Steellover

Okay so I'm in this really weird mood today, really all weekend long.  Tense, heart pounding, anxious and in a near constant state of arousal. Am I oversharing here? Well maybe. 

I do occasionally write erotic fiction.  It's a cathartic experience, and a way to live vicariously through the characters, experiencing everything I would hope for in a relationship.  So I just wrapped up one of these and submitted it, and it's left me in this hyper-sexualized submissive mood.  But fiction and fantasy aren't reality are they.  And that leads me to what I wanted to post about, which is how we shape our reality.

I hope this isn't too cringe, or again, I don't mean to over-share.  But a few years ago, I had an experience with a woman that was incredibly powerful and it shook me to the core, and ever since I've been chasing that high. I'm not even sure I SHOULD share this, because a gentleman shouldn't kiss and tell, but she was a pro domme, and, well, being a kinky submissive here in a sexually conservative can be a lonely experience. So I turned to someone- anyone- to fill the void of companionship.  I was not in a relationship at the time, and eventually realized that this "professional" relationship couldn't give me the fulfillment I was seeking.

She had started off by flogging paddling, and spanking me until my ass was red and there were tears in my eyes.  That flogger and that fiberglass rod really HURT!  Right up till the edge. I remember the fear, the sweat, the tension, the anticipation of waiting for the next strike, not wanting to use the safe word, but wanting to be strong for her.  

She also knew, because I had promised her (and kept that promise) that I had not orgasmed since the last time I saw her, two weeks ago. 

So she ordered me to kneel in front of a garbage bucket and stroke it.  The whole time, saying how little, tiny, and pathetic my cock was, how I could never satisfy any woman with that tiny pathetic cock.  Telling me about how her much larger lovers, "Real Men" had filled and stretched her, and put my limp and tiny cock to shame. In my mind I wanted to vicariously live through her lovers, admiring her tight body, and to be those guys. But of course, I just KNEW I never could.  Finally the verbal humiliation, and the degradation of being ordered to jerk off into a waste basket was so powerful that I was overwhelmed. I felt my whole body shake almost convulsively when I let go into the waste basket.  "Poor little boy had a boo-boo...maybe you need to wear diapers!" she had said, mockingly.  Then forced my head into the bucket and ordered me to clean up the mess.

Gross?  Degrading? Humiliating? Yes. All these things.

And here's the real problem:  It was the most powerful, and intense orgasm I've ever had.  The feeling was indescribably powerful, a thousand times better than any vanilla sex could ever be. A thousand times more erotic.  And in the presence of such a sexy, hot, and wonderful, understanding woman, it was utterly amazing. I wanted nothing more than to just grovel at her feet and bask in her power.  I was in a buzz for days about it, and now that I've been reliving it in my head, I'm can almost feel that same buzz.

And I've been chasing that high ever since.

If you've read this far and not quit in disgust (Because I wouldn't blame you if you did) then thanks for reading- but you see why this is a big problem.  

This is simply not condusive to a real healthy fulfilling romantic or sexual relationship.  Nobody but a pro would be into this.  It has become about "I need...." and what "I need" is just too out there for most people.  That's not how a healthy relationship works (even a kinky one.)

So from here on, I will condition myself to think about what SHE needs.  Taking care of HER wants. And if her wants are just straight vanilla sex and she wants me to be a gallant, manly stud, then I will gladly re-train my mind to derive the same satisfaction from being that for her.  This is the problem when you push things too far. It becomes like a drug, an addiction, and you live your life in vain trying to chase that high.

So anyway, sorry if this was too cringe.  Thanks for reading.  I maybe shouldnt' have foisted this on you but it is a true story and I am all about being open and honest.

I haven't posted anything in a while so I thought I would give a quick update.  Yeah I'm doing fine I guess, it's finally turning to spring, blah blah blah and all that. So, anyway, sometimes I will read something on the forums and it will inspire me to create a post, based on a particular topic.  In this case, it's being "ghosted."

