Category Archives: submission

An Undercover Kinkster Primer

This is a post that is a long time in the making. It’s something that has been rattling on the fringes of my thoughts for awhile now, mostly because I’ve seen people I interact with get very confused about some of my actions, inactions, mannerisms and motivations. It’s about time that I actually set down on virtual paper a little bit about me and exactly what to expect if you’re interested in playing with me. Warning – this will be epically long.

If I’ve directed you here in during the scope of negotiation or discussion about getting involved in some way, please read this piece in its entirety. I know it’s long but there are some really good things in here that will be very helpful and will avoid lengthy discussions or misunderstandings. 

My Mentality 

Playing with me is a privilege, plain and simple. In my time in BDSM and since I’ve been sexually active, there haven’t been many people I’ve played with. I don’t want to embarrass myself or seem like some horribly green newbie, but suffice it to say the average kinkster has probably played with more people in one year than I have in my kinkster career. I’m okay with that. I’m selective about my play and sex partners because I have to be. 
Why is that? Because I am hurt so easily. Not physically (though I am beginning to have doubts about the hardiness of my bum), but more emotionally. I get attached to people very easily. I’m quick to fall for someone and quicker to be infatuated by them. Someone that shows me any interest or attention is someone who I am susceptible to falling for. If they’re smart, well-spoken, have similar ideals, and play in a remotely similar style as I do, watch out heart because you’re going down. It’s something I’ve had to deal with frequently and something that nine times out of ten comes back to bite me in the ass … and not in the good way. Because of this tendency to fall hard and quick, I am very hesitant to express those feelings. It sounds like almost a paradox there. It’s true though. I’ve been accused of coming off as cold and distant when I do like someone but that’s because I’m trying so hard not to go from zero to sixty with them and look like a giggling schoolgirl. Most people don’t fall as fast as I do and I want to give that person an appropriate amount of time to express some feelings about me back. 
Similarly, I’m very shy when it comes to expressing those feelings. Ask me flat out if I’m into you and I’ll probably beat around the bush, hem and haw, and maybe if you’re lucky ultimately admit to those feelings. Where does that come from? Years and years of rejection. I have literally lost count the number of times that I’ve expressed interest in someone to the tune of “I just want you to know that I like you more than a friend” and that’s literally the last I’ve seen or heard from them. While that has taught me that a lot of people weren’t worthy of those feelings in the first place, it also has taught me to not tell someone for fear of being rejected. Anybody who has known me for any extended period of time knows that rejection is my huge trigger point. It’s what will bring me to my knees faster than a swift kick. It emotionally cripples me when I even get the whiff of something that could remotely be construed under the worst possible conditions as rejection. Even things most people would never dream of as being rejection can be twisted and perverted in my head into someone rejecting me. The lesson here to people is if you’re interested in me – please express it. Tell me. Tell me I’m wanted and that while you may be taking longer than I am to get or be interested in me, if there’s even a remote chance you will be interested in me, it will get there. 
If you do express that interest in me, I will treat you like royalty. No kidding here. I will do your dishes, clean your house, rub your back, get you presents, send you notes, and generally make you feel like the most important person in the entire world. Why is that? Well, simply put – I want you to be happy. I want you to like me. Easier said than done sometimes but that’s ultimately what it comes down to. I’m not trying to make you feel weird, put out or force you to return the favor (though that would definitely be appreciated). It’s just who I am. Long ago I decided my purpose in life was to make people happy. This is how I show it to people that I’m interested in. 
I will get emotionally attached to you if we talk, play, or become friends. It may be on a deeper level than you’re comfortable with, and simply put if that’s something you would rather avoid, you need to tell me upfront so I can save the emotional wreckage for someone who will actually appreciate that attachment.

