Dog Days / Blog Days

I have no idea if I have participated in the “Blogs Days of Summer” meme before, though the title is familiar so it’s possible I have.

Or maybe I just recall seeing it around the blogosphere, I dunno.

In any case, here I am giving it a go, because I am all about having a reason to try and blog daily (I mean more than just “because.”) I’m not going to get my panties in a twist if I don’t manage it, but, you know, it’d be nice to hit that 3x week task assignment, now wouldn’t it?

Speaking of that, I did not make that goal/complete that task last week. There were reasons…the Hypnotist and I spent a lot of (wonderful, blissful, sexy, hypnotic, kinky and even *gasp* “normal people”) time together, more than usual, this past week, so it was hard to squeeze in that one last blog post of the required three. BUT…better time management on my part in the beginning of the week is what was called for, so it was my responsibility to make sure it happened. And as a result…apparently I have a correction coming. I have no idea what form that might take. Aside from a couple thigh pinches we haven’t done this before, nor really discussed what that might look like. And I’m okay with that. I need consistency, and I want to be held accountable (and to hold myself accountable) and…course corrections are part of that. I’ll accept my just due (or “comeuppance,” as the Canadian often terms it) in good grace. I have no doubt that K will be fair in its meting out.

On a related topic, I’ve surprised myself at how much receiving his “good girl” has come to mean to me. I got up this AM to run – even though my bed was sooo comfy – because I wanted to read his “Good girl!” text to me. I made sure I got out the door on time the other day for the same reason. I had wondered before if it would feel patronizing on some level. But it hasn’t, and the good feeling I get only gets stronger as we go along. And then, hearing him say “there’s my girl,” or that I’m his girl? Squishies all over the place, from my head to my toes and all the special places in between. I am apparently becoming programmed.

(Haha, I know he will appreciate this – I was struggling for the word for what Pavlov did with his dogs (conditioned behavior) and put in “programmed” in the Thesaurus and it gave me “brainwashed.” Now there’s some warm, wet squishies.)

Anywaaaaay…watch this space. I hope to be around here a lot this August!

One Hot Weekend

Oh that could be taken so many ways. This past weekend, it can be taken in all the ways.

