Yoga, And Serious Fun (IC, 13 April 05)

BelasariusMy submissive took up yoga – and ultimately made it an important part of her life. We thought of it originally to enhance our enjoyment of bondage – it seemed a good way of improving suppleness to give us more play options. We had no idea that, over time, what it would really achieve, was mental stamina – her ability to tolerate all sorts of trussings for longer and longer improved enormously, and she put this down to mental focus.. and her ability to focus was unlocked by her yoga.

 

But, what I really want to write about today is the connection we discovered between yoga and submission. I’m not saying that one directly relates to and improves the other, but that a number of qualities that yoga, and meditation, seem to encourage the development of a strong and capable submissive personality.

 

Petra's Yoga Poses around the world
Petra’s Yoga Poses around the world (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Two examples:

 

Inner peace: It’s not always possible to be content with the decisions that have been made for you. Contemplation helps.

 

Self discipline: A fundamental and often overlooked quality of submission, I guess strongly related to “inner peace”: Strong self discipline eliminates laziness and encourages its possessor to strive always to improve.

 

As a footnote, I’d like to comment on fun. Several here have wondered whether the serious and intense nature of the relationship I was fortunate enough to experience meant it was not much fun. This is probably the most painful thing I’ve written to date: Gosh it was fun, it was joyous, mischievous, exciting, surprising and enormous fun. Two people had pledged themselves to design their entire lives to please the other. It was a game. A game played at Olympian standards – but still a game. A game where you had to know when not to smirk… But always a game. Maybe, apart from politics, the only game for grown-ups.

I am migrating my blog from UK BDSM website, Informed Consent (due to close in February 2013), to this, my private blog and also to the new community website it seems most likely that c_b and I will use going forward, Fetbook. This blog “The Rules We Lived By” was first published on Informed Consent on  6 April 2005. My private blog is belasarius.com

 

 

 

The Rules we Lived By (IC, 6 April 2005)

acedc11cbeb3a2a0b4e3bca15378bec4This is really a continuation of my last post. I thought I’d share what service meant to me and my significant other, so many years ago…

First of all, service was not (except in special and particular cases) about cooking (try keeping me out of the kitchen!), cleaning or other domestic chores. We both worked and domestic drudgery was shared. No, service was about rituals and rules that shaped our lives and the way we related to  . It evolved into a complicated pattern and included many specifics all designed to pin us into our roles as master and servant (I’m not sure slave is quite right – I think we aspired in that direction but never quite achieved it).

Some of the specifics included:

She never spoke unless spoken to or unless seeking and being given permission to speak. This pertained in private and in public – in public situations we used subtle signals to ask, give or deny permission.

I would always let her know when I was expected home each evening – and she would endeavour to be there before me, groomed, lubricated and available in case of my need and with my favourite drink mixed and ready.

In company, at parties, etc, she would fetch both our drinks, she would stand in queues at the buffet/barbie, etc.

At home, she would not sit in my presence without permission, nor ever on furniture unless invited. In public, she would always sit at my feet if at all seemly.

She did not pee nor poo without my permission.

She laid out my clothes of an evening and always tied my tie in the mornings.

She would not feed herself without my permission. It was common for us to share a large plate, with me feeding her, or her dipping in when given permission.

She would usually retire 20 minutes before me, to groom, shave and prepare herself in case I required her services.

We shared a love of books. We’d often turn off the TV and she’d read to me, aloud.

She always drew my baths.

Bathtub in a house in ancient Herculaneum
Bathtub in a house in ancient Herculaneum (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She always sought approval for anything she was to wear, if I had not already made a choice.

In public I always opened doors for her, helped her into cars, did her seatbelt. If ever asked why, we always said to protect her fingernails from harm: They were, in fact, spectacular.

I am migrating my blog from UK BDSM website, Informed Consent (due to close in February 2013), to this, my private blog and also to the new community website it seems most likely that c_b and I will use going forward, Fetbook. This blog “The Rules We Lived By” was first published on Informed Consent on  6 April 2005. My private blog is belasarius.com

 

The Beauty Of Service (IC – 4 April 2005)

BelasariusI thought I’d write this blog, after seeing other, similar ones because, to me, “the beauty of service” is at the root of the relationship I enjoyed, and would be the core of anything I might be fortunate enough to enjoy in the future.

I feel helplessly inadequate in expressing my feelings here: But, for me, it is my role to adore, cherish and control someone, to thrill her by piloting us both on a journey that always has new and more challenging destinations.

