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Are all submissives equal?

This morning I sat down to catch up on my blog reading….I went over to Luna’s blog and was astounded by what I read there.  Well, not astounded by her actual blog post – but in the comments another sub decided to take Luna to task for “grating on her nerves” (which quite frankly was the nicest sentence in the whole comment).

http://lunakm.me/2010/01/over-complication/

This bothers me on a lot of levels.  First of all, if you don’t like what you read on a particular person’s blog, then QUIT FOLLOWING THE BLOG.  Why waste time reading a blog you don’t like?

Second of all, it is tacky to throw a tantrum on someone else’s blog.

But last, and most importantly, since when is it okay to tell someone they are inferior just because she lives a different lifestyle than your own?  This person proceeded to yell at Luna for not having children, for expressing her misery at being ill, and for mourning the fact that she didn’t have private time of her own.  Evidently if you are a submissive and a blogger, you are supposed to present a happy front at all times?

Honestly – everyone is different, everyone is unique.  There are Dom/sub relationships out there that are 24/7.  Some people have a D/s relationship that revolves purely around the bedroom – in every other area of life the partners are equal in all things.  And still others have different styles of BDSM.  That doesn’t mean that one style is superior to the other….it just means it is different.

The “holier-than-thou” attitude that I see coming out of some subs really pisses me off.  As an editor of a human sexuality forum, I see this a LOT.  Quite frankly, whenever I read it I feel as though I am a recess monitor at a school for delinquents!

Every sub is different (and I can hear all the Dominates saying “Amen!” over that fact).  We are individuals with differing viewpoints, priorities, habits, and values.  We are also, all of us, united by our status as submissives.  We are members of a  sisterhood that is already attacked by the mainstream public who believes in  myths and misconceptions.  The last thing we need is dissension among our own ranks.

So please, people – if you read a blog that you disagree with, and you feel the need to post something to that effect in the comments, then do so with tact and empathy.   You wouldn’t like it if others attacked you for YOUR lifestyle choices, so offer the same courtesy to others.

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I just linked to this test courtesy of the fabulous Curvaceous Dee:

http://quizfarm.com/quizzes/Sex/poeticthinker/do-you-have-an-inclination-for-bdsm/

According to this, I scored as Submissive (gee, who knew?)

You Scored as Submissive

(((Note: This quiz is not totally comprehensive because of the length such a quiz would be. I kept it sex-based because I felt that psychological profiles and motivations were too complicated and vary too greatly among people that practice BDSM.))) It feels good to serve. A lack of control in the bedroom can be fun and relaxing. Being with a dominant person wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Submissive
96%
Degradation Lover
93%
Exhibitionist / Voyeur
93%
Experimental
89%
Masochist
79%
Bondage
68%
Switch
46%
Sadist
43%
Vanilla
25%
Dominant
4%

A couple things about this surprised me – for example, the bondage percentage.  Honestly, I am a total rope slut, and I only score a 68% bondage desire??? *scoffs*  And I am 46% switch? I don’t think so!

I do have to thank Curvaceous Dee for the chuckles *grins*  You can find her blog at curvaceousdee.com.

No such thing as a G-spot????

It has been all over the internet recently – a new study in Britain discovered that women don’t have a g-spot.  (http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/01/05/g.spot.sex.women/index.html)

Hmmm, then what is the little spot inside of me that makes me gush and scream and quake?

Seriously, a lot of women HAVE found a spot on the front wall of the vagina that has a different texture and  increased sensation.  So are the British researchers saying that those of us who have found this spot are lying?

I suspect there is going to be a lot of studies with conflicting results in future news articles.  In the meantime, a lot of women are going to be saying the same thing as the young woman in this comic:

Credit where credit is due – the comic above was found at  http://www.cad-comic.com/sillies/20100104

New Year’s Resolutions

I have a lot of things I would like to get done this new year.  Some of it is logical and realistic, some of it isn’t.

REALISTIC  GOALS

1)  To lose 5lbs per month for a total of 60 lbs by the end of 2010.

2)  To become more domestic (yes I know that is a bit of a broad statement) – to learn to ENJOY being domestic, which is something I still struggle with.

3)  To bake yummy and wholesome things for the family every Sunday, enough to last through the whole week.

4)  To visit the gym five days a week, even if it is only for a 20 minute workout.  NO EXCUSES!

UNREALISTIC  GOALS

1)  To become a combination of Martha Stewart/June Cleaver (I’m actually more of a Roseanne/Peg Bundy type – naw, just kidding!)

2)  To be able to do 20 hours of work in a 16 hour day – every day.

3)  To be flexible enough for Mad Baker to bind me in more interesting positions (and this one might get moved to the “realistic goal” list, who knows?)

I have other goals that are not so neatly written down…a vague yearning to grow more submissive in many different ways, not a specific type of behavior, more of an ideal mindset kind of thing….a little guilty voice in my head that blows my parenting failures WAY out of proportion, and urges me to become the “perfect” mom  (and yes I said “parenting failures” – any parent who claims to never had made a mistake in parenting, well, they’re lying!).

I have another voice that fairly reeks of low self-esteem, but I think I share this voice with every other person on the planet.  That voice insists that I am a poor lover and that my partners would rather be with ANYONE else than me.  Now, I know better, but that doesn’t make the voice any quieter, and so one of my quiet little non-official goals is to become a better lover, more willing to experiment and able to last longer during a scene.

I am going to focus hard on these goals this year, and not drop them like I usually do in late February or early March.  This time I am going to hold out for the whole year – THAT is the biggest goal of all.

Leave me a comment, share your goals for the new year – perhaps we can keep each other accountable.

Yuletide spankings

Well, the whole “no orgasm until Christmas” thing didn’t work out – long story, but suffice it to say that Mad Baker decided it was “not as pleasurable” for him.  I’ll admit I didn’t complain to much (hey, more orgasms are nothing to complain about, right?).

However, he did taunt me with subtle (and not so subtle) reminders of what I could expect on Christmas evening…all the new toys he had to play with, and how he was REALLY going to enjoy himself.  His voice would deepen as he hinted at what he was going to do to my helpless body as I was bound…and I would shiver at the sound of his “dom-voice”.

The night finally arrived…and at that point I was so nervous I seriously considered getting slightly drunk beforehand!  I knelt on my pillow, meditating through my ritual with my eyes closed as he prepared the ropes.

When my answers pleased him, he bound my hands in front of me with a two-column tie – and used the trailing ends of the rope to pull me to the bed.  The other ropes were strung under the mattress, one running along the center of the length of the bed, the second under the width – although that length of rope was near the foot of the bed.

I knelt on the bed with my knees right on the end, my body centered over the rope running down the middle.  He used that rope to tie my bound hands to the bed – this way I could not rise up my body or change the angle my arms were held in.  The ends of the last rope were tied securely to each ankle, forcing my legs apart so that my pink bits were exposed for his ministrations.

The blindfold was missing, so he took the headband I wear in winter and pulled it down over my eyes, blocking all light and some sound, as it was over my ears as well.  My play collar was next, and every time I whimpered or cried out it tightened around my neck.

He pulled out the unknown toys, my Christmas presents, and arranged them – I could hear him but could not see what he was doing or what he had gotten.  The anticipation was making me wet!

With the suddenness that is his trademark, Master struck me on my cunt – the feel of the sting was familiar, and I realized that he was starting with the old floggers before working his way up to the new ones.

The light flogger worked my cunt over, and I swear I actually felt myself dripping!  The rubber flogger then replaced it, and struck my ass, thighs, and the soles of my feet, making made me cry out with the different sensation – which increased my arousal.

Then I felt an entirely new sensation – whatever it was didn’t sting like the flogger, but rather felt sharper, more intense, and much, much larger than the thin flogger I was used to!  I yelped and squirmed a bit, but quickly settled down and signaled my readiness by lowering my head and pushing my ass as high into the air as I could.

THWACK

THWACK

THWACK

I shoved my head into the mattress to muffle my cries, and decided that this was a serious toy compared to the ones I was used to!  But I was determined to take whatever he could dish out, and I stubbornly held my position – not that the ropes gave me much of a choice, mind you.  But every time I DID struggle, the ropes tightened around my wrists and ankles, which drove my libido even higher.

I desperately wanted something – ANYTHING – in my cunt at that moment!

He eventually switched to a different toy……

THWOCK!!!

I couldn’t help it – I screamed and jerked my ass away from the impact, shuddering in sudden fear.  His low chuckle was my only reply, and against my survival instinct, against my will, against everything I had, I still lowered my head and raised my ass for another strike.

I felt his hands rub over my cheeks, approving of my obedience.  Then he pulled back and hit again – and again – and again.  I felt a thrill of cold fear – yet strangely my pussy reacted to the fear by growing even more wet, swelling up so that my labia separated on its own, exposing my clit.

He went through the rest of the toys, which each had a different sensation, each raising different reactions.  At one point I either was deep in subspace or he was hitting lighter, because the impacts became less painful and my cries subsided.  (When I sink into subspace, I am incapable of making sound – my vocal cords no longer obey my brain – in fact it is like the higher functions of my brain disconnect entirely during that time.)

I came back to awareness when I felt the cold lube being poured over my ass.  His fingers prodded me, testing and caressing, and I felt myself relax a bit to allow him entry – but it seemed that was not what he had in mind this time.

I heard him open a box – a few long seconds passed – and then something cold touched my anus and pressed, sliding in.  I gasped in pain – bad pain this time – and used my safeword for the first time in months.

“Ow ow ow ow ow” I gasped and squirmed, trying to relax the muscles that had immediately spasmed upon the penetration of the cold…whatever it was!  The pain from that was incredible, it felt like my entire lower intestinal tract had clenched and spasmed.

Mad Baker gently but firmly pulled out the toy, and waited while I bent as far as the ropes would let me, riding the pain, waiting for it to pass.  As soon as I was able to speak, I explained what had happened to a very puzzled (and concerned) Master.  He chuckled in relief at my explanation, and then pushed the cold toy up my cunt and told me that I could warm it up that way.  I hid my grin by burying my face into the mattress.

He went back to flogging me while I warmed up the new toy, and as he did I clenched my cunt tighter around the toy, trying to figure out what it was.  It was a small toy, felt round to me, with some kind of handle that stuck out of the body?  And it was incredibly heavy for its small size – and I concluded that it must be a metal toy.  That explained the coldness as well as the heaviness.

When it had sufficiently warmed up, he inserted the new plug into my ass again, this time with no pain and no drama.

Then he left the room!

I knelt there on the edge of the bed.  “Sir?”…..”Sir!”  I turned my head in a slight panic as I thought I heard the front door of our apartment open.   Soon he came back into the room and announced that he would be sharing me this evening!

I shuddered at the thought of a total stranger gazing at my spread legs and exposed cunt – and for some strange reason, the first thought that ran through my mind was the shame that I had not shaved my puss in over a week!  Sure I was letting it grow back in, but it was at that stage where it looked unkempt.

Then common sense prevailed….Mad Baker was not the kind to bring in a new partner without making sure I was okay with it first.  With my history of gang rape, it was important to not spring something like that on me…especially with the anniversary of the rape looming a mere week ahead.  No, he was just playing with my head.

(and why, oh why, did that realization disappoint me so badly?)

He began to whip me again, striking harder and harder – and I thought to myself  “If I don’t feel a cock in my cunt pretty soon I am going to explode!”

Finally I felt him enter me from behind – and immediately noticed that THIS WAS NOT MASTER’S COCK!  It was thinner, for one thing – although about the same length.  I shivered and orgasmed the moment I realized that he did indeed have another in the room with us.

I climaxed over and over again, while an argument went on in my head – the rational part of me insisting that he had not invited a second to join us, it wasn’t logical – the second voice arguing “I don’t know this cock! It’s a strange cock! Oh my God!!!”

I was distantly aware that I was squirting all over the person penetrating me, and that I couldn’t stop coming for more than a couple of seconds.

Eventually I became aware that the pounding had stopped – and that a new cock, a familiar and comfortable cock, was entering me – and I again started to come uncontrollably.

I lost track of what happened for a while there – sinking farther into subspace.  I was drawn out of that lovely place again when I felt something even bigger entering me – fingers wiggled and my cunt was stretched to the limit, and then beyond, and with disbelief I felt his entire hand force its way into my cunt.

I came…

and came again….

and came a third time with a scream.  Finally with the fourth orgasm he withdrew his hand, and came himself all over my ass and back.  I shuddered through one last climax at the sensation of his hot cum landing on my skin.

I came back to myself slowly, tipping to my side and lying there on the bed, utterly spent.  Mad Baker removed the ropes, blindfold, collar…..I was only distantly aware of it all.  When I was sensible again he showed me the new toys.  The incredibly painful one turned out to be a thick wooden paddle, and the one that had stung with strange sensation was a leather strap.  The rest were an assortment of canes.

The new metal plug was a medium-sized NJOY, and I decided I liked it very much!

And I discovered that there really WASN’T another partner in the room – my logical assessment had been right.  How had he made his cock feel smaller in girth?  A tight condom!  I laughed with him over my initial confusion.

So, that was the tale of my kinky Christmas….what did you, dear reader, do for the holiday?

(including a pic of all the toys used on me last night – and a second pic with a close up of the three most memorable new toys!)

Ice Cream Woes

Yesterday Mad Baker and I went shopping for groceries while the children were still in school (it’s easier to shop when you don’t have three hungry boys trailing behind you).  Included with our purchases was a container of ice cream, a half-gallon of chocolate and mint goodness.

Later, while he was running another errand, I sat down to have some of the ice cream – in the middle of the afternoon (a BIG no-no for me).  I only meant to eat a little bit – I am on a diet after all – but I got distracted in the book I was reading, and before I knew it I had eaten more than two servings.

I felt horrible, emotionally – but physically I felt great for having binged.  Perhaps I should explain that a bit more….

When I was twelve I was a slender child just coming out of a bout of anorexia, and starting to reach a healthy weight.  During that period I was gang raped, and suddenly, being slender and pretty wasn’t as much fun as it had been before.  I got to the point where I had panic attacks if a male even LOOKED at me as though he found I was attractive.  I tried dressing in baggy unattractive clothing, refused to wear make-up, and didn’t do anything more with my hair than run a brush through it in the morning.  And still, I had guys hit on me, guys staring at me as though they wanted to strip me down – and it terrified me.

At the time I felt it was my breasts…I had large breasts even then, and was already barely able to fit into the DD cups they sold in the department stores.  My narrow waist and slight build only served to emphasize the fullness of my breasts, and I HATED the attention it got me.

I saw another girl, a few years older, who had a similar sized chest – but no one hit on her.  I noticed that she was overweight, and felt that was the reason she didn’t have the unwanted male attention – and like a light bulb, a plan exploded in my head.  I would become fat!

So I began to do small jobs around the neighborhood for money, and used that money to buy the most fattening foods I could find.  Every time I binged, I felt a satisfaction that is indescribable.  I felt in control, strong, independent.  And every time a man would hit on me, I would go to the store and buy more food.

Corn chips, chocolate, candy bars, soda, fast food – it all made me feel good.  It became almost like a drug, I think.  And I gained weight quickly – by the time I was eighteen I was a size 14 and weighted nearly 200 pounds.

But by then I had gotten to know a few males as friends and acquaintances, and had come to the realization that not all men were cruel.  So I began, hesitantly, to lose some of the weight I had put on.  I also had the strong desires and urges that all teens feel towards the opposite sex, and was hitting the point where I felt ready to experiment sexually.

So I lost some weight, hooked up with a guy that I had some attraction for, and ended up being hurt by him over several years.  I went back to the eating, this time for comfort, and gained more weight.

I still have moments where a man will make me uncomfortable, and I feel a strong urge to binge, but I tend to have more control over myself than that.

Which brings me back to the ice cream incident.  I honestly had just intended to eat a little bit….but I should add that I knew, even then, that I was NOT supposed to be eating ice cream at any other time than after supper.  So I knew I was doing wrong even before I ate the first bit.  But I hadn’t intended to eat as much as I had!

When I finished the chapter in my book, I looked down at the ice cream and was stunned by how much I had consumed already.  In disgust I shoved the container away from myself and got up, washed the spoon and drank some water.  I realized that the ice cream contained two of my binging triggers – mint and chocolate – and decided to shove the remaining ice cream to the back of the freezer, thinking “out of sight, out of mind”.

I forgot about it until today, when I went into the freezer to decide what to make for supper.  There was the dark brown and green container, grinning at me…and I SWEAR it was saying “Eat me!”

I held out for a while, but eventually pulled out the container and ate a couple bites, feeling guilty the entire while.  But I couldn’t seem to help myself, it was so good!  For a while I consoled myself by saying “I just wanted it because my throat is sore” – which it is – but I knew better.  I could have had a low-calorie popsicle for that sore throat instead.

I ended up confessing to Mad Baker, who grew very angry with me (and rightfully so).  He asked for an explaination as to why I did what I did – and I found myself at a loss to explain my actions.

Did I know that eating ice cream during the middle of the day was wrong? Yes.  Did I know that when I eat a treat, I am supposed to put just one serving in a bowl, so I am not tempted to overeat?  Yes, I knew that too.

The whole time he was lecturing me, I felt tears threating to fall.  I would have done anything at that moment to be able to go back in time and not eat the damn ice cream, but it was too late, the damage was done.  And worse than his anger was his disappointment – and knowing that it was my foolishness that caused it.

My punishment?  To blog about this incident – to have to go public with what I did and how I felt about it.  I’m not very happy with myself at this moment.

Sometimes I wonder if I need to be in some sort of twelve-step program like Overeaters Annoynomous (yes, that is a real twelve-step program).  I seem to struggle so much with controling my food intake – it is the hardest part of the diet for me.  I don’t struggle so much with the exercise or the other parts of the diet…the only part I struggle with is food.  But I cannot exactly go cold turkey on food!

I really don’t know how to fix this particular problem.

Ritual

Mad Baker has a ritual he likes me to experience sometimes before we play.  Basically it is a meditative period to get me in the right frame of mind before a scene.

I am to kneel on a pillow and relax, letting go of all the stress and strain of my day.   Lately I have noticed that just the act of kneeling on the pillow causes me to space slightly.

Once relaxed, I am to think of answers to the following questions:

1)     What makes my submission worthy?

2)     What makes Mad Baker’s dominance attractive to me?

3)     What have I been fantasizing about lately?

4)     Do I have anything to confess to my owner?

After a short period of time, Mad Baker comes to me and asks if I am ready to answer his questions.  If I am, he listens to my replies and deems if they are appropriate and complete.  If I have pleased him, he does something to me – things along the lines of putting on my collar, applying nipple clamps, blindfolding me, and many others.

He doesn’t use this ritual every time we play – only occasionally – but I enjoy it.  Yesterday he tossed the pillow at my feet and told me to kneel.  I knelt, mere inches from him, and meditated on my questions.  The smell of his skin and the sight of his cock kept distracting me, but I managed to focus enough to answer all my questions.

He rewarded me with his cock, allowing me to taste it and revere it…but that was where the gentleness on his part ended.  He grabbed my ponytail and used it as a handle to hold my head steady while he fucked my face, shoving his cock far back into my throat, making me gag.

