Brittle

I feel brittle.

I don’t know why exactly. Well I guess I know why, I just don’t want to say so.

Not just brittle, but spiky. Edgy. Fragile. Irritated and impatient.

Breakable.

I’m busy being busy. Doing all the things, and doing nothing, making noise for myself, distracting myself from whatever is going on.

It works for the most part.

But I am caught in a quiet moment right now. Can’t concentrate enough to talk myself out of the quiet.

I will, though. In a moment. I can’t rest here, if I stop I am vaguely worried that I won’t ever move again.

Outwardly I am clear and focussed, normal, I’m fine.

How are you?

I’m fine.

It’s true, or close, or will be soon. Hard to say.

Too busy and not busy enough, frustrated with it.

I’d write angsty emotive poetry if I was good at it.

I’m not though.

Told a potential sub they weren’t a good match for me when they called my honesty ‘passive aggressive’. An immediate peak of annoyance, an ‘oh FFS’, a ‘bye now and good luck to you’. Polite and dismissive. Waiting for the blowback ‘stupid bitch’ ‘fuck you’ whatever. Bring it.

Told a young Domme with a douchebag sub to take a good long look at the things she is saying about him, about them. She knows she has to dump his sorry arse, but she is invested now, basic truths make her cry, it hurts my heart.

Exhausted by the effort in it. All of it.

I am not fit for people right now. Scowling at them before they’ve even said a word to me and covering the frown with tissue paper upon which I paint a face that isn’t mine. A transparent picture of a smiley face behind which I narrow my eyes and bare my teeth.

No I don’t want to talk about it.

I’m fine.

Come and expect nothing of me. Let me be the one to suck the energy from your very bones until you are dry and brittle and light as a feather. Until there is nothing left.

I will wave as you float away, not even mouthing a ‘thank you’, dispassionately watch you disappear into the sky as if you never existed at all.

A wisp, an idea, something that was never real.

I hesitate, always, to post such things. Too personal, too dull, too… everything.

But it’s this or nothing.

And I swear if anyone pop-psychologises at me (is SO a word!), or tells me what I ‘should’ do, or makes ‘helpful’ suggestions in the comments, I will rage-delete them with hard stabby fingers. Just… no.

I’m wallowing for a bit before I dust myself off and carry on. Just for a bit.

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e[lust] #98

elust is a monthly publication of links to a wide variety of blog posts about sex. It provides an excellent sex-positive resource for the sex blogging community to submit what they feel is their best/favourite post of the last month for each digest. For readers, it’s a great way to discover new sex bloggers.

Enjoy.

Welcome to Elust 98

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #99 Start with the rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Black and white

Underdressed

I Talk Sex – Female Sexuality and Education

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

You Don’t Know What Love Is

Writing for Free vs. Getting Paid

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Ropes, Silk, & an Egg

 

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

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Reader Q&A: Healthy pain play, how do I…, F/m events [Audio]

Music by M.M.

This ‘Reader Q&A’ is over an hour long(!) and includes the following:

  • Telling a dominant I like that I’m transgender
  • You are shit at marketing (it’s true, I am!)
  • How do you learn to cause someone pain in a good and healthy way?
  • For those submissive men who are looking, some examples of your competition
  • Cuckolding: Is she still dominant if she gets dominated by her ‘bull’?
  • What kinds of fetish wear do women like on men?
  • Dominance to help someone get out of their own head?
  • I met a dude who’s submissive, now what?
  • How to approach D/s with a vanilla man I like?
  • My maledom is an immature babby (FINE THAT’S NOT THE ACTUAL QUESTION)
  • Struggling to work out D/s with my wife, any advice?
  • Spencer’s epic poem “The Faerie Queene” Canto 5 is fab femdom!
  • We’re both submissive, how do I get her to dominate me?
  • ‘The Great Gatsby’ style F/m events?
  • And more!

Huge thanks (again) to My Fabulous Man Who Knows Everything (MFMWKE) for transcribing the audio for me.

The great top-and-tail music was created for me by the lovely M.M., thank you.

Editor note: The audio is a bit inconsistent, and I say something that implies I’m nearly done about half way through because REASONS: DON’T TURN IT OFF OR YOU’LL MISS OUT. Also: I am really bad at sound editing :P.

The Domme Chronicles podcast is available on iTunes, so you can subscribe to it if you want to be sure to get my audio porn delivered straight to your ear holes.

___

Want to ask me something? Pop on over to my Ask Me page and do it (though if it’s something time-critical, I suggest you ask your question pretty much anywhere else…!). It’s completely anonymous, even to me, so nobody will know it was you…

___

Full transcript after the jump…

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I forgive you

I call it forgiveness, but it’s not. Not really.

Intellectually, I can say ‘I forgive you’ and I can even think that it’s true and that I mean it. You are sorry, I see that, I’m a generous person, I want to move past it, I forgive you.

But the emotional truth is that I don’t forgive you. I don’t think I’m capable of it, or at least I don’t think so anymore.

If it’s big and hurtful and egregious, if you behaved poorly, if you lied, betrayed my trust, did something terrible, I will never truly forgive you.

Once you have broken this delicate web that we have painstakingly spun between us, it’s broken.

I will remember not just the fact that you broke it, but that feeling of looking at you with new and startled eyes, that revelation, that fundamental change where a moment ago I knew you, and now I don’t. Now that I know what awfulness you are capable of, you are an entirely different person from the one you were five minutes ago. Suddenly you are a stranger who did The Bad Thing and I rewrite our entire history with that new knowledge in hand.

I don’t say ‘I don’t forgive’ as some kind of badass statement of chest-beatery. In all honesty, this is a surprise to me.

