topthemonkey

The Monkey has been struggling with "freak out" attacks for as long as I've known her. These are times when she'll scream, and then start hurting herself, attempting to bite herself, or hitting her leg or her head or some inanimate object. There are weeks our of the month when this is a more likely occurence, mainly before her period starts.

Handling this behavior is somewhat of a challenge to me. I usually do the worst possible thing in response to this: I fight her, or yell at her, or tell her to "shut up". These things don't help, but I can't maintain rational behavior when I have someone screaming in my ear. Sorry. I don't think that's an unreasonable expectation.

Today, she missed a train to go see her girlfriend. And screaming ensued. I told her, in the spur of the moment "okay, now you're not going at all." I said it because I didn't want to feel like I was rewarding this behavior, and because I was angry that such a beyond-her-control thing could cause this.

I tried to take her phone away. She cursed at me (a common one is "fuck you"), she threatened to bite me, and she cried a lot after that. I got out of the car, walked around to her side, wiped her tears, and held her, and we worked out a plan to recover from a missed train.

And within a half hour, she was remorseful, and just felt more terrible about herself for having done and said those things.

I hate this. I hate that there's something inside her so broken that this is the default action. The fact that she screams in her sleep seems to suggest it's a "hardwired" behavior, not something conscious. I hate that the drugs she's been assigned for this basically knock her unconscious for 8 hours. I feel as though it's the action of some spoiled child who can't get their way: except instead of not getting her way from the parent, her unconscious expresses this frustation at someone to whom screaming at will not help. Screaming at me will not make the train stop, it won't help her find the bra you can't find, and it won't fix her back problems. Neither will hitting herself, the interior of my car, or me.

Worse still is that she's been warning me of this. "If I feel the need to smash something, don't worry, it won't be your laptop". The best I can relate it, I suppose, is to Tourettes Syndrome. (I went to a High School that had a program specializing in it). One of my friends who had it explained their tics as "I know it's coming, and I can delay it, or hold it back, but it actually hurts to do it". That is, knowing it's coming doesn't mean you can stop it. Just because it's exploding slowly doesn't mean it's not exploding.

It saddens me that she does this around me because she feels safe enough to do so. Her girlfriend has never seen her like this. She doesn't (generally) do it in public places, or crowds. Just when she's with me. Should I feel privileged?

I think the best/only things I can do here, sadly, are preventative:

• If you can't make a train with 20-30 minutes TO SPARE, you're not making it. You don't know if I might have to stop for gas or have trouble with the car. You can't predict when you'll lose something and we'll have to go back upstairs for it.

• Need to develop a better meditative/relaxation technique. Yoga, breathing, stressball you carry everywhere...anything.

• You can clearly recognize when is the worst time for this. You know when a storm is brewing, how can we work with that? Can you go somewhere, alone, and do it, and get it out? Scream into a pillow? Tear up a phone book?

I've got a pounding headache and it's 2:30 AM. I'm still at work. The monkey is off with her girl. And even despite writing all this, I don't feel totally calmed down.

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.

Neither of us posted about it, but I bit the bullet and made an appointment with a therapist. It's later today, in San Francisco. It took a lot for me to do that.

I've only been to San Francisco a couple of times, I've only taken public transportation there once when we first moved here, and I've become a lot more anxious about, well, doing stuff independently I guess. Since before the Top and I got together but it's increased a lot with him.

So as is totally not unusual for me I wrote out very carefully what buses and trains I would have to take, how long the rides were, departure and arrival times, alternate times in case I was early or late, fare costs, and walking directions when necessary. I figured I was going to have to walk from the Top's work to the bus station to get going on the first leg of the trip, and getting there would take an hour and a half. Getting back would take more like two. All of this took some times. I was told the Top wouldn't have a car, so I couldn't count on a ride to a train station to eliminate at least one bus portion of the trip.

The Top comes home yesterday and tells me that not only does he have a car but for work he's going to have to be in San Francisco (though not near my therapist) so I can just take one short train ride to my therapist.

I . . . was upset. The Top did not understand, as he saw this as making life easier for me. And, yes, in the long-term (shorter long-term?) it does. But immediately it means I have to throw out the pages of painstaking directions I made and start all over again. A lot of effort wasted.  I realize that the situation changed, new information was received, etc. But I really hate changing plans last minute, especially when I've planned it all out so thoroughly.

I emotionally prepare myself for things to go a certain way. This gives me a sense of confidence and stability, when I'm so thoroughly dependent on the Top and incredibly anxious about going farther than the driveway by myself.

OK, now the Top tells me that he will be leaving San Francisco far before I will be done with therapy. He's had this information all along. I guess he figured it would be obvious to me. I'm really glad he told me this before we got going and I left the return directions at home, leaving me to figure out a two hour trip involving two buses and a train without schedules or anything.

The Top has admitted that he "flies by the seat of his pants," changes plans last minute all the time, and enjoys this. I do not enjoy these things, for the previously stated reasons. The Top does not seem to understand this. The change in plans make the trip there shorter, cheaper, and easier for me. He told me I could go in the way I planned, which would be sort of ridiculous.

This time the last-minute change in plans is not his fault, I know. I don't mean to blame him. It's just distressing to me.

I have been trying to explain to the Top for months that I need to be seeing a therapist in-person at least once a week. I've tried to explain that this is crucial for my mental health, that I'm depressed and lonely. I've researched therapists that are nearby, ones that are in his health plan. He's said that we can't really afford it right now. I've accepted that.

The Top has been trying to punish me into taking care of myself. You cannot punish depression out of someone. I mean, it's an additional motivation to take care of myself, yeah. But mental illness is strong and deep-seated.

