The Four Questions

 I have circled back several times to the work of Byron Katie. It's such a simple remedy she offers for the thoughts in our heads that often hold us back from experiencing satisfaction with our lives. Although I could see the value in it, my instincts told me to go to other places - more or less, to felt states. It seemed the right place for me since I was acutely aware that I wasn't in touch with my feelings. I printed out a few years ago a list of feelings, trying to get in touch with those states, to identify and be willing to feel them all. I credit yoga and particularly yin yoga with the great results achieved.

To explain, a few times in a typical day I ask myself the question, 'How are you feeling?'. I feel into my body for the answer and accept whatever comes up. For example, my mother is currently in palliative care. She almost passed away last week, but rallied again, and now she is offered her medication but doesn't necessarily take it, and she is offered food but doesn't necessarily eat it. She is made comfortable and left to sleep whenever she wants to. I sit beside her, and sometimes she wakes and we chat, or after a time I quietly leave her be. 

So, I ask myself 'how are you feeling about all this?' I feel that she would say, if she had the mental capacity to sum up her life on what will be her deathbed, 'I have had a great life, filled with love and fun; with dogs and plants and grandchildren. I regret nothing.' So, yes, I feel sad at saying a silent goodbye to her, but I also feel that there is so little life left, I hope that she can soon let go.

I feel some regret for her that even though she is suffering advanced dementia, she knows things. She knows my brother is gone and won't be back. She mumbles about how she can't understand that he is so far away. I feel sorry I can't change this situation for her. I feel aware of my limitations to make life sweet for those I love. I'm aware that she has been inclined to be self-centered and my brother finds that tough. I am aware that I prefer not to focus on the flaws and instead look to see the strengths. She's been remarkably strong, resilient and kind. She's a whole person. She will die as she lived, with an abundance of strengths and weaknesses. She's human.

In this waiting pattern, the never-ending journeys up and down the highway, the understanding I have that I must begin to think ahead to a funeral service, I call on patience and sit in that space of being in between - alive and noting moments of life more intensely. My mother is dying, her dog almost died at the same moment she did last week, and there is a poignancy to the details of a day. Is it the last time I bring in the dog to visit my mother? Is it the last time we exchange a smile? 

I feel particularly dismayed about the Bondi shootings, a place I have gone with my grandson, my son, my husband. How quickly life is expunged with a knife wielding person in the crowd. Our sense of safety as Australians is currently shattered. I acknowledge the sadness. The trick is to acknowledge it all, in order to allow it to move into something else.

This whole journal, at its core, has been about expressing a part of me that is not fully expressed, and can't be fully expressed in my life.  I have experienced a lot of emotions around this - frustration, sadness, anger, disappointment; maybe even some relief that I am being saved from myself. That's a thought that has sat there for decades. I know that if left to my own devices I would slide down the slippery slope of submission, further than it may be healthy to go. I strongly believe that we have a variety of selves inside us. So, there's the part that wants to glide, to not think, and there's the part that loves to think, to research, to ponder, to discuss, and to learn. It just could be that that part needs more expression, not less. I am open to inquiry, to the mystery; the unknown. 

Okay, so here's the thought on which to do The Work as devised by Byron Katie.

'My life is not complete because I cannot wholly express my submissive side.'

Q. 1 Is it true. 

Yes, I believe that to be true.

Q.2 Can you absolutely know it's true?

No. I can't absolutely know it's true. I may not like wholly expressing my submission. Maybe it would be giving up too much of other parts of myself. Maybe I can find completion in some other way. Maybe my life is already complete.

Q. 3 How do you react - what happens - when you believe that thought?

I feel self-pity. I feel stymied. I feel frustrated that I can't get cooperation. I feel closed down and sad.

Q. 4 Who would you be without that thought?

I would be free of unfulfilled expectation. I would be free of 'shoulds'. I would be open, and open to new possibilities. I would be healed. 

Turn the statement around...

My life is complete even though I cannot fully express my submissive side.

I can fully express my submissive side.

My life is complete because I can wholly express my submissive side.

For Byron Katie, the task is to get to the statement, 'I have everything I need here right now.'

Is it possible that making too much of this part of us - and it is just a part - be that submissive or dominant - is actually hiding from clear view...contentedness??

Searching to return

For all the 'noticing', the self-examination, the determination to provide myself adequate self-love; for all the meditation and mindfulness and attention to the breath; for all the understanding of personality and damage in childhood and odd behaviors that accrue from that; for all the thoughts about karma and why I came into this life as I did, and what lessons there were for me to learn; for all that I have and am grateful for; for all the efforts I put into loving unconditionally and the expressions of love offered to me, there is one thing that refuses to change.

I remain profoundly kinky.

If meditation eases my mind because I am able to reach a peaceful state when meditating, then it is dominance - a combination of will and innate desire - that relaxes my body and empties my mind, leaving nothing but a state of bliss no better or worse than the sacred mindset of a guru.

I am sitting on the top of the mountain, elevated.

Here's the truth: If I were to have access to experiences that led to submissive joy in an even vaguely regular way, I'd never have explored meditation. I would have had a portal into bliss more than adequate for my needs.

I can only guess still at the lessons I am meant to learn in this life, assuming there is indeed Karma and a reason why we are born into the situation we are born, but maybe it has to do with this; wanting something I can't have and needing to find a way around that.

Maybe in this life I am meant to seek out the Sacred in another way, dealing with issues in a past life or preparing for the one that comes after this.

There was a moment at the retreat - somewhat fleeting but very significant - where there was talk of Karma, past lives and the meaning of this life for each of us personally. Maybe, it was suggested, there was a good reason for why we were born into our family, with all the rewards and difficulties of that situation.

After lunch, during free time, I took myself for a walk. It occurred to me, simply entered my mind in the silence and beauty of the landscape, that I might have been a slave or servant in a past life. As I traveled on up the mountain I began wondering if I was a slave or quite the opposite, a Queen. The more I felt into this the more a high ranking position of society seemed the more likely space. It was just a feeling, not an intellectual thought.

If I was a Queen, I thought, perhaps there was something about the submissive life that might be a lesson for a person who had been a Queen. Maybe I'd made decisions that suggested I had lessons to learn on humility. It's a weird line of thought, or feeling state, but that's what happened. Maybe that's why it's all so upsetting to me, to be denied those experiences.

Or, maybe I'm just being entirely selfish about it all. I feel so abundantly happy in a deep state of letting go; feel so light and joyous afterwards, that having been there I am hungry beyond measure to return.

Our 'teacher' at the retreat made a remark over morning tea; that sometimes when a person has an experience of stillness of the still mind - in other words, a state of nothingness; abundant joy, knowing, supreme love, profoundly positive - they can spend their whole lives trying to get back there.

That's me.

Being oneself

In the early period of writing in this web journal I noted the fact that I masturbated at a very early age. It seemed to be part and parcel of being a kinky girl, since so many other kinky girls had written about this as well.

I don't reject the thought that kinky girls masturbate early but what I also now know is that if a child's emotional needs are not met in childhood they use two tools to soothe themselves: masturbation and food. It stands to reason that this was the primary reason for my nightly activity between the sheets.

It's really very hard to say for sure what were the first images in my head. I was so young; maybe four or five when I started to self stimulate every night, once the lights were off and the covers enclosed me. So, I can't with confidence say that I imagined this or that image as I masturbated at that young age. However, I do know that I have many memories of images where I was being disciplined and humiliated. It was about a school environment, masters and mistresses. Considerably later, it moved into domestic environments, and even later, it became debauched; multiple use; orgies, the whole gamut of the sexual experience on the big screen in my head.

School, at first, my real school that is, was a frightening place for me. For two years it all felt foggy, wobbly. I think what happened, though I have no proof to offer, is that the teachers were making me write with my right hand when I am most certainly a left handed person. I remember having to write on the board and looking back on what I had written. It seemed indecipherable. My reports for the first two years of school, which I still have, make clear that I was unsettled and unfocused. I needed to "try harder". If you then read the report for Second Grade you'd swear this was the report of a different child. It is glowing; a high achiever, focused, motivated and self disciplined.

Of course, when I was a child there was no ADHD diagnosis, no panic attack or anxiety diagnosis; no assistance for a child that entered school life feeling foggy and wobbly. The only other difference between the first few years and Second Grade that I can ascertain, apart from the possible demand that I use my right hand, is the Second Grade Teacher. She was a tough Irish woman who brooked no nonsense and, as I recall, demanded performance from me. I was her mission and I think it is fair to say that one way or the other she got me going at school, even though I feared her and thought her a mean person. I think I just responded to the attention she gave me, even if it was not always pleasant.

At about the same time as I became this model student my ballet years were settling into place. I started ballet early at age 4, I think it was, and the first few years there were wobbly too. My ballet master was extremely strict and not afraid to criticize. I somehow found myself thriving in a strictly controlled environment where excellence was demanded of me. If you didn't get it right the first time you just kept doing it until you got it right. This was all fodder for my nights, when I masturbated myself to sleep to images of this sort of containment, including corporal discipline; something which I never received at home at any age. It wasn't the real life people in my imaginations but rather faceless sorts of people who performed roles; disciplinary roles.

