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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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Broken Rules

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Last Wednesday marked one year since we met. Flashbacks to that evening and those initial days have plagued me the last week. How quickly life can shift. Four days before we'd met, I’d sent a follow up email after a TES class to another attendee. It had been my first TES class, and I'd been a couple minutes late, missing the initial intros. Turned out I emailed the wrong contact. What a blessing. ( Sidenote: Thank you again, Sherpa, for your inadvertent match making!!! ) Kwesi and I met days later. Though it had only been intended as a casual networking connection over a drink, that evening turned out to be the sexiest first date, I’ve ever had. From the moment I saw Him, looking down that New York City avenue with his hands in His pockets, something settled in me. My instincts instinctively whispered, “Yes, Him.” There were no nervous butterflies or awkward moments that simple Spring Tuesday evening. Instead there was an easy calm unlike any energy I’d ever felt with a Man.
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My Masochist's Betrayal

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There in the too well lit room where I couldn't hide, He rained down Pain.  It's what I wanted.  I am a masochist after all.  I escaped the world at large until only three elements remained: Him, my body, and Pain. The music faded.  The Sadistic sounds of the other couples crammed near us disappeared.  The voyeurs became an indistinguishable blur.  And my pride...my pride was nowhere to be fucking found. I was grateful for every damn bit He gave me.  I greedily drank up His violence, lapping at it like a dog on a hot August day.  I never got to safeword stage.  It was never too much.  I wanted...no...needed to suffer.  Maybe I needed it too damn much.  Lap, lap, lap...I lapped it up, searching for the usual sweetness only to find a dusty bitter tang. Every smack of His palm, crack of the crop, slap of the flogger exploded across my skin and within the landscape of my mind like a chaotic bomb.  I was neither tranquil or calm or peaceful or serene.  I moaned, whimpered, sho
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Enthusiastic Assent for My submission

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I had to suffer through some brutal, long-term lessons before I fully comprehended what I now consider the Number One rule in submission (after the overarching fundamentals of trust, respect, honor, etc. that apply to both the D and the s.) I can ONLY give as much as He will TAKE. I wish someone had explained that to me at the beginning of my journey.  Though, I'm not sure it would have made a difference.  I can't tell you how many have verbally proclaimed on countless occasions that they valued and wanted everything I had to give only to prove the exact opposite in action.  Whether due to misaligned/misaligned expectations or outright mirages and lies, it didn't matter how many ways I submitted or how well I submitted, I eventually had no choice but to face being... untaken... unwanted... unneeded. Over time, my emotional wounds and physical frustration became devastating.  Imagine a torrential wall of hot lava (submission) fueled by a mountain of thunderous eruptio
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Tell Me "No"

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Floggers, crops, whips, rope...heady, sexy, yummy toys of kink.  The showmanship, the Pain, the obvious position of Power and Authority to submission are tangible, bold opportunities to share intimate experiences with one another, especially those in D/s dynamics.  Yet, often a simple, reasonable, deftly placed "No" lands much deeper and last much longer than a night's pretty bruises or vicious lashes.  In fact an occasional denial (preferably accompanied with a why) is essential to a healthy Power Exchange relationship. A "No" in a sea of "Yes" demonstrates that He listens. A "No" because He wants that Privilege with me shows He still desires me. A "No" draws a Boundary that reassures me. A "No" to keep me safe reminds me how much He values His property. A "No" to make me uncomfortable allows me to please and amuse His Sadism. A "No" once again establishes His Control. A &quo
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My Religion

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I remained silent.  As they took turns speaking, their words faded to background noise, and I held up my own Truth to my mind's eye and gazed at it in fearless acknowledgement. Yes, I see.  I know. Even there, surrounded by those who shared at least some version of my proclivities, it seemed unlikely my own Beliefs would find many companions.  I hadn't been hopeful - merely curious.  I long ago accepted in myself what I can so rarely express to anyone who can understand.  Though I have let  my Truth flicker in the ether at times . My Religion?  I bask, bath, am baptized in the Spiritual essence found only at the Divine intersection of a soul deep connection, pure, authentic BDSM, and raw hedonistic sex.  There...in those moments...I am free of the chains of this world and become one with the Holy Existence of Life and all that beautiful energy of the Universe.  There...in those moments...I find Grace. I am Grace. I am Everything and nothing. I am Life and death. I a
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His to Take

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Fuck me, He makes me soft, and as time goes on it just gets worse.  However, don't doubt!  My lioness still very much has her claws, but at the sight or sound of Him, they are sheathed as I rollover to show Him my belly and simply start to purrrrrrrrrrrr. I hadn't realized this...evolution to us or myself until the last two weeks.  Flu cancelled plans day after day.  There was no anger or drama.  Just worry, concern, and an...emptiness where He exists in my life.  He'd call or text me a picture or, and the sun would burst suddenly from behind cloudy grey skies and warm my soul.  If He made that little growl/hum sound because of something I'd say, it was like a damn rainbow lit up the sky too.  ~sigh~  I damn sure hadn't planned to allow this kind of vulnerability in my life again. I was short-sighted.  Funny how in my search for a D/s dynamic, I hadn't factored in the inevitability of that soft spot and chink in my armor that happens as two people build trus
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Kinky Cranky Elitists, Teenage Newbies, & Kink-topia

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~sigh~  After seeing several new people feel like they are LESS than after reading some arrogant assholian the lifestyle is going to hell in a handbasket rants... Dear Captain Kinky Cranky Pants (encompassing all genders) ~ Yes, Fet sucks. It's always sucked. It just didn't suck as much when it was NEW to you and me.  Since I joined in 2010, I’ve absolutely seen a difference as well, but I'm pretty sure much of that perspective is due to how much MORE educated I am and how much FURTHER along in my own journey I am.  Putting some check marks next to your kinky bucket list makes climbing the Everest of Kink seem achievable.  Just because you have your climbing gear and you've done two dozen other climbs doesn't mean you should scuff at the ones just getting their first pair of hiking boots. Yes, the amount of fluffy - first things many of us check off the list - can be significant.  One of the first steps of courage in the lifestyle tends to be showing some
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