I've been missing. Luckily it isn't my health this time. I've just been busy starting a business. You don't know hard work and time commitment until you start a business, believe me. For the most part, my products are mainstream, but I am starting a line of kinky items that I may put out there for sale at some point. When that happens, you'll know it!
Anyway, it would seem everyone else is either busy or missing in action somewhere. Mistress is busy with Roller Derby, Ms. Reina moved across country recently, and just about everyone else has evaporated at least temporarily. Stormy and I are spending what time we can together, but not a lot of pony play is happening.
Boo.
But there are plans. I'm hoping the Flea will be a bit better this year. Everyone was talking about how much they missed the ponies last year, so there should be some support for a paddock this time around. It kind of depends on Mistress at this point.
Nudge nudge...
Stormy and I are planning on Camp next May. It has been two years and enough is enough! Time to have some fun. I'll keep all of you posted on what happens next on that. And if our determination pays off, you'll get those stories as well.
In the meantime, keep an eye out here to see what I'm making in the way of kinky toys. If you don't want to wait, you can check out my FetLife page. Look for PonyboyRusty and friend me if you want! The more, the merrier.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Submission
I start the evening in a chair but it isn't going well. I feel fine, but I'm tired and I keep dozing off. That's generally not a good idea at this sort of party, but I can't help it. She is sitting next to me on the sofa and notices my "inattention." We had talked that afternoon and from the tenor of the conversation it was clear that we were going to end up scening. But I never know what form that will take, which is part of the fun of it. Still, dozing off is probably not in the cards or even acceptable.
She suddenly reaches over and yanks on my pony tail. The one on my head, that is. I'm not in pony gear this evening. It's not that sort of get together and I'm not with my Mistress. I haven't had quality time with Her in ages for various reasons, and I miss Her terribly. Still, I observe the rules and don't play pony unless She is there or I have Her express permission. I didn't seek it for this evening because I didn't need it. I can do dungeon play at will. I'm a big boy.
The tail pull brings me around quickly. Suddenly I am wide awake and apologetic. She is understanding and asks if I would like to put my head in her lap for a while. I can't do that without upending myself, so I sit on the floor and put my head on Her knee. For what seems like hours, she sits there and gently strokes my hair. I may nod off from time to time, but I sense and feel Her presence. At turns, it's reassuring and unnerving. At this moment, I am Her property to do with as She pleases within the bounds of our negotiations (and those are pretty permissive). These gentle ministrations may be just that or She may be lulling me into a false sense of security.
Either way, what bliss!
I have watched Her play with another. She will sit and look idly about the room watching other play scenes or talking to people while Her sub sits next to her or on the floor in front of her quietly. Suddenly there is a bellow of pain and the sub is writhing about in an effort to adjust to the pain she is undergoing. I have never been able to see what was causing the pain. Whatever it was, it was subtle.
Tonight, I find out. We have had some food to eat and one of the plastic utensils has been called into service. She has broken off a length of the handle and now secrets it in Her hand. She reaches over and takes my hand in Hers, gently massaging it. I feel lulled again. Briefly. Then the business end of the broken plastic handle is suddenly jammed into the web of my thumb.
Now I'm the sub who is bellowing out in pain. The jab ends almost immediately and the massaging continues. Then the plastic handle finds its mark between two fingers. I howl again and instinctively try to pull my arm away from the source of my torment. Trouble is, She is stronger than I am. She is also an artist at making certain that any attempt to escape will hurt even more.
So here is the predicament. It hurts to remain still and it hurts even more to pull away. And I can't get away anyway.
She releases my hand and I have a look. Lots of marks, but no broken skin. It's amazing how much pain you can endure without ever crossing a hard limit.
She pulls my pant leg up a bit and starts using the sharp plastic to scratch my lower leg. This results in more cries of pain and struggles to pull away from the source. Again, attempted escape just makes it worse. But lying there and just letting it happen isn't an option that my body is willing to consider. I think that's a good thing. The struggle seems to be as much fun for Her as anything. Watching a sub in a predicament like this can be very entertaining.
