Category Archives: trust

Musings on what I like: actually submissive submissives

Logically, I know that not everyone will be attracted to what I’m attracted to. I’ve always acknowledged that I don’t really go for the stereotypically attractive men. I like slight men. Short. Wiry. Pretty. Submissive. While I can be attracted to men that the world might identify as “alpha,” (not that I personally care for that particular term) it’s much easier for me to be attracted to men who most would not label as alpha, leader, etc. It isn’t that I don’t like a man with his own personality. Or that inner strength. On the contrary, I appreciate a man who is unafraid to be whoever he is. But I have a special sweet spot in my heart for men who are unabashedly, whole heartedly, fearlessly submissive.

One who can embrace his desire to hand over authority to me. One who wants to do things that make me happy. One who embraces the part of himself that revels in making my life more pleasurable. I have sometimes worried that my style of dominance doesn’t resonate as dominant to many people. I don’t really want to deal with someone who won’t willingly hand over authority once he knows I’m trustworthy. I also refuse to act dominantly before I consent to it. Which can also be a potential turn-off to potential submissives. But when it works, it’s brilliant.

That fearlessly submissive man who clicks with me empowers me to look at my own desires and make them known to him. To expect that he will do the things I ask him to do. To find my nurturing side, which can only express itself through my ability to be the dominant partner. Because that does seem to be the only way it will come to the fore with me. If he isn’t submitting to my authority, taking care of my most basic of needs… then my desire to nurture is basically nonexistent. It isn’t that I don’t care about someone who isn’t submitting to me. I can and have. But there’s caring, and there’s the desire to nurture and help him be the absolute best he can be.

And that only seems to come out once I am confident in his joyous submission to me.

Advertisements

Daydreaming

In my perfect world…

I live in a relatively peaceful and joyous household with two gorgeous, loving, submissive men who are friends & who adore me. We have our good days and bad days as humans do, but we are all dedicated to being together for the long haul. We all want to be in the same auto, on the same journey, with me at the wheel. They agree that I will be able to do as I please with them sexually & with their bodies in general. I agree not to disregard their hard limits. They agree that unless there is some extremely compelling reason (such as loss of life, limb, or liberty), they will do things my way. I will not give them useless tasks or busy work just because I can. They will strive to make my life easier and more pleasurable. I will communicate clearly what I expect of them in order that they can make my life easier and more pleasurable. Because they are putting their trust in me, I will strive to make the best decisions for all of us. They will strive to abide by my decisions with grace. I will strive to take suggestions and criticism with grace.

30 Days of Kink: Days 1 – 5

Day 1: Dom, sub, switch? What parts of BDSM interest you? Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.

I am a sadistic dominant and a fetishist. I don’t have any interest in switching, submitting, receiving pain or being in bondage. I also identify as an owner more than a master, mistress, domme, or goddess. I also appreciate service. It’s a rough combination. Ideally I seek  masochist service submissives who are fans of latex and other fetish clothing. You might think these men are around every street corner. I promise you they aren’t. And on top of that, I really need someone who can submit to me on a 24/7 basis. It doesn’t have to be TPE, but it does need to be an integral part of his everyday life to submit to me. So, in short, I’m interested in bondage, dominance, sadism, fetishism, and service. I’m not sure that’s terribly in-depth or interesting, but it’s what I seek when I seek partners.

Day 2: List your kinks

There are way too many specific ways I like to express my kinks. Things like whips and chains and needles. However, I’d say all the activities that I do are expressions my actual kinks. I kink on vulnerability, helplessness, trust, intimacy, and reactions.

Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?

Entirely by chance. I had some friends that were kinky and they shared that fact with me. Before that, I had a lot of bad sex and frustrating relationships.

Day 4: Any early experiences that, in retrospect, hint at your kinks?

As I’m an old codger, it’s difficult to remember back that far sometimes. I will say that I rarely found things disturbing or scary that other children did. I merely found them interesting. But that could also just be my natural tendency to be curious. I did see a movie involving cutting and blood as a child that I’m fairly certain influenced my current love of bloodplay. So perhaps I should have known. But I didn’t.

Day 5: What was your first kinky sexual experience?

