Monday, August 29, 2011

Well treated

It is several months ago since the day that I walked into my doctor's office - at least six months ago actually - and said that I couldn't get control of my emotions; that I felt that I just needed to talk to someone about what I was going through. He'd never seen me remotely, vaguely like that. I had always been in control of myself; always knew what I was doing and how to do it. He made note of the new me.

He listened for a while, thought it a good idea that I see someone and had me go home and do a specific online test that would give him direction to make out a "treatment plan" for the psychologist. I did the test purposely whilst my emotional state was raging. I wanted the results to be entirely honest.

Yet, even in that state, the little weird questions thrown in at odd moments were perfectly clear to me:

Do you ever feel that a voice is talking to you? No.

And later,

"Do you feel that you are under any body's control?"

If I answered "no", there were would be no repercussions. If I answered "yes" they would think me slightly mad. I answered "yes". I did feel under some body's control. I was emotional enough not to lie about that.

A few days later, I returned to my doctor to hear him tell me that I was suffering anxiety and that some of my thoughts were perhaps "paranoid". Here we go. Silly, truthful me.

At the psychologist's office, I was subjected to the scrutiny of dozens of questions all trying to get at my sense of things that I was being "controlled". Who was trying to control me and why did I think that way? This was getting a little out of hand.

I told her I knew what this was all about; that I was in a state that day; that I felt that I sometimes had to do things that I didn't necessarily want to do and that I answered the question that way fully aware that there would be questions about it (and made a mental note to say "no" to all such questions when they asked me to take the online test next time).

The fact is that whilst the therapy has assisted me in many ways, enabling me to talk more than anything else; to talk through issues as well as to explore on my own modes of thinking that may not have been beneficial to me, I was never really able to speak to her about the fact that I was being trained as a doll, that I wanted to experience that and that I was intensely aroused by such thoughts. I was never really able to speak to the issues surrounding my sexuality and the enormous sense of power, happiness and contentment I felt in "letting go" in that way. I was never really able to speak to the fact that I was being strongly encouraged to want what the 'dollmaker' wanted; that his wants became my wants; that his wants became my needs; that in fact he was simply bringing to the surface my own internal desires. I simply knew too well that she was writing down what I said and to her intellectually trained mind it was going to sound oh so "unhealthy".

So, I skirted the issues; spoke of my "submissive bubble" and my contentment therein and discovered that her goal became to break the bubble somewhat and encourage me to be more assertive; that the bubble was okay in the bedroom but not elsewhere. I found myself monitoring things to suit all parties. It was becoming hard work. It was useful. I won't say that it wasn't useful but in the end was I simply giving to her what I felt she wanted to have, too?? Ever the good submissive...

Off the top of my head (and I am typing incredibly fast here) I can't explain exactly how the therapy helped me. She said to me the time before last, "I don't have the answer" so I don't think even she could explain exactly how I was helped. But, I was helped. I was steered in certain directions and seeds were sown in my head that enabled me to feel in control of myself; relieved of my anxieties. I recognized my flaws, I suppose; was able to see clearly that I do experience some anxiety and I felt more able to handle it when it did crop up. I recognize it for what it is now and I self-soothe, primarily. If I am feeling particularly able, I ask for what I need - love and attention - and I feel particularly proud when I am able to do that -  a key goal  of my bimbo training, in fact!

The last few years of my life have been so intense, so rich, so challenging, so full of growth, I think I just needed a time out to digest it all and to figure out the lay of the land. Even the therapy at times was intense and believe me, there were days when I wanted to make the call and say to the psychologist I was done now. Thanks, and ciao! She could really annoy me, but I stuck with it and it is probably good that I did.

I think she feels she's done a good job and I would say she has done a good job. But, here's the rub. I'm still the dolli inside. I still prefer to wear dresses and skirts. I still think of my body as a thing to be used (as often as possible please!). I still fantasize in much the same way as I have done for years and I still feel most whole, most complete when I have been nothing more and nothing less than 'the doll' with zero control, inside or outside the bedroom. But, that is going to have to be our secret because if she knew what we knew, it just wouldn't be at all good.

