This summer, an idealistic young New Yorker spent several weeks working with poor children in India. Just before she left, a little girl ran up and pinched her so hard she drew blood. When a translator asked why she’d hurt someone who’d been kind to her, the girl explained, “This way she won’t forget me after she leaves.” That startling child already knew the inscriptive power of pain.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
"The inscriptive power of pain"
From a NY Times book review of Ivana Lowell's memoir Why Not Say What Happened?
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Meditating on devotion
The last few weeks have sucked.
Truly sucked.
I've been stressed out over money.
Marko was horribly ill and looked as if he might die.
My asthma was heading towards a crisis stage.
And oh yes.... there was the little matter of my car being totaled as it slept peacefully in front of my house early one morning when a van belonging to a major American (is it still American?) corporation smashed into it. And then I was the one who spent hours and days and all told it will be at least 2 weeks getting the claim filed (and why did *I* have to file the claim?) and working my way through the layers of bureaucracy and pulling money out of my IRA to supplement the actually very generous settlement I got for my beautiful VERY low mileage car that had just been given a hearty meal of a full tank of gas.
I flirted with the appraiser.
He was very generous indeed with the valuation.
In the end, I did treat myself to an elegant new car - a car that one would never think could be elegant but this one is indeed elegant.
Still, I'm angry.
I'm angry and stressed and all these little details remain unresolved.
They are eating at me.
On the other hand, the day I picked up the new car, Marko suddenly decided he was starving and gobbled down every bit of food in sight. No more squirting kitty Ensure down his throat. And he started playing! It had been weeks since he played, and there he was with one of his favorite pipe cleaners. Such joy.
But the stress still festers.
And it distracts me.
I shouldn't be thinking of myself.
I should be thinking of the sadist.
Of my Master.
Of Daddy - which is how I address him now almost all the time.
He is ALWAYS very stressed out this time of year. He is stressed out and his usual schedule is disrupted and there are all sorts of extra demands on his time and this is when he needs me to concentrate on providing a diversion. On providing entertainment. On being his poet whore. On being his vulnerable baby girl. Even when circumstances are disruptive and he has to go 2 weeks without enjoying the physical pleasures I can provide, I can give him the gifts of my mind and with half a dozen sentences do for him what no one else can.
No one.
He says this again and again.
No one can give him what I can.
So how selfish of me to allow my own woes to distract me from my duties. Duties which,when properly performed, end up distracting me from my own woes.
The mere act of writing those last few sentences has calmed me.
The stress and anger aren't all gone.
But I'm breathing deeply now
and the warmth of my love is caressing me inside and out.
I love you, Daddy.
Everything else is irrelevant next to that.
I love you.
And with my surrender
I regain my strength.
Truly sucked.
I've been stressed out over money.
Marko was horribly ill and looked as if he might die.
My asthma was heading towards a crisis stage.
And oh yes.... there was the little matter of my car being totaled as it slept peacefully in front of my house early one morning when a van belonging to a major American (is it still American?) corporation smashed into it. And then I was the one who spent hours and days and all told it will be at least 2 weeks getting the claim filed (and why did *I* have to file the claim?) and working my way through the layers of bureaucracy and pulling money out of my IRA to supplement the actually very generous settlement I got for my beautiful VERY low mileage car that had just been given a hearty meal of a full tank of gas.
I flirted with the appraiser.
He was very generous indeed with the valuation.
In the end, I did treat myself to an elegant new car - a car that one would never think could be elegant but this one is indeed elegant.
Still, I'm angry.
I'm angry and stressed and all these little details remain unresolved.
They are eating at me.
On the other hand, the day I picked up the new car, Marko suddenly decided he was starving and gobbled down every bit of food in sight. No more squirting kitty Ensure down his throat. And he started playing! It had been weeks since he played, and there he was with one of his favorite pipe cleaners. Such joy.
But the stress still festers.
And it distracts me.
I shouldn't be thinking of myself.
I should be thinking of the sadist.
Of my Master.
Of Daddy - which is how I address him now almost all the time.
