So I’m waiting on the next blog post to update, but it anit happening. I can one, either get really mad and yell at people or, two, WHAT THE FUCK IS HOLDING THINGS UP!?!! GET YOUR SORRY ASS OVER THERE AND START FIGURING IT OUT!
Okay, yeah, whatever.
BDSM Article, for you.
Being a submissive is possibly the most honest thing I do.
Not very long ago, I acted on an urge that had been quietly threading itself throughout my being. I faced fears that had been hauntingly insurmountable all of my life.
I went Into The Attic.
I was not such a brave, free spirit that I did so without extensive (see: terribly obsessive) research. I read every single blog post, looked at every model… I wanted to know who it was that I was going to allow to completely control me. To direct me, to see all of my flaws and to see how I act when all of my learned behaviors are stripped away to instinct. That’s a beautiful thing, being so naked. Experiencing yourself not only without clothes, but without control, dignity, familiarity. But I digress…
I felt overwhelming nausea on the car trip there, for my first shoot. I had no idea that I was on the cusp of one of the most important events of my life to date.
I got to the shoot location, and, after about five minutes of staring at the door, knocked.
I was greeted with a smile and ushered inside. He talked to me in a calm, mesmerizing drawl that made me wonder how He would segue into what was showcased on the site– such a raw, powerful, intimate look at what is hiding beneath the surface of so many girls.
Soon enough I was being led around to get pictures taken, to get the signature Interview. I couldn’t stop talking, asking questions, pointing out things I knew (or thought I knew). Everything was eerily calm– all smiles and quiet voices and thoughtful gestures. That, I think, is where the tension started to grow inside my mind. I knew that something was coming, but not what. It was like walking into a pitch-black room with your hand outstretched: you hope for a smooth wall beside you, but deep down you fear that you will touch a monster.
Soon enough, it was time to get behind the camera and actually do what I had come to do– to stretch out my hand in the dark and see what was there.
The segue? It happened.
When I heard my name come out of His mouth, something started to change– I was no longer what I pretended to be when going to the grocery store, or when at my day job, or around the in-laws. I could feel that slowly, all of what I had made myself into– every piece of me that I had chosen to accentuate or hide when I presented “me” to the world– was going to be tested. I was going to be tested.
I heard the words, “Let’s get started.” My stomach knotted. I paid rapt attention to everything He did.
He left, moving where I couldn’t see Him. I felt my curiosity morph into a mixture of delight and fear. He was letting it sink in, giving me a few moments to ruminate on whatever I chose: the pain of the ropes around me, the awkward, undignified way I was exposed, why I was even in there…
I heard Him whistling, the cracking of a whip, the loud clanging of things. I heard the boot-clad thumping of His footsteps– the noises He made startled me– I knew He was priming me for when He came back. Every noise told me that things were different now, and that sort of communication was something that I wholly did not expect. It was so clear without words, I just knew.
When He came back into view, it was done. Nothing was clothed in the sugary falsehood of everyday living, of trying to be acceptable even if it means being someone less than yourself– that was cast aside. Now it was time to see what was left. What was I made of? He wanted to see.
Different positions, tools, punishments, rewards, orgasms (which can be punishment or reward, I found out…) passed, and I found myself sobbing, giggling, moaning, whimpering, and everything in between.
His expectations are high. He always illuminates the fact that– in everything– I have a choice. If I’m in pain and I feel my limits approaching, I can choose to buckle under the weight of responsibility, to retreat into a place that I think will offer me something nicer– or I can transcend that. I can calm my self down, suck it up, and endure. If you make the latter choice just once, you are always going to remember it. It will change you, you will have a knowledge of yourself that is deeply powerful. You will think of that feeling the next time you are faced with the challenge of pain.
I was introduced to someone that I have had the great pleasure of getting to know better– me. Who I really am when it comes down to it, when I have nothing else but endurance.
Where WAS I all this time?! I have found in me a much more amazing person than I could ever craft, one that is profoundly strong, one that I now know there is no shame in hiding, no guilt to be had for embracing. I will not go back. I will love who I am when I’m shaking the very chair I’m tied to, when I’m at the last bit of my limits (the ones that are really only dictated by my mind), when I am being challenged on every level. I will embrace that, because nothing is more true to me.
Bondage, for me, is intoxicating. I don’t drink, smoke, party, do any sorts of drugs… but this, wow. I can think of no better high than three feet from the ground with the cutting embrace of those ropes. What better relaxation than surrender? That moment when you know another snap of the whip is coming? Amazing.
