Depravity Du Jour

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 06:47:00 +0000

Words to live by, these.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 04:47:00 +0000

Sentenced to Hell

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 05:16:00 +0000

You have sent me to Hell. I may have been destined for it anyway, all things considered, but you hand-delivered me to the devil's doorstep.

You made me love you. Not just by being you, but by engaging me. You didn't have to do that. We would have been simple, easy friends for the rest of eternity. You didn't have to call me yours. You didn't have to call yourself mine. You could have kept things casual and I would have been fine with that. I would have been fine. I'm not, now.

You asked me for everything I had, and I gave it to you - every minute, every day, in the only way I knew how. I gave it to you as I found it, as I discovered myself, as unfamiliar parts of me were uncovered. I gave you parts of me I never knew existed. I gave you these parts with the understanding that you wouldn't hurt me, that you would care for me, that you would tend to the wounds created in bringing these broken pieces to light. I placed myself squarely in your hands, and you abandoned me.

When I tell you that there's nothing left for me, I mean it. I can never trust anyone not to do exactly what you did. I can't ever know that someone else won't see me as I really am and promptly turn tail and run. So there won't be any after you. That great love I always wanted? It's not gonna happen. It can't, because I can't let it. The only person I trust with my being is you, because you're my best friend. And even if you suddenly pulled a 180 and dropped to your knees and professed your undying love for me, I would never be able to trust you with my heart.

So, I exist every day in Hell. And some part of me will probably always hate you for that.

And yet, after all that, all I want when all is said and done is for you to love me.

I miss being fucked in the ass.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 03:13:00 +0000

Kind of random for me to just post about anal sex out of nowhere, I suppose, but hey... I'm in the midst of my mid-cycle horny-as-fuck phase and it's what's on my mind.

I miss that first moment of penetration, that razor edge between discomfort and pain, where my mind is reeling and my ass is protesting and I'm kind of breathless and gaspy as I plead for extra gentleness. "Go slow," I whisper. "I will," He says and his voice is different - slower, maybe, or softer, and a little more unsteady than usual and I wish I understood why. And He does go slowly, but it still hurts. Kind of. But I know that just on the other side of the discomfort is an amazing feeling unlike any other. And a few strokes later, the discomfort is slowly edged out by that feeling and my god it's like nothing I've ever felt. It's so... warm. So warm and intense and so inescapable. And I'm so fully and completely dominated (because, let's face it, nothing says dominance like having a cock in your ass) and it's just... it's me giving everything I have.

I. Fucking. Miss. That.

And that voice? It haunts me. Every day.

Hallelujah

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 06:02:00 +0000

...
There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you hear tonight
It’s not somebody who's seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
...

As it turns out, I'm awesome after all.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 21:06:00 +0000

I feel like such an ass. Like a total chump. You see, I KNEW this would happen. Two years ago, before anything ever really happened with He and I, I knew if anything ever did, it would never work. Don't ask me how I knew, but I did.

He turned me loose. We're still best friends and all that, but the rest... it's over. And as much as I want it not to be over, or for the break to be a temporary one, something that will heal in time, it won't be. No matter how much I want Him, no matter how much I love Him, He will never be what I need. He doesn't have it in Him. The funny part is, I couldn't see that until He basically pried me off of Him. I was SO in love with Him and with the idea that I belonged to someone that I wouldn't allow myself to accept how starved I was for the kind of attention and affection I need. I wouldn't let myself believe that He couldn't give me those things.

Now, though... Now I belong to me, for better or worse, and I'm free to get what I need when and how I need it. And you know, it's much more available than I believed. It's much more available than He led me to believe. I spent so much time never being good enough for Him, that I really believed that I wasn't good enough, period. And that's so not true. That ass that was "just too big" for Him to appreciate? Someone else DOES appreciate it. My lacy panties that He never cared about? Someone out there REALLY likes them. Someone out there thinks I'm good enough in all the ways He never did. Someone wants to flirt with me. Someone wants to kiss me. SOMEONE WANTS ME.

The thought that I'm not His anymore, that I won't ever wear that collar I so wanted, that I won't ever get to proudly call myself His pet again, that I'll never have sex with Him again... it still makes me feel like I've just been gutted, but knowing that it's NOT because I'm defective and it's NOT because I'm entirely undesirable gives me the hope that I couldn't ever seem to find when I was His. I want to shout it from the rooftops, to be quite honest. "FUCK YOU! SOMEONE WANTS ME!"

I knew this would happen. I knew He would crush my spirit if I gave Him the chance. I just knew. But what I didn't know was that it would give me the push that I needed to find something that can build me up in every way that His disinterest tore me down. That I did not know.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 01:02:00 +0000

It's a lie. Everything here, it's a lie.

Well, not everything. But enough.

It's like it always is, like it always has been. A lie. Lies. The part where I acquiesce, where I take what I get and try to be happy with it. The part where I tell myself that soon, someday, He will want me the way I want Him to. That if I can just find the strength and willpower to change who I am, to make myself more attractive both inside and out, that He will see me and want me.

But... no. It is a lie. I can not change enough. Sometimes, I see it so clearly and it hurts, jesusmotherfuckingchrist it hurts so bad, and I can't bear the crushing weight of it. And I close my eyes and I pretend, I pretend that today will be different, that tomorrow will be different, that someday soon I will be enough and I will feel enough and things will be different.

And around I go, eyes closed so I don't have to know the truth. Until it slams me in the face.

It - this - is a lie.

I am not what He wants.

Nothing will ever, ever take that away.

Back on the horse?

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Wed, 15 Sep 2010 11:32:00 +0000

I haven't written in a long while, mostly because it seems that I write primarily as an outlet for angst or as a way to clarify my thoughts on a subject before I discuss it. There hasn't been much in the last while that's been so profoundly heart-wrenching that I have to write about it because there is no quick resolution. (Don't get me wrong - I've had plenty of "I can't do this anymore" moments, but they seem to get resolved more quickly these days.) Anyway, it seems that I'm back with more unresolved angst.

