Monday, February 16, 2015

On Ur Kneez, Bitch: My Perspective on Kneeling

Kneeling. A lot of emphasis is placed on the act of kneeling, both online and in the local community, or, at least, my local community. It is the epitome of submissive acts. It's the position from which all submissive feelings flow. It is now apparently the ultimate band aid for a relationship? Have problems communicating? Make the s-type kneel first.

I dun get it.



I mean, I get why people do it and like it. When I first got into kink, I bought into it too. I thought kneeling was super important. Then, I discovered something.

Kneeling fucking hurts.

I am a woman who is endowed with a generous amount of squish. I cannot maintain a resting kneel position for more than a minute or so without it becoming so uncomfortable it's distracting. That has most certainly added to the fact that I have never attached any sort of emotional significance to kneeling.

It really does nothing for me. It doesn't put me in a submissive mindset. With a partner, I don't really float in and out of my role, so there's no real need for a reset button. I can compartmentalize a lot of things, but that's not a part of me I've shoved into a separate box.

My ex never really required kneeling unless he wanted oral sex. Daddy doesn't seem overly interested in kneeling, but he has only dated women roughly my size, so I think he understands the physical limitations of that kind of body. Of course, he knows that I have problems with it, as I have mentioned it before.



I was in a platonic D/s dynamic for about 6 months with a couple of play partners between my two ownership relationships. At a certain point in that dynamic, they gave me a temporary collar, as the dynamic was always known to be a temporary arrangement. They had me kneel when giving it to me, and said some stuff. I guess you would call it a sort of collaring ceremony. I feel bad about this but I found the position so uncomfortable, I couldn't even concentrate on what they were saying. There was no submissiveness in my brain at all. All I could think of was "please stop talking so I can move. I think my feet are about to fall off and die."

I can deal with the kneel where you're up off your calves, but that's more of a utilitarian position for me. I use it during dance, exercise, topping, or oral. But I can't manage a resting kneel at all. It hurts. I'd much rather lay in your lap and curl up around you like a cat. 

Yeah, I'm a weirdo and I flout a lot of the stereotypical kinky traditions, but, eh, I've never been particularly normal. It's also another reason why I'd be a shitty kajira. :D

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Wicked Wednesday: Blind Faith

People talk a lot about trust, particularly within the BDSM lifestyle. They often like to imply that BDSM relationships require a great deal more trust than vanilla relationships. That's not true, but there are those who like to think so.  One kind of relationship that I do think requires more trust than most is the long distance relationship. Not because it's deeper or more profound, or anything silly like that, but because in an LDR, particularly one where you don't get to see each other at all or only very rarely, all you really have to go on is trust.

Source


I have not yet been in a relationship where I have lived with my d-type. My first dom was my first relationship. We lived close enough to see each other regularly, but I was in college during the entirety of our relationship, so much of our communication was at a distance, with the exception of seeing each other on the weekends until he stopped even giving me that. I likely placed too much trust in him, accepting every excuse he offered. Although, perhaps that wasn't so much trust as not wanting to admit that the relationship was broken. I wanted to believe he was as invested as I was even though the evidence pointed elsewhere.

I had a brief spell of even greater stupidity between my first dom and Daddy, when I allowed a guy (I won't call him a man) to trick me into thinking he wanted a relationship, despite never managing to meet me and feeding me so much bullshit, it's a wonder I believed any of it. I learned from that that I'm far too trusting and a little too optimistic at times. I don't really like to talk about that one. I feel like a moron enough when I remember other less ridiculous things.





I have managed to maintain this relationship with Daddy for nearly two years now, at a distance. Perhaps it is easier because we knew each other for years before we started a relationship, or because he gives me more attention than the one meat-space partner I had. But still, the distance requires immense trust that would be unnecessary in a live-in relationship (which is the ultimate goal here).

Basically, I have to take it on blind faith that everything he says to me is true. I have to trust that he is who he says he is, that he has done what he says he's done. I have to believe that he does intend to visit, despite my dad's skepticism (which he, mercifully, has never expressed to me because he has tact, but my mother felt the need to tell me anyway). I have to trust that when he talks about how certain things will be when I am living there, that he fully intends for my relocation to happen, even though there have been so many setbacks due to injury and work issues. I also have to trust that as a self-proclaimed manwhore (or former manwhore) that he's not running around fucking every woman who asks.



And, as an owner, he has to trust me a great deal. He has to trust that I am abiding by his rules even if he has little evidence beyond my word that I am doing so.

>.>
<.<

I'm still working on that "no calling myself fat" rule...

He has to trust that I perform the few tasks he asks me to do. He might get a picture, if it's possible to take one of it, but that's about it. He has to trust that I will tell him when I fail.

Being in a long distance relationship is emotionally exhausting and infinitely frustrating, especially in the sex and kink department, but, boy howdy, we got that trust thing down pat.



Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked