Mentor VS Predator, Ways To Spot The Difference

Since writing this post, I've gotten a lot of messages from newbies asking me, "How do I tell the difference between someone who really wants to help me, and someone who is a predator, an exploiter, someone who just wants to take advantage of me?"

The short answer is: it's not easy.
If you read the comments in that post, you'll get an idea of how many people entered this scene, only to be manipulated and exploited.
It happens.
A lot.
But there are ways to figure out whether a person is really just trying to help a newbie out, or has ulterior motives. This list is by no means all-inclusive, but it'll give you an idea of what I'm talking about.

1. A Mentor will never expect you to give them personal information too soon.

They might give you their name and phone number, but they will not press you to give them yours, especially if you make it clear you don't want to. One time should be enough.
If they say something like "I gave you mine, it's courteous for you to give me yours," you can just remind them that you did not agree to an exchange beforehand, but you are willing to delete their information from your phone (or rip up the piece of paper where you wrote it down, or whatever) if they'd like.

2. A Mentor will never expect you to play with them in exchange for mentorship.

Mentorship is a pedagogical relationship, not a play relationship. If both of you agree to widen the parameters of your relationship to include play, fine; but it is not a given expectation.

3. A Mentor will give you suggestions on ways to find the right events for you, without forcing you to some or prohibiting you from others.

Attending events is important, because it helps you meet people and learn new things, gain new skills. But all events have their own energy, their own style, their own way of doing things—in my neck of the woods, you can go to five different munches during the week, and all of them will have a distinctly different feel to them.
A mentor will encourage you to try as many events as you can, without trying to outright prohibit you from any of them. (They may warn you strongly against some, but not prohibit you. They may offer to go with you if they think you will be unsafe.)

4. A Mentor will introduce you to people—and warn you about others—while still letting you making your own decisions about friendships.

A mentor will understand you are a full grown adult, able to make your own decisions about who you want to be friends with—and to what extent—even if they personally do not get along with some people. Some of the information they give you about others may be sharing predatory behavior, or just outright asshole behavior. It might make you pause.
It should never come with an ultimatum.

5. A Mentor will enjoy seeing you learn and branch out, not try to keep you constrained.

A mentor should never try to keep you from learning. Learning is always a good thing. A good mentor will try their best to make sure you learn from the best; they might warn you against learning from any so-called experts whom they know are anything but. But they should never try to dissuade you from learning about a new skill, or protocol, or type of dynamic.

6. A Mentor will care about your welfare, but will respect boundaries around personal information.

A Mentor will want to know you're safe, and doing no damage to yourself. This does not mean they get to be privy to every facet of your life. If you have a playdate with someone, they may want to receive a "check-in" the next morning, to make sure you got home okay; they do not get to expect a blow-by-blow of what happened, and how your date went. (If you want to share, that's one thing; but demanding this sort of information is not appropriate.)

7. A Mentor will want to talk to you on a regular basis, and see you in person if possible, but will make your safety and security a priority.

There is only so much information that can be gleaned from online communication; personal, one-on-one meetings play a vital role in a mentorship. Some mentors like to meet once a week. Others think once a month is fine. Whatever you decide, the goal of the discussion should be to discuss whatever is on your mind, in a safe, relaxed environment.
If the mentor is asking you to meet them at a stranger's house, or in a seedy hotel room, you have every right to say NO.

8. A Mentor will not get furious with you when you don't listen to them, and make mistakes. (Frustrated, yes; furious, no.)

Because there are going to be times when your mentor gives you advice, and you don't take it. And that is normal, that is to be expected, because sometimes people need to make their own mistakes to learn from them.
If a mentor needs to maintain control over you so much they fly off the handle when they find out you've gone against their wishes...I think you know where I'm going with this.

