Doors lead to...

Heavy door (I knew it would be)
Opening into a quiet, dark entryway (I knew it would be, too)
I can’t even hear a clock ticking it’s so quiet.
He said wait.
So here, I’ll wait.

It only takes him two steps (he was close, and I didn’t know it)
To get to me, one hand (warm hand, long fingers)
To wrap around my face, and cover my mouth
The other entwining itself in long blonde hair
Pulling and pushing my head backwards at the same time, he says.

“Hello, whore.”

Knowing

I’ve taken this weekend to get my thoughts in order, more or less. When I first put up profiles on here and AFF, I had a different sort of thing in mind for myself, but after having chatted with some very interesting people from both sites, I’m starting to re-evaluate what I want and need in my life.

I find myself responding less and less on AFF. I have met some wonderful people there, and will continue to participate in the local groups and hang out with friends I have made (which is what I really wanted from there, anyway). But frankly, a vanilla lover holds little interest for me now. Before I dove headlong back into BDSM, it did, but now. Eh.

It’s good to know what you want, though /wink. Even wanting something you know you’re going to hate, and accepting both ends of that, is helpful. The writing I’ve done on here in the last few days has greatly helped. Just getting the thoughts on paper (errr…screen) helps. Seeing things in black and white makes it much easier to navigate the shades of grey.

I’d love it if I could find a munch group here in Madison, but as of yet, I haven’t. I know there is a club here – to play – but a single woman going to a club like that, not knowing anyone – it’s just not my idea of a good time, ya know? Munches were the way to go on the west coast, and I seriously enjoyed the time I spent organizing them and attending them out there. I may have to do something like that here if I can’t find one soon. I know there are some in Milwaukee, and it’s not that far of a drive. But I’d prefer local for stuff like that.

Beholden

In my last post, I made mention that life was different for me in California. I lived alone, had no rules, no one to answer to but myself.

What I didn’t say then, but will say now, is that the reason I didn’t stay with that kind of life is because that’s not what I want.

I want to be held responsible for my actions. I want to be beholden to someone for what I do. Not all the time, and not a micro-manager, but someone who will hold me accountable for being a good girl.

I have always been the stand-up one. The one who made sure everything got done, bills paid, laundry put away, birthday cards sent, phone calls made to people that needed to be called. I have always been the one who took responsibility for everything. In those moments/weeks/months/years that I had a dominant that put all of that stuff in my hands, and then held me accountable to doing it, it seemed to make doing it less of a chore, and more of a joy. I still do all those things – I have to, there’s no one else to do it lol. But doing them for myself is a chore. Not one I mind so much, but a chore nonetheless.

I explain my submission sometimes by saying that in a world where I am responsible to everyone and for everything, it’s nice to set aside a block of time where I am only responsible to one person and myself. It’s nice to just let everything else go. Be responsible to feel, to act, to be only.

Years ago, I tried to analyze that (as I try to analyze every damn thing in my life) but I gave up. It doesn’t matter why I want it. It’s not a psychosis for fucks sake, It’s not a mental illness, it’s just who I am, what makes me happy and comfortable, and what I want in my life.

Now, being able to have that without having a full-blown romantic relationship with someone – I dunno. I know it’s possible. I mentioned my friend P from California. Her Master was gay. Old guard leather gay, from San Francisco. There was no romantic relationship there. She served, he taught her how, he imposed, she bowed. So I know it’s possible. But it just seems very rare these days.

So, as I said yesterday, maybe what I’m looking for isn’t what I’m going to find, and I should revisit my list.

But I can hope, right?

The Cane Queen

When I lived out on the left coast many moons ago, life was much different. I had broken up with a dominant, was living in my own place, and enjoying my single life greatly. I had no rules, only my own. I attended parties up in San Jose and San Francisco. I played with who I wanted to play with, and I started topping girls at an unusually quick pace *grin*.

I had one particular bottom out there who I’ll call P. P was a cane slut. Her gay Master showed me a few cane tricks, and I began topping P. in earnest any time she and I went to a party together. I started topping other girls with canes. I quickly became addicted to the squeals of glee, and I earned the title of “Cane Queen”. I have several canes of my own in the closet, in addition to a huge bag of other toys that are sadly in need of use.

I was relating this story to a dominant on the phone one night, when he asked me how I felt about the cane being used on me. I had to answer him truthfully, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one used on me.” *gulp*

Yea, I knew what was coming next. So do you, don’t you?

He made mention of the fact, with a slight hint of amusement in his voice, that “we’d” have to remedy that. And then proceeded to use the example for punishment.

