What Makes Addi
Tags dislikes, likes, submissive
This post won’t be about anal. Ok, scrap that, there will be something about anal. I mean, I have a reputation to uphold.
It’s about much more though—about what makes me tick, what drives my likes, and why I’m going to glare at you if you come near me with a ginger plug. Unless you’re Dungeonmaster, in which case—Yes, Sir.
The Torment Of Pleasure And The Calm Of Submission
My list of likes is like a smorgasbord of treats that can lead me straight into submission. Get me on my knees and fuck my ass hard. Make me suck your cock right after you pulled it from my clenching asshole. Force your cock down my throat and have me struggle to breathe; make me serve and please you. Just writing about these has me squirm. Experiencing them…the memories and fantasies have my hands tremble.
It’s the fact that anal is harder to take than getting your pussy fucked. There’s a forceful element. The need to surrender for a cock, dildo or plug to enter. There’s the hint of initial discomfort and the absolute mindfuck of offering my ass to get fucked so hard I know I’ll be sore after. Of keeping my back arched for full access. And no matter how long or hard I get fucked—the friction only gets greater as the lube becomes less plentiful, and with it the pleasure, enhanced by an occasional twinge of pain, increases.
There’s the submission of offering my throat to Sir. Of him controlling my ability to breathe, the most vital of needs. Of fighting through my instincts and gag reflex to give him pleasure, all of it done to serve. Having the cock that used my ass go straight into my mouth is the ultimate way of being used. I give up a little piece of sanity, surrender it to him.
Surrendering to being used into bliss gets enhanced by a stake of ownership. It’s the thrill of marking my skin with Sir’s name and it being there, right underneath the edge of my clothing while I’m on a videocall with someone else. It’s the friction of a crotchrope and the fullness of a dildo and plug in me while going for a walk. And even beyond hidden public, it’s sleeping plugged and waking up squirming with that constant reminder of his order in my body.
Pain has a different effect on my mind—be it the bite of nipple clamps or the impact of a thorough spanking. It’s an outlet for my body, a way to let go of tension, stress, guilt or shame that’s been building up. Every twinge of pain unravels some of the tight control I have over my more destructive emotions. As the pain builds, my control falls apart and the mental pain fades into a pure physical one. By the end of it, when bruises mark my skin and fire licks my abused cells, I’m drained of the bad, at peace. My body feels punished and through it, my mind feels forgiven. Redeemed. Pain is about redemption.
As is discipline, which for me is most present in writing lines. At its most effective, having to sit down to write lines—often plugged, filled with a dildo and clamped—gets me from a shivering, desperate mess into calm focus in minutes. It combines my desire to submit and serve Sir with a deep-seated perfectionism. Every line is written to the best of my ability, a gift of sorts to Sir, a deeply meant statement. Starting over when I make a mistake is frustrating but necessary for my own peace of mind. I’ve begged Sir to let me restart when I felt my work wasn’t living up to what he deserved, even when he accepted it as good enough.
Finally, I’ve been discovering the complex dynamics of submitting to pleasure for these past few weeks with Sir. We are all hedonistic beings at our core—hunting for pleasure and release. It’s easy to take and indulge and so much harder to restrain ourselves. Giving the power over my pleasure to Sir brings a peace of mind that’s hard to compare. It feels like an unsolvable paradox. The wild pleasure that builds from numerous edges, timed seconds apart, resembles anything but peace—it’s a frantic kind of energy that makes the world more colourful and bright. Yet giving that decision—to touch or not, to edge or not, to cum or not—to the person I trust takes away the relentless chasing of it and brings a deep calm.
In all of this, the keyword is trust. I have a strong mind. One that’s always on. Except when I surrender control. When I know I can trust the person ordering me to my knees. Look at my list of likes and realise that none of it is a like if it’s not being done to me by someone I trust, respect, and have chosen to submit to, be it for the duration of a task or for much, much longer.
