It has been awhile since my last post, in part because I am selling my computer to someone whom I know from my job, and I had to erase the hard drive with this program that over-writes it with scribbles seven times in order to make the thing safe to sell. In my first attempt to neutralize the personal sexual information on my computer, which includes photos of me, filthy stories I wrote, and my partners huge collection of anal porn, I thought it would suffice to simply put a new OS on the hard drive. I did that, but then when de-fragging I saw filenames come up like "anal whore 1-156" and other such things. That just wasn't going to work. So I put it in that government-CIA over-scribble program. I decided it needed only 7 over-writes, instead of the 30 that were possible. After nuking it and before selling it I was afraid to even visit my blog site on that computer, let alone write more secrets down. Who knows what electronic nook that would be stored in?

I got a laptop to replace it, because that will run better on solar power at the remote cabin I'm moving to in a few months. I will still be able to get on the net via the phone line. The remote cabin of which I speak is the one with the upstairs loft which lends itself to imprisoning (consensual) sex slaves in my fantasies.

Since my last update I've continued to enjoy vanilla sex at an unusual level. This resulted in a pregnancy scare caused by finding a broken condom stuck inside my pussy when masturbating one night, and not knowing which man it came from or which night it happened on. (It could have been my submissive or my partner.) I took morning after pills immediately, I had some on hand from the one other time I took them. When I went to planned parenthood last time, they graciously offered me an extra package of Plan B just in case of future incidents. Planned parenthood deserves lots of appreciation and generous donations. Although they my not want to be appreciate by a blog such as mine, I would like to say that I LOVE PLANNED PARENTHOOD. And I would also like to say I love emergency contraception, and that Plan B, which can be used technically up to 72 hours after unprotected sex, but which I have heard from several nurses now can actually be used for 5 days afterwards, is relatively low on side affects and highly effective. Never the less, I lived in fear the next two weeks and consulted a favorite herbal book for additional remedies. I had all the thoughts women have when this happens. Every time I had a drink I had to convince myself all over again that I would indeed be having an abortion if I were pregnant, and every time I felt any symptom of pms, like tender breasts or emotions, I wondered if it were pregnancy or just pre-menstrual hormones.

I'm not pregnant. I was probably worrying more than necessary, but I was very afraid of having to have an abortion. Such a thing would not be easy on my sensitive nerves and loving heart. I will be 28 years old next week. My reproductive years are limited, but I still do not want a baby now. It is an open question if I will ever. Perhaps if you read long enough and I write long enough you will find out. But that is probably not high on our list of reasons to continue.

I made love to my partner several times in the last 2 weeks with much pleasure and emotion. I don't know how I'm dong that lately, when it has been so hard to achieve in the past. Its nice to be with him after being with someone else, to feel his familiar body and see his face, which I know so well, like a brother. I love the large freckles on his pale, narrow shoulders, I love his slight frame and elegant, fluttering eyelids, and I love the grey hairs appearing in his sideburns and the character developing in the gentle wrinkles around his eyes. I can see hints of the old man he will become, as I can see the old woman waiting in me, foreshadowed, when I look in the mirror. Wrapped around him, I think one of the universal love thoughts: I want to be the one to take care of this man when he is old.

Pinning my submissive to the bed, holding his arms down with my hands and spreading his thighs with my knees, I think another of the universal love thoughts: you are my belonging, my thing. Be nothing but my own beautiful thing. Adore me. Let everything in your life pale in comparison to me. Let me obliterate everything before and after me, this single instant it's own lifetime.

Two days later he shyly asked me not to hit him so much. He was anxious about displeasing me and being a less-desirable submissive. He said it so sincerely, and I thought it was sweet. Of course, I said. I would not push him. It is consensual role play. We are equals. But that night, when the white of my teeth flashed in his dim room when I slapped his face hard, over and over, he did not complain. "You're gorgeous" he had said, as if basking in me. And he was so beautiful, his jawbone fine as his head turned from side to side, his smile sensual and lost, his eyes closed in self-protection and in a submissive rapture. I held his hair grasped in my fist, I held his arms down with the full weight of my bare knees, and slapped his face, one side then the other, holding him still in my hand.
- posted by Zoe @ 12:06 AM

 
New levels possible

Reality has been a bit slow these last few weeks, in terms of sexuality, but fantasy has been going just fine. I managed to have sex twice with my partner, D., early in our trip to the cabin, and I managed to enjoy it. That was a few weeks ago now. I always am lost in a bdsm fantasy during vanilla sex with him, usually concerning my favorite Asian secretary. He doesn't mind my lack of "presence" during the act, but he does mind the lack of frequency, as regular readers know. Anyway, since then I haven't had any sexual contact with anyone besides myself, which is my favorite form of physical stimulation anyway.