Tonight he decided I need to see a therapist because I'm not getting better. He's been working a lot since we moved here, but he's just noticing this now? It wasn't clear from all the times I explicitly said "I'm not getting better, I need help"? He feels badly for not being able to "fix" me himself. I am not a thing to be fixed. He says he can't take this anymore, can't take a slave who doesn't care properly for herself (and therefore her Master's property).

On the one hand, finally I can get some fucking help with this shit. On the other hand, why didn't we have this conversation months ago? I feel hurt that addressing my mental health issues on a deeper level is only a priority when he decides it affects him sufficiently.

I don't like being made to wear a diaper. It traps heat liek whoa, it's bulky and uncomfortable. Maybe for a scene once in awhile, but not for long-term. It's also very difficult for me to, y'know, "go" in a diaper. I'm told with practice you can overcome that but I don't  have enough interest to work on it.

I have to wear one until tomorrow, because I didn't shower this morning after I got up. This is a new punishment. I thought about ignoring it (the Top is at work and not here to make me) and just taking whatever he gave me later, like a beating, but quickly decided against it.


I can't see the new therapist anymore because of money. Have to find a new one, that I can't see for at least a few weeks anyway.


I'm back to where I was nearly two years ago, not eating because I'm too scared to go downstairs because I don't want to interact with other people there. At least, not without the Top there with me.

As I've mentioned several times before, I often crave more (dare I say it?) micromanagement, more frequent play, more structure. I'm going to focus on the last one for the moment. I think this is common for slaves/submissives/bottoms (which I am), that they thrive with structure. I think structure also really helps people who have mental illnesses, particularly clinical depression (which I do). But at the same time, I wonder if my craving for more structure is really something else,

I know that what I need from a long-term, serious partner intimidates a lot of people. I don't want to call myself high-maintenance, but it takes a lot of work to make a Master/slave relationship work on a daily basis, and it can be a lot of work to care for a partner who has severe depression. I often feel guilty because of these things, though I know the Top is well aware of them and has committed to me nonetheless.

I worry that I want the surrender of slavery because I want to escape from responsibilities; that this is amplifying the problems my depression causes and not helping to solve them.


Structure is incredibly useful for persons suffering with depression. Setting clear, attainable daily tasks (even if your dynamic is long distance) can do a lot to keep a depressed mood from becoming inability to get out of bed. . . Simple, everyday tasks can be easier to tolerate if they're turned into power dynamic chores, rather than just one more thing they have to try to manage on their own.

When Your Submissive Has Major Depressive Disorder


Andre still occasionally cherishes the idea that all his problems could be solved with the application of enough structure, rules, and stern management on my part -- in other words, that I could force him out of his mood problems. I've learned, though, that this is not possible. You can't beat someone out of chemical illness. You can't micromanage them out of it. Some things are beyond the control of dominants.

In and Out of the Black Pit


I worry that the Top thinks this:

I was afraid that her submissive nature was born of her sordid past, and her submission to me was out of fear of abandonment. Although I was madly in love with this woman, I had to make sure she was in the relationship for me, and not out of habit.

Patience, Young Grasshopper... or hang on for the ride.


And still, I feel this:

I still feel so selfish and needy and greedy and awful. Because he gives me so much and here I am, asking for even more. But my mental/emotional health improves drastically if I am getting frequent orgasms, if I'm getting regular bdsm play.

I wonder if sometimes when I lash out, at the Top or myself, it's really just because I need to be hurt. I need to be bound tightly and beaten. And maybe, when I lash out during play, I need to be pushed through. I don't know.

And still, there's something inside me that feels so unsatisfied, such a deep longing.

on having needs

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.

I feel kind of exasperated lately. The Top doesn't want me to have a license or a car, but he doesn't want to have to take hours off from work every week to drive me to doctor's appointments.

I'm starting to feel guilty about them, but I don't really have a choice, which is good.

At home, well, at my family's house, I would feel guilty about my doctor's appointments because of money so I just stopped making appointments. That was bad.

I miss the Top. I feel like I almost never see him, that he's always working. Even when he's home he's working. I know it's the nature of his job and his personality. But I fantasize about him coming home at 5 or 6 and not doing any work until when he wakes up the next day.

I've now seen both my new psychiatrist and therapist. The former I found through the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom's Kink-Aware Professional Database. The therapist was recommended in turn by the psychiatrist and though she's not in the database, she should be. I'm immensely pleased with both of them.


For the first time in many weeks (months?) I went down on the Top and he finished in my mouth.

I've been rather gun-shy about this act ever since I puked on his dick when trying desperately to swallow.
But this went much better.

He held my head down and had me on a leash, which he pulled; both of these things really help me get into it.

My jaw didn't bother me at all, thankfully. I've been using a device to stop my grinding at night, which has helped.

Ever since he stopped drinking coffee, the Top's semen has tasted vastly less foul. Hardly foul at all, in fact.
I was downloading some of Violet Blue's podcasts and came across this, which I'd like to try. Or rather, I'd like the Top to try it. Right now I'm menstruating and no amount of fruit smoothie is going to make menstrual blood taste yummy.

As per the directions in the podcast, here are the ingredients for the Super Spunk Smoothie (it works with all genders) -- drink for three days and avoid the things I mention in the podcast, though skipping asparagus is a no-brainer...

Super Spunk Smoothie
1 cup pineapple, fresh, canned or juice
1 cup mango juice
1 banana
1/2 cucumber, peeled and seeded
1/2 tsp fresh ginger
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbs honey

Blend all ingredients in a blender until smooth. Drink immediately. Repeat daily (and perform your own scientific oral sex taste tests) for best results!