The next chapter of my life

 In my new life on my own, it's busy and involved, but I have made time to explore what my future might look like. I have a plan to simplify life so that I can engage as much as I would like with my family and take up opportunities as they come my way. I am not there yet, very much in the interim stage of sorting that out, but that's the plan. 

I am also committed not to wait for that day on the other side of this work to be happy. I make space every day for what some call 'a pocketful of happiness'. I am rarely triggered and seem to be jogging along in a relatively peaceful place the vast majority of the time.

I am aware of the advice of Peter Crone that we don't know what the future will bring. Will I ever have unconditional love again? Some other form of love again? Something else entirely? I don't know the answer to these questions and there's liberation in letting go of knowing. In other words, I do my best to dwell in the 'now'. I have no idea how I will manage to pull off all that has to be done, it's a truckload of responsibility I have never had before on my own, but I am kind of amazed at my ability to stay strong and centred through this storm.

In terms of embracing my erotic authenticity I have grown in leaps and bounds. It was pointed out to me that there is no specific time to consider a new partner or maybe just an erotic partner. It's not the easiest venture for me but nor is it impossible. I have embraced the fact that I have assets to offer in term of what I can bring to someone's life and that sort of inner confidence feels good.

It's a whole other way to view life. I have had my children; I have been married. I don't need to do that again and that offers up possibilities never thought of before. I am going slow, of course, but it's a nice thought that I might have a 'friend' to explore my inner passions. As I said, it's baby steps for now.

Attention

There was something about the feel of this particular morning that reminded me of the time when I was thinking about 'coming out' as a spanko. At that time it was a hectic life;  three children at school and one at college, and a husband who was travelling regularly, working late into the night and completely absorbed in his business endeavours. There wasn't time to scratch myself until these feelings surfaced and refused to be pushed down. The children noticed that there had been a change in me. I was quite suddenly fixated on 'research' on my laptop and dinner time was getting later and later. I seemed somewhat scattered. I remember that the older children told their Dad that, that something was going on with Mum.

There was no doubting the time was drawing near when I would say, in one form or another, 'Hey, remember me, the woman that you married a while back? I want attention and I want it in a particular way!' Actually, what I did do was go out and buy some beautiful lingerie and stockings so that when I did make my announcement I'd look particularly fetching. I was stacking the cards in my favour, definitely, and it paid off.

Fast forward to early this morning and you'd find me awake at dawn due to the whining of the dog. At such times I often turn to tumblr. I'm rather excited about my secondary blog there which covers my spiritual, as opposed to sexual journey. I have separated them out because I'm not finding that they blend together as well as they used to in my mind. Whilst cindi is the entity aiming for surrender both sexual and spiritual, I am finding I can make better sense of this with the two journeys having their own home. The real work is to be done in the spiritual domain, that's what I am discovering; an acknowledgment that, if I can control my mind, I can control everything around me, including my desire to give up control!

Of course, this doesn't sound too 'surrender' like, but it actually is. If one surrenders such that they can accept people as they are, maintain a non-judgmental approach, a peaceful mind, happiness abounds. It's not so much that we have emotions that is the problem but that we can allow negative emotions to control us. To this end, happiness is indeed a learned skill and one that we can hone. But, having said all that, understanding full well that my happiness is my responsibility, I realized this morning that I felt rather like I used to do when immersed in motherhood. I felt like I would rather enjoy some attention on me.

Of one thing I am quite sure, that I am attracted to men who aim to succeed and who work hard to achieve success in whatever arena they choose to compete, and who take their romantic relationships seriously. I remember as a child noticing the friends of my parents and I'd wonder why it was the case that some men were so doting on their wives while other men seemed to have missed that gene. I would not have called my father a doting man exactly but I do remember the day that he bought my mother a very expensive fur coat (back in the day that's what doting men did) with the monies he had saved on his weekly bets. He was a $2 punter mostly but his number system would pay off every now and again with a big win and he'd put this money aside to splurge on my mother. Somewhere in my adolescent brain, it sparked a desire for a man to dote on me, to love me enough to have me in his mind; to have my pleasure and happiness on his mind.

Years ago when we lived in the US, my husband and I were having an indulgent weekend in NYC together and we wandered into Armani, I think it was. The man there knew his trade and he had me slide into a gorgeous coat. I loved it for it made me feel very beautiful. My husband loved it too, I knew that, but the man wouldn't trade, and once a trader always a trader.

I never expected the coat in the first place, had no difficulty living without it of course, but my husband brings it up every so often, that he should have bought that coat. He knows, deep down, as such men know deep down that they aren't buying a coat. Rather, they are giving a clear signal that their wives mean everything to them and this extravagant gift is the symbol of that realization. Of course it doesn't have to be Armani. My husband bought me a hand made summer cotton hat in Nara in Japan and I felt quite adored in that moment. Still, I think you know what I mean about an 'over the top', once in a lifetime sort of gift. It's incredibly special experience in a woman's life.

In my roundabout way I am trying to convey the sense that I think it may very well be the case that submissive women are particularly partial to attention in various forms. Access to our bodies  and to our minds is part of that attention. Using our bodies and submissive state of mind to get attention is what we instinctively know to do.

Right from the beginning, back at college, my husband had his obsessions and I had mine. He'd bicycle off to check on his experiments whilst I read on into Joyce, or Virginia Woolf or Ibsen. It is the same today and then we come together to carry on with the conversation that has been endless for 40 years now - he on the markets, politics and the economy; me on literature, psychology and education. Our relationship was designed around a good dose of independence and interdependence. It was never designed for dependency on my part. He can reign in his attention on me for periods of time but he could never supervise me continually and really I couldn't handle that. Introverts like me need 'me time', introspection time; reflection time. Also he talks 100 words to my one, so I need alone time.

It was whilst reblogging posts for Cindi Surrenders that I realized something important. 'The Awakened State' said this in response to a reader's question: "What we need to acknowledge here is that when we are stuck in cycles of resistance it is because we are not letting go of what we cannot change."

Years ago, when I felt I needed a different form of loving, when I craved that, what I asked for was very clear: spank me. After that, we explored my ability to completely surrender such that I experienced these amazing highs to which I continue to aspire. The lower I got, the higher I became. It was a transformation I adored and still adore. I am fortunate that he is willing to take me on that ride, when he chooses. I have a passion for Kyoto not just because it is one of the most serene and stunning cities I have ever visited but because he was so convincingly sadistic one afternoon. My God, I loved/hated it, and my body stayed on fire for days. We can do this very well so long as he makes up his mind as to what he wants. For Pete's sake don't give me choices. cindi hasn't a clue what to do with choices.

Once these sorts of episodes are over however, I need to return to being me; absorbed in my own interests; happy to take care of myself. This is where the problem may have lain; that I wasn't doing particularly well with that. He put it eloquently to me this way: 'You need to have something to chew on because I don't want you chewing on my ass.'

He is a little bit like a 'mad professor' type. He'll basically work until I say that 'dinner is ready' or 'it's time to leave for the theatre now', or 'I need to get your okay on the apartment I want to rent in Bali'. Why, oh why, haven't I walked in to say, 'It's time for my spanking now' or 'I want to be used now please'? Well, I know why. It feels more authentic to me for him to just do it, like he did in Kyoto. But, in line with the above, that's not the way we have done so many things. Apart from big ticket items over which he has pretty much carte blanche, I do the other stuff and keep him briefed. Why not my sexual needs? (I am trying to convince myself here.)

