Savouring jealousy

It's such a complex feeling and such a delicious one to unpack. Jealousy is something that I have been intrigued by from the moment that I realized that it is possible to incorporate it into play. It plays on human most basic fears of loneliness, abandonment and not being enough. And that offers tremendous possibilities for emotional suffering.

I am not a jealous type of person in general. I am usually rather secure in most of my relationships and I am not easily fearful about losing a partner. Also because I think that it is something out of my control either way so I rather try to focus on what they are giving me instead of thinking how I might lose it. There is one type of situation that does ignite jealousy in me very strongly, though. And that is when it is mixed with envy.

Because of my high level of ambition and a constant hunger for more, I tend to want a lot of things and there have always been people around me who had more of something that I wanted than me. Sometimes it's not so much about them having more, but simply about having something that I don’t have, not at all or not at that moment. Those are the people who I am envious of. I can even be envious of my Dominant for being dominant even though I don't have a drop of dominance in me. It's not about wanting it for myself as a person who I am right now but about not being able to have it. Ever. And at the same time finding it something admirable or desirable. 

And because my envy is so often about the absolutes, things that I can't change, mixed with jealousy it can be formidable to play with. Especially, because being jealous ignites my deepest anxieties. And what can cause one more pain than having their anxieties dragged out in the open and prodded?

I learned recently to savour my jealousy. It usually appears in relation to other partners of my partners when they are female and fundamentally different from me. Not just any different, but they need to be a kind of woman that I am uselessly attracted to because of her alluring femininity. That kind of woman that is very beautiful but in a cold and distant way, aware of her beauty and knowing how to use it as a powerful tool to get what she wants. In general, she usually gets what she wants in her life without much struggle. Often because of an aura of slight helplessness that surrounds her, which makes you feel like she needs you in some way, but at the same time, constantly keeping you at a distance, making you want to provide for her, making you feel like you might have something that she needs and if you give it to her, she might, for a moment, become yours. 

This is the type of woman that I am very envious of. Of course, the above image is a huge generalization and a big part of it is my own imagination about these women and not the reality. It doesn’t matter, though. What matters is how they make me feel.

They come in many different flavours but there is one thing that unites them, my reaction to them. It's my reaction that tells me that she, as well, belongs to their breed. It's my inability to turn my eyes from her, the moment she appeared in my sight. My strong desire to talk to her and make her laugh, to entertain her. I want her to be mine, even though I know that it's impossible and, also, I wouldn't know what to do with her once she is. Because I want to have her, but at the same time all I really want is for someone else to have me. 

And if this is the way she makes me feel, I can only imagine how my partner feels about her. How is it even possible that they still want to have anything to do with me if they can have her? She is so superior to me that there is no point of even trying to compare myself to her. 

But I do. I find a perverse pleasure in observing her (or them together) and finding all the ways in which she is better. All the ways in which I don't measure up. All the desirable ways in which they treat her and they don't treat me. It's very cruel to do it to myself, but it's my personal gift, self-inflicted suffering. 

When I think about it, I feel ashamed of doing it. I feel like I shouldn't feed on my jealousy like that. I shouldn't torture myself using those two people who are not even aware of what I am doing. It's a very twisted kind of voyeurism and mental masturbation. But it's so delightfully painful that it's hard to stop. 

I would like to believe that I am able to control it. That I am not going to make any permanent damage to my relationships because of that. That if I keep it to myself, nobody will get hurt. I don't know if it's true. What I do know is that I love observing myself around those women and can't really help it. I love how small and pathetic they make me feel. How their presence makes me retreat and accept that my partner will probably not want to touch me ever again. And understand it. I love how low and hopeless it makes me. How desperate and undeserving. How acutely aware of all the things that I will never be able to provide to them and she is. How resignation and acceptance of the inevitability of being rejected creeps up on me when I see them together. 

Of course, I know, rationally speaking, that it doesn't work like that. I know that people are different and they like each other for different reasons and there is no notion of someone being objectively better than me. I also know that I have many qualities that people might find attractive. That it's not so black and white. That if they say that they like and value me then I should trust they do. And usually, I do. Just not at that moment. Because at that moment I'm busy drowning myself in self-deprecation, humiliation and loneliness. 

