Recently, I tried needles for the first time. Now, anyone who knows me, knows what a huge deal they are for me. When I started exploring bdsm play, less than a year ago, they were a hard limit. I’ve lost a lot of friends to needles, different ones yes, but psychologically the association is there. And letting someone pierce you, open you to the Universe, literally expose your insides (even if only for a nanosecond) seems to me a tremendously vulnerable state and intimate experience.

As I experienced more and explored, I knew that eventually I would want to try them. I have this annoying compulsion to not just face my fears, but to dive into them headfirst. So when I was ready, I asked the person I had always known I would ask:

“What if I asked you to put needles in me?”

The experience was amazing and not one I feel the need to share details about, except for this one moment…

Lying on my back, with only 2 needles crossed on each breast, I found myself tightening up, trying to contain the energy and emotion welling up inside me. He asked me what was going on or how it/I felt or something along those lines. I’m not sure the exact words, because I was focused so intently on holding on to myself. I couldn’t think up any answer but the truth. No filter.

“I’m holding back.” He asked why, and again the truth popped out before my brain even registered it as the truth.

“Because I’m afraid. I’m afraid if I let out everything that’s inside me, no one will want me.”

He leaned over and looked me in the eyes and said, “there is nothing that would make me not want you.”

Permission. Acceptance. Release. Gratitude.

Needles are not something I want to do regularly or casually, but I can imagine doing them again on special occasions. I am proud of myself for having the courage to face one of my biggest demons, and again reminded that speaking the truth is one of the surest pathways through fear and self-doubt to intimacy and strength.

Inviting Desire will begin rehearsals again in May. We have to completely re-tool the show for the Canadian fringe festivals, as we will only have an hour performance slot for those shows. We’ll be re-mounting ID2.0 here in Portland in June, but there are many factors yet to be decided- how many of us can actually commit to 7 weeks on the road being the major one. That will, of course, effect and shape the new version of the show. Also, I’m not thrilled at the idea of staying in random people’s homes, which is the housing option offered by the festivals. We can’t afford hotels the whole time, and I’m not much one for camping. *sigh* I know we’ll make it work, and that it will be worth it for such a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But it will require sacrifices, and that means this princess has to get ready to rough it.

Another thing, the classic cliche…My biological clock actually exists! Lol, but true. It’s weird- I always just assumed I’d have kids. I know I would be an amazing mother. But lately I’ve begun to realize that children aren’t in the cards for me. My hormones are going nuts, though not enough to inspire me to get pregnant. Heh. For the first time, when I really consider my future, being a mother is not a foregone conclusion. There is some sadness in that realization, but the truth is that I’m not willing to make the changes necessary in my life to give a child the life I would want to. Selfish? Perhaps. But so is having kids simply out of fear that you might regret not having them in the future, instead of consciously bringing a life into the world because you want to be a parent right now. My friends are pregnant right now, a boy due the day before my birthday, so that is probably why I’m thinking about this so much. That and the fucking hormones. Seriously, the human body is incredible, isn’t it?

Speaking of…I am continuing my bdsm exploration and am discovering the limits of my pain endurance and extent of my masochistic and submissive tendencies. This is something that has been inside me as long as I can remember, so finally delving into it in the flesh is quite consuming. I am spending a lot of time meeting people, going to munches, having private play dates, and attending public fetish/kink events. Howard has been very supportive, but it’s a challenge trying to balance my new interests and making sure I’m putting enough effort and time into our life and love. It takes a great deal of commitment and constant communication. We are learning as we go, and both of us make mistakes every day, but I am so grateful to have a partner who is willing to put in the work necessary for the kind of relationship I’ve always thought was beyond my reach.