I can't change who he is. He can't change who he is. I can't change who I am. Perhaps he could change who I am, but he has no desire to do so, particularly. Although...he does want me to take responsibility for having adequate quantities of sex; to ensure that happens. This is our sore point; that just like I have to ensure he gets to the theatre or whatever on time by calling him, I am meant to call him for sex. This strikes me as entirely unreasonable, but again, why I am resisting what I cannot change? Why don't I just initiate, get the ball rolling, because he does definitely respond to that.

At the moment I am hooked on a few auditory files of the 'hypnosis' variety. I love them all but the male on one particular file has this way of putting me to sleep that is just so dreamy. He tells me to be 'empty and obedient' and he lulls me into this erotic state of hypnosis as if he knows exactly what buttons to push, as if he knows me personally. It's hard to keep away from that file. It's hard to not have more attention. I most certainly enjoy the flashlight honed in on me. That's it in a nutshell.

Following along

Holidaying in a foreign country gave my husband and I the opportunity to immerse ourselves in a bubble of bliss. We very quickly and painlessly established a comfortable dynamic whereby he instigated a plan and I followed along with that plan.

The decision to go to Japan was a joint decision. I asked if he might like an adventure, to explore Japan, and he quickly indicated he would like that. We discussed parts of Japan we'd like to get to know better and then I made the arrangements. Once there, he did the reading about that locale and determined where we would go and what we would do. This enabled me to have the experience of being led through the day and I thrived on this arrangement.

There were three small experiences where this arrangement was put to the test and the rules laid down emphatically. In the first experience we were at a Buddhist garden just outside the Bamboo Forest of Kyoto when I lost track of my husband. He was there one minute and gone the next. In a 'bimbo' mindset practically all the time on this holiday - a huge blast for me - I got it into my head that he had popped into the toilet that was close by, so I did too, only to find on emerging that he still wasn't visible. I moved on in an effort to catch up, which, of course, was the mistake. In fact, the garden was bigger than I anticipated and instead of making my way back to the Entry gate where I thought he'd go, I found myself at the Exit gate. I then decided to make my way around the garden again until I reached the point where we had started but time was going by and anxiety was building.

I spotted him by the big pond eventually, exactly where I had lost sight of him, and seeing that he was mad with me, made the next mistake of trying to explain what I was trying to achieve, instead of expressing my apology for the whole episode. I was meant to stay close, and if lost, to stay still. Very simple.

I did express my regret, of course, but not fast enough or with adequate expression of a sense of sorrow at the disruption to the day. A 'telling off' ensued. After several minutes where he chose to walk faster than me, me tagging along at a suitable distance, I asked if I could hold his hand.

'Not yet,' he said.

More expressions of regret were made on my part. We reached another place he had planned to visit. The Japanese lady came and got us when we began to embark on a tour of the garden without having our tea first (rules are rules in the Japanese mindset), and it was over tea that the ice was broken such that when I pointed out a beautiful book of the garden, he bought it for me.

The experience of losing sight of him, and his upset about it all, had me keeping extra close to him from there on. I stuck like glue to him in fact until at least a week later when I lost sight of him at 'The Great Buddha' in Nara. There was a relatively light crowd when we arrived and we were hanging out at the entrance, entranced at the scale of the statue. I walked three steps towards an example of the gold etching on the statue, when a mob of people on various tours arrived together. My husband walked straight past me without realizing it and for a good ten minutes I stood at that spot awaiting his return.

I wasn't concerned about being in trouble. I was just concerned full stop. My commonsense told me that we'd meet up in just a minute or two, but I could feel my body's response at the anxiety of being separated and all I wanted was his presence. When he returned to me, he was only mildly cross, but  somehow over the course of the holiday I'd become deeply attached to him and didn't like at all that something could have happened to him.

In the third experience, we had just exited a subway car in downtown Tokyo when he said to me, 'I had to turn around to make sure you had followed me off the train'. I replied, 'I'm watching you and you're watching me'.  It prompted him to say, 'If that had happened and you were still on the train, I'd make my way back to the hotel and wait for you.' I nodded, but something about my response registered a query in his mind.

'You've got money, right?'
'Not a note. Not a coin,' I replied.
'You mean, you haven't ever had money on the trip?'
'Nope'
'But, why didn't you ask for money?'
'Because I didn't want money. I've loved not having money.'

He looked at me, as if the reality of his wife's mindset had quite suddenly fully registered in his brain.

'You really do want an Owner, don't you? You really want me to make the decisions.'
'I do.'

He wanted to know if I had touched a note at all.

'Do you remember when I asked if I may have the notebook at the monk's stall in Koyasan, and if he could write the message of the Healing Buddha in it? The note book was 1400 yen and the message 400 yen, and you handed me a 2000 yen note to buy it? Well, that was the one time I handled a note and I remember the feeling in my hand, this note of currency, this real world, big girl note. But, as I handed it over and told the monk what I wanted, I felt very small indeed, more like a very little girl. He put in my hand a 200 yen coin as my change, and I handed it back to you. Do you remember?'

'I do remember. I remember thinking it an odd thing to do. I remember wondering why you didn't put the coin in your purse.'

'Because I didn't want one single coin in my purse. I wanted to stay in my bubble of bliss, completely reliant on you.'

The next day we visited Roppongi Hills, nowadays an upmarket part of Tokyo where the smart set hang out and purchase exquisite goods.

'Is there something that cindi would like? (He always called me 'cindi' on this holiday and I so appreciated that.) cindi should point it out to Owner if she sees something...perhaps a cocktail ring, or something else?'

But, honestly, I had what I wanted. The opportunity to melt into this dynamic with him was all I wanted, save for a few inexpensive souvenirs of these wonderful three weeks together; a little bowl or plate here and there was more than enough for cindi.

Often, he'd consult me on a purchase, but my response was nearly always the same, 'It is up to you.' One time he said to me, 'You can have  input. If you don't tell me what you are thinking, then you have to accept my decision.' I took the point, but the overarching point was that 'bimbo' was more than happy to accept his decisions. This is when bimbo is the most present and the most content, being her (it) self.

We're home now. We talked about keeping the happiness going, but he quite rightly pointed out that reality was likely to pull us back into the real world of business and endeavor at times. Perhaps, I suggested, we could go together to see a film on 'cheap ass Tuesdays', to keep the pleasure of life flowing. He agreed, we could.

I find myself asking what procedure could be put into place whereby this sense of being led might continue in my life. I can honestly say I get little pleasure in a purchase made unilaterally for myself. Should I, perhaps, engage him in conversation about a possible purchase, or show him the purchase with the tags attached, to ensure he likes what I have bought myself?

I'm incredibly happy and content and I just hope it can last. My true nature has been able to be expressed for a goodly amount of time and the last thing I want is to lose the wonderful gains we have achieved on a holiday I will never forget.

Control

In the past several days I've been observing my husband; watching him and thinking about him; looking for patterns; when he is most and least comfortable; what pleases him; what makes him anxious; what frustrates him.

I thought about his life as a whole. We were born in the same year and I found myself thinking about my childhood in comparison with his childhood. He grew up on a farm and he said to me as recently as this weekend how much he loved his young childhood, especially before he went away to school. He loved everything about it, really. He loved the machinery and the motor bikes; the herding of cattle and sheep; being with his father to do a chore outside or with his mother in the kitchen while they made scones or cakes or whatever was on the menu for that day.

My husband had a firm foot in both arenas of the farm. He is, at heart, an outdoor boy who revels in the countryside but at the same time, he loved his mother very, very dearly and his time with her was very precious to him. She took the children to horse shows on the weekends and we still have to this day the wad of ribbons that they won there. I think his father was demanding on a young lad who probably needed to take his time developing. As bright as he is, with a MBA from a prestigious learning institution, his early years at school were not particularly happy.