When My Body Or Mind Refuses To Surrender
Sometimes, my body overrules my mind—no matter how desperately I want to submit. When that happens, I get a sick feeling at the pit of my stomach that overrules everything else. It can be caused by physical sensations alone—when the pain in my nipples gets too sharp, it takes over my entire body and won’t allow pleasure to numb me anymore. Or the ever-increasing heat of a ginger plug inside of me—the fact that it never relents, that the sensation doesn’t change unlike say the rhythm of a hard spanking; it only gets worse in the exact same, horrible way. My body’s instinct to protect itself gets too strong and won’t allow my mind to surrender any longer. It gets worse when it’s the combination of a physical sensation with too much shame. Enemas have that effect on me—holding them makes me cramp so bad that it gets increasingly hard to bear them. Add the shame—the thought of what I’m doing, the gurgling sounds, the way I can’t even stand up straight anymore in a desperate effort to relieve some of the cramping, and the thought of expelling after, and my mind short-circuits, allowing my body’s instinct of self-preservation to kick in ever harder.
Other times, my mind gets stuck on rational and won’t turn off. It doesn’t happen often, but the one thing that seems to trigger it is a complex series of actions to be taken. Too many steps to figure out, too complex a task, and my mind goes into curious or even competitive mode, trying to figure out how to do things, what I can learn from it, and how I can perform that complex task at the best of my ability. I’m no longer submitting at that point, only thinking.
Recently a new addition made it to my list of dislikes, one that may very well be unique to me. Getting the kind of pleasure I get from anal--the physical bliss and the mental perfection of it, there's also a flipside. Fucking my ass without an outlet for that bliss can break me, in fact it has on several occasions. Anal without the possibility to at least edge is something to be used on me/against me with the utmost care.
And there it is, a brief insight into the mind of a submissive with plenty of kinks and a hunger to discover more, to learn, to experience everything submission can involve. And above all, a desire to serve Sir to the best of my ability.
It’s about much more though—about what makes me tick, what drives my likes, and why I’m going to glare at you if you come near me with a ginger plug. Unless you’re Dungeonmaster, in which case—Yes, Sir.
The Torment Of Pleasure And The Calm Of Submission
My list of likes is like a smorgasbord of treats that can lead me straight into submission. Get me on my knees and fuck my ass hard. Make me suck your cock right after you pulled it from my clenching asshole. Force your cock down my throat and have me struggle to breathe; make me serve and please you. Just writing about these has me squirm. Experiencing them…the memories and fantasies have my hands tremble.
It’s the fact that anal is harder to take than getting your pussy fucked. There’s a forceful element. The need to surrender for a cock, dildo or plug to enter. There’s the hint of initial discomfort and the absolute mindfuck of offering my ass to get fucked so hard I know I’ll be sore after. Of keeping my back arched for full access. And no matter how long or hard I get fucked—the friction only gets greater as the lube becomes less plentiful, and with it the pleasure, enhanced by an occasional twinge of pain, increases.
There’s the submission of offering my throat to Sir. Of him controlling my ability to breathe, the most vital of needs. Of fighting through my instincts and gag reflex to give him pleasure, all of it done to serve. Having the cock that used my ass go straight into my mouth is the ultimate way of being used. I give up a little piece of sanity, surrender it to him.
Surrendering to being used into bliss gets enhanced by a stake of ownership. It’s the thrill of marking my skin with Sir’s name and it being there, right underneath the edge of my clothing while I’m on a videocall with someone else. It’s the friction of a crotchrope and the fullness of a dildo and plug in me while going for a walk. And even beyond hidden public, it’s sleeping plugged and waking up squirming with that constant reminder of his order in my body.
Pain has a different effect on my mind—be it the bite of nipple clamps or the impact of a thorough spanking. It’s an outlet for my body, a way to let go of tension, stress, guilt or shame that’s been building up. Every twinge of pain unravels some of the tight control I have over my more destructive emotions. As the pain builds, my control falls apart and the mental pain fades into a pure physical one. By the end of it, when bruises mark my skin and fire licks my abused cells, I’m drained of the bad, at peace. My body feels punished and through it, my mind feels forgiven. Redeemed. Pain is about redemption.
