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Need.
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LOOK ME IN THE EYES
He comes home to find his little pup spending her day off by curling up in their bed together ā naked and losing herself to the world resting open in her free hand.
The book slumps out of her hand as she fixes those fae-like eyes to his. Under the blazing afternoon light filtering in through the blinds the green they normally are glisten like uncovered Amber.
A wicked idea comes to him.
āDonāt stop playing on account of me. Why donāt you read aloud for me, you horny thing ā I want to hear why you couldnāt wait for my permission. I want to see how you like to play with yourself.ā
He stands in the doorway and watches as she turns the page and begins to play.
For herself.
For him.
A cadence forms in her adorable business-voice. He knows the one. He hears it through the walls when they work from home together in their respective offices. The cutest thing is in the tiniest details. How the rise-and-fall gives way to the push-me-pull-me rhythm of her moans.
Dialogue comes out in a breathy stammer, hanging on a syllable for dear life as her needy ass gives in to the pleasure momentarily.
He almost loses himself in the moment, watching her hands glide under the covers. His mouth waters and he has to remind his own needy ass to tell her to slow down. She cannot come yet, only edge to that delightful edge of sanity.
The flustered state sheās in is just as rewarding as anything theyāve done together. Hearing her stutter, moan through the dialogue of the book, take a break between sentences to not-so-successfully curse under her breath.
Sheās unraveling before his eyes.
And he canāt help himself.
The ache in his pants is too strong.
He reaches down, dulls it with a squeeze.
It worksā¦for the moment.
It wonāt last.
Heāll need to breed her cute little ass.
Itās always fucking wonderful to see the mess heās made of her dripping out of her beautiful pussy.
Fuck. Heās started stroking himself.
Focus.
But he canāt help it.
Watching her grind her hips up to fuck her fingers.
Seeing just how much she likes to brutalize her own nipples.
Fuck.
Her moans come quicker now.
āStop. Start again.ā
āWhat?? But come on, I just-ā
āNope. Take as long as you need to but stop and start again.ā
Her half-lidded eyes seem to whine and beg as much as the feral, mewling noise that comes out of her.
The cutest fucking thing.
Heās got the thread and he wants to pull it till sheās gone.
The second time he tells her to stop and start again, her face turns a deep shade of red. She actually hits the bed out of pure frustration.
One might say she smacks the chuckle right out of him.
āCan I cum? Oh please can I cum?ā
āPlease hold.ā
āFuck!ā
This she spits out.
But she keeps going.
And going.
The room is a sauna.
Sweat beads along her one exposed thigh.
She kicks off the sheets and shows him exactly how soaked she is.
And how frantic she plays.
The sounds of her soaked ass just makes him want to pound her.
Everywhere.
Sympathy strikes him hard in the chest.
āAll right. You can come.ā
Thank you, she stammers.
Over and over.
Words spill out like water in a bursting dam.
All of a sudden sheās a record caught in a loop.
Trying so hard to get through the sentence even as her delicious orgasm comes over her
āā¦part ofā¦p-p-paaaaaarrrā¦ā
He watches her body spasm, watches her eyes roll, watches the book smack against her tits.
A fleeting thought comes ā he hopes that hurts her. He files it away.
Closes the gap between them just as a spray shoots across the edge of the bed.
Guttural cries.
Trembling thighs.
Sun-soaked tits.
Her favourite pink toy slips from her slit and falls against her clit.
He lays down beside her.
Rests his hand over hers as she holds it still on her.
āLook at me.ā He says softly.
She does.
Her eyes wide and eager.
Barely holding it together.
Fuck, heās barely holding it together himself.
For now he waits.
Watches the colour of her hand gripping the sheets drain white.
Feels another spray shoot across his thighs.
Pool down around his legs.
His adorable fucking mess.
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Rewiring My Brain To Normalise Being Naked
I know. The title sounds like the name of a track lifted from a prog metal record. But itās a title that came to me and I thought: You know what, I donāt mind that.
This might be a bit of a ramble post so if youāve opened this and youāve just got in the car after work or youāre out in the midst of life, wait till youāre home ā in bed, in the bath, on the couch ā whatever your comfy realm is.
So a lot of my upbringing ā the parenting style of my parents, how they raised me Catholic ā would go on to play its role in my sexuality. Or coming to terms with said sexuality. I talked a bit about this during my 30 Days of Dominance, how my upbringing may have informed my dominant style.
