June 10th, 2009

Control. I look for control in my life, control of my life. In the day to day, there are lots of things out of my control. There are also things I am trying to take more control over: my career, my health, my future. In the scene, I am drawn to people who are in control: of themselves, of their surroundings, of their lives.


I enjoy bondage, giving up control of my body, of movement. In suspension, I am giving up even more control, I may be able to control my spin or the swing to some extent, but only if my rigger allows it. Bondage is freedom, as many say. It is, to me, giving up all physical control and a setting free of the mind. Therefore my rigger needs to be someone who I can give up that control to, needs to be someone I view as in complete control of himself and his surroundings.


The same goes for pain scenes. I must believe he is in complete control of himself, the scene, of the pain he is causing. In harder scenes, I also need him in control of me either mentally or physically, and sometimes both.


My scene at the play party was a good example. He strung me up quickly and securely, and went straight to the flogger. It wrapped around my hip, but I knew he was doing it on purpose and he even teased me about it, letting the peanut gallery know he was in complete control as well. The paddles struck hard and as I spun and yelped he grinned and kept my eyes, growling softly, stalking me, planning each strike. As he grabbed for the leather tails to finish, and I dropped into pain space, breathing heavily, he caught me with his eyes and held me as firmly as the rope on my wrists. Then we finished with his favorite, forced, controlled orgasms as I hung, exhausted from the ring. A scene in less than fifteen minutes, start to finish, and completely controlled.


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