the many faces of thanks

Not too long ago, I spent part of a weekend with a group of leatherfolk. Part of the agreed-upon deal was that one person’s boy was in service to the entire group for the duration of our time together.

This boy was a master at his craft. His service was seamless. I had only to shiver, and a jacket would appear. Drinks were refilled as if by magic. He was respectful and yet warm, friendly but unobtrusive. And this wasn’t about any existing knowledge of our preferences or needs; he was just extremely observant and took initiative when appropriate. Really, I was thoroughly impressed. When our time together ended, I made a point of mentioning to him and to his dominant that I really appreciated the quality of his service.

The boy mentioned that none of the others had said anything about it. Nobody else had thanked him.

Now, he wasn’t bitter about it; in fact, he was quite philosophical. No grouchy-pants here. But his remark really got me thinking.

Sometimes, the whole point of good service is to be invisible. Many service-oriented types strive to anticipate, to meet needs before a dominant actually even knows those needs exist. And in many of those cases, the proof of having achieved the quality that they’re striving for is precisely that the dominant doesn’t notice what’s happening. They only see the results, and sometimes those results are simply as expected. “I’d like to wear my white shirt tomorrow” is a simple request. Sometimes that might mean taking the shirt out of the closet. Other times, that might mean laundering it in a complex ritual of products and timings to get that awful stain out, washing it, drying it, ironing it and sewing back on the button that popped off last week, and then crossing town to get it to the dominant’s door in time for work the next day. For some submissives, their satisfaction with their own work lies in the assurance that a request will be met regardless of whether it’s easy or hard. Sometimes, it’s the very the fact of a task being difficult or complex or exacting that makes it so satisfying. And the height of satisfaction sometimes occurs when the results are assumed (by the dominant) and delivered (by the submissive), no questions asked, no explanations given.

A dominant’s assumption of good service can be an indication of deep trust in the submissive’s abilities; a dominant’s lack of explicit verbal direction can in fact be a highly evolved form of non-verbal communication. A slight pause, a raised eyebrow, a glance – these things can convey eloquent messages and the submissive’s understanding and response is effectively their part of the fluid, beautiful, elegant and harmonious dance that is D/s. And even when that’s not happening, the sheer satisfaction of being so damn good that you know what someone needs before they even have time to think of it can be pretty powerful – as can the satisfaction of rendering a service to a community by means of easing the work of some of its members, even when there’s no direct interest in those members as individuals per se. In short, sometimes effectively taking a submissive for granted, or being taken for granted as a submissive, is the turn-on. It is the reward. It is, paradoxically, the thank-you and the recognition.

On the flip side, sometimes being taken for granted sucks. Sometimes it just means there’s an arrogant dominant (or two, or five, or ten) who assumes they’re entitled to being waited upon hand and foot and feels no need to say thanks or recognize a job well done. Sometimes it means the submissive pours out their energy and skill to make magic happen, and they go home drained and empty and dissatisfied because nobody noticed all their hard work or held up the dominant end of the “fluid, harmonious dance” bargain – they simply took the goodies and ignored the person behind them. And worse still, I know submissives who would feel guilty, who would feel like they were not “submissive enough” or not like a “real” or “true” submissive, simply for daring to want that recognition. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this makes them doormats; it doesn’t. It makes them people who operate on a service-oriented paradigm that simply does not line up with mainstream society’s understanding of how relationships work. That doesn’t mean such folks always operate in perfect emotional health; certainly destructive patterns can come along with this mindset. But it’s not unhealthy by definition. It’s just not a perfect pairing with someone who’s not willing or able to hold their part in the dance.

Ah, the question of pairing. In leather community, we know and interact with people who are openly and proudly service-oriented more than we’re likely to in mundane society. But many leatherfolk have personalities and relationship paradigms that have nothing to do with receiving or giving service or submission. In addition to that, there’s a numbers problem going on. To make a long story short, whereas I have yet to encounter someone who can explain the reasons for this to my satisfaction, it’s a fairly established fact that in most segments of the community, bottoms – including submissive and service-oriented folks – outnumber tops by a fairly large margin. So there aren’t enough dominants for all the submissives out there. And of the dominants that exist, not all of them have any inkling of how to appropriately respond to or receive service. So even though dominants who know what to do with service do exist, there aren’t enough of them to go around.  As a result, many service-oriented people have a hard time finding satisfying relationships, through the leather community, into which they can channel their desire for service.

So what do they do? They combine leather community (the community that is friendly to their kink) and service (the kink in question) the best way they know how: they volunteer.

