Friday, December 3, 2010


Doms and sadists.
By and large, I take them with a handful of salt.
Thrown back over my left shoulder.
Plain, ordinary iodized salt.
None of that fancy sea salt.
Don't want them to get a swollen head.

Of course, my view of submissives is liberally sprinkled with salt as well.
We're a romantic bunch, we submissives.
Easily swayed by a whole assortment of hypnotic techniques.
A word.
A look.
A touch.
A raised eyebrow.
A voice.
We lose perspective.
We get carried away.
Their power washes over us,
the power they like to think they have,
and our brains short-circuit.

We're never the same again.

They know it.
Or they think they know it.
Doms and sadists,
they think a lot of themselves.
They think they have that
and it should work with everyone.
Oh yes, they can be full of themselves.

Like the ones who come on to you on FetLife, going on about what they're after without bothering to read your profile that clearly says you're quite happy with what you've got, thank you very much, and anyway you live clear across the country.

It's all a question of his finding the right word, of course.
Or the right person for whom his usual word
raises sparks
or destroys vigilance.
And then all common sense falls away and you become mush.

The fiend disarmed me by being self-deprecating. Pretty funny for someone who is so massively narcissistic. But that's what he did. Played at diminishing himself. He was funny and charming and literary and I was lost within a day.

Actually, I was lost from that very first message with which he approached me on - yes - FetLife. He is extraordinary. He truly is. He is scary and smart and wry and demanding and I will never, ever be able to present a proper picture of him. So I toss out bits here and there, more as a way to explain me as anything else. Because I know it's hopeless. It's hopeless trying to explain him.

Just as the rest of you submissive bloggers will never really be able to convince me of what you see in the one who - to one extent or another - spanks you and fucks you and runs your life. To me you all seem - to one extent or another - brainless ninnies who have been swallowed up by the machinations of some self-important man (mostly men, but of course not exclusively) who thinks he deserves your worship.

I don't like self-important men.
And I give true respect only where it has been earned.

I do not completely exclude myself from the brainless ninny category.
And I don't deny that sometimes I sound like one.
Still, you must read me and all of us with a bit of detachment.
How much is real?
How much is exaggerated?
How much is real but edited for effect?

The sadist is a dangerous man.
That is for real.
He also has his vulnerabilities.
He has his soft spots.
And sometimes he lets the mask slip.

Still, the question has arisen - which is the mask?
And which is his true face?

Me, I think it's one of those composite pictures. Or the blind men and the elephant. We aren't blind, all of us who have our little places in his life. But we only see what he wants to show us, and each of us sees a different part. I think he is disconcerted at his occasional urges to briefly remove my blinders, to drop the masks he has chosen to wear in my presence, and show me the wounds that fester below.

There are many kinds of danger, and I am not the only one who at times feels a threat.

The sadist is a dangerous man.
This I know, and am given more reasons to believe.
He seems to want me to know.
The sadist is a dangerous man.
But he protects me.
He does his best to protect.
The beast is banging on the bars,
but Daddy will protect me.

So this weekend he has arranged to let the beast out of his cage in a situation where that is... appropriate. The creature will gorge himself and, unlike the scene in La belle et la bĂȘte, there will be no risk of my coming across him with blood dripping from his maw.

No risk of my vomiting as I see him tearing a deer to shreds.
And no risk of my kneeling before him
and offering my own throat to his waiting jaws.

Somtimes love makes no sense at all.


Viviane said...

You express the submissive mindset so very, very well.

Self-important men are such a dreary bore, but the Doms who capture our attention are indeed Masters of their craft.

Bravo OG, well done indeed!


Paul said...

OG, would it be real love if it did?
Love and warm hugs,

Luna Mauvaise said...

Brainless ninnies? Perhaps there are those subs who also think too much of themselves.

oatmeal girl said...

Thank you, Viviane. Although I think part of what I was saying was that while of course OUR Doms seem perfect and brilliant to us, to others they may still appear to be dreary bores.

(My goodness, what put me in this mood?!)

Paul - too true, alas.

