Monogamy and BDSM, part 2

You probably know my friend, Vile from the kinky world of Vile.  Now Vile often rails quite emotionally against cheaters and for good reason…They are usually dirt bags.  You don’t suck another person into an intense encounter with promises you have no intention of keeping, and create emotional bonds that you have no desire to support, just for sex.  A slave is meant to be used, but that use is in return for all the things that the dirt bag has no intention of supplying.

That being said, a few people of my acquaintance have maintained BDSM relations outside of their marriage.. Let’s see, there is a lady who loves to spank, a bottom to a rope lover top, and poly woman who mostly tops, to name a few.  It works for them.  In these cases, those folks have a long term BDSM relation that is still going strong.  Does their spouse know?  Not sure.  Wasn’t my place to ask.  I know the people in the BDSM side are happy, and planning to stay together.

From My Core Beliefs, number four of ten:  Thou shall be  mindful that honesty does not require that you to respond to a demand for information, but trust does.  The building blocks of trust, are honesty.

Here is the point of that reference.. If you don’t trust someone, and you know that they may use information against you, then you have no ethical obligation to provide them with that ammunition.. You must still be honest… since this should be a core value, but you should not volunteer the bullets to shoot you with.  You are allowed to stay tight lipped.

And how, you may ask, does that apply to this conversation?   Glad you asked.  IF you desire to have a BDSM relation, and your spouse isn’t interested, then you would have to go outside that relation to get it.. that’s pretty straight forward.

Now where that reference comes into play is that your spouse should pretty much fall onto one side of that equation or the other.. either you can trust them with your needs and your desire to go outside the relation for BDSM, or you can’t trust them.. you know they will take that ammunition and shoot you in the head.

So let’s look a little deeper.  If your spouse is the second type, the one that can’t be trusted, then you have to ask yourself, why the hell are you not pressing for divorce?  Really!  Just get the fuck out.  If you have no real communication with a person then no excuse under MY sun could make me stay committed to staying in that relation.

It goes without saying that if you are married, there once was a time you trusted this person, but people change, and people make bad decisions, addictions can destroy everything, and what was once good, can turn very, very bad. So get out.  When two people become one the worse life that has to offer is not so bad.  When the worse life has to offer is what one of you has become, that’s very, very bad.  For better or worse, applies to the first situation, not the second.

What if your spouse can be trusted, and is loving, caring and wants to see you happy?  They may allow you to go outside the marriage for your BDSM experience, but I have to tell you that they are a fool.  The bonds and desires you will create are far stronger than any simple craving for sex.  And if you DO take them up on such an agreement, it is highly likely you will find this to be true yourself.

Time and time again, a no body fluid bonding agreement has resulted in an BDSM experience so rich, that the spouse ended up wanting to leave anyway.  Maybe to live it 24×7, or maybe because they realized the lie of staying with a person they no longer loved as much as their BDSM partner.

In other words, damned if you do and damned if you don’t.  I could have just agreed with Vile and said leave.. but I wanted to build the case..show you that logically you must reach a point of decision and that decision should have consequences and all of it has to be aligned with your life and your ethics.

It’s a pretty shitty person who makes sure they have the next relationship lined up before they drop the current one.  But by the same token, if you have a house, and children with someone, you may just want to try out BDSM for the purpose of determining if its worth all the heartache of taking apart what you’ve built. Its OK to want to live life on your terms, and it makes sense to feel badly about yourself for a while if you discover that you do need to leave, but you should feel like a really, really big shit if you discover you need to leave, and don’t.

Living life on your terms, while sharing life with another person is a complex thing.  I don’t have all the answers because everyone’s situation is different.  It is entirely possible that you need to go poly.  More on that later, but briefly:  It is possible that one partner will give you what you need of one thing, and another partner will give you what you need of another thing.  Life is never simple.

For most people though, I think monogamy is a touch stone and it almost always boils down to just leaving.  You have to because you want it all.  Just remember: DO NOT compromise your ethics while you are making plans to not compromise your desires.   If you come to the realization you need to change our life, do it in a way that is within your personal ethics.

But what about scenes with no sex in a dungeon??.. Does monogamy preclude you from enjoying those BDSM encounters?   What about Masters that want two slaves?  Well, lets cover that in part 3..  Izrina got in late.. and I started watching “Secretary” while I was missing her, which made me miss her even more.. I have some important Dom things to do..

Monogamy and BDSM

Monogamy is a funny thing.. Like the girl who was serially monogamous… she only slept with the person she was dating that week.  Technically, if she broke up with the poor bloke who was the latest fling, she wasn’t cheating on anyone when the next day she picked out this week’s winner of the poke that pussy contest.

Then there was the dude who swore to his girl.. those other women meant nothing to me.. they were just sex, its you I love.  In a weird kind of way he actually was monogamous because his heart.. if he actually has one in that black hole in his chest.. was never a participant in poke the pussy..  but presumably his heart was pumping his girl’s pussy.. any one buy this line?

If you think that exchanging sticky body fluids is the key to monogamy you are sadly mistaken.. Even if you slap a bag on that thing and don’t spill inside, sex with or without body fluid bonding.. is not required for a strong connection..

As sticky that subject gets, many a married person has said to their spouse.. I want to try this BDSM thing.  They can tie and flog me but no sex, I promise.. And the hapless and gullible partner agrees, not understanding that when this is your orientation, the person who gives you what you need to feel alive, has opened a whole new world in which that person is the sun, and the center of a perfect universe.. In other words.. the spouse may be faithful by staying “sexually monogamous” but they care more for the person they are NOT having sex with, than the person they are.

Many an experienced owner and slave play in scenes.  A scene is quite different than starting a BDSM relation, but still, a scene has a level of penetration.. even if it isn’t physically sexual.  Maybe you don’t body fluid bond, but its a good question to consider..when you S&M scene with others.. is THAT..an potential emotional danger to your existing relation commitments..  You have to ask yourself these questions.

But not tonight.. I’m tired and often write 1,000 word essays.  Lets mix it up and both take it slower for a change.  Chalk this up to part 1 of the Monogamy and BDSM piece I am working on.. More tomorrow.. Carpe Diem my friends.. Be someone’s great day.

Pain, sadness, and loneliness

The shadow of my former self sat in darkness, a beer by his hand, wallowing in the sadness that sought to crush him. All love had left the room, every corner of his mind filled with broken glass that cut with every thought that moved.  He had no power, no glory, none of than which defined him when she was by his side.  The air filled with music, selected for the occasion, and he took deep ragged breaths, not quite crying..though the music filled his eyes with tears as he thought of all he had lost.  He took another sip of sadness, or maybe it was beer, and wrapped his pain like a blanket around himself, and tightened it around his neck, wishing to end his life.

No light reached him, no kind word could penetrate his mood. I see myself now, this sad pathetic creature, gnawing at his cold and broken heart, wishing to consume himself with his own pain.  I can see him so clearly and my future self wants to reach back into time..and slap the fucking shit out of that person, and then hold him.

