Bliss as a bottom

pale hedda This weekend I had the pleasure of demo bottoming for a shibari (kinbaku) class at the local dungeon. This is something I never thought I would be able to do, on account of my advancing age, my funny face and my generous stomach, not to mention my inexperience. (Where “experience” means two or three years participating in a committed heteronormative relationship with weekly painful, upside-down suspensions mimicking circus-style professional rope performances and/or high-end photographs of full-time bondage models.) It’s true that I wasn’t asked to bottom, but when I found out that the man I’d started playing with was going to teach a class, I volunteered by text and he responded with an (admittedly non-stoked-sounding) “okay.” In January at Shibaricon, I had stepped up as a last-minute bottom when he, a total stranger, needed a partner for a private class with a fabulous rigger. That was an extraordinary experience. I thought it was only fitting that we recreate it. We’d played a couple of times before we met for this week’s rehearsal. I had discovered that he is really mean and prefers to be brutal, and I am not someone who wants to be brutalized. (I had, it’s true, enjoyed grappling with him and trying to evade his assaults. The vicious hairpulling and unrelenting pressure-point-pushing were tough but … well, let’s just say that, if he ever asks, I will not hesitate to deny any interest in breast slapping and nipple twisting.) So I arrived at his place feeling like there wasn’t much hope that we’d be anything but teammates for a single class and thereafter wave to each other at munches. But then we rehearsed and my feelings changed.
pale dramaWe discovered that my top doesn’t have to thump me to be mean. He has the option of meanly keeping me in line, something I never thought I’d allow. The type of rope he was set to teach is derived from Yukimura Haruki’s style and philosophy. It’s designed to exercise close control over the bottom’s body, and yet because the techniques of capturing and tying the bottom use the bottom’s body “against” her, I got to be far more mobile than I could be in a typical partial suspension with impact play. An aspect of this style that I particularly enjoy—because I like to feel humiliated—is the top exposing the bottom’s body. The day we rehearsed, I was wearing a long skirt. My top reached out along my extended leg to slowly pull the skirt up till it covered only a few inches of my upper thigh. When I half-whined “My leg is cold,” he responded “Tough.” This made me giggle on the inside, so he wouldn’t hear me, because it was the perfect rebuff of a gratuitous complaint. When we taught the class a few days later, he gave me the option to demonstrate how fruitless it would be to struggle. That seemed lame, so I said “ummm” and then tried to escape completely. He brought me down easily. I yelped and groaned and knelt with my head to the mat to demonstrate my complete surrender. He rotated me 45 degrees so that the class could see the next part of the demo and then shocked the hell out of me when he smacked my foot to drive my leg back into the proper position. I deserved that, exactly that, as a correction to my behavior, and it was perfectly satisfying. He felt that way too. (There’s nudity under the cut. For realz.) Continue reading

Till you come

creepingdawn A couple I met at Shibaricon moved to my town. Suddenly I have two people, both of them tops, to tie with. I’ve played twice with the male half. He describes his topping style as murderous. That’s definitely the right word. Playing with someone rough has helped me to realize that my relationship with my first, oh-so-gentle top was quite romantic. On my way home the first night I played with the new man, I was overwhelmed with vivid sense memories of playing with my top. I remembered the pleasure I took in his company. I especially enjoyed the cute way he smiled and said “uh huh” any time I told him I was going to kill him when I got out of the rope. He was dear to me.  I wish he hadn’t changed that.
learning patience This colour-change bondage set by Phedora looks lovely. But when I first put on the straps locking the wrist cuffs to the thigh cuffs, they were nowhere near where they should be. Editing the set was a fiddly, frustrating business, and I had to default to my curvy av, rather than the skinny model I wanted to shoot, in order to expedite the process. Although someone told me that hers worked out of the box, the product includes a notecard from the creator stating that it requires editing skills. This warning should have been on the vendor. Or the product should not have been released. Or the straps should have been scrapped.

The best pic from this shoot is on the Pleisure Flickr.

Credits
PHEDORA. Isidora set Maitreya Lara v.2 (was at Romp)
(r)M Hair No.39’16 fantasy (0.7-9) HUD
#14 Blueberry – Energy – Boots – Maitreya *Sky* (gacha)
[CX] aka [CerberusXing], Melted Hearts tattoo (red ass optional) (at Uber)
Maitreya Mesh Body – Lara V3.5
Glam Affair – Sia skin ( Fairy Tales ) – Jamaica 08 A
shot at Japan BDSM

