Sunday, May 31, 2009

A little break in proceedings

I wanted to let you know that my posts may be irregular for the next week or so. My husband and I are taking a little holiday up north. It was a trip I planned some time ago when the airlines were running sales, and a 'fire sale' at the resort enabled us to rent the 'penthouse' with a gorgeous view over the town and out to sea. The best part is that it has a spa on the roof, and rain, hail or shine, I am likely to be found up there. It is a little holiday that ties in with our wedding anniversary. We've been married many, many years; many more than is fasionable these days. Yet, the love goes on. It is eternal. We have our ups and downs but we always return to the love we have for one another.

Before I get on with the business of preparing for our departure, I want to share a thought with you. I've done quite a lot of talking in the past couple of months; to dominant men and to a submissive woman. One thing that seems clear is that we all have our individual spin on what constitutes dominance and what constitutes submission. No-one is wrong and no-one is right and I squirm a little when I read anything that goes even close to suggesting that there is one right way to do any of this. In the end, we are in relationships and if it works for the two people involved; if they are happy together and happy in themselves, then it is right for them.

In my conversations and reading and writing, I've been exploring what is right for me and right for my husband. We know that what works for us is that I bunker down, nice and cosy, in my submissive place whilst he does what comes so naturally to him, and dominates his landscape, including me. We've tried variations on this theme, and what we now can say with authority is that I do best with some daily 'maintenance'. That is not right or wrong. It is right for me. It keeps me calm and centred and feeling loved and allows me to feel my submission. For another girl, it is unnecesary or even wrong. Something else is right for her. I need my dom to be involved in my life, day by day. That connection allows me to then go on and be productive in my own life while he is inundated with his own activities. In this way, I carry my submission with me through my day; happy and feeling loved.

I encourage anyone out there who is struggling right now with their submission to find out what works for you and stick with it. Don't worry what others may think; just do it and be happy. We are, perhaps, a little more unusual than the average bear, but we are lovely people and we deserve to shine bright.

I hope to write again from paradise, but it all depends if I can get out of that spa. You know I will be thinking of you, nonetheless.

Friday, May 29, 2009


The princess in the tower, the one who needed to be rescued, saw the good Prince coming along on his horse. She put her head out of the window and cried ‘Help!’ The Prince, being the good fellow that he was, immediately raced to the aid of the Princess, and the rest is history.

That’s a scene from a fable, written a long time ago. So, it can’t surely apply to today, right? Wrong! In spite of being financially independent, bright, career-oriented, and able to perform six tasks all at the same time, some girls wait for their knight in shining armour all their lives. They don’t plan this strategy necessarily; not at all. It is ingrained. It is in their DNA.

My husband has been trying to train me to be more responsible for my emotional distress. When upset, he wants me to do my best to sort things out for myself. I believe the expression he used was that he wanted to try “leaving me out in the left field” to see if I could “meet him half way”. That must sound reasonable – meet him half way.

The problem is that when a submissive girl like me is emotionally distressed, she can’t walk ten feet ahead of her, let alone meet the man “half way”. How can she walk towards him when she is in a bark canoe paddling downstream with no paddle?

What can she do? Nothing. What must he do? Rescue her.

All the training in the world and all the punishment in the world is not going to change a thing. When the girl is locked in her tower, she must be saved. He must find the ladder, climb up to her, comfort her and help her to climb down.
This evening, my husband finally accepted the impossibility of his command. When distressed, I need him to come and help me down the ladder. I’ll climb down out of the Tower once I know that he is there to help me.

To get me down the ladder he may need to be very forceful and stern. I might be afraid of heights and he might have to insist that I must follow and that I *will* be all right. He might need to give me a hug to reassure me that he is there and he won’t ever let me fall. It might be a bit of carrot and stick, but knowing that he came for me is the strength I need to overcome my fear of heights and climb on down to safety.

Some things are set in stone. The submissive woman needs her dominant man. No matter how much he might like her to self-soothe her way out of emotional distress, wanting that outcome won’t necessarily make it happen. She might be submissive, but she can’t do what she can’t do.

And, she can’t do it alone. She needs her man to come to her and rescue her. Nothing on that score is going to change; not tomorrow, not next year, not ever.

I think he knows that now. I feel so very much better.

One for the Dominants

Having read Sir J’s discussion about ‘punishment’, I am prompted to share some thoughts of my own on this subject.

What I like about what I know of Sir J’s dynamic with his h is that it is a closely connected relationship. He has developed rituals around the day whereby, wherever they happen to be, in the same vicinity or not, they check in with one another routinely; touch each other, often. When a submissive woman is in touch with her dominant, in whatever form that takes, she is unlikely to feel abandoned. She is unlikely to want to misbehave.

I don’t think that submissive woman misbehave too often because they can’t do the task, or they don’t know better, or they are just “bad”. I think submissive women misbehave because they don’t feel the connection adequately, and this throws them off balance. When they are off balance, problems ensue for both the dominant and the submissive.

I refer to the sort of attention I crave as ‘positive energy’.

Recently, I was asked to do a task. It was for my own benefit; something I was being taught and something I wanted to learn. I procrastinated and when called on it, a correction ensued. It was a correction that, more or less, took the place of the task and it was a correction that would see progress. It was a punishment, for want of a better word.

Whilst I do misbehave, I also do see the error of my ways and I didn’t hesitate to comply. In fact, I enjoyed my ‘punishment’ enormously as he most likely knew that I would. I also enjoyed having the task imposed on me. That’s just who I am. When I reported that I had accomplished the task, he was effusive with praise. We were both delighted!

And, that is what I mean by ‘positive energy’.

I’ve certainly had the other kind of punishment; the kind where you are asked to bend over and take a good whipping. Sometimes, that has been highly appropriate from the point of view that I didn’t do what I agreed to do or I did something, knowing that there would be such a penalty. Sometimes, I have been hell bent to do something my way and it has taken this sort of a punishment to convince me that my behaviour really does need to change. I don’t have a strong objection to this. I certainly don’t have any sense of resentment about it where the rules were very clear and I broke them.

As a submissive woman, I enjoy playing with pain, and sometimes I enjoy playing with pain that I deserve. It just happens to be part of my fantasy life; part of my kink. Exploration of pain, without the punishment factor occasionally, would be less satisfying to me. It just happens to turn me on. What can I say? Perhaps one could set up that ‘scene’ for me but I think I’d know the difference. It’s complicated.

The point is that I just don’t have the kind of personality that even desires to be good ALL the time. Sometimes, I just ‘push the envelope’. I’m never going to be the perfect submissive.

But, aside from those occasional times, I look for the kind of close connection with my dominant that will have me in my ‘happy place’; wanting to please, wanting to receive his praise. In my heart of hearts, I truly believe that if I had that, I could shine. I know, because I have had that, and I *did* shine. I bask in the glow of an attentive dom.

One of the aspects of a good submissive is that she should be ‘patient’. That sounds fine in theory, but in practice, it makes the submissive less satisfied in her submission. Surely, if she is bubbly and bright, she can serve her dominant best. To be bubbly and bright, she needs an attentive dom. It may seem impossible to the busy dom to seriously consider that a call of two minutes duration can be exhumed out of his day, but if he really wanted to do it, don’t you think he could find that time? Maybe, giving her a dozen swats of a morning sounds like a big chunk out of his day, but who is he kidding? Twelve swats can be achieved in less than ten seconds. His submissive doesn’t deserve ten seconds out of his morning?

The next time a submissive woman just isn’t rising to the mark, perhaps it is worth the Dominant man asking himself if she needs a burst of positive energy that emanates directly from his attentiveness to her. Sometimes, even a correction or punishment is just the attention she needs.

You see, at the end of the day, come what may, she craves her Dom's attention as her lifeforce.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

All day, every day

When one lives in a power exchange relationship all day, every day, the two participants walk a rather fine line; balancing on a tightrope at times, it seems to me. It is not possible for a submissive to cool off or slack off back at her own apartment for a few days if the going gets tough. If the dominant is not pleased, he is not pleased potentially for the whole weekend. The submissive needs to get used to the fact that he’s going to be, potentially, watching every move she makes, whether she’s steaming angry or not, wanting his attention or not.

It should come as no surprise to read that the submissive is challenged to be...well...submissive, twenty four hours a day. Some days, it is as easy as agreeing to be taken to a lovely lunch at a restaurant. One is feeling in one’s happy place and doing all the right things; making all the right moves is effortless.

Some days it is like being asked to go to a cricket match or have root canal work on a tooth. It is just something one would rather avoid. You’ve got your own ideas on how to spend your day and it doesn’t include him asking a whole lot of questions and wanting things done his way. Be that as it may, being in a power exchange relationship, twenty–four hours a day, means that a submissive woman needs to, at the least, negotiate her ideas and plans, with good grace, a calm disposition, and a polite demeanour. Exhibiting frustration with the dom, at least in my house, does not go down at all well.

I struggle a little (is that you laughing, my dear?) with being pulled up for my tone, my lack of consideration or my inability to keep my dom abreast of my activities and my plans. I may have been perfect for the past four days straight, but it means nothing to him if I should, for a minute or two, display a lack of patience with his desire to have the message repeated, as an example.

Needless to say, I fail, more or less repeatedly. I do something that a well trained submissive woman knows better than to do. It has been pointed out to me that I should not feel too badly about this. Did I intend to behave badly? What is important here is that I acknowledge my failings, apologize for them, try to do better next time and accept my lecture calmly. (That’s so easy to do!)

