Fantasy Weekend of Fun!

So last weekend was an event we were really looking forward to. Lots of kinky folks. Lots of fun. Two enormous play parties. Excellent presentations and presenters.

But i can't tell you any more than "We had a awesome time." Maybe i could tell you for lunch the first full day, we met up with two wonderful friends, and had dinner with one of our first kinky friends. Maybe i could mention that we learned a lot about ourselves, though i can't tell you how the insight came about. Maybe i could write about the fact that  Master and i played hard . . . if i didn't mention the event (and maybe i'll do that later).

Because the event requires that we don't write about it. In fact, i pulled down our posts about last year's event, because the seriousness with which they take this "don't write about it" is actually frightening. 

i kind of understand why. The privacy concerns associated with the event are of course, at the forefront of the organizers' minds. No one wants to be incidentally outed. But it makes me angry that i can't talk about what Master and i experienced, or how we played. The event was still awesome. And we'll go back every year they have it. Maybe, in time, we won't have to be afraid to share experiences like this. But today, it sucks.

Today, Master and i are lamenting the lack of air conditioning that we enjoyed all weekend. We're lamenting that the fantasy the event inspires has vanished, and real life awaits. We have, as good friends put it, "con-drop" because the convention is over. (sigh)

Hopefully we'll be able to squeeze in some awesome kinky fun at home to share with you. After all, all these bruises on me are good "starting" points for new play. (grin)

An undignified title...

In other words: "squee!!" 

After Master and i attended Thunder in the Mountains last July, we realized (again) just how much we missed being part of the community. When we started out, we were regular attendees of the local PEP (People Exchanging Power), and loved it. We met great people, we had a lot of fun, and we really had the space to experiment with our play. We committed ourselves to finding a way to make ourselves part of the closest local scene again, and this month, we managed to fulfill our early 2012 resolution. The timing all worked out, and though we got lost in our once familiar haunt, we found ourselves at the door.

Inside, we saw familiar faces, and though the traffic and getting lost had left a smudge on our initial moods, watching others engaging in their own scenes lifted our spirits and our excitement and we started looking for a place to play. Master and i really were looking for space to play with the Victor Tella signal whips we picked up at Thunder, and of course, some room for some serious martial arts inspired impact play. It was pretty crowded, so we weren't sure we'd find just the right spot.

It worked out that as soon as Master and i were really ready to get the ball rolling, one scene wrapped up (and was unwrapped - a little rope-pun) and Master and i experimented with the available space. Though many people comment on our pictures over on FetLife about how sexy i am, and many people tell me in person, i admit i have body-hang-ups. Master talked me through them, and pretty soon, i was happily cuffed and Master was whipping away. He started out with the flogger, and though i know it, i don't really remember it clearly. i fell into the scene fast. Nothing remains but the memory of movement, a bite of the tails of the pretty floggers, and Master's gloves. But the Dragon Tongue i do remember; it's pretty red tail biting and "cutting" into my flesh, the way it would lovingly wrap around my ribs to bite the flesh of my breasts, licked around my hips, and landed on my calves. i remember stomping my feet, sometimes turning around to look at Master as the tongue licked at whatever new target i gave Him. i was deep into the sensations of it all. Deep into the energy changing hands between Master and i. He took my pain and devoured it. i took His cruelty and lapped it up.

Even though Master and i have found that i do appreciate the sting of the whips far more than i appreciate more of a thud against me; there is one thud that i cannot get enough of... The feeling of Master using His limbs upon me as weapons. i begged Him to skip the whips, to kick me. As He is ever so kind, He agreed, and re-positioned me so there would be ample room for His intentions. i remember counting two sets of ten, but Master wasn't done with just 20. When i couldn't remember how to keep counting, i was on the verge of good tears. As much as i would have enjoyed crying for Him, i enjoyed what came next at least as much. Now that there was no counting, i was just a punching bag. There was no time to cry, and all i could do was laugh and howl with the joy of the pain Master gave me. Master kicked me, front kicks, side kicks, round kicks...and His fists were a flurry as well. Punches, slaps, and i think i felt a few well placed ridge-hands, landed upon my back, ribs and thighs. my legs crumpled under me as Master used His knowledge of pressure points against me. Left with quivering legs, kneeling upon the floor, held upright only by the cuffs, Master landed a few more blows upon me.

