In blog comments and in the forums, both Sir and I have commented more than once on the topic of “brats”. It seems to be a hot topic issue; with many subs on The Cage identifying as a brat and the Doms on The Cage being split between the opinions of “Brats are a lot of fun” and “Brats aren’t really submissives”.
I’ve also seen many debates about what exactly is a “brat.” Both Sir and I will say to the community that I am not a bratty type of sub, which is true. But when we’re alone Sir has given me his quirked eyebrow and said “you’re being a little bit of a brat today”, which is also true.
So why is that? Am I really a brat or not?
I think this can best be answered with examples:
Brat
Sir: Little girl, you better stop that.
Brat: *giggles and continues to do the thing*
Sir: Do you want spanks?
Brat: No Sir *giggles and still continues to do the thing*
Sir: You’re going to be in so much trouble.
Brat: *smirks looking forward to whatever punishment is to come*
My Version
Sir: Kitten, you better stop that.
Me: *immediately stops* Awe, you’re no fun
Sir: Is that so? *arched eyebrow*
Me: No Sir, you’re very fun *nervous giggle*
Brat
Brat: *turns on radio*
Sir: Ugh, this song is so annoying
Brat: *turns it up really loud and starts singingalong* I’m sorry Sir, what was that? I can’t hear you over this awesome song!
My Version
Me: *turns on radio*
Sir: Ugh, this song is so annoying
Me: *immediately turns it to a song I know he likes*
Sir: Thank you, kitten
Me: You’re welcome Sir. I know you’re more of the elevator music type.
Sir: …
Me: What? *innocent face*
So in the world of Sir and kitten, a little sass here and there is our version of a bratty kitten. However, defiance or intentionally frustrating or annoying Sir would not be appreciated or tolerated, even if the intention is playful. I don’t need to be forced to submit, I offer my submission eagerly. I don’t need to be reminded who’s boss, I know exactly who I belong to. I enjoy the flare of a fiery flame in Sir’s eyes; but I prefer that to be the response to his naked quivering prey, not because he feels challenged.
So am I a brat? I think that depends on who you ask. A very strict Master would probably say yes and a playful Daddy would probably say not at all.
This is a text conversation we’ve had almost every single day for several months now. My love language is “words of affirmation” and my little side often gets worried and insecure when I’m feeling lonely. This conversation was built piece by piece during various conversations about my needs and our concerns in regards to maintaining a deep bond in a long-distance relationship, until it eventually became what I wrote out above. Now anytime I need reassurance, for any reason at all, I can simply ask Sir, “tell me the things,” and this is always his generous reply. It’s beautiful and sweet and each line has a very specific purpose and intended message.
I’m not sure how such a patient and adoring man found me, or why he wanted to call me his, but I am so very grateful he did and he does.
“You haven’t blogged in a while. Do you plan on picking that up again?” his deep voice says through the receiver. I smirk at the phone because we both know that’s all it will take for a new blog post to appear the following day.
First, I’ll preface this post by apologizing for any typos or missing or redundant words. I have a 4 pawed creature sitting in my lap and smacking my hands, who periodically climbs onto my keyboard and makes himself comfortable.
A lot has happened since my last blog post about Sir’s and my relationship. We’ve continued to spend our weekends together and our weekdays in agonizing longing for the other. We’ve continued to fall deeper into the depths of our dynamic and even though we continuously believe we couldn’t possibly love the other more, we still somehow fall more in love every single day.
This all-consuming connection has led to some dark days during the week. We find ourselves having difficulty rationalizing the reasons for our continued long-distance (although there are many important things that need to be handled before he can move). We’ve both found ourselves saying “What if I just packed up my stuff and left everything else behind right now?” Sir’s inability to control the circumstances has made him short-tempered with others and brought out his sadistic side, always seeking an outlet for his frustration. My loneliness has led to tearful nights just staring at the ceiling and a perpetual cloud of sadness that follows me everywhere. We work hard to dull the ache. We text all throughout the day, speak on the phone every night, we have online movie dates, and we send each other letters, but the only time the pain fully subsides is when we’re in each other’s arms.
We’ve had some busy weekends together.
We had our first public scene at a BDSM club.
It was light compared to our normal play, but it showed us both that we aren’t exhibitionists and probably won’t be doing very many public scenes going forward. Our playtime is very intense and we’re very connected and in tune with each other during scenes. While we enjoy the structure of rope bondage and M/s rules, we’re also very primal. We both found it hard to stay deeply focused on each other with the eyes of other people on us and the sounds of those sceneing around us. It doesn’t mean we will never choose to play again when we visit the club, but they probably won't be intimate scenes, rather just practicing rope ties or some such thing.
We went to a rope class.
