I didn’t know came up and introduced himself. We got to talking and shared our kinks, and when caning came up, he asked if I wanted to be caned. I hesitated, unsure about doing impact with a total stranger, but then said that I would after my scene with Boy Genius. I looked over to him and signaled that I wanted to get started.

We walked over to the mat and I stripped. Boy Genius jokingly tried to engage my misogyny kink, but I told him “Don’t even try. That’s not your specialty.” He laughed and grabbed some rope. He tied me with my hands behind my back, arms bent, one elbow up, one down, and lowered me to the floor. He tied my legs tight and then grabbed them and put them on his shoulder. He doesn’t usually do impact, so I was pleasantly surprised when he started warming me up. He hit me with one of the quiet drumsticks (?) and spanked me. Then he pulled out a cane, which got me excited, since I do enjoy a good beating. He hit me a bunch, including a few times I briefly considered yellowing.

Finally, he had me pick a number between six and ten. I said “Seven.” “Are you sure?” he asked. I said yes, and he said “Okayyyy…” He hit me hard with the cane and said, “Seven!” loudly, followed less loudly by “Six, five, four, three, two, one.” With each number he said quietly, he struck me again, more softly. This wasn’t what I had been expecting, but I was pleasantly surprised. “Six!” Hard hit. “Five, four, three, two, one.” Softer hits. He repeated this down all the way to “One!” where he struck me the hardest. We ended the scene, chatted and laughed for a while, since I don’t really need aftercare for something like that, and then I went to find some more people to talk with.

I spent the rest of the night in conversation with people, some old, some new. At one point during the evening, I was talking with Reaction Junkie and Anderson Cooper. Reaction Junkie said that Anderson Cooper and I should play, and Anderson Cooper responded that he hadn’t topped in six months. Reaction Junkie responded, “Who said you’re topping?” and I told Anderson Cooper, “That’s pretty presumptuous. He offered you to me as a bottom.” I wouldn’t object to being topped by him, but he’s super fucking adorable, so I definitely want to try hurting him and ordering him around.

A little while after I returned from being outside, the guy who had asked if he could cane me earlier in the night must have noticed that I’d finished my scene with Boy Genius because he came over and asked if I was ready to play. I didn’t feel like it, but felt some weird internal pressure to do it since I’d said I would. I was about to go off with him, but then I decided to just be upfront and told him that I didn’t want to. He graciously accepted my decision and walked away. By this point, I had to pee, and since Reaction Junkie was there, I had to ask his permission. When I looked for him, however, he was busy, so I couldn’t ask. I told a couple people about it and they were highly amused by my discomfort. Ah, friendship.

As I looked around, I saw The Violinist sitting in a chair. We had plans to go back to his place after the party, and I’d seen him earlier in the evening and then lost track of him. When I walked up to say hello, he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap and continued his conversation. I listened to the conversation and participated a little for a while until Anderson Cooper walked over. The Violinist stood up for a hug. I was slightly off to the side, but I got pulled in between them and they squished me. Oh no, being the meat in a “dudes I’d totally bang” sandwich. Pure torture! I was pretty happy about it. The Violinist pulled me back onto his lap and, when I told him about having to piss but not being able to, he squeezed my bladder a little, which I enjoyed.

Finally, I saw that Reaction Junkie was free. I chased him down (Almost literally. I had to walk half way around the room because we were both going clockwise.) and asked for permission. He pointed at the bottle of water I was holding and told me, “Yes, but you have to finish that first.” I pouted briefly and he told me I could just go, but he’d given me the instruction and I wanted to be good, so I said, “No, I’m gonna do it.” I chugged the thing as quickly as I could and speedwalked through the rope, beatings, and naked folks to the bathroom.

