Mr. S and I met on Sunday for what proved to be a defining moment in my journey. With my tits and ass bruised and sore, my shoulders aching from being bound and the word ‘dirt’ tattooed in black marker across my stomach, it is still difficult to process everything in my mind. Overall, it was an amazing and positive experience that I am looking forward to repeating with him, as well as trusted others.
As I deal with the thoughts and emotions swirling in my head one thing is utterly clear – Mr. S was an unwavering gentleman, even within his sadistic beatings of my tender ass. I am more convinced then ever my decision to trust and learn from him was the right one. The trust and respect bond I felt with him, giving over complete control – especially while tied up, was something not ordinarily felt with a lover. I will be difficult to replicate, but he has shown me that it does exist.
My suffering body is on the mend, as is my mind with the massive endorphin high & drop and I am beginning to mesh the physical feelings with the mental aspect and sort out a new reality. I am not close to articulating what that reality is, but I suspect it will be soon.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Homework Assignments
As the conversations with Mr. S have become more detailed as to what I wanted to feel (I still wasn't really sure) and/or derive from my experiences with him, he started to give me assignments or tasks to complete. Much along the same thread that J did. Something to remind me that I was under someone's control. A test to see if I would comply, perhaps. The tasks started out simple. Describe my breasts, my cunt. Tell him what it felt like to touch my nipples, to masturbate. Then he told me I was to masturbate twice a day, without coming to orgasm. Huh? My first reaction was "of course, no problem." Because if it was a problem he would never know. Unlike J he required no photographic evidence of my heeding his wishes, he was to take me at my word. He would trust me.
It took me exactly 20 or so seconds into the first session that I realized that I would obey completely. Why would I short change myself on this experience by being even a tad insolent. Of course I could lie, and he would never know. But what if he took that same stance? I am trusting him to bind me, to take my body and mind places it has never been before - the thought of him lying to me under those circumstances was unthinkable. Why would I not want to delivery to him the same. So, masturbate (without orgasm) I did. Twice a day, which he eventually upped to thrice a day. Mr. S did say that at anytime I could call and ask permission for an orgasm, but as the days drew on it seemed it was more important for me to savor the experience and give both myself and him, the first orgasm of my week in person.
The masturbation was difficult, I like to orgasm. But as the few days became several I noticed that as the finish line was no longer a goal or even a possibility, the race became what was important. I spent time with my body. I found new ways of touching myself that frankly, just never occurred to me before. New places to touch, new positions, discovered ways of holding off that big finish for an astonishingly (to me) amount of time. It was amazing. My typical masturbation session went from about 5-10 minutes (with orgasm) to upwards of 30-40 minutes without. Who knew! He soon added in nipple play to my self-torture. Pinching and pulling as hard as I can for a count of 60. Again, I relished in it. I treated myself as if he were watching and with never a thought to disappoint or to non-compliance.
It was the completion of an outstanding assignment that fucked with me the most. Within the first few conversations we had Mr. S asked for some photos of me. Nude, and full frontal. I promptly sent tit photos, cute pics of me dressed to go out, anything I could find but nude and full frontal. So interesting that I was planning to have this man to all sorts of terrible things to my body, and the thing that scared me the most was him seeing my naked self. While not "need the extra seat belt thing on an airplane" fat, I am not a tiny girl. I am not attractive naked. I, like so many other women, am plagued by body issues. I don't want to see my naked, why would anyone else. The more I tried to avoid it, the more it became clear I would not be able to. Mr. S finally put his foot down and reminded me that my nudity was my submission. Got it. Photos were taken and sent. I don't believe it was 10 minutes after I hit send before I received the first text message telling me how beautiful I am. Consequently, where I might have been terrified to have him see me...lights on, that fear is gone. It will not be a thought in my head when we meet. Self-esteem boosting, yet another ancillary benefit I have found with my limited experience within the BDSM community. Beauty is not conventional and is found in unexpected packages. A lesson I have tried to teach myself that often, but it never seems to stick. I think this might be the time.
As I sit, less then 48 hours from a potential life changing chapter, I have so much in my head that it hard to parse out. It is almost as if these two weeks was to short of amount of time to process everything. Thankfully I have an amazing teacher and an every growing, amazing support structure within the community.
"I see a beautiful canvas on which I will write dominance and pain." ~Mr. S
It took me exactly 20 or so seconds into the first session that I realized that I would obey completely. Why would I short change myself on this experience by being even a tad insolent. Of course I could lie, and he would never know. But what if he took that same stance? I am trusting him to bind me, to take my body and mind places it has never been before - the thought of him lying to me under those circumstances was unthinkable. Why would I not want to delivery to him the same. So, masturbate (without orgasm) I did. Twice a day, which he eventually upped to thrice a day. Mr. S did say that at anytime I could call and ask permission for an orgasm, but as the days drew on it seemed it was more important for me to savor the experience and give both myself and him, the first orgasm of my week in person.
