Posted by caprycorn on Sat 20 Oct 07, 4:25 PM to caprycorn's blog.
Been a domestic goddess today (made a chicken pie from scratch although we won't find out if it's actually edible until dinnertime). A real domestic goddess would have made the puff pastry from scratch and not cheated with jus-rol. But if it's good enough for nigella aka the most annoying woman in the world then it's good enough for me. And I have a desire to beat nigella severely and not in a nice way. Although I'd enjoy it.
I say things like that a lot. Beat them and not in a nice way. Bite them and not in a nice way. Except when it came down to it, I don't think that I could be that violent. I know that I have a capacity for violence in that I haven't shied from it in the past when it's a case of me or someone else. Trust me, in that situation it's always going to be them. But unprovoked, unnecessary violence in the abuse scale... no, don't think so.
I've come close, in that I have wanted to HURT someone before now, someone who was trusting me not to cross that line. That's one reason why I am very cautious about playing with men. It's not that I don't want to or don't like the thought. It's more that the last time I did it, it provoked all sorts of nasty feelings including wanting to hurt this man far and beyond what he was into. Playing when filled with anger or pain or resentment is not a Good Thing.
I realised how far I'd come from that negative state when watching the dross that is Belle du Jour on tv or whatever the hell it's called. The book was annoying enough; the tv series is much worse. I tuned in because it promised S and m, and I wanted to see what they made of it. Not a lot... but then how can you explain such a complex subject in half an hour? You can't. What made me profoundly uncomfortable (so much so that I ended curled up prawnlike and foetal behind a cushion) was when Billiebelle ignored the safeword and proceeded to carry on lashing at the man in question. Actually seeing her supposedly exorcising her anger on him even before he safeworded made me cringe. But having him having to say red four times sent me diving behind the safety blanket of the throw cushion. Not good.
At one point I would have nodded grimly and thought, if not quite so what, well at least she stopped. Now it horrifies me, the thought of disregarding something like that because of being wrapped up in a negative emotional state, of having so little regard for the person on the other end of the cane. Of not delighting in the connection between us, of not revelling in their pain rather than it being a vent for my own needs. So perhaps I'm not quite so bad as once I thought.
The funny thing is, it's not like Lucky dictates play because she doesn't. Far from it. I know where her comfort limits are, and also harder limits. And whilst I don't callously disregard them, I'll certainly push her harder than she may choose for herself if she had such a choice. Not that she does have such a choice because she doesn't have a safeword. She trusts us to read her, to know the difference between her struggling to take something we give her and her really being in trouble. Because there is a difference, a rather profound one too.
I don't gauge myself quite so closely as once I did because I know more that I might hurt her but won't harm her. She loves being hurt after all. She's made for it. And I love hurting her but know that I won't go too far. There's just so much more that I want to do though. So very much. Sometimes I almost lose my impetus ... and then I find it all over again, which is what is happening at the moment.
We don't tend to play when SherbetFace is in the house, so Lucky is safe from my untender mercies for a few days, sadly. But her time will come. As will she.
I still have a hankering to learn suturing. There's more than a few scenes that I want to carry out. Stiching things too her. Stitching her. Labia. Nipples. Also needles too, a needle corset down her spine. There's a beautiful photograph out there of a woman with a corset of cord threaded through rings either side of her spine. I'd like to do something similar to herself with suturing the rings to her back. And feathers too at some point to make wings on back, shoulders, arms. So much to do, so little time.
I will speak to J this week, to ask about something I'd like to do to her next weekend which will involve all three of us and a great deal of her pain. I'm sure he won't object. And I know she won't because it will push her but not shatter her. She likes it when I push her hard; it takes her many hours to safely come back to earth when it's done just right - hard, relentless and more than she would ever choose for herself, which is exactly how I want to do it.
If mercy is the ability to stop, I'll have to be the dame sans merci for more than a few hours. Nothing wrong with that either; it'll be something for J and I to look forward to and her to anticipate with stomach churning dread and excitement. Happy thought.
And the pie is now cooked, and looks perfect. Multi talented (and so modest) that's me. Still not tasted it which is why I'm not claiming goddesshood quite yet but if it tastes as good as it looks then nigella better watch it - her days are definitely numbered.
Edited Sat 20 Oct 07, 5:32 PM by caprycorn
