Playing House

I was glancing through photos on my friends profiles. What I saw were 20 somethings standing around applying pinchy things, playing with ropes and using hitty items on each other.

Most were smiling with slight dazed expressions. Like little Janie holding her mothers giant cooking ladle, or Tommy holding his daddies' grown up hammer they all seemed adolescent.

Sometimes, and I'm sure this is why I don't hang out at "the apartment" much any more, it feels like we're playing house. As if in our childlike basic understanding we are acting out what we see without fully comprehending the depths of the situations we are creating. In many ways this is healthy and normal because everyone there is on the same level.

For me however, it strikes a hallow cord. Not to say I'm more advanced or I find no purpose in their play. It definitely helped me learn some things about myself, the safety of equals. However, the lack of realness seems to cheapen the experience. I'm left wanting more and I know it cannot be offered there.

I find myself responding to it like I do video games. Becoming bored and attempting to find the most creative ways to die. I get bored, I say 'no' because I know they won't make me. Honestly I become a brat. How can that be a good thing?

So, for now I make friends, chat and wait. I've been doing it for a while and will continue for the time being. I can find happiness in that. After all I will one day miss this.

Ponderings

As a submissive I wish only to please, to learn what is expected of me and do it properly. I wish to avoid reproach and seek the smiling approval of a Dom.

But I also enjoy pain. I don't seek it out intentionally (unless playing for that purpose) and if threatened with pain I would do what is necessary to avoid it.

The balance of a hypothetical relationship with a Sadist seems to me to be a challenge. To receive the pain I would want, I would have to resort to being a "bratty sub" a sort of topping from the bottom. This idea makes me cringe.

Granted in the beginning there would be plenty of punishments as I would be learning. However, eventually I would learn and it would no longer be necessary.

Perhaps the Sadist would select things he knew I would be unable to change. Things about myself that are inherent. Still I would strive to stop these things. I could see mentally beating myself up about it. Though, that too would be another form of pain.

Such an odd balance that would be- to want approval, love and hate my failings and need but attempt to avoid pain.

Curious.

The Merit of Communication

I have on several occasions played together with my submissive friend and her Sadist husband. The experiences I've had with them have always been extremely informational and I've always seemed to be an observer with mild participation.

A few weeks ago we were all sitting in the living room trying to decide on what to do. I had no concept of what I wished to experience and encounter so I gave little input. The evening was, needless to say, mild.

This evening was entirely different.

When he came home from work he walked in to see my friend and I completely naked with our noses buried in a book containing photos of 'how to' on shibari. We had twisted rope all over the floor and were laughing so hard we could barely tie knots properly. I can't even imagine what that looked like. But, I think it was amusing because he had a slight smirk on his face.

I like shibari.

Upon arriving home from dinner we were asked what we wanted to do that evening and we produced a list previously written containing the things we both wished to eventually experience.

With the aid of a negotiation class taught a few weeks ago, I found my confidence in the negotiation process that I am eternally grateful for having learned. I was honest and straight forward and allowed room for creativity and surprise on his part.

The scene contained an quite a bit of pain involving canes, paddles and nipple clamps. I was also instructed to cane my friend and felt humiliated as piece of furniture.

At some point I reached that "What the (insert expletive here) am I doing?!" moment and began to seriously question my ability to make good decisions.

We were challenged and told that whomever whimpered first was the loser. Needless to say I'm a pussy. The hardest part was verbally acknowledging that I was indeed the loser.

Later, we were on our backs side by side and bound together as he hovered a burning candle over us. The tension of unpredictability as to where the wax would fall was overwhelming. He asked us questions throughout and in my simpletons mind I was completely unable to follow the line of questioning or even respond to those questions asked.

Apparently I like wax too.

Afterwards, as we were cuddling on each side of him and I was through crying he made a comment I found interesting. We were discussing what we enjoyed and he said that he liked how different our reactions were. He mentioned my expression and how interesting the slight smile and pain mixed together on my face was.

All I could think was "Hm" and felt happy inside.

The Game

Last evening I had the opportunity to play a game that involved receiving pain until I could no longer 'ask' for more. At that point the pain would be directed to my bound friend. And vice versa.

We were bound together back to back. As the ropes were applied, it created that floaty drugged feeling I always seem to have whenever they touch my skin.

During the scene, as my friend was receiving the pain I couldn't, every strike sent shivers through my whole body like an aftershock.