My reward is the right to make her mine and to shape her as I want her. Fundamental to this is the respect that comes from service offered because it expresses her attachment to me – service offered joyously.

For me, the sexual side of D/s is a celebration of all this, and discipline & chastisement are tools

Ball gag
Ball gag (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

we initially agree to use to help us achieve our joint objectives. Neither of these aspects are fundamental -they merely help us express our natures.

Re-reading this, it seems pseudish in the extreme, but I have no better words. I really want to know how others see this.

I am gradually migrating my blog from UK BDSM website, Informed Consent (due to close in February 2013), to this, my private blog and also to the new community website it seems most likely that c_b and I will use going forward, Fetbook. This blog “The Beauty of Service” was first published on Informed Consent on  4 April 2005. My private blog is belasarius.com

Tights and scarves in a Euston Bedsit (IC, March 2005)

BelasariusShe liked to be taken when a frenzy of tickling had reduced her to a floppy little pile of nerve endings. I liked to have her like that too – so utterly relaxed but also aglow and atingle.

She liked to be tickled in bed.

But, she struggled. The coup de grace was to get to her feet – she wanted it but boy would she struggle to prevent it. Cries of “keep still” didn’t work: “keep still damn you” was no better.

It was she that pointed out the laundry basket: “get my tights” she breathed. “there’s a scarf on the chair by the wardrobe”…

And, a little later: “Don’t tie them together silly – how on earth are you going to get in – tie them apart”.

This was less an introduction to bondage, more an initiation into the pleasures of taking, and losing, control.

More anon.

I am gradually migrating my blog from UK BDSM website, Informed Consent (due to close in February 2013), to this, my private blog and also to the new community website it seems most likely that c_b and I will use going forward, Fetbook. This blog “Tights and Scarves in a Euston Bedsit” was first published on Informed Consent on  22 March 2005. My private blog is belasarius.com

 

My D/s Beginnings

BelasariusI am migrating my blog from UK BDSM website, Informed Consent (which closed in February 2013), to this, my private blog. This piece “My D/s beginnings” was first published on Informed Consent on  21 March 2005.

This is my first blog. I’m not sure what will come of these, but I’m writing this to help me, and maybe others too, understand me better.

I thought I’d start with the story of how the D/s beast was awoken within me. It wasn’t my fault, honest: it was always there, but it wasn’t until something happened that I discovered this. Actually, it wasn’t until a long time after something happened that I came to terms with the feelings that I’d obviously had since I was quite small. I met a girl. She was an undergraduate at  a London college. My career was just getting to the interesting bit – you know, when you are finally trusted to screw up on your own. Anyhow, we’d been seeing each other for a while and enjoying a gratifyingly lusty vanilla life. We’d each got to the point of thinking about the other seriously. I travelled frequently and was often out of town for a day or two. Mobile phones had hardly been invented and she, the impecunious student, had no phone in her behind-Euston flat – so I pined a

Kings Cross, London - The departures board at ...
Kings Cross, London – The departures board at Kings Cross Station (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

lot when I was away from her. One Thursday, though she phoned me – she was at her Dad’s office and was determined not only to talk to me, but I guess to make me blush in front of my client.  The conversation didn’t last long, but she did ask me what I most wanted when I saw her again. I suggested she meet me at Kings Cross Station, naked and with a rose in her teeth.

Friday Night – There she was

The rose was in her teeth and she was wearing the pinkest macintosh you ever saw. Oh, and espadrilles (remember them?). I spotted her at 100 paces. And, at 20 paces I was certain she must either be wearing a skirt that was much shorter than any i’d seen her wear before or…

She would be my first and future s – but it was a rocky road getting there, more of which anon.

You’ve guessed. She was. And i wanted to get home fast. But, she absolutely insisted we go for a drink in the pub round the corner first…. I’ll draw a veil over the rest. But, it was a rermarkable weekend. I took her out for a curry on Sunday night before heading back to get ready for an early train to York (or it may have been Leeds). I told her I’d been truly gobsmacked by the pink mac incident. She was arch, she said she knew. I asked her why: She said “Because you asked me to. And, If I can, I will do anything you ask of me”. At the time I found this scary. I did not see a D/s dimension in it. Neither of us had, up to now mentioned the L word – I thought that was what she was working up to and I made my excuses and left. It was only quite a lot later that I understood that she knew what she wanted from a relationship and was trying to work out if she could get it  from me.

Other blogs about my first D/s relationship