First of all, let me start by saying that shortly after He and I established our owner/pet relationship, He forbid my being sexual with anyone else but Him. I'd essentially been forced to rely on Him as the sole source of anything sexual, unless I wanted out of our relationship, which I definitely didn't. It was never easy, though, and it still isn't. He and I have had a VERY difficult time communicating (strangely, only on this one issue) and it's caused some big misunderstandings, some very hurt feelings and some very bad days. I became so attached to Him over the duration of our relationship, though, that for a very long time, I didn't even want to be with anyone else.

Over the last six months or so, I've become increasingly comfortable during sex, and as a result, I want more of it. I want more of Him. I love making love with Him more than I ever have with anyone, ever, so it seems normal that I'd want to do it regularly. To put it simply, He doesn't seem to feel the same way at all.

For basically my entire life, with rare exception, I've had considerably-less-than-frequent sex. It's varied from every few days to every few months, for the most part. I feel like I'm at a place in my life now where I should be able to do the things I want to do, and I want more sex than I've previously had. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want, and actually I find it quite strange that He seems to want it less the more I want it. Back when it was a constant source of frustration for me, we'd do it every few days. Over the last few months, It's dwindled to twice a month, at best. I'm having a very difficult time dealing with that.

He has some valid reasons for the reduced frequency. For one thing, the more I enjoy sex, the more difficult it is for me to be anything close to silent. I'd say I'm not loud, for sure, but I'm not silent. I'm perhaps just on the other side of quiet. Problem is, He's convinced that the other people in the house could hear us (well, me) and that's stressful for Him. So, it's actually worked out that the more comfortable I get and the more I enjoy sex, the less frequently it happens.

Of course, it gets more complicated. We both agree that monogamy isn't natural or instinctive to either of us, and that our relationship isn't going to be a monogamous one - at least not in the traditional sense of the word. He did forbid me from having sex with other people, but only because He knows how negatively sex had previously impacted me, and He doesn't want me acting out in self-destructive ways. I understand that, and it makes sense. But recently He started sleeping with someone else. Ordinarily, I wouldn't mind. If He thinks there's something He's missing, then I absolutely want Him to have it. If He's not having sex with me with the frequency He'd like, then I absolutely want Him to get what He needs from wherever He can. The problem is, since He's been screwing this other girl, He seems to want sex with me even less than before, and THAT hurts. I feel like the more I work at this, the more I do my best to communicate with Him and let Him know what I like and want and need, and the more comfortable I get, the less He wants to be with me.

He says that He wants to have sex with me, but He prefers that it be when no one's home so we won't be heard. While I do understand that, He's only rarely initiated anything while we're home alone, so I'm not sure that's all of it. Now that the kids are back in school, I've started a new job that has me out of the house during the only time that we would have previously had to be alone (which, as I said, never seemed to be all that important to Him since He usually uses that time to sleep).

It looks for all the world like the deck is stacked completely against me. I work during the only hours that He ever wants to have sex with me - that is, IF he wants to. Now He's taken to fucking another girl - not in addition to me, INSTEAD of me. She gets the evenings that I would have otherwise had, if only I was quieter. He tells me that He sill won't allow me to be with someone else. I tell Him that it's unfair of Him to keep me in a box and only take me out to play on rare occasions. But, there doesn't seem to be any easy solution. Every direction I look, this feels like rejection. It seems like He'd rather have sex with the other girl than me. He'd rather spend His time with her because she's less complicated. She isn't stressful. She doesn't need the care that I need. The funny thing is, I still don't really want to be with someone else. I feel like I NEED to, but I don't want to. I can't make myself care about finding someone new. I want Him. I want to be with Him. And I don't feel like He wants me anymore.

All about me. Well, kinda.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 03:09:00 +0000

Welcome to my blog! I figured I'd take a moment to jot down some random and not-so-random facts about me, since I like to know a little about the person I'm reading, and I'll bet you do too. So, for your enjoyment, I present... me! In 25 awesome, bite-sized chunks.

I'm an owned submissive. A pet, technically.
I still don't really know what that means. (He's still figuring it out too.)
For blog purposes, I refer to my owner as Him. (In real life, I don't have anything special that I call Him.)
He and I have been Owner & pet for about , give or take. We were friends for about 3 years before that.
Once He took me as His pet, we didn't have sex for 9 months. He did, however, get a blowjob every night that He wasn't sick or too exhausted to care. (I figure the count was at least 230 at the 9 month mark.)
He still gets a blowjob every couple days.
According to Him, I give great head. (And He doesn't lie!)
We're both in our thirties.
I've never owned a pair of high heels. (I'm tall for a girl as it is, I certainly don't need to be eleventy-billion feet tall and towering over the men-folk, thank you.)
I didn't see more than an inch of my real, unadulterated hair for 17 years.
I rather enjoy being a brunette now.
I've shaved my head once, out of anger. I had about 1/2" of hair left.
I'm an honest-to-goodness sex addict. Not kidding.
I've never been treated for said addiction. I probably should be.
I don't trust doctors. I rather loathe them.
My political preference would be something along the lines of anarchy.
I only drink coffee when it's creamed and sugared to death in ways that would make any coffee connoisseur cringe.
My favorite color is pink, followed closely by black and gray. (Could you tell?)
I know every. single. word. to Walt Disney's Robin Hood and can probably perform the entire thing on command. (Motherhood. Sigh.)
I also know all the words to Rocky Horror Picture Show. Years ago, I listened to the soundtrack every day for almost 6 months.
I don't really care for ice cream.
I'm in my 6th year without cable television. (That explains why I know Robin Hood so well!)
I talk a LOT. I love talking.
However, I hate talking on the phone, so I almost never answer my phone unless He's calling.
I started this blog on March 11, 2008. Originally, this was just a personal place to rant and whine, mostly. Sometime in June, 2010 (maybe?) I decided to open it up a little, and let it get some sun.

