Oh Such Lovely Toys ….

“Pain is weakness leaving the body” – Daniel R. Evans

As mentioned numerous times, probably to a sickening frequency, I love breast/nipple torture.  I was surfing submission blogs last night and came across this journal in which the girl spoke of having her breasts beaten by her Master with a conductor’s wand.  Just the mention of it made me close my eyes and purr at the delicious thought of it coming down upon my very own breasts.  As I opened my eyes I made a mental note to make sure I get myself one in the near future.  After seeing the pictures this feeling was doubled because it left such deep, dark welts on her breasts.  He swung it in a manner that left crisscrosses across the entire surface in such an elegant manner … mmmmmmm.

Anyway, I get distracted.  Having finally received the last item in my order from subshop the other day, I realized my collection of nipple agony devices is somewhat complete.  So what better to do than to take a picture of all my lovelies together in one set?  So here they are:

So there are my pretty new shiny toys, which I waited oh-so-anxiously for over a month to have all collected together.  It was rather sad, shopping through subshop intentionally seeking out those that looked the most gruesome.  The black plastic clips were even advertized as being for hardcore practitioners.  And after all that wait, all that excitement, meh.  The only ones that were the least bit uncomfortable were the ones pictured in the bottom left, and that is probably only because they have the adjustability to become utterly cruel devices.  For that, I will love them and squeeze them (on my nipples) and call out to my Sir for mercy.  But yes, seriously, the binder clips are infinitely more painful than any of these toys that were drastically more expensive.  They’ll be good for warming up though, so no worries.

I came across another journal in my spare time last night in which someone mentioned a particular girl who had her breasts nailed to a board, at which point I went “…….”, followed by “?!?!?!??!?!”.  Of course I had to see this, being so into nipple/breast torture myself my curiosity was definitely peaked.  Oh my lord I wish I hadn’t.  At least I know what is now a hard limit for me in this regard since I could never imagine myself succumbing to such a thing.  Then again, I’m not into needles, or piercings, or anything that results in blood really so … yeah.   But for anyone interested, the link is: http://underhishand.com/”you-have-hit-the-nail-on-the-head”.  Do enjoy.

Sam I Am

“Some people see all BDSM experience in the hands of a competent Dom/me as teaching limits and self-discipline, and therefore argue that setting hard limits is itself a subtle form of topping from the bottom, arguing there should be total trust and no preset assumptions. They would instead tend to view the concept of hard limits as another example of attempts by the sub to retain control and dictate to the dom/me what dominance is or is not okay, rather than experiencing genuine surrender and allowing trust to direct the scene.” – NationMaster

When I first started out in the bdsm world, I originally began as a Top.  I had no idea where I fit in with the lifestyle, but I just knew I belonged here.   One day, as a joke challenge from another top, I decapped and ‘pretended’ to be a submissive.  Little did I know that I’d actually come to enjoy it, but I did and I have never really looked back.

That being said, I’ve often wondered how many of my ‘Top’ tendancies might have lingered behind and actually worked themselves into my personality and my future relationships.  I know that I have struggled to submit to most men I’ve been with, and usually when I did it was more of a roleplay than a sincere desire.   And even then, I was pretty much calling the shots throughout the whole thing, which essentially translates to the whole theory of topping from the bottom.  In my opinion, this occurs when the Dominant tries to assert himself and the submissive pushes back.  Sometimes it’s direct, sometimes it’s more subtle/manipulative, and sometimes it’s simply being bratty.

I see there being a very fine line between being playful and being disrespectful.  I can be flirty bratty, and usually this becomes apparent by a change in my voice/demeanor.  This is when I’m indulging my inner SAM (smart-assed masochist).  When doing this I’m intentionally it’s usually because I have an urge to be beaten.  I have issues with asking for pain (i.e.  beatings, spankings, etc ..), or even asking to play in general.  So my general course of action is to be a little sassy and hope that he understands what I am striving for.  I know this is essentially a form of manipulating someone into playing, but I don’t see it as a bad form of it.  Especially if the person is aware of my behavioral tendancies.

But what about if I throw a tantrum, stomp my feet, scream and cry like a child — is this the same thing?  Not exactly.  This I see as being a more direct form of manipulation, and a lot more disrespective to the dynamic.  Usually about this point, after I get upset about something and have my mini-meltdown, the Dominant male feels horrible and humbly apologizes for what happened, even if it wasn’t really his fault.  And at this point, it’s when the power exchange pretty much shifts in my mind and I realize I have control over the situation.  I digress on this point specifically, but it illustrates what I’m trying to say.  By behaving like this and getting this reaction, I’m essentially getting what I want and am the one in control, thus topping from the bottom.  In a way it amuses me, but then it also saddens me because it means I end up being unable to submit to them.  Once a glimmer of vulnerability has been found in their armor, the process is likely to repeat itself over and over again.  Which in a way makes glad Sir hasn’t buckled whenever I threw tantrums.  He just waits until I am done, then carries on.  In fact, instead I seem to have stopped throwing them, and instead try and discuss things in a very open and honest (and adult) manner.

