One Saturday night, a few weeks ago, I sent Mark a message over BlackBerry IM.
Delilah: I had this totally bizarre thought of getting my anger out by beating you up. But that’s too weird!
Mark: I thought of that too. Letting you beat me.
Mark: If you think it would help. . .I would totally do it.
We took the plunge and did it.
We decided to explore something new. I topped Mark.
Blah blah, New Year, blah blah, changes, blah.
I know every blogger out there is writing these wrap up posts, looking back at the year and looking forward to 2009.
I have no huge regrets for 2008. None. I have a few small ones, embarrassing moments that I could have gone without, poor decisions. On a whole, I’m amazingly pleased with how much I’ve developed as a person and as a submissive.
Despite how uncertain our relationship seems at the moment, I love Mark very much and I would not take back anything that we did. “Your love woke me up. It healed me.” He said, during one of our text messaging conversations. His love did the same for me, woke me up out of the three year sleep I was in.
We had an incredible year together; San Francisco trips, two BDSM gatherings (Folsom Fringe and TESfest), two contracts, dozens of scenes and thousands of hugs, kisses, and text messages between us.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I have a few resolutions.
Below is the continuation and conclusion of my other post, Things I Don’t Want to Say, about a scene that Sir and I had when our contract ended.
Hi everybody. I’m back! I’m more or less whole, despite going through the WORST finals week I’ve ever gone through. I pulled multiple all nighters, I broke down into several crying fits and bouts of absolute despair. Ugh.
But now, I am home. I’m home, and I’m relaxed, and I’m also. . . uncollared.
Our contract expired. And I don’t know if we’re signing one again. And that absolutely fucking terrifies me.
Keeping to my promise, this is a post I wrote in November about the end of our contract, but never posted. I want to try to clean out as many old posts as I can. I’ve been taking care of myself, relaxing, eating, sleeping in and doing a lot of thinking.
I also got a MacBook for Christmas, and I’m thinking of doing some podcast posts.
This is part one of that night. I’m writing another post to finish it; it was a very eventful night.
- – -
I grew up in a very stoic household. I’m Asian. Culturally, we do not seek help for our problems because we are ashamed. Shame drives us to hide things, to hide our emotions, to uphold the honor of the family and ourselves.
I was very precocious as a child, and my parents demanded nothing less than perfection, even though I was already very high functioning. I was identified gifted in second grade. All of my spelling tests that came back as A- would be questioned as to why I only got an A-, not an A. My parents are emotionally distant towards each other and it bled over to me. My mother said that being overweight was shameful. They also refused to take me to counseling because they were ashamed that I needed counseling in the first place. They laughed off my very real anxiety problems and ignored the fact that I really needed help.
Shame is a very powerful and debilitating emotion for me.
This still haunts me now, as an adult and a submissive. I am very quick to feel ashamed of myself, and as Sir puts it, it paralyzes me. I emotionally shut down. Sir can see it on my face. I judge myself over every little thing wrong. Every thing I do wrong is another reason for someone to judge me, hate me, leave me.
My parents made me feel ashamed because they thought I would work harder, be better, make them prouder if I felt ashamed.
C made me feel ashamed because it made himself feel better. He made me feel ashamed of my body, my sexual desires, everything about me. He felt stronger, I felt weaker and I faded away.
At the end of the contract, I felt very, very ashamed.
I was ashamed of how much I had failed Sir, how many times I had slipped up. All the slave tasks gone undone, emails unsent, food eaten. I felt horrible.
After cleaning His bedroom and operating under speech restriction (no speaking), He forced me onto my knees and chained my collar to the radiator. Then He threw a pad of paper and a pen on the floor and told me to write about all the ways I had failed Him. I was balancing on my knees, on a small white pillow.
I was floored. I was absolutely devastated. I didn’t know why this was happening. I felt my heart close up, I felt myself shutting down. I started staring at the floor. I wouldn’t look Him in the eye. I tipped my head over so my hair fell into my fave. Even when He grabbed my head or my hair to force me to look at Him, I would look away.