I had met this amazing woman on a group outing. I thought she was amazing anyway.  Same age, similar interests, and we totally bonded over our love of the outdoors, among many other things.  I know this is a BDSM themed site, but I'll get this out of the way; she wasn't really "kinky" and I wasn't really going to go there with her, unless she had given a clear sign that she was, well, "Dominant."   She didn't, though, so I was content just to spend time with her and hang out as a typical romantic (albiet vanilla) couple.  Our first date was awesome: going to a jewelry making class, grinding and polishing a stone, followed by chinese food.  How many people can say they had a first date where they both came away with polished cabbed jewelry?

Anyway, we hit it off. I was pretty much digging her, though she was staying with family who lived an hour away, which made it difficult to get together regularly.  It was right before Christmas, and I had to visit family for the holidays, but while I was out of town we chatted and texted, shared photos, literally every day.  When I got back, we made plans to hang out, but she got sick (it WAS flu season so I don't think she was lying about that) and then she had some kind of family issues, and then, when I said I'd offer to drive out there, take her for a walk along the Snake River, and hunt agates in the hills, well, she was non-committal. 

And that was the last I ever heard from her.

And that sucked.  And no; there were no "Cringe" moments, or any arguments or awkwardness, or any instances where I might have messed up and let my inner kinky side accidentally show through;  I might have made a mistake like that in the past, but like I said I wasn't going there.  I was happy to find someone wonderful, amazing, attractive and cool- and that was fine with me. 

I have no idea what happened with her, or why she broke it off.  I do know that she seemed to be semi-nomadic, and never seemed content to stay in one place for very long.  For all I know, she had already left the state. When she was here, she was living with a couple half-brothers and more or less staying in her van with her dog.  She had lived in North Carolina, Colorado and more recently, Arkansas.  In other words, a free spirit, refusing to be tied down.  Her Linkedin page said she was a "Mom and homemaker" from North Carolina. Which added to the mystery.  She had never mentioned her kids or her ex-husband.  So that made me wonder, what was her past?  What was she running from?  I know that many people have baggage, but I didn't care.  Many people do.  I wanted to love and support her, and not judge her by her past.  But maybe that was why she ghosted me.  Maybe she was just afraid of being tied down again.  But in the end, I was grateful to have known her and spent the time with her that I did.

So that's all I got for today.

So this is sort of an update about something that happened to me a couple years back.  I won't repeat the whole incident, but I've gained a couple insights about things since then.

How it went down; I went to an adult hookup site, and found a profile that interested me.  An attractive redhead.with the tag line "A fierce chastity queen and fetish madame accepting proposals from submissive slaves who wish to be owned." Intrigued,  I investigated and it looked like her list of preferences and fetish ideas were close to mine, so I thought I'd follow up. I wasn't sure if she was just a pro, or someone looking for a deeper connection but at the time I was unattached and thought it might be worth checking out.  So I sent an introductory e-mail and asked "are you from my city?"  "Yes I am" was her short reply. Then I told her a little more about myself and thought I'd see if she wanted to meet for coffee and chat about interests, or, you know, just get to know you chit chat and see if there was a connection. One word reply: "Okay."  So I said, great! How about we meet Saturday early afternoon (1:00 PM) at this local coffee house?  "Sounds good." was the reply. 

In hindsight, it is clear that these were just auto-generated replies.    I had hoped to get her to open up a little more in the e-mail dialogue but I figured, well, maybe she'll open up more when we meet in person. But I was still rather apprehensive, and as it turned out I was probably not talking to ANYBODY but some computer algorithm generating auto-responses. So, that afternoon I texted her that I was on my way (no response, naturally) and when I got there- well, needless to say, there was no attractive redhead fierce chastity queen or fetish madame.  And the phone number I had for her was disconnected as soon as I tried to call her.

This all went down a couple years ago, back in February of 2023, and I talked about it here at the time, as I was kinda disappointed by the whole experience.  But a couple months later, I got curious, went back to that hookup site and really started digging around. I looked at ads from cities across the country.  Sure enough, there she was- same ad, same pictures, in a city 2000 miles away. But not only that, there were other ads with the exact same tagline and same text- but different photo sets!  And ads with the same woman's pictures- but different names, ages, and so on, to go with them.  And not just her- EVERY ad on that site was like that.  ("Hello, I'm so-and-so, possibly the worst high class mistress, but don't worry, we all say we're the best!" said several allegedly different people on there.)