9. A Mentor will teach you how to respect yourself (and not just them).

There are many different ways of setting up boundaries and behavioral protocols; all of them are right (assuming everyone involved agrees).
Some people like to be called by honorary titles, some people don't; some people will want their sub or Dom to be contacted before a friends request, some people won't. As you learn about this community, you will need to decide for yourself what behavioral rules best fit you, what kinds of protocols you want to reserve for specific individuals in your life, and which boundaries help you feel more secure as you navigate your way around. A mentor can help you make those kinds of decisions.
They should not be making them for you.

10. A Mentor will understand that the goal of mentorship is to teach you enough to send you on your merry way, and end the mentorship—not keep it going indefinitely.

At some point, you should be able to spread your wings and fly, navigate the community with a good set of social skills at least, and wee bit o' sense between your ears. You should know how to comport yourself at events, vet people (even if it's at a basic level), trust your instincts, and at the very least, do what you need to do to stay safe. Your mentor will still be there for you if you need them. But at some point, the fledgling has got to leave the nest.
If your mentor is trying to maintain control over you when you think the mentorship has run its course, then it's time to have a frank discussion.

So that's it, my "quick 10" of things to look for in a mentor, and what to watch out for from a possible predator or manipulator. If you have more to add, please do in the comments section.
And good luck out there.

Monday Meme: "When did you realize this was your "biggest" kink? And how?"

I never "realized" Take-Down Play is my biggest kink; it always just was. From an early age, I was fantasizing (and literally dreaming) about being chased and hunted. And when I say "early age," I mean, I was still watching cartoons. Some of my favorite cartoon characters from GI Joe and M.A.S.K. floated in and out of those fantasies.

I made the mistake one time of telling my sister about my dreams. "Those are your dreams?" She asked me in disbelief. "Those are my nightmares. You're such a weirdo."
That was when I realized maybe not everyone shared in my proclivities.

When I reached puberty, and started having thoughts and urges about sex, I hit a deep dichotomy: on one hand, I had been told sex was supposed to be gentle, relaxed, and an almost passive activity for the woman. On the other hand, my fantasizes were full of ruthlessness, brutality, and a heady dose of fear.

Trying to reconcile these two conflicting views of what sex was supposed to "be like" took some time, but in the end, my own personal urges won out. I discovered some S&M books at my local book store, and while I understood them to be fringe fiction, completely taboo, I also felt a huge sense of relief that there were other people like me out there in the world, who liked sex rough and violent.

Once I started actually having sex with boys, things got harder. I got myself into a lot of trouble. I don't blame the boys—at least, not most of them. They were figuring themselves out, just like me. I wanted to be hurt, and they wanted to hurt me, but none of us knew what the hell we were doing.

Then I met Husband, who seemed to inherently understand the basic rule of "Hurt, But Don't Harm," even if he didn't know how to articulate it. The sex between us was savage, but never left me feeling degraded or violated; it was fun, and had me coming back for more.
Which, you know, is vital in any BDSM relationship.

Newbies: Avoid "Community Frenzy," Protect Yourselves

When you first enter "The Scene," you will meet a lot of new people who all seem awesome. You will be invited to munches, encouraged to attend events, and welcomed to more than a couple discussion groups. This is all great!
It can also be overwhelming.
It can lead to what I call "Community Frenzy."

You'll notice that all these people constantly warmly greet each other, hug each other, flirt with each other, and most importantly, play with each other. You'll want in on that action. You'll want to be included. You'll want to belong.
But there's a reason why those people are acting like they've known each other for years: because they have. The investment they have put into their relationships is the most precious commodity of all, time, and nobody can just replicate that, no matter how many munches or parties you go to.

But the desire to belong is overwhelming. You'll want to make friends. You'll want to be on the inside. And so you may just forget to protect the most important thing about you of all: you.

Your identity, your private information, your vanilla life, is to many of us (and I dare say, most of us) sacred. It is not stuff we should just give out willy-nilly. Very few of us are complete open books.
(And to those who are, I say, go you. But most of us have family, jobs, children we have to protect. Our kinky selves do not take priority over our need for some semblance of privacy.)

