Clowns scare me. In fact they terrify me yet that creepy little picture depicts my internal Pandora perfectly. That lopsided creature is eerily unpredictable and although that is a smile stretching from cheek to cheek, I think it is easy to read the evil that lurks behind its two points. And from a distance, one might think it is a playful jester meant to entertain but in reality, once up close looking into its hollow eyes, you suddenly realise it is not the entertainment but rather you are.

The conversation was inviting, quiet and friendly. I had wanted to get to know this woman who desperately craved to be an owned toy. My initial approach was to ask questions about her day, about her hopes and goals for her life; however, the more I asked and the more she responded with an overwhelming desire to please I quickly found myself disappearing and Pandora taking over.

Now I do not have dissociative identity disorder, there is only one of me living inside my head; however, something does happen when my sadistic lusts surface. It is not that I lose control but rather gain a whole new sense of it; an all consuming power where I want to manipulate, enforce and yes even evoke fear – sexually explicit fear in a willing toy.

And through our two hour exchange I did just that. I said things to “c” that I have never spoken aloud to anyone, not even Master. I felt a surge of raw energy and the more she obeyed, the more I demanded. When she expressed soft tears I actually felt my cunt convulse and my heart beat faster. She fed me and I in return fed her. We played off of each other: her desire to please and my ache to cause pain.  I have never come across a more determined submissive; her compliance, her motivation, her passion for utter domination supersedes anything I have ever experienced before – to the point where it is a little scary.

Scary but also exciting. Terribly exciting. Thankfully I had Master close by because my sexuality was quickly overpowering any rational thought and he kept me under control, which I greatly appreciated and needed.  Perhaps it is because I chain my sadistic tendencies; I hold them hostage every day, diligently keeping them contained that when I open that psychological box all hell breaks loose.

To say I was a frazzled frenzy throughout and after my sadistic feeding would be an understatement. Once I had sent “c” to eat and sleep I sat, shaking trying to catch my breath.  I felt foreign in my own skin and I was surprised by the moisture seeping through my pants, dripping into the sofa seat cover.  I do not get wet very easily and rarely is there enough to soak my pants but yesterday, holy, yesterday there felt like there was enough liquid to fill a cup. I was ravenous for pleasure and having Masters approval I proceeded to think erotic thoughts until I came. And wow did I cum.

Interestingly, once my orgasm had subsided I felt a quiet wave of guilt and uncertainty.  I know I had done nothing wrong. I had ask Master permission to engage with “c” and I was fully encouraged by “c” to use her body for my pleasure. In fact, it was “c” who made a few suggestions such as using nipple clamps instead of weak clothes pegs and playing her cunt. Under no circumstances do I believe I took advantage; however, my own struggles with sadism started to rear their ugly heads which is most likely why I went for a brisk walk to help clear my mind.

I will not deny my arousal. I will not hide from the intensity that filled my entire being. I take no liberties and require full consent from anyone I play with. Still, I struggle with what I crave – not because it is wrong – no. I struggle with it because a part of me does not believe I deserve such pleasure; that it is not my place to feel such erotic bliss.

Yesterday sparked something inside of me; it brought the starving beast out and she has had a taste and wants more. Now to find a balance within.

~cockdoll

(Art by Anton Sumenov)

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