Procrastination

“Men are accomplices to that which leaves them indifferent.” – George Steiner

I have a test in the morning that I’m starting to believe I’m going to likely fail.  I lack the motivation to study for it, and even though I keep forcing myself to sit on the couch away from distractions something always happens to throw my attention off.

I must have the most perfectly filed nails on the planet now.

Also the cleanest floors.

The freshest smelling apartment (due to replacing the air freshners).

The smoothest hair.

The most hydrated body (inside and out).

…..

At times like these I really wish I had a Dominant to (literally) smack some sense into me.

The Struggle

“When you have to make a choice and don’t make it, that in itself is a choice. ” — William James

I haven’t blogged in what feels like ages, and the only excuse I really have for my absence is frankly that I have been really busy. It’s not for lack of want, or lack of content really but just lack of actual time. One of the strange things is that a good chunk of my time has been spent around more kinky people than vanilla people with the exception of this past weekend, and it might possibly be the period that has yielded the most surprising results as of late.

As I posted a few months ago there was a choice encounter between myself and someone that I work with.  The end result of that experience was that sex was had, followed by a certain degree of awkwardness that never really translated into our professional lives.  And here’s the funny thing, while I claim to loosely use the term ‘friend’ prior to the transgression, we actually -have- been friends since it happened.  We talk more often over messenger, and about once a month we’ll get together to hang out.  After the first encounter we subconsciously seemed to be avoiding the consumption of alcohol.   And I think we were both equally surprised at how much fun we could have without alcohol and with all of our clothes.

This past weekend my Saturday night plans blew up in my face, and at the last minute I ended up visiting a friend of mine with dinner.  She is one of few people who (a) knows both him and I, and (b) knows of what happened between us.  She’s been telling me for years that we like eachother and has been rooting for it since the start, so how could I not tell her when it happened?  Regardless, she’s been in the loop and knows that we’ve resorted to a state of just being friends.  But Saturday, for some reason she asked how things were going between us.  I finished chewing my mouthful of fried rice and re-iterated that we are ‘just friends’.  She asked if we’ve seen each other lately and I said no, but if he was around later tonight I  might pester him.  She smiled and made a remark that I’d rather not repeat, but the jist of it being that she still believes him and I are going to end up together in the end.  Dreamer.

When I got home that night he messaged me immediately, and we dinked around on messenger for a bit before we finally decided he was going to come over for some drinking and gaming.  And we drunk .. a lot.  And had a lot of fun gaming.  But then there was also a lot of talking, which revealed a few things that surprised me.  The one that did the most is apparently he talks about me to his friends.  Another is that, to him, a girl like me is the perfect type of girl for him to date.  And third was that he’s on the same page as me about one thing:  either we are extremely compatible for each other, or we’re essentially the same person in both male and female forms.

When I drink I don’t become the type of person that does stupid things, and for the most part (with a few exceptions) I don’t regret anything that I’ve done while intoxicated.  The thing with alcohol is that it gives me that little edge, it takes away my inhibitions and my fear of feeling vulnerable so that I’m more likely to say what is on my  mind instead of keeping everything bottled up inside.  So on Saturday night, I laid it down on the table and suggested maybe we should be friends with no limits.  And surprisingly, he agreed.  With a few limits, of course, but umm yeah.   It went there.

So background done, now onto the actual blog-topic — the struggle.  And here’s the funny thing about the entire situation, being that we are essentially very alike.   We were joking around and he admitted that he has a set of cuffs, and I retaliated that I have a set of leather ones.  Then he wanted to see them, and I showed them.  But here’s the thing, being that I’ve always been under the impression that he is vanilla, when in fact it doesn’t seem that he is.  And even more so, he’s rather more of a submissive than a Dominant …

…. yeah.

So you can kind of imagine how this all played out.  And it literally was a situation of ‘you take control’ “no you take control” ‘no you’ “no you”, back and forth until we both fell asleep.  A few hours later I woke up and found myself curled up against him (how? when?) and we both woke up and some stuff happened, but no sex.   Not exactly sure why, but I’m suspecting it boils down to each one of us waiting for the other to initiate the act.

