How this all started

I think Master and I might be Fetlife's greatest success. That is, of course, impossible to know... nevertheless, there sure were a lot of coincidental events that brought us together.

I believe in fate. Call it a leftover from my religious upbringing. Call it whatever you will. It helps me to bring sense to the world in which I live.

I joined Fetlife on a whim. Several people had told me that it would be a good way to get plugged into the community... but I had never done it. One evening, after a couple of beers, I did it. I signed up. I didn't know anyone. I didn't really know anything about the site. I just wanted to check it out.

I put up one picture of myself, a bit coy and wearing a crown (I would share, but I don't want to put my face on my blog.). I wrote a tiny blurb about myself. The hook was, "If you choose to know me, be forewarned, I am a bit much to handle... not for the faint of heart."

After that, I set off to find someone to talk to; ideally, local, my age, and a dominant... but I was open to other things. I looked through the first two pages of results in my area.
Nope. Nope. Unattractive. Sounds creepy. Nope.

I moved on to the third page. 28M Dom. Ok, that sounds promising. I opened his profile. Not only was he extremely good looking, but his About Me section was full of joy, honesty, and discussion of doing things for the sole purpose of making other people happy. Not only that, but his fantasies went as dark as mine. Darker even. Sounded like fun. Sold. So, I sent him a message.

C: Tell me about you?

I was feeling especially nonchalant after my two beers. I had no expectations. Then, he responded! We traded a few basic pleasantries.

M: Just curious what you'd like to know about me, Catlytt :-) hope you're having a great night so far! :-)

C: I'm a sub... but pretty shy about it. I'm kind of looking into the lifestyle/looking for a relationship.

M: Well, munches are decent to go to. Also, I'd be interested in meeting with you, if you think you'd enjoy hanging out with me :-) Tell me about your submissive desires, fantasies, things that make you satisfied or happy. If you're comfortable sharing that. Or non-kink things, too! Tell me about you being a bit much to handle--I'm curious! :-)

Oh my god, he took the bait.

C: I would be totally cool with hanging out sometime. I have yet to really go to anything... I'm a bit shy. I want to know whatever you would like to share. I'm curious by nature. :-) Pray tell whatever you think I should know. I've never had a real sub/dom relationship. It's something that I have wanted for as long as I can remember... but a good dom is hard to find. I'm a fairly aggressive and dominant personality outside of the bedroom. I love feeling like I am serving a master as they would like. I like a sensitive and intuitive master who is not unnecessarily brutal. I like pain, but I have my limits. For me, the sub/dom lifestyle is very emotional... the give and take is fairly sacred. But, I may or not provoke a master... :-P

M: Not only a good Dom, but the right one for you. I've been having the same situation with subs haha, although they aren't so much bad or awful people as they just aren't the right fit. You've wanted this for a long time--that must be frustrating as heck, but here's the good news--good Doms are out there, for sure. Your time will definitely come :-) Ok! I look forward to talking with you! I have my own experiences and take on things, both of which I can tell you, but I'm by no means an expert--no one is. Each relationship is unique :-) Hahaha, a little bratty, perhaps :-P. Very very fun! D/s relationships can be very incredibly intimate, and they don't even require sex! Although of course they can as a possibility. But yes, it's a very fulfilling experience for many people.

C: Of course! I was raised in a very closed-minded town... But I have had pretty dark fantasies for a long time, long before I understood them. I'm totally game for hanging out sometime if you would like. I'm off all this week.Yes, It's the intimacy I am longing for. Though, sex is always welcome. I'm a bit of a nympho.I don't know if I would call it bratty... I'm certainly not spoiled. But, I do have a serious mind of my own.

M: Oh! Vacation????? And this week, as in until Monday?

C: I start back on tuesday night.

M: Well then. Intimacy, sex. Nympho, eh? :-P. Strong words from the shy little sub ;-P. Only kidding. But you do seem intriguing :-) smart, sexy, and kinky? Not the worst combination haha.Serious mind indeed :-)

C: Well, here is my number. Text if you're interested.

Sorry guys, I must edit out a few things. I can't have my number floating around on the internet.

Then, he texted me. I could hardly believe it! We arranged to meet Saturday. We kept texting, sharing more information. He asked for permission to specify how I should dress for our meeting, and he sent me an ominous picture of a binder clip with a caption that said it was for me. I allowed him to dom me a little, but I made it very clear that I was not allowing much more until I trusted him. Along those lines, I also set a hard limit on gags... until the requisite trust was established.

