Learning Curves

I had a dream about Prisma last night.  Unfortunately, it was not one of the hot, steamy, sexy kinds of dreams, although I have had those about her too.  Prisma is a very cute, smart, and very hot girl that Damascus and I have huge crushes on.  We even somehow had the good fortune of sharing some fun, casual, sexy time with her.  I am still not sure how that happened, but it was amazing. It was... until I think I broke it with an emotional outburst and misunderstanding. I am pretty sure I broke it.  Fortunately, it seems to have not effected our friendships, which gives me relief, but I have been pretty hard on myself for letting my emotions get to me and causing things to get weird.

Anyway, in my dream, Prisma came to a party of all of our friends.  As in real life when she enters a room, the mood of the room lifts and everyone is a little more excited.  Including myself.  In the dream, also like in real life, I tried desperately to keep up with the general conversation, failing frequently in volume and humor, but succeeding wildly in awkwardness. At some point she mentioned she was hungry, and I set out on what became a giant obstacle-filled adventure to obtain food for her.  The adventure involved a yard full of men grilling meat (which I don't eat much) and a painful exchange with my boss from 10 years ago who used to tease me about my vegetarianism at the time.  I don't know what all the meat imagery was about, probably to contrast masculinity with femininity or something.  Anyway, I don't think I ever got the food to her.  And in the time I took to find it, I am sure someone else brought her some dinner.  Hell, she is a resourceful and independent person, she probably found it herself.  And probably wasn't expecting me to seek out nourishment for her in the first place.

In fact, in the dream, Prisma never even asked me to help or serve her, I took it upon myself, in what was probably a desperate act to be liked or to get some attention.  At least that was the revelation I came to when I woke up.  I was also strangely hungry for a hamburger.

This dream got me thinking about my relationships with women.  My friendships with girls have always been difficult. Grade school, junior high, and high school were filled with drama filled relations with girls.  I always struggled with same sex friendships. And yet, I was also attracted to women from pretty early on in my sexual development.  I told one boyfriend late in high school, who clearly approved.  Then I went to college and met my ex-husband, and I kept my bi-curiosity a secret for 17 years, because I knew he would not approve.  I lived with it in my head, though, knowing that my fantasies were my own.  By the time we split up, I was pretty comfortable with my attraction to women.  The new change would become the fact that I could actually pursue it as a single person.  And I did!

Exploring my new found bisexuality as a thirty-something for the first time has been exciting!  At first, considering all those years of wondering what it would be like to kiss, touch, and have sex with a girl... part of me worried that if I ever did get to have the experience, it wouldn't live up to what I made it in my mind.  To my happy surprise, it was even better!  And I have had a few amazing women share it with me. And even though I am in a relationship with a man, I still think about women and crave sex with women.  Happily, he approves of this and shares my fantasies with me, and has even helped to make them a reality, like in the case with Prisma.

But the thing that I didn't expect was the emotional turmoil that I would experience with these new, more intimate relationships with women.  All my relationships were with men in the past, and I feel like I have a lot of experience with the problems and joys that I have had with my relationships with men.  But with women, it's like a whole new experience, one that I have been fumbling through pretty awkwardly.  I have experienced emotional highs and lows that I have never felt with men.  Unexpected situations and misunderstandings that I didn't expect, arising from both myself and my various female partners, which have surprised me with major confusion and heartbreak on several occasions.

And this shouldn't surprise me or bother me as much as it does. As usual, I should cut myself a fucking break. After all, it is a completely new relationship experience for me. In the larger picture of my life so far, I have only very recently given myself the freedom to flirt with, date, or play with women.  It makes sense that I am stumbling about like a teenage heterosexual boy who is discovering girls for the first time.  And just the way I struggled with dating men for the first time, decades ago, I should allow myself some freedom to fail in this new path of sexual discovery.  So, I am working on being hopeful, and being as proud as I can that I have not caused so much chaos and turmoil as to have broken the friendships I have had with the women I have been intimate with.  It's a learning curve, after all.

