Live . . .with the door wide open

Something happened this week, which bought to mind some words that a very good friend of mine once said to me . . .

Live.

Live for the bliss. For the fear. Live for the heartbreak. Live for the laughter and for the love and for the tears. 

Live for yourself . . . with the door wide open.

And I get that.

I do. 

But I also say, know when it is time to close the door. 

But even more so know when or if it is a good idea to allow them to re-open.

Never mind about sliding doors, this is about opening doors.  Or perhaps more so, closing doors. 

That even during difficult times, or the time out that I took, when I took a step back and a detachement from certain things, that door was always open.  There are times it may not have been wide open, but left ajar maybe, but it has always been open. 

Open to the future.

Open to whatever or who may come through the door.  Open to whatever or whoever life may bring along.

But, I am also someone who closes doors on things where it needs to be closed on.  It gives closure, the door needs to close for a reason, and I for the most part, feel that closed doors shouldn't be allowed to re-open.

So, I rarely allow them to. 

This may seem harsh.  But we close doors for a reason, upon things that have happened for a reason.  When we close them, it will have been done because there was a need to, that we had to.

So why would we re-open them, re-opening to what was or what happened before?

Something happened recently which did mean a door re-opened.  With concern yes. With hesitancy certainly.  But the door opened slightly, but that hesitancy meant it didn't nor wouldn't, nor could it ever open fully.

We should listen to the gut feelings that we have, we should listen to the hesitancy or concern that we may feel.

Something happened this week which confirmed to me, that my hesitancy in doing so, in allowing the door to re-open, was very right.  It also showed me that it is important that I do not second guess myself, that I do not doubt the decisions I have made and which have always been the right one.

My own experiences in the past have shown me the right time to close the door and also, not to allow them to re-open.

I should hold onto that and know what works for me.

It does.

So although a "sliding door" may have been opened again, it isn't just sliding shut, it has already been firmly closed.

In hindsight, maybe it should have been left that way, but hindsight is something we do not have at the time. 

Still even though a door may close, I continue to live with the door, very much wide open.




















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New York! New York!

Not that I am counting but in 29 days, the mini man and I will be in New York!  In fact, this time next month we will have arrived and be spending our first afternoon there.

Our first time visit to the city, but 2nd time to the US. 

We will be spending 5 nights in New York before flying down to Orlando and spending 10 nights in a wonderful villa with a large pool, jacuzzi and spa (I treated us to a rather nice upgrade!)

But feeling incredibly excited about visiting NYC, we have tickets to the Yankees game against Toronto Blue Jays at the Yankee Stadium, tickets to go up to the crown at Statue of Liberty, and also heading to see a show on Broadway, although heavily debating about which one it actually is going to be.

It's certainly going to be a busy 5 days in the city, am looking forward to wandering around Central Park, of venturing to the Top of the Rock, and when we are there it is also Fleet Week . . .hmmmm all those Sailors in uniform will I am sure, be rather pleasing to the eye as well as the sights that we will see.

Mini man is looking forward to dancing along the piano in FAO schwarz having seen it in the film Big as well as going on the Big Wheel inside Toys R Us in Times Square.

We have plans to do so many things, but know that we just won't get chance to fit it all in so am sure this will be the first trip of many to NYC at least.  Try to fit in some shopping . . .a girl can never have too many shoes or boots! 

It is our second trip to Orlando, and once again we will be visiting the House of the Mouse amongst many other things. 

So, the real countdown begins (although it started at over 200 days ago), and this time next month, we will have arrived in New York and venturing into a city which we are just so excited to see.

New York, here we come!

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Followers, Feedback and cock-a-leekie

"Besides fiction, she wrote pretty consistently at some form of journal--sometimes in large, hardback notebooks, occasionally on loose typed sheets, occasionally in small notebooks from which she tore the pages she wanted to save. (The rest of the notebook would be filled with drafts of poems, etc.) Her motive for keeping the journal varied. The handwritten notebook entries were generally negative, self-castigation, or a means of rallying her determination to get through something or other."

Ted Hughes on Sylvia Plath

That quote could have been written about me! I have always loved to write. To blog. Whether it be fiction, creative writing, poetry or as more often is the case a reflection on events, situations, feelings and people that have been a part of my life.  Most of what I have written as an adult has always been done privately ~ until now at least. 

In a Ds sense, this recent blog was the first time I had actually actively shared my blog with someone I was "exploring" with at the time, although I had always written my thoughts.  It can be a way of finding an understanding of thoughts, of feelings, of situations.  It can help with expression of wants, of needs, of hopes (and disappointments!)

I was reading on a blog elsewhere by another Dominant female how she finds it quite difficult to blog if she knows the person she is with or playing with reads her blog because she is unable to write about things before they have happened so as not to give anything away.  And also, finds at times that she needs to hold back when she does write about things that have happened. 

I totally understand.

Although I don't necessarily feel that way about my blogs, sharing the things that I write.  Openness is incredibly important to me, I ask it from others, it wouldn't be right of me to not be the same.  However, I too do not write about things until they have happened, whether they be in the recent or indeed distant past.  And, I know that upon reading at first, some of the things may be "shocking" to some, as well as creating a whole other range of thoughts and feelings.