On Friday afternoon, he asked if I was available that night to meet. So much for Saturday. I said that I was free. He told me to bring overnight things, but that he would reserve judgement about whether or not we would play until we met. This might have been concerning with someone else, but I had a pretty good feeling for this guy. He really didn't seem creepy. He seemed like an awesome person to know. So, I let him have the reins.

He told me to wear a buttoned down shirt, with one more button open than I normally would, and the shortest skirt in my arsenal. I had a moment of stress while I tried to put together an outfit. (Confession: I'm pretty vain.) I finally decided on a crisp white shirt, a grey miniskirt, and high heeled boots. I felt exposed. (This was much more revealing than I normally dress and more revealing than my mother would ever have tolerated.)

I talked with my safe-call. I told her where I was going, when I was going, and told her that I would report in at intervals. If I didn't respond to her within a designated time, she would call the police. Personal safety, check. I was so nervous that I could barely walk. I was, literally, shaking in my boots. So, I went to the bar an hour early. I figured that if we had to meet on neutral territory that I could at least get the lay of the land first.

I got a beer. Chugged it. Still nervous. I got a second beer. I was halfway through putting it away when he walked in.

He didn't see me at first. He looked all around. But then, he spotted me. He strode purposefully across the room and sat beside me. There was some nervous laughter, on my part, though I tried to play it off.

He took a good long look at me, like a person who had been in a desert for weeks and has just spotted water. His eyes hugged my curves like a second skin. "Good girl," he whispered in my ear, "Very good girl."

It was noisy in the bar. We shouted at each other for a couple of minutes when he leaned in again, "You're coming home with me." I had prepared myself for this. I brought my overnight bag. I was ready. "Yes Sir," I said with a flutter of concern/uncertainty in my belly. I wanted to trust him. Oh, how it turned me on.

Honestly, I've never gone home with a stranger before. They always come home with me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm a huntress.

And that's what happened. I didn't eat. I couldn't. In my nervous state, I forgot all my things in my car. But, he took me home with him.

His place wasn't far from the bar. It only took us a couple of minutes to get there. It was a quiet neighborhood. He lead me up a walk, around behind a house, and downstairs into the basement. In his bedroom, there was a mattress on the floor, which did, at least, appear to have clean sheets. It was a fairly spartan living space, not much different than I had expected.

We climbed onto the mattress. His lips met mine. His fingers tangled into my hair, and I let go. I trusted. Blindly. He took control.

Our clothes came off in a very matter-of-fact way. There was no passionate ripping. It happened as if it were totally expected, part of the arrangement. I was frightened and so aroused. I continued to choose to trust.

He got up from the bed. I stifled a gasp as I watched the muscles ripple in his thigh, watched him move around the room. I was mesmerised.

As it turned out, he was serious about the binder clips. They pinched hard (really, fucking hard!) on my nipples, sending electric shocks straight down my spine. I felt my pussy throb as if startled from sleep. His fingers slid over my body and took their place in my dripping cunt. I had warned him previously that it was difficult to make me cum. He made me look like a liar.

I was completely at his mercy. There was not a single part of me that wanted to stop him. Honestly, I was asking myself if I would fuck on the first date. Yes, I decided, I would. I'm so ready. Take me. This lack of control is completely intoxicating.

He didn't try. I must admit I was befuddled. There hadn't been many men in my life who hadn't tried to get in my pants right away. It was curious, but I let it go.

I was completely spent. He didn't get awkward. He didn't kick me out. He wrapped his arms around me, and went to sleep. Normally, I need sleeping pills to sleep, but not that night. Curled up in his arms, cradled in the warmth of his body, I slept, not a care in the world.

We spent the next two days together. All day Saturday and Sunday morning. We had an amazing time. We held hands. Kissed in public. Laughed and smiled until our faces began to cramp. Then, I went home.

I had been home for a few hours when I got a text message. He was very polite, if a little withdrawn. He explained that he had a lot going on in his life right now with school, apartment hunting, and surgical planning. He basically told me that he didn't have time for me. I wanted something serious, and he was too busy.

I cried. It may seem silly, but I was so disappointed. The weekend had been like a dream come true for me. I had more fun than I had had in months. I felt cared for, special, cherished. And suddenly, it was over. I was practically dejected. I talked with one of my best friends. She comforted me. I let it go. He continued to talk back and forth, a little, the rest of Sunday and Monday.

Monday, late afternoon, I got a text.

M: May I come over and see you after work?

My pulse quickened. My cheeks flushed. I cracked the tiniest of grins as I replied, "Yes Sir."

