Saturday, February 27, 2016


Elsewhere that i may be because life rolls on and things change


Friday, February 26, 2016

What does that make me?

Sex that always involves some level of power exchange and pain, most often some sort of restraint, and often wicked toys makes me (makes us) kinky.

Routine beatings with canes and crops and hands and other hitty, hurty things makes us what - fetishists?  Sadist and masochist?   People with mutually satisfying paraphilias?

That he stops me mid-morning routine on a busy work day, when my mind is already out the door and at work, and he tells me he wants 30 minutes and I need to alter my plan and get my head in a different space; and i do, like it or not, with some effort but no argument; that makes me submissive? slave?

That he knows exactly when i need this, that he recognizes how hard it is to give my full effort on so many different fronts and to switch gears like that, and that he knows exactly how much i can really give where - even when i don't.... that makes me His.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

well trained

Or at least sorta, kind of, getting there....

He doesn't require that i respond some particular way to his torture.  He doesn't expect me to be perfectly quiet or still and I don't have to thank him or repeat a particular mantra when he's tormenting me or demanding i do things i don't especially want to do.  He expects me to respond appropriately to whatever he does, whenever he does it.

Sounds simple, right?

Guess who gets to decide what 'appropriately' is?

So, for instance, when he grabs me out of the blue and bites my neck, slaps my ass, or especially pinches and twists my nipple, he expects a measured response that matches what he thinks the pain level was.  If i miss?  He tries again and again and again until i get it right, every time....."Let's try this again.  Does this hurt? What about this?  I can make it really hurt you know?"

Sometimes the element of surprise makes me a little jumpy - that doesn't factor into his weighting system though.  The humiliation of being chastised, the waiting and holding still, not knowing if the next twist and pull is going to be gentle or fucking hurt....  He enjoys this game.  I work really hard to hit his mark and have it be over with as quickly as possible.

When he's hitting me with whatever he's hitting me with, he still expects a measured response - his measure, not mine.  It's harder than it sounds.  My tolerance can be all over the place - but i think he accounts for that.  And I'm getting better at letting go of the fear and focusing on just the actual sensations - the experience, not my expectations.

But i still sometimes find myself, in the moment, wondering if i should be responding a certain way or another.  I'm not tempted to play it up in order to get him to ease off (I'm not sure how he gauges my tolerance on any given day - but i imagine it has something to do with my responses).  Most often I really want to be right where i am, even with the evil new cane - i need it, he needs it, i'm not going to be trying to get out of it.  Even if i am genuinely anxious about how difficult it is going to be - i don't fake anything.  If i beg for it to stop, I mean it sincerely - funny how that works, i know it won't stop him - so why beg?  Question for another day.....

But when he has more time and is looking for more intensity, there comes a point that i find myself being able to wrap my head around things, i can breathe into it and manage it.  He orchestrates this of course - if he doesn't want me to manage, he changes the tempo and the intensity and i can't keep up.

But when he lets me, and i start to reach the breathing/floating point - i always wonder - does he want me to relax?  Does he want me to be able to float?  Wouldn't he rather i be squirming and struggling?  Isn't that what gets him off?  What is it about hitting me that he really likes?  If i'm all quiet and floaty and blissed out, what's in it for him?  He can keep hitting me, but where's the excitement for him?  He still has to remind me to let go, to breathe, to float off.

Friday, February 5, 2016

authentic self

Since my husband is far, far away and has been and will be mostly for some time to come, and i'm not really writing about sexy fun, even if there were some, and even control and that wonderful power flow aren't really in abundance - things are mostly on me and mostly about me at the moment.  He will read - and that is the point in the end.

So many pieces pushed to the front of my brain recently and demanded to be considered all together.  Oh well....

I worked through an activity with my students on the tension between the importance of the image they project/how they are perceived, and being true to their athentic selves.

That tension slays me.

But mostly i was thinking about my authentic self.

We went to a music competition thing at my kids' school.  A lot of really bright, really talented kids.  What i noticed - when the judges questioned the boys - the boys stammered a bit and were certainly not over confident, but they looked at the judges and answered.  The girls looked at the floor, giggled, looked away, and never really did answer, never engaged in the conversation the judge was trying to have with them.

In class i notice, the women (who are by no means less bright or capable than the men) step back and look away when faced with opportunities to stand out, try something new, challenge themselves.  The men not so much.  They often stumble or have to try  few times, but they step up and accept the challenge.

That got me thinking about educating girls vs. boys (I know - I'm hardly the only one - and yes - i have two boys - and even if i didn't -  i'm not interested at all in limiting their opportunities, I don't want to level the field by lowering it, but by raising the girl side of things).

It made me think about my education - in a very small, rural, and very backwards area - a long, long time ago.  I was insanely curious and a tomboy and i loved science.  And by 3rd grade my teachers were  taking me aside to ask me to not ask questions any more, to not "do so well at things so the other kids have a chance,"  to sit more quietly and to focus on more girl subjects.  They also stopped allowing me (and a few other girls) to play sports at recess - girls had to sit and talk or play jumprope or jacks (yes - i'm old).  This got repeated over and over for the next few years - by about 7th grade i was completely compliant - i didn't ask questions, i didn't answer questions in class, i withdrew completely, i intentionally dumbed down.

I'm sure i had been an obnoxious child to be around - always asking questions, wanting to challenge ideas, pushing.... I know - because i have one of those children - it's exhausting and he has had to learn to manage himself somewhat so as not to drive people away with his intensity.  Peoples' perceptions do matter if you want to continue to be around them - even more so if you want to be friends, work with them, etc.  There's a balance point in there.  I didn't have a chance to figure that out, i just shut down.

Even now, still, i am learning to find and be my authentic self - curious, geeky, a little too intense sometimes, different in a lot of ways... and to modulate that appropriately for the context.

This includes D/s too - the tension: the being submissive but also intense and challenging, modulating without withdrawing and shutting down, being vulnerable without going back to my 7th grade self.

 What's brilliant though - what's brilliant about my husband - is that he knows all of me.  He knows the real me.  The geeky, the weird, the intense, the insecure and the still learning...  And somehow he embraces all of it and manages to let me keep all of it while still being his, still submitting all those contrary parts to him.