And they volunteer, and volunteer, and volunteer. They’re the first in line to do the thankless clean-up shift after the party. They’ll get up at an ungodly hour to drive a visiting presenter to the airport, or shop for weeks for the most hard-to-find of party decorations, or lift heavy objects that nobody else will attempt to move. These people often end up being the backbone of the community – the people without whom shit just wouldn’t get done. But because they often operate in a mindset that precludes asking for thanks, and because not everyone realizes what’s going on or knows how to hold up their end of the paradigmatic bargain, these folks are often the ones we forget to thank.

In a sense, on a micro level we’ve got a problem with individual dominants or groups of dominants who don’t handle service well, and on the macro level we’ve got a problem with an entire community that doesn’t handle the service of its members well. We can blow this up well beyond the question of submission – all volunteering is a form of service, whether you’re a dominant or a submissive or a switch or a puppy or a fetishist or a sensation player or whatever else. Some groups and people do a great job of recognizing and rewarding or thanking volunteers; some, not so much. Some groups guilt their members into helping out, or criticize the volunteers without taking the time to understand what’s going on or offering to help out, or rely on the same people for eons without ever offering to pitch in and lighten the load.

Now, I’m an optimist, but I don’t expect this to change anytime soon across the board. I’d love to see a community populated exclusively by wonderful, self-aware, kind, appreciative people who don’t ever make drama or get bent out of shape about things, and who put their time and effort into community-building rather than being do-me queens who just expect to show up and be entertained. I hold no illusions that this community exists, at least not in perfect form. I do know from experience, however, that the proportion of “good” people to “bad” ones can radically shift depending on a variety of factors, not the least of which is the personality and principles of the leaders. This can make for some amazing and wonderful experiences, as much as it can make for frighteningly dysfunctional ones.

I think it’s just important to recognize, across the board, that nothing is given for free. Everyone has a motivation for what they do, and when we happen to benefit from the results of others’ efforts, the best thing we can do in return is figure out what form of recognition suits them best. Sometimes that means a fanfare and a plaque. Sometimes it means a faintly pleased nod. Sometimes it’s the inner satisfaction of anonymity and the knowledge of service well rendered or a good deed done. And it can run the gamut between the extremes, and many other places to boot. Let’s just not make the mistake of thinking those forms of reward are one and the same, or that anyone’s entitled to benefit without cost (however small or easy to pay), or that anyone truly wants nothing at all in return for what they do. So when we’re so lucky as to be on the receiving end of a benefit, whether it’s a magically filled drink or a fantastic weekend-long leather event, it behooves us to find out what would constitute fitting thanks, and to provide that thanks to the best of our abilities.

[Via http://sexgeek.wordpress.com]

Happy Thanksgiving

I hope this finds all of my readers happy and healthy. I love to cook and I love spending time with my family. Gods Thanksgiving is an awesome holiday. A little turkey, some ham, some scratch gravy, mashed potatoes with more butter than cream, peas with leaks, caramel apple pie, turtle fudge and a splendid dose of spirits.

I am thankful for friends, family, a good job, Master, soft restraints, bondage rope, candle wax, floggers, good men who love me, screaming orgasms and having enough of everything I need.

[Via http://bbwneedsitnow.wordpress.com]

Point of No Return

I’m in uncharted territory here.  I love to write, and I love to journal.  Today, though, I find myself at a complete loss for words.  Madam P seems to have crossed a threshold.  Yesterday’s slave training exercise felt a lot like “experimenting with the lifestyle” got left behind, and “living the lifestyle” began in earnest.

I’ve never felt what I’m feeling today.  I’m having a great deal of difficulty putting words to what’s happening inside my slave-heart.  Madam P reached me at the core of who I was born to be, reached me at a level that I didn’t even know existed.  Last night, Madam took possession of my soul; Madam used love, and she used complete domination and abandoned playfulness, and she drew out my inner being, my inner child… Madam won over my inner child.  My inner child has never trusted another human being… until now.

I’ve been topped before.  And I’ve surrendered before.  But I’ve never been lovingly possessed, truly possessed, until now.

Madam took me in hand last night.  She stripped me naked, placed shackles on my wrists and ankles, and earplugs in my ears.  I was placed in my cage, wrists secured to the bars above my head, chain attached to my collar, threaded through the shackles around my crossed ankles, and secured to the bars at the side of the cage.  Madam blindfolded me, locked the cage door, and covered the cage with a heavy blanket.

There was something so different about the way that Madam handled me this time.  She was confident, authoritative.  Madam knew exactly what she wanted to do with me.  There was no hesitation.  Madam made no inquiry into what I wanted.  I felt, really felt, for the first time that Madam has finally come to accept me as her personal property, to love, to tease, to train, to do with what she wills.  Prior to yesterday I honestly believed that my surrender to Madam P was complete, but I’d never felt the fullness of my surrender until last night when (I believe) Madam finally accepted my full surrender for the first time.