I want to say to him, have you no small treasure?  Have you no small pile of golden memories to nurse with happiness?  Have you nothing to be thankful for?  Are there no flowers left in your world?  Is there no where you can go to hear the laughter of children? Can you not rise each morning and see the hope that begs you to take it into your arms?

I wish I could be sorry for you but I cannot, I want to fucking slap you.  You make me angry! This life you have been given is not about what you were getting but what you can give!  Have you nothing left to give?  Can you not lend a hand to an elderly person, hold a door for a stranger? Can you not rescue an animal from a shelter?  Are there no soup kitchens begging for volunteers?

Love is all that is worth living for, and worth dying for, but you are a blind fucking fool.  Love is not outside you!  Love comes from deep within you.  You were born as a conduit for love and yet you have shut yourself out from it. Love is like a light, and it longs to pulse through your veins,  to fill you with the pain of knowing that you can never, and I mean absolutely never be alone.

If you want to nurse pain, nurse the pain of the unbearable light of that mana.  You cannot contain all the love that will pour through you when you open yourself to that love. If you must nurse pain, nurse that pain.  When this light peels away the crust from your eyes, so that you see your fellow man through its eyes, and you suddenly love the saint and the sinner, when you see your fellow man struggling in the very pain you now hold, and  you love them for all their flaws and troubles.. then you will be lifted up, and sustained.

No, my former self, sitting in the darkness, nursing your pain.. I cannot feel sorry for you. I am angry with you. You need a wake up call, and I your future self am here now, finally to show you the way.  Your future is bright.. oh if you only knew the joy that you will feel some day.  Now dust yourself off…find that small pile of treasure you have conveniently hidden, and count your blessings.  Then, and only then.. go out and be someones great day.  Namaste!

The one blog you should read…

If you never read another blog….read this one…

It’s the day after the North East Power Exchange competition and now that it’s over, I can finally talk about the struggle that Izrina faced leading up to it.  I ordered her to boot black and she was hoping she would not have to.. really hoping.  Problem is, I wanted this, and I wasn’t going to back down.

Why wouldn’t she want to, you might wonder?  She gets nervous, really nervous in the spotlight.  She argued that she wasn’t prepared, that she might embarrass us both, that I was setting her up for failure, and that it might trigger her hard  limit.  She has a hard limit on humiliation.  Oh!.. she really tried to argue her way out of it.   I am sure she considered every word I have uttered, in every lesson, in every principle I have ever laid down, looking for a loophole that would let her off the hook.

I rejected the notion that she couldn’t be prepared.  I assured her that I would be proud of her, that she could never embarrass me.  I explained that she could not fail if she pleased me – I am the only one she needed to please – I am the only one she can fail.

I rejected the notion that this was a hard limit.  I can’t have her living under a rock.  I love the lime light way too much. She will just have to hide behind me while I go into those scary places and sometimes.. she’ll have to be in the spot light like she is today in this blog, like she was yesterday, sitting with her sisters under the boot black sign.

I would love someday for us to compete, and for her to stand beside me and speak freely about her side of the dynamic and what it means to her in the competitions… but we will see.. someday perhaps.  Izrina- when you read that my pet.. you do NOT have permission to worry yet..

In the days leading up to the event, she would worry, and I would remind her that making decisions was my job.  And she would worry some more and I would remind her that shouldering her worries was my job.  And so it went..

I don’t compromise with my slave, I compromise with reality. ~ Quote – Raven Kaldera, speaking about being flexible as a Master

I wasn’t going to compromise.

Some argue that submission does not take strength. It does. Dominance does not require strength. It requires the gentle patience to apply irresistible force to the strength of that submission, until it bends comfortably, happily, to your will. ~Xtac Quote

Now, here is something interesting dear reader, that I’ve touched on before:  Domination and writing blogs has a quirks..I wrote about these quirks here.   Two recent blogs, in light of all the above information, should now fit like puzzle pieces into the last few days of writings. First I wrote “Does your humility interfere with your slavery?” and then I wrote “I am ignoring you, slave!”.

I wrote those pieces a much for you, as for her. NOW, you can see how those pieces were influenced and shaped by our behind-the-scenes drama.  I was in the middle of being the irresistible force that I am, busy molding my slave into who I wanted her to be, but I couldn’t come out and say that.

If I posted that before hand I would have further* boxed her into a public humiliation if she exercised consent.  (*NPE had listed her.)  Knowing all this I felt that it was best to leave some room for consent.  If she exercised consent I would have owned up to it.  Its how we roll.  It wouldn’t have been OK, but it is a consensual slave’s right. So I danced around this Master slave battle of wills in my blogs and pressed on.

The humility piece was an indirect look at her worries and fears. The ignoring piece was about laying down the law and being that irresistible force.  Both was a veiled look behind the blog at our lives.  If you pick up nothing else from me, get this one.  You manage the mind of your slave, not their body.  Patience combined with a strong will are your most powerful tools.  Anger can be a useful tool but you should almost never need it.

On the day before the competition, she asked for permission to worry.  Let me say that again.. She asked for permission to worry.  I am so proud of that girl some times it make my heart ache.   I granted permission, but only for a couple hours because we had important preparations to make,

and then I said: The only way you could disappoint me is to not go.  Izrina replied:  You won’t let me.  

OK.. I wanted to cry.  Do you get the significance of the statement?  This is a highly intelligent woman.  She understands her power to exercise consent.   She studied law, she argues like a lawyer, she never goes into anything without research. She always has her facts down.  What would make her say “you won’t let me”?  Only this this: She was made incapable of exercising her right of consent by her powers of reasoning.  Because of that, in her mind, my will was in a very real way the only law that she could follow.  She would rather risk having a meltdown, than disappoint me.

She dressed in jeans for the boot blacking but for the dinner came out in a striking black dress.. simply beautiful.   There were workshops and some really exciting scenes and a wonderful burlesque show but we will get into all that in another blog.  I am dedicating this particular blog to the subject of Resolving Master and slave conflicts.  Here is a real world example of the things I preach about, the things that we go through, and how they might end.

Mine was a happy ending.  I couldn’t be more proud of my slave.  Oh..and I’m proud that I was honored to be a NPE judge, and all that “I’m awesome” jazz.. blah, blah, blah.. It’s not about me, like that.  It’s about me because of she who is my canvas.  It is a slave’s duty to make the Master they serve look good.  Izrina managed this time to exceed my wildest expectation.  Good girl!

Creative Writing – knife play

Written some time ago, I present this is semi-fictional, a collection of things I’ve done with sharp pointy things, but not all together with the same person, as presented here. The term tanto, along with other interesting knife terms can be found at one of my favorite knife sites:
Knife Anatomy by Jay Fisher

Edge Play
A semi-fictional story by Xtac (pronounced Ecstasy)
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There was something undeniably irresistible about him from the very first time she saw him. Where other men had tried to rule her life, he just did; as if it was his birthright. He commanded her as easily as breathing, grasping her firmly, taking her breath away, and then dismissing her, as a “vanilla”.

He was infuriating and insufferable but mysterious and so she stayed, probing, asking questions until at last he explained about the life he lead, and how she could not be a part of it.

Dark secrets, both hers and his were exchanged, each bringing them closer to a world that both could share. It was all new to her and yet the excitement she felt to be in his command, to have the pain she needed, to have it administered by another, to have this burden of guilty painful pleasure lifted and placed in the hands of another; placed in the hands of this man which she now trusted completely with all her being and soul, was too delicious, too incredibly powerful a force to deny.

He brought his bag of “toys” in from the car, with her in tow. A small group of friends they had made at the local munch, gathered in the living room, anxious for the show, for the scene they would offer. He walked her to the center of the room and took the “scene collar” he always wore, from around his neck offering it to her. They had played out this scene before, she knew it well.

Will you, he asked, take this collar for the duration of this scene, and to the best of your abilities, strive to be my slave as long as you wear it? Will you obey my commands, attempt to anticipate my wants, and will you trust me to act in your best interests and needs? Yes Sir, she answered meekly, eyes down. She held her hair up, as the coldness of the precious metal encircled her neck. Precious; yes precious, she thought. Not because it is silver, but because he gives it to me, even if only temporarily for this scene, because he wants me, and offers me this chance to be his. As long as I wear this, I get to call him Master instead of Sir. Yes, this is precious, she thought.

He finished clasping the toggle of the scene collar and placed a hand at her chest, between her breasts, pushing her back silently up against the bed room door which was closed. He left her there, ignoring her while he laid out his toys in neat rows. She watched, nervously, wanting to fidget, but wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She wanted to finger the collar, touch it but decided it was better to do nothing until ordered, so she watched and waited for him to finish. She stole a glance around the room. Doms and subs sat comfortably, silently watching this scene play out. She swallowed nervously. He knew that she used to cut herself. She had professed to be turned on by the idea of edge play. Hell when he talked about it, she had turned soaking wet, but this, now it was happening, this was real.

Out of the toy bag came floggers and rope, leather restraints and metal hardware, and now, a particularly nasty collection of knives. One was curved like an eagle’s talons. Another was oddly shaped, like a small samurai sword. Sir had shown this one to her before. He called it a tanto knife. All gleamed with the steel of razors. She found her knees going weak, and a tremble shook her body, a wake of fear, doubt, and the undeniable wetness of excitement flooded her being.

He pulled her forward away from the door, opened it, threw a pair of temporary suspension hooks over the top and then closed they door. He placed his hand again to her chest, fingered the silver collar and smiled, then pushed her back into the door. The wood was firm, hard against her back. He placed his hands on either shoulder, fingers up the sides of her neck, thumbs under her chin.

Cupping her face in his hands, he looked deeply into her in the eyes, and smiled saying, “It’s going to be OK”. She forced a weak smile, but her stomach turned in flip-flops and her panties soaked. So odd, she thought, how he commands me, how I respond, how I stay. She closed her eyes and waves of red hot sexual energy coursed over her clit and up her spine. His hands traveled slowly down again. She tremble again, under his touch. He stopped at her cleavage, and turned to the toys. It was like a break in continuity, to not have him touch her. It was an absence, a longing, she wished he would continue.

He fastened a leather shackle around her wrist, pulling it tightly until encircled and squeezed. The leather squeaked, that familiar pleasant sound that leather makes when it moves. As he placed the tongue of the buckle into its hole, the pressure released ever so slightly. He commanded her to take off her shirt and she did so hesitantly, not used to doing so with others in the room. She handed him the shirt and he folded it neatly and placed it with the toys, then guided her shackled wrist up, over her head and snapped it into the restraint at the top of the door.

She wanted to bring her free hand over her breasts, but he grabbed this one now, and after placing a shackle on it as well, bound her second wrist up over her head. She stood there, exposed, deep breaths making her chest rise and fall. She wanted to cover, to fidget, and a half dozen other things she could not while bound like this. She felt panic, at the fringes of her being, a reaction, that she suppressed. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply and slowly.

He reached over to his toys and selected a rectangle piece of stone, a whetstone, used for sharpening knives, and placed it in her right hand. Hold that, is all he said. She looked out over the room, attempting to keep her calm. The stone was heavy and rough, with hard corners. She turned it slowly in her hand, being very, very careful not to drop it.

Next he selected a small but wicked looking knife and raised it slowly, holding it directly in front of her face. See how sharp this is, my pet, he cooed in a low voice? Yes Master, she replied simply. I want you, he said, to hold this in your hand, by the blade, and be very, very careful not to run your finger over the edge. Do not squeeze it too hard or you will cut yourself. Yes Master she replied again.

He turned the knife and placed the flat of blade against the palm of her opened left hand. He paused, the steel lightly touching, as he placed his other hand at her chin, looking deeply into her eyes with a wicked smile, and said. If there is any cutting, I’ll do it, is that understood? Yes Master, again she intoned, but in her mind, the message was clear, he was testing her. By giving her the blade to hold, he was risking that she might cut herself, and daring her, taunting her, challenging her, not to do it. Her finger closed slowly, carefully around the razor edges, as she stared back into his eyes. His smile disappeared for a fraction of a second and his voice was a thousand whips, cutting his command into her, “Don’t disappoint me” is all he said.

While she carefully held the two objects her master had entrusted to her, he turned back to the guests and their host, completely ignoring her. I need something with ice in it, he said, preferably a bucket or small saucepan. Do you think we can rustle up such an item? Oh!, and everyone? He said, Now would be a great time to get a drink.

The group got up, milled around and he disappeared into the kitchen with the host. They came back with a small metal saucepan, filled with ice cubes and placed it next to the toys. She felt his intent, to put her on display, to give her time with the knife in her hand. She closed her eyes, and the room went away. If guests were staring at her, that was easy to block out, but the knife, damn the knife was there. The weight of it pressed against the pad of her thumb, against her fingers. If she moved it to a better balance so it wouldn’t be so heavy. But how could she move it without cutting herself. I must not let it cut me, I must not let it cut me, she thought over and over.

Time dragged on. Slow torturous time. Less pressure, lighter grip, don’t let the knife fall, over and over, until time stood still and it was only her and the knife, eyes closed, focused on this one task. She barely noticed as the guests filtered back into their seats, drinks in hands, and all eyes were on her, the slave, chained to the door, eyes tightly closed, holding the knife by its sinister sharp blade.

She was suddenly aware of his return, as he gently grasped her wrist. First, I’ll take this, he said. He grasped the handle and very carefully, slowly unwrapped her fingers from it. He thrust the knife into the ice bucket, and left it there. He took her hand and carefully inspected it for cuts, but she had been very careful, very delicate with the long grip on the blade. He kissed her hand, and then trailed his touch down her arm to her ear, well done my pet, he cooed.

Next he took a small blindfold from his toy bag, and approached her. Panic welled up in her throat, and she squeezed the whetstone hard. Ready? Is all he asked. “yes Master” she weakly replied. The blindfold slid over her head, and darkness fell. The room disappeared. She felt the blackness engulf her, and she clung now to the sounds of the room.