For those who did in fact get a paddling or a spanking when little I don't have any doubt that most of them find this a most galling memory. If it happened to me I suppose I'd feel the same way. But, left to my own devices to more or less bring myself up, it strikes me as caring, assuming it was about care and not about abuse. In my fantasies someone cared enough to monitor, to create expectations, to discipline when there was wrong doing. These images of being disciplined were soothing to me, you see. There was a fear factor, definitely, but it was under the auspices of it being for my own good too.

I do have a couple of memories of the Third and Fourth Grades. By third grade I'd developed a fear of making a mistake such that my anxiety made it difficult for me to focus on the meaning of words at times. I imagine that, using today's understanding of what can happen to children I was having a panic attack, not unlike the way my youngest child had panic attacks in the classroom in Grade 7 when we got him some therapy for this debilitating situation. But, I got the results somehow or other and navigated my way through to the end of school frustrating most teachers because my exam results were rarely up to the expectations they had of me given my standard of work through the year in class. I lived a certain kind of hell during exams since my brain would freeze and I'd only remember snippets here and there.

If you fast forward to when I was having my first child, I undertook a Diploma of Education wherein there was a subject 'Educational Psychology'. Between the baby's naps I prepared for the final exam. I still have a vivid image of sitting in the Philosophy Room of my University and seeing the paper for the first time. It was complete gobbledy gook. I knew nothing. I managed to settle myself down with this thought: that I must know something.

Bit by bit, I began to see that I did know something here and there on the paper and over the course of the two hours, more and more knowledge returned to me. I thought perhaps that I might just pass. With trepidation two weeks later I went to the Notice Board and looked up my academic number to discover that I had got 17/20. I was really pleased. I looked down the notice then to see what sort of other marks were recorded and discovered that 17 was indeed the highest mark.

What I have suffered from all my life is not an ability issue and that's not to have tickets on myself. I was just born with some strengths in that department. Where I am very weak is in self esteem and self confidence. I can struggle to have confidence as to my ability to complete a task well, a perfectionism that can hold me back. And, I can have very weak self-esteem, an inability to believe that I am good enough as I am; that I have inherent worth as I came into the world.

It is an undeniable fact that my issues are greatly improved when I accept that I am a woman who needs a dominant man in her life. I really would hate to be that person. Honestly. I'm not easy to keep in line. My head can reject that need. Other women around me don't need that sort of supervision and containment. But, I do. I do. I do. I do. That's just a simple fact.

I've spoken to a number of dominant men in my life, mostly via this blog, but via other routes as well, and I know that each man has his own approach. These approaches rarely resonate with me. I am not sure why this is. Sometimes I think, well, I can't actually be 'submissive' since simply being obedient or serving doesn't do it for me.

What happened to me is that one day I began to correspond and then chat with this one person, and something therein clicked for me. It was something about an element of care that I felt. He was definitely getting something out of it for himself to have these chats. Why else would he or anyone else keep chatting? But in his case it felt that he had somehow got to the core of my needs; needs that I didn't understand myself. But, he did.

He talks about me needing to be "anchored" and interestingly I think my ground chakra is by far the weakest. I am much too often in my head. I live up there when I need to feel the ground under my feet.

Pia Mellody talks and writes about self esteem being made up of values, power and abundance notions in our heads. Self esteem is in tact when we say to ourselves that we matter as we are, when we have self control and self containment, and good self care.

There's a part of me that feels that I should be able to get to this place of healthy self esteem all on my own. I don't feel that I should be leaning on someone else to get me through this. Yet, it is hard to dispute the facts as I know them to be. I've a certain 'bimbo' sort of disposition. I do best when certain methods are used; methods for which I have a love/hate relationship. I feel, on certain days, that I am weak to need this, and yet, I rise up when those methods are in place. I am indeed anchored.

There is no one 'right' way for all of us. We do all have certain human emotional needs, of course. There are wonderful tools available for the recovery process useful for all who have need of them. I am glad to have them at my disposal. I am also relieved to have kinkiness at my disposal. It's when I accept all of me that I really thrive.

Working on yourself

I first came to know of Ram Dass when I saw him in a UTube clip in discussion with Eckhart Tolle, perhaps a year ago now. In 1997 Ram Dass suffered a stroke and in the clip I watched his speech was quite labored, slow and deliberate. So, I found it remarkable that the presentation was having such a profound effect on me. I immediately felt that I was watching someone with huge presence.

Perhaps seeing how Ram Dass has suffered - confined to a  wheelchair and with difficulty finding the right words and speaking them - made the words he did manage to speak very relateable to me. Here was a spiritual person in action, facing the limitations of his life but still  finding great joy and meaning in his life; unstoppable. It's the resilience that I respect in the face of whatever life throws at him. Since that day I look out for Ram Dass's words and I never fail to get something very positive from them.  I saved the following words:

"I think in relationships, you create an environment with your own work on yourself, which you offer to another human being to use to grow in the way they need to grow. Parents are environments for their children, lovers are an environment for their partners.
You keep working – you become the soil – moist and soft and receptive so the person can grow the way they need to grow, because how do you know how they should grow."

 I suspect that for some people of a dominant frame of mind, those who want to be responsible for and to control another person in a power dynamic relationship, there is an innate sense that they are creating the environment for their partner. It's not quite what Ram Dass had in mind, but a dominant is, in the best scenarios, creating an environment for (positive) change and/or growth.

Possibly force or strict demands are in place, and the dominant person would argue that this is entirely necessary and viable since they want the other person to change and grow in ways that please him or her, and/or in ways that would be best for the submissive and the relationship as a whole.

Is this the way this particular person should grow, was meant to grow? No-one can really answer this question, except, maybe, to say that the person is happier now under the dominant's tutelage; getting happier and more content all the time. It's hard to argue with happiness. But, let's try.

I think it is fair to say that we are all on our own particular and unique journeys through life. I like to say (to myself) that we are all walking each other home because as I get older and have been on this planet for longer, that is exactly how it feels to me. Some of us evolve towards an inner wisdom and calm within ourselves, perhaps an innate understanding of the whole process of life and death, and some of us do not go close to thinking about it much at all. Some of us are 'go go go' and some of us are introspective types. We are where we are at any place in time. It is as it is. We learn when we learn, or we don't learn much at all in this particular life. Or, maybe we are not all meant to learn much. Who knows for sure?

For many years I had a hard time with feeling that I was 'right' about something and yet I struggled to influence 'the other'. This is a tough place in marriage because a very bad decision effects both people, and the family. I don't so much blame this situation on a power dynamic dilemma as on my own limitations to have a voice and to assert my boundaries. I have such a strong desire to hand over decision making to the other that I reneged on my responsibility to say forcefully enough, when I vehemently disagreed with a decision, that I could not offer my support. This is a huge mistake and one that I won't make again. I have learned to speak my truth when necessary.

Having said that, I am the person I am, and I am in a power dynamic relationship of sorts. If push comes to shove I know I must withold my support when I absolutely disagree. Other than that, I have not found it helpful to insist, or even to expect, change or growth. For a time people will change a bit for you, if they must, but their strongest tendency is to return to their default position, to be their natural selves as they have evolved so far in time. The only person you can really change in a permanent sort of way is yourself.

This is not to say that there are no other tactics at your disposal because to change yourself is to create an environment for growth in the other. This is what Ram Dass is eluding to. When you create an environment where you grow, where you are receptive and open to the other's individuality, the other grows too. This is what I focus on.

To talk in generalities isn't helpful so I'll get specific. Over several weeks I've felt quite isolated. My husband is immersed in a project and is working particularly long hours, highly highly focused on it. This focus is 7 days a week, day and night. For a while I'm supportive and understanding but quietly, silently, over time, I become dejected. I need contact. When he doesn't provide it, I tend to isolate myself from him both emotionally and physically, as if to convince myself that it is less painful to go my own way. It isn't less painful at all and inside my own head I can feel myself breaking down, trying hard to find the patience and tolerance for his hyperfocus, but eventually and inevitably unable  to be a superhuman who is not troubled or effected by this behaviour of a spouse.

My mind tends to flirt with the worst scenarios. I imagine that he might become very ill through this overwork. I try to imagine my life without him. I can even imagine in moments that I would be in a better place on my own, not having to have these particularly painful thoughts and experiences of abandonment, or what feels like emotional abandonment to me.

Knowing that I cannot do anything to change his behaviour, certainly not permanently (see above) I began to meditate daily and to get closely in touch with my headspace. I acknowledged not just the difficult emotions that come with a sense of abandonment but I also investigated, through quiet, close observation of my thoughts and bodily reactions, where the thoughts came from. They came through fear.

I fear that things that have happened will happen again. I fear that there will be no growth, no change. I fear that we are stuck in 'park'. I fear that his behaviour is in a set pattern; rigid and dull. I fear that he simply does not know how to live life differently. I fear that, refusing to acknowledge or address his ADD symptoms, we simply can't advance to a more joyful and balanced state together.

