In response to an essay my friend Betty C wrote over at Fetlife musing on the concept of “forced adoration” as a shadow twin to forced humiliation, a relatively common BDSM practice, a writing that quickly made Kinky and Popular (a kind of greatest hits stream for the kinky social network), my friend Ferrett made this blog post ruminating on the importance of being able to accept compliments and promptly declared yesterday “National Accept-the-Niceness Day.”
In the writing, » Read more
Last week, my parents made the trip out here from Maine to see me for the first time in a year and a half. This was the first time they’d get to see where I was staying out here in Ohio, our house, our lovely town. And it was the first time they’d meet Skyspook. » Read more
I cannot remember a time that I wasn’t terrified of snakes. One of my earliest memories is of the summer my family lived in Buffalo in company housing, technically an efficiency, but for our family of six, it served as little more than a glorified hotel room. I was three years old, so much of that time is represented by singular images taken out of context, » Read more
One thing I’ve been working on as part of my treatment for dependent personality disorder is learning to trust my own judgment. My natural inclination before was just to assume others knew better than I did, effectively placing everyone up on a pedestal until they did something that demonstrated that they no longer belonged there. » Read more
Something about buying a wedding dress makes the upcoming wedding seem so much more real.
“Page, this is so you!” Legalista says.
I study myself in the mirror. Chic, sexy, elegant, nostalgic. 50’s flavor without being cartoonish about it. It is a style I’d never worn but one that suits me to a T. » Read more
Skyspook, I love folding your clothes.
Most people would see these as pieces of fabric, but I see you in every one. They’re where you spend most of your days, armor protecting you from the world.
Sorting into piles, I ruminate on who you are, who you’ve been, who you’ll one day be – not to find answers but to enjoy the way the questions echo with no one to answer them. » Read more
“I said love. Why does that almost always translate to something sexual for you?”
It’s just an SMS on a 2-inch screen. It shouldn’t be filling my eyes with tears, doubling me over in pain, making my world spin.
I text Skyspook a quick apology for reading sexual undercurrents into the message he’d sent earlier. » Read more
When I love you, I love to watch you touch yourself the way you like to be touched, love to see you get lost in yourself, surrender to sensation. It’s an opportunity to glimpse into your sexual inner life, see traces of that force within you that compels you to connect, to move, to drive forward. » Read more
Occasionally, I wonder if I belong on “the scene,” curious because I regularly go to parties and events and have even toyed with the idea of teaching a class or two – and then after rejecting or ignoring a few dozen advances, I start to ask myself: Am I in the right place? Or is the scene better left to people who are still looking for play partners, » Read more
My bike’s tires are a lot like me. Cautious and a bit clingy but reliable. They grip the road snugly, though they make it difficult to keep up with Skyspook on our rides, slowing me down. His tires are larger, smoother, thinner, flick over the road with ease. He’s had 3 flats but knows how to fix them and has done so each time, » Read more