The keys to my surrender

Posted on by theleathermermaid

For the first time in a very long time, I’m not in a primary relationship or exploring the possibility of one with anyone.  (It’s been 23 years since I’ve been in this position, minus three short breaks.)  My heart has certainly been banged up quite a bit this year, and I’ve had some days recently where I’ve wanted to throw in the towel on relationships altogether because it seemed safer and less painful than allowing my heart to be vulnerable again.

But ultimately, I know that I can’t give up.  As much as I have hurt over the last several months, I don’t for a second regret all that I gave to my previous relationship.  Why?  Because there were moments of sublime bliss that I experienced with him, too.  (Which is just one of the many gifts my former Master gave me during our time together.)  I want that bliss again one day.  It’s worth the risk.

While I am in absolutely no rush to enter a new dynamic, I’m also not the type of person to just sit back and let life go on and figure it will happen when it happens.  I spend a LOT of time thinking: what is is that I really want?  How can I define that in a way that helps me understand my own needs?  It’s not always a conscious thing, but the questions are often rolling about in the back of my mind.  I think if I can answer them, I’ll be better prepared to recognize the right person and the right dynamic when they come along.

And as with so many things in my life, the answers hit me in a flash of lightning.  I was driving alone in my car yesterday, contemplating these questions in that “back of mind” sort of way, when it hit me.  None of it was new information, but it was the first time I’d ever been able to articulate a coherent answer. I realized that my needs in a dynamic boil down to needing to feel 3 things:

CHERISHED.  Objectification is a deep part of my slavery.  I see myself as an object to make my Owner’s life better in every way.  My deepest desire is to be useful.  And I want to feel valued for all those things I provide.  I want to feel my Owner’s affection for me, and their concern for my well-being, because what good would a broken object be to them?  I don’t need to feel pampered or doted on (too much affection can actually make me uncomfortable), but I do still need to feel valued.

DESIRED.  I am a very sexual person with a very high libido.  I think about sex all.the.time.  Sexual service is probably the strongest service I offer, because I have very few limits and a genuine enthusiasm to offer my body for use.  I might not be the world’s best baker, and I can’t sew to save my soul, but I will eagerly take almost anything you wish to do to me sexually.  And so it’s particularly important to me that I feel sexually desired by my Owner.  While sex is far from the only service I offer (my service is truly all-encompassing), in some ways, it is the most important.  That’s why I want to see that hunger in my Owner’s eyes when they look at me.  I want them to want me multiple times per day.  I want our conversations to be laden with innuendo.  I want sexual energy to crackle between us even when we’re just shopping for groceries.  Not every second of every day – this is about reality, not fantasy – but more often than not.

OWNED.  I need frequent reminders of my place – not because I won’t be obedient without them, but because it feels so good to me.  Because fundamentally, my slavery is a desire to be an object that is owned, so actions that remind me of this make me feel reassured and comforted and fulfilled.  It’s important for me to hear “no” even more often than “yes.”  It’s important for me that I know my Owner will indulge not just their wants but even their whims – that sometimes, they’ll ask things of me simply because they can, not because it’s anything they want or need.  They’ll do this because we both get great joy out of my obedience, and challenging me with those difficult “just because” requests allows me to demonstrate the depth of my obedience.

In my experience, the biggest challenge is balancing the first two with the third.  Because I DO need to feel cherished and wanted, and yet, there is a point that it is…too much.  I don’t want to feel so cherished and wanted that it feels like I will be given anything that I want, because then I lose the feeling of ownership, if that makes sense.  On the flip side, it’s possible to make me feel objectified in a way that it makes me feel worthless and undesirable.  And I can’t define exactly where those lines are; I just know them when I feel them.

As I continued to think about this new realization, something else hit me: it’s not only important that my Owner make me feel all those things, it’s equally important that they do not make me feel the opposite of those things.  And that’s actually a really important distinction.  Because I know that it’s not realistic to expect that I feel all three of those things at all times.  Regular life must be lived (job, kids, etc), and while that does not mean that our dynamic ever stops, it does mean that the external manifestations of it might be more muted at some times than others.  And that’s OK.  I’d call that an emotionally neutral place.

Where the problems arises is if I’m feeling one of their opposites: not cherished, not desired, not owned.  Those would be emotionally negative places.  And again, in real life, I realize any of those things may happen occasionally.  In long-term relationships, we all hurt each other sometimes.  I’m not looking for perfection; no relationship could survive that.  But when I find myself in that emotionally negative place consistently, my ability to surrender becomes compromised.

