#D/s

Updated Inventory

Since I’ve shelved any possibility of being able to play this year, I really don’t have much to report on this blog.  Quite honestly, this wasn’t how I wanted my kinky life to progress.

In the interim, I’ve been contemplating ways to set my toys aside in a safe manner, so they can be picked up again and be in good repair when interaction and play resumes.  I’m hoping that will be in 2021, but without any good news on the efficacy of the vaccines that have been reported, at present that’s little more than a pipe dream.

I posted before about getting storage bins at a place like Big Lots!, and squirreling away things that need better protection like my leather floggers, and industrial/hospital restraints.  The restraints for the most part are a bit more hardy than the floggers, singletails and such.  They’re designed for rough and tumble use, but the hides that the floggers and whips are made from, are a bit more delicate and need to be better stored than just tossed into a box, or hung from a tie rack in the back of my closet.

While I’m mulling and planning for their long-term storage, I’ve been considering making a more definitive inventory of my toys.  Over the past 25 years I’ve been collecting, and putting aside things in a spare bedroom (two, actually) and have in many ways lost track of just what I do happen to have.  When I first started this blog, I did a half-assed photo inventory of my collection, and even posted some of the pictures here.  I definitely think it’s time for an update in that regard.  If for no other reason than to have a better idea of all the different things I have.  I’m certain there are many redundancies, and probably a need for divesting myself of the excess.  My girl has told me that she wants me to keep all of the hospital restraints that I have, even though she might be unaware of just how many of them I do happen to have in my possession.  Not quite enough to outfit your average psych ward, but I could most definitely secure a fair few in good stead.  Food for thought, right?

Many of the items are probably too big or too small for my slave.  Not having had her here to measure against, I bought many things that were a good price, without having a care about size.  Certainly it will be difficult to part with some of the pieces, but if they’re not the right size, then they’re not doing us much good.  There’s only so much space for things, and I’d rather be making use of the toys, rather than just having four or five versions in varying sizes, thinking that in the future there might be need for a size bigger or smaller than she.  I know she has a pet of her own, but most of the things I’ve purchased are with a female form in mind, not a male.  And naturally there are differences when it comes to delicacy versus masculinity.  Too, we have differing tastes in certain things.  So that’s a consideration as well.

I thought I’d put in a small sample of what I made pictures of before.  These were taken on a bedspread, in just the natural light of our spare bedroom, and an overhead light as well.  In the intervening years I actually purchased one of those portable light boxes a few years ago, when I was considering perhaps selling some of my things on eBay.  I sold a couple of phones on Swappa.com and it worked pretty well for that.  Obviously larger items like spreader bars aren’t going to fit in a small box, so I’ll have to consider what I might do for them.  Maybe a lighting cube or just make do with the natural lighting once more.  Since I’m not in the market for selling anything right now that’s less of an issue.

I’d also considered buying an armoire, but unfortunately places like Wayfair, while having some good items, they’re mostly manufactured wood, and I don’t really like the construction of them.  If one is going to have a piece of furniture like that, it should be made of a decent hardwood like mahogany.  But I don’t have a spare $3000 to spend on a mahogany armoire.

Anyway, that’s where I’m at.  As things progress, I’ll probably be posting more here.  Or not.  We’ll see.

Investing for the future

My slave and I had a small conversation this afternoon, that sort of started when I arrived home from running errands with my wife.  It was a continuation of a conversation (after a fashion) she and I had been having over the last few days.  

She’s been having trouble getting used to using Spotify without the fancy doodads that are included with a paid membership.  I’ve been paying for her membership for the most part over the last year.  It ran out sometime in the last week or so, and the lack of the ability to fast forward as well as other expectations were getting to be a little much for her.  There was a veiled mention of the fact this week is National Nurse’s Aide Week, and generally, on those sorts of weeks, the professional or worker in question gets a gift.  Usually from their employer or a spouse, in recognition of the work that the person does and doesn’t necessarily get noticed or rewarded. 

I looked it up and yes it certainly is that particular week, and since none of her family were likely to be moved to give her anything, much less her employer (the CEO sent out a blanket statement to the workforce, thanking them for their hard work, their dedication and so on, basic boilerplate in lieu of anything more substantial, like money for instance) I was intending to extend her Spotify membership anyway, as a reward for all of her hard work and dedication and because sometimes its the right thing to do.  

