Old Demons Rise

Old demons, the ones that have haunted me all my life again and again, have risen once more with powerful wings, triumphant cries, and even sharper talons.  They stalk and hunt me like helpless prey in a world filled with grey shadows and icy bitter wind.

Every time I've faced them, I've fought differently with all the strength I can muster, desperate for a different outcome. No matter what tactic, what defence, what offense I've attempted their pursuit was relentless.  I could find no one to fight with me.  I could find no shelter.  I was alone.

I was alone.

And every time they have viciously won, sinking their poisonous fangs deeply into my vulnerable soft heart. They feasted on my tears and my pain with sadistic glee as they ripped me to shreds. Yet in all those other fights, I'd always found some way to keep a small piece of myself hidden deep in my soul.

This time, I'm not so lucky.

I've left myself nowhere to hide a sliver of myself, no bit of me in reserve, no crumb tucked away safe.  Every fucking shred of me is engaged in this fight.  If I lose, I'll lose fucking everything.

But the one truth I know better than anything is that they will win yet again if I'm on this journey alone, but this time I'll be completely destroyed.
~DominaKat

Fear

My current mental exploration of submission centers a lot on my craving for fear-centered encounters with M. I've been pulling at the ends of this messy ball of reasoning trying to figure out why. I think I finally have a few ideas. 

Intensity. That kind of experience wouldn't likely be spontaneous. It would require my Owner to put considerable thought and effort into the planning and direction of that shared D/s experience between us. 

I'm stronger than I ever have been in our relationship. My mess of a life is honestly poised on the edge of a motherfuckin cliff and to stand this close to it's edge I've had to put the soft vulnerable pieces of me away. The warrior in me doesnt fear much and doesn't respond as easily to small doses of D/s as His little girl. The warrior needs a force of nature to force her to her knees and whimper in submission. 

My mind is flat out full juggling the various balls I have in the air. A fear-based encounter might be the only thing that short-circuits the rushing river of internal debate, careful and constant assessment, and never-ending brainstorming. 

And of course there's my insatiable need for more and growth. lol

~DominaKat

Exhibition

I can't lie. I get off on it, but only in M's presence. I've only done vanilla settings. Though in some ways those are more daring. I WANT any guy that walks by to see my heavy bare breasts sway beneath my top and understand HE gets to bask in them, smack them, fuck them. I want every person to see my fat nipples poking hard and tight against the thin fabric and know without a fucking doubt that M can expose, suck, tug, pinch, pull, slap, toy with those point tips at will. I want every damn person who sees my big ass shake down the street to be jealous of HIS property because HE can and will bend HIS pet over to touch, watch, molest, use, or beat HIS. 

Down to my DNA, I am HIS whore and dog and I want everyone to know my place. I'm proud to be His, and I love when He proudly claims His pet. 

~DominaKat

My Response to Violent Scenes

Lately whenever I watch a violent scene in a movie with a female victim...my response is a bit disturbing. His pussy gets wet and I want to spread my legs for abuse. I can deny that the masochistic whore in me craves a similar scene with M. I want to taste that violence at His hands. I crave being bound and at His mercy as I struggle helplessly. I want to drown in fear of Him as He hurts me and rapes my holes. 

As I stare transfixed at the screen, I am no longer empathetic toward the characters. I simply see actors held safely in the context of filming. Just as I would be held safely in the security of our D/s relationship. I'm not horrified or fearful of the actions played out for my entertainment. No...I'm more jealous of their opportunity to be bound, gagged, and tormented. 

These moments more than any other show me how far down the rabbit hole I've fallen. As I clench my thighs together and hope my wet cunt doesn't leave a stain on my clothing I try to slow my rapid heart rate and swallow my whimpers. With embarrassment and shame I recognize what a twisted whore I am and how desperate I am to feel M's rage and darkness. 

And when the movie moves on...I try in silence to bury my disappointment that my violent twisted porn has ended. Thankfully the lights are dimmed. 

~DominaKat

Lost

I crave Him morning, noon, and night. There is nothing like the taste of Him. Feeling His dick against my tongue is my communion. When my hands are on Him I find a peace I never knew existed. 

And god...when He's in me...deep...when He's filled my hole, consumed my mind with dark twisted words, when He reaches into my soul and toys with my vulnerablity...when He hurts me and seduces my fear for His pleasure...I'm lost. 

Just fucking lost. In Him. In Our beautiful darkness. 

~sigh~

~DominaKat

Perfect Timing

Love is a beautiful and powerful emotion. It can spurs us to think bigger than ourselves and further than this moment. But very rarely does love come with perfect timing. The fact is there is no perfect time at all for love. Our lives are never that conveniently structured. Good stuff over laps bad. Easy stuff mixes with difficult. 

