I am a tree pt.2

To Mr. FD:

[To the tune of "Can't Be Sure" by the Sundays.]

I'm almost too tipsy to write. I probably shouldn't write this. Or, at least send it.

Mostly I feel that last week I was excited and this week my mind has got the best of me and is making me frightened, hesitant, second-guessing, whereas last week it was my heart that was thirsty.

I watched this movie, "Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus." It's about the south of the US. And it's heavily laden with religion but some good comes out of it.

This narrative caught me:
For the uninitiated, walkin' in, seeing a healing service or a apiritual church in full bloom, it's quite a wonderous sight. There's a real power there that you can't deny, you just can't deny it. It's pretty incredible. And there's a lot of love there, and there's a lot of .. there's a presence. It's - it's hard to explain. It's just so hard to explain. Things happen there that defy explanation and you feel like you're in the presence of God. You feel that way real strong. It gets sort of addictive. You go to a Presbyterian church or you go to a Catholic Church and it's a lot of friendly talk, but it doesn't give you any clue that beyond your mind that there's some immensity that loves you. You get in one of these churches, first thing they do is set the mind at the door. Come walk in with your heart. And it feels real good sometimes just to leave that mind behind and let your heart do the talkin'.

Not so much for the speak about religion, but how I want to spiritually connect bdsm in a way. I want to leave my mind at the door and know that my inner voice is surrounded by naturalness. *My* naturalness. Let go of all rationalization and just be who I am supposed to be. Yet, I don't know who that person is or how I should be in that state. In the film, religious folk are speaking in tongues and flailing about. I imagine that's almost equal to being tied and beaten. Different "gods," different practices, different ways of getting there but with the same results. It's inexplicable, it's beyond the mind, there's an immensity to letting go and being subsumed by "every thing its place," let the heart go free. I want to be raw. To be real. To be who I crave to be.

But with that, I'm frightened to how that looks, how it presents itself, how it happens. In a church it would constructed and predictable. But you're an unknown. I have no idea what you plan to do with me or what you plan to make of me. I realize and am close to the idea that you wouldn't aim to break a toy with which you'd envision playing with again. I can almost know that you're not a murder or a sadist for the point of hatred or disgust or evil. But my imagination runs wild and seeks the dark recesses of my cave. Could you harm me in such a way that I'm utterly unhappy or terrified to [the point of ] distrust or left destroyed? What is sadism and who would I have to be to fulfill that received action? I'm not one of the women whose profiles I've read who calls herself a worthless piece of shit. I want to live for someone, be all desired for someone, but I am filled with joy and aspiration and self-worth in such a way I cannot be that kind of person.

I am filled with trepidation. I want last week's girl back. I'm hot and horny and feel slutty and tried to seduce my friend tonight but resisted any thick temptation of him because he is not what I want. I haven't had sex in almost a month which makes me a renewed virgin. It's something I want to give as a gift this new first time, my tight pussy, and not have it be manipulated like a cavity to be filled. It will be that, but not the first time. I want to offer myself as a good hole for pleasure. I'm scared you want to fill me with the dildo and not touch me there yourself. I'm afraid of being an object, but want to be. I feel like a moron writing all this. God.

I want to get out of my mind.

I want to feel my skin. I want to feel each draw of it tensing and each chill. Each slap, the warming redness and pain....

I don't want to be disregarded or disrespected. I'm afraid for this weekend. I'm afraid of what I don't know of you. I want to fulfill so many things and am afraid of myself failing.

I have been thinking too much and imagining too much and have been trying to ground myself in reality too much. There doesn't seem to be a balance. First, I get swept away with newbie subbie romantic dreams. Then, I'm carried away with masochist fantasies. Then, I'm trying to remember to be real and rational. Then, I have doubts. Then, I want to forget flaws and be free. Then, I want to please so badly. Then, to have and have not. ... I have no idea what you want from me. I don't know what mindset I'm supposed to be in. Am I supposed to be scared? Adoring? Compliant? Can I hug you when I see you? Obedient? Sexy and strong? Wearing thigh high boots and shiny latex dress? A porn bdsm star? A shy girl? A smart girl? A self-reliant girl? A needy girl?

I feel so dumb with all these thoughts. I've stopped reading FetLife postings because what I read mostly whines and feeds my own insecurities. I'm trying to be grown up and me and smart, but this is all set off a kind of wild questioning and feeling: to desire not to desire. Be chill. Be mellow. Be relaxed. But I have so many thoughts that ping from dark and insecure, to high and strong. I can't stop thinking about this weekend. For weeks now. I'm fine in school and able to be the leader I have to be there and can produce the work I need to produce, but my mind is out there flying and dreaming and wondering. I'm sure this must be (and I've thought about this a lot, too) a huge burden on you to even entertain me or a "damsel in distress" as you have to take all of these ideas and issues into consideration and manipulate them ("tout ce que tu diras pourra être retenu contre toi") while feeding them and caring for them and using them to your direction. I know a 24-7 is almost impossible under the furthest extreme ideas of it, because who wants to have a child / pet every day for the rest of their lives?! It would be immense work for a dom/master.