At that moment, I know only one thing that I have that she doesn't that might be the reason why my partners haven’t abandoned me yet. I know that she will never go as low as I do for them. She will never lose her dignity for them, as I do so easily. They will never feel as justified in their cruelty towards her as they are in their cruelty towards me. They will never turn her into something that is as far from a human as I can be sometimes. She won't entertain them with her misery and pitifulness. 

I know that that is the reason why they keep me with them. So that they can be at their worst with me and at their best with her. They need to degrade me so that they can cherish her. And knowing that only makes me wish to be someone else even more. Someone beautiful and respected. Someone feared and admired. Someone valued and taken into account and not just used. 

I will never be that person, though, because, in reality, it's not who I want to be. I could be her only if I wasn't myself. But I want misery and suffering too much. I long to feel degraded. I long to feel rejected. I long to be hurt. And if my partner is not there to provide it to me, if they are busy with someone who actually is worthy of their attention, then I'm always there for myself. I’m always there to rub some salt into my wounds and then sit back and enjoy the pain, sipping slowly from the bitter-sweet cup that they passed on to me.

Lessons on shame, objectification and humiliation in rope from Soptik and Door

Recently, I've been a model for an amazing workshop by Soptik on objectification and humiliation in rope. He asked me to be his partner because, as he says, I'm a 'perfect object'. I guess that what he means by that is that I let people do anything to me without fighting back. And I enjoy it. It was very interesting to be able to show and share with people the states in which I love to be, but also in which I am at my most vulnerable. 

I think that teaching objectification and humiliation is a difficult undertaking. Much more difficult than teaching techniques how to tie. It's all about playing the emotions of your model, and having a command of human emotions is so much more complicated than having a command of rope.

It was the first time that I've given a workshop like that and since it was emotionally very intense, it was quite hard for me to formulate my thoughts on the topics that we’ve taught real-time. I did my best, but still many interesting thoughts emerged in my head only when processing it later. So many that I will probably spend more than one writing on them. But here is a start. 

On objectification 

Objectification is the act of treating a person as an object or a thing. - Wikipedia

In theory, it's the most severe form of lowering someone's status. In practice though, it can be much easier to take than humiliation or degradation. That is because it can put you in this state of 'not being' in which you can detach from your feelings and experiences. When someone objectifies you, you can truly become an object in your mind as well and your ego doesn't get in the way anymore. You go to this quiet place where you just exist, and let things happen to you but without affecting you. 

This was also the experience of most of the models, which I find truly fascinating. Despite being so different we basically all went to the same place in our heads. 

Suffering as an object is suffering alone

The first exercise that we performed was tying the models into household objects. I was turned into a chair and left like that while the rest of the participants started tying, having someone occasionally sitting on me.

After a while, the position got really challenging and I began truly suffering. The experience though was very different from the typical suffering in semenawa ties. The traditional suffering in kinbaku is done for the rigger while he is there, witnessing you in it. And it makes things very different and in some ways easier (but in others not).

When your rigger is with you, you're staying more on the edge, I think. You are more aware of what is happening to you and you hope that he will put you out of your misery soon. He is seeing you and therefore you also see yourself through his eyes and are more aware of your suffering. At the same time, his presence makes it easier to go through the hardship because you know that you are doing it for him and you are being appreciated. 

Here, I was all alone with my suffering. It was a byproduct and not the aim. There was nobody who cared about what was happening to me (at least that is how I felt like, in reality, my partner was having me in his sight most of the time). In a way, my suffering was pointless. That made it harder to go through on one hand as I didn't have the energy of rigger's appreciation to lift me up. On the other hand, being left alone with it made it easier to accept and easier to surrender. There was no hope for me. I was a mere object and all that was left for me was to accept my faith. 

There are not many things that are more hurtful than not being seen

There are many ways to objectify someone, which was exactly what Soptik was trying to teach. We did exercises on turning people into actual usable objects, on sexual objectification and on turning models into living sculptures and objects of admiration. Those different states were also eliciting different reactions in different models. Some caused arousal, some sadness, some going quiet and some desperation.