But the most wonderous thing about love is that it is a blessing, and no matter where we might be in our journey it gives.  Whether it gives strength, hope, faith, joy, peace, security, sanctuary is up to you. Love is what you make of it, no matter the timing. 

In some ways M and I found each other at the perfect moment. We both were losing hope of ever finding that special someone who fit together with us so well. We also were about to face tremendous personal challenges.  But we found each other and found strength in each other. In some ways it found us at the most difficult trail of our life journeys...if only we had x, y, and z as we learned and grew together maybe things would have been and would be smoother. But it is what it is, and I feel tremendously blessed to have Him and our love. 

No matter when love arrives, at some point in time it will be easy and in another it will be complicated and inconvienent. The wisest choice is to...not squander it and it instead seize on its uplifting breeze to take you both higher and to make the most of the chance it offers. There are millions of people out there wishing, hoping, and praying for true love to come their way every day. :-)

~DominaKat

Leap of Faith

I'm scared. He's scared. We've never done this before. But...so much of everything I've done in the last almost three years has been new. I've taken chance after chance risking my heart, my mind, and even my world as I knew it, and He's NEVER let me down.  Every time He's held firmly to my hand, and I've held onto His. 

He fought for me in the worst of times. He stood by me and stood up for me against an onslaught. He's been there when I was sick. He's wiped my tears. He's helped me get through when times were tight. He believed in me. 

I've stood by Him through thick and thin. I've been there for Him when He was sick, hurt, and lost. I've listened to His tears, His anger, His doubt. I've helped Him when times were tight. I invested in Him fully, committing every ounce of effort I have to Our dreams. I've held on through His distractions, through His own drama, and through His struggles.  I believed in Him. 

He's never quit on me. He's the One Man, the only Man, who didn't get part way and give up because it was too hard. He's finished the first manuscript even when things were chaotic around Him. When He saw what I'd put together for Him, He reached some more. Then He stretched, grew, and worked His ass off with me in the grueling editing process, and NEVER gave up. Immediately after that He refused to sit on His ass and tore through the next manuscript. He never stops planning the next story and the next.   Together we have worked harder than we ever have to do what neither of us had dreamed before we'd met each other.  We believed in each other.

And yes, we have had great, beautiful, wonderful times too. So many I can't count.  But it's in the struggle that we find out the true character of one another. And Mark has always found the strength just as I have to hold on to Us, Our love, Our dreams, and to keep moving forward together.  We believe in Us. 

What we have together may not always be perfect or pretty or smooth, but it's incredibly rare. We have found love even amid turbulence and chaos. Imagine what we could be as the dust settles and we truly find Our feet. 

He wrote me the other night..."I love you so much."  I sometimes wonder if He knows how much His words still fill me with Hope and give me strength. I hang on to His words on dark days. "I'm never letting you go." "You're mine." "You aren't alone any more, pet." 

I asked the other night..."Am I home to you, Mark?" "Yes."  "My home is you too." So despite our fears and the unknowns...we've never let those stop us before...we are taking that leap of faith in each other. As we have in every thing else we've tried to do...if we hold on tight and work together we will find success. 

I love that Man. And He loves me. 

~DominaKat

Broken

I don't know how to fight for my Man.
I don't.
Maybe I lack the inner strength.
Maybe I lack the intelligence and clarity.
Maybe I lack something so fundamental that I no matter what I do or how hard I try, I'm destined to lose everything to another in need.

I'm lost.
In a storm of cold pain so unrelenting I can do nothing to escape.
I'm shredded to ribbons from the cuts I've suffered.
Too smart not to see.
Too foolish not to deny.
Too in love to protect myself.
Too loyal to run.

I've tried to push us out of this.
I've tried to pull.
I never attacked.
I never let go.
But no matter what I did I wasn't sheltered and protected.
Only punished for my efforts.
I felt that so profoundly.

So close...
So fucking close...

Maybe the fear of that had Him reaching for old safety.
Maybe the unknowns had Him defaulting into patterns I couldn't overcome.
Maybe He heard His demons instead of my search for understanding.

I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.

I'm just broken and battered and devoid of any pride or strength.
~DominaKat

The Grace to be Nothing

Every time I hear this track it takes back. Not that I ever heard it then. But the tone, the beat, the lyrics, the voice all are reminiscent of a place I've left behind, a place where I was cold, distant, and at times vicious. M introduced me to this song years ago, but he brought it up as part of some work we're doing.  I've listened to it over and over this evening remembering who and what I use to be.