I’ve played around with submissives before, but generally I was able to lure them into topping me vs. me topping them.  So this whole situation has kind of dumbfounded me and got me wondering:  in the broad spectrum of the kink world, how exactly do people have a relationship if they are both Dominants or submissives?  I understand the concept of two people being switches and that working out alright (provided you are very in tune with one another you could switch back and forth as necessary).  But there are couples out there that are both of the same role, and it just makes me curious as to how they balance it all out.  In many cases they are poly, thus they are with eachother but play with others to satisfy their power exchange needs.   But the people who are mongamous and with each other .. how does it work?

My mind is currently boggled.  That night we had pretty much come to the agreement that he would take control that night and I would the rest of the week.  However he never actually did (since we fell asleep) so I’m not exactly sure if he would have.  It’s an odd situation, and I’m not exactly sure how it’s going to pan out.  It’s like an inverse of a power struggle, being that we were trying to push the control over onto the other person instead of fighting to be the one calling the shots.  I thought I would never, ever, in my life meet someone who was so indifferent and comfortable with giving control over as I can be.  It just flabbergasts me.

So yeah, I’m not really sure what I’m going to do now.  In one way I was wondering today if it was one of those situations when you get really drunk and you just tend to think everything the other person says is pure genius, and thus we fell into this mess accidentally.  In which case it would be awkward, we’d likely avoid each other for a bit (I was going to leave him be until at least the weekend …) since we don’t actually want to talk about it …. but ironically half way through this post he messaged me to say he took the rest of tonight off.  While it appears I’m still going to bed solo, at least I know he’s not avoiding me out of awkwardness .. yet.

The Humiliation Game

“Your worst humiliation is only someone else’s momentary entertainment” — Karen Crockett

Last Saturday I went to a party at a house of a couple I know. They are kink-friendly, and there was the usual group of people from the young kink scene. Which was cool, because a lot of them are really nice and great people.

What I didn’t know before arriving at the party was that there was a pre-arranged scene to be executed. It didn’t involve me but it did involve a few people, namely one girl giving head to another girl who was wearing a strap-on. And here’s the thing, I’m not really an exhibitionist, nor am I really a voyeur. So while it was going on at times I was entertained, but I wasn’t any more entertained than if I was watching someone failing at Rockband. Yes, whenever she choked on the cock I burst into giggles, but I think that was more of just being on the other side of the situation. My ex used to love the sounds I made when I would choke while giving head, so I guess in a way I finally had an appreciation for it. When it was done about an hour passed and then everyone went their separate ways.

I was giving a friend of mine a ride home, and on the way I mentioned to her that I envied the girl for her ability to do something like that. ‘Something like what?’, she asked. ‘Well being able to do those things in front of other people. Sucking off a dildo while getting herself off against the girl’s foot. I could never, ever, do something like that in front of a crowd. Ever.’. She pointed out that everyone is different, and in that so are their tolerances. And I get what she means, it’s like comparing apples to oranges. I have never been a humiliation driven person, so the idea of having to do what she did, yet alone in a room full of 20-30 people all watching and two people videotaping .. well it puts me into a fear frenzy that almost gives me the shakes.

I wish in ways I could do things like that, that I could toss caution to the wind and just let it all go. Indulge in whims, perform in front of a crowd. But it just doesn’t seem to be the way I’m wired. I’m too private, and too nervous to let the true nature of my depravity be seen by everyone. And I also wish that I could enjoy things like that. Instead I found myself uncomfortable at times, sitting there watching what was happening. Yes I know she was enjoying it, and yes I know she would have stopped it at any point if she didn’t. So while it was her task to perform these things, it almost felt like it was my task to sit and endure it. One of my friends approached me afterwards and said to me ‘you look so uncomfortable’. I shrugged and said it wasn’t discomfort, I’m just not a voyeur so I wasn’t glowing from the performance like everyone else.

