Saturday, December 28, 2013

When I'm happy

I have been noticing something about myself,  which is a good thing in itself. There is no value in going about living one's life oblivious to things. Noticing things is a good thing. I've noticed that when I feel unhappy or that something isn't right, I dwell on it and when I am feeling happy I don't dwell on that happiness, almost as if to dwell on it is to jinx it in some way, or as if I am 'entitled' to feel this way and not any other way, or as if it is my 'default' position and doesn't need to be noticed. This isn't right.

I am happy. I am happy for various reasons but most of all I am happy to be giving and receiving love in my life. I am happy to feel content with my life (regardless of the fact that things aren't 'perfect'). I'm happy to have time to myself after such a hectic festive holiday period. Time to myself is vital to my happiness. There is no way I can't 'notice' this. Time writing here is part of that private time that I covet.

I know when I am happy and in tune with my inner being. When I feel like this I settle into my husband's body in bed. Sure, "sooner or later you sleep in your own space" but I spend part of the nights locked in my husband's arms. That the true test of the pudding for me, the desire to connect; to feel 'at one'; to know where and to whom I belong.

I am happy when we are happy. That's worth noticing.

Friday, December 27, 2013


Sub-consciously many of us are working on some sort of negative feeling (e.g. sense of abandonment) from our past, perhaps attached to it, playing it out over and over until we reach some sort of consciousness of what is happening; perhaps finding some sort of resolution of that feeling.

If you consider my fantasy life, there isn't much doubt about the fact that it is associated with a feeling of helplessness. The fantasy this morning was a very typical scenario for me. Disobedience had ensued and when the matter was brought to my "owner's" attention, he made the necessary arrangements for my correction.

Although he had to rush off to a meeting (in my fantasies my "owner" is practically always a busy man who avails himself of a woman in the house to instigate some discipline for me on his behalf), the housekeeper was given instructions to see that I was paddled very soundly, such that sitting would be uncomfortable for the rest of the week. Then, I was to sit on my meditation cushion facing a wall, so as not to be distracted. I was to sit my beaten backside directly on the cushion and to think about my behavior, until my owner returned when we would discuss the matter.

To put it another way, I am at the mercy of other people in my fantasy life and subject to their rules and regulations. I am contained quite tightly and many situations taken for granted by most people are privileges to me. I am acutely aware that I am owned, that I am no more or less than property, and that whenever it should be deemed appropriate, required or enjoyed, I am corporeally disciplined.

It usually goes much further than a good thrashing. Certainly, intense anal training is part of my fantasy life and so too is intense use of my body; my holes. It is not at all uncommon for me to be restrained in ways where my holes are made available for prolonged use, sometimes by more (many more?) men than just my owner (as per his requirements of me). It's a challenging life I lead in my fantasies and the more challenge I face, the more I get off. Used and degraded intensely in a fantasy rolling through my head, my body may be covered in a coat of sweat, because the sort of smut that enters my mind, turns on my body in a very profound and deeply arousing way.

Some psychologists may say that a person like me is locked in a cycle of helplessness; that I am "attached" to that feeling, and that although I don't want to feel helpless in real life, in my mind I am playing the feeling out over and over again, until I can find a way to overcome that feeling of helplessness and move on with my life.

I am aware of this possible situation and I don't reject it. For several years now, via this online journal and other strategies, I have tried to bring my subconscious mind into my conscious awareness. I realize that I have, at times, felt very helpless and subject to the vagaries of life's winds blowing me about and rendering me helpless.

The awareness has been a great help to me. Conscious now of the helplessness cycle I'm also conscious of the ways that this feeling has held me back in life. This is tremendously helpful because it is opening doors in my mind to new possibilities. I am beginning to feel much more a creator of my own life and future rather than subject to the decisions of other people and 'destiny'. I feel more in control of my own life and the power of my own mind. I feel much more hopeful and much less helpless.

However, the fantasy life continues. Awareness has done absolutely nothing to alter the extreme arousal I experience when I fantasize or experience this helplessness in a scene played out in the bedroom. The more contained I am, the more helpless I feel and the more the other person is in control, the more intense my arousal.

I remain unconvinced that if I were to make wads of money or become an overnight creative success, and/or to have absolutely no reason to feel helpless in any way in my real life, that I would cease to have these fantasies. These fantasies have now been with me for over 50 years. My arousal from them continues to grow. My desire to feel helpless in such scenarios is very real. When they are acted out I feel a sense of relief; satisfaction; elevation of spirit and intense happiness.

It is interesting to me that although I feel less and less helpless in real life that my inner life still holds onto and covets feelings of helplessness. These men (and women by extension) are sometimes owners who have my best interests at heart (sort of) but they are often mean and nasty Headmaster types who see it as their role to train young women to obey men; to train them to understand their place and purpose; to service men. It is not all beer and skittles. It is not all well intentioned at all.

There is my real life and my conscious understanding that it is my right and my responsibility to be all that I can be in this life at the same time as my fantasy life makes all such thoughts void. My goodness, in my fantasy life I'm there to serve; to obey; to do exactly as told and only that. How profound it is (and how confusing at times) that I'm never more happy than in those minutes, hours and days after a good hiding; extensive use of my body; containment of my mind; reminder of my 'true purpose'. I never said it wasn't complicated!   

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Merry (kinky) Christmas

The shopping was done, the Christmas Eve dinner cooked and eaten when I decided to have a sneak peak at my emails before finalizing the wrapping of presents this evening. Lo and behold, what did I find but an email from my friend Abel Jenkins alerting to me the fact that I had won an award! I could not have been more surprised, nor more honored to read Abel's very generous and glowing remarks. Thank you, most sincerely, my friend. My writing here is very much a labor of love and I am thrilled you are enjoying it.

I know it is traditional at this time to wish readers a very Merry Christmas and I do, of course, hope that your day is filled with love and happiness. However, I can't resist also taking this opportunity to share how very possible it is to include kinkiness into a very busy festive season.

It has been a very hectic period of time for me. Like so many mothers, the bulk of the responsibility for a happy Christmas for family members falls on my shoulders and there does come a moment when Christmas can seem more work than joy. It's not that I don't enjoy Christmas, it's that mothers do eventually tire.

I had no more than a few minutes chat with a close friend this morning before I needed to head out to the nail salon for the first appointment of their busy day. A girl can go without much rest during stressful periods of time, but a girl can't go without her fortnightly trip to the nail salon. Let me assure of this.

My friend knows that I need to express my kinky side very regularly or else I tend to run down, so I shared with him, knowing that he would understand, that as I awoke I had some lovely contained thoughts to start my day - nothing severe, but contained in my thoughts was I, nonetheless.

"Relish in it," he replied, an acknowledgement from him, yet again, that the whole idea was to enjoy the expression of my true self.

This exchange isn't a one-way street by any means and I also wanted to remind him to relax and enjoy his kinky thoughts, a few moments of interlude in his busy work day. What would he like for Christmas, I asked. Hmmm, he wasn't sure.

"A dolly for the day? Someone to tend to his every need?" I suggested.

Oh yes, he thought that would be yummy. I could almost hear him already making plans.

