Wanted . . online sadist.

So, I was browsing some profiles on a BDSM site today and I came across a profile where someone had detailed in their profile "Wanted . . .online sadist"

Now, before we go further lets just look at the  dictionary definition of sadism . . .

sa·dism n.

1. The deriving of sexual gratification or the tendency to derive sexual gratification from inflicting pain or emotional abuse on others.

2. The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from cruelty.

3. Extreme cruelty.

Now for me, my sadism, the very strong at times sadistic streak or the "beast" which often lies in wait to be let out could never be gratified by being an "online sadist". Actually, is it even possible for someone to be an "online sadist"?  Those sadistic needs of mine, the beast within, could never be fulfilled or quietened by anything "online" full stop.

Now, yes I derive pleasure from hurting another. 

I do.

I have no reason to hide that fact, nor do I want to. 

I have a sadistic need.

There are things about being sadistic, about sadistic acts, about sadism in general that meets the needs that I have. 

I want it. I need it. I love it.

It isn't about causing harm, (and I'm not going to get into the debate or thoughts of it being "abuse"). It is about causing hurt. It is about inflicting pain.  My own sadistic need reacts in different ways to different people.  At times it can be something that just lies quietly beneath the surface, that I do not feel drawn to hurting that person, but at others it can be like a raging beast, and the need to then hurt becomes considerable.

It fulfils a need that I have within me. 

Sometimes it is sexually related in that yes, hurting another turns me on, it makes me wet, it arouses me. Seeing another in pain, taking that pain, crying from pain, or having their own masochistic needs met matches those of my own sadistic needs. However, I also derive a non sexual gratification from inflicting that pain, in that it fulfills in an emotional or "mental" way. 

But the important word here in all of this in terms of the sadism and sadistic needs is INFLICTING.

My need is met by the physical infliction, by carrying out the inflicting the pain physically myself, by carrying out the act itself.  Not telling someone else to do it, not telling someone to do it to themselves but ME doing it. Me hurting. Me causing that pain.

Now, I know that my needs, sexual, mental, emotional or otherwise as a sadist could never be met "online".  Is it possible to be an "online sadist" . . .I guess anything is possible if that is what they want to label themselves as. At the end of the day, labels only carry any meaning to the person themselves as they mean so many different things to many people. 



Bad Boy Gets a Birching by Alphonse Friaux

 But to me, being sadistic, having the sadistic needs met, this (to me and for me) means physically inflicting that pain, whether it be by hand, crop, whip or clamp, it is about physically carrying out the act and physically hurting the other person.  

Not me telling them to do it. Not watching someone else do it (although at times I can find it sexually arousing watching someone inflict pain on another)

I know that for me, I could never find any gratification in telling someone on the other side of a computer screen to hurt themselves. 

In that, they are just then following orders, but their mind will also prevent them from inflicting a pain beyond a level they control. As part of my sadism, comes the need to control, to control the act, to control the situation, to control the level of pain that is inflicted.

Yes I can understand how someone telling another person to inflict pain touches part of the sadistic need, after all someone is feeling pain, but you are not physically inflicting it, you are not yourself as the sadist inflicting that pain, so the gratification being derived from that will never ever come close to physically wielding the whip or whatever implement or "hitty" thing that you want to use.

Of course from a distance you can inflict emotional sadism, and this is a completely different ballgame altogether.  In fact, emotional sadism and emotional masochism are not a game to be taken lightly, in fact, it isn't a "game" to play at, at all in all honesty. 

It is something that can have very detrimental and negative responses if not "used" correctly.  Stepping into the arena of emotional masochism is certainly never something someone should ever take lightly, (I will write about that another time as it is something that interests me and has interested me for a long time) but, for me, the sadistic need is fulfilled by inflicting that pain, by causing that pain, by witnessing the reactions of the person I am hurting.  I want to see their pain, feel their pain, I want to see the look on their face, the expressions from their eyes, I want to hear their cries, hear the screams, I want to see the tears that fall and I want to be able to hold them after it all.

That is something that can never be felt "online", that just cannot be done "online". 

Now there is a place for some, for these "online" whatevers . . .but, they just are not, nor can they ever be, the same as reality, the same as they are if you step out from behind that screen and do it "for real" . . . from either side.

They don't compare.  They are different.  Different situations, different relationships, different dynamics to meet different needs.

I'm not saying that the way my needs are met is right or wrong, that the way "online" peoples needs are met are right or wrong.  I am saying what works for me, what doesn't work for me . . .what is right for me.

Now, before everyone "jumps" I am quite aware that some people have their needs met or can only extend to something "online", that for some it is all that they want to "explore", it is often how they dip their toes into the world of BDSM, how they find an understanding and how they learn, we can all get something from online resources, but in terms of "dynamics", in terms of anything else if that works for them fine . . . but for me, no. It doesn't. It isn't reality. 

I am not saying those who get their gratification online are wrong, that my way is better than theirs.  I am not saying anything is superior to the other.   What works for you fine.  But, it does piss me off when people try to compare.