So that's me in a nutshell. Carry on.

e[lust] #17

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 12:25:00 +0000

Photo courtesy of Elle from Kink Unleashed

Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #18? Start with the rules, check out the schedule and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

Editor's Note: A little change in how things are done for this edition - you'll notice there are no "Top 3" picks - due in part to the holiday I ended up being extremely short on judges and I didn't have enough for fair voting. So instead, I expanded my "Featured Post". (If you'd like to volunteer to be an occasional judge for e[lust], just email me, Lilly, at questions.e.lust @ gmail.com) Also, please be sure to check out the new summer schedule in effect until the 20th edition.

~ Featured Posts (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Why Pride is Still Important - When someone tells me that they don’t think Pride is necessary, I can’t help but believe that they go through life with tunnel vision. I live in New York where for the most part I can walk around being a big ol’ queen and I’ll make it home alive, but there are people who live in places where they can’t. Even here in New York you’ll get called a faggot from time to time by passing cars or groups of punks, and even here in New York I hear stories of people getting the shit kicked out of them just because they were gay.

Fantasies and Condoms - Our culture has created a narrative in which sex only feels good and looks sexy if no one is protected. We’re all suffering from this narrative, but sex workers are probably suffering the most.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Some days we need a little hope - I encourage you to practice random acts of kindness that could be worthy of inclusion on the site (GivesMeHope.com). Be nice, be caring, let your heart open up just for the sake of bringing someone some happiness or comfort. Do you know how good it feels to just give?

See also: Pleasurists #83 and #84 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

An Anal Adventure

Bound in the Night

Being a Tart

Danger may explode without warning

Found It: Pearls for the Submissive Wife

Morning Rituals

Shoe Slut

(another!) Shoe Slut

Spanking my ass while fucking so he feels every wiggle

Submission is impossible in the absence of humanity

Strip, boy

Swallow Falls

The Trigger

The Beast with Three Backs

Erotic Writing

A long hot day

And then we kissed...

Fucking Mika for the first time

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

Getting Off...On The Road

Katie's First Time

Master Class

My Favourite Waste of Time

Microfantasy Monday, week 84: Addiction

Thunderstorms are Sexy

Teaching Respect (Part 1)

You First

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Adventures in Birth Control

Erotic Awakening: A Swinger’s Comments

Friends With Benefits His Lush Behind!

Getting Started - Hotel Parties

Greetings From The Deep End - Swinging and Openness

How To Have Multiple Orgasms

Mr. Strong

Play Safe. Stay Safe. Get Tested. Be Protected.

Political Cuddling: Asking, Talking, Touching

Reflections on Glass

Something I Wish I'd Had 10 Years Ago

Sex: A required part of the college curriculum

Shades of Grey

Three's Company

Ten Life Lessons I’m Learning from Enslavement

Uncomfortable

Walk of Shut The Fuck Up

Sex News, Interviews, Politics and Humor

Interview with Scarlett Chaos aka Essin'Em

The Media is Not Responsible for Your Poor Body Image

To Shave or Not to Shave

I'll never share my sex toys with you, and here's why.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 14:26:00 +0000

I went to the piercer a while back and got a couple of new piercings. I did everything right: I perused her portfolio of healed piercings, I made sure she used premium quality jewelry, I watched as she changed gloves frequently, and I made sure to watch as she pulled the previously used needles from the bleach solution.

Wait... what? Previously used needles? Bleach solution? Am I fucking crazy?

No, I'm not. My piercer actually used brand new, autoclave sterilized, single use needles on me, just as she does every time she pierces. It's the industry standard. (My bleach solution story was just me proving a point.) Blood-borne pathogens are nothing to fuck around with, as most people know. It's (fairly) common knowledge that you have to be crazy to let a piercer use anything other than a brand new, sterile, single use needle and brand new sterile jewelry in your body. Why, then, is it commonly reported that a used sex toy is capable of being sterilized and shared with a stranger as part of a safer sex experience?

People generally tend to confuse sterile with disinfected, that's why. The ever-helpful Wikipedia explains the difference between the two: "Disinfection does not necessarily kill all microorganisms, especially not resistant bacterial spores; it is less effective than sterilisation, which is an extreme physical and / or chemical process that kills all types of life." There are no degrees of sterilization; an object or substance is either sterile or it's not.

Let's look at two of the most popular methods for cleaning hardy, non-porous sex toys: bleach solution and boiling. Boiling, as a method of sterilization, DOES. NOT. WORK. Boiling does not sterilize, it disinfects. It kills SOME bacteria, viruses, and spores. Some. Not all. Bleach, while far superior to boiling, is still not guaranteed to render a surface completely sterile. There is little direct evidence demonstrating the effectiveness of bleach in preventing Hepatitis transmission and evidence suggests that Hepatitis viruses may survive the bleach method currently used for HIV disinfection. A 1991 Baltimore study illustrated that bleach use does not eliminate HIV risk among drug users, even among those who report using it all the time. Oh, and bleach solution can be inactivated by organic matter. Yep, you read that right. Bleach is inactivated by organic material.

So um... safer sex? I'd say safer sex means keeping your toys to yourself, period. Sure, if you're already having unsafe(r?) sex with someone, share all you like, but until you've committed to sharing fluids with someone, it's better to be safe than sorry.

(If you want to read more some not-terribly-interesting but very informative info on disinfection and sterilization, then this is for you.)

And, just for kicks, I thought I'd showcase a little ignorance in action:

   ☠ FAIL: "If you want to share your non-vibrating toy, or use it with multiple partners, just sterilize by boiling it between each frolic."

   ☠ FAIL: "It would be best for you to only use silicone-based toys (they're hypoallergenic); if it does not use batteries, it can be boiled in hot water for cleaning and sterilizing, so no soap is necessary." (Excuse me? No soap? Yes, I'll take a lovely helping of boiled cuntjuice, please.)

