My doctor sprung a prostate exam on me today.

“It is completely optional,” she said, her eyes glazed with maniacal glee as she snapped the exam gloves in place.

Like a deer in the headlights, I mustered a shaky smile. “Let’s save that until next time I see you,” my lips said while my brain said, Hasta la vista, baby.

“We highly recommend it. Look,” she said, wiggling her right index finger in my face. “It’s better to have a female do it; we have smaller fingers.”

“But aren’t you supposed to be over 50 before you have to do this sh… stuff?” I pleaded with her with my biggest puppy-dog eyes.

“No, that’s the colonoscopy.

Colonoscopy?!

“We do the prostate exam over age 40,” she continued while absent-mindedly lubing up her glove-clad finger. Obviously she was confident in getting her way with me.

Optional, my, uh, ass…

“But, but, but…”

“It’ll be over in a second. Pull down your pants and bend over the exam table.”

I reluctantly complied. Bent over, I looked back at her with a nervous grin. “Aren’t you going to take me to dinner first?”

“Doesn’t work that way,” I think she responded. I can’t be sure, though, because I was busy squealing like a little girl.

Sigh. When I woke up this morning, getting a finger up my business was most definitely not on my to-do list…

This morning while trying to wake up, nursing an 8-shot espresso that GentleSpirit so expertly made for me, I got the rest of the wake-up jolt I needed from her discovering me on Rori’s (of Between My Sheets) Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2010 list.

There was quite the whooping and hollering and carrying on while I was sitting there watching the spectacle in stunned silence. Yeah, I’m the quiet type, alright.

I see some dear friends on that list; the lovely Iona, my little kitten Mistress Arabella, and the incredibly warm-hearted Oatmeal Girl. Congratulations! Next year, I hope to see the one and only, the incredible painter-with-words, my beautiful girl, GentleSpirit on that list as well.

GentleSpirit is so proud of me and she’s spent the day looking at me, starstruck. She even made me fancy mashed potatoes for lunch.

Thank you, whomever you are, for nominating me. And thank you, judges, for voting me onto the list.

This continues from where we left off in Love letters: The second day.

Dreamwalker:

The email I sent you last night was still in the outbox of my email program this morning. It sent as soon as I quit the program and restarted it. I’m sorry, sweet GentleSpirit, for being a klutz and not verifying that it actually sent.

I hope you will have a great day today.

GentleSpirit:

Dearest Dreamwalker,

You are everything that is good and kind. You never need to say sorry to me about anything. You have been a little miracle in my life, have wrapped your hands around my heart, and given it a beautiful warm hug and you make me feel like everything is going to be okay.

Dreamwalker:

Sweet GentleSpirit,

It’s gratifying for me that you feel safe enough to tell me things you haven’t even really contemplated yourself. This is the best reward I can ever receive for opening up myself and telling the world about what is going on inside me. I enjoy listening to you and I feel a connection to you too. You have no idea how refreshing it is to talk to someone who expresses themselves as well as you do in writing. And manages to convey what is going on inside. I enjoy this.

Thank you for explaining how you see the difference between strong men and controlling men. Your description helped setting off a light bulb in my head about the whole thing and I appreciate that. Although the men you call “controlling” I would call “juvenile.”

Just curious; how old have your partners been? Does age factor in or is it just a personality thing?

It is interesting that you have never chosen anyone in your life. I’m not entirely sure why yet, but I know it is significant. You really have never gone after a man? Ever?

One would think that the way you react when approached, feeling invaded, would mean that you would prefer to do the approaching instead. Then again, I imagine that is something that goes against your grain. So you wind up in a sort of limbo.

Still, once they “wore you down,” did you feel open and safe and at home, at least until they showed themselves to be controlling rather than strong?

I’d like to know why you have always shied away from men. Is there something going on or did something happen to make it so? Or are you just generally skittish?

Yes, I read the comment you left for me on “Is Submission a Gift.” I suppose the battle has already gone on for two weeks then. Grins. Good girl. It’s a huge leap to make and nobody has to be braver and stronger than the submissive woman who is coming to terms with her longings and desires. I am here to help you in any way I can but I am also here to admire the display. You have some interesting times ahead.

It is true that it is so simple for some and deathly scary for others. Unfortunately, it appears that you fall into the second camp. On the other hand, your sense of accomplishment and the freedom you will feel will be that much stronger, you will feel it that much keener. It all balances out in the end.

You have told me about your fear but I still feel like I don’t have a grasp on it. Can you tell me what exactly is the most frightful for you? Is it that you’d risk your partner rejecting you and thinking that you are strange? Is it that you are afraid to relive the experience with your ex? Or is it something else?

I know so very well what you say about normal sex. The last few years before I said I wanted a divorce I could take it less and less. I checked out just like you. I can’t fantasize or think about something else during sex, so I just shut down. I had to because if I allowed myself to feel anything good, my hands would do things, I would do things… forbidden things. Scary things. So I grew colder and colder, my heart became harder and harder.

The interesting thing is that since I came out to myself and to the world, I thawed up more than I have ever been before. I am more present now, more loving, more tender if you would believe that, more open and vulnerable, more affectionate. It’s because I get to express what I feel and express it in ways that I understand. My love comes with bruises and aches and sometimes blinding pain, but that blinding pain and those aches and bruises also come with love. In a relationship with me, there is no demarcation between them.

That doesn’t happen all the time, of course. Sometimes I am simply cuddly and want to snuggle while watching a movie. On the other hand, sometimes I am gnarly and I’ll want to play “mad scientist.” Whenever you see me in goggles, a rubber apron and rubber gloves, carrying a shoehorn and a funnel, you’d better resign yourself to be walking funny for a few days. Just sayin’. He he.

I was just kidding about the last part. I don’t own an apron.

I’ve weathered some pretty intense PTSD storms (not my own) and I’ve seen a lot so please define for me what “meltdown” means to you before I answer your question about it.

I don’t think you are burdensome at all and I am not disturbed in the least by your darkness; I only want to help. Besides, I have quite a bit of darkness myself. I’m sure I can help if you allow me to. I imagine just talking about it helps quite a bit. As for any gratitude; take me out for pie one day and we’ll call it even.

And thank you for saying that I am the monster that you’d like under your bed. That’s one of the sweetest things I have heard in a long time. And I can’t imagine not wanting to be your friend, just so you know.

GentleSpirit:

Hi Dreamwalker,

Oh I love reading your emails, I feel very calm inside. I feel so thankful and lucky to have you here, someday I will be able to repay your kindness to me. I know you will say there is no need, and I feel that from you, but then maybe I will be able to pay it forward and help someone else. Pie? No problem, I would love to meet you and you are not a million miles away either.…Someday, definitely.

Anyway, the picture I said was my favorite was my favorite because of your smile. There’s nothing wrong with your smile. In fact, it is lovely. And if it were to be a little uneven, that is just icing on the cake. If I wanted Barbie I could buy her at Toys R Us. An uneven smile would be a trademark, something for a lover to imprint on. I know it’s a big deal to you but, I’m sorry, I’d just think it was cute. And I don’t see the unevenness in the picture.

It’s not so noticeable in that pic, or it would have been deleted (lol). You are very sweet to say you like my smile, thank you.

Yes, I can definitely see you needing someone to unexpectedly pinch your nipples or grab you by the hair when you start obsessing over things. It could be quite the fun “reboot.”

This idea totally and completely turns me on.

I know this is not fun for you and although I try to make light of the situation, I am not making light of how you are feeling. To a certain degree, I know how impossible it is to stop those thought, that voice in your head. And to a greater degree, I can imagine. Being a sadist, I don’t do sympathy very well but I’m pretty good at empathy. When it comes to follow along with your emotions, I have incredible stamina and attention-span.

Dreamwalker, I know you are not making light, I have a great sense of humor and I am quite funny too. In person, I would keep you laughing. I like to laugh as much as I can although you wouldn’t know that because I have been focused on fixing myself and figuring myself out. I just am a bit lost right now.

No, nobody could torture you more than those dark thoughts. And my heart keeps breaking for you, GentleSpirit. You need so much to have someone reach into you and help pull out those thoughts while you push from the inside. I can’t even imagine how much of a relief it would be to have that help, to have a method to quiet the darkness.

To have someone do the same with your thoughts and emotions as he does to your head, holding it securely between two strong hands and not letting you move as he takes a kiss. Imagine those two strong hands reaching into you and keeping your mind captive in the same way; no matter how much it wants to jump around in circles and bounce off the walls, there is nothing it can do because it is securely held by his attention.

This is beautiful, I wish, hope, dream… someday… Ahh, you understand me so so well. This is exactly what I need, the surrender that I lust for.

To have a stronger, more insistent, more demanding voice drown out the one in the back of your head. To follow the voice on the outside that is even more greedy for your attention, perhaps more needy for your attention, and feels more entitled to your attention, than the dark voice inside you.

This is who I need to find, who I have been searching for, I just question will I know who that person is or get involved and months later be disappointed.

You said that you belong to those thoughts, that they don’t belong to you. I understand now the driving force behind your need to surrender; until you find someone else to belong to, you will continue to belong to those thoughts.

You are like the flag on the rope in a tug-of-war; it’s just that right now there is nobody on the other side pulling you away from the darkness. You need someone to pick up the rope and start pulling you away from the darkness, someone stronger, more arrogant in his entitlement to you, greedier, more stubborn, more possessive than the force that is pulling on you exclusively now.

In some ways I feel strong, but then there are parts of me that are not. I do fully believe I have a deeply submissive nature, since I was born, probably. I have always wanted to please everyone close to me.

My moments of joy almost always come from seeing someone I care for happy and feeling I may have contributed in some way to their happiness. I think it is why I developed my humor, it brings me immense warmth and satisfaction when those I care for are happy and I live for those times.

Equally, it causes me anxiety and I feel distressed when I see someone I care for unhappy, and when it’s someone I love, I feel tremendous pain if I have in any way been the reason for their dissatisfaction or hurt.

I just really feel the need for someone to be strong enough to not abuse that part of me, and accept my nature graciously, but also know and be willing to give me back what I need in return.

My desire to please and comply outweighs the power of my dark thoughts, so if I could just find that missing link, then I feel I would live in peace and happiness. If I were not allowed to engage the devil, I wouldn’t do it. You said it better than I did.

I just think that most men would prefer a challenge and don’t want someone to control, or possess. I don’t know how to be a challenge so conventional relationships just don’t work for me.

I need to set my Soul free, I need to be released from the Master I serve now.

In surrender, I become free.

The truth is, people do really love me and are very attracted to me (not sexually, but my energy).

Why not sexually? Why did you feel the need to make that distinction?

The context of what I was describing was that many people feel very attracted to me, women, men, kids. They are attracted to my personality, probably because I give them 100% of my attention, they feel special because I am very open with people… on the surface.

Nobody knows what lies beneath the surface though, and I really mean nobody (except you, you obviously don’t know all of me, but you know more than anyone else on this planet).

Sexually, I do not want to come off as an arrogant person because I am not at all. I do believe, though, I have a very strong sexual energy. I don’t want that and again it scares me because I can get very intense reactions from men that I do not ask for or welcome.

It is a primal energy I believe, I have been called a Femme Fatale more than a few times in my life and I don’t think I am this at all, nor do I want to be. In fact that is quite the opposite as the way I identify with myself.

I don’t know where this comes from, I am not projecting it because I don’t like this attention, to the point that I have put on weight to deter it when I can’t handle it, or when I have had to deal with grief in relationships.

The funny thing is in every relationship I have ever been in I have ALWAYS been accused of being unfaithful, which has cut me to my core. I never ever have been unfaithful, I am extremely loyal and could not betray anyone I was with.

Tell me what went through your head when you asked your ex to slap you across the face as hard as he could. Why did you ask him to do it? What made you think that you wanted it? What did you feel when he did it? Did it hurt? If it did, why did you want it? Did you think about it afterwards? Did you want him to do it again?

I can tell you exactly. I wanted to be consumed, possessed, ravaged, savagely. I wanted to feel his power over me, and give him that power to do whatever he wanted.

