Talking About BDSM With Your Therapist

Talking about BDSM with your therapist --- Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis
— Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis

This is not an advice post, it’s a sharing post, partially just to make sense of my recent experiences. I’m dealing with a generalized anxiety disorder, and have been for a long time. Some of this is hereditary, some of this is situational damage from some less than idyllic life experiences. As a result of this, I actively pursue things that help make me mentally healthy and one of them is therapy.

Being kinky while getting help from medical professionals, particularly mental health professionals, is an experience that can go many ways- some are well educated on the subject, some open minded but clueless, some have trouble not seeing it as a pathological hangup or a part of your overarching health issue. One of the biggest problems with coming out to your therapist is that you often have to engage in BDSM 101, walking your professional through what your kink is, and how that fits into your life choices. Human sexuality is a poorly understood field of psychology, one where we only discovered the internal structure of the female clitoris in this century (wtf guys), and pop psych writers leap on and working hypothesis and try to cram it as hard as possible through the filter of cultural bias. Thus, even at the best of times, your therapist may have picked up some odd ideas. Sometimes I feel like we’re way overdue for some sort of established manual of care for the kinky to distribute or something.

In theory you could dance around the subject matter and not disclose, but when you are for example, discussing healthy relationships, keeping it in the abstract and carefully curating your description of your life is a challenge, if you want to make meaningful progress. You don’t get a vacation from your problem in the kinky parts of your life, and as they are often some of the most precious and special things to you, it’s likely that you will have to say “Oh, btw- I’m kinky!” at some point.

In my situation, I also really hate that, as a person who has dealt with abuse, it’s an all to often automatic assumption that your kinks are related in some way. All to often abuse survivors into BDSM have people attribute that kink is the filter by which you are experiencing what would otherwise be “normal” (vanilla) sexuality. For me, my kinks pre-date my experiences with abuse, and on the contrariwise to the idea of association and imprinting, there’s a whole cluster of things like incest/age play that are personally NONONONO hard limits precisely because they are too close to bad memories, but at the same time I perform plenty of ostensibly vanilla (I’d like to think of them as ‘kink neutral’) things within the spectrum of my sexual behaviour. To be clear about what I’m into: I want to be a dread empress and play no-pants cops and robbers, not do some sort of catharsis in the bedroom. Hell, my abusive ex had loads of submissive fantasies- wanting to be tied up and fisted by ‘force’ does not preclude you being a belittling rage machine. Dealing with the aftermath child abuse does not mean you use BDSM to relive it or protect yourself from reminders of it by being weird, like the god awful sister myth that rape turns a woman into a lesbian.

And, when you establish that BDSM is not a coping mechanism you need to be rescued from, then there’s the fun of sorting out sexual orientation VS crazy. I’m a dominant, which means I get emotional warm and fuzzies from control. I’m also anxious, which means that my personal brand of cray-cray likes things in control, clearly explained, etc… Oops. You can see the possibility of hard to express boundaries. Now, try talking about your feelings with someone that you had to explain kink to in the first place, who is specifically applying a professional outsider perspective for the purpose of recovery. Having to spend time arguing “no, that particular thing is healthy, it’s this particular thing that causes me distress” is a waste of time you could spent in recovery.

Extending that point, and the problem of people treating it like a comping mechanism, being kinky with an emotional issue that influences how you interact with the environment also means it’s very easy for therapists to conflate the two. I don’t doubt this is not helped by the cliches of “blah, blah, Alpha in real life but I like to give up control sometimes”.  Being dominant and discussing being a control freak is hard, and it can be very identity traumatic to have to wrangle the assumption that you are just bent this way because of your unhealthy mind patterns. Of course I could choose to simply disregard any kink related advice or iput.

But the reality is that my GAD gets in the way. It makes me less brave about new experiences, less able to enjoy D/s and to be honest, unhealthily closed off from trusting partners. Being a dominant, while relatively physically safe, is emotionally vulnerable because you are counting on a person to be extremely responsive to your needs. It’s actually really hard to relax and enjoy the service when there’s a little voice yammering away about how you need to be prepared for a crisis. It also certainly kills my artistic career, as my confidence erodes, projects go unfinished, emails unsent, and so on. Oh, the things I could accomplish if I wasn’t wasting mental energy on splah! Proper care means getting care for everything.

