These moments are always the hardest for me... Not the bondage, or the exposure of flesh, but the moment where He tells me to look at Him... The command to meet His gaze.
When I am connected with someone, eye contact is hard for me. But in this setting, my features completely unguarded and vulnerabilities presented before Him like a wanton display.
But He would know that about me. He would know that the slow caress of the cold cuffs over each wrist, the sound of them securing my ankles - He would know those things make my heart race, my breath catch, and the neediest dirtiest sluttiest thoughts fill my mind... Telling me - at that moment - at that desperately whoreishly completely exposed to my sickest fantasies moment - to meet His gaze...
It's almost too much... Yet... when He feeds on that part of me... It's not enough, because in that second that I meet His gaze - I can't help but offer everything up to His appetite.
Start in the morning when you see that girl in the mirror. I want you to think about her then, and all day. I know what you see when you see her, but let’s not talk about that—let’s talk about why I see. Let me lend you my eyes for just a minute… try to see her as I see her. Don’t worry about whether I am right or wrong… start today by trying to see a little bit of what I see.
I see a girl who is gorgeous. What I see physically—her eyes, her lips, her breasts, her figure—are not what we are talking about. Yes, your is beauty is beyond the power of my words to capture it, but your Master sees beyond those things—I see your heart. We need to talk today about things you can’t see in that mirror.
I see a girl who is strong. She has been hurt. She has made some mistakes, and has the scars to show for it. I see a girl whose trust in herself has been destroyed, who has been, at times, almost ground down to nothing. But you were not ground down to nothing… you did endure. You are far stronger than you realize. You must see that you are not your mistakes. I am in awe of the strength inside that girl in the mirror.
I also see a girl with a bright future and infinite potential stretching before her, if she is just brave enough to reach for it. You must trust yourself and your potential. I can lift you a little higher at times… support you and carry you a little ways… but you must do the work. You must be fearless and brave, pet. Dare to dream a wonderful future, and we will work toward it together.
I see a girl I want so much it scares me. I know you are terrified I will wake up one day and be done with you; whether tired, frustrated or bored, but those are the demons of your fears and insecurities whispering lies in your ear. I will love you more every day.
I know that girl in the mirror scares you, and I know you don’t quite trust my vision. Give me time. Give me your trust. in time, you will come to know her and see what I see.
Trust your Master.
There is a reason you are mine. I love you, my sweet, sweet pet.
Normally I don't relate with the mushy stuff, but this post/caption touched me. Like many others, I struggle with the version of myself that I see... how lucky His girl is to have a Master that is teaching her to see herself through His eyes - instead of the past remarks of those who have been cruel to her.
You inspire me. Your tenacity, and your strength, are inspiring things. To go from where I take you, with my words and my hands, with the whips and the ropes, and rebuild yourself, and put on your everyday clothes and your everyday smile, to slip back into the persona and enjoy yourself as an everyday person, after that.
It’s astonishing, really. It doesn’t seem like something that should be possible, to go from that sobbing, begging, beautifully broken thing into the well composed, well adjusted person that I see when others are around. To hide the bruises, both the ones on your body and the ones on your mind, under pretty, loose, pleasant clothes, and just go about your day.
The most amazing thing is how you do it with me, how you can go from what you were into what you are, and just be with me as a woman and a friend, despite what I turn you into when we slip into the bedroom, especially after I turn you into what I do. After all that begging, and pleading, and whimpers and moans, after the climax after climax. The spankings, the bindings, the whispered words.
I love that I get to see both sides of you like that. And I love both sides of you, because of that.
Dominant’s have strange, twisted minds, full of knots and winds, dead ends and false exits.
They’re complicated mazes, full of redundancies and paths that don’t lead anywhere you want them to.
But they have a core, if you can find it. It’s a tough old thing, covered in dents and rivets, but it’s still good. It still works. And once you’ve got it spluttering into life, it’ll start to burn. And it’ll start to get pretty hot.
It’s the kind of core that, once lit, isn’t about to go out in a hurry. It’s not going to fizzle and burn out, or just fall away into embers. It’s just going to get hotter, so long as you give it enough fuel.
And that heat? That’s going to burn and burn, until it’s almost uncomfortably hot. It’s going to consume you, or at least feel like it could at any second. It’s going to make you want to shift away, but you’ve been so cold for so damn long that you don’t want to, because you’ve got no idea when you’re going to get heat like this again.
You’ve no idea if you can even get warm like this, ever again.