I explained that I was off to the nail salon and he voiced his expectation that I would go plugged. The thought had occurred to me, actually. I know what soothes me and aids me in busy periods when I don't have much time to myself. However, I wasn't sure that I wanted to challenge myself too far. I voiced (typed) that sentiment and then he voiced (typed) his.

Of course, he was quite right. I need to be challenged. Challenge enables me to be my true, kinky self - to be aware of that side of me no matter what else I am doing. Challenges contains my submissive nature in a way that elevates my spirit and puts a smile on my face in the toughest Christmas shopping predicament.

To the world at large it looked like I was reveling in preparing for Christmas; peaceful and serene. To those here, there is more to the story, as you would know. Expressing my submissive side, even in this private way, enables me to revel in nearly all experiences. If I were wearing a sign it might say this.

"My name is Vesta and I am a woman with a submissive nature. To express my nature makes me blissfully happy. Right now, even though you can't see,  I'm being contained and challenged. I love every minute of it."

Have a very happy Christmas. Do be nice, but don't forget to be naughty.

Friday, December 20, 2013

To you and all mankind

For whatever reason, the people of this city have been finding difficulty in getting into the Christmas spirit. I've heard this sentiment wherever I go and possibly it relates to our unseasonal weather. I was actually hosting my book club's Christmas dinner on the evening of my youngest son Carol's service wherein he sings in the choir and I do wonder if missing that early season Christmas activity affected my interest in the festive season this year.  I am sure that is so, in fact, because various get-togethers with people, Christmas shopping and gift buying has done little to assist my sense of obligation rather than joy in the festive season. I'm tired and it can show, like right now.

As I prepare for two large gatherings at my home in the next few days, this early evening found me vacuuming, taking along a dust cloth as I went, to clean various surfaces. I reached a point where I felt it was time for a glass of wine, as you do. I turned on the television to find Rick Stein celebrating a Cornish Christmas. It was fine. There was lots of fancy food, but it didn't 'strut my stuff' until the very end of the program when, with wine glasses in hand, about a dozen men got up to sing. I distinctly remember the words "to you and all mankind". It struck a chord, finally, because the truth is that Christmas isn't just about family but about having a sense of community as well. In many ways, for me, Christmas is about music making.

I was reminded of the importance of music in our lives at an event early in December. Two key educators left my sons' school at this time after many decades of service to a fine school and a huge cocktail part was held in their honor in the main hall, a sacrosanct place for both of them. This is where they had spoken in thousands of assemblies of the whole senior school. This is where their fondest memories were laid down.

 For different reasons I approached them both, when I could find a private quiet moment with them, and wished them well for their retirement. They had had an impact on my sons' lives and I wanted to share that with them. My youngest son had just sung a solo as part of a small choir, a gift to them, a favorite song. Interestingly both men said to me that they regretted in their final tribute, just said, that they had forgotten to mention the singing at school; how much they had enjoyed that, and how integral the singing was to the school, whether that was the House Choral competition, singing in daily assemblies, or all the choirs of boys that sang at concerts throughout the year. They both personally sought out my son to thank him for giving up his Friday evening to be part of their farewell evening.

In a few evenings time I will ask my husband to accompany me to the local Church and participate in the midnight service where we will both sing many carols. That's when I will feel the great gift of Christmas; that vibrant sense of community that occurs when strangers gather to celebrate the joy of Christmas.

Yes, Christmas is about family but it is about so much more than family. It's about recognizing that we are part of a much larger family; mankind. There's nothing wrong with exchanging gifts or partaking in delicious food, but the real pleasure comes in understanding and rejoicing in the fact that as members of mankind we care for one another.

May music be a part of your Christmas. May there be peace, love and laughter in your life - to you and all mankind.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

My rights to be dominated

There's no doubt that some of us have been slow to recognize and embrace the particular way we want to live. Now that I know what it feels like to live in that way - my version of "that way" - doing without isn't an option. I've actually tried that several times in various ways and it's no good for me. Perhaps I've reached an age where I'm feisty in that way. I can feel the clock ticking and I'm not prepared to waste any more time. I'm not prepared to negotiate or to do without. I'm staking my claim and I'm not giving it up. I'm possessive of my rights to be dominated.

I don't regret, for one single second, bringing up my family in the way that I did. It has nurtured that side of me and if I didn't have that in my life it would be just as sad for me as if my kinky side was not embraced. I always wanted children. I always wanted to be a mother.

That said, I'm ready for time alone, and for time alone with my husband. Once we sorted things out, that I needed his dominance and once he recognized that I wasn't kidding around about that, that it was a non-negotiable in my life, things were sweet this past weekend. Our time together without fear of being heard, seen or interrupted in any way was a lifeline for me and there is no doubt in my mind that we are ready to move on now; ready for our children to be more independent and to do without so much of our presence. To that end, we're teaching them those skills they haven't been enthralled about taking on - ironing a shirt, loading a dishwasher, making a meal.

In fact, we did have oysters. I saw the oysters on Facebook and after our first love-making/beating session I asked if he might like some oysters for dinner, and then some fresh salmon and salad. He came home bearing the goods, we devoured them with relish along with most of a bottle of chardonnay and promptly fell asleep on the couch. Somehow we transferred ourselves to bed and slept the night through blissfully.

I simply can't remember the last time we made love twice in a 24 hour period. (Okay, we did a few weekends ago, but it was ages and ages before that.) It's been one of my big regrets because, for us, sex is sweeter and more intense the second time around. So, it was a blessing when he took control the next morning. I'm amazed at times how he can appear to be able to live without dominating me sexually and then, when he gets around to it, do such a sterling job of it. He is as demanding of me as if I were a relative stranger. I'm as in my zone as if I were with the most stern of dominant men. It's not until he's twisted this and pulled that;  made me come on demand and with huge intensity for a long time; thrown my body around and insist he is serviced in various ways that I eventually beg him for some respite, "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeese, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese, may cindi rest a bit, Owner?"

He loves it. He loves his own arousal. He loves to see me so satiated and relaxed. He adores the smile that comes over my face; a smile that I simply couldn't control if I wanted. Maybe we have to leave the family home to achieve these heady highs - for it to be just 'us'. I remember a time in Tuscany when we traveled to our 'sweet power exchange spot' and it wasn't until we had dinner with some other guests that it became apparent we'd been overheard. I was a little embarrassed but the husband assured us he'd enjoyed every moment of it; it had delighted him that people our age could get it off in quite that way. "Just wow," he exclaimed, clearly envious.

It can be difficult to 'let go' of the mother and father persona around the children. They are not small any more but who wants to hear one's mother groaning and screaming; a strap or cane being wielded against what is so obviously bare skin? Which child wants to even hear a mother's or father's cries of ecstasy and release? Certainly, my children are not interested in over hearing these sorts of activities and they have made that clear. It's confronting for them and for us.

The answer lies, it would seem, in finding more reasons to travel down to the holiday house for a couple of nights. And, the oysters are particularly fresh down there.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Kinkiness is not a choice

I was beside my sister-in-law in her car some years ago when she made the comment that she wished she was 'straight'; that being gay had caused her many problems in her life, but she was who she was. That was all there was to that.

