Discipline vs Punishment

November 27th, in brutal cold that froze guns and men alike,  120,000 Chinese troops began an offensive to kill 30,000 men that were part of the United Nations troops in the Chosin reservoir area.  The year was 1950.  The country was Korea.

American solders who had fought in World war II had seen their fair share of brutal conditions.  Now they faced a seemingly hopeless battle as the Chinese sought to encircle and kill them to the last man.

If the Chinese didn’t kill these men than the cold surely would.  The cold turned gun grease to jell, receivers jammed, guns didn’t fire, batteries failed, vehicles stopped working, artillery froze, in short, the men would fight the elements and their equipment as much as they would fight the enemy.  In the battles that followed there were many acts of bravery but somehow against overwhelming odds these men would inflict crippling losses on the Chinese while retreating under heavy fire. A lesson here is that retreat and a temporary loss can be part of a larger strategy that turns the final outcome.

What makes some men run into danger when others would run away?  Why would a man stand up in the middle of a hail of bullets so that mortar rounds can get a proper bead on the enemy?  What makes a man run through a killing field to his wounded comrades and bring them to safety?

Military training certainly is part of this.  It transforms teenagers into soldiers.  Certainly there is the sense in trust between men that fight side by side.  But that training also instills in them something they may not have had before: discipline.

When you think of the word Discipline, don’t think of punishment.  Think of the athlete who does one more lap around the track even though their  body is begging to stop.  Think of smoker who fights every day the urge to smoke and yet does not.  Think of the soldiers who faced fear and death but still moved forward.  Discipline is what makes us get the job done, its what makes us get up the next day, it makes us complete the task we would rather not, and keeps us from procrastinating.

When you think of BDSM and you think of Discipline, don’t think of paddles or spanking.  Think of the boring things that are expected to be completed, the things you might not have done if were not for discipline. Discipline is what keeps excuses at bay, it ensures that every inspection goes smoothly, it means that there will be no lapse in the protocol, rules, or structure of the house.  It means the rule of your law is a constant, never wavering absolute that can be depended upon.

You know what punishment is. Punishment might be used to create discipline, but don’t think of the two as one. True, they are related, but they are very different things.

You may be punished for a lack of discipline. But if you HAVE discipline, you won’t need to be punished. What is confusing is that sometimes punishment for a lack of discipline is referred to as “being disciplined”.  If you are being “disciplined” it doesn’t mean you are punished, it means that this quality that keeps you on track is being instilled in you.  Punishment is just one way of creating disciplined people.

To keep it easy to remember, just remember the discipline of an athlete, or the discipline of a soldier.  The internal fortitude they show is discipline.  You WANT to acquire discipline.  Something to keep in mind is that we who would be Masters must discipline ourselves before we can hope to teach discipline to another. If you would be a good Master, try to eliminate procrastination, and build your self discipline.

Carpe Diem my friends.. Now show some discipline, get going, get out there, and be someone’s great day!

MY Master

One thing you will never hear Izrina say is:  My Master is awesome!  He’s just the best Master ever!  She is never going to ever say that.

It’s not that I am not amazing and awesome.. I am.  It’s just that she doesn’t use the word “my” very often.  She might say,  The Master I serve is awesome!  He’s the best Master ever!

It may sound weird, this addiction I have for words.  Understand that this is a thing that runs deeper than just playing with how we say a thing.  It cuts to the core of something she can never think.  She can not think that I am her’s.  She can not think that she has some leverage over me.  She can have no expectation of control over my wants or desires. I am not hers on any level.  Even my Domination is not hers.. it is MY gift, to her.

She is MY property.  She is there to serve and please me. If I stay late at a Dungeon as I often do, and she needs sleep because she must rise early to be at the barn, I might send her to the car to nap.  I get chatting, and I love being in the center stage, so it can become hard to leave.  I see her need for sleep though, and her need comes before what I want.  IF I can manage both her need and my wants, I will.  If you have not heard this before, these are the priorities of Ds in order

  1. The needs of the slave
  2. The needs of the Master
  3. The wants of the Master
  4. The wants of the slave

And what happens when a slave doesn’t like another slave and thinks that slave is cutting in on her territory?   Let’s examine that question, shall we?   Starting with “her territory”.  I don’t have to go any further do I?   You can see already where I would go with this.  IF there is no.. “MY Master”, then there is no “my territory”.  Izrina has jokingly said she’ll scratch the eyes out of any bitch who tries to cut in on the Master she serves, but she knows better than to say that in a serious tone.  It amuses me.. as a joke..

I have a “thing” for playing with Raven Pup.  It happened at the North East Power Exchange Competitions.   Raven and I had a wonderful scene and the scene that Izrina was promised didn’t happen.  There was drama afterward.  It wasn’t jealousy per se.   I won’t go into it but I am sure you can imagine where I stood on this.

Izrina gets it. She knows its my pleasure first.   She knows that I am “the Master she serves”..   She would never dream of saying “My Master”…. hmmmm unless her SAM side broke out and she was looking for a beating (SAM = Smart Ass Masochist).   Izrina is sisters with Raven.  We talk from time to time about how she feels about Raven in my life.   On the surface there appears to be no issues, but there is something else we must always be aware of.