As is discipline, which for me is most present in writing lines. At its most effective, having to sit down to write lines—often plugged, filled with a dildo and clamped—gets me from a shivering, desperate mess into calm focus in minutes. It combines my desire to submit and serve Sir with a deep-seated perfectionism. Every line is written to the best of my ability, a gift of sorts to Sir, a deeply meant statement. Starting over when I make a mistake is frustrating but necessary for my own peace of mind. I’ve begged Sir to let me restart when I felt my work wasn’t living up to what he deserved, even when he accepted it as good enough.
Finally, I’ve been discovering the complex dynamics of submitting to pleasure for these past few weeks with Sir. We are all hedonistic beings at our core—hunting for pleasure and release. It’s easy to take and indulge and so much harder to restrain ourselves. Giving the power over my pleasure to Sir brings a peace of mind that’s hard to compare. It feels like an unsolvable paradox. The wild pleasure that builds from numerous edges, timed seconds apart, resembles anything but peace—it’s a frantic kind of energy that makes the world more colourful and bright. Yet giving that decision—to touch or not, to edge or not, to cum or not—to the person I trust takes away the relentless chasing of it and brings a deep calm.
In all of this, the keyword is trust. I have a strong mind. One that’s always on. Except when I surrender control. When I know I can trust the person ordering me to my knees. Look at my list of likes and realise that none of it is a like if it’s not being done to me by someone I trust, respect, and have chosen to submit to, be it for the duration of a task or for much, much longer.
When My Body Or Mind Refuses To Surrender
Sometimes, my body overrules my mind—no matter how desperately I want to submit. When that happens, I get a sick feeling at the pit of my stomach that overrules everything else. It can be caused by physical sensations alone—when the pain in my nipples gets too sharp, it takes over my entire body and won’t allow pleasure to numb me anymore. Or the ever-increasing heat of a ginger plug inside of me—the fact that it never relents, that the sensation doesn’t change unlike say the rhythm of a hard spanking; it only gets worse in the exact same, horrible way. My body’s instinct to protect itself gets too strong and won’t allow my mind to surrender any longer. It gets worse when it’s the combination of a physical sensation with too much shame. Enemas have that effect on me—holding them makes me cramp so bad that it gets increasingly hard to bear them. Add the shame—the thought of what I’m doing, the gurgling sounds, the way I can’t even stand up straight anymore in a desperate effort to relieve some of the cramping, and the thought of expelling after, and my mind short-circuits, allowing my body’s instinct of self-preservation to kick in ever harder.
Other times, my mind gets stuck on rational and won’t turn off. It doesn’t happen often, but the one thing that seems to trigger it is a complex series of actions to be taken. Too many steps to figure out, too complex a task, and my mind goes into curious or even competitive mode, trying to figure out how to do things, what I can learn from it, and how I can perform that complex task at the best of my ability. I’m no longer submitting at that point, only thinking.
Recently a new addition made it to my list of dislikes, one that may very well be unique to me. Getting the kind of pleasure I get from anal--the physical bliss and the mental perfection of it, there's also a flipside. Fucking my ass without an outlet for that bliss can break me, in fact it has on several occasions. Anal without the possibility to at least edge is something to be used on me/against me with the utmost care.
And there it is, a brief insight into the mind of a submissive with plenty of kinks and a hunger to discover more, to learn, to experience everything submission can involve. And above all, a desire to serve Sir to the best of my ability.
Total Comments 5
Comments
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Posted 12-03-2020 at 07:36 AM by Lightze -
Posted 12-03-2020 at 08:58 AM by Jaro -
Posted 12-03-2020 at 09:58 AM by InstantInferno -
Often I want to be humiliated to the point of no longer enjoying it in the moment, but that I know I will LOVE later.
This is really hars to explain to a master AND to find a master who is right doing it. Often times, master IRL is too gentle with me and observes my softening clock as a NO. Or they feel afraid FOR me. They back off. Which entirely ruins the humiliation for me.
Online doesnt work for me the same way. I have tried! My mind shuts down. I cant be over humiliated if I am in charge...which I am with an online master. I back out easily. Often I am not viewed doing the dare. It doesnt work.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts! Good stuffPosted 12-03-2020 at 04:25 PM by zephyrnem -
Posted 12-04-2020 at 12:22 AM by bluedieblub