Wounds

At the first step I knew I could not make the first mile, let alone the second I had promised you. Every part of me ached, my lungs were gasping for air. Michael tried to coach me through it, trying to get me to breathe in a rhythm but it just wasn’t working. I barked at him to run ahead hoping that I could focus on running. It wasn’t working. I took my glasses off, blind to the world but it wasn’t there yet. Yeah I tried picturing you waiting naked for me and it helped but nothing was working. Suddenly I felt you over my shoulder, slung over it, I was carrying you. My breathing began to fall into a rhythm, my stride became more even. I would carry you my love. I was taking you to safety, I would not stop. The blocks fell away, I ran and ran, mile one had come and gone but mile two was getting harder but I was determined not to fail. Each step became harder, the pain grew but I would not stop. I began to see myself as a Scottish warrior carrying his lass to safety but somehow that didn’t feel right although I had no idea what right was. Then a Trojan with his woman, unwilling to bend his knee to the Persians but again it felt wrong. Oddly a Gorean popped into my head but I heard you laughing and then I knew. My heart leapt, my energy surged, as my amour, OUR armor suddenly surrounded me and I ran past the two mile mark. I was running on willpower now, nothing else, I would run three miles or die trying. Arrows pierced my body, the wounded warrior refusing to die till his love was safe, I would not stop. I ran on, my body screaming at me to stop, my knees aching, my muscles in agony, but one step after another I moved you closer to where I needed to take you. I had visions of ripping those arrows out of me, refusing to have English arrows touch my flesh and I realized those arrows were not English but life, all the wounds I had born that have prevented me from crossing that finish line but I had crossed it a mile ago for I had run three miles with you slung fully clothed over my shoulder.

Thank you Lisa for being the amazing incredible woman you are.

I don't write poetry but...

Be Still My Heart
Stolen words for a stolen woman
Unsigned papers
Naked Neck

I see her for the first time
Music plays as she struts into my life
Is that music I hear or my heart?

I fake it
Heat Lust
Thrust against a bus
Heat Lust
Lust or Love?
Thrills or Needs?
Could she be? Would she be?
I want, does she?

Is there a Tomorrow?
Tomorrow come and stays
Her neck less naked
Words less stolen
I start to see her for the first time

Bits of the future
Mine – Hers
Perhaps
Perhaps one day ours

A posting in response to a thread on www.collarme.com

You can't beat someone into being a good submissive. You have to make them CRAVE being good FOR you NOT by making them fear failing. It is a long slow process, one that isn't a good mask for a lack of patience and or anger issues which is why many love punishing.

Love, caring, patience, and vigilant attention, as well as an understanding of when they are trying are all crucial skills in forming and guiding someone to a better deeper sense of submission. My lady often thinks she has slipped something by me but I mention it sometimes days later with a touch of disappointment and it does several things. She knows that she is the center of my attention, that I am watching over her, that sense of security allows her to relax into me and let go of her need to control. She feels my love and caring for her in how I deal with the mistakes and errors she makes. I praise her when she does well and again, I try and praise her for things either she didn't notice she did better or things she might think I didn't notice. Again, all playing back into ensuring she has a sense of my omnipotence in her life which provides security, safety, love, attention, all things submissives tend to feed on.

I have been harsh with her once, I didn't touch her or scold her, I simply cut off every means of contacting me. Turned out it was a mistake in communication on both our parts and so we apologized to each other but she KNOWS that my attention and love IS contingent on her being my good little girl which is why she is SUCH a very wonderful girl for me.

To ME, being dominant is about leading someone and being the sort of man and creating the sort of nurturing relationship that makes her want to follow and obey me, not because of fear but because of joy.

My thoughts

I am part of another community, collarme.com which surprises me because my opinion of online bdsm stuff is pretty low. It has its share of idiots but at the same time it is a very diverse place with some amazing people. I have had my ideas challenged, my mind opened, and even been aroused by things I have read there.

I post as SimplyMichael if anyone is bored enough to want to read even more...