topthemonkey: (Default)

I know the monkey had started to (on paper) write an entry, but I'm here in front of a keyboard so I'll have at it.

We're still both poly: she in the "I get romantically involved with other people" (just one person, I feel terribly full with Top and her) sense, and me seemingly in the "I take on, train, mentor, and work with other people" sense. I'm still not 100% happy with all phases of her relationship, but I'm working toward it.

The monkey has another Mistress as well, a cruel one who has also been making demands of me. Her name is Sallie Mae. I refer to her as an abusive spouse, generally. While the monkey is at this point spending her own money (that she had previously given to me) on these debts, it is only a matter of a few months until that runs out. Next month, I think. On top of other debts I'm now paying for her. Top is referring here to the hospital bills incurred after we were run over in late December.

It bothers me that the monkey has a masters, and it's not really being applied. I suppose I see it as a tool: if I had determined that I had the need for an expensive tool, that I'd be certain of its need, and its use before undergoing on purchasing it, knowing full well I'd be paying it off for many years.

Here's the thing
. I didn't have a good enough GPA in undergrad to get into a PhD program in the humanities that was remotely attractive, so I went into the Masters program viewing it as a bridge to a PhD program, to show prospective schools that I was capable of doing grad work. About halfway through my Masters program, I realized that I was rather sure a PhD program, at least at this point in my life, was not right for me. The program I attended was actually geared towards working teachers who wanted more credentials. So, uh, if I got a job teaching I'd start off making more money (in theory) and it would make me more attractive to schools I applied to work at (again, in theory) but (a) I have no teaching certification and (b) with my social anxiety where it is, I don't think it would be wise to enter teaching at this time. Though in my job searches I have found part time English professor openings at community colleges, which I actually think might be a good idea.

I've been pushing her, gently but persistently, to find work. I somehow think she'd do okay as a barista at either Starbucks or the local chain: the time on her feet would probably not be great for her (my back/neck/shoulders are in pain every day lately, made worse by activities like doing the dishes), but it's customer facing, and would give her some experience. Maybe some social comfort. I've also told her to submit an application at the library to become a page. Thusfar, it's been a big problem. It terrifies her. The most I've been able to do at this point is get her to fill out a template job application, so all her info is there for when she fills out others.

We have a bookstore within easy walking distance, where she might do well, too.

The eventual goal here is that she manages to cover her student loans, and put at least 10% away to savings: the rest, as far as I'm concerned, can be "fun money". Comics, dates, road trips with the girlfriend, trips to literary conferences. I have not asked the Top to pay for any of these things in the past 5 months, at least. He has offered on a few occassions to buy me comics, I have expressed hesitance, he has insisted. I handle the living costs.

She told me last night that she really doesn't feel like a "good slave." I don't believe this to be the truth at all. I'm guessing he means that he believes me to be a good slave, not that he disbelieves the validity of my feelings on the matter. I always see room for improvement, but I know she's fighting the good fight against depression and other personal problems. I know it's not easy.

Right now, I've been putting most of the focus, every day, on printing out a list of things I'd like her to do throughout the day. This has really helped. Chores, personal projects, GRE work, grooming. I've forbidden her to get on the internet each morning until she's both eaten and showered (this has been good for me); there's been too many days in the past I've come home to find her still in what she slept in. (At some point, I would love to be able to have software to do this.) On this list I try to put our evening's plans, as well as something I will do for her that day. I find that unnecessary; I mean, letting me know probable evening plans is nice, but so far as doing things for me every day, you already do that, just by being my Master.

She's been back in therapy for a month or so now. It took more than a year of asking to get her to do this. Because I feel guilty about the cost.

She'll be going back to the chiropractor tomorrow. This too took many months of prodding. Because I feel guilty about the cost.

Maybe, slowly, taking care of herself will not be such a hard concept. We're working on it. It's tough because Top didn't know me 5, 10 years ago. He can't see how far I've come, how bad things were at times. Yes, I had a job then, which is a big sign of progress to him. But my mental health state was far, far worse than it is now.

We went through our Netflix queue and tried to delete all the "depressing" movies from it. We've been watching a lot of Miyazaki, and we've been slowly going through Night Court.

I still love her more every day. I have been feeling similarly.

topthemonkey: (Default)

As mentioned in our last entry, the monkey and I are trying to adapt to poly.

I'm hurting about this. I'm feeling jealous and resentful, which, despite being my apparent right, makes me feel really, really unfair. Does a person have a "right" to feel jealous and resentful in poly? I'm not sure.

During some pillow-talk, I told her "I'm not going to give you a contract that says you can see this girl. I can only speak to my feelings now, and to my desires for you: I am not happy, but I can see you are, and that's important." I'm hoping I'll adapt. Then again, during that same pillowtalk, I told her that I also had no bias against this person, unlike a previous relationship I'd stopped the monkey short on, and had to assert benefit of the doubt. I mentioned to her that she's had numerous other friendships with people I loathe, so this is nothing new. I can only think of my friendship with the previous partner you just mentioned.

Put most harshly, my feelings are something along the line of: you can have permission, or you can have me happy with you right now. Pick one. That's also very black and white.

We sat down and found the time to talk about her new girlfriend, perhaps even enough for me to try and mentally arrange things in a way I'm comfortable with, a way that her new girlfriend (who is also dominant of her but not like the Top is, I'm not her slave, which she knows and respects) fits into my own dynamic, which is to say the "divorced parent" analogy. I think this analogy is far too harsh, and minimizes "Daddy'"'s role. Daddy pays child support and she lives with me, mommy cooks better and does better things. "Better things"? It would mean, quite frankly that I would be able to at the very least send an email to her saying "don't forget, the monkey has homework that needs to be done, please make time for this"...or something. (Note that the "mommy" and "daddy" titles are for the benefit of the reader: ageplay is not assumed here, on any party), although I do see the monkey in a somewhat adolescent light at times, I don't see her as inherently capable of taking care of herself, and I don't see her as capable of getting things she needs to done. This hurts me, though I know it's founded on much empirical evidence.

The monkey's expressed that this girl is respectful of our relationship, and has even gone so far as to leave notes for me thanking me...on the monkey. But either she didn't use a permanent enough marker or the monkey showered really, really well, because I wasn't able to see them. Which is a shame. It wasn't permanent, as she thought it was.

Of course, now, as I write this, the monkey is off on the other coast, having sex with someone else. Someone who paid her airfare so she could go out and visit friends. And all she could say to my objections is "you said it was okay." You gave me permission. I asked specifically, can I leave for these dates to go there and stay with this person. You said yes. I gave him the go-ahead to buy the tickets, he spent his money. It no longer involved just me. I made a commitment to another person, and he would not have gotten his money back; also, I think it's really rude to cancel on people at the last minute, particularly when it's a big thing that's planned. Which is just the world's biggest angry button for me. I previously have gotten angry responses when asked if she could get herself off and I said no. I think I responded angrily twice in over two years. I previously have said in frustration "do whatever you want", which meant "okay, let X rape you". (She concedes that I have good empirical evidence against her always being able to make the best relationship choices). "Always" should get more emphasis here I think.

And this time, I said it was okay because I felt guilt about making her cancel her family trip back over the holidays, and because travel is...uncomfortable at best for me (I'm heavy) so this is not something I can really do with her. But as she reminds me, I still said yes.

Yes, I said it was okay a month ago, and I had no idea the headspace or state our relationship would be in now: at a time when I most desired stability and reinforcement, and togetherness, and time to adapt to the new status quo, I get more of the same poly rammed down my throat, and I get to be without her. It's too much, too soon, and it's moving too fast for me. I didn't think I was ramming anything down your throat. I didn't realize these events would coincide.

In a recent conversation, she told me she'd rather have her girlfriend pick her up when she returns than see me immediately. That really hurt. This was based directly on an extremely hurtful private entry the Top had made that I had read that afternoon. 

It's making me question way much more than I'm comfortable with. I wanted to do things with her before she left, but there wasn't the time. I wanted to put her collar back on her, but I'm afraid of hurting her back or causing more problems with airport security.

I'm letting the hurt and the anger and the fear, uncertainty, and doubt shadow the love I know I have for her, and want to show her but can't. I hate this.

topthemonkey: (Default)
I like to have a good, powerful orgasm before making any major decision. Let me explain why.

Long before the monkey and I got together, I had a problem, one that plagued me.
I was a kinky person. Except when I orgasmed.
I enjoyed feelings of both being dominant and submissive. Except post orgasm.
And the ironic thing is, the more powerful the orgasm, the more powerful the post-orgasm-kink-aversion.

I've previously called this "the vanilla flip." What would be hot and intense one moment, as soon as I orgasm, would immediately feel wrong or even disgusting. Pain tolerance would drop, things that were appealing even a few seconds ago would halt, and I'd have a desire to be cleaned up, warm, and normal; wanting to do nothing more than eat and relax, not feeling sadistic but instead feeling gentle and nurturing. And, of course, wanting to go to sleep.

In my submissive senses, I would often tell dominant types that the best way to humiliate me would be to put me in a compromising position (restrained, uncomfortable, about to be marked), then to get me off while doing it, but force me to go through with whatever it was. For this reason, making me "clean up after myself" (that is, swallow what I had just secreted) was an exceptionally strong fantasy of mine, a measure by which I held dominants; after all, they had to have enough of a mental draw to me that even in my most vanilla mindset, I could still do what I was told.

The couple of times in the past I've gotten body modifications for dominant types (for those who care, my nipples have been pierced twice), both times I was ordered not to get myself off until it was done. If allowed to do so beforehand, the idea of enduring that pain for another person wouldn't have appealed to me.

Part of my interest in chastity play, at least when I represented the submissive side of relationships, was because it allowed a partner to keep me in a single frame of mind, and as long as I stayed in that frame of mind it appealed to me, like a magnetic switch that kept itself turned on.

Since becoming involved with the monkey, our life has more or less become a fairly regular dynamic, with me fairly regularly on top. (Uh, like, always? Like that defines our relationship?) I don't go through these changes (what changes are you referring to?) most of the time. I usually don't let her do anything that causes me to feel too submissive, and I've managed to transform my major erogenous zones to be triggering of the mindset of general kink instead of being spots that would lead me to feeling submissive if stimulated.

However, there are still odd elements to our relationship. I wake up feeling both kinky, and aroused. The monkey....does not. When the monkey wakes up, she's usually in a pretty "just want to eat and pee" headspace. Whereas I just want to roll her over and use her. Which, y'know, is your right.

But often, before making a major decision involving the relationship, before bringing in another person or making some change to status or to some major purpose, I like to compare my thoughts on a matter both at my most kinky, and at my least, both when I'm tired, and when I'm awake.
Sometimes if I'm angry, I like to push myself through the various phases and see if I'm still angry throughout all of them.

When I woke up this morning, I poked the monkey to take her meds, and she revealed to me that she had taken them in the early morning; she had stayed up all night. This has been a regular problem recently, and while I haven't been ORDERING her to come to bed, I've been making it clear, I think, that I'm not happy with this behavior (especially considering she wasn't ever happy going to bed without me). Yes, it's been clear, but I've been struggling with some things that have been directly affecting my sleep schedule. I haven't talked to the Top about it because I don't feel I have it adequately sorted out in my head to adequately communicate it. There might be an entry coming from me about this.
I thought for a few minutes, and visualized that I'd wake her up, and sit her down, and give her a piece of paper.