But when you're new in the scene, the temptation to share this sacred part of you is strong. Why? Because—as we've all been led to believe—you think if you share this part of you, others will cherish it just as much as you do, and they will reveal something sacred about themselves, because isn't that how it's supposed to work? Quid Pro Quo?
No.
See, if you reveal your secrets to the wrong people, there are those in this community who will use that information to their advantage, to gain power over you.

They will seek you out, because you are a newbie, and they can smell a newbie across the room like a shark smells blood in the water. They will charm you with their wisdom, seduce you with their social standing, entice you with their familiarity with the scene. They will make you think if you become friends with them, not only will you be safe, they will be able to help you navigate your way around the scene faster. They will introduce you to the "right" people, teach you the "right" protocol, and take you to the "right" parties.
These people are sometimes called Predators. All too often, they are not people you want to trust, but you will not figure that out—not until it's too late.

See, all that information about yourself you've been giving them, they've been storing it away. And when you finally realize what kind of person you've been dealing with—controlling, manipulative, gaslighting—they will use that information against you, to keep you silent. Silence is a powerful tool for predators. It keeps them safe, and able to keep going, because if no one is willing to speak up about their ugly behavior, no one else is ever going to know. They can continue to move from victim to victim, leaving no trail.

I have met too many victims who are too afraid to speak out about their abusers because they know their abuser has information on them they don't want getting out. And yes, I know of victims who did speak out, and did get outed by their aggressor...only to see their aggressor being protected by the community.
Because sadly, this community does include predators in high places with many friends.

Now I'm not saying that everyone who approaches you in the beginning is dangerous—absolutely not. There are a great many fine people who offer themselves up as mentors and teachers to newbies, and they are incredible folks. I thank God I met some of the most fabulous people when I first entered the scene, people who protected me and offered me help when I needed it.
But how can you tell the difference between the good, well-meaning folks, and the predators? The answer is, you can't.
But there are ways you can protect yourself.

1. Don't give people your full legal name, especially if it's easy to look you up.

If you have a name like "John Black," you might not have cause to be worried. But if your name is something like "Harrington Mortimer Zelmitok," you should definitely create a kinky name for yourself, and give out that one instead of your legal name.

2. Create a new email account for your kinky persona.

Keep your kinky self and your vanilla self separate entities from the beginning. Give out your kinky email account to people who want to stay in touch. Eventually, if and when you decide these people are trustworthy, you can give them your other, vanilla, email account.

3. Be careful with things like LinkedIn, Skype, and any other social media sites where people can track you down, especially Facebook.

If you become friends with someone on Facebook, and they are friends with other kinky people, those other kinky people will be able to see your information—depending on not just your settings, but your friend's settings. Facebook will also "recommend" your friendship to other people in your friend's contact list. It's a slippery slope, and one you have zero control over.

4. Give yourself LOTS of time to get to know people before you give out ANY information about yourself you hold sacred.

You may decide to give certain people your legal name. You may decide to give a few others, perhaps your play partners, your cellphone number. Fewer still will get your address. Choose what information you give out, and who you give it to, carefully, because once it's out, there's no taking it back.
And to those who say "you shouldn't be playing with someone you don't even trust with your phone number," I say, nope, I disagree—because I might trust that person enough to play with them once, but that doesn't mean I trust them with my kids' safety. And if by giving this person my phone number, I might make it possible for them to track my family down, or my kids—I'm not going there. Full stop, the end.

5. Try to find out whether the person you want to trust has ever threatened to out someone else, or actually outed someone else—and under what circumstances.

There are a few legitimate reasons to out another person in the kink community (and by "out," I mean, out their legal information). If the person has a criminal record including sex crimes, for instance, it may be not just appropriate, but necessary to out them to event planners and party organizers. Public documents may have to be shown to prove this person is a danger to the community at large.
But if this person outed another as a method of revenge, as an act of vindictiveness, then that should stop you in your tracks right there. (Of course, they will try to justify why they felt the need to out this other person—they will also want to keep you as far away from that person, and their friends, as much as possible. But that is another method of manipulation for these predators: they try to control whom you talk to, and listen to, as much as they can.)