Then I started crying. I started crying, sobbing, begging to not have to do this. I fell from on my knees to a sitting position on the floor. I told Him all the ways I felt I had failed Him. I wouldn’t stop crying.
Then He pulled me up onto the bed and I kept crying. I started screaming. I started screaming at Him. I started screaming about how I didn’t want to do this, how I wanted to be unchained. I was too tired to fight, too emotionally distant. I felt like I was on the outside looking in.
“I hate myself so much right now!” I was screaming. “I HATE YOU!”
“You -hate- me?” Sir said, with deliberate emphasis.
“I HATE YOU AND I HATE THE WAY YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL! I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH RIGHT NOW! I WISH I COULD DIE!” I was hysterical.
He held onto me and I fought Him. He started whispering to me. Trying to console me. “You want to know what would be on my list? Nothing. You’re the one who is torturing yourself, pet. You never failed me. You could have done everything wrong all the time and I would still love you. I love you more for being imperfect.”
But I had already pulled away. I was already gone. I had already dissociated out of the moment. I felt numb.
Even now, I’m emotionally distant just writing this. Sir hadn’t meant to push me that far, didn’t expect that I would react the way I did.
I felt absolutely blank. No anger, no emotions at all. I pulled away from Him and started shivering. I felt cold.
Sir could see the blank look in my eyes, across my face. We talked about what had happened, how I had felt. Tears would drip down my face, big fat tears.
I really, honestly, felt absolutely devastated on the floor of His bedroom. I felt like I was being forced to admit that I was a horrible person to His face.
It was just a total breakdown of communication at the wrong time. He thought it would go much simpler than that; He thought I would write out a list of things, He would look at them, and THEN tell me that I never did anything wrong. We never got to that last part, because I started breaking down. He didn’t expect my reaction.
I felt totally disconnected to everything, including Him. I stared at the ceiling. For a long time, I didn’t know what I needed.
I needed to reconnect. I needed to feel safe. I needed to feel loved.
“What do you need, pet?” He whispered, softly, tenderly. He was kissing my neck.
I looked Him in the eye. “I need you to hurt me.”
The truth is, both Mark and I are kind of scattered and all over the place. Mark has had a lot of work, and I’ve been pummeled with work at school and at Obnoxious Public Relations Firm. I register for classes next Wednesday. Our contract ends next Monday.
We’re having some contemplation time before we sign another contract. I’m trying to get my head on straight. Sometimes, college feels like one crisis after another. Mark and I love and support each other, but I feel like in this next contract, there are some things I would like to reconsider and some places where I want to grow.
I’d like more protocol, for one. I loved the protocol training weekend that we had over the summer. I would like to do more protocol. It wouldn’t have to be as formal. I know that for both of us, it can be hard to switch between mindsets. That is ultimately what stops us short of having protocol; the mind blocks. I have desires for those periods of protocol and restriction, but we don’t do them very often.
Particularly, I’m fascinated when I’m on speaking restriction. The silence that surrounds us is nice to experience.
If I’m being REALLY honest with myself, I LIKE Him knowing where I am all the time. Even though this strict protocol that I’m living under right now is only supposed to be temporary. . .maybe elements of it can sneak into the next contract.
I want to live joyfully in my submission. That probably sounds so cheesy, but I want to exist happily in it, instead of worrying about my submission or worrying about whether I’m submissive enough or not. I tend to worry so much about my submission, even when I’m under strict protocol. I want to worry less.
I can’t really think of anything else at the moment. I’m post very quickly because a) I have to be at work soon and b) this satisfies my requirement for the day. Yay! However, it has also given me something to think about, so that’s good.
BUT, now I can ask permission to play World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King later! YES!
I am the WoW player out of the two of us, I tried to get Him into it, but He just was not having it. Heh.
Sir makes jokes about being afraid He’s ruined me, exposing me to all of this, you know. BDSM. Heh. While I don’t think He’s ruined me, I do think I’ve reached this point in my life where I can say, I can’t go back to a vanilla relationship. I like this too much.