At first, she heard only the whispering of guests, but as she adjusted, she began to notice the sounds of traffic outside, and the occasional odd noises that we never notice, usually. He stepped close, very close and the smell of him was wonderful. He grasped her right arm, unhooking and lowering it. His breath was on her neck, his body so close, then came his deep voice at her ear. Edge play, my pet, is all he said.

The whetstone was still in her free hand as he took hold of this arm, pushing her elbow back into the door. I want you, he said, to keep your elbow at the door, and your arm against your side. He grasp her hand with the stone. Hold it like this, he said, and positioned her fingers in a circle around the stone. Now, he said in a low voice, don’t move. Hold the stone perfectly still. I am going to sharpen this knife, and I don’t want you to lose a finger.

She could feel the stone heavy in her hand and now it felt that much heavier. She heard the rustle of ice as he took the knife from the bucket. He placed his hand under hers. His knee slid between her legs and braced both of them against the door. His arm was just under her breasts, as he laid the knife against the stone. He slid the knife against the stone, the scary sound of steel against something harder. It scraped and the sound went through her. He leaned close. The edge can slide against your fingers, he said, but only one side cuts. As if to make the point a cold edge came in contact with her first finger. Now, he said, if I slide this against your finger fast, you won’t feel anything until the sting sets in, or he added with an evil chuckle, doesn’t sting, depending on what side I use.

Her mind reeled. Yes Master escaped her lips like a gasp. She wished now, that both hands were tied again so that she could collapse. The tremble in her knees gently shook her whole body. She struggled to hold the stone steady, to stop the trembling. Fast, he said simply. and then, before she could prepare herself, completely without warning it was over before she realize it started. He drew the blade quickly, lightly, over her upturned finger. By the time she realized what was happening, it was already over. He took the finger quickly and sucked on it, then bit her so hard she winced. Pain from the bite made it hard to tell if he had cut her or if he had teased her. Her senses stretched to every nerve in her finger, but still, from the darkness of her blindfold, she wasn’t sure.

He began to draw the blade slowly over the stone again, going back and forth, the sick sound of scraping, filling her ears. Her finger throbbed and still she could not be sure what had happened. She felt it then again, this thing she felt for this man, the man that did these things to her. She felt it like a need, like love, but somehow deeper, stronger, more powerful a pull than she had ever know a man could make her feel. It didn’t fit with anything she ever knew, but it was there, this need for him use her.

You have three more perfectly good finger tips sticking up, he chuckled, as he worked with the stone. Yes Master, again she found herself saying. What more could she say? What more should she say? Should she tell him that he owned her? That he could take her body however he pleased? Should she beg him to mark her, claim her? What more could she say, that he did not already know? He knew that he owned her. He had know that he would from the first day she met him.

He finished sharpening the knife without further incident, or so she assumed when the sound of scrapping stopped and she heard him place it in the ice. She took a deep breath, and realized that she been barely breathing. The sound of sloshing and ice bumping around the knife told her that, for now, the steel was sheathed. He took the stone from her hand, and she realized that her hand was trembling, or at least it was, until he took hold of it, and kissed it.

Slowly, deliberately, he kissed each finger tip, sucking it, and then placed his teeth at the root of her cuticle, that tender pressure point that he loved to tease in public, and bit hard, sending wave after wave of pain up her arm. Wave followed wave, one for each finger, until he reached the one in question. This finger he simple kissed and then curled back, closing her hand into a fist.

He grabbed her suddenly, by both hips and spun her, facing the door. A spank at her bottom sent a warm red tingle through her, and was following by the familiar sound of leather whistling through the air. He draped the flogger over her shoulder and trailed it slowly down her back, letting her feel the leather before it sang. It was soft, warm, and sent shivers down her back as she anticipated the pain to come.

The whistle again, this time near her ears, he was teasing her, tensing her up for the first blow and when it came, full of heavy thunk, slapping down on her shoulder blades, it was almost a relief. The first was followed by another and another, and another, coming harder and faster so that the pain spread over her, and through her. She ceased to be, she became. She was alive and the sound retreated as master applied the leather that colored her back in pink, then deeper hues. He alternate left, then right, the leather flailing over skin that grew ever more sensitive, and occasionally he threw in a wicked and skillfully designed shot that sent the tails wrapping around her ribcage to kiss the sides of her breasts and tease her nipples. He drove her deeper and deeper, her mind retreating into that place where pain turns to sparks. The sparks all collected with evil glee on her clit; a weird, warm, sexual pleasure that she could not deny.

It stopped suddenly, and she fought like someone who has jumped into deep water, looking for the surface. Without the constant stimulus, there was nothing, no room, no Master, nothing. She struggled to remember what it was she was doing. Before she could come up, he yanked her bra up over her breasts. The touch, the firmness, was familiar. Sir! She felt she must cry, not for pain, but for his touch.

Her pendulant breasts fell free. The fact that there was an audience did not exist in her mind. There was only Sir and she, whoever she was. No, she existed, yes! She existed because of Sir. His hands were on her breasts, but then came pain. He applied one, then two nipple clamps. She sucked in, the pain sending new bolts down her spine. A metal chain between them dangle near her rib cage. She trembled, with only one hand still tied, strapped overhead.

Perhaps sensing she could take little more, he turn her around again slowly, and took her free hand, the one that had held the stone, back over her head. She was grateful now for the support and let some of her weight down, let herself hang a bit by her arms. He stood close, his knee once again between her legs again. She wiggle a bit, enjoying the feeling of her pussy slide against Sir, now her Master. She wanted, so much to cum. For Sir, her orgasm was a gift given to him. She wanted this, to give Sir her sign of pleasure, to cum, to feel the release, the explosion of the passion and energy that he was frothing into her. As if reading her mind, or maybe because she was practically dry humping him, he said in a low whisper in her ear, You will NOT cum without permission my pet. Yes Master, she replied, but the pleading in her voice was unmistakable.

She heard the rustle of ice as the blade was once again lifted free, her pulse quickened; she reached out with her senses, trying to feel where he was. A single cold droplet of water splashed suddenly against chest and dribbled slowly down into her cleavage. He leaned up against her, his chest, near hers, his breath on her neck, and he whispered again.. Only I can cut. The knife was again in his hands, the words themselves cut.

She started to say Yes S….. But was cut short. A searing feeling stung against her left breast. Unexpected; it was like a burn, then a pain, then cold as her mind rolled though possibilities, trying to pin down what was happening. She realized he had pressed the flat of that ice chilled blade against her and she breathed again.

She had stopped breathing. Inside her blindfold, it was dark but the feeling of this flat, cold pressure on her breast was clear. As she processed these thoughts she could feel him turn the blade in his grasp, slowly, from flat side to edge. The edge of the blade was now against her breast, his hot breath on her neck, and he said it again: Only I can cut.

A feeling not quite panic or fear washed, a feeling strong and exciting swept over her and her knees buckled. She began to buck against the knee between her legs. She wanted something inside her. The desire to cum welled up as he pulled the knife to a point and drew it slowly down her front, scratching her as he went. She felt its tip, its malevolent edge, run slowly over her exposed breast. He lightly traced the nipples. She could feel everything so clearly thanks to the extreme cold of the blade. He turned the flat to her once more and brought it under the clamps. She had nearly forgotten the clamps and it sent new courses through her as she rediscovered the pain in her nipples.

