The end

I played with Lydia for the final time last night. Unless she’s going to retire in the manner of a 70’s rockstar, with endless comeback tours, I’m going to have to adapt to life without her.

Our sessions are usually intense, but this last one was particularly so. Layering sensations is traditionally a big part of our play. Last night in the space of about 30 seconds I was screaming in pain, struggling for oxygen, moaning in orgasm, laughing in relief and crying at the finality of it. Being sweaty, sticky and teary makes for an interesting post session clean up.

She has left me with a lot of memories. I remember her look of concentration when trying to get a needle in just the right place. I remember her professionalism. In hundreds of sessions she was always on time, always prepared and never ever cut corners. I remember her gleeful sadism. She could always channel her inner child playground bully to magical effect. I remember her imagination. Elaborate bondage or interesting predicaments were often the result of ideas she’d dreamed up days earlier. I remember her creativity and the great dynamic we shared. Most of all I remember her laughter. We laughed often together, but the commonest reason for her was my growling or snarling at some particularly sadistic thing she’d done. I might scream or moan in the really intense parts, but it was afterwards, in the quieter moments, that a pinch or a squeeze could trigger a growl from me and a happy laugh from her. I’ll miss that most of all.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to curl up on the couch with several stiff drinks and binge watch Buffy Season 2. I feel in the mood for some teenage angst and heartbreak featuring vampires. I’ll leave you with an image of Lydia very much as I remember her. That’s obviously not me with her in the photograph, but it does show her smile and the kind of play we so often enjoyed together.

LydiaSmiling

Sculpture

Femdom sculpture is a rare thing. There might be millions of femdom photographs and tens of thousands of drawings, but I’m hard pressed to find many examples of sculpture. The only previous occasion I posted an example was here, and that was a particularly modern interpretation. The cast bronze piece below has a more traditional slant. Now I just need to find some femdom interpretative dance and I’ll have featured a full range of fine arts.

Bronze Femdom SculptureThis is by the artist Tom Maseau. Unfortunately I’ve been unable to track down any biographical information on him.

One careful kinky owner

I received an email the other day asking advice on selling bondage furniture. Somebody had a large item they wanted to sell and wasn’t sure where to do so. They didn’t think eBay or Craigslist were suitable. I’ve never actually faced this problem so I couldn’t help. Instead I thought I’d throw the problem to my readers. Where do people sell BDSM furniture? Do the standard sites deal OK with kinky items? Are there any specialized alternatives? Feel free to leave a comment if you’ve experience in this area.

For an image I thought I’d feature a scene with an amazing amount of fancy equipment. This looks like a kinky mad scientist raided a 50’s film set and a modern fetish store. Judging by the white plastic chair, a garden supply store also featured in the shopping spree. The lovely lady is Mistress Eleise De Lacy from the Femme Fatale Films site.

Extreme Femdom Bondage

Keep it down in there

Stories about noisy kinksters scaring the neighbors and getting a visit from the local authorities are not uncommon. I featured the story of Mistress Evilyne and her nosy neighbors a few posts back. The latest example is this story from Germany featuring a vocal kinky couple. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or scared that the police had to force the door down to get their attention.

This kind of thing might seem amusing, but it can have very significant consequences. In many US states, including mine, the police have a mandatory arrest law for domestic violence. What this means is that the police will always arrest someone if they believe there is probably cause that any kind of domestic violence occurred in the last few hours. It doesn’t matter what the ‘victim’ says or what the context was – somebody is going away in the back of the police car. The word of a neighbor, marks on a body or just an anonymous report of suspected violence is enough to get you arrested with no discretion allowed.

I understand the rational behind the law. A genuine victim of domestic violence needs the opportunity to escape from his or her abuser. They might not feel able to speak up until they’ve been separated. Yet for kinksters it can have serious consequences. It’s one thing to have your friends and neighbors know you’re kinky. Quite another to have them think you’re a domestic abuser after seeing you taken away in a police car.

I actually know (indirectly) of a Seattle couple this happened to. They thought their playroom was more soundproof than it actually was. The end result was not only an arrest after the neighbors reported the noise, but a full blown court case featuring their friends called as witnesses. It didn’t matter that the submissive repeatedly told everyone it was consensual activity. Justice is not only blind, but also slow and frequently stupid.

WhipMarksI’m not sure who these lovely whip marks belong to, but I hope they were inflicted in a soundproof space. They look like they’d have resulted in some serious screaming.

Beefy pets

This lovely drawing of a pet and his owner is from the artist Silk Box. The text that accompanied the original tumblr post is well worth quoting in its entirety.

