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Metal Clovers


Cold hard metal makes me melt…



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Cunt Busting?

At a workshop I attended this past summer on pussy torture I learned what cunt busting was. I have to tell ya, not a fan. I enjoy me some pain but getting punched or kicked in the cunt is not the kind of pain I’m into. I was thinking about how painful it would be when it dawned in me that I had indeed had my cunt busted before. Although, it was not in the same context as the workshop and not at someone else’s hand, or foot as the case may be.

I was about 13 years old and spending the afternoon with one of my friends from school. We had gone for a walk to the store and watched a movie, Footloose. I remember the movie because we were dancing around the kitchen like a couple of fools and her mother told us to go outside, out of her hair she put it.

We went outside and were trying to figure out what to do. Not another walk. Her badminton racquet was broken, so no badminton. Then her brother, who I had the biggest crush on, arrived. He flew down the driveway on his 10-speed, threw it down on the ground, adjusted his leather jacket and went inside. I always thought he looked a lot like James Dean, though I couldn’t picture James Dean doing what he had just done.

We decided a bike ride would be the thing to keep us out of her mother’s hair. Problem was there was only one girls bike. You know, the one with the straight crossbar. No odds, I’ll ride her brother’s bike. Couldn’t be that hard. Nice thought, not so nice result.

Hopping on the bikes we headed out, down the road one way, back again. Then up around the bend towards the quarry. There is a large paved area there where the roads meet, not an intersection though as the roads do not come together at the same point. You can ride around in circles and do tricks or whatever due to the size and being able to see cars coming long before they are upon you. We didn’t want to go down the hill as it was quite steep and the bakes weren’t working so we stayed there on that area of the road.

My friend had been doing some kind of tricks on her bike that I wanted to do, or at least to the degree I could considering the state of the bike I was riding. I tried to turn around but was too close to the side of the road I was facing and didn’t quite make it. Boom! I hit the side of the road, going too fast on a bike that was too big and wasn’t able to properly stop. I went head over heels, still holding on to the handlebars and in the process jammed my crotch into the stem of the bike. You know, the joint where the handlebars and bike frame connect. Holy mother of god did that hurt!!

I must have passed out for a moment because I went from hitting the side of the road and feeling the impact against my crotch to being in the ditch with my friend trying to pull the bike off me. She was trying not to laugh as she asked if I was ok. If I hadn’t been in so much pain I’m sure I would have been laughing too. Unfortunately I felt more like throwing up at that moment. As I tried to get out of the ditch and to my feet I was thinking how glad I was nobody had seen. Apparently that thought had come too soon as seconds later I spotted a crippled old man coming towards us. He had seen the whole thing from his living room window and came to see if I was ok. Embarrassment factor just went through the roof.

It took some help, from both of them, but I finally managed to get to my feet. Still hunched over in pain I hobbled back to my friend’s house with the bike, her walking hers beside me and the crippled old man making his way back to his lookout post. Seriously, that’s what old people do, sit at home looking out the window to see what their neighbors are up to. They make for a good neighborhood watch.

But back to the topic at hand…

This was not a pain I would ever like to experience again. I honestly do not know how people enjoy it. It isn’t a sharp pain. It isn’t a dull pain. It’s somehow neither yet a combination of both. It’s like running full speed into a concrete wall except it’s your genitals that receive the impact rather than your skull. Pinching, slapping, even the occasional bite, my cunt likes these. A kick, a punch, that piece of steel from the bike, no thanks. You can use a flogger, a paddle, a Wartenberg wheel. You can pin it, clamp it, or pump that pussy up. Just please, PLEASE, don’t treat it like you’re trying to win an ultimate fighting challenge.



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A while back I attended a pussy torture workshop with Artist and Artist Wife at a dungeon studio in Toronto. I had been wanting to visit the studio for some time but things always came up that kept me from going. When I saw the posting for the pussy torture workshop the timing was perfect. My son was away, so I didn’t need to find a sitter, and it was an afternoon workshop. Afternoons are much less stressful that full on evening events when you don’t know anyone there. Yes, I brought Artist and Artist Wife along, but they didn’t know anyone else either.

We made our way downtown and my fellow travelers reminisced about when they used to work at a studio in the same neighborhood. It had been several years and though many things remained the same others were drastically different. The studio address was easily found, the studio itself not so much. We looked around for signs pointing us in the right direction. Nothing. There were several groups of people outside. No help. Then we found a parking spot and figured the studio was the one next to the parking spot. Wrong. One lovely lady finally told us where the studio entrance was. You had to go in one large door, through a group of people who were there chilling (smoking up) and the entrance to the studio was inside to the right. Why couldn’t those guys have been more helpful. Geesh!

