The delicate balance of the dynamic

When the dynamic between two people is firmly established - one person being the Dominant of the team, the leader, and the other person being the submissive, the follower of the team - there is an easy and consistent flow of life. Each person understands and is comfortable in his or her assigned role and whilst there may be some unharmonious moments, as there are between all couplings, the matter is soon set straight. It is to each person's benefit that the correction ensues, returning the dynamic to balance; the balance of the power dynamic agreed upon.

As I see it, lack of harmony mostly happens when there is not an adequate show of power, and to whom that power belongs. Any efforts made on my part to wrestle power (and that happens when I feel, often subconsciously, that I am not being sufficiently controlled) lead me to feel out of sync with myself and my place.  It is a sense of being in a foreign land without a city map or the ability to speak the language. It is a sense of unease.

I make attempts to 'fix' the Dominant party. Is there a problem? Do they want to talk about it? It probably looks like a play for power, or for making the relationship more like one of vanilla folks. I can even think this myself until it becomes self-evident eventually that what I really want is for the Dominant to be, well, more Dominant. I can't be myself, submissive, unless and until he returns to the person I know and I want him to be, leader-like, and aware of my needs to bunker down at his behest.

I can make a meal, or plan a weekend away, or assist the children with a creative endeavor, or plan a party, or write a story, without his assistance, but what I can't do is feel comfortable in my own skin without him feeling comfortable in his own skin.

There is an enormous responsibility towards the submissive and there's a pain in the ass factor here, I know. No-one feels dominant all the time. Life beats everybody down some days. We all need time on our own and every dominant sometimes expects his submissive to just get on with life without his involvement from time to time. There are protocols in place and so long as she does what she is supposed to do, all is, more or less, well.

It is, however, undeniable that without some input, some reminder of her place, and his place in her life, she can become unglued. There is always that risk. She needs evidence of the more assertive guy she knows is always there but not necessarily on show, so that she can be the compliant and content person they both known her to be deep down, regardless of  any and all conditions that are happening on the surface.

Technically, it is understood; the agreement has been in place for eons. But, the need for reminders of the dynamic, well, honestly, that never entirely goes away. She is much more happy when her place is abundantly clear and she can bunker down into it. This is the way that it is, has always been and always will be. This is the need of people who choose the power dynamic.

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.  

Correction

I can't help but notice that the recent post entitled Being Corrected has been read by a considerably larger number of people than usually read my posts. My little journal is for a select audience on the whole. At first, I thought it related to the fact that people might be curious as to what I was writing about these days, but each day the tally for that particular post climbs higher and I am forced to conclude that the issue of being corrected in a power exchange is of particular interest to people. So let's explore that some more.

For me, there's a fun side to correction and a very serious side at the same time. It was during the process of wanting to understand more about the process of correction and aftercare of a scene, or a longer experience, that I came across this piece of excellent writing about after care. It was fascinating to read about the situation where a woman might orgasm during rape and that this does not represent consent in any way. Clarisse Thorn and links to other women writers on the subject from her blog can give much more insight to this issue than I can, so I won't say any more about that, except to say that the body can definitely defy the brain. We can be turned on by issues that upset us or challenge us or even issues or experiences that we hate.

I've written recently about serious struggle in terms of being corrected and I don't think being corrected is ever going to be a 'piece of cake' for me. (pun intended, because is a banned substance) It doesn't strike me as being an easy thing to have someone insist that the way you've done things in the past won't be how you'll be doing them from now on. If you take food as an example, it's no small thing to train someone (be they dietitian, personal trainer, doctor or dominant) to stop eating sugar, or to eat it very rarely and only in small quantities. It isn't easy being told that you can either have a slice of cake on your birthday or something you've been wanting for quite some time. There's a choice, but there are still very strict limits imposed. Basically, at the end of the day, you can't have any cake on your birthday, is the way that game plays out.

Such situations and corrections that relate to daily regimin and rules can be challenging and even quite anger inducing. As I know dominance it's all about getting compliance which is another way of saying that it's all about achieving goals. One way or the other, goals will be achieved. It's not something that I choose to write about in detail in the journal but nasty deeds were done and clever tricks were devised to ensure my compliance on this matter (seriously limited sugar intake) and that resulted in a week where I experienced a gamut of emotions from arousal to extreme anger. Not only was I experiencing distress such that old habits were being dumped (and I choose that word with intention) but it was clear that this was arousing to both parties. I was mystified at my reaction, deep arousal at the same time as I was furious, but there it was and it could not be denied.

I think some of us can handle our kink with scenes and go about our lives until the next scene, and some of us want something more consistent than that. I've found that I enjoy and appreciate a more consistent sort of control exerted over me and this can be achieved in several ways; in some ways, the more the better.

I've been negotiating with my husband a stronger, tighter relationship. We've nearly at the end of one stage of our lives and onto another where we have more flexibility and freedom to pursue our own relationship. I have not enjoyed his absence in my personal life. It has been close to unbearable and I have expressed my needs.

It was interesting and hopeful for me to realize in our discussion that he is not entirely short of ideas at all. Something came up about my wardrobe. I think he may have said, 'Do I interfere with your purchases?' and I said, 'Well, I'd like you to be more involved, actually. I'd like you to notice things. I like it when you give me your input or choose something yourself.' And, he said, without drawing breath, 'Well, if that's what you want, you can call me and ask permission before you make a purchase. How do you like that?' It stopped me in my tracks. Did I want that? 'Or,' I responded, 'I could keep the ticket on things and I could show you a purchase and if you didn't like it, I could take it back.' There it was again, that sense of 'I like this/I don't like this'. I adore to be controlled but my instincts tell me to hold onto a bit of control too.

We have this situation, my Internet teacher and I, where, from time to time, it comes up in conversation as to whether he's too strict. If I am a bit 'sixs and sevens' he might ask if he is too strict, and I finally got up the nerve recently to type back that yes, sometimes he was. That's the part of me that wants to hold onto some control because in fact, he's not too strict at all. He's firm, yes. But, where the f**k would we be if he wasn't? If I could guarantee that I know what is good for me all the time, then he's too strict, but alas, I can't guarantee it at all.

As previously noted, after this  week long, dramatic, exhausting 'correction' I found myself exploring aftercare. Shouldn't I be getting something more than a pat on the head? Hour by hour I came to see that I was simply trying to control the 'after the correction' experience too. I had completed the correction, got some praise for it and now it was over. Oh. So, that's the way corrections go. No. Big. Deal. Part of the deal.

Let's be clear here. I long for a sense of containment and connection. Nothing brings more joy and bliss into my life than to feel the sort of emotional response where I feel love and respect for someone such that my whole body and soul resonates with the thrill of being alive and living this life. In order to achieve it I need to 'let go' and just let the control wash over me - my mind, my body, my whole life. Correction is part of the deal. It's arousing, it's confronting. It's an essential part of what I want.

On being different

I had lunch recently with a group of women on the occasion of one woman's birthday. It's an odd friendship group and I sit on the periphery of it. One woman in the friendship group is my oldest friend and that sort of dragged me into the group for some of life's festivities. So, I'm invited, sometimes, to these get-togethers to celebrate their birthdays and I contribute to the group gift, naturally. It's an odd sort of experience for me because it has never occurred to any of them in all these years that it must be uncomfortable for me to never have a get together organized for my birthday and to never be given a gift in return, but that's the way it goes and nothing is going to change.