  1. Hot House. The A/C went out at our house Thursday and we couldn’t get it serviced until Tuesday, after what were forecasted to be 95+ degree temps over the 4th. We (K and I) went down to my friend’s lake house Friday night instead of staying at the Hot House. Originally we were all supposed to go down together, Ad, K and I, on Saturday, but Adam had to stay to work his Saturday shift, so K and I went down early so we could avoid some of the heat. It wasn’t that big a departure from we would have been doing anyway, since Friday night was a date night with K – we just spent our date night grocery shopping, then driving to the lake, and then introducing him to my friends.
  2. Hot Weather. As mentioned, the temps were in the high 90’s all weekend. One of the days it was even 100 degrees I think. We solved this problem by spending as much time in the water as possible. We boated and swam and I jumped off a really high platform and the side of the boat and lounged around on a froggy pad. I showed K how to kayak, one of my favorite water sports, and we rode wave runners – my girlfriend V (not my ex V, lol) terrifying me as always (I’m always the passenger) before handing me off to K (“Here, do you want to take the giggle-puss?” He did want to.) He did not terrify me as much as she had, and in fact warned me when he was going to spin us around or go stupid fast (which I greatly appreciated.) And throughout it all I managed not to sunburn, though I am sure my skin cancer doc will not be happy about the amount of freckles I am sporting. I, however, adore them.
  3. Hot Spankings. Did I mention that this was supposed to be a vanilla weekend? No kink, and K was supposed to be a friend of ours, not my lover, not my Dom. But because K and I had gone down a night early, we didn’t have to pretend (it was only for our hosts’ family, who were coming down late Saturday.) It was a birthday weekend for M, V’s husband. The past two years I have offered my ass up to him for his bday spankings, but due to pandemic and all, I never got to take them. So, you know, me being me, I offered to take them all at once before the rest of the guests arrived. Because of course! K had fun watching me do the math, and then we were off…paddles and hands and spoons and giggles and whacks and me counting…somewhat coherently. Well, for awhile. At some point I lost count, or maybe I lost how to count, and started in by 10’s (it made sense in my head.) And then, I don’t know what happened, I just started spewing randomish numbers. I mean, they were in the vacinity of the right numbers…like 150 or something. I know this because I have been told the story by K, who gets a devilish amusement from it. I assume it made sense in my head at the time. Maths are hard, okay?! But then, finally, it was K’s turn. Because, see, up to this point M & V had been giving me the bday spankings. But K had decided to use his belt for his turn, and they got to the end before he took a turn. “But I want his belt!!” I may have wailed. Or whined, or begged. Because I love it when he hurts me. I love all the things about it. I may have to talk about that more. (I hope I have lots more opportunity to talk about it lots more!) Anyway…yeah. Um, I got his belt. And it hurt. And I yelped and danced and whined and loved it, every minute. And that was the “hot” part of the hot spankings.
  4. Hot Sex. You knew I was going to get to it, didn’t you? Here’s some highlights:
    • Getting fingered under the stars on the back deck overlooking the lake, then reciprocating by giving him head right there too, the sweet taste of his cum on my tongue. (I might be a cock whore. I want to be his cock whore.)
    • Mornings spent rolling around with each other in the bed until the bedsheets were completely turned around and half off the bed (all his fault), his mouth between my legs or his fingers in my cunt, me writhing and panting and moaning and pleading to be allowed to come. And his cock in my mouth again, my greedy mouth, sucking and swallowing and feeling him tense and listening to his breath catch and then “fuck yes,” and then on a gasp: “I’m coming,” and then he does, holding my head down, pushing up into my mouth, my greedy mouth.
    • Or later, in the shower, his body soapy, my hands all over him, not intending to start anything but wanting to tease and touch and feel him. But then … I am not sure how we got to this exact place … but I had his cock between my legs, rubbing its soapy slippery length on my clit and my labia, and he must have made the suggestion that what I would feel was his cock inside me, because suddenly, oh yeah, he was fucking me or maybe I was fucking him, and I could feel him pushing inside me, and I was sliding down on him, my cuntlips opening, gulping him in that other greedy mouth, my cunt-mouth, sliding him in and out, and I was wet with my own juice, my own need, and then with his cum as he exploded inside me and I came all over his cock as he whispered in my ear, or in my mind, “That’s it, that’s it, cum on my cock…” (And Jesus fuck but I am getting wet remembering it.) And here’s the thing: it was all in my head, it was all mindplay, but it was so real and so fucking hot. And as we dried off he told me I’d keep feeling his cum inside me for awhile, and for the next hour or more, every time I dipped my fingers into my cunt – which I found myself doing far more than was probably considered polite (haha, how often is it “polite” to put your fingers into your pussy?) I could feel it and taste him.
    • And then there is his hand touching my knee while he drove and my legs falling open without hesitation, without volition even, waiting for him to touch me, whether it was with his voice or his fingers.
    • And the feeling of him being in my mind, just there at the edge, and my own mind opening up to him, waiting for his instruction. “Cum for me – now,” and I do. Whether or not he’s been touching me. My body just…reacts. Convulses, as the orgasm washes over me.
    • Later, after Adam finally makes it to the lake, and we are in the bed, all three of us. We have just co-slept for the first time, and it was natural and comfortable and I couldn’t believe we were doing it – I was there in the bed with both my men. And they are both teasing me, and then Ad is slapping my pussy, not hard, just enough to arouse me, so that when he stops I say no, keep doing it, and he does. And K is on my other side and he starts pinching my nipple. And I am riding between pleasure and pain, my brain and my body trying to process both at once, but it can’t, and finally I beg them to stop, because I can’t, I just can’t.
    • And oh – when did this happen? in the bed or in the car – K pushes back the hood to my clitoris to expose its sensitive nub and then he rolls and squeezes it between his thumb and finger, pulsing, gently and maybe not so gently. And it is painful and pleasureable and somehow makes me feel vulnerable and so very exposed and he makes me cum again.
    • Or another time, his hand around my throat, squeezing, and I am gasping, gulping for air, and I fight, staring into eyes, until I don’t fight anymore, I just … surrender. And it is okay, because surrender is what I want. Every time. And the way that he gets it, the way that he gets me there is such a bewildering, delightful mixture of mind and body and sex and kink and desire and submission, and…damn it…falling in love. But that’s for another post, isn’t it?
This was the vanilla portion of the weekend.