In general, I love to be objectified. I love to be used for someone’s pleasure, in any capacity they see fit. It gives me a lot of satisfaction and at the same time frees me from worrying whether my actions are according to the other person's wishes. I have no initiative of my own, therefore no way of making mistakes. But there is one experience in the realm of objectification that can leave me truly shattered. And that is being looked at but not seen. Especially, when it's done by someone by whom I desperately want to be seen. 

In one of the exercises, Soptik was teaching the riggers how to look at your model as a mere object. We were standing in one place and the riggers were walking around us and observing each detail of our body like we were at an auction and they were about to buy us. This kind of look makes you embarrassed at first. The sheer fact that someone dares to look at you that way, and that you allow them to do that, makes you question your worth. As long as they don’t look into your face though, it is not painful. It makes you uncomfortable and slightly anxious, but not hurt. Everything changes when they look straight into your eyes, but don’t see you. 

The moment when they turn their look at your face, you become hopeful. You start wishing that they will finally look into your eyes and see the person that you are. That they will stop assessing you like a piece of meat and really look at you, your inside and not your outside. You can't help but expect and anticipate it in a glimpse of a second and when you meet their cold stare, your heart is shattered. 

It hurts so much to be denied something as fundamental as being looked into the eyes and be seen. Somehow, at that moment it is not possible to switch off the feeling mode and become only a body. Being so close, and yet so far away, from meeting someone’s sight makes you extremely aware of that little person inside you yearning to be elevated back to the status of a human being. And when it is not happening, it hurts. A lot.  

As a sucker for emotional pain, I can’t say how much I appreciate the ability of someone to treat me like that. I can imagine that it is not easy to look at someone this way, but the amount of suffering that such a simple skill can generate is truly remarkable, so it's worth practising. 

There is no shame in being an object

In one of the exercises, the task was to sexually objectify your model. The riggers had to tie us in a position that makes us as sexually available as possible, at the same time giving us the feeling of being objectified. I was basically turned into a sex doll with my arms in a TK, thighs tied together behind my back, legs spread as wide as possible and a fabric over my head on which Soptik drew a new face for me. He also cut a hole in the fabric for my mouth and put a ring gag in it so that it stayed open. Finally, he tied my breasts, so that they became prominent and swollen. Real sex doll. 

The interesting thing was that even though I was so exposed and in a way humiliated (at least to me being so explicitly sexual and ready for use is usually humiliating), I didn't feel that way. That is because I didn't feel like a person, I felt like a doll. And a doll is not ashamed of being looked at or used. That is what it is for. 

At the end of the exercise, everyone was untied and sharing their experiences and I was still sitting there with my wide-open mouth and a doll face on which Soptik drew tears. Those tears truly reflected how I felt, like an abandoned doll, sad that nobody is paying attention to it. But even though I was exposed in front of everyone and unable to speak, I didn't feel ashamed. 

Usually, I feel a lot of shame when being publicly exposed, especially with my breasts tied like that. But now it wasn't me who was in that position. By losing my face to a piece of fabric, I also lost my shame and dignity. It was my body they could see, but not me. There is no point in feeling shame when nobody expects you to act with decency when you have no agency. 

Shame can only be born out of situations that you have some influence over, when you feel personally responsible for it and when your dignity is at stake. You are doing something indecent, but at least you are ashamed of it. It saves your face in a way. Here, I didn't have a face to save.

On shame and humiliation 

Humiliation is the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or reduced to lowliness or submission. It is an emotion felt by a person whose social status, either by force or willingly, has just decreased. - Wikipedia

Shame is an unpleasant self-conscious emotion typically associated with a negative evaluation of the self, withdrawal motivations, and feelings of distress, exposure, mistrust, powerlessness, and worthlessness. - Wikipedia

There is a thin line between shame and humiliation. What for some people is only shameful, for others might already be humiliating or even degrading. What shame and humiliation have in common is that they require an act from a position of someone being a person, in contrast to being an object. They also might be much more mentally impactful in the long term than objectification. 

