Tag Archives: fetish

BDSM and Sex

I’ve seen a couple Dominants write about this topic, but rarely is it discussed from a submissive’s point of view.
Sex and BDSM are two things that are often closely linked together, and it’s little wonder as to why. We, especially submissives, tend to dress up in revealing clothing (or no clothing at all). We are seen as sexy, sensual creatures. BDSM is still seen as a rather taboo thing, and taboos in and of themselves tend to have an erotic twist to them.
But the reality is, there is so much more to BDSM and kink than sex, and often sex can manage to not play a part in the equation at all.
I am a rather sexual being. I have been since my early teens. I once explained to a partner that I will very rarely say no to sex when a partner is interested, even if I’m exhausted or low on spoons or some such thing. However, it’s hardly something that is required for me to be in a relationship with someone.
A main dynamic in all of my relationships is some sort of power exchange. For some, like my relationship with my Ace, that exchange is incredibly fluid. In the span of five minutes I can go from calling him sir to him calling me ma’am…and that’s just how we work.. For others, like Ryan and Chris, they are always my Daddy and my Sir. I willingly always hand over a certain degree of power to them, in different ways, and it pleases both the top to receive the power and the bottom to give it, immensely.
Chris and I haven’t had a sexual relationship for over a year now. We started out VERY sexual (honestly, I can understand the appeal of wanting to fuck like rabbits with someone half your age :P) and there was a time when it was a rocky transition between our sexual relationship and just having a D/s relationship. It’s not to say that I didn’t miss all the fucking..I mean..for the love of godde he managed to fuck through a condom at one point he was pounding me so hard..and that was wonderful. But there are other things that can be even more wonderful than that
The power exchange was still there..it was just that when we played we didn’t fuck after. If anything, the lack of sex meant that intensity was redirected elsewhere. I was even more devoted when we were in scene, even more willing to take pain for him, to learn new tricks and positions to please him. Our dynamic has still mange to keep its edge after two years, it’s just that the edge has changed. There are times when I ask for reassurances that he’s still attracted to me, and he is quick good at communicating that with kisses, and ‘sexy angels’ and a hand on my ass at times. There is still spice, still za za zoo, and yes, it can still be VERY sexy.
I didn’t honestly know how sex with Ryan was going to work the further down the DDlg rabbit hole we went.. if we were going to engage in dark age play or not. I didn’t know, personally, if I would be comfortable letting my Daddy ‘violate my princess parts’ when I’ve mentally regressed to a two year old..
Yes, we go there. And yes, it is naughty as fuck and we love every second of it. But what gets me wet starts far before fucking.
Saturday, Ryan and I went to Flash at the Citadel. I dressed up as his little fruit bat for the Halloween party; made pretty wings and all and wore a onesie for a bit that he had gotten for me that was a bat with wings and all (IT’S SO FLUFFY). After a bit of socializing and a wee bite of food he led me to a cross, stripped me out of what was not safe to cut off, and tied me to the damn thing so I couldn’t run away.
It was NOT an easy scene. We played for over an hour, staring with knife play slicing off my body stocking and ending with a curry comb slicing open my ass and leaving beautiful marks and drips of blood in its wake. In between there was a metal cane that I have a love/hate relationship with, wooden canes that make me yelp, a meanie stick that terrifies me, and a foam bat that makes fantastic sounds when slammed against my ass. And of course, Daddy’s hands.
But, as much as the pain and adrenaline that follow are wonderful at times, those were not what kept me up on that cross for an hour. What kept me up there were the moments when Daddy would put down the mean, wrap an arm around my chest or a hand around my throat, and growl in my ear,
“You can take it for Daddy? Can’t you?”
“Are you still with me, kitten? Can  you take more for Daddy?”
“You are doing sooo well, lil love. I’m so proud of you. I’d like to do a little more. Can you do that?”
Always that asking. THAT is what sates me. That is what keeps me going.
Can you do this for me, little one? Can you take this, not for you, but because it pleases me to do this to you? Can you serve me in this way?
Absolutely, yes.
And taking what is given to me, what my partner asks of me to take, will nine times out of ten be even more satiating to me than a good fucking, as was the case on Saturday night.
Aftercare was very much needed after our scene. Normally I bounce back pretty quickly. Within 10-20 minutes I may still be cuddly, but I’ll be chatty and smiling and goofing around. I was so sated, so sore in the best of ways, that I just wanted to cuddle and sleep. My ass was so raw I had to wear panties to protect the couches from my blood (…mmm….more please, Daddy), and the best feeling in the WORLD after such a hard and long beating was curling up in Daddy’s arms and letting my eyes fall closed, knowing he would wake me if he needed me. Knowing I was safe. I didn’t want more. I didn’t want to rile energy to climb on top and fuck him (even though it’s the citadel..that kind of thing is allowed, and sometimes encouraged). I just waned cuddles and kisses and a safe place to rest.
BDSM is so much more than sex. It’s trust, and constant learning, and knowing how much power to give to who and where to draw your lines. It’s understanding whose arms you truly feel safe sleeping in, and letting yourself go there when the time is right. It’s pushing your own personal limits in healthy ways, communication, thrills adrenaline, mind fucks. And yes. Sometimes sex.
But. Why would you want to focus on sex..where there is so much more?
Yours, ever exploring.
-Rene
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A Change in Title