*gulps more*

You don’t suppose that my lovely, beautiful canes would take any pleasure in hitting their Mistress, do you? (of course they will. They’re fickle little bastards)

It’s not that I’m afraid (ok, maybe a little) of them. It’s just that that’s typically not the kind of pain I can process easily. There’s nowhere to go with that sting that keeps on stinging. As punishment, I’m sure it’s quite effective.

Maybe I’ll burn them before we play *grin*

Submitting to the Muses

I’m just writing like a fiend today. I guess a large part of that is I haven’t had time to write almost all week – not seriously anyway – and my brain has been going a mile a minute.

With each step I take back into the BDSM arena, more and more of what I’ve been missing comes to light. Things I’d forgotten. Things I didn’t even realize that I missed.

The simple act of control: Allowing someone the means to taking what they want from me, how they want it, at their will and whim. Allowing someone to pull my hair back off my shoulders so that they can bite them – allowing someone to pull my hands behind my back to be restrained. Simple things, really. All showing the giving up of control. All things I have desperately missed.

I find myself taking bits and pieces of conversations and mixing them with other conversations and coming up with fantastic ideas for erotic short stories. But I’m not writing any. And that, I have no reason for.

I think I’ll have to remedy that tonight, either with some poetry or a story.

I submit myself to the Muses~ Do with me as you will.

Cry for me bitch~

You want me to what?

Cry.

Oh. Well.

All right. Then make me cry. (and not by telling bad jokes either, please)

Seriously. My ex and I talked about this many times. But for whatever reason, as much as he wanted to do it (or said he did), he never even made the attempt. I dunno. The more I think about it, the more I believe that maybe with me he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

I wish he had. It might have helped us both. But that is neither here nor there any longer.

I have to admit the idea appeals to me for some reason. Maybe it’s because I don’t often cry anymore. Maybe it’s because the thought of someone evoking that kind of emotion from me on purpose is emotionally disturbing. Maybe it’s because…well, maybe it’s just because I haven’t been beaten like that in a long time, and I want it. Maybe it’s because someone “having their way” with me (whatever way that is) while growling “Cry for me, bitch” in my ear makes me want to pass out.

I didn’t even know there was a kink for that until I saw it on the fetish checklist. Must be something added recently, as it wasn’t there a couple years ago.

I personally think that there are men who just enjoy the mascara running down our cheeks, and knowing they evoked it. And there’s nothing wrong with that – not at all. I just think that’s a “makeup” kink *grin*

It’s just one of the things on the “list” that sounds extremely appealing to me, but I haven’t really done (with any purpose) in play. I guess we’ll see what we see.

One or Many

So, I made a comment in a previous post that went something like

“About the three dominants I've been chatting with and how different they all are. And about how nice it would be if I could just say - "I want one dominant" and make it be just that - no big romance relationship - just one dominant that I am responsible to.”

Over the past several days, I’ve given that a lot of thought. And while it would be nice to find one man who can satisfy my need for bondage, discipline, pain, “daddy” and out-and-out rough sex, I think I might be setting my sights a bit high.

In truth, I’ve never juggled more than one dominant at a time, and the idea of it (without the reality of knowing) seems a bit daunting. (As a side note, I’d love to talk to any submissives who have done this – real time, not cyber wise – to hear the perks and pitfalls). The reality is that I’m not currently in the market for a full time thing. Full time being live in, monogamous merging. I have a desire to explore some things, enjoy some things – and those explorations really don’t fit in with a one-on-one full time relationship. I mean, I guess they could with the right person, but I haven’t met a person like that, yet :P And even though my profile pretty clearly states that that’s not what I’m looking for, you’d be surprised at the number of dominants who don’t believe it.

How would I feel if I actually connected with one who wanted me to be submissive only to him? I guess it would depend on him; does he have enough of the above traits I’m looking for that I would be satisfied? Does he have my respect and trust? Do I feel that he would fulfill the things that I want and need in my life? If so, then ya – I might actually consider it. It certainly would make life easier.

Suffer

While I realize this song isn’t about dominance and submission, some of the lyrics reflect how I feel.

Criminal, Fiona Apple
I've done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
I've come to you 'cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin

This is how I feel about punishment.

If I’ve done something wrong, by all means, punish me immediately and let it be over with. I’m not a person who enjoys carrying around bucketfuls of guilt and shame, and I would much rather take the punishment of his choosing and know it was over with, then and there. Life is far too short to spend hours of your time trying to fix a wrong, wishing you had behaved differently, or asking repeatedly for forgiveness.

It’s also how I feel about pain.

