Ok… compartmentalize this shit.

You know what? I’m still pissed he said that. It’s not cool. I have a real problem with that.

But I had a really really really really really good night.

When you have to tell someone to stop making you orgasm because you just can’t bear how much your legs are cramping from muscle spasms?

That’s an incredible night.

No you don’t need a lot of toys. You need your hands. Your delicious, evil hands. Punch me. Punch me over and over and over and over all over.

Even when I really don’t like it there. Even when I’m going to pay for that for a while.

Why?

Why is this so explosively hot?

I don’t know. It just is. I’m trying to think about the scene and get back to my buzz so I can go give Noah a proper thank-you fucking. I was really fucking angry when we got home and I didn’t want to be touched.

But I’m… chilling out.

Even though my trophies are lovely I have never and will never get bruises that seriously impress me. The most impressive fucking bruises ever were from a water skiing oops when I was 18 and I’d never heard of bdsm. I was there with Pam. She doesn’t even remember my impressive bruises. I’m so sad. My inner thighs. My entire inner thighs were black for weeks. I screamed so loud they heard me on shore. We were on Clear Lake. It’s not a small lake and we were way the hell out.

So yeah. Comparisons are funny.

Perspective is funny.

Life is funny.

The fact that being punched in my ass can make me get off is funny.

And wonderful.

Why the fuck shouldn’t I do it?

I really can’t come up with a good reason. I’m fucking thrilled we already have more dates on the calendar.

One of them is a private date. I might be able to talk him into fucking me again. After several beatings in a row in public where he won’t…

I’m going to be so annoying.

He might just have to fuck me first, then beat me. Because god damn. Ok, I don’t think he would agree to me just being a snot and ordering him about. But it is funny to think about.

I’ve lived with Noah a long time. Sex is ready and available any time the kids are occupied and I’m interested. Any. Time.

God I love you Noah.

I have almost finished talking myself into coming in and fucking you.

I’m… not sorry exactly that I got so mad. I really have a problem with bully posturing. But I’m annoyed that it has interrupted my sleep cycle and our sex life this much. I’m trying to deal with it fast.

Remember when this used to take a week or more?

I’ve come a long way.

Compartmentalize.

I have completely and totally no idea what to think about this. I mean… I don’t know what part of my life this anger will alter. I don’t know what boundaries will change.

But I know I have no desire in any way shape or form to penalize the partner of this person for these words.

She didn’t fucking say it.

So yeah. Complicated. Big feelings.

*beat head on wall*

You know what… one of my play partners crossed a boundary recently. I said “Don’t slap my face” and the first thing he did was slap my face. I burst into tears and freaked out. He realized that he fucked up and apologized.

I don’t think he should be threatened with bodily harm because he fucked up.

Sigh.

What do I want here? I want to stop thinking about this because there is completely and totally literally nothing I can do about it.

And that kinda sucks.

I feel sad and kinda helpless.

I suspect that if I’m in a room with this person I will need to turn on my heel and walk away. Or just very consciously not go to rooms where I think he might be. Which… is really sad.

Threatening to break someone’s legs… even in jest is a fucking boundary for me.

I get to have that. It’s not being an over sensitive baby. That’s a god damn reasonable boundary. Noah gets to figure out his own boundaries.

I won’t be around someone who will do that. They aren’t safe. I don’t care how safe they have been to or with other people. Nope.

It doesn’t matter if he would ever do it. He said it.

That’s too much for me.

That hurts me. That makes me feel like shit. That makes me feel scared as fuck. That makes me feel like I might need to fucking attack someone to get them the fuck off my husband.

I don’t like this feeling one little bit.

It’s ok that this freaks me out.

It’s ok that I have this as a limit. I don’t have to be ok with “jokes” that are violent. I don’t have to be ok with casual threats.

Even if they aren’t to me.

I know this has been the all-slutty-all-the-time channel lately but…

Noah is my life.