This is my new life; a constant striving to be the perfect submissive woman; to display all the virtues of an angel on earth. No big deal!

For the dominant man who is dominating the woman he loves, things can get a little tricky! He needs to keep her on the straight and narrow, to provide the structure around her life that she has said she craves, but at the same time, he may well also feel responsible for her happiness, just like any husband or lover. Does he really want to impose a penalty that will make her miserable whilst at the same time teach her an important lesson? I have to presume that there are days when he feels conflicted.

On one of the blogs I read Mr. Cross refers to being the dominant of his wife of many years. He writes:

“In my own experience the key is courageous honesty, unfailing trust, personal integrity, and the ability to balance between maintaining the framework of control for the submissive, and focusing on the happiness of his lover which now has become essential to his own sense of well being”.

This sentence resonated. No longer is it possible for my husband to turn a blind eye to my failings. Perhaps as a young husband he could put down my terse response to me having a bad hair day. That is not really possible any more. My training as a submissive woman has shown me that terse responses are not really acceptable. We all have feelings of frustration or anger, but there are strategies to deal with these feelings such that a calm and measured response is expected. The standards of what will be tolerated are now more stringent; higher.

At the same time as the man is a dominant to his submissive girl, he is also her man, to whom she goes when she is sad, worried, emotionally distraught, or in need of help. He is not just her dominant but the man in her life with whom she will have millions of vanilla discussions about this and that; the good, the bad, the ugly.

If she is not happy, for whatever reason, he is not himself. The connection is such that her well being is his well being, just as Mr. Cross said.

Frankly, I think it is a hard task for both man and woman in a 24/7 D/s relationship. For her, he is her dominant, her husband (or lover), her adviser, her mentor, her mechanic, her fix it man, her financial adviser, her rock! He is her everything.

For him, too, I think she is paramount. She provides him with stability, love, and a sense of worth in the world. Her behaviour reflects on him and provides him with feedback as to his own success. Or, so it seems to me.

A twenty-four hour power exchange relationship is intense. It is challenging. I continue to believe it is worth it.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Don't let the bed bugs bite!

On one level, I waste considerable time. I really could achieve so much more in a day if I just didn’t turn on my laptop.

On another level, it is not wasted time at all.

Every single day of this extraordinary experience in the D/s space, I learn.

I would not know how to begin to tell you all the lessons I learned today. Maybe most important of all, I learned the value of love, of forgiveness, of wanting to please, and of friendship.

Today, I had one of the most profound conversations of my life; on chat. He put so much effort into setting me straight and I hope when we left one another at the end of the conversation he knew that he had sorted the whole thing out in my mind. What a guy!

Here’s the thing! Dominant men are not just good at dominating submissive women; their wives, their girlfriends; their lovers; whatever.

Dominant men can make the most adorable ‘boy next door’ chums.

For the purposes of anonymity I have altered the name and the odd word, but this exchange at the end of our heated, intense, dramatic, and sometimes stern exchange, says it all. Dominant men can be just adorable. This sweet man was kept up well past his bedtime and by the time we were saying good night, things had got pretty soppy and silly. But, dominant men are little boys sometimes just like submissive women are little girls. Ain’t life grand? Please enjoy:

A: Vesta?
me: yes?
A: have you smiled?
me: yes, I am smiling right now
A: thank you
you are better then?
me: it is my pleasure
than a barrel of monkeys
Sir: and that is good?
me: i think so
i think I come with a cautionary note
"Lovely girl but prone to blow like a bottle rocket. Beware!"
A: good thing I have no idea what that means then
me: when you are rested I shall explain
time for all good little boys to turn off their computers
and tuck down
do you have your blankie?
A: I shall ignore it again and again and again
me: are you all tucked in?
do you need a glass of water?
A: I think I'm ok Eddie and I should be fine
me: that's good
well don't you let the bed bugs bite
and pleasant dreams
A: have a pleasant evening
me:time to turn off the light
nightie night
me: A, have you fallen asleep
you need to turn off the lap top first
turn off the lap top first
don't let it drop on the floor

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

You have how many winter jackets??!!

Depending on how well you read between the lines I write here, you might or might not know that I am rather smitten with the idea of having a 'dress code'. I just love the idea that a man is interested enough to get involved. And, I rather like the idea, too, that a wardrobe has a bit of order to it.

I already have a tendency to hang winter clothes together and summer clothes separate. I rather like all the winter skirts to hang side by side, and the summer tops to be in the one area; that sort of thing.

But, I have got a bit lazy about it all, I must confess. Life is busy and I have a tendency to grab outfits that I know will work quickly and easily, most of the time. Perfectly good and interesting items must wonder 'when is it my turn?'

Finally, I am taking the time to do something about this sorry state of affairs. I am making out an inventory of my wardrobe. At first, the task was just so daunting, but I am finally in a place where I am seeing progress. I have a list of winter skirts, and winter jackets and I am getting through the knitted items, too. It is coming together.

Now before you come down on me, you should know that I have the most ridiculous wardrobe situation in the world. My wardrobe is made of many doors and the area behind each door fits very few items in the allotted space. To make a list of winter skirts, I have had to check in all the doors. Then, to make a list of winter jackets, I have had to repeat the process all over again. Some days, it felt easier to simply climb Mount Everest and be done with it!

A few months ago, my dear Janus tried to get behind those doors. He loves dressing dolls, he tells me and he thought it was time he knew what I was buying. I said that I didn't think that was all that good of an idea. He disagreed. He thought we could do a 'Price is Right' sort of game.

I would present to my husband a new garment, one not worn yet and he would guess the price. If, in fact, I had paid more than I should have, according to his guess of what I should have paid, then he got to give me that many swats. So, if I had paid $50 too much, 50 swats. Got the idea?
Isn't he a funny guy! a few short days from now, the inventory will be done. I suspect that a time of negotiation and discussion will then ensue and one of these days, I will have a dress code.

Then, it will all have been worth it! I think!

Don't let me find a spelling mistake!

Since I wrote my ‘goodbye letter’ to Janus, only to regret my actions days later, I’ve been in something of a “process”. It seems that I had to learn what it felt like to live my life as a submissive woman without dominance. No one was too impressed at my ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ flip flop of attitude, and of one thing I needed to be sure: it was not going to be tolerated.

I have the message. I have the message, loud and clear.

Part of the re-educating ‘process’ was for me to write out the ‘new agreement’, as you know. As you also know, another part of the ‘process’ was for me to consider what constituted a “severe punishment” such that I would think at least twice before I ever tried this stunt again. You also know (God, am I boring you?) that I tried to come up with suitable punishments.

In our chat over the weekend, Janus revisited this topic and he said that he didn’t feel that a whipping was really going to change my behaviour. His thinking here was that a girl tends to forget about her whippings pretty soon, and in any case, she also tends to think, ‘Well, I’ve paid my dues now. I can go off and do it again some other time.’

He may be right here. The thought has crossed my mind, and a submissive woman doesn’t really walk around in fear of a whipping, let’s face it!

So, we discussed it some more and without him giving too much away, I got the impression that Janus was looking for me to write up the process that I had been through – what had led to the behaviour, what had I learned, and what was a suitable plan for discipline for the future.

I wrote up my statement last night and sent it on to my husband. One of my readers, a real sweetie, looked it over for me first, and gave me the thumbs up. Thank you, again, my dear. That was a confidence booster.

I doubt it will end there. My husband will probably want to discuss it, and unlike Janus, I think he thinks that a few (many?) cuts of the cane across my bottom might be a good ‘insurance policy’.

I am hoping that this puts an end to the matter and that from there he will send a message to Janus that I am ‘good to go’ with the new agreement.

Then, I get to do some writing with Janus! Oh, goody! I get to be told off when I don’t do it in a timely fashion. Or, when it is not good enough, I get to do it again and resubmit it. If I make a spelling error or a grammatical error, I suspect I get to write lines.

Hold on!

I want this?

But, that makes me a masochist, right?

Jeez! I never knew.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Darling, I'd love a spanking!

I was looking for a particular piece of paper on my desk this evening, and in doing so, I located a charcoal drawing one of my son’s had done some years ago now. I’d say he was in grade 3 at the time and I kept it, meaning to frame it. I will frame it actually for it has become evident that art is not really his thing and thus this interesting fox in flight is all the more special to me. He put a title on the drawing. ‘The fox is a flash in time.’ Quite right! This fox is here and then he is gone and not just the four legged kind.

My little guy has always seen the world at a slightly different angle to most people. He doesn’t say anything unless he has something to say, and when he has something to say, we all listen, because it is bound to be interesting and most likely, funny. Laughter is such a wonderful thing and even in hard times, it lightens the load.

This morning after exercising, I had coffee with several women and it was one of those times when women are very honest with one another about their lives (except me, for obvious reasons). One woman is recently divorced. For a while she was bitter and twisted, as you might expect. Her husband had met a Vietnamese girl on his travels and five minutes later she was pregnant and he had packed his things and moved out. But, several months later, she has lots of interesting stories to share with us and she certainly makes us laugh.

This weekend, she went to a club where she is a member. She was one of the last to leave, and as she did she found a man there sidling up to her to tell her she was “beautiful”. Taking the advice of a man friend, she took the initiative and said, “Would you like to go out some time?” He didn’t hesitate to exchange telephone numbers with her and hopefully it leads to good things for her.

Wanting to be supportive of her audacity, I said,

“Well, even if it just leads to having someone to go to the movies with, that’s a good thing!”