One thing it did influence was how I approach nudity. Nudity felt sexual, taboo. Dangerous. I wasnāt naked for myself until I was 13. I didnāt start sleeping naked until, I wanna say, my early twenties. Iāll get back to sleeping naked in a bit. But BEING naked, just in a regular, mundane setting was unheard of. Until I got the urge out of nowhere to strip and go running through my parentās acres of land.
Out amongst the trees, with the wind whipping my legs and a breeze teasing my cock, I felt wild. Untamed. And probably more important, not belonging to religion or strict parenting. I was so giddy I felt kinda queasy. Like I was a newborn animal drinking greedily from a spring.
In my twenties Iād find out I was primal. Which is to say, for those unfamiliar and those passing by the blog, belonging to a state of mind where I think less and feel more. I act animalistic. I let all the thoughts in the moment ā love, lust, goofiness ā come to me and I give it a big olā bear hug. I love storms and I love being out in the rain and now Iām naked a fair lot in my day.
I HAD TO REWIRE MY MIND. Because being naked felt taboo it made it feel wild. Because it felt wild it made it slightly sexy. Because it felt slightly sexy I grew to discover I enjoyed exhibitionism sometimes. The IDEA of getting caught. And because I enjoyed exhibitionism, I felt shame. Which stopped me from exploring being naked.
In my twenties I began to sleep naked. I loved it. It was peaceful, relaxing. It made me realise just how much I hated the feeling of clothes choking on me and not letting my skin breathe. It was no longer a thrill thing, it was a thing of comfort. An act to decompress after a stressful day by eschewing clothes and my societal mask to be ME.
I realised that nakedness was something that relaxed me.
So I took it outside of the bedroom.
I did mundane things around the house. I did the washing. I did my writing. I did various household things while naked. And piece by piece, it chipped away at ā not only this feeling of shame residing in me, like I was a pervert ā but my insecurity. Iām my own worst enemy. The way my ass looks, the shape of me. I was lanky and gross and looking likeā¦well, bad mouthing me doesnāt serve anyone.
I still have those moments where I feel insecure. I donāt think those go away. Not always. I think you just become more of a warrior in managing them.
Being naked more has also just made more aware of my mind as well. Aware of all these little pieces that make me primal or dominant. I feel at home being naked. I feel relaxed and calm. It makes me realise just how much I grumble when I have to get dressed and play the part of me to society and friends. When, really, Iām at home best curled up somewhere naked and reading.
I have so many thoughts and can talk / write about this till the cows come home.
If youāre of a similar background to me and thinking youād like to be naked more ā try it slowly. See how you feel. At a pace that makes you comfortable. More than this, be kind to yourself. Love yourself. Let that inner nudist or primal be free in their own space. You might be like me, you might never go back to sleeping in pjs or something.
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Iām feeling Dommy. Like wanting to take care of a pet. Naked, collared, leashed, maybe cat ears. Sitting on the couch. Maybe she sits by my feet on a pillow of her own. Watching movies. Hook. Or something.
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Show me how you play with yourself.
As a dominant, thereās a long, long list of commands that feel so wondrous to utter but this string of words might be the most intoxicating, for the scrumptious meaning that trails behind the syllables.
Beyond scenes, beyond dynamics, beyond choosing her outfit for the musical weāre off to ā Show me. How YOU PLAY. With Yourself.
A lot is wrapped up in that moment. Iāve given the order but Iāve been deemed worthy to be given a glimpse into a private space. Into all of her.
Itās intimate but itās voyeuristic.
Thereās eye contact and in that shared glimpse the realisation that: No, Iām not going to play with you. Youāre not going to use MY cock to get off, youāre going to play with yourself FOR MY ENJOYMENT. And, hey ā yours.
I think itās more than just liking to watch, more than just a sexy moment shared between two minds, Iāve tugged on a thread and Iām pulling and Iām watching her unravel in real time. Frantic whispers and strained curses and how she adores pinching and pulling her nipples.
That not only pulls my hand to my cock it pulls on my heart strings because I feel this deep within me. Who is worshiping who? Maybe both, maybe thatās the post-flu tiredness talking, who can say. But I just know ā
Itās sweet, itās sexy, the moment is magic. I canāt get enough of her.
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Ride me on top so I can see your face.
Caught in the groove.
Eyes clenched.
Lips trembling.
Letters caught between your teeth.
Hair in messy strands down bare shoulders.