When I was done, I headed back over to The Violinist. We decided it was time to go, and I started saying goodbyes to people. I saw The Unknown Quantity and walked up to him and gave him a hug. He’d been talking with The Queene, and she said, “No hug for me?” I gasped, apologized, and said of course there was a hug for her. I’m really happy that she seems to like me because she’s an awesome lady. I said bye to a couple other people, hugged Reaction Junkie and said goodnight, and then The Violinist headed to his place for more fun.

I just realized I haven’t really been kinking/playing with anyone besides Reaction Junkie lately. I’m not sure how much of that is lack of desire and how much is lack of opportunity. I do know I want to change it.

I did have a chance to play with The Violinist on Friday night, but I had a rough week, so I told him I wanted to keep things low key in the kink department. We ended up having a really great time. Lots of cuddling, watching TV, and, you know, doing sex to each other. It was a fantastic night, but, again, there wasn’t much kink happening.

Then, on Saturday, Reaction Junkie and I went to a party. I went to an educational and super interesting class on interrogations. Then I had a fun scene with Reaction Junkie. But afterwards I kind of shut down. I didn’t even talk to people much. In fact, I explicitly said I didn’t want to talk to people, which my amazing friends accepted without being bothered in the slightest. I wish I’d made some sort of attempt to play, but I could barely look at anyone.

I’m going to a huge con the weekend after next, and I hope I’m in a good place. I neef to start making more concrete plans with people, and asking some people if they want to play. I’ve kind of left it until late to ask people, but I hope I can at least have people to hang out with and cuddle with while I’m not with Reaction Junkie. I’m going to need to be distracted. I really do want to meet some new people, too, if only because that will be fun and make me feel good about myself.

I’d love to get plenty of play that weekend. I do have plans with Vegan Boy, Queene, and plans I need to solidify with a new friend whose nickname is TBD. And it’s possible The Unknown Quantity will have time for me, and maybe Legolas, but I’m not holding my breath. Plus, I do have friends there to hang out with, and a few people to play or at the at cuddle with (Anderson Cooper, Boy Genius, and some other people I know but haven’t asked/am being too shy to ask) who I still need to talk to.

I do wonder if anyone on here is going.

Anyway, there’s my feels dump for the day. I’m aiming to post a story about my first date with Reaction Junkie later today. Or at least a nude or something. :P

Navel-gazing intensifies.

My roommate, Sunny, is dating/repeatedly hanging out with Boy Genius, The Unknown Quantity, and The Violinist.

First, I want to say that I’m happy for her that she has people. She has a lot of not great stuff in her life, so I’m glad that there are people she can spend time with and rely on.

But. I’m envious. Because she’s getting all of this play with different people, yes. But more than that, these are three people I used to have some sort of relationship with, either dating or play. And with each person, it ended because I wasn’t interested enough/didn’t give them enough priority, and not even necessarily out of an actual lack of interest, or at least not a long-lasting lack of interest.

Honestly, it was starting to date Reaction Junkie, combined with my spiral into depression, that ended each of those relationships. Plus some individual/specific things with each person. And I regret it.

With Boy Genius, Reaction Junkie didn’t like him for various reasons. He never told me to stop spending time with or playing with Boy Genius, but his opinion influenced my opinion and my actions, and I started doing less and less with Boy Genius. Reaction Junkie has since changed his opinion, and I did make an attempt to start playing with Boy Genius again a few months ago, but didn’t keep up with it. To be honest, that’s partially because, while I enjoy the play we did, he’s not quite as mean as I prefer. But it’s also because I spiraled into depression further.

With The Unknown Quantity, we played at events a bunch and I went to his place once. Then I guess I stopped going out as much because of depression and spending all my time with Reaction Junkie, and we didn’t play for a while. We attempted to get together again at one point, but by then neither of us was prioritizing the other. I was okay with that since it was equal. But more recently, I’ve made several attempts to play with him at events. I texted him beforehand expressing an interest in playing, but I never even got a response or an acknowledgement that I’d said anything. That really sucks. Being rejected, and being ignored. A month or so ago, I was at dinner with him and a few other people, including Sunny. At the end of the night, she asked The Unknown Quantity if he wanted to get together. He said yes, and that he was busy, but that he had time for her the next week. After they made their plans, I went up to him and asked if he wanted to get together. He said he was busy and didn’t have any time for the next month and a half. Well, fuck you, too. That really hurt, to see him make time for someone, and then the next moment to have him brush me off.

