Fighting my Master is something I once could never imagine, but as time and a great deal of turmoil have gone by, "resistance-play" has become something highly cathartic for me. Not often, but sometimes, I'll feel the urge to fight as he fucks me and I'll tell him. So far he has always responded almost the same way - with a smile and encouragement to just try it. And so I do. I push him away, twist my body, and try to close my legs, kicking frantically.... and then less convincingly.... and then stop. I can't keep it up for more than a few seconds at a time - it is far more "me" to submit. So why, then, do I want to fight him? Simple, really. To lose.
So last night, when he pressed the blade of a knife against my throat as he fucked me, and asked, "now do you want to push me away, bitch?" - it was a shock to the system. Lying there, his cock in my hole, his weight on my hips, hand gripping my hair.... and the steel pressed against my neck.... I had already lost. For him to ask that question served to invite that "fighting" part of me to come out, and find itself already in jeopardy. There was nowhere to go, no way to move, without impaling myself in a bloody mess on his sheets. And that fighting-part... feline nadi, if you like... she wanted to fight. And found herself already done, before even moving a muscle. And so I choked, caught in a mental trap. Fight-stop. The tension had nowhere to go, so it remained, as Master kept talking, pressing slightly harder with the blade, then slightly harder still.... until he asked me another question and I could not even respond.... and just laid there making choking-gasping sounds, crying and trembling, completely overwhelmed.
My only relief, of course, was submission to it all. When I finally let go and just drifted into dark serenity, the tension ceased - and my body responded by relaxing under him, my slut hole melting into a wet abyss, my breathing almost not there at all.... and my mind, gone to a peaceful distance - a place where I cared not to live or die.... just surrender to his will. Words just can't capture the bliss.
Showing posts with label force. Show all posts
Showing posts with label force. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Home is where the hold is
I haven't been well lately, which is one reason why I haven't blogged in so long. A chest infection is making it hard to breathe. So, when Master fucks me, he has been making sure to push his weight firmly onto my chest. Good sadomasochism can turn any situation into an opportunity - and far be it from my Master to not take full advantage.
Another thing fairly unique to Master in bed is his tendency to keep talking - describing ideas for scenes, or just saying single words, designed to keep me where he wants me, and guide my mind to the state he desires. In this way, what we are actually doing becomes almost irrelevant, as even a straightforward, missionary-style quickie becomes a mental rollercoaster of corruption, humiliation, torture, and pleasure.
So the other night, he wasn't just fucking me, but engulfing me; suffocating me with pressure on my chest, filling my mind with thought and sound. My mind was swimming with him as he fucked so long that my breathlessness faltered my ability to orgasm, or do anything else for that matter. I was not me, I was just a vessel, full of him. So the impact hit particularly hard when he turned his verbal torrent to say, "It does not matter what you want: you could be mine for the rest of your life if I decide, even if you don't want it. You have no choice."
The rest of my life. If I want it, or not. Those were the words that captured me most fully, their truth resonating through my body and taking me to that place of surrender. There are still times when I question my desire to keep my promise to him, to be his indefinitely - times when I fall into despair and wonder how to get out of this. But his power of me is complete - there is no way out of this of my own choosing. And that knowledge never fails to bring me back to submission, and in turn, contentment.
Ah, the bliss of knowing I may not choose. Freedom of responsibility. Relinquishment of power. The safety of knowing no matter what happens, no matter how I think or feel, there is somewhere I still belong.
Another thing fairly unique to Master in bed is his tendency to keep talking - describing ideas for scenes, or just saying single words, designed to keep me where he wants me, and guide my mind to the state he desires. In this way, what we are actually doing becomes almost irrelevant, as even a straightforward, missionary-style quickie becomes a mental rollercoaster of corruption, humiliation, torture, and pleasure.
