Kinky Kollege


Kinky Kollege…I have been hearing about it for months. I bought my ticket and reserved my room, but I was petrified. No matter how much everyone tries to prepare you for what to expect, you just can’t comprehend what it really feels like to attend until you experience it for yourself.

I am an unowned submissive and I was going to Kinky Kollege alone. Well, not truly alone because I had my bestie, my protector and many other friends that I have met in this incredible community. I did not have a Dominant…it wasn’t about not having someone to play with though. It was about me feeling like I needed someone to lead me through this experience. Someone to make me step outside that comfort zone and truly be my unguarded self. I wanted to be me, and I was worried that if I did not have someone to push me, I probably wouldn’t allow myself to be vulnerable.

My bestie and my protector are amazing. Through their encouragement, I put on the corset and skirt that I bought for the weekend, took a deep breath, and went into the dungeon. It was the second scariest thing that I have ever done. Of course, at the time, I thought it was the absolutely scariest and overwhelming thing ever…but it wasn’t. I felt liberated. I enjoyed being me. I felt safe, confident, happy and me.

I had the opportunity to play that first night with an amazing Dominant friend. He made me feel safe and gave me the opportunity to experience playtime in the Kinky Kollege dungeon. I had so much fun and I finished the night feeling stronger and more confident than when I arrived. I shakily walked away from that session with some beautiful bruises that continue to develop even today. Saturday was filled with spending time with friends at the many classes that were offered and going to Tapas, where I had the opportunity to be tied up and confined in Shibari ropes. I loved it…so…much. I NEED more of that in my life. I took a bondage class and learned a little bit about self-ties, so I bought some pretty rope to play with and look forward to enjoying more in the future.

Saturday night came with more anticipation and excitement than Friday night. Friday I was panicked about walking into the dungeon in my corset, a sheer skirt and breasts exposed. Saturday…not at all. I was where I belonged. I was confident. I was happy. I had the opportunity and pleasure to play with another wonderful Dominant friend. As excited as I was to play…I was shaking and nervous. This was easily the most difficult thing I have ever done…so much harder than entering the dungeon on Friday…removing my corset…and then my skirt and standing in front of that St Andrews Cross. Exposed to the crowded dungeon in nothing but a thong…restrained, flogged and free. I let go of all of my stress, all of my insecurities, and all of my care about anything that doesn’t truly matter. I was me…and I was happy.

I was worried about going to Kinky Kollege without the security of a Dominant to lead me. In the end, I am so happy that I went alone. I found out just how strong…how resilient I really am. I have social anxiety…I am very nervous going to strange places alone, not knowing what to expect when I arrive. It is a battle that I fight frequently. This weekend, I drove to a hotel and checked into my room alone. I stepped out of that hotel room wearing clothing that made me feel good but that I did not think I would have the courage to leave my room wearing. A day later I found myself removing it in a crowded dungeon, not because I was ordered to, but because I wanted to. I wanted to be me. I wanted to prove to myself that I was strong enough to be who I am and with the encouragement and love from the most amazing kinky friends. I had the best weekend ever. 

Thank you to all my favorite people, for the hugs, the encouragement, the support and, of course, the floggings, spankings, dragontail whipping and orgasms! 

I can’t wait until next time!!

The Break-Up


I woke up alone this morning for the first time in months. Interestingly, it is also the first time in months that I also woke with a smile, well rested and content. 

Break-ups suck. I’m not going to say that I am happy that this relationship ended. I cried. I felt horrible and I worried about my decision-making and if it was the right one. I truly thought that we had something real and that it would last like he promised. How can you care so much about someone, miss them when they aren’t there, but be miserable when you are face to face and interacting? I remember days coming home from work, looking forward to seeing him, just to be faced with comments and conversation that made me feel bad and sad. It would ruin the evening and all I wanted to do was curl up with my blanket and go to sleep. Was it intentional or just a personality clash? I will never know for sure. 

The mind is a fascinating thing to me. It is easily manipulated and fooled. We see red flags, our gut tells us that something isn’t right, but we ignore that sixth sense and convince ourselves that we are paranoid, that we are sabotaging our own relationships. We believe that we will regret leaving when we see what we walked away from. It is in that moment that the strong and resilient take note and examine those red flags, realizing that life will go on if we take control of ourselves again. 

