Emotion-building

I think sometimes that I am not built for emotions.

I either feel nothing, or I feel too much.

Mostly it’s nothing. That’s the truth.

I have joked before that I’m ‘dead inside’. I don’t know why I would make that joke. It’s not even remotely funny.

But then I can also be overwhelmed by emotional input. And honestly, it’s mostly people throwing their emotions at me: Fear, desire, heartache, insecurity, loathing, lust, anger, hurt, confusion… and usually it’s fine. I appreciate that they trust me enough to share those things with me. It’s a privilege and I honour that. I am strong, I can take it, and sometimes I can help. I want to help.

But when it gets to be too much it can suck the life right out of me.

So then I am empty inside AND overwhelmed, both at the same time.

Emotionally wrung out without any emotions of my own.

So today, I’m in that space. Exhausted and empty.

It will pass, of course. I know this, and I know that writing about it gives it more weight than it deserves.

But still: Send champagne, I’m sure that will help.

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Eight and a half hours

Eight and a half hours later, he left.

A much longer date than expected.

Late in the afternoon, we fortified ourselves with crackers, vegetable sticks, and dips I had prepared for snacks, and slices of chocolate mud cake and strawberries that he brought. When it got late though, way past dinner time, I had no real food to offer him. I lamely offered to cook some eggs. We had more chocolate cake instead. And champagne. Though that was mostly for me.

We had agreed on certain personal services for our date:

  • Forced winking* (not negotiable)
  • Kissing
  • Food/wine service
  • Hand/foot massage
  • Nail polish

I had put many many more ‘maybe-possibles’ on a list for him to approve. Or not. He said ‘yes’ to all of them, with the caveat of ‘no bite marks on the neck’, which seemed prudent.

It was a beautiful afternoon when he arrived: sunny and warm. A greeting kiss. I wore heels, he was quite a bit shorter than me: cute.

I had him open a bottle of champagne, we each had a glass.

I asked him if he would be okay to kneel out on the deck for me. It faces the road and the park, but it’s high, unobtrusive. He looked out, nodded.

“I’d be fine with it, Ma’am,” he said.

So we started there on the deck, with him kneeling by my chair, coconut oil and a hand massage.

Ferns nails

We talked all afternoon as he provided these personal services, moving inside when it got cool, stripping him down to his boxer briefs once out of public view. He took direction well, did a wonderful job on my nails. Not perfect, but skilled. It was easy between us: sweet, slow, a natural D/s energy. He was open and engaging. It didn’t hurt that he’s really pretty: fit and lean with pecs that form a solid handful. A pleasure to have half-naked at my feet.

I’m not sure how long it all took, but my newly painted nails were well and truly dry by the time my foot massage was finished. I felt luxuriously pampered.

When I decided I wanted to try some light play, he compliantly followed me into the bedroom. A shove and he fell backwards onto the bed, I straddled him. Kissing.

Him bound to the bed then, kissing-date style, blindfold. But something was ‘off’. I tried a few different approaches to reach him but he had closed down, was largely unresponsive. It felt like throwing energy into a void. I slowed it down and verbalised the thought ‘dead body’, a thought that didn’t deserve to leave the inside of my head, but it did, strangely and without context.

We regrouped, talked some more. Had more cake. Some petting, gentle reconnection, him at my feet again. He left not that long afterwards. Eight and a half hours after he got there.

We’ve been in touch quite a bit since. He is genuinely lovely and open and was frank with me about how he was feeling.

We agreed that the D/s service worked, was sweet, and was worth doing again. The play, though, revealed a fundamental incompatibility. The bottom line is that my play style is too affectionate for him, plus he had a fear that my affection meant I was nudging into ‘more than casual’ territory. The latter was easy to dismiss but the former is immutable.

My play style depends on many factors, but intensity of the type I have written about in the past requires intimacy and lust and overwhelming desire, and that doesn’t just ‘happen’ with virtual strangers. My play with strangers is light and fun and affectionate, and it builds with time and trust until they are no longer strangers, and then it’s not so light and perhaps not so ‘fun’.

That place where I want him so much that I’m going to tear off his skin, crack open his rib cage, and punch him right in the heart, over and over until he’s dead** does not come easily or quickly to me.

His experience to date has been with Dommes who were more scary-sadistic uber-Domme straight out of the gate, and that is obviously a completely different flavour of play.

We are keeping in touch with fun and friendly texts, and if I feel like another service date, I am privileged that he is happy to oblige.

So we will see.

___

*’Forced winking’ was the outcome of our texting where he was abusing the winky face for no good reason. He struggled to stop it when I asked him to. So I made him wink at me with every sentence he uttered for ten minutes to illustrate how dumb it is. It was hilarious.

** Not literally…

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e[lust] #85

Welcome to Elust 85

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 #86 Start with the rules, come back September 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Use
Hot
The Case of the Purloined Panties

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The Inspection Zone
Date with prey

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Voyeur

*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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Administery admin: aka ‘yawnfest’

I know you all just want to hear about my date, but bear with me here: I’m about to change my blog theme (have I ever mentioned how much I hate change? I do, I hate it).

