ObsidianCrush

We. It's ours.

We are so close. And very soon, I get to spend the rest of my life with a remarkable partner. It will be complex. And very painful. Just the way we like it...

We are so close.

Happy (belated) birthday, Hegemon. 

39 + 46. With the whole Armada.

Finally, Folsom Street Fair. It was a delight to see so many people free to be exactly who they are.

Next milestone: Thanksgiving. A feast of international dishes and cruel torments.

And the beginning of living fully.

Anxious.

I am eager to reconnect, physically and intimately, with my minion. It's been too long. And these dark needs, this voracious hunger, just can't be slaked via phone call and email. While the rest of San Diego entertains the throngs who will arrive to be a part of Comic Con, minion and I will have our own demented Torture Con.

My masochist is hungry for the whip. And I, her sadist, am so eager to see her suffer.

A carcass in anguish. Stand by. There will be pictures.

The minion has been suffering some chronic health problems that have both minion and Hegemon preoccupied with their symptoms, diagnosis, treatment, and care. 

We regret our recent lack of activity and communication on both Collar Me and in private correspondence. But life interdicts, and we are both consumed by personal difficulties.

Kink on, you glorious sick fucks.

Minion was told to select five images to post of herself in use. I'm pleased with the those she has selected.

Good girls get bullwhipped.

Welcome home, Hegemon.

Minion's present assignment? Cull through our vast epistolary -- the notes and letters that forged this relationship as we got to know each other through correspondence -- and distill from this insights into what makes me a sadist,  she a masochist, and why we work so well together. (Fun fact: It's not just because we're a sadist and a masochist.) It's a writing assignment with a conclusion that may be published, so minion is taking it very seriously.

The pleasant corollary to the project is her little finds; unearthed memories from that formative period of our relationship that remind us of why we are together now. Sweet notes of adoration. Cruel assignments.

Minion introduced one assignment from way back when in the spirit of, "remember when you made me do this?" Minion's total lack of self perservation allows her to do this. And, of course, it all came flooding back, the memory of the assignment and what she had to do to complete it. As well as my desire that she do it again, now, just to remind us of how pleasurable the experience had been (for me, anyway.) 

So I am sure she is as thrilled as I am that tonight, when we chat over Skype, she'll get to re-read the old assignment as we prepare for it to be done again. Additionally, she'll be thrilled to know I have... enhancements.

I know. My thoughts exactly... What a lucky minion.

Happy birthday, Hegemon. 

Edin.
Eden.
2011.
I hate to say goodbye to you.

It is agony to say goodbye, to you, Hegemon. Even though it's just for now.

Edina. October.

We are a sadist and a masochist who are embarking on a new chapter in our lives. One  where we can finally embrace the full severity of our sexuality. We are eager to make friends with others for whom bdsm isn't a lifestyle as much as it is a part of their core.

What we are not presently looking for are real time meetings. Obsidian is presently overseas and, when he does return, wants Crush all to himself. I'm sure you understand. It's been a long separation and he has plans and machinations for the brutal use of his minion... He will require a long period of her exclusive service and suffering.

Thus, all requests to meet will be declined. Crush will, however, have time between lashings to engage in correspondence with those who'd like to get to know us.

When told "I've got good news and bad news..." and then asked "which would you like to hear first?" Crush will always answer, "the bad." The bad news: Obsidian and Crush presently sit on different continents. This distance can be crushing at times.

The good news: we have something worth the wait. When I am at my lowest, it helps to image the amazing flesh-real we get to have when I return to my home and my minion in San Diego.  How I can just hear those sweet, sweet screams...

I think you all should know that Obsidian really hurt me last week. 

Ain't love grand? 

San Francisco. Again. Seems fitting, doesn't it?

This time, the concentration is on artwork. An exhibition.

I get to be the canvas. 

If it's menial, it's minion.

The shimmering bait Obsidian cast that landed him his Crush:

There is so much out there that is mundane, plain and vanilla. Looking to run my fingers over sharper experiences with women and men who seek a darker, kinkier enlightenment in their lives. I am a sadist, which means I will take pleasure in your subjugation, pain, and degradation, but I am also someone grounded in reality who knows the difference between what is fantasy and what is possible in the real world. That is, you'll suffer as much as you crave, but won't be broken (beyond repair.)

Wonder of wonders! What an amazing weekend with my minion in San Francisco. Wicked Grounds. China Town. Vesuvio's. City Lights. Absinthe. Storm Troopers. Dim Sum. And... whippings. Severe ones. What a delight to see confirmation that your soulmate truly is a pain slut, one that, in the aftermath of a severe lashing, says "More please."

The vultures are happy. And so is this Hegemon. Note to sadist: anchor nubs are not detachable. This weekend had it's severely erotic moments as well as time spent doing nothing more than enjoying each others company while running errands. But this was confirmed; kink, ours, isn't something you put on. Or something you act out.  There is no on/off switch. It isn't whips and clamps shoved back into the play bag when spanky spanky fun time is over. These dark desires, hers, mine, ours... they are a part of us. They are intertwined into any sense of who we are. Hegemon and minion become "we." I am moving to San Diego.

Obsidian has found his crush. The encounters become more severe. This has become more than just about the impact. There is wavelength. There is connection. I have found her... the one.

The armada sails again in February! Mr. Cave will be my first mate. 

I have found the perfect partner, a woman who practices ecstatic masochism. It's been one beautiful year.

S&M. That ampersand. It's important too. 

I will always have a fondness for owls. One, in particular, saw knives, instead of forks, in the road. And brewed the most wicked tea. She helped me understand the true meaning of slavery. She helped me grow as a sadist. And while I consort with vultures now, my hope is she found the happiness she deserves.

I snuck a peak in her medicine cabinet. Not a jar or tube of self-preservation to be found.

A certain roof beam is load bearing!  

Thank you, demented thing.

Today's work with the single tail went better than expected. A little frommage and a little frottage added to the experience as well.

I've always had trouble with the 'interests' list as it is presented here. I've tinkered with it anyway, still not satisifed that it's an accurate reflection. No matter. Through conversation, the details sharpen until, like a knife, they cut.

While the number 39 has a special meaning for me, it is no longer my age, even if it were listed such here on CM for the last few years. I'm 43.

The erudite among you might just think of it as four more lashes from a hegomon not quite ready to quit...

I've been having such fun with electrical tape... ask me how.

This just in: Ayn Rand is still a egomaniacal cunt...

I highly recommend Writer of O, a 2004 documentary film by Pola Rapaport. It reveals the true identity of Anne Desclos who wrote The Story of O (Histoire d'O) using the pseudonym Pauline Reage. It unfolds the fascinating story of the person behind one of most powerfully erotic pieces of sadomasochistic literature ever written. She wrote it to impress a lover. She did it out of love. Many believed a woman wasn't capable of writing "such a book." She proved them wrong.

I consider myself fortunate to be one who has found several friendships here with women who've enthusiastically let me bind, clamp and beat them. owl was the latest. And I miss her. Not all in my vanilla universe know of my capacity to be a sexual sadist. And like all who are the keeper of deep secrets, the burden of trying to keep two worlds from colliding sometimes becomes too challenging. I've tried to turn my back on kink; made the effort to deny this side of me. But it never leaves, the longings, the needs that everyone here are all too familiar with. Desire can be supressed, true, but like any lava, it eventually makes its way, molten hot, to the surface. All this to say I'm conflicted. Still sadistic, but conflicted.

This profile remains as one of the only ways some from the past can find me. Speak. I'll reply. And I continue to seek conversations with any and all on the subject of our lifestyle, especially those, like me, whom only come out at night. I deeply enjoy conversations of all flavors: intellectual or thoughtful all the way to demented fantasies ripped from the darkness and filled with our most depraved desires. "Everything is permitted," said William Burroughs while eating a Naked Lunch.

The slave escapes her bonds
to find a stronger set of chains
--anonymous

Highlights from today's meeting with who? who? who? Those wide (Wide!) spreader bars, the purple restraints, the new hair color -- fiery hennah red, and a point of inspiration in the form of the quote above.

I've been challenged and inspired by recent activities with a particular slave. So much so that I find that my parliament of owls requires but one member. (She will get that, even if you don't.) That is to say I'm no longer seeking in-the-flesh meetings.

I am, however, always open to conversations with others in the lifestyle about subjects near and dear to our sick little hearts. Find it hard to discuss or fantasize with others in your life who "don't get" your darker side? I'm also someone who has to compartmentalize and keep secret my dark from the vanilla side. You'll find me a non-judgemental and, I hope, provocative sadist, er..., conversationalist.

An entertaining term of use with a sexual appliance I met here on CM has come to its end. What a pleasure to find someone who could share and enjoy similar feelings and desires with relation to sadism and degradation play. My desire was simple: the it (she) suffer well. it complied beyond all my expectations. The experience has left me energized and excited about other possibilities here.