Adult Content... If you are under 18 or easily offended by erotic - kinky - poly material, please leave. Thanks!

Tuesday, September 30, 2008


Hopefully I'll have time & not be consumed by work tomorrow. Today's post didn't happen 'cause I was eaten up by work.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 2)

The first time Mr. Underwood discovered his powers was in college. The fraternity he was pledging decided that the pledges should perform a panty raid on the local Freak House.
“What’s a Freak House?” A pale red headed pledge squeaked. The poor kid was getting redder and redder under the hot Georgia sun and his peeling sunburn was already starting to blister. But he diligently scrubbed what he suspected was a cum stain out of some red sheets.
All the pledges were sitting on the walkway to the frat house cleaning sheets with a bucket of water, a tablespoon of detergent and a toothbrush. He looked from one sweaty face to the next but only receive shrugs all the way down the line.

Joe, the laziest and the richest of all the pledges, had bribed Underwood to do his work. Underwood didn’t mind, though he knew everyone else thought he was a sucker. Instead of working with them, Joe was lounging in a patio chair under an umbrella with a beer and some nachos.

“You know,” Joe said in his deep Louisiana drawl, “I don’t reckon what a Freak House is, but I do know about panty raids. My Daddy said he did a few in his time when he was pledging.” Joe was always bringing up the fact that all the males in his family had been members so he was sure to get accepted. Plus, the fact that his grandfather had donated the fraternity house didn’t hurt one bit. He leaned forward excitedly on his seat. “What happens with a panty raid is a group of guys rush into one of them sorority houses and takes their panties!” He grinned like he’d just given out the winning lottery numbers to a million dollar jackpot.

Mack, one of the biggest guys Underwood had ever met and was in fact called Mack after a Mack truck, stood up. He tossed the sheet he had finished into the basket and lumbered over to Joe, casting a shadow that enveloped the chair and the table behind it. Joe coward.

“We’re not stupid, we know what a panty raid is. What we need to know is what a Freak House is.” He grabbed Joe by the collar and pulled him up until their noses were inches from each other. “Now why don’t you trot your happy Louisiana ass into that house and find out?”

“Bu-but...” Joe sputtered.

Dropping him, Mack cocked an eyebrow. “Or is all your legacy talk bullshit?”

Joe adjusted his shirt and stood up. “I don’t have to take this crap!” He stormed into the house.

Mack turned to the other boys with a goofy grin smeared across his face. “Ha! That didn’t take too much to get rid of that little prick.” He threw himself down onto the lawn chair, one leg dangling over the extended portion, and laughed. After a few seconds of his great guffaws, he lifted his head wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and said, “now, who wants to know what the Freak House is?”

It turned out that the Freak House wasn’t a sorority at all. It had once been a frat house that a group of gay guys had purchased to be the head quarters for the GLBT community a few years back. So when the frats sent their pledges on a panty raid the Freak House, they were stealing the underwear of gay guys, lesbians, transsexuals and cross dressers.

He didn’t tell anyone, but this intrigued Underwood. He’d always been awkward with women, they never seemed to really notice him, and had never had a girlfriend, not even in high school. The only person he’d even really kissed was Lara, his Uncle’s girlfriend’s sister. Only Lara ended up being short for Lawrence.

“So here’s the deal,” Mack was saying, “I know this guy who lives in the Freak House…”

“Dude! You gay?” Charlie, the idiot of the group, was in a headlock before any of them saw Mack move. For such a big guy, Mack could move quite quickly if he wanted to.

“Listen you little rug munch. If you think you’re going to intimidate me with your prejudice bullshit, you’re quite mistaken.” He twisted Charlie’s head until the boy squeaked. “Now, what the fuck were you saying?”

“Nothin’ man, ow! Nothin’! I’m sorry, okay? Come on, put me down!”

That evening, Underwood stood with the rest of the pledges in the stark light of a street lamp. They were all dressed in black and camouflage. Tim, one of the pledge masters, was dressed as a drill sergeant and marched back and forth in front of them taping the ground with a cane and spouting trite military platitudes.

“Men! For this operation, we will need to be strategic in our strike! Some of you may not make it, some of you may lose your nerve, and some of you might even be captured. But for those of you who have the power and the agility to navigate this battlefield, there will be a reward for each pair of panties you come back with!” He smacked the cane against his palm and grinned.

