You, Darkness, That I Come From

You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything-
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! -
powers and people-
and it is possible a great
presence is moving near me.

I have faith in nights.

~Rainier Maria Rilke

* * *

This post is written by bitch - a persona/archetype I play with (see previous posts for context). There are two parts - before and after. Two nights ago i wrote the first, not knowing how long it would be until Daddy and i would play again. Last night Daddy unexpectedly commanded my presence.

* * *

Before

I can feel bitch pacing inside of me, desperate for some kind of expression. I hope this satisfies her for a bit...

i think about Him far more than i want to admit to. i think about Him every day.

Something serious happened in Daddy's life and He's been unable to play since our the last encounter i shared here, nearly a month ago. We have a stronger friendship now and that is wonderful. But i really miss Him.

i feel lost without Him.
Locked away, aching to prowl free but having nowhere to go.

bitch doesn't have a reason to exist without Daddy. It's not the same to fantasize, to imagine His voice in my ear and the electric jolt it sends down between my legs. It's not the same to read online discussions about the kind of play we do, even though i appreciate learning more about what really turns me on...emotional edge play, humiliation, fear play.

Daddy recently called what happens between us explosions. Such a perfect description of the magic that crackles in the air when Daddy has me on my knees in every way begging for the honor to worship Him.

i miss being slutty for Daddy. Some days He would call me on my lunch break and get me riled up before i went back to work. Sometimes He would command me to do slutty things at work, like fuck myself in the bathroom and cum by a certain time. It's such a rush to carry a command from Daddy through my day, to feel the charge in my body when i hear His voice or see His words on my phone.

i want to be on my knees crawling for Daddy so badly that sometimes my body quivers with the ache and the restraint required to keep from reaching out to Him when it's inappropriate to do so. Being devoted to Him means accepting when He needs or wants to put His attention elsewhere for awhile and not asking anything of Him. Sometimes the best service i can give is being invisible.

i knew for years that i had a deep desire to serve, please and obey. i had a feeling about the sort of devotion i could feel for someone who inspired my service and surrender. i tried to offer it to previous Dominants. But Daddy is the first one to bring me to life and show me my dreams could be real.

i long for Him.

After

i was surprised and amazed when Daddy drew me out while we were having coffee as friends yesterday afternoon. As soon as His tone changed, my whole body came alive with "Yes, please, whatever You desire."

He finally gave me some positive feedback, told me that bitch is incredibly hot. And He likes my letters. i like to write Him vulnerable letters. If this is how openly i share in public, you can imagine the kinds of letters i write Him. i tell Him everything. And He uses it against me.

Who knew that in my mission for vulnerability this year, i would explore it as a profound sexual expression? So strange and beautiful.

i wrote Daddy a sort of love letter and told Him my devotion has deepened, because of the emotional intimacy that's developed between us recently, and i am pretty sure He's using that against me. He's upping the ante, asking some things of me that will involve humiliation in the presence of my friends, that i may not actually be able to achieve (He knows i hate failing), and/or that may provoke (dare i say trigger?) the Invisible Girl.

i don't know if i can or want to bring her into this. That's the most dangerous territory there is in my dark places. i'm scared.

Which also makes it the most powerful opportunity for overcoming my fear, for my healing and evolution. If my biggest kink is being a masochist for God, it makes sense that i would be drawn to facing my deepest fears like this. i think the questions i need to answer are whether i believe that i need to do this for my self and whether this would provoke real healing or just heartache. i'm not interested in being an emotional masochist for entertainment. This would have to shift something significant inside of me to be worth it.

Oh, and there would have to be consideration of some kind appropriate aftercare if needed. i don't think i could navigate an Invisible Girl trigger experience without plenty of positive validation afterward to counteract the stories she tells me.

It isn't just that Daddy wants me to surrender to His will, He wants to condition me to become aroused by His fantasies, most especially if they are ones i am resistant to. He wants to change me, to make me better for His pleasure. i don't know if a scenario that invokes the Invisible Girl could ever be eroticized. i don't know if i can give Him this vulnerability.

But i want to please Him so very much. i talked to two friends about the situation today and both of them said they would challenge Him. While a part of me can get riled up and fantasize about resisting Him, my truth is that i really, really want to make Him happy. i want to be able to do anything He commands of me and like it. i want to be the best bitch i can be.

And there's this important piece - i notice something i intuitively wrote in part one two nights ago - Sometimes the best service i can give is being invisible. Just as i'm finding my erotic power in my exploration of bitch, i could find power in invisibility as an act of service.

i am walking the edge with Daddy, taking huge emotional risks by opening my heart in devotion to Him and exposing the places where He could hurt me deepest if He were to cut me with one of His knives.

Ecstasy or despair, it's all God.

The Heart is a Gambler

"The way of the heart is the way of courage. It is to live in insecurity, it is to live in love and trust, it is to move in the unknown. It is leaving the past and allowing the future to BE. Only cowards can avoid a dangerous path, but then they are already dead. The person who is utterly alive will always take the risk. The heart is a gambler." Osho

Kali is having her way with me.