I, the monkey, understand that I have upset my Master by:
  • Staying up all night, repeatedly, to the point where I'm at risk of messing up our schedules.
  • Orgasming without permission while doing the above.
  • Not properly sorting my meds.
  • Not putting out clothes when they need to be.
I understand that as a result of this, my hair is to be cut in a way that pleases my master, and suits my position, and is to be cut down to this length every Sunday, until I gain the privilege back by:
  • Doing at least a half hour of exercise every week day (walking, playing DDR, crunches).
  • Additionally, playing DDR at least once a week in the above. -moan of despair-
  • Working on the studies my Master wants me to learn, at least a half hour a day.
  • Staying on top of Towels, Garbage, Dishes, and Laundry.
  • Getting my library fines sorted out. I can't do this until I get paid.
  • Getting my timesheets at work sorted out. I can't do this until I hear back from the HR person at work.
  • Filling in my daily reports, every day.
  • Sitting and taking my haircuts like a good girl for the next four weeks (today plus three more) I guess this one isn't happening.
Signed:
Date:


And once she signed it, she'd get cuffed, stripped, and buzzed down. I have a pretty good idea of how much I would have done. She'd still have her ponytail, but more along the back and possibly sides would be buzzed to nothing. The style I'm thinking of is called an undercut now that I do a little Google searching. (The pic of the second girl is...in a perfect world, kinda the exact hairstyle the monkey would have, all the time: enough to grab easily, but nothing for gags, blindfolds, or masks to get snagged in). This holds NO appeal for me.

As the thought of such a scene got me rather horny, I proceeded, still half awake, to get myself off and the decision that came as the endorphins soaked my brain was that this was indeed too harsh. (For some reason, a thought that sneaked in there was that a more appropriate response would be to give her a hot, soapy enema instead, but I'm not sure where that came from or if I decided somewhere in there that doing so was also too rough).

At the moment, however, I'm not thinking either treatment is. If I go home and find her asleep, well...time will tell.
He gave me the enema, no hair cut.
topthemonkey: (really)

This isn't a disclaimer per se, I just want to explain a few things. I think this entry portrays me as a pretty crappy slave, and I generally don't think of myself that way. The Top puts more emphasis on my mental illness issues than I would like, both in this entry and in general. I know those who know me well will not do so, but a caveat: please do not take this entry as representative of me as a person and/or slave.  My own disclaimer.: You're not a crappy slave at all.  You're wonderful, and the whole point of this Journal is that people know it.

The monkey was having a hard time with her PMDD a few nights ago, and it came down to her attacking both herself, and me. It was spurred by her telling me not to do something (I think but am not sure I was hitting her butt with a crop, gently), and me laughing about it, because it seemed like a silly request: one I would honor, but the fact that I was smiling, laughing, light hearted, set her off. Actually it was set off by this: The Top took my glasses and was laughing at my squinting. I protested and he told me it was adorable. I was very frustrated.  As I remarked to you on IM just now, it kinda...remined me of Velma from Scooby Doo for reasons I can't quite explain.  I love the little pouty face you make when I take them.  It's the same pouty face you make when I take your nose.  If it's a serious thing, then we'll work it out.

She got really angry, and started biting and pinching me, trying to wrestle it out of my hands. I kept pushing her off, but she kept coming at me, despite my saying no.

After, she wound up on the floor, crying, for several minutes, not liking who she was at all. And I held in things I wanted to say, because I didn't think they'd help. Yelling and screaming wasn't the answer, but neither was laughing (you considered laughing at my crying?). I wanted to tell her "stop crying, you're being ridiculous, get off the floor", but that would have brought tears, so I stood, and watched, and let her cry out. That was kind of depressing, being curled up in a ball on the floor and having you just stand there silently, making no gesture towards me, not offering tissues.  Given what had just transpired, I wasn't sure HOW to react, honestly.  I offered you a paper towel, tho.

It all happened so quickly I can't honestly remember events now, but maybe she'll fill them in.

The next day, when I brought her out of bed, I put her leash on, and as she was using the bathroom I got a set of cuffs, and told her she was going to get her hair cut for attacking me. She immediately said "red". After a moment of trying to convince her otherwise (you said that I was calling red because I did not trust you, which did not jive with my understanding of safewords or trust), to which she replied "you're not honoring red?" I went with it and took the leash off, I didn't have the typical "correct" reaction of saying "there, there, it's allright". I just felt bitter and angry. I don't think there's any "correct" response though perhaps some are more productive than others. Very rarely do you say "there, there, it's all right" when I call "red.No, the response I'm describing is the typical response most people use in red, that we use in Yellow.

In the BDSM context, "red" is supposed to stop an intense scene (I would contend that it is intended to pause whatever activity is going on. "Intense" and "scene" are so subjective I disagree, though.  Think of the attitude it's given at our local playspace.): safewords are mainly used in places where other forms of communication break down, for example, during a flogging screaming "stop," "no," "ow," or crying or struggling. We use it more thoroughly, but she's used it in the past against taking a bath (I don't remember that one), or getting up after not having had enough sleep, or doing things she felt were embarrassing, as opposed to painful. There was context to all of those, and just saying it like that makes me seem like a brat. Also, "red" is not limited to when things are painful; more often than not, when I have called it the reasons have been emotional. Red is also useful when approaching a "hard limit." For us this generally means permanent damage. Her hair is not quite a "hard limit," as such. Though if I had my druthers it would be. This may be something we can talk about.  I don't want to concede it, though.  Your body is mine, love.  We've cut it short before, and I've told her of events that will lose it for her, without question.

Throughout the day, I continued to feel pent-up anger and aggression, and in the evening, I simply stated the sum total of what had been going on inside me. She asked a question about something else (I have no idea what, or if it was at all related), and I realized that the level of honesty was to the point where I needed to say them, and that it wouldn't be damaging to say so, and I said it:

"A real slave would have sat down and taken her punishment like a good girl."

Her response was "are you trying to get a rise out of me?". I explained that I wasn't, that I had just been thinking of how "real" the BDSM element in our relationship felt, discussing it with a friend. Recalling how insulted I had been when another friend had said something to the effect of: "as much as you guys like to claim you're 24/7, you're really not because you don't have complete control over her." I asked other deep questions like "do you like being mine?" and "do you like wearing that collar?" Make no mistake, this has come up in discussion before, what if she no longer wanted that aspect of our relationship (in hypothetical terms, not because I've contemplated leaving I was going to put that, but thought this entry was already getting tangential enough) -- but in this case, there was no doubt that she wanted it.

He also said he wished that I would of my own accord prepare to be shaved down.
I told him that his anger would fade faster than my hair would grow back.  I wasn't doubting that.  Neither should you.  What you should worry about is if my anger fades before I'm done buzzing down your whole scalp. Some time passed, maybe 5-10 minutes, and I was thinking about whether or not I was going to do what he wanted. On her own, and without being ordered, she went over to the bathroom area and took out the hair clippers (we actually use pet-grade clippers, they can tear through the thickest hair better than most home-grade stuff), and got out the handcuffs and the leash. I cuffed her and told her to sit down.

Before I turned on the clippers, she looked at me somewhat defiantly and said "I'm doing this for health insurance". Actually I said that I was earning my health insurance, to which you agreed.  Indeed, my memory was a little fuzzy. I also said that I wasn't sure if the fact that he was willing to risk whatever anger and resentment came was a positive or negative thing.  How much resentment are you feeling? She cried a bit while I did it, but in the end I only buzzed off a few inches at the base of her neck, and then brushed the rest of her hair back and put it in a ponytail.And you were intensely aroused.  I was aroused after.  I don't recall being aroused during.

I have no doubt that if I would have taken more, that she would have grown more upset, and who knows, that day may come at some point. Like some of the most severe punishments our relationship has seen, I didn't want to do a set amount, I wanted to do it until I wasn't angry anymore. The "beat her until I'm not angry anymore" can work out better or worse (on my side) than the set number method. The fact that she took the punishment on willingly...did a lot to alleviate that anger. But I needed also to make it clear this wasn't just a "mindfuck," wasn't just a case of my making her sit down to see if she'd sit.

But this time, I don't think I ever wanted to shave her down to nothing: I like seeing her long hair as a length of how long she's been with me. We've trimmed for some split ends, so really, it's more like "I've been with you at least this long." What I wanted was to see her put on the cuffs (it's a bit tricky to handcuff your own hands behind your back), sit down, and take it like a good girl. I wanted to have her there, helpless, and say "I'm sorry," and know that absolution was there. I wanted her to trust her master instead of calling red as soon as the order was given. And in reading this after I write it, she may once again feel bad about it.

As her master, I need to show her that I've given it chance after chance, but that I need to push, ever gently, on the rules here, and hold her to them. That's the problem, though. If it happens and you don't punish me, over and over again, of course I'm not going to take threats of punishment seriously. We discussed this.  Which is why I was annoyed at your calling red.  It does not work well for me. She's expressed this. I told her while she was showering that after it had grown in, if she did it again, I'd shave off the same spot, and if she more bad things before then, I'd just take more. I would much rather let her slide on dishes being left in the sink on a night she went to bed sick, than let this go by. Yes, she was in extreme emotional circumstances, but that explains it, not excuses it.

Make no mistake, if I find her doing something like using drugs, or deliberately not taking her meds, or something like that, I won't hesitate to take everything, but having it groomable is a work-related thing, to at least some degree, and it does affect her self esteem. It's not self-esteem exactly. It's really complicated. If I wanted to damage that, I could of course be evil and strike fear into her with the words "reverse mohawk" or "mullet."

In short, I believe there would have been far less angst if she'd have tried hard to believe that I understand her attachment to her hair, and understand the relationship between it and her self-esteem. See above. One of the things she needs to understand is that I'd rather -- much rather -- have us both know that all's forgiven, but she's going to look a little less like she wants to, than have us see each other in ways we don't want the other to see. I would rather look at her and see a girl who made a mistake that will take a few months to fully fade, but whom I forgive fully now. The physical matches the emotional, and it makes sense to me.

Note carefully that I've told her if she wants to dye her hair, that she may (after discussing it with me) but after she does, once her roots start coming in, she's getting buzzed down to nada. Because she's as attached to her hair as she is, she hasn't tried using it to "buy" anything with it, although if she did, it might work. I never even thought of that. That's not really how my mind works.

From a slightly more kinked perspective, I like the concept of this kind of haircut. It's something I associate with learning, and privilege. It's an extreme change of appearance that leaves no permanent damage. New slaves are "fuzzy," and longer hair comes with age, experience, and time. You earn your long hair by not making the mistakes that cause you to lose it, or in a more extreme sense, because you're required to cut it regularly. I also like it because it counters some of the norms of traditional beauty, at least to some degree: reference Natalie Portman's character in V for Vendetta, or in a more extreme example, Britney Spears. (To be fair, Natalie looked hot, Britney didn't, but the pics of Britney were pretty badly candid.) And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love the feel of it under my fingers.

I wonder sometimes, what will happen if it gets worse with age. I love her dearly, and know that she loves me. I know that sometimes when TheCrazy sets in, it's easy to lose sight of that. She's already on a cocktail of medications, and I'm loathe to add in Yet Another to the mix, when many forms of birth control could cancel out existing medications.

I need to get a pic of the back of her head put up before it grows out too much.

topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey and I have joined our local dungeon/play space. We went to orientation earlier this week where we toured the facility (but didn't play because the monkey had forgotten his ID), and last night, we used the place for the first time.

I should mention that when I met the monkey two years ago, playing in public was very much a hard limit. I wouldn't say "very much." Some time at a fetish con, and living with a few kink-friendly people have changed that somewhat, but a new place with new people is still a stressful experience.