For anyone who may be confused about how many people I am relating to sexually at this point, here's the run down: two, in "real life", and a few more in email that may or may not turn into real life encounters.

I write with a slave boy whom I met on alt.com (which has produced some quality people for me, but only after a lot of weeding through people who lets just say aren't my type) He desires a non-consent level of submission, including extreme levels of 24/7 slavery. In the past, this is something I fantasize about, usually in the boss/secretary fantasies and in other male-owning-female scenarios, but have not seriously thought about living out. As an anti-authoritarian person by nature, its hard for me to accept that this could be a "right" way of living. It's much easier for me to justify inequalities in roleplay, with the relationship being fundamentally equal. My sexual fantasies are never "roleplay" though, they always involve some level of strong coercion or non-consent. Much of the turn on (in my fantasies) comes from pushing the submissive beyond their limits and watching them panic, but ultimately need it sexually, despite themselves.

When I am hurting my submissive M. by slapping his cock, digging my fingernails into his balls and pulling on them, putting clothes pins all over his most sensitive parts, slapping him across the face, spanking him with my belt, or making him take a huge dildo, I get most excited when he starts to panic and is right up against his limits. I can see him starting to wonder if he can take it anymore, and looks up at me, if he's not blindfolded, with hurt and fear in his eyes. "Come on, be a man" I tell him. "Don't be such a faggot."

The slave boy I write to, we'll call him slaveboi for now, brings out my most extreme fantasies and desires. I daydream about what it would really be like to have him live with me and to control him deeply and constantly. Here are some of my desires for him:

-his cock would be locked in a chastity device that kept a dildo locked in his ass at all times.
-he would sleep between my legs at night submerged under the heavy covers with a gag-with-breathing-tube in his mouth, allowing him oxygen from outside the blankets. I would smother him all night with my pussy and thighs. He would be in heavy bondage and would be helpless to move.
-slaveboi would never be allowed to touch his cock or ass, those would be my possessions. Daily enemas would be part of his routine since he would not be allowed normal use of the toilet.
-his asshole would be trained into the hottest and most fuckable "pussy" a man could desire... He would be kept clean, lubricated, and loose enough to fuck while being tight enough to please. I would train him to be the feminine sex object of my fantasies, though he would start out male instead of female.
-he would be forced to wear female clothes as much of the time as possible and would be given hormones to develop breasts.
-near-constant bondage and a restrictive diet, and corsett-training would help his figure become softer, smaller, and more feminine, until he was physically much smaller and more delicate than myself (he is currently the same height, 10lbs heavier, and has defined muscles.)
-he would be forced to bring in my breast-milk through suckling me several times daily until the milk came in, (yes, induced lactation is apparently possible for many women,) and then a main source of nourishment for him would be my milk. He would always be hungry and would be trained to salivate and have hunger pangs at the sight of me unbuttoning my shirt and pulling my tits out of the top of my bra.
-his pussy-training would not only prepare him to be desirable and pleasing to men, but also develop his desire to be penetrated, so that it were his preferred means of sexual stimulation and he would constantly crave being filled with cock.
-he would be trained to show his appreciation for being used by orgasming from anal stimulation alone.

These are a few of my many fantasies... he told me that he has been fantasizing about heavy bondage, forced feminization, and related things since he was a little boy. he described tying himself up as a child and getting caught with rope marks on his little legs. his first cum happened while he had dressed himself as a girl and was playing with bondage. I think he told me he had stuffed socks in his mouth too. He says he never was exposed to bdsm in media and he made it all up on his own, with no explanation of why or how he turned out that way. I feel a strange kind of mercy towards him in considering taking extreme power over him. He says the closer he comes to being owned and totally broken the closer he will be to peace. Some how the words he uses to describe it convince me this would be true, and I feel that with him there would be a truely benevolent use for the desires that consume me. When I talk with him I feel a relief that the desires I normally relegate to fantasies or role play could be not only accepted, but deeply desired and actually helpful to someone.