So the other night, he wasn't just fucking me, but engulfing me; suffocating me with pressure on my chest, filling my mind with thought and sound. My mind was swimming with him as he fucked so long that my breathlessness faltered my ability to orgasm, or do anything else for that matter. I was not me, I was just a vessel, full of him. So the impact hit particularly hard when he turned his verbal torrent to say, "It does not matter what you want: you could be mine for the rest of your life if I decide, even if you don't want it. You have no choice."
The rest of my life. If I want it, or not. Those were the words that captured me most fully, their truth resonating through my body and taking me to that place of surrender. There are still times when I question my desire to keep my promise to him, to be his indefinitely - times when I fall into despair and wonder how to get out of this. But his power of me is complete - there is no way out of this of my own choosing. And that knowledge never fails to bring me back to submission, and in turn, contentment.
Ah, the bliss of knowing I may not choose. Freedom of responsibility. Relinquishment of power. The safety of knowing no matter what happens, no matter how I think or feel, there is somewhere I still belong.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Everlong
It was six months ago that I last blogged, and it was pretty clear I was struggling. Not just struggling to write, though that was true - I was struggling to subsist. Even now, the reasons why are hazy. But where it led me, where I am now, and why... that much makes sense. Perhaps this is why, to tell the story, I think it best to start at the point where things began to make sense again... the moment clarity began to return.
On September 20th last year, my Master and owner directed me to my bedroom, where he told me to kneel with my eyes closed. He placed a beautiful, and carefully chosen band around my neck, and my breath left me. Just like that, so simply, I became his collared slave.
To say I was overjoyed would be far too simplistic. I was awed, near-speechless, hot and trembling. I had spent three years longing and striving for this moment, and to my shock, it was here. It finally was here, almost defying belief - defying my whole reality.
What was most shocking of all, is less than a week earlier, I had tried to leave. Because although I had spent three years waiting for this moment, some months ago, I had given up. Hope, faith, joy, and will, had left me slowly. What remained was a sad, desperate loyalty - and bitter love. I was drowning. All my senses screamed ESCAPE. So I tried.
But those three years had not been spent idly. Master had built something with me, and I had participated more than gladly. Put simply, I was not allowed to leave. I had given him my rights, my freedom, with every intention not to ask for them back. I had hoped - and pleaded - that he hold me to that promise... that if I ever did try to be my own person, he would prove to me that I was not. If I ever tried to run, I should be dragged back. How was it that I grew so hopeless that I didn't believe in this promise anymore? It would take a thesis to try and explain. And even then, it might be more confusing than enlightening.
Suffice to say that hope had left me - I no longer believed he would take what had been promised. I thought I could simply leave, and be alone, horribly free. I say horribly because I truly did not want my freedom. Only the turbulence in my mind seemed worse, and I wanted free of it, even if that meant I was alone.
But the most incredible thing happened. Master said no. He simply would not allow me to leave, regardless of what I said or did. He would not let me go that easily, he said... "you are mine." To my amazement, my Master followed through on exactly what he had said he would do.
The days that followed were a strange mix of grief and comfort. Something had happened that I had both dreaded and dreamed about - I had become an unwilling slave. I truly had no choice, it had been proven to me. But something else had been proven, too - I had been worth taking. If I could rely on my Master to keep his word even when I swore I did not want him to... then perhaps I could simply rely on him. And was there really an alternative? I swung back and forth between resignation and fear - relenting in my actions, versus submitting in my heart. Which would I choose?
As it turned out, the choice was again made for me. When Master collared me, he told me in his actions and his words, that I was worthy to him. He intended, always, to keep me. He valued me - enough that I was worth the effort it took to maintain his hold. All my fear that I meant nothing to him, all my doubt that I was worth anything at all, was gone. And my heart was his again. I have not faltered in my commitment since.
