The Iron Gate - New Essays

Making a Corset Pattern with Duct Tape by Robin

Sat, 01 Nov 2008 22:01:24 CDT

If this is your first time doing a corset, then a pattern might be the best, however that patterns tend to fit the "average" figure. To make a rough pattern of what you are, just as a starting point I would suggest the old tee shirt and duct tape method. You need a friend to help or you must be very limber, an old tee-shirt, medical tape scissors (Sharp but rounded point), Sharpie Marker and a dressmakers tape measure.Remove the sleeves. Put on the tee shirt (If over the bust then a bra too) and start to tape.

�I liked to run the first tape from the top of the tee shirt to the bottom edge (Both front center and back center) and then from under the arm straight down to the edge of the shirt. Mark on the end of the tape the vertical center lines of the tape. Next piece is under the breasts. These do not have to be one continuous piece of tape, but they must go from tape to tape. Make sure the line of tape is even all the way around. .Work your way down with row after row of tape, it should be snug.� Make sure it is flat and smooth. If this corset is over the bust, then the piece the bust in place if there are cups, otherwise tape as you have been doing.

Add shoulder straps in needed. Please do not get to fancy, the edges can be rough. You are just trying to get an idea of what the pattern will look. Make sure all of the tee shirt is covered with layers of duct tape. Oh did I mention you may want the air conditioner on? Mark with the Sharpie vertical line for the front, back, sides (Under the arm, and under the front back of the arm, under the bust) a line around the corset under the bust, the waist, etc) Mark front, back,
the top of the shoulders (if you have straps), the bust points, etc. Use the dressmaker's tape measure to help make the line straight down.

Before you cut the it off, you need to make a few notations on the outfit, at least on the front center line. Place pattern markers >< at the top middle and bottom of the front along the line. Label them FT,FM,FB (front top, front middle, front bottom) on both side of the line. Once you feel it is about right, and then cut the shirt off, cut along the front of the shirt straight down the line you drew in the front. You should be able to get out of it now.

The next part will require a straight edge metal ruler, razor blade and a cutting surface (not the dinning room table).� Mark the back and side lines with the >< and what notation you wish to use, making sure they are unique. These are the pattern point where� you will have to reassemble the corset to.

Cut down the middle back (along the line) and the sides (the line under the arm pit and the shoulder straps at shoulder. You should have four pieces; put one side away for now unless you are asymmetrical.

Start the back piece, find a point somewhere half way between the back and the side and mark a line. Add the >< marks and label before cutting. Do the same in the front, those who have straps of over the bust with cups will have to remove the straps and cups, remember to
mark the >< where you feel it would be helpful. Draw a line on the front between the front and side, mark and cut. You should have 4 basic pieces for the corset (not including cups of straps). Depending on your figure, but you may have to cut section the corset into more pieces. From here you can make either a paper or muslin pattern. If you sew the muslin (you will need two of every piece) without adding more material for seam allowance, the pattern as it exists will be 4" smaller than you are. You can smooth out the edges as needed.

If you already have a commercial pattern that you like, you may want to compare the pattern with the one you just made and use the commercial pattern as a guide to where you want to cut the duct tape piece into. I hope I have not confused you.
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More Things NOT to Say to your Dominant... by blushRedTail

Thu, 04 Sep 2008 09:00:55 CDT

�- Is that the BEST You can do?

�

�- There is no such thing as long enough or hard enough...

�

�- i have NO limits

�- You wouldn't DARE do that...

�- i can take whatever You dish out.

�- That wouldn't be enough for me...

�- i've had better

�- You're not doing it right...

�- You missed a spot...

�- You want to put WHAT WHERE?

�- You do that one more time and You're asking for it!

�-�Neiner, neiner, neiner...

�- No Way Jose!

�- NOOOO! PLEASE STOP....

�(more reason to use SAFE WORDS!)

�- You wouldn't do THAT?

�- Well, THAT's a STUPID idea!

�

�- my previous Dom/me did it better

�- DO ME! DO ME! DO ME!

�- You're my baby!

��- But what would people THINK....?

�- i can’t help it

�

�-You need to learn how to count.

�

�- Ya Think?

�

�- DUH!

��- You don’t scare me�and the classic:- - THAT will NOT FIT!!!�
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Need, Of A Masochist by Tonja

Thu, 04 Sep 2008 08:59:56 CDT

This is a concept I have, only really in the 2 years, been trying to define and understand as it applies to me individually.

As a masochist, newer than some, and perhaps much more inexperienced than most would believe, I struggled in the beginning with even admitting to having such a need. It was almost shameful, for who in their right mind, would find such pleasurable satisfaction from receiving something simple like a flogging, or whipping? Yet, I did. Too, I found interest in almost any sort of implement that was designed with that purpose in mind; and even some that were not. On odd occasions, I would find myself glancing at an object, and imagining in my mind how it might be used to administer pain, and finding a moment or two for that very indulgence. Some instruments which I experimented with worked, and found their way into my little private drawer, others did not and were soon discarded.

