Some Girls are Clever

       I remember this girl that was just diabolically clever at avoiding punishment.  Whenever she'd done something that drove me to wanting to scream and pull out either her hair or my own, she'd paint this adorably downcast look on her face, and mumble forlornly, "Please, Sir, have mercy...after all, I am just a simple whore."

       More often than I care to admit, I'd simply fume for a moment, then frown at her and, with a dismissive wave of my hand, say, "Oh...hell...just...clean it up."

       Her only mistake was occasionally then allowing a fleeting smile to appear on her face.  At which point, I'd point a menacing finger at her and warn, "Don't you dare smirk, or I swear to God, I'll slap the shit out of you."

       Appropriately stone-faced again, she'd obediently reply, "Yes, Sir."

       It's really annoying being regularly outwitted by your submissive miss.  (weary sigh)

For a Better Life

       Lack of prayer is the biggest obstacle to creating the life we desire.

       And me, I'm guilty as hell.

       Charles Spurgeon, the famous English minister (who at one time preached at 5 different churches on Sundays, riding from one to the next on horseback), noted for his 16-hour workdays, declared that he regularly spent 3 or 4 hours a day in prayer.  His astonished interviewer asked him how he managed to fit that in and still get done all that he did each day.  Spurgeon explained that it was his daily prayer time that enabled him to accomplish all the other myriad tasks he attended to.

       Me, I have trouble squeezing in two minutes for reading a daily devotional - even though I'm always grateful, after the fact, that I took the time.

       Here's the thing - God is the Creator of Life.  He's the only one who really knows how this Life thing works.  So why would we spend hours each week talking to our just-as-lost-as-we-are friends about our problems, our pains, our wishes and desires...yet neglect to spend more than a few minutes talking with the ultimate Expert, the One who can genuinely and unfailingly guide us along the rocky paths of our lives?

       Well, 'cause we're stupid. :)  And stubborn.

       I'll admit, talking with God isn't always easy.  Hearing his voice isn't always simple.  But it's worth the time and effort.  "Show me your ways, Lord, and teach me your paths, for my hope is in You, and nowhere else.  You alone are the Lord."

        Here's the thing.  God is the only "person" out there who is genuinely rooting for us to "win" at this life thing, all day long, every day of our lives.

The God of...Better than That

   Do you know what the most oft-repeated refrain of God's in the Bible is? - Some variation or another of the statement, "Do not be afraid."  365 times (Hmm...that's one for every day of the year, isn't it?) the phrase, "Fear not" is repeated.  Makes quite natural sense if you consider it, since the immediate result of original sin was, as clearly stated in the book of Genesis, "They were afraid, and hid themselves."  And that's really the whole thing of it - We run from God because we know how badly we've messed up, and we're afraid that He's mad at us, when the Truth of it is that He is only sorrowfully missing the pleasure of our company.  We are all, each and every one of us, the fearful, remorseful prodigal son, and God is ever the loving Father, anxiously watching the road for our return, ready to run to meet us, and joyfully sweep us up in his arms.

   He is, indeed, "the God of surprises", the God of "better than anything we could ever have imagined".  He is, in sum, the very best God that we could hope for...and then some.

   He's just cool that way.

Just a Funny (twisted) Story

       All of the really deeply insane perverts - at least among males in the bdsm community - live in London.  For all their foppish, British ways, male Doms in London put their American counterparts to shame.

       London is where my dear, disturbed friend, Charlie, took me to my first underground S&M club.  After entering and looking round for a few seconds - at the girl manacled naked to a table, being whipped, and the guy in leather undies crawling on all fours at his mistress' side - I turned to him and observed, "Okay, I like to think I'm as twisted as the next guy...but these people are sick."  Later that evening, I met a charming, little submissive from Hampstead Heath, and, well, the rest is history...I, too, am now among the damned. :)

       Anyway, the story I wanted to tell you is about this time we were out to lunch with this guy who actually led his girlfriend/slave about in public on a collar and leash.  We were sitting round a table at an outdoor cafe, and what this guy kept doing was - every time his girlfriend had occasion to turn her head, like to look at the waitress to ask for something, or just in reaction to a sound across the way - he'd give a quick tug on the leash, whipping her head back round a bit.  He had the end of the leash in his lap, and he didn't even seem to be paying attention to her all that much, but he rarely seemed to miss an opportunity.  He'd be talking and looking directly at me or someone else at the table, and - without any obvious movement of his hand, and without looking over at her himself, even though I did - he'd just tug, and her head would jerk back to the left a bit.  Well, this went on for some time.  Finally, after he'd yanked her back as she was reaching for the bottle of wine to refill her glass, I just burst out laughing, and, shaking my head, apologetically remarked, "I'm sorry, but that just is really funny as hell.  Are you all right, Linda?"  She frowned, slipping a finger inside the collar to adjust it, and frumpily replied, "Yes.  I'm just ducky."