In some ways, the collar represents only what was true before it was put physically in place. I was already his, for as long as he decides, by choice or by force. But in other ways, it changes everything. It is public recognition of my place - and therefore, of his pride. And it is private recognition of what I have given him: everything of my self. That I had to try and free myself, and be made to surrender, in order to earn what I had wanted willingly for so long before, is both a perverse irony and a rightful law. It gives me certainty of my place and my worth, a tangible reminder of who he is to me, and who I remain to him.
But most of all it gives me peace. Peace from the turmoil inside my mind that tortured me as little as three months ago... that made me want to escape, at any price, just to ease the pressure inside. Because it was only based on fear grown so overwhelming, that I could see nothing else. Master came through on his promise, and eased my fear, so I could willingly give myself to him once more. My bliss came back. And now, a new phase begins...
On September 20th last year, my Master and owner directed me to my bedroom, where he told me to kneel with my eyes closed. He placed a beautiful, and carefully chosen band around my neck, and my breath left me. Just like that, so simply, I became his collared slave.
To say I was overjoyed would be far too simplistic. I was awed, near-speechless, hot and trembling. I had spent three years longing and striving for this moment, and to my shock, it was here. It finally was here, almost defying belief - defying my whole reality.
What was most shocking of all, is less than a week earlier, I had tried to leave. Because although I had spent three years waiting for this moment, some months ago, I had given up. Hope, faith, joy, and will, had left me slowly. What remained was a sad, desperate loyalty - and bitter love. I was drowning. All my senses screamed ESCAPE. So I tried.
But those three years had not been spent idly. Master had built something with me, and I had participated more than gladly. Put simply, I was not allowed to leave. I had given him my rights, my freedom, with every intention not to ask for them back. I had hoped - and pleaded - that he hold me to that promise... that if I ever did try to be my own person, he would prove to me that I was not. If I ever tried to run, I should be dragged back. How was it that I grew so hopeless that I didn't believe in this promise anymore? It would take a thesis to try and explain. And even then, it might be more confusing than enlightening.
Suffice to say that hope had left me - I no longer believed he would take what had been promised. I thought I could simply leave, and be alone, horribly free. I say horribly because I truly did not want my freedom. Only the turbulence in my mind seemed worse, and I wanted free of it, even if that meant I was alone.
But the most incredible thing happened. Master said no. He simply would not allow me to leave, regardless of what I said or did. He would not let me go that easily, he said... "you are mine." To my amazement, my Master followed through on exactly what he had said he would do.
The days that followed were a strange mix of grief and comfort. Something had happened that I had both dreaded and dreamed about - I had become an unwilling slave. I truly had no choice, it had been proven to me. But something else had been proven, too - I had been worth taking. If I could rely on my Master to keep his word even when I swore I did not want him to... then perhaps I could simply rely on him. And was there really an alternative? I swung back and forth between resignation and fear - relenting in my actions, versus submitting in my heart. Which would I choose?
As it turned out, the choice was again made for me. When Master collared me, he told me in his actions and his words, that I was worthy to him. He intended, always, to keep me. He valued me - enough that I was worth the effort it took to maintain his hold. All my fear that I meant nothing to him, all my doubt that I was worth anything at all, was gone. And my heart was his again. I have not faltered in my commitment since.
In some ways, the collar represents only what was true before it was put physically in place. I was already his, for as long as he decides, by choice or by force. But in other ways, it changes everything. It is public recognition of my place - and therefore, of his pride. And it is private recognition of what I have given him: everything of my self. That I had to try and free myself, and be made to surrender, in order to earn what I had wanted willingly for so long before, is both a perverse irony and a rightful law. It gives me certainty of my place and my worth, a tangible reminder of who he is to me, and who I remain to him.
But most of all it gives me peace. Peace from the turmoil inside my mind that tortured me as little as three months ago... that made me want to escape, at any price, just to ease the pressure inside. Because it was only based on fear grown so overwhelming, that I could see nothing else. Master came through on his promise, and eased my fear, so I could willingly give myself to him once more. My bliss came back. And now, a new phase begins...
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