Tricks & Treats

Confession time: sometimes, I can’t remember everything that happens. I mean, I remember things in broad outline, but the details…get a little fuzzy.

Take Halloween, for example. It was an AMAZING day and night and day…but…I really can’t remember the details.  You know, the order of things.  Where they all fit. There’s all these snapshots I have in my head, snippets of memory, but they are like random photographs all tossed in a shoebox, and I only have a vague recollection of how they all fit together.

Sometimes, in the middle of things, I want to say “Stop!  Wait, I have to write this down.” Especially when someone says something so perfect…  There were several of those moments, laying in bed the next morning between my two guys. I do remember that. That they said the funniest shit. That I said, “Oh my god, I SO have to remember that to use in my blog.” How fucking hilarious is that, to be trying to remember shit so I can record it here.  From now on I need a notebook at my side at all times.  And guys? If you’re reading this, be prepared to stop at any moment so that I can write stuff down.

Of course we could just install video cameras all over W’s house like he suggested.

NOT.

Seriously though. It started Saturday morning when Ad and I stopped by W’s to get my running shoes.  Actually, we stopped by to get my iPod and running shoes, but I forgot the shoes.  (Already the forgetting had begun.) That was bright and early in the AM. Ad and I went to work out at the Y, then he was supposed to drop me at W’s for the weekend.  I invited Ad in for coffee, and then we all went out to breakfast, and at some point I realized that what I really wanted was to have both my guys together that weekend.  I wanted them both to beat me and fuck me.  I’ve been jonesing to be done by the two of them for a while now, but it’s never quite worked out since the first–and only–time we’d done it.

Until Halloween night.

The guys were both very enthusiastic about the prospect.  Ad left W and I alone for awhile. He’s so very, very thoughtful that way, wanting to give us time alone to catch up.  He returned later that evening, sometime after W caned me and made me drink his pee and before my new pretty glass plug was inserted. I know this not because my memory is clear–sometime after those two events my memory starts to get hazy–but because Ad brought the buttplugs with him. Oh, and because there’s pictures of him inserting it, and in the pics I have stripy cane marks, so I know that was after the caning!

W says we’d forget everything if we didn’t have pictures.  Maybe he is right.

Somehow, after Ad pushed the smaller buttplug into me, we all ended up going upstairs. Once there, Ad first tried to have me just hold onto the back of a chair while they caned me.

Jade being still: FAIL.

Picture this: me holding onto the back of the chair you see in this picture. (No the pic isn’t from that night, this is just for, you know, atmosphere.)

So there I am, trying to be properly obedient, holding on to the back of the chair, when I see the two of them advancing on me–each with a cane in his meaty little fist. I do what any self-respecting well-trained submissive would do: I start begging for time.

“No wait, okay wait,” I say, backing away.

“Put your hands back on the chair,” says one or the other of them.

I do, but then I twist and turn and whine and beg some more: “Seriously, wait, wait just a minute, okay? Just give me a minute, okay?”  As though a minute will change anything.

W stops and shakes his head, and I know what he is about even before he turns all the way around.  In a minute he returns with rope. Pretty soon my hands are properly tied, and I’m not going anywhere.  Well, almost not.  I did pull the chair across the room at a couple points, as I tried to avoid the Boys With The Canes. They have very different styles, do my guys, but (ahem) they seem to play well together.  It was fun…painful fun, but fun, and listening to them count off, “1…2…3!” and then whack me at the same time, or feeling them alternate their strikes like some kind of perverted drumbeat, was a hoot.  W hits a LOT harder than Ad, but Ad likes to do this quick whackwhackwhack thing all over the place that pretty much makes up for the strength of the strikes. I was panting and sweating by the end of it.

I think they were pleased as punch with themselves.  Boys will be boys, right?

Huh. “The end of it.”  Again, I don’t recall how we got from one thing to another. I think that W may have decided it was time to move me up to the larger size buttplug. If ya’ll recall, I had a big fat FAIL on my calibration for the 2 inch buttplug. I now realize that it wasn’t ME that was a failure, it was the plug. I am in love with my glass plugs. Maybe a little less in love with the 2 inch one than the smaller one, but still, love is love.

However–and this is a big however–that doesn’t mean my ass welcomes it with open, um, open…  Well, suffice it to say it ain’t easy to get it in there, no matter how good it feels once it is.

