sadistic sunday

A lazy, hot Sunday afternoon in bed. He caresses my back , absentmindedly, underneath my shirt while he scrolls through his iPhone. I sigh heavily, enjoying the feel of his fingers over my back. His hand creeps up, tickling my neck. I want more, so I sit up and take my shirt off. I lay back down, ready for him to massage me. His hand caresses once more, drifting over my back and over to my breasts. Suddenly, a switch clicks.

The next 20 min are a blur. My husband is there, but there is a look in his eyes I have never seen before. He growls like a beast. He straddles my body, pinning my arms to my sides with his legs. He slaps me.. in the face, something he rarely does. He slaps my breasts over and over again. Occasionally he leans down and grasps my breasts in his teeth and clamps down.

I look into his eyes. I force myself to and this causes him to just growl even louder. It stirs the beast even more. He continues to slap my breasts. I whimper and moan beneath him.

He pushes me over, rolling me onto my belly. He rips my panties from me. He steps off of the bed and I hear the familiar clink of the belt. Immediately I begin to whine and whimper. I know he will not be easy. I can’t tell you how many times he belts me. It’s all a haze. Each blow is stronger than the last. Later, after asking him if he held back, he tells me no he did not. The blows that sting the most, whip over my backside and the tongue of the belt bites into my hip. It feels like he’s striking the same place over and over. It’s almost unbearable and my screams turn to cries. I let it go, feeling the tears well up in my eyes and my body convulses. Ten seconds pass where I tell myself to get a grip on myself and grit and bear it, but then I tell myself, give into it. The heavy, emotional weight that had been on my shoulders all weekend, I let it come pouring out and I allowed myself the very brief cry.

The beast flips me over, back onto my back. He again holds me down, assaulting my body with more hits, slaps and bites. Until

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finally he needs to pound me. He removes his shirt, throwing it over my eyes, stuffing it into my face. He discards the rest of his clothes, throwing them aside as he presses his erection against me. I moan as he tries to force his way inside me. He shows me mercy, grabbing the bottle of lube and drizzling it down my slit, rubbing his cock head into it. My husband thrusts violently into me, breaking through the tightness and I groan loudly. He pins me darn harder, thrusting deeper and repeatedly. He takes his pleasure from my body, pulling out just in time to bathe my belly in his ejaculate.

He rolls off of me, wiping my belly with his shirt. The beast is sated, for now.

© At Longing’s End

 

dreaming of dexter

This post is long over due… time slips between my fingers…

Last week, after having done this to my breast, I encountered a very interesting dream. It involved the world’s favorite serial killer… that’s right… Dexter. Oh and it wasn’t just any dream mind you. He wasn’t out trying to kill me or anything. No, this was a sex dream.

Last week, my body was hyper sensitive and in sexual overdrive. My breasts had been freshly marked for my Master in such a way that I have never done before. Emotionally, I was on high alert to how my breasts came to look the way they did. From my adoration and dedication to my Master. I was finally embracing the sick fuck that I am.

Cue Dexter…

A “sick fuck” of his own. A serial killer dedicated to murdering the scum of Miami… and in my dream, I wanted him. But Dexter is shy, keeping to himself and very much a boy when it comes to sexual advancements. In my dream, he was trying to avoid me.. push me away, since I knew how much of a “monster” he was. It didn’t matter to me. I wanted him even still.

We were kissing passionately, I tearing at his clothes. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me. I didn’t just want him to fuck me… oh no… being a serial killer with his particular skills and knowledge, I wanted more from him. I wanted him to hurt me like no other could. He pushed me away, resisting, in his mind I was crazy. I finally lowered my shirt, revealing my black and blue breasts. Showing him how masochistic I was. Showing him how twisted and perverse I in fact was. That I wasn’t just talking the talk. I wanted him to see for himself that I really could take anything he did to me. I just wanted him to fuck me and hurt me while he did it. Use his shiny knives on me.

And then I woke up …

marking the thighs

Today’s task turned out to be harder than I had expected it to be. Instead of using a belt, I was granted permission to use the thicker of the two sticks I had picked up while in the forest on this day. It was time I marked my thighs for my Master.