They are a mixed group, mainly leading privileged and indulgent lives and I realized recently that my discomfort level with the situation has risen markedly. I was sitting there at a lovely restaurant earlier in the week with them listening to the details of their various holiday destinations and so on. I put on a brave face, of course. I ask questions and offer snippets and I do my best to enjoy the experience. All of them, one on one, are nice people but together they can seem, to me at least, bitchy, so I am guarded and careful in what I say. There is toxicity there from which I try to insulate myself. Perhaps the main point of difference between us is that they are 'girls' whereas I am a 'submissive girl', a girl whose most important journey has been inward rather than exploring the world.  Neither outlook is necessarily right or wrong, but different. I'm different and people who are different can be bullied. I'm conscious of that and that increases my independence, which probably bothers them.

It's been different these past two weeks for me. There is a point that is being made. There is a finite end to the process and so I'm not overly upset about it. It's akin to a school girl who has been 'grounded' but in a kinky sort of way. This is a process, for sure, and in the past few days I've been acutely aware of the 'freedoms'; anxious to return to a contained state; well aware of my 'needs'. Of course, there can be no better definition perhaps of a 'submissive girl' as opposed to the girls I know; someone who wants to return to her 'place'; who would happily travel the world like my 'friends' but only in a contained state; in the certainty of who I am and what works for me. 'Freedom' for me isn't what 'freedom' is for them. I need to feel a very deep connection. I need to know where the power lies; who runs the show. I need to feel the containment; to be answerable to a higher authority; to ask 'permission' for things; to know my place and purpose.

It's these sort of thoughts and needs that I must never, ever, dare share with my 'friends'. They'd turn on me, talk about me; ridicule me. The discomfort I feel in the group now would be a fraction of the intolerable abashment if they knew the real me. Perhaps it is why I remain on the fringes of the group, never really accepted into it, because they sense this in me and they can't relate; don't approve. I find it a more comfortable thing to surround myself with those people who I feel instinctively accept me; perhaps who are closer to my personality type. I think it is one of the reasons this little web journal continues to be so very important in my life.

Paddles

My husband very sweetly suggested this Saturday morning that we do something fun together today. We weighed up the options and decided to head for a country town where I know there are lots of good restaurants and fun galleries to wander through.

I love these little sojourns where we can be on our own. Over lunch the conversation got around to kinky sorts of subjects. I had just received a parcel with an object called The Ass Master and we chatted about the possibilities of that amongst other naughty topics. There was lots of giggling on my part and lots of insinuations on his part as to what could be my fate.

From there, we visited a lovely, rather chic gift and home store. I spotted two lovely living chairs that I'd love but my husband wasn't interested in paying the exorbitant price on the tags. Fair enough. Wandering further around the store I saw a pair of butter paddles. The thick set of wooden paddles were in immaculate order and call me nuts but I pointed them out to him, not the other way around.

"Look at these paddles. Aren't they interesting!"

"They were used to make butter balls."

"Oh, I made butter balls for my Gran when I was just a little girl."

I wait for the penny to drop...

"But, you know, cindi, they could have another purpose."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, I think we'll get these."

So, mission accomplished, my husband took them to the counter to pay for them. In attendance were two women, slightly older than us, full of chat and as it turns out, innuendo.

"Ah, so you've chosen the butter paddles. That's interesting you want those. You know we have people coming into the store telling us horrendous stories about these butter paddles from their childhood."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, it seems they hurt like hell. You know, we sell a lot of wooden spoons..."

"Do you?"

My husband felt it best to distract them with talk of corsets, another of the objects they sold and how he used to lace up his grandmother as a young boy."

"Oh yes. I think the women back then made the young children do that, in a perverted way."

It was getting weird. No matter what we did the conversation returned to them calling us for who (what) we were. I bowed out, choosing to wander around the store and pretend I was unaware of their game.

So, all paid, one of the women passed the bag to my husband.

"Well, it's off to the dairy with you and enjoy your instrument of discipline."

 Cheeky.

Nearly spanked with a hairbrush

Last night, I had a dream about getting a spanking. This is a very rare event. Unlike Abel who has regular dreams about giving spankings, I don't, alas, dream about getting a spanking except on very rare nights.

I was living with another family. There was a dream before that dream where I was with a boy, a disabled boy who I think belonged to this family. I was very close to him and putting two and two together, somehow or other I was a part of their family. Maybe, they'd adopted me or maybe I was an exchange student. I really don't know.

Anyways, clearly I'd done something naughty and the father was not at all happy with me. I seemed to know that I was going to get a spanking. I was waiting in the living room area of their house and I felt a sense of expectation about it. Maybe, I should have had a sense of foreboding about it but I don't recall that; just a knowledge that at any time he could call me for my punishment. I was completely accepting although I had no idea what a spanking would be like. I am clear on that. I felt curious as much as I felt worried. I was fairly certain it was going to hurt quite a bit. I figured that if someone was going to punish you by putting you over their knee, they were going to make sure it was memorable and motivated a person to never do that thing again. But, I didn't know for sure.

He came into the room and he said to me, "Let's get this over with. Into my study."

I got up immediately and walked into the study. I was ready to do exactly as told but at that moment he remembered that he'd left the hair brush in another part of the house. I was disappointed that we couldn't get on with the discipline. I had this sense that punishment was a good thing because once I got what I deserved I'd be able to be forgiven and to move on with a clean slate. I distinctly remember wanting that spanking so that I could be punished and be done with the sense that I was "in trouble" and in the bad books.  There would be no pleading for leniency from me. I wanted that hiding.

And, then...the dream ended. I never did get my spanking. I never did get a chance for the father to tell me that I had been forgiven and that he expected me from now on to obey his rules and that he felt sure that I was a good girl who simply needed to be reminded that it was my place to do as I was told.

I am still awfully disappointed about it. I can't understand at all why my subconscious would derail me in this way and not allow me the correction I so sorely needed. And, it's not the first time I've been taken up to the moment of a good thrashing in my dreams only to be let off the hook by waking up. It's absolutely not fair!

Correction

Alas, there's still more assignments to be done. However, after 50 weeks straight of my academic course, I am getting close to a point where I get a bit of a rest. I come here to give myself some kinky inspiration to see me through a lot of rather verbose writing over the next few days. I really do need to connect with that part of me that must remain hidden to the rest of the world every day. Hence, I offer this photograph.

Here's what I love about it:

-  She's not completely naked. It somehow adds to the vulnerability and humiliation.
-  He has his shirt sleeves rolled up.
-  He's fully and formally dressed.
-  He's concentrating so hard.
-  He's got his whole body involved with the swing.
-  She's wincing already knowing what is to come.
-  The man reminds me of a young Al Pacino.
-   He's got her on her elbows so that her bottom is nice and high.

I'll leave you good folks to conjure up the scene this time but my money is on the fact that she'd been a little too cheeky and before he takes her out to the restaurant he needs to remind her of her place. A few stripes on her backside will ensure a much more enjoyable evening for him. It's really as simple as that.

 And so I return to the land of cultural theories. Whilst you are having your perverted fun, perhaps you'd be kind enough to spare a thought for me.

Comfort, the kinky way

In 'real life' when I think about being comforted I think of the usual 'girlie' things, like soft words, big hugs and gentle kisses. I think of him telling me that it will all be all right; that he will be all right and I will be all right. I think of smiles and then laughs and after that, all is right in my world. I respond very well to a positive and upbeat approach. If he is upbeat then I'm upbeat.

