Level 3? WTF?!

So.

I receive an email from someone commenting on what "level" of FLR I follow.  I mean, what is that all about?  WTF?

My relationships are female led. End of. They don't go to any particular level they just are.  I was curious to how he was suggesting I was a level 3 and then realised that he'd probably read some "guide" or some online blurb about how we fit into neat little tick boxes and fit into certain levels with these things that we do.

And yes. I was right.

He sent me a link to "What is FLR" and there, it attempts to "define" what constitutes an FLR! Why are people so hellbent on trying to "define" the things that we do, trying to label, trying to fit everyone into little tick boxes of how we are or must be to be Dominant, or submissive and that if we don't do X, Y or Z we aren't either.  Why?

This article does say they created these four levels for discussion, but people, especially those who are new, exploring and trying to discover, take these things so literally.  But what pisses me off, is that people then take this "stuff" they read and insist it is how it is.

He couldn't get past the thought that because I don't do something, I couldn't be a level 4, that my FLR couldn't be "defined" as a level 4.

What absolutely fucking bullshit!!!!

Now, this somewhat pisses me off.  Actually, no, it seriously pisses me off!

I don't work to levels. I don't work to what someone may happen to say my FLRs reflect.  Who is anyone to say what "level" I lead my relationships? Who is anyone to say whether my relationships are female led or not?  Whether something is right or wrong?

There are things I explore. I do so because it is MY choice to do so.  Just because I don't do something doesn't then mean that my relationship isn't female led. 

If it is right for me. If it works for me. It is. 

Simple.

Why do people insist on writing these things? Why do people insist on leading people to these things? It brings those who find this stuff online into a place which for the main is just bullshit and they get drawn into thinking that because they've read it somewhere that this is how it is.  People do not fit into levels or tick boxes.  They do not fit neatly into what labels get thrown out there.

Wow.

My relationships are female led. No level. No debate. They are. That's it.  

End of. 

Mine

I remember the first time, as if it were yesterday.  I remember not knowing what to expect, not knowing how it would be, the sense of fear so overwhelming I could hardly breathe.

I remember you took my breath away.

I remember how it felt to be there, with you, to place myself into your hands with a level of trust so deep; I had never felt so scared yet so safe all at once.

I remember the first time you touched me and the sensations it sent right through my body.  I remember looking into your eyes and the look going straight between my legs.

I remember the way it felt when you covered my eyes with your hands, plunging me into a darkness that only served to heighten my other senses, before you carefully placed the mask over my head.

I remember the anticipation I felt as I was there knelt before you. The fear, the arousal, the sense and the fear of the unknown and of you.  I remember you leaning over me, whispering in my ear, telling me that you were going to hurt me. 

I remember how those few words made me feel. But more than that, I remember how every moment of the first time made me feel.

I remember the way it felt as it made contact with my skin, I remember the electricity that passed through my body as I cried out from the pain that you caused with the cane that you used so expertly.

I remember the way it felt as the initial shock melted away within my body, the feelings spreading through my body like ripples on a lake, as it sent me cascading over the edge like a waterfall over a cliff.

I remember the way it felt as you covered me with your body, holding me close, letting me know that you were going to do it again.  I remember the way that you took my face in your hands, bringing my eyes up to meet your own and the way that I could see deep within you, the longing, the desire deep from within your soul.  I remember crying out as the pain seared through my skin and into the depths of my body.  I remember the gasps that left my mouth, the groan that escaped from my throat, I remember the tears as they quietly poured over my cheeks and onto the pillow beneath me.

I remember how it felt, when you reached down and touched me, my own wetness betraying the arousal of my body, of how sensitive my skin was to touch; to your touch. I remember your touch, the way your fingers felt against my skin, how your nails felt as they gently traced a pattern over my shoulders and down my back.  I remember the burning pain as your nails broke my skin as your other hand reached up and twisted my hair in your fist. I remember the pain searing through my head as you dragged me to my knees by my hair.

I remember how it felt when you touched me gently, with love and tenderness.  The insatiable look within your eyes as your beast prowled within, showing me that you had only just started; that you wanted to hurt me so much more.  I remember how it felt when you hit me, slapped me, bruised me, the sting of the leather as it made contact with my thighs; my ass and my breasts.

I remember as I began to float outside of my body, watching you hurting me.  Watching myself lost to the moment of exquisite pain.  I remember the marks covering my skin, the welts from your cane, the hand shaped bruise on the cheeks of my ass and the marks of the crop in little patterns over my thighs.  I remember the taste of blood from the cut on my lip, the way my cheeks stung from the intensity of your slaps.

I remember the marks around my wrist from the rope you had tied me with, the redness and soreness from where I had fought against those ties, trying to escape from your brutality.  I remember the way my legs ached from being restrained by the bar, which had pushed them open wider than was naturally comfortable.