So, I close with the fact that a) I'm totally tipsy, b) this is a moment snapshot in time and I certainly don't feel so doubtful all the time but it's built up a bit, c) I'm more excited than scared for this weekend really, d) I hope you don't use these words to detriment, e) I truly hope you can help make me become the best sub that I can be, f) rock n roll.

I am a tree

Week beginning March 19 c/o FreeWillAstrology.com

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Among medieval alchemists, there were some who tried to make a fortune by literally converting lead into gold. But the authentic practitioners of the art were interested in a subtler kind of experimentation: ripening and beautifying the shadowy aspects of their own psyches. That explains their motto: "For a tree's branches to reach to heaven, its roots must reach to hell." Among other things, that means you have to dig deep and work hard on redeeming your less flattering qualities in order to earn the right to exalted states of consciousness and spiritual powers. The coming weeks will be an excellent time for you to carry out this alchemy.

I had an exchange of emails with Mr. FD about where I'm at in my bdsm activities, tolerance, journey, blah blah.

Me: I know I'm not sugar because I don't melt in the rain. I know I'm not steel because I bend over easily. Where I am between the two has yet to be fully discovered.

Him: I liked the images. I got an answer to the question you raise, in the same image language. I am not going to let you know what it is but would be curious to see what you guess it is. you have three guesses.

I thought about this long and hard and too hard and then too long and then my dreams were thinking about it and then sleep became imagery and mathematics.

Me: .... Where am I between the two?..... 1) I'm between two ears. (the mind can be trained to move into all kinds of situations with a variety of reactions) 2) I'm a willow. (strong, but bending; changing over seasons/reasons) 3) .... Can I have a hint?

Him: A pussy willow or a weeping willow? I even give you two hints, nice man that I am: It's between 1) and something that is sometimes below 2) You mentioned sugar and steel which are non-quantifiables.

I never guessed it correctly and he hasn't told me. I have a slight feeling that the above horoscope description is accurate: "For a tree's branches to reach to heaven, its roots must reach to hell."

I have no idea what to expect for this weekend. He has selected from my wardrobe. I have bought an enormous dildo since it was one of many objects he left behind in NL when he moved to CH. This thing has given me a mind warp. He knows my bumstar is off-limits so I won't be anally impaled on it. My cunnie is definitely NOT that long - or wide even maybe. My mouth and throat are like baby bird's mouth next to it. So, all I can fathom is that I will be beaten with this gigantic instrument... or, I'm simply a delivery boy for a toy he misses. Either way, my imagination has been carried away and stressed to its limits in conceiving the possibilities.

It's interesting. I was so very excited early last week imagining our time together and now that it had to be rescheduled, I have more time for my rational mind to creep in and take over, which makes me more controlled and pensive and less spastically excited. I want to be the latter. I'm sure I will be on the 3-hour train ride. So, perhaps this is a good thing. All signs pointing to yes: weather will be sunny there this weekend, I am done with my period, his back is better and he's not sick with the flu anymore. Now, if only the scheduled French greve tomorrow will refrain from carrying into the next day of transport activities.

A friend from back in Madison is in Paris right now. We're off to dinner tonight. We had sushi on Tuesday night followed by lovely (expensive) whiskey near the Opera. Because I haven't had any live person to talk to about this, and because he's an expat of sorts - passing through Paris for the Middle East - it's easier to talk without filters. But my mind is circling around all kinds of questions, expectations, dreams, hopes, realities, sensibilities, curiosities, fears, etc. I know I'll get instructions tomorrow to ponder for Friday. But it will only fuel more questions, I'm sure.

Goddamn this is exciting.

I have my back-up plan in case things don't work out between us. My ex-flatmate in Geneve. I told her basically what I was doing and if I could crash with her, need be. She emailed back that it was no problem and to have fun with my hilarious activities. I love her. Classic.

I think after dinner and drinks tonight, I'll come back and write out all the questions buzzing through my head. It might help to get them out.

Patience

My karma in life.

I'm still learning, but I'm getting so much better.