Saturday, August 27, 2011


I have been thinking about 'passion' lately; what makes one person so very passionate and another person hardly at all passionate. This led me to consider 'attachment styles ' and that led me to this statement:

"People with a preoccupied attachment style and anxious people tend to experience passion more often than other people." 

According to Wiki "people with this style of attachment seek high levels of intimacy, approval and responsiveness from their partners. They sometimes value intimacy to such an extent that they become overly dependent on their partners..."

I am still chewing all that over in my mind so I won't go on and on about it now but I know that I am a very passionate person and my husband is a very passionate person. In fact, all my children are very passionate people. But, none more than my youngest son. His father just dropped him off at an art festival. He had made a costume for the event (everybody does) and his excitement was palpable. Don't tell anybody but we even let him miss school on Friday afternoon so that he could attend all three days.

My husband has been concerned about his interests. Will it all lead to a real job he wanted to know? Aware that there was no containing this passion I have encouraged it, supported it and applauded his successes. And just now my husband returned from taking him there and said, "Boy, he could hardly wait to get out of the car. He was biting at the bit to be there. I'm not going to kill that kind of passion. It is just amazing to see." And, it is. He is absorbed in a world of his creation; he adores expressing himself via numerous crafts but none more so than his drawing.

I think what really bothered me about the statement about passion that I quoted was that it implied that in some way passionate people were not as high functioning; not so securing attached as other people; less passionate people. And, maybe that's right. I see other people around me, happily married they say, who are not nearly as passionate as me; much more consistent really.

Yet, I adore passionate people; was attracted to my husband because he was so passionate about so many things; continues to be passionate every day in every way. Yes, those sorts of people can tire you but I know I couldn't be without them; thoroughly enjoy them.

I feel quite feisty about the statement, actually; as if passion was a dirty word. That just can't be right.

Thursday, August 25, 2011


Anxiety is an insidious thing; a silent sort of condition in many cases. It can mask a great deal of other behaviours and I came to know this first hand very recently when I finally managed to put the puzzle pieces together and determine that my youngest child was overly stressed.

It is well known that he is a very bright and capable young man and we were told that he would achieve at a very high level so long as he learned the skills of completing tests and exams within the time period. I knew that this was a problem for him and we put this down, over time, to his perfectionist state of mind. A capable educator worked with him when he entered senior school and together they developed strategies to overcome his perfectionist traits and he was sent on his way.

Mid way through this year, alarm bells rang for me. Together, he and I attended the parent-teacher interviews before the mid year exams and his History teacher, as an example, was excited about his recent essay and she suggested that he review his notes well so that he could attain the A+ he deserved in the exam. However, when his exam was returned the result was confusing. He had indeed attained full marks for the essay but many other simple questions were left completely unanswered.

His report again noted that he needed to finish tests and exams in the required time but there was no plan made. It was clear to me that this capable student had slipped under the radar. He was capable and he would be all right in the end, seemed to be the thinking.

I contacted the school and asked that the same woman work again with my son one and one and give me her opinion. She called me at home after a few more one on one sessions and began to make some comments and finally, I saw the whole picture.

"Do you think these are OCD type behaviours...?" I asked.

Realizing she was speaking to a parent who was open to the truth, she said, "Oh, I definitely do."

Within two hours I had located a highly capable psychologist in cognitive behaviour therapy for obsessive compulsive behaviours and my son has now had two sessions with her. We've already seen some remarkable progress. He has accepted that he suffers from anxiety. He recognizes that he is a perfectionist.  He is beginning to see that he had made many rules for himself; rules which were counter-productive to his happy functioning in the world.

We understand that relieving his body of cortisol and replacing it with endorphins is important and a few nights ago we took the dogs for a walk together. He was having trouble "letting go" of a little annoyance he experienced before we left the house and together at dusk in the park we breathed quietly together, registered all the noises of trains and cars but tried to locate the quiet centre within ourselves. We acknowledged that he was tense and troubled by not finding it easy to let go, but that it would get easier the more he learned to relax and breathe through the anxiety. We hugged tight; a hug he initiated. "Thank you," he said to me later that night. We were on the same team.

