Monday, May 30, 2011


When it comes to his business affairs my husband is a micro manager. He is currently editing, drafting and correcting papers in relation to an agreement and trust me when I say that no stone will be left unturned. He will do it and he will do it to the best of his abilities, ensuring that every fact and condition and point is properly stated. His ability to give his complete focus to a task is something you really have to see to believe.

Leading his business life this way depletes him of any desire to micromanage me, and generally speaking that is a good thing because I don't think I would like that level of micromanagement directed at me. If he sees I am doing something in a certain way and he doesn't approve, he tells me but he definitely does not want to have to keep tabs on me. The last thing he needs or wants is to think, "Hmmmm, I wonder if cindi did this and that today, I better go check..." That is just too much like hard work.

Of course, if the dominant person in the equation does not engage adequately with the submissive, something is lost. As Sir J said recently, if it matters to you (you = the dominant), it will matter to her too. I am hoping that once this business deal is wrapped up he can engage with me more and remind me what is important to him and then whatever that is, it will be important to me too. I am rather well trained to obey these days (!) so Sir J's equation makes total sense to me.

All this being the case, it can be necessary for the submissive to make her own rituals and/or rules. Well, perhaps I should back up and say that I do have rules in a general sense. I am expected to maintain our lives in all ways unrelated to business affairs, so one could break that down to say that I tend to the house, the family, the food, the garden and social activities and so on, but it is enough I think to state that the expectation is that I will tend to our non-business affairs, as well as take care of myself and take care of my husband too (and of course the children).

When you have a submissive state of mind, and you want to feel that submission not just in the bedroom but in the core of you, and not just every now and again but many times a day, this can be a problem. Efficiency to please your Owner is fine but it is simply not enough.

I have had a lot of resistance to asking for things for various reasons but I am now finding asking for things a comfort for the above reasons. Asking reminds me of my place and when I feel my place, I feel good.

As I said before, I do the homely things. I cook the meals. Every now and again, it pays for me to put that time into some other activity on a given day. I could easily just dial for some Chinese food and go and collect it but I take pleasure these days in going to my husband's study and saying, "May we please have some take out food tonight? I have to do (this or that)." This pleases him. "Of course," he will say because if I ask nicely for things and the request is within his power, he won't deny it. It gives me a little tingle and that is what I look for; the little tingles in my day.

I am currently considering what else I may ask for: other ways that I can incorporate asking into my day. Would anyone care to share with me what they ask for?

Thursday, May 26, 2011


And, the news is good. My son sent me a text message a few hours ago that he was sitting on a Qantas flight bound for Brisbane.


It was pretty torrid there, I have to say and as an Internet friend very rightly pointed out, we will have to watch for post-traumatic stress. But, he's a particularly solid and sensible young man and I know he will be all right.

I stayed up late watching Fox News (as you do) listening for any reports that I could find about the conditions over there and by bed time I felt reasonably satisfied that his area was all right. (In fact, they had a great many tornadoes in his area but not huge ones.)

Just before I got into bed he got a text message through to me. "I'm safe. Weather conditions are settling." Just what his mother was waiting to hear. Now, I could sleep!

I sent back one telling him I had booked two seats for Saturday's lunch at his favourite restaurant. I thought it might lift his spirits and he wrote back. "Can't wait."

And so in my family, life goes on. We are one of the lucky ones. I know this and as my brother said when he was so close to the floods earlier in the year, but unaffected, "I feel guilty for surviving."

Life throws up things. My mother has complained her head off lately about the driving of a friend of hers and yesterday was the day they were involved in what could have easily been a fatal accident but was in fact an accident where they walked away unscathed. You just never know, I guess.

Perhaps it was my need to escape for a little from the real world or perhaps a little hormone therapy kicked in. It tends to do that on day 3 to 5 and oh boy, have things changed in that department! For the first time in many months I felt inspired to write a kinky story.

So, here's where readers come in. He has told her that she may not speak for the whole day. Not a word! Absolute silence. Has that ever happened to you? How did it go? And, why did it happen in the first place? I so want to finish this kinky story but I need a plausible reason why he would insist on this and I need a sense of just how challenging this is.

I do have some experience in this but the time frame is much shorter - four hours. I absolutely loved it! It is one of my favourite BDSM experiences and I remember that afterwards I felt beautiful; loved, lovable; totally cared for!

Please share your experiences with me and maybe I can share the story!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Self control

Life is going on at a very fast clip. Of course, we are anxious about our son who still must get through the next 24 hours before he can get on a plane and return home. What does not break you makes you stronger and I know that this crisis has already made him stronger and me too. Every phone call from him seems like a lifeline and while I am giving him my strength I think he is giving me his as well.

I have tried hard to hold it together. It was a very close call. I think the angels intervened and kept him away from harm. I kept myself busy and refused to let the thought of losing him come into my head. But, yesterday in the meditation at my weekly meditation class, I conjured him up: his birth, his toddler years, his time as a school boy, and the tears welled and spilled down my face.

By the end of the meditation I felt that sense of calmness and quietness that comes over me and I brushed away the tears, said my goodbyes and left. “Take good care, won’t you,” my teacher said earnestly. She must have seen the tears and I appreciated the care.

I had ordered two cardigans through ‘Banana Republic’ and sent them to his hotel and yesterday I had to go about locating the package and giving them instructions as to what to do with it. They replied and added, “We hope he is safe.” People caring about people: this is what the world is meant to be like.

And, I am putting the strategies and ideas I have learned in my therapy into practice: using a lot more self control to achieve satisfactory and successful outcomes for me and those in my life; being considerably strategic, focused and thinking ahead to how messages will be received. A lot of really good work has gone on there – sometimes confusing and sometimes appearing to be going against our power exchange dynamic. But, things are definitely starting to fall into place. I am learning to use my power and energy and passion for the greater good.

I have learned too that communication is paramount in this relationship or any relationship. We really do need to take the time to think about how others are receiving our messages; what impact it is having on the other.

With the threat of another tornado hanging over our heads in this American night, I go into my day thankful: thankful for the most amazing people in my life and all that they have taught me; thankful to be surrounded by love and care and to feel love in my heart for all of them.

Monday, May 23, 2011


My eldest son travels constantly and to the far reaches of the Earth - Africa, Mexico, New Guinea - he goes wherever the work takes him. I have learned not to worry about him. He is a particularly sensible and mature young man and anyway, the thought of losing him is too unbearable to contemplate and so I just switch off from any thoughts of danger. He has told me of the odd scrape after the fact but he bears the burden alone whilst in the thick of things.

