The Simple Life

There is not just me - there is another person inside of me, always competing for space.Take right now as an example: I've agreed to meet a group of women in the city for what is likely to be a fun night out. I'm all dressed up and ready to go to the train shortly and I know that accepting the invitation was not only the right thing to do but an event I wanted to attend. And yet, the other side of my personality is berating me for accepting an invitation so soon after arriving home, amassed in work at home and groggy with jet lag. The other side of my personality wants to have a bath, put on her nightie, tuck down on the couch with a blanket and watch the royal wedding.

I often feel that the goal is simplicity - a state of mind that is restful; not at all restless; patient and understanding; compliant and able to accept. But, that is not all of me. Inside, I'm irked my shoddy behaviour, low standards; incompetence; neglect. I've been known to talk to myself in the shower which I think of as synonymous with a man who must punch a hanging ball. I need to expunge my inner thoughts and frustrations which are not the least suited to a woman attempting to be as close as she can to a perfect doll.

I know what I should be, how I should think and act but my independent streak; the woman who simply wants what she wants in the moment (her own way)sometimes shouts me down.

And yet, when I come up against a dominant force, regularly and decisively, the other side goes away. Little miss independence and little miss judgemental and little miss 'you can't tell me what to do!' can't begin to compete with the lure of pleasure and joy that I feel when immersed in the game; when I feel contained and restrained; when I bunker down into my submissive space. When the dominant force is abundant and strong, there are no competing interests. I'm aware of the ownership; of the limits; the containment and I send the other personality packing; wondering what I ever saw in her; that girl who has so much to say; to think; to fuss about.

When the dominant force is absent I am more complex. TruIy, I yearn for the simple life: contained, restrained, limited; joyously boxed into the tightest space. A dominant force is my life force; a simple state of mind; a simpler me.

Grounded

Life has a way of bringing you down to ground fast. There was a twelve hour turn around between my husband collecting me from the airport and the taxi driver knocking on the door to whisk my husband away back to the airport and out of my arms. It is only 6 am and technically I could sleep for another hour before I wake my son for the first day of a new school term, but jet lag suggested that writing, plopped up on pillows in bed might be a better way to spend the time.

Twenty four hours of sitting in a plane (and we honestly did do that due to issues with flights) has a way of insisting that you submit - submit to the fact that if you want to live in Australia and travel to the UK or the US, you have to sit tight and accept the restrictions.

This time, not only was I submitting to the geography of the world, but I was returning home after nearly three weeks of doing exactly as I pleased. It was I who decided what to do with my day, how to do it, what to spend money on, where to go and how to get there. I basked in the luxury of being responsible for no-one but myself. If I wanted to walk in Kensington Gardens at first light and eat Eggs Royale and drink jasmine tea at the Serpentine Restaurant watching London wake up, then that is exactly what I did.

It didn't take long for my husband to set me straight when I returned home.

"You're not used to having a dominant around, are you?"

"Not at all," I replied, cheekily.

"Then, let's start as we mean to go on, shall we? Bend over the bed and I'll fetch the cane."

"But, I don't like the cane."

"That's why you must have it."

After that, he yoosd his girl and suddenly it all came flooding back - the value of being an owned girl and having a dominant in one's life. Eggs Royale was delicious but if I had to choose between this or that, I confess I'll take this. Simply delish!

Submission more right than ever

The past two weeks have been a very special time for me. I have loved my time in London and my daughter assures me I have seen more of London now than most Londoners. I really have done a great many things.

The past few weeks have been a burst of independence for me. Perhaps it was inevitable that by embracing this opportunity - opening my mind to all sorts of opportunities and ideas - that I might forget myself a tad. I confess that for a time a daily ritual was not adhered to.

I don't believe in giving excuses because I am responsible for the decisions I make but I do want to say that living in such close quarters with my daughter (who for now is entirely vanilla) made it difficult to behave in my usual way. Nonetheless, there is an issue of non-compliance which will no doubt be addressed in good time and I, of course, accept and expect that. If an owned girl can't comply with simple commands then there is a big problem that requires correction. Happily, I am back on track with that.