The stick was a bit longer than I would have liked it, but it had a great little curve to it that allowed for a good swatting. Once I found a good rhythm, I was able to properly swat the backs of my thighs. I alternated between each back thigh and then moved to the front of my thighs. This I discovered, stung quite a bit. I do not like my inner thighs swatted. They are awful sensitive. I did my best though and gave them a good swatting. After my first set of 20 min, my bruises began to bloom.

I love the way my body marks. Often times I look at where I had been hit and nothing seems to be happening, but over the course of 5-10-20 min, suddenly these beautiful marks begin to bloom. It’s like a precious flower opening to the sun.

I notice that my inner thighs are very sore. So much so that every time I move or my legs brush together, there is a sharp sting. I love it though. A reminder of my sweet sadist. Of course, I think about him so much during the say, I never really need a reminder, but it is so nice to have.

My second set of 20 min was harder than the first. I need to please my Master, so I insisted on passing the stick several times over the same existing bruises. I wanted to make them bloom even more. I whimpered, literally whimpered at I assaulted my inner thighs with the stick. I wanted to make Master so proud of me and knew he would be proud and surprised by my dedication.

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After my second set of 20 min, I felt my sensitive thighs as I moved around. A thought occurred to me. While my husband fucks me this weekend, I will feel him against my thighs and a sharp pain will erupt through my legs. When my husband fucks me, so too will my Master. For every thrust from my husband will press into Master’s bruises. It is without a doubt that these coming orgasms will be the most powerful. There’s nothing like an overwhelming mix of emotions while climaxing.

Today’s task was definitely a challenge, but I am proud that I have done the best I can with it. I also happen to know that Master thinks I have been a “very good girl” today.

stomaching it

One of my daily tasks includes belting a specific part of my body for a total of 40 minutes a day. This is in preparation for the day Master and I will be in the same room together. Naturally, he wants to make sure his little pain slut can take his hits. He also once said to me that my body is his canvas and the belt his paint brush. Together, we create art.

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Today I picked my stomach as my canvas. It is soft and round. I was curious, even before I started, in how it would respond to the belt. Would it sting more than my breasts? Would it mark just as much?

I began belting my tummy and discovered it stung a bit more than my breasts, however, as I kept on, that familiar wonderful heat rose on my skin. Once the warm up had subsided, I found that I could begin belting my stomach much harder. The first 20 min came and went fairly quickly and though my stomach turned a nice rosy red, I could see I would not have the same marks as my breasts do.

I did however, discover that it made me just as wet. While belting my stomach, I occasionally belted my mound and I could feel

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my breasts aching to feel the belt once more. My tits are quite demanding sometimes! I told Master this and he told me I could belt my breasts any day of the week if I liked.

For my second 20 min, Master granted me permission to go ahead and belt my breasts afterward and that I had 5 min to make myself orgasm during. It only took me two and a half minutes to orgasm, Which was a good thing because my mother called right after. Great timing, mom.

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Belting my stomach was a different experience than my breasts. Right now, my tummy feels tender and is painted with little bruise freckles. It’s not going to mark as spectacularly as my breasts. The act itself was almost as arousing as my breasts. The proof was in the wetness between my thighs. 

I am enjoying this journey I am taking with Master. Each day. Each experience brings us closer and closer. Our desire to be together in the flesh grows stronger and the call will have to be answered very soon.

 

conflicted

I thought that I would be writing this very distraught, but recent events have lightened my spirits… I’ll get to that in a bit.

This morning, as I am after-glowing from some wonderful spooning sex with Sylvanus, I send DomC a good morning text, including some soft kisses. He responds with a few of his own and wishes me a good day. But then, this message comes in:

Touch my cunt right this instance and play with your clit while slapping your face. If your husband gets involved, he’ll take the lead. Otherwise, you are to bring yourself to orgasm instantly. Use all means necessary.

I gulp and my stomach lurches. It’s not that I won’t do this, because I absolutely will. The problem you see, is I don’t have the courage to do this in front of my husband. I know, or rather at this point, I suspect that my husband would not be turned on by this at all. Though he is dominant, he is not a sadist. Has he slapped me in the face before? Sure he has. It was a moment in time however.

So here I am, in bed with my husband and I have been told to slap my face, continually while touching myself to orgasm (unless my husband were to step in). I simply have stage fright. In my own private space, I obey Master without hesitation, but to do these things in front of my husband feels weird. I don’t know what he will think of me. He has seen my breasts after having beaten them for Master. He is neither repulsed nor turned on by them. It’s just not his thing and that is honestly ok. I am not interested in Master because he is like my husband, I am interested because he is different. That’s the point really. 