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I have identified as a ‘submissive’ since I entered the public scene. It’s a catch-all term, a word that was the easiest way for me to explain the pleasure that I felt kneeling in front of Sir, of having someone I care for use me how he sees most fit and gaining pleasure from it. It was the easiest term to use as the flashing neon sign next to my Fetlife tag. “Use me. Please. For your pleasure and mine. Mark me. Claim me. Want me.”

For as much as I’ve played and explored, I clung to that title above all others. I’ve identified sides of myself that are little, masochistic, a wee bit switchy at times, hedonistic, damn slutty, and bratty to name a few… and it was easiest to just throw them all underneath the submissive umbrella. All were components of my service, and service meant submission, right? Different ways, different times, but everything I did was to serve my partners and bring them as much pleasure as possible, which in turn gave me pleasure. A great deal of it.

Very rarely are the right paths the easiest ones.

I am going to start with two short stories that seem unrelated, but then combine into one. One is that my primary has told me, from the beginning of our relationship, that regardless of whether or not we work out he’s determined to see me a better person as a result of it. He pushes me, not hard enough for me to ever come close to breaking, but hard enough that I question myself in a healthy way. If I say self-demeaning comments, usually out of complete reflex, he will catch me on it and ask me why I say that. He peels back layers I have safely hidden behind, my armor that keeps people from getting too close and knowing too much, and waits. Waits until I trust him enough to give him a straight answer which then unravels my behavior… And yes, I love him for it. I love him for his patience with me, for being understanding, and for being there to stop the negative spirals when it seems I’m falling too fast or too great.

And now, story number two. Not so long ago, Sir and I met a couple. We were at Master’s Den, one of my favorite events both for high protocol it is and because he doesn’t work..and so I get to play. Before Sir and I played, we watched this particular duo. The female, small yet incredibly mighty, took quite a lot from her Master in the exact opposite way that I do. I’m… vocal. Very. I will stay mostly still but I scream. She danced, and jumped, and wiggled, but remained silent. After their scene, Sir approached them both and asked permission to play with miss Small yet Mighty… Which led to a scene, and more scenes, and talk of photoshoots and friendships…

And thus, with a couple beatings, began a bit of a learning experience for me that I’m honestly still exploring. The couple have become fantastic friends, with an incredibly energy about them both individually and together. Watching them I was surprised at some of the similarities between their dynamic and my own… The fluidity they had between strict protocol one moment and laughter and giggles the next. The sassy playfulness. The respect all around when respect was due.

She was his slave. He was her Master. Two titles I had never considered in relationship to myself.. and yet…

I was always afraid of the label of ‘slave’. I was taught, early on, that slave’s were not allowed to say no. A slave gave up their safeword. A slave was used whenever, wherever, with nothing off limits.. As much as I’ve explored, and as much as I want to please, I do have limits.

…But I’ve also never let a man push my limits as much as James has. I’ve never trusted someone so completely to know my limits, and to listen to me when I express that we’ve reached one.

The lovely slave and I have met up a couple of times on our own and talked, about our relationships, our pasts, our current friendships..and the parallels continued to tweak in my mind an identity I had been so set on.. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know for sure.

And so, I did what I knew to do. I asked James.

We were driving back from an event earlier in the night..and I love those car rides, because we talk about everything from childhood road trips to future naughty plans to what he plans on doing once the car is in park… In the dark, uninterrupted, with no one else around and with a great night behind us, I asked the question that I had been asking myself for a couple of weeks.