I realize this post can sound kind of scary and alarming. To a certain degree, it's meant to. It's a warning to newbies out there to take care. Be smart, be careful, be risk aware.

"What's Your Biggest Kink?"

My biggest kink would have to be take-down play, otherwise known as rape-fantasy play, otherwise known as primal sex.

I love it when my partner has to come after me and pin me down. I get drunk on the thrill of the chase. I identify as prey; I expect my partner to have a beast inside him, one willing to do almost whatever it takes to hunt me down. I want him to need to devour me. I want to know that among this large field of possible game, he chose me as his target, because I am worthy of the chase. He is willing to settle for nothing less.

I want to know he gets just as much thrill from the chase as I do. I want him to strike terror in my heart, because in this game, without fear, there is no victory. I want him to know I will fight him every step of the way, and he will welcome my puny attempts to thwart him.
I want him to savor his victory over me, because it will not come easily.

This kind of play is what some consider "edge play." There is a lot of "consensual non-consent" going on. My play partners, those who engage in this sort of play with me, have to know a lot more about me than just my safewords. They have to be able to read my body language, my cues, what I'm thinking behind my eyes even if I don't say the words out loud.
They have to know at least a little of what I'm thinking, because they will need that knowledge to outwit me.

Not everyone wants to play like this; more importantly, not everyone can. There's a heady dose of trust involved, along with the need for full understanding of what the fuck you're doing, way before you even start. Connection, communication, discussion, negotiation—all of it's necessary before your first scene begins. This is fantasy play, not actual assault, but things can go real wrong real quick in a heartbeat if you misread your partner.

But the pleasure I get from these scenes...man, it's a rush.

I have a fantasy of being released into a large field, being given a ten second head start, and then hunted down, chased, captured like a wild animal. It would be like that book, "The Most Dangerous Game," only instead of being killed, I'd be stripped down, tied up like a stray heifer, and beaten for my defiance.

Now I'm all aroused.

New Year, New Layout, New Posts

Well hello there, blog o'mine. Long time no see.
Happy New Year!
Let's make some updates!
I did some tweaking to the blog template. Nothing too major, in my opinion—I'll probably never get tired of the black background, it's like the classic black cocktail dress every woman is supposed to have in her closet—which of course I don't, but my BLOG does, so there, that totally counts—where was I going with this? Oh yeah, changes.

I don't know about you fine people, but I'm feeling good about 2015. 2014 filled me with unreasonable and inexplicable anxiety, and while nothing catastrophic happened that year, it was filled with small hiccups and micro-calamities that kept shoving me off my game.
But not this year. Ho ho ho, no. This year I'm gonna rock my socks off.
If I'm told I'm allowed to wear socks. ;)
It's funny how we get vibes about these sorts of things, isn't it? Let's hope I'm right.

I didn't disappeared entirely these last couple months. I can always be found on Fetlife; that place sucks the time out of your life the way Hitachis will suck orgasms out of your clit. Oh yes! We got a hitachi, too. Our first one. A post is going up about that, for sure.
A little prelude: I HATE THE HITACHI. Yes, I do. And I'm pretty sure it hates me back.

But as I was saying, I was on Fetlife (a lot), and I wrote this meme, "30 Things the Right Way." I didn't think anyone would actually do the damn thing, but they did, which made me feel fucking awesome, and all sorts of voyeuristic. So I'm going to put it up here, on my blog. And for the next 30 posts, I'm going to do the meme myself. Because I am a special kinky snowflake.

