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According to one of the principles of fung shui, you should not have a mirror facing onto your bed. One of the reasons is that it apparently it is an invitation to your bed, and can ruin a relationship. My theory was that while single, it would then be perfect to have a mirror facing my bed, and really, feng shui is not something I completely believe in, and the only way my tiny room will work in this country is if my mirror reflects my bed.
The possibility of involving another person in my relationship with Mr.Aloof has always been on the table. Not as a permanent fixture, but as an experience. Since I met him it has been a topic occasionally discussed. Like most men, the proposal always involved another woman. In the past month or so, the topic took on a more serious tone and a meandering subject began to crystallize into an actual possibility. It is the main reason that our conversations of late have taken a turn in regards to 'what is this relationship' and 'what are you to me', as I think these are critical elements when considering the politics of adding others to the bed.
Thursday, I left S&M at topshop around 6 and headed south to meet Mr.Aloof at the warehouse. There was not too much conversation, even though it had been two weeks, but there was of course some kissing and hugs. We got into the elevator and were heading up, I think to the loft, but I had to use the toilet something fierce so we stopped off at the third floor. He told me to change into what was left out, and meet him upstairs. I was somewhat surprised to see it was simply the yukata and my wrist cuffs only- as there had been discussion about my corset and skirt and I had bought and brought with me my new boots as referenced in my last post. But the ways of Mr.Aloof can be strange and fickle so I didn't think much about it and rushed to the toilet for a while, which was my actual objective at the time.
Finishing up I went upstairs and sat in the corner of the room by the radiator. The building was overall cold, and I was cold from the outside still. The loft is lined with radiators and will heat up eventually, but Mr.Aloof had been away since before xmas, so it was just warming then. He appeared after a while and told me I could stay by the radiators if I wanted and he poured and then brought me a glass of wine. He wandered about doing this and that while I drank my wine and got warm. At some point I turned to face the radiator so I could put my feet and hands directly on it, so they could try to warm up as they were the last bits of me to do so. Mr. Aloof came up behind me and played with my hair and rubbed my shoulders a bit, and then produced the blindfold and cut off my vision, and then led me to stand and moved me to somewhere in the room.
Without much preamble the yukata was removed and the small warmth I had acquired started to leave me as the chill of the room hit my bare skin. My hands were pulled forward and the cuffs secured with rope. I held them to my body as long as I could to conserve warmth, but soon they were tugged up over my head, as I was clearly standing under one of the beams. Soon I was stretched, though not too tightly, and waited. I did not have to wait long before the whip came crashing into me. I had anticipated this action and was determined to stay stubborn and stoic, but a couple of the strikes hit true and I could not help but cry out and try to dance away- for all the good it did. "I really didn't appreciate all those pictures of dogs." Mr.Aloof hissed into my ear, grabbing my body and leaning into me. "Now you can either be good, and compliant tonight, and share wine and fruit and chocolate and warmth with me, or if you feel like fighting or running you can do that, and I will catch you, and the cage is downstairs and it is VERY cold. Are you going to run K? Well, are you?". All of this was said softly in my ear as hands ran along welted skin, played with hair, and pressed me to him lifting me off the ground. I shook my head no- the thought of the cold on the ground floor and the metal cage was more than even stoic and stubborn me wanted to suffer. He pulled away from me.
"You don't have any keys to drop K. You are here as long as I say you are here. If you ever send me a picture of another fucking dog, I will be much, much, harder on you." he said to me as he went about whipping me some more. Even though some strikes hurt, and some felt delicious I could not help but smirk a little as I squirmed and yelped. I knew I would at some point send another picture of a dog. The knowledge of what irritates is a powerful and addictive thing. Eventually the lashing stopped and I strained to hear his whereabouts over the loud music. I thought perhaps he had left the loft, but then felt my arms drop slowly and knew he was releasing the rope. Removing it completely he moved me elsewhere by guiding my shoulders and we stopped. "Where are you shoes?" he asked me.
"In my bag." I replied.
"I want you to change, leave the cuffs on, and remember, the cage is downstairs and it is cold." and with that he removed my blindfold and I blinked into a bright light that I was somehow looking at as he went off, presumably to get my shoes. In front of me was my corset and skirt on a chair and a reasonably tasteful framed picture of two women together, in a more intimate fashion. My skin burned in spots where the whip had left it's funny marks so I started with the corset. It takes time to lace it fully. I was halfway through when Mr.Aloof appeared long enough to place my shoes next to me and was off again doing other things. I continued lacing until it was tied off and realized that it had not been the smartest idea to lock myself into a back straightening device before attempting to put on a skirt and shoes, though I did manage. When finished I turned and scrutinized the dark corners of the room, allowing the possibility that there was another person somewhere lurking, but there was no one. Mr.Aloof saw that I was finished and approached me. "You are so beautiful." he said as he ran his fingers along the laces and felt along my leather encasement. We stood there for a while, kissing, touching. But then the blindfold was produced again and I was once again plunged into dark. He led me away and turned me and said "Sit" as he held my back and hand and I dropped back. I landed on what I knew to be the couch. He adjusted pillows for me behind my back so I could sit up better (corsets are strange things) and handed me my glass from earlier which had been refilled with wine.
It was likely his intent was to relax me by plying me with a few glasses of wine, which I easily drank. Of course, Mr.Aloof does not know that my tolerance is high under the best of circumstances- and if I am nervous or in unfamiliar circumstances and drinking, my tolerance sky-rockets to inhuman proportions. The wine was nice, but I was no less alert or any different had I not had a few glasses. Some time passed while I drank and even over the loud music I could hear him coming and going and busying about. Eventually he returned to me and after some short messing about he spoke. To paraphrase, he said that we had a guest, that he hoped she met the criteria of what I had expressed to him I found attractive in women, that he didn't have much planned except to see what happened, and that most importantly, and reiterated more than once, if at any point I felt I needed to talk to him, or was weirded out, I simply had to let him know and he would immediately make some space and privacy to talk.
He left me then, I imagine to get her and I drank the wine I had left, considering the oddity of my life and the less conventional things I have managed to get myself into, and the fact that I found myself to be completely calm. Guarded perhaps, as I am always around strangers, but calm, and not freaked. He returned after a while and told me that M was there, stood me up, and removed my blindfold. A petite blond woman in a black dress with a blanket draped around her stood in the center of a line of candles that had not been set up in the room beforehand. She walked slowly towards us with a shy smile on her face. Standing next to the two of us, with one arm around my waist, he reached out for her with his other hand. Leaning in, he kissed me and then straightening he turned and kissed her, then led us both to the sofa where there were cushions on the ground and so we sat, and after making sure everyone had wine, so did he.
The rest of the long evening would not make sense to describe in great detail, as it was a very long evening in truth. I know myself reasonably well, being the overly-introspective person that I am. I know that in strange or new circumstances I can be withdrawn and detached. Perhaps I was for the evening, both of these things. Though to the outside eye, I was more outgoing and talkative than I have ever been in an evening with Mr.Aloof. In fact, I used the presence of a third, and the knowledge that he would not punish me in front of her (because he had said so at some point before she arrived) to be a little bit snarky and playful like I typically am in email and by text, but never in person as retribution is always much closer. The evening was fun- certainly enjoyable. And I felt.... nothing? Curiosity perhaps. Objective interest. I was not jealous in the slightest. Even as the hours ticked on and the activity became more risque, and clothing disappeared. Being fucked and watching him fuck her. Kissing him while he fucked her, touching her while he fucked her, as she touched me. The logistics of a two person blow-job was interesting and I am amazed that CJC has had a three-person, as two was hard enough to coordinate really. What can I possibly say about such an experience? It didn't freak me out. It was fun and enjoyable. And at the moment I feel no differently towards Mr.Aloof than I did before.