“Do you think I’m a submissive or a slave?”

I got a raised eyebrow and a volley of questions back and forth as he searched for the origin of my question and why it was brought up. He answered some of my questions..and dispelled the last of my fears. Slaves, just like submissives, can say no. They can always stop it..and he will always respect my limits. And so, I asked again what my Sir thought I was.

“I don’t know.” Pause, a smirk, a raised eyebrow. “What are you?”

I didn’t think about my answer. I didn’t pause. I didn’t have to. It came out on its own.

“I am yours.”

He chuckled. “Well that answers that question, now doesn’t it?”

And it did.

Hello, my name is Rene. I’m a 24 year old kinkster living in the Bay Area. I enjoy submitting to people and playing in all manner of fun ways, from impact to sensation to fire and wax. I am polyamorous, though lean more to the realm of poly-play than poly relationships… I am a lover, a girlfriend, a little, a partner, a pixie, a squeaky toy..  And I am a slave. I am owned by an incredible man. I serve him happily.

As it was in the beginning, it is even more so now.

I am his.

And I am happy.

(A Long Overdue) Day 30!

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30) Is your need to submit being met? If not, or if your situation changed, do you think that you could continue in your life and still be happy/content if you were never able to express your submission in the way that feels best to you again? What makes submission special to you?

This is being asked to me after a night that is still making me smile. James and I went on a date last night. A simple thing. A bite to eat and time together. But not something I ever take for granted..  Something I am very, very grateful for.

There was a time when I struggled with being ashamed of what I was… for a variety of reasons. There was a time when Kane was ashamed to be attracted to me, to want me..and that made me extremely ashamed of myself. What was wrong with me that he didn’t want to be attracted to me? What I so repulsive?

After that finally ended, after I removed myself from a relationship too emotionally masochistic for me, I came to terms with focusing on myself for a while. I wasn’t interested in dating. Didn’t want a relationship. Didn’t want to have to put in the work when I was already working on myself and had finally gotten used to being completely on my own.

And then I run into James, quite on accident. I’ve seen him a couple times before then, but not on his own. Always in the Citadel, always with our friend Squeeks in his lap. They kissed a lot, and she wore his collar from time to time. I assumed that they were together.

They weren’t, I found out. He was very single. I was working on it. And it was finally okay for me to feel attracted to him. It was April. I hadn’t been under his hand since November, at Surrender.. and I wanted to be. I ended up on my knees in front of him, exploring pain and pleasure in a way I hadn’t before.

Are my needs being met as a submissive?

I am a greedy sub. I always want time with Sir. I’m happy when I’m with him… The world shuts up for a little while, and even if we’re stressing about life, the universe, and everything we have the time to talk to each other.. We have a confidant that isn’t going to squeal about every last little thing about our conversations. There are head pets, snuggles, kisses…spankings and scratches and bites.. Sometimes screams. And I love it all. I love the play, and I love just going out to dinner and talking…

My submission is a part of me.. I’ve said that time and time again in these entries. It is as much a part of me as my brown eyes or my curvy figure. I can’t change it about myself. If it wasn’t able to come out in serve to a person, as I thought was going to be the case for a long while, it’s going to come out in service to the community. I show up to quite a few events as-is, because the kink community has become my family out here. Just because a relationship begins or ends doesn’t mean my submission does the same.. A Top, a Sir, a Dom, or a Master do not make me a submissive. I make myself submissive. I own that identity, and it took me a damn long time to do it.

Thus far on my journey, I have no regrets. Although I gotta say, I’m kind of glad this is the last of the 30 days.. It will be nice to get back to the regularly scheduled programming (and allll the backlogged entries that I have saved). Thank you for putting up with my tardiness on the entries, as well as for reading my words at all.

More to come, as always, and as always I am yours

-Rene

Day 29

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29) Is pain or humiliation (spankings for example) a part of your submission? What is your relationship to it? Do you embrace it as a part of your submission, tolerate it as necessary or have some other type of relationship with it?

I feel like I’ve answered this already…

Yes, pain is part of my submission. My relationship to pain is…confusing for me. Because it’s new, it’s shiny, and it’s something that I never thought I would love.

It’s become, as weird as it sounds, its own type of love language. I love when James spanks me..because it’s not just the spanking. It’s that caress before. It’s when he knows just the right moments to check on me, where I need to see his face and have a hand in my hair before the beating continues. It’s that thrill of showing him just what a good girl I am and how much I can take.