The masturbation was difficult, I like to orgasm. But as the few days became several I noticed that as the finish line was no longer a goal or even a possibility, the race became what was important. I spent time with my body. I found new ways of touching myself that frankly, just never occurred to me before. New places to touch, new positions, discovered ways of holding off that big finish for an astonishingly (to me) amount of time. It was amazing. My typical masturbation session went from about 5-10 minutes (with orgasm) to upwards of 30-40 minutes without. Who knew! He soon added in nipple play to my self-torture. Pinching and pulling as hard as I can for a count of 60. Again, I relished in it. I treated myself as if he were watching and with never a thought to disappoint or to non-compliance.
It was the completion of an outstanding assignment that fucked with me the most. Within the first few conversations we had Mr. S asked for some photos of me. Nude, and full frontal. I promptly sent tit photos, cute pics of me dressed to go out, anything I could find but nude and full frontal. So interesting that I was planning to have this man to all sorts of terrible things to my body, and the thing that scared me the most was him seeing my naked self. While not "need the extra seat belt thing on an airplane" fat, I am not a tiny girl. I am not attractive naked. I, like so many other women, am plagued by body issues. I don't want to see my naked, why would anyone else. The more I tried to avoid it, the more it became clear I would not be able to. Mr. S finally put his foot down and reminded me that my nudity was my submission. Got it. Photos were taken and sent. I don't believe it was 10 minutes after I hit send before I received the first text message telling me how beautiful I am. Consequently, where I might have been terrified to have him see me...lights on, that fear is gone. It will not be a thought in my head when we meet. Self-esteem boosting, yet another ancillary benefit I have found with my limited experience within the BDSM community. Beauty is not conventional and is found in unexpected packages. A lesson I have tried to teach myself that often, but it never seems to stick. I think this might be the time.
As I sit, less then 48 hours from a potential life changing chapter, I have so much in my head that it hard to parse out. It is almost as if these two weeks was to short of amount of time to process everything. Thankfully I have an amazing teacher and an every growing, amazing support structure within the community.
"I see a beautiful canvas on which I will write dominance and pain." ~Mr. S
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
To Serve and Be Protected
One of the most startling feelings I developed towards J was that of protection. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would protect me. I was his to keep safe. For the exception of a few male friends that would gut the first person to hurt me, and a wonderful LTR boyfriend, I had not felt that secure since I was a child. Strange words to say about someone that fully enjoyed inflecting physical pain upon me.
It is difficult for me to articulate this to the other women in my life. They see a fiercely independent, career oriented, very successful, and extraordinarily dominant girl. I think what they miss is the girl that spends 95% of her time taking care of others, that craves to be taken care of herself. Yes, my definition of being taken care of differs from the norm, but the end result is the same. I want and need that feeling of safety. I was in his keep and he was obliged to protect me.
One of the first, in depth conversations Mr. S and I had was one regarding my hard limits and boundaries. After providing my list and still feeling unsure of myself, Mr. S said these words to me "I do not break my toys". Few words but with immense meaning. I was his toy, his property and he would not break his plaything nor allow anyone else to break what was under his care. Whether bound, gagged, whipped or beaten (perhaps all of the above) I am, and will be, protected while in his presence. No one else can match that.
It is difficult for me to articulate this to the other women in my life. They see a fiercely independent, career oriented, very successful, and extraordinarily dominant girl. I think what they miss is the girl that spends 95% of her time taking care of others, that craves to be taken care of herself. Yes, my definition of being taken care of differs from the norm, but the end result is the same. I want and need that feeling of safety. I was in his keep and he was obliged to protect me.
One of the first, in depth conversations Mr. S and I had was one regarding my hard limits and boundaries. After providing my list and still feeling unsure of myself, Mr. S said these words to me "I do not break my toys". Few words but with immense meaning. I was his toy, his property and he would not break his plaything nor allow anyone else to break what was under his care. Whether bound, gagged, whipped or beaten (perhaps all of the above) I am, and will be, protected while in his presence. No one else can match that.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Journey Begins - Again
The first time I read 'The Story of O' I knew I was not alone. I knew that there were other women like me. Incredibly strong, intelligent, self-confident, and independent women who not only enjoy, but feel empowered by being sexually owned and dominated by others.
I put the fantasy in the back of my head for several years, afraid to talk about it. My girlfriends were as equally horrified with the Story as I was entranced. They would not understand. My boyfriend, as wonderful and generous a lover as he was, could never bring our level of play to the limits I wanted to reach - and eventually cross. I spent the majority of my 20s and the better part of my 30s reading everything I could about the Dom/sub community. Itching to get involved and not having a clue where to start.
My first major move was to attend a Denver sex convention in 2006. The convention was basically a very, large porn store but complete with a Real. Live. Dungeon. It took me most of the day to wander into the back corner, but once I did, it took effort to get me out. It was there that I discovered the beauty that is Japanese Rope Bondage - Shibari. It was also where I discovered the Kilted Man wielding a violet wand. I allowed the Kilted Man to lay me on a massage table and show me (in a very limited fashion) what I had been missing. I was hooked.
I attended a BDSM 101 seminar, a Latex seminar and an additional session on the violet wand. I could not remember the last time I felt as fully free with my sexuality as I did that day.