It was a piece of 'evidence' for me that being gay was not a choice because growing up I'd heard the opinion voiced many times over that gay people were often choosing to be gay. My sister-in-law's sexuality was never an issue for me, though it was cause for concern in her own family. I wonder if, subliminally, I related to her sentiments. It was before I had comes to terms with my own sexuality really but I still understood what she was saying.

I sometimes do have the thought that it would be easier to be non-kinky. I had it this morning. I happened to be on Facebook and a friend had posted a photograph of her oysters and champagne happily sitting on a table on the veranda of her holiday home waiting to be devoured. I thought, 'Wouldn't it be easy to be like her. I could get my kicks out of things like that and never have to visit the dark side again. Life would be one long party and I could be frivolous and think everything was "gorgeous"'.

However, that's not me. I didn't choose to be kinky, but I am. My spirit flies free when I am contained, instructed, corrected, spanked and used. When I am not particularly happy the reason is that this didn't happen any time recently. Sure, there are other reasons why I might be out of sorts with my world but so long as I have such experiences, I can cope. Life doesn't get me down for long so long as my submissive nature can soar.

My husband and I went away this weekend on our own and that has been a very rare thing for us, especially this year. It should have been lovely from the outset but the truth is that there were some tense moments. "Oh boy, you really need a fuck!" he said to me yesterday when my responses weren't too flash.

This morning he said, "Let's work in the garden for the first part of the day and if you're a good girl I'll fuck you in the afternoon." "Okay," I replied.

At lunch time it was time and he led me into the bedroom. He caressed me and blindfolded me; put my mouth gag in place. I started to relax. "Feeling better?" he asked. I nodded I did. "Now be a good girl and bend over the pillow for your spanking." Bimbo didn't hesitate.

He was using a paddle and he'd been using it for some time when he said that if I wanted more all I had to do was raise my bottom. No response. If I wanted to do that I could do that any time up until the count of 10. I raised my ass at 5. "Oh, you are hungry today."

More pain. More struggle. Some caressing. He repeated the instruction. Bimbo panted through to the count of 8 and raised her ass again. "Oh, you really are a little pain slut, aren't you?!" he said.

This time he thrashed. Ten hard and fast whacks of the paddle that had me screaming through the gag.

Part of him likes to think he hasn't been subverted; that he does it for me. But, he was aroused by the activity. There is no doubt about it, because after a long lovemaking session he bellowed like a bull and filled me with his semen; something that he hasn't done in a while. It pleased him and relaxed him in full measure.

I am sitting here now on a bruised and mark ass and loving every minute of it. I feel my old self. I feel...happy. Yes, the oysters and the champagne and the freshly mowed, immaculate looking lawn at the oh so perfect holiday house looked inviting, but I wouldn't trade it for satiation of my kink on any day. It's that important to me. 

Monday, December 9, 2013

To Top or to Dominate?

I'm firmly convinced that our behaviors are largely driven by forces outside of our control. Things happen, or don't happen, early in life. Sub-consciously we process these words and events in such a way that we are driven to want certain outcomes.

Sometime later, along comes a girl or a boy, we fall in love, and they become a character in a play that has already been written. Modifications can be made to the script to allow for this extra character, even a main character such as this partner comes to be, but the essence of the script doesn't change. It's written, you see. The main ideas are there and they are the thrust of the play.

Complications ensue when this boy or girl has ideas of his or her own, as they invariably do. This boy or girl is also driven by forces that are ordained according to events that occurred before they met.

Major issues will ensue only if there are serious obstacles put in the path of the other in achieving their prescribed outcomes, that interfere with the integral and motivating ideas of the other character's script for their life. The drama in their lives will be profoundly magnified if one or the other interferes with the overall plan. Regardless of the depth of love felt, previous early experiences demand that they must have their way. Feelings of love often come second to this inner drive almost completely outside of their control.

There is plenty of relationship advice out there based on good research that tells us that it is important to communicate one's needs to the other. But, what if 'the other' doesn't hear, not because you weren't clear but because it interferes with their version of the way the play should unfold? What if the scripts can't be blended or amalgamated satisfactorily? What if key elements of your story must be left out to satisfy the other's version of how it must be?

I've long contemplated the difference of the words 'Top' and 'Dominant'. Whilst there is no dictionary type definition for either word, this early morning I thought of these words as perhaps the best way I could describe the thoughts in my head right now. Here goes.

In every relationship, in some way or in some context, there is one who leads or is stronger than the other. I'm not talking consensual power exchange here specifically. I'm talking life. One person tends to be more capable in/desiring of/inclined to/demanding leadership. Either the other person agrees to this dynamic or else there is some level of negotiation and/or conflict.

Some people have submissive personalities. They are less needing of the driver's seat and either allow, agree to or want the other to be the dominant partner. This doesn't mean that they don't have the same impulses as everybody else; that they are not working towards certain outcomes. It does mean that they are more likely than most to give up on those outcomes or give into the other's drive for certain outcomes. Not without some sadness, they strive to let go of their own ordained outcomes and to see the world through the eyes of the other, the Dominant.

Whilst this is a wild generalization, in my mind at this moment it is the "Dominant" that will allow this and the "Top" that wouldn't hear of it. I say this because the word "Top" implies to me that he/she is working towards achieving the other's prescribed outcomes as much as or even more than his or her own outcomes.

It sometimes seems to me that the dominant (man) is saying to the other, "Come with me. I know the way. Here's what to do. Just follow along after me because I know what's best for you." Whereas the Top is more likely to say, "I'm listening to you carefully. I'm intensely interested in hearing who you really are. I want you to achieve your goals and I'm here to ensure you do reach those goals. It might be pretty tough at times but I have your best interests at heart, sweetheart, so just be a good girl and do as you're told."

I know, in a way, that's not a fair depiction but what I am trying to say is that dominant people often assume far too much. They assume they know it all and that their way is best, but are they really meaning this -  that their script is so ultra important to them that your script has to be shelved?

To this end, equality within the relationship is vital to a power exchange dynamic. We both come to the relationship with scripts that are terribly important to us, for whatever reasons, and it isn't going to be fair for one script to be virtually unchanged whilst the other script has red ink throughout it. Unless a dominant person is generous of spirit with the other's life script, he's not really 'topping' at all but rather demanding that his way is right.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

D/s and the silly season

At this time of the year, 'real life' can take precedence over our inner lives. There are lunches and cocktail parties, gatherings with work colleagues, family and friends. Those submissive/serving activities that we do on a regular basis at other times of the year can be given a back seat. For me, this is not a good idea.

As December heats up, figuratively and literally, my restless and busy mind can go into overdrive. This can mean that even when exhausted at the end of a long day, perhaps hosting a dinner or working at the textbook exchange all day, or whatever, that I can't sleep well and that the next day turns into one more long list of things to do. Whilst it is meant to be the joyful season, I can find myself not enjoying all this activity and craving some time to myself, which I sometimes simply can't find.

This situation can spiral out of control for me very quickly for a couple of reasons. If one isn't doing what one has agreed to do, the dynamic can feel as if it is 'broken' in some way. Our minds are trained to think of obedience as right and good and so when one isn't obeying, one feels aberrant and out of control; not a good look.

