Anal training

Dolliz receive lotsa treynin and one of da important aspectz of treynin 4 a dolli: anal treynin. Dolliz go frum yoosin small pluggiz 2 yoosin big pluggiz, eventually. Anal treynin nut jus sumtin dat happenz haphazardli. It sumtin dat part of a dolliz lyf, day by day. It rel8z 2 da stretchiness coz da mor strechi da more dolli.

Wun ting about dolliz dat mebbe nut dat wel understood, dey nut necessarili abel 2 haf da self displin 2 do dis on der own. Sumtimz, dolliz sey 2 demseffz, "Hmmmm, mebbe 2nite cindi tek a break from da pluggi n go sleepiz ull on her own." Or, "Hmmmm, mebbe nut da beri big pluggi 2nite but da medium size pluggi".

Sumtimz, dolliz 4get sumtin beri beri importin n dat da reezun 4 ull da treynin; da point of ull da treynin.

So, cindi esked an important question:

"If given choice, witch pluggi wood da dolli chooz?"

Cindi just a dolli but reederz should nut confooz da dolli wif a total airhead. She no dat sumtin up wif dat question. She on high alert, if reederz ken follow her drift. She sey dat sumtimz she wood liki choose da medium size pluggi as an option.

"N y dat nut an opshin? she asked.

Hmmmmm. Time 4 cindi 2 use eberi last bit of brain power left.

"Wel, cindiz ass cunt in treynn n da mor strechi n da mor offen strechi da mor treynn 4 da asscunt."

Now she asked da question again, "Which pluggi cindi chooz?"

"Wel heer da ting; cindi tinki dat dis moot poynt coz she hab no choys."

Again she asked, "Which pluggi cindi chooz?"

It at dis poynt dat cindi can reeeeeeli feel da reziztenz. Dont maki da mistek of tinkin da dolliz nut feel rezizitenz. Dey beri wel behavd, naturelli, but dey ken still feel da rezizistens 2 cummandz jus liki da non-dolliz, n dat 4 sure. But, cindi no full well der only wun ansser dat get a mark. She no wot she must say:

"She chooz da big pluggi."

"Beri gud cindi. Go pluggi."

Of course, once cindi ull pluggi wif da big pluggi, she beri prowd of hersef n beri happi bout everetin.

Dat da wey it goes wif dolliz.

Respect

A discussion over coffee this morning with girls I know at the gym reminded me of how very fortunate I am to have been able to express my submissive nature; to have been accepted for my nature and to explore that nature in its full length and breadth. For it is a most vanilla world out there, away from these pages and others like it, where I have no hope of expressing my true nature or of being accepted for who I truly am.

In the group of women with whom I sat, there was talk of a woman whose marriage with a renowned surgeon crumbled because “she wanted too much sex”. And, there was a story of a couple who had been unable to consummate their marriages after ten years. In every example and comment there was mention of people unable to find satisfaction with the person with whom they shared their lives over some aspect of power, desire for affection or how to live their lives. There were a lot of really confused people, it seemed to me!

I had a strong reminder lately that in the kind of relationship where I function best and at my most happy and complete, there is deep respect. There is respect for me for the woman that I am, the whole woman, and there is respect for me for the particular needs that I have to be at the bottom of a power exchange. I am humbled and eternally grateful for that understanding and care.

Equally important is that I show and feel respect for the person on the top. It does not do me or the relationship we share the slightest bit of good for there to be doubt about who is leading whom. In my relationship, there are ways and means of expressing my point of view, of asking for something or even giving thanks for something. It is not my role to be anything other than pleasing. It is my role to use my talents to persuade, point out something, or offer my opinion in an appropriate manner.

Of all the lessons I have learned, I think this one has actually been the hardest one for me to put into action minute by minute and day by day. I have always had flashes of anger, or frustration or being peeved and from the moment we started dating it has bothered my husband and he has done his best to stamp it out. If I have to repeat myself three times because he has not heard me well enough, then so be it. Maybe next time I might get his attention first, or not be turned away when I talk to him. Frustration on my part, illustrated in the tone of my voice is not something he wants to hear.

I had a flash of anger several days ago and was met with instant dismissal. Much more punishing to me than getting a good telling off on the spot is dismissal. As so many submissives have said before me, it is the disconnection that is the punishment. In retrospect, it was a darn good call. It took me a full 24 hours to really understand that this situation was all my doing, and that it was I who had chosen to bring this on myself. No self respecting dominant is going to put up with a “mean and nasty” girl, as I was later called.

Of course, the correction imposed is really more like a salvation than a punishment for a correction/punishment is the beginning of a reconciliation of the dynamic: a cleansing of sorts and most submissives will do whatever necessary to make amends and be returned to good graces, I think.

I can say all of this because I am completely confident about who I am now and what I need and what my dominant needs, too. And I would not want to damage what I have for the world, for it has great value to me. Respect for one another is one of the great strengths of a high functioning power exchange relationship and to this end, a role model for any relationship between two people, surely.

