Nice?

Yesterday, my dear friend Sin began calling me “nice.”

i protest.  

i’m not “nice.”  Not that nice anyhow!

But she did it again.  She called me “Aisha the always nice…” right here on my own blog!

She and i have had this argument before.   It makes me want to stomp my feet and huff, “i am NOT nice!”

Laughing…

And isn’t that interesting?

Why am i offended by being called nice?

Don’t misunderstand me ~ hear these things clearly:

~  Sin is doing it now cause she knows it’s driving me crazy.

~ It amuses me that it drives me crazy to be called nice.

~ i would say that she’s mean, but she’d like it too much.  i won’t give her the satisfaction.

~  i love Sin anyhow.  {Take that, Sin!  Mwhahahahahahaha}

i find myself wanting to prove that i’m mean too.  i am!  {foot stomp!}

Then i looked up “nice” in the on-line dictionary.  It says:

a : showing fastidious or finicky tastes : particular <too nice a palate to enjoy junk food

b : exacting in requirements or standards : punctilious <a nice code of honor>

3   possessing, marked by, or demanding great or excessive precision and delicacy <nice measurements>

4  obsolete : trivial

5
a : pleasing, agreeable <a nice time> <a nice person>
b : well-executed <nice shot>
c : appropriate, fitting <not a nice word for a formal occasion>

6
a : socially acceptable : well-bred <from a nice family>
b : virtuous, respectable <was taught that nice girls don’t do that>

7: polite, kind <that’s nice of you to say>

BUT ~ the Meriam-Webster on-line dictionary provides this as the number 1 definition of nice {even though it’s obsolete}

a : wanton, dissolute
b : coy, reticent

With all those definitions to choose from, i pick “wanton, dissolute.”  Yes, i certainly am.

Thanks, Sin.

If you’re going to leave a comment on this post, here are the rules for today.

1.   If you tell me i’m nice, unless you’re clear that you mean “wanton, dissolute,” you’re going to offend me.  NONE of those other definitions apply to me.

2.  If you say that Sin’s being mean to keep calling me nice, you will make her happy and disappoint me.  

Of course, you don’t have to follow the rules, but it’s helpful to know what they are.  So please choose your words carefully.

Thanks!  🙂

aisha the nice  wanton, dissolute.

Watching Porn

When He came over Wednesday night, He brought some porn with Him.  Short clips of different things.

After the caning, and after dinner, we watched some.  i don’t have negative feelings about watching porn, although i don’t like everything i see.  

i don’t like extremes.

Spanking clips are good.  A little bondage.  

There was one i liked except she had a ball gag in her mouth and the drool was disgusting.  Really.  i’ve never experienced a ball gag ~ surely it was exaggerated for the movie’s purpose?  i don’t know.  {Shudder…}  i mean, i know you drool when you’re gagged, but surely not like this.  Like you could have taken a bath in this.  It was gross.

Anyhow.

There was one i liked a lot, a kind of amateur one, that involved submission.  It was simple and almost sweet.  i could empathize with the woman and it seemed like something i’d like.  Just a cock worship scene with some gentle dominance.

But it was a little disconcerting, because while i was watching the porn, He was watching me.

So it would get to a good part, or a bad part, or a good bad part, and i’d turn to look at Him.   And He’d already be looking at me.

He said that was why He wanted to watch with me, it was so He could see my reactions, and try to gauge things i might like.  He said even watching me, it’s still hard to tell sometimes.

He says the expression on my face is very similar when i’m responding to something positively and when i’m having a strong negative reaction, that sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

i thought that was interesting.

When we were tired of watching movie clips, we had our own little scene, which was pretty wonderful.  Then, when i was all stirred up and thinking my relief was in sight, He says,

“I don’t usually do this, but i’m going to leave you in a state of desire tonight.  And i don’t want you to do anything to relieve it, no cumming, tonight.”

i was shocked, because He’s never done that before.

Shocked and turned on.

{Sigh}

And delighted to obey my Sir’s wishes.  Of course.  Good girl that i am…

Focused

Last night, Sir came over.

i was a little anxious, i had been fretting a little earlier that day.  i had not been able to reach Him and i’d gotten anxious, not reasonably anxious, but out of proportion anxious. i had emailed Him, half-laughing, half-serious, and then texted a couple of times.

It was unwarranted anxiety, and i knew it at the time.  Now ~

When He gets out of the car, i notice He has his computer bag and something else in His hand.  It looks like one of His canes.

