Emo Attic

What Am I, Part 2

Okay, I’m in a sour mood and very emotional, and I swear my Dom sometimes has the worst timing cos both times I’m feeling like I do now, He would propose an ex tempore session. Yes yes, I know, I could have said no of course, I’m not a slave after all, but I also crave pain and pleasure all the fucking time. I apologize already now, I am going to use the word ‘fuck’ a lot in this post. Cos while I was more emo this morning, after an intense session I’m more like pissed. And yes, as my friend whom I whine about these stuff, I could talk about these stuff face to face for example to my Dom, but I still think it unfair to drag Him through the mud. Although He sometimes can be the trigger, He certainly isn’t the one to blame. Thus, I’m more than glad I have this blog, as it forces me to remain semi-coherent but at the same time vent like a motherfucker.

First of all, have you ever heard the joke about husbands and wives department stores? It’s really an old story/joke, and I don’t quite remember the specifics well, but here’s my rendition:

“A new department store sells Husbands to all the ladies. There’s ten floor of husbands to select from. The only rule is, once you ascend to the higher floor, you can’t go back down to pick your husband again. A woman walks in, and on the first floor they sold husbands who have a job. Not quite impressed and terribly curious, the woman went up to the second floor where they sold husbands who have a job and a car. Still not quite impressed the woman kept going up. The higher she gets, the better the ‘deals’ sound. Husbands who have a job, a car, are good-looking, remembers anniversaries, have a romantic streak, like kids, and so forth. The woman kept going up and up until she arrived at the tenth floor, where there was just one solitary sign saying: Congratulations, you have reached the top floor, effectively proving to all of mankind that women are indeed impossible to please. Thank you for visiting the Husband store.

Straight across the street there was the Wives store, same rules, different aspects. A man walked in, in hopes of finding a wife. The first floor they sold wives who like sex. Already mighty impressed the man ascended to the second floor where they sold wives who like sex and who are pretty.

No man has ever seen the third floor.”

It’s a funny story. I didn’t put this here to laugh at my fellow sisters, or even try to claim that I’m not needy, that I settle for less. I don’t ever settle, if I do, I would be married and probably with kids that I never ever wanted already. I put this story here cos, not to brag, I’m the girl who sits on the 9th floor. Me and my other single friends, we are all girls on the 9th floor. This is kinda an angry letter to all those men who ever complained to me why they were married to a princess who only gives them blowjobs four times a year, their birthday, her birthday, Christmas and wedding anniversary. To those men I say FUCK YOU GUYS, you are the ones who married the princess on the 2nd floor. Okay, sorry. Let me get less cryptic and more into myself. On my previous post about what I am, I already talked about that I am a submissive, a masochist and a service sub. On part two, I’m going to talk about what else I am. More about me as a woman, less about the BDSM side.

I am a gamer.
In the sense that I choose my battles. I am competitive. Never challenge me if you’re not ready to bring it. Because I will crush you. I always say I’m a sour loser. Nobody likes losing, I’m not a particularly graceful one, but I’m a fair one. I will admit defeat readily when it’s the fact. I hardly ever take unnecessary risks, for example I don’t like gambling with money, cos I don’t really care about winning money. But when it comes to a reward that I truly want and care about, I without doubt or hesitation will risk it all.

I am a believer.
I hope. A lot. There are never doubts in my mind that there’s someone for me, who would see me as I am, love me all that I am. No matter how many times my heart gets broken into pieces, I still believe. Cos, going back to my gamer personality, if I let my past dictate my future, if I let anyone who hurt me change me for the worse, that’s when I truly have lost. And that’s so not an option.

I am strong.
Because I never had a choice. I was raised to be strong, cos I couldn’t afford to be weak. No one, not my parents in a foreign country, who depended on me, ever let me be weak. You think I don’t want to be spoiled and I don’t want to treated like a princess? Every strong woman wants to be treated like a queen, but hardly ever anyone sees the need to, because they are strong. I can do it all by myself, not because I want to, because I had to. Because I don’t pretend to be too weak to carry the weight of the world on my shoulder, DOES NOT mean I don’t want arms to hold me in one piece when it all gets to be too much on some days, and I am on my knees, not on my own volition, but because I just simply couldn’t stand anymore.