Co-incidentally, my husband ruffed me up a bit on the couch two nights ago. He has this way of discombobulating me in the nicest of ways; reminding me that I am loved and belong, that I am safe. He told me a little of his plans, what he has in train, and whilst I can't be the eternal optimist that he is able to be; the resilient never-say-die guy that he is; I felt momentarily better just knowing that he is that guy and he's my guy and it will all be all right in the end, one way or the other.

Maybe, through the meditation and the calmness I achieved there, as well as an understanding of that fear that sits in my bones, I created the environment for him to approach me the way he did. And, maybe, by him approaching me the way he did, I was able to reach out to him in the middle of the night and embrace him, taking the chance that I'd wake him when he was dog tired. He told me on the phone just now not to worry about waking him, just to get the love I need when I need it.

These are small, but significant changes. The best I feel I can do is to create an environment for him to grow as he was meant to grow; not to grow as I would want him to grow for me, but to grow as he was meant to grow; to be his best self. I'm not in control here. Nor is he in control of how I was meant to grow. All he can do is create an environment to the best of his ability and focus where I can be as I was meant to be.

He most likely won't achieve perfection in my eyes and nor will I achieve perfection in his eyes. But, in respecting our uniqueness we are creating a space of belonging to one another at the same time as we walk our own paths through life and learn as we learn. There is a mismatch, there is no denying this. I continue to find ways to look at the mismatch and to work with and respect our different ways of operating in the world. I'm never going to stop wanting affection and tenderness in a regular sort of way and he is never going to stop needing a lot of his energy to be focused on his business life.

In many ways it is not unlike parenthood. A child is born and we experience its personality and traits. We, as parents of that child have a duty to honour that particular child; to appreciate the child as a unique being and to provide an environment for the child to grow as he or she was meant to grow. We steer the child this way or that, but if we are wise, we study the strengths and remind the child of those strengths at the same time as we quietly work with the weaknesses. We respect that the child has his or her own path to walk, not the path that we think is best. We accept the package at the same time as we provide a safe and nourishing place of shelter where the child may flourish with integrity.

I'd like to think that there are plenty of people out there who consider Ram Dass's thoughts before they take on the responsibility of a submissive, or a child. If the Dominant can't work on himself, or herself, to create an environment where their submissive can grow as she or he should, then what is created within the bond may have a false value.

The dominant's power

Whilst my more recent interests would appear to revolve around 'awareness' in a spiritual sense, it is actually non-awareness and quiet, subtle movements of sensibility that truly arouses my interest, both as a writer and reader, but also as someone who has made a study of the D/s experience.

As I came to experience it, the Dominant created a sort of magic, or other-world sort of experience for me. I was sometimes off-balance; unaware. This was their creation, to ensure that I didn't know what was going on; that I was sure of not much at all; that I was surprised; discombobulated; emotionally charged in one way or another.

It was as if I was playing tennis with a professional tennis player and whilst I was jumping on the spot trying to predict which way the tennis ball would be served, so frisky that I imperceptibly jumped one way a split second before the ball left the net, so the ball went in the opposite direction.

One spends a lot of time trying to perfect that instinctive move until it dawns that one cannot perfect the move when trying too hard. Best to relax and do one's best. Sometimes one will jump right and sometimes one will jump wrong, but it is a 50:50 thing.

When completely in the groove, in the palm of the Dominant's hand, I learned to adore the unpredictability and to revel in experiences of such intense preparation on his part, that I had missed the possibility of the thing entirely. It was then that I felt that things were completely out of my control, and that the sense of scrumptious free fall was completely worth the realization that I had been outfoxed.

And there it is: I do love to be outfoxed.

And, finding pleasure in being dum dum, when I am in fact not dumb, and know myself not to be dumb; that's a sort of outfoxing right there. Subtly, imperceptibly; without awareness of what was truly happening, I was being taken to a state of mind where I had no power, no ability nor desire to disagree.

Yep. I was an 'objekt'. How could I deny what seemed/seems so categorically undeniable? If, when my mind was unpacked and thrown away I felt an empty headed joy, how could I disagree that this was what I was and had always wanted to be?

Are lies involved in this sort of dream-making surreal state? I do believe so, yes. It's hazy; not easily proven, but I do believe that lies are told to bimbo. There's this little silent gap; that teeny tiny moment occasionally when she says in her mind, 'hmmm, could that be right?'. And, she knows in that moment; she knows that there is a porky being told to her.

It's a funny thing because a fib should matter. Lies usually make for distance between people, making intimacy all the more difficult. Yet, there are situations when it hasn't mattered to me all that much. Bit by bit, a state of belief and disbelief has braided together.

It's not so much a 'co-dependent' stance that is being taken in her decision to stay silent about her feelings (although that could be part of it) but rather that there's a fear that in declaring her belief of the true state of things, something magical will disappear. We so want to hold the Other in high regard. That's it, I think. [edit: on re-reading I was gobsmacked that I had so fallen into the state of 'bimbo', 'her', by simply talking about this...]

If magic is to occur again, and bimbo certainly hopes that it will, she must believe in the overall worth of the experience. If, to experience the magic of Christmas one must believe in the spirit of Christmas, or to feel the peace of a religion - faith - one must believe in a deity of some kind, then one must believe that there is magic possible between two humble people. I believe that.

The need for dominance

The way you can tell if you are a naturally attuned submissive, it seems to me, is how you respond to a lack of dominance in your life. It could be for any reason - you've mutually agreed to end your relationship, or to have a break in the arrangement, or your dominant is busy and preoccupied, or you've asked for a break from the dominance yourself. The outcome for you, no matter the reason, is a sense of loss and disequilibrium. Far from the unequal nature of the D/s relationship providing this disequilibrium, as some people may judge it,  the submissive mind processes the so-called equality that she finds herself sharing with the dominant - present or absent - as deeply disquieting.

To go one step further, I think the submissive who finds herself without a dominants input can experience that as feeling unloved. The simple fact is that a submissive mind such as mine views dominance as an act of love and thus it doesn't strike her as illogical that a lack of dominance can be viewed as love having disappeared from her life.

I'm not saying that I can't have moments of happiness and joie de vivre without a feeling of dominance hovering over my head. It doesn't prevent me from revelling in a piece of classical music or a favourite CD, from enjoying arranging a vase of flowers or having a conversation with an interesting person. I can forget that foreboding sense of loss that hovers over me most of the time when dominance is absent from my life, but what I can't do at such times is feel even fleetingly as if all is right with my world.

I have wondered if this sense of loss is about losing challenge, but it is too simplistic an answer since I can challenge myself in others ways and remain feeling incomplete. No, what I miss is the opportunity to sink deep into my inner world because he has sunk deep into his inner world. He is the conduit to my sense of peace because his natural and instinctive desire to be the boss together with his understanding that I need a boss allows me to fly free.

If I am truly honest here, reveal the inner workings of my mind, I need that boss to not waver.  It is no favour to me to not provide the necessary discipline, in spite of the fact that I truly loathe being in trouble. I can't even begin to tell you how much I despise being punished for misdeeds because my punishments are decided from the short list of those things I utterly loathe. Yet, when I have trawled through all the negative emotions over that time I always return to the fact that nothing could possibly be more challenging to me than no dominance at all.

I occupy myself with many activities and thoughts in a week but it is remarkable how often my mind returns to some element of the D/s dynamic. It is in moments when I am reminded of what I should and should not do (a very few examples might be when I get ready for bed and it is time to insert a plug, or after dinner when I remind myself that I am not meant to eat anything else until the next day, or when I go the nail salon and give instructions as to the shape of my nails, or how I respond when I am approached sexually, or what I determine to wear in the morning...) that I experience comfort. Dominance has formed a part of my life, lightened by load, made me feel beautiful, cherished and loved. Each moment my mind returns to this reality, it fills me with a sense of gratitude and I live over once again the wonder that someone has allowed me to live as I was designed to live, as I naturally entered this world.

I wish I could report it differently but the facts are that without a strong sense of submitting to a fairly unwavering dominant I feel discombobulated to the point where it is very hard to get through the night without waking for long stretches. In fact, this is when I feel it the most. The days are not nearly as bad as those moments when my sub-conscious is allowed to roam during sleep. 'Something's wrong' it seems to say and suddenly I am wide awake, pining, wanting, deeply desiring what I don't have: restrictions, demands, limits and rules. I lay my head on the pillow and pray that I may sleep through to morning, but it is rarely the case when I am a free agent.

I know enough that in all situations I must adhere to a certain way of structuring my life and of thinking about myself and the processes of my day. To abandon what I know to do, just because I am on my own for any length of time is the path to a sense of feeling dysfunctional and unloved. I stay the course. This is how I get by. But, to feel cherished; to feel at peace within my own mind such that a full night's sleep is mine there must be that person who is the conduit to a sense of peace and well being. We all need nourishment, hydration, shelter and sleep. To my list of needs I would add, dominance.

Drilling down

First of all, I want to record that I am happy. There are reasons for this sense of happiness, although I see it more of a 'welling' of happiness, something with its own internal logic and not necessarily related to external factors. But, since I'm trying to be 'aware' of this new felt sense of happiness and how that came to pass, let's drill down.

First thing that comes to mind: I've little pressure in my life at this time, especially today. I'm typing away here at my desk, but I've precious little that really needs to be done. I'll go and explore the world a little once I've tapped away on these keys and have myself a little adventure. Love adventures!