A sidebar story about Izrina being a SAM:  On one evening Izrina was giving me a little lip as she sometimes does when her SAM side breaks out.  So I was all Dominant and having heard just about enough lip from her, I demanded in my most Dommly Dom voice..”Get your ass in the car now!”  So she did… she turned around bent over and just stuck her ass in the car door.  HA ha!  I am fairly sure that every time she bounced in the saddle of her horse for the next week, she went.. chuckle..ow…chuckle.. ow!  Bruises are a lovely way to remember the one you love!

When you DO find someone special and your life is freaking wonderful when you are with them, you can develop a fear of losing them.  We know that living a life in the shadow of fear is self destructive but we often do it anyway.  Fear has a way of creeping in, of convincing us that we are fools if we do not nurse fear.  Fear is the dark whisper that calls you to the shadows and you know you should not go, but you sometimes do anyway.

The idea of love being limited and a commodity to be fiercely guarded is a concept that I don’t understand. ~ Slave_Shylah

When we live without fear, when we allow ourselves to love someone more than we need them, when we act as conduits for the endless love that can pour through us…  then and only then can we an live up to this quote.  It is easier to say than to do but it is also worth fighting to achieve.  It starts with knowing that the person you are with truly loves you, that they will place no other above you, and that they are worthy of the trust you place in them.

Carpe Diem my friends.. Go be someone’s great day!

It IS about the pussy

I hope Vile, a blogger I respect and appreciate.. has a sense of humor about this. He has put out a number of pieces now in which he states firmly. .It is not about the pussy.. 

I was completing an interview with him and one question was about being a Bedroom Dominant, and I stated for the record that sex is not what I am about.  But I felt like I had to justify my answer, like there was something wrong with that.  You DO need to justify yourself if sex isn’t your main drive.  People honestly don’t understand.  In quite a few ways it IS about the pussy.  I’ve been thinking about that.

It bothered me. I did my thing.. where I hold a question for a while.. I taste it, I put it on, I wear it for a while,  I turn it inside out and try it on again, I mulled that question over and over until it was  rags and somewhere along the line my muse came to me and said.. What the hell are you doing?  You already know the answers.  You just have to trust that you know it and trust that your ethics and heart will guide you well. 

Right!  You know what?  There is nothing wrong with BDSM not being about the pussy.. but then there is also everything wrong with it.  A friend and Master was approached by a slave who wanted to serve him.. So he agreed to a trial and invited her to his house.  She was excited.  He had her clean his house.  Now she was less excited. The experience made her more reflective about serving this Master.. see?  Sometimes it IS about the pussy..

I suspect that is exactly why he had her clean his house.  Not to be a prick, or because he needed that but because he was testing her.. to see if for her, it WAS about the pussy and the beatings.  Brilliant really, you should make a note of that idea.  Most guys WOULD crawl on broken glass to get some ànd some slaves will walk out if service isn’t sexual.

Its not just the Dominate who can fixate on sex.  If a Master isn’t taking possession of your body to use it, and maybe abuse it, ask yourself: Do you feel a little less like a slave who is desired?  We all need to feel valued.  So ask yourself:  Would slavery get a bit old if sex was not part of your submission?

When a Dominant expresses desire for you by taking hold of your ass, whispering an earthy “mine”, doesn’t that feel wonderful?   For some people there is something about the feeling of taking.. and being taken.. that incredible passion that strips bare all of our humanity and leaves us as exhausted puddles of satisfied flesh.  If your answer is:  Oh God yes!  then the honest answer is that yes sex IS important and it needs to be acknowledged.  Many slaves who aren’t getting pounded aren’t going to stick around.  I know I don’t have that problem with Izrina.  She is well tested.

Orgasm denial can be about torture, control, AND testing.  At the end of the day though, there has to be some release.  Sex is a requirement for nearly everyone.  Orgasms are a healthy need.

Both Dominants and slaves have to ask themselves if sex is the most important part of their desire.  You need to know.. You have to question and ask.. Do you care more about a good beating than anything else?  Is the most satisfying reason for all this submission is between your legs?  It works both ways. What is your hierarchy of needs?

Its true –  When sex is good it’s only 10 percent of a relation and when its bad its 90%.

When you ain’t getting some, sometimes its all you can think about. You know its true.  It’s all around you .  People who are so fucking desperate to get some really satisfying sweaty sex, they would do almost anything.  It becomes an obsession.  But its like Maslow’s Hierarchy Of Needs.   Once you have fulfilled your greatest need, you move on to the next.  It’s why I created Xtac’s hierarchy of needs.  Even though I pkace sex on the same level as control and beatings, sometimes sex  is all I can think about.

Look..there is nothing wrong with sex being a huge part of BDSM.  Especially if you are young and full of cum.  Or an old horner fucker.. Hell, forget age..  The “little death” is an “out of body” experience that is addictive. We all know this.  You don’t need me to tell you that.  But you do need to think about where it fits in your personal hierarchy of needs.  You need to have a discussion about that and its needs to be an honest one.

