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After nearly 7 years, I've decided finally to go back and wrap my arms around what's always given me the most pleasure.
I used to be into mops, crosses, blades and electro. Am I still? That's what I'm trying to find out.
What I'm currently looking for, outside of what everyone is looking for (love), is to get back to the place where I've always felt the most comfortable; on the receiving end of instruction.
The friction of wills rubbing. Being told where to lick. What to touch. The jerk on my collar. Lashes. Blood.
You know what I mean. The stuff that makes people like us look forward to getting out of work every day.
I ultimately want someone to share this with long term, but will be happy to take some temporary steps to help me get back up to speed so I can better please.
I also need to figure out if I'm still a switch. Having not had the opportunity to dominate in a long time, I'm not even sure any more.
At the very least, I'm looking for more insight into the world I've come back to. Feel free to message me any time as long as you've got something intelligent to say.
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What gets you out of bed in the morning?
This morning, for me, it was because I was excited to go to the dentist.
The reason that this does it for me so much is two-fold:
First, I'm progressing through some much-needed dental work, and I'm almost finished. Having something half-completed drives me crazy, and one step closer to having it off my mind is one step less I have to worry about.
Secondly, and probably not so odd to you folks, is that I've developed a sorta-kink about going to the dentist's chair.
Now, I used to hate going to the dentist. I'd work myself up into an anxiety-laden frenzy about sitting there and have someone shove stuff in my face. I was so stressed over it that I couldn't even sleep the night before I went, making the anxiety so bad that by the time I got there I was literally vibrating with nerves.
Then, I switched dentists. I went from an old, angry couple who would talk about making dinner while they were shoving a drill into my face to a young, amiable guy with an insanely hot staff of hygenists.
That's when I started to change my outlook a bit, and drew some interesting parallels to all the bondage play I used to do.
Commands?
"Stay still." "Move your tongue." "Bite down gently - GENTly."
Pain?
The first prick of the needle as the hyper-dose of novo starts to do it's job, forcing your body to be as distant from the pain as you are mentally.
An abundance of discomfort and near-agony in alternating spurts as the novocaine startes to recede it's tide.
When it stops? Bliss.
Mental Bondage?
Tons. You're basically a brain trapped inside of an immovable body for two hours or so as you're getting a crown build-up.
That, and you're forced to listen to some of the most godawful music created this side of Yanni. It's almost certainly an international law that dentist offices must have the radio set to Lite Rock 98.X.
Beautiful women?
God yes. Offering you release from drowning in your own spit, or offering your dried-out tongue water when it seems that it might just split.
They play the Good Cop to the dentist's Bad Cop.
Release?
The rush of blood to your head when you finally get to pull out of that rigor mortis'd state in the chair is damn-near orgasmic.
Cost?
Tons. Ever had to do a dentist procedure without insurance? I'll take Elliot Spitzer's hooker over that any day of the week.
It's all in whatever prism you choose to view things, I've decided. If I can take getting $16,000 worth of dental surgery/manipulation into a damn-near sexually gratifying experience, I can view anything positively.
-A
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Well, I'm back after such a long hiatus into "normalcy" that I think my collar's rusted.
I don't know how many, if any, of you have tried this, but I gave up what I thought was "self-destructive behavior" so I could try and fit in a little bit better with my contemporaries.
Never mind that a lot of my contemporaries went to the same Sci-Fi/Bondage conventions that I did. It was just that I was the only one who really took it a few steps too far at Fantasm every year.
Chained to a Roman cross being beaten into orgasm by a room full of lesbians? Being spanked in front of hundreds of people to be an "example" in a seminar? Being drug around in a kitty role-play by a beautiful woman in a corset all night?
Yummy. I had the greatest time there, but the hardest time explaining my kinks to my friends and my lover at the time. None of them got them or wanted to accept them.
So, in the name of keeping the peace (and what I thought was the woman I was going to marry) I lovingly put my kinks in the closet, next to my collar and cuffs.
Over the years, I'd revisit them with whatever incarnation of "my girl" I had at the time...but inevitably, she didn't know what she was doing. The experiences were unsatisfying, and the props and hopes were frustratedly thrown in the closet to be dusted over and forgotten.
But they never were - always, there was a nagging voice in the back of my head every time I came to the end of a relationship saying things like:
"Maybe if she were just a tad more willing to cut/whip/break me, this would have worked out better."
Sex was always dull, even when it was saturated with love. Something was missing. Some key ingredient that I could almost quantify, but could never really put into words.
The other day I was cleaning out my closet and stumbled across my collar and kitty ears. I held them to my chest lovingly, wistfully. I snapped the chain once, and I shivered.
God, I miss that sound. The feel of inevitable pain/pleasure that usually followed.
And at once, I could name all the things that I'd been yearning for: Submission. Switching. Lashing. Mopping. Bandaging. Wax. Pain. Love.
Pain. Love. I'd been living so long with the latter, I'd forgotten that I needed the former for contrast. Balance. Yin and Yang.
And then I realized:
"Holy shit. I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I need help, and I'm sure as fuck not going to get that around here."
And that's how I found "here."
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