I like pain.

I love when he doodles on my chest, carving beautiful designs in it with his nails. I love when he yanks my hair. I become a rag doll, pliant and compliant and a giant ball of need… I love love love love LOVE being marked up after all of this…

But I love all this with James.

My pain threshold is dependent on my Sir being close by and accessible. He’s in the same building, he’s administrating the beating, he’s helping, or he’s taking pictures.. Then I want to fly. I want to excel and pose and show off and show him just how much I can take. When he’s not nearby, or I can’t reach him… The safety blanket just buckles and I can’t perform.

I like pain, when it’s balanced by James’s protective energy. He hurts me, yes, but if anyone harms me he will protect me. I know that with absolutely certainty.. The community knows you don’t harm what is his. And I’m his.

Yours 29 posts later (ONE TO GO!!!)

-Rene

Day 28

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28) Has your submission ever let you down? Have you ever been criticized for your submission? Have you ever regretted being or feeling submissive in a moment or in a relationship? Have you ever looked back and realized you made a mistake and how did you handle your submission going forward from that.

We are human, submissives and Dominants. Sometimes we wish we weren’t. I know that there is a part of myself that always wants to be the BEST submissive possible, to please him more than anyone else has.

I am going to start this question off by answering the last part of it. I have never thought my decision to submit was a mistake. Never. It is as natural to me as breathing. It is a part of myself I shoved away for a very long time. I may make mistakes in that submission from time to time, but do I regret deciding to be who and what I am at any point in time? No. I am what I am. And to be honest, I love what I am. I have doubts about myself constantly…but not about my ability to submit or my skills as a submissive. It is the one place where I am completely sure of myself.

I had parts of my submission criticized, very early on. Very, VERY early on, back when Cal was still mentoring me. His girlfriend at the time decided that I was a threat to her, and my poor friend was so enthralled by the woman that he didn’t see for a long time just how much he was being manipulated. Every time I saw him, it was with her as well, so that we could never talk privately. At the time I was a little bit of a mess.. I was growing up, feeling those aches and pains of the first time you stand on your own two feet away from any outside help. I was scared, and just needed someone to tell me that it was going to be okay so that I could keep going. When we were alone, or when we talked privately, he reassured me that this was a normal part of growing up, and that this too shall pass and I would be okay. He would then list fifty thousand logical next steps that would short-circuit my panic button and make everything better. When I saw him with her, however… She noticed when I was upset and jumped at the chance to make it worse, telling me I wasn’t prepared to be in a relationship with someone of his age and experience, and that I should just move on.. She was right about the relationship, but I didn’t WANT a relationship, I wanted a teacher… She spent a good couple of months telling me I was a horrible submissive and would never learn to be one properly. Eventually I stopped talking to her and my friend, because I couldn’t fucking take it.

As for my submission letting me down.. The end with Kane. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t mine.. It was both of us stretching something out that should have been left behind and miscommunication all the while. He kept trying to tell me that he could no longer be what I needed… but he couldn’t find the words. He would try it gingerly, not fully wanting to let me go just as much as I didn’t want him to let me go.. And I misheard him time and time again. Every time he said “You deserve so much better.” I would go no no no. I don’t want better I want you… Subby mind was just too devoted to here Dominant. I loved being his. I loved wearing his collar… He gave me Disney. He gave me my first taste of feeling cherished, being someone’s princess… and I loved it. Letting go of that, even knowing that it was the right thing to do, was a heartbreaking process. Even then, it took me months to take off the collar. I felt at war with myself, pulling apart my day collar. I had to take it off myself because he didn’t have time to see me..but it felt horrible. It felt disloyal. I now understand why being properly released is so important. Because otherwise a submissive will eat themselves alive for doing something that they know is right but feels so wrong.

Phew.. Okay. That was a loaded one that brought up much emotional baggage… I’m going to go and pick out my dungeon outfit for this evening… Nothing like corsets and stilettos to make the night better.

As always, yours

-Rene

Jealous

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Jealousy is a thing.

I know there are some people who claim not to get jealous… There are also some that claim that if you’re poly you can’t get jealous.

The second one is bullshit, and I envy those that can accomplish the first. I can’t. I fully admit that I can’t, even with the poly element as part of my relationship.