I felt a little off-kilter after dropping my friend off. I was in a good mood, partially due to having fun and being social, another part due to physical contact through hugging, and another due to a shot of 1800 and a beer. I was singing and bouncing along on the ride home, but at the same time I felt weird. In a way I didn’t want to go home, but at the same time I was exhausted after having been up since 6am. I got in around 2am and received a message from a friend of mine who was bored. I invited him over, and he left after the sun was already coming up. Where part of our usual dynamic consists of him picking on me, he actually didn’t behave that way that night. He joked around, but it was playful and flirtatious without any jabs designed to make me blush or embarass me. It was a different dynamic and it was kind of fun. And no, sex was not had as we are friends. But his behaviour only further affirmed for me that I am the type of person that is more receptive to stimuli when it is not designed to make me cringe or turn red. When it is not designed to make me feel humiliated or wish to crawl under the couch and die of embarassment. It’s the type of environment I strive in.

In an odd twist of faith I ended up going to dinner with some friends tonight. It was a smaller group, again kink friendly. We were talking and joking around when at one point the conversation somehow turned to me. Someone commented that I am a camwhore, which I was quick to deny. I pointed out there are no incriminating photos of me on the internet that show nudity, nor do I even really take pictures anymore. One friend pointed out that I did it more in the past and I agreed, in the past. Then the surprise came …

.. an old group from an IRC channel that I frequented used to go on yahoo webcams quite often. We’d all be on there with eachother, sometimes clean sometimes .. well, less clean. So imagine my surprise when I state that no one in the current channel has seen my boobs, and my friend to the right states that he has before he takes a drink. I blink and turn my head, asking how he managed and he grins, telling me to think about it. I mull it over for a second, and he prods with activities of the old channel, and bam! It hits me. I ask if he means webcam, and his face breaks into a huge grin. I can literally feel my face flushing, my skin starts burning and I start fanning myself to slow the heat. Everyone is laughing, and one girl comments that I am flushed all the way down to my cleavage. I look down and sure enough it is. As I sit there fanning myself I try and figure out exactly how I could forget how that happened, and I state that. My friend laughs, and says that’s nothing compared the conversations that were had and what I said … oh dear.

The entire experience was not a pleasant one, but at the same time it didn’t exactly make me freak out like I imagined such a humiliation would. It’s not something I want to experience anytime soon though. And yeah, so it wasn’t me sucking a cock and grinding against a boot, but in my little world it was pretty far. Maybe I’m growing, slowly. Not holding my breathe though.

Take My Breath Away

“A human being is only breath and shadow.” – Sophocles

If it’s good enough for David Carradine, why should it not be acceptable for the rest of us? This is obviously my manditory post on the subject of auto-erotic-asphyxiation. It’s been going through my head for the past few weeks, mainly weighing the pros and cons of the act.

While I am a fan of strangling, at the same time I understand it is a very tricky situation. Every time I engage in the practice it thrills me and simultaneously scares the crap out of me at once. When that hand releases your neck and air flows back in, never does it feel as sweet at any other time. But in the brief moments before then, before you gasp and draw it all in, the feeling that you experience is complete euphoria. Your brain gets hazy, your limbs feel tingly, and if being stimulated at the same time then never does it feel more intense. And when you do breathe it all in, your body releases in this way, soaking it all up pushing you over that edge into a feeling that is like being in a warm tub of water. You’re relaxed, you’re happy, you’re tripping.

So it’s easy to see how people become junkies for it. But what happens when you find yourself without a partner in which to engage in these things? While there are certain risks associated with the act when you have a partner, at least you can entrust them to be there and be conscious of what is going on, carrying your best interests in mind and keeping an eye on your reactions. And should things go wrong then you at least have someone there to react to the situation as necessary. It gives you a small comfort. Small, but there nonetheless.

But engaging in the behaviour on your own? There is no safety net, and you’re relying solely on your judgment that you can and will stop when it gets too intense. But what if you don’t? I mean it feels good, euphoric, and you’re loving every second of it. Though a small part of you knows you need to stop, some people can’t. And then boom, death. And with celebrities this means lots of talk in the media about this whole niche.

Does AEA fall into the category of SSC? I’m not entirely sure. While I’d like to think that people only engage in safe practices, I just can’t see how this would qualify as one of those. Unless you let someone know to come and check on you, but even then it would probably be too late. It’s not an issue of the rigging being safe, but just being able stop before it goes too far. I just don’t believe people can make responsible decisions when they are in this mindset.

