LoneButterfly

Since my last journal entry, events have transpired which have given me insight into that quandary i posted.  I am so very grateful and thankful to have the answer to both sides of that coin embodied in my Sir.  He supports me when i need it, and allows me to take care of him, for in service i find some semblance of normalcy, order, and calm that is so very essential for me right now. 

How'd I get so lucky?

Sir posed a question yesterday:  Which is better:  to have someone to care for, or to have someone to care for you?  This is a very hard question for me.   I wonder if I'll ever decide on one being better than the other.....

I haven't been on here very much lately and that is a good thing.  I've met someone who makes me happy, makes me laugh, makes me forget sadness.  We've been spending a lot of time together and having a great time. 

All that gooey stuff aside, it makes me consider different dominant styles and different play styles.  I do not consider myself a brat or a SAM at all, but I do get pretty feisty with him.  It isn't disrespectful in any way, just very lighthearted and carefree.  I feel very much myself with him, without a need to watch what I say or do.  As far as scening goes, it is intense, but also very playful.  I am allowed (and even encouraged) to move around as I feel the need to.  Make no mistake - he is in control.

I have never experienced this style of play before, but I must say I am really enjoying it. It is way more physical, since I'm not required to maintain a static position.  There's lots of jumping and squirming, but that is good for both of us.

Well, it's not the most coherent or well-written journal entry, but, hey, who cares?

I have no tattoos. If I were to get one, this is what I'd get on my lower back. 






For those of you who don't recognize it, it's called an f-hole. A humorous choice of names considering my current audience, but I take no responsibility for the naming of said hole. They are carved into the wood on stringed instruments like violins and cellos to help project the sound.

Great Lakes Leather Alliance 2010 was this past weekend. What a great weekend it was, too! I always feel so relaxed when there, surrounded by people who view life in similar ways that I do.

I was priveleged to meet people whose grace and courage inspired me to better myself. I was witness to the continued tradition of the presentation of earned leathers to members of our community. I watched in awe as people bared their souls to those around them so that they could teach others.

All in all, an uplifting weekend. This community truly knows the meaning of the word "family".

A confession of pride

I have always considered myself a humble person.  Not the fawning sort, nor the martyr, but not thinking I was so very special from anyone else.  I try not to take myself too seriously or get too proud of my accomplishments.  I've found out the hard way that karma has a way of slapping you upside the head when you do that.

Today I was thinking about my attempts to resolve this last *brief* encounter and move on with my life.  I still get pangs, surges of adrenalin, and sadness when I think of him.  Pathetic, probably.  Uncommon, probably not.  Women need closure and not having it makes us crazy.  But I digress.......

In my BDSM paradigm, the need to serve is not enough.  I must serve *well*.  I am admittedly a perfectionist, and entirely too hard on myself when I am not.  So, when I fail, as I think I must have somehow, it digs like a splinter in my foot until I can remove the cause and examine it.  Only then can I heal.

The epiphany for me today was not that I take pride in serving well.  I knew that already.  My pride took a big hit in this last whatever-it-was.  I didn't do something well enough as someone else and that really hit my ego and my pride - hard.  I lost.  I don't like losing.  I need to learn to accept failure (unpleasant as it is) and therefore imperfection as opportunities to improve myself.  I also need to accept the fact that, hard though it may be to swallow, it may also be something as simple as a preference for a physical characteristic that causes me to lose to another.  Oddly, that sort of randomness is harder to accept.  Go figure.

So, I think that was karma slapping me upside the head.  I need to recognize that I cannot be all things to every potential dominant in my life.  I am imperfect.  It is unrealistic and arrogant of me to assume that I am capable of that, just as every potential dominant is not going to be suited to my tastes through no fault of their own.

Thank you Karma.

Storms and Energy:

When I was a teen, I was very sensitive to storms.  I'd stand outside as they rolled in.  The wind caressed my face, stinging my cheeks with my hair.  The air smelled different, too, as if it were freshly scrubbed along some treetops before coming to my nostrils. 

The sounds it made as it whipped across the fields and through the trees carried a tale of unknown promise.  The electricity was everywhere, whipping around with the currents of air.  Just as long exposures on photos cause streams of light, this energy flowed around the air currents and was just short of visible.  The air was pregnant with promise and potential.  It was as if it were beckoning me to come with it, to ride this bouyant stream and experience what it was like to be one with the wind, one with the earth's energy.

I wish I could have that feeling again.

smoldering, simmering
fires burning deep inside, currents running swift and deep
the coals seem quenched 'til touched, then what was hidden is seen
the river seems quiescent on the surface until one wades in
a like mind can see the depths of the fire and the swells of the current
and is drawn irresistably towards it
like a moth to a flame, like the turtle to the sea

Wade into the river, let the current draw you in
embrace the coals, let the fire consume you
at this point we are most alive, most elemental

Fear as aphrodisiac

Fear isn't something I have sought out in the past.  I have defined myself as a sensualist, not pain slut, intense, but not an edge player.  So, to think of fear in terms of a tool used in play is not my norm.  I have recently been given to thinking about this concept and how it works (for me) into a scene in a positive way.  I should also say that I have long been fascinated by abduction and play rape scenes, but never experienced them.
 
I find the pulse-pounding, adrenalin-surging reactions of a tense situation can heighten a scene for me.  From a physiological standpoint, these reactions are a result of the 'fight or flight' response kicking in as a real or perceived threat presents itself.   Evolutionarily speaking, these responses saved our lives and allowed us to hunt another day.  The heart pumps blood faster, breathing increases, arteries constrict, pupils dilate, hair follicles stand up.  Our senses become hyper-vigilant to fend off our predator. 

Or not.  These increased sensations increase our pleasure and/or pain as well.  If every fiber of your being is poised to detect the slightest touch, then the flick of the knife, or the hand on your throat is magnified in both sensation and perception.  The knife is more dangerous, the hand like a vise.  The look of the hunter as he pins his prey sends the reponse surging yet again. 

During this response, the gut has its blood supply shunted away from it.  Digestion is not so important as survival at this point.   What is curious to me is that my pussy gets wetter and wetter, not shutting down at all, but opening wide. 

I'm welcoming the hunter.

My demons get the better of me sometimes.  It annoys me.  I should be more logical, but I have a hard time with that with certain aspects of my life.  Damn.