Going back to the issue of asking for what I want, I’m usually afraid of asking for something specific when playing.  In the past, I’d normally just say something to the tune of ‘you know what would make this soooo much better?  If you would do ____’, and then usually they would comply and everyone would be happy.  But with Sir I feel odd about asking for things.  Generally I don’t have to since I’ll think of something and usually within a few minutes he’ll be telling me to do it anyway (kinda creepy sometimes, ha), but even if that weren’t to happen I probably wouldn’t.  Why?  I don’t want to have the feeling that I’m controlling the scene.  Or even that feeling like I’m guiding it.  I’ve done so much of that over the years, and I honestly want to embrace this submission for all that it is.

I think it’s a pretty grey area that the division between communication and topping from the bottom falls within.  I think it’s a tool that can be occasionally used to keep things interesting and satisfy the needs of both parties.  However, I also think that it’s something that should be put into check at times so that it’s not running wild and gets out of control.  From my experience, even the strictest of Dominants will crack a bit of a smile when their submissive shows a bit of playful sass, feist, or bratty behavior.   But walking that fine line is a challenge to make sure you don’t push it too far.  It’s all fun and games until you find yourself bent over a table being beaten with a pinata stick (believe me, ouch).

As for my opening quote, in regards to hard limits being ‘topping from the bottom’, I’m not sure I buy into that concept.  Hard limits to me are basically your not-a-chance rules.  Everyone has them in life, and if they say that they have absolutely none I would call them a liar.  It goes beyond the realm of Dominant/submissive because everyone has one or two things that are non-negotiable like, say, death.  Most people have no desire to die, thus being a hard limit of sorts for them.  Hard limits seem more like lifestyle choices than mere whims of what you like/dislike.  The whole principle of the lifestyle working off of ‘safe sane and consentual’ would be somewhat faulty if it existed without hard limits.  Would people feel as free to submit with their entire being if they didn’t have limits to protect them from the things they cannot bear to participate in?  I suppose you can work off the philosophy that the Dom would not want to break their submissive but nurture it instead.  But not everyone in the world is good, not everything is perfect.  Hard limits exist to make people feel safe in what they do.  Submission shouldn’t be something to fear, it should something you relish.  Yes, it should be unpredictable and a challenge, but it should not be something you dread.  If it were, what would be the point of it, really?  So is a submissive controlling the dynamic by having hard limits?  Not any more than the Dominant would be by having their own.  Thus, they are basically balanced out and negate one another.  In a lifestyle so based upon trust and respect, it seems silly to question about things like these.  And I know this philosophy is an extreme one, but this is exactly why hard limits are needed — so save us from some of the extreme things in life.

Hot Showers

So my nipples are still severely bruised, which makes me pout a good deal.  I am craving the urge to play very badly.  I miss the sweet pain that comes from brutalizing my breasts, and the fact that I cannot have this bothers me greatly.  In usual tradition, it seems as if Sir is on the same wavelength as I am, and I was instructed to put my breasts underneath the hot water for 5 minutes while in the shower today.

Little known fact is that this is a practice I started when I was younger (about 11-12 years old).  My downward spiral into masochism started very young, and at this rather delicate age I would have these totally insane fantasies, but no real way of executing them.  So one of my outputs (the other was using hairclips) was to turn the water on as hot as possible during a shower and press my breasts underneath the flow.   Usually by the time I was done they would be very red and very sore, and I would end up being very aroused (though I never knew really what that feeling was, at the time).  I mentioned this old practice to Sir a few weeks ago, and he’s seen the need to bring it back into use.

So a few times over the past week he’s told me that I should be reviving this practice.   At first it started for a minute, then three.  Today Sir asked how my nipples were, and I replied that they were still bruised.  He instructed me to go take my shower and to hold them under the water for 5 minutes, no questions, just go.  So I hopped into my shower, washed up nice and clean (mmm Satsuma fresh).  Normally I take a hot shower to start with, but for this practice I turn the cold water down to a bare trickle.  I also turn the showerhead on to the massage mode for a more concentrated flow, then slowly ease my chest under the flow.  The effect is instantaneous, the skin turns red and the heat burns across my breasts.  I can only hold it for about 30 seconds before it becomes unbearable and I have to pull back.  I lean against the tile wall, breathing in deeply as the pain sears across my skin.  After a moment push back off and press my right breast under the flow until it becomes too much, when I put the left one beneath.

It hurts, but it at the same time waves of pleasure travel through my body to the very tips of my toes.  And so I alternate, back and forth, until what feels like an eternity (or, at the very least, 5 minutes).  The steam was trapped in the washroom and the shower, making me lightheaded.  I stumble out of the shower and the cold air hits my skin, making my nipples press out until fully erect, resulting in a wince.  Looking in the mirror my chest is bright red, my face flushed, and you can see red lines down my abdomen and thighs from the water trickling down to my feet.  I trace my fingers over them lightly, smiling to myself.

Wrapping a towel around my body I head off to continue the rest of my day.  Getting dressed, eating breakfast, preparing for work.  I find it ironic how I can live this double life of sorts, doing this these with no one knowing.  Fulfilling his whims as they suit him brings me a level of satisfaction that I rarely feel in life these days.  I’m happy he’s figured out ways to make me hurt while I’m recovering, because to be quite honest, I was missing it immensely.

It Figures

I wonder at what point in my life I will realize that doing the right thing usually doesn’t do me any good, and instead ends up biting me in the metaphorical ass.  It’s been a rough few weeks at work, and with it I’ve had a lot of time to think things over.  It’s been an even more emotionally charged weekend where my brain has been kicked into hyperdrive.