Suffocation, yes. Strangling, absolutely. But AEA? I just don’t think it’s kosher. Again I always respect a person’s right to their kinks and to do what they want to do, I just don’t think this is something that should be encouraged in the community. I know it’s never going to die out, but precautions should be taken.

So while I do miss the feeling, the sensations that come with these things it’s not something I’m going to engage in while solo. And nor is it something I can see myself jumping into with anyone either since it requires a great deal of trust. Some wants become needs, but some needs just need to be suppressed until the time is right. Hopefully the time is right soon, because I really do miss it.

Comfort

“To be scared is sensible, to be comfortable is suicidal.” — Unknown

I never imagined that seeing him again would bring me back to a place in which I had once found myself years ago. Over time we lost touch, over time we both moved on, over time we forgot about each other. Which is to be expected, over time.

Tonight when I saw him he gave me a hug. And not a hug in the traditional sense of the three-second rule where one party indicates the end of the embrace with a pat on the back, and then both withdraw. This hug was different. It was longer, and more intense. He wrapped his arms around me and drew me in tight to his body. My arms worked their way around him and gave him a fair intensity squeeze. His squeeze became stronger, his fingers digging into my skin. I relaxed my grip, trying to indicate that the hug had proceeded past its expected timeline, but his hold became stronger. His fingertips would relax, then squeeze back into my sides, as if trying to pull me tighter. At this point I stood there, arms loosely draped around him, unsure of what to do since the hug has well progressed past acceptable time limits. I laughed nervously and indicated that wow, this was a long hug. He relaxed a bit and pulled back, arms still around my waist and asked if it felt awkward. I replied saying no, it wasn’t bad, just a very long hug compared to most. He smiled and pulled me back tight against him and resumed the pace until the moment that he felt it was an acceptable time to release.

Later he happens by while I was discussing hugging with some other people. I bring him into the conversation, asking his opinion on the subject. He approaches the table where I am sitting and stands to my right side, puts his hand on my right shoulder, giving a light squeeze and then softly rubbing my skin. As he talks his hand works its way over to my left shoulder, fingers dancing along my back until they settle where he wants them. My heart stops for a minute and I forget to breathe, the words he is saying not registering to me. The others nod and are also talking, but I can’t focus as his fingers move back and forth across, his body inching closer to mine until his thigh was pressed against my back. He puts down his drink and moves in behind me fully, placing a hand on each shoulder and massaging it. I try to focus on the conversation, having moments where I can keep my head straight as his hands work their way over my shoulders, at the base of my neck. My head rolls forward and his hands move up my neck and into my hair. His fingers knead into my scalp, run through my hair, and move back up my neck, working around to my face. His hands cup my ears and he draws my head back so that my back and head are resting against his body. He tucks my hair behind my ears and pets it before running his hands back down to my shoulders, over my collarbones, across my chest, and down over my waist. His fingers are firm, but not aggressive. The whole process puts me in a state of mind-numbness, and also arouses me. I think he could have thrown me over the table and I would have let him fuck me, even with all those people watching. I’m ashamed of how much that affected me.

When preparing to leave we share another hug. It is again long, longer than the earlier one. I’m up on my tiptoes as he keeps drawing me in tighter and tighter. The embrace itself is comforting, and I realize that when hugging him I feel very safe and I like that. When everything is stationary but snug things are fine, but whenever he moves his fingers, or changes the strength of his hold I feel myself weaken a little. At one point his cheek is pressed against mine and he tilts his head so that his face is nestled against my neck. I hear him inhale deeply and then sigh, the embrace getting stronger. I feel myself weaken, the submissive gene silently being turned on and taking pleasure in him enjoying this experience. I hug him tighter after that, and eventually one of us lets go, but I can’t remember which.

After talking with a few more people and exchanging a few more hugs (of acceptable length and strength) I see I have to walk past where he sits. I have the overwhelming urge to get another hug, and without even hesitating go over and ask for one. He pulls me in again as I lean over into it. My face is against his shoulder, and this time it’s me who inhales and sighs. I whisper to him that it feels nice. He chuckles and whispers back that it’s because it’s familiar with us, though most around us wouldn’t know it. I quietly admit that I don’t want to stop the hug, and he pulls me in tighter, his fingers working down my back. I eventually break the embrace to leave.