Second thought: In this moment, my whole family seems settled and happy. Gosh, that's a fabulous feeling. My eldest son had his 30th birthday in the past week - a great party, just the way he wanted it - and I got to meet/meet up with all his closest friends.  It's fabulous to see how much he is loved and embraced, especially by his girlfriend's family. It was very good karma at that party and at dinner at home one night this week I could see that he had 'lifted'. He's happy.

My daughter has started her second year of teaching, a job she adores. She and her boyfriend have moved into their first house together. They adore one another; very, very connected. My third child has come right of his shell, sewing some wild oats now, fully immersed in a job he loves and so much more social and responsible; all good things. And, my youngest child, my baby, is doing just fine travelling around other countries with his mate. He's registered at his institution of choice and it's all good for him too - he's maturely fabulously.

Third thought: It's no co-incidence that once the family were fully ensconced in their lives that this automatically made way for my husband and me. We've been...happy...together lately, planning things and doing things and very much on the same page. Knowing I had to be out of the house by 10 am yesterday he woke me with some pampering and then a lovely breakfast on a tray in bed. It felt so...loving and tender. The kiss 'good morning' was sweet. We've watched the tennis most nights whilst partaking in a late dinner and although he's popped into his office to check his screens, it's been fine. It's been very...settled...around here this week in all these ways. My mother seemed much better yesterday and happy I agreed to go to a concert with her next week. This gives her something to look forward to and it makes me happy to make her happy. All these things are good. I love seeing the people in my life happy. That makes me happy.

Fourth thought: Schedules and routines begin next week. February brings with it routine, which I appreciate, but until January is done and dusted I'm loving the lack of routine. I'm sorting through the decade of paper on my desk, going through the storage space downstairs, sorting out and altering spaces. It's 'me and my house' time and I love that. I've a relationship with this house too, just as I do people.

Fifth thought: The 'power exchange' side of things hasn't been nearly so intact and yet it hasn't felt...bad. I've felt rebellious lately which I attribute to several factors, not least of which is the reading I've been doing; important articles that have opened my eyes to issues that may have led me down the path of considerable unhappiness in the past. I've been working privately and internally with confronting my fears, standing up for myself and being assertive, which, on the surface, looks like it doesn't meld well with accepting that I don't have any real control. Inside myself, I know there is progress going on, but I'm not ready to express that in words just yet.

I am pondering, however, if the Crystal Bowls Meditation that I did recently has indeed had an effect on me. I noticed I choked a bit during that meditation and thought that strange since that had never happened before, and was later told that the meditation was attuned to the throat chakra. Since the meditation it has felt that I have had to clear my throat several times and that's most unusual for me as well. The throat chakra is the chakra related to speaking one's truth. Speaking out has to be a bit of a shock for any dominant man used to talking to an agreeable, compliant bimbo who asks few questions about the reasons for and desired outcomes of her tasks, but the thoughts that have been held back are rising up and finding expression. Personally, I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. I think it opens the door for a closer, stronger connection, but the jury is still out and I'm certainly not the judge in session.

I suppose you could say that bimbo took things waaaaay too far when she had a go at usurping control. I can't imagine what she was thinking (that this behaviour would end well? that she'd actually get away with it? that she wanted to get away with it??) except to say that sometimes bimbo doesn't look that far down the track...

I know this much. When push comes to shove...when all factors are considered...when we reach the bottom line...whether she's right or wrong...whether the grievance is handled in a way that is satisfying to her, or not...she's grateful that the dominance remains intact and that she is shown her place. This outcome is deeply satisfying to such an extent that she can bunker down into consequences. She doesn't have to like the consequences to respect them.

Here's the honest truth: Today (and admittedly probably not tomorrow...and the day after...and so forth) she's loving the freedom; revelling in the fact that she's a bimbo on the loose with a whole afternoon in front of her to frolic freely. Yes, she's taking the credit card with her but promises to be judicious with it. Wonder where bimbo can get a slice of gluten free orange cake...(PS Relax, that was a joke, she didn't go near cake. As if...!)

Stop the shit

It's been...eventful...and I barely know where to start. It's been about my emotions - the spilling over of them and the repercussions of them  - and it's been about intimacy through a shared dynamic, and it's been about accepting my own faults. It's been about so much that at the moment it's just a smattering of disjoint thoughts.

There is a recognition as well that you can't share what you can't put into words. If your perceptions and growth can't be expressed coherently, maybe you haven't quite reached the place where you need to go. Yet, I want to record something here and see where it goes, how it expands and grows in my mind. It feels like I have a palm full of seeds that could grow into a very good crop if I tend them well. Right now my thoughts are just separate seeds living right beside each other but not amounting to much until put into the ground and watered; left to mature and reach for sunlight. Still, I have the seeds. That's a start.

First of all, a situation occurred where I felt alienated. Experiencing a sense of alienation - whether true or just perceived in that light - shatters me. I know it shatters me and my mind protected me this time by telling me, first, that I wasn't troubled by it, and soon after that, it told me that I needed to stand up for myself. If memory serves me rightly only a few days before this event (perhaps seeing it coming and getting ready?) I pulled from my file the long article my psychologist had given me about 'The Subjugation Trap'. As I read it, it was blatantly obvious this time around that I fell firmly into the category of a subjugated person, potentially. The reason for this is that I wasn't assertive. I'd blended into people to keep the peace in many ways and according to the article I needed to learn to ask for things in a way where I was listened to. I needed to see myself as my own person.

I made notes. I began cue cards to keep me on track in my own mind. By God, this time I was going to get this right. When the time came to speak again my physiological responses weren't really under control but I wanted to talk. I decided to say as little as possible in the hope of staying in control of myself. But, in this power dynamic of mine there's always going to be a way to show me that I'm not the one in control and eventually I had to speak first. It came out as 'girl language', formal speech, an immediate and resounding red flag that I was upset and feisty.

I found myself making statements and asking questions in the most direct way ever that I can remember. This was, I'd agree, akin to waving a red flag at a bull and I'd say this conversation was as close to a 'fight' as we have ever had. (Still, I was proud of myself for making those statements!) I'd punched some accusations and statements over the net and he volleyed some others right back at me.

It's not usual for him to say all that much in one mouthful and as the words spewed out I could feel the bile rising. I was angry. As I do, I tried to settle myself. I was aware of my quickening breath and the tightness in my chest. I knew all too well that my brain was going haywire both with the messages being inputed but also with an emotional state now out of control.

I don't think I am what you want.

Yes, it is embarrassing now to look back and see how I played the feminine card. A little alienation on my part catapulted into the mix of words that had us both smashing balls with Exocet missile capability.


More was said, a good airing of grievances on both sides, but as we know in this dynamic, amongst people who have a tendency to be a bottom or a top, the Top prevails.  Thank God for that.

Stop the shit.
Bimbo was wrong.
Get back to pluggiz.
Talk later.

My anger has a beginning and an end. It burns out. It didn't burn out immediately but the next morning the thought began to occur that he had a point. I had deceived. I hadn't played by the rules. I hadn't just been deceiving him but I had been deceiving myself. My goals weren't achievable until I took responsibility myself  for my erroneous thinking about my strategy and stopped being slack, falling back into thinking traps of justifying my actions. He'd removed himself from the deal because the contract with him was broken and I did need to accept the fact that I'd erred. I had. It was my fault, looked at that way.


I always understood that if he knew every last piece of information about this subject that he'd correct, punish; insist. And, whilst I did the right thing about 98.5% of the time, I wasn't working to the rules laid out. I was achieving results, but not as fast I should have been. I know that.

This business of thinking of our arrangement as a contract - something that he emphasized - really challenged me. It was, somehow in my mind, taking two people with a range of emotions, strengths and weaknesses - human beings - and reducing that relationship to a commercial transaction. I found it galling and even insulting.

But as time has gone by I begin to see that there are concepts of a power exchange that I hadn't quite entirely understood related to the intimacy of the arrangement; another grievance of his at the time of the conversation that seemed so rich. By withholding all the information, by not being entirely honest, I'd denied the opportunity for intimacy that a power exchange dynamic provides. I don't necessarily mean sexual intimacy but the intimacy of two people sharing their lives; their frailties, their needs and their desires.

I'd failed to reveal myself and my weaknesses. I'd not revealed my failings for fear of abandonment (and thus was abandoned...). I'd made it impossible for him to do his work as he'd agreed to do. He'd removed himself from the arrangement because I'd made it clear that I wasn't willing to pay. I simply had not kept my bargain.

The whole experience - unpleasant as it was - had taught me something important, and rather than wanting to walk away from me, he'd seen it as his responsibility to me to pull me up. Maybe, he'd learned something else important about me too; that this fear of abandonment is not something that I can easily control; that it lives in my psyche and shows up without invitation. Fear has its own logic.

I'm not always easily dominated. I need relatively tight control. A partner needs to know that there will be times when it looks awfully like I want to throw in the towel. I don't. I am just hurting. I need someone who can withstand those moments, set me straight, and put me back in my place. I need someone who understands that I very much want to grow through this dynamic. I need someone to tell me to 'stop the shit'.

