The Beauty Of Destruction

There are times when Master and I don’t know where to stop. Perhaps he knows still better than I do. In our BDSM-relationship, there exist points of safe return. Sometimes we cross them. I don’t know why exactly. For me, the boundaries can always be stretched. I know that if I have a run, I would accept anything, even the dirtiest, most degrading tortures and degredations. Afterwards, I often feel ashamed and dirty, but during the games, I like it. Even more, I crave it. By the way, of course I do know that calling what we do a game is a sort of avoiding. I pretend that all I let do to myself is done in good fun. That’s dangerous, and if I did not have such a responsible Dom, I guess it already might have come to a bad end for me. Sometimes my self-disgust is that serious that I’d let myself torture and kill. I have already written about my insane dream of making the final gift of love to John: my life. I would. But I hopefully will never come to that point!

Yesterday I went to see W. We had planned to make a ritual for one of his Loas and Lord Shiva by long distance, concerning the more destructive aspects of them. To be honest, that’s Lord Shivas aspect I fear most. I have barely touched it yet. I fear that if I deal with it too often or too intense, it might overwhelm me and lead to a more self-destructive way of living. So, I had an unpleasant feeling when we started, even with W at my side. We had talked about the option to stop the ritual in case of emergency, but to be honest, by all I know about Lord Shiva so far, there is no escape from what he wants to put you through. I really see him like a sort of Dom. He’s loving, but he has this (very attractive) dominant, sadistic side, and if you let him, he puts you through hell, just to lift you up again and leave you happy like never before and quite irritated about your mental health LOL

To honour the destructive side, we had prepared meat as a sacrifice. In my everday life, I see meat as something Master obviously savours, and I’m ok with preparing it for him. But having raw meat in front of me for over two hours and honoring it as a symbol of destruction…uhm, that’s a horse of another colour.

We made a shamanic journey to the deities we worked with to get to know more about their and our own destructive side. No surprise, Lord Shiva showed up clad in a suit, smoking a cigar. Ugh. Can you be sexually attracted by a God? I honestly feel this thought is a sacrilege and try to see it as an expression of my hypersexual thinking, but yes, he was hot. And a kind of demonic, I guess. I don’t want to share what he told and showed me, but it seems I found out more about my destructive side than about his. He provided me with a task: practicing coming back from self-destructive thinking and acting in games, like following a trace back into a loving self-perception, over and over again. I asked him, how I should do it, but he just smiled faintly and replied “practice!”.

Later, when W and I sat together and talked it over, he said in his opinion Lord Shiva just demanded me to be my own guide into and out of misery. Well, yes. That’s the point. I have no idea how to look at myself more lovingly when I have that destructive drive.

When I came home, Master was already there and had a pot of milk pudding bubbling on the oven. We kissed and talked about of how our day had been, while he kept stirring and putting sugar, soy cream and peanut butter into the mixture. It was only when he added another spoonful of sugar to his pudding, when I asked what that was for. “For you, honey” he winked. I wanted to back-talk, but he just smiled faintly. “Just shut up, undress and put that feeding gag into your mouth. I’ll be with ya in a minute” he said in a sweet and dangerous tone that immediately got me aroused and hoping for the worst.

I spent the next two hours bound to our bed and being fed with that sugary, fatty pudding, being slapped hard and relentlessly fucked until Master fed me his jizz for dessert. Later, when I took a shower to get rid off the pudding that got lost in my hair, I kept asking myself, where I could start practicing coming back to a more loving self-perception. So, I went down where John lounged around the couch and came to his lap. Kissing could be a start, I hope.  I really don’t know how to resist destruction if it hurts so good.


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