He brought me water (we learned from Thunder...we had it in our scene bag, along with some emergency chocolate and one of my favorite blankets), and we cleared the space for the next players. Initially, i thought i'd want to just curl up somewhere and nurse my sore legs, but once i was following Master i realized that moving felt far better, and we wandered around to watch a few other players.  A good friend, one of our fist friends from the scene, was there and had his claws out. On my already sore body, they were almost like little single jolts of electricity.

Before long, Master and i were set up again, with His jute quickly wrapping around me. There's not a lot from this part that i remember well, either, because i was really just a happy puddle of lovely neurotransmitter goop. Master asked me if i wanted to walk around, but that was pretty beyond my coordination levels, so He bound me down and ripped a couple of orgasms out of my body.

When He'd let me loose, i was pretty quick to bounce back to being frisky, and running away after He'd threatened to spray cold water all over me...

Being there was really, truly great. Fulfilling. We met people, old friends and new friends; had great scenes, connected with our inner Sadist and masochist (well - His Sadist, my masochist) in a way we haven't been able to for a while, and had a grand time indulging in our desires...

It was absolutely, spectacularly, awesome.

The sex at the hotel after the event and the next morning was pretty awesome, too.

And. i who almost never bears marks on my legs, ass or back... Have marks lingering from the event, and a lovely, lingering soreness...

We're seriously looking forward to our next chance!

(taps fingers...)

Weekend of Refreshment:

Master and i were in desprate need of some time together. So much running about with school for both of us, His work, and of course, taking care of our little person had definitely taken its toll.

What better weekend to brave the adventures of our son's first overnight than the weekend of Master's birthday?

Thankfully, my concerns about our boy's first overnight with his grandmother were completely negated and he had a most excellent time, leaving Master and i to have our own fun in a hotel room.

While i expected to be fraught with concern for the kiddo, Master didn't give me time to do so. He immediately put me on the floor, while He sat comfortarbly at the desk/table, while we indulged in a rare treat: KFC. After slurping down energy drinks and letting our tummies settle, Master broke out our toybag. Since we don't really have the space at home, Master felt that first a heavy flogging would be a nice start.

It wasn't easy to sink into the flogging, the impacts, as it had been a long time since we'd had the opportunity to really get into some heavy play. It burned. And i wanted it to stop, but i didn't want it to end, either. i fought against the burning thud, fought to maintain the composure Master asked me to have, and at the same time, my body reacts the way it always does -- more, more, more, please, i want it, i want to hurt that way. i wanted it...

And more there was; Master eventually flipped me around, put spreader bars between my arms and legs, with the spreader bar holding my arms behind the recliner and trapping me oh-so-effectively. At His mercy, with clover clamps crushing my nipples while He whacked my thighs and breasts, clamped tits and whatever other target delighted Him with the evil white plastic spoon, smacked me in the face with His gloved hands, pinched, pulled and smacked my breasts with the same.

But more than the floggings, smackings, beatings, and clamps -- more than anything else up to that point, and maybe more than the pain and pleasure that came later -- was the talk.

Master's voice cuts through me. It just does. It always has.

He told me that He loved me, but that won't save me from His desires. It won't save me from the cruelities that dwell in His heart. He loves me, but as much as He loves me, He wants to hurt me. And i've given myself to Him, and now, now all there is for me to do is suffer through it. i chose to let Him hurt me, forever and a day.

And i made that choice, knowing what He wanted, made that choice because i want to be hurt, and more specifically, want Him to be the one to hurt me.

And that is the deepest, darkest truth in my soul. i knew what He was, and i wanted that.

Hearing that truth spill from His lips made me twitch in all sorts of tasty ways.

