Submission @ MindSay 
love
Sadomasochism is a defined mental illness in any of the psychology books I've read, but it's a part of me. I'm a masochist, and I can't deny that any more than the fact that I'm submissive sexually. Now, does that mean that I'm a weak little female that lets men walk all over me? Hell no! I think my previous blog entries can deter people from thinking that. I can have a much bigger guy on the floor within seconds. I'm strong, and that is why I can submit. It takes true strength to submit to someone.
Well, my mind has been wandering. The past few weeks I've been looking up more and more info on it, and the more I learn, the more I want this. I decided to join a BDSM dating site, not looking for a partner, but looking for people into the scene, to learn more. Well let me tell you, I've gotten the most annoying messages. These guys, ordering me around, and acting like I owe them something because I happen to be submissive.
First of all..back off. I owe you nothing. You haven't earned my respect.
Two, you're NOT my Dom. My Dom has to earn my submission
Three, keep calling me "girl" and I'll internet slap you straight across your face.
This had led to several conclusions that I must be a Domme. I am not a Domme, and I know this for sure. I receive no pleasure from being sadistic. I just don't deal with people's crap, and my lifestyle dominant side comes out when people mess with me.
But so far it's been interesting. I'm gaining so much knowledge about what I want, and how I can eventually have it.
Other than that, today was a great day. I went to see The Dark Knight with some of my friends. . . but all day I kept thinking about Justin, which made me extremely depressed. Then I was even more depressed because I saw a guy that happened to look just like Dave.
Dave...
Ha. What a loser.
I actually realize that now. He had to use me, some 16 year old kid, to feel Dominant and good about himself. How pathetically dumb of him. But at least some good came out of our relationship. I learned more about my sexuality. It's getting easier to mentally slap myself when I feel my emotions getting out of hand.
Sometimes I need a good slap.
Fuck yeah! My friends and I are doing a Sex Pistols cover of Sub-mission. It's today, Wednesday, at 3:30.
Wish us luck. I hope we go through and win that 100 dollars.... It's a school thing.
Call me Childish but I don't give a Rats ass! Mindsay staffers are cliquie and only post news articles from those they either like or read their blogs!
Here is my proof that I submitted the current lead story news article on the Lakota Nation LAST WEEK!
http://niassa.mindsay.com/?date=2007-12-22
I even submitted it to the News staffers.
The reason I know they didn't post it is because they posted stupid ass drival the following days but posted the same News Article that I submitted last week today from some other poster!
Can you say that I won't be submitting any more worth while news stories to Mindsay News.
And if this upsets anyone too dayum bad! I call them as I see them and I am NOT the only person that feels this way about the Mindsay News submission!
Another thing I noticed and suggested and it looks like at least the Mindsay staffers in charge of Crazy 40 took mine and other folk's advice in putting up NEW people on Crazy 40!
The same people seem to get Crazy 40 and have even commented on the fact they have had Crazy 40 MANY times and there are MANY MANY people out in Mindsay community that have been with Mindsay for a year or more and have NEVER gotten Crazy 40! Makes you wonder doesn't it!
Just shows ya that no matter how open minded people are Mindsay and treat people decently you still have politics even among the Mindsay Staffers!
She felt his fingertips on her shoulder and shiver went through her as he stroked her. His fingertips stopped and caressed her breasts. It was a tender touch, sensuous and she relaxed a bit.
He had not spoken to her and she remained quiet trying to anticipate her responses. But how could you anticipate something you didn’t know? A second before she felt anxious, anticipating his first touch and now she was feeling confused. What was expected of her, what was it he desired? He cupped her breasts, massaged her nipples and she realized that she was restrained physically and visually in order to heighten the sensations she could feel. His hands were large to hold her full breasts, fingertips were a bit coarse, manicured, the palm of his hand was warm and the sensation went straight to her nipples.
She had been breathing in short rapid breaths, he began gently sucking on her nipples and she took a deep breath and let it out in a low moan. He responded by kissing her nipples, then her mouth. She felt his lips on hers and she pressed to it. He pulled away and she strained against her restraints to hold his touch. She felt isolated in that split second with no connection to him and the thought stabbed through her. The warmth of his hand on her breasts was gone, the reassuring tenderness of a soft kiss was gone and all she could feel against her skin was the cool room air and the bindings.
Seconds passed and room seemed cooler than it was before he touched her, it seemed bigger and the feeling of emptiness was overwhelming. She lowered her head and sighed, feeling her weight against the restraints. Another second passed and she felt the warmth of palm of his hand return to her breast, and his warm breath as he kissed her cheek. He had been right next to her, something her rational mind knew, but her senses couldn’t. This time she didn’t move her head and he rewarded her by lightly pinching her nipple and sucking on the other.
The sensation of him touching her skin, filled her and pushed back the cool air and she warmed herself as he pinched and sucked her nipples and fondled her breasts. Her breathing slowed, she lowered her head again and pushed her breasts forward, offering him more. The low moan from him was like praise and she caught her breath, and pulled again against her restraints to feed him more and whimpered at the sweet torture. He kissed her mouth again and she parted her lips, careful not to press. She was rewarded with a longer kiss and feeling his lips massage hers. She breathed her kiss into him and wanted to feel him hold her in his arms, relaxing against her restraint, turning her head hoping he would extend this moment.
He ended the kiss and then gave her another short one, for learning the rules of the new game so quickly she thought. She could not anticipate what response would be required or appropriate. She could not use all of her senses, only the ones he allowed her to use. She was praised by knowing his pleasure and his response, she was rewarded with pleasure for pleasing him.
The kiss had ended a moment before, she thought through the new rules, she thought of the warmth that radiated through her, the emptiness, the isolation of his absence his touch, or praise. What could she do, what was required now? What was he waiting for?
She raised her head high for a moment, then slowly lowered it and relaxed against her restraints. She understood, and submitted, opened her body and more, her mind to his pleasure, and would be grateful for his acceptance, his touch, her reward and pleasure he would provide. She was awaiting warmth, pleasure, his pleasure and wanted this universe to shrink around her in his arms, under him, feeling him inside her, and she waited for him to end the ache.
“Excellent. Perfect my pet.” He whispered and her heart leapt at the praise, her senses heightened at anticipating something required of her. She didn’t wait long as he pressed his cheek against hers and she felt the sweet tingle of his fingertips on her tummy and traced the sensation as they went lower. She held her cheek against his, and opened her legs as best she could and felt herself swelling and wet.
She knew what she must do and opened herself . . .
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