The sadist

There's the part of me that's simply submissive. I don't want to lead. I want to follow. I want to know my place; to be of service; to feel owned. Lots of people want that. They want to be good and to get the praise and the care, and all's well. I guess that's what you call 'D/s'.

For me, it's not enough. It's a whole lot better than nothing but submission alone isn't enough for me. I'm a masochist. I get off on physical and emotional sadistic glee pointed in my direction.

I don't mean I want some mean and nasty man in my life. I want a nice man in my life who just so happens to get off on being sadistic in the same way I get off on experiencing masochism.

I don't want to be able to predict everything. I don't want to predict much at all. I want to be caught off guard; to feel like prey. I want to suddenly find myself at the behest of his beastly bastardry.

His is a particularly keen, gourmet appetite, this diner with whom I wish to sit at my table. There's no doubt he's a planner and he's orchestrated this meal; soup to nuts.

There's only one detail of this meal of which I can be sure. He'll feast on my desire and I'll come away satiated, because he would never allow me to go away hungry. He can be such a glutton, but he wouldn't dream of not sharing the repast!

Even if it means I'll think of him as the dick that he can be on such occasions, I'll revel in that too. Oh dear. He knows me too well.

Modification

The record shows that I've been anally 'trained'. It's not just about anal sex being easier. Maybe it is all about that for some people, but it's not so in my case. It's got a great deal to do with how I function best. I sometimes refer to it as an addiction, because I have come to rely on anal plugs as being an important part of my life. They are necessary for my well-being. They cannot be done without. There's no negotiation here. If you have high blood pressure you take some sort of medication for that. I use anal plugs for my own good mental health.

You'd think - my goodness, after all this time it's a reasonable damn assumption - that I wouldn't forget this; that it would not slip my mind. You'd also think, that like someone who takes lithium for a condition, you'd reconcile yourself to the fact that you must take your medication every single day.

In an ideal world, in an ideal mindset, this would be the case. I don't think a Dominant should necessarily be the one to insist that the treatment is taken routinely. But, being dumdum sometimes happens to even the smartest people. It happened to me this morning.

I semi-woke aware of there being something wrong. It can be hard to identify what is wrong in that sleepy state but I recall making the effort to go and retrieve a plug and insert it. In my haze more sleep won over my understanding of what I should do. The day got going. I dressed and did some chores, but this aggitation refused to let go of my psyche. Nothing was going quite like I'd like it to go. In my mind that was a much bigger deal than it ought to have been.

Two hours later the aggitation was still firmly in place and refusing to budge. I worked through it, in the sense that it didn't derail my plans, but the world, even with the winter sun painting a shine over the day, was annoying the hell out of me. I knew enough to know that my company was of no worth to anyone. Oh sure, I listened to the Moroccan boy wax lyrical about his new cheese, and the flower girl and I talked plant species, but inside I just wanted to put my head in my hands and be by myself.

I came home. All I could think to do was to take a 'St. John's Wort' tablet. These nerves were too close to the surface. Something needed to settle them down. And, then, the thought was there. What about plugggi?? PLUGGGI. Of course. It had been days since I had embraced plugggi.

I moved quickly, anxious for that moment when it hits home. And, there it was...

A blank mind.
Aggitation gone.
Peace.

Is it all in my mind? Has the suggestion been put into my head that I must use pluggi every day, forever? Was my mind manipulated to suit his fancy? Or, did it just happen that way - that my body accommodated pluggi and insisted thereafter that an empty hole was an unnatural state? Or, both?

Well, it is done now, written in stone. It doesn't really matter how it happened any more.  Pluggi = peace. That's just the way it is.

Love

Don't you think it is the most wonderful thing that a man can love you, or feel so tenderly for you that they want to contain you, beat you, arouse you and make your heart beat lighter; make your life brighter?

Don't you feel one of the luckiest girls in the world that you need to ask permission before you purchase an item of clothing; that he cares enough to monitor your wardrobe?

Don't you sing a little song of gratitude every time he finds you alluring in that gag, hood or restraint; that his idea of beauty is of you panting in pain or slobbering in your saliva?

