I got a direct message on twitter asking me about my chosen name, Suffer My Desire.  They asked if I was a brutal, whip wielding dominatrix.

There simply is no easy answer to that question, because at times, I most certainly can be.  I glory in dishing out hardcore BDSM, and in my fantasy life, I would get to shoot for Divine Bitches, abusing and fucking men, in an incredible environment.

But that is one aspect of me.  There’s another that likes to feminize men, another that likes to cuckold them, another that likes to be worshiped, another that likes to form relationships, another that likes to nurture, etc, etc.

Just like a full cut diamond, I have many, many facets.  As do each of us.  The totality of me is not defined by a name or any of those facets in an isolated state.   So as much as I like to plunge a submissive down the icy depths of physical pain, I equally enjoy picking out new shoes for a cross dresser.

I think that suffering is something that is generally linked to our desires.  Rather than type out a lengthy manifesto on the why of that, I’ll just give the nickle version…everything in life has a price.  To pay that price usually requires some form of suffering, though it may not be martyrdom type of suffering.

It can be the type of suffering which simply means that you feel something very keenly.  And that, class, is what I want from you…I want you to feel.  It can be joy, pain, arousal, reverence…any combination of those things, or something entirely different.  But I want you to quiver with the passion of feeling, and I want you to feel alive again, reborn through the fog of complacency.

I want you to experience pleasure, then I want the pendulum to swing, and I want you to suffer.

For me.