My mess.
Youāre my pretty little mess.
Mumblings of something and nothing.
Hands trying to decide if you should
Pinch
Stretch
Pull
Squeeze.
All of the above.
Iād help you but
Iāve found the loose thread on you
And I want to pull it until youāll unravel
Completely
Before my eyes.
Nothing feels as good as
denying you release.
Watching you collapse into me
Nuzzle my chest
Beg like a needy bitch
To be put out of your misery
Maybe I will
Maybe I wonāt
Keep easing into me
Losing yourself as I fill you
So slowly it tickles your stomach
My gorgeous little mess
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The wild things we are in the shower
All my life Iāve been dominant. In charge.
Setting the orders.
Making the decisions.
Until now.
āOn. Your. Knees.ā
His voice was commanding, laced with an edge that makes my impossibly hard cock ache for release.
Weāve stolen a moment, while his roommate was out, to take a shower together.
My first time seeing him utterly naked.
Seeing a man utterly naked.
Where did it come from? This need?
One day weāre gaming together then the next it changes everything.
It happens as a joke that becomes serious.
Now, here we are.
The words āYes Sir.ā are a weight off my chest.
Anything goes.
There will be time for analysis later.
As I sink to my knees, feeling the water lash my ass, pool around my knees, I canāt pin a memory on the mind board, canāt trace it back to a moment I realised I wanted this.
Submission.
A man.
More than anything in the entire fucking world I want his cock in my mouth.
I want to please.
āGods, are you beautiful.ā
Why does it hit harder hearing a man call me beautiful? I donāt know.
I just know my heart races wild at it.
āIs your dominant mind wrestling with control?ā
A gentle tease in his voice peppers the rushing water of the shower.
Weāve talked BDSM here or there in our 6 year friendship but it was only a few weeks ago he admitted he wanted to try dominating men too. Course, I let slip I was intrigued as a joke. But how much was it really a joke?
Really, wherever we all go are we not simply animals?
A spasm rocks sizzles over my cock as His hands cup my face. Gently. Cooly.
Nevermind his well-trimmed cock is inches from my face. Hovering there, teasingly.
āOn the contrary. I salivate.ā
Gods indeed. I can hear the lust in my own voice.
But it is true. I feel my mouth water.
āOh Iād ask you to dribble but Iād rather fuck your wet mouth now.ā
āWhy donāt you then?ā
He steps closer, his cock now brushing against my lips. Tickling.
Fuck.
āIām enjoying how eager your eyes look. They really darken when youāre horny, you know that?ā
Before I can stop myself I lunge for his cock with my mouth. Like a greedy pup thatās just had its dinner put down.
Itās only when he fills my mouth that I realise I get nervous. His thicker than he is big but I donāt know my own mouth either.
There will be time for analysis later.
He stumbles against the shower wall as he moans but I stay with him, wriggling forward on my knees.
The little pond of water around my ass teases me. All of a sudden my face is buried down in his pillow, inhaling his scent. Iām desperate for him to take me.
Claim me.
My hair being tugged takes me out of it. He controls me. Owns me.
Gods, now I want to fuck HIM.
This doesnāt make sense.
All I know is I canāt get enough of that taste of him. I canāt describe it. I just know my mouth waters for more as his tip slips out of my mouth.
āGods.ā I hear him murmur. āFuck you are delicious.ā
He drowns himself out with his moans. Fuck, that makes me insatiable. Keeps me going.
Pumping his cock like a good eager boy.
This feels different. This feels amazing.
Is this me? Is this really who I am?
His moans are lighter than his speaking voice. Cute.
āFuck, Iām going to cum. I donāt want to fill your mouth, I..ā
Stay, I wanted to growl around his cock but all that came out was a moan.
He was pulling out. He wasā¦
My heart leapt up into my throat. Got lodged there.
A spray of his load dribbled down my lips.
I lapped it up ā again, indescribable. I couldnāt think of a word to frame it.
Another spray smacked against my cheek. I could feel it roll down to my chin.
Another smacked against my chest.
Laughter.
Mine.
Iām being baptised. Born again.
An eager submissive slut.
Thatās all me.
āIām sorry.ā He was panting through the throes of his orgasm. āI didnāt know if you wanted to swallow me, I didnāt..ā
āCome here.ā
My mouth sank over his cock and I lapped up the rest of his cum pumping out.
Short spurts into my mouth.
