Snarfle the Garflack, love.

It’s an inside joke. And, yes, I know it’s ‘narfle the Garthok’; whatever, it’s my joke, shut up.

Hopefully I’m able to explain it properly here. It’s the phrase I use to encourage D. Usually toward something that he’s not sure he’s ready to do or isn’t sure he has the ability to do; but keeps saying he wants. And at the risk of sounding sexist; he’s a guy, it usually involves emotions. Garflack is what ever ‘big scary thing’ thing is going on… and usually isn’t such a big scary thing in the end.

It’s come up a bit lately. He’s exploring his poly, more than he has before and it’s raising new feelings, issues, and worries. It’s interesting to be supporting him through it. I’m glad I am and I love seeing him grow and become. You know what I mean?

I’m sort of discovering that I’m really protective of him too. Not to the point of weirdness, but that I’m pretty fucking blunt when I see others in his life pulling shit.  He, of course, gets to make his own choices about what he is doing and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Through out the course of his exploration, we’ve discovered so many new things about us. Individually. As a couple. Our power exchange/Ds.

We’ve discovered we have very minimal rules for each other, though they are important ones. Practice safe sex. Don’t do anything that will harm us. Act, speak and live with honesty, integrity and honor.  That one’s a doozy, but so important. Keep each other informed. And finding where those rules expand or contract depending on the situation.

And there are moments where I have to say it to myself. Facing my attachment to an ex and how it was affecting my emotions still… so difficult. Snarfle the Garflack. Finding out what it really is I am afraid of in opening myself up to ‘new’ people. Snarfle! The unexpected ones, like discovering that I mostly have acquaintances in the community, where I thought I had friends. That was a hard one.

I always try to make sure I’m using it well and saying it from a place of encouragement and love. He is my Sir and my love as well as my partner and I have to make sure I’m respecting all the aspects of our relationship when offering a push.  But I know he appreciates my support, my encouragement and my love.

We have an event coming up in June that we are both looking forward to… we’re on staff this year and with all these new discoveries about each other and ‘us’, we’re looking forward to exploring our boundaries in such an open, loving, energy rich place.  Hopefully our experiences this year will be as good as last, or better!

Hopefully, I’ll be hurting some boys. I am going to snarfle the fuck out of THAT Garflack, as soon as I can.

Of course, sometimes, ‘Snarfle the Garflack’ is code for: ‘Here, take these condoms and go fuck her already. Sheesh.’

I’m serious AND silly.                                      Ooh, now I want to hear ‘Tainted Love’….

On being a switch… Sadist/Masochist

I feel I must add a disclaimer: All switches are different. Covering every type of switch is simply impossible. So please, bear in mind that I am only discussing how switching works for me.

I read somewhere a note comparing a switch to Schrodinger’s Cat… And it’s a wonderful comparison except for the fact that it represents a yes/no dichotomy rather than a gradient. Most switches I know are not 50/50 sub/dom, they are a spectrum of their needs. For me, figuring out which side is prominent is affected greatly by the energy of whom I am interacting with… I have met Doms who I feel submissive to and others to whom I feel Dominant. I’ve met subs who I feel Dominant to and others to whom I feel submissive. I’ve met switches that stir up both energies. And I’ve met far more people who trigger nothing than I expected.

Today though, I want to talk about being a Sadist and being a Masochist. For me, S/M is intermingled amongst the whole Dom/sub/switch label and my S/M is mental and physical, not emotional.

Sadist: someone who derives sexual gratification from inflicting pain on others.

When I’m Top/Dom… I want to hurt you. I crave your tears, moans, growls and screams. I love to see the welts and bruises rise up through your skin. I want to fuck with your mind and body and twist you into a sobbing, thrashing, crying, quivering heap of flesh.

When I’m bottom/sub… I want to sink my nails into your skin when I orgasm. I want to gag myself with your flesh. I want to lash out at you with everything I have in me. I want to push you off the bed when we wrestle and slap you when you attack me. I want to fight and hurt you and push my brain to find a way to escape you.

All of those things excite me, bring me sexual gratification, and are vastly, vastly enjoyable. I don’t need any of them everytime I scene or play. But, they are delightful.

Masochist: someone who derives sexual gratification from receiving pain.

When I’m bottom/sub… I want to cry. I want to be afraid. I want every nerve singing, screaming and writhing. I want to moan and scream and curse you. I want welts, bruises, bitemarks. I want muscles that ache days later, rubby spots from all night sex, and your marks on my body. I want mental exhaustion from trying to process the pain.

When I’m Top/Dom… I want to sweat. I want muscles that burn from beating your ass. I want my fingers to hurt from how hard I dig my nails into your flesh. I want jaw muscles that ache from biting you. I want legs and arms that are sore from holding you down. I want my wrists to twinge from beating you. I want to be mentally exhausted from thinking up new ways to hurt you.

All of those things excite me, bring me sexual gratification, and are vastly, vastly enjoyable. I don’t need any of them everytime I scene or play. But, they are delightful.

Palaestrae

I asked for a public scene last night. Something that I have minimal issues with at kink events, but this was at practice. This was in front of my chosen family. For some reason, that has given me pause for a while. I don’t want to strip or play or many other things in front of my family and perhaps that carried over into my chosen family? Regardless, I took my fears in hand and asked to go out on that ledge and play.

I asked for a scene… I didn’t know what I wanted when I asked. So, D grabbed his bag and followed me downstairs. As soon as I saw the bed was unoccupied, I knew what I wanted. Nothing in the bag, just he and I.