I remember you holding me, the way it felt when you stroked my hair as I curled up in a ball shaking and shivering while my body and mind desperately fought to reconnect.  I remember begging you, pleading with you, screaming at you, then thanking you.

I remember being before you, in front of you, knelt before you. I remember your arms holding me up as my legs crumbled beneath me, the way my body shivered at your touch.  I remember your voice, the names that you called me as I hated you, despised you, being angry at you. I remember wanting you, needing you, feeling you, loving you.

I remember the taste of you, the smell of you, the intensity of your touch.  I remember your desire, your arousal, your need as you took what you wanted, what you needed, however you needed.

I remember through the pain and the tears, through the way that you had broken me, that I told you that I loved you.

I remember you shouting "MINE".

restrain desires

Those who restrain their desires do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.

William Blake

I was reading a blog recently.

Another one about a situation of a male wanting a WLM and the wife not "playing ball".  One where he has tried for over four years of their marriage to get her to take control.  And now finally, he has the realisation that it just isn't going to happen.

In many ways, the frustration but also the sadness of the writer is clear to see from the words that fill the screen.

And yet, it is also such a shame because as I said to him, there are indeed very few males who genuinely want the things that he wants and that it isn't easy from my own perspective as a Dominant female, in finding a male who really wants to live their lives that way.

It seems that so many are within the relationship that they "settled" for, one which they hoped they would be able to manipulate and change to have their submissive needs met.  Except, they forgot to remember that really, while some may be dominant, they do not have the need or the desire to dominate.

One of the comments on this guys blog from a "dominant female" saying how this blog proves what she says all over online as being right.  I mean, the poor guy is struggling with the reality of what may not be for him, and here she is "gloating". 

People like that, really get up my nose!

Who gives a shit what she has written anywhere?

Who is she that needs to be proved right or wrong anyway?

And why choose to do it on a place where this blogger is coming to a pretty harsh and stark reality that his wife will not dominate, and that he will not be able to have the WLM that he so longs for and craves.

I mean, FFS woman!

Bring your head out of your own ass!

It isn't something proving "you" right.  It is a situation that is seen time and time again.  It's not rocket science is it.  So, you've said something out there in oblivion and this is another one to prove your "theory". 

Well lady, it's not your theory is it.

It is a reality for many.

So get over yourself love!

Anyway . . .rant over.

Aside from this most pathetic comment that really I don't know why she bothered to rub the poor guys nose in it . . .someone else had commented about accepting not being able to have what we want and that we should just put up with it.

But should we?

Really?

Or is it because that person can say that, can put up with whatever their lot in life maybe because their desires can be restrained. That the reality is, their desires for the things that they want or need in life aren't that strong. That they can accept what little bit they do get, because ultimately that matches the level of desire that they have.

There will always be compromises in whatever type of relationship or dynamic it is.  Whether it be "vanilla" through to D/s or FLR.  Compromise is something that we all have to do, whether we be dominant, submissive or on anywhere on the scale inbetween.  Life isn't perfect.  We aren't going to find a relationship which gives us 100% of what we want or need.

But we can make a decision to follow a path, we can make a decision to at least make changes to have those things that we want . . .maybe if he had been honest at the beginning of his relationship with his then wife to b back then, it would have been a lot different . . .saved many years of trying to "push" her into dominating him. Saved him many years of frustration and heartache and not being able to be the person that he is, or wants to be.  And saved him the situation  of now deciding whether what he is faced with having in terms of his marriage and life, is going to be enough.

A situation of deciding whether his desires can be restrained.  I wonder if they are weak enough.

I know for me that they aren't.

I know that my desires for the things that I hope for, need are incredibly strong, and as such, would still prefer to not even begin to walk down a path that could ultimately not give that.

My own desires cannot be restrained.  My own desires are not weak enough to be restrained.  And as far as I am concerned, I have no desire to restrain them anyway.  

Life is far too short!

A perfect sub?

What makes a perfect sub?

This is the question that someone asked me today.

Firstly, I don't think that there is such a thing. The word "perfect" makes it something that isn't achievable. Something which is a fantasy of something that isn't realistically attainable.

Nobody is "perfect", nobody can be perfect and if we set ourselves up with an expectation of finding someone perfect, then we will always fail.

While no-one can be perfect, I do think it is possible for there to be a "right sub".  A sub that is right for a certain type of dynamic, a sub that is right for me and the things that I may look for or seek.

Just as there can be a Dominant that is right for a particular sub and the type of dynamic or relationship that they may seek or need.  Of course it doesn't mean that things will be perfect (nothing ever is!), nor does it mean that being the "right" person will mean that they do not make mistakes.

After all, everyone does.

In a fantasy world, in the backs of our imaginations I guess we could all have our "perfect" other half.  The perfect sub, or the perfect dominant, someone who would do everything and meet every need.  But, it seems so false. Not a reality, but a robotic fantasy of what someone could never ultimately achieve.