Sexually, my fantasies were filled with acts of depravity and pain. I would furiously masturbate to many of them, and then afterwards question my own sanity. I was a female who did not enjoy pain, or, at the very least, was not willing to admit it. Gone, were the memories of what it felt like to scratch, cut, and feel the blood burbling forth from my skin; gone, were the moments of complete and utter pleasure as the rush of intense heat ran the length of my body and infused my mind with erotic desires; gone, were the moments afterwards, when I realized I was well-sated. You must understand, I was taught that all such sort of things were wrong, and needed a cure. I was a young adult back then, and there was little to no tolerance, or understanding, for one such as I.

So it was, that when my mentor first showed me that there was such a masochistic need within me, I fought. I believe, in my own way, not only did I try to fight that very realization, but too, I tried to push him as far away as possible. The thoughts I was having, the desire his words were provoking in me, frightened and sickened me. Yet, even with that, there was a stirring of comprehension within my own core. What exactly was normal and healthy anyhow? Was I not the same female that accepted and spoke of each person, regardless of gender and culture, society or environment, having unique and diverse interests that were no less normal and healthy than another's? Though it may be that the pursuit of certain expressions were less accepted than others for whatever reason, it was of no less of importance for that person seeking a way to actively enjoy them.

I started to realize that within me, is a thirst and hunger which cannot be sated by simple sexual interaction. In fact, sex was starting to bore me. There needed to be an added element of pain and pleasure, balanced and controlled by the hand of a man capable of keeping it so. My mentor became this man for me. I gave to him, the control to encourage and produce responses from me, that were already simply simmering below the surface, only blocked by doubt and disbelief. Through our interactions, he explored and directed my mind and body into accepting that which I could not, and bringing free the heated, sensual animal of a female who thrives on a twisted yet delicious mingling of severe pain and pleasure.

The need began to grow and develop. Often times, I would beg him for more pain, each time finding that sweet release even better for it. Yes, there is something so incredibly seducing about raw, erotic pain; something which makes even the most dry cunt start to sop and leak like an overflowing fountain.

I desired to find more opportunities to enjoy expressing this need at the hands of men. So it was, that I began locally engaging in social and private interactions with sadists. It was in fact, remarkably easy to display that need as well, being as it was so fresh and recently loosed. It was an attraction for any sadist simply speaking to me, for as it has been described since, there is something within this masochist which calls deeply to those holding the counterpart.

As much as I began to hold back the submissive response within me, for the lack of understanding it fully, as I have discovered to my own frustration it yet binds me deeper and more forcefully to who and what I am, as a female. Though it may be with each man, I shall not feel it, for certain, it resides within me. How can one fight nature? I cannot. I can no more fight my nature as a female, than I could further ignore the pleasure of being commanded by, and performing for, a strong, intelligent, sadistic dominant.

Need, is now openly displayed by me, whether recognized or understood by those witnessing it. I have rather strong and intense cravings to which I submit. Perhaps more so, ones that I have yet to submit to. I bear a certain responsibility in this, however. As a masochist, I am yet accountable for remaining aware of the risks I take; too, of using judgment and discernment in choosing those men to whom, during the course of our involvement, I will inevitably surrender control to. My own need, cannot in itself, be allowed to overrun or control my reality. I must and will remain aware of who and what I am, and the dangers to which I have accepted.

Need, does not supersede or negate the necessity for good, sound reason
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Kids and BDSM by kaya

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 13:56:03 CDT

My daughter found the key and rifled through our toybox about two years ago. She was 12. This absolutely and completely traumatized her. She had enough knowledge (most likely from the internet) to know what dildos and vibes and plugs were, cuffs and whips are pretty self-explanatory. Once it's found, there really is no denying it.

She didn't tell me at first. She told my mom. And she told the school counselor. There were no repercussions from the school, thank God (you worry about legal and child welfare things like that though). My mother, being the bible quoting, sex is dirty, masturbation sends you to hell type of woman that she is, spent long hours talking to my daughter about how wrong that stuff is. How there is something wrong with me, wrong with Master. I had no clue why my daughter was distancing herself from me. I didn't know what was making her so angry. She started fighting with me about letting her move in with her grandmother. I completely rejected the idea, of course! She's my daughter, no way was I going to let her go anywhere. My mother was also bugging me, telling me that I was making her miserable, that I should just let her be happy.

Then my daughter threatened suicide if I didn't let her move out. I was floored. I honestly just didn't know what was going on. I was heartbroken. We had always had a good relationship, she was my first-born, my miracle baby as I had been told I would probably never have kids. And she just seemed to hate me.