At some point while on the phone with a friend of mine this morning I came to the realization that I am not ready to be in a relationship.  Any relationship, with anyone.  Part of this realization was listening to her talk about her upcoming wedding to a man that was the rebound from her ex.  I’ve known for months that she was rushing things, but I kept my mouth shut and now she’s too far along to be stopped.  She didn’t give herself nearly enough time to get over the last one (which was an 8 year relationship), and now she’s marrying a man who lives thousands of miles away whom she can’t be with for at least two more years.  And I came to realize that I’m not over my ordeal with my ex.  I am over him, as a person, but I still haven’t gotten past what he did to me.  I’ve still got baggage, I’ve still got trust issues, I’m still hurt.  I think a part of it is the fact that he seems unwilling to stay out of my life; he keeps trying to stay below the radar so we can be friends.  But by doing this, I’m never getting past what happened, so he’s actually making things worse for me.

When things started with Sir, he said he was a monogamous creature.  He would be with a person, and fully with them.  He wanted me to commit to a relationship, but I was hesitant and he seemed okay with it to an extent.  As time went on we became more attached, we started to care, and I guess we kinda fell into a relationship without my really noticing.  Sure, I told people I was unavailable, but that was more out of courtesy to him than out of desire to be in a monogamous relationship itself.

So talking to my friend, she started her usual push towards a boy that I work with.  She seems to have this insane notion that we’ll hook up for random sex and fall in love or something.  I got perturbed about the situation and told her I wasn’t looking for anything right now, not from him, not from anyone.  So she asked about him (Sir), and I was actually thrown for a loop because I realized that we were essentially in a relationship.  I was then lectured about how unrealistic all of this was.  I found myself defending myself and what I was doing, and in the end she backed off.  When I hung up, I just laid there in bed and wondered to myself “what exactly am I doing?”.

Through a large chunk of the afternoon I went back and forth over this all in my head.  Yes, I enjoy what we are doing, yes I love how I feel through it.  He is a wonderful caring man who’s personality and likes/dislikes compliment mine perfectly.  But yet at the same time my brain is saying ‘this is too soon, you know it’s too soon, and if you keep telling yourself it’s not it’s going to blow up in your face’.  Later I was talking to my father, and he said that I sounded ‘very sad’, and asked if everything was okay.  I said of course, and he pushed because he could tell something was bothering me.  I pushed back and told him I didn’t want to talk about it.  No surprise that a few hours later my sister should call to see what was up.  My sister was notorious for picking on me while I was texting with him, so she knows what’s up.  So I ran my thoughts off of her, and she concluded the same thing that I was afraid of, being that I’m not ready for a relationship.  She knows me like the back of my hand, and I know she only has my best intentions at heart.  I got off the phone with her, my stomach feeling heavy and my head feeling like a bumbled mess.

So when we talk, I tell him how I feel.  That I’m not ready, I can’t give him a commitment right now.  There is no one else, that isn’t the reason.  It’s not him, it’s me.  And it truly is me.  As I told him, if this was a year from now it would probably be a different story, but it’s not and I can’t change how things are.  He says very little, and then when I’m finally quiet he simply says that he is at a crossroads, there is only one choice and that things are ‘done’.  He can’t be with me and cannot do what we do (bdsm, rituals, obedience, etc..) if I’m not going to be in a relationship with him.  I was confused and tried to argue that we weren’t in a relationship when all of this started, but in the end I guess I gave up.  I don’t want to be the person that argues with someone to make them do what they want.  If he wants it to be done, then so it shall be.  I might not like it, but it’s not my call anymore.  I can honestly say that I was fighting off tears because I genuinely do care, and it hurt so bad to tell him all that was plaguing my mind.  But I’d rather be the person that is honest than the person that is fake.  At no point did I ever lie, or deceive, or fake anything with him.  I take pride in the fact that I was genuine about how I felt, how I acted, and how deep my submission was.  I can honestly say that I have never given myself over that much to a person, nor told anyone all that I divulged to him.  He was the sadistic bastard I always yearned for … bah.

I’m not going to do this, I’m not going to be this person.  I just wanted to write this out so weeks from now, months from now, years from now, when I’m thinking back and going ‘so why did I never explore things with him when it was what I wanted and needed?’, I’ll have my answer.  Because of my stupid brain in my stupid head that won’t process crap out in a timely manner.  So I am without my Sir, but I guess I’ll survive.  Eventually the wounds will heal and time will go on, and all will be okay.  I think I’m going to keep this blog regardless though.  I like having an output for my submission thoughts/views.  Even if not for him, I suppose I should do it for me.

Affectional Battlefield

“The affections are like lightning; You cannot tell where they will strike till they have fallen.” – Jean Baptiste Lacoraire

A debate that I’ve had numerous times over the years with a slew of people is always the like vs. love debate.  People put a lot of mental and emotional effort into sorting out exactly how they feel, or how they think they should feel, about the person they are with.  I find most people tend to get so wrapped up in the idea of being in love that they forget to actually -be- in love.

By my definition, there are four categories of affection you can experience for someone: friendship, like, infatuation, and love.  Friendship is a relationship between two people that is platonic in nature — neither of the parties wishes for it to progress past this state, and are happy like this.  Friendship can have affectionate tones, even a love of sorts, but again platonically.  You essentially enjoy eachother’s company on the level it is currently at.