Which, to be clear, is not about Topping from the bottom.  It’s not about saying, “Well, you didn’t give me X, so I revoke my surrender.”  Never ever ever.  But to me, surrender is at its very root about vulnerability.  And for me to truly give vulnerability, I need to have a certain amount of emotional security.  Those three things are what give me emotional security, and their opposites are what destroy my emotional security.  When I don’t have emotional security, I become too afraid to fully open myself.

Of course, how all three of those things manifest themselves will vary depending on the person I’m with.  Because each of them is a feeling, not an action.  Specific actions are not not necessarily important to me.  Intent, motivation, and context are.

And one thing is certain: the person who can consistently make me feel cherished, desired, and owned, the person who can give me the emotional security I need, will receive in return my boundless surrender.  I will give them everything that I am – all of my service, all of my obedience, all of my devotion, all of my worship.

I have not given up hope – will not give up hope! – that I will have that again one day.

To be devoured

Posted on by theleathermermaid

The wolf stood before her, ice blue eyes fixed on her own.

Be careful, girl.  I’m dangerous. 

She saw his powerful muscles and sharp teeth and knew the truth of his words.  And she knew she should be frightened – but she simply wasn’t.  She lowered her eyes in supplication.

You continue to provoke me.  There will be consequences if you stay here.  Do you understand that?

In response, she merely outstretched her hands toward him.  In them, she held a lump of raw meat.

Slowly, he licked his chops in hungry anticipation.

She did not flinch.  She did not move at all.

He snarled at her, low and menacing.

She raised her head and looked him directly in the eyes for just a moment, and then slowly turned her chin to bare her neck to him.

“I am yours to be devoured, Wolf.”

He leapt.

The need to be useful

Posted on by theleathermermaid

I was not in the greatest of moods when I woke up this morning. Today was Day 1 of getting back into a routine of waking up earlier and having a more leisurely and productive start to my morning. It was a habit I’d finally gotten into for several months last year (and I am NOT a morning person, so this was a major feat), but my mom’s death just threw everything in my world off kilter, and I got out of the habit again.

So today, after weeks of putting it off, I determined that I would begin again, no matter what. However, I had trouble sleeping last night, and I was cranky as fuck when I woke up. My mood was so bad that the part of my morning routine in which I’m supposed to spend a few minutes visualizing the future I want, I instead kept drifting off into imagining my worst fears.

Try though I might, I just couldn’t shake my lousy mood, and I headed into work in that frame of mind. When I got there, I grabbed a coffee and settled into my work – work which quickly multiplied. Before I knew it, the day was flying by, in a very good way. I prequalified two families for mortgages – one of my favorite parts of the job! – and got to spend about an hour developing some new checklists for my team. Which also happens to be one of my favorite things, because I am a huge dork and I freely admit it, LOL. I just love organizing things, especially in a way that makes life easier for others.

By the time I left work today, I was in an entirely different mood than I had been 9 hours earlier. I was smiling, and there was a bounce in my step. Why? Because I was useful.

Last summer, when I attended Thunder, I was introduced to the concept of a “kernel kink” by Princess Kali. (Who, BTW, is one of the most amazing presenters I’ve ever seen, and I’m so sad to hear she’s retired from presenting.) In terms of planning a scene, she asked the question: how do you want to feel? What is your goal feeling? And without even a moment’s hesitation, I knew the answer: to feel useful.

And that concept is such a perfect example of what I’ve begun to realize over the years: my slavery bleeds into my vanilla life in so many ways. Although I’m often described by others in that world as being “dominant,” it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of the word. Because I am smart, articulate, and outgoing, I’m labeled dominant, but in reality, if you look at my actions, everything I do is about service. It’s about being useful.

Even professionally, I thrive on that. Why was I so happy night? Because, thanks to me, two families will be able to buy homes. Because, thanks to me, my team will run more smoothly and everyone’s jobs will be easier.

I was useful.

And more than anything, that is the key to my happiness. Allow me to serve in any capacity, and I will blossom.

Suffering and the idea of “sacrificial service”

Posted on by theleathermermaid

So often in this world, when we use the word “service,” we’re referring to domestic service.  Many other times, we’re referring to sexual service.  And occasionally, we’re referring to things you might call support service, like functioning as a personal assistant or a driver.  But I’d like to introduce another form of service, one that I think many of us on the right side of the slash have provided but that isn’t really discussed or named:

Sacrificial service. Read More

Getting what I want – sort of

Posted on by theleathermermaid

Monday night, my Sir and I had a relaxing evening out – beer, nachos, conversation.  It was much needed, as we both have had a whole lot of stress in our lives over the last couple of months.  Because of it, time together has been more limited than usual, and we both just really needed to unwind.  So our casual evening was perfect.