He lost his mother far too early in life to cancer and from there the issues only grew. He was forced to deal with a stepmother immediately; a lovely woman but no substitute for his mother, and very quickly he had step brothers and sisters who demanded the attention of their parents. He was forced to grow up very quickly and accept responsibility for himself, which he did.

We met at university; in college, where we were both boarding. He claims that I seemed a bit arrogant but I think he quickly realized that it wasn't arrogance; it was shyness and introversion. Anyway, he seemed different to the other boys I had ever met and I liked that he was assertive and that he could make plans for us as well as settle me down if I was upset or insecure.

From the absolute very beginning of our relationship he worried about the farm, his father, his marriage, their children and what would become of them and when, in final year, he decided on a career, he chose a path that would enable him, all going well, to make good money. He took responsibility for them very seriously and long after we married and had children of our own he continued to worry, to consult with them and to support them.

We were both very open with one another that we wanted a family. Having only one sibling two children seemed right to me but my husband wanted four children and that is, in fact, (surprise, surprise!) what happened.

We grew up in an era where two parents going out to work was a choice that not everybody made. When we had our first child there was precious little spare cash, but when push came to shove, I couldn't leave my son. I tried Early Childhood Learning Centers, of course, but it was all so hopeless. He'd cry when I'd leave and I told my boss that I couldn't do it. He wasn't a fan of mothers of young children working, and we agreed it wasn't worth it; not for the money; not for the stress and guilt.

Another child was on the way soon after that, we moved overseas, another child came along, we moved back home and then the last was born here. If I had wanted to go out to work (and some days I truly did!) I couldn't. There was so much work and so many people who needed to be attended to. It was best, we felt, for him to attend to creating money while I attended to keeping us all happy, well and thriving.

There's absolutely no doubt that he shouldered the responsibilities of creating wealth. A large family is a very expensive proposition these days and he wanted them to have the education we had; at private schools; the best. It doesn't come cheap, especially not in the past decade.

Added to his responsibilities, towards his extended family and to us, came a deep need to prove himself. When things happen early on and a doubt is seeded in the mind, there is a need to prove yourself and my husband yearned for success for more reasons than procuring cash. He's not an indulged person and nor does he need that much. He does need to be immersed in exciting ventures and ideas and he needs success as an indicator to his family and himself that he has overcome the battles.

My husband often talks about being passionate; that to achieve you need to have passion; to immerse yourself in something with a never-say-die approach. He believes that obstacles can be overcome and even if you aren't good at something that shouldn't stop you. He believes that people should do things not necessarily because they enjoy them but because they need to be done. He has a strong work ethic and when engaged, my husband puts 100% of himself into the task.

I confess what my husband is passionate about often leaves me cold. I can be frustrated at a decision by the Government but he almost takes it personally. One night last week, we happened, the children and I, to raise our protest at language being used by other political leaders to describe the Prime Minister and therein ensued a debate so lively that I shudder to think what the sweet mathematics tutor in the next room thought of our behaviour. He is passionate about life; he has strong opinions, to the point where I said to our our oldest son as he and I  washed up, "No more politics now. That's out as a topic of family conversation!" and he agreed.

With this much sense of responsibility; this much passion for life, science, medicine, politics; what have you; of wanting to achieve and have success;  I wonder if I must accept that my husband, whilst loving me dearly, doesn't need to find and express his passion in me.

Of course, he sometimes does. There are cycles and he returns to me, but the thought of topping me regularly, or organizing me or giving me rules or even playing with me regularly is, I think, another responsibility that is one too much in his life, and in his head.

It is important to remember where we started. When we started our lives together, he was much the same as he is now. He hasn't changed. Nor, have I changed. It was lonely for me from the outset. I always knew that something was missing, that my needs weren't being met, but I didn't know how to put them into words that he understood. He would praise me to others, explaining how I had my own interests and how we didn't encroach on one another. He seemed so content with the arrangement whereas I was just confused.

Well, eventually, as you may know by now, I explained myself in its entirety to him and he certainly enjoyed the path that I took him on and on occasions, when the cycle comes around, he still does. But, he'll never be one to give me rules or ensure that rules are followed or aid my submissive nature that way. He can give me wonderful experiences but he can't give me that owned feeling, day by day.

Now, I have lost much sleep over this dilemma because as I allowed my submissive nature air and expressed my needs, over which I have little control, the desire for more and more control grew. For me, it's not something that I can express from time to time and thrive. My nature is with me around the clock. I needed to think very carefully about what to do; I needed some resolution of the dilemma in my mind.

Let me say, without a shadow of a doubt, leaving my marriage is out of the question. We are life partners and neither of us has any wish to bring to a close a partnership that has been a happy and fulfilling one.

Nor can I accept that I be put in the situation of asking each and every time I feel the need for some act of Dominance from him. I can't see how that is a functional suggestion and believe me, I have tried to take it on. In my opinion, either his desire to provide some form of control is there or it is not and if it is not, I see no point in manipulating that lack of desire or asking him to artificially turn it on on my behalf.

Rather, it seems to me, it is better to accept my husband with the nature that God and circumstances gave him and to trust that the wheel will turn; that we will again, as we have thousands of times before, have experiences that feed my submissive soul.

In an ideal world, given what I know now about myself, yes, of course, I'd be with a man who relishes controlling me, but few of us live in an ideal world and I can't waste my life wishing for something that I can't have. Nor, can I have any assurance that this outcome isn't what it was always meant to be. How can I know for sure that if I had waited long enough to marry to know my true self that I hadn't fallen into the hands of someone who ultimately did me harm? How can I know that this is not the path that was intended for me in this life?

Along the way, I learned strategies that aid me, day by day, enormously. The bimbo mindset, the anal training, the communion with my self all soothe my soul. I still have moments of divine peace and fulfillment. I still am happily married. I enjoy my life. I have wonderful friends. I'm lucky that way.

Courage

As I learn more and grow, progress and alter, I feel I know quite clearly what I would want to have. This, in fact, makes for far more challenge than I have ever had before because I know better than ever before that there is a big gap between what I would like to have and what I can have.

I see my husband trying to give me what I want and in his efforts to do so I also see that it is an effort he puts in for me. His focus isn't in it. He does (and probably must) maintain his focus on getting better. Ideally, he'd prefer that I look after myself and demonstrate empathy; be strong and stoic; patient and understanding; just that. This is not a time for a wanting and needy submissive but a time for a wife to exhibit strength.

I do wonder if it is time I 'let go' of what I want and focus more on what is. There is this sense that the writing here and the tendency to want something too much is causing me too much angst; far too much distress. It doesn't mean that my desires have changed but the relentless beating of my reality is so at odds with my dreams and fantasies that it has simply begun to hurt.

It is one thing to know that you heart beats faster and there is a lighter spring in your step when you feel your nature and can express that nature -  that you can live as you were meant to live - and another to understand that this part of your nature has no real current place to exist. To know that nature and what the expression of that nature can do and to not be able to express that nature is too incongruous for my mind to handle right now.

We have briefly discussed this and there is no easily identifiable answer except to say that first of all, he needs to get well. In his own mind the solution lies in his insisting that I become more involved. He very much wants me to come to him and tell me when I am in need; when I need him. I see his point of view and it may well work but I feel the hugest reluctance to do this and I have told him this. Still he insists. He says it is what he wants but I register this thought with heavy heart. I have only ever wanted what people have wanted to give to me. This directive goes against the grain of everything I know about myself - to go away and bleed alone when I am hurt.

