Emotional "Kinks"

I know that I'm still ridiculously behind on replying comments...I haven't forgotten!

I was thinking about what turns me on, what gets me off, what makes me melt and creates that sensation of absolute, "yes, whatever you want whenever you want it" with no inhibitions or reservations.

What really floats my boat.

The thing is...They're my emotional kinks. And to call them kinks seems so trivial, so minimizing, because a kink is ultimately more about what you like than who you are...

Security. Safety. Fear. Loyalty. Trust--real true, deep trust. Baring my truth with no reservations and being accepted--being mentally and emotionally naked, which also ties in with humiliation I guess.

At the core of my emotional "kinks" lies having a deep and unquestioning sense of safety and security. Everything else spiderwebs out from that.

He's been trying. Really fucking hard. And honestly, I haven't done great at jumping off the bitch train. But I had the above realizations as he was wrapped around me before heading out the door this morning. Because I felt that sense of safe and secure rolling off of him into me for the first time in a very long time. And I just wanted to crawl into it and curl up, and stay there, and please it, and exist only there. Always.

PSA

Dominate is a verb. A verb is an action. You dominate a submissive. You are not a dominate.

Dominant is an adjective. You are a dominant. You do not dominant a submissive.

Get it fucking straight. It's not that goddamned complicated.

You're welcome.

Sincerely, 

Literate Subs Of The World

...

Lonely...

I know that I have comments to respond to. I have not forgotten you, I appreciate you, and I will reply.

Alpha has tasked me with finding a toy/mistress/someone else...

And how this works when one's limits are not their own, we are discovering...

Yea...That really is all I'm gonna say about that one at the moment. Just needed to put it in print I guess.

I'm lonely. I've spent a good deal of my life alone, but this lonely is new. The truth is, at home, I was never actually alone. I cannot put words to those mountains and the magic and spirit which resides within them at the moment...

But I am lonely. Often I go into our room and sit on my knees in front of him...Yea, I'm looking for attention, I no longer care to dissect how my motivation for things is less than ideal--he spends that time on his phone or the computer anyways.
He is working primarily in a different state, only coming home a few nights a week, and I try not to leave the house. His primary focuses are work, sex, and other women--preferably ones with long term possibilities who want and enjoy sex as much as he does.

Before anyone who doesn't know me better gets going, making friends is not a solution--I am absolutely not in the least little bit interested in bringing anyone new into my life at all under any circumstances. I don't want friends, and I didn't really have them back at home.
I don't like people and they don't much like me either. The truth is, I really am a mouthy bitch with a crappy attitude, and I simply do not care to moderate my responses in an attempt to make myself halfway palatable any more.

Lonely kind of sucks. And sometimes life occurrences/circumstances, exacerbate the sense of loneliness.

So why whine if I have no desire or intention of trying to find people who might dissipate the loneliness? Maybe because the knowledge itself of people knowing how I feel eases the lonely just a little. Maybe because I actually think that I'm not whining, just expressing how I feel at the moment. Maybe because, who the fuck knows?

We had an argument the day before yesterday. He needed to go out of state for work and decided to spend the night so that he could get more done. I said a storm was coming and I wished he wouldn't because I wouldn't see him before Monday or Tuesday. He assured me that he would be able to make it home.
Today, I showered, shaved, moisturized, painted my nails, and contemplated his suggestion of a new hair color which happens to match that of a girl he has a thing for.
Not surprisingly, given the weather forecast, the road was closed tonight. He offered to come home via an alternate route, but this isn't our first time on the merry-go-round--getting home at one am means he's home for a day, asleep, then heads back out the next day. We agreed that he might as well just stay where he was.

It's lonely here...

Sometimes I wish that he'd just scoop me up for coffee, or to go sit on a rock, or go for a drive and stare at the sunset...Then I realize that I wouldn't be happy with that anyways because I'm never happy with anything and he'd just spend that time on his phone regardless...

I have always been conscious of feeling critical of him in these pages. Beyond that it's against my fiber to publicly critique my owner, I have always disliked women who wander around bitching about the men they married.
The truth as we are now, is that I'm a shitty sub with a drinking problem, he's far less interested in me than he himself wants to believe or admit, not winning any dominant awards; and we each seem to feel like we put out more effort than the other.

It's lonely here...

Focus in The Rabbit Hole

I have 44 drafts right now. Forty-fucking-four...

I am lacking focus. We are both lacking in focus lately...

A great deal of submission is about surrender, letting go...And a great deal of it is focus.

Alpha isn't much one for ropes and chains, not often anyways. Mental bondage is much more his thing.
If one is tied, then one must obey and stay. If one is told to hold position...It is the mental binding which keeps them in place--one makes the choice to make oneself remain no matter what, because that is what they have been told to do. And their instilled inner compulsion requires that they obey the command. To him, that exercise in control is far more rewarding.

It takes a lot of focus, on both sides, for a word to hold as tightly as any binding. I have found the struggle against physical bonds to be deliciously freeing--the option of movement, even if that movement is just a futile attempt...It's easier.

The stillness of being on one's knees...Focused surrender. The peace of surrender is slightly more difficult to achieve when focus is lacking.

Focus on him
focus on the moment
focus on stillness
focus on the space.

Focus on letting go
focus on surrender.