With the flat of the blade he pulled back the blade and every so lightly slapped her breast with the flat of the blade. The clamps bounced, tugging at her nipple. She bit her lower lip, relishing the fear, the pain, the feeling. He took the blade from under the clamp and slapped her breasts again and again with the flat of the blade, each a small pain, a small terror, and a delicious torment. She wondered if the edge could cut this way? As of to answer her thoughts, he turned the blade to its edge again, and then to the point. With his other hand, he took the chain from the nipple clamps and put it to her lips. Understanding instantly, she opened her mouth and accepted the reigns to her pain.

Her bra up over her breasts, her nipples pulled high by the chain in her mouth, the tip of the knife at her breast, she leaned her head back, pulling her nipples up. As she pulled her breasts up, they slid up from under the tip of the knife. Very well done my pet, he said in approving tones. The pain of the nipples, and the thought of the knife, sent more shivers though her and she bucked uncontrollably, wanting so very much to cum. She pressed her clit against his knee. I would be so easy to cum now, with just a few rubs. Only master’s command kept her at bay. The torment was delicious, then painful, an aching need that could not be denied, but must be, but couldn’t.

But Sir was not done tormenting her yet. He trailed the scratching edge of the blade over one breast then the other. He scratched down, down, over her belly to her snapped jeans. He pulled the knife away and then something hard, maybe the handle, maybe the blade itself pressed up into the folds of her jeans. She rubbed against it anyway, not caring. She needed release. “Pleassssee Master”, escaped her lips.

He tucked the handle of the knife into her panties and she no longer cared what he cut. Sir unfastened her belt and pulled it through the loops of her jeans, then began to whip her thighs with it. She danced under the blows, the knife bouncing and jiggling against her. He pulled the knife back out from where he had tucked it, and unsnapped her jeans. The invasion caused only a moments panic but was driven away quickly by another repeat of the belt whippings.

Her body screamed to orgasm, for something to buck up against, something inside her, something, something. Something snapped inside her. He was there then, with the knife, and his body, pressed against hers. He trailed the knife down her body again, and whispered once more in her ear. “I want you”, he said, “to cum for me”. “Yes Master, OH God, yes please Master” she begged.

He turned the knife and pressed against her jeans, against her clit. As if her body had a mind of its own, without regard for safety, she began to buck, humping the hard object, and as soon as she did, it was pulled away quickly, a cold thin metal line at her neck, and a whisper in her ear. Slowly my pet, he said , Slowly. Give our hosts a good show.

Yes Master, oh God, yes Master, let me cum she begged. He pressed the handle against her again and she began to move her hips, sliding her clit back and forth over it. It was cruel to ask her to hold back, driven to the edge as she was, but she did her best to obey.

Slowly, deliberately, she rolled her clit back and forth over the handle. Her body screamed for release. Her spine was a river of sexual energy coursing through her. Her knees buckled but the sturdy straps held her, pulling at her arms. She convulsed; wild uncontrolled undulations that shook her whole body. Oh Master! She screamed, as waves became violent vibrations. Like a jack-hammer she vibrated, a long low guttural scream escaping the lips of a woman cuming as she had never cum before. Oh! Oh! Oh! She ejaculated against the knife, hot wet stickiness that flooded her panties and ran down her legs. Oh God Sir, OH! Master! She bucked uncontrollably and now Sir was there, holding her, keeping her upright, riding out the waves with her. The room was silent for a very long time.

Can I get a hand here? He asked and instantly there was a Dom at either side of her, unfastening her arms. Freed, she wrapped them around him, still quivering with the after-shocks and minor tremors of her orgasm in retreat. With help from the others, she was lead to a place on the floor, at the feet of her beloved Sir, and she hugged his legs, thankful for this man. The thought came to her, in due time and she timidly checked. Yes, he was as hard as a rock still. The excitement was still in him.

2011

The worm turns (morals over ethics)

I will try to keep this brief, so that I keep your attention.  This is EXACTLY why I preach that ethics is superior to morals. It makes my blood boil.

The internet helps to  make RACK safe (risk aware consensual kink). Because we can share best practices and knowledge we are safer, and more responsible.  The internet pendulum is trying to swing the other way.  Not because of Donald J Trump, but because society attitudes always cycle. We are entering a phase where there is a new attack on porn and sexual perversion… (meaning you and I).  It’s happening around the globe.  I can’t wait 20 years for the cycle to swing around again.

 The “forces for moral enforcement” want to drive us back under the rock we came from.  Here is the plan:  dry up the ability to take payments for products and services and the porn industry dries up.. and us along with it. Everything we publish that is deemed “bad”, will die. The attack hit home on Fetlife where a thousands of accounts had to be deleted in order to stay open for what’s left of the community.   You have to ask, who will they come for next?

BDSM and some kinks will be collateral damage as credit card companies expand the  number of “obscene” sites they force to comply.  Bit Coin is not an option because it operates on credit cards for cash exchange.  Pay Pal is in bed with the credit card companies too.  You can’t start a kink friendly bank because if you can’t exchange money, you can’t operate.  This is a big hammer folks.

The “forces for good” have found a hammer and they are using it. This attack works. The “forces for good” have won this round and that will embolden them. Mark my words, after this success, they will further tighten their grip.  Princess Leah is dead.  The more they tighten their grip, the more lifestyles won’t slip through their fingers.

Do not go quietly into that night.  If you can’t put your voice into the public, at least support NCSF. You can shrug or you can get vocal with your politician, do it.  Or..support those who do and join NCSF.  This is not the end.  Society always cycles.  This too shall pass.  In the meantime, we can work to hasten it’s passing.  Don’t get hysterical, but also don’t let your guard down.. The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.


Here is what happened to Fetlife ( you need an account to read this.):
Why Fetlife was forced to amputate some of the community to save the rest.

If I had John Baku’s ear, I’d fight money with money. I’d publish the names of the offending credit card companies and encourage people to switch from cards that didn’t play ball, to ones that did.  Must be some companies that want all that internet money…


Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 19141953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Why THREE collars are important

Buckle up boys and girls, X is going all un-apologetically old-school on your ass… yes.. I know I should be consensual about it and many a Dominant type is going to be all like.. you keep your hands off my ass, but I just cant’s help it!  I feel very strongly about this one.

The question on the table is: What the fuck is this THREE collars crap?  Glad you asked.  I give workshops on collars and I am not going to go into great detail about all the nuances of collars.   I am just going to go into the subject of the three classic collars. They are: consideration, training, and final.  Maybe some day when I’m bored, I’ll post something about how you might want to consider a romantic collaring, or spiritual, or private or classic.  Or maybe you might want to be sold.. with a collaring ceremony run as a property transaction, complete with papers of ownership, a slave registry, a registration tattoo, and an inspection before purchase.  Someday.. maybe..

