Nightmares are also dreams Part 21-Pel

I watched from the archway. Sunlight through the gauze day curtains soaking into hardwood and emitting the soft glow of reflection. Tara, all tall and wearing her scars inside her, drew her nude body down onto the silk sheets. Her eyes lost for a moment while she ran her hand against the silk. Lost in sensuality or memory for a moment. She reaches for Mr. Fox. A two foot long anthropomorphic fox dressed in overalls, soft faux fur covering plush. Huggable and squishable.

Tara teases Mr. Fox along Sara’s body. And I’m lost in the sensuality of it. Yet this is in direct contradiction of my order. And still I find myself unwilling to break the tableau. Unwilling to reassert my will. The thought of Tara, blood spattered and shell shocked from earlier, pauses in my mind.

Does she try to find control in the act of sensuality. In knowing she has nothing to fear from Sara. Especially in the coiled serpent of the hind brain which sees prey tied down and helpless. However, false the image is. Quick release cuffs and desire are all that hold Sara to the bed.

Did she make the conscious decision to act counter to order or is this impulse? In a way, it is irrelevant. At some future point, I will need to punish her for it. Not what she does but that she failed to ask permission to do it. I’ll keep it in the back of my mind but I won’t be using it today.

She acted in accordance with her rage earlier and she finds herself empty now. And wants to fill that hole with love and comfort. I know that feeling. And I want to encourage her to indulge in this appropriate space.

Despite what is often portrayed, being a Master is not about the scene. Scenes are negotiated ahead of time.

Being a Master is seeing what occurs and acting in accordance with the spirit of the rules you’ve laid out. It’s holding your submissives in your heart and always acting from a place of love.

This infraction by Tara will result in something small like a extension of a time out when she does something else which is a infraction. Something which hurts the dynamic or is an obvious bid for punishment.

Had Sara done the same thing, I would know that the punishment she would incur would have been a part of why she did it. And I would indulge her in something brutal and creative. Because, for her, this is the dynamic we’ve agreed upon.

Some may argue that I am too much in my head on these things. Or complain that I don’t adhere to a single rule set. But really, it’s all about taking care of my loves in the ways that they desire and need.

Master is a dirty word.

I have never been a master of anything. And even of the people who have called me master, I was not a master. To be a master is to say that I am at the pinnacle of my abilities.  There is no higher that I can go that is not simply a reimagining of the thing in which you claim mastership of. And it’s total bullshit. Because the reality is that you are not the best at what you do. Not only is there someone better than you, there is also someone better than them. 

Think about that. Not only are you not the best, you’re not even second best. You are at best, third best. And that’s good. Really. It is. Because as third best you know that there is a place to go. You can’t sit on your ass content in the knowledge that you can learn nothing more, strive for nothing more. Instead you have more to learn. More to grow. And that is the greatest gift you can give.

Because as long as you can grow, you can change. And as long as you can change, you can overcome that seemingly insurmountable goal. Because you are not the best. Because if you were the best and you couldn’t do it, well then, it simply can’t be done.

But you are not, and it can.

So how do you get past it? How do you overcome it? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not by sitting on your ass waiting for it to present itself. Waiting for it to be.

You need to work towards that goal. Because while it may be coming slowly, if you are sitting on your ass when it presents, you will be in no state neccesary to take advantage of it. And it will pass you by. And with you on your ass, it will be all you can do to waive at it, as it speeds by.

But if you had been working towards it, you would have matched speeds and climbed aboard. Because you had done the work to get there.

You have to get up every day and do something to further your goal. You have to try to be ready to jump when it comes. And you have to not lose heart. Because 3rd place is not second loser, it is the place from which winners launch.

Keep working. Not towards mastery. Not towards some impossible goal. Define a goal. Write it down and follow through. Start small but do a little more until you are screaming from how much it is. Then do that for awhile, until it becomes easy. Then do more. We are only as limited as we allow ourselves to be. More is always possible.

If you get off your ass.

Regarding the Valentine’s Day story

Regarding the Valentine’s Day story

I think it is pretty common in stories of an erotic nature to present as if all parties are mind readers. And there is a bit of that in this one, mostly between a couple who have been married for years.

But I think that there is also a assumption beyond the story that a master or top just somehow knows what to do. And really what is involved is planning, forethought, and really a lot of work.

Gear, specialty clothing, and other accessories don’t just appear. Spacial planning, especially when juggling two submissives is key. In general, a submissive will see the outlines and will know, basically, what’s going on. A master will plan it all out. And will walk down a list of if/then to keep things flowing. But even a master can fool themselves. We are human and we make mistakes. And when that happens, even someone like me who likes improvisation, will be thrown for a loop.

That means we end up taking time. A submissive might then experience a extended scene where the master is not present. A game or thought experiment or deprivation. Something that gives us space to reconsider and plan.

In the story, Pel has a partner who understands his mindset and she helps him to work through the process of finding a suitable solution. Just by being there and suggesting something.

I’ve never punished a sub for a good idea. Even if that idea is we halt play for a time to refocus. And halting play when you are on tilt is smart. Especially, when considering edge play. Which is what the character, Sara, desires.

So, we see uncertainty and a master who has been on tilt and struggling to catch up for the last few installments. Because we are human, and these stories are about more than just sex or play.

Lowercase

I will make a canvas of your skin
In blacks and blues
In swirled greens and yellows
In words pressed deep into flesh

My marks will bind us
Deep as the soul
This possession of all that you are

Belies the truth
Your total possession of me
Looking up

Tears
Eyes pleading for one more flick of the lash
The key to your ownership
Words drip like heroin
“Thank you, Sir”

Waking dream 

She stood before me. Tall in her heel, standing fierce. The soft paleness of calves curve upward. Her form is strength and hardship. But soft, so soft. Flesh that takes the markings of our lovemaking, that marks the lines of her possession. The heady scent of her cunt mingles with her soft perfume. Smelling of delicacy and delight, recalling the taste of her sweetness. Eyes take in the slight abundance of belly, this she sees as flaw and I see as beautiful. Yielding, the sound of a flogger slapping lightly, further marking her as mine. Her breasts are pillows, showing my bite marks, bruising in blacks, blues and yellows. She says they hurt and remind her of my attention and intention throughout the day. Each mark, each bruise, each small pain, reminding her of my total possession.

She watches me drink her in, wicked grin on her face. This our ritual each time. Her grin bursts wider pulling deep within me. This the smile that makes me want to ravish her, to take her until there is nothing left but grunts and pain and pleasure. All humanity torn away. Give in to shear animalistic rutt.

Her eyes twinkle, like she knows what I’m thinking. Like she knows and deeply approves. Knowing in my gaze and less than tender mercies, finally at last, how truly beautiful she is.

Is this a poem?

You think Master means bastard
That orders mean abuse
That owned means prison
You couldn’t be more wrong
Master means lover, protector, elevator
Orders mean structure and support
Owned means fierce pride and a desire for wellbeing
relationships are built on communication
Built on trust
You confuse the trappings for the relationship
I am the pillar of certainty upon which my submissive can stake it all
do not waiver, do not bend
They know where I stand, always.
  They know what I feel because there is communication.
I never want to be less than clear.