This week, we are working on "shoulds" and "musts". He has been asked to locate all the "rules" he has made for himself.  In the spirit of co-operation and in recognition of the fact that I am not entirely free from such obsessive-compulsive thoughts myself, I offered that I find it hard to leave home without the kitchen all neat and tidy and my bed made but that this meant I often kept Daddy waiting. It was a "should" that didn't always work in my favour. He was beginning to see what he had been asked to do: not easy but an extremely valuable exercise.

We are doing what we can to take the stress off too in terms of choices. He will drop one language next year and already this thought is calming him, it would seem. He said he was suddenly enjoying Chinese a lot more knowing that it was the one language he would be carrying through to next year.

And, his electives for next year are all fun stuff - subjects he is biting at the bit to do; studio arts, drama, computing and film and media. He is one of the fortunate boys who will be doing what he is passionate about - at school and beyond.

We are not out of the woods yet but we are certainly well on our way to the transformation of a worried young boy into a relaxed and joyous and highly productive young man because we have recognized and accepted that his behaviour was due to anxiety.

I am beginning to think that much aberrant, defiant behaviour in children (and adults) could well just be the mask and that behind that behaviour is a great deal of anxiety about how they fit into this world and how they will live up to expectations; perhaps others' expectations or perhaps their own. It bodes thought.

Sunday, August 21, 2011


If we know what it is to fall in love - the blood rushing to the head, the pitter pat of our hearts, the endless thinking about someone and wanting of someone, the way the world changes on a dime in terms of light and a sense of beauty that was not previously there - then we have some vague idea of what it is to reveal our innermost desires and thoughts.

I speak of those thoughts that have been our shadow for so many years. Speaking about them, writing about them, experiencing them for real is a heady, light hearted experience not unlike falling in love. You feel extraordinarily lucky. You feel sorry for all the other smucks who don't know what you know. You feel rather full of yourself and feel sometimes that you might burst, holding in this delicious secret that you would like to share with the rest of the world but dare not (hence this web journal).

There were endless opportunities for me to feel superior. How could you all be leading a full life, I would think around a table of friends or people at a dinner or lunch, if you don't know what I know; if you have not experienced what I have experienced? I just felt so extraordinarily lucky to be living finally as I wanted to live, you see.

I have always wanted a very deep connection, to feel a total sex pot; to be done over repeatedly for hours and hours. I wanted to feel a little fear; to not be sure what was going to happen next; to be told what to do, even if I was not at all sure that I wanted to do it. It provided me with the rushes of a lifetime. To have to bite down on the fact that I was being forced (well not literally forced but in my mind, believing there was no alternative) to do something according to the will of another was mind blowingly thrilling - the resistance, the eventual conviction to do it their way, the sense of elation of mission accomplished, the praise...ahhhh, the praise...all more than worth it in the end.My journey into the world of submission was orgasmically, spectacularly thrilling for me and I regret not a single moment of it.

And, then one day, it came to an end. It didn't so much peter out as simply dry up. There were offers to pick up from there but I declined. I seemed to have lost the will. I leaked (tears that just came at inappropriate moments) for too long, was vulnerable for too long and my self-preservation instinct kicked in. I needed to be busy. I needed to find succor in other ways. I needed to look about me with fresh eyes and see what I may have missed while I had been intellectually absent.

I absorbed myself in life in endless ways. I took on new challenges. I faced the fact that I was needed and I dealt with those needs, attended to other people. I determined to focus on calm and a serene peace of mind and as I did so I discovered I had more in reserve - felt better equipped to face and deal with the challenges in front of me.

I could see adjustments in attitude, in resilience and in willingness to try to look at life in new ways in those about me. Either it was an enormous co-incidence or my more serene state of mind was having an effect on others. Again, it was like discovering a whole new way to live. I was not abandoning what had brought me joy before; not at all. But, in its absence I had chosen to love, to forgive, to understand and to accept that I held the keys to change. It was again up to me to find the path forward and in my solitary pursuits such as meditation I had enabled myself to soften more; to be loving in spite of loss I thought might well be inconsolably sad for me. I began to feel the path to the future opening up to me and embracing me as if to say, "You have found your way. Now, it will be all right." There was a divinity about that feeling.