       Life in the fast lane.

P.S.  London may be home to world's best submissive women as well (apologies to all my darling, Anerican submissive friends) - There's really nothing quite like a girl looking back over her shoulder and up at you, and breathlessly exclaiming in that delightfully soft British accent, "Sodomize me."

Melody for an Unknown Girl

       You and I were born, although on different nights, under the same star, with the same confluence of angels in attendance, with the same song, with complimentary lights and absences of light.

       In a perfect world, we'd have grown up together, married young, had 7 sparkingly bright children (the last one named simply "John", because we'd run out of clever names like "Gwyneth" and "Heath"), and lived an idyllic life, unbroken and undaunted.

       But we're centuries away from a perfect world, a very, very long way away indeed.  (It may be only the wink of an eye for God, but it's "a damned long time" for those of us wearing wristwatches.)

       And so, instead, we have been condemned to wander the long nights in search of each other, walking only by starlight, and even that often occluded by clouds and darkness.  Rather than love, it has been obstacles and painful detours that have filled our lives and emptied our hearts.

       Thus, when you finally, at long last, alight from the train, you find me bent against the wind and the cold, looking weary, a bit worn down at the heels, and well past believing in anything.  But I am standing there, nonetheless, in a faith no longer dependent on belief, waiting for you.  And no matter how dimmed it may be, I do not miss the once-brilliant sparkle in your eyes, and from somewhere in time I retrieve a smile that I have been saving, just for you, all of my misbegotten life.

       As I offer a hand to help you step down onto the platform, you too discover a smile, and quietly note, "It's good of you to meet me."

       And that enables me to smile a bit more broadly, almost grin.  "Hey, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  After all, I've been standing here for bloody ever.  Where in hell have you been anyway?"

       Your head bows, and sadness steals your smile, as you apologetically mumble, "I'm sorry - I got a bit lost."

       I reach out a hand, and lift your chin.  "It's all right - Me, too."

       "But we've found each other now."

       "Indeed," I nod in agreement.

       You take my hand, as we stride through the crowded station, and ask, "Where shall we go then?"

       "Hmm...Home, I think.  Yes, let's go home then."

       The whole world blossoms into light and warmth and music and fragrances, as you lean your head against my shoulder, and sigh, "My, that does sound nice.  Tell me, what does our home look like?"

       With a squeeze of your hand, I reply, "I've quite forgotten...Let's go find out."

The Definition of "Cool"

       The following story is recounted in Hollywood as illustrating the definition of "cool".

       Jack Nicholson was at a party, lounging against the wall, sunglasses on, a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, when a cute, perky, young starlet bounced up to him and enthusiastically inquired, "Hi, Mr. Nicholson!  Want to dance?"

       It's reported that Jack drily replied, "Wrong verb, honey."

"What Is It?"

       There is an Unseen Force which governs all things, which sustains all life, which is our beginning, and our end.

       The great Zen master, Ma-tzu, when he sensed a student was on the verge of enlightenment, would often use the technique - in an attempt to help them "penetrate all the way through" - of suddenly shouting, "What is It?"  For that is what enlightenment is, the perception of This One Great Fundamental Thing, the realization of the one fundamental Truth.

       The Bible opens with the words, "In the beginning, God...".  If one only truly grasp this truth, then one hardly need bother to read any further.

       We are not the Sun, the source of Light - we are like the moon, only giving light as we reflect it from the Source of light.  The great masters spoke of this, saying, "If I cease to exist, Tao would yet Be.  But if Tao ceased to exist, then nothing would be."

       Poets and songwriters have echoed this truth throughout the centuries.  Carole King penned the words, "Only love is real...everything else is illusion."

       Apart from love, there is no meaning.  Apart from love, there is only darkness.  Apart from love, life is not life at all, but merely a living death.  Love is the breath of life.

       "Therefore, seek, above all things, love, and light, and life."

Let's Get Married!

       I mourn the death of marriage in our society.  (I don't know if they're still getting married in China or not.)