Fake your own magical girl

crystalmagicgirl If you like Japanese types and characters, this is your moment to make or fake your own out of SL’s embarrassment of Japanosities. I’d love to show you tomoto’s paint-splashed kimonos from Japonica and konpeitou’s sinister gacha items from the Origami market, but thus far I’ve managed only to assemble a look from The Crystal Heart Festival. The Festival celebrates the magical girl (mahou shoujo), about whom I know nothing that Wikipedia didn’t tell me. The Festival is full of schoolgirl uniforms and variations on the same two hairdos, and yet this doesn’t diminish its charm. I was thrilled to finally find a reason to buy a hairdo from LCKY, which features three colourable parts, in a delightful signature palette devoted wholly to rose tones—not reds. Once I figured out that the SallieLanguage gacha was selling pose-packed accessories and stands, I got so giddy about joining the wand and stars club that I altered my teen av Anorak’s mouth so that she smiles…slightly. Not knowing what the fuck I was doing with all this pretty paraphernalia meant I could detour my magical girl into cyber-kink territory with r2 A/D/E’s new Seika dress, available at Collabor88, and a leash from Delicious.
savethenvironmentmakemagicUltimately, there’s something un-cotton-candyish about today’s first pic, which left me feeling that neither I nor my av knows how to have fun. That’s when I decided to go to Foxville, where I surmised that magical girls are known for leaving their cars at home.

Credits
r2 A/D/E seika[gold1]Maitreya includes panties (at Collabor88)
[LCKY] Genie Roses pack (at Crystal Heart Festival)
SallieLanguage/Crystal Heart/Wand with pose HUD (gacha at Crystal Heart Festival, but bought on Marketplace because that’s my magic)
SallieLanguage/Crystal Heart/Star pose stand (gacha at Crystal Heart Festival, bought on Marketplace)
*katat0nik* Bow Wrist Strap Darks pack
..::DeliciouS::.. Doggy Dog Leash Gold (Female)
-Glam Affair – Elvi – America – 02 A (past gacha)
NOX. Metallic Freckles GIFT [Cheek / Rainbow] (past gift)
{S0NG} :: Cupid~ Dark Green Eye
pic two shot at Foxville

I, embodied

boosterI went to my first-ever yoga class about six weeks ago. Okay, I went to one when I was 20-something: turning red in the face, sweating, and failing to breathe inclined me to think I was not cut out for yoga. Being instructed to feel at one with the earth almost drove me out of the room: it was the late 80s, so I was a hard-core deconstructionist, meaning that anything remotely spiritual—or just plain connection-oriented—was suspect. (Everything was opiate of the masses. I’ve softened over time. Now I would say it’s weed of the many.) Twenty-five years later, I decided to try again because I want to be a more flexible and physically stronger rope bottom. On the first day, I felt completely at home because rope classes have accustomed me to sitting on the floor wearing a pair of leggings and a singlet—and wondering if I should stretch before the lesson. I debated whether I could apply to yoga the same reasoning I bring to sadomasochistic rope—there’s no sense in stretching if it’s supposed to hurt. (There’s hurt and there’s hurt. Eustress good. Distress bad.) (Speaking of, there’s nothing dangerous under the cut.) Continue reading

Keep feeling fractionation

lookintomybrighteyes

“Seeking EXPERIENCED rope top for rope scene involving intensification of rope sensations. More importantly—I want to feel the top welcome my submission in the forms of going into trance and supplication. Impact play—thuddy—also welcome.”

That’s the want ad I posted on the Wishes Board at MEEHU 3. MEEHU is the annual Midwest convention for erotic hypnosis enthusiasts. (There are east and west coast events for those of you who don’t live in the “heartland.”) I’d been curious about the con but not committed to going until I discovered that many of the classes involved rope and impact play as inducements to trance or as trance-enhanced experiences. (Caveat: hypnosis can cause anesthetization, so the subject may be insufficiently sensitive to pain levels.) I posted my Wish early Friday, the first day of the con, and took it down that afternoon when I realized that I was in over my head, as it were. “Deeper and deeper” the [hypno]tist says to their subject. “And drop!” (There’s no nudity or bondage under the cut but I do refer to f***ing, and to YouTube, which may be more disturbing.) Continue reading

Devolution of an image

what? “Why not break out of the bondage mould?” I thought to myself. Instead of heading to the dungeon in the three-piece Risa ensemble by Violent Seduction, I would create a fun, colourful character. Whom I promptly photographed in a serious environment—the lovely .anc. staircase with its lone window, where ethereal avs go to look otherworldly. It’s a rare gacha and takes pride of place on many an upscale sim. This one is It All Starts with a Smile. [We get kinky sexy under the cut.] Continue reading