There's more to say, so much more. This is enough for today.

Mindfucked

I used to read the entries of dominants who talked about denying permission for their girl to cum with a certain awe and wonder. 'Dom with Pen' on tumblr (now under another name I believe) is one example of a dominant who insisted that his girl ask for permission to cum each and every time they had sex. Whether his girl needed permission to touch herself, or if she even wanted to, I can't remember.

Right from the beginnings of my BDSM explorations orgasm denial was a concept I had trouble grasping for myself. I'd been masturbating since I was a very little girl and being denied this 'right' seemed simply impossible to me. My 'training' over the past few years didn't venture over this domain either. To the contrary there was plenty of encouragement that I masturbate and climax whenever it suited me. It was part and parcel of the sluttiness that aided the transformation and it was therefore encouraged, and later, required.

It's a deliciously counter-intuitive game, to my mind anyway, to be told that one must touch oneself so many times a day. Even when busy, there is a part of the brain that never really switches off from being aroused and it reminds the girl of her purpose of course. It is a deliciously devilish game to alter these rules too and take her transformation to the next step. The girl must masturbate consistently and regularly but not cum. Indeed, edging is the modus operandi, to bring oneself to the edge of climax but never spilling over to climax.

Oddly, given my difficulties with being told not to touch for extended periods of time, my mind took to these variations of orgasm control like a duck to water. Whilst I'd had a great deal of trouble with the concept of not touching at all, touching regularly without climaxing, was something that I could do just fine.

Mind you, 'drinks' were few and far between, but I quickly got the hang of the concept that to ask or to be petulant about my frustrations and desires didn't lead to success. I learned to just hang in and bide my time - to wait.

Honesty demands that I explain that if the decision to comply was left to just my mind, problems could have ensued. To edge and not cum, sometimes for weeks, would probably have been more than I could manage without slip ups. What amazed me was that my body was in complete alignment with the rules laid out. It was happy for me to touch, to edge to my heart's content, but cum without permission it out rightly refused to do. To touch regularly was a 'no brainer' really because my need was driving me routinely back to that preoccupation but, without permission to release, I was left hungry and anxious to do it all over again very soon later. I was like a dog chasing it's tail and going nowhere, but refusing to give up.

There was another challenge that I'd been given some time ago as well that had been put on the back burner for some time and very occasionally brought up. It's a serious and not at all easy challenge, but critical to ultimately determined outcomes.To my mind one of the most essential factors of an effective Dominant is that he can be unpredictable, and unpredictably these two challenges converged. Mention of the first task kept the expectation firmly in my mind without any immediate anticipation for achievement. When the matter would come up I would never know, but occasional reference to it reminded me that the challenge wasn't forgotten; would never be forgotten.


As I've explained, the command to cum - say, tomorrow - is poignant for me. It's my mind and my body that registers this as a rare one-time opportunity for release of my needy state. It's not an opportunity I like to waste. But now, that release, so awaited, was intimately intertwined with doing so whilst undertaking the first challenge.

I suspect that the knowledge of this situation, the 24 hour warning, was the factor that led me to obsess about what was to occur, such that when I found myself with some private time the next day I bolted to undertake the preparations. Whereas in the past there has been some resistance to complete the task this time I couldn't wait to begin. Hmm.

On some level I was conscious of the change in my affections towards this task, noticing myself as I careered into action. Somewhere deep in my mind some last remnant of 'girl' noted that she had been mind fucked to feel deep affection and excitement for a task for which she had previously performed with lacklustre. But, 'bimbo' just didn't care. She was having too much fun, getting her thrills whilst they were going, not at all concerned that she had been beguiled into feeling a deep affection for the object she was working with, wanting to get up close and personal, ever and ever more deeply close.

When a girl reaches this sort of orgasmic state, one orgasm is never going to be enough. Twenty four hours later, the body craves and demands more. Again, if left to the brain, the brain would win, but as per usual these days the body said 'I'm sorry but you don't have permission.' Just as well.

Being my best

It made me smile to read the article Beware of These 10 Habit Loopholes as You Head to the Thanksgiving Feast because this is a big part of what my mentoring relationship is about, holding my feet to the fire, ensuring that I stick with my goals and not make silly excuses.

In essence,  a good eating plan will enable you lose weight quite easily. It's almost painless to lose weight so long as you make healthy choices and avoid all the empty calories such as cake and chocolate. It's not a fast way to lose weight, for me, but it is an effective and healthy way to lose weight without much pain.

Of course, we all enjoy our little indulgences and there are so many reasons we give ourselves to indulge. 'Tomorrow I'll be good', or 'But, it's a gluten free cookie'. Number 4 in the article, the 'lack of control' loophole made me wince because I used that excuse recently to no good effect. I received absolutely no sympathy whatsoever and the repercussions made it clear that it would be unwise to ever use it again. He works on the model that in this matter he has to be cruel to be kind, and over time, I came to see that he was right. I was using a bunch of loopholes in my thinking to justify my poor choices which kept me unable to lose the 4 kilos I wanted to lose.

When I stand on the scales and see the number slowly reducing over time, I am reminded that my thought processes have gradually adjusted to take account of good choices he insists I make. I haven't managed to get through a week without using up my sweets allowance (meagre as it is) but I have managed to stay within the allowance and that is a good thing.

Our habits do tend to define us. We drink a soda perhaps and think nothing of it. Yet, the evidence is in that being a soda drinker is as dangerous to one's health as being a smoker. Coca Cola won't tell you this and nor will the supermarkets who sell it to you. It's absolutely frightening how huge the sale of soft drinks is in Australia and I would take a guess it is worse in the United States. Unless we stop and think about what we do we are just pawns in their game. Soft drink is like drinking poison. It will take years off your life expectancy.

The mentoring process over the past few months has been a huge wake up call for me as I begin to see how mentoring, or shall we call it 'the dominant taking a stand to assist the submissive with her goals plan' can be incredibly effective. Not only can this relationship be applied to healthy food choices but could in effect be used to assist her (or him) with just about any other goal.

I rarely get to bed on time and thus often don't get enough sleep, and I can't seem to establish an effective daily writing plan which really irks me and holds me back from achieving my goals. I begin to see how profound it would be in my life to have someone devise rules for me to which I must abide. I've tended to think of myself as a relatively/reasonably disciplined person and yet I am beginning to see that there is a great deal of untapped potential in my day(s). I've considered much of my submissive mindset from an erotic perspective, but if I am honest I have to admit that I would respond to dominance in many other ways as well.

My mentor is strict but he knows he has to be strict, with me at least. I've been grumpy at times with the lengths to which he will go to ensure my co-operation but I have come to see that he has been altering my patterns, using his control to shift my thinking to a more effective path. It hasn't been easy to admit that I need some assistance with my daily life but it is crystal clear that I do well with a boss, and a strict boss at that.

The Devil

"This pain is not to make you sad, remember. Thats what people go on missing. This pain is just to make you more alert–because people become alert only when the arrow goes deep into their heart and wounds them."

Osho

 For all the light and love I've written about for years, there are days when I feel that some sorcerer has scourged my soul such that I am eternally damned to desire to dance with sadistic malevolence.

I might enjoy a movie, get sustenance in sustaining friends and family around my table, take pleasure in a walk through the well-established gardens of the east side, but I am only completely alive when I can tango with a well coiffed vampire, all the time wondering if tonight is the night when he might display his fangs.

To live on the edge, to face my fears, to walk into the arena and offer myself up, this is what thrills me. To be removed from the arena pulsates with pornicious provocation. The devil knows this. The devil uses this against me. The curse that plagues me demands challenge and defies easy. The visitation cannot be undone.

My sighs during the day that disclose the inner need for sadistic stimulation of my spirit are only put to rest when this masochist is in mutual motion with her oppressor.

I want dastardly. I want demanding. I want the devil.

The arrow is securely lodged. I surrender.

Battle of wills

For most people, I imagine, sexual arousal doesn't happen every day. Supposedly, men think about sex copious times a day but even then I have to think it is a fleeting thing; a short circuit of the thinking, responsible brain that knows it must attend to business/economic matters. As Nicholas Cage in The Weatherman reminds us, the brain can be obsessive and that's when arousal overwhelms us. We just can't stop thinking about it. I've certainly known that feeling and it's a good feeling, until life gets tricky because you forget something as critical to your life's happiness and well being as remembering to bring home the tartar sauce for your wife.

I'm aware that some 'bottom' partners have daily rituals - to wear a corset, or to wear no panties, or to be naked at home. Then, there are the rituals like one member of the partnership irons the shirts or pays the bills. At times, there is something very sexy about a ritual. I think, for me, it is that there is a certain amount of force - control - associated with this. Maybe I feel that rituals are better than no rituals.

Yet, if something happens every day, if it is so ho-hum and defined that there is no doubt about it, does the arousal remain? Kinksters, of course, will find their love object always desirable - be that feet, or boots or long nails - but even then, I wonder if we all don't need a rest from that endless, circuitous desire for lust.