This is where the difference in their two styles comes into play.

Ad probably would have laid me down and teased me and rubbed my clit or maybe let me touch myself as he gently pushed it in…or maybe gently pushed until I started resisting and then let me off the hook. W was having none of that.  Just as with the chair, resistance was not an option.  Out came the stocks.  I know I’ve written about the stocks, and probably posted a pic of them, but in case I haven’t, this is what they look like (and me in them.) Again, this isn’t from Halloween night, but just to give you a feel for what those evil men do to me.

Or at least what W does to me. It was his notion that I needed to be thoroughly and properly restrained in order for the buttplug insertion to be done correctly. Or perhaps he just didn’t want any more of my squirming.  In any case, I was soon face down, ass up, legs spread, ready to have a two inch buttplug shoved up my ass.

I tried to be good.  Honest I did.  I tried to relax. I tried to breathe through it. I tried to open myself to it. But soon enough I was panting and begging, saying, “no no no” over and over again, and “I can’t I can’t, really, I can’t,” while Ad slowly pushed and twisted it into me.

All this time, W was taking pictures, very removed, very much the observer.  Ad was almost coaxing me, like trying to convince me.  And I wanted to do it for him, but I couldn’t help it, I was fighting it.  And then W was suddenly there beside me, one hand on the back of my neck and the other on the buttplug. “Do it,” he said in my ear. “Push back onto it.  I know you can do it.  Do it.  Do it now.”  And that’s all it took.  That’s when I knew it really wasn’t my choice any longer. That’s when I knew that whatever he wanted, I would do.  When he told me to do it myself, to push myself back onto it, when he told me to do it because he wanted me to–all resistance drained away as neatly as water sluicing down a pipe.  I sighed, a deep, satisfied sigh, and I pushed back onto it, crying out as the widest part of it seemed to split me in two, and then sighing as my body closed around it and all I felt was that unique, lovely fullness. And when he praised me, when he told me, “Good girl,” in my ear, it was worth all the discomfort.

Then Ad was there, and he was fingering me, shoving his fingers into me and I was moaning and panting and coming, while W took more pictures.

I don’t recall now why I did it, maybe I was trying to escape, but at some point I flipped completely over onto my back, still in the stocks.  W took that as an indication that I wanted the cunt clamp inserted.  I mean, obviously I did, I had my legs spread wide open for him, it was of course an invitation, right?

Oh wait, you don’t know what the cunt clamp is? Hmm, well, maybe that will have to wait for my next post…

HNT & Writing

I almost forgot!  I have a new HNT up over on A Poly Life.  One of the many reasons I love to run…and wear 5 inch heels…

Oh!  And another piece of writing on Eden Cafe: So You Want to Go to a Kink Convention, a primer for newcomers to all the kinky fun that can be had at a big kink event.

I’ve been having so much fun writing for them, and now I’ve saved up enough writing dinero to get a new toy!  I’ve been having lovely fun with my glass buttplugs, but I am thinking of trying some stainless steel. Not the least reason of which is that, as ya’ll know, W likes an Industrial Girl, and what could be more industrial than having stainless steel shoved up your ass?  Pfun or Pure Plug, which should I choose?

Too bad they don’t carry anal hooks.

Late to Work

I was late to work this morning because I had to go reinsert the buttplug that Ad put in me this morning. After a rocking orgasm with it in and a trip up the stairs, it wasn’t seated quite so firmly in the place it was supposed to be. (“Seated”, heh, I’m such a riot.)  Ad had a shit-eating grin watching me traipse into the bathroom & back out, properly re-plugged.

This is why I love the synchronicity of my life. Yesterday W and I chatted about the joy he and Ad had using the glass plugs on me this past weekend.  I commented that  I’d be happy to wear it to work any time he wanted.  He suggested that today would be a good day. The plugs live at Ad’s & my house, so when I told Ad that I was going to have to wear it to work, he grinned and said, “Oh I think we can arrange that…” And arrange it he did. Complete with pictures to send to W.

Yummm.

The Mason Jar

I have an issue with peeing. I hate to do it (and most times can’t) in front of people. The times that W has urinated on me, marking me, are both incredibly humiliating and incredibly hot, both because it is humiliating, and because it makes me feel so fucking owned.  It’s hard to describe it any other way.

