on a scale of 1-10

one of the beautiful things about the internet in all it's twisty and winding ways is that we do not have to lie about what it is we want. maybe we're getting impatient, or bored, or unbearably lonely. but lying about facts won't help one's cause.

it used to be that if one was a masochist, one needed to "submit" to someone to get those needs met. perhaps that took rise out of the old guard, where the culture was based on respect, and there were things akin to rites that brought one from one level to another in the community. so, if you wanted pain, you gave respect to the one who could dish it out well, and relatively safely. that's not necessarily submitting, but as the kink world grew, it re-interpreted as such.

my point is that now, thanks to the internet and the endless clarification of terms, you don't have to call yourself submissive in order to get your masochistic needs met. BDSM is not all the same thing, it's an umbrella term that covers all sorts of types and fetishes. for some people the worlds meet, and in others, very separate.

using myself as an example: i am not a masochist. i do not get off on pain - i can't get aroused by being in physical (or emotional) pain alone. my personal fetish is control. my owner uses pain to reinforce his control over me, and it is in that regard that i "enjoy" it. if you put me with a top who giggled, i'd be out of there in a hurry. it's not funny to me. however, as a top, i'm definitely a sadist. i have just about zero interest in controlling another person, but i thoroughly enjoy hurting someone to the point where they grit their teeth, or possibly even scream.

so, i'm at one end of the spectrum for D/s, and the other for S/m. in my own brain, i understand this perfectly well. for years, i was with a man who was only a kind-of dominant, but a huge sadist. it was a horrible mis-match. my owner now is a good fit for me - the overall relationship needs for him are about control, but his sexual fetish is pain. without the control, it undercuts any painplay that might happen, and de-values it. i've found that we have less pain-involved play, but that's probably because the *primary* need of D/s (extreme control) is being met for satisfactorily for both of us for now.

i get frustrated by people who seem (i can't prove it) to *use* D/s or S/m to get to the other, seeing them as part of the same continuum. if you're not interested in D/s, don't manipulate someone into a relationship who needs it. if you don't want painplay (for example, a dominant who abhors really hurting anyone physically) don't get involved with a masochist.

please. be honest about your needs and you'll have better luck getting them met. i promise.

yield

"what does Y-I-E-L-D mean?"

so far, what i've found is that most of daily life for us isn't about dominance and submission. what i've found are words that are much better descriptors. "yield" for example. i was trying to explain this particular street sign to someone who won't need to know the particulars of traffic intersections for at least another ten years, and found myself describing a perfect analogy for daily life.

"it's kind of like. well. when two cars come to an intersection..."

"what's an 'intersection'?"

"well. it's. um. when two cars meet going in different directions. and they have to decide who's going to go first."

"why?"

"why what?"

"why do they have to decide who goes first?"

"well. um. because they might crash?"

"oh."

"yeah. so. when there's a sign that says 'yield', it means that person has to wait for the other person to go first."

"always?"

"well, if there isn't another car, then they don't have to wait for someone to go first, because. well. there isn't anyone else to go first except them, right?"

"oh. so if you're the only car on the street, even if it says 'yield', you don't have to, right?"

"yeah."

"oh. what happens when both cars want to 'yield'?"

"well. that's a problem. because then no one would go first, 'cause they'd keep waiting for someone else to go."

"and they'd never get where they were going."

"exactly."

missionaries

what i can't get over is the fact that this feels like the most normal relationship i've ever been in.

that's not to say that the two of us aren't special, unique and talented individuals (although i suppose that's a matter of personal taste, really), but that the basic workings of any relationship, and it's success, are dependent on mutual goals, and a commitment to seeing them through.

for the sake of hilarity, use a missionary christian couple as a comparison. against all odds, cultural, physical, personal, they work together for a common goal. along the way they may experience incredibly joy and elation, and deep, dark moments of grief and hopelessness. there's no specific end to their "journey", it's just a matter of doing what feels right, and truthful, and that there really is no other path that seems justified.

so switch out the proselytizing for violent sex, and i don't see a lot of difference.

over and over again, i keep seeing the similarities between a hardcore bdsm TPE Owner/property relationship and - religion.