       No one gets married anymore.  It seems to always be you hang out at my place, or I'll hang out at your place, until we inevitably break up in two weeks, two months, or two years.  No one has any faith, or guts.  And so no one is interested in making a genuinely substantial commitment.  It's sad-making, damn it.

       Come on, people, let's fall in love - head over heels, hopelessly, madly, irretrievably in love - and let's boldly make a commitment, do something that means something, for God's sake.  Come on, let's all run out there and get MARRIED!

       In fact, just to enthusiastically boost you all forward, I hereby vow to go in ardent search of a spousal type person myself.  In fact, I vow to propose marriage to the very next girl I see.

       All right, all right, maybe I got a little carried away there...  Still, I don't want to break a vow, for Christ's sake.  Oh well, I guess I'm just going to have to go poke both my eyes out with a sharp stick now.  Jeez, I hate it when that happens.  Excuse me.  I'll be back once I learn how to operate the braille keyboard...

Love is a Battlefield...part 27 or so

       (The subtitle of this one should be, "Never get involved with someone who's about to become a devout member of Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous"...but I never listen to me anyway.)

       So, once upon a time, I met a girl.

       (Editor's note:  All stories that begin this way end tragically, but I recount them time to time all the same.)

       Right off - I mean, within the space of a 15 or 20 second elevator conversation - I clicked on the fact that she was a submissive (actually, it turned out she was kind of a switch...but not with me - sorry, I don't get topped).  It took a couple of more conversations before I picked up on the fact that she was also in the death throes of sexual addiction, having reached the point where she exercised virtually no discretion in her choice of partners.  Still, there was something about her.  "Special" always seems to scream at me.  For one thing, she had a wickedly good sense of humor.  Plus, I enjoyed the fact that I had her pegged from the get go, whereas she had a bit of trouble figuring me out (I may have mischievously had something to do with that).  I got a kick out of an incident, very, very early on in our relationship (second conversation, in fact), where she defiantly pouted, "You don't know me!  You just met me!"  I smiled and drily replied, "I know you need somebody to slap the cute out of you."

       I threw her a curve by, rather than simply accepting her unspoken, but nonetheless obvious, invitation to bed her, I romanced her for a couple of weeks.  We did eventually end up in bed ( go figure, huh?) one Friday evening.  On the following Monday, I called her and asked if she wanted to get together after work.  Well, she absolutely exploded, with something to the effect of, "You don't own me!"  It struck me that, "The lady doth protest too much...".  When she called me later that evening, I not-so-politely declined her invitation to come over to her place.  I didn't know what was going on, but I knew something was going on.

       The mystery was solved when she sent me an email the next day that read (this isn't exact - my memory's not that good - but it's close enough), "I'm so sorry.  Last night, I had an appointment to meet an old girlfriend of mine, and do a scene with her and her new boyfriend.  It turned out that I wasn't attracted to him at all, and all that happened was he got to slap my bottom a few times - then I left and called you.  Please help me.  I'm so messed up, I'm doing things I don't really want to all the time.  But I think that maybe I could stop if you would help me.  Maybe as long as you were loving me, I could stop.  Do you think so?  Is that possible? Please call me."

       This is, necessarily, a very abridged version of this whole thing (this is a column, not a book) - let's just skip ahead to the part where we're lying in bed together later that night, and, with tears streaming down her pretty cheeks, she took my face in her hands and kissed me, saying, "I surrender...I surrender...to you, I surrender."

       Of course, girls say stuff like that sometimes when they're freshly spanked and fucked.  You shouldn't jump to the conclusion that it's got any substantial carryover effect unless you see some actual evidence of that outside of the bedroom.

       Oh, the tragic ending?  Well, it kind of turned out that latching onto me was her way of "detoxing" herself from the sexual addiction stuff.  Once she'd regained her psychological balance a bit, she decided to join SLAA (Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous) - in the end, that meant kissing me goodbye as well (apparently, SLAA sort of frowns on D/s relationships).  It was all right though, really - just another one of those relationships that I could probably easily put down the baggage from with a mere ten years or so of intensive psychotherapy.  :) 

Mind Control and Free Will

Like God on high, I prefer that devotion be freely given.  I feel the need to preface this entry with that statement that I am, essentially, at heart, and always, a big fan of free will.  And that cannot help but color my remarks here.

Of course, I’m also right.