And the times that I have drunk his pee…

Yes. I’ve done that. I did it the other night. For the record, it tastes…musky. But it isn’t the taste of it that bothers me (well not that alone.) It’s the act of it, it’s the complicity involved in it. Because I have to choose to obey. I have to open my mouth, to take his cock into my mouth, I have to willingly let him pee into my mouth and swallow it. If I am tied or beaten and he pees on me, I have no choice. When he says, “Drink my piss,” well, I have to make the choice to do it. To choose to obey, to give him what he wants. To kneel down in front of him and take his cock out of his pants and place it, warm and soft, into my mouth. To wait until I feel it filling with his warm piss, unable to look at him but knowing he is watching me, watching the revulsion warring with my desire to please him, watching as I fight myself to do as he wants.

Today I uploaded a picture of me in my cage to Twitter (scroll down, it’s at the bottom.) And I was asked if my jailer let me out to use the facilities. “Don’t even get me started on that,” I said, remembering another time that I wasn’t let out to use the facilities.

He had locked me in the cage during a weekend long visit, which was a kind of respite for both of us from the intensity of the interactions we’d had up til then. It was playful and fun, and we both enjoyed talking, writing, laughing, and, occasionally, playing.

What he didn’t warn me about was that he wasn’t going to let me out to pee.

He brought me coffee and soda throughout the morning. And eventually, I had to do what comes naturally. “Will you unlock me?” I asked. “I have to go pee.” He just smiled, got up and went into the other room.  “Here you go,” he said, and handed me a mason jar. I looked at it blankly. “Excuse me?”

“That’s your bathroom.”

For quite a while I didn’t believe him, that he actually wanted me to piss in that jar. In front of him. I argued, I pleaded, I was frankly disbelieving.  Eventually, I realized he was serious. And my need to go to the bathroom gradually got more and more serious. Finally, I gave in.

I positioned myself over the mason jar, my face red with embarrassment. I implored him not to take any photos (I don’t recall if he did or not, now.) It was horrendously embarrassing to have to maneuver myself into that position, ungainly, awkward and graceless. Add that I was going to have to pee that way as well, and it was a long, miserable process.

But I had to try.  I really had to go. So, I gave in, I was in position…and I tried to pee in that fucking jar.

I tried and tried and tried.

I couldn’t do it.

Sitting there, crouched over that jar, trying to urinate and failing, over and over…god it was awful. So much so that when I actually, finally, managed to do it, it was almost a triumph. I succeeded! It was definitely a relief.

This past weekend, when they put me in the cage to write, I was very very careful about my fluid intake.

I do learn.

Hook Pull HNT

I’ve had a couple posts on my experience at Kinky Kollege, the Energy Hook Pull, and have an HNT of the aftermath of the hook pull up over on A Poly Life.  Go on over and check it out!

And to check out the other lovelies joining the HNT parade, visit Osbasso!

New Articles on Eden Cafe

While I was away playing, dressing up, getting fucked, having Tiger Woods and an anal hook shoved into my ass and cunt, apparently two articles of mine came out on Eden Cafe.  One is a discussion of the acronym RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink), the other is my own musings and sometimes conflicted feelings about being out as a poly person in a mono world: Living Poly in a Mono World.

Rope Groupie

Okay I’ll admit it (and I know this comes as a huge surprise): I’m a rope groupie.  It’s what first attracted me to W. Literally, a picture of him putting rope on a woman in his main profile photo on Fetlife.  Then I went to his profile and I saw several more pictures of him, and women, and rope. But by then it wasn’t so much the rope itself, it was an intentness in his look when he his doing something, like tying rope, that attracted me.

I’ve seen that intensity in other Tops when they are playing—mainly rope Tops. I don’t know why tying a woman brings out that focus in a Top, but it does.  And I love it. I see that, I feel that focus on me, I feel that combination of objectification (I am just a manikin, a doll to be adorned with rope), appreciation for both my beauty in rope and the beauty of the rope on me, assessment (what can I do with this body, how can I present it, hold it, adorn it, torment it, bend it, mold it), and that edge of sadism, of considered intent to cause a reaction or physical discomfort, and I revel in it.  And I am an instant groupie.

