Now commences the gushing:
Since finding his blog, I've been pulled into his dark world full of hardcore sex (sometimes with knives), a palpable sense of sexual tension of the kind that I am so familiar with, girls who give too much, and a seemingly tortured yet cultured spirit. I've had him on my blogroll since about five minutes after I found his blog. I was hooked.
Something I can only take in small doses is writing full of sensitivity and love that brims over like that in the movies (and some soft-core pornos). A good erotic romp on the page can be intense and romantic, there's a time for everything.
Come on, we all love love, but mostly I like my sex as sex and then, preferably dark.
After reading pretty much everything he's ever posted he reminds me of the first Master I ever had, Mika, and it brings heat to a very sensual and scraped-out hollow in my chest. Mika was harsh and dark and deep and fueled by something I couldn't understand.
With us, there was no such thing as a "safe word", he didn't care what you thought you could handle because he had this soul-deep connection with the fibers of pain going through my body. I said "No", he didn't hear it. I said, "Stop", he didn't care. I said "I can't take it.", he taped my mouth up...and I was always glad he had.
I know that bad, bad men are no good for me, but sometimes I can't help it.
Daemon is one of those men who I imagine would ravage you completely, leaving you an utter shell; left wet, sweaty, and quite severely bruised. The only fitting soundtrack a beating heart, breathing and moans (of pleasure? Pain?).
I can almost feel those stripes of pink marking my flesh after a good throttling, the heat seeming to radiate out of their confines. I can nearly feel the tingle of bruises rising up around my tender wrists, the pink that will fade to purple, then away as if nothing happened. How I could savor those marks, the marks of the honor of having given yourself over to another even if just for a little while
...sometimes being bound and confined can be a joy, not a punishment.
My first response to something dark and twisted I find sensual is that I bite the inside of my bottom lip until I can't feel it anymore, the first time I read one of his pieces involving him holding a knife to the skin of a nymphette, this happened. I bit myself so hard, I brought a bit of blood. Something knotted and then unfurled in me and I was enraptured.
I think that the mind of a Sadist or Dominant is something so far from my own Submissive consciousness that when I find a mind of one of these (and what is a blog but a cross-section of our minds spilled out onto the virtual shore of our creativity?) that relays themselves through written word, I find myself so fascinated and taken in by it. The mind lingers on what it will and creates a world of that mood, those thoughts that can't be turned back.
I am but a slave to my own willful mind, my own willful body (we're still working on controlling this one in the real world) when it comes to things that turn me on, twist my mind, and slink up and down my skin of their of volition.
I confess to having a secret, faceless lover that comes to me in fantasies when I choose to be alone with my own body late at night and its men like Daemon that he's modeled after.
Next Blog Crush: My lovely friend Jefferson.
*Image used with permission of the author.