My first experience was trying to be a good submissive. So it was interesting to say the least. And that pales in comparison to my first sexual experience as a sadist. I picked up a flogger and hit a willing bottom with it a few times. It was electric, exciting, satisfying in ways I had never even dreamed of. There was no other contact. Nobody was naked. It was, to all appearances, quite innocent. But for me it was a sexual revelation. All the joy in my sexual life has unfolded from that single moment.

This is my life: Silent Witness

This moment. You and I and the rope and the music on the stereo. Black cotton sheets under your body become the dark matter of the universe.

Moments become years. The beat of the music is the sound of atoms colliding. Our bodies intertwining like a helix, we are reflection and creation.

Years are eons. I surround you as you bare yourself to me, and we are one thought, one feeling, one motion. We raise our voice in whispered songs as the galaxy stops to listen.

Time loses itself in us. Our passion spirals out into the nothingness, becoming everything. All that is and was and shall be pauses, breathes with us, and moves as one.

 

 

(Yes, this was my weekend experience. Sometimes he’s so beautiful I have no words. And sometimes I do.)

This is my life: Saturday

He was lounging on the table so casually. Naked. Unselfconscious. Relaxed. Humming along to the music I had playing. He looked so incredibly inviting. I could hardly wait to begin. But I wanted to take this moment to admire his casual grace. He saw me notice him and smiled. It only served to increase his charm. I told him how relaxed he looked and he made a joke about lounging on pianos and singing to me. It was sweet and funny and it ended the moment enough for me to want to start tying him up.

I tied him around the waist and down each leg. I needed to tie him to the table, but wanted to have something prettier and more extensive than simply tying his ankles to the legs of the table. He loves when I’m creative with rope. He preened in the rope and looked so happy. I had him lay down on the table so I could tie his arms to the front table legs. I wanted to give him enough play to reach me if he needed to touch my skin for comfort. Or to shift his shoulders. I planned to be very mean to one of them.

I cleaned my hands, I cleaned him. He looked quite relaxed and peaceful. I knew it wouldn’t last. The first needle. It was smaller than the last time I did needles with him, but I knew it would be harder. I slid the needle in. All of it. I buried the whole metallic length under his skin. He might have thought he was prepared for it. I’d told him what I had planned. He wasn’t prepared. He wailed. I smiled. I’d known it would be much more challenging. I also knew he could handle it.

And he did. Needle after needle. Some of them directly on top of each other. Some crisscrossing other needles. Some on their own. I put them in one after the next. He made such beautiful noises. He tensed his muscles. He grabbed my legs for support and comfort. He cried. I love when he cries. Then it was done. They were all in. I looked at him, bound and bleeding on my table. His adorable perky ass cheeks were framed beautifully by the ropes. I started spanking him.

He was caught completely by surprise. Unprepared for this new and different pain. It was magnified by the pain of the needles in his back every time his body tensed. I spanked and cropped and hit his beautiful bottom until he was breathless. Until it was bright red. He was crying again in great heaving gasps. I stopped and rubbed his lower back and arms as he reached for me, craving the touch of my skin as much as he could get. I comforted him with pets and skin while he cried.

Then it was time to pull out the needles. I was kind with a few of them, pulling them straight out singly. But it’s not my nature to be kind during a bloodplay scene. The rest I twisted, turned, pulled them out in pairs and groups. He screamed. It’s probably worse than when they are going in. Just when it seems like the pain will be over, it isn’t. But then they were all out. All gone. And he lay bleeding and sobbing on the table. I untied his hands and climbed up on the table so I could hold him gently. I love to hold him as he cries in my embrace. I love how he suffers so beautifully. I love how he trusts me enough to give his body to my ministrations fearlessly.

Doing it wrong: I am not a supermodel

 

 

So… I just want to go on record as saying that I don’t look like this.the fantasy

 

Or this.

fantasy_dom2

I don’t.