And so you stay, and you get toasty. And so what if the edges of your cardigan start to smoke a little bit, because you feel like you’re being washed in light, bathed in heat. You feel like you’re being filled entirely up, and it makes that journey, through that maze, so entirely worth it. Because while you were winding your way through all those paths, the maze was winding its way through you. Each little choice of left or right, forward or back, was letting it know a little more about you. And it’s one of those new fangled living mazes, the kind that can change its paths as you go, create new ways for you to try, for you to fall into. As you navigates its walls, it was navigating you, mapping and charting and filing away all the little tidbits.
That’s why you’re here, getting a little burnt, a little toasty. Why you’re bathing in this warmth, and why I’m writing this increasingly soppy metaphor. Because you’ve managed to find the core and get it started.
I think it is the dream of (almost) every submissive woman to meet a Man who burns like thousand forges to master her… who can match the ache to yield to Him completely in absolute surrender… Each desire feeding the other, an explosive circle of emotional/mental chemistry…
As I’m lost between your lips, I want you to lose yourself. With each inch that you take, I want a little more of you to slip away, a little more of everything else, everything around us, to fade and disappear. As you engulf me, I want that sensation, that slow filling of you, to engulf all else.
Think of it like hypnosis, where each little increment, every slight piece that grows and builds, makes all else fall away to make room. I want you to fall into a trance, with only the one thing on your mind.
Forget about me. Forget about you. Forget about us.
Forget about the laundry in the hamper, that prick and work who keeps ogling you when he walks past, and how you really don’t know why Lana Del Ray is such a big thing.
Forget about whether that crumpet you had this afternoon was a contravention of your diet plan, or if I’m wondering whether it’s maybe been a day too many since you last shaved your legs.
Empty.
Your.
Mind.
And think about what’s between your lips. Obsess over it. Savour it. Let it take over your mind as you take it over with your mouth. Study it. Examine it with your tongue, with your lips, and, if you’re feeling particularly brave, with your teeth. Trace your hands around the base like an palaeontologist uncovering a bone. Delicate and thorough.
Make it your life’s work, and don’t allow anything else into your life. At least for the moments between when you take me into your mouth, and when you finally release me. In those moments, it’s just you and me. That very specific, very hard, very swollen and throbbing part of me.
Torture takes many forms. I have said this often, and it is true across many kinds of torment, both physically and mentally, in a BDSM bond.
Sadly, the worst torture comes when a Dominant and submissive must be apart. And this torture extends to both sides of the D/s coin.
When a submissive longs for her Dominant, she will lapse into memories and try to regain that special combination of peace, contentment, and bliss she feels when she is with her Sir. She remembers his face, his eyes, his hands, and the way he holds her. This invariably brings her to an intimate memory where she is kneeling at his feet, content, and waiting for the opportunity to please him in any way he desires.
Ironically, when a Dominant longs for his girl, he runs the same movies in his head. He remembers her beautiful face, her smile, and the lines and curves of her body. He remembers the way she feels in his arms, and the way she sings to him. He almost always ends up with an intimate memory of her at his feet or curled up against him, her body still quivering in aftershocks.
Longing is a torment of the worst kind. But after longing comes reuniting. Big smile.
In the moment, after hours of slowly breaking you down, Dominance can become ever so slightly weary. There’s such a thing as ‘Dom Drop’, although to just throw a phrase at it and hope that it sticks, that it can neatly be categorised and filed away is somewhat misleading.
It’s something that is driven by guilt, I think. The guilt that you’re doing negative things to someone you love, and yet they’re deriving enjoyment from that. It’s driven by self doubt, and the worry that maybe, regardless of how good this all feels, maybe this is the wrong thing. It doesn’t matter how rational or well thought out your arguments to the contrary are, in that moment you’ve just got the burden of it all bearing down on you. Like I said, it’s a little wearying.
But in the downtime, in the moments where the Dominance isn’t quite so at the forefront, when you’re asleep and entirely vulnerable, but more important entirely trusting of me, in my care, under my protection, that counters it all. That’s the argument against, right there, the reserves that I can pool, that form a great big light that shines away all that guilt and self doubt, that bolsters and invigorates.
It’s in the downtime that I know, without the shadow of a doubt, that what I’m doing is right, and strong, and beautiful. It’s not when I’m laying a hand on you, leaving you with marks, both mental and physical, as satisfying and arousing as those things are. It’s when I know that you’re so completely fulfilled, so absolutely happy and content, and safe, that you can be comfortable being owned, being mine, that it all comes crashing in. It’s what gets me out the other side of Dom Drop, that catch all phrase that really doesn’t catch all that much.
I haven't been myself since November, which is understandable, but I'm not pulling out of it. Maybe it is a good sign that I seem to be coming more self aware to what is going on, what I'm feeling, and beginning to look for a way out of this hole? I've looked for a while at a way to describe this ... empty distance and this morning, this scene came to mind.