“Now, move out! Hut, hut, hut!”

The squad of pledges goose-stepped down the block and around the corner away from their pledge master before busting out with laughter.

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Mack waved his hands like he was conducting a group of seventh graders. “I have a plan. My thinkin’ is, as long as some of us raid the Freak House and all of us bring back panties, then we’re golden. So I was thinking, there’s more chance of us not getting caught if we were to split up and raid different houses. Who wants to raid one of the sorority houses down the street?” As expected, Joe and Charlie’s hands were the first to fly into the air. Everyone else voted to go with them, except for Mack and Underwood.

Mack slung his enormous arm across Underwood’s shoulders and noogied his head. “Guess it’s just you and me, bud. You boys better get goin’. We’ll see ya back at the house tomorrow.” He saluted with his free hand. “God’s speed, men!” Then cupped his hand over his mouth as the guys crept off towards the row of sorority houses.

Squirming out from under Mack’s hold, Underwood cleared his throat. “Um, I thought you held off on telling us about the Freak House until Joe was inside so he’d be humiliated?”

“Man, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak!” Mack grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Thing is, Joe found out about the Freak House while he was inside. I guess he has as much pull as he pretends. But what he didn’t find out was that all the sorority houses are on high alert tonight for panty raids. They’re bound to get caught.” He turned and strode towards the front door of the Freak House. “My plan is to walk through the front door, go to the costume party they’re having and, after getting drunk and having lots of fun, taking the box of panties my boyfriend Carl is holding for me.” He held the door open and looked back at Underwood with a large grin. “You comin’? I’ll share the panties with you.”

Laughing, Underwood nodded and followed.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

"Even gay men like boobs"

This statement has been made on more than one occasion to me by, well, a gay man. Actually, more than one gay man has made a statement like that to me. They give some quick comment about how breastfeeding conditioned them to like boobs or how they just like them aesthetically. Personally, I adore boobs, breasts, titties, racks... whatever you want to call 'em, any shape or size, I think they're great. I like to touch and fondle (mine & others) and lick and suck. They're fun to play with, to lay on, to brush up against...

But what's so great about boobs?

There are a significant number of websites on just boobs. Here are a few of the free blog dedicated to boobs:
(Okay, so the last one isn't just about boobs, but it has naked breasts and it's just fun.)
- Is a website for the Topfree Equal Rights Association, a movement that "helps women who encounter difficulty going without tops in public places in Canada and the USA, and informs the public on this issue." One of the thing that this website addresses is how as soon as they hit puberty, and sometimes earlier, girls are shamed into covering their chests even in situations & places where boys & men are allowed to go topless. (This is mostly in the USA, but there are places throughout the world where the exposure of breasts are shunned.)
This attitude often leaves woman with weird relationships with their own bodies. As if there's not enough mental anxiety over body images!

I am sad for women who don't enjoy their own breasts. Hell, I'm sad for anyone who doesn't enjoy their own body! Of course we don't all look like models. It would be sad if we did. We are unique individuals with delightfully different bodies including our boobs!!

I must admit, I'm still perplexed as to why the statement, "even gay men like boobs" is true.*

* I realize that there are gay men & others who don't like boobs,
so the truth is in that there are gay men who like boobs.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

My First Enema

As part of the cleansing ritual I did while I was at Lothlorien on the Pagan camping trip the Artist & I took this past weekend, I decided to give myself an enema. Now I've played with removable shower heads and high powered spray jets before, but I've never had an enema. Yet I wanted to clean myself physically before I did any of the spiritual cleansing.

The Gypsy and I were out shopping already, so she helped me find a disposable enema kit in the local drug store. She'd had to have one when she was a little girl, so she gave me a few pointers about having a heating pad handy and staying close to the bathroom. She also warned me that the easy flow and cramps would continue for the next few days. (This was helpful in that I'd originally thought to do it the evening before the long journey to the camp ground. Would that have been hellish!)

At home, I waited for an evening when the Artist was away. I began by reading the entire box which seemed pretty straightforward. I decided on the side position where my top leg was curled up to my chest while my bottom (left) leg was stretched out. Having already removed the lid, I reached back, shoved the long nozzle up my anus and squeezed. It made a crinkly smooshy swooshy sound as I felt the liquid filling me up. Once the bottle was practically empty, I removed it.

