Archive for May, 2013

Let me go

Posted in Kink with tags , , , on May 30, 2013 by michella74

There’s a private local play party coming up and I’m really excited about it. Panzer and I have been to this house several times previously, but we were always catering and after a day of prepping and cooking hors d’oeuvres, we never had the energy to actually play. This time will be different. This time we’ll be going as guests, and it’s possible that The Biker will be able to join us. The house itself is beautiful, and since it’s a private party, there aren’t as many rules as are usually present in public venues. That’s lovely, but not what is titillating me. So why am I excited?

Well, I haven’t had a good, hard scene in over a month. I’m not talking about just a bit of rope and some spanking. I’m talking about a challenge. I’m talking about something cathartic. I’ve been consumed with the memories of my last hard scene and I want more. This party gives me a chance to get it. Therefore, I’m giggling and doing a little happy dance.

You see, I want to feel the kiss of canes. I want fingernails leaving scarlet moons  in my skin. I want fingers and teeth digging into my flesh. I want to fight. I want to scream. I want to be slapped. I want hands around my throat until the edges of my vision go black. I want my cries of pain to be muffled by a cock being shoved into my mouth. I want to hear them call me a filthy whore because I asked for this – because I enjoy it. I want to make it to the end of the scene and have to be lowered onto the floor; nothing more than a bundle of raw nerve-endings and tears. I want to hate Panzer (and The Biker if he can join us) for a little while afterwards. I want to whisper at them to not touch me, to just let me curl up into a little ball. In short, I want to be deliciously broken by the end of it so I can rebuild myself.

I don’t crave scenes like this very often for two reasons. First, because of the amount of work it takes to get me to that point. Some people submit to the pain easily. For me though, it’s never that simple. My mind won’t let me give up control without a fight. I thrash, I curse, I threaten my Top with bodily harm. It’s not pretty, and yet, there’s something wild and wonderful about it. Secondly, and I hate admitting this, scenes like this actually frighten me…more than a little.

Prior to realizing the level of my masochism, I was always fascinated by watching the heavy players. Seeing a Top punching, kicking, choking their bottom; seeing the bottom begging for mercy while tears rolled down their face; witnessing the connection between the beater and the beaten; it enthralled me. I always thought it was similar to wanting to stare at the car accident as I drove by, but within the past eight months or so I’ve realized that I was fascinated because I wanted to be IN those scenes. That scares me. Realizing that I crave beatings and tears and pain that much sometimes makes me wonder why? Why do I need the pain so much?

Needing the pain is something that I’ve come to accept, but the pain itself still gives me pause. I know that Panzer and The Biker will read this post. I know what the result will be. They’ll do their best to give me what I’m asking for. And that scares the hell out of me. I don’t get frightened when I know that a “normal” scene is going to happen; one in which I’ll still be aware of myself and will remain unbroken. But this is different. The amount of pain and degradation that it will take to get me to the level I’m now desiring is substantial. The idea of it makes me tremble and yet, it still gets me wet. 

I had a discussion last night with a friend about scenes like this. As a Top, there is always the fear that you won’t be able to control the sadistic beast inside; that once unleashed, it won’t allow itself to be caged again; that the bottom will hate you long after the scene is over. These are valid fears, and in my opinion, good Tops always have them to some degree. But as a bottom, there is always the fear that you won’t be able to take it; that you’ll have to safeword early; or worse, that you won’t be able to let go of yourself and surrender to the pain. I’ve experienced all those fears as both a Top and a bottom and I’m experiencing the fears of a bottom now as well as something else.

I’m really fearing the pain itself. I know how odd that must sound since I’ve gone on and on about being a heavy masochist, but it’s true. Yes, I process pain differently than most people, but it still registers as pain. It still makes me whimper and cry. I still try to escape from it. I still scream when the cane leaves a welt, when fingertips grind into a nerve, when a blade draws blood. How could I not? The difference is that I know what my body will do with that pain within a few moments…it will turn it into pleasure and allow me to let go. That, my friends, is why I crave it even as I fear it. That is why I ask for it. That is what makes me who I am.

The Rigger cut our ropes

Posted in Friendship, Polyamory with tags , , on May 12, 2013 by michella74

When he said nothing but a return to monogamy, relocation, or death would break us up, I should have known he was lying.

