Bigger (love) on the Inside

Kink.com Bondage Woman

I have lunch scheduled with a friend for today. He is an old friend from an old life and the last time we talked it was about how one of our close mutual friends had “fallen in with a bad crowd”. What he meant by this was that she was working for Kink.com. I kept quiet. I did not talk about the fact that I had a membership to kink.com, or the fact that ZeeGee and I used it. I did not mention that we had just come out as non-monogamous or that we were kinky. It seemed like more than was fair to dump on him all at once and if I was going to say anything, I was going to say everything.

When it rains, it pours…

I will not do this in half measures. If this is important enough to tell him about, if he is important enough to tell then I am telling him everything. My life is an open book to those I am close enough to. Maybe it is too much for him. He is a good guy with a kind heart and I am not sure if the idea of being cruel, brutal, and controlling are traits he can see without negative connotations. Maybe it is stronger than our friendship.

This is an idea I have been contemplating since before this all began. I have always made friends easily, partially because I am easy-going and willing to listen, and partially because I am willing to talk about what seem to be intimate details of myself. The truth is that I do not consider many of those details intimate and many of the people who were my “friends” are nothing more than acquaintances. When I began to let my inner-self out and I realized that he would not be accepted by most of the people I was associating with, I simply stopped talking to those people. I was not losing something, I was not falling away from real friends because in many cases they did not really know me.

This went for family, and high school friends, and people I met when I first moved to Chicago. They did not know what I was really thinking. I was not losing confidants. I was not losing my secret confessors because I was never telling them secrets, I was never  confessing.

Opening the door to the TARDIS

So he is coming over and I am going to invite him into my house but something will be/is different. I am not going to hold back my thoughts and feelings like I did before. I have come to terms with the fact that I am a monster at times.  I am ok with what I want and who I am. I am also ok with others knowing that. If I have invited you into my house, over my threshold then I feel you can enter into my world. I am not sure what will come of this small experiment in outing myself to my past. Perhaps I will find that this is not what I want. perhaps the world is not ready for my honesty. We will see but in the meantime I have clothes to fold and dishes to wash and all of time and space to explain.

 

PostScript

The meeting went well and all he said to me was, “why didn’t you tell me before?” I told him that I thought he would judge me and he explained that his concerns had always been for how quickly our friend fell in love and had nothing to do with the lifestyle. It was comforting to hear. Not many people understand where any of us are coming from.

 

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Finding your voice

“J_____ gives me marbles!”

“J___ gives me marbles!” She was screaming with her nose pressed against the screen as she watched for the pizza delivery and I fucked her from behind. Every marble was an orgasm. Her little plastic bag held over thirty for the two days since the glass bead game had started. At first they were her secret shame. She would blush when asked about them. She would not volunteer their meaning. Before we went to teach she admitted to me that she was no longer ashamed of them, she was now proud. She thought it would ruin my demo. They are so cute when they think they know what is coming.

Our class had gone well. She was a sobbing mess by the end. Her screams and cries had carried throughout the camp and people in neighboring tents were traumatized. Even when she was in her dominant teaching space, even when she thought she knew what was coming, I still was able to bring her to her knees. I have to say, it was a pretty good weekend. It was not just the change to get out of town. It was not just the chance to teach and talk or to meet new people. It was about connection and ownership.

All relationships are unique. I do not expect to find the same with any two people when it comes to sex and play let alone a serious and long term relationship. With that said, it is still interesting to watch and feel how a relationship grows and changes. These are new feeling and ideas to me. She gets a sense of belonging from existing as a possession. It makes her feel wanted and loved to be held so close. For me it is as if she is a part of me. She is an arm, extra eyes, a brain to be accessed and utilized as needed. These feelings do not just happen though. We both come with baggage. We both have lives that existed before “us” which have to be understood, valued and put into place around that which we are making together.

She was raised from a young girl, taught to be daddy’s little slave. She was kept naive and sexually in the dark. He played with a little girl’s shame about feeling sexual. He made her sleep on a towel during her period. He trained her to suck him off the way he wanted. He fucked her in only the missionary position to keep her from becoming too used to the idea of sex and sexuality. All the while he was raising her to be a strong and competent slave in many other ways. She was taught to cook and clean. She was given a chance to become an active member in the community. She grew in her dichotomy. In social settings she was strong and independent, sassy to the point of appearing almost bratty at times while at home she was kept in a place of perpetual failure.

I danced around control with ZG. We would fade back and forth on what each of us wanted. I would push and then pull back, she would ask and then argue. We could not settle on what we wanted, not because we did not know what we wanted but because we knew that what we wanted was the same but not what we wanted from each other. Perhaps we did want it from each other, perhaps I did want her to shut the fuck up and be an obedient slave, maybe she did want me to nut up and rape her more often. In the end it is all semantics. In the end it did not work and we both went elsewhere to get what we wanted.