Perhaps what I am experiencing is what all women experience when their husbands alter or grow unwell. As much as you want to aid them and empathize with them, your heart is in mourning for the life you once had and the man you once had and abject fear controls your responses and the thoughts in your mind.

In my mind, one must always have hope that things will turn around. I have always woken up feeling hopeful. Yet, in the past weeks I have woken only half aware that my mouth is forming the word hopeless. Is this now hopeless? Is it time to give up?

Well, I'm better than that and stronger than that but there are some days when I do wonder where this journey has taken me and whether the price I have had to pay is too high. But then we're in the final days of a three week  school holiday vacation where I have had precious little time to get on with my own work and maybe you are reading the words of someone who is desperate for some privacy and a little peace.

cindi has no control, yay!

We settled into our roles so beautifully whilst we were on our little holiday. It didn't happen automatically. As much as I wanted it to happen automatically, there was a transition period of time where I fought letting go of all control. He really needed to take away the control from me. Once he'd done that, it all went very, very well.

My body needed a lot of use and he needed to use me voraciously for his own purposes as well. There was a lot of blind folding and sensory deprivation; a lot of touching and handling every last crevice and every last hole until I vaguely heard him at one point say, "you're just like putty". I needed that.

One early evening, he used me for hours and I found my mind had settled on the pleasure of some time to myself whilst I showered. It was not to be and when I let out a slight groan at knowing that fact, he pushed me harder. I was to keep my hands on my head if I didn't want to feel a dozen hard whacks of the leather paddle and whilst I knew that I didn't want any more of that and that I definitely would leave my hands on my head whilst he did whatever he wanted to do, I could feel my mind struggle with having to obey longer. It was that tendency to want to obey only on my own terms that he wanted to eradicate.

I loved this. I loved that he had pushed the point and taken me to a place that I always want to go but can find hard to locate.

He gave me an ultimatum going forward. He told me that it was now my responsibility to come to him and ask at least twice a week for what I wanted. I could ask for what I needed. It could be a spanking or a caning or use. I needed to, must ask, or there would be consequences.

He seems to have decided in his own mind that he has to get me more involved in my own demise. He says that is where I go wrong; that I go hide under a rock when I feel deprived and underprivileged. That's entirely right, of course. This web journal is loaded down with evidence to support that thesis!

Of course, coming home isn't easy for us. After a gorgeous morning of intense lovemaking and some final photographs of our dear holiday destination, it was time to return to family life and we needed to hit the ground running - prepare a meal, get the youngest child off to the theater and some time later we attended the concert he acted in. It was brilliant to see him having so much fun on stage but by the time I hit the bed, I was overwhelmingly tired.

A new day dawns. There's a mass of academic work to get through, my mother arrives tomorrow for a few days because I bought tickets to take her to an art exhibition, and the house needs to be cleaned...the dogs need to be groomed and have their annual shots, there's food to cook...life goes on...

This is our greatest challenge. With four (darling) children spread out over a fairly length time period, we need to find the energy (and money) for all of them whilst we try to hang onto our own personal and very important kinky relationship.

This morning, after I dropped off number 4 child at school, I headed off to the market with the dogs in the back seat and I thought to myself how manic we all are zooming about in our (often fancy) cars around my neighborhood, chasing money and status and heaven knows what else. After Tasmania, it all seemed so pointlessly restless and frantic. I had to really slow myself down too to not be annoyed at situations that weren't entirely suitable to me and my mission for the morning. How terribly egocentric we become in our cars in this modern life of ours!

I'm reminded as I sit here of the last hug my youngest son gave me last night. Understanding that I was a bit frustrated that his (brand new) tap shoes have gone missing at the theater, he said to me,

"It will all be right in the end."

I had to smile because it was so darn silly. Here was the supposed OCD kid telling his supposedly not OCD mother that it would all be right in the end, because he knows I need to hear that. I have all these balls in the air, you see, and I am terribly fussy about keeping there all up there in their rightful place. Woe betide the day that one falls down! But, so what?! Balls have a tendency to fall and I (and maybe you, dear reader) have to understand the law of gravity.  Control is entirely an illusion.

Do you see now how vital it is that control is taken away from me? I'm a control freak! 'Every post has to be a winner' is how one yoga friend puts it about me. It is a huge service for someone to put me in a position whereby they can say:

"Hmmmm....looks like cindi has no control at all..."

  

Perfectionism + Procrastinaton = Control

I’m writing this dressed in very old clothes. The reason why I am dressed in very old clothes is that I intend to paint the garage. I’ve hated this old brown brick garage at the holiday house for ten years and a year ago I convinced my husband to paint it a mellow shade of white.

 

We went into town and chose the colour. It was mercilessly easy. I remember thinking it odd that it was so easy. Back home, I got into my old clothes. Of course, I have heard my husband say many times that preparation is everything and so I accepted that I needed to wait for him to do this to his satisfaction. As I recall, I went back inside and did other things that day.

The next day, I donned my old painting style clothes again but he said that he thought it best that he do the painting. I recognized his need for control; for perfection and order and I could clearly see that in  his mind, if he were to pass over a smidgeon of control to me, even under tight supervision of my job, it was going to cause him a lot of distress. I went back inside and he painted a very small section of the garage before we went back to the city. My wish to paint the ugly garage would have to wait until next summer.

Fast forward twelve months and I sit here typing in my old clothes. Yesterday, I asked if I may paint the garage and in an irritated way he responded, “Yes. Yes, you can paint it tomorrow.”

I woke today to discover that some men had arrived to do a construction job. But, I can be a bit dim sometimes and I didn’t make the connection right away – that these men threatened my ability to paint. On went the old painting clothes.

“May I please paint the garage today?”

“Well, I don’t want any drips. I don’t want a wall of drips, you understand?”

“Absolutely. I will be very careful. Do you think you could set me up now?”

“I am focusing on doing this first,” he responded (He was reading a book.)

I thought it wise not to say anymore in the hope that he meant he just wanted to get to the end of the chapter which I could see was close at hand. About 10 seconds later he slammed the book shut.

“I can’t stand it!” he said.

I thought he was going to say that he couldn’t stand that I was badgering him but what he meant was that he couldn’t stand the fact that the men weren’t doing their task with the precision and perfection that he would apply to task.

Off he went to talk to them. It was clear he was in no hurry to set me up and I am not competent enough, he made clear, to stir the paint can well enough. It was one of the reasons he gave for telling me I had to wait to be set up.  Whilst waiting I sent an email off to my tutor, got onto the Discussion Board and got involved there; made the bed; made lunch; read my book.

Time wore on. My husband returned, not entirely satisfied but not as agitated either. He ate the sandwich I had made for him. We chatted.

“May I please paint the garage now?” I asked sweetly.

“Yes. Yes you can. Just a minute.”

Half an hour has gone by and he has picked up the book and is reading again.

And I ask you, what do you make of this?

A. He is stalling for time. He has no intention of allowing me to paint the garage.

B. He intends to paint the garage himself one day in the future but certainly not to day with me dressed in my painting clothes.

C. He is a control freak and a perfectionist. 

D I am a saint.

E. All of the above.

Calling for volunteers

Part of the requirements of my journalism subject that goes towards my Masters of Writing is to write a 2000 to 3000 word article on a subject of my choice. Of course, 'power exchange relationships in today's world' was a subject choice that sprang immediately to mind, despite the obvious issues. I don't think there is a problem with the topic or material. The people that run the course are already 'onto me' with what I have already written in the course and they have shown no objections. Nor is there an issue with appropriateness for publication. The article could be written with, say, readers of 'The Australian' newspaper in mind; the Sunday magazine.