If we aim for that, if that is what we strive for, then I believe we are all going to fall short of that y'know? No-one will ever meet the expectations that we may have, because they are wholly unrealistic.  

I think it is important that we don't aim for that perfection, it isn't compromising, it is being realistic.  Even those we think are "perfect" have their flaws. Their weaknesses. Their failings.

We all do.

So, what can make a sub right for an FLR?

I think it is more a case of certain traits, certain characteristics as well as someone who has the same need and desire for an FLR as I do, but from a submissive angle of course.

I know what I am and I am aware that the type of dynamic that I seek is one which is purely a Female Led Relationship.  So, if that is right for me and in turn I am right for it, then there is more than likely a submissive who it is right for and where the FLR dynamic is right for them too.

Makes sense right?

So, when answering this question earlier I tried to explain that while I don't subscribe to the "perfect sub" that I think there are traits, characteristics that would make someone right for me and for the type of relationship that I would seek.

So . . .what is that?  What can make a sub right for an FLR . . .

Well . . .(and these are my thoughts, and I am not suggesting that someone is going to have all of them!) but . . .

A man who is able to serve with consistency but also constancy.  Someone who doesn't just want to submit or serve when they are horny or aroused.  In short my own dominance, my own need for control and to be in that control extends way beyond the bedroom and I need someone who is able to accept that, embrace it  and need it in the same way.  

A man who is capable of submitting in that way, not someone who only wants to submit in the bedroom. I need more. I expect more and I want him too as well.

A man who isn't submitting to get "rewards" and "treats".  The need and the desire to submit must come from the fulfilment that he gets from submitting.

A man who understands the fact that I don't do rewards.  Yes I do treats, I like to treat someone, gift someone, surprise someone, but not as a reward for service.  I want and need someone who is fulfilled from the pleasure that he gives, but whose ultimate needs are met through that serving.  Not someone who will only do something because there is the expectancy that they will be rewarded for doing it.  That isn't submitting to me.

A man who doesn't need to be "forced" to submit, but someone who does so freely, from his choice, from his desire, because it is how he is wired. It is his psyche.

A man whose submitting isn't conditional.  A man who doesn't only submit when his needs, wants, fetishes or kinks are present.  Let me explain ~ I have no problem with a submissive having wants, needs, desires. After all, if those aren't met, the relationship will fail. What doesn't work for me is that if those fetishes aren't present that it prevents him from submitting.  

A man who enjoys life and the interaction with his partner.  I enjoy life, I enjoy the interaction with a partner on many levels, it isn't all about fantasy for me.  It cannot be for him either.

A man who can communicate, who is able to connect on many levels and not just from a sexual viewpoint.  He must be able to interact, to converse, to discuss, to share thoughts, feelings, emotions, with openness, clarity and honesty.

A man who needs to give himself up to the control.  I need to be in control.  For me, it is all about control.  That control isn't always sexual and at times it can be very much removed from being anything sexual.  The right sub for me is someone who needs to have that control over them, but someone who is quite capable of thinking for themselves, able to make decisions and certainly able to when necessary.  

A man who doesn't need to be micromanaged.  Someone who is an adult and a responsible one at that, I don't want a child and I have no wish to treat someone as a child.  So to be right for me they must be a responsible adult, who wants to be treated as such, but more so, will behave as such.

A man who doesn't manipulate. A man who is non-controlling (after all, that's my domain! lol) but who is quite capable of thinking for himself who isn't fearful or scared of taking the initiative to please without always being told what to do.

A man who will uphold all that he offers, freely.  That he is able to submit and demonstrate that he doesn't always need an instruction to do so, simply because he wishes to please and has a desire to do so. 

A man who is fulfilled in bringing pleasure in many ways, to make someone feel special, who is as responsible for his own happiness as he is for my own, but knowing that it will be that way in return.  He must accept responsibility for his submission and understand that he must do all he can to please his Dominant in the ways that she likes to be pleased.

A man who isn't selfish, who is driven by his desire to serve and please and who finds fulfillment in such.

A man who is honest and open minded, but also realises that every dominant is different and that he must approach a relationship with me with an open and refreshed mind. Expecting it to be different from others' approach and to be open to this and embrace it.

A man who is able to give the space for a dominant to discover her power, and to exert it. But a man who is fully aware that it is as much about his contribution as it is from my side and that it comes from both.

A man who will do what he says, who will fulfill the promises that he makes.  Who is able to anticipate needs and take care of them, even before being asked, and who doesn't need to have orders relayed to him 24 hours a day to do every little thing.

A man who realises it is not about dressing up, it isn't about fetish or kink and that it is about a whole. A whole relationship and that he wants and needs that whole. Someone who agrees that a relationship cannot just survive if it is based on those kinks and fetish.

A man who has a need to follow an FLR, one which involves as much in terms of romantic love and attachment as it does being service orientated.  Who wants a reality not something "scene based".