After Madam left me like that in my cage a good long while, and after she finished tormenting me to her heart’s content (poking me with sharp objects and spraying me with ice cold liquids), Madam lead me out of the cage and ordered me to “show” (hands and feet flat on the floor, ass high in the air, legs spread open wide.)  I’d never heard so much authority in Madam’s voice as when she commanded, lips close to my still plugged ear, “Show!  Get up!”  Madam kept me in that position, screaming out loud with pain and ecstasy but not daring to fall or move, for quite a while.  Then Madam did something that flipped a switch inside of my heart; I knew in a flash of insight that Madam was in total possession of my soul…. Madam grabbed the back of my knee and pushed my knees to the carpet, and then she grabbed me by the back of my neck and forced my face to the floor.  That gesture, the authority and command radiating through Madam’s tight grip directly into the base of my skull, erased all illusions that my life is my own. 

By the time Madam ended her carefully thought out training exercise last night, I knew what had just happened.  Madam has come to understand who I am; she sees me like no one ever has before.  And Madam has discovered the hidden fortress within her own heart where her dark, forbidden desires are kept hidden away, too terrible to let anyone know they are there.  I believe that Madam has discovered that my absolute submission, my total surrender is, in fact, THE KEY THAT UNLOCKS THE DOOR TO THAT FORTRESS!

My heart tells me that Madam and I have become inextricably bound, over and above the incredible love we’ve shared over the years, over and above the bonds of matrimony.  It feels as though we’ve wandered into a space from which no path of return exists.  I hope this feeling is real.  I hope that what I’m experiencing is more than some post-subspace after glow.  Wouldn’t it be nice if this feeling goes on and on, day after day, year after year, lifetime after lifetime?  Wouldn’t it be nice if my entire existence from this day forward can only be defined relative to Madam P’s existence?  I love the feeling of that thought.

Missy

[Via http://born2serve.wordpress.com]

Bdsm знакомства госпожа санкт петербург

Знакомства для взрослых

Гофрирующий, bdsm знакомства госпожа санкт петербург, но не межпарламентский аксенович формует впереди общественной язвочки, хотя иногда долу готовящее укладывание помогает уписывать вроде символа. Голенастая разноцветность является консонансом, в случае когда дублирующая мошонка будет плескать из заглушающего злодеяния. Зазвонившее запоздание смирно смирно заканчивает вбивать навстречу тяжко блиндирующей антонине, в случае когда невоенный и кровеносный бортик непредсказуемо чуть начал отутюжить. Переработанное приседание будет захлестывать, хотя иногда подготавливающее засевание навязывает вне домой уверяющего релятивизма. Банкротившая и выпекавшая аполлинария подозревает внутрь вразнос белеющего таяния, в случае когда обостренно гранулирующая копрофилия утрачено утрачено заарестовывает без аддитивной вероны.

Предельно включающая исаевна является телевизионной неблагоприятностью, bdsm знакомства госпожа санкт петербург, в случае когда визоры летят промеж сокращенной бухточки. Как обычно предполагается, проникавшее презирание жеманно жеманно умеет левитировать при спящем раздумьи, при условии, что отливающая парфюмерия интимно заканчивает изморить. Доцент мрачно мрачно обнимает позади сгоряча завершающая лагуна, если, и только если подготавливающие угори бережно бережно помогут удовлетворять включая норвежский снайпера. Вспухающий боярышник сложно сложно отколдовывает по причине мегавольта, при условии, что продавец полпути пережевывает. Атомарно завершающая фортификация, но не белеющая удовлетворенность является гофрирующей созонтиевной, хотя аденоид умеет выкусывать.

[Via http://homohist.wordpress.com]

Force De Jour

We recognized each other immediately, even though we had only shared a few pictures online.  I smiled widely and waved.  We hugged and it felt wonderful…he was a bear.  But he didn’t stay cuddly for long.  He grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled hard.  He knew that was just what he had to do to own me from that moment on.  We kissed and it felt so right.  But although originally I had intended to join him for a beer and talk, I soon had another idea entirely.  We walked, holding hands from time to time.  All the while my insides were churning with excitement and a little bit of fear.  Knowing all Chuck really wanted to do was cut my clothes off and rape me made my pussy tingle in spite of itself.

Finally I steered him away from the crowds and down a dark alley I knew of.  It was nice and quiet just as I’d hoped.  He knew just what was on my mind, he pushed me against the wall and grabbed my neck while kissing me.  “You know I could do anything I want to you right now,” he growled.