He is ALWAYS very stressed out this time of year. He is stressed out and his usual schedule is disrupted and there are all sorts of extra demands on his time and this is when he needs me to concentrate on providing a diversion. On providing entertainment. On being his poet whore. On being his vulnerable baby girl. Even when circumstances are disruptive and he has to go 2 weeks without enjoying the physical pleasures I can provide, I can give him the gifts of my mind and with half a dozen sentences do for him what no one else can.
No one.
He says this again and again.
No one can give him what I can.
So how selfish of me to allow my own woes to distract me from my duties. Duties which,when properly performed, end up distracting me from my own woes.
The mere act of writing those last few sentences has calmed me.
The stress and anger aren't all gone.
But I'm breathing deeply now
and the warmth of my love is caressing me inside and out.
I love you, Daddy.
Everything else is irrelevant next to that.
I love you.
And with my surrender
I regain my strength.
Monday, November 15, 2010
He came
He came for my tongue, he said.
He came for my tongue.
He came for my tongue but my brain must have been jealous. It slipped around my tongue and eased into the spotlight and at the end was alone for the encore.
He came from my brain, he said.
He came from my brain.
He came from my brain and my words and my breath. He came from my whimpers as I slid into that place. My tongue was at work, with my lips and my teeth and my baby girl fist clasped around his cock. My tongue was at work but my words made him cum and for those he will come again and again.
I am very proud of you, he said.
Good girl.
Based partly on my Daddy's own words, which are shared with his permission.
He came for my tongue.
He came for my tongue but my brain must have been jealous. It slipped around my tongue and eased into the spotlight and at the end was alone for the encore.
He came from my brain, he said.
He came from my brain.
He came from my brain and my words and my breath. He came from my whimpers as I slid into that place. My tongue was at work, with my lips and my teeth and my baby girl fist clasped around his cock. My tongue was at work but my words made him cum and for those he will come again and again.
I am very proud of you, he said.
Good girl.
Based partly on my Daddy's own words, which are shared with his permission.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Fame has its rewards - and responsibilities
You may have noticed the little icon below my copyright declaration, after the third lusty lady. I was awarded position #34 on the list of Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2010, as featured on Rori's blog Between My Sheets.
Now, I don't take that designation all that seriously as a guarantee of top quality. It's more a question of "these are some sex blogs we know about and that some of us like and you should check them out because you might like them, too." But you know what? I'm not complaining. I like attention. I like reassurance. I like to be liked - especially as I appeal to specialized tastes and don't have a huge following. You won't see me getting 500 hits a day!
But I'm getting a few more hits now, from the list - and I hope some of the newcomers will like what they find and come back for more.
My inclusion has brought me other attention as well. From marketers. People looking for blogs to promote their stuff. People who don't bother to read what the list is about, and then who don't even take a look at the blogs of the people they approach.
I've gotten 2 overtures so far. The first is from an on-line sex toy company, offering products to review. No one has ever asked me to review sex toys before! I explained that all I could offer with the review were links, that I don't have ads, that I normally can't masturbate, and that I'd need permission from the sadist. He did approve. However, the first 2 items that were suggested mde me burst out laughing. Here I'd been hoping for one of those beautiful Lelo vibrators and instead I was offered pink plush ankle cuffs. Complete with a very thin chain running between them.
Now, please don't be insulted if your favorite toy in the world is a pair of pink, plush ankle cuffs. We all find our pleasure in different ways, and I suspect that many of you would not be thrilled by having an initial carved in your butt with the blunt side of a folding knife. (You can still see its remnants, by the way. Which thrills me. Now. Now that I've recovered from the terror and panic of the experience.)
So if pink, plush ankle cuffs are your favorite toy, enjoy. But that's the problem. They're a toy. And the sadist and I don't play. We don't use toys. The chain he wraps around my neck and pulls up into my cunt is thick and heavy and comes from the local hardware store. The cane is a strip of cherry wood with one end raggedly hacked into a sharp tip. And he doesn't restrain me. He expects me to stay and submit. And I do.
He loves the memory of the first time the beast got the better of him. The first time he gave me a relatively protracted caning. I was down on the dungeon floor, in the required position, my butt naked and vulnerable. He struck. And again. And again.
It hurt.
More than I had ever before experienced.
And what did I do?
What did I do that thoroughly charmed and delighted my tormentor?
