The Hand Orgy

Tied and Peaceful

January 23 kicked off the Chinese New Year of the Dragon. I ran across this handy explanation:

"Exciting, unpredictable, exhilarating and intense, according to the Chinese tradition, these are the characteristics of the Year of the Dragon. Be warned, following the Rabbit's year of cautious optimism, the Dragon is renowned for its unbridled enthusiasm and has been known to throw caution to the wind! Now's the time to make this your Year of Adventure!"

Well, thank you - I think I will!

Warning: the next picture is even more Not-Safe-For-Work (NSFW) than the first picture. I'm giving you space to look away, although I sincerely hope you don't, because it's good for me when you have sexy images of me stuck in your head.

I realized at our New Year's Eve party that I had to make a choice because of my vertigo: either I could process or deliver pain (flogger, spanking, paddle, crop, etc - they take as much concentration to wield as to receive), or I could stay at the party and be social, but I couldn't do both. Being in crowds makes me very dizzy, taking someone else into pain subspace and back makes me very dizzy, and going into pain subspace and back makes me very dizzy, so I have to choose only one of those things in any given 3-day period.

I'm not gonna lie: that sucks. It's emotionally difficult to be at a party where there are luscious floggers, and people with years of experience throwing them who are perfectly willing to fly me, and other people happy to watch that happen. It is seriously hard to turn that down. It's worth it to be at the party as an observer, building friendships by having happy kinky flirty time, but it's a helluva reminder of my limitations.

So somewhere in this insane blur of a month, we went to a BDSM party where people were playing with painful sensations and impact (several at the hand of my husband, who is as surprised and delighted and turned on as I am that he seems to be kinda in-demand at these types of parties). And although I love watching, I got antsy to participate without triggering my vertigo.

Thankfully for me, a gentleman was there with hundreds of feet of rope and many hours of bondage experience, and he was willing to tie me up with no expectation for hurting me or being sexy after being tied. My husband helped me think of all my caveats: no ties across my neck in case I couldn't differentiate blood loss to my head from dizziness, no standing with my feet bound together because my balance isn't good enough to maintain that, and, as with any bondage, the person tying me had to stay close by as long as I was bound in case I needed a quick release.

I stood first for a rope corset with my hands behind my back, but my legs free, enjoying the pulls and tugs, and relaxing into the feeling of my arms stretched a little behind me. I enjoyed leaning against him as he drew the rope across my flesh time and time again. Then we found a sitting position I could maintain comfortably, and he did an asymmetrical bind to keep me in that position.

And the most beautiful thing happened slowly: I relaxed into a sexy blur, a kind of a sub space, I think, of enjoying the exhibitionism (I was only wearing panties), and enjoying the feeling of increasing restriction (I've always loved bondage, but never done it as an end unto itself without combining it with other sensation play). When he was done and I was testing my bonds and figuring out if I could move (I kinda could scoot on my knees, but it was quite un-graceful), it was fun and floaty and sexy and relaxing without being stressful.

Is it weird that I relax when I'm tied up? Isn't that the point, to let yourself feel a little helpless? Well, it can be the point, I guess. That night, it was the point for me.

Then my husband finished up with the spankings he was delivering to Devant upstairs and they both came down, along with the crowd who had been watching (and "helping" her count, although I hear there was mischief involved around the number 13...).

When he knelt behind me and whispered in my ear how beautiful I looked, suddenly an old desire came back to me, something we've talked about for years, but never had the right space to make it happen: for as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be naked and bound in the middle of a group of people and have them run their hands over me, lovingly, gently, playfully, without causing any pain, just caressing.

All of a sudden, it dawned on both my husband and I at the same time that this was the perfect time to fulfill that fantasy.

And so it was.

Happily, sensually overwhelmed

My husband briefly explained to the people in the room what I wanted and asked for help, and I felt a gentle surge of warm bodies nestling in around me: my husband, Devant, another woman who has played with my husband, the woman who gave us our welcome and invitations to our first play party, the man who had just bound me, and his lover.

Intellectually, I understand that they probably watched my husband and followed his lead, but at the moment, it felt like the world stood still, and everyone magically understood exactly what I needed.

