Christ, Cuffs, and Cats

Alas! Parting is such sweet sorrow.

The good Lord above guided me to a family who was interested in little Motor

It was especially touching as I was waiting in my vehicle for the family to come pick him up. I was giving him some pets and saying my farewell. I think he could detect the sadness that was creeping up, as he started gently headbutting my hand and showing a little more affection than usual, as if he was saying, "It's OK, Mommy."

That is where fostering animals is bittersweet. You are thrilled to get them a forever home, but an attachment definitely forms. This was especially true in my case, as the Lord enabled me to help raise Motor and his siblings from the day they were born. I wonder what it is like for persons who foster children...

Anyway, we only have one baby left! He is definitely our most active boy. He is a weirdo too. He chases his own tail, wedges himself between pillows, and treats the litter box like it is a sandbox--but somehow does not make a mess. He also has a thing for sleeping on legs and has the cutest little meow. Lord willing, the right people will come soon.

I have been writing down my dreams for a long time. Here are a couple that I had in the same night when I was in my late teens/early twenties:

1. I was a teenager and was with some friends. We were trapped in a place by a large man who intended to rape us. At some point in the dream, the man left the premises. I managed to get all of us outside.

At another point in the dream, I ended up killing our kidnapper (all of the details surrounding this either were not in the dream or were not remembered when I woke up, which I am kind of glad about). I initially requested to ride with my friends, as I was headed for the airport and did not know the way; however, I ended up following them in a separate vehicle. The dream ended with all of us reaching our intended destination. - Hooray for happy endings!

2. I was walking home when a car pulled in front of me. This dream yet again involved a large man, and he stepped out of the vehicle, telling me to come to him. Naturally, I declined.

He grew angry and took hold of me, clasping a hand over my mouth. I broke free and ran to my neighbors' house. They didn't answer despite my cries for help and my pounding on their door.

The man caught up to me, but I escaped him once again. This time, I was able to make it to my own home. I could hear my mother drying her hair. The door was locked, so I screamed at the top of my lungs in order to be heard through the door and over the hairdryer.

My mother answered the door, annoyed with being interrupted. I started to tell her about the attempted kidnapping, but she just shrugged me off and stated that she didn't have time to deal with my problems.

That last bit made me chuckle. So funny what our brains pick out from our time awake and plug into our dreams. I am so curious as to what other people dream about. Perhaps I will put out a forum post asking this.

This happened early last year. I had just relocated and was in need of furniture. Due to my financial situation at the time, I needed to utilize Facebook Marketplace and OfferUp to furnish my apartment. I certainly did not mind this, however. I was able to meet plenty of lovely people and acquire some very nice things. I am in love with my coffee table and lamps.

The time eventually came when I needed to get a sofa. I browsed the seemingly endless options on Facebook Marketplace and made note of a few of them. One was being sold by a man who lived only ten minutes from my new place, so it seemed logical to see his couch first. I reached out to him, we settled on a date and time (a day or two later and at around 5:30 p.m.), and I played "the waiting game" until I could pay him a visit.

When the day finally arrived, I could not help but notice some oddities. Unlike any other time I had gone to someone's home to pick up an item, I did not have a great feeling about this one. I also told my mother what I was doing when having a casual conversation with her. Her response was, "I don't like this." Strange, but I thought that she was just being an overprotective mother.

Then, during a normal conversation once again, I told my ex-husband what I was up to. He remarked, "I am uncomfortable with you doing this. I would rather you have me wait until I get off from work so that I can come with you." Odd, but I brushed this off too. He was just being a gentleman and wanting to look out for a lady.

I proceeded to send a message to the man via Messenger to let him know that I was ready whenever he was. "OK." he replied, "I just need to run to the store to pick up some things then. I will be back at around 6:30."

Another wave of trepidation washed over me. Why is everyone having a bad feeling? was what went through my mind, but once again, I pushed the thought aside. Meh, I am overthinking things because of how my mother and Chris reacted. My brain evidently disregarded the anxiousness that I felt before speaking to my loved ones. Not to mention that no one had any issues with my previous endeavors.

When 6:30 came around, off I went. I crossed the dark parking lot (this was in January) toward the apartment complex and navigated through the maze of doors until I reached the one that was located at a corner of the building. Each step from my car to that door became heavier and heavier until it felt like I was wearing cement blocks for shoes. The anxiety was so severe that I was actually perspiring a bit and was short of breath. I had never felt anything like that in my life, but still, I pressed on, "convincing" myself that I was being silly. I lifted my arm--which also felt like it weighed a hundred pounds--and knocked on the door. 

