A Sex Shop Date With Wildcard

sushiLast Saturday, Wildcard identified my doldrums as needing fixing, s we went out to watch Dr. Strange and then gorge on sushi, the latter activity almost  meaning a visit to the nearby sex shop, called “Romance“.

Every relationship has its rituals. I have an undying love for salmon, particularly raw or smoked. Wildcard has a tradition of eating his feelings in delicious all you can eat buffet omnoms. Having a favourite fishing hole, and being fond of me, he shared the location and now we make monthly pilgrimages. Faces get stuffed, then we invariably go sex toy shopping.

At first the shopping trips were an accidental extension of geography. The store just happens to be between us and where we always park. Honestly, showing up there started with very little expectation other than having a giggle at the hilari-bad porn DVDs.

This branch is open absurdly late, which was probably the first draw.  Plus, in addition to the breast shaped macaroni and strawberry flavoured lube (euch), they have an upstairs BDSM and fetish section. It’s an Adult Novelty style shop, but it is more than dick hats and copies of Pink Eye 2.

Still, why pay the markup?

You might wonder our motive for being there. After all, it is never going to be as cheap as shopping online. No brick and mortar store is going to beat a fresh-from-the-warehouse site like pinkcherry.ca in cost. If I want a bouquet of a half dozen riding crops,  I will never argue meatspace is cheaper.

I keep going back to Romance, because they beat even my favourite online retailers in immediate customer engagement. The staff cares about and is knowledgeable about all their stock. And, while online sites offer reviews, at a certain point you can’t beat actually touching the merchandise.

Going Hands On

Does it bounce well in the hand with a fleshy weight? How strong are the stitches in the leather? Can you slap it against your thigh to feel the thud or the sting? How does it stand up to my personal tastes? You can tell right away what will and won’t work for you.

For example, this time I wanted a cock ring for Wildcard. We’ve basically maxed out on vibes and insertables, but I wanted to take my teasing game a little further and make his erections more persistent.

Sure cock rings are a cheap grab. They seldom cost more than $20, unless you are moving into the territory of elaborate gilded ornaments. Still, I could have bought multiples online for the price of the one I got.  I paid the store markup because I wanted to actually handle the products properly, and get Wildcard’s immediate feedback. After all it was his penis about to be cinched.

At Romance, anything is available for reasonable in store testing, and I had six or so different sizes and models to play with and figure out which was best. Otherwise, I would either need to borrow a friend’s personal items (assuming I knew someone who did have one), or try my luck with buying before I try. Why gamble and create waste?

Curation Matters

Romance doesn’t stock the super high end, gold plated luxury brands, and while they have a few of the lower quality toys, they are carefully screened for skin safe material. The quality and price point runs a range, but nothing will cause a rash. They have recognizable brands, like Tantus, and various versions of the standards in less recognized brands: glass, masturbation sleeves, bullet vibes, etc… Nonetheless they have their share of the cheap quality stuff.

However, what makes me trust in the quality of their offerings are how they handle duds and poor purchases and how they constantly make purchasing a conversation.

corsetback

For example last shopping trip, I impulse bought a Music Legs branded corset back fishnet tights set. That’s not a band I’d expect much from, but even so, the quality was terrible, neither matching the claimed colours on the package, nor coming laced. Indeed the wretched things gave you your lace as a single length of uncut ribbon- unacceptable for an item fragile enough that the first wearing was likely the last.

Online shopping, you write an irate review, and maybe process a return with shipping at your own expense. The smaller ones have time to address you complaints, but there’s a lot more time and distance involved. Here, you get the immediate feedback and from the staff, checking if it was a one off and pulling the defective product, as well as making a note to discuss the problem with the supplier.

And their relationship building also works in the opposite direction. I admit a certain degree of entertainment in getting a post purchase inquiry into the effectiveness of other toys. As much as they are ready to take unsolicited feedback, when you shop they ask questions- and if they know you bought something in the past, they ask you about what your experience was.

So in all, I might buy most of my toys online or seek out pervertables from cooking supply and hardware stores, but the post sushi sex shop date isn’t going to stop any time soon.