If one isn't obeying, doing those things that are well proven to yield excellent results, then one can't expect excellent results. The restless mind returns. The sense of being  not contained flourishes. It's harmful behavior, much like it would be to not brush one's teeth daily and proficiently, or to not drink water daily and in the required amounts.

If one doesn't do what is known to work then it's a form of disrespect not only to the Dominant but also to oneself. In the space of 24 hours (24 x 60 minutes) can one be serious that 20 minutes a day cannot be found? It's totally erroneous thinking on my part that I am not worthy of that amount of time to myself. Why would I think such a thing?

So, I think, even though we are very busy - frantic - that our rituals and regimens must stay in place during the holiday season. In fact, more than most other times of the year, it is quite vital that we uphold them.

This leads me to the whole business of saying "sorry" and let's get real. In a long standing relationship where two people care for one another there are going to be slip ups. Why a person 'slips up' can be complicated but chances are quite good that a girl (like me) is looking for a correction; to be reined in; contained. Figuring out who is to "blame" can be a quite fruitless task. It happened. Getting back on track is what matters. Of course, behaviors have consequences and maybe she has to catch up on her tasks, or some other correction. I'd imagine that's all fine, so long as the dynamic is restored.

I can't stress this point enough. A girl who has wandered off the track really needs to simply get back on the track and move forward in the right direction. Veering off into the forest will only make her feel (and be) lost. What possible point is there to worrying about who is to blame? Recognize the importance of the dynamic (that the dominant is in charge and that the submissive does what the dominant says), the importance of adhering to the rules and routines of the dynamic and drive on. "To err is human, to forgive, divine."

So often a lack of success in life boils down to not creating good habits. The D/s dynamic can be an outstanding tool for creating good habits in all avenues of life and for both people. The most important thing, I believe, is the dynamic itself, assuming it's a good and worthy relationship between those people. We didn't set it up this way on a whim. We do it because we want it, because it works better than any other dynamic and because it fulfills us both.

P.S. The photograph is for Siranneal - a touch of inspiration for those chaps who like the visual rather the words.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Obedience as it relates to arousal

Life is stranger than fiction. If I needed to make the connections between the events of the recent past with the events of the weekend I'd be hard pressed to do so. Why was this weekend so vastly different from the period of time before it?

Well, I'd expressed my dissatisfaction, loud and clear. And, not that long after that, he'd express some dissatisfaction of my behavior loud and clear as well. We'd both been given reason to pause and reflect and we'd both done that. Without getting too close and personal what I am saying is that there had been a shift in both of our states of mind as to possible solutions to our personal dilemma.

He took the initiative. Well, we had a chat on the couch first, when he got home from a dinner Thursday night and I kissed him goodnight. He came to bed sometime after I was asleep. He had been watching some World Movie about a woman and two men, was ravenous, and that got the ball rolling.

From there, there were several encounters over the weekend, each one bringing us closer together, each one relaxing me further and further. He wanted service and I was happy to give him the service he required. The details aren't for public consumption but what I will say is that I was aware of how spectacularly easy it was for me to obey every command and to take whatever he chose to give me. Obedience wasn't so much easy really as completely comfortable; compliance felt normal; right; as things should be in my life. I radiated in being obedient. It felt an enormous relief to be tested in these ways.

Later, as we were laying in one another's arms, after one of those 'after sex' naps that take you into a very deep sleep, he said to me, "You must never let another man know of your abilities to comply; what you can take. It would be dangerous. There's nothing you can't do; no place a man can't take you."

I thought about this a while. I was aware of this deep all body and mind erogenous zone for me; this great comfort I took in being nothing more than a fucktoy; this relief at expressing this part of me.

"I don't see how BDSM can happen with someone you don't know well. I can't travel to these places if I don't trust. It takes enormous trust."

"Oh, I think some girls go there, or try to go there, even with men who aren't trustworthy. That's what gets them into trouble."

I'm sure he's right, but I can't imagine it myself. I can't envisage being able to 'let go' with someone you don't love; maybe someone with whom you have developed a deep bond. I'm not entirely sure. I've had so few partners in my life. I know my desire to 'belong' is likely to be an issue in such a scenario. I know myself too well to believe that I can give that much to a man who doesn't think of me as 'his' - all pure speculation anyway.

I've heard of some people who are able to obey - to do things that don't turn them on; day after day. There isn't necessarily arousal in it for them; or at least, certainly not all of the time. Well, there is duty, isn't there? I have to go now and sort out the kitchen and the laundry and I am not getting any arousal out of the thought of doing that. I just know I'll be pleased when it is done and I can move onto something more fun.

Being a man's 'submissive' is like that - we aren't going to like all the things we have to do and we aren't going to be aroused by obeying all the time. Sometimes, we do it because we have to; enough said.

However, I'm the greedy sort. "It isn't always about arousal, bimbo" I'm told, from time to time. The thing is a direct command does arouse me. In the bedroom especially I do what I'm told instantly; I take what I'm given, without a shred of complaint. It is profoundly arousing to me. I give but, oh boy, do I receive!

It's the inability to partake in this 'give and take' that has so ailed me this year. As I said before, something had to give and it delights me to say that he did indeed give, and take.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

How words arouse

I went to see the psychologist yesterday, the one that I saw a few years ago. I was more open with her. I told her my issues and I told her that I knew myself to be a submissive requiring a loving Dominant. I explained to her that I had expressed my needs and my sorrows at not having my needs met to my husband but that he seemed not to be able to take the message in; as if he hadn't heard or could not process the words, or as if it was outside his power to assist me.

She is always very honest with me and she told me that there was nothing more that she could do for me; that the cognitive therapy had resulted in me being an assertive woman who knew how to take care of myself; how to talk back to my negative thoughts, to express what I needed; to carve out some time in my life for myself. She praised me for nearly having finished the M.A. and she reminded me that I would have that qualification to take with me into the future - for further study or employment. She told me that I looked wonderful; that she loved the longer hair and that I looked well.

She made a recommendation. On the strength of the path opening up for my husband to receive some medical treatment, she asked if he would agree to couple's counseling. I said I thought so. She told me she had the perfect person for this; someone who specialized in sexual issues and with whom I could be entirely open.

"The thing is" she said to me, "that your husband needs to hear the sort of pain you are in. In therapy together he will see it, really for the first time; how vital this is to your happiness."

I'm exploring this path. Yesterday, when I read her site and sent a message I felt full of forward momentum, but this morning my mind is completely scattered. Okay, I've done a run to the station, taken my son to his last exam for the year, welcomed him home and had a chat, done some gardening, sorted the bedroom and the kitchen but I feel so unfocused - pushing myself to move on rather than sit and stare.