It’s something I need to work on. Something to discuss with my husband. I am shy to be my masochistic self in front of him. It feels awkward to fulfill the commands of another man in such a sadistic nature in front of him. Will he be turned off? Will he find me too sick and twisted? If he is simply indifferent to it all, neither turned on nor repulsed, just happy if I am happy, well then doing these things in bed are still awkward.

But this is who I am. Even if it is a fairly new turning point. This may last for awhile or this may fade. Only time will tell. Inevitably, I need to find my comfortable spot. Either my husband accepts it with indifference, accepts it and begins to participate or is repulsed by it all together. All of these sides will influence how I interact with Master during times that I am not alone.

I could have lied to Master. I thought about lying. Just telling him that I fulfilled his task and been done with it. But I know better. Telling him that I completed the task misleads him into believing I am something that I am not. He may come back with harder tasks for me to complete that I am just going to have to lie about, until it is one huge epic disaster built from one lie after another. No, I can not mislead him in such a way. It will only make things more difficult. So I write him, confessing that I couldn’t do it. I have failed him. I do not have the courage to perform these tasks in front of my husband. I know it’s something I need to work on, but try as I might, I just couldn’t do it this morning. I apologize and feel bad at having failed him.

I was expecting Master to be upset with me. If I were to be punished, I understood. I was conflicted and distraught having failed him, but I simply could not do it. I was hoping my honesty at least gave me a few brownie points. My phone chimes:

By trying you succeeded today. I am well aware of the challenge I confronted you with and I am pleased that you’ve given it all, even though you did not get yourself to do it in front of your husband. This is something we’ll work on. Now you are not to let this drag you down today. You did not succeed in fulfilling your task, but you did not disappoint me. ….. UNDERSTOOD?

I smile once more. Yes, Master it is understood very well. He is a sadistic bastard my Master, but he is also a kind and understanding one. I am blessed to see his many facets. He both excites and comforts me at the same time. This may very well be a long lasting relationship.

 

overdrive

Today is one of those crazy days. My masochism and sex drive are dialed up to 11. I am insanely aroused and also insanely turned on by the idea of being hurt.

Yesterday, I beat my left breast for Master. I was shocked and surprised at how much it stung and turned me on at the same time. It seemed like I could never get enough. I wanted more beatings. It’s amazing how much my breast took. It looks terrible, but feels fine. I am in no pain at all today.

I thought about what body part I would torture with the belt today. It didn’t take me long to settle on my right breast. It just had to be done. The feeling of belting the left one was just so pleasurable, I was addicted to feeling it again.

So, I did just that. I set my phone’s timer and belted my right breast for 20 min. It stung as I hit it, but I loved it. Just like yesterday, I varied the style and frequency of the hits. I could feel the hit rising in my skin and I loved it. The wetness gathered between my thighs. My clit pulsed furiously. I wanted cock badly. I wanted to feel a cock deep inside me as I belted my breast.

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My senses were heightened after the first 20 min. I was excited for the second set. I waited an acceptable period of time and alerted Master I would be starting. Again I took great pleasure in belting my right breast. Each flick of my nipple both stung and aroused me. How badly I wanted to orgasm. I told Master I wanted to one day feel him belt my breasts while I was allowed to bring myself to orgasm. As my time was slowly coming to a close, Master sent me a message, allowing me to play with his cunt lips. I reached down and touched them as I continued to belt my breasts. I was wet. So very wet. Pulling and tugging at the lips further aroused me. He told me I could play with my clit. I touched it gently, feeling the surge of arousal. He then sent me another message allowing me to have an orgasm as long as I belted my breast very hard. I tried at first, circling my clit while belting my breast, but I couldn’t do both at the same time. So, I reached for my favorite vibrator, placed it on my clit and began belting myself hard. It didn’t take very long. I was screaming my orgasm into the ceiling while the belt cracked against my breast. I must have ridden that orgasm for over a minute. It was forced out of my body with so much intensity, I thought surely I was going to squirt. I did not, but it still felt great.