I was thinking about dogs, and then I was thinking about pets, and then I was thinking about beefy pets that are well-trained and sleep in an alcove under your bed, and do 50 pushups while you sit on top of them, and lick your breakfast from your fingertips and sit and lie down and spread their legs when you command it, and anyway.

Pet

Pegging your way to the top

Abbi Jacobson, star of Broad City, was recently snubbed for an Emmy nomination. She responded in humorous fashion with the tweet “Who do you have to peg in this town??!” Given there are about 15,000 people who can vote the Emmy’s, the answer is quite a lot of bottoms.

I’ve not actually seen the show, but I have seen the clip that inspired the joke. Hopefully the humorous but positive way they tackled the idea will encourage many more couples to experience the joy of a damn good pegging.

Pegging with a SmileI’m afraid I don’t know who this happy pegger is.

You’re plugged!

The last couple of posts have been kind of serious, so it’s probably about time to lighten this blog up a bit. With that idea in mind, I bring you the Donald Trump Butt Plug. That should put a smile on everyone’s face, apart from The Donald.

I’ve always considered Donald Trump a kind of one man comedy show. If you treated his public persona as a kind of advanced performance art piece it can be pretty entertaining. Unfortunately with his immigration comments he crossed the line from buffoon into racist rabble rousing, which does tend to kill the humorous angle. The butt plug in the current design isn’t actually safe to stuff up your ass, but it certainly would make for a striking decorative conversation piece. There aren’t many butt plugs sporting a combover.

Vegetable Butt PlugThis artwork is from Waldo. It looks like a science experiment in progress. I only hope she doesn’t have a marrow on her ‘to try’ list.

Regrets, I’ve had a few

I played with Lydia tonight. It was our penultimate session. It was fun, with lots of breathplay and CBT, but also kind of bittersweet. It was hard to stop myself thinking “Oh, that’s probably the last time we’ll ever do this particularly thing again” at odd moments. Although getting caned across the nipples did tend to banish most thoughts other than “Owww!”

Although I’m obviously sad about this situation, at the same time I’m grateful to have been some small part of her amazing career as a pro-domme. What I really regret isn’t this ending, it’s the start. More specifically, that I started so late and didn’t explore my kinks with her years earlier. If I had, I could have been looking back on a decade or more of play with her. If I could give one piece of advice it would be to try new things and explore your kinks. If you’re thinking of seeing a pro-domme for the first time, or going to a munch, or suggesting something new to a partner, then go for it. Better to try and fail than to regret not trying later in life.

CollarNo real reason to feature this image, other than I thought it was kind of sweet. I’m afraid I don’t have a source for it.

An ending

This has been a depressing week for me for a number of reasons. Some of those I can’t share here, but the one I can share is a big one: Lydia is retiring. Regular readers will be aware that Lydia is the domme I’ve played with for years and has been a big part of my development both as a person and as a submissive. I’ve documented a small fraction of our play on this blog (for example here, here, here and many more). Amazingly she was actually the first pro-domme I ever played with, almost 6 years ago now, and we’ve got together for 2-3 hours every couple of weeks ever since then. Hearing that she planned to retire, and possibly leave Seattle, wasn’t entirely surprising but it really shook me up.

From a purely selfish and practical perspective I’m going to miss the joy of playing with her. She’s without doubt the most talented domme I’ve ever interacted with. In what is literally hundreds of sessions that we’ve done together, I can’t think of one time where it felt like we were repeating something or simply going through the motions. Every time I stepped out of my clothes, and went to meet her naked and smiling, it was the beginning of something magical. Certain activities formed common starting points – piercing, corporal, bondage, breathplay – but each time she’d take our play in some new exciting direction.

Emotionally it has hit me pretty hard. Partly because I’m not sure how to process it. I’m not someone who ever had a problem with the professional boundary. I’m not saying I’d have turned down the chance to make it a non-professional relationship, but that was never anything I expected or particularly hoped for. I just enjoyed the relationship for what it was. Now its ending I don’t have a natural way to move through the change. I end other professional relationships all the time, but my realtor or doctor hasn’t spent hundreds of hours with me in very intimate and intense sexual situations. The closest analogy I can draw is to losing a very close friend. Someone important to you and who knew you in a way nobody else did, is suddenly no longer going to be in your life.

Fortunately there a few weeks left before she hangs up her whip (as a professional at least), and I have the chance to play with her a couple more times. It’ll be kind of strange. I almost didn’t want to play again at all. But given all the fun we’ve had together, it seemed like it’d be silly not to enjoy our last opportunity. I’ve never yet cried in a session, no matter how hard the beating. I’ll be kind of ironic if I end up crying when the beating stops.

Bound man on bed