“I want to suffer for my sins” conjures up so many frightening and yet breathtakingly arousing pictures. I prefer to take my pain for someone else. I want to suffer for someone who wants me to. No, it’s not a *gift* to them or a selfless act; not at all. I do it for me. It makes me hot to “take it for someone else’s pleasure.” I’m not a masochist. I thought for a long time that I was, but the truth is, there are very few acts of pain that turn me on physically. Oh, I like rough hot nasty mean sex as much as the next person *chuckle* don’t get me wrong. But I’m not talking about sex here. I’m talking about “play”. For lots of folks, those two are the same, but not for me. They can be mingled and mixed together, certainly. But I’m able easily to keep them separate as well.

I’m of the mind that the proper partner for a sadist is a submissive, not a masochist. If you use the finite definitions of those two words, a sadist isn’t whacking on someone for their pleasure; he’s wanting them to suffer and hurt. And a masochist, at some level, isn’t suffering at all, she’s getting off. That, of course, is my own little opinion and I’m welcome to it ?

"He who lets me get away with murder."

I think I’ve said this before. But I actually have some quiet time today and can expound on some past bits of wisdom and thought.

I don’t want to get away with anything.

The minute a dominant lets something slide, unless there is a mental or physical reason for it, I start rebelling in a major way. I start testing boundaries, seeing what else I can get away with. It’s often subconscious; I’m typically not a person who plays games (they piss me off and I always lose), but every once in awhile, I catch myself pushing against something, just to see if I can break it.

*shrug* Maybe that means I’m a true brat, I dunno. I really don’t believe that. If I’m in a relationship with a dominant who has gained my respect and trust, the brat only comes out occasionally for both of our pleasure; to release him from any guilt of actually doing something we both enjoy (punishment) and to give him a reason to swat my ass~.

It’s different, though, if someone starts letting me get away with things. Both of my last two dominants did that. It wasn’t a one-shot thing – like they were tired or over-worked or stressed out and just ignored my misplaced brattiness or overlooked a broken rule. That’s expected in any relationship – vanilla, chocolate or mint. No, they just stopped being actively dominant. My first response to that is to become more actively submissive, and when that doesn’t work, I really start pushing. Is it right? No, probably not. But let’s face it; That’s what I’m here for. To be dominated and have rules and such. That’s what I enjoy, that’s what feeds me and makes me feel alive. And no matter how much you love someone, putting your own needs on hold only works for so long before you start sliding into the oblivion of depression.

In both cases, it was sad to see the relationship degenerate to such a level of vanilla-ness, because in the beginning, things had been heavenly. In all relationships, there are ebbs and flows, but if the reason you got into the relationship suddenly goes away for a long period of time – no amount of love is going to fill that gap for an extended period.

I don’t think I was really aware of any of this – the reasons that I do some of the things I do to push – until recently. Now that I am, however, it makes weeding through the emails much easier. I can almost tell immediately when someone is going to be “he who lets me get away with murder.”

Fear. Desire. Respect

Fear.
Respect.
Desire.

These will determine how I react when you call me a whore, when you grab my hair and shove your cock past my lips, when you slap yourself across my cheek.

They will determine how willingly I move to do as you ask. Do I feel a threat of force? Do I feel a need to bend my will to yours? Do I feel a wetness spread across my inner lips when you cock your head and narrow your eyes at me?

Do I want to do it for you? or for me?

And more importantly, what lurks in the back of my mind if I willfully decide to refuse?

*grin*

Freedom

"The greatest freedom we have is obedience."

Quote from HBO's Big Love, which I finally caught up with today.

I had to write that quote down. It's mildly prolific and eloquently profound when applied to the submissive end of BDSM.

I certainly feel that, when submitting. I know it's trite and said often enough to make people vomit, but think on it. Being free to do as I wish is something we're basically handed at birth in this country. (providing you follow the rules and laws ya ya ya).

But the freedom to absolutely let go of all of your hangs ups and worries and stigmas and issues - and to simply submit to someone else's will - allows you another kind of freedom. The freedom to feel with no worries about what you're feeling

Standing

Fictious but delicious

Standing
Copyright 2006, Kanthra Adaire
All Rights Reserved

I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t know.
I asked before I came to see you but you didn’t ever answer me directly.
The shock on my face was real.
The tightness in my chest was real.
The inability to breathe was real.
Your eyes. Good lord, your eyes went dark.
I had seen them light only moments before, when I arrived.
Then dark, nearly black, almost invisible in the dim light.
(I’ll ask you later how you did that)
The sharp edge to your voice cut more deeply into my skin
Then your belt did.
Your words pounded my temples
As the blood pounded against my ass from where the leather hit
(no amount of I’m sorry’s helped)
The tears were real.
My cries were real.
My pain was very real.
Internal, external, no matter.
It was what you needed
(and I told you that you should always take what you need…)
And it was what I needed, too
It put me on solid ground
No matter how weak my knees felt.
I’ve never known so quickly where I stood.
And never wanted to stand there more.