The Dom who starts your training by having you wear no panties might be into making you feel vulnerable to his control. That could be a good sign.  But the Dom who’s first training involves learning to suck cock his way has revealed a fateful flaw.  His personal hierarchy of needs is out of whack.  Consent, trust, negotiation, and control all come first.

I actually agree with Vile that “It’s not about the pussy.   I have no problem ordering Izrina to do her daily chores because I know as a Master it is my sacred duty to provide that sense of control and Domination that rounds out the experience.  So its off to the kitchen for her.. in a skimpy little number.. red silk tonight…  hmmm why is she so fucking hot when she is being all domestic?  What IS it about secretaries and domestic help that is so fucking hot?

hmmm  why are those curves under silk so mesmerizing? – as she bends to clean the silk hikes up, revealing that lovely line between ass and thigh…  sigh.. and what lies between…   mine for the taking..  I need only command…  mmmm… slipper silk sliding over butt cheeks…  hmm slippery is a word I can get behind..  A Master should never deny himself the pleasure of taking what is his…. Right?   There is that dilemma again. Lord give me strength!  Sometimes it’s just so hard (pun intended). Come on! (Opps! Puny again)...surely you can see that sometimes  it IS all about the pussy!

Carpe Diem my friends.. Go be someone’s geat day.

 

 

White is the color of darkness

It snowed.. and snowed.. and snowed.. We had white out.  For a while we were getting three inches an hour.  I’m glad for Izrina’s safety, she got to the ranch after picking up some clothes and then slept there last night.  I really hate when this happens.

In the morning, I  got to work myself, but it was at just a little over half my my normal speed..  I am surprised they didn’t close the local interstates..  They were pretty slippery.  I had the whole building to myself… no one else showed up for work…. hmm,  until quite late when some of the evening crew showed up.

I don’t like when she stays at the ranch…I hate it.. but I allow it.  I hate the idea of her driving in terrible weather even more.   This is the second time this year that white powder has darkened my life by stealing my slave…. Freakin snow!

Have I mentioned in an earlier blog, that home is divided into five sections… one for each day of the week.  She is to pickup, clean, and dust each section on its appointed day.. and then I inspect it afterward.  That way it never gets too far behind.  I like schedules and plans.  Today was the kitchen area.  So when she got home.. finally….  I was torn between keeping to the schedule, and making up for the time I lost to the snow.. but I did the right thing..

Have you ever been on an exercise program or diet and one day you break it… just for that one day?.. and then the second day you are like  I’ll restart tomorrow?   Sometimes you put things off so long its hard to start again.  The thing is, you absolutely must stick to these things or procrastination takes over..  So when I said I did the right thing, what I meant was that even though I really really wanted to make up for time the snow stole from me, I shoved that in a box, let her finish her tasks, and then did my inspection.  If I didn’t and the schedule started to lapse, I would have no one but myself to blame.   Freakin snow!

The rest of the evening was lovely.. I am thinking ahead now to Valentines day.. The girl does love her chocolate.. Oh.. and then I shoveled some more before bed… Freakin snow!

Manipulation and inspiration

Leaders inspire people to follow them.  Leaders have followers. That’s it, nothing more.  A leader doesn’t need a title or the gravity of authority to get people to follow them.  They can be high on the chain of command or low.  Often a leader IS someone lower in rank, a person working for someone in charge, but because that person is a leader, people follow, they do, for the leader.  It happens in the military and business, its a thing that at first blush may seem hard to pin down, but its really not as complicated as you might think.

There are only two ways to motivate people.. manipulation and inspiration.  If you want to be a leader, speak last, listen, compliment people, give credit for contribution and great ideas.  Hording all the credit for yourself doesn’t inspire people, but being selfless as you bring together all of the talents in a room. THAT inspires people.  They feel like they contributed to something that had meaning, that they achieved something on a personal level, because of the way the leader made them feel about their contribution.  We all want to feel like we accomplished something.  How many days did you work all day and feel like you accomplished nothing?   That sucks, right?

I am inspired.  Work has been satisfying.. because I lead, and because MY leaders recognized that, they left me with the feeling that my leadership, had value.  Even leaders need to feel inspired.  We all prefer inspiration over manipulation.  Life has been crazy busy but satisfying.. Its not how hard you work, its how satisfied you are afterward.


We are supposed to get between six and ten inches of snow over the next twenty four hours..  Damn… that’s a lot of snow.  I am not looking forward to shoveling that.  Izrina slept at the ranch again because of it.  I hate when that happens.  Time to put on a happy face and make the best of it.  I feel like an actor..  What’s my motivation?


And what does this have to do with BDSM?  Everything.  A slave is like the worker who needs a leader..so the Dominant must inspire.. they must craft their language and project a sense that what the slave does has meaning..  And the slave needs to do that same.. a slave needs to craft their language and project a sense that what the Dominant does has meaning.  Izrina often says.. A pleasure to serve.  I made myself some crackers and cream cheese tonight as Izrina soaked in the tub after a long day at work..  I thought about it for a moment, then brought her a small plate.  Hers had strawberry.. mine had jalapeno.  She smiled..I couldn’t use her line.. it just didn’t fit.  What was it I said?  Ah Yes, it was: A pleasure to bring happiness, to the one who serves.  Hey!  I’m a Master.. I can do whatever the hell I want to do!