The box said that I should "maintain position until urge to evacuate is strong (usually 2 to 5 minutes)", but I had other plans. Along with a physical cleansing, this part of my ritual was all about reclaiming my anus. So, full of liquid, I masturbated. I pinched my nipples as I rubbed my clit and came really hard and fast. Then, even though my evacuation urge was strong, I waited just a bit longer so I could masturbate & cum again.

I carefully made my way to the bathroom and released everything. Up until that point, I had been enjoying the enema. But as soon as the water started to flow out of me, I cramped up, worse than period cramps.
My closest comparison is like the one time I dropped acid. While I was tripping, it was the best experience in my life! Even though I had promised myself that I would only do it that one time, I began to wonder if it wasn't something I would do over and over again. But the next day... and, actually for me, the next week, I was in so much pain that I swore never to do it again. The enema wasn't quite that bad nor did it last quite as long... but it is similar since the enema itself was much shorter.

That night, I was exhausted! The next couple of days, every time I pooped it felt like all of my insides were being scrubbed clean. I'm glad I did it and I might do it again, but I don't think enema's will ever be one of my favorite things to do.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Companion in Compersion & about Thursday...

I just spoke with the Professor about the date he had tonight. He had such a good time that he called to share it with me. I was delighted to hear it & am so happy for him! I'd share it here, but it's his story, not mine. (Now if he tells me more details and says it's okay to share his exploits, I just might have another blog post.) He had so much fun, he's decided we should meet. Just dinner... no pressure... so he says. Mmm-hmmm... He's shown me her picture and she's quite cute, but I'm not really getting involved with anyone right now. Still... at some point we're going to have a date where we peruse possible playmates. It should be fun.

I will not be posting on Thursday since this week I started three new teaching gigs and the Artist and I leave for Wild Magick that evening. (The Artist should be posting on Wednesday.) In lieu of a post, I would love to know what my readers would like to see more of. So if you have something you want to know more about, a story you want me to finish / add more too or more about my personal sexual history, be sure to leave a comment on this post. Thank!

~ Ninian

Sunday, September 14, 2008

the Professor & Friends

I am glad that the Professor & I started seeing each other before my trust was broken. It's weird, when I was mono, I wouldn't even consider pursuing someone else this close to a break-up. But being with the Artist changed that drastically 'cause while we're not sexually involved, I couldn't just hide in a hole and expect her to "understand" even though she does. We take care of each other... emotionally &, in some ways, physically. So since I'm poly and a relationship had already begun, I'm not about to set it aside until I sort through my emotional issues 'cause that wouldn't be fair to the Professor since what we have has nothing to do with the relationship(s) that ended.

And what can I say about the Professor except that he's pretty freakin' awesome? Even though we had started to become sexually involved before my relationships with the philosopher and the photographer ended, he was respectful and understanding about my need to back off and slow things down. We haven't stopped things 'cause he's super yummy to cuddle and kiss, but he is also becoming a friend. And right now, it's so good to have friends.

I have been very fortunate in that department. I have some wonderfully understanding & supportive friends. I appreciate them more than I can even express.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Wear Panties! - fiction (part 1)

Mr. Underwood was not a conspicuous man. He was 54, about 5’6”, average build, mousy brown hair, hazel eyes and medium brown skin. His voice was neither nasally irritating nor compellingly sexy. It was… average. Everything about him was average. Most people didn’t even see him or they would forget him as if he were part of the scenery. But Mr. Underwood had a secret.

Every Friday when he got off work, Mr. Underwood would head over to the mall where he would stake out a lingerie section of a department store. He’d choose a different one every weekend and play the timid husband looking for something sexy for his wife. Mr. Underwood didn’t have a wife. But that wasn’t his secret.

He’d wait for it to be crowded before he’d go in then he’d find the busiest female sales clerk and stand to the side as she finished with her last customer. Then, with a stuttering voice, he’d ask, “I-I’m s-s-so s-s-sorry to bother you, but I have to get a present for my wife. W-where do you have the, ummm, bloomers?” He’d blush & not look into the eyes of any of the women assisting him.