I think that it's because while it's easy to contain the experience of being objectified within the scene and detach from it afterwards because of it being so far from how you usually feel about yourself, it's much more difficult to detach from what you've experienced in a humiliation scene. The reason for that is that humiliation play uses the image that you have of yourself as a person against you. Therefore, it's something that is much more personal and that you need to be much more cautious about. 

Humiliation play needs good negotiations, aftercare and sometimes even ‘precare’

We've spent a long time at the beginning of the second day of the workshop, discussing all kinds of precautions that you need to take before you get into a scene involving shaming, and even more so humiliation. As a top, you need to get a good understanding of where the feeling of self-worth of the bottom comes from and which parts of it can and can't be toyed with. If you as a bottom have any triggers or deep anxieties that you know shouldn't be messed with, this is the time to talk about it. 

You also need to make sure that you will have time and space for good aftercare and that it's clear for both of you what would such aftercare entail. While for some scenes it's ok to just hug and part your ways, here it's really important to make sure that you both leave the scene the way you started it, not feeling bad about yourself (both in case of tops as well as bottoms).

Finally, I mentioned before that there are certain things that are better not toyed with and sensitive topics are better left out of this kind play. But… Some people (like me) like to be kicked exactly in places where it hurts the most. And that's ok as long as both you and your partner are aware of the risks that you are taking. In such case it might also be a good idea to do some ‘precare’, to ensure the other person beforehand that their insecurities that are going to be dissected soon have no grounding in reality and to make ground for the aftercare that will come later. As a top, say some good things that you can come back to after the scene. This is what we did with Soptik for example, when we played with my intelligence (or lack thereof) which is one of the things that I can be insecure about and it worked great in restoring my feeling of self-worth after the scene.

Little things make all the difference

Bringing humiliation or shame (or objectification for that matter) into your tying is about small gestures. It's not about what you do, but how you do it. 

We started and ended the day with ties that were very similar in terms of the position of my body (partial suspension exposing my crotch), but which gave me very different experiences, because of small details. 

The first one was in a way more 'light'. I was tied with one leg up and open and one on the floor with a lot of possibilities for movement. It gave me a constant feeling that I could almost hide the parts of my body (crotch) that I didn't want to be exposed. I was on the verge of feeling decent, getting in and out of it, depending on whether I thought that my foot can hide my crotch or not. Soptik kept the mood of the scene playful. He toyed with my embarrassment. I felt like he put me in this shameful position to entertain him, but also so that I have fun myself, and not to put me down. I didn't feel humiliated at all, but I did feel embarrassed and ashamed about what people could see. Still, I felt ashamed about the position that I am in, but not of myself.

The mood of the second scene was very different, even though the tie itself was similar. From the start Soptik was constantly putting my head down, not letting me look at him. Apparently, putting someone’s head lower than their heart puts them almost automatically in a state of submission. It was the case for me. I immediately felt subdued to him and because of that less prone to try and change the position, even if it was leaving me exposed. At the same time, I felt like the fact that I wasn’t fighting him was depriving me of even more dignity. 

Also, the way he was interacting with me was different, he wasn’t playful anymore. He was intentionally showing me that I am less of a human than he is. That he can do to me what he wants, ridicule me in front of all the workshop participants and there is nothing I can do about it. The tie was also more and more constricting my movements, not only leaving me feeling humiliated, but also helpless. Like there is no escape for me from that state. 

I think that making someone feel helpless really helps with humiliation. Not necessarily physically helpless, but more so mentally. Making them feel less of themselves because they are not preventing what is happening to them, but at the same time overpowering them so much that they won’t. 

And the switch in the intention in order to do that is really not that big. It is in small details of how you treat the other person and not necessarily in tying different things. 

You can't humiliate an object 

The thing about humiliation is that it undermines one’s sense of worth. The concept of self-worth is only there if the person you play with feels like a person. If they went into the mental space of being an object, they won’t feel humiliated anymore.

It was very tangible for me when we did an exercise with tying face rope in a deforming way. Having your face deformed, being made ugly, is a very humiliating experience for most people. However, there is a very subtle difference between deforming one’s face, which is humiliating and taking away one’s face, which is more objectifying. 