I unconsciously reached one step forward with my knee.
As if to escape.
One step only.
And then moved back.
Back into position.
And surrendered to the inevitable.
More than submission.
Surrender.
Even back then.
And in the hotel.
In the hotel, when he beat me with the hairbrush to punish me for my thoughtlessness, when I was so broken-hearted and in such pain that I couldn't hold position, I knew - and he knew - that I would stay and take it. I couldn't hold position. I collapsed flat on the bed. And he brought down the back of the hairbrush again and again on my reddening bottom as I sobbed and sobbed and took it and took it and was restrained by nothing more than my love and my commitment.
If he ever decided to subject me to something requiring restraint, to true torture, there's no way those pink, plush ankle cuffs would be strong enough.
So I wrote back and explained a little about us and about our relationship as opposed to the play some people might get into to spice up their sex lives. Which, again, is a great thing. But it is far from who we are and how we live. She apologized for offending me. Which was sweet. And I wasn't offended. I just needed her to know a little of our truth. So she's sending me something else, and I expect to write an amusing review after I've had a chance to try it out.
Today, however, I received another overture, which was much further off target.
I replied:
I don't expect to hear back.
So.
The rewards?
Getting my ego massaged.
And I still have hopes of someone sending me a nice, expensive Lelo vibrator.
The responsibilities?
Being honest.
And not revealing more than I want to.
PS - here is the complete list of "Top" sex bloggers. I never heard of most of them. I suspect the same goes for most of you. Check out someone new. Just be sure to come back here now and then.
Now, I don't take that designation all that seriously as a guarantee of top quality. It's more a question of "these are some sex blogs we know about and that some of us like and you should check them out because you might like them, too." But you know what? I'm not complaining. I like attention. I like reassurance. I like to be liked - especially as I appeal to specialized tastes and don't have a huge following. You won't see me getting 500 hits a day!
But I'm getting a few more hits now, from the list - and I hope some of the newcomers will like what they find and come back for more.
My inclusion has brought me other attention as well. From marketers. People looking for blogs to promote their stuff. People who don't bother to read what the list is about, and then who don't even take a look at the blogs of the people they approach.
I've gotten 2 overtures so far. The first is from an on-line sex toy company, offering products to review. No one has ever asked me to review sex toys before! I explained that all I could offer with the review were links, that I don't have ads, that I normally can't masturbate, and that I'd need permission from the sadist. He did approve. However, the first 2 items that were suggested mde me burst out laughing. Here I'd been hoping for one of those beautiful Lelo vibrators and instead I was offered pink plush ankle cuffs. Complete with a very thin chain running between them.
Now, please don't be insulted if your favorite toy in the world is a pair of pink, plush ankle cuffs. We all find our pleasure in different ways, and I suspect that many of you would not be thrilled by having an initial carved in your butt with the blunt side of a folding knife. (You can still see its remnants, by the way. Which thrills me. Now. Now that I've recovered from the terror and panic of the experience.)
So if pink, plush ankle cuffs are your favorite toy, enjoy. But that's the problem. They're a toy. And the sadist and I don't play. We don't use toys. The chain he wraps around my neck and pulls up into my cunt is thick and heavy and comes from the local hardware store. The cane is a strip of cherry wood with one end raggedly hacked into a sharp tip. And he doesn't restrain me. He expects me to stay and submit. And I do.
He loves the memory of the first time the beast got the better of him. The first time he gave me a relatively protracted caning. I was down on the dungeon floor, in the required position, my butt naked and vulnerable. He struck. And again. And again.
It hurt.
More than I had ever before experienced.
And what did I do?
What did I do that thoroughly charmed and delighted my tormentor?
I unconsciously reached one step forward with my knee.
As if to escape.
One step only.
And then moved back.
Back into position.
And surrendered to the inevitable.
More than submission.
Surrender.
Even back then.
And in the hotel.
In the hotel, when he beat me with the hairbrush to punish me for my thoughtlessness, when I was so broken-hearted and in such pain that I couldn't hold position, I knew - and he knew - that I would stay and take it. I couldn't hold position. I collapsed flat on the bed. And he brought down the back of the hairbrush again and again on my reddening bottom as I sobbed and sobbed and took it and took it and was restrained by nothing more than my love and my commitment.