Well, Mr. FD has come down with a horrible cold and I'm due for a visit from Aunt Flo this weekend. Luckily, next weekend - same dates - are open and free as the plains of Nebraska. So, we will postpone the weekend in bdsm playland. We've been talking on Skype of late and conversations warm me up that he's not a serial killer or a pyschopath or a mean person. And, it's good to reschedule because then I can get some homework out of the way and clean my apartment, which has started to look (as my mother says) "like a bomb went off in it." I took down all the play clothes and toys from the closet so I'll put them back up knowing it won't be much longer. And as he said, it's only a few days of extra waiting and one week closer to the next playdate.

Turned in a memo today. Going to load a movie and chill for the night.

Insert: dreaming

Walking from the landlord's apartment near all the Ministries, a solider said to me "Vous etes chair mount." I had my headphones on. I stopped, turned, because when a person of military outfit says something to you, you stop and pay attention. I didn't understand, he repeated it, and then in English "You are charming pretty!" Ohhhh "Vous etes charmante." I laughed, squeezed his arm, he blushed in front of his colleague, and I danced off. I think more of us should tell strangers that they're "charming pretty." While no woman wants to be reduced to being an object, and beauty shouldn't make the man or woman, a harmless "you are charming pretty" can make someone's day.

Friday night, I went to a social with fellow students. Meet this new second-year kid, got drunk, let him convince me to go with him into the "bear bar" around the corner, got kicked out with him as I have boobs and he has no beard (although gay as Jack from "Will & Grace"), laughed so hard and so much. Yesterday, I got my head massaged at the salon, and then cut off about an inch of hairs. Walked the long way home with my camera in hand and remembered who I am and what I love. Walking with my camera is better than the gym for getting out of my head. I get the fast walking but with many pauses for capturing awesome beauty. This city is fucking incredible and neighborhoods change within 5 blocks of each other. And, I only walked through the 9eme and 10eme.

But for now... thoughts and ideas:

“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.” — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

(oh, the irony)

Random images and thoughts, with some structured description regarding ideas of bdsm:

This is beautiful:

But more of this (I love her expression):

The comfort and security within a corset. Tightening the corset so I can't bend forward for fear of breaking a rib or losing all breath. Pushing my tits up so they almost spill over in entirety. Can they be beaten when in this position?

Crouched on the floor, used as an ottoman.

Stretched from a rig so only my tiptoes touch the floor. Bound with my hands above me. Spreader bar keeping my legs apart. A cane on my outer thighs, clothespins on my inner thighs. Begging for it to end. Whimpering. Crying. Screaming.

This is fucking amazing (from Arno Bani):

The humiliation of being naked, bent over with head on the floor, hands behind my back pulling my sex and ass open for viewing or inspection.

Ball gag and drooling a lot / too much. While being made fun of for being a drooler and not being able to control myself.

All kinds of flogging for hours. Back, legs, ass, chest. I remember one time being on SirK's X-cross, freely giving myself to the experience, spread-eagle, my wrists and ankles free from bondage. He started out slowly and lightly and over time built up speed and force. I remember standing there, thinking how tiring it must be for doms to do this for a long time. It felt like hours, but I'm sure it was only a half-hour maybe. After a while the flogging takes on such a therapeutic feeling like massage. The depth of my muscles were releasing all kinds of tension and toxins. I stopped thinking about him becoming tired or what my ass looked like naked or if I had a high enough tolerance for him and just started feeling each landing on my skin, the swoosh of air, the thwack or snap noise when it landed on me. When he stopped I didn't want him to. And then he'd approach me and ask what I thought was coming next. I was blindfolded so I couldn't foresee the next moments. He'd run the next tool under my nose to smell its leather, run it through my lips to feel its thinness or thickness. Cat o' nine tails (or seven as it were) I remembered most.

Blindfolded all the time. Every time. I love not seeing (although I hate the dark!) and having all other senses heightened. Sure, I feel like an bumbling idiot when I have to walk or move with a blindfold on, but that's part of the fun, right?

I want to try hoods more. SirK put one on me for the first time. No eye holes, no nose holes, no mouth hole, but he left it open and loose at the neck. I want to try more of this. I want to test my fear of the dark and my small-claustrophobia.

I love breath play and enjoy having someone (knowledgeable and practiced!) squeeze my throat as I'm being fucked.

I can't even go into bondage. Being tied in rope turns me on to no end. Tied with my arms behind me, in front of me, my legs apart, my legs closed, tie me up! Tie me down! Combining fucking with being tied up and unable to feel totally comfortable, or be able to assist in the rhythm or the speed, leaving me a helpless fucktoy - joy! Letting me try to wrestle out of the ropes until I lose energy and breath, rolling around like an incapable idiot, and then succumbing to the bondage - total joy. I've been blessed to know rope experts - and to know rope idiots. There's a huge difference.