Infatuation is a more primal attraction, purely instinctual/hormonal.  Lust incarnate.  You’re drawn to this person, but you have no idea why.  Your body will tingle and burn, and you feel a need to be with them, even if just for a short period of time and then never again.  This is more of the infamous ‘one night stand’ type of affair.

Like comes after knowing someone for a period of time.  It can or cannot be an evolution from friendship or infatuation, or it can just come from knowing someone for a long period of time.  You can like someone without really even -knowing- them.  It can be like infatuation, but less sexually driven.  To like someone, you generally have a desire to spend time with them, and usually you don’t care in what capacity that is.

Love is kind of like the supreme state of affection.  It usually is a mixture of infatuation with friendship, and/or an evolved state of like.  It typically will not occur quickly and requires knowing the person a long time.  You feel as if you know the person on a level above any of the others, and think about them near constantly.  When thinking of them, you feel warm-fuzzy-happy, and usually a smile comes on your face.  It is like the perfect combination of the three other possibilities all in one package.

Over the course of my life I think I’ve been in love like twice, and both times my heart has been ripped out and danced on by the cruel bitch.  I’ve been infatuated a few times, and had plenty of friends.  I’ve also liked a lot, but never really do much about it most of the time.  Is it bad that I’m one of those types of people that is okay on their own, as long as they have friends in their life?  But at the same time, I can completely appreciate having someone who compliments me and my personality.  I’ve seen love come and go, and instead leaves you in a state where you feel somewhat trapped, which sucks.  But I guess, like everything in life, it’s all a gamble? No.

Wow, I have so rambled and gotten off topic.  Did I have a topic?  Hrmm, not sure.  I think I merely wanted to get my hierarchy down as a point of reference.  It seems to me that as soon as emotions get dragged into the mix everything becomes infinitely more complicated that if people remained emotionally detatched.  But then, would you get to fully appreciate the person you’re with, or your compatibility?  Conundrum.

I think I’m currently in a transitional state with Sir.  Instead of using terms such as ‘like’ or ‘love’ (premature), we tend to just indicate that we adore one another.  Which is truthful and valid.  And it is what it is, plain and simple.

Penis Envy

“Respect the cock! And tame the cunt! Tame it!” – Magnolia

I know the quote isn’t my usual style which is of a serious nature, but it made me giggle, and I felt it was somewhat appropriate for the topic that I chose today.  Sir had pointed out that I hadn’t actually posted yet using a ‘cock’ tag, he said jokingly.  I know that there are two topics in regards to ‘the cock’ that I’ve wanted to explore in discussion, so I figured I might as well tackle one of them today, but decisions decisions ….

Cock worship?  So it is.  I don’t know what it is about cocks but .. ugh.  So yummy.  Maybe it’s a penis envy thing, the whole wanting-what-you-don’t-have schtick.  I know a lot of men are the same way about boobs because they are something they don’t have.  They become facinated by them, and find their gaze mysteriously drawn to them.  I’m by no means saying that I’m a cockwatcher, quite the opposite.  When the odd occasion arises and I find myself turning in a chair and my face inches from a man’s covered crotch, I immediately cast my eyes downwards and feel my cheeks burn, flushing a deep, dark red.  Usually this happens at work, in which a lingering gaze would likely be … awkward.

However, put me in a situation where I turn to find a naked cock inches from my face and the situation is … somewhat similar.  My immediate response would be to cast my eyes downwards, and probably blush again.  But then I would nibble on my lip and slide my gaze back up to focus on it, biting down harder the longer I stare at it, resisting the urge to take it into my mouth and devour it completely.  As much as I love a hard cock (the look of the length of it before me usually results in my cunt becoming immediately drenched), I  much prefer the sensation of taking it into my mouth while it’s still soft, working it over until it’s nice and erect, making me choke on the girth of it.  But I feel like I’m getting ahead (pardon the pun) of myself here.

Cock worship to me is showing appreciation for the greatness that is, simply, the cock.  I can stare at them for hours in wonder without getting bored.  Nuzzle them with my nose, rubbing my cheek or lips over them like a puppy rubbing against a hand for pets (in fact, I commonly resort to a puppy play mindset when doing cock worship).  Kissing, nibbling, licking the shaft and the balls, nudging them with my nose, maybe even giving very delicate playful nips.

I find that I enter this state of wanting to do these things especially after sex, after I’ve orgasmed and his cum is buried deep inside of me.  The fact that his cock is slathered in the combination of my juices with his, and just sitting there on his cock drying, to be washed off later .. it’s blasphemous to me.  When I can get up the courage to ask to clean him I relish every second and every drop that is present there.  And oh yes, I will literally explore every nook to find every little miniscule amount until his cock is as clean as before we started, leaving no evidence that anything ever happened.  I would do it every day, every time, if it was allowed.

I find that the skin of a cock usually tastes saltier than the skin anywhere else on the body.  It also has this natural smell to it that I can never accurately describe other than to say that it is a natural aphrodisiac to me.  The smell of a man’s crotch can hit me just as hard as the sight of his cock.  I can typically identify when a cock is within a few feet of me just by this scent, and like jizz is different for every man, I’m convinced that no two men smell alike.