For example, if you tie a lot of rope around somebody’s head, covering it entirely, you make them lose their face completely and become more like a puppet. Especially if you tie their eyes as well, it is very easy for them to go into an ‘object’ headspace. On the other hand, if you tie the rope in such a way that the attributes of the face, eyes, nose, mouth, are still present but distorted, it gives much more humiliating experience. They still have a face, but it is made ugly. What intensifies the feeling is being made aware of it over and over again, for example by being presented with one’s reflection or being touched where the rope is so that they can feel how distorted they are. 

So if you want to stay in the realm of humiliation, you need to stay focused on your partner and observe whether they are not hiding in ‘safe space’ of being an object. You have to keep reminding them that they are a human, but a lesser one.

It is all happening in the head of the model

Humiliation, shame, embarrassment are all highly personal and context-dependent feelings. To be able to control them, you need to be able to get into the head of the model. To observe him/her and learn what makes them tick. 

I also think that, contrary to objectification, tools for inducing which are quite objective, humiliation and shame are very subjective and dependent on the 'willingness' of the model to go with their mind where the rigger is suggesting them to go. Possibly there are certain things that are objectively humiliating. Usually, though, they are rather on the intense side which brings them more into the degradation realm, the next stage after humiliation. 

In general, a lot of what is happening during a shame or humiliation scene depends on a story that the model is telling herself/himself in their head. The actions of the rigger are only a catalyst for it. Therefore, the more the rigger knows the model, the better, as they can approximate more accurately what is happening in their heads. 

At the same time, the model also has quite a lot of power over whether they want to go the route of humiliation or shame or not. Do they believe that what is currently done to them is shameful or humiliating? Or can they talk themselves out of it? The more context of the model's story the rigger knows, the easier it is to make them believe. 

The rigger is also part of the context. For example, while I might not be ashamed of getting aroused when playing with my sexual partner (I basically always am, though), getting aroused during a scene with a stranger might be very shameful. So even observing the model playing with others might not provide you with the necessary information. 

Humiliation is one of those things where it's really about an intimate interaction between the two people and getting to know each other's darkest secrets. It might take time to build tools to execute it, but if it's your thing, it's definitely worth the effort.

I guess that from the length of this writing (and it is still not all) you can figure out how dear the topic of humiliation and objectification is to my heart and how amazing it was to be able to show it to other people together with Soptik (who definitely is an artist in the realm of inducing it on people). It is so personal that it was hard to define for myself what could be interesting to contribute as a model in such a workshop. There is still much more to tell on the subject, but I hope that we were able to show at least part of what it means to us and that I conveyed some of it here.

You like your cruel games

Sometimes I wonder if his cruelty has any borders. And what's wrong with me for being drawn exactly to that cruelty? He is capable of doing things to me that are beyond my imagination. Showing me that I will go further than I ever thought is physically or mentally possible. And then even further than that. I will stretch my limits so thinly that single strings begin to snap, just to catch a glimpse of entertainment in his eyes. Just to amuse him for a little while.

But it's not only about that. It's also about seeing how far I can go. He is enabling me to explore uncharted territories that I would never have been able to reach without him. He is bringing me to places in my head that are far beyond my reach. It's exciting and terrifying at the same time. Exciting, because I love new experiences and crossing what I thought are my limits. Terrifying, because what if I am not as strong as I thought I am? What if at some point I snap?

Prologue

Recently, he began to expand our play beyond the short intense moments when we see each other. First, by putting a chastity belt on me, he made me physically unable to orgasm for 40 days that were in between our planned encounters. And it worked. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to come.

In the beginning, it was quite enjoyable. It made the presence of his will in my life constant, even though he wasn't there. It turned every sexual experience with my other partners into a reason for me to feel used and miserable (with their knowledge and agreement to proceed regardless of my handicap). It expanded his control over my life far beyond where it was before, and at the same time made me accept it because I knew that it's a sacrifice that I needed to make in order to get somewhere where I've never been before. In the end, though, I was feeling quite desperate.