I notice that others in the room have tuned in to watch. That is how I draw the conclusion.
"Why don't you take off your pants?" She asks. I have played with this Domme enough times to know that She is not being contemplative. She is issuing a command. Take your pants off. I do.
I am wearing flannel lined jeans this evening and the room is warm. I have also been struggling and under some stress for some time by now, so my legs have a thin sheen of perspiration on them. No matter. Before long, they also have some handsome scratch marks all over them. She has a fondness for scratching. I'm not crazy about it, but I have never told Her that She can't do it. So what does that say about me? Duh!
Gradually She works Her way down to my feet. The plastic handle finds its mark between a few toes with the predictable result. But then She gets another idea. I almost wish that She had stayed with the plastic handle.
If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that my feet are terribly ticklish. I mean violently so. If you want to tickle my feet, you had better have either the strength of ten men or a willingness to get badly bruised up.
She had the strength thing going for Her. She tickled my feet unmercifully until I about turned blue from laughing. She allowed me to rest for a short time and then She was at it again. I contorted and twisted myself in any way I thought would get me away from the torment, but to no avail. I don't know if it was frustration or just a desire to 'do something' about my situation, but I was inspired to shout, "Why can't you just tie me up and flog me?!?"
Laughter all around. Actually, I really was making light of the situation. She laughed harder than anyone else in the room. Really, in the end, it's entertainment. So why not put some effort into being entertaining?
What came to be known as Round 1 ended with me in complete shambles across Her lap. I was scratched up from my toes to my groin. I was a sweaty mess, and I was breathing as though I had just run the one minute mile. Then She gathered me into Her arms for a few minutes to bring me back down to Earth.
Her aftercare is second to none. I mean that. As I sat there, my head held in Her arms, She stroked my hair and told me what a wonderful pony I was. True, we weren't playing pony at the time, but that is the context in which She sees me at times like this, and I love it. But She doesn't just complement me. She leads me on a guided meditation to a meadow that She designed just for me. She turns me loose to run all I want to. Under Her gentle suggestion, I feel the warm sun on my face (no small deal given the harsh winter we have had) and the warm breeze in my mane. She lets me live in this reality for as long as I want before gently letting me wake up and open my eyes. Then She finds me some water and sits quietly with me.
Let me be clear about something. I am a submissive through and through. But that doesn't mean that I submit to just anyone. You can call yourself a Dom/me seven ways to Sunday, but that doesn't mean I owe you anything. If no connection exists between us, forget it. Not that there is no possibility, but I need to get to know you and I'd prefer to watch you work at least once. It helps if we have friends in common whom I trust and who will vouch for you. But if I am going to offer up my body as your canvas, you had better know how to paint.
Respect is earned. So is my submission. Both are also conditional and can be withdrawn. She has my respect and my willingness to submit mostly because I know I have Her respect and Her willingness to care for me properly.
With that in mind, here I am once again on the sofa sitting next to Her and awaiting Round 2. It starts when I make the comment that my Mistress bought an evil stick at last year's Summer Flea and I didn't find it all that bad. I have a habit of tossing myself under buses that is outstripped only by my ability to toss other subs under buses. It's entirely inadvertent and caused by my inability to keep my mouth shut when certain ideas or topics are being bandied about. So there it is. I'll learn, so help me.
"Wait just a minute," She says. She goes into a bedroom and emerges with two bola-type objects. Each has a pair of small balls with crocheted coverings hanging from the ends of a string and held by a small handle at the string's midpoint. "Take off your shirt and get on your hands and knees." I comply. Soon I feel the almost constant sensation of four evil sticks across my back. Maybe I'm just warmed up at this point or something, but they don't bother me at all. In fact, they feel strangely good.