A man who can laugh as much as he can love. A man who can make me smile as much as he can make me feel adored.  A man who is as self aware as he is sensuous. Who is as comfortable in conversation as he is in silence. Who is attentive, dependable, and willing.

A man who is who he says he is.  A man who wants it all. But who wants it because he needs it, needs it in the form of an FLR, because of what he can give to it, not because of what he can get.

So . . .

There is such a thing as someone who is "right". Whether we ultimately find that, who knows.  But it starts with knowing what we want, what we need, being open with that, but open to it.

So no. I don't think there's a "perfect sub". There isn't a perfect anything.  But I do believe so very much that there can be someone who is "right". Someone who is right for a certain type of relationship.

Someone who is right for another.

Balance

"Some people have confused equality with symmetry, making the assumption that everyone should have the same thing . . . Sometimes setting the same rules for both partners simply doesn't make sense because you are different people who want different things. In attempting to give each person equality you could lose sight of what each person actually wants.  Work to achieve balance rather than equality." Tristan Taormino 

And that is exactly how it works for me.  It is about balance.  It is about achieving a balance.  It is about different people with different needs who want different things and whose needs certainly won't be met by the same rules!

I don't want equality.

I don't want superiority.

I want a balance. 

A relationship which works by giving each person (or persons) within that relationship the balance that they need.  We all have different needs, we all want different things.  There will of course be needs and wants that are shared, but it is still quite possible to have those different needs and wants met, even when there is such a big difference.

I do not want symmetry and I think just with how they are established that a relationship with power exchange cannot reflect symmetry, not really.  I don't think they are about "equality", but they are about a balance.  A balance which is achieved through that exchange of power, a balance which is achieved because there are different rules for each person, but ones which enable each persons needs to be met.  That the exchange of power brings about that balance, brings about those needs being met, regardless of how different they actually are.

I need to be in control.  For me, it is all about control.  I need to dominate because that is who I am. What I am.  What I need.  The balance within my own relationships comes from being with someone who has quite the opposite needs and it comes with that power exchange.

Of course each relationship will find balance in different ways, according to the needs of each person and in what way they achieve it or indeed perhaps need it.  But for me, it isn't about equality or my being superior, it is all about achieving a balance.

And I very much need that balance.

But it comes from an exchange of power.

It comes from being within female led relationships, it comes from aspects of D/s, it comes from my dominating over someone who submits, simply it comes from my being in control.  It comes from the bringing together of two different people who are at different ends of the D/s spectrum. But because they do, they naturally balance.

And that works for me!

Lose the labels!

"I have tattoos, so I’m a trouble maker. I have curves, so I’m fat. If I wear makeup, I’m fake. If I say what I think, I’m a bitch. If I cry some times, I’m a drama queen. If I have guy friends, I’m a slut. If I stand up for myself, I’m mouthy. Seems like you can’t do anything nowadays without being labeled. So what, go ahead and label me, see if I give a shit…"

Ellen Dunsworth

Labels. 

There is something about labels that seriously get up my nose.  There seems to be a whole plethora of people who want to place labels on everyone else, or try to place themselves under a label which they are never going to fit.

I am an individual.

I take pride in that fact.  I like the fact tht I am different from many people and I don't try to make myself like another.  In short, I always try my upmost to stay true to myself, my beliefs, my wants and needs and desires.

And because of that I am not fond of labels.

I am not interested in having labels placed upon me, I am not interested in being labelled as anything, or defined as such.  Although to be honest, there would be so many that could possibly fit the list could be endless; and that is because I am who I am. 

I cannot fit into any little box which describes who I am or the needs that I have.  It would be impossible, unless I was to be chopped up into smaller pieces and each piece of me placed under all the appropriate labels that could potentially fit.

Of course in certain situations, lables can help in some ways.  They can help us to try to understand, get others to understand. They can go some way to explaining.

But, as is so often the case, people allow these labels to define them, to define who they are and their actions.  But in allowing this to happen, it can go so far that, not only do they define the person, but that person shapes themselves to fit the label.  That the label can mould the person so that they fit, instead of being what they are whatever that may be.

This, is something we see a great deal of in relation to BDSM.  A whole host of labels of dominant, top, submissive, slave, switch, sadist, masochist. . . it really is endless.  And people all over the place are trying to place themselves under a label to "fit".  And yet, on top of that, there's the whole host of labels given to the relationship dynamics too ~ D/s, M/s, FLR, HOH, Vanilla etc etc etc  But, many relationships bring together aspects from different ones, and it then becomes almost an impossibility to use any label.

It is the same for people.

Or at least for me it is.

I know that I do not fit into the traditional "Domme" role.  I know and am fully aware that I have been dominant all of my life, I know that I am dominant and that I have the need for control and to be in control.  I have even had what for me I guess I can refer to as a "vanilla" relationship yet, it was still female led.  And yet, it didn't need to be labelled anything.  I don't believe that I, or my relationships need to be labelled as anything, because there isn't just one that fit.  There would be many. Things that describe the dynamic and the people within them, things that describe the characteristics of those within them . . .it cannot be just one.