Time without his girl has most definitely set my owner's mind thinking and he has informed me that he wants to embrace our power exchange in a more complete way and that if I accept this, and of course I do, that issues such as non-compliance and poor behaviour might find me in rather uncomfortable positions. As I said to him, if he wants that, then I want that.

This has been a period of extraordinary growth for me in a great many ways. I can feel myself bursting over with ideas and thoughts, but no thought is greater in my mind than that I love being an owned girl: that I embrace my limits and containment with a song in my heart and that I am thankful to have the attention and care to which I have become so accustomed.

I revel in my submission, deplore disconnection, adore my relationships and embrace myself for who and what I am. A shot at independence has cemented in my mind just how right this life is for me. Nebr feer: da bimbo bak soon.

Enlightenment

One of the challenges of being a parent is to accept that your children are not little miniatures of yourself; that any child you produce for the world may be very much like you or not like you at all. All my four children are very unique beings, quite different to one another in most ways except to say that they are all good people and all quite soft and caring sort of people.

Their upbringing is very different to mine and of course, the world has moved on since I was growing up and being, say, 23 years old now is rather different to being 23 years old 25 years ago, I think. What people of that age want out of life could well be vastly different than what we wanted back then at that age. Contemporary culture and childhood experiences are going to shape us in ways we don't quite know and the challenge is not to judge and to understand that we all have our separate journeys through life; that no one can really hurry someone along; that maturity and knowledge and wisdom and fulfilment will come when the time is ready. As my boss used to say when I wouldn't heed his advice, "I guess you have to make your own mistakes."

One of the experiences I knew I wanted to have in London was to go to a Church service at Westminster Abbey. I was happy to go alone but my daughter insisted she was happy to come along. Plans with young people change minute by minute I find, and Saturday evening had her having drinks with a man friend whilst Sunday morning found them both hung over. Nevertheless, both of them agreed to come along and so off we went to Westminster Abbey.

I love churches. Something happens to me when I walk into any church, but to walk into Westminster after a period of 30 years since I have last been there was truly profound. It is such a beautiful church and the service this morning which focused on the death of Christ was a very beautiful one with a great deal of divine choral singing. The sound emanating through the Cathedral was so intensely beautiful that I found tears pouring down my face. I was deeply moved to hear such beauty amongst the splendour of the Abbey. It was one of those moments when you feel very close to your maker and when the reason for being here on this earth seems very clear. It was a coming together of the person from my past and the person who I am now - both of those people always in search of beauty, of grace and of deep meaning but in somewhat different ways.

It saddened me then and it saddens me now as I write to recognize that my daughter got so little out of the experience. Yet, I could be wrong about that. Perhaps one day on reflection it will mean a great deal - one day when she is ready to look at life with a bit more contemplative thought. I guess you would be right if you thought that I was missing my husband at that moment. He would have adored the Abbey and the service and completely understood my tears and my sense of being overwhelmed by the spectacular beauty.

Since I was often alone as a child, my world was of my own making and perhaps it is the reason why I have a strong and vivid inner life. My imagination always keeps me company. I read a lot and I have a hunger to see the places I have read about. It is why I find such wonder in being in London. Perhaps, it is why I can enter into the world of cindi with such ease and why I embrace her so completely. I see nothing wrong with, and never have, creating alternate realities. I've read on other peoples' blogs comments about that recently and of course I agree that it is entirely healthy to radiate in the pleasure and relaxation of creating an alternate experience other than just the "real world".

Yet as much as I can relate to creating alternate realities (my eldest son had two imaginary friends that we refer to to this day), I seek much more. Constantly, I await those rare but very precious moments when I may be transported higher; lifted spiritually off the ground and into the space of mind that can only be described as "the divine". I wait and wait for those moments and when they come, I feel a radiance and a sense of being filled with purity that is like no other feeling in the world. Sometimes, every so often, my submissive response takes me to that spiritual lightness of being. I was most certainly there today in the Abbey.