No answer.

I waited a few seconds and knocked again.

Nothing.

At that point, my body just took over, leaving my brain behind. It whirled me around and scurried me back to my vehicle. The anxiety instantly left as soon as I started driving away. I sent the man another message to let him know that I just stopped by and tried the door twice. I added that we could perhaps try again in the future, as I had already left. A good twenty to thirty seconds passed before he messaged me with:

"I don't understand. I have been sitting on my couch this whole time, which is only a few steps from the door. There is no way I would not have been able to hear you knocking. . ."

We never spoke again after that.

I am sure that others will have different theories, but when putting everything together, I am fully convinced that God was protecting me that night. I went on to get a sofa from another gentleman, and there were no issues at all.

Let me just say that if you ever have a bad feeling about something, do not ignore it! Have someone with you, take all precautions, or just avoid whatever is bothering you entirely. Since this incident (not because of it though), I have found myself listening to a lot of true crime stories. I cannot tell you how many of them included the person having a bad feeling but ignoring it, only to meet a very unfortunate end as a result.

I really want to emphasize this for our community. Our kink/lifestyle involves us intentionally putting ourselves in vulnerable positions. Please, be careful. Do not ignore that still, small voice setting off warning signals.

Let me just first state that Doms are splendid specimens. I appreciate their willingness to take the lead and their desire to care for a submissive. I admire their confidence and bravado.

All that being said, I have just a few requests, which are based on the experiences that I have had with Doms thus far.

Also, as I have mentioned in a previous post, this is coming from the perspective of a Christian, heterosexual, female submissive:

1. Please stop putting your sub in charge. I have noticed a confusing pattern with the Doms whom I have spoken with. I get questions such as, “[When/where] would you like to meet?” and when speaking of bondage, “What would we do when we got together? How would I tie you up?” I am also told things such as, “I’m a Dom, but I think that in the end, the woman should have the final say.” and, “I want whatever you want. You decide.”

I am going to give the benefit of the doubt here and assume that I hear these things from fellas because they are trying to be chivalrous. That is great, but truthfully, what these questions and statements are communicating to a submissive is that she is in control, that she is at the head of the dynamic. Additionally—and I hate to write this because it feels rude—it makes you seem lazy.

Unsolicited suggestions here, but perhaps you could word your questions and remarks this way:

“Are you available on [insert date here]? If so, let’s go to [insert place here].”

“I am interested in trying [insert scene/play here] with you. Let’s get together.”

Learn as much about your sub as possible, take note of her desires and limitations, and then tell her what is going to be done in a respectful, loving way. It will build her trust in you and your leadership. There is an art to being a Dom, which is one of the numerous reasons why I respect the role. It takes a lot of work.

2. Ask questions. I do not think that I can emphasize this one enough. Over and over again, I have encountered the same pattern: I ask a question. He answers. I ask another question based on his reply. He answers. And so on, and so on. He never asks me anything, and eventually, I get irritated and stop sending inquiries. The dialogue almost immediately dies when this happens.

You may be thinking, Well, perhaps he is no longer interested, Rosybeth. Maybe you should take a hint! I would agree with you on this—except that it happens right from the start. The Dom will reach out to me expressing his interest, and that is where his effort ends.

Please, for the love of all that is good, ask questions! Also, repeatedly using the go-to of, “How are you doing?” does not count.

I genuinely want to hear from you Doms out there on why this occurs so often. I think that the online aspect has something to do with it, which is partly why I absolutely despise dating websites. I do not consider The Cage to be a dating site but more so a social media one, so no—I am not being hypocritical 😉

3. Stop ghosting. This one is across the board. Regardless of who you are in the BDSM community, ghosting is a problem. It is another social crime made all too easy to commit, thanks to dating sites. To be fully transparent, I have done it once or twice. I admittedly hold Doms more accountable though because they claim that they want to be in a leadership position.

Ghosting is such a terribly rude thing to do. We all understand that there are circumstances that would prohibit one from responding in a timely manner. I read about someone who disappeared for months because of a major accident. This is not what I am referring to. I am speaking of instances that are completely within one’s control: focusing one’s attention on a potentially good match, not being interested anymore, needing a break, etc. These are the times when you need to message the sub and be honest with her. Yes, it can be uncomfortable, but learning how to handle the discomfort helps your emotional maturity and sharpens your communication skills. It is not the end of the world. The other party will get over it and move on.