Isn't that love? Isn't that peace? Isn't that beauty?

Of course it is. Kinky style. The best.

Obedience

It took me considerable time to learn how integral obedience is to the power exchange relationship. It's obvious that it is vital to the smooth running of such a relationship, I get that, but knowing that intellectually and knowing that in your bones is two different things.

I had a number of erroneous thoughts about the place of obedience. Mostly, I would disobey because my emotions were upside down and when my emotions are upside down I can act or speak irrationally. On other occasions I'd convince myself that it would be all right, that I'd be forgiven soon anyway, that I wouldn't be punished, that I didn't care if I was punished; that I was in the right; that it surely didn't matter all that much anyway. It did.

I hadn't realized how important it is to the Dominant to be in control all the time and thus on occasion I drove a sword through the arrangement, only to feel an intense sense of guilt and regret very soon thereafter.

Eventually, it dawned on me that obeying was a far easier option than disobeying. Possibly, I am a slow learner on this matter, or maybe the older you are the more difficult it might be to break down the ego and the sense of self will.

Most of all I think it was a matter of not communicating well. Instead of asking for something, or explaining my upset; holding my upset in for as long as I could, I'd eventually 'chuck a wobbly'. Having learned eventually to communicate any feelings of distress, when I asked for something and got the answer 'no', I'd feeling really hardly done by and that's when I might act out.

Little did I know that the training process is a wild and glorious ride, filled with ups and downs, but that eventually the emotions subside and the message is understood down to your core that you can run up and down the main street ranting, but nothing changes the fact that you've signed on to obey, and obey you shall.

There was a time when I crossed a line because I was curious as to what would happen, or excited about what would happen. or was too worked up to care what would happen. There were moments when I masochistically did enjoy the correction, on one level or another, but I don't think I ever did NOT regret a correction. I hated being in trouble. I hated the disconnection. I'd take every one of those situations back if I could, but back then I didn't know any better. I was simply doing the best I could.

I can still be a flighty person. I've yet to reach some nirvana state where I am always angelic, kind, empathic, reasonable, patient, accepting; obedient. But, I get that that is the goal. I get that obedience is the natural state if you want an authority figure in your life. I've given up fighting that fact, finally.

Erotic images

I imagine that, like me, most people masturbate to images that please them and arouse them. I'll note here my most recent images, those of this morning; images that brought me to climax at my own hand.

I have an Owner. This becomes very apparent because when I knock on his study door on my return home he reminds me that I have failed to complete a task.

It is true. The task has slipped my mind. I apologize and say that I will tend to it immediately. He replies that before this takes place, a written task, he needs to "correct me" to impress upon me the most important rule of all; the rule from which all other rules originate.

'What is your most important rule, girl?'

'To do as told.'

'To do as told. The correction will help to impress this upon you.'

He produces a tawse. He has me take off my panties and bend over his desk. He has me count each stroke and to thank him for each stoke; strokes that help me to learn my lesson.

I have yet to climax. I need to feel the connection with my sadist Owner more intensely.

He lectures me a little; not sternly, just more talk about training me to respond to his every whim instantly; the desire to please him as being my first and uppermost thought.

Then, he says that he wants to keep my attention right now on my warm ass. Thus, I am to stand close to the open fire with my bottom presented to the fire, to maintain the heat; to remind me of the work of the tawse.

He assists me into position, bends me over and spreads my cheeks. He wants, he says, for every last inch of my backside to feel the glow of the embers.  Noting my anal plug is in place (God forbid I'd broken that rule!) he tells me that today it will remain in place for longer than usual; that I am not to remove it until I am granted permission.

Buzz words do it for me - 'permission' is an instant turn on for me. I am much wetter now; way more aroused now.

Of course, I struggle. The flames are making it incredibly difficult to remain in place and yet, having disappointed once already today, I know that I must endure. He might as well say, 'suffer for me', because that is what he wants me to do, and that is what I know I must do, for his sake and for mine.

The whimpers become more intense, more desperate. He comes to me finally and allows the back of my skirt to fall down over my very red ass. He tells me to rise. He holds me close. 'Good girl'.

'Do you wish to serve your Owner?'