We got there around eight, after having dinner with incredibly slow service in a normally-good Mexican chain, but the monkey was having a bizarre personal fixation problem: he wanted a new pair of shoes, because he's been stubbing his toes rather a lot lately. In fact, he had been obsessing over this for most of the evening, despite the fact that I felt he wouldn't be wearing them most of the time. In my own entry I'll explain this. Anyway, after signing in, we ran out again to do this:we were in an unfamiliar area, and finding a shoe store proved rather stressful. We eventually found a PayLess, but I'm generally not a fan since they tend to fall apart. The monkey did his usual retail-female-uncertainty thing, trying on several pairs of open-toed things and mid-height heels (I did not try on any open-toed, and I wasn't being uncertain I was trying to find a pair that fit) (neither of which would do anything to offset the accident-proneness), and we eventually settled on a nice set of male dress shoes for him.

I got him back to the playspace, stripped him to his underwear, took his glasses, and put him into a small floor-cage while I went and used the bathroom. I took out some toys and laid them out on a chair and on top of the cage, and went and attached one half of our suspension cuffs to some ceiling-chains that were nearby. I exposed his back, and his butt, and got going.

However, after bare-handing him a few times, I started to see the angry expression: the expression that shows the monkey's going to break, going to snap and take an alternate, Sybil-like tone, and get aggressive with me. He growled a few times. I pushed a bit, encouraged him to communicate more, told him it could stop any time, and we kept going. I used a crop, a rod (both very nice things), as well as both of my deerskin floggers on him. (I love this new flogger, it's just so pretty. I really need to put a picture of it up here at some point.1.) He told me that his arms were tired (I said my shoulders were starting to hurt and I'm trying to be more conscious of such things since I've started regularly going to a chiropractor), and he needed something to lean against, and I moved him over to a very heavy St. Andrews Cross: really well made, with adjustable restraint points. I put the suspension cuffs up on those, and as his tits were just straddling the "X", put a set of clamps on those as well, so if he backed off, the chain would tug. I continued flogging, quite hard, with the Big Flogger, really developing a good rhythm and form.2, moving along to my other toys, the rubber one occasionally, covering his entire back side pretty well. I wasn't going for catharsis or anything like that, but it got to the point where I could hear him sobbing, and I looked and found his nose runny. I got him some tissues and let him down, and after some brief cleanup we headed to the "cooldown area", a lounge of sorts, and met some of the group. The timeline there is a little messed up. I was crying a good portion of the time I was on the cross, the Top knew and asked me if I wanted to continue and I said I did.

I cannot express enough how awesome and comfortable these people made me feel. While I of course don't mention names (hell, even our own), it was a very friendly, fun crowd, easily relatable, and very accommodating. I got a chance to play show and tell with our suspension cuffs, and tell brag about the deal we got on them, and the like.

After some others proceeded in for another round of playing, we did too. This time we wound up in the "medical play" room, where I tied the monkey to a stirrup table with a plethora of a rope, put a spreader bar between his legs, and gagged him with a roll of vetwrap (as in, just popped the roll in his mouth). This is the condensed version. A few people walked through the room while we were going at it, all were respectful, none conversed unless I started it, but I tend to like over-the-shoulder conversation. At one point, a couple giving a tour peeked quietly in. The Top waved at them. It was very surreal.

We hadn't brought any lube, or a vibrator, unfortunately: I had told the monkey to, but he had felt that he wouldn't be at that level of comfort on this trip. Consequently the only lube we had was some SurgiLube that was already there, and I worked him up for what was probably close to 45 minutes before he dried out and my arm started getting tired. He tried to tell me through the gag that he needed more lube and how to better finger-fuck me, but I was trying to be cautious as we'd never used this product before. He seemed okay with it, so I slathered it in, and went back at it. Another few minutes of (ahem) deep tissue massage, and he was ready to come. However, I need to mention something here...when I thought he was getting close, I *ordered* him to come, and he did, within a few seconds. This...amazes me. It's been a stressor before, both for him and for me, gives him performance anxiety, and he handled it so well. I think a big factor in that is I'm trying to let myself go and be more obvious when I feel myself getting close and the Top has also gotten better at picking up on when I'm on the verge of orgasm.

Again, cleanup. Again, back out to the cooldown area. The ride home was nice, too, we talked a lot. I shared some radically honest things about an ex, and the best sex we had ever had (the ex and I). I also related that because this dungeon requires condoms for vaginal and anal penetration, that I didn't think I'd be having much sex there. I revealed to the monkey that there's a loss of some sensation since my hernia surgery. Not a lot...just coupled with the additional loss of sensation of a condom, it's just not...nice. I like the closeness of flesh on flesh; I think once the monkey gets his wisdom teeth out and his TMJ under better control, we may do more oral there.

Thoughts for future visits:

  1. I need some kind of transporable gear carrier. I ideally like the "street salesman" case, a suitcase with unfoldable legs type thing, but other things are workable and my mind's now going at it. I am in favor of buying a case from For Your Nymphomation, perhaps this. Or just a good duffel bag.
  2. The lockers they have there are just a few inches too short for some of our impact toys. But they bend.
  3. Other people I'm working with have expressed nervousness at public play but feelings of being okay with being a helper, one to go get water and get me toys, and otherwise observe. I'm thinking a blue play-collar (get it?) for this purpose might be great. Oh look, sub-shop's having a sale, and this is on sale too.
  4. Buying some food in advance. I'm thinking hitting the nearby subway would have probably been a good idea. This kind of stuff is exhausting. I really only like Subway sandwiches immediately after they're made. Otherwise the dressing soaks in and it's oogy.
  5. Other things, I'm sure. Things the monkey will add, I'm sure.

1. Hell, I need to have one of the slaves photo-catalogue all our toys here, and rate them on cost, history, and pain factor.
2. I believe flogging is somewhat an art and a technique, and I'd actually like to make up a flogger Kata

topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey and I recently came across a friend looking for advice, who is new and inexperienced to the world of kink.

For various reasons, I was unable to offer it to them directly, but I put a good deal of thought into it, and it was what I feel is good generalized advice, so I'd like to offer it here.

I am "the top". I hate labels. They imply things that are not true. I think labels are often useful. I just wrote several very-long entries stating that I see people as "subs" meaning "subordinate" to me, people who would be students, who would seek to learn. I don't call myself a "Master" or a "Dominant" or "Lord Vader" or any of the other crazy titles that some people make up. I also mis-use the label "subs" to define any of:

 

  • Submissives who serve me
  • People who are collared, but who do not serve in any sexual or BDSM sense
  • People who Just Don't Have Their Life Together, or who in a social setting consistently fall under me.

 

I only use it for the first one. I don't do the obnoxious capitalization of Me/My/Mine that some of these people do. I don't attend a week-long course at a "Master's Academy" and believe that qualifies me to dominate someone, whose loyalty and trust should be earned over time and with effort.

As occasionally happens, the problem I had in trying to offer insight and advice became an issue of the medium versus the message, the semantics versus the sentiment, and the adversity versus the advice.


The monkey and I recently talked about this book over dinner. I remarked that I could probably write an entire counter book and call it something like "Game Over: how to rise above the meat-market mentality and find a loving life-long relationship". It apparently involves several techniques for getting women to follow you, mostly by being enigmatic and dishonest and by tearing them down. Eh, not exactly. It's about manipulation in a more general sense. Read this article to get a better idea. Keep in mind this book is not at all about S&M.

The monkey and I are in the kind of relationship that most people normally mis-associate with demeaning behavior: the kind of behavior this book advocates, where a submissive is told "you're worthless" or "you're nothing" or "you're pathetic". That's really not what the book advocates, and from speaking to others this sort of degradation is more an "in the moment" type thing. I don't even use these kinds of words to describe really anyone I care to know, submissive or not. Everything I do with the monkey is intended to nurture, to bring him up. If there's punishment, it's to remove previous wrongdoing and get on with our lives, instead of letting things linger. If there's anger, it's because that's what I'm feeling and I'm trying to be forthright in making that known so it can be fixed.

My advice-seeking friend recently confessed to us that they had had experiences being dominant with a partner in the bedroom and enjoyed it. They also professed that they felt somewhat above their partner for various reasons, and wanted to control other aspects of their behavior (such as life improvement, and reduced drug use) but were met with opposition and eventually a walking-out on.

She asked me for advice on how to explore these aspects of her personality. To be fair, it felt as though she wasn't even sure WHAT she were asking me for, and a lot of it just felt like a braindump.

She mentioned that she liked being worshiped, like a goddess. I address that specific desire individually:

Being worshiped is great for a scene. It's great for bedroom play. It's wonderful for a one-night stand. It's good for a spicy night in an otherwise vanilla relationship. That seems like a pretty big jump for a vanilla couple. There's ostensibly no shortage of submissive men willing to do this for either a short or long period of time, but IMHO, it's not healthy. Constant boot-licking will eventually get old for both parties, and it doesn't expand to the full basis of a relationship. It doesn't scale. It can't. Besides having no variety, and getting fiercely repetitive, it lacks a karmic balance in that one constantly gives, the other constantly takes, and things get out of whack. One could argue that both parties are taking something from the experience.

If you are interested in learning more about Kink, and about yourself, here's some advice:

Find a mentor. I don't think this is necessary. Learning about this takes years and years, and it's a slow journey. I feel this depends on how general the area of interest is and what the tentative goals are regarding bdsm. Find someone that can introduce you to people, and show you the ropes. I hope that wasn't an intentional pun. Who can tell you where to go for good toys (I learned on my own), and who can tell you where the good parties are assuming you are the sort of person who has interest in bdsm parties, which not all kinky people are. Who can give you the education that need to be able to play safely and be sure of yourself, but who you won't think it trying to oppress, dominate, or control you. Find someone you can sanity-check your experiences with: "Is it okay to do this or that?" or "He wanted to do X, is that even possible?" There are communities everywhere for this. Collarme, Fetlife, etc. There's clubs and groups in your area (in every area). Find one.

Read some of the blogs and books the monkey posted about earlier.

With regard to actual bedroom sex and play, assuming in all cases consenting, aware, adults:

Be open minded. Discuss things you'd like to try. If you know and have some experience with your partner at least a little, there's leeway for at least a bit of spontaneity. If in that case there's something you want to try, try it. Want to grab their hair and pull them into you? Want to give them orders? Try it, gently at first. I feel you should not spring these things on a partner out of nowhere. Even if you've been together years, if you haven't discussed the aforementioned actions, you don't know what the reaction is going to be, and it could be pretty awful. Learn your partner's cues: what he does when he likes it, and when he doesn't, and work based on those. I strongly discourage relying on perceived cues. Ask for constant feedback. If you want them not to touch you with their hands, say that. If you want them to do ONLY what you say, then say that. Get where you need to go, get your partner where he needs to go after, and enjoy the experience.

If this is a type of relationship where you'll be able to them neutrally at an "hours later" time, then open communications: Ask your partner afterward, what he thought of it, and listen to the response. (Did you like it when I did X? Was it nice when you did Y? (Or, be a "real dom," and claim that you don't care!) I suspect that's sarcastic. Tell him what you thought of it. Learn about yourself. Learn about them. The only caveat here is to be mindful of risks. If you want to try something more extreme, do your homework. Do not assume that your partner has done all the research. If someone wants you to do something that they swear up and down is safe, but that you doubt, trust your instincts. Unless you say "yes," it's rape. Your body is your own, and no matter how dominant you are, his isn't.

With regard to a relationship:

You're asking me for advice on self-discovery, and how to find someone who will meet this side of yourself. "I want to be worshipped" is not the terms of a relationship. It could be. I am in a long-term relationship, and that's where my advice would focus, so here's some of that:

Be Honest. Be open. Be loving. Be caring. Be a friend. Be a lover.