To make a long story short (yeah, like I can do that.), she did move out, and about a month after that, she told me what she had seen. She told me how angry she was that I was being abused. She said the sex toys were disgusting. She said I was disgusting. Master was disgusting. Everything was disgusting! She couldn't stand to look at me, she said.

When you get confronted with that, your first instinct is to deny it. But how do you tell someone they didn't see what they saw? How is denial or lies going to make it any less confusing? I went through a few days of conflict over how much, if anything to tell her. At 12, she barely had the basics of relationships and sex. But I knew if I was going to get her back, I would have to talk. So talk I did.

Without going into intimate details of my own personal sex life, I explained as best I could, the toys, the whips, and the emotions involved. That it wasn't abuse. That it wasn't illegal. (She thought, probably from my mom, that those sex toys were illegal.) I told her that sex was much more than what she was learning in health class. That sex and intimacy is not disgusting, that it can and should be fun and exciting and meaningful and thats what the toys were for. That all different sorts of sensations, including a little pain, can be involved. That exploring what you like, with someone you love, is natural and normal.

I didn't go into the power exchange or the Master/slave stuff. I don't think she picked up on that, or at least she didn't ask about it.

She did move back home and while she has never again asked me about my toys, she will ask me anything else. It was a hard road and could have ended badly, almost did, but in the end we are closer and more open. At 14 she's just starting her own explorations... first kisses and all of that. I like knowing she isn't afraid to talk to me now. She's asked me things like 'what does sperm taste like?' or 'what's up with butt sex, Mom?' And while each time my heart skips a beat and I still question how much info is too much, I at least know she'll come to me with things that arise.

I have two other kids who have no clue to this day why their sister moved out for that time. She's never told them about what she found and neither have I. What they have benefited from is the open and honest atmosphere that's developed. We are an affectionate, goofy, silly, fun family. Master makes no attempts to hide the fact that He finds me sexy, and vice versa. We'll often pretend to 'make out' if only to get the groans and "get a room" from the kids.

The toys have been moved to a padlocked cedar hope chest that sits in our bedroom. The kids believe it has Master's guns in it and He carries the key with Him. I don't call Him Sir or Master around them (though I have slipped a few times and hurried to cover it with a salute or a sarcastic comment, even taken to calling Him "My Lord" for shits and giggles. The kids think it's hilarious). Both of my daughters have started to take offense to the way I wait on Him and there have been a few conversations so far about that. Mostly what I stress to them is I do what I want to do, I do things to make Him happy because I love Him, the same as I do for them.

In this lifestyle, if you are living it, you take your chances with kids seeing or sensing things. And you learn to be careful and private too. My girls can no longer walk into the bathroom when I'm in the shower, I have too many scars that spell words..lol. That's not something I want to explain. The hooks in the bedroom ceiling hold a rope light in a frame around the bed, which is actually quite sexy and mood-inducing when we use it for the light. Various hooks in the basement hold Master's tools, lawn stuff, bikes, chairs, etc. The excess of rope we really DO use for other things, like tying things down in the back of Master's truck, so the kids think nothing of those things.

But prepare yourself for the possibility of being outed. It can happen no matter how careful you are.
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Lessons Shared by kaya

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 13:51:17 CDT

As anyone who reads my journal could tell you, I am far from the "perfect" slave. I slip and fumble, make mistakes, make the same one again... and again... routinely. But, tirelessly, my Master, saint that He is, never gives up on me. And over the course of time I have learned a thing or two. I thought I would share them with you... :)

1."Stop It Motherfucker!" is not a safe word. (Yes, I know it should be)

2. Scraping your teeth won't get you out of a blow job. (I was just as shocked as you!)

3. "Get it yourself" doesn't earn you any brownie points. (hey, it was worth a try)

4. "That didn't hurt", "I dare You", "You can't!" (Do I need to explain those?)

5. "Your aim sucks" will get you target practice. (with YOU as the target.)

6. Encouraging the dog to attack! when Master starts whapping you is just generally not a good idea.

7. Purposely skipping numbers during the spanking count "16, Sir".... "17, Sir"... "22, Sir" only gets you back to number one... (funny as fucking hell when they dont catch it though)

8. Which brings up... try to avoid getting the giggles when He's lecturing/spanking you.. they HATE that.

9. You really shouldn't laugh when they trip over the very rope they are trying to tie you up with either.

10. If Master says He doesn't want your finger up His ass while you suck Him... dont try to slip it in anyway.. He *really* doesn't want it in there! (I know! Go figure!)

11. You really can't scoot away from the pain of clover clamps. (or alligator clamps! Yowsers!)

12. Proving that you can pick open the cage door when you are tied up is not as impressive as you think it should be. (even when it's with your toes!)

13. Humming the "Jeopardy" theme, tapping your toes, sighing, or checking your watch while Master fiddles with a knot doesn't please Him so much.