Threatening Noah’s body is threatening my life.

I don’t have to accept that. I don’t have to excuse or justify that boundary. That’s allowed to make me angry.

But mostly I’m so so so so sad.

I want to feel relaxed and tight and sore and hot from what I did tonight. No, he can’t fist me when my legs are cramping so badly I’m screaming non-stop through every orgasm.

Let’s try that again without the leg punching first.

I left that party with my entire body feeling on fire. I planned to fuck Noah silly and pass out.

But Noah and I needed to talk about the party. Because yeah. We do.

AHHHHHHHH. We got home almost two hours ago. I’m still consciously working on not gritting my teeth. My dentist is very adamant that I’m not allowed to crack more teeth as anger management. We have stern conversations every six months.

He doesn’t really want me to have to pay for a new implant. Breaking that would suck. I mean, the teeth I’ve broken have been bad enough… oh god. I need to be careful with the implant.

How do people live in bodies without destroying themselves? My fingers are saying that I’m a big selfish cunt right now. This whole organism that wants to type. Fuck you brain. Go the fuck to sleep. Calm the fuck down. Your fingers are not able to do this forever you know.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’ll get over it. I will. It’s 4:12. How long will it take. Shit.

I’M NOT OVER IT YET. But it’s kinda like that TMBG song where the guy is waiting for his date and staring at a clock and it never moves. It is still 4:12. No wonder I’m not over it yet.

Would it be weird if I went to the missed connections section of the party and said I’d be interested in dictating to that dude who types 150 words/minute in exchange for play. I could totally do that.

Ha.

Uhm, I’m not explaining that.

And I’m not serious. I really don’t have time. But it was a funny few seconds of thinking.

Ahem. I’m trying to cheer myself up. And be interested in sex. Because REASONS.

I’ll feel better afterwards. Now it is 4:15. I still ain’t over it.

But I’m taking breaks to stretch my shoulders. I was dumb to try and stick it out with my hands over my head.

Note to self: don’t be macho before play has started. Fuck that shit.

Ow my shoulders.

I’m not entirely sure how I felt about the rib punching. It was… hot.. super fucking painful… and deeply… God I don’t know the word for this. Everything I’m thinking of is wrong. It’s not about “primal” (I kinda cringe when I hear that word) it’s not about submission exactly because we don’t have a dynamic exactly…

I don’t know.

I don’t know what that feeling is. It scares me and I’m ok with that. Noah and I talk a whole bunch about the scenes I do and he talks about the ways in which he reads my faces and says “When x happened you seemed unhappy. Why?”

God I love the way that man looks at me.

Cupid wasn’t giving me a light sensual beating for “strong sensation”. He was… deliberately hurting me. In ways that weren’t fun and I was cringing away from and crying.

That makes my cunt throb.

That’s what I don’t know how to do with Noah. I don’t know how to let him hurt me quite like that. I always stop him. We always retreat from those really dark places.

Well, not always. Heh. But Noah doesn’t beat me till I’m cringing and crying unless we are deep in role play and it is ok to treat that character like that.

Cupid thinks it is ok to treat me like that.

It’s… different…

Which… it is ok for him to do. Because we negotiated extensively in advance like grown ups. We talked about limits and interests and desires and now we are figuring out how those things really mesh.

God damn I think it’s awesome.

And kissing him gets better every time I see him. I’m not… used to that? I don’t know. Usually people kiss about how they kiss and I like it how much I like it pretty much from day one. I liked it on day one and I like it more now. It being the kissing, of course. But I dropped a modifier.

It isn’t that I think I’m falling more in love with him. That’s not it. I… I don’t know?

I feel like I don’t know much of anything any more.

It’s 4:30. I can go to bed now.

So we got home right around 2:20. Noah probably told me this around 1:45ish? Closer to 2 maybe cause I think we were at the 92 when he said it.

That’s… pretty good for me. I’ll take it.

I feel lucky. I feel like my life is just about magical.

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