I love the boots and shoes and shiny “Dominatrix uniform” kind of clothes. So I wear them even though I don’t look like this. I have repeatedly… REPEATEDLY heard about how you have to look a certain way in order to even think about wearing thigh high boots or latex or to let your body show. Usually I hear it when I’m in jeans and a sweater. Because they’ve forgotten that I’m a latex fetishist who doesn’t look like a supermodel. I hear it from men and women. I hear people say it about themselves… “Oh I could never wear that because I’m too big.” It makes me sad. It makes me angry.

I hate that we live in a world where people can’t even wear clothing that they want to wear for fear that people will laugh at them. Or make snide comments behind their back. I hate that people hate their own bodies enough to deny themselves the freedom to wear what they like. I hate that people fear being naked with each other. I hate that people who don’t look like movie stars and supermodels are afraid to let other people touch them because of some perceived imperfection.

Fuck that. I wear latex. And thigh high boots. And I refuse to feel bad about it. I show up to the beach, and I don’t wear shorts or a mumu. I wear a bikini. And if people don’t want to see my big fat ass, then they can always look elsewhere. I wear sandals without painted toes. I sit naked on top of my gorgeous muscular submissives and let them see me and touch my beautiful body. (One of them is particularly fond of touching my belly whenever he can get his hands on it.) I want them to see me and touch me just as I want to see and touch them. If we can’t be naked with our lovers and enjoy each other’s bodies then with whom can we be that vulnerable and unfettered. Intimacy. I can’t imagine my life without it. Or without my official “Dominatrix uniforms.”

Musings on being selfish and lazy

From a writing by Raven Kaldera on Fetlife:

You can imagine what my slave thought of this mindset. It drove him crazy. “Why are you doing this?” he would yell at me. “Do you think it’s benefiting me? Well, it’s not! I am in no way better for it! I’m just as frustrated as you are, and no better off! Don’t try to justify it because you think it’s helping me!” He would beg me, again and again, to be more selfish. Please, I want to give this to you. I see how hungry you are for it, how you starve yourself. I want to be the one who can give this to you. I want to be the one to whom you can say, “Shut up, bitch,” and I don’t mind at all. I want to be the one who will give up the last of my precious lo mein for you just because you want it, who will inconvenience themselves again and again on your whim. I want to believe I’m sturdy enough to take it. It will feed me to feed this part of you.

The discussion is about being able to be selfish. For a very long time, I’ve struggled with receiving service. Partially, this is because the Husband struggles with service. Or he used to. If I defined something as “service” then he balked or refused. That meant that I couldn’t label anything as service and I also couldn’t ask for many of the things I wanted to ask for. And on the occasions I was able to insinuate or suggest that I might like for him to do this thing… you know… if he had nothing better to do right now… his non-kinky-play-related service was largely contingent on my doing something else that he found worthwhile during the time he was cooking/cleaning/serving. So wiping down the kitchen counters while he cleans the toilet? Ok. Setting up for a scene while he folds the laundry? Maybe. Taking a nap while he mops the floor? Probably not. Playing a video game while he mows the lawn? Definitely not ok. Now, I know not everyone is a service submissive. That’s fine. But I also kept wanting to ask for things. So I started to think I either needed a service submissive or I started to doubt my own dominance since I wasn’t asking for things I wanted. It was complicated, and I’m beyond happy that situation has changed.

But to say I had a complicated relationship with service of any kind was an understatement. (Except for house cleaning or yard care because those are things I just really despise.)

I also know I can be selfish and lazy. Very selfish and lazy. And I struggled with finding some kind of acceptable (in my own head) balance between being completely selfish/lazy and not being able to expect that my submissive will do the things I ask for. So when I read Raven Kaldera’s slave’s reaction to his lack of selfishness… it practically made me want to jump up and down shouting, “This!!! This is what I crave!” I want someone who knows I can be extremely selfish. I want someone who will get up from what they are doing to go pour me a drink just because I want him to and I’m thirsty. Someone who will give me the last of his lo mein because I want it. Someone who wants to be inconvenienced for my desires. Because sometimes my desires are inconveniences. I want it to feed something in him. Something that will make him feel stronger or better or happier for having done these things for me. I want someone who is thrilled beyond words that I can be selfish and lazy. Someone for whom it goes beyond letting him do things he thinks I might like or want. Someone I can ask to be giving and industrious on my behalf.