James has one friend that is literally everything that I am not. Friend is a very loose term.. They’ve known each other for years and, as it often can be, it’s complicated…

I don’t mean the whole she’s everything I’m not as a dig against myself.. she just.. is.. While I’m a brunette and dark of features she is a blonde and fair. While I am compact she is tall and leggy, and while I have some extra curvage she is quite literally perfectly proportioned. It goes passed physical into the world of skills..  I was excited to show off belly dancing for James..until the first time I saw her move with a grace I just don’t have and went “nope!”. She is also rather skilled as deep tissue massage, something that helps James when he has a sore back that I just don’t know how to do right now.. She is outgoing while I take a while to warm up to people, and has no qualms plopping down in my boyfriend’s lap when I am incredibly skiddish about trying such a thing.. I am incredibly self conscious (especially recently… I can feel clothing being tight on me…) about my size.. I’m worried I’m too big to plop in his lap… and the thought makes me very sad. I want lap time too…

I digress. As I said, James has this friend who is everything I’m not. She is very sweet, very nice, and so for the most part I ignore the triggers she causes in me. I know it’s me, seeing my own inadequacies and girl brain, and that there is a reason he chose me as his primary. There’s a reason he keeps me. But that doesn’t help when the pretty leggy blonde is in his lap and I’ve been begging for lap time for a good month…

There is a routine to BaGG nights, one that I have fallen in to easily. The time before BaGG is my time with James. It’s when we snuggle, do very bad things in his car that could possibly get us arrested (tee hee), talk, and basically touch base before the hecticness of the night begins. Once we walk into Wicked Ground we can still snuggle and often play for the entertainment of ourselves and others, but that’s when the performance starts and I have to share him. Once we enter the club I know he will spend time with me when he can, but the performance continues. It only breaks when I need him… when something’s seriously wrong and I need that point of connection, of eye contact, of him to hold me for just a second or give me one sweet kiss to tell me everything is okay. Once that performance starts there is no stopping it, especially in the club when you add work mode on top of it. I know this routine, I know it well, and I don’t attempt to stop it. I love watching James work. He works his ass off and he’s got a damn good eye. I’ve even learned to love giving him material to shoot… I have a group of friends that I play with at BaGG. I love when he takes photos of me playing and I catch the smirk on his face as he clicks the shutter.

It’s a good routine, one that I don’t think to disturb for lap time or unnecessary snuggles when he’s focused… I play by the rules, afraid to break his focus or be too much of a pest. Afraid of the reprimands he may give. It can be hard, especially when BaGG is the only day that week I get to see him and that hour alone in the car together is the only in-person time I get with my boyfriend.

I am one of those people that finds physical touch to be incredibly healing. I’ve mentioned before that I am a tactile person. If I’m not touched enough, held enough.. Emotionally, I shift. I become more on-edge. Sometimes I don’t realize it.

The other night I got no time with James before BaGG. This happens sometimes, it’s life. Sometimes adulting gets in the way of kinky fuckery. The week before I had only gotten to see James at BaGG itself, and he had barely made it in time. There was no check-in, no snuggles… and the day had not been the easiest. The week had not been the easiest.

I didn’t quite realize how much it had effected me until I looked over and saw Leggy Blonde in a little outfit walking off with my boyfriend just when I had gone over to talk to him about something. I gave them a wide birth, and did what I tend to do when my friends are not at BaGG and I’m not otherwise occupied. I watched.

I watched her curl up in his lap.. Watched him hold her, nuzzle her. Watched them kiss. I was shocked by the amount of jealousy and hurt that I felt. We’re poly. It wasn’t as if this was breaking any rules.

…But this wasn’t play. This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t kinky fuckery, which we both get off on watching the other do.

This was intimacy. Something I can’t ask for once the performance starts, and something I hadn’t gotten much of with him lately. I fought the tears burning the corners of my eyes as I watched, half talking to the friend who had come down to sit next to me.

She, in turn, followed my gaze.

“He picked you, you know. She doesn’t have the girlfriend title. You do.”

That didn’t mean that the girlfriend title would have been denied to her if she had wanted to. I didn’t know. I don’t know their past. I haven’t asked. I’m too afraid that my girl-brain will self-combust and I will become an insecure mess no sir wants to touch, no matter MY Sir.

I could feel my hurt turning to resentment and anger. Before I did something based off of heat of the moment emotions that I would regret, I sent him a text telling him that we needed to talk.. that I needed to talk to him as his girlfriend, not his submissive.