“This” does not signify only the activities, the sex, the munches, TESfest, meetings or the clubs. It also means the intimacy, honesty, emotional and sexual fulfillment and sense of completion it gives me. I feel, at the point I am right now, if I were to give all of this up and go into a vanilla relationship, I would be devastated. If I had to go into some sweet, boring, blah relationship, I would be so FUCKING BORED. I would feel so stifled. I feel like being a BDSM relationship allows both people to be more honest, with themselves and with their partners.
I feel like I would have to hide so much of myself, those things that I bare so openly right now. The things that Sir wants to hear, urges me to tell him; my needs, my desires, the thoughts that scare me and all of the things I’m curious about. I’m tired of hiding. I spent my high school years behind masks.
I mean, I feel safe enough to be able to say, “Yes, I liked when you were choking me while you were fucking me” or “I like it when you slap my face” or “I think about crawling on the floor in front of you.” I really don’t think I would feel anywhere near open enough with a vanilla partner to say those things.
Spending my formative sexual development years with a boy who was bloody awful in bed made me realize something. Every relationship I have after that, will need to have amazing sexual chemistry.
It’s awful to spend four months lying beneath some boy you don’t give a shit about; you might as well be a knothole in a tree. I felt no sexual attraction to my exboyfriend, C, after a while. I felt no need to initiate sex, I felt distant and I began to hate myself after having sex with him. I don’t orgasm from oral sex, because my previous long term partner didn’t care enough to make me orgasm and made me feel guilty about wanting oral sex.
Read that last sentence over.
No woman should ever feel GUILTY for wanting consensual sex. I almost can’t believe that I let that happen to me for so long.
And now I can’t orgasm from oral sex, and it makes me cry with frustration. I obsess. I feel guilty with Sir’s mouth between my legs. I feel like He’s annoyed with having to do it. I feel like I just can’t orgasm from it, so I try to close my legs and push him away. I always had to beg C to go down on me, so I didn’t believe it when Sir said that He LIKES to go down on women.
This is why I cannot be in a relationship right now where I would have to hide my sexuality. I’m already making up for lost time. I refuse to be in a relationship where my sexual needs are not being met. I can’t do that again. I can’t let it happen.
I love how BDSM is helping me grow as a person.
“Do you trust me, pet?” Sir asks while He holds the gag loosely in His hand. I barely squeak out a “yes” before He’s shoving it into my mouth.
And I instantly feel relaxed. I can’t speak. I can’t see. And I don’t have any choices.
- – -
I’m on a restrictive remote protocol until this contract expires. We’re renewing it again, that’s not a concern for either of us.
Last night we had a quick and dirty scene. I just needed pain, and lots of it.
He tied my hands up above my head and blindfolded and gagged me. He clamped my nipples and caned me with the huge, thick wooden cane and the thin metal one. Just repeated swats. Over and over and over. Last night, I just didn’t think. My mind went completely blank. It was so freeing.
Sir used me very hard last night. I was sopping wet from the caning and the clamping. He loved taking the clamps off while He was using me, so I would thrash around in pain. He kept saying over and over how I have no choices, how I can’t fight or resist, how I’m property and a slut. Fuck. It was so good. I couldn’t come while being fucked, so He used the hitachi on me. Mmm.
I crave pain much more lately. I also crave breathplay. Sir was pinching my nose shut while I had the gag in and it was so fucking hot. Probably mildly unsafe, but so fucking arousing.
I think I’m growing as a bottom, if that makes sense. My pain tolerance is increasing and are my desires for breathplay and restrictive bondage. I don’t know if I would have wanted these things so much a few months ago. Hmm.
I really have not been doing my slave tasks or my email reports or my daily picture.
I need to remember what all of this comes down to. I’m property.
I’m still property and a slave even if I’m crampy, stressed from school, stressed from work or tired. I’m wearing a slave collar.
I signed a contract at Sir’s feet because I need this. It was my choice and my choice alone. I signed it again even after Sir broke my heart in June because I forgave Him and I trust Him enough not to break it again. I did not sign it without a lot of soul searching, deep conversation and makeup sex.