With The Violinist, I was the shittiest. We were dating for a few months, at least. We actually started dating not long after I started seeing Reaction Junkie. Which was not long before I started getting super depressed. Those things in combination meant that I didn’t treat The Violinist very well. I wasn’t doing poly well. Part of that was depression, yes, but part of it was me just not giving The Violinist the time and attention I should have. I kept canceling on him and didn’t make plans with I’m enough or spend enough time with him when we did get together. We actually got quite close. He knew all about my jealousy problems, and he talked them through with me. We spent a lot of good times together, but I wasn’t in a place where I could truly appreciate him. It took me far, far too long to realize that I shouldn’t have been dating someone else while in the throws of NRE and depression. We had a few conversations about our relationship, including one where we talked about spending less time together, but I really regret not figuring things out more quickly, and not having the guts to be as open and upfront as I should have been. I wish that I had told him I wanted to end things for the time being because I knew I wasn’t giving him the time and attention he deserved, and that I hoped that, once I was doing better, we could try again. I really, truly regret not having told him that.

I wish I could fix things with these people for a couple reasons. The primary one is, I admit, quite self-centered. I want more people to play with at happy hour and at events, both because I like playing with different people and because I know that when I play with other people and have fun, I have a much much easier time dealing with it when Reaction Junkie does things with other people. I’ve been hanging out with a couple of really awesome people lately (Not A Tumblr Dom and a great guy from okc/happy hour who has yet to be nicknamed), but they don’t come to happy hour, at least not regularly, and they don’t really come to events. Between Boy Genius and The Violinist, they come to happy hour pretty much every week, and The Unknown Quantity goes to a lot of events.

Besides just wanting more people to play with in general, I also miss playing with these people specifically. Even besides play, I don’t really interact with these people much any more, probably mostly because I feel awkward around them. I know that I have very compatible play interests with The Violinist and The Unknown Quantity. They both do mean rope (and are good at it) and they’re sadistic. I always really enjoyed the play I did with them; it’s exactly the kind of play I’m looking for. Even with Boy Genius, be is quite good at rope, and I had fun when I played with him, even if it didn’t exactly scratch my itch for pain.

Outside of play, these are all great people. I like talking with them and I really did enjoy spending time with them, and I miss it. Especially with The Violinist. We spent more time together than I did with anyone else except Reaction Junkie, and we had a lot of good times.

I get really envious of Sunny and the time she gets to spend with these people and the play she does with them. It makes me feel shitty about myself because I want to get more play and want to be wanted AND it reminds me of the fact that I wasn’t a good friend/play partner/partner to them. I want to ask them to play, but I think I’ll get rejected, and, honestly, I can’t blame them, especially The Violinist. I think I will try talking to them, especially Boy Genius and The Violinist, more at happy hour, though. Maybe I can start repairing the friendships/relationships I had with them.

I had an awesome scene with The Violinist at happy hour last night. He tied me in a position that was uncomfortable and challenging, but not unsustainable. That meant I stayed in it for the entire time, which was fantastic, since that doesn’t happen all the time.

Once his rope was on me, he started moving me around. I was laying over his lap, and he pushed me and pulled me, even scaring me by making me think I was going to fall off the couch by allllmost letting me go over the edge.

He grabbed my right leg, which was tied to my bent left leg and my right arm, and pulled it up, pushing me on my back and causing the pressure on the ropes to increase. He smacked my ass a few times, and then started punching. All of a sudden he spun me around so I was facing the other direction, and resumed hitting me.