Of course, I hadn’t done it right away, so there was a text message this afternoon for all intents and purposes pleading with me to re-up ASAP since she was really having a hard time without it.  My response in this instance was typically me “Oy”.   I also made reference to a saying that I have whenever someone says something is driving them crazy.  I would have thought after 3-4 years of knowing me, she would have known about it, and I even suggested she could earn brownie points for it, but no, she didn’t.  I had to clue her in about it.  Again.

Person #1:  I can’t stand it anymore, it’s driving me crazy!

Person #2: Y’know, it’s not so much a long drive, as a short putt.

Yes, I think it’s funny.  Honestly, I don’t care if you don’t.  If you do, woo woo and a ^5.

At this point, I made an off-hand comment about needing to make an Amazon shopping list, since there were several other things I knew she was out of, and with money being tight, unlikely she was going to be getting them anytime soon.  Naturally, once I put one thing in the cart (sunscreen) others started popping to mind that she was going to need in the near future.    At some point, I asked a question I hadn’t inquired about for many months.  Whether or not she had a decent pair of shoes for work.  As expected, the answer was no, she was still wearing ones she got from the dollar store, of all places.  So back to Amazon to seek out a sturdy pair of nurse’s shoes, that will last longer than however long dollar store shoes last.  Five minutes would be my off-handed guess on that one.  

Naturally, I found several possibles, but the designs on them were fairly hideous.  Does no one make shoes in plain white, or black anymore?  After more time than I thought I would spend on this mission, I finally came across a pair of Skechers that would do well.  Made certain of the sizing, and put them in the cart.  

Lastly, I asked about her medications.  In for a penny, in for a pound, right?  After some banter, and back and forth, she admitted that she was out of two important ones that are OTC, and could be ordered from Amazon.  Popped them into the cart, along with some generic Aleve and I was pretty much done.  I added in the Spotify gift card and called it complete.  During the final part of the conversation, we covered the one thing we always do, when she tells me “You don’t have to do this.”   Believe me, slave, I know I don’t have to.  But I also know no one else is going to help out.  You may not be blood, but in a very important manner, you’re my responsibility.   So I do what I can when I can.  If positions were reversed, you’d be doing this as well.  We’ve had that particular conversation more times than I can count.

I closed out the cart and put the shipping information in, my CC info and pressed the ‘Place the Order’ button.  It’s on its way to her and should arrive by Saturday.  I know she’s grateful, I know she’s also a bit melancholy that I had to bail her out again.  Should be a trifecta when she reads this and sees I posted about it.  

In for a penny, in for a pound.  I’m investing in our future.  At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Inhibitions

As I started my college career in the fall of 1983, the drinking age was still 18. I remember vividly the drunken parties in the dorm that I was in, the freshman football players that managed to destroy a wall between two rooms in order to make a ‘double’ room (and their parents eventually being charged for the damage) while having a ‘load on’ and so on. Beer, being cheaper was usually the alcoholic beverage of choice and it flowed pretty freely at the college. Two years later when the drinking age was raised to 21 (still get a little steamed about that, since it was one day I was able to drink if I wished, the next I had to wait another 17 months) and things changed accordingly. There was still what became ‘illegal’ drinking, but for the most part (unless it was inescapably obvious) the college looked the other way and didn’t overly police the practice.

Naturally, that has almost nothing to do with the topic above. Just laying a little groundwork and background, if you will. I was talking to my slave the other night on the phone before bed, and during the course of the evening, she’d been drinking some wine, a little too much apparently. It managed to loosen her tongue and brain a bit and she became very talkative about a great many things. And of course, as I expected, come the morning and the next time I spoke to her, she didn’t have a recollection of what she said. But I do. Now, I know it was probably ‘the liquor talking‘ for the most part, but when one’s inhibitions are let down, or tamped down either by some force or another, what is said or expressed can sometimes be the whole truth, and it can give a pretty good idea of what that person is thinking and feeling under the surface, or under normal circumstances they would keep to themselves.

Of course, I’m not saying all of this to shame her, as evidenced by the fact that I’m not letting on what she said. That’s exclusively between her and me, and there’s no force on this planet (or any other) that will change it, so don’t ask. I’m merely making an observation here, and relating it for my own recollection, as well as it was interesting to me. Interesting, so I write about it.

And as a caveat. Be careful when you drink. What you say, may very well be to someone who is listening. And remembering.