Whistler’s other mother

reflectinginthepool In the wake of the breakup, I’ve gone back to being a lonely person who stays home, wonders how it is he could refuse to speak with me for more than a month, and kills time and pain by computing. I shoot in SL all the time, acting bizarrely like some kind of third-rate Penelope. I undo my day’s work every night so that I can postpone finishing it, hoping that I will figure out whether I want anything from life. (Anything other than old what’s-his-epic-name.) On a typical morning I’m logged in. I assemble an outfit, find a location and shoot and shoot and shoot and shoot, trying pose after pose after pose after pose, light after light after light after light. But I don’t like the results. So I return at night, but I can’t get the Windlight I finally chose to work any more—here for instance, I couldn’t get a longshot of my av’s hip-waderesque boots because my puter refused to render the reflections I’d enjoyed playing with in the morning. Penelope would have loved SL, especially in the good old days when one was lucky to get a handful of pictures in a long shoot that ran something like this: dress av/relog to make prims rez/choose between AnaLu Studio 5 and CalWL/pose/rebake textures/shoot/rebake/shoot/crash/relog/reset pose and Windlight/rebake/crash/make hysterical outburst/consume cola/relog like a champ. (One couldn’t be like a boss back then.)whistler'sothermotherfromanotherplanet I’m not satisfied and I have too much time on my hands. So the next day I do another shoot to capture the magnificent boot. That’s how I ended up with this picture, which I call Whistler’s Other Mother. (I was in my thirties before I could look past Whistler’s aged parent and enjoy the elegantly dour palette and not-so-awkward blocky composition of the painting. I urge you to relish that crazily extended lap while civilization still remembers paintings.) Of course, this is actually a picture of a mother from another planet: Portia wears the Natsuki butt-exposing cyber-suit and skyscrapingly tall boots by r2 A/D/E for this month’s Collabor88. The outfit is available in a variety of colours, including a shiny pearl shade that almost beat out black.
portia becoming pony I teleported down memory lane to find a setting for my second and third photos, which I snapped at NODE’s minimalist demo, House 03a at Slow. My favourite feature of the house is the relatively large pool that fronts the tiny single-story home. I always enjoyed the arrival of the fluffy dark cloud that circulates judiciously just above the Slow houses. It’s still there, and its momentarily hard rain still disturbs the smooth surface of the koi pool. But the pair of orange- and black-spotted koi are no longer in residence. Perhaps digital goldfish die at the same rate as the analog versions.

Credits
Throughout:
NEW r2 A/D/E natsuki boots[sheer]maitreya (this month’s Collabor88)
NEW r2 A/D/E natsuki[black1]maitreya (this month’s Collabor88)
NEW + Lamb. Bobbi – Eccentric pack (this month’s Collabor88)
Cheeky, Cuffed Belly Chain! Gold (resize)
[CX] Arm Piercing (Maitreya)(Gold)
Maitreya Mesh Body – Lara V3.5
.LeLutka.Mesh Head-STELLA v1.6
[:[Plastik]:- Varyne Skin:// FEM (past 50L Friday: this was a preview of the just-released line of skins that are really freckley and work with a variety of mesh heads)
Yasum*Nose Piercing *Black* (past gift at We <3 RP)
.DirtyStories. Heart Nose Piercing (past gg)
Pic 2: r2 A/D/E visor black (group gift in store)
Pic 3: Goth1c0: Leather Blindfold
hooves from a free pony play set, the origin of which I cannot recall (creator under Properties says Drachena Haefnir)
CHANTKARE, PONY NECKLACE (not available)
Pic 1 was shot at Prime 3D, which is a cyberpunk mall
Pics 2 and 3 at Slow

BDSM isn’t sex, but it is

thisistheendTwo posts ago I wrote about being dumped by my top. I said I would try to write about the problem of sexual reciprocity. Follow me under the cut.  Continue reading

We pictured me in rope

portia says relax My former top and I did a photo shoot. It was one of three bad experiences that contributed to the break up I detailed two posts ago. He wanted photos of a bottom in agony but he didn’t tell me that going into the shoot. He put me into an awkward pose, combining a gunslinger tie for the arms and a futo momo. He blindfolded me as we’d agreed to protect my identity, and gave me a rope gag when I said I was craving one. So far so good. He then occasionally thumped and shot me while I grew increasingly upset, but not because I was scene-time suffering. We were suspended some place between everyday interaction and scening, and that was not a place in which I felt safe. I should have stopped it. The larger problem turned out to be the photos themselves. I looked like limbs attached to a belly fattened to feed a cannibal army. The rodent-like contours of my face were not hidden by the blindfold or rope gag. The single-source stark light made everything worse. The good bits were shadowed: my breasts looked like collapsed lungs. The bad bits were lit like a prison yard during an escape attempt. I panicked at the thought of these photos going online. When I called to ask my rigger not to post them, he was disappointed, and I apologized for letting him down. I couldn’t have anticipated the way I would react. Then I asked him to try to Photoshop one of the pics, and he instantly refused: his style is to capture real people having real experiences and Photoshop is fakery. The visible distortions of my face and body were the point for him. The sight of a suffering bottom is “hot” to him; I am “hot” to him; hence the photos are beautiful. I never find rope photos hot. They can be exquisite, but the suffering bottom has to be glorious enough to transcend abjection. I transcended nothing. Continue reading