the bird makes me old

Doing new things is hard! Sometimes, anyway. Especially when they are things that make me feel out of my element, like an outsider, not part of the club.

NO! I’m not talking about dirty things! I love doing new dirty things, experiencing new BDSM related things, new play, new toys, new marks. I wish I were reporting on that today.

This new is technology related. I know – groan, hiss, eyeroll. How boring. My struggle is REAL though. I started a Twitter account to go along with my Etsy account, same name as that. I’ve never much cared for Twitter (insert old age jokes here), though I have had a personal one for years. My Etsy shop is very small, but business has been pretty steady and the BDSM pins have been a huge hit. That’s pretty awesome and unexpected, but I would like to get a little more traffic to increase the sales of our higher-end items – the bars and the spanky things. I’ve been struggling with the logistics, but Sir uses Twitter to promote his podcast and Etsy shop and He seems to get a lot of hits from it, so I thought I’d give it a whirl.

I made the g&P account and of course needed to label it as adult, which then required me to allow myself to see questionable material. First of all, my old ass didn’t even realize there was full on porn on Twitter. HA! Surprise! Yippie! Twitter is a whole new world with that little toggle on! I pinned a silly little intro post and put what I thought were relevant tags. How will I get followers I thought?! Perhaps I should SEARCH the tags that I put to find like-minded folk. I found things! A lot of cam girls, and Dominatrix profiles and people selling nekkid photos. Nothing wrong with ANY of those things, at all. I’m not against them in the least. It’s just not the kind of thing that I’m looking for right now. Those circles aren’t really going to accomplish anything for my business… also I am not sure that they are all legit anyway. I certainly don’t want to deal with a lot of bots.

The account has been open a week. Of course there are no followers. Because I do NOT know what I’m doing. I don’t know what tags to use, I don’t know how to come off as a real person or a business. (I just had the funniest thought: I don’t know how to come off as a real person in actual LIFE either. Maybe that’s just my personality.)  =) I really don’t know where to start, so I have a followed a few people whose blogs I follow and then people they retweet. Yes. Like a weirdo stalker. I’m going to keep trying to find my place. On Twitter. In blogland. In life. One day, I may stumble into where I belong! Here’s hoping.

There’s not a whole lot going on with this post, I just wanted to regale you all with the tale of how I am not suited for Twitter. How, at age 41, I feel like such an old lady trying to figure out the interwebs that all the kids are talking about.
*I’m still a dirty, submissive old lady so that has to count for something! Right?!

Happy weekend, y’all!
~shygirl

I have debated with myself for ten minutes on whether or not I should post links to Etsy or Twitter. I am horrible at promotion, much less self-promotion. And Twitter is a whole lot of nothing at the moment. But I’m certainly not forcing you to click the links so maybe it’s not too pushy. Aarghhhhh. Click or don’t, it’s all good.

twitter: @glitterandPlaid
etsy.com/shop/glitterandplaid

the right side of pain

I find myself in the bathtub, water cooling off, wishing there were someone I could talk to. Longing for a somebody to share the deeper aspects of my life with. I have Sir, yes I do, and He is my favorite and there is nothing I cannot tell Him. But I mean… A friend, a commiserator, a person in the lifestyle. Then I remembered – I have a blog where no one knows my day to day. A place where no one can judge me because yeah, they don’t know me, but bigger than that… The people aren’t there to tear me down. They can relate or they cannot. They can offer insight or they can offer solidarity. We aren’t in competition, and I cannot lose. But on the best of days, I can gain so much! 

I missed this. I have missed writing like this, anonymous but somehow my truest self. I stepped back because… Life went sideways. The last day of May, life as I knew it imploded. The months since have been hard. Soul-crushingly hard, but I am actually really thankful. It took all these months to realize that the struggle with our daughter has been the shittiest experience, but also a huge blessing. 

It’s hard to say that. It shouldn’t take the threat of a child’s suicide for a mother to recognize the ways in which she’s failed. But that’s a thing that happened and I am forever changed. 

However… That is the WRONG fucking side of pain. Wrong for her, wrong for me,  wrong for our family, wrong for Sir, wrong for D/s, wrong for life. That is the destructive, sinking, WRONG side of pain.

But there is a RIGHT side of pain. Once you pass that hurdle, you turn a corner, you face the ugly truths, and you come out better… That’s the right side.

Like when… 

Your Sir is raining down blows from the cane, warming you up, steadily increasing the force. 

Maybe you are wiggling, the room is getting too hot to take. Your mind cannot get away from all that shit in your head. You might tell Him you can’t take anymore, that really, seriously you are done. But you don’t safeword. No, not quite to that point, but you might be thinking about it. 

All the while your Sir continues bringing that cane down, telling you what a good girl you are and reminding you that you ARE already taking it. 

And then it happens… That one word, that one strike…  That moment that everything gives over. Your mind blanks on anything but the present, your breathing slows, you take in a shaky breath, and you are there. 

You are in the moment, you are nothing and everything, and you are confident that there is nothing you can’t take. You don’t fight or protest, you still and absorb it all. Each time the cane hits, it is love and desire; the most perfect symphony in all the world. It is overwhelming and it is freeing and you will probably orgasm because it is all just so good. You, Sir, struggle, defeat, victory, orgasm. And when that coveted pain brings you to a higher level of being?? That is magical.

That is the right side of pain. 
Happy weekend everyone. 

~shygirl

sticky words v.2

He bends me over the bed and spanks me with the metal loop. The pain from this is sting-y and thuddy and radiates from the point of impact to my pussy, to my brain. It is so good, but also so much, and I cry out. No. Stop. I can’t take it.

Sir doesn’t stop, He reminds me that I am taking it and to let go. Ride it. I do. He continues for a while,  but this toy he’s made is some vicious so He stops before I’m ready (or is it long after I’ve had too much?).

I cannot remember if His leash is on me this night, but no matter… He leads me to the rug at the foot of the bed and orders ‘floor’. I assume the position and He begins a new set of blows to my heated bottom. I also don’t recall which instrument He uses here… The cane? The cat o’nine? Flogger? Whip? I was pretty far gone, one moment blurring to the next. The blows stop and He commands ‘humble’. I comply but Sir wants an overarched humble… Putting all of me on display. No hiding the goods in that position! I swallow my embarrassment and He does things with His mouth that about send me over. Before I do, He comments on how wet I am and takes me hard, not on His knees behind me, but doing deep squats from above. As always, this position feels so primal and urgent and dirty (and noisy). I have orgasm after orgasm… Not worried about the carpet burns that are likely on my face, arms, knees. 

When we finish, Sir helps me into bed, and goes to clean up. When He returns, He bends down and recounts everything that just happened, in great, graphic detail. It’s just as hot as when it happened, and I feel the heavenly pressure building. I try to get Him to stop… Sometimes I get a bit self-conscious about all the weird ways I orgasm… But Sir ups the game, using all the dirty words, demanding that I come. And I do. I orgasm from His words alone. It is so fucking good, Sir’s command of my body amazes me. 

Words have power. Words stick (and make slick and evoke explosive reactions), so be careful what you say.

🙂

Happy Friday!!! 

~shygirl