Speaking of smell, this is where I tend to show how I discriminate against cocks:  I don’t do uncircumsized.  My first experience with the cock was with a boy who was not circumsized.  I’m guessing he wasn’t very well maintained in his cleanliness because the taste of him was … *shudders*.  I believe I literally gagged and yanked my mouth off of his cock before I even fully took it in.  This boys and girls is what we call the wonderful smegma monster.  And how I loathe it.  I think my introduction being tainted by smegma is probably why I have actual issues with going down on a guy who is an uncircumsized man.  If a man, no matter how dominant, tells me that he is not circumsized, my nose automatically wrinkles up and I shake my head.  I cannot do it, even the thought of it makes me gag.  Cleanliness aside, the entire prospect of head with that man is ruined.  Which is sad, really, because I have seen some truly beautiful uncircumsized cocks in my day.

So cock, yay or nay?  Definitely a yay in my case.  I feel at my happiest (and perhaps most subservient) when on my knees servicing a man.  This isn’t to be confused with mouth fucking, which is another absolutely delicious endeavor that I love.  But to be the one controlling the pace, being able to be slow as to fully enjoy the sensation and feel of his cock, the taste and smell and look of it.  To not be told what to do, but just appreciate his cock for what it is.  To take it into my mouth while small, and know that what I do is what brings it to its fully erect state.  And finally, to taste his cum in my mouth, feel it trickling down my throat, like a reward for a job well done.  Even though I guess in my mind the entire process, the permission and ability to enjoy his cock like I do, is reward enough.

Random

So we just played, and Sir wasn’t going to allow me to orgasm.  Then he decided later that I could have the one, and I did, which was a wonderful one experienced by my pinching my clitoris.  I don’t have to twist or move or anything really, just pinch, and the harder I pinch the closer I come to cumming until .. there we have it.  I know most women know this trick, but honestly I’m new to the whole realm of masturbation using my hands.  I’ve only been masturbating for like, maybe 6 years?  And usually I relied heavily on eggs for clitoral stimulation.

Anyway, the funny thing I’m realizing is that as awesome as these clit-pinching orgasms are, they don’t satisfy my need.  It makes me want more and more and more.  I turn into this insatiable creature that demands more orgasms.  It’s very abnormal — typically I cum and then I’m done with it.  Tidy up, move on with life.  But with these, ugh.  A never ending cycle.

So Sir decided to -not- let me have a vaginal orgasm.  And despite my whining he stuck to this, then further made me play with myself for another 10 minutes.  An interesting thing is that he likes cunt spankings.  Me, not so much.  They hurt .. A LOT.  So in that 10 minutes there would be periods of spankings, which made my clit and such more tender and .. yeah, you can see where this is going.  Then at the end, I had to pinch the clit again, but without cumming.  So close, so goddamn close …  ugh.

It’s a love/hate thing really.

So now I’m left on this constant edge, wanting… needing… release but without being able to get it.  Is it bad that I hope he has an early night tonight with the boys and he’s not overly sadistic, and maybe a smidgen merciful to me?  I really need a cock in me tonight.  Like bad, very very bad.

Oh as a sidenote, my nipples are bruised.  Like purple-black bruised.  For a moment I panicked and thought maybe they were too damaged, but apparently they will be okay.  Putting the blue clips on the tips confirmed that they function properly, and are way too sensitive for anything right now. O_o

Human vs. Robot

“The sign of an intelligent people is their ability to control emotions by the application of reason.” – Marya Mannes

I had a few other topics floating around in my mind today to blog about, but an interesting gem ended up landing in my lap by a most unexpected source.  While chatting on IRC I ended up in a rather peculiar conversation with a male Dominant that I actually hold in rather high esteem and believe to be very intelligent, even if sometimes he makes bad jokes that make me physically shudder.  Either way, a subject that was too delicious to pass up materialized right before my very eyes …

him: It’s like Tops who can’t do what they want because it’s not Toppish. What’s up with that?

me: like show emotion? Or are we talking more along the lines of bake cookies or knit?

him: I was thinking more pervy things, but those too.

him: “emotionally accessible” is for wimps.

Now I know for a fact he was being sarcastic about his last comment, but it got me thinking about this subject again.  I think I might have brushed up on this in an earlier post, but I never really got too in depth about my feelings about a Dominant showing his feelings.  I think adding to the irony is that Sir and I had a discussion about a similar subject just the other day.

My brain works in its own overly complex manner that seems to be a completely separate entity from that of anyone else walking the planet.  Borg, I am not.  And I don’t mean this in terms of my lifestyle choices of diving into the wonderous world of bdsm.  In fact, I think my journey into this area has probably made my  brain even more distorted.  I identify myself primarily as a submissive.  If I had to put a value on my submission to Dominance streak it would be something akin to 85:15 submissive:Dominant.  The irony about that 15% however is that it’s not me having this overwhelming urge to tie someone up and use them, or humiliate them, or basically Top them in whichever way they see fit.  In that small percentage of time is when I feel as if I am dominating my Dominant — if I am teasing him sexually, if I am throwing a tantrum and he trips over himself to make things right, or if (and this is going to sound bad) he shows he cares to much.  My brain seems to view men showing how they care as, in a sense, submitting themselves to me.  Which might explain the issues that popped up in past relationships with people who associated themselves as dominants.

