Her Owner

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.