The Blurb

Both ski socks and flip flops are pretty everyday objects (if you are the kind of exciting person who, like me, likes to go to snowy mountains and tropical beaches, not if you are a boring recluse). Most of what I write about will, I suspect, seem slightly crazy to your average 'vanilla'. But, to me, kink is so integrated into my life that I sometimes don't notice that it is a bit odd.

Ski socks and flip flops are also both totally contradictory to each other. This, in part, reflects the fact that I go by the online psuedonym 'Walking Oxymoron'. But it also explains me very well. I do not look like someone who you might imagine to be a sexual deviant. When out and about, I don't act any differently from anyone else. In fact, I like to think that I appear fairly innocent and demure.

This blog is about the other side of me - my dark side. Specifically, the emotional side of it. Behind the whips and canes and other fun things is a variety of very normal 'vanilla' feelings. They just choose to display themselves in some unconventional places...

Sunday 29 January 2012

The Mysterious Disappearance of The Brat


Approximately this time last year, I was writing a lot about my quest for submission. I wanted to be able to submit naturally to someone, without feeling that I had to be a brat. Much of this desire was based upon a play relationship that I had during my first explorations in kink back in 2009. This relationship was based largely upon protocol and rules. I have never quite been able to work out why this worked so well back then. Why was I so compliant? Why did I have to little desire to push the boundaries in the excessive way that I do now? I was, as many like to call it, the 'uber-sub'. I was well trained, obedient and proud to be that way.

Of late, I have been thinking a lot about those first few months. About how such a simple set of well enforced rules made me feel so submissive. About just how deep a place that form of submission touched. And I have been wanting to go back to my roots and try it again. The problem is, it is very difficult to find someone who is capable of consistently dishing out the regimented, strict routine that I was so lucky to find in those first months.

It was with some trepidation, therefore, that I sent an email to someone with whom I have been playing agreeing to do some protocol based play. However, when I received a reply asking me to bring some high heeled shoes suitable for wearing naked, my curiosity and anticipation won me over.

So, there I was, sat on a busy tube train, attempting as best as I could to follow instructions by masturbating unnoticed, my brain creating all sorts of ideas about what may happen when I stepped through the door to his house. What did happen was all very civilised – a glass of wine and cuddles. After 15 minutes or so, he looked at me and asked me to strip as he watched. Usually, I don’t feel uncomfortable doing this, but I did feel very slightly coy since it was so sudden and so out of context. One minute I was sitting drinking wine, the next I was naked (save for my high heels) and kneeling at his feet.

I remained in this position as he – extremely calmly but with an unquestionable air of authority – explained that he was going to teach me to submit. That everything that I did was going to be for no other reason than because He asked it. And that my enjoyment was going to be found simply through letting go, forgetting about myself and focussing solely on him. I was entitled to expressing only pain, want/desire and pleasure. All of my other thoughts and emotions were to be inconsequential. In order to help me feel this, he placed a play collar around my neck and instructed me that, whilst I was wearing it, I was to keep my eyes downcast at all times. A sudden twist of my nipples acted to demonstrate how I would be reminded of that rule should I forget.

To make his point absolutely clear, he quickly led me upstairs and strapped me over a bench. I was pleasantly taken aback by how well he had restrained me – and how helpless I therefore was to his ministrations. He didn’t go gently on me, but he did masterfully give me moments to catch my breath thus allowing me to take some quite intense pain without feeling too much pleasure from it. This was a demonstration of punishment and the power contained within it, and it very definitely worked. I didn’t have any space left in my overwhelmed brain to contemplate disobedience.

Back downstairs, he ran me through some basic positions: 3 on my knees, 3 standing, 2 squatting (including the ‘slaves kiss’, which turned out to be rather painful) and 3 lying down. Then a further three forms of movement. I was expected to commit them all, along with their names, to memory in a very short space of time. If I got something wrong, even the tiniest detail, then there would be a sudden burst of pain. One of the forms of movement proved particularly difficult for me – mainly because it made me feel ridiculous – and he therefore took great joy in making me repeat it over and over until I got it perfect.

When he was satisfied that I knew all of the positions, he said that I deserved a break. He instructed me to go and get a bottle of wine and a glass jug out of the fridge. Suddenly, I realised that this was the real test. A test of just how deeply I had fallen into the submissive mindframe. I poured him a glass of wine first, before pouring some of the contents of the jug of piss into my glass. Then he stopped me – his glass was fuller than mine. So I topped mine up. And I drank it. The whole thing. I have to admit that this may have been due to the promise that the nipple clamps would be removed once we had finished drinking, but he kept filling me up again until he had finished his wine. I think I ended up drinking three full glasses. But not once did the thought of disobeying cross my mind. I had really embraced the fact that I was doing it for him – it was not my place to think, just to do. And I really did get huge satisfaction from ‘just doing’ – I didn’t need to worry about his reactions, I could let go of my inhibitions.

I was thoroughly rewarded for my good work with a very hard beating and fucking (I have discovered that combining the two is a recipe for instant subspace). But, if I am honest, I didn’t really need the reward. I haven’t felt that submissive feeling for a very long time, and it was incredibly intense, satisfying and special. I think that it is time for me to let go of my brat and just let things happen. Just accept. Let myself get to that happy, uninhibited space without fear. With the right kind of constant, consistent mental stimulation (I think that that is the key), it can happen.

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