I’ll be darned if I understand what the big deal is for those in vanilla land and why so few people actually understand the subtleties and strengths of the power exchange dynamic. I am still the same woman sitting there amongst those women this morning as I am here, yet I am unable to share this part of my life. I am unable to share that I am incredibly happy with my relationship for fear that I am seen as less because of my desire and need to be at the bottom of a profoundly moving and marvellously successful interpersonal relationship. And, that is just ignorant.

Embracing change

It is no surprise that a big part of me has gone into raising my children. But, the time has come when I can begin to see the fruits of my labor. Whilst I still have a child in tertiary education and one in high school, my two eldest are fully grown. My eldest son told me last night that he has now been to all seven continents and he travels again in a week or so for another month, including back to the state in the US where he was raised. I can already hear him telling me how small the house looked this time around. A Cape Cod style, it was indeed small although incredibly functional and we loved it to bits.

My daughter, who has also had a few journeys of her own, most notably her art classes in Florence when she fell in love with Italy, leaves tonight to travel all around Europe. She hopes to settle in London and live there for an indefinite period of time. Whilst I find myself with mixed feelings, for I shall miss her more than I can say as will we all, she leaves at my suggestion. My plan and my husband's plan right from the outset was to produce children who were savvy in the world, who embraced the world and its opportunities and who were independent enough to want to leave home and travel the world. We feel enormous pride in them for they are not only beautiful people on the outside but beautiful within, with a deep sense of care and respect for the family, their friends and all people with whom they come in contact. They are good people.

I'm not left alone. I accompanied my third child for his learner driver permit this past week and experienced his delight when he passed. For some reason or other, he has had a 'thing' about driving but we patiently waited and eventually he made the appointment himself. His quirkiness is challenging but his company always fun. And, my youngest son is the cuddliest and most lovable child you will ever met. Without his darling sister, his Mum will have her work cut out to give double the cuddles in an effort to fill the gaping hole in his life. No; not alone at all.

Yet, the door is well and truly open now for me to recognize and embrace that life has moved on to a new stage and so must I. The past year has been incredibly exciting,exhilarating and transforming and I hope it goes on that way. There are still secrets about me to unfold; secrets that I have kept even from myself and I look forward to the unfolding of them. I am not just a little bit kinky, I've discovered. I'm not at all ashamed of that any more. In fact, I am in a very happy place about that and when I get a chance to consider recent experiences, I'll put my thoughts down here.

I haven't been a person to fully accept the value of discipline in life. So, it is interesting to me that at this time I find myself revelling in the acceptance of disciplines into my life - of being expected to do certain things in a week; to wait for my treats, for example. I had no idea it could be this easy for me to accept discipline imposed. And, in the same way, perhaps it is time for me to embrace my desire to write - not in some haphazard way such as 'maybe I will and maybe I won't today' - but as in, here is what is expected for the week.

It is all part of a mindfulness that I look to bring into my life - to enjoy the present and to make the most of the present and to meet goals set for myself. Just don't expect me to stay dry eyed at the airport this evening.

Corrective procedures explained

Her father was a man of strong will and conviction and he had made up his mind that his only daughter would not be spoiled. He was convinced that whilst she should always be cared for very well, as he had always done, she was not to turn out like so many other girls from wealthy families; spoiled, precocious, demanding and with expectations that they should achieve nothing in their lives except how to use a credit card.

To this end, Clive Jameson decided to enrol his daughter in a small and specialized private school in the countryside where special care was taken that a girl achieved her absolute best, but that she also remain free from the influences of nasty and undisciplined brats as he has observed at her previous school.

Margaret did her best to try to persuade her father to allow her to stay at her school in the city but it was the temper tantrum she threw when he said 'no' to her that convinced him that this step was essential.

"Margaret, the matter is closed and I forbid you to bring it up with me again. At Ridgewood Academy you will receive excellent tutelage in your lessons and as well, you will receive discipline that will make you strong. I am doing this for your own good and one day you will thank me. Now, go to your room."

Margaret cried herself to sleep as loudly as she could so as to make her father feel sorry for what he had done but it had no effect at all. The next day they left for her new school. Her uniform would be provided by the school she was told so she had very little packed in her suitcase save for Monty her bear, and she prayed that he would not be taken from her. Though in her late teens, she was still young at heart.

The Headmaster greeted them in his office a few hours later and although he appeared stern he was not without warmth. He assured Margaret that although discipline at the school was strict, it was fair and equitable and that at his school she would be encouraged to impose self-discipline upon herself and to achieve at the highest standards. It was evident from her reports and tests, he said, that she was a most capable girl who could do better, and he intended to oversee that happy outcome himself.

Later, when her father had bid her goodbye and asked her to write regularly, she was taken upstairs to the Matron of the boarding house and it was through talking with her that she began to learn the ways of her new school. Poor behaviour, should that occur, was punishable in various ways but at Ridgewood Academy a different approach was taken than simply to punish bad behaviour after the fact.

