What's in it for me?

We've moved away from the idea that there is a fixed way of doing things, thinking about things and seeing things. There are few 'rules' and 'norms' left that are intractable. Think about the rules of marriage, for example. It was very recently thought that two people of the same sex could never marry. It was considered a 'fact'. Soon, the 'facts' may change.

I would argue that people who write about their lives and their thoughts concerning their BDSM desires and experiences are creating their own realities. People write about their perceptions and understanding of things using rhetoric (language choices) as is to be found on blogs such as mine and those whom I read. We say, in countless ways and on many days, that we don't accept 'the way things are' and that we don't need to accept other people's views on how to live.

We aim to communicate effectively about what is in our hearts, our minds and our loins (!) by using rhetorical argument of one kind or another. In our choice of words and in our emotional appeals we try to convince and persuade our readers that our version of 'reality' is legitimate; pleasurable; erotic; healthy; realistic; or whatever else we happen to want to say about how we are leading our lives.

Some of us use photographs to assist with the argument we are making and often this photograph(s) will convey pleasure of one kind or another. Often, it is the idea of pleasure, joy, peace, balance, contentment, connection and so on that we look to explain and describe. Some of us write stories in an effort to explain the appeal and dynamic of people such as us, hopeful that our characters can convey to readers what our arguments may not.

A few years ago I read a story that I felt did a masterful job of convincing the reader that dominance was a pleasurable thing. The point was excellently made by the author contriving a little scene. There was a woman whose husband had given her a voucher for her birthday. This voucher entitled her to an act of dominance by a man who would act as her 'dominant' for the purposes of the 'gift'.

The woman was unconvinced and ambivalent about her husband's gift. She asked question after question of the man at the initial interview. "What's in it for me?" she asked in various ways, until the man had had enough. He telephoned a woman he had already dominated and asked her if she would like to orgasm. She said she would like that very much.  The man told her that she was not to orgasm until and unless she was given permission. This aroused the woman and very soon she was asking to come. He repeated that she was not to come.

The woman who had come to the man was so far not impressed. She was listening on the loudspeaker. As the minutes passed, the woman who wanted to orgasm was becoming rather desperate. Just talking to the man was making her very aroused and the more she thought about her desire to orgasm the more she desperately wanted/needed to orgasm. Her pleas and begging were reaching a fever pitch with the man continually insisting that she could not come yet; that she must wait for his permission.

The woman was now beside herself; utterly desperate. To the woman listening, she seemed to be in a great deal of pain. The woman listening felt incredibly sorry for her and could barely stand to hear her desperation. She also was now begging the man to let the poor woman orgasm, for heaven's sake; to put her out of her misery...

Finally, the man gave permission for the woman to orgasm and her explosive shrieks and orgasmic thrills and spills could be heard over the loudspeaker for the man and woman to hear in all their glory.

"Can you do that for me?" asked the woman to the man.

"If you do exactly what you are told..." he replied.

"Where do I sign up?" she wanted to know.

No words said by the man were able to explain to the woman what the 'gift' was but the other woman's pleasure spoke to her. She definitely was interested in that!

Sometimes, I get despondent because I think the game for me might be over. I do so adore this game of cat and mouse we play. I do so crave the pleasures of the body and the mind that BDSM practices provide. Thank God, they're not over for me. A new naughty toy can light my world like no diamond can do and for a fraction of the price. I'm in this for pleasure. Pure. decadent. greed. That's what is in it for me.

Curve ball

There's a strong erotic component to a power exchange; at least, there is for me. Without the erotic component firmly in place, the attraction for a power exchange relationship is not nearly as strong as it would otherwise be.  I mentioned a few posts ago that the idea of a professor who supported my efforts was attractive. The fantasy would be much more appealing however if he were deeply attracted and aroused by me and couldn't wait to bed me. I am perfectly happy to move from a professional stance to an erotic stance and back again and I can certainly handle both components in a fantasy, or in real life for that matter.

Sometimes, life isn't particularly erotic. People get sick and develop complaints that mean that their energy supplies may be zapped. They may feel achy and have muscle pain and their minds may not operate as sharply as they once did. There are all sorts of conditions where this may be the case: chronic fatigue syndrome to name just one such condition. When such a condition occurs there is no easy solution and life changes for a period of time.

When you are in a committed relationship such as I am, an honest to goodness 'for better or worse, in sickness and in health' relationship, the only question that needs to be answered is 'how do I help him best?'. One's own needs and desires must be put aside and somehow the power exchange that one entered into has to be modified. The boss is always the boss but how he operates may have to change for a time.

I don't know for sure if this is what is in the cards for me. It may be so and I am speculating how to best manage this period of my life if that were to be the case. I'm not a natural nurse. I like my family to be fighting fit. I like to be fighting fit. I need to find a state of mind wherein life may be slower and little may be achieved by him; a life wherein more responsibility must be born on my shoulders but with even more empathy and sensitivity than usually required on any regular given day.

Decision making is a potential area of great difficulty. Decisions are often his domain but if he didn't feel he wanted to make a decision on any given day, is there to be no decision or would he be willing to give some power to me? I can't imagine him doing so with any ease. Giving up control is something he wouldn't like no matter what the circumstances...

I've done a little reading to prepare myself. It's what I do. I like to be prepared. I've spend the past few weeks making a lot of suggestions and it seems that if there is no easy solution to the situation I have to stop doing that and instead ask how he is traveling today; accept that some days will be much better than others; find my peace with it.

I've actually committed to a big academic workload for the next three months but how interesting my instincts were that I didn't arrange an overseas holiday this year, although we talked about it. We do have planned a little sojourn but it is an easy thing; no pressure and any amount of rest as is required. My instincts were good there. I'll have to be extra organized but some exercise every day and getting to my desk early in the day should enable me to keep ahead of the workload and keep myself well.

This period of time is not about me. It is about him. Yes, he's the boss and I'm the submissive but I have no choice but to step up to the plate and nurture him; to dig deep and find my inner strength; to put aside my own needs at this time. I'm not sure how to play that out right now but I'll work on that; be open to moderating things as we go.

I was fortunate to read an article about Michael J Fox yesterday whilst out and about and I liked what he had to say; that his focus is on 'acceptance' and not on 'expectation'; that the more he can achieve this state of mind, the better the day goes. It resonated. I look forward to seeing him speak when he comes to Australia later this year. He noted that his wife is appalled when people say how good she is to have stayed with him. "Huh? He is my husband!" she replies.

That's the point. In a life together some shit is going to happen. But, life is what you make it and we'll be fine.

Responsibiity

In a power exchange, the behavior of participants is determined by their role: top or bottom. Well, we'd like to think so but if you were to read an honest story or walk into a truthful movie or a real life scene of a P/E couple you might be surprised. I've never met or engaged with a man who hasn't at some stage acted like a drama queen, or a jerk, or totally unreasonably. It would be absurd to think that the bottom is the only one trying to control his or her responses, as if 'bottoms' are in some way the out-of-control ones and tops are the all-knowing, 'always in control' ones.

A simple and altogether to-be-expected characteristic of the Top (of any person at all) is that there are going to be moments when they fail miserably. They are sometimes going to be egocentric; sometimes wingers and sometimes irrational. Here's the thing: they are sometimes completely wrong; sometimes aberrant; sometimes totally engaged with their own lives and well being. If they are feeling ill often all bets are off.

These are tough times for the submissive. If he's out of control and not in a Toppish state of mind the submissive has to figure out for himself or herself what to do. In my experience, complaining doesn't work. If they aren't feeling like a Top, then there's not a great deal you can do about it. (I know about asking and begging but if they aren't into it for a time that can potentially make it worse, in my opinion).

I therefore wish to suggest that the submissive has no choice but to develop the skill of being strong because there are going to be these times when she cannot rely on her Top for sustenance; when she must be strong for herself and even strong for him.

The vast majority of Tops, I would think, recover. Their inability to fulfill their duty to their bottom is only temporary. Once the crisis in his mind abates he is back to business. All is well.

I do want to speculate, however, that if the Top makes a habit of this the submissive really has no choice but to rely on her own reserves more and more. It's entirely possible that without a choice she  comes to rely on her own internal source of strength to such an extent that the relationship loses its appeal for both of them.

Accepting a submissive into your life has enormous advantages but also great demands. As much as she must make time in her life for the demands of being someone's submissive so must the Dominant make time and energy for fulfilling his role as the leader. The dominant really must  try to lead even in times of stress because she isn't incapable of leading, it is simply not her choice.

My professor

It would be understandable if it was thought that I had a 'thing' for school masters and/or headmasters. A man in such a role has often featured in the stories I have written and in my fantasies. In fact, I don't have a thing for men in that role at all. I don't recall a single school master who has ever made me feel weak at the knees. I've been attracted in a kinky way to their aura of authority but not specifically them.

In fact, I'm much more likely to be attracted to a professor. I recall one particular professor who lived in the next college and a few of the girls and I would go over there for history tutorials. I got the impression he'd happily bed any number of girls and word around the traps was that he did just that. Is there a better job in all the world than being a live-in history professor in a university college? I doubt it.

When I was at university there was an English professor who gave lots of the lectures. I wasn't remotely attracted to him but I was attracted to the fact that he had a wife who was a tutor in the English department as well. I liked that model and I could imagine that life. He'd sometimes say something like, "Sorry, people. Helen will be right along. She's just rang to say that she had to get the casserole on and she'll be a couple of minutes late."

That sounded perfect; the sort of job where you could pop into the university and give a tutorial and dash back home to take the casserole out of the oven after that. Your husband was a tad more senior than you and you could discuss your work, or a novel or a film and he would be genuinely interested. I distinctly remember feeling a bit jealous of her because she was living the life that I would have happily lived.

My husband would laugh his head off if he read that because the man gave lectures (according to my science student boyfriend who once accompanied me for fun) that were bullsh*t. Well, they were a tad academic and  highfalutin and he was rather 'up himself' but let's not destroy my fantasy, shall we?

I suspect this is where one of my oldest fantasies originated. I worked in the English department of a university and my man was the head of the department (of course). This union was about physical attraction and so on but it had a lot to do with the fact that he liked that I was capable and he expected me to do my very best work and to do it on time. He'd give me a special assignment and he'd rely on me doing it very well.

Prone to procrastination at times, I sometimes took advantage of our relationship and was tardy. He would be over me like a tonne of bricks. It simply wasn't good enough, he would say and he would tell me that I was to sit at my desk and not to move out of my chair until the work was done, at which time he would read it to ensure it was done to the highest standard. At times, I had to revise until it was done to his satisfaction. Interestingly, in my fantasy I never argued the point about this. He was definitely the one in charge.

It's been some time since I have had that little fantasy and I'm not quite sure now whether I was sometimes spanked later or not. As far as I recall, it was really about the intellectual control of me; the fact that he was overseeing my academic and intellectual output; that he demanded that I be the best I could be.

This sort of relationship is not unlike another role model I had early on in our marriage. Opposite the house we bought was a cottage and this lovely man, very well known in arts circles in town who we shall call George lived with his much younger cute blonde haired gal. She had a job in the arts world too and it seemed to me that he acted as her mentor or guiding force, really. They had us in for drinks one Sunday which turned into lunch. George made that and then hurried her along to the radio station to do her little show, not in a highly dominant or controlling way but in a "darling, you best scoot or you'll be late..." sort of way. I liked the way they interacted. I liked the fact that he was very kind to her and happy with her and when he died, well, I know she was devastated.

My most recent male tutor has moved on now to another university but I recognized right away that I had a strong impulse to please and impress him. I didn't find him attractive per se but there was something in his responses to me that made me want very much to please him and it certainly pleased me a great deal when I did impress him just before he moved on.

That's the central point here. I like to please and I like the idea of someone encouraging me to do my very best work because they know I am capable of that if I try hard and they see it as their job to ensure that happens.

I've really enjoyed returning to this simple little fantasy today. There's not an implement in sight; no nasty sadism or discipline; just someone insisting that I do my best; cuddling me; being there for me; loving me well. What mattered most in the fantasy is that I was appreciated, encouraged; thought bright; aided him. Together, we were a partnership. I may have been the bottom of the relationship (was the bottom of the relationship) but we walked on an even playing field.