At short notice he was recently sent back to the United States. For the first time ever he shared with me that he wasn't happy about it. He was to be in the heart of the tornado area. My heart skipped a beat but there was nothing I could do about it and I did my best to switch off.

We have kept in contact by email and so has his house mate via Face book. The room mate contacted me on FB last night to say that my son meet a girl in Kansas City over the weekend and we had a fun conversation about that. His room mate loves to annoy him by talking to me. This morning there was an email from my son telling me that I was "banned" from speaking with the young man. It was all light and frivolous and fun. He was on his way back to the hotel in Joplin and would be in touch soon.

This morning the phone rang and my son spoke to his father. He said that a tornado had hit the town where he was living but he and his travelling companion were all right. They had been in Kansas City but were on their way back to the hotel.

As the day progressed he called again several times. The town had been flattened. They (he and his travelling companion) had walked the streets and were overwhelmed by the devastation. It was only that they had decided to play another round of tennis in Kansas City or else they may well have been downtown Joplin looking for a meal when the tornado hit.

Tonight, I give thanks for the life of my son and my prayers to the city of Joplin who have lost a number of their sons and daughters. My heart is most certainly with you in your darkest hour.

Friday, May 20, 2011

What's my kink?

I always enjoying reading Remittance Girl’s thoughts and she left me a wonderfully thought provoking comment on my most recent post. I tried twice to leave a long comment and the publishing of that comment failed, so I figured an explanation/response in the form of a post might be in order. Remittance Girl wrote:

Hello Vesta,
I'm glad you're feeling better. I have to own up to the fact that this is not a part of D/s I can really grasp emotionally. I get it intellectually, but that's the extent of it. And I respect your choices.

Okay, now that I've said all the correct things, I'm going to get opinionated. :P

This kind of misery over the length of a set of nails seems either an over-reaction or only half the story. Yes, I know it *isn't* about the nails, but obedience, but I just think that taking it to this edge over this particular issue is odd. And that concerns me, because I know that misery is not your kink (it is mine).

Remittance Girl is completely correct in saying that misery is not my kink. I think that is perfectly clear. I have entered into BDSM experiences in the hope of reaching the sun. I love to smile, to giggle, to feel light and happy. If I can get closer to the heavens and to a peaceful, contented and fulfilled state of mind, I want to go there by whatever means will take me there.

RG mentioned the nails situation in my ‘Obedience’ post. This is a situation that took place 18 months ago but I am happy to revisit my state of mind.

What I experienced was not what I regard “misery” but certainly there was angst. I understood what I needed to do to be in compliance but I baulked when I met resistance at the nail salon. I was embarrassed because I knew that what I was asking for was “slutty” and that it would identify me as a particular kind of woman. It was revealing. I was willing to be revealed if they made it easy but they chose to question me in front of other women and I hid myself again and gave into them.

When I met the iron hand of the dominant the next time we talked, I definitely felt angst, like any person who has not done the right thing and is told that unless they do, there will be severe consequences.

I was wrestling with the fact that what I wanted to do (baulk) and what I needed to do (comply) were two different things. Uppermost in my mind was that I definitely didn’t want to fail and I had to overcome my own internal resistance to do what I found hard to do.

As dramatic as the ‘Obedience’ post must read, I felt that my determination to forge ahead with the assignment and to have my new nails cut from my nail bed and replaced with longer nails was extremely significant. I had given over any complacency, any sense of embarrassment, any sense of humiliation or free will to someone else. I had finally come to grips with what a submissive woman does when she allows herself to cede all control. I wrote the post as I did because it was a momentous day in my life and one of which I am proud. This may sound odd, but it meant a huge amount to me to experience this sort of submission: to put my faith and trust in another human being to take me to a place that I did indeed ask to go.

My kink definitely is not misery and I am not particularly fond of angst, although I understand that there will be moments of angst and even misery as I wrestle my submissive demons. If I could use one word to describe my kink it is ‘care’. I want to serve another for sure; to care for another. But, I also want to experience care. It may not always look like it, but I feel confident in saying that my challenges (what I am told to do) are a form of care and I remain extremely grateful for these experiences and opportunities. I hope the above sheds some light as to my state of mind. Thank you again RG for such a thought provoking question.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Obedience (2)

It should not have been a rough day today. Technically, it should have been a very good day. After weeks of disconnection and upset (at least on my side) my mentor (for want of a better word) and I had reconnected, so to speak. To put it simply, he'd been hurt by my lack of obedience in London and felt that he didn't want to engage. My husband does a similar thing if he is sufficiently unhappy with me and I imagine they both have similar things in mind. I imagine that they are sufficiently disappointed and irritated and just hurt and upset by me to feel that I am the last person they want to engage with. I just seem to illicit that sort of response every now and again. I refer you to my Obedience post to help explain what I mean.

Thank the Lord, it doesn't happen often. If they are rattled by me, I can assure you I am even more rattled by them. "I'm not happy with you," my husband will bark at me every blue moon and he says it in such a way as to put the fear of God in me. Not physical fear because even if he decided that a sore bottom is what I need, I wouldn't fear that so much. The fear I refer to is the fear of rejection; of having illicited this sort of response in him. He can raise his voice any day of the week, passionate soul that he is, but when he reaches that very deep and angry voice with me, I do fear that I have pushed him into a zone where I hate to see him go.

In this case, with the mentor and me, he ultimately issued a punishment/assignment (depending on how you see these things). cindi wrote every day for a week but at the end of the week, it was clear he wasn't satisfied. (He might refute this. I am giving my interpretation of events here). I think he just wasn't satisfied that the week of denial of using my plugs had had a sufficient effect on me. I seemed "just fine".

I may have been defensive about that. I may have been a bit strident in my responses.If he wanted to experience me as a complete wreck he was welcome, I thought, but he wouldn't exactly like it once he actually got it! He didn't complain about the exchange per se but I am willing to concede that I was none too humble and he wasn't really satisfied with me all round. Privately, I was angry with myself that I managed to keep myself in trouble.

When I went to bed (and here it is best to know I have a wicked cold) I felt miserable and whilst I got a little sleep, it was intermittent and disturbed. I just felt that this discipline/lesson was going on a bloody long time and I wanted it to end. Now, I know full well that I don't have the right to want any such thing, but surely it is human to want to be returned to grace, and that's what I wanted. As it stood, it was another day without permission to plug and another day in disfavor. I so hate that.