These last three days have opened up a flood gate of emotions and thoughts. I am so proud of my efforts and pleased by my discoveries of what my body can take. Master is happy too. He is so unbelievably turned on by me, but I have seen his gentle side

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as well. Late at night, we’ll often just text each other. It’s our version of pillow talk. He’ll say beautiful things to me and I to him. He makes me feel cherished and cared for. I need this. I can’t have a sadist who wants nothing but to push my body and hurt me. He needs to have a gentle side to, that wishes to care for me when it is over and help me back down from my submissive high. I look at his picture and wonder how such a sweet, innocent looking man can be such a sadist? He is though. Oh he is wicked and he wants to make me hurt and his my sadist and I am his twisted masochistic girl.

of buses and breasts

After yesterday’s initiative, I found myself embarking on yet another journey. I had no idea that my initiative would suddenly put me in a whole new light with DomC, but it has and I am happy for it. I feel honored. Master has decided to go ahead with my training to become his pain slut and anal slut. In doing so, I have some very specific tasks to fulfill throughout the work week. Since we both have lives outside of the one we share together, he has deemed the weekends as free time. Monday – Friday however, I must do as he commands:

1) Hiking with your dog: Every 10 minutes 3 minutes of fast walking during the entire hike. Concentrate on a good posture while hiking / walking.

2) Back home, plug your ass with the large plug. Wear it for at least 3 hours every day. Get used to it by wearing it for shorter amounts of time this week.

3) use your husbands heaviest belt on one of the following body parts twice daily for 20 minutes: legs, stomach, left breast, right breast, ass and back combined.

Alternate daily. Every body part gets the treatment once a week.

These are the exercises with which we lay the foundation…

My morning hike was completed as ordered. Master is slowly adding more vigorous activity for me because he knows how much I am trying to lose weight. It was a hot day today, so I immediately took my shower and decided I would prepare myself for an outing into the city. I needed to buy some food.

I had another idea come to mind. I inserted my large plug as I am instructed to do daily and put on a short skirt. I decided I would

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go into the city plugged, wearing a short skirt and no panties. I knew this would please Master. I sent him a photo of his little surprise and took the bus into the city.

I had naughty fantasies about the bus. Of a young man, joking around with his college friends, playing cruel jokes on women by sliding their hands up their skirts. Only when he slid his up my skirt, he discovered I wasn’t wearing any panties. He spoke to me in German, whispering now, breath heavy and I could only reply back in English. Verbal language lost between us, but our bodies spoke. I let his hand wander between my folds and he discovered my plugged ass as he pushed his fingers inside me. He spoke to me, of what I do not know, but I wanted him and as the bus moved closer to my apartment, the only sign I could give him was by removing my keys from my purse and waving them in front of his face. He followed me off the bus, this perfect stranger and into my apartment, where we fucked like there was no tomorrow and he left without ever knowing my name.

Fucking hot fantasy yes? I may turn it into an erotic piece over at Secret Desires.

Once home, I had lunch and decided it was finally time to start my training. I decided to start my training with the left breast. I do love having my breasts fondled. I set my phone to 20 min and began using the belt to my breast. It didn’t take long for my breast to turn red and the heat to gather on my skin. I found that the harder I hit, the more I could take. I became very wet as I beat my own breast with a belt. I found different techniques. Some were fast and quick swats. Others were sharp and to the point smacks.

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Then I let the belt graze my breast like a flogger. When it was over, I looked at my marks. Not a beautiful sight, but beautiful to me. They are a symbol of my devotion.

As I lay on the bed, feeling my heated breast, all I could think about was doing it again. I was highly aroused from the first round. I wanted to do the second. But I had to wait and give my breast a chance to settle down. Besides that, I had more instructions from Master.

He instructed that I use my dildo in order to train my throat for his cock. He wanted me to push myself to the limit. I was to slide the dildo as far down my throat as possible and hold it there for 10 seconds at a time. I found this very difficult to do. A real cock is very “giving”. Though hard, it is still pliable. A dildo on the other hand, not so much. At least not this one. In order for me to deep throat, I have to stick my tongue out, however, when doing this with a dildo, it causes the outer edges of my tongue to dig into my teeth. Obviously I like pain, but not this pain. I did my best to please Master and recorded my attempts.

After, I spent some more time admiring my handy work and thinking about my next beating. It made me extremely aroused just thinking about it. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed the belt and gave my left breast it’s final beating for the day. I even recorded some of it for Master. Again I did my best to beat my breast like he would. Again I felt the lovely heat of my flesh as it grew red in color. I moaned in delight as the leather bit my nipples.