I read this story and I was aware of my breathing altering; of something feeding my soul. The simple and direct instructions, his calling her "lass"; the palpabe desire to be taken that emanated through the story. There was nothing else to do. I went to my bedroom and lay face down on the bed, brought my hands down and pleasured myself to the following images in my head -

I live with a man. Who this man is exactly I cannot say. He may be someone to have I have been sent to be taught how to behave or he may be my Owner. It's just one scene. I can't be at all sure. He is sitting in his special chair by the fire. These men in my fantasies so often are sitting in a chair by the fire, reading. I come in, knowing that it is the right time to do so and he tells me to lift my skirt and to sit my bare bottom on the cushion at his heel. It's a meditation sort of cushion and I'm perfectly comfortable for long periods of time, so long as my knees are wide in front of me.

It's the time of the week when I receive my weekly correction. It's not because I've been bad. It's because it is good for me and helps me to know my place. But, he's not ready yet and the correction takes place when it suits him, not me.

I sit there quietly with my eyes closed and I can hear the flames dance in the fireplace and every now and then I hear a page of his book turn. I've learned patience and I'm calm as I prepare my mind to take pain.

Eventually, maybe half an hour later, but I can't be at all sure of the time passed, I hear the book close and I can feel that he has stood.

"Into position lass." (See how my mind works. I loved RG's use of the word "lass". I had to try it out right away and soon realized it aroused me to the core.)

I stand slowly and find my feet. I'm always a little unstable for a few moments from sitting on the meditation cushion in the meditative stance. I make my way to the wooden bench designed for the purpose of correction, raise my skirt and bend over, holding on tight immediately to the bar on the front of the bench, about a foot from the floor.

He canes soundly. It seems to be important to him that I am challenged and I suspect he likes to hear my whimpers and grunts. When he stops, 25 strokes later, I feel relief it is over but radiate in the glow of my backside. There's nothing quite like a stinging bottom to feel completely alive.

He holds my downturned head firmly with his right palm.

"Good lass. Well done."

As much as I would love to have him plunge inside me and put out the fire, I know he won't. Rather, he tells me to prepare for bed and just as I am finished he gestures for me to bend over. He fills my ass with the large plug, binds my wrist with a cord and tucks me into bed.

"Off to sleep. Right now. There's a good lass."

He turns off the light and closes the door, leaving me to wallow in a deep sense of complete care; the luckiest girl in the world.

Now that I have got that out of my system, I have a rough shot at making this a productive day!

Monday, November 25, 2013


A week ago I delivered an ultimatum to my husband - either he pursue some further assistance for himself and make efforts to explore his condition psychologically, rather than just from a bodily perspective, or else we'd have to think about whether our paths might need to diverse in the future. I asked him, quite simply, to do it for me. Even if he didn't believe there was a single benefit to be had by exploring his mind for answers, I wanted him to do it for me.

He responded to that and at this stage he has agreed to pursue it immediately. That is to say, we've had conversations in the past where he agreed to do this but he did not follow through. In other words, it was a hollow promise. So, this time I made the appointment and gave him the necessary information.

What we are dealing with is his overall malaise but also we are dealing with the fact that I have a kink and he does not. After so long, once the Pandora's box was opened it was never going to satisfactorily close, and my kink remains. I don't anticipate that it will ever go away. I crave to be lovingly dominated. I crave for my whole self to be present in my life, day by day.

Life without sex as I'd like it to be is hard. Life with very little sexual activity at all, as if we are living together as very good friends, borders on insufferable for me. I know that millions of couples end up this way somewhat satisfactorily, but it is something I am finding too hard to bear.

I've been to my doctor to talk about this situation and he's referred me back to my psychologist whom I will see tomorrow. I plan to be much more direct with her about who I am and what I need in my life. I will not leave my school aged son prematurely but I cannot and will not live a life that demands that I quash my kink on all but the oddest occasions.

I did not ask for this kink and nor can I do much about it. As it has been denied expression it simply grows in hunger and a demand to be expressed. There is no answer in denying its existence, either via my efforts to assure myself I will be all right (I won't), nor by my husband's going about our lives as if it did not exist and as if he has no part to play.

Further (and more truthful and explicit) therapy hopefully will hold the key as to where we go from here, but the simply truths are that:

1) I have a kink/fetish that requires a loving dominant in my life.
2) It doesn't go away by willing it to do so.
3) Either my partner in life is willing to accommodate my kink in his life or he is not.
4) I must make decisions about the rest of my life based on the above criteria.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Pleasure and bliss

This post prompted me to ask myself the questions - what is pleasure and what is bliss? My moments of bliss are often related to pleasure but I'd say that they aren't often so connected that they come at the same time. Rather, bliss will occur on its own, without there necessarily being (sexual) pleasure, or bliss will come very soon after pleasure.

If I think of bliss, I think of being in a zone or a state of mind wherein I feel heady, comfortable, happy to be alive, all being well in my world, tranquil, uplifted, a sense of joie de vivre, an understanding that I'm lucky; a light heart.

Bliss usually overtakes me. I don't expect it or see it coming. It can happen at any time, in any way. It doesn't relate to a particular set of circumstances. I can specifically recall, for example, and have thought back many times, to a moment about 30 years ago when I was in the city on my lunch hour and waiting for the lights to turn green when I could cross one of our main streets to the other side. I looked up the street and for a split second took in the vista. I distinctly recall the thought, "I am so happy to be here. I am so happy to be alive. I feel wonderful." I don't recall that feeling being related to anything else at all. It was a feeling of 'oneness' with my world. It was a sense of joy at being alive at this moment in this place.

I've had so many moments like this. I recall moments when I came across a street in Europe that enchanted me and felt so nourished by the experience, so lucky, that I consciously took a moment to register the joy I felt in being there. I can recall sitting under an ancient tree in a small square in the old part of Barcelona and feeling true joy at the beauty that surrounded me.

I had an evening a few nights ago alone in my big kitchen where I reveled in, and was very conscious of being alone in the room, making my meal and listening to my Mozart. All was profoundly right in my world, even though it was not necessarily all that well at all. What I mean by that is that joy or bliss doesn't take in all the details of one's life. It washes over you like a deep spring cleansing; a reminder of the great pleasure it is to be alive in the world on this day, in this moment. It's a reverential moment that comes when it comes.

In terms of sexual pleasure and a feeling of bliss, this can happen when I am removed from myself and invariably relates to a rush of energy from the dominant to me. My husband (who is my Owner at these moments) will take control of the situation and be demanding; exacting, strong willed. He'll exert my pleasure from me, either insisting that I let go to induce an orgasmic state  or placing me in opportunities wherein what I refer to as my 'submissive soul' surrenders and shines.

Not a girl in these moments, the 'bimbo' is present and the fucktoy a very real and living thing. I'm not so much joyous or in a state of bliss at these moments. Rather, I feel a union with the true me. I'm in my 'sweet spot', happy and carefree. But, the joy, I think, happens later when I feel well fucked; used; completely spent, satiated; full; no longer hungry. What I mean to say is that I don't have any cohesive thoughts at those times - rather no thought - so I may be experiencing joy or bliss but I'm not aware of it as a concept. Rather, I'm simply aware of my inner life being present; unmasked; given permission to run free.