I wanted to tell him that I was his and I hoped he would understand what that meant. I wanted to be used by him and I wanted to release all that was inside of me, to reveal myself to him. For him to see my soul to be one with his soul.

When he did it, I felt a bit stunned, because he did put all of his might into it. I saw stars for a few seconds. It did hurt, it stung and burned and then it felt numb. I wanted it because I felt it would show him I had no limits with him, and I wanted him to be my Savior.

What hurt so deeply though was seeing the look of revulsion in his eyes as he stopped, got off me, and left the room. He looked so incredibly disgusted by me, I could feel his skin crawling at just the sight of me.

It has put a huge imprint on my psyche and again it gave the tormentor a great satisfaction… all I could hear inside was a seething, “Seeeeeeeeee you are disgusting, you are sick, you have ruined everything. You don’t deserve love, you horrible, revolting thing.”

I have never been able to identify with that moment other than to associate it with extreme emotional pain. Even now it stirs emotion. Had he understood me, he would have known I was not doing it because I crave pain. I crave love and acceptance and this is why I did it.

I am not sure if you understand what I am saying, I hope you do. If not I will try to explain again better. It is important to me that you get this.

I hope so too. Remember that you have nothing to lose to tell me; I’m not sitting there watching you. You are safe behind the screen and pretty much anonymous. If there was ever a good time to verbalize it, now seems like it.

I sincerely doubt that I would fall over laughing but I will probably tell you that it was nothing to worry about. I promise you; I have heard some really strange stuff (and done some pretty strange stuff myself) without raising an eyebrow. Remember that you are talking to someone who has you beat, no doubt about that.

I once was with a woman who was agonizing about a hugely shameful thing and she wouldn’t tell me because she was too humiliated by it, but time was running out and finally she blurted out that she was dreaming about me pissing on her. If she had been able to sink through the floor, she would have at that moment.

I said, “come here,” grabbed her hair and half-dragged her to her shower where I proceeded to fulfill that particular dream. Later on she said that it was so ironic that she needed the humiliation of being peed on but wouldn’t tell me because she felt humiliated by saying it. She loved it, by the way.

Oh my gosh, Dreamwalker… Really, I will try to work up the courage to tell you.

It is nothing kinky at all. The truth is, I love golden showers. I have kneeled in front of a toilet while my ex (this was before the slap) peed and stuck out my tongue and just feel his urine running over my tongue, dripping into my mouth, down my chin and I found it incredibly erotic. I don’t feel ashamed of that. I loved it. Again, I don’t think he did, but he allowed it until the slap.

The thing I refer to is such a human, everyday thing, that all people do. I cannot, which is why I feel so much shame, embarrassment, humiliation about it. It’s why I think when you read it, you will laugh.

You might not laugh, but it is a huge trauma for me. I will really try to work up the courage to tell you, I promise I will really, really try.

In the meantime, please feel free to continue to write me. Don’t feel like you have to wait for my response before writing again if something occurs to you. Just writing in itself is a good thing for you. I will respond as soon as I can. I promise.

I want to tell you something that might come off as really weird, and I understand if you think that and I will risk that outcome because I want you to know this anyway, you are one of the best friends I have ever had, and I feel full of emotion in saying this to you.

I will now work on part two and send it.

* * *

Dear Dreamwalker,

I love it that you call me Sweet GentleSpirit, it disarms me, and brings down my defenses totally.

It’s gratifying for me that you feel safe enough to tell me things you haven’t even really contemplated yourself. This is the best reward I can ever receive for opening up myself and telling the world about what is going on inside me. I enjoy listening to you and I feel a connection to you too. You have no idea how refreshing it is to talk to someone who expresses themselves as well as you do in writing. And manages to convey what is going on inside. I enjoy this.

I am so glad that you don’t feel burdened and afraid of me. You opening up in your writing had made me feel total trust in you. I never worry that you will tell anyone or come back at me with shock or horror at what I say, feel or think. You make me feel accepted which I cannot put a value on or tell you how much it means to me, again I fill with tears in saying these things.

Thank you for explaining how you see the difference between strong men and controlling men. Your description helped setting off a lightbulb in my head about the whole thing and I appreciate that. Although the men you call “controlling” I would call “juvenile.”

Just curious; how old have your partners been? Does age factor in or is it just a personality thing?

I am now curious, what was the light bulb in your head about? Will you tell me?

I have had 3 significant relationships. The first was 18 years older than me. The second 4 years younger. The third 6 years younger. It is a personality thing.

I like this whole lifestyle because I think it is more transparent. People tell you about themselves, it is almost like negotiating a deal when you go into it. Everything is spelled out clearly. That is what it seems like anyway, I might be wrong, but I like that honesty.

It is interesting that you have never chosen anyone in your life. I’m not entirely sure why yet, but I know it is significant. You really have never gone after a man? Ever?

No, I have never gone after a man before, ever, ever, ever, ever.

I want to tell you that I won’t lie to you. I would choose not answer something before I lied about anything, and I hope you feel the same way too. I have no reason or desire to lie to you, the purity and honesty of my friendship with you would be destroyed with one lie.

One would think that the way you react when approached, feeling invaded, would mean that you would prefer to do the approaching instead. Then again, I imagine that is something that goes against your grain. So you wind up in a sort of limbo.

No, I feel like when someone approaches me in a sexual way, or with romantic interest that I want to flee. I feel trapped, I feel like I can’t breathe, I get anxious.

I don’t mind in a group of friends, I am okay then I have my friends around me, I can chat away and deflect attention onto my friends.

I mean on a one to one level, when I am out and about just going about my business, or out with a friend and then approached. I can explain the circumstances of my three long term relationships another time, but I got to know all of them for a while before I dated them.

I also have only ever had one 1 night stand. I am not promiscuous and did not like the time I did it so I have only ever had sex inside a relationship. That might surprise you as well.

Still, once they “wore you down,” did you feel open and safe and at home, at least until they showed themselves to be controlling rather than strong?

Yes, I did. I felt safe, because I knew them and had established relationships with them, even if it was a friendship first.

I’d like to know why you have always shied away from men. Is there something going on or did something happen to make it so? Or are you just generally skittish?

I think it is a combination of all three.

Yes, I read the comment you left for me on “Is Submission a Gift.” I suppose the battle has already gone on for two weeks then. Grins. Good girl. It’s a huge leap to make and nobody has to be braver and stronger than the submissive woman who is coming to terms with her longings and desires. I am here to help you in any way I can but I am also here to admire the display. You have some interesting times ahead.

It would appear then that you have to be “worn down” as well… hehehe.

Well, I made a decision to start the journey two weeks ago. I decided that I can’t live the rest of my life as a disconnected soul. It’s like a battle within of good and evil.

The light in me is saying, “Set me free, I need to connect and connect in a deep, very deep, healing level. My soul has been tortured enough, and it’s time for my happiness,” and again with the emotion swelling inside, and tears forming.

I can give so much to someone, and I know I have the capacity to love very intensely and intimately, but maybe it’s just not conventional love like in the movies. I don’t think it is any less real, or special, or beautiful.

You have told me about your fear but I still feel like I don’t have a grasp on it. Can you tell me what exactly is the most frightful for you? Is it that you’d risk your partner rejecting you and thinking that you are strange? Is it that you are afraid to relive the experience with your ex? Or is it something else?

I think it is the risk of my partner rejecting me and thinking I am strange, that I am damaged goods, not worth having. I have some scary stories that i feel okay about now. Telling someone else them, though, makes me think that they will be afraid to even engage with me.

I know so very well what you say about normal sex. The last few years before I said I wanted a divorce I could take it less and less. I checked out just like you. I can’t fantasize or think about something else during sex, so I just shut down. I had to because if I allowed myself to feel anything good, my hands would do things, I would do things… forbidden things. Scary things. So I grew colder and colder, my heart became harder and harder.

I can’t fantasize during sex either. We must be the only two, because everyone else I know talks about that. I just leave my body, go into my head, and I think this is why I haven’t connected.

I was so excited with Brian, my ex, because I felt we were going to take the journey together, but it never happened. In fact, the worst outcome happened. I blame myself for that, though.

I should have read the signs that he didn’t want it, I didn’t see them but he said they were there. The irony is, he became somewhat physically abusive towards me at then end of our relationship so I could never get that one. I left him because of this.

The interesting thing is that since I came out to myself and to the world, I thawed up more than I have ever been before. I am more present now, more loving, more tender if you would believe that, more open and vulnerable, more affectionate. It’s because I get to express what I feel and express it in ways that I understand. My love comes with bruises and aches and sometimes blinding pain, but that blinding pain and those aches and bruises also come with love. In a relationship with me, there is no demarcation between them.

I feel tingles all throughout my body right now after reading this paragraph, it is amazing that you have found this freedom. I can only hope to find someone who will accept me, warts and all.

That doesn’t happen all the time, of course. Sometimes I am simply cuddly and want to snuggle while watching a movie. On the other hand, sometimes I am gnarly and I’ll want to play “mad scientist.” Whenever you see me in goggles, a rubber apron and rubber gloves, carrying a shoehorn and a funnel, you’d better resign yourself to be walking funny for a few days. Just sayin’. He he.

I was just kidding about the last part. I don’t own an apron.

LOL!!!!!!!!!

I’ve weathered some pretty intense PTSD storms (not my own) and I’ve seen a lot so please define for me what “meltdown” means to you before I answer your question about it.

Well, when I say meltdown, I don’t know exactly, but something along the lines of emotional meltdown, like if you can’t stop crying, are paralyzed in fear, faint. I once fainted during sex. I don’t mean temper tantrum or anything way over the top.

I don’t think you are burdensome at all and I am not disturbed in the least by your darkness; I only want to help. Besides, I have quite a bit of darkness myself. I’m sure I can help if you allow me to. I imagine just talking about it helps quite a bit. As for any gratitude; take me out for pie one day and we’ll call it even.

Pie… that is very cute. I will think of something nicer than pie.

And thank you for saying that I am the monster that you’d like under your bed. That’s one of the sweetest things I have heard in a long time. And I can’t imagine not wanting to be your friend, just so you know.

You are welcome, and I hope we are always friends. I think we will be though, I just have a feeling about it.

GentleSpirit is sitting next to me on her laptop, wading through our earliest correspondence, while I am intently studying the trading strategy and modeling implications of equity options’ expiration day volatility crashes. (Yeah, it’s a mouthful as well as a brainful). She is a study in girlishness, next to me; there are random gasps and squeaks and, yes, some tears, as she gets all emo reliving our getting to know each other. Can’t say that I mind; girly is good in my book.

This continues from where we left off in Love letters: The first day.

GentleSpirit:

I fell asleep waiting for your response, I am so sorry. That is very unusual, but it was an unusual day for me. I was exhausted. You really are such a giving man, and I thank you for taking so much of your time to respond to me.

As far as my pics go, I am a natural brunette. The color you see now is close enough to my natural hair color. It’s funny that the pic you liked the most is the one I like the least. It is my thought though that pictures are not a good gauge of anything really but to give you an idea of a person. They speak nothing to the essence of a person, their aura, vibe etc…

Yes, your intensity comes through and I would not like the idea of being hurt for the sake of being hurt. This does nothing for me and mentally and emotionally I would struggle with this. I am struggling already as it is. I feel myself afraid and resistant but in the sense of wanting to reject myself, the way you describe it makes it sound somewhat okay to me.

I also want you to understand that I don’t mean anything I say to be in anyway negative or judgmental about you, I think you are a beautiful person, it’s me I am having difficulty with so please understand that.

I can only imagine then that you understand the hurt of having someone that you love or even loved, to think those things about you. It only gave fuel to that voice in my head (I am not schizo or anything like it) I am speaking of that inner dialogue that just never shuts up, that tells you… You are ugly, not normal, sick, twisted, why can’t you just be like everyone else, you’re dirty, disgusting, no one could really love you if they really knew you… blah blah blah.

As I said earlier, that is the tormentor I wish to escape, I cannot imagine a more cruel one as the one I live with, that I listen to, that I am a slave to. I am very emotional typing this right now, unexpected, but I haven’t talked of these things in this way ever before.