Rather than teaching certain ties or specific knots, it was a class focused on setting a mood with rope. Rope isn’t just about bondage, it can be used in all kinds of ways. A Dom can use it for control, a sadist can use it to hurt, a Top can use it to restrain, a partner can even use it to soothe. I found this class to be very helpful in expanding our view of ropes. Typically Sir is very structured when it comes to rope. He has a tie in mind, a position he’s looking to restrain me in, a specific amount of discomfort he’s wanting to inflict. And this works for us. The time I spend being idle and pliable while he works my body and the ropes to his desired outcome allows me to get into a submissive and masochistic headspace and prepares me for whatever debauchery comes next. But the class showed us all of the opportunities and ways in which we can incorporate ropes into our play with less structure, rather just following instinct. It also opened our minds to all sorts of fun games that we can play with rope (future blog about that to come).
We went to the zoo.
This was lots of fun! Sir introduced me to a few of his friends that I hadn’t met yet and we walked the zoo together. We saw some neat things and I got to know his friends a bit. The part of this trip that resonated the most with me was when we visited the aquarium portion of the zoo. It’s an indoor area where all the fish and creepy crawlies are visible behind glass. It was crowded in this area, as it was a holiday weekend and everyone was seeking reprieve from the late summer sun. I am a bit claustrophobic. It isn’t small spaces per say, it’s small spaces with other people in the space with me that really gets me in a panic. I’ve been this way since childhood (because of things I went through as a kid). I can usually keep my cool in those situations from years of managing this fear, but all it takes to trigger a panic attack is one of those strangers touching me, like bumping into me or brushing against me as they pass. So when I start to feel my claustrophobia setting in, I will head to the outskirts of the crowd and try to give myself some space. This is what I did at the zoo. Nothing abnormal for me, but it didn’t take more than a couple minutes for Sir to zero in on my change in demeanor, even though it probably wouldn’t have been evident to anyone else. Despite saying I was fine he continued to asses me and coaxed me outside into the fresh air. He didn’t make a big deal about it. Didn’t make me feel embarrassed or ashamed when I offered an apology. He simply changed the atmosphere he knew had caused his kitten to clam up and we proceeded with our day. He has no idea how that made me fall more in love with him that day. He doesn’t know that I spent twelve years in a relationship with a man who doesn’t even know I'm claustrophobic because he never really looked at me, not the way Sir does.
We hung out around Nashville.
We stayed in an Airbnb and laughed in unapologetic awkwardness when we heard our neighbor cough through the apparently paper-thin walls right after we had some pretty noisy playtime. We visited with friends who we’ve become pretty close with, who we actually met right here on the cage. They’ve become a nice support system, normalizing our taboo dynamic with a unique dynamic of their own. It’s been interesting watching them change and develop in their own roles and knowing that maybe we played a part in that. And I am very grateful that we can be ourselves around them 100% of the time. If I’m feeling little, then I act little. If I want to talk about ropes or sex or BDSM, I just talk about it. I can wear my collars without any hidden meaning or purpose. I am pretty much always myself regardless of who is around, but it’s refreshing to know the people you’re around not only accept you but understand you too.
Went to a BSB concert!
My cousin and I danced and sang on the top of our lungs with all the other middle-aged women crying over Nick Carter. She tried to sneak vodka into the event in plastic bags in her bra and they leaked haha. It was amazing.
There was so much more, each day an adventure, but I think I’ve rambled on long enough for today. I’ll try to start blogging again more regularly.
At night, you dream of screaming girls and quivering legs, of red marks and wet cunts. When you’re alone in bed, giving yourself pleasure, you see the whip in your hand tearing into your victim’s flesh. When you daydream, you imagine tying her to a tree in that wood behind your house and flogging her until she cries, only to drag her back to the house by her hair and fuck her senseless.
Dear sadist: your cruelty is your love.
When you see her, you imagine her clothes torn apart by your hands, her skin soiled from the dirt on the ground, her mascara running down her cheeks. In her laugh, you can hear her squeaks and moans, her cries and screams, from the last time you had her strung up at the whipping post and had free run of her body. In her eyes, you can see her devotion, her submission to your will, her desire to please you.
Dear sadist: your cruelty is your love.
When you reach for her neck, you also slide your hand through her hair. When you slap her face, you press your palm against her throbbing clit. When you bend her over the bed and spread her legs with your knees, you whisper “good girl” in her ear. When the flogger makes contact with her skin, you feel your sheer awe of her for willingly offering her body up to you.
Dear sadist: your cruelty is your love.
When she starts bucking and resisting, you tell her that she needs it, that she can’t escape from it. In her eyes, you can see her say “fuck you” even though she remains as still as she can. You continue, slow and steady, unrelenting, until she gives into you again, the last of her resistance draining away in the rhythm of the paddle against her ass. You pause for a moment, stroke her cheek softly, wipe a tear away. “Good girl. Take ten more for me.”