I’m not The Rigger’s “type”. I’ve known that from the beginning, but I was willing to give “us” a chance. He told me that he didn’t want another submissive girl, he didn’t want to have to take care of someone, he wanted a woman that could take care of herself; someone that was his equal, someone that he could be himself with – his whole self. I fell for it; hook, line, and sinker. Sure, part of the problem is that I wanted it so badly to be true, but he’s also very good at making women fall in love with him. I’m not being petty either, he told me that one night as we drove around St. Louis, looking at old buildings that he loves.

I don’t think there was any malicious intent on his part, but keeping it from me wasn’t the kindest thing he could have done. For the past month there has been a distinct lack of intimate contact from him. There were hugs and soft kisses, but no passion from him at all. At first, I thought it had to do with the death of his friend, but yesterday something made me question it. Aside from sleeping naked beside him, our “date” was more like two friends hanging out. He put me in rope, but left me fully clothed (like any other play partner) and didn’t touch me afterwards. He woke before me to a phone call, but never came back to bed. Then he spent the entire morning texting with a new girl that needs a caretaker. When I left his place, it felt like he had to remind himself to tell me he loved me and because of that, I wept the entire way home.

It took me hours to decide whether or not to bring up my concerns, but I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. He obviously wasn’t going to say anything, so it was up to me. I texted him three words: Are we ok? I didn’t hear from him for five hours. After the first 30 minutes had passed, I knew the answer, but I waited anyway. (I’m a masochist, after all, and I wanted the pain.) When he answered, he confirmed everything I’d been sensing. He said he no longer felt passion for me. He said he still loved me, but wanted to feel like he couldn’t keep his hands off of his partner.

I’d like to say that these statements surprised me, but I can’t. He’s always commented on the beauty of babygirl, how he can’t keep his hands off of her, how much he wants her, etc. At one point in time he told me I was beautiful, but that stopped long ago. In a recent discussion he said that “an accident of genetics” was the reason that photographers didn’t ask me to model for them. That’s not really a statement you want to hear from a man that you love.

There are so many things he said and did that I’ve been replaying in my head for the past 24 hours. I think that’s the worst part about a breakup; the rewinding of time and the echoes of past words and deeds. It’s almost impossible to recall the good times right now, and when I allow myself to do that, the pain is almost unbearable. I can’t think about the happy times right now. I have to focus on all the hurtful things that he said and did. I have to focus on the unkept promises; and there are many. I’m focusing on the disappointments, the tears he caused, the bad pain. There is nothing I can do about the lack of passion he has for me now. I am nothing more than a failed experiment in his life, and he in mine. I hope that one day we’ll be able to be friends again, but not right now, not for a bit.

Thankfully, when you live a poly life, there is (usually) another partner there to help assuage the pain. I’m extremely lucky that I have two. Both Panzer and The Biker spent the evening consoling me, telling me how much they loved me; helping me to focus on the love I have in my life instead of the hurt. Without them I’d be a miserable wreck of a woman right now instead of simply morose. But I’ve still lost my friend – the one that helped me through prior breakups, the one who helped me see the good in those that caused me pain. That hurts me more than knowing he no longer desires me.

So, it’s time to rebuild my walls, strengthen my defenses, and hope that I don’t fall for the same tricks again. Every time I’m hurt I become more of a cynic, I become more withdrawn, I make it more difficult to see the real me. I worry that someday I won’t even know who I really am behind the public facade.

Do I scare you? Good.

Posted in Kink, Ruminations with tags , on May 10, 2013 by michella74

I can be physically intimidating. I admit it. I’m 5’9″. I have an abundance of curves in the right places. I have a relatively deep voice for a woman. I wear Rockabilly makeup and I’m often in 3″-5″ heels when I’m out on the town. My left arm has a 3/4 sleeve and my upper right arm is covered by a tattoo of a woman in bondage. I have facial piercings and half of my bangs have been bleached from a chestnut brown to blonde. Many people find me intimidating, but I really don’t think it has much to do with my appearance.

I consider myself somewhat of an introvert. Although I’m perfectly happy to sit at a bar all night with a group of friends, I’m usually the quiet one. I enjoy observing people. I listen to what they’re saying, watch how their bodies move, and how they interact with everyone else. Many times, people don’t realize that I’ve been observing them for hours. There’s something satisfying about being able to tell when someone is stretching the truth or if I’ll be able to silence them with a look or sometimes, just being able to tell who needs to be pulled aside and asked if they’re doing ok. I don’t claim to be all-knowing when it comes to judging character, but given the time to observe someone, I can get a good feel for them. I guess that can make me somewhat intimidating to some people, but I try to use my powers for good.