They don't compare. They couldn't ever compare.  How can they? They are very different, so very different

And so an. . "online sadist" ?

Not me. Not now.

Not ever.







.

Frisky . . .and pass out!

No. 

Not feeling frisky and then passing out.  Although based on some of the past entries of my blog anyone could be forgiven for thinking along those lines . . .but no. I am not referring to that at all.

I am referring to a charity concert that my mini man (my son) and I went to last night to see Tinie Tempah and Jessie J.  His type of music, my knowledge of it really only being due to the amount of times TT particularly is played in  the car on the cd player, although I have to say, I do like TT and a lot of his music and it's great music to drive to!

But, I have to say, what an absolutely fantastic concert this was . . .and I mean FANTASTIC! 

Jessie J, really surprised me with how well she can actually sing, and as to Tinie Tempah, well he was just fab! 

We had a great seat, a great view, although if you are reading this and are one of the two very miserable women sat in the row behind us who didn't get up out of their seat once, who hardly moved at all, I am making absolutely NO apology for us having a good time and standing up either.  And, if you think "tutting" because someone is having a good time and it is going to make them stop, you really have a lot to learn. 

If you really want to go to a concert where you simply sit and do nothing, go and see some orchestra play Handel's Water music or something . . . bearing in mind where the concert was, perhaps that is what they were turning up expecting to see!!! But for christ's sake, don't be so bloody miserable!

Anyway, I don't understand people who go to such events and sit there as if they are watching paint dry.  If it's not your thing . ..WHY GO?  If you are just going to sit there like wet lemons, don't then try and spoil it for those around you who are having a good time . . .

But, there was something about last nights concert which really makes you think. 

Jessie J certainly wears some rather appealing items, and last night she was in a rather tight fitting semi corset, with the most fabulous shoes (but rather scarey patterned tights!) 

She does tend to go for some rather fab outfits . . .and she just has the most fabulous legs for some long length leather boots, just like in the pic to the left.

Anyway, she surprised me with how well she performed, even stopping a song when she thought it was slightly out of tune.  She is definitely someone I would go and see again if I had the chance.  Am already making plans to get tickets for the Tinie Tempah tour later this year to take mini man again too . . .

Anyway, the concert that we attended in London last night was in aid of the Teenage Cancer Trust, raising money to build specialised units within hospitals for those teenagers and young adults who are battling cancer and to enable them to still be teenagers. 

Before Tinie Tempah took to the stage and had the whole place pumping, we watched a film about a 21 year old girl called Kayleigh.  A 21 year old battling a brain tumour which had taken over 1/4 of her brain.  She got married in February, but then came onto the stage to say how important the work of the trust had been.  It is one of those situations that makes you think, REALLY think.  To be thankful for all that we have in life.

It was also something that really hit home with me too, it is approaching the anniversary of the death of my mum, who passed away 2 years ago in April from lung cancer.  It is something that touches but also devastates the lives of many.  But this girl, said that she had a picture by her bathroom mirror which said live your life as if each day was your last because you never know what is around the corner.

It is often hard to understand how those facing so much in their own lives, in such trying and difficult circumstances can be so positive and inspirational.  There were many people shedding a tear for this girl and the others in the film, the things that are faced by those young and old.  It goes to show that no-one is exempt from such an awful disease.

She came onto the stage with her dad, and you could see how incredibly proud he was of his daughter, you could quite clearly see the unconditional love and support that they giave to each other.  As a parent I cannot imagine how it would feel if my mini man were to face such things, if we were to face such things (although we did face such a scare when he was younger and it was the hardest 9 weeks of our lives!) but I am so blessed to have such a wonderful son in my life and for that I am and will be forever thankful.  If nothing else, I know that I am lucky and blessed to know what it is like to be a mother.  My mini man, has really taught me the meaning of what real love truly is.

Just things such as this, really put life into perspective, of how the things that we often face aren't such a challenge at all, the things that we may complain about, aren't really worth complaining about. 


But they also make you take stock of the things that you do have, but also those things that are missing. Although, for those who have suffered a loss of a close friend or loved one, you know that it doesn't take things such as this to bring them to mind ~ for me it never does.

"Sliding Doors"

In recent days, I have reconnected, albeit quite unexpectedly, with someone who I first came into contact with some considerable years ago.  It is strange how life goes at times, but, it was a wonderful surprise to see them once again. .

Things may well have been very different had we both been at different stages within our own lives. When I think about it, it actually reminds me of that film Sliding Doors with Gwyneth Paltrow.

In the film, the plot splits into two parallel universes based on the two paths of the main characters livesThat  all depending on whether she catches a particular train or not. 

It shows, how a split second can change the way life goes or how just one thing can have lead to very different outcomes.  How something so simple as missing a train (or catching it) can have so very different outcomes all because of a split second in timing . . . this is something that happens throughout the film with different situations.