All of that transcends being a dom or a sub; transcends Kink or Vanilla, and all of it describes what I have with the monkey. It's the greatest thing in the world when you have it, and I wish everyone could have it.

Getting into a long term relationship can come on quickly, but at some point, you need to examine your needs, and the needs of a partner.

You could say "I want a car with leather seats and an Ow-ooga horn." That covers a wide range of cars, some of which run, some of which don't. Some will break down on you, some will fall apart on you. You owe it to yourself to lay out everything. I could find you a ford pinto with SOME kind of leather seats and that kind of a horn. You owe it to yourself to detail what you WANT, what you NEED, and what you'll settle for.

Just as I did in my last entry, you should do the same. Here's an example based on the monkey and I:

I expect from the monkey:

 

  • Honesty, whenever possible.
  • Sex on a more or less regular basis
  • The ability to call you demeaning things Yeah but he does this really playfully.
  • You to be able to learn your limits
  • My house clean and in order The house being a studio apartment.
  • For the monkey to be able to take care of himself
  • For the monkey to do (school/work/etc) what he needs to be fulfilled

 

I provide for the monkey:

 

  • Guidance and feedback
  • A firm hand and rough sex when he wants it
  • Food, shelter, clothing, books, health insurance

 

I will not abide:

 

  • The monkey being involved with one abusive partner from his past
  • The monkey self-harming
  • Self-abusive or demeaning behavior

 

There's more, of course...and maybe one day I'll detail it all, but that covers the basic needs.

If you have a list in advance, and know what you're getting, know the parameters of the relationship you want, then, be you dom or sub, you're more prepared for it.

It feels like there's so much more I could write, but this was the advice I had prepared, so that's the gist of the post I'm making, albeit reworded.


In closing, I apologize if this entry seemed rushed. I may have some refinements to do, but I needed to get it out so I could get on with my day. I've had a rather angry night. Luckily, I have a very good editor-monkey.

topthemonkey: (Default)

The views expressed are only the Top's, and not the monkey's.

I don't like 99 percent of all porn. It does nothing for me.

Recently, when speaking with a coworker (don't even ask how this stuff comes up), I said:

"It's like watching someone eat an ice cream cone. I don't enjoy watching other people eat something I want to have. If I don't have access to the same ice cream, it's just going to annoy me." (And chances are, they won't be eating one of the flavors I like, but I left that out of the conversation). Even more annoying, I guess, is when you see someone trying to act like they're REALLY ENJOYING that ice cream, but you know they're just faking it.

Strip clubs are even worse. It's like someone waving an ice cream cone in your face, and charging you for it, but the most they'll do is dump it in your lap where you can't eat it."

I think that pretty much sums it up.

topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey and I took a walk together today, a walk to actually accomplish things, like procure dinner, return a DVD, buy milk. It covered about a mile, together. It was definitely more than a mile.

The monkey got up late today (but earlier than the day before!), and didn't accomplish much: was unshowered and unchanged when I got home at around six. Though there have been many days I have accomplished things and not showered or dressed. Like yesterday.

Still, we watched a few nice movies, took a walk, came home, had a nice dinner/rape movie experience (I'll leave it to the monkey to post about the weird french movie), then I tied him up in a nice hogtie on the couch, wrists anchored to a leg of the desk, which sounded solid but actually creaks a hell of a lot, and gave her an orgasm. After, she did the same for me, and we showered together. Nothing amazing, she comes-he comes, done. I'm guessing you were being sarcastic about the movie, since you didn't seem to like it at all. Did you use the word "nice" that many times on purpose? And I think there were some parts that were kind of amazing. Like how hard it is for me to even try to swallow but I did make a big effort the other night. I'm actually a little hurt that you were so casual, almost dismissive. You've left out the great cuddles, also.

It's been a very nice night, and I'd love to have more like this.

topthemonkey: (Default)

Note: I was considering posting this to my personal journal instead, but there's enough of the monkey's medical information in this entry that I wouldn't post it publicly. This nice anonymous but public monkey-journal then is the perfect answer. I would especially love comments from you medical people (you know who you are) on this entry.

The Monkey and I had a discussion this morning that stemmed many things, about sleep, and there have been other contexts in which this has come up.

The Monkey is having trouble sleeping. She is suffering from insomnia. She took issue with that fact that I said she was an insomniac. No, you said I was NOT an insomniac.

I agree that sometimes labels are bad. For example, an occasional drinker may or may not be an Alcoholic. Someone who occasionally mis-spells things may not be a dyslexic. Someone who bleeds a little longer than usual may not be a hemophiliac.

But, if you suffer from X, either as a disorder, OR as a symptom, then you are an X-ic.

Example: during my liver abscess, I had no appetite whatsoever. Between pressing stomach pains, illness, severe stomach shrinkage, and being NPO about half the time I was in the hospital (and the taste of hospital food didn't help), I barely ate. I had anorexia. I was anorexic. It's not a disorder, it's a symptom (reference here). And while some so-named things can only be confirmed by diagnosis (for example, only a doctor can really tell you if you have Schizophrenia and thus are [a] Schizophrenic), this wasn't one of those cases.

The Monkey argues that the label "Anorexic" doesn't mean that...but at the same time she doesn't seem to fully assert that the Label is only reserved for people who suffer from Anorexia Nervosa, or people who subscribe to the pro-ana or thinspiration lifestyle. Remember how you were saying that you go off on tangents in your writing that make it hard to follow the point?

And yes, there are modifying phrases to this. "I'm an occasional insomniac. I'm a chronic insomniac. I'm a diagnosed/undiagnosed insomniac."

Whether the label continues to stick when people have recovered from the disorder in question is what makes the "label" form of this tricky. After all, if you're a recovering alcoholic, who is five-years sober, and don't plan on having the problem for the rest of your life? Is this not like saying you're a recovering hemophiliac as long as you're not bleeding? I thought hemophilia was not curable unless Rasputin was your physician? If you're a recovering alcoholic, aren't you still just seen (at least by some) as still an alcoholic, and therefore as a lesser (less reliable, less stable, less capable) person? I don't think acknowledging that recovery from addiction is often a life-long proccess is the same as saying someone is "lesser."

But shying away from labels, let's just say the monkey suffers from insomnia.

 


 

On sleep, however, I started looking at her problem logically. She took great offense that I looked at it as a "hardware problem" (and I said as much). Oddly, this for me was intended to be comforting: That I didn't see this disorder as "fucked in the head", but instead as something physical-chemical, possibly as simple as dietary changes, exercise or activity levels, or medication adjustments.That's not how I took it. You said 'you're hardware is fucked" or something like that and I interpreted that as "I am diagnosing your problem in a way that makes sense to me and will allow me to fix it even though monkeys are people and people cannot just be 'fixed' like computers."

She seemed upset that I wanted to take a familiar perspective to me to diagnosing it. That I wanted to take the point of view of something I am very good at. For me, this was looking at something scientific. It's a problem to solve. But she was upset to the point of shaking at this. It was more than that. You said other things too. Like that I "just" had a "scheduling problem." I just . . . see the annotation I made last paragraph. Also, I feel like you constantly qualify my problems, as you deduce them, with the word "just." She said she didn't like that I thought I knew what was wrong with her. My counter was that I do not; if I did, I would have taken steps to fix it. At this point I'm requesting feedback from her, trying to offer possible insight.

Possible outlooks for this, over the course of this morning, included (and some of this is expanded beyond this scope of this morning's conversation):

1) Her schedule is off, and her circadian rhythm might be failing (OF COURSE my circadian rhthym is fucked up!), compounded by the fact that she's in an unfamiliar place (four months, it's familiar enough now) and spends most of her time indoors. The air, the sky, the stars, climate and elevation are all different here. None of the traditional "queues" are there. Even the ones we don't understand, like rotational and lunar position are somewhat off, considering we're on the other side of the country. The side effect of this is that the body does not strictly adhere to a 24-hour cycle. Which means she may do 12 hours of sleep, and 14 hours awake...which causes what a computer person would call "clock skew". And I know a thing or two about this. For months at a time, I found myself on a 37 hour day. Up 24, down 13 -- occasionally awake for 37. My work schedule allowed it. I should mention I was single at the time, and younger. I know that one of the main ways people relate to others is through their own experience. But I feel this sometimes causes you to misinterpret and belittle what I am going through, because you judge it against a measurement based on your own past issues. You haven't really mentioned by depression and anxiety as factors. They're major causes. But those are shifty, slippery disorders so I guess it's easier to just ignore them in your calculations.

XKCD even had an answer for it, with the small print "this schedule will eventually drive one stark raving mad".

2) Like I used to be, she may not be able to sleep unless she's exhausted. She's resorted to taking meds that, while they can occasionally be used to help you sleep, are not really designed for the purpose. (The intended purpose is to stop a panic attack. The side effect is being in a coma for hours). It's not a coma! This is compounded by the fact that these meds are old to the point of being discolored (but ostensibly, better than nothing).

3) She's looked into sleep centers, and sleep studies, and I fully believe that while such things may help add data to the problem, they cannot possibly be scientific. They do not duplicate your bed, your sleeping conditions, the comfort that may come when having a big warm Gushi next to you who snores and hogs the blankets. They do not duplicate the things you do right before bed, and usually, when doing them, you do not have the same pressure to be awake in the mornings.

4) One of my theories is related to her night terrors: She stays awake until exhausted, and then goes to sleep. She then, being exhausted, gets deep, heavy, dreamless sleep, until her body recovers enough for her brain to be active (I would say this is at about the 5-8 hour mark). Then, the night (effectively morning) terrors kick in. I could prove this easily enough with a voice-activated recorder, with a timestamp capability. Since her medication that prevents her bad dreams may also be calibrated to last the amount of time of a "usual" night's sleep, this makes this likely. The medication is a BP med, which would seem to make sleep more deep and REM-less...except that people NEED REM, and hers may come after her meds run out.
Sadly, I'm not sure of the decay curve of that med, and I don't think there's a more time-release version. Perhaps if she drank a large amount of water just before bed, she could take another dose when she inevitably got up to urinate, but that's hardly a way to live. My psychiatrist and I already discussed this and dismissed it as an option.

5) She has been missing her nighttime meds for several days now. Three. Solely due to my own negligence. I keep forgetting or putting off calling in a refill. Considering they had to build her up to the dose she is on slowly, over several months, this CANNOT be a good thing.

Sadly, this is causing a bigger issue for me: I don't believe I will consider her ready to go to school away-from-the-house (with scheduled classes) or to take a job with regular hours until this is fixed, because I believe doing so would be setting her up to fail; to be trying to learn or work while trying to stay awake after only a few hours' sleep.

Sleep

Feb. 17th, 2009 12:33 pm
topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey and I went to bed together at roughly 9-10PM last night.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, he got me off, and then decided he was hungry and went to go get something to eat. Which you gave me permission to do.

He re-entered our bedroom after 4am, having sat up on the internet all night. Not doing schoolwork, or chores...but sitting reading amazon and other blogging sites he reads. He said he "lost track of time" (as though the clock in the corner of the screen somehow disappeared). It's very small, in the corner. I think it's pretty easy to not pay attention to.

As he normally needs 12 hours of sleep, this behavior virtually defeated any chance at having a productive day any time before 4pm. I wish you weren't right about this one. It completely wasted the anti-nightmare medications he took when we went to bed, and most likely means that while he sleeps away the morning, the terrors will come.
It also means that with my work schedule (which gets me out of the house at 5), when I want to go to bed, ideally around 8-9, he will have only been awake for a few hours.

I'm not happy with this, and I told him so. We've spoken about this before. It doesn't seem to have helped. I told him his place is next to me.
And I told him to set an alarm for 11:30 (which is right about now), which should get him up with enough time to do some useful things today, but should leave him feeling a little tired, so that at bedtime, he might have some interest in actually going to bed.

