This is probably one of those “too much information” posts, but recently I was chatting with some online friends about the subject of self-imposed chastity, or what I like to call self denial, where you limit the number of orgasms that you allow yourself during a given time period. This is obviously quite different from wearing an actual chastity device, a subject which also intrigues me, but not something I’ve ever tried. Instead of the control being imposed by a device and someone who perhaps holds the key for it (that does sound like fun, though the logistics of going to the gym and so on seem tricky), self denial on the other hand is simply using your willpower to keep yourself from masturbating and allowing the sexual tension to build up over time. I’ve found that I always enjoy my kinks and interests more if I have fewer orgasms and, not surprisingly, after a couple weeks of no release I find that when my mind turns to such things there’s usually a heightened intensity to them. Sometimes it’ll be pretty easy to go days at a time without any release, and other times it’s all I can do to not find some sexy pictures on Fetlife or Flickr and get it done!

Well, I haven’t done this sort of thing in quite a while, but I was thinking about it last month, so I decided to try to limit myself to one orgasm for the month of July and then see how the rest of the summer goes (thankfully FetishCon is at the end of the month – if any event can destroy my willpower that one certainly could). So far here we are on the early morning of day sixteen (just got back from Friday night karaoke) and surprisingly it hasn’t been too difficult, though I had a few tough moments when I saw some nice bondage pictures and some pictures of a very cute CD a few days ago that got to me pretty bad. We shall see how the rest of the month goes. I really don’t know how long I’ll last, or if I’ll be able to keep this up (so to speak) and of course I could always call in my one orgasm tomorrow, though that would leave the rest of the month ahead of me with no release at all, so I’d rather save it till the end of the month. Just as an aside, the longest I ever held myself back was actually two months and that was when I was a terribly guilt-ridden eighteen-year-old. I still don’t know how I lasted that long at such an early age, though my reasons for doing it were motivated by guilt and self-loathing then; whereas now it’s almost like an extended period of foreplay (as an online friend said). I’ll most likely be posting more updates here as things progress, for better or worse…

And just before heading out the door Friday night for the Santa Fe Tavern…And that same shiny blouse will be in the next update on the site.

A while back I posted some pictures from a French CD who had made some really terrific damsel in distress drawings. A few weeks later I heard from Gwen in Corsica who’s friends with the girl who drew the pictures (I should have thought of asking Gwen years ago, as she seems to know everyone in Europe!) Gwen very kindly put me in touch with the mysterious artist, who left a nice blog comment. It was a real thrill to be chatting with Catherine Nylon, who indeed made the drawings in question (though she insists that she’s no artist – just someone who likes to draw her fantasies). I’ve wondered for over ten years who produced them, so it really did feel like a mystery finally being solved. We’ve been exchanging some emails and Catherine very generously agreed to let me post some more of her drawings here and a few of her self-bondage photos, which are also very nicely done and reflect her same interests that we see in her drawings.

My old high school French is really bad but I’ve been able to get the gist (sort of) of some of the captions on the drawings, which I’ll post below, referring to them with numbers from left to right, top to bottom. The numerous mistakes are of course my own.

1. Isabelle is the young servant of Myriam, who enjoys tormenting the young girl according to her whim. Having done a bad job at housekeeping, she’s bound and gagged the young girl to a post in the basement. “There you are Isabelle dear, tightly bound and gagged. I’m going to leave you here all day; that will teach you to do the housework!”

2. (This one is tough!) “There, my little pretty one. You’d better be smart or I’ll do something nasty to your pretty face!” Now at the hands of a dangerous psychopath…(the rest of it eludes me, something about poor Gwendoline).

3. NA

4. “It’s going to be hard to keep my hands off you, my pretty one, but now that I have you, I’m sure your father will pay me a nice ransom if he ever wants to see his little dear again safe and sound.”

5. In the den, Isabelle the young house servant was grabbed and made helpless by the female thief. To keep her quiet during the robbery, the woman tied Isabelle up like a sausage in her long nylon servant’s uniform and then tightly gagged her.