Disclosure: I affiliated with pinkcherry after I realized I was giving them a bunch of business from simply bulk ordering cheapo toys and talking about it. Romance and Priape offer no compensation for being mentioned. The sushi pic is free stock photography from clker.com

 

Femdom Life: NO-vember Begins

A sleepy femdom made out of free clip art.November is prostate cancer and men’s health, diabetes and national novel writing month. It’s also the first quiet period I’ve had in a long time. Thus begins the month of Pearl Not Doing Things.

A major vanilla project I’m working on has started to wind down. I’ve dealt with the whole (alleged) serial rapist in the community and pitched a friend from my social group for less severe but definitely horrible things. Those of you that follow me on social media know it was an intense experience that drained a lot of my energy. That and I’ve got one of those persistent low grade health thingees that I need to spend some Canadian Healthcare on. And I was a bridesmaid, which did not entirely agree with me for various reasons mostly to do with being surrounded by happy other people’s families makes me sad mine sucks.

My job has suffered around all that, and I kind of need to focus harder on it. Bleh.

That being said, it hasn’t been all bad. Phantom review sent me a lovely package. You guys were incredibly supportive through the Herr Kommandandt thing and made a serious difference to getting the word out.

But I’m very, very tired, so I am taking the remainder of this month to catch up. I’ll still be on social media but I am adamantly refusing to organize any parties outside the pre-scheduled monthly munch, or worry about accomplishing anything with any sort of plan, deadline or performance expectation. Of course 99% of this is just removing hiatus guilt, since this blog has never been on any sort of sensible schedule, but I’m hoping to do crafts, read novels and if I write or make art, have it be for fun.

Although a part of me is super excited to start cleaning my apartment. Because of course that’s the kind of weirdo I am.

Oh and I want to make more time to actually have sex and less time to writing about it, or scolding people for being terrible about consent.

… I freely admit that about a week in and I’m still getting “omg I need to be USEFUL” jitters and trying to find something to plan and work on.

 

Fall, Projects, Relationships and Stuffs

cozyIt’s cuddling weather! <Squeeeeee>

Summer heat saps my energy, zapping my will to move and probably putting me at my most emotionally meh. Yeah, I have air conditioning, but then there’s a noisy fan and that weird dry-cold draft.

For me, the encroachment of fall always comes with a little burst of enthusiasm for life, something about the colour of the light, and the cool air. I’m about as far from Agrarian/Pastoral as you can get without living on the ISS, but the moment I can put on thick knit black tights is the moment I start skipping and hopping about.  And it’s the time when Wildcard stops scuttling to his side of the bed with a “don’t touch me you’re too WARM!!! T_T”

So what’s up with me?

The massive (vanilla) project I embarked on at the start of 2016 is starting to settle down, so as of February 2017 I have actual breathing room to work on other projects. The blog overhaul is basically done, although I might look into a better mobile browsing template and tweak a few things, for example making the title and logo smaller. I like it, but yes it occur

Again, a big thank you to the various people who helped out, particularly the Phantom Reviewer and the people who drove themselves crazy trying to figure out the source of the mystery space in my sidebar design. That’s resolved and my general web presence is much more part of a connected unified whole. I know because I’ve started getting messages on fetlife and elsewhere from blog fans going “ZOMG IT’S YOU!”

For such things does one write.

Yeah, yeah what about the porn?!

Writing-wise, as of January, I have a few projects I want to work on, including finishing up some story requests from people- JT is due for a misuse-of-professor story, while I have a second chapter of this superman porn parody 3/4 done, and of course that sequel to The Pet Gentleman is languishing, waiting or me to sit down and finish it already. Part of my goal for the first 6 months in 2-17 are setting aside time to bash what’s written into some semblance of sharable- something that’s been embarrassing delayed in a George RR Martin fashion for far too long.

That’s not even mentioning that I’d really rather be creating more general femdom stories for the blog than my current once every three months output. I suspect I’m not posting as much because I am getting exceptionally focused on perfection. The Friday femdom fiction in particular tends to stretch too damn long when I start writing them, which is the antithesis of what started as 500 word shorts to be dashed off in quantity. I managed one last week, but I can’t say I expect to have breathing room until October has passed.