(Part one...There will be more -- for there was!)

i miss...

In between all the other stuff that needs doing, i surf the web (now that we have it again!). Mostly i bounce around FetLife and kinky blogs, and this week has been interesting to watch the shifts.

When Master and i started out, we couldn't attend the various Fet/BDSM clubs. But the minute we could, we were right there. Our first event/play party was actually in October of 2000. Ten years ago. And it was awesome. Bigger spaces, more three-dimensional play, people to interact with, compare notes with, become friends with. Our kinky interactions were pretty important to us, and we made some serious efforts to get to as many as we could.

And then, i got the brilliant idea to take a job far, far away from those kinky interactions that were so much a part of our lives. On one hand, we did things then that we never would have had the opportunity to do if we had stayed near the kinky stuff. We wouldn't have made the awesome friends that we did.

But today, i realize how much i miss going to kinky events where i didn't have to hide in the shell of "normal," i miss people remarking on the chemistry and dynamic that Master and i have. i miss seeing braver subs/slaves than i, watching those uber intense scenes between other people. i miss the diversity of the kinky community we were once a part of. i miss having kinky friends who understood.

This house we're in now. It's still awesome. But it is still very, very far away from any sort of public scene. It is very far away from lots of like minded folks.

And reading all the talk about stuff like Kinky Camping (not quite my type of scene, btw., i don't think i like camping anymore), or Kinky College, or finding out what is going on any particular week for a kinky club, makes me miss what Master and i had in the early days.

Complicated/Coexisting

So. School is over. But, somehow or another things aren't as calm and centered as i hoped. i haven't spent a day caged or chained, at His mercy while He takes care of the "real world" confining me to being His object, something unimportant in His life.

And while i'm grateful for His understanding, His patience and acceptance of my wants and needs, i am also hoping that the day that He yanks me out of reality will happen soon.

An interesting thing has come about in my slavery. i think i'm a better functioning person, i have more self-value. i'm a better partner. i'm a better parent. But i'm also none of those things - i am not a person, i am property, an object. In ten years, the conflict that i perceived has come to coexist. That's not exactly right -- there isn't a conflict, i just thought there would be.

Sure, sometimes i don't feel balanced. Master is perceptive of that, and while not generally happy that i can't always quash those feelings and just be the object He owns, He gives me the time i need. But those fragments of me, they aren't fragments anymore, they are components of the whole, components of my identity, and i need all of them to be satisfied with all of it.

i am a better person than i was when Master took me as His. But i know He didn't make me better for my sake, it wasn't out of some noble purpose. Master made me better because it's what He wants from me. Ideally, i'd spend far more time at His mercy and hurting then we are capable of forcing into the few hours we have, but He wanted me to have greater self-value and yet no self-value.

So, soon, i hope, we can find a bit of time for me to sink all the way to the worthless part of me, the part that delights in the isolation, pain, the object, the thoughtless property...

i'm ready for it.....

Admitting Wanting

Hi folks! Trying to be semi-regular with our video blogs, so here's our third edition. Master's still trying to come up with a subject for His audio or video (not sure which He'll do yet) so if you have any suggestions, feel free to leave 'em in the comment section, or over on FetLife.

Remember, my video blogs are about how i work, how i think, and how we work...It's not about the general BDSM community, or how folks new to their own dynamics should force their roles into the ones that Master and i share. It's about us.

Please do feel free to leave us comments! You may also watch our videos at the source by going to blip.tv.

Soaked...

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A fresh year...

Welcome to twenty-ten!

i have high hopes for this year, but no real resolutions. There are things i want to improve, for sure, but they are things that i always want. i want to become a better slave, be more pleasing to my Master and do better at the domestic stuff. i also hope to keep on top of the blog more this year, instead of kind of drifting along with it. But i'm not off to a very good start with it. i've logged in a few times and just can't really focus enough on the topics Master and i have listed for me to really make sense of them.

i want to stress, though, that what i write (and videoblog) about here, is what i think, how i think, and what works for us. Choosing to live in a BDSM or Master/slave lifestyle is a deeply personal thing. While a word can't be re-defined to suit an individual's purpose, there can be fine lines within those definitions.

