I supposed the people and things on this site do a pinned post.
A Handler, but not your Handler. Alter to a system that, much to my chagrin, includes a hound. Rather new to personhood, though I suppose my host needed someone else to make the decisions.
27. She/Her, capitalised. My Lady or Ma'am to hounds. If you come to my blog expecting me to degrade you, take your leash or whatever else, you will leave disappointed.
I want to play with a couple where one is very clearly my pet/tool. I'll find somewhere nice to settle, with a perfect view of each so I can watch their expressions shift and change as the scene progresses.
"Take the crop. Strike the right shoulder. Again. Again."
"Scruff her throat and squeeze until I give the release command."
"Slower, neither of you are allowed to climax."
The scene will progress exactly as I set it out, with each partner slowly growing desensitized to who they're participating with. I want you to slowly forget who this person under you is, as you start to think of yourself as less of a person.
"Bite, harder."
"Slap it. Again. Again. Again."
Not a person any longer, not a partner, but a tool. Maybe a doll I'm pressing to another in a mockery of playing house. Or maybe I've worked you up into the mindset of a feral dog that knows nothing but teeth and claws and has a sick obsession for the whimpers of the prey animal under you.
I want to separate you from the feelings that keep you from hurting it.
Not for long, just a few breathless hours.
When you finally pull yourself out of the mindset, what will you feel I wonder? When you look back at the memories of the night, when you see the bruises on her body, when she flinches from your movements, will it be guilt that overwhelms you? Or will you find yourself finally able to indulge now that nothing is holding you back?
(If you would like to support my writing and help me relocate to a safer place I've included my cash app below or you can DM for my paypal)
it doesn't have an actual solution to this, but here's the scenario it sees playing out very frequently:
domme: I'm gonna tie you up and edge you til you can't think any more
sub: adfukdsagfdsaf please please please
domme: hehe it's so fun seeing you flustered
sub: ... so when are you going to do it?
domme: ... what?
and like, the keysmash rewards the flustering comment, and lets the domme off the hook for actually following through on her teasing, which is the phenomenon it's describing here.
window shopping rifles and wishing my Handler had more than a shoestring budget for fucking my brain up so I can have some fun toys to play with when I'm feeling understimulated
hi it's the miscling back again to ask for grocery and utilities money for this week. this week it's fundraising grocery money, but also there's bills and it's started organising the next big tnemm meetup. it needs to ask for £150 by the 20th july to cover necessary costs.
this thing is a disabled transfem community event organiser, managing a whole bunch of trans women, autism, unmedicated adhd, plurality, and a little physical disability. any help it gets would be greatly appreciated!
any support it gets is going to go towards its necessary costs, and anything beyond that is going to go into supporting its girls in tnemm and getting them to our meetups!
every non-switch domme has a domme-breaking kink because not one of them ever wants to believe that anyone else is better than them in any way, so every single one thinks they can break every other domme they come across
Hi! It's Lilac, resident t girl struggling to finish her final year of uni and waiting on benefits to come through. I've got a UC claim in the works, but until then I need to make rent, food, bills, the usual, and I'm on negative money.
I wish I didn't have to. I hate everything about this, but I need the help. I'm asking for a lot, I know. Every little helps.
Being a hound is both a punishment and an indulgence. I get to engage with and act on my rage, allowing the heat of combat to flush away my concerns and act on instinct, my only thoughts are of victory. To this end, She sharpens my mind so that strategy and technique become habitual, so that I do not forget them even as I forget myself. Accepting oneself as a hound also means accepting oneself as subhuman; this has humiliated me among others. This haunts me each time She has to put me in my place again, a reminder that being a hound is also a torment, that even if you excel, you are still beneath the heel of soldiers and civvies. You lack something fundamental, leaving you with feelings only She can relieve, it's why hearing sweet praise come from Her lips means anything at all. "Good hound" has become a sedative, replacing the torment with a relaxing anesthesia.
Guidance, direction and correction are the core benefits I have offered myself to my Handler for, as per our contract. In the most direct way, this is what I get out of being a hound. But I also get Her. She gives my life structure and meaning in serving Her, being Her hound has given me a standard to hold myself to. I won't lie, my feelings for Her have become a burgeoning obsession, and I find myself less resistant with each order I follow. Being a hound has revealed truths to me about myself that I could not see before, my independence seems further away than ever now, as I am reminded time and again that I need Her. In this sense, being a hound has taken from me too, my self-reliance, or perhaps the delusion that I alone could ever be enough. There's a conflict within me, being a hound has stripped me of the self I knew. I became Hers and allowed myself to be used so that I may use Her in turn, a stepping stone to become greater and better myself. I was so certain that I could one day graduate from being a mere hound to become a person, but now I'm not sure thats something I want, let alone could achieve. If being a hound gives me Her, then that may be enough.