Now if you are not familiar with the three classic collars, no need to fret.  And for the love of God, let’s not start the discussion about Leathermen and  the roots of this.  If you don’t want to accept the three collars as “classic” I am OK with that.  I don’t want to have a discussion about it.  Traditions or not, the three classic collars serve an extremely valuable purpose and if we can’t agree on anything else, let’s at least review what the purpose is.. then tell me if you don’t agree on the value.

Holy crap batman, I’ve seen this before.. it’s slave frenzy!  When a newbie hits the streets for the first time.. . a thing called  “slave frenzy” sets in.   It’s all new to you, and it’s freaking hot and sexy.  Maybe you hit a dungeon and some dude is like.. oooh new flesh.. and they do a suspension scene.. completely consensual, and the ropes slide over skin, and the harness tightens.. and your feet slip out from under you, and the suspension scene kicks in.. and you are fucking flying.. not just literally but in subspace too.  And you want more.. its a fucking carnival and you want to try every ride.  And you gotta, gotta, gotta have a Dominant and oh my lord I just gotta do this 24×7.  Whooooaaaaa Nellie!  Pull those reins back.. you’re a runaway slave in full slave frenzy mode!  Yep!  It happens.  It’s the time when the disreputable types move in for an easy piece of ass.

The slave with the sad eyes, sits in the corner... Even the most seasoned slaves can feel used after they have been through the mill of bad relations a few times.  They offered their trust and submission to someone that was..incompatible.  Maybe the top wasn’t honest, or maybe you weren’t honest with yourself..or you just wanted to be owned so fucking much.. that you overlooked some shit.. you could bear it.. whatever.. it didn’t work.  Now the scene is all shit and you have this big hole where your heart and juicy sex used to be and you want it back.. but trust is so hard to give again.

The last thing I want to do is blow sunshine up your skirt.. or kilt… I have better things to do up there!   Hmmm.. I mean, I don’t want to give you false hope.  I don’t have all the answers, but the classic collars serve a purpose and the a fore mentioned problems are just part of what they solve.   So let’s get to it, shall we?


Collar of consideration.  The consideration collar is a bit like wearing a class ring on a necklace, this means you are going “steady”..  Hey.. I’m nearly 60.. I don’t know. do kids still go “steady”?  Maybe there is a better analogy, but when a slave and an owner come to an agreement, when they both think they might have something in common, the first thing they both want to do is let others know that there is a relationship.

Now it seems to me that nearly everyone is willing to hit on someone that is smoking hot, even if they are married, or an owned slave.  There are a lot of unscrupulous people out there. So marking your territory with a collar is of very limited value.  Only the people who understand respect are going to care that you marked your territory and those types wouldn’t be a problem in the first place.. So let’s just gloss over that as a value.. it’s not anymore.

What DOES have value is that before a Master offers a collar of consideration, before a slave accepts his or her collar, there is an opportunity for discussion. It’s a time for negotiation, to find out what’s going on inside the Dominants head. What does he or she see in this slave?  What kind of training would they offer?  How deep is this submission thing going to go?

It should also be understood that consideration means just that.  There is not commitment..on either side… Its a contract that no one should feel bad about breaking.  You are in a simple phase that might last from three to twelve months, depending on how each of you think its going.  This slows down the frenzy.. it gives time for you to both think rationally, and to realize if you are walking into a mistake.  There is time to reverse course, back out, realize that what seemed perfect at first glance, won’t be.

Training Collar.  The next collar is the training collar.  This is like an engagement ring and I am fairly sure those are still in use.  Here is the beautiful thing about a a training collar.  By the time three to twelve months have gone by, you will have had plenty of time to figure out if you both like anal or not.  If you like a leather massage or a caning.  Does the Master you are entering into a relationship push harder than you can enjoy?  Are you floating or just holding on and waiting for it to end?   You HAVE to be honest.  This isn’t about admitting you ate the last of his cherished Oreo cookies.  You are figuring out if this thing is going to work.  It’s really, really important, and the training collar says.. you got this.. you know in your heart that negotiations are over.. you are ready for this Bad boy of Dominance.. or girl.. to take you!

With a collar of consideration, you didn’t need to ask if your three responsibilities* would be respected.  You didn’t need to know if you were giving up the first of your three areas of choice*.  You didn’t need to figure out which of the four areas of TPE negotiations* would apply to this submission.  Now you have to have that shit figured out!

The training collar means negotiations are in their final stages.  Oh, you may be tweaking them here and there, but for the most part, now you know exactly where this thing is heading.  Are you starting to see the value now?   The three classic collars is a build up, these provide times to stop and pause, to reflect, and to rejoice at a new level of achievement in your relation.  Speaking of rejoicing..

The FINAL collar – We pray.. Masters and slaves alike, that the final collar IS the final collar we will ever put on.  Most come with a padlock.  They stay on.. for life.  They come with a collaring ceremony, surrounded by friends and acquaintances from all over the community.  It’s a time, not unlike a wedding, when you take the BIG plunge.  This is the one that you won’t back out of.  The consideration was nothing.. easy to break.  The training could fail, for no ones fault.  You could discover you are incompatible and split.  But the final collar, oooo baby, that’s the one.  That means yes!  The Master is saying, this is the canvas I want.  I look forward to a life of swimming deeper and deeper into his or her psyche.  I have tasted submission and it is good.  I will have it, claim it, stand above it, and carry it in times of need.  All that is left is to decide what KIND of ceremony fits you.


 

So many question unanswered.  This is just a primer… a peek at the world of collars.  It is why I give workshops on it.  This is important stuff.  But mostly, I encourage people to consider following the three classic collars.

One question would be.. what kind of collar should I get?  What should it be made of?  Does it have to be around the neck?  Can I take it off?   Who owns the collar?  Can I hide it?  What if I want it off?  So many question, but no answers now.. Its too much info for one blog.  My workshops usually run about two hours.   I blog more on this another time – perhaps.

All I want you to do is think about the concept of three collars. It’s an idea that has merit. The value of taking time to reflect on where you are going, and pausing to have a discussion each time you make a bigger commitment, is something I will always support.. even if it is a bit old-school and not popular.  It makes sense to me.. and I plan to continue to promote it as long as people invite me to speak.
Well that was a long one.. as usual.  I really do love to hear myself speak, don’t you think? Ah.. its not all bad.  I have a good idea once in a while.  Carpe Diem my friends.. go be someone’s great day.

 

Related   (* was mentioned above)

 

 

 

I am ignoring you, slave!

Unbelievable! – Can you imagine a responsible Master saying to their slave, “I am ignoring you!”?  Neither can I.   At first blush, I would say NO Master would ever do that.  We are sworn to take away your burdens, to shoulder your worries, we listen dutifully and we act.

Truth is it happens, it happens all the time, and its not a bad thing.  A few years back in the “Cult of fury”  (a dungeon  that was discovered and closed down by panicky nilla’s), I watched as a friend did a scene with his bottom.  She whined and complained and he just ignored her and went on with the scene and I smiled.  It worked for them. I turn to that memory every now and then.

Its a fact that we have safe words because no doesn’t mean no.  In fact, its kind of hot when you ignore a No!, and keep on going.  It gives you that feeling of authenticity, it makes our consensual non-consent relations feel more real.

