December 6th, 2013
In the last few years I would say the number one interest in the kink/bdsm/fetish world is rope. Of course I have absolutely no statistics about this assumption and I could and am willing to accept that I am wrong. My perspective is that rope seems to be a near constant denominator with every person I meet in this freaky slightly off kilter universe. Everyone except myself.
I have tried rope. I have run it through my fingers, felt it on my flesh. I have held it, treated it, massaged it. I have learned how to tie it, how to store it. I learned the different types, watched numerous videos, even attended rope nights and what I found fascinating was my lack of interest. I received no arousal from it, felt no rush of freedom and yet I was surrounded by so many who nearly climaxed just from the texture brushing across their palms.
I sincerely tried to like rope. To desire it. I read books, listened to others, joined forums. I watched. I tried to participate and yet nothing. I recall wondering why I did not like it the way, well every single other person did. There appears to be a connection for so many people so I was puzzled why I did not. Sometimes I am still curious why I do not respond to it. I confess a part of me wishes I did.
Having a commonality with others feels good and I confess I so rarely feel that with other kinky people. Well more specifically and accurately, I rarely feel a kink connection. I am exceptionally fortunate to have formed beautiful friendships with fellow kinksters but rarely do I feel a connection in regards to a kink/lust/desire. Interestingly this lack of kinship has left me wondering if I am kinky at all. That is a concept I still question nearly every day.
What makes one kinky? Oh I know the definitions but no matter how many dictionary examples I read, I find my question goes unanswered and I feel a little lost. In some ways it almost feels as though I have disconnected from that part of me even though I know that passion still lives.
I miss that sensation. I miss feeling present in my submission, in my slavery, in my feeling of property, in connecting with others.
December 4th, 2013
I woke this morning with what I can only describe as a rather debilitating and piercing pain in my right ear. I thought I had been grinding my teeth extra hard and that as my day started, my jaw would relax and the pain would disappear. After feeding the cats and wishing Master a good day I continued my routine making my way to the stairs, heading back to our room. After only 6 steps I was inflicted with a collapsing shriek, (a noise which I soon realized came from my mouth), but in the moment felt foreign. Instantly I slammed against the wall, my entire body sliding down, only stopping when my bottom hit the floor. All at once everything hurt. My head felt dizzy, I was covered in sweat and a rush of heat consumed me.
I have been inundated with ear infections for as long as I can remember. In fact I was born with them, coming out of the womb with an already compromised immune system. Through the course of my 40 years I have had countless infections and have even burst my right ear drum twice. Fortunately the body heals; however, scar tissue remains and continues to build with every nasty little bug that decides to make my ear home. Doctors tell me because of my constant infestation I have built a tolerance for pain which is why my emergency doctor told me it took my drum to perforate before I even knew something was wrong.
Unless you have had an ear infection you do not know what it feels like. There is a pulsating tenderness, one that renders you helpless. Nothing you can do makes it feel better. You can not rock the pain away or soothe it with a hot compress. To date the only thing I have found that offers the slightest comfort are the vibrations from my blow dryer. If I hold the heat at arms length away from my ear, I feel a mediocre sensation of relief. The heat of course does not help with the temperature, something I rarely am inflicted with but unfortunately have today.
When I walked into the emergency my temperature was 40.1C or 104F. Of course being so high there was an immediate state of concern and I was given an antibiotic right there in the admissions chair. Quickly thereafter I was given a few more medications along with 3.5 hours of fluids and together it has quieted my fever, lowering it to a mere 37.5C or 99.5F. Regardless of how much I have cooled, the additional heat of the blow dryer only adds to the discomfort of being hot but it helps lesson the pain.
This is very much a negative loss of control. Nothing I do lets me feel better. I am dominated by the ache. I have to be patient, allow the antibiotics to do their job and rest in the meantime. I loathe this sensation. I loathe hurting. I positively despise feeling helpless.