If another clerk was near by, they’d exchange, “oh, isn’t he adorable?” looks. If the saleswoman was alone, she would get this half smile on her face that said, “you’re just too precious!”

Most often, the girl would gingerly lead him over to a table covered in panties then leave him alone. Every once in a while, he’d get an overly enthusiastic sales clerk who would promote the best deals or try to get his wife’s measurements. In those instances, he’d amp up his embarrassment then leave the store. But more often than not the woman would forget him as soon as she left the table.

When Mr. Underwood touched the fabric of the panties, he felt his secret tingling inside him. If anyone had been looking directly at him, they would see him shimmer. More often than not, they’d rub their eyes, blink and look back again. It was within that moment that Mr. Underwood would become a blur then, disappear. But he didn’t actually disappear; it just looked that way. The more attentive observer would notice that a there was an extra pair of panties folded neatly on the top of the stack. If it had been anyone other than Mr. Underwood, someone might have noticed.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Still Feelin' Rather Low...

I received a letter from the Photographer in which she apologized for the misplaced blame. It was good to get that letter.

I've been thinking a lot about that situation. My head hurts from all the thinking. How could I have been so wrong... again? I thought I was done with making such egregious errors when it comes to my love life. How could I have been so mislead? How could I have been so foolish? Why is my trust, which I do not give freely, abused so easily?

I can count on one hand how many men with whom I've had sex without a condom. Each one has a negative memory attached to it... I don't want to write about this... this is a path I'm not ready to traverse. I keep trying to write... I keep trying to write about something else... but my stomach is a pit of acid and my head feels explosive. I can't sleep much and when I do, I have terrible dreams in which I have to deal with him in person.

Each time my trust is broken it takes longer and longer for me to feel alright with the world. It is going to take a long time to get back to where I can trust someone enough to have sex. And I may never be able to trust anyone enough to submit ever again.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Trust Broken

Hard Limits are there for a reason.

If any limit is violated, a trust is broken, but there is a possibility of things being put right. But if a HARD LIMIT is violated, there is no way of fixing that. One of my Hard Limits is that I DO NOT have unprotected penetrative sex. It's not an unreasonable limit & it also happens to be a hard limit that the Photographer & the Philosopher agreed on. We discussed this, it was well discussed.

The Philosopher broke that sacred trust. I wouldn't even know about this if it weren't for an incredibly accusatory and passive aggressive post by the Photographer.

Here's what happened:
When we were down in the dungeon and I was blindfolded and chained to the ceiling with lube over & up my ass, I found out that he removed the condom and came in my ass. He said, "In the dungeon at one point I asked, 'I'm going to cum in your ass, ok?' (or some similar wording, I'm not sure how I worded it) and waited for your response which was a nod, but I had not in the slightest considered the fact that most people would not take that question to be about removing the condom."

(a) I was blindfolded & chained to the ceiling.
(b) I DO NOT have unprotected penetrative sex.
(c) You DO NOT renegotiate limits in the middle of a scene.
(d) You NEVER violate HARD LIMITS!!!

I'd only just recently become comfortable having anal sex & this happened. I am so hurt, so angry, so scared. Who else has he done this with? The Photographer said she had to push for this information. When did he do something like this yet not tell his wife about it? I cannot trust someone who claimed to care about me but then would abuse my trust like that.

The Philosopher had the nerve to ask that I not post about this...
"I request one thing, if it is not to much, that you not write about this all in your blog. I realize that your blog is an important project, but you also recognize that even with the use of fake names it is still easily enough traced to me and I feel bad enough at the moment without worries about my associates reading details of my breakups, as well as the fact that I am easily embarrassed..."

I hope this embarrasses, humiliates & upsets him enough that he will NEVER do anything like this to anyone EVER again.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Anal Play

I'm squimish about anything to do with anal play. I've only just recently become comfortable having anal sex with the Philosopher & posting about it was a HUGE step for me. But for a long time, it was something I wouldn't even consider doing. The Philosopher & I talked quite a bit before he even attempted to touch me there. He was very gentle and patient with me... the only way to be when dealing with something so delicate.