It’s been an arousing day for me. I feel like I have made my Master proud and I know I far exceeded his expectations with my efforts. I am a happy slut today. Tomorrow is a whole new day!

anal initiative

I can’t help it. Sometimes, I’m minding my own business and then WHAM, an idea and desire strikes me.

Like today, I got home from a dog hike, took a shower and then had the undeniable desire to play with my ass. This is not a normal thing for me. I am not an anal girl, though I am trying to be for DomC. So I wanted to fuck my ass with my large plug AND video record it as a surprise for DomC.

I shut myself in the bedroom and set my laptop up to record. I grabbed my large njoy plug and pushed it into my ass, allowing it to settle in. I then worked it back and forth, slowly pulling it out and stopping at it’s widest point and pushing it back in. I became obsessed with watching the steel plug moving in and out of my ass. Also couldn’t help but think how pretty my pussy looks, but I digress. I pulled the plug out a few times and pushed it back in. Satisfied with a job well done, I sent the video as a surprise to DomC. I knew he would enjoy it very much.

However, things didn’t end there. I felt this overwhelming desire to really fuck my ass with my plug. So, I set up the laptop again and got back into place. I lubed the plug up some more and began pushing and pulling it out of my ass, making a very audible “pop” . I drowned in the sensations of it, vigorously fucking the plug inside my anus. Loud, lubricated noises vibrated through the microphone. I sent this video to DomC as well, telling him that I very much desire to fuck my ass all day long for him. Would he grant this for me and I would send him a video each time.

He is pleased with my initiative and reminds me that long ago we had established that I was allowed to fuck my ass with anything I desired at any time as part of my training. He tells me to go ahead and be a little anal slut, but each time I must also wear my nipple clamps. He is a wicked Master, knowing that I will get very wet fucking my ass with clamped nipples.

I take things a step farther the 3rd and 4th time I fuck my ass. I decide to use my njoy pure wand. I look at it, observing the small end and the large end.  I could take the easy way out and try the small end first, but then I compare the large end to my large plug and notice the diameters are the same. So, I take a deep breath, lube up the pure wand, apply my nipple clamps and hit record. I pushed the wand in slowly. I felt it stretch my anus and fall into place. The extra long handle made it easier to rock the wand back and forth inside me. I watched my anus as I pressed the wand into it. Slowly I pulled it out and pushed it back in. Watching as my anus stretched around it. I pulled the wand out a few times, letting my anus gape a little, knowing DomC would love that.

After sending video 3 of fucking my ass with my pure wand, DomC tells me he enjoys watching the wand being pushed in and out of my anus ever so slowly. So video 4, I made specifically to display the wand just pushing in and out of my ass. No vigorous fucking, just slow and steady in and out. Watching my anus wrap around the now heated steel and reluctantly release it. By now my ass is getting sore, but I had one more goal I set for myself.

My final display of being an anal slut for the day, I decide I must push a dildo into my ass. So I take my tantus vamp and lube it up. Once again I lay in front of the camera, legs spread and nipples clamped. I first push the pure wand into my ass, making sure I am ready. It’s sore as I move it in and out. I reach over for the vamp, and hold it in front of my anus. Slowly, I push it in. It feels uncomfortable, but my body submits. I push the dildo inside my body and exhale deeply. I did it! I fuck myself gently, moving it back and forth. I let it come out completely and my ass is sore. I push it back in, pushing past the soreness and move it back and forth inside my body before pulling it back out. I grab my anal plug one last time and push it back into my ass, fucking it again. It does not hurt as much as the dildo. I stop and end the recording with my plug in place. 

It was an exciting day. I had an idea, one I knew Master would like and I went with it. He became very pleased with my efforts and saw something in me he didn’t see before. He wishes me to be the perfect slave. In doing so, he loves his slaves to be both good little pain AND anal sluts. He sees my willingness and efforts to be his pain slut all the time, but this is his first time seeing my ass really worked for him. He is happy and sees great potential in me being his anal slut. 

The outcome of my initiative today has resulted in a very big reward for me. I am officially Master’s explicit pain and anal slut and today he has laid down a few rules. I of course have to obey his every wish at any moment of the day. He will push me and ultimately shed my limitations. He also sent me a written schedule of what is required of me 5 days a week. It involves adding more exercise during my hikes, plugging my ass and inflicting slaps to my body using a belt. 