I've noticed a difference in my state of mind lately. I've no idea if it is a passing fancy or not but my mind has returned to this sweeter, kinder sort of relationship. Importantly, there is no attempt on my part to grab control and there never ever was a desire to grab control. However, there is a strong tendency to want to be nurtured; encouraged to be my best. I've no idea where this thought will or could lead. I am simply noticing.

Challenge

I know I am writing a lot at the moment. Please do feel free to ignore me. I write here because it's the perfect 'notebook' for me and my ideas. If a thought comes to me and I don't write it down, it can fly away and not necessarily come back to me for a long time. Hence, as the thought occurs, I write it down and at least this way I can retrieve it for further thought or for some writing task later on.

Coffee with the girls after Pilates class led to a discussion of the brain. As you do. Actually, this discussion was between me and one other woman who has a psychology degree and is in between jobs working in HR at the corporate level. She's been doing a lot of reading about the brain (that's what she does for fun; a woman of my own heart!) and yesterday she attended a seminar wherein they had participants hold their hands and then contort them around so everything about folding their hands was the other way around. Then, they asked them to move their middle finger. For a time, most people couldn't do that, but as they really focused hard on the task, they found they could. It is said that they "re-mapped" their brain.

Not so long ago, it was thought that if you had a stroke, let's say, that was that and parts of your brain were now probably inaccessible to you. We (the 'we' being researchers) now know that we can find other pathways in the brain. As well, learning and challenges allow a rather tired or slack or depressed brain to re-charge. It is never too old to learn or to re-wire the brain; to locate hidden talents within yourself or to reinvent yourself.  It is all entirely do-able so long as you are brave and take that first step towards reaching your dreams. Once you've taken that first step, the rest will come. Just be brave.

I think BDSM has benefits for a person that go far beyond play or pleasure. The challenges of BDSM can indeed open your mind to all sorts of other challenges because you get to see that you are brave; that you can do it. "I did it!" say little children. Just tap into that joy; that pleasure in succeeding and take the chance.

Of course, when a child says, "I did it" then the parent or teacher or caregiver says, "Oh wow!! wowedy wow! Yes, you did do it! Aren't you brave! Aren't you the clever one!" We all need that. We all want someone to be proud. And, that's where the power exchange comes into its own. Because the best of doms will be over the moon about your success. Some of the sweetest moments of my life were receiving messages like, "mr d beri beri prowd!"

So, be the best you can be. Shoot for the stars. Follow your dreams. Then, bask in the glow of pride. It's living life at its best. 

Age

I've had friendships or 'relationships' for want of a better word with people much younger and much older than me. In all cases, if you insist on there being a leader of that relationship, then I can say that I was definitely not it. Even with Bart (my writing buddy) I work on the basis that he has stronger skills than me and knows more than me about writing and I think that's an accurate interpretation. I probably choose this sort of relationship because I know that it can aid me and on some level it feels more comfortable for me.

I've wondered about the age gap. When you have been a mother of several children you develop a tendency to mother people just a bit . People either like that or they deflect such attempts. Bart is considerably younger than me (about 25 years) and my attempts to get him to slow down in life were fruitless.

As a person who has walked this earth a couple of decades longer than him it was clear to me that his relentless activity would lead nowhere good. Working seven days a week, taking on three Masters subjects (and he even taking on two Masters at a time for a while there) as well as being newly married, something had to give. He did get rid of one of the Masters but it was not enough.  He and his wife are in the throes of divorce, with the writing course temporarily put on hold. I could have told him but here's the thing: he was never going to listen.

It goes without saying that when I was a working girl I was the subordinate in the relationship and that went right across the board. He'd give me (financial) advice. Sometimes I'd take it and sometimes I wouldn't. Sometimes, that was because I was newly married and I needed to take my husband's advice, even if I felt that what my boss had to say had merit.

"You should take my advice," he said one day, in a frustrated way.

When I met him for lunch many years later and he wasn't all that long for this earth, the relationship's synergy, its dynamic hadn't changed at all. I'd suggested a place to meet and he didn't like it so we got in his car and drove further down the main road. It didn't take long for me to realize that he was rather unwell now and that I was taking my life in my hands really to be driving in that enormous car with him behind the wheel. But, our dynamic didn't allow me to say anything.

Later, when he drove me back to my car he asked if I could get across the road all right on my own. It was an 'in' joke. He'd often say something like that to me as if I were a bit helpless and I smiled and assured him I'd be careful. His life may have been limited now but when together we were still operating in the same ways.

It makes me wonder...does the significantly older person of the relationship bear the responsibility in some way? I know that when I was being mentored I often felt that age was no barrier. He treated me in very much the same way as I imagined he would have treated someone a decade younger; two decades younger. I had great respect for the fact that the rules were the same for me as anyone else and I hope he respected the fact that I didn't intentionally try to assert myself via age. I might have tried that on once or twice but quickly got cyberspacely slapped across the wrist for it. After that, I let any advantage in being older go.

Having said that, here's the thing: I am older. I have experienced more. I haven't experienced more in a BDSM sort of way. No way. However, I have experienced more of life. I've just been around longer; can predict more easily what is likely to happen; how life is likely to play out. I see it in the relationships of women friends married to younger men. The women have been around the traps longer; seen more. Even if the husbands are the leaders, and they are, it is that much harder to hold back on giving advice; to want to explain the likely outcomes of this or that plan of action.

My brother referred to me as "the bedrock" of the family on the weekend. Wow. I had never thought of it like this before. Yet, I get what he means. You reach a certain age and you start to feel that it is your job to protect your flock, those people that you care about. You can't save them if they refuse to be saved but you can listen and discreetly suggest and just make sure that they all know that you are always there for them.

It is  a bit of misnomer: 'submissive woman'. A woman who gets to my age feels a certain sense of power and capability; a comfort in her own skin that belies the title of 'submissive woman'. Truly, I am strong and invincible these days. I've been through enough to know that I can survive.

It doesn't mean that I can't get a huge thrill from submitting. I very much know that I can be thrilled and that I revel in those beautiful moments of my life. But, I am mature now.