In the bdsm community it is common practice to associate females as submissive and males as Dominants.  In the “real world” it is common practice to associate females with being emotional creatures and males as being emotional voids.  Thus, by association, submissives are generalized as being emotional and Dominants as being cold.  It’s the view that atypical Dominant behavior is showing emotions, letting your submissive know how you feel about anything more complex than if you are pleased or displeased.  And that’s rather sad if you think about it, because we’re essentially telling Dominants that it’s wrong to feel, or at least it’s wrong to show or talk about how you feel.  It’s like we’re saying we want them to be less human, more machine or robot.

I think a large part of my issues in the past with submitting to men came with the fact that they always cared more for me than I did for them.  This normally would not be a problem, except for the fact that it was blatantly obvious in every aspect of our interaction.  I controlled the relationship, how fast it went, how far it went, how intense it became.  And it’s not the actually caring that was the problem, but just that they stumbled over themselves to show it, which in a way was showing weakness, like a dog rolling on its back exposing its belly.  And seeing that type of behavior tends to bring out the alpha dominant in my personality, thus ruining the dynamic.

Going back to my discussion with Sir, the topic came up of him ‘wearing his heart on his sleeve’.  At the time I didn’t see any problem in this process because it’s not as if he’s an overly emotional person.  He says what he feels as he feels it, but it’s not bubbly or in excess.  He doesn’t drag it out into these huge romantic dialogues in a Jerry-Maguire “you complete me” manner.  He tells it how it is and keeps it simple, but makes his point clear.  With this I have a generalized idea of how he feels, but I never know with exact specifics.  I can’t quantify who cares more than the other, and this always leaves me with this feeling of curiosity.  I know my submission with him is not solely based on his emotional delivery, but I think it’s a contributing factor.

Which brings me back to the original point of this entire post:  should Dominants be able to show how they feel, or essentially ‘wear their hearts on their sleeves’?  I’m not really sure to be honest.  On a level I have the belief that people need to express themselves; they need to let out how they feel lest run the risk of having it eat them up inside.  And then there is always the possibility that they are too emotionally segregated to the point where they let nothing out, and then their partner will leave them for actually being -too- cold.  In regards to D/s, I’m just not sure on my stance.  I think there needs to be a particular balance, but I’m not sure of the exact proportions required  (i.e. 60% cold + 40% emotional = 100% harmony?).  With my personality I know I need someone who isn’t oozing affection at every turn, and so far with Sir it’s been a pretty good balance.  But I know I also need someone who isn’t completely closed off to me.  Is it okay for a dominant to talk about their feelings?  If Sir has a bad day, feels run down and/or depressed, should he hesitate to tell me?  I’d like him to tell me.  It wouldn’t make him look weak in my eyes, it would just make him look more human.  But I guess it’s all in the dynamic that we have, in the web we weave.  Ours seems to be very soundly footed in D/s, but has vanilla aspects integrated into it.  I think as long as it doesn’t flip-flop so that vanilla is the yummy middle and D/s is the candy coating we should be alright.  So yes, I like him for being the cold, calculated, sadistic bastard that he is, but I also like him for being himself, for being human and not afraid to show it.

You = Me

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone elses opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” – Oscar Wilde

I feel as if I might be writing too often in this blog, overcrowding my posts and my thoughts so that’s nothing is standing out clearly on its own.  But at the same time, if I don’t get these thoughts out somehow, what is the point of having the blog?  Exactly.

Yesterday was  a day filled with introspection while at work.  No, I am not bored.  No, I don’t need a heavier workload.  I think I just need to learn to condition myself to shut off my brain to focus solely on work rather than indulge my pavlovian instinct to let my brain run wild with any topic that peaks my interest.  Seriously, it interferes with my productivity.

As is probably obvious by the previous post, my brain was focused primarily on the topic of collars.  My views on collars have come and gone over the years, and it seemed to me as if their importance came and went as did my partners.  Which made me have almost like a mini-epiphany — exactly how much of my likes/dislikes were dependant on whom I was with at the time?

I’ve always known that I’ve had a chameleon-style of personality.  I mean I am who I am, I don’t pretend or fake anything to be accepted by others.  The people whom I surround myself with as friends generally are similar to me in one way or many; I’m not much of the ‘opposites attract’ type.  But I have noticed that my personality can tend to shift depending on whom I’m with, meaning that some aspects of it become more predominant while others tend to be less active.  For instance, with a friend that shares my interest of reading we’ll likely discuss books or shop for some together.  With someone who likes gaming we’ll likely discuss games, or hit an arcade or chill at home playing some Wii.  With my kink friends I’m more open about my tastes and lifestyle choices vs. my vanilla friends.  So I don’t view it as changing myself, but more like fine-tuning it to meet the tastes of my company.

I find it ironic that knowing this about myself, I never actually entertained the idea that I might do the same in my relationships.  Looking back on it, it rationalizes a lot of things for me.  I like to use gradient scales to illustrate my preferences for kink stuff.  While talking to Sir the other night I actually was able to point out to him how my scale has evolved over the years.  I.E.

start –>   s/m > D/s > bondage

later –>  D/s > s/m > bondage

later –> D/s > bondage > s&m

later –> bondage > D/s > s&m

end –> bondage > s&m > D/s

If those were randomly mixed up into a hat I would be able to tell you exactly which set matched up with each of my partners.  And upon further reflection I notice that each one matches up with what my partner liked at that time.  So unlike my personality which just undergoes my amplification in certain areas, it appears that my tastes in kinks actually exhibit the same reaction.

