Tag Archives: Relationship

The Manchurian Candidate

 
“Do you realize, Comrade, the implications of the weapon that has been placed at your disposal?……His brain has not only been washed, as they say, it’s been dry-cleaned.”
Doctor Yen Lo
The Manchurian Candidate (1962)
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It had always been the thrill of the chase where I got my adrenaline rush.  If I could have easily attracted a man, I didn’t want him. It was always that forbidden fruit, the one that was just out of reach was the one I wanted.  The distant, distracted, “hard-to-get”, down right disinterested guy.  Now that was my candidate.  That’s where I used to set my sights.
*
A man’s intellectual complexity always  piques my interest, however it’s the power exchange that kept it.  How boring indeed would it be to color neatly in the lines, follow all the rules.   Ah, but to attempt a coup d’etat! To usurp the power.  And that’s what I always had done.
*
Our brain is the largest sex organ we own.
The mind fuck had been at the center of what drew me to D/s.  It needs to be stated that for my mind to be tapped into, I knew I would need to find a worthy adversary.  A Dominant I surmised, that could perhaps surpass my own intellect and psychological savoir faire.  A Napalm lover that had the power to blow my fucking mind with the possibility of me sustaining damage drew me like a moth to a flame.
*
Back when I was living the lifestyle, I was surrounded by a community of people who believed that BDSM was some kind of higher evolution.  That the lifestyle was a more evolved way of being.  Practically proclaiming to be near the pinnacle of Maslow’s hierarchy of self-actualization for fucks sake.   That through the lifestyle, a “deeper” level of intimacy and trust can be achieved; a richer bonding experience takes place than in a standard “vanilla” relationship can possibly bring to fruition.   Almost sounded cult-y if you weren’t already entrenched in it.
*
It took me a few years on a therapist couch to discover that most of these blokes are re-enacting their own trauma histories, myself included.   Most of the Dominants  I find, have childhoods riddled with victimization of merciless bullying at the hands of their peers and/or sadistic caregivers.  I also found that most Dominants have major control issues which is why they need to be the one in the position of power wielding the crop, cane, flogger, or paddle.  You won’t find them being hog-tied, bound, or otherwise put into a position where they will be made vulnerable.  Submissives paradoxically, are the ones who are more inherently dominant, they are the ones who are more risk takers, able to be bound, caged, suspended, lit on fire, clamped, whipped et cetera.   It’s not about trust, they have brass balls.
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But knowing all this information is useless.
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Recently at 3:00 AM on a quiet evening while watching TV, I received an unexpected text on my social media account from my ex-Dom years after he dumped me.   “ How about passing the time by playing a little solitaire?
*
Although his question differed it  activated me in the same way as Raymond Shaw.  Hypnotically,  I began to pinch my nipples hard and tug at them over and over, the way he used to, until my pussy was dripping wet.  When I could bear no more I grabbed my dildo and in doing so  I instantly became his whore once again.  Screaming in pain, screaming in bliss, screaming to no one but the empty space around me as I came, just as he taught me to do.
*
Maybe my brain has been dry cleaned.
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Where are those dudes who grab you in the middle of the night and throw you in a van to an undisclosed location to de-program you?  Oh yeah, that was the 70’s.  Nowadays you go and talk to a therapist about your feelings and sit with the distress and Linehan your way through life.
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Shit, nothing says lovin’ like hired goons.   And it sounds so much fucking easier than sitting with this shame.

Pipe Dreams

 

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I always took great pleasure in my submission.   I am a giver by nature.  I love to please.   I was the type of woman who could give and give and give, to the point that I would become drained and exhausted.  No one that I was ever in relationship with gave back to me, so I became depleted because I gave until there was nothing left.  The gift of my submission was exploited in that D/s relationship 10 years ago, my giving nature has been just exploited in my life overall. Something in me just broke after all that giving and has just never been the same.   I began becoming calcified over time, resentful at all the lies, the cheating, the beatings.  Perhaps a penchant for revenge began to take shape, I don’t know.

On one occasion I had the opportunity to to try my hand at using a cane on my Dominant’s ass.  I reasoned with him that if he was going to make me take a bunch of lashings from it and he was such a tough guy, he should have no problem letting me try striking him once or twice.  He agreed and I did things very carefully showing extreme restraint.  I didn’t want him to go medieval on me following this.  I remember feeling alive, strangely titilated by the experience.  There is too much confounding though.  Was it because of the subject who was spread eagle before me in such a vulnerable position; the very person who for so long had such power over me?  Or was it something else all together.

Since leaving my Dominant, I began a LTR with a vanilla man.   We have been together for 6 years now.   Over the years I’ve often missed being in a D/s relationship as well as missing kink itself.    There is an intensity I just haven’t experienced again,  outside of the lifestyle.  I’ve tried sliding in bits and pieces of kink, rimming him, tea bagging him, sliding just the tip of my tongue all up and down his frenulum, sucking, tugging and biting on his nipples; extending foreplay so long that his arousal is so heightened that there’s pre-cum dripping off his shaft and he’s begging me to fuck him.  Things designed to elicit maximum orgasm and pleasure for him.  Tantric elements and things of this sort.   Of course I’ve hidden the fact that I’ve fantasized about wanting to taking a strap-on to his tight little virgin ass while I reach around and stroke his manhood so that he cums harder and better than he ever has his entire life.