āI didnāt mean to come so early.ā
āHush.ā
This I said, hopefully not too unkindly, and went back to cleaning his cock.
He retreated from me.
Around us the pipes began to whine.
Wait. That was me. Whining at him because his cock isnāt in my mouth.
He slid against the shower wall and came to sit on its floor, eyes dotted with water beads and looking lush.
He was beautiful himself.
āGods Iāve made a mess of you.ā
āAm I not yours to be made messy?ā
āIād like you to be.ā
Then he smiled and became all the more beautiful. āMy stomach is so giddy. Iāve never done anything like this.ā
āNeither. I feel ļæ½ļæ½ļæ½ ā
āHigh, right?ā
He blushed. Sitting there, water pouring from him, he was gorgeous. I loved that he was still hard.
I resisted the urge to bend down and taste him once more.
āAnything elseā¦Sir?ā
This came without thinking.
I had yet to come. I was ravenous, in a frenzy. My cock ached for relief.
āCome for me.ā
āYou want to taste me huh?ā
āOh Iām going to. As Iām going to fuck your pretty little ass.ā
A moan spilled from my wet lips coated in him and my hand was there, on my cock, jerking fast.
He shifted closer to me, spreading his legs around mine. He kissed meā¦tentatively at firstā¦then hungrily.
Something brushed against my cock.
His own.
āIāve never said this before butā¦anyone ever tell you have a gorgeous cock?ā His voice was a pure, his breath tracing my lips.
āNo one that mattered.ā
Frenzy.
āGood boy.ā
Those were the words that put me over the edge.
I couldnāt contain my cries as my orgasm came out in thick, short spurts over his chest and thighs.
I was still coming down from it as I watched him scoop up my cum and taste it hungrily.
My laughter bounced off the walls.
Pure.
Unadulterated.
Bliss.
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UNFETTERED
She digs deep down into the darkness ā and lets herself go.
Her name is not her name anymore. The letters on her work ID that rests between her tits make no semblance of sense.
The woman that looks back at her from where she sits on the edges of a bed is wild. Unkempt. Raven hair frames her face with curls. Her dark eyes are huge butā¦unrecognizable.
Yet she feels the touch of the woman..pulling aside the unbuttoned blouse, unclasping her bra. Peeling away her black slacks to reveal soaked black lace underwear.
She vaguely recalls somethingā¦something about being home from work, getting undressed, but it feels like a memory.
A lifetime ago.
Insteadā¦she watches the unnamed woman reach for the bedside drawer to her left. Watches her rummage around inside, pull out a thick, purple vibe.
The hand that rolls her nipples between its fingers is not her husbandās.
The voice that tells her to take off her panties right fucking now is not her husbandās voice.
Heās downstairs doing the dishes. She can hear him humming to himself.
While sheās up in their bedroom.
āWho do you belong to?ā
It makes no sense to think the voice in her ear is impossible but it is. Itās deep. With an edge but also somehow a softness.
The answer comes to her but she struggles to make it real. To give her voice to it. Itās there, itās so fucking close, but it takes her a few tries to get it out of her dry lips.
āY-yā¦.Y-you, Sir.ā
āSo why do you deny me? Why do you deny what you areā¦.my whoreā¦ā
āI..I donāt..ā
āOn your knees.ā
The bed makes her wobble but sheās on her knees now, facing the mirror across from her. Once upon a time she didnāt like her tits, their size, their shape, the way they came to rest out of a bra. Now she feels a smile touch her lips as she looks back at the naked woman tracing the purple toy along her slit. Sheās goddam gorgeous.
āYou donāt want to be my whore?ā
The voice comes from behind her. Breath hot on her neck. Sheād sell her soul to feel his hard cock against her ass. Sheād do anythingā¦
āI do ā no, I do.ā
The desperation stains her voice and words.
āThen SAY IT. Say it, you fucking bitch.ā
The words cut through the air and mark her bare back, clawing down to her ass.
At the tail end of the sentence the toy leans into her clit, buzzing hard. She stifles her cry.
He doesnāt need to hear.
Is it he doesnāt need to hear or he doesnāt get to hear?
Or both? This is for her Master.
Her mind is running away with her thoughts. She lets it go.
āI amā¦I want to beā¦your whore.ā
āLouder.ā
āI am your whore, I am! I am!ā
Sheās whimpering in hushed tones.
