Notes on Humiliation II

Ecstatic groveling was almost the name of this weblog (thankfully I thought of a better name).

It is a state that isn’t always easy to reach. When Alexandra has me lick mud from her shoes the mix of boot adoration and being used induces feelings of degradation and ecstasy.

When she’s seemed a Goddess of Wrath the ecstasy is there though deeply buried under the feeling that I should flatten and shrink into a two dimension object that adheres to the bottom of her boots like a bit of refuse.

In each instance I feel genuinely humiliated.

As I mentioned in my prior entry I’m not easily humiliated. If when she’d crushed the egg on my neck she’d shoved my face into the mess the nastiness would’ve been mortifying.

I don’t feel much shame in daily life. Almost only when I feel as if I’ve let down a friend or been neglectful or two lazy: a light shame for not being mindful or exerting myself sufficiently.

That is healthy. In D/s I wish that I could more readily feel shamed, debased.

It hurt me a little that having the egg crushed on my neck didn’t humiliate me. I wasn’t able to please Alexandra. I wasn’t holding back, the emotional response just wasn’t in me.

Some acts are so deeply humbling that it is hard to distinguish from humiliation (and I may be guilty of one of my besetting sins: making too fine a distinction).

Being put in the posture collar and bar was a perfect example. Being locked in a position that leaves me wholly vulnerable and exposed to her will.

As I wrote earlier being spat upon, slapped are acts that leave me flushed with a shamed sense of being something to be used and abused. .

A few nights ago on all fours licking her boots the position put me in a very servile space. I can’t sort out why it felt that way since I’ve been on my hands and knees many times. I felt like a begging pet.

That testicle control and torment seems to powerfully abasing is why it is such a powerful fetish for me.

As is verbal abuse.

As much as I crave humiliation I think there is a fear, perhaps a shame of feeling ashamed that blocks me from being able to see more clearly what would knock me down and draw forth the most potent emotionally masochistic response. I suspect the night we put the humbler to use will be very . . .

Another very provisional note.

Perhaps if you share some of what you find humiliating, either to inflict or suffer you’ll help me discover more of my own triggers.