Finally, though, it was time to go.  We walked out to the parking lot and stood by my car.  As he was about to say good night, I found myself blurting out, “Please, Sir, may I ask a favor?”  He said yes, so I asked, “Please, may I have a spanking before we go?” and gave him my best puppy dog eyes.

The parking lot we were in is one that he and I have played in before.  And as I had told him earlier in the night, I had actually discovered recently that it has an even more discreet corner with some good privacy.

He grinned indulgently at me and said, “Alright.  Where is this other part of the parking lot you like?”  I pointed it out to him, and we each got in our cars and drove over to it.

It was fairly chilly Mon night, and we were both cold from almost the moment we stepped out of our cars, so I knew it wouldn’t last long.  I immediately assumed the position on the side of my car, and he told me to raise my dress.

From the very first spank, I was yelping a bit.  In my defense: 1) it’s been awhile since I’ve had a good beating, and 2) my Sir is not a proponent of warm ups.  Hmph.

In any case, I was apparently not yelping enough for his pleasure.  He told me to hold still, and he walked away to the back of his car.  At first, I thought he was just trying to make it look like we weren’t doing what we were doing, because there was a car in the distance.  But when I saw him pop his trunk, a sense of ominous foreboding descended upon me.  Did he have a cane or something hidden away in there?

As it turns out, he did not.  But a lack of purposely-designed tools of torture has never stopped a creative sadist.  My stomach dropped as he emerged from behind his car with…

A snow brush.

“Oh my fucking god.  Are you kidding me?” I asked, as my eyes bugged out of my head.

He may have answered, I can’t recall – but I know for sure that he laughed.  And then told me to raise my dress again.

The next few minutes are a blur of pain.  I’m certain there was more yelping and a LOT more swearing.  I’m also certain that I completely forgot to be cold.  And more than anything, I’m certain that I was incredibly floaty by the time it was done.

When he finally sent me on my way, I couldn’t erase the grin from my face.  I spent the rest of the night smiling and wiggling in my seat to find the ouchy spots.  I couldn’t possibly have been happier.

But as I have reflected further on our scene the next day, I realized that it wasn’t just the fun of the play and the endorphin high that made me happy.  In the immediate aftermath, I had joked about “be careful what you wish for,” but I’m coming to realize that the fact that I didn’t get exactly what I wished for is actually a big part of what made it not just fun for me, but actually fulfilling.

See, here’s the thing: I know he’s in charge.  Always.  I never for a moment forget that.  And I try hard to surrender and to wait for direction from him rather than asking for things.  But sometimes, like Mon night, I just can’t help myself.  And when I do, there are one of two ways it can go.

One: He can say no.  And as I’ve written about before, I kind of love when he tells me no.  Denial itself, not just orgasm denial, is a big fetish for me.

Two: He can say yes, like he did on Mon.

Only, it really wasn’t that simple, was it?  I asked.  He said yes.  Those are the basic facts.  But did I get exactly what I asked for?  Nope.  It never even occurred to me that there would be anything more than a hand involved when I asked for that spanking.

And…I kind of love that, too.  I love the fact that even when I get what I ask for, I virtually never get exactly what I ask for.

Why do I love that?  I’ve thought a lot about that since then, and I’ve come to a conclusion.  I love that because it’s a reminder from him of something fundamentally important to our relationship.  What it says to me is:

Your needs and wants matter.  But it is always my choice if and when and how they will be met.  Because I am always the one in control. 

A control I gratefully, eagerly, and joyously cede to him.

Even when it means being beaten by a snow brush.

“No” is the hottest word

Posted on by theleathermermaid

As I may have mentioned once or twice in my writings, I don’t get to orgasm very often. And when I am allowed to, it’s pretty much never a straightforward orgasm for fun. I can’t remember the last time my Sir allowed me to come that didn’t involve some pain or some mind fuckery. For example, once last year, I first had to edge for 2 hours while we watched porn together and was NOT allowed to touch him, before he finally allowed me release. When I confessed shortly thereafter that I was still horny, he told me I could have as many orgasms with my Hitachi as I wanted in the next 15 minutes – but only after smearing the head with Tiger Balm first.

