November 2007

T. and I are still in the process of getting his house ready to move me in, which must happen at the end of the month, as my apartment lease will be up. I haven’t packed anything yet, but hey — it’s only the 20th.

Still, all the home renovations and such have taken up pretty much all of the spare energy we have these days (or at least *mine*; if T. has energy to spare, he’s expending it when I’m not around, apparently).

However, yesterday was T.’s birthday, and we managed to celebrate in a suitable manner. I pulled out my rope (and Lee Harrington’s book Shibari You Can Use [yes, I used a how-to book while tying up my boyfriend; how else am I supposed to do it? I don’t have a practice dummy to tie up, which would be boring anyway]), and tied a chest harness on him (also referred to as a shinju).

Once I had him nice and secure, I put clamps on his nipples and enacted various torments on him. And, because it was his birthday, I gave him his birthday spanking, as is right and proper.

Well, okay, here’s the truth about that “spanking” thing: I am a really, really crappy spanker. The bare-hand, smack-your-ass type spanking, I mean. I told T. that it was because his ass is so small (which it IS, good god!), but mostly I just think I’m impaired at bare-handed spanking. So I alternated between a bamboo back-scratcher, a riding crop, a leather flogger, and once even the Shibari You Can Use book, which was effective simply for being so unexpected.

Really, I think a good old-fashioned birthday flogging is best.

And then when that was done, I sat him down on my bed while I laid down on the floor, and let him watch me get myself off. All of which was going swimmingly — I even threw in a little taunting about how he couldn’t help because he was all tied up, etc. (and normally I don’t have the presence of mind to quip when an orgasm is in the vicinity) — until I was about 5 seconds from having an orgasm.

All of a sudden, a seriously HUGE whammy of a headache came out of nowhere, and I grabbed my head and gasped. And that, of course, looked like an orgasm, so T. didn’t react with alarm, which in retrospect is good, because he was tied up anyway, and I wouldn’t have wanted him to panic or experience non-consensual distress on his birthday.

Once I stopped gasping, I said, “Gah….headache….horrible….orgasm headache!” And T. made sympathetic noises while I drank some water. Then I untied him and got horizontal on my bed, hoping that my brain wasn’t about to explode and trickle out my ears.

While I recuperated, I had the hot hot oh god fucking HOT thrill of watching T. get himself off (and it wasn’t even *my* birthday!).

Thanks to the wonders of Google, it seems my orgasm-related headache (which has happened before, but not recently) is, in fact, in the category of sexual benign headaches, specifically “orgasmic headache” or “orgasmic cephalalgia”:

“In some instances, the headache is a response to an increase in blood pressure, in which the blood vessels dilate. The headache is not usually related to the amount of physical exertion involved in intercourse. The pain may be located around or behind the eyes. It usually lasts a few minutes, but can last for hours. The headache is usually made worse by movement. The headache most often is a ‘benign’ orgasmic headache; however, the possibility of organic disease should be thoroughly investigated.

“A headache occurring with orgasm could be a symptom of a brain hemorrhage (bleeding around or inside the brain), stroke or tumor. An accompanying stiffness in the neck may be an indication of bleeding into the spinal fluid. The benign orgasmic headache occurs more frequently in men than women and usually strikes migraine sufferers.

“Benign orgasmic headache is often effectively treated with migraine medications such as blood-vessel constricting agents, taken before intercourse.”

I seriously doubt it’s a brain hemorrhage, stroke, or tumor (though stroke DID cross my mind while it was happening). I tend to get migraines, which — according to this description — makes me more likely to have a “sexual benign headache.”

I don’t recommend it.

I haven’t been posting lately because (1) much of my free time is taken up with T., but not in a kinky way — I’m moving in with him at the end of the month [I have an apartment, he has a house and dogs; hence, I’m moving there rather than vice versa], and because he’s lived alone for a handful of years, the house needs to be made Teppycat-friendly, which entails ripping out the [extremely old, extremely manky] carpet and then cleaning/restoring the hardwood floors, along with other pre-moving-in tasks; and (2) I’m prone to wrist tendinitis, and in the past few weeks it’s flared up pretty badly, so I’ve been minimzing computer time as much as possible.

Hey, that was all one sentence. That’s….scary.

The wrist tendinitis ALSO means that there isn’t a whole lot I can do in the way of kinky activity; at least, not the kind of activity that T. and I prefer. When he submits, he loves lots of physical restraint, preferably rope. Lots and lots of rope.

And my wrists will not allow me to tie knots right now; not for bondage, at least. Even tying my shoelaces is a little difficult.

My tendinitis also won’t let me flog/beat/cane/etc. T., which is something else he loves. He’s not exactly a pain slut, but he loves being in situations that force him to struggle (hence the combination of pain while being securely restrained; he has something to struggle against, which is just about his favorite thing). So I’m not much of a top these days.

To be fair, there’s lots of topping/domination I could do that doesn’t involve restraints or impact play at all. I know that. However, that isn’t where T.’s interests lie, so we haven’t gone that way just yet. Plus, I’m so freaking *tired* after working on the house (particularly the damned floors, which really will look amazing when we’re done, but ye gods, they’re a lot of work), I don’t have the energy to be toppy.

I could be bottom-y — T. pointed out that ponyplay would be kind to my wrists, because we can (and often do) just leave my hands/wrists unbound when I pony up. Actually, I have wrist splints that I wear when I sleep, to keep my wrists in a neutral position, and they’re very solid and nonflexible; T. said that I could wear *those* as a pony, and they’d work quite well as makeshift hooves.

Which I’m more than willing to do, but, like I said above, all our energy is going into the house — and getting me moved into it — for the time being. After the end of the month, we should be back to baseline levels of kink. (We damned well SHOULD be!)