Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Too Nice to be a Domme

I find it amusing and depending on the delivery, somewhat annoying when I am accused of being "too nice to be a domme." I have been making appearances at some of the local kink events lately, seeing old friends and making new ones. It is usually somebody new to the bdsm lifestyle who says this to me, but occasionally I am surprised by hearing it from somebody who, through years of experience, should know better.

It is true that some who practice power exchange stay in their chosen role twenty-four/seven. I am not one of those people. I do not wish to confuse you, dear reader, and I am aware that most of the writing here has been in the role of a sadistic dominatrix. At the risk of bursting your little fantasy bubble, and maybe in order to, I want you to know that I am much more than the role I portray here. I have a vanilla life, just like you do. And just like you, there is a part of me that craves the joy that can occur through sadomasochistic power exchange. My inner domina comes out to play only with mutual, negotiated consent. It takes a concentrated level of mental, emotional, and physical focus to play the way I do. I inhabit a fantasy land that can be entered through the ritual of placing a play collar on your neck. You can join me there, and we can be anything we want to be. You allow yourself to suspend disbelief. You become my pet, slave, slut, servant, doll, doggy, baby, footstool, human soccer ball,  whatever we want. It is intense and very real! I will control it, and when it is over, I will return you to your every day reality. Safe and sound. High on endorphins.

So, yes, I am a very nice person. At least my whipping boy thinks so. Even when I covered his back with whip marks and deliberate, painful wrapping of the lash. He was five minutes early, and I wanted him here exactly at three o'clock!