Perhaps that's the crux of what I am thinking about more than the activities that happened. I have known from the start that I am not 'in love' with Mr.Aloof. Perhaps if I was I would be insanely jealous and obsessed about what happened, but I'm not. I suppose I am falling under societal peer pressure when what I doubt is this. I know what I said about 'being in love' and I know how miserable it has made me when I felt it. And I know that I'm pretty happy at the moment, and enjoy not being at the mercy of my own insanity. But I wonder if that's really okay. I mean, I believe it is okay- but I'm feeling guilt, as though I should want something more from all this, or that I should have some higher goal. I don't think I actually should, but I feel like I'm letting down some greater expectation about what it means to be a normal person by not being an emotional wreck. I don't know. I'm fucking complex as Mr.Aloof is fond of saying. Thursday night was fun and I found I was okay with things that maybe the majority of society wouldn't approve of. So what's wrong with that?
So S&M are upstairs getting it on.... I mean, getting their CLOTHES on of course, as we get ready to get out of the house this morning. I have packed my overnight bag so that I can leave S&M wherever we are at some point and go meet up with Mr.Aloof. In preparation for the evening I bought some boots yesterday. I've been wanting some boots, and even though these are not the boots that I tried on two years ago and fell in love with, they are very similar and will suit fine with my corset and long black skirt, which I have been told I will be wearing this evening.
Yesterday S&M and I went around Leicester Square and Piccadilly and Trafalger. We had dinner of crispy duck in Chinatown which is always delicious. And we also got tickets to see The Producers and went to the evening show. So that was all good fun. I don't think I loved The Producers as much as I have enjoyed other musicals and shows, but it was still pretty good.
Walking around was fun, and of course there was the boot purchase, as well as a buy from The Body Shop as well (body butter was half price!!). So now I'm just waiting and we're off to the changing of the guard (why does everyone want to see this?) and then we will be going by big ben and Westminster and all those sorts of things today. And also maybe Harrods. And also if there is enough time hit Oxford Street.
And I'm going to have a late night. Fuck me. No... that's later... *grin*
So S&M arrived today as planned. A bit late, as apparently the Thameslink wasn't running from Gatwick to London Bridge, but they made it eventually, somehow. After getting settled, we managed to pry ourselves out of my flat and on to Covent Garden as the first tourist attraction of their trip. On the way out, I dropped off my key with my neighbor who is going to be painting my hall this week, which is most excellent.
Taking the bus into town, we got off at Holborn and walked to Covent Garden from there. On the way, we stopped at Coffee, Cake, and Kink for some hot chocolate. I didn't actually think they would be game for going in and getting a drink, I was really just pointing it out for shock value in passing, but imagine my surprise when S suggested we go get hot chocolate. Of course this was fine with me, so off we went. S&M perused the many books and toys on display upstairs, though did not want to venture downstairs to sit. Fair enough, I was surprised they were in there at all! We sat upstairs and ended up chatting to two older British guys who were just in there having coffee and reading assorted smutty books.
From there we headed to Covent Garden and walked around looking at the shops and sales, street performers, and other offerings. It was chilly, having snowed this morning, and damp as well. Not ideal weather. We walked around for a few hours, and then headed back towards Hackney. I thought we would go to Bastille for dinner but when we got there it was closed! So instead we got on the bus and headed to south Mare Street where we ended up eating at Anatolia instead where the food was as good as ever, but the service was deplorable.
It was at the end of the meal where the conversation touched upon, and then snagged and took hold, of politics. And I learned, to my dismay, I am sheltering a Republican. How horrifying. Not my friend S, but her husband M. Still, the conversation became heated and intense, not necessarily a good thing. I will need to avoid the topic for the rest of the week in order to preserve my sanity. Of course, I am disappointed to hear anyone speak so fervently of the Republican agenda, to support it's party line. It's times like this I am sorry I am not more politically inclined to better uphold my side of the argument, but I honestly can't be asked.
In more fun news, Mr.Aloof has been texting me in regards to Thursday night which I will be spending at his. So far the pre-evening texts have been intriguing and suggestive. Should be an interesting night.
If you watch this long enough, you may start to feel a little sick. Other possible titles included Bendy Woman, Insect Woman, Cartilage Woman, and Scary Woman. (Found via boingboing)
I'm sorry, was it just a day or so ago when I saw before me an entire weekend looming of hour after hour and minute after minute and second after second of nothing to do? Well, it's most of the way through Monday now, and I haven't done almost anything that I wanted to get done! In fact, the majority of the things I've done, I've done today. And there is still much more to do. I would like to vaccuum before S&M get here, and I need to make up their bed. Flatmate D graciously volunteered his bed for my guests, and stripped it before he left, so I need to make it up. I did one load of laundry and have at least one more if not two more to do. I did manage to cook these funky breakfast pizza things that I've been meaning to make ever since seeing the recipe and it was mmm mmm good.
Had a brief IM with tlsd who is not a happy bunny stuck in Cornwall. I wish she wasn't staying through New Years, as I think she'd have more fun hanging out here with me and my friends and S whenever she gets back from wherever her and C went. Maybe next year....
Meanwhile it's been raining somewhat here on and off all day. I need to take a bunch of trash out. I should do that work that I brought home to do- of course I could always do that on the bank holiday before going back, now that would be more my style and cutting it awfully close.
I'm starting to contemplate a haircut again, seriously. It's been over six months and it's overdue. My hair is starting to get long and scragly and I can't do anything with it. I hate that phase.
Ugh. My life is really fucking dull at the moment. See, I knew I'd get to the point of really looking forward to S&M's arrival. Kick ass.
"And this song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme"
It occurs to me that I've spent huge portions of my life alone. And I don't really mind being alone. The thought that everyone else is off to see family or spend time with other stranded friends is like a curiosity to me. I don't have a memory of holiday meals and santa clause, of trees and stockings, of strings of lights and carols. Traditionally, particularly in New York, Christmas is a time for Jews to get some Chinese take-out and go see a movie. I'm not sure any of the take-away places will be open here, so I've stocked up my fridge just in case. And I am really not sure (and and in fact think not) that the movie theaters will be open Christmas day, or Boxing day for that matter.
There isn't anything good on television so I've turned it off (if you knew me, this would astound you, but you'll have to take my word for it). I have a CD in the stereo. I'm considering doing some cooking and baking. And I'll get through this. I'll actually look forward to S&M's (I love that) arrival on Tuesday as something to do, something different. For now I'm settling into my 'me' space.
In fact next week will be very busy. S&M arrive, and I will need to coordinate with them accordingly. My neighbor is going to paint my hallway, so that's going to be a few days of mess and excitement, but then the last bit of painting will FINALLY be done in my house, which will be fantastic, I'm going to see Mr.Aloof- after the travesty of this week- we've been talking on the phone, and hopefully things are somewhat sorted there, and hopefully I'll also see SP and SA who both return before New Years.
So this down time, this quiet time, this mulling and sulking time, it's okay really. Just get it out of my system. In the peace of my own home. It's good to have periods of reflection. Or periods of nothing. It makes you appreciate the alternative that much more.
"I am out here studying stones..."
Well, I've done fuck all the past few days. Pottering around at work, surfing the web. I feel so bad about this behavior that I have a memory stick with me that I'm going to download work onto and take it home, so that I can accomplish some things over the next couple days perhaps, to make up for all that I have not accomplished the last couple days.
"trying to learn to be less alive..."
Flatmate D left this morning for a two-week stint in the states. And my friends S&M (oh, that's kind of funny, let me relish the moment) don't arrive until Tuesday. This means that from today until then, I am on my own, and retreating from the world.
"using all of my will..."
This holiday apathy has not been helped in the least by the situation with Mr.Aloof who cancelled on me a second night running. I just don't know what to make of that. And really, my way of dealing with it is to slip into not thinking about it at all. Which is fine, because when I leave work today, and enter my empty house, I really don't have to think about anything at all, and I don't plan on it.
"to keep very still..."
Like a sort of Buddhist meditation or something. I will clear my mind of thought. And then, when I am bored with that, and hopefully before my friends arrive, I will pull myself out of it and all will be right with the world. Anyway. I'm off to go sulk now.