A psychologist friend of mine, living in a D/s relationship (He’s the “D”), confided to me that, with her enthusiastic consent, he has begun using hypnosis on his live-in girlfriend to reinforce her position as his slave.  That is, he regularly hypnotizes her and plants post-hypnotic suggestions designed to increase her feelings of submission and devotion to him.  Things like, “You will always feel pleasure from serving me in any way”, and, “Each day, your desire to serve me increases”.  You get the idea, right? 

Let me note that she’s totally in favor of the idea, and did freely agree/consent to it.  It’s not like he “secretly” hypnotized her or whatever. 

Anyway, they were both foolish enough to ask for my opinion on this practice.  After a thoughtful pause, long enough to enjoy a large draught of an excellent Bordeaux wine they were serving, I replied, “While the notion definitely has an appeal…I think it’s a bridge too far.  Personally, while I might be tempted by it, ultimately I wouldn’t be comfortable with it.” 

They, naturally enough, argued that since she freely consented to the hypnosis sessions, fully aware of their purpose, that it was not an abridgement of her free will.  I suppose that might possibly be at least “true in a way”.  But I don’t think that it’s ultimately true.  No, if I were to do that sort of thing, I’ve no doubt that at some point I’d begin to feel – and quite uncomfortably so – that I’d rather more or less created a robot servant for myself.  And robots, while useful and fun, are simply not the same thing as a person genuinely, willingly devoting themselves to you in freely-chosen submission.  There’s nothing flattering, for instance, or particulary gratifying, about a robot doing simply what you’ve programmed it to do. 

It is an interesting question, however, and, as alluded to above, it brought to my twisted mind the larger issue of God desiring love and devotion, but not willing to compel it in any way.  Why doesn’t God just make everyone be good? – Answer:  Because it wouldn’t mean anything then.  Not to Him, nor to us.  Likewise, I have no desire to “program” anyone in any way to slavishly devote themselves to me – because the genuine pleasure that I receive from a girl’s submission is very much wrapped up in the fact that she has freely chosen to offer herself to me in that way.

Plus, there's the simple fact that, knowing myself as I do, I know that, were I to indulge in such a practice, my wicked sense of humor would insist that I implant post-hypnotic suggestions like, "The next time you're in church, whenever you hear the word 'prayer', you will bark loudly three times, like a happy puppy".

Again, this is certainly a debatable issue.

But, again, I’m right. :)

Simplified Master/slave Contract

     You know, people complicate things way too much.  Therefore, offered here for your perusal, is my suggested, bare essence, Master/slave contract:

        slave hereby vows:

        Okay, I'll do anything you want.

        ____________________

        signature

        Master hereby vows:

        Sounds great!

        ____________________

        signature

        Life isn't really that difficult, if you don't make it difficult.

        P.S.  Well, okay, you might want to put in a separate clause to make double-sure that she knows she has to make the coffee in the morning, no matter how late she was up the night before.

Quick Question - Why Doesn't Anyone Like Babies Anymore?

All right, this has very little, if damn all, to do with Dominance/submission, but just indulge me for a brief rant.

Why doesn't anyone like babies anymore? I swear, all the women I meet nowadays are more afraid of getting pregnant than the girls I shamelessly slept with in college. I'm sure there was a period in there somewhere between those two points in my life where women secretly yearned to be "knocked up".

Random (but "on point") anecdote: I recall my time at university, when every girl was on "the pill" - you didn't even need to ask anymore, it just went without saying. Or so I thought. Until this darling, Catholic girl that I'd been sleeping with for about four months politely informed me that (A) she wasn't on the pill, nor doing anything else in the birth control line, and (B) she thought she might be "a little bit pregnant". Well, it turned out to be a false alarm, just one of those irregular period incidents (I warned her about playing field hockey!), but I did get her back a bit for stopping my heart there for a second or so. This occurred just before Christmas break, and while she was home with her parents, I sent her a "Mother To Be" greeting card...Hey, even in the most potentially frightening situations, my twisted sense of humor rarely deserts me.

Something I Read Someplace

...along with my accompanying commentary (in italics)

"So I end with the reminder that marriage is not mainly about staying in love. It's about covenant keeping. And the main reason it is about covenant keeping is that God designed the relationship between a husband and his wife to represent the relationship between Christ and the church."

