photography, Kitti, art, me, kink

Kitti, the Unstoppable Hex Machine

...and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries...

Lazarus
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
It's possible that I'm digging so fervently that I'm just digging a hole around myself.

All I want is to submit. All I want is to be something to some powerful creature. All I want is to be the object of someone's desire and sadism. I just want to be used, and I love the scars that R gave me, but I just wish J would contact me.

Once. he told me that he wanted me to live with him eventually. He met me in person, and he decided to take me home with him that night. In the morning, he gave me money for my travel home, and I never heard from him again. Perhaps all he wanted was to fuck me and now he's out. If that's the case, then he is a fucking coward. The least he could do is tell me he doesn't want me.

I just want to submit. Is that really too much to ask?


Kit. xxx

Reform
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
Wolfie and Fayth want me back.

If ever there were boundary pushers, it's them. They are the coolest married couple in the world. They are both so beautifully sick and sadistic, and what's sicker is that once, Adrian and I had planned a life together (which I subsequently FUBARed). I used to be his "princess", now Fayth is his Dark Queen, and he called me up to watch her abuse me.

It was awesome when we used to play, but I haven't seen them for over a year, (that was when I ran from the scene) now they want me back again, and I'm almost certain I want them back too. Especially Fayth. She is one of those very rare women to whom I actually enjoy submitting, she is just so beautiful and so dark and twisted. She is ten times better than I am, fifty times.

This is pretty crazy. My mind is racing, after the hell of last night, and now this.

I really hope I don't freak out on them too.

Kit. xxx

"The Lowest"
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
Last night, he shattered me with his words.

"You have the lowest pain threshold of any sub I've ever met".

Ever?! He's 47. I can't stop turning it over and over in my head and wrenching my heart out again each time. I thought I was doing better. Before, I only saw pain as an attachment to submission; I dealt with it because it was my duty as a sub to make my Dom happy. I never enjoyed pain. Now I'm starting to, I'm craving it and I want to build my threshold up more and more until I can have salt rubbed into my wounds and keep smiling. I'm doing this for myself now, not just for the attention of men that will never love me, so why is it so hard?

Maybe he just said it because he wanted to hit me where it really hurts. Maybe he really meant it though. If I really have the lowest threshold ever, why has he been back for more so many times? Probably it wasn't me he wanted, it was Brighton. Now I'm not there anymore, my allure has worn off.

He didn't seem to understand that I haven't been played with properly for about a year. He also didn't understand that I need to build this up gradually if I'm going to become perfect. I need to be trained. One doesn't build a house starting from the roof - foundations must be built, floors and walls set in just the right places to support the roof. If one of the supporting walls isn't constructed properly, the house will fall down.
Last night, he demolished my house.

I would have been able to stand it, if there had been something, anything before he concentrated all his force on my ass. The spanking was one thing, making me thrash and cry, but then he got the cane out. The thinnest one; the one that hurts me most. My fight kicked in and I couldn't let him hit me with it, not on the ass, so I shouted and ran away from him. I told him "no" and "stop" about 15 times before he asked if I was really serious. I grabbed my dress and put it on. I cried continually for 3 hours; all the time he spoke to me; all the time packing up my stuff in the hotel room; all the time in the car while he drove me home; all the time making his coffee; all the time drawing him a map so he could get the fuck away from me. I continued to cry until I fell asleep. Alone, in my own bed, with my Mother asleep in the next room.

About 10 seconds after he stopped trying to hit me, I was ready for the pain. The thing was, that by that point, he had decided he couldn't hurt me. He told me he was still in love with his ex girlfriend and he felt terrible doing things to me. I am almost certain he's a big liar. I emasculated him, and he didn't feel like he was more powerful than me anymore. The really fucking stupid thing is that if he had played in the style that I remember from our times in Brighton, none of this would ever have happened. Before, he used to work me up to the cane, have me suck him at first, slap my face, that kind of thing. I know I could take the cane on my back, if I was giving him head at the same time. Something about giving head just calms me, I feel like I'm completely at home when I'm doing it; it feels like I belong to that person, and I'm pleasing them to the upmost. The cane is the hardest limit I have. I'm totally phobic of them, but I think I could deal with being caned whilst giving head. None of this was talked about, and that was my fault. If I'd said any of this before arranging to meet him, maybe it would have been different.

All I want is to eliminate my limits and fears. I don't understand how he can profess to be my friend, as well as a Dom and a sadist, and not want to help me do this. Now I'm back to square one, trying to find suitable Doms. If I was still in Brighton, I could go and see Jon, the dirty yank. From here, it would cost me £60 for train fare and a hotel, and I dont have that.

Guess I'll just wait, wander, and see what finds me. It's always been ok before. Until I find someone good enough I still have my blades, needles, and Mr. Thuddy. I also have NMA, Death in Vegas, The Stooges, Beethoven, Manson, and many many others to serenade me and nurture me in the absence of a suitable Dom.