In my thoughts, say, when I am waking in the morning and I'm in that world between being awake and being asleep, 'comfort' takes on a different face. Take this morning, for example:

I'm naked and he's called me to him. He says that he needs to spank me for disobeying him. The spanks on my bottom with the hairbrush should be received as a symbol of his will and his love for me and that my staying still to receive them is a symbol of my understanding that his will prevails and that I am receiving the spanks with love.


He asks me to climb over his knee and he begins to spank me with his hand. They're getting harder and I so very much want to wiggle away from his hand but he reminds me every now and again that I must stay still and accept the correction. A wiggling girl is a girl who has not accepted the importance of the spanking in her life. If I should wiggle it's a sign to him that he must spank harder and longer until I recognize the futility of wiggling.


Now, he takes up the wooden bath brush that stings so viciously. He tells me that he is going to turn over the counter and that when the sands all drift down the spanking will be over. Only three minutes. Can I be a good girl and stay still for three minutes while my bottom is well spanked?


What else is there to say? I tell him that I will do my best. He tells me that I must give into it and to just accept it; to let it pass through me and to allow the discomfort to guide me to better behavior in the future. He tells me that he is sure that I can be still; that I understand how important it is to receive this correction.


I try to hold onto his words; to please him by staying still but the heat is rising and I'm desperate to get away from that brush. I try to focus on the sands but there are so many of them still to pass through the little outlet and I begin to howl to the moon, to relieve the heat of my bottom and distract myself. Or, do I howl because I have to do something?!


When I have quietened again and just let myself surrender to the brush he tells me that perhaps next time when I have a mind to disobey I may remember the feeling of lying helplessly over his knee and I may choose differently. Do I think I may choose differently next time, he wants to know?


"Yes, Sir, yes, very differently," I assure him.


I am keeping a close eye on the sands now and it is not too long to go. Maybe five seconds, four seconds, three seconds, two seconds, one second...


"Time, Sir!"


He checks the timer. 


"Ahhhh, so it is, that's a good girl."


He rubs his hand over my bottom and I welcome the relief of the rubbing.


"Come to Daddy."


I curl up in his arms and he gives me a big hug, a rub of my back and then my bottom.


"All better now. My little girl is a good girl again."


He coos into my ear how proud he is of me and how this is just a little aberration. He's sure the correction has set me back on track and that I won't do it again.


"You won't do it again, will you darling?"


"No, Sir, not ever ever again."


"I thought not. Good girls don't disobey, do they?"


"No, they don't."


"Why don't they disobey, darling?"


"Because they are good."


"Yes. And, perhaps they may need to be spanked very soundly if they disobey. Do good girls like to be spanked very soundly."


"They don't like that at all!"


"No. So fortunate that you are a good girl, my darling. I wouldn't want to have to do that again. I won't have to do that again, will I darling?"


"I doubt it."


"I do too."


"Now, run along, there's a good girl."


"Yes, Sir."


And, then my day began. Such a comforting start to it.

Vulnerability

I happened to watch 'Sex in the City 2' in the past few days. It is rather ridiculous but fun entertainment, of course, and I was mildly enjoying it until Carrie met Aidan in the market, they had dinner and kissed and then she rang Mr Big to confess. It was creditable that she had grown up enough to understand that she needed to tell him, I thought, but it was apparent by his total silence that he wasn't responding well. As the silence wore on I could feel myself becoming more and more uncomfortable and when he said, "I'm at work Carrie, I have to go" I experienced much the same sense of abandonment and disapproval as Carrie must have experienced. She suffered. He suffered. It was not until they were reunited and he told her her "punishment" and the matter was taken care of that I began to feel some level of comfort again.

When I talk about my time in 'the doll' state I almost always talk about these wonderful feelings of lightness and happiness; of feeling deeply connected to my true self and the person that brings out 'the doll'. I mean it when I say  that it's a happiness unlike any other that I have experienced and that I'm grateful, exceedingly grateful to know that space; to have been introduced to that aspect of me; to have times when I can release my ego and all worldly concerns and just live life in its purest form. However, there are times when being the doll has caused me much angst and left me feeling that it may not be safe to enter such a vulnerable zone of living.

Even on a day by day level, I experience my husband's dissatisfaction as quite traumatic. To give an example, I said something towards the end of the evening recently and I have absolutely no recollection of what I said (something that seemed incredibly bland to me and of no importance or at all remarkable) but it bothered him; struck a nerve somehow. He berated me. It went on for maybe a minute, maybe less, I really don't know, but I had one of my out-of-body experiences where my mind responds like this:

'I must have said something wrong. Now, he will say a whole lot of things and I don't understand why he is saying them and I don't understand what I did wrong again and this is so troubling to me that my mind has switched off and I'm not here...soon it will be over and he will be he again and I will be me again and life will go on just as it did before we had another of these odd, unexplainable and very troubling events...now he has stopped talking and he is leaving the room and I can go back to living as we did before...and I get up and go and have a shower and get ready for bed...and have no recollection of the words spoken but only that I have upset him again and I don't know why or how this happened.'

This is not at all new. It's a much rarer event than it used to be a few years ago, thank goodness. I spoke to my psychologist about this experience last year and she said it was my mind protecting itself and it was a very healthy response. But, nonetheless, it is deeply troubling to me and I do what I can to try to avoid experiencing that sense of disapproval in me.

Now, in 'the doll' state I became quite vulnerable. In that state, one is well aware that the idea is to impress, to service and the doll does that quite naturally. It's a very happy and richly rewarding place for me to be; to be providing service and contentment, and as long as the doll continues to impress and for people to be happy with her, all is well.

However, over time, and as she was corrected and even punished for what was considered poor behavior, she became highly vulnerable because when she was dismissed or when she experienced the owner's anger or the mentor's anger, this absolutely crushed her. It would leave her in a puddle on the floor and more and more, she worried. There were times when she couldn't relax as the silly dumdum dolli because...what if she said something that displeased...what if He got mad...what if she was dismissed...abandoned...all over again?? The very connection that she so adored was now something that could potentially cause her to break. Better to be mindful of everything she said and everything she did and have certainty that she would not experience that sense of disapproval; not have to go through the trauma of a sense of abandonment. As much as 'the doll' has extraordinary, mind blowing and heavenly highs, she has experienced lows that leave her bewildered; confused; absolutely crushed.

Well, of course,  I am much too sensitive as 'the doll' or as the full blooded complete woman that walks this earth. In either state I long for a deep connection; for affection; for approval and to please at the same time as I have so many things to say, some of which people don't like to hear.

Containment

My husband and I went out for dinner last night; back to the same Italian restaurant that we went to after my very first spanking. I felt rather nostalgic about that and so wished that I was sitting on a sore bottom. Nevertheless, we had a lovely time. The food was just how we liked it, we polished off the bottle of pinot we brought along and we thoroughly enjoyed conversing together.

I had got dolled up and I think I looked good. I was in a new black dress. At some point during the meal he looked me over and said, "I suppose you are going to tell me that you've had that dress for ages." I laughed. It is a private joke of ours that I tend to say to him, "This? Oh, I have had this dress for years. You have already seen me in it a few times now." Instead, I said, "It's new. Do you like it?" And he said, "It looks lovely."

 I was also wearing a new pair of pearl ear rings - much more detailed than I would usually wear but a jeweler friend had showed them to me and I liked the idea of wearing something a bit different. "And, the ear rings are new, too. What do you think of them?" "I like them," he said. "Not too much?" "Well, they are a bit eccentric, but I like them on you." I think he must have liked the overall look because he took a few photographs of me before I left and I was pleased to see that I am starting to look my vibrant self again. I've got my condition under control and I definitely feel better.