I have blogged for approaching 10 years or more, and this is the first time, that I have really put my writing "out there". Not only "out there", but also open to followers and feedback and in a situation where people who read can comment.

It was a strange feeling at first, but during the months I have started this blog I have received wonderful feedback and comments, it has brought me back in touch with several people I have known and lost touch with, and it is wonderful to see some of them posting here too *smiles*

I have just logged on to some wonderful comments about my recent entries and how nice it is to welcome some new commenters ~ feeling brave were we ? ;)

But it is nice to know that you have stopped by, that you have read and also the feedback is always appreciated.  I have received comments via email, via profiles elsewhere, but very few on the blog itself, so those who have posted here or made contact . . .thank you.

It seems that a certain blog entry "sliding doors" has brought several "blast from the pasts", friends, contacts and people whose paths I have crossed with have read it, and gotten back in touch.  Guess it just goes to show that at times, others can relate to the writings and situations of other people, and that we have all had our "sliding doors" moments. 

I am sure we will all have many more.

It is strange at times, knowing that the things that I write, the personal reflections, thoughts, feelings and opinions are out there, I am quite aware that some people have been "scared" and "shocked" by some of the things that I have written.  That some have commented on how sadistic I am, of how cruel I can be, amongst other things.  And that maybe so. LOL

So welcome to new readers and followers, (around the world!)  welcome and thank you to new commenters. 

I hope that you continue to enjoy! 

The stats for my blog are interesting, (I do like that feature here at blogger!) seeing how people have found me, where they are in the world (first reader from Denmark recently too! *waves* ) ~ and it is interesting to see what people put in the search engines which lead them to my blog. 

I tell you what, people say that some of the things I write is scarey  ~ you should really see what people put in the searches which leads them to me . . .

To the person who put cock-a-leekie in the search engine and came across my  blog . . .I know you didn't find the recipe that you were looking for, but I am sure that you found plenty of things about leaking cocks or even things to make cocks leak . . .sorry it wasn't quite what you wanted and I hope what you found wasn't too much of a shock

LOL

*grins*






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Caged and . . .

"I want to fuck you"  I had whispered into his ear. 

The look of surprise on his face at my bluntness was clear to see, we had been flirting outrageously for the previous hour or so, occasionally touching each other in more than a friendly way.

At first he had seemed unsure, surprised even at the way we interacted, but then, this wasn't a situation everyone finds themselves in every day.

I stared into his eyes trying to gauge his reaction further.  Leaning forward kissing him deeply, biting on his lip before I pulled away. 

He groaned. 

You moaned. 

I kissed him again reaching down between his legs my fingers finding an already hardening cock.  And I could tell just from the brief glance I threw your way over his shoulder that you were aroused too.

You had been sat there watching me, watching him.  Watching us talk, interact, watching us as we paid no attention to you.  If you made a quiet sound trying to draw my gaze to yours we had still taken no notice.  

You heard us kiss when you had gone to the kitchen to fix us drinks and when you came back in, you'd been sent back to your place, finding us closer together.

You had watched me touch him. Watched him touch me.  You had watched him reach into my blouse and make my nipples hard.  Watching him remove the blouse and bra I had been wearing and then sucking and biting my nipples hard enough to bring me to orgasm.

"stand up and take off your trousers" I had whispered to him as I looked over his shoulder to where you were.  "I want you to fuck me, I want to be fucked in a way that he cannot fuck me" as I smiled at him, and at you.

I knew how you were feeling, I knew what you were thinking, just as you knew what I had planned and what I was going to do.  You knew that when I told him I was going to fuck him, that was exactly what would happen, maybe not yet, but it would. Only time would tell. And more so, you knew that I was going to fuck him right there, before you.

I knew how much you wanted to watch, wanted to see me with another man, watching me give pleasure to and receive it from another.

 He did as asked, standing before me.

Looking over his shoulder to where you were sat. I grinned at you, your eyes looked up towards me, and already a glazed look had clouded over them.  I could sense your arousal as well as his, but your humiliation at being there, at being ignored, at your being mine but at that moment, my being with him.

Between his slightly open legs I could see you trying to manouevre into a different position so you could see what I was doing to him, what I was going to do to him.  Except you couldn't move far, caged in the corner like a naughty puppy, you couldn't move any more than the bars and your confines would allow.  I knew you would be desperate to see me, desperate to see him.

I stood up, walked towards where you were.

And not for one moment taking my gaze away from your eyes, I picked up the blanket that was on the sofa and tossed it over the top of the cage. Plunging you into a semi darkness, plunging you into a place of not being able to see anything apart from shadows through the material, but being able to hear anything that may be said, any noise that may be heard. 

I heard your sigh.

I heard you mumble quietly under your breath, sensing your frustration before I turned and walked away. I laughed.

He was still stood where I had left him.

I walked up behind him and ran the tips of my fingernails down his back, he shivered in response, his mouth releasing a moan of arousal which I know that you would have heard too. 