6. Caroline Garnier, the beautiful eighteen-year-old shopgirl at the bakery has been kidnapped by a thirty-year-old woman during the course of her work. The woman was so much stronger than Caroline and had no problem making her helpless and taking the young girl, who now ten hours later has been tightly trussed up like a sausage and thoroughly gagged. “Have some patience, my dear, I’m not going to untie you yet; I like you too much like that, tightly bound and gagged.”

7. Returning home, Yves Garnier had a terrible surprise finding his young and pretty wife Martine tightly tied from head to toe to a post in the living room and thoroughly gagged. It was earlier that the young woman, in her long nylon dress, as she was preparing to leave for work, was approached by a thirty-something woman who came to the front door. Once inside, being so much stronger than the young wife, she had no problem overpowering and silencing her young victim.

Catherine has also taken some terrific self-bondage pictures which show her love of “nylon blouses” and tight ropes and that look of distress. She’s also made some cute images on the Atari that have much the same style as her drawings. One interesting thing that she’s told me about is the style of garment in France called a “blouse,” which is different from what we would call a blouse here in the States. Apparently in France it’s more like a housecoat or over-garment that a housewife might wear to protect her dress. And although this kind of garment apparently is no longer in style, it’s still available and worn by some, mostly more mature, women at home. Catherine’s favorites are blouses in nylon, which almost always appear in her drawings. It’s always fascinating to see someone who has such a unique style to her approach to bondage and to making picture, and I really hope we’ll be seeing more from Catherine in the future.

Just as a quick follow-up to the “Hey, That’s Me” post two entries down below, here’s an example of a photo manipulation that I saw from someone on Facebook, where she used Photoshop to add her own face onto my body. This sort of thing I actually don’t mind, as it shows some actual effort and creativity. Although technically it’s not the greatest work, I’ve certainly seen much worse and I think we can all relate to seeing a hot bondage picture and imagining ourselves in the situation of the the poor girl who’s tied up. If anyone else has any more manipulations like this using Trannies In Trouble pics – with their face or body or mine – either done by themselves or things they’ve seen online, I’d love to see them and maybe post some of the best ones here. Here’s my email address.

I finally made it out to Tracks Nightclub (after a couple failed past attempts) for their First Fridy “BabesArounDenver” – basically a really big gay women’s night. I knew that several local cd’s / tg’s would be there so I headed out early to find some parking. The club is pretty nice and very large, with several different rooms; apparently it’s one of Denver’s biggest gay clubs. Once it really got hopping there were probably about 500 women there, most of them lesbians, some guys and some trannies.

I can’t say I had as much fun as I did at Milk Bar the other night but it was okay. I know I’ve talked about this many times here before, but I know some people absolutely love nightclubs and are out partying every weekend, whereas I, on the other hand, am a total buzzkill when it comes to clubs. I’d say I like the idea of them much more than the reality. I mean, what’s the real point? To get drunk or get laid. And I don’t drink much at all and rarely ever get laid (for various reasons). There are those brief transcendent moments of dancing that can be very nice, and I will admit that seeing young lesbians kissing is pretty easy to watch. The thing that makes me uneasy about clubs, though, is that with the mixture of booze and sexual tension, there’s so often a slight edge of aggression to the festivities, as though everyone is there to fuck or fight, and either one could happen at any moment. It could just be me and my past, as I had a tough time of it way back in school and may just be hyper-sensitive to aggression, although I have pointed out this observation to others and some say, “Oh, yeah, I totally know what you mean,” and others look at me like I’m crazy: “What? Agression in a club? I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

At one point though, I was dancing with a cd friend whom I’ve known for many years and whom I only get to see from time to time and a straight couple were nearby dancing. The guy moved over and danced with us for a while but it was in that overly-pushy getting-in-your-space kind of way and it just made me feel uneasy. It was like, is he going to feel me up or punch me in the face? It just felt a little off and so often in clubs it’s a series of moments that just feel a little off. After closing, when people are in the street and trying to get out of the parking lot of course the behavior ratchets up a few more notches. So all in all it was, yeah, okay. I’ll probably go back eventually but I’m not making any special plans. In any case, here’s a quick shot last night just as I was heading out the door…

Ugh, it’s a night of insomnia here in the bondage bungalow – how I hate when that happens! 2:18 AM and the mind goes round and round and round. Some morbid soul said that this is the hour when we’re all closest to death, but I’m quick and wide awake (or wait, maybe that was 3:00 AM). And hmm, I notice the blog time says I posted this at 1:18 AM but really it’s an hour later, though what’s the difference when sleep won’t come?

Anyway, I was mentioning social networking sites earlier, so if you’re bored and wasting time online here’s my profiles on Fetlife and Facebook (I just uploaded a couple of silly pictures there of my visit to Milk Bar a while back.) Send me a friend request if you’re so inclined. I’m also on MySpace but, like I say, I just find that site so dreadful that I only bother to log on about once a month, so there’s probably no point posting a link. So I’m just going to go click around for a while longer and then lay down again and stare upwards at the backs of my eyelids. They say trying to keep yourself in one position and not moving around helps. Maybe if I was restrained…

I was following the news out of New York but wasn’t really getting my hopes up too high, so I was thrilled to hear about the vote on the radio yesterday. It’s awesome to see this pass in a big state like New York where the gay rights movement began decades ago. I don’t really like to talk about politics very much, but gay marriage is one issue that makes me very excited. It really does seem like something that’s inevitable as it becomes legal in more and more states. It may take a long time but the issue ain’t going away. Yay to New York!

In the “spoiling the fun for the rest of us” department, a friend sent me the link to this news story about a guy who was allowed to fly wearing women’s panties and a ridiculously skimpy outfit (check out the link above for the picture – it’s priceless!) Hey, I like people who push the envelope and cause trouble, but even I’d be royally embarrassed if I were sitting next to this guy. It’d be one of those, “Uhm, excuse me but what are you doing?” moments. Perhaps a nice pinstriped suit would have been a better choice. At the very least, the fashion police could have been summoned. It’s ironic too – the article mentions the college football player who was arrested just days before for wearing overly-revealing baggy pants also in the San Francisco airport, though apparently he was reportedly exposing himself whereas the guy in the panties was nicely covered up. What more can one say?

(Update 6-27-2011: After reading Babette’s comment below I realized that my initial post wasn’t very clear. The person I was chatting with online was actually an admirer and not a crossdresser and the reason I wasn’t convinced about getting together was that although he expressed some interest in bondage, I had the sense from reading between the lines that he was really looking more for a sexual hookup, which I just didn’t feel comfortable with. I apologize for leaving out that important information, as it does sound like I was chatting with another CD who was just looking for bondage and not necessarily for sex…Sandra)

I recently was chatting with someone on a popular social networking site who wanted to meet, as he was coming to town for a business meeting. I wasn’t really convinced to begin with, but we wrote a few emails back and forth and then I found out that his wife at home didn’t know anything about his activities and would obviously not be too happy if she did. So I called it off. I’ve met with a couple guys over the years whom I later learned were doing the same thing behind their wives’ backs, and although I wasn’t the one actually cheating (and we didn’t have sex, so I guess you could say it wasn’t technically cheating), but still I felt kind of bad about the situations. I then saw on this recent guy’s profile that there were links to his wife’s profile and – ick – to his teenage kids’ profiles too. He’s lucky that I’m not the kind of person who would do this, but the first thing that went through my mind was, “Wow, this guy’s a case of blackmail waiting to happen!” How easy it would be to just forward our emails and cause all kinds of pain and destruction. I wouldn’t do that, but it does leave me, though, with that feeling of having information I wish I really didn’t have.