Every now and then I have the God-given opportunity to experience total and mind numbing sub space. It goes beyond joy or bliss. It's a sense of peace and total inertia that supersedes anything else I can imagine in life. It's the gift of one person to another. It's the transference of energy from one person to another. It's 'the gain' given to me as one of life's rare treats; a priceless gift. I know not to chase these moments. It is crucial to be patient; not to allow "the desire for desire" to be all consuming. They come when they come. I know there won't be many of them and I know they are worth the wait. It's the secret bond between two people that we refer to, quite rightly, as 'the power exchange'.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Unconditional love

In terms of writing in the digital space about sexuality, the motivation for that is, I believe, to seek to understand and to be understood. It's the reason why I began this web journal and for many bloggers and people who read blogs, that is a prime motivation for doing so. Correct me if I am wrong.

In my time writing here I've read about and had conversations with many different people. No story is quite the same. Our sexuality belongs to us and only to us. Sexuality is such an important element of all people but when one's sexuality has elements that go outside the norm of what society accepts, it becomes especially important to us. Acceptance is what is we seek; from others and in our own minds and so we go searching for it.

What we do know is that a sexual fetish begins at an early age. Granted, it may not appear in our lives for many years - decades - but the origin of the fetish is in early experiences and even in our DNA. We also know that it won't go away by ignoring the truth and it won't go away by willing it to go away. No amount of will power will enable the fetish to remain hidden in the back vestiges of our mind and what we will find is that if we don't embrace the fetish and incorporate it into our lives in a healthy way, it will be detrimental to us and to those who love us.

I happened to catch an advertisement for a television show here in Australia. It is about unusual fetishes - a light, bright look at that, judging by the tenor of the advertisement - and the man they focused on in the advertisement is a man who has 12 blown up plastic dolphins at home. That is unusual. Some of us like to be given pain - spanking, whipping, dripping candles etc. Some of us like to be contained in tight clothes, to wear soft yarns, to have holes filled, to sleep with something over our heads. Some of  us yearn to feel the control of another person in our lives whilst other people yearn to have someone who trusts them enough to allow and want them to control them.

I find it difficult to separate this sort of behavior (all things being equal such as good intention, consensual behavior, healthy behavior and so on) from someone who wants to sleep on the floor rather than on the bed, or who wants to wear thick pajamas to bed rather than lie between the sheets naked. These are personal preferences, rather than aspects of life deserving the judgement of others.

My thoughts have been focused lately on thinking about these sexual fetishes in terms of one's partner. Some of us are blessed to be in relationships with people who understand us nearly perfectly because they have similar fetishes themselves. Ideally, if we want to be controlled we are with someone who loves to control us. However, no relationship is completely perfect, I don't think. Some people may feel so and good luck to them, but most of us make compromises for the other in order to live and let live.

One the biggest points of difference for us as a couple has been my husband's desire/need to have a 'night time' schedule. That is to say, he doesn't want to come to bed with me. I don't go to bed early. In fact, it's a rare night when I am asleep by midnight, but my husband comes to bed, say, 95% of the time at least, hours after me. It has been my feeling that since I couldn't stay up any later than I do - I am the parent who has got the children off to school and begun the day time activities and I am very tired by midnight - he is being unreasonable.

This has caused me great angst because it seems to me that if he just tried harder (like the sexual fetishist should try harder not to want what he wants?) he could come to bed with me at least a night or two each week. It is not to be and it has made me angry and to feel distance from him. However, he said something to me lately that made me pause. "If I come to bed early, I can't sleep properly."
Ahhhh, I hadn't really taken that in. So, I read about all this and the suggestion was that couples look for the hours that overlap and to make good use of those to feel close. With a changed perspective - that I can't change the situation and that he can't change what he does - I'm prepared to look at this in a new way; to let go of my judgments.

This is not to say that all elements of a partner's behavior should be ignored. For example, if one thinks of adult ADD, the person who stays in denial that he has this condition fails to be treated. It can take a few years for the frontal lobes to be repaired, my doctor told me, but it is never too late to seek treatment for the condition.

I feel deep within my bones that so much of what we do as human beings can be melted down to our need for unconditional love. We need to know that we are lovable with all our flaws and predilections. We need to feel comfortable in  a sense of our own identity and where we belong.

Friday, November 15, 2013

An Owner and his property: the exchange

We know what a husband does, or is meant to do - to protect. His job is to see that no harm comes to the woman he has taken as his bride. To the best of his abilities he will look after her and see to it that she is not injured. It's been written into narratives for centuries and has become a part of  our law; our folklore; that which we hold as true and right - a husband must take care of his wife and treat her well.

However, if you are a woman born with a submissive nature and if your sexuality demands that you thrive in an arena of consensual non-consent, a husband is not enough for you. A husband cannot fulfill the needs which lie deep in your DNA and demand to be expressed.

What, then? Such a person (bimbo?) requires an owner, because it is only a man with a owner's mindset that can understand what this particular woman needs. On occasion, kisses and cuddles are delightful but they don't satiate the appetite of this entity. The only sort of thing that can truly whet the appetite of such a person is a masochistic experience; something that makes it clear that she is under the command of someone who will take what he wants, when he wants and how he wants. She needs to feel that all control has been taken from her; that she will suffer and endure what the dominant man wants; that it is her job to do as he desires and accept what he pleases to give; enjoyed or despised.

Of course, under the realm of loving dominance a man must be both protector and prosecutor; a man of valor and a villain; a good guy and a bad boy all rolled into one. This makes complete sense to her because she feeds off this sort of expression of his right to dominate her and abuse her; to denigrate and deface. She belongs to him, has been marked by him as a piece of property and this sort of spoil of his object is his choice; his right; his expression of ownership.

To be debased in this way, to be reminded of her connection to him and her place in the hierarchy of order of objects is to experience the deepest of connection. Yes, she feeds him and elevates him but he does the same for her. To be defiled in this way is to be reminded of her special place in his life; of the spirit with which she was born and of the uncontrollable urge to serve; to accept and to be liberated to the best part of herself.

P.S. If you'd like to read more about consensual non-consent this is a useful article.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Power exchange perfection

Arousal is a very personal thing and what I have discovered about myself is that I am profoundly aroused by having a relationship such that my compliance is under absolutely no doubt. It's more than an agreement that we'll both be happy in a power exchange arrangement. My arousal comes from the man wanting and taking from me what pleases him.

Of course, whatever is decided is a negotiation, of sorts, but negotiations are such a turn on for me, that push and pull, that I'm never sure if what I've agreed to is what I really want or what I want because the other wants it. It's a desire to please, yes. It's a challenge, which I love. But, that the other has declared his hand and demanded something of me, for himself and his own pleasure (even if it revolves around my own ultimate pleasure) is so delicious for me. I adore the deviousness of it. I revel in the exchange of power, but more importantly in him taking charge. To enjoy the bitter, there must be sweet, of course, but I really like a bit of evil in a man; that arrogance to insist on having what he wants regardless of what I think.

