topthemonkey: (Default)
This past weekend we visited a friend of the Top's and bought 2 new toys. One is a heavy nylon cane and the other is a heavy-ish rubber flogger. Both are a step up from almost all of our other impact toys, pain-potential-wise. The Top was trying them out on me at the friend's apartment, with the friend's roommate in the room. Both women were aware of the nature of our relationship, involved to varying degrees themselves, and had no issues, as far as I know, with our acting as Master/slave in front of them.

My pain tolerance is dependent on a number of things. The relevant ones in this case are
  • Frequency of pain. Have I been receiving moderate to hard pain recently? If I have, it will be much easier to take that kind of pain.
  • How comfortable am I in the environment we are playing in? If the answer is short of "very" I will have a difficult time accepting the pain.
  • Who are we playing in front of or with, if anybody? I'm far less comfortable playing in front of others, particularly if a) I don't know them, b) we are the only ones playing, and c) we're not in a bdsm-designated space.
I had not had even moderate pain recently, so though the Top started off slow, the toys are fierce and there was not enough of a warm-up for me to slid into it easily, though I tried. I had just met the two women in the room the day before and though I liked them very much from the little we had interacted, I wasn't entirely comfortable being vulnerable in that way in front of them. So it started to get to be a bit much for me and normally I would start to cry, whimper, squirm more, ask the Top to move around, call yellow.

But (and I know this was totally ridiculous of me) I didn't want to show what I felt could be perceived as weakness or inadequacy so instead I just shook my head at the Top and said "no," trying to stop the tears from coming and crawling to the other side of the pull-out bed I had been laying on.

The Top was, naturally, displeased. He softly ordered me to come to him and by the third time he said it I had stopped shaking my head at him and reluctantly I crawled back. He wanted to talk. I didn't. The friend overheard something indicating this and said we could use another room if we needed to talk. I don't remember which one of us said that was unnecessary. The Top's laptop was at his feet and I picked it up, opened a new text document, and tried to explain what I was feeling and what my thought process had been, crying while I typed. I emphasized my discomfort playing in front of virtual strangers. He was comforting, told me it was OK.

Then he started using the two new toys on me again. My first thought was, did he actually read what I wrote? I felt, betrayed isn't the right word. Ignored isn't either. I don't know. This time he was gentler and  praised me more, which helped. It was over pretty quickly. Later we talked about what had happened and he said that he started up again because he thought everything was fine, since I had expressed my issues and stopped crying. He also said that he expected me to be in constant communication, "be a good slave," "set an example." I felt kind of guilty about having not done so, and for not thinking of these things at all.

While he was using the toys on me it took a lot for me not to flip out when I was trying so hard not to call "yellow." That almost always starts this whole inner conflict, destructive thought cycle that leads to some sort of violence on my part, verbal or physical. He knew that without my saying anything and noted it and that was some comfort to me. Because it was a very small victory, but one I felt proud of.

Then he started using the new toys on his friend, while I sat on the bed and alternated between watching them and reading. He was very reassuring with her, emphasizing that she could and should constantly communicate how she was feeling, and say, softer, lower, higher, harder, not there, yellow, red, etc. Though this was their first time playing and the Top and I have been playing for nearly two years, I felt a bit put out that he didn't say any of these things to me. I know I'm supposed to know them already, that they should go without saying. And I feel needy for feeling otherwise, wishing he had said those things to me. I guess I still need to hear them because part of me thinks a good slave shouldn't offer any direction during this sort of play, should just take it; though I know that's not how the Top feels.

I want to use the toys again soon, but now I am more than usually apprehensive.

Events...

Dec. 29th, 2008 11:01 pm
topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey and I have a new slavegirl in our care. As you may have read in a previous entry, she's been fitted with a collar: it's a simple choke-chain collar from a pet store, with a padlock holding it on (it's not functioning as a choke chain -- but I wanted to stick with a pet-store chain as opposed to something from a hardware store because I know those are designed to get wet and be in contact with skin).

Much like the monkey was, we started with some pain -- she was given fifteen strokes with my NastyThing(tm). Her hair's been shorn. Her jewelry's been taken away, and while she and the monkey had played most jubilantly during last week, now that she's got her collar on, her permission to get off may be a bit more limited.