Last night I attended a chamber music dinner which was indeed sublime. Yes, the room was gorgeous: the flowers, the lighting, the table settings, the food and wine. But, it was the music played by boys as young as 14 and as old as 18 that was heavenly. They were passionate, meticulous; united and inspirational. We are talking 'creme de la creme' here; boys who could easily make music their career if they so chose.  It was one 'wow' moment after another and clearly moved, the musical director of the school stood up and said something like, "These boys will never live in the same way again.  Actually playing this music at this level...they will always remember it...hold it in their hearts...and it will effect their lives in a positive way for as long as they live."

This is exactly how I feel about my explorations - those explorations that I have reported in this journal. Even if I never experience again what I have done in the past in quite the same way, that I lived as I wanted to live, experienced what I want to experience, means that I will never live the same way again and will hold those experiences in my heart for as long as I live. I have been truly blessed.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Desire, dolli style

Cindi new wen she wakiz dis mornin dat she in need n she hug her onnir. But, der no tym 4 mor dan huggiz n soon cindi takin her boy 2 skewl. Beri soon afta dat it tym 4 yoga n afta dat a soy flat whyt wif her frendz. N, afta dat, she bi da dindinz at da owtdoor market; flowerz 4 da vase.

Cindi no dat der littil tym b4 she doo at skewl 2 hep wif da big moozik din dnnz on saterday nite. Der only wun howr 2 hessef at best. Cindi nebr did dis ebr b4 but at da market she bi a hooooj coocumbr. She tek da coooocumbr n cubr it wif a condom. She tek off her jim clothz n she bring da coooocumbr up 2 her pussy cunt. Mebbe cindiz iz biggr dan der stumik. Dat coooocubr hooooj n cindi nut abil 2 hab it enter ull da wey up her pussy cunt. It no mattr reeeli coz it doin da job. Cindi beri happi wif da sens8nz.

Cindi lookiz at da clock n beri soon she dooo 2 cum 2 skewl. Cindi no dat it nut pussibil 4 her 2 go 2 skewl alone dis dey. She reeeeli need wun her pluggiz cum long. So, cindi poot da ass pluggi wey up in2 her ass cunt n instanli dat mek her feel better. But, it nut gud nuf. So, cindi tek da vaginal ballz n plays dem up hi in her pussy cunt. Dat beri gud! Now she abil 2 get dressd n go 2 skewl.

Cindi anticip8 dat she onli der 4 an howr or 2 but in fakt she der 4 obr 3 howrz helpin owt wif da plays namz n flowerz n so on. She reeeli njoy her tym der coz pluggi n da ballz mek her feel so fyn n beri cuntaynd n bimbo. Ebn do she hab cumcentr8, undaneef da cumcentr8n she feel happi n bit silli.

Bi da tym cindi cum home gin, she beri relaxd n she lyt da fire n poot on da dinn dinnz, she opin a bottil wine n wach da werld newz. (Dolliz nut nessesserli unnerstan deez tingz on da werld newz but dey liki tri sumtymz 2 follow long.)

Wen onnir cum home, cindi bit unda da wetha n beri beri lusti. Onnir feel her pluggi n poosh n challinj da bimbo n cindi tri 2 get at his cocki. But, onnir tell her dat notti coz da kiddiz nut dat far wey. So, onnir tel cindi dat in da bedroom der a serpryz 4 her. Cindi hab a feelin dat she best tek owt da ballz n dat such a gud ideyn coz onnir poot sumtin in2 her pussi cunt. She soon lern dat it a vibr8n, remote cuntrol ball n it doin da most mazin tingz 2 her. Tween da pluggi n da vibr8n ballz all dat cindi ken sey, “bubba”, “bubba” “buuuuuubbba” obr n obr gin. Tween tymz she suk n suk wey on her thumb.

Onnir yoos cindi n finally he feel it tym 2 tek owt da vibr8n ball but eech tym he tri cindi moan n grone n in da end he ken only stop da vybr8n. It jus ull 2 sensitif n cindi mekin 2 much noyz 2 do eni mor dan dat.So, cindi stil werin da ballz  n da pluggi n she beri hot n botherd. She stil in her bubba babi cindi dolli zone n it feeeelz soooooo gud.

