I was tired on Friday night, the lazy kind of tired that just melted me into the mattress and made me part of the furniture. Aiden dealt with it perfectly - he got out the rope and tied me up, my forearms together behind my back and my left leg so that my heel touched my ass. He left my right leg free, but I wouldn't say I was in danger of actually getting away. Then he rolled me onto my back, spread my legs, and started eating me.
My shoulders weren't thrilled with the new requirement, and I had to hold my spine off my wrists to relieve the strain on the bones of my right arm, but I'm not complaining...not at all. I'm reasonably adept at slithering out of various forms of physical entrapment, but I didn't stand a chance against his shibari. Struggling against the ropes, knowing I couldn't get out, reveling in the feeling of being completely under Sir's control and at his mercy...that no matter how hard I fought him, I would lose before I began...
I'm getting wet again just thinking about it. I love when something works that well the first time. I can't wait for more.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Fight, Flight, or Fun
We were spending a lazy afternoon on the couch after a beautiful day of tubing on the river. Shelby was in the kitchen mixing drinks, and Aiden had taken a moment to pull me into a long, slow kiss. Suddenly I felt his hand brush my forehead and then he pinched my nose shut, sealing off my mouth with his and drawing the breath out of me.
It's going to be okay, I told myself, trying not to fight him. I shifted my position so I was lying straighter. This is not worthy of panic. You know he won't kill you.
I held on, focusing on his tongue to keep my body from reacting instinctively, and a moment later he let go.
"It's amazing how much more strongly you react to that than you do to me choking you," he said with a grin. "I can feel your fight-or-flight response."
Even reminiscing now, more than twelve hours later, I feel the need to go take a few deep breaths.
It's going to be okay, I told myself, trying not to fight him. I shifted my position so I was lying straighter. This is not worthy of panic. You know he won't kill you.
I held on, focusing on his tongue to keep my body from reacting instinctively, and a moment later he let go.
"It's amazing how much more strongly you react to that than you do to me choking you," he said with a grin. "I can feel your fight-or-flight response."
Even reminiscing now, more than twelve hours later, I feel the need to go take a few deep breaths.
Waking [fiction]
a story by Skylar
The fog was warm, and dark. There was no sound, no light, no sense of my surroundings. The thick air flowed over my skin, caressing me, keeping me suspended in what might have been sleep. Was I asleep? I wasn’t sure, and it didn’t much matter. I took a slow breath, enjoying the comforting nothing holding onto me.
Suddenly a point on my upper back lit into a burning sensation, then started to drip downward. I gasped and my eyes flew open. There was nothing but blackness in front of me, a mystery beyond a wall of light that grew from a circle of candles at my feet. They were without holders, supported on the concrete floor by large puddles of their own wax.
I tried to put a hand on my back, where the burning was continuing on a slow, excruciating path down the right side of my spine, but my hand wouldn’t obey me. Neither would the other hand, and when I tried to bend forward, the floor refused to come any closer. I could turn my head just far enough to see my arms outstretched to my sides, thick black stripes around my wrists and upper arms. Whatever I was fastened to was hidden by the shadow of my own body.
The drop of fire on my back took a detour to my ribs, stopped momentarily, then began again in a different direction. With a great effort I managed to curve my spine and shift to the side a little bit.
“Don’t move.” The voice was right in my ear, and I started.
“What -” I said, and was immediately cut off by a hand over my mouth. “Mmf. Hm!”
“Shhh.” His hand gripped tighter, pressing my lips into my teeth. “If you move, I can’t finish my work.”
I looked sideways, but couldn’t turn my head far enough to see him. “Hm.”
“Are you going to be a good girl and hold still?”
I nodded.
“Good.” His hand came off my mouth, and I took a deep breath as the fiery point made itself known on my left shoulder blade. It traveled at a leisurely pace across my upper back, made a turn on my right shoulder blade, crossed my spine on a downward angle, and slithered down to the center of my sacrum, where it faded away. The trail it left glowed hot in my skin. Soothing warmth spread downward from the searing lines, and I enjoyed it for a moment before it was overpowered by a new journey starting at my neck.