In an ideal world, my husband would take a little more interest in my purchases. (My God, I hope he never reads this.) He'd sit on the bed and watch while I removed something from my wardrobe to make room for the new purchase. If I bought a new dress, then he'd watch while I chose an old dress to give away. This is a regimen that I really want to put into consistent practice. I'm not fantastic at this but I do try to achieve this goal. I certainly am happy to remove anything that doesn't work or that he doesn't like or that is just too old or outdated but I haven't managed to put this regimen in place immediately that I purchase something. It's something I continue to work on because the thought pleases me very much.

It's not easy for my husband to want to restrict me. If I ran about town purchasing expensive items all the time and was out of control he'd soon pull me up. But, I don't do that and he loves to see me look good. His feeling is that so long as I don't go overboard and as long as I am purchasing items that he likes, no harm is done. Not so long ago he said to me, "Why don't you wear that Spanish dress..." I said, "The one with layers? Darling, I bought that when I was 22. That bit the dust." He was incredulous how time how flown so fast! So, you see, he's not inclined to have me give things away. This minimalism is a project for me to do alone now and I am. It suits my dolly state of mind, you see.

There was another moment over dinner that was worthy of note. We had a nice Italian waitress but as my husband read the menu she looked straight at me and asked me what I wanted to order. This has got me into trouble before and I didn't want to be in trouble. My husband expects all orders to be given through him. Caught in a bind, I said to him, "May I please give her my order?" "Yes, you may," he said. This was quite unusual but I went ahead and told her I'd have the Scallopini au vino. If she noticed the dynamic between us, she didn't comment. The restaurant tends to be frequented by mostly older Europeans so she is probably ready for anything.

Recently, we went to dinner at our Club and when we entered the restaurant area the young male waiter looked directly at me. "We have a reservation," I said. When we were seated, I was told off. It's not my place to respond to waiters but I have felt compromised when they look to me for direction. Anyways, later on this rather cocky young waiter put the bill directly in front of me. My husband said, "He thinks you are in control of this relationship." I laughed. "Why on earth would he think that?" "Because of what you did earlier." Again, I was read the riot act about talking to waiters. And, I definitely did learn my lesson...won't be doing that again any time soon...

I must say, and there are no surprises here, that I enjoy feeling like a doll. I enjoy dressing up like a doll, being taken to dinner like a doll; treated like a doll. I like to be contained in any number of ways. I am very happy to be owned and very happy to be pleasing.

Praise

It has occurred to me more than once that women enjoy being in an power exchange arrangement for its consistent supply of praise. Okay, there might be struggle but an insightful Top will recognize that after the struggle must come praise.

It has also occurred to me that we are capable of  'snuffing off' praise. It is not that we don't love it but that sometimes praise is almost uncomfortable. We aren't letting the praise fully in. Imagine a scenario where a woman is told she looks pretty. Instead of allowing herself the enjoyment of that inner glow of her efforts being acknowledged she says, "Oh, this old thing. I've had this dress for years." or "My hair isn't quite right though..." Or, whatever. She is not letting the praise in and she isn't giving the giver of the praise the opportunity to see her enjoyment of receiving the praise.

I did something similar recently. All this reviewing of the arts I have been doing in my course has been a huge learning curve for me. In my course we've reviewed books, art, plays, film and even music. It's been wonderful learning but in all cases but one I've had feedback such as "Good, but you could have done this, or you could have contextualized more or I wasn't entirely sure if you enjoyed it..."

In only one module was the feedback quite glowing. In only one module was my work singled out as laudable. And, guess what? That's the feedback that I glossed over; barely registered. (I actually just read over the comments now to check that the tutor said what I thought he said and to take into my soul the praise he was offering.) In terms of the more negative (or I should say, constructive feedback because that is what it was) feedback, I took in every word of that - berated myself for not thinking of it first or having missed something and so on.

I think this is the tendency of the submissive woman. On some level, she isn't entirely sure of herself and even when she gets praise she isn't entirely sure she deserves it or if it is genuine or even if it is appropriate for her to accept the praise.

My boss of a thousand years ago used to say that he didn't praise me because he thought it would go to my head. I heard how he felt about my work and efforts through other people but very rarely did I hear it from him. Even with my mentor, it was another person who knew him who told me how he felt about my efforts and progress more so than directly through him. And, of course, I took the reprimands and his not being happy with me about something much more seriously than I ever took his praise. It's a bit like getting Honours for a subject, let's say 90%, and instead of saying 'Yay,I got a really high score', we say 'I feel like I failed because I missed 10 marks and that's dumb'.

In group meditation class once we were asked to make an effort that week to really accept any praise or compliments that came our way and to take a moment to let that praise in; to be open to it and to acknowledge it. I think that's definitely worth a try.

Silence

The top of a relationship needs to think about what corrective/disciplinary measures he might take with his girl (or boy). It's inevitable that situations will crop up and he's going to want to have thought out what he plans to do about that. It seems clear that there are a wide range of measures available to him. He might want to just talk to her in a clear, concise way that whatever she did, he doesn't want her to do it again. Perhaps this measure is adequate. Some tops raise their voice (Oh come on, you know you do!) and that's not at all pleasant. I know it often stops me in my tracks because I don't want to spin that situation any further out than it already is. I don't like him being cross with me at all.

There are so many measures a top could take that it’s hard to know where to go from here. Of course, he might want to provide some corporal discipline; not the type she likes, but the type she doesn't like. If he isn't at all happy and she knows that, there's an atmosphere that goes with that that is entirely corrective. I get spanked (or whatever) as a correction but not when he's angry, thank goodness.

Growling at her; giving her a good telling off; a lecture; giving her a last warning before you turn her over your knee is usually more than enough, in my opinion. Your angry face or your angry words will have her whistling another tune quick smart. And, that's the whole idea, right?

He might ask her to write lines. I've been asked to do that but it was soon determined that I didn't find that a punishment. I enjoy writing lines. It's the sort of humiliating punishment that goes straight to my fantasies. Interestingly, once a top knows that you enjoy a punishment, he stops issuing it. I can't imagine why this is so...

There's corner time and I do hate this but fortunately it's not used, except on some very random occasions. It was used when I didn't have control of my responses and wouldn't be silent when I was told to be silent.

A top could use the strategy of taking a girl’s words away for a time. This is also fantasy material but I think it is a very useful measure to use when a girl just needs to settle herself down for a time. When used, say, for a day it goes beyond corrective and can lead to a deep peace, if all goes well.

Some tops prefer to put a girl under a cold shower for a minute or two, to restrain them in some way...The list goes on. I'm aware that some girls are put into chastity belts, corsets, made to wear an anal plug that is too small, rather big; perhaps coated in shampoo rather than lube. All of these measures can be corrective and at the same time, pleasurable. I don't deny that it can be tough to correct a girl when her perversions/fantasies can mean that she attains some pleasure in these directives.

I return to the thought that being in trouble is really the issue. The bottom doesn't want to be in trouble; to be in the bad books and that's really the correction; that he is not happy with you. It's a very vulnerable feeling; that the world isn't spinning around in a correct fashion.

I'm familiar with the technique of being dismissed when my behaviour has been thought to be wanting. "Leave the room," I will be told. "I don't wish your presence right now." "cindi can go away and think about that!". Or, simply silence.  I've never enjoyed that. I find it completely horrible. Most of the time, I'm given an opportunity fairly quickly to redeem myself. It might relate to my owner wanting an apology and when I am ready to apologize, he's ready to receive it and all is well.

