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Kana -> RE: O Dom is me! (7/2/2012 10:41:52 PM)
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Bah, Humbug.
There are times the lilone is an it. (Right now, in fact. It's going into harsh slave training as we speak. Kana been slack as of late on keeping his slave greased and oiled and it shows..a failing on my part, not it's. Waves finger at himself in mirror, Bad Kana, Bad bad Dom. To paraphrase Dean Wormer, "Slack, busy and neglectful is no way to keep a slave, son")
Treating her as an it doesn't make me a lousy master. And it sure doesn't make me one who tears her down or robs her of some part of who and what she is (If anything it exemplifies it). In fact, I pretty much agree with this statement, one twue wayism odor aside
quote:
A real Master is one who inspires submission from one who is strong in her identity, personality and sense of self.
Ask her and she'll say that I inspire her, that I have helped her grow as a person and as a woman, that she's a better soul for having known me, that I'm a massive positive in her life, and that as a result of sharing lives, we've both grown emotionally as well as spiritually. Flat out-we are far better people for having connected.
That said, she serves many function in my life (Slaves-they're the Swiss Army Knife of BDSM-gotta love it. Multipurpose tools to make His life better-how can ya beat that?)
She's my lover, my best friend. She's also my confidant, my personal assistant (Slaves make the best PA's), my computer repair person, a great dining partner, a delightful companion and the person I trust most in the world.
She's always property, an absolutely owned piece of fuckmeat for me to do what I want with.
(pauses her to mention that I work within a total TPE and am only commenting on my experience)
There are times she's there for conversation. There are times where I need to hear her opinion, see myself or the world through her eyes. There are many many moments of sheer laughter and happiness, which is good, because bringing joy to each other is why we share lives.
And there are times she's there simply to be used, to be ravished and taken with no regard for how she feels about the acts I'm perpetrating.
At these points she's an it.
Nothing but a mean to an end.
Nothing but meat for me to ravish (It's real hawthawthawt to use things like hoods and heavy sensory deprivation at these times too-make it faceless, voiceless, just a rape toy set of holes to plunder and make scream)
And ya know what?
It hates being an it, as in hateshateshateshates it...but it loves being an it too...in that love/hate/passion/pain/twisted contradictions dynamic that is so inherent in BDSM.
It loves the control. It loves the stripping of self. It loves the way I just take and take and take.
Hell, it doesn't just love it. It needs it.
It needs that plundering-that deep level where I just reach into the root of the D/S and her heart and soul and just use it ruthlessly-in ways it would never have dreamed or contemplated being abused.
That's what it lives for. That's why it came to me. That's why it's involved in such a heavy 24/7 dynamic.
It's not the things that I do to it, as hideous as some of those things are. Those are just window dressing, the pretty wrapping paper around the real interaction which occurs at the locus of who and what it is as an entity.
It's the level of control involved-the being taken to a place it would never voluntarily go, the fact that I am using it/sating self at the most primitive points of being.
And it hates the level of ego removal involved in the process. It hates the leveling of self. It hates the depersonalization/dehumanization.
It battles within itself, caught on the crux of it's submission and surrender, the craving to yield and the fear of what will be demanded, and that struggle, that fight to cede and give over, that making it dance on the razor edge of it's own emotional upheaval, that gives the twisted fuck sadist in me great glee. (Points at his icon for an example)
And I cackle at it, and mock it, and take it deeper into the surrender and humiliation and the self until I've blasted it through all it's inner walls and it floats free and pure and clean, absolute.
Which makes it all worthwhile, because it knows that no matter what, no matter how far I take it, I will always lead it back home, to the safety and sanctuary of my arms.
And the joy, the great joy, is that however much it fights it, however much it denies it's need, it's craving, it's raison de etre in ultimate surrender, it's cunt, that treacherous sopping thing, gives it away every time and gives me license to do as I please.
And that's bloody awesome :-)
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