on playing with control

I’m on my way to the airport back to New York City from Seattle; the trip has been fantastic. I may post a few more guest treats tomorrow, but expect some writings of mine soon. Meanwhile, here’s something from lily on control and kink.

when i began playing with control, it was the ideas of being bound and hurt i liked. these were surrounded by a swirl of pleasing associations~ ribbons, bites on my skin, an underground of beautiful ones whose abuses heightened each other’s allure. what i had was sometimes like this, other times wonderfully improvised. a boy was begging to be gagged, and the closest fabric at hand was a washcloth- regardless of the tools, the emotional aspects were powerful. yeah, at times neither i nor the other knew the first thing about where this was going. we laughed, and made things up.

in the beginning i was the shy, the taken one. i’d enjoy certain pain and bondage, and the accompanying lust in my partner/s. then, after telling another these stories, it became apparent they wanted to be the tied one. they asked half with words and half with posture, and i took a deep breath and began to take control. it took a great deal of focus- i’m quiet, mostly, and unused to controlling circumstances. but when you’re intimate with someone, you can read their skin and face and cries to learn how they react to you. when someone loses conscious control, they can no longer play the social, kindly deceptive games people engage in together. they’re utterly honest- this was part of the appeal of topping, along of course with the sensuality of observing and drawing out lust-

and the giving and receiving of control. at some point, while being played with, i began to understand submission. i talked to someone who conflated passivity with submission, but these are quite different. submission is an active process, or it begins as one- to give someone control of you, you have to first gather this self-control. you have to trust the situation, give yourself to someone, and then- i suppose its like using an opponent’s chi against him, but this isn’t competitive. someone touches you, and in a submissive headspace you draw out the touch, move with it- if i can use a physics analogy, its like constructive interference. you move towards a peak or a well together.

i experienced submission first, and then its converse. it also takes a great deal of control over yourself to top someone and not only this, you must be strong enough and… have enough capacity… to hold them while they’re vulnerable and hurt. holding someone while they cry, or while you hit them in the face and growl abuses, takes understanding as well. you must be responding to their headspace every moment, not your own lust. you can’t become carried away, because guiding someone near their edges is tricky. you must be very aware, and connected.

being brought to my limits, and bringing others, shows me things i take into the rest of my life. playing with control, whichever side you are on- opens you up, brings you strength and self-awareness. you find not just edges, but centers. you’re left sometimes strong and immense, feeling able enough to cradle the entire world like a baby; at other times fragile and needing to be held. either way, the aftermath is delicately intimate. sweetness is at the end of all things, especially the cruel ones.

miss scarlett in the library

another lovely piece from tongue-tied blue … thank you for being my guest!miss scarlett in the library

spent, breathless
and rosy red
she laid across my lap
on that welcoming sofa
her lovely black lacy panties
twisted at her knees
her slinky skirt up around her waist
and her supple comeliness
presented exactly so
spent, breathless
and rosy red

::: contented sigh :::

moments before
she had been writhing at the end
of my insistent fingertip
gasping, sweating, gurgling
my other hand alternating between
strikes of varying speed & intensity
and then pressing down her lower back
accentuating that eager curve
that hungry opening

before that, there was a point
where the words erupted from me
they always do
where i’m coaxing her along my story line
tonguing honey and pepper into her
part of me listening along
we heard together
“i’ve never stopped wanting you”
and the air in the room sucked in
my ears popped
and i became only aware of the finer quality
the delicate threads weaving
and the nobler, the enduring spilling
spilling, the tears were right there
was she going to cry or come?
or both?
in that ethereal moment
was i?

even earlier, years before now
a rain forest of an afternoon
twilit and hot and green and raining and still
when i first took her up in my arms
when i gave in and really held her
the way she needed holding
the way i needed to hold her
when i looked down into her naked, nervous eyes
and said, “god, i want you”
as much as a surprise to me
as to her

the arc of surrender
finds no endpoint
only mileposts

against the door frame

I’m still in Seattle for one more day … meanwhile, here is a great piece from tongue-tied blue. Thank you!

against the door frame

space holding wonderland
my tongue tied blue
trying to out-dream in the front of my head
the suspicious lizard stem at the rear
the skull fulcrums, spins there

on my left hand i smell her still
her coming flash powder burned
brilliant into my breasts
my belly, my thighs, my ears
my heart
my kidneys are still astonished

the lizard licks her lips
her eyes and
the sweat that ran down

i never knew i could be
so rapt wide-eyed, secret door
surprise present
gratefully me