   ☠ FAIL: "Because you can boil silicone, sex toys made from this material can be fully sterilized and are safe to share."

   ☠ FAIL: "You can easily wash your toys with soap and water or boil them in hot water to sterilize completely." (Again... no soap? WTF?)

☠ FAIL: "Silicone can be fully disinfected by boiling it for 3 minutes or by throwing it into the top rack of your dishwasher." (Fully disinfected? Does that mean that once the three minutes is up that it's as disinfected as it's going to be? Cause it SURE isn't sterile after 3 minutes.)

There you have it, boys and girls. I won't be sharing toys with you. And I'm not one bit sorry.

Savior

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 01:19:00 +0000

"It's a shame," He said the other day, "that you don't really have much in the way of old readers."

It's true, I don't. I've only recently promoted my blog at all, and even then only because I thought that someone might be able to take something I've said or felt or struggled with and make sense of it and come out better because of it.

"You've come so far... it's kind of sad you haven't brought anyone with you," He continued.

"I brought you," I said, smiling.

"I brought you," He replied.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah you did."

I wouldn't be where I am without Him, I'd be here. I wouldn't be me. I'd be this.

He is truly my savior. He saw me underneath all the layers of neglect and abuse and sadness and shame. He saw me, and He carefully set about peeling away those layers so that I can be the me that He knows I am. And every day, I shine a little more. Every day, I hold on a little longer. Every day, I'm stronger, braver, smarter, better. Every day, I'm a little more me.

Hump Day Sex Toy Sale Roundup for June 30, 2010

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 14:21:00 +0000

Hump Day should be something to celebrate, and now it is! It's time to banish that midweek boredom with some amazing deals on the goods you've been eyeing, and some you didn't even know you wanted. I've rounded up all the awesome sex toy sales I could find, just for you, so get 'em while they're hot!

Babeland:
★ Save up to 45% at the Spring Cleaning Sale! All items are available while supplies last, so get 'em quick!

eXtreme Restraints:
★ Get a free plug or free anal beads with purchase of $69 or more!
★ Save 20% or more on the daily special!
★ Save big on Clearance items!

Fascinations:
★ FREE SHIPPING on orders $49 and up, plus all orders get a FREE GIFT!
★ Shop the huge sale section! Save on hundreds of products!

Good Vibrations:
★ FREE SHIPPING on orders $60 and up for pride month! Valid Through 6/30/10.
★ Save on bestsellers in the sale section!

Liberator:
★ Take an additional 15% off your purchase (including sale-priced merchandise!) by using code MORE at checkout. Limited time offer!
★ Bonus Love Artist Gift with orders over $100!
★ In the Special Offers area, you'll find these great deals:
   Save 25% off lingerie
   Save 30% off silk sheets
   Save 25% on select toys
   Get a FREE Wedge with Scoop Purchase
   Save 30% on Equus
   Save $56 on the Escape moisture-proof pad
   Save 20% Off Books & DVDs
   Save 50% off all pjur lubes
   Save $75 on Esse
   Save 20% on Zeppelin

Pink Cherry:
★ Get a whopping 20% OFF already low prices by using code SUMMER at checkout.
★ FREE SHIPPING on orders over $79.

Play Passions:
★ In the sale section, you'll get 15% off the entire INCOQNITO line! Limited time offer.

Stockroom:
★ Save at least 20% by taking advantage of the Daily Special!
★ Get a FREE GIFT with purchase of $30 or more!

Tickle:
★ EVERYTHING'S on sale! Save BIG with up to 30% off of favorites like the Hitachi Magic Wand, the Pink Lady Super Ribbed Fleshlight, and the njoy Pure Wand, and manufacturers like Lelo, Fun Factory, njoy and Tantus.

VibeReview:
★ FREE SHIPPING on orders over $100!
★ Markdowns are all over the site, so keep your eyes peeled!

Vibrator.com:
★ FREE SHIPPING on orders over $75!

These sales are all valid as of 6/30/10. No guarantees on their future validity.

Submission is impossible in the absence of humanity.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 18:56:00 +0000

This morning, this was waiting for me in my feed reader:

(Excerpted From Can you?)

My need to submit is sometimes a bit of a curse, because it takes someone strong … much stronger than me … to tap into that aspect of my personality and completely remove my brain from the equation. As an ex-boyfriend once said to me, “Don’t you ever get tired of that brain of your being on all the time?” Because it is. All … the … time.

Can you remove that factor? Can you reduce me to a creature of such basic raw need that I become purely reactive? Can you stop making me think? Many think they can. A few are even sure of it.

So far, they’ve all been wrong. Because, eventually, their ability to dominate me cracks a tiny bit somewhere, and they allow me to dictate the terms of something. It could be something tiny, but the second that line is crossed, the very instant I feel that I am in control, I’m the one running things, even if it is fleeting, the death knell begins.

I doubt I’ll ever completely belong to anyone. Nobody is inviolate. Nobody can maintain that sort of control all the time, especially when I’m constantly looking for the fissures.

But oh, how I wish. I just want to sink into someone and just be.

This made SO much sense to me that I ended up leaving a comment that was pretty much a whole blog post in itself:

Oh. My. GOD. I could have written that. I know exactly what you mean.

The place that I’ve been slowly coming to in recent months is this:

There is a part of me that is dominant and bratty and terrible and wants control of things, and that part will look for cracks and weak spots in someone else and try to find ways to exploit them. For me, it’s a result of being abused and not wanting to experience that lapse of control again.

However, the other part of me wants someone to dominate me just the way you mentioned, until I don’t think anymore. But honestly? That’s not possible. Everyone has cracks and weak spots, and that’s what makes them human. I don’t want an emotionless robot. I want to be with someone who I can love and who can love me. And the only way that love is valid is if we’re accepting each other for who we are, weak spots and all.