I know staying up late and reading was a problem with a previous dominant (admittedly at that time it was a midnight bedtime). I'm really tempted to find a way to restrain her into bed (with appropriate penalties for having to get up in the middle of the night.)

She at least seemed aware that I was seriously disappointed in this, which is I guess good. I was sobbing and shaking and you only think I seemed aware?

topthemonkey: (Default)

This is a response to the monkey's previous post. It may or may not be fueled by caffeine-induced rage, and it may or may not be influenced by the fact that when I tried to explain all this to the monkey this morning, as I felt bad about the way she felt last night, my words fell on sleeping ears.

I realize for some of our readers here, some of the details of our personal lives aren't always apparent, but I should say it: I'm at a new job. I've been there for only a few months. Yes, we live in a relatively open-minded area, but even then: I don't know any of these people personally, and can't manage to pre-gauge their reactions on many things.

As I explained to the monkey: "you identify as (gender) queer, which means I use either pronoun for you. Around my coworkers, the female is most convenient as that is how you were introduced." If it turns out that the monkey starts preferring exclusively male pronouns, then I will start using them. And it means that I will "come out", and will have a talk with anyone who asks about what this means. She's my monkey and I'm with her for better or worse (wow, that doesn't make me feel like a burden at all). For other friends who are trans? I could cautiously introduce my coworkers to that concept. But it's slippery, and it doesn't apply to everyone I might have in my life. I guess I just don't see it as something that should be "cautiously introduced." I don't think that simply disclosing gender is synonymous with discussing sex/personal life.

I'm friendly with my coworkers, but they're not really my "friends". The question I must ask is: 'would I be friends with these people, in the same sense that the details of my love life would be relevant, without a working relationship?' For example, I've known our CEO for years, in a technical sense, but never where we'd talk about anything non-technical. I don't feel any particular closeness to them, and honestly can count on one hand the number of people I've worked with, that I've shared details about my personal life with, that I did not initially know outside of work. (Thus people like AA and CO would count on that list, people like JL would not). Wanting to not be friends with your subordinates makes managerial decisions easier, and makes decisions like hiring and firing and evaluations more clinical, so I suppose I can understand it. These people owe me a paycheck.
They even (because we're in a good place) owe both me and the monkey benefits. They don't owe me understanding or acceptance. That's kind of harsh. They owe tolerance at the very least. At the end of the day, my working relationship with them is simply that: a working relationship.

And in the end: my job is giving me quite a lot to live on right now, and as much of a cop-out as it is: I'm not going to rock the boat. I feel nervous discussing Prop 8 with my coworkers. Yeah, because they all seem like super-conservative homo-haters. I feel awkward talking about fun I have in the more gay neighborhoods in the city. It's not like you're talking about porn shops or cruising. We went to a fucking G-rated movie! This...would be more of that.

The monkey embarrassed me (and another coworker) quite a bit within the first week of meeting some of them. It came up that one of them was furry, and (in a car with others one who were not) the monkey started a conversation about "who was that guy who shit his diaper in a friend's car?" OK, we were on the subject of babyfurs specifically, I didn't bring it up (I think) and I was using that as an extreme example. Fine, it was inappropriate. I don't think before I speak. I don't have an inner censor. I overshare. These are things I need to work on, I admit. But you shared an embarrassing anecdote about ME with fucking everyone and felt no shame. (That same coworker had noticed the monkey's collar, and later advised me to keep kink-related stuff off the radar.) And yet, another co-worker openly discussed going to the Folsom Street (Fetish) Fair and another about wanting to buy pot in San Francisco. AND NOBODY CARED.

The fact that the monkey (and/or other folks, trans or not) would be in my office is because there are reasons: it's not a hangout spot, but occasionally the monkey is there because she has an appointment in the area, or because we have shopping to do after work. People have been cordial and friendly to her, and they've had no reason not to. Because you're made me terrified to say anything. Having other friends there would be for similar reasons, and I would not think it would be nearly as common if I didn't live an hour away from my office.

But I've been here only a few months. I cannot gauge the typically closed-minded reaction of people, who talk to the monkey about when we're going to get married(1) and why we're pushing the DP angle, to not have the same biases I do. People just assume, male and female together for awhile, must want to get married. It sucks, but you can just say "we're not interested in marriage." Several years ago, I struggled with many of the same term-biases that other people have: that a bio-female in a long-term relationship with a bio-male couldn't logically identify as a lesbian (even though the same bio-male is now (and was then, to a lesser degree) trans). Or struggling over being corrected for calling someone by a pronoun defined their "legal" gender, and including hearing the stories of the pigheadedness that comes with things like "have you legally changed your name? Do you have a penis yet?" (Several, in varying sizes and colors.) then I'm going to call you what you are. On my own side, I occasionally get mistaken for a female (it's embarassed my father a number of times to hear "Oh, is this your daughter?". Even as recently as a month ago, I got called "miss". It usually happens when I'm clean shaven, and happened a LOT more often when I had my hair longer and in a ponytail. My voice is higher than most, which also makes people think I'm gay(2) . So I've had at least a small taste at not being taken for my true gender. I'm not saying "I know what it's like to be trans" or "I know the excitement and feeling of acceptance you get when you pass". I'm just saying I've had a small taste.

And yes, as language is a concept, and language is fluid, there are terms that most people just don't get yet. No excuse. How will they learn if everyone takes that attitude? "They" is already a word everyone knows, and people already accept it as a given even for a single. E.g:"I'm sorry, they can't come to the phone right now."(3) Much like the word "womyn" seems to some to be less about fairness and equality, and more about unshaved flannel-wearing there-are-penises-on-the-land radical over-the-top-feminism, (This sentence makes me angry in ways I don't have words for) forcing myself to use a term like "sie"(4) or "hir" would evoke immediate confusion, 20 minutes of explaining, another half hour of Q&A, or just plain awkwardness, and some people at work have told me outright that they just don't care about (and don't want to hear about) my personal life. And in dealing with Language, you're at the mercy of negotiation: just like computers on a network, you have to agree on a common set of terms and protocols to get a message across.(5)

The monkey doesn't like "being referred to by the plural", but some people, whom I consider friends, even when I've tried earnestly to explain what it means to be genderqueer, have preferred another term: "it." And then they've explained that they're just joking (I make some off-color jokes myself but you just called the person I love "it". How is that funny?) Who said that? Is that better?(6) "They" is a nice way of slipping things under the radar, of preempting reactions, seeing how a person is perceived without any, and when it becomes clear that I only use that term or a proper name rather than a gender-pronoun, I can turn around to a person I feel might be accepting and say: "Have you ever heard me use the word 'her'?". Yes, that's deceptive, I suppose. But I'd prefer people get to know my friends as people-first, and trans-entity second. Pronouns other than "they" screw that up.

I can also always just use a person's given name, but that gets tedious and obvious, and the goal here is NOT to be obvious. Not because I'm trying to HIDE their gender, but because I'm trying not to FORCE their gender. There's a (very fucking) subtle line, but given my own pessimism of people, I prefer to work to that point slowly. Maybe this is part of the monkey's issue. It's not about pride, it's not about embarrassment. It's about need-to-know.

I revealed the Monkey's gender identity to my mother, while I was recovering from surgery (and I will continue to blame both the drugs I was on and my mother's attitude.) I wasn't trying to weaponize her identity, and I feel that may have created a sore spot. You totally were! You were using me against her and we both knew it. Don't use the drugs as an excuse.

My monkey is my monkey. I love my monkey. And I'm going to take care of my monkey. What else should matter?

--

(1) (I explained our domestic partnership as being for religious reasons, which is coincidentally also true -- once again, the reality versus what people NEED to know is not unrelated.)

(2) (and maybe I am, after all, I fucked a boy in the ass last night!)

(3) (On the same note, we say "your party cannot come to the phone right now". Isn't that also implying the plural? No.)

(4) (as an aside and to make things more confusing, "SIE" is also a technical term where I work).

(5) This will be a long footnote, but it was always a common argument of the monkey to state that "sex" is about physicality, and "gender" is about identity. Um, not exactly, but pretty much. Also, anyone remotely educated about gender issues knows this. I argued that at least in some circles (lingual dialects) gender is a technical term that has its own meanings. For example: in computers, a Gender Changer changes the PHYSICAL characteristics of a port, but NOT the signaling coming out of it. To take this tangent further, her definition of Gender would apply more to something like an identical port that changes context but not its physicality. For example, the distinction between an FXS interface and an FXO interface: one is likely the phone jack on your wall, the other is the (physically identical) jack on the bottom of your phone.

(6) (We also lack a term for true asexuals that doesn't imply inanimate object. You're conflating gender and sex with sexual orientation. That's outside the scope of this post for discussion.)

topthemonkey: (Default)
This is everything, I suppose, that I expect from my slavegirl.
Standing Expectations:
Note: some of these are obvious.

* Not allowed to self-harm
* Not allowed to drink alcohol without asking
* Not allowed ice cream without asking or gelato or sorbet or frozen custard or frozen yogurt
* Not allowed to smoke (anything).
* Not allowed to call herself stupid, or say demeaning things of herself.
* Not allowed to be alone with X. (Mentioned in other entries).
* Not allowed to masturbate without permission.

* Expected to wear collar 24/7. Which is pretty easy since it's locked on.
* Expected to accept compliments graciously. I think this means without scowling/protesting/glowering
* Expected to lay out my clothing each morning. Or the night before.
* Expected to shower and eat a meal within an hour of waking.
* Expected always have water, medication, and a snack (like an energy bar) when we go out.
* Expected to get me off if asked. Does not have to be with the aid of an orifice.
* Expected (in general) to call me Sir.
* Expected to do laundry. Before the Top runs out of pants (this has happened several times).

Expectations We've played with (only apply if noted)

* Required to ask to leave my presence, unless ordered to do so. (Currently trying this).
* Required to ask to get into my bed.
* Required to shave body regularly.
* Required to wear uniform (skirt/shirt).
* Required to do schoolwork of various types. When school is in session.
* Required to sleep naked. Unless it's really cold and I ask not to, or I have a bleeding vagina. He likes to keep some distance between him and menstrual blood.

Expectations I'd like but which are not practical or which we wouldn't be happy with:

* Wake when I do, sleep when I do. (meds and different metabolisms)
* Sleep in your cage. (Back issues)
* No clothing except uniforms.
* No posessions except things I'd given you. Huh, he's never brought this one up before. I'm glad this is on the "not gonna happen" list because no way I'd be remotely comfortable giving up, say, my dead father's wedding ring or the blanket my aunt made me.

Expectations I'd like:

* Preparation of breakfast every morning. (loosely defined, this means coffee and something baked that I can take and run).
* Wear of some kind of cuff all the time.
* Waiting by the door when I get home (this *might* be easier with something like this)

Things only I can change:
* More Play Time
(to be added to in a bit).
topthemonkey: (Default)

Friday, before I came home, the monkey expressed an interest (over IM) in playing that night. In fact she begged. Which I love.

We did...rather a lot of impact play friday night. Crop, Flogger, Paddle, bare-hand. I mainly tried to focus on the ass, although a lot got done over the back and lower thighs. She built up rather nicely, and while she squirmed a bit, and yelped a bit, she was trying rather hard to work through it and did well.

Saturday was spent just lounging around the house, watching some classic Kubrick movies, A Clockwork Orange and Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, cuddling and spending time...we got to bed surprisingly early.