(i have nothing to say about the picture other than i laffed. a lot.)

responsibility

not surprisingly, one of the biggest reliefs of this relationship is having someone else responsible for making decisions. i'm not saying that i abdicate responsibility for my life, the things i do, and the repercussions (although it would be far easier to do that), but that the complete stress of making important decisions on my own is eradicated.

maybe it's not any different in egalitarian relationships. which i know very little about.

the weight of what my owner has chosen to do for "our" future is pretty big. it's not just me that's making changes, big ones, in order to accommodate a potential future together. it make me that much more wary of fucking this all up, because i know damned well what he's prioritizing, and while it's flattering and special and etc., it's pretty damned scary, too.

i'm overthinking this. he is, too, i think.

everything is almost packed. i can't find the cheese grater. here's a pic of what it looks like, if you find it.

up down up down

for the most part, this week hasn't gone any better than last week. i go through daily cycles of panic/nausea/relax/numb over and over again. during one of those cycles that almost brought me to tears, my owner calmly told me that he demanded that i show grace under pressure. no exceptions. it worked.

i don't know how dominants do it. i need this. i needed that.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

the whole brat thing confuses me. cuteness, i get. whip-smart i get. i even get i'm-not-actually-submissive-but-i-am-a-slave. but i've never been able to wrap my brain around the brat concept. i mean, i get it from an intellectual standpoint (gosh knows you'll never find me saying something is *wrong* with it), i just can't seem to put myself into that particular role with any success. it doesn't come naturally.

i've been up and down and through all the thinking about why i do things my owner requires or directs when i don't want to. big things and little things. (last night, for example, he added more vegetables than i wanted to my plate. i ate them.) i don't think i'm in a place yet where i never ever consider not obeying - i can't claim internal enslavement. there's often a brief second or two of "but i don't wanna," before i do it.

so why? it's never been about love. it's sometimes about trust, but that's not really the constant.

i think the reason i do it, for him, is respect. every time i obey, even when i don't want to, it's about showing respect. he deserves that, i think. if i *don't* do whatever-it-is, then i am actively disrespectful. *that*, i don't want to do. i can't bear to think about how he would feel if i were disrespectful. and i guess in my twisted brain, brattiness is the ultimate show of disrespect.

no disrespect to anyone who likes brats, of course.

happiness

"...happiness
is a warm gun..."

- The Beatles

how do you make someone happy? i'm asking this, and it's a two-sided question. part one involves is it possible to force, make, coerce, your property to change it's feelings? and part two, is it possible, or correct, to use the phrase, "you make me happy"?

i'm not always in a good mood. in fact, i've been characterized as moody, brooding, tempermental, sad. sometimes happy, balanced, too, but that's more recent. and sometimes i'm not having a good time. yes, i serve my owner happily most of the time, and it's gratifying to do so. sometimes i serve him and i am not happy about it. sometimes he has me do things i don't enjoy, and would otherwise not do. large gatherings (otherwise known as "parties") for example. i hate 'em, i'm no good at them. i'm a terrible wallflower, i have not much of interest to say to anyone, especially when i don't really know them. i'm - uh - shy.

i know this doesn't make him happy. it doesn't make me happy, either. so there we both are, not happy. and yet, we do make each other happy overall.

can he make me enjoy myself? no, but he can make me fake it. he doesn't like the faking it, either, though.

i suppose all property has it's limitations. you can't make a laundry machine cook your dinner, and you can't make your car be a nanny.

another reason i can't be at the other side of the dynamic, an owner, a dominant, a top, even, anymore. i don't understand what to do with someone else's limitations. is it trainable? forceable? i suppose somehow it's brainwash-able - to force me to somehow enjoy something i don't otherwise.

thinking about all this, in it's own ironic way, makes me happy though.

down

it's a complicated place to be, with your head hanging low over a low bowl.

i should have known, when you brought one fork, one plate, one glass of wine. i should have known that my head would spin. in a fog, i had a half thought of what kind of pet you thought i might be until i realized that i was only myself. a pet. an animal fed from your hand, gazing at you in hope and hunger.

and you fed me from your fingers, until the hunger became something else, and then you fed that, too.

all the time since i have only felt at home at your feet, leashed by your side. my human skin only holds the animal you keep.

color me humiliated.

i talk a good game. i talk a lot about objectification, humiliation, extreme edge play, the down-n'-dirty stuff. since the age of - what - 8? - i've clung to these fantasies, and they're not leaving any time soon. i clamped them down like bile for many years and it's only recently that i've not only acknowledged the breadth of them, but have walked through my own rings of fire to live them out. i've said it before, and i'll say it again - it's not an easy path, but it's mine.