There is a name for this…it’s called gaslighting and it is a form of psychological abuse when it is done deliberately. This type of manipulation is used to make you trust this person while doubting your own perceptions of sanity. You feel guilty for doubting this person that you trust. They justify and explain their actions differently than you remember the situation occurring and then fill your head with expressions of love and flattery to confuse and reason away any discrepancies in the story being told. You are reassured, then you doubt yourself, ignore your gut and become more confused. 

I have gone through this cycle more times that I can count in the past 6 weeks. As a nurse, I would have recognized it quickly if I watched a friend in this cycle. It’s interesting that you can’t see it when you are in it though. How can I be so happy after we are out with our friends, then get in the car and start talking about something fun that happened just to have my words twisted into something that was never intended? How can I go from being so happy to being made to feel so broken inside? Why does he keep doing this to me? My Dom is supposed to help me feel strong, to build me up, not to tear me down and feel small. Why do I have to try to be so careful about how I tell a story? I started building a wall to protect myself and then he would be angry that I am now pushing him away by being quiet. I can’t win.

Maybe he was just ego-centric and doesn’t realize the spiral he is placing me in…or maybe he is a narcissist who enjoys breaking me down so he can convince himself that he is the good guy there to rescue me over and over again. Funny that I didn’t need rescuing before I met him. In the end, it really doesn’t matter. He could just be a dumb guy that has no idea how his words hurt me. 

Regardless of the motives, no matter how much communication of my feelings and why I feel bad occurred, nothing was changing. It was getting worse instead of better. For my mental health, I needed to end the cycle.  What I know is that I am a genuinely happy person with a pretty stressful life. The last 6 weeks have been anything but happy for me. I blamed it on the end of summer, changes in work, family stresses; everything but what was looming over me. It took having a good friend ask me if was happy. What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m happy! It made me think though…I realized that he saw something that I didn’t see. I was not truly happy. I was actually quite miserable. I needed to fix it for me and for my kids. 

Yesterday was that day. With the help of my bestie and my protector, I survived the day of him moving all of his things out of my house. I saw then and again today that I made the right decision. Tonight, it is all over…life moves on like it always does. I walk about my house and see that there is nothing left of him here. My bedroom is neat and orderly again. My kitchen is back to the way I like it with my dishes back in the cabinets where they belong. I took control of my home back and we are all happy again. There is silence. It is peaceful. I feel content. 

As I close my thoughts, I have tears in my eyes as I think of all the fun we had. Great memories were made in the first few months we were together. I don’t know why things changed. I truly wish they didn’t. I want to be that happy girl again. I miss him. I miss the companionship.  I have grown. I won’t settle. I have learned from the experience. I will wake tomorrow stronger. 

I am a playful and happy girl that just wants everyone to get along.

I was timid. 

I am now resilient. 

Don’t fuck with me. 

The Collar


I was scared. Fearing the unknown. I knew we were going to play later that night, but this felt different. His energy was different. I couldn’t grasp what it was that created my anxiety. I trust him. I follow him. I love him. I have no reason to fear him. What I needed was for him to reassure me, but he left the house and vanished for most of the afternoon, leaving me alone with my thoughts. What he didn’t know was that my stress built exponentially without his reassurance. What I didn’t know was that he spent the day planning his evening with me. Alone with my thoughts, which became stress and anger by the time he returned home. Stress and anxiety for the unknown. Anger because he wasn’t there to save me from myself. He arrived just in time for a quick shower and then out the door we went for whatever awaited me. We are a couple that is still learning our way in this relationship. We have a wonderful Leader/follower relationship but incorporating some of the D/s has been a learning experience. I had no idea just how much learning I was about to do.

            The ride to our friends’ home was mostly in silence. I was scared and upset. I couldn’t verbalize what was bothering me. I knew he had wanted me to wear a dress, but I chose not to, putting it in my bag to bring with instead. He didn’t say a word or question my clothing choice before we left or on the ride over. He waited until we were with friends to question my choices. Now I had an audience. I was embarrassed and angry…more than I was when I walked through the door. Questioning me about my decisions. I was pissed so I grabbed my bag and slammed the bathroom door when I went to go change into the damned dress. Why is that so damn important? WTF. When I came back and sat down on the couch, I just glared at him. I couldn’t speak. Tears just rolled down my face. I was questioned about why I was fighting him, but I couldn’t fully explain my thoughts. They were all floating around above my head, and I struggled to make sense of them. 