And it is.

When He gets to the door, i hug Him, wrap my arms around Him, and He hugs me back.

Then He disentangles Himself from my hug.  He puts His hand on the back of my neck, and turns me so i’m facing away from Him.

“Come on,” He says, “Let’s find a good place to do this.”

He moves me down the hallway.  “Your bedroom,” He says,  “That’s a good place.”

At the foot of the bed, His hand still on the back of my neck, He firmly presses until i bend, face down, over the bed.

He pulls my skirt up, and my panties down.

“Twenty-five,” He says.  “I think that’s a good number.  Don’t you?

i am slow to respond, so He prompts me, “Say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ that’s the right answer,” and 

i say it then, hastily, “Yes, Sir!” although i’m thinking that is a lot. Twenty-five with the cane?  Can i do that?

But we are only to Four when i feel it happen.

My shoulders relax, my back muscles let go.  i sink into the bed a little more.

i quit holding my breath, and open to the feelings.

When he finishes ~ and He has not hit me very hard, but each stroke stings a little more than the one before it, so the last one makes me gasp and whimper ~ but when he finishes, and i am standing up again, i sigh with relief and laugh a little.

He looks at me quizzically, “You’re laughing?”  And He’s smiling a little.  “Why are you laughing?”

But i can’t tell Him, i don’t know why.

“Well,” He says, “That was to help you focus.  Do you feel focused now?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and it’s true.  My mind is clear and i feel wonderful.

  i pause, then, “Thank you, Sir,” i say.

“Well.”  He nods.  Let’s eat dinner now.”  And we do.

A Little More

After reading the wonderful comments on these last couple of posts, i think that Jung was definitely right.  We don’t lose that “child”  or “adolescent” aspect of ourselves, we just layer over it.

It seems like D/s allows many of us to get in touch with that vulnerability and feeling of safety and security, regardless of whether we had that in childhood or not.   And regardless of whether we identify as a Little or not, there seems to be a connection that goes deep into who we are.

i think “being a Little” formalizes the opportunity to embrace the younger parts of our selves.  That’s pretty cool.

i’ve finally started reading Women Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything, by Geneen Roth.   {Fabulous book, yes you should read it.}  She says:

“Can you remember a time, perhaps when you were very young, when life as it was – just the fact that it was early morning or any old day in summer – was enough?  When you were enough – not because of what you looked like or what you did, but just because everything was the way it was.”  (p. 33-34)

And i thought, um, no, i can’t.  

So i thought back some more.  

Nope.

i can remember being happy some of the time when i was a child.  The summer when i was eight and my best friend and i spent the whole summer outdoors, climbing trees and talking.  Leaving the house early in the morning.  Running back in with a pack of friends to get a glass of water for everyone ~ usually just as my mother had finished doing the dishes.

i cannot remember a time, ever, when the adults in my life did not want me to be more than i was.  To perform better, at a higher level, more consistently.  To learn more, do more, achieve more.

i was not abused as a child, not physically, and not sexually.   {i have experienced abuse, but not until i was 11 or 12 and not by family members.}  But i have no memory of having “been enough.”

And always, always, i couldn’t wait to be grown.  i hated being a child.  i felt powerless and i couldn’t wait to get it over with so my real life could begin.

So i wonder ~ how does that affect the “Little” aspect of who i am?

Lingering with the Littles

i was a  little overwhelmed last night.  It’s funny, when i was thinking about it this morning, it seems like most of the things that felt overwhelming were actually positive.  

That makes no sense at all.  But it’s true.

Anyhow, i went to the grocery after work and was just all out of sorts and almost on the verge of tears.  When i got home, i emailed Sir X about how i was feeling, and started eating dinner.  He’s been working so much, i didn’t even know if He’d check email last night or not.  

But i wasn’t halfway through with my sushi (which i bought ready-made at the grocery, with brown rice, cause it’s healthier) when He texted me.  And a few texts later he says: “I’m coming for a visit.  ETA in 30 minutes.”

i was so glad, my heart just sighed with relief. 

He said partly He came because He wanted to see what i was like when i’m like that.  i didn’t care why He came over, i was just glad He did.

We talked, and He held me, and stroked and petted me, o, and there might have been some serious nipple pinching too, which was more than all right with me.  

Before He left, i asked Him to tuck me in bed, and He did, pulling the sheet and the quilt up over me, so i was all safe and cozy in my bed.  He kissed me one last time, and i curled up on my side and sighed happily.