There are two aspects of power exchange, I think - the everyday and the erotic. My husband is loving but firm. If we have cross words (meaning: if he growls at me) it is because he feels I have forgotten my place. "You forget yourself" is the expression he will use. Or, "If you want to make the decisions, you're with the wrong man." He's firm and demanding and whilst it is incredibly frustrating to find myself in trouble for the simplest misspeaking of words, I do recognize how our marriage works well and also that I have no chance of changing it. There's a certain arousal for me in this arrangement. I do appreciate a strong man in my life. He provides me with challenge; maybe too much challenge at times because I have so often had to bend to his will and to look at the world through his eyes. Sometimes, it just seems easier to keep some of my thoughts to myself, and I do. Still, as I go about my life I know where I stand. There's no negotiation here. I bend to his will or we're both unhappy. That's the everyday aspect of power exchange - how things go minute by minute.

Even on the everyday level, I see opportunities for a more interesting and arousing life. Yes, I keep him happy doing things his way and providing him with what he wants. But, I think the everyday can provoke arousal with compliance of a different sort. I'd actually love it if he were, for example, to tell me he wants me in bed with the lights out by, say, midnight at the latest. Not only that, I'd love it if he saw to it that I complied. I don't think these are the sorts of things he wants to do. He certainly doesn't do them, which is a shame because I think it would bring us closer.

When I think about my ideal power exchange  relationship I think of a model of loving dominance. I want to be absolutely clear about who leads just as I have always been clear about that, but as well I'd love it if the dominant made it clear about rules and rituals he wants. A bedtime makes sense to me (I'm often overtired from lack of sleep since there is no flexibility in the time I must get up most days) and I'd like some supervision about a few other things as well - an exercise regime, for example or some expression of interest as to the way I dress, or what color he prefers. I'd love to have things picked out for me or just for him to express his desires.

I'd like to feel that my dominant was there to guide me as to what is good for me but also according to his wants. Perhaps he wants to be kissed good morning or kissed good evening in a certain way, or perhaps he wants some other specific thing to which I could attend. When you feel loving and are just adoring your submissive role you want to fuss over the other a bit - whatever would make them happy. It's such a natural thing for me to do - to help others and make them happy - that providing this sort of service for the dominant and giving him pleasure makes me very happy.  Somehow, I see this service as incorporated within the erotic components of the power exchange because if there is no or very little eroticism, my pleasure in these daily acts of kindness and compliance is much, much less. In fact, they become more like chores, and I hate that feeling. It's the feeling that you are being taken for granted and no-one likes that feeling.

With regards to the erotic component of power exchange my very strong preference is to have no say in the matter whatsoever. I like for all such decisions to be made for me. Whilst it isn't erotic per se yesterday morning my husband was waking me after a long sleep (for me) asking if I'd like to go out for breakfast. I mumbled I would. I was delighted he had taken the initiative. From there he started asking me would I like things - would I like a spanking before we left, for example.This simply throws me into confusion. Why do I have to decide these things? He saw the dilemma via my silence. "You really do hate being given choices, don't you," he said. Yes, I do. If you want to spank me, then go ahead. If you don't, then I'll do without, but please don't expect me to make these sort of decisions myself. That's how I feel about it.

Thus it is with all erotic/sexual/sensual decisions. Sure, consultation is much appreciated but Dominants have a way of leading you to their wants and decisions anyway so it's obvious I am going to agree. From there, it's all about compliance and the firmer the demand to comply, the more I sense the non-negotiability of the situation, the more aroused I am, the safer I am, the happier I am. What is difficult about this to understand? I. do. not. want. any. control.

I wonder, are there any men out there who like the sound of this? Is it too much? Is my desire to give up control and to put control in the hands of a dominant too much? Is it too much to expect to serve sexually regularly, to be dominated with the best of intentions; for me to interpret that dominance as care; to be adored for wanting this? In my ideal world my man would shower me with kisses on a daily basis for being the woman that I am. Wouldn't that be divine!

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Dominating another woman: Jean's challenge

When I wake in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep I find I have to break the impasse, so I get up, have a little tub of lactose-free vanilla yoghurt and sit down and write myself a smutty tale. After that, I wander back to bed, encase myself in my husband's body and sleep a wonderfully deep sleep. Highly recommended for all perverted insomniacs out there. And, don't worry about the quality of your tale. Really, anything very smutty will do the trick!

 Jean bathed herself and applied her make-up carefully; put on the long looped silver ear-rings and the solid silver necklace around her neck. She applied a little perfume to the back of each ear and a slight spray to one wrist. As Jean rubbed her wrists together she allowed herself a fleeting moment of apprehension about the requirements of the day. It was not her way to move too far ahead in her mind. It was her way of controlling nerves that could too easily run a muck. Instead, she checked the time and noted that she was running according to schedule.

Jean picked up the printed out email again and checked the dress instructions one last time. She put on black panties, the black suspender belt and attached sheer black stockings to the loops; slipped her feet into the black suede, high heels pumps. Jean reached for the quarter-cut bra now and put the item around her breasts. She checked her reflection in the mirror and took in the fact that she was scantily and titillatingly dressed. Not permitted a dress, she put her coat over her undergarments, checked that her hair was in order, collected her keys, printed email and handbag, and went down to her car. 

It was a half hour drive to her destination, she had predicted. On this day, in a house she did not know, Jon would be waiting. If she were off to meet him alone her only real concern would be that she may become lost; that her car should break down and someone would learn of her state of dress below the coat. Jon wasn't always tender with her, thankfully, but he was a known quantity. She trusted him.

Today, Jon had told her in the email, would be a new experience. Today, another girl had been invited to play with them and Jean understood that she would be challenged. She would need to quash her jealousy, perhaps. To see Jon's hands on another woman would not be easy. Under his careful direction and choreography, Jean was confident that she could abide by his desires of her; allow this other woman to test and tease her; to touch her in a way that no woman had ever touched her before. 

Jean's mind had played with the thought since the email arrived in her in box three days ago and she was opening herself to the thought that she might enjoy it; might melt into the touch of womanly hands; womanly lips; soft, gentle embraces. She hadn't quite managed to embrace the thought that the woman may not be tender at all; that she may be in the company of a bitch. Jean decided to expunge the thought before it took hold of her nerves because the thought truly terrified her.
Breathing deeply and calm again, Jean's mind roamed over past conversations with Jon and for reasons she did not know it rested on a particular conversation at the Supper Club a few weeks ago. He had asked a question softly, almost absentmindedly; as if it were of no importance at all; a passing fancy. 'Do you ever imagine controlling a woman; providing her with pain?' he asked. Jean had shaken her head immediately. No, she had never thought about that, could never do that, she told him. He changed the subject and the matter was closed.

Driving along the coastal highway, with the vision of the ocean soothing and settling her mind, the potential implications of the casual statement suddenly settled in Jean's brain and her mouth registered a silent 'Oooooo'. Anything, but that.  Jean couldn't do that. No sooner had the silent sound reverberated in her mind when another thought took over. Jon was not someone to be denied. Ever. She'd tried that before, a long time ago now and never would again. Whatever her resistance at this moment, it needed to be overcome.

As the car made its way down the Peninsula Jean allowed images of dominating another woman to enter her consciousness. In an effort to spur herself on she imagined that the woman had whipped her and gained pleasure from the experience. She'd laughed while Jean cried. No man had ever done that to her. She was right to be suspicious of women after all.

