And More from MoR

You know – at least i hope youall know – that despite all my bandying around the terms “Master” and “slave,”  MoR and i haven’t made any commitments to each other.  So for all His “MY property” talk, i’m not.  i just want to put that out there  – this relationship may well crash and burn or fizzle out.

We are trying it on though.  Playing with it.  He writes, and says i may share this here:

Master of the Revels defined.  It was a position at the courts of medieval noblemen and kings.  Its function was to organize events, parties.  They arranged the talent, the entertainment and then made sure the event unfolded as planned. 

Or perhaps “Puppet Master”.  Puller of strings, maker of things to happen.  We like to see happiness around us  and to know we are creators of it. 

For example, aisha likes tools used on her – if they are properly used.  She loves that.  As Master, I must sometimes push my “self” down so that her “self” can rise, be uplifted and joyful. 

I do not like tools for they place things between me and her – they make her more remote from me, and she reacts to the tools not to me or my touch.  I want her reacting to MY  touch.  But ok, she loves tools.  So I push my “self” down and use the tools on her. 

Floggers (not sure why they call them that, they should really call them “massagers” – their stroke massages and they can feel wonderful, light to the touch, heavy to the touch, thud, or tingle by dragging them softly over skin, ever so lightly), crops, canes, paddles (I have a clear one of Lucite – I can see her skin, beautiful creamy butt compress under that, I like that one), straps (she likes straps, I like the sound but since there is no touch, not so much), quirts (a nice one I modified from 4 hard leather strands to 30 or 40 soft leather strands – nice).  I almost resent having to use them for they distance me from her. 

So I meet MY needs by putting my left hand on her shoulder as I use the right to wield the tools for her.  Through the left hand I can feel her body’s response to what I am doing with my right – changes in musculature, flexing of muscle, flesh and sinew under my hand as she absorbs what I do with my right. 

She sighs under the touch of the tools, grunts, makes happy chocolate-eating sounds (Mmmmmmmmmm) so I know what I do is delicious for her. 

Every now and then I sneak that off left hand under the stroke of what I am doing to gauge hardness of stroke – moderating it or intensifying it for her so that she can experience as much as she can – taking her to the edge to her maximum of pleasure, and sometimes to the edge of pain.  I check the effect, sliding fingers into her – no resistance – she lubricates EXTREMELY well – she likes what I am doing.

BDSM at its best is a thing, an experience of great beauty.  Two acting out together our little secret of how to make each other happy – meeting each others needs.  I orchestrating (doing what I do best and like most – making things happen, stopping that inertia of everyday life to make things happen) events for her to enjoy (clearly what SHE does best – enjoy). 

I see in BDSM one of my tasks is to create a world for her in which she can see in herself the beauty I see unfolding as I create beauty through and in her.  Positioning her, her body, subtle differences of light and tone, darkness and light, shadow, shapes, hues of color to delight the eye, the hand, touch and sensations for both of us.  My touch of her, her absorbing the sights, sounds, sensations. 

Please don’t tell them – the REST of the world – no one will ever work again – they will do just THIS – create happiness, beauty one for the other, thrills, goosebumps on the others skin.

Sometimes I do bondage with cloth of beautiful colors, blues, shades of orange, black and I enjoy her curves wrapped tightly in beautiful colors.  I am here, I can see all this, take it in, beauty for the eyes, the heart to behold, touch, caress, stroke and enjoy but she? 

She is there – IN it, not really removed enough to be able to SEE the beauty I see. 

She can FEEL it – sometimes I stop and point herself out to her so she can see it (perspective might be different, appreciate her for her curves from a different perspective, not only from distance and angle but from her mind with whatever goods and bads she associates with her body bound up in what she sees – I not encumbered by that, just able to enjoy the beauty I see unfolding before me, letting Madison Avenue and their pejorative connotations go to hell – that’s fat, that’s not fat, that’s pretty, that’s not pretty –

I can let all that go and just enjoy the beauty I see). 

I try to allow her to see her beauty as well, to SHOW it to her, make HER see it as well – hopefully to allow HER to share in MY joy of the scene unfolding before me.

Laughing

          but her eyes take on the 1,000 yard stare, roll back a bit, going into subspace, her feelings going an entirely different direction of their own – not the direction mine have taken but a good direction in their own right. 

I put my mouth next to her ear, breathing in it, letting the air of my breath softly touch her, I allow her to react to that, then I kiss her ear, then gently bite her earlobe…

letting her experience more as she gets ever wetter to the sounds of my laughter, gently, softly in her ear and I kiss it once again, my hand in her hair pulling just the right amount.

So – i read His words and am seduced. 

i think Sfp is right, MoR needs his own blog too.  And i’m not trying to cop out on my own blogging – i may even be back later today.   i don’t want to be like those people who get all smitten with someone and quote them all the time til you think you’re gonna scream. 

But i wanted to share more of  His perspective. 

{Once again, paragraph breaks are mine.}