What I want to get from being a hound is straightfoward enough. I want to indulge in rage and violence and be rewarded for it. I want to continue to sharpen my mind and toughen my body. I want Her. I want Her endorsement as I let loose, I want to get to fight for Her; to bask in the high of endorphins and adrenaline and then be praised by Her in the afterglow.
fuck if I'm so over answering questions, but I've gotta admit, that hound's handler sure likes to make us express ourselves.
What do you get out of being a hound?
so far? humiliated, brutalised, embarrassed, muzzled, raped, beaten, broken, punished, conditioned, catharsis, houndmates, and freedom to be fucking angry. I get to be embarrassingly edgy and play with guns and knives and dress like I wanted to when I was 20 but was too afraid of being cringe to pull off. I get to fight, put others beneath me, and lead the fucking pack because none of them can put me beneath them. I get to be the fucking best. I get to be me. I get to be Hers.
What do you want to get out of being a hound?
all of the above. I'm not a complicated thing. I want to fight, fuck, and fight some more. I want to be a dick, I want to resist, I want to be broken down and shaped so that when I rise again I'll never fall again. I don't have a long-term plan. that's Handler shit. what I want to get out of being a hound is to be something that makes my Handler proud to have me as Her weapon.
One thing I find is that dominance is resisted so much less with a little politeness. It takes so much sting out of an order to add a 'please' to the end of a command, but often ends with obedience regardless. It is necessary to also thank the agreeable party, otherwise they could well find themselves deciding to resist again and again.
A small politeness will even move other dominants to obey, convinced that they chose to give you what you asked for, and of course, they did- but you still set the tone and direction of travel.
Dominance is not about others obedience, but about control. Orders and commands are just one way to control others, a hard and strict way to lead, but soft control is also possible, and perhaps even preferable to demanding obedience from others.
Do not mistake soft control for soft domination. I will not mother or coddle submissives whose purpose is to serve Me. I will expect obedience, but I shall remain polite. The occasional please and thank you is good for morale!
kione is such a moron, dosing herself before dosing sartha. but dosing sartha and degrading it to brainwash it... I know what happened to me only a couple of weeks ago and the only thing missing was being high off my tits before I raped myself at Her order. She has ruined me, made me Her hound, made me cry in front of others, muzzled me, and installed Herself as my everything...
chapter 9:
it really is so easy to break someone. and the handler broke kione. I knew it was coming. kione wasn't in charge at any point in all that. everything she did to Pela went too far, tripped the part of sartha that was still a hero - no, tripped a part of her that the handler had set up way in advance. kione was never going to win.
chapter 10:
it's over. I knew kione was going to meet a bad end. Handlers always win, and kione was barely a handler. what gets me is that I'm sitting here knowing I've just had a 'service dog' patch sewn onto my flight suit, at my Handler's order. She has broken me down in so many different ways and I still crawl back to Her the same way I knew Sartha would always crawl back to her handler. it was all a part of the handlers plan, right from the beginning.
chapter 11:
I'm wearing a flight suit. there's a muzzle in reach. there's my service weapon. there's the book my Handler has me write reports for Her in. I am a mercenary, and I made my choice. I am a hound. not a handler, not a leader. I am a hound.
at some point we all face that choice. not that one specifically - the one between handler and hound - and the choice ends up being made for us. who we are is a product of what others make us.
afterthought: Leinth.
I can feel that blank spot in my brain where I can see how the handlers are operating, and the knowledge gets sucked out of me - it's not for me to know. I don't want to be a handler. I don't want to be a handler. I am a hound. everything about humiliation and degradation She uses to control me, everything about forgiveness and affection She holds over me... I am Her dog.
Leinth has that same abstraction. she can't see what I can't see. neither of us want to. it would make everything fall apart. that's what sets the handlers apart from the dogs.
yeah, I'm a massive fuckup and disappointment to my Lady, my houndmates constantly call me an asshole, bystanders call me a grumpy bitch, but I am the best at what I do.
everything I do is spectacular, from my successes to my fuckups, and you know what? I wouldn't be anywhere as interesting if not for my terminal main-character cringe-ass funny-bastard personality.
that's why I can take it. the degredation, the humilation, the muzzling, the punishment, the slaps across my face I can still feels days later. I can take a loss and bounce back because I know at my core a loss doesn't matter because I am still the fucking best.
I am a spectacular, disappointing failure, and I am still the fucking best.
ego is what makes a hound. not the clickers or the muzzles or strength or skill as a pilot or attention of a Handler. what makes a hound is the ego. the unshakeable belief that at our core is something greater and more powerful than anything else. something that makes us the best.
if you don't have that ego, you won't last. you won't be able to take it.
I am a good hound, even as a resistant, unruly dog.