It was all fake.  Every single ad on there.

I guess I should be glad; I wasn't taken for any money, and I've since heard horror stories about people being subject to blackmail after responding to the fake ads on this site. I don't know if that's true or not. So, no harm done but I still feel kinda dumb for being naive like that.

So then, I used a Google Image Search on the picture I had been drawn in by, just because I was curious.  It turns out the photos were taken from a popular TikTok model named Sylvanas, a self -described "Appalachian Goth", Bass player, and evolutionary biology major."  I don't spend much time browsing TikTok; to each their own but I consider it largely a waste of time, so I had no way of knowing how famous or popular she was.  And it should also be said that I have no hard feelings toward this Sylvanas person whatsoever. She obviously had nothing to do with those ads, and none of this was her fault. 

I guess the moral is, if you see someone on an adult dating site who may or may not be real- image search is a good tool to weed out the fakes and the scammers.

Oh dear Mistress, you give me fright

I'm even worse at math than Jack White

Write down things I don't understand

I'd rather be hit with your ruler if that was your plan

Oh how I'd have loved to be in your class

To feel the sting of your ruler on my bare assymptote

Instead I'll solve your puzzle like a good boy

You are so hot, I'd be your favorite toy

To tease and to teach while I kneel at your feet

But instead you order me, "class take your seat!" 

My real math teachers were not as beautiful or fun, 

but the answer, by the way is... Ten Point Six zero two eight seven five two one!

Okay so I'll try and make a brief one for a change.

Basically, what I've observed over the years is a generalization that goes a bit like this:  Dominant females tend to think "What can he do FOR me?," and submissive males tend to think "What can She do TO me?"

There's gotta be a happy medium in there.  Guys- it's not all about kink.  This is a partner who you love and want to be with and worship like a queen, so listen to her when she tells you how to make her happy. Let her be your queen.  Outside of just the hot steamy bits of the relationship, I mean.  Women- well, what can I say; us guys do like things kinky.  Is what it is.  Just like any relationship, it's give and take. Hopefully when two people get together they can have both of their mutual needs met.

(Cue the long-haired-mustache-dude-in-a-white-tank-top youtube guy...) Anyway that's it for now. See ya.

Free from pain and addiction now and forever, you can finally soar.

We scattered your ashes up in the hills, following the path up the canyon, then walked down to the creek and spread them out.  They will nourish the trees by the bank, giving life when they bloom again.  The creek will carry them down to the river, then the river down to the larger rivers, flowing even to the sea, perhaps giving nutrients to spawning fish.

Then I carried the last of your remains with me as I rode the chairlift.  Strapped on my board and skated over to a spot, under a tree well away from the main run, and sat down and dug a hole in the snow, dropping the ashes in.  Then, I packed the snow down over top of it so not even a trace of grey dust would be visible.  In the spring, the snow will melt.  You will nourish the tree and later the wildflowers that will bloom on that spot, high up the mountain.  People will glide by in the winter and you will always be a part of it, just like you were overall a hugely positive part of my life, and my life was much, much richer by having known you.  Though you could not escape your own darkness and addiction, you made a mark in this world that was overwhelmingly positive.  And you are missed by many, many people who loved you.

.

Sometimes I think, when I die, I'd rather have my corpse's mouth filled with dirt, and an acorn placed in my mouth, and buried not in a coffin, but planted directly in the dirt, under the grass and clovers. So, as my body decomposes, it nourishes the tree, and even after I'm gone to whatever plane of existence is next, the tree will grow and the circle of life here will continue.  

Or, perhaps, simply have my body dropped off somewhere remotely in the desert, away from any roads or prying eyes. Let the buzzards feast on my carcass, and the coyotes and scavengers pick me clean.   My remains can nourish the wildlife and be scattered over the desert by the crows, magpies and buzzards- and once again, the circle of life will continue.

My dream V-day date...

