Physical.

I scratched him. I violated one of the first limits he ever gave me, and I only have a vague recollection of it. I also bit him so hard that he’s still bruised three days later. And I beat his cock too viciously.

I feel like an asshole. Granted, I only have the vaguest, orgasm-hazed memory of digging my fingers into his back while he pounded me into sweet oblivion with a dildo. But I know better than to break his skin. And I knew how much the other stuff would hurt and that he wouldn’t like it.  But the scratching - that makes me a bad dom.  That makes me less trustworthy.  And that breaks my heart, because violating his trust and hurting him that way is the last thing I ever wanted to do.  And everything else is pointless if he doesn’t feel completely safe giving himself to me. 

…But I have a confession to make:  in my heart of hearts, I like that I scratched him. I don’t like that I did something I had promised I wouldn’t. That part, I hate. But there’s a possessive, primal something in me that loves the idea of clawing, ripping, making a boy bleed. It’s a form of penetration, I think. And the evil, rape-fantasy-having part of me liked the nonconsensuality, the power, his helplessness, the violation inherent in doing something he specifically said not to…

And the biting. And seeing the toothmarks on him. That - that was hot. That was exciting. Satisfying and frustrating at the same time, sensual and sexual and animalistic and physical. The whole encounter was more physical for me than anything I’ve done in a very long time. Physical in the sense of really being engaged, physically present, touching him with more than just my hands, getting closer than I’ve allowed myself to before. And it felt good. It felt so good, and fulfilling. Not to mention the fucking. Which is what I was talking about in the other post, being just what I wanted. But I’ll have to leave the details for later, if at all, as it’s far past time to turn off the computer for the night..

 

I am undeniably a sadist.

What a thrill it is to really hurt someone, and how delicious when he’s so happy to take the pain for my pleasure.

It’s a little glimpse of freedom, in a way. Freedom from the constraints of civilization, perhaps.

There is a beast in me. The deepest heart of my being is an animal with claws.

 

old diary: "a brief and sparkling time"

more old diary:

Monday, October 20, 2003 & 18:23 PM

Aaah, so much to write about and not the words or time to do it, as usual. Weekend was.. good. Spent most of it with the girl from my last entry.. I’ll call her Lex. Went to a Halloween party Saturday night, and I looked fucking fabulous, if I do say so myself. Though I wasn’t terribly social. Mostly I just kind of observed the other people at the party and watched Lex socialize. She’s quite talkative. Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. We were going to do a bit of needle play, but it didn’t happen. Shame. Not the right time yet I guess.

I’ve been thinking, and have come to the conclusion that (at the moment at least :P) I’m more of a dom than a sub. I do have very strong submissive feelings sometimes, but I only feel that way with very particular people, or if I’m really tired or depressed and want to feel safe and loved. Though maybe I’m kidding myself because I just don’t want to be submissive. Maybe the fact that I don’t want to means that I’m really not.. Heh. I think my submissiveness is just more.. focused? particular? than my dominant side.

The beast in me is hungry. Famished and snarling for fresh and bloody meat to tear into and consume. Lex and I have been talking a lot and making plans for playing with boys, and oh has that ever whet my appetite for domination. Hopefully we’ll have a boy for Halloween. Dress him up, tease him, torture him a little. Put him in his place and have him serve us, make sure he’s properly grateful. Should be a hell of a lot of fun. The current prospect for that position seems really cute, smart, subservient, interested in crossdressing, all that good stuff. And he’s a virgin. *rubs hands together gleefully* Almost too good to be true.

I’m keeping my guard up about this whole situation with Lex though. Something’s telling me I need to be very cautious. Or maybe I’m just paranoid and worry too much. How does one differentiate between instinct and fear?