Dating

Had an interesting conversation with my mother yesterday.

She’s one of the first people who told me that it was time to get divorced. “You’ve given him a year, that’s more than anyone else would have.” She was right then.

So I told her yesterday on our way back from shopping that I’m going to just “date”. I like having my own space at home, and I have no need for a one-guy relationship right now. She said “good for you!”

I was floored by that. My own mother, advocating the possibility of her born-and-raised-Catholic daughter being potentially promiscuous. *snicker*

I think my mom would have preferred a different life than she had. I know she wouldn’t have been as extreme as I am, but I’d wager a guess she’d have been a little wilder.

On the other hand, maybe she’s just tired of seeing me get run over by the love train, and wants me to take a break /wink.

"Daddy"

So.

In speaking with one of the dominants I’m getting to know the other night, the subject of “daddy” came up. I have in my profile that that’s something I’m interested in, and have played with before, but he asked me a point blank question, and in truth, I wasn’t sure how to answer it.

(forgive me, S**, I’ll never remember exactly how you worded this…)

The question was something like “Is it really Daddy, or is it just the older man and the younger innocent girl?”

The question actually kinda stopped me in my tracks, because until he said that, I hadn’t ever given it much thought. Truth is, I lost my virginity at 16 tied to my older (23) boyfriend’s waterbed. I have typically liked older men for many reasons (also like younger ones for other reasons entirely).

I’ve done a lot of driving in the last few days. Went up to the Portage area for a meet and greet Friday night, and went to my folks’ yesterday. Car time is think time for me, typically, so I did give this question some thought.

I don’t have any unresolved feelings about my real dad. He’s a great guy – kind, intelligent, affectionate – strict when he had to be (I turned into a wild child at 16, go figure). I find that typically while most people will put the stigma of unresolved issues as an explanation for age play, it’s not really all that true.

My first real experience with age play was in CA, when I was with M. I’m not sure how it started, or why – but it did, and it gave me such a huge burst of sexual strength and energy that I started to crave it. Eventually, we settled into a pattern where “Marie” (my inner child *snicker*) got to come out and play every few months, and that worked for me. In truth, setting aside all of your life experience as an adult to play the part of a 12-14 year old virginal being is not an easy thing. It takes a lot of energy just letting all of your knowledge go for a period of time, and just “being” a child. Not that it isn’t rewarding, fun or sexy as hell – it’s just something that I typically like to mentally prepare for.

I haven’t played with it much since M. My ex, C, didn’t find it remotely appealing (for whatever reason) so it never came into our relationship, and the other brief encounters I’ve had in the last 12 years never felt comfortable enough to bring that out. That’s why I put it in my profile. It’s something I’d like to play with again, to an extent.

I’m finding that there are all sorts of daddy/daughter scenarios. Some I find appealing, some I truly don’t. (I was talking to a dominant, first conversation, and he started to type out this long thing about not doing my homework, and then peeing in the toilet and dipping my toothbrush in it, then brushing my teeth and I just kinda went…uh, pass. Thanks, but not what I’m into).

So, what am I looking for with this?

That’s a really good question that deserves a really good answer. I like the release. I like reverting to a place in time where I had no sexual knowledge or experience, and had to be shown or told what to do, and how to do it. I like the security of that first experience being with someone I “know, love and trust”. It allows an openness and a vulnerability that I do not allow myself very often (I’ve been called a tough cookie more than once in my life, and I do tend to build walls when I’m feeling … not quite safe). (that’s typically why I’m a fan of bondage as well – it removes my ability to argue internally).

And so, would that have to be Daddy? No, I guess in truth it wouldn’t. It could be any older male figure. Daddy, to me, is the most intense of them, but it wouldn’t have to be that. Just someone who made me feel safe and secure enough to let it all go.

I’m still thinking about this, so maybe more to come.

S** is one of the dominants I’ve been chatting with. His name actually begins wit a C, however, so does my ex’s and that would be confusing. S is for his handle. Or Sir :P

Invincible

Invincible

Thursday when I got home from work, I started thinking about what I was going to wear to the local meet and greet for a group I belong to on AFF. As I was putting my outfit together, it occurred to me that I’d dropped a couple sizes in the last couple of months, and I had some new options, namely, my biker jacket. I tried it on. It fit! I was in heaven.