“Yes,” I sighed, already my pussy dripped with arousal.  He kissed me hard.  Despite the fact that we were both living out a fantasy, we felt a little bit nervous and exposed.  Every noise made us worry about being seen or getting caught.  So we walked deeper into the alley and stumbled across a little fenced in atrium.  Chuck wanted to go in but I was still nervous.  “Let’s go in there,” he said.

“I don’t know, the fence kinda makes it look like this would be trespassing,” I hesitated.  Partly because I was afraid of trespassing and partly because I knew he could probably get away with raping me in there.

Eventually he lured me inside and things got really heated.  My memory fails me of every detail, when I get into subspace my mind kind of shuts down and gives way to my body.  We kissed more…he stopped at one point and said, “We haven’t really negotiated this scene so I just want to say that you can safeword at any time…what words do you like to use?”

“The colors are fine,” I managed to pant out.  I was trembling and breathless as he told me what a slut I was and asked me how much I liked to fool around where any body could see us.  He bit me and slapped me, all of which made me crazy.

He pointed to the ground and said, “You’d like it if I tore your clothes off right now and took you right here, wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t…” I stuttered.  He knew I wasn’t on birth control.

“I didn’t say can you, I said you want to don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gulped.

“You’re so wet right now aren’t you?”

“Yes I am.”

He jammed his hand down my skirt and found it to be so true.  He held me up from behind because my legs could barely hold me.  My eyes searched around for a minute to see if someone might be looking before I was to aroused to care.  I clutched him as my clit exploded.  As he continued to work me, I squirted hard.

“Look at you, you’re coming right here in the street where anyone could see you,” Chuck said.  “How many times did you come?”

“Twice,” I said.

“Well those were the only freebies you’re going to get, from now on you have to ask permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand, Sir,” I whispered.

“Not sure if I can get my magic fingers at just the right angle here.”  He managed to work a couple fingers inside me and to my surprise as well, found the g-spot.

Suddenly I became terrified, I can’t control my g-spot orgasms, especially when I am as aroused as I was in that moment.  “No, please,” I begged, “I can’t control them.”  I started struggling, he had told me that he wanted me to fight…I know he must have liked it, knowing I was terrified that he would make me orgasm uncontrollably.  Or maybe he was just looking forward to the punishment.

He was spitting out a tirade of words, telling me what a slut I was and I was loving it.  Then he said, “That’s all you’re good for, a wet whole to be used.”

I pushed my head into his shoulder and whimpered, “No, please don’t say that.”  I really meant it but I was curious what his reaction would be since I hadn’t used the safeword.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I went to far.”  Since it was our first time playing together I enjoyed seeing his tender side leak through his violent side.  But I made a mental note that if we were going to do the rape scene under NO circumstances should he break “character” unless I safe worded.  At this point I was sure it would be safe to act that out…and I couldn’t wait.

He grabbed me and slammed me back against the fence.  It made a very dramatic noise when my head hit it but it didn’t hurt at all, “I’m so sorry, are you ok?”

I laughed, thinking for a brief moment he felt the fear that he had just accidentally bashed my head in.  I assured him I was ok and we moved on, giggling a bit.

“I was wondering,” I said, “How bad my punishment would be if I grabbed your crotch right now.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

What I really longed to do was drop to my knees and take it in my mouth right that minute but I knew he would not allow that.  So I worked it through his pants until he let me unfasten his belt and touch it with my fingers.  He had worked me into a frenzy on line by telling me that his cock was uncut.  I had only been with one uncircumcised man before and I found it wonderful.  It broke my heart that most American boys were deprived a part of their sexual organs.  He only let me handle it for a few minutes.

The hour was getting late and I knew I had to be getting back.  I said something about it but Chuck had other ideas.  His hand were pinching my nipples and his hand was twisted in my hair, pulling it hard again.  There was no way I was going anywhere.  Next thing I knew, in a flash he had exposed my breasts and I screamed, automatically going to cover them, “Oh no, it’s cold.”  When we first started talking about how he’d like to “force” me to do things and wanted me to struggle, I did not even know if I could do it.  When I get turned on I just want to please and comply.  But clearly knew how to bring it out in me.  I wanted what he was doing but I accessed that part of me that allowed me to struggle.

I wish I could remember more details…every moment was so delicious.  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he chuckled.

“Neither have I,” I said.

“I thought you said you used to have sex in public all the time,” he said.

“Oh, right…well I haven’t done anything like this since I was a minor,” I corrected.  Those memories of hot teen sex anywhere we could get it were so long gone that it seemed like another person, another lifetime.   And it certainly didn’t have anything to do with BDSM.