It’s when communication breaks down that you’re fucked over jealousy issues.. And while James and I don’t have great amounts of time to discuss things, when we do sit and really talk we do well. We clear up a lot of miscommunications and issues and leave the conversation a lot lighter than when we entered it..

I entered the conversation pissed and hurt, angry that while I played by the rules someone he has a past with was getting the physical attention and intimacy I craved and, at times, begged for. I went back into the club a bit more reassured about my place. I understood why she was receiving such physical intimacy, and understood why he reserved such intimacy between he and I for when we were alone.. I know when the mask goes on, when the performer goes on stage, I should not try to pull him off. I wouldn’t want to. I love the man behind the mask and know when to watch him on stage, when to join, and when to be in the wings for the intermission.

That doesn’t mean I still don’t want physical attention while in the club.. and that doesn’t fully kill off my jealousy issues. She is still everything I am not. And I am still aching for more touch from the man I adore..

But I can see James doing what he can to squash those issues, as I try to work on the internal triggers in me that cause the issues I have in the first place. Neither of us shut down, which would be the easiest thing to do. We hear the other out. He’s got the patience of a saint with me when it comes to the feels, and it reminds me often how lucky I am to actually be in a healthy poly relationship.

Jealousy happens. We’re only human. It’s what you do when the jealousy spikes that matters.

Yours reassured,

-Rene

Day 23

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23) Is there anything about submission (yours or what you see in others) that you question, dislike or repels you? Was there a time you questioned or were resistant to your own submissive feelings?

I am a big fan of different strokes for different folks. However, there are limits to this. I believe in the safe, sane, consensual tenant of BDSM.. and while the sane part is up for debate, the safe and consensual are not.

The only time I have questioned another submissive is when they were going into truly unsafe situations… I had a friend at Bondage a Go Go when I started going early on who called herself a pain slut. In all reality she was a heavy bottom, but not a pain slut, and she pushed her body too hard to prove just how much she could take (because she wanted to be the best of all the subs… Subbies you know how this is…). To do this, she would eat AFTER bag and not have any food before, because she believed that it allowed her to take more pain. One night she did this and on top of this took several medications that left her not in her right mind, combined this with alcohol, and then went to go play… The partner she was playing with cut the scene short because they saw she wasn’t right, but it was one of the few times I have gone over and lectured another submissive, as well as her primary for letting her put herself in that situation.

I’ve also met many a young ‘sub’ that was “looking for her Christian Grey.” They are easy to spot in a dungeon setting. Usually younger, dressed to the nines in lingerie and brand new heels, walking around with a bit of a dear in the headlights look. These lost little ones me and a few other experienced submissives will sit down and talk to, and try to explain the difference between Christian Grey and real Doms. It’s why so many of us read the books, so we could know thy enemy and keep young, vulnerable subbies from getting hurt.

There is a difference between a submissive putting herself in danger because she is under some sort of influence (be it alcohol or some fictional character) and a submissive letting her Dominant push her. I have seen a couple scenes that have had me question whether or not an ambulance should be called. You sit, you watch, you wonder, but in those moments you know that an experienced submissive has not had alcohol or drugs before playing, because they want to be fully aware of their body and what is is going through. An experienced Dominant will be able to read their submissive’s body to pace the play out so that even if they’re pushing, it will be something they know that their submissive can take. And if something happens, if something gets pushed to far, everyone knows how to safeword, and will if they need to. You sometimes just have to trust that. And when you can’t, well, that’s what dungeon monitors are for.

You can’t always judge a book by its cover. James and I have made the dungeon monitors look up a few times, because he makes me howl. He will hit me hard enough that the sound of the crack will echo throughout the entire dungeon, and I in turn will scream like a banshee. He pushes me, and I let him push me. Everyone in that dungeon knows we’re experienced. The DMs have seen James for years in the scene, and while I haven’t been around for as long they know me as well. They trust that if I need to, I will red out. And I have in the past, with other partners.

As for my own submission… of course I’ve struggled with it. When my mother told me I could be anything I wanted to be I don’t think she pictured one of those things as someone who craved spankings, floggings and the phrase ‘good girl’. Strong, independent women are not supposed to want to kneel at their boyfriend’s feet.. I struggled most with something that has become one of my biggest kinks. The concept of being owned.

