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!

Kinks

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.

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'.

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.

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.

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!

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)

 

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: http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html)