There was a time, months ago, when I was pretty sure that my owner’s weak spots would destroy my desire to submit to Him. But I’ve found that the opposite is true. The more I accept His flaws and the ways that He is human, the more I love Him and want to submit to Him. I just wasn’t ready, previously, to let myself submit fully to anyone, so I was always looking for that weak spot as a way out. Submitting fully to someone long-term like that… it’s a terribly scary thing. Sometimes my brain still tries to convince me that I’m not long-term safe with Him, and I freak out a little, but as He accepts me through even that, I realize that I’m as safe as I could ever be, and I settle down.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is… there really is no perfect, flawless person, and if there was, you wouldn’t want them anyway. Part of the beauty of submission is that when you submit, you’re doing what’s arguably the scariest thing in the world, and just like with any other scary thing, surviving it adds a tremendous value to your life and who you are as a person.

It’s a process, to be sure, and I certainly don’t have it all figured out. I’m 18 months in and almost as nervous some days as I was at the beginning. But I’m better now than I was. For the rest of my life, I’ll be more than I was because of this experience, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I'm chalking up my sudden expressiveness today to the talk I had with Him last night. He called me into His room and snuggled me against Him like He always does, and stroked my hair while we talked about my last post. He told me that I was being unfair to both of us in it, and He was right. The part that I didn't manage to convey, or even acknowledge inside myself as I wrote that, was that He's a human person. Beyond that, He's a healthy human person.

When I like something, I want it over and over and over. When I don't have it, I plan and scheme about how to get it. (Right now, I'm totally planning to get an iced vanilla latte in the very near future.) He's not like that. He can like something and not feel a burning need to have it 24/7. Once He has it, He can be satisfied and not feel like He needs more of it. Me.... as soon as it's finished, I'm trying to get more. I'm just kind of fucked up that way.

He explained that His desire for something is based on lots of factors, and the issue of when and how He wants to play with me is largely dependent on both how He's physically feeling AND how He's emotionally feeling. If we've recently been through something kind of emotionally taxing, and we do on a fairly regular basis (oh, the joys of trying to have a reasonable relationship with an emotionally unhealthy person!) then He's just not in a place where He desires the kind of play that I want. The interactions that He has with me are very emotionally-driven in a way that I don't fully understand.

He is, and always has been, very adamant that any interaction between us be genuine. He says that if He were to do something just because I like it, disregarding His personal feelings on it, that it would have a deep negative impact on our relationship. I don't disagree. If I thought that He was doing things just to placate me, I'd never be able to rest easy in the knowledge that He wanted every bit of me that He took. It's important to me to know that I'm genuinely wanted.

I love Him because He's human. I wouldn't want Him any other way.

On why I think patience isn't always the best thing

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 16:38:00 +0000

He tells me that I should be patient and just enjoy things as they are. If I don't get what I want, and I'm upset, that's always the answer. "Be patient. Enjoy what you have. There's always time to try again."

I want to have sex with Him. I want to spend time having sex that involves touching and kissing and playing and not just wham-bam fucking, or worse, no fucking at all. But, lots of the time - LOTS of the time - there are other things that He's doing, or He's too tired from doing other things. Then He doesn't have the physical or mental energy to give me what I want. And it makes me sad. So He tells me, "Be patient. Enjoy what you have. There's always time to try again."

The problem, though, is that I don't want to be something that's left for another time. And truthfully? Life's short. There's NOT always another time to try again. Every moment is precious. Every opportunity is special, because you never know when you won't have that chance again. So to tell me to be patient, to wait... He might as well be telling me that I'm not important enough to be a priority.

Sure, I understand being patient. I understand needing to just enjoy what I have. If I felt like He was giving me the best He had, then that would make sense. But it doesn't feel like that. It feels like He's asking me to settle for second best, and to be patient and wait until He wants to give me more. Every encounter we have involves Him getting off and drifting happily to sleep, and me... not. And instead of working out how I can be more comfortable and more satisfied, we go through the same thing again and again: "Be patient. Enjoy what you have. There's always time to try again."

Don't get me wrong: Things have been slowly getting better. He's been making some decent progress in the figuring out how to give me what I need department. And we do have sex sometimes now where I don't freak out on Him afterward. The part that bothers me is that I wish that the really good stuff wasn't only once every few weeks or so. It just makes the wham-bam sex that much more frustrating.

After A While

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 18:56:00 +0000

He sent me this poem a little over a year ago. At the time, I knew, logically, what it meant. Of course these things are true. But... just because I knew they were true doesn't mean they made sense. But now, a year later, they seem... truer. Firmer. More sensible. More reasonable. They don't all make sense, yet. But... I'm learning.

After A While

After a while you learn
The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't always mean security.

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child

And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight

After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers

And you learn
That you really can endure
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn
With every good bye you learn.

-Veronica A. Shoffstall

Sadness

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 18:29:00 +0000

I'm continuing to tie up the loose ends in getting my blog all polished up. I just redid my blogroll, since it somehow disappeared during the transition to my own domain. I noticed, as I was adding the links back, that several of my favorite bloggers have either deleted their blogs or gone private. Keep in mind that I do a lot of reading and not so much interacting, so it's not like these bloggers know who I am. I also read so many different blogs that it sometimes takes me a while before I realize that I haven't seen an update from someone in a while. Despite not knowing these people, I am saddened a little to see that they are no longer (at least for now) contributing. I know that that's the way things go, but it's disheartening nonetheless.

Busy day!

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 23:46:00 +0000

So I've decided to try and get into the toy affiliate/reviewer game. I mean, who doesn't love extra money and schwag? I've added a few affiliate banners on the right sidebar, and I have a few more affiliate program signups in the works. I also got myself a new Twitter account complete with awesome sidebar widget, joined WeFollow, and followed a few toy retailers. And! I bought my own domain! DepravityDuJour.com is now mine. I'll be whoring myself out like a pro in a few days, just you wait and see.

AND!! I bought a couple new toys! I can't even tell you how long I've been putting this off. Like, forever. I'm so ashamed. But I found some SWEEEET deals that were just too good to pass up.