And i thought about Littles.

i was born old, i think i have an old soul, and i couldn’t wait to be grown-up.  i don’t remember getting tucked in, although i would bet my mother did it, at least up to some age.  

When i get babied, taken care of like i did last night, not just getting tucked in, but feeling like i can depend on someone else ~ when that happens it touches some part of me that i usually keep tucked away.  It opens me.

i don’t think that “makes me a Little,” but it adds an element of vulnerability and reliance on another that {for me} feels child-like.  It’s a deeply touching experience.  And that helps me open my mind to the possibility that there’s a Little aspect lurking inside me.

Probably not eager to Build-a-Bear, but maybe wanting to go to the zoo.

The comments on yesterday’s post are so interesting ~ and amazingly beautiful.  i can’t tell you how much i appreciate you sharing your thoughts and experience with me.  i’m planning to take my time answering each one. 

i wonder if there are other people who are still pondering this ~ as i am.  So i’ll linger on this topic, at least for today, and i invite you again to voice your thoughts…  

How do you see all this?  Do you identify as a Little?   If not, is there an aspect of “Little” that you recognize in yourself?

“Littles”

Yesterday was the fourth Sunday munch, but before that there was a gathering in an upstairs room at a pizza place.  {Sounds a little shady already, doesn’t it?  laughing…}

It was an unusual gathering.  We’re in the middle of what we call “March Madness” and the whole state is glued to the TV and basketball games.  We, however, were gathered, about 25 of us, to hear Sir Charles and slave Jacki do a presentation on their relationship.

At the end of April, they’ll be going to Beyond Leather, a huge, wonderful kink event in Ft. Lauderdale.  Beyond Leather is run by Sir Top and slave bonnie, who presented at COPE.  i wrote about their presentations and how i got to meet and talk with them when i was all-by-myself and they graciously invited me to join them at lunch.  i wanted very, very much to go to the event, but can’t do it this year. 

Here’s a link to it, in case you can go, or if you just want to read about it and wish.  http://www.beyondleather.net/

Anyhow.  Sir Charles and Jacki are entering the Power Exchange contest there.  Ms. Constance describes it like this:

“The International Power Exchange contest is designed to include pairs of people who have been involved in a power exchange dynamic for at least one year that aren’t normally included in other large event contests. It doesn’t matter if you identify as Owner and property, Daddy/Mommy and boi/boy/girl, Handler and puppy, Dominant and submissive, etc… you are eligible to compete at this new contest.”

So, jacki is Sir Charles’ slave, and she’s “a Little.”  They’re refining a presentation about Littles,  and what it’s like to have a power exchange relationship that includes that dynamic.

It was fascinating.  They’re excellent speakers, and it’s an interesting dynamic.  

You know, Carl Jung, the psychologist, believed that we don’t really shed developmental stages, we just accumulate new layers.  So our “child,” “adolescent,” “young adult”  those archetypes and others are still present within us.

It seems to me that Littles tap into that psychic energy and  let those inner selves come out to play.  Literally.

They may bring their coloring books to events.   Wear their hair in pigtails and suck on lollipops.  Where-i-live, we have events for them.  Easter egg hunts.  Trips to the zoo, or bowling alley.

It’s always kind of amused me, in a distant kind of way.  i’m not a Little.  Well, at least i don’t think i am.

So when i was at the SIGS discussion last week, they were talking about going to Build-a-Bear, which is apparently “a thing.”  Here’s a link to it:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Build-A-Bear_Workshop

{When the Littles were all talking about going,  K kept saying she thought it was a form of taxidermy, which made me say ~ “NOPE ~ Chuck Testa!”  Only one other person “got it,” but he and i cracked up.}

 Youall know the Chuck Testa commercial, right?  If not;

http://youtu.be/LJP1DphOWPs

Omigosh, i am just overwhelming you with links today…  and the best is yet to come.

slave jacki and Sir Charles were at the South Plains Leatherfest, and competed for the Master/slave title there.  Here’s a link to slave jacki’s presentation.  http://www.leatherati.com/leatherati/2012/03/south-plains-leatherfest-2012.html

You have to scroll down to the video labelled “Great Lakes Master.”   It’s a beautiful presentation.