Nothing I wrote here has any contempt behind it. As I said, I think that Doms are marvelous. I would honestly like for a Dom to write something like this for subs. I am quite curious to know what we do that is frustrating.

God bless.

- Rosybeth            

Interesting dream I had:

I was looking out of a window toward the street. Much to my astonishment, a tan-colored tarantula about the size of a car marched down the street. People were gathering in order to see the sight.

The oversized spider turned and scurried toward traffic. One vehicle, which was being operated by a young man with a small afro (amazing the random details that can be remembered), had to screech to a halt in order to avoid hitting it. The teen laid on the horn, startling the tarantula. He continued to beep his horn as he drove toward it.

The creature became agitated, moved toward the driver's side of the vehicle, and sunk its fangs into it, penetrating the car and barely missing the teen. Before the poor boy could make his escape, the arachnid grabbed him and gobbled him up. The horrible sight created panic among those who witnessed it.

*Flash to a different scene*

It seemed as though the aforementioned incident was just the beginning of a spider-themed apocalypse. I was now in a different building, following a crowd of people through the gray hallways and to a safer place, Lord willing. I somehow lost the crowd after a bit and looked for anyone whom I could find.

I did eventually run into a girl. She claimed that she "knew the way"--whatever that meant--so I followed her. We reached an exceptionally dark alleyway, which gave me pause; however, the girl continued running. Not long after she disappeared into the black, I heard horrible, disembodied shrieking. I quickly ran in a different direction, bumping into yet another girl.

We found a stairway in some building and started descending the steps, only to find ourselves ascending them instead (think impossible drawings: the staircase). I thought for a moment and then became philosophical. I spoke of life and its puzzles. I mentioned that puzzles needed to be solved in order to get through life. As I carried on with my monologue, the impossible staircase opened and revealed stairs leading us downward. The dream ended with the girl and I reaching the bottom of the staircase and walking through a door.

Earlier this year, I decided to throw on my latex scuba suit and dive into the vast sea of BDSM in hopes of finding out some things: the kind of Dom I want, what kind of sub I am, what my limits are, etcetera, etcetera.

While exploring the depths of this especially interesting ocean, I crossed paths with a wonderful Dom (tie me up right now) who mentioned the possibility of “training” me. I initially had no interest, but after some deliberation, I decided to give it a whirl.

Here is what I learned from it:

1. I do not like self-bondage. I mean, I really dislike it. I find it tedious and boring. What makes bondage fun for me is the sense of being overpowered by a fella and rendered helpless in his presence. There is a thrill to being at his mercy, never knowing what he is going to do and if/when he is going to release me. When I do it to myself, it’s, “Welp, here I am. Just sitting here. Being tied up. . .” Instead of feeling some sort of exciting adrenaline rush, I was thinking about what I needed to add to my grocery list. Side note: I am also absolutely terrible at self-bondage—even with practice—which did not help anything.

2. My partner needs to be local. Local enough, anyway. Max I think I would go is a couple hours, and that is pushing it. I did not understand until receiving some training how important it was for me to have my partner physically present, especially in this dynamic. When I am getting to know someone, I want to be able to study the person’s facial expressions and mannerisms, right down to how he carries himself when he walks. I want to make eye contact. I want to be able to go out and enjoy an activity with him. These are all things that just cannot be done from behind a computer screen.

3. I am a wimp. As I mentioned in a previous post, I can get through the more stressful bondage positions when I think of Christ’s suffering, but being put in said painful positions is not my “cup of tea.” I like bondage because I enjoy the feeling of helplessness and the freedom that comes with temporarily not having to make decisions. I can handle the difficult bindings for a couple minutes, and doing so here and there is even welcome because it would make me appreciate the tamer ones, but it is not something that I would want to do regularly. I see bondage as a romantic activity, so I do not want to be in a place where I am eager for the session to end.

4. Words are powerful. Whether they were spoken or written, my Dom’s words had a profound effect. I know that this seems obvious. What we say to others has some level of impact in general, but I did not realize just how much I needed this in the D/s dynamic. Through his training, I discovered that I fancied the mind games associated with BDSM quite a lot.

