Getting in Touch with my Inner Kajira

Growing up Protestant, I was jealous of my Catholic friends who enjoyed the rich traditions and rituals of their brand of Christianity.

I loved the drama, the nudity, the raw passion portrayed in the stained glass windows and the realistic sculptures. There was so much intensity to it and it inexplicably turned me on.

I guess you can say that if God was on Facebook, our relationship status would say, It’s Complicated.

I identify as 100% Christian, but I’m not afraid of exploring rituals and traditions from other religions and cultures.

I am especially fascinated by ritual of all kinds, but as I grew to discover more of my sexuality, I realized that it was erotic ritual that truly fed my soul.

I used to love to watch cheesy movies about virgins getting sacrificed to volcanoes or an evil god. I know, it’s wrong. Yet it feels so right to think of myself tied up spread eagle on a cold stone slab, my thin white nightgown ripped apart to reveal my breasts, glistening with sweat.

David and I hadn’t dated long when we started talking about this side of me. I told him I was reading the Gor books and getting quite a kick out of them. He smiled and on our next date he brought me the most amazing little book. It contained beautifully drawn illustrations of all the Gorean poses and their names.

My jaw dropped. These stylized poses opened up something inside of me. Maybe it was that fantasy I kept having about being a slave, but more than a slave really; someone who could combine the erotic with the spiritual.

bellydance

A few years back, I had taken up belly dancing. I loved how it connected me to my body, to my primal sensuality. These poses had the same effect.

He left the book with me and said I should study them. There was going to be a quiz and failing it would come with consequences.

Oh, my.

Well, I wasn’t going to let that happen!

I studied the book, memorized the poses, the names, felt myself slip into the role of Kajira, a woman whose sole purpose in life is to please a man sexually.

When it was time for the quiz, he had me strip naked. I felt my body vibrate as I obediently did each pose as he called them out in random order. My pussy swelled as the wetness pooled in my sacred spot.

Posing as a slave for David was beyond arousing. He made me feel so sensual, almost supernatural, really. His Dominance and power over me were intoxicating.

erotic slave

As far as the quiz, I passed with flying colors. And in doing so, I opened up a door to a whole new, exotic world.

The Master Appears

“When the student is ready, the Master appears.”
~ Buddhist Proverb

It has been more than six months since I wrote a single word.

My life has taken yet another unexpected turn and it has me going through some exhilarating growing pains.

It all started in March, just a few days after my last blog post. My friend and fellow sub invited me to a social and then a munch. At the munch I met a nice man, an unattached Dom I will call David, though that is not his name.

He didn’t seem terribly interested in me. This didn’t surprise me since I was pretty sure I wasn’t a very interesting person.

Though I had been a sub in a long distance relationship for a year and a half, I had never attended munches, socials or parties. Meeting other people like me was a huge step and one that I’ll always be grateful I took.

Through my dear friend in the lifestyle, David asked if he could contact me. She assured me he wasn’t a serial killer and that he was well respected in the scene, so I said yes.

This was his very first message to me on FetLife:

So… I was thinking about trying to make the party tonight and was wondering if you thought there was a reason I should be there.

I told him I would be there and the butterflies started flying around in my stomach.

Here’s how I thought things would go at the party: we would meet, talk for a bit and then he would get bored or I would get bored and then we would have to figure out that awkward, “It’s not you, it’s me,” speech.

So much for assumptions.

He showed up in a polo shirt and jeans wearing a gun and a shit-eating grin. All 6’2″ of Domness.

He had a head of thick salt and pepper hair, a beard and blue eyes. His legs were long and gorgeous and his ass is the kind of ass you would expect a sub to have. Yummy.

I was wearing a little black dress with strappy heels. A tame, yet tasteful outfit, which probably made me look incredibly vanilla.

I had never been to a kinky party before and it was much more laid back than I thought it would be. Most people dressed just like anyone would at a friend’s party. The Dom/mes weren’t lurking in the shadows ready to eat the new subs for dinner. At least, I don’t think so…

What happened in the next few hours was surreal. David and I sat in the aftercare room of a dungeon in Buttfuck, TX (that wasn’t the city’s name, but you get the idea) talking, flirting and kissing as we heard the intermittent sounds of subs screaming and floggers whacking bare behinds in the rooms all around us.

He said he hardly ever kisses anyone, especially not someone he hardly knew. And there we were, making out like teenagers. 10 Points to the Heartbroken Sub!

His kisses melted my insides and I was soaking through my black lace panties, the ones with the heart-shaped opening in the back. Without much ceremony, he hooked his big fingers under the soft fabric and slipped them off me.

Uh-oh.

Turns out Mr. Big Bad Dom doesn’t care for panties, even if they’re the expensive Victoria Secret kind.

I thought I was still in control of myself until he grabbed a fistful of my blonde curls and pulled my head back, exposing my neck like a vampire about to feed. Sweet Jesus. Something inside me that had been asleep for a while woke up as I entered the point of no return.

Dom pulling sub's hair

But he didn’t escalate things. Even after the party was wrapping up, we were still sitting there on the velvet couch exploring our faces, mouths and fingers.

I said this on my last blog post, just days before I met David:

After the initial shock and devastation of my release, I’ve been haunted by a primal desire to be reborn. I fantasize about a powerful, sadistic Dom who can metaphorically kill the woman I once was and replace her with someone else; a new creation who no longer hurts like I’m hurting now.

I had no idea what a truly dangerous place that was. If David had wanted to, he could have destroyed me. I was that vulnerable at the time; that raw.

David asked me out the next morning for dinner. He picked me up in his truck, checked to make sure I wasn’t wearing the forbidden panties, handcuffed my wrists behind me and took me to a restaurant near downtown Austin. How awesome is that?

He was nice enough to uncuff me before we went in the restaurant and relished the view as I ungracefully got out of his truck with my short, flared skirt.

We went out again the next night and the next.

I wanted to have sex with him and he said… No!

Turns out he’s an old-fashioned guy. Imagine that.

We talked and got to know each other more in the coming days. It didn’t take long before we made love for the first time.

The sex was amazing, but more than that it was connected. It was physical and spiritual and intimate. He didn’t tie me to the bed and whip me into submission, he came at me gently, sweetly with complete control.

A sensual Dominant.

Dom kissing sub

In the next few installments of my blog I will tell you about our relationship and where we are now.

I know, I’m such a tease…