For fear of sounding bratty and antagonistic, I refrain from saying any of this.
Finally, She grabs my ponytail again and says, "Try and get away from me." Again, I twist and turn in any way that I can, but She has my tail and there is only so much I can do. When I am spent with rug burns to my knees and elbows, She relents. This time, she lies down on the floor with me and gathers me into Her arms again. That stunning aftercare finds its way to me and I float off again. When I open my eyes, She is looking right at me with a broad smile on her face. This has been good for both of us.
Still, it's not entirely over. The buses are still running. I notice that some other subs have been getting corset ribbons tied on their bodies using staples. My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask to experience one staple. It doesn't really hurt. But oh, what an idea this gives Her!
Stepping out briefly, She returns with a length of string and a safety pin. She ties the pin to the string and hooks it into the staple. "Bend your leg up as tightly as you can," She tells me. I do so, and She ties the other end of the string around my big toe. One false move and the staple will get yanked out. Not good. "This is what is known as predicament bondage," She tells me. So far so good. Then I get a sense of impending doom when She threatens to tickle me. It doesn't really happen partly because this was a mind fuck, but also because the string won't stay secured around my toe.
Thank the powers for Their small favors!
She says something about wearing the staple for a couple of days with the safety pin attached. I think She is offering me an idea. A choice. So when another sub offers to take the staple out, I let her. You know, staples hurt a lot more coming out than they do going in.
And what's worse, She was not offering me a choice. She returns to find the staple removed without Her permission. Now there are three subs in deep trouble. The one who asked if I wanted it removed, the one who said yes, and the one who did the removing. We are in for it.
I have no doubt that punishment will be on the menu the next time we get together. Only as I write, there are at least two Dommes who have one month to decide what to do with us.
I didn't mean to transgress - honestly, but I can't help looking forward to the consequences.
She suddenly reaches over and yanks on my pony tail. The one on my head, that is. I'm not in pony gear this evening. It's not that sort of get together and I'm not with my Mistress. I haven't had quality time with Her in ages for various reasons, and I miss Her terribly. Still, I observe the rules and don't play pony unless She is there or I have Her express permission. I didn't seek it for this evening because I didn't need it. I can do dungeon play at will. I'm a big boy.
The tail pull brings me around quickly. Suddenly I am wide awake and apologetic. She is understanding and asks if I would like to put my head in her lap for a while. I can't do that without upending myself, so I sit on the floor and put my head on Her knee. For what seems like hours, she sits there and gently strokes my hair. I may nod off from time to time, but I sense and feel Her presence. At turns, it's reassuring and unnerving. At this moment, I am Her property to do with as She pleases within the bounds of our negotiations (and those are pretty permissive). These gentle ministrations may be just that or She may be lulling me into a false sense of security.
Either way, what bliss!
I have watched Her play with another. She will sit and look idly about the room watching other play scenes or talking to people while Her sub sits next to her or on the floor in front of her quietly. Suddenly there is a bellow of pain and the sub is writhing about in an effort to adjust to the pain she is undergoing. I have never been able to see what was causing the pain. Whatever it was, it was subtle.
Tonight, I find out. We have had some food to eat and one of the plastic utensils has been called into service. She has broken off a length of the handle and now secrets it in Her hand. She reaches over and takes my hand in Hers, gently massaging it. I feel lulled again. Briefly. Then the business end of the broken plastic handle is suddenly jammed into the web of my thumb.
Now I'm the sub who is bellowing out in pain. The jab ends almost immediately and the massaging continues. Then the plastic handle finds its mark between two fingers. I howl again and instinctively try to pull my arm away from the source of my torment. Trouble is, She is stronger than I am. She is also an artist at making certain that any attempt to escape will hurt even more.
So here is the predicament. It hurts to remain still and it hurts even more to pull away. And I can't get away anyway.