So why am I writing about this?
Well you see, Panzer and I were talking the other night about kink (shocking, eh) and we got on the subject of my Topping style. Yes, the word intimidating came up again. I believe it was right after I said something about not needing other people’s pain, but craving the sight of tears falling from beautiful eyes. Panzer just sort of looked at me, then he laughed and told me that I’m frightening. The best (worst) part about that statement is that I wasn’t really even thinking about what I was saying – it just popped out. I guess sometimes even I forget how scary the thoughts in my head can be. I decided to write about it and try to figure out why that particular word is used about me so often.

When The Cop and I were dating there was a night that I was in a bit of a frenzy. At that point in time, I didn’t have any partners that I Topped and I was feeling particularly sadistic that evening. We were standing in a parking lot next to my car and he was on duty. I remember commenting to him that I wanted nothing more than to feel flesh between my teeth and blood running down my chin. FSM bless him, he put his forearm in my mouth and told me to “go ahead”. I don’t really remember the bite, but I know he had to forcibly remove his arm from my teeth. What I do remember is the look of fear and awe in the eyes of the uniformed officer standing in front of me, and to this day, it makes me wet.

Gothboy told me more than once that I frightened him. He was relatively new to kink when we started dating. Well, that’s not completely true. He’d never had an experienced partner and was surprised by some of the things that I enjoy. The first night I told him to wrap his hand around my throat while he fucked me, he looked scared, but he did it. When I asked him to throw me around and be as rough as he could, again, there was fear there, but after a few moments, he was enjoying himself as much as I was. But after we ended our relationship and actually started talking, he told me that I was, yep, intimidating.

After The Rigger and I started dating and I was able to start regularly exploring the Top side of myself, I began to gain a greater understanding of what it is about me that scares people. My theory is this: I know and accept who I am. I’m a strong woman and I’m not afraid to be honest with people. I know what I enjoy and what I don’t. Commanding someone to hurt me, or commanding them to take the pain I give them doesn’t frighten me. And in both situations, the amount of pain is significantly higher than most people enjoy. If I think that someone is being treated unfairly, or treating someone else unfairly, I’ll say so. I think all that, more than how I look, is why so many people are intimidated. And to be honest, I’m completely fine with that.

Unlock my cage

Posted in Kink with tags , on May 6, 2013 by michella74

“I don’t think you like to LET your submissive slut out to play; you like to have her dragged out to play by her hair, kicking and screaming.” This is what Panzer said to me tonight when I was trying to figure out why I like to be slapped in the face. Upon further thought, I have to say that his observation was quite astute.

I’m a Dominant masochist most of the time. And when I’m not, I’m a horribly mean sadist. But then, there are those rare times, when my submissive gets let out of the padlocked cage that she calls home. Sometimes it’s being called a whore, sometimes it takes having a cock shoved into my mouth, sometimes I just need to be caned until I beg for it to stop. But what has been working recently is a good, hard, slap in the face…the kind where I see stars for moment. And I didn’t discover this trick until recently – with The Rigger. He loves face-slapping. I was quite reticent to allow it at first. You see, I have a nostril piercing, an upper lip piercing, and a tongue piercing. I’ve always been frightened of allowing a Top to slap me because of the dangers my jewelry posed. I don’t relish the idea of having gum surgery, or yet another broken tooth, but I’ve been fascinated by the idea of being slapped for quite a while now.

The first time it happened, it was a mistake on The Rigger’s part. He had forgotten that I’d told him not to do it. It was a “heat of the moment” action and I did really see stars. The effect it had on me was…surprising, to say the least. I’ve never turned so submissive so quickly. My cheek was sore for several days and I loved it. A week later I ended up writing a short piece of erotica about things that I found extremely titillating and face-slapping was included. Since then, I almost crave it. Not quite, but almost.

As Panzer pointed out, I don’t enjoy letting my submissive side out. I keep her locked up most of the time because I don’t really enjoy showing that side of myself to anyone. I want to, in fact I enjoy, being seen as the Dominant woman that just happens to be able to withstand a huge amount of pain. The submissive side of me “needs” people. I don’t want to need anyone. I’m a self-sufficient woman that was raised by a self-sufficient woman. How can I have a submissive living inside of me? That can’t be a good thing, right?

Well, sometimes, it’s necessary to let her out. Sometimes, I need to break down my walls and not only LET someone control me, but have no choice about it. And for me, being slapped in the face does it every single time.