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That’s how he referred to his penis.

Free, but tiny.

Mr Kitty has been unlocked for a long time now.

I’ve hesitated to write about this, because somehow it feels much more personal than my sex life ever does, but I guess there’s no reason not to mention it.

Mr Kitty has an non-fatal autoimmune condition which, for the most part, causes no issues whatsoever. That is, until he has a flare-up. When it flares up he gets to live in constant pain and with limited mobility.

Today is the first day he has been able to walk and move normally without pain since about two weeks ago. Normally he can take medication to try to lessen (but not eliminate) the problems, but due to the nature of the medication, he has to be very careful about not taking it if there’s anything else that might attack his immune system. It’s cold and flu season, and he was getting over a cold, so he had to make do without anything beyond standard NSAIDs and long massages performed by yours truly.

It kills me to see him in pain. It also kills my sex drive. Funnily enough, it doesn’t affect his sex drive because men are weird like that. But even though I am still able to go off and sleep with someone else if I feel like it, I don’t get anything out of that if I know that my boyfriend isn’t going to get any enjoyment from it. As far as I’m concerned, everything in our sex life should involve both of us in some way. Chastity and everything that came with it is a mutual agreement, not an imposed sentence. So neither of us has done anything sexual in about two weeks (beyond the standard groping and teasing, obviously).

Actually, that’s not true. There was that episode – once his flare-up had started, so he was unlocked, but hadn’t yet got too bad – where he took on a dominant role out of the blue. I’m not sure how it happened. We were just chatting in our bedroom when suddenly he was taking off our clothes and moments later I was moaning. It was really hot and unexpected. He is dominant towards me so extremely rarely that it made it thrilling like when you have sex somewhere where you know you might get caught, but that fact makes it even more pleasurable. That brings his count of orgasms to 4 out of 5 until the end of the year. He has one to go, and a month and a week to get that. Not bad going.

I’m so glad his pain has gone away again. Nothing makes me happier than to know that he’s ok.

Being open about open relationships

Being open about open relationships

Sometimes I’m surprised at the things people focus on when I mention certain parts of my funky relationship with Mr Kitty. For example, the other day I was having lunch with some coworkers. These are people who work in the same company as me but in different departments, so technically they’re not really coworkers, but people I’m friendlier with due to being a similar age. Some are very good friends, and some I barely know beyond regularly having lunch with them. Anyway, one of the girls remarked that she never realised before just how slutty some girls our age are. As opinionated as I usually am, I don’t like getting into certain topics without giving full disclosure of anything that might colour my view on the topic, so before I responded to that, I mentioned that I’m in a “slightly open relationship”. It wasn’t a big deal, as a few of the people at the table knew about the openness, and at least two have read this blog. The conversation went on as normal but no questions were asked about my relationship with Mr Kitty.

At least, not until we went out for drinks later that day.

We went to a nice place and ordered some cocktails. After a while, the girl who’d made the comment about sluttiness asked if I’d mind her asking some questions. I expected the usual stuff I get every once in a while, namely: whether I’ve ever had a threesome, whether Mr Kitty is allowed to have sex with other people, whether I’ve ever been hurt by our arrangement, etc. But no, she asked… how do I protect myself from STDs. Of all the times I’ve had this conversation, this is the first time anyone’s ever asked that question. All I could tell her was that it was the same as when you have a one night stand (I bet she thinks I’m also a slut now!), but she said she’s only been with one guy before, her boyfriend of a few years, and has never given consideration to that sort of thing. To me, that’s crazy. Not the part about only being with one guy, but the part where she’s never really thought about safer sex. Especially someone as smart as this girl.

Another girl (this one is a good friend)  asked whether I have casual sex very often. Coming from anyone else, that might have been a loaded question. In her case though, I know her well enough to know that she was genuinely curious. She sometimes tells me about her own exploits. 😉 But again, it’s not one of the standard questions that I’ve come to expect every time a new person finds out about the ‘weird’ things we’re into. It might be because it’s nearly always guys, not girls, doing the asking.

After those two questions, the evening went on as usual, with no further references to my relationship.

It could be argued that giving details about my sex life to people I could eventually work with isn’t a wise move. For a lot of people, if their coworkers found out that they were into an alternative lifestyle, it could negatively impact their careers. I’m lucky that in my case, that’s not ever an issue. I don’t mention my sex life to my immediate team at work because I feel genuinely uncomfortable with breaking my professionalism when we’re in a professional environment. However, I’m pretty much the only one in my team who doesn’t talk about those things, so if they ever found out, it’s not something that would bother me. I have the impression that I’m one of very few sex bloggers who can say the same thing.

Sexiness & Desire

Sexiness & Desire

This is the first topic for the Domme Bloggers Topic Challenge. =]

This month’s topic is Sexiness & desire: “As women, we hear a lot that to be ‘sexy’ means being desirable/desired. But if we’re doing the desiring (or even the up-against-the-wall kissing!), is there still room to feel ‘sexy’? Or maybe you think of being ‘sexy’ and being desirable as two different things? How do you like to know that your partner desires you, and how do you like to express your desire for them?”

I see being sexy and being desirable as two completely different things. I can’t speak for anyone else, but at least for me, being sexy comes from inside me; being desirable is more of an outward thing.