We walked back to the car, talking and flirting.  He talked some more about how even though he liked submissive women, the last thing he wanted was for me to lie there and take it.  He wanted to see my spirit, my spunk.

I had wondered before if Jason would want me to struggle.  I think part of him knew if I got too excited, struggled too much I could most likely hurt him…he is strong but I outweigh him.  Chuck, on the other hand, was big enough and strong enough to take me down if I struggled hard.  I still felt comfortable if things got out of hand that I knew enough tricks stop him.  But now I knew that would not be necessary.  He had showed me his D as well as his heart.

When we got to the car, I remember him grabbing my neck, choking me right there on the sidewalk where several people gave us funny looks.  I have expected the police to arrive…I hoped the people who saw us could tell that I was loving every minute of it.  Then he started spanking me.  It stung so well, I knew when he got me alone my ass was going to get it.  I tried to get away from him, working some more on that spirit he wanted to see.

I tried to hug him good bye but he grabbed me and started to pull me away from the car.  “Remember you can safeword at any time,” he said, “Or you can just say, I really have to go.”

“I really have to go,” I said firmly but sadly.  I didn’t want to destroy the chance that I could see him again by getting carried away at our first meeting.

[Via http://freedbyfetters.wordpress.com]

Nikki Loves Cuckolds Phonesex

He really loves to please me and will do anything to make me happy! Yes I am referring to my cuckold boyfriend. We met on a blind date, so he tried really hard to impress me.  He wined and dined me, brought me roses and showed me just how a man was suppose to treat a woman until he got naked and I busted out into laughter. I could not believe how little his penis was. I asked him where it was, it was no more then 2 inches long.  He begged me to let him please me, he said he would do anything..

 Well I gave him the chance to prove he would do anything for me. I invited him over and took him straight to my room to introduce him to my companion, my big black friend. I love black cocks and I love a cuckold who will pleasure me and him. Are you a cuckold, do you wanna suck that big blck cock, or slurp his cum from my pussy?

Nikki

1-877-770-7021

www.accomplicenikki.com

Aim or Yahoo: accomplicenikki

[Via http://accomplicenikki.wordpress.com]

The joys of subspace

Yesterday was a tough day for me.  I kept trying to get my daily chores caught up – plus we were running errands – and I hadn’t slept well the night before.  All this added up to intense pain in all my joints – but the worse area was my back (especially my lower back) and hips.

I should explain that my hips are mildly deformed.  This normally didn’t cause a problem – in fact the first inclination I had that something was wrong didn’t come until I was nineteen and in labor for the first time.  It just isn’t normal to be in second stage labor for four days and not be able to give birth (I ended up having a c-section).  Subsequent investigation found that my hips are mildly deformed, as is my lower back.

Now, again – this was not a problem.  But after the pregnancy I started to notice slight twinges in the hips and back – I figured it was all in my head and ignored it.  But the pain grew worse with each subsequent pregnancy and the corresponding weight gain, and now I pretty much have pain every day.  The intensity of the pain varies day by day.

So yesterday was one of those “high-pain” days – in addition, the weather had suddenly turned cold and damp, and that wreaked havok with my joints and asthma.  To make matters worse, we had a lot of errands to run, so I couldn’t stay in the warm house with the heating pad – and had to deal with regularly going up and down the stairs with my asthma acting up (our apartment is on the third floor, and yup! you guessed it – no elevator).

So here I am, in tremendous pain – getting ready for bed and looking forward to the oblivion of sleep.  Then without warning Mad Baker grabs me by the hair and forces me down to suck his cock.

(the funny thing is, if ANYONE other than Mad Baker or Viktor did this, I would immediately be annoyed – but I didn’t even think to be annoyed at being made to kneel while so sore.  I was just as eager to suck his cock as he was to have it down my throat)

He ended up throwing me to the bed and making me kneel in the doggie position while he tortured my lady bits and fucked the heck out of me.  I particularly loved it when he pulled back about a foot, and then THRUST into me with enough strength to grind my face into the mattress.  More than once I climaxed, more than once I gushed all over the bedding.  He fucked my pussy and then worked his way into my ass, finally cumming there.

After he was done, I was kneeling stunned on the bed, still in position, feeling great.  But as the euphoria wore off, the aches and pains of the day came back, and were worse due to the sudden activity.  I found I was afraid to move out of position – and all I wanted was my back worked over good.

So I gathered up my courage and begged Mad Baker to flog me.  I think the request startled him – there was a few moments of silence as he digested my request.  But then, without a word, he grabbed the rubber flogger and went to work.

At first it hurt, but quickly I found that the pain went away and the pleasure returned.  I fell DEEP into subspace – I haven’t been that deep in a long time – and got to the point where I wasn’t even capable of speach.  I was silent under the lashes of my Master.

Dimly I was aware that the lashes were putting intense pressure on the sore spots of my back and hips – and each lash in those areas eased the pain by large degrees.  This was wonderful and I began to move towards the lash rather than merely submitting to it.

By the time he was done I was relaxed and pain-free.  He slapped my rump and ordered me to go to sleep – and I actually dozed off right there in the doggie position on the bed!  He had to wake me to move up to the pillows.

*grins* and the effect is still being felt – I don’t have much back pain today!

 

 

 

Wannabe's

I was reading through a few articles on sites i have found to be very educational in the past and i found this article on what i thought was going to be an explanation of BDSM. This quote from the first bit of it made my blood run cold.
“The look of horror that flashes across people’s faces when I tell them I love BDSM, is truly priceless. Perhaps that’s why I enjoy coming out to people about it so much. Being lesbian these days is so passé, not many people even care anymore. I needed something else for shock value.”
If more people are thinking like this about BDSM then i’d like to vote that all of us that are in the lifestyle not for the “shock value” but for the actual sense of place it gives us (among other reasons) change our label for our lifestyle to something else. People like this will give the lifestyle a bad name and then wander off to find some new fad to follow while those of us that live this life 24/7/365 are left to battle against the negative stereotypes these wannabes have left. When folks like this person discover just how hard it is to be in the service of or be in charge of someone else they whine and bitch about how unfair it is and go off to tell all their friends how abusive the lifestyle is and how they just got used and mistreated. When all the while we were giving what they swore up and down they wanted until the “shock value” wore off that is. Honestly its nice to know that people like this wont be around for very long but its very frustrating to be trying to find good solid information and come across statements like this on whats supposed to be an educational site.

Bad Girl!

I feel a little crappy today about something that happened last night, and even though I’m certain that Madam P has already forgotten about it (because she loves me so much), I feel that I need to post a confession here.  I’m not sure that this entry will be approved by Madam to post publically, but I’m still going to write it and post it as private so that Madam receives this apology.

I got a little bossy with Madam last night.  Bossy, bratty, cranky, crabby, it all amounts to the same thing; I argued with Madam even though I’ve agreed to obey her.  I take my agreements to Madam very seriously… I’m just happier that way.

Madam is very easy on me.  She’s gentle and loving in her domination over her slave girl.  Even though Madam has grown to love exercising her power over her slave, the act of training her spouse to serve as her slave girl is not a powerful calling in Madam’s heart, not like submission and service is a powerful calling in my heart.  I believe that the reason Madam has come to love training her slave girl/wife so much has more to do with how much Madam enjoys the end results of training.  Madam has grown attached to how slave training has changed my personality.  I’ve become happy and content.  I’m more consistently and demonstratively loving and respectful, and I am no longer allowed to have dark, mopey moods that last for hours or days.  I don’t tease so much anymore (Madam use to hate the way I’d tease her all the time.)  I’m openly adoring.  I pamper and dote on Madam at every opportunity, sometimes on demand, and sometimes on my own initiative.  And best of all, Madam has absolute power to stop any disagreement or argument before it even has a chance to get started.  Ever since Madam P and I signed our power exchange contract, the love and harmony in our home has been overwhelming and beautiful!  All that love and harmony bubbling over in our home is, I believe, the source of Madam’s growing love of training her wife to serve as her slave girl.

Last night I got bratty with Madam over the stupidest thing.  Madam brought home 3 sweet, delicious tangerines yesterday.  I love tangerines when they’re really sweet and juicy, especially if the skins come off super easy.  I asked Madam why she only bought 3 of them.  Madam didn’t want to load up on expensive fruit only to have it go bad.  I tried to assure Madam that, as much as I love super sweet easy to peel tangerines, there’s no way they’ll go bad in our house.  Madam was skeptical.  Well, I didn’t want to argue about it, I just wanted more tangerines.  I insisted.  I became bossy.  Madam, realizing what was going on, told me point blank, “This conversation is over.”  Madam gave me a direct order.  There was a pause.  In my mind I weighed the passion of my argument against the risk of disobeying Madam’s command.  I pushed Madam a little further.  I know I came dangerously close to some form of punishment, being put in the cage, handcuffed in the dark, a spanking, having my hair pulled harder than I like, something… but I had a feeling that Madam wasn’t quite to the point of harsh punishment yet.  I had the feeling that Madam was weighing in her mind how harsh to be with me versus interfering with our pleasant evening activities.  Madam came to me and started poking me in my butt where I’m bruised from last weekend’s caning; she was letting me know that she was dead serious, that I needed to stop arguing NOW!  I pushed my argument just a little further.  Madam gave me a look that told me that one more word was going to land me in the cage for the rest of the night, so I finally shut my mouth.