Without missing a beat, another interesting, petite and attractive women at the table said,

“Oh yes! I’m married and I’d love a man to go to the movies with!”

We all rolled about laughing before various women commented on the state of play of their marriages. Not only were few husbands interested in taking their wives to the movies, they rarely commented on their dress, even when heading out to an important event.

It’s just not good enough, is it? These are intelligent, witty, attractive women in great shape. They may not be young any more but they are feminine and soft and wanting of attention. They want their men to notice them and take them on a date.

I didn’t do it. You know me. Don’t breathe a word! But, I can tell you, I was sorely tempted to tell them about the benefits of asking to be spanked. Maybe then, their husbands might be a little more accommodating. What do you think?

The Truth

This weekend I rented the movie ‘Revolutionary Road’ with Kate Winslet and Leonardo diCaprio. I loved it! I can’t say that I really enjoyed it, but gosh, I loved it.

At the outset, when I was writing for Janus nearly every day, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just did my best. I have never taken a writing class and so I just wrote. I had a tendency to want to tell my reader all about my characters. I wanted to tell them right away that Janet loved this or Janet wanted that. Janus would tell me to do it again. He would say something like,

“Tell me about her with dialogue or an action. Don’t just tell me facts about her.”

Eventually, I got the hang of that. When I get back to writing, when I finally get back to doing what I should be doing, I think I might even have that nailed.

I applaud the screenwriter of ‘Revolutionary Road’ for his ability to tell us so much about these characters through such carefully crafted words.

When they meet, Frank and April, it is immediately apparent why it is that Alice has fallen in love. By her own admission, she has never really been anywhere. Frank has been to Paris and can’t wait to get back there.

“Well, I’ll take you with me,” he tells her.

A girl whose passion to live life on her own terms oozes out of every movement, April pays close attention to Frank’s words.

“All I know Alice, is that I want to feel things; really feel them.”

That’s all it took.

“I think you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

But, Frank isn’t exactly the man he portrays. He takes his responsibilities seriously and he looks for the approval of his peers. We see April bloom at his agreement to move to Paris and we see her fade when he takes that option away.

It is not for her; a life lived according to society and her peers. That means nothing to her.

“Who made these rules, anyway?” and then “Look at us...this idea you have to settle down, resign from life...”

But, Frank doesn’t get it.

“I support you, don’t I?”

And, then her plea...”We can’t go on pretending.”

It is so painful to watch, but there it is on the screen, her truth, his truth; two different truths.

My truth is that I want to write half that well.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

The truth shall set you free

I am controlled in large measure by the expectations of my husband and children. But, what of my thought processes? Do I, in fact, impose control on myself?

When I was a young girl, it seemed to me that my role was to be the ‘good child’. My sibling was not ‘wild’ but comparatively speaking, he was. So, I think I tried to make up for this. I saw my mother suffered when he was uncooperative and that made me want to co-operate, if only for her sake. In any case, I did not want to be bad. I had no desire to be at all rebellious. When I began to explore my sexuality I did it without confronting my family. As far as parenting me goes, they had a dream run.

I married fairly young. Almost immediately, we fell into a mode where I took responsibility for many household responsibilities. I don’t think we ever sat down with me suggesting that I would do all the cooking, cleaning, washing, shopping and so on. In fact, it never entered my mind that I would not be responsible for those things. Certainly, my husband never fought the notion.

When the children came into our lives, I saw the vast majority of their parenting as my responsibility, too. It just never occurred to me that I would be anywhere else of an evening than looking after my family. I rejected evening classes, or socializing with girlfriends of an evening on all but a handful of occasions.

I remember when we lived in another country; the next door neighbour suggested that we walk in the neighbourhood together directly after dinner. Her husband was prepared to do the dishes whilst she was away. But, I made an excuse immediately. I just couldn’t imagine such a situation in my household.

Last week, my daughter came down the back staircase and as I heard her coming, I moved away from the desk and my writing, to get busy in the kitchen. I have done this many times before. Late last week, she took me to lunch, and she talked to me quietly.

“Mum, when you hear one of us coming, you immediately move away from your desk and do something. But, you are entitled to some happiness, to do something that pleases you. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Oh my! My daughter was onto me! Finally, someone had seen that my reactions were so often related to guilt. Was my house clean enough? Were my children and husband happy? Was I a good mother? A good wife? Could I keep all the balls in the air and perhaps in the few quiet moments of my life, eek out some personal happiness of my own? Did I deserve to take the time to write? Did I, in fact, deserve to be happy?

Janus and I had a chat yesterday, and he said that he thinks that I worry about telling the truth about myself. He thinks that I worry that people won't accept it.

“You may need practice telling things that aren't comfortable, aren't acceptable. You may need some experience talking about your feelings where you aren't going to get punished for it.”

I think he may be right. I know that I do keep my feelings to myself for fear of being punished; not fear of the cane or some other implement; fear of being rejected.

One facet of D/s relationships that is so appealing to me is that the girl is supposed to be open with her man and that this leads to a closer connection. It has not always worked out that way for us. My husband wants a happy girl and sometimes the truth implies that is not entirely so. It challenges him and the conversation can end badly. Yet, I believe in D/s. I believe in the power of it to make for much happiness and contentment. “The truth shall set you free.” I’m going to put my faith in that statement, and like Indiana Jones take that giant leap of faith. I honestly don't think I would be doing this without Janus, for I do this knowing that, should I fall, he will be there to catch me.

Saturday, May 23, 2009


I have just finished reading an email from one of my readers. It was a lovely insightful email and I greatly appreciate receiving it.

It seems that I have been confusing the hell out of readers. I didn't actually realize that but I think I know why that may be the case.

A blog is an opportunity to put one's thoughts out there on paper. It is also an opportunity to have a dialogue with one's readers and I'd like to take this opportunity to say to those who read here that I'd greatly appreciate your questions and challenging comments. Your support is greatly appreciated, but if you have something challenging to say, be my guest!

All my life, I have prescribed to the theory that words on paper are risky. Yes, I tell you some of the things on my mind, but I hold back, too.

If I were to say to you, as I will say now, that I am disappointed in my husband's lack of commitment to my submission, will the sky fall? Will it help us or will it destroy us? That is my dilemma. Honesty is a two-edged sword.

I appreciate my dear reader's feedback more than I can say. How often in life does one have this opportunity to receive such honest and meaningful feedback?

I am going to try harder to tell you readers, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I can only hope that such 'openness' leads to good things.

And, you be honest and open with me, too! Okay?

Friday, May 22, 2009


It had been a difficult week. She was anxious to return to a positive state of mind. She thought back over the past for a memory that might provide her with sustenance. Nothing came.

There must have been something...something positive about even this week...something.

And, then she remembered his comment and the memory of it gave her a warm glow.For one, brief shining moment, she had done something right. She searched again for the exact words he had used and they returned to her. She rolled them around in her head until they sat comfortably in a resting place and warmed the cockles of her heart.

“I’m very proud of your persistence and motivation to pursue training.”

Yes, that is what he had said. She smiled her first genuine smile for the day. She was lucky to have met him. She wanted him to know that. She sat down to write.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


Sadness overtakes me. Why have these few words hurt me so? Is it just a spilling over of emotion that will leave me as quickly as it appeared?

How much frustration should there be before it is too much? How hard should one try before the trying overwhelms?

For a girl who wants her spirits to soar, this girl can still be cut to the core.

Under their control

I do not enjoy being in hospitals, but the hospital I went to yesterday is purely a ‘day care’ hospital and there is no despair there. Most of the people that work there smile a lot, and they treat the patients very nicely. There is no waiting around and it all runs most efficiently.

When I arrived, I was soon escorted into a little room where a girl asked me the usual barrage of questions, and then she showed me where to undress. Soon thereafter, the anaesthetist arrived and he asked me all the questions again, and then he led me into the theatre room where the surgeon asked me all the same questions, again.

When we had that all squared away, now it was time for the good bit. They had me take off the dressing gown and lay on the table on my side and they tucked me in, nice and tight, into white sheets and blankets. Was I warm enough, they wanted to know? Oh yes! I was warm and in my submissive little space. I was already deep inside a womb of comfort, being attended to. I was totally in their charge.

The anaesthetist came and pulled my hand this way and that. Whatever he wanted was fine with me. I was just a casual observer. Eventually, he was all ‘good to go’ and I vaguely heard him say, “Now, I am injecting something that will send you to sleep very soon. Off to sleep now!” That’s all I know. I was told to go to sleep and so I did. Instantly!

I don’t like hospitals but I adore to be looked after. I am the perfect patient because as long as I have trust, and I did, I will co-operate fully.

I remember waking. “It is over now, Vesta. You can start to wake up now.” How lovely that groggy feeling is when one comes out of the anaesthetic. You are not awake and not asleep and people are monitoring you and checking that all is well. Bit by bit, they raise the bed so that you start to wake more and more. I don’t like to rush this process, enjoying it as I do. I tend to pretend that I am more asleep than I am, just so that I can luxuriate in it.

Eventually, it was time to ask me if I wanted a cup of tea or coffee. A cup of tea, please. Thank you. And would I like the television on? Good heavens, no! I wanted to feel the pleasure of being under their caring control. I wanted to watch everything they did; every tug of the blanket, or noting of blood pressure. I wanted to enjoy every moment of being their patient.

I have never been ‘under the covers’. I have never been wrapped tight in bandages and monitored closely. I do think that I might enjoy it very much.

