So there I was, newly christened Wicked Jade.
The term "wicked jade" doesn't have anything to do with a gemstone -- it's a Victorian derogatory phrase used to describe a woman of loose morals. I love words, turns of phrases, especially things you don't hear every day.
I started out as a submissive to my Dominant husband.
Tried out switching with other people, didn't like it. Felt like trying to write with my left hand.
Also starting out: you want to do everything. Right. Fucking. Now.
It's a dangerous place to be, if you don't have someone watching over you. I think the role of "Protector" is one of the most underused roles in bdsm culture. It's so important to have someone you can trust watching over you, so you don't get in over your head. There are a lot of sharks swimming out there and they can't wait to get a bite our of a newbie.
Anyway...
I spent the first few years of my kink life trying to experience everything I could. I've bottomed for wax play, needles, flogging, spanking, paddling, violet wand. The only thing I've never done is a full suspension, mainly because the thought of me naked on ropes digging into my generous flesh whilst people are looking at me is kind of scary.
Over time, though, I found a certain place of comfort in my kink world, and once again, I started wondering "is this all there is."
I have this need to be useful. Ever watch Thomas the Tank Engine with some kids in your life? That's the goal in every train car's life: to be really useful. I want to be useful too. I am not pretty, not skinny, not exceptionally clever or smart, I don't really have any skills, except that I really like to serve. I really like to help people.
And thus we will segue into my next post, which will be about me, my religious faith (or what it's morphed into), and my need to serve.
In other news: date coming up in May to hang out with bootblacks and eat cake. Every step gets me a little closer. :-)
Monday, April 15, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
I Interrupt My Story...
...to tell you that I've been invited to serve as a bootblack at the NDDs Bootcamp in Maryland this May. In, like, 6 weeks! I will be working with the amazing Amelia-Chan.
I'm all happy and scared at the same time.
I have to log out now to go jump around my room now, will try not to scare the dogs.
SQUEEEEE!
I'm all happy and scared at the same time.
I have to log out now to go jump around my room now, will try not to scare the dogs.
SQUEEEEE!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Once Upon a Time
Don't the best stories open with that line?
If nothing else, it's a perfect writer's block-unblocker.
This is my story, or part of it, anyway.
Once upon a time, there was a woman in her late youth who had begun to look at the life she'd built, and wondered, "is this all there is?"
She had followed the rules. Gone to college, met her husband in college, started her career, and worked very hard to move up the corporate ladder.
About 10 years into the marriage, she and her husband had a baby, and that distracted her for a while. Taking care of something that needs 24/7 attention will do that to you. She put her career on hold, was diagnosed with postpartum depression, recovered. Went back to work, put the baby into day care.
And things were okay, for a while.
But then baby grew to toddler and then to kindergartener and then suddenly he was 10 and didn't need so much attention any more.
Around that time, something began to change. The woman became convinced that her husband was having an affair. He was going places and was vague about the location. There was something going on.
And then, her husband explained. He'd discovered the world of kink and bdsm. He was not sure how his wife would react, so he kept it quiet as long as he could. Until it was time to open the door to her, and see if she would step through with him.
He gave her a website, called Fetlife. His screen name was Moonracer. The woman logged in and began to explore and then grew curious about this strange place.
She was repelled at first, but fascinated. And began to feel something in her soul. It was scary. She had been such a good girl all her life. She had followed the rules. These people didn't follow the rules. Anything was possible.
And over time, the woman began to see the world that she had built around her - that she had boxed herself in so tight, her life had become boring and stagnant.
Closer and closer she approached. Came up with her first screen name, Jane1766. It was just temporary of course. And she began to make friends. And the online friends became friends in person, when she started going to munches.
At her first play party, she watched, fascinated, and wondered if she could ever do that. What would those spanks and hard punches feel like, the scrape of a knife, the drip of hot wax?
Finally, she had crept so close to the edge, she had to make a decision. Run? Or enter?
She opened the door, and stepped through, and so Wicked Jade was born.
If nothing else, it's a perfect writer's block-unblocker.
This is my story, or part of it, anyway.
Once upon a time, there was a woman in her late youth who had begun to look at the life she'd built, and wondered, "is this all there is?"
She had followed the rules. Gone to college, met her husband in college, started her career, and worked very hard to move up the corporate ladder.