There was a small pile of instruments that were used and as it dwindled to none I felt a sigh of relief flow through me. When the inflicter walked over to where the pile had been, he hesitated. Slowly he turned around with fingers splayed and looked devilishly at the simplest of tools, his hand. I have to admit I was glaring.

Throughout the experience I felt determined to take the brunt of the pain knowing I could handle more than my friend. Surprisingly I handled much more than I thought possible for me. I loved the challenge and felt completely alert but 'gone'.

When the scene was through and the ropes were off I had a deep trembling in me that I'm not quite sure was visible to those who watched. Thinking on it now- I still tremble.

My friend glanced at me and with the simple comment, "You were such a trooper" I fell into sobs. It was liberating and cathartic as the tears flowed easily. The Dom gently smoothed my hair and rubbed my shoulder, my head resting on his standing torso. I felt calm and deeply at peace.

I later saw a photo of my face immediately after having been struck and the expression fascinated me. My distant smile and a pain filled grimace seemed to coexist nicely.

There were oh so many levels to my experience.

That night, when I arrived home, I fell int a deep sleep that I haven't felt since childhood.

The Mighty Pen

Last night I was intently listening to a guest speaker at a group I was attending. I was incredibly engrossed in the conversation. When, out of the blue, the gentleman reached over without looking at me and pulled a pen I was gnawing on out of my mouth and placed it on the table.

"Wha..what?" was my first thought. I went completely calm and then my mind ran like a wild banshee. Was it how I was holding the pen? Was I distracting? Was I socially inappropriate? etc. etc. Eventually I settled on - pen in mouth = bad.

A few seconds later I was once again engrossed in the conversation. Eventually my mind wandered when I was trying to decide weather or not I could pick up the pen to take notes. Suddenly I became aware that I was chewing on my fingers. I was so embarrassed that I reached for my beverage to occupy my fidgety hands, and I froze. I realized in that moment that everything I did absently, was focused on my mouth.

Smoking, lip gloss, eating, drinking, my fingers, chewing random stuff, the popsicles I always have in the freezer, sucking my thumb till I was almost 11, always having gum handy, my obsession with fellatio etc.

The image of the Buddhist reference to individuals who are always searching and are constantly dissatisfied flashed in my mind. They call them 'hungry ghosts' and describe them as beings with enormous stomachs who only have pin hole mouths. They are always ravenous and always searching, never satisfied. Was I a hungry ghost?

Maybe I have an oral fixation. Well, maybe more than maybe. What does that stem from? Is it wrong? Gah! My mind went nuts. Then I thought- Maybe I'm over analyzing.

Damn Pen.

The Challenge

Being a single submissive is so difficult at times.

I feel like there are two parts of me. The innocent sub waiting to be led and protected. And the watchful observant mother looking for that right Dom for my submissive side. I'm like a new mother who knows nothing and has no idea what I'm doing.

I have a deep sadness inside of me that feels the profound lonely. I watch, talk and learn and still that 'one' never shows. In some ways I know exactly what I want but fear that I am too limiting in what I seek.

I am freely open about myself and my inner desires yet I stay separate, I hold back. Still, how would I know if the right Dom were standing right in front of me staring me in the face?

Other times I feel like I am too serious about it. I am told regularly to stop looking and enjoy the moment and I can appreciate the merit in that statement. After all it has only been a month. I enjoy the people I have met and feel a connection with most. I have had a glorious time playing and learning.

Still the sadness is there. I know myself well enough to know that this is a passing phase and that I will be back to my jovial self, laughing and teasing.

I suppose this is the best lesson in patience, something I greatly lack.

What I've Learned

These are the things I learned about myself in the last month.

Floggers put me to sleep

Canes frighten me

Paddles excite me

Rope on my skin is the fastest way to put me in sub space

Being bound tightly makes me feel clam and infinitely secure

Biting is wonderfully intense

Girls taste yummy, feel soft and know what they're doing

Ginger is very nice

Punishment both physical or mental brings me to a deep calm

Avoid public play at all costs but secretly love it

Feel happy when I can't sit well the next day

Enjoy surrendering to a hand gently applying increasing amounts of pressure to my throat

Love people

Obsessed about anything to do with a cock

Going more than a week without play is no bueno

Don't like to argue because I might win

Feel most comfortable kneeling on the floor

Zippers are love/hate thing...

I wonder what this month will bring