anyway.

it's one thing to fantasize about things, imagine them happening, the nuances of the voices involved and the imagined positions and results. i'd become used to the habit of getting to sleep by letting my "fingers do the walking", the easiest way to a good night's sleep as far as i was concerned.

but this last thing just takes me down. down. it came at me sideways, unexpectedly, and it seems like such a minor thing compared to so many others i've lived out (through). my owner has taken to reaping (raping) the benefits of my brand-spankin'-new cell phone with digital camera application. all day i've been snapping away at my private parts in embarassing positions. i'm a horrible photographer, and after the first one tried to add some footnotes about how it's a bad picture and i'm sorry for that, the aesthetics suck, but at least there's the humiliation side benefit. he said,

"that's the point, cunt, not the side benefit."

surprise, surprise

i'm often the recipient of unexpected, abrupt changes. my owner is the master of the sudden choke-hold, the smile-to-slap, the tone change from laughter to coldness. i've learned that assuming anything is dangerous, so in a way, i suppose i'm always on my guard with him.

that makes it sound negative, which it isn't. it actually serves to keep me motivated, correct. which doesn't always succeed (i'm human, and by my nature, imperfect), but i love knowing that i don't know when he'll do anything. some events i've been completely unprepared for - for some, this might instill a level of distrust about what could happen, but for me it rather instills a sense that while the activity might be less obvious, i always need to be prepared for, well, anything.

he's always been like this. since day one. i think he enjoys the inevitable look of shock on my face, because it still happens despite my preparation, again and again. and i gotta say, i'm never bored.

some girls want chocolates and sweet whispered nothings. i like face slaps and being an owned cunt. i'm getting what i want, despite the fact that it's not the priority. there you have it. i've never been happier.

suffer, bitch. an analysis.

[from a lovely correspondence i'm having on fetlife regarding emotional masochism.]

"What is it about this suffering that makes you fulfilled? It turns you on, so what's hot about it?"

a friend of mine who has some of the same inclinations asked me the same question just yesterday. the best i could come up with was that we (i) have eroticized victimization, on some level. i could go through my life experiences and psychology to detail why i think that's the case for me personally, but that's what it amounts to. i don't know that there's a reason for it, as much as the fact that i know when i am victimized in some fashion, my body's wiring interprets that as arousal. on a physical level, things like my heartrate increases, i start to sweat, endorphins kick off (probably an instinctive survival mode, even for difficult emotions). my body interprets those physical changes as the same thing as arousal, so i get wet. and there you have it.

my owner calls this a version of modern-day alchemy - turning a "bad" emotion (like anger or jealousy) into "good" one (arousal, or service via submission). i tend to agree. i'm not a very angry person, so i'm impressed with my own ability to transmute the badstuff into goodstuff.

i guess that also answers the "why is it healthy for you," question also. any time i can turn a negative experience into one that is at minimum a learning one, i'm all for it. the fact that it's sexually arousing is kind of icing.

...when D and i started discussing and reviewing my fantasies, especially the ones i'd held since i was a very little girl, it became obvious that suffering was a Huge Deal, a center-piece of most of them. it got to the point where it was the great white elephant in the middle of the room i refused to discuss (figuratively), until i just - acknowledged it. once i was able to say it out loud, it transmuted as well - from something shameful and bizarre to spiritualized and (this is going to sound odd) almost normalized. so yes - it does have a higher purpose - it's deeply, deeply satisfying to suffer. for both of us.

missteps and recoveries

"It's bad timing and me
We find a lot of things out this way
And there's you
A little black cloud in a dress

The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again
If this is rain let it fall on me and drown me
If these are tears let them fall

Must I paint you a picture
About the way that I feel
You know my love for you is strong, girl
You know my love for you is real

It took a short walk and a talk
To change the rules of engagement
While you searched frantically for reverse
and them claiming
That virtue never tested is no virtue at all
And so I lost my ignorance
And now the bells across the river chime out your name
I look across to them again

All your friends said come down
It will never fly
And on that imperfect day
We threw it all away
Crisis after crisis, with such intensity
This would never happen if we lived by the sea

Most important decisions in life
Are made between two people in bed
I found that out at my expense
And when I see you
You just turn around and walk away like we never met
Oh we used to be so brave
I dreamt the world stopped turning as we climbed the hill
I dreamt impossible dreams that we were lovers still

Must I paint you a picture
About the way that I feel
You know my love for you is strong, girl
You know my love for you is real..."

