Sunday, February 16, 2020

Dragon Fly!



At a party back in late 2018, a rigger friend of mine saw me dangling my Dargon from a bannister and decided we needed to make him fly. So we started a little game of plushibari. Dropped him in down in the middle of the party for everyone to see. Apparently tiny TK's are hard to tie.  



Sinful Sunday

Thursday, February 13, 2020

Golden Rings


Image result for gold segment nipple rings

I've been mildly fascinated by the idea of nipple piercings since my second dom introduced the idea several years ago. I mean, I'm also terrified by the idea. I didn't get my ears pierced until I was 19, after all. Piercings were never really something I had much interest in when I was younger. I'm sure my aversion to needles had a lot to do with it.

Anyone who knows me knows I have a strong aesthetic for the harem girl. I'm a belly dancer after all, so harem girls, odalisques, silk and bell-clad dancers have long since been my obsession. The idea of pretty, seamless loops from which to drape chains fits that image well as well as the slave image in my mind. Also, I just really love chains and the feel of metal against my skin.

Of course, I'm a coward, so at no point have I ever done this. I'm a masochist, sure, but needles have always freaked me out. And the horrid experience I had with getting my ears pierced has made me a little gun shy.

Also, there's no small amount of self-consciousness attached to the idea. I'm fat and my breasts are small. Not exactly the image I think of when I imagine a sensual dancer draped in chains and flowing silks. I feel like I will look a bit silly. I've never had the best self-image. The reality never matches the fantastical images in my mind.

So, I think I've made a decision in that regard. Combine goals, if you will. I gained a lot of weight in my last bout of depression. I gained back everything I lost, plus some extra, and I'm a bit ashamed by that. I need to lose it. I mean, I could do to lose more than that, but reasonable goals are easier to achieve.

I would like to be able to buy costumes from vendors at my dance events, which is difficult at my current size. I would like to actually fit the image in my head when I think of those shiny little loops. And maybe put a little less stress on my knees. I've done it before, so I know it's possible.

If I can manage to lose 50lbs, I think I'll go ahead and get those piercings. And my ears too. They've closed up and they need to be redone. So, to those of my friends who have their nipples done, expect to be asked for recommendations and perhaps to accompany me to the appointment. I'm an awkward turtle.

Monday, February 10, 2020

Star Talker: Part 24: A Quiet Night


It was late when the door slid open to the hulking form Rha’han trudging into the room. Neither of us spoke as he began unloading his pockets onto the dresser near the door, wincing slightly. I sat there on the bed, popping maasi berries into my mouth, watching him carefully. I heard a jingle as he unbuckled his belt and laid it on the dresser. Reaching back, he slipped his tunic over his head, revealing a massive bandage covering the expanse of his sculpted back. He turned, shirt in hands, and stopped, frowning at me quizzically.

“What are you wearing?”

I looked down at myself, draped in one of his massive shirts. It was difficult to find one with sleeves. Most of them were open-sided like my dresses, except for the military issued ones which were clearly armored. I had the baggy upper sleeves of the soft brown shirt rolled up on my arms to free my hands. The other set of sleeves was tied around my waist to make it feel less like I was wearing a tent. It was long enough and I was short enough that the fabric which would have hit him about mid thigh fell past my knees.

I popped another berry in my mouth. “You didn’t give me any night clothes.”

He furrowed his brow. “You don’t need them.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like sitting around naked?”

“Maybe I feel like watching you sit around naked.”

I shoved a fistful of berries in my mouth. “Maybe I don’t give a flying fuck.” I mumbled around the fruit.

Eyes narrowing slightly, he tossed the shirt toward the wardrobe and went back to the dresser, picking up his stupid little remote. Facing me again, he held it up, looking me in the eyes and he pressed the button.  When I didn’t react, his eyebrows lifted.

“I could have sworn I told you to leave it in,” he said, advancing on me.

I chucked the plug at him, surprising us both when it clocked him right between the eyes.

His lips thinned with irritation, jaw tightening. “I was hoping we could have a quiet night, but I see how it’s going to be.”