If ebr newun sey it silli dat cindi jus a dolli, u ken tel dem frum cindi dat dey rung. Dum dum dolliz hab sooooo beri much mor fun dan dem gurlz n cindi prowd she a doll.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Personal power

I have been thinking about the 'personal power' chakra and I have been thinking too about the visualization that my meditation teacher told us about in some detail - a way of making the personal power chakra stronger. I even mentioned it to my psychologist in one of my final sessions. (There have only been ten sessions but they have been stretched out over a few months.)

My psychologist is very much a pragmatist, a recovering perfectionist, a feminist who I can see bristling when I mention 'submission' and so I knew that the chakras would not be her thing. But, I felt the need to tell her that I thought the chakras and my personal power weakness to be related to my thoughts - and thoughts are definitely her thing.  I explained to her that I very, very much wanted to maintain balance in life - to have peace within myself by finding my boundary point (or balance) within and not allowing other people to interfere overly in maintaining that balance.

I explained to her that I sometimes felt that my joyful and peaceful state was disrupted by others who needed me to deal with their own upset and distress and that despite my best efforts to stay calm and balanced within myself, their upset upset me.

Somehow or other we were quickly into the world of my thoughts and she was going over old territory and delving further. We were talking about my "guilt" and blind Freddie could have seen that she had a point. When I had a plan of my day or my morning and some loved one came along with their own needs of me I quickly bought into the notion that their needs superseded my own. Although I was put off balance by this I invariably gave into their needs due to my feelings of guilt that otherwise I would be considered a "bad mother" or a "bad wife" or a "bad submissive". It went back to the notion of "subjugation" and it needed to return to the notion of "assertiveness" where I had the personal power to express the fact that I had needs of my own. I needed to create "barriers" around myself, she said.

I told her that I had been accepted for the Masters of Writing programme at my desired institution but was a little concerned. My desk was close to the action of the household, although I did have a little nook in my sights upstairs where I would have more privacy. She went in for the kill. Yes, the nook was a good idea and when there, unless it was an emergency, I should not be interrupted, she said. I had to be forceful about this. I had to claim my right for this to be considered important to me.

I needed to write new "narratives", she said. I needed to see that it was not helpful to other people to always jump to their beck and call. They needed to understand the consequences for their own actions and to rely less on me. Most of all, I needed to drop the guilt. I had devoted my life to my family and this was my time in the sun. She was still talking softly but I could see she was firm about this. At one point she even said, "tell them that Michelle said..." Oh boy!

This morning I went to my yoga class and when we completed the class with our regular relaxation time on our mats I felt ready to try something that I had been thinking about for 5 days. I decided to try the meditation that my teacher had told me about to boost my personal power. It just seemed the right time to do that.

I was at the base of a mountain; a beautiful and lush mountain, perhaps in Bali. I was dressed comfortably for the warmth of the day and I began the trek up the mountain; step by step up the wooden steps. By the time I reach the mountain top, a plateau, I was weary but invigorated by the beautiful view of other mountain caps in the distance. It was all stunningly green and the heavens seemed close.

Maybe 100 metres away I saw a beautiful, brightly coloured cushion and a small fireplace glowing bright. I approached the cushion and saw that there was paper and pen on the cushion and I picked it up and sat down on the cushion with my legs crossed. I knew that I was here for a purpose and on the paper I wrote down the behaviours of one person in particular; the behaviours of that person towards me that had hurt me. I made a list of those behaviours and when I had finished I crunched the paper into a ball.

I held the ball of paper in my hand, and registering that the person was indeed very safe and that I only had influence over their hurtful behaviours, I carefully placed the ball of paper into the fire. I did not take my eyes off the paper until the flames had turned every bit of the paper into ash and even then I sat for a minute or so and accepted that the bad behaviours of the past had been destroyed.

I felt my breathing soften and calm and as I looked about me, east and west, I could see nothing but spectacular beauty. I had an urge to stand and as I stood I felt a desire to bring my hands up to the heavens. I twirled and felt a magnificent lightness of being. My chest swelled with a knowledge of my new found personal power. I felt it lift upwards and I felt the surge of energy.