If I could give my daughter, my sons but one gift in life it would be to experience the sense of completeness that I felt today and that I have experienced in moments of submission and love. Whether they will ever know what I know, I cannot say. Perhaps it is not my job to be concerned about this and on their own personal journeys through life they will come to know things that I will never know. Such is life. I continue to hope that they may experience moments of being transported to a higher realm as I am just as I wish it for you; for everyone. My goodness, but it radiates beauty up there!

Observation

London is the most wonderfully easy city to visit and I had the pleasure of my daughter's company yesterday as she escorted me around and introduced me to the wonders of Shoreditch. What a vibrant and eclectic area of town!

Astoundingly, we ran into the god daughter of a friend of mine whom I had intended to contact as well as the Italian gay boy who used to live with my daughter. I am delighted to say that I am receiving a healthy number of kisses and cuddles here in London which is some compensation for time without "use" by my husband.

I have had a quick look where David is taking Agnes and I like what I see. Whilst reading his latest offering, something occurred to me and I will share the thought with you.

I have it on good authority that men with dominant personalities like well trained girls. They enjoy the ease, the quiet and the pleasure of it. They find pleasure in the uninterrupted control. A girl who knows her place and enjoys her place is very fine company. It makes sense.

It can appear seamless. The days go by and life goes along swimmingly without friction of any sort. She understands her limits and she is beyond questioning his control and the fitness of things between them.

But, here's the rub. Even the most well trained girl in the world needs a reminder of who (what?) she is and of the sort of man she is involved with. She wants to be good but she also wants to feel it a little more intensely than on a usual day.

She could play up a bit, she could ask for something but even better, she might get lucky and discover that he understands from having observed her so closely that she needs a little tune up; a little dastardly surprise. I liken it to a girl who observes healthy eating patterns but still yearns for a piece of cheesecake every so often.

One of the loveliest qualities of being in this type of relationship is that a girl is well observed and that her needs (as opposed to her wants) are met. Sweet Agnes has been yearning for cheesecake for some time now and thank goodness, Frederick is a keen observer.

Have I wet your appetite?

Owned

It is a very novel experience to be holidaying on my own in a foreign country. I am staying with my daughter but I have seen very little of her so far as she has a rather long working day, but time together is on its way. Some holidays have been approved and we have two long weekends together to look forward to.

I am tickled pink to be able to report that I not only met an online friend for the very first time but I met my first online friend, the charming Abel of Spanking Writers and his delightful wife, Haron for lunch yesterday.

I contacted Abel some years ago now asking him if he might like to swap notes and explain a few things to me, back when I was as green as grass to all things kink and being the gentleman that he is, he kindly obliged. We don't correspond all that regularly but I have always known that if I need advice, Abel is merely an email away. So, it was not at all a surprise to me to find that he is just as delightful, sweet, friendly and helpful in person as he is online.

Being able to speak to someone in person, other than my husband, just as I am completely was pure gold. We chatted away as very dear friends and whilst the conversations moved from topic to topic, we effortlessly moved over topics that I could never have done with my vanilla friends. I hadn't realized how liberating that was going to feel.

And now, another opportunity comes along and a reader is meeting me for a drink and a stroll around Hyde Park. I need to pinch myself to believe this is happening. Not to mention that I have been invited to a gathering of kinky people next week. It is all so very exciting!

I've just said goodbye to my husband on Skype telling him of all my news and I told him how lovely it feels to be "owned" and he said to me it is lovely for him to be an "owner".

We never know why things happen as they do but the lovemaking that occurred in the 24 hours before we left was as sweet and complete as any love making has ever been between us. Perhaps, we knew it had to be good to last two weeks or more. Perhaps, it is our time in the sun to luxuriate and radiate in the mysteries of each other and of life itself. As we said to one another, "good things come to those who wait".

I am very happy; adoring the time to go at my own pace, to explore and to have an adventure. It is all the more wonderful to me because as I go about London on my own, marvelling at it all, I know in my heart and my soul that I am an owned girl and a very loved owned girl at that. It just doesn't get any better than that.

High maintenance doll

It has been a particularly busy few months with my husband barely at home these days and my trip away imminent. With only one adult at home, many tasks inevitably fell to me, many of which I hate to do because they are of a technical nature and I am finding it a bit like learning a foreign language. I have to keep learning the jargon to understand what people are saying to me and take my ‘best guess’ as to what sort of response I should give them.

