The Mini-Devil Abides

The mini-devil rides!  The mini-brat abides!  This one is a special shout-out to Sir Tony and Klaudia.  I took this picture wearing my spiffy new title, "Trouble."   And, since Sir RB once said to me, "I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you on the patio..."  I suppose it's no surprise.  I must be giving the vibe.  I suppose I make people think of trouble when they see me riding and abiding.  I suppose the red horns are a good clue...

Thank you Sir Tony, and also to you Klaudia, for how you have taken me under your wings.  The devil has wings!  And so does his brat!  And they are comfortable places to be.  This mini-devil is very, very grateful.  You both know that I hearty-heart-heart you.  Thank you for this time you give to me.  I am blessed to be mentored by such a fine, fine lady as Genny, to have the shoulder of my excellent friend Sir RB, and to have the solid protection and guidance of Sir Tony and his perfectly elegant girl Klaudia all on my side as I journey ever closer to my submission.  The Journey to Domination and submission sim is the best thing that ever happened to me!  Submissives, if you see this...  I beg you, get a mentor you love.  It changes everything.

Vulnerable Days, Strong Days

Today is father's day, and it is the first father's day that I experience without a father.  (I can see where this week's anxieties have come from, now that I think about it.)  My father was kind, quiet, strong,  self-centred (in the way that is zen and healthy), well-read, and always occupied (and yet forever available if I needed him).  My father did not raise me to be dependent upon him.  My father did not raise me to fall apart when he is gone.  My father raised me to live my own life; and if I faltered, he would fix it so that I could continue along the path I had chosen.  My father was unexpectedly hilarious in rare moments.  My father rarely spoke using contracted words, usually preferring to speak the word in its entirety as if to savour the full meaning of it.  My father was contemplative. My father took incredibly good pictures, usually of things nobody else was looking at.  My father's handwriting was immaculate.  My father's patience was selective.  My father's curiosity was healthy.  My father's storytelling was legendary.  My father could write so that anybody would want to read him.  There is nobody, obviously, who will replace my father.

It is not a replacement I seek, in any event.  However, it is fair to suggest that my taste in a dominant -- my comfort zone in obedience and learning -- has been groomed by someone extraordinary.  It would be within my comfort zone to interact with a man who does not expect me to fall to pieces waiting for him to return.  I do not.  It is not in my makeup.  It would be within my comfort zone to interact with a man who gives me consistency and regularity in terms of time and attention -- and who otherwise allowed me to live my life, with faint reminders scattered here and there, and enjoy things to look forward to.  It is why I do not enter this lifestyle broken: it is not reparation I need.  It is not an antidote I seek.  My first dominant, the man who first guided me and fashioned me and set me loose upon the world to live as shaped by him, he did so with care.  I am accustomed to that; and I am satisfied with the course of my own journey now.  The course is taking me further towards You, the great and powerful You who has hypnotized my thoughts and who compels me forward and forward on.

I felt weak yesterday; today I feel strong.  Today I feel like I master the very darkness that I seek -- and I know that is not possible... but sometimes little victories feel like big ones.  My little victories:  I have further defined my submission; I have made a situation that was not working for me (and bringing me pain) work for me, and bring me security.  I do know some very good people in the world.  And I will know You, the cooling dark that surrounds my burning light, strips me bare so that there is nothing hidden or wanting.

Discipline as Shaping

It was an awakening to understand the difference between discipline and punishment.  I have long known they were different words.  I have long understood the connotations of each word.  I had even come to accept the common usage of these words in the D/s lifestyle.

And then, listening to Sir Dwight speak about the Master's perspective of pain in discipline and in punishment, suddenly I realized the difference between the two.

And then suddenly I realized how erotic seems this word, "discipline"... and what a killjoy seems the word "punishment".

Suddenly the demarcation sizzled its boundary.

I resist punishment.  I do not remember the last time I have ever required "punishment."  I resist the word so strongly in terms of my own character that I outright reject it.  "Someone who strives so honestly," I think to myself, "surely must not be deserving of censure or punishment."  Because I do strive; and I do care; and I do persist in my seeking.  I do wish to please; and I do wish to make sure that the pleasure I bring is meaningful and lasting.  My heart, in other words, is the heart of a submissive giver.  I come to realize this more and more with each passing day and each key learning.

On the other hand, do I require shaping?  Of course I do.  Do I require a firm hand to guide me? Absolutely, I do.  Do I long for the experience and expertise of a strong Dominant to shape me and guide me?  Without a doubt in my mind.  (And would I be turned-on-and-lit like a Christmas tree if that shaping and guiding involved careful and inventive discipline?  God... yes, yes, yes.)

Am I certain that the frenzy of submission that I feel right now needs to dial down a notch or two before I commit to anything long-term, lest I get myself embroiled in a situation that I wish I hadn't?  You bet.   Because each time I enjoy a "eureka" moment I do frenzy-up and start fingering my collar.  I can feel my knees weaken and my mouth watering.  I can feel all the unruly, undisciplined parts of me begin the cartwheeling and hooplah that make me feel so "out of control".

The irony is, I know I am quite capable of reining in my own bridle.  I know that I am composed, integral.  But what I ache for... what I wish for... what this whole thing is about, really, is to have someone who knows me (me...) well enough that he can do it for me, sometimes.   With elan.