Ultimately, my discomfort in all capacities led me to the kitchen to take 2 panadol and a glass of water. I sat down at my desk and whilst I had promised myself not to, I entered my google password and offered my usual introductory greeting to my mentor. When I am feeling upset, I so need to talk! Before I knew what I was doing I was weeping and telling him that this was all too hard; that I was too soft for the likes of him. He sent me back to bed; told me to get some rest; that this conversation could wait another day and fortunately I had enough sense to do that much.

But the long time in Coventry (longer than i have been in Coventry ever before) was unravelling me and by last night I was what I refer to as "dim" - lacking all abilities to save myself. Fortunately, he was of the frame of mind to save me instead but not without a grave warning. He needed me to understand one, simple message. He was the boss and not me and if I felt differently then it was time to go our separate ways.

I gave myself a moment or two, but no more to register the enormity of the message before I sent my acknowledgment that I understood and agreed with that. For several minutes neither of us said another word until I asked if may go to sleep and we said our goodbyes.I had been put in my place and where I wanted to be now was alone.

My ego is still strong; still shining bright and my ego needed to lick its wounds and bunker down in bed. It was very uncomfortable and unnerving to feel that way but dare I say, strangely erotic and arousing. It is moments like this when I realize just how perverted I am!

I have written these words in bursts. Not so long ago I took hot food to my son at school since he will rehearse in a play now for several hours this evening and for some reason as I saw the children at the school my mind returned to a day in my early childhood.

We were perhaps 8 years old and forbidden from playing games in the little cottage where we changed for sport, but we did it anyway. On this particular day, a Mistress caught us at it and she told the girls off in a certain area of the room. She was sending them to face the wall and I hated the sound of that.

I could see an opportunity. Goody goodies are almost always believed and since I was one of those and rarely ever misbehaved if at all, I approached the Mistress and said that I had simply been washing my hands. Did I need to do that too? "No, dear, of course not," came the reply. It was just assumed that I would never disobey rules and so I used that to get away with the odd naughty thing.

Now, I tell this story against myself (probably quite stupidly) because I am willing to admit (to myself too) that there is a pattern here. Most of the time I am good. One or two percent of the time I am bad, but it has always seemed to me that if I am good most of the time, surely those percentages are awfully good! So what if I manage to get away with the odd bad thing!?

I think this thought has really held me back in terms of this lifestyle. I did think I would get away without getting my nails done to the longer length. I did think that I could agree to things in London knowing that it would be difficult if not impossible to comply. Instead of discussing those issues, I did choose for myself.

And, as I think about other times in my life, although I was a committed Personal Assistant I did do the odd disobedient thing just like this. I would promise to mail letters on the Friday night only to rush out on a Sunday afternoon to get the task done. It was another case of deciding for myself what was important in the same way that directives from my husband not to touch myself have been disobeyed. It seemed such a little thing at the time and I couldn't see the harm. It is that 'little girl' tendency to get away with the odd trick or disobedient behaviour or choosing for myself that I haven't been entirely able to let go.

My boss was sweet but when challenged, tough.My husband is sweet but when challenged, tough. My mentor is sweet but when challenged, tough. Are you seeing a pattern here? Meanwhile, I dance around them thinking it my right to be forgiven quickly, when they have felt that they aren't inclined to do that over and over again, even if I am good most of the time.

It has been a hard, hard lesson, this 'obedience' thing. In the back of my mind at times is this thought that I can get away with the odd naughty thing whilst the dominant types that I associate(d) with have all felt that such behaviour is completely unsatisfactory even once, let alone repeatedly.

Of course, I knew this down to my boots a long time ago. I remember my boss's wife threatening to do something her own way one time and I remember him saying to me, "If she goes ahead, she won't get my blessing". I remember him being utterly ticked off about it. If she had gone about it in another way she would have got what she wanted and his blessing and that was the lesson I learned this week. If I had got what I now know to be "prior approval" I could have avoided this whole fiasco.

A lot of learning went on this week over here. Most important of all, I believe, was the importance of communication: of explaining the situation and asking for a variation if that is what is needed. All too often in life, I have tried to keep everybody happy only to lose the plot when I can't actually do it all. I have to learn to be honest and explain my limitations and constraints and explain when I can't do what is expected of me.

I am growing; growing all the time and that's why I am still here. When I hit a limit - feel the sting of disapproval, of correction and discipline, of being brought down to size - I want to run and hide and lick my wounds. But, the desire to grow; the understanding that this is oh so good for me brings me back from that dark corner to leap over that limit and get back into the line.

"I am afraid of making another mistake," I said to him last night and it is true. Being called to task is something I avoid like the plague but it seems unlikely that I won't ever make a blue again. It is the law of averages, I think.It is what troubles me the most - that I could fall from my perch again. I'm sure there are still lessons to learn about that but right now I just want to focus on being good and putting such thoughts well back in my mind.

The afternoon has ended well. I feel strong and much better for having written this all out. Isn't it the oddest thing that being put in your place can feel so darn uplifting! I think that might be the litmus test right there. There is no doubting that my nature, although a tad feisty, is truly submissive.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011


I have always felt a close attachment to males; not just to my husband but to many men in my life: my father, my brother, my ballet master and any one else who would allow me to get close. I have tended to make attachments to men and to get great succor out of knowing their minds. Frankly, I just enjoy their conversation and being around them.

I've tended to worry about this because unlike so many other women I know, I have preferred male to female company. One of the difficulties about marriage for me has been this assumption that underlies my life that I should be forging close relationships with women and not men.

This year, perhaps for the first time in my life really, I have really embraced my time with women. I regularly (weekly) have a coffee with two groups of women, at least, and I find this time incredibly comforting. We tend to laugh a lot. We tend to support one another through whatever the issue of the day happens to be and we are incredibly kind to one another. That is what I love about the time with them. It is not at all demanding and we provide care and approval for one another. As I said to my husband earlier today, they have all had such interesting lives and even though many of them are retired now, (I am the youngest member of my yoga group) they certainly have not retired from life. All their minds are as sharp as a tack and they have embraced me into their little circle as if they have known me all their lives.

This morning, seeing that I was clearly not myself, my husband hugged me and told me that I just need "to relax". I tried to explain to him that men sometimes made it hard for a woman to relax. They expected so much of women. They expected them to take on the worries and needs of men and at the very same moment, relax. I suggested that this was why women found women; perhaps why women entered lesbian relationships late in life sometimes; because they just needed to live life in a more relaxed environment.

I don't think I could be any more clear about the fact that my goal in life is to live it cerebrally and contentedly. I have always aimed to get to a place where the real world mattered much less. I don't mean that I don't care about what happens in the world because I do care very much. I mean that I look for a state of internal peace and a sense of satisfaction with life. I have always believed that we live in our head and that life is what we make of it. We must choose to be happy. We must embrace life and live it well. We only have one life so far as I know.