I am desperate to do so. I nod. He leads me further away from the open fire and silently commands me to my knees. My mouth opens at the sight of his cock and without further invitation I take it into my mouth as one might put one's lips to the Holy Grail; with reverence and awe. Immediately, I feel at peace.

He speaks to me at times - that it is my place to serve him; that it is his pleasure that matters the most, and all through these words, I hear them merely as distant music in the background. My head is empty of thought. My mind is absorbed in a sense of grateful fulfilment and abandon.

Unexpectedly, he holds my head tight in his hands, the signal that he will dictate the pace from now on. He thrusts his cock deep in my mouth at rapid speed. Meanwhile, I am lost in sensations of being used, of being of use; of having an Owner; of being at one with him and of being at one with myself.

 He comes hard, grunting, spurting hot cum into my mouth. I have my own version of an orgasm;  it is a massive relief to the soul to be treated in this way.

 In real life, I'd reached my own climax, but even so it's hard to let the images go. They provide me with intense relief from a fundamentally vanilla marriage. I am the kinky one around these parts. So, I added one last little detail to the scene. The task was a written one. In his study is a school desk - wooden with a wooden chair  to match. He has me complete the overdue written task sitting at that desk, with my corrected bottom directly on the seat.

Of all the events that afternoon I find this one the most humiliating. I can't get lost in sexuality. It is all about 'place'; humiliation; enforcing my role as his charge and his role as my authority figure. It just thrills me to the core, that image.  

Expectations

There was an inspiring story on Australia's 60 Minutes last night explaining how PTSD sufferers had a real chance of moving on with their lives after they'd completed a gruelling 3 day bicycle ride which  makes up part of the Tour de France. I noted a couple of things in particular:

First of all, those most able to walk in another person's shoes were most likely to suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, probably putting the submissive profile most at risk of this condition.

Secondly, the punishing exercise and the sense of achievement gained from completing the course seemed to reset their minds to a sense of a positive future. Of course, it didn't hurt that they had the wonderful Cadel Evans, winner of the Tour de France and the ever funny Hamish Blake there riding with them, but it says something about how crucial exercise is to a healthy and positive state of mind.

I'm only a few days into committing to beginning my days with exercise in the park but I am already astounded at my improved state of mind, my sense of positivism and my daily output.

I've always felt that you do a submissive person like me a favour when you give them an expectation that they'll exercise regularly. We so like to please and for there to be expectations of us to which we can aspire. If we get fit and happy as a result, where's the downside of including fitness into the regimen?

Guiding Hand

There's not a doubt in my mind that I do better with supervision, a coach of sorts. Whether we are talking about weight loss or physical fitness, writing or learning output, I do best when expectations are noted and monitored. If my husband wants me to speed up on the streets he takes my hand and comments that it never ceases to amaze him how I am perfectly able to walk faster once I have that guiding hand.

At one point I was expected to write down everything I ate. The expectation was removed and things got harder. I was aware of this just now when I put together a light lunch. There's a half of a yummy lemon slice sitting in the refrigerator. This is where supervision comes to the fore.  You may be able to convince yourself that eating this treat doesn't really matter, but can you convince someone else who is monitoring your very own goals? Of course you can't. The lemon slice has no place in your meal and you both know it.

It's the same with writing output. I chained myself to my desk yesterday (figuratively speaking) because my tutor pointed out how my script could be improved, and having a mindset to want to please, and knowing without any doubt that he knows what he is talking about and I should most certainly take his advice, I put the effort in to achieve a much better result.

I was talking to a woman last night who goes to 'Weight Watchers'. She said that they got cross with her that day because she hadn't achieved as they would have expected.

Are you going to commit or not? 

So, she said that she'd be good this week. But, since she has one week to go before she has to face the music again, she had two glasses of wine that I observed (and a couple before I got there) and she heartily shared in a group dessert. I truly believe her when she says that she will have celery and tomato tonight for dinner, but what exactly is she doing here?

If she had a Dominant in her life, and she does not, let's face it, he'd close down that sort of thinking very quickly. Three healthy meals, he'd say - one or two little treats per week is allowable - and - watch the wine consumption!