A Cane, and its pain, can heal

Somewhere between a diary.. and a workshop, lies this blog..

Saturday night was fire play, and afterward a person whose opinion I value said:  I don’t want this to sound like an insult, so how can I say this.. Your play tonight seemed less sadistic.

Now if you read my accounting and are not into flying or a pain slut, you were probably thinking that my description sounded pretty darn sadist to you… So now you have to be wondering, just how freaking sadist were you in the past MasterX?


Evilution, again

I’ve seen it time and time again.  The evilution of a slave and Dominant.  As much as the Master and slave relation seems fixed, as much as seems fairly simple, nearly every relationship I’ve known has gone through transitions.

Sometimes its on the Dominant side.  A sadist becomes more sadistic or less.  An owner becomes more controlling or less.  Sometimes its on the slave side.  Sometimes there is a desire to dive deeper into submission or masochism.. or sometimes the opposite is true.

How many times have you heard the reason for a divorce was, “We just grew apart”.  People take separate paths sometimes and when they do, they tend to grow farther and farther apart.

It’s no one’s fault when your desire takes you in a new direction, nor should we necessarily sacrifice a new understanding of who we want to be, just because it diverges from a road you mapped out with another.

The marriage vow of “until death do you part” has its value.  If you entered into a heterosexual marriage, knowing full well that you are gay, you entered into that marriage as a lie.  All of your promises for a future that would be mapped out together were based on a premise that never existed.  That is an extreme case but it makes my point.  To a lesser degree, there are other examples like this.  If you knew in your heart when you took your vow, that there was something fundamentally flawed right from the start, but you hoped it would work out, then the fault is on you, but also the responsibility to set it right.

In a similar way, we often enter into BDSM relations not fully comprehending the commitment we are making or the degree to which we will need to fight to hold onto that promise.


The cane, its healing power,

The cane is another vicious tool of sadism.  It is easier to control than a whip, but the damage it can do in the hands of an inexperienced person is terrifying.  Never, and I mean truly never, use a full swing with a cane until you know what it can do.

That being said, research in Russian suggests that caning can help some people overcome all sorts of issues – from depression, addiction and weight-loss through to guilt that needs to be exorcised!

Here is at least one person who has already started to cash in on that!


Tying it all together – Saturday, changing, the cane

I have been thinking about Saturday night.  Has my sadist side softened?  Certainly I have laid out the case for believing that everyone changes.  Yet I know that pain, like the cane, has a value, especially for people who are cutters, or have issues with depression.

I have a growing conviction that is reshaping my thinking.  First, I don’t think my sadism has diminished.  Let’s dispense with that right off the bat.  But I do think the Sadist and Master alike go through an adjustment period.

Just as we become more comfortable with our level of sadism over time, as we grow to better understand what it is we achieve with it, so too our level of comfort with pushing the envelope of consent in the Master/slave relation grows more comfortable as we better understand what we can achieve with it.

What I am saying is, while my sadism hasn’t diminished, my level of comfort with what I do with the control of Izrina has grown.  Its another level for me.

I had a talk about this very subject on Saturday with another person, and essentially, I realized that my three areas of slave choice, are really no different from the classic one choice.   The first for the larger measure really only exists for an un-owned slave, and the third is the nuclear option.  Like the cold era policy of MAD ( mutually assured destruction), the third area of a slave choice is so radical, it may never be exercised.  I realize that for all my rationalization, a TPE really is as all encompassing as it sounds.

I still like my three choices better.  The third choice of a slave needs to stand out in our minds, as the nuclear option that we pray is never used  It should be a caution to both Master and slave, the gravity of the mutual destruction that might occur should it be exercised.  It also serves as a notice of just how serious this role of Master becomes.. when an owner grows into the shoes they promised to fill.

Respecting diversity ( a rant from my muse )

Respect for diversity is good, its even better as respect for diversity of thought.  ~ X Quote

If you have followed me from the beginning, somewhere I MUST have pointed out that I believe it is my parental duty to teach only two things to teach my daughter.  The second lesson is how to make good decisions.  In a nutshell, one of the principles of making good decisions is to not get your advice from an echo chamber.  The council you seek is important.  How you weigh that council is important.  You need advice from your friends, AND your enemies.  Diversity of thought is not just good behavior, its a brilliant principle of living a life guided by wisdom.

Let me say this in simple words…  Being sensitive to some people does not give you the right to be insensitive to others..  We call that being a jerk!  It seems that somewhere down the road of instilling respect for diversity, a moral high ground of opinions was established and any thought contrary to the selected line of thinking, was considered fair game for disrespect.

Now while the word “moral” is still fresh, I need to go off on this tangent.  I don’t believe in morals.  I believe in ethics.  Moral behavior tends to be more about proper behavior but ethical behavior seeks equity  as judged within the context and values of the parties involved.  Read my lips..  “moral anything” is bullshit!  Go fling your cow patties someplace else.