"still even on the inside."
Yet another thing to catalogue as disgusting yet freakishly attractive. How much do I want these? (They can be bought from here.)
I am at the moment taking care of my correspondence by writing an email to old friend B, mentioned previously. B and wife C are having a baby after much difficulty in the getting pregnant department, and so I am very happy for them that it all worked out and they can finally complete their American Dream.
So B and C are keeping a blog of their baby-producing, and putting all sorts of interesting tidbits on it to keep their friends and family content with prying into their lives. But it's tricky I guess, balancing your dark side with your family. B wrote me an email saying:
"The post appropriate test we use is, 'will C's grandmother want to read this?' which unfortunately, whittles down our subject range somewhat."
So in honor of B and what he cannot share with the world and also for tlsd whose sister just squeezed out a baby boy, some additional reasons that I want should not have children.
First, this website, given to me by B in the email referred to above, as something that didn't pass the 'appropriate' test. At the moment the current post (and to me one of the more entertaining) is this one, Little Miss B-O-R-I-N-G. I just think I like anything that refers to a baby as 'toting around a lump of flesh'.
And second, how to dress your child is of course a topic of endless fascination. B&C get out some of their humor by posting some rather atrocious baby get-ups on their blog, which are good. But they keep the particularly good ones off, again, I just don't think grandma would approve. Luckily, I am not so bothered with opinion. If I had a child, I would so be dressing them in these:
and of course, if it was a little girl, how could I resist this:
though it's good to be an equal opportunity offender:
I mean, wouldn't it be great if you had twins, one boy and one girl and dressed the girl in the tassel shirt and the boy in the boob man onesie? Oh, I'm sick. I know.... sick! *evilgrin*
Well, as it turns out, I have nothing much of interest to report today, because I was cancelled on last night. Does anyone see a trend? Anyone? You, in the back of the room, even you know the answer, yes?
*sigh*
What I'm pissed off about is that I allowed myself to look forward to the evening. To believe it was going to happen, obviously, this was my first mistake. And of course, it wasn't until eight or so when I got the dreaded text. At least I had passed the time by drinking with office folks at our scarcely populated office holiday drinks. Which was okay. Well, in fact some of it was quite funny as MG made a speech, which is always amusing- and someone has graffitied on the tiny firebox by the bicycle doors, drawing penises on it, also amusing. But really, this amusement could not hold me through being cancelled on.
The excuse this time? That the company Mr.Aloof works for just found out that they lost one of their bigger contracts and it is his job to make three people redundant by, oh, tomorrow. I do not envy this job. I do not envy this situation. Of course part of me wonders why exactly this means we couldn't meet up, though I'm sure there's a good reason. And to give him some slack, he immediately suggested tonight as an alternative.
To which I immediately texted back something snarky along the lines of "Well, let me know tomorrow about tomorrow then." To which he replied more simply and directly, "Just show up, at Petergate, at 8, tomorrow." But see, now it's all a bit ruined. Why? Because I cannot allow myself to look forward to the change. I may never see him again is my current feeling on the matter. Oh the complications of a casual relationship.
And of course, even if I do see him tonight, I will be withdrawn and difficult. Because I can't think of any other way to be. Being irritated does not make me want to submit to someone. Oh. I don't know. Probably it will blow over by then. But I will at least stick by withdrawn. I cannot let myself get at all attached to someone who lets me down, oh no.
But anyway, that's not really how our relationship is defined, so, as I keep saying to myself in my head, I shouldn't be doing it anyway.
In other news, TL has offered to come over to my flat after work today (yes, going to have fun working this one out with meeting up with Mr.Aloof by 8 *gr*) and hang the light fixture in my lounge. I've only had it over a year now. But I don't like messing with electricity. Hopefully he can leave here at 5:30 and hopefully it won't take more than an hour and a half. Wouldn't that be novel? To have my lounge fixture finally hung. I guess that's one good thing about today.
In the meantime, no more word from tlsd about her sisters impending baby bursting. I read about it on her blog, but she's in dodgy phone reception area, so I'm not even going to get texts off her. Which is probably fine because she's all settled and occupied with her family stuff anyway.
My boss got this one in. Apparently T who works in our office used to work someplace where they shared office space with these people. Must I say it again? Architects have too much time on their hands sometime. Oh, and I love it. (You can click on the image to see a larger version for the visually impaired.)
Really, what's the point of the week of work before xmas? Everyone is leaving- there isn't much to do. But if you don't have holiday time left, you are expected to come in anyway and just sit around. Thank god for the internet.
In reality I have some work to do today, which is the same work I had to do yesterday. The thing is, it's so mind-numbingly boring that I just can't bring myself to do it. I suppose I should just get one with it, and get it done, but I know I will eventually, so why start early?
I have my blue bag with me today, and as C and T and S all know, the blue bag either means I'm not going home tonight, or I wasn't home last night. In this case, it means I'm not going home tonight. I'm off to Mr.Aloof's and for what will likely be a rather involved and probably painful come-uppance. *laugh* Should be much fun and am looking forward to it! Perhaps I will report on events tomorrow, if it warrants reporting.
In other news, I am having problems with my wireless modem at home. Have not been able to set it up properly and this is pissing me off. I am someone who has no problems using technology, but I don't actually want to know how it works- I just expect it to work when I need to use it. Setting up home networks and all this other bullshit is just beyond my patience or interest level, and it's particularly frustrating when it's just not working properly.
Of course I can also entertain myself with this tremendously fun site. I keep thinking I've done something good until I look at the gallery. Sort of like when Bombay Sapphire had that design your own martini glass thing going on.
Oh it's so terrible I'm so fucking bored!!!! I should do my work, I should do my work, I should do my work. Think that's going to work? *smirk*
My mom just called me at work to let me know I passed both of my exams!!!! Yay me!! Of course the phone conversation went like this:
"You must be calling because you got my exam results." as I had just spoken to her yesterday.
"Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?"
My mind raced. I had been checking Prometric daily and had no indication I'd failed. Shit. Here was the slap in the face I had not been looking forward to. "Give me the bad news."
"Okay. Well.... there is no bad news! You passed both exams!"
Normally, my mother isn't so on the ball with snarky humor. Big points to the mamacita for that one. She got me.
I'm evil and I love this holiday card that I found from the uploaded images at Archinect. Stupid architects have waaaaaaaay too much time on their hands.
I stayed up too late last night setting up my home wireless network. I don't know how I've reached a point in my life where I stay up late. I used to never stay up late. I would just get tired and go to sleep. Now, I push myself past being tired and suffer the next day. Glutton for punishment I guess, like that was unexpected.
Last night tlsd came over for dinner and Alias watching. We have finally reached the end of Season 2- and of course it ends with a big change of events, making you eager to watch the next season. Tlsd will be pleased, as this was the last part of the show that I watched in the states, and Season 3 will be as new for me as it is for her. I also made us a dinner of home cooked Indian food which turned out okay, but I messed up the rice somehow which didn't please me at all. Still, it was good, so... I guess that was alright. Tomorrow tlsd leaves for the family in Cornwall, leaving me all alone in big old London. That biznatch.
So tomorrow, Thursday, and possibly Friday, I have plans with Mr.Aloof. Still feeling the pressure of my insecurities I said to him yesterday that he would get sick of me. He said no, and I asked why not, and he said that I would be spending some portion of the time locked away. Well, that's one way of dealing with it I guess. And deal with me he will do, as insecurity tends to lead me down a prickly path to being overly snarky. And I've been taunting him quite a bit. I'm sure I'll regret this.... about ten minutes before I show up at his place! For now though, I just keep digging that hole just a little bit deeper....
Not much else to tell these days. Even though X has returned to the world of blogging, he's been slow. Tlsd hasn't done a blog in ages. The three Nerve photo-bloggers have been somewhat slow to post, or so it seems. My friends B&C have posted stuff, but I've read it already. The internets are failing me for entertainment value.