As she lay across a bench breathing heavily, tears rolling down her face and trying to recover her composure, she imagined Jon's whisper in her ear. "Now, it's your turn, darlin'. Show that tart what you think of her." Something in Jean stirred at the thought. She imagined the woman's prone buttocks at her mercy now and she imagined the feel of the whip in her hands.

The trip had been faster than she expected and without incident. His instructions had been straightforward and easy to follow. Jean turned off the ignition, locked the car and walked tall to the front door of the white wooden house. She was ready to be good, or bad; to do whatever she was told, as always. 

(to be continued, maybe)

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Loving two men

What fascinates me is how life keeps changing and we keep changing but that fundamentally we don't change. We can gain great insight, but at the core we simply do not change. I think that for quite some time I fought against that and to some extent I always will.

I happen to be one of those people, perhaps caught up in the mix of a difficult personal dilemma, that wanted to explore and understand what was happening to her inside. I think Jane Fonda did something similar. Conscious that she didn't feel "whole", that she wasn't able to bring "her whole self" to the table in her marriage with Ted Turner, she left a man she loved and decided to build a new life for herself. That's no small thing. It takes a lot of courage to do that.

I listen to TED talks regularly and in her talk about vulnerability Brene Brown talked about her research and how "wholehearted people" have the courage to be imperfect, to tell who they are with their whole heart; be compassionate with themselves and with others.

I think I've embraced vulnerability in this web journal. I think I've talked about myself with my whole heart. I've explored what I do wrong and I what I do right. I've be open to growing and exploring. I've been open to changing. I did change. I learned a great deal, not just about myself but how to be a better person. Most of all I learned to accept. But, the very core of me; what I'd love to have, experience and feel - that's just the same. That didn't change. That won't change.

Here's what I know. I married very young. I was only 24 years old and I really didn't know enough about myself to be choosing a partner for the rest of my life. It's the lucky 24 year old that does manage to do that. Yet, in so many ways we have been very well suited. There must have been some good and natural instincts that were aiding me and I married a good man; a kind man. We both wanted children and to be part of a family and we really were, as much as anyone can be, good parents. There is an enormous amount of love going around our family. Most important of all, all the children feel that they are 'good enough'. All the children believe that they are worthy of love and belonging, and as Brene Brown says, that is the real job of parents.

I'm someone who thrives on sexual and physical attention; the sort of romantic love where I feel someone is leading the way. The fucktoy 'cindi' wasn't created for me. It was simply brought out with higher definition. It's always been this way. I radiate with that sort of sexual attention and I suffer when I feel that the relationship has, in my eyes, dwindled down to a more vanilla style marriage. Even in a vanilla style marriage, he leads the way. I don't interfere, nor really ask at all about finances, because he doesn't want me to and I abide by that.

Even in a vanilla marriage I've learned to be calm, patient, to repeat what I say endlessly; to be respectful; kind, caring; giving; loving. I maintain my standards. He can be overbearing (he's really very dominant in that he wants things his way) and I use breathing techniques if I find myself too upset. If I need to approach him with my distress, I do so in a calm and considered way. I've learned a lot of communication techniques along the way.

Most of all, I give him the private and personal time he needs. I aim now never to complain about his screen and working time that can have him up until the middle of the night many nights in a row, leading him to wear himself out. I take my opportunities to remind him of good daily practices: exercise and sleep. I encourage him to keep his worrying to specified times.  I encourage him to walk with me; to have breakfast out with me; to go to the movies with me. I continue to suggest and he'll take me up on these ideas. I keep trying to forge a connection in any way I can without it impinging too much on my life. I'm  not good at sitting on the couch each evening, for example. I admit I'd rather do something else; read a book; satiate my BDSM desires by reading online.

There are times when he can thrill me. I'm not sure if these are times when he makes a big effort for me or if a moment has come when he has a desire himself to be darker. Either way, I get enormous benefit from these times. My love for him is deeper; stronger. My love of my life escalates and my spirits rise. They are the times when I write with positive spirit here in the journal. Know that any time I am happy here I have been roughly and rudely fucked.

The times in between those times can be very hard. I make every effort to live each moment with joy; to make the most of my days and to really live life. I can and always have taken great joy in a great many things and I was blessed with a sense of the ridiculous. I love to giggle and to be silly. But, I cannot deny that if I knew then, at 24 years old, what I know now I would need to take into my account my nature; the nature that persistently asks for a dominant man; the nature that asks in every bone of my being for a man to lead the way, not just in a financial sense or a father of the family sense, but in terms of a dominant man leading a submissive woman, in the bedroom and out.

The truth is that I want to feel the fucktoy at all times, whatever I am doing. I want demands made of me. I want to feel that dominant presence in my life; for the person who I know myself to be to be present; desired; relevant.

Here I am, almost wishing that age would eliminate my deep desires. But, I'm here to tell you that no matter how old you grow, they don't go away. They only increase in demand. And, here I am still loving the man I married 33 years ago; still trying to come to terms with the dilemma.

(Here's the link to the Brene Brown talk:

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Balancing the needs of kink

Kink doesn't lose any traction over time. It only gets stronger and more demanding.`These desires can overwhelm the mind, take up more and more time until there can come a moment when one registers that perhaps one is out of balance; perhaps one should try hard to think about something else.

When in the midst of one's kink, either satiated, or with a lustful appetite for more expression of the kink, there's a sense that one probably should leave the table for one's own health. Yet, there is more meat on the bone, more trifle, Camembert cheese; more chocolates in the box. And, these banquets don't happen every day. Why not a little more?

It can happen to one person or both; that moment when one simply has to stop ingesting; simply has to stop partaking of the delicious treats. That's not a bad thing. It's an acknowledgement to oneself to go a little slower perhaps; to acknowledge that we can be in the grip at times of our own lust.

I don't advocate and am too far into these processes to ever again STOP what I know does me a heap of good. Kink, for me, doesn't work like that. My needs are my needs and they don't go away for very good reasons. It's not some game for me but rather a real need for my body to experience what it does on a daily basis. It's a treatment of sorts and if you take away the treatments I go down hill very fast.

However, it's no bad thing to redistribute daily life every so often. It's been cold and dull here for far too long but the sun has begun to make an appearance late in the day these evenings and it prompts me to get out and about more; to spread my creativity across various pursuits as a form of personal expression; to interact with creative sorts on various non digital platforms and to enjoy my life in every way.

I don't mean that I should suddenly make a bunch of decisions to counteract my desire to make no decisions at all. That would not work. I need my 'bimbo' time. I adore it too much. What I mean is that the longing for the bimbo state can have me going too slow; leave me in a rather catatonic state where the longing for it becomes too much. The longing can hurt me and be counter-productive and if there's no real solution presenting itself in my life right now as to consistency of that experience, then there comes a time when I need to turn the longing off, for my own sake.

The kink won't, and need not go away. It's here to stay. I have no power to alter this nor do I wish to do so. Yet, there is so much of life to explore and it's time I did just a little more of that. It's all about balance - simply redistributing the thoughts patterns so that they are more in line with what works ideally. The formula for that is within the mind of each kinkster, according to the limitations and precinct of one's life as led with other people. Following one's intuition is really the only way to reconstruct balance.