Now you wouldn't know what I was doing with him, what he was doing to me, only what your imagination created or what you could grasp from the noises, from the moans and groans that escsaped our mouths for the next couple of hours while I fucked him, while he fucked me. While he bought me to orgasm after orgasm with his fingers, his mouth, his fist.

Every noise, every moan of arousal, everything that we did happening just in front of you, but your only being able to hear and not see. 

What an incredibly deeply arousing and powerful feeling, knowing that I was having and giving such pleasure right in front of you and yet you couldn't see a thing.  I loved the fact that you couldn't see it, knowing how much you longed to.  I knew this would frustrate you even more, that it would humiliate you. But knew just what and how this would make you feel too.

He left.

You were still there. Caged. Aroused. Frustrated. Humilated.

Now I wanted you.

I removed the blanket from the top of the cage, your eyes blinked quickly adjusting to the light, your cock hard, your eyes still glazed.  I pushed myself against the cage allowing you to see my wetness.

"lick me" I whispered and immediately I felt the warmth of your tongue reaching into the depths of my wetness and my arse through the cage, and while you licked.  I sat there, feeling aroused all over again, knowing that you were tasting me, tasting him and licking me where he had been only minutes before. 

With that thought I came again, my juices squirting over your face.

And before you had chance to realise what was happening I allowed myself to piss all over you, the warmth of the liquid hitting the back of your throat and making you choke from the unexpected gushing of liquid.

Your humiliation complete.  Letting you know what you are, who you are.

You were marked as mine.

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Live as you've never lived before

"Let your mind start a journey thru a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be...Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before.”


Erich Fromm

I *LOVE* this quote. 

It is one that I often think of because its meaning is so true but which makes me look forward, with anticipation and with hope.

But, it is hard to let go of the things that we've known before, even harder to take steps into the new or unknown. That unknown is filled with a fear, but a fear that in itself can create a desire. A desire for what may be, for what can be, if we only allow ourselves to.

I think we all want to live as we've never lived before . . .and life is too short to not live in the way that we want. 

My "time out" has been extended for far too long and for the first time in a long time. 

It is time to truly let things go where they need to go, to be where I want to be. 

I know that really is the right time to be truly open to whatever the future may bring, to be active in making things happen so I can live the way that I truly want to live, to live in a way that I have never lived before.  And in a depth and in a world that I know that I want but more so need to live in.





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Emotional Masochism.

Some weeks ago, I wrote an entry titled "Wanted ~ online sadist"  which talked about "inflicting" sadism from a distance. 

I briefly touched upon emotional masochism, mentioning it is a completely different ball game and in fact, due to the fact it is something that plays upon the humiliation and the degradation of the emotions isn't a game at all.

I did say that I would come back, write further, as emotional masochism is something that interests me, it is something that I have explored. 

At one time in my own "past life" to be upon the receiving end of it, where I discovered at that point in exploration a need for emotional pain, and that emotional masochism was very much a need that needed to be fulfilled. That there was a brief time in such exploration of myself that I was and defined myself as an emotional masochist. 

Although now, my interest in it lies from the sadistic side, from inflicting the emotional pain, from being an emotional sadist. But also being fully aware that this is not a need that everyone has, and it isn't one of my "must do's".  Although I think there are indeed very "mild" forms of emotional pain which can be inflicted with words, with acts of humiliation but which do not take someone to the depths of being emotionally broken.

Many people however, seem to link emotional masochism with someone who makes bad choices in their relationships and partners and as such are drawn to "misery" within those relationships.  With thoughts that it is something that exists because of a low self esteem, that it comes about because the person doesn't want to feel happy.  That people will choose particular partners knowing that they are unavailable emotionally, that they cannot commit emotionally; that the end result of the relationship is from its outset, "doomed". 

In one particular discusson on a BDSM website someone described it as

"Emotional masochism... I believe that is the fancy name for falling for total wankers"

But, I disagree that in a Ds or BDSM sense, this isn't what emotional masochism is at all.

In a BDSM sense, it isn't about being attracted to someone who is a total wanker, someone who will treat them badly and that this instead is self destructive tendencies rather than emotional masochism. 

The two, are indeed very different.

Very very different.

I also believe that those who are emotional masochists are not suffering from a lack of self esteem and if anything are the opposite. That they need to have a personal strength, to be aware of their own self worth to be able to allow themselves to go to the depths where they can feel the pain, but will never be in a position of believing that is how they truly are.  That they are able to go down to the depths but also able to come back to the top, not an easy feat when emotional pain is involved.

But that there are people who need to have the emotional highs, of being loved, and "treated like a princess" but to also be treated like a piece of worthless shit, because it makes them feel good but those feelings come from something completely different.

It touches on different things than physical pain, but for many, is still a very genuine need.  And while it maybe not something everyone is into, that it may not be a need for everyone, for those who do have a need, it doesn't make it wrong or as some people always put into the equation "abuse".