-Billy Bragg

YKINOK

most of life is compartmentalizing. before or after. old or young. pretty or ugly. vanilla or kinky.

good or bad.

one of the inherent differences in western philosophy as opposed to eastern philosophy is the concept of opposite things having different values. things that are "good" have a high value, and things that are "bad" have a low value. eastern philosophy as i understand it doesn't necessarily make that valuation - it's more about understanding that opposites exist, and that one has no more value than the other.

in the last few weeks, i've written some things that have caused controversy. not surprisingly (to myself, and anyone who knows me personally) this was surprising to me. i come at issues and topics of discussion fairly neutrally, from an "eastern" perspective: both sides of the discussion are neither high- or low-value (since that's really only relative to each other) but being unaware of all the facets of the issue and/or ones' own self is the lower valued perspective to me.

okay, i'm getting to the kinky part ("finally," you're thinking.)

when i started playing publicly, and acknowledging more about myself and the life i wanted to lead, the community i was in had a term called "YKINOK": "Your Kink Is Not Okay". when people used this term, it was usually meant derogatorily, against someone who was making a value judgement when they had no leg to stand on. "calling the kettle black," kind of thing.

there are so many different ways of playing that don't work for me: puppy play, sensual eroticism, religious role play, mummification, scat play, incest role play. finding someone who likes (mostly) the same things i do is obviously high on my list - matching up sexual chemistry is pretty damned important to someone who's lifestyle is based on sexuality. i'm lucky in this regard - i've made zero compromises with my owner about what works and what doesn't (although that's a larger conversation), and i like to think the same is true for him.

your kink is just fine with me. and while this would, literarily speaking, be the place for me to say something like "so please be respectful of mine," i'm not going to say that. because you're right;

i don't care what you think.

study this one [note to self and others].

what pixie has to say about submission, love, polyamory, and sacrifice. here.

and to what end?

every once in a while, i get to be someone's sounding board. i've been involved in bdsm most of my adult life, so i've seen quite a bit - a lot of relationships that succeeded, and a lot of them that failed, including a few of my own. a friend was discussing some negotiation points with me, and we came up with a good way to discern what was going on-

is your goal in this relationship *in*dependence, or dependence?

i've come along far enough on my path to see the value of the latter. i didn't always. i don't remember a time before this that i could imagine that a goal of a relationship was dependence on someone else. it goes against the grain of what we're taught to be as children - seeking our strength from within, rather than external. i've been around unhealthy codependent people enough to understand how dependency on another person can go horribly, horribly wrong.

we talk a lot in the bdsm community about how the best of D/s relationships are meant to foster a strength in the submissive/slave (as well as the D/M, but i guess that's implied in the dynamic). during my contracted D/s relationship with D, there was always the background knowledge that at the conclusion of the contract, i was hoping to be stronger, more independent, more self-reliant than when i started.

i wasn't.

in fact, while the goal (maybe not one i mentioned to him, but oh well) was independence, the complete opposite happened: a shocking dependency on his input, decision-making, authority, approval, happiness, or discipline.

and yet, here i am - stronger and happier. and dependent.

everyday erotic

i was trapped behind the stove. on my butt, wrangling my feet around the ancient claw feet of the old-fashioned gas burning monster he insists is the right way to go, swatting at the dust mountains stuck back there. there was no way in hell i was going to be allowed to get out until it was cleaned out, and to his satisfaction. which was no easy task.

it was, dare i say, immensely gratifying.

we were also having a halfway conversation about "the olden days" [of slavery], and how the olden days Master was most likely out toiling in the fields with his property, or getting shooed out of his own kitchen by the same. most owners during legalized slavery in the united states sure as hell didn't have ginormous estates on which they sat sipping mint juleps on the veranda all day. the fantasy version of Master/slave relationships, the ones that involve chains and ball gags and vibrators, while certainly valid in their own personal way, are in no way similar to the daily functioning of a Master/slave relationship of the civil-war era. nope.

but there we were, re-enacting a scene that was probably happening right around then: property assigned kitchen duties involving a nasty cleanout of old-farmhouse grime in the kitchen while owner chops and hauls wood so neither of us freezes that night in said farmhouse.

and it was hot.

knowing that it's his choice, that i am serving him, that no matter how gross i find the gunk stuck to the floor, i will be finishing this task to his satisfaction. eroticizing the every day, the mundane, makes all of the minutia seem - worthwhile. pointed. and - erotic. that's what makes all of this different from the "olden days". i can't say it's something i "consent" to - because how do you consent to something that is in your very nature? it's like saying - oh, i suppose i'll be blonde. i suppose i'll be submissive now.