It's all about Her.  Making Her feel special.  

Whatever Her favorite restaurant is, I'll take her there.  I'll meet Her for lunch, at her work, wherever that is, and take her out.

We'll take a twilight walk up into the hills and watch the sunset. Well, maybe not; there's sleet and freezing rain coming down right now.  Dangit, why did they have to put Valentines Day in the middle of winter? So, when the weather gets better.  Maybe a trip to the hot springs. Well, last time we tried that, it was packed like sardines with couples. Probably not happening either.

We'll stay in then.  Or maybe go out somewhere nice for dinner, then stay in.

Whatever Her favorite movie is, we'll curl up by the fire and watch it together.

Obligatory box of chocolates?  Check.  I'll make sure it's Her favorite flavors.

And when I present it to Her, I'll reaffirm my devotion to Her.

Whatever I can do around the house to help Her, I'll do it.

Then, that night, we'll be intimate. But the details?  That is of course up to Her!. (Nope you don't get a cringe erotic story here. Personal lives are personal!)

But I'd like to think that I'd do these things each and every day for the one whom I feel is that special to me.  Not simply because the calendar says Feb.14th and Hallmark, See's Candys, and every commercial establishment is pressuring me to.  

I know said this last year, but I'll repeat it again:  For those of us without valentines day dates, lets get fucking drunk.

And I'll conclude by saying goodbye and best of luck to Lambsone.  She was always one of the people on the forums, and in these blogs, who I really admired as a classy and wonderful person.  She made her last blog entry earlier today.  I hope she, and every one else here on this journey together, finds what they seek, or at least, that gives them fulfillment and joy.  

Sentimentality and kink.... you either relate to them or you don't. The latter seems to be far more subject to individual preference, and harder for the average person to relate to, and thus I often tend to feel more guilty whenever I post about it.  When I do, it's because I ignore my own rule- don't post when horny.  Maybe I should be punished?  Ah crap there I go... 

Anyway, with that said, this post one be about that. (Promise!) It will be sentimental, about the good times.  Hopefully more people can relate to this one.

About 15, maybe 20 years ago, there was a group of us here in town.  We'd get together at the clubs to watch each other's bands play live.  It was a fun crowd of music fans, artists, and musicians.  I played a little guitar but wasn't in a band, but contributed more as a visual artist and was nonetheless close with that group.  We'd go out on the town, all meet up at the bar, all sit at a table, listen to the music, rock out, socialize, have fun, have some drinks.

But all good things fade away eventually, don't they.  People left the scene, started families, drifted away, or moved away.  The bands we played in stopped playing. COVID and the ensuing lockdowns happened and that pretty much drove the final nail into it.  And now, some of them are leaving this entire plane of existence, moving to the next dimension, where Jesus rocks with all of us old rockers together.  Most of us are not THAT old, all what you would call gen-X/Pre-millennials, but nonetheless I've lost two close friends in the last year, one of them succumbing to the effects of hard drinking and heavy smoking, the other not so much succumbing but rather SURRENDERING to a seemingly insurmountable opioid addiction.

Last weekend, we got together to honor one of our fallen friends.  It was both bittersweet and at the same time, joyous.  It would be a cliche to say he was with us in spirit, and that, as he said, he would have preferred to go out on stage, entertaining us with his music. (and he was certainly far from the first person who has said this, by the way.)  But it was true.  It was like he was there, as we were there for him. His band did a tribute to him, playing his songs, so that they would live on. Guests came up and filled in for him. Two other bands played, one of them being another of his past bands. The guitarist's son even filled in admirably on bass; he's in his mid-20s now; the same age as we were then.

We are all a little older now, most of us a little grayer, a little more heavy-set, and maybe not quite as tirelessly energetic as we were 10, 15 or 20 years ago.  But yet, it was like no time had passed.  We all hung out, rocked out to the music, drank cocktails, sat at the big round tables together, stood around and shared stories, talked music, bands, art, sports, or just shared crazy stories.   Everyone together again, people I hadn't seen, in many cases, since before the isolating horrors of 2020. 