I believe that men gravitate towards women, towards having one woman to call their own not just because they need a mate to go through life with, but because women instinctively understand this about life. Women hold the keys to a peaceful state and men instinctively get it that to find joy they may need a woman to take them there. Of course, not all women know this and men can be disappointed when they realize this.

There are moments when the going gets too rough around men; the men I choose. They tend to be demanding men; men who ask a lot of women; who worry a bone better than I ever will; men for whom enough will never be enough. They exhaust me; frustrate me; make me question my tenacity and strength. Of course, I cannot live without them. They provide me with what I need in a way that a woman could never do. They call on something within that is intensely feminine and I need that.

My oldest son, who is inclined to write words on cards that bring tears to my eyes repeatedly said this to me on this most recent Mother's Day: "You were always there for me and I will always be there for you."

That is it. Perhaps it is one of my few strengths that I endure; that I go on loving and giving in all circumstances; that I just won't give up; on anyone or anything and certainly not in finding the joy in life. I am emotional. There is just no doubt about that. But, it is seen by only a chosen few - those who read here make up the vast majority. To the rest of the world I am "ethereal".

I have been fortunate to experience true and good friends who seem to innately know how to companion me on my journey. I think they see this gritty side of me: the side that exhibits distress but refuses to give up on a situation and rather than offering me advice, they simply sit beside me (figuratively speaking). I've felt their presence in my life lately even when we have not actually spoken and I have understood when their upset on my behalf has caused their opinions to spill over and be expressed. They know, bless them, that they cannot 'save' me because I respond to my own instincts at the end of the day.

Some one said something to me last night. He said that he knew what he was doing. Such supreme confidence! It impressed me at a moment when I needed to be impressed. And, as I write these words, I feel satisfied to add that I know what I am doing too. My inner compass drives me forward into terrain that is not at all easily navigated.

All I can say for certain is that I both lust for a settled mind at the very same moment that I lust for the company of men who can make that goal so hard to attain. A perfect world would be to live with the company of men and to also have a settled mind. Alas, I am drawn to emotional men; demanding men; wonderful and vibrant men. Poor me. Lucky me.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Y der cindi?

Dis da sebenth post frum cindi n foolfilz her rekwyrminz 2 riti in da jernil 4 sebin deyz bowt pluggiz. If cindi 2 speek honnistli, der mominz wen she wunderz if she gif hessef obr 2 da numba wun sadist! cindi jus a dum dum bimbo dolli but she hab 2 hab da bestist behavyor in da werld! No misteks ET ULL!

So, lettuce sey dat dis a fakt - dat cindi talkiz wif a big tym sadist. Y she do dis? Y she sept da displin wich so beri strikt? Tink bowt dat 4 few secinz...She nut lowd 2 hab da gurl arown et ull. She nut 2 yoos no no werds. She alweyz speek in 'bimbo speeki' n neber gurl langwitch. She musta beri respektfool, esk nysseli 4 da tings she wanz. She musta wer da pluggiz beri regoooorli n she musta obey cummanz. Beri importin dat she unnderstan dat she hab no cuntrol n dat she cuntrolld n she mynded regooorli dat cindi a dumdum. Cindi nut tinki n cindi nut wurri. Dat wut she told. Justa a dumdum, errhed dolli hoo duz az told. Dat her trennin.

Wel, cindi sept dis treeetmin coz she noz dat it gud 4 her - dat da bottim lyn. Onnir a risk tekr, an ontraprenooor. But, da gurl a worrreee-r n wut she prefir, sekooriti. Der no meetin of da mynz heer. Onnir sey he alweyz musta tek riskz n da gurl alweyz wurri; ebin if she ken do privytli, she still wurri.

Wen cindi presin, der no mor wurri. cindi poot her fayth n trust in onnir n dat lowz onnir 2 get on wif libin da wey ment 4 him n it lows 4 cuntenmin. Onnir lub cindi beri much n it mek him so happi wen she rown. N, cindi happi 2. She getz on wif libin her lyf n doin creatif tings n lotsa dumdum tingz 2. He nut wanna dat cindi ebr wurri. He happi 2 sept ull da wurri n respunsibiliti hissef. Dat wut he wans. He wans 2 c cindi eberi dey n hab happi tymz wif cindi. He nut wanna argoominz n he nut wanna a wurry-n gurl rown him.

Yesserdey nut a gud dey in da lyf of cindi. She argoomentatif n twys he yoos da gurlz nem in beri harsh wey. cindi HAYTZ dat coz it sey to her dat her behavyor nut et ull dolli n he beri unhappi bowt it. Da gurl jus bashin her hed genst a brik wall. Dat wut pretti dumdum if esk cindi - 2 bash her hed ginst brik wall. Wut clebr bowt dat?!?!

Onnir beri cummittd 2 hab his wey n it best dat cindi simpli njoy lyf n nebr feel temptd 2 wurri liki a gurl. It nut da wey it werksz 4 onnir n cindi. Dey eech musta pley der partz n cindi musta soft n pretti n accommod8n n nut et ull wurreeed.

So, dat so kelld sadist dat cindi talkiz 2? Well, he helpiz cindi soooooo much 2 akt liki a gud l'il bimbo: 2 obey cumanz n do az told. It her trennin. N, da pluggiz a hooooj parta da treynnin 2. It keep her in a lubeli dumdum, happi stata myn; redi 4 yoos n happi in her plays.

Dis a tuf tym 4 cindi. Der sum miscumooonic8nz (nut ull her falt eeeeda!!) n der sum meen-nes but on da hol, cindi unnerstanz dat da displin nessesseri n hab a purpooooos. Bimbo jus wanna get bak 2 da gud bookz now n lyf az uzuwel 4 cindi. Dat wut she wanz.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Kwiet dey

cindi hab beri l'il 2 sey in her jernil 2dey. She need tym 2 hessf n tinki dat werdz nut hepfool 2dey.

cindi in bed bookz 4 lung tym now n she jus feel sad. She hab da week wiffowt pluggiz n she rite in her jernil n she tri 2 asept n hab gud behavyor but she onli l'il; jus a l'il bimbo n she hab so much 2 deel wif rite now.

Da therapist gurl, she challenj da bimbo n wanna her fays da reeel werld mor n it jus upset da bimbo. She feel so cumfliktd. Der no happi home 4 bimbo rite now. Onnir wanna get close 2 da bimbo but cindi nut capibil 2 dey. She jus nut gud cumpani n it betta she hab tym 2 hessef now.