Rather than punish a girl for poor behaviour, or achieving an inappropriate grade or for disrespectful conduct towards a Master or Mistress, it had been determined that all girls would receive a "correction" on a weekly basis. This correction would, in most cases, ensure that a girl understood that it was very much in her interests to avoid any further dealings with the Headmaster regarding inappropriate behaviour.

On Sunday evenings, immediately after the Chaplain's sermon girls should meet in the assembly hall (the room with no chairs) where they should stand up straight in lines with their hands clasped behind their backs. One by one, their names would be called and when Margaret's name was called she should immediately move forward to the front of the room and stand in front of the oak table.

When given the command she should take down her panties (regulation black) and bend across the desk, whereupon the Headmaster would raise her skirt to reveal her bare buttocks to the whole school. She should remain totally still (unless, of course, she wished strokes repeated) and receive 12 hard strokes of the cane. These strokes would be administered in a manner whereby it was hoped that marks would remain all week. This, it was deemed, would enable all girls to sit on a well marked and bruised backside for the duration of the week thereby ensuring that a girl was continually reminded of the expectations of Ridgewood - high academic achievement, superb manners and total obedience.

Naturally, Matron explained, there was the odd exception to the rule and from time to time, a girl did act inappropriately at some stage during the week, in spite of the stripes offered to her each Sunday evening. In this case, a note was made in her file and she was offered an extra six sound stripes to her buttocks and thighs on the following Sunday evening. Without exception, these extra stripes had convinced all girls, so far, of the best road for her to take.

"Do you have any questions, Margaret? Is there anything you would like to say?" asked Matron.

"No, Ma'am."

"You would not like to express your thanks for your acceptance at Ridgewood Academy and the opportunity to excel?"

"Ohhhh, yes, I would, Ma'am. Thank you for having me here Ma'am. I am very grateful for the opportunity afforded me to learn my lessons."

"That's the way, Margaret. Be sure to give your thanks to Headmaster on Sunday evening, after your first caning - always very sound. Headmaster is a most committed man and puts a lot of effort into his work."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good girl. Run along now."

Without realizing it, as Margaret opened the door with one hand she was rubbing her bottom with the other.

And, well she might!

About cindi

As much as we might try to 'walk in the other man's shoes', we never really can know what it is like to live the life of another person. We can empathize and do our best to understand, but we cannot experience life as he or she experiences it. And, in the same way, a person may keep a web journal, and people may stumble upon it and read it but never really understand what that person is trying to say. Keeping a web journal is rather unlike story telling or writing a novel, because in those instances, the story can be crafted to be appealing to many people, with a beginning, a middle (a crisis perhaps) and an end. Web journals are not really stories in the sense that they are not crafted. In any case, my web journal is not crafted but rather a diary of sorts; of my life and the thoughts in my head.

It has been said to me that my web journal is indicative of who I am. I am "serving" the perverts (and I mean that in the nicest of ways, of course). I admit that sometimes I am motivated by the desire to help or educate. I have a desire to give hope to those who want to turn their lives around in some way; to make a difference through sheer will. I was in a dark place before I found the light, and if my experiences can assist someone else out there to find their bit of light, then that would make me very happy. I actually trained as a teacher, so that motivation is there within me.

But, I would be lying if I said anything other than this: that I write here regularly because wild horses could not stop me. I have a strong desire to write and an even stronger desire to write about submission and dominance. I love to read about it, to write about it and to discuss it. It is magic to me; the opportunity to feel completely me.

I can appreciate that my efforts to explain 'cindi' and that place I go as 'cindi' may not be appreciated or desired reading for some people. If that is true, it changes nothing. I chronicle my experiences as I do because that is what is honest and true and I have no interest in doing things any other way. But, perhaps I, as Vesta can assist (and it is one of the reasons I maintain that persona) in explaining 'cindi' a little, to those who wish to understand.

I doubt you can create an alter ego (an ego less state) such as cindi if it is not there in the first place. Yes, I was led towards that persona but I most certainly did not need to be dragged. I did not just go willingly towards her but with a rush of excitement and thrill that can only occur if she had already lived within me. Her 'birth' was one of the most thrilling days of my life and she finds expression in almost every day of my life.

Far from living only in the bedroom (although she certainly does shine in that room) she is a part of my every day and night. She finds expression in every choice I make: how to communicate with my husband, how to make use of my day, what to eat, what to wear; how to think about myself and how to think about my body. The opportunity to let her breathe and shine and express herself in her own inimitable way has made me breathtakingly happy. Just when I think that I have reached the crescent of the hill in terms of happiness, I find that perhaps the opportunities for happiness for cindi are limitless.

It is such a formidable task to explain all this. But, let me put it this way and see if it helps. A few days ago I was watching a documentary about the remaking of 'A Chorus Line' on Broadway. The dancers/singers/actors were subject to recalls, those of them selected, and of course they were very anxious. One girl said this (or thereabouts):

"Dancing is the best part of me. I am only really alive when I am on the stage.

I connected with that for when cindi is on show, I feel most alive. cindi is the best part of me.