Memento Mori

Kitti. xxx

Craven
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
Currently addicted to this:




I also find myself plagued by wolves. Well, maybe "plagued" isn't the right word... perhaps "surrounded" would be better. All of them calling me, occaisionally, to kneel before them and become enshrouded as they howl their laments to the moon, before savaging me. Sometimes I have this deep longing to be allowed into thier packs, but then I remember that I can only function as an island.

What I really crave is true pain. True servitude. Not just mistreatment for the sake of it, or because I asked for it, or even because I need it to remind me what life is; but for the true and twisted pleasure of another. I'm beginning to come round to the idea of "love" again, but I'm almost certain I could only ever love myself, no matter how much I want to belong to a Master, lupine or otherwise. I must remember at all times that I am an island, and that's the only way I'll be safe. Letting some sediment wash away in the tide occaisionally is all well and good, but I can't allow the ocean to claim me fully. The last time, it almost killed me.

What I need is LoveHate. Adoration of Him and hatred of myself when we're together, and vice versa when I'm alone. I think I can train myself into this, it would suit my situation better than calling the name of a Master who may not even exist.
Correction: Doesn't exist.


and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.

Kit. xxx

Pathways
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
He is racing through my brain, constantly. I try to focus on other things but his memory, his words, and his deeds will not leave me. My logic tells me I should not let emotion interfere after a single night, but my emotion overpowers me logic. This has not happened to me for a very long time.... in fact, the last time I was faced with this was with Adrian. My first real Master. The big difference with Adrian was that he pushed and pushed for me to become his slave, and I resisted as long as I could. Now I feel this deep, pathetic longing to be clasped, bleeding, in the jaws of my new wolf... but I know I must be cautious, if for no other reason that if I get all stalkery I might scare him away.

O, what a noble mind is here oerthrown! The courtiers, soldiers, scholars, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, the glass of fashion and the mould of form, the observed of all observers quite quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and retched, that suck'd the honey of his music vows, now see that noble and most sovereign reason, like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh; that unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth blasted with extasy; O, woes is me, to see what I have seen; see what I see!

I often liken myself to Ophelia. If not for the false attentions, and subsequent withdrawals of such by Hamlet, she would never have gone mad and drowned herself. I'm not saying that a Dom is making me mad, but I do feel similar sometimes. All I want to do is be at His feet, and take whatever he can throw at me. I have tried so hard to forget, even turn my attention to the countless other Doms that are offering countless other things to me, but I just can't stop thinking about him... and because I can't get him out of my head, I feel some bizarre sense of loyalty to him.

I have two choices:

* I get out of this while I still have logic left. A man with this kind of control over me without him even trying is a dangerous thing, especially if he only wants me as a plaything and not a real slave.

* Hold my breath and jump. Forsake all others, and make the best effort I can to please him, during the little time we may have together. Keep my feelings to myself until I can't bear to any longer, and then just let the chips fall where they may.

So... stay safe, lonely, and boring; or jump with the knowledge that it could kill me.

I know what I want to do... but that and what I am most likely to do are two different things.

I would die a thousond times, for one more hour at his mercy.

Kit. xxxx

Sunday Night Impulse
Purple
grittikitti
I held off showering for as long as I could today.
I wanted his sweat to stay on me for as long as possible. I wanted the blood from my right nipple to stay encrusted on my skin. All these things are little physical reminders of my reawakening.

I was afraid to embrace my demons again, I guess I was most afraid of doing it alone, and having to fight for myself, and hide my views, my beliefs, and my fantasies. I was afraid of not being understood, or even just accepted by those I chose to give myself to. He's changed all that. Just a few hours at His feet has brought my beast back to life. I crave pain like I used to; I remember wanting Him to go harder, to rip me up and break me... although I knew last night there was no time to fully explore anything like that.

Every time I catch my peircing it bleeds again, and I can't help but close my eyes and smile the hugest smile as I remember His big hands, fingernails digging into my breast; and His teeth almost gnawing my nipple off. He tells me He wants to drink me, feed from me... and I don't remember a time that I felt so lucky, and so alive.

All I'm afraid of now is not having more time with Him. We both have lives and responsibilities, His are generally more time consuming, as well as more important than mine. I still feel His hand around my throat; His rope; His breath close to my face as he whispers beautiful profanities; His teeth... He could rip off chunks of my flesh and have me begging for more in between my screams.

I am so hungry for the pain; the control; the mindfuck. I am SO back. Hit me. Harder.

Kitti. xxxx

On Death and Dying
Self
grittikitti
Moving away from the ocean hasn't diminished the call.

All I seem to crave is pain, complete and total, self-indulgent abuse; self, or otherwise. No day has passed in which I haven't dreamed of passing into sweet eternal sleep. I know that when this happens, it will not be my choice, even if it is at my own hand that my life ends. Currently I'm still needed here, so I have no choice but to hang on and wait to be rewarded.

I've become almost completely disinterested in human interaction and sex, unless coupled with a decent helping of abuse from someone tall, strong, and articulate. I have begun a love affair with extremely sharp things, as well as rope, again. I'm planning on buying some heavy chain when I can get hold of some cash, and seeing what kind of colours I can turn my flesh.