My god. I may have to like, do work, or something.
Some people would see something like this and look away. I on the other hand, feel the need to follow all the links and read through thoroughly. How weird. You'll have to follow the link yourself to see why this book is disturbing.
I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate my flatmate D, who doesn't read this blog, on pulling last night. Having come downstairs this morning to find a nice pair of boots, a fake fur jacket and a purple scarf placed all neatly on or by one of the lounge chairs.... He was really looking forward to his date with a friend of a friend. I guess it went well! If I was polite, I'd make myself scarce this morning- like go to Tesco's or something. Which although I need to do, I'd have to get dressed to do. And frankly,that just seems like too much effort. *smirk*
Cheers D!
Most people who know me very well, know that once you get past my rather open and in-your-face sort of attitude, I am actually fairly insecure. I've spent lots of time trying to overcome many of my younger insecurities, however, while I have made progress, progress sometimes only involves acceptance of what I see as undeniable flaws, and not the actual removal of seeing them as such.
And so it all gets a bit messy when it comes to me and relationships. Perhaps one of the reasons I have been so easy going about my relationship with Mr.Aloof is that there has been enough of a distance and separation to allow me to keep my insecurities relatively suppressed. Fuck, we don't even call each other by our real names. He is the only person who thinks of me as literally 'K' and not my full name. And for him, early when we met, as a joke, I called him a name I made up, since he uses two (one for what he sees as his day to day persona and another for what he sees as his dominant persona) and I told him I preferred one, so I would call him by the one I chose. The only time I call him by name is when making reference to him to my friends, but that's for their benefit, not how I think of him in my head.
Anyway, as referenced by my last post, things have been changing. Mainly, that we just saw each other three times this week, which included two nights in a row, and for the first time, this morning, included daytime which was also for the first time, weekend time. In ten months, we have never spent so much time together, nor had "free day time" for lack of a better way to think about it. This probably wouldn't have meant anything, but as I said last time, conversations have been happening and things are slowly shifting and so I find I have become insecure.
Recently I made Mr.Aloof aware that I own a corset. It was somewhat on a whim, and somewhat to see what he would do. I mean, I knew what he was likely to do, and I probably even knew that it would stir up my feelings about self-image and such, so for the life of me, I can't think of why I actually sent him the blurry photo of me wearing the corset when he asked me for a photograph. But I did. And he of course told me to bring it- for Thursday night, but as it turns out, I did not wear it for him until last night.
To his credit, when he found me, standing next to the door against the wall in the loft space, not wanting to look him in the eye, feeling somewhat foolish, and particularly unattractive, he ran his hands along my laced body in obvious appreciation and said that he should make me dress for him more often. I think I tried to sink further into the floor or the wall at that point, when he forced me to look at him, and he kissed me and said softly in my ear, "You are beautiful, K." Which is all the right thing to do of course and I've gotten to the point where I can at least allow that he may have seen me as beautiful, but he saw something I don't. It did help though, and I became slightly more relaxed, and our evening was underway.
In general, it was a more relaxed sort of evening for us. While there was a blindfold, and obviously the corset- which is, in it's own way restrictive, there was no pain or additional humiliation. More slow, sensual- gentle even.
And in the spirit of trying to not be so negative, let me counter my description of one ongoing insecurity with progress on another, also related.
I have written before, some comments about insecurities in regards to oral sex. The giving of, not receiving- have never had issues there. But in the giving, I have always felt inadequate- honestly not really having enough experience in the matter. You just reach an age where you start to think that people will have expectations of your knowledge and ability and start to feel worse and worse about your lack thereof, or, well, I do at least.
So last night there was also oral sex. The first time, after I had been the subject of some prolonged and leisurely attentions, I was silently directed, while blindfolded, to the task. And I was pleased to make a mental note, that it didn't seem quite as intimidating as it has in the past, still, while it went on for some time, he eventually pulled away from me- and we went on to other things for a while.
Eventually we ended up in bed, and for some reason I felt more confident, or perhaps, more outgoing than I usually do. And after some horizontal touching and kissing and stroking, I decided to continue my earlier oral explorations. Following on the earlier part of the evening, I was finding that I was relaxed enough to do what I was doing, and instead of feeling so overwhelmingly insecure and self-conscious, was able to note that certain things I did generated certain desirable responses. So I continued what I was doing, and this time he didn't stop me. And so, for the first time- not just with him, but with anyone actually, my oral attentions resulted in... completion.
I guess that's one insecurity I can finally start putting behind me.
First, let me put a reminder to myself here that I need to take a photo of the Benalyn sachets advertisement and explain why it's disgustingly funny. I just saw one again today, and it's driving me nuts I can't find an online version to post and comment upon. All I have to say is, why Benalyn thought that something that looked like swarming butt plugs was a good way to sell cough medicine was beyond me.
On to the topic at hand however. Is what is going on with Mr.Aloof. Having just spent the second night this week at his. Having been shown pictures of him and his kids. And with plans made to see him tonight and go out to Borough Market tomorrow.
We met ten months ago, and things have progressed from there. However, I do not think of him or call him my 'boyfriend' (though I have done, on occasion, to avoid this lengthy description). I consider him 'the guy that I am seeing'. A subtle difference perhaps, but a difference nonetheless. I do not imagine he thinks of me as his 'girlfriend' in fact, I do not know what he thinks of me at all. But this is changing.
We have had breaks of six weeks at a time, five weeks, four weeks, three weeks is not uncommon. But this too, seems to be changing.
We have been having saying things that are tickling around the edges of conversations, but agreeing this is not the time to have them yet. So to me, this means, nothing has changed. But perhaps things are changing. I don't know. I don't think I want to know. I'm kind of like that.
Last night was fun. I have been taunting Mr.Aloof with the premise that I wanted to find out of he was ticklish- to which he replied if I even tried to find out there would be "severe consequences". To drive the point home, he went about demonstrating that he is physically stronger than I am and wanted me to acknowledge it. Which of course, I didn't. Which of course only made him demonstrate further which I believe at one point had him pinning me not only against the wall, but up the wall as well, as in, my feet were not on the ground. Damn I'm stubborn. And damn, he's strong. Not that I'd tell him that though.
There was rope. There was a blindfold. There was the whip and a stick. A bowl of water to drink on the floor. There was more rope. There was rough handling. Teasing. Hair pulling. Heat coming off skin. Touching. Kissing. Cuddling. Sleeping. Wake-up sex. Orgasms. An amazing full moon.
It was funny, he woke me roughly, and I thought it was for sex, but he dragged me to sitting and pointed my head at the window. I was confused momentarily until I saw the moon. It was cool because I'd been talking about it all day. And of course, I rather liked the somewhat unique way it was shown to me, which made it all the cooler.
Anyway, I'm being distracted by distracting memories of my evening, but the point is, my relationship with Mr.Aloof may be changing. It's hard to say. I guess I'll have to wait and see.
I am currently debating the benefits of not having fun, but catching up on sleep and improving health over having fun. Before discussion gets very far, I will state that I am going to choose having fun, even if I keel over dead from it.
This week is killing me. It all started with the late return from New York. My Sunday never existed, and it was straight into Monday, which was straight into staying the night with Mr.Aloof after an evening consultation which was then straight back to work, then to T's for some xmas party dressing help, then straight to mine to get dressed for the xmas party which meant I missed going to S's place and instead met T, S, and C at the party itself where I stayed until one in the morning and it was home to sleep for a bit before going straight to work, and then it was straight to Brixton for the David Grey concert and I got home last night at just past eleven but stupidly stayed up until one and then had a really hard time falling asleep and odd dreams and kept waking up, and it was straight to work this morning.
Now, I'm supposed to go to Mr.Aloof's again after another consultation this evening, and a birthday party for M tomorrow with S and Mr.Aloof is asking if I can come over after that as well....
What's a girl to do?
I want to believe I can do everything..... even if it kills me. Stubborn....