And it made me start thinking about Littles, thinking about it beyond smiling indulgently when i notice they’re around.  And i wonder ~ i don’t hear many of my blogger friends talking about being a Little.  i know one slave who’s also a Little, and some of you have Doms with some degree of “Daddy.”  But i don’t know more about how this works for you all.

March is Question and Answer month – only now i’m asking – any Littles out there?  How does it work for you?  Leave me a comment, link to your blog, or email me ~ aisha.hisservant@gmail.com.

In the meantime, here are some pictures of the beautiful bears that some of the Littles here made recently.  Caile was kind enough to share them with me:

 

And here is Caile’s “bear” which is actually a bunny:

i have to admit they’re kind of cute.  Even if i do scoff at the whole thing just a little.  You know, “only in America….” but i say it indulgently.

And i’m curious to hear your thoughts on it all!

Commercials

At a presentation by Sir Charles and slave jacki, when someone referenced a commercial – one of the Direct TV ones. And I GOT IT!!!

Only because Sir had me look it on-line today…. ;-). /em>

His Body

i wake in the night

and feel Him beside me.

His skin pressed to mine,

warm and smooth.

He wraps around me,

His arm over my waist, 

snuggling close, our legs coil together,

my ass presses against Him. 

my back curves against His chest. 

i stir just enough to press myself

a little deeper into His embrace, 

wiggling my ass against Him.

With a happy purr,

i fall back asleep

********************************************

And the sun was shining in through the mini-blinds before i actually rolled out of bed this morning!  Don’t remember the last time that happened…  🙂

 

Sacred Space

“Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.”
― Joseph Campbell

Who knew that the pages of a kinky sex blog could be sacred space?

It’s jail on-call week, so predictably,  i’m a little blue.  And Sir has been so busy that i get little snippets of responses to my email, which  makes me want to withdraw, even though i know that’s not reasonable.  Particularly since i have unanswered email in my mailbox right now, just for lack of time.

Sir and i are going out tonight, so i’m excited about that.  

And it’s not big-coat season anymore for my volunteer gig ~ that’s pretty darn exciting.

And my vanilla life is getting ready to change in leaps and bounds.

“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.”
― Joseph Campbell

More on a Kinky Night

Hands tied together, arms pulled above my head and fastened to the ‘over-the-door’ device He rigs in my doorway…

… i am wearing a crotch rope

and my feet are tied together.

My nipples are clamped, the chain between them feels heavy.

i lean into the door.  “Ass out,” He says and i tilt, pushing out, feeling the crotch rope rub between my ass cheeks, between my pussy lips, already wet…

He moves away to get ~ to get whatever He’s getting i don’t know what, but “Don’t go anywhere,” He says, and i can feel Him smile.

It is the flogger.  He starts with the flogger.  

Warming me up, the flogger, then His hand.  i cannot move, and the crotch rope is there, putting pressure on my most sensitive spots, making me whimper,

with pleasure and pain

as He switches to the rope, the thin stingy rope that makes me gasp, and if i move, the chain between the nipple clamps swings a little, 

and then it is something else, i don’t know what it is, it hurts but not too much, and then ~

i feel the caress of the cane, He lays it across my ass, marking where it will land, and i hold my breath ~

as it swishes through the air, that clean, clear cutting sound, right before it bites into my skin…

and i inhale sharply.

Yikes.

There are more, some softer, some harder, i lose track, and then He switches to the canes, there are three of them bundled together ~~

and i have lost if that is more intense or less intense, it hurts, it hurts ~ ah, mmmmpf, yikes, the nipple clamps, the crotch rope are forgotten and then He says ~

~referring to a conversation i barely remember ~

He says, “I don’t have a paddle, but i do have this wooden spoon.”

And i feel it, the hard, round smoothness, as He caresses my ass, the back of my thighs, with it.

He puts one hand on my left nipple, which shifts my attention to the nipple clamps and i whimper cause i know it’s going to be bad, when it’s really bad, He touches my nipple at the same time, which turns me on and warns me and then ~

omg, omg, omg ~ the spoon lands, and the sensation ripples out and i gasp.  His hand on my nipple tightens, and the rush of pleasure and pain is almost overwhelming.  

Again ~ He does it again, i don’t know how many times, squeezing my nipple each time, and i can’t move at all, my hands press against the door, my feet tied together, i cannot escape the blows or the pressure of the rope between my swollen pussy lips, or the clamps tugging on my already sensitive, hard nipples…

And i realize, yes, i am happy.  Right now, this is exactly where i want to be.