5. I like the submissive positions. Nothing to add here, really. My Dom would have me practice ten different positions, and I found them rather enjoyable.

I could go on, but this post is already feeling as though it will be forever long. I am very grateful for this experience and feel blessed by the effort he put into training me.

God bless, my rosy friends. 

A little over nine weeks ago, one of the stray cats that we took care of decided to have her litter on the back patio. It was a difficult birth, one that actually required the last kitten to be pulled out by hand.

The poor little girl, whom we named “Squiggy,” was already very ill and only made it a day longer before passing away, leaving behind her five babies. When the realization of her death sunk in, resolve and panic did the tango in my head. We scooped up the furry little sausages and brought them inside.

The good Lord above, my brilliant mother, and the internet came to the rescue. My eyeballs took in as much information as my mind would allow, and off I went, driving above the speed limit (only slightly!) to the pet store to get supplies: feeding bottles, powdered formula, gloves, baby wipes, etc.. We put together a humble bed for them. At first, it was just a cardboard box with an old towel covering a heating pad. Next was going through the adorable—yet stressful—learning curve on how to feed and burp a neonatal kitten who is fresh out of the oven. I can tell you that I never found burping so cute in my life.

We went from relieving one end to the other. Kittens are unable to void or have bowel movements on their own until they are around four weeks old, so guess who has the lovely job of stimulating them when the mommy is not around to do so? Now, you know why I bought the gloves and baby wipes. Truthfully though, it was not that bad.

I take that back, there was a time when it was horrible. It was when we briefly switched their formula. I would have never imagined that much diarrhea coming out of such a small form. When we switched back to the original formula, however, they had trouble with constipation. It felt like it took forever to get the right combination there. We finally did though, and it was glorious.

Overall, the Lord blessed us with very easy babies to raise. Honestly, the most stressful part was weaning them. The reason why is that there was no more control. When doing everything for them, I could organize them.

Set up a plan.

Put them on my schedule.

When it came to weaning, I was on their schedule. No amount of smearing canned food on their faces could coerce them into eating it. I was stuck feeding them a formula/canned food milkshake—which was tedious to make—and sticking plates of food in their faces until something finally clicked, and they ate just the “big kitty” meals. Two of them required the isolation method before they finally caved. We had to leave them in a pen alone—while they were hungry—with a plate of food until they couldn’t resist anymore and went to town on it. Now, everyone is going on ten weeks old, and they all eat not only canned food but those crunchy, delicious kibbles that I am convinced are made of nothing more than flavored newspaper, no matter what brand it is.

Out of our five babies, two of them have homes at this point. One went to a gentleman whom I met on this site, actually! I love the pictures that he sends me. The other went to a friend of someone who works for the vet we have been taking them to. She is a lovely woman.

Just three more to go! Any takers? 😉

I am vacillating on whether or not to keep one myself. It just seems right, considering how much work went into raising them. Please do not see this as a complaint. There were some very taxing times, yes, but I am so glad that God blessed me with the opportunity to do this. What an interesting experience. I cannot even imagine how parents of miniature humans feel. When you are living in the moment, you do not really notice, but when you take a few minutes to sit back and really think about what the Lord enabled you to do, there is a tremendous sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. For me, it was like growing a garden of vegetables—fuzzy little vegetables that run around, scratch the heck out of us, knock over every trashcan they are able to, cuddle with us, and rub their tiny little faces against ours. Best garden ever.

The last thing that I will say is that the good Lord above and my mother are the MVPs in all this. She worked tirelessly on making sure they were taken care of, and God guided us every step of the way, protecting them from any major disaster that could have befallen them—which would have most likely been caused by me somehow. Much praise to them both.  

I received a couple requests to see the babies. Apologies for the wait. Here, we have Screech, Luna, Motor, Squiggy, and Smokey. Please enjoy the fuzzy, overwhelming cuteness:

From my own experience and after hearing from others, I have established that the BDSM lifestyle is still considered taboo in the Christian world. This is most unfortunate because if those who frown upon the lifestyle investigate it more, they will find that it—what I enjoy about it, anyway—is quite biblical in nature.

