Day 11: What are your views on the ethics of kink?
Initially, I was going to postpone writing on this topic as it seemed a little too heavy in my sleep deprived state. But that’s changed, so here goes.
The ethics of kink don’t seem overly complicated. As far as I’m concerned, it boils down to this: respect, honesty and communication. Respect your partner(s) and yourself, be honest and don’t stop talking to each other. If you feel unable to respect the person you’re involved with at the time as an individual, completely separate from your designations as Grand High Poobah and lowly serf, what business do you have engaging in physically and emotionally risky activities with them? The same goes for honesty and communication. Can’t tell them the truth? Or think you can’t safely express when something’s too much to handle or not enough? Don’t play/scene/fuck/whatever with them.
TLDR; awkwardly worded prompt. Ethics= Treat your kinky partner and yourself with respect, don’t lie and talk to each other.
Day 8: post a kinky image you find erotic
There are a few things I think are appealing about this image: the strip of tape directly across her nipples and just under her knees along with how she’s posed. The way her neck is bared seemed like an open invitation to pounce on a willing victim.
This particular image makes my mind wander somewhere that feels new to me. I wonder if it’d feel as uncomfortable as I’d hope to have the tape ripped off my nipples with no warning at all. Or being hooded and having my tape covered legs bound to my waist so the only (relevant) visible parts of me were my ass and cunt. That could lead to my being used as a decoration, furniture or available for any other use he came up with.
Day 6: Describe your weirdest fantasy
I’ve spent a couple of days thinking about this and I’ll admit I was stumped. Mainly because I don’t think any of the fantasies I have are weird.What do I think of most often lately? I would love to be bent over, blindfolded and gagged with a pair of my panties coated in his cum. Then eaten out and tied down with a vibrator left in my pussy. The only things I’d add are a flogging with a leather cat o’nine tails and mild breathplay.
It might be better to say that my fantasies skew toward the extreme than the strange.
Fortune tends to be a fickle thing. Sometimes everything is wonderful: life goes my way, no foul individuals to deal with or financial bothers of any kind. My joints don’t hurt at all and I might floss twice a day. Other times? Everything goes to hell for an indefinite period.
From a financial standpoint, this prompt irritates me. It makes me think of all the people I’ve been on dates with, who split the check at the end of the night and the rare overdue bill in my childhood. Student loans deferred. On that note, I loathe splitting the check on dates. With the fire of a thousand suns. If you can’t take me to Per Se or Uchi, don’t. Let’s go to a taco truck or frozen yogurt and an outdoor concert or something. Just don’t go somewhere you couldn’t afford to take yourself, really. Why does it bother me? Because it’s rude and insulting.
Student loans? They’re hellspawn. Period. I made the mistake of living the “student loan rich” life when I had absolutely no reason to a few years back and I;m paying for it now in mountains of irritation. Moral of the story? If you don’t have a valid reason to, like needing to cover living expenses, Do. Not. Do. It. Loans are a nothing but an itchy wool blanket that smells like too many kneazles and old cabbage.
On a personal note: I feel like my fortunes have taken a positive turn over the last six months. I’ve managed to mend a number of fences I’d thought to be burnt out of existence and I’m a lot closer to finding my happy medium.
If only I could find my keys and glasses…
Nerves. We all get them. Some more often than others. Me? Feeling nervous is a round the clock thing for me. First dates? Nervous. First kiss? Surprised (but also anxious). First time doing vaguely adult things with a partner? 100-pound sack of skittish nerves. The second go round wasn’t much better since only about half of what happened was consensual on my end. (That humanoid currently owns and operates a fairly successful company.) Where’s karma when you really need it?
Other things that make me nervous? Initiating contact with people I haven’t spoken to in months or hell,what feels like years. Here’s what happens: I think about initiating contact. Then I go over the possible ramifications of either going though with that course of action or doing nothing at all. I’ll wait a little while longer before going through the same process again, which only serves to plant further seeds of anxiety in an already overfull hypothalamus.
Then the panic sets in. If I don’t catch it early enough that panic blooms into a full on panic/hysteria attack. Once I’ve finally decided on whether I’ll follow through I’ve worked myself up so much that it takes a while to calm down. On extremely rare occasions I might even need a short nap after. (There was only a touch of sarcasm in that last statement.) And that ladies and gentlemen, leads to a very unpleasant me. Partly because I loathe naps. (Unless it’s of the post-coital variety, then I’m happy to indulge.)
After all that, I still spend a lengthy period of time over-analyzing every possible aspect of the initial contact and wondering what I could have done differently.
On an entirely unrelated note: I need to shop for new lingerie soon and go see my doctor about adjusting or switching my current prescription.
The last three months have been a whirlwind of activity. Some positive and others not so bright. I started working for the first time in a very long time. Nights sadly, so I don’t get out often. That’s been something of a mixed bag. Most of my coworkers are great and my bosses seem to like me so that’s been nice. Having customers call in and complain over things I can’t control? Not so much.
Unpleasantness at work and even more loss on a personal level has left me itching for an escape to somewhere far, far away from here. Somewhere with vaguely itchy hay rides, cider and horrid Fair Isle sweaters would be perfect.
There’s a jazz festival I’ve wanted to go to for a couple of years now so I’ve been saving for that along with a trip I’d planned to take to the east coast a year and a half ago but never got to. I’m looking forward to both. One will take be over Thanksgiving and the other possibly a few weeks before if I can get the time off for both. Otherwise I’ll have a tough decision to make. But one of these trips will happen.I won’t have a repeat of 2015.
If I don’t update this by Monday afternoon, send me an email or message on my profile over on Fet. I may have just gotten caught up in work and studying.
It’s been, five or six months since I last wrote? Well, few things have happened since then. Not all of them good.
The one good thing is that the IUD I’ve been using to manage my crippling periods works flawlessly now. Aside from a bit of barely visible acne around my chin and the occasional random cramps. I hit the 6 month post-insertion mark on the 17th. While the initial adjustment stage was rocky, I’ve just about reached a happy medium now. I can actually function all month instead of 2.5-3 weeks. So that’s one source of physical pain that’s been taken care of.
But the main thing that’s kept me away? A friend of mine passed away a couple of months ago. She’d made it years longer than the doctors said she would. In fact, they only gave her three months at the most.
You know what surprised me? How happy she was. Even through the last four months, she’d ask after everyone’s family members. She’d scold people for crying when they visited. Why would she berate them? Because she felt that what little time she had left should be celebrated for the gift it was rather than mourned.What got to me was her regret. The one thing she regretted? Not volunteering and doing more charity work before the end. And she meant it.Between her post-grad program, work, chemo and family she felt bad about not being able to go out and do selfless things for others.
Damn it. I miss her.