My Communication

I need it. I crave it. There is no substitute for it. Everybody stresses communication as the most important thing in any relationship. Often times the people who are its biggest proponents end up being the ones worst at it. I will admit that I talk a lot. Often times about totally meaningless stuff and stuff unrelated to any immediate need, want, or desire. There’s a fine line between ignoring that talking and humoring me. My love of talking and communicating is something that is inbred in me. Shit, I’m Italian. It’s what we do. We can turn a 30 minute meal into a three hour event just by opening our mouth and talking about our day. 
Communication for me goes beyond simply talking about random stuff though obviously. It’s telling me your thoughts about me, you, your life, my life, our life, etc. It’s telling me when you’re thinking about me and what you’re thinking about. Okay, sure you don’t have to tell me everything because then there’d be no mystery. But if you’re out somewhere and see something that reminds you of me, it’s taking a picture and showing me. It’s the occasional “just thinking of you” text message. It’s taking more than five seconds to read anything I send you and either dismiss it, not respond, or respond with something unrelated or something short. A 160-character text should probably not get a “ok” response unless that’s all that’s warranted. A three page email shouldn’t get nothing in return. I guess this is the part where I will fully admit to being attached at the hip to my cellphone. You can always reach me and should do so generously. We are all busy people with busy lives and I accept that, but a quick hello says so much more than what you’re actually saying. It makes my heart and soul fly. 

My Play and Hard Limits

This part is hard for me to write because my play style is very fluid and depends a lot on the person I’m playing with. I feed off their energy and interests. Sure, I have some basic things I’m interested in and like to incorporate into my repertoire, but I’m still open to trying new things and seeing what does interest me. Case and point – up until recently I had a hard limit of any kind of breath play. It just made me too nervous. Then I played with someone who allowed me to let my guard down and we incorporated a little choking into our playing such that I was comfortable with it. While the more extreme side is definitely still in my red zone, I can comfortably say that it’s something I’m exploring and enjoying that exploration.

In general, I fall on the submissive side. I have my moments where I want to feel dominant and enjoy trying on that role, but more often than not it feels very forced for me. It’s more like being an actor than really being myself. My job is such that I have to make decisions and being the enforcer of rules all day. I don’t want to come home or have playtime and have to do those same things. When presented with a set of options such as “Do you want to eat at [insert restaurant name] or [insert restaurant name]?” generally my response will be “Which one do you prefer?” This is not to say that I’m indecisive or apathetic. Often times I really do prefer one or another but ultimately having to make that decision is something I would rather not do. This phenomena is not new to me or only in my BDSM life. I’ve been doing this all my life and annoying people when they ask me that aforementioned restaurant question. Something as simple as “Where do you want to eat?” literally creates such indecision in me that it paralyzes me sometimes. This is the place where a dominant personality steps in.

I’ve always been naturally submissive though you wouldn’t know it by interacting with me on a daily basis. I’ve had friends literally stare at me in disbelief when I tell them I’m submissive, simply saying “no way in hell.” Yep, it’s very true. Take me on a journey, a ride, hold my hand and take me where you want to take me. Make me serve you. Push my limits (while still respecting them of course). I will fetch you drinks, be your assistant, iron your clothes, hold your toys while you hurt another person. On the flip side of this, I am not a push over by any means. I’m probably one of the most obstinate submissives you’ll ever meet. I definitely like things my way and having a say in things that don’t paralyze me with indecision. I’ve lived alone most of my adult life and as such definitely have my own way of doing a lot of little household things that most people would probably find weird or unusual. That’s just me. One aspect of this is that I’m really anal retentive when it comes to cleaning and organizing certain things. It makes me physically uncomfortable when things in my immediate surroundings are untidy or unkempt. Stacks of stuff strewn every which way cause me to twitch and want to pick up. Drinks in the fridge need to have logos or labels facing outward. Bathroom toiletries need to be lined up in an orderly fashion on the sink. Little things like that.

Tying this back into BDSM play here, I feel it’s the dominant’s/top’s responsibility to respect those little idiosyncrasies about me. Sure, there’s something to be said about making me uncomfortable on some level. There’s a club in Chicago that has framed photos on the wall just a little off kilter purposefully to make those OCD-type people uncomfortable. Something like that I can respect and see the logic in. Something like knowing about my quirks and exploiting them to the point that it causes me to lose respect for you is something entirely different.