Emotional masochism is complicated and many people find it hard to understand why someone would want to experience emotional pain, because it can be horrible, it can be damaging if it is something that isn't done with real care.  It is something that needs to be understood, so that the feelings that come to the emotional masochist are fulfilling just as if they were being hit with a cane or flogger.
 
When I explored this on the receiving end it was a genuine need which did more than arouse me, did more than "spice things up". Of course experiencing emotional pain can take you to places where every part of you reacts, but it is fills a deeper need, it fulfils, it thrills, it completes.  But it is hard to explain to someone how you need to feel that broken person, and that the pain of being hurt emotionally is something that you need.
 
Many believe that emotional pain cannot fulfil, that it is impossible to thrive on such, but this is not the case, for the emotional masochist they do thrive on the emotional pain that their Dominant can inflict upon them. And they need that pain just as much as they need happiness and love and all of the positive emotions. 
 
 It can fulfil in the same way physical pain can and does for the masochist.  That it does the same as a nice newly spanked or caned behind.
 

Of course for those who are not an emotional masochist, this can be extremely dangerous, playing with someones emotions, can lead to serious problems for both parties. 
 
But for some, that emotional pain and the need for it is intense, that you need the kind of pain that tears your insides out, that physically makes you ache within as if someone has reached in, grabbed the heart and squeezed all of the life from it. 
 
A pain that induces gut wrenching, body shaking sobs, the ones that bring great big tears that pour over the cheeks, a pain that can take your breath away that can even leave you numb, physically and emotionally.  And a pain that can leave you a sobbing, completely broken mess upon the floor.
 
For some it is hard to imagine why anyone would want that level or that kind of pain, to feel that knot of pain that you can feel deep within, but this can feed as well as a deeply marked back, a screaming pain that comes from such emotional pain can be just as fulfilling for the emotional masochist, that another may get from someone's hand, or a flogger or a cane.
 
The similarities come in that it is still a sensation.
 
Just because that sensation and fulfilment comes from someone ripping a heart out and squeezing it, doesn't mean that the person who needs it is weak or has self esteem issues.  In fact far from it.  It can be just as much about needing that particular pain and sensation that comes with any other masochistic need with physical pain.
 
But from a Dominant perspective, or more so from my own dominant perspective, emotional masochism just cannot be compared to those people who seek out self destructive, negative relationships and situations with people who quite literally do not give a fuck about them.
 
In my own experiences, some of the vilest and darkest emotional pain comes from the deepest and loving of places.  I wouldn't be able to inflict such emotional pain if there were not deep emotional connections and feelings, and I personally do not think that if the submissive wasn't adored and loved and cherished and that those feelings weren't reciprocated that it wouldn't take the emotional pain to the depths that an emotional masochist or sadist needs to fulfil their needs.  That without such connection and bond (and indeed trust) that it would be almost impossible to reach a situation and experience which leads to the masochist having such emotional pain that they wish they could die on the spot.

Sometimes, there is just something so beautiful; so fulfilling in being broken down, and from my own sadistic point of view, of not only physically but emotionally breaking someone down.  For them to be that broken sobbing mess on the floor whose heart has been taken from within . . .it meets the needs of the sadistic pleasure as well as the masochistic need.

But it thrills.

It feeds.

It balances.

It completes.

The "buttons" to be pressed however, still vary from person to person, they are still very much individual and what may bring one person emotional pain, may not to another.  This is what comes with learning about the other person, knowing what their needs are, finding ways to push those buttons so you can inflict the emotional pain upon them in the way that they need it. 

But emotional masochism can be incredibly intoxicating, incredibly powerful, and while it may bring a situation of a person being emotionally broken, they are strong enough to deal with those intense emotions and feelings and to know that those feelings come with being cherished, loved and adored.  There really does need to be an emotional and mental strength from both parties, to take someone to that level and to bring them back up.

I once read this description by an emotional masochist which explains it so very well and just how those feelings can meet the need.

Being pushed far outside of your emotional comfort zone is incredibly cathartic. To be broken down and feel bereft and lost then utterly found is an intoxicating feeling. It gives me a sense of strength and peacefulness and fulfilment inside.

So, as a dominant, what do I get from inflicting the emotional pain?
 
What is it about being an emotional sadist?
 

Well, it is one of those situations where I am able to feed off the responses of the sub, and that I can find myself going to new and some wonderful places, that as the submissive soaks up the emotional pain, as I see them diminish, see them getting smallerand weaker is an incredibly powerful but intoxicating experience.  
 
To reach in and pull the strings of the heart, to take it out from them and stamp on it, making it hurt, making them hurt, is an incredibly powerful thing. 
 
But it is one that comes with such emotional depths and feeling.  It is the extremes of making the submissive feel truly loved, adored, cherished, letting them know how wonderful they are, but on the flip side of the coin, making them feel worthless, useless, degraded and broken.  It is a contradiction in many ways, but inflicting such emotional pain, taking someone to the depths of this feeling is only something that can be achieved with an incredibly strong, emotional bond between the dominant and the submissive.  I would not be able to hurt someone in that way without it.
 