Something that happens with us in life.

In brief, in one of the timelines where she catches the train she meets John. 

He is played by the rather yummy John Hannah (and cos its my blog and cos he is rather sexy here's an extra pic lol)

Anyway . . .back to the story, she gets the train and meets John, but gets home in time to find her boyfriend in bed with his ex girlfriend.  In the timeline where she misses the train she goes to get a taxi, but someone tries to snatch her handbag and by the time she gets home the ex girlfriend of her boyfriend has already left.  The film shows the different timelines throughout, the things that happen, or the things that could have happened if she had caught or missed the train.

Life is very often like this.  So many things of when we go through life which could have been different . . ."if only . . ."

And this is very much the case with this person and I.

I have often wondered whether the path may have been different for us had we met in a different way, a different time, if we hadn't of lost contact . . .

We first met sharing an extended coach journey from the town where I live into London, he had missed the earlier coach and waited for the next one which I had a ticket on.  We sat across from each other and from there we became friends, keeping in touch long beyond the journey. A journey which was normally 3 hours was almost double that after we got caught up in a road accident on the M4.  As such, we spent all that time talking to each other, we ate together, we even slept together (even if it was on each others shoulder lol)

We wouldn't have met if he had managed to get the coach he should have done, we wouldn't have met if I wasn't heading to London a day earlier than planned.  But, we stayed in touch in the times that followed until through circumstances beyond us both, we lost touch.

His life was very much a case of "sliding doors", the day his wife had a bad headache which she never suffered from but came home early.  The day that he had finished a meeting early so headed home to take advantage of having the house to himself before his wife came home from work . . .or so he thought.  Instead she arrived home to find him walking round the house completely naked apart from a collar around his neck and wearing a pair of lace and silk french knickers, his erect cock clearly standing out through the softness of the material.

If only his meeting hadn't finished early. If only his wife hadn't of had a headache. If only he had gone back to the office. . . .if only . . .if only . . .it really was a case of how different things could have been. His own case of "sliding doors"

We became friends before this "incident" in his life, and we hadn't really shared the part of ourselves that reflects his submissive tendencies and needs or indeed my own dominant ones.  There was always an undercurrent, something bubbling under the surface.  There were things that drew me to him and indeed him to me, but our paths really crossed at a time in life that wasn't the greatest for either of us.  We talked about "surface" needs, desires. We sometimes talked about things of a sexual nature, fantasies even, but even then always hesitant to share the depths.

I remember the day that he called me, after several months of no contact, saying his life was a mess, that something had happened and he didn't know what to do.  That he hadn't known what to do and that he had been plunged into the darkest of places during recent months but he was struggling and needed someone to talk to.

He had come round that evening.  But couldn't tell me of the thing that had ultimately led to his situation.  He was afraid that I would react in the same way his wife had done.  All he could tell me was that she didn't understand him, something I've heard so many times over the years.

I had all sorts of images and scenarios going through my mind, and the way my mind works it really went down to the depths of depravity.  But we had talked, he had cried.  He said he feared I wouldn't understand him either.

He finally found the words to tell me about what had happened on that day.  Him being at home, his wife coming home. What she discovered and what she had said.  His wife however had been certainly shocked at her findings. She couldn't accept it, nor find an understanding of it, instead she ended their marriage there and then. No discussion. No real attempts at conversation. No attempts at understanding or resolution.

He was sick, perverted, disgusting and everything either side of that and in between. Recriminations, accusations and never ending put downs from his partner left him feeling destroyed, feeling ashamed of the things that he had kept hidden but which were the natural longings, desires and fantasies that he craved.  He had faced the inner turmoil of all of this in silence during the years, a need kept hidden and buried. No outlet, no release and no-one he could talk to.

He had been off work ill through the stress of the subsequent break up.

It took a long time for him to get out what had happened, it took a lot of me trying to reassure him that whatever it was, that I wouldn't judge him for whatever had happened and that as friends, it wouldn't change that.  But, he had suffered so much at his wife's reaction that he feared it happening all over again.

His vulnerability was so clear to see. He certainly did wear his heart on his sleeve most of the time, his emotions were always ones he allowed out.  I will never forget when he actually told me what had happened.

I tried to reassure him it was nothing to be ashamed of, and that there were far more "shocking" things . . .and it was from this point that he shared his inner needs, his desires, his longings to submit.  And it was from this point that he became aware of my own interests, my own feelings, my need to dominate.

We talked for hours that night.

It brought us closer.

We had curled up on the sofa, his head in my lap, my hand stroking his head and hair while he talked.  It was just like someone had opened the flood gates and all of the pent up feelings and emotions and longings from the years were pouring out at a rate of knots.

I watched his reactions, I watched the pain in his eyes, I watched the desire in his eyes for the things that he longed for.  And I wanted him to know that there wasn't anything wrong with him, that he wasn't wrong, that his feelings weren't wrong.  He struggled with what people would think if they knew.  He struggled with his own feelings of shame, the feelings that he wasn't "normal", that he was all the things he wife had called him.