If I tell you I’m uncomfortable with something to the point of it being a hard limit, you must respect that. We can talk about it in a safe setting where there’s no judgment and no worry about pushing those hard limits and I will be okay with this. Often times things that are hard limits are things that are just misunderstood. Rational thinking and discussion could very well lead those me changing my opinion of these things. Until I’ve actually said though that something is no longer a hard limit of mine, you need to respect that though.

I’ve watched a lot of scenes in my time and have listened to a lot of people wax poetic about the idea of subspace, ropespace or something similar to those things. I’ll tell you right now that very, very rarely do I get anywhere close to those things. My brain simply cannot shut off. Maybe that’s why I’m in BDSM – the search for that one thing that will shut my brain off and allow me to simply exist for nothing more than the moment. It’s happened a few times. As a presenter once said (and I paraphrase), “When you get a sub into subspace, they’ll pretty much agree to anything you ask. More whipping? Yes. Harder paddling? Of course. Cut off a limb? Why not.” Getting to that point is part of my quest. I yearn for it. Crave it. Hunt for it. Reach for it. I have literally gotten to the point that I am sobbing during playing because I feel it so close but can’t quite reach it. It’s not an easy thing for me to handle that I haven’t ever been to that place. I liken it to listening to my friends talk about the most amazing baked goods and sitting there being gluten intolerant. Some things are just not possible for me. I hope at one point to get into that place, though I worry that I may not want to leave it.

My Aftercare

With someone such as me who is so into communicating, you’d think I’d be very good about communicating my needs after playing, right? Totally wrong. It’s one of the things I’m terrible at and one of the things I’m demanding from here on out I be better at. Aftercare isn’t something that is negotiable here. It isn’t something that can be glossed over or tossed out like a used cum rag. It is 100% necessary for my mental well being. When I don’t get the aftercare I require, my emotions spiral downward. I can go from okay to not wanting to move for hours on end very quickly if aftercare is neglected. 
Some point can get along fine with minimal aftercare or a short period of drop. I can’t. Plain and simple. After a scene or playing, I go through a few phases. There’s the immediate adrenaline rush of the scene and immediate adrenaline drop right after. Physically I get a lot of the typical symptoms I’ve seen other bottoms get. I get really cold, shiver, mentally out of it, need water, etc. My mind is still cloudy and while the cloudy is something I prefer to sort through on my own, the physical needs must be addressed. Hold me close, pet my hair, look me in the eye (even if I’m shy and look away) and tell me I did a good job. Keep me warm and let me feel your body. This is the crucial few moments where physical bonding means more than what’s going on around you. People might want to come up and talk to us, but push them away. In that moment I’m depending on my dominant/top to be my protector and white knight. I can’t do it myself. This period of time could range from 10 minutes to an hour after a scene. 
The second period I need care is much longer. This is where the previous mention of feelings of rejection come in if I’m not taken care of properly. My emotional drop has previously lasted for upwards of four days after a really intense scene. On average I usually range between two to three days I need emotional and intellectual support. During this time it’s imperative we stay in touch. While we physically may not be close due to any number of reasons, this doesn’t mean you can assume I’m okay and doing fine. Not only this, but I typically reach out during this time in weird way. I won’t come right out and say “I’m not okay and need help.” My brain has been trained to not want to feel like a burden to anyone. I will say stuff like “I’m okay but I’m down” or “I’ve had a rough day mentally.” Please see this as what it is – a cry for help. When I get to the point that I’m actually saying “I need help” you will know it’s gotten really bad. During this time, it is imperative you make me feel wanted and important to your life. Make me feel like my needs are important and you’re paying attention to me.
I was talking to a dominant friend of mine a few days ago and he made some very good suggestions that I hadn’t really considered before about my aftercare. He suggested that my aftercare needs were a lot in line with my little girl side that I have. That the holding, caring, wanting to feel needed, were very similar to what my little girl side needs even when not playing. That after scenes and in that recovery period I have I go into my little girl shell very intensely. I think that’s a very good way to look at it and I’m really happy he suggested that. 
Of all the things that I could stress as important, I think aftercare is perhaps the most important. Even great play and sex will lose all meaning if I don’t get the aftercare I need after. It will lead to feelings of rejection, resentment and ultimately may cause the relationship (whatever it may be) to fall apart in its entirety.