Letting go is about releasing everything outside in that moment--the only thing left is what he chooses to allow, letting go of the rope that maintains one's hold on everything outside of the rabbit hole. Surrender is yielding to him, letting him all the way in, falling down the rabbit hole without resistance...

I'm having a hell of a hard time letting go these days, and I reach a certain point of surrender and balk...I begin attempting to halt my descent down the rabbit hole by clawing at the walls as I fall...Trying to break the descent with bleeding fingers because I'm afraid of crashing to pieces at the bottom perhaps?

I need to understand why I am afraid to let go of the rope, to surrender as I once did...Because my commitment to doing so has been tested repeatedly lately in ways I had never really understood it could be, and has not failed. Yet, there's been this inner....

There has been a lot of focus on serving lately, and random moments of extreme D/s...Dunno really, moments of extremes and very little consistent in-betweens?

I am afraid to fall down the rabbit hole, but I tumbled over the edge long ago. There is no scrambling back up to the top to end the descent. Perhaps one simply falls forever, perhaps there are strange and wonderful things to explore at the bottom, perhaps one eventually hits rocks and breaks into a thousand pieces.

I don't know...

It most certainly does.Quite a bit extra, in fact...

Gave Up on Words...

My words don't seem to really be working for me these days....

Sewage Drenched Soul

A long time ago, he agreed not to read through my drafts folder. It was important to me, and I appreciated that. Being able to have unformed thoughts of my own, let them sit and refine them, or just forget them...He forgot that agreement, and made a new one--he now reads through my drafts on a regular basis. I think.
I learned this when he said something about one of them. It wasn't unkind, or critical, light teasing really...And kaput. I haven't made it past the beginning of a draft since. Honestly, I'm really not sure what happened with me there...

It is not a nice feeling when the words to give that voice form will not come. Clearly, I've been there a lot over the course of the last two years.

The truth? The truth is, I'm scared. No, that's the relative truth. The absolute truth is that I'm fucking terrified because I have never seen or experienced Alpha like this before. And I've been hanging in there for a while, but I feel like I'm in quicksand, and all I have left sticking out at this point is my fingertips.

The truth? The truth is, I am no longer clean. Before ttwd, I spent years trying to scrub my own skin off just to get that feeling of cleanliness within my being. Alpha and ttwd accomplished it for me.
That feeling, that particular sensation of being, is gone.
I look at the skin on my arms and contemplate the edge of the knife much as I once did, I just know Alpha will be terribly disappointed and beat my ass, so I don't do anything to feed the desire to draw my own blood. I stand under the shower head, water beyond the edge of comfort, before the edge of burn, trying to scrub my soul clean from the outside in. Even though I am well aware from experience, that it is not going to do a damn thing.

There can be a purity in the darkness. Or it can be...Just the sewage of a broken soul. I miss the purity in our darkness, and I am so fucking over drowning in the sewage of her twisted soul. And I'm fucking lost. For a while, after I screwed everything up, when it was too late, I tried to maintain a light within the darkness. But I feel like it ate me, All of the unclean things from past, present, and future, fucking her, collided in my soul one day. It was an innocuous moment, one I did not even notice until I felt that old familiar feeling of a filthy soul, and realized that I was no longer what I had tried so hard to be.

Clean.

He doesn't know it, and probably wouldn't believe it, but that is one of the gifts Omega gives us when we feel him--that purity in the darkness, which we once so strongly possessed. And the sad thing is, that kind of filthy that she tried so hard to imprint on us, is like an STD--it will fuck you up, and if you're lucky, a round of antibiotics will make it go away, if not, you got lifelong, life threatening shit that you can pass along to anyone you are with in the future. It can be with you forever. I'll drain my veins and set my fucking soul on fire before I let that stay with us forever, before I'll spread it to another.

There was a time it meant more to me than anything, that feeling of cleanliness. And even now...Fuck, for so long, it's all I ever wanted, and I had it...And I let in the creature that tainted it.

I'm not a great person. Yea, I like to think that I'm a pretty good person, but I'm not that good...If she was on the side of the road dying, I would keep on driving by. I should be saying that out of anger, all worked up and pissed off--that would make such a statement okay. Because that's the kind of thing people say about each other after they break up, but if it was put to the test, they'd stop anyways. But I'm not. And I would not.
Thing is, I'm not really that good. I do genuinely mean it, with or without active feelings of angst towards her.
For a total stranger? Sure, I'd stop the car, throw on a pair of gloves, and do my best to save their fucking life. Because life is precious, and no one ever wants to look back and say that they allowed another soul to slip away simply becuase they could not be bothered to try.
For her? No. Her life, her sewage drenched soul, her vampire heart...Just. No. Never In any way, shape, or form. No matter what. As terrible as it sounds, I would feel no remorse. And I'm okay with what that says about me as a human being. I know it's not pretty.

Clean...Some people grow up wanting to be rich, or successful, or happy, or I don'tfuckingknowwhat when they finally grow the fuck up, But me? I just wanted to be clean. That's it. My life's goal was to wash the filth off my soul. Scrub the dirt out of my fucking being...The sick shit older men left me with, everything that stained me. And we accomplished it. And it was fucking beautiful. And I fucking miss it.
She sullied us and our connection in a way that I cannot put into words. But us , ttwd, I think that perhaps this time it will not scrub away the stains. And it was the only thing I found that ever could.