March 2010


I can now inform you with a high degree of confidence that, should you ever desire to type a letter or essay while wearing black satin opera gloves, you will find it far easier than you expected.

I’m sitting at Robbie’s computer dressed in a black fishnet bodystocking, black crinoline, sheer black panties, black waist cincher, black opera gloves, black shoes, and a white cotton apron with eyelet lace.  This is my French maid outfit.

I’m waiting–and apparently I have at least half an hour left to lounge–for some unknown friends of Robbie’s (and mine?) to appear.  I’m going to silently serve them drinks–and quite probably blowjobs.  I might put on a burlesque performance.  We may have dinner–or not.   Actually, I know far less about what’s going on than I thought I did a couple of hours ago.  The afternoon is turning out to be a first-rate mindfuck.  All I know is that Robbie is planning to serve me up to his friends as a metaphorical appetizer, and if I weren’t so terribly sick to my stomach and kitten-style-nervous, I’d think this was unimaginably hot.  I’m hoping that tomorrow, after it’s all happened (or failed to happen), I will find it just as scorchingly arousing.

The current predicament (because that’s how I think of my situation) came about this way: During the time we were apart engaging in wild sexual adventures, I attended Dark Odyssey’s Winter Fire.  I contracted to provide drinks and blowjobs for a lovely friend (and his guests) on the first evening of the event.  The drinks-and-blowjobs thing has, however, been a long-time fantasy of Robbie’s.  And though I felt a large quantum of regret, when broken up with Robbie, at not being able to provide my first b-and-b service for him, I didn’t anticipate that, after we reunited, Robbie would feel more than a little hurt that I’d been able to do for and with someone else what he and I had spent so long discussing and salivating over.  (Figuratively.)

In discussions about what we were going to do about polyamory and all the lovely friends we’d made, independently, over the last few months, Robbie explained that he’d really like me to do my maid routine–for him.  And so here I am, waiting to see what he’s designed for me.  He keeps reminding me that he is in control.  I’ve asked him to demonstrate it to me before I have to put my mouth on anyone’s cock, just to get my mind wrapped around my task. 

Our guests are late.  Robbie is trying to squeeze a quick shower in before they arrive.  My stomach hurts more than when I started to type.  But I feel, far more than when I began to shoehorn a post into this most improbable of afternoons, the weight and heft and love involved in what I’ve volunteered to do.  And the ownership.  And that is a particularly nice place to be.

Illustration by Riu Ricardo–more sexy examples here.

So I’m not going to explain this right now or give lots of annoying chronology, but–surprise, surprise–I’m back at Robbie’s.  In retrospect, it seems to both of us that even trying to be apart was really stupid.  I’ve been here for two weeks and am planning to stay one more; this will be about the longest we’ve ever spent together.  Our fights have nearly evaporated.  We’ve come to agreements about how to resolve differences about distance, D/s, playing with other people, and kids.  And we are having a hell of a fun, kinky, loving time.  It’s all black-picket-fence domestic bliss here.  He cooks dinner and makes me eat with bared breasts; I black his boots and clean the cage he’s planning to put me.  We are in luv. 

There’s lots more to tell.  The seven or eight weeks we spent apart were good for both of us, in their own way.  We each had wild sexual adventures, time to think about what mattered to us, new realizations, and–did I mention?–wild sexual adventures.  I want to write about all of that, and about our current play. 

Right now, though, I have to get back to things like boot-blacking, so I’ll just give a taste of what’s happening here.  Below is the list Robbie made of all the pervy things we wanted to do during this visit.  The items that are crossed off are things we’ve already done–but as you can see, there is plenty more to do.  I can’t wait.

Things to Do – March . . . Visit

talk, resolve

love, understand, accept

rope                                        take down       

cage                                        rope

swing                                     outdoors

switch again?                    medical

cellars                                          etc. . . .

photo                                      needles again?

Beat Week                            hogtie

wax                                           burlesque

knife play                             fisting

breath control                   figging

rope                                          cell popping

clips and clamps

    etc. . . .

Illustration from concept boards for the TV show “The Ex List” by Chris Carboni, who also makes wonderful short films.