Posts tagged ‘d/s’

December 19th, 2014

The Little Things in Life

I’m finding myself in the position that I’m writing about something new I have found out about myself again.  I suppose this is what goes on in life, constant changing, evolving, learning about out ourselves.  Sometimes I think it’s really strange for my kinks to be like that but I think some of it is the people I am involved with.  Each one brings out something new, each one adds something different to my life.  I get to explore in a safe space and sometimes find something I don’t expect.  That’s where this post comes in.

I never thought I was someone with a little.  I occasionally did role play (maybe that needs to happen again!?) but it was never a real age thing.  I might play the younger girl but I was always really me.  I didn’t think there was anyone else.  I was wrong.  I have an inner child that I actually seem to be able to let out a little.  Not much, and she doesn’t take over completely.  I don’t know whether she ever will but I’m definitely letting her have her moments more.  She seems to be about 10, I think, although she’s sometimes more like a very naive and young 15.  She loves being cute and pretty, likes to play with Lego, to colour in pretty things and watch Adventure Time.  She’s silly, a little bratty but never too much.  Deep down, she’s like me, a good girl who doesn’t want to get into trouble, who would rather be praised than told off.  She generally just wants to drink hot chocolate and be looked after, to feel safe.  That’s all I know right now.  I’m scared to let her out too much.  She likes E but I don’t know how she sees him.  I really don’t know how she fits into E’s life!

Ok, this might be starting to sound a little weird to people, the fact I talk about my little as a different person.  Well, she kind of is and isn’t.  It’s obvious that she’s me but, at the same time, it’s not my adult head in there.  Or it wouldn’t be at all if I let go, gave her a little more freedom.  That’s something very new for me.  To realise that I do have this little, that she’s not just me acting a role.  This is something I actually feel is part of me.  She scares me sometimes.  I don’t know whether to ever let her out fully.  That is also a thing I need to work out with E.  I need to know she (and I) would be safe, which I do but I also don’t want him to be a non-consenting babysitter!  It’s probably hard enough as it is, especially when she pops up.

I suppose this is more me wondering what to do with a kink/dynamic/thing I didn’t expect, that I didn’t negotiate with my partner.  Obviously, communication is key, just like when I started to feel my submissive side coming out with S.  It’s just so hard when you barely get it yourself and you don’t know where things will take you.  All the fun of evolving, of changing, of growing; you never know exactly where you will end up, you just hope you have someone to share your journey with.

July 13th, 2014

Pain

I promise there will be some more smut in the near future, rather than all this rambling on about my feelings and stuff but sometimes I feel this is a good place for me to talk about what is going on in my head as I know people can often relate.

I recently wrote about inadequacy and how I end up comparing myself with people when I top and not feeling good enough.  I talked about my feelings as a bottom and how it’s rare for me to do that same kind of comparison but I found myself thinking like that on Saturday night and it got me thinking about pain during play quite a lot, including talking to E about how I’m needing to play a little differently at the moment.

It started out on Friday.  At Lash, a couple were playing really hard, harder than I think I’ve seen anyone play for quite a while and for quite a long scene too.  I remarked that it was making me wince, feeling that there was no way I could take what the bottom was taking.  The thing is, I have done.  I did two videos that I am taking a lot in and I have taken some violent canings in my time too.  I can still take a good kicking (as I proved on Friday but that’s another story) even.  Thinking of those videos, of some scenes from about a year ago, I look back and don’t see the same person.  I can’t even believe that I could do those scenes and enjoy them as much as I know I did.  I went through a period for being a heavy masochist; probably more that than submissive at the time.

I didn’t think much of it until we played a little on Saturday night.  It was a flogging scene and I’d talked about needing a good warm up.  I ended up crying my eyes out, my tears getting worse at the fact that I was crying (silly, I know).   I actually don’t always have a problem crying during play but this didn’t feel like release or the kind of time that I wanted to be crying because of the pain.    I was struggling a lot more than I wanted to be, than I felt I should be, than I know I normally do.  I felt silly, less like a masochist than ever and frustrated as hell at myself for not taking the pain well.  E is so used to me warming up so much quicker that it caught him off guard and he started again, easing me in better.  It doesn’t help that he is a dacryphiliac either! It was a good scene and let me talk about my pain thing that’s going on right now, plus I got my own back later!