My boss used to say that I left his employ just in the nick of time; that the trade in-able age was 30. After that, he said, women were too interested in doing things their own way. And Ron, our Texan friend said the same thing He'd had two wives, one his own age and one almost two decades younger and neither of them liked the fact that they couldn't change him a dolt. He was going super young next time, he said!

But what a thrill, yes!? To have the mature woman with a sense of self and a string of 'sensibilities' wobble at the knees and actually want to, beg to, submit to your will! Whether 35 or twice that age, that has to be quite the charge.

In three days

Menopause can be unkind. A woman can find that without hormone replacement therapy she lacks vitality and her sexuality can wane. A blood test can easily establish the status of hormones in a woman's body, fortunately, and the matter can be sorted and balance restored.

Personally, I have not needed to go down that road but it was established that there is one hormone that my body can no longer make in adequate quantities. Twice a year an implant is put underneath my skin and within days I am very aware that my body and my mind are reacting  in ways that bring my sexuality front and forward.

One of the students in my tutorial, a young bi-sexual man mentioned in the discussion board recently that he has abandoned the idea of writing about his sexuality (opting instead to writing about gaming) because his sexuality wasn't really all that much a part of his day. He went to work and came home again and slept and ate and saw friends. When he sat down to write about his sexuality nothing really came to the surface, he said.

If you've had more than a few minutes reading this web journal you know that I don't have all that much trouble writing about my sexuality and that it is an important element in my life. I know when testosterone is very low in my body. The sexual thoughts still come regularly; too regularly some might say. However, it is more through a bit of a foggy environment. They aren't crystal clear as they will be in about three days. (I go to collect my implant and have it put in shortly.) With adequate amounts of the hormone in my blood stream, my thoughts will return to rather lewd and even crude images and my body will respond with the desire to be satisfied. It will all take on the urgency with which I am now so familiar.

It's odd. I have running through my tumblr site any number of very graphic photographs. Sometimes, all you can see are body parts being penetrated. I doubt I have an ounce of testosterone left in my body as I write these words and I still find a certain peace in looking at those images. They still mean something to me. They remind me that my body is something I wish to be used; that my mind can find a stillness and a sense of well-being that I seek; that all is right in my world.

Yet, in three days (or close thereto) the hunger will return and a more appropriate word than 'hungry' would be 'ravenous'. The urgency will come again and my desire to be taken and ravaged will return to the forefront of my mind. In some ways, I'll become a burden again, too.

As I write these words first thing in the morning before the busy days of my life start up again and I settle my sons for their exams today, making them a nutritious breakfast and taking them to their places of examination, I confess I have felt a certain consolation in not having so great a need for a time. I've focused on making my mother's 80th birthday lunch special and it was very special; a great success. I've organized myself and the coming new semester. I've tried hard to settle myself and find my peace with a new phase of life; a new way of living.

Yet, I cannot deny that in three days I know that I will feel truly alive again. My sexual self is my true self. I'm very grateful that science will enable me to feel my true self for a very long to come.

She cared

I am currently half way through a novel that was chosen by a member of my new book group. I won't reveal the title and author just yet because once I finish reading it, I want to put some more extensive thoughts down here about the story.

For now, I want to ponder a little about the preoccupations of the author, a Swedish woman who is now living in New Zealand. She very clearly has an interest in memory - what our memories mean to us, how they might influence the rest of our lives and how we might repress them. She's interested in considering how we might wipe from our minds long stretches of time. "I don't remember my thirties," someone might say. At the same time, we remember minutes, even seconds of our lives in the greatest of detail. We play those important seconds over and over in our minds, sometimes remembering it differently from one time to the next; sometimes gaining a new level of insight about those few terribly important seconds.

The author is also preoccupied with those people who do not rush through their lives; who lead very quiet and sedentary lives; who are immersed in grief; who need to be alone to get over lost love. Interestingly,when two similarly hurting people find themselves in close quarters, they reveal themselves to one another. They desperately want to tell one another about what has gone on before this; what led them to this. The memories flow out just as water leaves a dyke that has incurred a hole. They cannot be stopped. They cannot be put back.

In the world of yoga, in the practices of mindfulness and meditation we are encouraged to be aware of this moment. There is only this moment, we are told. The past is the past and the future is not ours to worry about. I see the point and I benefit from the practice. Yet, it cannot be denied those extraordinary brains of ours carry our memories with us. They are stored and locked away and when the moment is right we retrieve them, consider and contemplate them and give them a value. This one is a good memory and this one is a bad memory.

It is said that we are more than clever enough to adapt memories to our own purposes. We can make them worse or make them better than they really were. Our mind is capable of forgetting what we choose to forget or remembering things differently to the way they occurred. Our memories are as we choose them to be. As is my want, I remember the times I was loved well.

Whilst my novel is a sad tale so far, I sense that these two women will heal each other and that there are lovely moments to come; that the time away from the busy world will do them much good. In fact, the writing was on the wall when the old lady knocked on the young woman's door, not having seen her for a few days. They have never spoken. It has been years since the old lady has made such a bold move in her long life but unsure if the woman has come to some harm, she feels a little life stirring in her old bones and she decides to check on her. This early chapter of the book is finished with two words that breathed life into the story and into the reader; hopefully any reader: "She cared." It is, after all, what makes us human.

Pool of peace

Consider this. He says something to you which you register to be rude. This makes you angry.

However, you understand that all emotions are transitory. You don't ignore the anger. You feel it as a physical feeling. You are aware of this feeling and you allow the anger in. It came as a result of his words but you are not attaching any sort of story to the words or to the event; merely feeling the emotion which will ultimately run its course, as all emotions do.

You are present in this moment. You feel anger. Yet, the anger hasn't taken you over. You feel the emotion in the sense you are aware of the emotion but you are also aware that you don't need to be overcome by the emotion. It doesn't necessarily have to alter your sense of well being.

Anger has come and you accept that it has come. As you sit with the anger you will find that you become aware that the anger is dissipating...

This is a revelation. Within the awareness of the anger, you have found peace.

When you truly embrace this concept, it is a bit like finding The Holy Grail. This is your inner world of calm; your pool of peace.