She's been looking at toys a lot online. It's my version of window shopping. I do this a lot in general. This upsets me, because I want to buy them -- but money is a bit tight now. She wants a new set of cuffs, preferably vegan, like these or these, but I don't like a good portion of what's on the market -- perhaps this requires a separate post, with some reference pictures. Personally, if I were to get her anything, I'd like to get her a nice set of gorean shackles, and just have them worn full-time. How about a link to some examples for all the readers who aren't familiar with Gor? Sleepable, showerable...and easily attachable to a set of chains I'd just keep permanently attached to the bed-sides.

Sunday...I woke the monkey up at about 8am, feeling a bit randy, and told her I was going to be piercing her nipples. I clipped her paws behind her back, snapped another clasp on her ankles, and put a blindfold on her. She begged me not to -- quite a lot, and yelped when the needle finally poked into her. So I stopped.

((An aside: I should mention that I'm about to talk about someone new: Potential Slavegirl. I talked about her in my last post. She knows who she is. If any other of my readers (who I've been flirty with in the past) think I'm talking about you, I'm not.))

I sat, upset for a moment and growing worse. Upset at the fact that she has another friend who has...less personal barriers against agression. Less filters, who doesn't have a problem hurting her. I wrote about him here. I was becoming upset at the fact that I have another potential submissive (I'm sure you'll hear more about her as time goes on) who I felt would accept this piercing willingly, heck, would do anything to have this piercing done. I grew upset at the fact that as many times as the monkey has told me that she is mine to do with as I please, that this is such an issue. Sir, you encourage me to vocalize any hesitations I have. And I vocalized all this.

And then I told her "this is a problem, pull your shirt up, and look away. Okay, take a breath, little pinch now...and...done." The needle slid in, effortlessly, behind her nipple. I let it sit for a moment, checking her for any signs of shock -- but there were none. She was fine. No crying, no bleeding...no anything. Just my monkey, with a long hypodermic needle through her nipple. We spoke about it for a few moments, and then the other one was pierced as well, just as easily.

I joked, pondered a bit about also piercing her clit hood, but, well, one day at a time. Anyway, once that was done, there was some really decent sec, then I held her, rubbed her nipples up against the needles from the inside -- fucked her some more after she sucked on my nipples. She tells me the endorphin rush was amazing. I love getting pierced professionally. I just have to remember to have the same attitude with play piercing and HOLD STILL. The needles came out just as easily, and we showered and did the usual sorts of things.

I mentioned sometime during that interlude that I really want to get my hands on the real piercing needles (which do hurt more) and pierce her nipples with jewelery for a day or so -- make her wear something tight so the rings show. Which kind of feels like a waste to me. Why not just pierce them permenantly? Because you like binding? Maybe pierce her tongue temporarily if she misuses it ie: is sassy (although doing the tongue requires specialty hardware). If I'm going to be doing a lot of this, I'll probably make the investment in an autoclave for the jewelery (we'll always, ALWAYS use single-use needles). If not, a pressure cooker is a good substitute. A worthwhile investment anyway -- sadly I won't trust a thrift-store pressure cooker. I don't think we have one of those.

It turned out to be a regular day -- more lazy weekend lounging -- a lot of good talking about a lot of things...and a lot of feeling so proud of her for getting past this.

Her second orgasm of the night, before dinner, was had while I gripped her by the hair and the collar, and she humped against my leg, like "a good little puppy", barking and growling the whole time, telling her of all the things I'll have her do with Potential Slavegirl, how they'll interact together...how I'll have them play with each other for my amusement...how I'll have girl A plow girl B, while girl B goes down on me...how I'll fit them with nice, matching shock collars...how I will train her to be the absolute comeslut (cumslut?), not allowed to get off until everyone else has. It was nice, dirty talk. But...dirty talk that could be realized, if things work out.

Dinner, another movie. Mundane stuff. She had some ice cream that she had to lick off a plate on the floor (no hands). She's had to do that twice this weekend...it puts out her butt so nicely for croppage. And I really love eating off the floor or from the Top's hand.

Oh yes, did I mention? Yes, you didOkay, so I like mentioning itWe acquired a crop from one of my favorite little places. It's been...my favorite toy. Useful for all sorts of things...waking the monkey up...motivating the monkey around the house...whacking things to startle the monkey...gently slapping the monkey's cheeks (pick a set) when she's being just a little difficult...turning off the light switch without getting out of bed...tenderizing the monkey's ass before starting in with bare-hand.

Once we got to bed, around ten (with my new work schedule, that's later than I'd like), she got me off nicely.

When I woke her up at 4(!!) in the morning, she got up quickly and laid out my clothes, and we cuddled for a bit. I loved holding her. She tells me that that particular hour was too early to take her meds (which I guess is okay -- but if she doesn't IM me by about 10 and tell me she's done so I'll be upset). I did so at 11:30. Eep.

I stopped off for coffee and a donut on the way in. I don't feel it's out of the question to have part of her routine be to get that stuff, but I might just invest in a Keurig system (just for the commute -- I don't generally like Keurig because it's so wasteful, but it's so effortless that the tradeoff and cost might be worthwhile). How about a link for the readers who don't know what a Keurig is? I had to look it up myself.

topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey has always had trouble with sleep since loooooooooong before we were together, for at least 12 or 13 years. From nightmares, to insomnia, to meds causing her to need more sleep than normal (by a LOT (not that much anymore, I think, since I got used to them). She's also had trouble with keeping my sleep schedule as any normal human being would (I need five hours a night when sufficiently left to my own drugs, meaning caffeine).

The monkey is also having trouble listening to her body telling her to eat. Well, yes, because I spent years training myself to ignore these messages.

Both of these things (hygiene (how is eating hygiene?) and sleep) are cautious indicators of depression.

For example, even though I've stressed this Wednesday, and made her wake up and eat some breakfast (which wasn't the best, it was donuts, but it was SOME food -- throughout the rest of the day, until I got home, she had eaten nothing more than tea with a little milk. I ate a second donut!)

Wednesday morning, with her mostly unconscious, I put the training collar back onto her ankle. For the uninitiated, this is your basic dog-training collar, zipped way small, and modified to accept a padlock through the buckle. She asked me Wednesday night if she could have it off, and I told her "no".

I woke her up yesterday morning, and she was literally begging to be allowed to return to bed.

Unfortunately, I don't feel I can trust her right now to do what needs to be done. Probably wise.

My rules are simple, right now. This is all I want:

  • I want a slave who will eat within an hour of waking.
  • I want a slave who will shower within an hour of waking.
  • I want a slave who will eat at least one more meal on her own thereafter.

Those two (nutrition and hygiene) are non-negotiable. Then, either of the following:

  • I either want a slave who will wake up with me. She'll be woken up when I do either way, to take her meds, but I want her to stay awake at that point.

-or-

  • I want a slave who will go to bed when I do. If I am getting tired, my slave should take that as a cue to encourage me to go to bed. If I am under some kind of deadline where I must stay up (this is worse now that I am no longer a three minute drive from the office) then she should differentiate that as "he should be asleep but has to stay up for work, however, I should still sleep." I totally suck at going to sleep by myself.

If possible, I'll take both of the above, a slave who will cuddle up to me at bedtime, and will wake up cheerfully (ha! me? wake up cheerfully?) and let me ahem use her before I go off to work. This could still ideally be accomplished by way of a mid-day power-nap (naps fuck me up, though I love them and sometimes need them) (so long as an alarm were used (I hate alarms)). Ideally, this could be done after lunchtime (the meal she always forgets to have) -- and doing so could even be made a condition of having eaten.

That's the basics. Another very important "basic" is Schoolwork. Not doing ANYTHING ELSE (housework, punishment writing assignments (which I've only had once), exercise) is excusable if schoolwork is the reason. But Schoolwork is a place I expect the monkey to be able to self-govern and trump me on priorities. But when the depression kicks into high gear . . .

Advanced Topics:

  • I want my dress code enforced. I like skirts, corsets, white button-down shirts, and clean white socks. I've bought these for my slave. I like school uniforms (male-styled or female) and am willing to buy those as well. I feel being allowed to dress in what the monkey likes is a privilege that shouldn't be considered "earned" just yet. I would wear t-shirts and jeans everyday if I could.

  • I want the monkey shaved. All the time. I'm willing to give this up if the monkey shows sufficient advancement in the above areas. I haaaaaaate shaving.

  • I want the monkey to get regular exercise. This means walking around our neighborhood, using the Wii-fit, playing DDR, using the exerbike we now posses in the garage, coming to work with me and using the exercise room there, etc.

  • I want the monkey a tad more independent. (Ironic.) Being comfortable with taking the bus-to-the-train-to-the-city, being quasi-able to get to her own therapy appointments (i.e. coming to work with me and finding her way from there). Getting a part time job, or a volunteer position (as a bonus, if she did this she wouldn't have to wear what I want, as the job would trump that -- so long as they were okay with her collar). If she gets a job I'd like to see her monies go into savings for the most part. I have no problems covering her -- the point to a job is more to help the way she feels, let her establish some savings. I wouldn't mind seeing her get a driver's license.

But....babysteps first.

UPDATE:

Last night, after telling the monkey "I'll be home late, feed yourself", I got home to find the monkey hadn't. So I fed her (not literally, though that would have been arousing), and then, before bed, I stripped her to her underwear and put her in her cage...I told her, sincerely, how important it was to me that she be able to take care of herself in these minor regards. I am no longer working 2 miles from home, I have an hour's commute now. I told her I was disappointed. I told her she needed to do better.

After talking to her sternly for a bit, I had her lay down on the bed and gave her a few strokes of our punishment-tool (which I'm at the moment calling the hydra). She bucked, hard, but didn't scream out. I'm proud of the way she took it. I don't like having to see her tense up and shake the way she did.

I have no problem with doing this until I don't have to anymore, i.e. until she learns. I'm traditionally a slow learner.

Back home, there were negative influences -- the other slave in the house routinely slept till  well past noon.

This morning, she got up with me, ate breakfast, showered, and called to ask permission to go back to bed. I granted it -- because I believe this acclimation will take time. A long time.

However, I expect to come home to find her wearing her cuffs. I expect her to have had another meal. I expect her to have a report for me of what schoolwork she's done.

These are Not Unreasonable Expectations.

If she's done these things, then maybe at bedtime her training anklet will come off. Of course, if it does, it's going to be kept right by the bed, at the ready, for the next few days/weeks.

I love my monkey, and this is going to be difficult.

topthemonkey: (Default)
Anyway, on the subject of my frustrations with therapy.  Arguably, this could be its own post.  If anyone (the monkey included) thinks so, let me know and I'll make it as such.

This isn't the first missed appointment we've had. It was the first I missed with my psychiatrist. I've missed ONE with my therapist. Some of which have involved me driving out 15 miles away in heavy traffic both ways at 6:30 only to find the appointment was at 4:30.  I think there was another one, too.  And quite frankly?  This is the monkey's mental health and well-being.  If she's not going to be RELIGIOUS about this stuff, then I don't know what she should be fastidious about.

We'll couple this with something that stresses me out a lot, and I might as well list the figures here.  Each weekly therapy appointment runs me $110, each psychiatrist appointment (every two to four weeks) runs me $130.  Plus the cost of the meds (about $75 a month? It is DEFINITELY less than that).  Plus the time it takes me off of work to go to these more-often-than-not during-the-day appointments.  I schedule them as late as I possibly can. A one hour appointment kills about three hours during my work day.  And they're not group sessions.  They're sessions during which I sit in the car (much as I am doing now), and try to get something done, phone calls made, anything.