About 54% of my readers access my blog from desktops, 32% from mobiles, and 14% from tablets. My current theme is so old that it doesn’t properly support the smaller devices, so the main driver for this change is to make my blog more readable to those folks *waves hello*.

I’ve tested the theme locally and made a ton of customisations (with many thanks to My-Man-Who-Knows-Everything for his stellar technical help!) so it’s about as ‘good to go’ as I can making without pushing the button. So now I just have to push the button.

The switch-over will have some glitches, this I know, because technology. So if things are a little off, that will be why.

Fingers crossed I don’t crash the entire site…

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Personal service date

The boy who I have quietly dubbed ‘my prey‘ kept in touch with me after our date. There is ‘something’ pleasing about him that I can’t quite put my finger on, you know: ‘something’. His engagement is light and fun and he makes me laugh. His little hints of submission are sincere and flirtatious. He hasn’t balked yet at my nudging at him a little.

He didn’t push me (prey doesn’t push), but he was obviously keen to meet again. I very much like what he brings to the table, so I invited him on a second date, to see if I can make something casual work.

He’s coming over for some light personal service this weekend, to see how it feels. I’ve asked him specifically to be my eye candy, to serve drinks, to provide a foot and hand massage, he will do my nails. There will be kissing. It will be light and sweet. I want to see how the D/s energy is between us.

I may want more and will put a list of ‘maybe-possibles’ in front of him so that he can veto those he’s not comfortable with. Where I take it within those boundaries will be at my whim.

I mused on Twitter that for someone with whom I am looking at something casual, he brings MORE of his submission to me at this early stage than many men with whom I am exploring something long term.

It’s an interesting contrast. And it may partly be me: perhaps because it’s NOT some big heavy exploration into something long term, we are both skipping lightly. Our defences don’t need to be up, so the little hints of D/s are what they are: Nothing more, nothing less.

He doesn’t hesitate when I ask him for something (the ‘not-shaving for a week’ being the biggest so far, and a relatively big ask for a casual date). Just… “Yes, Ma’am” *swoon*. He has been like this from the outset, along with a healthy dose of amusing cheekiness to see what he can get away with. I have almost forgotten how fun-sexy-sweet this kind of natural D/s interplay feels.

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Date with prey

A date with a lovely submissive boy who has been in my inbox on and off for about four years. He’s smart, personable, articulate, and pretty as fuck with a body to die for.

We talked about meeting a few years ago, but when I dug a little deeper, I could see that we weren’t compatible, so we never did. There were a few factors: He’s nearly 20 years younger than me (obviously that’s still true!), he had some very strong (and incompatible) ideas about how D/s relationships ‘should’ be run, and he was still carrying the weight of his last relationship on his shoulders. I didn’t have the appetite to tackle it.

And still every time he popped up in my inbox, we’d have a fun little chat, he’d hint at maybe meeting up, and I’d pretty much ignore it until the next time. This time he cutely pushed a little harder with the hinting, and I picked it up and suggested we get together.

We spent about 4.5 hours together. It was easy, interesting, fun. He still has some ideas that are incompatible with me, but he seemed more open to alternatives now.

And he is prey. He is prey in that way that few boys are. He knows his value, has some cockiness about him, but underneath he is a deer that wants very badly to be caught in the headlights of some truck that is hurtling at him full tilt. He is disappointed each time it fails to happen.

We’d been talking for a long while when I kissed him.

Leaning over, pulling him towards me, exploration there in that bar, just seeing how it felt. He came to me with a kind of surprised shyness, then was all-in. It was good: sweet, promising. And afterwards he was a little dazed and flustered, which I love, softly exclaiming that I was like a man, well not *like* a man, but my approach was more like a man, but not that he felt like a girl, really… Like I said: a little flustered.

We went for a walk in the last hour or so. Beautiful, along the river, the sun just dipping below the horizon. Talking about nothing in particular, my hand on the back of his neck. When we stopped, I let him come to me. He doesn’t like doing that. I know he doesn’t. So I enjoyed even more that he did it. Stepping closer, slowly, his head slightly tilted, then almost waiting to see if his offer would be accepted. Still prey. Even then.

It’s hard to describe how someone is prey. It’s uncalculated, guileless, they signal a kind of innocent vulnerability, emit an unconscious distress signal. In the face of it, I feel aggression, and I love that. Grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket and around the throat, holding tender skin between my teeth, hearing a soft grunt, an exclamation, shoving him around a little, touching muscle under his shirt with cold fingers, using handfuls of flesh to pull him closer, feeling that ache in my belly that makes me bare my teeth and want to snarl. It’s rare.

Sounds promising right? Of course it does.

But… (there has to be a ‘but’…) he’s not looking for a long term relationship. I hadn’t asked about it. He’s been on my radar for so long that I didn’t really ask any of those kinds of pre-meet questions. It’s fair enough: He’s young, wants to explore, play with new people, is planning more travel.

He’s absolutely open to meet up again, but casual is not a thing I do well. Too greedy, too demanding, too possessive. But mostly, it just leaves me feeling bereft: lonely for everything that it isn’t.

I’ve told him that if I want a boy for some casual cuffed-and-collared shoving around, he’s the first on my list. Truth be told, I’m thinking about it.

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