My training with a mentor has found itself in this neck of the woods and whilst the words seem tame "talk wif da bimbo l8r", they are not. I know what they mean. I know that I didn't impress and that time is being 'granted' to think about that and decide if I want to pursue that line of action, or do things according to the D/s statutes. Since I hate the kind of silence that comes as a form of correction, I do what I need to do to return to good grace.

When dismissal lasts for a few hours or even a few days, I don't think any harm is done. It's a very effective way of telling a girl that she has crossed the line and I accept that sort of consequence. I don't need long to determine that I don't care at all for this outcome and I am happy to sort matters out to the satisfaction of the top. I'm very much a girl that wants to stay in the good books.

Having said that, I must say that ‘dismissal’ used over a period of years has led me to a place where I find uncertainty as to my status (good or bad books?) and silence without an understanding as to why there is silence, extremely upsetting. So upset did I become the last time I felt placed in this quandary that I determined an ending of the relationship was better than enduring this emotional pain.

That's a highly emotional reaction, I know, and not the best one at that. But, I distinctly recall at the time I had that feeling that I simply could endure it not a minute longer.  Perhaps, I had found my 'limit'; that measure or behaviour that I refused to and could not endure. I may have been wrong (was wrong) as to intention. I may have been (was wrong) to not have adequate trust. Yet, at the time, a long silence without full understanding as to whether this was corrective or simply entirely unavoidable was too much to bear.

This is the point I want to make loud and clear to any tops out there reading. If you determine that you must remove yourself from your submissive for some reason, it needs to be absolutely clear why your removal is occurring. Perhaps the silence has nothing to do with her. So, tell her. She needs to know if this is a correction, or not. What did she do wrong and what do you want her to think about while silence reigns? How long is this likely to take, do you think? If you want her to learn a lesson, go for it. But, be aware that she will suffer and how much emotional suffering do you want her to endure? There is a limit as to what the human heart can take.

All bottoms need to feel a connection to their tops. Even if the relationship is not romantic, even if it is a teacher/student relationship, for example, we submissive types must feel that we have pleased. When we know we haven't pleased, all we want to do is to make up for that. Silence is okay for a short burst of 'pull yourself together!' therapy but not okay for long bursts. She'll be tormented. When you decide to end her agony, you can't be sure you haven't broken her spirit; her heart.

I’m not blind to the fact that a connection can be so strong it can bear almost anything. It can be ripped apart and regrow. It can endure even after death. The human heart is very strong. Trust is a prerequisite for this sort of life as is forgiveness. Where there is a will, there is a way, but why take the risk?

Training and growing up

A good 'slave' friend of mine and I were having a long chat recently. The conversation ranged over a diverse range of topics. Being a slave and living the life of a slave much longer than I have even known about this sort of thing, I give consideration to all that she has to say. She's a bright girl and she's thought long and hard about all these topics. She says she learns from me but I never walk away from a conversation from her feeling uneducated.

The conversation turned to 'obedience' and she was telling me that whilst doing certain daily tasks for her Master was difficult in the beginning, they have become simply the way she lives. She had been trained and she now felt no resistance to these rules and regulations. In fact, she didn't even think about them at all. She just did them as she would brush her teeth before she went to bed. It was just life.

For reasons unknown my mind went to cooking. Perhaps ten years ago, after cooking a zillion meals for the family I sort of 'jacked up' (Is that another peculiar Australian expression? It means I went on strike.) I started to complain and wanted to know why it was solely my responsibility to provide the meals. We had a few weeks of restlessness about it. On occasion, I'd be slow to get the meal prepared and seemingly blissfully unaware of the revolution going on, he'd stay in his study and work (or read, or watch the news, or whatever). Of course, I had to allow for four hungry children as well as him and so at about 7.30 pm I went in there once or twice and said something like, "I wonder how long you'd stay in here and wait for someone to call you to say that your meal was on the table. At what point would your hunger take over?"

He explained the game plan. If I needed an ingredient which I had forgotten to buy, he'd go get it.Or, if I needed his help from time to time I was welcome to make out a list and he'd go to the grocery store for me. If (and he was really referring to a weekend night) I asked him nicely, he'd go pick up some Chinese food. But besides that, the food for the family was my job and the sooner I accepted that the better we would all be.

The laying down of the rules and the realization that he had no intention whatsoever of changing his mind meant that eventually I just accepted the situation as law. I obeyed and made the dinner without complaint thereafter.

Do I always do so without thinking about it? I would not say that. My mind often goes to the fact that I am contained within that rule; that I might feel like complaining a bit but I know that the results won't be to my liking and so I don't complain. This is not to say that I don't often enjoy making the meal. Cooking is a way to show your creativity and I am a 'scratch cook'. I make the meals from first principles with loads of vegetables and healthy ingredients. I take pride in the fact that we sit down as a family each night and eat a healthy meal; discuss the events of the day. We are all winners according to this rule.

I'm  not at all displeased to be contained within that rule. On some level I am conscious of enjoying that I know the lay of the land and that things are decided. One of the arguments he gave at the time was that I expect him to do certain things without complaint and he expected me to do this chore without complaint. That's fair.

Now please don't misunderstood me or be at all offended when I say that there are many things that submissive gals and 'slaves' do that we don't and won't incorporate into our lives. My husband would have enormous difficulty in doing something that didn't seem natural and I think I would too. I'm not going to greet him at the door naked on my knees. People come and go from this house at their leisure. There is just no way that either of us would ever relax long enough to do that knowing that some adult child is about to turn the key in the lock. Even if they weren't here, I just can't see it. He'd never think to ask that of me and so it would seem staged to both of us. Of course, one should never use the word "never"!

Yet, he does have his expectations. He isn't the least inclined to want to hear me use any swear words. (He once read the blog and saw that I had used a swear word and told me to delete it at once.) He expects politeness at all times. He does not care to be criticized. If I want something of him, or for him to do something he will happily listen at the appropriate time but he doesn't want to hear any frustration in my voice. He wants an attitude of working together to achieve the things I want. And, if he says "no" or he can't do it yet or he can't afford it yet, that's the way it goes. I have to understand he is doing his best and he has our best interests at heart.

At times, he has rejected my opinions and ideas only to tell me later that I was right. This is frustrating. Why lie about that? It's hard to have a good idea summarily rejected. But, if you look at the overall game plan, we've done well and we live well.

I mentioned to my friend that within the D/s relationship I had lost much of the sense that I used to have that I was sometimes a "little girl".  She told me that I had evolved and that was why the little girl had gone. I knew how to obey now. I was trained. (Correct me A if I don't have the right tenor of your words there.)

On some level, the thought is appealing; that I am trained now; that I can't make mistakes any more; that I just do as I am trained to do. I do do something daily that I enjoy to do. Only very recently has it become the norm for me to comply, almost without thinking. I've discovered enough times that it is detrimental to me not to do the task daily to understand that it is easier to do it and get on with my day (or night) than to be resistant to that knowledge. It is the way I live now.

And yet, I miss the "little girl" quite profoundly. I heard an old podcast recently about the "Daddy" status and whilst I've never entirely bought into that word or the implications of it, I do love the concept that a girl is treasured and taken care of, as well as having expectations of her. In my fantasies my Daddy is no push over. He doesn't hand over a few hundred bucks for me to go squander. On occasion he may treat his girl, but he is strict. His girl achieves. His girl does as told. (You might like to check out the Agnes and Frederick story if you like that sort of thing). The point is, she gets to be small. She gets to goof off a bit at times and is calmly but determinedly brought back into line (okay, occasionally he brings out a strap or something but it is rare and done with love.)

