Fiction: Mr Myrrh Made Me Write This

**Edited Dec 27, 2014: I've decided to just be myself and not hide behind a fictional character. I'm taking my name back. She'll come back under another name, I'm sure, because her story is rather interesting.**

Mr Myrrh asked me to write about some aspect of myself that I'm proud of. I had to think about that for a while. If you're like me, you'll know that it's a lot easier to think of things I'm NOT proud of.

But as I gather together little stories from my past and try to stitch them into some sort of narrative, I've become rather proud of the fact that I'm pretty accepting of other people and their "thing," whatever it is that motivates them or satisfies them. I'm not the judgmental sort.

That probably contributes to my easygoing, submissive personality -- it's a pleasure to be able to help other people get what they want -- but, at the same time, it hasn't often overridden my sense of self and what I want. I just think it's awesome that we all have these things about life, about other people, about ourselves, that turn us on.

Before I met Mr Myrrh I was heavily involved in the BDSM scene in Los Angeles (hah, I spelled "Lost" at first). I loved the parties not just for what they gave me -- the opportunity to share a part of myself I had kept hidden for so long -- but for what they showed me, the fantasies, the stories, each person brought with them.

While the experiences went a long way toward educating me about BDSM and my place in it, and it was where I met Dom Michael, the first to ever collar me, it was the scene as a whole that really floated my boat. Maybe I'm more of a voyeur than I'd like to admit, but seeing other people happy and excited went a long way toward making me feel happy and excited, too.

Some things were almost too heavy for me to watch, much less be involved in, like intense humiliation scenes or suspendings by piercings. Always, it was the attitude of the participants, either during or outside of the scene, that got me past my own adverse or negative reactions.

I'm reminded of Suzanne, who was nearly always self-assured, kind and more than capable of holding intelligent conversations when we met at munches. Holding on to that knowledge of her character somehow made it easier -- and hotter -- to watch when her mistress wrote filthy names all over her naked body in scarlet lipstick and ordered her to tell everyone how much of a slut she was. This was something she wanted. It fed her in some way. It seemed to liberate her to be that much more comfortable in her own skin outside of the scene. And I loved her for that, for knowing that about herself, for so shamelessly pursuing being shamed.

So that is what I'm most proud of, I think: my genuine happiness for other people when they get what they want.

Warmly,

Ms Myrrh