the silver lining of these days

within the grey, the beauty of the rain,
the endless swell of jilted wakings,
wishing sleep could stay.

the empty pillow next to me –
11 days.

when you arrive I will sink deeply into you,
taking you in with great gulps of air, the balance returned to who we are.

I won’t need words (- forbid me to speak), we used them up in weeks of lunchtime calls, the broken lines and daily blocks to communication. when you arrive I wish only to speak with my body, to serve; to sleep at your feet and find peace in being your pet again.

when you are gone,
leave me with marks that last until the days begin to stretch and I can face the mornings with more strength again.

I am learning patience and the benefits of waiting, and whether you bring punishments or rewards, both are as longed for in the loneliness of this new-year-empty-ache.

Advertisements

When you realize they all care about you

Spent the afternoon with my best friend. She knows a bit about my new kinky adventures. Her eyes light up when I tell her anything but I’m careful not to sell myself for her entertainment. I couldn’t wait to show her my bruises from last weekend… That’s when I realized that the bruises are a fetish in themselves. Ha, cool. Even if it’s weird.
But it’s not weird in Fet World.

I think she views this as a passing phase. A rebound reaction to the end of my relationship with Graeme. I tried to explain to her how comfortable I feel there.
“It’s so different to approaching sex ‘out here’. There, anything goes. There’s so much tolerance, and acceptance, and it’s all about honesty and consent and safety and FUN….” and a list of other words trotted out of my mouth. Words I don’t really associate with the start of a sexual relationship in the vanilla world. And I’m sick of all that acting, lies, deceit, delusion and dishonesty.  I’ve always known my sexual tastes were rather eclectic. It’s only another small step into embracing one’s full kinky marvellousness once you’re there.

There’s more harmony in my communications with the potential new Dom today. I’ve come down off the ceiling of over-reaction and he’s acquiesced so much that I had to ask him whether he’s actually capable of Topping me effectively! I’ve not been told off or lectured all day and frankly I just can’t stand it.

“I’d beat him to a pulp for you,” said one new Fet World friend. It made me smile. Beating into a pulp won’t be required, but I’ll keep it in mind just in case.

Punching the fuck out of Love

I can’t remember what I wanted from this or why I came here. It’s morphed so dramatically in such a short space of time.
Fun? Probably, yes.
Freedom?
Release?
Satisfaction?
I don’t know.

I know I wasn’t looking for Love.
Love can just keep the fuck away from me. As my vanilla-sometimes-squeeze says, “I want to lock Love in a room and punch the fuck out of it.” You and me both, honey.

Right now I feel like running back to that boring, mundane vanilla world and asking for some grace. I promise I won’t fuck up again, I won’t moan about boring sex even once. I won’t go out seeking guys to beat me and leave bruises on my arms any more. Just let me believe in Love again, one day, for an hour or two.

I’ve said it but it’s like I keep forgetting it: the piranhas are circling me. I’m the fresh meat in the tank. And I don’t even know how I got here….

Three months ago I was sunk full-body-deep in the most delicious experience of sensual love and adoration that I’d ever tasted. The whole summer seemed sparklingly clear, brighter than my life before that golden Adonis came along and shook me at my foundations. I felt like the most beautiful creature on the planet for the whole duration of our brief affair. Today I’m sent a draft list of rules setting out how I will be punished and used if I consent to this submission, which includes asking permission to use the toilet and making all three holes available for Him to use as he pleases (which may also be delegated to others, male or female, as He pleases). And apparently my bad language will be up for review and subject for punishment, as well as other general behaviour issues, such as my timekeeping. Oh the fuck yeah? Come on, then.

Yes, I felt turned on reading the list. Yes, I’ve fantasized about all this stuff plenty and wanked like a demon with it on my mind. But the reality of going through with it and agreeing to this, that’s something else. And I don’t know if I can.

When Graeme split the scene I said, “No more men telling me how to live my life.” I wanted my home back, my sanctuary, my space and my bed.
What’s happened?

Today I received a lecture, stood outside Waterstones in a very public place. I knew there was nothing to do but stand up straight and take it.
Last night I gave my son an effective reprimand and stood by it. It worked.
And all this week I have been treating the people I encounter in daily life with an even greater amount of kindness, courtesy and respect than I have ever done before. I have worn dresses and skirts and given a shit about my appearance in a way that I haven’t done for years. I have considered the things that I’ve been neglecting and overlooking and realized that I can double-down and take care of them quite soon. All this in spite of the fact that I’ve been walking around in a fairly constant haze of semi-orgasmic frenzy.

Are these the possible outcomes of being topped by a dominant man? It seems to me that these things have nothing to do with sex (because I haven’t had sex with him yet). They are unexpected bonuses, and something I want to explore more. But the wording of the Rules comes back to me again and I quake.

Wise words tonight from new FetLife friends:
“Do not not not go for the first guys you like”… and really I should add, “The first guys who’ve liked me,” because I think that’s more to the point.

“You will have no end of offers. Choose carefully who you submit to. It’s a gift. Don’t let anybody use you, or abuse you, or take you for granted.”

“It’s not a race to find a Dom,” said one friendly Dom. And it’s just too obvious for words but obviously not to me.

I need more bruises. I need more wine. I need to remember why I’m here and what I want. I need to count the number of fucks in this piece. I need to go out tomorrow night and have some fun. And I need to punch the fuck out of Love, the filthy treacherous, mother-fucking whore because I’m sure it’s her fault that I came here in the first place.

Altered states of pleasure and pain

It seems natural to write about this strange and wonderful world that I’ve suddenly plunged into but my head has been spinning for days and I don’t know where to start.

Opening up to my kinky side has unleashed a powerful wave of energy that’s been held tight inside me since I-don’t-know-when. This energy is coursing through me day and night and I’m barely sleeping, and I am on the edge of orgasm most of the time, in a heightened state of arousal. In an altered state of consciousness at times, so that I’ve realized that I’m not actually in a fit state to drive. Somehow I’m functioning, just. Work and responsibilities still being met. Whilst it’s utterly delicious much of the time, it’s not a state I could continue to function well in. I’m an artistic producer and I can’t even get my head around creating new work at the moment as I’m just driven by lust for pain and submission and orgasm. This must be what they call new sub frenzy.

It was a relief today when the Dom who is helping me explore my sub nature forbid me to touch myself until tomorrow, freeing the professional aspect of me to get on with my work. But this brings another train of thought with it…. I have been pretty resistant to the idea of submitting my will to another. But what if that’s what I need? What if this power is too much for me to handle on my own? Suddenly I’m considering this as more than just a kink to be enjoyed for sexual fulfillment.

But submission requires trust. How can I give that to anyone again?

What if I’m just here because I want to be hurt? As a form of self-harm? I do want to be hurt. The physical pain wipes out the traces of the mental pain and anguish that were there so recently. That’s the kind of pain I never want to experience again. Physical pain I can take.