In real life, I was still laying on my yoga mat in a room full of women but I was unable to stop the tears that flowed from my eyes and down the sides of my face. This was a surreal moment; a holy, sacred moment of love and power and energy. My personal power chakra overflowed with a new sense of enlightenment.

It is said that one meditates when one needs to be with oneself and when one is ready, and each person knows this instinctively if they care to listen to themselves, they will return to the relationships of their lives and have more to give. My heart tells me very clearly that this is time to meditate.I trust that this will renew me in such a way that my loved ones will ultimately be the benefactors of my understanding that we must each have a relationship with ourselves. This does not, in my estimation, go against submission but merely makes for a more complete human being, better able to express his or her true nature.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Switching on the chakras

I think I would be prepared to walk over hot coals to get to my meditation class on Tuesday lunchtimes. I love it that much! I have had some great visualizations that way and in a sense I feel like my meditation teacher and I have walked together through the range of emotions that have presented themselves to me over the past few months.

We have been working on the 7 chakras over the past three sessions and it has taken a little getting to know and understand them for me to take it all on. I had to familiarize myself with the colors and places in the body and I had to confirm my visual perspective of turning the chakras on. I got right away the idea of "flipping the switch on"  since cindi has a bimbo "switch" and I have been turning that on for years.

The part about visualizing the turning on of the chakras that I wasn't certain about was if I turned them on in the front of my body or the back, or both? The following session Bec brought in a picture of what they might look like turned on and I could now understand that they were turning balls of energy. Yep yep, got that now, but I still needed to know more. "How fast do they spin?" I wanted to know. That is when I got the potentially worrying news that they can "over spin" which might mean that I was not dealing with reality but living in a fantasy world.

I closed my eyes and settled, ready for my chakras to spin themselves into oblivion. As deeply entrenched in the land of bimbo as was I,  surely this was my fate. Not at all! My chakras were if anything, labored. I was spinning them with some sort of hand crank. It was not until Bec led me into a much more comfortable zone that my chakras spun comfortably and effortlessly and with balance.

With that session under my belt, I went home to research. I needed to know much more about chakras and the Dalai Lama's 'Mind in Comfort and Ease' is on its way to me as we speak. In the meantime, a cursory look on the Internet revealed that I could take a 'chakra test' to see which ones were not working effectively. I took the test on the weekend at a time when I felt out of sorts, abandoned, helpless and feisty all at the same time; me at my most vulnerable and needy. Not a good look! Lo and behold, my chakras were all "weak": not a strength to be found amongst them.

It is already Monday for me, though probably not for you, and I was awakened to the news that Monday morning would now be a morning of "discipline" to set me straight for the week ahead. Oh goody! I got paddled and used, always a delicious combination. But, even more edifying was the rolled up newspaper bent across the car bonnet when we both arrived home separately from an early task only for my husband to discover that I had left the garage door open in my haste. It was lovely and stingy and relatively long and it completed the re-setting of my head completely.

I came upstairs and when I checked my emails I saw that a link had been sent to sit the same chakra test. I must have done that twice without realizing. I decided to take the test again with my new mindset and the results were very different. In fact, only two chakras remained "weak" whilst the rest were now "strong". Isn't that interesting?!

I now know where my focus must lie - on my "personal power chakra" (yellow) and on my "crown chakra" (violet) and that certainly makes sense to me since those are areas of life that I identified myself earlier in the year that are in need of work. Nice to know I was on the right track.

But, the point I did want to make was that I, and perhaps other people with submissive natures, tend to change their mindset with the wind. One day is gloomy and the next full of sunshine depending, it would seem, on how right they feel with the world. When they feel in their rightful place down there on the bottom, it elevates their state of mind and gives them a supremely better and more positive point of view.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Brute

Lana felt the desire to be handled by a strong, virile man like an ache. It kept her awake at nights. The need for that sort of physical presence would come over her as a desperate longing. She wanted to feel strong hands around her throat making her gasp for air. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body - tweaking her nipples, grabbing her ass, feeling the wetness emanating not just between her legs but from the centre of her being.