When I first discovered all things "BDSM", I did explore in depth the labels that get thrown around.  What they mean. What they stand for.  And like so many, there was a time in the very early days that I even tried to apply them to myself, my wants, my needs, my relationships.  But then when we label, there is this pressure that we place on ourselves to change.  There is a pressure to "fit" under that label and what others think or believe is right or wrong.

As such, these labels then change us.  They do not represent who we are. And I strongly believe that they hinder me.  And I say me, because I know that for many, they live for labels and place themselves underneath them. 

So. For me. Labels went out of the window.

I am who I am.  And while I may not fit under what labels people try to pigeon hole me under, I fit into what is right for me.  I fit quite perfectly in my world.

I am me.  People can draw whatever conclusions they wish.  In fact, people will draw whatever conclusions they wish to even without the labels.

But I know what I like. What I don't. I know what I want.  What I don't. I know what I need from a relationship, what I need from another as well as from myself.  I don't need labels to tell me that.  I don't need to be defined or limited by such.

I have always known I was kinky.  And I mean, from earliest sexual fantasies. I have always been dominant. I have always been in control of my life, my actions and the things I do within it.  I have a need for that control and have to have it.  But, I also am aware that my needs in terms of relationships don't fall under any "label" either. 

It simply is, for me, a way of being.

Whether people think that certain aspects are D/s, M/s, "Vanilla", Femdom, FLR.  It doesn't ultimately matter.  Everyone will have differing beliefs and opinions as to what comes under what label anyway.  Everyone will have different definitions, everyone will have a different angle, a different approach. And that is ok . . .but it also means that labels themselves lose their value and their validity.

What fits under a label for one, will not for another.  So in that way, labels cannot really help.

Yes of course, they can have some positives in terms of helping to explain, to give some "idea", to help others understand.

But, labels can define us.  Labels can hinder us and limit us. But more so, we can find that we change to fit under certain labels, because others think that is how it should be.

It isn't. 

We just need to be true to ourselves.  Be happy with our way of being.  It doesn't need to be defined, or limited, or hindered.  Quite simply, it does not need to even be labelled.

So, let's just be.  Let's lose the labels!

Paint a picture . . .

My breath is warm against your body. Your skin is tingling.  It is like watching a rose unfurl, unfolding and opening as you offer your body to me.

Your body is waiting. It is willing to be used. 

You are a blank canvas before me, the palest of palette without definition.

Without colour.

The first strokes against your skin bring delicate shades of purple and blue . . .later the patterns and textures are cultivated upon the same skin.

They mingle together, developing layer by layer, a hue of shades and colours.

Your body is like a beautifully created art work. 

Your incandescent skin is a spectrum of colours that build and changes before my eyes, the patterns and marks growing into a resplendent picture upon your skin.

Your body is illuminated. Your skin is alive.

It is exquisite.

You are  beautiful.

Is it really vanilla?

"Many vanilla people are surprised to learn that S/M includes erotic spanks, scratches, and bites, which are amazingly common forms of erotic expression. They are also surprised to find out that S/M practitioners can fall in love, and that they enjoy conventional sex acts such as oral sex and intercourse."
Laura Goodwin

I don't know what it is, but it never fails to surprise me the amount of people who can be surprised at the thought that those of us into "this" lifestyle would have any interest in "conventional" sex acts, that we would do something that many would consider "vanilla", or for that matter, that we would actually have some emotional involvement and "fall in love". 

Why wouldn't we?

What is it about being into this lifestyle that precludes us from any of these things? 

There isn't.

For me, it isn't about the act itself that makes one particularly dominant or submissive. It isn't so much about the act which makes it particularly "vanilla" or otherwise.  For me, it is about the way it is done. The way it happens. The way it is controlled.

Some time ago, I wrote an entry titled "You can't be a real Domme" which I wrote in response to a comment left by a submissive male who suggested that I was not, nor could not be a "real" Domme, because I had expressed my enjoyment of sucking cock! 

Within that entry I wrote about how it isn't the act for me which is either dominant or submissive, but how it is controlled.  And it is the same for me in what people consider "conventional". 

I don't think that certain acts are limited to either a "vanilla" or "non-vanilla" relationship.  But then, just as I am not one for labelling people, I am not one who tries to label the relationships either, mine are quite simply for me, female led.  Bottom line.

It doesn't mean that because my relationships are female led that it means it can only include certain acts.  It doesn't mean that because I make the rules, that I make the decisions or that I am in control that I cannot suck cock, or that I cannot have conventional sex, or that I cannot fall in love or "feel"

I don't think that certain acts are only "vanilla" and I do not think that those that many would consider "vanilla" acts cannot feature within a dynamic which involves Domination and submission or even S&M either.

Of course they can. 