I will start by saying that I used to consider my love for BDSM sinful. It was not until just this year that I really dove into researching the various aspects of it and figured out where in the community I fit in. When making this discovery, by my Lord and Savior’s guidance, I was able to see how I could reconcile my faith with my kink. It is still a work in progress, but here is what I gathered thus far:

1.      I am one who is drawn to the disciplinary aspect of BDSM. I especially like the idea of having a Head of House, or HoH, type of Dom. When looking into this, I saw that both discipline and the HoH/sub dynamic aligned with a biblical marriage. This is speaking strictly as a heterosexual, monogamous, Christian female submissive, of course. I know that the dynamics in this community vary a great deal. Moving on. . .

They align with what God put into place in that the Dom (the man) is in charge, and the sub (the female) submits to him. She focuses on serving him and maintaining a clean, peaceful home environment. He takes care of her by providing for and protecting her. When the two are Christ-fearing individuals, the man submits to the ultimate Dom, which is our Lord and Savior. Doing so helps him make wise decisions and care for his sub in accordance with God’s will. Ecclesiastes 4:12 states, “A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” I view the three strands as being God, a husband, and a wife.

2.      With regard to kink, I fancy bondage a whole lot. I love the idea of being in a classic damsel-in-distress scenario. Being tied up by a man and left at his mercy is an exhilarating experience. It is even more of a turn-on when the man can overpower me, pin me down, and keep me in place with his strength alone.

This is not exactly uncommon. Many women enjoy the latter of these scenarios because they have a primal desire to seek a strong mate, as acquiring one will result in healthy children who will keep the human race going. A man capable of bending a woman to his will by sheer force will trigger said desire, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with this in God’s eyes. He created men to be stronger than women. He created the aforementioned longing in us ladies.

Bondage can even be used as a way to honor Christ. The Dom who is currently training me has placed me in stressful—even painful—positions at times. While I was in one of these positions, he told me to think of the suffering that Jesus went through in order to set us free. This had a profound effect on me. As soon as he said this, I went from wanting desperately to be released to wanting to endure it for however long I needed because the pain made me feel connected to my Savior. I understand that this may sound strange, but that is what happened!

Where kink becomes a problem is when it is exercised in a sinful way. If it becomes and idol that one focuses his time and energy on more than the Lord, it’s an issue. If—because of engaging in this activity—she starts to behave inappropriately or wants to do things that would go against God’s word, it’s an issue. This is where partners have to hold each accountable, study the Word often, and maintain proper communication to prevent anything like what I just said from transpiring. It is a lot of hard work but definitely worth it.

Even though I have written all of this to defend BDSM as a Christian, and even though I would like for Christians to be a little more understanding in this area, I admit that there is a certain part of me that enjoys having this “secret kinky life.” It makes it that much more exciting. It is fun to feel like I am part of some underground community. Fifty Shades ruined that a little bit because BDSM then ventured into mainstream and became somewhat trendy, which is no fun. Anyhow, I digress. Let’s go back to what this blog entry is about.

You can be a firm follower of Christ Jesus and be a lover of BDSM. The end.     

I have a lot of apocalypse-type dreams, and this one was no exception.

I was in a church of sorts with a group of people. I was wrestling with, and intermittently kissing, a young, tall, strapping African-American man. The rest of the group chatted happily among themselves, but there was a feeling of tension in the air.

A shadowy figure suddenly came to us, and we all listened intently as it told us that we had great power. It’s instructions were that we were to fight a destructive force, and chances of survival were slim to none. When we exited the building, we observed nothing but chaos all throughout the city. Evidently, Armageddon was just beginning.

A young, Asian woman and I paired off and elected to take the bus. To where? I have no idea (I do not even know why public transportation was still in service while the world was ending). The bus driver moved very slowly through the ocean of screaming, frantic people. I recall feeling both overwhelmingly anxious and excited. I also remember telling my partner what my plan of attack was. Her response was, “Really? I was actually thinking of going to the pub. Get drunk one last time, you know?”

Her remark got me thinking of what I should do. The dream abruptly cut to me driving to Edward’s, my friend, home. I knocked on the door with the intent of simply saying my goodbyes, which I still ended up doing, but I was slightly delayed by Edward answering the door in nothing but his skivvies, looking nervous for whatever reason.

In our conversation (I evidently got over him being scantily clad), I said I wanted to fare him and his family well. I also suggested that we take the train to see our other friend, Marcus. Edward agreed, and this is how the dream ended.

A bit of a disappointing one. It seemed like it was going to be so exciting with the shadow telling us about our superpowers, and then it ends with me talking to my friend in his underwear…

Anyone else had any fun dreams lately?