I was overwhelmed. I felt relief to have found something so sexy and so sensual that didn't immediately spin me into extreme dizziness. I felt gratitude for the friends we have made in such a short time with our new community of kinksters. I felt the release of literally years of holding onto this fantasy and having it fulfilled while feeling so safe and beautiful and treasured.

For one magical moment, it felt like I had been transported to a place where the hands of everyone who has ever loved me were caressing me, all at once. The room expanded into the past and the future, the hands multiplied, and I knew all the love of my whole life all at once.

I think I squeaked out something like, "I'm gonna cry if that's okay" and then proceeded to do exactly that while the hands continued, and voices murmured encouragement from every direction.

The quick-thinking person who captured the moment on my phone camera has been profusely thanked.

What has since come to be known as "The Hand Orgy" probably only lasted five minutes, just long enough for the wave of emotion to break over me and subside. Once I returned to only one point on the space-time continuum, I opened my eyes, found my words again, and I was ready to be unbound and rejoin the party.

The after effects, interestingly enough, were the same as returning from subspace after impact play: first I wanted to be still and with cuddly arms wrapped around me, then I needed to drink and snack, and then I was very happy and feeling social.

People who had seen the hand orgy, but had not participated (they came in the room after it had started and were uncertain if they were welcome to join), were very sweet, telling me how beautiful it was. And the hosts thanked me for gracing their home with such a lovely moment. Awwww /sniffle

So if sometime in the past couple of weeks, you happened to dream of running your hands over my body while I leaned into you and whispered, "thank you" through happy tears, now you know why.

Thank you for being there with me in spirit.

Galiana and Devant

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Listings Rework

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Heart of a Girlfriend, Imagination of a Whore

I have a new tagline: Galiana Chance, Phone Sex Operator with the Heart of a Girlfriend, Imagination of a Whore.

I made new banners, too! I love that the pictures were taken very recently (less than a month ago), so I don't feel guilty about having my first pictures be over a year old old. Good. Grief. Time flies.

I took the picture on the left before the kinky Christmas party where my husband and I first met Devant (iPhone self-portrait for the win), and the one of the right was my photo shoot with Sir Wallter.

I just realized (after testing the phrase on a dozen people, making the banners, and posting the banner on my blog) that I used to have problems with both the word "girlfriend" and "whore", and yet now, here I am, using them to summarize myself. I'm nothing if not ever-changing. That's good, right? In a "the unexamined life is not worth living" kind of a way? Or does it just mean that I have loose mental morals as well as sexual ones? It's hard to tell.

Anyway, for a while, I didn't like the phrase "girlfriend experience" (also known in the business as GFE), because I had unpleasant associations with the word "girlfriend" (I went to a liberal arts university in the early 90s - I can totally redefine words!), but my objections seem to have melted away since I've picked up a new in-person lover who likes to call me his girlfriend. Awwww. Now the word makes me all happy. Plus, even before that, several callers had let me know they feel like I'm girlfriend-ey with them, which was enough to melt my resistance.

I also used to shy away from the word "whore", probably mostly out of my pride as claiming myself as a slut. I don't have to get paid to fuck, dammit! I'm a slut! Oh, wait, but now I do get paid to (phone) fuck, so now I'm a... ? Ummmm. Yep, yep, yep, I'm a whore.

So here I am, announcing myself as a girlfriend/whore. Archetype much, Galiana? It's not quite Madonna/whore, but it's in the same vein. Maybe when I choose my next tagline, I'll have to go to back to pagan mythos and pitch myself as a maiden-matron-crone...

One day, I'll at least attempt to think of my readers instead of just amusing myself. Maybe. Don't hold your breath for that, though.

Back on target: the tagline. I like it because I think it's true: I care. I give a shit. I have a big fuzzy heart. What the person on the other end of the phone feels matters to me. And inside that caring is a whole big wide world of deliciously erotic ideas waiting to bubble out at the slightest provocation (and sometimes even with no provocation, to customer service representatives over the phone, but that's another story altogether...).

I'd love to know what you think!

Meds and Trains and My Missing Superpower

When I was a manager, I encouraged people to find their "superpower". As an example, I said mine was "English translator of English" -- I have an unusual ability to help technical people understand the business side of things, and vice versa.

Apparently, my Missing Superpower is: Keeping People Informed Of My Calendar. I told about five people I was traveling. Everyone else was confused and ignored. I'm really sorry. In my defense, I was using all my energy trying not to be terrified of traveling. It sort of worked (not really).

I just got back from Chicago. I went there for a long-overdue checkup with my dizzy doctor to discuss my horse tranquilizers. He told me about a new habituation treatment that involves a rotating chair and synchronized visual input, so even those with the most severe motion sickness can tolerate treatments in the chair, and apparently after five sessions of just an hour each, 100% of the people in the study had full recovery to allow them to travel without illness!

So while I wait for him to build a hurl-a-whirl chair (as my sister called it... heh), I'll stay on my ridiculously low doses of barbiturates and continue to make incremental improvement, and then wipe out my improvements by over-extending myself socially, or by traveling, which wipes me out, but I love seeing people and changing scenery, so I'll keep doing it!

Speaking of traveling, the car ride up to Chicago was as difficult as expected, but the pleasant surprise was how well I tolerated the elevated train to get to and from downtown -- better than a car! I felt like I could predict the motion of the train (both acceleration and deceleration, but also side-to-side) more accurately than expected.

Then the big success was getting home via train, which was over 2.5 hours of constant motion. Oh, sure, I looked like a zombie shuffling off the train, my voice was flat, my speech was slurred, I was confused, and my muscles were weak, but I still felt like I could direct my body in case of an emergency. That opens up a new realm of possibilities for me, because I can theoretically get all the way to Houston on my own if I gave myself enough recouping time between the train to Chicago, the elevated train to O'Hare, and the plane to Houston. Exciting!

Summary: Sorry I forgot to tell you I'd be traveling. My doctor's visit was fine. If you have brain-drunk-vertigo, Trains > Cars > Planes (FYI: as far as I know, I am the only person in the world who has brain-drunk vertigo, so this information has extremely limited usefulness).

Welcome Lady Devant

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Three-Day Party

With only two days to prep, we decided to have a New Year's Eve party for all our new kinkster community friends who were "holiday orphans" this year (my mom's term for friends we invited to our holidays when I was growing up - it's a fabulous tradition that I'm glad to carry on).

The party didn't really end until Monday evening around 9pm when my lover went back home to sleep in his own bed after 2 nights with me, and I crawled, exhausted and deliriously happy, into the guest room so my husband could keep fucking his new girlfriend.

Wh-wh-wh-WHAT?

To back up a bit: at noon on Saturday, my husband had never met my local lover, and although my husband had been texting the college student he had smacked with a crop before Christmas, neither of them really knew if they would hit it off in person after she came back in town.

Also, we hadn't really finished unpacking. So party prep, in addition to normal cleaning, included tucking away all our boxes of miscellany safely out of sight, and coming up with House Rules for play times in case someone wanted to beat or fuck someone else. You know, the usual.

The morning of the party, hub invited my lover to the party. I knew he was ready to meet him, but still, it was a big invite, a big step forward in my dream of blissful-hippie-free-love-dom for us. Things got more interesting when his now-new-girlfriend came over a few hours early in a smokingly sexy short dress with her lovely cleavage delightfully on display, and the reddest lipstick I have ever seen. Yeah, they hit if off in person just fine.

A word about the pics: we didn't photograph any guests at the party to protect their privacy, and I forgot to take a pic of me, but I was in the same cleavage-tastic top as the kinky holiday party from before Christmas.

The party was simple and intimate: about 10 guests in all. The before-midnight shenanigans were relatively tame, but super fun. We created a light-hearted party game which worked out remarkably well as an ice breaker. Here's how to play:

1. Set up: Everybody gets paper (one color for kinky, one color for non-kinky) and writes down offers of activities which can be delivered in less than 90 seconds, like "Galiana will spank you bare-handed" on the kinky paper, or "Galiana will rub your feet" on the non-kinky paper
2. Set up: Everybody gets a unique token (we used six-sided dice of different colors because my husband has a lot of them)
3. Set up: Have two bowls: one for kinky and one for non-kinky (ideally, they'd match the paper if you're that coordinated)
4. Have someone blindly pick out one kinky offer and one non-kinky offer (ex: "You get to crop Jack" and "Jill will give you a quickie palm reading").
5. Everyone choose which bowl to put their token into - or whether they want to sit out this round.
6. Have someone blindly pick out one token from the kinky bowl and one token from the non-kinky bowl.
7. The two people who offered and the two people who won have a few minutes to make good on their offers while everyone watches.
8. Repeat steps 4-7 as often as you wish.