1. What's your biggest kink?
2. When did you realize this was your "biggest" kink? And how?
3. What's your hardest boundary?
4. When did you realize this is your hardest boundary? And how?
5. What sort of labels, if any, do you use to describe yourself?
6. Do you have any kinky nicknames?
7. When was the first time you used the word "kinky" to describe yourself? How did it feel?
8. Are you "out" to your family? If not, why not?
9. Do you think your upbringing affected your kink in any way? How so?
10. Do you think your kink helps you understand other aspects of your life, your relationships, your personal character?
11. Is it important to you that others understand your kink?
12. Do you wish you were more or less kinky? What does that mean to you?
13. How does your health affect your kink?
14. How close are you to your local kink community?
15. Could you ever be with someone not as kinky as you (whatever that would mean to you)? What about more kinky (again, "more" being however you interpret that to be)?
16. Name a kink you are embarrassed to reveal. Describe the first time you had to reveal it to a partner.
17. When was the first time you ever had to call RED?
18. Is there a kink out there you think is just plain wrong? Ie, scat, animal play, etc? Or do you think anything goes?
19. How easy is it for you to let other people in on your kinks? Are you open, or do you keep it behind closed doors?
20. Have you ever had a scene you wished went longer than it did? Tell us about it.
21. What do you wish some of the other vanilla people in your life knew about you?
22. What do you wish some of the other kinky people in your life knew about you?
23. Name one personal trigger you have. It does not have to be the biggest one, just one you are willing to share.
24. Name a toy you really want to try out.
25. Give us a fantasy of yours you don't think you'll ever try...and tell us why not.
26. What would you be willing to give up for the sake of your kink?
27. What kink would you be willing to give up for the sake of the rest of your life?
28. Tell us about a passion you have in your life which is not kink related.
29. Tell us about a time someone misjudged your kink in a way that made you uncomfortable, or made you think.
30. Tell us which kink you feel most talented to do, and which you think you need more experience.
31. Where and how do you learn most of your kink? TV, online, the kink community, etc?

Oh, and readers? TAG, YOU'RE IT. Go do the meme yourselves. Because we are all of us special kinky snowflakes. 

There IS Fetlife Drama, and It DOES Have a Victim (Cross-posted from Fetlife)

Stay away from Fetlife drama.
That seems to be the rule these days.
You see a post that's a little too abrasive with the finger pointing? Stay away from it! You see a post that's a little too specific with the calling out of improper behavior from a certain individual? Stay away from it! You see a post that's a little too familiar to the people you know in your local community? Stay away from it!

I've written at length about my feelings on the word "drama," and how we use it far too much to describe—and dismiss—issues and events we should be taking far more seriously in the scene.
But let's face it. Sometimes, there is drama on Fetlife. The posts I'm talking about are the ones which are not there to help anyone, not there to improve anything, they're there so someone can feel better for ranting and raging and kicking up a whole lot of dirt, for no other reason than to assuage their own misery.

And yeah, sure, a lot of people call that "looking for support." There's nothing wrong with coming here looking for support. Your friends want to be there for you.
But let me tell you a little eensie-beensie fact about trying to find support on Fetlife: if your appeal is not 100% sincere and 100% genuine? After a while, it willcome back to bite you in the ass. It may take a while, but it will happen. People will reread that post of yours, and realize you're not trying to prop yourself up, you're trying to punch someone else down, because they dared to piss you off somehow.
That's drama.

Some of us have been here long enough to recognize it mighty quick. But then...then there's the aftermath.
People start judging everyone involved over the "drama". They start painting everybody with the same brush.
Both exes of a now non-couple, where one is talking shit about the other? They're now both causing drama. Everyone involved in a dispute? They're allcausing drama. Hell, an entire group of friends may now be flung and marinated with the dreaded drama sauce—because one or two of them are spreading around the evil drama.
"I'm staying away from those people, they're causing drama." "That couple with the drama, they need to learn." "Why can't that group stop it with the drama?"

Take a better look, people. Take a better look, and ask yourself: Who is the one causing the drama? Is it the person who is trying to get over that bad break up, the people who are trying to solve a conflict privately, the ones who are following some kind of rules of engagement to get the matter settled as quickly as possible for the betterment of the community?
Or is it those who are plastering that shit all over Fetlife with their posts?

