This started life as a post for the theme of chemistry on Wicked Wednesday but I found I was having to force fit what I wanted to write into the theme and just sort of stopped. I decided to finish it off anyway, unconstrained by the chemistry idea.
We all have a different mix of kinks and they’re present in different proportions: some are more masochistic, others more submissive; some fetishize body parts or activities or items of clothing, others find no joy in these things. For each of us, the perfect session therefore has different ingredients, mixed in different proportions, not unlike a favourite cake recipe. I find that, over time, my personal session recipe has evolved, new ingredients have been introduced, while old favourites seem less important.
Here’s my current recipe for a great submissive/masochistic session with the beautiful Mistress Elita.
THE BIG THREE INGREDIENTS
The drug that won’t let go. To hate it but to need it; to fear it but to crave it; to dread it but still to seek it out. This bastard thing has been part of my life for ever; my dearest, most trusted friend and my worst, most dangerous enemy. I wish I could let it go, but I want it too much. This is the foundation of my session, the flour and eggs that form the base of the cake before the other ingredients are added.
You may not always see pleasure when you read about my sessions, but it’s there. It might be obvious: the sensual pleasure of her hand on my cock, or the visual pleasure of her ethereal beauty. It might be less obvious: the feel of my body against the soft leather of the bench or the touch of her skin against mine as she sits on my chest. I find pleasure; deep, satisfying pleasure, in all these things.
I may have overdone the “I’m not much of a submissive” theme in past posts. I’m just a particular kind of submissive. I want to give myself to her, become, for an hour or two, her creature. More than that, I want to please her; if she praises me, it will be with me for days. It may not be the same submission as other MenWhoSeeDommes seek, but my inner child wants to be under the control of her inner parent, do its bidding, be recognized by it and, yes, submit to it.
THE ALSO QUITE BIG, BUT NOT AS BIG AS THE BIG THREE, INGREDIENTS (ahem, I know what I mean)
Taking the final steps to the dungeon door, pulse racing, sick feeling in my stomach; my whole body consumed by the ‘fight or flight’ response to the imminent threat. This is what I seek. As I said once before, perhaps fear is the real kink and the pain just keeps the fear real. It doesn’t have to be there to make a good session, but I love what it does to me when it is.
I might be desperate for her to touch me, or just as desperate to touch her; consumed by the need to rub my hands over her taut, silky skin. In the middle of a session I want to be her lover, not her creature; I want to have her, take her, be her dominant stud, not her submissive plaything. And yet to deny myself that, to pull with all my strength against chains that exist only in my mind, chains forged only from the rules of the game we play; there is strength in that too. There’s also reward, in the shape of the trust that strength allows her to show me. I broke those rules recently, let my hand loose from the imaginary restraints and rubbed it along her thigh. She didn’t make a fuss, just calmly tied my hands to the bed and carried on where she had left off, but I was annoyed by my weakness. Lust is such a powerful beast that to tame it and control it can feel strong and affirming.
I want some aspect of the session to leave me feeling I achieved something. It might be the way I accepted her whip, the way I demonstrated my trust as she tightened her hands on my throat, or simply that I managed to orgasm after having been caned. I want to walk a little taller when I leave her lair and all these things, and many others, allow me to do that.
THE LAST INGREDIENT THAT’S ACTUALLY BIGGER THAN THE BIG THREE AND THE ALSO QUITE BIG THREE
So now we’ve made the cake, we should add the icing. Connection is what turns my session from a mixture of ingredients baked in a dungeon for 60 minutes into something exotic and beautiful, something worthy of a kinky bakery shop window. It might be the feeling that she’s looking deep into my soul before she hurts me; it might be the spark of arousal in her eyes as she pushes me to the edge; it might be something as simple as the strength of her hug when I’ve taken all she wants to give. Connection is what I most crave because connection is what transforms this from “one person hurting another” and makes it sex. Connection is what allows her kinks and mine to entwine their limbs, shed their inhibitions and, if only for an hour or two, lose themselves in each other.
And that’s why I keep going back: Yes, for the cake, but mostly for the icing.