I do find it interesting that my pain threshold, especially for certain types of pain, has changed so much.  Or at least my perception of it has.  E insists (with witnesses) that he actually hits really damn hard anyway and that it’s not that I have no pain threshold.  There is a definite shift in my tolerance right now, though, and it still surprises me everytime it happens.  Currently, I feel my identity as a masochist is slipping away a bit and I’m actually quite sad at that.  Maybe it’s just because of the type of play I’ve been doing recently, maybe it’s because, much as I see myself as mainly a bottom, I have actually rarely bottomed to anyone other than E in the last year and we now have such a strong D/s dynamic that I can’t always remove that frame of mind from my subconscious.  I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s the time of the month, a change in my medications, something else entirely or a combination of any of them.  I know that I will learn to love pain again and I will stop feeling like a whimp.  And, in the meantime, I can play around at see how to ease this.  Or let E enjoy making me cry from the physical pain for once!

March 8th, 2014

Secretary

I decided to watch the film Secretary again last night.  It’s been a while since I last watched it all of the way through and meant that I was watching through a different pair of eyes again.  This film has a lot of importance to me; not only is it a very accessible film to do with BDSM, D/s dynamics and features the ever gorgeous Maggie Gyllenhaal but it was also in watching this that I first became aware of my identity as a submissive.

When I first watched Secretary, probably about 10 years ago, I loved it.  It had a girl I could lust over and identify with, at least a little, and it was affirming: kink existed outside of my little bubble.  I did already know this; I’d attended Erotica exhibition and went to Kinkfest 2 but to have something so mainstream, so watchable, so talked about, out there was a big deal to the younger me.  It still is one of my reasons for loving this film.  As I’ve talked about before, I didn’t really see myself as submissive when I was younger so I could only really observe the story from an abstract point of view, although I could at least empathise with Lee’s mental health condition and self-harm.  I know how much of a struggle that is and finding someone to help ease that pain is a wonderful thing. 

The last time I can properly remember watching Secretary properly was with S.  It was when we were away for a post-Conference rest at a hotel with the biggest bed I have ever slept in!  I remember it clearly as I found myself struggling with how it stirred my emotions and thoughts, how it made me realise certain things about myself.  In watching the film at that moment, I managed to understand the feelings I’d had for S, in wanting to be the best I could for her, in wanting to give myself to her completely, in wanting to do anything she desired.  In that moment, I finally saw myself as a submissive.  Not submissive all the time and for anyone but for S.  I was her submissive.  I got upset.  I didn’t fully understand how I could feel like this, the girl who insisted she wasn’t a sub.  S hadn’t signed up for this.  She didn’t see herself as a dominant.  It was probably one of the scariest but amazing moments, realising so much about myself as a person from one film.

Now, getting on for three years later, I watch the film from a very different place, both emotionally and physically.  I was on my own, treating myself to a well deserved night in being kind to myself.  My relationships have vastly changed in this time, although I still identify as a submissive, but to E now.  Another unexpected relationship, another unexpected dynamic.  Watching the film, I see all of the subtle hints to high protocol; the hand gestures, the unquestioning nature of Lee, the emphasis on certain words and phrases.  I see all of this and smile, knowing what it is like to be like that.  I even understand more fully the use of kink and D/s in dealing with mental health issues, myself knowing that it helps ground me, helps me get through rough patches, by being cared for, looked after and, above all, having control “taken” away from me.  In fact, as many people realise, submission is never about having control taken from you but the submissive giving that control up, offering that to their dominants.  At the same time, I can see how I have grown, how things have changed.  I hope it’s for the better and I can have more healthy D/s relationships now.  I look at the film and, obviously, in the beginning, the relationship isn’t healthy.  No negotiation, no consent, no communication.  I’ve always tried to do better than that.  It’s not just that though.  I don’t know whether it’s just because I switch with E or whether it’s my take on D/s or just a slightly different dynamic but I don’t have exactly the same need to be my absolute best all of the time.  I don’t feel I need to prove myself as much.  Of course, when I am in sub mode, I want to do my best for E, show him just how good I can be but it doesn’t eek out into my everyday life as much.  In the moment, I am still his, still giving myself completely, still willing to do almost anything but I definitely don’t end up feeling that all of the time and I know that is better for me now.  Much as there is a romantic notion of 24/7 D/s that I love, I know that it’s not for me.  I am too much of a switch, way too stubborn and far too independent.  I could never give up control all of the time and I would never want to.