Welcome to my Tuesday at work. I was not able to write on Sunday when I got home, because I got home five hours later than anticipated. Five hours you ask? Why yes, five hours, let me elaborate.
My flight was supposed to leave New York at 11:30pm. And it was a full flight. I was already feeling anxious so decided to pop two Xanax and get myself to sleep as soon as possible. So I got myself seated and sorted and we left probably thirty minutes late, no big deal. I was out cold. Then, around an hour and a half into the flight, when you stop following the edge of Canada and shoot over the Atlantic, the captain came on.
"I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen, but it seems our satellite radio is out. Also, our backup satellite radio is out. Now, our ground radio is working just fine, but we don't have any satellite. Unfortunately, we are required to have satellite radio to cross the Atlantic and you're not allowed to go without it. So I'm afraid we're going to head back to New York where there's another plane we can use. We'll have to switch planes and head back out. I'm very sorry, but there isn't anything else we can do."
Well, as it turns out, we ended up switching planes in Boston which probably saved all of fifteen whole minutes or something. I don't remember very much of it, seeing as how I was in a drug induced stupor. But the short version is, I didn't get into Heathrow until 4:00pm so I didn't get home until 7:something. Ate something, watched some television, and passed out in bed.
Went to work yesterday and had some emailing with Mr.Aloof, some preparation for a consultation I had in the evening, then I met up with Mr.Aloof afterwards.
Had some good fun with Mr.Aloof. Met up at a bar and had a drink and chat, then went back to his and hung around upstairs. He set the mood for the evening by reading to me from one of his erotic novels while we were curled up on the couch. Not too much play, though I do have some nasty marks from his whip- as he used it for punishment as opposed to pleasure, which meant he started sharp and hard without a warm-up, which left marks, and of course, stung. Those who know me I'm sure can't imagine that I could do anything to warrant a punishment, me, being ever so kind and thoughtful and respectful and perfect *snicker*. But like I said, it was all short. He did wake me up again for sex at some point in the night. Still highly fond of this activity. Going from sleepy languor to sex... I'm not sure why it's so appealing, but I do really really really enjoy it.
We got to sleep a whole extra thirty minutes, so we didn't leave until just after eight. And now I find I am at work again. Tonight is the office Xmas party which should be fun though I'd really like to go home and sleep and unpack and stuff. I'll snap out of it by lunch I hope. I probably have big circles under my eyes.
I think however, it's worth it.
Well, a week in New York done and dusted. Only my last supper left and the overnight flight. My zen is charged, my xanax is primed. My bags are packed of course. I made good use of my half packed suitcase and rucksack packed inside, though my rucksack could be fuller, I feel like I am bringing back pirates booty. My purchases on this trip have included:
- A puffy green DKNY jacket
- Two satin quilted lightweight jacket things one in red and one in brown
- Three pairs of jeans
- Yet another brown skirt (but it's so pretty!)
- A fleece top that I'm wearing on the plane actually
- A pair of green pants
- A fleece bag as a gift for C in my office
- Two sets of sheets for my American sized bed
- A duvet cover for my American sized duvets
- Cedar
- Socks
- A couple different pairs of funky tights
- Dayquil and Nyquil liquicaps
- Shampoo and conditioner
- A big bottle of advil for T
- A package of nutterbutters for T
- Astroglide
- Teeth whitening stuff
- Nail clippers
- An umbrella
- Lipstick
- Other makeup stuff
And probably a couple other things as well. It's great. Though I'm not looking forward to dragging my suitcases home. I think I'll take the long way to Manor House and then the bus back to mine, at least that way I only have one transfer to make.
Still no word on the exams. I hate this waiting, I just want to know so I can move on.
Busy week ahead. David Grey concert, office Xmas party, M's b-day party, and two evenings in Brixton which are also supposedly two evenings with Mr.Aloof. It's madness I say, pure madness.
Now all I have to do is make it through this flight okay..... *tremble* 
So last night with C was lots of fun. I got to see her studio apartment which is only 100 square feet smaller than my two bedroom flat, so not so tiny. I wish I could remember more of what we talked about, but soon upon arriving C says to me, 'Want to smoke?' and so all of the sudden we found ourselves in her bathroom taking tokes. 'This is just like high school', I said, 'where we would always smoke in my bathroom.' and we laughed and laughed. Well, and I coughed. And oh my god I was so fucking high. On only three hits. It was so.... nice. The only thing that freaked me out was the noise her radiators made and the fact I could see the iron kept making me think the iron was on. Somehow we got ourselves to a restaurant and I had a beautiful sushi bowl for dinner. I would have liked to have taken a photo to send to T and woken her up with a sushi text, but I was too far gone to think I could try to manipulate my camera and send a text, so I let the moment pass. It's funny in a way, because I can't really remember all we talked about, I just know that it was a really good evening and I was happy and laughing and it was good to catch up. 
Pretty thought, I know. But why won't my period fucking end??? I am so sick of bleeding and tampons. I'm over it already, give me my blood free days.
Anyway.
The exams are over. No results yet, obviously, and I'm nervously waiting. The second exam was better than I thought it was going to be, which will only make it that much more painful when I fail. If it had seemed difficult and impossible, at least I'd be better prepared, now I actually think there's hope. How fucking stupid. Of course there's no hope! I'm not going to pass either exam probably, and should really start getting used to that and stop hoping. Hoping is bad.
Got a fun new jacket as retail therapy which helps. Going to see my friend C tonight and A tomorrow and Saturday as well. Then it's back to London.
Interesting email exchanges with Mr.Aloof. Developments of sorts afoot, perhaps. Perhaps not.
Online chat with T, but now that her friend M is in town, she will be better occupied and forget all about me of course.
Saw the movie 'The Squid and the Whale' today. It was pretty good, but not a good movie to go see with my mother. But we didn't talk about it afterwards, so that was probably a good thing.
Gotta run to meet C now. 
When I get back to London I am going to fix the text on all these blogs, and run a spell-check on them. And add the links that I want. Fuck. I hate this fucking mac. I want my PC, and I want it now. If my mom had wireless, I would have considered bringing it.
But I left the heavy things behind, including my Allen book, which I should have taken to use to study for my test on Wednesday which I am going to fail. Fail, fail, fail, fail, fail. I've become rather hyper in preparation for failure. And because the one test I thought I could manage is over (and I think I managed okay, but say ing that, I'll probably FAIL).
This Wednesday test though, I'm fucked. Fucked hard and dry. It's going to be ugly. I suppose it's good practice or something. And there is the slim chance I magically pass, but lets be honest here in blogland, this exam, I will fail.
And so I will study tomorrow, but I have already written it off and am thinking of other things...
Madness back in London. Which can be read about in other places. Not quite sure what to make of that. But then, T and I are not very alike in many ways and probably both make decisions frequently that the other person can't quite fathom. Which is fine. We also have enough in common that the things we don't become interesting points of conversation and discussion, where we each have very different perspectives to bring to the table which is also good.
An email from Mr.Aloof who is busy, because this is his busy month with work and he has life issues to deal with. Still, an email is better than silence, so that was nice.
Allergic to the cats, my nose has been running like a faucet. No neti pot can save me now.
Sushi for lunch.
Snow on the ground.
Shopping on Thursday, or possibly Wednesday after my exam.
A flight on Saturday I'm not thinking about at all.
My clock is not adjusted yet. It's just past ten and I'm exhausted. At least the heat is working now. 
We are now at T minus 24 hours. Hold on to your seats boys and girls, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Yesterday we determined that the heating is not working so well here at my mother's house. In fact, it really wasn't on or doing very much at all. This was bad. The only good thing is that being on the second floor of a three floor co-op, that is in the middle of the block, we are neatly sandwiched on all the long sides by other people who presumably have heat. This is managing to keep my mom's place at a balmy 66 degrees or so which is cold by my standards, and most of my friends will readily tell you, I like to keep my home cold.