So, here's the points where I see room for improvement:

  • Communications: She needs to learn to do what the monkey does: tell me "I'm not okay" or "I'm in trouble" as soon as she realizes it. We already discovered one (digestive) problem that we took steps to correct (it was communicated to the monkey, who in turn made it clear to me). We've had other occurences where she spoke to my slavegirl before speaking to me about a problem.

  • Self confidence and self-esteem. We've already had a couple of fits where we've found her crying, feeling worthless or feeling like a failure.
    This is something the monkey took a LONG time learning.

  • Learning the protocol. This is going to sound major for those of you who don't understand it, but she's regularly cuddling up to me, rubbing her hands across my back, or taking my hand in her own. I've told her outright: "If you want affection, you can ask for it, and I'll give it to you. I care about you and have no problems showing it if you need it." She's also got the annoying habit of gawking at whatever it is I'm doing on-screen when she has her own tasks to be doing.

There's no shame in any of the above, mind -- it's behaviors she needs to learn, and it reminds me how far the monkey has come in this time.

*headdesk*

Dec. 12th, 2008 03:21 pm
topthemonkey: (Default)

(sighs) Per a text message, my fears were correct, I was right.

I don't know what happens next. I feel sick.

topthemonkey: (Default)

The monkey is out with X. You know, the guy who doesn't understand the word no, and who has repeatedly forced himself on her and that she maintains a friendship with. She's out with him alone, which was previously forbidden, but due to the short nature of the trip and the fact that "getting a group together" (i.e. anyone so they're not alone) would have been hard, I allowed her to see him, just this once.

Inside me there's a little voice that's telling me that something's going to happen once again: That she's going to fuck him, or go down on him, or something like that. Even though I've forbidden it. I feel like a terrible person for suspecting this, but I've been disappointed before.

I've worked very hard to express to the monkey that it's okay for her to express limits, and say no, and say when she can't handle something. I don't know that, if a situation came up, she'd be able to hold to those same limits with him. The bigger problem is...I feel like the monkey wants to do such things. It feels terrible to think I'm not enough (ignoring the fact that we're about to be visited by a potential Second Slavegirl).

I'm sitting in the city, at a job site. I'm ready to throw this laptop out a goddamned sixth story window.

And I'm feeling like a real jerk because I just bought her a little present near here this morning, and I'm anticipating how much she'll like it.

topthemonkey: (v)
The Top has been requesting for several days that I write an entry on recent events concerning flogging. I've started this entry many times, both in lj and in my notebook. There were a lot of aspects for me to process. This is an explanation of what a cathartic flogging is, as I imagine the term is new to many people reading this. I didn't really know either, though I had an instinctive idea of what it involved. There have been times, two years ago, when I was flogged and experienced a catharsis because of it.

The Master we're staying with was beating me with various devices and cathartic flogging came up. I agreed to do it. The Master explained to me that it was going to be an intense, spiritual experience and that we (both myself and the Top) had to trust him. I trust perhaps too easily, but I do not feel it is misplaced in him (the Master). He said he wouldn't let me down and he didn't.

I was facing the closet door with my feet flat on the floor and suspension cuffs holding me up. He (the Master we're staying with) had his slave put on music and he began to beat me with a long, heavy leather flogger.
The Top was watching, I know, though I couldn't see him. I knew this was going to be difficult for him, though in a different way than it was going to be difficult for me.
The Master explained that there was no "yellow" here only "red". He was going to keep flogging me until I had reached catharsis. He gave me a mantra to think and/or say. I don't remember exactly but it was that I wanted to go there (there being catharsis), I wanted him to take me there. He said throughout that I was in a safe place and it was safe to let go.

The beating lasted what felt like a long time. I had a lot of difficulty with the whole "letting go" part of it (what a shock). I hold a lot of pain in my body, a lot of trauma. It hurts less to hold it than to let it out. But with the cathartic flogging, I didn't really have a choice, which is part of why I wanted to do it.
The Master said that I fought him throughout it, which I recall. I struggled to maintain my grip on the cuffs (though they would hold me up fine even if I didn't) and to stay standing, even as I sobbed harder and slid farther down.
There are a lot of things that could have arisen during the flogging, but what came out was my father. Again, such a shock. I have a lot of trouble with issues surrounding my father because I feel like to let go would be to let him go.