She releases my hand and I have a look. Lots of marks, but no broken skin. It's amazing how much pain you can endure without ever crossing a hard limit.
She pulls my pant leg up a bit and starts using the sharp plastic to scratch my lower leg. This results in more cries of pain and struggles to pull away from the source. Again, attempted escape just makes it worse. But lying there and just letting it happen isn't an option that my body is willing to consider. I think that's a good thing. The struggle seems to be as much fun for Her as anything. Watching a sub in a predicament like this can be very entertaining.
I notice that others in the room have tuned in to watch. That is how I draw the conclusion.
"Why don't you take off your pants?" She asks. I have played with this Domme enough times to know that She is not being contemplative. She is issuing a command. Take your pants off. I do.
I am wearing flannel lined jeans this evening and the room is warm. I have also been struggling and under some stress for some time by now, so my legs have a thin sheen of perspiration on them. No matter. Before long, they also have some handsome scratch marks all over them. She has a fondness for scratching. I'm not crazy about it, but I have never told Her that She can't do it. So what does that say about me? Duh!
Gradually She works Her way down to my feet. The plastic handle finds its mark between a few toes with the predictable result. But then She gets another idea. I almost wish that She had stayed with the plastic handle.
If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that my feet are terribly ticklish. I mean violently so. If you want to tickle my feet, you had better have either the strength of ten men or a willingness to get badly bruised up.
She had the strength thing going for Her. She tickled my feet unmercifully until I about turned blue from laughing. She allowed me to rest for a short time and then She was at it again. I contorted and twisted myself in any way I thought would get me away from the torment, but to no avail. I don't know if it was frustration or just a desire to 'do something' about my situation, but I was inspired to shout, "Why can't you just tie me up and flog me?!?"
Laughter all around. Actually, I really was making light of the situation. She laughed harder than anyone else in the room. Really, in the end, it's entertainment. So why not put some effort into being entertaining?
What came to be known as Round 1 ended with me in complete shambles across Her lap. I was scratched up from my toes to my groin. I was a sweaty mess, and I was breathing as though I had just run the one minute mile. Then She gathered me into Her arms for a few minutes to bring me back down to Earth.
Her aftercare is second to none. I mean that. As I sat there, my head held in Her arms, She stroked my hair and told me what a wonderful pony I was. True, we weren't playing pony at the time, but that is the context in which She sees me at times like this, and I love it. But She doesn't just complement me. She leads me on a guided meditation to a meadow that She designed just for me. She turns me loose to run all I want to. Under Her gentle suggestion, I feel the warm sun on my face (no small deal given the harsh winter we have had) and the warm breeze in my mane. She lets me live in this reality for as long as I want before gently letting me wake up and open my eyes. Then She finds me some water and sits quietly with me.
Let me be clear about something. I am a submissive through and through. But that doesn't mean that I submit to just anyone. You can call yourself a Dom/me seven ways to Sunday, but that doesn't mean I owe you anything. If no connection exists between us, forget it. Not that there is no possibility, but I need to get to know you and I'd prefer to watch you work at least once. It helps if we have friends in common whom I trust and who will vouch for you. But if I am going to offer up my body as your canvas, you had better know how to paint.
Respect is earned. So is my submission. Both are also conditional and can be withdrawn. She has my respect and my willingness to submit mostly because I know I have Her respect and Her willingness to care for me properly.
With that in mind, here I am once again on the sofa sitting next to Her and awaiting Round 2. It starts when I make the comment that my Mistress bought an evil stick at last year's Summer Flea and I didn't find it all that bad. I have a habit of tossing myself under buses that is outstripped only by my ability to toss other subs under buses. It's entirely inadvertent and caused by my inability to keep my mouth shut when certain ideas or topics are being bandied about. So there it is. I'll learn, so help me.
