The learning addiction....

I am the Mistress, Ma'am, Miss, The Lady, Goddess, Bitch, Sadist, Cunt, Dominant, Dominatrix, Domme, Owner, Temptress, Seductress.... The list goes on and on and on.....


But what is not seen, seems to be the most important. The things most people miss when they look at me and see only the above.

I am the Daughter, the granddaughter, the sister, niece, cousin, the friend, lover, confidant, the healer, the nurturer, the psychic, the pagan, the gnostic, a child of God, a Woman, a student, a teacher, the book worm, intelligent, fighter, cook, CNA a survivor of violence, the protector, the extroverted life of the party, a strong woman and a success story.






But what no one ever sees, with the exception of two very special friends in my life is the other side of me. The side that I let no one see.





I am also, the child who reaches to be let out, insecure, scared, needing to be loved, needing to be accepted, the girl who needs to be held, craver of physical touch, lost in my mind at times, one who hates ignorance, yet feels herself filled with it at times, her own worst critic and doubter.



In my last post, I wrote of how truly lucky I am. And I am. That has not changed, but I have begun to realize many things about myself. The last few days have brought about a great deal of reflection.

My identity as a Mistress grows, evolves and changes every day. I find that it also changes my other self. My insecurities and negative personas are slowly dissipating.




But…. There are a few things that will never change. I will always be my own worst critic. It pushes me to be a better, stronger person and it is what has driven my success in my life. My need, desire and craving for physical touch. I live off of it, thrive from it, and drive some of the greatest joy in my life from the most simplistic thing as a hug, or touch from a loved one.  Or the fact that I want, someone to love me, to tell me that I am beautiful, to be there for me. I don’t honestly believe that those last two things are any different than any other woman out there. The only difference is that I want those things from a submissive male.



I find that the bond, and intimacy I get from my submissive is much more intense than the others I have had with a regular man.  The trust, the strength, the intimacy. Its overwhelmingly powerful, and at times, intoxicating.

The look in my boy’s eyes… when I stare deep into them and tell him to bare the pain to push through it, and I hear him take that breath, see the fear in his eyes, watch him fight the pain I am causing him, so profound he cannot think. To see him stare back into my eyes, with fear only to have that fear and pain over taken by trust and strength that he derives from me. That is intoxicating. A pure, simple, drug. And I am addicted….


I asked brat tonight a simple question. What, does your collar mean to you. His response was profound.

“Trust, the trust I have in you, and my submission for you.”

I then asked him what his smaller collar means… the necklace I gave him when I started seeing him, the one he wears every day.

“Trust, a daily reminder of this and my larger collar and everything it means.”

For me, this was the response I wanted, not expected, but what I wanted. Most submissives, when asked what the leather collar they wear when with me means to them, they say serving, play or something along those lines. Never trust…..

These are the things I love about my submissives. I don’t feel like I have to be the strong, powerful woman I am constantly around them. I can relax, and even confide to a certain point in my boys. I can let them see the human side of me. Which I have never been able to do with any other boy, ever.

Even to a point though, my fears and outward strength, prevent me from sharing the things I wish I could with them.


Brat called tonight to tell me he got home. I was listening to John Denver, Country Roads. He asked me what I was listening to and why. He was a little more than surprised when I told him it was one of the songs they played at my grandfathers funeral. He asked me, why in the hell I would be listening to it at that moment, after a wonderful evening with him and I was in a great mood….. 

I wanted to tell him why, but found myself saying it was simply because it was a good memory of him. Not because it was October, and the last time I saw my grandfather, whom I loved and was very close to, alive, was last October….



I found myself holding back the sadness and the fact that all I wanted to do was cry because I missed my grandfather.  Its not that I don’t trust my boys. I honestly don’t know why I cannot reveal this part of myself to them…..But I am sure I will learn even that answer soon.




Its amazing what I learn each day about myself. Profoundly amazing. These boys teach me so much about myself, I don’t think they even realize it…..

Well after a needed and nostalgic post about a Mistresses feelings, I return you to your normal programming of perverse smut and bondage! Tonight’s saran wrap adventures will be coming soon!