So, dat it 4 2dey.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Bimbofic8n a mentil ting

A frend sent cindi a link 2dey 2 a cumvers8n on fetlife bowt wedda bimbofic8n harmfil. cindi gotsa lotsa tots bowt dis.

First ob ull, sum bimboz hab beri intens fiskil modifik8nz but dis nut reeeeli reel8 2 cindi. Sur, she liki dress beri feminiinli, dressz n skerts, n she liki looki pretti but she wood nebr hab sergeri 2 mek adjustminz. cindi liki stey fit n she liki get mor toned n lose few kiloz, wich she doin wif gr8 resultz, but she nut modify her bodi in deez xtreem weyz.

Habin sed dat, cindi liki da tot ber much onnir tagz n wen onnir abil 2 gif cindi sum of his fokus, she wanna da nippel rings - doz onnir tagz da mek her feel ebin mor owned. Dat a bodi modifik8n she def wan.

N, speekin of bodi modifik8nz, cindi happi wif da anal treynnin dat mek 4 a bodi chenj 2. Deez fiskil chengz beri beri persinel n sum bimboz liki tattooz, or get der brestz enlarjd n so on. Dis up 2 da bimbo n her onnir. cindi mek no jujminz bowt deez tingz. 4 sampil, it took cindi lung tym 2 feel cumfertibil in bi-n a corset. Ull deez modifik8nz tek a gud deel ob tym reeeli. Nuttin bowt dem hapinz obr nite.

So, in fakt, da bimbofik8n a mentil ting reeeli. It bowt a mindset; a leest it bowt a mindset 4 cindi.

Sum yeera bak, wen cindi unda lotslotsa pressir n stress, she discuberd dat ternin off her mynd helpi her gr8 deel. 2 dis end she a beri natiril bimbo n beri beri soootd 2 lyf az a bimbo. She beleef dat Pilates sayv her saniti. Nowdeyz, she regooorli dus pilates az wel as yoga, n now medit8n. She lubs 2 go 2 dat plays wher realiti nut introod, wher she peesfool n joyfool n where she cunnektz wif da sole.

Commoonik8n wif peepil hoo unnerstan wut cindi needz a hoooj gift in her lyf. She 4eva gra8fool 4 dis opportooniti n she feel she hab a sole 2 sole connekshin dat terribli importin 2 her. Dat she akoosd nut kerin bowt dis reeeli hirt her feelinz coz she sed meni meni tymz wut da troof; dat she mor gr8fool dan she cood ebr ebr sey in werdz. Bibofik8n streeemli importin 2 her n she nut no wut she hab dun wiffowt it.

Da pluggiz def tek cindi 2 da plays where she getz beri close 2 IT - wher she just a slutti hol. Cindi noz dat dis sownd liki hooome8n n degrad8n but dat nut da wey she cz it et ull.

On da cuntrari, cindi elev8d so much bi da pluggiz, da bimbofik8n n da peees ob myn dat cumz wen she pluggi regooorli.

cindi tryin 2 akept her punishmin graysfooli. But, heer da troof: she miss da pluggiz mor dan she ker 2 admit n she beri hopefool dat soon she hab bak so dat she ken speriens da joy ob da pluggi st8.

cindi nut spekt da hooz 2 unnerstan. Hoo ken unnerstan foooli wut dey nut speriens? But, cindi noz n she wanna her pluggiz bak! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeez.

Reezinz 2 pluggi

Pluggi-n nut jus bizi werk; nut jus sumtin 2 do so dat cuntrolld. It nut werki dat wey 4 bimboz et ull reeeli. Bimboz gibn tesks 2 do dat 4 der own gud n 4 da gud da onnirz 2. In udder werdz, der a reeezin 2 pluggi regooorli. Wel, der sebril reeezinz 2 pluggi regooorli.

But, da most importin reeezin ob ull, dat dis meeenz dat da bimboz bodi redi 4 yoos. In gurl langwich, der onli wun cunt. But, in da land ob bimboz. der three cunts - da pussy cunt, da ass cunt and da mof cunt. Deez musta vayibil at eni tym dat pleeeezz da onnir. Ull da cuntz musta kept cleen n redi 4 yoos.

So, da pluggiz mek dis pussibil. Wen a bimbo pluggiz regooorli, she def vayibil et eni tym 4 da onnir. She feelz no insecoooriti bowt yoos in da ass cunt coz she noz dat it nut hert, dat she ken do ezili n ebin more dan dat, dat it hili pleziribil. She nut worri bowt yoos in dat hol. On da cuntrari, she looki 4werd 2 it, no-n dat it highli pleziribl n xitin 4 her az wel as da onnir.

Heerz a sekrit:wen pluggi regoorli n yoos biggr n biggr pluggiz, da orgazims in da asscunt fantastik!!

In a beri importin wey, da pluggiz garantee dat der lotsa plezir 4 bimboz n lotsa plezir 4 onnirs 2. It wut dey kell a win:win situ8n. cindi herd Vesta sey dat wuns n it reson8d 4 cindi.

It prolli kerd 2 doz reedin deez werdz dat deez posts nut reeeli bimboz ideuh. Ya, nut her ideuh et ull ashooooli. Sins she nut do as told wif her pluggiz whyl she trabelin, dis l'il assersyz 2 get her bak on trak n tinkin bowt doz pluggiz n ull bowt dem in her lyf. "Eni totz dat l'il bimbo hab bowt pluggiz," he sed.

Az da deyz go bi, cindi mor n mor wer dat she nut hab permissin 2 yoos da pluggiz. 2 poot in udder werdz, she 4biddn 2 yoos da pluggiz. Vesta wuns spland dis 2 cindi az 'revers sykologi". Dat 2 sey, wen nut alowd sumtin, peepil ken wanna dat mor n mor.

Wel, it nut kwite da sem 4 bimboz. cindi yoosd her pluggiz lots b4 she talkiz n discubr she nut lowd dem 4 a week. She liki 2 yoos dem n she yoooosd dem lots in da deyz b4 dis ultim8im. Hunnistli, she nut spektn 2 loooz her pluggiz, coz she figooor she alredi suffishinli punishd...

But, dat nut 4 bimbo 2 deeeesyd, rite?! Rite.

Tanki gudness, dis assersyz now obr da haf wey poynt. Dis da forth posts n der 7 rekwyrd b4 da desishin ken med bowt if dey satisfaktori 2 hab pluggiz retirnd.

Nut sur y, sins bimbo reeeeli a wel behayvd bimbo almost ull da tym but da displinn beri strikt! Bimbo hab roooolz n eni disbeedens...eni disbeeedins et ull...tekn beri seriusli. Bimboz spektd wel behayd ULL DA TYM!