I couldn't just pull out a level of deep cruelty for just anyone, but it is something that comes and exists with a trust, bond and love. It is not something that you can just jump into, but something that takes time to develop, to explore, to reach the depths that emotional pain can bring. 
 
It is about ensuring that the submissive is fully aware of the feelings that are felt about them and towards them, so ultimately they know they are protected by those feelings, by the love and the care that I have for them.  It is important to know that the submissive is safe to proceed, whether it be emotional pain which touches the surface, or that which hits the very depths.  And one of the very important things for me, are the emotions that we feel, that are felt within the relationship, as I've written before, the emotions are the driving force of the things that we do, and that is no different to emotional masochism.
 
While the depths are fragile for the submissive, it can be just as much so for the dominant, for me.  There is a very fine line with breaking the invisible and mental connection that comes with enslavement. There is always that very fine line that we walk, what if it goes wrong, if we get it wrong, if we go too far?  But that is the knife edge and fear that so much of BDSM, Ds, S&M and TTWD brings and the whole beauty of it. 
 
There is beauty within pain, whether it be of the physical or of the emotional, but with the latter, only if they are an emotional masochist and sadist with an understanding and a need for that type of pain.
 
 
 
 
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The floor.

Time had passed slowly just as if the clock was reluctantly moving forward and wanted to drag the passing time out for as long as possible.  But the focus hadn't been on the time but on the conversation of the past few hours. 

There really was no need to even know how much time had passed or even what time it was now.  It was late, or more so, incredibly early, the dawn of a new day starting to break through, the first light of the day starting to force its way through the curtains hung at the window.

Still sat on the couch, where they had been for several hours, two empty glasses on the table from a bottle of wine long finished. 

They talked about so many things, the things that had once happened, of how things had been since then, of the hopes and desires for the future yet to come.  Knowing that there were similarities but also such huge differences in the wants and desires they both have.

She had relaxed, her legs curled up under her, leaning her head on her arm that rested on the arm of the dark brown leather sofa.  He was at the other end, one leg tucked up under his body, his other stretched out languidly before him.  There was an easy silence between them, there was no need for words, they certainly weren't needed.  And both were lost in the reflection and contemplation of all of the things that they had talked about, the things they had divulged and confessed. 

She watched him gently trace around his thigh with the tip of his finger, remembering the very first time that she had been on the receiving end of that touch.  The memories of how it felt to feel his hands upon her feet, him completely focussed on the job at hand would run his fingernail gently up the middle of her foot to her ankle and back again, just at the right pressure.  His focus and concentration so deeply on the task before him he wouldn't look up or break his gaze.

She watched him now with that same gaze and concentration in his eyes, remembering of the times that they had spent so many hours talking freely and openly, the ability to be so open, so honest and frank with whatever was talking about, and back then it had been him mainly trying to find an understanding of the desires that he had discovered and needed and which flowed out from every pore of his body.  The many conversations when he had expressed his fears, her constant reassurance that it was ok, that the thoughts and feelings, the fantasies and desires no matter how dark and depraved were ok.

She had shifted her focus only slightly when she removed her legs from under her body and stretched them out before her onto the floor, stretching the muscles in her legs and back from being in such a position for so long. 

And at that moment, in silence he slid off the sofa and sat at her feet.  His back resting against the sofa, he lowered his head towards her legs and rested his face against her knee. 

And there he rested. 

No words. Just the sound of both breathing and the ticking of the clock that was out in the hall way. 

There is something about such moments of closeness and quietness, that really are so powerful, she loved those moments, no expectations, no demands, just quiet, thoughtful reflection and a personal intimacy.

She gently stroked his face, ran her fingers through his hair and she felt him pull himself closer to her leg, just like a cat getting closer for the petting he is receiving. 

He was silent.

His eyes closed as she continued to stroke his hair.  And then he shifted, and he slowly slid to the floor, placing his body between her legs and the sofa.  He led there momentarily, before wrapping himself around her legs, his arms bringing her in closer to him, gently wrapping himself around her legs, holding onto them as if he feared her taking them away from him. 

And still he was silent.

He sighed deeply, and continued to shift until he found a position in which he felt comfortable, almost again like a cat, making his bed until he feels safe and warm and able to settle down to sleep, she smiled to herself, imagining that he could miaow or purr at any moment.

He was wrapped around her legs, pulling them to him, and his fingers started stroking her bare feet, the tips of his nails running up and down the very top of her foot, and it was just like it had been before. Just like he had never forgotten the pressure, the speed, the way in which she so loved to feel.  His fingers would occasionally trace up and down her calfs and shins, gently outlining with the very tips of his nails and fingers.

She sighed deeply. He stopped unsure if he was doing something he shouldn't have.  She felt his head move and him glance up to her.

"does that feel as good as it used to?" he asked tentatively, his eyes looking imploringly at her.

She smiled at him.

"Maybe JoJo. Maybe."




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Firsts . . .

A couple of things have happened in the past couple of days which has made me think, reflect . . .remember things from the past, people from the past, situations from the past.  Things that I have done, things that I explored, things that happened.