What is concerning me is that I need to collect "expert opinion", but then again, I have the name of an authority, an Australian actually, and I'll check, but that should count all right. However, if anyone reading this does happen to be an expert on power exchange relationships, it would be marvellous to hear from you.

The other concern I have is that I would need to interview people - people who have, of their own volition, consented to a power exchange - either taking control in the relationship, or, giving it up. I have not formulated any well honed questions as yet but they would centre around: why you want to be in a power exchange relationship, the pros and cons, any difficulties that creates in your mainstream life; if you feel you have to keep a veil over how you live, if it affects the children or family, what your life looks like on a day to day level; if you feel you are happier than in a regular, vanilla marriage/relationship; what you do to reinforce the dynamic; that sort of thing.

I'd be awfully grateful to hear from people who wouldn't mind answering some questions for me. I could send you questions that you could answer and send back to me; or we could email or chat or skype; whatever works well for both of us. In my article I could just refer to you as Pete from Ontario or Anne from Chicago. You'd be completely anonymous, unless of course, you want to be identified in another way.

If you can offer me your assistance in this way please email me or leave a comment. Many thanks.

The vital ingredient

My husband's desire for BDSM containment practices waxes and wanes. The times he binds me in some way are rare and tend to relate to a time when I am "used". I'd prefer it otherwise. I love those evenings when he comes into the bedroom and I am already in bed and he ties my wrists together for the whole night, for example. He might go back to his study for a few hours but the benefits for me are considerable, even when I am alone. I sleep extraordinarily blissfully when constrained in some way and I get the pleasure of being sexually aroused all night but without anything that I can possibly do about it (sort of). For reasons that can't be well explained, the fact that he has chosen to do this for me and to me fills me with a deep sense of being loved.

Every now and then, he ties my wrists together and then my ankles and then some rope between my wrists and ankles. In this way, I am in the foetal position on my side, my left hand side if you prefer more detail, and in this position and after several hours, I am not at all comfortable. Yet, I am entirely comfortable really, comfortable in my discomfort and I find this position deeply, deeply arousing. I sleep well but fitfully. I drift in and out of a sexual sort of consciousness whereby I am aware of every fibre of my being. My head is full of sexual sensation but not a thought can really be produced. I am simply, a sexual object.

Maybe only a handful of times, he has bound my whole middle section of my body, just as Popeye did for Olive Oil, round and round my body with the rope. This is quite marvellous. I get to watch him at work, which I love. From a farm and an able seaman he is perfectly at home handling rope and I find watching him quite hypnotic.

Busy as he is, occupied with many business projects at once, I rather doubt that he has much notion that I would dearly, dearly loved to be tied up and that tonight would be good. I don't think that thought has entered his radar. I know, and I know full well that I would only need to walk into his study later this evening, or mention to him on the couch when we have a cup a tea after dinner that I would love to be all tied up in bed this evening and he would do this for me. If I were to ask nicely...not complain that it has been a while or anything vaguely closely to any sort of criticism...I feel almost certain that he would do this for me. My happiness is something that he wants for sure.

And yet, I cannot guarantee you, sitting here at my desk in amongst making the dinner that I can do this. It seems agony to have to ask for the things I want. I can't think of anything harder. What's hard about it, you may well ask.

May I please have a spanking?
Would you please bind my wrists together tonight?
Could you please come to bed and use me?

They are simple sentences. I don't think he would say "no" especially since he knows how hard it is for me to ask him for these things.

But, why? Why is it so hard?

As irrational and just plain dumb as this is going to sound, I am going to say it anyway. The reason I find it almost impossible to ask for anything is because in my heart of hearts I believe that if he loved me enough, he would do these things for me without me needing to ask for them. He would be aware of the distress it causes me for him to not do them and he would come to me of his own volition and contain me; correct me; love me. When he doesn't come to me to do those activities that I associate with love and care, I feel abandoned and rejected. To come to him is to acknowledge that abandonment and intense vulnerability that it is to be me.

Yes, those feelings would disappear the moment he resolved the situation by responding to my request. Yes, I can resolve non-compliance by "getting off my bimbo haunches and executing", for example. But, I often feel on my own and on my own it can be easier to wallow in a sense of lack of love than it can be to solve the problem. I like to be forced to do things because I interpret the force as love and care. He cares enough to enforce the requirement. I matter. I matter to him.

On the weekend my husband spanked me quite firmly and shortly after that in the car on the way to do an errand together he said, "You really liked that spanking, didn't you? It has settled you." I am not great at talking to him about my responses and I simply said, "I haven't made a secret of the fact that spankings make me happy." The spanking did indeed carry me through the day happily. Even being told to mind my manners makes me feel loved (so long as he is not angry with me. I deplore anger directed at me.)

This incredibly profound sense of vulnerability inside of me has roots so deep within my psyche that I can tap into them but do nothing to alter them. I am capable of feeling enriched; loved; adored; wanted but at the same time I can question what is lovable about me. It is a horrible sense of being unworthy; different; not good enough that I fight with most days.

Then, I am used or corrected or contained; loved; and the sunshine comes out. I beam with pleasure; find love and light in everything I see and touch; feel an immense sense of love inside of me and surrounding me. I feel worthy of the attention and love.

This 'asking' business is that important; a skill I must hone. Nothing could be more important to my state of mind.

Well treated

It is several months ago since the day that I walked into my doctor's office - at least six months ago actually - and said that I couldn't get control of my emotions; that I felt that I just needed to talk to someone about what I was going through. He'd never seen me remotely, vaguely like that. I had always been in control of myself; always knew what I was doing and how to do it. He made note of the new me.

He listened for a while, thought it a good idea that I see someone and had me go home and do a specific online test that would give him direction to make out a "treatment plan" for the psychologist. I did the test purposely whilst my emotional state was raging. I wanted the results to be entirely honest.

Yet, even in that state, the little weird questions thrown in at odd moments were perfectly clear to me:

Do you ever feel that a voice is talking to you? No.

And later,

"Do you feel that you are under any body's control?"

If I answered "no", there were would be no repercussions. If I answered "yes" they would think me slightly mad. I answered "yes". I did feel under some body's control. I was emotional enough not to lie about that.

A few days later, I returned to my doctor to hear him tell me that I was suffering anxiety and that some of my thoughts were perhaps "paranoid". Here we go. Silly, truthful me.

At the psychologist's office, I was subjected to the scrutiny of dozens of questions all trying to get at my sense of things that I was being "controlled". Who was trying to control me and why did I think that way? This was getting a little out of hand.

I told her I knew what this was all about; that I was in a state that day; that I felt that I sometimes had to do things that I didn't necessarily want to do and that I answered the question that way fully aware that there would be questions about it (and made a mental note to say "no" to all such questions when they asked me to take the online test next time).

The fact is that whilst the therapy has assisted me in many ways, enabling me to talk more than anything else; to talk through issues as well as to explore on my own modes of thinking that may not have been beneficial to me, I was never really able to speak to her about the fact that I was being trained as a doll, that I wanted to experience that and that I was intensely aroused by such thoughts. I was never really able to speak to the issues surrounding my sexuality and the enormous sense of power, happiness and contentment I felt in "letting go" in that way. I was never really able to speak to the fact that I was being strongly encouraged to want what the 'dollmaker' wanted; that his wants became my wants; that his wants became my needs; that in fact he was simply bringing to the surface my own internal desires. I simply knew too well that she was writing down what I said and to her intellectually trained mind it was going to sound oh so "unhealthy".