I was speaking with Vile, a blogger who I am on page with like ivory soap.. 99.9 percent pure, all good info, all the time.  He noted something similar.  There are times that he is exactly like I describe myself.. a slow, steady, unmovable force pushing until his slave molds comfortably, happily, to his desires. I bet Arianna ( his slave ) and Izrina could swap some great stories..

Support groups!  We don’t talk about THIS often enough. Sometimes we DON’T listen.  Oh we hear the protests, the No!, the objection to where we are taking you, but we are going to do it anyway. This is why slaves need support groups.. so they can get together and agree that we are assholes but they still love us.  A great slave will promote the one they serve in public, putting forth only the goods side. That is another reason why support groups are helpful.  We all have these things that we don’t talk about, like the times an Owner didn’t listen.  In the comfort of your fellow slaves company, then is a good time to share, to know we all experience similar things, and agree that its actually a good thing, and sometimes kind of hot.  It is also a time to find out when it is not normal and that might be bad… though if your owner isn’t keeping you from support, I doubt it.  Its the ones who don’t want you in support groups to watch out for.

Deal with it!  In the TPE (total power exchange) or CNC (consensual non-consent) agreement, you signed up for this.  You gave us all this power and we are going to make you do things, that you in your heart know you wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t for us.

Its not that we don’t listen, we do.. but and forgive me because I know you are not children so this makes a poor analogy, but we do sometimes treat you like children who are whining about chores.  We hear you and we are still going to make you do them anyway.  Sometimes the results are awesome.

The good side – She who is my canvas, Izrina, if she is NOT in the middle of being made to do something and therefore in a less generous mood.. will tell you that I have pushed her into many things and in many ways she is much better off for it.  Specifically in the areas of health and finance, I’ve made very useful changes in her life.

Speaking of Izrina, she has been listed as a Boot Black in the 2017 North East Power Exchange competitions schedules page (here).  She’s nervous, but once she is sitting with her sister slaves, that will calm right down.  I love to see slaves working and laughing together.

IMPORTANT STUFF!   I think its important to note that at times a CNC may appear to actually be NOT consensual.  Slaves whine, and complain, and object, and we go right on doing things anyway.

Sometimes its hot!..On your back wench and spread your legs!  Sometimes not so much.. My back is killing me.. can I just do oral service?

Sometimes Dominants appear to be insensitive, and on one level we are.  Its kind of like the old tough love thing, we have to harden ourselves to push you to the places you asked us to make you go.

Nothing is ever as easy or simple as it sounds. When you get right down to it, a real Dominant is always open to criticisms of abuse, both physical and verbal. A slave gives the gift of trust.  We don’t think about it very often, but in a way, a Dominant gives a lot of trust too.  We are often risking very real, legal intervention in our lives.  We take on this risk, in part because we too trust.  That is, we trust this won’t be turned against us.


When you hear bad things about Dominants, here are two quotes to go with it.

Remember this-EVERY accusation of consent violation has a predator and a victim..every one. The real question is, who is the predator and who is the victim? ~ Xtac Quote

If you ever hear a bad story about me understand that there was a time I was good to those people too, but they wont tell you that. ~ Author unknown

Related

The THREE slave areas of choice

An external slave, one who is enslaved by external forces, has no choices.  An internal slave, one who is enslaved by their own desires to engage in submission and consensual slavery, has a world of choices.. until one day.

One day that slave, having been responsible for years, and having honed his or her skills in decision making, and having protected the property that is their body, keeping it safe for the Owner who would one day take possession, finally finds and requests the gift of domination, and is scared and excited to find that Dominant has chosen to bestow that gift upon them.

On that day, when a slave enters into consideration, then training, to be a slave for the Dominant of their desire, on that day their areas of choice narrows significantly.

Some might argue, a slave makes one decision, the owner they would serve. I find that to be a simple and uncompelling concept and patently wrong… a slave does not choose the owner, that violates the very core of control.  I present to you a richer, more full look at the areas of choice a consensual slave has.. regardless of how their owner prefers to structure their TPE.


Who, What, When

Area 1)   Who gives commands – The consensual slave retains the choice of the individuals to whom they give their ultimate gift, the gift of trust. Once a choice is made, the consensual slave will make known their desire to submit, requesting the gift of Domination, mentoring, or protection. This choice may be negotiated away.

An un-owned a slave can and must judge the Dominants they would offer their trust to.  Be it for a scene, or a protector, a mentor, or a possible owner, the consensual slave must exercise their first responsibility as a slave, drawing upon all the wisdom they have so far accumulated, in the selection of who to trust.   An owned slave may relinquish their responsibility to choose wisely who they will trust, giving that responsibility to the one they serve – all the more reason to choose wisely.  An owned slave may retain this area of choice completely, if it is negotiated as part of the TPE agreement.  If a slave gives this area of choice into the control of their Dominant, the slave no longer retains the right to chose who to trust, though they may still have a voice in the process. This is the first area of choice that any consensual slave starts with.  It may be negotiated away.


Area 2)  What commands are accepted – The owned consensual slave will faithfully execute all commands of the dominant they serve but will choose wisely the manner in which they resist commands that violate their responsibilities to the property, its values, and its ethics.  This choice may not be negotiated away.

A slave will ALWAYS be responsible for the commands they accept.  You must weigh commands against your values and ethics and those that don’t measure up must not be accepted.  You should not accept harm to the property that is your body.. Pain maybe, but no lasting significant harm.  Lastly, you may retain those areas that are agreed to under the four areas of TPE negation.

The responsible Dominant will understand a slaves values and ethics are a higher priority and might even test that a slave is still acting as the final arbitrator of right choice, and right action, as defined by the slaves personal values and ethics.  A good Dominant needs to know that the core values are intact.

Many a slave has committed acts they later regretted because they failed to exercise this area of choice. This area of choice MUST be retained.  This is the second area of choice for any consensual slave.  It may not be negotiated away.


Area 3)  When to withdraw consent – A consensual slave may choose to exercise the power of withdrawing consent, knowing that any time the power of consent is exercised, may be the last time they do so as an slave of that owner. This choice is fundamental to BDSM and is impossible to remove under the concepts of consensual internalized enslavement.

Any consensual slave ethically and legally retains the right at any time to withdraw consent.  Consensual slavery is founded on the concept in internalized enslavement.  To not acknowledge this is to shift into external enslavement – enslavement enforced not by desire, but by fear and intimidation – and it is evil.

The consensual slave can not control what commands they will be given or when.  They have submitted their body and mind into the will of another and given the ultimate gift of a slave, complete trust that this submission will be used honorably, in accordance with the four areas of TPE negotiation, and within the slaves core beliefs, values and ethics.

If an owner violates that trust, repeatedly and without repentance, it is encumbrance upon the consensual slave to exercise good decision making and withdraw consent.  The owner may in return choose to remove his or her collar.  These are decisions not to be taken lightly, but the right to withdraw consent is always present, always an option. Both slave and Owner would do well to remember this.   This the third area of choice for any consensual slave.  It exists always, in every minute of submission, even if that submission lasts a lifetime.