I think what I love about the "little girl" is that little girls are always loved and forgiven by their Daddies. They may be naughty and they may disobey but it is not fatal. A hiding isn't fatal. And, he'll hug her after and tell her it hurt him more than it hurt her. And, she'll sob and tell him that she is so sorry to have disappointed him and she'll try never to do it again. He has to correct her bur he never stops loving her. Do you see how comforting this concept is? (My husband sometimes says to me, "You are very cute, little girl." and I adore that.)

Does the man who Tops a girl, who sets the rules down and ensures they are enforced and punishes (perhaps by withdrawing from her) when they are not obeyed go on caring for the girl? And, if she does comply regularly and repeatedly, is he careful not to be too complacent about that? I might make the meal without resistance but that doesn't mean I don't hope that someone might say, "This is delicious!" I might do my daily task without question but that does not mean I don't hope that I may still receive some praise for doing so. If the praise and pampering should dry up when the girl is trained, well then...I don't particularly want to grow up.

Mr. Ringo

Sumtymz, cindiz feelinz bowt her pluggiz cumfliktd. Her l8st pluggi, Mr. Ringo, he a beri challengin pluggi 4 her. Ashooli, he a gr8 shape n glydz in2 plays no prublim. Da challenj wif him cumz wuns he in, coz he cuntinoooz 2 challinj ull da tym. Mr. Big, he settlz in n reeelaxz but Mr. Ringo; well, he da sorta pluggi dat jus kenna allow bimbo 2 reeelax. He insist da she pay atttenshn ull da tym.

Cors, it nut da cays dat wun dey owta da bloo, bimbo eskd 2 yoos Mr. Ringo. Da treynnin happin obr a lung periud ob tym n bimbo beri graduilli werkiz up 2 da big pluggiz.

It reeeli nut dat lung afta Mr Ringo arryv dat she poot in Mr. Ringo. She encurijd 2 go slow n tek her tym, n she def tri slow down. But, it has sed, dat bimbo tendz 2 hurri deeez tingz. Wut ken she sey!?

N e wey, she beri proud dat she wer Mr. Ringo n she kenna wayt 2 cum on n tel bowt dis - 2 reseeeeef prays. Dis bimbo happin 2 menshin she a prayz slut? Well, dat so.

Sum tym afta dat, nut dat lung tinki, bimbo tol 2 wer Mr. Ringo ulll nite. Dis a M A J O R challenj 4 her n she sed dis. She sed she nut tinki she ken do. She tol it nut up 2 her. She hab no cuntrol - 2 settil in2 da speriens. Nut 2 esk hessef wen mite finish but 2 unnerstan dat der no wey owt - dat she hab no cunrol. She nut 2 tinki wen she get releeeef, or how lung Mr. Ringo 2 stey, but just 2 akept her predikamin.

Wel, bimbo tryz beri beri hard 2 pay attenshn 2 ull suggestinz n she continoo 2 wer da pluggi ull da nite. Dis challenjn nut jus coz it fiscilli demandn but also coz bimbo wanna feel dat totil cuntrol such dat she do sumtin dat herd 4 her. She mey uncumfertibl but she also wanna test hessef n 2 obey da cummanz she reseeef.

2 tel da troooof, bimbo reeeeeli getz off on dis sorta cuntrol n ebin do she waki lotz n wish dat she cood tek Mr. Ringo owt and she resil wif dat tot obr n obr, she nut tek him owt.

Wen it cum lite n dey tym, she so prowda hessef. She wer Mr Ringo uuuuuuul da nite n assept da cuntrol n dis mek her feel beri prowda hessef n liki she a gud bimbo. Dis a wunnerfl feelin 4 bimbo coz dis sorta cuntrol obr her n da feeelin dat she cuntrolld beri satisfyn 2 her. It y she werki so herd reeeeli, coz she wanna no wut dat liki - 2 hab no cuntrol in deeez weyz. It wut she esked 4, in fakt.

Of cors, a demandin pluggi liki Mr. Ringo hab a beri intens fisicil fekt on bimbo 2 n he tern her on in weyz dat fantastik. If onli da gurlz new!!

Cors, dis week, Mr. Pluggi jus sit on da shef n wayt 4 bimboz currekin obr. It tuf on him n reeeeli he did nuffin rong. It bimbo dat notti. Hopefoooooli, beri soon Mr. Ringo n bimbo ree you nytd n he bak where he beee lung. Dat of cors, if deeez postz septibl.

Lyf wiffowt pluggiz

As splaynd yesserdey, in da nite tym wen gettn redi 4 beddi bi, dis pluggi tym. As cindi rytz deez werdz, dat da tym 4 her - gettin redi 4 bi bi. But, cindi nut poot in her pluggi 2nite n nut onli dat. She nut poot in her pluggi 4 a week - mebbe lungr dependin on how deez posts bowt her pluggiz reseeevd.

Heer da ting bowt pluggiz n lissin kerfoooli 2 deez werdz coz dey da most importin ob ull...

It a privilig 2 pluggi. Nut ull bimboz hab pluggiz n pluggi priviligz. N, if a bimbo nut tek ker her pluggiz or if she neglekt dem, doz privigz remooovd 4 a tym til da bimbo ern dem bak. Dem da rooooolz.

It herd 2 poot in2 werdz how dis fekt bimboz. For dem, seben deyz a beri lung tym. Bimboz ten 2 lib in da momin n nut so gr8 at tinkin so far hed. Sebin deyz sownz a lyftym wen it cumz 2 nut pluggyi-n.

Dis nut da ferst tym dat cindi nut hab her pluggiz 4 dis mownta tym. Tinki ebin lunga dat tym ashoooli. She nut follo instruknz n she tol nut 2 ebin tuchi doz pluggiz til furda notiss.

Dat tym, cindi wen down hill pretti fast n bi da tym she told 2 rite bowt how she feelz bowt da pluggiz in orda 2 ern dem bak, she kenna ebin sayv hessef. She hab no power left; no energi et ull. Den, wun nite bowt 3 nytz l8r, she rote bowt how da pluggiz fekt her. She ern dem bak. She told 2 go poot bak in pluggi n instantli ull da power retirn n she feel gr8 gin.

Sumtymz, cindi feelz so tyrd at ni ni tym she wunderz if she hab da energi 2 pluggi. It seemz liki it jus so ez 2 fall in2 bed wiffowt pootn in her pluggi. But, heer da ting: if she go wiffowt her pluggi, she nut neerli so happi or cuntint. It so beri much werth da effirt.

Wen bimboz nut do as tol, dis nut jus fektz dem n der statamyn. Dis afekz da onnirz statamyn. Tinki onnirs sumtymz feel dat da bimboz nut ker 4 dem. Dis jus nut troo. Sumtymz, bimboz bit lazi or totles. But, cindi ken c dat dis ken cumstrood az nut kerin.

Bimboz ker. Bimboz ker a gr8 deeel n it portin 2 bimboz dat onnirs happi n contin, nut jus wif dem but wiffin demseffz. So, bimboz must nut lazi or unfocussd. Bimboz do az tol 4 meni meni reeezinz.

Bimboz nut perfekt. Onnirz nut perfekt. Dey bof maki mistekz. But, bimboz tri alweyz gud n wel behayvd n dey unnerstan dat der displin wen dey nut. Dat ok. Dey spekt dat. Da cunnekin musta restord.