I went to an all girl secondary school. I’m not convinced that it’s healthy to spend that many years in a single-sex environment. It really fucked me up, negatively affecting my perception of the world and of myself. The shrill voices, the caked-on makeup, the bitchiness… I hated being among so many girls. Maybe because I was only a teenager, because I was a skinny little thing with not much going for me (or that’s what I thought!), maybe because I always felt tempted to hide from the public light except when I felt strongly about something, maybe for all those reasons I felt very much like the least sexy thing in the world. I never had trouble getting boyfriends but I wasn’t at all comfortable with who I was. I didn’t feel sexy regardless of how much makeup I wore or how short my miniskirt might be when I went out with my friends.

I was, however, desired. Funny that. It was always easy to get male attention because the boys’ school was close enough to the girls’ school that we could easily meet up with them after class. I wasn’t bullied either, because no one who’d ever try would want to do it again. So I’d meet guys easily, and they’d want me. I was desired.

Somehow in the intervening years, I came to realise that if I don’t give two shits about what other people think of me, I feel sexy. Very sexy. And it’s even easier to get whatever, or whoever, I want. With adulthood comes confidence, and of course confidence itself is sexy, but I’m not sure I’m that much more confident than I was, adjusting for teenage awkwardness. Sure, I now usually know exactly what I want, and I’m assertive enough to just go and get it, which is probably the biggest difference between the teenage me and the adult me. What’s really happened is not so much an increase in self-confidence, but a realisation that there is no reason to be scared of getting what I want, since most people will barely notice the little features and details that I might have felt insecure about in the past. What really matters is how I project myself. When it comes to relationships and sex, there’s so much slowness and inaction due to fear of failure that it seems like people simply wait for someone to take control of the situation and just take the first step. I now know that as a woman, in most cases I’m the one with the upper hand (sorry guys!), so I might as well grab my chance and take that first step. If it works it works; it nearly always does. If it doesn’t, well,there’s plenty of people out there who will fulfil me just the same. When I keep that mindset, which these days is pretty much my default mindset, I feel sexy because I feel powerful. Whether I’m wearing makeup or nice clothes is completely irrelevant. I will often wear pyjamas around the house, and messy hair, and still feel sexy because I know that I’m doing what I want, and I still have the power to get what I want.

Feeling and being desired is a different story. I’m lucky that my boy loves me, so even in a vanilla relationship I know I’d feel desired. Circumstances might change in the future, but as of today, I know I’m still desired by him. I’m even luckier that we get to play the chastity game, which causes him to want me so much that he truly worships me in every way that he can. We’ve been together for five years, and I know he craves my body more today than he did on that first illicit night. It’s hard to not feel desired when not a day goes by without some sort of worshipping gesture from him, be it sex-related or romantic. However, when it comes to the outside world, I don’t feel desired by other men if I’m in my pyjamas, with my messy hair. I feel inherently sexy enough that I’m fairly sure I could pull if I wanted to while doing my groceries, without any makeup or sexy clothes. At least I’d try! But it would be more difficult because I wouldn’t exactly feel desirable. I feel more desirable, and therefore desired, when I make an effort to wear nicer clothes and pretty hair and makeup.

In conclusion, I think being sexy and being desired are very different concepts. Being sexy arises either from some sort of self-confidence, or from a resistance to trying to please others, opting instead to do what one really wants. On the other hand, being desired most often occurs as a result of external appearance or demeanour, unless, as in my case, there’s some serious love shit going on, and possibly a chastity device too. Either way, on a personal level, both words relate to how easy it is for me to get laid. =P

Got bored. Drew a picture.

Got bored. Drew a picture.

This is what happens when I get bored, find a pencil, start a random sketch of an ass, and then realise that I have no eraser.

Considering the lack of references used (and therefore the terrible anatomy) I know I’m going to regret posting it here. But hey, I like ass. I’m an ass person with nothing to lose.

So here goes!


Particle Image Velocimetry

Particle Image Velocimetry

I’m an engineer. To me, PIV = Particle Image Velocimetry.

Before I looked at online kinky stuff and found out that other people use PIV to mean what they mean, I’d only encountered that term once before. It was in a blog by an extreme feminist who argued that all ‘PIV’ constituted rape, regardless of whether the woman consented or not. According to her, the simple act of pushing a cock into a vagina was always an assertion of men’s power over women, and their alleged perpetual sexual violence. Bullshit, if you ask me.

With that background, I can’t help but dislike the acronym outside of an engineering context. I know what people mean by it, and I just accept that I’ll never like the acronym, and that people will continue to use it. That’s fine. It’s like how on wedding forums, BM = bridesmaid (and not, in fact, bowel movement), and STD = save the dates. Some things I will never understand.



I bet that will be the only mention of that word in this blog.

I… can’t…. type it again. It sounds perfectly fine when other women or men say it. I don’t mind that. I don’t mind reading it either. But I can’t say it myself. It’s… I just can’t, ok? *sobs*

It’s a real problem when I’m attempting to write a blog about my somewhat funky sex life. I’ve even tried to come up with an alternative. I asked Mr Kitty what I should use, since my private word for it is so cringeworthy that I could never bring myself to use it on a public blog.

I almost feel like mentioning it now, even though I’ll avoid using it here again, just so that it’s out there and we can all move on.

But no!

I can’t!!!



Yes, I refer to my bits as bits. *dies of embarrassment*

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