Wednesday, April 6, 2011

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.


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.

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