Attention

 I'm aware of power dynamics where it is all, or very close to all, serious. There are lighthearted moments, I don't doubt, but it's so clearly defined that there isn't all that much wiggle room. I had a brief email exchange with one dominant man very recently who seemed to be very much like that. All good, except it's not the style of dynamic that keeps me up at night embodying the thrill of it all; in other words, getting hot and bothered.

To be sure, the fantasies are strict and exacting. It's the fastest route to orgasm, I have to say. I don't doubt that for a moment, which is why it happens that way, not just for me but for countless women. You go where you need to, to get the required result.

In real life, my mind goes to a much more nuanced dance with a dominant man. Think of Lee, in the Secretary here. Remember the last moment when she throws a bug in the bed? Hopefully, I remembered the last few moments correctly. That's the sort of thing I mean. I think of it as a game of sorts where there are rules, there are expectations, but there's also some space for a subtle and oh so erotic seduction of the power.

When I was writing up a contract which we had talked about together at length, which is yet to be looked over and signed by my husband, but will hopefully happen soon, we wanted to think up a fake rule. That is, it wasn't an important rule, what I called 'standing orders' but rather a rule that was a clear indication more power needed to be expressed, and soon.

I have always had trouble thinking up what that would be. My husband gave me a couple of thoughts and in the end, I wrote up that if I left clean laundry on his pillow at night, that was the sign. I liked this in the end because one of the standing orders is that I turn down his side of the bed, and to arrive there and find laundry on the pillow...well, you can't ignore that, can you?

The way these fake rules were explained to me, it's important to understand the cave you are walking into here, and I suppose, the bear that manages the cage you are rattling. There's no part two of the fake rule indicating the consequences of failure to abide. You take what you are given from there on. 

I must say, I do like this. I find this quite the turn on; a mix of hilarity with fear, which definitely floats my boat.

If the power dynamic were all serious, I'm not sure it would entirely suit my slightly irreverent state of mind. All seriousness somehow implies to me that I am morally, intellectually and common-sense wise inferior, which doesn't really...fit. 

It's hard to imagine a life when I didn't sometimes point out, in sweet terms and with a wry smile, that my idea might be better than his. Or, that just maybe he was being a tad too serious.

In younger years, my husband would often say, 'I'm serious'. Of course, I knew that. So, I started calling him 'Mr. Serious' in the hopes he might see a lighter side of the situation. I haven't called him that for many years and he hasn't said he was serious for many years, so maybe that worked.

Now, this is not to say I don't want him to notice any breaches in the contract. If he doesn't notice, if he doesn't give me his attention in this way, well, what's the point? I very much want to be accountable because that's where the arousal sits. There's something about being caged that is so freeing. Did I mention it's about attention for me?

I am fortunate to have had good health overall in my life and especially in the past 30 years, and so it's sort of become normal for my husband to think I have boundless energy. When I do inevitably run out of gas, he's not likely to notice. I have to explain this to him.

There's the infamous moment in Singapore many years ago when I had unbearable pain. We were in the lobby of a lovely hotel awaiting another couple, my husband's head in a newspaper and me fighting waves of period pain unlike anything I had ever experienced. I told him I was going to the pharmacy, but the tablets did nothing to assuage the pain. 

Eventually, I got his attention and told him I was about to faint with the pain. He burst to attention then and engineered my entry into a taxi that took us to our hotel where I promptly went to sleep. (If you are a woman reading this and experience intense period pain, provide yourself with a deep orgasm and this will cut the pain at least in half and allow you to sleep.)

It is with a deep sense of jealousy that I think of women in power exchange with men who can't wait to provide oodles of attention, even if that attention comes holding implements or a laying down of the law. It's attention. It's attention. The dance has begun.

I am inching my way closer to dance, literally speaking. I have found a dance studio close by. Anything somatic. Anything kinesthetic. It's flow, it's movement, it's attending to this moment of this life.

My God, I can't wait to see Nicole Kidman in Babygirl. The shorts have me totally smitten. Nicole said in one interview that playing that woman was a highlight of her life. She might have even gone further.

It's not often a woman gets the chance to submerge herself in the role of a babygirl, a slut, a bimbo, a slave, whatever floats your boat. It's so exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. It's complete authenticity in my case. For me too, it's one of the highlights of my life.

I said to my husband recently, 'I don't know why I am the way I am. I am some sort of throwback to a much more ancient civilization.' Honestly, life would have been simpler if I was not this way but there's not a thing I can do about it.

I must surely have written about the time I was taken into trance and lived, for a precious hour or so, the life of a slave girl. There wasn't a single moment when I wasn't living and loving that life. Even being in trouble, and that's not exactly an easy place for me, since I don't like to displease (and therefore get told off in no uncertain terms), is a super-hot memory.

There was, however, one second where I was ever so slightly out of trance. The hypnotist said this. "And sometimes you will be punished, but that's okay, because you will still be getting attention.'

I had one side of my head resting on an ottoman as I was listening to him telling me this story, and I smiled. He had my number.  This, dear reader, is the truth.