themountainhill

About the Hill that was a Mountain

21/2/24 never have I ever

I have never been spanked. 

Of course I do have some RL experience, mostly bondage, but spanking and impact play was  never on my menu.

Do I want it to be?

It's everywhere, impossible to ignore. The idea of earning a spanking, getting bent over, a hand on my naked behind, those cheeks turning  rosy then red,  is a major turn on. The intensity of the stimulation, mental connection and vulnerability of the position, who wouldn't want that?

Yes, I did try. Many years ago. After I was bruised in an ugly way and left with a weird feeling. I never tried again. Something obviously did not work and I feel unspanked.

But all those years later, I'm still thinking about it.

No, I'm not looking for offers. Please don't. It will not happen anyway. This is not the way my mind works…

I can't help but wonder,

Anybody on here fluent in Latein (no, not Italian) and English, who has a thing for a poem called "Before the beginning of time "?

I'm grateful for the slow driver in front, cause I can pretend to be faster.

(And as usual, that's true for a lot of things)...

My heads so clear on this, but not my belly. I miss things, I never thought I could or would.

Sometimes I wonder if they even speak the same language.

... THIS TOO SHALL PASS...

About the Hill that was a Mountain

14/2/24 no clean slate

Over the years I have had my share of breakups. Some were short online relationships that left me incomprehensibly broken for more than a year. Others were nasty real life breakups that weren't even worth mentioning, if the breakup hadn't been so nasty. Some exes I'm still friends with, -I even got invited to their wedding as 'the girlfriend they didn't marry”, which was and still is fine:)

After all these years I still don't know why some relationships are so hard to process. Maybe it's the amount of control I have given, the intimacy of the shared dreams or the intensity of the play.

Funnily it nearly always starts the same way: A playful interaction turns serious and then deadly. With every passing second positions harden more and giving in becomes less and less likely. Finally stupid insignificant details become irreconcilable differences. 

Turns out in relationships there are no isolated events. Every interaction is laced with reminders of the shared history. And suddenly you pay the price for all the insignificant things you thought you could omit safely.

I want to end this with a quote from the song Try by PInk:

“Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame

Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned

But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die

You've gotta get up and try…”

About the Hill that was a Mountain

9/2/24 hero

Some profiles just scream that Bonnie Tyler song  “Holding out for a hero”

"Where have all the good men gone

And where are all the gods?

Where′s the streetwise Hercules

To fight the rising odds?

[...]

I need a hero

I′m holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong, and he′s gotta be fast

And he′s gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero ′til the morning light

He's gotta be sure, and it′s gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life"

*Smile* Not every hero presents as a hero. But I am sure, with the right magic even the nondescript bookworm will be all the hero you need…

About the Hill that was a Mountain

7/2/24 juggle well

Today I had a totally basic revelation. All my BDSM relationships had two sides. One side is structural, where all the fun is: The D/s, the giving of control and the thriving on abuse. The other side I like to call raw, because there is nothing but basic human beings. No role, no hierarchy, no submission or dominance. Just two absolutely equal humans. My rights and wants count as much as his. My limits are sacred, as are his.

Both relationships are in close contact. When the raw side is failing, the structural side will wither. (People like to refer to trust issues then). When the structural side flatlines, the raw side is pointless, as you can only talk about the weather so much.

But be careful, both relationships follow different rules. While the pushing of limits in the structural part can be fun and desirable, disrespect of limits in the raw will not be tolerated. 

About the Hill that was a Mountain

3/2/24 bottomless

I honestly don't know what it is: a gesture, a smile or a pause. Or the right tone at the right time. The result is always the same. Something in me clicks. Then the clear sense of self in the center of my belly and me wants and me wishes fade away. What is left is raw and a bottomless pit. 

*Smiles*  What happens then is not for the public eye.

About the Hill that was a Mountain

3/2/24 clickety click

When I started my BDSM Journey I read a lot of books about the lifestyle and safety. Sane, safe, consensual was the mantra I picked up and still cling to. Sanity is not an overrated skill. 

Among the pages I also found a lot of advice on what to look for in a dominant. Funnily I don't remember reading on what to look for in a sub, but I admit to being biased here.

