Friday, August 08, 2003
It's a start...
It's been on my mind forever. My world has rejected me for so many times already, it has to change. Now I know how the Christian God must feel like. No wonder he's inundated the world, cursed Sodom and Gomorrha, set loose the ten plagues on Egypt, and yet--
What power do I have?
So it's come down to this: acceptance of the dickhead, to be accepted by the dickhead. To be or not to be, what a question. It's a power question. That I should initiate such a paradigm shift. So this is how to create a world. It's all in my head.
The entire universe is in my head. In this universe, the dickhead accepts me for the purpose that I serve. It is to please the dickhead by submitting to him, thus, affirming his power--over me, over his life, over everything within reach. It all happens inside a motel room. It's sex. Bondage. Domination.
And through it all, I am shaped, I am affirmed, I am justified.
I call myself a novice submissive. I am actively looking for my Dom. I am on sex and swinger sites. I am all over the net.
I have angsts. I have frustrations. I have issues.
I have secret lusts. I have deep desires. I have needy needs and clingy emotions.
I hide all these, and show a cool demeanor, a strong character. I am in full control and I am a wreck.
Emyngalad
My life's supposed to start this year, my fortieth. I couldn't wait for it to start on its own, you know, kids, marriage, career. Not necessarily in that order. So I took a turn and thought I'd follow it on its own path. See what happens.
Ten years ago, I ended a long term relationship, which wasn't working, anyway, and decided to pursue a career in law. I went to school and worked hard, supporting myself through it all. It wasn't a brilliant performance. I was an adequate student, no brilliant insights, no sparks of genius. During this time, I taught myself to be the kind of person I wanted to be: strong, self-reliant, street-smart--in short, everything I needed to be to survive in a harsh reality. There were new things to learn, and old things to unlearn. It was tough but exciting. It was lonely being alone, but I had so many things to overcome.
After finishing school, I took the qualifying exams and failed. I took it twice more after that, consistently failing. After the dust settled, I took a good look around me and found nothing. For all my efforts to improve myself, I had just that to show for it. Nothing. And people just don't care. Nor should they. They have their own lives to live.
I was old and alone. Nobody wanted me. The brilliant people I studied under didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was a failure and no one wants to be reminded of failures. I was past marrying age, no one wants an old maid, especially one who wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I didn't fit the mold, to start with. I was too tall, too large, too assertive, too aggressive, too smart for a woman. In my world, women are demure, sitting beside the phone, or reclining on the bed, waiting for her man. I did that but no one came.
I was lonely. I'm still lonely. I don't feel sorry for myself. I know who I am and what I am capable of. I'm warm and loving, sensitive and intelligent. I'd make a remarkable partner for some lucky guy out there. If not, I'd make sure I was. People who know me believe that I would. It's been a fifteen-year-struggle. Anyone else would hvae buckled under the pressure. But I haven't given up yet. Not on me, not on others. They'll come around. I'll just have to make them.
This is an account of a journey. A travel log. A start.
Mara
I'm confused, I ask her questions. She clarifies wonderfully, sets me right in my head. She thinks Europeans are cold. She gets along with them quite nicely. She's cold, yes, but she sets me right, in my head.
We've been friends for a decade. We're not close, just for dinner and drinks. Friends for fun. I've never had the chance to share heartrending moments with Mara. I never had the urge to, come to think of it. But this journey into submission started because of Mara. Cold, faraway Mara. She doesn't seem to melt, nor does she seem to want to.
Perhaps it's because of age. She's a good eight years older, more experienced, more exposed, less inhibited. Accomplished, talented, bright. Impatient, unrelenting, unforgiving. Mara, my mentor. She thinks I should go see a shrink to set me straight, in my head, as to why I feel so rejected.
Alex
Mara's friend and lover. A strong Dom. Cold, distant. He makes sure that he is unreachable. He reminds you that he is unreachable, becoming inconsiderate in the process. He reminds me that he has other lovers. He is quick to point out that there is no point in comparing people but Mara always knows, down to the very second, when it was the last time they made love while I can't even remember exactly when I saw him last. Humiliation? Breaking down the sub? When we didn't even formally agree on a D/s "arrangement?" He wouldn't call it a relationship, as there is no such thing between him and me.
Alex more than satisfies my sexual desires. He takes me to my limits and coaxes me a bit further each time. But he is cold, distant. I get frostbite everytime I reach out for him. What warmth there is in him, he has hidden so deeply, it's gotten lost. His smile is icy, and his eyes, behind heavy walls of stone and steel.
I asked him to make me his sub. He said no. He didn't think that such an arrangement was good for me. He thinks that I should seek professional help.
Dax
Fat boy. Tied me up and gagged me, then asked me to struggle. He got off on watching me. We didn't get to fuck. Small dick, went limp the moment it touched pussy. It was play rape without the rape. The surprising thing was, I got thoroughly excited. It's been plain vanilla so far with Alex and the rest of Mara's Euro friends. But this was an eye-opener for me. I appreciate Dax for that, if only for that. Well, yes, only for that.