So, I skirted the issues; spoke of my "submissive bubble" and my contentment therein and discovered that her goal became to break the bubble somewhat and encourage me to be more assertive; that the bubble was okay in the bedroom but not elsewhere. I found myself monitoring things to suit all parties. It was becoming hard work. It was useful. I won't say that it wasn't useful but in the end was I simply giving to her what I felt she wanted to have, too?? Ever the good submissive...

Off the top of my head (and I am typing incredibly fast here) I can't explain exactly how the therapy helped me. She said to me the time before last, "I don't have the answer" so I don't think even she could explain exactly how I was helped. But, I was helped. I was steered in certain directions and seeds were sown in my head that enabled me to feel in control of myself; relieved of my anxieties. I recognized my flaws, I suppose; was able to see clearly that I do experience some anxiety and I felt more able to handle it when it did crop up. I recognize it for what it is now and I self-soothe, primarily. If I am feeling particularly able, I ask for what I need - love and attention - and I feel particularly proud when I am able to do that -  a key goal  of my bimbo training, in fact!

The last few years of my life have been so intense, so rich, so challenging, so full of growth, I think I just needed a time out to digest it all and to figure out the lay of the land. Even the therapy at times was intense and believe me, there were days when I wanted to make the call and say to the psychologist I was done now. Thanks, and ciao! She could really annoy me, but I stuck with it and it is probably good that I did.

I think she feels she's done a good job and I would say she has done a good job. But, here's the rub. I'm still the dolli inside. I still prefer to wear dresses and skirts. I still think of my body as a thing to be used (as often as possible please!). I still fantasize in much the same way as I have done for years and I still feel most whole, most complete when I have been nothing more and nothing less than 'the doll' with zero control, inside or outside the bedroom. But, that is going to have to be our secret because if she knew what we knew, it just wouldn't be at all good.

What feels best

I am often told that I am "strong". People will say to me "you are a strong woman". I suppose that I have heard it enough now that I have chosen to believe it.

I think it is true that I am a survivor and more than that, someone who can turn around a difficult situation and make it right. I sometimes have an image of quite literally twisting my head around until it looks at a problem or a situation from a new perspective. I guess you could say that I believe that if you only make the effort to look at a situation with a fresh perspective, the solution is in there somewhere. If all else fails, well then I simply "choose" to be happy. Being sad can be so boring for me and I simply say something to myself along the lines, "Look, it is not that bad. It is actually fine. You are okay." The positive thought just kick starts me and off I go.

I loathe the thought of being a "victim" and I just don't allow myself those sort of indulgences too often or for too long. You are only a victim if you believe you are a victim and I believe that I have the capacity to rise above that sort of thinking. We all do.

I am incredibly proud of my third child. I don't refer to him often because he is a private person and I feel I should respect that, even here in my very private space. But, I will say that I am extremely proud of him. I applaud his ability to see any set back as just that: a setback. He has had his failures but he has never wallowed in them; always immediately planned to resolve the situation; always gets right back on his bike. I don't know where he got his resilience but if we all had what he has, we'd be in very good shape indeed.

But, having said all that, at the heart of the matter is the fact that I am a very gentle and soft person. When I am hurt or feeling low, I feel it down to my toes. In line with my nature, asking for anything is very, very difficult and that includes support, comfort or consolation. It is the Achilles heel of strength unfortunately: the inability to ask for anything at all; to simply soldier on.

Commonsense tells me that one cannot improve a skill unless one practices it and so it must surely go that  I need practice in asking. I understand this as a rational thought and yet it remains an extraordinarily hard thing for me to do. My thinking goes like this: "If he wanted to talk to me, or if he wanted to spend time with me, or if he wanted to use me, then he would. And, if he doesn't do that thing I want, then that tells me he doesn't want to do it, and if he doesn't want to do it, then that's it.  I don't want him to feel obliged to do it. I'll just sit here in the dark and wait."

Reality bites, too. My reality is making me to do more myself; to rely more on my own nouse and to practise independence and competence. It is the opposite of asking: it is saying, just get on with it!

Recognizing my own competence in more areas is not a bad thing. I enjoy expressing my competence on one level. Yet, deep within me I am aware that what I really want is to feel comfort and support: to express my needs and deepest desires; to be the dum dum dolli much more often than I can. Oh dear, but I want that state - what a hole in my heart there can be at times as I crave for that state of  mind!

Once a doll, always a doll. Create the doll and she lives forever. She needs to express herself and so no matter how strong I am, I am also in need; in need of dominant energy. I cannot ask for that but I can remain hopeful that it will come my way. And, when it does, I can feel so much better than able, so much better than competent, so much better than strong. I can feel completely alive.

Asking

When it comes to his business affairs my husband is a micro manager. He is currently editing, drafting and correcting papers in relation to an agreement and trust me when I say that no stone will be left unturned. He will do it and he will do it to the best of his abilities, ensuring that every fact and condition and point is properly stated. His ability to give his complete focus to a task is something you really have to see to believe.

Leading his business life this way depletes him of any desire to micromanage me, and generally speaking that is a good thing because I don't think I would like that level of micromanagement directed at me. If he sees I am doing something in a certain way and he doesn't approve, he tells me but he definitely does not want to have to keep tabs on me. The last thing he needs or wants is to think, "Hmmmm, I wonder if cindi did this and that today, I better go check..." That is just too much like hard work.

Of course, if the dominant person in the equation does not engage adequately with the submissive, something is lost. As Sir J said recently, if it matters to you (you = the dominant), it will matter to her too. I am hoping that once this business deal is wrapped up he can engage with me more and remind me what is important to him and then whatever that is, it will be important to me too. I am rather well trained to obey these days (!) so Sir J's equation makes total sense to me.

All this being the case, it can be necessary for the submissive to make her own rituals and/or rules. Well, perhaps I should back up and say that I do have rules in a general sense. I am expected to maintain our lives in all ways unrelated to business affairs, so one could break that down to say that I tend to the house, the family, the food, the garden and social activities and so on, but it is enough I think to state that the expectation is that I will tend to our non-business affairs, as well as take care of myself and take care of my husband too (and of course the children).

When you have a submissive state of mind, and you want to feel that submission not just in the bedroom but in the core of you, and not just every now and again but many times a day, this can be a problem. Efficiency to please your Owner is fine but it is simply not enough.

I have had a lot of resistance to asking for things for various reasons but I am now finding asking for things a comfort for the above reasons. Asking reminds me of my place and when I feel my place, I feel good.

As I said before, I do the homely things. I cook the meals. Every now and again, it pays for me to put that time into some other activity on a given day. I could easily just dial for some Chinese food and go and collect it but I take pleasure these days in going to my husband's study and saying, "May we please have some take out food tonight? I have to do (this or that)." This pleases him. "Of course," he will say because if I ask nicely for things and the request is within his power, he won't deny it. It gives me a little tingle and that is what I look for; the little tingles in my day.

I am currently considering what else I may ask for: other ways that I can incorporate asking into my day. Would anyone care to share with me what they ask for?

The Subjugation Trap

I am learning a great deal about myself at the present time and how to be a healthy and happy submissive. I am taking the time to chronicle that process here for those people who may benefit from my experiences.

Cognitive behaviour therapy, the only therapy now subsidised by the Australian Government does not focus or allow the time to get into childhood experiences in any great detail, but an article my psychologist gave me at the end of our last session asks the reader to roam over the experience of childhood subjugation.