In trying to figure all of this out and give it a reason, maybe I just am not strong enough to battle that demon anymore, and need someone else, someone stronger to take on that fight. Perhaps through surrender, I find that one who will slay that Demon, because I realize I cannot. Maybe sounds a little crazy, but I am just throwing out what comes to me, as it has never come to me like this before.

This is it exactly, fear of the unknown. All of it is so scary to me, because I just don’t know how to cross that invisible line in the sand. The one that stands between myself and freedom. It should be easy in theory, but not for me. It is so hard, I am so afraid of letting anyone see me. I mean really see me, but I am also aware that only in that moment can I ever experience freedom, love, acceptance and surrender.

In my past relationships I have made the mistake of confusing controlling men as strong men, when really it was the exact opposite, as they, too, were slaves to their thoughts and weak by nature. I have never been happy because as soon as I recognized this, I realized that I could never surrender control or power to them. In fact, usually I ended up with the power in the relationship which I hated.

I am determined to find a way to do it though this time. I know it is a journey, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically, but talking, recognizing and acknowledging there is something wrong I think is the first step. If I don’t do anything now, I am the aware accomplice to my own self destruction, unhappiness, to being unfulfilled.

I have to make the choice with full clarity to betray myself, I don’t believe I can do that now, but the fear comes from the thought that maybe I could. No… I won’t, I can’t. No matter what I have to endure to get there, I will cross the line. I am just preparing for battle right now. (Figuratively, of course.)

The scary part of allowing yourself to be this vulnerable is… will the voice have been right all along and can I afford to take the chance of finding out, because I don’t know how to rebuild if it was right, if rejection comes.

To put your faith in another person’s hand is a huge act of love, especially when you are fragile and just don’t want to end up shattered after. This is what is hard, how do you say that to someone, I would fear that responsibility if someone said that to me. I don’t know the recipe, I have never baked this cake before. I just know I need to find the right person, and give in. Whether that be sadist, dom, vanilla whatever. I just want and need to connect with a person on a very deep level, to allow my surrender.

I do find it therapeutic talking with you and am very grateful for you taking your time to write to me and read what I say. There are not very many people in the world that are willing to give time to a stranger, especially one that is a bit lost and confused.

I don’t feel like the same person who began this journey, and I definitely don’t recognize myself right now. Maybe it will calm in a couple of days, but I am feeling like a stranger in myself at the moment. I think your writing touched my soul in some way, regardless of whatever label I am. The labels I am not sure about, I am evolving and am not sure what I am, what I like, who to identify with. I am first, though, human, and I felt your humanity very very deeply through your writing, and you are so beautiful to me.

Dreamwalker, I am afraid I was ruined for “normal” sex a very long time ago. I have no idea what experiencing this would be like. I wonder, would I love it, hate it, freak out, meltdown. I am not sure, but I do ask it.

The only issue I need to resolve is fear. I fear pain so how do I walk into it, ask for it, beg for it, cry for it? or… Get it, then realize it’s not what I want. This is the question that needs to be answered. The only certainty I know right now is my need to surrender, submit, give in. That is one fact I know. In what arena to do that, I do not know. I guess I will have to figure that one out. Is there a checklist? (LOL)

Finding my complement, that sounds amazing. I am so glad to have you to talk to. Thank you for everything. I will be at work all day today, but hope to talk to you more later. If you are busy, no problem. I will try to talk to you again soon.

Dreamwalker:

Don’t be sorry; it was late and you must have been exhausted and emotionally worn out. I’ll be around to talk to you as long as you want; no need to try to squeeze it all in on one day.

I agree that pictures are not a good gauge about anything substantial about a person. Me, having the writing gene, look deeply in how a person expresses themselves, for instance. Besides, people mostly think in terms of faces when they think pictures.

I have come to realize that I don’t view faces like “normal” people do. I view faces as a collection of parts; eyes, mouth, nose, rather than a unity. I guess I don’t see the forest for all the trees.

I don’t know if that promotes or detracts from my perceptiveness but I am extraordinarily perceptive of people’s emotional state. Goes with being a sadist, I suppose; how can I enjoy your agony if I cannot immerse myself in your emotions?

I don’t know if it’s weird or not but I have never been physically attracted to a woman because of her face, only her body. Her face is not part of the equation for some reason. Her face is a conveyance mechanism for what I make her feel; it’s a communication device that bridges her heart and mine. Until I touch her and make her feel, her face just… is. Although I suppose she’d look weird without it. Grins.

I confess to wondering how your features would transform in surrender. Especially your lips. I find the mouth to be the most expressive part of the face, the closest to and most honest about your emotional state.

It breaks my heart when you tell me about your inner tormentor. Sadly, it is not very uncommon for women to have that inner voice that puts themselves down. Still, hearing it described like you did really tore at my heart. Does it really feel like that?

And how could someone not love you if they really knew you? Your deepest, darkest secrets, that you confessed to a stranger yesterday only serve to make you more beautiful. Trust me on this; everything you have said so far just makes you that much more radiant.

Did you get to How Can I Explain yet?

From your description, I can definitely see why having someone taking the reins is such an attractive thought for you. I kinda like the thought of replacing your inner tormentor with an external one. An external one that finds you beautiful and desirable and the treasure of his life.

There are people out there, good, sane, loving people that are just like you or are your perfect complements and they would smile indulgently and shake their heads at the secrets you have been agonizing for so long. It really isn’t nearly as bad as you think; in fact, it’s the opposite. You are in possession of a treasure that you can share with your lover if you choose and dare, you just have to find a way to make it okay for yourself to do so.

Judging from yesterday, you caught this thread of thought in flight and I’d really like to see you following it inwards. You have a great opportunity right now to grow and to take giant leaps towards your own emotional fulfillment. This whole area, this whole concept is about pressing boundaries, though; a primary tenet is to go outside your comfort zone. Without that you won’t grow and get to know the self that you can be and should be.

That still doesn’t mean that you should be reckless, of course. Like in any other community, there are bad apples in the kink community as well. Although I have heard surprisingly few negative stories for the number of people I have met. Personally, I have never felt more accepted and loved by friends than now; the kinksters I surround myself with are incredible and magnificent people.

You say that in your past relationships you have confused controlling men as strong men; would you please tell me more about that? And how do you perceive the difference?

I like the determination in your voice when you say that you are preparing for battle. It sounds like you are ready to take responsibility for your own happiness and fulfillment even though the journey will be scary. I bet that the future you will look back and notice that all the scariness was in the unknown; I bet that the journey itself will be quite exhilarating. And pleasurable.

And for what it’s worth; you will discover that the voice was completely and utterly wrong. I agree: putting your faith in someone’s hand is a huge act of love and trust especially when you are afraid. And it is an equally huge act of love and, yes, trust to accept that faith in you. It is okay that you would fear that responsibility if someone wanted that from you but that is not your role, is it?

The role that you are carved out for is to be the receptive one, the vulnerable one, the one that feels. The role that I’m carved out for is to be the invasive one, the controlling one, the one that guides. Neither of us could fulfill the other’s role.

Frankly, the thought of being on your side of the fence is just as terrifying to me as it is for you to be on mine. We simply long for the roles and things that feel natural to us and that we instinctively feel will fulfill us and satisfy us.

To take that responsibility is something that feels natural to me; it makes me feel accepted and trusted and adored. And that is exactly what I need. To surrender is something that feels natural to you; it (probably) makes you feel loved and cherished and treasured. And that is (again, probably) exactly what you need.

I don’t know the recipe either. The thing is that every time we bake a cake, the pantry contains different supplies and we have to work with what we have. That means that the cake will come out differently every time. That’s why it’s so important to pay attention to each other and not simply rely on talking. As soon as you start talking you engage your brain and it really likes to stir the pot and make a mess out of things.

I’m a communicator and I sure like to communicate. (In person I am kinda quiet unless I think I have something of substance to say.) I’ll beat the poor dead horse into pulp with words if I don’t stop myself. I do realize, though, that the great mass of communication between a male and a female is outside the realm of language. And that goes double for doing something as elemental and primal as what we are discussing right now.

I am first, though, human, and I felt your humanity very very deeply through your writing, and you are so beautiful to me.

Oy. Bless you, girl, for you made me blush.

Consider one thing, though; we were males and females long before we were human. That’s why I make a distinction between men/women and males/females in my writing. Personally I think that we are males and females first and then humans (and then men and women.) I think that we are dissatisfied and feel lost because we keep forgetting the primal distinctions between the sexes. We are too occupied being men and women and we don’t pay nearly enough attention to ourselves and our partners as primal sexual beings.

The brain may be the biggest sex organ there is but I’m telling you that a woman looks a helluva lot sexier when you look at her as purely a female. And women are dang sexy to begin with. I think of myself as a gynephile, by the way.

Dreamwalker, I am afraid I was ruined for “normal” sex a very long time ago.

Tell me more about this.

I wonder, would I love it, hate it, freak out, meltdown.

Yes. Grins.

This is a highly emotional journey; you will feel all kinds of emotions. I have. The good ones outweigh the bad ones, though. Significantly.

GentleSpirit:

I confess to wondering how your features would transform in surrender. Especially your lips. I find the mouth to be the most expressive part of the face, the closest to and most honest about your emotional state.

Funny again, the feature I least like on my face. The imperfection of my face, is my mouth. I know most people wouldn’t notice, but I am hyper critical of myself. When I smile, it doesn’t look even, one side of my lip turns up slightly, and it really bothers me. It sounds so vein and petty but it seriously, really bothers me. I have sat and tried to retrain my mouth to smile properly, for hours sometimes, but nothing has worked. You see… the tormentor…

It breaks my heart when you tell me about your inner tormentor. Sadly, it is not very uncommon for women to have that inner voice that puts themselves down. Still, hearing it described like you did really tore at my heart. Does it really feel like that?

Yes, it really feels like that. It feels overwhelming, and I feel possessed sometimes by the hateful thoughts, sometimes to the point of tears.

As I told you in a previous email, sometimes the only thing I can do is to grab my arm, dig my nails into my skin so hard so that the pain of that moment is louder than that voice.

I have never shared this with another soul but I feel fine talking to you, maybe I just don’t feel judged by you, or maybe it’s the safety of the computer screen.

Sometimes I really think I am possessed by this cruel demon, but I am glad it only projects onto myself. In a strange paradox, I am extremely kind and non judgmental towards others. I would give my last penny to a homeless person, and run to anyone’s aid who needed help. I don’t mistreat people, at least I don’t think I do and am always keenly aware of how people are feeling.

When it’s quiet and those thoughts start, they are very dark. I can’t stop it and I have tried. Meditation, books… I belong to those thoughts, they do not belong to me, and I really do not believe there is anyone that could torture me more.

And how could someone not love you if they really knew you? Your deepest, darkest secrets, that you confessed to a stranger yesterday only serve to make you more beautiful. Trust me on this; everything you have said so far just makes you that much more radiant.

The truth is, people do really love me and are very attracted to me (not sexually, but my energy). You see, Dreamwalker, I read those words but I don’t comprehend them because all I see is… “they wouldn’t love you if they really knew you.”

Thank you for your very kind and caring words, just forgive me if I can’t believe them just yet. My hope is that someday I will believe those things about myself, deep down, way down where no one has ever visited.

On the surface day to day I have a very strong and happy demeanor, when people are near me, to distract me I give them my whole attention so I don’t have to be alone with myself. This is hard to admit, but healing as well.

I have never felt this level of honesty with myself much less anyone else and yet it is flowing with ease. I am sorry to burden you with this, I must appear very disturbed, but if you met me, you would never think anything was wrong.

Tank you for listening.

Did you get to How Can I Explain yet?

I just read it, incredibly powerful. Your writing affects me. A LOT. I love reading it, I can get lost in it. It is so honest and raw, I don’t think I have ever read emotion in words like yours.

It scares me too. It’s like a roller coaster, you want to get on the ride, wait forever in line, but once you get on you hide your eyes, scream and can’t wait for it to be over, and then when you get off, you want to go back and wait in line to take the ride again. This is how I feel when I read your words.

From your description, I can definitely see why having someone taking the reins is such an attractive thought for you. I kinda like the thought of replacing your inner tormentor with an external one. An external one that finds you beautiful and desirable and the treasure of his life.

I couldn’t believe when those words came out of me, but I had never put words to those feelings. I never was able to find the words to describe the enormity of power that inner tormentor, until today and I am so glad I was able to share that with you and maybe to think that someone on this planet understands me, at least on some level.

There are people out there, good, sane, loving people that are just like you or are your perfect complements and they would smile indulgently and shake their heads at the secrets you have been agonizing for so long. It really isn’t nearly as bad as you think; in fact, it’s the opposite. You are in possession of a treasure that you can share with your lover if you choose and dare, you just have to find a way to make it okay for yourself to do so.

Judging from yesterday, you caught this thread of thought in flight and I’d really like to see you following it inwards. You have a great opportunity right now to grow and to take giant leaps towards your own emotional fulfillment. This whole area, this whole concept is about pressing boundaries, though; a primary tenet is to go outside your comfort zone. Without that you won’t grow and get to know the self that you can be and should be.

I do believe there is someone or maybe many out there that could understand me, it is the finding the way to make it okay that is the struggle.

I am growing right now, believe me I have never reflected like I am now. I have never even considered some of the things I am now, I just feel a battle within, but it seems I am winning it for the time being.

Going out of my comfort zone, yes the ultimate challenge. I have one wish, I feel if I could have the courage to do one thing, and do it that I would break through everything. This is my deepest darkest secret, shame, humiliation, hate, and although I feel close to you, I can’t even bring myself to tell you what it is.

Do you know something, if I told you, I think you would fall over laughing it is such a silly thing, but I can’t do it. I need to conquer it though. I hope that I can share this with you someday.

That still doesn’t mean that you should be reckless, of course. Like in any other community, there are bad apples in the kink community as well. Although I have heard surprisingly few negative stories for the number of people I have met. Personally, I have never felt more accepted and loved by friends than now; the kinksters I surround myself with are incredible and magnificent people.

Dreamwalker, this is very sweet of you but really my instinct to self preserve is extremely keen, and I would not let harm come to myself.

I have only spoken at this depth with you, and only because you revealed so much about yourself. I do feel a connection to you, maybe I am being silly… but I do, I think I feel okay to tell you things that I haven’t even really contemplated myself.

You are a great friend already and I don’t know you, which is probably good, because I wouldn’t be brave enough to reveal myself this deeply face to face, at least not right now. I hope I can find the courage someday.

You say that in your past relationships you have confused controlling men as strong men; would you please tell me more about that? And how do you perceive the difference?

Well, I won’t bore you with the details of my previous relationships but what I found was that control was masking fear and insecurity. They were so focused on their need to control me that they showed no self control.

When this was revealed to me in the many ways the people use, I could no longer give them my heart. The confidence was really arrogance and insecurity, the inability to accept responsibility for their actions only to turn and blame me, many things like this.

If I can’t respect you, admire you, feel safe with you, I cannot love you, or give you any part of me. It’s the self preservation instinct. I disconnected my heart and soul from those men, they chose me anyway, I didn’t ever choose any of them.

I have never chosen anyone in my life. I have always shied away from men, and the ones I have been with have heavily pursued me, and had to ask me out and be rejected at least 3 times. That is not arrogance, it is fear. I fear men, especially initially. It’s strange, I know, but I feel so invaded when someone approaches me initially. I want to run away.

The difference between a strong man and a controlling man in that a strong man is even. He does not allow my emotional state to affect his emotional state. He can understand me and know that I am not reacting to him but myself and try to be there with me through those moments.

He has a sense of balance, and does not take his anger out on me, blame me for his failures or mistakes, takes responsibility when he needs to, says “sorry” and accepts “sorry,” doesn’t resent me or hold grudges.

A controlling man will try to tell me what is wrong with me, what I have to fix, he will lose his composure and act out towards me, bully me, shut me up, call me names, or whatever else he needs to do.

I like the determination in your voice when you say that you are preparing for battle. It sounds like you are ready to take responsibility for your own happiness and fulfillment even though the journey will be scary. I bet that the future you will look back and notice that all the scariness was in the unknown; I bet that the journey itself will be quite exhilarating. And pleasurable.

And for what it’s worth; you will discover that the voice was completely and utterly wrong. I agree: putting your faith in someone’s hand is a huge act of love and trust especially when you are afraid. And it is an equally huge act of love and, yes, trust to accept that faith in you. It is okay that you would fear that responsibility if someone wanted that from you but that is not your role, is it?

Oh, I think the battle has started. It started when I read “Is Submission a Gift” on FetLife. Did you ever read the comment I left there for you? That was so powerful for me, I yearn for that connection.

I know it’s not my role, and thank you for saying that the voice will be wrong. I so want to believe that, and I will take the chance anyway when I feel ready because although I might be shattered, I will at least not have betrayed myself. What is so simple for some is deathly scary for others. I just have to break through. I will.

To take that responsibility is something that feels natural to me; it makes me feel accepted and trusted and adored. And that is exactly what I need. To surrender is something that feels natural to you; it (probably) makes you feel loved and cherished and treasured. And that is (again, probably) exactly what you need.

Yes, I know this to be a fact. I need this.

I don’t know the recipe either. The thing is that every time we bake a cake, the pantry contains different supplies and we have to work with what we have. That means that the cake will come out differently every time. That’s why it’s so important to pay attention to each other and not simply rely on talking. As soon as you start talking you engage your brain and it really likes to stir the pot and make a mess out of things.

Yes, the brain, the enemy, where the devil resides.

I’m a communicator and I sure like to communicate. (In person I am kinda quiet unless I think I have something of substance to say.) I’ll beat the poor dead horse into pulp with words if I don’t stop myself. I do realize, though, that the great mass of communication between a male and a female is outside the realm of language. And that goes double for doing something as elemental and primal as what we are discussing right now.

I am first, though, human, and I felt your humanity very very deeply through your writing, and you are so beautiful to me.

Oy. Bless you, girl, for you made me blush.

I am first, though, female, and I felt your elemental male very very deeply through your writing, and you are so beautiful to me.

(Do you like that better?) Still, I was glad to make you blush.

Dreamwalker, I am afraid I was ruined for “normal” sex a very long time ago.

Tell me more about this.

I don’t know what that means, “normal sex.” I don’t think I have ever had it, and couldn’t even begin to explain what that means.

The only time I have been present in sex is when it was kinky, strange, different. Another fact I have never shared with anyone, in Vanilla sex, I am not there, I am there but not present. It’s like I just switch off the lights and slip off to another place. Not sure you can even begin to understand what I am talking about.

I wonder, would I love it, hate it, freak out, meltdown.

Yes. Grins.

So… Which one? All of the above? Have you ever witnessed a meltdown? If so, how did you handle it?

This is a highly emotional journey; you will feel all kinds of emotions. I have. The good ones outweigh the bad ones, though. Significantly.

I do get that. I want you to know that I am not troubled on a conscious level. I feel perfectly fine when I push all of this aside. Only when I get closer to where I need to be is where all of this is stirred.

If I am too burdensome or dark for you, please tell me. I don’t want to bring you down. I want to thank you though for being a sanctuary for me, for allowing me to be totally honest and for encouraging me so much. I feel so much gratitude towards you I cant express in words. I can only say, you are the Monster that I would want under my bed.

P.S. I don’t think you are a Monster but I remember yesterday when I called you a Dom and you said something like, “My sweet GentleSpirit, I am not a Dom I am a Monster.”

To me you are no Monster, you are perfect as you are, and I will be forever grateful for your friendship, even if someday you don’t want to be my friend.

Dreamwalker:

It’s not nearly as draining on me as it is on you, sweet GentleSpirit. You’re the one that is going through emotional upheaval right now, not me. I am far from conquering all my demons and smoothing out all the bumps in the road but my sailing is easy compared to yours.

I have done my breakthrough work already; yours is only starting. If you don’t mind I’ll stick around; it is beautiful to watch. You’ll probably hurt like hell and I will be here to keep you company and enjoy watching you spread your wings.

I have a thing for mouths. To me, mouths are the most expressive of all parts of the face. I have fallen in love with mouths, just how a woman articulates her lips, how she smiles, how she purses her lips when she thinks.

How her lips swell when she’s aroused.

In some ways a woman’s mouth is so intimate too. Pushing my fingers into her mouth is a different level of intimacy than pushing them in elsewhere. To me, it almost feel even more intimate.

I have often wondered why I feel that way. The best answer I have for now is that her mouth is closer to where her awareness is located. We all feel like we reside in our heads because that’s where all our senses are represented. So penetrating her mouth is penetrating her closer to her “core,” if you will. Shrugs; that’s my hypothesis at least.

Anyway, the picture I said was my favorite was my favorite because of your smile. There’s nothing wrong with your smile. In fact, it is lovely. And if it were to be a little uneven, that is just icing on the cake. If I wanted Barbie I could buy her at Toys R Us. An uneven smile would be a trademark, something for a lover to imprint on. I know it’s a big deal to you but, I’m sorry, I’d just think it was cute. And I don’t see the unevenness in the picture.

Yes, I can definitely see you needing someone to unexpectedly pinch your nipples or grab you by the hair when you start obsessing over things. It could be quite the fun “reboot.”

I know this is not fun for you and although I try to make light of the situation, I am not making light of how you are feeling. To a certain degree, I know how impossible it is to stop those thought, that voice in your head. And to a greater degree, I can imagine. Being a sadist, I don’t do sympathy very well but I’m pretty good at empathy. When it comes to follow along with your emotions, I have incredible stamina and attention-span.

No, nobody could torture you more than those dark thoughts. And my heart keeps breaking for you, Gentlespirit. You need so much to have someone reach into you and help pull out those thoughts while you push from the inside. I can’t even imagine how much of a relief it would be to have that help, to have a method to quiet the darkness.

To have someone do the same with your thoughts and emotions as he does to your head, holding it securely between two strong hands and not letting you move as he takes a kiss. Imagine those two strong hands reaching into you and keeping your mind captive in the same way; no matter how much it wants to jump around in circles and bounce off the walls, there is nothing it can do because it is securely held by his attention.

To have a stronger, more insistent, more demanding voice drown out the one in the back of your head. To follow the voice on the outside that is even more greedy for your attention, perhaps more needy for your attention, and feels more entitled to your attention, than the dark voice inside you.

You said that you belong to those thoughts, that they don’t belong to you. I understand now the driving force behind your need to surrender; until you find someone else to belong to, you will continue to belong to those thoughts. You are like the flag on the rope in a tug-of-war; it’s just that right now there is nobody on the other side pulling you away from the darkness. You need someone to pick up the rope and start pulling you away from the darkness, someone stronger, more arrogant in his entitlement to you, greedier, more stubborn, more possessive than the force that is pulling on you exclusively now.

The truth is, people do really love me and are very attracted to me (not sexually, but my energy).

Why not sexually? Why did you feel the need to make that distinction?

This is hard to admit, but healing as well. I have never felt this level of honesty with myself much less anyone else and yet it is flowing with ease.

It is healing for you. Telling me this, just articulating it, is an incredible healing exercise for you. If that were the only thing you took away from this, it would be more than enough, right? It’s so hard to find someone to talk to about things like this. But I’m not just interested in healing you, I also want to help you grow. You have such great potential for peace and tranquility and I’d love to watch you achieve it.

We all take different paths to find peace. Some find it in religion while others find it in books or meditation. It seems like you have exhausted your “mainstream” approaches and you are still without a path that works for you. Perhaps this one is it. You have already instinctively reached out for it in some ways with your previous lovers. That must mean something. Also, the reaction you have to my writing also is a strong indicator that you subconsciously know which path to take. You just need to have a sit-down with your brain about it first.

It’s like a roller coaster, you want to get on the ride, wait forever in line, but once you get on you hide your eyes, scream and can’t wait for it to be over, and then when you get off, you want to go back and wait in line to take the ride again. This is how I feel when I read your words.