I met two men this weekend that inspired that in me, and in typical serendipitous fashion, I got to be a demo bottom for one of them until his actual demo bottom showed up for the class. (The other is a post all unto himself.)

Lochai is a fairly well-known figure in the kink world.  He is, according to his Twitter profile, a “rigger, photographer, porn director, professional pervert.” He produces bondage video for kink.com (hogtied.com & everythingbutt.com) and gives presentations all over on all aspects of rope bondage. He’s also a hell of a nice guy and definitely gets the mentality that “we do this because it feels good, makes us hot, gets us off sexually and mentally.”  I really do get that for many people it is a lifestyle and that sex is not their reason for doing it, but the people that I tend to gravitate toward, and the people whose philosophy about WIITWD that resonates most with me, are usually the kink-for-sex folk. I mean, that’s why I do it.  And Lochai seems to be either of that ilk or to get people that are.

The class during which I got the pleasure of getting rope put on me by Lochai was not one that he was originally supposed to teach. James Mogul, also of kink.com, was supposed to be teaching a class called “One Rope,” but his plane was first delayed, then canceled, and he never made it in. Lochai was attending the class, but when Mogul didn’t show up, he took over the class at the last moment. It wasn’t the class that Mogul had planned to teach, because, as he said, he had planned to attend the class himself to learn all the one-rope ties and tricks, but he did a fair job of showing how to do some effective ties. And I got to be the body he tied off on, because I raised my hand when he asked if anyone in the room was fairly flexible. I would have said I was a CIA operative if it would have gotten Lochai’s rope (and hands) on me.

Turns out I was quite flexible enough for what he wanted to show, and of course I was all in that floaty rope bottom place from the first moments he put his hands on me. Even if it was just a demo. I am such a rope groupie.

It was a prime way to start off what ended up being an incredible weekend (and more about which I will share soon!)

Tiger Woods in My Pussy

I know, I know, I said I wasn’t going to post this weekend. But ya’ll should know by now what an attention slut I am–I can’t stay away from here for long, especially if I have a story to tell!

So we got in last night at 12AM.  Too late to go to the bar and meet anyone. But that was okay, I was just glad to be here a day early so we could have the whole of today w/o travel.

Yesterday, as I was getting ready to leave work, my boss again asked what we’re going to be doing while we’re here, and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch tomorrow. I felt really bad saying no, but told her I didn’t know what Ad had planned.  Which is true–I have no idea what he’s planning as far as dungeon play goes.  Anyway, I told Ad we need to think of some “normal” things we “did” while we were here. He promised to concoct some bullshit story.  But if I was being truthful about this morning it would have gone like this:

Well, I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn, just like I always do when I’m on vacation. I started to work on a post for A Poly Life, but didn’t get far before Ad pulled me over to him for some morning sex. An orgasm each later, I finished my post and headed out to the gym so A could get some more sleep (his vacation schedule is much more the usual variety: sex and sleeping in.) Ran 2.5 miles on the treadmill, then returned to the room to find Ad just waking up.

Earlier I’d had to go out to the car to get my running shoes, and had returned with the plastic tube that holds the canes I bought him, carrying them happily through the crowded lobby back to our room.  As I watched, he pulled one out from the case, and then indicated I should lay over the top of a bolster pillow, ass up.

Oh yummy, a caning in the morning!  What followed was this:

Caning caning caning with the schoolhouse whippy cane and my arms strapped to my sides with his belt

Insertion of balls that are usually used for vaginal play, but that have a handle, so were deemed safe enough to put in my ass–and oh how I loved them

More caning

A hard, long, delicious fucking of the cunt whilst pulling the balls in and out of my ass

Several orgasms

Removal of balls and insertion of his long lovely cock into my ass

Hard ass fucking accompanied by more orgasms

More caning

Insertion of golf balls into my pussy (my Tiger Woods ball first, cuz you know he’s my man)

Removal of the belt

Slapping of ass with said belt

Observation that I am a happy Jade

Kisses and shower

Then we headed out to Starbuckies and Ann Sathers for cinnamon rolls!

I believe the only part my boss may hear about is the cinnamon rolls and coffee.

Oh, and Ad took some pictures. Because I know I said I wouldn’t be posting, but I am such a goddamned exhibitionist I just have to share stuff as it happens. So here you go: a happy Jade’s cane-striped ass!