Picasso and sadism

I was going through a few drafts and located this writing of mine from some time ago. I'm not sure why I didn't publish it as it's rather interesting. Hope you agree:

 Francoise Gilot was unwilling to talk about her years with Picasso until Janet Hawley, an Australian journalist, mentions towards the end of her telephone conversation requesting an interview that Gilot had spoken at the 1984 Adelaide Festival Writers' Week. One thing led to another and she was ultimately granted some hours with her. The article she wrote about her time with Gilot fascinated me.

She was, she says, the only one of Picasso's women who was submissive. "He wanted me to be submissive, like the other women, but I was never submissive." "Why do you always contradict me?" he wanted to know of her. Her answer was, "Because we have a dialogue, not a monologue."

Gilot's take on women is refreshingly outspoken: "Many women who are very feminine have a masochistic streak to them, so it was perfect for Picasso with the women who came before me - the sadist with the masochist. But I was not a masochist or a sadist: I was not playing that game!"

Picasso boasted to Gilot apparently that he enjoyed making the people who loved him suffer. He told her that he was nasty to people he loved. She believes that he was testing their affection for him. "Every day he had to go into some combat and win."

Olga's intelligence shines with every remark she makes. She seems to have the most amazing insight that I feel I want to make note of her observations for myself in this record.

"Picasso's idea of love was mostly physical and possessing, not giving. At the same time, his good side was so intelligent that when you were with him...it was often so astonishing that you felt you were watching a miracle. That is what he gave. If you could appreciate that, that is what you got."

But her admiration for him did not cloud her awareness of his flaws.

"...he always had supreme anxiety, wanting to find a new truth...Picasso always felt alone, in peril..."

She recognizes too that she must not have been easy for him.

"Pablo painted a series of Middle Ages knights in armor, with thin waists on horseback - they're me. He complained I never took my armor off. "Yes, she replied. "I did not want to be killed."

But of all the comments she made in that interview and reported in Janet Hawley's wonderful article it was this one that resonated like a crystal clear bell:

"I knew Picasso's reputation with women and that moving in with him could be a catastrophe - but I decided it was a catastrophe I didn't want to miss."

Francoise Gilot may not have been a submissive or a masochist in the strict sense of the word, but she became entranced by Picasso and only left him ten years later when his behavior "became increasingly unfair and cruel". "Picasso was a god and my children and I were mere human beings." 

Dominant men, it seems to me so often are mercurial; not at all easy souls to be around and yet as women with submissive qualities, we gravitate towards such men. As difficult as they can be, some of us (and I certainly put myself in that category) yearn for their company.

'When God wants to punish you he answers your prayers.'

Being silly

I shall read to you in bed
You shall snuggle me instead
I shall feed you chicken curry
You must promise not to hurry
Along to your study
Or, to be a fuddy duddy.

Why do you look at me so aghast?
You know your annoyance can't last
 I drive you up a tree?
You can't be speaking of me?
You're counting: one, two, three...
Oh darlin', I do love thee.
 

The other side of trust

I have written about trust before. Many bloggers have talked about trust because when you talk about a power exchange relationship, trust is an essential ingredient, and that goes both ways. Today, I won't dwell on the merits or necessity or wisdom of that. It's obvious.

Instead, I want to play devil's advocate and suggest that trust is a necessary ingredient in any transaction. When Coca Cola tell us that their product is safe to consume regularly, we need to believe and trust that they are not telling us a lie. We need to trust that the authorities that monitor fizzy drinks check the contents of the drink and that we are not going to come to any harm if we drink their product on a regular basis. We have some responsibility for what goes into our bodies but we also trust that we won't be sold harmful products.

In a similar way, when a person wants to get something from us - our money, our agreement, our body - if he or she is a clever person, that person will want to seek our trust in them first. Trust is the first and most vital ingredient in any mind game a person would like to play on or with another person, so he or she isn't going to act in any way other than to gain our trust. In other words, the trust being sought could just be a tool to manipulate us.

Trust is not that pure and perfect word that we might like it to be. You can't love someone  without trust but you also can't manipulate someone without trust. Whether you can feel for another person or not, love and care for that person, or whether you are simply putting on a front to play a game with that person or have excitement with that person, the need for trust is paramount to get the person to the next stage of the relationship; whatever that 'relationship' might be.

Over at Remittance Girl, there is a wonderful conversation about the Twilight series and Fifty Shades of Grey. Apparently, Bella is a vacuous sort of character and there is debate about why readers want to read a story about such a woman. Is it escapism? I haven't read the books and it sounds like it would be torture for me to do so, which means I probably never will. But, it strikes me that women really do so still want a knight in shining armor; a man who they can trust; whose intentions are honorable and who will make their world shine brighter. Whether that's just escapism or whether nothing has really changed on this score, I really can't say for sure.

However, we must act with caution. We very much want to trust; to love and be loved. No matter what else is going on or isn't going on in our lives, I think a great many women want that. Maybe, they want it too desperately sometimes and they don't necessarily read the warning signs. If 'play' is what you are after, and what he is after too, then you are on the same page and can have trust in that. If you want so much more and he tries to pretend that he wants that too when all he really wants is to play with you for a while and hence seeks your trust in him to get what he wants, then someone is going to get hurt. While you are crying, he'll be onto the next gig.

Of course, being honest, another of those big and bold words of ours, doesn't always work in the suitor's favor, either. Look at poor Barnabus Collins in the movie, Dark Shadows and what happened to him when he told the woman/witch that he couldn't say he loved her because it wouldn't be true. She turned him into a vampire! So, maybe suitors seek a person's trust and use dishonesty because that suits their purposes and it is a lot easier than getting a person's wrath and scorn.

How, then, do you figure out who to trust? Today, I don't have the answer. I stumbled on a blog that has completely terrified me; a psychopath who has written of how he is able to manipulate people by earning their trust in him. It seems that those who have virtually no empathy are magnets to those with overwhelming empathy. He or she may be absolutely charming but underneath that facade is a most calculating sod getting his rocks off getting you to do what he/she wants. There are two completely different minds operating here and 'normal' rules of engagement don't apply.

What I am trying to say is that there is more to the word trust than you read about in blogs such as mine. Trust must be earned. Follow your instincts and your gut. Keep your wits about you. There are those who would seek to earn your trust to do you over.