The moment he turned his back I rolled off the bed and darted toward the door. I made it about halfway down the hall before his thundering footfalls caught up with the muted slaps of my bare feet. Two thick arms clamped around my middle, lifting me easily off the floor. He toted me back to the bedroom like a wayward sack of grain. I landed face down on the bed with a bounce, almost immediately pinned by Rha’han’s two massive left hands. The edge the shirt was shoved up and tucked under one of the hands splayed across the small of my back, leaving my ass bare. I kicked my legs out frantically, but connected with nothing but air.

A whoosh rent the air followed swiftly by the deafening crack of leather meeting flesh. My breath flew out of me as fire blazed across my skin in the wake of the blow. Another landed quickly behind it, lower than the first, catching a strip of fresh skin. I struggled harder, kicking and squirming, trying to dodge the stinging kiss of his strap. Rage began bubbling up in my belly emanating throughout my body.

“I will fucking eat you!” I shrieked as the belt landed high on the backs of my thighs.

Rha’han barked out a laugh. He seemed unconvinced by my threat. “You know? I’m kind of glad you didn’t listen. After the day I’ve had? This is immensely gratifying.”

Another merciless thwack landed across the fullest part of my ass. The next three fell rapidly across my thighs, blinding me with the sheer agony of it. I tensed up, stretched taut like a board, unable to breath for a few moments. I slapped the bed furiously and let out a breathless growl.

“I know it’s probably hard to tell at this moment,” he said, casually setting my backside ablaze, “but I’m actually rather easy to get along with.” He paused for the shriek following the stripe landing where butt met thigh.   

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” I squealed out when I could finally breathe again.

He stopped suddenly. I looked back to see him squinting at me thoughtfully, then lifted his arm again.

“Wait! No!” I yelped, before the belt connected one last time with my tender flesh and then the pressure on my back lifted. I scrambled fully onto the bed, shoving down the edge of my makeshift night shirt.

“Take it off.” he said, reaching for the button on his trousers.

Not wanting to continue our last little chat, I actually did as I was told, although it rankled me quite a bit.

“Shit,” he hissed suddenly. Once I got the shirt over my head, I followed his gaze to the floor, where a few drops of dark blood lay shining in the lamp light.

Rha’han sighed. “You’re going to have to help me.”

I hissed as I sat up. Even the silken texture of his sheets grated against my angry skin. “What happened?”

He finished peeling off his boots and trousers and made toward the bathroom, giving me another view of his back. The huge bandage, which had been largely pristine on my viewing when he first ended the room, was now splotched with fresh blood. Blood was also seeping out of the edges and dripping down the slope of his glutes. He returned with a basket of first aid supplies and a wet washcloth. He sat the basket beside me and lay down on his stomach across the width of the bed.

“You’re probably not terribly fond of me right now, but if you could be so kind as to not eat me, I would appreciate it.”

My face flushed and I winced, remembering that idiotic statement. I took the corner of the bandage and gingerly peeled it back away from his skin, revealing a number of angry red cuts hatching across his back. Some were scabbed over, but others had opened and were bleeding slightly.



Wicked Wednesday

Monday, February 3, 2020

Star Talker: Part 23: Breach of Protocol


Rha'han

After about half an hour, the yelling started giving him a headache. Rha’han stood quietly in the back of the room, hands resting behind his back, squinting unfocused at the opposite wall. After he had brought the news to Fahrash, they’d immediately taken it to their general. Now the advising council along with the Shara sat in the war room shouting at each other. Demanding from each to know how this disaster had been allowed to occur. They were fully prepared to repel the Jin Fai, but the entirety of the Federation allied planets was another story.

The Shara smacked the table, commanding silence. Amrach, Shara of the Klotharan Empire, was a rather imposing man. As a pure-bred Lo’Rahni, a rare thing in this age, he stood taller than most in the room. His hair fell well past his broad shoulders, woven into tight braids decorated with gold rings to contrast the silver of age mixed through the black. His beard, though not overly long, also glittered with gilded beads. His corkscrew horns were not unlike Rha’han’s, but were thicker and bore jeweled bands of bright gold befitting his rank. His kohl-rimmed eyes were the color of molten gold and had not left Rha’han since he’d sat down, pinning him with a thoroughly displeased glare. Rha’han deliberately avoided his uncle’s gaze.

“What I wish to know," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "is who allowed the Centauri on our planet to begin with?”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Rha’han.