Letting go and being better means trusting subs to be able to make me feel dominant. It means opening myself up to my kinks instead of assuming people just can’t handle it. It also means anxiety around my public image because there’s a third myth that dominants need to wrestle with, the Teflon True Dom. That’s the one where you are immune to bad shit because you are dominant, like some sort of sexual Calvinism where the universe shows its love for you by making people in a non-kink context stand out of your path and for you to be completely emotionally self sufficient.

But I’m not, and no dom ever is. Outside the most self deluded inbox spammer or dominatrix marketing copy, we’re made of the same stuff that subs, switches and vanillas are build from, fallible meat. and although it sucks to be vulnerable, if you’re dealing with some sort of health problem, you need to look after yourself. And care for yourself takes to courage to open up.

And, In the end though, horror stories or not, kink is so common that you shouldn’t be too terrified of talking about BDSM with your therapist. It’s statistically probable your therapist is kinky in their personal life too, after all.

A Little Bit of Simple, Easy Femdom Sex

Our houseguest, my brother, was away for a date netflix and chill hanging out as friends, I had some time to spend with Wildcard without fear of noise or naughty revelations. It’s not to say we aren’t aware that we don’t mutually have sexuality but ew,ew, ew, ew…

Because of this limitation, the last time Wildcard and I snuck in some fun was the previous Tuesday, when I gagged him with black bondage tape and cruelly teased him until he was screaming, silently, into his gag, his whole body thrashing under me.

This time, he began to masturbate, next to me in the bed, watching bootlegged videos of squeaky voiced, creamy-pale redheads put through their paces in rope and under various impact toys. He almost always watches M/f or F/f, though he’ll read any sort of hetero or lesbian story set. It’s not even a switch thing, I know many male subs who are happily cis identified, but avoid F/m videos like the plague.

It’s not an un-regular occurrence- I don’t feel that it competes with me to watch porn, or disrespects me to take his cock out and play with it, even without explicitly involving me. If I were a stereotypical femdom, and this were one of the stories he’s been reading lately, he’d be locked tight in steel or plastic and only look at its poor, pinched and squished body sadly, while it strained to break out of the cage. Instead, this is real life, so there he was: cheeky, bold and rampant.

It works for us because he’s not a person who usually gets persistent arousal- without constant stimulus of some kind, denial turns into “okay, naps now!” So instead my rule is whenever the passing fancy to play shows up, to enjoy it. I like him erect, this way I always get what I want, and it makes me purringly happy to watch him get hard. His penis is definitely a grower not a shower, going from neat and balanced, to a swollen thick cylinder with a wide head, long without looking like a grotesque projection, just the right kind of filling.

This time one can’t blame him for his urges. I started it, coming only minutes before with my hand down the white cotton of my panties. I’d been cruising for filthy stories on my phone- the edge pushing, violent, rough, degrading kind. A bit before, after all, I’d been getting all flushed and bothered at a movie scene where someone was icing their knuckles after laying down a beating because I am a truly twisted lady when it comes to my sexuality. So his little display had been a natural progression: me coming, him watching, and now him working himself into a massive erection with his weekend shorts tugged down his thighs and his tshirt riding up to his chest

I let him think I wasn’t interested- I never like being taken for granted. Can’t have beloved thinking that magnificent cock of his is as magnetic as it really is- he might get a swelled ego to go with his erection, and besides, dominance  for your own sake is in the little bits of power grabbed in harmless places, feeling puffed with the ability to take things entirely on my own terms.

And take him I did. After a quick tour of the kitchen- washing myself from my hands before packing up the diner leftovers – I was back, taking away his laptop and the view of the cute little wriggling sub actress and trapping his hands over his head. I straddled him, crotch pinning his cock between his belly and the warm, soft cotton gusset of my panties.

Today it was a tiny, bikini cut pair with little black bows just under my hips bones, cute, no less perfect for pressing and grinding, while making smug eye contact. I was still feeling the lingering warmth of my orgasm, but the aggressive urge was still there, holding him down and controlling him utterly. If he wanted to come he needed to submit to me. That’s easy femdom, no need to lace up into thigh high boots or break out the ropes, D/s without props.