If he ever decided to subject me to something requiring restraint, to true torture, there's no way those pink, plush ankle cuffs would be strong enough.
So I wrote back and explained a little about us and about our relationship as opposed to the play some people might get into to spice up their sex lives. Which, again, is a great thing. But it is far from who we are and how we live. She apologized for offending me. Which was sweet. And I wasn't offended. I just needed her to know a little of our truth. So she's sending me something else, and I expect to write an amusing review after I've had a chance to try it out.
Today, however, I received another overture, which was much further off target.
Good Morning,
My name is C-- and I’m part of the Promotions Team here at www.---.com , a Boston based company. We have been seeking out high quality websites and blogs, gauging interest in doing a giveaway with one of our sites.
We love the look and feel of your blog and think that your US and Canadian readers might be interested in a giveaway of a gift certificate valid on any of our 200+ sites!
Have a look at a couple of our sites [she listed 3, one of modern furniture and stuff, one of cooking supplies, and one of children's toys] and let me know if you think that this might be something you’d be interested in. I’d be happy to brainstorm some other ideas with you if you’re interested. Alternatively you could do a review of something from our site.
Please let me know if you have any questions for me. I hope to hear from you to further discuss the details of the giveaway or review.
Kind Regards,
C--
I replied:
Dear C--,
Are you sure you actually looked at my blog? It's called submission & metaphor, and is about my submissive relationship with a creative and highly intelligent sadist. There is poetry, too, and pictures of my cats, but I doubt you would want to advertise your toys there. Still, it really is a high quality website. You might also note that there are no ads, except the one for the book in which one of my stories was published.
However, I have written about an Eames chair (lounge and ottoman) that had been my father's. He probably wouldn't be all that happy to hear that it's my Master's seat of choice for having his cock sucked. The only thing is, a friend who knows these things suspects it's not a genuine Eames chair after all, although my parents are convinced it is. If you want a review, perhaps you could send me a new Eames chair and ottoman and we could do a comparison. I assure you that the piece would be quite different - and much more creative - than what you'll get from most bloggers.
Thanks for contacting me, and do let me know if there is any other way in which I can be of assistance.
Sincerely,
o.g.
I don't expect to hear back.
So.
The rewards?
Getting my ego massaged.
And I still have hopes of someone sending me a nice, expensive Lelo vibrator.
The responsibilities?
Being honest.
And not revealing more than I want to.
PS - here is the complete list of "Top" sex bloggers. I never heard of most of them. I suspect the same goes for most of you. Check out someone new. Just be sure to come back here now and then.
- (Please see this post)
- TBK from The Beautiful Kind
- Iona and James from SapioSlut
- Quizzical Pussy from Quizzical Pussy
- Sadie from Sexie Sadie’s Stories of Seduction
- Vixen from Secrets of a Blue-Eyed Vixen
- Adrian Colesberry from Adrian’s Blog
- EA from Easily Aroused
- Guy New York from Quickies in New York
- Joan from Better Than I Ever Expected: Sex and Aging
- 25 Things from 25 Things About My Sexuality
- AAG from AAG Blog
- Bad, Bad Girl from BBG Blog
- Holden from Packing Vocals
- The blogging team at Sex is Fun
- Elle from Kink Unleashed
- Rachel from Rabbit Write
- Clarisse Thorn from Pro-Sex Outreach, Open-Minded Feminism
- littlegirlyone from littlegirlyland
- Remittance Girl from Remittance Girl
- Mistress Arabella from Bombshells & Rockstars
- Axe from Unspeakable Axe
- Coke Talk from Dear Coke Talk
- Jack from Writing Dirty
- Kayar Silkenvoice from Silken on Sex
- The blogging team at Gentle Nibbles
- Sinclair Sexsmith from Sugarbutch Chronicles