Humiliation: bondage without rope. ---> Quiet control: I’ve also told her that there would be humiliation. To me this is bondage without rope. I will do something in public to humiliate her and she will sit and listen to it. Silly things like telling a waitress after ordering a meal that, “the girl isn’t eating. She’s being punished for playing with herself without permission” <--- excellent.

I'm not sure I can explain the enjoyment, torture, discomfort, adoration, need, and fear I have for being humiliated. I can remember being fourteen or so, partying my arse off in the big city, coming home way later than curfew, my dad waking up and making me stand in the entryway to their dark bedroom, he in his pijamas, me smelling like smoke and beer, and him proceeding to do the Simon Says game with me. "You want to act like a child, you'll be treated like one. Sit... Stand... Turn around...." I was deeply angry at him for this, as I was at them both for the many spankings over my childhood....but simultaneously I found it exhillarating. It wasn't that I acted out for attention and that their punishments fulfilled that need. It was more like I needed correction, guidance, boundaries, and consequences, and I was always a stubborn kid. What? Don't touch the iron because it's hot? Well.. how hot is it? Maybe you're fooling. Maybe I am Supergirl and can withstand greater heat than you. Touch - sizzle. OWIE!!!! What? Don't run around in the rain without an umbrella? What? You saw me doing that? Spanks. What do you mean I shouldn't leave you at the PTA meeting and go play "Truth or Dare" with my friends in the dark forest when I'm 8 years old and there's a supposed rapist on the loose? Spanks and major groundings.

I asked my parents why they spanked me (since it's such a taboo for parents to do now). They both said there was no other way of getting my attention. Explaining or talking sternly to me wasn't enough for a punishment when I did bad things. Grounding didn't really affect me (as a kid - as a teen it had greater consequence) since I could sit in my room and play with my imagination. Scolding didn't do it. Threatening to hit me with a wooden spoon didn't do it. Sitting in the corner didn't do it. But spanking always always got my attention, they said. And I don't blame them! I haven't been the smartest kid, and I can't help but be adventurous. My mother reminds me of when I was about six years old, playing with a friend in our driveway, and I went inside the garage to close the electric garage door, and ran the thing right over my fingers. We had to go to the emergency room where I got stitches (I guess, I don't remember but have a super cool scar to remind me). They pulled my mother into a private room and asked if there was anything she wanted to talk about. Was she having a hard time with me? Did she need to talk to someone? I was covered in bruises and scrapes and scabs from being an overactive, slightly ungraceful, adventurous kid. They thought she'd been beating me! HA! As if.

Thinking more on this, I'm not sure where the difference is between someone who responded immediately to parents' scolding or disappointment (which was the most affecting of all their words) versus me, who had to have more physical interaction to respond. I know this isn't the same in my adult life. I respond well to a variety of communication.

I like watersports and love the feel of warm piss on my body. I've tasted it before, but I'm not all that interested in drinking it, although I know people who have and do.

Mind fucks. Not sure about this one. I get the "you're blindfolded and tied, he says he's going to drip hot wax, mentally you prepare for this, you get ice cubes instead." But once I got into SirK's car with the outfit on that he'd requested and was on time and everything, yet he scolded me and told me to shut up and not say a word until we got to his place. This time's scene was totally different with more and harder play. At the end of the evening, I asked him why he was yelling at me at the beginning and he said just to fuck with me, to put me into a space of being broken down, and to prepare for a more intense play session. [I'm paraphrasing and shortening the whole description of the events so don't go thinking poorly of him or the situation based on this.] I still remember how I felt while in his car. What had I done wrong? Oh my god, this is _not_ fun. What had I done to deserve this treatment? I hated (not even joking, no arousal, no "oh this is interesting") being punished without having _done_ anything wrong. I was so confused and was trying to do everything right, and had done so, so why was I being punished? I'm still not sure I get it. Sure, I understand the control aspect and the humiliation, but I did not like that I was doing everything right and was still punished. Very confusing.

Fetish wear. I totally want to try walking in those ballet heels. I like wigs. I loved Fasching in Germany because as kids we all got to make and wear masks. I love corsets. I'm a sucker for thigh highs. I dig fishnet. I'm not as familiar with rubber, vinyl, orlatex, and leather reminds me of motorcycle gangs, gay guys, and cougar MILFs.

I like to be shaved, but I'm not so good at reaching all the nether regions myself.

I'd like to be quieted, stored in a closet like a normal toy would be. Or put into little Lolita clothes and put on a blanket in the corner to play with my toys quietly.

I've had a long-standing fantasy to be a nude servant to a guys' poker game. Serve drinks while crawling on my knees, light cigars, be used as a "good luck" token, be gangbanged on a pool table nearby.

Never had clothespins on my labia or had the soles of my feet beaten. Curious.