I owe a huge, gushing thanks to the lovely Attic folks: for going above and beyond the call of duty– in more ways that I can count; for giving me the best introduction to the BDSM world a girl could ever hope for; and for listening to me ramble and geek out about all of the cool things I read on the Blog. Your patience and advice has been invaluable, and I promise to bake cookies next time!
With much love,
Naomi
…and if I find her addressing me as “He” again, versus “he”, I’m going to beat the Holy Shit out of her.
I really have a good life with her. We do all the things every “normal” couple does. Shopping, the grocery store, shitting in the toilet. I’d even go so far to say that she pampers me. She looks out for me in the ways I fail, she always reaches for me in the night when I come to bed. Without fail, she moans the pleasure, even vibrates. She gives me confirmation without me asking or without, I believe, her even knowing it. She is proactive in my life, she loves my animals, she engages me every morning, she insits on being a part of me.
She repeatedly request that I join her at her shoots. She tells me in no uncertain terms that she prefers me at her side.
She doesn’t care if I’ve shit myself or smell like roses. She dresses with style and down home cuteness. Her panty and sun dress collection would blow your mind, I dress like a slob and can never remember to zip up my pants.
When I wake in the morning she is there. She is herself; nude, tiny and full of life. Always bright, always receptive, always ready to live the moment; she just assume brush my dogs in the back yard upon waking as hit a thrift store or catch “breakfast”. Her outlook, her stance, her approach reflect this. She never denies me.
Like me, in spite of what you read here, she is very private. Her attention is gratuitous when she trust you.
…but you do have to live with the fact that she fucks other men. Fucks them on camera. Fucks them in front of people.
You need to reach inside and find yourself.
It almost seemed liked she would fly right off the stool. Svelte and light, she needed to be captured.
So I did. Stripped her down to her panties, chained her to the brick wall out back and left her awhile. Left her while I went and collected some of Elise Graves’ shoes for her to clean….
…but she failed in everything she did.
So after hosing her down and letting her go to the bathroom I had one last task for her…
…cleaning up dog shit in the backyard.
It was clear from her email that she was far more pure than the typical respondent. So pure, so naive and so innocent –even gullible– that she would be, if I had her in, a girl far unlike any ever seen here at The Attic.
From her application…
Comments : I’m completely new to the BDSM world, but I’m a hard worker and will try my best to push my limits and do what you want.
If you need me to lose weight or get new hair/make up I’ll totally undersand and I’d be happy to apply at a later date if I’m not good enough yet.
Thank you so much!
I followed up with some information and questions. Her first reply was lengthy, so, in part, here are salient portions:
I feel like I just got acccepted into a Club For Awesomeness. Thank you so much for replying quickly– I was holding my breath about it!
I’ve looked through the entire model pages, and am slowly going through each entry in your blog (I got two years to catch up on, and you wrote quite a bit in that span of time!). I find your blog to be the most insightful, honestly. Also, it makes me hungry. Stop taking such nice pictures of all that food. Grr.
Four hours for a shoot– would I be allowed to go to the bathroom and get a sip of water if I needed to? I’ve never done this sort of thing so I’d like to apologize in advance for my dumb questions.
I’ve had very little in-the-field experience with being tied up. I asked my husband to try that sort of thing and he did, but I wiggled halfway out and played with myself when he left me alone for too long. Then he just sort of was like “oh, okay. Well. Hum.” And it’s really hard for me to get submissive if I have to direct how things are going to go– I overthink and stress out and can’t let go.
So long as I know you aren’t going to HARM (different than hurt, I stress) me, I should be fine with what you’ll be doing.
Again, never tried humiliation play, or uh, pretty much any type of play. Husband occasionally tries to verbally uh… play? He’ll say things like “Oh, do you like that?” or ask me if I want more, or condescendingly observe if I like something a lot. I know you’re playing a wholly different field of experiences at The Attic, so as long as it’s okay (as in, you can sell the product) to look completely ugly/humiliated/disgraced on camera, I’ll do my best for you.
Luther I’m worried about– if you still decide to use me I’ll probably want to wait a little bit so I can practice at home– I have a terrible gag reflex and have no idea what I look like while giving head. I have a pretty thick (though not very long) dildo and a full length mirror– I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out before I take on Luther. Does effort count, or just how much I can down?
Miscellaneous question time!
Is it okay if I tremble? When I’m scared/nervous I tremble. Like, chihuahua without a sweater tremble. I do it before a shot, before the dentist, before a big test– am I going to be a bother if I’m like that?
