Tag 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.

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This is my life: A night like any other

We had been together for several days already. There had been opportunities, but I’d passed them up. It didn’t seem quite the moment. He was not in his usual happy mood. I was waiting. I had him do some cooking, which usually cheers him up. It seemed to bring back some of his usual cheerful demeanor, but it didn’t last. I had given him some chores. That helped temporarily as well. He even asked if there was more he could do. But eventually, I was tired of waiting for that perfect moment.

I stripped him. I bound him. I started biting and flogging him. He began crying with the flogging. I had been expecting that. He’d been in a melancholy mood. His emotions close to the surface. I soon gave up the flogger for the whips. I began to hurt him in earnest. He sobbed. I put a towel down at his feet so he could drool, spit, sputter, anything. And he did. I gave him tissues and sips of water. I continued to whip him til his legs were collapsing and his back was bloody.

As his legs gave out, it was starting to pull on his wrists. His arms stretched overhead to their limit. So I took the cuffs off. And kept going. I placed my foot near his hand so he could touch me if he wanted to. Or needed to. He did. Eventually I decided he’d had enough. He was sobbing on the ground in a small pile of beautiful, bloody, submissive flesh. I put the whip down and laid on the ground beside him. He reached for me with a sweet desperation. I probably shouldn’t love that. But I do. It’s one of my favorite parts of our play. He needs to feel me. Feel me surrounding him with my arms and my acceptance and my love. He needs it like air. And I love him all the more for his unabashed neediness.

This time was different though. His sobbing was less heaving and more choking tears. It felt different to me as well. I asked him about it and my suspicions were confirmed. He didn’t experience the same moving kind of catharsis he usually does when I whip him that hard. I was hoping for that catharsis for him. That letting go and purging of emotions. But it doesn’t seem to work that way for him. Actually, it’s never worked that way for anyone I’ve played with. I begin to wonder if that “I will beat you because you need to let go!” is just a myth. I think the thing that helped the most was our being together. But maybe his being able to serve me by cooking, cleaning, and meeting my sadistic needs was more help than I think. I’ll have to ask him after more time has passed and he has some distance from it.

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.

Musings of a lonely evening

This morning I was half asleep as I staggered to the bathroom at a very unfortunate hour. Note to self: less water before bed. But that is beside the point. I was groggily making my way back to bed, and was confused. Why was it empty? I half pondered this as I fell back into bed and went back to sleep. Then as I was waking up to start my day, I rolled over.

And was sorely disappointed. No warm body on the other side waiting for permission to snuggle. Waiting for me to wrap him up in my arms. Nobody to keep my spot warm if I have to stagger off to the bathroom again. No one to to nuzzle and put where it’s most comfortable and snuggly for me. I was surprisingly shocked to be alone in the bed.

This was quite the odd experience for me. I usually prefer lots of room to sprawl in the bed. Other people frequently just get in the way of my comfort. I would prefer to sleep alone. It’s a testament to him that I missed him in the wee hours of my sleep-hazed morning. I desired his presence not only in my home, my space. But in my bed. Which is my sanctuary. Normally I dislike having anyone in my most personal space other than the Husband. Somehow the Wild Thing has managed to sidle past all my usual walls and solitary nature.