Pet life. I would love to be on collar and leash, eat out of a bowl, pee in the yard, sleep in a cage, have squeeze toys to chew on, and be swat with a newspaper when I do wrong.




....and the bdsm world is such a wide playground! I'd forgotten how awesome it is. Now, [deep breath] five days until I get a taste again!

Lolita

It's 5 million and 2 zillion fantasy night.

I just finished writing a 6-page re-telling of how I lost my virginity for a woman who is seeking stories for a compilation. The compilation was initiated as a concept for her 14-year-old daughter. She wants to communicate to her that losing one's virginity won't wreck one's life forever - no matter how it happens. I suggested she make a book and seek a publisher if she gets some good stories (FYI: she is looking for people under 50 to tell theirs, from all over the world, gay or straight or whatever, so if you want to write yours - in anonymity or full-on disclosure - let me know).

But now I'm moving into thinking about bdsm stories. I could go over a long list of what I’ve done and just stay there, but I want to dream about what could be (or might just be in my mind) - and explore why.

The first one that comes up most strongly is the little girl. I can imagine being asked about why I like the Daddy/little girl scenario or age play or older/younger theme. I saw a woman a little bit younger than me on the metro today. She sat opposite her older-looking boyfriend and at one point reached across to him and straightened his scarf and zipped his jacket. A gesture of love, caring, or overbearing I have no idea. But for me, I just couldn't imagine doing that. Not to say I haven't done it before, because I have. But I don't want to do it anymore. Sure, if there were a huge spider on his lapel or a tag sticking out, I might want to readjust the situation by brushing it off or tucking it under, but I wouldn't purposefully "straighten him out" as such. Instead, I feel better being the object of that love, caring, overbearing correction. That's a part of it, I suppose.

Another part of it has to do with my eternal youth. People have always said I look about 6 years younger than I am. I've always gone after adventure, explored, loved learning, longed for being taken care of (in doses), needed to be disciplined by someone else, strived to make people happy (while balancing the "I could care less what you think of me" self-confidence), looked up to wise people and craved their knowledge, adored older men, sought approval or recognition for good deeds (although I also do good things for the sake of doing them), and have always retained a curiosity and spontaneity that mirrors the recklessness and eagerness of youth. I am not helpless or sick mentally. I am not weak or lazy. I don't have an unhealthy adoration of my own father.

I own about 20 girlie panties. Ones with cherries, birdies, cartoon characters like Cookie Monster, little poodles with words "pretty girl," Supergirl styles, etc. I usually wear thongs for daytime activities, and then come home and immediately get into a pair of the girlie ones. If I'm lazy and have to run to the store, I might keep them on. I've tried to incorporate them in sexual liaisons or play dates, although this wasn't very often, and never in the past two years. It's not just the comfort factor, because I could pick plain, big lady panties if I wanted that. Instead, I like them because they feel good, are super cute, love what they imply, and can't wait to be able to wear them freely with someone someday!

I can imagine sitting in my Hello Kitty panties, and wearing one of my kid tee-shirts (my favorite is pink, has the dot candy on it, and says DOTS in big letters over my boobies). Maybe I'm on a cozy blanket on the floor. Maybe I'm baking cookies, using my fingers to mash or roll the dough. Maybe I'm at the kitchen table zoned in on a Crayon drawing. Maybe I'm over a knee getting a spanking for doing something bad. Maybe I'm exploring my private parts. Maybe I'm watching Sesame Street and learning my alphabet. Maybe I'm in a sundress on a swing at the playground. Maybe I'm sleepy and brushing my teeth while getting ready for beddy bye. Maybe I'm playing a game of Scrabble with my Daddy.

Sundresses. I love girlie clothes - for particular moments and mostly in the summer. I do love wearing skirts, although in school or work life I prefer pants and jeans. But in those right moments, I love dressing like a little girl. I have several pairs of knee-high socks that I wear all the time and most of my woman dress shoes are based around the Mary Jane style. ... Ha! I'm twirling my finger around one of my pigtails right now.

I'm not sure if there's a certain age I fall into when feeling girlie. I have a pacifier that I picked up in the infant aisle of a store - it says "I love Daddy." I wanted to buy a plush blanket and some of the toys, but didn't. I did own a rubber ducky vibrator when I had a bathtub, and love bubble baths. I used a Sponge Bob toothbrush for a while, and used a sippy cup (although they’re so damn small for drinking enough liquids). I've never worn adult diapers but I'd consider it - for pee play, but I've never been interested in poopie. I don't imagine being able to "goo-goo" as my only language. So, I don't think I fall into an adult-baby role per se.