This made me smile. You just described how it is to experience all this live and in hi-def and surround sound where available. So often, in the middle of things, you may hate it and want it to be over but as soon as it is, you can’t wait to do it all over again. That’s the most common thing I have heard from masochists.

Pain is pain. It fucking hurts. It’s just that somewhere along the line, that pain shapes your emotions in ways it doesn’t for “mundane” people. You’ll come to appreciate that. You’ll come to form a love/hate relationship with it. It may very well be like going to the gym where you may not feel like it and even hate it but if you skip it you feel out of sorts and you wind up even more miserable.

Tell me what went through your head when you asked your ex to slap you across the face as hard as he could. Why did you ask him to do it? What made you think that you wanted it? What did you feel when he did it? Did it hurt? If it did, why did you want it? Did you think about it afterwards? Did you want him to do it again?

I have one wish, I feel if I could have the courage to do one thing, and do it that I would break through everything. This is my deepest darkest secret, shame, humiliation, hate, and although I feel close to you, I can’t even bring myself to tell you what it is. Do you know something, if I told you, I think you would fall over laughing it is such a silly thing, but I can’t do it. I need to conquer it though. I hope that I can share this with you someday.

I hope so too. Remember that you have nothing to lose to tell me; I’m not sitting there watching you. You are safe behind the screen and pretty much anonymous. If there was ever a good time to verbalize it, now seems like it.

I sincerely doubt that I would fall over laughing but I will probably tell you that it was nothing to worry about. I promise you; I have heard some really strange stuff (and done some pretty strange stuff myself) without raising an eyebrow. Remember that you are talking to someone who has you beat, no doubt about that.

I once was with a woman who was agonizing about a hugely shameful thing and she wouldn’t tell me because she was too humiliated by it, but time was running out and finally she blurted out that she was dreaming about me pissing on her. If she had been able to sink through the floor, she would have at that moment.

I said, “come here,” grabbed her hair and half-dragged her to her shower where I proceeded to fulfill that particular dream. Later on she said that it was so ironic that she needed the humiliation of being peed on but wouldn’t tell me because she felt humiliated by saying it. She loved it, by the way.

We’re not dealing with perfectly reasonable lines of thought here. We’re dealing with emotions and with our subconscious. Things don’t always make sense. Sometimes we simply have to go on what feels right and trust that our instincts are showing us the right way.

Whenever you choose to share that secret with me, GentleSpirit, I will listen intently. And there is no way I will think it’s strange.

I received your second installment a little while ago and read it. However, it is already late and I need to go to bed. Tomorrow I will be out of touch with my computer so you are unlikely to hear from me. Wednesday I will be back, though, in the later evening. I will respond to the continuation of your message then.

In the meantime, please feel free to continue to write me. Don’t feel like you have to wait for my response before writing again if something occurs to you. Just writing in itself is a good thing for you. I will respond as soon as I can. I promise.

Good night, sweet GentleSpirit.

Read our continued correspondence in Love letters: The third day (Or the calm before the storm).

Last night, GentleSpirit asked if it would be okay for her to publish some of our earliest correspondence. Magnanimously I waved my hand in a royal gesture of indulgence. Reading it, I lost myself in the past as her post took me back in time and I decided to share it here as well. We enter hers and my dialogue after our initial hellos and me pointing her to this blog.

GentleSpirit:

Wow… what a day. I did literally spend 2 hours reading and reading.

I read many, with many more to go but I was on emotional overload. The one that got to me was “Sadistic Love.” It was such a strange reaction, both emotionally and physically. I am only now coming down from it, FACT.

I felt as if I had a fever, am still very warm. My face completely flushed, my neck/chest red and blotchy, breathing irregular. I have been doing breathing exercises since. I am confused by this reaction and maybe it is just the intensity of the content.

You are very deep, honest and raw. There is no need to say I’m sorry or thank you… I am just being very honest with you about my thoughts and feelings.

Dreamwalker:

Ahh… “Sadistic Love” is one of the first things I wrote after I “came out” to myself. I was in such turmoil and all the longing and urges and hunger were boiling over inside me. It’s the one piece that will make me kinda misty-eyed when I re-read it. All the emotions come back when I read it. It’s like a postcard sent from me to me.

The content is pretty intense, I agree; you are essentially seeing my footprints going through my own journey. Many pieces are written just because I couldn’t hold them in any longer, like “The Power of a Submissive Woman” or “Suffering Love,” to name some recent ones. Others are in response to other people’s writing or questions or comments or simply them acting as muses.

I love that you had this strong physical reaction to reading. I can’t wait to answer your questions and to correspond with you. I want to know what you think and what you feel.

GentleSpirit:

I want to tell you that I have never ever in my entire life talked with another human being about this…

I do identify with this, and I am sure it is why I have reacted to it. I have never ever considered myself in any way Masochistic… then I have never put a lot of thought into it. Maybe it’s shame, maybe not.

On the other hand I fear pain. I am not a cutter, never have been. I have, though, in times of emotional pain… dug my nails into myself until I drew blood, bit myself, pulled my hair so hard to be in the moment, stop the noise, just feel something different in times of emotional pain, and I have never said it out loud or in an email or any other way.

So… there is my confession. Strange that I am telling a stranger, but after reading your words, you don’t feel like a stranger. I guess we are all on a journey of self awareness on some level.

I do have questions but right now I don’t know what they are because I haven’t been able to clear my head. I will try again another time. I just wanted to say all that, and I trust it will stay only with you.

Dreamwalker:

No, my dear GentleSpirit; I don’t feel like a stranger, do I? The fact that my writing affects you means that you and I are cut of the same cloth in one way or another. You are not like me but you have the tools to see me and to understand.

I assure you; this is your secret, it’s not mine to give away. I am not going to betray your trust.

I know many masochists that hate pain. Personally, I make a distinction between masochists and pain-sluts. Pain-sluts get turned on by pain; some orgasm from pain. Masochists, on the other hand, feel pain just like me; the difference is that they can use that pain to shape their emotions. They can use that pain to experience an emotional journey. They can most definitely use that pain to combat emotional pain, like fighting fire with fire.

It may be hard for a masochist to figure out themselves sometimes. They may hate the pain but at the same time they may crave it for some unfathomable reason. They may dread the pain yet they find that their body responds with sexual arousal to it. They may think that they are insane when they submit to it yet they find that when it’s all done, they feel more alive and more connected with themselves than ever before.

Have you ever had a lover hurt you intentionally while having sex? It can be as simple as biting you while kissing you passionately, or pinching your nipples, or spanking you. If so, how did you feel at the time? How did you feel afterwards?

If you can use pain as you described to dull emotional pain, you can also use pain in good ways, to create good, compelling emotions. It’s just a matter of you wanting and daring to try it. Note that I’m not trying to talk you into it; I’m only saying that it is possible for you to explore—in your own time and at your own speed—that aspect of you safely and that there are people that think that masochists are the most beautiful and magical creatures alive.

I sense that you have a lot of thinking to do before you will make up your mind about exploring that part of you further and I will be happy to answer any questions that you may have.

GentleSpirit:

Thank you, Dreamwalker, for your insight. Please do not feel the need to tell me that you are not trying to talk me into anything. I know this. It would never cross my mind because while I do have a very strong submissive nature, I am also an independent thinker, and believe me, my need to self preserve is probably the strongest instinct I have.

Nobody could “talk me into” anything I didn’t want to do, so regardless what is said between us, I will never think that. please speak freely with me, and offer your input. I will either accept it or reject it if I feel it is inaccurate. I enjoy the exchange.

To answer your question, yes I have asked lovers to inflict pain, albeit mild in the past. In my last relationship, I told my partner that I wanted him to slap me across the face as hard as he could which he did while we were having sex. He hated it, I loved it. He never did it again.

I also liked to be pinched, bitten, hair pulling. I even asked him to act out a rape scene with me, which he tried but was immediately turned off by the whole thing. It actually was the beginning of the end of our relationship.

Funny, at the time, and up until this moment, I felt it was just being a little kinky. Now, I think maybe it was more. I don’t know where the line from D/s crosses over to S/M. How far does it have to go? Is it a gradual journey? I am not sure about it.

You are the first person I have ever talked to about this side, and I certainly have never revealed the info in my earlier email to anyone. I never gave it much thought, but then putting it together with the stuff from my relationship, then maybe there is something to it.

I am for sure not a pain slut. I know this much. The rest I just don’t know. It is more complicated again as I don’t even want to think about it, to decide. It’s all part of my desire to submit, I just want someone else to deal with it, someone I trust completely. Like you said in your writing, turn off the critical mind.

I want to surrender to someone who will love me in return for that surrender. I no longer want to be a slave to my mind. Does this make any sort of sense? I feel like I am speaking a foreign language.

Dreamwalker:

Ahh, yes, biting, hair pulling, and pinching while kissing her is the way I express my affection for her. I don’t think I can kiss a woman I am attracted to without her walking away with bruises, a burning scalp, tender nipples and tousled hair. Not that I have had any complaints so far.

I especially love it when the lady tells me later (or emails me from work) and relates how she can’t turn her head without feeling the bite marks or that she can’t move without her nipples burning against her bra. It’s like I’m with her the whole day.

It is a foreign language to me when you say that your partner hated slapping you across the face. I understand the words but they don’t compute. How could he feel that way? How could it not make him want to jump you that much more?

I know, I know… I work a little bit differently from other guys.

But what you are saying makes all the sense in the world to me. You want (or need) to surrender, to let go of the buzzing in your mind and to have someone else take the wheel while you focus on feeling and experiencing. I know that very well. I have the same want and need, only from the perfectly complementary position.

I need to control my lover. Not as in having her fetch my drinks or bathe me (although I wouldn’t mind) but as in seeing her surrender in her eyes and feeling her trust that I will look out for her while she gives herself to me. And I’m arrogant enough to think that me taking what I want from her is satisfying for her too. In so many ways I actually live the experience through her.

She’s the hub, if you will, and I am the rim. That is where I want her; in the center where everything comes together, where she is shielded from contact with the road, where she is connected with me in all directions with ribbons of light from her heart to mine.

I can’t imagine anything more beautiful and emotionally satisfying than the female surrendering to me because she’s found me worthy of her surrender and get to shield her and possess her—love her—because of that very surrender. I want her to tell me to take her, to do with her as I will, because she trusts me to keep her safe and to use her for both ours pleasure. To use her, to possess her, to make her mine.

I am perfectly open with my disposition for rough sex. Or violently tender sex. Not angry sex but primal sex, aggressive in its passion. It’s about wanting to be so close to your lover that you will go through her skin just to get inside her. I’m sure that you will get a sense of my almost desperate need for intimacy with the lady in my writing.

I like to say that I shy away from the “dominant” label because I feel that it does not convey the forces that drive me. Even though I certainly take the dominant role, obedience does not move me nearly as strongly as forcing my lover’s surrender and shaping her emotions and experience with my intimate touch.

I am not a remote, clinical sadist, although I do have my “mad scientist” days. I am passionately aggressive and in her face and raw and messy; pain is primarily a tool for me to achieve intimacy and connection with my victim. My vocabulary is in the empathic language of the torturer and the tortured.

I’m not a Master This or a Sir That and I’m certainly not going to whip you into 12 different slave positions. In the end, it is simply about her and me and us communicating and connecting the way males and females have done for aeons before we started bothering with critical thinking and political correctness. Or language, even, for that matter.

I have no idea when something crosses the line from d/s to s/m. Frankly, I don’t have the time or energy to figure that one out. Every person you ask will give you a different answer so I figure that the answer is largely irrelevant. All I care about is if the way I express myself and communicate gets through to you and you understand what I’m conveying. When I slap your face, will you understand that I am simply trying to penetrate your awareness? When I bite you, will you understand that I’m saying, “I want you?” When I pinch your nipples until you scream into my mouth, will you understand that I’m saying, “You are beautiful?”

If me yanking your hair to keep you still while I kiss you feels abusive to you, if me becoming even more aroused when I see a tear trickle down your cheek feels scary to you, if me pinning you to the wall by your throat feels like an assault, we don’t speak the same language no matter the labels we use.