Of course, a lot of gals don't appreciate this type of supervision and a lot of girls have an iron will. I do appreciate supervision and I don't have an iron will.

I think one of the factors that I hadn't quite taken in before is that if you allow the thought 'I want to please him' dictate your state of mind, doing the right thing is much easier. You want the great outcome not just for yourself so that you feel good about yourself, but because you will be most pleasing to him.

It's not just that you might get punished if you disobey, but that you'll receive the most delightful praise if you do as he tells you so that you can benefit from his guidance.  And who of us doesn't swoon with praise?

Leaps of faith

I happened to mention to a friend that I often think back to Indianna Jones and his 'leap of faith' when I have to make a decision that might launch me into unknown territory. I was hinting at the fact that I wouldn't mind his opinion. Nothing.

I mentioned the Knight and how Indianna had got a little help from him, a nudge in the right direction...

"Choose wisely"

"Remember?" I hinted.

Of course, Indianna had first to make his 'Leap of Faith' before he got to the Cup, but I was rolling them into one sequence in the hope of making a convincing point.

Of course, this strategy did not pay off. He is far too much of a film buff to let me away with that, telling me to watch the scene again.

But, just before he dashed off he did, in fact, give me a great big hint.

"This was one step  in a long journey. Don't overthink it."

Perhaps, we make too much out of leaps of faith.

"You must believe."

Facets of my submissive personality

I've been wondering lately if there aren't a number of facets that make up a submissive woman. In my case, I've identified three main facets.

1) The inner slut. She's called 'cindi'. She can be seduced or aroused fairly easily although her level of arousal will vary from time to time, depending on the circumstances in which she finds herself. The more desired and accepted she is, the more she'll reveal the depths of that sluttiness. If she is called upon very regularly, well then this element of this submissive woman is prominent and constant; more or less shoves all the other facets to one side.

2) 'Girl'. She is the everyday entity; the person who goes about her days such that her submissiveness is more or less 'blind' to other people, except her Dominant, who can call on her service at any time of the day or night - not necessarily, or at all, related to her 'inner slut', but rather that understanding that she carries in her bones that she knows her place and that she has a boss.

3) L'il one. There's a child like element to my personality. I don't think this can be denied, otherwise why is an admonishment as natural to me as a teacher admonishing a child, a parent admonishing a child, or an owner admonishing a dog? I can feel small. I can desire protection and guidance. I adore to be tucked into bed, or told I can or can't have something. I crave the sort of unconditional love that comes with this element of my personality. I can do wrong but I can also be punished and forgiven.

Of course, as any other submissive woman reading this would know, or any other Dominant who understands what makes such women tick, it gets complicated. These facets can't necessarily be kept separated.

Approach 'l'il one' about her behaviour, tell her off and tell her she can't have anything sweet for a month, and once she's registered within her bones her anger with herself for getting herself into this mess, she'll be very aroused indeed. Is she 'l'il one' any more or has 'the slut' been prompted to make an appearance? Speak to "girl" and she may well have a lovely moment of registering her satisfaction of life in her little guilded cage. Suddenly 'the slut' may appear. It's hard to keep that facet of the persona at bay really because both 'girl' and 'l'il one' can be aroused by feeling some force which then translates into arousal.

In my ideal fantasy relationship, all facets would be called on at different times, subject to the whim of the Dominant and the necessities of the moment. Whichever facet he calls to the fore, it's another opportunity to feel at peace; to feel oneself.

Service

Years ago, I shared some correspondence with a genuine but odd sort of person with a strong understanding of what made submissive women tick. He trained them, not just on the Internet but at his home and for other men sometimes. He was blunt and in any body's terms, rude, but I continued to correspond to gather what wisdom he might have to help me understand myself.

He spoke of 'service'. It was a pattern I identified, and I asked why he often talked of 'serving'. I'd been providing service to others all my life, and it wasn't necessarily getting me closer to feeling whatever I needed to feel to be comfortable in my own skin. He was obtuse, or he pretended he was obtuse, and he said he didn't know.