Walking to the car I felt a mixture of emotions. I felt like a void was there, like there was something I was missing. I craved more time in his arms, but not in a romantic sense. Just to feel the strength, the safety. In this regard I felt like a junkie, because my brain started going through my catalogue trying to find someone who could illicit the same kind of response. No one really has the same impact that he has on me. We spent lots of time together, but only fucked once. But that day we spent a lot of time touching, and each time his fingers brushed against my skin it excited me. That response still exists today, apparently. There is a close second, where in his arms I actually felt very safe and comfortable. I would feel bad and awkward trying to get my fix that way, almost deceptive. And that’s just not something I’d be comfortable with. Period.

Small Acts of Predictability

“Ignorance is never out of style. It was in fashion yesterday, it is the rage today and it will set the pace tomorrow. ” – Frank Dane

God I hate how predictable men can be.

When things ended between him and I, I pretty much knew he was going to find someone else reasonably quick. Which is fine, whatever, but I made one request that it not be this girl that we know from an IRC channel. He told me that wouldn’t happen because he finds her to be a complete cunt, that he didn’t like her on any level so no, it wouldn’t occur.

Now they flirt. In channel. Often.

I’m not really mad, just kind of … ew. And I find the whole thing rather pathetic and childish. But at the same time I guess I should have seen this one coming. I just hate stupid predictability.

On a similar vein, my attempts to re-enter the world of ‘dates’ has been pretty failtastic. I had one scheduled for last week but he cancelled, then I cancelled. Then he tried to reschedule but we couldn’t figure a time out so .. yeah. I have loosely made plans with a guy this weekend that everyone is calling ‘a date’. I don’t really understand why though, because he’s a guy and I’m a girl? So childish. On the one hand I’m ready to concede it might be a date, but on the other hand I really would rather not. The fact that no concrete plans have been made says, to me, that it is not a date at all. I predict this get together will not occur either.

And on another similar vein, I might be actually breaking out of my shell to go to a fet night in a few weeks. It’s one of the few nights I can go, and I’m actually free. Fancy that. I welcome the excuse to break out my corset and heels.

Unknowingly

“Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood.” – Henry Miller

Quote pretty much explains my current state. I wish I could put it into words better but .. confused. Plain and simple.

Putting Yourself Out There

“The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.” – Karl Marx

2009 seems to me to be a year of learning, of important lessons, and of spontaneity. I have done things I honestly would never have imagined I’d ever do, and for this I hold no regrets.

This weekend I did something that I am still rather on the fence about. I have had the longstanding rule that I don’t date or have sex with anyone I work with. My workplace, like most, is a huge gossip pit where everyone knows each other’s business. In fact, I’ve done an amazing job of staying out of the loop, being that things ended with my ex some people still didn’t know .. nine months later. I’m a very private person, always have been, always will be.

So here’s the thing: I did it. I went out with the intention of one drink and sneaking out of the party early. However that became four or five drinks, staying the whole night, and in the end bringing a friend home for tequila. I would dare to say that I use the term ‘friend’ even loosely since we don’t hang outside of work. We have tons of things in common, and yet it just never seemed to pan out. I think because there was a certain level of .. whatever you choose to call it. Attraction, flirtation, sexual tension, choose your poison. Point being is that while we share a pile of interests we never do anything together.

Saturday we shared in our liking of tequila, movies, and video games. Granted we never made it to the video games because the room was spinning way too much. I made up the bed and he laid down, asking me to lay down and keep him company. It started out just talking, then there was our fingertips stroking one another. More talking, and eventually it evolved into cuddling and spooning. It felt nice to just be there, sharing a moment. I’d have been happy with just that and nothing else. I think part of the reason for this is that he was being honest, or seemingly honest with continuity for one of the first times since I’ve met him. It was refreshing and kind of nice.

