I've been thinking a lot about boundaries lately.
From my toys I ask that they give themselves over into my hands, into my care. I tell them to trust me with their bodies and minds. I respect their boundaries, but if they don't coincide with my own, I try to think of ways to move that boundary further. Not because I don't respect the toy's opinions or feelings, but because I feel it's limiting the range and scope of our play. And because I feel that the toy would be better off without that particular boundary in place. I believe I know better than they do what is good for them. That's insanely arrogant, but in matters such as these I have so far turned out to be right.
The toys' sexuality is one part that I wish to control. I don't demand that control constantly, but when we are playing their bodies are mine. There are no limits to what parts of their bodies I controll. The dick is mine to dominate, just like the torso and face is. I ask that they give this control over to me, and eventually they do.
Ofcourse, I play with the toy because he enjoys it and wants me to. But I would never have bothered with it if I haden't enjoyed it too. And yet there is a strange hypocrisy to it. Because as I give pleasure, pain and enjoyment in every form to my subjects, I do not allow myself the same freedom. My enjoyment, let's be frank: My hornyness, is something I try to ignore. To stow away. To hide, almost. Sure, I bring out some great "Dominatrix" moments in my own mind later on. But fantasizing about it and actually enjoying it while it's going on... Those are two very different things.
An ear lobe in my mouth. The tention of the subject's shoulders, apprehension and exhitement mixed together. The gasp of pleasure as I suck, lick, flick it with my tongue. The relaxation as enjoyment takes over. And the gasp of pain, surprise, as I bite down. I have done precicely that what must now be over a hundred times. And I will say it now, because I couldn't say it then: THIS TURNS ME ON. Being so close to someone, whom I can manipulate like putty. Whose moods and emotions I can play like harp strings. So close, so close that I can almost (but only almost) read his mind. I wish I could scream it from the roof tops: This turns me on! This, and so many other things that I do to them. The toys. My toys. My boys. I love doing what I do because it gives me pleasure.
I find it rather bizzare... The submissives get all the "action" so to speak, in that they are alowed to come and I may even (in some limited ways) help them on the way there. But I, who am supposed to be the one with all the power and controll.. I don't get anything for me. My sexuality, my desires, are taboo when I play. I can't really talk to the toys about it, and T doesn't really want to know either. Oh, he'll listen.. But it feels like he'd prefer not to know.
Why do I limit myself so? Because I made an agreement with T, months ago, that my sexuality would be separate from theirs when I play with them. It was at least partially my idea to begin with, and I honestly thought that would work out. And for a while it did. But then it didn't anymore, because being dominant went in my mind from curriousity to strong interest. I'd almost call it a passion. And yet, because I don't want to risk loosing T, I try to contain myself. To not mix my sexuality up with theirs. Though I should have known that was a lost cause. What we do isn't sex, but it sure is sexual!
So now, my self-inposed boundaries are chafing. This might just be a black mood, who's origin I don't know. After all, it's past 3:30am. You're never your most sane at these hours. So this chafing might pass... Or it might not. If it doesn't, I'll talk to T about it. Or perhaps he'll talk to me. He'll be reading this blog in a few days anyway.