The Blossoming Of Our BDSM Relationship.

The Path Category

Monday, October 27th, 2014

When Consent Is Meaningless

As Gracie noted, Jian Ghomeshi’s firing exposes what a lot of us involved in BDSM fear constantly: that our private lives are no longer private things, but things our corporate overlords & others control. Apparently, the 50 Shades phenom only goes so far… Which is why we protect images & info about Pinkie, and don’t allow her to appear in vanilla versions of amateur porn, at all costs. Kudos to those who make porn, but not not our Pinkie.

From Ghomeshi’s Facebook post:

I have been open with the CBC about this since these categorically untrue allegations ramped up. I have never believed it was anyone’s business what I do in my private affairs but I wanted my bosses to be aware that this attempt to smear me was out there. CBC has been part of the team of friends and lawyers assembled to deal with this for months. On Thursday I voluntarily showed evidence that everything I have done has been consensual. I did this in good faith and because I know, as I have always known, that I have nothing to hide. This when the CBC decided to fire me.

CBC execs confirmed that the information provided showed that there was consent. In fact, they later said to me and my team that there is no question in their minds that there has always been consent. They said they

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Sunday, October 27th, 2013

Master Blackie

Blackie now has his own Tumblr: Master Blackie.

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Wednesday, October 9th, 2013

Dressing In Black

Wearing my black push-up bra, I stood with my back to Him, holding my long dark hair out of the way and grunting as He mercilessly tightened the back of the wide black waist cincher He’d instructed me to put on.

When satisfied the cincher was tight enough, He gestured for me to sit on the bed. It was time for the stockings.

I rolled one of the sheer black stockings down, then slid it on over the pointed toes of my left foot. I gently unrolled the stocking until it reached the upper half of my thigh. Then I repeated the same for my right leg. I stood up, and expertly attached the garters.

“Wear that tight black dress; the short one,” He commanded.

I pulled it on over my head & stood before Him.

“That’s not the right bra,” He said.

“It’s the black push-up bra I always wear with this dress,” I said, defensively.

“Where’s the other one?”

“I can’t wear that one with this dress!” I sputtered. “Not in public! My breasts barely stay in the bra!”

“That’s the point.”

“But, Blackie, no — I mean my areaolas can be seen if I’m not paranoid about checking them every five seconds!”

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll keep an eye on those for you.”

I swallowed hard.

“Put. It. On.” He growled.

I scampered to my lingerie drawer, pulled out the other black bra. I slid the tight black dress off, removed the other bra, and put on the bra He wanted. I pulled the dress back on again and turned to face him. “See?” I said. “It’s ridiculous!”

“I see,” He said as he calmly strode towards me.

But that calm was all about His control; not my peril. Once he reached me, He slapped my face. Hard. “What is ridiculous is you challenging me. This,” He said, gesturing towards my chest, “is exactly what I want.”

He paused while I rubbed my sore cheek, then spoke. “I trust that’s the last reminder you need. Otherwise, your makeup won’t cover My rage.”

I nodded eagerly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Then screwed up the courage to say, “But I though we were going to dinner — just the two of us…”

“We are,” He said. “But I want you to look ravishing. Now paint your face. All dark around the eyes — those line you make, like a cat. Your hair will be sleek, pulled back, with your ponytail up high.”

Now it was His turn to sit on the bed as I skedaddled off to the vanity and created what He wanted.

After inspecting my makeup and hair, He swung me around by the ponytail and shoved me forward. “Those shoes,” He said pointing to the black heels I could barely walk in without causing my skirt to inch above the tops of my stockings. I should have known. I slipped each foot into their high patent perches and stood, holding my breath.

He gestured for me to come to Him.

As I slowly waked towards Him, I could feel the roll of my hips pushing the tight fabric of the skirt up. My hands fluttered to my sides to tug the skirt back in place — but I stopped when I saw the look on His face. My hands fluttered back down to my sides as I finished the last two steps to stand before Him.