This jacket is symbolic to me. I bought it when my ex in Ca, M., bought his 97 FLSTS at a shop in Santa Cruz. The bike was new, the jacket was new, it was a new experience for us. In 3 years, we put over 30K miles on the bike (and the jacket) and I always felt so free, so strong, so sexy sitting on the back of that machine.

When I slipped the jacket on Thursday night, I felt all of those things again, and felt an additional emotion: I felt invincible.

I love the way the jacket smells, the way it feels against my skin. The weight of it reminds me continuously that it’s there, and I even love the way it creaks when I move. It reminds me of a time when I felt safe, secure, and open to every possibility in life.

I wore it to the meet and greet on Friday and I know it alleviated my fear of meeting new people in a group setting like that. It was wonderful.

Data

I've been at work for 45 minutes. I don't feel like being here. I'd rather be home immersed in writing some deep, detailed, dirty erotica.

It's not that I don't like my job. I do. I'm a systems analyst. I deal with very finite things like programming code and data - things that don't argue, aren't moody and tempremental. I prefer my code and data to working with people. At least with them, I always know where I stand.

People, though. People are different.

I've been "online" for about 13 years now. Started way back with the AOL bastards, and proceeded up to high speed internet :D I've met so many wonderful people - some of which I've actually met and become close friends with offline - from all different walks of life, all different places. I'm involved in community for soap makers, candle makers, navy wives (well, some of us are ex navy wives lol), writing, BDSM, online gaming (mmorpg type), sensuality...the list goes on. And always, there are a few in the bunch who are just...ugh. Moody. Up and kind one day, down and spiteful the next. I do not like working with those kinds of people. I'm a girl who likes to know where my feet are planted, and how firmly :) So I like my data.

Nasty

Nasty.

Someone asked me recently what the nastiest thing I had ever done sexually was. That's such a good question, but so hard to answer. Tastes change over time. Something that might have been VERY nasty to me 15 years ago might be something that is normal to me now.

My ex seemed to have harder and higher limits than mine as far as that goes. There were things that I'd given thought to and wanted to try, but he was very resistent to. And I never knew why. He never said, and if I asked, typically the subject got changed. I got him to put his hand on my throat once, and he slapped me maybe twice, but these were things that were never repeated, even if I asked. I think I started building walls about then. I wanted to protect myself from judgement - I don't know if he was judging my desires or not, but I didn't want to take the chance. This was someone that I didn't want to have to protect myself from, and I resented that, I think. This was the person that I wanted to be able to be 100pct free with, and feel as if I could ask for anything, do anything, feel anything. I thought that's what he wanted too, but his actions were much different than his words. I wanted to be his dirty litle whore, but I ended up being his wife. Maybe he just couldn't - after 12 years of knowing me - see me that way.

I wanted to be nasty. He wanted to be - I dunno. Something else.

I feel a bigger loss from that than anything right now.

Satin

After shopping last night online for some new lingerie, I decided it was time to sort out the stuff I have, and see what's too big, and what fits now that didn't before.

See, I'm a lingerie whore. You might not know it by looking at me, but playing dress up before sex is so much fun for me, especially now that I feel better about how I look in the stuff.

Anyway, I made a pile of stuff I know is too big, and at the bottom of the drawer, I found a chemise - long, dark red, slinky, sexy, floor length (ok, not exactly lingerie, but sexier than the 12 year old tshirt I usually sleep in). I looked at it, and asked myself "Why aren't we sleeping in *that*?"

So I did.

I love the feel of satin against my skin. I slept very well. Even though it's too big now, and sorta just hangs on me, I'm still going to wear it to sleep in, because it makes me feel like a goddess. It's also very sexy because I'm very bare up top, back and shoulders, and my hair dances across my skin in a very sensual way.

So regardless of what I spend my weekend doing (cleaning blech), I get to spend my weekend nights wrapped in satin and feeling very....much like my old self.

There is more to me than this

I'm an intelligent woman. I can hold my end of a conversation about nearly any topic just fine. I'm a systems analyst. I'm a writer.

I have a rich imagination. I dream in stories and colors and smells.

I love to bake, but rarely do. I nearly turned in my geek hat for pastry chef school this past year.Gayle Gand is a personal hero of mine.

I've read the entire Gregory MacGuire series of books. Have you?

Fantasy fiction - stories about other worlds and times - is my current favorite. I've even forayed into writing it a bit.

Sarah McLachlan sings what I feel. Then again, Motley Crue and Bob Seger make me dance, so which is better?

I'm a sucker for....

3 things I'm a sucker for:

a couple of fresh lillies or irises
a bottle of Porfidio
a blank, spiral bound journal, with a fat pen :)