The collar. One of my biggest turn-ons is the thought that someone wants me enough, values me enough, that they want me to be one of their possessions. They want to own me. They will share, but I will be theirs to do with as they well. Coming to terms with wanting that, with craving that.. it took me some time. There is still a stigma to D/s, and to BDSM in general. It takes time to realize that the stigma is just something  you learn how to live with.. That it’s going to be part of your everyday life whether you want it to be or not.

It’s a matter of how you live with it that matters. I will never be ashamed of who and what I am. It has taken me a long time to get there, and I’ll be damned if I’m going back… But I’ve learned what to and not to share with people about who I am. Sometimes that makes me sad, that I can only be half of myself with people.

But then I rejoin my people… and I frolic in the dungeon. James makes me scream, and all is right with the world.

Yours, as always

-Rene

Day 22

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Day 22

Can you feel submissive without a dominant partner? If so, how does your submission express itself? If not, how do you handle your submission or submissive feelings?

My friend Cal is a Domly Dom. I’ve described him as being able to be spotted as Dominant from 100 feet away. This attribute may be heightened when his girl is kneeling at his feet or curled up in his lap, but standing on his own he reeds as Dominant. Those who aren’t in the scene may not know that he was a Dominant, but he would read as a domineering person in general, a take charge boss man that looks like he should be calling the shots.

The same can be said on the other end of the spectrum. My submissive tendencies don’t go away when I’m not with my Sir… and somethings this can be a really annoying thing…because I can’t control it.

When I am upset and around people I trust I become incredibly submissive. Most of my friends know that I like to sit on the floor when I cry, that I will apologize for every little thing (including apologizing so much) and that the easiest way to make my mood right is to order me to action. Tell me to do something so that I’m not focusing on my own melancholia.

My submissive side is strong enough and, ironically, dominant enough in me that it comes out, partner or not, and I am lucky enough to have people in my life that know how to handle me when this does happen. They are not necessarily Doms but toppy people that know what to do when I go subby.

I’m not necessarily one of those people that goes “Dom shopping” when I’m single, and I have been single in the scene before. I’ve mentioned before that I am a picky bitch when it comes to relationships. When I feel a need to formally submit but don’t have a Dominant in my life, I am lucky in that I have friends. Friendships in the scene…can be interesting. Some of my friends I go to dinner and drinks with… some of them beat my ass in a dungeon when I ask. It ends up not being in a sexual way, rather in a cathartic way. Their need to Dominate ends up as strong as my need to submit, and the play makes both of us feel better and more right in our own skin.

I’m one of those who is blessed and cursed with the fact that my submission never really goes away. I would like to think that has the ability to make me a damn good submissive to my Sir, and that he is proud to call me his, because it isn’t an act. It’s not a mask that I put on for an evening performance. It’s in me, same as my need to create. I love it, and sometimes I hate it.

Yours, subby as ever

-Rene

Day 20

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Day 20

Has your submission increased or decreased over time? Have you ever had to renegotiate your submission due to a change in your feelings or circumstance?

I wouldn’t say it has increased or decreased.. I would say it’s stabilized.

When Cal found me eons ago all he had to do was tell me that it was real for me to be all in. I had wanted it for ages… felt a need to submit that I couldn’t understand and couldn’t name at the time. I was one of those hopeless souls that clung to kinky novels and prayed that something, anything like that existed… And when it did I threw myself in full-tilt. So much so that I think even if Cal hadn’t had a significant other the mentor-ship would have ended. I wanted to swim in the deep end of the community when he was slowly dipping his toes back into the water.

I did… but perhaps not in the most healthy way. When Kane and I were together, we were basically 24/7. I would live at his house during the week while his wife was away and then go back to my place on the weekends. Certain things I loved.. I still love. I would have dinner waiting for him when he got home from work, along with me on my knees at the front door in lingerie. I would clean the house. He would leave me chores to do; exercise, do laundry, etc, and I admit weight wise that I was lighter then than I am now (and no I’m not happy about that dammit -_- But I’m a work in progress).

…I think we loved the fantasy of 24/7, but neither of us were ready to deal with the realities of it.. That eventually he would need to deal with the stress of a failing marriage, that I was too young realistically for him because he could never comfortably swallow that age gab… That I wanted children and he was past that age where that was going to be realistic.

It was a gradual shift. It started with me staying home two weeks and being with him for a week. Then five days. Then four.