So here we are; my new slave craving belonging, me wanting control. The world opens up to us and we are frozen in our tracks. She asked me and herself daily “what of who I am is me and what is what he made me?” I have been asking myself, “What is it that I want and what is it that I am seeing others do that I am trying to mimic?” How do you ever really know? What is you? What is them? What is you made by them? What is them made for you? The combinations are infinite. So what is you and what is what you are moving out of? What is your true self and what is what you are making yourself be for this new relationship?

The short answer? Yes.

You are all of those things. You are what you are, what you are made and what you make. You are nothing more than what you are at any one moment in time. I stopped trying to figure that out. I am simply living the life that sits in front of me. I am taking possession of her as I desire. I am a sexual creature. So is she. I love to see her cum. I love to hear her beg me to stop. She is ashamed of who she is sexually and freeing her from that shame makes her mine. I am letting her be the slut and dirty girl she wants to be within the safety and comfort of our relationship. I own her sexually by allowing her to be sexual. Her orgasms are no longer hers, they are mine. Her body is mine to explore and torture. I feel a warmth and comfort in this relationship I never felt with ZG. I do not fear loss (not to be confused with not feeling jealousy). I do not wonder if the love I feel is reciprocated. I see it in actions and hear it in words of devotion. It is the fact that every move is a sign of possession that shows me what I had always craved but never got.

Finding new dynamics

Titles are important. Labels give us a place to start when thinking about someone and how they interact with the world. We know who we are by the names we give ourselves, the names others give us. In this game of musical chairs that is my relationships, I am made to think about this more than I have in a long time. What am I to those I love? What are they to me? What is important to keep in the dissolution of old ties and what can be left behind?

I am still married. I will be for a while since that is not a connection I want to lose just yet. ZG was my best friend and is the mother of my children. I keep that connection to her because it is not a relationship I walk away from easily but the more familiar connections, the protection, the D/s is not there. It is okay. Life changes, we move on. The irony is that this is the easier relationship to define. It is the known. It is the connection that I know and feel most comfortable drawing lines around. What I have with my new girl is much more challenging.

 

Girlfriend

The title is simple and self explanatory. She is a girl and she is my friend but this is conventional moniker. It conveys a vanilla relationship, an egalitarian connection between two people. A boyfriend and a girlfriend ride bikes together and argue over whether they are going to rent a romantic comedy or an action film. A boyfriend makes his move by being smooth and putting his hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder in the theater. We began this dynamic knowing neither of us wanted parity. She wanted someone who would control her and I wanted someone to control. She meets me with eyes that show her desire to be told what to do, where to stand, what to say.

 

Slave

She considers herself a slave. It is a frame of mind for her. I cannot explain it as well as she can. The enslavement is a feeling of belonging, a place in someone’s life. She makes my life run smoother. She is the reason I can be writing now and not losing my shit, trying to wrangle the boys. The problem is in the title. For me to address her to others as “my slave” makes me throw up a little in my mouth. I get a feeling of Gorean melodrama. I see her as collared and branded and memorizing the positions. I am a modern man. I have no need for titles that smack of elitism. My place in her life and hers in mine are based on mental connections and desires. They do not need to be formal.

 

Girl

She is my girl. I look at her as my girl, as someone I protect. I see her as my child, helping me to make the house I want. My home is my castle and I am the king, she is my princess learning to rule as I would have her rule. The trick is that there is more to it than just that. She is a child in many ways but she is also a woman. She has a daddy who has raised her to be strong and healthy. I am not starting from scratch.

 

Captive

A large part of our sexual relationship and our power dynamic is based on my controlling her every move and training her to be mine. I wash her brutally, scrubbing her raw and violating her while cleaning. I hold her in the water and force my cock into her throat. She knows her place when we shower is curled up in the corner with her mouth open. I disrupt her sleep, I control her orgasms. I make her cum on command and fear my touch as much as she craves it. This dance of kindness and brutality draws her to me in a way that allows me to take her shopping and still feel the connection. She has a cast down look that says that she wants to escape the pain but craves the care too much to run away.

 

So what is it? What is the name, the title, the label that I put on her and our relationship? Is she my girl, girlfriend, slave or captive? Short answer is yes, she is all this and so much more. We are mental players. We feel more and see more with our minds’ eyes. She is fulfilling in this connection and I look forward to watching it grow.

The Profound Sadness of Indifference

It is not the hatred that I fear. It was never the hatred that ZG feared. It was what was to come next, the indifference. Hatred is emotional, it is connected to the person and to love and to feeling. It is still there in the heart and will remind you and the person you hate that you are thinking about them, even if that is in a negative way. Emotions of all kinds show the connections to each other, they are the mental glue adhering souls together. It is on of the reasons I play with emotional sadism.

Emotional sadism is about invoking emotions within another person. It is the painful extraction of emotions from another to be a little more precise. There is a connection in this. Sharing emotions whether they be classic emotions (love anger, fear, etc) or primordial emotions (hunger, pain, thirst…) is incredibly intimate. Two bottoms can be forced to bond when no common interests exists. A slave can imprint on her Master more intensely with the use of hunger and sleep deprivation. The ways you can use emotions to make these bonds are nearly inexhaustible. But what happens when the bond is strained? What happens when we start to explore the flip side of the coin?

