There's the part of me that's simply submissive. I don't want to lead. I want to follow. I want to know my place; to be of service; to feel owned. Lots of people want that. They want to be good and to get the praise and the care, and all's well. I guess that's what you call 'D/s'.
For me, it's not enough. It's a whole lot better than nothing but submission alone isn't enough for me. I'm a masochist. I get off on physical and emotional sadistic glee pointed in my direction.
I don't mean I want some mean and nasty man in my life. I want a nice man in my life who just so happens to get off on being sadistic in the same way I get off on experiencing masochism.
I don't want to be able to predict everything. I don't want to predict much at all. I want to be caught off guard; to feel like prey. I want to suddenly find myself at the behest of his beastly bastardry.
His is a particularly keen, gourmet appetite, this diner with whom I wish to sit at my table. There's no doubt he's a planner and he's orchestrated this meal; soup to nuts.
There's only one detail of this meal of which I can be sure. He'll feast on my desire and I'll come away satiated, because he would never allow me to go away hungry. He can be such a glutton, but he wouldn't dream of not sharing the repast!
Even if it means I'll think of him as the dick that he can be on such occasions, I'll revel in that too. Oh dear. He knows me too well.
For me, it's not enough. It's a whole lot better than nothing but submission alone isn't enough for me. I'm a masochist. I get off on physical and emotional sadistic glee pointed in my direction.
I don't mean I want some mean and nasty man in my life. I want a nice man in my life who just so happens to get off on being sadistic in the same way I get off on experiencing masochism.
I don't want to be able to predict everything. I don't want to predict much at all. I want to be caught off guard; to feel like prey. I want to suddenly find myself at the behest of his beastly bastardry.
His is a particularly keen, gourmet appetite, this diner with whom I wish to sit at my table. There's no doubt he's a planner and he's orchestrated this meal; soup to nuts.
There's only one detail of this meal of which I can be sure. He'll feast on my desire and I'll come away satiated, because he would never allow me to go away hungry. He can be such a glutton, but he wouldn't dream of not sharing the repast!
Even if it means I'll think of him as the dick that he can be on such occasions, I'll revel in that too. Oh dear. He knows me too well.
vesta...you have described one's Master to a tee in in your post.... He is such a sadist and one loves it.....smiles...
ReplyDeleteblossom: Ohhh, have I??! That's so cool. I think that a man who plans out these sorts of encounters is my idea of a saint. You've got a good one there.
ReplyDeleteI try to take good care of her. you were the first follower of my blog, Vesta. We haven't spoken in ages, but I still keep an eye on your blog when I can. My slave is a very good girl, and serves me very well. Couldn't wish for a better slave.
ReplyDeleteWilliam: I remember! How lovely to hear from you. Like me, when your true nature burst forth onto the stage of your life it demanded attention, a voice. It seems your life has changed very much for the better since we last spoke and I am absolutely delighted for you. It's a huge responsibility, the position of sadist in a woman's life. I'm sure you hold it with conviction and a great deal of pride in your girl. My warmest wishes.
ReplyDelete