“The translator, Selima--”

Amrach arched an aristocratic brow. “Your wife? A wife that you did not ask permission to take, I might add.”

Rha’han looked at the floor. “Yes, Great One, my wife. She claims that you authorized their research expedition.”

The Shara sat back, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair. “That is interesting, as I do not recall seeing any treaties, let alone signing one. I can’t imagine why I would. Terrans are dangerous, greedy creatures, as evidenced by the Jin Fai’s devouring of the southern sextant.”

Geshi, a thin scholarly man who had been serving as a royal adviser since before Rha’han’s birth, spoke up. “Even so, Great One, we would not be aware of the Jin Fai’s movements were it not for our access to the Centauri Archives. They have been essential to the expansion of our marshal intelligences. It is not a thing that we can really afford to lose at this point.”

Amrach’s intense stare slid from Rha’han to the scholar, causing the man to flinch slightly. “Yes, but who. Authorized. It?”

An aide scurried forward and bowed deeply. “If you’ll permit me, Sire. Based on our records, the treaty was drawn up and signed by His Highness the Ambassador.”

“I see my brother oversteps his bounds, yet again. First the Terran child, now a whole Federation of them.” Amrach rolled his eyes with tangible frustration.

“Um...a-actually, Sire…” the aide said, still bent at the waist.

“What.” The Shara growled.

“H-his Highness the A-ambassador’s ward was among the delegation sent to the Bassir region to conduct the study. She has been in the c-care of the Centauri Federation for sum fifteen years for educational purposes until she reaches her majority next year. At that point she w-was to be collected and wedded to His Highness Fahim Qa’iir.” The aide remained bowed as he said all of this, but Rha’han could see the muscles in his thighs beginning to twitch with the effort.

Amrach interlaced his fingers and resumed glaring at Rha’han over the top of them. “And what is the name of the ward, pray tell?”

The aide tapped on the tablet he held in his hands. Rha’han knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth.

 “Selima Fouad, Great One.”

Gold eyes flashed. “Everyone except Rha’han? Leave. Now.”

The council rose as one and sped out of the room, casting Rha’han nervous glances. Such men as these were usually quite stoic, faces plastered with unreadable expressions. One had to be in positions such as theirs. But the Great Amrach inspired a good deal of healthy fear. Which wasn’t entirely a bad thing. The Shara was a fair man and a good ruler, but he could be utterly ruthless when the need arose.

The Shara rose from his seat with an elegance one might not expect from a man so large and crossed the room in three swift strides to loom menacingly over Rha’han. Rha’han was used to being loomed over by the men in his family. Certain houses within the empire, and likely others across the planet were required by law to maintain a certain degree of genetic purity. Half-blood Lo’Rahni were abundant, for sure, but within the Royal houses, Rha’han was an aberration. A fact many in his family liked to remind him of on a regular basis. Such looming no longer intimidated him. He remained stoic in his uncle’s shadow, bracing for the oncoming storm.

“Look at me, boy.”

Rha’han ground his teeth a bit at being called “boy,” but obediently lifted his gaze to meet the radiant gaze of his uncle.

The Shara’s speech was slow and very deliberate. “I do not think you quite comprehend how unfathomably sick I am of this incessant feud between you and my idiot brother.”

“Permission to speak freely, Sire?”

The other man crossed his upper set of arms, eyes flashing. “What.”

It wasn’t a question. It never was. It always sounded like a challenge.

“I did not cause this. I had nothing to do with the duplicitous treaty. I didn’t know my father had a ward, let alone the woman I captured.”

Amrach narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps, but you knew she belonged to Ashrad before you branded her. Did you not?”

Rha’han lowered his eyes briefly. “I saw the brand of his house, yes.”

“And you took her anyway.”

“It is the prerogative of those in service to the empire without mates to claim female prisoners of war as an avenue of proliferation.”

Amrach rolled his eyes. “Don’t quote law at me, boy. Especially if you’re going to neglect to list the protocols regarding those acquired in a defensive action versus an offensive one. Protocols you willfully broke.”

“I believed she might be more cooperative in such a setting,” he said defensively.

“No. You wanted to fuck over your father.”

Rha’han shrugged. “That was certainly a bonus. But I honestly believe I can persuade her to work with us.”

Amrach snorted. “I don’t think your cock is quite that magical, boy.”