I'm also not too attracted to behaving like a sexually-charged teenager, because I associate that more with rebellion and seeking independence, both of which I'm not eager to engage in or exaggerate. I was this for many years beyond teen years. As a punk rocker in my 20's, I'd wear short plaid skirts, a thong, and boy boxers, combat boots and tight tank tops. I did this to great effect and affect. I have dressed up as a Catholic school girl for many Halloweens. I'm still into the dress-up factor, but I'd rather be somewhere where I can play in a sandbox, revel in finding new bugs, learn about new ideas, be creative without being conscious of it, and still have disciplinary rules upon me. (Basically, take those elements and grow them up and you'd have me now: still interested in getting messy, adventurous, exploratory, creative, and imposing my own discipline.)

This doesn't necessarily translate into something sexual, but there is an element that I like to incorporate. No, I was never sexually abused or taken advantage of as a kid - neither by my father, other relatives, or strangers. In fact, I was the instigator many times in sexuality exploration with other kids. I was the "boy" in play with a girl friend when we were eight years old -- on top of her and humping like we knew what we were doing. I asked a boy to show me his and I'd show him mine. I'd never really, deeply played with this girlie side within a sexual context. Some lovers might have taken care of me on a certain level, but only a few dared to go into a space where they'd actually focus on me being a little girl and them being older. Two in particular come to mind. One, a vanilla lover, was turned on when I opened the Pandora's box and he saw me - my body - looking like a 16-year-old's and how hot that was. A dom I played with who was twenty-years my senior got into it with me and even went so far as to make me promise not to tell anyone, not mommy, not anyone at school.

At first, I found it silly. I'm a grown woman, and I'm conscious of wanting this but felt ridiculous acting it out. Also, with others my age, I couldn't quite grasp the idea that I could be girlie, under their care or instruction or seduction. And with the dom, I did find it titillating but I wasn't sure I wanted the whole "secrecy" thing - don't tell anyone. I do recall replying back to him though, "I promise not to tell anyone. Am I better than Mommy? I want to be better than Mommy."

So, from here where? I have enjoyed going to sleep with a lover and gently sucking on his cock as a pacifier. I definitely can imagine doing it again. I'd love to get fully into the little girl Lolita. Pigtails, panties, tee-shirt and no bra, a sundress or tomboy jeans. I could make some fingerpaint art for my daddy, beg for bedtime stories, clean up my room in twenty minutes flat, be left alone to play with my smarty pants mind toys, or help take care of any of daddy's owies or needs. I wanna have lollipops, an’ cereal every morning, and an apple a day keeps the doctor away, watch cartoons, go for bike rides, look at birds in the forest, be silly, draw faces on my hand with a purple pen, make birthday cakes, go to the zoo, learn new star names at the planetarium, watch worms in the mud, take baths and scrub behind the ears, meet other little girls and boys, get big pushes in the swing, go sledding down big hills, drink hot cocoa, paint my nails with bright pinks, get bruises and push on 'em, pick at my scabs, wear elephant band aids, drink juice out of my sippy cup, and ask daddy any question I have even if it's naughty.

Yup. That’s what I want. Uh huh.

Oh, and teddy bears and big hugs. I wanna watch scary movies and close my eyes real tight. I wanna chase the pigeons and catch butterflies. Wanna write letters to Santa Claus and try to find four-leaf clovers. Wanna learn how to cook and be careful of fire. Wanna have chores to do like washing dishes or taking the garbage out. Wanna listen to “Free To Be, You and Me” and sing real real loud. Wanna help Daddy fix things and learn how they work. Uhmmmm… What else? Hmmmm… Want Daddy to help me pick out the right clothes and tell me if it’s gonna be real cold or real warm out today. Wanna wanna hmmm…. Be a good girl for sure. Yeah. I think that’s it for today.

(To see the images in larger size, you need to have viewing access to my Flickr pix.)

Never thought of it from your point of view

Along the lines of the conversation in comments with Wilfried, I read this post by Graydancer explaining an aspect of an event he'd organized. Fascinating to think about what point of view others have that I don't (can't).

"My Fishbowl discussion is a perennial part of the GRUE, a chance for tops, bottoms, and switches to ask frank questions of each other and hear the responses from an insulated pool - where the people asking the question just listen, and the people answering discuss it amongst themselves. Here's the questions each group asked:

The subs asked:

For Tops:

1. Are you ok with silent sub space?
2. What aftercare do you want?
3. How obedient is too obedient?

For Switches

1. Is it a 50/50 Split?
2. What do we need to do to get you into Top Space?
3. Is it more difficult to play with another switch?

The doms asked:

For Subs:

1. What is the most annoying thing I do to you?
2. What is often missing from a scene that you need to get where you need to go?
3. What thing do you wish we would carry in our toy bag?