Crossroads

I look at the calendar.  Another day passed since I saw her last.  I can still remember what she looked like, what she smelled like when we parted.  I gave her the hat I purchased for myself at the museum so that she had something else of mine to keep close to her.  At the time, we had been planning to get together again in a couple of months.  But that didn’t happen.  Then more suggestions of when to get together.  Those didn’t happen either and winter set in.  

During winter, it was as if there was a wall set up around one of the state borders, and it was made of ice and snow.  Where she lives, it occasionally snows, not as it does in the Mid-Atlantic region where I reside.  Too, her vehicle isn’t completely reliable in many ways, so driving a good distance isn’t recommended.  Another roadblock of sorts, that keeps us apart.  Of course, at this point, we talk about the big bugaboo, money.  Working full-time when you’re living alone doesn’t afford you a lot of ‘mad money’, or funds for outside activities.  Especially when you’re in an industry that doesn’t pay all that well, even when one has the experience.  So saving money ends up being literally nickels and dimes, which doesn’t afford one the ability to be free to travel.  The last two times we got together, I either paid the lion’s share of the costs or accepted what she could at that time afford to contribute.  The first time I rented a car and drove 10 hours to see her.  The second time, we met approximately midway between the two of us.  That time I drove the family vehicle.  I have to admit, I was pretty shocked how much it cost to rent a vehicle for a week the first time.  Astronomical was the word I believed I used then.

As the days count down towards the one year mark for the time we’ve been apart, it makes me more and more melancholy.  Sure, we keep in touch via social media, phone calls, texts and the like, but it’s most definitely not the same thing as being there.  Spending time with her, even if it’s just sitting on the couch, watching television together, or her sliding down off the couch to rest her head on my knee while we’re doing whatever.  Having that physical contact is key, and it’s what we’re missing. I hear about her adventures with her poly family, and honestly, it bothers me that she gets to have adventures, and I don’t.  I’ve been sitting here spinning my wheels for 344 days.  Too, it reminds me of the collar fiasco.  I thought about getting her another one, but if I’m not there to see it, to enjoy seeing it on her, what’s the point?  And besides, it’s another outlay of my money for her benefit.  So it too got shelved.

Finally, I’ve given up shopping for toys.  I have so many here that have no purpose, no use, other than taking up space in the house.  My wife looks at them, then at me, and doesn’t ask the question we both know she’s thinking.  “what are you going to do with all this stuff??”  Honestly, right now….nothing.

Ugh, this is hard to write.  But its harder still to endure.  I have no idea what the solution is, but I am extremely tired of waiting.  And watching.  And observing.  And being left out.

Bedtime.  Good night.

Time and Experience

I was thinking the other day, since I don’t have an active partner to play with, at least not here.  Still.  But as I said, I was thinking about all the time that I’ve spent in the scene, and how much of it I’ve actively participated.  When I say ‘participated’, I mean actually being there, with someone else, playing interactively.  Not online, not in a chat room, or on the phone, hot texting one another, or writing elaborate paper mails to one another, then waiting for them to read it several or many days later.  Then waiting again for the return letter and so on.

Actual ‘in the trenches‘ play time.  Where you get your hands dirty (as well as some other things).  Doing a little figuring, I came up with a rather sobering total.  And it wasn’t pretty.  By my estimation I’ve been part of the BDSM scene since I was about 18.  I’m not going to go into the nuts and bolts of that, because it’s not a good conversation to have here.  So let’s say 18 for the sake of argument, or who else might be reading things.  I’m now almost 54.  So that’s 36 years between the two.  In all of that time, what I would term my active experience comes out to a little less than 6 months.   6 MONTHS.  Told you it was a sobering thought.

Even now it makes me wonder how all of that time managed to skate past.  Though I know the old adages; Life gets in the way, finances don’t always come together, and the most often one, there’s no one to play with.  So you just sit back on your heels, live your ‘other’ life, and try to keep your hand in the game, by watching others enjoy themselves, going to munches, networking, doing a little negotiating, perhaps attend a play party here and there, but me, not being the voyeuristic type, doing that is just maddening, because I’m not a good watcher.  And yes, as I’ve mentioned time and again, building up a nice toy collection.  That now as before gathers dust in a couple bedrooms in my house.

Just throwing this out here, since it’s been hanging around in my head for a few days now and I need it out in the open.  Thanks for listening/reading.