Life is good when you wake up to a fucking, a caning, and Tiger Woods in your pussy.

Mud Virgin

As a special treat, since I will likely be too busy to write much here in the next few days, I thought I’d leave you with a couple images and some notes from a weekend I blogged about a little bit here and here. This was the other part of the weekend, the part that didn’t involve me fucking anyone or playing with anyone or letting myself be used by anyone. But it was, in its own way, just as emotionally charged as those other events.

The original reason we went up to WI for the weekend was so that W could be the 2nd cameraman for his friend, who shoots mud, or quicksand, videos. If you have no idea what a mud video is, follow this link and check it out. Not my kink, perse, but it turned out to be a whole lot more fun than I anticipated, and I actually got in the mud, and played a bit part in another video that he was shooting that weekend.  Imagine, me, a movie star!

Well ok, maybe not a star, but I didn’t totally fuck the whole shoot up, at least.

I didn’t plan to play in the mud. In fact I rather emphatically stated that a) I didn’t want to play in the mud, and b) I didn’t want to be on video. Apparently those “hard limits” were sort of squishier than originally supposed. By the time Saturday afternoon came around, I was all about getting in the mud! I realized, hey, I might never be in a situation again where I can pretend to be drowning in quicksand, I better do it now while I have the chance.

But that’s not to say I wasn’t nervous as hell. First of all, I had in my head that it would be me and W and R, his friend that does the mud shoots, there at the pit. No one else watching me.  I also had it in my head that there would be NO cameras filming it. Or at least video cameras–I know W far too well to think he wouldn’t be taking some pictures.  But although W never told me whether I should or shouldn’t do it, tho he made no demands on me about this particular thing, he knew me well enough to trip some of my triggers once the decision was made.  He made me go out and announce to the whole crew that I was going, and I would like them to please join us and watch, and he filmed it all.

I did get one of my requests though–if I was going to do it, I wanted to be tied.

W put the prettiest rope dress on me ever. Really ever, because I think it was the only one he’d ever put on me up to that point. See, we’ve done lots of horrendous, amazing, brutal, heart-wrenching, scary-ass scenes, and not once have I had a bad physical reaction.  Until he decided to do a “pretty” scene with me. That’s the scene where I almost passed out and threw up. So–no more pretty scenes for Jade! But he managed to do a very pretty rope dress on me this time without making me throw-up OR pass out.

And then, we went out to the mud pits.

It’s kind of funny to think about now.  Apparently my method of going in for a first-timer is not the “usual.” First, being tied up for my first sink.  Then, once I was there, I simply walked to the edge, took a few deep, tremulous breaths, and jumped in.

The mud was cold, and very very heavy. There was a good deal of fear on my part: I didn’t know what to expect, and I don’t like to be pinned down (odd for a bondage bunny to say, but rope & leather don’t feel like being pinned.) But I wiggled my way down and down into the mud, and eventually, it kind of felt good.  Sensuous and slick. I almost forgot about the camera, until I looked to W for affirmation that I was doing okay, and instead saw the video camera.  No help there.

At the last, I decided to go under completely. R had given me a bit of instruction just before I went in, in case something went wrong, but not a whole lot.  Like I said, I sort of just walked to the edge, steeled myself, and jumped. But when I decided to go under, W called out that maybe giving me some instructions on how to do it would be good. And what to do if I got in trouble.  Because it’s not like going under water.  And I was tied, something that most girls aren’t their first time, either. So R coached me on exactly how to do it, and how to come up from it, and what to do when you came up.

It took me two tries, but I did it, eventually. That part was terrifying, to be truthful.  I hate water spraying in my face, and this was ten times worse. I really did feel like I might suffocate, even tho I was only under completely very very briefly (a couple seconds.)

Afterward, R got in the mud with me and helped me out (with a bit of sliding his hands around on my slippery skin, yumm.)  I was shaking so bad from cold (it was a miserably cold day) that I could barely stand up, but R held onto me while I was hosed off, and eventually showered off in the hottest water I could stand.

Mud virgin no more.

Here are a couple pictures of it.

Before:

And during:

HNT – Playing Games

I did my HNT over on A Poly Life this time–check it out there: http://apolylife.wordpress.com/2009/10/22/hnt-playing-games/