Again, let me emphasize that I would never rat on anyone, unless it became apparent that they were doing something really really bad, like meeting people and beating them up (in a bad way) or abusing children or something criminal like that. But I was still amazed at how he had his whole life laid out there to see. I mean, if you’re going to sneak around – and I’m not recommending that for anyone – at least use a separate profile for that purpose. I once actually heard from a guy’s wife (and I checked it out and was pretty certain that it really was her) who wrote for her husband who wanted to play. Although we didn’t really click that well I did actually meet with the guy and everything was fine. That kind of honesty I respect, and I have actually heard many more stories from guys, either CDs or dominant guys, who have an arrangement with their wives, who know what these guys like to do on the side and who give them their blessings, as long as they’re safe and upfront about it. So it is do-able if you’re married. The creeping around is just sad otherwise and slightly depressing – and stupid, as it could completely destroy one’s marriage if the truth came out, as it often does.

It’s been a busy party weekend here in Denver. Like I’ve mentioned before, I don’t usually go out to clubs all that often, because most of the time I just feel awkward and don’t really enjoy them that much. But lately I’ve gone a few times to the Santa Fe Tavern for their Friday night karaoke put on by Spaceman Mike! (who’s super-cool). It’s a straight bar / restaurant but usually a few trannies show up. I’ve sung a few times and I’ve noticed a funny thing: since I’m dressed, I want to try to sing in a falsetto or at least a higher-pitched male range, but because I’m always so nervous when I go up, my voice automatically slides down into its regular low range. No big deal, as most of the other CDs all do the same thing too. Sometimes if I can loosen up a bit I’ll be able to throw in a few falsetto lines but it’s not easy. Of course, I’m not a good singer, but hell, 90 percent of the people there aren’t either. The fun thing is performing for your friends and trying to have a good time, so I usually try to sing upbeat or funny songs, such as “Kung Fu Fighting,” which I did the other night. A slow serious ballad would be the kiss of death, unless you can really sing. It’s a cool place and actually the first bar in Denver I’ve found that I really like.

Then last night, after feeling kind of crappy all day long, I finally said, “What the hell!” threw on some make-up and went out to a place called Milk Bar where some other local t-girls were planning to be. It’s pride weekend here in Denver (it’s not all the same weekend in other cities, is it?) so I knew the place would probably be packed. It’s an interesting place, with a black and white theme, named after the bar from “A Clockwork Orange,” and with another goth club connected to it next door. They’re both rather nice, and I felt pretty relaxed there. I usually just wander around when I’m at those places, check out the hotties, drink one glass of wine (hardcore!), chat with people I know (and thankfully there were quite a few last night) and dance a little with friends. I really like to dance, though again, I’m not good at it, but when you can really lose yourself in the beat for a moment it can be a wonderful time. Not to get all existential, but sometimes it does seem that living in this physical world and encased in this physical body that we carry around, it really can feel like a terrible burden – with the sense we all have of being separate from one another, the inevitable aging process, and the numerous flaws of the human body and damage that it’s prone to – sometimes it can just suck to exist, though the alternative is probably worse. Dancing, and obviously things like drugs and drink, can bring some momentary relief from all that heaviness, though dancing’s a lot friendlier on the bod.

So yeah, with all that, it’s a nice club – now the second one that I actually like enough in Denver to go back to. Of the two bars, I probably liked the goth one a little bit better, though the music was so shockingly loud that I had to wear ear plugs. It wasn’t that you might damage your hearing in the place but that you will damage it if you stay there unprotected. A girl leaned over at one point and tried to tell me that she liked the blouse I was wearing but it was like trying to decipher a foreign tongue – “Huh? What? You like my boobs?” But the music was pretty cool and the dancing in goth clubs is fun, if utterly pretentious. You really don’t have to do much in those places to call it dancing – just slowly move your arms around and strike dramatic poses. The other side, “Milk Bar” had much more pop and disco flavored music and was really crowded, as it’s a bit smaller. So anyway, I don’t think I’ll be there every weekend but I’ll certainly go back from time to time. Worth checking out.