November 13th, 2013

Submission and Collars

Collar

I’m a strange one, I suppose.  It took me a long time to accept my submission but, even when I did, I didn’t really understand the collaring thing, beyond it being a sign of ownership, something that I really didn’t want.  I’d owned a few collars as fashion accessories but nothing more. My opinion of it slowly changed, realising the connection I would get when S placed a collar around my neck, the nakedness I would feel without it.  Still, the collar I wore
actually belonged to me.  I did not wear her collar but my own.  When we had the uncollaring ceremony, I took the collar back but I decided that I didn’t want it giving to me directly; I wasn’t in a place emotionally to take it.  So E was with me and took it, as I trusted him to have my D/s interests and happiness at heart.  At the time, he was just a close friend and I wanted him and needed him to look out for me.

When we started playing more seriously and a D/s element crept in, it seemed like a logical and natural thing for him to place my old collar around my neck.  Collars and cuffs made me feel safe, loved, protected.  The Girl wears his permanent, locked collar but I know that’s just not something I could ever do; I’m too much of a switch for something like that.  My old collar was working out fine, most of the time, but it would get uncomfortable after a little while but I just couldn’t see myself getting another one though.  E talked of buying one for me but a few things happened and that saved me the conversation that would seem a little off for a submissive girl to be having.  The thing is, I can power exchange and give myself up in the moment.  I can submit, trust someone with everything and yet I cannot give up that teeny, tiny last bit of control.  I need to be in control, even if that does just mean that the collar that goes around my neck is one that I choose to let someone use on me.

We chose together and I even had it posted to him.  He brought it over and slipped it around my neck, padlocking it for extra effect.  It fits so well; wide enough to feel a little restrictive but comfy enough to wear for hours.  It matches the cuffs he owns already.  It feels beautiful, it smells lovely and it really is mine.  But it’s also a symbol when I wear it that he is looking after me, he is caring for me, he is in control.  I have chosen to give him that and that is what makes this collar so special now.  It may still belong to me but it was bought very much to show who I have given myself to, in that moment and it makes me feel safe and protected.  Plus, it is very pretty.  I’ve always loved wearing a collar but this is the first that has made me feel quite like this.

March 8th, 2013

The Exhibition

I wait for her to arrive. I’m dressed in a corset and heels, cleavage on show. My lips are painted deep red, seams run up the backs of my legs, hair pulled back. I feel confident and in charge.

When I see her, I can’t help but smile. She’s followed my orders and looks exactly how I wanted her to. There’s one thing missing though. I watch as she walks over to me and wordlessly bows her head I slip the soft leather collar around her neck, catching a hint of its delightful smell. I fasten it gently and guide her to look up at me, caressing her check, feeling so powerful.

“You look beautiful and I am proud to call you mine”
“Thank you, Miss” barely a whisper

I plant a tender kiss on her lips and lead the to the stage. The spanking bench is waiting and, will a gesture, she bends herself over it. I tighten the restraints around her wrists and stroke her hair, making sure she is ready. I feel her body relax. As I pull on my gloves, I let her smell the leather, seeing her melt and relax further.

I admire the sight of her arse, presented to me, presented to everyone. A warm up to start, well paced, building up, alternating checks, loving the feel of spanking her, the sound of impact, the aching of her back. I lower her knickers to expose her pale flesh, smiling to myself as I think about how unblemished it is. More gloved slaps, getting harder and faster and still she is silent. I pull off a glove and alternate using my hands until I find myself just using the unshielded one. The feel of the sting when my hand makes contact with bars skin. She’s not been able to stay completely silent and now I know she’s ready.