This morning I woke up to find snow outside. This was pleasant. I love real snow. Of course, I didn't bring any boots or clothes that are particularly snow appropriate. It's so much colder here than in London. I've acclimated the wrong way. I feel very cold now. This is bad. But the snow- I love the snow. So that's okay .
The other think I woke up to this morning was a hideous ass pimple. I couldn't figure out what was hurting me on my bottom so in the shower as I was sudsing up I found the offending bump. It's huge! And it hurts. How the fuck did that get there? I am not at all impressed with the ass pimple, that's for sure. And it better go away soon.
Today we are having bagel brunch with some random cousins of mine that I don't know. I guess it's good to meet up with family. I don't normally feel very connected to mine. Speaking of family , I should also be chatting to my dad today. But back to the brunch- a real bagel brunch with lox and cream cheese and fruit salad and stuff. I had a fresh bagel yesterday. And some of a black and white cookie. No sushi yet though, my mother has been denying me, but it's coming, oh yes, it's coming. 
This will be a picture-less blog as I am not going to be fussed trying to figure out how to open another window on this Mac and find an image. This will also not be a spell-checked blog because apparently on the Mac, that's not an option. God how I hate these stupid f ucking machines.
But lets not be TOO hasty, it is after all what is enabling me to write, live from New York!
The flight was okay. I was passed out for most of it and very angry at the man sitting next to me who would not turn off his crackberry even when they said to turn off all electronic devices. I think I was snoring while passed out, and you know what, I really fucking hope so. Tosser. If I'd not been all drugged up, I would have said something to him, or reported him to the flight attendants. But the plane didn't crash, so that was okay .
Found my mom no problem and we drove on home. Lugged my heavy suitcase upstairs and proceeded to offload two bottles of wine and a huge block of cheese as well as two bottles of winter Pimms #3 which I had at the duty free bar which I could just so easily have again. The latter items being bought at duty free, the first two bottles of wine being bought in Siena when S and I went for N's wedding.
So now it is Sunday, late morning, and I'm going to get off this addictive machine and do some hard core studying. We are at T minus 46 hours and counting. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! 
So last full day of work before a half day of work before my flight. Last night was the concert, and it was pretty good. Not the best concert I've ever been to, but enjoyable and fun. Except for the crazy Chinese mosh girl and the guy with the parka.
Waiting in between the second opening band and Franz I was struck intensely by panic. That I my plane will crash. That I will be dead tomorrow. This was quickly followed by an imaginary sequence of rapid fire events. That for T and D, their last memory of me would be there, at the concert. That perhaps they would try to tell other people that at least I my last days were spent having fun. Who would know which holiday gift was for whom when they arrived at my office? Who would tell Mr.Aloof? In fact, who would tell most of my diaspora of friends? Someone would have to clean out my desk at work. My home. My parents would be sad. And I felt this sickness, through the core of my being. The urge to get out of where I was, get away, run from the future that was suddenly so clear. Because I don't want these things. I don't want to die.
And then it passed. It was acute and intense and strange when it hit. I know it's the underlying stress I have all the time, but it's not normal for it to materialize so clearly, before a flight, during my regular life.
Anyway. This morning I managed to do some of my packing, and was also not-so-pleasantly surprised by the arrival of my period. Like I've needed any additional crazy or things going on in my head this past week. I was less than thrilled.
Tonight is the design show which I'm really looking forward to, and another opportunity for Mr.Aloof to stand me up. The thing is, I know he wants to see me, and he knows I want to see him, but he's just too fucking busy. I didn't hear a word from him yesterday. And I sent him a text late last night and no word yet today. Which means I'm not going to see him later on. Which is only frustrating because for some reason he won't just tell me "I'm too busy and I can't see you.", but instead gives me the hope that we can meet and then pulls a runner. Which is really, not a good way to behave.
Anyway. I really don't want to die on Friday, or the following Saturday/Sunday. So I'm sure I'll be back again soon to my regular quirky blogging. And it won't be until February and my as-of-yet unconfirmed trip with S that I'll have to deal with the phobia again.
I love this advertisement. I think it's fucking brilliant. 250,000 bouncy balls tumbling down a San Francisco street. Genius! I love the imagery, and I love the music that goes with it. I love it on my television, and I loved it when I saw it on the big screen before my movie this past weekend. I love it, I love it, I love it. And so it deserved to be mentioned here.
Well, as it turned out, I was stood up for the evening by Mr.Aloof. Not that it came as a very big surprise. Having not heard a peep from him post-lunch, it didn't bode well. And by the time I went home at six with no word, it was looking even worse. This isn't the first time something similar had happened, so I wasn't completely unprepared, but I was very unhappy. If I'd known he wasn't going to show, I could have watched Alias with T. Tonight was the only free night I had left.
Sort of.
And so my complications begin. Tomorrow night is the concert. And there is no way that there will be any time to meet up in combination with the concert. So then there is Thursday. And I am going with T and S to the design show. But the design show ends at nine. So it's completely possible to meet up with Mr.Aloof after nine. Except that T and S may get mad at my split commitment.
It's a hassle though- trying to fit everyone in and make everyone happy. T and S would probably say that I should not meet Mr.Aloof because he had his chance at an evening and this is their evening. Except they are forgetting that if I do that, I am also punishing myself, because I want to see him. And I want to see them too, and I wouldn't not go to the design show, or leave early, but I want to be able to do both without people getting mad at me. Except I don't see that happening.
On the plus side, after being irritated and stood up this evening I actually got a phone call from Mr.Aloof at ten. Saying he'd been out of the city, just returned to the office. We never talk on the phone. And he said he was sorry, which is also not a common occurrence. And he asked about my Wednesday and Thursday plans and if there was any way he could come north to see me, because he really wanted to see me before I left. And he's never said that either. And I really want to see him too.
I have enough stress right now, don't I? Why do these complications have to add to it?
What better way to blow off steam than to go see Mr.Aloof who happens to be in a somewhat mean mood today? I made a slip at lunch talking to T and S- T who knows and S who doesn't. I said Mr.Aloof said he was feeling mean today as an excuse for an email miscommunication that occurred. S was appalled that he would say he was in a mean mood. T wisely kept her mouth shut. She didn't even give it away through funny glances, I was impressed.
Anway, Mr.Aloof tonight, Franz Ferdinand tomorrow, East London Design show Thursday, and plane hell on Friday.
Studying? What's that?
I haven't felt the urge to post much these days. There is something I wanted to post, but I promptly forgot it, so that's put me off. The other thing that's kept me away is simply the amount of stress I have bubbling inside of me.
Each person deals with stress in their own different way, though I assume there are some general rules of thumb that everyone falls into one way or another. My tactic for stress is avoidance. The more stressed I become, the more lethargic and detached I become. The more uninterested. The harder to engage.
This is how I feel now. My life to me feels like a movie projector clacking in the background as images of people and locations, conversations, meals, traffic- they all pass in a sickening contorted fashion. A maelstrom around me as I sit in the dark theater, buffered and still.
I have not prepared enough for these exams I'm going to take. This is a fact. It is not debatable. I may not pass both exams. I may not even pass one exam. Yet I am locked in this course, I will take them both, and suffer the outcome.
And the phobia. I don't spend my time thinking about the flights. In fact I try very hard not to. But giving time to think about them or not, they are still coming. I will get on the plane, it will lift into the air. There will probably be some turbulence. I will be frightened. I will face my mortality. Again. And the plane will land and I will feel stupid and tired and stressed about the exams and annoyed with my mother and allergic to the cats.
This is why I have not been posting. I do not feel that I have anything productive to say.
My skin is starting to break out. It is in part due to the cold weather, but more due to my two exams and upcoming flights, I'm sure. I can start to feel it now, an underlying tension that is punctuating everything. It's like my insides are clenching slightly, all the time.
There is far too much to do before my flight on Friday. Too much studying that I won't be able to fit in. Too much irritation of my skin and I am wondering just how bad it's going to get.