The Toy

photo source

"Thank you for letting me play with your toy" Modu said earnestly to Damascus, after one of our first kinky play dates together, which Damascus requested to witness so he could gauge his comfort level.  "Hey!" I objected, my feminist ideologies immediately kicking in.  I started to say that I wasn't a toy, I was a person, and a smart and independent one who didn't want to be treated like an object.  But those words didn't come out of my mouth, because as I sat there and started constructing the perfect witty socially correct retort, I looked at the two boys smirking at each other, and I reconsidered my objection. They knew as much as I did that I liked being their toy. I enjoyed becoming a plaything, for each of them, in different ways.  I love when I am able to turn off my responsible, busy, independent, and stubborn brain to let each of them do as they please with me, or to do what they ask of me.  There is something satisfying and liberating about allowing myself to become a sexual object, for a delicious few moments.

I am only a toy because I allow myself to be a toy. It is my choice.

The Reflection

 photo source

We had finished our school scenario playtime together and I was slowly gathering my clothing to get dressed, chatting with Modu as I casually moved around the room.  I caught him looking at me as I was leaning over to pick up my bra, he was admiring my breasts.  I looked down at them and saw how gravity pulled at them, making them look distorted and strange as I leaned over.  Embarrassed, I cupped my hands over them to hide them as I blushed and turned around, mumbling something about hating my saggy boobs.  With all the Modu has seen of me, why did I still feel the need to hide my body?  Especially when he was looking at me admiringly and was clearly pleased at what he saw.

In a sudden rush, he got up from the couch, grabbed me by the hair, and led me to the corner of the room.  This move surprised me, as I was deep in thought and my back was turned to him.  He had my attention now!  Tightening his grip on my hair and pulling my head up, I noticed we were standing in front of a large round mirror on the wall.  "Look in there, what do you see?" he demanded.

Ugh, I was topless and exposed in front of the mirror.  I could barely look at myself,  My face turned red and I tried to squirm away. He repeated his demand, making me look again.  "You and me" I said.

"I see a beautiful woman", he said. "Don't you?"  I still couldn't look. "I want you to tell me that you are a beautiful woman", he whispered firmly in my ear, his eyes locked on mine in the mirror's reflection. This was painful.  I had happily endured spankings, hair pulling, pinches and scratches that evening, but that was all physical pain... and quite minor in comparison to this emotional wound that he was prodding.  Tears started to well up in my eyes.  I am a strong woman, reasonably confident in my work and life, so why is making a simple statement such as this so difficult?  The words stuck in my throat as tears started to trickle down.  I think I managed to speak, but the grip on my hair and the growl coming from behind me let me know that my delivery was unconvincing.

Modu loosened his grip, seeing that this was actually painful for me, and tried another approach.  He softened his touch, stroked my skin slowly, and followed my curves with his fingertips as I watched the reflection.  "How could you not see beauty here?" he asked.  I shifted my gaze to watching him, as he looked at me. "I am ashamed to be so exposed", I answered.  "There is no shame here, in this place. It is safe here", he said.

It's not that I necessarily hate my body, although I do feel some dislike for it, sometimes. The saggy, flabby bits frustrate me and make me feel self conscious at times. But overall, I feel fairly comfortable in my skin.  But feeling sexual about it is a different story.  And feeling as if I am being looked at in a sexual way by others is especially difficult.  I had conditioned myself to a life of prudishness, shamefully hiding under baggy clothes and cutting myself off from anyone who might express the slightest perceived desire for me. I spent many years in my marriage being told I was looking or behaving slutty, for the most innocent of outfits or behaviors.  The most casual flirting was cause for days of arguments and a tiny bit of cleavage or unexpected nipple erection showing through my clothing in front of others was cause for harsh judgement.  That hell is over and I have many partners and friends who encourage me to express my sexuality now.  I am working on reclaiming the term "slut", even!  But those emotions are still very real and very painful.