The situation has dynamically changed because whereas my husband wanted to make these choices and decisions in the past and I would need to confer with him, now he pushes me to just get things done the best way I can.

This situation is not conducive to the dolli state of mind and I find myself going through a transition period where I am riling against being given this latitude. Suddenly, *I* have to deal with the techno heads, or the car repair people getting quotes for a silly person that banged into the back of my car, or for getting international roaming on my phone (I still don’t know if that actually went through since another sim card was declined) and it became impossible for me to hold my temper with the young man in the store and the woman on the phone who more or less just wished me luck with the situation, unable to figure what, if anything, went wrong with the long process.

As I stood in line at American Express waiting my turn to buy some English pounds, I tried my yoga deep breathing and asked myself, “Why are you so darn worked up about doing these chores yourself?”

I read a book a few months ago that spoke to the notion that we think of love in various ways. Some of us see being given things as love and others of us like me see service and time spent together as their preferred way of receiving love. When I send an email to my husband explaining that something needs to be done and he shoots back an email to me to just attend to it myself, I see that (and I know this is very irrational) as not loving me.

One email after another, one phone call after another, telling me to attend to things myself and just to go ahead without consultation with him is proving to be painful because it feels like rejection/lack of love.

At the time of reading the book, ‘The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, I told my husband about the results in my case and he laughed and said that it made sense now – how much I get out of him doing a task for me and spending quality time with just me.

Both of those things are sorely lacking in my life at this time. Honestly, I don’t think he has the time to do anything about it right now, even if he remembered how this sort of thing effects me – not only doing the tasks he usually does himself or that I used to do with his consultation, but going to big events at school on my own, to dinner parties on my own, to bed on my own...

Now, I am about to travel on my own. I am thrilled at the opportunity to do so of course but I also look forward to some quality time with my husband too when we can just relax and luxuriate in each other with our phones turned off and nothing that we need to do for a few days or so. We are very overdue for that. I guess I am just at that moment in time when I wonder if all the work to get away is worth the effort.

But, it is of course very much worth the effort and especially so when I fix eyes on my darling daughter who will be waiting at Heathrow Airport to fetch me. What a ball we shall have with all of London to ourselves!

I am slightly disturbed to realize that the ‘bimbo’ tag really does apply to me in so many ways. I want an “owner” in more ways than one. Perhaps it is not meant to be so, but this dolli is ‘high maintenance’. Hmmmm. Oh well, you get what you pay for, right? If you want a very nice doll, that doesn’t come for free! (Yes, I did giggle when I wrote that.) I may be able to drop in here whilst away. Aeroplane trips do that to me. Be well. Stay safe.

Agnes - in the afternoon

Agnes was quietly pleased that Frederick approved of what she had prepared for their lunch. She thought of him as a man with sophisticated tastes and she held onto a concern that she may act inappropriately or that he would see her as childish or ignorant. It meant a lot to her that she had pleased him. She smiled and hoped to give the impression that whilst she was pleased he was pleased, it was no big deal; that she could rise to his challenges; that she was capable.

Agnes watched Frederick stretch out on the blanket and she followed his lead. She stretched out on her side facing him and rested her head on her curled arms. They chatted a little about nothing in particular when Agnes quietly giggled at Frederick’s incoherent response. Rather than just not reply to her comment in his nearly asleep state, he mumbled a string of jumbled words back to her.

For a few minutes, Agnes watched him sleep. He seemed a little vulnerable laid out on the blanket, breathing deep and completely unaware of her as he was; his mouth wide open. She felt softly towards him as she studied his features; the way his lips quivered a little as his breathing went in and out; how his hands rested on his chest.

Agnes tried to nap a little herself. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sun on the side of her face. In this public place however, she could not abandon herself to sleep and after a few minutes of just laying there doing nothing she decided to walk whilst he slept. As quietly as a mouse so as not to disturb Frederick she got up off the blanket and took a tour of the gardens, gravitating towards the spot where Frederick had earlier told her off for wandering away. She wanted to explore beyond that spot but the memory of his scolding returned to her and she decided not to proceed.