I am not a fan of hatred either.  Even of people that “deserve” to be hated.  You have to understand that hate is a poison and a disease.  It hurts the one who holds it and if a person is not cured of their hatred, eventually hatred will kill its host.  Step one is to free yourself from moral superiority.  Then any other sense of superiority.  The right path is a healthy dose of humility and respect for diversity.

One question I wish I could answer is:  When did it become OK, to hate people that “deserve” it?  I think it was so slow a process, we never noticed it happen. Like the infamous frog in the slowly boiling water, we were just too stupid to see it or jump out of the freaking pot.

The war of the sexes was when I first started to notice.  Maybe ten years ago, many a commercial made fun of men. It was part of the process of marketing to women..Hey! Its a huge market, so its OK, right?  But who decided that hating on men endeared the average woman to your products?   Blonde jokes and men who don’t stop for directions..  We pick at each other and don’t give it any thought at all to it.  Racial, religious, aging, fat people, rude people, where do we not feed a secret prejudiced?  And who the hell gets to decide the criteria that makes a person fair game for hatred?  Does anyone not see the foolishness of these thoughts?  Some days I just want to yell… let me off.  The diatribe is just so venomous.

And when the hell did we start thinking that giving respect was somehow weak or foolish?   You must give respect because of who you are, not because of who you are giving it to.  Respect can be lost though, and what do you do then?  You cut that influence out of your life.  When you see dishonesty and hatred, distance yourself from it but do it with a carefree heart.

Or.. and this is a really big but..you can get into the face of really serious oppressors and demonstrate your capacity for love and patience.  But that is a dangerous game.  There are some very dangerous dangers haters and suppressors in the world and it is right to be careful and cautious.   Some places are more dangerous than others. We sometimes forget that our values are not universal.  You can’t judge what others will do, based on what you think everyone should do.

Keep in mind that if  you are free to protest where you are with relative safety, than you are already in a pretty good place. Its the places you are not safe to protest, that need the most work.  That is so logical it almost shouldn’t need to be said.

I wouldn’t recommend for example, that women stage a peaceful protest in a country steeped in Sharia Law.  But… if you really want to fight oppression, shouldn’t you do it where oppression lives?  Wouldn’t it warm your heart to see a little girl power in a Sharia Law country?  I mean if it didn’t turn into a stoning and blood bath, it would be nice.  If my reference to Sharia Law makes you think I am picking on Muslims not so.  I dislike oppression and hatred from anyone.

I Googled places not safe for women to travel alone. Would you believe that India and Mexico were both very high on the list of places where women that travel alone get raped?   Look these are just statistics..I am not putting emotion into it.  I would love to see real hatred faced with peaceful protests in places that really suppress freedom. Take Russia’s open hostility to gays.  Now there is a place to go and peacefully protest, if you want to really want to stare down oppression of LGBT rights. 

It takes real courage and commitment to go into a lions den and face down haters without giving in to hate yourself.  Most people are better suited to just distance themselves from it, and even then they have a hard time doing so with a light heart.  If you can face hatred with love, bravo!   Its a rare individual who can walk away from hatred without wearing some, even more rare to face it boldly with love.

And what if you are the person who hates the haters?  Whatever your twisted logic, then you are part of the problem. Round and round it goes.  Hatred and more hatred.  You have to be the person who stops it.  Each person who just says no to hate, who’s message of tolerance and love comes through clear in their protest,  is another finger in the dam.  If you can not protest with love in your heart, don’t fucking do it.

If you value respect, and diversity, and honesty, that does not mean that you must give bullets to your enemy.  Freedom sometimes gets deadly serous. The refugee crisis is proof that more people choose to distance themselves than fight back.  Anyone can choose to resist being pulled in, resist interacting with them.

It may help to let yourself see the sad pathetic, hate diseased person they are.  You may need to see this first, before you can send love and pity their way.. from a distance of course.. because they probably won’t understand and possibly hate you even more.

In stark reality, if a person wants to kill or convert you, you have three choices.. kill them first, or convert them first, or distance yourself.  If you are backed into a corner though, then it is self defense time and all rules of ethical behavior are off.

It’s strange that to protect ourselves from that which we do not believe in, we must sometimes adopt the methods of the very people we disagree with.  Life is really fucking strange at times.  I wish we lived in a world where more people embraced diversity and love.  Strangely, this forum, the internet, has that capacity to make the world one large melting pot, to bring us all closer together..

Why this subject, and why now?  When I started writing I haven’t a clue.   Something told me I should have this rant so I did.  It seemed to align somewhat with recent news but not on either side of the political coin.  I believe in serendipity.  Things happen for a reason.  Somewhere, somehow, this rant makes sense.. I just don’t know why yet.. and maybe I never will.. But I trust that things have a way of happening when they should, even if we don’t understand the bigger picture.  So I listened to my muse.   Wow.. got all metaphysical on you.. sorry.. I’m done with the sharp words.. If you need me, I’ll be the one in the corner playing with knives instead. I’m complex like that.  Carpe Diem my friends..  Go 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 North East Power Exchange competitions

So.. what is this North East Power Exchange competition I’ve been prattling on about, you may well wonder. Let me walk you through our experience, to give you an over my shoulder view.