In the aftermath of someone doing The Bad Thing, someone I care about, I have said ‘I forgive you’. I meant it. I thought I meant it.

But in my heart, I strip the person of their rights with regard to me, I see every interaction through a filter that I can’t clear.

This may *look* like ‘you have to earn my trust back’ and that’s fair. But it’s more than that.

It’s not intentional: It’s not a punishment, it’s not anger, it’s not resentment, or a grudge that I deliberately hold onto and wave around like a stick to beat you with.

It’s like a wound that never properly heals. It’s not gaping wide and bleeding all over the ground, but any pressure on it will split it open again. It doesn’t even hurt. It’s more like ‘oh yeah, that’s where you stabbed me, that’s The Bad Thing’.

My go-to thought process going forward is not at all that of a person who has forgiven.

‘Wait, you’re pissed at ME about some issue when you did The Bad Thing?!’

‘No, you don’t get to demand that of me when you did The Bad Thing’

‘You’re trying to hold the high ground here after you did The Bad Thing?!’

‘Well you might think that’s unfair, but in light of The Bad Thing, you don’t get to complain’

I may not say it out loud, but it comes quickly and unbidden, and poisons both of us. I keep The Bad Thing close, it’s a dark shadow cast over everything from that point forward, just there in my peripheral vision.

That’s not what forgiveness looks like. It’s not even close.

I have been lucky, so very lucky. I have lived a life where I really haven’t had many experiences of people I care about doing wrong by me, but it means that I have no experience dealing with it. Mostly if someone treats me poorly, they are relative strangers, not worth the time or effort to deal with, I just cut them out of my life and I’m done.

But when it’s someone close to me, someone I value… well, I have no map to navigate it.

So yeah, apparently I won’t forgive you.

Even if I really really want to.

I won’t.

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Harsh? Who me?

I don’t think of myself as harsh or rude or any of those things.

Honest, yes (but not the ‘I’m just being honest’ type of brutality that people use to justify being an arsehole).

Forthright, you bet.

Sometimes impatient, sure.

Easily irritated (with strangers at least), yep.

But harsh? I tend(ed) to think not.

I had an exchange on a BDSM dating site the other day that both made me laugh and made me wonder if I AM harsh. I responded in an exasperated way to someone who replied to me with a terrible cliche. In my mind, I was giving him a chance to regroup and engage with me in a realistic way but perhaps I was using a cudgel instead of giving him a nudge with a small pokey stick.

It started with an unsolicited note from a submissive that referenced the warning on my profile that I would probably not reply to emails unless they were outstanding because I prefer to do the hunting. He read my profile, which is a big tick, the email was a bit cute, so okay. In his email, he referred to himself as ‘fair game’ and mentioning doe eyes. It was cute enough that I replied in a similar tone.

Hello [potential prey],

Game has to have an enticing scent to attract a hunter.

Your profile smells of… hmmm… not much of anything useful… [3 lines, vague and uninformative]

What makes you worth chasing?

Ferns

Of course, I was asking for conversation, to learn about him. His reply was… disappointing: A snippet of noise with no substance.

Unquestioned obedience Ma’am. Imagine having someone who would offer there[sic] all

I’m already at ‘nah’ both on form and content, but I thought, “Okay let’s see if he will step up if I push him out of this trite nonsensical non-thinking.”

Hello [potential prey],

You missed my point and an opportunity.

If ‘your all’ is a boring one dimensional individual with no interests, no ambition, no emotional life, no intellectual pursuits, no challenging job, no hilariously ridiculous jokes, no romance, no wooing, no thoughts to entertain and delight and fascinate me day in and day out, why would I be at all interested?

Unquestioned obedience from such a man is not something that appeals to me.

So I will ask you again: What makes you worth chasing?

Ferns

His reply:

I’m probably not suited to you Ma’am

I seriously couldn’t stop laughing when I read it (even now, it makes me laugh).

I mean, he’s right of course. And I REALLY appreciate him seeing it and politely saying so out loud: That’s rare. It’s just… so fucking funny.

I often wonder why people think I’m intimidating, but if I re-read my exasperated response, I can absolutely see someone going “Woah lady, this is NOT hot, NOT fun, and NOT what I signed up for: Hell to the no!!”

Okay, so fine, maybe I can be a little harsh.

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“He never looks at her the way he looked at me”

Public domain mark'Untitled' by aliceabc0

I have thought that of the men I have loved.

Along with “He never talks about her the way he talked about me” and “He never treats her the way he treated me”.

All thoughts bound up in love and nostalgia and memories.

But mostly, in those moments of brutal honesty, I know it’s pure ego with more than a touch of smug satisfaction. I touched those intimate parts of him, they are marked, and they are forever mine. Truly mine. And no-one else can have them.

And it may be true, or it may not be true. It doesn’t matter much.

It is more telling that I believe it, that I say those things to myself, or, perhaps, that I somehow feel I NEED to say those things to myself.

It is important to me to have those pieces, the hidden ones, the secret ones, the ones we whisper quietly in the darkness. Out of everything, I carved my name on those pieces, they are mine.

It is a shoring up of that which has been dented or broken, even though most times I was the one to end it. It is a reassurance that it all meant something.

And perhaps he does look at her differently, and I choose to see it as ‘less than’ for selfish reasons I am embarrassed to admit to.

Because if she gets more of him, or better, or even equal, to all that I had of him, I have to face that I wasn’t that special after all, that we weren’t special, that none of it was special. And my ego will root out and hold up proof that I was, glory in it, wave it around, parade it as if it matters to anyone but me.

It is a failing of mine. It is petty and small and mean-spirited.

But you know what?

He never looks at her the way he looked at me.

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