photo credit: hansvandenberg30
Greet­ings read­ers as I invite you to read some­thing that you usu­ally are deprived off. My feel­ings towards a cer­tain topic and a descrip­tion of what has occurred in this house­hold. I hope that this more per­sonal point of view will unveal some of the per­sonal struggle left with me, as I believe it is a struggle many dom­in­ants are hav­ing on a day to day basis.

WE had not seen pet for a while so I knew that this visit would be spe­cial regard­less of what would actu­ally tran­spire. I know that pet misses us when we are apart and I will admit that I look for­ward to the time we have with each other because it allows me to express and explorer a slightly dif­fer­ent aspect of my per­son­al­ity. pet men­tioned before that she has some chal­lenges about express­ing her emo­tions. To help her push past the rational pro­cessing in her brain I asked pet whether she wanted a harsher treat­ment, so that she could focus on her emo­tions, so that her emo­tions could over­flow and simply over­whelm her rational side. I was very care­ful to explain the rami­fic­a­tions to her and I quietly planned what I believed pet tp be able to with stand and what not.

I want my read­ers to under­stand at this point, that harsh treat­ment has not neces­sar­ily any­thing to do with tor­tur­ing someone phys­ic­ally. Often the phys­ical pain in the begin­ning is merely a cata­lyst which forces the mind into such a vul­ner­able pos­i­tion that a single nail lightly scrap­ing the skin can evoke feel­ings of ter­ror and panic. The last two days, yes­ter­day and the day before, were very care­fully designed to pile dif­fer­ent emo­tional situ­ations on top of each other. A com­bin­a­tion of things, me yelling, me imme­di­ately enfor­cing con­sequence, me ask­ing for some­thing that is excep­tion­ally hard for her to do, me put­ting her into phys­ic­ally vul­ner­able and help­less positions.

There is a side to me that enjoys noth­ing more than to care­fully dis­sect a human being’s mind and to strip them bare, bit by bit. This pro­cess is dif­fer­ent for every per­son and for whatever reason I seem to have developed the abil­ity to quite clearly pro­ject what will work for the people I am with. It puts my mind into a vul­ner­able state, because once you assume con­trol like that of a another’s mind you are hold­ing their san­ity in your hands. There is noth­ing more pre­cious than another’s emo­tional san­ity and it is some times very tempt­ing to see just how far you can squeeze it.

I got to squeeze pet’s san­ity just a tiny bit. Look­ing at the intens­ity dial I think we never dialled it past low, yet that was enough for her to get to a place where she felt it neces­sary to use her safe word. I have to stress that I am proud of her for using the safe word and I also need to stress that she did not do it because some­thing phys­ic­ally went wrong, her mind could simply no longer take it. What I have wit­nessed before is that indi­vidu­als play­ing in such a man­ner will end up in a place that is so ter­ri­fy­ing due to its help­less­ness that they are just about to panic, that is when they use their safe-word. There are a thou­sand things that can set that pro­cess off, for pet it must have been the pro­longed, harsh treat­ment and the com­bin­a­tion of pain and my com­mands at that point of time down in the dun­geon basement.

What is troub­ling to me at times, is the fact that I truly enjoyed get­ting her to that place. There is not one thing that I regret doing and I know that apart from want­ing her phys­ic­ally unharmed my emo­tional involve­ment for her pain and suf­fer­ing was next to nil. I con­tinu­ously have to ree­valu­ate my lim­its and how far I am will­ing to go when I am in a situ­ation such as the one we had over the past two days. It forces me to under­stand my inner safeties and it some­times becomes a scary situ­ation as well. The closer you push your­self to that place of indul­ging in your own dark­ness the less light is shone on the good parts that make up your being. Going down into the base­ment of your soul is like being grasped in a choke hold of inhu­man cold and lack of light where the exit seems to be pulled away from you at light speed. Just like a black hole has its even hori­zon, you do not want to cross the point of no return into that vor­tex, simply because you know that you will not get out of it.

I am happy to say that no one fell into the black hole and there are no dead bod­ies to hide in the back yard, yet I have learned some­thing about myself which is hard to admit. My desire to live vicari­ously though the des­pair, fear and pain of another human I con­trol is big­ger than I thought. If someone sat me down and asked whether I had a hard time doing what I have done to pet, I would hon­estly say that all I had was fun. I might have been very con­cen­trated and not aroused all the time, but see­ing her wiggle, scream and see­ing her mind being turned inside out, that was fun. Just as much as it was fun to hold her after that release and make her under­stand that she never was in danger, that this feel­ing of help­less­ness she just exper­i­enced is some­thing I can con­trol for her. That level of trust is prob­ably not some­thing you can explain you have to expere­ince it to give it up and to receive it back once more.