People are leaving and I am not sure I will be able to see them all as I would like before they go. And that makes me sad.
Of course all I want to do is not think about everything I need to do, all my obligations and responsibilities, and just vegetate in front of the television, of course making it all much worse.
Although I feel stressed and overwhelmed, things to look forward to this week:
Wednesday- Franz Ferdinand concert with D and T, weyhey!!
Thursday - The East London Design Show, yippee!!
(this is so on my list to buy- I love him)
There are some things about this country that I don't quite find endearing. Centigrade is one example. And the reporting of the weather a closely linked second. This morning the radio said:
"And now for the quick weather. Today it's going to be cold."
And then the other presenter added, "And snowy."
That was the weather.
W... T... F.
(And it didn't even snow.)
I wouldn't suggest it is normally a very good idea to taunt your dominant partner unless you are prepared for the consequences. After the ongoing discussion of security of restraints and the ability to get free, I emailed something right before I left for the consultation along the lines of, "so what exactly would happen if i were to slip my bonds while detained and come find you?"
Like that was going to happen.
I arrived at the warehouse early, my consultation getting out slightly early, followed by excellent bus luck. My journey only took 30 minutes. I saw Mr.Aloof outside, getting something out of his truck I think, or perhaps putting something in. Convenient. We went inside and headed towards the kitchen. I saw through, into one of the workspaces an arrangement draped in fabric. A flat area with a low box towards one edge. I mentally noted it without stopping and went straight to the kitchen. We had some tea and talked. Then he took me by the hand but instead of bringing me to the third floor as is normal to the start of play, instead brought me to the fourth where we sat on the couch and gabbed some more.
I was secretly trying to see if I could deter him from his course. Not that I didn't want to play, but our time does tend to be limited, and I just want to be with him for a bit. But he was either onto me, or determined enough that my distractions didn't matter, or, more likely, felt the same and indulged the sitting and chatting and passing of time because he wanted it to. And it was nice. But eventually he got up, took my hand firmly, and led me down to the third floor. Seating me on the chairs outside the toilets he disappeared into the main room and came back with a black t-shirt. "Just this.", he whispered in my ear, holding me in such a way that we were close but I could not kiss him, and then he left.
I used the toilet and stripped down. The t-shirt didn't quite cover anything. It was cold, since Mr.Aloof had been away five days, the heating in the warehouse had been off. I made my way back upstairs where I knew the radiators were on, went by one and crouched down leaning against it. If I was going to be detained in the cold, I wanted to be as warm as possible to start. He eventually appeared, took note of me, and wandered past. Did something down at the other end of the loft for a bit, then came back and dragged me out of the eave and away from the warmth of the radiator. I was quickly blindfolded and taken back to the third floor, this time via the elevator.
Our games have progressed now so that when led blind, Mr.Aloof is no longer gentle. He rushes me, and pushes- heightening the sensation of danger and imbalance. It's nerve rattling, and fantastic. Pulling my arms behind my back, he began a rope tie. This one was much tighter than previously. But he wasn't done there. The rope crossed over my arms, around my body, the looped under my arms, holding it down and in place. Additional rope crossed my shoulders, all returning to the back, where my wrists were connected to the chest ropes, the tied ends well above the reach of my hands, closer to my neck. There was no worming out of this one. Using the twined rope down the center of my back like a handle, he directed me away again, dragging me backwards this time. I knew we would be heading to the fabric sculpture I'd seen upon entering, and so we did. My bare toes hit the edge of it along the cold concrete. "Kneel.", he said, holding the harness and pulling/guiding me down. The lower bit I'd seen before was some sort of foam board. Comfortable enough to kneel on. He pushed me forward until my thighs hit the box I'd seen and then pushed me down bent over it. It was also covered on top by some sort of solid foam or padding, not uncomfortable, but he pulled me back to keeling. I heard and felt some shifting about and he pushed me down again. He must have removed half of whatever was stacked there. Bound as I was, bent as low forward as I was, it would be a struggle to raise myself back to kneeling on my own.
He pulled me up again. Here follows a length of time punctuated by being moved about, from sitting on the box, to sitting on the palette portion, to pushed over the box. Early in the events, with the ball gag in place, pushed over the box, he took me that way. Took being the correct terminology, I could scarcely move. He used the harness to pull me towards him. It was completely controlling. It was fantastic.
But that was not the point of the evening, Mr.Aloof never actually left the room. Instead, I was moved to the various positions, bent this way and that, and measured with a tape measure. I could hear lumber being shifted, being cut, being drilled. He was making something, but what?
After some time, he stood me up and asked me if I wanted to see. He removed the blindfold and another period of time commenced. He was building a container. It didn't look very big. Taking a break, his attention turned back to me. He undid a portion of the rope, leaving my hands locked behind me. Bringing me to the raised box, he had me lie on it fully, with my chin off the end, looking down at the floor. Then he deftly pulled my feet up and put me into a hogtie, and went back to work.
Unfortunately, when messing with the ropes, it constricted the already tight wrist restraints, and I started to lose circulation. I wiggled and flexed my fingers as he worked, which helped a little, but the bond had become too tight. I waited until what looked like a good stopping point in his box building and made noise to get his attention from behind the gag. He quickly undid the rope and gag and left me on the lower palette, returning to the box as I wiggled blood back to my fingers.
With two sides off the box, he arranged one of the fabric pieces at the bottom and pulled me to the box. Pushing me into it, he slid the back panel in, and then pushed the lid on top of me. The box was not quite big enough to sit upright, and not quite wide enough to turn without difficulty. Certainly not long enough to lie down. But shift around I did, and managed to kick out the back board, which dropped the top down on me. He was there in an instant, make sure I wasn't hurt. Put me back to sitting and proceeded to secure the fourth wall to the box and drill a series of air holes along one side. I watched raptly.
When finished he went to the kitchen and brought back some wet rags. "The box needs to be clean before I paint it." he said, handing me the rags. So I started to wipe it down, removing sawdust and particles. There were bits from the airholes being drilled at the bottom and I tried pushing them to one end to get them up, but really the best way was to get in the box. So I did. Finishing, he approached me and took the wet rags, then with a hand on my shoulder pushed me down as he dropped the cloth back in behind me. Down I went and the lid went back on.
At least he didn't turn the lights out.
At some point he opened the lid and tossed in my leather and closed it again. Putting those on inside the box was a challenge, and I didn't even get to the collar before he was removing the lid to come get me. He put the collar on himself, and led me out of the box back to the elevator, up to the loft. Connecting the cuffs with rope, he strung me up to a rafter while he went about locking up the building and getting ready for bed. When he was finished he returned to me, and released me. I took care of some getting ready for bed details myself and joined him in bed.
Of course we didn't go right to sleep... there was some good messing about going on, though no more sex. And then entwined sleep. At some point closer to morning I was once again awoke by hands moving in not-so sleepy directions. And I've decided I rather like being woken up for sex. Oh screw it, I just like sex. But this being woken up for it thing is new to me, and I'm enjoying the novelty. Then more cuddles, more sleep, and an irritating alarm that went off at 6:30 and we were out the door by 7:30.
Of course I have no idea when I'm going to see him again. I'm hoping soon. I'm secretly hoping Friday, but I'm not holding my breath. Before I leave next Friday though. Better be.
Not wishing to offend new readers recently acquired, I feel I must preface this post with a warning. Because there has not been a recent graphic pornalong, you may have been mislead about the entire nature of this blog, or what I write about. I view myself as a person complete. Not wholly one way nor another. And while the majority of my life is spent collecting and commenting on odd or quirky things, a portion of my current life is exploring my sexuality, which I write about frankly here. And not just sexuality, but a bdsm-based sexuality. If this offends you, skip this post. If it really offends you, you can of course, choose to never return.
So, onto the post.