We both have to be happy. And one thing isn’t working for either of us. Bay City Blues. I hate to say that, but it’s true. I’ve been so busy with acting the past 8 months that I just haven’t put in the time and effort the site needs. I feel like a stranger in my own company. And it’s nothing against our wonderful girls- they are sexy phone sirens and take great care of our cherished clients. But certain things just don’t work for me (or Howard) anymore, and most of them are at the core of the phone sex business itself. I’m no longer comfortable putting my name and face on something that isn’t 100% genuine and representative of my beliefs and values. I want to go into further detail, but I don’t think it’s fair to talk about it publicly in depth until we make certain changes. Don’t worry, I’m not going away, and neither is BCB. I love phone sex and plan to do it as long as my callers will have me. But believe me when I say some fairly radical changes are on the way…

*whew* That was a mouthful. Or keyboardful or whatever. Lol. I’m going to go fondle the bruises and welts on my ass from last night and see if I can’t entice someone to climb into bed with me. Either literally or figuratively… *winks*

Love,
Tonya

Ran across an interesting link on a friend’s FetLife profile this morning. I can’t say I buy the whole thing, but I do understand an attraction to the dynamic. Of course, my version would involve polyamory and bdsm, so I’m already deviating. How unlike me. Heh.

I wonder if he guesses what I’m thinking, if he has any inkling what kind of girl I am. I imagine him sliding his fingers around my throat the way he holds the bottles, applying an even pressure to the sensitive skin of my neck. What would he do if he had me there, on the edge? Is he the kind of man who knows how to push me over? I flirt and tease and fish for the answers…

The whiskey burns going down, loosening my tongue. I don’t want to give too much away, but I am feeling bold. And curious how far he’ll take it…I let him tell me what I want, and he is right. It is good. Creamy chocolate caressing my mouth, I stifle a moan of pleasure, realizing that I am learning to turn the simplest thing into an act of submission.

snowbound

naked from the waist up
kneeling in darkness on my balcony
nipples pressed into the snowdrift
that has been sculpted by the storm

I don’t care
if anyone sees me shivering
stretched out in my perverse prayer
I am only hoping the icy cold of the snow
will burn the way his fingers do
when they twist and pinch and scratch

Happy Festivus!
Love,
Tonya

By the way, if whoever did that happens to read this, email me. I think I’m in love and want you to do really perverse things to me while we listen to every Afghan Whigs and Twilight Singers album in chronological order. *swoon*

The text message is short and effective. “Pigtails please.” The two words act instantly on my body. I feel my gut clench and I know if I were to slip my hand into my panties, I would find wetness. I stand before the bathroom mirror in a black cotton babydoll dress and part my hair down the middle, pulling it up into perky pigtails. The simple act of obedience makes me flush warm. I am afraid to drive with the platform patent leather maryjanes on, fearing the mammoth heels might get stuck under the brake or gas pedal. So instead I go barefoot, the obscene shoes dangling off one finger and then tossed in the passenger seat.

I remember reading somewhere that driving barefoot is illegal. I have no idea if it’s true now, or if it ever was, but I have always believed it to be. Coupled with a Bad Lieutenant experience when I was sixteen, a little thrill shoots through me at the thought of being pulled over. But I stay just beneath the speed limit and slow for every yellow light. It wouldn’t do to keep him waiting. I pride myself on punctuality- never inconveniently early, but never late.

I park and check myself in the mirror one last time before slipping into the impossibly high heels. Work on the house across the street screeches to a halt as I walk from my car to his front porch, but there are no catcalls. None that I can hear anyway. It seems like he always keeps me waiting at the door for an extra minute, the anticipation making me shake just a little. Or maybe it’s the shoes. Either way, when I am finally granted admittance to his home, the swell of relief and familiarity is instantly comforting.

We spend some time getting reacquainted and reconnected before moving into his play space. I scan the array of implements designed for one reason alone- to inflict varying degrees and kinds of pain. “Which one do you want?” The decision is too much pressure, and I start to shut down. What if I choose poorly? What if I upset him? Or worse, what if I disappoint him? I start to talk. Needless, useless words. He silences me with a sharp jerk of my nipples that doubles me over. Somehow I can bring myself to say everything but the truth- I want to not have a choice.

One thing I have learned is that it is, as “they” say, always the ones you least expect. And if you were to judge by his kind smile, attentive conversation, and solicitous manner, “they” would be so right. It would be unsettling if it weren’t exactly what I want. I want. I know empty, and it’s not a bad sensation sometimes, being ready to be filled. But he will not accept emptiness or detachment from me. He can sense when I’m withdrawing and knows exactly what to say, how to strike. The blows rain down on my body, lightly at first, and then with increasing pressure and intensity. They will leave marks for days, welts and bruises will spring to life and age over time, changing shape and color before fading into a sweet ache. They are my badge of honor I wear proudly, reveling in my delicious, scandalous secret.