So many things to reflect on . . . so many "firsts".

I think we do tend to remember the "firsts" regardless of whether they are many years ago and back in childhood, or early adulthood, or even in more recent years.  They are the things that stand out; memories that we remember, that stay with us, that in some ways, will always stay with us.

The first kiss, the first love, the first heartbreak, the first time we received oral sex; the first time we gave it. The first time we had sex, the first time we had anal sex. The first dominant or submissive thoughts (whichever are applicable), the first orgasm, the first time we had a threesome, a moresome. The first time we inflicted pain; or the first time we received it.  The first time we discovered a kink or a fetish, the first time we explored it.  The first time we ventured into "public play", the first time we had risky sex, dangerous sex, intoxicating sex.  The first porn we watched, the first fantasies, the first time I identified as top, as dominant. The first time we found ourselves feeling liberated and free, the first time we were able to truly be ourselves . . .

And, there have been so many firsts, and I can remember the firsts of 100% of the above (or at least those that apply to me . . .which upon reading back is most of them lol

But it is only in recent times that I have reached the last one; the time I have been able to truly be myself.  Except I know that it is often one which many people do not get to do, that they live a life in secret or pretence, but never being able to truly be themselves. 

It is the creation of such memories that enable things to exist long after they may have finished, long after the person may be a part of our lives.  And most of the memories are indeed wonderful ones.  And no matter where we are in our lives, there are still so many firsts to come.

I intend that those firsts that are still yet to be for me, and whoever they may be shared with (and of course they will be "firsts" if they are shared with someone new!), will be ones where I am able to truly be myself, that they will be the "firsts" which although I may have experienced them before, will be different this time. 

They will come with the acceptance of who I am and my being able to be myself, and being perfectly ok with that.

And I am.





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The Ghost you require

I am loving the poetic words of Tyler Knott Gregson, his Haiku, his poetry.

 But this one, The Ghost you require is just so very apt right now.  When you see words that just say everything better than you could ever do . . .this is the case with this one.

I know that someone will read this and know that this is about them, 

~ this says it better than I could right now~

The Ghost You Require

The silence you need
and me with a mouth,
a mouth full of words.
The absence
the stunning absence
you wrap yourself in
steals the shadow
that follows me.
I can not be
for you,
the ghost you require.

I can not swallow the words
filling my mouth
I can not fade
into the silence
of absence.
You need a ghost
I can not become.

The ghost you require
and the quiet inside.
The words never spoken
and the frozen sleep
of a night spent alone.

I can not be
for you,
the ghost you require.

Tyler Knott Gregson

You can't be a "real" Domme.

It is always interesting getting comments and feedback on the things that I write.  I also appreciate the comments, the feedback and with putting my writing out "there", it is always good to have others opinions, feedback and thoughts.

Not many people seem brave enough to comment on the blog and stick to sending emails or messages via my profiles on certain sites, which is still nice, but a shame that people don't feel able to put their thoughts "out there".

However, since writing "The Blow Job" only a few hours ago Sub Guy has left a comment on the blog which I just have to respond to and thought that deserved a whole post of its own.

This is what Sub Guy wrote in his comment. . .

Fricking Hot!

But how can u call yourself a real Domme by doing such a submissive act of sucking your submissives cock?

Sub Guy.

18 April 2011 20:46

Who says I can't suck cock? Who says that I cannot be a "real" Domme because I do?

Actually . . .what is it that makes sucking cock a purely submissive act and by doing it means that I am not Dominant? It isn't the "act" that is submissive or dominant. It is the way in which it is done, the way in which it is carried out, the person who is in control.

That person is me. 

Why does sucking a mans cock make me any less dominant? Why does it make any person, male or female less dominant?

It doesn't.

Does giving a blow job make someone submissive?

No of course not.

Which rule book is it written in? Which page is it written on that says sucking cock is a submissive act?

It isn't.

Where does it say that sucking cock is an act that cannot be carried out by a Dominant? And that if you do, it makes you submissive?

It is in the same place that says a male Dominant giving oral to a female submissive is an act of submission . . .in other words, it isn't written anywhere.

And that is because, if a Dominant chooses to do something (whatever it may be), if they are in control of it, if they are choosing how, when and in what vain the act is carried out, it isn't a submissive act.

Not in my opinion. Not in my experiences. Not when I make the decision it is what I want to do.  If I decide. I do it. How I want to. When I want to and in what way I want to. If I don't want to. I don't. End of.

Of course such oral worship features in many Ds relationships and dynamics, it is often a way of expressing submission, of showing submission. That if a submissive is orally worshipping their dominant it expresses their submission, their place and their devotion. It can express many things and show many things.  It is an act that fits into the Ds dynamic.  It is an act that fits into a relationship between two people, not necessarily Dominant and submissive, but can still express that dynamic and role.
 
A dominant sucking cock, doesn't mean that they aren't Dominant and that in giving a blow job that they are then submissive. AND there isn't anything to say that because I like to do it, because I choose to do it, that it makes me submissive, that I am carrying out a submissive act.

I am not. 