It is most certainly a gradual journey although the journey can be faster than you think. Once you embark on it you may find that it feels like coming home, like you are freer than ever before and you can’t wait to experience more and more and more. It is actually quite common; if anything you should worry about being able to contain yourself and move in a reasonable speed.

I hope I’m making sense so far.

GentleSpirit:

Yes, you are making perfect sense to me. Really.

It’s amazing how fast you can get to know people here. It’s funny, someone messaged me a week ago with the following: “All I want is to see tears streaming out of those eyes.” It scared me. It did not turn me on in any way, shape or form.

When you say it, I feel differently. I think its because of trust. I have known you about 8 hours and through just simple open talking and sharing I don’t fear you in any way. Maybe I am silly (LOL). What I mean is you are not scaring me with anything you have said so far.

The thing with my ex is that I think somehow it messed with me because he was disgusted by me after that. Up until that, he was so into me. He was very angry with me and didn’t sleep with me again after that for a year. We lived together so you can imagine how that was, and he was very verbal about why and that he thought there was something mentally wrong with me.

The sex came back eventually, but it was never the same, I disconnected. I have a deep deep fear of rejection so I am not sure the effect all of this had on me, but I know it did have an impact emotionally.

I did read the writing about you and your lady. Again, written very beautifully, and I found your imagery very powerful. I was not scared reading it at all. Nothing you have said scares me. The unknown is what scares me, to be a failure scares me, to disappoint someone I love scares me. Everything pretty much scares me. I am attached to fear. I don’t know why. I have to let it go, even if you look at my profile, it is full of fear. I need to let it go, to surrender, so I can trust and love and give and accept it all back.

Wow… where did that come from? I find speaking to you very therapeutic, very healing. Your writing has this effect on me too.

Thank you for not judging me, and for being so kind to me. I am in a very unfamiliar place within myself today, I am very affected by your writing, but I cannot identify what it is I feel. I just know I have never reacted so strongly to anything ever before and I am trying to work it out in my head. That is probably the first mistake.

Do you think I am crazy yet?

Dreamwalker:

It’s the bane of my life; nobody fears me once they get to know me. Pout. Especially the masochists. I’m just a big teddy bear…

Kinda. Sorta. With sharp teeth and claws.

I speak of really intense things but I think it comes through that I hurt my lovers through desire and passion. I know about a lot of sadists/doms that build their ego on their bottoms’ expense and those brutes I would be afraid of. It is obvious that I care deeply for you when I hurt you, that I hurt you because I find you so desirable that I need to do it. And when you feel desired you aren’t afraid even though the expression of that desire hurts you.

I know so very well how much it hurts to be thought of as being mentally wrong. When I came out I was accused of being a psychopath. Still, that wasn’t a rejection like the one you suffered. I can’t even imagine how much that hurt or what kind of impact it had on you, emotionally.

The fear of the unknown is natural, GentleSpirit. It really helps to have someone take your hand and help guide you through navigating something as complex as your own emotions and desires. Especially when you are taught to think of them as wrong and not healthy. I wish I had had someone calm and experienced to guide me through my initial steps.

I had help, though, from the Spider, but she mostly pulled me out from my shell; she was not together enough to actually give me direction and a sense of rightness and safety.

I once was fortunate enough to play with a very experienced painslut and she taught me a lot but I didn’t have an emotional attachment to her and I need that more than anything else. I don’t mind casual sex or casual play but it really doesn’t satisfy me. I just wind up being hungrier afterwards.

I don’t think your profile is full of fear, GentleSpirit. You sound cautious and with good reason, I think. I can’t even imagine how scary it must be to have the urge to surrender and venture into a place where you are immediately greeted with “All I want is to see tears streaming out of those eyes.” I doubt it feels very good or gives you a fuzzy feeling about the whole thing.

I had a conversation not long ago with a friend of mine where she related her experiences in trying to get her needs met in vanilla relationships. It was heart-wrenching to listen to how vulnerable and exposed a submissive woman feels and how much strength and courage it takes to ask for what you need.

In a vanilla relationship, I, on the other hand, don’t need to ask. In fact, it may be preferable from both sides of the coin that I do not ask. All I have to do is to push, gently or not-so-gently, and pay close attention to her response.

Communication is essential, but the overwhelming portion of communication is non-verbal, and a woman communicates so much with you without needing to say a single word, as long as you pay attention to her.

All I have to do is to push and all my lover has to do is to yield, all I have to do is to lead and all she has to do is to follow. I don’t need to ask for anything and I don’t need to verbalize my needs or wants. All I have to do is to reach for something that may or may not be there.

But being a submissive, you have to communicate what you want and need. You have to expose yourself and be vulnerable and hope that the ones you choose to trust will meet those wants and needs. That must be so hard and so frustrating. Just finding a way to verbalize and communicate what you need, exposing yourself, putting yourself out there that vulnerable, is in itself a feat.

If your need is to be taken, if your need is to surrender, you have to find the strength and courage and conviction to verbalize what you want, perhaps even give him a manual or a recipe for success. You have to reduce and condense what you are and what you need into something that can be communicated intellectually. When you negotiate needs, you have to do it far removed from the emotional space in which the needs will actually be fulfilled.

That is the crux; as a top I can bring you into an emotional state of mind and keep you there while I push and prod and test your responses. The less you think, the better. The more you feel, the better. The more of your awareness that pours into your body from your head, the better. And the negotiation between us about what I need from you and what you will give stays primarily in a non-verbal, emotional, high-bandwidth space.

I think speaking to me feels therapeutic because you can sense that I am genuinely interested in you and what you are feeling. I have no standing in judging you or anyone else. I’m the one who likes hurting women, for chrissakes. As glasshouses go, mine is pretty darn fragile. Still, I can’t judge you because what you are is incredibly beautiful and magical to me. You are a treasure and I am just happy to help you figure out how to protect that treasure and to appreciate it for its beauty.

Nope, not crazy in the least. In fact, you sound saner than most. And realizing that trying to figure out this in your head is a mistake just goes to show how sane you are. You are of course correct; your brain is largely superfluous in this case. It will get in the way most of the time. In fact, you are here to a great degree because you want to take a break from it. Just like that “gone fishing” remark I made in “Why Do I Want to be Hurt?”

The fact that you have never reacted this strongly about anything ever before is a significant indicator that you should invest the time and effort in researching this aspect of yourself and explore it. If just reading about this causes such a reaction, how do you think experiencing it will feel? For better or worse, you will never want to go back. You will be ruined for “normal” sex for the rest of your life. And you won’t mind a bit.

What you can experience with someone who is your perfect complement and you both descend into the primal and elemental connection between a male and a female, where the female surrenders all of herself to him, is not out of this world. It is the world. It’s the kind of experience that makes you happy that you are male (or female in your case) and that you are alive.

GentleSpirit:

I do have a couple of questions to ask. Is it normal to have fear and to be afraid when you are exploring this? Have you ever been with someone that you could see was afraid of what was happening, or what might happen? How did that make you feel?

Dreamwalker:

Of course it’s normal to be afraid. You are essentially standing on the ledge of a chasm and you’re considering jumping in, figuring that you’ll learn how to fly on the way down.

Yes, I have been with lovers that were afraid or apprehensive but everyone took my hand because they trusted me to keep them safe. That must be one of the biggest rushes I get; when I see the anxiety in her eyes and the only reason she chooses to go through with it is because she trusts me. Me. It means so much to me because I trust their judgment.

The answer to your question about how it made me feel is that it made me feel honored, it made me feel very possessive and intensely protective. I felt like I was entrusted with something fragile and precious and it made me want to live up to that trust even more.

And it has always been such a reward to see the triumph in her eyes and pride and sheer awe afterwards.

“Oh my G-d, I didn’t know I could feel this way!”

I have been lucky, though. I have been privileged with having mostly positive experiences. But that’s probably because I am picky about who I engage with. I need an emotional connection beforehand and if we already have that, we are already well on our way.

The only experience that concluded in a non-positive way was the one I wrote about in “I Touched an Angel Last Night.” I believed her when she overstated her experience and I went a little too deep the first time. I am different in that I go for your heart rather than trying to make you hurt and she had no experience with an emotional assault like that; she was used to the more common floggers and whips and crosses and impersonal dungeon stuff.

I came at her with an emotional intensity I believed she was yearning for and we came across an emotional landmine with her ex. She crumbled and cried and needed to stop. We met again two weeks later and worked very well together but we never met again after that; we didn’t really mesh personality-wise.

GentleSpirit:

Just so you know who you are speaking to. The brunette pics are last couple weeks. I was blonde up until then. The third pic is a couple of months old, and the last one was me being silly for my sons exhibition football game. This one is about a year ago. Again, it probably goes without saying, but for you only.

Dreamwalker:

I think I like you better as a brunette, but I have a thing for brunettes and redheads. Long hair, please; it’s more to grab hold of and I tend to keep my hands in the lady’s hair a lot. I just like her hair. Shrugs.

Having grown up in Sweden where every girl was blonde (slight exaggeration but only slight) made me think that brunettes and redheads were exotic.

I like your eyes and you have a lovely smile. “pic” is my favorite of these pictures.

So what’s your natural hair color? Or don’t you remember? Grins.

Read our continued correspondence in Love letters: The second day.

GentleSpirit asked me to read something she wrote this morning. I did so while she looked at me intently. Once I was done, she asked what I thought. My response: “You fucking made me cry.”

I never feared death until now. I have tried to be logical about it. I have only asked God to give me enough time to raise my son.

I have asked him to give me enough time that he won’t be permanently scarred as I am all he has. He needs me, for now, but my deal with God has always been this: “God, please give me enough time to raise him, to see him into manhood, if you please give me this, I will not ask for more.”

Let’s be realistic about it that in itself is a gift. Every day is a gift. My purpose was to raise my son, and having the opportunity to love him, be his mother, the privilege of raising him and knowing that feeling of unconditional love was more than most people could ask for.

Now, though, I have found something else. Something for me. A different love than maternal love, but one just as fulfilling nonetheless.

I never thought that there could be a love as compelling as the love for a child. This love though while different is just as fulfilling, just as compelling. It is filling me, strengthening me. It is a giving love, an accepting love. I feel protected in the way I protect my son.

I am everything for my son. I am his stability. I take care of his needs, I advise him, I help him, I cry when he hurts, I am his security and his safety.

My Dreamwalker gives all of this to me. I don’t feel alone, he makes me feel safe and loved and accepted. I have never received such a gift in all of my life, and never will I understand what on earth I ever did to deserve it. But, now… I beg you, God, for an extension.

I need to make a new deal, please.

I am so afraid that after finding this beautiful love, my beautiful Dreamwalker, that God is going to make good on our deal. Spiritually, I believe that the spirit never dies, that we become something else and move to our next destination. I just hope to take that journey with Dreamwalker, after we have lived a long life together. I want to ask God for an extension. Please.

I know it is selfish, but if you could just give me this. I am afraid that death will take him from me or me from him. I fear this so much because in my heart I know that only death will separate us.

It seems irrational, but it is the one unknown, the one thing that we can be certain will happen, but none of us know when. Brings to mind Winnie the Pooh and the quote… “If you live to be 100, I hope to live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you.”

That’s it. I have found something that has been given to me by God and only God can take it away from me. And I pray a new prayer,

“Please God, don’t take it away. I know what I promised, and as that day draws closer, I want to beg you to give us our time together.

“We have just found each other, we will do good things in our lives together. We will help others. I will never take any day for granted, but please, give us time, keep us safe in your light.”

I Pray.

I was at my computer looking at her past the screen, sitting on the sofa and curled up with her laptop, probably on FetLife and most likely stirring up some dust and making people laugh like she is so fond of doing.

I was enthusiastically explaining the intricacies of stock options and how, by trading with time-spreads, you can make money in a sideways market by essentially waiting for nothing to happen.

Throughout my diatribe, she looked at me intently, no sign at all of eyes glassing over. Encouraged, I could see that she was intensely considering the financial implications of trading in not only bullish and bearish markets but even in non-trending markets.