14. Never.. ever.. under any circumstances... bend over at the waist to pick something up off the floor in front of Him. Never. (always crouch girls... bend at the KNEES)

15. Ditto that for walking up the stairs in front of Him. (its a little like dangling a pork chop bone in front of a starving dog)

16. And when He does pinch or slap your ass when you walk by or bend over... dont slap at His hand, give Him a dirty look or mumble "that hurt asshole"... or any variation similar to those. (They can be so touchy!)

17. Trying to claim that you were telling Him He was 'number one in your eyes' when you just got caught flipping Him the bird usually doesn't fly. (get it? bird? fly? hahaha)

18. Don't keep blowing out the candle. They see no humor in that.

19. When He is down on His knees adjusting your ankle cuffs, don't mention that He looks mighty fine like that and would make a sexy little bitch boy. (It's really almost worth the expression on His face though.)

20. When He asks "did that hurt, slut?" after a particularly hard swing do NOT say "DUH..here's yer sign!"

Now please.. share your lessons learned! On your blog or in the comments here... we all need support!
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Fisting (Vaginal that is) by chelgrrl

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 11:49:54 CDT

I get a lot of responses when I say to people that I love to be fisted. Of course there is the Fister, the person who does the fisting and the Fistee, the one receiving the fist. Women fistees react in a few ways when they hear the word. Some will be scared (the “eep” response that happens when one’s panties are already wet) and want to quickly change the topic. Others may state that they love it also (the “heavy sigh” response that reminisces on those times gone by). Yet others will say oh they could never do that (the “dare I want such a thing” response with mixed feelings). And then there are those who say they have tried but have never been able to be fisted (the “bad memories” response of the failed attempts to please the one who has introduced them to this activity).

Now, fisters have a variety of reactions too. Some are incredulous and say their hands are just too big and they could never do that (the “oh I can’t think about it” response for fear of getting aroused). Others are all hot and bothered by the thought of plunging their fist into a woman’s vagina for whatever internal reaction they might have (the “supreme god/dess” response that entails being all powerful). Some will admit to trying it and not being successful and others will never dare admit to their failed attempts. I think it is common that many who do not necessarily truly understand fisting will say they have never enjoyed it and don’t really add it to their battery of sexual activities.

What exactly is fisting? Well for me fisting is a type of penetration and stimulation of my vagina, my mind and my body that includes incredible sensations and a fullness that I don’t think I have ever had rivaled by anything else. Fisting for me is a slow ritual almost and a gift from the fister to the fistee of pleasure and sensations that I am allowed to immerse myself into. Fisting at times is the only thing that will fully satisfy me. To feel the orgasms build and build and to not be able to get the full release until the fist is removed from me when my dams burst and my fluids flood out of me and I am truly spent. Yes, I do orgasm during the fisting (multiple times mind you when it is well done) but there is a certain amount that my body is not allowed to do because this foreign object filling me and keeping my walls from truly pulsing to the extent needed for the final release.

Fisting for me is not about the fister even though I have fisted someone before and it is an incredible experience on that end. Fisting is about me and about the dance between me and the fister. This dance includes an energy exchange for sure. I often times wonder at anal fisting because I can see the energy exchange with an orifice that is larger than the anal sphincter and ponder what it would feel like to have the smaller opening stretched and allowing the full penetration and claiming of that part of my body as well. Fisting is a time when someone else is in full control of my body that is opening itself like a gate for the entrance of the fister’s energy and power. Maybe that is what fisters get that creates some of the difficulties in doing the act: feeling powerful, power-filled. Fisting is not fully about power or claiming ownership on another body. Fisting is about enticing and eliciting an entry into the fistee’s core being. But not to discount the fact that once patience pays off the fister certainly does get an immense power rush.

Okay enough drivel and let me get into some details on how “I” like to be fisted. I will list some tips and my experiences and see where we go from there:

1. Don’t try to ram your fist into me. It isn’t going to work – just trust me on that okay? Sure it might from time to time but why do it that way? You totally miss the dance, the ritual, the eliciting of the opening of the fistee’s body and being to you. Note: if it feels like you are pushing against a brick wall, you probably are. It typically only annoys me at that point. I don’t want to be fisted to feel pain. I want to fly when I am fisted. I want to feel spent and fulfilled. I want to have the bonding memory of the sharing that happened between me and the fister as my body sucks their hand the final little bit into my body.

Side note: This sucking of the fist into my body – OMG!!!!! It is as silly as it is amazing though. Typically at this point I can giggle like a little girl. I may start to laugh and I am sure the hand that is buried to the hilt inside of me feels those additional contractions around it and probably wears the bruises for a few days because of it. I can remember the expressions of these very special dance partners (the fisters) and how they have this rather dazed look on their face. I am never sure until that point if they have experienced it before or not no matter how much they might say they have done fisting lots of times. When it is a look of bewilderment, I typically doubt if they have done it very often. When it is a look of pure delight and no fear, I know they have been there before and they are reaping the benefits of their patience and ritual dance that we have only just begun.

