Puzzles and Problems

It’s there, but goodness only knows where it is. No amount of standard levers will shift this particular boulder, slap him, push him, sit on him and none of these things push him there.

It’s day 3 of his visit and he’s finishing off the crunchy bakery bread toasts and fluffed up scrambled eggs I made for him. We’ve been having sex in a cycle of squirming, fucking and recovery for the last two days and I am giving my cunt a break after a combination of size and first time tension has left it a little beat up. He’s giving his cock a break, every so often checking it for bruises with the care of a man tending to horse after a hard ride.

Sex Ed does not prepare you for being slick wet with arousal and then the muscles of your cunt not wanting to yield. It doesn’t cover fucking so hard you have to take into account his equipment damage. It also doesn’t cover god damned former LEO using completely non-damaging restraint holds on you so you are forced to return to the mental drawing board.

I think he was a bit concerned that my sadism was going under but I managed to communicate it’s not about pain, it is about control. And a very specific reaction. The sexual chemistry is off the charts, nuzzling, skin and scent hungry. He watches how the lightest brush flushes my face and notes he can smell the shift in me as I crave more of him. I can feel a few little wriggles to get cozier and his cock has started to stiffen.

He goes to cutesy kiss is fingers and then put the kiss onto my lips and finds the wetness as I suck his finger into my mouth. I don’t think he realizes how sexual I am.

Lying next to him, twined up, he sees the mental calculations. He’s enjoying the novelty of a girlfriend after seven years a bachelor. Picky prince, he’s still feeling out the realness, same as me. So much you can’t say over the phone or in text. Can’t show him I can cook. Can’t show him the way his breath on my neck causes me to go into lordosis.

Can’t quantify a feeling of needing power. Brick’s been about a bit, enjoying plenty of creative nerd sex with plenty of willing women, but I don’t think he’s really dealt with my desire to have him.

Also he has no idea how to give up control. He acknowledges my dominance and finds it inherently arousing, and enjoys my cheerful willingness to expand to the limits of what strives to contain me until I stretch it into a skin in the mould of my self.

But outside that minute immediately around his orgasm he has literally no idea how to let go. I don’t think he knows how.


Goingto be interesting watching him figure this out.


On The Cultural Limits of Conventional Femdom

So in addition to neglecting my femdom blog, I’m an avid participator in nerdy hobbies like roleplaying. Realistically this has always intersected with my sexuality- once I was charting my path beyond my parents running a tabletop for me.  I got interested in it partially because my head craves weird dynamics I can’t find in real life. Since my teens I’ve deliberately played with this.

I participated in a large LARP organization recently, where I played a stupidly popular character.  And what I discovered about this was how much people LOVE a dominant woman. Grown ass men calling me Mommy. Piles of people pledging fealty. Going out there and being me was a crucial part of the success of the character because the same energy I bring when my dominance gets to shine was present in the rambunctious, bawdy, loving ball of fluff that I played.  And it continues to remind me how disempowering the standard femdom shit is.

My character got gacked and part of the sadness I had to process is this outlet for a part of me to safely let my dom out was cut off. Once again, no place to be my whole self. (Although perhaps I should try living authentically instead of through fiction? The world is not very nice to dominant girls.)

I can say this and people will argue until the cows come home that it isn’t because they personally feel empowered by it, but the whole concept of being a dominatrix is a performative straight jacket created to give a context to have power in a limited context that’s “safe”. You put on the leather trousers and use the understood scripts and everyone has the jist of what you are trying to do, so presto- dominance!

There’s good reasons, since raw and undefined dynamics are potentially dangerous. The character of a dominatrix lets everyone wrangle consent in easier than starting from a blank slate and then trying to explain “so you are my victim and thrall but also you want it and are not being raped for real just vulnerable like an amusement park ride because I would never, ever hurt you”. Since part of dominance is buy in, it’s understandable to fall back something people but into easily.

Only that’s been jamming a square peg into a round hole from day one. Not a lot of room for complex sadomasochists who don’t fit Dungeon Mistress well.  Serious talk about it gets as far as accepting that being a dominatrix supersedes things like physical comfort, but  not that it’s bullshit in a world where femsubs get to fetishize regular dudes in power positions and I need a corset and implications of sex work.

There’s no space to talk about how my fetish self is Queen Elizabeth I not Ilsa Shewolf of the SS. There’s no space to be an insecure mess who also needs to be respected. To talk about your needs as something more than a menu of kinks, or worse, a dismissive declaration that the sub’s needs are irrelevant, is hard. But those options leave my needs unmet.