But,it justa dey 2 in da lyf ob bimbo wiffowt her pluggiz n justa wayt n c...bi da enda of da week, bimboz powa les n she hanka 4 her pluggiz. Dat feelin alredi der ashooooli. Paw cindi.

Trust

I have a tendency to be having such a lovely time in my life sometimes, loving the whole process of becoming submissive, sexy and pliable; happy, confident and sure of myself that I can forget why the dominant person is making all this happen in the first place.

In a nutshell, he likes the control and I like (and really need) to be controlled. We don't have the same rights because that is what I said I wanted; not just verbally one day on the spur of the moment but in a carefully written document that explained what I wanted to achieve; then, and now.

But, the dominant men in my life are not ogres. They can be witty and good fun and light and sometimes...well...I can forget that if you cross them, they can get really mad. And, I can forget that when I am corrected for taking back some control, I can be petulant about that before I get the point.

When in London, I ran about trying on corsets and visiting latex shops where I tried on hoods. I was having my first face to face meeting with kinky people. I was on my own. I was just having a blast!

As I relayed my experiences over the google chat with great excitement and pride of my corset purchase, it (stupidly) did not even occur to me that it was going to be too much of a problem that the one thing I had not done, was the one and only thing I had been told to do.

Silence speaks louder than words at times and so it did: sent to Coventry - again.

Did I rail against my correction? You bet I did. I was furious about it. I thought it deeply unjust. I believe I used the word cruel to describe the consequences. (Harsh is another word I may have considered and strict sadist may have been another thought I had. I considered tough love but it didn't quite have the sense I wanted to convey of my righteous indignation!)

But, the penny has finally dropped. I had been, and, oh dear, this is not easy: I had been disobedient. I had ignored the control and now I was being controlled in a way that I would find very unpleasant. It has been a devil of a week as I go through this process of correction. The girl returned in all her glory.

But here's the thing: that's no good for me any more. I want and need the containment because that's how I function best. That is when I am most happy and when the people in my life are most happy, too.

It can't be easy to train a woman like me. I didn't come down in the last shower and I have an air of confidence about me now to the point where you might say that I have come into my own. I feel a surge of confidence and self assurance that has a power about it. When I wear my corset heaven knows I may bowl someone over with my sense of power!

I think I just forgot what it is all about. I think I was having such a good time that a little act of disobedience didn't seem all that big of a thing. But, it was to him, you see, because I had forgotten who was the one in control and it was not meant to be me.

I've had my little rebellion. Mentally, I've placed a bomb under his chair! But, I get it now. I did a bad, bad thing and this correction of mine, uncomfortable and unsettling as it is, is designed such that I think more than twice before ever disobeying an instruction again.

I do want to say that this particular form of correction - ignoring - does not come without its difficulties. You can't see what is happening to the girl and the dom/top truly has no idea if the correction is working as it should or not.

I have chosen to trust that this is occuring because it is considered 'for my own good'. I have chosen to believe in him and his ways. He has never let me down before. I truly believe that this form of correction (which has gone on for a lengthy period of time) can only be applied when there is a strong connection and a deep level of trust.

In my case, I'm welcome to grow. It's fine if I even feel a sense of power. But, ignoring the dominant's orders is just not on.

Grounded

Life has a way of bringing you down to ground fast. There was a twelve hour turn around between my husband collecting me from the airport and the taxi driver knocking on the door to whisk my husband away back to the airport and out of my arms. It is only 6 am and technically I could sleep for another hour before I wake my son for the first day of a new school term, but jet lag suggested that writing, plopped up on pillows in bed might be a better way to spend the time.

Twenty four hours of sitting in a plane (and we honestly did do that due to issues with flights) has a way of insisting that you submit - submit to the fact that if you want to live in Australia and travel to the UK or the US, you have to sit tight and accept the restrictions.

This time, not only was I submitting to the geography of the world, but I was returning home after nearly three weeks of doing exactly as I pleased. It was I who decided what to do with my day, how to do it, what to spend money on, where to go and how to get there. I basked in the luxury of being responsible for no-one but myself. If I wanted to walk in Kensington Gardens at first light and eat Eggs Royale and drink jasmine tea at the Serpentine Restaurant watching London wake up, then that is exactly what I did.

It didn't take long for my husband to set me straight when I returned home.

"You're not used to having a dominant around, are you?"

"Not at all," I replied, cheekily.

"Then, let's start as we mean to go on, shall we? Bend over the bed and I'll fetch the cane."

"But, I don't like the cane."

"That's why you must have it."

After that, he yoosd his girl and suddenly it all came flooding back - the value of being an owned girl and having a dominant in one's life. Eggs Royale was delicious but if I had to choose between this or that, I confess I'll take this. Simply delish!

Submission more right than ever

The past two weeks have been a very special time for me. I have loved my time in London and my daughter assures me I have seen more of London now than most Londoners. I really have done a great many things.

The past few weeks have been a burst of independence for me. Perhaps it was inevitable that by embracing this opportunity - opening my mind to all sorts of opportunities and ideas - that I might forget myself a tad. I confess that for a time a daily ritual was not adhered to.

I don't believe in giving excuses because I am responsible for the decisions I make but I do want to say that living in such close quarters with my daughter (who for now is entirely vanilla) made it difficult to behave in my usual way. Nonetheless, there is an issue of non-compliance which will no doubt be addressed in good time and I, of course, accept and expect that. If an owned girl can't comply with simple commands then there is a big problem that requires correction. Happily, I am back on track with that.

Time without his girl has most definitely set my owner's mind thinking and he has informed me that he wants to embrace our power exchange in a more complete way and that if I accept this, and of course I do, that issues such as non-compliance and poor behaviour might find me in rather uncomfortable positions. As I said to him, if he wants that, then I want that.

This has been a period of extraordinary growth for me in a great many ways. I can feel myself bursting over with ideas and thoughts, but no thought is greater in my mind than that I love being an owned girl: that I embrace my limits and containment with a song in my heart and that I am thankful to have the attention and care to which I have become so accustomed.

I revel in my submission, deplore disconnection, adore my relationships and embrace myself for who and what I am. A shot at independence has cemented in my mind just how right this life is for me. Nebr feer: da bimbo bak soon.

Pain and punishment

I am actually working flat chat right now with no time to spare, but a couple of migraine headaches in the past week has forced me to slow down and thus I found myself having a read of new blog posts on my blog roll this evening for a bit of light entertainment. I happened to notice Pygar’s ‘pain and punishment’ and had a good ole read there. Why is that topic so endlessly fascinating to me, I’d like to know?! I left Pygar a comment – thoughts on the top of my head and the tip of my tongue - and then I thought it might be fun to elaborate on them a bit here.

A good many submissives have an innate understanding, perhaps learned through experience that the Dominant is often not just playing around. He really does want the submissive to learn to do things his way and if she doesn’t do things his way, she may well find herself being corrected in a way that will be memorable and unpleasant. Even in the most relaxed of situations, and I think of my husband and I as fairly relaxed about D/s in the sense that there are very few ‘rules’ per se, he expects that I will behave in a way that accepts that we have a certain dynamic and when push comes to shove, he’s the boss.

This dynamic is always there but I think there is just something or other in the makeup of the submissive mind that feels obliged to test out the Dominant from time to time. For example, my husband had been away for 5 weeks when he arrived home last Friday night and proceeded to have his way with me. It is what I wanted. Desperately. And yet, there came a moment when I said, “I’m not sure that this is appropriate. Shouldn’t we just cuddle a while?”