Will I be in trouble if I arrive early? I am really ridiculous about not being late to things, so sometimes I end up arriving half an hour early– will you slash my tires if I’m sitting in my car for a half hour ’cause I was paranoid about being late?
If I’m early, can I stretch before we go into tying me up? Not on working time of course, but you won’t send me packing if I’m in your driveway trying to loosen up my back?
While you’re shooting (I think you guys shoot the part where you’re getting the rope work all situated? Before all of the actual like, spaking, gagging, etc. goes on? Just the long process of making knot after knot…?) is it okay to talk? I talk when I’m nervous, so I’m sure it won’t be long until you’ll be gagging me out of annoyance anyway…
In the Interview shot, should I ask nitty-gritty questions (”Is it okay of I giggle if you tickle me with the rope or is that bad?” “If I do a good job can I pet Victor?” “What IS a TENS unit?”) Or should I just shoot you another email with any questions I think up?
Will there be any actual testing (like how hard you’ll be spanking etc.) before the shoot? Do you film that part as well?
If I am horrible at the shoot, can I make it up by helping clean up and put things away and bleach the set? I shovel cow pies REALLY well, I’m happy to help out if I’m no good as a model.
Should I be wearing make up at all? I don’t wear any in real life, but I’m assuming you want some so I’m pretty enough to shoot? I know you don’t want heavy stuff, but when I show up I don’t want to be looking bad either way. In that vein, you want me to wear nice clothes– like a dress, or like a nice blouse with jeans? I know you hate ugly shoes.
And lastly, would I be able to come in as a Good Girl for my first shoot? Is there anything that borders between all-out Bad Girl (where you come home with bruises and welts and ate food that had been stored in your nether regions?) and Good Girl (where you come home having been only tied up?) Would I be wasting your time if I wanted to just try being spanked and gagged and tied up? Should I just wait and try for when I can do all the stuff your girls can do?
I am SO sorry for the length of all this. I need to learn that “elaborate” is not sanctioning a novel.
I’m nervous and willing to try most stuff, have no experience, and when can I start?
Sincerely,
Naomi
I believe in God like I believe in the sun, not because I can see it, but because of it all things are seen.
— C.S. Lewis
HOLY SHIT. I did not reply to it for a couple of weeks. But in that interim her husband wrote to me as well, on her behalf:
Hey my name is xxxx my wife Naomi recently applied for your modeling gig I just wanted you to know how much it means to her, she told me you accepted her application, she is so excited she has always wanted to do bondage I just have no experiance in it and was wondering if after the shoot maybe you could send some Fantasie scripts and how toos on the knots you use maybe if you have a workshop the enrolment info thanks again love your work. -xxxx xxxxxxxx
I had her come in to see us.
She has to be kept this way. She is unable to control her urges, her needs. The feeling constant, it wells up in her brain and makes it’s way to her cunt. She’s always on Go, stimulated, wet. The whole of her body seethes. Her cunt is moist, her cunt leaks incessantly. She is a child of her imagination, a slave to her desires.
Her body is vibrating.
The bonds she wears at all times prevent her from becoming soiled. They keep her as fresh as possible –in terms of usability. If she cannot touch herself, if she cannot please or soil herself, nor satisfy then I know the moment I’m ready for her her organs will be primed.
She sleeps, breathes and eats bondage. Everything in her life is sexual. Everything can be eroticized. If it were not for the bonds about her, if she were not kept in a way that prevented her access, she would be unusable.
I own her.
This is what happens when you can’t find the key to the metal collar which has a human neck stuck through it attached to a wire frame bed –and the house is on fire.
She is one of my favorite chicks to have Into The Attic. She’s a giver for sure, but she’s also wholesome and fresh. She embodies the girl-next-door. Or does she? Turns out, to my and everyone else’s dismay, she dances at a local titty club (not that there’s anything wrong with working at a titty bar). To my dismay because when you meet her, when you speak with her, when you learn the type of life she leads it doesn’t make sense that she’d be doing a gig at a titty bar –it just doesn’t seem to fit her. At least, that’s how we felt. Granted, she did just start working at the club the day she showed up for her first shoot. Give it a little thought and the reasons for it are obvious –but still– I’d rather go along pretending she works at Starbucks or something.
At any rate, I thought I’d give her another chance at sucking some cock.
She was very successful at milking that cock right into her face. Bravo.
When she had a nose hook installed she asked out loud: How does anyone find this attractive?!
Trust me, she didn’t have a lot more to say after that.