For example there doesn’t seem to be space to talk about preparing to feel sexually dominant by cleaning my bedroom floor and dusting, because I intend to have a man here and I must feel utterly in control of my space.  If I talk about the profound need to nurture my partner people will twig into it, but it’s not in the porn and it’s not in the archetypes.

As I write this, it’s doing that dusting and putting things to rights. I could have done this earlier, taken the bristle brush to the tiles of the bathroom, found the cobwebs in their corners and removed them (I fall on a medium on the neatness scale, much as I am neither extroverted or introverted) but it’s a good way to get my head in order. Momentarily I get to launch into some laundry, again, working to claim my space so I can claim someone else.

Scrub. Scrub. Visions of his naked body, the too long legs, the rust blond on his belly and chest and the odd shock of black hair on his lower back. I’m not offering him conventional femdom, but I suppose he’s not offering conventional submission.

Anticipate, court. Seduce. He said that while he’d aware the capacity is there most women just don’t do it for him. Is he asking for the conventional script done well or something else? What is the serendipitous leap that we need, that any couple needs to get that sing and sting of a unification between two people trying to make an exchange of power?

I cannot be anyone’s dominatrix. I can neither put that part of myself and its desire aside. So I think about this now, making my space mine before I make him mine.

Ending 2017

For Auld Lang Syne, whatever the heck that means.

2017 is over.

Breaking up with Wildcard has led to a unique amount of closure because it was so non-adversarial. I like to think it was even heathy, if painful. The longer apart I am from him, the more I find myself appreciating him as a person and the resentment I was starting to accumulate abating.

It’s been less productive than I’d like these last few months, but I suppose I have also enjoyed a certain degree of relaxation. I would write, but I don’t necessarily feel the appropriate level of simultaneous distance and investment to churn something out.

I both need to have perspective if I talk about Brick (or anyone), because of a certain degree of shielding I do, but also passion enough to fuel something readable.  I don’t just traipse in and hammer out every feeling in my head here, because while I’m fairly comfortable with my own vulnerability, leaving a legacy of rambling for other people is something that takes more scrupulous behaviour.

For example if I talk in the moment about how monstrously filled with all consuming desire I am, and resultingly how hard an LDR is, in the moment, the whining will be sincere, but in a public blog leave a particular impression. It is not a good sign when your post launches a flurry of supportive private messages unless it is an actual crisis.

I am doing Vanilla writing outside this blog, but my relationship with the erotic is complicated because I have worked out the uncomfortable truth that part of my behaviour is powered by seeking and having a muse, and talking about the slice-of-life sexuality that makes for my best posts, outside of the angry funny ones.

I am so fucking PISSED at the Montreal BDSM scene, that collapsed into nurturing abusive people. Urban Dungeon found a new sponsor and a new name (Le Triskelion), carrying on post rebranding with none the wiser and a fresh batch of victims.

A bunch of people who should know better claim that he has mad amends, and everyone is too attached to having limited venue space to care about the noxious reputation attached. I regret that I can’t stop this trend of actively self harming behaviour, but the whole thing being foul and rotten to the core makes me simply not want to invest much into it.

Although probably getting doxxed by my so called allies is pretty up there in terms of why Montreal needs a break from Miss Pearl. There’s a certain point when people don’t fundementally respect you as a person you can’t help them.

That’s not to say all is lost- I hear amazing things from Tension. A nice, clean, safe rope space- if only shibari was one of my fetishes! Opale cleaned up and gave HK  the boot. But “The Center” and “Le Triskelion” being the babies of people I consider horrible, and the other games in town being mostly oriented around Rope, I am giving stuff a pass.

I’m also planning to move to Vancouver in February. Prepare, I am coming. >:)

I get two kinds of letters as a result of this blog, people trying to hire me for domination services and people appreciating that I put this out there. The latter people make my day (month, really), while the former make me facepalm. If you like the stuff I write, give me money. I love money. But understand I have no business being a professional dominant. The extent I can dabble in sex work is demanding decriminalization, being an ally and writing porn. I’m not a cam girl, findom, etc…

In less than a week Brick visits Montreal. Tuesday he ends up in my large but under furnished apartment. This is going to be interesting.

I have two feelings- the mere thought of his arrival causes instant rampant arousal. Then I get kind of nervous, somehow feeling it won’t be enough, etc, etc…  Not much I can do other than trust that it’s good for both of us to get some in person time where I am not all set to shine like I was in our last flesh-meeting.

I love him, but I also am aware that this is very new, and that I am gambling a lot on an emotional connection. So next week is about transcending that. being me, real and mundane.