āSlip that toy inside yourself and tell me who you belong to.ā
Her body jolts, her legs tremble, as the toy spreads her lips apart and slides right in. Her breath lodges in her throat. She has to remember to breathe.
āI belong to you.ā
Sweat glistens on the womanās forehead. Her eyes flutter through the sweat as the toy inches a little further. The sight is knotting her stomach, turning her on.
She feels sick butā¦elated. High?
āMake no mistake, my little slut. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. I own you.ā
āYes, Master.ā
āMaster, am I? What a delightful slave you are. Put on those clamps.ā
She throws back the sheets with her free hand, finds the clothes pegs buried there and slips them on both of her nipples within seconds. Pain shoots through her, startling, pinching. Blissful.
Why was she ever worried about the pain? It seems so welcoming now. Warm. Delightful.
āPull them, bitch.ā
The noise that comes out of her is guttural, strained. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows to be quiet. To hide from her husband.
As she pulls them, the pain increases, gnawing at her, stretching her tits to what feels like fucking oblivion. Where does it stop, where does it stop? Keep going, keep going.
She catches herself falling, shoots out her arms. Is on all fours now, her ass up in the air.
āGod, I want to devour that soaking cunt of yoursā¦that needy fucking cunt.ā
āPlease..ā She hears herself beg. Her heart is in her throat, blood pumping in her ears. Sheās panting hard as the toy pummels in and out of her.
āListen to how wet you are. Listen to how fucking much you want me. And not your husband down stairsā¦ā
A stab of guilt. Her stomachās twisting but she cannot stop herself.
For the love of God she cannot stop herself.
āThis is who you are. This is what you are. Donāt you run from it.ā
She can feel his breath on her thighs. Fuck, sheās actually lifting her ass to him. Her hubby never fucks her ass.
āAll your life, that little cunt, those gorgeous tits, that ass, your fucking mind ā all of you. Youāve belonged to me. You just didnāt know it. All your life has led to being owned by meā¦ā
She desperately shuts in her moans. Lets them buzz on the back of her lips ā fuck, she wants to taste him. Wrap her mouth around his cock and taste him. Better yet ā show how much of a good slave she is.
Is sheā¦a slave? Truly? Fuck.
She canāt get enough of the toy. Rising her hips only to glide down into it, feeling it buzz around her lips. Knowing heās behind her watching her drip onto the bed she shares with her husband.
Sheās lost in a daze, tears in her eyes, when she feels the hand around her throat. Panic comes ā then dissipates. Sheās falling back on her ass but he has her in his lap, guiding his cock toā¦.
Stars. Shining bright above. Specks of light shooting across her bedroom like the cosmos is all around. He fills her completely, all consuming, all around her. Owning her.
āRenounce your marriage.ā
Her stomach plummets.
āWhat?ā
She canāt think.
āRenounce your fucking marriage ā ā
ā All she wants is his cock ā
ā- and my load belongs to you.ā
āFuck..ā
She grips his thighs to maintain some sense of fucking him for herself but she canāt. He has her held tightly.
āNow. Repeat after me. Iā¦.ā
Shakily she does. Lays her full name out into the wilderness. Lays her husbandās full name out into the wilderness.
āI fucking renounce my marriage ā and Iā¦and she belongs to her Master.ā
Third person feels right somehow.
Lifts a weight she didnāt know she had around her neck.
They find a rhythm together, the heat of his chest to her back. His hands flicking her sensitive nipples like some sort of sadist.
āHer cunt belongs to her Master.ā
She swallowed. Her throat clicked.
āHer cunt belongs to her Master.ā
āHer assā¦ā
āHer ass..ā
āis His..ā
āIs Hisā¦ā
āAs is her body, mind and soul.ā
āAs is her body, mind and soul.ā
His grunt was hot on her ear, rattled in her brain.
His cock twitched around her ā and then she knewā¦she felt it. His loadā¦pumping into her. Her lips split into a grinā¦
And she was there, laying on her stomach, her ass in the air.
āMy naughty girl, look at youā¦ā
His cum dripping out from her lips and down her thighs.
The thought sent her over the edge.
She bit her tongue shut, guilt and lust and hunger and sluttiness ā words lose meaning, become strings of nonsense as the world around her flipped and twisted and she crashed into the bed, ass in the air, toy gripped around her eager cunt, thighs clamped shut.
āMy naughty girlā¦look at youā¦who are you? What are you?ā
āI donāt knowā¦ā
āWeāll have to name you.ā
Her chest heaves in and out. Her breath seems impossible to catch up to.