Then out of the blue he started talking about his teeth. His teeth and their sharp little ends, and how he likes to use them to bite people. He talks about liking to bite, but he usually hurts people when he does. I tell him he can bite me and he asks where. I drew my hair back from my neck and pushed my bra strap out of the way. When he does I giggle, and honestly it wasn’t much and I told him so. He tries again and it’s a little more successful. I taunt him to try harder, so he asks for a less visible area on my body (I choose below my left shoulder). This time it does hurt, so much that I actually feel my feet kicking and a whimper in my throat. He stops and remarks he’s never bitten anyone that hard before. I said I liked it, and we went back to cuddling. More talk, then his breath on my neck, telling me he wants to bite me again. I encourage it and he does. I wish I could put into words the feel of it, but I just can’t.

It could have been the alcohol, or the fatigue, or maybe just the entire environment and the intimacy of it, but whatever the reason may be it just felt like pure bliss. I could have laid there happily for hours having him bite my neck, giving me that sweet taste of pain. It had been awhile since I’ve had it, and so long that I craved it. I felt like a junkie, constantly wanting more. I missed it.

That evolved into kissing, groping, and inevitably sex. The sex was good. I mean this in the sense that it was drunk sex, which is never truly fulfilling or satisfying for me. I laid there I enjoyed the process, but in a way I would have preferred going back to the biting. The alcohol helped to dull the pain, which meant he could be rougher, harder. Then I started to feel dizzy about half way through, and my mind wished for nothing more than sleep. My head felt heavy along with my entire body. Too much alcohol. It killed my sex drive. He kissed me again and that brought me back somewhat, but I just couldn’t fully recover.

After the sex he was rather detached. But so was I. This boy has called me sketchy in the past, and I’ve always taken it as being rather rude. That night (pre-coitus) he explained that girls are one of two things to him: predictable, or sketchy. Being sketchy means he doesn’t know what I am thinking, what I mean, or where I’m at. It keeps him on his toes. I think the post-coitus was a prime example because I was pretty mentally out of it, and I don’t think he knew what to do. Cuddle? Kiss me? Leave me alone? We talked, but we laid apart after. Slept a bit.

We didn’t talk after he left that day. But I honestly wasn’t that nervous about awkwardness when we did see eachother. Today we did, and it didn’t feel awkward at all. Normal talk, normal laughter, didn’t feel forced just felt … normal for us. I don’t exactly know where this leaves us, as to if this was a one-time thing or if this is the evolution into the illustrious state of ‘fuck buddies’. I don’t want a relationship, and neither does he so at least we’re on the same page there. But what is exactly? Hrmmm. Either way, he owes me a trip to the movies (long story short: when he found out I had a schoolgirl costume he insisted on seeing it. We negotiated, and thus I win).

I’m honestly not sure if I’ll call him on that though. But one thing’s for sure, vanilla boy’s not so vanilla I think. I kind of suspected otherwise, but yeah. I could go for some more biting, I wonder how one propositions for that? ‘My neck is lonely, bring your teeth over’.

In fact, my neck is adorned with red and purple marks from the lesser biting. The hard bite? I have a nice blue-black bruise from that one. So delicious.

Either way, this experience will likely in no way be a regret for me. Will I sleep with others from work? No. Would I repeat it with him? Now that I’ve already taken the plunge and scratched the itch, what’s the harm? It was fun and I liked it, so as long as you’re on the same page .. but we’ll see. But it’s made me realize I’m tired of living my life in this bubble on the internet. I want more sensations, touches, feelings, experiences. I need to move on and get out there. Not to find my partner, my complimentary piece, the person to be with forever. But just to get out there, period.

Which is why I am taking another guy up on the offer of a date next week. I likely won’t sleep with him, but at least I’ll get to flex my dating muscles. In the end, it’s something.

Do The Right Thing

“No good work whatever can be perfect, and the demand for perfection is always a sign of a misunderstanding of the ends of art. ” — John Ruskin

My mind has been taking some time as of late to figure out exactly what it is that I want. And I’ve been mulling over this for weeks now. It seems whenever something I think might pan out and then it crash and burns, well I just seem to spend time overanalyzing things to figure out what went wrong. I’m not doing so much of that this time around, but more like refining what it is exactly that I want and need.

Now being the best time, since I am single and unattached.