I could feel the fabric of his shorts and the comfortable slimness of his hips, the push back of my hands on his that made a tension between us, resistance that only further acknowledged who was on top.

I liked how forceful it made me feel, and the way he made little moans at every push until his white cum spurted between us on the flat surface of his belly, and into the softness of the hair there. I love how feminine yet strong it made me feel, sexy and enjoying his eagerness to have control wrenched from him. I didn’t have to ask, I just took the laptop away and replaced it with my straddling body.

I’m still a little turned on from the experience and looking forward to round 2.

#FemdomLife Update: My Friend Got Married, Male Burlesque, Attack of the Vanilla

Updates are more than a little slow lately, blame a friend getting married, a massive head cold and then a family visit.

I will share that we had the most gorgeous male burlesque dancer at the bachelorette. Miss Castle, on her way to becoming Mrs. Wolf-Castle,  is did all the traditions on her way to the altar, and we had a room full of women in good spirits, a belly dancing instructor and a double dose of burlesque, with Honeysuckle Pussywillow and Tristan Ginger. Miss Pussywillow was purringly perfect with her drunken disrobing act, all curves and carnival costume, but I mention Tristan because the male as sex object is an undeserved thing.

It was nice to be among that much raw female libido as Tristan stripped for us, not once, but twice. Although gender bending men is not my kink and his costume mixed masculine and feminine elements (corsets, leather jackets), he had a glorious body, which was oggled and approved of at full volume. Sub men take note, before you send me a “train me to serve dom women plz” message, start by maximizing your appearance. It simply can’t hurt.

Anyway when I wasn’t admiring the lovely dick cleavage above his c-string, marked by glorius red curls and a perfect V shape (I need to get laaaaaaid, guys), I was busy with slightly silly party games about the bride to be. It was a pretty awesome event all around, and even if it wasn’t explicitly kinky, it was a celebration of female sexuality.

The Maid of Honour, Lady Cobra, had her charming Scottish Mail Order Husband there, and somehow her ended up sans shirt in a tuxudo apron. The enthusiasm was very vocal as we threatened to strip him of more. Because nothing is more aggressive than a room full of tipsy women there to be naughty.  Hmmmmmm, who says women don’t love being domly? 😉

Meanwhile the wedding itself went off with more or less no hitches, and I’m extremely happy for the couple.  The bride, for my role in her wedding (I was official wedding bitch), gave me a scent charm necklace so beautiful I got teary eyed and smooched her. Eeeeeeee!

Of course I spent the whole thing sick with the mother of all head colds, and Wildcard and I seem to have decided the middle of wedding planning for other people was time to Unpack All The Difficult Conversations. Waaaaugh. After surviving this, I had about a week to recover before my brother hit Montreal.

Love that kid to death, but obviously the sexy updates are going to squeeze to a crawl while he’s here for two weeks. Our apartment is a bit less sound proofed than I’d like, and although a bondage tape gag has made our regular #punishTuesday possible, getting the sex in takes overcoming some challenges, much less sharing it.

 

Oh by the way, it’s blogging list season, so here’s a polite reminder to give me a vote. Just click the big “vote” button on my directory page!

 

Interviewed by Dr. Sue Storm – #FemdomPodcast

So right now my social media is beeping every half hour with promotional tweets about an awesome interview I did with Dr. Sue Storm, femdom, blogger and podcaster extraordinaire.She a very visible voice in the online kink community, so getting a chance to be in her show was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. And that is how I ended up on “In Bed With Dr. Sue” Click the link, hear me talk! 

One of the (many) things I like about Dr. Sue Storm is that she is pretty tireless in her desire to talk about femdom, not just as a thing that gets men off but that women want for its own sake. She reached out to me because she’s doing an author interview series to help get indie erotica get noticed and she remembered me from that time I was a snarky grump in the comment section of her blog. That’s the *other* thing I like about her, she takes different opinions under consideration and you know she’s smart enough if you can get her to agree with you, it’s really flattering.