The punches were landing not on the soft fleshy/muscley part of my ass, but a little to the side, on a more boney section. That meant they hurt more. He punched me a few more times, and then pushed my leg up further to get even better access. That’s when he started using things other than his fists.

First he threw in a few elbows, and then he started kneeing me. I was already making some pretty good pain sounds, but when his knee hit my ass, I got even louder. After a couple more times, I started gulping back sobs and holding in tears. The Violinist noticed and asked, “Are you going to cry?” I nodded and he told me that was fine, I could cry, and kept going.

He kneed me again and the tears started to form. The Violinist looked at me and said, “Oh, I guess you need more to cry.” He did it again, hard, and the tears started to fall. “Need another?” he asked. I considered for a split second and decided I could take a little more for him, so I shakily held up one finger and said, “One more?” He kneed me one final time, really hard.

We calmed down for a bit after that. I asked if I could have some water and The Violinist of course said yes. He handed it to me and I drank some. When I was done, he started easing back into things, laying on top of me, messing with the position of my limbs to make the tension in the ropes increase and decrease, hurting me more and less.

Then he hauled me up so that I was kneeling on the couch. He moved around me and started hitting my back, which is a surefire way to send me on the path to subspace. He smacked me a few times across the middle of my back, increasing the strength as he went. Then he punched me on the back of my shoulder and I fell forward against the back of the couch.

He continued punching me in the back, towards the bottoms of my shoulder blades. My hair fell over my face, which was pressed into the back of the couch as I gritted my teeth and started to cry again. Being hit in the back, especially where he was hitting me, does me a frighten, even though I’m quite confident in The Violinist’s abilities and experience. That, plus the fact that I get a little light-headed with repeated strikes to the upper back, is part of what puts me in a subby headspace, so I love it, but it does also mean that I can’t take too much of that kind of impact.

The Violinist knows this, and did a very good job of reading me and figuring out when I was done without me feeling the need to even think “Yellow,” He finished with a particularly hard punch that made me gasp. Then he moved around to the front of me and pushed my hair back so he could see my face. He smiled at me and said, “There you are.” I gave him as shaky smile back.

He helped me back into a kneeling position. As I looked at him he moved my hair around, placing it where he wanted it and then sat back and said, “You look pretty.” Now, a while ago when I was closer with him and kinda doing a d/s-y thing with him, I learned that The Violinist’s preferred honorific is his name. So something like, “Yes, [The Violinist].” I hear my roommate, Sunny, use it all the time since they do have a dynamic. Through much of the scene last night, I’d been thinking about using it, although I wasn’t sure if I should, so I hadn’t yet. However, after the beating and the lovely headspace it produced, I was in such a subby place that almost without thinking, I replied, “Thank you, [The Violinist]” and looked up at him. He seemed pleased and I felt happy with my choice.

The rest of the scene was spent with The Violinist and I making out and him being rough with me. He grabbed me and scratched me and threw me around a bit. As with the beating, he did a really good job of pushing me up to a limit and then backing off before it got to be too much. At one point, he was grabbing my tits and squeezing them, which is something that is difficult for me to take much of. He was getting really into it and was going hard enough that I started to consider saying something when I saw him realize he was pushing my limits. He visibly took control of himself and eased off. The fact that he was able to keep my needs in mind while getting so into his sadism made me feel confident in him as a play partner and eager to bottom for him again.

Aftercare was him slowly undoing the rope while we cuddled and kissed and talked. We made plans to hang out the weekend after this one. Just as it had been while we were playing, during aftercare I thought very little, if at all, about anything outside of our interaction. The whole scene was amazing and got me out of my head and into a happy mental state perfectly.

I’m actually excited about something! On Saturday, I’m going to a play party. But this isn’t just any play party. No, this play party I decided to make awesome, so I invited three of my lady friends/play partners/???? to come with me. And they all are!

That means I’m going to roll up to the party with three gorgeous women, Sunny, Radical Girl, and A (I need a better nickname but I’m tired). And I’m going to play with all of them. I imagine I’ll be topping for the most part. I know Sunny wants to be a bit of a spectacle, so I’m definitely going to fuck her shit up with impact and sadistic rope. I intend to bruise, and bruise well.