Also video

In the mean time, I’ve also gotten into doing Periscope live feed videos, with an eye to eventually creating a youtube show. The trick is, of course the topic as I am currently just rambly, which is a topic in its own right, but I feel like I need more effort. Maybe I’ll vlog! Part of that is I finally said fuck it and put myself out there- I spent a good part of the last decade being careful “just in case” and have come to believe that while I don’t want to be stalked and harassed as much as the next person, I am never going to be vanilla-important enough to be penalized if I get recognized at my day job.

For the record, my day job is something that uses all those obnoxious high school math things I was very sure I wouldn’t need. Basically imagine me wearing a giant pair of headphones and hiding in a back cubicle somewhere slapping data into shape, not exactly the career path that gets derailed when someone sends your boss a nasty letter telling them that they employ a woman who likes certain aspects of sex. Also I’m out to my parents (my dad approves of my art as long as it makes money, I’m estranged from my mother, but she knows this exists).

So yeah, if you do Periscope, you can hear my voice and watch me flop about in hilariously low res. Also see the derp-tastic thumbnails the app captures. o_-

Love? Kink scene?

Wildcard and I are moving towards year 3 of our relationship. The official date is fuzzy, since we basically fell into bed shortly after he broke up with his ex, but held off putting a precise label on it for a while after, even if I have basically been living with him since November of 2013. We continue to be a part of the Montreal kink scene, with me running my monthly munch for four years, more or less. (Eeesh)

My love life goes as it should. It is not a D/s or M/s relationship, but it is a femdom relationship in the sense that I am a female dominant and I am in the relationship. Yeah, it’s complicated, but honestly if other people’s anecdotes are anything to go by, an explicitly power exchange dynamic isn’t really easier or more smoothly role defined.

Meanwhile the 18 to 35 meetup is one of Montreal’s more popular, long running events, filling a much needed niche and spawning other events. I won’t call them “copycat”, but they’re certainly on the same theme:  a 25-45 event, and 45+ exclusive thing. Although they are by function exclusionary, they end up creating more participation by serving one or more specific groups, sometimes accidentally- 1835 ate the flailing QueerNonBinaryLesbian bits that weren’t all supported at the time, and although there’s now a woman only munch (M.E.O.W.) I benefited from being a good space for lovely people.

Now we’re continuing to evolve as the kink scene in Montreal continues to get larger and larger. My biggest challenge for the coming months will be maintaining the great culture of the group, which is not a bad problem to have. That and at 30 I eventually need to consider phasing out of this and finding qualified volunteers to take over.

So I’m very much looking forward to what the end of the year will bring, but also the potential to hunker down and take a well needed break.

Art is borrowed from Hannah Hamilton of Verbal Vomit.

Busting the Burglar

It was (punish) Tuesday again, and I’ve been itching to try something. Usually, I’ve taken these preplanned interludes to practice my topping skills. They end with Wildcard in shuddering convulsions, the sign he’s taken his limit of cruel, hard hits. It’s very rewarding in its own way, the warm up, the steady pattern of ever increasing intensity and then finally the painful pulverization. He always asks to have his wrists bound and I tease my masochist when I check in, to see where he’s at, asking “more weight“, the defiant last words of the only sane man in Salem.

But it wasn’t a night for that. I could read, mostly from his desultory masturbation, that his stamina was limited. I had a long day too, and after spilling my guts at a therapist was in no mood to build a carefully accommodating psychological trap to compliment whatever implement I was going to pulverize his butt with.

I got him to put on all his clothes- he has starting in just a shirt. He didn’t know what to expect, although he knew I was taking control.

Then I ordered him to pick up his laptop and stand by the window, as if trying to escape.

While he had dressed I’d found a plastic water pistol, the safe, orange kind designed to not fool passerbys into a panic, and armed myself to defend against the “home invader”. I held him at gunpoint and berated.

He took a moment to understand, looking puzzled, but back in the day he was captain of his college improv club, and we met at a LARP, so he’s a quick study. Honestly narration comes easier than dialog- I’m impressed with myself too. I took the lead and he fed off my “reactions”, making himself into the scared thief I wanted.

I threatened to shoot him and made him put the stolen computer on the bed. Considering my prey, my talking turned from briskly intimidating to giving him glimpse of hope. By appeasing me and stripping, I made him feel he could escape the police or worse, a bullet. He was forced to accept my examination and fondling, play with himself until he was hard enough to meet my satisfaction.

