The pain journal:

Let me make this brief. I was without a place after my Dom abandoned me, and so I stayed at a coworker’s place who quickly became my play partner and lover. This is a mistake as I was relying on him for shelter. It was brief and beautiful and as soon as I found a place of my own it was over. Then I was alone for some time having an overall glorious time. I made new friends and spent a lot of time lazing about in my artsy little studio drinking tea and talking about Love with new loved ones.

Meanwhile I was playing with the boi occasionally and he served as my Dom, but only during scene and not 24/7. The play was better than ever as there was no love to distract us from our goals. No sympathy got in his way when he administered pain, and I felt as if I were floating around in a strange headspace, drugged up on my body’s own pain killers. A very strange and dreamy time. I could not care for him again and he became only a Dom and not a lover.

I received an acceptance letter from a company in Japan, and so I prepared for the move. Meanwhile I took on a new lover rather inconveniently. The new lover is not a Dom. He is not sadistic. He is a gentle soul without a cruel streak and yet I still find him thrilling. I never thought I could be with someone who wasn’t sadistic, but I found there are other ways of reaching such ecstatic heights or depths if you’d rather. Dearest slaves and pets, I deeply respect your lifestyle. I am not one of you anymore, not a slave, not a pet.

I am in Japan now, and life is beautiful. The gentleman will be coming soon. I eagerly wait his arrival.

I ended up falling fast into a new relationship. And it ended just as fast. I am starting to see serious knots in my psyche, in my soul. I am tired of running to men for shelter. I've been so afraid to think or feel that I'd do anything short of killing myself. I am not going to run away from myself anymore. I am going to begin moving in, facing the void and filling it.

My masochism left me for a short while suffering through the doldrums of life. Everything seemed to be painfully unaesthetic. The city was looking ugly to me. The litter, transients, and raging schizophrenics seemed so poorly colored. My life was looking hopelessly stagnant. I was in one of my troughs. I have come to learn to accept and ride them out as they come. I know I wasn’t exciting in bed or even wanting to go to bed with my lover, but I thought he’d wait it out and ride it out with me.

I spent one long night awake in bed worrying about my lover whether he was dead. When I found out he was alive, I was so overjoyed unfaithfulness seemed to be a minor infraction. I brought him a pink rose, hugged him, called him my darling, tried to kiss him but he wouldn’t have me. He told me he preferred her. That he didn’t love me the same way he used to, that he loved me differently. I suppose he meant that his body didn’t shiver at my touch, and he did not feel a fountain of exploding butterflies in his chest anymore. And I suppose he cares, for the sake of his own self-indulgent conscience, whether I am dead or alive and in this way he loves me. I suppose he expects me to slit my wrists and send him the photos or something equally crazy. Honestly that is what I expected out of myself. But no such insanity has ensued. Instead I feel strong. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed to be alone. I was forgetting myself.

I am glad that I loved longer. It is easier that way. I am comfortable with being unrequited. It just feels right. Loving makes you human whether or not it’s returned. And even though I don’t have him, I have had so many other arms holding me that I can’t feel alone. In fact, strange as it seems, I have never felt so loved.

Pet was abandoned. Now she has no home.

I hate feeling claustrophobic. I’ve been raised to feel trapped by words like “Christian” and now I even feel trapped such formless supposedly liberating terms such as “bisexual,” “switch,” and “kink”—noncommittal words that are supposed to make one feel free. I swear. I could be naked and alone in the middle of a field, and I still would feel trapped.

But…

Just because I have a vagina it doesn’t mean I’m feminine. Also, Just because I don’t often wear make up or a dress doesn’t mean my right to femininity is dissolving.

If my boyfriend wants to wear makeup it doesn’t make him a closeted gay. (Yes! Bisexual men exist!)

And no! Being a bisexual does not mean you are looking for threesomes.

I don’t have to like or agree with everything in the BDSM community in order to consider myself sexually liberated.

I can delete any one of those four letters, and I can add any friggin’ letters I want. For example I like BMTFQR.

I thought about deleting this journal today. It’s not really serving the purpose I intended. I wanted to connect to the BDSM community, and learn more about this kind of kink and ultimately better my sex life. I also secretly intended to tell my partner everything I can’t say to his face via journal. This is too much to expect from a blog. Anyway, as it turns out I am much more guarded when I write. I’m much more honest in person especially when I’ve had a few drinks and am suffering from sleep deprivation. Ah yes, words come out then that I never even knew were floating around in my subconscious. It’s like dreaming.