I read this morning that a remedy for some kinks is to initiate a very unpleasant smell around the kink object so that the kinkster will associate the nasty smell with the object and want to avoid the experience. Sometimes, my ongoing lust will initiate a feeling within me that I associate with 'too much'. I know that I need to take a break - immerse myself in activities that having nothing to do with sex, lust, power exchange or control. I live with certainty that the lust won't disappear so it's not at all a risky thing, certainly a good thing, to take a break from those activities, thoughts and apparatus that make for my lust. In this way, I can return to enjoyment of the lust later.

I think daily rituals can certainly be put in place. Once you've worn a corset daily for a while, living without a corset might seem unsettling. Once you've had long French acrylic nails the thoughts of regular nails may well seem impossible. And, this is where my argument falls down. This is a daily ritual, of sorts, for me, and it is well entrenched in my life. It suggests I can do rituals.

But, I'm struggling with another daily ritual, struggling to see it as something I can do continuously and struggling to see having the ritual as arousing, even though it has an erotic component. Actually, I struggled with the permanency of the acyclic nails at first too. Maybe, I'm in that stage again; struggling to accept that my own will means nothing here. I'm struggling to accept the significance of the daily ritual as to its power and effect on my day, my state of mind, and yes, to my high state of arousal. I'm caught in the vice between understanding that obedience is 'de rigeur' and the knowledge of what the daily ritual does to me. And, right now, the struggle is not being experienced so much as a turn on but rather a bit of a turn off.

I know that I am a natural submissive. My arousal of concepts associated with this state tell me that. Yet, I do find the 'every day' concept very difficult. Like, you mean there is no time off, I ask? There are no exceptions? There is no holiday or excuse acceptable? You mean, you're going to be a tyrant; an obsessive compulsive/anal retentive; rigid? Don't get me wrong, part of me loves rigid but part of me fights rigid, tooth and nail. In a battle of the wills, who must win? Don't even bother answering. I know. I know. Sigh.

Awareness

When life is humming along and I feel at one with the world, surrendering to the state of being my natural self, submission happens very naturally and happily, I find. The internal motor hums along nicely. Life is good and not just when success radiates the air but through all the ups and downs of life.

All sorts of things can be happening that aren't all that great, but holding onto that submissive stance within myself is a surefire way to remain peaceful and blissful. No matter what is happening externally, inside I'm being true to myself. If there is one 'fact' about me, it is this - that the best way to derail my efforts to live in harmony with myself and the world is to 'forget' about the submissive instinct that runs deeply through me; to ignore those impulses that advise me how to feel, to act, to think or not think; to be in a peaceful state of mind.

If I were to attempt to make a study of the moments of happiness in one's life, as did Marion Milner back in the 1930s, by keeping an intensive diary for seven years about her mind set (A Life of One's Own), and maybe that's what I am, in fact, doing right here, I might well find that the best moments happen when I am being true to myself, and that the worst possible moments happen when I have derailed myself by not allowing myself the sense of safety, security and contentedness that a submissive stance brings.

I won't go into it in depth today but what Marion discovered is much what I have been discovering for years - that the moments when one is not thinking bring the most happiness. When one puts aside the need to think, beautiful moments happen of their own accord - delight in Vivaldi this morning on the radio, for example. I was driving the boy to school when on came Vivaldi. We were running late and he commented, "Ah, the perfect string music when running late to school." We've noticed this - that so often when we are running late, on will come some inspiring, 'get on with life' string music and off we go to school quite pumped at the promise of a new day. It does help to have the classical music station on your dial, of course.

Or, I'll put on Diana Krall whilst chopping vegetables and find myself in an instantly empty state of mind, noticing the piano, and then a trumpet, or a delightful chord of the base guitar; just delighting in those beautiful sounds. Gardening is fabulous for emptying the mind but so too are millions of moments in life when one lets all thought go - a child laughing, a dog's antics, the sun coming through the window in a certain way. It's a trick of the mind to stop thinking to allow the blissful bounty of not thinking.

My mind was all a-chatter yesterday in meditation. Except for the fact that I have trained myself to endure this awful chatter that happens sometimes and to sit still regardless, I'd have got up, desperate to get away from myself. That's why I meditate in a group because you just can't walk away, or I can't do that. It took a full 50 minutes before my bloody restless, out of control mind shut up and gave me some peace. When I had finally surrendered, I felt much more contained; in control of my own turbulent emotional state.

Now, this does happen to submissive types. If they get a feeling that they are not contained, that their submissive state is missing, that they are running free and restless, in some way they are crying out to be contained. It's the reining in by the dominant that eases the distress. Discipline becomes a much needed antidote to the distress.

In my experience, a submissive doesn't ever want to hear that she has disappointed. No matter how restless of mind, when one hears that word, such as in, "You disappoint me" a little ping goes off. 'Oh, yeah! That's my job and I've sucked at that lately. What on earth have I been thinking??!!' Call the power exchange what you will, but it all boils down to this really - that one does serve the dominant and that the end game is that they are pleased. Without that, there's nothing.

For me, awareness of life and how I live it within myself, and my submissive state of mind, are intricately related. I do best in a constant state of awareness of the need to please and the need to live life with a strong sense of presence with life; with a mind rested, open and often quite empty; an empty vessel in some ways; awareness, just...awareness.

Dancing with the Dominant

When the submissive is smart, there's a tendency to think that she can see the Dominant coming; that she can outwit him perhaps or get by him. The behavior of the submissive has become a little complacent, but he's been sucking it up. There's no particular reason for her to think that today is any different. Or, is there?

I've had sufficient chats with enough Dominant friends over the years to know that a common strategy, when the submissive is starting to demonstrate a lack of focus (ambivalence, indifference, a lack of self-discipline or just plain laziness) is to contain her even tighter; watch her closer; supervise her more.

There is another strategy a Dominant may use with a submissive who is failing to achieve the set goals. He can give her a 'vacation'. She might protest. She doesn't want a vacation. Possibly, there will be banter back and forth about it not being fair; about a lack of warning. She might fail to see why it should be now; why it should be at all. 

He'll explain his decision somewhat, I would expect. He'll point out to her all those moments of poor decision making leading up to this moment. The submissive will, on some level, get the point, but she might give it one more 'ole college try before he closes the door.

"The decision has been made. There will be no further discussion on the matter," he says, or words to that effect.

It's time to throw in the towel. Dominants never retreat from this position, not if they value their role and holding onto it. No submissive would ultimately be happy about it really if they did.

Hence, the submissive must accept, possibly not before she experiences some regret or anger; possibly not before she makes an attempt to punish the Dominant. Think submissives don't do that? Think again.

If he holds his nerve and if she settles to the pronouncement,  chances are you'll see the submissive recommitting to the goals set for her all on her own. The thing about a well trained submissive is that she very much wants to succeed; to please; to impress. She very much wants the "vacation" to end.

What sort of words strike at the heart of a submissive - words like "for two weeks, there is no need for you to obey." Whaaaat? That's where she gets her jubes. That's what turns her on; satisfies, completes and fulfills her.

Without a single further word of instruction, the Dominant could very well find, over the next week or so, the submissive taking enormous strides of progress forward in her development. What a surprise. So unexpected.

What's really exciting about the Dominant who plans and schemes, who has a bag of tricks, is that he keeps the submissive on her toes. Long may they dance.

To Top or to Dominate?

I'm firmly convinced that our behaviors are largely driven by forces outside of our control. Things happen, or don't happen, early in life. Sub-consciously we process these words and events in such a way that we are driven to want certain outcomes.

Sometime later, along comes a girl or a boy, we fall in love, and they become a character in a play that has already been written. Modifications can be made to the script to allow for this extra character, even a main character such as this partner comes to be, but the essence of the script doesn't change. It's written, you see. The main ideas are there and they are the thrust of the play.

Complications ensue when this boy or girl has ideas of his or her own, as they invariably do. This boy or girl is also driven by forces that are ordained according to events that occurred before they met.

Major issues will ensue only if there are serious obstacles put in the path of the other in achieving their prescribed outcomes, that interfere with the integral and motivating ideas of the other character's script for their life. The drama in their lives will be profoundly magnified if one or the other interferes with the overall plan. Regardless of the depth of love felt, previous early experiences demand that they must have their way. Feelings of love often come second to this inner drive almost completely outside of their control.

There is plenty of relationship advice out there based on good research that tells us that it is important to communicate one's needs to the other. But, what if 'the other' doesn't hear, not because you weren't clear but because it interferes with their version of the way the play should unfold? What if the scripts can't be blended or amalgamated satisfactorily? What if key elements of your story must be left out to satisfy the other's version of how it must be?

I've long contemplated the difference of the words 'Top' and 'Dominant'. Whilst there is no dictionary type definition for either word, this early morning I thought of these words as perhaps the best way I could describe the thoughts in my head right now. Here goes.

In every relationship, in some way or in some context, there is one who leads or is stronger than the other. I'm not talking consensual power exchange here specifically. I'm talking life. One person tends to be more capable in/desiring of/inclined to/demanding leadership. Either the other person agrees to this dynamic or else there is some level of negotiation and/or conflict.