It is not lost on me that I had 'Lady Luck' on my side. I had the opportunity to speak with someone who somehow intuitively sensed this about me. And, as someone dear said to me, either I have been very lucky or I have had exquisite intuition about people for my relationships/friendships in this space have worked out so very well.

To those few out there for whom these ramblings might mean something, let me say this. It is not dumb to let yourself go. It is not foolish to allow your inner voice to be aired. Follow your heart. Make use of your instincts and use your god-given intuition. There is hard work to be done to find and embrace your submissive voice, if that is what you want, but also a sense of peace, happiness and fulfilment that will blow you away.

Focus on the picture, cindi

She was all tied up. Her wristz were tied tight to the right bedpost and her anklz were bownd just as tightly to the left bedpost. She lay on her tummy, ull stetched owt.

She was totalli silent but soon fownd a cocki gag fill her mof cunt enewey.

"How duz that feel, cindi? Try mooving and see if you can."

She tryd 2 moove but fownd that she had no where 2 go.

"Ohhhh, the bimbo cannot move et ull! How duz it feel cindi to have no cuntrol et ull?"

Cindi sed nuttin. She jus suckd away on her gaggi.

"Now, cindi, onnir has his cane and cindi needz 2 get sum correkshin with the cane. Onnir is just going 2 warm you up."

As he warmed her up, she nestled down in2 that place she went when ull cuntrol had been removed. But, as he began 2 bring da cane down hardr n hardr, she wood stop suckin 4 a moment and try 2 verbalize her reakshin 2 dat.

"Cindi, listen 2 onnir: Think of wun of those pikkiz on your tumbler site. Pick your favorit pikki, cindi and focus on dat. Think, cindi! Have you got the pikki firmly in your mind?"

She instantly tot abowt da pikki of da gurl suckin on da man's cocki, and da udder man feelin her pussy cunt, and da udder persun beehind her caning her bare bottom and making strypz. She luvd dat pikki soooo much!

She nodded her head and began to sucki beri vigorously.

"Good, cindi! Now letz get down to bizness."

He brought down his cane with vigor, time after time and she suckd away wif all her might, wif her favorit pikki in her mind, just as she had been told 2 do.

"Beri gud, cindi."

She soooo obeedient!

It

Have you any idea how much It tinglz?
Can you understand how much It stirs to receive a cummand?
Will you ever know how It revels in the tango danced?
How It delightz in the feast of frivoliti and fun?

To be known only as It , all of It;
more than It could ever have asked 4.

You can't ignore the universe

I had a coffee out with my daughter this afternoon and she told me of her troubles with her boyfriend; that now that her departure overseas for an extended period is imminent, he has withdrawn from her, barely able to speak to her. We sat there trying to analyze the fellow. Was he too attached to her and shattered by her imminent departure to be able to speak to his girl now that she was almost (temporarily) out of his life? Was he hurt? What the hell was the boy thinking to act in such a childish way as to not talk to her??!!

She told me she heard my husband and I talking last night in that passionate way we do, and that it was so different; that we just said everything that was on our minds. We are still intently passionate about one another and a fight does not seem to do us any real harm. We talk through what is on our minds and clear the air. He thinks that is entirely healthy and he tells me that all women like me need me a "safety valve", where the steam can find its way out. Certainly, he makes use of his safety valve regularly and it is a rare day when I don't know exactly what is on his mind!

It was interesting to talk to him in bed this morning. He told me that he read my tumbler site for ages last night and that he learned something; that I am a very kinky girl, with a particularly dirty (but in a nice way) mind. He said that what I was doing, exploring my submissive and kinky side was right for me; that being dominated was right for me, and that I should never even think of giving up. He told me that I "thrive on the stick" (!!) and being lead. And, I don't disagree with any of that.

I am learning things about myself all the time; even now. I am becoming a better person and a happier and more enriched person. I think there is still work to be done in working out how to be that submissive and kinky person that I want to be, yet be able to express all my emotions in a satisfactory way. I want to express my submissive nature right throughout the day and every day, but still have the opportunity to share what is on my mind in a way that is pleasing and acceptable and allows me to feel that my thoughts are recognized and considered.

As it was pointed out to me today, if the pilot dies, I won't jump into the seat to fly the plane. I am not the person best equipped to fly the plane, or even drive my own life. I like very much having an owner and living 'an owned life'. However, I do need to sometimes express my less positive emotions and I need to know that that is okay.

As my daughter is trying to explain to her boyfriend, she would rather hear what is on his mind, whatever it is, than endure his silence. Silence may work in the short term, but as my dear friend pointed out to me this morning, "the more you ignore the universe, the louder it gets until it gets your attention". Every girl should have such a wise and good friend!

Frustration

It pleased me to see upon a search of this web journal that I have very rarely mentioned 'frustration'. I mentioned it in the last post and according to the record, back in March 2009 when I wrote a post about 'anxiety'. That's not bad.