This makes me wonder if maybe I have always had the overwhelming desire to please.  I mean, I’m a pretty well-rounded kinkster.  I’m a decently hardcore masochist, an utter bondage whore, and I can definitely be a somewhat bratty submissive (and as of late, one a little more compliant).  It just seems that what I needed, or what I craved, at any given point in my life depended on what my partner wanted or craved.  Maybe in a way that’s why I was never fully happy in any of them.  I can say with certainty that the one I was the most happiest in was D/s > s&m > bondage.  And if I am to sit here and actually think over the course of my life, and try and deduce what is my overall hierarchy, this is what I come up with:  s&m > D/s > bondage.  Which is essentially where I started (irony:  the song I am listening to says, and I quote: as we break and we bend and  we turn it inside out to take it back to the start and through the rise and falling apart we discover who we are).

This made me question things about what’s going on with Sir.  For one, is the only reason I am taking this submission so seriously because he does?  Am I so compliant because he demands it of me, and everything about his demeanor indicates that he intends to get just that, no if ands or buts about it?  I’d like to think it’s not that simple, and I am here and doing this because it’s what I want.  And I honestly do believe that since I’ve vocalized it over and over again.  I can’t see myself saying something that isn’t true repetitiously.  And so I wondered, and wondered, and wondered, until one part of our conversation hit home for me.  I was telling him how I have never had a rape scene that met all of my expectations.  Somewhere along the line my tears and kicking and screaming would make my partner ‘care’ too much to continue.  Either that or they were never able to be aggressive enough for what I wanted.  I left it at that, and then he discussed how they were a tricky thing.  We went back and forth about it, and in the end I listened to his description of the scene without contributing much.  And as I listened I realized with more and more certainty that is exactly what I want and what I need.  I need someone to indulge their sadism and make me cry and hurt like I desire it.  I need the prospect of being used and abused to his whims.  And I need for him to play that fantasy out with me.  There was one hitch between his version and mine, but one that could work with a compromise.  Would I do it to experience the other 95% that I have been craving for the past 10 years?  Absolutely.  But I’ve strayed from the point somewhat.  The point is that I was worrying that I was basically taking his thoughts and making myself think that they were my own.  But in that moment, in that exact moment, when I thought of my desires, and then he talked of his and I found that they matched up with mine near perfectly, I realized that it’s a good chunk of me wanting this, not just doing it because he wants it of me.  Can I handle the idea of being me, and getting what I truly want?  I’d like to think so, but I guess time will tell.

What A Pretty Necklace

“The collar is put on from without, but what it encircles comes from within. Slavery, true slavery, comes from within.” — Savages of Gor

Today I went out to do some errands and was greeted with a strange sight, something I haven’t seen in months, something that I’ve missed and been envious of Sir getting to see a few times already this year.  It makes me happy, and is very aesthetically pleasing to me when in the right format.  Snow people, I am talking about snow.  Getting home from running some errands I pulled on some slippers and now find myself curled up with a hot cup of chocolate chai tea.  It’s amazing how something so ordinary can instigate an urge for something of comfort.  Which got me thinking of other things that can be of comfort, specific to this post, collars.

A common topic of interest in the bdsm community it has brought many together and driven others apart.  I’ve seen many an argument erupt from this subject, often between people who held one another in high esteem.  And while it seems that most people are on the same page about what a collar is and what it means, there always seems to still be enough differences of opinion to grate on the nerves of others.

So what is a collar, to me?  A piece of leather with a lock on it?  Wow, that seems overly simplified.  Not untrue in any way, but it is a drastic understatement.  Symbolically, a collar in my eyes is akin to a wedding ring in the vanilla world.  First point: it indicates the desire of both parties to embark on this journey together.  Second point:  it denotes proprietary rights of the Dominant over the submissive.  Third point:  it denotes the submissive’s willingness to give their ‘gift’ to the Dominant.  Fourth point:  it shows that the Dominant chooses to accept that submissive as theirs.  Fifth point:  it is a sign of strong trust and a strong bond.  Sixth point:  don’t fuck with it.

There are various levels of collars that can be discussed as well: the notorious velcro collar, protection collars, D/s collars, M/s collars, gorean collars, etc.  Velcro collars I don’t feel are worth the time and effort to discuss.  Quite simply, they are people who just recently met and decided to be with one another.  Usually as quickly as they start, they end.  Much more commonly found in the online realm than in real life (though I have seen them from time to time …).  Protection collars can be specific to a person or sometimes even to a channel itself.  It’s not so much a Dominant/submissive relationship, but more of a guardian style.  It is usually not associated with any play or romance, more like a ‘big brother’ style of collar.  D/s collars are more serious, for people who are invested in one another, and follow the D/s lifestyle.  M/s collars are more extreme versions of D/s collars, being that the M/s lifestyle is an enhanced version of D/s with a much deeper level of submission and control than the former.  Gorean collars, like velcro collars, aren’t of particular interest to me since I never really understood the gor lifestyle as a whole.