"I want to do something for you, will you trust me and allow me to?" I had asked him long into the night.

He hesitated. But nodded his head. He was unsure, you could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of the unknown.

I had stood up, gave him my hand and helped him to stand too.  I told him to stand in the middle of the living room and close his eyes while I went to get something.  He hesitantly closed his eyes and I stood watching him like that for a few minutes.  His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and I could tell he was nervous, but I could also see that his cock was twitching and hardening inside his trousers.  His arousal from the fear, from the unknown, from the whole situation was arousing to him.  His reactions touched me, hit me hard.  Filled me with my own feelings of arousal, of sadism, of everything that being who I am brings to me.

I had left him there, gone to the bedroom and returned with a pair of white lace panties.  I knew they would be tight on him, but this was what I wanted.  This was what he needed.

I had stood behind him.  Took his hand and placed the panties into his hand. "Open your eyes and put these on" I had whispered into his ear.

His face filled with confusion at first, a mixture of his eyes adjusting to the light and seeing what I had given to him and what I was asking of him, from him.

"I . . I . . can't" he had responded shaking his head. His bottom lip quivering. His face dropped.

He cried.

He held his hands to his face clutching the knickers and cried.  Deep body wrenching sobs.  He had tried to say something but everytime he did the words wouldn't come out, only gasps and tears.  He looked like a lost child, who had been given something that he had always longed for but then didn't know what to do.  I comforted him while he cried until he had stopped.

I looked at him.

"It's ok if you can't"

"I . . I . . can't"

"Of course you can . . .if you want to.  Only if you want to."

"But . . .but . . .I can't . . ."

"Yes you can.  You want to wear them don't you"

He nodded.

"It is something that you want to do, so you can."

There was an internal battle raging in his mind, the arousal battle was being won however by his hardening cock.  I had reached down at that moment, trailing the end of my nails over his hardening self. He had gasped, becoming aware of his own state of arousal.

"You see . . .it is ok to feel this way. It is ok to want it. It is ok to need it.  Not everyone will run. Not everyone will think it is disgusting, that you are disgusting.  You aren't. You just need it."

He turned to walk away from me, the panties tightly clutched in his hand.

"Put them on here. Take off your clothes and put them on here"

"I . . .I  . . .can't"

"Yes you can. Of course you can.  Be a good boy and put them on. You know that you want to, need to."

He stood there.

His cheeks beginning to burn from the humiliation he was feeling at my asking him to undress before me, this wasn't something that we had shared in the time we had been friends no matter how close we had been.  And god he looked so afraid, and so vulnerable and so lost, lost but longing.  I felt my own sex twitch in arousal at his predicament, I could feel my own wetness growing by the second. My own feelings, my own body reacting to the battle he was facing . . .albeit a battle I knew he would ultimately win.

I knew that he could. . . I knew that he would. 

He just needed the permission to do it. To know it was ok.

He slowly undid the belt on his trousers and allowed them to drop to the floor.

He was shaking at this point, a mixture of nerves, arousal, excitement, longing, fear. I had taken his hand and helped him to step out of them, he bent down, picked them up and held them out to me as if he was presenting them to me.  I took them and placed them over the back of the chair.

Helping him out of his boxers.  He was only semi naked, but he was trying to hide his cock that was already hard and erect.

"It's ok, you don't need to hide"

Instead I had reached up, undone the buttons on his shirt and he had stood there allowing me to undress him.  I did so slowly, making sure he was ok with what I was doing.  He couldn't speak. His mouth was dry, his breathing long, slow, laboured.  I gently ran my fingers down the length of his arm.

"Put them on for me"

I know that he was struggling with this part because of the reaction he had received from his wife.  The fact that this was the first time he would have worn anything like this in front of someone else.  I know that he feared that I would judge him, that I would think less of him.  I didn't. Far far from it.

He slowly bent forward and placed each leg into the panties. And hesitated before pulling them up.

"Come on, you're nearly there.  It's ok"

I had touched his skin at that time and he shivered, his cock stood to attention even more so.  He had laughed at that point and said that he didn't know how he would get them on with his cock so hard.

"That's ok.  We can force it in I'm sure." and I laughed gently.

There was a drop of precum on the end of his cock, I touched it with my finger and took it up to his mouth, pushing my fingers in between his lips, he recoiled at first with the shock of it, the taste of it, but then hungrily sucked on my finger. 

I reached down at that point with my other hand and began masturbating his already hard cock, reaching between his legs to feel his heavy and laden balls.

"Put them on"

I stopped what I was doing and stood away from him.  Watching him as he slowly bent down and pulled up the lace panties over his erect cock.  When  he had managed to get them on, and his cock arranged behind the lace, he was bulging out of them more by the minute.  But I will never forget that look as he felt at home.  That he felt accepted.

"There we go. It wasn't that hard now was it . . .unlike you" I had smiled at him.