Indifference is when the connection is lost. A lack of care, a feeling that no matter what was to happen to the other person you would not be able to feel. When love is lost and it warps into hate at least there is still feeling. When heartbreak burns and anger is left in the ashes, there is still a sign of life. When you wake and the feelings are all gone, then is the connection dead. It is in this lack of feeling that a new seed of feeling, an emotion not connected to a person or a series of life events is planted. It is a profound sadness, a shapeless sense of loss and solitude that washed over you like an ocean. It does not care if you float or drown, it does not make you get up and fight nor does it make you stay in bed. It has no meaning or goal in its existence. It is the sadness that lives within the dark recesses of the world where everything must end.

Sunday

ZG and I are separating. It has been a long time in coming or is a sudden change brought about by the actions of a few short minutes. It really depends on your perspective. It is not how I hoped it would be. I do not feel good about and the sadness that is filling the air these days is almost too much to bare. In the end it will be ok. We will all be ok. These are the honest lessons of this life we lead. It is neither good nor bad, it just is.

I still think we should have taught the class on polyamory. The five of us in the chaos that is our lives could have had a round table discussion to explore the dangers, the benefits, the ideals and the realities of living like this. Is it worth it? Does it work? The verdict is still out. No one said it was going to be easy.

Is it worth it? Is the attempt to hold multiple relationships of that level together worth it? That is question for each person to answer individually. I think so. For me the love you feel for different people is worth the pain that it may cause. Then again, maybe I am just a glutton for punishment. The pain can be intense. The loneliness that you can find in a crowd is almost too much but I know that none of us meant to hurt the others. We are human, we have human flaws and those flaws give us the remarkable ability to implode and explode and cause collateral damage.

But we grow. We change and try to become better people, deciphering the difference between the wants brought about by self-doubt and fear of change and the needs of the soul that unconsciously starves. The journey is not over, in fact this seems to be some of the darkest days but I do not regret heading out in this direction. I have found pieces of myself that I would have never found otherwise.

Letting Go

My youngest son has always been a challenge to punish. You could not take away his favorite toy or blanket because before he had learned his lesson he had given up on holding on to whatever it was that you took. If you sat him in a corner he would find ways of entertaining himself. The boy is unphased by change and has learned to appreciate what he has no matter how little or how much that is. It is a good lesson for the rest of us. Let go of the temporal and embrace the present.

Life is in flux now. Change seems more prevalent than ever before. I know this is not entirely true, we are surrounded by constant and never-ending change. Still it feels like there is more change swirling around me now. As I sit here smoking and reflecting on all that is different now from just a few short weeks ago I am reminded of my little sage’s philosophy. Holding on to that which has passed or what was not only fills you with regret and doubt, it makes you miss what is right in front of you. This blindness to the present good only creates more regret in the future. We should let go, experience the movement of life and embrace what gives us joy. Love what you had but not at the expense of what you have.

For My (first) Birthday

I have two every year. It is a long story and has nothing to do with this post. Mariela asked me yesterday what I wanted for my birthday by which she meant what sort of kinky shit I want to do. What I want is a felony and therefore I won’t go into it but it got me thinking about what I want that I can actually have.

Kink has been an amazing way of getting to make the world I have always wanted. If I am able to imagine it, for the most part, I am able to have it. Sex, pain, love, hate, the whole world of human emotions has been opened up and I am able to experience what it means to be human in its entirety. Existence is multifaceted, there are angles so often feared and left unexplored. There are dimensions infinitely long and infinitely thin running like threads through the world that we see and know. Pain in people who should know no pain. Joy in moments that we expect to find no pleasure in.

The book Flatland, is the story of a creature that exists in one-dimensional space. There in no height or depth, only width. One creature, say a circle, can tell another creature, say a triangle, by how it’s width changes when they are in contact with each other. I’ll give you a minute to ruminate on that.

One day this creature is taken into a second dimension. Looking down on the plane that was his existence, he can see the shapes of things in ways that he never had before. This two dimensional Virgil shows him another world within his own world and he is never the same again. This happens again and the wise two dimension creature is taken into three-dimensional space and realizes the narrowness of even his understanding.

This can go on and on.

I am a one-dimensional creature which has seen the second and third dimensions. I am at once aware that the world I know is far more complex that I initially understood but also that it is infinitely more complex than I can fathom still. I am suspended between exploring the nuance of what has been revealed and diving deeper to see how deep I can go before being crushed by the weight of all there is.

What do I want for my birthday? I want to dive slowly. I want to slowly descend through the layers of existence starting with those I was born understanding, down through this new world of shades of gray and into the lightless pit beyond. I want to hold my breath and feel the burn, I want to hear the pressure changing in my head. I want to be a piece of coal compressed and heated, changed and realigned until I am a more hardened and crystalline creature. I want to come back from this experience and cut and polish my soul until it catches and imprisons the light.

Besides, I always have another birthday to make her drink my piss from another girl’s asshole.