My brain has been all over the place late. So many moments of indecision and confusion and brief shining moments of clarity. There have been moments of elation, frustration, exhaustion, envy and lust but none of them have been around long enough to purge me of its friends. They have swept in like carrion birds to pick at bits of my spirit in a rush before taking flight and leaving me battered. It’s not as if this has never happened because of course it has. It has just never swung in and stayed so long. It’s likely partially my fault because I dipped my toes back into the world that centers me so quickly and haven’t been back there in over a month. Talking about it doesn’t give my body that jolt that sends everything rushing out of my brain but the pain. The sweet sweet pain that makes me feel ethereal and like I’m floating. Everything else feels like a temporary escape from the daily grind that gives me an hour or two of peace and tranquility that is no where as lasting as having my flesh warmed and tight from a flogger or a belt or a hand or a well you get the point.
In some ways I still feel confused about where my role is and who I will ultimately end up following. Don’t get me wrong I know which side of the slash I belong on but I keep trying to figure out what the next man will need to do in order to fully capture my attention. I’m no longer the young spry sub girl who was swept up by the promise of pain. I’m also not the girl who can be controlled by the threat of pain. I read another post and thought she’s right and then not right as it applies to me. I desperately need to trust you in order to submit to you. When or if you break that trust I should probably save you years of frustration trying to get me back into the right head space because that will always be lingering somewhere. But part of my brain needs to fear you. I need to have a little tickle in my spine whenever your voice drops an octave. My dilemma now is I’m not sure it’s fair or even reasonable to expect that dichotomy in the Man I choose to serve. It’s a hard switch to pull from being my teddy bear to my tormentor but if I’m honest with myself that’s what I want. That fictionalized man inspires me to run my fingertips across my parted lips wishing waiting wanting to be forced against the wall and stripped and fucked until all that’s left is my parted lips saying thank you Sir.
I’m enamored of that space. Truthfully I’ve rarely been pushed to my limit. I’ve used my safe word once in ten years not because I was being a strong tough girl but because I needed to. He told me he wanted to bruise me and chocolate doesn’t bruise so easily. But that high kept me pain free for 12 hours of a 16 hour drive. And the purple markings that appeared over the next few days made me smile. The inability to sit down during my initial staffing meetings was a secret rush. Being Klaire is my vanilla persona. That Kinky tag is the real me. I get to emerge and thrive in that space. I miss that space. So much.