Perhaps this scene in front of the mirror has some basis in behavioral therapy. Maybe it is a form of exposure therapy where I am directed to expose myself to the things that are problematic in my life, slowly and with guidance, in order to work through them.  I think this is what I have been seeking with BDSM.  It is very challenging and difficult, but very rewarding.  By the time Modu and I said goodnight and I left for my drive, I had spoken aloud and with confidence that I was beautiful and sexy, and I think I believed it.  I also watched myself orgasm in the mirror, by my own hand, as a final treat.  While I left the house with tears dried on my face, I was happy and felt a confidence that I rarely feel.  Perhaps I will be able to stop avoiding the scary Mirror soon, and take another good look at the beauty within.

Kinky University

 photo source

Imagine a school scenario, some sort of a naughty college called Kinky University.  I am a struggling student.  A bashful and shy exterior mask the mind of a girl who is more sexually devious than meets the eye.  When pressed to do my sexy schoolwork, my bashfulness is often replaced with bratty defiance.  Thus, I am not doing well in my studies and need to frequently meet with the school's Headmaster for special lessons and discipline.  The Headmaster is patient but is strong and stern, and makes it his mission to see that his student follows his rules, learns her lessons, and conducts herself properly in his presence.

First Lesson

I walked into his room, nervously excited.  This was to be my first lesson with the Headmaster and I wasn't sure what to expect, and I was feeling very bouncy with extra energy.  He stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, silently glaring at me.  I stood there for a moment, uncomfortably wondering what to say.  His eyes were fixed on me, but looking into them made me blush, so I looked everywhere but at him, squirming in the awkward silence.  "um, I am here for my lesson" I said, meekly.  A few moments of silence passed as I looked at my shoes, my feet tapping an uncontrollable nervous dance.  I could feel my face getting redder as the silence continued to fill the room.  I wanted to run away, but i gathered up my courage and looked at him in the eye.

"You are tardy" he said. "And you have not properly addressed me as you have been instructed".

"oh my goodness, I am sorry, I couldn't find my keys, and I was running late", I stammered. "It was only a few minutes anyway..."

"That is not acceptable, and you still haven't addressed me properly", he said, with a strong, firm tone, which caught my attention and made my heart race.

"I am sorry, Sir."

He unclasped his arms that had been crossed at his chest.  Whew, I thought, he has accepted my apology and we can start our lesson!  He suddenly moved towards me and grabbed my hand, pulling it behind my back, spinning me around so he was close behind me, and with the other hand grabbed my hair and pulled me close to him.  "Your apology is noted, but you will need to be punished for your thoughtlessness", he said calmly and forcefully.  "Do you understand, Little Missy?".

"Yes, Sir, I think I understand" I said, quietly, my heart racing.  I squirmed around, trying to break from his grip.  "Are you sure you understand? Quit squirming around and respond properly" He said, pulling me a little closer, gripping my hair a little tighter to raise me off of my feet to my tiptoes.  "Yes, Sir!"  I declared.

"Very well, then,"  He said as he released his grip on me but remained behind me.  He hovered behind me, and I could hear his words close to my ear, which sent shivers down my back. "You will receive your discipline later.  First, we will start your first lesson. Today's lesson is about repetition.  I want you to repeat what I say back to me, changing it to the first person.  Do you understand?"

"I think so, Sir."

"Tell me you're a naughty girl"

"You're a naughty girl" I say with a sassy tone, in defiance.

He grabbed my hair again and pulled it hard enough that my knees started to buckle.  He brought his other hand in front of me to my neck, stabilizing me, making me feel just short of feeling like he could choke me easily with a tighter grip.  "Try that again, with less of an attitude", he growled.

"I am a naughty girl".  I heard a little growl behind me, my cue to remember..."Sir!"

"Good girl" he said, releasing me slightly, but keeping his hands in my hair and on my neck lightly, just in case I slipped up again.

The lesson went on for several rounds.  I had to repeat to him that I would do as Sir pleased.  That I deserved to be spanked.  That I was going to be a good little slut.  That I was thankful that Sir took time out of his schedule for my lessons.  Some of the things he asked me to say made me blush, they sounded so dirty.  If I hesitated or protested, he would inflict a little pain upon me.

After many rounds of repetitions, Sir said,"Your lesson is complete now"  and he released me from his grip.  I turned around to face him, feeling relieved, and said, "Thank You Sir."  I felt like I learned a lot. Even though it was hard to say such naughty things, it also felt good to say those dirty things, and I appreciated Sir giving me permission by demanding I say them.

I started to compose myself and got ready to leave the room.  "Where do you think you are going, Missy?"  he said, reaching to the table for the paddle.  "You still require your punishment."  He pointed to the edge of the table.  "Life your skirt, bend over the table, and spread your legs."

My heart, which had just started to calm, pounded fiercely again.  I had hoped to sneak away without discipline, but the Headmaster is not one to forget or change his word when it comes to punishment.

"Yes, Sir", I said, moving to the table, and doing as he requested...

Insight

photo source

It has been a week since my first "date night" alone with Modu (since being in a relationship with Damascus) which I think is enough time for me to have processed and responded to the experience.  I had received permission from Damascus the week before... he told me he would be comfortable with it and we laid down some more ground rules.  I arranged with Modu for a night where we could have some privacy.  I was nervously excited, but I was afraid that something would go wrong and it wouldn't happen.  I resigned myself to not backing out because I felt too greedy or selfish.  I took the whole evening off and did some shopping and had a nice dinner when I got to his city, which is about an hour and a half away.  The travel time proved to be a very good time for me to have time to myself to think. By the day of the date, when I was sure it was going to happen, I resolved not to think negative thoughts about it and to enjoy the butterflies and the nervousness that I was feeling.  I was giggly and blushy and silly feeling, and I checked in with Damascus a few times to make sure he was doing ok, but I wanted very much to enjoy the evening.

And I did enjoy the evening.  We played with some new ideas we had been discussing, like role playing, and spent some time figuring out our boundaries.  We stopped a few times to discuss things and played some more.  There was no sexual contact between the two of us (that is part of the agreement) but I experienced much pleasure.  I am constantly surprised at the things that bring me to orgasm, and I think Modu likes the challenge of finding those things... the less conventional, the better. Some of the things we did were psychologically intense, guided by me to be emotionally healing, and I think it was very successful.  That deserves a whole post of its own someday.  I left feeling very satisfied, in every way, and relaxed and at peace.  The long drive home was spent singing loudly to music that makes me happy, and I came home to Damascus in my bed, who welcomed me with snuggles and an open ear.  And later, a hard cock. :)

For the next week, I felt that same relaxed happiness, and it seemed to spread everywhere.  People complimented me more and said I looked happy and glowing.  I think I was radiating happiness and contentment and I felt pretty shiny.  I think Damascus felt a little blue the next day and said he felt envious that he and I don't have the same sort of experience together.  I tried to reassure him that what I have with him is even more special, and I truly mean it.  I think such feelings of envy are pretty normal, and I am glad he was able to express them in a thoughtful way.  I am making it a point to let him know how special he is and to reassure him more.  It's hard for me sometimes, when I have so much going on in my life, but it is important.

I think the thing I learned most is that this relationship situation is what I have been seeking for quite some time.  I feel happy and content in this place.  I feel like I am challenging myself and am growing.  I am being ethical and communicative and working on getting my needs and desires met.  This is a new feeling for me, and it warms my heart to think that I am taking care of myself, finally.

Greed

photo source

Lately I have been having a hard time with feeling greedy about my sexual appetites and interests, and I want to break the habit of feeling this way, because I don't think the feelings are accurate and realistic.  In actuality, I am being open, careful, thoughtful, ethical, and as communicative as I can be, and that doesn't seem like greed to me. For the first time in my life, I am working very hard on verbalizing what my needs and wants are, and making an effort to have them met. I just might have a lot of needs and wants.  Or maybe I don't... I don't think I have an appropriate scale to weigh what "a lot" is. And I am realizing that there is probably no standard that is fair, that we all need and want differently, at different times in our lives.

