Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Sexy Skepticism: Do I Feel Sexy?

What do you do when you no longer feel sexy?

That was the question posited in a recent conversation in which I was a participant. I couldn't even begin to answer it. I don't know what you do when you no longer feel sexy. I can't say that I've ever felt sexy, actually.

I have been...shall we say "fluffy" for pretty much my entire life. I've never been what one would consider conventionally attractive. I've got small boobs, a big belly, a big ass, and acne. I have crooked teeth, and glasses.

I don't have the most self-esteem in the world, obviously. I've never really been shy about that.

I can craft a sexy image, with the right angle, crop, and edit. I'm getting better at that every day and I'm really proud of my work. Those pictures can be sexy, but after I finish working on them, I feel largely detached from the source. Once a piece is complete, it no longer feels like a picture of me.

I occasionally feel pretty, when I get dressed up, or I have a good hair day, but I can't say any of those feelings ever include the idea of "sexy."

Actually, I'm always mildly surprised when a man finds me attractive. I get those messages online of "you're hot" that every woman inevitably gets, but I'm always a bit skeptical. My brain is always questioning the truth of such a statement.

Really? You find me attractive? But I'm fat. I'm shaped like a potato. I have small boobs. Most of the time I probably look like I don't even have boobs. Really? You find my frumpy ass attractive? You might change your mind if you saw the baggy clothes I wear to work.

I've always found my partners sexy. Mesmerizing creatures I could stare at all day. At the same time, I always felt like they were more attractive than me, and part of me was always like "hey, this really hot person finds me attractive. Me? Can you believe it?"

There are a lot of things I think are appealing about me, but none of them are really physical. I like to think I'm intelligent. I do believe I'm rather awesome at writing fiction. I'm a passable dancer. I think I do pretty well for someone who is self-taught, but I could certainly be a lot better.

I often feel sexual, but do I feel sexy? No. Not really.

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Warrior Princess



This is my best friend, Evryn, who was gracious enough to model for me a bit during my visit a few weeks ago, as well as be the photographer for my last two Sinful Sunday entries. She is also the model for the header image featured in Star Talker: Part 12: Conditions. She had recently dyed her hair white, and I wanted to take advantage of her elfin aesthetic. It also helps that she and her husband have some interesting weapons such as the sabotage spear pictured above and a kickass black gladius, both labeled for "home defense." I really like the way this turned out.


Sinful Sunday

Star Talker: Part 14: A Bit of a Shock


I jerked away from him, turning my back. Rha'han laughed and slapped my ass sharply with his two right hands. I yelped at the sting and swung back around, only to get another twist of my nipples. I started cursing in Arabic and kicked my foot out toward his stomach. He stepped out of range and calmly caught my ankle up in a vice grip, preventing me from putting it down. He lifted a single brow and delivered a hard smack the soft flesh of my inner thigh. My knee almost buckled at the sudden, surprisingly intense pain. I blinked, unable to produce a noise.  A large red hand print was slowly forming on my skin.

"Are you finished?" he said, affecting a bored tone.

I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Fuck you."

My free leg was swept from under me. He hooked his lower arms under my knees and moved between them, his rigid cock flush against the lips of my sex. He ground against me, sending jolts of pleasure through the cluster of nerves there. He dropped my legs suddenly, stepping away as I jerked against the bands on my wrist and scrambled to regain my feet.

"You haven't earned that yet. We'll get there though." He strode past me toward one of the cabinets that lined the wall near the armoire. I found myself staring at his ass again, muscles rippling again beneath the gold-dusted skin.

He turned around, carrying a number of implements, some I recognized, others I didn't. Calmly, silently, he laid them out on the top of a small book case up against the wall. beside me. My gaze drifted down to the books there. A series of flight manuals for various models of ships, volumes on Lo'Rahni military history, and oddly enough, three books on artistic technique. The first specialized in mixed media work, the second was on the depiction of light and shadow, and the last covered paint mixing and the creation of custom pigments. I eyed the black hole painting above the bed and looked back at Rha'han curiously.

"So," he said, bringing me back to the moment at hand, "we have several options here. You can move if you like, but bear in mind that the blows will land anyway. That's something you might want to consider before you attempt to dodge them."

Sitting on the case was a thin, but wide paddle crafted of some sort of translucent polycarbonate material. I had memories them from my childhood, as flammable items were prohibited on the observatory. A simple leather belt say next to it. The design on the buckle indicated that it was military issue. There was a long black strip lying there as well that I didn't recognize. It had a dark grey handle with a small switch. The strip was about five centimeters wide and twenty-five centimeters long.

"What is that?" I said.