He would never go for this.  He is too vanilla.  He’d never let me spank him in the right place so that he’d be wanting to be spanked.   He’s too sexually repressed.

I often wonder what it would be like to return to the lifestyle but this time from the other position, from being the dominant one. Could I make a good Mistress?

I am not a sadist.  I do not enjoy inflicting pain.  I don’t even like hurting a caterpillar.  However,  I can see myself using pain for teaching, learning, exploring.  If I felt like it would better my partner in some way, I may consider it, but only the minimum amount necessary to achieve a means to an end.

Within the context of a loving, monogamous D/s relationship, I could definitely see myself using pain to enhance sexual pleasure. Anyone who has ever done kink knows there is a thin line between pain and pleasure.   Deliciously so.   This I miss.

Alas, this is all a moot point, for I am with an extremely straight-laced, dare I say almost puritanical man with regards to sex.  He thinks kink is sick, dirty, and the people who do it are “fucked up” and “crazy”.  On many occasions he has said to me “I just don’t understand why a person would want to get whipped.”  Try as I have over the years to explain and bridge the gap, there is a disconnect.   Perhaps if one has never delved in, one can’t understand.

Sometimes you have to let certain things go and realize the grass is always going to appear greener in another yard.   Sometimes that’s okay.   Life will be okay even without strap-on fun.

 

 

 

 


The return of “S”

Yes.

Can you believe he returned out of the abyss of how many months having passed…..November?

Sending me an email asking how I am doing.

I don’t know why I am shocked, but I am.

Attached with said email was a beautiful song:it was quite beautiful actually.

I think I should dub him the “disappearing man.”

He spoke of existential angst over spending most of his life alone and fear of his mortality.

I wrote back and let him know that his disappearing act and inability to deal with fallout

from discord from his disappearances is a good bet why his has spent most of his life alone.

surprise surprise, he didn’t write back.

*****

On another note “B” left.

After promising not to leave.

After promising not to yell.

After promising he would “never do anything to hurt me.”

Too many promises broken in such a short amount of time should have been a giant red flag right there.

Too many promises broken period.

He told me when he met me, “my word is my bond.”

Then when he has repeatedly broke his word he said, “yes I did, but you had antagonized me and pissed me off.”

apparently for some,  it only turns out that people only keep their word under certain emotional conditions.

wish I was aware of that little caveat

*****

I don’t know who is worse, me for telling my life story in the first five minutes to a man who doesn’t deserve the trust.

or this man who tells me he loves me and won’t hurt me in the first five minutes after hearing it.

*****

But let’s not thump on poor B shall we.  I am no prize package.  I am insecure, clingy, hide my low self-self esteem behind a well practiced false bravado.   My moods swing like a monkey on a chandelier when I don’t get enough sleep.     I should probably just join a monastic sect somewhere, and live Lord of the Flies style, free of the trappings of society with my dildo.

****

the problem is, the trees don’t hug you back on the island……


About You

I left out the “”About You” section about me here blank.  It feels too much like a personal ad, and that triggers me too much.

The last time I put a personal ad out online it was a fucking disaster.  I ended up with a reply from one man who referred to me in the third person.  “I need me a female between the age of 19 and 25 and require it to be 5′ 5″ and 120 pounds.”

Oh I’m sorry.  Did you just say “it” you sick son-of-fa-bitch?  Because I’m going to wager that the last time you saw a ‘female’ was the storm of 78′. Yeah remember? as you dragged her dead corpse behind your oversized-duel exhaust jacked-up truck with that long metal chain after you chloroformed her and clunked her about her head with a crow bar? back to your rural farm of horrors for a night of good ol’ Square dancing and necrophilia fun.

Mmmmmm, yeah….does that ring a bell now?

Men who refer to women as “it” and “female” as if they are specimens scare me.  There is a level of objectification that is just downright frightening.

Almost as scary was the reply I got from a man living in his mom’s basement.  No, he was in his 40’s and wasn’t down on his luck, he had never left…..like ever.  Very Norman Bates-esque.  Any man who feels comfortable banging his date while his mom listens to her squeal like a pig…..well, the cogs just aren’t firing right upstairs.   Just saying.   A little too close to home I’m thinkin, in a cousins with dozens sort of way.  (shivers).

I always thought the perfect man was Fred Rogers.  He was my hero.  You know Mr. Rogers Neighborhood?  I go to an Al-anon meeting with a woman who knew him and she said he was just as nice in person as he was on the show. When I was small he was a bright spot on my otherwise sometimes dark childhood. I felt as if he truly cared, for me.

I cried for a long time when he died.

*Raises glass to Mr.Rogers*


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