My issue with anal mostly stems from the fact that I had a guy try to anally rape me several years back. We were having sex so he assumed anal penetration was fine. When I said no, he pinned me down and forced entry without any lube. He ripped me up a bit before I managed to throw him off and slam him against the wall. I was so angry! While holding him down, which had to have been funny to see since he was taller, broader and much more muscular than I, I gave him a long lecture, with intermittent slapping for his being such a prick. I told him no means NO in any language (the lecture was mostly in Spanish) and just because someone gave him the gift of their body on one occasion, it doesn't mean he had the freedom to do whatever he damn well pleased no matter what they said. And if I EVER heard of him doing such a thing again, I'd come back and chop his dick off.
By the end of the lecture, he was sniveling and profusely apologizing and begging for my forgiveness... which I wouldn't give. He even called me a few times after that, but there was NO WAY I was going to give him any satisfaction. (I just hope the lecture stuck.)

For a long time, someone unexpectedly pressing just the tip of a finger against my rear opening would get them kicked or punched or simply thrown off the bed. I've come a long way from my feelings of violence towards anything to do with anal to where I enjoy it (with the right partner and loads of trust) and I'm willing to write about it.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Missing the Mistress & musings

Not that I have any time... but I miss being Mistress Ninian. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy those I'm involved with. I'm glad I have a wrestling partner who likes to bruise me in the Philosopher as well as finding the Professor who has been able and willing to accommodate my Daddy/daughter fantasy. But the Mistress in me feels... neglected. It's very similar to how I sometimes ache to have a sexual relationship with a woman when I'm only physical involved with men and all the women in my life are not sexually attracted to me. There is nothing lacking in my men, I simply yearn for something else as well. It has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. And, as I have survived without on many occasions, I will survive this too. As my mother says, "you're old enough for your wants not to hurt you."

I had a potential sub, but he pulled a disappearing act on me after our second date. Now I'm not bitter. I understand people get squirrelly, life gets complicated or sometimes the connection I feel isn't felt on both sides. But I just wish I knew why. I hate not knowing the why of things. On the back of my head is a tattoo that reads, "question everything." This is a part of my life's philosophy. Sometimes my desire to question is good... it drives me to research, to probe, to refuse to be spoon fed. But sometimes, my constant questioning merely drives me through the brink of sanity because sometimes, no matter how much I question, I will not reach an answer... even when there is one.

This is the first time in my life when I'm involved with more than one person and one of them isn't more subby. But I'm so busy with three to five jobs (depending on how you count them), working with the Artist towards getting our shop, writing and just the regular tasks of life that I feel I'm neglecting those I'm already involved with. So I'm not about to go searching for a sub or a female lover... not anytime soon, at least.

Even though the wanting may not hurt, it does distract.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

An old friend drops in

I drew this for Ninian many ages ago when we first starting hanging out, getting mightly close to a decade ago! Now I share him with you all.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Scheduled Spontaneity

It amuses me how incredibly disorganized I used to be. Now, I'm all about scheduling. I do too much and have too many jobs to be flighty about what I do with my time. Even when I'm not feeling well, I can't just call someone up to fill in for me because (a) there's no one, and (b) I get no pay for missin' a day.

Almost a year ago, I went on a few dates with Puck. Puck wanted to keep things free and open and told me that he and his wife were very by the seat of the pants type people as far as scheduling went. What that came to mean for me was that he wanted the freedom to cancel on me at a moments notice. His wife would say they needed to go shopping or that she was making a dinner he just couldn't miss or that she needed him to drive the kid somewhere, and he'd postpone, postpone then cancel. He had no respect for my time. It was incredibly frustrating!

I derive my freedom from the fact that things are scheduled. If I want to spontaneously do something, it has to be at a time when I don't have anything else going on. Scheduled Spontaneity? I know... it sounds like a contradiction. But it's a contradiction that works for me.

Needless to say, but Puck was out of luck.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Rant lost...

The Artist & I got home after midnight from the Gypsy Den so I didn't get to my Sunday post. I had an idea for a sexy rant (or, at least, a rant about sex) but it got lost in my day and I cannot for all the tepid tea remember what it was. But since I'm behind on sooooooooo many things since I just started two new jobs & am starting my third on Tuesday, I'll hold off on beating myself over it. No self flagellation tonight!

Maybe another night. ;P