And it was just like those glorious nights long ago.  The veil of loneliness and isolation lifted, being part of a group of communal kindred spirits, for a short while, and all of us missing our fallen friend, who had this wild energy that could lift the mood of a whole room simply by bursting in and exclaiming, "I love you man!"  Reliving the past yet feeling in the moment of the now.  I miss my friends who are gone, but I'm grateful for nights like the other night.   I wish that could happen again as it once did.  The old group, together for one more time. And I hope it's not the last. 

All of us- cherish the ones you love, but also the friends who make your life a little brighter, more fulfilling, positive, and more joyful.

(I haven't written a purely erotic post in a while, so if this is too cringe then I apologize in advance...)  

I will start by saying that everything that took place below, though fictional, was implied to be consensual by all parties involved.

I was in the play space.  It was a safe space, I knew.  But somehow, as I stood there blushing uncontrollably, fidgeting, nervously waiting for I don't know what was to happen next, I wondered how far She would take me.  I stood next to the brick wall, dressed in drag, my little naughty school girl  plaid skirt way too short for my comfort, as beads of sweat began forming under my sweaty blonde wig.  This was a safe space.  A private space, secluded enough-  but I hoped to God nobody else could see me like this. 

My ass still smarted from the flogging She had given me, and the cat-o-nine tails had made my back sting. Flogged to within an inch of using the safe word, tears in my eyes, it almost escaped my lips, but, perhaps sensing my limits, She had stopped.  Then she said simply, "You are ready to be my little whore.  Here's your outfit... put it on, ... and get out there."  I obeyed, relieved at the reprieve but still under Her spell.  "Whatever you want, Mistress!" I said eagerly.

Minutes passed, or perhaps time simply passed more slowly.  Not knowing what to expect or wait for until I heard a whistle. I groaned inwardly as Kyle strode into the courtyard.  He was Her stud.  I had been introduced to him a few sessions ago. I loved that he could satisfy her sexually, but I hoped to satisfy her in other ways. To be a good submissive... and a good little slut.  For Her.

I won't describe what happened next in too much detail. Sub space is like a drug, an intoxicating high, where you find yourself doing things you would never do in a normal head space.  Even my memories are blurred, lost in the rush of adrenaline and the vague thought of what I was really doing.  Let's just say that some money changed hands.  Fifty bucks for a blow, a hundred for a throw, she had said.   I knew She had arranged all of this, so I would not let Her down. Kyle seemed oddly satisfied too. "Thanks, you fucking ugly ho," he said, after I had finished with him.  He pulled up his pants, then reached up under my tiny skirt and grabbed my behind, before sauntering away.

More time passed. How long, I don't know.  I waited for Her there, as instructed. After a long while She appeared. Only, She wasn't dressed as she had been earlier, in that leather skirt that had made me such a submissive toy merely to see her wearing it.  Now, she had cowboy boots, loose-fitting jeans, a loose-fitting Philadelphia Eagles jersey,  and her hair was pulled back under a baseball cap.  Like a typical bro, with one exception. 

She was wielding a harness with a long strap on.  

She approached me.  "I wanna fuck you up the ass bitch." She said.  "How much?"

"F-f-uh... I mean, uh, one hundred for a fling...."  

"I'll give you fifty" she said.  I didn't argue with Her; that would be a bad idea.

"Kneel and suck it!" She barked.  "I see you've already been used.  You got cum on your face.  Now I'll show you how a real woman takes it!" 

I knelt in front of Her, sucking her large strap on for several minutes.  "You're a real pro at that!  Now I'm hard and horny!" She said, in a fake-deep voice. Seemingly satisfied, she ordered me to turn around.  "Now bend over!" She said, in the same deep fake-man voice.

I obeyed instantly, knowing what was coming.  She lubed up, then roughly pulled my pink panties down.  I felt it probing me gently, then felt the familiar tearing and pulling as it forced it's way into me.  I began to moan as the full length pushed further and further in. It filled me, stretched me, splitting me. I even felt sudden pressure on my bladder as she finally got the full length of it inside me. She began to rock, gently, than progressively harder. In my mind, I was somewhere else. Neither bliss nor pain, watching almost detached as She took me from behind, violating me.  I began to moan, which prompted her to smack me, so I tried to keep silent. I could almost feel her smiling, twitching, and hoping that She was getting off on Her end. She finally began to moan herself, as the thrusting rhythm I felt, as she rocked against my raised buttocks, reached a crescendo.....