I saw a light go off behind those lively, green eyes and a smile graced her face. I stopped my monologue and invited her to jump in and contribute her insight.

Her smile grew wider and then she proclaimed with complete conviction,

“Your come tastes really good.”

“Thank you,” she whispered in the darkness while reaching in for a kiss, sincere gratitude tinting her voice just like the scent of my seed tinted her breath.

Still dazed from my release, the evidence of which now kept warm and safe inside her, I kissed her, not saying a word. Instead, I reached up an unsteady hand and found her smooth cheek in the darkness and stroked it gently.

With a contented sigh, she snuggled tight into the crook of my neck. I squeezed her shoulders and pulled her closer to me and the steady rhythm of her relaxed breath lulled me slowly back to reality.

Then, wordlessly, she reached out her little hand and found mine, useless, resting on my chest, and pulled it to rest on her breast.

I smiled in the darkness. I knew what she wanted.

I heard a delighted little gasp as my fingers quickly found an erect nipple and started toying with it.

I rolled it between my fingers. Flicking. Pulling.

Lusty little moans escaped her lips when I squeezed. A surprised (but not really that surprised) squeal when I pinched.

She has really sensitive nipples, that one. A good quality in a woman, for sure.

Pinching. I can’t help myself. I like to pinch. I’m a pincher. That’s what I do.

Well… it’s one of the things I do.

I just happen to have a thing for pinching nipples and over the years I have developed a pretty strong grip. I remember one dear friend once telling me in a little voice that my fingers were worse than any clamps.

Grins.

Anyway…

I didn’t let up. I pinched hard.

Harder.

Her head flew backwards and her back arched. No moan, no gasp; a sharp intake of breath was nearly drowned out by the ruffle of the sheets accommodating her motion. Nearly but not quite.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

Three.

I held the pressure and slowly she accepted the sensation into herself and flowed back down. Still holding on to her nipple I pulled her to me with my other arm around her neck and shoulders.

She buried her face into the nook of my neck again and I kissed her forehead.

“I love you.”

I can’t remember if I whispered it loud enough for her to hear. Regardless, she didn’t respond. She was focused on engulfing the white-hot searing pain in her nipple.

As her breath became deeper and more peaceful again I lovingly grazed my lips on her forehead. Then I rapidly doubled the pressure on her tortured nipple.

I felt her stiffen in my embrace and a stunned, primal… something sounded behind her closed lips before she had a chance to open them for a proper gasp. By the time her lips parted, there was no more sound escaping her mouth.

Unresponsive to external stimuli, save for what was happening to her nipple, her body rigid in my embrace, her head thrown back against my arm, she never even made a move to escape from what I was doing to her.

In fact, as she slowly—slower than the previous time—found a new equilibrium with the pain, I kissed her forehead and her eyelids and her cheek and I felt her kiss my shoulder in response.

She kissed my shoulder.

But then again, I was still only using less than half my strength.

So far.

“I can’t take any more without screaming,” she panted/hissed/begged from behind clenched teeth. Mama and papa Dreamwalker, visiting from Sweden, were sleeping soundly in the next room so I gave her the knuckles of my hand around her neck to bite on and held her tightly.

And then I pinched with all my strength.

It is such a warm and inviting place, that dark space deep within the sadist’s soul, where the demon resides, and I am sometimes fearful of letting go lest I will lose myself in there and never again emerge.

Yet emerge I do. Every time. Because there is no demon.

There is no demon.

There is only me, a man and not a demon, and this is the way I love. This is the only way I can love, and as such, the lady deserves me to let go, to abandon myself in expressing my love.

She deserves nothing less.  

GentleSpirit’s question on FetLife reads:

Is there any one trait that you look for in a submissive over others? Is it looks, personality, or something else?

A: They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. However, the way to my heart is through my eyes.

As a poet, I again and again discover how important it is to me that she can and will express herself in writing.

Her written voice gives me another window into her soul, one which oftentimes leaves her more vulnerable, more… exposed, than when speaking. Perhaps because she is less self-conscious without me watching her, no matter how encouragingly, as she is laying her beating heart out on a silver platter for me.

I am a quiet man and language doesn’t always come easy to me. Sometimes I need to pause between sentences to search for expressions and when listening, sometimes I find myself lost in reverie from a word or a phrase. Maybe I’m slow because sometimes speech seems too fast, too… flippant, to express the complex currents of emotion that have us so tightly in their grip.

Honesty and integrity, yes. Intelligence and humor, of course. And, naturally, a round, scrumptious butt. He he. All these are important qualities, and necessary for me.

But when I can see her heartbeat between the words, then she has my full attention. When I can see her breath between the sentences, then I know that she is for me.

When I can see her passion and her grace between the paragraphs, then I know that I am for her.

This question on FetLife reads:

Just wondering if it’s more arousing to a sadist to hurt someone who is willing to suffer and endure some pain but doesn’t actually enjoy the pain itself but, rather, enjoys that the enduring pleases the sadist?

Or do most sadists find more arousal in someone who loves to be hurt?

Which is the preference?

A: Maybe I haven’t grown into my domly shoes yet, but inflicting myself on someone who is only doing it to please me would make me feel like a thug, a bully, a… monster. (And not a monster of the sexy kind.)

Note that there are many bottoms that submit to pain in order to please their tops and I find it admirable and actually quite romantic. It is just that I must have entitlement-issues that prevent me from relaxing into it and accepting such a sacrifice.

To me, it would feel like I have been the recipient of pity-sex and it is hard for me to find the emotional connection there. Maybe it’s because I fundamentally need to please my victim as much as taking my pleasure from her too.

There is nothing more arousing than seeing lust burning behind a sheen of tears in her eyes. There is nothing more connecting than her falling to her knees in agony, sightless eyes staring into the ceiling, breath catching while she processes my latest kiss, and then hearing her finally whisper, “That was yummy.”

Believe it or not, but amongst the tears and the begging and the screaming, Dreamwalker is looking for approval.

I ran my nails down her unprotected, vulnerable throat. She gasped but did nothing to protect herself or even tilt her head down. My hand settled at the bottom of her throat and grasped it possessively.

Her green eyes rested on mine for several breaths, breaths of hers that I could feel through my grip of her throat.

“Why do you need to hurt me?”

There was no judgment or accusation in her voice; the question came from her deep desire to understand me. To understand us.

I thought on the answer for a time that seemed longer than it really was.

“It’s my nature,” I answered and pulled her towards me by the throat to kiss her.

I just got a text that is so beautiful that I want to share it with everyone. Everyone: this is GentleSpirit.

Making love to you is about the journey and not the destination. I love it and it’s wonderful, all of it, and I want to get lost with you.

And sometimes we will get lost on the wrong side of town but I will feel safe because I know you won’t let any harm come to me. Other times we will get lost and discover the most beautiful parts of each other and we will be in awe at the raw beauty we see.

But the most important thing is that we take this journey together, holding hands until we finally reach our ultimate destiny. I love you.

I love you too, girl.

“Hello, there. How are you doing?

“Do you come here often?

“What’s your name? Richard? I think I’ll call you…

“Dick.”

Oy vey, I thought, as she was chatting up my cock. I couldn’t help but chuckle. She turned her head, causing her long, black hair slide over the glans and smiled.

“Do you mind?”

“No. By all means, go ahead.” I made a grand inviting gesture; have at it.

She chastely kissed the tip and then slowly slid farther and farther down, only stopping when her nose was pressed against my crotch. Staying there, her tongue slid up and down the length of the shaft and she started making those magical swallowing motions that make me feel like I’m being devoured alive by warm, slick softness.

Ahhh…

I settled in for a quiet, peaceful cock-worship session and I could feel her also settling in for the long haul in a comfortable position.

Then,

♪ Do–a deer a female deer ♪

Huh?

♪ Re–a drop of golden sun ♪

What?

♪ Mi–a name I call myself ♪

What’s going on?

♪ Fa–a long, long way to run ♪

She’s humming!

♪ So–a needle pulling thread ♪

What is she humming? I recognize it.

♪ La–a note to follow So ♪

That’s… that’s from Sound of Music!

♪ Ti–a drink with jam and bread ♪

Show tunes! She’s humming show tunes!

♪ That will bring us back to Do ♪

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪

Speechless, I stared in disbelief at the silky mass of black hair by my crotch. A remote part of my brain questioned if the inclusion of show tunes in some twisted way made the whole experience gay. I quickly dismissed that thought and decided that it simply made it severely kinky.

Meanwhile, she busted out in,

♪ The hills are aliiiive with the Sound of Muuuuusic! ♪

It became too much for me when she, with earnest gusto, included the background choir,

♪ Ah-ah-ah-ah ♪

I burst out laughing. Oh, man. What can you possibly say about that? Nothing in my life ever prepared me for this bizarre turn of events. Was I dreaming?

She stopped humming and peered up at me, beaming. “I was wondering on my way home today… when they talk about hummers, does that mean that they hum while giving blow jobs?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Like that?”

“Mmmpphhh…” I was stifling a laugh attack and squealed, “No…

“I think most people just hum aimlessly,” I labored out with one hand covering my mouth.

“Like this?” She asked and sucked me in again and made the sound of a fishing trawler’s fog horn.

“Eeeep!” That was intense. “I guess…”

“But that’s so boring! Doesn’t it feel better this way?”

Before I could respond, she devoured me again and hummed Ave Maria with my dick in her mouth.

I sank back onto the pillow and rolled my eyes. Images of Franz Schubert spinning in his grave flashed before my eyes. Oh, holy Mother of God…

Finally, she concluded her performance with The Star-Spangled Banner. Why not? After all, I was already at attention. Although I did find myself idly wondering how many men would have stayed rigid through this… experience.

Truth be told, I was just happy that she hadn’t chosen the music of Gilbert and Sullivan. I didn’t actually have to keep a straight face but there’s no way my shaft would have remained straight through a medley of topsy-turvy librettos.

She studied me with laughing green eyes while I struggled to compose myself before asking as intelligibly as I could muster,

“Do you take requests?”

1. Girls. They are freaking cool and an awesome invention. God had a good day when he came up with those. They are soft and pretty and smell good. And they have delightful little butts.
    
2. Coffee. That was another good day that makes my days better.
    
3. GPS Navigators. Having just moved to Orange County, California, one of those is indispensible. I remember printing out directions from Google maps and never being able to deviate. If I missed an exit, I had to retrace my steps lest the instructions would be useless. These things make getting lost fun.
    
4. Internet. I honestly can’t remember life before the internet. Can you? Really?
    
5. The kink community in general and FetLife in particular. I have made real and good friends in this community, locally and on the web. More and better than before I came out. You guys are awesome. Truly awesome.
    
6. Coffee. Well, so I just made a new cup. So I like it. So what?
    
7. DVRs. Can’t remember the last time I saw a commercial. I feel wonderfully uninformed about current purchasing trends and I no longer know way too much about feminine hygiene products. Sorry girls, but I prefer your visits to the powder room to be clouded behind a veil of magic.
    
8. Kilts. Girls get really curious what’s underneath that kilt. Do the math.
    
9. Skirts. Guys know what’s underneath that skirt. Do the math.
    
10. Starbucks. Yeah, well…
     
11. iPhone. I love my iPhone. Recently, I discovered that you can make calls on it too, not just browse the web, check email, and text people. W@@t! They think of everything.
     
12. Amazon. I order dog food and cat litter from Amazon and the FedEx guy huffingly and puffingly delivers it at my door step. Gotta love that. Really. I’m a lazy bastard.
     
13. The baker’s dozen. Can’t knock ordering a dozen bear claws and getting 13 or thinking that you will get a list of top 10 inventions and then getting three for free. Just sayin’…

My girl, GentleSpirit is a beautiful, generous, vibrant and magnificent woman. She has the biggest heart I have ever come across and the sharpest mind. For some reason, it seems that she tries to tone down how smart she really is, but, spending as much time as I do with her, she can’t keep the pretense going all the time.