            I cried. A lot. I was out of control and needed to be put back together again. I didn’t know how and that scared me because I am usually in good control of myself. Not tonight. Not even close. I was then given a task. I was told to set the table and prepare for our meal with a friend while he and the homeowner went outside to the grill. I was distracted with my task, setting the table the way he likes, talking with a fellow submissive. I found myself feeling more like myself. Laughing even. We enjoyed a nice meal together, had wonderful conversation and my anxiety eased. The tension in the room lifted and I could breathe. I kept myself busy, cleaning up the dishes while the conversation continued. Then it was decided that we would go back to the living room. 

I felt tense and nervous again…the unknown had arrived. Part of me was relieved. I just wanted to get it over with. Survive whatever they had in store for me. In the room was a Sadist and my loving, sensual Dominant with a definite sadistic side and a fellow submissive who gave me encouragement. A spanking bench was carried into the living room. It was at that moment that I had a realization that I was going to be playing with an audience. I am shy. Modest. Some would argue the shy part but that is mainly because I survive the crippling shyness by using my humor and wit to mask it as best I can. It is always there though. It’s like a dark shadow that is always reminding me that someone is watching, listening and judging everything I say and do. It is a constant battle to ignore the shadow, to tell it to fuck off…that I don’t care what others think. The truth is that I do care. I wish I didn’t. The mere idea of being watched and critiqued (at least in my mind) was horrifying. That’s when the panic happened.

My Leader stood up in front of me, took my hand and instructed me to stand. My hands were shaking, I looked up at him with a quivering voice and tears in my eyes. Looking around the room, there were eyes on me, a bench I knew I would eventually be kneeling on, but not a single toy. What was he doing? He wasn’t giving me any clues at all. I was petrified. I was looking him in the eye and I know he saw my fear. He was kind, loving and reassuring. Then he was talking and I was barely comprehending his words until I finally put together the words and black piece of leather in his hand. It was a collar. It was pretty, elegant even with a pink heart hanging from it. My name was on one side and he tried to get me to read the other side but my eyes couldn’t focus on the tiny letters. Even now, I couldn’t say the exact words, but I know it said that I belonged to him. It was unexpected and my head was spinning. My breathing increased. I could feel my heart racing. He slowly put the collar on me, while calmly speaking to me in words that I don’t remember. My only memory is that he was reassuring me that he loved me and that he was going to take care of me…that I was safe. He attached a leash to the collar…I remember it being thin black leather with sparkles…clear stones maybe. It is a blur because he then told me that when I wear the collar I had to sit on the floor. I cried. Again. He hugged me and then lowered me to the ground. That’s when I fell apart. I sat on the floor, curled up inside myself, and buried my face into my arms on the couch now above me. I was being asked what I was feeling from across the room. I was being asked to put words to my feelings and emotion, but I couldn’t. I was overwhelmed. I was someone different. I was someone that I didn’t know. I have met her before, a long time ago but I have fought to be strong since that time. The submissive that was in control of herself. Unbreakable. There I sat, crying and broken. It wasn’t until I was riding home hours later that I was able to comprehend my feelings in that moment. It was me recognizing that I was, in fact, under his control at that moment. No more arguing. No more holding onto the anger that had me fired up earlier. I had fully submitted myself to him. I was his. Everything changed in an instant, with a small piece of leather and a shiny buckle. It was humbling and overwhelming.

My breathing slowly calmed, and I was able to slowly grasp time and place again. I felt his hand on my back, reassuring me that everything was going to be ok. He helped me stand on my shaking legs and he hugged me, further reassurance that I was safe. Then…a blindfold. OMG. WTF. Just seeing it in his hand…I vaguely remember hearing him say that I needed to wear it. I was petrified. Panic again…I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking…crying…I didn’t understand why that was needed. He held me…consoled me…then as I calmed, I knew it wasn’t negotiable. I was going to be wearing that blindfold. I agreed to let him place it over my eyes. He gently put it in place and then my world went dark. He whispered in my ear that I needed to take off my dress. Panic again…was this the third time? I always thought of myself as a strong person. Resilient. Fierce. Now, I felt weak and pathetic. We weren’t alone. The idea of him taking my dress from me now…making me walk across the room without it. It was a vulnerability and exposure I couldn’t mentally handle. He held me again…full panic…shaking head to toe and crying…again. He didn’t push. He knew it was too much. He said it could wait…and instead slowly walked me to the bench. He helped me to slowly kneel on the bench and instead of removing the dress, he lifted it, leaving me exposed as he walked about the room, preparing whatever it was that he had in store for me. It felt like an eternity. Kneeling in the dark…feeling exposed…feeling the eyes that may or may not have been on me. Listening to him bustling around the room arranging his tools for the evening. 