.....back inside, I am kneeling in front of her, nose to her cowboy boots, wanting to touch them, basking in Her power and beauty, even dressed as She was. Like a "John." Only now, she wasn't the "john" but rather, she was now the pimp.  She had donned some faux gold chains after she had momentarily gone into the other room.  "You, bitch, gimme my money!" She said, and not at all playfully. Reaching into my socks, I handed her the $100, both the fifty she had given me, and the fifty I had received from Kyle earlier on.

"That's not all of it. Where's the rest? It was a fifty for a blow, a hundred for a throw!  You only gave me a hundred! Where's the rest of it!"

"But but, you said..."

"GIMME MY MONEY, bitch!" She said, slapping me across the face.  Stammering, I crawled over to where my street clothes lay piled in the corner, reached into my wallet, and gave her fifty dollars.

..... So, that's about it.  I hope this short story wasn't offensive or cringey.  Keep in mind that all of the fictional events described above were CONSENSUAL.  I do not condone forced prostitution or any form of human trafficking.  Rather, I just thought this would be an interesting play scenario.

It's the worst feeling.  Someone's mad at you, but you have no idea why, or what you did, and they won't ever tell you.

The thing is, I genuinely try not to step on anyone's toes. I try to be respectful and kind to everyone. Especially on this site. The only times I am ever not, is when someone says something that offends me or my core values- but in those instances, I will explicitly tell them why it was offensive or against my core values.  I don't like being passive aggressive.

So, the deal was... I was reading a blog post yesterday, from a regular blogger on here. I enjoy reading what other people post as much, sometimes more, than posting my own crap.  Because I don't want any personal drama to spill over onto here (and because it's probably against the rules anyway) I can't say who it was.  All I know is, I read a blog post they wrote and really connected with it- in a positive way. I wanted to leave a comment to let them know I appreciated it.  

The text window woudln't pop up. I couldn't figure out why. 

Then I tried to at least "Like" (Heart) the post- but it was disabled.  What was going on?  Some site glitch?

So then I thought, okay, well at least I will send them a D.M.  A message popped up, "You are blocked from contacting...(name of member.)" 

huh, WHAT?

The thing is, I don't remember any sort of negative interaction with this person at all, at any time.  Either on the forums or in a blog post- ever.   I have never contacted them in any fashion, nor have they contacted me.  It wasn't a "Rejection" thing because we are seeking the opposite thing anyway; I would never have a reason to approach them for a "Hey lets hook up" thing in the first place. I know sometimes disagreements erupt on the forums but I strive to avoid taking part in these kind of contentious topics- and certainly never got into it with this person.

So.... what did I do??  

I obviously must have struck a nerve but clearly didn't mean to. Whatever it was, if that person is reading this, then I am sorry if I somehow offended you, or said or did the wrong thing.  

I know there are some people who say "Well, it isn't your buisness what other people think of you" but I never agreed with that.  What other people think of you is a reflection of how you treat them, or how what you do and say affects them.  Unless you want to go through life saying "F$%^K it, I don't care if everyone thinks I'm a douche nozzle." In which case, you will probably end up being one. And I strive to be a better person than that.

And again, to the person who blocked me, I apologize for whatever it was that I did or said that got me blocked.  I hope it is okay if I still read your blog, because you are a great writer and you say some inspiring things.

So, I'll end this with a MUSIC CORNER:

The best way to honor a fallen comrade would be to share his music with all you people.  

Caustic Resin was a band that combined shoegaze pop with hard rock and a heavy, fuzzed out noise that washes over you with heavy psychadelic sounds.  So here, let this wash over you and take you away.  Bassist Tommy "Dirtweed" Romich passed away a couple weeks ago (upper left in band photo) so hopefully his music will live on.