I picked up the Tantus Rascal o2 from the Tantus closeout section. With a coupon code I scored online plus their offer of $2.50 off, I grabbed it for $27 shipped. Yeah, you read that right. It retails at some sites for upward of $80, and I got it for $27. Thanks, Tantus!!

I also picked up the njoy Pure Wand for only $69, courtesy of Tickle. With coupon code "DiscoverTickle" offering 10% off, and the free shipping, I was SET! (I don't know at what price the shipping switches to free, but my $69 purchase qualified.) The Pure Wand is generally upwards of $85, and I've seen it for as much as $115.

Sooo.... yay me! The last 24 hours have been pretty flippin' sweet.

Edit: Ouch. The Blogger transition process ate my blogroll. That's gonna take me a hot minute to redo. Sigh.

Updatey things

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 20:15:00 +0000

He lifted the ban sometime last week. I can not even tell you how happy this makes me. So far we've had sex twice and I haven't freaked out yet. That's a really big deal. And! I was normal last night. I was ME last night. That is a Big. Fucking. Deal.

* * *

Last night I had so much fun with Him! I've kind of been stuck in something of a rut with Him, because He doesn't really provide me much direction when it comes to sexual things. Although I LOVELOVELOVE trying new and different and occasionally edgy things, I don't feel like I'm free to do as I please (and for good reason, I suppose) so I can't just change things up whenever I like. Last night, though, I was feeling particularly brave and just a tad bratty, so I decided that we'd play how I wanted to. I grabbed a bottle of almond oil from my room (it's my favorite skin moisturizer) and slicked up His cock and had a great time just stroking Him and kissing Him and listening to His breathing and the little pleasure sounds He made. I LOVE that stuff. I love knowing I please Him. I love knowing that He's swimming in that sea of delicious sensation and I'm there with Him. I love how open He is with me then. He's like a whole different person sometimes.

I'm more connected to Him than I have ever been to anyone else. I swear that last night, I could feel Him - like, on some level, I could experience what He was experiencing. It was like He wasn't just Him anymore, He was US. It was completely awesome. I don't even know how to explain it except to say that it felt like some crazy energy was flowing from Him into me, carrying with it everything He felt. When He said that I was going to make Him cum, I remember thinking that He didn't have to say that because I already knew.

* * *

Oh, and anal sex? I'm really starting to see its potential. His cock in my ass is oh-my-god good. Just... wow.

Oh Holy Christ.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 05:59:00 +0000

There's a song by Garth Brooks about a woman who's in love with a man who's in love with a game. I just realized my life is that song. I spend every day waiting for Him to have time and energy for me while He spends hours every day online, reading forums and watching videos about his sport of choice, in addition to the hours He spends training. He spends multiple hours every day on the Internet reading about a game, and He might spend one hour a month with His fingers inside me. Suddenly, all my previous freaking out makes a little more sense.

Ouch.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 05:35:00 +0000

If He wanted to, He would. He's told me that about a number of topics. If He wants to, He will.

Days like today, I feel like I don't matter. Like, "Oh sure, I'd love to play with you if I had more time or energy, but I don't." When something matters, one makes time. I feel like I make an effort every day to be available and ready for whatever He wants (and believe me, that involves a lot more effort than one might think) and consistently, my efforts go seemingly unnoticed. I do my best to make time, and I don't feel like it's reciprocated.

Take tonight, for example. He's known that I've been on edge for days. It's that time of the month when nature is doing its damndest to get me knocked up, and I'm going crazy. He went out tonight with friends, mentioning that He wouldn't be too late. The whole time He was out, my mind was working overtime, thinking about Him. I took care to make myself as fresh and soft and smooth as possible, and I was thrilled when He pulled up just as I settled into bed. He was tired, though. And He had to get up for a meeting in the morning. Both perfectly good excuses, but excuses nonetheless. So I'm horny as fuck and trying SO HARD to be good and He's telling me that He's so tired and headed to bed, and then I can't even think anymore because everything is all wrong and I have no idea when He'll find the time and energy to play and goddammit, I have needs and I hate rejection and if this isn't rejection then I don't know what is. So of course my brain is just pounding with "need something to fix this, need to fuck, need to fuck, that will fix this, SOMEBODY FUCKING FIX THIS" and I'm surprised I let Him leave my room wihtout a fight.

He's going to argue that this isn't rejection, but it is. I'm in last place behind work and kids and martial arts and everything else. All of that gets His energy, and there's none left for playing with me.

If He wanted to, He would, but He rarely does. That's rejection to me. And it stings.

Wipin' the sleep from my eyes

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Tue, 25 May 2010 12:15:00 +0000

I don't usually have super vivid dreams. I usually wake up remembering little, if any, detail about my dreams. Not this morning, though. This morning, when my alarm went off, I had been dreaming the following:

I had been attending some sort of school, and in order to graduate, students had to pass a test. My fellow students and I were to show up at a specified location for this test, and although a start time wasn't specified, the test was to be completed by a specific time. Almost all the other students has shown up much earlier than I had, as I and a group of 4 others were the last to arrive. I remember running across a large field, in a hurry to get to the test location, but being strangely confident that I would be able to pass the test easily. I never really have trouble with tests.

This test, however, was different. We were given a set of Lego blocks and asked to make specific models out of them. They could be as complex or as simple as we wanted, as long as it was clear to the test authorities what the model was. Our first assignment was to make a burning building. I watched as one of the latecomers who arrived with me lit up with an idea and quickly began building a small yet perfectly passable model, and the others quickly followed. (The students were allowed to watch each other and copy each other's designs, although they were not allowed to talk to each other or give instructions on how to replicate what they had created.)

I started on my model, only to quickly realize that I had no idea how to put the pieces together to create what I needed to. I was getting frustrated, adding, removing and re-arranging pieces, but still my model failed to look anything like the other student's designs, and it certainly failed to convey the intended idea. Time kept ticking by, and I grew more frustrated by the second, knowing full well that I was on a tight deadline and there was a lot riding on passing the test.