My marriage with Intaglio did not have much in terms of sexual happiness on my part. We were together for 17 years and I was unsatisfied for most of those years in terms of sex.  I had a larger appetite and was much more curious about all sorts of things, but he did not encourage me in any way, and in fact he often seemed scared, judgmental, and turned off by any expressions of female sexuality on my part.  I tried many times and many ways to discuss these issues with him over the years, but it only made me feel worse.  I felt ashamed and greedy, like a slut who could never be satisfied.  He was almost puritanical in his thoughts about sex, and I felt like when it did happen, I should be grateful.  But it was never enough (it was infrequent, and not physically satisfying to me anyway, most of the time, probably because he was uninterested in actually meeting my needs)  In efforts to satisfy my needs, I hid porn and sex toys, and kept my fantasies to myself, hidden secretly away. I never cheated on him. I honestly see how one could be driven to cheat in such a situation, though but I am too ethical for that.

Now I know that there were many reasons why he was the way he was and I am still trying to figure out why I continued on in that state for many years, telling myself that sex was not an important issue in a relationship.  I convinced myself that I didn't need to explore all of these thoughts and feelings (and they were probably abnormal anyway). I don't have the answers to why and how my marriage was so terrible for so long, and I might never fully understand it. The point is, I became pretty comfortable denying my sexual needs.

I spent a couple of years after the divorce resentfully blaming him for making me this way, but that is not exactly fair.  Yes, he was emotionally controlling (and questionably emotionally abusive) and he used my sexuality as a way to keep me imprisoned in the relationship using shame and guilt.  But I could have fought harder for independence and I could have left eariler... those were my choices, my responsibility.  I was not strong enough to leave and even moreso, I didn't think he was strong enough to handle me leaving. Now the relationship is long gone and faded and I need to own up to my issues and do the work that I need to do to make myself whole.  But that ghost of shame remains, and it is strong, and the feelings of shame and guilt are still very much with me.  Post divorce, I still struggle with these feelings, even though I have been with sexual partners who have been encouraging and accepting. I still feel greedy for wanting so much.

Now my relationship with my partner Damascus is very different than with my ex-husband. Our relationship seems to be reasonably healthy and we get along well and work hard at communicating. And we have amazing sex! Frequently! I realized though, that I still have a very hard time asking for what I want and need. It is painfully hard for me to even think about asking him to go down on me, or to shower me with kisses in a good old fashioned make-out session, or whatever else I might be craving.  And it is frustrating because I know he would not call me greedy, and he would not judge me.  He would probably be thrilled that I expressed these things to him.  But it is so hard to just get the words out of my mouth.  They are just stuck there, on the tip of my tongue, echoing in my head, and they sometimes stay there until the feelings just go away. And then I get a little angry at myself for letting the moment pass.

I have been reading The New Bottoming Book by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy (which is a book about the psychology of the "bottom" or "submissive" in a S/M Relationship, and it has been very helpful to me.  There is a section about "Reclaiming Our Greed" that really spoke to me:

" 'Greedy' is often used as a pejorative term, both outside the S/M communities and within them.  We would like to propose the reclamation of the word 'greedy'. There's nothing wrong with wanting a lot; there's nothing wrong with getting a lot.  In fact, the more you get, the more you have to give...A bottom who has acknowledged his or her needs and wants, and who is getting them met, is usually an open-hearted, generous, supportive bottom...Greed and generosity are two sides of the same coin: grasp it firmly and spend it well."

I have been keeping this in mind as I begin to express my needs and wants and am working to get them met, and I think I am starting to get the hang of it!

Setting the Structure

photo source

I have been thinking lately about my recent interest in BDSM.  I have been reading as much as I can about it, trying to understand some of the more psychological aspects.  Given my complicated history with my sexuality, I know the attraction has got to be more than a sensory response.  While I do take pleasure in some of the painful stimuli I have experienced with my play partner (who I will call Modulator, or Modu for short) I find myself much more curious about the power exchange aspects of our times together.

When Modu and I started seeing one another, I was very confused by the power exchange.  While I think I always had curiosity about kink, this was my first partner with experience in it, and that attracted me to him immediately.  By the end of the night of our very first meeting, my hair was sore from being pulled and my back was full of scratches, and all of this had occurred very casually and naturally (and privately) in a room full of my friends.  Throughout our short time together, we experimented more, and I realized I was quite kinky and not as vanilla as I thought. I worked through my issues of my feminist beliefs clashing with giving up power to a man to dominate me. And I started to reconcile the past emotional abuse of my ex-husband, who used my sexuality to control me with shame and guilt, realizing that a consensual giving up of power and control was not the same as having it taken from you in an abusive way.