All too soon, it was time to get dressed. I waited for my husband in the waiting room, as you may have read yesterday. He came toward me all alone in the room, smiling; pleased to have his girl back, it seemed to me. He hugged me tight and solicitously walked me to the car. Then, we drove to a lovely little bistro and I enjoyed my first meal in over a day.

I’m not one to actually ask for attention. Regular readers may know that I have trouble asking for anything. But, when attention is given, I melt into the moment. I have no sense of embarrassment or apprehension. I care not at all that strangers should see me naked or handle me. It has always been this way. I can’t explain it. It is just as it is. When most submissive, I am at one.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Out on the town

Whilst I was in a waiting room today, I picked up one of those magazines filled with gossip about movie stars. It is against my religion to buy them, but I am happy to read someone else’s copy, you see!

There was an article in there about Tom Cruise, and Katie, just like every week. However, this week the article caught my attention. This writer suggested that far from their marriage being in trouble, it was, in fact, completely solid.

The reasoning went like this. When out in public with a famous woman, Tom tended to handle them securely. He tended to steer them this way and that and to almost manhandle them. They had a picture of him holding Julia Roberts so tightly that when he let go, the fingers marks were evident on her arm. Photos of him with Nicole and Penelope showed similar aggressive handling. None of those girls exhibited any sign of enjoying this dominance (which the body behaviour expert attributed to that of behaviour similar to gorillas – he smiled as he held them, and bearing one’s teeth is gorilla-like, apparently).

However, pictures of him steering Katie this way and that in public demonstrated (according to this professional people watcher) that Katie was completely comfortable with this dominance. In fact, her behaviour was entirely “submissive”.

Thus, the prediction was that their marriage was just fine and dandy.

I tend to agree. Whilst she may be having some teething problems with Tom’s idea of the perfect wife and how she should behave, I tend to think that they will sort it out. I don’t have any inside scoop, mind you. It’s just what I think.

It did set my mind wondering. Can you tell I’m submissive by the way I act with my husband when in public? Well, probably, yes, you can. I often have my arm in his. I often hold his hand. I keep very close to him and I allow myself to be led through a crowd. He often whispers into my ear and then I often respond by doing what he tells me. Waiters learn pretty quickly not to bother talking to me and stall holders soon realize that it is my husband who will pay them.

And what if the body movement expert could read my mind? Well, shortly before I was reading the magazine in the waiting room, waiting for my husband, I was in the ‘recovery room’ waking from a routine procedure. And, what was the very first thought in my mind?

“Oh, shit! No more excuses! I’m in for it now!”

What would the expert make of that?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


It seems such incredibly old news when I say that some time back I had a little ‘hissy fit’ and wrote to Janus, my mentor, to tell him that I didn’t want to be under his dominance any more. When I wrote the letter, I meant it, but Janus thought we should discuss it, and thus we did.

The outcome of that discussion and other discussions after it was that I needed to propose a new agreement. I should write it out and he and my husband would determine if it was acceptable. I was encouraged to take my time with this task and so I did. Of course, Janus had me writing a revision, making sure that there were no errors or spelling mistakes, and even then it required another revision.

Finally, the agreement I had written was accepted, although then he made three separate points of his own. One of his requirements may be of particular interest to readers. Janus explained to me and to my husband that it had always been the situation that I was free to leave his dominance at my whim; of course. However, it was also always agreed that should I wish to return to his dominance that a “severe punishment” was required as a prerequisite for returning. Janus had explained to me on more than one occasion that I had a tendency to be impulsive and then regret my actions, and also, that the hissy fit had occurred in the first place because I had disobeyed his instructions. You see, if I was to become overwhelmed or angry with him, I was to go to the corner, settle myself down and gather my thoughts. Then, I was to go to my laptop and write down what the problem was. Then, once he had that explanation, we would discuss it. In fact, I skipped that part and went straight to the ‘goodbye letter’. Bad move in so many, many ways!

I honestly have absolutely no issue with his requirement that I receive a “severe punishment”. In fact, on at least one occasion I explained to Janus that I felt that our new arrangement did not enable him to mandate a suitable punishment and I didn’t feel right about that. Janus and I have both always done our best to honour our relationship and I felt terrible about “skipping out” on this punishment.

Well, he rectified that, all right, by writing to my husband and asking him to take care of it. And, my husband put it back on me by asking for five possible actions that would constitute a “severe punishment” for this behaviour. Readers may well have their own ideas, and feel free to share your thoughts. One dear reader was sweet enough to suggest to me that I didn’t need to be punished at all. It was the fault of the dom, he said. Well, that’s as sweet a suggestion as it gets, and Janus has certainly admitted that he may have let me down in ways. However, that in no way lets me off the hook. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway, knowing the consequences for my actions. On some level, I knew I would regret it, and I did.

I’ve given my husband five suggestions, to the best of my ability, and I even wrote some out here on the blog, not so long ago. Medical circumstances dictate that I must wait until the end of the week for the matter to finally be resolved.

Frankly, it will be a relief to get it over with. It has been in abeyance for a long time, and much more interesting times await us when I have paid my dues. Frankly, nothing could be worse than the experience I have endured with very little dominance in my life. My husband, too, ensured that I got the message over this time, that only ‘good girls’ get rewards. Only well behaved girls deserve a power exchange relationship. I am convinced that without a power exchange relationship in my life, I am less. It just is as it is. I’m not one to wish away time, but I won’t be unduly upset when this week comes to an end.

Monday, May 18, 2009

The joy of the cane

Lately, I have been waking up at about 4 am and instead of staring into the void, I will get up and do something, and then I can usually catch another couple of hours of sleep. This morning, I opened up the lap top in the dark living room and wandered around some blogs. Cutesy pah, I left you a message twice about your lovely poem, but I’m not sure it published. And, then I pressed on some link and found myself looking again at a list of spanking blogs and sites.

Ah yes! I had forgotten about those. I used to love watching those naughty girls get spanked. Yet, I haven’t paid for anything and the thought of wandering through little clips looking for something really juicy isn’t really my thing at this time in the morning.

So instead, I’ll tell you about the best spanking clip I ever saw. Alas, I no longer own it. Many months ago, when my husband told me off about how much energy I was putting into my kink, I had a moment when I thought,

“Well, that’s it. I’m just a weirdo, and I am going to delete this stuff out of my life. No more spanking scenes for me.”

I deleted the scene I am about to describe. When I told my husband what I had done, it was one of those “Nooooooooo!!!!!” moments.

“But, it was the hottest scene, ever! I didn’t mean for you to do that!” he said.

I so very much regret my little tantrum. I’d love to watch it right now. Instead, I’ll just have to describe it for you:

She was a gorgeous young twenty something girl, bent over an old wooden school desk. In front of the desk was a wooden chair and she had her hands flat on the chair. Her white cotton panties were down and her skirt was over her back. Two men (masters) were beside her, one on either side, and the one on the left was holding a nasty looking cane.

First, he held it across the middle of her bottom, and then he raised it high and brought it down hard. It clearly made a red ‘tram track’ stripe across her bottom. After about the third stripe, it becomes evident that with each stripe the girl receives across her buttocks, she is orgasmic. It takes a moment or two to be sure. She is really being thrashed and the stripes are evidence of a caning that would do much more than tickle. But, no! These are not gasps of pain. These are gasps of orgasmic delight. At the end of the caning, the camera focuses in on just the stripes and as it does, she raises her bottom just a little and lets out a gasp of pure orgasmic joy.

Before I was stupid enough to delete it, we had watched it together many times, marvelling at how direct the connection between the stripes and the sexual high was for her. Gosh! Just thinking about it now, reminds me of how few stripes I’ve had across my bottom recently! And, that’s not good, surely! A girl has to know her place. Somebody should do something about that!

Sunday, May 17, 2009


I have been reading some of Tristan's writing about control. A few months ago, his words would not have impressed me. Tying his pet to the bed for a few hours because he felt like doing something on his own! Well, I never!

Yet, today, it resonated with me. Imagine that! Imagine being bound and tied to the bed, left to wait for your owner to come and get you. Gosh, but that does sound interesting!

You know those slow cookers? The ones where you throw in all the ingredients at the beginning of the day and when you come home from work, the casserole melts in your mouth?

Well, perhaps being bound and put aside may be like that. (If you have experience of this, please do share.) You await your owner’s return with eager anticipation. You have to wait some time but you know that when your owner comes to get you, you will be very savoury, indeed. You will delectable and he won’t be able to resist you; your aroma, your taste, what you will do to his insides; how he will feel when he has eaten you. Perhaps being devoured might be rather wonderful, too.

Once upon a time, ‘control’ was not something I dwelled on. I wanted the orgasmic rush as often, as hard and as immediately as I could, but I didn’t think about control for control’s sake too much. I was not inclined to wait; to want to experience control per se.

Now, like the meal in my slow cooker, I am prepared to wait to experience the succulent dish. I am prepared to consider that the waiting may be as much a part of the experience as the meal. Being used like a ‘toy’; put on the shelf and awaiting the time when my owner was ready to play with me. Who would have thought that I would be into that idea?

Saturday, May 16, 2009

A spanking story

When I finally 'came out' as a woman who wanted to be spanked, I had an insatiable appetite for spanking stories. Eventually, I ran out of spanking stories on the Internet that I enjoyed. I suppose there are many spanking stories in print, but I decided that I'd like to try writing some of my own. Actually, that sounds like it was a choice I made. Really, the stories wrote themselves. I loved the process of writing them and nothing and no-one could have stopped them.