Being the arrogant pompous ass that I am, I like to think that this is a much better approach than the simple.. you are a slave.. you do everything I say thing.  Call it my version of best practices if you like.  Reality dictates that is this is just my opinion, but being a Dominant, I naturally think that I am brilliant and therefore this must be spot on. I am pleased with this final draft.

 

Related

 

Does your humility interfere with your slavery?

I like a shy slave.  A “we’re not worthy” kind of slave.  I feel like those slaves really understand my gift of Dominance…  But then reality sets in…

I can’t tell you the number of times a slave has said something like: “I don’t know if I am good enough..”   My response is.. “What?!!! Do you think I would pick out garbage to give my gift to?  Do you think I don’t know what I want?  Are you trying to tell me what I like?”  Those kinds of questions will usually have such a slave stammering almost immediately, and retreating even further into the comfort of their shy retreat.  Here comes the social sadist side..wait for it.. Not that once engaged I would allow a retreat!

I sat with a Dominant one night who was on a rant about slaves who would quit rather than try.  Submission wasn’t enough. He had to have something more.  I wasn’t on the same page with him.  Again, I thought, I like those shy kinds of slaves who seem to want to drop to their knees and wail.. I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy..

I might be coming around to his thinking though.  If you are a slave and you like being in the shadow of a strong public Master, that can be a wonderful thing.  But regardless of being owned or not owned, there is a downside to shyness and humility. I have always known that this needed attention but now I am starting to think it is something to take much more seriously into consideration.


The problem with humility and shyness is two fold. 

First, when you have an abundance of shyness and humility before you are owned, you may make decisions for a Dominant that they don’t want you to make for them.  Like to not approach them with the offer of your trust.   You may feel unworthy, leading you to undervalue yourself.  It’s easy to do and all too common among people who really, really need submission to be free.

Second, when you have an abundance of shyness and humility after you are owned, this may get in the way of a direct command.  You may feel that everything you do for Master must be perfect, so that others know what a good owner he or she is, and how obedient and faithful you are.  Now in the course of these fears you may over think, over research, over do a task.  Or you may even balk at the task for fear that it is beyond you.

So the question becomes, how do you over come these limitations?  The answers are many, though only some may work for you.


Overcoming the limitation of humility and shyness

Your value is measured by what you bring to a relation, not by the relation itself. 

Never forget that with or without an owner, you are a slave.  A slave is property and every property has value.  Your value isn’t in your willingness to comply, or your level of submission, though these are important.  Your value lies in your honesty, and your decision making.  Your Dominant will determine if your submission fits.  Honesty is absolutely critical to the slave’s gift of..trust.  Can you be honest?  Can you use that honesty to make a real decision?  Then you have value.  NEVER forget it.

Note: This bears repeating.  Submission is not a gift and ultimate submission is not the ultimate gift.  The slaves ultimate gift is trust. When trust is coupled with honesty, you can find someone truly compatible and that makes your level of submission work.  Trust, honesty, consent.. they work together.

An offer of Domination means someone sees your value

It doesn’t matter if its a scene for one night, or a collar of consideration, when a Dominant offers the gift of their Domination, it is not your place to question their decision. You may accept or reject the offer but the fact they did offer, means that they see potential in you.  If you accept, THEY will decide if you are the right slave for them.  You have been given two great gifts..validation of your value.. and you have been given the chance to lighten your burdens, to place all of your worries into the hands of one who will handle your worries for you.

NOTE: You might want to know what they see in you.  Hopefully its not just an easy piece of ass.  That is not how it should work, and that is NOT a sign of valuing you.

Worries are not yours

If you accept the gift of Domination, your worries.. should be stricken from your vocabulary. THEY ARE NOT YOURS!  A dominant should above all be making decisions and the most important decisions they can make are the ones that lighten your load.  What is the point of giving your ultimate gift..trust.. if it isn’t used.  Give completely of yourself.  Allow yourself to FEEL the trust you have given.  Trust that you can speak of your fears, concerns, and worries. Let your Dominant help shoulder them.  Of course a Dominant may also add to your worries, pushing you to achieve more. Again trust your Dominant to do the right thing.

Punishments are not yours

When you have an abundance of humility, you will often feel that your work isn’t good enough. You will want to punish yourself for screw ups.  You might keep playing that last screw up over and over in your mind.  You should not be allowed to do that. I wouldn’t allow it. 

Just as all worries should go to the Dominant, punishments are the property of the Dominant as well. The Dominant will forgive, or choose the punishment. They will choose how quickly to provide punishment.  They will provide the relief of knowing the punishment is over.  They should not want you beating yourself up. We Dominants want our slaves to be happy and you can’t be if you are beating yourself up.  Don’t do it.

Decisions are not yours

Well, not all decisions belong to the Dominant. Studies show that moral fiber degrades when all authority is removed.  A slave will ALWAYS be responsible for the commands they accept.  You must weigh commands against your values and ethics and those that don’t measure up must not be accepted.  You should not accept harm to the property that is your body.. Pain maybe, but no lasting significant harm.  Lastly, you may retain those areas that are agreed to under the four areas of TPE negation.

That being said all other decisions belong to the owner..  Even a submissive who is not owned, but has an abundance of humility and shyness, should question if the decisions you make are being made FOR ONE PERSON OR TWO?  Be honest. Ask yourself, am I deciding for me only, or does my decision maybe interfere with the wishes of the one I serve?  If it interferes, that becomes a worry and worry should be discussed.  So discuss it.. easy peasy.

Your worthiness to serve is not your decision

Here is what I as a Master want to hear when I give an order and you feel you are not worthy:    “Yes Master – this slave will try to be worthy of its Master’s trust and praise.

That answer tells me that you understand that I make the decisions. It tells me that you will try to obey to the best of your ability.  It tells me you have doubts in your ability but you will trust in my judgemenvt.

How good is good enough for a Dominant?

This answer comes to us from Vile – A good Master knows his slave’s limits and would never give a task knowing there would be failure.  This is what I expect from you. I expect you to do the best you can do. If this is done you have pleased me.  See his blog here.


It is not easy always easy to slide into these mindsets.  It may take years of service to a Master to get to the point where this all happens without thought. But a successful Dominant will keep working at, creating a place of deeper submission and trust.

To create the mindset of Master and slave, we must have the two key ingredients..

  • The gift of a slave’s trust
  • The gift of a Master’s Domination

The slave mindset needs to be centered around trust that the power given, will be used wisely, for the betterment of both. The Dominant, to create that condition must use the power that is exchanged in constructive ways.   The slave trusts that this is so.  A slave is not weak.  It takes great strength to overcome humility, shyness, fear, and other factors until you can finally to trust another so completely that you will give up substantial power in exchange for the gift of Domination.

Many a slave is strong of will, but the successful Dominant is stronger.  Like an irresistible force meeting an unmovable object, the successful Dominant applies his or her will without anger. They apply their will with love and patience; an irresistible force brought to bear upon the slave until they mold comfortably, happily, to the will of the Master.

It’s a great day to be alive.. Go be someone’s great day… Carpe diem my friends!

 


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