I read these posts, and I feel like I'm back in high school. So-and-so has to tell me their side of the "story" before the other person can get to me, so I believe them first.
(As an aside, does this actually work with some people?...What am I saying...of course it works, because some of us have never left high school mentality. If this is you, stop it. Please.)

Here's the thing: people who are affected by this drama typically have very little recourse other than to suffer through it. They cannot control the people who are kicking up shit—no one can really control the behavior of others, only their own—so they keep their heads down and ignore it as much as possible.
And yet, they are marinated in the drama sauce, with no control over the outcome.

Drama is treated like a game around here, which is a sad fact in and of itself. It's a spectator sport.
There's often two sides: The cause...and the casualty.
Look what's going on. Listen to who's saying what, who's writing what...and who's trying their best to rise above. Don't make assumptions about the silent party.
You may just realize later, you were wrong.
And remember, nobody is immune from the drama game. You may just find your number called up next, whether you like it or not, and let me tell you, those exits off the field are hard to find.

My First Time With A Hitachi

Yesterday was the first time I have ever tried a hitachi.
It was also one of the most, if not the most, surreal scenes of my life.

I went over to visit some kinky close friends: my friend The Brat, and her Master, who is also my play partner.
Most of the visit was just hanging out with my slavey friend, talking, laughing, and commiserating how evil our respective Masters can be. But after we went out to eat, we had some unexpected time on our hands...and I knew my friend had a Hitachi.
"Would you mind," I asked hesitantly, "showing me your hitachi?"
I'd never seen a hitachi up close. Everyone keeps telling me I HAVE TO GET ONE and it is the most AMAZING THING EVAH and the orgasms you get from it are OUT OF THIS STRATOSPHERE. But you know, I was skeptical.
"Sure you can see it," she said to me. "C'mon. It's in the dungeon."

She was a little embarrassed at first to find it still had some residual hot sauce on it from her own scene with it the night before. But after cleaning it up nice and tidy, she handed it to me.
"It comes with two speeds," she showed me, "but we have a variable controller on it, see?" She began to turn the dial on the controller left and right, and let me feel for myself how the buzzing ebbed and flowed.
Then her Master walked in.

"You're not gonna know what it feels like unless you really try it out," he said. Then he threw the gauntlet on the table: "I bet I can make you come through your underwear with that thing."
"Bet you can't," I said.
He pulled my shorts down to my ankles, put a condom on the hitachi head, bent me over a padded bench, and pressed the thing home.

I struggled for a minute. It was...humiliating, to say the least. But once I realized he was not going to stop until he was damn good and ready, I gave up, and settled in.
But I was not going to come.
"How long has he been doing this?" I asked my friend, who was now sitting on the bean bag in the corner, looking nonchalantly at her phone screen.
"A few minutes," she said. "Why, you want to time how long it takes you to come?"
"I want to time how long it takes him to give up."
"I wouldn't make that bet if I were you. He can keep going for a long time."

Six minutes. That's how long it took him to realize he could not make me come with that thing. Six minutes, and during those six minutes, my friend took a bunch of pictures of me looking bored and giving her the finger.

He gave up, put the hitachi down, tortured me in other ways for a few more minutes, made a bunch of vague threats, and left.
As soon as he left, I asked my friend: "Can play with that thing some more?"
"Sure," she said. "Don't mind me, I'm just looking at my phone."

So I started some self exploration with this hitachi toy. It was a little bit harrowing, and kinda exciting at the same time, knowing her Master might walk back inside any second, and if he did, he would be greeted with the vision of me with my legs spread, my panties pushed to the side, the hitachi shoved well up my cunt.

Now this is where things started getting surreal.
I was getting really into it, really enjoying myself...when my friend, that lovable BRAT, started playing the theme song to the "Will It Blend" videos.

