Welcome back!

This is the back of the harness that Artemis put on me. She did beautiful weaving on the back so that I would be able to lay down on it and not have any knots digging in.

After getting the harness in place I was molested. Significantly. Implements used included a violet wand, an e-stim kit, a Hitachi, and wax that was melted using a blow torch.

After 3 hours had passed, she set me free. The rope marks were beautiful.

Tomorrow night I have a pretty fabulous play date. I am blissfully in the dark about what will be happening to me. However, I know there will be rope skillfully applied by a brilliant artist. There will also be a wicked sadist, giving a generous dose of pain. I’ve been asked to bring my toy bag as well so I know there will also be some delicious vibrations.

Am I nervous about being left in the dark? Well, a little bit but I’m also beside myself with excitement. So here I am, ass out, waiting for the first swat and expecting to be taken but not knowing where.

These are some of my favorite panties. They are simple and cotton and cute. And I like how my ass looks in them. I don’t have any particular memories of them (although I’m sure they have been peeled off of me during a variety of sexy moments.) I just know I like them a lot.

Sad thing is, they need to be put out to pasture. See, they still look cute and colorful but too many washings has degraded the elastic. That coupled with a bit of weight loss means that they just don’t stay up anymore. They slide off my hips easily when I stand and move around.

Today, walking across campus with a student, I felt them sliding. I am wearing a dress today. As we made our way to the library I try to tug at them inconspicuously without pulling my dress up over my hips. I clench my knees together and take smaller steps hoping that I don’t become a living Art Frahm pinup (there are worse things to become, but I didn’t even have any celery!)

When we arrived at the library I excused myself to the bathroom to remove the runaway panties, and stashed them in my purse. What a pity to be gallivanting around the library panty-less and in a sun dress with no elicit purposes and no one to blame other than the man who ensured the manufactured obsolescence of the elastic.

So, raise a pint (or pour a drop, whatever your style is) for my cotton panties with the little pink flowers. They will be immortalized here on this Half Nekkid Thursday, but my ass just won’t be the same without them.

A few days ago I was thinking. I was also being fingered. Neither of those two occurrences are peculiar in isolation but they are usually independent of each other. Nonetheless, as Jay slid one hand under me to cup my ass and deftly worked at my pussy with the fingers of his remaining hand, I found myself in thought.

I quickly realized that these were thoughts I have had before.

Over, I thought. Yes, right there on my clit. Mmm, with your thumb, that is lovely.

I was thinking these things and they were happening. I looked at Jay and he was intently focused on my pussy and nibbling on my hip. I listened carefully, was I speaking?

I heard the sound of my wetness being stirred up. I heard my own moans and my breath catching in my throat as I shifted my hips to meet his touches. But I didn’t hear myself issuing directions.

This is when it hit me. Jay touches me in the exact way I want to be touched. He anticipates what will make me squirm and quiver. He seems to deliver it instantaneously, as the thought crosses my mind. Or perhaps before.

His touch is part of my body’s memory – the history and geography of who I am and how I feel. Thinking of his hands on me is soothing, it feels like home, and it makes me slick just from the memories.

I have been trying to consolidate and organize things around here. You might notice the new theme (snappy, huh?) and that I did some blogroll cleanup. While in the process, I went digging through the earliest version of this blog that lived on Livejournal (in early 2005). Turns out that I posted tons of pictures there that I don’t think have appeared here before. I uploaded them all to Flickr, here are a few samples. Notice the poor composition, grainy resolution, and general cam-whorishness:

The rest of the batch live here.

New slip :)

Originally uploaded by lumpesse

I was talking to D just a moment ago (holy crap, why is he so hot?) and released some pent-up aggression and rage about sex blogging at him. Carry on – if you don’t hate me now, you might pretty soon.

Ellie: Yeah, I’m just feeling like I should go back to being a boring blog attention whore and stop trying to think
Ellie: ::giggle:: here are my tits, ooh I got fucked so hard last night
Ellie: that is the only thing anyone responds to
Ellie: not that I”m trying to elicit a response
D: I think it’s sexy when you think, and then include a picture of cum covered ass
Ellie: yeah, that was sort a big “fuck you” though, don’t you think?
D: I like the challenge of thinking with limited blood rushing to my penis
Ellie: lol
Ellie: I think I’m just being a bitch lately.
Ellie: Like I’m really bored by sex.
Ellie: Well, not sex, the way people talk about it.
Ellie: For pure titillation.
D: ok, I was confused for a minute
Ellie: Mostly, I read the Sugasm this week and only found 2 things I wanted to finish reading much less vote for.
Ellie: The sexual education is the same information I’ve heard a million times.
Ellie: The BDSM blogs mostly make me want to gouge my eyes out because of the aggressive takedown of the English language that they are trying to stage.
Ellie: and most of the single chicks with shitty webcam photos. . .ugh
Ellie: and I have no doubt that these people are all very interesting but they fucking conform to this silly set of memes and expectations
Ellie: sex blogging doesn’t feel any more exciting or revolutionary than food blogging
Ellie: but at least I read food blogs and think “hmmm, I want to try that recipe”

Now, I won’t argue with you that I am a total cunt here. Also a pretentious asshole. I remember when I first started this and it was fresh and exciting and who am I to begrudge someone else their early moments in the sun and the excitement and titillation of exhibitionism?

Oh yeah, I got fucked last night with my legs up over my head. Jay pounded me until I screamed. I’m sure it woke the neighbors.

Here is a blurry picture of my tits and about an eighth of my books:

Yep, still feels mundane. Sigh. . .

Well, maybe not really. But they are pink with scandalous/ized French phrases on them: