In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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Apparently I'm a Hot Nympomanic Mess...

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The room was overflowing.  Given the venue (which seemed to dampen sound - good thing to note) two dozen people sat quiet as hell straining to listen to every word the panelists shared about Service. The panel was amazingly diverse!  Various genders, races and sexual orientations of both experienced Masters and slaves.  I was eager to gain more insight, new perspectives, new knowledge.  I jotted down each question to the panelists to ponder later as needed for myself as well as took note of any thought provoking comments.  Then this happened...

Question to the Panel (summarized/not word for word): "What service do you provide/receive that you enjoy most?"

My IMMEDIATE internal answer (and a fucking movie reel of hot fucking flashback recent memories) screamed through my mind...SUCKING DICK!

Yeah...thank every deity known and forgotten to man that I somehow managed not to even murmur  that sledgehammer-like thought cause I was feeling like the bouncy overly happy chick on Family Feud with the "Survey Says" answer.  ~SMH~

Still I was utterly confused...more like bafoozled...and significantly self-embarrassed when all the panelists who answered said something oh so properly service-y and rated G like cook or rub feet.   In comparison, I am apparently a hot nyphomanic mess when it comes to serious M/s discussions.  (Not that I've had much complaint unless you count "Woman, stop...you're gonna kill me.")

I pondered my deviant instincts within the "deviant" community on the bus, on the subway, in the cab as I made my long trek home, and I realized...aside from pegging, sex isn't really discussed much in the actual BDSM scene.  (I'm not talking about Fet.  Fet is it's own weird monster of kink-dom. Nor am I talking about classes at adult stores that cater more to the intersection of mainstream and vanilla.)  I've gone to a number of M/s discussions, S/m | B | D/s classes, lectures, roundtables, etc, and the hot sweaty naughty physical YUM is just somewhere fucking else - rarely openly discussed, shared, even really alluded to.

~SCRATCHING MY MESSY PLATINUM HEAD~

Maybe I've just completely missed it.  Maybe I haven't been at the right events.  I'll be more mindful of this idea as I continue my attendance.  However, in the meantime I truly wonder if I'm somehow missing some uber magical ethereal point of all this BDSM stuff.

I mean yes...I do find unrestrained and overwhelming joy when I hit masochistic space.
And yes...I do find exquisite peace and tranquility when I hit subspace.

But damn...some hot hard fucking entwined in all the delightful BDSM shit we do goes a LONG way with me, and I know my current Owner has never once said during our 1:1 time, "No, I don't want to have sex this time."

But who knows...maybe eventually I'll figure out I've been doing this all wrong the whole time.  Until then my enlightened ass will gratefully enjoy servicing my Owner exactly how He likes.  ;-P
~DominaKat

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