Happy Mother's Day

I love my children vehemently and they love me back very well. Whilst Mother's Day is a commercial notion it is inevitable that on this day we mothers think about the love we give and receive from our children. A mother's love is a very fierce kind of love. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my children and whenever one of them is unwell it puts me off balance because when they hurt, I hurt.

I read an article just before written by a single mother which truly touched my heart and reminds me of something someone said to me ages ago: that we only really need one parent so long as they love us well. I encourage you to read the article and feel the same glow that I just experienced.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/13/fashion/modern-love-paralysis-of-the-heart.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1&seid=auto&smid=tw-nytimes

Happy Mother's Day!

Vampire loving

When all is said and done, and if I am to be completely honest here, I must state the very simple fact that without expression of the very real and raw part of me that needs to receive dominant energy and to be overwhelmed by that energy, I am but a shadow of myself. Sure, I provide for my family and function in society. Society and family sees the surface of me and that is a functional and relatively happy woman. Underneath, what they don't see, if the dominant energy is unavailable to me, is the real me who can feel a hunger that goes to the pit of her being.

"I am terribly sorry but I am so desperately thirsty."

These are the words (as best I remember them) that Johnny Depp's character, Barnabus Collins, says to the man whose blood he is about to drink when he is released from the coffin after two centuries. Whilst watching Dark Shadows yesterday, when I should have winced, I smiled, because I knew exactly how he felt.

To be this kinky is sometimes an awful burden. We want what we want and we want it with such greediness it can overcome us. It is as if we have tasted the best cake in the world and now that cake has been put behind glass. We can see it, smell it and imagine the taste. It obsesses us and try as we might to distract ourselves, we want another piece of that cake!  

For years and years, I didn't understand and wouldn't watch a vampire movie if you paid me. But, Johnny fed me a little yesterday and for that I am eternally grateful. 

The inner child

In my reading over the past few days about patriarchy, the term 'patriarchal voice' just didn't work for me. What I did was replace that term with another. I thought of this voice as a 'protective voice'. It's the voice that we go to for advice about what society deems we should do. This worked better for me. In taking advice from that voice, we can compromise parts of ourselves in that we may not set limits as to what is acceptable and healthy behaviour for us. Or, we may bury other aspects of our personality.

In many cases, I believe, we can lose the 'inner child'. This happens to both men and women as life takes on more and more responsibility and as we listen and take heed to societal pressures. It happens to all of us, in some measure.

During the time of my mentoring, my inner child was allowed free reign. Of course, there were rules and very specific ways of interacting. I knew my place and should I forget, the correction was immediate. For both of us, and I strongly believe this, we were two kids let loose in the candy shop. We were often joyous, child like; exuberant. Fun was very much close to the top of the agenda.

For ages, I wasn't really aware of this. I was too busy just letting out that part of my personality to think about it. I see very clearly now that what was so very special about the exchange (and there were other special things as well) was that we both allowed our inner child free reign.

It's a complex thing because I distinctly remember one time not wanting to do something and the child part of my psyche said so. He insisted that it must be done. There was no manipulation or strategic thinking involved when I replied, "But, wot if cindi sed pleeeeeez? He replied that it wouldn't matter. She still had to do as she was told. This floored me. Didn't little children get their way if they asked oh so nysssseli?? If they were adorable enough, didn't the person in charge say, "Oh, all right. Just. this. one. time." So, my inner child was allowed free reign so long as she understood the voice of authority.

When people listen too hard to their protective voice, they can become very serious. There are all sorts of reasons why they shouldn't do what they would like to do. Or, on the flip side, they want to please, if they are a pleaser, and they don't lay down some limits to protect themselves enough. I think this patriarchal voice that I have been reading about simply is the same thing that my psychologist spoke to me about. It was absolutely fine for me to express the very feminine side of my personality but I also needed to give expression to the side of my personality that wanted to achieve something in the real world for myself. I could be nurturing and doting and giving and submit so long as I put some boundaries around myself. It was okay for me to express all components of my personality. I didn't need to stick to just one entirely.

I look back on my mentoring sessions with great affection. It was my opportunity to let my inner child out in the sunshine to run free. Often gleeful, full of mirth and giggly it was a heady and happy time in my life; the loveliest of gifts.

The Patriarchal voice

The patriarchal voice is the voice that refers to the rules and philosophy of the patriarchal system. To keep it simple, when speaking of the patriarchal system we might otherwise say, 'It's a man's world'.

I think you can argue that part of this philosophy handed down from generation to generation is that femininity is inferior to masculinity. Sometimes, women decide to mimic men's behavior because they determine that to live in a man's world, they have to play by the rules and femininity won't get them where they want to go. Thus, they put restrictions on the feminine.

The patriarchal system is not just inclined to see femininity as inferior. It is as damaging to men as it is to women because under the patriarchal system, men must play by the rules as well. It is difficult for men to express their vulnerability and their emotions because it has been thought that's not expressing strength or leadership; those skills strongly supported by the patriarchal system.

This patriarchal voice is contained within us. We take those messages in from society and we carry them within us. This voice speaks to us and effects our decision making and our behavior, often in subliminal ways. I don't profess to understand the dynamic of this voice as it effects all decision making we do but I was struck by some statements in my friend's notes on this subject.

She writes that when the patriarchal voice is suppressed or disowned it continues to live on in our lives in a dis-empowering way. This energy can come to us from a person outside of ourselves who carries that patriarchal energy and may treat us badly. A boss or a partner may use that energy and the result could be judgmental statements, an authoritarian stance, a lack of feeling or respect for others or an inflexible point or view. Both men and women may have a patriarchal voice. Women can make harsh judgments about other women just as easily as a man can make a judgment of a woman. (think: witches of Salem, perhaps)

The inner patriarch is used to leading and directing and thus, my friend concludes, if we were to give away that energy to someone else, we lose ourselves. She gives the example of a client who was a people pleaser  to the point where she lost her 'self". Her patriarchal voice had been disowned and thus manifested itself in two men - her husband and her business partner - who belittled her, negated her actions and devalued what she brought to their lives.

You might start to get the feeling that I am struggling to put these thoughts together and come up with something that makes sense to me. I think what my new friend is getting at is that her patriarchal voice silenced her and allowed her husband and even her children to make decisions on her behalf that led to a great deal of pain. She became a victim to that patriarchal voice. Other people ruled her with a iron fist and she allowed that to happen.