For, you see, I do experience considerable frustration. As I wrote to my husband just now,

"It is a very, very hard thing to live through someone else - for their wants and desires and ways of doing things; their priorities and their interests to be the sole arbiter of what happens; to expect a person to have eternal patience and to never express frustration and thus, by inference to never HAVE frustration."

Rightly or wrongly, I have tried my absolute best to be satisfied with living my life according to my husband's version of the world. From time to time, I mention that it will be great when we can do this or that, but apart from that, I really just nod when he tells me something, accept his decisions, patiently wait for him to attend to something (or not), and in a nutshell, just wait.

I've become good at this - at living according to the desires and decisions of another person; at keeping my frustrations well hidden and distracting myself in order not to be upset that the things that I would love to see take place, do not.

I think I could have gone on with this positive spirit almost forever...until that moment two days ago when I did express a very minor amount of frustration and experienced his wrath that I should do so.

I'm not an angel. I'm not a perfect person. I'm just one human being doing her best to be pleasing; patient, considerate, understanding, calm and patient.

I just can't seem to get over it. I am shattered that he can't apologize for upsetting me so.

I have asked him to look inside himself - to try to understand how hard I work to see the world through his eyes and to put aside my own wishes. For me, this was what it was all about - to make for a life of harmony - to find a way to go beyond the everyday.

I can't seem to bounce back up this time.

Who needs to change?

Five years ago, on that evening when I asked my husband to spank me for the first time I had no notion of ‘submission’. I didn’t know what a ‘submissive’ was and nor did I have any real desire to live the life of a submissive. Certainly, I knew at that time that I wanted a certain ‘feeling’ in my life; something that I had tasted and found very much to my liking. But, not even knowing that there was a ‘lifestyle’, I could have no sense back then, of what was possible or even if it would work for us.

I recall the first time I seriously wondered about it all as it pertained to me. Abel, my email buddy from England asked me if I was a “submissive”. I didn’t think so, I said, for I didn’t know to what he referred. From that moment I began to read, and the rest of the story, or at least the parts I have shared, can be found on this web journal.

Being married to a dominant man is not easy, or at least that is my experience. It was not easy before I explored and acknowledged my nature, and it is not easy now. And, I think it is important to say that; that there is nothing especially easy about living with a man who wants to do things a certain way; when he wants to do them, how he wants to do them, and if he wants to do them. As much as I might on any one day think I have it licked, something happens to fill me with confusion and upset, and I find myself doubting our agreement. It passes. I believe that is the good news and it is what I hold onto in my darkest moments, but it would be wrong of me, on a web journal where young people or interested people may read, to not acknowledge that there are some very difficult moments.

As my husband has grown older, he has become more and more dominant. As a young man, he always knew what he wanted and how he wanted to go about things. I was never, even in our twenties, able to convince him to do something that he did not want to do. It did not matter if I begged, or cajoled, or was upset, or cried, or sweet talked him, he only did something that he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. I cannot say for certain if that is just him, or if that is the nature of a dominant man, but he has always been assertive and sure of how he wanted to go about things.

He tells me that I was a candidate for marriage because I had a sweet nature and was “soft and kind”. He came to see, he also tells me, that I was more “committed” than he anticipated.

“Sometimes, you just won’t let the bone go!” he says to me.

We have had the most extraordinary weekend. Away from one another for the week, he clearly wanted to show me a good time. We spent a good deal of the weekend together, and I was dominated in the bedroom in all sorts of delicious ways for hours on end. I felt wonderful and savoured every moment of it, from the hard spanking to pay off the “black marks” I have earned to the use of my body in all sorts of devilish ways. As we set off for our walk with the dogs mid Sunday afternoon, I felt totally dreamy and delighted to have my ‘oh so dominant’ man back in my life.

My husband tells me, and he is probably right, that after I have been sexually dominated, I can get “full of myself”. He warned me of this right after we got dressed.

“Now, you just watch your manners! You can get full of yourself after you’ve been shown a good time, and I won’t tolerate any misbehaviour. Do you understand?”

I understood. I had no intention of misbehaving.

Later on, back home, I began to do some gardening. I was tiring and wanting to complete tasks, but not able to do them by myself, I became frustrated. My training is that I should ask for help (nicely, of course) when I need it. Thus, I decided to go and search out my husband and ask for a few moments of his time to lift the heavy bins of garden waste and carry them to the garage for me.

I know full well that it is imperative that I not express any frustration in my voice when I ask my husband for something. He loathes to be made to feel guilty and he feels that it is my role to ask, in a sweet voice, for his assistance. If he can help me at that time, he will. If he can’t, he won’t and I will just have to wait for another time. I am expected to be patient – to be patient for years and years, if necessary.

I am. I am a patient person. And, I have shown patience for years. I have learned to be patient, tolerant and understanding and I think even he would admit that I have given him all the space he needs to do things in his own way, at his own pace, how and when he wants to do them.

But, for some stupid reason, when I asked him if he would please help me with the heavy bins, there was some slight frustration in my voice which he picked up. I got told off for that.

“This evening, or in the morning, I will teach you how to ask for help.”