“Self-sacrificers feel responsible for the well-being of others. As a child, you may have experienced too much responsibility for the physical or emotional welfare of a parent, sister, brother or some other close person...a parent who was chronically ill or depressed. In doing so, you neglect yourself...You are empathic...You feel the pain of others and want to ease their pain...Whoever subjugated you as a child did not force you to do what he or she wanted. Rather, because they were in pain or especially weak, you felt that their needs took precedence over yours.”

I related to those words in a profound way and many memories came back to me, making me realize that I had indeed decided many times over in my life that I needed to be strong and to put my needs aside. In fact, I think I was very good at convincing myself that my needs were being met when in fact I had barely ever explored in my own mind what my needs really looked like.

Eventually, the fact that my needs were not being met led to what I thought was post-natal depression after the birth of my fourth child. In fact, it was more likely a general depression from the extremely high workload, lack of assistance and my inability to express that my needs as an individual simply were not being met.

I feel sure that I made efforts to express the fact that I was feeling snowed under and unhappy but there is no doubt that my “self sacrificing” mode of operating did not allow for me or anyone else to find satisfactory solutions to the immensely busy timetable, the tiredness and the sense that life had become not much more than drudgery. I remember walking into the laundry and seeing all that had to be done and having an image of setting out to climb Mount Everest. I felt I had a Herculean task in front of me.

As much as someone is loved, if they are prepared to “self-sacrifice”, people will allow that; even people who love them. It truly is up to each individual, I have learned through therapy, to establish their needs in their own mind and to express those needs.

Over time, I did what self sacrificers eventually do: I got mad. For a time there, I felt very angry quite a good deal of the time. I didn’t understand why those who loved me were treating me so badly, at the same time as I was unprepared to express what I needed from them.

I’d get mad, eventually blow up and then I would feel guilty that I blew up and I’d go back to being my self-sacrificing self.

“It is part of the subjugation lifetrap for you to believe it is somehow wrong for you to express your needs...Until you become more assertive, anger will continue to be a significant problem for you, even if you are not always aware of its harmful consequences.”

When I finally expressed my needs to my husband several years ago – when I told him that he had married a very kinky girl with particular needs – a lot of my despair evaporated overnight.

Yet, the “self-sacrificing” went on and I continued to believe that I should not really air my own views, opinions and needs. Life seemed to flow better when I acquiesced and I think I thought it was noble to acquiesce, in any case. I think it made me feel a good person.

“In subjugation, there are almost no strong opinions across the board. Whether the issues are big or small – no matter what is at stake – in subjugation there is no strong sense of self.”

Of course, you know that I do have strong opinions because I air them here, with friends and family. But, it is true that I signed documents in the past even though I vehemently disagreed with the decisions being made. I expressed my views but not assertively. I definitely didn’t stand up for myself and what I believed to be right. I relinquished my right to have a say in my own life.

The code of D/s is that the submissive has the right to express herself (or himself) politely but that ultimately, the Dominant will have the deciding vote. Quite honestly, I barely raised an objection at the time. My husband had no real idea of the extreme discomfort under my skin until it was a done deal and I did us all a huge disservice to not express my opinions loud and clear.

This is now water under the bridge. I am now self-aware and I understand where I went wrong. When I told my psychologist that I really, really wanted to visit my daughter over Easter (an ideal time for many reasons) she wanted to make that happen. I told her I thought it was “too late”, an excuse I have often made before as I put my needs lowest on the list.

But, I did go home and think about it and I rang my husband to say that I felt I had made a gross error in judgement; that all my instincts were telling me to go to London and spend a few weeks with our daughter at this time. Within a few days, my husband had bought me a ticket and my daughter was absolutely elated about it. For once, I had expressed a need and a desire: quietly, calmly, simply and directly and my husband responded to that; no questions asked.

Of course, we can’t always have we want and desire. Yet, we can’t get what we want, need and desire unless we are willing to end the subjugation trap and express ourselves. I have heard and read so many submissive women say that they find asking for something almost impossible. I was one of them. I know better now. I may not always get what I want or get it when I want it, but it won’t stop me from being assertive enough to ask now, directly and politely.

There is nothing about being a submissive to a dominant that does not allow someone to ask for what they believe they need, or to express their view about any matter that is pertinent to them. Frankly, I think it would be a relief to the vast majority of dominants if submissives did express themselves in this way. It doesn’t change the fact that they are in control but if does allow them to control in full knowledge of the submissive’s mind.

When the subjugation trap is understood, a giving person continues to give but as well, she (or he) asks that she be given in return. There is balance. There is a healthy relationship.

My psychologist is very respectful of the dynamic between my husband and myself but she wanted me to be aware of the “subjugation trap”. It is vital that submissives learn to ask for what they need. A good dominant will consider what the submissive has to say and take it into account when making a determination. Given the dynamic we have chosen, asking is paramount and hopefully, what is given shall be returned in spades.

Asking

A weekly ‘correction’ has been an idea that has appealed to me for a long time. As much as the idea of a punishment has an erotic appeal to me and is most certainly a big factor in so many of my fantasies, in reality I don’t respond to corporal discipline all that well. My husband isn’t inclined to that since he realized that corporal punishment brought out the feisty, rebellious side of me and he couldn’t see the point in having corporal discipline if it wasn’t doing us good.

Maybe a month ago now, I came to him with the suggestion that we have a weekly ‘correction’. It would be at the same time each week but other than that the details of it were up to him. He expressed his concern. He loved me. He didn’t want to inflict pain on me really. But, didn’t he get excited every time he did do that? Yes, he assured me he did. So, if I was asking him to give me a weekly correction, asking for him to inflict pain, was he all right with that? More than all right apparently because although it was not Saturday morning, the time agreed, he thought we should start right away.

Out came the ropes to tie me to the bedroom chair very securely and into my mouth went the ball gag. It had been a long time since I’d felt more than a few strokes of the cane, and although my mouth was filled I managed to scream my way around the gag with every stroke. But, I loved every nasty minute of it, the lovely sex afterwards and the delicious feel of being sore every time I sat down over the day.

The following Saturday, I was tied to the bed. Arms stretched out and tied to the front and back right post of the bed, but my feet were left alone. This time he used the ring gag and his choice of implement was a flat thick wooden slicer, the sort you use to turn something in a flying pan. From the first wack of that implement I registered my protest with deep, guttural shrieks. It stunk like the bejesus and I swear the cane is easier to take than a paddle. But, on he went to all intents and purposes having a swell old time flaying into my backside while I pulled on the ropes in some vain attempt that I could actually get away. Yet, low and behold, the sex afterwards was heavenly and my state of mind all weekend wonderfully elevated. Off to the races we went and my little heart was filled with joy and love.

This past weekend, I woke on Saturday morning laid low. My throat was very sore, my head ached and it was clear this girl wasn’t up to a thrashing. On Sunday morning, I feared that he would let it go; let me off the hook. I knew I didn’t have the courage to ask again. But, he came through with flying colours. We spoke of walking the dogs to a breakfast place and agreed to do that and I thought that was that but just as I was thinking of a shower, he told me the correction needed to come first.

Over the bed again (it’s high and I can bend over it at hip level) and tied tightly to the bedposts and this time, my ankles too. I was utterly and completely secured.

“Think about the past week. Is there anything about your behaviour that requires correction?”

I tend to go to water at these moments.

“Ummmm, I can’t think of anything...”

“Well you better hurry up because if you don’t, it won’t bode well for you.”

“Well, I answered you back a couple of times. I was a bit argumentative a couple of times.”

“Yes, you were. Unnecessarily so. Anything else?”

“I...I don’t think so...”