As for Radical Girl and A, I’ve mostly done impact and rope with them, as well, so I think that’s what I’ll be doing. But now my rope comes with partial suspensions! I’ve been going through rope posts on here and reblogging things on my rope sideblog to come up with some pretty/sadistic/predicament-y ties, and I have some fun/mean things in mind.

I may also see if Radical Girl wants to hit me a bit, too, maybe do a bit of switching mid-scene, depending on how she’s feeling. Normally I would also say I want to wrestle with someone, but I messed up my foot wresting at camp, so that’s out.

The Violinist is also probably going to catch a ride with me, which means I’ll have a car full of awesome people. And I’m going to ask him to do sadistic rope on me. It’s been forever!

Aaaaand Magpie will be there with his wax, so I’ll probably bottom for that that and some impact with him.

I think this is going to be an exhausting, but hella fun, Saturday. I mayyy have to see about doing some co-topping, so I don’t wear out too quickly.

Before happy hour last night, Reaction Junkie and I attempted to go to this awesome new vegan place in the city. I led us on a wild goose chase to the location that was 1) Farther away from where happy hour is and 2) Not even open yet. Sigh. I was pretty embarrassed/mad at myself and decided to go to the location near happy hour (and by near it is literally a 1 minute walk from where happy hour is and you can see it from happy hour and oh gods I’m so bad at life sometimes) by myself and let Reaction Junkie start his night. As soon as my food came I cheered right the fuck up. A chicken burger with ranch, buffalo chicken wings, and spicy chocolate cake? Yes please! So fucking awesome.

When I got to happy hour, I was still feeling a little socially uncomfortable, so i drank my first drink pretty quickly, and wandered over to talk to people. MLAM had texted me about a girl, Pearl, who was new to happy hour and she and I had talked a little via text. When I found her, Reaction Junkie had already figured out who she was, and we all started talking. She’s great! She was fun to talk to, engaged, and interesting. MLAM is kind of ridiculous, helping me make a friend even when he’s not there. In fact, part of my conversation with her resulted in me talking to even more people and making more new friends, so he helped me make more than one friend.

After a little while, we all headed upstairs to watch Reaction Junkie tie up Kitten. While we watched, I started chatting with Pearl and other people, and by the end of the evening, we’d all (including Reaction Junkie and Kitten) bonded over the idea of sneaky drinking in public and wandering around the city some weekend soon. Reaction Junkie doesn’t drink (Useful! It’s one of the reasons I keep him around.), so he will be tasked with herding us cats, but he likes cats, so that’s all good.

Towards the end of the evening, The Violinist dragged me away to do a mini scene. He’d gotten me in rope for a little while on Saturday before I had to abort the scene, and was eager to get me in it again, because, as he said, “You really like being in rope, I could tell at the start.” He tied my arms behind my back and then made fun of me for being so turned on and grinding against him while straddling him. He teased me, both physically and mentally, hurt me, scratched me, grabbed me, bit me hard enough and long enough to leave marks, and kissed me a lot.

During our aborted scene on Saturday, The Violinist told me that he wanted to spend more time with me. The way he said it made me think he’d been thinking about it for at least a little while, and I was super happy to hear him say it. I definitely squeed inside. I told him I’d like to spend more time with him, as well. I think my dynamic with him is becoming more of a dating/relationship/partner thing than just (not just in a bad way, play partners are awesome!) a play partner thing.

So, while we were playing at happy hour, I was thinking about that, and about the fact that he’s leaving soon for a two week long road trip. As we made out and The Violinist hurt me, I said that I would miss him while he was gone. He kind of laughed at me, gave me a look, kissed me, and then said, “I suppose I’ll kind of miss you, too.” I grinned and looked at him, skeptical about the qualifications. I told him he should text me and that I’d send nudes whenever he wanted. He considered this and said I better do it every day. He gave me an assignment! I love assignments! Being given small, fairly simple tasks to do, especially to do daily, is something I really like. Assignments serve as a nice reminder of my role that I can get even when I’m not physically with a partner, and I feel warm and subby when I am given one, and then again, while I’m completing it.