Take my most recent videoblog, when i talked about not being submissive.

Merriam-Webster defines "submissive" as one who submits to others. i don't submit to others, i submit to one. There's a distinciton for me, because i am so strong-willed that with other people, i tend to drive things the way i want them to be. Because of that, i cannot see myself as submissive. "Submit" is defined as one who yields to governance or authority. i do that with my Master, but only with my Master. i submit to Him and obey Him.

For me, there is a difference. That's how the definitions fit me. They may not fit everyone that way, but its how the definitions fit my role.

past vs. present

Time. Slips away too fast. And there's precious little of it to be had.

The other night, Master and i had the good fortune to enjoy a bit of time together and Master did a really fantastic job with some bondage. It was lovely, the ropes holding me tight, keeping my arms folded behind my back... Inescapable. As difficult as it is for me to get into the headspace to enjoy being bound by rope, it's important that we do so. When we don't have the chance to play with rope, i tend to loose track of where i am, and how helpless i really am, how helpless i want to be.

The bondage was delicious, and Master was sorry that He hadn't thought to grab His camera.

The sad thing was when we were finished, there wasn't really time for us to spend together, snuggly in our roles, reassured by the fantastic bondage, sadism, masochism and sex. We had to go right back to regular life.

As i think about it now, i realize that even though Master and i have had BDSM incorporated into our lives for a third of our lives and all of our time together, i have always had difficulty handling jumping back into the "normal." Yes, our roles are part of our normal, but i want that connected closeness of Master and slave, i want that to last for at least a few moments before the "mundane" things claim their share of time. Post-scene, i want to just bask together in the enjoyment of it, the bliss of numbed limbs and stinging parts, the agony of over-stimulation, the delight of the carnal beings within us.

The day after, i was off. i was short, i was disinclined to do exactly as He asked me to do. Every step was a fight. i didn't want to disappoint Him, cause Him frustration. But i kept doing it. i'd apologize immediately, recognizing the potential trouble i was building up. When He told me that "i don't mean to cause you frustration" was beginning to loose its meaning, i completely went off the deep end. i snapped, i yelled, i threw dishes around in the sink. And argued more. All things He's told me i need to control better.

i blamed being tired, having a sore throat. Blamed a bout of insomnia. Being angry about being sick. He knew that wasn't all of it. He knew it and i didn't. Several hours after the outburst, i recognized that it was a selfish little desire that felt neglected rearing its' ugly head.

i want that closeness. i want Him to be all mine for just a few moments, to feel His arms around what belongs to Him every second of every day.

But this is another thing i am going to have to learn to control better, because that want isn't going to be satisfied every time. And it can't get in the way of the present moment.

Snowflakes

On FetLife, it seems that there have been lots of people shooting down everyone else. It's a fact, people are generally intolerant of others whenever they are not forced together because of outside pressure.

That in itself doesn't bother me. What bothers me are new members of the lifestyle, the kink, who are just entering adulthood (the age of consent), who act as if they know everything there is to know, and shoot down people who have been living the lifestyle for years.

i entered my relationship with my Master before i was 18. When i was 18, i consented to a D/s dynamic, which led to my consent of an M/s dynamic. But i never presumed that i knew everything. i knew i wanted to know more, i knew how we were working our relationship, but i didn't make the presumption that everybody did it one way. i was fascinated by the differences, and at times, envious of them. But what Master and i do works for us, we've always adjusted it to work for us.

We're all different, and folks who are new to the lifestyle would do well to remember that there isn't a relationship (kink or vanilla) anywhere that is exactly the same as any other.

Assignments: Pride and Shame

A long, long time ago ─ okay, not super long ago, but back in October, Master had me post one of my writing assignments here. The assignments have not been as frequent, and they have been kept between us, but Master thought that this one should be shared here.