I crave this feeling of being property. I need this. I feel better with a collar around my throat. The collar Sir yanks on when He’s fucking my throat. The collar He holds onto when He slaps me. Being a slave, having no choice, gives me somewhere to just be, as Sir puts it. And that’s perfect.
If I’m really honest with myself, my collar also makes me feel safer. Safe enough to handle being slapped, punched, caned until I’m crying, cry in front of someone else in general… I had a really intense orgasm on Sunday and almost started crying from the release. I feel beautifully present and whole during a scene.
I’ve never felt so close to someone else. I’ve never been so in tune and so connected with another human being. Sir treats me very well, and even when He is hurting me… still great at it. Ha.
We had a conversation last week about where our relationship is going to go, which always scares the shit out of me. It was good to have a frank, honest conversation. I don’t want to fuck up the time we have together now, by worrying about what will happen later. Everything will work out in the end. If it’s meant to be… let’s just say everything will be okay.
I want to enjoy everything right now. Present. Present.
I’m a slave.
I’m property.
I chose this.
I will choose this again.
I slept fitfully on the plane to California. I had rushed around all day; packing, buying food (that I ended up leaving in my dorm, oops), commuting to the airport and rushing through security. I was stuck in economy next to a man with awful breath. I was mesmerized by the movie that was playing in flight, “Speed Racer” and I listened to the in flight radio. After that was over, I was very restless. I was also starving, but I was being stubborn and didn’t like any of the airline snack boxes.
I was so, so glad to touch down in SFO. I ran to the bathroom after we were let off the plane, then I ran down to baggage claim where Sir was waiting. I wanted to jump in his arms.
We drove to San Jose and prowled around for food. Sir dragged me to a casino that happened to have a diner in it, and we had to sneak in because I’m not 21. Basically, I didn’t go to bed until 2am PACIFIC TIME. Which was 5am to my poor body.
i kissed a girl and i liked it
the taste of her cherry chapstick
i kissed a girl just to try it
i hope my boyfriend don’t mind it
it felt so wrong, it felt so right
don’t mean i’m in love tonight
i don’t even know your name, it doesn’t matter
you’re just my experimental game
just human nature
[katy perry, "i kissed a girl"]
I have pretty juvenile taste in music. I like any sort of alternative/emo/rock sounding stuff, and usually most Top 40 hits. Most of the music I listen to isn’t to Sir’s liking, (“Have you HEARD some of the stuff you listen to? GOD!” He says with a smirk.) so most of the time I just reserve it for when I’m in my car or on my iPod.
This song is just insanely catchy. It’s upbeat and provocative and pretty fun to turn up loud when you’re driving around. At least for me, it is.
I also think it captures the, well, fun of kissing a girl when it doesn’t really mean anything. I wrote earlier in the blog about the fact that I pretty much had my first kiss with a girl ‘auctioned’ off at a New Year’s Eve slave auction in a BDSM club. Even though I hesitated like hell when the time came to actually fill the slip out, I was actually excited.
I secretly liked being the object of so much spectacle, too. I liked the crowd at the door that appeared when the submissive woman was going to kiss me. I liked how intently both Sirs were watching us when we kissed. It was hot.
Sir and I are doing it! He’s already booked my flight and our hotel rooms for FOLSOM STREET FAIR this September 28th. We’re actually driving to San Jose for FolsomFringe the few days before.
Heading down to Folsom? Want to say hi to Delilah and Mark? Shoot me an email at collaredcoed@gmail.com. I THINK we’re volunteering at FolsomFringe. We are also, for the time being, planning on going to the Citadel party Saturday night.
And yes, I’m having my scene name written on my name tag. At TESfest we had to improvise and cover up my real name with scrap paper.
It’s going to be an intense weekend. If I was overwhelmed with TESfest, Folsom is going to be nuts. I’m flying out Thursday night and sleeping in San Jose Thursday night. Then I’m spending the whole weekend with Sir, and then we’re both boarding the red eye back home Sunday night. Just in time for class on Monday 
.
I’m sooo excited for Folsom, though. I really am. I’m already learning new things.
Such as what a hook pull is.