Agnes loved to be by water; the beach, a lake; even a bath. She heard the sounds of a small waterfall and decided to investigate the pond. She was delighted to find an assortment of fish swimming about in the pond, some surprisingly large. She sat for a while watching them swim before she strolled about the garden, returning back to the blanket every now and then to see if Frederick had woken.

When thirst overcame her she ever so quietly collected the picnic basket from their blanket, took it over to a seat and poured herself a glass of water. She was just putting the water bottle and glass away when she heard Frederick call out to her. He was asking her where she had been and feeling relaxed and happy she began to tell him about what she had seen, but he wasn’t interested.

“I am very disappointed in your behaviour...” she heard him say, and she felt immediately frustrated that she just didn’t understand Frederick’s responses. He was confusing her.

“But, Frederick, I just walked there by the little pond.”

This did not appease him and Agnes remained confused, hurt even, but her instincts told her to apologize in order to bring this scolding to an end. Even her apology was not to his liking. Apologizing was “not good enough” he said and added that when she was with him she was to follow his instructions.

Agnes was challenged by these words. He was sounding like her father on those occasions when she had arrived home late and she didn’t leave home to come to Paris only to have a man she had barely just met speak to her in a way that made her feel like a child when she wasn’t even sure what she had done wrong. Why was he making this fuss about such a tiny thing?

“I don’t understand why you are being so mean. Would you rather I leave?” she asked him. If she was making so many mistakes with him perhaps it was best she go home, she thought. She felt quite disoriented.

Agnes watched in shock as Frederick untied the rope around her waist and cut it into equal pieces. She was speechless.

“Sit down on the bench.”

Agnes could feel her eyes start to tear up but the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Frederick. She had no desire for him to have the satisfaction of seeing that he had upset her and her upset feelings transcribed into defiance.

“No!"

There was a standoff between them as both of them looked into one another’s eyes trying to gauge the other’s resolve and state of mind. When Agnes dug in her heels, Frederick made the concession of asking her to please sit down. At this point, Agnes decided to sit down but she was still unhappy about it.

“Are you going to do as you are told?”

Agnes didn’t want to leave and if she was to stay she understood that she needed to do things his way. He had made it very clear to her that he was in control. She nodded her consent. Just before Frederick removed a bandana and placed it over Agnes’ eyes and tied it tight with three knots at the back of her head, he asked her to “trust” him.

There was something in the lilt of his voice when he said those words that helped Agnes to relax and to follow Frederick’s lead. Her breathing was settling now and her anger was replaced by arousal. Without the sense of sight, she immediately became aware of Frederick’s voice and all the sounds that were surrounding her; the slightest movement in the trees.

He wanted to know if the bandana was comfortable and he told her in advance that he was going to bind her legs and wrists. As the rope was wound around her body, between her thighs and knees and around her wrists, Agnes found herself enjoying the experience more than she could have ever imagined. There was an element of fear, of humiliation and of arousal and put together Agnes found herself in a state of resignation; almost as if she had been captured in some way and that thought was incredibly appealing to her. She dared not allow Frederick to know how much she was enjoying this situation.

When Frederick asked her to put her hands behind her back however, she resisted. It was a battle of wills between them as he pushed her further and further, but each time she eventually acquiesced. When he was ready he told her to sit completely still and to be absolutely silent. This she could do but when he told her that he was leaving her on her own for a time, her sense of vulnerability forced her to beg him not to leave her alone.

“Please don’t leave me on my own; not like this,” she begged him.

Again, Frederick asked her to trust him and again, this quietened her fractious mind for a while. Yet, the time alone seemed indeterminable. It was probably only a few minutes that she sat there still, unable to see or to move, wondering if anyone was looking at her, directly or from behind a bush. For an instant she wondered if Frederick had abandoned her, or if he planned to leave there for a very long time. She didn’t know where he was, what he was doing and when he would return.

Agnes began to feel very hot and uncomfortable. She felt the need to make the best use possible of her ears and she strained forward and focussed intently for any sound at all that might alert her to what was happening beyond the world of her darkness and imprisonment.