She wanted me to talk about my book, “The Pet Gentleman” and spill my naughty secrets of whether this author lives the kinky dream. Well, you readers know I like nothing more than to torment a pretty man unspeakably (and I so owe you guys an update on how that facet of my life is going!), but I also talked a little bit about what I was doing at the same time I wrote my first sexy, sometimes shocking novel. That puts my in the company of some other great authors who’ve been featured on her show, including Laura Antoniou. eeeee

The interview was a great chance to toot my own horn, and she’s an absolute joy to work with. Please do go have a listen, and check out some of her other episodes of her show.

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#Service4Pearl: Candidates And Tea Interviews

Outside of a few “oh dear god!” offers, and a few people who were on slightly the wrong page (looking for naked service more so than obedient service) but were not bad for wanting something different, three people who responded to my ad have stuck around enough to consider them as possibles.

I’ll be explicit about my expectations, I am looking for a unicorn scenario- a man or woman I can be friends with who wants as close as exactly what I want without requiring much in the way of compromise, but is also not looking for an intimate relationship. Needless to say there wasn’t much in the way of female identified interest to my ad, but that’s okay. I am happy to look within my social group for a lady who thinks wearing a frilly maid costume is her idea of a good time.

Qualifications That Matter Include:

  • Playful and imaginative
  • Does not sincerely believe in FemSup or “Always On” BDSM, where the Dom really is better the sub.
  • Actually into what I want and not putting up with this to get a dom, any dom
  • Will get along with everyone else (Wildcard, friends)
  • Fits into my surprisingly busy life

I screened people by asking them about their expectations- people who were strongly fixated on the obviously sexual aspects of service were gently dissuaded/politely rejected, while I talked back and forth with people who seemed more on the same page. I was also careful of people who redirected “What do you want?” back to “Whatever Miss wants!”, because contrary to it making them seem extra submissive, it hints that the person isn’t really sure about their needs.

That left me with three guys, listed in no particular order.

Catbus is so named because of a typo, cat for car, giving us a running joke about his favourite means of transportation. He’s the only one I met in person, but he’s very shy. I feel like he’s cool, but anything is going to take him getting a chance to warm up. However he’s a creative type and I bet he’d integrate well into our larger social circle. He is mostly hampered from his BDSM explorations by an evening job that inverts his social life into being a lost morning person.

We met up on a little tea place near McGill, which had the advantage of being open at all hours, tasty and away from either of our residences or work places while easy to find. I had a salted caramel cupcake and a vanilla bourbon rooibos. Numbers were exchanged, though he’s very hard to read because of the aforementioned shyness.

Classic is significantly older, and does not live in Montreal proper. He seems perfectly balanced about it, but is only in town to care for his elderly parents. We may have an issue purely based on scheduling, even before discovering if we have any degree of play compatibility. I’m also not 100% sure he is not in fact married and leaving that detail off the table, a fact that is a problem only in the sense that I don’t want to be up in someone else’s unhealthy dynamic.

Excellent potential to be my own personal Carson, one supposes.

Shoez is a foot fetishist sub, which is not uncommon. He does seem okay with the idea of not putting his mouth on my feet, and might be workable as a boot black boy, sock darner and underfootman (heh) based on how he expresses himself. However he’s very into superfluous capitalizations, so we’ll see if he can stop referring to me as “You”, which doesn’t doesn’t sound respectful to me but like someone’s all “Oh. It’s YOU.” with that sort of careful enunciation that ends with “I said GOOD DAY!”.

We’ll see if he can drop the superfluous fet speak or if it is too engrained in his desires to be purged, and whether this will end with drooly pumps.

Meanwhile of course Gentleman is contemplating setting up some sort of duplex for an upstairs/downstairs kitty maids residence scenario. Would that be living in a cat house or a cat shelter?

 

First Orgasm

Let me tell you about coming for the first time. Not for the first, first way back when I was twelve and my sexuality meant breaking the law, sneaking online BDSM comics I wasn’t allowed to have, and discovering my precocious side with the same hopefulness I stuffed my training bra with. I mean coming for the first time with him, with another person bringing my body there.