Also, it is another case of "real" and this "one true way" that so many people seem to "preach".  That pisses me off too!

Like those who say you cannot be a "true" or "real" Dominant if you don't do X, Y or Z and that if you don't do A, B or C you aren't a "real" or "true" submissive.  

Who is to say anyone is real or more "true", it suggests that there is one true way as far as BDSM goes, and that is total bullshit. 

My way is right for me. That's it. 

Others don't have to agree. They don't have to follow. I am not asking anyone to.  I am not saying that my way is better than anyone else's or that anyone else's way is better than my own.  What I do works for me. And that is it as far as I am concerned, it is all I am concerned about.

As I ranted in a previous blog entry HERE which explains my feelings regarding this view that so many have of the "one true way". And this is another case of that. Another example.  That because I suck cock it doesn't mean I am Dominant. That I cannot be a "real" Domme because I take a mans cock in my mouth.

I would say that there is nothing in my recollection within "The blow job" which would suggest that what I have done is a submissive act.  I would say such tease, such denial, such sadistic infliction of pain and suffering, and such control of the levels of pain and when it happens, in what way it happens is far from a submissive act. 

But that's just me.

I do things that I want to. Because I need to. Because I make the decision to. Because I enjoy it. Because I LOVE it.

And I do it . . .because I CAN!

It can be anything, but because I choose to do it, because I am in control of it, that is the key. CONTROL.

The control is mine. 

It is MY choice. MY decision. MY act. MY control. And that as far as I am concerned that on its own moves it out of the realm of being a submissive act on my part.

;)

So, if I want to suck cock.

I will.

And if anyone doesn't like the fact that I do.

Well, the issue isn't mine!






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Love . . .

Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.”

~Louis de Bernieres

The blow job.

She sits astride him, her legs either side of his as she grinds herself against his hardening cock. 

He can feel her arousal against him and she rubs harder, backwards and forwards, arousing him, teasing him and every so often allowing the tip of his cock to reach the entrance to her wet cunt only to pull away and rub herself against him even more. 

Each time she does she senses his body tense with anticipation, only to hear the sigh of frustration as she pulls away just as he can feel his cock entering into the depths of her.

His wrists are restrained, his ankles too. 

He is open. Naked. Vulnerable. His eyes are hidden behind the darkness of the blindfold.

The expression on his face, his heavy breathing, she watches his chest rising and falling at a growing speed.  And she rubs herself against his hardness until he lets out a groan and she wants to rub him raw. Crawling backwards down his body, skin against skin, she rests when her mouth is above his cock.

Looking up at him with an amused expression on her face, she smiles.  His face is filled with anticipation and he swallows desperately trying to make his dry mouth wet. 

And she moves further down, trailing the tip of her tongue over the warmth of his skin, causing him to shiver, causing the goosebumps on his skin.  She flicks the top of her tongue over the tips of his hardened nipples, reaching forward and biting them hard.  She laughs as a sharp gasp absconds from his mouth.  And she leans forward and bites him harder still.  Pinching the other nipple between the tips of her nails, feeling his body beneath her flinch from the pain that flows around his body.

And slowly, she crawls backwards further down his body, she slips against him easily and as she moves down she can constantly feel his hardness against her body. She grinds herself against his hardness, the friction of his cock against her skin making him grow ever sensitive, and she wants to use that friction and make him raw.

She stops when his cock comes out from under her body, and as she looks up at him, the head of his cock so close to her mouth he can feel her breath. She doesn't touch it, she doesn't say anything. She just breathes, watching him twitch, watching his body gently forcing his cock forwards as if he is so desperate for her to take him in her mouth.

She gently parts her lips, her tongue coming out and making contact with tip of his cock, gently but swiftly, deftly making him wet, her tongue flicks over the tip so lightly and quickly that he doesn't have time to process the sensations before another one hits him. She hears the sharp intake of breath at the moment she touches him, the sensitive skin, and he moans.

She stops there for a moment longer, teasing him, the anticipation of what is to come building even more.

And as she opens her mouth, she quickly dips her head, taking him deep into the warmth of her mouth.

She moves quickly, suddenly, sliding her lips down the full length of his cock making him wet with her tongue as she pulls away just as quickly. One swift movement, no stopping, no resting, a smooth movement until she pulls away from his cock releasing it back into the air.  His breathing is shallow and fast, his heart beating and a groan of desperation escapes from him once more. 

His cock twitches, as do the muscles in his legs, desperately trying to move himself towards her as he so desperately wants to feel his cock inside the warm depths of her mouth once more.  She pulls back and slaps his cock hard with her hand at him trying to move towards her.  A sharp exhalation mixed with a groan of arousal escapes from his mouth, the confusion in his mind of the pleasure mixed with that sudden unexpected pain.

Her tongue, almost snakelike, comes out from her parted lips once more, teasing the head of his cock with her tongue, swirling it around the head, the tip and partly down the shaft. He is so sensitive now, his eyes deprived from sight heightening the feelings and sensations that course through his body.