He slowly started touching me, gently. I felt my dress being raised higher, exposing my back. He was gentle and kind. I relaxed. He slowly put it up over my head and it was gone. The last bit of control that I had left was taken. I was there, in a friends’ living room, exposed and fully under his control. I don’t know how much time elapsed. I know that he was sensual, made me drift off to the light flogging and touching with various textures. I was relaxed. He roused me to make sure I was ready to escalate and I said yes. His tempo increased, and so did the power behind the strikes. I could feel the intensity increase, I could feel the pain but it wasn’t pain. It hurt so good. I couldn’t tell what implements he was using…I noticed a paddle of some sort, a flogger, and something that reminded me of the texture of a witches broom. It was stingy and I loved it. Then the flogger again…it hurt and it massaged and I loved every minute. I laughed and apparently was smiling…and then the intensity and pain increased bringing me close to that edge. Then he slowly calmed me, noting that I was bruised enough, an accidental small break to the skin that I didn’t even feel. It was time to bring me down. My breathing calmed. He helped me recover and then brought me slowly, on shaking legs, back to my place on the floor. I curled into him as he laid out a picnic or sorts on the floor in front of me. He truly thought of everything. I sat there, breasts exposed to the room, with my dress sitting in my lap. I no longer cared. I survived. It was safe. I made him proud. The collar that created stress and panic, now felt like it belonged. The feel of the leash hanging from it and resting on the skin between my breasts felt like a security blanket. When it was time to get dressed and go home, he removed that leather collar and instead of being relieved, I felt like something was missing. I was me again. The strong, resilient girl that I was earlier that day, but I know that I am so much more now. There was a lot to process. The ride home was wonderful, we talked about the evening and my thoughts about everything. The night once home was amazing as well…but I’ll keep that part to myself 

Who am I?


Journaling is one of those things that are born as a resolution for me but I never have time to fulfill the plan. It’s a great therapeutic idea, in theory, but how will it help? I think it’s because I know I will never find the time to go back to read what I have written. I wrote it. I already know what it says! What is the point of writing it then?

Today, I have so many thoughts fluttering through my head. The past 5 weeks have been incredible. They have been filled with reflection and I now have so much clarity about myself and what I want and need in the future. I was faced with a challenge, told that I needed to define who I am while essentially questioning my strength. I had some who I thought were my friends turn on a dime and suggest that I am not the follower and submissive that I claim to be. I was broken and devastated. What they did not know was that I have so much more strength than they were aware of. I have been broken and devastated before, but after I process the situation and think over the events and discussions, I ALWAYS come out stronger and smarter than I was before. I refuse to be manipulated or made to feel as though I am less than I am. I stand with my head up high. I am fierce. I am kind. I am smart. I am a leader. I am a follower. I am loved. I am PERFECT. Anyone who finds their own strength in tearing me or anyone else down is weak and foolish for thinking that it will be tolerated. 

The profound moment I had was the self-realization that I can be every bit as driven and strong while being a true partner and follower in a D/s relationship. I have a timid personality that I use humor and overall silliness to mask when I feel nervous. I am a bottom when I play because I have been forced to live a dominant vanilla life and need to submit that control to my trusted Dominant, which is why I prefer to be a submissive as a role and quite possibly a slave as the relationship progresses. I am a very strong follower who has strong opinions and isn’t afraid to share them but who also trusts her Dominant to listen and consider her concerns while he makes his decision. I have also thought good and long about what I need as a submissive/follower. I need a Dominant/Leader who does not try to control me by making me feel small in order to make himself feel bigger and stronger. I do not have an interest in building inflated egos. I need a confident leader who is not intimidated by my strength, one who sees the possibilities and encourages my strong, independent thinking and personal growth. A good Dominant is not one who rules by intimidation and threats of punishment. A good Dominant is one who can inspire his/her submissive by empowering them to be the best they can be without making them feel broken in the process. Anyone can learn to be a top, to use implements to cause pain. I cannot respect bullies. The true Dominant to me is the one who can lead their follower because they have connected and have a mutual trust in each other.

In the end, I am a true believer that everything happens for a reason. The good things are gifts. The bad things become life lessons that make me who I am and create additional strength and clarity. I wouldn’t change a thing. I am in love with an incredibly giving and strong Dominant, who has my health, happiness and strength as priorities for my role; he has earned my Respect and I will follow him anywhere he leads me. I am happy. I am strong. I am loved. What else is there?