Sometimes I get a sense that he and I will meet and do some of these things, even though he lives in Manitoba. I crave living out all of them, of course. Even if it never happens, I feel I have come to new levels of honesty and integration with myself through connecting with him.
- posted by Zoe @ 11:47 AM

 
Confieso Que He Vivido
Reading the memoirs of Pablo Neruda by candle light at night in my cabin inspired me to write this type of sexual memoir. Except mine is a memoir still in the making. Someday, if I am fortunate enough, I may write the rest as an old woman.

I have just returned from my two-week long stay at my cabin. The cabin is a long-time dream of mine, finding a beautiful place to live a simple (and by first-world standards rather primitive) life. Contrary to everything my parents told me, I do not find "brain-work" more pleasant than working with my hands. I love working with my mind of course, but not for money. I like my thoughts to be where I want them to be, while my body does the work. I love to garden, cook, build structures. This recent visit was my first one on my land. So satisfying to have a dream I've worked for so hard to start to come true. I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world.

My partner was with me the first week at the cabin, then he had to return to work. On the 12 hour drive there, we had many talks about our relationship and our sex life. He and I have been together for over 4 years, three of those spent living together in close quarters. It has been and "open relationship" the entire time, although we have agreed to various restrictions at various times. It is very hard for me to know sometimes if we have a "healthy" relationship in general. Health is hard to define, and harder to recognize. Our connection is rare and beautiful, but not easy.

The ways in which we are alike make us understand each other as we crave to be understood, or at least I feel this way, but our similarities also make for some problems. What we share is a level of emotional sensitivity that can and has bordered on emotional instability, artistic temperaments that always question everything and always feel the pain and nostalgia around us. Neither of us has had "easy" lives emotionally, although such things are relative and our lives have definitely always been marked by a certain amount of social privlege. We are both dealing with trauma from our family up-bringing, in which there were major power dynamics involving very overpowering and dominant parental figures. In his case, his mother and step father, in my case, my father.

Often I feel very alienated from other people around me, that I am consumed with heavy emotional and intellectual (and sexual) internal states, and that I don't even know how to begin to relate to other people on, to put it bluntly, such shallow levels. I am good getting along with them, when I want to, and I seem pretty normal socially... I've learned to "pass." But I always feel an inner alienation from them. Coming home to D. is like coming home to someone who's reality I share. I feel understood and not lonely.

He is more sensitive and unstable than myself, no question about it. I struggle not to fall into feminine roles of care-taking him. He is more stubborn and dominant than myself, and I struggle not to fall into feminine roles of walking on eggshells around him. These are things we analyze and are aware of, without which these dynamics would definitely be unhealthy. The fact that we have power dynamics may be unhealthy, but the fact that we analyze them and work against them on a weekly basis is pretty special. He has had some pretty severe emotional problems from the beginning, ones that I wouldn't tolerate now the way I did when I was 23, but his ability to grow and heal has been amazing and given me much confidence in him and in us as a couple.

We never seem to be free from power dynamics. Power and love are the twin themes of my life, and of my greatly neglected novel. I notice my relationship with M. (my outside lover and submissive) is not so imbued with power dynamics. This could be because of the limited realm of our relationship. We don't have to live together, keep house together, and infinite number of practical details that involves. But also, I think the mix of our personalities doesn't result in power struggles as easily. He had an easier family life than D. His resulting stability makes him a pleasure to be with, but I sense that if I were having a long-term relationship with him or someone like him, that there would be the same feeling of alienation and loneliness I feel with people generally. Not that he is shallow. He's not, he's smart and kind and I would say even wise. But how could someone who has never felt that life is hell relate to me?

I don't feel like life is hell for me anymore. But I understand life's potential to be hell. D. wants to put a cartoon character picture of himself on the cover of his next record album. He would have a childlike smile on his face and tear glittering on his cheek, symbolizing the sadness of the world.

But the power dynamics! Every interaction, over putting laundry away, over what movie we see, results in a power struggle. Each of us feels the need to defend ourselves against being encroached on by the other constantly. Objectively I have to say (and he would agree) that he encroaches on me more than I encroach on him, but really we are both very traumatized about other people getting pushy with us in ways that insult our dignity that the slightest encroachment seems to have a huge impact.

And sex, one of the most constant issues in our relationship... He needs to "make love" to feel bonded and sexually satisfied. He needs it weekly, if not daily. My sexuality is deep and wide, but only about 5% of it or less concerns "sex".

