Preparations

"latex model sweden teapot tattoo" was a search term someone used on google and got this blog as a hit. I guess whomever that was must be disappointed. The only thing there is about latex here is references to me being allergic.

But I guess there's probably a gorgeous model photo shoot out there with a girl in latex who has a teapot tattoo.

I want a chain tattoo, around my left ankle, in all the colours of the rainbow and with a golden heart shaped padlock on the inside of the leg, just between the malleous and the Achille's tendon. Only that requires me to actually take some initiative, like going in to the tattoo parlour I pass every time I go and get milk in the grocery store and book an appointment. For something I've been wanting for like two years, I'm showing a remarkable lack of actual action.

I think part of me is hesitant simply because I want it as a symbol for Mistress ownership over me, or maybe as a symbol of the life I lead and the person I am now, and have a hard time getting over the idea that it's her who should be doing the booking.

But Mistress isn't very inclined to book appointments at tattoo places. Not only do they intimidate both her and me, I think she's simply to busy with the everyday stuff. It's a long standing division of labour between us - handling the visionary, the stuff born from imagination, the dream and the future, is often my job. I'm the one who is supposed to lobby for the fun stuff - she decides what we'll do and makes it happen. So if I'm hesitant, nothing much is going to happen.

We had set a date for our ceremony in March. It came and went without much comment. One of the reasons, the main one, is that we've been crazy busy. Another one, I think, is that again, we're both a little intimidated. I know I am. I want it to be just right, but I'm extremely shy and a little embarrassed, and it's just... going slow.

But at the same time, I think we're preparing on the quiet. All this cutting me, for example, came about when we talked about her drawing blood from me and her during the ceremony. How much blood? From where? With what? Wont it get infected? Does she know how to do it?

Well, now she has two cool knifes, we know she can do it, and that it heals pretty fast and the risk for infection is low. If it was actual preparation, I would mark it on a list. As it is, I mark it on a list in my head.

I'm actually wearing the collar now, too. Not instead of a ceremony, but... in waiting for one. I sleep collared, but after two years of wear, the dog collar I used to have fell apart. Dogs don't sweat, but humans do, and eventually it didn't hold up. Instead of buying a new temporary one she used the permanent one over a weekend, and in the end neither one of us wanted her to take it off.

I think that was another thing about the ceremony - what if she puts this fancy collar on me with all sorts of pomp and circumstance, and then it turns out that it hurts me, for example? Or people point and stare? Or it starts... I don't know, rusting? That was another worry, would the collar in question actually work for permanent use?

It does. I've had it on me for a couple of weeks now, and I love it. I usually don't notice it, but when I do it gives me this great feeling of belonging and safety. I've been waiting for comments, from class mates or family or friends, but there has been none. I want to think it's because it looks so right were it is, as if it's always been there (in a more symbolic way, it has been there for the last five or six years or so...)

Another thing I've been doing is practising a song. There's this song written by a Swedish comedian, author and LGBT-activist named Jonas Gardell that I love, and that I suddenly decided I want to sing to Mistress at the ceremony. I can't actually think of something more horrifying, being cut up and vouching away my freedom forever is nothing compared to me trying to sing in public, but if for no other reason than that, I'm going to do it. I want the song sung to her, and it doesn't make sense from someone else than me.

So I practice - I listen to it, and then I record my own feeble attempts and listen back to it, trying to adjust and correct each time. When I grew up I was told and believed I was one of those persons that "can't sing". Now as an adult I know there is no such persons, but not having tried it for most of my life is a definite disadvantage. But since little S came along I've been singing and singing and singing every day, and to a very forgiving audience, and now I think I can sing. A little bit. At least I don't shatter glass.

Or maybe we'll only invite people who are tone deaf? Or completely dead. Or maybe I'll just chicken out and read the whole thing instead. But anyway, preparations are going ahead. On the quiet.

Valentine's Day and first blood

I hadn't thought we would, but we actually did celebrate Valentine's Day. I studied from home and Mistress had a meeting in town in the morning, and came home for lunch and then we took the rest of the afternoon off. We had lunch together and then we went to the local mall and shopped, a little groceries, a dress and a teddy bear for little S, and most especially, a knife. Oh, and some ginger.

I actually got Mistress a knife for Christmas, but somehow we misplaced it and hasn't found it again. I suggested that we should simply buy a new one, and to my great surprise she agreed. So we did. It's a little smaller than the first one, and with a shiny steel blade instead of a black one, but still very cool and a little evil-looking.

When we got home, after a latte and cute pink cakes with hearts on them at a coffee shop, Mistress pondered a bit whether to play with me or work but in the end decided to... play with me! I think that was about the third or fourth happy surprise I got today. She bound me with rope to the bed, and proceeded to cut me with the knife.

A pretty heart for Valentine's. The dark spots is were she drew blood.

It was the first time either of us did anything with knifes in a BDSM sense, and it was intense. I mean, I'm sure it didn't look it, it was all very serene and calm and quiet actually, but the sensations. Oh my God! It was like taking a fast elevator straight in to subspace. In about half a minute my breathing had slowed to a minimum and I was floating in perfect awareness and acceptance, a state it usually takes me a good long time of whipping to achieve. The mere concept of being bound hand and foot without being able to get loose and having someone with a big knife above me, carving in to me - it had an enormous impact. Even if the person in question was Mistress, and the cuts were short and shallow.

It impacted Mistress too, she told me that when she let up she was feeling a bit faint, and afterwards we cuddled for a long long time. It was a while since we did something completely new together, and we were reminded of how it used to be in the beginning, when every session led to hours of after care and shaky knees. We don't usually need that nowadays, but this was intense. And very very cool.

 And for once, she took pictures. I'm usually the photographer of us, and I don't have that many pictures of me in these kinds of situation. Anyway, this is me, and this is our bed, and Mistress' ingenious way of making sure I'm not going anywhere with a minimum amount of fuss. It's a good bondage bed, this one.

Bound to hands and feet, and with a pretty heart carved on the right shoulder blade.

I kind of like the fact that there's clothes hanging on the bed and that there's a red sock waving at us in the left corner. This isn't a very fancy shot, but then again, that isn't what it's all about. Not this blog and not our life. This is just it. This is what it looks like at our place when Mistress tells me to take my clothes off and lay down on the bed a Thursday afternoon when we happen to have time on our hands.

And I like it. I like our non-glamorous but very loving and very interesting life.