I tried to make sense of the patterns forming on my back, but couldn’t construct an image I recognized. Lost in following the trails, alternately wincing as the lines formed and then reveling in the warming glow they left, it took me several moments to realize it had stopped.
Peeling my eyes open again, I drew in a sharp breath when I found his face a centimeter from mine. I don’t know how I hadn’t felt him breathing on my lips.
He smirked as I drew his face into focus, and his eyes narrowed into an expression that spoke of dark ideas. A shiver went down my spine and between my legs.
His lips parted, and I opened my mouth to return the kiss, but my tongue was met with metal. The warm, smooth surface was topped with a razor-sharp edge. He drew the blade slowly between our tongues, and the metallic taste mingled with that of my own blood. My heartbeat quickened; I could feel his tongue over the edge of the knife, but didn’t dare move any closer.
After a long moment the edge shifted, and then the tip drew away, leaving only an impression of itself. The blade gone, our tongues melted together, and I tasted sweat alongside the blood. Then he stepped away and disappeared.
“Aiden?” I whispered. One of the candles guttered and went out, and I realized it wasn’t the first. The darkness flowed over me again, and I sank into the fog.
The fog was warm, and dark. There was no sound, no light, no sense of my surroundings. The thick air flowed over my skin, caressing me, keeping me suspended in what might have been sleep. Was I asleep? I wasn’t sure, and it didn’t much matter. I took a slow breath, enjoying the comforting nothing holding onto me.
Suddenly a point on my upper back lit into a burning sensation, then started to drip downward. I gasped and my eyes flew open. There was nothing but blackness in front of me, a mystery beyond a wall of light that grew from a circle of candles at my feet. They were without holders, supported on the concrete floor by large puddles of their own wax.
I tried to put a hand on my back, where the burning was continuing on a slow, excruciating path down the right side of my spine, but my hand wouldn’t obey me. Neither would the other hand, and when I tried to bend forward, the floor refused to come any closer. I could turn my head just far enough to see my arms outstretched to my sides, thick black stripes around my wrists and upper arms. Whatever I was fastened to was hidden by the shadow of my own body.
The drop of fire on my back took a detour to my ribs, stopped momentarily, then began again in a different direction. With a great effort I managed to curve my spine and shift to the side a little bit.
“Don’t move.” The voice was right in my ear, and I started.
“What -” I said, and was immediately cut off by a hand over my mouth. “Mmf. Hm!”
“Shhh.” His hand gripped tighter, pressing my lips into my teeth. “If you move, I can’t finish my work.”
I looked sideways, but couldn’t turn my head far enough to see him. “Hm.”
“Are you going to be a good girl and hold still?”
I nodded.
“Good.” His hand came off my mouth, and I took a deep breath as the fiery point made itself known on my left shoulder blade. It traveled at a leisurely pace across my upper back, made a turn on my right shoulder blade, crossed my spine on a downward angle, and slithered down to the center of my sacrum, where it faded away. The trail it left glowed hot in my skin. Soothing warmth spread downward from the searing lines, and I enjoyed it for a moment before it was overpowered by a new journey starting at my neck.
I tried to make sense of the patterns forming on my back, but couldn’t construct an image I recognized. Lost in following the trails, alternately wincing as the lines formed and then reveling in the warming glow they left, it took me several moments to realize it had stopped.
Peeling my eyes open again, I drew in a sharp breath when I found his face a centimeter from mine. I don’t know how I hadn’t felt him breathing on my lips.
He smirked as I drew his face into focus, and his eyes narrowed into an expression that spoke of dark ideas. A shiver went down my spine and between my legs.
His lips parted, and I opened my mouth to return the kiss, but my tongue was met with metal. The warm, smooth surface was topped with a razor-sharp edge. He drew the blade slowly between our tongues, and the metallic taste mingled with that of my own blood. My heartbeat quickened; I could feel his tongue over the edge of the knife, but didn’t dare move any closer.
After a long moment the edge shifted, and then the tip drew away, leaving only an impression of itself. The blade gone, our tongues melted together, and I tasted sweat alongside the blood. Then he stepped away and disappeared.