Early on, much of what I read on the Internet was quite scary to me. I was reading many things for the first time and I was not entirely sure what to make of it all. One of the blogs I read at the time was 'The Spanking Writers'. Abel and Haron seemed so sweet, and although it was completely clear that Abel thoroughly enjoyed caning as many girls as would let him, he seemed (and is) completely adorable. We began a cyberspace friendship back then and we would swap stories. I knew that his stories were better than mine, but he was kind enough to read them and offer advice, and I was grateful for a reader.

Most of my stories were about a girl and a boy. He spanked her, with various twists on that theme. Over time, on the odd day, I would have the inclination to add in a third person or even more. It was just fun to imagine these things up. One day, I wrote about a King and his girl, and I sent the story to Abel. He made some suggestions about the 'sex scene' but other than that, he said he "loved" it. It was the first time anybody had ever said that about one of my stories and to this day, that particular story is a special one for me. I thought it was about time I gave my readers an opportunity to read a story in its entirety and 'After the Beating' seems a good place to start. It seems too late in the day to change the title, but I should note that my husband hates this title. 'To beat' suggests something awful to him and he doesn't do 'awful'. Point taken. But, on this particular day it was indeed a 'beating' that the King ordered. As you will read, fortunately, the girl was not unduly upset about the situation. So hopefully readers won't be offended either.

I hope that you enjoy reading the story but please note that it is my story and subject to copyright.


His Private Secretary led the way to the King’s Private Chambers, where he waited for her. It was not his wish to have her beaten so severely, or so publicly and humiliatingly, along with the other misbehaving palace servants. However, it had, alas, become necessary to demonstrate to her that she was not above his law, and that her insolence would not be tolerated indefinitely.

At first, he had found her cheekiness, quite endearing. Such a young, spirited girl! He would enjoy the task of taming her, of teaching her how to behave in royal presence. Frankly, he enjoyed her little teases and was loathe putting an end to them. If she had had the discipline to contain the repartee to his bedroom and private quarters, he may never have found the need for the punishment that had just taken place. It was unfortunate that she had forgotten herself in the presence of one of his most trusted advisers! Her fate had been sealed. He called for his Private Secretary the moment the words were out of her mouth, and ordered for her to be caned at the earliest opportunity, with any other misbehaving girl in the Palace.

“It is fortuitous, Your Majesty, that a public caning of five girls is scheduled to take place in an hour. Shall I make her the sixth?” He felt obliged to confirm the order, for never in the past eight months had the King laid a hand on the girl, except to provide her with sweet caresses and pleasure of the most unearthly kind.

“Yes. Take her. And teach her how to behave herself”.

It was not what he wanted, but what must be done. He could not allow such indiscretions. He had his position in the Court to consider. It would not be politic for anyone to see a young girl giving cheek to him, the Sovereign. They would think he had gone soft, allowing a young slip of a thing to say whatever she pleased and not castigated for it. He must exercise his authority, over her and all his people. Truth to tell, it would do her no harm either to be punished severely. As much as he was smitten by her, a girl, any girl, needed to know she could go only so far before a firm hand was taken to her.

Even so, he did not watch the caning from the balcony adjacent to his private office that looked onto the courtyard below. He had no desire to watch it at all, but it became impossible to not hear the proceedings. It had taken only four or five stripes across their backsides before all the girls were howling, pleading, and sobbing away. He steeled himself, privately hoping that she had found the courage within to act bravely, to use her sound intellect to find ways to bear it as proudly as possible. He was a realist nonetheless. There was only so much a girl could do to withstand a flogging before she was lost in her pain, and oblivious to the noise and spectacle she was creating. Instead, he concentrated on the number of the strokes, trying to keep up with when the guards might be moving from one girl to another. In the end, he simply waited, knowing that eventually the guards would put down their canes.

At last silence prevailed and he could breathe a sigh of relief.

A full hour passed before he heard the familiar footsteps of his Private Secretary, and the three soft knocks at his door, as was the custom.

“Enter”, said the King.

“Sire”, said the Private Secretary, “the girl has been soundly caned. I have taken the liberty of having her bathed and her welts tended, and she has been dressed in a black silk nightgown. I hope that these details are agreeable to you.”

“Yes, thank you, Charles. Please have her enter and I bid you good evening. I do not wish to be disturbed again until the morning, unless it is a matter of the utmost importance.”

“As you wish, Sire.”

The Private Secretary bowed and left the room and a moment later the girl stood before him, just inside the door. Her head was bowed, and she had, in little more than an hour, changed. They both felt the weight of the change and a silence hung over them both as each searched for the way forward.

At last the King stretched out his arms, and spoke, “Come to me, my dear girl.”

She approached him where he sat beside the fireplace and awaited further instructions. She continued to avert her eyes, studying instead the exquisite patterns of the Persian carpet beneath their feet.

“Look at me please, girl.”

She did so immediately.

“It gave me no pleasure to have you punished, but I have told you often enough that when you are in the company of other people, you must show due deference to me.”

She was silent.

“Have I not?”

“Yes Sire.”

“Then why were you insolent?”

“I forgot myself Sire.”

“Indeed you did. Are you sorry for your behaviour?”

“Yes Sire.”

“And will you never do it again?”

“No Sire. Never.”

“Very well. I believe you.”

His face softened. He felt the familiar tug of his heart as he looked into her young, fresh face.

“Come to me, dear girl. Sit on my lap and let me comfort you.”

She hesitated for not a split second, and immediately made her way onto his lap, spreading her arms around his shoulders, and crying softly and helplessly into the crook of his neck.

“Now. Now.” he cooed into her ear. “It is all over. You are my sweet good girl again.”

At his comforting words, he could feel her begin to relax, and as his hand made its way to her upper thigh, she unthinkingly opened her legs a little to allow him access. She could never have enough attention and she was hungry for him to make full use of her. Her bottom still hurt terribly and she tried to perch on him such that her bottom was not touched, but in spite of the heat and the ache, she felt the strongest urge for sexual satisfaction. Perhaps it was the aphrodisiac of power and status, perhaps it was the man himself, and perhaps the caning had some magic of its own, but she was wanton. Helplessly, hopelessly wanton.

“Please do with me as you wish, Sire. I only wish to please you.”

He was smitten enough with her to believe her words. It had not occurred to him that as much as she might want to please him, she wanted to please herself even more. And it was hardly a problem. King or no King, he was the kind of man that took enormous pleasure in pleasing a woman. His orgasm was secondary to watching and hearing the delights he could induce in a woman.

”Stand up, my dear.” She did so.

“Take off your nightgown.” She obeyed.

“Now turn around and bend over the ottoman. Arms in front of you.” She complied instantly.

For the first time he had a bird’s eye view of her punished bottom. His Private Secretary was not exaggerating when he said that she had been severely punished. Welts covered her backside in varying directions and there had been a few misfired strokes too, so her thighs and sides of her legs also bore welts. Her buttocks were a fiery red and some bruising had already begun. In spite of himself, the state of her buttocks and the fact that she lay there placidly awaiting his pleasure was fodder to his imagination and his deepest primal urges. He wanted her as he had never wanted her before.

He approached her and bent down right behind her. He brought his hand forward and felt between her legs and immediately she began to groan. She was ripe and he entered her with ease. She uttered one long guttural sound and he knew she required no further preparation. The sounds she made were music to his ears and her sensations were sublime. Every stroke of that cursed cane had been worth the divine lengthy orgasms she was experiencing. Were they many or one very long earth shattering one? Whatever it was, she had never come like this. He adored her at this moment. How free and unencumbered she was!

Eventually, knowing that she was totally satisfied, he allowed himself a deep, long and hugely satisfying orgasm, and the grunts that came out of his mouth were those of the jungle. Here was a King who at this moment was releasing his strongest animalistic tendencies.

They stayed together in this position for several minutes, recovering, soaking up the moment. Finally, the King gave her the lightest pat on her rear, and asked her to go and run their bath.

She complied, of course. With treasures such as these to be had, control of her tongue seemed a small price to pay. She would do her best, in any case. If she should succumb to temptation once in a while, perhaps the end may in fact justify the means.

© Vesta
July 2007

Friday, May 15, 2009

Is that the time?

I have been good in lots of ways! I've been keeping very calm, and I have kept all the balls in the air. I am juggling quite well; calm, centred, patient, relaxed; organized. Just the way my husband likes it!

Alas, even the best jugglers in the world sometimes drop a ball.

I was surfing away on the Internet, lap top on knees, all snug in bed last night, having a lovely time. My man was away and there was no-one to ask "Why do you still have that thing on?", while I scurry to turn it off. Lovely.

But then...well...time got away from me, and the next thing I knew it was very late at night (read: early in the morning).

So this girl is rather tired, and now needing to run fast to catch up with the day.

My apologies for nothing interesting to read today. It was indeed very naughty and I'll try to make up for it with a spanking story over the weekend. You'd like that...wouldn't you!?

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Is there something in the water?

When you are content, you notice things; things that make you smile and the people around you.

I’m in a little bubble of happiness right now and I’m floating about just soaking life up. That is not to say that I don’t see and hear and read things that disturb me, but my equilibrium is quickly restored.

I adore a joke. A sense of humour is imperative, I believe. I have a son who remembers nearly every funny line he ever heard, and it is a joy to hear him recite them. I’m so grateful to have people in my life that can see life from an angle. It’s so interesting from that position! (Make of that what you will.)

So, why the lightness of being, you ask? Well, let me see if I can explain...