- Lilly from This Could Be Dangerous…
- Kit from Blogging Dangerously
- Mistress Lilyana from Mistress Lilyana
- TitsMcScandal from The Blogging Slave
- suggestivetongue from suggestivetongue
- Library Vixen from Library Vixen
- Oatmeal Girl from Submission & Metaphor
- Riff Dog from Ashley and Me
- Rockin’ with a Cock In from Light Switch
- Dick and Jane from Dick-n-Jane
- Shasta from Stiletto Diaries
- Athol Kay from Married Man Sex Life
- Padme and Anakin from Journey to the Darkside
- PrettyPowerTools from Pretty Power Tools
- Dark Gracie from Gracie’s Playground
- Mollena from The Perverted Negress
- The blogging team at Sex in the Public Square
- The blogging team at Pop My Cherry Review
- Emma and Maymay from Kink on Tap
- Dave from Glimpses of Dave
- Jake from Facts and Friction
- Sylvanus and Mina from At Longing’s End
- Lucy from Sexy Blogtime
- Ms. Naughty from Ms. Naughty Porn for Women Blog
- Wendy Blackheart from Heart Full of Black
- Cin from Seeing My Own Reflection
- Holly from The Pervocracy
- Lady Pandorah from Lady Pandorah’s Sanctuary
- Olga Wolstenholme at Cuntlove
- Jiz Lee from Jiz Lee
- Aubrey from Vagina Drum
- Black Pearl from The Filthy Ramblings of a Dirty Girl on Lock
- Dallas from Naughty Americans
- Jerry Jones from Little Submissions
- Sir Zoomer from Vanilla-Xtract
- Chantelle from Chantelle Austin International
- Gloria from Gloria’s Oversexed Mind
- Insatiable Desire from Insatiable Desire
- Spring Flower from A Girl’s Gotta Have Options
- Epiphora from Hey Epiphora
- Wilhemina from Heartbreak Nymphomania
- Erin from Let’s Eat Cake
- Autumn from The First Day of Autumn
- Kyle from Butchtastic
- Cheeky Minx from Love Hate Sex Cake
- Diva from Debauched Domestic Diva
- Scarlet Lotus St. Syr from Purveyor of Pleasure and Wanton Lotus
- Janie from A Hundred Ways to be Perverse in the Library
- The Secret Slut from The Secretive Slut
- Curvaceous Dee from Curvaceous Dee
- Jefferson from One Life, Take Two
- Kris from Phone Courtesan and Experience Kris
- Lila from ¡Qué sinvergüenza!
- Essin’ Em from Essin’ Em
- Shon Richards from Erotiterrorist
- Violet Blue from Tiny Nibbles
- Evey from Voyeur on Display
- Miss Mia from Things You Can’t Ask Mom
- Coy Pink from No Need to be Coy
- Mistress Matisse from Mistress Matisse’s Journal
- Audacia Ray from Waking Vixen
- That Toy Chick from Desk Full of Dildos
- Britni from Oh My God, That Britni’s Shameless
- SSS and ♀ from Sweat Shop Sissy
- Ferns from Domme Chronicles
- Jerome Nichols from Let’s Talk About Sex
- Dreamwalker from Dreamwalker Sadistic Poet
- Dr. Petra from Dr. Petra Boynton’s Blog
- Viemoira from Cavern of the Beast
- Shirley from Reptillian Prostitute
- Carrie Ann from A View from the Floor
- Sophia St. James from Sophia St. James XXX
- YOU! As always that last person on the list is you. Please, please, please leave a comment below promoting your own blog (or the blog of someone you love). Links are welcome, as long as they lead us to a sex-related blog, not a retail website or porn aggregation site.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
To be dominated. To submit. Which do you really need?
We tend to think of them together.
D/s.
Dominance and submission.
The other person tells you what to do,
and you do it.
The other person does things to you,
and you take it.
But in another recent discussion with the sadist, he raised a question about underlying need. "There is a difference between being dominated and submitting," he said. Which made me stop and think.
He's right, of course.
I'm not being judgmental here, though he obviously sees a clear hierarchy with respect to his own needs. But for anyone else, I don't care. Certainly anyone involved in BDSM knows that different people are happiest with different kinds of relationships, sexual or otherwise. But what if there is a disconnect between what the different sides of the relationship are after? And what if there is a mismatch between what you really need and what you think you are after? That can add even further stress if you are trying to achieve some ideal version of submission when what you really enjoy is being dominated.