The knowledge that I had waited too long, that I had somehow fucked around and wasted the time that I should have been diligently working on this test, pressed down on me like a lead weight. It made it all that much harder to concentrate on getting my assignment done correctly. I watched with dismay as the other students completed their first task and moved on to the second one. I looked up from my group to see a guy across the room building the most intricate and amazing Lego creation I had ever seen. It was so detailed and so huge, and he was building it so fast! I asked the instructor if we were really expected to create something like that, and was told that no, our models didn't have to be that detailed, that that boy just clearly had a knack for such things.

Tick, tick, tick. Time kept creeping forward, and I kept failing miserably at my task, cursing myself for not having shown up earlier, for not being able to do what was obviously simple for the other students.

Somewhere about that point, I woke up.

Why is this at all relevant, you ask?

I told Him last night that I don't feel normal. I initially came to Him asking how we could figure out why I freak out the way I do, and I ended up realizing during our conversation that a big part of the reason it happens is because I don't feel normal. I feel like things aren't easy and simple for me like they should be. A WHOLE LOT of sexual things that (as I understand humanity) feel good and are pleasurable for most people, are for me, at the very least, heavily paired with frustration - IF they feel good at all. I feel like I'm broken. Feeling that way causes me to get so frustrated and angry that I'd do anything to just climb outside of my skin and be someone else. So when things don't go the way I want them to, I just lose it.

He says He sees me changing. He says I'm not the same me I used to be. I'm not so easily convinced. I feel like I still freak out all the time, I feel like I still have most of the same hangups I had before, and I still feel like there's something that's keeping me from relaxing and just enjoying being sexual with Him. Maybe I should say that in reverse: I feel like I can't relax, I feel like I have pretty much all the same hangups I had, and I feel like I freak out all the time.

He tells me that I just need to learn to be comfortable. I have NO IDEA how to do that. None at all. I have looked at every possible scenario and I can't see any way to get out of this. I'm frustrated because I feel uncomfortable, and then I feel uncomfortable (and start flipping out) because I'm frustrated. (Before anyone suggests "masturbate more!" as a helpful tip, I should mention that no, that's not the answer, because masturbating is easily as frustrating as anything else.)

Before I went to bed, I told Him that my biggest fear is that I won't be able to be what He wants, and eventually He will tire of trying to help me and just give up. I don't want to drive Him away with my craziness. I need to get straightened out before He tires of me. I want Him to feel like His efforts have paid off. I can't be this fucked up for long, because He'll get sick of me.

That weird dream? Totally about actual life stuff. Creepy.

O trespass sweetly urged

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sat, 22 May 2010 05:19:00 +0000

There's a moment when something changes. A moment of nothing becomes a moment of something. Time slows down, lips get closer, and you live a small eternity of ohmygodwe'regoingtokiss before you're dragged under by an ocean of softness and warmth and ohyes that's as powerful as a hurricane and as delicate as a sigh. The heady rush that comes from realizing that this is your reality, from the connection that is the touching of souls mirrored by the touching of lips, is like the sweetest, purest drug, perfect in it's ability to at once alter everything and nothing at all.

Moments like this have no path, they are themselves the beginning and the end, the journey and the destination. All that matters is the pounding of hearts and the catch of breath and the energy flowing in you and through you. There is no existence outside of this.

In this moment, you are more than you were. Before, there was distance, now, there is union. Now, there is here and this where previously you did not have here and this, you were not here and this. You are theirs, and they are yours. Once two, now one. One breath, one life, one energy. Action and reaction, ache and joyous celebration, weave together, indistinguishable.

Because I can't just ever be normal.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Sat, 22 May 2010 03:02:00 +0000

Sometimes I'm pretty sure that I'm way too fucked up to ever be normal. This is one of those times. I have my moments, too, where I'm sure that I'm a little better and a little more healthy every day, but man... the more I look, the more shit I see, and the more it looks like I have the most ginormous of insurmountable mountains in between me and whatever "normal" or "healthy" is.

He and I have not had sex in weeks. After the bad thing I did, things were different. He hasn't actually explained it, but I'm guessing that He lost some trust in me, and I hurt Him, and that translates into Him not being ready for the emotional intimacy of sex. Or whatever. I don't understand that, because sex isn't like that for me. Anyway. Despite the fact that I freak the fuck out 9 out of 10 times we have sex, I miss it. I don't know why, but I do. I mean, sometimes it feels nice during, but the fucking horrible drop afterward far outweighs any good feelings I had about it. But... I don't know. I miss it. I miss something. I miss looking forward to it. I miss the idea that maybe soon we'll do something physical together that I enjoy.

So I've been thinking a lot over the last few weeks, and it's occurred to me that while I do miss parts of it, I don't miss the freaking out, and I don't miss the disappointment of always feeling like I'm not getting what I want. In some ways, I'm getting what I want right now - and that's for everyone to leave me alone and not touch me and not look at me and not fuck me and not make me do things that make me sad and angry and angsty. I mean, I DO want to have sex, just not sex like any I've ever had. It's always been fucked up and wrong. Always. Even with Him.

The more I think about having sex with Him - the sex we had, that is - the more I realize that I can't go back there. Not like that. I can't just jump back into where we were whenever He's emotionally straightened out. I just can't. I'm just too fragile, and that pisses me off to no end. I want things to be simple, and they aren't. I want things to be easy, but they aren't. I want sex to be pleasant, but it isn't. And most of all, I want Him to want the things I want, to want to do the things I want to do, and I don't think He does. So the more I think about sex with Him, the more frustrated I get, because I'm pretty damn sure that He and I are quite incompatible, at least at this point. I'm too fucked up, and there are certain things that He's very particular about that play HARD on exactly the places that are the most difficult for me. I worry that we're kind of at a stalemate, with Him not being able to get through to me because He shows little or no interest in the things that would most easily, uh... unlock me, and me not being able to be comfortable with the way He wants things because of all my hangups. And, strangely, the more I think about having sex with Him, the more pissed off I get, because there are things I want and I don't get them and I don't think I ever will (from Him or otherwise) and I don't want to play a game I can't ever win... which then comes back to me appreciating just having everyone leave me alone.