Luna - there is no contradiction there. Again, it is a matter of perspective. While some subs do betray a certain sense of superiority with respect to both the purity of their obedience and their ability to analyze the failings of others of their ilk, that does not protect them from appearing like brainless ninnies to perspicacious readers.

Note that I do not exempt myself from any of these accusations.

Anonymous said...

This - this is a fascinating post, OG. Yes. You are absolutely right. They are full of themselves, and, as the chaperone so correctly says in "Henry V", "the tongues of men are full of deceits" - or something to that effect. (December is a literary month, apparently.)
And you are also correct in saying submissives are romantic, gullible, easily swayed - by the right word from the right person. We arrive on scene tilted toward submission, consumed with a desire to surrender, seeking an object of worship.
Our doms and sadists do appear, often, to be oversized and hormone-crazed children, full of themselves and without the gentle gift of listening. After 42 years, I find myself - (everyone feel free to laugh) - furious at times with The Man simply because he's inconsiderate, self-immersed, obsessed with his own gratification.
Well, duh, I say to myself. You expected, perhaps, a girlfriend, who would chat with you about how you feel? What did you think you were signing on for?
And of course, both of me are correct. He's an inconsiderate slug, and he's the center of both our universes, and we're both just hopelessly in love with him.
I deal with it, and have for years, with humor. I am not a particularly submissive submissive when I'm wearing my clothes, and dealing with the world at large, and my behavior would not meet the standards set out by many doms. I brat, in and out of "scene" for lack of a better word, because of course, since he is my life partner, the line are blurred in so many areas. I'm a protester - not about pain, not about sexual submission, but about sanity, about fitting the rest of life into the archaic world in which our minds dwell.
So, I laugh, I tease, I'm a smartass, and slightly disrespectful, a challenge, in fact, whenever I'm not actively engaged in being consumed by what you also so rightly identify as his power.
And the power is real. It is sweet, and safe, and hard, and tender and demanding, and so surprising sometimes that it brings me to tears and self-revelation and self-comprehension all at once.
And, damn it to hell, it, too, seems to be a result of his being a self-important man. I don't like them either.
Except this one, with his swollen head.
No. Love makes no sense.
But, (as I kneel, sucking, peeping up with a slightly rebellious grin), sense does not appear to be requisite. - jcn

oatmeal girl said...

Ah, darling, this is one of those times when I wish you had a blog of your own. Except that then you wouldn't have time to leave comments like this over at my place.

"And of course, both of me are correct. He's an inconsiderate slug, and he's the center of both our universes, and we're both just hopelessly in love with him."

I admit that when I read this I was thinking - ah yes. He's the center of HIS universe, too... certainly that applies to the fiend. Except, of course, that I suspect there is an emptiness in at least my Master's life that makes him need his collection of worshipful submissives to soothe his pain with our own.

And now I'm off to buy chicken feed. In bulk. At a feed store. Did you all know it makes great kitty litter? You can buy it at Pet Smart i a tiny bag (World's Best Cat Litter, or some such thing) for $8. Or you can go to a feed store and get a humungous bag of chicken feed (there's your weight-bearing exercise) for $11.

See the things you can learn o a sex blog?!

Anonymous said...

Emptiness at the center.
An inability to exactly identify who he is, though certainly not what he wants.
To some extent a result of being an anachronism, in the case of TM. But I think it's true of many, many doms.
And I expressed myself clumsily, but you read it correctly. It was my error to use "both of me" and then "both of us".
I meant that both TM and I are desperately in love with - TM!
My rebellious side stays cynical, and has to leave the room when I'm engaged.
Thanks for the tip of chicken feed/kitty litter.
Our feed store is where we buy our - buggy whips! (OOOOOOH!)
Fascinating shopping trip shaping up. - jcn

Liras said...

I was so greatly hoping for a story about you offering your throat, to his glistening fangs!

But I shall be just as pleased by the story of sedate but wanton depravity visited upon your flesh.

His Girl said...

From one brainless ninny of a subbie, I must say....fascinating post.