Anyways, we finally made our way inside and found some rather nice people and a cool space. It was much smaller than I had anticipated, but that tends to happen. Ask a man about the size of something and see how accurate his measurements are to reality. 😉

The presenter was nice, approachable, and seemed to know her shit. I liked her. Truly. I’d like to hang out with her for an afternoon, one on one. Maybe even visit her dungeon. I just wasn’t that keen on the workshop itself. The majority of it was taken up by an anatomy lesson, Female Anatomy 101. Surprisingly, many women don’t know their own body. I understand that men may require the full on lesson, but I didn’t. I think that it should be a separate workshop on its own, or combined with male anatomy to get a full picture.

She also spent a lot of time on safety. This I really liked because it showed that she cared about the content she was putting out there and does not want to see people getting hurt. One can rarely be too careful when dealing with things that have the possibility of causing great harm. Something as simple as using foods or lotions with sugars in them can cause havoc with ones girly bits.

What I didn’t like was that there were two demo bottoms for her to demonstrate with, along with a variety of implements, and I got nothing from the demo portion of the workshop. I did find a lovely bamboo paddle/trivet with a handle that works amazingly well on her table of torture devices, even made a trip to Ikea to purchase a couple. That was an implement though, not an actual method or way to torture a pussy, and not an implement she demonstrated. I also found an excellent lube, but then I very rarely use any kind of lube. I have a small bottle I purchased upwards of ten years ago that is still more than half full. I didn’t learn anything new regarding the topic I went there to learn about, pussy torture. If anything I left there more frustrated than before I went.

There were a wide variety of  clothes pegs and clamps. She did use some on one of the demo bottoms but only discussed the difference between two types and the sensations each would provide. I think mentioning that the big plastic ones, though not much of a grip, have sharp edges that you want to keep away from certain areas would be important for the beginner to know. She mentioned a zipper (clothes pegs joined with string and applied to a body then pulled off with a tug of the string) but didn’t have one to show us or demonstrate.

One simple thing that I would have liked to see was ways the person being tortured could be positioned. The demo bottoms were sat quite precariously on a rolling metal table. They couldn’t lean back and get comfortable. There was no way they could position themselves in a natural way. Even the demonstrator couldn’t find a good angle to wield a flogger, paddle, or even her own hand. The spanking bench would have been a better platform than the rolling morgue table.

This is not a diss on the presenter. It is my opinion of what I thought of this particular workshop itself. It wasn’t what I had expected, nor was it what I was looking for. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a very helpful workshop for some people. As I said, I quite liked the presenter. I think she has a lot of knowledge to share and I would attend another one of her workshops.

 

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So, I’ve been on FetLife for a little over two years now and some of the messages I get still surprise me. Even when the messages seem sensible I will go check out their profile and be caught off guard by how different it is from the message. I guess things shouldn’t surprise me since new members are always joining, and there are douches everywhere, but they do.

FetLife is a social network for the kink and BDSM community, not a dating site. There are groups for people looking and yes, people do hook up just like on any regular dating site, but that isn’t the premise of the sight and shouldn’t be the only reason they are there. That isn’t why I am there. It did start out that way though, looking for a threesome with the man I was involved with at the time. I am there to learn, more about me than anything else, and to meet like-minded people.

That doesn’t stop people from joining and sending messages or posting to groups about how they are looking for someone to fuck that night or asking who wants a blowjob. These people aren’t really in the lifestyle, or are genuinely interested but too young and eager. Either way, they will soon learn and calm the fuck down or leave the site because nobody is responding to their eloquent come-ons. In the meantime we still have to deal with their nonsense.

It wasn’t too bad for a while. My profile stated that I was owned and for the most part that kept the riff-raff away. There were some very young men who messaged me but once I responded with a “What do you think being owned means?” they said their little I’m sorry’s and disappeared. Then, just over a week ago I removed the owned status. Not because I don’t still feel owned by MySir, but because he has disengaged and if I left it as it was I would continue to hold back and wait and hope pine over him. It was keeping me from giving other people a chance. I don’t know if he will be back. I don’t know if he wants to or if he’s even capable of it. I love him. I love him but I can’t not live my life because I am waiting for something that may never happen.