There is also the aspect of online collars vs. real life collars.  Online collars come and go a lot faster than real life collars from my experience.  Perhaps I should integrate some personal experience into this to clarify.  I fear I’m digging myself a hole here in regards to my Sir.  The other night we were discussing this very topic and I came out with a very oddball figure for the number of collars I have had in my 11 years in the lifestyle.  Somehow I thought I only had a few.  Thinking over it right now, I have had 3 online collars and 1 real life collar.  Which averages out to almost one every 3 years, which isn’t quite so bad …. okay, who am I kidding?  Now if you examine the lifespan of each however, where online collars usually only lasted like 3 months tops vs. my real life collar which was probably about two years … not so bad, right?

Since my real life collar I have only had one online one.  Ironically, after that I entered a near-four year relationship with a man who was kinky.  And yet even though we were together, I was never collared to him.  We played with collars, but I never really -was- collared.  He loved the appearance of them around my neck (I personally was very partial to my fuschia patent leather sparkly kitten one), but he never seemed to have any desire to take me as his in this manner.  Which suited me fine, since I never felt the overwhelming desire to reciprocate the gesture.  Even if on my knees, bound with a collar around my neck, it just felt like .. play.  A collar I guess was more of an accessory than a symbol of anything.  There was passion, there was emotion, there was attachment, there was even love, but no devotion or submission to our relationship.

I guess in a way my brain equates collars as something fun and frivilous in some way, even though I wish to take it more seriously.  I would completely entertain the notion of doing another real life collar if there was someone whom I felt compelled to be owned by, whom I yearned to call Master, whom I needed to belong to completely.  But online?  I definitely don’t think it’s my thing.   In fact, I don’t even know if I would want to attach a real life collar to an online nickname.  Does that make me sound lame?  It’s not my intention, not at all.  I am a very private person; I don’t enjoy having the world know all there is about me (yes, I understand the irony of that comment when I put it all out here in a journal, but it’s different).  I have never been very much into PDAs, and definitely not an exhibitionist when it comes to playing or sexuality.  I guess in a sense I’ve also been rather private in my relationships.  I know that most of the local crowd knew I was with my ex, but I don’t think they ever knew exactly to what capacity our relationship was at.  As well, when it ended it was pretty much up to me on how to tell whom and when.  Having a collar attached to your name, if it ends, everyone knows automatically because that collar has disappeared.  Then there is awkwardness, and humans are naturally curious creatures and will be inclined to ask how you are, what happened, do you need anything?  Which increases the awkwardness of the entire situation substantially.  I know people at work that only found out a month or so ago that things with my ex have dissipated.  I like news about my life to be delivered on my terms, and not to feel like a specimen on display.  I guess based on this logic someone could speculate that I assume all relationships will end by not wanting to publicize them, which probably has some merit.  But I’ve never been the type to want to flaunt.  In my mind I know, he knows, who cares about anyone else?

I know I’ve definitely outgrown the idea of online collars, but what about real life collars?  I think I’d be willing to try it for the right person, but only if we had met in real life prior to the experience.  The point being that even if I had a real life collar, I probably wouldn’t reflect it online.  At least not at my current hangouts.   Somewhere new, where no one knows me, that might be different.  But yeah, I’m not entirely sure.  Another issue with a real life collar is that I could never practically wear one daily.  My employer would have little tolerance for such a thing to start with, yet alone with my current level of responsibility (where I am expected to look and behave like a professional at all times).  It’s not to say that something else couldn’t be substituted, like a chain, a bracelet, a ring, earrings, or an anklet.  But would that in some way trivialize the symbolism of it?  I don’t think so, but I know it’s not as serious as the ‘public collars’ (thicker steel chains/tubes).  I guess my public/professional lifestyle doesn’t accomodate for my personal lifestyle, which is rather tragic.

There was one more key point I wanted to focus on with this topic (oh the length of it already, I feel as if I could write about this all day for some reason):  how is a collar gone about in its delivery?  I’ve always been of the opinion that the Dominant should offer it to the submissive if they think they are worthy of it.   It is the decision of the Dominant when the submissive is ready, and if they desire the submissive to have their collar around their neck.  This has pretty much always been my stance on it.  Then Sir offered his view on it, and it got me thinking somewhat.  His opinion is that a submissive should ask the Dominant for the collar, then the Dominant decides whether it is appropriate or not.  The point of asking is ensuring that the submissive is ready, and shows their commitment to what is about to happen.  The Dominant doesn’t have to offer the collar then, but at least all the cards are on the table.  I hope I translated this point of view accurately, because I do find his perspective interesting.  Could I ever do that?  I’m doubtful, just because I’m a shy creature by nature (I am, stop laughing!), especially when it comes to how I feel.  I am so good at butchering my words when it comes to relaying how I feel, ugh.  It makes me hurt in all the bad ways.  But either way, his perspective makes me think.  I understand his view, and can respect it completely.  I’m just not sure of applicability in all cases because it’s somewhat non-traditional.

Which I guess is the ultimate irony of all — in a lifestyle that bases itself on being non-traditional, breaking the rules of normalcy and embracing alternatives for their possibilities, why is it that I think I’d never be able to wrap my head around his view?  This has left me pondering about it all day long.  Are collars for me?  I’d like to think so, but I’m not entirely sure.  If I was owned, if I had someone I could call Master, that would probably be enough for me.  I understand the symbolism and admire it, but I think I’m just so used to the idea of it being more decorative that I could never fully appreciate it for what it is.  But maybe .. who knows.  I don’t need a collar to let me know who I am, but I could desire one to help me be who I wish to be.  I guess time will tell.