“Well, there is the issue of the petrol gauge being on empty again and we didn’t deal with that yet so that will have to be taken into account, won’t it?”

“Yes, owner.”

“Hmmmmm”

I’ve never managed to convince my husband that a girl needs a warm up before a caning. He brought his hand down a few times but it had little bearing on the fact that the first stroke bit into me and had me howl.

“May I please have a gag for my mouth?”

I do so much better when I can focus my energies on something in my mouth.

“Certainly. Which one would you prefer?”

“The cocki gag please.”

So, in it went and I felt ever so much better. For a guy that shows reservation with corporal punishment I have to give my husband full marks in acting since he certainly appears to be enjoying himself as he wallops my bottom and produces red stripes across white skin.

I did not cry but I did come up as high as I could a few times towards the end, rather like a horse neighs his protest up into the air, only to find that my restraints were tight and binding and I had nowhere to go.

One of his favourite little tricks is for me to think that he is done. He will come to me and be tender with me, perhaps rubbing my bottom a little or touching my face as I breathe hard and go into the phase of recovery.

“A few more, I think. Not quite done yet.”

But, again, the sex was very, very good and the day, a perfectly happy one.

We are only three weeks into this ritual but it is going very well. It meets my needs and I honestly don’t think it is onerous for him. I’m not getting that impression.

But, I did need to ask for this. It was not going to happen if I did not ask. I would encourage others who are cognisant of a need to discuss that need with their partner and see if you can’t come to an arrangement. Asking is not easy but then again, not getting for what you need has no upside at all.

Active versus Passive Submission

The notion of submission being active or passive as discussed in David's post is intriguing to me. I consider these sort of ideas in terms of how they refer to my own submission so that I give them 'grounding' and I'd like to suggest that my sense of submission has elements of both passive and active submission that relate to how I think and to the requirements of the dominant.

Let’s start with how I think. The subliminal messages we send ourselves are made up of all sorts of life lessons; what our parents and teachers said; what our friends say; what we read and how we process all that information. Somewhere along the line, I got the message that a submissive woman like me should not ask for things. Rather, when and if the dominant was ready he would give me what he thought I needed. As David said,

“Submission that is a restrained response, because the girl is often restrained, and it sets a tone or pattern, and she often feels that is what is expected of her. That she is expected to be quiet and calm and still and respond, and certainly is not expected to initiate.”

In the context of my life, that notion did not function so well. I have a busy husband with lots of thoughts to distract him away from what the inner needs of his girl might be at any particular time and being passive and biding my time proved to be frustrating and debilitating. I thought I had to wait for him to notice that I was in need of his attention for it to be a legitimate submission and so not only was I out of kilter but I felt that we were out of kilter. That road of passivity had many slippery slopes.

In fairness, I have always been encouraged to ask for what I want/need and if I went to my husband in his study and asked him for a spanking, he would accommodate me, at least nine times out of ten. Unless he was on a conference call, I think I could seduce him too, at least nine times out of ten. He is not impartial to some impromptu tender loving care and he would rise to the challenge presented to him. (Yes, I did enjoy typing that sentence.)

But, for far too long I had this inner thought that this was not the way it was meant to be. He was meant to be the all-powerful, all-knowing Dominant/Top and my place was to be passive and wait.

I am over that sort of thinking now and our conversations are much more fluid. I certainly recognize that tact at such times comes in very handy and politeness is a prerequisite, but I do not feel it is wrong or bad to be active in my submission any longer and I operate on a basis of co-responsibility as to my sense of my submission and how that is playing out in my life.

Yet, a submissive can easily go one step too far in pursuing an active style of submission. David noted,

“I think submissives often feel that they walk that fine line between expressing themselves, and drawing his wrath for being un-submissive and attempting to grab control, and I suspect it tends to make a girl very passive.”

This is not an uncommon mistake for me to make and I offer a couple of examples of the sort of situation where active submission can get out of control.

Recently, I felt a certain apprehension about a situation and I made that point to my mentor. He listened carefully, as always. Perhaps it was my tone or perhaps he had a sense that the matter had spilled into that grey area where my trust in him to handle things was put into question. It was my turn to register his state of mind. Did I not think that he had taken these matters into account?

I immediately recognized that my point had been made and noted but that I was within a hair’s breadth of damaging the fine balance of our relationship and I immediately reverted back to my place; reclaimed by status as the bottom/student. As I see it, one can walk up to the line and even peek over, but one really must not venture over to the other side. There is a sense of order and fitness of things here and one gets to sense that within the relationship and adjust one’s modus operandi accordingly. Hence, submission is a flowing sort of entity, with some parts of the river requiring passivity and other stretches requiring an active submissive response.

Another example would be conversations with my husband about financial dealings where he tells me what is happening and I listen. I am welcome to ask questions always but I am highly discouraged from asking the same question twice or from offering my advice too freely. Our dynamic has evolved in that my trust in him is expected. I may not fully agree with the process he used to get us where he wants to go but I should know this and I should know it well: he will take care of me.

I suppose that sounds rather passive. I am not active in the process. I have not initiated too much except to request clarification, or ask a question or expression concern over something. But, in my life, according to my dynamic, that is enough. The sensitive balance of who leads and who follows requires that degree of passivity to function well.

Much of what I write, here in this post or in the journal generally is about a loving relationship or a relationship with good intent and tenderness. It is a relationship in constant movement and back and forth and one where balance will go awry, even ever so slightly sometimes. Adjustments and corrections are just part of the deal and thus my submission will move – from passive at one time to active in another. One feels one’s way through this because at the heart of submission is that one wants to please. I don’t think it is possible to get away from this notion in the submissive’s mind.

A submissive will look to her dominant as a guide as to how to conduct herself and I would like to suggest this thought. If he says he would like to see her show some initiative, then the time has come for her to cast off her preconceived ideas of submission. If he wants to feel her return his kiss passionately, then why not?

I find myself intrigued with the quote from BDSM: A Kinkster’s Guide in David’s post:

“"I don't want to be told not to sit on the toilet seat or denied an orgasm. I want to be conquered. I want to be dominated. I want to be subdued.”

It is the submissive mind set, I believe, to want to be subdued. I live for those moments when my husband comes to me and without fanfare takes me, is rough with me even and has his way. It goes to the core of what makes me feel alive; feminine; cherished (as odd as that may sound to some ears).

But, I cannot agree that I don’t want to be denied an orgasm necessarily because my mindset is that I do relish being controlled, be it subtle control which I find incredibly erotic or forceful control. In my mind, obedience is part of control and control is part of feeling the submission; or better put, part of feeling that I am interacting with the dominant. There is passivity to these situations and I think it is a passive submission for a reason: because I want to be dominated.

At the end of the day, each relationship will function according to the people involved but for it to truly work well I think the dominant has to get across how he would like his submissive to behave. This is often not a well defined statement of law but something said in passing and I have learned to listen carefully to the dominant. His preferences are there somewhere just as he observes her closely to determine best how to control his submissive to keep her happy and in her mode. I think the submissive needs to be light footed, moving effortlessly from a passive to an active submission according to the needs of the day.

The best thing she can do, in my opinion, is to throw out the door preconceived ideas of what a submissive does or how a submissive should act and instead interact with her dominant in a cohesive, interactive way.

P.S. I've just realized that today is Love our Lurkers Day! This is the day once a year when bloggers invite those readers who have never left a comment before to say hello, or tell us what is on their minds. I just adore it when someone new takes the plunge and leaves me a comment and I invite readers to take this opportunity to join the fun and comeraderie. You are most welcome as are the regular commenters, of course. And, thank you to Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts for continuing this initiative.