About 10 years into the marriage, she and her husband had a baby, and that distracted her for a while. Taking care of something that needs 24/7 attention will do that to you. She put her career on hold, was diagnosed with postpartum depression, recovered. Went back to work, put the baby into day care.
And things were okay, for a while.
But then baby grew to toddler and then to kindergartener and then suddenly he was 10 and didn't need so much attention any more.
Around that time, something began to change. The woman became convinced that her husband was having an affair. He was going places and was vague about the location. There was something going on.
And then, her husband explained. He'd discovered the world of kink and bdsm. He was not sure how his wife would react, so he kept it quiet as long as he could. Until it was time to open the door to her, and see if she would step through with him.
He gave her a website, called Fetlife. His screen name was Moonracer. The woman logged in and began to explore and then grew curious about this strange place.
She was repelled at first, but fascinated. And began to feel something in her soul. It was scary. She had been such a good girl all her life. She had followed the rules. These people didn't follow the rules. Anything was possible.
And over time, the woman began to see the world that she had built around her - that she had boxed herself in so tight, her life had become boring and stagnant.
Closer and closer she approached. Came up with her first screen name, Jane1766. It was just temporary of course. And she began to make friends. And the online friends became friends in person, when she started going to munches.
At her first play party, she watched, fascinated, and wondered if she could ever do that. What would those spanks and hard punches feel like, the scrape of a knife, the drip of hot wax?
Finally, she had crept so close to the edge, she had to make a decision. Run? Or enter?
She opened the door, and stepped through, and so Wicked Jade was born.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Who Am I?
Good question.
Tonight I attended a munch and I noticed something about my behavior, now that my obsession with bootblacking is well-formed within me.
I always look at what shoes people are wearing. And if they are leather, and boots, I look at the condition. Dirty, scuffed, dull boots seem to cry out, "help me!" I think about what I would do with certain boots. How I would polish up the metal bits. This heel has a big scrape on it, would a little edge dressing help that? One pair of cowboy boots, this guy wears to every munch, and they are so dirty and scuffed with the little threads hanging off them, I just want to throw myself at his feet and beg him to let me clean them. Pathological? Perhaps, but at least I'm able to control myself.
;-)
I added something new to my blog today. It's the cover art for Laura Antoniou's new book, The Killer Wore Leather. I fell in love with her Marketplace series, and so I was thrilled to see this new direction in her writing. Please, if you haven't read her books, give them a try. And tell your friends, too.
One of the hallmarks of the Marketplace series is the exploration of character through storytelling. In the first book of the series, each of the slaves-in-training tells his or her story, about what led them to become who they are.
I, too, will tell you my story, and I hope it might resonate with yours. Or at least a facet of yours. Just today I was asked why I want to become a bootblack. I can't really explain why I want to be a bootblack without telling my story. So we have to back up a bit.
In my next post, I will start from the beginning. Not at birth, of course...I won't bore you to death with that...from the beginning of my kinky life, and how it led to where I am now, and what it all has to do with bootblacking.
Tonight I attended a munch and I noticed something about my behavior, now that my obsession with bootblacking is well-formed within me.
I always look at what shoes people are wearing. And if they are leather, and boots, I look at the condition. Dirty, scuffed, dull boots seem to cry out, "help me!" I think about what I would do with certain boots. How I would polish up the metal bits. This heel has a big scrape on it, would a little edge dressing help that? One pair of cowboy boots, this guy wears to every munch, and they are so dirty and scuffed with the little threads hanging off them, I just want to throw myself at his feet and beg him to let me clean them. Pathological? Perhaps, but at least I'm able to control myself.
;-)
I added something new to my blog today. It's the cover art for Laura Antoniou's new book, The Killer Wore Leather. I fell in love with her Marketplace series, and so I was thrilled to see this new direction in her writing. Please, if you haven't read her books, give them a try. And tell your friends, too.
One of the hallmarks of the Marketplace series is the exploration of character through storytelling. In the first book of the series, each of the slaves-in-training tells his or her story, about what led them to become who they are.
I, too, will tell you my story, and I hope it might resonate with yours. Or at least a facet of yours. Just today I was asked why I want to become a bootblack. I can't really explain why I want to be a bootblack without telling my story. So we have to back up a bit.
In my next post, I will start from the beginning. Not at birth, of course...I won't bore you to death with that...from the beginning of my kinky life, and how it led to where I am now, and what it all has to do with bootblacking.
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