He had blushed and lowered his gaze.

"How do you feel?"

"I . . .I . . .I can't describe how I feel.  I cannot express how I feel"

It was clear from his reactions that there were emotions of varying degrees and strengths coursing through his body.  He shed another few tears from relief. From the release he was feeling.  I had comforted him, held him, accepted him.

Those lace panties were the first pair he had not had to buy himself, the first pair he had been given, that he had been gifted.  They were the pair that in many ways signified his desires and longings and that he was accepted for those.

I had massaged his cock through the lace and satin, he hardened even more, the lace being stretched to its full capacity.

"My god . . .I need to cum. Please may I cum" He had whispered.

"Yes of course you may"

He hadn't needed to ask.

I hadn't needed to give permission.

But sometimes these things are just "right" they just "fit".  And I reached down and continued to touch his cock through the lace, rubbing, playing, teasing, wanking him.

And he came.

The hot liquid spurting from his cock and through the satin and lace panties.  He had commented on the mess he had made.  And after he had orgasmed he looked at me with a look that said "please tell me I am ok"

"It's ok. It really is ok. YOU are ok."

And we had gone back to where we had been a time earlier, curled up on the sofa, my stroking his hair with his head in my lap, him naked apart from the pair of panties stained with his own cum.  A whole range of emotions pouring out from his body.

And that was when our own friendship changed.

He was a very intriguing person.  His need to be subservient was very clear.  He was a warm, open and deliciously kinky when he fought past the internal battles in his head which would tell him he wasn't normal.

But time passed and just as we all do, he discovered more about the type of dynamic that he wanted and needed, and my own life went down a different path.

We were friends.

Friends that had shared many things, friends who had shared so many thoughts, feelings, experiences and emotions in relation to all things BDSM and kink.

And in another "Sliding doors" moment, I realised that we wouldn't have shared that part of ourselves or had that deepening friendship if his wife hadn't found out about him, if she hadn't of come home early.  And that another moment had determined the way our lives would go . . .

Life is very strange how it works, just as it was strange how we reconnected after a couple of years.  If I hadn't of been walking down the street when he was getting out of his car our paths wouldn't have reconnected . . .

Life is full of those "Sliding door" moments.

They happen every day.

We never know how things may have been if just one thing had been different.  But, we just have to take things when they happen, in the way they happen. Cherish them for what they are, for everything they are.  We cannot live with "what if's", we cannot think of the things that may have been if only things had been different.

Things could have been different for me in lots of ways.  I've had lots of "Sliding Doors" moments, even recently.  But, such is life.

We stood there and smiled at each other when we realised we had bumped into each other again.  He said that he was going to park elsewhere but just by chance came down this road and found a space . .

Just by chance . . .a chance that would have been gone a moment or a second later. When I would have carried on down the road and we wouldn't have reconnected.  That he would have parked elsewhere and we would have continued being old friends but no longer in touch.

Life moves in mysterious ways at times.  I do not subscribe to the thought that things happen for a reason, they just happen. They just do.  But it is amazing to think just how different things can be . . .could be . . .even if something slightly different was to happen.

"I still have them." He grinned as he looked at me.  I knew he was referring to that pair of lace panties.

"I'm sure you still look good in them" I had replied. He blushed.  I smiled. His reaction hit me like a bowling ball knocking over the pins.

"Maybe I can show you some time" he said as he took a step towards me and kissed my cheek.  His hair with a splattering of grey. I breathed in his smell.

"Maybe JoJo. Maybe."

"It's been a long time since I heard you call me that."

"It's been a long time since anything . . . "

"It has.  I often wonder if things had been different . . .have you?"

"Maybe JoJo.  Maybe. . ."

Long after . . .

I sit on the edge of the bed, you are knelt between my legs, looking up and just seeing you there and the longing in the depths of your eyes draw me to you like a magnet. 

And that look, that longing, makes me melt, it makes me long to touch you, feel you, kiss you, want you.  It makes me want to move closer to you, to draw you in, to reach in to your depths and bring that longing out.

Your eyes attract me, pull me, talk to me. 


And I want to touch you, here, there, everywhere. 

And my eyes wander over the curves of your face, your chin, your mouth.  And my mouth follows that same path.

And we're kissing.

And our lips are touching, my tongue forcing them apart and I pull away and look into your eyes.

I can't help but smile.

My lips hold your lips, my mouth holds your mouth, my eyes hold your eyes, for moments long after we have pulled away.

 

self analysis

Millions of people never analyze themselves. Mentally they are mechanical products of the factory of their environment, preoccupied with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, working and sleeping, and going here and there to be entertained. They don’t know what or why they are seeking, nor why they never realize complete happiness and lasting satisfaction. By evading self-analysis, people go on being robots, conditioned by their environment. True self-analysis is the greatest art of progress."


Paramahansa Yogananda 

self-analysis - noun.

