When I started this blog and the associated (then open) twitter account. I was hoping to find people who were also kinky, people to talk to, people like me. To feel less alone in this world.
Yet since those days, things have changed. My kink sexuality has switched directions, I have needed to make the twitter account private. Still I have continued to write here still seeking to make connections.
The situation is exacerbated by real life limitations. I find myself often unable to attend the few suitable kink events I know about, unable to find readily available alternatives. I’m too poor to simply hire a dungeon, tempting as that is and it is hard to find space, time and focus at home to play without work or social responsibilities intruding. All of which leaves my online life as a significant part of my kinky self.
So now I find myself feeling lonelier than ever. The people who read this blog now are not the ones who were there when I started and why ever you read, few of you feel moved to comment, to encourage or even to criticise (many thanks to all of you who do). On twitter, few people respond to my tweets, and many of the people I wish to talk to cannot see me (even if I respond to them).
All of which leaves me wondering what I should do next. I cannot significantly change how I write, after all, I am who I am, but still if I knew what would interest people I would love to open a dialogue here. I would love to read more blogs by people who would be interested in my comments to them, if only I knew how to find them. I could open my twitter account, and perhaps more people would find me or respond to me but then the people I follow are presumably not interested in me or they would already follow me back. They may indeed have followed and unfollowed already who can say.
I genuinely don’t know what to do. I find myself alone, a girl learning to be a Domme, with no one to ask for advice, no encouragement, only a growing sense of loneliness and inadequacy.
All advice gratefully received.
I was writing; a fantasy scene which I’ll doubtless post here soon. In it my protagonist gets beaten and I was considering the details. I decided on his belt as being an appropriate choice of weapon. Suddenly I was consumed with memories of how sweet such a beating felt and with a longing for such pain again.
I don’t actually like pain; most of the time at least. Occasionally though there is a need in me which hungers to be met.
What I’m struggling with now is understanding how I can handle such needs. My submission is gone although my submissiveness is not. I currently lack the trust and confidence to simply surrender such desires to Perrin. In the past few months I’m very aware that only Mat’s insistence has led to satisfaction of such needs at all. He has led me by the hand to insist on what I need, or even more recently held me while I received it. The last time was an unexpected occasion. Perrin picked up the crop but where I might have resisted Mat twisted me round until my body covered his. “She’ll protect me” he joked.
Oh he was playful, he needs no defence by me and he offered me to what he thought I would enjoy. Still, I stayed for those words. I would have taken all the pain in the world to protect him in that moment. While he held me I felt strong enough to accept whatever came. My confidence was in him and that realisation is painful in itself. My submission to Perrin is lost in the difficulties of dealing with his depression.
So for now I cannot simply stretch out, ropes around my wrists and ankles, losing myself in pain. Whipped for another’s pleasure, giving myself in total surrender… but I digress.
Instead I have my memories and my fantasies. I have also the ability to give my boy what I cannot take for myself. For now that is enough.
Where have my fantasies of submission gone? Why can I not find words to capture my own desires and imaginings?
Certainly real life has been getting in the way. Getting in the way of any actual expression of submission, getting in the way of my finding things to say here, and getting in the way of writing any erotica. Even the scribbled notes, with outlines of scenarios which I know were hot when I first conceived them lie cold and untouched now.
I’ve tried to encourage my own creativity, by reading other’s writings. Blogs I know I love, authors who usually inspire and arouse me. Today though I feel no emotional response to such things. Submission has fled so far away that it leaves me slightly unsettled to read such stories, recognising, remembering the feelings involved, but unable to enjoy them.
I know myself well enough now to know it will be back. The desire for submission lurks below the surface. I feel its pull from a distance, I merely cannot touch it.
I do miss it though.