Friday – It was Friday night and Izrina and I stepped out dressed in our blackest black.  Our rendezvous was to be a super secret hotel.  Secret because there are people who hate us for what we are.  So we slunk in to the night, to a place only revealed persons that had ponied up the fifty dollar donation.  True, my money clip let our a loud squeal, but I stroked it and assured it this was a good cause.. Its more of a donation, than a purchase…

We arrived at the hotel, and while it wasn’t new and shiny, it was one whose chain names you would recognize… I’d tell you the name, but these are very real dangers that people enter into when they practice or support BDSM.  Thank God we found a business owner brave enough to allow this event.

The lobby was nice and oh so bright.. The man at the desk insisted on calling our friends room rather than let us just walk up… good call.. I am after all a social sadist and that makes me a terrorist, I am pretty sure.

Just a short walk away was a bar with card table set up to collect cover charges.. and a DJ and beyond.. a large dance floor that you just know has had one too many drinks spilled on it.  I was stoked because I love to dance, but first it was up to our friends room. Izrina wanted a boot blacking fresher from a sister slave who is quite the accomplished boot black.

I couldn’t leave the room cause the girls had my boots, so I futzed around in my socks until they were done.Izrina presented the boots, kneeling in slave fashion and I carefully examined the work… then held her face.. and asked her.. tomorrow when you do this. who do you need to please?.. You Master she said.. Exactly I answered.. don’t forget it.  I gave a look a Wednesday, and tried to judge her reaction to my speech.. I think she was sort of embarrassed by the intimacy but also pleased to see my care for Izrina.

They turned to my vest, and I headed to the bar feeling quite naked without my leather.  I thought the girls deserved it, so I brought back a drink for each, and a tip for the jar.  Back again to the bar for hugs.. Shortly I was reunited with my slave and my very missed leather.. oh.. I missed her too.. don’t start with me.

So the evening unfolded with laughter and stories punctuated by a dance here and there, which of course that lead to that hand full of hair blog you may have already read.  It felt a bit like the 80’s all over again.. the alcohol, the dance music, the hotel dance floor which always looks great in the dim lights, but when the lights come on to chase you out, suddenly looks terrible even with a good buzz on.

Speaking of which, I let Izrina indulge and she did.  Later she wished she had not.. If you’ve been there, you know what I mean.  Somebody find the bastard spinning the room and tell him I’d like to get off!  OK, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but definitely impaired.

We were not staying in the hotel since home was only 30 minutes away, so we excused ourselves early and got some rest.  I started early the next morning, and we back at the Hotel again by 10am.


 

Saturday Morning – The hotel was abuzz with odd looking people.. Crow with his super long flowing black robes that always makes him look like a magician from some alternate medieval universe.  Nearly everyone coming and going wore black.  A family dressed in bright colors, a dad, mom, and three daughters walked out to their car with luggage and didn’t seem to notice how they stuck out in this crowd… Perhaps they were just too preoccupied with getting on the road.. or maybe Dad said before hand.. now don’t make eye contact.. who knows.  I think aside from the hotel staff, they were the first and last nilla I saw until the bar opened again later that evening.  I remember walking by the folks waiting to get into the bar in my leather and black, and getting a very big “come hither” look with a dazzling smile from a pretty young thing. The power of projection.. its an amazing thing…

The room we wanted was behind a door with a conference room name..I don’t remember what.. doesn’t matter.. They are all have names like presidents or precious gems or precious metals.. the diamond room, or the Lincoln room typically..  So we opened the door and the organizers had put up a curtain, so you couldn’t see inside when the door was open.  Good call!.  Behind curtain number one stood Crow in all his might security, and behind him the door greeters waited with very cool badges.

The badges were all emblazoned with the cool logo you see on the NPE site.  Izrina as a bootblack got  a longer rectangular one in a plastic jacket she could clip somewhere.. I resisted the urge to grab her shirt and clip it on her nipples.  Mine as a judge was the same size.  Both had our names.. though Izrina’s was spelled wrong.. Izarina it said.. by the time I thought to suggest she correct the offending extra letter, she already had.

On the table were schedules, shiny and glossy, and square shaped pins for regular guests.  We were early and some vendors were just setting up.  Paddles and floggers and such being set out on display tables.

A gentleman who had brought a LOT of fun stuff showed up in a pickup truck and a group of us proceeded carry an odd array of wooden pieces into our private little room to be assembled. The desk staff watched as a line of workers in black paraded in single file back and forth through the lobby, much like a group of busy ants.  The staff said nothing as we shut the conference room doors again  and turned to the project at hand. In short order there were a number padded spanking benches, a suspension bar, and a couple of Saint Andrews crosses adorning our room.  NOW were were getting somewhere.