My friend had a patriarchal voice within her that constantly reminded her of her inadequacies as a mother, a wife, a daughter. To become successful in the world she took on patriarchal energy but she lost her femininity. Eventually, she realized she could be feminine and still powerful. She discovered she could use her femininity powerfully.

I'm still cogitating about this but I can say with certainty that my goal is to use my femininity powerfully. My husband sometimes refer to a scale of femininity and I happen to be on the furthest end. I have been a victim to a voice within my head that feels it best to put other people's needs ahead of my own, often needlessly. I'm about to jump in the car to go to a screen writing lecture that I want to go to even though it is over the dinner hour - a big move in my life!

So, I've sometimes allowed myself to be the victim of a patriarchal kind of thinking in the sense that I have felt it my responsibility to ensure everyone's comfort and satisfaction ahead of my own, as if my needs were unimportant in comparison to theirs. I'm not sure if this is patriarchal thinking that I gathered from society at large or just that it seemed easier and better to put my needs secondary to others and thereby ensure the smooth running of life. I'm not entirely sure why I took that to extremes. It just seemed to work that way.

Embracing my femininity in the form of allowing my sexuality to be front and centre in my life is certainly empowering for me and to that end I have been brave. We live and learn.   As I read more of what my friend has written my thoughts may change. One thing I can say with certainty is that she is happy and at peace now finally and her thinking about this inner voice appears worthy of more exploration.

Voice dialogue

As a woman who has explored an inner voice - the voice of the uninhibited and wanting woman within me, known as cindi - I pricked up my ears when a new friend began to tell me about 'Voice dialogue'. This is a kind of therapy where the therapist asks to speak to any other parts of oneself. Typically, the therapist asks four questions. This is an opportunity for another aspect of one's personality to be given voice.

I take the information I was given with full seriousness and I intend to write more about 'voice dialogue' but there is a part of me that finds it amusing as well. I imagined my therapist of last year asking,

Who or what are you?

If cindi had felt safe with her to answer (and she most certainly did not feel safe to do so) she would have said something like,

"I'm a what, not a who. I'm just an object; a fuck toy; a play thing. I love sex and I like to be used as often as possible. I don't have any control because I love to be controlled and the hoos like to control me, so everybody gets what they want. Wheeeeee."

How are you feeling right now?

Very good. Happy. Ditzy. Ready for fun. Waiting quietly here for someone to come along and play with me. I don't have any worries and I don't have any other thoughts. My head is pretty empty actually. Objects are like that.

What caused you to feel that way?

Well, when cindi was given life, it made  everyone very happy. Before cindi arrived the girl was a worrier and she thought too much. cindi brought joy, peace and happiness. cindi is true to her needs and wants.

How can I help you?

Well, just njoy cindi and welcome her because is she fun loving, and a happi l'il thing. Hi hi therapist.

Do you think the therapist might have replied: "Hi hi, cindi!"

We can but dream.

Outcomes

In my fantasies I am often the helpless victim of those in charge of me. Sometimes, I am a willing captive. I have agreed to the union, expect to and do comply with the wishes of my husband (or who ever it is that I agreed to obey).

 Often, I am simply in a situation where other people are in charge and in control of me and what they say goes. If I am stupid enough to have issue with this, I only make matters worse on myself.

In real life, it hasn't gone this way at all. In real life I am expected to want whatever befalls me. More than that, I am expected to beg for it. It's all about training the girl to want all the things that a decent and well brought up girl wouldn't think to do or have.

It simply isn't enough to tell a girl that it is time she had a larger anal plug, for example. That is not the outcome desired at all - to have her tolerate; to have her challenged according to his dictates.  She has to be desperate for this new toy.

She has to perhaps mention that it would be very nice to have a new toy. She has to hope that the hint is taken. Of course, a mental note is made of this exchange of thoughts but a girl has to wait. It doesn't do to hurry these things. He has to be certain that she wants the new toy with all her heart.

Time goes by and the doll wonders if she will ever get her toy. She would not dare make this purchase herself. Goodness me, she isn't that dum dum. Eventually, she brings it up again. She really would love a new toy...

He tells the doll that he needs to know why she wants that. He tells her that he needs to know why she is so desperate.

He tells her he isn't sure...

She implores him. She pleads her case. She says the need is urgent. She doesn't know what she will do if she doesn't get that toy soon.

The conversation goes on and on...

Her begging becomes more and  more difficult to comprehend. Words are spilling out on top of the other and now she is completely worked up. It is now or never...

"pretti pretti pleeeeeeeeeeez"

Eventually, against his better judgement, in a moment of weakness and mercy he agrees to her request.

"Beri wel den. Da dum dum dolli mey hab da new pluggi"

"Ohhhhhh, tank u, tank u, tank u"

She wants exactly what he wanted her to have and now there are two happy campers.

Oh joy!

Containment

My husband and I went out for dinner last night; back to the same Italian restaurant that we went to after my very first spanking. I felt rather nostalgic about that and so wished that I was sitting on a sore bottom. Nevertheless, we had a lovely time. The food was just how we liked it, we polished off the bottle of pinot we brought along and we thoroughly enjoyed conversing together.

I had got dolled up and I think I looked good. I was in a new black dress. At some point during the meal he looked me over and said, "I suppose you are going to tell me that you've had that dress for ages." I laughed. It is a private joke of ours that I tend to say to him, "This? Oh, I have had this dress for years. You have already seen me in it a few times now." Instead, I said, "It's new. Do you like it?" And he said, "It looks lovely."

 I was also wearing a new pair of pearl ear rings - much more detailed than I would usually wear but a jeweler friend had showed them to me and I liked the idea of wearing something a bit different. "And, the ear rings are new, too. What do you think of them?" "I like them," he said. "Not too much?" "Well, they are a bit eccentric, but I like them on you." I think he must have liked the overall look because he took a few photographs of me before I left and I was pleased to see that I am starting to look my vibrant self again. I've got my condition under control and I definitely feel better.