It's come up again in various capacities over time. I will read something, or someone will say something in conversation like, "You need to serve". It's almost as if there is some innate understanding in some people that some women truly do need to be in that serving/slave mode in order to fully express themselves; in order to feel at peace within their own minds and bodies.

When I look back over the past several years and I think about the times when I did feel complete I was, in fact, 'serving'. There was something asked of me and thus I had an opportunity to serve. If I served well and gave pleasure, and thus received praise, I was perfectly content. If I didn't serve well and didn't please and instead was admonished, I felt aberrant. It prompted me to want to serve better next time because I hate displeasing. I hate the feelings it generates in me. Think of it like this for a moment: Providing good service = a happy and content submissive.

There are two points I'd like to make about that. First of all, if you don't provide a submissive woman with those opportunities to serve it's almost tantamount to not feeding a baby. You are robbing her of one of her basic necessities of life. Oh, she'll cook or do the laundry or buy you a shirt in lieu of the more intense and life-giving service she needs to give to you, but it will never be enough to scratch her itch. It is this wisdom that my gentleman correspondent knew in his bones but refused to put into sentences for me.

Secondly, if a submissive woman is frantic for particular feelings, that feeling of having served well, thus putting her world on the right axis, she may well do just about anything you ask. It's typical for a submissive woman at some stage to be asked by a Dominant what she wants. She can speak to her fantasy life, of course, but that doesn't necessarily get you closer to what she wants in real life. You could have her fill in a list of various BDSM activities and that would gauge her experience and her inclinations. But, given that the sub-text is 'Geez, I just want to serve you. I want that feeling that comes when I do that and after I do that and you're pleased with me and we're in harmony...' it is altogether possible that you can lead a submissive woman down roads and lanes that she would never have thought to go.

A Dominant has a great deal of responsibility because there is just no doubt that a submissive woman is vulnerable to his state of mind. She is constantly checking in as to his responses. Does he want her to do something that makes her skin crawl? Well, what are her options? She could say she can't do that, or doesn't want to do that, or that it doesn't feel right, but she's risking making him unhappy and thus herself unhappy, and so she adapts to his needs and fancy, whether they are particularly healthy for her or not. This is the risk.

In an ideal relationship, there will be a flow of communication between both people that means they are in tune with one another and these sort of issues can be addressed before they become big boulders of misunderstanding. I've heard so much about 'communication is key' but not having been in a relationship with a steady flow of shared ideas and thoughts I haven't entirely understood how that works. I've never been that exposed. It hasn't been wanted.

Now that I do understand that my innate drive is to serve I realize how easily I could be, or have been, seduced to believe anything. For some time, I fell back on my own wits, my own instincts to keep me safe. I reached a point where I doubted my ability to make a decision for myself too. I just crawled back to a safe place inside myself where nobody could hurt me any more. I am happy to say that I feel stronger now, at peace with my own nature. I understand what I need. I understand myself and what happened in the journey thus far.

The defining moment

In the process of learning how to be a script writer I've been required to come up with an idea for a feature film. It's not insignificant what we are required to do, in fact. One has to decide on a theme, and to plot out a story from beginning to end, as well as to write the first act of the film as a script. Some weeks, we have to take a break from that assignment to consider other possible versions of our central theme - perhaps to turn the single protagonist story to a multi protagonist structure, or to consider how one would turn the material around to be a one act show.

If you consider one act shows there is often a central moment. If you consider your own life there may be one central moment. (I strongly recommend you write a diary, but not what you did that day, rather the random thoughts that pop into your head, and over time, it will emerge.)

When we put one foot in front of the other and go about our lives day to day that central moment can be easily missed, but it's there, a central moment in your life. In other words, what's the 'through line' that binds all the random and everyday moments of your life? Maybe, think about it like that.

Stories are neat. Life is not so neat.

For example, I opened this blog, I closed this blog, I re-opened this blog. I stopped writing in this blog. I began writing in this blog...

Why?

Well, there are times when I say, 'This is me. I'm a kinky person. I operate best in a more controlled environment than just being one person in the big wide world, or one person who lives within a family structure. I operate best when I have the opportunity to demonstrate my submissive nature'.