I didn’t hesitate at all – when you get to come as infrequently as I do, you’ll take any orgasm you can get. 😉 And holy shit, was that intense. The burning sensation was POWERFUL – but so were the orgasms. In fact, I had to quit about 3 minutes in because I got hit with a crushing headache, something that happens to me occasionally when I have multiple very hard orgasms.

But I loved it nonetheless. The sensation of the Tiger Balm was incredible. However, my Sir did mention that you have to be careful with it, as it can be dangerous if you overuse it. So while I’m generally allowed to edge whenever I want, adding Tiger Balm is something I have to ask permission for.

So once, several weeks after that afternoon, I figured it had been long enough, so I texted him to ask permission. But as I’d feared, he did not answer. He was buried with work at the time, and he most likely had his phone off to minimize distractions. So I proceeded with my regular edging, but asked if I could use it the next night, for my next required edging session.

I didn’t hear back from him immediately, which I hadn’t expected. Again, I knew he probably had his phone off altogether. When he has something like that going on, I just continue my stream of texts to him anyway, for him to read whenever he has a break – so that he will know that he was on my mind. 🙂

But as that stream of texts piled up over the next day, I feared he might miss my question if he just did a quick skim. So that afternoon, I texted my question one more time, with the intention of not texting anything else after it. That way, whenever he had a chance to read, it would be the first thing to come up. And my strategy worked: a couple of hours later, I heard his text tone.

I grinned, expecting to read something along the lines of, “Yes, you may have permission.” Imagine my surprise, then, when I picked up my phone and saw a single word:

No.

I’m a bit ashamed to admit that my lower lip immediately protruded into a pout. What??? But I’d asked so nicely! I’d been anticipating a yes since the night before, and looking forward to that extra bit of fun for the night’s edging session.

I expected him to follow with another text, telling me why, or telling me that he wanted me to do something else instead. None was forthcoming. My lower lip protruded further. I debated how to respond. A little cutesy begging? Politely asking why? Finally, I settled simply on:

Yes, Sir.

Because I knew that if he wanted me to know why, he would have told me. Really, all I could do was accept it, even if I was genuinely disappointed. And the more I thought about it, the more I started to grin. Because I really and truly DID want it. And he told me no. And I’m pretty damn certain that he told me no for no other reason than BECAUSE I wanted it. He was torturing me by denying me what I wanted.

And fuck me, if that didn’t turn me on.

I sat on my couch, as the warring emotions played out inside me – the genuine disappointment and the increasing arousal. I laughed at myself for the ridiculousness of it all. I did NOT get what I wanted, for no other reason than I wanted it, and this was turning me on? I really can’t even wrap my mind around this sometimes.

A few minutes later, my timer went off to get up and move some laundry around. As I stood to walk, I discovered that I was so wet that I could feel the slipperiness as I walked. That was just too much. Alone in my apartment, I exclaimed out loud, “Oh my god! What the fuck is wrong with me?”

And then I laughed hysterically at myself. For the whole thing. The nonsensical arousal. The talking to myself. The fact that I was disappointed that I’d been told no, I was not allowed to basically set my pussy on fire. All of it. It really highlighted something for me that I’ve realized before, but that was just so starkly apparent in this experience:

It’s not 100% true that orgasm denial is my primary kink; it’s simply denial itself that is my primary kink.

Oh yes, orgasm denial is the most powerful and intense manifestation of that for me. It is fulfilling on so many levels. But damnit if being told no for nearly anything I want doesn’t turn me on! OK, maybe not the big stuff. We have had some points of disagreement on bigger issues that tore my heart out when I didn’t get what I wanted. But those are in a different category. And while they don’t turn me on, I embrace them in their own way, because they do ultimately deepen my surrender in some way.

The little things, though? I swear to you, if I asked him if I could salt my food and he told me no, it would make me wet.

I am fucked in the head. I admit this. But it turns me the fuck on, so I’m rolling with it. 😉

Reflections on one full year without an orgasm – and a possible future with none at all

Posted on by theleathermermaid

This is it.  Day 365.  At 11:30 tonight (give or take a few minutes – I was a little too preoccupied to be looking at the clock), it will have been exactly one year since my last orgasm.  When I first took the step of giving my Sir control of my orgasms almost 4 years ago, did I ever think I would go a whole year without orgasming?  Nope.  (At the time, it was supposed to be about giving me better orgasms!)  Do I have any regrets at all?

Not a single one. Read More