Dear sadist: your cruelty is your love.
When her body is covered in sweat, her cunt soaked and filling the room with its scent, her throat raw with screaming, her knees buckling more and more often, when you know she is about as far as you can take her, you push her just a little bit more—not for you, but to show her just how strong and resilient she is. You give her another “good girl” as you run your hands over her reddened skin, telling her that it’s all over, that she’s done well, that you’re proud of her.
Dear sadist: your cruelty is your love.
And when you take her bindings off and bring her back down to earth, when she is at her most open and vulnerable, you cradle her in your arms and wrap your love around her, your love that comes from the beauty of her pain, from the strength of her mind, from the offering of her body. You can see in her eyes the gratitude and joy she feels for having been your instrument, a catalyst for your darkness and cruelty. She knows that giving her pain is a gift, that striking her skin is a kiss from your shadow self, that your cruelty to her is a sign of your utter trust in and love for her.
If you are a sub, have you ever given up your right to have your own thoughts? As a Dom, have you ever asked/required your sub to give you their thoughts?
This is an issue that came to a head for Sir and I this weekend. As my Dom, Sir is very intent on being in tune with my thoughts and feelings. So when we are together he will ask what I'm thinking probably 10-15 times in a day. Any time he sees me looking thoughtful, sees me smile to myself, thinks I'm being quiet, etc. he'll say "What?" or "What's on your mind?" or something similar. Typically I'll just say "nothing" because I'm thinking about something insignificant like a billboard I just saw or a conversation I had in the 4th grade, just random thoughts we all have. Sir has trouble accepting "nothing" as an answer and will often press it until I tell him whatever I was thinking. This feels very invasive to me. I submit to him in so many aspects but being able to have my own thoughts was the one thing I felt like I still owned for myself. We are a D/s dynamic, not M/s. We've talked about this many times because it's something we've both struggled with (him deciding when to let it go and when to push for an answer, and me feeling forced into giving him something I didn't want to give). So this weekend Sir and I were in a rental house and I was in one room getting dressed and Sir was in another. I made a thoughtful sound that he heard and so he asked "what?" I responded with "nothing" (I was just looking at a pulled thread in the lace of my panties) and from there it led to conversation I felt unprepared for.
Basically it came down to this; 1) kitten decides to allow Sir to completely own her mind and therefore give him her thoughts whenever he asks or 2) kitten decides that she is not willing to submit in that regard and Sir has to reluctantly come to terms with this.
The decision was ultimately mine, but as a submissive, it didn't really feel like I had a decision at all; I know what Sir wanted and pleasing him is my primary desire in life. So I very begrudgingly chose option 1.
Now before you go casting stones at either of us, please understand that I do not regret my choice and Sir was very clear that our relationship would continue regardless of my choice. I also did not want to keep my thoughts to myself out of brattiness or to keep secrets, I just view it as the most basic human right (even those captured and forced into bondage get to keep that one thing).
So here we are today. I'm learning to accept that I officially have nothing left of myself, every single thing I have and am belongs to Sir. There is freedom in this kind of submission, but it is also terrifying.
Tell me about your dynamics. Do your thoughts belong to you? Would/could you give up that right? How hard was the transition when you did? Do you have any regrets? Do you have any advice for either of us?
Besides the obvious sadomasochistic bedroom play, giving rules, making orders, and creating routines, there are many “Dominant” things Sir does in our day to day lives that make my submissive heart melt and my thighs quiver. Because our dynamic is so diverse, these things range from traits of a Master to those of a Caregiver. Here a some that come to mind:
1. Holds my wrist rather than my hand
2. Puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me in the direction he wants me to go
3. Grabs my ponytail and pulls me back when I start to walk away without his consent
4. Loops his finger in my collar to pull me closer for a kiss or to bite my neck
5. Sits on the edge of the couch or bed and pats his thigh for me to crawl to him
6. Pulls me along behind him when leading me somewhere (through stores, restaurants, etc.)
7. Pets my head
8. Orders my food at restaurants
9. Tells me at least once every day that I am his
10. Angles my head by hooking his thumb under my jaw line
11. Calls me HIS slut, HIS whore, HIS favorite plaything, HIS pet
12. Smirks at my pouts and whimpers
13. Opens my door
14. Talks about me to others in front of me, the same as if I weren’t there
15. Gives my cheek a little slap when I say something sassy (mostly playful but with a tiny hint of a warning)
16. Buckles my seat belt
17. Tells me to go to bed
18. Smokes cigars and drinks Old Fashioneds
19. Roles his sleeves up to his forearms
20. Brings me my stuffies when he senses I need one to cuddle
The list is endless. Being a Sir, my Sir, is just who he is. It exudes from his pores. And I’m the lucky kitten who gets to call him mine.