I pushed him up against the wall by his throat and nudged his balls with the muzzle. I told him about my neighbours who would love to take advantage of a naked man in this bad, bad neighbourhood. I bent him over the bed and bare handed spanked him. Whenever he started to lose the least little focus, the gun was there as a reminder, pushing him into compliance. I needed to believe that I could scare him enough to make his strength stay suppressed.

In the two years since we started dating, Wildcard has put on muscle and confidence. I’m a good girlfriend and a good dom- campsite rules apply, and he’s better than when I found him- although I admit the work has been his and I’ve merely made a supportive environment for him to grow into. The change is that the man I’m dating now is not the sick, skinny and shaken person I could pin and lift and beat in a physical fight. I no longer have to worry I will steamroll him by simply expressing myself. Hence the orange plastic gun is a fig leaf, a symbol of the sincere submission and surrender he is giving, and I hold it in my hand with a great deal of joy.

I threaten him, pushing him all the way into the vestibule until he’s close enough to the smoked glass to see through the fog and pick out details on the street. He’s just a little terrified, like a roller coaster makes you think you’ll fall, he’s able to see the risk of being shoved out the door for everyone to see his nakedness, and feel like it’s real.

I talk up the risk. Through my words he knows that there is an involved, aggressive “sorority” down the street, an invention based on the female neighbours in my own past college residence, who reacted to a real, harassing flasher by rising together to prepare for battle. I’m keeping things light even as I talk about killing him, layering on the erotic with an eye to how his fetish for exposure gives me leverage.

There’s two tracks of dominance- one where there’s an angry woman blackmailing a burglar, and one where Miss Pearl knows every one of Wildcard’s buttons and just how to push them.

Bu the time the scene ends, and I give him only his shirt back, to cover himself in a clutched grip before banishing him to whatever fate awaits him on the street, he’s full of happy energy. In the vestibule, freed, he picks me up and bumps his crotch to mine, both of us giggling as he almost tipped over and dropped me on the floor. This is love.

Femdom Life: Getting What I Want

Dear reader, tonight was Punish Tuesday, our pre-organized kinky sex night, and I just got my brains fucked out.

I also did what I have never done before. And it wasn’t something you would easily guess. No, seriously!

One hour of foreplay for me. It sounds so improbably vanilla, right? The sad truth is that life isn’t like those bdsm stories where the dominant always gets her needs met. The reality is that either sex has worked for me or it hasn’t. Now Strong could be a generous enough lover, but we had so little time as a couple that he can be considered out of the discussion.

But it is almost embarassing that I’m almost a month shy of my 30th birthday and I’ve gotten so used to compromising what I needed that for all I can beat a man purple or tease his cock for an hour, asking for turn around physical attention was a taboo fetish.

So I stripped him and he and I cuddled up on the couch. One set timer later and he went to work with my body all lips and tongue and touching

Somewhere along the way, long before I appeared on the scene, Wildcard learned to work a woman’s body, with the same studious and attentive perfectionism and passion he puts into his cooking. But instead of rendering the fat of the roast chicken he’s salted and dismembered, he’s finding little spots between my fingers to nibble and zones on the back of my thighs to stroke.

And then as everything in me opened, he liesurely fucked me while I took that delicious sensitivity into an orgasm so loud I suspect the neighbours heard it through his desperate muffling hand. Apartment life.

Afterwards, with his erection lingering and my cunt having none of the freight train he likes to pretend is his penis, I filled his ass and gave him a slippey hand job – it mus have been intense because he was practically flapping his unrestrained arms.

 

Femdom Life: My Real Sex Life and Writing

Unfortunately the last six months have been about everything *but* my sexuality, and the blog has languished, although I still pay the hosting fees. And Jesus, being popular is NOT cheap. i might just put out a tip jar or something.

I’m not out of kink. I keep up with the monthly 18 to 35 meetups I host (Montreal folks, take note), and there have been exploits, but my sexuality has not been the point of my artistic focus. I moved house. I did a lot of therapy, once every two weeks, to deal with my serious abuse survivor issues. I took on a very social project and every scrap of my creative energy is feeding that. Meanwhile my job promoted me to something more challenging (and FUN) but it’s extra time and attention. and Wildcard’s sexuality decided to hide under the bed.