In an ideal world, my husband would take a little more interest in my purchases. (My God, I hope he never reads this.) He'd sit on the bed and watch while I removed something from my wardrobe to make room for the new purchase. If I bought a new dress, then he'd watch while I chose an old dress to give away. This is a regimen that I really want to put into consistent practice. I'm not fantastic at this but I do try to achieve this goal. I certainly am happy to remove anything that doesn't work or that he doesn't like or that is just too old or outdated but I haven't managed to put this regimen in place immediately that I purchase something. It's something I continue to work on because the thought pleases me very much.

It's not easy for my husband to want to restrict me. If I ran about town purchasing expensive items all the time and was out of control he'd soon pull me up. But, I don't do that and he loves to see me look good. His feeling is that so long as I don't go overboard and as long as I am purchasing items that he likes, no harm is done. Not so long ago he said to me, "Why don't you wear that Spanish dress..." I said, "The one with layers? Darling, I bought that when I was 22. That bit the dust." He was incredulous how time how flown so fast! So, you see, he's not inclined to have me give things away. This minimalism is a project for me to do alone now and I am. It suits my dolly state of mind, you see.

There was another moment over dinner that was worthy of note. We had a nice Italian waitress but as my husband read the menu she looked straight at me and asked me what I wanted to order. This has got me into trouble before and I didn't want to be in trouble. My husband expects all orders to be given through him. Caught in a bind, I said to him, "May I please give her my order?" "Yes, you may," he said. This was quite unusual but I went ahead and told her I'd have the Scallopini au vino. If she noticed the dynamic between us, she didn't comment. The restaurant tends to be frequented by mostly older Europeans so she is probably ready for anything.

Recently, we went to dinner at our Club and when we entered the restaurant area the young male waiter looked directly at me. "We have a reservation," I said. When we were seated, I was told off. It's not my place to respond to waiters but I have felt compromised when they look to me for direction. Anyways, later on this rather cocky young waiter put the bill directly in front of me. My husband said, "He thinks you are in control of this relationship." I laughed. "Why on earth would he think that?" "Because of what you did earlier." Again, I was read the riot act about talking to waiters. And, I definitely did learn my lesson...won't be doing that again any time soon...

I must say, and there are no surprises here, that I enjoy feeling like a doll. I enjoy dressing up like a doll, being taken to dinner like a doll; treated like a doll. I like to be contained in any number of ways. I am very happy to be owned and very happy to be pleasing.

Praise

It has occurred to me more than once that women enjoy being in an power exchange arrangement for its consistent supply of praise. Okay, there might be struggle but an insightful Top will recognize that after the struggle must come praise.

It has also occurred to me that we are capable of  'snuffing off' praise. It is not that we don't love it but that sometimes praise is almost uncomfortable. We aren't letting the praise fully in. Imagine a scenario where a woman is told she looks pretty. Instead of allowing herself the enjoyment of that inner glow of her efforts being acknowledged she says, "Oh, this old thing. I've had this dress for years." or "My hair isn't quite right though..." Or, whatever. She is not letting the praise in and she isn't giving the giver of the praise the opportunity to see her enjoyment of receiving the praise.

I did something similar recently. All this reviewing of the arts I have been doing in my course has been a huge learning curve for me. In my course we've reviewed books, art, plays, film and even music. It's been wonderful learning but in all cases but one I've had feedback such as "Good, but you could have done this, or you could have contextualized more or I wasn't entirely sure if you enjoyed it..."

In only one module was the feedback quite glowing. In only one module was my work singled out as laudable. And, guess what? That's the feedback that I glossed over; barely registered. (I actually just read over the comments now to check that the tutor said what I thought he said and to take into my soul the praise he was offering.) In terms of the more negative (or I should say, constructive feedback because that is what it was) feedback, I took in every word of that - berated myself for not thinking of it first or having missed something and so on.

I think this is the tendency of the submissive woman. On some level, she isn't entirely sure of herself and even when she gets praise she isn't entirely sure she deserves it or if it is genuine or even if it is appropriate for her to accept the praise.

My boss of a thousand years ago used to say that he didn't praise me because he thought it would go to my head. I heard how he felt about my work and efforts through other people but very rarely did I hear it from him. Even with my mentor, it was another person who knew him who told me how he felt about my efforts and progress more so than directly through him. And, of course, I took the reprimands and his not being happy with me about something much more seriously than I ever took his praise. It's a bit like getting Honours for a subject, let's say 90%, and instead of saying 'Yay,I got a really high score', we say 'I feel like I failed because I missed 10 marks and that's dumb'.

In group meditation class once we were asked to make an effort that week to really accept any praise or compliments that came our way and to take a moment to let that praise in; to be open to it and to acknowledge it. I think that's definitely worth a try.

The fitness of things

To set the scene, I was driving and my youngest son was in the passenger seat beside me. He was biting into his bacon and egg muffin. The radio was on; not on my usual channel because my daughter had borrowed the car and naturally she changed the radio channel. Although trained in classical music to a high standard, she loathes my choice of music.

On any other day, my son and I would have been listening to the guest weather and some calming and refined classical music. Today, we were listening to a panel of people with strong, Aussie voices discuss whether Seal was cool or a sleaze. Apparently, this all came about because he kissed Ricky Lee on the show last night (his "mentor" on our version of 'The Voice') at an inappropriate time. After the panel all gave their thoughts on the matter, they turned it over to callers, some of whom were a little "grossed out" and others who thought he was "totally cool".

I try not to talk on the way to school. The young man is usually chowing down on some breakfast and unless we need to talk we often don't say much. Today, he looked up from his English muffin to say,

"Is this what people really care about? Is it that important to them who kissed who at what time and for how long and in what manner? Who are these people?"

For a young man who is immersed completely in a variety of activities and who enjoys 'The Voice', this sort of public discussion of a minute detail as to what a person did at a given moment is not worthy of discussion in the media.

Also, the school he attends works hard at fostering a spirit of co-operation and increasing empathic skills through an almost limitless array of activities and opportunities for growth, so pillory of someone, passing judgment by the media if you will, without a very good reason goes against what he thinks is right.

Personally, I don't like this sort of thing either. Why should anyone have to wake up and overhear people talking about him like that just because he is on a television show? What ever happened to the 'fitness of things'?