But with the flogging, I didn't have much choice. The Master was going to keep going until I broke. Which, finally, I did. When I fell to my knees he pressed the panic snaps. The Top was there immediately, helping me to lie (lay?) down on my side. I was still crying. I couldn't sit up to drink but I needed water so the Top soaked a washcloth with my water bottle and let me suck on it. This was repeated until someone thought to wrap ice in the washcloth and have me suck on that. Sucking . . . is a primal, natural, comforting thing for me. That and the water helped a lot.

The Master's slave (and possibly the Master?) took off my cuffs and the slave rubbed my feet a bit and then petted my hair. I cried on and off, feeling weak and helpless and drained. I said that I wanted my Daddy, that he didn't love me anymore, that I couldn't lose him, over and over. The Top said what comforting things he could. It was strange to be having such a vulnerable moment in front of two near-strangers and not be at all self-conscious. Strange, but good.

When I finally stopped crying, we talked about what had happened, how I felt, etc. I didn't feel as "cleansed" and "light" as I expected to but I felt very relaxed. I think this is due to the fact that I have a lot of shit to get out, and that was only part of it. My upper back looks like I have a lot of purple freckles and the skin beneath my neck especially is rather tough.

I'm thankful to all those involved, whether they're reading this or not. I wouldn't want to repeat the experience every day, but I can see doing it at least once a month.
topthemonkey: (Default)
A few weeks ago, the monkey made mention of one of her past sexual partners. One whom she had cheated with on others before. I was unaware of this person (specifically, I was unaware that I knew them -- in reality I had met them on several occasions, but only knew them by face, not by name). I discovered this recently, when we again met face to face, and I was able to put the nickname with the face.

I later remarked that "I'd probably have no problem with you playing with xxxxxxx". Or something similar. It was off the cuff, and didn't have a lot of thought behind it. Saying such was a mistake on my part.

The monkey claims herself to be a sex addict. I am not qualified to diagnose whether this is true or not. She also claims her sex addiction to be tied to a self-harm addiction, since when she does such, it's often unprotected. I can see the logic in this, I suppose (although I can't condone it.)

So, three days after saying that, the monkey confessed to me that she had, since my assent, gone down on this person. I was pretty devastated. I was angry. I was hurt. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of dismissing the monkey -- doing so crossed my mind, but was not a serious consideration.

But I made the level of hurt and shock pretty clear.

Of late, I've been trying to get the monkey to take care of herself -- to do certain things each day, and/or week that are good for her. To eat well, to keep on track with her homework, to try to exercise herself, and since I've been relatively afraid of using pain as a motivator, I've simply told her that I'm stepping back slightly until she demonstrates an ability to do these things. Not having her stay with me *quite* as much (this is as much to allow me to focus on my own responsibilities, as it is to her).

So last night, as she knelt, nearly naked, before me, I questioned her.

"Have you done anything you aren't supposed to?"

"No."

"Have you gotten yourself off without permission?"

"Have I ever done that, Sir?"

*a brief touch of the cane* "Answer the question, Pet."

"No, sir."

Then it came up that she had committed a minor infraction: She had left her bulb-gag at home, and had *lost* her blindfold. For a while more, we did some play: her, in nothing more than a collar, on her hands and knees while I stood over her, holding her by the back of it so she couldn't drop out from under me, delivering a series of gentle strokes with the acrylic wand I have, until she tearfully called yellow, and I put the rod down.

She hates calling yellow. It makes her feel like a failure. She even apologized for it. I lovingly told her that I was proud of her for doing it, and that she should *never* be sorry for calling yellow (although in retrospect, there's the "I'm sorry I missed out on the activity I would have missed had the scene gone on" aspect, but I wouldn't call that "apologetic" so much as "regretful".