This is not to say that I didn’t get up to hijinks. A nice young man has claw marks. Another one has been toyed with at a couple of play parties. My aim with various hitty things has improved. But I haven’t really felt the passion there- and I’ve been dealing with personal relationship things that I wanted to not violate someone’s privacy over.

Nobody wants to be humiliated by having the world know them as Mr. Emotionally Flappy. But here’s the thing…

My partner was having trouble mustering enthusiastic consent, and still does. I don’t pressure people into shit they are not 100% on board with. I deserve better than that, even leaving aside the serious ethical impact, you don’t get to fuck Pearl just to please her so she won’t leave you. It takes its toll on the ego – loving someone intensely, but being dominant and thus discovering that vulnerability is the one thing they can’t bring into their sexuality. We are working on this because it is important to me. And it’s important to him- it sucks to want to get close to someone and feel you don’t measure up to what they want. Like the core you will be wanting.

It’s also psychologically relevant to me because I admit I have trust issues. When a significant amount of people have let you down in a fundamental way that damaged you (child abuse, etc…) it hardens you.

So add a medication that kicked the crap out of my libido and though I’ve made stabs at it, I suspect you can tell my heart wasn’t there the last little while.

But, on the other hand, I wanted to take the time to note I’ve gotten some lovely fan mail. When I started this blog it was about evangelically trying to get the word out, providing some sort of voice for people like me.

It’s gotten better. It really has. Since I started writing I built a thriving real life community, published a moderately successful book and got out of an abusive relationship (in not particular order). I loved again, lost and love now.

So I’m going to go back to writing here a bit more, but no promises that it won’t be embarrassingly navel gazey or contain more updates on personal growth and less hot sexxx.

Femdom Life: Fingering, Negotiations & Ruined Orgasms

Friday night, we have sex.

He reached for me, nestling the length of his body into the roundness of mine. Even when he’s no longer the skinny boy I started dating, and has filled out into muscle and robust health, he’s still made of stiff lines and delicate details, like an origami figure someone folded out of starched silk. Now there’s a solid weight to his arms and legs that I find pleasing. I liked it when he was so light that I was the heavy one, but I like this new sign of remission in his health problems.

Thursday night I was unbridled honest with him, even more so than I ever am with you, dear reader (of course you get a curated window into my life, but you know that). I asked for things put aside between our move and his many hobbies. You cannot mandate desire but you can make people aware of your own wants. So now, Friday night, he seeks for me.

He feels for my cunt, touching either side of the furred lips, not tor hard, not too soft. Fingering, remembering that my genitals and my pleasure are not some sort of buried secret that takes a cave diving expedition of plunging and rooting about inside. There’s a whole zone of sensitivity, inner thighs, vulva, buttocks, brushing, pressing just with the pads of his fingers. I feel arousal as the motion of tiny muscles and an awakening in nerves that I’m usually only subconsciously aware of.

Earlier we’d played all silly, miming tying me up so I could pretend my outrage, promising dire things even as I held my arms still to maintain the illusion of the invisible ropes. When he was done, his fingers flipped a switchblade made of nothingness and slit the bonds. Make believe demands support. Playfulness is a key thing I need in a partner.

I don’t let him control things, even if I can play at it. I don’t want to lie back and be pleasured, I want to rip off his armor and expose his vulnerabilities for me to play with. I lean up from my nest of blankets and roll over, pinning him down. I tell him precisely what I’m going to do to him, how I’m going to tease him as restrain him and toss him about like a rag doll.

He asked for that, to not rely entirely on my whims, but know what to expect when I take control. It is a challenge. Dominance for my is embracing the capacious moment of my fickle fancy, but I will not let that get in the way of enthusiastic consent. If he needs more scene pre-planning, than it can only expand the submission he can do with me.

Pinning him down I find his cock, already mostly stiff, and with a right palm slathered with sweet almond oil, lathe the root to the tip with curl fingered, dragging strokes, all the while shoving my hand over his mouth and sometimes pinching his nose. He knows he’s not going to come, knows exactly how far I’m going to go, and can rely on that certainty.