He picked up the strip. "This is used mostly to discipline slaves, but it's also useful for when firmer discipline is required for mates." He flipped the switch, and a faint hum filled the air. "I'm only going to use it once right now, just so you have an idea of what it means." He stood to the side of me and held my wrists together with one hand and wrapped the other arm around my waist to hold me in place, then pressed the strip to the fleshy part of my ass for a full three seconds.

My mind blanked. It was like a thousand static shocks sparking at once, except they seemed to last an eternity. My nerves felt like they were burning, my skin felt like it was buzzing. I slumped in the chains, but Rha'han held me up. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I registered that the hum had stopped. We stayed like that for several moments, the silence slowly receding as I gradually became aware of his steady breathing in contrast to my heavy panting and my rapid heartbeat pounding in my ears.

"Son of a bitch!" I said breathlessly, the words quiet even to my own ears.

He tossed the evil thing away. "That's a shock wand. I trust you'll remember it."

I continued muttering in Arabic, heaping curse upon curse on his head. He let me go and stood back. I stomped my feet a little, frustrated that I couldn't rub out the residual stinging buzz in my skin.  I froze as Rha'han picked up the translucent paddle. He laid it gently against my hip and rubbed the smooth surface against my skin. I looked down at it. A warm hand glided up my chest to wrap itself gently, but firmly around my throat. He turned my head to look up at him.

"Do you know why I like this implement?" he said, holding it up before me. I opened my mouth to speak, only to receive a pointed squeeze of my throat. "It's wonderfully see-through. I can see the result of every impact. I can see the color bloom on your skin. It really is a beautiful tool."

He pinned me with those golden, unblinking eyes as he spoke. "In the handful of hours you've been in my possession, you've been defiant, flippant, foul-mouthed, and utterly unrepentant. And where has that gotten you?" He tapped the chains with the paddle. I gave it a sidelong glance, unable to move my head. Another hand slithered down over my belly to bury thick fingers into my sex. I gasped. He chuckled softly. "Or is this where you wanted to end up all along?"



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

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

I Suck at Initiating Relationships

This is a subject I've been thinking about a lot lately, especially since getting involved with a local kink social group geared towards meeting people for potential private play. I've always been somewhat socially stunted. I've never been particularly good at initiating friendships. People usually approach me first. I think I just sort of lucked into friends in school, and then those friends would sort of make other friends for me. Or I'd be adopted into the tribe and their friends became my friends by way of proximity.

So, being single, I find myself at a bit of a loss when it comes to play partners. I don't quite know how to initiate that sort of thing, particularly with men. I've been looking at my past encounters, and most of my play partners have been women, and a friendship was always cultivated first. I can only really recall three men I've bottomed for, two of which were men I was in or had been in relationships with, and the other is a man I've been friends with for over twenty years. I've never done pickup play with a man.

It's funny that this is the case, since I generally prefer masculine energies in play. But, I guess it was trained into me. My first two relationships, my dominants were big proponents of the "one penis policy," and that included play. So, for about four years, I was not allowed to engage in play with men of any kind, top or bottom. As a result, I don't really know how to approach a man for platonic play, because, well, I've never really done it.

I've had several female play partners, all nons-sexual, of course. I think that's also part of my mental road block when it comes to approaching men for play. I know that when I play with a woman, that there is no chance of things becoming sexual. I'm less certain about that when it comes to men. I guess I also feel like that many men won't want to play without sexual elements, if not specifically sex. Logically, I know that a lot of men are probably happy to play platonically, but being with men who considered any play to be sexual kind of skewed my perspective, I guess. I would say the fear of being pressured into sexual contact makes me hesitate with approaching single men for play, but I honestly don't know many single men right now, so that's not really an issue.

But, I also have this weird fear that I'm inconveniencing people. Because I don't want to inconvenience anyone, I just generally avoid broaching the subject at all. Particularly with poly people, especially ones that I haven't really developed a close relationship with. I don't really know how to navigate poly waters. It feels like the rules are different. They may be and they may not, I don't really know. And the fact that I am dealing with uncharted waters only adds to that hesitation.

I mean, I'm obviously a big ball of neuroses. I've never hid that fact. I'm obsessive compulsive. I have a pretty severe, although I would wager moderately high functioning social anxiety, and I over-analyze everything to death. As I've said many times before, I can talk myself out of anything.

I'm also kind of oblivious as fuck when it comes to human interaction or flirting, so I need a more direct approach from people sometimes.