2. Have patience, don’t be in such a hurry!!! There was a song that someone sang to me when I was a teenager and she just a little child. It was a new song that she had learned. It pretty much went: “Have patience, have patience, don’t be in such a hurry. When you get, impatient, you only start to worry.” Basically what this boils down to is that if you are not patient, if you do not coax the flower open slowly and thoroughly, you end up losing out and also you haven’t stopped to smell the roses along the way. Oh my, I sure am filled with clich�s today. But I really think in this case the clich�s tell valid points. And to change the ditty a bit: Have patience, don’t be in such a hurry. When you get impatient, the fistee will only start to worry (and trust me that negates the purpose of even trying to fuck her pussy with your fist). Just remember, have patience, enjoy the process and don’t focus on the end result. This leads us to point three.

3. Progress not perfection!!! Whenever we are engaged in a dance in this sexual realm where danger and desire mingle and pleasure and pain join, there are risks that we have to be aware of. Recently I became very aware of the risks and the consequences of fisting and what can happen when the dancers are not fully engaged in the process but more focused on the end result. I wanted the fister to accomplish his goal. He wanted to give me pleasure (I assume anyway) and he probably thought he was doing it correctly. I was not communicating with the fister fully because I didn’t want to tell him he was doing it wrong for me. I wasn’t enjoying it as much as I truly enjoy the long drawn out dance of the coaxing and probing and the patient walk towards the slurp of the fister’s fist into my receptive pussy. It was like I just wanted the whole fist inside of me for his gratification and for satisfaction of my service to him. To be totally honest, it was not the first time he had fisted me and when he started, I just wanted it to be over so I was letting him go through the motions and I was enjoying it to a degree but not like I enjoy fisting typically.

I should have communicated better and I will forever regret that choice and the damage that happened because of my lack of input in the process and his corresponding lack of knowledge. To keep with my dance analogy, I guess you could say that we were dancing different dances but thinking we were dancing together. He was leading and I was letting my body follow but my mind was not there. I realize looking back on it that I wasn’t even enjoying the progress and all I wanted was his actions to be perfection to him. I wanted him to accomplish his goal and that was where my pleasure came in. Believe it or not I started writing this before this fisting fiasco happened.

The fisting fiasco was a serious vaginal tear and an immense loss of blood. The consequence was a trip to the emergency room where I had to be sutured up. I lost a significant amount of blood. The consequence was me feeling that my body betrayed me. The consequence is me being afraid to have penetration of my parts. I will not go into the consequences for the fister because I cannot speak of his knowledge there. The injury was a result of a lot of missteps and miscommunication. I don’t blame him for what happened because there are two people involved in every dance. I also could not have asked for someone as attentive to me as he was in the emergency room. At the time I wasn’t too worried about the legal consequence if the ER professionals took what happened for abuse, but thinking back I wonder how much he was concerned about that. Luckily I knew enough about that possibility that I made extra effort to let it be known that the activity was mutual and cooperative and not a situation of a bad situation gone worse.

So I mentioned progress and not perfection as an important item in fisting. It isn’t about getting the whole fist into me. It is about the dance and the process of relaxing my walls to allow entry of the fister into my core. It is about the dance of pleasure and not pain. It is about the excitement that builds as 3 fingers go in and the fourth one slides in with the in and out movements and the sounds of the wet walls and the suction of the movements. It is about when the thumb is added to the 4 fingers and the hand is allowed further entry, deeper and deeper. It is about the slurp of the knuckles and the feeling of the fister never getting his/her hand back from the deep, dark, hot, wet hole that has swallowed it. It isn’t about the fist ramming into my cervix (mind you some girls cannot stand their cervix hit at all). It isn’t about even having a fist inside of me. It is about the moment when my body opens up and takes in the fister’s power and being. It is about the thrill of that moment and the ones that follow when my body is in the fister’s total control. It is about my voice and my body becoming an extension of the fister. It is about the mindlessness that I reach where it doesn’t matter what noises I make or what way my body moves. It doesn’t matter how much I am saturating the blankets or towels. It is about that space where 2 people blend into one amazing capsule. That space where time is lost and the fister is reaching into my very core and filling my whole body with their pleasure. Whew… got lost there for a bit in the passion of the memories. Let us move on.

4. Surprise you are in and now what do you do? Well at this point is where you get to run the show because I am typically so overwhelmed with feelings that all I am doing is feeling. You have some important things to consider at this point. To begin with you have a fistee who doesn’t care about much beyond the pleasure she is feeling in that moment in time. LUBE is important even if you think there is nothing ever as wet as what you are into now. Act as if you have stock in every lube company possible – Use LOTS!!! You can take it slow and steady; you can take it fast and furious. The reality though is that you are in a very delicate part of the fistee’s body and the fistee will be very deep into a dance with you where all she really cares about is the pleasure she feels in her body and the power she feels filling her with your actions.