My Little Side

I have two very distinct sides to me – an adult, very capable side and a little girl, very dependent side. They are sides that are co-dependent and intertwined. During the day I’m the capable adult who can make decisions and be in charge with no problems or questions asked. That’s simply what I have to do. I can put on the big person suit and heels and feel in control. When I get off work though I don’t want to be in that position any more. The little girl part of me wants to be taken care of, wants to be swaddled and loved. I want to sit on Daddy’s lap and have my hair played with. Play video games and eat chicken nuggets. 
I’ve talked before here and elsewhere about my little girl side and how important it is to me. It’s a vital piece of my psyche and helps me maintain my sanity. I think if I didn’t have that “out” so to speak I would probably be a lot crazier than I already am. Anybody who plays with me or gets involved with me needs to be okay with that side. Actually they need to be more than okay with it. They need to actually foster and encourage it. I have a lifetime of stuffed animals in my apartment that would freak out a less than committed partner. One of the threshold questions I ask potential playmates is if they’re okay with the fact that I have twelve stuffed animals on my bed every night when I sleep and if they’re okay with the fact that I have to be holding at least two of them. One little mini penguin goes down my shirt and the ever important koala gets held in my arms. If at least those two stuffed animals are not “allowed,” then I have to seriously ask myself if this is someone that I’m really interested in continuing on with.
Being a little girl allows me to not worry about stupid adult stuff that will drag me down and get in my way. It allows me to be me without worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow at work, my budget, gas prices, global warming or any other shit. I can focus and have that escape from things that otherwise weigh me down. 

My Reservations

This is by far not a comprehensive outline of things people need to know if they want to play or be involved with me. I’m sure later today I’ll have an a-ha moment and think to myself “why didn’t I talk about [fill in the blank]?!” So I guess what that means is you will just need to get to know me. I’m not everybody’s cup of tea and certainly not everybody is capable or willing to handle me. That’s okay. I don’t need to be perfect for everybody; I do need to be perfect for whoever wants to play with me. There are some things I can work with and work around, but there are also some other things that absolutely cannot be compromised on. Most of the things I’ve laid out here are things I would be very hesitant to compromise on except in very rare circumstances. 
Will this primer evolve and change as I do? Of course. But for right now, it’s a pretty darn good outline of who I am as a person, a submissive, a bottom, and a little girl. If you have any questions, please ask. I’m an open book and more than willing to share my experiences and stories with you.

The Return to Kink Play

Any of you who have been following my blog for any length of time will know that I’ve been out of the kink scene for … well, longer than I wanted to be. Sure, I’ve been active online through my own various perversions, Fetlife and porn of course, but actual in person play? Oh geeze. The last time I had any good, solid play was last April when I went to SINSations in Leather in Chicago.

The last couple of months I have been on the hunt for suitable playmates who have compatible interests with my own. I thought finding someone who enjoyed dishing out a good spanking and beating wouldn’t be so hard in the third largest city and surrounding area in the United States. Right? Wrong. Finding someone I want to play with is work on so many levels. Besides the obvious trust issues, it has to be someone I have an intellectual and physical attraction to. That alone is a daunting task. They also need to share at least some of my kinks and have a willingness to push through some of the bratiness and little girl behavior that I sometimes exhibit when playing.

Needless to say, it felt like a daunting task. I found someone I trust … then found out he liked kink but not beating. Okay next. I found someone willing to beat me, but with little time to do so when my schedule afforded me the opportunity. Next again. My biggest stumbling point was my anxiousness in actually meeting someone “new.” That could go wrong in any number of ways! (Kink PSA – if someone doesn’t have recommendations from people you even remotely know, it’s best to take things slow and meet up somewhere public.)