When Agnes heard Frederick’s voice again telling her to remain still but that he was going to untie her hands, she felt an enormous sense of relief that he had returned to her. He was telling her that she would feel some movement, to not be alarmed, to stay still and now that Frederick had returned she was in no doubt that she could comply with his instructions.

She was really listening to his words this time and paying attention to his instructions. He told her not to be alarmed and so she programmed that as understanding that there was no danger and that whatever was happening, she could manage, so long as Frederick was there. She allowed her mouth to unclench and she relaxed her tongue. She did her best to let herself go and put herself in his hands.

“Everything is under control. I have the situation completely in hand,” she heard him say and this put her mind at ease. In the same way that she entered an aeroplane and put her life in the hands of the pilot, allowing herself to settle into the role of one of his responsibilities, so she put her life now in the hands of Frederick. In that role of submitting to a force higher than herself, she felt at peace.

When Frederick took the blindfold away from Agnes’ eyes and told her that she could open her eyes, she had no idea what to expect. When she saw in front of her at very close range a large black cat, a tigress she froze in fear of what could possibly happen next. Her mind went blank and now her brain was responding only to self preservation instincts. She stayed completely immobile because it seemed the best option.

Agnes would have been petrified but for Frederick’s complete lack of concern, his light banter and encouragement to reach out and touch the cat. It helped her immensely that he was rubbing into her tight neck and shoulder muscles, too. Put together, Agnes registered that this was in no way a dangerous situation, even though she remained frightened.

He encouraged her to reach out and touch the cat, sliding his hand down her arm to persuade her to move it forward to touch the cat. Agnes’ family had always had at least one cat at home and she was familiar with what they liked. Tentatively, she brought her hand forward and rubbed it into the fur, and then when she could see that the cat had no objection, she rubbed it behind the ear; a move which was much enjoyed judging by the deep rumble coming from her chest.

Frederick was smiling, clearly pleased that the two of them had an appreciation for one another and Frederick chatted away softly, explaining that since he had introduced Agnes to Sheaden in his company, there was no risk. But, if she had gone off on her own and come across her, she would have not had the same reaction to her at all; that as long as Agnes was in Frederick’s company, Agnes did not present as a threat.

For several minutes Frederick sat on the bench beside Agnes and seemed to enjoy the two girls’ interacting with one another. He was smiling and there was pride in his eyes. They were a delight to watch as they frolicked with one another and Agnes appeared totally relaxed and calm around Sheadan now.

It was Frederick who finally said that it was time for Sheadan to go back to her shed now; that he would take Agnes for some dinner and return her home. Agnes said good bye to the cat and watched Frederick walk her back to her home. She had a sense that Frederick was a man who could expose her to a great many new experiences. The thought enticed her and she hoped that very soon he would begin to teach her things and show her things. She didn’t know what she meant really. She knew very little about what was on offer to her. All she knew was that she was open to experiencing whatever he should choose to offer her.

The Subjugation Trap

I am learning a great deal about myself at the present time and how to be a healthy and happy submissive. I am taking the time to chronicle that process here for those people who may benefit from my experiences.

Cognitive behaviour therapy, the only therapy now subsidised by the Australian Government does not focus or allow the time to get into childhood experiences in any great detail, but an article my psychologist gave me at the end of our last session asks the reader to roam over the experience of childhood subjugation.

“Self-sacrificers feel responsible for the well-being of others. As a child, you may have experienced too much responsibility for the physical or emotional welfare of a parent, sister, brother or some other close person...a parent who was chronically ill or depressed. In doing so, you neglect yourself...You are empathic...You feel the pain of others and want to ease their pain...Whoever subjugated you as a child did not force you to do what he or she wanted. Rather, because they were in pain or especially weak, you felt that their needs took precedence over yours.”

I related to those words in a profound way and many memories came back to me, making me realize that I had indeed decided many times over in my life that I needed to be strong and to put my needs aside. In fact, I think I was very good at convincing myself that my needs were being met when in fact I had barely ever explored in my own mind what my needs really looked like.