Abroad, but not unchained

Well, I am in Rome. One of my best childhood friends and I are spending three weeks traveling through Italy. It’s a celebration of finishing graduate school and getting my first big girl job. We have been best friends for years and years, but being in this kind of close proximity brings to light all kinds of things that we previously hadn’t talked about. I told her a few months ago that I was into BDSM. We didn’t talk too much about it at the time, but now that I belong to Master, it is finally needing to be discussed.

My collar has become a part of me now, just as Master has become a part of my life. They are both exquisitely permanent. The difficulty that remains is helping people to understand. It didn’t take long before Naomi asked me about my collar.

“Does that actually lock? It looks like it locks.” Oh absolutely, it locks.

So, I am on a journey through Italy in 24/7 submission, without my wonderful Master. It’s been difficult being away from him, and it has only been just a few days. I miss his love, the intimacy of being subservient, my place at his feet, his intensity and warmth. I have his commands from afar… relatively minimal contact and the weight of his collar around my neck to give me peace. But it is nothing like the real thing.

I have removed my bra and panties. Master requested that whenever I am where I am staying that I lose the undergarments. So, my nipples are peaked beneath my thin tee, and I can feel my clit piercing rub on the inside of my jeans. It’s a gentle reminder of who owns my body. His ownership makes me feel so secure.  While I am gone, Master is sending me commands to remind me of my subservience and remind me of his presence in my life. I love each and every one. I cannot imagine being anything other than obedient. He means so very much to me. I want desperately to please him always.

The other day, Naomi expressed some curiosity about the Dom/sub relationship: how it works, what it is like for me, how can someone be a sadist and not a horrible person...

That was one large glass of limoncello. 

I started by explaining that there are different types of submissives, that sub is a generic term, but that it generally indicates a certain set of behaviors. I explained to her that I actually consider myself a slave and that means that I have even less say about what Master does with me (by choice, of course). I explained to her that the Dom/sub relationship is based on trust, and that both partners enjoy the power exchange. We discussed how everything is agreed upon by both partners ahead of time, especially with new partners. 

I told her that I was raised as a submissive... with two controlling parents, having my life be out of my control and in the hands of someone that I trust is very comforting. We discussed how one comes to build that trust with another person. Master and I were able to build our trust very quickly. Originally, it was "You have never given me a reason not to trust you." That transitioned into, "You have given me so many reasons to trust you." In my case, I was blessed beyond belief. Master and I are from completely different backgrounds, but we share so much in the way that our minds work. He has no trouble reading my needs and wants. He gives me everything that I need to be ok. (Don't, my dear readers, believe that he is soft on me. He isn't.) 

I explained to her that, as far as I understand it, that the edification that Master gets from causing me pain and degrading me is more about power and control than causing pain. Master is one of the kindest people I know. His sadism is separate from the rest of his personality... It's a bit of an outlier, really. I tried to explain it in terms of something that she already understood. 

Rape is a crime of power not of passion. It's kind of like that... except being expressed in a healthy way with two consenting adults. 

I think that made sense to her... it's so hard to explain these things to people who have no idea about the lifestyle and the patterns of thought that go with it. It feels like trying to explain the color green to a person who was born blind. 

Like I said, we have three weeks together. I'm sure that we will be discussing this more. I'll be sure to bring you all the play-by-play while I attempt to educate my very religious, conservative friend about my kink. 

A weekend away

Right after my piercing, Master and I got in the car and drove to Portland. I am, or have been until recently, the cuddliest person that I have ever known. With Master, I have finally met my match. I adjusted my position carefully in the seat of the car to avoid pain from my piercing. I was feeling sensitive emotionally, likely secondary to the pain I had just experienced, so I kept physical contact with Master the entire drive (somewhere between two and three hours).  

We stopped a little bit outside of Portland. We had been invited to dinner with Master’s parents at the home of a family friend. As I believe I have mentioned before, I grew up in a very conservative part of the United States… East Texas to be specific. I now live in the Pacific Northwest. It would be difficult to find a place more ideologically different than where I came from. This suits me well, but most of my family and friends are still extremely conservative. It doesn’t matter how much I change, that place will always be a part of me.

Generally, I try to avoid political conversations… but talk turned to politics. It wasn’t that I so much disagreed with the political views of my hosts, I was offended by the way they talked about people who held different views. Regardless of what I think, “those people” are my friends and family… and until a few years ago, me. That, in combination with the pain in my clitoris and my inability to get comfortable exhausted me quickly, physically and emotionally. Master was very attentive, as always, giving me reasons to get up and move around or go outside so that I could get some reprieve. I don’t wish to be ungrateful, but we couldn’t have left soon enough.  I let out a sigh of relief when we drove the rest of the way to Portland.