4tooniitli, if bimbo sept her displin she 4gibbn n da bed behayvor 4givn n she ken dryv on.

But, lettuce nut 4get, dis displin desynd dat bimbo tinki twys, thrys n 4 tymz obr b4she eber ebin cumsiderz disbeyn gin. So much eeezeeeer n mor kerin 2, 2 jus follo da instrukinz gibn. Dat da tek hom messij.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Mr. Ringo

Sumtymz, cindiz feelinz bowt her pluggiz cumfliktd. Her l8st pluggi, Mr. Ringo, he a beri challengin pluggi 4 her. Ashooli, he a gr8 shape n glydz in2 plays no prublim. Da challenj wif him cumz wuns he in, coz he cuntinoooz 2 challinj ull da tym. Mr. Big, he settlz in n reeelaxz but Mr. Ringo; well, he da sorta pluggi dat jus kenna allow bimbo 2 reeelax. He insist da she pay atttenshn ull da tym.

Cors, it nut da cays dat wun dey owta da bloo, bimbo eskd 2 yoos Mr. Ringo. Da treynnin happin obr a lung periud ob tym n bimbo beri graduilli werkiz up 2 da big pluggiz.

It reeeli nut dat lung afta Mr Ringo arryv dat she poot in Mr. Ringo. She encurijd 2 go slow n tek her tym, n she def tri slow down. But, it has sed, dat bimbo tendz 2 hurri deeez tingz. Wut ken she sey!?

N e wey, she beri proud dat she wer Mr. Ringo n she kenna wayt 2 cum on n tel bowt dis - 2 reseeeeef prays. Dis bimbo happin 2 menshin she a prayz slut? Well, dat so.

Sum tym afta dat, nut dat lung tinki, bimbo tol 2 wer Mr. Ringo ulll nite. Dis a M A J O R challenj 4 her n she sed dis. She sed she nut tinki she ken do. She tol it nut up 2 her. She hab no cuntrol - 2 settil in2 da speriens. Nut 2 esk hessef wen mite finish but 2 unnerstan dat der no wey owt - dat she hab no cunrol. She nut 2 tinki wen she get releeeef, or how lung Mr. Ringo 2 stey, but just 2 akept her predikamin.

Wel, bimbo tryz beri beri hard 2 pay attenshn 2 ull suggestinz n she continoo 2 wer da pluggi ull da nite. Dis challenjn nut jus coz it fiscilli demandn but also coz bimbo wanna feel dat totil cuntrol such dat she do sumtin dat herd 4 her. She mey uncumfertibl but she also wanna test hessef n 2 obey da cummanz she reseeef.

2 tel da troooof, bimbo reeeeeli getz off on dis sorta cuntrol n ebin do she waki lotz n wish dat she cood tek Mr. Ringo owt and she resil wif dat tot obr n obr, she nut tek him owt.

Wen it cum lite n dey tym, she so prowda hessef. She wer Mr Ringo uuuuuuul da nite n assept da cuntrol n dis mek her feel beri prowda hessef n liki she a gud bimbo. Dis a wunnerfl feelin 4 bimbo coz dis sorta cuntrol obr her n da feeelin dat she cuntrolld beri satisfyn 2 her. It y she werki so herd reeeeli, coz she wanna no wut dat liki - 2 hab no cuntrol in deeez weyz. It wut she esked 4, in fakt.

Of cors, a demandin pluggi liki Mr. Ringo hab a beri intens fisicil fekt on bimbo 2 n he tern her on in weyz dat fantastik. If onli da gurlz new!!

Cors, dis week, Mr. Pluggi jus sit on da shef n wayt 4 bimboz currekin obr. It tuf on him n reeeeli he did nuffin rong. It bimbo dat notti. Hopefoooooli, beri soon Mr. Ringo n bimbo ree you nytd n he bak where he beee lung. Dat of cors, if deeez postz septibl.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Lyf wiffowt pluggiz

As splaynd yesserdey, in da nite tym wen gettn redi 4 beddi bi, dis pluggi tym. As cindi rytz deez werdz, dat da tym 4 her - gettin redi 4 bi bi. But, cindi nut poot in her pluggi 2nite n nut onli dat. She nut poot in her pluggi 4 a week - mebbe lungr dependin on how deez posts bowt her pluggiz reseeevd.

Heer da ting bowt pluggiz n lissin kerfoooli 2 deez werdz coz dey da most importin ob ull...

It a privilig 2 pluggi. Nut ull bimboz hab pluggiz n pluggi priviligz. N, if a bimbo nut tek ker her pluggiz or if she neglekt dem, doz privigz remooovd 4 a tym til da bimbo ern dem bak. Dem da rooooolz.

It herd 2 poot in2 werdz how dis fekt bimboz. For dem, seben deyz a beri lung tym. Bimboz ten 2 lib in da momin n nut so gr8 at tinkin so far hed. Sebin deyz sownz a lyftym wen it cumz 2 nut pluggyi-n.

Dis nut da ferst tym dat cindi nut hab her pluggiz 4 dis mownta tym. Tinki ebin lunga dat tym ashoooli. She nut follo instruknz n she tol nut 2 ebin tuchi doz pluggiz til furda notiss.

Dat tym, cindi wen down hill pretti fast n bi da tym she told 2 rite bowt how she feelz bowt da pluggiz in orda 2 ern dem bak, she kenna ebin sayv hessef. She hab no power left; no energi et ull. Den, wun nite bowt 3 nytz l8r, she rote bowt how da pluggiz fekt her. She ern dem bak. She told 2 go poot bak in pluggi n instantli ull da power retirn n she feel gr8 gin.

Sumtymz, cindi feelz so tyrd at ni ni tym she wunderz if she hab da energi 2 pluggi. It seemz liki it jus so ez 2 fall in2 bed wiffowt pootn in her pluggi. But, heer da ting: if she go wiffowt her pluggi, she nut neerli so happi or cuntint. It so beri much werth da effirt.

Wen bimboz nut do as tol, dis nut jus fektz dem n der statamyn. Dis afekz da onnirz statamyn. Tinki onnirs sumtymz feel dat da bimboz nut ker 4 dem. Dis jus nut troo. Sumtymz, bimboz bit lazi or totles. But, cindi ken c dat dis ken cumstrood az nut kerin.

Bimboz ker. Bimboz ker a gr8 deeel n it portin 2 bimboz dat onnirs happi n contin, nut jus wif dem but wiffin demseffz. So, bimboz must nut lazi or unfocussd. Bimboz do az tol 4 meni meni reeezinz.