Well, it was my mistake! I know him well enough that I must ask for help in the right way. So, I took my spanking this morning with good grace.

Or, so I thought. Somewhere deep inside me, there must have been a little bit of rebellion because when he was through, shortly thereafter, I heard myself say

“When is your appointment with the doctor?”

It was a red rag to the bull. He knew he was overdue to see him, that I wanted him to see him, and he considered this an effort on my part to bully him into making an appointment.

So, I got it in the neck!

“When are you going to learn that the more you ask me to do something, the longer it will take for me to do it?”

When my husband really upsets me, I don’t talk back. I go silent. I am just too upset to talk. Nothing upsets him more. The more I don’t talk, the more he will have to say to me about my “behaviour”, and the more silent I get. We reach a point where he feels I am completely to blame and I reach a point where his raised voice and tone becomes the issue in my mind. I can’t settle my mind to acknowledge my wrong doing. It is the classic ‘catch 22’.

Of course, we have lived with one another for over 30 years now and it doesn’t take long for me to realize that I am the one who must change. He cannot change and he won’t change. He is completely right. He will do things when he wants to do them, how he wants to do them and if he wants to do them. I must adjust to him; not the other way round.

I have a submissive nature and he has been wonderful in acknowledging it and recognizing my needs. But, make no mistake. A non-submissive girl would never have ‘cut the mustard’ with him. And, that, my friends, is the bottom line.

Stability

She felt a restlessness that caught her by surprise and threw her off balance. Her chest was tight again and her breathing chaotic. She roamed her horizon for something, or someone to blame but found no offence nor event to explain the feeling. She simply wanted more. She wanted to feel more intensely. Feel what? She was not sure.

But, she had a sense that she wanted to be swept up in the big waves: not the still waves of the shore that she was accustomed to now but the big waves: the waves that scared her and the waves she did not know how to handle.

She remembered the big waves from all of the summers. She had never really learned the skills to handle the big waves, with a board or her own body. Instead of riding the waves, she let them toss and turn her until they broke over her and she could come up for air: gasping and pulling her hair away from over her eyes. It seemed to her she would never tame those waves, and yet she went back for one more try, every now and again. In her mind, she was trying yet again to ride the big waves, all by herself.

A memory popped into her head. They had been up North and she felt out of control. Her owner had got very cross with her and before he took her to the beach, he had slapped her hard and she wore a red mark to that beach. She was embarrassed to admit even to herself that it calmed her. He took her deep into the water with her board, where the big waves lay and he put her on her board and pushed hard.

She was riding the wave and she felt elated to be doing so. She had needed some help to ride that wave but even so, now she was triumphing over the wave! She felt so close to him for giving her that; her stability.

She was sometimes restless. She was sometimes saved from herself.

Training - back to basics

Controversially, in my discussions with dominant men over time, I personally, and submissive women generally, have been compared to dogs; the training, keeping and owning of dogs as pets. I have an open mind, a good sense of humour and an interest in comparing one thing with another in the light of learning more, and I have enjoyed and benefitted from those discussions.

Some readers may recall that I have two little puppies and it is not lost on me that they need training, order and discipline in their lives if we are to live in harmony, peace and order. Whilst there were days when I was so mad with them I got the children to give them their dinner rather than be seen to reward them for such atrocious behaviour, some semblance of order now reigns at my home in the city. For one thing, my husband established himself as ‘top dog’ and they get that point now, loud and clear. Things were going along well - until my mother arrived.

My mother has always had a very strong connection with dogs. Her dogs live lives of luxury and she rotates her life around them. Their comfort and wants and needs are all well under control living with my mother; the best beds and blankets and food and warmth and so on. Of course, I concur with taking very good care of a pet but I don’t condone allowing a dog (or dogs in this case) to rule my life.

Thus it is that this submissive girl has just made a line in the sand. My little dogs have just been put outside on their leads attached to a long rope, where they not may pee in my house, may not run about the open garden where we currently are in the country to wander onto the road, may not choose to come to us only when it pleases them. They will stay on their leads until it suits us (and not them) to take them for a long and fun walk off their leads where it is safe for them and they will learn to come inside when they are called. I am insisting after several days of high disorder that they accept that they are to do the right thing whether my mother and her naughty dog is here or not.

A dominant friend of mine, clever man that he is, said to me recently that he didn’t believe all my talk that I was an ineffectual mother, unable to rule my roost. I giggled, for he is exactly right. I am incredibly good to my children but woe betides them when they behave in obnoxious and downright upsetting ways. They know what is right and what is wrong, just as my puppies know too, and I won’t be taken advantage of, just because I have a submissive nature.

It is no co-incidence that I married the man I married. He calls a spade a spade and he always has done so. He has standards and no child, so far, has been willing to take him on in any major way. He’s the boss and we adhere to his high standards of behaviour. If he were here, those naughty puppies would never have behaved so disgracefully and taken such advantage of my kind mother. They would have accepted that the boss was home and they would do what is right. This is what upsets me so; that they can take such advantage of sensitive souls.