After I changed my status a young man sent me a message. He said he was “really interested in talking to you and learn more about you. I am very open, been in bdsm world for many years now, experienced, have had subs in the past. I am very respectful…  know how to treat my girl… I would love to find one girl for long term ongoing.” Then, another message or two and I get “If you know any single sexual kinky girl who wants ongoing i be up for that. If not still love to play with you once be dirty and see how the experience goes.”

My first issue with this message is that he obviously did not read or comprehend the first few sentences on my profile, otherwise he would know that I am not interested in one night stands and casual encounters and would not have suggested such. Second, if he was really interested in talking to me and learning more about me he wouldn’t have asked me to set him up with someone else. If he was truly respectful and knew how to treat a woman he wouldn’t have said the things he did. And, if he is really looking to find that right person for a long term relationship, he sure as hell does not know how to go about it.

There is one profile of a  63 year old “strict master” that takes the cake for me. He “hope(s) to find a relationship” and is “interested in females, sub/sub couples, sub fem/Dom male couples, and willing to entertain other possibilities…. Looks, age, and race are not important. A genuine need to submit and be dominated is…. I can adjust to the needs of the one I am with as long as it is understood that I am in charge totally….  I prefer someone with experience (but) I am willing to train an enthusiastic novice.” There are no photos on his profile and he says it’s because I’m fairly high profile in my community. discursion does not permit me to post a photo.”

What this profile says to me is that he is desperate and will fuck or play with anyone who is interested. Seriously? He has no type? Who does he hope to find a relationship with? The sub fem/Dom male couple? Is a Dom male going to let him be totally in charge? I don’t think so. And I get that some people don’t want to put a picture of themselves up, but put something, anything, that reflects who you are or what you like. Discursion. I’m sure he meant discretion there. We all make mistakes so I won’t pick on that one. I checked his activity and it is a list of short comments on women’s pictures. Cute. Lovely. Attractive. Beautiful. Nice. Quite nice. Very nice. Nice start. Good start…. You get the idea. There were 59 comments like that in the last two hours. Not a way to make one appear genuine and discerning.

I was talking about these and other messages/profiles with a friend who is also on FetLife the other night. He said he doubted these people got any kind of positive response, but if they did he wondered what kind of person would be responding. My thought is that there are as many desperate and insecure women as there are men like these. There are too many women who believe that to be a Dom, or Dominant, means that they should also be arrogant and domineering, and there are too many men who abuse the title of Dominant or assume the title because they are arrogant and domineering. They abuse the title, the role, and the women who fall for their lines.

Being submissive does not mean you need to be a doormat and accept what someone says at face value without doing some homework. It is ok to ask for references. It is ok to be cautious. It is ok to question. It is ok to just say no thank you. It is ok to stand up for yourself, for what you believe and what you want. It is ok to be alone while you wait for what is right. It is more than ok. A good Dom will help you shine brighter, not squash your spirit. They will help guide you and teach you. They will respect and honor you. They will help you become your best self, just as you help them do the same.

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I recently joined a group on Facebook, BDSM Info, and saw the following posted earlier this evening. (It is a closed group but you may be able to see the original post and comments here) I wanted to share it because it is something we should all ask of ourselves and our relationships. Even if we do not have all the answers it is important we consider them and find the answers along the way.

Questions to think about for a sub/slave

Tell me, my slave, do you do the things you do for me because you want to, because you believe I want you to, or because you have been taught by someone else that is what a slave should do?

Why do you kneel for me, why do you call me “Master”, why do you obey my every command, regardless of how stupid it is?

If I told you I wanted you to stop kneeling for me all the time, to stop calling me “Master” in every sentence, to stop following my every command without thinking, would I be less of a Master in your eyes then?

If I told you I wanted you more as my friend instead of my property, more as my lover instead of my toy, more as my helper instead of my tool, would you lose your respect for me then?

If I relieved you from your bonds, from your commitments, from your promises of obedience, would you leave me then?

Do we shape our relationship from our own common needs and preferences, or do we shape it from a cliché someone else has painted for us?

And finally, am I asking you this just because I am a “true” Master testing if you are a “true” slave, or am I asking you this because I want to know, because I want us to know, because I want you to know the answers to these questions.

Think, my slave, about if you want to answer these questions, about if you dare to find the answers to these questions, about if I really want you to try to answer these questions.

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He asked me many months ago what submission meant to me. You can read my response HERE. That was ten months ago and a lot, yet at the same time very little, has changed since then. So, He asked me again… What does submission mean to you?

I said it means finding my home.

At home you are your true self. There are no roles to play or people to impress. We don’t wear the masks we show to the world when we are at home. Home is where we feel safe, where we find comfort.