For Switches

1. Since you have needs as both top & bottom, can any one scene fulfill you?
2. When you switch, do you go from one side to the other completely?
3. Do you feel persecuted?

The switches asked:

For Tops:

1. Why don't you switch?
2. What bottoming experiences have you had?
3. Do you think switches are aliens?

For Bottoms:

1. Why don't you switch?
2. What topping experiences have you had?
3. Do you bottom for someone who bottoms for someone else?

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Frankly, I found it very interesting to see the questions. I would have never thought that doms were curious about their annoying behavior or that they saw switches as possibly unfulfill-able. Or that switches thought that tops viewed them as aliens, or were curious about the connection for subs between topping experiences and switching. While the sub questions to tops are easily relatable and understandable for me: we want to be allowed to have silent subspace (is that ok with you?), we undeniably still want to care for you, we also don't want to be too annoying! And to switches: we would see you as tops if we heard you fell to a 51%top/49%bottom and we'd want to encourage you to go there, and how does it work to encompass both?

Not just a cool way to engage in discussion that might not always happen, but a really neat sociological exercise. ... Although, maybe it's just because I've been out of the loop for a long time and am peeking back in.

silly, but

I hope this is in reference to me:


FetLife

category: Master and slaves

subject post by "snuggles":
if you scare Dominants how can you get one

post:
Ok Masters and everyone inbetween

a slave girl we know real time arrived on Masters doorstep today saying she scares Doms away so how can she get a Master when they are all too soft and she can walk all over them.

she has been in a M/s relationship 3 years that ended last November and has now decided its time to be owned again, but hit the problem that because she is into Edge play the Doms run off so she came to my Masters house begging help, because need is killing her

So if you are a strong minded female who has lived 24/7 as a slave how do you move onwards when you had no limits because they were all removed..


reply by "RavenMuse":

It isn't an easy search. My girl got labled a brat because she would walk all over the people she was meeting.... then she met Me and found that when she tried pushing it got her exactly nowhere, like trying to push a brick wall. Which of course was exactly what, without really realising it, she'd been looking for. Someone who wouldn't cave in.

she is far from being a brat, she is a girl I am proud to Own and her behaviour is impecable. The only time there is any pushing from her now is if she feels insecure, but it still gets her nowhere.... which reasures her that the world is as it should be, the walls and structure that she draws strength and security from are as solid as ever... the pushing stops as soon as it started.

To move onward, your friend isn't just looking for a Dom, but someone strong enough to Master her. Wish her the best of luck.



reply by Mr. FD:

100% with RavenMuse.

Actually such profile as your friend's is not a rare one y far. Met many and I am currently in contact with one. she simply needs no space to wiggle at all (not an inch), no way out, direct closing and put back to order if trying little schemes (mosltly semi consciously), and full / clear directivity.

Such beahavior is usually a call for deep, deep control and general take over.

It is not that complicated to implement, provided one... can.

She should avoid bedroom kinksters, service doms, learning ones, etc. and look for somebody experienced (who knows what handling this represents), strict, fully self reliant and not in need of anything etc. You get the drift, I imagine.

Conductor of my train

Oh my.

What the fuck have I done?

What the hell is going to happen?

Three months left in the program. I've got 3 classes and am working on homework #1 wherein I have to - finally - give concrete recommendations and pretend I know what the fuck I'm doing. How to solve teacher absence in a developing country. It's not as if I can just offer implementation of internet to document their appearance, teaching, and conduct. Nor can I offer that they all get salaries paid on time or food programs because the financial crisis has reduced everyone's budgets. Then there's the final graduation project, wherein we're supposed to make hard recommendations on anti-discrimination and diversity management for European firms (these are both new initiatives in EU - shocking, but true). Also, I'm job hunting.

"Listen to the little voice," I heard a classmate say. Yes, now it is time to tune inwardly and figure out what I want to do with all this knowledge and all these (supposed) skills.

The little voice could not contain itself any longer in one regard that could very well change my entire life. Mr. OKC (now known as Mr. FD) found me and opened the little drawer into which I had neatly and gently laid my submissiveness. Well, that's an exaggeration and a lie. Actually, I pulled her out, threw her down, tied her hands, and gagged her myself.