And I *gladly* will pay it to have her get the care I need.  -raises eyebrow- The care YOU need, sir?  Actually that was supposed to be "the care I need to know she's getting" but it does sound rather freudian like that doesn't it...? I will gladly do this all for her -- but it's critical to realize here, that I can ONLY do this by virtue of the job that I'm being pulled away from...so there NEEDS to be some level of prioritization here.

In theory, all this money gets receipts, which are then to be filed off to the monkey's insurance company for reimbursement -- it's covered by her stepfather in another state.  Factors we don't know are a) where the claim check gets mailed to (my stepfather, as he is the policy holder), b) when it will come (within 30 days of their receiving it, if there are no problems with it), and c) who it will be made out to (again, my stepfather, the policy holder).  I say in theory because I recently (as in yesterday) found out the last claim they made had been rejected because they couldn't read the doctor's handwriting (since when is that supposed to be legible?) -- and this too is a sore point, there were literally weeks upon weeks where I kept patiently expecting the monkey to file these claims, only to find some reason they hadn't been done. I knew they were important but you gave no repercussions whatsoever for my not filing them.  During that time I was having a lot of trouble giving you repurcussions for not doing things.  At this time -- please get it filed by next wednesday.  If you need anything, ask me.  Fair?

I believe the state right now, at this very moment is that even though the monkey knows the last claims were rejected, the new ones have not been filed.  I could be wrong.  Please let me be wrong. It's been one day. ONE. DAY.  See above.

At this point I've more or less accepted the fact that I'm throwing -- have literally thrown -- thousands of dollars into a black hole, and that this is the cost of having a mentally healthy monkey.   Yes I'd love it if he could figure out the local buses/public transit and get himself to these things.  I'd probably also be very happy if (as my original plan was) that his reimbursements were cyclic -- i.e. that he sent them in once a month, and that as the checks came he'd use them for future care, on a rolling basis.  Then again, I'd be perfectly happy if either of these two therapists would take a credit card (such as my HSA account, which has $1200 just sitting in it, and is MADE FOR STUFF LIKE THIS).

The monkey's also on a lot of medications -- she normally needs 8-10 hours of sleep a night.  A new drug she's on the past few months makes her need a solid 12 .  I hate this medication.  It doesn't even always work. It works really, really well for the first 2 weeks, when it knocks me out. Then it sort of wears down as it makes me sleep less.

She's being treated for depression -- and yet the DRUG CAUSES THE MOST OBVIOUS SYMPTOM OF DEPRESSION. Well, technically, that drug is one for high blood pressure with eradicating nightmares as an inadvertent side effect that I'm taking it for, not depression.   Yes, but depression overall is one of the base things you suffer from -- either as a disorder on it's own, or as a symptom of other disorders, it's a big warning sign.  And we've been over the warning signs on my own end from this kind of sleep.

Since the monkey only likes to go to bed with me (and it's 2am as I write this) it's pretty much a given that the monkey will not be awake before 3PM tomorrow.  This has sadly become the norm.  This is what I've been like since before I was even on medication. If I stay up late, I'm going to sleep late. A lot of people are like this. I will always need more sleep than you do.  Yes, but this sleep is...deeper...can't wake up for anything kind of sleep. I've told her to discuss this with her doctor, and he insists that this effect should fade.  It's only been how many months now, of increasing dosages? It does fade. Then he ups the dosage and it starts again. But now I'm at a plateau and I'm going to see how this works out.  Because as the side effects subside and start to fade, so does the drug's effectiveness?  I'm leery there.

This stuff is not always so easy.  There's kinda more I want to say, but it's already getting long here.
topthemonkey: (Default)
So in answer to the monkey's recent entry, rather than commenting inline, I'm simply going to annotate my own comments.

First and foremost, while when I got the text messages from her doctor (my voicemail transcribes them to text and sends them to me) -- it was already way too late to call him and reschedule.  It wasn't a disaster -- she still had enough meds to last until the the doctor could squeeze her in on a lunch break to see her.  (She did NOT have enough meds to make the next normal appointment).  We were out, shopping, doing nice things for the monkey, and I really didn't want to kill it.  I had just gotten her some very cute jeans, and we were in the process of getting her some NECESSARY and also ON SALE stuff from victoria's secret.  I was a little miffed at the time about the missing of the appointment, but I wasn't furious.  I got furious when I actually had to spend twice the money that I hadn't put aside.  We'd done other things this week that were already somewhat expensive (necessary travel, plus some nice recreational purchases), and after the stress of a long trip, it was the last thing I needed.  That was the time I was angry, and that was the time I wanted to take action.

When I brought her home from her doctor's appointment, I had envisioned basically getting things over quickly, then letting her take her meds, and sleep it off, no harm no foul.  Instead, the lack of sleep made her unable to take what I wanted her to -- even unable to take being put in a position and lectured (without being punished, as I was going to try).

If, two weeks ago, I'd have said "you're going to be punished for this when I get charged double two weeks from now and money is tight for other reasons" A) I would have been psychic as a part or ME assumed this would be negotiated down and B) I would have gotten two weeks of dread.  I no longer talk about punishments with the monkey in advance.  I used to.  It's just led to frustration and being attacked.  Now, when I'm upset, I don't bring it up in any place where it's a "trapping" situation, if I can help it.  I don't yell, I don't curse.  I just slowly burn and think about how to handle things.  If the monkey asks if I'm upset, I will be honest, but I do not prepare for a 45 minute car ride by saying "you're going to be spanked when you get home."

So now, being punished is always a surprise.  (Trust me, you don't want to talk about punishment when the monkey has her hand on your genitals.)  Quickly started, quickly done.

Yes, missing the appointment was a mistake.  It's minor.  It's not the end of the world.  I told her these at the time.

Neither is being punished.  Yes, it's unpleasant, and it hurts, but...this is what the monkey signed on for.  You knew I was a snake when you picked me up.

As we just discussed in the car -- I feel it's important to be able to channel my frustrations into punishments.  When the monkey does something that upsets me, which is as a result of breaching of standing rules or expected behaviors (for a silly example....being responsible for his own mental healthcare), and it makes me genuinely angry, I want to be able to dissipate that through punishment.  I flatly refuse to take out my frustrations on the monkey (or on anyone, really) for other situations.  I.e. I won't want to flog the monkey because I had a shit day at work, or because I'm angry at my roommate.  I don't want a human punching bag or stress-doll.  I've got video games and loud music for those other frustrations.  But when *she* does something wrong, there's a defined space in our protocol to deal with it.  I'm not sure what, if anger, I'm supposed to feel when I'm doing this?  I don't feel joy.  I don't feel relaxation.  I feel unpleasant to see her crying, oftentimes, a high-pitched screaming.  This isn't a turn-on.  It's a necessary thing.

There's been a time in the past -- the infamous "warehouse scene" where I truly unloaded on her.  Literally cuffed her to a shelf and wailed on her till I didn't hurt anymore.  But then, that was for something far more severe, and it's been dealt with in several more-practical ways since then.  The monkey fears that me actually channeling frustration into punishment will result in repeats of this situation, but I don't personally believe so.

I hope to one day have a monkey who will say "I understand you're angry, Sir.  I know this is going to hurt, please let's get it over with quickly."  Sometimes I can say that. Sometimes I'm triggered before we even begin. Yes, part of punishment is the ability to channel my frustrations into the situation when I'm feeling them.  And once said frustrations had been channeled, then it's over, and the monkey is forgiven.  I hold her, kiss her tears away, and the issue stays in the past (for the Top, anyway-I do not let go so easily)-- only revisited if there's a repeat offense that warrants harder training at a future point.

However, last tuesday, I got a monkey who said things like "I see, so you're not going to be happy till you beat the shit out of me."  And instead of being able to channel my frustrations into her, and put her to bed...I got cursed at, blown off, and got to go back to work angry, after having taken a three-hour-lunch for the monkey's benefit, where I coincidentally didn't actually get time to eat lunch.  Not that I couldn't stand to miss a few lunches, mind you, but you get the idea.

Nothing makes me wince more than someone who lovingly, and in tears, told me that it was important that I give her rules and enforce them turning it around and making me feel like a goddamned wife beater. Which I feel very guilty for. It's like I'm a different person, when I'm in that headspace. Not like that's an excuse, it's just, I don't know, a partial explanation I guess. It's damned hard to get out of that space of my own volition once I'm there and it's damned hard to recognize when I'm slipping into it.

I've been sick and we've both slept a lot, but we discussed it last night -- a critical detail the monkey missed in her own post is that while I slapped her gently a few times, I told her that IN LIEU of punishment, I was giving her a new behavior, and some new conditions....that instead of getting defiant, and turning into a person I don't recognize, who attacks me -- that I will not punish her as long as she begs not to have it.  I've also given her the ability to bargain, with whatever she likes, which effectively lets her have a means of communicating what she's willing to take as a transgression, and even commit to some feelings of guilt -- all the while not receiving something triggering.

I am totally willing to say if I can't get the "please sir let's get this over with quickly", I'll just as happily say I'll take "Please sir, please don't punish me, you can take away my ice cream for a month.   Please sir, I'll swallow every night.  Please sir, I'll let you take away my internet..."  And failing that, I'll accept "Please sir, I know I've been bad and need to be punished but I can't right now."  And in a perfect world if that last one was the answer -- then perhaps the monkey would come to me when she was ready.  -sigh- If only. But let's not go that far right now.  Right now, I'm simply giving her control of what does (or doesn't) happen to her, but letting her stay in character, as opposed to verbally and nearly-physically attacking me.  It's a new program, and I'd like to see how it goes. Well, I hope.
topthemonkey: (Default)

Note that I started writing this entry at: 2008-06-22 17:12:52

I've just ordered the monkey to go upstairs, strip naked, and get in his cage and wait for me.

What I haven't told him is that he's about to be punished.

One of the things that we agreed upon, very early on, was that the monkey's meds were important. Critically so. He's been punished in the past for not having them on him, and I've also been annoyed in the past when it's been broken to me that "I'm out of X".

We were away from home last night, in a strange place where the monkey had never been before, and the monkey forgot his night-time (nightmare-preventing) meds.

[Time passes]

7PM:

I found him upstairs, in BED, rather than in his cage as I had asked. He got seven strokes, mainly across his ass. I didn't punish him for being in the bed, as he had honestly mis-read our IM conversations when I said "cage". I really don't understand how that happened. It was over quickly enough. This is not a part of our lifestyle I find pleasant.

[Later that day]

2AM:

I found him in the bed twice more today...right before we went to sleep I gagged him, bent him over his cage, and gave him another six strokes. Even with the gag, he screamed pretty hard, burying his face in the clothing on top of the cage. He screamed and cried so hard. Said he felt "vulnerable" and "distant" after. I fell asleep pretty quickly, and feel bad I couldn't have held him longer after. I didn't want to be held. At all.

There are times I'd like to let this slide. But I can't. He signed the contract. Which means he's going to learn to respect my property. Or sleep on the floor. Once he's done being sick, there's going to be more consequence for removing his tether, too. Maybe I'll "lock" it with some of those breakaway seals.

topthemonkey: (v)

For at least a couple months now, I've talked occasionally about getting married to the monkey.

This is an interesting subject for me, and my reasons for it are odd. Actually, I know at least one person who got married for insurance benefits, so I don't think it's that odd. I mean they loved their significant other, but that's what made them sure.