I can’t create the persona I want. I don’t want to be a slave. I don’t want to be a pet. Never-the-less I am drawn to pet/slave type journals and information. It is this lifestyle that interests me most, and yet I DON’T WANT IT! I don’t want to lose myself. I read and try to relate, and I can relate but I don’t feel the joyful side of submission only the angst. I would like to be more dominating, but I don’t like how most women dominate men. It’s the subtleties that I don’t like. I want to be a gentleman, the knight in shining armor. I want someone to sink into my arms, trusting me, and I want to trust myself. I want to be the solid strength. I wanted to be grounded enough so that I can blindfold him, and he will not cringe because he knows I would never make a mistake. I want to be all-powerful. I want control.

And when I sub, I don’t like cringing and whining. One can submit with strength, without humiliation. There is a certain masculinity in just gritting your teeth and taking it (like a man). Plus, I often feel this push-pull of power when we play well. It’s like playing a chess game. Sure I lose most of the time, but sometimes I don’t. I can compete, and I like that about myself. It’s important for me to remember that it’s just a game and should always be fun. I don’t ever want to take this too seriously.

Disclaimer! I know, I know for many of you kinksters this is a very serious lifestyle with set dynamics that work well for you. I am not judging you. If it works, it works. I am not saying this is how it should be for everyone. I am speaking merely for myself here. This is what I need—not to submit when I’m being topped, not to be cruel when I’m topping. Maybe I don't feel comfortable because I am also gender-queer. Where are all the gender-queer switches? I guess that's a little too specific to ask for.

Ah, man. I am feeling so pain-horny after watching Kaya’s boob nailing video. I really having to go to bed soon or I’m going to be dealing with sleep deprivation tomorrow. I work on a boat, and I have to get up before the [ass]crack of dawn. You know that sensuous feeling you get when you are so tired every nerve is overworking itself, and a soft breeze, a soft sound, or just being still feels unbearably pleasurable? Or maybe that’s just me. Well, anyway, at least I have that to look forward to. God, I love my job.

So me and my partner finally dipped our dirty little hands into the world of humiliation, my humiliation more specifically. This is something I had decided a long time ago would be unhealthy for me, this being made to feel like shit in bed. But it is oh-so-addictive and satisfying to be called nasty names "slutty little bitch" and such. I know even vanilla couples do this. God, I'm such a prude about somethings. For kicks he called my a "fat cow" in front of my friends when we all went out for drinks the other night. It some a sort of exhibitionist humiliation and I liked that too although I worry about my friends thinking he's truly an asshole.

So I looked at 28 pages of vintage spanking, most Betty Page. I love the shape of vintage models. They seem to have been able to put on fat like greek goddesses back then. For some reason their curves seemed to be shaped differently.

I go my first official spanking since the boy's return. With a hairbrush, a hand, and then the bamboo. I had pretty marks, and was well satisfied to be back into the old spankity spank again. Also, another fun thing are dish gloves--those heavy yellow ones with ridges. The chemicals made my vagina burn after, but it was worth it and the burning went away in a day or so. Being spanked with those almost made me cry.

So here's the issue. My s.o. is allergic to latex, but latex condoms have been our primary means of birth control in the past. It was working out nicely for me, but he would feel itchy and uncomfortable if he left the condom on too long after sex or if we had sex several times in one day. I've tried hormonal birth control twice. But I can only last for about a month of that stuff before giving it up. It reduces my libido down to zero. Also, it makes it hard for me to get wet. And it causes spotting. I just don't like the idea of putting hormones in my body anyway. I am thinking about an alternative--ParaGard T 380A. It is a copper Intrauterine Device. The copper is the contraceptive, not hormones. The side effects are a heavier menstrual cycle and it is easier to catch an STD if you have multiple sex partners. I'm monogaomous, so I'm not worried about that. I am not excited about having heavier periods (with more cramping). Damn it! I know there are polyurethane condoms, but I don't trust those because of breakage. I would end up having to take Plan B a lot after every break and that I know is bad for my body. Sometimes I wish I was naturally sterile. If anyone has an IUD, please tell me if it has worked for you.