I wanted to wrestle.

I wanted to fight and struggle and laugh. I love to wrestle, especially against someone who’s stronger than me. I know he’ll win, I know no matter how hard I struggle I can’t escape him. And for these fears it was perfect. I was choosing something that I couldn’t win, but wasn’t intense enough to need to stop for any emotional reason. Something that was still fun and laughter inducing. I would have to go through with it, to fight, to struggle and lose. I would have to face this fear and enjoy it.

And we did. We wrestled and thrashed and fought. I knocked him off the bed once and he tossed me through the air a few times. *grins* He still has my shirt today and is making me bargain for it back. And somewhere in the middle of our scene, I let go. I still don’t know what it was I was clinging to but I let it go. I do think there are still steps to take for my personal comfort. I know there are things I’d still consider ‘uncomfortable’ that others do at practice. But you know what? That’s ok. It’s ok that my comfort levels are different and last night gave me the confidence that when I am ready? I’ll adjust. And last night verified my trust in him yet again: that he’ll guide, push, throw me right into my fears and that he’ll be there to catch me before I fall or pick me up when I do.

Emotional Needs

Frustration seems to be ruling me today. Frustration, irritation and fear. It’s easy for me to sit back and pinpoint which interaction starts this feeling. It’s much harder to talk about it, to work out a solution and not feel like I’m complaining. Because, gods I hate being ‘the whiny one’. And yeah, I know that’s a label I apply to myself… no one else is applying that label to me. sigh

I’m willing to be patient, to wait for what I need. (Situational issues… are different) But where does waiting turn into neglect? Neglect of myself, my relationship, my love. It’s so difficult for me to stand up for my emotional needs. I don’t like feeling like I’m demanding, whining, bitching about what I need and am not getting. To stand up and say *this* is what I am worth, what I *need.* I catch myself most of the time putting the boys’ needs before my own. And while I try to keep them happy… I slowly become unhappy. I’m trying to be better about it and let them know when I start feeling like I’m insignificant.

I try to rule my temper with an iron fist because dear gods, it is hard to not blow up on certain people. And blowing up is not helpful. I don’t want to be ‘the bitch’ either. And it is a long, long path from ‘I’ll tolerate you.’ to ‘Let’s include you!’. And, yes, ‘Let’s include you!’ is the long term goal. But you have to work at it too, I’m not going to pull your half of the load on that one. *grits teeth* And I am not the only one who sees the issues. And, yes, his handling of things has and is frustrating me, too.

So that covers frustration and irritation… Fear. I’ve always feared sharing how I really feel about things. As much as I love my family; they were very much a bad, bad influence on my emotional health. My opinions never mattered, you did as you were told and that was that. There was no talking about how I felt, because how I felt was always wrong. So, I learned to shut up and keep my feelings/opinions to myself. Because sharing always made the situation worse.

So… now I am faced with situations where communication is *most* important and I have to fight myself to get there every time. And always, always in the back of my heart & mind is the fear. Fear that standing up for me will make me appear whiny, cause bigger problems or a break up. Because, yeah what the boys think of me matters. A lot.

It’d be nice if I wasn’t the only one standing up for me sometimes.

Twisted Temple

So.  I’ve always had very, very vivid dreams. Bright, saturated colors, fine details, and an urgent immediacy to all the events, smells, sights, tastes, and the physical & emotional feelings.  Say I am dreaming that I’m on fire? I smell the smoke, choke, lungs screaming, have trouble breathing; feel the flames, my skin crisping and curling, cracking and splitting. I can smell myself cooking, feel the blood boiling under my skin, taste the ashes, every nerve shrieking, feel my throat breaking on my screams. Bathed in terror, searing heat. And time seems to slow. I have an extremely perverse and strong imagination.

Last night, I had one of my recurring nightmares. You know how when you’re dreaming sometimes you can’t see someone’s face, but you know exactly who they are? In this dream the beginning’s always the same… my ‘boyfriend’ meets me at my house,  it’s summer, I live out in the country, no close neighbors,  I’m sunbathing when he gets there… and then things are different every time I have the dream.  Sometimes we fight, sometimes not. Sometimes we sneak off and make love, sometimes not.  But at some point… he starts trying to kill me. Sometimes violently, sometimes quietly. Once he poisoned my drink, once he skinned me alive and left me to bleed to death. I have this dream 3-4 times a month. No set schedule… sometimes 3 days running,  sometimes a week or more in between instances. The one constant, the one thing that never changes? I never live. Sometimes I manage to kill him as I’m dying, but I never kill him and live.

Had that dream last night…  I died particularly violently this time. He slipped something in my drink that knocked me out and when I woke up, he had me tied up and proceeded to torture me for what seemed like forever.  Just laughing the whole time.  Knives, pinchers, red hot pokers, every clichéd little torture weapon there is out there. And when I quit screaming for him… he burned me alive.

And as if my psyche hadn’t felt I was tortured enough last night… Then I had a dream that everyone in my life that I cared about… family, friends, lovers, kids literally every one; had been taken, taken and stashed away in this weird religious enclave. And I had to make it through this twisted, torturous, maze of a temple to save them. Which is *not* a dream I’ve had before… but was very very frightening, frustrating, and I failed.  I failed to save them, and got to watch as they died… a few choice people pulled out of the crowd and killed individually. Then the rest, and the bodies of the ones already dead.. blown up in the temple.

I think it’s entirely possible my mind hates me.