Bimboz nut perfekt. Onnirz nut perfekt. Dey bof maki mistekz. But, bimboz tri alweyz gud n wel behayvd n dey unnerstan dat der displin wen dey nut. Dat ok. Dey spekt dat. Da cunnekin musta restord.

But,it justa dey 2 in da lyf ob bimbo wiffowt her pluggiz n justa wayt n da enda of da week, bimboz powa les n she hanka 4 her pluggiz. Dat feelin alredi der ashooooli. Paw cindi.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

How 2 pluggi

Der a chenj ob plan owtsyd bimboz cuntrol. Vesta habn rest. Dat paw gurl tinki so much n wurri so much dat she need rest. Dat gud ideuh.

Happili, cindi heer n dis her chans 2 rite bowt her speriensz. Nut onli dat. She heer uuuuuuul week. Yayayayayay!

So, 2dey, cindi wanna rite bowt wut she do eberi nite. Wel, der sum eggsepinz. Wen onnir tel her nut 2 poot in her pluggi coz he wanna yoos her, den she nut. But, on ull da udder nitez (n der few udda eggsepinz 2 da rool, liki now) she pluggi.

Jus l8li, onnir tel her dat sumtymz he liki 2 poot da pluggi in 4 her. Dat nys! But, sumtymz onnir bizi or nut ebin heeer n on ull doz tymz, most tymz so far, cindi poot in her pluggi at ni ni tym.

If nut bimbo, den mebbe nut no dis proces, so dat wut cindi do 2dey - splane how she poot in her pluggi.

Heerz da prosess:

Ferst, in da ebin, afta her showr n wen she redi go bi bi, cindi get Mr. Big or Mr. Ringo. Wich wun depinz on stuf offin owta her cuntrol. But, if gotsa choys, she choos Mr. Big, coz he da perfekt nite tym pluggi - beri cumfertibl but also stil kwite strechi. If, Mr. Ringo, datsa lotsa strechi n dat beri challengn uuuuul nite - beri, beri strechi.

So, lettuce sey she gots Mr Big in her hand. He fit in her han beri nyseli. She can grab him n he fill da palm cindiz han. N, wen cindi holdz Mr. Big in her han, alredi her hed stert 2 tinki bowt da strechi. Dat prolli a bimbo ting.

Cindi tekz Mr. Big n da loob, n a towel n she layz down on da floor on da towel. She coberz Mr. Big wif loooob, uuuuuul obr him, frum top 2 bottim. Den, she lay on her syd - on her left syd - n she poots sum loooob on her asscunt 2.

Cindi tenz 2 lay on her elbo n hol up her hed wif her lef han but den da rest da body on da towel; beri relaxd. Cindi bringz up her neez n offin she fyn dat her rite leg furda bent dan her left leg. It sorta da feetal posishn. Dis beri nateril 2 her.

cindi tek pluggi n pooosh it gentli genst da asscunt, jus 2 get Mr. Big rekwayntd gin n also, it bitva teeeez.

Den, beri slowli she stert to poooosh Mr. Big in2 da asscunt - beri slowli n deliber8li n sureli. She beri stil n silent udder dan da poooosh coz she njoy feeln Mr. Big slowli enter da asscunt n stert 2 tek charj.

It prolli onli bowt twenty secunz l8r, sumtymz mebbe mor, n cindi hab da thik end Mr. Big ul da wey 2 da asscunt entrans.

Now, dis wen da reeeeeel werk beegin. Dis wen cindi stopz n reeeeeeeeli cumcentr8z. Gentli but wif determin8n, cindi poooshz on the end of da pluggi n den she hab pluggi sit der 2 c if he ready 2 go ull da wey in. Sumtym, mebbe haf minut l8r, she feelz a grab. Udder tymz, Mr Big nut kwite redi. 2 hep him, bimbo releees him n den do wun big poooooosh. Eida wey, der a momin beri soon afta dat where she feel him tek obr. She let owt a l'il kwiet groan az he tek obr da asscunt n claim it az his own. 4 a secun, it feelz liki dat it jus 2 big 4 cindi n den a secun l8r it feelz jus rite.

Wen pluggi in his plays, cindi meeeedi8li beegin skueeez - lotsa skeeeeezn coz dat how she treynd - 2 skeeeez lots n lotz. Wif fayswashr she wipe wey eni xsess looooob n den she redi go bi bi. Dis da wey ull wel treynd bimboz sweeepiz.

Erli on, cindi nut abil 2 sweeepi ull da nite. Mr Big wakiz her. He ten 2 do tingz 2 her udder holz 2 dat mek it herd 4 cindi 2 stey sweepiz. Tots invayd her myn n she tinki bowt fuckiz lots.

Now, generili, she ken sweeepiz trew da nite happili wif mr big. But, if told yoooos Mr. Ringo, dat a difrin stori. Mr Ringo beerrrriiiiii strechi stil, n cindi kenna ignor him. He get her reeeeei hot n bothrd stil. Mr. Ringo stil a chalinj 4 cindi ulll nite.

In da morni, cindi wakiz beri happili wif her pluggi. Dat a lubeli wey wakiz 4 her. Sumtymz, she nut tek pluggi owt rite wey. It such a loss sumtymz dat she keep in trew da mornin. Nut ull da tym, but sumtymz, def.

Da gole 4 cindi 2 wer pluggiz mor dan she nut. Dat wonna happin dis week...

Mey hab notissd dat Vesta ken get her nikerz in nut. Dis a sheym. cindi nebr dis wey. Her pluggi pasify bimbo n keep her happi n kerfree. A bimbo wiffowt a pluggi a sed ting coz dis da bimbo swich.

cindi beri happi l'il ting. So herd 4 her 2 unnerstan y wood wanna gurl. Herd 4 cindi 2 unnerstan Vesta sumtymz. She nys gurl az gurlz go, gess...

Hope njoyd lernin how 2 yoos pluggi. Eni kestuns? Til 2moro. Bi bi.

Friday, May 6, 2011


I have a tendency to be having such a lovely time in my life sometimes, loving the whole process of becoming submissive, sexy and pliable; happy, confident and sure of myself that I can forget why the dominant person is making all this happen in the first place.

In a nutshell, he likes the control and I like (and really need) to be controlled. We don't have the same rights because that is what I said I wanted; not just verbally one day on the spur of the moment but in a carefully written document that explained what I wanted to achieve; then, and now.

But, the dominant men in my life are not ogres. They can be witty and good fun and light and sometimes...well...I can forget that if you cross them, they can get really mad. And, I can forget that when I am corrected for taking back some control, I can be petulant about that before I get the point.