Sex does not make me cum, and sex does not make me wet. Intercourse sex I mean, and oral sex or even anal sex. Kissing does not turn me on or make me wet. Having my breasts fondled does nothing without power exchange. I did not understand this when he and I fell in love.

I used to enjoy "vanilla" sex greatly when I was younger, but only in the context of short-term relationships. I now know that it was not the physical aspect of the sex I liked, but the power I had over those boys and girls I made love to. I was always very comfortable and adventuresome with sex from the time I was a teenager, having many group-sex experiences by the time I was 18. My sexual skill and boldness, my bisexuality, my lack of inhibition, and my "pin-up girl" figure (more so when I was 20!) made me very desirable to men especially. I loved the power that gave me, power I felt in no other area of my life, sadly. My sexuality brought far more respect and attention to me in life than my intellect, my creativity, and certainly did more for me socially than my deviance or my sensitive and somewhat tortured soul, which is ultimately my prize possession and my best quality.

So, the quantity of vanilla sex I enjoyed was really the beginning of my foray into power exchange. Men's' desire for me gave me so much power, and I loved to be the one to surprise them, to teach them, to watch them need me so badly, to torment them, to watch how their hearts (normally so hidden) were revealed totally in the intimate universe of my bed.

The first months with D. were the same way. Our shared fetish for anal sex was my main source of sexual power. This is one of a few fetishes we have in common, and thank god for those otherwise we would have no way to relate sexually at all. For me, anal sex and domination/submission are absolutely connected. If I am penetrated, it needs to be in the context of submission, otherwise it's not very sexy. If I am penetrating, it has to be in the context of domination, otherwise it becomes bland.

In my teens I read erotica in bed for hours every week masturbating. The things that turned me on most involved anal sex or power exchange. Proponents of censorship would pounce on my confession that The Story Of O corrupted my sexuality forever, as it has done for so many people, to justify their banning of such books. Who knows if it changed me or if I recognized myself in it. I definitely responded to the BDSM sexuality in those stories like nothing before and my sexuality has not been "normal" since. I didn't realize people were living out such fantasies in their everyday lives until a few years ago, after I was already with D. I had not stopped masturbating to bdsm fantasies since I was a teenager, so translating them into reality became my main sexual focus, and one of my main priorities in life, really.

At that point we were already having sex less and less frequently, after living together for some time (we moved in together after 2 months of dating, for practical reasons as well as romantic) The power in having sex with him was waning for me, as he became accustomed to me instead of overwhelmed and impressed by my sexuality. I was able to live out many of my submissive fantasies with him. I am a switch (my dominant side is, well... dominant, these days) and he is capable of dominating but not submitting. I wouldn't say he's a dom though. He gets off on it, but mostly he likes the power to be neutral, with a few fetishes thrown in.

I would have liked to have been dominated by a more innately sexually dominant man, but I liked what we did anyway, even though it was kind of a stretch for him and not totally convincing. It was beautiful and deep. I did have some nice experiences submitting to other people, and have haunting memories of brutal hair-pulling scenes, hard spankings, strangulation, and nipple torture that I will never forget. Those men were switches and I think ultimately my desires towards them became dominant rather than submissive. I fell in love with both of them, in unique ways each time.

As my desires became more totally focused on domination, it became harder and harder for D. and I to relate sexually. Our sex life has not been satisfying for him for most of our relationship now. I would say its not really satisfying for me either, except I feel like I kind of don't need it to be. I am happy, as I have been since I was a teen, with having diverse partners. I love him profoundly and he is family to me, in many ways my only family now. He is my brother, my child, my father, my best friend, and yes, my lover too. He is my home and my life. I am so attached to him and so fond of him.

It is very sad to me that because of our sexual differences, he does not feel as completely bonded to me. If we do not have sex he starts to feel alienated from me. I understand this, although I resent it. I have tried to expand, without much success, the small portion of my sexuality that we share, and he has tried to do the same for me with bdsm. He will dominate me whenever I ask. The fact remains that he starts to fall out of love with me if I don't fuck him. My heart saddens as I feel in some ways not a love slave in fantasy, but in reality. That is something neither of us can accept.

After trying to resolve this for years now, we have no idea what to do about this. My dominant desires become more and more extreme and so does my need to live them out. My interest in sex wanes further. My love for him becomes both stronger and more damaged with time.


- posted by Zoe @ 1:40 PM