The list of what to look for in Dominants varied depending on the author and their personal preferences. Pretty much all put in trustworthiness which is a no brainer. What struck me as funny in the beginning was “confidence”. Then I experienced the non confident Dominant asking too many questions and worrying about too many details, - if we ever got that far…

So now I concur: Confidence is important.

But most important on my list is a brain that clicks with mine. Why else should I feel the need to submit and why else should they crave that?

About the Hill that was a Mountain

31/1/24 Superman's Song

Thomas Edison was the father of the light bulb and became the icon for having ideas.

Nutcase Tesla lived amidst pigeons and was obsessed with the number 3.

Practical Edison got put on two US stamps. For his progress with photographs and light bulbs or his dirty fighting technique in the war of currents.

Tesla died impoverished fearing earrings and pearls. But without his alternating current the light bulb in your home might not work.

The shiniest profile does not have to be the best match:)

About the Hill that was a Mountain

28/1/24 how to read a profile

Wouldn't it be nice to read a sarcastic piece about some of the lines you can find in profiles? There are so many profiles to choose from. So easy to point out the lies and highlight the tells, like…

Never be blinded by the assurance of discretion as this is what will be expected from you. He'll never tell his wife, cause she holds the bigger part of the family money. 

Also never be impressed by 20 years or more of experience. With no further explanation it might refer to one glorified incident and a follow-up of 20 years of dreaming. You have no chance to ever recreate that.

STOP

There is no need to lash out insults. All the cravings here are real. Just the outlets might differ. And sometimes that's a blessing.

About the Hill that was a Mountain

23/1/24 no matter

Today I want to write about submission

I love it, when it feels like this:

The beginning is hazy. There probably was a comment or look or just the right tone of voice and I start falling. I exhale and a tingling spreads from my belly button all over my tummy. I feel warmth at my core, taking me home. There are no thoughts of resistance, all sense of self has melted away. I am flying, securely held. 

Lastly the tingling blows over my chest, brushes over my  breasts and awakens my pussy. But no, that*s never important then.

But I also love it, when it feels like this:

This one takes me by force, quickly without hesitation.  While the slow melting feels warm and liberating the sudden force feels raw and out of control. My need to submit hits me raw, I grasp and the all encompassing realization of my missing options is brutal. There is no nice tingling or warmth, just knowledge of my place, - not in control, at mercy. All senses are awake, my heart is pounding, my body is on flight so I stumble or stutter. But in the end I always come back to the same place. Someone else is holding the strings.

 *smiles* The cuming is kinda violent then…

About the Hill that was a Mountain

20/1/24 again

I am an xxx. Here, I said it out loud. It still tingles all over my body and darkens that already crimson blush on my cheeks. Freshly woken beasts are hungry and this one leaves me with an insatiable need to venture further and succumb.

A few days ago a ton of new sensations and feelings exploded in my head. Every part of my body hung up, my brain stopped working and I wasn't functional. I spent hours sitting on the bed, panting, shaking, not able to move forward or back. Finally when I was allowed to cum, it was a quick, nearly technical experience, not the desperate raw release I would have expected with the depths of my craving. Instead I came nicely and controlled. Clean. My brain regained control and started functioning. So far, so good.

But I'm not done yet. I still want that dirty, dark, all consuming release. Memories of the sensations and visuals linger. Even days later, still sore, I can't wait to do it again. Just more. And harder. And deeper.

Now I wonder: Am I just a slut for this or am I developing a fetish?

You've got mail

Before joining, I got told about this site. About the toxicity, the fakes, the emails, the weirdos, the lies. 

Yes, I see that, it's all there.

The constant matches. The fake profiles, The aggression and the business interests.

Toxic! Definitely.

But I like to cultivate my selective perception. So I chose to focus on the stories,  the  longing and the cravings. And the dreams we are all chasing.

So thank you guys for all the emails. They made me feel welcome. I still will only answer sparsely. As I stated before, I’m not here to find a play partner. Valuable annotations will be processed and enjoyed though:)

PS: if this is a place you can be anything: Be kind.

About the Hill that was a Mountain

17/1/24 silence

Yesterday I had a revelation about something I like. There’s even a word for women, who like what I like. I don’t like the word, nor the connotation, but it describes me. In fact, it might just have been created for women like me.