Red bracelets??? – Guests began to check in and we mingled between workshops.. Izrina did a few boots.. people filed off to workshops.  Crow took me to one side and asked as a volunteer to keep an eye out for people without badges.  Oddly –  right after that I did spot a couple like that and I politely asked them about it.  They showed me red wrist bands.. so I went back to Crow and said.. you didn’t tell me about the red wrist bands.. Ooops.. Later I met them again, and they were happy and understood the security was there to protect their privacy.. so we dodged that bullet.


 

Lunch!!! Feed me Seymour! – Soon it was lunch time.  Amazingly, the hotel which did have bar food, and didn’t take advantage of this opportunity to makes some extra cash, so at lunch break, we found our way to the various other food offerings, some in easy walking distance. Izrina and I had Philly chicken cheese steak..and though they tended to fall apart before you could get them into your mouth, what did arrive there was delicious.  Gotta have her make those at home sometime.


 

Workshops! – We wanted to catch one workshop in particular, on protocols.  Since protocols are near and dear to us both, I was really looking forward to that one.  So I pulled Izrina out of boot blacking and we went together. While I enjoyed it quite a bit, I am well, you know, pretty forceful in what I believe.  Our presenter however was almost apologetic.. in her effort to stress that you do what works for you.  Call me crazy, but I like a person who can shake my hand, tell me to fuck off, and then shake my hand again. There was one point where I told Izrina to write something down that she said…

What bugged me most though was stupid.  I sat behind the freaking table in front.. What was I thinking?  I couldn’t put Izrina at my feet if we were behind the table!  Afterward, I sat and spoke with Professor Kitty who gave the class, and we talked about Rules, and Rituals and protocols.  I have this thing I plan to put in my protocol blog I am planning and I wanted to see what she thought of it.. More of that when I get to my protocols blog..


 

Mingle time! – Now it was mingle time.  The contestants are required during the mingle period to seek out the judges, learn something about each, and generally demonstrate how they will represent our community in a crowded setting.  Its a good idea… you don’t want reps who are wall flowers. You can’t send a wall flower out to promote your cause.

One couple was standing in the center of the room, sort of looking around.. and I just knew they were newbies… So I did what the contestants were doing… I strolled up, introduced myself, and started a conversation.  Yes, they were new, yes they were interested in this stuff, no they didn’t know much about it.. until I mention flying.. which is local talk for going way, way, way into subspace..then her eyes lit up.  Oh my God she said.. it was just so wonderful, I want to do more of that!  So we talked about the bodies chemicals and how you can make that happen.

There was more like that.  Idle chit-chat, newbies, and old timers, talking about what made them come alive.  After speaking with the contestants, I strolled out to the lobby where and elderly gentleman was sipping wine and he told me that he was a writer and shared some of his stuff.. interesting..  A close friend of mine has two slaves and one is both a master chef AND a writer.. with one published book and another on the way..  Seems everyone in BDSM wants to write a book of some sort.


 

Dinner!! – Before we knew it, It was dinner time.  This time I sat Izrina and I in FRONT of the tables.. Sno gave a speech and filled time as each table took a turn at the buffet.. good food…  salads and hot biscuits and pastas and chicken and stuff like that.  it was all tasty.

While we ate, the Mistits, a stripper burlesque troop put on a show for us.. Some of the pieces were serious and some funny.  What was really funny was the very serious waiters who walked around the tables and filled water glasses as these women took their clothes off.. and shook their tits.  I don’t think any of the waiters stared.. Hats off to those guys, cause these was some mighty perty women…

Speaking of funny.. Oh my God the last bit.. Two Star Wars characters battling it out with light saber and shredding clothing.  That was pretty hot, but it ended with one in a mmmm compromised situation..  Both are woman mind you, but they both lose their light sabers and are now battling with an attached rubber phallus.  The villain is dropped to her knees, our hero grabs a handful of hair.. and.. then..wait for it… wacks the villain upside the head with her dick and runs out.  Had us all chuckling.


 

Let the competitions begin! – Our MC came out then and I and my fellow judges received our documents for the competition.  The contestants presented two things..  An educational piece followed by questions from the audience and a fantasy piece which could be choreographed anyway they liked, to any music they liked but which was meant to show without words how their dynamic worked.

We judged on things like: use of the stage, audience reaction,  appropriate costumes, appearance of comfort with questions,  etc.  Things like that.   We took notes and did our best to stay within framework of the documents.. There were guidelines for maximum point for each category.  We got one a page for each presentation, so two pages for each contestant for that portion of the competition.

After the fantasy and education portion, people filed out into the big room to play on the equipment and buy from the vendors.  I was whisked away to a room that was divided by tables. On one side the judges sat, while on the other, the contestants stood and answered questions.  This was the interview part and the third judge document.

At the end, we handed our documents over to a panel of auditors who checked and cross check the results.  They would come out in due time with an envelope that contained the winners names. While that happened, I returned to the playroom.

Now the music and our DJ had the place pumping and its time to talk about The Raith.  First, he drives a car with a license that reads.. Vampirate..  only shortened.. Half pirate, and half Vampire, he dresses the part with his bandana skull cap and his curly black locks flowing out from underneath.  Yeah, he’s hot.. He’s been working out too and his biceps are starting to look pretty good which I am fairly sure he knows cause he was sporten em in a vest with no shirt.  Oh.. and earlier I hit him up for a little jewelry project because he makes that shit too.  He also acts in a local yearly medieval festival. Sorry ladies…he has a girl…One of the mistits.. .