It still isn't so much about the act, it is about how it is done, how it works for the people involved.  There will be things that don't feature in either type of relationship, it is all about personal choice.  Doing what is right, what is wanted and not doing the things that we do not want to do.

I am a sadist. 

I have a love of hurting people. It gives me pleasure.  I like to do it.  But just because I like to hurt someone, doesn't mean that because I am not "vanilla", that I am not capable of feeling. That I am not capable of emotions and that I have not or do not want to "fall in love".  For me, it is an expression of feeling, of love.  I have no desire to hurt just anyone.

So why just because I am an "S&M practictioner", does it mean that I do not, or should not do the things that feature in most peoples "normal" (using that word very loosely) relationship?

It doesn't.

Even what I would class as my most "vanilla" of relationships have still involved many aspects of kink, even fetish. They have still involved many things that many would consider S&M.  But they have also involved a lot of "conventional" things too. 

And this is one of the reasons why I do not attempt to "label" my relationships, just as I do not try to label myself or what I am.  Yes it can help for us to have some sort of understanding.  But, they can also be so limiting.

I do not like to be limited and I won't be limited by labels nor by what I choose to do.  I won't be limited by people saying that certain things are "vanilla" and therefore I shouldn't be doing them. 

If I want to do something, I will.

If someone has a problem with that, it really is THEIR problem.

Not mine.

I think some people do have a hard job to understand how certain things that we choose to do can be an erotic expression. I think some find it hard to understand how hurting someone can be an expression of love or that it carries any emotion or feeling at all.  It is more to do with ignorance and a lack of understanding than anything else.

But, being in this lifestyle doesn't stop us doing certain things that everyone else does . . .it doesn't mean that we don't involve the "conventional" and it doesn't mean that we do not feel or cannot fall in love.

We do.

We can.

If I want to suck cock. I will. 

If I want to fuck. I will.

Quite simply, I will do what I want, if I want to do it. When I want to do it and how I want to do it.  Nothing to me is purely "vanilla".  It isn't about the act, its about how its done. It's about the emotion behind it.

All very simple really.

Marked as Mine

His eyes fall upon the marks that adorn his body. 

The deep scratches which have drawn blood upon his shoulders and back.  The red marks which are gradually turning purple and black upon the cheeks of his ass, the shape of the handmade solid oak paddle clearly visible as an outline, the bruising colouring it in like a child would colour a picture. 

The welts form a neat pattern of criss-cross from the cane that had made contact with his skin only a moment before.  Nipples raised, red and sore.  The word "MINE" scratched into the skin across his chest. 

He looks as if he wants to say something, but cannot find the words to express what he is thinking or feeling at that moment.  I watch him, without word, drinking in his reaction, the way he looks.

I stand behind him as he continues to look at his reflection in the mirror and at the marks that make his body look so beautifully abused.  He slowly turns each way, trying to see the marks that are over his beautiful body.

And I drink in the way that he looks, the marks upon his body, the look upon his face, and as his eyes raise to meet my own, I can see and feel the depth of feeling from his eyes that need no words.

"I am marked" he whispers almost in surprise.

I simply look at him in the mirror and nod.

"I carry your mark." he smiles and his eyes light up as these words leave with such an enormity of feeling from his lips.  I look at him for what seems like an age, but is a few moments in reality. 

I smile.

My eyes not moving from his own.

"You are. Because you are mine!"

Teasing.

He is knelt.

Naked. 

Blindfolded. 

His hands restrained behind his back.  She sits there watching him, taking in every inch of him.  Her mind is drifting to thoughts of hurting him, torturing his beautiful body, tormenting his cock, his nipples; his lips.

She traces in her mind the muscles in his thighs, his chest.  The images of all she wants to do charging through her mind. He moves his head trying to decide where she is, what she is doing.  He has been there for only a short time but his senses are already heightened due to the lack of sight.

She makes him stand and unties his hands before leading him across the room. He has no idea where to, or what his fate is going to be.  The blindfold is still firmly in place and as he stumbles along he grabs onto her as if his life depends on it.  She brings him to a standstill places his arms down to his sides and leaves him standing there.  Even with the blindfold in place she can picture the fear in his eyes, the fear of the unknown.  Something she has seen before when he has been allowed sight.  His cock twitches, his body betraying the desire that the fear brings to him.

She knows he is nervous, she knows that he is unsure, but she also knows that he trusts her, that he places himself safely into her hands, whatever those hands may do to him.

He is left standing there for what seems like eternity, but is minutes only. She smiles at his discomfort, his vulnerability and drinks in the nakedness of his body, imagining herself hurting it, hurting him and knowing that as yet, she cannot go there, that she needs to reign in her sadistic urges.  That she needs to keep the beast caged and away.  She sighs deeply at the thought however and watches as he moves his head to where the noise has come from.