“Aiden?” I whispered. One of the candles guttered and went out, and I realized it wasn’t the first. The darkness flowed over me again, and I sank into the fog.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
What's Beyond Ouch
We were eating dinner on Friday night when we heard...thunder? Gunfire? Fireworks. The three of us took a walk outside to see what we could see, and found traffic piling up on the bridge over the dam where other people had found a good view. They were at least a town away, but possibly even more beautiful at that distance with the water framing the explosions from the bottom.
When the show was over, we walked back, and Shelby tried to pull off my panties from under my dress while I was walking. They got twisted up but didn't come off, and as I was trying to fix them so I could walk correctly, Aiden grabbed a handful and finished the job. I was talking non-stop about something - possibly the removal of my lacy underthings - and he wadded them up and stuffed them in my mouth. He left two fingers inside the wad of black silky fabric, using them to lead me like a bit. Shelby wondered aloud if the occupants of any passing cars might call the cops, as Aiden was holding my head at an odd angle that turned my walking stride into a following-along stumble. I tried to say that I was laughing too hard to cause anyone legitimate concern, but it came out, "Mmm hmmm mff!"
As soon as the front door closed behind us, Aiden shoved me into the dining alcove, placing my hands flat on the table and my head in between them. He pulled up my dress and proceeded to spank me, a couple of times lightly and then harder. His hand made a thorough journey over both of my cheeks and my thighs, hard enough that I stood up, protesting the pain.
"Excuse you!" he said indignantly, pausing to stare at me, and I put my elbows and face back on the table, awaiting my punishment. It would be worse now than if I had just stayed where I was. I tried to relax, knowing it would hurt more if I tensed up. Shelby, sitting in a chair to my right, reached under my chest and started pinching my nipples.
"You're being mean," she said to him as he worked low on my thighs, and I squeaked and scooted the table across the floor.
"I don't think she minds," he said.
"Oh, I didn't say to stop. I just said you're mean."
After he again worked over my thighs and ass, Aiden stopped for a moment and walked away. I heard the drawer of the freezer open in the kitchen. I think Shelby asked if I was ready for ice, and I tried to say I didn't have much of a choice, but I still couldn't talk. She reached over and pulled out my gag, and Aiden returned a moment later and iced me down, freezing the heat off my skin until cold water ran down my legs. I lost track of the ice cube when it touched my lips; he may have put it inside me, but I'm not sure. He definitely put his fingers in.
I moaned. The finger-fucking was a beautiful relief from the spanking, at least for a moment, until he added a fourth finger and then his thumb. I knew what I was in for when he said to Shelby, "She's fighting with the knuckles on my hand." I tried to relax, but I'm not sure how successful the effort was.
He grabbed my hip, or maybe it was my shoulder, and pulled me around. "Flip over." I felt like I'd been glued to the table; turning myself face-up was a struggle, made harder by Aiden's hand still inside me. "Up on the table."
My memory at this point becomes a bit blurry. There was the sound of the table objecting to unusually violent use. Me reaching over my head and putting my hands on the window. Shelby joking that he was going to put me through said window. Fighting the sensation that I was going to throw up by reminding myself that the violation in progress had nothing to do with my stomach no matter how it might feel. And lots and lots of pain.
I felt tears coming on, and I accepted it, but never quite made it to actually crying. I couldn't stop gasping long enough. At some point it occurred to me that I should have the safe word handy, but I couldn't think of what it was. I let it go and then circled back around to it. What the hell was it again? A sensation floated into my head that described a set of three, and after letting it sit for another moment, I remembered we have a three-part safe word: red light, yellow light, green light. Red was the one I was looking for, but I didn't use it, just let it float nearby in case I needed the life raft.
I have no idea how much time went by while Aiden worked me with his fist. I wanted it to be over, but not enough to actually end it. "I think I need to say 'yellow light' for her," Shelby said eventually, and everything stopped. I took a deep, shaky breath, hanging in the sudden void. The rest of the sensation in my body reappeared slowly, and I floated up to the sound of Aiden's voice.
"You did so well," he said, sounding like he was on the verge of giggles. "I didn't know I could do that to you!"
I wanted to ask what his new discovery was, but didn't have the words.
"Sit up," he told me.
"Why..."