I promptly repressed my kink for another three years. In 2009 I found like-minds in a somewhat unexpected place, Twitter. I made contacts, I spoke to people and arranged a meeting with someone that I never should have. There was little discussion, little negotiation, and consequently little trust. But, I was desperate to explore so I forged ahead without allowing my discomfort to be heard. A horrible night and a date-rape later, and I was back in the closet. I was convinced that my combination of poor judgment and near desperate desire to explore was a continual recipe for disaster. Until I met J. He wanted to show me things and push me places that I knew I wanted to go, but was so afraid. The level of trust he created was extreme, not a stitch of clothing came of prior to a good month of conversations. I allowed him to cross lines and discover new lines and boundaries and my benefit was to discover new levels of passion and sensuality that I have never felt before. Yes, I do like to be bound. Yes, I do like hot candle wax dripped across my tits. Yes, I do liked to be slapped across the face, have my hair pulled, choked and called a filthy whore all the while having orgasms in waves (and buckets!).
After our first play session, J held me for hours. Stroked my hair, kissed my face, rubbed my sore backside with a degree of tenderness that was almost more shocking then his brutality. He told me he was proud of me, how good I was, how happy I made him. And for all you naysayers, there was not a condescending note within his body. Because of my travel schedule, I was out of town often and he began to introduce some remote play. Photographing my panties for him to choose which I would wear for the day. Controlling my ability to have an orgasm when masturbating, I must call for permission. Expecting me to ask permission to be with someone else - this was never denied, but I was to ask first. And you know what? It was one of the hottest times in my life. My level of sexual need & desire, and the sexiness of how I felt about myself was off the charts. I was happy and that touched every facet of my life. I was more confident, more successful at my job, more giving to those in my life. Happy.
And then he was abruptly gone. So abrupt in fact, that there was much unfinished business. Lines not crossed, new frontiers not forged, and other meaningless metaphors left incomplete.
Four months and an inexplicable hole in my heart/mind/soul later and I have found a new teacher, Mr.S. One who could prove to be a pivotal piece as my journey continues.....
I put the fantasy in the back of my head for several years, afraid to talk about it. My girlfriends were as equally horrified with the Story as I was entranced. They would not understand. My boyfriend, as wonderful and generous a lover as he was, could never bring our level of play to the limits I wanted to reach - and eventually cross. I spent the majority of my 20s and the better part of my 30s reading everything I could about the Dom/sub community. Itching to get involved and not having a clue where to start.
My first major move was to attend a Denver sex convention in 2006. The convention was basically a very, large porn store but complete with a Real. Live. Dungeon. It took me most of the day to wander into the back corner, but once I did, it took effort to get me out. It was there that I discovered the beauty that is Japanese Rope Bondage - Shibari. It was also where I discovered the Kilted Man wielding a violet wand. I allowed the Kilted Man to lay me on a massage table and show me (in a very limited fashion) what I had been missing. I was hooked.
I attended a BDSM 101 seminar, a Latex seminar and an additional session on the violet wand. I could not remember the last time I felt as fully free with my sexuality as I did that day.
I promptly repressed my kink for another three years. In 2009 I found like-minds in a somewhat unexpected place, Twitter. I made contacts, I spoke to people and arranged a meeting with someone that I never should have. There was little discussion, little negotiation, and consequently little trust. But, I was desperate to explore so I forged ahead without allowing my discomfort to be heard. A horrible night and a date-rape later, and I was back in the closet. I was convinced that my combination of poor judgment and near desperate desire to explore was a continual recipe for disaster. Until I met J. He wanted to show me things and push me places that I knew I wanted to go, but was so afraid. The level of trust he created was extreme, not a stitch of clothing came of prior to a good month of conversations. I allowed him to cross lines and discover new lines and boundaries and my benefit was to discover new levels of passion and sensuality that I have never felt before. Yes, I do like to be bound. Yes, I do like hot candle wax dripped across my tits. Yes, I do liked to be slapped across the face, have my hair pulled, choked and called a filthy whore all the while having orgasms in waves (and buckets!).
After our first play session, J held me for hours. Stroked my hair, kissed my face, rubbed my sore backside with a degree of tenderness that was almost more shocking then his brutality. He told me he was proud of me, how good I was, how happy I made him. And for all you naysayers, there was not a condescending note within his body. Because of my travel schedule, I was out of town often and he began to introduce some remote play. Photographing my panties for him to choose which I would wear for the day. Controlling my ability to have an orgasm when masturbating, I must call for permission. Expecting me to ask permission to be with someone else - this was never denied, but I was to ask first. And you know what? It was one of the hottest times in my life. My level of sexual need & desire, and the sexiness of how I felt about myself was off the charts. I was happy and that touched every facet of my life. I was more confident, more successful at my job, more giving to those in my life. Happy.
And then he was abruptly gone. So abrupt in fact, that there was much unfinished business. Lines not crossed, new frontiers not forged, and other meaningless metaphors left incomplete.
Four months and an inexplicable hole in my heart/mind/soul later and I have found a new teacher, Mr.S. One who could prove to be a pivotal piece as my journey continues.....
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