After seeing Modu for a few months, I met Damascus, who is my current boyfriend/partner.  We fell for each other and I closed all of the relationships I was having in order to figure out my feelings for Damascus.  We started to become more serious and have been together in a monogamous relationship for almost three years now!  We have come to a content and strong point in our relationship.  We communicate quite well, are kind to each other, support one another, and have great sex on top of it all!  He is younger and has a more active libido that I do, which I try to take advantage of as much as possible. He is also very curious about sex and is always looking to experiment.

When we first started seeing each other, I told him about my thoughts about open relationships and about my bisexuality and about my interest in kink.  He was accepting of my views on these things, but didn't know if he would be able to incorporate them into a relationship with me.  I set those ideas aside for a while, wanting to focus on just the two of us and making us a strong couple, but I had always hoped to return to the possibility of playing with other people.  We have recently started experimenting, first with a gorgeous woman that we both adore, and now we are working on adding some kinky play with Modu back into my life.  While these changes have been an emotional roller coaster in many ways, I am feeling more loved, happier, and more free that I have ever felt.  I am beginning to believe that BDSM can be a form of therapy for me, something cathartic that can help me through my brokenness.

Two weeks later:  Ok, the above is one of several "first posts" here on the blog and was getting a lot of thoughts out, but wasn't ready to publish yet.  Then I lost power at my house for several days, then I had to catch up, and here we are two weeks later from the post I just wrote. So much has happened since then!  But I decided to go ahead and post this scattered history, just to get the first real post out.  I had some real breakthroughs with Modu, in our first playtime that was just the two of us (first time while I have been in a relationship, that is).  And I am happy with the way Damascus is handling this difficult big step into open relationships. I am also realizing that he may have some kinks of his own that we can enjoy very much together, and I hope to grow stronger and more confident to be able to share this with him.  We are attending our first "Munch" tonight with two of our sexiest friends.  I hope to meet some like minded people. Things feel very good and less confusing than they did a couple of weeks ago.  Big Deep Breath... there it is, the first post. :)

Feeding the Fire

photo source

In ceramics, the Anagama kiln is an ancient form of firing pottery. It is a complex firebox, requiring an intuitive approach to firing as well as constant stoking and special attention. The kiln is volatile and often unpredictable, but with patience and care, it is capable of producing treasures of amazing beauty.

I have chosen the name Anagama to write under because I relate to the mysterious ancient kiln. I find the word to be beautiful and sensual. Also, I am a ceramic artist, making my living working in clay. Clay is my life, and I see the kiln as a symbol of beautiful power, one that transforms the most base of materials into something new and beautiful. It seems natural that I would relate to a thing of such power and that it would become a symbol for myself as I explore my own views on similarly fiery subjects in my life.

In the last few years, I have been exploring new relationships and ideas about my sexuality. This has been challenging, difficult, emotional, heartbreaking, and blissful. I have a lot of questions, mixed feelings, and confusing emotions swirling through me.  My hopes are that journaling these ideas and thoughts will help me explore these things in a more productive way.  I intend to write about my thoughts about relationships, ethical non-monogamy, my bisexuality, and interest in BDSM and other sexual treasures. I hope that sharing some of my struggles with my sexuality, which I stifled and kept secret for many years during an unhappy marriage, will help me become more healthy and whole again. 

I am writing this journal as a gift to myself on my journey of self discovery.  I choose to share it (albeit anonymously) because others may be seeking out some of the same thoughts and ideas.  I have spent much time in the last few years reading what others have written about some of the same issues that I have experienced, and it has helped me tremendously.  If you know me in real life, please be discreet with your knowledge connecting me to this blog.  While I am working on becoming more open and honest with my life, I also value privacy.

If you have thoughts, comments, or support to share, please feel free to leave me comments on the posts.