I can only wonder what the fisters are going through at this point in time. I wonder if you are able to truly let go and enjoy the sensations and enjoy the enjoyment and freedom the fistee is feeling. But you cannot forget your responsibilities. The person being fisted probably has not a care in the world and more than likely is so overwhelmed with feelings that she may not know up from down. Each woman is different. The dancers must both be engaged in the process. But the fister is the one who has the view and can see whether there is trouble or not. I can remember leaving a fisting demo feeling empty and craving a fist in my cunt. Now I am wondering if I will ever let someone even try to fist me again. I can’t imagine sex without it though so that presents a quandary of sorts. I will continue to learn from my experiences and grow. And adding another clich�, time does heal all wounds. I sure hope this is the case.

Another thing is that if there is ever any blood, the fister has to take charge and make a decision on damage or not. I would say the event needs to stop. The situation needs to be assessed. But stopping is not pulling out immediately because as much damage can happen with that as when entering. Part of my experience taught me that when the fister is pulling out if the fistee is tensed up at all, the fister needs to stop and help the fistee relax. If the fister pulls out abruptly and the fistee’s walls are clamped around his/her fist a tear can happen. So even after multiple orgasms and the high of the dance, patience and body to body communication is important. At this point the fistee is probably pretty spent and needs a lot of direction. The fistee needs to be able to trust the fister in his/her knowledge and skill.

I think for myself it is important to say but maybe more so for me to hear that it is not a failure when the whole fist is not taken inside of the fistee’s body. It is not a blow to someone’s skill or ego if the fisting is done with only 3 or 4 fingers and no thumb. It is not a sign of my failure in the grand scheme of things. It is about the sensations and the feelings. It can get scary to be in the place where you are putting your body in someone else’s hands. It can be scary when your body is reacting and you are giving over the control to someone else. That probably sounds odd coming from a submissive but it is still a scary thing for me. I know now from the lessons of my past that communication is essential. If I don’t feel comfortable telling the person I am with what feels good and what does not, then I need to not be letting them do things that might be harmful to me. If I am worried about hurting someone’s ego by telling them what they are doing is doing nothing for me, then maybe I need to not consent to anything to start with.

Fisting is amazing and incredible. It is something to be cautious about but I don’t think it is necessary to fear it. It is not about force or pain but like so many things in BDSM, it is about the dance of energies and the intermingling desires. It is about that threshold space where 2 people are not separate and 2 bodies are not apart. I still have not been able to go back to fisting. I don’t know when it will happen. The fisting fiasco was a learning experience and it was a lesson for me to build on.

Fisting is dangerous. But it can be a safer, saner and consensual activity. Other than hands: lube, communication skills, gloves and patience are the necessary tools to move forward into the great divine. The only other factor is time.
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Fear by kaya

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 14:14:35 CDT

For Master.

When I used to say "Oh I want someone who can push me.. who doesn't stop when I say stop.. who does what they want and aren't guided by MY reactions", I can honestly say that I never believed such a person existed. I could say that and feel extreme and be edgy and all the while think in the back of my head, "of course anyone would stop when I cry or when I say "stop" and really mean it!" Nobody is strong enough or self-confident enough to REALLY push that envelope.

Except You. You surprise me with your callousness. You shock me with your sadism. Continuously. And every single time I'm taken over like it was the first time. I lack the tools, both mental and emotional, to deal with this. You aren't swayed by anything. You aren't deterred by anything. There seems to be no limit, no depth to Your meanness.

Crying begging wailing mess of flesh that I am affects you in no way at all. No noticeable way to me. I am doing my god damnedest to disgust you... to irritate you... to MAKE you back off and put me back in some semblance of control...and You wont. You don't budge. You blow off every little pathetic curveball I throw at you.

That knowledge is a huge fucking scary bite to swallow. The road ahead....the one that I mistakenly thought I would lead YOU on.... I fight the urge to piss myself when I try to imagine at this point, where you CAN and WILL take this. It's pure fear.

Thats only one side of the fear equation.

I keep questioning if you know what you are doing. And that encompasses so many things. How you are affecting me, my thought process, my reactions to every day stimuli, my emotional and mental well-being. As we get deeper and deeper into this.. and the way back gets harder for me to hang onto, the more insecure I get. I do not, cannot, accept that you will want what you are creating. I can see myself turning into a pile of mush. That's what you want? Obedience and availability? Is that all? You are systematically knocking down my walls... and whats going to be left doesn't look very pretty to me. I just need to know that you are aware of this. That you've thought it through. Because what happens when we get to the end.....and you don't like it....and I cant come back?

Being left scares me. Not just being left alone.. but I'll be left broken. And by that point, I'll have looked to you for every single aspect of my existence and if you leave me then... I'll die. Very simply.

More fear.