Over the years when we were bringing up the children, children with strong minds and strong opinions, I found myself saying over and over to my husband, “I can’t believe that they would treat me so.” I often thought that my deep, deep love for them should be enough for them to behave themselves.

“Oh darling, it doesn’t work like that,” my husband would explain to his teary wife. “They are children! They don’t look at it that way. You need to set rules and have structure and you have to tell them what you expect.”

I am not sure that today is the day to compare such raising of children and dogs with the development of a submissive girl. (Can you tell I am a bit emotional?) Would a submissive girl take advantage of a man who was too soft? Does a submissive girl need some guidelines as to how to behave? Such dangerous territory this!

Day dream

Cindi wokiz erli in da mornn ull lone in her bed n her pussy cunt beri needi. So, cindi tuchi hessef n as she tuchi hessef she begin 2 haf vivid deydreem:

She in bed wif her onnir n she nut haf enetin on her bodee. She nut eben werin pluggiz. She fast sleepiz wen she feel her onnir roll her oba from her syd 2 her bak. She nut rezizt in ene wey n he enter her pussy cunt wif his cocki n he yoos her. A few minutz l8r he tern her ova on2 her tummi n he tel her 2 neel on her neez wif her tummi on the bed, ull strechi owt n he enter her ass cunt n he yoos her der 2. Wen redi, he cum insyd her.

By now, cindi wyd wakiz n onnir tellz her 2 go toylet whyl he runs a baf. He has shower himself whyl she sits waytn n wen redi, he has her stand in baf whyl he washz her – her sholderz n brestz n arms n hands n bak n tummy. Den he has her kneel in da baf faysn wey from him n he telz her 2 push owt pussy cunt n ass cunt n he washz dem beri well 4 her.

Afta she ull scrubbd, he towelz her dry n he dressz her in a loose fittin skert n a bra n pretty top n sandalz, sum silver jewelri, n he send her down 2 prepare da brekfist.2getha dey haf breakfast – sum scrambled eggz n towst – but he tel her 2 bring him his tee in2 da studee, where he workiz 2dey. She ken tek her tym, he tel her n haf her tee n reed her paper ferst – der no hurri – 10 oclok ok.

Wen cindi enterz da studi she poot da trey of tee – teepot n cup n sorca n juga milk – on da desk n he tel her 2 sit on da woodn seet he keep on da udda syd of his desk. Of cors, she spred her cheekz as she leend 2 do b4 she sit her cheekz direktli on da seet. She neva wer panteez at her onnirz insistens n so she feel radda vulnibil ull da tym but speshelli at dis momen. Onnir wans 2 talkiz wif her. He tank her 4 his tee n he tel her how pleezd he wif her. She gud bimbo n beri well behavd. Dus she unnerstan dat he ken do enetin he wan? Woteba pleez him?

She assoor him she unnerstan dat, n he prayz her 4 her gud behavyor. Dus she haf her pluggi wif her as she no 2 do? Of cors, she duz. She tek her pluggi owt of her pocket. She bring pluggi in a pretty velvet bag n she hand da bag 2 her onnir.

“Gud bimbo”

“Mek yor wey ova 2 yor displin bench now whyl onnir finish his tee.”

Cindi goz ova 2 her displin bench. It a wooden bench but it speshelli desynd wif a soft letha cervd seat 4 her tummi n high at wun end so dat it present her ass cheekz wel. At da udder end it haf a plays 4 her 2 strech owt her armz n rest her handz n she hold on2 da bar firmlee so dat she gud bimbo n stey stil 4 her onnir.

Wen redi, onnir cumz ova 2 da bench n lift up cindiz skert. He loob bimbo n pluggi n he playz da hooooj pluggi – mr big – in her asscunt. She meow bit but he ignor dat.

“Skweez, bimbo,” he sey and she skweez n skweez.

Afta dat, bimbo jus gettn yoosd 2 da new sens8shun of pluggi wen she feel onnir poot her cocki gag in2 her mofcunt n fill dat hol 2. It lung cocki gag n her mof radda full but she ken suki on da gag n she begin 2 do dat 4 cumfort.

“Onnir goin 2 spankiz cindi wif a letha paddle 2dey. Spankiz beri gud for cindi n eneweyz it pleez onnir 2 tern cindiz bottom beri red. Redi cindi?”

She nod her hed.

“Gud bimbo.”

Onnir begin 2 paddel cindiz bottom n he wak her wif da paddle hard. Beri soon her bottom ull shadz of red n it bern. Cindi stert 2 maki noysz threw da cocki gag dat she nut liki dat paddle but if onnir heer, he nut pay attenshun 2 dat n he keep paddelin wey. He definitlee njoy paddlin cindi n he nut wanna stop eben do cindiz bottom extremelee red n sor lookn now.

She beegn 2 akt liki hors. She begin 2 nay, moovin her hed up n down n stompn her feet, do she hold on2 da bar beri beri tyteli wif her hanz.