An independent methodical attempt to study and comprehend one's own personality, emotions and behaviour

One thing I have done through the years is a lot of self-analysis.  I have scrutinised, delved, studied, learnt, and most certainly found a comprehension of myself. My personality. My emotions. My behaviour. But also my wants. My needs. My desires.  My strengths. My weaknesses (being dominant doesn't stop us having them either!).

Probably the most in-depth analysis was when I first came across the "lifestyle" and had my lightbulb moment (something I've blogged about previously here).  Finding out new things about myself which had always been there, an awareness of things that I hadn't been aware of previously.  And in such I began to learn all about the person I am, the personality, the wants, needs, desires, and the more I have learned, the deeper I have delved, and in turn, the greater the knowledge but the deeper the understanding has been.

In doing such self analysis I have been able to find a true understanding of my inner self, a real insight which has granted me an acceptance of myself and who and what I am, of the things that I want, seek, or more so need to bring that complete happiness and lasting satisfaction.

That disection and recognition of "me" ultimately has enabled me to accept everything about the person I am, even when those things go against societal expectations or the societal "norm".  It can be hard when we learn things about ourselves which make us different, especially if it is something that others look down upon or are likely to judge.  We can often fight against things that we learn, thinking that it is wrong, or we are wrong or that we will be thought of differently by those close to us.

I related a lot to the quote when I first read it. Because in my opinion, such scrutiny does enable us to discover ourselves and it is with this knowledge that we can take positive steps to find all that we want.  But it also enables us to know what we do not want, and I strongly believe that is just as important.

It means that we then don't ultimately waste our time working towards something that isn't what we want or accepting something "just because". Life is too short to be wasted on something which doesn't fulfil us.  But there will always be things that we may have to compromise on, but knowing ourselves, analysing ourselves enables us to be able to know what those things are.

I have things that I will NOT compromise on at all.  I have things that I desire, want or need. And as such, if something doesn't meet those then I don't compromise.

What is the point?

A submissive friend of mine through the years has been within relationships which has only met some needs, and ultimately many have been left unfulfilled and unsatisfied.  They have been left feeling incomplete and certainly haven't found the happiness that is wanted or longed for.  But so much has come from them not truly knowing themselves, their wants or needs, not having a knowledge or understanding of them. Because they dont know what they want, they don't know how to even begin to find fulfilment.  This often leads, as it has done for them, to accepting second best, settling for something less than what is wanted.  Often this is with the thought of "something is better than nothing", but, is it?

Not in my opinion. Not for me it isn't.

But some, choose to amble along, finding things out as they go, but then go on a drawn out journey which takes them in directions that they do not want to travel, having to go through things they do not want to, accepting things that seem ok, but aren't right simply because they don't truly know what is wanted or needed.  This can lead to a lot of unhappiness, a lot of unfulfilment, a lot of wasted time.

This friend is now in therapy, going through the steps of self analysis to break the circle that they have found themselves in, in the hope that by being insightful, in knowing themselves, their wants, needs and desires that it will lead them on a much more positive path forward, not accepting things less than they want, need or desire or in fact deserve.

It isn't always easy. 

We can often be our hardest critics. 

We may discover things that we do not like. Things we do not understand.  And this in turn can take and need more self analysis, more delving into our innerselves.  As the quote suggests, it is progress . . .but its a work in progress.  We are always a work in progress.

Sometimes we find things that we cannot understand, we may not know why it exists, we may think it is not really who we are.  Analysis and being able to discover these things may not always bring answers straight away, it may and can take time to do so . . .but the results of such self analysis, of knowing ourselves deeply can be positive, whether that comes upon first searching or in the future.

Self analysis helps us to know what we want, and can lead us to a path which when we walk it, is the right one for us, and helps us avoid settling or accepting for something less than we want or need.

In terms of BDSM, in terms of an FLR, in terms of D/s, in terms of kink, self analysis has helped me to find who I truly am, accepting myself for who I am. It has enabled me to know the feelings that I have and where they come from.  An understanding of my sadistic needs alongside my emotional ones.  The dominant traits along with the need for control. It has enabled me to be able to take control, of myself, of situations and of others.  It really has empowered me. It has facilitated my onward journey. It has supplied me with the understanding, with the knowledge, with the opportunity to know me better but also to give me the tools of learning others better, of understanding them, discovering them, accepting them too.

In analysing I know what I want. What I seek. What I desire. What I want. 

I know the things that will balance me.

Fulfil me.

Complete me. 

I know the things that I don't want. I know the things that do not work for me. The things I am not willing or prepared to compromise on. 

Some may say that makes me picky.

And maybe so. 

But it means that ultimately I will not spend time doing something that ultimately will not bring me happiness or fulfilment. That I will not invest into something or someone which ultimately will not work or which isn't what I want or need.

It is of course a never ending learning curve.  Life is a never ending journey of learning. Our self analysis doesn't stop, there is always something to learn, to discover, to understand.

As we move forward in different relationships, different dynamics, we come across new things, new situations, new feelings, new emotions and in turn we continue to learn more about ourselves and the analysis is an ongoing progress indeed.  But analysis gives us tools to know who we really are and that can only be a positive in securing our happiness, our fulfilment and the things that we desire.

Patient

I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end.

Margaret Thatcher





*smiles*

Beauty of a woman

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears,
The figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman must be seen from her eyes,
Because that is the doorway to her heart,
The place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole,
But true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.
It is the caring that she lovingly gives,
The passion that she shows.
The beauty of a woman
With time, only grows..


~~unknown~~

"You need a sub/slave . . . "

If I had a £ for everytime someone says to me "You need a sub or slave" I would be one very rich dominant woman. 

I hear it countless times when I mention that I am doing any number of domestic chores, when I mention that I have had to do anything from the gardening, to cleaning the car, to making a cup of tea. 

It seems that "some" believe that a sub or slave is the answer but seem locked into this fantasy thinking that Dominant women shouldn't be doing such things.  Oh if there was no such thing as "real life" as the "daily grind" then I am sure that we wouldn't be . .that I wouldn't be but . . .daily life is real, it does include the daily grind and as such it means that there are things that need doing . . .that have to be done regardless of our "persuasion", regardless of who we are.

And it maybe the case that having a houseboy, a service sub/slave would indeed make life easier, would indeed free up so much of my time that I could then focus that time on the relationship and dynamic, but it is getting to that point which is something that takes time, that takes care and isn't something which can ever be so simple as the words "you need a sub or slave"

Why is it that some, think that I shouldn't be doing these things? 

Being Dominant doesn't mean that you go through life without doing these things.

It doesn't mean that I am not capable of doing it, in fact I am more than capable of doing it all, that as a single parent I am totally used to doing it all.  It isn't a case of needing someone to do it. 

Doesn't mean to say it wouldn't be bliss not to have to do it all, doesn't mean that life wouldn't "benefit" from having a service sub, "slave" or any other title you want to give someone.  It doesn't mean that having someone to do these things wouldn't make things a whole lot easier . . .it would.

Yes I may want one. Yes I may desire one.

But do I need one for "domestic" reasons?

No. I don't need. 

Like? Desire? Yes maybe so . . .

If only it were that simple eh? 

Unfortunately, for those who live in the real world, we know all too well that it is not an easy answer, we know all too well that it isn't as easy as just "getting a sub or slave".  

I don't just want a submissive to do the ironing. I don't just want a submissive to clean the car or bring me tea in the mornings . . .the whole dynamic, the whole relationship is so much more than that, but to get to that whole much more takes time, and when you don't have a lot of time in life, it can be a viscious circle at times.

But, I know what I want.

I know what I don't. 

And yes I may need a sub.

But I need a whole lot more besides and that is what makes it less than easy, because I know that what I want isn't what many do want.  Although I read so many blogs of submissive men wishing their OH was dominant, wishing they would take on the "lead" in an FLR and it seems the submissives that I cross paths with, like the fantasy but not the reality, or do not want to take their submissive beyond the threshold of the bedroom. 

And I want and need more than that. And I want and need someone who wants and needs this just as much as I do.

Otherwise it doesn't work.

It just isn't that simple as "you need a sub".

Beginning of the end . . .

I've sat here many times these past few days, wondering what to write.

So many blogs started with a thought that has come to mind, but not the time to sit and give them the thought that I want to give them. 

I will get to them when my mind is less occupied with all that it is occupied with right now. 

There have been many things that I could ramble on about.  There are many things that at times I want to say, people I want to say them to. Some things however, should always be private. The important things, should always be private. 

But then, sometimes what is the point?

You know the saying . . ."The beginning of the end", it is a saying that will always come true. 

In the time that we meet, the journey that we make, that when it begins, it is the beginning of the end.  At times, I guess it could always make you question whether starting the beginning is ever worth it.  But, if you don't, you could miss out on so much, and that ending could be so far away.  There is nothing to say that it could be very far away, but that's the risk that we take.  If we don't take the risk then the journey that we take anyway could be so empty from how it could be.

Even though I am a realist, even though I may look further than this minute . . .this moment . . this day . . .I don't automatically think of the end, even at the beginning.  If we always looked to the end, I don't think we would ever start.

Part of us may know that one day it may come to an end, it could be now, it could be next week, it could be many years from now.  This is something that we never truly know.  But we find, we begin, we travel together . . .or at least we would or could . . . if only people were willing to take that risk, to start the beginning, even if it is the beginning of the end.

Untitled by e e cummings

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh. . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new

Reflections

Do you remember the time we sat and watched the sun go down? 

We had spent the day together.

We didn't know at that time that it would be our last.  We didn't know then that the sun wasn't just setting on the day, but it was setting on all that we had shared.

We didn't know then that the darkness at the ending of the day would be the darkness enshrouding all that we had known; all that we had shared.

There is something about "goodbyes" which make us reflect, and I remember this very moment like it were yesterday.