Here's the thing: Some time ago, Husband threatened to train me to get wet every time I hear the "Will It Blend" theme song—and he has been making good on his threat. I can't even remember why he decided to do this to me, or what brought it on. But in my opinion, it's one of the most despicable things he's ever done to me, and that's saying something.
And I, stupid me, I made the mistake of telling my friend what Husband has been up to lately.

When I heard that "Will It Blend" song come on in the dungeon, I was snapped back into reality.
"Really?" I yelled. "Really?"
"I'm just trying to help Husband," she said sweetly. She said some more things about reinforcing my relationship and being a good helper, I think; but I'm not sure exactly what she said, because I was too busy cursing her out at that point.
She returned to looking at her phone screen as if nothing had happened.

It took me a while to come, but I did. With the knowledge her Master could walk in on me at any moment, and the Will It Blend song playing in the background, I came.
It was...nice. I'm not gonna say my orgasm with that hitachi was any better than the ones I get with my own vibrator. It was about the same, I think.
But damn that scene took a surreal turn I hadn't been expecting.

I didn't tell her Master I had come with the hitachi after he'd left the dungeon; I let my friend tell him after I'd gone home.
Frankly, I consider that tidbit a victory for me.
I usually suffer for my victories later. But right now? Score one for Shelby.

Addendum: When I told Husband how my morning went, he immediately told me he's now going to buy a hitachi with a variable speed controller, and find a way to program the thing to work in harmony with the Will It Blend Song.
NOOooo

Ten Things Not to Say to Your Master After Being Punished at His Feet

1. Oh wow, that's it? And here I thought I was in some trouble.

2. I'm not laughing at you, really, it's just, your accent is so cute.

3. You need a new dandruff shampoo. It felt like you were snowing on me.

4. I hate to say it, but I'm beginning to notice you really need to work out more. Especially your arms.

5. You know, at some point you're going to have to start thinking you're getting too old for this.

6. Yeah, sure I learned my lesson—whatever.

7. What was I supposed to stop doing again?

8. You should cut your toe nails. What the fuck did I say? What else am I supposed to look at while I'm kneeling down there?

9. Are we done now? Good. So let me tell you about the conversation I had with my mother.

10. It's too bad you didn't take pictures while you were doing it.

I Fisted Myself

Last night, after visiting a fun munch, I came home to discover Sons 1&2 were out, and Son3 was already fast asleep. In our house, this magic alignment of the stars means only one thing:
BOOM! Husband and I can make some noise.

We started out soft and slow: talking, caressing, and relaxing into each other on the bed. Since we were about to have sex, it was natural that our topic of conversation be sex related, and we shared a few nonsensical whimsies with each other, the kind of silly intimacies that fill you with a heightened sense of awareness about the other person.
We got onto the subject of fisting, and I mentioned to him again I would love the opportunity to fist another woman. Now, I've mentioned this to him many times before; I wasn't telling him anything new. But for some reason, last night, this fact tapped his cerebral cortex.
"If you really want to fist a woman," he said, "you could start with yourself."
"That's not possible," I scoffed. "I can't fist myself."
"I bet you can. You won't know unless you try."
I paused for second to look at him. "Are you serious? You want me to fist myself?"
"Absolutely!"
As he bounded off the bed to get the lube, I realize he had taken my question of disbelief as a sign of enthusiasm.
I was in for it now.

He set me up with a pillow under my butt, and ordered me to spread my legs.
"I'm going to go first, to get you ready," he said.
Gee, thanks, I thought.
For the next few minutes, I didn't really think anything anymore, because I do like fisting, and Husband knows what he's doing.
But I was nervous, too, about what was to come, and my nervousness made me tight.
"Relax, this is going to take a few minutes," he said, easing his hand in further.
"It should take more than a few minutes!" I grunted.
"You're tight."
"I'm scared."
"Don't be scared. I'm preparing you. You can do it."

A few minutes later, he pulled his hand out...and ordered me to put mine in.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," I kept saying. "This is not going to work."
Husband held my leg out wider. "Just reach in...c'mon...you can do it."