So, in the course of talking to her, that evening, after her interrogation, she confessed it to me: She had performed on him (gone down on) again, that evening. I told her, outright:

"The last time, I was 100 percent hurt and shocked. This time, I'm just 95 percent pissed off."

I told her that I felt like a complete ass for feeling bad about certain other things *I* had done wrong in the relationship, that I felt bad for being overly sensitive and overly cautious about her feelings and concerns instead of simply laying down the law (for example, when she felt uncomfortable when we had a third person sleeping with us, and she expressed concern so I sent the third party out without-question, or for the time when I was near-suicidal because I had pushed for sex when "I thought it was pretty clear I didn't want it", I felt silly for feeling guilty for having other people out in the wild, with collars I had given them, even when both they and I knew it was a platonic collar (yes, such a thing exists in my brain!).

I felt like an joke for having been *that* sensitive and concerned for her feelings over what amounted to simple mistakes, or innocent actions on my part, but that she was able to repeat-offend acts that she KNEW would hurt me.

She followed it up, teary-eyed, with another fun-fact.

"Afterwards, I masturbated."

That did it. I attached a padlock to the collar she was wearing, and told her to lay face-down on the bed. I fitted her with a ball-gag (not her favorite, but it's part of the punishment protocol), as well as putting her hands behind her back with a set of police cuffs (mainly because hard play makes her want to react violently, against herself).

I delivered five strokes to her ass. About as hard as I could do with the rod and wrist-action-only (putting my whole arm into it could have made it more painful). At the end of the five strokes, I held her, and whisperingly told her: "That was for lying. You've got more coming, but you've paid your penance for your dishonesty."

Another five strokes came, for her bringing herself off without permission, followed by a minute or two of cooldown.

Then, I had her switch positions, so she was laying perpendicular to me, with her head on my *left* (it had been on the right before), so I could take hold of her collar with my left hand.

"This is it, Pet. After this it's all over. But you're going to get ten -- five for the last time and five for this time, and they're going to be a little harder than the last ones were."

I delivered them, and they were hard.

Afterward, I checked her out, made sure she wasn't feeling any danger to herself, before removing her cuffs and gag. And I did feel a bit better. I let her know that any repeat performances of the things she had been punished for, would double the associated number of strokes as this time. As we went to sleep, I ordered her to go down on me. She did, without question. She swallowed, as well.

The next day, she thanked me for doing what had to be done. She said she's going to tell this person that she can't do this anymore, that she can't lie to me, and that if she continues doing this, she'll be hurt.

She's wandering around school today, still wearing a locked collar. I'd have made her do this anyway, as a reminder of who she belonged to, but she may get *slightly* fewer stares, considering it's Halloween and all. I almost made her wear the shock collar around her ankle (locked as well), but it's largely pointless as long as the batteries in it are dead (they'll be replaced, today) and as long as she's wearing jeans, since only she would see it anyway.

I believe I've built enough of an emotional connection with the monkey by now: I haven't "thrown her away" as she feared I might, but I am going to tighten my grip on her, start taking more control over her. There's still a tiny part of me that believes a tiny part of *her* did this to get me to react, but it's not going to be the kind of attention she wants. If I start seeing a trend in her doing things that earn her pain, I'll simply do other things to her: I know she wants her hair to grow out, and I can take that away, now that she's more reluctant to lose it (after all, it made sense to shave it in the summer, but we're a day away from november (some 80-degree october days we've had, notwithstanding)).

I've threatened as well, to have her tongue pierced (as while I can't fit her with an oral chastity device, it would be too painful to perform, orally, for a few weeks with that healing, and proper piercing care would warrant an almost obsessive-compulsive oral-hygiene habit that's not bad for a sub anyway). I may still do this, I'm not sure; If I do, she'll be dragged down to the piercing studio in *full* gear, on a leash.

She's not going to be permitted an orgasm for a while, either. I'm still debating whether I'll make her beg for it, or simply mentally add time onto her restriction if I see her begging. I know the Monkey will be reading this, so I'll let *her* figure that one out on her own.

But regardless of it all. I'm in love with a Space Monkey. And she will know love. Tough love, on occasion when warranted, but she will know it.

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