I am an extremely sensual person. The sensation of having a penis filling up my pussy would basically always make me come multiple times during intercourse. Sex is a very important part of my life and as it turns out, orgasms are an inherent part of sex for me. Being such an avid receiver of pleasure was a part of my identity. And now he took it away. 

It made me feel frustrated and desperate. It made me feel like I am starting to lose myself. And I didn't even know for what. Well… Actually, I knew. I was doing it for him. I was doing it because it's what he decided that I should go through. But I wasn't sure if I really could take it. Especially without his presence in my day to day life. I didn't know if I can go through it all alone, and at the same time not crack entirely under the weight of the experience. 

I did survive those 40 days, but it was much more difficult than I anticipated. I waited desperately to see him again, even though I wasn't sure what's going to happen and if he is going to release me from my ordeal.

He did, but not in the way that I expected. As always, he didn't give me what I wanted and at the same time, he did. He made me realize that what I think I want, is not what I really want, and what I really want is to be made utterly desperate and mindfucked beyond imagination, at the same time not being able to handle it and enjoying it tremendously.

The main act

The moment that I waited for so long, finally came. I saw him again. I was both excited and terrified about it. As I always am when I am about to see him. I knew that he is going to use my neediness against me. I just didn't know, how. And I wasn't sure what I am more afraid of, him allowing me to orgasm or not?

As it turned out, it didn't matter because both can be a means of torture.

One morning, he finally decided that he might let me come from having him inside me, which was a great privilege for me. He can easily switch off my ability to feel bodily sensations or my consciousness, so any time he doesn't do it really feels like a blessing. He ordered me to ride him, which is my least favourite sex position (too much feeling like I am in control), but it didn't matter at that moment. He taught me not to expect too much and cherish even slight scraps of his grace. 

“I could feel him and I might be allowed to come feeling him,”  that thought offered more possibilities for happiness than I could have ever imagined. Of course, he didn't grant me that joy easily.

He made me beg for an orgasm through a gag, torturing me by requiring me to be inventive in my pleading and at the same time increasing the intensity of my sensual experiences, so that all I could think about was how good it feels to have him inside me and how horny I am right now. Somehow I did manage to come up with more and more humiliating ways to beg for an orgasm, which I didn't even think he understood exactly because I was splattering through the gag, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that I kept humiliating myself by mumbling through the gag and drooling all over my breasts like a total idiot.

The thing with me is that I love humiliation, but I also have quite a big ego. I enjoy debasing myself, but only after I'm being cornered into it. And no matter how many times I do it, it never gets easier. Each time I have to call myself names, I am going through an inner struggle, I am battling my pride. I will do it and it will make me wet, but only if I really have no other choice. Only if the price of disobedience is too high to pay. And still, with each uttered sentence, the fight starts all over again.  

Finally, after a while of entertaining himself with my debasement, he said that I am allowed to come. At first, he set a time limit of 5 seconds after his permission, which I obviously couldn't fulfil and failing at which was only making me more and more aroused, as after each 'failure' he would put the chastity belt on and increase the intensity, and the ball of pulsating pleasure growing bigger and bigger inside of me. 

I realised that when I am going to ask him again, I really needed to feel like I am almost there. He hated me playing it safe. I had to get really close, risking going crazy with frustration if he says ‘no’. But he didn't. Finally, I managed to orgasm within the time limit.

But he didn't let me savour this long-awaited orgasm much. 

The moment he started giving me orgasms, he didn't stop. He made me come over and over again, each time increasing the intensity and each time making me dread it more and more. What was a pleasure that I longed for so much, now became my torture. 

The thing with my hypnotically induced orgasms is that he made them extremely intense. He worked on me a couple of times, describing in detail how they would fill my entire body with waves of pleasure and how with each orgasm they would intensify. And they did. As it turns out, having intense waves of pleasure shaking your body over and over again is exhausting to the point of being unbearable. Especially when you keep on bouncing on somebody's cock.

I was sweaty and my pussy was extremely wet. My thighs were hurting from jumping on him that I wasn't allowed to stop and my mouth was hurting from the gag. I was trembling and I felt streams of sweat and drool running down my body.