For some time there, at least a month, I was often considered a “bad girl”. I wasn’t being very obedient, and I was getting into lots of trouble. I somehow lost the desire even to want to be a “good girl”. I was just in rebellious mode, and I suspect I was a big disappointment.

Mad at my husband, at Janus, and the guy that invented D/s, I called the whole thing off. They talked to me and soothed me and listened to me, but ultimately they figured, I think, that I needed a little time in the great unknown, in the big wide world, all by myself.

Let me tell you, the meadow far from the stable, isn’t all that it is cracked up to be. ‘Freedom’ is one of those relative words. Sometimes, you should be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You must trust me on this.

So, inch by inch, I have been working my way back towards the stable door. I have put my head in and the darkness in there is such a relief, I can’t tell you! I love being a ‘good girl’ again, doing all the things that good girls do. The praise I am receiving is heavenly and my little bubble is just so snugly warm!

Of course, there is a price back to the submissive stable. There is ALWAYS a catch! We’re free to go but returning costs. I know this. What is more, I agree. A good girl needs to accept her faults, to apologize for them, to be punished, to be forgiven and to be returned to her perch. It is as it should be. So, that is certainly sitting there in the back of my mind; waiting...waiting.

Yet, it does nothing to disrupt my contentment. I feel so wrapped up nice and tight in this submissive blanket, I don’t want to leave.

Now, I’m not fooling myself. The day may well come when my good girl status will be sorely tested and I might fall. It is possible. But, today, it seems so...distant.

I am being such a good girl! Do you think there is something in the water?

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Calculated risk

“Do you acknowledge that you should be punished?”

“Yes Sir.”

“You understand that you have been a bad girl?”

“Yes Sir.”

“It must be a severe punishment this time. It is what was agreed this time, was it not?”

“Yes Sir.”

“I would like some suggestions from you, please, as to what would constitute a severe punishment, such that you think twice before you ever think to do this again.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Give me five suggestions. Write them down.”

She takes a piece of pristine white paper, and picks up her fountain pen. She thinks. She calculates. She notes down the page the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

For number one, she writes, 25 strokes of the cane.

For number five, she writes, a hand spanking, over his knee.

For number two, she writes, 12 strokes of the tawse.

For number three, she writes, 18 strokes of his belt.

For number four, she writes, 10 strokes of the riding crop.

She is confident that he will choose from the three middle choices. She relaxes. She is in control.

She takes the piece of paper to him, sitting at his desk and hands it over. He looks up at her, searching for any manipulation.

She looks down; appears pensive, repentant.

He takes from his top drawer a pair of scissors and cuts the paper into ribbons. He makes five little balls of paper. He puts them in his hat. She looks on; concerned.She had not expected this.She must take a chance.

He invites her to choose a paper ball from the hat. She does so and hands the crumpled paper to him.

“Number one. Fetch the cane, my dear.”

Not all risk is worth taking. This lesson she learned this day.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009


It is indeed true that my kinky nature is taking over more and more of my life. It extends well beyond the bedroom, and thankfully, I seem to have reached a golden moment in time, when I no longer feel the resistance I have felt in the not so distance past. I feel more...settled.

This morning my husband and I went to the market...a largely open air market where you can buy meat, fish, vegetables and fruits; all sorts of food like nuts and beans and cheeses and so on. We always stop for a coffee during this shopping morning, and on our way to the cafe he turned to me and said,

“I like having a good girl.”

I smiled and said,

“Is that what you want? You want to be my Daddy and I’ll be your good girl?”

He giggled a bit and then said,

“Well, it is very nice having a good girl. I like it.”

I like it, too (so long as good girls get to play!?).

It is an indication of my state of mind though that not only was I trying to be his “good girl” at the market. I was using the market experience, our weekly ritual, to gather together lots of healthy ingredients to make lots of healthy recipes. This morning, I had got down my ‘Beans and Rice’ recipe book and selected some lovely soups and salads to make up. I made up a list of all the beans I needed: navy beans, cannellini beans, black-eye peas, black beans and adzuki beans. I loved gathering them and seeing all the bags of different coloured beans, and I will love making them up into healthy and low fat recipes, too.

You see, I have taken to heart what I have learned about submissive girls. Submissive girls are not just striving to be obedient, truthful and open in their dealings with their dominant. They are striving to be the best they can be in all their endeavours in life. That includes how they look after their body, inside and out, their choices of dress, the way they speak...everything.

A submissive girl has committed to be the very best she can be, not just for her dominant but for everybody who is in her orbit. She aims to shine. Her efforts to be her most beautiful in all ways is her gift, and that of her dominant, to the world in which they live. It’s a lofty notion but one to which I aspire.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Talking the talk

I just love the discussion that is occurring over at Selkie’s blog. It is an intelligent and thorough discourse about topics central to our lifestyle. I used to read those types of discussions over at The Punishment Book, from time and time, and it was ‘girl power’ in all its glory. I do hope that such lively discussions return there, and I look forward to participating when they do. It makes me realize that, if we wanted to, we girls could take over the world.

This is only one problem. We don’t want to take over the world; at least not our little world of D/s or M/s relationships. Hell, no! If we took over the world, then all the fun would be gone, gone, gone!

So, to the doms and tops that are following the discussion over there, be not afraid! We still want you to do what you do best – pay attention to us! Just because we are being forthright, does not, for a moment mean, that we don’t want you to be forthright back.

For instance, on Selkie’s post, I made the comment that if I am to have a daily exercise and do it over a long period of time, that it must be meaningful to me. I stand by that. However, what I didn’t go on to say was that I certainly don’t argue with the dom’s right to set a task that is NOT meaningful to me. Perhaps, he just thinks it would be a rather good idea to set me a task that I hated; that I did for no other reason than he told me to do it. That’s okay. If it was just about doing only what I wanted to do, well, there’s not too much submission going on. I’m not getting the thrill of submitting and he’s not getting the thrill of dominating. So, whilst the needs of the submissive need to always be kept in mind, maybe he feels that what she needs right now is just to do as she is told, whether she likes it or not. A bright girl is, after all, unlikely to respect a “yes man”. A bright man will know how to keep her submitting to him, inch by inch.

In this morning’s newspaper an article in the Education section is entitled ‘Respect is the new discipline’. It is a worthy discussion about the sort of discipline being undertaken in schools now. It was the final paragraph that really captured my attention. The Principal acknowledged that his school is remembered for “the school that likes to cane”. These days he says, “Discipline shouldn’t be just about punishment, it should be about encouraging and rewarding good behaviour as well.” Well said! We girls might get off on punishment, but we’re not averse to praise, flowers or new shoes!

However, the school’s code remains strict:

“If you are talking about us telling kids to tuck their shirts in, it tells the kids that we are actually watching them, that we are noticing what they are doing and that we are worried about little things. So, the big things are less likely to happen.”

Now, where have I heard that before? Hello, Janus! The little things ARE important. If he wants you to come and ask permission to go to bed, he means it! If he doesn’t notice, you notice that he doesn’t notice, and then you have to do something even worse, to get his attention. It’s a vicious cycle, with no value to anybody.

My point is we girls aren’t attempting to emasculate the dom. Nothing would be worse than if he withdrew his services. I can say this with conviction. We like to talk the talk, but we certainly don’t want you to walk the walk!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

The Amish strap

In my part of the world today is Mother’s Day. Earlier today, I was thinking about the birth of my youngest child, my final experience at giving birth. It was a pregnancy I had not planned, and not sure that pregnancy was right for me or my family, I went and had some counselling. They knew I already had healthy children, that I was soon to live in another country, and that the pregnancy was not planned. They advised me to terminate.

I was truly shocked that someone could give me such advice. They barely knew me. How could they possibly know what was right for me? Not long after this session, a dear friend invited me to a Christmas lunch with her other friends. They were an interesting bunch of women and her club was so beautiful, surrounded by winter snow. But, I didn’t know them and the baby I carried was my secret.

They began to talk of a woman they knew. She was having a baby and at her age! My age! They seemed supportive of her decision. They didn’t think her silly, but rather they were impressed that she could face the challenge so positively. That was all I needed. The little baby boy inside me was here to stay.

That little baby boy is growing up to be a most impressive young man. He’s smart and able, a deep thinker, a good writer and speaker, and most importantly, a caring and loving child who has blessed my life.

Now for the kinky bit! Several weeks before this Christmas lunch,we went to Pennsylvania.I had always wanted to see the Amish people. I didn’t know why they fascinated me so, but I arranged a weekend away at a farm right beside farmland of theirs. I loved getting sight of them in their buggies or better yet, working the land. I can still see in my mind’s eye, a young man and woman working the land, side by side, and just feeling really warm about them. It is something about their ability to live a simple but meaningful life which really resonates with me. On the Saturday afternoon, we took a tour of a typical Amish house. Every aspect of their life touched something deep inside of me. As the guide spoke about them, I could feel deep longings resonating in me.

I vaguely remember leaving the kitchen through a little ante room. My husband and I were towards the back of the group and he had me stop and turn around. There, on hooks, were straps clearly intended for the bottoms of misbehaving children (and wives?). It was almost too much. I only looked for a moment before I turned away. I didn’t dare to express to my husband, or to myself, how incredibly turned on I was.

That evening, I practically raped my husband. I have forgotten, but I suppose I was not using contraception at the time. My needs overtook my brain. The practices of the Amish had me throwing all caution to the wind.