Then, there are times when I say, 'Look, it clearly doesn't suit other people for me to have this nature. I'll stifle it down, bang it down and nail up the lid of the box, make it surrender, and just try to forget about it'.

But, the truth is that you can't run away from who you are. I'm me. I'm submissive. I need to not only accept that but to embrace it and register it as my truth.

My defining moment is acknowledging that I may be able to run but I can't hide from myself. Wherever I go, the submissive nature follows me, taunts me. It's real. It's part of me. It isn't going away.

So, I'm back.

Peace

There was a time when I couldn't remember my dreams at all. Perhaps, randomly some time after the dream I might remember the tone of a dream - perhaps that it was sinister - or that I had performed some action, but nothing that I could string together in any sort of coherent way.

Then, my dreams started to take some shape in my consciousness such that I could remember them as being an event. They still didn't have a beginning, a middle and an end, but I felt that I was in better tune with what my subconscious brain was doing whilst I slumbered.

In the past week or so I have had two very vivid nightmares. For me, this is odd. I remember a nightmare many years ago - about my son who was a toddler at the time being thrown out of the car. I was screaming, my husband told me. He woke me, alarmed. I remembered the dream vividly but even when he asked me what had happened, I couldn't say. I think my subconscious mind had registered the thought - 'I love you so much I couldn't bear to lose you' - and the human mind being what it is - my subconscious had insisted that I visit my worst nightmare.

Between then and now, up until the past week, I don't specifically recall any other nightmares. The first one was revolting. It is just too revolting to write down. I recall breathing very rapidly and deeply, trying to expunge the images. I think it related to insecurities about a comment made to me and my mind in slumber made it a million times worse than the reality.

I had let that dream go;  just managed to release myself from that awful nightmare when I had a nightmare last night far, far worse. I was in an Asian society trying to aid children who were being tortured in various ways when that scene altered to a group of us being told that a local person could pick one of us (all Europeans of some kind) and they'd be safe, but if an Asian person didn't pick a European it would spell death.

I wasn't picked and that relates, I bet, to the fact that I know that I'm not the life of the party. Dozens of people would be picked for popularity before they'd get to me. My mind refused to accept my fate, and I went about distributing books for the children and such simple tasks until I was directed in some other way. Basically, I was in shock.

Later, those on 'death row', so to speak, were watching visitors leave this place when I saw an opportunity to slip into the row of visitors leaving. I could have easily been noticed but I wasn't noticed, and as I was walking out quietly in the row I saw my brother and his best friend from schooldays arrive. Gosh, even in the dream I registered how thrilled I was that he came to my aid, and that relates to some very intimate conversations we have had lately where we feel much closer to one another.

I would have thought I'd be whisked away by them but in my dream state I was still in mortal danger. Some other women who had tried to escape by lying in the gutter were collected and taken back inside. I saw that happening. How did I see that happening? I don't know. It turns out that I was in a dreadful state, whatever had happened, rather close to death but hanging on, in a drain.

By now, my mind had dealt with all that it could and the heavy breathing started again. I made myself wake. I made myself get up so that I could let go of this wicked nightmare.

Why now? Why are these nightmares occurring to me now? Well, after 50+ years on this planet (closer to 60 really) I've dropped the Pollyanna state of mind. I've come to see what so many others have always known, that it is the human specie that is the most aggressive animal on the planet - that we kill our own.

Like death, which I never wanted to focus on as a child, I haven't wanted to deal with the fact in adulthood that people are aggressive, cruel; nasty; evil at their worst.

Of course, most people are good, kind, loving; well meaning. I still believe that. But the truth is that we are a world of people in conflict; that so many of us demand control; to have our own way no matter what.

Of course, it doesn't help that I am studying script writing right now either.

'Make things more difficult for her.'
'Have them arguing about something.'
'End each scene with (potential) escalating trouble.

This is how our brains work. This is what we want out of our movie watching because this is what we relate to - that our lives are full of conflict and struggle; that to get what we want mountains must be moved first.

Is it any wonder that some girls (and some men) relate to the photograph above - to be loved, cherished, safe; to be in a confined environment where the rules are understood and love is a given. This is peace.