*sighs*

[...so restless and impatient and ravenous. It's almost time, and the beast knows, it smells it, tastes it on the air. I feel it clawing at my insides, roaring to be let free, if only for a brief and sparkling time. ]

 

old diary: "making my mark"

another diary-x entry:

Monday, May 17, 2004

His face looks so angelic when he’s.. at my mercy. He was here last night, stretched out in my bed.. Leather cuffs linking his wrists above his head, my collar around his neck. I told him I loved the way he looked like that.. “You look like you’re mine.” In a small, little-boy voice, just above a whisper he replied, “I am.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The toy came over last night. I didn’t let him come for the first time in a long time.

I feel good about that. He was originally supposed to help me move furniture around, but when the time came, I just didn’t feel up to it. I wasn’t intending to do anything hot n’ heavy, but we of course started making out on the couch.. He was rather close to coming I believe, and in that adorable little-boy voice that gives me the warm-fuzzies he said, “Will you tie me up?” (This is supposition of course, since he never really talks to me, but) He wants that so bad. I think he really wants to be helpless, truly at my mercy. I think he wants to really be able to let go, to really be controlled and dominated..

He wants the intensity that I so often hold back.

Near the end of our time together last night, I pushed him over and bit the back of his shoulder (that fleshy part where the neck, shoulder, and back meet.. god, I love sinking my teeth into that part of a boy.). I was a little rough, and I bit him pretty hard. Mmm.. {I have to admit, thinking about that right now is more than a little arousing.} After I took off the cuffs and collar and he was pouting because he didn’t get to come or stay longer, he said, “I really liked when you pushed me and bit my back. Do it again?” Hooray, feedback! He said once before that he could feel that I was holding back, and he wanted me to be able to let go and really do what I want..

I like biting him, and boys in general, because it satisfies this very deep, almost feral part of me. It’s the same kind of feeling with leaving bruises or scratches.. marking him, in all senses of the word. It’s claiming and overpowering and devouring and owning.. It’s physical and primal and real on a deeper level than most people live in. That’s the beast in me, and she’s only had a little taste.

I’m getting rambly and somewhat obtuse here.. This is something that I want to ponder and need to put into words, to record. In leather&lace She talked about “the pull of the dark.” Thinking about that entry of hers and also slaveheart.. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.. It is nice though to read about others’ experiences of this sort of feeling. (Oh lord, if only I could have a soundproof room with adequate equipment, and a few hours with the toy.. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? :P)

 

old diary: "Annhilation Fantasy"

an entry from my old diary:

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

This was posted on the forums at bondage.com (emphases mine):

lately, I have this violent, roaring fantasy, I call it my Annihilation Fantasy.

Its like this,

This time, I don’t want to submit. I want to fight back, I want to be fought, overpowered, and forced. I want to be fucking held down, beaten into it, taken, totally dominated. Beaten, chocked, fucked, sweaty screaming, held down, bruised and bloody, I want to say “no” (but mean “fuck yes!”) and I want to hear “too fucking bad” right back! Make me! Fucking make me!

There is just something so hot about being forced. Having your clothes ripped off, being held down, and trying honestly your hardest to resist. It becomes a game, “can I push him off?” “could I get away?” the fear becomes real, but just enough to make it exciting, because you know he would never REALLY hurt you… Maybe tied down, eventually, to free his hands for other things…

I want to be destroyed. Do you understand? Beat me till I cant move, fuck me till I bleed, take me and own me and do what you want with me, gag me, choke me, tell me I’m your slut, your fuck toy, make me feel it! When I moan no, I want to hear “Shut the fuck up”

Just take me and everything you want to do to me, want from me, want to see me become, and just fucking MAKE me.

That hidden, feral part of me knows exactly what she’s talking about.. only I want to be on the other side of it. I… can’t really find the words for it right now…

I want to be aggressive, violent… I want to see their eyes widen, hear “No!” and smile when I ignore it. I want to be pitiless and cruel and harsh. To fight and struggle and ultimately overpower someone and make them feel completely helpless and taken. Completely, soully, mine.