…This would come from them!

Antonio and I talked about me keeping a blog LONG before it actually happened.  He had me write posts and everything, so he could read them over and help me see what made a good, readable post, etc.  (Clearly, I have not cottoned on quite yet.)

Reading this post by libby made me smile because I remembered some of the things I said in those “posts” from long ago,that never saw the light of day.  Anyway, libby said:

when people get into BDSM they have a longgggggg list of things that are too much for them, things they think are too risky or too intense or too extreme or whatever.

In the very beginning, Antonio sent me lists of words and asked me to do word association with them.  Most were sexual and BDSM related.

Because I’m a certifiable genius, I  got it in my head it was some sort of way for me to set ground rules.  So I could tell him what was “okay” for him to do and what was a definite “no-no.”  You know, like I actually had a say in the matter.

I’ll pause to allow everyone to laugh at me.

…

…

…

Ready to move on? 

Outstanding.

I figured out pretty quickly he’s just the kind of guy who likes to have information.  Information is power.  I give the information, he’s got the power.

I thought I’d share a portion of that blog-writing I did long before I actually had a blog.  It was based on one of those word association words.  At the time, for some curious reason, I thought I had limits.  Well, limits beyond The Big Four (which I talked about a little here, I believe).  I had also stated categorically to The Man that I had no interest in any form of watersports.  I did not want to be pissed on, pissed near, or even be aware that pissing had taken place, and I made sure to tell Antonio he was all kinds of insane for making pointed remarks about me being obsessed with pissing.  INSANE, omg, insane. Wasn’t gonna happen, Sir.  Never ever.  Put THAT in your Dom pipe and smoke it!

But… Writing about it back then forced me to really THINK about it.  And in that moment, I decided I had a very small desire to see what it would be like to be pissed on.  Not in, NEVER in, but on.  I thought I was SUCH brave girl for the confession in this “post” about that teeny desire:

Water Sports

My Master suffers the delusion I harbor a secret fetish.

I want nothing to do with urine.

At least I think I don’t.

So… Perhaps he’s right.

Fuck!

Seriously, damn him for always being right. Damn, damn, damn. I’m a smart girl, but he manages to outthink me with alarming regularity. Especially concerning my needs, wants, desires, motivations, and behaviors. Hmph. Damn, damn, DAMN!

Excuse me while I go kick furniture.

Right then. Well, I’ve been forced to think about this “limit” and while I have decided it might not be an entirely hard limit, I know a couple things for certain. I will not accept urine in my mouth, or funneled into my ass. If Antonio says he wants a toilet, well, here’s a novel fucking idea – use a God damn toilet, Sir. (Blogs make me brave, I’d never say it quite like that. But really, that part of the limit is very hard.)

The thing is… When it comes to being urinated ON, I’m not entirely convinced I would hate it. (My keyboard feels like it’s made of cement right now. Ugh.) I mean, I’d hate it, sure. It’s humiliating. It smells. It lacks any semblance of respect or dignity.

But it’s private. It’s personal. It’s humiliating. It smells. It lacks any semblance of respect or dignity. It’s… Well… I’d be in my place. And I love my place.

I haven’t the slightest idea how Antonio feels about this. I guess we’ll see. I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s not a fetish. I don’t want to do it because I’d like it or it would turn me on. But if he wanted to humiliate me like that, I’d be game. I know he’s going to tease me mercilessly, because I’ve insisted I want nothing to do with piss and he’s insisted I do. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe my state of mind right now, but when it comes to Antonio, not doing or thinking or saying things because they will embarrass me is definitely a thing of the past… *sigh*

Oh, man, I’m giggling at myself. 

Did you like the part about “here’s a novel fucking idea” regarding piss in my mouth?  I did.  It was awesome.  I’m so clearly awesome.  (Note: Replace “awesome” with “deluded” and those sentences become true.)

GOD I amuse myself. I thought I was such a badass little submissive girl.

Anyway, with that out of the way, we began a slow building-up to the point where I was more comfortable with just being urinated on, long before we ventured toward the human toilet thing.

No, wait…  That’s not quite right…

Because the first time he pissed “on” me?  Our first foray into that territory that was so very uncomfortable for me?  Can you guess where on my body it was?  Oh, that’s right, it was directly in my mouth, for me to swallow.

Heh. 

And that’s basically how he rules the roost.  He knows me far better than I know myself.  He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, and he insists, with the right a Master has, that my number one desire is to make him happy.  So I pour all kinds of information at him, about what I want and don’t want, what I like and don’t like, feelings, emotions, fears, desires.  He lets me voice things, mull things over, and talk to him about things.  

And then he does what he wants to do.  And for some reason… It always ends up feeling right and safe (maybe not in the exact moment, always, but the experience as a whole).  I don’t know how he does that, but it’s probably got something to do with how ridiculously awesome he is. Actions speak louder than words, and if I ramble on in my head or in written word about my feelings on something – it’s generally fine.  Why?  Because as long as I don’t try his patience or forget my tone, when the time comes to act, that’s when he’s keeping score.  And Antonio abides by the idea that I will never know just how much I can handle until handling it is my only option.

For that, and countless other things, I love him so completely I don’t have words to do it justice.  I’m a million times stronger and braver and happier for being his.  He makes my world a wonderful place to exist.

(I still don’t exactly L-O-V-E drinking piss, btw.  Just in case anyone (*cough*Antonio*cough*) gets the wrong idea…  I love that it’s something I have to do, I love how it makes me squirm to know I have to do it, but the act itself is totally YICK.)

(And a quick note to libby, on the off chance she reads this post.  I’m a reader of your blog, but since your commenting feature has no option for name/URL, I’ve never found a good way to comment in there.   But thank you for your post, and your blog on the whole! You seem like such a sweet writer with a wonderful Master, wonderful relationships and a wonderful family, and I’ve always been bummed I can’t comment on your writing.)