One area I’ve been putting a lot of thought into is the whole submission thing. I was so convinced that I wanted pure, whole devoted submission. And I’ve realized that not only does that take a lot out of a person to do it, but it also puts a lot of strain on the relationship between the two parties. I get hyper sensitive and tend to need more attention and maintenance than when I am not in that kind of dynamic. So I guess, in a sense, it was a learning experience.

It’s not to say that I don’t want submission … need it … crave it … but does it need to be an all-or-nothing endeavor? This is what I’ve been wondering. Could I possibly be satisfied with the little things, or am I always going to be missing it? I’ve tried vanilla, and I know it doesn’t work. But at the same time I believe that you need a good solid vanilla-base in order to have a stable D/s dynamic. You need trust, respect, faith, confidence. Without those you’re pretty much just destined for failure to try and take it to another level.

There were aspects of my submission in the past that I really enjoyed. I liked the anklet, having a constant reminder of belonging to someone else (and something I have quite consciously taken notice of in its absence). But instead of giving over control in grandiose manners, the small things were the ones that felt like the had the greatest impact with me. The ones that I enjoyed performing the most, and from which I took the most pleasure. I think that those are aspects in which I would excel in submission, just as long as I keep in mind my experiences and what works best for me. I understand with every partner you have different dynamic and a different flow, but having some guidelines for yourself certainly has to be a good thing.

I’ve found myself in this situation in the past where I am choosing between two people. I’m not vain, if anything it’s quite the opposite. I don’t know how I end up there but I do, and it is what it is. Regardless, in most of these situations it seems like a choice between two people who are opposites of one another. I hesitate to say it’s something akin to good vs. evil, but at the same time that seems like the closest analogy. It’s like the nice sweet guy vs. the funny jerk. And without fail, nine of ten times I pick the guy that screws me over in the end. I always pass over the nice guy for the one that is more arrogant, aggressive, and exciting. And I end up feeling thoroughly kicked by the end of it. It’s karma, I get it.

So why am I passing over the nice guys? I think I feel like they’re not dominant enough. I like a man who isn’t afraid to take control and seize what he wants. I like rough sex, being grabbed, groped, and taken. I guess I have this inherent fear that the nice guy can’t do these things. And maybe I’m wrong, probably I’m wrong. But it’s just this obstacle I can’t seem to overcome.

h. actually called my bluff on this. I remarked on my uncanny ability to pick the wrong guy based on x, y, and z. His reply? Simple logistics, being that if you want the opposite result take an opposite approach.

Meaning? Learn to love the nice guy.

Does that mean it’s going to be any easier? Probably not. I’m worried my fear of being too soft will be justifiable, but then again how do you know unless you try? So as like my occasional travels into the vanilla realm, maybe I’ll take a little visit into the realm of the sensitive Dominant male. Does such a thing exist? Maybe. I’m a skeptic, but I dare the world to prove me wrong.

La Vie Simple

Things do not change; we change. — Henry David Thoreau

So wow, I haven’t posted in like .. ages. I can’t say that my submission/kink/sexuality/whichever has been put on as long of a hold, but .. yeah. Okay, my submission is on a hiatus of sorts, lol. Everything else is kinda … there, just more subdued.

I have the intention of continuing on the anal training course. My body seems to almost be ready for this in its normalcy, but it seems every time I set a specific day aside to work on it something comes up. Blarg. And I actually have been rather busy lately, so it’s justifiable.

Still working on the masturbation thing. For some reason orgasms make me feel rather .. alone. It’s not a fun feeling. Forcing myself into having more until I pass out usually solves that problem. You can’t feel lonely if you’re unconscious, lol.

I think my little hiatus from the scene is almost at its conclusion though. I find myself missing writing my thoughts about D/s. Granted I haven’t been thinking about it all that much lately, but I’ve noticed that over the last few weeks they’ve been creeping back in. No real desire to practice, more to just ponder.

I’m not really sure where I’m at emotionally. I still don’t feel this overwhelming desire to be in a relationship. This one guy keeps bugging me and bugging me for a date, to which I’m half tempted to agree just so he’ll get over it. Such a positive attitude! I don’t know when I became a girl that goes on a date just to get rid of a guy, but so it is. My thirties definitely seem different from my twenties.