Some people have submissive personalities. They are less needing of the driver's seat and either allow, agree to or want the other to be the dominant partner. This doesn't mean that they don't have the same impulses as everybody else; that they are not working towards certain outcomes. It does mean that they are more likely than most to give up on those outcomes or give into the other's drive for certain outcomes. Not without some sadness, they strive to let go of their own ordained outcomes and to see the world through the eyes of the other, the Dominant.

Whilst this is a wild generalization, in my mind at this moment it is the "Dominant" that will allow this and the "Top" that wouldn't hear of it. I say this because the word "Top" implies to me that he/she is working towards achieving the other's prescribed outcomes as much as or even more than his or her own outcomes.

It sometimes seems to me that the dominant (man) is saying to the other, "Come with me. I know the way. Here's what to do. Just follow along after me because I know what's best for you." Whereas the Top is more likely to say, "I'm listening to you carefully. I'm intensely interested in hearing who you really are. I want you to achieve your goals and I'm here to ensure you do reach those goals. It might be pretty tough at times but I have your best interests at heart, sweetheart, so just be a good girl and do as you're told."

I know, in a way, that's not a fair depiction but what I am trying to say is that dominant people often assume far too much. They assume they know it all and that their way is best, but are they really meaning this -  that their script is so ultra important to them that your script has to be shelved?

To this end, equality within the relationship is vital to a power exchange dynamic. We both come to the relationship with scripts that are terribly important to us, for whatever reasons, and it isn't going to be fair for one script to be virtually unchanged whilst the other script has red ink throughout it. Unless a dominant person is generous of spirit with the other's life script, he's not really 'topping' at all but rather demanding that his way is right.

How words arouse

I went to see the psychologist yesterday, the one that I saw a few years ago. I was more open with her. I told her my issues and I told her that I knew myself to be a submissive requiring a loving Dominant. I explained to her that I had expressed my needs and my sorrows at not having my needs met to my husband but that he seemed not to be able to take the message in; as if he hadn't heard or could not process the words, or as if it was outside his power to assist me.

She is always very honest with me and she told me that there was nothing more that she could do for me; that the cognitive therapy had resulted in me being an assertive woman who knew how to take care of myself; how to talk back to my negative thoughts, to express what I needed; to carve out some time in my life for myself. She praised me for nearly having finished the M.A. and she reminded me that I would have that qualification to take with me into the future - for further study or employment. She told me that I looked wonderful; that she loved the longer hair and that I looked well.

She made a recommendation. On the strength of the path opening up for my husband to receive some medical treatment, she asked if he would agree to couple's counseling. I said I thought so. She told me she had the perfect person for this; someone who specialized in sexual issues and with whom I could be entirely open.

"The thing is" she said to me, "that your husband needs to hear the sort of pain you are in. In therapy together he will see it, really for the first time; how vital this is to your happiness."

I'm exploring this path. Yesterday, when I read her site and sent a message I felt full of forward momentum, but this morning my mind is completely scattered. Okay, I've done a run to the station, taken my son to his last exam for the year, welcomed him home and had a chat, done some gardening, sorted the bedroom and the kitchen but I feel so unfocused - pushing myself to move on rather than sit and stare.

I read this story and I was aware of my breathing altering; of something feeding my soul. The simple and direct instructions, his calling her "lass"; the palpabe desire to be taken that emanated through the story. There was nothing else to do. I went to my bedroom and lay face down on the bed, brought my hands down and pleasured myself to the following images in my head -

I live with a man. Who this man is exactly I cannot say. He may be someone to have I have been sent to be taught how to behave or he may be my Owner. It's just one scene. I can't be at all sure. He is sitting in his special chair by the fire. These men in my fantasies so often are sitting in a chair by the fire, reading. I come in, knowing that it is the right time to do so and he tells me to lift my skirt and to sit my bare bottom on the cushion at his heel. It's a meditation sort of cushion and I'm perfectly comfortable for long periods of time, so long as my knees are wide in front of me.

It's the time of the week when I receive my weekly correction. It's not because I've been bad. It's because it is good for me and helps me to know my place. But, he's not ready yet and the correction takes place when it suits him, not me.

I sit there quietly with my eyes closed and I can hear the flames dance in the fireplace and every now and then I hear a page of his book turn. I've learned patience and I'm calm as I prepare my mind to take pain.

Eventually, maybe half an hour later, but I can't be at all sure of the time passed, I hear the book close and I can feel that he has stood.

"Into position lass." (See how my mind works. I loved RG's use of the word "lass". I had to try it out right away and soon realized it aroused me to the core.)

I stand slowly and find my feet. I'm always a little unstable for a few moments from sitting on the meditation cushion in the meditative stance. I make my way to the wooden bench designed for the purpose of correction, raise my skirt and bend over, holding on tight immediately to the bar on the front of the bench, about a foot from the floor.

He canes soundly. It seems to be important to him that I am challenged and I suspect he likes to hear my whimpers and grunts. When he stops, 25 strokes later, I feel relief it is over but radiate in the glow of my backside. There's nothing quite like a stinging bottom to feel completely alive.

He holds my downturned head firmly with his right palm.

"Good lass. Well done."

As much as I would love to have him plunge inside me and put out the fire, I know he won't. Rather, he tells me to prepare for bed and just as I am finished he gestures for me to bend over. He fills my ass with the large plug, binds my wrist with a cord and tucks me into bed.

"Off to sleep. Right now. There's a good lass."

He turns off the light and closes the door, leaving me to wallow in a deep sense of complete care; the luckiest girl in the world.

Now that I have got that out of my system, I have a rough shot at making this a productive day!

The power exchange dynamic

No matter how well trained we are or how disciplined we are or how accommodating we are, there are going to be moments when things don't go as well as one would like, and I think an exploration of those difficult moments enables one to gauge the dynamic and see just how it works.

In some weeks or even months now I have only had one difficult day. It happened about two weeks ago now. To set it up, it was the first day of the last term of the academic year. I was under some pressure. My husband had wanted to stay an extra day in the country, which was fine except that it put me in a situation where I had to scramble to get in an academic task by the deadline of midnight that same day, and my son was in a similar boat.

So, on the Tuesday when I awoke I was tired (we'd done a lot of physical work in the past three days) and possibly I was not emotionally prepared for the tasks ahead of me - getting sons to train/school etc. How about I got ready fast, my husband suggested as I crawled out of bed, and we'd take the boy to school and then I could drop him off to the office in town on my way to the market?

It set me off. I said something along the lines of "All you have to do is prepare yourself. I have responsibilities and I can't get ready for the day right now. I can't guarantee I will be ready by 8.15 am." Something like that. I was clearly not myself because he came out to the kitchen and offered to take the boy to the train but I declined that offer. Anyways, he can do a good job of cajoling me in such a mood and I can do a decent job of recovering from a setback and we were on our way to the city bright and early with me driving. All good.

We weren't far from home, going around the edge of a park when it was obvious I had to stop. Two enormous trucks had entered the narrow street and I couldn't pass. My husband was immediately agitated and started barking orders about what I was to do about it. I was agitated that he was barking orders. In such a situation it pays to stay very quiet but as I have explained in some detail already, I hadn't woken up in the most bimbo of moods. I didn't really understand what he wanted me to do in the dilemma until I gathered he wanted me to reverse into a driveway as he was beckoning both the truck drivers on.

So, once I could follow what he wanted me to do, and I accept that I was probably making the odd suggestion of my own which isn't something I usually do, I backed into the driveway. However, he was continuing to freak out, and I could only think that somehow, if it is really possible to do so, I was backing into the driveway wrong.

So the trucks moved, we passed, I went into silent mode biting my bottom lip in order to settle myself and he continued to rant on about what I had done wrong, how I hadn't listened and so forth. He's good at recognizing what he did later in the day these days but in the spur of the moment he can remain defensive and he continued to defend how that all had gone down. I stayed as silent as I could but he goads me to talk in these situations and ultimately I said something like "You are all grown up now. You have to learn to get control of your emotions!" Anyways, he was ready to settle down but I wasn't and when I let him out in town he wanted it all to be settled, but all I could manage was "Look, we're sweet, I really have to get out of the bus lane now."

Once I was on my own I headed to a cafe and had a strong black coffee and settled myself: sent a cajoling text, because I did recognize that there is a way to handle these situations and that wasn't it. Later in the day he sent one back and later that night he suggested that I probably haven't been spanked enough; that spankings settle me. Duh!

I've explained endlessly that I talk with someone about my submissive side and that our conversations always have a particular pattern. I'm on the bottom. On this day, I wouldn't say that I was dominant at all but I was very unsettled at the beginning, middle and end of it. I suggested that I sensed something was up with him. What a classic case of transference of which I was completely unaware!!It was me that was unsettled; me that was feeling particularly guilty.

He was slow in his responses, probably sitting there in front of his electrical device thinking "What the f...?". I must say he did a sterling job of keeping his wits about him, ensuring that I understood that he wasn't going to budge or allow me the slightest leeway in the dynamic we share. Ultimately he accused me of not following the guidelines as laid out (How does he know???) and bid me a good afternoon. The guilt was super thick now; embedded into the brain.