"You can always beg me to stop giving you orgasms. But remember that it might be for a long time," he said and escalated the intensity even further.  

Of course! How could I not have thought about it? How come I always take whatever is being thrown at me without even considering the possibility of asking him to stop until he mentions it?

So I started to beg him to stop, interchangeably with begging for more orgasms, when I felt like coming without permission was becoming too much of a risk. He was amused by my confusion and each time I begged him to stop, he would ask if I am sure about it, since it might be for really long. 

And I wasn't sure. I didn't want to be deprived of pleasure again for such a long time. But I also felt like I can't stand any more orgasms right now.  

At some point, I broke. I became sure that at this moment I really can’t take any more. Even if it meant no orgasms for long. I was not able to pay the price. I also realized that I won’t win. He wanted to drive me to say it. He wanted to make me beg him for the exact thing that I dreaded so much. And he did. I was just a puppet, dancing on the strings held by him for the sake of his amusement. 

Epilogue

Oh, how I sometimes fear the power that he has over me… How he can direct me to play out any scenario that he has in his twisted mind. How I will follow obediently and knowingly into the trap that he set for me when he leaves me no other choice but to follow through. The only thing that could spare me being his mercy which rarely shows it’s head. 

He gave me what I dreamed of and then made me choke with it. And now, he made me dream of it again. 

After it was all finished, I took a shower to clean myself up from the mess that I’ve become and then kneeled in front of him in my usual position with hands behind my back.

“So how many times did you come?” he asked, looking at me intently.

“I don’t know Sir, ten maybe,” I answered embarrassed.

“Ten, you say. And how many times did you say ‘thank you’?”

My heart stopped at this question. I didn’t say ‘thank you’ even once. I was so tormented from the very beginning, that it didn’t even cross my mind.

“I didn’t say it at all Sir. I am sorry,” I said frozen from fear.

“Oh, you will be,” he said with his cold and cruel voice, ”So for ten orgasms without saying ‘thank you’ I would say that ten more months without an orgasm sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

My eyes grew huge from terror. “He can’t be serious right now,” a desperate hopeless thought crossed my mind.

But knowing him so far, I couldn't exclude the possibility that he was.

He is a mirror that shows me all the parts of me that I wish I didn’t see. He makes me trip over my vices over and over again. And no matter how much I don’t want to admit it with myself, I love his cruelty. It makes me wet to just think that he truly is capable of casually taking away my orgasms for such a long time. How he can execute his power over me in cold blood, makes me melt. He left me cornered by my own mind, wishing for having my freedom back and at the same time knowing that nothing tastes as good as being a slave to his whims.

Provided to YouTube by TuneCore Mean · Nicole Dollanganger Natural Born Losers ℗ 2015 Eerie Organization Released on: 2015-10-09 Auto-generated by YouTube.

I have a thing for rejection

The moments when he points my head away from him, denying me his sight, when he reaches out to touch my face but in the last moment he slaps me instead. The moments when he pushes my body away with his foot like it's something disgusting that doesn't deserve to be touched with hands...

... are the moments that I am waiting for.

I so long to be rejected... In fact, almost everything I do in play is asking “Please, push me away.” I make myself so vulnerable, so eager, so subjugated, so needy that it is almost inevitable that I will be rejected. Who would want a despicable half-human like that? Who would give such a creature what it wants, when it clearly has no power to claim it? Why should one be kind to it, when one can be mean with no repercussions? I try to make it as easy as possible for others to stop seeing me as a human, in hope that it will make their threshold for cruelty lower.

I have just written, “Why should I give it what it wants?” meaning, "Why should I give it a kind touch?" while a minute earlier I mentioned that what I actually want is rejection. Confusing, huh? Am I playing my dominants? Am I trying to trick them into thinking that I want kindness, while what I really want is to be rejected? Am I topping from the bottom? Am I?!

On some level I do, I think. But it is not deliberate and not fully conscious. In the moment of play, I experience a personality split of sorts. There is a soft part of me that really only wants to be touched gently and simply loved. This needy part is not staged. I really feel that way at the moment it takes over.