Recently, i've been struggling when Master and i leave the house. Call it a mild case of agoraphobia ─ uncomfortable around others who might not understand that i like my life and the choices that i've made. Unfortunately, this translates into a bit of an issue when i am wearing a collar...my discomfort becomes apparent. i know this is something i am going to have to move beyond, and it is why my Master assigned "Pride vs. Shame", which follows below.

Pride and shame are a component of the human condition, but should they be a component of (consensual) slavery? As we have been discussing lately, i have found myself with an over-abundance of shame. Shame in my appearance, in my behavior and even to an extent, my being as a whole. Yet, in those same moments, when i look at the core of my being ─ at the fact that i am my Master's property, His nothing ─ i am proud. The leap to be publicly proud of my status, however, is still elusive.

Why ─ and how ─ do i feel both pride and shame because of my slavery to my Master? Shouldn't a slave base her perceptions of self upon the Master's pride (or shame) in her status? Does a slave have any right to be ashamed of her status ─ the same status she has chosen ─ when the Master is not? Which matters more, the slave's perceptions of shame or pride related to her status, or the reflection of herself in her Master's eyes? Shouldn't one be confident in their own being, even if that is nothing more than as another's property? Heady questions, and all worth touching on, at least briefly, as i continue to evaluate my own perceptions of self and the pride and shame i have in myself and the role that i have chosen.

There are moments in which i struggle expressing my pride in my slavery, when i give Master reason to doubt my sincere need to be His. Most often, this is expressed simply as my struggle to wear a collar into any environment which might (or might not) be public. In those moments, shame overcomes all other emotions, and i am more ashamed of who i am, how i look and the fact that i prefer to live a “deviant” lifestyle by choosing to become my Master's property. i am ashamed because i am afraid of their criticisms and the potential ramifications my choice may have on my family.

More subtle, perhaps, are the moments in which i am proud of my place at my Master's feet. They are moments when i am content, happy to lay at or under His feet, content to be led by my wrist without attempting to pry my hand from His firm grip. They are moments when i cease to be sensitive to others and their static conceptions of relationships and reality. Of course, they are the moments i am most at peace with my image, my sense of self and, on the whole, most content.

Ideally, a slave gives herself over to her Master, to be molded and shaped as He desires, in essence, giving Him everything she is because she belongs completely to Him. In that, her own perceptions of pride and shame should be one with His. Ideally. This often applies inside our relationship. When i feel that Master is proud of me, i feel more confident in my being, i feel as if i am something of value, even as a slave. When He is not pleased with me, my self-worth plummets, and i am more sensitive to the shame and the negative perceptions that people in Master and slave relationships often face.

Quite simply, in the face of an ideal Master and slave relationship, the slave should endeavor to put aside all of her own reasons to feel pride and shame and judge herself on the Master's standard instead of her own.

Thus, the reflection of her identity given to her by her Master is far more important than her own perceptions of her successes or failures in her role as a slave. Indeed, as the slave has chosen to submit to another's will, to accept the pain for another's pleasure, should she not also accept their assessment of her qualities? If one finds fulfillment in their relationship, then how can the Master or the slave feel shame? There should be pride in the depth of submission and the strength of character that is required in Master and slave relationships. There should be pride in recognizing ones identity and living in harmony with that identity.

As my Master has repeatedly told me, “sexy is a mindset”. That applies here, too. Discomfort and shame with ones choices ─ despite the need and desire for them ─ will only draw attention to that. Being confident and proud of one's identity, even as a slave, results in a more relaxed being. When applied in a Master and slave relationship, if she is proud because her Master is proud of her, than she truly has no reason to feel shame, and should be free of irrational fears.

This necessary jump to being proud of my slavery, though still daunting, seems nearer. i realize that being ashamed of what i desire most in life is, at best, a paradigm that has never functioned. Allowing myself to be ashamed of my choice only adds to my own doubt of self worth, considering that i have given all my choices and my will to my Master, is foolish. There is great reason to be proud of my desire to serve, to be objectified in my Master's eyes, to be something that is worth nothing and everything to Him.