"Come on. Come here, into my arms."
Shelby helped me upright, nuzzling her head into my side and putting her arm around my back. Aiden leaned over me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His smile was beautiful.
I was shaking and just trying to breathe, and realized that at some point I must have cried because my face was wet. I held onto both of their hugs like I was rediscovering life.
Eventually the promise of bed lured me off the table, and Shelby grinned at me when I walked into the circle of lamplight in the kitchen.
"You have the best battered-woman cry-eyes right now," she said, and I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture for my own inspection. I did indeed have huge black circles under my eyes.
"You have no idea," Aiden said to me the next day, "How much I loved those overwhelmed tears streaming down your face."
I had to agree; there's no reason I'd rather cry.
When the show was over, we walked back, and Shelby tried to pull off my panties from under my dress while I was walking. They got twisted up but didn't come off, and as I was trying to fix them so I could walk correctly, Aiden grabbed a handful and finished the job. I was talking non-stop about something - possibly the removal of my lacy underthings - and he wadded them up and stuffed them in my mouth. He left two fingers inside the wad of black silky fabric, using them to lead me like a bit. Shelby wondered aloud if the occupants of any passing cars might call the cops, as Aiden was holding my head at an odd angle that turned my walking stride into a following-along stumble. I tried to say that I was laughing too hard to cause anyone legitimate concern, but it came out, "Mmm hmmm mff!"
As soon as the front door closed behind us, Aiden shoved me into the dining alcove, placing my hands flat on the table and my head in between them. He pulled up my dress and proceeded to spank me, a couple of times lightly and then harder. His hand made a thorough journey over both of my cheeks and my thighs, hard enough that I stood up, protesting the pain.
"Excuse you!" he said indignantly, pausing to stare at me, and I put my elbows and face back on the table, awaiting my punishment. It would be worse now than if I had just stayed where I was. I tried to relax, knowing it would hurt more if I tensed up. Shelby, sitting in a chair to my right, reached under my chest and started pinching my nipples.
"You're being mean," she said to him as he worked low on my thighs, and I squeaked and scooted the table across the floor.
"I don't think she minds," he said.
"Oh, I didn't say to stop. I just said you're mean."
After he again worked over my thighs and ass, Aiden stopped for a moment and walked away. I heard the drawer of the freezer open in the kitchen. I think Shelby asked if I was ready for ice, and I tried to say I didn't have much of a choice, but I still couldn't talk. She reached over and pulled out my gag, and Aiden returned a moment later and iced me down, freezing the heat off my skin until cold water ran down my legs. I lost track of the ice cube when it touched my lips; he may have put it inside me, but I'm not sure. He definitely put his fingers in.
I moaned. The finger-fucking was a beautiful relief from the spanking, at least for a moment, until he added a fourth finger and then his thumb. I knew what I was in for when he said to Shelby, "She's fighting with the knuckles on my hand." I tried to relax, but I'm not sure how successful the effort was.
He grabbed my hip, or maybe it was my shoulder, and pulled me around. "Flip over." I felt like I'd been glued to the table; turning myself face-up was a struggle, made harder by Aiden's hand still inside me. "Up on the table."
My memory at this point becomes a bit blurry. There was the sound of the table objecting to unusually violent use. Me reaching over my head and putting my hands on the window. Shelby joking that he was going to put me through said window. Fighting the sensation that I was going to throw up by reminding myself that the violation in progress had nothing to do with my stomach no matter how it might feel. And lots and lots of pain.
I felt tears coming on, and I accepted it, but never quite made it to actually crying. I couldn't stop gasping long enough. At some point it occurred to me that I should have the safe word handy, but I couldn't think of what it was. I let it go and then circled back around to it. What the hell was it again? A sensation floated into my head that described a set of three, and after letting it sit for another moment, I remembered we have a three-part safe word: red light, yellow light, green light. Red was the one I was looking for, but I didn't use it, just let it float nearby in case I needed the life raft.
I have no idea how much time went by while Aiden worked me with his fist. I wanted it to be over, but not enough to actually end it. "I think I need to say 'yellow light' for her," Shelby said eventually, and everything stopped. I took a deep, shaky breath, hanging in the sudden void. The rest of the sensation in my body reappeared slowly, and I floated up to the sound of Aiden's voice.