Eventually the sleepovers stopped.. His life had become too hectic. There was too much stress at work to try to fit me in. And because he was my Dom, because I wore his collar, I trusted that it would all be okay. We talked about it all being okay. That I loved him and he loved me and that was all that mattered…

… This is surprisingly hard to write… It’s been about a year since things started falling apart. Since the downward spiral began.

I had to renegotiate the entire relationship in my head time and time again, not because I willingly wanted to and it was the healthy thing to do but because I had no choice… He was my Dom and my boyfriend. I had to trust that he was doing things for a reason at that it would all be alright. That eventually we would get back to Disney. In my head I explained away the way he treated me time and time again, something I’m incredibly conscious of now. Dominants are not gods, they are humans, and when they stop communicating they make very bad, very painful mistakes. Kane made a few. He is still my friend…but he very much shattered parts of me. That’s taken a while to heal.

The relationship with James is a different D/s dynamic than I’ve had before.. There is no label, bedroom only, 24/7, etc. I’m not in subby mode all the time. There are times when I am very much, and very happily, his girlfriend. And then he flips that subby switch. He can do it with a look, a tone, a glance, and I’m on my knees with my chest out and my back arched. It’s laced through everything for both of us..because kink is laced through our entire lives. What we do, how we both want to make our livelihoods, is saturated with the kink world, and rather than fight against it and try to create a separate persona we’ve both embraced it whole-heartedly.

Sometimes labels just don’t work.. When you remove some of them, you find the balance.

Yours playing catch up

-Rene

Please (A Request for Help)

A long time ago, I called myself an artist. My life was in the studio, covered in clay and content. The demons in my mind were quiet because I could express them through my hands. I was content. I was at peace. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Life gets in the way of artist dreams a lot. Student loans soon took priority over studio nights, rent payments becoming more important than food, no matter art supplies..

There are few people that I know that are brave enough to put their artist dreams first and try to live off of what they do.. and few people more talented than the stubborn brute I’m writing about now.

I have seen Michael go days without food in order to put gas in his tank so that he could drive to San Francisco from Napa (where he lives) for a shoot. He shoots at Bondage-a-Go-Go, an event at a club in San Francisco, every week where he will take any pictures anyone asks for, put them up for public use..and doesn’t get paid. He runs on tips for both that and Sinner’s Sanctum, a once-a-month club event in the North Bay. You can also find him shooting at parties at San Francisco’s Citadel, where debauchery is much encouraged..and also tips. Because, again, he doesn’t get paid for what he does.

The man goes above and beyond because he loves what he does. He stays up..and up…and up… putting social life and sleep on hold to edit shoots that have priority (even if it’s for trade and not for pay). He will overdraft his bank account to acquire the proper props requested for shoots, will spend days scouting for the perfect locations, and will put his body at risk (and often push it too far..stubborn bull) to get the perfect shots required.

In summary, the man is damn dedicated to what he does, often to the detriment of his own health, because he loves what he does that much. He doesn’t have much in the way of formal training, but he has what can’t be taught. A good eye and heck of a lot of drive… He reminds me what it’s like to love what you do so much that you live for it, that of course it comes before everything else.

Life gets in the way for people, even people as driven as Michael.. Maybe especially people as driven as him. And so I’m writing here, telling you what this man will go through to do what he loves, and saying that he needs our help and support. This talented man is in a bind, and knowing him he’s doing everything he can to get himself out of it. This means minimal food, driving only when he has to…because gas is an expensive thing…and just planning, and thinking and plotting. Setting up the next shoot. Seeing how on earth he can make what he needs to make the next shoot possible…

Help comes in the form of us, internet peoples. I get that everyone is pinching their purse strings right now. I know this well, and have been doing it myself to a scary degree… But finding someone this damn dedicated to what he does in this day and age is rare.

Please, check out his work: http://www.michaelsundinphotography.com/

…and even more please, check out his gofundme: https://www.gofundme.com/5xkee8

He’s trying to get together $400 more dollars for a photoshoot that would do damn good for his business.. One he’s not getting paid for, but he’s doing for the clients to make them super comfortable before any sort of big paid shoot. I know we’re all pinching pennies.. I’m having to do it to a scary degree myself. This is one of those “anything helps” situations..where that spare $10 would make a huge difference.

If you can, please help support someone who’s a heck of a lot braver than me.

Thanks for your time. Normally scheduled kinky fuckery will resume shortly

-Rene