I slipped my hand inside myself. Now, I'm no prude; I've touched myself down there many times before, for the sake of tampons and hygiene. But this? This was way different. I wasn't just touching myself, I was sticking my whole hand in there...and Husband's face was right there, watching me.
I felt...sticky. And a lot more roomier than I'm used to. His own hand had really stretched me out. I hadn't been expecting that.
I wasn't expecting how easily my hand fit in there.
I wasn't expecting how much I'd like it.

Husband kept moving my legs around and pulling me up so I could reach in more. "There you go," he said proudly. "How does it feel?"
"Sticky," I said. "And weird."
"I don't think it's weird. I think this is fucking hot. Where's your phone?"
"Downstairs."
"Damn, I can't get a picture."

The scene lasted a few more minutes like that, then we progressed on to other things.

After everything was over, and we were back on the bed, sated and showered, he remarked again how hot I looked, fisting myself.
"We'll need to do this again," he said. "So you can have pictures. You can put them on your blog." He was quiet for a moment.
A quiet, thinking Husband is always a dangerous situation.
"You know what?" He said, the excitement high in his voice. "You should do a whole 'Will It Fit?' series on your blog. We can plan on different things to try, and every time we do, we can take pictures. It'll be fun." (He started humming the tune from the "Will It Blend" series on Youtube. Yes, he can be a dork, but he is a sadistic dork, what can I tell you.)
"It'll be...fun?" I said. "What kinds of things do you have in mind?"
"Some stuff we have in the garage...do you really want to know more?"
"No!"
I tried to turn away in horror, but he grabbed me, kissed my head, and laughed.

So now I have joined the proud (are we proud? Let's say we are) ranks of women who can say they've fisted themselves. It's sticky. It's also kind of
(REALLY)
degrading...which I guess for me, is what adds to the fun.
I have no idea what Husband is planning next. After all these years, that man still keeps me guessing.
But stay tuned, because pictures are coming.

I'll Take the Pity

Most of my friends are already aware of what I'm about to say. However, do to recent events, I thought I'd make the information more public, and put it in a post.

I suffer from drivers anxiety. 

What this means is that I don't just dislike driving, I experience actual distress and dread as I drive, no matter where I go. 

Most of the time, when I'm driving to or from somewhere familiar, I'm able to keep the anxiety level really low. I turn on the radio or my music, and I relax. It gets harder when I hit traffic, or there's an accident in front of me. But I deal. 

I keep my driving radius pretty small, and I avoid highways whenever possible. I'm usually willing to make my driving time up to a 50% longer if I can avoid highways. Highway 85 is bit easier for me, because there's a long stretch where trucks are prohibited. But the 101? That's really hard for me. 

The people in my life know about my anxiety. It doesn't just hit me when I'm the one who's driving; I get nervous whenever I'm in a driving car. Sometimes they use my anxiety against me, to create impromptu scenes—like that night I got so scared in the backseat of the car, I had to put a blanket over my head. (Yes, hilarity ensued, and pictures were taken.)

Sometimes, my anxiety drives the people in my life crazy. And I'm sorry for that. 

For the past year or so, I've been able to attend more events in other cities, because Mistress Vicki and I have come to a mutually beneficial arrangement where she drives my car to and from events. But that is not always possible. 

I have missed events I desperately wanted to go to, because I could not figure out a way to get there (or home), and I was too ashamed to admit I couldn't just drive myself. 

I'm sorry for that, too. 

I'm asking for some compassion here. Yes, I realize it's ridiculous that a 39 (almost 40) year old woman is afraid to drive. Go ahead and laugh; I know it's pathetic. If all you can offer me is pity, then offer me that. 

But please don't think I don't want to see my friends, or that I don't care, or that I'm just not bothering to make time. Believe me, if I could just get in the car and drive for an hour (or more) to see you guys, I would. But I can't. 

I'm sorry. I'll take the pity—and the contempt that always comes along with it—but please try to understand.