This is tiring. Too much admission. Heavy on the heart.
Next: Peter and Noe
What power do I have?
So it's come down to this: acceptance of the dickhead, to be accepted by the dickhead. To be or not to be, what a question. It's a power question. That I should initiate such a paradigm shift. So this is how to create a world. It's all in my head.
The entire universe is in my head. In this universe, the dickhead accepts me for the purpose that I serve. It is to please the dickhead by submitting to him, thus, affirming his power--over me, over his life, over everything within reach. It all happens inside a motel room. It's sex. Bondage. Domination.
And through it all, I am shaped, I am affirmed, I am justified.
I call myself a novice submissive. I am actively looking for my Dom. I am on sex and swinger sites. I am all over the net.
I have angsts. I have frustrations. I have issues.
I have secret lusts. I have deep desires. I have needy needs and clingy emotions.
I hide all these, and show a cool demeanor, a strong character. I am in full control and I am a wreck.
Emyngalad
My life's supposed to start this year, my fortieth. I couldn't wait for it to start on its own, you know, kids, marriage, career. Not necessarily in that order. So I took a turn and thought I'd follow it on its own path. See what happens.
Ten years ago, I ended a long term relationship, which wasn't working, anyway, and decided to pursue a career in law. I went to school and worked hard, supporting myself through it all. It wasn't a brilliant performance. I was an adequate student, no brilliant insights, no sparks of genius. During this time, I taught myself to be the kind of person I wanted to be: strong, self-reliant, street-smart--in short, everything I needed to be to survive in a harsh reality. There were new things to learn, and old things to unlearn. It was tough but exciting. It was lonely being alone, but I had so many things to overcome.
After finishing school, I took the qualifying exams and failed. I took it twice more after that, consistently failing. After the dust settled, I took a good look around me and found nothing. For all my efforts to improve myself, I had just that to show for it. Nothing. And people just don't care. Nor should they. They have their own lives to live.
I was old and alone. Nobody wanted me. The brilliant people I studied under didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was a failure and no one wants to be reminded of failures. I was past marrying age, no one wants an old maid, especially one who wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I didn't fit the mold, to start with. I was too tall, too large, too assertive, too aggressive, too smart for a woman. In my world, women are demure, sitting beside the phone, or reclining on the bed, waiting for her man. I did that but no one came.
I was lonely. I'm still lonely. I don't feel sorry for myself. I know who I am and what I am capable of. I'm warm and loving, sensitive and intelligent. I'd make a remarkable partner for some lucky guy out there. If not, I'd make sure I was. People who know me believe that I would. It's been a fifteen-year-struggle. Anyone else would hvae buckled under the pressure. But I haven't given up yet. Not on me, not on others. They'll come around. I'll just have to make them.
This is an account of a journey. A travel log. A start.
Mara
I'm confused, I ask her questions. She clarifies wonderfully, sets me right in my head. She thinks Europeans are cold. She gets along with them quite nicely. She's cold, yes, but she sets me right, in my head.
We've been friends for a decade. We're not close, just for dinner and drinks. Friends for fun. I've never had the chance to share heartrending moments with Mara. I never had the urge to, come to think of it. But this journey into submission started because of Mara. Cold, faraway Mara. She doesn't seem to melt, nor does she seem to want to.
Perhaps it's because of age. She's a good eight years older, more experienced, more exposed, less inhibited. Accomplished, talented, bright. Impatient, unrelenting, unforgiving. Mara, my mentor. She thinks I should go see a shrink to set me straight, in my head, as to why I feel so rejected.
Alex
Mara's friend and lover. A strong Dom. Cold, distant. He makes sure that he is unreachable. He reminds you that he is unreachable, becoming inconsiderate in the process. He reminds me that he has other lovers. He is quick to point out that there is no point in comparing people but Mara always knows, down to the very second, when it was the last time they made love while I can't even remember exactly when I saw him last. Humiliation? Breaking down the sub? When we didn't even formally agree on a D/s "arrangement?" He wouldn't call it a relationship, as there is no such thing between him and me.
Alex more than satisfies my sexual desires. He takes me to my limits and coaxes me a bit further each time. But he is cold, distant. I get frostbite everytime I reach out for him. What warmth there is in him, he has hidden so deeply, it's gotten lost. His smile is icy, and his eyes, behind heavy walls of stone and steel.
I asked him to make me his sub. He said no. He didn't think that such an arrangement was good for me. He thinks that I should seek professional help.
Dax
Fat boy. Tied me up and gagged me, then asked me to struggle. He got off on watching me. We didn't get to fuck. Small dick, went limp the moment it touched pussy. It was play rape without the rape. The surprising thing was, I got thoroughly excited. It's been plain vanilla so far with Alex and the rest of Mara's Euro friends. But this was an eye-opener for me. I appreciate Dax for that, if only for that. Well, yes, only for that.
This is tiring. Too much admission. Heavy on the heart.
Next: Peter and Noe