It would be fool­ish to think that this exper­i­ence is not as edu­ca­tional to me as it should be to pet. I am fas­cin­ated to learn once more how little it takes to push someone over the vir­tual edge once they have inves­ted them­selves for a pro­longed amount of time. In all hon­esty I had not expec­ted pet to last much longer than 14:00 hours. She las­ted a little bit longer and that must have taken a toll on her. Even though I might have not dialled the intens­ity up too far, know­ing that she was not com­ing for a very emo­tion­ally bal­anced place, I had expec­ted her to get to the point of no return much earlier in the process.

It is very hard for pet to under­stand that she is not to make decisions in this house on what is proper and what is not. That she is to sur­render what she believes is an action or a beha­viour she dis­likes. The emo­tional occur­rence which broke the camel’s back is dir­ectly related to that beha­viour. pet had been gagged and choked up a little of her saliva. I removed the gag to make the situ­ation safe again and I told her to spit her saliva and Flem out onto the plat­form. First of all to clear her air­ways swiftly and thus know that she would not choke, yes also because I knew how much she would hate to do it. I was not nice about it either, I pulled on her hair, put her into a situ­ation of pain, I got up close and per­sonal and nearly yelled at her. Know­ing that she was half sus­pen­ded, her ass hurt prob­ably ter­ribly and there was no con­ceiv­able way out of this situ­ation, he mind quite simply snapped. The fact that I used my crop to snap the wooden cloth pegs off her nipples had noth­ing to do with her decision any­more. That pain just simply furthered her exhaus­tion to finally give in and say the word. Quite frankly her mind got tired.

The Bas­tard

I am the wet dream of every black ops com­mander. I know that I can sus­pend my moral beliefs that I can elev­ate myself above com­pas­sion and care and I am intel­li­gent enough to execute any com­plex plan with pre­ci­sion. The bas­tard in me is a part of my being that I do not like enjoy­ing, because it scares me. There are def­in­ite traits in that part of me which are a com­mon­al­ity to the most vile serial killers we have ever had to cap­ture on this planet. They feel no guilt, no remorse and often have an atti­tude of total dis­dain towards their vic­tims. Lucky for me it is not as bad as I eluded in the last sen­tence, but many traits are there and my rational half is quite scared to go there. I truly believe that this fear is an internal safety mech­an­ism, just as my dis­cip­line is and my need to research phys­ical activ­it­ies, such as sus­pen­sion or whip­ping. Sur­ren­der­ing con­trol and let­ting the beast off the leash for just a bit is exhil­ar­at­ing though. It pro­duces a high that is hard to describe if you never went there your­self. It is not the know­ledge that you put a human being into a pre­dic­a­ment where they are phys­ic­ally help­less, it is the feel­ing of toy­ing with their mind. The layer of fear in their eyes, the anti­cip­a­tion of what is next to come and the know­ledge that you do not need to beat them black and blue to get them to break down hys­ter­ic­ally and cry. A single word might be enough or a breath along their neck.

That Bas­tard in me enjoys toy­ing with a submissive’s mind just as he would be toy­ing with a mouse if he was a cat. As much as I would love to be able to sep­ar­ate this out into him and me I under­stand that to be a futile attempt to ration­al­ise what makes me, me. I know that Bas­tard is me and me being a part of that Bas­tard allows me to con­trol it much bet­ter than deny­ing its exist­ence.  That part of a day with pet where I felt like shuff­ling the deck and allow­ing myself to play with that part of me, only put me much firmer into the driver’s seat than any­thing else I could have done. I believe it is imper­at­ive that you embrace the things that scare you, that you prac­tice the things which are dan­ger­ous. This exper­i­ence has helped to rein­force that point of view. The more often you step towards the edge the less daunt­ing it seems.

I love the Bas­tard in me whenever I dream about the pos­sib­il­it­ies. I know that a part of my devi­ant mind is deeply rooted within that part of me and it makes me the dom­in­ant that I am. The people that meet me always enjoy my pres­ence, I have had a repu­ta­tion of being the charm­ing, well edu­cated man. To myself I always thought how fool­ish those people were to believe for one second that it was a reflec­tion of who I truly am. I know that I can be ruth­less, without remorse, that I can get true pleas­ure from what appals oth­ers. Soci­ety dic­tates that the charm­ing, well behaved and utterly pleas­ing part in me should be more suc­cess­ful, yet more than once the Bas­tard in me has helped me to get on with life. Espe­cially when I had to go through emo­tional hard­ship. It is a two edge sword and one cut evil while the other cuts good. I am in con­trol of that sword and it is a pleas­ure to wield it. I simply need to be very mind­ful how man get cut by each side of the blade.

I under­stand that posts like these are not usual for me, as such they might evoke ques­tions I have not answered, so please do ask me and addi­tional ques­tions you might have and I will try to cla­rify to the best of my abilities.

What I would like to say last is that pet is fine. After she uttered her safe-word we changed the whole second day and remainder of that day. There was cuddle time, con­ver­sa­tions time and enough time for her to recover only to go back with a red ass nonetheless.