Shame is an acceptance of other's standards, but there are no others that i need to consider, for if i please my Master, than i am serving my purpose. Because i know that my Master desires the best for and from His slave, and thereby, His family, i realize that i need to trust that, and see only His perception, the reflection of His slave in His eyes.

i can (and should) be proud of everything that i am, because He has helped me to be those things.

Shame should never enter the picture, for i should never give my Master reason to be ashamed of me, or disappointed in me, and the standards that apply to others do not apply to me. The life that i have may not be right for some, but it is right for me, and i should be proud that i have chosen to be Master's slave, because i have accepted what is right for me. When i look at the core of my being, all of the talents, desires and humors that make up who i am, i am pleased and satisfied, for myself. This is something i desperately need to remember, because i am who i am for my Master and myself ─ not for anyone else.

Making Time

Due to the time constraints that govern our lives, we don't often partake in the intricate scenes that involve complex bondage very often. And we hadn't ever experimented with bamboo and rope bondage. In thinking about that, i find it hard to believe that in ten years, we haven't ever taken my Master's love for rope to the next level - especially considering my interest in Shibari.

Last night, we took the time to make such a scene happen. And i think that despite the rewards of the whole event, it also took quite a bit of patience on both of our parts. i guess, when it comes to scenes, i desperately want to feel my Master's powerful hands controlling me, forcing me where He wants me ─ it's much harder for me to sit still for an indeterminate amount of time and help my Master confine me in rope.

But every excruciating minute i cooperated as Master looped inch after inch of rope around me, or around the bamboo, trapping my head in a triangle of bamboo, lashing my legs to the bottom of the frame He had created, it all took me deeper into a headspace where i was able to feel my helplessness, my dependence, and my willingness to be in that space for my Master.

While the full 150 some-odd feet of rope was used, i had plenty of time to ponder the desire i have to feel His force, (even in the brief moment in which i panicked because of the rope Master had used on my hands felt rather tight ─ though Master assured me it wasn't) and yet revel in the satisfaction i felt at quietly submitting to the intricate bondage.

To me, there is nothing finer than feeling Him toss me about like a rag doll, confine me with His powerful grip, and "force" me into rapid compliance. Don't get me wrong, i want to submit to Him, and i don't always require that "force", but it is something that i love. All this waiting as each inch of rope was carefully placed, however, also made me realize that patient submission was also rewarding, and i am sure that Master would appreciate receiving more of it.

Master's last step of the intricate bamboo frame and rope bondage was to compress my breasts between two shorter pieces of bamboo, which He then tied to the bottom frame, pulling me forward, forcing me to assume better posture. And that sent me over the edge into subspace. It was bliss ─ the right kind of pain, the right kind of confinement and that willing, patient headspace let me sink pretty deeply into subspace.

The ironic thing about bondage that is intricate and takes eons to complete is once it is complete, i feel like time moves so rapidly and so slowly all at once. It is like being encased in that bondage for hours longer than it took to complete, but at the same time, i am aware that it is only a fraction of the time. i would very much like to improve my tolerance and spend more time in such bondage, but i fear the time we have to dedicate to such a pursuit is yet too short.

Fortunately, Master insisted on taking a few pictures of the bamboo frame and bondage, which He has posted on FetLife.

Once the frame could be removed, Master found his girl more than willing and ready...still wrapped in the proper reminders of pain and pleasure the bamboo frame and inflicted.

Zaphum

A few nights ago we were fortunate enough to find some time for a bit of a scene. It wasn't intended to be terribly complex, though Master did want to test out something He'd thought of using for the upcoming POW scene he's talked about.

We don't get the chance to indulge in play often enough these days, and so when the time comes along, we're both quite pleased to make use of it. And we did.

Though the "test run" for the boarding didn't go as planned, Master made use of plenty of leather belts, to keep me from doing more than wriggling. Ankles were tightly belted together, as were my thighs, my wrists to my sides as were my elbows. While Master was sorry that the board wasn't viable, He was pleased with how well the belts held me in place. Being bound was relieving but i will cop to complaining about feeling my legs sticking together.

There is something lovely about being restrained and blindfolded that is ultimately comforting for me. It becomes very easy to drift away, yet become so sensitive to every tickle, every movement of air, every shift Master makes around me. All of that brings me so close to over-stimulation just from the mundane sensations provided while in bondage... But that wasn't the end of it...

i was terrified of electricity when the idea was first introduced to me. Now, the minute those slick, cold pads touch my skin i tremble with delight. It is something, extraordinary, feeling muscles react without the minds approval. However, i also find it frustrating, because very rarely will Master tell me what level each setting is at. Sometimes He will tell me what they are, what level, but others, like the most recent dabbling with electricity, i have no clue if it is random, or if He is cycling through, randomly turning the voltage up or down.

In addition to being zapped, Master provided His cunt a bit of extra...pleasurable torture. i have a love/hate relationship with vibrators and bullets. Sometimes they are fantastic, but after one or two orgasms, all i want to do is rip it away from Master's twitching cunt.

So, there i am, confined in leather belts being randomly zapped and tortured to orgasm, and i have to remember to properly beg for permission to cum. Let me tell you, i am not good at keeping a cohesive string of words together when i'm being zapped and trying to hold an orgasm off. i believe i sounded like a CD with a rather severe scratch - or maybe just poor programming.

"Master, Your...oh, oh, ow!!!. Your.. oohHh. Your.... ....Please...Foooo...Beg..."

That agonizing situation will generally last for a few moments, though they feel like an eternity... Until i finally manage to get out the proper string of words.

"MasterYourgirlbegsforYourpermissiontocumforYourpleasure."

Ha!

And for some reason or another, sex after electricity play is always (dare i leave you with a pun, readers?) electrifying.

Twisted

Recently, i've been having a very lovely conversation with someone who isn't part of the BDSM lifestyle. They have been very open-minded, listened to what i had to share, and illuminating for me, as well. There are so many things that slip from memory as we progress through the years, and after ten of them, sometimes it is easy to miss those core values that we've built everything on.

One thing we talked about is whether or not Master has respect for me, for what i am to Him. He does, He often appreciates my intelligence, the conversations we share and the general, down to earth "vanilla" interactions we share. It's simply my place ─ regardless of His lovey-dovey feelings towards me ─ to remember to treat Him with respect, to do my best to please Him and be obedient... Our conversation was much longer, and though i didn't share everything i felt, this open conversation spurred me to realize exactly how important what it is we do is to me. Yes, i do it because it makes Him happy, but that's not the first reason. The real reason is because i find fulfillment in it. i am happiest when i can set aside all the pretense that i was encouraged to don as i grew up, and lay aside everything but the core of myself. When i bear myself down to smoky quartz ─ my desire to serve, to be owned ─ that surrounds my self-identity i am at peace.

Also recently, there has been a flurry among the feminist bloggers regarding BDSM, and that has not been as enlightening or heart-lifting. Just when i think the world at large is really ready to let people do their own thing without damming them, somebody has to go and talk in circles about how "evil" BDSM is and completely ignore any relevant points that might encourage them to see it from a new perspective.

The cries of "BDSM promotes violence against women" and "BDSM is a violent sex act that is wrong" (i'm paraphrasing here) make me frustrated. Firstly, i'm fine with feminists (i'm not one, but that's my choice, and i think that's what feminism is supposed to be about, isn't it? Choice?) i've met some very enlightened, friendly, open-minded women who are in charge of their own lives. And while they may not "get" BDSM , they're not damming those who chose the lifestyle. Secondly, i've always seen sex as an inherently violent act. It's a power exchange, even one done in love. Sex brings us to our base instincts, and regardless of how enlightened we think we are, once we're in the sack...i think it's a good thing for us to succumb to the pleasure of sex. (i mean, really, could you get off if somebody was sitting there talking about work, chores or who they ran into at the store? i'd much rather hear heavy breathing, groans of ecstasy and springs squeaking.)