If he’d ‘wimped out’ on me I would have been a mess but true to form he upped the tempo and therein he assured me that he was the boss and that I had better just toe the line; fast! Perfect. That is just how I needed it to go. I wasn’t manipulating him. I didn’t plan it to be that way but my mind simply had to know if he was still up to the task of being the guy I needed. In this way, I think women sometimes misbehave because they need to see the outcome of the misbehaviour and if that is pain and punishment, so be it.

However one plays out ‘pain and punishment’ it seems to come down to issues of the dynamic between the two people. I made the comment on Pygar’s page that I dance with the Dom according to well learned steps. Once that dynamic is well in place, there seems less and less need to try to alter those steps. One can perhaps move in different ways but if it is a tango, it is a tango and if it is a waltz, it’s a waltz. One can move around the dance floor as the mood takes one, but one still has to use the appropriate steps.

My dynamic with my mentor, as an example, is clear. There is a degree of respect inbuilt into the dynamic and we never deviate from that. Well, I did once, unwittingly. It was one of those moments in life when one of my buttons had been pressed and I reacted fast and furious. My reply dripped with sarcasm but I was too busy being incensed to even take that in. I soon learned that sarcasm was completely and utterly unacceptable to him.

Did I learn because I was corrected or because he was so very clearly upset with me? Well, I’d say it was both. Bottom line, I recognized that my behaviour should never, ever be repeated and I have not had the slightest desire to ever put that to the test. It was a step I was unsure about. We stopped. He intervened, taught me the step in slow motion such that I would always have that step down and we moved on. I must say that I approve of this method. I like learning how to dance well. It is comforting and reassuring to walk out on that dance floor and have the confidence to dance well.

Over time, my husband and I have done all sorts of things; a few daily swats, a weekly correction, punishment for misbehaviour and fairly long bouts where our dynamic has no punishment or real pain at all. They have all had their place in our lives as we evolve. But I think most of all, I want to be thought of as “good”; as knowing what he wants and fitting snugly into my place underneath his wing. I just want to be loved; turned on; aroused, pleasing.

Sometimes, that means there is pain and sometimes that even means there is some form of punishment; or both. But, at the end of the day it is about getting that feeling of ownership that reminds me that I am one of the lucky ones: owned; cherished; much loved.

Still learning

In my last post I made mention of how we have a tendency to think of our lives in story form. After all, a year begins with a sense of hope as to how things will go, there is a middle to the year, but it is not until the year is over that we can assess how things have actually gone and whether the year (the story) was a success or otherwise.

I had in my mind a thought to share my kinky notebook with you in this post and in so doing, to explore all the ways I feel I have grown over the past year. It didn’t work out so well. There is so much detail in that notebook of mine and it was getting ridiculously complicated. I hope you can take me at my word that I have definitely made lots of progress with my submissive state and as well, how I function as a complete human being.

It seems more prudent to write here in my last post of 2010 what I have yet to fully grasp in terms of being a submissive woman. This gives me a focus going into 2011 so that hopefully sometime next year I can report my issue is fully licked.

The biggest issue for me is that I have trouble getting into trouble. I find it damaging to my sense of self as a “good girl”. If I am in trouble, says my complex mind, then I am not perfect and hence I must be bad (and a huge disappointment and deserving of banishment).

This is a long, ongoing saga. I remember Rich (the man who helped me accept my submissive nature a few years ago) saying to me after I had or hadn’t done something or other, that I was a bad girl. I remember how I felt and there was nothing at all erotic about it. I felt awful.

We explored my feelings and I remember telling him that my mother used the word “bad” and still does. “Bad dog!” she will say. I remember asking her not to refer to my oldest son in that way. “You’re a bad boy!” I never get upset with my mother but at the time he was a confused two year old child and his mother was sitting in a hospital with tubes coming out of her. I was upset that I couldn’t care for my son and baby and she was upset that I was ill. She defended herself and I just went into my shell. I have always hated the thought of calling someone “bad” and I didn’t want to ever feel that I was bad. Rich tended to use the word “naughty” after that.

It is the absolute truth that I always wanted to be a good child and I was thought of as a good child. I was the good girl at school and at home and if I had revolutionary thoughts or idea or plans, I kept them to myself and quietly went about achieving my goals in a non-demanding and non-confrontational way.

I loathe being in trouble with my husband and one of my incredibly big breakthroughs is that I am able to say very easily now that “I am sorry”. It was hard to accept the blame for things; to accept my share of wrongdoing; to acknowledge that my lack of control, for example, was responsible for the argument we had.

I’ve always been relatively quick to apologize if you allow me a few minutes, hours or at most a day, depending on the circumstances. I want very much to put an end to the unpleasantness. But, in the heat of the moment, that could be very hard for me to do. On that score, the progress is truly significant.

The issue that remains is that I find myself wanting to avoid unpleasantness altogether. It has seemed to me that if I could just be strong enough to self soothe I could withstand almost any circumstance without sharing it or asking for support or forgiveness (or whatever I needed to share). If I withheld information and purported to be perfectly all right then unpleasantness would be avoided. I wouldn’t be in trouble in any way and I would not have disappointed in any way. I would not be thought of or called “bad”.

Of course, there is a price to pay for such a stand. The connection between the top and bottom is weaker, there is a sense of being a fraud and there is some resentment too that I was allowed to get away with this in the first place. The thinking goes, ‘if he paid a bit more attention, it would be patently obvious that I am not as good as I state. Nobody is that good, for Pete’s sake. Nobody is so self sufficient, least of all a submissive such as me!’

I am encouraged to “let go”. I have said in the past, “but if I let go, if I just naturally say what is on my mind, or if I tell you everything, I’ll be in trouble.” (or words to that effect) The response was quite simply, “Then, be in trouble and take the correction. Dolls learn from correction, don’t they?!”

Dolls do learn from correction, it is true. Yet the issue remains that to be transparent is to reveal myself as the flawed person that I am. I’m not nearly as strong as I’d like to be either but the thinking goes, ‘at least I can learn to be strong and stand on my own two feet, whereas to be so vulnerable, so liable to being hurt and to being rejected and thought of as a disappointment is just too painful’.

The way I tried to reconcile this problem in my mind is to be very mindful of the way that I communicate and I have found this strategy goes a long way. If I want to tell my husband something, or ask for something, or if I want peace to reign but still want to voice an opinion, I do it with a great deal of tact, with diplomacy, at an appropriate time and completely aware that it must sound and seem polite to his ears. If he chides me it takes rather a long time for me to find the courage to try again to be honest with him about my feelings, my needs or thoughts.

Be assured, over the year my life and my relationships are vastly improved. I am very happy. But, I cannot deny that I do withhold certain thoughts and feelings out of a sense that this brings peace and stability. I continue to doubt the thinking that asks the submissive to reveal all to her dominant, to get in trouble, to accept the correction, learn and drive on. I accept it in theory. However, to be considered less than perfect and to risk the abandonment or derision of the dominant is something I continue to find very difficult to do. I know this is not a good thing and somehow rectifying this flawed thinking in my mind is a high priority goal for 2011.

2010 has been a very fruitful and happy year for me. I’m an incredibly lucky girl and I know it. I have a husband I adore and who adores me. I have wonderful friends who support me, inspire me and sustain me. I have a terrific family and I have the opportunity to grow, to learn and to write. Who could ask for more?

May 2011 be a very happy, successful and loving one for you all.Happy New Year!