For a very long time, I was hard.  The warrior in me was all that there was.  Everything else I'd buried, burned, ignored for the sake of survival.  I walked with thick armor around my soul and weapons within reach. If I was hurt, I would slide my cool cruel blades across any exposed skin I knew existed and laugh quietly as the warmth of their blood seeped across my fingertips.  Most quickly learned to steer clear or not cross me.  Others stubbornly refused to heed my warnings and earned their punishments. I refused to let anyone get away with wounding me. I'd had enough pain to last a lifetime, so I made sure there was always a cost when others chose unwisely, and I made sure they felt me pierce and slice open their weak undersides.

I fucked for my pleasure back then.  It was a rare thing when I let another touch me, going months and years without until the sheer need to whore overwhelmed me.  There were no kisses.  There were no pleasantries.  I expected and wanted nothing but momentary physical entertainment.  Except for one, I cared nothing.  Except for one, none knew my full name, knew my address, or knew a damn thing about me except that I spread my legs for them to play in a sopping wet cunt, that I fucked like a demon, and sucked dick like a goddess.  It always surprised me how well half my effort was ever received.

My blood ran cold for years.  My heart was held behind a dark thick cave.  I was a bitch.  I was untouchable.

And then I sought answers in myself.

In some place in my mind, I knew what would happen if I found my answers.  I'm not sure if I was brave, if I was just so hungry, or if I just ignored the potential.  But I sought to somehow sate the whore in me.  Though I didn't admit it to myself, I knew that was the only way anyone would ever reach my soul.  Only through brutal physical, mental, and emotional conquering would anyone ever tame me.

Now here I am.  Tamed on M's leash.

My warrior is not dead, but M's pet holds her leash tight and keeps her unarmed and for the most part inactive.

There are of course moments...when I twitch to grab my armor and my steel.  When I want so much for the pain and stress to recede.  But I'm trying to do things differently.  I'm doing everything I can not to fall back into default patterns meant to protect my soft heart. Before M...Whenever shit's gotten hard, I let go. I let them go. I refused to make a fool of myself any more than I already had, and instead I shut off everything in me.  Each suffered their own hell of their choosing and in many ways still are.

But I'M trying to do things differently.  I don't want to repeat my past.  I want to find my future with M for than anything.

I've never given 100% before, but with M I give everything I have, even...yes, even when the pain threatens to shatter me.  I won't defend with calculated cruelty.  I won't protect with hard, distant, coldness.  No matter how much that place I use to live promises me some semblance of sanctuary, somehow, somewhere...no...that place isn't a mystery...in the unconditional love I have for M, I find the strength and courage to stay wide open and vulnerable even when pain, fear, or anger consume me.

Now I seek to..."find the grace to be nothing" in a different place then I use to be.  My only hope when I am nothing is that I eventually I'll find M's warmth surrounding me and not the icy cold that use to keep me company.
~DominaKat

Would You Ask Me to Dance?

Would you see me?
Notice me?
Standing there.
Waiting.
In hope.
Searching.

Would you ask me to dance?
Touch my hand and tug me from my spot on the sidelines?
To wrap your arms around my trembling frame.
Would anticipation course through you?
To pull my lush curves close.
And hold me tight.

I don't want to talk.
I can find no words.
Just don't let go.
Show me how to dance with you.
Slow sways.
Easy, simple.

What would you whisper in my ear?
Or would you stay silent?
Or weave dreams of us?
Pull my head to your chest.
Run your hand down my back.
Warm my cool skin.

Would I captivate you?
Would your warm full lips kiss my shoulder?
And send shivers racing through me.
Touch my chin.
Look into my eyes and see me.
Would you pull me closer?

Would your eyes close in bliss?
Would you lose yourself in me?
And find hope in my touch.
As I curled into your heat.
Listen to your heart beat strong and steady.
And followed your lead.

Would you hold me tight long after the last note faded?
~DominaKat

His Leash

Most of the time, I'm a good girl.

I never tug at my leash in distraction or disinterest from my Owner, seeking to play somewhere else.

I never chew at my leash wishing to be set free of my captivity.

I never respond lazily to my Owner's commands.

I never ignore my Owner out of spite or anger or frustration.

While i may sometimes forget a protocal in my haste, I never disobey a direct order from my Owner.

Yes, most of the time, I'm a good girl, but I'm beginning to understand what happens when I'm not so good.

Sometimes I yank my leash out of fear. I lock my knees because I'm afraid to go down that road. It's rocky and I fall and when others took me on that road we ended up parting ways. A dog's fear requires a firm steady hand and patience.