Saturday, September 9, 2017

On the Edge


I have a thing for metal. Chain, knives, jewelry, bells, and coins. I love the texture, the temperature, the delicate sound it makes when it meets something else. There's nothing like it. It ignites every sense in me. I enjoy how cold, how hard, how smooth it is against my skin. Being shiny doesn't hurt either. I like that it can be sharp. I like the threat of it, how I can feel that threat so keenly without any damage. It's a heady sensation that always keeps me on the edge.


Sinful Sunday

Star Talker: Part 13: Weighty Matters



"So you'll just keep me locked up in here forever?" I said, watching him disappear into an adjoining room.

Rha'han came back, holding a fresh bandage and the jar of ointment the doctor had given him. "I'll have to present you along with the other captives in a couple of days," he said, gently peeling off the old bandage and rubbing in the salve, "but once that's done with, your comings and goings are exclusively within my purview. If I chose to keep you confined, which I'd honestly rather not do, so long as you aren't being physically abused, no one would interfere."

I lifted a brow. "If you kept me confined, how would anyone know if I were being abused?"

He pressed the edges of the new bandage down and put the supplies away. "The slaves. They are my property of course, but any slave is obligated to report the deliberate injury of a female within the household. We can't afford to lose fertile mates to that sort of thing. A man convicted of intentionally injuring a female is deprived of his mate and any slaves he might have acquired and has his horns sawn off to show what sort of man he is. If he kills one, he is executed."

I eyed the spiral horns curling around his head. "Does it hurt?"

He reached up and rubbed them thoughtfully. "I don't think so, but such a mark ensures that no one will ever sell him another slave or brand another mate for him. He's basically ostracized from society. Only certain professions will hire him, nothing that involves close proximity with women. His key code is stripped from many establishments, so there are many places he can't enter. And his interstellar registration is revoked, so he can't leave the planet to escape this penalty. It's extremely rare for that to happen though."

I shifted out of the kneeling position to sit on the bed. "What qualifies as abuse?"

His eyes flashed, his lips curling into a slight grin. "I can show you what doesn't."

I shrank back a bit. "That's not what I asked."

His smiled widened. "I know, but I did promise to leave a more lasting impression, did I not?"

I kicked off the bed, rolling backward over the edge. The chain slid off the bed, the full weight on me now. It was much heavier than I realized, stealing any momentum I might have had to complete the roll. The metal slammed into the floor first, closely followed by my torso, legs laying up against the side. I grunted at the impact, pain radiating up my spine, the breath rushing out of me. I grimaced, opening my eyes to find Rha'han staring down at me, trying not to laugh.

"How much do these fuckers weigh?"

"The whole rig weighs ten kilograms. The chain by itself weighs eight."

I blinked. "Whyyyyy?"

He slid off the bed and bent over to look me in the eyes, braids dangling down to create a sort of curtain around his face. "You tell me."

I swung my legs to the side and tried to sit up, but my abs weren't strong enough to overcome the weight. Bracing my feet on the side of the bed, I pushed away and shifted the chain as far over as I could to help me roll onto my stomach. Tucking my knees under myself, I tried to give myself enough slack on one side to use one arm to help push myself upright, letting the weight of the chain give me enough momentum to help the rest of the way. I huffed a bit with the effort, but I was proud I'd gotten this far. I wondered if I could stand. I pulled the chain as tight against me as I could, trying to get as much weight in front of me as possible, and planted my foot into a half kneel. I struggled, but I managed to get into a lunge and slowly inched my way into a standing position.    

Rha'han was staring at me, both sets of arms crossed, head tilted slightly. "Impressive. How are you feeling about that decision?"

I took a deep breath, ignoring the ache in my shoulders. "Awesome."

"Wonderful," he said, stepping forward and detaching the chain to reattach it in front of me. He grabbed it and tugged me toward the corner of the room where a basket of succulents hung from a hook descending from the ceiling. He removed the basket and strung the chain over the hook, lifting my arms over my head.

He reached out and tweaked my nipples. "Let's get started, shall we?"


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

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Pro-Tips for Authentic Kitten Play

1. Demand all the pets.

2. Meow incessantly when hungry.

3. If you see a cup, knock it over. Empty cup? Murder it. Full cup? Dead. If they move the cup? Immediately seek out said cup and send it straight to hell (the floor).

4. Obsessively lick one spot on your dominant's body, preferably an arm or a leg until they feel like you will soon wear a hole in their skin.

5. Crawl directly in front of where they are walking and flop onto your back for belly rubs.

6. Choose an arbitrary number of belly rubs to accept before attacking the belly rubbing hand. There should be a different number allotted each time. Keep them on their toes.

7. Chew on random electrical cords. Although I would probably make sure they are unplugged first.

8. For authenticity's sake, cat litter must be everywhere. You don't have to use a litter box, just sprinkle it in random places on the floor.

9. If you encounter a closed door of any kind, scratch it repeatedly and jiggle it with your paw under the door so it makes that annoying thumping sound until someone opens it.

10. Climb onto tables and counters, basically anywhere you're not supposed to be, and take a nap.

11. If your dominant is eating, well, anything, you must steal at least one piece. Preferably when they aren't paying attention. Then hop out of arm's reach and eat it defiantly in front of them. Solid eye contact while doing so is ideal.

12. Bite all the bare ankles you can find.

13. Demand more pets.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Pluto's Lament



I am cast far from you,
my golden star.
I hover here in the dimness of your light,
drifting dismally among the frozen wastes.

I am trapped in your orbit,
forced to watch those other vibrant spheres
dance around you,
rejoicing in your warmth,
bathing in your light.

I was once numbered among them,
a sister in the cosmic dance.
But no more.

Now I stand distant,
condemned
to forever circle your brilliant glow,
watching,
in near darkness,
every course of those blessed satellites
casting icy spires into the very heart of me.

I hate them,
your lovely planets.
I despise their delighted dance,
they, daily-kissed by your fire,
while I languish, here,
among these frigid bodies
that are now my brethren.

Would that I could but escape your gravity
and float through the dust and gas to another distant star,
that I might, too, be kissed by fire
and melted into a beautiful orb
able to join the celestial promenade once again.


Sinful Sunday

Star Talker: Part 12: Conditions


I eyed the manacles, but didn't move. There seemed little point. There was nowhere for me to go, especially since the door wouldn't open without a key. The chains he held were curiously archaic. They looked more like ancient bonds I'd seen in old art and historical programs. Most modern restraints were electronic, much like the doors. These were thick bands of metal with small keyholes, a heavy chain slung between them.

Rha'han gestured toward the bed. I took the hint and walked toward it, Rha'han trailing behind me. The room was large, and comfortably appointed, but not overly lavish. More photographs of nebulae and star clusters decorated the walls. Some of the images seemed to be hand painted. A massive painting of a black hole hung above the headboard of the bed. The fiery event horizon seemed to glow somehow against the inky background.

The bedding was a series of deep blues with a plush, microfiber blanket on top, a pattern of several local constellations decorating it. The tray of food sat steaming at the foot of the bed. I recognized some of the ingredients, if not the specific dishes themselves. We had used local foods at the facility, but we'd typically used them in familiar ways. There were two plates with seared cuts of dark meat, some sort of root vegetable in a cream sauce, and some sort of legume. There were bowls of red maasi berries off to the side, presumably dessert. I was actually rather fond of maasi. They were sweet like candy, but with a slight tang to make them interesting.

Rha'han caught my wrist and snapped a band around it. It was as heavy as I'd imagined, the weight of it pulling my arm down. Unlike when we'd dismounted the ship, he ran the chain behind me and captured the other wrist. I tried to bring my hands around, but the chain was just long enough for me to bring them in front of my hips, but not long enough to bring them together. The weight was such that lifting my arms was mostly impossible. Rha'han lifted me and plopped me onto my knees on the bed.

I sighed heavily. "Why?"

He sat near me on the bed, moving the tray in front of himself. He made quick work of the meat, cutting up each filet at the same time. "I'm proving a point."

"Which is?"

He stabbed a piece of meat with a fork and held it to my lips, looking me dead in the eyes. I looked at it skeptically, then back at him. His dark brows lifted in challenge. I wrinkled my nose, but took the bite, too hungry to really argue.

He took a bite of his own, and proceeded to alternately feed me like a child while eating his own meal. "Everything you receive comes from me. Any food, clothing, personal items, any freedoms to speak of that you receive will be because I allow it. I can also withhold these things." He lifted a cup of fruit juice to my lips. "I'm not obscenely wealthy, but as a commander of my own ship, I do well enough. I can easily provide for all of your needs. I do, however, require obedience."

He sat the glass down, and pushed the tray away. "I am a bastard of the royal house, so more is expected of me than others. Or rather, less is expected of me, so I must do more to prove myself worthy of that house. In the same way, as my mate, you will have to meet those standards as well."

"I didn't know the Lo'Rahni had bastards."

He licked his lips. "They are...unusual...products of dalliances off world. If I had been born a girl, it would be less of an issue, but as another male of a race already overpopulated with males, and a product of infidelity at that...Well, it makes things complicated."

He picked up the tray and sat it on a nearby table. Returning to the bed, he caught my chin and tilted my face to look up at him. "I need to you to behave, particularly in public. If you can't do that..." He lifted the chain, briefly easing the weight on my shoulders, before letting it drop, seeming heavier than before.


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