This is as raw as it gets. This is unprocessed. Right now I have nothing to say.

About the Hill that was a Mountain

16/1/24 on the road

All of this started, when I saw pictures of bound women. They were immensely beautiful and extremely erotic. I loved the highly suggestive poses that granted easy access and the thus helpless and easily abuseable girl. 

So my first encounter with kink was plain old bondage, mostly ropes and leather. Submission wasn't on the menu. What for? I could lay down, get bound and feel all the sensations while I imagined being used and taken advantage of in all possible ways. 

Submission and what it could be I discovered later. I still remember the first time I called someone Sir. For a long time it was agreed that we could do what we did without any protocol nonsense. Honorifics were negligible, at least for me. One day he insisted on a proper address and I succumbed. I came hard, when I bowed my head, felt the blush creep up my cheeks and took the first step down that road. “Yes, Sir.” That was when I learnt about mental orgasms. The right words at the right time can do so much more than a vibe.

That hasn't changed. Even today just addressing a dominant properly puts me back on the road, towards that bottomless pit at the end of the rainbow.

About the Hill that was a Mountain

15/1/24 To click or not to click

I’m hetero. That's neither good nor bad, just is. 

So every male I meet in real life (business or private) gets accessed by age, visuals, behavior, pheromones, language and prolly a lot of other things I'm not aware of. The result is instant and usually very clear: “Yes, might click” or “No, not really”.

But accessing sexual orientation is difficult in real life and first impressions might be wrong. Especially in business, some people absorb their professional function so fully, every assumption I make is wrong.

So I have decided incorrectly because of that.

Online it's not that different. I honestly don't know what exactly gets transmitted through the wire, but usually I know instantly if I want to submit or not. But of course, even though we all don't lie, not every word is true. Sometimes people are so lost in their desires, cravings and dreams their connection with real life reality is broken.

Yes, I have dedicated incorrectly because of that, too. 

And sometimes there is no click. Just a feeling of respect and friendship. Please, don't exploit it by adding sexual interaction at all cost. There is beauty in friendship and companionship. And it might be safer, too :) 

About the Hill that was a Mountain

14/1/24 WTF Blowjobs

Blowjobs are the little black dress when it comes to chat. Correspondingly I have had more cocks in my mouth than I care to remember. Of course I know the drills, the keywords, - wide eyes that have to look up pleadingly, lips that close tightly around the head, warmth and wetness encumbering that cock of yours…

Afterwards, most of the play partners said “thank you” and went to bed happy. 

Goal accomplished. I still hated it.

I don't know what created the belief that a blow job was a good way to get acquainted.  Goddamn, I can’t talk with that thing in my mouth and if you consider those gargled noises and my desperate gasps for air enough to get to know me, you might want to rethink.

For pretty much every dominant male I have met till now, it was unthinkable to forgo a blowjob. Of all the unspoken rules in BDSM that surely is one of the most widespread. Blow jobs are a minimal requirement. While it is widely accepted that we all are different and might not share the same kinks, that tolerance stops with blow jobs.

Yes, I do give blow jobs. I do it because I have submitted to a special person, who is worth it. But the blow jobs never were a given. Like my submission or slavery.

Maybe that's something to think about:)

About the Hill that was a Mountain 

was the name of my journal on bondage.com. I wrote about discovering my submissive side as a privileged, well educated, young woman. Now, more than 20 years later, I'm back. The hill was never just a hill and the mountain only got higher and steeper as my controlled submissive yearnings turned into flirts with slavery. 

As a young adult even the idea of a woman on top, blindfolds or handcuffs (of course something vanilla approved with pink fluff around them) seemed kinky and taboo. But the world unfolded and the rabbit hole deepened. Labels and definitions offered guidance in the poorly lit caves and finally that independent young woman settled for “not dominant”  and “prefering to get told”.

Life happened and that once revolutionary “I prefer to get told'' became as mundane as the fluff covered handcuffs. Rabbit holes can be extraordinarily deep and confusing, nearly impossible to explore in a lifetime. Being told is one thing, asking permission just a logical consequence. And with that revelation Pandora's box opens again.

I'm not looking, I'm sufficiently bound. So if you find a grain of gold or salt in this, enjoy:) If not, I might find my nugget of gold in writing.

13/1/24