(photo credit: i have no idea. but wow - i didn't realize there even *is* a kitchen fetish. is she fucking the faucet? i can't tell.)

what happened

his disappointment in me flecks away pieces of my self. i scramble around trying to pick them back up and put them back in place the way he wants them.

waffle

when i try to rationalize something because i am told to make sense of it, absorb it, become it, and it is not easy, i feel stretched between two polar opposites. physically. until i snap towards the right pole, the one of obedience.

i don't always agree with everything my owner says. whether it's about me, someone else, something i'm told to do, a perspective, whatever. as much as i like to de-humanize and objectify and reduce my sense of self, i can't obliterate it completely, because i am, after all, a human. not a cow, or a table, or a smiling robot. i don't harbor resentment about these things, but it's at these times, in these particularly difficult moments, that i resort to my submission, my obligations, as a reason.

something that might normally cause me unhappiness and displeasure and even occasional wretchedness turns into a success story, because i can overcome it and call it submission. i have a *reason* for doing it, for muddling through things that make me unhappy. there's no rationalization for that, really. other than i've become habitualized to know that obeying, submitting, ultimately has a reward of happiness in and of itself at the end.

maybe that's what it's like to have faith in god.

okay, i'm also running a high fever, so if this is a bit delirious, i apologize. all i'm trying to say is that i gotta do something i'm not thrilled about doing, and if i wasn't obligated to make him happy and keep things smoothed out, i'd object. i haven't even brought it up, because i know it's pointless - and that's ok. which i find surprising, even to a hard core s-type like myself.

The Big O

O words i am now very conscious of: opportunity. owner. orgasm. oreo cookie. obedience.

submissives/slaves tend to think about the transitions between states. when one is completely in sub mode versus when they are - not. in my relationship, this translates more as tone than submission - i am always his property, that doesn't change. what changes is the formal/less formal way i behave. more often than not, i follow his lead regarding the tone of the moment when i need to determine how to behave. i can tell by the look on his face, the things he says (or doesn't say) whether or not i'm on the right track. occasionally i get a slap (literal and/or figurative) for not picking up on the correct tone, but i try.

i'm conscious that i've been getting a lot of opportunities lately for things i don't normally get to have. my owner is busy, and feeling somewhat beneficent, i think, and i'm not complaining. but in discussing this recently, i realized that while for the most part he doesn't change his mindset or tone particularly, and i'm the one that follows along with the "adjustment", this is the one area where the opposite happens.

whatever he gives me - cruelty, rewards, distance, affection, tokens or restrictions, i take them gladly. whatever his motivations (and i love hearing about his reasons, although i don't always get to hear them) i'm just the recipient of his choices, his mindset. luckily for both of us, all of the things he gives me i'm grateful for. i don't change my behavior towards what he gives me depending on what it is. if he struggles with whether he's being cruel enough or caring enough or honest enough, those are struggles i can't assist with, other than hearing them out if he chooses to share.

but i will always take what he gives me and be grateful for it. it's just how it is.

the skin we're in

i'm on a mission.

the last nine months or so has seen a general change in the way i look. my hair color, my weight, my wardrobe. little things, and big ones. some a return to what i used to be like, and some a brand new thing.

the life i live now doesn't really prioritize my looks. i'm not a partier, a dater, or a social butterfly - in general, my "look" is characterized by the words "cute" or "nerdy". i could sit here and say "the beauty inside is what matters," blah blah blah, but really it's just because i'm mostly lazy about the way i look, and if it's generally acceptable, i don't waste more time on it.

okay, so now that's starting to change. the drama of it isn't in the list of items i've recently acquired, but in the realization that while no specific directions have been given (well, not exactly) i've slowly been turned around in a circle towards the mirror and made changes. i thought i was doing this on my own. interesting to me, because for the last nine months or so, i have not been on my own. ever.