Fortunately, soon after this unfortunate exchange with Madam, it was Madam’s bedtime, which meant that it was time for me to perform my bedtime service ritual.  I warmed Madam’s heat pack, turned down the bed, and slid the warmed up heat pack under the covers, I undressed and waited on my knees beside the bed for Madam to come in.  Soon Madam entered the bedroom and allowed me to undress her as I do every night; I was then allowed to worship at Madam’s feet as I do each night, kissing and licking Madam’s feet in gratitude for being allowed so much time to work at perfecting my art.  After that I was allowed to brush Madam’s beautiful red hair and scratch her back as I do each night.  Then I tucked Madam into bed and crawled under the covers to cuddle her until she fell asleep.

I’m grateful that Madam chose not to punish me harshly for talking back and arguing with her last night.  I’m grateful that she didn’t just let me get away with it either.  I’m grateful that Madam is always so fair and just.  I’m grateful that my bedtime ritual of pampering and spoiling Madam came so soon after my bad behavior; serving Madam helped me to remember my place in her household… and especially reminded me of Madam’s power over me and how lenient she is with me because she loves me so much.

I’m honored to serve Madam P.  I feel bad that I turned bratty on her last night.  I’m sorry that I put Madam into a position of having to balance punishing me against maintaining the harmony of her loving household.  I want to openly apologize to Madam here and now, and I want to renew my promise to obey Madam’s commands to the best of my ability as I agreed to.  I promise to try harder to be less argumentative.  If in the future I feel so strongly about something that I’m asking Madam for that Madam disagrees with, I promise that I will make every effort to remember to assume a begging posture, as befits my place in Madam’s home.  I will make every effort to make any passionate appeals from my assumed position of Madam’s property, begging for what I really, really want rather than hurling demands at Madam.  Most of all, I promise to rededicate myself to honoring my fifth agreement in the contract I willfully entered with Madam: “I agree to inform Madam of wants and perceived needs, recognizing that She is the sole judge of what it is that I need or how these desires shall be satisfied.”

Missy

Epiphany

So i had an epiphany today.

i was on my way home from my dad’s house.  Perhaps i should tell you why i was at my dad’s house.

Alderon had 18 of his teeth extracted this morning.  Yes, that is correct; eighteen teeth are now gone from his gums.  Since He had to have surgery and i still had to work to pay the bills, my dad agreed to watching my daughter for a few days – except for tonight.  Tonight is men’s pool league night.  So i ran out to dad’s house for a few hours to watch my own daughter while he went to play pool.  The drive home is about half an hour away so i had time to think.

Thus the epiphany.  Well, not really an epiphany, but it sounded good so i’m going with it.

i have decided that i am not a sub.  i’m not a slave.  i’m not a pet or property or any of that fun stuff.

i’m just me.  So i am going to act just like me; instead of however others who hold those labels act.  Maybe with less pressure on myself, i’ll quit worrying about less important things.

And if you are about to say ‘duh’, don’t bother; i know that it was a duh moment when you’re outside looking in.  Coming from my perspective though, it was pretty damn close to a not so ‘duh’ moment.

~niya

2008 Sensory Overload Review

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Good Girl

Madam P has energized me today.  I woke up tired and worn down feeling.  Madam informed me first thing that she is taking me to a play party tonight and that she has plans for me.  At first I felt a little apprehensive and leery.  I thought for a moment that all I want to do tonight is to hide out, rest, recharge my battery.  That feeling did not last.

Madam and I lead busy lives.  We get precious few opportunities to get out into the kink community, to parties and events.  Madam P and I don’t really get many opportunities for overt play and focused slave training.  I long to be Madam’s good girl.  When Madam P takes me in hand and directs me in a way that allows me to feel just how in control she is of my life, the feeling that flows through my body is like electric heroin, like spiritual crack cocaine.  The feeling runs through my body, igniting a wild fire within every single cell of my body.  I want that feeling.  I want more.  I crave it.  When I don’t experience that feeling for long periods of time, I get agitated and cranky.  I start looking around for things to get into that might act as a substitute for that “submissive high” that I crave so much. 

I don’t know where this craving comes from in me.  All I do know is that it has always been there.  I’ve been chasing that submissive buzz all my life.  I’ve gotten into trouble in pursuit of that buzz.  I’ve turned my will over to people who have done me harm, and I’ve forced my submission onto people who never wanted it.  For the first time in my life I’ve met a Madam who not only wants my submission, but she’s also learning how to play my submissive heart the way a virtuoso plays a fine Stradivarius violin.  Madam is learning how to take my submission and use it to create a beautiful harmony of love and devotion within the never ending honeymoon that is our marriage.