"You did so well," he said, sounding like he was on the verge of giggles. "I didn't know I could do that to you!"
I wanted to ask what his new discovery was, but didn't have the words.
"Sit up," he told me.
"Why..."
"Come on. Come here, into my arms."
Shelby helped me upright, nuzzling her head into my side and putting her arm around my back. Aiden leaned over me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His smile was beautiful.
I was shaking and just trying to breathe, and realized that at some point I must have cried because my face was wet. I held onto both of their hugs like I was rediscovering life.
Eventually the promise of bed lured me off the table, and Shelby grinned at me when I walked into the circle of lamplight in the kitchen.
"You have the best battered-woman cry-eyes right now," she said, and I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture for my own inspection. I did indeed have huge black circles under my eyes.
"You have no idea," Aiden said to me the next day, "How much I loved those overwhelmed tears streaming down your face."
I had to agree; there's no reason I'd rather cry.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Druncle
People tell me - often after a fight has occurred - that I should just say what I'm thinking and not sit on it. I agree there are circumstances in which I need to be better about that; if you are consistently doing something that drives me bananas, it's my responsibility to bring it up.
But there's another circumstance, too, and this is where it becomes a grey area: the moment when acknowledging something makes it more real. Sometimes I keep feelings to myself not because I think secrets are fun or I like drama or I'm afraid of confrontation, but because I think the thing will be easier to work through if it's just me in the arena. Another person's focus can be helpful, or it can simply add more weight to something that didn't need to be that important.
When I've been accused of keeping secrets, that's usually what has happened. I didn't say something at the first sign of whatever-it-was because it wasn't that important at the time, and I'm inclined to sit back and see how things play out rather than make a big deal about them immediately. And some things do get better or disappear, and then I've avoided unnecessary drama by not saying anything. But some things don't, so by the time they reach a point where I've accepted a need to address them, I get the "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" response, and I can never adequately explain just why.
I'm not going to default to bringing up every little thought that passes through my head; my head is loud some days. The voice in the back of my mind is the drunken uncle at the family reunion. Sometimes he's right, and sometimes he's just spewing crazy talk, and life is usually easier after he passes out by the pool.
But there's another circumstance, too, and this is where it becomes a grey area: the moment when acknowledging something makes it more real. Sometimes I keep feelings to myself not because I think secrets are fun or I like drama or I'm afraid of confrontation, but because I think the thing will be easier to work through if it's just me in the arena. Another person's focus can be helpful, or it can simply add more weight to something that didn't need to be that important.
When I've been accused of keeping secrets, that's usually what has happened. I didn't say something at the first sign of whatever-it-was because it wasn't that important at the time, and I'm inclined to sit back and see how things play out rather than make a big deal about them immediately. And some things do get better or disappear, and then I've avoided unnecessary drama by not saying anything. But some things don't, so by the time they reach a point where I've accepted a need to address them, I get the "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" response, and I can never adequately explain just why.
I'm not going to default to bringing up every little thought that passes through my head; my head is loud some days. The voice in the back of my mind is the drunken uncle at the family reunion. Sometimes he's right, and sometimes he's just spewing crazy talk, and life is usually easier after he passes out by the pool.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Sisterly Love(?)
I got a phone call last week that I've been waiting on for five years. My uncle Adam tried to get me disinherited from my grandmother's will in 2009 because I'm not biologically related to my father. The judge gave me a summary judgment, saying that Adam has no case. He's been ordered to reaccount and include me.
Now I just have to deal with the fact that my own sisters wanted me out of the family so they could get more money for themselves. I'm not too good at holding grudges, but how on earth do you forgive that?
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Summer
I don't just like summer. I have a passionate love affair with this season.
She encourages me to sleep naked. To go for long, wandering walks in the dark. To go play outside in the rain and get soaked to the skin, returning to the indoors dripping wet and making a mess.
To drive with the windows down, music cranked up and singing at the top of my lungs.
Baby you a song
You make me wanna roll my windows down
And cruise
You make me wanna roll my windows down
And cruise
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