The worst might be the despair....... you get to a place inside yourself where I cannot please you. No matter what I do. Even when I sink into "Idiot Mode" (you called it)........ that yes sir no sir and nothing else... I am not pleasing you. I know that I cant. I know that I wont. Its despair. Its defeat. It's ......I give up.... it's just try to hold on until the end because it sure as fuck isn't going to get any better. I don't know what triggers that in you. I don't know if I can avoid it or not. It doesn't seem like it.

I used to dislike those times.

Now those times.. those pushes are the ones that I find myself craving the most. Being consumed with utter hopelessness.. of knowing, believing, breathing how completely unable I will be to satisfy the beast in You... watching as it overwhelms You, and bleeds over onto me. And I'll take it. Blow by blow, word by word, tear by tear.. knowing that You won't be sated. My efforts will be in vain. My sobbing, begging, pleading desires to please You will go unanswered, unrealized.

It's a fascinating process to watch You lose Yourself to Your own sadism. And when I can process the pain and the emotions far enough to be capable of coherent thought again, and see You.. inside of You.. and watch how You leash it and control it and give it to me in doses that I can handle, doses that feel huge and unbearable and heavy to me but in comparison to the whole that You are holding, I'm being fed baby bites of You. And I'm left hungering for more.

I may never be able to carry the whole of Your sadistic desires. I may never be strong enough. But I think each time I take a bigger bite... and each time I hold a little more fear... and each time I swallow a little more pain... close my eyes and live it, letting it take over me so You can breathe a little easier.

I can see the strain on Your face, hear it in Your voice. I feel the need inside of You. It carries over to me... caresses my skin.. I know it's coming. You'll need me, you'll need my screams and my tears, you'll need to make room. And fear races up my spine, goosebumps following close behind, my nipples harden, my cunt clenches and drips.. because right on the heels of the fear is desire and need and purpose. My purpose. My goal. My meaning.

To hold the hand of Your beast.

So many emotions swamping me with the thought of you coming home. Fear is the biggest. Fear of the pain, of not being able to handle the pain, of not being allowed to relieve You of that burden in the small way that I can. Fearing you'll give me too much since it's been so long.

Mostly though.. fearing that You *won't*. That time and opportunity won't allow such a heavy session and You'll return to work still heavy with Your burden and I'll be left here, needy and swallowing my fear until the next time.

I hope I always fear You. I hope You always keep me one step away from being comfortable and complacent. I hope my fear forever remains one of my strongest driving forces for trying my hardest to please You. I hope You keep Your saddled beast just under the surface, where it's easy to give me a bite and make me scream.

I live in fear. And it's amazing.
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Lessons Learned by kaya

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 12:16:02 CDT

Thoughts on Isolation by kaya

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 12:14:47 CDT

I live a fairly isolated lifestyle. I suppose in comparison to some people, you could say that I live an extremely isolated life. It's not unusual for me to go days on end without ever leaving the house. I don't answer the door, I don't answer the phone. I see the things that make me leave the house or interact with other people as interfering. Annoying. They make me angry.

I'm perfectly content to interact exclusively with Master and the kids. And some days, the kids are pushing me. (please spare me the mommy guilt this time, ok?)

The more isolated I am, the more isolated I want to be. The more I rely on Master to satisfy any needs I have, the less I want anyone or anything to interfere with that. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that Master is my sun and moon.

Master planned it this way. The isolation forces all of my attention on to Him. And once I lost the compare and contrast effects of society... once the only person who's opinion mattered to me became Him... once competition became a thing of the past...

He became my God.

My days are simple. I have one objective. One goal. One reason. To Please Master

And I do, I think, pretty consistently.

I came across this the other day, from Shabkar, Tibetan Buddhist Hermit. And yes I know I'm not a Tibetan Monk, so just cut me some slack here.
The ten benefits of living in isolation:

1. One's activities will be fewer.

I have very few activities outside of His needs. I clean His house, do His laundry, cook His meals, even take care of His dog. I attend to His sexual desires, His preferences. In all things. You could say my ONE activity is... Him.

2. One will be far removed from noise and distractions.

There is very little that distracts me from Him. What He wants,needs,desires circles in my head all day long. I don't have to stop thinking about Him for any length of time, for any reason. I have no work issues, no financial issues, no prior commitments, no schedules. Every thing I do, every single thing, is done with Him in mind.

3. One will be free from quarrels.

We have nothing to fight about. Occasionally, I'll get in a snit over the kids, though that happens less and less. Of course I have opinions, but as time marches on, my opinions get closer and closer to His. My thinking is in tune with His... and the very nature of being an object lessens my propensity to be a free-thinking individual anyway.

4. One will be free from harm.

I am free from harm... except what He causes me...:) More importantly though, I'm free from societies harm. I'm free from emotional harm. I'm free from judging and being judged by strangers. I'm free to be who I am, every second of every day.