And really, the more I think about what it is that I want, the more I realize that it's basically unachievable, because what I want - what I really want, at the very base of everything - is to go back to a place where I didn't have hate and rage and angst, where it was just nice when a boy kissed me or touched me. I have a combined total of like 7 months or so of experiences where it just genuinely felt really nice to be with and be kissed and touched by someone of the opposite sex. And aside from being raped by one of those someones, there wasn't any actual sex. I remember what it was like to just be easy, to just enjoy things, to not worry about what was or wasn't going to happen. And then, just like that, it was gone. The simple easiness was gone, and things were complicated and scary and frustrating and they've never straightened out and everything has been fucked up for 16 years. Chew on that for a moment. Nothing sexual has been easy for me for 16 fucking years. Fucking sex hasn't ever been right. EVER.

See, now I'm all angry again. I want to hit something, throw something, scratch and bite and spit and scream and throw the mother of all tantrums. I have to get this out somewhere or I'm going to fucking explode. I don't mean something fucking stupid like writing or hitting a pillow or something, either. I mean I genuinely need to fucking scream and fight and fight and FIGHT until I'm too tired to fight anymore, and then have someone hold me and soothe me and remind me that everything's OK. I tried to explain this to Him today, and I couldn't make it make sense, and He wouldn't talk about it because He wasn't in the right frame of mind and all that made it even worse. I mean, how does one go about telling someone "I genuinely need to beat on someone and you're the only someone I have available... and I need you to truly fight me back, and then make me feel better"? I still don't know how to explain it. I don't want to hurt Him, because I love Him tremendously and I'd never want Him hurt, least of all by me, but at the same time... He represents, at this moment, everything fucked up that has happened for the last 16 years. Yes, I know that He didn't personally commit some crime against me, but everything He is and does brings it all back again and again and I don't know how to separate things anymore. I think about having sex with Him and it makes half of me want to fucking attack Him and then the other half of me wants to cry.

So yeah... fuck.

Maybe we're in an alternate universe or something.

noreply@blogger.com (maia stasia) — Thu, 20 May 2010 04:09:00 +0000

This is strange, even for me. Today, I'll be featuring the writing of a guest blogger: me. Yeah, you heard that right. Specifically, black hole alter-me. She's got a lot to say, and it's kind of time she got to say it. So... here.

First of all, I just want to say that I'm not bad. Well, I'm not all bad. I have a very specific purpose, and for the most part I do my job well. I don't know how or when I showed up, but I do know why. I'm here to protect the little one, the other part of me, the one that needs someone to stick up for her when she can't stick up for herself. I've always been fiercely protective of the ones we love, and this is no different. I'm here to protect her, and I do my best to do just that. As a big sister and a mother, my role is the same: to fight for those too fragile to fight for themselves. Yes, I'm filled with hate and rage, but it's warranted. It's not for nothing. My rage isn't baseless, it's a response to injustice, a reaction to a threat. It means something. It fucking means something. I can't just sit by and watch her get hurt. So I don't.

I take her place, and I handle what she can't. I slip in quietly and take her place when she's in danger, and nobody's any the wiser. I play the game that she's too fragile and innocent to play, but that she somehow never ceases to find herself in. She trusts people way too easily. She loves people when they don't deserve it. And in doing so, she sets herself up for way too much hurt, both physical and emotional. So that's why I'm here: I take the abuse, the frustration, the pain, the injustice, so that she doesn't have to. Do I resent this job? Yes, very much. I wish I didn't have to be here, didn't have to do this. But I do.

I wish I could do it better. I know I do a lot of things wrong. I have a hair trigger and I'm all hate and vitriol and rage and angst. And I have to control things. I need to control things, that's why I'm here. If I put on a happy face and give what someone's asking for, neither of us gets hurt. If I don't, I'll let her down, and I can't let that happen. She couldn't handle it. She'd crack. I know things that she doesn't. I see things she can't see. I'm older, wiser, more experienced. She's just a little girl.

She's just a little girl. And that... that is why I'm filled with such fury. She's just a little girl, for fuck's sake. What did she ever do to anyone? Why should she have to take such shit from people? Why? Why should she have to be abused and humiliated and used and forced and fucking VIOLATED? What the fuck did she ever fucking do to deserve that? I'll tell you: NOTHING. Not a goddamn motherfucking thing. All she ever did was give the best she fucking had, and it's never been good enough for ANYONE. There is no reason on this planet why such a sweet little girl should have people telling her she's not good enough and treating her like a disposable, worthless piece of trash and shoving things inside her while she's protesting and pleading for them to stop. No motherfucking reason. Ever. That is the very deepest form of violation possible - for someone to invade your body, your sacred, personal space. And people fucking did that to her and just to think about it makes me fucking seethe with rage. There are no words to even describe what that does to someone.

So here I am. I recognize my physical weaknesses, and I've learned to take control where I can get it. It's mental, mostly, but when I look at it through a lens of "I make someone do this thing or feel that way" then it's almost like I like my job. Almost. I have fought against being controlled for as long as I've existed, and sadly, that spills over quite thoroughly into the sexual satisfaction arena. The basic idea behind my very existence is "you might have me, but you'll never HAVE me." I give my control to no one. And of course, that means that I never relax enough to even think about getting off. Well, OK, I think about it. A lot, actually. And I'm pissed off as fuck that I have to do all the work and reap none of the benefits. I work and I work and I fucking work to make other people happy, but my very nature ensures that I'll never be rewarded for it.

You'd be furious too, if you were in my shoes.