I am excited that our relationship seems to have grown and evolved once more. I never knew that my little initiative would have such a huge and positive influence on how DomC sees me. I am honored and excited! I take this new journey with great pride and I am committed to my responsibilities. 

Heh, who knew shoving things up my ass could change my life? 

Is there a difference?

When I was 16, I had my first “adult” relationship. What I mean by this, is that I had my first relationship that involved sex that went FAR beyond kissing and naughty touching. I myself was far from being an adult. Quite the opposite really. I was young, naive and easily manipulated and pressured just for someone to like me. Pretty much your average teenage girl (and some adult women, but I digress).

I guess you could say Justin was my first “real” boyfriend. We had a relationship and it included sex. Course, back then, I didn’t see the point to sex. Actually didn’t enjoy it at all. Come to find out, the reason why I never enjoyed it, was because I never had an orgasm during. This is where my being 16 and naive worked against me. Sure, I masturbated and knew what an orgasm was, but I was a little dumb to realize I could be having those same feelings during sex. Or rather, too dumb to realize if I worked at it with my partner, those awesome feelings of pleasure could happen. At the time, I was just left wondering what the big deal about sex was. In any case, I am going off topic again….

Justin was given the gift of my virginity. He was well endowed and extremely gentle with me, but there was a dark side to him. Justin, like me, was an only child, however, he lived a somewhat wealthy life with a fucked up family. In any case, he had issues. Don’t we all? He always wanted to be in charge and he dictated everything that was going on in his life. Maybe I should add he was 17-18 at this time. His friends did as he said, or there would be the wrath of his temper. I did as he said, or he would make me feel life crap or turn his back on me. After all, I did love this guy (foolishly) and wanted him to love me back. Peer pressure is a bitch when you so want to be accepted.

Justin had a temper and a mean streak about him. He also had irrational reasoning and intense insecurities. He would be my first real relationship and my first experience in an abusive relationship.

I was completely and foolishly devoted to him. I was loyal and adored him. He however, was an insecure asshole. (Note that I did not realize this while dating him). Now here comes his irrational insecurities…

I distinctly remember riding in the car with him, at night,  and we were playing a game of guess the car by it’s taillights. Or maybe I was playing the game. I was able to tell what car was in front of us as we are driving down the highway at night, from a distance by the shape of the tail lights. Instead of being impressed by this stupid skill, which by the way comes from years of being a passenger in a car and just being so damn observant, he was insecure by it. Immediately, he began questioning me. He naturally assumed that since I knew so much about cars, I must be around other boys a lot. I told him no. It was just something I knew. Something I observed. (My observational skills are quite handy today in my career). He insisted I was lying. There was no way a girl like me knew all about the looks of these cars if I wasn’t hanging out with boys. There was nothing more I could say to change his mind. His solution was, I was no longer allowed to hang out with boys AND I could not talk to them anymore at school. I was appalled. However, if I wanted to continue this relationship with him, I must do as he says. So, I went to school the next day and exchanged very few words with a few boys. When I got home and saw Justin (we didn’t go to the same school), he asked me if I talked to any boys. I told him I had, but just briefly. He was upset and told me I was not taking things seriously. I told him how was I supposed to suddenly ignore my friends? He told me I can tell them that he says I can no longer talk to them.

I did as he said, shutting out my male friends and having to sit by myself when my other female friends spoke with them. This didn’t last very long. Since, Justin didn’t go to school with me, there came a point when I realized he wouldn’t see anyway.  I wasn’t going to let some guy tell me who I could and couldn’t be my friend.

I don’t remember much. I don’t remember if the issue was simply dropped or if that was the point in time when our relationship fell apart. All I know is, we ended and I moved on. I moved on because he was seeing other people and didn’t care to tell me. I had a friend of a friend tell me they saw him at Disneyland with another girl and they asked me if he and I were still dating. So, that’s how things ended.

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So I have to wonder… is this any different than in the kink world?

The beauty of D/s, is there is no right or wrong way. What matters is that you and your partner(s) are happy. What works for one may not work for others, but it doesn’t make it wrong.