“Everyone is here to watch him you, to see the marks made on your body, to hear you scream”

She looks at me, pleading with her eyes, but I turn away to reach for the first cane, medium weight, rattan. I start off slowly, lightly tapping to get a feel of the cane. Small moans and yelps follow as I increase the strength of my whipping, working through the canes from thuddy to stingy, natural and man made, flexible and rigid. Her skin glows a beautiful shade of pink, a smattering of marks but not enough yet.

I pick up the final cane. I pass it in front of her eyes and she starts to protest. It’s the stingiest one, whippy and mean and she knows I will use it hard. Loudly enough for the room to hear, I address her,

“I want you to count in batches of 6, clearly, for everyone to hear just how hard this is for you.”

She nods and I begin swiping the cane across her backside, making contact and waiting for her reaction. A repressed yelp, a gasping breathing, a defiant count. Again, the stick meets her skin, harder. Her reaction is louder but still, a hint of defiance. I will break her. My blows continue, some devilishly hard, others so quick in procession that she can barely count. She’s struggling now, the numbers catching in her throat.

I will make this set my last, put everything in have into it. The first breaks the silence with her cry, the welt on her skin visible almost instantly. By the 4th, she is counting through sobs, still determined. When the set is over, I caress her skin,  hand skimming over red marks, making her gasp out. Beautiful lines blossoming on her body. My hand wanders between her legs and I am surprised by her obvious arousal.

As I brush over her cunt, an entirely different moan escapes. She’s forgotten where we are. Gently, I tease her, stroking, prodding, pulling back. Her moans increase, getting louder, more desperate, her body aching into me. A hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her sharply back as my other fingers thrust into her. Another scream, of shock, pain, pleasure.  I finger fuck her fast and hard, until I can feel her body contacting, legs shaking, moans climaxing.

A gentle touch, the careful unrestraining,  the stroking if hair, bringing her back. A kiss on her forehead

“Well done, my good little girl. You have made a lot of people happy tonight. They enjoyed being witness to both your pain AND pleasure.”

A bashful look, a blush on her cheeks.

“I am proud of you, my good girl. You did well” Her smile says it all; now when to show off my girl again?

August 18th, 2011

The Art of Collaring

Collars have been playing on my mind a lot recently.  They’ve been a feature of the news, prompting an interesting post by Not an Odalisque but my mind has been thinking about them in a slightly different way, with thoughts jumbling and tumbling around, what with everything else going on in my life.

You may remember my post where I talked about my own submission.  Our dynamic is growing, adapting, changing and being explored.  One aspect of this came up a few weeks ago.  During a scene, S slipped a collar round my neck.  It wasn’t the first time I’d ever worn one, having been a teenage rebel (ha!), wearing them as a fashion statement (ha!), plus I also own a very nice leather posture collar but this was different.  The intention was different.

Feeling the collar encircle my neck, S’s caring and sadistic hands securing it.  The pleased look on her face.  I made no move to take it off until morning, feeling strangely content at having worn it all night, naked to the world except for it.  I actually felt some level of regret at having to take it off in the morning before going on my way to work. 

I don’t think I see the collar in the same way as some.  It isn’t a necessary symbol of our relationship and I don’t feel that to get into my submissive headspace that I have to wear it but to have S tenderly fix my collar in place does help me to connect to her.  I know some of it is less about the collar and more about the physical connection it brings in the act of having it put on and taken off me but there’s also something else.  The other week, S decided that she didn’t want me to take it off when we went out.  We were going to a munch and the SMDykes meeting anyway so it wasn’t exactly a problem with the company we keep and there was a small part of me that liked advertising our relationship to the ‘world’.  A constant reminder over those hours that I am hers.  Extending the moments, prompting more than a little reminder at the back of my mind. 

Again and again, my thoughts and feelings are disjointed and not fully formed.  I think dynamic is a brilliant word to use to talk about our d/s (and s/m) relationship.  It suggests fluidity and evolution and adaptation.  Nothing’s set in concrete whilst we learn to work with new feelings, different emotions.  I am enjoying exploring this side of me, a side I wasn’t sure I had.  But one thing is sure to me right now, that the act of placing that collar round my neck is sure to bring shivers down my spine, not through the cold but through the thoughts the start running through my head.


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