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Marisol
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I had a dream the other day that basically symbolized what I think it is I'm searching for. I know it isn't prudent to be asking for the woman of my dreams but at the very least it gives an idea of what I'm looking for to see if there is a connection.
In my dream, I met a person who claimed to be a succubus. It was easy to believe because she was built like a combination of an Amazon and a Goddess of Fertility. Tall, strong, but also curvy. The fact that her entire body was a cerulean hue didn't do anything to dissuade me she was otherworldly. She was naked, clothed only in tattoos and arcane markings on her skin.
But it wasn't the looks that convinced me. It was confidence. It was the dominance. It was the comfort she shown. She might have been nude, but she stood with a posture that you'd think she was clad in the most elegant silks wrapped around the most battle-scarred leather. She was the most confident person that I had ever seen. Looking at her, you had the feeling that she was omnipotent, that she knew everything, seen it all, and had a plan for everything to the extent that she was bored of life being so predictable. Maybe she was a Goddess.
She took one look at me, and acted as if she knew everything about me. And she did. With a snap of her fingers, pointing down, she immediately knew what I needed before I needed it. I knelt. She offered me her leg. Without question, without option, without choice, I started worshiping her. I worshiped her calves, her thigh. I prayed to her toes. I laid kisses on her knee, I cleaned the pit with my tongue.
I was in complete and total love. Not with her. Not with her legs, just with the sole one she offered me. If you were to ask me then, I would have died for her leg. I couldn't tell you why. I don't even have a leg fetish. They are alright but it wasn't about me, it was her. She wanted me to worship her leg, so I did. I fell in love with it. She could have given me anything and I would of loved it with the same devotion.
With neither of us speaking a word, I understood my role. I was hers. I was hers to do with as she pleased. I would have done anything she asked, and in return, I got what she deemed to give me. That was the only negotiation and agreement we needed. I didn't even hesitate, I accepted.
My celibacy didn't matter. My limits didn't mean anything. I didn't need carry this false sense of confidence anymore, because she was all the confidence I needed. I was hers and that was the only thing that mattered to me. I was obsessed, yes, but I was also in love. She had my soul.
That's a pretty tall and unrealistic order to fill, but basically that's what I would love to find. Someone that I can just give myself 100% too. |
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Some Frequently Asked Questions that might be easier to answer here than through my messages if you are curious. These are far more blunt than I usually am, so don't take the tone as me being rude. It's just if I answered these with my usual tact, it would be to long to read.
Q: Why the name "CelibacySub?"
A: Sex causes me a great deal of anxiety due to PTSD. I grew up in a household that demonized sex. I was told that my partners ('women' specifically) never wanted sex and that anytime you had sex with them, you are raping them. I was told if I had sex, I was going to get AIDS and die as punishment. My first sexual encounter was with someone who took my virginity as I slept. My second was with a partner who threatened suicide if I didn't have sex with her. I face a large amount of post-orgasm guilt and depression.
As a result, I had decided that it was best just to use the term "Celibate" to ward off those who might only be interested in the sex side of things, and having it in the name would be sure that no one would miss it.
Q: So you don't have sex at all?
A: Not quite. Sex causes me a great amount of anxiety but for someone who I am trusting of and can feel safe around, it can happen, but it is usually a case that the spirit is willing but the body is not.
I instead to please partners via other methods (oral, toys, hands, etc.) or if they are inclined, have them top me via anal/pegging. However, I prefer the focus to be 95% on their pleasure. I have never had an orgasm brought on by another partners, so for me, my own pleasure is inconsequential.
Q: So are you into chastity? Or cuckold?
A: A more accurate interpretation is to say that they are options. I don't get anything from chastity because I feel it works best when a submissive typically wants release and is unable to get it, whereas for me, a chastity cage is more like an insurance policy. Not many people have had a fun experience with it if it doesn't feel like the sub is suffering for it or being begged to let out or have release.
Cuckold is more of a thing I just accept happens with my condition. I certainly don't want my partner to be without so I encourage them to have partners if I'm not fulfilling a need. I don't really gain pleasure from seeing someone else using my partner, or jealous. I'll partcipate, but just don't expect the reaction you'd normally get.
Q: What do you get out of it?
A: My problem isn't a kink, it's a borderline mental disorder. The celibacy thing isn't a fetish for me, it is something I just live with.
That said, what I am seeking is someone I can give pleasure to, whether that would be sexual release via toys, or personal contentment through household chores or company. I am happy if I can make someone else happy. I have my own fetishes and likes, but they are inconsequntial to what I enjoy.
Q: If you're a slave, this shouldn't be about you, it's about me and my wants.
A: Mostly, I would agree. However, this isn't something I chose, this is an ingrained reaction. You can't expect a slave to get over anxiety or depression just because you demand them to. That's not how it works. If you take me as a slave, then you also take my issues. That's not to say these issues can't be worked through. I want someone who is willing to push me and make me uncomfortable. I want to be molded into someone's perfect slave. It's just not going to happen immediately, and not without struggle.
If you feel that's unreasonable, then all I can say is the best of luck on your search.
Q: I don't care about you, just your wallet.
A: Then move on. While I have nothing against financial domination in theory, the problem arises when you are only looking to get money out of a slave and not expecting to have to be involved with my life, and so many of you are just doing that to get a couple of bucks out of desperate men. I'm lonely, but far from that desperate. If your profile is primarily about FinDom and nothing else, you are most likely blocked anyway.
Besides, you would be incredibly disappointed to learn that I am a self-employed artist that lives off of roughly $400 a month currently. I have nothing to give you. |
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I wouldn't say 50 Shades of Grey was maliciously depicting an abusive relationship, but rather just sort of an accidental fantasy that if exposed to the rigors of an actual relationship, would come across as psychopathic. It only works in the extreme version of escapism. And granted all fantasy novels are pretty grand thoughts of escapism, but Fifty-SoG has a lot of problems because the writing isn't very good to create that illusion, but rather it sort of mangles a terrible love story with a basic, juvenille knowledge of BDSM you learn from watching pornography.
For example, say I write an erotica about a virgin meeting a prostitute. A good writer, to avoid making it come across as creepy or abusive, puts a emphasis of context and subtext, showing and not just telling. You would mention human things like the shame of having to pay for your first time, but the excitement as well. You would go through his conflicting thoughts and the empathy (or lack-thereof) of the prostitute. You weave these mini-narratives to create a story and world you can believe exist for reasons.
You would make it something like this: "I wasn't really sure how I felt. Disgusted, pathetic, excited, nervous. An array of emotions just welled throughout my entire gut to the point where if I would have ate lunch I'm sure that would of came out as well. I never had sex before, and I wasn't sure if I wanted too. I didn't know if that by tasting the fruit of temptation I was going to kick myself for all the years spent not knowing what it felt like, or that I spent all those years wanting something that wasn't that great to begin with. I kept expecting to run away with each step closer we took to our hotel room, but each step only led me closer to the next moment of my life.
She looked at me with her perfect smile that I'm sure was paid for many men before me. I humored to myself that the smile was just as fake as her breast, but looking into her eyes I sensed a genuine pity. It was not because she seen as virgin who had to pay for his first time. They were softer, more sympathetic. I think on some level we could relate, maybe she also knew what it was like to be uncomfortable with yourself. I smiled back, hoping it would put her at ease, even though I was the one that needed comforting.
My train of thought was completely derailed as she kissed me on the lips. 'Don't-a worry, monsieur' she spoke in accent that cost me an extra $50 an hour compared to the other girls. 'You haz me for the whole night, no? Take ze time an relax.' I think I smiled back, but the only thing I can recall is the feeling of her lips on mine. I didn't even notice she had pulled me into the comfort of the hotel room when she dropped a small bag, completely brimming with sex toys on the floor. I gulped, my inner monolouge filling me with second thoughts. I looked into her sapphire eyes that gleamed a playfil, sadistic look as she said "I promize, this will be ze night you will neva forget, monsieur. The zafe word iz "Effiel Tower".
Not the best writing but you at least get a general idea of who each character is, their motivation, how they react to their surroundings and each other. It's not too long but it conveys a lot, and from that paragraph you can probably guess where the rest of the story goes, and where it's been. You get a clear idea that yeah, the author surrogate might be nervous and shamed, but he makes it very clear that he is a willing participant. Consent is hesitant but given. The escort is understanding and confident. She's sympathetic but professional, and even a bit flirty, she isn't entirely regretting or hating her position either. And find out that author... he's a little bit racist
Now, let's look of how Fifty-SoG typically writes:
"My inner nerd was flipping out like the star wars kid, and I wasn't quite sure where I had dropped my lightsaber. She was so sexy with her long blonde hair with blue eyes, her lips the perfect shade of red, like two delicate rose petals had replaced her lips. She was wearing a black dress that had a gloss like it was rubber or vinyl or latex... or something.
Though I know that I paid her, there was a look in her eyes that said if she could, she would do it for free, though I'm not sure why as I was just your ordinary 26 year old. A part of me thought she was going to ravage me in the hallway, and I was so nervous, but she led me by the hand into the future where I wasn't a virgin. i felt my arousal grow like a flower in the desert, thirsting for rainwater. But then my eye caught something in the small bag she was carrying on the opposite side, and I could have sworn I seen handcuffs and a whip. I know she was into domination, but I was now worried that she thought that was what I wanted. A devilish, sadistic look left her eyes in a way that said "Tonightz iz ze nightz youz will nevaz forgetz" as she pulled me into the room and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
The only thing you really learn is that the author might have a bit of a issue communicating his sexual desires healthily way. You might also wonder if that this guy was actually a willing participant or if he accidently just dropped $100 into some random girl's lap by accident and he was whisked away to castle kink land. You're not entirely sure about anything regarding the characters and the mixed messages and uncompleted thoughts make you wonder if you are reading an erotic novel or the last few words of a man who was found dead a couple of weeks later. And find out that author... he's a little bit racist |
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Age: 24 |
United Kingdom |
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