Service Slut

I recently made some changes on my FL profile. If you've been listening to Intellectual Kink or listened to my previous post, you may be aware that I'm ready to  delve into my interest in male dominants. The second step in this part of my life was to revise my profile. Aside from Twitter, it's really the only place where I maintain an online presence. It makes sense that I would advertise my desire for a Master. The messages I've received have not inspired much hope that I could someday find this unicorn-like Dom. "You can come over, clean my house, and then clean my cock with that dirty little mouth of yours." "How are you? I want to use you. Message me. I want you as my slave." Sigh. Dude, I'm still a human being. At least that second one asked how I was... Note that I won't be relying on FL messages for this endeavor. Can you at least take time to get to know me? Ugh. Delete. Yes, FL. Delete Forever.

Recently, I took a drive up to NorCal and figured I would record something. Get things off my chest. Consider it a huge tweet! Part One And then I stopped for gas! Part Two

I’ve long since been a fan of humiliation. There is an indescribable satisfaction that I receive from being reduced to nothingness. But the question stands: Is it truly humiliating if pleasure is derived from the act? In order to attempt to answer this question, I suppose we should start understanding what exactly it means to be humiliated. Wikipedia describes it as follows: “…the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or reduced to lowliness or submission. It is an emotion felt by a person whose social status has just decreased. It can be brought about through intimidation, physical or mental mistreatment or trickery, or by embarrassment if a person is revealed to have committed a socially or legally unacceptable act.” Mmm, sounds positively delicious, doesn’t it? Sign me up! Sorry, got distracted there for a second. I want to throw out some possibilities for why this is so enticing. Take your pick (or suggest your own in the comments!...

Mistress sent me a lovely image to stir up masturbatory bliss. The image of a girl on all four being led into a cage spoke volumes to me. It's no secret that I love humiliation. Being stripped down to the raw grittiness of my soul takes me out of this world and into another where I have the ability to put myself back together again. But this post isn't about my depression. I looked at the image and it reminded of when Mistress suggested lending me to someone. The cage symbolized the loss of choice and complete surrender. Lately, my submission has left something to be desired. This fantasy triggered a release of frustration with myself. That surrender would be seamless and my headspace wouldn't be so easily muddled. I ended up having a magnificent orgasm. It left me with a sense that I'm not completely lost.

I've always been a but envious of those who can pull off the wham bam thank me ma'am orgasms. There always seems to be a formula that needs to occur in order for me to have an orgasm. Step One: Erotica or tumblr Step Two: Wait until that one word or image Step Three: Go! But I don't have the luxury of step one. I like routine and ritual, so this has been an adjustment for me. The month is almost over and I'm still getting used to it.

For every girl (or dude), there is an orgasm that turns out to be a game changer. Revelatory really. The kind that makes you wonder why all your orgasms can't be that fucking awesome. What formula must I replicate in order to achieve that toe-curling glory? I suppose there can't really be a formula. It makes me wish I knew my body better. Maybe if my clit and I had a more intimate relationship, I would know how to have amazing orgasms each time. Every body is different but sometimes I'm left wishing for the secret to my own body. In the meanwhile, I'll be continuing to recapture that elusive orgasm.

I've never really been a fan of masturbating in the morning. Something about everyone being awake or the sunlight really makes me feel vulnerable in a way that is foreign to me. My irrational fear is that someone will walk in on me. This morning, I awoke feeling ballsy. Well, at least more than usual. At first, I kept my mouth covered to stifle the sounds I was making. I feel free when I moan without holding back. I didn't realize until afterwards that I was depriving myself of that juicy freedom. Just as before, my body took over and I started writhing. My hand left my mouth and found it's way to a fist full of hair. I couldn't hold back anymore. My mind let go of my fears and shame. I was flooded with the ideation of giving my humanity to Mistress. These orgasms that I'm having...they don't belong to me. So I suppose this could be the first step.