āIām yours. I donāt need a name right now.ā
āYou will in time. So long as you never forget this..ā
The dishes clatter downstairs.
Her head swims.
Alone in their en-suite bathroom, she cleans her toy, splashes water on her face and lit up by the coolness of the approaching evening she slips into her shorties.
Sheās half tempted to leave the clamps on under her singlet. A reminder of her self.
But after pulling them off, she realizes sheās made the right decision to remove them.
The pain is delightful and worth it.
She packs her toy away and takes a look at herself in the mirror.
Sheās a fierce spirit.
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āWould you like your Christmas present now?ā
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You know, my mum always been told the eyes are the windows to the soul and Iāve never really fully understood that until my adulthood. Until I grew as a dominant.
Until someone kneeled before me completely naked and collared and looked up into my eyes.
I get lost there.
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āSomethingā
Thereās something about those eyes.
The faintest, lightest blue.
Like a lake in wintertime.
She stands before him completely naked. Lit by the soft purple glow of her bedside lamp. Thin black choker around her neck.
Head bowed.
Eyes down.
Arms laced before her tum.
Her chest rising and falling with every slow and steady breath.
And her eyes . . . wide and bewitching and alluring. Peaceful.
Waiting.
No, it never goes away. That feeling that heās looking at her completely naked for the very first time.
That stomach flip.
That jolt of electricity sizzling over his body.
That tremble one his breath.
Blood pounding in his ears.
She chose him.
Him.
Considered him worthy of her submission. Her mind. Her body. Her sass regulated full force to him in their private realm.
All that she is.
He has reflected upon that for years.
Writing and rewriting and editing and trying to perfect the meaning, the feeling, the scale of what that means to him, what she means to him, her submissive to his dominant.
His self to her self.
Treading darkness with their light.
Naked under the stars.
Raw and wild.
A tempest raging all consuming and then the storm gives way to the morning light and their kisses are as sweet and soft as the morning dew that beads along their bare bodies.
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Hey all,
If youāve found me from my blog and used to follow me, I decided to start anew ā away from bot accounts and years of old writings of my past self. I wanted to declutter! So if youāve got a follow from this strange new blog, hi hi! Itās me!
If you are finding me for the first time, hullo! Iām an Aussie guy exploring my dominance through stories and journals and moods. I love to write and explore what charges my mind and I hope you do too! I have a blog over on wordpress but Iām rewriting here too! Obviously this will be erotica so 18+ please! But if you have any questions for me, please feel free to say hello!
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BDSM Has Been Healing For Me
āThe fierce warrior shoots him a look thatās equal measures eagerness and obedient. Sheās stretched out on the bed, on her back. Right leg propped up. Hands pinching her nipples.
Her eyes are glassy. Glazed. Sheās His and she is here ā totally, unequivocally. There are no words.
āDoes Sir need to take out His frustrations on His toy?ā
His chest soars with a lightness he struggles to comprehend. Itās her. Sheās the light. She is everything. Affection swirls with horniness and with desire and he sinks between her thighs. They are together, in fierceness and in love and in understanding.ā
Here is a truth Iāve been polishing away at, like a paleontologist digging up the past and brushing away the grit ā- BDSM can be healing for me. Therapeutic.
I donāt mean it can SOLELY take the form of therapy. No. Thatās not a good idea. As hard as it is, taking that step to speak with a therapist should be at the top of the list in terms of approaching healing and therapeutic exercises. Least, it is for me.
But BDSM had its part to play in my pronged approach to healing. Using lessons I gained from therapists - of mindfulness and correcting negative self esteem issues ā I sat in the storm with my dominance. I saw all of me ā my soft spoken shyness, my anxiety and my desires - interests in things the Catholic faith I was raised on shamed you on.
As time passed under this storm I came to find peace and understanding with these parts of myself. I wasnāt a monster. I wasnāt insane. After I shook off my upbringing, I saw what Iāve established as a slice of my love language. Through talking with others across events, forums - that one podcast event I took part in, I realized: these people, men and women, want all this: degradation and humiliation and roleplaying and CNC as much as I do. Itās a slice of their love language, how they connect, how they decompress, how they express their affection. Explore what they canāt quite verbalize.
This isnāt all of me. Itās just another piece of the puzzle. And Iām not alone.
I think through learning that I have begun to tackle my anxieties and my shyness and have found lightness and liberation.
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