I am independent.
Again, because I never had a choice. I was the only child, raised by parents who worked the minimum wage all day and all night. I learnt to be alone at a young age. I learnt to love to spend time with myself. I learnt to love myself. I’m never bored, I love living alone, and I love to be independent. Nonetheless, I want to have someone to lean on. Someone to depend on.

I am confident, sometimes even arrogant.
I know what I’m capable of, I know exactly just how awesome I am. I take pride at what I can do, what I can take, and where is my limits. I am proud of the fact that maybe I don’t even have limits on someday. Again coming back to my gamer personality. I like to win although it’s not always a game.

I am a slut.
Because I know what I like. Because I am a hedonist deep down. I could resist anything but temptation. I want to experience everything, I want to feel. Whenever, with whomever, consequences and my heart be damned.

I am straight-forward.
And sometimes I might even sound mean. Don’t kid yourself, I just say out loud things what many people think in their head anyways. I’m sarcastic and I have a sharp tongue when in a bad mood. People who are sensitive or have never have to hold their own, they tend to avoid people like me. If you can’t take the heat, then get the fuck out of my kitchen.

I am loyal.
Once you have me, you have me. I’m an extremely loyal person. When I mark someone as my ‘king’ to ‘serve’, that’s it. Although I say I am poly, the fact, a little sad, is that I don’t mind not being the only subject, but I just want and need one king.

___

I have asked my Dom about whether He thinks that I wouldn’t even like the gentler or affectionate stuff, like sensual domination, because I can take a lot of pain, and my mental health stays intact during rough sessions too. I am more than proud and happy that with me He can let go sometimes, and not hold back. But I think it’s more than unfair to not be so affectionate with me just because I like to be on the edge of my pain threshold. Like today, first time that I actually wanted to slap Him in the face. After an intense ex tempore session, where He actually admitted afterwards that He couldn’t spank me any harder that what He did, that He was thrilled that I was completely fine right afterwards and joking around. That I couldn’t be broken with pain. That’s because I am used to it. Physical pain is nothing compared to non-physical pain and I can’t be broken with physical pain because I have never quite let go of myself. I am the one holding me in one piece mentally. Not because I want to be the one. All I wanted to do is curled up and cry in somebody’s arms after an intense session like the one I had today. But I kept that all inside. I kept the mood light. I kept my space. Because no one has ever let me break down. No one has ever made me.

Trust me, more than once I have been told that I need to ask for affection if I want it. I could just crawl into somebody’s arms when I want to be hugged. The submissive side is however very strong in me. While I don’t mind taking initiative, I don’t mind asking, but the fact is I don’t want to. As soon as a request for something, may be it affection or a hug or a kiss, leaves my mouth, I don’t want it anymore. At least not the same way I wanted it before I asked for it. I’m never going to be that person who tells their significant other what they want as a gift. That’s why I never ask for things that actually counts. But what makes me so fucking pissed of today is the fact I thought that good behavior would be rewarded, at least in the world of BDSM and D/s.

The possibility has crossed my mind that I might come off as cold, especially when I close up sometimes and with my body language I give out a sign that might say ‘don’t you fucking touch me’. I do that because there’s a tiny little voice constantly at the back of my head saying maybe I’m not worth the affection. Of course, the another cruel possibility has crossed my mind multiple times too, that maybe I am only good for certain things for some people.

I am also terrible at confronting people. I get too emotional. I get mean. I say things I don’t mean. That’s why I stay silent when I’m sad, angry or just otherwise in a bad place. I brush it off with sarcastic responses. I defend myself with jokes and laughter. I don’t want to say anything that’s hard to take back later. That’s why I like to write, cos it clears my head and I can take my take to say my mind without influence or interruptions of others.

I am all that that I mentioned before but I also longed to be the princess, to be pampered and spoiled, to be the kitty cat, to be affectionate and gentle with, to be a little girl, to be childish and fearless, to be proud of, to be worth the time and trouble. I am not that fucking one-dimensional that I can’t be everything I want to be. But I can’t be, I don’t want to be all that if there is no one to let me. Because I can’t afford to be less strong or less independent when I’m all by myself. Because I’m terrified that I would break, eventually, after being taken for granted for so long, and no one would be there to fix me except for myself. Or I am just, or have always been a little broken.

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