When I look at my darling little boy, who is a gem, I often think about the Amish people; some core understanding they have of maleness and femaleness we others often miss. My ‘coming out’ as a submissive woman occurred several years after that visit. However, I do think that without that visit to the Amish country, it may never have happened. To this day, I feel a deep sense of admiration for the way they go about their lives. Personally speaking, I can't thank them enough.

A happy mother’s day to any readers in this part of the world!

Friday, May 8, 2009


Earlier today, I read an article entitled ‘Effective Behavior management Part 1’ by Kelly B. Cartwright, Ph. D. She isn’t talking about kinky people such as me and you, but rather effective behaviour management styles that adults can use with children. Having said that, I believe that what she had to say has some relevance to the D/s situation.

Ms. Cartwright notes that:

"One common misconception about discipline is that discipline is synonymous with punishment. The Latin root of the word discipline, however, means "instruction" or "knowledge." Thus, discipline is really a process by which adults teach children and convey knowledge about appropriate behavior for various situations. However, some methods of discipline are better at achieving this than others."

She notes that the research suggests that there are at least three different styles of discipline.

“The first, power-assertive discipline, involves such adult behavior as spanking, withdrawal of privileges, and threats of punishment or physical harm. Children respond to adults' requests out of fear, rather than respect. Consequently, children's motivations for appropriate behavior are external, and they conform to expectations to avoid punishment. However, when children find themselves in situations where they will not be "caught," they are likely to engage in inappropriate behavior.”

To put it in kinky words, the dominant may make it crystal clear that if some order is disobeyed, unpleasant punishment will ensue. Perhaps the submissive woman would not conform to the order unless she knew she would be punished, and thus, under threat, obeys.

Secondly, there is the kind of discipline wherein the dominant expresses his displeasure by being distant or hurt.

“The second discipline style, love withdrawal, involves such adult behavior as refusals to speak or listen to children, threats to leave children, or expressions of dislike and disappointment. Adults who practice this discipline style often give children the proverbial "cold shoulder" when inappropriate behavior occurs. As a consequence, children conform to expectations because they fear abandonment or the loss of adults' love and affection. Like power-assertive discipline, love withdrawal produces external motivation for appropriate behavior.”

The point to note is that both of these strategies that attempt to manage children’s behaviour use external motivation for appropriate behaviour. So far, there has been no talk about the motivation of the child, or in our case, the submissive woman.

“The third discipline style, induction, incorporates the true nature of discipline: teaching. Adults who practice induction provide children explanations for appropriate behavior as well as reasonable consequences for inappropriate behavior. Because children understand WHY certain actions are expected of them and others are prohibited, they internalize reasons for these behaviors. As a result, children's motivation to behave appropriately comes from within, and they are more likely to engage in expected behaviors even when they are in situations where they are not being watched and thus will not be "caught." An additional benefit of induction is that children will be more likely to understand the effects of their behaviors on others and exhibit empathy.”

When I first started out on a D/s path, I was so extraordinarily excited, so utterly switched on, that it did not make much difference to me which strategy the dominant used. I was turbo charged and loving every minute of it. “Bring it on! Whatever!”

However, I am now a couple of years down the track, and I have found myself wanting something more “real”. If I am going to have a ritual, it has to have some meaning for me. *I* have to see the value of it. I have to understand “WHY” it is important that I should do this ritual, “WHY” it is important that I should get a few strokes of the cane each morning, “WHY” I should make out an inventory of my wardrobe to establish a dress code.

I am not making a judgement on others when I say that *I* want to do this very intelligently. I want to be taught “WHY” and I want to “internalize reasons” for acting in certain ways.

Over the past few weeks, I have established very clearly in my own mind that I want to be dominated, now and forever. Without that sort of relationship in my life, I feel so much less. So, on my own, I have established the necessity of such a relationship for me. Now, I want to be taught “WHY” I am to do as I am told.

My hope is that in this way, I can embrace my lessons without resistance; be the ‘good girl’ that I want to be. To put it in another way, my brain has to be engaged in this process. I never will earn “slave” status. My dominant is not really interested in imposing his will. What he wants is a happy, well behaved girl. If I am happy, then he is happy and being dominated makes me happy. If certain people can be proud of me and I can be proud of me for the lessons I learn and embrace, that’s enough for me. A "good girl" is rewarded with love, affection and attention. That is exactly what I want.

Thursday, May 7, 2009


I am greatly inspired and humbled by those submissive women who strive to live according to all the virtues that we associate with a submissive woman. It is no easy task to be respectful, obedient, truthful, and patient routinely. It is rather like attempting to transform a girl to be an angel on earth.

Of course, realistically, we are not going to be able to display all the virtues, all the time. Yet, it is something to strive for, is it not? I don't mean that if some person at work is trying to derail your career, that you should turn the other cheek. Hardly. A submissive woman has the right to protect herself any way she can in such situations. I hate conflict, and I suspect most submissive women do, but we have to 'get a grip' at such times, and not allow ourselves to be 'steamrolled'. Don't let people take advantage of you! That's not submissive; that's just silly!

I'd like to refer you to a post over at the blog 'Swallow'. I was quite smitten by this extensive list of topics on which to meditate. Have a look over there, and you will see what I mean. I've been on the look out for a new daily ritual which would be meaningful to me, which would aid my submission, and I think I just found it. Fifteen minutes of quiet contemplation on a topic on this list, in the midst of a busy day, sounds perfect.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Blogs I read

It has taken me far too long to put up a list of the blogs I read. I am sure I have left somebody off. Being as technologically challenged as I am, you guys should be grateful for small mercies! But, if I have left somebody off, please don't be offended. Now that I know how to do this, I will add you soon.

If you take the time to have a look at the list, you will see that it is a rather eclectic list of blogs. Each one provides me with inspiration and thought provoking material, and if there is a blog that is new to you, I hope that you will take the time to have a read there. I've included Deity on the list, even though he is taking a "break", because what's there is so yummy, and because, I reckon he'll be back.

I love new ideas and new ways of thinking about domination and submission, and life and love. There is always something to learn and all these bloggers are to be commended for their rich thoughts. I count a few of them as my friends in the sky, and I commend their blogs to you.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

What is sexy?

Ever since I was a university student, I have wondered, what is sexy? When I was in college, I would see a boy pair off with a girl, to become a couple, and I would wonder, ‘What does she see in him?’ or ‘What does he see in her?’ To my eye, she wasn’t pretty and he wasn’t interesting. Yet, they seemed made for each other.

It has always made me ponder, what is ‘sexy’? What is it that one person sees in another, but so few other people see in that person?

I admit that I am picky about people. I’m open and friendly and welcoming and engaging. I’d certainly not be rude to someone unless absolutely necessary, but the truth is that I am picky as to the people whose company I actually enjoy. If they want to ‘gas on’ about the property market or their latest trip to the ski fields, or how their daughter is the best and brightest child that God ever put breath into, it is really hard work for me to give them my full attention. It is about the time when I begin to nod enthusiastically at the same time as my mind thinks about sex.

I say this here because, naturally enough, I can’t admit it anywhere else. I think about sex and sexual matters all the time. The older I get, the more I think about sex. I think about it a lot more than I did in my twenties and I certainly thought about it quite a lot back then. I’m told that this is not at all unusual. Apparently, older women are very sexual creatures.

My husband isn’t all that happy with me at the moment. He knows I’ve been out of sorts, and he is sympathetic, to a point. And yet, how can he really, in good conscience, condone rather poor behaviour? After he said goodbye to me this morning and we kissed, he said

“If a submissive woman is acting as if she needs to be disciplined, then you should not disappoint her. Think about that over the day. Write it down and think about it.”

I am thinking.

Then, he said,

“You are going to have to earn sexual pleasure, you know. It is not just going to come your way anymore, regardless of your behaviour.”

Now, he had my attention!

The older woman, if I am any guide, has a virile, fertile, lusty mind. The older woman, being older, wants what she wants. And, what she wants is sex. Not the kind of sex that lasts for a few minutes, but the kind that lasts for hours. She is a greedy, adventurous, demanding slut.

The next time you walk by a well dressed, very refined, older woman, you may be tempted to not give her a second look. After all, there are plenty of juicy young girls out there, all bubbly and bright. Why bother looking at an older woman?

Ah! But, you’ll never know what you are missing! Older women know what they want. And, what they want is very bad indeed. If you could read their minds, you would know what I mean.

Monday, May 4, 2009

What's up his ass?

He wasn’t happy. He had been put on hold and that damned jingle in his ear was irritating the hell out of him. He began to snap at her.

“Viv, where have you put the notebook that was right here on my desk this morning?”

“I haven’t put it anywhere. I have not touched it.”

“Nonsense! It was right here, I tell you. Don’t you argue with me!”

She was in too good of a mood to let him get to her. It was water off a duck’s back this late afternoon.

“Sweetheart, I really don’t know where it is. I’ll look for it.”

“Don’t touch anything! How many times do I have to tell you not to touch anything in this room! You clean the rest of the house to your heart’s content, but don’t touch anything in here!”

“All right! I won’t touch anything.”

She turned her back and returned to filing the month’s bills. Under her breath:

“What’s up his ass?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, darling! I was just thinking out loud about this bill.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Vivienne! You said something else. What did you say?”

“I’m not sure what I said, darling. I can’t remember.”

She was smiling a little, in spite of herself, seeing the funny side of his bad mood. How could someone get so upset about such a little thing?

He was not amused. He looked at her suspiciously while she got busy looking angelic.

“Did you call me an asshole, Vivienne?”