I'm also becoming increasingly disgusted with myself. My body hair is promptly shaved at least every other day, although in a bizarre contradiction I'm growing out my undercut. We'll see how long it gets over Autumn and Winter, maybe I can have proper hair again and maybe I could look a little less conspicuous? More and more every day, I want the plebs, work, etc to pay less and less attention to me... I'm also craving attention from the select few people I can stomach (mostly the afforementioned tall, dark sadists)


It never goes away, you know. The call of the ocean, just begging me to walk right into her folds and fade away into her freezing blackness.

That would be too easy though, wouldn't it?
A wise Master of mine once remarked that any easy task will never reap any good reward.

Kit. xxxx

Scratch
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
OHMYFUCKINGGODPLEASESOMEBODYPLAYWITHMEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I am in deperate need of good, hard session with someone inventive in a twisted kinda way. Preferably with a deep and dark voice, but it's not essential. I.Just.Need.To.Be.Used.

Srsly. I'm not sure I've ever been like this before. There has always been somebody nearby to scratch my itch... what's wrong with this stupid town?!

Pain. Painpainpainpainpain. Pleeeeeease xxx

Lone
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
It's becoming somewhat of an obsession now.

On Saturday, I had my first taste of play for over a year. that's all it was though - a taste. It was beautiful, sound, and fleeting, as these things usually are. A moment is all we can expect from perfection.

Now, though, I find myself hungry for more of the same, and my star candidate is nowhere to be found. I wonder if he's found some other messy goth girl to take over. I felt like we had a huge amount in common, an actual connection, but I'm not stupid enough to think that means anything to him. No contact generally means something a lot more interesting than me is going on. I know I should just forget him and carry on, meet people... but something in me feels like I need to stay loyal to this one man. A man I've never met in the flesh, just a photograph and a voice, and somehow I feel like I should stay true. I know that this is an incredibly tragic and dumb thing to be thinking, but I can't seem to help it. I am infatuated with a voice that exists now only in my memory, and that I may never even hear again, let alone get to associate it with a body; or touch; or anything.

I've not been a romantic for years. What on earth is happening in my brain?


The crazy thing is, that despite all this, I have this rising longing to be pushed again. Whipped, especially. I know that this is something I need, but without a suitable mentor, I've no idea how I can learn to withstand pain, or to submit properly. I feel like I'm 13 again, it's so biazrre. I'm this little girl, alone in my room with my mood-altering substances, wishing for someone to rescue me. My memories and my music haunt me, I remember the first man that difiled me... and the first that I gave myself to, willingly. I remember the first time I truly loved, like it would break me if she wasn't near, and very nearly did. I remember knowing that I would die willingly on my Master's sword, if he ordered it. I remember my reckless heart and instict controlling my decisions and my entire life. I remember living below the breadline, and not caring because I was with my Master. I remember selling myself just so that we could survive, and how it was ultimately our undoing.


Perhaps someone will find me, soon.

xxx

Use
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
grittikitti
This morning, I awoke calling for my Master.
I haven't had a Master for years. I didn't even think it would be possible for me to trust anyone enough to let them collar me again. If I'm collared, I want my Master(s) to know everything about me, I want to have given myself totally and completely to them, and it's not fair to pretend I've done that when I can't.


So, what do I do? Do I actively start telling people that I'm looking to be owned now and not just casual? How would that change the way Doms see me? They may just see me as easier, or more desperate, so it could get me into trouble with some of the less savory ones. I wish that J and I had more contact with each other, I wish that we could meet. Since speaking to him over the phone, he seems to have reawakened my need to submit, just by pushing at my boundaries verbally... I really wish I could find out if he has the same effect physically, or will he just make me run away like I have done for years?


I remember M and K, and thier poly family... I remember S and T, the beautiful Artist couple who pushed me to create some of my best work yet. Both of those relationships I sabotaged. Not their relationships with each other, but my relationships with them. I sabotaged myself because I got scared. I created reasons to be away from them, reasons to act up... all of them petty little things that I blew out of proportion in my head. If I allow a Dom/couple to get that close to me again, how do I know I'm not just going to ruin it again?


Maybe my mind is just another part of me that needs to be Dominated and controlled. Maybe I'll meet someone/people who have the ability and the skill to take me over completely. I know I don't want to hold back anymore. I want to give myself to a worthy party, someone who I know can push me until I break, and then keep pushing, until everything I fear is gone. I remember A, and living without fear... it used to be us against the world, plans of building our Family, our Army, running singing through the streets and fighting all the prejudice and hatred.. creating true freedom for ourselves, and everyone who joined us would belong to us and so become free too. Maybe it was an unattainable ideal, but isn't that what dreams are for?


Despite my histrionic tendencies, I still live for today, and always look to the future. I know now, for myself, that I need to be owned. I want more than anything to be part of a family again, even if it's a family that my Master and I have started.

Or.. perhaps this longing is my penance.

K. xx

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