And as his breathing begins to slow, she moves to a more comfortable position, watching him, never taking her eyes away from him, yet he is as much focussed on her as she is on him, she longs to kiss him, to draw him into her mouth.  She watches him as he gently opens his mouth as if he is beckoning her towards his lips, he knows how she loves to kiss him. And the longing lurches within her, a need that is aching and longing and she wants to kiss him right then  but instead her head plunges down over the full length of his erection, her warm lips reaching the base of his cock as its head plunges into the depth of her throat.  Leisurely she withdraws her mouth tightly over the shaft of his cock, taking her time as she grips his cock with her lips, teasing it with her tongue as she slowly removes her mouth from him.

Reaching the head she laps at the top, he is tensing and moaning, his body reacting to the administrations of her tongue, of her mouth, of her lips. And she teases him like that for a while, as he melts into the arousal he is feeling.  And his arousal is rising, and her need is growing, and she wants him, to devour him, to take him.  And as his body begins to tense, as his body becomes close to orgasm, she takes his cock into her mouth, closing it tightly around him, and just as he thinks she is about to let him come, she closes her teeth around his cock and feels his body stiffen at the force of her teeth around the sensitive skin.

She waits. 

Awaiting his reaction, awaiting for him to figure out what may be coming next. He doesn't move, so she presses harder into his cock with her teeth. Just just waits.  There is no rush.

The precum that leaks mixes with her saliva that she can feel building witin her mouth, she allows it to drip over him.  But he is tensing his body, fidgeting around in anticipation, with fear of what is to come. A million and one thoughts and feelings running through his mind like a runaway train, a mixture of confusion, angst, fear, anticipation all mixed with the headiness of his arousal. He knows just what she is capable of, he knows how much she likes to tease him, to deny him, to ruin his pleasure, to cause him pain and he has no idea of what is to come his way.  He tries to shift his body, trying to force her into making a move.

But she waits.

Her teeth pressing into him even more as he makes that move, and as she does so, she begins to move slowly down his cock, he is pushing up against her as her teeth scrapes and pulls against the skin of the top and the underside of his cock, she doesn't relent in the force at which her teeth are gripped and he doesn't stop pushing himself into her mouth. And he is moaning and groaning, and he is letting out little cries of pain as the teeth scrape the so delicate skin of his cock. And he pushes himself more and she grips harder with her teeth and she wants to rub him raw with her mouth.

Her teeth are bared as she opens up her lips, no easing up on the pressure that her teeth grips him with, and he can feel the pressure and the pain as he pushes himself in and out of her mouth, as she grips onto him tighter with her teeth as she herself moves up and down the length of his cock.  And it is intense and agonising and burning. And it is consuming and extreme and fervent. And it is painful and violent and torturous.  And still he pushes. And still she grips. His body tensing and raising, pushing himself deeper into her mouth.  And his flesh is being scoured away, agonisingly painful as it feels as if his skin is lacerated by her teeth. And it hurts all the more and the pain is growing, but the warmth of her mouth around his cock makes him feel the warmth of her.

And she doesn't stop.

She continues to wound him with her mouth, as she punishes him, and she continues to salivate and drool over his cock, the grip of her teeth preventing her from swallowing, and he is pushing harder now, his groans increasing in volume, the pain he is feeling audibly clear.  And she releases the pressure slightly and can feel his body relax, only to grip him tight once more as she moves slowly, deftly, up and down the length of him.

And he is raw now, his movement and her movement relentless. He is hurting himself and she is hurting him.

And he is whimpering, moaning and groaning, and he is begging for it to stop and begging for more, and he is mewling and moaning and begging to come.  And he is crying and pleading and longing and he is  desperate and gasping for breath and the pain is incessant and barbaric and brutal.  And she is merciless and savagely and unrelentingly hurting him.

And the blow job continues . . .





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Beautiful pain

You call to me in the dead of night and in the silence of the darkness I hear you. And although you make no sound, I hear everything.

The screaming in your voice resonates in my head.  

The expression in the depth of your eyes portrays your longing and desire. 

The voice that beckons me closer, it begs endlessly for the beast, it begs to see it, to feel it, it begs to be at its mercy, and yet to be shown no mercy.  It begs to be smothered in its torment as you are engulfed within its rage. 

And the screams are torn from your body. They are taken from your depths, the desire and lust shining from the darkness in your eyes. And I take without thought, take without feeling, unleashing the beast with an abandonment and selfishness that leaves no doubt. Leaves you in no doubt.

And you bare the marks of the beast, bewitched and captivated by its power and strength. And as blood begins to seep from the fresh wounds upon your skin, the marks of my love and your submission beautify your naked body. The marks of old moments and memories being felt with all that is created anew.

You are torn and ravished. And you feel the pain and your face expresses the pain, and it is beautiful.

And you are visited by the beast that visits time and time again, and so often with the same result, so often devoid of emotions. But filled with the deepest of feeling, beautiful pain inflicted with cherished love and desire.

And it is a beautiful pain that comes, a beautiful pain that releases from every pore, felt with every breath, a beautiful pain which without you, is nothing.







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