I found myself conversing with someone I’d met at SINSations and enjoyed the company of while there. He’s a friend of my friends, well respected and pretty public on the scene. I played my cat and mouse game, leaving hints, suggestive comments and at times outright requests. Finally he said, “Do you want to play?” Thanks to busy schedules and random things, it took some time to finally line up the day.

I soon found myself sitting outside of a “seedy” hotel by O’Hare International Airport. The idea was a rendezvous at what you’d normally consider a seedy hotel and make it feel all gritty and “wrong.” One of my kinks is a bit of degradation play and I loved this idea. We’d talked about some things that were possibilities for play, but quite honestly I just wanted someone else to decide these things. There are a few things that are no-gos for me, hard limits they’re called. No hair pulling. No ball gags (in general.) No extensive bruising in areas I couldn’t cover. I’m sure I’m forgetting some here.

He was lovely through dinner, as expected. When we got back to the room though, I was ready. I’d prepped myself mentally and physically to get beat and my bum was so ready to feel the warm sting of pain. I’ve always found that transitioning from conversation to full out play to be an awkward thing, but thankfully simply bending over to look in my purse for lipbalm turned into getting my ass felt up and fingernails raked across my back. I still have delicious marks three days later from all the scratches.

Side note – You’ll forgive me here if I’m a little sketchy on the details. I was a bit preoccupied to really digest what was going on, but I will give you the highlights. 

Since he’s a rope guy and I’m interested in playing with rope more often than once a year, my wrists were bound so I couldn’t wiggle too much. As he’d told me ahead of time, I got thrown on the bed and my bum got inspected. The glorious return to hands and fists pounding on me. How I missed thee. My body has changed a lot since the last time I played and he found new areas that I didn’t know would be tender and sweet. I guess losing 15 pounds in a year will do that to a person. When I flinched or squirmed after he hit a particular area, that was the cue to focus.

Bound and immobilized into the fetal position, my ass soon became the target for a roll of fun toys. I know someone of them thanks to familiar sensations but I couldn’t tell you exactly given that I was face down in the bed. Floggers, paddles, fists and hands – oh my! Cold lube was spread on my asshole and something cold and hard was pressed in. To my great delight it was a delicious anal hook. Yes, I after admiring them for years, my anal hook cherry was finally popped. It was roped to my wrist and ankle restraints such that when I squirmed too much it would effectively make the hook pull tighter. More blows ensued and I felt the hot glow of familiarity. My apple bottom was soon becoming a red delicious apple, borrowing a phrase from my tormenter.

Here’s where I make another PSA. Anal play in real life isn’t like porn, people. Weird things happen. Embarrassing things happen. One of the most mortifying moments of my life happened. Will I tell you? Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that. The sign of a good top is taking that embarrassment I was feeling and turning into mood for the scene. Seamlessly putting me in that shy, little girl mode that made me blush bright red and apologize what felt like a thousand times. It was a credit to my playmate that he was able to do that and do that well. Am I still embarrassed? Hell yes. Honestly I think I’ll be embarrassed about it for years.

He stood me up and proceeded to pay attention to my forgotten front side. Punches, scratches, slaps and all kinds of other blows landed on my supple breasts and flesh. The upper sides of my breasts and armpit area are still sore. One thing that was lovely about this particular “seedy” hotel room was that there were several mirrors in there, probably more than you’d think for a low budget hotel. There’s nothing like watching someone pound away on your flesh than watching it in a mirror. It’s a fun combination of objectification, degradation and submission.

It seemed we were winding down and we both agreed it was probably better to stop. His theory? Have a few slower, introductory scenes before having longer phenomenal scenes. My pounding, burning ass wasn’t disagreeing and neither was my mind. We cuddled and chatted, exchanging stories of weird things that had happened to us in our regular lives and kink lives. Inevitably parting ways with a hug and an agreement that it was fun, I was on my merry little way back to life in white bread America. My ass felt every bump in the road during my drive, by the way.