When in London, I ran about trying on corsets and visiting latex shops where I tried on hoods. I was having my first face to face meeting with kinky people. I was on my own. I was just having a blast!

As I relayed my experiences over the google chat with great excitement and pride of my corset purchase, it (stupidly) did not even occur to me that it was going to be too much of a problem that the one thing I had not done, was the one and only thing I had been told to do.

Silence speaks louder than words at times and so it did: sent to Coventry - again.

Did I rail against my correction? You bet I did. I was furious about it. I thought it deeply unjust. I believe I used the word cruel to describe the consequences. (Harsh is another word I may have considered and strict sadist may have been another thought I had. I considered tough love but it didn't quite have the sense I wanted to convey of my righteous indignation!)

But, the penny has finally dropped. I had been, and, oh dear, this is not easy: I had been disobedient. I had ignored the control and now I was being controlled in a way that I would find very unpleasant. It has been a devil of a week as I go through this process of correction. The girl returned in all her glory.

But here's the thing: that's no good for me any more. I want and need the containment because that's how I function best. That is when I am most happy and when the people in my life are most happy, too.

It can't be easy to train a woman like me. I didn't come down in the last shower and I have an air of confidence about me now to the point where you might say that I have come into my own. I feel a surge of confidence and self assurance that has a power about it. When I wear my corset heaven knows I may bowl someone over with my sense of power!

I think I just forgot what it is all about. I think I was having such a good time that a little act of disobedience didn't seem all that big of a thing. But, it was to him, you see, because I had forgotten who was the one in control and it was not meant to be me.

I've had my little rebellion. Mentally, I've placed a bomb under his chair! But, I get it now. I did a bad, bad thing and this correction of mine, uncomfortable and unsettling as it is, is designed such that I think more than twice before ever disobeying an instruction again.

I do want to say that this particular form of correction - ignoring - does not come without its difficulties. You can't see what is happening to the girl and the dom/top truly has no idea if the correction is working as it should or not.

I have chosen to trust that this is occuring because it is considered 'for my own good'. I have chosen to believe in him and his ways. He has never let me down before. I truly believe that this form of correction (which has gone on for a lengthy period of time) can only be applied when there is a strong connection and a deep level of trust.

In my case, I'm welcome to grow. It's fine if I even feel a sense of power. But, ignoring the dominant's orders is just not on.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


As time has gone on, I've felt a bit uncomfortable at times about sharing myself with the general public. At home, things are so wonderful between my husband and me but I just don't have the desire to write down specifics because it feels odd to me now that anybody could read my words.

I have an affection for this particular blog. I have tried others outlets for my words but it is this blog that I gravitate back towards time and time again and I continue to have a desire to chronicle my experiences here.

I shall leave this post up for a few days so that as many people see it as possible and then I will close the blog except for one reader: myself. I do realize that there is a little contingent of people who enjoy reading here and if you would particularly like to go on reading, you could send me an email and I will add you to the list of readers. In this way, I have a sense of who is reading and I don't have to put so many restraints on what I say or how I say it as I do now.

It may be that this doesn't work. I can only give it a try and see how that goes. In any case, I will use this opportunity to say how much I have enjoyed writing here to now, how appreciative I am of comments and that I wish you well. Chapters of Frederick and Agnes can always be found on David's blog, 'A View from the Top'.

Thank you.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Let there be light

I enjoyed very much reading Haron's excellent post about guilty feelings with regard to embracing one's kinky nature. Long ago I stopped feeling guilty about my kink but I well remember such feelings of guilt. I remember wondering if I should perhaps just return to the way I was; not entirely satisfied with life but at least not having to deal with the guilt. Happily, I pursued understanding myself for all that I am and am delighted to say that guilt about being perverted no longer exists.

It is rather marvellous I must say to read Haron's post having met her so recently and discovering what a delightful and sincere person that she is. Both Haron and Abel surround themselves with the loveliest of people with a similar kink and this morning I found myself thinking that for me, they both represent 'the light'.

The previous statement may make some people reading this giggle for both Haron and Abel can be found role playing most intense (and hot) scenes. If you were to play with them you might find yourself in a old fashioned and sinister reformatory at the turn of the century, punished for the slightest act of disobedience. But, when the scene is over, you may also find yourself down at the pub laughing and enjoying the memories of a great time had by all. I am drawn to that kind of light which is partially an explanation of why I so enjoy their company. There are a lot of laughs to be had and I do so enjoy to laugh!

Yet, the truth is that is my exploration of BDSM in the past couple of years has led me to an exploration of the 'dark side'. I had one of the most amazing nights of my life last night. I had a dream that explored that dark side with a great deal of intensity and clarity. I can't go into it yet. It is too recent to talk about but I distinctly remember my shallow breathing as I held my husband incredibly close.

I remember thinking of him as my light; as my beacon of light in a night of much darkness. I needed much more than for him to hold me tight and protect me from the dark forces. I explored his body with my hands. I kissed him passionately and in his stupor he returned the kiss, took off my pristine new white cotton nightgown from London and fucked me until I begged him to stop. In my heart I knew the dark forces were still out there, but I had been comforted by the light; by the man who was always my beacon of light - a force of good.

I now know exactly why I stray over to the dark side. I am confronted by my own nature to explore that which is the opposite to the light. The clarity of thought in my dream state was illuminating. My mind gravitates to something most would find unacceptable. Lord knows I crave tenderness like any other woman. Yet, the exploration of darkness is a part of my psyche that has risen to the surface and I do not shy away from it.

There have been times in my life when I have needed to walk away; to walk away from situations that I considered dark; to walk back into the light. It was a preservation instinct at work; a respect for myself. I do not have a crystal ball but I wonder if I may now have the strength to embrace the darkness of a soul; to walk towards the darkness unafraid in the hope and faith that within or just beyond the darkness, there lies a special kind of light; a light that is rarely seen by the naked eye; a light that I may experience to illuminate my own state of mind and to take me to places that I somehow feel a need to see and experience.

My journey in the past few years has been built on trust. In one element of the journey there is a form of care, but there is little if anything discernible as tender in the darkness. My question to myself is if I have enough of what I need in reserve to trust that within the darkness, just a little further along the lonely tunnel, lies a special light. Millions would say I was a fool but my instincts, beyond all common sense and the fitness of things is to venture further into the dark forest with faith that what lies within is a transformational and divine light. I may come to my senses and discover that life is really quite wonderful enough living completely in the light. Part of me hopes that I do. Certainly, at the time of writing I have no answer.