The monkey is on some heavy and expensive medications. She requires regular psychiatric and therapeutic care. It costs me on average a grand a month, (it so does not! It's more like between $600 and $650, not including the gas used driving to appointments and whatnot) out of pocket, and we MAY not see it back, as the insurance was rather confusing. My therapist was assured that we will get almost all of it back.
And (dark a thought that it may be) she's had some heavy self-injury issues years ago that could be a disaster if they ever surfaced again. Love, that would be a disaster in my life whether I were with you or not. Also, we play in some pretty heavy things, and one ER visit that gets deemed "

Right now, she's insured on some student terms that are, IMHO, pretty shaky as she's positioned to graduate soon, and she's also living in a different state from that she's a student of (and is still using her home address to get them). I'm also insured under my step-father's job. Which is actually really good insurance.
My job's rather-good insurance will cover her, but only as a wife. A job I could have taken in California would have covered her as a domestic partner, having only to share an address, sign a piece of paper, open a joint bank account, co-own a car, or any other amount of similar things, to get the whole deal.

The monkey, as many know, identifies as genderqueer, sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl...and is a big fan of gay marriage, and the rights therein. Like any person who's not an idiot and/or asshole. For other personal reasons (that I'm sure will be annotated), the monkey is NOT a fan of marrying simply for benefits reasons. It means something to me. It's a religious and legal institution which makes it complicated but it's something I take very seriously. It's not a step I feel ready for at this point in my life.

Myself, being totally non-religious, I see marriage purely as a legal construct. I do not need a piece of paper to tell someone I will love them always, that I wish always to have them in my life. I think that goes without saying, sir. I do not need the approval of either a legal system I have less respect for, which denies people equality -- nor the approval of a religion I do not subscribe to, to say whose hand I hold. Really you hold onto my wrist, not my hand.

(Oddly, I do prefer the strength of a piece of paper as a way of enforcing what I may or may not do to a person; i.e. I have less doubt about punishing the monkey on the clause she has signed a contract for me for, than other behaviors -- but that is simply a contract strictly on our own terms, not subject to the interpretation of a greater legal or religious body.)

I do, however, need a piece of paper to be able to say "I am supporting this person, give me a tax break", or "she's with me, give her healthcare", or "she's on my car insurance", or the quite-extreme "She's not conscious, I'm coming with her, let me in the goddamned ambulance". I've been on both sides of the emergency room doors when they were slammed in people's faces: "Sorry, family only". Boyfriend doesn't cut it. Fiancee doesn't even cut it. I haven't personally tried "I'm her master" but I doubt it would be better.

And yes, for most queer types, marriage is an obstacle. My argument and opinion has always been "at the moment, you're legally male and I'm legally female. Yes, we're sorry our gay friends can't get married, (nevermind that I identify as queer/gay) but if the system doesn't respect us, what's to stop US from milking the system for our convenience?" It feels cheap to me. False. The system sucks, but I don't think that's a reason to use it like the Top is proposing.

So I want the benefits of Marriage, but this too has seemed "off" in the monkey's head, until I made an analogy clear to her. I am adopting her. Taking her in, just like a child. I own her. And in order to do that fully, the marriage may be necessary. It's not the modern, 20th-century "mutual partnership". It's the 19th century "you better love, honor and obey me" role.

And while "Daddy" is a sensitive word that we tread carefully around and that I will never require of her [because of her own issues with her passed-away father, and because a previous, abusive ex required it (he didn't require it)] -- I do want a parental, guardian-like role. I want to be the one who holds her and tells her she's a good girl (or boy). I want to be the one who she cuddles up to and feels warm by. She's the one I want to make sure is well taken care of in my life insurance policy if god-forbid anything happens to me. We laughed about it last night. She can be my Dick Grayson.

I discussed a good portion of the above with a friend and they suggested something alternative: power of attorney.
Virginia, where we currently live, is generally obnoxious about this, to the point where I want the REAL thing. Besides which, I consider Power of Attorney to be a slippery slope: in taking it, it's sometimes more difficult to get back, even when both parties are consenting.

On a psychological, training level, while we've discussed in previous entries that I DO NOT want her body shaved because I like the "twelve year old" look, there IS something about the cleanliness and uniformity of it all: she hasn't "come of age" yet. Not physical age, but simply: that like a child in school, she's not allowed to choose her own clothing, she's not allowed the privilege of getting a job outside the house, she's not allowed most of her own life decisions (although I'll respect academia and religion as personal choices), just as like a child, her "job" is having chores around the house and getting an allowance when her behavior warrants it.

Right now, she's a slavegirl, or my "boy". They're adolescent terms but don't necessarily imply ageplay. "Boy" has long been used in the leather community to designate an inferior, a trainee, an apprentice. Actually, the nickname "boy" was coined for me years ago when a friend says I was fun to play with, like a Ball Of Yarn.

And one day, she may "graduate", and take the world by storm -- be allowed to earn and spend her own money and buy some of her own clothes. -giggle- *That's* taking the world by storm, sir? I would very much like it if one day, she were able to turn her experiences in this into a career as a writer, speaker, or educator, sharing the fact that this can in fact be something loving and caring. And after all that, I'd be honored if she will wear my collar, kneel before me at a word, and when she enters my bed, she will still ask me first.

Hi, I'm the top. And I want to Keep this monkey. Always.

topthemonkey: (Default)
The Top likes a shaved slaveboy. Ankles to knees, armpits and groin. But especially the groin. This monkey hates shaving.  (As Usual, the top's comments are in bold). As usual? You've done this maybe once!

I shaved regularly when I was a teenager. Part of it was the absurd but commonly held belief that as a female I would not be sexually attractive unless I was hairless. When I stopped cutting, however, I didn't think it was such a good idea to keep razor blades around. So for the past few years I've shaved my legs maybe once every 6-8 months, my armpits once every 3-5 and my groin maybe once a year. My body hair is light and thin. I really like being fuzzy. I don't have a hirsute fetish, but I prefer women who don't shave.

Shaved vaginas freak me out. You know that vagina monologue, where the woman says that in order to love vaginas you have to love hair? Yeah, I'm with her. A shaved pussy makes me think pre-adolescence. I think that Brazilian bikini waxes are indicative of our nation's fixation on sexualizing children. When brazilian bikini waxes and childhood collide, then it's really freaky.

This has nothing to do with pre-aolescence, although I've encountered a number of females who don't want to shave because it "makes them look 12". 
It has nothing to do with pre-adolescence for YOU, but I'm talking about my own personal associations.


It's a kind of vulnerability I don't like feeling. I've shaved my body, but especially my vagina, when I was feeling self-loathing, when I've missed my dead father, when I've felt alone and scared. A smooth crotch doesn't make me think sexy. It makes me think crying in the shower.

...and yet when you've felt most upset at your own actions, you've presented yourself to me, shaved and exposed, like a good girl..
Because I know it pleases you and I know you know it's not something I like doing. It's an act of penance, I suppose.

This is a part of the protocol I've always felt it right for a slave.  All their positions, all the ways they are to carry their bodies, should imply that they wish to hide nothing.  This is evident in more than just the shaving.  My standard sitting positions are all laid out to leave the hands visible, showing that you are holding nothing that can be used against your master.  As regards your body,  I want my slave equally exposed, I want her hair out of her face where she can't hide in it.  I don't want her able to hide behind her glasses. And yes, I want every detail of her sex to be visible to me.
And this all makes sense to me.

The Top loves when my vagina is shaved. He just wants to fondle it and lick it and he gets this ridiculous smile on his face.  Calling your top ridiculous doesn't help the plight, Boy... Not YOU sir, just your smile! And it's not a *plight*.

I think perhaps part of why he likes it so much is that he knows I don't like it. I do it for him. I know that growing it out is a privilege. If I had my druthers, I wouldn't shave it. I don't care if it would never mean being licked by him. My body hair is more important to me than receiving oral sex from my primary partner. Or from anyone.

There's a good number of things that I would have you do that you don't always like.  You dislike the shorts and skirts, you're a fan of wacky crazy socks ("wacky" because I like different colors and keen-highs?) as opposed to the plain white ones i prefer.  You love your glasses whereas I love to look into your eyes with your face unobstructed (and the fact that you're near-blind and helpless is only a TEEEEEENY part of the attraction there). Teeny, uh-huh. Sure.

It's not just about the fact that I like being fuzzy. My body hair, in many ways, is a protest. It says fuck your fascist beauty standards, fuck what you think I should look like, fuck what you think should make me sexy, fuck the ways you made me hate myself you stupid bullshit patriarchal society.

Lets be frank: I also thought you were attractive with your head shaved, and Natalie Portman aside, that's pretty against the societal standards for attractive. Yes, sir, but this isn't about whether your personal tastes concerning body hair are socially accepted, it's about my feelings on my body hair.  I'd love to require you to keep that buzzed down as well.  Failing that, I'd want you to keep the nape of your neck buzzed, where your gag buckles...

...but I know you can't do that,
(well, maybe just the nape of my neck) and I won't make you...unless we have what I've called a "reset level event".  Where I decide we need to re-examine the relationship from the beginning, and I need to re-take you as my slave, from the beginning.  Of course you know this, but this is for our readers.  The things that would cause this are a pretty short list: drugs, self-injury, attacking me physically. Having sex with other people you hate.

Not shaving is about reclaiming my body. I have a lot of body issues. I've hated my body a lot over the years. I've also hated myself and taken it out on my body.

"Reclaiming your body."  Of course, you recognize, that it's not your body to claim or re-claim. Of course, you recognize that I was also talking about the past few years where I've rarely shaved.  It's my property, now.  And part of wearing the collar you've been wearing is accepting that. I honestly didn't think of that.

But good monkeys, they do what they're told. And if it really upset me he wouldn't make me do it.

...which is why for a slave who enjoyed the exposure, an eventual reward would be in getting them treated so they didn't have to maintain it anymore.

For you, if your behavior becomes exemplary, your reward is that you'll be allowed to grow it out from time to time.  However, if we're planning on doing public play, demonstrations, or the like...I will most likely expect you to have the expected appearance.
Which I think is understandable.

You'll earn your crotchfuzz, boy, if you keep up the good work.  And I know you can.

Conversation we had after I read the Top's annotations:
me: Sir, you realize this entry wasn't about *you*, right?
the Top: What? I'm the dominant, everything's about me! [(mostly?) joking]
topthemonkey: (Default)

...said the monkey this morning.

We were up late last night. And I was drinking coffee. Caffiene does...insane things to my libido. Unfortunately it also makes your ejaculate taste disgusting.

Sex in the usual positions I like has been on hold since we've had the whole "ikea-auto-collapsing-bed" issue, but last night, after we got to bed very late (like 4am), the monkey began to get me off with her hand...and I, being wired and tired at the same time...expressed all my fantasies for her: branding her, tattooing her, piercing her (the only one of these I can see realistically happening in the near future), locking her in a pet-crate on the back porch for others to come along and pick up, and take away, to use however they wanted. At one point, I forbade her to use the word "I" until I came. Which I really liked. I wouldn't want to do third-person all the time, but once in awhile I enjoy it.

I think I really pushed her into subspace pretty hard with it (agreed), and combined with the nighttime effects of her meds and the late-night crazy, it formed a nice place she could get into mentally. I'm not sure what you mean by this.

After I had, she asked if she could get herself off...and I talked her through this as well...telling her that eventually, she'd be body-trained so she wouldn't be able to get off without my orders...that her whole body was my property, and how much I loved it when my property took care of itself.

In the end, she was able to orgasm (rather powerfully) on command -- despite not being gagged, plugged, or whatnot (and she usually takes quite a bit of stim, there). This is something that a year ago she would have had so much trouble with. Well, it helped that there was A LOT of build-up and that you weren't like "1, 2, 3, orgasm".

While we were at it, we discussed some interesting perspective items that may have only come to me in the odd mental state that comes from being tired on a lot of caffiene...but even now they make perfect (if not perverted) sense. I have no idea what this is referring to.

I'm so proud of my pretty, pretty slaveboy.

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