There are D/s relationships that give the Dominant total and absolute control over the submissive. These are usually called Master and slave relationships or M/s. Please understand that what I am about to say is not true for ALL M/s relationships. In some M/s relationships, the Master does control every aspect of his slave’s life. Including what she can wear and who her friends are. Some slaves have even left their families and broken contact with their family members because it is what their Master wanted.

How is this different than my high school relationship above? I guess the big difference is, there are consenting adults involved and the slave willingly put herself in this relationship.

But you still have to wonder right?

Why would a grown woman want to have her life completely controlled by a man? Under “normal” circumstances, this would be considered abusive. On the flip side, what does this say about the Dominant? Is he so insecure in his own life, that this control over women brings him power?

It’s an interesting thought to ponder. Bottom line is, these are consenting adults and if they are happy, so be it. It’s not my choice in life. I don’t ever want to be told who my friends can and can’t be. It also means, I can’t be best friends with someone who is in a relationship such as this. I don’t want my friendship with her controlled be an outside person.

But you can’t help wondering.. how much is consent… and how much is manipulation…

“Oh mina, here you go being the pot calling the kettle black.” True, very true. I’ve been in physically abusive relationships in my past. Today, I enjoy being in D/s relationships and consenting to pain being inflicted on me. It’s a whole different mind set and I know I am not being abused when I have a session with a Dominant whom I care about and who cares about me.

Just something to ponder….

How It Happens

As I have often railed about my aversion to blog drama in the past, I thought there was a useful point worth raising in terms of how this stuff manages to happen, and it boils down to a simple insight from American footballer Ray Lewis. In 2000 he found himself wrapped up in a murder investigation in Atlanta when two members of his entourage got into a fight, stabbing two men to death. Let’s be clear: when you are a member of the entourage, you’re a friend of the guy. And, like a lot of friends, Lewis lied to the police with the investigation began. trying to stick close to his friends. The result was that he found himself at the business end of a murder indictment. The prospect of life in prison crumbled his will, and he told the police everything, pleading down to an obstruction of justice charge. The following year, in the NFL’s rookie camp, he spoke to all of the new players joining the league with a bit of simple advice: It’s your friends that burn you, not your enemies. 

What’s true for him is true for the rest of us. Drama, fights, and destruction enter your life through your friends. When someone I don’t like suffers misfortune, I perhaps take a bite of a little schadenfreude tartare and go on with my  day. When something happens to my friend, I step in, I get involved. Sometimes it’s a just a shoulder to cry on, sometimes it is standing up for them. But, on behalf of that friend a price is exacted, either from me or from someone else. Without a second thought, I would often myself knee-deep in a mess that wasn’t even mine.

But there’s another dimension, too. Friends are not friends forever. Friends are not always altruistic. People do what is in their best interest, because, almost all of the time, no one else will. And your friends’ interests and yours will not always align. And, in time, friends stop being friends. Sometimes it’s a gentle drift away, and other times it’s a nasty cut. Either way there is someone you treated as a friend who now wishes you ill. Being a former friend, they know you better than an enemy would. In the blog world, the consequences to this are often catastrophic. People admit to many things under the veil anonymity that could potentially be destructive in their professional lives if laid bare. Blogs vanish over this, and very often. Connections become unexpectedly severed. People’s entire worlds, both online and in the physical world, can crumble.

But it’s never an enemy who did that. It’s always a former friend.

I think about this as I see a friend get torn up over a shattered relationship. I think about it when I see our “anonymous” trolls who pop up, and continue venting an old grudge over a time they thought they could break us up. I think about the fact that the only people who have ever, really, hurt us are the ones we let get close first.

We’ve learned our lessons over the years, and we realize that every bit of drama we do have is of our own making. You will never hear either of us complain “how does this keep happening to me?” because we know why. If chaos keeps finding you, it’s because you seek it out. At the risk of getting Dr. Phil on you, if you keep doing something that produces a consequence you say you don’t like, you must be getting something out of it, otherwise you would stop doing it. For me, the psychodrama was not worth jejune comfort online friends offer, so it has become a simple, unforgiving formula for me. And, in the world of sex blogs, where many people write from a place of deep unhappiness, it means exile. I admit that I have days where I wish I had more connections, and more people to talk to when I find myself alone in my head. But, I also lived the other life, where I had to shut down blog after blog because of the gnawing fear I would be found out or exposed by someone who used to be a friend. 

I didn’t come out of the box this way.