He said it is the actions that define you as Dominant or submissive, not the feeling or intent. It is a choice, He says, the choice to no longer need to choose.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be your true self, to feel safe and at home all the time? To not have to hide any part of who you are? Yes it is a feeling, but it is also action. Dropping your mask is an action. Being true to you, rather than playing a role, is an action. Submitting is an action. I wouldn’t say being submissive is a choice but I would say that offering your submission to someone is.

I always consider how something feels not necessarily what it may look like or the logistics of it. I do agree with him that it is our actions which define us, but our actions do not matter if there is not feeling and intent behind them and the feeling and intent is not genuine.

Let’s consider what he said for a moment with the following scenarios…

Mary is married to Bob. He works at the local credit union and she at the high school. Mary comes home from work each day and cooks a hot dinner for her and Bob. She has his slippers at the door, the day’s paper on the side table of his favourite chair, and Channel 4 news on the television ready for him. A scotch will accompany the paper on days he has indicated one is needed. She has a hot bath each evening before bed then, while her husband has his shower, she lay waiting for him to come take her. Afterward, she will clean him with her mouth before he falls asleep.

 

June lives with her boyfriend Robby. They have been together a few years and have an open relationship. They frequent a local swingers club where, on most nights, June plays while Robby watches. June always wears her collar when they go out and follows Robby’s rule, eye contact to no one. He chooses the playmates and their activity. He has a proclivity for redheads and big men who like fucking June’s pretty little ass.

On the surface these both look like D/s relationships, their actions suggest as such. They could be, but they may not be. We would need to know the feeling and intent behind the actions to determine that.

Does Mary do those things for Bob because it pleases her to please him? Does she lick him clean because she enjoys it? Or does she play the good little submissive wife because that’s what she’s been taught to do? Does she feel like screaming because she is living a life she does not want? Would she rather greet him when he comes home kneeling naked on the floor with her bare ass to him and have him fuck her from behind with his shoes still on?

Does June enjoy having an open relationship or does she accept it because that’s what Robby wants and she’d rather put up with that than be alone? Does the collar mean anything to her or was she just told she had to wear it? Does Robby choose redheads because he knows June likes them and wants her to enjoy the experience? Or does he do it because he knows she doesn’t like redheads so wouldn’t likely leave him for one he lets her play with? Does June watch Robby when other guys fuck her? Does she get excited by his reactions, does she look him in the eye, enjoy his excitement?

There is much more to Domination and submission than just the actions. You have to go beyond the actions to the feelings and intent. There has to be desire and willingness. There needs to be genuine thoughtful action, feeling, and intent.  It has to feel right, like home.

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Need

need / nēd
verb
verb: need; 3rd person present: needs; past tense: needed; past participle: needed; gerund or present participle: needing; modal verb: need
  1. 1.
    require (something) because it is essential or very important. “I need help now”
    not want to be subjected to something. “I don’t need your sarcasm”
  2. 2.
    expressing necessity or obligation. “need I say more?”
  3. 3.
    archaic be necessary. “lest you, even more than needs, embitter our parting”
noun
noun: need; plural noun: needs
  1. 1.
    circumstances in which something is necessary, or that require some course of action; necessity. “the basic human need for food”
  2. 2.
    a thing that is required. “his day-to-day needs”

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    “I want you to hold me, to hurt me, and to comfort me when you are done.”

    That is what I told Him today. I lied. I don’t want it, I need it.

    Just as He needs to give a beating, I need to take one.

    I need to be spanked or flogged or beaten, maybe all three, maybe more.

    I need to feel pain beyond the pleasure, until it subsides and sends me off into peaceful subspace.

    I need my brain to shut down, to reset itself.

    I need to fight and cry and scream.

    I need to release what has built up, what I have held on to for far too long.

    I need to be punished, for something, I don’t even know what.

    I can’t do it myself.

    I try, but there is only so much one can inflict on oneself before self preservation kicks in and it stops.

    I can’t hurt myself the way I need to be hurt.

    I can’t cause the pain that needs to be felt.

    I can’t let go without being forced to, without knowing there will be comfort once I do.

    I can’t explain it, rationalize it.

    I just know, innately, this is something that I need.

    I don’t want you to hold me, to hurt me, or to comfort me when you are done.

    I need you to.

    I need you to hold me.

    I need you to hurt me, to bring tears, to have me beg.

    I need you to comfort me, to make a safe space for me.

    I need you to make me do what I can not do myself.

    I don’t want you to.

    I need you to.

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