It was new, and beautiful and vulnerable, over in an instant as I rock on the hard muscle of his thigh and my clit brushes the buzzing hitachi. The whole thing was unexpected- he decided to make me happy and I’d done this before, humping his leg with me on top, ever the aggressor in our relationship, and he had put your hand on the small of my back and took over the motion so the whole of his leg became my sex toy, adding the convenience of a vibrator at the bottom of the slope I was sliding up and down. And the feeling kept building and building and I thought that it would be like usual and I’d get too sensitive or roll off and frig myself into a quick orgasm. But I didn’t.

This time I just let it go back and forth, being in the moment and the feeling the push on all the sensitive spots on my body until I was making incoherent noises and I’d passed the point of no return, and there it was, one perfect moment.

He thought I was offended after, by my reaction, but I was shocked. When you are resigned, your whole long life to not care one bit that nobody can get you off, your sexuality becomes an intensely personal thing and the whole of what you can do with other people is in the same sort of category of reading a porn story you’re touching yourself to.

Suddenly I had to reassess all my carefully constructed patience, and stop pretending I wasn’t deeply disappointed nobody could get me off. Let that me a lesson to you, dear reader, that even the sort of person everyone treats like some sort of sex guru can cling to her illusions. No more being cool and modern and free, suddenly if I’m not getting off it’s not my fault anymore. Because there’s a someone else who can.

When you learn about sex, they teach you about the concept of virginity. I was as precocious about that formal threshold as I was about my own orgasms, landing on the first boy I could get to hold still for long enough. And I was deeply disappointed, not with the loss of something precious but that all I felt was slightly poked on the inside of my vagina. I feel like a person who loses their virginity was supposed to feel.

This feels like something lost and something gained, something learned and something very different than coming all by myself. It wasn’t even the most intense and spectacular orgasm that I’ve ever had, but it was shared.

I left a wet circle of myself on his pants.

#Service4Pearl: Worst Response To Ad So Far

The inbox responses came in at a steady trickle, and alongside a few awesome guys, a few fine but not a good match guys, there’s always a few that just make you shake your head.

I don’t need to tell you “don’t be that guy”, if you are reading this you are generally able to understand why that guy is stupid and obnoxious. This is being shared purely because it’s the usual almost entirely out of left field, completely absurd weirdness that shows up in our inbox from time to time has the saving grace that it’s often so weird as to be funny.

Hi Amazing Lady !
Did you find your perfect sub/slave/toys?
you are truly an dream! I wish I can meet a woman as hot as you!
I’m sur you deserve to be serve and licked for hour and hour all over your amazing body!
I realy liked your profile and what you wrote !
You also have a nice fetishes list 🙂
Do you know anything about cuckolding?
Is this someting that may interess you ?
I’m pretty sur you can be an AMAZING Hotwife/cuckoldress!!!!
At least i would to talk about this with you if ever you don’t mind miss ?
Are you open to a real LTR ?
Would be a dream to have a real lady as you in my life wow So hot !
You realy seem to be very open minded and very amazing and so hot!

By example Would you love to see me going shopping for you/with you in the day, buying you sexy nice dress, shoes, accessories, cream, perfum, jewellery, everything to make even more appealing to men, and after when we got home, would you love I give you a bath, take care of your hair, cream all your amazing body, give you a long massage, put on you perfum, help you do your nails, warm you and your nice pussy with my mouth, help you to get dressed and drive you to one of yours lover and then go back home to do the home task, while waiting for your call to bring you back home, and maybe at 3 or 4 in the morning you will call me to say “Don’t wait for me sweetie Eric, I won’t go back home tonight, I will sleep to my lovers house, I will call you back tommorow at noon for you to come and pick me up.” All of this withou you asking for permission but only to le me know. then when you get back home you will ask me to please you another time by licking you to clean your pussy with my tongue from your nice creampie that your lover will have left Inside you, while you will told me everthing about your wonderfull night. then once you get your own pleasur, you will say “Thanks Eric” then you will sleep to rest yourself without having to give me back anything at all and until maybe your start back at evening. 🙂
Is this something you may like?
Is this something you may be able to do also ?