“No, sweetheart, of course I didn’t call you an ‘asshole’. That would be a terrible thing to say. It would be rude, and I am never rude!”

“That’s another lie, young lady. You are on thin ice.”

“Yes Sir.”

She didn’t want this to end badly. It was time to pull her head in.

“You said something that sounded like ‘ass’. Now, what did you say?”

“Perhaps...I was referring to an asterisk. That is probably what it was.”


“Darling, I really don’t remember.”

He opened his lowest desk drawer and produced from it a nasty looking wooden paddle.

“Well, let me help you.”

She started to panic.

“No...No...I can remember...”

“Well, just so that you’re sure, bend over this desk.”

He came around and put his hand around the back of her neck, immobilising her. Then, he bent her over the desk, pulled up her summer dress and pulled down her panties, so that it was now her ass in the line of fire. Whilst he held her down with that hand, he pulled back with the paddle in the other, and gave her right cheek a good, hard wack.


And, then he wacked her again, and again, until he had paddled her a dozen times, and she was owwwing her head off.

“Do you remember, now, Viv? Or, do you need another dozen?”

She was panting hard.

“No...No...I remember. I remember clearly now.”

“I thought you might. Out with it, then.”

“I said...I said... “What’s up his ass?”

“Ah! ‘What’s up his ass?’ Yes, that is indeed what you said. Such a charming expression for a young, well bred lady to use, is it not?”

“I am sorry, Harry, I am very sorry.”

“Are you? Not sorry enough, I suspect. But, we can fix that.”

“Harry, I am really very sorry.”

“You’re a little too cheeky, for my liking, my dear.”

He was rubbing her bottom gently as he spoke.

“...and I don’t think I can let such a lovely red, warm ass go to waste, either.”

He was feeling in between her legs, now.

“ is rather wet down there, isn’t it?”

She was purring like a kitten now.

“Perhaps, the right thing to do, girl, is to put something up your ass. Perhaps, that would be the best way to remind you in the future, that you should watch your language. I think so.”

She wasn’t really concentrating on his words any more. She was lost in pleasurable thoughts and sensations. But, she did hear him say,

“Push out, girl.”

She could feel his cock up against her hole, and with little difficulty he entered her.

She felt herself drop into her submissive space; that place where she became inert and impassive; where she was a nothing, a toy, and she was his to do with as he pleased. She remained still and quiet as he pushed back and forth inside of her, with his deep grunts ultimately acknowledging his pleasurable coming.

He pulled out of her and went to clean up. He brought tissues and wiped her; dressed her and had her stand to face him.

She was not cheeky anymore; rather, subdued, contained, at peace; looking down at his shoes.

“And, we won’t have any more of that cheeky, rude language, will we, Vivienne?”

“No Sir.”

“All right. Off you go and make us a pot of tea, please. A little refreshment is in order.”

“Yes Sir.”

She skedaddled out of the room. Seemingly out of range of his earshot, smiling, she mumbled,

“What’s up his ass?”


Dignity and grace

I was greatly touched by two lovely comments left for me in my last post. It prompted me just now to look up the definitions of two words they had used – grace and dignity. Interestingly, neither word is particularly easy to define, with there being some indecision as to a perfect definition. Nevertheless, broadly speaking, ‘grace’ is defined as being to grant forgiveness, or good will, loving, kindness and/or favour. ‘Dignity’ is defined as the quality of being worthy of esteem or respect.

Well, I must say that I am humbled to have my thoughts as those defined as being with dignity and grace. I am going to try to live up to that lovely sentiment.

Whilst I have many faults, I know in my heart that I have attempted to live up to the sentiment expressed in those comments. I don’t believe in giving up on people easily and I tread lightly through this life. I mean no-one any harm and I confess I am always greatly surprised when they do something unkind to me.

I don’t think that there is any sure way to spot a submissive woman, but I would like to think that they are the gentle people of the world. My husband tells me often that I am too soft, and that part of his job is to protect me from the hardness of life. Interestingly, my softness disappears when my children are in need of my protection. I am not inclined at all to ask for favour for myself but I can speak up for one of the children instantly if they need me to. When the little boy beside mine in the choir was going to make his life a misery over the weekend, up I went to talk to the choirmaster to have the matter addressed, and it was dealt with to my satisfaction. If it had been me needing to endure some unpleasant character, I would have stayed silent and got through it the best way I could. That is the difference.

I don’t need a flashy life. I don’t need to be rich. I don’t need powerful or famous friends. Acquisition of valuables is not necessary. I look to make my home as appealing and welcoming as I can, to embrace and love my family, to enjoy my friends and meet interesting people, and hopefully to see more of the world. More than anything, I seek a happy marriage, to be lovingly dominated and to be blissfully happy within my submission. I seek peace of mind.

I do indeed seek to live with dignity and grace. And, that your soul reached out to my soul to express that thought to me...well, all I can say is that I am exceedingly fortunate to have such lovely cyberspace friends. Thank you.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Letting go

Many years ago I was introduced to a rather distant family member. Even then, he seemed old, in the sense that he was from the ‘old world’; from a time when people were civil in all circumstances. He was incredibly gracious; welcoming and kind; immovable, but in a nice way. His standards of behaviour were high at all times, and yet he was always calm and always quiet. I liked him immediately.

Over the years, we shared a good number of meals. He and his wife would sometimes cook us a wonderful roast meal with a fruit sponge for dessert. Do any of you remember the ‘Sunday roast’? He was ‘mine host’ at such events, and he just had to know that you were happy in every way.

“Would you care for another glass of wine, my dear? Or, I could offer you a port? Let me tell you what I have.”

They would come to our little house for a meal sometimes, and when we lived overseas, they even made the trek out to the country to visit us there. In more recent years, we’ve had them here for family celebrations.

He’s old now, very old, and he is not long for this earth. He’s in a nursing home, and if we don’t go and visit him very soon, we will have left our run too late, and that would be a great shame.

J was a prisoner of war in World War 11. He was a pilot and a feisty lad, and he tried to steal a Japanese aeroplane. And, he almost did, but, not quite. They locked him in solitary confinement in an extremely confined space for many months. He kept his marbles by throwing a button into the air and trying to find it. That’s J. Never give up! He didn’t tell me that story. That’s not his style. I heard it third hand from another family member who managed to get it out of him somehow.

When the going gets tough and I need to dig deep to find my courage, I think about J and that button. I think about the way he lived his life, with a deep integrity and honesty and a sense of what is right. I think the world of him and I guess my husband and I made a strong connection over the years, for it was to many family members’ chagrin that he had chosen us to be on the ‘high table’ with him at his special birthday affair, ahead of those closer to him.

His son is unable to see what I see in J. Unfortunately, he sees him as judgemental; that he didn’t care for his choices in life. He sees the standards as rigid and he considers him uncompromising. I think it is a shame. All his life he has possessed noble qualities. He has been honourable and true. He had much to pass on.

Nobody’s perfect. I may well have my rose-coloured glasses on when I see J. After all, I never lived with him. But these old guys, that have lived through wars, and endured horrors and seen it all, they just keep keeping on. They have backbone.

Some days I feel a bit like J in that confined space, when he did whatever he could to endure through to the next day. The hardest thing about life can be, not knowing when a difficulty will end. You can almost touch what you want, but not quite.

I received a little piece of advice this morning via email from someone who knew that I was having a hard time. He wrote,

“I encourage you to take the risk of seeing the joy in your life and letting the rest go.”

J would agree with that. See the joy. Forgive. Let it go.

I entered the D/s arena to learn just that; to learn to let go, to forgive, to embrace the joy in my life.

Learning about yourself, the good and the bad, is not easy, but we, in this ‘space’ as they like to call it, have the courage to go on that path of exploration.
Like J, we are doing our best to live with courage and honour; to ‘let go’. I think that really says something very positive about us all.

Friday, May 1, 2009

A soul kiss

“I’ve been trying not to notice
But girl you shine so bright
Like a shooting star
In the darkness of the night”

I have a Ray Charles CD in the music player in my bedroom at the moment, and these words play over and over in my mind.

Men are so attracted to a woman’s look. They are so visual, so smitten by a woman’s smile, or eyes, or the way her skirt caresses her ass. They notice her shoes, her stockings, her fingers, and the way she shakes her head and the movement of her hair. Nothing escapes them. I noticed a man watching me as I walked back to the car this morning, after taking the dog for her beauty session (read: clip and wash). I loved that he looked but of course, as soon as he saw me watching him watching me, he looked away. Don’t they teach guys to hold a woman’s gaze a little longer than that? Not that I was interested, but still, guys have to know these things!

Anyway, the point is, that the internet is an amazing sky, really, when you think about it. And a girl can shine bright without even being seen. Her mind can be like a shooting star. And, a man’s mind can be like a shooting star, too. It makes me wonder. Do we put too much stock into appearance? Is it not the mind that is more alluring than the body? I don’t know the answer. But, for two people to have a discussion that lasts a lifetime, surely it is the two minds that must be attracted, too.

When a person opens their mind to another; their heart, their soul and their mind, and the other person listens, it is uplifting. It is like a delectable little piece of ‘love’. It is a “soul kiss”. Janus taught me that phrase and I love it. When he used it, it wasn’t quite like that. We’d had a tiff and were making up and he asked me to tell him what I loved about him. You don’t need to be in love to give someone a soul kiss. But, you do need to really listen to someone well enough for them to know that you are listening carefully and that you care.

Take a risk! Give someone a soul kiss and see the joy you bring, to them and to yourself!