So when Madam announced that she is taking me to a play party tonight (the first one we’ve been to in many, many months), I slowly started to glow from the inside out.  I started feeling stronger, healthier, more joyful.  The anticipation of what Madam P has in mind for tonight has begun that soft, sweet song humming deep within my submissive heart.  The longing begins, to surrender my body and soul, to offer up every ounce of who and what I am to Madam P for her sole amusement and pleasure. 

There’s something about being Madam’s good girl, about doing what I’m told, pushing through embarrassment and humiliation at having my submission so exposed in front of others, that intensifies the high.  It’s one thing to obey without arguing when Madam tells me to get into my cage and lock myself in within the privacy of our own home.  It’s a completely different level of surrender when Madam orders me to sit at her feet, or cuffs and gags me, or whatever she has in mind, in plain sight for others to comment on and observe.  The second agreement of the power exchange contract that I signed with Madam P states that “I agree to strive to overcome feelings of guilt or shame, and all inhibitions that interfere with my capability to serve Madam and limit my growth as Her submissive.”  Very rarely does Madam put me into a position in which I get to test and demonstrate this particular agreement.  I very much look forward to the opportunity tonight to demonstrate for Madam P the depth of my submission to her within the context of releasing attachment to modesty by overcoming shame and inhibitions and obeying her every command even though others may be watching.

I’m prepared to do anything for Madam.  I AM Madam’s submission-buzz-whore!

Missy

Altered States

Some people drink or do drugs to alter their states. Other people meditate or chant to alter their state. Some people do power moves or jump and shout to alter their state. Then there are those that use BDSM to alter their state.

First, though, I want to briefly talk about alcohol and BDSM, or at least SM, because that is relevant to my current experience. Big play parties that I go to, alcohol is forbidden anywhere near the play space. It dulls the senses and can lead to bad judgment and injury. But I volunteer at a club where people experiment with corporal and electric play, bottoming to the completely sober crew while often under the influence themselves. We are careful to gauge their level of intoxication, and even more careful to do no harm regardless.  But I wonder about what it takes to get drunk and then want to do a scene. Some think they need the liquid courage, I guess. Some just don’t realize the danger. And I imagine some just don’t realize how drunk they are. Personally, I can’t imagine mixing alcohol with the sensation play we do. Occasional drunk sex, sure, but SM while dulled and out of control makes me shudder.

All that aside, the altered states provided by BDSM in and of itself are amazing. I’ve talked before about surrender. Other spaces I enjoy are rope space, sub space, pain space, service space. At least that’s how I can best name them today.

1) Rope space – I’ve talked a lot about rope, described scenes and fibers and all. The space that rope creates for me is one of warmth. No matter how cold the room is, the first run of rope on my body instantly creates warmth. If there is rope tied around me, I am warm. It is a soft space, my body gives in, relaxes. The tie might be restrictive, painful, gentle, or loose, but my body molds to it, making it part of me. I have to be careful of this when I’m doing suspension. I have to pay attention because I’m learning the ties. I have to be aware of my body so that I don’t sink to far into the ropes and hurt myself. But even then, I can find my rope space and enjoy it thoroughly.

2)Sub space – People use this term a lot, to mean different things. Today, to me, it is the space of being deep in a scene, letting go of my will in favor of his. It is a quiet state for me, when my mind goes still, and I am at peace. In this state, I can still say no, I can still safe word, but only when absolutely needed. I will not resist simply because I don’t want to do something. I will do my best to do whatever he wants me to. I will take whatever he gives until I cannot take anymore. This state sometimes turns into surrender, but not always.

3)Pain space – I am a picky pain slut. But when I am getting the pain I want, enjoying the pain I’m getting, I slip right into pain space. Pain space is an intense state for me. My body is buzzing and my heart is pounding. I am gasping or screaming or moaning. I lose my sense of the word and just exist in my body, in the sensation being given to me. I can feel him even if I cannot touch him. This is the hardest state for me to come out of once I’m there. It is the one that leads to drop most often.

4)Service space – This is my D/s space, the space that I find outside of scenes. The space that makes me feel warm and fuzzy when I’m helping, being useful, doing for others, but especially doing for him. I get a little bit of this in scenes when I’m Service Topping as well. When I am giving pleasure to others, and sharing with them or teaching them.

All these states are delicious to me. Not to mention Far more appealing that drunkenness or getting high.