My lovely friends W and Sarah had invited me to many outings in Paris and I attended some, but found no immediate gratification or connection. School has taken the lead and time was of the essence. I thought it'd be easier in the land of "Story of O" but without the time to insert myself into the scene and not able to commit to anything of substance, I gave up. On top of that, my other dominant skills have been required in school: concentrate, schedulize, speak up in class, take decisions, manage other people, run a conference, be bold and don't give up. It's not to say one can't be both a submissive and independently strong, but I wasn't finding ways to reconcile the two so I opted for the latter (the reason to be in Paris anyway). Priorities. Thus, instead, I went for fulfilling basic needs through sex and asking lovers to spank me, write on me, use me, hurt me, overpower me. Temporary outlets, small and short bursts of letting the sub out, and not all that fun or smart or fulfilling. Yet, they were (are?) instants (instances) of necessity.

But now, with less time focusing on papers and classes, and more time focusing on me, I've gradually heard her whimpers and let Mr. FD invite her out to play. He's been thoroughly welcome in the past weeks, and gracious and proper. He's handled my incessant emails with generous replies, accurate information, intelligence, sympathy, and tease. All while "Adam" reappeared.

I've not been able to eat much lately. I'm smoking too much and drinking too much. Not having deadlines and having vacation and beginning of the semester led to me goofing off and brought Adam back home. I went out on a date with the Business Owner and we talked for 3 hours and I got a slight good-night kiss. We went out again and I got a longer kiss but had to make the last bus to get enough sleep for class in the morning. I went out with the Ex-Model and had whiskey and then went down the street to his office where I sat on his lap as we reviewed his web business, then got finger-fucked and he came on my face. I went out with the Ministry of Defense guy and - with the power of my email exchanges and growing interest in Mr. FD and growing release of sub me - wasn't so interested as his twitchy, coked-up quirks and after an hour, smiled, put 10E down and walked out giddy.

I then, in a bit of drunkenness (whiskey and self-esteem), proceeded to put my foot in my mouth and down my throat to Mr. FD in emails. He made a joke and I felt randy and said I'd want to punch his arm for that and maybe wrestle him and he basically said he wasn't interested in a bratty or testing sub. The next day I spent like 2 hours reviewing my horrible messages and formulated an appropriate apology. My drunken outbursts would have been welcome with James or bd or pdh, but not now.

Me: So, I'd push and provoke to [get] more domination. But I know that that was a specific situation in which that behavior was allowed. It wasn't appropriate for me to write those things last night to you though.

Him: No, indeed, it was not. ....But I do appreciate the subsequent understanding and proactiveness in the matter.

Sure, Mr. FD knows I'm not a saint, although I haven't revealed too much of the crazy - although I'm sure he saw it in my manic words. But he's not a rigid person either, with a history of extreme sports and an enjoyment of the grass (and, James, go figure: a back problem!).

Then, last night I saw the Business Owner and we went to a red-light hotel and fucked - or tried to. Having been married for many years he went limp with the condom. This kind of sealed the deal for me. I have no idea what Mr. FD's cock is like or what his breath smells like or how he moves. But I do know he comes with recommendations, can sparkle my cunt by reaching through my mind, and will give me a pleasure that is greater than cum on the face, finger fucking, limp dick, or (as with Tall Tom) criticism that I'm like a corpse.

Yes yes, it is partly sub dreamland, but the rational me is tuned, as well. Yes yes, I have grandiose ideas, but the realistic me is seeing the bigger picture. Yes yes, I'm letting myself get carried away, but the grounded side of me has bought the ticket.

Go-go adventure mum + rationalizing dad. I will not go into the details of the cost of the tickets, nor will I go into how ridiculous I feel when I think about it in terms of money. But I will say, thank you Chinese people for letting me use my loan money for the unknown pain and pleasure I'll be feeling in a week and 3 days.

Why am I doing it? What am I really doing? Well, I'm banking on the descriptions of his expertise, playland, concepts, psychological power. I'm building trust about his person, abilities, awareness, care. I'm being smart by scheduling a way out with friends who know where I'll be, what I'll be doing, and knowing they're available if I need. I'm, as he's seen "a damsel in distress," with a great, strong need to be tied up (or down), beaten, challenged, fed from a bowl, fucked from behind, demanded of, enlightened, given the space to serve, encouraged to become the best sub I can become.... within the space of a weekend. It's an introduction and could become the beginning.

Me: speaking of legitimacy and such, do any of your sub friends on FetLife have particular recommendations for groups [to join]? I looked through about 20 pages of listed groups and found none of true interest. I feel like a novice, but am not and have not found the "I was in, then out, now getting back in" again groups. And, frankly, some of those subs need to learn how to spell!

Him: You can ask [her], she is an intelligent and very active poster (in RL working for a [xyz] company and finishing off a MA in [abc]). If you don't get any satisfying answer, I'll direct you to some other of my friends. If you do not find a group that caters to you current predicament, why not create one? Later you could also create "I was in, then out, then got back in and now I am in so deeep"

Sigh, I'm a lover of words and good minds. We'll see what happens next.