Bigger (love) on the Inside 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 I kept quiet. I did not talk about the fact that I had a membership to, 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.



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 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.



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.



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.



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.



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.

The New Normal

Tuesday is the day I get out of the house. I take the girls to work, run errands, grab a cup of coffee and sit down to get some writing done. I have checked my email and taken a moment to relax and now I begin to write. This is the new normal for me. It has gotten me to start thinking about what “normal” really means.

I was talking to a friend the other day. She brought up her reservations about being kinky and poly in a career world where these things are not approved of. In her work world these things are not normal. On the contrary, in my life I am surrounded by both kink and poly family models. I talk to friends about sex and vulgar thoughts all the time. We all know and admit that vile and disturbing thoughts exist. We generally agree that the idea of monogamy is outdated and find a great deal of pleasure in having sex with each other. Normal is a common consensus it is an agreed upon average. What that average is, what that norm is, depends on the population. If the group believes that non-monogamy is the best relationship type, then being monogamous becomes the abnormal behavior. This is how reality changes, shifts. Little by little we move from one belief to another. Each little change is taken into new norm and before you know it, the world itself is different. Things that used to be accepted as the way the world works (i.e. racism, sexism, smoking, etc) are more and more unacceptable. Likewise, things that were once seen as taboo (homosexuality, interracial couples) are now common enough to be seen on the major networks during prime time.

How far does this thought extend? Could it be that once upon a time there was a generally held belief in magic and therefore there was magic? Could the mass belief in dragons have made them real? Is our failing belief in God making him fade like Tinkerbell?