There is another part of me, though. This one lets the vulnerable one appear on the surface during play while it's hiding beneath. This is the part of me that longs for rejection. This is me that feeds on the emotional pain of the needy one. This is the cruel me. And in order for the cruel one to be satisfied, the needy one needs to be truly hurt. And it is truly hurt when it’s being rejected.

Because kindness and a soft touch really are all that the needy one wants. It wants the pain to be over, it wants to feel loved. There is no deceit in the needy one. It is like a child. Any emotion that it feels is immediately expressed. It is so vulnerable that the only thing that it can do is to express its needs and hope that the person that it expresses it towards will meet them.

Of course, this is not what the cruel one hopes for. And it is the cruel one who screens the partners that the needy one is going to interact with. She chooses for the ones that she hopes are as cruel as she is. She also interacts with them before the scene, hinting at all the terrible things that she would like to be done to her. And then she hides in the corner to watch.

Recently, I’ve seen someone at a party engaging in a humiliating act, and he was smiling and visibly enjoying it. I don’t think that I ever look like that when I am being humiliated. And it is because the conscious side of me that is experiencing it, is not taking any pleasure in it happening. It will do what you tell it to because it needs you. And it loves you. You are its only hope for receiving what it needs, for feeling loved and nourished. So it will go as low as it gets to get it. Because there is no other way. Because it is too weak to get it by itself. It needs it to be granted to her.

So when you reject me and humiliate me, it is not that I pretend that I don’t want it, while I secretly do. The part that is being rejected really doesn’t want it. It truly is suffering and its heart is truly being broken. There is no pleasure experienced by it.

Who is taking pleasure is the cruel one and it is a kind of ex-post pleasure. During the scene she is just watching and only after that she devours all the pain and suffering that the needy one experienced, tasting and appreciating the craft of the dom who carried out the act.

This is why I think that it takes real cruelty to hurt me. At least to hurt me to the level that I want to be hurt. Because I won’t show you that I am enjoying it at any moment. Because I won’t be enjoying it. Because during the scene my entire body will scream, “Please stop and just hold me. Please, love me.”

But what you need to do is to ignore it and go on. And in order to do that you need to enjoy breaking this little heart. You need to enjoy using my vulnerability against me. You need to want to truly hurt. And you should.

Because trust me, the cruel one will thank you hundredfold for it.

And the needy one will heal. It always does.

My love-hate relationship with deep-throating

There are not many things that leave me feeling as used and violated as being throat-fucked. And I both love it and hate it at the same time.

I love it because it's as objectifying as sex can get. The man using your mouth for his own pleasure, thrusting his penis deep into your throat, disregarding your pain and discomfort, disregarding your inability to breathe, the choking and the spit covering your face. Oh no, at this moment he definitely doesn't care if you're pretty. At this moment you're just a hole. At this moment it's not about your skills, it's not about you giving him pleasure, it's about him giving himself pleasure, using your mouth. And the less human reflexes you have, the better.

I love it because it hurts in the most uncomfortable of ways. There is nothing pleasurable about having your throat stuffed with someone's dick, which is hitting the back of it, filling up your mouth and blocking your access to the air altogether. There is nothing enjoyable in the way it hurts when he slums his penis into your mouth, violating delicate tissue that it’s covered with. Face-fucking is definitely not what my mouth was made for. When he pushes my head onto his cock so hard that my gums start to hurt from it, the last thing I would call it is feeling good.

I love it because it makes me feel so degraded, so low. What kind of girl would let someone do this to them? And enjoy it? Thinking about it makes me feel so ashamed that I can't even look into his eyes when he fucks me. I can't bear him seeing me at this moment. I want to stay invisible, to not take part in this spectacle of my debasement.

I love it when days after my throat still hurts, and with every swallow, I'm reminded of the things that he did to me.

Finally, I love how subjugated to him it makes me feel. How it reminds me that I will let him do anything to me for as much as a scrap of his attention, and how much I belong to him. But even more importantly, it is proof of him accepting my gift. And it makes me the happiest person on Earth to see it being put to use. To see him dispose of my body as of his rightful property, which it is.

Did I also mention that I hate it? I do. I hate everything about it.