Days later I’m left with lovely purple bruises and a wonderful ache in my ass. I’m also left with a desire to do it again and do it more in depth. We didn’t play with a lot of the d/s themes I’m looking for still, but that takes time. Building that connection and that chemistry doesn’t happen overnight and certainly doesn’t happen the first time you play with someone. It’s a slow give and take. For me, it’s a process of learning and trusting to give up power. It’s about finding myself in the mindset to want to do so.

Would I play with this person again? Yes, very much so. My bruises tell me he definitely has the ability and skill I’m looking for and glimpses of the dominance I crave. But much like life, it’s an evolution. Nobody knows where things may take us or when schedules may line up again.

My return to kink and impact play was enjoyable and only left me wanting more. That adrenaline rush is addictive. I’ve long admitted I am addicted to the pound of a fist, the woosh of a flogger, the impact of a paddle and the throw of a glance. The only question is when I’ll get my next hit of my addiction.

Why I Am Submissive

I frequently get asked why I am submissive. What attracts me to the mentality of being a submissive woman in a world full of feminists. How someone who is 2/3 of the way to being an attorney interested in criminal prosecution could kneel before someone and hand over power willingly.

Throughout my life I’ve contemplated this quite often. It’s something I’ve mulled over and spent way too many hours deep in my head about. I’ve certainly attempted life as a dominant woman, but have always ventured back to the safe world of submission. Dominance is like a pair of painful heels to me – beautiful to look at and have on for awhile, but in the end I end up in what is comfortable. I just don’t see myself being dominant for any long term period. It doesn’t come naturally for me.

Submission, on the other hand, comes quite naturally. Whether from nature or nurture (a debate I’m not going to even attempt here), I am submissive and there is no way around that.

When I am submissive, I go into this headspace. People often call it “subspace” but I don’t think it’s so easily defined. It is more than a mental place. It is an entire way of being. It is putting your trust in your dominant that they will care for you and look out for your well being. It is allowing them to control you within the boundaries that you have set up beforehand. Being submissive doesn’t mean giving up control completely. It means giving up what you deem not important. For me, I cannot give up some things and those things are explained when I get into any type of dominant/submissive situation. I’ve often been told the submissive is the one who controls the true power in the dominant/submissive relationship. That’s quite the interesting statement and one I actually believe.

For it is the submissive who consents to be dominated. Whether you play with a safeword (always recommended) or feel comfortable enough to not have one, it is the submissive who is there of their own free will. True non-consensual situations are not d/s. They are rape, slavery or otherwise imprisonment. The submissive enters the relationship willingly and in the same vein willingly relinquishes power.

So why am I submissive? Because by relinquishing that power, I can truly be free.

I previously mentioned I spend too much time in my own head. I overanalyze and overthink. I get moody and bitchy. But when I’m in the submissive role, I don’t have those problems. I exist for one reason – to serve my dominant and make them happy. My own needs, desires and worries fall away. Nothing else matters except for their wishes. I don’t have to think any more. As someone who is often called upon to think about some very difficult topics in my professional life, this is simply liberating. My mind can shut down and I can follow the direction of my dominant with the trust that they will keep me safe and attend to my needs, whether physical, emotional or spiritual.

Submission, especially physical submissive, is incredibly cleansing for me. It is like I’ve been washed inside and out and come out squeaky clean. It’s like the ultimate kind of therapy. I’ve also compared it to dialysis for kidney disease patients. It keeps me functional. It sets me on the right course and helps me deal with my day to day life of difficulties. I feel more centered and capable. Like I can take on any task and know that I have the confidence to successfully complete it.

Not every submissive has the same reasons for being submissive. I’ve talked to many in my time exploring my own sexuality and likely will talk to countless more. I find though my own personal reasons are somewhat common in the general population of submissives out there. We do it to stay healthy. It’s a mental aid in keeping us on the right path.

For my dominant side to come out in my professional life, I will always need my submissive side to exist. There will always be a great need to find strength in relinquishing power to one who knows best for me.

So what is submission for me? Above all else, submission is the path I am meant to follow.