Sometimes i pull at my leash to feel the tension. To feel the choke collar tighten around my neck because I simply crave that comfort and security.

Sometimes I yank on my leash to get my Owner's attention. Whether my action is met with anger and frustration or calm nurturing at least He sees His pet again and remembers I'm on His leash.

I need to work to be more conscience of why and when I'm not so good and somehow positively communicate with my Owner my emotions, so that together we can move forward in synch.
~DominaKat

The Pride, Respect, & Submission of a Whore

Struggling today to think clearly as I re-face truths I've already known.  Somehow how everything works has completely escaped me.  I've tried to reach out to M for clarification, but I can't seem to get my thoughts together coherently and he's struggling to find words to offer me.

pride

noun

1. 1.

   a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.

verb

1. 1.

   be especially proud of a particular quality or skill.

   
   

respect

noun

1. 1.

   a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

verb

1. 1.

   admire (someone or something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

   
   

At my essence, I am a whore.  A slut.  A woman that longs, craves, and needs to have her body beat, her holes used ruthlessly, and her emotions dragged through dark humiliation and degradation.  Yes, for my safety, sanity, and well-being, I must indulge in these proclivities within the confines of a relationship built on love, trust, respect, and monogamy. In fact I've only felt comfortable being this way with M.  No one else has ever truly seen the depths of my wretchedness.

But hiding it doesn't change the truth of my default setting.  If I'm stressed I want to spread my legs.  If I'm happy I long for mutual pleasure.  If I'm sad, I ache to be touched.  If...if...if... Some woman simply aren't made that way.  I get it, and I get me.

Though I don't always see me.

Due to circumstances and life events, I rarely have had the opportunity lately to look and see that reckless primal piece of myself.  Yet yesterday, M stroked that wild wicked whore, and oh yes, His cunt wept for Him in delight and the resulting spray soaked my thighs, the bed, and everything and anything in between.  That Man does something to me that no one on Earth has ever done.

But I was emotionally rocked at what I saw in myself.

Only occasionally in my life have I indulged my whore.  Most of the time it was at the expensive of my emotional health, but it happened as I searched for the physical activities that would sate my whore and the soul deep ache that never seemed to be fulfilled.  I spread my legs for guys I didn't love, didn't need, didn't even want, simply to have my cunt touched and filled in hopes that the longing I had would be momentarily diminished.  I fucked married guys.  I sucked their girlfriend's cum off their hard dicks.  I openly shared guys to keep it all real so that I wouldn't for a moment falsely believe in any emotional reliability.  I didn't more than all that, and physically I enjoyed the activities, but never ever came close to what I longed for until M.

M with merely a touch can sate His whore like no one ever has or could.  Almost from the beginning He seemed to know my soul.  He sees the pieces of me that I let fall in the shadows, and when He touched on my whorish past and my whorish desires, I was completely and beautiful undone and at His mercy.

While I am completely emotionally, mentally, and physically monogamous to M and have been since the beginning...I am a whore.  If M asked...~sigh~ the things I would willingly do for Him and bask in the pleasure of are twisted and filled with defilement and humiliation.  I would do anything he asked...I would whore, gang-bang, take a train (is that the right phrasing?). I would do things that any vanilla person would condemn me for.

And today I wondered...how can he respect that piece of me?  Be proud of that wild primal immoral slut that exists beneath my big heart and my intelligence and my loyalty?  I have struggled to understand how he could respect that beast on His leash.  How could He love that?  Not love as in that's hot...but love as in she's who I want to spend my life with.  How does He demonstrate respect to that vile filthy bitch?  That whore...she exists...she doesn't have much pride and has absolutely none for Him...so how can He look at me and see me as having any self-respect for myself?  Is respect simply not part of the equation of a whore?  Isn't that part of the...thrill?  ~sigh~

Like.... I kinda get it...

M once pulled out my tits in public.  Fuck it was amazing and embarrassing and completely hedonistic as the guy across the way watched.  I know He's proud of my fat slutty tits.  Proud to own them.  Proud  of how they look and how other men stare at them and then look at Him knowing He gets to touch, suck, and fuck His big white mounds.  Other men are jealous.  And I'm proud that He's proud of my tits.  I get off that He wants to show them off.

Is that my answer then?


It's not just the whore I wonder about...what about my submission?  If I willingly give into Him emotionally and mentally even letting go of boundaries I once held sacred...how can He respect me when He can do whatever He wants and I'd do anything He wanted or needed to be happy?  How can He feel pride in someone who is completely submissive and in His control.  He's already earned my submission...He is who He is...I love Him...I obey.  How is that not boring?  How can He respect a woman who has no pride for Him?  How can He believe I respect myself when I will do anything He asks?