Tuesday night, similar to this, I threw him straight out of his comfort zone by staring intently at him. I’m past feeling self consciously silly about my so called dominant aura. It might be cliche, but when I wish I can pull up that cloak of control. And yet… indomitable Miss Pearl terrifies him, leaving him paralyzed and rattled. I’ve never had to deal with it before. I’ll never claim to be some master Mistress who can make a man into a puddle with a look, but in my near decade in a half of fucking around with kink, I’ve never dealt with someone trying so hard to run towards me while desperately trying to run away.

This time though, no hitches. Just saliva and oil making a slickness, alternating spidering my fingers up the ribs and the side of his stomach. I see him slip into a better place, until I’ve tugged and teased him straight into one of those ruined orgasms that are intense enough I worry I mucked up and made him cum.

When he gets his bearings back, he keeps trying to roll towards me and I keep inching away. Groin to chest is a splatter of semen that I hardly want squashed into my body in the middle of the night. I’m amused as he plays out the part of mobile wet spot, earnestly trying to please me by going back to touching me.

I do not want an orgasm. 

I have had way too many orgasms, because I was supposed to, because it was expected of me, because my partner’s ego demanded it or even for the entertainment value. I don’t want to relive those choices. I am not ready to come yet, not relaxed enough. The threads of arousal are there, but the weight of duty to reassure him with one snaps them, and I gently puts his hand on his chest where it isn’t gloopy with sex leftovers.

Neither of us come. It’s funny, I feel more in control without one, while he feels more out of control when he loses the option. Again, among his limits, no long term orgasm denial. It’s unusual, usually men are wild to be denied or get no pleasure from it, nothing of this in between wanting and not wanting.

So, always negotiations, always touching and dancing around the meta narrative of our sex games, where we are still two incredibly contained people. Some people fuse into one in a relationship- we’ve both learned to recoil from that. Instead everything is two little boats bobbing about in a big ocean, nudging our hulls, neither sure enough to abandon our craft and jump ship.

It’s not the story that sells, dear reader, not where I know that people are here for the ruined orgasms, not the psychological intimacy puzzles. But it’s the truth, so there you are.

16 Most Popular Posts of 2015

thenewyearslistHappy New Year!

Jumping on the bandwagon, whether most shared or most loved, here’s the top 2015 posts on omisspearl, listed in ascending order based on number of views. It looks like this year’s been heavy on informational content but light on BDSM stories- makes sense as everyone loves a sexy, tingling tale of lust and the stats are crammed full of well read favourites from years past. In light of that, How does “write more porn” sound as a blogging resolution?

That’s definitely going to be my goal for 2016, given that my fiction remains above and beyond the most well read and enjoyed content. And writing more porn means planning to have lots of inspiration. Mmm, I’m going to have fun!

Looking over my old writing, I can tell last year’s been heavily focused on building a life with Wildcard and coming to terms with people treating me like I know what I’m talking about. However, not mentioned in this list is the thing I’m most proud of this year, launching my first published erotic novel, and the first part of the Catamite trilogy, The Pet Gentleman, or honestly, a lot of personal vanilla growth. Sometimes this has severely impacted my ability to focus on my online life and work as a writer (I feel so bad that there’s so much promised content I’ve yet to deliver!), but I still have to admit that I’m in a way better place, today, than I was 365 days ago.  Curious to see what else gathered the most eyeballs last year? Take a look!

16 – A Little Bit of Simple, Easy Femdom Sex

15 – Wildcard’s Submission: A History

14 – Lifestyle VS Pro and The Male Sub Loot Grab

13 – #Service4Pearl: In Which I Post An Ad For A Service Sub

12 – On Femdom In Popular Culture

11 – Answering: “Am I A Femdom?”

10Spank, Ruin His Orgasm, Make Him Scream

9 – Femdom Problems: Being a Dominatrix VS Getting What You Want

8 – Friday Femdom Fiction: Meeting Her Slave

7 – Femdom Nouvelle and Beyond BDSM

6 – Femdom Spanking Practice

5 – Reader Letter:New Femdom Tips

4 – Not All Femdoms Are Sex Workers

3 – Friday Femdom Fiction: A Bitch at the Beach

2 – Femdom Stuff to Make Him Do While You Figure Things Out

1 – 19 Replies To Every Online Femdom Discussion Ever

Femdom Life: Moving House, Moving On

Wildcard and I just signed a lease on an apartment together. Up until this point, as our relationship got serious, I had simply moved in on top of him (heh), taking my scant possessions, merging them with his: a computer, some clothes, a few personal effects and objects of sentimental value. Escaping my ex and the uncomfortable weight of my family has meant a certain paring down of the self, stripping away the non-essentials, both for the practicality of flight and the psychological comfort of not owning things.