He looked me up & down, His eyes lingering at the near white of my exposed skin — the large swells of my breasts perched above and nearly over scooped the neckline of the dress; the bright expanse of flesh between the black of my skirt’s hem and the less dark, but more shiny, black welt of my stockings… “Turn,” He said. And I did.

I shivered when He ran his finger along the exposed flesh of the back of my thigh. It wasn’t just His touch that made me shiver; it was the knowledge that, given where He stroked, I had about an inch and a half before my bare bottom would be exposed. “Blackie…” I began. He replied, “No, this is just fine.” I recognized that tone, so I said nothing.

“Ah, jewelry…” He said. “The big silver hoops, I think. And that’s all.”

I walked towards the vanity to retrieve the earrings, anxiously paying attention to how the dress moved. It had seemed to have settled itself and no more flesh was becoming exposed. For now. As I tilted my head to the side to insert the first earring, I watched Blackie adjust his pink tie in the mirror. I put in the other earring and walked over to join him.

“This is just us tonight, right?” I asked him again. That was my way of verifying that tonight was about us — no one would join us, we weren’t going to some BDSM club or something.

He smiled and grabbed my hand. “Yes, just you and I going to dinner, love.”

[To Be Continued]

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Sunday, November 4th, 2012

Sit still. Be my plaything.

Be the plaything of my friends. Then live the shame again, buy telling strange men all about it — while I collect the money.

Image via S & M = Smoke & Mirrors.

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Tuesday, January 10th, 2012

A Modern Day Chastity Device

For dirty little girls who can’t control themselves. Keep the toys under lock & key, apply them when you want. Via.

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Thursday, November 24th, 2011

Dear Pinkie… What I’m Thankful For

Dear Pinkie,

I’m thankful for all that Marc writes — knowing that as you writhe in pain and hatred, it is me who holds you there. My ownership of you, what you suffer in your commitment to me, is as good as if my arms hold you down.

Have a happy, yet miserable, Thanksgiving while I’m away!


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Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011

Bound & Pleasured Cunt

Snidely Whiplash sums up some of my thoughts on being a Dom:

I’m a top and heterosexual, I have a few minor kinks as well but that’s my nature. Top/ bottom is as much a sexual orientation as straight/ gay, it’s not what you do, it’s what you are. I feel so welcome here because Frequently Felt is a place for those of us willing to look into our own souls. I like bondage and it’s a good tool but what I really crave is to put a woman into a state of ecstasy. Dripping in sweat, lost in pleasure, delirious in submission,

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Thursday, October 20th, 2011

What Does It Take To Sexually Dominate?

M. Lore says Toys and Tools Dilute the Experience of Domination:

If these dress-up doms were more into understanding human nature and truly tearing into their partners (on a level that no toys will ever reach), they would spend less time learning knots best left to sailors and setting up safe words and truly experience what it means to possess someone entirely.

Blackie, Marc & I concur. However, toys and tools do have their places — on and in my body — too *wink* But they are just that, tools for the process. They don’t make up everything in domination. Lore’s article is a good read.

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Tuesday, June 21st, 2011

Having Your Cake; Eating & Beating It Too

Wishing my Pinkie a very happy birthday with this vintage artwork, which suggests she should be presented as the “cake” holding her own lite candles AND be the wrapped presents party guests partake of.

Art via drtenge; via Silent Porn Star.

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Thursday, June 16th, 2011

Protected: A Homecoming For Three (Which Doesn’t End Well For Me!)

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  • Pinkie and Blackie…
    The colors of our love... Not just our shopping, but the colors that I as a pain slut prefer to wear...

    I am not called Pinkie because my coloring is naturally pink -- but I am naturally a pain slut, and love to be made pink from spankings & other physical abuse. Blackie likes to push those limits, give punishments which leave marks, welts, and, sometimes, cuts... Blackie also thrills to make me flush pink with shame, humiliation and arousal.

    He was called Blackie long before I met him.

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    Call: 1-800-TO-FLIRT Ext. 03525663
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