She tells him to get on the bed, helping him back to the edge of it so he can get his bearings slightly.  He does so, lying on his back, and she attaches his cuffs to the top of the bed.  Moving down to secure his feet at the foot of the bed.  As she fastens each one, she takes the moment to tantalise and tease him, placing her mouth gently above his own, yet not quite touching, pulling away if he moves to meet her lips. She traces her tongue and her lips over his over his chin, his neck, his ears, with each gentle touch he shivers, gentle moans come from within him, and his hardening cock is begging to be touched.

She moves over him, sliding her own body across his, enjoying the feel of his skin, of his body beneath hers.  She traces down his body with her nail, digging it and dragging it into the skin, a reddening mark coming to the surface as she moves down the length of his naked body.

He is spread-eagled.

Restrained.

Blindfolded.

And she takes a moment to drink him in, watching his body reacting to the thoughts that are running through his mind, watching him drift, watching him aroused, watching him respond.  And he looks helpless and vulnerable yet strong.  And his vulnerability is breathtaking and beautiful, and his cock is hard and perfect.  And she wants to take him there and then, she wants to hurt him, use him.

But she doesn't.

She moves back over his body, sliding over him, allowing her tongue to trail tenderly over his warm skin, trailing up his inner thighs, along his stomach, but always avoiding his cock which is screaming to be touched.  He tries to manoeuvre so that he can place himself under her tongue and mouth, but she moves quickly away, bringing her hand down as she slaps him, not a slap with force, but one which makes him cry out with surprise. The slap is not enough to hurt him, and neither is it enough to prevent his cock from being hard and erect and longing to be touched.

She moves towards him, bringing her mouth closer to his.  She smiles as he anticipates the kiss that he thinks is coming his way. He knows how much she loves to kiss, of how much she takes with just one kiss, and he loves that she loves it, and he loves to feel the passion growing within her as her lips make contact with his own.  Even though blindfolded he senses where she is, tilting his head to meet her, making his mouth available to her; never knowing if it will be a gentle probing kiss, or one which makes him wince with the pain as her teeth take hold. 

Except this time, she avoids his anticipation, moving her mouth away from him, trailing her nails into his skin, across the tips of his hardened nipples. She flicks them gently at first and then harder, feeling him flinch as the tips of her nails catch the tips of his nipples.  They are red, engorged, and she places her mouth over them as she teases them with her tongue, he was not expecting this and the groan of pleasure escapes from his mouth, reaching up she twists the other nipple between her fingers, his groans of pleasure mixing with groans of pain as she bites and twists and hurts him gently.

She still trails her fingers from her other hand across his body and leaves his nipples wet which harden further when the coolness of the air touches them after she moves her mouth away.  She traces his body with her tongue, down over his chest, across his ribs, over his stomach, his hips.  His cock, just as before, screaming to be touched.

She stops and admires it.

Keeping her eyes upon him watching and gauging his reactions.  She stops tracing her tongue over his hips and without warning licks his cock hard from the head to the base and back to the head again.  His body bucks with surprise, his back arching up to meet her mouth that is firmly around his cock.  The groan that escapes from his mouth clearly audible.  Pressing her self against his legs, grinding upon him, he feels her arousal against his skin, her own arousal and wetness clearly felt. 

She teases him gently with her tongue, watching his arousal build, the pleasure coursing through his body, and as she watches him, she allows her own orgasm to wash over her.  She takes him in her mouth, deep into the back of her throat, her tongue teasing around the shaft and head of the cock as he moans.  She thought about biting him, hurting him, twisting his cock and balls with her hands, but at this moment, she is gentle, tender and soft. 

She lightens her touch further still; holding his cock in one hand, her tongue gently swirling around the head of his hardness, featherlike touches that can only just be felt, and she watches as he tries to arch himself even more to feel more force from her mouth and her tongue. 

She is watching him.

Teasing him. 

Frustrating him. 

Watching the arousal building in his body, his mind floating, the whole of his body sensitive to the lightest of touches.  And he is pleading and begging, and he is moaning and groaning and his breathing is fast and shallow, and his cock is twitching as its close to orgasm.

"It's not all about hurting and pain now is it?" she comments to him.

"No, but you want to hurt me don't you?" he asks tentatively.

She smiles. Returning to the teasing and tormenting of his body, with her tongue and her fingers, thinking that this is going to be fun, she simply says

"Maybe JoJo.  Maybe."

.

And it's not enough.

And you beg.  But it's not enough. 

And the more you beg, the more my sadism is sated.  The more I want to hurt you.  And you begin to beg and plead and your breathing is heavy and you look at me with pleading eyes.

But still it's not enough.

And I want to hurt you.

And I want to slap your face, making you look up at me after each slap and hearing you say "thank you" each and every time. And I want to do it again and again, making your cheek blazing red and that it takes you longer and longer each time for you to meet my gaze.  And your slowness makes me mad and it makes me want to hurt you all the more, so I hit you harder. And you beg even more and still it's not enough.