I sat there for a bit, wondering how the hell this day had gone so wrong. Then, I did what I know to do pretty well these days. I pulled my socks up, got back to bimbo business as I know to do, got on with my daily tasks both in and outside of the house, made dinner and prepared myself to be charming, gracious, obedient and in my place again. That worked. That suits everybody.

I thought about all this and recognized that I don't have control and nor do I want control. I'm not necessarily that nice when I have more control than suits me. My relationships don't work that way, and they certainly don't work well for me that way. I pondered. What if I'd got the upper hand in these situations that day? What if either one of them, or both of them had not prevailed? What a total mess that would be; what an unmitigated disaster!!

A great deal of my 'training' has been learning about how to interact with a dominant man and I would suggest that the best way to do that is with a great deal of intelligence, restraint, discipline and respect. Apologies are sometimes in order on either or both sides of the coin. I'm not suggesting anything different but I am noting that a dominant must ensure he prevail. Control is paramount for the good order of the relationship.

Crossing to Safety: some thoughts

Until I read Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegnar was unknown to me, which is a shame because he was a wonderful writer. He wrote novels, short stories and essays for 60 years set in American landscapes, mainly in the West, I believe. Crossing to Safety is his last novel, written when he was 78 years old. Knowing that, I was initially a bit put off, wondering if his better days were behind him as a writer, but the further I got into the novel the more I loved it, until I reached a point where nothing could be done until I had read it all.

Stegnar once revealed to a interviewer that he wrote the book  because he wanted to make sense of some friends of his. He creates two couples - the Langs and the Morgans. Sid and Charity Lang are wealthy via old (and new) money whilst the other couple, Sally and  Larry are poor, eventually becoming comfortable by means of Larry's hard work and talent and Charity's kind gestures on Larry's behalf. Larry narrates the story.

Charity is a complex character. She's a wonderfully giving person with her heart in the right place. She orchestrates good things for the Morgans. She wants the people close to her to be happy. She's a tireless worker for charity. There is much to like about Charity. But, there is, as Stegner puts it, a "serpent in the garden".

Charity wants the best for Sid. Even Larry, a lecturer himself in the English department at the University of Wisconsin in the year of 1937 can see that Sid is at risk of not being asked to stay on. He tends to write the sort of things that don't get published in scholarly reviews - poems - and he's at risk of being dumped. Charity knows this. Charity is right about everything, actually, and she advises him over the summer to get busy writing a scholarly book. She arranges their time at the Vermont compound, keeping the morning hours free for Larry to knuckle down to the task whilst the afternoons and evenings are spent having fun with visitors and family.

The problem is that Larry really doesn't have much talent for that sort of thing, and left to his own devises he'd not ambitious at all; perhaps a 'Mr Chips' type at a small university where the staff and faculty would love him, but otherwise he'd prefer to spend his life tinkering. With wealth behind him, it's plausible except for the fact that Charity has burning ambition for him.

All is perfectly well between them so long as Larry (and later, the children) submit to her. She's absolutely lovely whilst she is having her way but is capable of being a nightmare when she is defied. In case you have the wrong idea, I want to point out that Sid is not  a small framed man by any means. Larry, who happens to see Sid and Charity naked when they all go camping thinks of Sid as an Adonis. He feels lacking in stature in his presence. This is a hunk of a man.

Said Wagner in an interview, "There was a Charity. She is dead. But I wanted to get her said. All of her children suffered from her inordinately because she bore down on them. She couldn't do anything except in her own way."

I read in a Book Club transcript that Charity may be a case of a woman who was ahead of her time. If she were born two generations later she'd be fine because she would have her own career to absorb her. Perhaps. I think there is more to it than that. Yes, if she had a career of her own, she'd have less mind space and less time to sort out Larry to her satisfaction but she'd still be Charity; still want things her way.

There are so many scenes to discuss but I found the scenes wherein Charity is dying spellbinding. Foiled at getting Larry away to the family picnic she has devised to celebrate her birthday so that she can sneak off to the hospital without him and without a fuss, she has no choice but to tell him that she does not want him to drive her to hospital (where she will die within a few days). He's aghast; offended and hurt. He loses control.

"Why?" he shouted. "Do you hate me? Am I a handicap, or an embarrassment...I'm your husband. I have a right to be with you..."

Deathly ill, unable to control herself now that he is defying her, she snaps.

"Because I can't stand it when you break down!"

The tussle of wills goes on until he relents.

"All right. All right. Whatever you want..."

That was all she wanted. From her deathbed, practically, she had mastered him once more. Her will would be done. But the moment she had beaten him he was her hurt child. The arm came off the pillow and clenched around him, the lips touched the whorl of his crown.

"It's best, she whispered. "You'll see it is..."

What is really interesting is that through the course of the story Larry doesn't change Charity a scrap and nor does Charity alter Larry in any way. When Larry does as told they are happy and when he doesn't, things are frosty. It's this way almost the whole way through. (Perhaps, I can write of the exception to the rule next time.)

Is this just a case of feminism making strides too late for Charity? I really think not. She was the boss and that was all there was to that.

The ebb and flow of the submissive mind

I managed to read an article by Remittance Girl today entitled The Ephemeral Quality of Dominance. I was impressed by the article overall but smitten by some points she made in particular.

RG writes this:

"One of the reasons I don’t identify myself as truly submissive is that I am reluctant to trust or burden anyone with the responsibility for my pleasure.  And a dominant IS ultimately responsible for it. They don’t have to read minds – they can demand communicativeness in order to take that responsibility – but that’s the deal. It’s all in their hands."

That's right. A dominant is ultimately responsible for the submissive's pleasure. It IS all in their hands and they should expect and even demand that there is sufficient communication about what constitutes pleasure such that they can take charge of creating pleasure. There is no telling when, where or how this might take place but the submissive needs to be confident enough and therefore able to trust the dominant that he will take responsibility for the pleasure (which could, of course, be pain).

In this sort of power exchange arrangement, one of the thrills is that another person is so interested in you and what constitutes pleasure for you. Even the sadists, as far I know, love the notion that they pleasure the other, on some level. It's insufficient, in my opinion, if the submissive is able to express to a submissive friend that they continue to hope that their desires will one day be played out, years and years after the agreement for power exchange has been agreed to. I've always felt that the best dominants are akin to magicians who sometimes set the stage for the submissive and allow at least one or two of his or her dreams to come true. This sort of kindness is never forgotten. This evokes trust and connection. This is worth the effort.

RG also writes this:

"Dominance isn’t physical; it’s mental. Superficially, it might be nice if you can toss your partner around in a bed, but you shouldn’t have to. If you’re in control, you can move someone with a single finger touch to the hip."

This is absolutely true. I know when I feel the surge of dominance. It only takes a word or two. Through training, I know what will happen if I don't accord with the words. Should I choose not to acquiesce to an instruction or follow through with an agreement I've only got myself to blame. The parameters have been well laid out. The deal has been struck and the ink is dry. I wouldn't dream of dismissing the dynamic now. It's the last thing I'd want. It would cause a disconnect that would be far more upsetting than any scenario or outcome I can conjure. 

I believe it is about chemistry and the lucky ones are those for whom the chemistry is right. One's orientation is not nearly enough. As I've said before, you can't dismiss 'sensibilities' and you have to trust your instincts. He may be the greatest dominant for someone else but that doesn't mean he's the dominant for you.

It takes two to tango but it should be remembered it takes work as well. If your instincts tell you that you are onto a good thing but there are still issues between you, then you have to be prepared to stretch and grow into the dynamic. He's going to be doing some molding and transforming and it's not necessarily going to be easy or comfortable all the time. There are times you might want to tell him 'thanks, but no thanks' only to realize your mind was pushing at some limit; making space for the next frontier. If there is one thing I have learned it is that under the right tutelage it is all very much worth the effort. Sometimes, it just takes time.

Knowing one's place

When I have more control than I want it's an unpleasant feeling. I like my husband to direct me and failing that I need him to make it clear who is, in fact, in charge. On Sunday morning he made an advance towards me and I expressed, in the mildest of ways, but enough to upset him, that I wasn't interested. He's not used to that sort of thing and later in the car he made it clear that he wasn't impressed.

The fact that he made it clear he wasn't impressed was good. I can tap into what is going on inside me very quickly and easily now and I felt pleased that he dressed me down. It would not have been good if he had let it slide. I felt some guilt and some displeasure with myself. Most of all, I felt more in my place and thus more content.

At the party, I slided over to him and kissed him on the lips. "You're fickle," he said, not entirely sure, I think, as to why I felt better when all he had done is dress me down. I am not entirely sure that he understands what makes me tick. He dresses me down because that is what comes to him naturally to do. I think. I doubt he does it because he thinks it would do me good. However, it does do me good.

This is what it is so important to remember: that if you are a certain type of woman, like me, you honestly do need to know your place. I know some people will misinterpret that statement. I know some women are not treated at all well. I don't mean that sort of 'knowing your place' - some sort of 'put down'; disrespect. I mean, that when one wants to belong, to have an owner, to feel owned, to be cherished and debased at one and the same time, then one simply must know one's place. To act in any other way with one's owner/husband/boyfriend/etc. is to feel terribly out of sync. There's a natural order to things if I am to feel authentically me.