Kinky Bucket List Revisited

Someone on Twitter recently made a comment about my Kinky Bucket List. Honestly, it’s been a minute since I originally wrote that – I posted it in 2012! Ten years? Whew! There’s still a lot of things I haven’t done, and a lot of things that still resonate with me, but others…maybe not so much. I’ll probably need to go over it again at some point and update it; maybe revise it a bit. But if you’re interested in what kinds of kinky fuckery I get up to in my head, feel free to take a gander over there.

What I am interested in now though, what surprised (and delighted) me, was finding this on my list:

Experiencing erotic hypnosis – the ultimate scene would involve being hypnotized to believe that I have been drugged and have no control over my body, then to be used by several men, unable to move or help myself.

I had told K in one of our early hikes that I was interested in it. I’d seen it on his Fet profile after I’d met him in our kinky hiking group and I had wandered over to Fet to find out more about him. Just about every nerve ending stood bolt upright when I read that he was into it. But it still felt…transgressive…to talk to him about it. I had to steel up the nerves to do so. Erotic hypnosis – hypnokink – has been a hot button for me since the very beginning (as evidenced by my Kinky Bucket List!) But none of my other partners had been interested in it. (Now I am wondering where that book I bought V on the topic is…) To actually be talking to someone that was actually interested in the topic? Maybe not just interested, but practicing it??

God I wanted him to fuck my mind. (Just typing that makes me throb, makes me ache, makes me catch my breath.)

And now…now he is. Now he does. Fuck my mind. Now I am in a relationship in which hypnosis plays a large – a very large – part. K incorporates erotic hypnosis into our relationship, for play and deeper aspects of (consensual) conditioning and control. No, we haven’t played out the fantasy above (if that would even be possible) but we’ve played on some every hot edges and he’s trained(?) conditioned(?) me to orgasm on command, without any stimulation (except him in my head – which is really freaking stimulating, lol.)

I’ve spoken before about how keyed I get to my Dominant when in a D/s relationship. His desires become mine, his fantasies become mine. I am not subsumed by him, but I get so deeply tied to him that even when I don’t want to get turned on by the shit that turns him on, I do. It wasn’t until I started talking to K about hypnosis that I began to see a connection between allowing – maybe even wanting – myself to be conditioned by my D/s partner in this way and the things I find incredibly compelling about hypnosis. I’ve realized that I probably have a “very serious” kink for it. (Surprising to no one I’ve ever talked to about it, and K least of all, lol.)

So, here we are. Me, in my dining room writing to you, hot and bothered just thinking about him in my head, fucking my mind…controlling me; conditioning me this way. You, out there, probably wondering, is it real?

I can’t speak for anyone else’s experience. Sometimes I can barely find the words for my own. I could turn this into an argument about the nature of reality… What is “real”? We perceive everything through the filter of our minds… everything. So if he is between my legs, but not touching me with his hands, or cock, or anything else…and my mind is open to him, my subconscious, below the level of my thinking mind…and he is telling me that I am feeling him fucking me, feeling his cock press against my opening, feeling him pushing inside me… And I do, I feel him rocking against me, the weight of him, the pressure of him inside me…and my mind is telling me that these things are real… How is that any less real than my mind telling me that the sky is blue or water is wet?

Or if we are walking down a busy pathway to the river, and he tells me that I can feel the Lush inside me, feel it buzzing, as we walk, and my mind tells me that I can

There is a part of me now that is always open, always receptive, waiting to listen to him. To what he says to me, to what he doesn’t say, to what he wants, to what he tells me my body is doing, even if it is not something I am aware of actually doing until I am already there. I think, during our extended times together, that I am falling in and out of trance the whole time. I find myself focusing on the tracing of his fingers on my skin, or the sound of his voice, or his eyes, and suddenly I am there…tho it doesn’t feel sudden. It feels like a slow, dreamy slide into a place of waiting. Waiting to be commanded, to be controlled.

And I love it there.