Everything in the physical Universe lives by cycles - ebb and flow, wave and trough, ecstasy and despair.

It is all God.

While being polyamorous and exploring love so openly exponentially increases the experiences of love in one's life, it also exponentially increases the opportunities for growth and heartache. Two months ago I was riding the high of several new attractions and exciting potentials, following my mission of vulnerability to dive deep into what the Universe offered without succumbing to fears and insecurities. I have been nurturing five on-going relationships that involve some sort of sexual and/or romantic component, but four of them are shifting into something different, if anything at all. The disappearance of beautiful relating is confusing and painful.

There have been other heart-achey situations to navigate as well. One of my best friends moved away, someone with whom I had a connection-date nearly every week, a significant loss. Some members of the Imps community decided to drag myself, my partners and the entire organization through the mud in a very public way. And my daughter is suffering from an emotional crisis.

I experienced an unusually bright and active winter, as did the Redwood Coast since we had more sun than we usually see in the Winter months. As the days progressed into the storms of Spring these last few weeks, I have been walking darker terrain. Misunderstandings. Confusion. Public drama. Rage. Rejection. Abandonment. Withdrawal. Self doubt. Guilt. Loss. Grief. Longing.

It always comes back to longing, doesn't it? Longing for something different than what is. Longing for something bigger, deeper, more. Longing for potentials to be fulfilled. Longing to belong, to be connected, to be touched, to be loved.

"Remember what you are & let this knowing take you home to the Beloved with every breath. Hold tenderly who you are & let a deeper knowing colour the shape of your humanness. There is nowhere to go. What you are looking for is right here. Open the fist clenched in wanting & see what you already hold in your hand." Oriah Mountain Dreamer

There is a deeper knowing coloring my humanness.

As I shift the focus of my life towards living conscious mysticism on a daily basis, I find that it is much easier to ride the waves of emotion and longing that move through me. I know them for what they are. While I experience heartache, I suffer very little. I am able to bear my own witness, to watch the shifts as they happen inside of me without reaction, and perceive the perfection in every situation. I still feel a wide range of emotions very strongly, but they move through me without creating chaos in their wake.

I have created a daily life in which I am supported in remembering that all is God, that I am God playing this human called April. I don't just know it intellectually, I feel it in every layer of my being.

I believe God is a consciousness that permeates everything, including us, and that this Divine Consciousness is dancing with itself through the manifest Universe(s). I like thinking that God is ecstatic in its experience of each individual being in existence - from star, to tree, to butterfly, to human. I believe that God wants to know what it's like to be me - and you - with all of our quirks in bliss and suffering.

God experiences first hand every birth and death, every blossoming and every fall from the tree, every love and every act of violence, every beautiful and terrible thing that exists. Can you imagine being conscious of Everything? Some part of me can at least intellectualize it. And some part of me feels an intuitive resonance with the idea.

This is why Mysticism and Tantra are becoming my frame for living. I desire to experience myself and you and everything in existence as God - consciously, as often as possible. I desire to awaken to the beauty of the Divine Experience in every shape that it takes.

My Heart is taking the biggest gamble - to be open and vulnerable in love to every experience and person that the Universe brings into my life - trusting that the deeper I go, the more God I will find.

Traveling to the Edge of Myself

"I’ve been taught: to fear this power (of sexuality and creativity), to fear my feral side, my passion, my fire, my ferocity and uncontrollability. I’ve been taught well to fear chaos, yet it is from chaos that anything new is born." Julie Daly

Daddy read my last blog post and He liked it very, very much. My vulnerability aroused Him (anything i share potentially gives Him power to use it against me), as did my invitation to into darker and rougher places. i've been pushing my limits around vulnerability with Daddy, trying to figure out where i'm willing to expose myself and where i need to keep myself protected. i didn't know that my vulnerability arouses Him until now.

i like that there is sexual power in my vulnerability, that it's a place to feel strong.

He commanded that i visit Him for a blowjob at slavequarters that evening. It was the first time He spontaneously commanded my presence; all previous visits had been scheduled through regular conversation as equals. i was happy that i earned Daddy's approval and desire, but more importantly i was excited that i had done something to bring Him pleasure and was being given the opportunity to do more. Pleasing Daddy makes me very, very happy. i already had plans for the evening, but i could carve out an hour for Him. i assumed this would be a mellow encounter, easy to integrate into my night.

i was very wrong,
and will be certain never, ever to visit Daddy right before other plans again.

Daddy sent me a text within minutes of my arrival commanding me to come in, undress to panties, and kneel at the sofa. i did exactly as he asked. i could hear the shower running in the back of the house. i used the time to stretch my body so that i would be in optimal shape to do whatever Daddy wished, for as long as He wished. i breathed deep and let the world fade away as Daddy became my breath and reason for being.

When He came out from the shower, He immediately put in me in handcuffs and a blindfold. Over the course of our time He pinched me with clips and poured candlewax on my exposed flesh. He used discomfort and pain to emphasize my powerlessness.