And just to prouve to you how much i really want this kind of Relationship and How much you can expect from me my full devotion to your pleasur and to prouve yourself that Only your pleasur will always count for me

So if you were telling me that you want to be completely exclusive to your lover/bulls and never ever let me penetrate you and this from the start thne I would accept it!!!
So if you where the kind of girl to tell me on our wedding night “Listen Eric, it’s official now, you never ever penetrate me up to know and you would never ever!
and you show me a new tatoo near by your amazing pussy!
A tatoo that say “VIP Only, Husband forbideen!!!”

That tatoo will not only remember to me each time i go down on you that i will never ever know the feeling and the pleasur to be Inside you while any other men can, but will also make Lucky all your lover and bull knowing they can fuck you but even your husband can’t!

What do you think about this?
Is in it a very good proof?
Would you like it or even require it from me ?

Please let me know
Hope to read more form you very soon
Thanks
[REDACTED]

Dear Idiot:

I’m in a relationship already, and this references nothing I mentioned in my ad. Also in the unlikely event I get a tattoo, I’d like to think it would be spelled properly.

Sincerely,

~MP

#Service4Pearl: In Which I Post An Ad For A Service Sub

So I’ve decided to explore service as a kink.

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Specifically, I’ve been thinking about a fussy kind of valet/maid scenario, more Downton Abbey than anything more explicitly fetish. Wildcard is not a service submissive, being more of a bedroom sub, or as I often put it, strictly decorative. So, after discussing the matter with him and giving it more thought than is probably even reasonable, I composed and ad and posted it up on fetlife.

I’m looking more for a shorter term arrangement, and not a secondary relationship- basically a friend who wants to experiment and not a full time sub. I have a very clear picture in my mind of what I want, and a long list of things I don’t like.

There’s a lot to unpack in this for me. In the first place, as much as I don’t mind and even enjoy Wildcard’s extracurricular activities, the idea of sharing him with him having a full time sub makes me feel slightly distressed, so similarly I don’t think it’s a good place to try to run a concurrent relationship even if he’d tolerate imbalance. On that, I worry that I’ll be offering possible people a bad deal because I can only offer a limited amount of myself.

But it might be enough, so why not try it anyway?

Before setting out on this I tried to do a lot of research particularly with Tilari, of “How Not To Suck A Service Submission“, an expert on the subject matter, and she was kind enough to tell me a bit about what makes up a good ad, and a good request. She suggested that a good thing to aim for would be to be very clear about my guidelines and what I was looking for. That means down to laying out the kind of tasks I was interested in and my expectations instead of just referencing a “service sub”.

I think this is pretty reasonable- and it also meant a good excuse to talk about what I expected to give back in explicit terms, as well as to address the sort of trade for the “exchange” part of the power exchange. For me, I find the idea of acting like a dominatrix sterotype gross, but I see the sub’s fulfillment as essential to a healthy relationship.

I’m not looking for a naked house cleaner, but neither did I want to assume that me being a dom should be enough.

You’ll see the ad I created, after the jump…

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30 Days of Kink: The Penultimate Post

30 Days of Kink (in this case several days crammed into a post ‘cuz this isn’t tumblr) is drawing to a close. The last challenge is to pick your own topic, but this time they asked another question about my identity.

Day 28: How do you dress for kink/BDSM play?  What significance does your attire have to you?

99% of my “play” is a slightly kinked up version couple sex where I give him a hand job, and I’m wearing nothing, or whatever lounge wear I’d like. in a better organized world I’d be in scintillating lingerie, but sex tends to have a very broad unscheduled aspect. Particularly to Wildcard, who requires a certain degree of spontaneous, where Punish Tuesdays are as planned as it gets.

I like looking sexually desirable. I buy nice panties and stockings. I have a whole wardrobe of cocktail dresses and cheap heels, the latter the kind that cost less than $25 at chain stores which also sell hair clips to teenage girls and six packs of earrings. I like attention, assuming its polite and makes me feel like I’m in control. I find the constriction of corseting pleasant.

My female protagonists are fussy dressers, and I myself don’t like blindly throwing clothes onto my body. I see clothes as a visual medium for communication and like having the ability to express myself exactly how I want.