Each time, I take more than I think I can and it is proof that I am stronger than even I know. I like almost everything but the intense heaviness of the flogger. I adore the leathery lick of the cat-o-nine, the sting of his open hand, and surprisingly, the radiating, inescapable heat of a cane. But it is the single tail that seduces me. He is adept at inflicting with it a gentle kiss, a light flick, a hard welt. The softest, almost-silken caress to a slicing razor’s cut. From now on, when I see the pretzel stand at the mall, it will make me hungry for the small knot of leather at the end of his whip.

I am close. I want him to stop but not enough to conjure the safeword onto my lips. I don’t think I can take anymore. He knows I can. Ten more. I do not count them, I can only cry out as each lash strikes the tender pink flesh of my ass and thighs. And then the explosion of emotion is everywhere and I sob and it is wonderful and terrifying and finally finally finally I feel. Good enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, sexy enough, enough. Wanted. Accepted. Loved. It is an orgasm of myself and a gift he gives, taking only my tears in payment. Later, on my knees, I will attempt to show my appreciation. Yet still when I leave, I feel as though I owe him.

In other news, I’m seriously considering going to Summer Camp for Grown Ups.  Doesn’t it look like a whole bunch of naughty fun?  I’m realizing that I still have a lot to learn about bdsm and alternative lifestyles.  As open-minded and creative as I am, I definitely feel like more real-time experience only makes me even better on the telephone.  So I can totally rationalize spending the money.  Hehehe!  I haven’t decided yet, because I’m really hoping to hear back about that audition, and I’m pretty sure the production dates conflict with camp.  We’ll see…

I could probably babble on about inconsequential bs (don’t I always?  Lol!), but instead I’m going to have a glass of wine, wander around the new website, and enjoy the fruits of my labor.  In honor of the new design we’re offering 25 minutes for the price of 20 with any sexy BCB vixen, so click here for more details and join me in my den of deviance…

Ok, what is it about lighting things on fire and watching them explode in a shower of pretty colored sparks that turns grown people into giddy children?  I am no exception- I was hopping around like a five year old, lighting every fuse I could get my hands on.  Lol.  We went up on the roof terrace once they started the downtown fireworks display over the river.  The bridge is sort of in the way, but you can see enough that it makes the idea of battling the real crowds very distasteful.

Anyway, we enjoyed ourselves immensely, and I can see this becoming an annual event.  We actually managed to work through most of the food, although we’ll be probably be eating burgers and dogs for the next month.  Lol! 

Now I’m focusing on a couple of auditions I have coming up, including one tonight.  This is the time of year that theater companies begin casting their season of plays, and I’ve been going to a few auditions a week.  Usually I’m lucky to find one audition every two weeks, so I have to take advantage of the opportunities when they’re available.  But it does take me away from Bay City Blues, not just for the actual auditions, but also for the prep and primp time needed before each one.  And that means less time to harass the designer to hurry up with our new site design, less time to find and hire quality girls, and most annoyingly, less time for hot, nasty phone sex kink with my favorite deviants.  Grrrr! 

The good news is that some of my online absence can be explained by offline excitement!  With Howard’s blessing, I am actively seeking some play partners for more extensive bdsm exploration and erotic stimulation.  Not only do I desire to learn and experience more, but I believe empirical knowledge is necessary to provide the finest phone sex service.  The study and sharing of pleasure is truly part of my life’s work.  Thankfully, Howard understands and supports this.  I don’t know that I could do it without his full consent.  Once upon a time, I would have, but our relationship and life partnership has become much more important to me than I ever expected.  Fortunately, I do not have to sacrifice our intimacy for continued sexual exploration and growth.  I am a very lucky woman.  *big grin*

And a very hungry girl.  I had better go eat something soon, because it’s never good to go to an audition with a full stomach…Hmmm, perhaps I’ll stumble on a chef crush…