He pulled out new knives and showed me a whole new depth of darkness. He used my past against me. He nearly brought me to tears in humiliation at some of the things He said about me and how He desires to use me. He did not allow me to touch myself at all, because He desired to enforce that everything is about His pleasure. In less than an hour He took me deeper than i've ever been psychologically and emotionally.

It was dark and scary

...and really quite beautiful.

My panties were soaked when i left.

*

I locked bitch up after leaving slavequarters. I had to in order to function in regular life.

she's been locked up for five days now.
she's pacing in her confinement.

she's feeling the absence of His attention
and the hunger to worship Him.

she wants out real bad.

Daddy says i'm becoming addicted to Him, and to being bitch.
He may be right.

*

Sometimes we have to travel to the edge of ourselves to find our center. - Buck Ghosthorse

Daddy left some marks with his knives that neither of us could see in the moment. I discovered them at the Imps Social on Saturday night, while playing with a lover. I noticed how desperate I felt for validation. I noticed how the old desperation to be seen and desired and touched, a desperation I hadn't felt for months, was driving my party experience. Having that realization opened the floodgates.

I remembered how Daddy told me i'm not worth dating. There was a deep sting in that knife. For one, it brought how other lovers might feel about me into the scene. That's too close to real. Two, it brought how I've perceived myself in the past into the scene. I used to believe that the only way to get affection was through being sexually compliant with men, whether or not I was attracted to them, whether or not I derived pleasure from what they did to my body. I was used for sex often in my early 20's. Too close to real. Three, Daddy and I aren't dating and it's possible he may really feel that way about me. Much too close to real.

Ouch.

I found myself trying to compensate for the potential truth in what he said by seeking as much validation as I could from my friends and lovers at the social. Once I realized what was going on inside of me, my party experience was altered. I became disconnected, half present to my interactions the rest of the night. My heart hurt. I spent 20 minutes crying by myself on the back porch during breakdown. I've been processing ever since, feeling all kinds of emotions, trying to understand what I felt, why I felt it, and if I need or want to ever feel it again.

I do not want to feel that sting again, but I believe I may need to. My initial response to finding my mark was to tell Daddy that we found an edge that I don't want to visit again. However, I talked to a mystic friend last night and he confirmed my sense that the knives I want to run the farthest from are the ones that lead directly into my healing and evolution.

There is a reason that knife felt real when the others didn't.

Humiliation is an expression of our shame. Shame is what keeps us from shining our Divine Light. It is shame that keeps me from being all of who I could be, all of who I desire to be. I must have some shame about feeling undate-able (= unlovable).

I believe this exploration is an opportunity to change my shame stories in a profound way. The last few years with the Imps have been a boot camp in self esteem and shifting my old wounded poverty stories into abundant love stories. But those old stories are still rooted down deep. I feel them regularly, I just rarely show them. This is an opportunity for direct excavation and destruction of those old ways of believing and rebuilding my Self in stories of power, freedom, love and joy.

How much power is there for me in allowing Him to shatter me with the old stories so that I can build myself up with the new ones?

And I won't be building the new stories entirely on my own. I am held by a tribe of loves who will balance my experience as bitch by shining my light back at me, as they did over the weekend. While I had much processing going on in my head and heart, I had friends and lovers who offered whatever I needed to get me through. Kisses and cuddles. A listening ear. Two of my loves told me how strong and brave I am for doing this exploration. They both said I am amazing and powerful.

My tribe reinforces what is real.

A few weeks ago I wrote Daddy a letter in which I stated my belief that I cannot be broken. It's possible I might fall apart, maybe even shatter, for awhile. But I know to the depth of my core that I will put myself back together again, and be stronger and more powerful than before. I've had a lifetime of practice. Resilience is what I do best.

Even this, writing these blog entries, is a way of using my experience as bitch to claim my power as a writer and a sexual explorer. There is something in this for more than me, I can feel it. My willingness to walk into darkness and share the story with you is valuable. I'm finding a significant lack of psychological exploration around humiliation and degradation play online. Most consider it edge play and from what I can tell, most would think what Daddy does is pushing the edge too far.

At the moment, I think his knives may be just sharp enough.

The other thread by thread makes beauty more naked

Penelope and Odysseus as One Person

One wants the world. The wing of dawn
beats in him: More! More!
The other never stirs from the loom.
An ancient rhythm repeats:
“Less—less—
the real traveling is inward.”

One loves storms and clouds,
says death is a skyless country.
The other prefers trees,
says death is a cloud of leaves
where at last we understand
the sayings of the wind.

One asks why rest—
the horrible gallop of minutes
will trample us if we stay.
The other stops to caress
a single plume of grass;
leans to petals glistening with rain.

One craves extravagant words,
says to a love, “Enchant me.”
The other thread by thread
makes beauty more naked;
weighs a shiver of sunlight,
the stream closing around the hand.

One lets the first smudge of light
erase all dreams,
now as useless as daytime stars.
The other gathers dreams
like lost feathers,
the sky a nest of horizons.

A membrane of memory
grows between them,
a tapestry of tides and tales.
The wave and the shore,
they breathe one breath,
a sea, a story of return—

the moon in a fisherman’s net.


Ionna-Veronika Warwick