State of the Brain Report
» My Inner Life
When I read a guy write of deleting hostile comments from his blog I almost feel failure.
Only almost. Some of my older sites have seen plenty of snarky responses. Seemed likely they’d follow here.
But if dismissing Elise Sutton as a theorist doesn’t annoy my readership enough to get an angry demurral nothing is likely to. That is fine: I don’t share my inner life with the goal of annoying people.
Actually deleting comments is a bit, well, cowardly. Though I think some of the guys who write about submission - not many - are spinning words without a real intent to engage on a serious level with the experience. (Or an awareness of the vast cosmic guffaw that should accompany everything we do.)
I’ve been very, very busy: striving to recover from my self-inflicted economic destruction. Some of this is reflected in this site’s frequent changes in appearance as I test out things.
And I want to half-apologize for he Stockroom ad. Not that I don’t like a pretty woman with nice tits. But woman worship isn’t about hotties with whips. (Or doesn’t have to be.)
Contrariness encouraged me to put up a link to my Amazon Wish List. I’m not expecting any presents. But just about every cyber-Domme does it.
I do feel that I may have been letting some of you down in not talking about the pleasures of submission.
At least the guys. I’m sure women as well. But the oddest thing about this site is that I probably hear more from professional dominatrices than any other group. Perhaps a very realistic species.
Imagine getting up with a headache and knowing that you have to tell X that he’s a slut and smile sinisterly as you beat the heck out of Y. What a brave front some ProDommes must have to project some days.
I hope that any of you have visited for any length of time knows how much I adore Alexandra.
What of my ‘fantasy’ life?
My first response is that I’m not thinking about D/s at all. But that isn’t quite true.
Even though I know I’m probably not cut out for lifestyle submission my mind is filled with images kneeling, bowing, wearing my collar. What we did not accomplish during her last visit weighs strongly on my mind.
There’s the same hunger to be servile, humble, obedient. It may recede to the rear of my consciousness but lives on very vibrantly there.
I still need the humility. To kiss her shoes. Have her take control.
In her ascendance I will find my fulfillment as a man.
Counting the days once again …