Moving together, this way, is a big step. It means, among many things, adjusting to a life that is ‘us’ not a life that is designed to be independent. It means, for him, leaving behind a lot of physical symbols of his past, old injuries, but the complicated kind. We live with different legacies, his, all about the things unknown by others, mine, a rawness obvious to everyone but no less unavoidable at the time. So boxes of things get piled up, including one pile now much bigger than me, of things to give way to charity, and bags and bags of trash shuttled out. I like packing, and I like ruthlessly paring down our material possessions, to leave only the ones that are wanted. He watches me work away, wrapping plates, taking charge, leading. He calls me “a dynamo”, and tolerates me rousting him from relaxing after a long day, to decide on if something is to be kept or stored because dealing with it right now is important to ME. He likes me bossing about.

Meanwhile he’s pretty much been on point in the bedroom. The last play party, where I strutted and preened, lead to a very load, public screaming orgasm with him pinned beneath me.

Of course these things never happen in a simple situation. A move has to be paired with a promotion into a cluster fuck at my work place (more money, but more problems); and a little end of year contretemps when a local creeper finally exploded into public dramatics, leaving (thus far) nobody harmed, but myself having to actually shut up and not meddle, for once. The social storm is actually Wildcard’s to steer and I’m not so happily clawing the draperies in a support role. But that’s a tempest in a teapot (which, by the way, did you know we own no less than SEVEN teapots, although we drink bagged brewed in a mug most days? Extravagance!)

The new apartment has a big kitchen set up well with everything we need, light and air, a nice façade on the building- and a double living room with Grecian columns and a skylight. It begs to host parties where submissive guests wear diaphanous togas. We already plan the installation of discreet restraints, how not to damage the rental fixtures in making our home into a house of debauchery. Meanwhile my mind is less on kink, and more on making curtains and the tremendous project of turning filled cardboard boxes into a comfortable home, while trying to cram in Christmas on top. It’s chaos, but chaos I’m enjoying.

#Service4Pearl: In Which I Post An Ad For A Service Sub

So I’ve decided to explore service as a kink.

house
Specifically, I’ve been thinking about a fussy kind of valet/maid scenario, more Downton Abbey than anything more explicitly fetish. Wildcard is not a service submissive, being more of a bedroom sub, or as I often put it, strictly decorative. So, after discussing the matter with him and giving it more thought than is probably even reasonable, I composed and ad and posted it up on fetlife.

I’m looking more for a shorter term arrangement, and not a secondary relationship- basically a friend who wants to experiment and not a full time sub. I have a very clear picture in my mind of what I want, and a long list of things I don’t like.

There’s a lot to unpack in this for me. In the first place, as much as I don’t mind and even enjoy Wildcard’s extracurricular activities, the idea of sharing him with him having a full time sub makes me feel slightly distressed, so similarly I don’t think it’s a good place to try to run a concurrent relationship even if he’d tolerate imbalance. On that, I worry that I’ll be offering possible people a bad deal because I can only offer a limited amount of myself.

But it might be enough, so why not try it anyway?

Before setting out on this I tried to do a lot of research particularly with Tilari, of “How Not To Suck A Service Submission“, an expert on the subject matter, and she was kind enough to tell me a bit about what makes up a good ad, and a good request. She suggested that a good thing to aim for would be to be very clear about my guidelines and what I was looking for. That means down to laying out the kind of tasks I was interested in and my expectations instead of just referencing a “service sub”.

I think this is pretty reasonable- and it also meant a good excuse to talk about what I expected to give back in explicit terms, as well as to address the sort of trade for the “exchange” part of the power exchange. For me, I find the idea of acting like a dominatrix sterotype gross, but I see the sub’s fulfillment as essential to a healthy relationship.

I’m not looking for a naked house cleaner, but neither did I want to assume that me being a dom should be enough.

You’ll see the ad I created, after the jump…

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