Ventooli her onnir poot down da paddle and rub her bottom bit 2 releees da sting n he tel cindi he prowd of her 4 taki her spankiz wel. It so gud 4 her he sey 2 haf sor bottom 2 sit down on.

No sooner has onnir sey dat, n wif her asscunt filld n her mof cunt filld, she heer him upzip his trowzerz n meediatlee afta da, she feel him push in2 her pussy cunt.

Da moment he duz dat, enter her pussy cunt, dat beri second, she feel da enromus push on her – on her filld pussycunt n da pressur on her assplug n she experiens intens n mediat orgazmz dat haf her leev dis werld. She feel da orgasm so intenslee n wif ull her holz filld, she no lunga enetin. Her mynd completlee blank 2 enetin et ull sept her sooblym plezer n fulfilment n ull she ken do, bello liki a cow. She jus a nuttin – a ting makin a bellown sown.

Wen she stert 2 tink she ken bello no mor n der joos runnin down her chin n da pressur sooo intens on her bodee, he cum deep insyd her pussy cunt. 2getha dey bof bello now n she feelz lite aza fetha n totalle happi n kerfree. She njoyz him fillin her up wif his cum.

Onnir haf sum tissooz n he wipe wey da hooj mownta joos runnn from her b4 he run his hanz ova her bak n bottom, prayzn her n telln her how much he luv his bimbo. She savorz dis momen.

Ventooli, he poot down her skert n he tel her stand n he teki wey her cocki gag n wipe her chin. He hug her n she hug him bak.

“Wot bimbo sey?”

“Tanki onnir 4 da yoos. Cindi njoy beri much. Cindi luvz onnir.”

“N onnir luvz cindi. Tym 4 workiz now cindi. Off u go n do yor chorz.”

“Yes, onnir.”

Cindi leevz da studi wif da trey; beri, beri happi. She nut memba wen she wuns jus gurl. She beri happi she bimbo; tranformd.

Giving and receiving

A significant component of my 'training' has been to let go of anxiety; not to worry unduly. And, for that, I am truly grateful. I am given periods of time where I need not worry at all. The daily concerns of life, practical matters, are not appropriate for me and I am instead focussed on pleasure. My service is in being joyful and focussed on pleasure and in this way, I serve. I do not so much 'give' as the other 'takes' - feeds on my joy and pleasure and in doing so, finds his own pleasure and joy. It works divinely well.

I have come to realize that I am the product of two overly anxious parents. My father was a restless soul who felt obliged to worry about large and small matters in equal measure. But, in comparison to my mother, he was quite relaxed. That was not so obvious to me when they were both alive since it seemed that my father expressed his dissatisfactions and my mother did everything she could to satisfy him. If he was happy, she was happy.

Simce his death, it has become apparent that he did an excellent job in keeping her on an even keel. If she worried about something he might dismiss the concern, assuring her that it was all under control . And, his dismissal of the concern was all she needed, I now realize, since she did 'drop it' at his insistence.

But, now that he is gone, her anxieties are there in all their glory with no one to set her straight. She is staying with me at the moment and I experience her mind flitter from one thought to the next without any reason or rythme. One minute she worries that the dogs need to be walked and no sooner do we do that than we are obsessing about some governmental decision or action. Immediately after we get home from an afternoon of shopping she asks me what is for dinner, who will get the wood, where the children are and what is the plan for tomorrow. 'Resting' her restless mind is something that she does not do.

She is incredibly kind and well meaning but her natural inclination is to micromanage and to see her way of thinking as the 'right' way. It is rare for her to not talk. Frankly, it exhausts me (hence this post, which is my 'time out' for the day) and I find myself wondering if there is something, anything at all, to encourage her to just relax and let go. I know that I am 'whistling Dixie' on this score and that we will all run around pleasing her on any number of tasks in the hope that she might reach a point where all anxieties are satisfied and she is totally relaxed. I do wonder if, without my father alive, it will ever happen.

Women are such multi taskers; running about pleasing their men and families; desperately wanting everybody to be happy that they forget they can overdo it. Sometimes, people want nothing more of them than to just relax and stop worrying: to simply 'let go'.

I initiated a conversation with my husband in the car recently, worried about a financial matter.

"Leave it to beaver. That is my job."

And, he was absolutely right. Our pact is that I do not worry about matters that are in his domain. What is the point of my worry? I cannot change a thing.

I am, thankfully, well trained enough these days to recognize that I experience my own share of anxiety; immensely eager for those I love to be happy, healthy and enjoying life. But, I have come to accept what I can and cannot effect in life. Most importantly, I have come to see the enormous merit in taking time to let go of all earthly worries for periods of time. The 'practical life' no longer exists and for an hour or so, I am simply a 'thing' - an object of pleasure who provides those special others in my life with an abundance of joy.

Born with a racing mind that is not just a relief. It is the greatest of blessings. Nourished, I may again return to the world and fulfil all my roles; content that my inner self has found expression. Joy, I have discovered is the gift that keeps on giving for the more I experience it myself, the more of myself I can give.