Waiting patiently in the airport for the plane ✈️ that’s going to take me to my Sir 👨🏼 💕. Taking this opportunity to enjoy some Bugles fingernails, a strawberry ring pop, and The Office on Netflix.
It’s been a long hectic week and I am ready to be “home” so I can recenter. Sir has this way of making me forget every problem and every fear with merely his presence. This airplane can’t get here soon enough.
I've recently discovered the amazing work of Chiara Bautista. Her dark, mysterious, and poetic illustrations speak to me on a level most would find weird. The collection that stopped me in my tracks is the star wolf and the bunny girl. They were such a shockingly accurate reflection of Sir and I that I became immediately obsessed with finding and ogling every sketch in the collection.
Some images (not posted here) explain that the star wolf is the night sky and the bunny girl is the moon. One night, the moon fell from the sky and the star wolf went to hunt for her. But when he found her, he decided that he had to keep her for himself despite the universe's call to bring her back.
Make no mistake about it, long distance relationships are hard. Brutal even. But are they worth it?
In the day and age of social media, entire lives are portrayed with a snapchat filter and short clever caption. However, by the age of 21 or so, you start to realize that real life isn’t the singular moments you see when scrolling through your Instagram feed. Real life is dead end jobs, sweat pants, messy hair buns, a never ending stack of bills, and fighting over who put the empty ice cube tray back in the freezer.
I spend most of my blog posts recounting the happy, fun, passionate, and sexy times of mine and Sir’s relationship. Because when we’re together, that’s what it is; happy, fun, passionate, and sexy. But that’s two days a week, what about the five we spend alone? Those five days are just as much a part of our reality. So I want to talk about that today. What does our relationship look like without the weekend filter?
Five days a week we wake up alone, we go to bed alone, we go to work and come home to an empty house, we eat dinner across from an empty seat, we sit alone of the couch reading or watching tv, we pay our own bills and make our own plans and have our own friends and we just… survive.
In D/s relationships this is exceptionally difficult. I need daily guidance and affirmations in order to thrive and Sir needs to lead and care for his kitten in order to feel content. We both thirst for physical touch and we both worry… well, honestly we worry about me and if I’m going to have some kind of panic attack or breakdown on my own someday without his calming presence to center me.
Each week we get the glorious feeling of being reunited with our soul’s counterpoint. We get the feeling of coming home, of walking into the arms of the one person we know loves us more than any other. But every week we also have to say goodbye. We have to walk away from our other half over and over again, knowing that we’ll continue to do it over and over again in the future.
Then there’s the financial hardship of travel. We’re lucky enough that we’re both in a place to be able to shoulder the burden of weekly travel expenses. But make no mistake, the cost of weekly flights, gas to and from the airport, and the price of extended airport parking amounts to a small monthly fortune. We could pay a mortgage and electric bill with our combined monthly travel expenses.
Since long distance isn’t always easy, there’s the added worry that one day the other will just say they’ve had enough, that they can’t keep half-living like this, that the sacrifice will become greater than the reward. We both worry that our relationship will become a stifling burden to the other and we’ll be left devastated but not really confused by their decision to end it.
That leads us to the hardest part of any long distance relationship - deciding how it ends. Do you plan to be long distance indefinitely? If not, one of you has to sacrifice to close the gap. One of you has to quit your job, sell your home/end your lease, leave your family and friends, pack up all of your belongings, and trek across state lines where you’re left to start over while the other person gets to keep their job, house, friends, with virtually no sacrifice at all. Can this kind of sacrifice even be made without eventual resentment? Can a person who truly loves their partner and wants the best for them expect their partner to give up so much? At what point do you put your partner above your relationship and say “no, I can’t let you sacrifice so much for me, for us?” Or do you allow them to make that sacrifice and spend the rest of your life trying to make it worth it for them? None of these answers are easy, but they have to be asked of each other and they have to be answered. It’s the only way to know where the relationship is going. Is there a light at the end of the tunnel or are you just going to ride it out and enjoy it while it lasts?
For Sir and I the end result has always been us living together. But it doesn’t mean the journey is now or will always be easy. In fact, it hasn’t and it won’t be. But it has been beautiful. It’s been full of love and light. It’s been full of promises made and kept. Full of laughter and bittersweet tears. It has been the single best thing that has ever and will ever happen to me.
Long distance relationships aren’t easy. They’re hard. They’re full of sacrifices and lonely nights. They require more work and energy to stay connected than a regular relationship. They require scheduled time to sit and FaceTime or chat on the phone. They require open and honest communication to avoid jealousy and misunderstandings. They require all of the effort a regular relationship requires but with double the effort and without the reward of their presence.
But when you find the one, your ONE, there isn’t a mile you wouldn’t cross, a sacrifice you wouldn’t make to be next to that person.