Tonight I am seeing Mr.Aloof. Originally there had been talk of meeting up this weekend. Or at the end of last week. This was all thwarted by some family emergency for which Mr.Aloof had to rush off to Wales to deal with, and did not return until today. Over the weekend, I sent my schedule for the week, seeing as how four out of five days I am traveling south of the river. It just seemed convenient even though it honestly takes me nearly as long to get from where I do the consultation to his as it does from my house to get to his. The London travel '45-minute' rule. Anyway I digress. Yesterday, after little word (read, two texts) in an entire week I got this response to my schedule:
> tuesday night, i've got a consultation from 6:30-8ish
And then you have a detention.
A detention. The last time we met, which I only referenced briefly here, there was a detention. Bdsm play is always a balance of preference. There is no one way to play. The time two weeks before the detention was much more in keeping with my fantasies. If pressed I would suggest that Mr.Aloof is not so much the sadist as I am the masochist. His desires are firmly rooted in objective control. But always, always, there is the power exchange which I find intoxicating.
And so since yesterday's short email, I find I am on edge with anticipation. What devious challenge is in store for me tonight? And will it be stricter than last time? Well, I would argue it must be. I know I did not go into detail, but as I anticipate the night's possibilities, I will use this time to reflect on the past, and on what is yet unsaid.
Last time I saw Mr.Aloof, the last time we played, I ended up naked, alone, and chained to and in a cold dark room on the ground floor of the warehouse. My arms bound behind my back, I had been led forcefully, frighteningly, blindfolded and running, to the room. Still blindfolded I heard the cold chains before I felt them- tightening around my body. When I was secured, he removed the blindfold and I could see the room. Perhaps 4x5 meters. Empty. Dark but lit by a candle on a high shelf I could not see. An electric heater was set low along the nearest wall. A row of high pegs along another held my recently removed robe and a jacket on top of it. There was a small palette on the floor covered in some sort of fabric.
He left me. And it was cold. The concrete floor sapping all the heat from my feet. The chains taking ages to warm against my skin, drawing out additional heat. I could move in an arc dictated by the high point the chain was fastened to, not to the door. Not even to the halfway point in the room. I went to go make friends with the heater. I stood by the heater for what seemed like a long while. Turning to warm each side of my body. Standing on one foot to warm the other. I noticed that the light grew visibly dimmer. I looked up to the shelf and it dimmed again by half. My only light source was about to go out. Evil genius bastard. It went out.
I had used my short time of light to warm up by the heater, not to explore the room as fully as I should have. Now I had no options. I moved over to the palette and inspected it best I could in the dim light of the heater and what came from the crack under the door. If I had examined it beforehand, I might have tried moving it closer to the heater, but I didn't want to mess up the one respite I had from the concrete if something went wrong. I also examined the jacket and robe on the pegs. Again, in light I could have seen how they were attached, tried to get them off the wall. In the dark, the task became impossible. And so I sat and waited on the palette.
Only to discover that through my general moving about I had loosed the wrist restraint. And could in fact take it off. What is one to do? Clearly the spirit of the exercise was not to 'get out' of the restraint. I had also realized somewhat earlier I could have gotten out of the chain had I so desired. So technically, I could have removed all restraints, grabbed the robe and the jacket, and sat comfortably and warmly while I waited. In fact, I could have also checked the door to see if it was actually locked or could I get out. But I did none of these things, though it was my constant thought while waiting. Why? Because it wasn't in the spirit of the game. Although I had not gone out of my way to loosen my bonds, I knew it wasn't the intent. And I have had no clear indication from Mr.Aloof (even under direct questioning) about if such an act would simply be dealt with in play or if it would diminish his experience of the evening. Punishment in play, I have no problems with, but diminishing his enjoyment or experience of the evening, I do.
It was only when he left me the second to last time (he would appear, periodically to check on me, touch me, torment me... and leave) when he took down the robe and threw it on top of me, that I removed the rope from my wrists and the chains from my body. I was at that point, cold. Enduring, but faltering. Curled up on the small palette with the light cotton robe wrapped completely around me, I waited. I had laid out the rope in front of the palette, where he had been kneeling by me, to make it clear it had been removed. But I still did not take down the jacket. I did not leave. The power exchange was in place. When he appeared that second to last time, he noted the rope straight away, and the absence of the chain as well as he ran his hands along my tightly curled form. But made no mention of it. I was relieved- but it prompted me to email him about it afterwards.
An email to which he has not responded. But he has been away. So I called him on it, on an email I sent before plans were made for this evening. Where I mused that I looked forward to a stricter, more rigorous restraint, where such questions about what it means when they fail are no longer an issue.
And so tonight I am to be detained again. And if I had to guess, I would say in a stricter and less forgiving fashion. My mind races to imagine what's in store. What I will endure.
The night can't come fast enough..
Usually I avoid things that cause me distress. Or anger. Or murderous rage. The things we feel the most passionately about are often the things that cause us to get into horrible fights with one another and point guns and pull triggers. Still, it's as hard to live your life unaffected by the plethora of things out there as it is to be at the mercy of all of it.
This week I am spending not one, not two, not even three but four, count them four days in Lambeth doing consultation. First being tonight, I leave in forty-five minutes and it will take me about an hour to get there. Then an hour and a half later, I can get myself all the way back to Hackney. It's hard to have meetings with people who are very disgruntled to hear about how you want to tear their houses down. Even if they don't feel safe in their homes and will complain endlessly about all the problems, they feel better with a known thing over trusting the council to provide them with anything that might be better. Of course this is hard because me and my company are hired by the council to make sure that something good is designed and delivered. This is, in all honesty, the best job I have ever had- in particular in regards to an office that actually cares about the quality of the design. So when the residents yell at me (like they did last Tuesday) about how they're going to get a big pile of shit, it's hard not to take it personally since I don't believe that my day to day job is to provide anyone with a big pile of shit. I believe in what I do, and want to be able to convey that belief to the residents. Of course, I also have doubts about the ability of the council (or in this case the PFI contractor, don't get me started) to deliver the project. But in terms of the design and all the intention going into the project, it's good. Still, next time someone comes and tells me about how they're going to knock my house down, I'll tell you if I'm particularly considerate about it.
Recently my friend B turned me onto this political site. Usually I avoid all things political as it's one of the quickest and surest ways to get me to gnashing my teeth. Luckily, this site is along the lines of my own political affiliation, and also at a discourse level that I also approve of and encourage. Still, politics are a horrible part of modern life that I try to stay as ignorant of as possible (aside from voting, which I do).
So in keeping with that, it pains me somewhat when I come across political things that I do not agree with. As I recently did when coming across someone discussing a pro-Arab opinion on Israel. As I just stated, I try to avoid most discussions of this sort because people's opinions are deeply rooted and you aren't going to change anyone's opinion, you are just going to get angry and upset that someone could believe something that you so completely and totally do not. You will wonder at their sheer and utter stupidity and ignorance while they wonder the same thing about you.
I think I'll go read some email now to kill time before hopping a bus to a train to a bus (no, I'll probably just walk the last leg) and try to ignore the infuriating world that we live in for a bit.
I have been thinking the past couple days about parents. About my parents in particular. About family ties and obligations.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
I think sometimes that I feel lonely or isolated because of my upbringing. Because my parents behaved like children and not parents. Because I have no siblings. Because I learned how to be content on my own, and not to rely on anyone else because inevitably, they let you down.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
I do wonder from time to time what the outcome of my life will be. If I will ever have a family. Do I even want a family? Objectively I want a family. But... maybe I don't. Could I be saddled with the responsibility for another human being when I don't feel that I've finished exploring my own life? I have more than one friend with a recently hatched baby or a baby on the way. And they're happy, and I'm happy for them. Because it's what they want. I just don't know what it is that I want. Sometimes I feel like I will run out of time before I ever figure it out.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
What are 'real parents'? Or 'right parents'? Or even 'good parents'? Who decides that? And who has it? My utopia could be your version of hell and vice versa. Everyone does shitty things in their lives. And everyone is someone else's kid. It all seems rather inevitable. And somewhat tragic.