The Violinist and I made out, talked, and cuddled until it was time to go to the fast food place next door. I said a final goodbye to him and headed over. There was more fun conversation to be had there, and then Reaction Junkie, Kitten, and I grabbed the train back to Reaction Junkie’s place. We’d had plans for a while to do another cuddle sleepover with all three of us, so this time I was prepared and ready. When we got on the train, there weren’t any spots where three open seats were near each other, but a guy got up and gave us his seat, so we all got to sit together. Reaction Junkie was oh so pleased for bringing home to sexy women. He’s pretty adorable.

We had some more great, if possibly too loud, conversation on the train on the way home. We got back and got ready for bed, and then started discussing sleeping arrangements. I had said I wanted to be in the middle, and I stuck with that. Normally I’m actually somewhat uncomfortable cuddling with people I’m not having sex with, for whatever reason (physical affection-deprived childhood??? weird issues with touching people??? idk), but this time I decided just to try it and see how I’d feel. Kitten was the littlest spoon, then me, then Reaction Junkie. I put my arm around Kitten and Reaction Junkie put his arm around both of us. I felt surprisingly at ease and comfortable with the physical contact. We flipped around a couple times, and got hella warm because there were three of us in bed, but I really enjoyed it. Kitten told me the next morning that I’m comfortable, which made me happy. She’s awful comfortable, too.

This situation with Kitten and Reaction Junkie is basically perfect training wheels to deal with jealousy and figuring out my feelings and how to be comfortable being around a partner and a metamour. She’s not exactly a metamour since she isn’t looking for a relationship and isn’t poly, which makes it easier to sort out my reactions. We’re going to have another cuddle threesome on Friday. This time, instead of feeling somewhat negatively about it, like the first time, or mostly neutral, like on Tuesday, I’m really looking forward to it.

Two Sundays ago, I spent the evening and the night with The Violinist. The first thing he did when I walked in the door was to institute a new rule. When I’m in his apartment, I’m not to wear any clothing. I grinned (I love rules like that) and stripped. We talked for a little while, and then he picked me up, threw me onto the bed, and we started to play. There was lots of impact, grabbing, scratching, squeezing, and fucking. It was mean, painful, frightening, and hot.

My favorite part of the play we did involved a little game The Violinist was on top of me, pinning my arms and legs down with his legs. I had told him I wouldn’t be able to take as much impact on my right tit as the left because Reaction Junkie had focused on that side the night/day before. The Violinist slapped my left tit hard, kissed me, and then slapped me again. Kiss, slap, kiss, slap, kiss, slap. The switch between the painful impact and the enjoyable kissing threw me for a mental loop, even besides the obvious physical pain. I started trembling, whimpering, and flinching whenever he came in for a kiss.

Finally, he stopped, and I thought it was over. He made out with me, and I relaxed a little until he sat up and said, “That was ten kisses.” My eyes went wide, and I started shaking. These were not little slaps he was going to do. He was going to hit my tit hard, many times in a row. He started slapping, and I fought the urge to cry out. He did five in a row and then paused. I was starting to cry as he began again, completing the other five slaps.

Then he kissed me again. I tried to move my head, desperate to avoid more pain (terrible plan, I know). He forced me to let him kiss me, and then administered five more good hard slaps to my left tit. I was crying pretty hard by this point. He looked at me, pleased with his work, and said, “I think that’s enough for now.” I nodded, unable to answer verbally.

After I’d recovered, I wanted to check in with him, so I asked, “You don’t mind tears, do you?” He smiled and responded, “I like tears.” I like a sadist who enjoys the products of his labor.