5. One will not let obscuring emotions increase.

My emotions are controlled. How emotional can one be over housework anyway? My emotions might as well be labeled on a control board, with Master pressing the buttons. He's only to look, or speak or even to stand a certain way... and I react, like a well trained puppet.

6. One will not create causes for discord.

My daily/hourly/minutely objective is to please Him. I am not purposely causing Him any discord. There is absolutely no benefit in that.

7. One will always enjoy perfect tranquility.

"Perfect" tranquility might be pushing it a little but it's coming. I do have a very tranquil life, and in turn, so does Master. We do not thrive on drama. He doesn't allow me to have hysterics, or temper tantrums. And as more and more of my will evaporates, and more and more of His desires become my own, there is less reason to even raise an eyebrow, let alone voices.

8. One will keep one's body, speech, and mind under control.

My thoughts, my actions, my speech, and my body are all being shaped and molded. He is making me exactly what He wants me to be.

9. One will live in a way that is conducive to liberation, and
10. One will quickly reach complete freedom.

The last two... liberation and freedom. It would seem at first glance that I'm moving farther away from freedom or liberation as I move closer to being locked in a cage. But my own personal freedom, to be what I am.. to live it.. to embrace His domination... that's liberating. Free to wallow in our own depravities.

And this quote:
"Solitary places allow even vulnerable beginners to foster their progress without hindrance."

In keeping me isolated, Master is protecting me from nay-sayers. From doubt and negativity. If the only seed planted in my mind is His, how can it do anything but grow? He encourages and guides me... us... constant and unwavering persistence to cunt in a cage.

I find that the fear is lessening. The anticipation is growing.

The isolation is expected to increase as my responsibilities to my children decrease. I can only guess that the effects will continue to rise, hopefully in a beneficial way. I don't think that I'll become a zombie, or a doormat or an empty shell. I DO think that I will become hyper-sensitive to His moods and thoughts... and extra-attentive to satisfying and pleasing the one person I have contact with.

Just imagine... how utterly strong my desire to please Him will be when I've spent 2 or 3 days locked in a cage with absolutely no other stimulation. How badly will I want His approval? How hard will I try to take what He dishes out? How completely devoted will I be to my God?

We are so close.

Once upon a time I wanted a Get Out of Jail Free card. Now I want a Fast Forward button.

I'm not finding that isolation increases patience whatsoever.
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The Punishment Place by kaya

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 11:56:16 CDT

Sometimes I get punished for not following a rule, doing something I know I'm not supposed to or vice versa. Those punishments seem perfunctory. It's an integral part of our lifestyle, this discipline and punishment. Maybe just to keep the roles we each live clearly defined. I don't respond the same way to these punishments as I do to when I really fuck up big. It's not even on the same plane.

I don't fuck up on purpose, not these big mistakes. I do at times ignore rules, test the boundaries. I suppose to make sure that Master hasn't forgotten His role? I'm not sure what my motivation is really, but I know that I need to do that less and less often. But that's another entry.

Maybe the reason I react so strongly to being punished is because the mistake was truly just that, a mistake. My intentions, my motives don't seem to matter. I am human, I will fail. I feel like I am being punished for that alone.

Yet, I can recognize the value of having such strictness. Because I don't ever have to question His motives, I am very secure in my place as His. I know, without doubt, that He strives to make me perfect for Him, that His reactions to my behavior are for His benefit, and therefore, my benefit. That is comforting.

The punishment place is not an actual place. It's a place in my mind, a place I go to when confronted with His anger and disappointment. A place where I work through all the emotions. The punishment itself doesn't factor in at all. I'm in the same place in my head whether I am sent off somewhere and ignored, or whipped to tears. And traveling the road back is hard.

It doesn't seem to matter that Master reassures me repeatedly, that the punishment is over, that He still loves me, that I am still His 'good girl'. I don't feel it. Not until I come out of that place. Only when I feel like I am back home can I accept His forgiveness, His affection and feel worthy of looking Him in the eye once again.

There are very definite stages to coming back from there. I am angry initially, at Him. For not being more accepting of my humanity. I glare and argue, defend myself and try to blame everything but me. Then I get depressed and vow to never ever try to please Him again because my efforts are completely unappreciated. I doubt my value as a slave, my self-worth. I question why He would want me, when I make Him so disappointed.

Once I have made it through all that, I can look at the fuck up with open eyes. I can recognize just where my mistake was, I can talk about how to remedy it or how to avoid repeating it. I can see what Master saw in the first place. And only then can I start making my way back. This can take days sometimes, this process.

There is value to such self-examination, as hard as it may be at the time. Accepting that my behavior is a direct reflection on Him, that my thoughts and actions need first to be scrutinized, on my own, for what I know He expects of me. I will fail again, I'm sure. And I will be back in that place. And I am grateful for that. I'm a better slave every time I come home.
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