caelestis

I'm in Iowa for the summer! :3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_bAGisKyaY

While not what I usually listen to, I find it appropriate. 

You can't make everyone you like, like you. 

This is always a hard and sad truth to face. Or at least it was, for me. I spent the better part of a year getting to know someone here in Texas, who lived about four hours away. Due to numerous things it took ages for us to meet. Sometimes because neither of us had the money, school kept us busy, or we just weren't talking at the time because of some spat we'd had. Perhaps that should have been my first warning sign.

A little while back now, we got to finally meet. I went to go see him. I was so excited, I was just sure that with how well we'd talked online that everything would be spectacular. After all, I'd never met someone in person after talking to such a degree that didn't want me after meeting. A little naive of me.

The first night went really well, or so I thought. I felt something, a spark. Not a huge one, but it was there. A flickering desire. I could have sworn it was mutual,  but that wasn't the case. The next two days spent there he wasn't feeling well and stressed over numerous things, things were a little busy. I did my best to stay quiet and calm, despite the overwhelming desire to be as playful with him in person as I was online. Not a very accurate portrayal of how I am usually, but I was still myself.

To wrap things up, he said he didn't feel anything. I still have a lingering suspicion that he's in denial. After all, it is very like him to hide away from anything that makes him feel vulnerable. However, while it wasn't an enjoyable experience, it was one that I learned from. That's the key, isn't it? 

Protip: Don't send me a message containing anything you wouldn't say to a girl you're meeting for the first time in a vanilla setting.

So no sexual references, don't dive right into kinky wank fodder, don't call me things like sexy, sub, pet, etc. 

Treat me like a normal girl.

I swear, you'll get a hell of a better response. 

Look! Common questions answered here for your convenience. :3

Why do you have such a doofy picture as your main one?

- Because I'm a rather silly girl.

Where are you?

- In Texas. If that isn't enough information, then you should get to know me better. I'm not going to tell you where I live without knowing you.

Are you up for one night usage?

- No, absolutely not. As much as I may enjoy the thought of being a plaything, I'm not up for one night stands.

What is your number/yahoo/aim/msn?

- Another thing I don't give out unless I've talked to someone here a bit first.

How long have you been in the lifestyle?

- Legally, 3 years. I became interested long before I turned 18 though.

Do you have any previous training?

- Not that I would consider, no. I've gotten by on being cute, sweet, and having good manners. I don't believe I've ever needed training, and no one who has ever played with or owned me disagreed.

Do you have an owner?

- Nope, not yet. I do have people I play with though, so if you're someone who easily becomes jealous, before a real relationship is established, then kindly move along. 

Are you really 21?

- Yes, even though I certainly don't look it. :\ Please don't threaten to report me unless I "get on cam to prove it" either. That's.. creepy.

(This is taken from my FL profile (DeliriousDoll), hence the discussion of masochist being my "role" )

I was a strange kid growing up. Looking back now, it all makes me giggle, and I can see it as behavior that coincides rather well with who I've become now. If I think about it long enough, and organize my thoughts well, its like watching a transformation.

I recall a lot of instances growing up where I'd gotten hurt, and hell if I wanted to cry about it. I grew up in a neighbor hood where the majority of the children were boys, and to cry over something as silly as a small cut or scrape was to be incessantly teased until someone else did something more entertaining.

After a while it stopped really hurting, and I was always fascinated by the heat that wounds seemed to fade into. The way skin changed color when it bruised, and I'd often be chastised by my mother for poking at them to try making them bigger. She often asked me why I did it, but I could never properly explain to her how happy it made me to see the different colors spread across my skin. It was like changing, like those patterns were secrets only you could understand, your body was telling you a story.

I have always been strange about my body. I hated shots because they were putting strange liquids into me. I could feel it beneath my skin and it was so unnatural. On the other hand, I actually liked having my blood drawn, which I had to do often due to rather severe asthma. That blue substance you could see winding in veins just below the thin skin over your wrist came out that bright, gushing red that just screamed life. That was you, that was your substance.

I was fascinated by this liquid, and drove the nurses crazy. They'd do the usual after taking out the needle, wipe up the little excess, stick on a band-aid, then as soon as their back was turned that obtrusive piece of plastic was off and I was messing with that pinprick, trying to squeeze out a little more to play with. It smelled good and the fact that it tasted like pennies was enthralling. I told them as much. They didn't believe that I could actually smell anything and said that tasting it was somehow bad, which only frustrated me.

As I grew older, I became more aware of how odd these quirks of mine really were to everyone else and started to push them aside as just a little kids curiosity on the secrets a body can hold. Though subconsciously, I found other ways to indulge myself. I was involved in cross country and soccer, and I ran at least four times a week until my legs absolutely burned, until I thought I'd collapse in a trembling heap of that aching pain and the haze that fogged any rational thoughts.

I realize now that I actually reached subspace through running.

I tried talking to friends about this stuff a few times. No one ever understood, and I always just ended up feeling more out of the scope of normal teenagers. Weirder, as if somehow I was defective. It made things harder for me, and I tried desperately to hide it, but I always felt as if somehow everyone knew that I was different, in more than just the way I dressed. Thats right, I was one of those little goth/punk kids in school. It affected the few relationships I had, affected the way I treated people.

All of this was only enhanced by my sweet nature. My friends often told me I was too shy, too timid, too caring. In truth, I just wanted to make people happy, it made me happy to do so. I found that I liked rougher boys, bossy ones. Those that knew (or so I thought) what they wanted. It made me feel at ease, being with someone I felt was stronger than me. I felt safe and cared for, as if they were my protector. In my mind it was ideal, and though I didn't realize it then, I responded in a submissive manner.

As often as the guys I dated seemed to like it, something always felt strange to me. Like things were unbalanced, like I was doing something wrong, especially with the budding hormones and desires that were starting to build. I'll even admit that this want to be controlled in so many ways led me to some very poor relationships, and every time it ended I couldn't help but question what the hell was wrong with me. Why wasn't I like the rest of my friends, who swooned over boys that bought them flowers. Why couldn't I be happy with a normal, nice boy?

Then I found my saving grace, what seemed to completely explain the ways I felt. "Erotic Surrender: The Sensual Joys of Female submission." by Claudia Varrin.

The first time I finished reading it I cried. I wasn't alone, this wasn't me being defective. I wasn't broken. There were others like me, and there were ways to make it work in a healthy, happy relationship. I didn't need to be miserable, didn't need to fake being normal. That book helped me in so many ways that someday I should contact Claudia Varrin and offer the most sincere thanks I could ever muster. Who knows what other mistakes I would have made, just to feel the control of someone else?

Now, ever since reading that book I've defined myself by two phrases. First and foremost, I am a service-oriented submissive. That side of me has always been there and always will be. It manifests itself in the ways I live my day to day life. Secondly, I am a masochist. I can actually reach orgasm from pain easier than I can from sexual activities. I think anyone who has seen me play in public can easily see this side of me.

The people who I've talked to about this always ask why, if I consider myself a sub first, do I define my role on this site as "Masochist." I believe its a rather easy thing to explain. Anyone can hurt me, anyone can leave a few bruises, bite, pull hair, etc. Maybe not as well as others, but it something anyone can do. Right now, all I want regarding my lifestyle is people to play with, new experiences. To learn about things I never thought I'd get the chance to learn about.

I don't want people contacting me right now looking for a submissive. It takes a very special person to inspire the best of behavior for me. Don't get me wrong, I always do my best to be polite and not step on anyones toes, but thats not the same. The man I end up submitting to for the long run will light that fire inside, turn that happiness in pleasing others into a raging desire. He will be a very special man indeed. I've had a taste of it, and I just know that the right person is out there. That person who I'll eventually place every bit of myself before with undying trust.

So, there. If you took the time out of your day to read all of this I hope you've gathered a bit more understanding of who I am, why I'm the way I am.

It all just needed to be said.