You are knelt on the floor, your hands are cuffed behind you. And I am stood before you looking at you, watching you, feeling you, hurting you. And I am calling you names and every time I call you a name your cock twitches at the humiliation. 

And you are hurt. And you are scared. And you are begging for me to stop.  And the more you beg. The more I want to hurt you.

And I stand there looking down at you, listening to you beg and plead and cry.  And I am calling you a slut. And I am calling you a whore. And I am calling you a pathetic fucking bitch and with every name there is a sigh. With every name there is an involuntary reaction from you body. And with every name your eyes glaze over just that little bit more.

And I bring your face up to look at mine with my hand under your chin. 

And I stop. And watch you. Your eyes glazing. 

And I place my hand on the back of your head pulling it forward. Leaning forward I bring you closer to my mouth and I cover it with my lips.  And I am kissing you. Devouring you. And I am biting and sucking on your lips. And I know it hurts. And I can feel you wince. And I can feel you try to pull away. And still you look at me, your eyes not breaking the pleading stare. And I kiss you harder. And I suck harder on your lips and I can feel them begin to swell beneath my own.  And I am kissing you. And I am eating you. And I am devouring you.

And I want to hurt you some more. And I want to hear you beg. And I want to see you cry. And the beast is raging and the more you beg, the more the beast rages.  And the more you cry, the more you plead, the more the beast wants to come out and hurt you and take you and break you.

I push you back away from me, and you lose your balance almost toppling over. And I laugh. And I make you crawl across the room on your bare knees, the coldness of the floor on your knees being felt with every inch.  And I tell you that you need to fetch me the paddle that is on the side. And I tell you that you're going too slow. So you crawl faster. And seeing you there crawling away from me, your arse on display, makes me want to hurt it, to make it red. It makes me want to mark it. Mark you. And it makes me want to fuck you there and then. 

And you bring the paddle in your mouth with difficulty and I laugh at your struggles as you crawl back across the floor. And you are trying so hard to keep it in the grip of your mouth, your lips still swollen from my kiss.  And you are gripping it as hard as you can and there's saliva running down over your chin and I hear you suck as you try to stop yourself dribbling so much. And you stop before me on your knees and lift your head up towards me.

And still your eyes are begging and pleading. And your breathing is heavy and deep.  You kneel back at my feet, waiting. Waiting to be told what to do next.

Except I do not speak to you. Reaching down I remove the paddle from your mouth as you move your jaw as you can feel the release of the weight that had been in your mouth.  And I uncuff your wrists. And you are embarrassed at the amount of saliva all over your face and go to reach up to wipe it with your cuffed hands.  I slap your hand away sharply bringing my hand back across your cheek.  And you draw a sharp intake of breath. And you look at me with pleading eyes.

And I know that you want me to hurt you.

And I know that you want to beg.

But you know how much that begging makes me want to hurt you. And when you beg to stop it just makes me want to hurt you all the more.  And you know that I don't like "fake" begging, that I don't like it when it is not genuine and real and felt. And you know that you need to convince me and that if it isn't real and felt that I will stop and walk away.

And I tell you to fucking beg.

To beg me to hurt you and then knowing that you will be soon begging me to stop. And you present your naked arse to me. Your head down near to the floor and you cry out as the wooden paddle makes contact with your bareness.

And you beg me to hurt you. Beg me to hit you harder. And the more you beg, the harder I do it. And then you are pleading, pleading for me to stop, crying with the pain. And your skin is getting redder and redder.

And your pleading is getting louder.

And you begin to cry, and the sobs are getting louder. And you don't know whether to beg to be hurt or to beg me to stop.

And I laugh at you at your confusion of what you are begging for. And tell you to beg properly. And still you don't know what you really want to beg for. I continue to paddle the cheeks of your arse, the back of your thighs and your lack of focus moves into the realms of confusion. And your begging comes out in gasps between the sobs that engulf your body.

"Fucking beg properly" I tell you. You beg over and over, "please hurt me" "please don't hurt me" and I tell you to make up your mind and for you to convince me what it is you really want, and at that point I know that you don't know what you really want.

And as you're begging I tell you that I don't believe you. That it's not enough.

And you are crying so hard, and there's saliva coming out of your mouth, and your nose is running all over the place and I reach down, bringing your eyes up to look at mine and I see that you have drifted. And your cock is hard and betrays your body. And I want to hurt you even more but know that you cannot beg to stop and you cannot beg for more. And that you are there on the floor beautifully broken.

And I bring you close into my body and I am holding you as your body is wracked with sobs.

And I'm holding you close. And I am bringing you down, stroking your head, gently pushing the hair away from your face. And I am wiping the tears that are falling from your eyes. 

And you are looking at me with more focus now.

And I continue stroking your face as your body begins to calm down and the sobs turn into sniffles as your head rests upon my breast. And your breathing slows down and becomes calmer.

And you look at me with those most beautiful eyes that you have and as I see you smile, I know that you are back. 

.