 

Time to play! – One of my favorite people in the world, Raven pup was playing with Sno who had her fetching things that she had laid out on the ground, and when that was done, she sent Raven under a table with the command to bark twenty times… all the time giggling and exclaiming.. good girl..what a good puppy..   There is a wonderful freedom in being able to play like like that.. sometimes Sno will just start spontaneous dancing.. I have a serious side that has a problem being that free.. but wants to be.. I need to keep working at stuffing that serious side into a box.. Oh, I have my whimsical side.. but its all calculated humor.. I miss but remember the carefree and playful side that we all had as children.  I think we loose a lot when we choose to be adults.  There must be a compromise.

So after pup finished playing, I grabbed Raven and we set up a scene on a Saint Andrews cross.  The plan was, since Izrina had to be up at 4:30, she would take a nap until around 10:30 and then get her own scene. I was planned to start in time for that.  I started Raven a little after ten.  oops again.

I had her strip down to just panties so there was all that lovely flesh to work with then lead her to the cross.  I didn’t let her have her chains though.  I pushed her into the frame and and whispered.. you’ll get your chains when your earn them.

There is this thing that happens when you do a scene in a crowded room.  People watch and if its a hot scene, people really watch.  Some Doms get off on that and play to the crowd, gauging how well they are doing.. not me.. I loathe those types.

When I am with you, I am completely with you.  The room melts away and IF I notice someone watching its like a little “other” observer taking a note.. oh..look someone is watching. and it passes..

So it was with Raven.. She could tell me the days and hours to the last time I took her. She had been counting up the time  to this moment and I assured her in a whisper to her ear, that I would take her, make her mine, and then brought my nails to her back.  Hands massaging, swatting, pinching, and a surprise bite here and there, I kept the sensation coming, until I felt she was ready for a leather massage.  The heavy flogger first, not too hard, the steady rhythm of a simple figure eight pattern..  The lighter flogger with the thinner harder straps lay idle in my other hand.  I call my two floggers sting and thunk.

I worked her harder and harder until I felt the first rung.. and shifted to the other. .  I worked sting lightly at first, again building up the force and speed of the impact, faster, harder, faster, harder and then the pause for the next level.. hands across her ass, pulling her back into my cock, she began to grind, greedy for some.. I pushed her forward into the cross and whispered..you’ve earned  your chains.  I fastened her then, placing her hands around the chains that now held her securely up.. last, I gave her a piece of metal to hold with instructions that if she should need to call red, all she had to do was drop that metal.. which of course she never did.

There is something delicious about the vulnerability of restraint, but to feel it, you have to use it.  I did.  I pulled my chopstick nipple clamps out and applied them.  I like these clamps.. when the rings are out at the ends, the pressure is very light, but as you move the rings in more, the pressure can range quite high.

She gasped.. quite nicely.. and I had yet another button to press at my command.  So it went. I shifted to Florentine,  thunk and sting hammering out a rhythm which when its spot on kind of reminds me of a steam train.  Chunka, chunka chunka..  Its comes in threes.. thunk, sting , thunk.. then reversed.. sting, thunk, sting.  Raven can take all the leather I can throw.  I threw for almost an hour, then released her chains and carried her to a chair.. well.. I started to but after I lifted her, she wrapped her legs around me to help.  When we got to the chair, we ended up cowgirl style.  A coat was thrown over her.. my bad.. I neglected to make sure we had a blanket prepared.

A side note..ANYONE I play with is required to reach out to me the next day by any means. Email, text, cell.. the  point is that I may not be able to be physically with you if there is sub drop but I can be there at the end of a message and I always encourage my partners to pour out everything they are feeling the next day.. it a  necessary and cathartic thing that I be available, even if it is only in the form of being on the receiving end of an emotional letter.

Raven was all floaty and trembling and well.. if you are a top, you know that joy of knowing that your bottom is having a good reaction and the even nicer joy of the after care trembles and other reactions.  After care can be the icing on your cake.  Did I mention I loose track of the room?  At some point, I realized Izrina should be somewhere around…. but she wasn’t.  I after cared with Raven and by the time we wrapped up, it was around 11:30.  Izrina had over slept.  So I packed our toys and headed off to the room to collect my slave.

This week she will disinfect, clean  and treat the leather we used on Raven.. speaking of which.. I am up for tips on how you do your disinfecting..  Ultra violet is probably the best choice..

We drove home shortly after and Izrina was miffed that she missed a scene, but happy to fall asleep in my arms.. Somewhere, there is a slave or two that is jealous of her for that.  The people who stayed over would have breakfast the next morning together, but Izrina had work, so not us.   And that my friends is the NE Power Exchange.  Our winners will go to Florida for the next competition at Beyond Leather.

Carpe diem my friends.  You don’t have to be kinky to enjoy life, but I can’t imagine living any other way.. Go be someone’s great day!

 

 

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!