Well, I think what she’s getting at here is the notion that “Happily ever after” doesn’t mean “deliriously happy every moment of every day”. Brings to mind G.K. Chesterton’s great quote about the prince and princess living happily ever after…even though they likely occasionally threw dishes at each other. He also said something else, something or other about marriage being a perpetual crisis supported by a foundation of comfort. Possibly one of the few bright observations I ever made during my marriage was the confession, “Here’s the thing – I love you even when I don’t like you one little, flippin’ bit.” The commitment’s the thing, the faithfulness even during the “or worse” parts.

"This is the deepest meaning of marriage. And that is why ultimately the roles of headship and submission are so important. If our marriages are going to tell the truth about Christ and his church, we cannot be indifferent to the meaning of headship and submission."

We probably don’t think about this enough. In fact, I’m sure we don’t, and that goes a long way toward explaining the sorry state of marriages these days. It is really – if you do stop and really think about it – quite an incredible miracle that God managed to make it so that the fundamental relationship between man and woman is, indeed, a reflection of the fundamental relationship between God and mankind.

"And let it not go without saying that God's purpose for the church-and for the Christian wife who represents it-is her everlasting holy joy. Christ died for them to bring that about."

I could scribble ten more pages just on this bit alone. But I’m just going to select a couple of things to mention. First, one of the (ten thousand) things that drives me absolutely up the flippin’ wall is the failure of men to understand this bit at all. If you’ve got half a brain (unfortunately, most men don’t), then it ought to be crystal, blinding clear to you that if a woman submits herself to you, she’s submitting herself, ultimately, to your care. You’re responsible for her, in the same way that Christ accepts that “willing to die for” responsibility for the Church. She is trusting you in the same way that you’re supposed to trust God – that is, she’s taking the incredibly daring step of having faith that if she listens to you, then she will be wonderfully all right. And that trust places on you a responsibility that, frankly, ought to frighten the hell out of you, time to time. Yes, it’s great to have a live-in cocktail waitress (at least, I know I enjoy it), but that’s not what it’s bloody about. It’s about rescuing the princess from the dragon – the “dragon”, in this instance, being all the myriad horrors of this life. John Eldredge wrote something that I hope I never forget – “Every man needs an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue. And every woman needs a dream to share, and a prince to rescue her.” And if you can’t understand that that is an infinitely more important, fulfilling, and downright happy-making notion than just the idea of getting your cock sucked on a regular basis…well, you’re a Goddamned fool.

my not-so-humble opinion,
Jack

"Beat Me, Hurt me, Show Me You Care"

I'm old enough to remember when, if you discovered a girl who liked being spanked, you'd tumbled across someone that your friends would describe as "kinky", or, at minimum, "hot". But nowadays I find it difficult to even meet a girl anywhere (okay, not that I'm trying that hard) who doesn't ardently desire to be spanked, whipped, "punished", generally debauched and degraded, and all as an essential part of a "romantic" relationship.

One can't help but wonder (Can one?) about the rise of this social/psychological phenomenon. I mean, it must mean something, mustn't it? It can't simply be an accidental thing. There must be something in the evolution (and I do not in any way mean to equate that term with "progress forward") of our society that has led to this outbreak of women desiring painful pleasure.

I can only offer the most modest of guesses, but here it is. I believe that our society - especially in terms of relationships between men and women - has suffered an essential fracture of sorts, and that this breakage has resulted in both men and women suffering ever-increasing emotional frustration. All the various elements of this "fracture" are too numerous, and too complex, to go into here, but I'll just offer a quick notation of one: "Feminism", while it may have opened a few employment doors, has most assuredly not led to the goal of more overall societal satisfaction for women. If anything, it's had the opposite effect - burdening more and more women with the arduous task of being a single mother, and creating men so "sensitive" that they just make you want to throw up. And thus, I think at least a part of this is just a collective scream on the part of women for the bygone days when men were like Hemingway and Humphrey Bogart, a sort of ultra-frustrated cry of, "Jesus - Will you stop being such a weenie, and just club me over the head and rape me?"

And (I could be wrong about this next part, but Christ, what's the likelihood of that?) I also think there's a yearning on the part of women to be "taken". For all the glorifying of the single life, I believe the vast majority of women still ultimately desire the comfortable confines of marriage, family, and something called a "home" (not just a swanky midtown apartment). For that matter, I'd say the same applies to men. You live alone for awhile, being "owned" starts to look like not such a terrible alternative.

Well, I could go on, but I've no doubt that I've already said enough to start several enthusiastic fights. Let's be polite in our outraged screaming, all right?