As far as the “Mistress” look, I’m more likely to throw together a feigned fetish costume than go all out- pleather booty shorts from another cheap mall chain that does a lot of club wear, bikini top from AA, knee high boots from that selfsame cheap accessory store. That’s about as far as it gets- I don’t own any latex or full leather- the cost being astronomical. Of course, given my druthers and infinite budget I’d probably aim more for dread Empress than dominatrix.

Day 29: Do you have a BDSM title (e.g. mistress, master, slut, pig, whore, princess, goddess, ma’am, sir)?  What is your opinion of the use of titles in general?

MISS! My title is something I like, but you are no obligation to use it unless we have a consenting BDSM dynamic. Pearl is fine otherwise, or Miss Pearl for branding recognition purposes. If I know you in real life I’m happy with my real name.

Asking I call you a title when I’m not in a dynamic with you is a little odd. That being said I get a little thrill from overly formal fussiness and I generally don’t think about someone whose handle is LordButt being called Lord and not just Butt. However I’m weirded out if SlaveButt insists he has to call me and all the other women Mistress or something, even if his dom told him to.

For my last post, I’m opening myself up to questions you are curious about and want answers to. So, folks, what’ll it be?

Real Life Again & Emotional Health

As mentioned, I’ve just come back from an Alaskan cruise, a family thing that was well appreciated but kept me away all last week. Despite the ability to create your own event (LGBT, friends of Bill W.) I resisted the urge to organize a floating munch. Wildcard insisted on using banked time to drive me to the airport and picking me up after. He brought my much beloved but bedraggled teddy bear to meet me by way of greeting. I spent the time working on me, with exercise and yoga and trying to meditate beside the pool and getting to know my largely absent father.

Wildcard had a crap time in my absence. Probably because I left him my summer cold for his already weakened immune system to wrangle, but also because he’s rather attached to his regular supply of snuggles. While I was away, he played with “Princess”. She ended the session in a crying mini panic attack not because he was hurting her, but because of his desire to know about what she wanted. Faced with the possibility of her own happiness, a yawning, overwhelming sense of inadequacy and failure took her out at the back of the knees. He comforted her, but she remained embarrassed Telling him “You and Pearl are so effortlessly cool and together, she feels so stupid losing it!”

He laughed, this is hardly unfamiliar territory for him… Or me. We often accidentally give the impression that we have a sort of infinite reserve of poise- its not unusual for people to confess how dominant and unassailable I seem, but the reality is a lot more mundane, from giggles and skip-hopping about to wallowing in insecurity. This is not unusual; my kinky friends are no more or less nuts than my vanilla ones, which is to say a good measure of both camps have doctors fine tuning our brain chemicals via a daily dose, while a bunch more really should be being looked after properly. We make do.

Last summer shit got nasty for me: food became inedible- I was unemployed, in the best shape of my life from trying to run my feelings off, and absolutely miserable. I took it as responsibly as I could, to a doctor to deal with to triage the immense and inexplicable pain I was feeling. Citalopram and therapy helped, definitely more so than the exercise had.

I’m upright again, a little plumper and better centred, and also employed, the latter most important in the unrelenting world of adult bills. Feeding you guy’s desire to read my stuff ain’t cheap.Trying to sum that up got me thinking- I feel like one of the big challenges is that the mundane of (kinky) life tends to get lost in making a narrative. You hear about me playing with Wildcard- not so much the sex dead week where one of us feels like the idea of anything other than vegging with a screen is a step too far to consider. You see little glimpses of ecstasy, you miss the weekend when I come back when he’s in a little self castigating spiral of doom because he’s too busy feeling like a bad boyfriend because he’s not in the mood for sex to notice I’m feeling sore, bloated and fragile, hardly horny at all.

I trailed comicon with the company of someone I see as effortless cool. Let’s call her “Tattoos”. Gosh, I thought. I hope she wants to be friends with me. She’s so funny and pretty! Tats, meanwhile was struck by my dominance and having a hard time internally not calling me “Miss” and kneeling.

I, of course, don’t see it. I see my often cheerful, consistently awkward self. Which of course gets complimented as confidence, as what is my own obliviousness or mechanical social performance doesn’t have a disclaimer to outside observers. Such is life.