"Wait just a minute," She says. She goes into a bedroom and emerges with two bola-type objects. Each has a pair of small balls with crocheted coverings hanging from the ends of a string and held by a small handle at the string's midpoint. "Take off your shirt and get on your hands and knees." I comply. Soon I feel the almost constant sensation of four evil sticks across my back. Maybe I'm just warmed up at this point or something, but they don't bother me at all. In fact, they feel strangely good.
For fear of sounding bratty and antagonistic, I refrain from saying any of this.
Finally, She grabs my ponytail again and says, "Try and get away from me." Again, I twist and turn in any way that I can, but She has my tail and there is only so much I can do. When I am spent with rug burns to my knees and elbows, She relents. This time, she lies down on the floor with me and gathers me into Her arms again. That stunning aftercare finds its way to me and I float off again. When I open my eyes, She is looking right at me with a broad smile on her face. This has been good for both of us.
Still, it's not entirely over. The buses are still running. I notice that some other subs have been getting corset ribbons tied on their bodies using staples. My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask to experience one staple. It doesn't really hurt. But oh, what an idea this gives Her!
Stepping out briefly, She returns with a length of string and a safety pin. She ties the pin to the string and hooks it into the staple. "Bend your leg up as tightly as you can," She tells me. I do so, and She ties the other end of the string around my big toe. One false move and the staple will get yanked out. Not good. "This is what is known as predicament bondage," She tells me. So far so good. Then I get a sense of impending doom when She threatens to tickle me. It doesn't really happen partly because this was a mind fuck, but also because the string won't stay secured around my toe.
Thank the powers for Their small favors!
She says something about wearing the staple for a couple of days with the safety pin attached. I think She is offering me an idea. A choice. So when another sub offers to take the staple out, I let her. You know, staples hurt a lot more coming out than they do going in.
And what's worse, She was not offering me a choice. She returns to find the staple removed without Her permission. Now there are three subs in deep trouble. The one who asked if I wanted it removed, the one who said yes, and the one who did the removing. We are in for it.
I have no doubt that punishment will be on the menu the next time we get together. Only as I write, there are at least two Dommes who have one month to decide what to do with us.
I didn't mean to transgress - honestly, but I can't help looking forward to the consequences.
Friday, February 11, 2011
A Not-So-Live Journal
Some time ago I remember a glitch causing this blog to be suspended because a program routine with an overactive hypothalamus thought I might be peddling spam. That got resolved in jig time (thanks Blogger!) but still left me with the idea that a back-up blog might not be such a bad idea. So I started a duplicate blog at Live Journal.
I kept both blogs going side by side despite the fact that I found Live Journal to be somewhat obtuse and less user-friendly than Blogger. But after a while, I decided that I no longer needed to pay Live Journal for the account. It was pretty inexpensive at about $20 per year, but I could do everything here that I wanted to do there for free. So why bother paying for an account when free accounts were available?
So I dropped back to "Basic" account status at LJ.
Today, I went to see when I last posted to the LJ blog with the intention of bringing it up to date. Guess what? I got a screen with a goat's face staring back at me that read "PURGED ACCOUNT."
Well, I don't recall doing that. I'm not sure why I have disappeared. And it's not just my journal that went away, it's my entire account.
Not saying I didn't do it, but if I did, it isn't what I meant to do. In any case, It's been far too long to do anything about it now, so the Live Journal copy of this blog is history.
So be it!
I kept both blogs going side by side despite the fact that I found Live Journal to be somewhat obtuse and less user-friendly than Blogger. But after a while, I decided that I no longer needed to pay Live Journal for the account. It was pretty inexpensive at about $20 per year, but I could do everything here that I wanted to do there for free. So why bother paying for an account when free accounts were available?
So I dropped back to "Basic" account status at LJ.
Today, I went to see when I last posted to the LJ blog with the intention of bringing it up to date. Guess what? I got a screen with a goat's face staring back at me that read "PURGED ACCOUNT."
Well, I don't recall doing that. I'm not sure why I have disappeared. And it's not just my journal that went away, it's my entire account.
