Inside the mind of a submissive man

I just came across a slew of new (to me) submissive male/dominant woman blogs, and some of the writing there just blows me away. It’s so raw and real and intense, and having just had a pretty intensely kinky week myself (more on that later), I am grateful when I see others talking about their kinks and what it means to them. This may be my bias or misperception, but sometimes I feel like kink is often so showy; it’s about impressing someone, whether it’s your top or the people in your local scene, or the internet, with how much you can take, or what you look like doing it. And in my opinion, yes, sometimes showing off or being somehow public with your kinkiness can be part of the fetish, but I’m much more interested in the inner transformations people go through, in what they think they’re capable of and what they actually are. I think this blogger, Under the Boot, expresses that push/pull so well – the desire for pain, and the acknowledgement that yes, it’s actually painful. That in the moment, we may long for it to stop, but we really don’t want it to.

Me, I’ve been on both sides of that, and of late have discovered my capacity for cruelty. Well, within a BDSM context. I’m discovering that when I’m with a submissive partner, as I was recently, I want to inflict pain on him, but not just for his sake. There is something so carnal and powerful and exciting, not to mention arousing, about taking someone to that place, about getting off on their pain and squeals, about making them, literally, submit to your will. And I actually believe that both players, or sides, in BDSM, have much in common in terms of the transformative aspects of kink. I went to a wonderful exhibit while I was in London called Seduced at the Barbican and came across this quote from Paul Schmidt about Mapplethorpe’s work:

“We drag ourselves through darkness and hope to come out into light, no longer the same, but OTHER.”

I thought it was quite, quite apt.

From the blog Under the Boot:

I want to be hurt. More than that, I want to be taken to my limits. Hell, I want to find those limits and watch — no, feel — her dance past them a bit. Show me I’m stronger than I think. I want her to hit me and hit me and get me to the point where I want to use the safeword.

I’m simultaneously aroused and ashamed to say I want her to bring tears to my eyes.

I want to be clamped and struck and slapped and have my hair pulled and I want her to hit my cock with a riding crop and bite me. I want her to scratch her name into my back. Over and over again. I want marks and stripes and I’m okay with blood.

She…the last time I was up there, she took these big clips and clamped them on my nipples. And then she started trying to whip them off with the crop and then the flogger. The problem is, I suspect that trick works better with clothespins. So she sat there for five minutes, hitting and hitting and hitting and those fucking clamps never budged, and it hurt, so fucking much, worse than anything she’s ever done to me. I didn’t tell her how bad it hurt because I loved it. I didn’t want her to hold back in the future. My nipples were so sore the rest of the weekend, and so every time she twisted them or bit them or hit them, it fucking hurt so much worse than normal, because of this one session.

But I loved it. I loved it so much, I can’t even express how it felt to have her standing over me with that flogger and just swinging and for my chest to feel like one big glowing sun of pain. I could see her face, normally when she strikes me, when I’m on my hands and knees or on my belly, I can’t see her, and I could watch her as she did it, and she looked so peaceful and angry and thoughtful at the same time.

Fierce, indeed!

Photo by Nadya Lev from Fierce Couture

“Am I a Masochist?”

Blogger Unsepeakable Axe, who describes himself as “A New York submissive, masochist and romantic, “wookin’ pa nub” and trying to have fun along the way..,” asks “Am I A Masochist?”

Some define a masochist as someone who can take a lot of pain, others say its someone who can have an orgasm from it.

I’ll say, from my limited experience with caning, that I’m more of the former. But then again, I’ve never been caned by someone I was really into.

One of the hottest experiences in my life was when I was out on a date with someone, we were making out and she dug her fingernails deep into my side (so deep I had marks in my side for months and months afterwards).

I was in heaven. She whispered in my ear “I love that you’re a pain-slut”. It wad one of the sexiest things anyone has ever said to me. Sadly that was as far as it went with her.

I do know that, when it comes to caning, I can usually take a lot of pain. I friggin’ love it. I love taking it for that person, feeling their power and….ok I guess I am getting turned on by it.

I also love the emotional release. I’ve only had one really really good beating and I ended up crying because of it (and because while in deep subspace I thought heard the voice of the woman I was desperate for at the time).

read the whole post

“Writing the Whip” – Diary of a Dominatrix

There’s an ongoing Diary of a Dominatrix over at SMITH Magazine called “Writing the Whip” that’s very interesting reading. Here’s part of a piece about kidnapping sessions:

Hunt and capture. Both of these cases were consensual. The former session, though, comprised of planned details, a stun gun, and a sturdy sense of humor. I had prepped the studio with equipment ready at the door to lock X into heavy metal. I kept X in chains or in the cage for the entire time. I bound Arjen in rope and duct tape after we had shed our clothes. Even while I whipped his chest with a short rubber cat, I seduced with my body language and eyes. I still kept him safe. I kept him captive by simply telling him that he was not allowed to leave the room. In the morning, I stepped out to retrieve coffee and have breakfast with my friends. Arjen was hogtied by the bed, the “Do Not Disturb” sign was on the door handle. If he had asked to leave, given an excuse of a job or fear, I would have let him go. X could have broken into tears, screamed, shouted bloody murder and I wouldn’t have him go unless I heard the word, “Mercy.” I knew him too well.

I love kidnapping. As a break from my daily routine and duties as a Domina, it’s a great scene to plan, as well as a great spontaneous night adventure. In my own seduction scenarios, my sadistic sensual-sexual needs are satiated. In my professional sessions, I make sure the captive feels they are completely used. At the same time, my sadistic psychosexual needs are satiated. For X’s case, he gets his money’s worth because it is a fantasy he wants to happen, a fantasy unlikely to happen if he leaves it to chance. After all, odds are unlikely you’ll visit a bar and have a capable, trustworthy Domina choose you to kidnap for the eve.

Five women in catsuits

I couldn’t resist all the shiny latex of these catsuits, not to mention the sexy women in them…the best part is that it’s from a Flickr user called Black Latex Catsuit whose photos are all of women in catsuits. I’ve also edited an erotica anthology called Rubber Sex, out in May, and the overlap between the topics fascinates me. Enjoy!