Eventually, the fact that my needs were not being met led to what I thought was post-natal depression after the birth of my fourth child. In fact, it was more likely a general depression from the extremely high workload, lack of assistance and my inability to express that my needs as an individual simply were not being met.

I feel sure that I made efforts to express the fact that I was feeling snowed under and unhappy but there is no doubt that my “self sacrificing” mode of operating did not allow for me or anyone else to find satisfactory solutions to the immensely busy timetable, the tiredness and the sense that life had become not much more than drudgery. I remember walking into the laundry and seeing all that had to be done and having an image of setting out to climb Mount Everest. I felt I had a Herculean task in front of me.

As much as someone is loved, if they are prepared to “self-sacrifice”, people will allow that; even people who love them. It truly is up to each individual, I have learned through therapy, to establish their needs in their own mind and to express those needs.

Over time, I did what self sacrificers eventually do: I got mad. For a time there, I felt very angry quite a good deal of the time. I didn’t understand why those who loved me were treating me so badly, at the same time as I was unprepared to express what I needed from them.

I’d get mad, eventually blow up and then I would feel guilty that I blew up and I’d go back to being my self-sacrificing self.

“It is part of the subjugation lifetrap for you to believe it is somehow wrong for you to express your needs...Until you become more assertive, anger will continue to be a significant problem for you, even if you are not always aware of its harmful consequences.”

When I finally expressed my needs to my husband several years ago – when I told him that he had married a very kinky girl with particular needs – a lot of my despair evaporated overnight.

Yet, the “self-sacrificing” went on and I continued to believe that I should not really air my own views, opinions and needs. Life seemed to flow better when I acquiesced and I think I thought it was noble to acquiesce, in any case. I think it made me feel a good person.

“In subjugation, there are almost no strong opinions across the board. Whether the issues are big or small – no matter what is at stake – in subjugation there is no strong sense of self.”

Of course, you know that I do have strong opinions because I air them here, with friends and family. But, it is true that I signed documents in the past even though I vehemently disagreed with the decisions being made. I expressed my views but not assertively. I definitely didn’t stand up for myself and what I believed to be right. I relinquished my right to have a say in my own life.

The code of D/s is that the submissive has the right to express herself (or himself) politely but that ultimately, the Dominant will have the deciding vote. Quite honestly, I barely raised an objection at the time. My husband had no real idea of the extreme discomfort under my skin until it was a done deal and I did us all a huge disservice to not express my opinions loud and clear.

This is now water under the bridge. I am now self-aware and I understand where I went wrong. When I told my psychologist that I really, really wanted to visit my daughter over Easter (an ideal time for many reasons) she wanted to make that happen. I told her I thought it was “too late”, an excuse I have often made before as I put my needs lowest on the list.

But, I did go home and think about it and I rang my husband to say that I felt I had made a gross error in judgement; that all my instincts were telling me to go to London and spend a few weeks with our daughter at this time. Within a few days, my husband had bought me a ticket and my daughter was absolutely elated about it. For once, I had expressed a need and a desire: quietly, calmly, simply and directly and my husband responded to that; no questions asked.

Of course, we can’t always have we want and desire. Yet, we can’t get what we want, need and desire unless we are willing to end the subjugation trap and express ourselves. I have heard and read so many submissive women say that they find asking for something almost impossible. I was one of them. I know better now. I may not always get what I want or get it when I want it, but it won’t stop me from being assertive enough to ask now, directly and politely.

There is nothing about being a submissive to a dominant that does not allow someone to ask for what they believe they need, or to express their view about any matter that is pertinent to them. Frankly, I think it would be a relief to the vast majority of dominants if submissives did express themselves in this way. It doesn’t change the fact that they are in control but if does allow them to control in full knowledge of the submissive’s mind.

When the subjugation trap is understood, a giving person continues to give but as well, she (or he) asks that she be given in return. There is balance. There is a healthy relationship.

My psychologist is very respectful of the dynamic between my husband and myself but she wanted me to be aware of the “subjugation trap”. It is vital that submissives learn to ask for what they need. A good dominant will consider what the submissive has to say and take it into account when making a determination. Given the dynamic we have chosen, asking is paramount and hopefully, what is given shall be returned in spades.