Libido: (from the Meriam-Webster dictionary). 1. : instinctual psychic energy that in psychoanalytic theory is derived from primitive biological urges (as for sexual pleasure or self-preservation) and that is expressed in conscious activity. 2. : sexual drive.

Libido drives us to action. Sometimes, it shows up in achieving academic excellence, crafting the perfect home life, running ultra marathons or other endorphin seeking pastimes. When libido is suppressed or ignored, it withers and fades away, leaving life a bit dull and tasteless.

But when a libido has been neglected to the point of near death — and has suddenly been reignited with a spark of flame — look out!

Wildfire, burning hot… No longer the backdraft of unresolved suffering, but a heat burning cleanly, clearing the path for energy and passion.

For a sub girl, it is a dangerous time, frighteningly intense. Sub frenzy we call it. It may take the form of overwhelming desire to fling oneself at the feet of one’s Master, begging to be used in any way he pleases. This phenomenon shows up in literature – Slave girl of gor, restrained in her tent, realizes she is not restrained to keep her from running away – there is nowhere to run to – but to keep her from going to the Master’s tent to beg for his attention to satisfy her own deep submissive need. In Story of O, when O is chained to her bed that first night she realizes that, with her hands restrained, ‘her lips, her burning lips were forbidden to her – and perhaps they were burning because she knew they were open to the first comer, to the valet Pierre, if he cared to enter.’ (That quote may not be 100% accurate, but it’s close.)

Ok, to be honest, I’m not quite that far gone. Thank goodness. But oh, my. I’m banking the fire to keep it from burning out of control. With that warmth –

~ I’m feeling more sensual than I have in just about forever. (Ok, ok, not forever. But a long time!) All kinds of throbbing and tingling going on over here. At some point, there will be more stories. Maybe something like this:

Her nipples hardened under his gaze. Since she was forbidden to wear a bra, it was immediately apparent that she was aroused, hard peaks visibly poking up under the silky top she wore. Embarrassed, she dropped her eyes.

He laughed. “Lift your shirt, please,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’re asking for the nipple clamps – practically begging, I’d say. But let me see.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but quickly thought better of it. Reluctantly, she raised her shirt so her breasts were fully exposed.

“Go ahead and take it off,” he said encouragingly. “You won’t need it for a while.”

Obediently, she pulled it over her head, folded it neatly, as she’d been trained to do, and set it aside. Her nipples were tingling, and her pussy was throbbing. Standing before him, wearing only a short skirt and thigh high stockings with garters, she was torn between feeling thrilled at what was about to happen and dreading the pinch of the nipple clamps.

“Hands behind your neck. Now,” he said, suddenly brusque. Quickly, she obeyed…

AND that’s enough of that. I can’t spend all my time sitting around writing erotica. But it’s nice to feel this alive.