I can still feel the heat on my face from the warmth of the sun, the dampness of your face and hair from the heat as it passed over to the slightly cooler air of the arriving night.  I remember how it felt as I stroked your hair as it rested in my lap.

I still remember the way your eyes looked right then as you looked out and watched the boat bobbing up and down on the waves.  A million emotions and words hiding in your depths but never finding a way out to be heard.

You told me how you wished we could sail away on it, to chase the sunset so as to avoid the impending darkness. 

You looked up at me then and my heart melted once more.  And the feelings hit the pit of my stomach as you averted your gaze.  And how I wanted you then, more than ever.  And I remember the last touch of your face, the last stroke of your hair, the last kiss that we shared.  I always will.

And as we watched the coolness of the turquoise blue ocean change into a fire of reds and oranges it reflected so much of where we had come from, of where we were now and without even knowing it, where we were heading. 

The sun was not only setting in the sky, it was setting upon us too. 

Things had started so easily, the ebb and flow of the tide just like the ebb and flow of how we had been.  Reaching the highs that we felt, being plunged into the unavoidable lows.  But the fire had come.  The heat. The passion.  And oh god I couldn't believe that we wouldn't have that once more.  The depth of the feelings that left both of us breathless, wanting and needing more and more. Both needing more. 

I took these photos.  It was one of the most beautiful sunsets we had seen.  

It still is for me. 

And not just because of its beauty, not just because of its warmth. But because it was a reflection of you. A reflection of me.  A reflection of us.

So much reflection, so much to reflect upon. 

We sat there side by side. Lost in the beauty of the moment. Lost in our own thoughts and the delaying of the inevitable.  Lost in the sadness. Lost in the fear of the unknown and what was to be. 

Reflections of all that had been shared. 

A fire that we wanted to keep burning, but we had known all along that there would be a time when it would burn out on its own, that there was no more "stoking", and we had nothing to build it back up again.  We had held on until the last ember had been extinguished.

The fire of the sunset danced on the waves, we watched them as they gently lapped at the edge of the shore.  We walked along it still lost in thought, still prolonging the inevitable. 

And we both wanted so much for the sun to stay there and not to disappear behind the edge of the headland.  Afraid of the darkness that we would ourselves be plunged into when it did.

It was beautiful while it lasted.


Just like the setting of the sun.

Hurting you awake

I woke first, but with violence on my mind. 

You are sleeping next to me and I cannot tell if you are dreaming or if you're mind is empty of thought.  You look so peaceful at that moment, you're lips relaxed and I want to kiss you awake, bite you awake, sucking them in. Sucking you in. Drawing you in. 

But I lie there watching you, wanting you, wanting to devour you.

I am restless now. 

And I feel like a caged animal waiting to be fed. And the beast is stirring within. And I am waiting for you to waken. And I am waiting to be able to look into your eyes and to force my mouth down upon yours. And I know that I can do so at any time, but I love watching you sleep, and your vulnerability gets to me everytime.  And it's been so long since we've woken next to each other, so long since we have spent this time together and it makes me want you all the more.

And I want to hurt you. Now. In that moment while you are asleep.  And I want to take you and use you. And I want to hurt you and fuck you. And I want you to beg me to hurt you. And the thought of hurting you makes me so fucking wet and I am breathing heavily and the longing in the pit of my stomach feelings growls.

And the images of hurting you runs through my mind, the things that I want to do to you. Pinching your nipples, twisting them until you cry out with pain, my hand reaching into your hair forcing your head, making you do things, lick things, taste things.  And I want to sit astride you, forcing myself down onto you as you like there, moving up so my cunt is over your face, and I want to move myself over you. Marking you, feeling you, knowing you are there, and make you lick even more.

And I want to slap your face and watch as your eyes roll around with disorientation and alarm, knowing that you float away, but I bring you back, my hand gripped around your jaw as I bring you towards me and kiss you hard. And I bite on your lips, sucking them into my mouth, biting harder as I feel you wince and try to pull away.  And I want to watch you lick your lips in the way that you do when I've kissed you, and I can see that you're tasting the blood that my biting has drawn.

And I twist on your nipples as I hear you gasp, twisting them harder, digging in the tips of my nails and the longing in the pit of my stomach grows even more as I hear you gasp in the pain that you're feeling.  And I want to hurt you so badly, so much, and I want you to moan with pain and beg me to hurt you. And I know that you would do it for me.   And you did, only a few hours before.

And so I lie there watching you sleep. And I love having you next to me. Knowing that I can touch you, kiss you, hold you or hurt you whenever I want to. 

And as you begin to stir, I begin to kiss you awake. 

And as you stretch out lethargically, languidly and open your mouth to yawn, I move in to cover your mouth with mine stopping you from taking the breath.

The hurting begins.

The path . . .

“A path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you.

Look at every path closely and deliberately.

Try it as many times as you think necessary.

Then ask yourself alone, one question.

Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t it is of no use.”

Carlos Castaneda