So what's the difference? Dominance and submission seem to be no more than 2 ends of a teeter-totter (as we used to call a seesaw), with one needing the other in order to work. But try thinking of it this way. As a submissive, what is it that drives you? Or rather, what do you feel driven to do? What is it that fulfills you? What is it that turns you on, not just physically but also mentally, emotionally?
His (or Her) standing over you?
His bringing his hand down on your unprotected ass?
His fucking you without letting you cum?
His calling you humiliating names?
His making you go out in slutty clothes?
His saying that you are his to do with as he wishes?
Or your giving yourself up to him (or her)?
Feeling safer when someone else encloses your life?
Kneeling not because it feels good,
or makes you wet,
or because you've been told that's what a sub does
in this or that position out of a book,
but because it is the only way to approach showing how you feel?
As you've probably figured out if you've been reading here for a while, I am intensely submissive. As the sadist said on Friday, what I offer is beyond submission. I need to submit, he says. And more than that. I need to surrender.
That doesn't deny that I've struggled with it. I am headstrong and willful and forgetful, with a tendency to confusion. I've been fighting people all my life, fighting a world that doesn't understand me, that rejects me, so that now that I've met someone who does accept me, does understand me, and whose efforts have helped me understand my true self, I have trouble letting go of the urge to resist. But I'm making progress, and because he knows what lies within me he looks past my missteps and moves slowly and inexorably towards his goal.
So that's the question for the day.
In which direction do your needs flow?
How much of it is about the physical exchanges?
How much is about the mental connection?
How much is about the high?
How much is about the wet spot forming between your legs?
And how much is about the need to let go,
to give,
to obey,
and to surrender...
This may not make sense.
And there are no right answers.
The only right answer is your own truth.
And the next question is - how does your truth match your dom's needs?
D/s.
Dominance and submission.
The other person tells you what to do,
and you do it.
The other person does things to you,
and you take it.
But in another recent discussion with the sadist, he raised a question about underlying need. "There is a difference between being dominated and submitting," he said. Which made me stop and think.
He's right, of course.
I'm not being judgmental here, though he obviously sees a clear hierarchy with respect to his own needs. But for anyone else, I don't care. Certainly anyone involved in BDSM knows that different people are happiest with different kinds of relationships, sexual or otherwise. But what if there is a disconnect between what the different sides of the relationship are after? And what if there is a mismatch between what you really need and what you think you are after? That can add even further stress if you are trying to achieve some ideal version of submission when what you really enjoy is being dominated.
So what's the difference? Dominance and submission seem to be no more than 2 ends of a teeter-totter (as we used to call a seesaw), with one needing the other in order to work. But try thinking of it this way. As a submissive, what is it that drives you? Or rather, what do you feel driven to do? What is it that fulfills you? What is it that turns you on, not just physically but also mentally, emotionally?
His (or Her) standing over you?
His bringing his hand down on your unprotected ass?
His fucking you without letting you cum?
His calling you humiliating names?
His making you go out in slutty clothes?
His saying that you are his to do with as he wishes?
Or your giving yourself up to him (or her)?
Feeling safer when someone else encloses your life?
Kneeling not because it feels good,
or makes you wet,
or because you've been told that's what a sub does
in this or that position out of a book,
but because it is the only way to approach showing how you feel?
As you've probably figured out if you've been reading here for a while, I am intensely submissive. As the sadist said on Friday, what I offer is beyond submission. I need to submit, he says. And more than that. I need to surrender.
That doesn't deny that I've struggled with it. I am headstrong and willful and forgetful, with a tendency to confusion. I've been fighting people all my life, fighting a world that doesn't understand me, that rejects me, so that now that I've met someone who does accept me, does understand me, and whose efforts have helped me understand my true self, I have trouble letting go of the urge to resist. But I'm making progress, and because he knows what lies within me he looks past my missteps and moves slowly and inexorably towards his goal.
So that's the question for the day.
In which direction do your needs flow?
How much of it is about the physical exchanges?
How much is about the mental connection?
How much is about the high?
How much is about the wet spot forming between your legs?
And how much is about the need to let go,
to give,
to obey,
and to surrender...
This may not make sense.
And there are no right answers.
The only right answer is your own truth.
And the next question is - how does your truth match your dom's needs?
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