She is also one of the funniest women I have ever met. I remember writhing in pain from sore stomach muscles after laughing too much in the beginning of our relationship. I still do from time to time but not so much anymore; I chalk that up to my stomach muscles getting more toned. They can simply take more nowadays. Grins.

You couldn’t beat the goofy out of her even if you tried. She’s the kind that will put out her palm and exclaim,

“STOP… Vanilla time!
“U can’t spank this!”

All the while doing the MC Hammer shuffle.

All you dominants with submissives who like to brat around on occasion, remember that image and it really won’t seems so bad.

I remember a moment with GentleSpirit being her delightful bratty self like it was yesterday. It’s a 4-hour long drive from Las Vegas to Los Angeles (if I’m driving; if she’s driving it’s a 3-hour drive!) and you have to find things to entertain yourself with. Last time we made the trek she was bored and on her period and was quite the handful all the way back.

Less than an hour from our destination, she got impatient when I didn’t immediately respond to something she said and all of a sudden I felt a knocking on my head.

“Hello? McFly? Anybody in there?”

Without taking my eyes off the road, I flung out my right arm across her chest and found her right nipple and tweaked it hard. A surprised yelp and squeal later, I had almost a whole minute of blessed silence. After that, she was much more soft and pliant.

Or “calm and submissive,” as Cesar Millan, Dog Whisperer calls it.

Heh.

The thing is, she likes wearing these padded bras that make it hard to pinch her nipples through them. I have tried many times and she’ll just look me in the eye and smirk as I ineffectually pinch the padding without reaching her nipple. She calls them “armor-bras” and they do a very good job of protecting her incredibly sensitive and tender nipples.

But that moment on the road, when I really needed it, my aim was perfect (even without looking) and I managed to get hold of the nipple through all that padding.

Bullseye.

“I’ve had quite a bit of alcohol tonight, so I don’t think I can come,” I mumbled while weaving my fingers into her long, thick, black hair.

“That’s okay,” she responded, “I just love the feel of you in my mouth. I really want to taste you.”

The room was pitch-black but I could hear the smile in her voice. I have come to associate that inflection in her voice with a shy smile and a twinkle in those green eyes. She really wanted me in her mouth.

We had stumbled to bed at her place after visiting with friends and finishing a few bottles of unfamiliar but quite tasty Cabernet Sauvignon. I was sleepy from the alcohol but I’ll be darned if I turn down cock worship so graciously offered.

I simply didn’t want her to feel disappointed if I didn’t come, so with my alcohol-related disclaimer in place, I pulled her face to mine by her hair and said, “Alright, but no pressure,” and kissed her in the darkness.

“No pressure,” she echoed and scooted down while flinging the comforter off me and made herself comfortable over my limp cock.

A few, tentative licks as a greeting, and then I was engulfed in gentle, heavenly softness, as if whispering, Come in. Deeper. Just let go. Relax and enjoy yourself.

No pressure.

No pressure, indeed. Even the sloppiest cunt will offer at least token resistance, and when I take her ass with no lubrication there is quite a bit of resistance, but her mouth offers no resistance whatsoever. There is nothing to do, nothing to accomplish; there is just this instant sensation of being engulfed, cradled. It is such a loving, inviting, intimate, nurturing feeling being lost inside her.

I love her mouth. Truly and completely. I remember that, in the beginning of our relationship, it felt like sticking my dick into a spool of barbed wire. Those teeth were everywhere. I remember thinking, Goodness gracious, the first time her teeth made my dick burn.

Ed’s note: “goodness gracious” is in this case employed as what’s called “a euphemism” and was not the actual phrase that went through my head.

I would hiss, “Teeth! Watch the teeth!” to her and she’d blush prettily. Not that I made the job easy for her. I remember one time early on when I was in her mouth and I was spanking her at the same time. Those little razor-sharp teeth would chomp down on me with my blows and I would grit out through my teeth, “Continue.”

Heh, she actually mentioned it in passing here, not realizing that the coldness in my voice was in part due to my own suffering for my art:

…whimpering around your cock as I tried to wiggle away from the sting of your hand crashing down on my ass one after the other. You grabbing me around the waist and forcing me to accept each blow as you coldly ordered, “CONTINUE.”

And as time went by, I would give her some hints in the interest of self-preservation and the longevity of my appendage and—I’ll be darned—that girl learns quickly.

Incredibly quickly.

One evening a month later she took me in her mouth and brought me to release. And I don’t know which one of us was more surprised. Long before I met her I had resigned myself to being an almost impossible nut to crack when it came to coming through oral stimulation.

But she did it again the next morning, showing that it wasn’t just a fluke. And she would show it again and again and again in the days and weeks to come.

That day, the girl with the smiling green eyes walked around with my seed on her breath, smug like the cat that had swallowed the proverbial canary. The Cheshire cat had nothing on her that day.

Anyway. Back to last night.

“Good girl,” I heard myself mumbling as I felt her throat opening up to take me in all the way. My hand found her head and petted her silky hair while her tongue danced around my cock deep inside her. My hand on her head made her sink down the last fraction of an inch.

I could feel her lips tense around me in a way that I have come to associate with her smiling and, pulling back bit to breathe for a few seconds, she cooed back, gently vibrating my sensitive glans and making me involuntarily push back in.

I breathed a sigh of relief, grasped her neck and pushed the girl down and held her down, nose and lips mashed to my crotch. Relaxing completely and offering no resistance, she took everything I had to give her into herself.

And I poured my entire being into my girl’s soft, inviting warmth.

Where there’s no pressure.

Where I belong.

This FetLife question reads thusly: As a D-type, how do you process making a consensual, willing partner really, truly suffer? Is there a point at which it becomes clear to you that your partner is in the “hate it zone?” Is this for you a sign to stop? Or is it more like a carrot dangling that says, “Charge! Now’s when the fun really starts!” How do you feel after?

A: With me, there are no hard, fast rules about practically anything. It depends on my mood and her mood whether I consider the “hate it zone” a sign to stop or a sign that the warm-up just ended and that she is fully receptive for the sadist in me to make love to her.

And that’s exactly what it is for us. The moments when GentleSpirit is in so much agony that she can’t even draw a breath to scream, or when her long, black hair is plastered to her face and she can’t even move her arms to cover herself up, or when I muffle her screams with my hand and her little hands shoot up to cover her own mouth over my hand because she cannot stop screaming, that’s when the sadist in me is making love to her.

There are no times when we are more intimate, connected more deeply, and more complete than during (and after) those times. It is making love primally, elementally, with our hearts and our souls, rather than with our minds.

So how do I process making a consensual, willing partner really, truly suffer?

Generally, I rely on my sensitivity to her responses to me, on my empathy with her to guide me. I have no wish to harm her and it is not even really about hurting her; in the end it is about connecting with her, of making love with her. And, yes, of pleasing her too in my own Safe, Sick, and Consensual way; her pleasure may not be immediately obvious while I touch her but it is most definitely there afterwards.

I once said this to a fellow sadist:

I think that might be the golden rule of thumb in assessing success for the likes of us; the lady may question her sanity at the time, but when everything is said and done, she should shyly, or not so shyly, ask when we can do it again. She may be glad that the ordeal is over, but the next day, or the next week, she should be thinking about it, reliving it, feeling her skin tingling for that particular touch, feeling her heart tingling for that particular emotion again.

She is the emotional engine in the relationship. It is through her emotions and her responses and her acceptance of me and my needs that we both draw strength from our relationship. And, believe it or not, my burning touch gives her emotional spa-days vital for her peace of mind and wellbeing.

GentleSpirit once told me:

I know you worry from time to time that I am just suffering through pain, but darling, oh how I crave it. I need it. When we make love, to me it is like a beautiful, delicious Indian spicy spicy curry. It burns, nose is running, eyes watering, tongue on fire, but you can’t stop eating it. You crave that burn. This is how it feels for me. I crave your burn.

But I don’t always process making this beautiful, magnificent woman suffer very well. On occasion after a more intense session I suffer top-drop laced with guilt, for instance. Interestingly enough, it is actually not guilt about what I have done but rather about what I could have done. A pre-emptive guilt about what I learn that I am capable of, if you will, even though I may never go there.

I’m not saying this to make myself sound gnarly; this is a truly frightening feeling for a thinking man, a man who can’t bear the thought of shying away from his own mirror-image in the morning.

It is like the sinking feeling you may feel after avoiding a crash on the freeway more or less by pure luck, when you continue driving unscathed with a clump in your throat but your mind is left at the spot of that close-call, shrinking in the rear view mirror behind you. You find yourself playing nightmare scenarios in your head of what could have been.

It is like being afforded a brief look behind the veil over Dorian Gray’s painting; when I am in that place I feel like I get glimpses of what I truly am and what I really look like and it can be… disconcerting.

That is one of the things I struggle with, no matter how much she assures me that she knows that I am a good man and that I would never harm her. After all, I am not a machine and I am not Superman; when she suffers and spills her tears for me and on me, how can I possibly guarantee that I won’t snap and feed deeper? How can I possibly promise that I will not feed more from her than she can afford to give?

Sigh. Nobody can.

After all, we are dancing on the edge of reason here; the deeper she sinks into the primal and the elemental, the deeper she draws me in as well. Is it reasonable to remain calm and collected and completely in my head while she loses herself for the benefit of us both? Doesn’t she deserve me to make the journey with her? To hold her hand in free-fall rather than dispassionately watching her descend from the safety of the ledge of reason?

I don’t want to push her off the ledge. I want to leap into the void and pull her along with me, holding hands as we descend.

Together.

This is my contribution to the ensuing discussion between dominants in response to the following question posed by GentleSpirit in the “Ask a Dominant Questions” on FetLife.

Q: I have read a lot about Dominants who choose to cut off contact with their submissive for a prolonged (days, week or more) period of time as a punishment. Personally I believe this to be emotionally abusive and cruel and unusual punishment. Are there any circumstances that you feel warrants this type of reaction, and if so, what would those circumstances be?

One of the fundamental things in this, the thing that we do, is the profound and soul-clenching intimacy and closeness and trust that we build together. Isn’t that what it is all about for us dominants? To reach into our submissives’ hearts and souls, to shape their sensations, their experience, their very feelings?

Many moons ago, I was taught, above all else, to leave my submissive better than I found her. That means being a rock for her to hold on to when she’s thrown around in the storm, be it in her life or in her emotions. That means being the one constant thing she can always, always, count on. That means being the steward of everything that she has surrendered to you.

Many say, “to each his own,” and, “everything in this lifestyle is a matter of preference.”

Yes, to each his own, and yes, everything is a matter of preference. But not all preferences should be catered to.

I am a lazy bastard and I do have a preference for skirting unpleasant tasks. And real, effective, constructive punishment, as opposed to the play punishments we all indulge in from time to time, is sincerely hard and sometimes unpleasant work.

Yes, it’s hard. Being a dominant is hard. Make no mistake about that; if it isn’t hard, you’re doing it wrong.

I’m sure that most of us can understand the occasional temptation to sometimes take the easy way out and impose a punishment that requires nothing from us. I know of dominants that view it as a vacation, even!

But a fundamental responsibility for us, the dominants in our relationships, is to exercise judgment and to do The Right Thing even if it might go against our own preferences. It is our privilege to use our submissives but we are also called on to sacrifice when necessary. And the hardest part is that there is no arbiter telling us when to do so; we need to figure that one out for ourselves.

Is cutting off contact really The Right Thing to do? Ever?

Cutting off contact for prolonged periods of time is detrimental to the submissive at a point in time when she needs leadership the most. Our submissives deserve to know, and much more importantly, need to know that we are not only their dominants on sunny days but especially during those rainy days when it may not be that much fun being the dominant in the relationship. How else can they ever feel safe with us? To feel safe enough to surrender everything?

Punishment without the purpose of promoting desired behavior is simply revenge. I wouldn’t treat my dog like that, much less a beautiful, vibrant, complex, magnificent woman.

The relationships we foster are stronger, closer, more intimate than the ones we see in the vanilla world. They don’t get there without both partners being present in it and for each other. As dominants, it behooves us to know our submissives better than they know themselves; how can we truly know them if we remove ourselves from entire aspects of them?