More than anything else, Lana wanted to be handled roughly. She wanted no say in the matter. She hoped that she would not need to express that which would come easily to her lips - that he could do with her, whatever he wanted. She hoped he was the kind of man that did not need to ask such a question. 

Lana wanted to be fucked - to be vigorously fucked. She wanted to feel like putty. She wanted to feel like a piece of meat, so pliable and compliant that he could throw her into any position he chose and fuck her at will. She wanted him to pound into her so hard that at the end her whole body would shake in shock. 

It was Lana's hope that this brute of a man would desire her in all her holes - perhaps not all at once, but throughout the day and night. She wanted to worship his manhood on her knees with his cum dripping down her throat but even more than that, her fervent hope was that he would turn her over to lie on her stomach with a bolster under her hips and ease his way into her ass. She could almost feel the bliss of sinking into that surrendered state just thinking about it; the sense of having been taken; of being owned, if only for that night. 

Lana knew in her heart that she would never allow just any man to have his way with her; that he would need to be worthy and she would need to feel his presence as one soul talking to  another soul. She feared looking into his eyes and seeing nothing there but temporary and transient lust. She would need to feel a connection. Yet, she could not deny that at this moment alone in her bed, in the dead of the night, her need for the brute superseded all rational thought. The desire to be fucked long and hard was that urgent.

Monday, August 1, 2011

What feels best

I am often told that I am "strong". People will say to me "you are a strong woman". I suppose that I have heard it enough now that I have chosen to believe it.

I think it is true that I am a survivor and more than that, someone who can turn around a difficult situation and make it right. I sometimes have an image of quite literally twisting my head around until it looks at a problem or a situation from a new perspective. I guess you could say that I believe that if you only make the effort to look at a situation with a fresh perspective, the solution is in there somewhere. If all else fails, well then I simply "choose" to be happy. Being sad can be so boring for me and I simply say something to myself along the lines, "Look, it is not that bad. It is actually fine. You are okay." The positive thought just kick starts me and off I go.

I loathe the thought of being a "victim" and I just don't allow myself those sort of indulgences too often or for too long. You are only a victim if you believe you are a victim and I believe that I have the capacity to rise above that sort of thinking. We all do.

I am incredibly proud of my third child. I don't refer to him often because he is a private person and I feel I should respect that, even here in my very private space. But, I will say that I am extremely proud of him. I applaud his ability to see any set back as just that: a setback. He has had his failures but he has never wallowed in them; always immediately planned to resolve the situation; always gets right back on his bike. I don't know where he got his resilience but if we all had what he has, we'd be in very good shape indeed.

But, having said all that, at the heart of the matter is the fact that I am a very gentle and soft person. When I am hurt or feeling low, I feel it down to my toes. In line with my nature, asking for anything is very, very difficult and that includes support, comfort or consolation. It is the Achilles heel of strength unfortunately: the inability to ask for anything at all; to simply soldier on.

Commonsense tells me that one cannot improve a skill unless one practices it and so it must surely go that  I need practice in asking. I understand this as a rational thought and yet it remains an extraordinarily hard thing for me to do. My thinking goes like this: "If he wanted to talk to me, or if he wanted to spend time with me, or if he wanted to use me, then he would. And, if he doesn't do that thing I want, then that tells me he doesn't want to do it, and if he doesn't want to do it, then that's it.  I don't want him to feel obliged to do it. I'll just sit here in the dark and wait."

Reality bites, too. My reality is making me to do more myself; to rely more on my own nouse and to practise independence and competence. It is the opposite of asking: it is saying, just get on with it!

Recognizing my own competence in more areas is not a bad thing. I enjoy expressing my competence on one level. Yet, deep within me I am aware that what I really want is to feel comfort and support: to express my needs and deepest desires; to be the dum dum dolli much more often than I can. Oh dear, but I want that state - what a hole in my heart there can be at times as I crave for that state of  mind!

Once a doll, always a doll. Create the doll and she lives forever. She needs to express herself and so no matter how strong I am, I am also in need; in need of dominant energy. I cannot ask for that but I can remain hopeful that it will come my way. And, when it does, I can feel so much better than able, so much better than competent, so much better than strong. I can feel completely alive.