Master’s parents, on the other hand, are some of the more delightful people that I’ve met. This last visit was the third time I had met them and the first time that I had worn a collar in front of them. Contrary to what one might think, I feel free when I wear my collar. It’s like finally not hiding a part of myself. I’m out and I’m proud… for those who know where to look. I feel like a bird out of my cage. I’m getting carried away– I immediately felt like part of the family. There were no strings, no judgment. They seem like refreshingly normal, well-balanced people.

Master was so excited to show me around his hometown. This was our first visit when we actually had time to enjoy the city. He took me to a bustling district in Southwest Portland. We parked the car and ran a quick errand. We set out on foot to explore. I wore a skirt in hopes of keeping pressure of my piercing. Unfortunately, I chose a skirt that limited the length of my stride. Suddenly, I found myself struggling to keep up with Master who walks quickly anyway. All those short little steps. With each stride, I felt my piercing rub. It was a little painful, but I began to notice the weight of the jewelry and become increasingly aware of my arousal. I wasn’t wearing underwear. I had discovered that even the friction from my thong was uncomfortable earlier. It was warm out.

Our first stop was Master’s favorite kink shop. I was surprised by the selection and could have easily dawdled there for quite a while. We moved on. We stopped for lunch and a drink at a bar somewhere. The longer we were out, the sweatier and more aroused I got. It wasn’t long before I was completely slick with sweat and my own juices. Most of the time we spent that afternoon is hazy for me. Master and I were completely lost in each other.

It wouldn’t matter to me if we spent the weekend on the sofa, at a hospital, or on the surface of the moon… as long as we are together, nothing is wrong in the world. That’s love for you.

The drive back was much like the drive to Portland… with the exception of a little fellatio along the way.  ;-)

Clit piercing

As Master is always quick to remind me, there is much to discuss. I’m sorry that there haven’t been many play stories lately. Between work and family drama, I have been stressed to the max. He has been giving me a bit of a break from the pain.

Master is into body modification. I will do anything to please him. I have often played with the idea of a clitoral piercing… Since I was in middle school probably, but for one reason or another, I never did it. It was too sexual, too out there, for the way I was raised. I still thought about it though. I loved the idea of having a symbol of my rather rampant sexuality (though it was very repressed at the time) hidden right beneath my clothes.

I mentioned it off-hand, like, “I used to want to get the tips of my hair dyed pink when I was in high school.” But, the immediate response was, “We will have to do that then.” I met his eyes, and the devious twinkle was there.

I have come to love that twinkle. It is mischievous, dastardly, and sometimes downright evil. It can instantaneously quicken my pulse and cause my pussy to throb. It’s better than any drug.

It was inevitable then. We discussed it a little, here and there. I talked with a few people online about it. Everyone was so supportive and encouraging. The fact that Master wanted it… made the idea all the more intoxicating. We set a date. I knew that the piercing would take about 6 weeks to fully heal.  We decided that the weekend before I went out of the country for three weeks would be a good time. When I got back, it would be mostly, if not completely, healed.

I was a little nervous. I feel that was to be expected.

We went to the piercing studio around noon. I found the prospect of having the piercing much more arousing than frightening. In fact, I started to wonder if the piercer, Jake, might notice. Master came in to the room with me. I removed my clothes from the waist down and climbed up onto the table. At the piercer’s request, I opened my legs wide and let them rest. I was completely exposed. I felt completely at home. Under Master’s watchful eyes, I was measured and fit for a barbell. Master chose a light blue crystal for the top end of the piercing, for just a bit of sparkle.

I was told there would be a slight pinch as Jake adjusted the skin of my clitoral hood. It was nothing compared to the spankings I got from Master. I didn’t think anything of it. When he asked, I began taking deep breaths, in and out. In and…

Jesus! It felt like someone stabbed me in the clitoris.

And then it was over. Another pinch and the jewelry was in. Jake gently cleaned away any blood. I looked over at Master. He looked so proud. When Jake handed me the mirror to check out my new adornment, I was quite pleased. But it meant so much more to me that Master was pleased with me. I would turn myself inside out for him if I could, just for that glimmer of pride in his eye.