Not saying I didn't do it, but if I did, it isn't what I meant to do. In any case, It's been far too long to do anything about it now, so the Live Journal copy of this blog is history.
So be it!
A Flea in my Ear
Ok, last December I expressed doubts about going to the Flea this year. Well, I reconsidered and so did Stormy. It's going to be odd this time around, though.
We are going as humans.
There will be no organized pony activities at the Flea, which is a shame, but Mistress could not commit this year and alternatives did not work out. I didn't feel comfortable or capable of organizing anything - and after all, ponies aren't the organizers most of the time. So there really is no pony reason to travel the six or seven hours to get to Providence.
Well, except for the chance to spend some quality time with Stormy. That's incentive enough.
I'm also going to meet up with my pony pal Clover and his Good Wife (no accident on the caps there). We had some fun last year and are looking forward to having more this time around.
So yes, we will be going to the Flea. No, we are not planning on doing any pony activity. We may actually get a chance to attend a class or two, which is something ponies don't often get to do. That could be an eye opener. Well, at least it could open something...
We won't be staying at the Westin, which is the host hotel for the Flea. We just can't afford it at $150 per night. That may be a price break, but it breaks my bank. We have had a REALLY tough winter up this way and it isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. I take a risk every time I pull out of the driveway. That would be the driveway that is currently costing me about $60 a week to keep clear and has pretty much shredded a set of tires that are not yet a year and a half old.
Nest year...studded snow tires. I hope.
The Flea will not be a bore, however. Stormy and I are playing things by ear, but we will see a lot of friends. And in an expression of the hope that springs eternal, we are still packing our tack. We don't expect to use it, but when you're a devoted pony, it becomes a part of who you are. To leave your tack at home is to leave an important part of yourself behind. Neither of us can bring ourselves to do that.
Besides, Mistress did say She might be in on Sunday to see Foxy Davis. Apparently he has a pair of custom gloves for Her to pick up. I didn't ask what those gloves were, but I hope to find out. It's unlikely that we will play pony on Sunday, but the option is open however remote.
That's pony hope. I'll let you know how things go.
We are going as humans.
There will be no organized pony activities at the Flea, which is a shame, but Mistress could not commit this year and alternatives did not work out. I didn't feel comfortable or capable of organizing anything - and after all, ponies aren't the organizers most of the time. So there really is no pony reason to travel the six or seven hours to get to Providence.
Well, except for the chance to spend some quality time with Stormy. That's incentive enough.
I'm also going to meet up with my pony pal Clover and his Good Wife (no accident on the caps there). We had some fun last year and are looking forward to having more this time around.
So yes, we will be going to the Flea. No, we are not planning on doing any pony activity. We may actually get a chance to attend a class or two, which is something ponies don't often get to do. That could be an eye opener. Well, at least it could open something...
We won't be staying at the Westin, which is the host hotel for the Flea. We just can't afford it at $150 per night. That may be a price break, but it breaks my bank. We have had a REALLY tough winter up this way and it isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. I take a risk every time I pull out of the driveway. That would be the driveway that is currently costing me about $60 a week to keep clear and has pretty much shredded a set of tires that are not yet a year and a half old.
Nest year...studded snow tires. I hope.
The Flea will not be a bore, however. Stormy and I are playing things by ear, but we will see a lot of friends. And in an expression of the hope that springs eternal, we are still packing our tack. We don't expect to use it, but when you're a devoted pony, it becomes a part of who you are. To leave your tack at home is to leave an important part of yourself behind. Neither of us can bring ourselves to do that.
Besides, Mistress did say She might be in on Sunday to see Foxy Davis. Apparently he has a pair of custom gloves for Her to pick up. I didn't ask what those gloves were, but I hope to find out. It's unlikely that we will play pony on Sunday, but the option is open however remote.
That's pony hope. I'll let you know how things go.
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