He then bound my hands in front of me – the rope tingling as it ran across my skin, making me gasp and shiver.  The blindfold came next – a nice thick double layer of black fabric.  The nipple clamps were snapped on, making me cry out at the pain/pleasure.

He pushed his cock into my mouth again and began to thrust.  I gagged and turned my head to the side for a moment, and he slapped my face and shoved his cock back into my mouth.

“You are going to keep those lips firmly wrapped around my cock, and you are NOT to remove them until I decide they can be removed”

I nodded my understanding and tightened my lips around his shaft, feeling it thrust in and out of my mouth.  I tried to create suction but he was moving too much for me to get much of a grip….so I started to flick the underside of his cock with my tongue, focusing on the sensitive spot just under the head.

The chain connecting the nipple clamps swung back and forth with our movements, causing brief yet glorious spurts of pain – until they finally fell off, bringing a yelp as each clamp was released.

A couple times he shoved his cock all the way down to the hilt, and held me there, unable to breathe, unable to fight back, and desperately wishing he would hold it there longer than he did.

When he tired of face fucking, he drew me upright and forced me to the bed, kneeling so that I was in the perfect position for him to stand behind and fuck me.  He ran his hands over my shaved puss, then across my ass and down my thighs.

I felt his fingers trace patterns over my skin as he came back to my puss, and a sudden surge of wetness as his fingertip lightly ran over my clit.  I jumped and moaned softly, hips working against his hand, hoping for more.

His fingers entered with a savageness that felt strangely unreal, the pads of his fingers unerringly stroking my g-spot.  His thumb brushed up against my clit and began to work it in rhythm with his fingers, bringing me quickly to a shuddering orgasm.

He pulled back and slammed his cock into my prepared puss, filling me completely with a single stroke before pulling back and thrusting again – and again – and again.

His wicked fingers returned to my clit and began to tease and torment me beyond sanity.  I cried out and rocked back to meet his next thrust, and began fucking him as eagerly as he was fucking me.  The angle was just right, the head of his cock stroking that g-spot with perfect pressure – the orgasm built up and flooded through me, soaking my puss and making my body lose the rhythm.

He used some of that fluid to prepare my ass for fucking.  I began to beg and protest, stating that his cock was too big to fit all the way in my ass!

He chuckled an evil little chuckle and reminded me that my pleasure, and my pain, were not important – all that mattered was HIS pleasure, and if he wanted to fuck my tight little ass then that was what he was going to do!

It took several long minutes but finally he was able to fully penetrate – I was crying for mercy at that point, but deep inside was enjoying every moment of the “forced” anal play.

He pulled back and began fucking my ass with the same enthusiasm he had shown for my puss, and almost against my will, my body began to move in rhythm, pushing back to take all of him with as much force as I dared to use.  I orgasmed from the anal play again and again, even as I struggled against him and against the bindings he had put on me.

He grabbed my ponytail, using it as a handle as he fucked me senseless.

He took a break a couple times, to flog and spank me, but then always came back to fucking my ass…and each time he did, it felt as though his cock had grown harder and larger, each penetration seeming to bring more pleasure than the previous, until I was nearly limp with the emotions and endorphines.

Suddenly he drew back and yanked me off the bed, forcing me to kneel at his feet as he came all over my face.  I sputtered, but then licked the drops that had landed on my lips, noting that the taste was not as astringent as it usually is.

When he was done with me, I knelt there in a daze, unwilling to move – slowly I tipped until I was leaning against the bed for support, still in the kneeling position.  Mad Baker chuckled at the sight of me and threw me a towel so I could “clean up”.

We didn’t cuddle afterward – not this time, it just didn’t seem like it was the kind of scene that you end with cuddling and gentleness.  I finally managed to crawl up onto the bed and collapsed, falling asleep feeling utterly drained, sore from being used – and peaceful, content – and complete.