Super... painful

I may have neglected to mention that I'm a superhero. Just like Clark Kent, ladies and gentlemen. Mild mannered slave by day (Ha!)... Saving the world under the cover of darkness. Sorry kids, I can't tell you what I do for a living. 

Either way, it feels like forever since I've stopped by to say hello. I have so many things to tell you all!

First of all, I'm officially a collared bitch... I have been for a few weeks, but now I have the distinct pleasure of wearing a beautiful 24/7 collar. (Need one? Find it here!) It's out there, for the world to see, and they miss it. It turns me on to think that my cards are all on the table, but no one has eyes to see. 

Master whispered, "You have my heart, little one." 

"I wear your heart around my neck," I replied. 

I started this journey to find the person that I knew I was. The wonderful thing about coming to accept yourself is that suddenly, you have no one to fear. I know who I am. I have always known, and I finally love myself.

I am beautiful. I don't mean on the outside... that fades. I have come to find that the woman who wears my skin is strong, passionate, hard-headed, loving, compassionate, sexy, driven, kind, gentle, vulnerable... and in that state of being vulnerable, I have found my true strength.

Here's another first: I went to my first community event! It wasn't a big thing, but it was a whole new ball of wax to look people in the face and tell them that I am a slave. And be accepted for it. It's like being the ugly duckling and then finding a flock of swans. Not only that, but it was the debut of my collar. We thought it was fitting. 

Here is the thing about pain: 
Pain has been the single most revolutionary force in my life. Standing, panic stricken, looking down into the abyss changes your soul. Pebbles slip from beneath your toes and clatter downward... but you never hear them hit bottom. 

I would not take back a single tear that I have shed. Loss, heartache, disgust, hopelessness, worthlessness, despair... I have known these and many more. Each of them brought me here, like stepping stones out of the darkness. Out of that pain sprung a new being. My heart has been softened. Pain did not make me cruel. It made me understanding, forgiving... a kinder and gentler soul. 

So, thank you, universe. Thank you for all the pain. 

And on that note, let me tell you about something that hurt. Master and I had our first real fight. (And for those that might ask, I do have a mind of my own.) The topic doesn't really matter. It was nothing but growing pains. Truthfully, neither of us was right. But it fucking hurt... both of us. It was an ugly tangle... my sword to his throat and his to mine: mutually assured destruction. But in that moment, we stopped. We put down our weapons. 

We spoke our minds, hearts exposed... and it worked. Our love grew a little, right there, while we watched. 

When I got home from work in the morning, I crawled into bed with him, uncertain. I felt raw. In the face of his tenderness, my control fell away, and I cried. He soothed until we both began to laugh. He tucked me in and left for work. 

I woke to him walking through the bedroom door. He laid on top of me. His weight and warmth pressing me into the mattress. I don't even remember what I said. Something snarky. It was a mistake.

The next thing I knew was face down in the mattress. He was sitting on my legs. I was surprised when his hand fell, not on my ass, but on the backs of my thighs. It was as if someone had turned up the volume. The searing heat was punctuated with the sound of his hand landing hard on my thighs. I could not handle it. I was not prepared. I tried in vain to still my writhing. I screamed fiendishly into the pillow. I felt the tears riding the crest of an emotional tidal wave. The sobs caught in my throat. Bitter, hot tears ran down my face into the pillow. 

He finally stopped. The tears did not. My emotions were still chafed from the night before. I found myself almost angry, but mostly hurt. He cuddled and held me until I recovered. 

It confirmed something that I already suspected. My high pain tolerance, on which I pride myself so much, is fused with my emotional state. It's not that I feel less pain, not at all. It's that I can endure it. Pain opens all kinds of wounds. 

Dear blogoverse

So much of this is new for me. 

I'm getting to explore things that I had always thought were so wrong. While I feel amazingly comfortable with my kink and sharing with all of you... I feel like I've finally come out of my cocoon as a butterfly, I understand that most people, especially where I come from, would be astonished, offended, and disgusted. 

There is something exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying about spilling your secrets on the internet. I find myself trying to walk a very fine line, trying to share enough about myself to make this blog worth reading, at at the same time, maintain my privacy and safety. 

So far, I think I am doing well enough. However, I'm sure the longer that I write this blog, the harder it will be. When you share your mind like this, people could begin to recognise you. 

This blog was Master's idea. I'm really enjoying it so far, but I'm not exactly sure what is acceptable for me to share here... or, for that matter, what you want to read. 

They say that all you have to do is put pen to paper. That eventually, the ideas will come. 

Here I sit, with my pen to paper. Waiting.