Rha’han closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “I never said it was, but when given the opportunity to report the incident to the Centauri, she did not do so.”

Amrach straightened, eyes igniting with fury. “Excuse me?”

“She accessed my home terminal and pulled up Archive material, but claims she did not contact them because she didn’t want to start an intergalactic war.”

Rha’han found himself slammed violently into the wall, the Shara’s massive hand wrapped around his throat. “Are. You. Telling. Me. That you. Allowed. A prisoner. To access the global network under your supervision? Can you appreciate the massive consequences such a security breach could have caused?” He pulled back and slammed him into the wall again. “You say she claimed she did not contact them. She could have lied!”

Rha’han gasped for air. “If she had, I think we would know by now.”

Amrach released him and stalked away, pacing angrily. “Ashrad has been recalled immediately. He will arrive within the next fortnight. I will see what he has to say for himself.” He stopped, pressing a button on the table and glaring at Rha’han. “You,” he said, pointing at him, “will receive fifty lashes for your lapse in judgement and your breach of protocol. And tomorrow you will bring the girl before me. I wish to speak with her.”

Rha’han snapped to attention and bowed deeply. “Yes, Sire.”



Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Saturday, February 1, 2020

Demisexual Ramblings

Sexuality is a lovely, weird, complex thing. I have pretty much always considered myself straight. Nothing else really occurred to me for most of my life. There was a brief period when I first got into the scene and on fetlife where I thought I could potentially be bisexual. I have since realized that feeling was the pressure of others who wanted me to be that.

I have long been easily molded to fit the desires of those I am invested in. I am a chameleon, an empath. I discern a need and try to cram myself into that box. Most of the time, I don't even realize I'm doing it. Particularly with partners. I had mentioned my adaptability in our preliminary conversations, so he had me write up a sheet of goals and such before his influence changed them.

I've always known I was fairly picky about sexual partners. I've never had sex outside a relationship. I'm not capable of casual sex. Emotion is so tied up in sex for me, I know I cannot allow myself to have sex with someone I cannot ultimately be in a relationship with. It's too dangerous. I can't risk the emotional connection deepen into an ultimately fruitless endeavor.

I only really learned about demisexuality in the last few years. Someone suggested it to me on one of my blog posts. It made sense. The inability to engage in casual sex. The inability to drum up enough attraction to even be tempted by it. One night stands? Impossible.

I don't experience instant sexual attraction. I recognize physical appeal, but even those I find physically attractive, I don't know if I would ever actually want them sexually. Not without building that connection.

Once it's there, though. Shit.

I was at a Pure Romance party last year, and we talked about it takes on average about 20 minutes for a woman to become fully aroused. But if I have that connection? Just the presence of my partner is enough sometimes. I've only really experienced this once. But with my last partner, it was like a fucking waterfall just being around him. The foreplay was nice, and appreciated, but I was pretty much ready and raring to go the instant he gave me that look.

I can't even do play with someone unless I have become friends with them first. I mean, I suppose that isn't terribly unusual. But I'm just not comfortable with being touched by people I don't have an emotional connection to. Hugs, handshakes, casual touches from people I don't know well can send me into panic attacks.

I would say this had never seemed overly weird to me, but I know it is. I have had social anxiety and physical paranoia since puberty. It just never occurred to me that this might be a feature of demisexuality.

Don't get me wrong. My libido is ridiculously high. It's just when I decide to take care of my own needs, the men of my fantasies are faceless aggressors. I just don't fantasize about real people. Characters I've built in my stories? Sure. But real actual humans I know? I've only ever done that with those I'm already intimate with. Perhaps that's why most of my life, those featured in my fantasies have been anonymous or unseen. Because there is no connection. I can be aroused by the act without consideration for the one performing it.

And fantasies are fantasies. I would never actually want to live them out. I sometimes wonder if I could, but I know I'd feel horrible afterward if I did. Even if I didn't know who they were, I'd still have a piece of their soul in me. I'd be able to feel it.

I keep noticing new things since I started identifying as demisexual. Sometimes I wish I experienced sexual attraction the way other people do. It would make things less frustrating I think. I have a hard time explaining it to people, besides robotically rattling off the dictionary definition, because I don't think I fully understand it myself. But I'm slowly figuring it out.