Ladybug Apron

We only played about 10 rounds, but I got to spank someone, watch someone get bitten hard on their shoulder, watch a plate of food be served in a deeply caringly submissive way, hear a quickie tarot reading, and, best of all, watch an absolutely adorable redhead in her mid-20s put on the apron pictured here and then peel off her dress and underwear underneath it (she spent the rest of the evening in JUST the apron... how fucking adorable is that?!?)

I had gotten this apron for my sister as a birthday present, but hadn't mailed it to her yet. The guest in question said, jokingly, I think, that she would be willing to wear only an apron if she had a pretty apron, at which point I jumped up and yelled, "I HAVE A PRETTY APRON! YOU CAN'T TAKE IT BACK! YOU SAID YOU'D GET NAKED UNDER IT!" (I might have a bit of a crush on her. She's a redhead, and a geek, and she sometimes breaks into a super-dorky-awesome version of The Running Man when she dances, and she's so damn cute it's painful. Seriously. Huge crush.)

So at midnight, everyone kissed everyone (cheek kisses were an acceptable option), and I might have made out with the redhead in the ladybug apron for just a few minutes longer than was really socially acceptable...

After midnight, it got really interesting. Hub's now-girlfriend wanted to jump his bones, but she was nice enough to point out that one of the other guests was sad she didn't get a longer midnight kiss from my husband, so he was kind enough to remedy that. Then he offered if anyone else wanted a longer midnight kiss... and the redhead took him up on it.

And then hub and the redhead closed the door to his office, and sounds of leather on flesh started popping out. Twenty minutes later, he called me in to assist with aftercare because she was so deeply affected by the experience, so I got to hold her, naked, while she pulled herself back together, while I told her how fucking awesome she was. See if you can guess what this did to my crush on her? Damn.

After we finished in the office, hub and his now-new-girlfriend disappeared up to the foldout couch in the Fuckatorium where the condoms and lube and sex toys were set out, the redhead took the blow-up mattress in the office, the woman who had wanted the longer kiss got our bed, and my lover and I were in the guest bedroom.

In case you were wondering, overhearing an adorable college student in the throes of passion, knowing it was my husband making her thrash? It worked for me. I was ludicrously happy.

New Year's morning, as the six of us rolled out of bed at varying times, we managed black-eyed peas in the crock pot, cocktail sausages to snack on while omelets were mangled into scrambled eggs, and an utterly mismatched set of stemware to wash from our champagne toast at midnight.

The kisser and the redhead left at some point when I was curled into a ball upstairs (my vertigo medicine finally wore off, and the rebound hit me). The rest of Sunday and Monday (hub and lover were both off work) were spent enjoying casual meals, comedy specials, and snuggling with the dogs (who were delighted to have two more people to beg for pets and fetches).

Then, as the credits rolled on the last comedy special on Monday, my to-do list rolled in on top of it, and I felt the haze of the holiday dissipate. I have a robot video to edit, pictures from the pinup photo shoot to list for sale, hosting setup for podcasts (I'm toying with the idea of starting one), and I have to blog about this crazy weekend!

So my lover left, but hub's now-girlfriend is still here. Her roommates don't return for a few days yet, we like having her here, and, ummm, she's thinking of joining my ranks as a phone sex operator, so I'm probably going to be spending time setting her up over the next few days.

I'm totally not kidding. There is an adorable college student living with me who is fucking my husband, and I'm going to show her how to be a phone whore. I'll let you know when she's online. You're gonna die - she's too damn cute. Then you're gonna wanna punch my husband for being such a lucky sonofabitch.

I used to have a life I could share on Facebook...