Stream of consciousness – BDSM edition

When you say, “Sir”, it sends a frission through me. It ignites me like treated wood, builds burn to bright. My possession of you leads to possibilities of public and private. A touch to remind, a choker to mind, a corset to bind, harsh hemp rope making you mine. We are everyday. We are happy. You spark and burn when shocked and bled. My beautiful girl. Mine, mine mine, growl pours from lips to teeth biting clit. My need for you, my joy for you, each touch and sentence spoken, binding us closer. Commands become the choice of happiness and we move in tandem. You to hurt me as I command. My pain is pleasure and you are never denied. Passion pours from us in simple touch, the light in our eyes making truth where others see betrayal. We are blood and hope and fit together. The only thing improper is desire left to rot. But you hop and smile and say Sir. An exploration of boundaries, of each desire taken to the bleeding edge. Our comfort in the choices of each other. Of each other.

Thoughts on writing about kink

Any time I post something pertaining to kink, I tend to get more kink followers.  And I read their words and I am reminded that I want that too.  Not just the romantic or sensual things but the Dominance and Submissive dance, the pain and pleasure.  I want it both.  The emotional side and the Switch(master predominant) side.  I don’t want to have to choose.  I know that I will, if I must.  But I would rather both.  The reminder is like a building fire with no outlet.  It can make me reckless. Maybe this is a TMI situation, but I’ve never been accused of shying away from brutal self discovery. 

Not happy

So, I’m not sad. That’s great right? But I’m not happy either. Sure there are moments of wonder and joy. Whole hours, sometimes. Hours where I couldn’t conceive of a better world. However, I’m not happy. I’ve known happiness. I’m just not now. So why am I not happy? I suppose it’s because I am alone. And I hate being alone. There are those that swear by being single, that it’s so great, blah blah. Not me. I hate it. I like having someone in my life. I like having to compromise on where we go to dinner or who feeds the cat. I like discussions where we are frustrated and can’t seem to get our point across. I’m a relationship guy. But I also have certain things I’m looking for in a partner. Intelligent, creative, open minded and likes me as much as I like them. It’s a short list. But a difficult one, apparently. These people are all already taken. Or something. But that’s why I’m not happy.

And before anyone jumps on with, you have to be happy with yourself first or some other trite piece of advice, what makes you think I’m not happy with myself? I won’t lie and say I’m perfect but I change, I grow and that’s all we can realistically do. The only finality in this life is in its ending.

The fire builds

I’m trying to write and thoughts of you slip in. I try to keep writing, but now I’m only asking myself, what are you up to. I’m thinking about what we can do together, what you think, what you’ll say.
The thrum like a plucked string when you call me Sir. How everything falls away, casual conversation and my day. One word and I am laser focused, need and desire building inside like a runaway thermonuclear reaction. The pain of us being so far from each other. I need you.

I’m losing my mind, out of control with desire. Want to throw you down and take you. Animalistic need drives through me like a flood. All controlled by the walls of Sir. Touch you to awaken your fire, burn with me. My dear, my little miss, mine.