~sigh~ In a lot of ways none of this is new.  I've know what I was willing to do for Him for a long time.  Facing them and even going through with certain steps hasn't been easy this week.  But I feel like the answers are right there....but they're like hidden behind this curtain that's stuck in place.  I know M and I have gone over most of this long ago, and I got it then.  But today, I'm stumped.  And while I know I'm probably looking for some kind of reassurance in light of a new degree of submission I've knelt to and changes in my life...I seek to understand how He sees these pieces of me.

What I know.... (first draft...need a break here shortly and I want to share with M.)
I know He holds in high regard my ability to be both light and dark. My needs and desires are a mirror of His.
I know He values the strength I have to find peace and strength as He crushes me.
I know He wants and values my technical and professional abilities because He let me into His work.
I know He respects my opinion because He puts questions/situations/history in front of me and listens as we debate.
I know He respects the woman I am because I've met His mother and family.
I know He takes pride in owning me because He's claimed me openly on Fet, going so far as to protect and support me, and He openly claimed me to the one person in His social circle that I've met.
I know He loves to play with His whore in ways no one ever dared and watch me both suffer, blush, and bask in His words and actions.
I know He takes pride in the fact I've let down all of my guards and take joyous pleasure in things no one else will ever see or experience of me.
I know He values me because He won't share His toy with others.
I know He loves me because He's also let go of some of His limits in order to protect and nurture me through rough times.

He's shown His pet respect by valuing her opinion openly on Fet.
He's shown His woman respect by asking and listening to her opinion in general.
He's shown His submissive respect by claiming her on Fet and honoring her position in His life.

Not spinning...I'm calm...just playing with the puzzle in my head or maybe just rearranging pieces...
~DominaKat

Blind Faith

Sometimes this thing that we do is not easy or clear or logical.  Sometimes I have to close my eyes to the world around me and in blind faith hope that M won't shatter my soul beyond repair.

I understood long ago that this was a once in a lifetime chance.  And I reached deep down into me and found the courage I needed. Because for once, I'd found a Man worthy of all that I am.  For once, I'd found a Man who didn't sit on the sideline and promise me bullshit while He fell victim to His ego, childish emotions, or His throbbing dick.  For once, I'd found a Man who promised again and again to never let me go.

I chose M, and I gave Him the power to destroy me when I ripped open every vulnerable crevice I had created over the last twenty-some years and made rubble of the high cliffs where I had long stood guarding my heart and soul.  For Him, I left myself no where to hide and no position of strength.  I stood in front of Him, laid my weapons at His feet, and shed every bit of my armor.  I was and continue to be utterly defenseless.

Most of the time I bask in my submission to Him.  I believe with everything I am in what He has chosen to build with me and in the potential we have together.  I want with all that I am to be there as His pet for the next the twenty or thirty years, to still stand in awe of Him when He's sixty-five and still spitting fire and weaving tales, and to be His soft spot when His bones ache and His body takes its last breath.  Once I let Him have my full heart, there was no going back for me ever.

Yet there are days when I am terrified, when dark storms brew and then crash unceasingly at the most vulnerable unprotected pieces of my soul.  In those days, I have to close my eyes and in blind faith hope, pray, and beg that M will love and protect me and that He meant every word and promise He has ever said to me.  That's when I submit at my deepest, my most humble, at my most vulnerable levels to Him and His actions.  In blind faith.  In those days, His Dominance is complete.  Only His strength, will, and control can save me and keep His pet safe.  Everything that I am is at His feet.
~DominaKat

Clarity in the Midst of Shadows

I needed tonight with my Daddy. Easy banter surrounded the bits of big decisions. Laughter and teasing filled the space between us. My Daddy's warmth as He played gently with His silly pet sheltered us for a moment. Our peace. Our harmony. Our love.  That soft warm light that pushes away the shadows of the unknown is so damn beautiful. I've surrender helplessly to it since the moment we first spoke years ago. 

He is my Light. My Heaven. My One. He always will be. Since the moment at the fountain. Since the first moment He touched me and made me feel the depths of my dirty whorishness. Since I first knelt in total submission at His feet. 

I truly do bask in His attention and in His shadow. When He sees me, hears me, touches me, reaches for me...I know a contentment like no other. My place with Him is my home and my destiny. There is no place on earth I would rather be. 

I needed tonight like I need to stand in the sun. I feel stronger more centered. In Him I find clarity. 

In Him I find everything. 

~DominaKat

P.S. Though I still think He should take a turn now and then sleeping in the wet spot! ;-P