Polarity

 If you are a woman with a submissive nature, and you want to be led by a man, that is, for there to be a leader in the relationship, that man is going to require certain characteristics. In all likelihood the man will need to grow; to hone his dominant nature and to overcome any residual trauma from his childhood as well as societal messaging.

Let's assume that the woman is intelligent and well educated, and most probably perfectly capable of looking after herself. By that I mean she has the education and the necessary skills to get through her days quite satisfactorily whether she is led or not. But she chooses and desires a dominant man to lead her. For her to express her submissive nature she needs a man who is capable and willing to express his dominant nature; for there to be polarity. This man is going to be required to be evolved, mature, stalwart, calm and steady. 

We are judgmental about our leaders because no-one wants to be led by a fool. We analyze their behaviour and their decisions and as a whole we don't hold back from criticism when we disapprove.

I had a talk with someone over Christmas when I got a rare opportunity for a one-on-one conversation and I explained to him that, although it was clear his wife's behaviour was certainly triggering and sometimes quite unacceptable, he couldn't afford to give her back the same sort of behaviour she gave to him. As difficult as it no doubt could be, he needed to be that calm and committed presence in her life who was determining the standards of behaviour. 

'No, he couldn't mind the child this evening as he still had essential business calls he had to make, but he was happy to mind him on Saturday morning whilst she went to do whatever it was she wanted to do.'

Statements. No anger. No throwing words back at her. Just declarative statements. Compromise, but not giving in.

When she tried to make him responsible for something that was indeed her responsibility, he needed to note to her that she was capable of sorting this situation herself. He didn't need to be involved.

He was running around, I explained to him, trying to sort her problems, because he was capable of that, but he was training her to be dependent on him by doing so and getting angry about that at the same time.

There's no shortage of love either way and so he said to me, yet again, that the violence in her childhood home had created this scenario. He was justifying her behaviour. I understood that, I explained, but people can't spend their lives in disarray because something happened thirty years ago. He deserved peace, for one thing, and once the new training period was over, they would both be happier.

To his credit, he listened. He truly wanted it to be better, to be calm and for there to be harmony, but he had been triggered for several years by her demands and he sensed it wouldn't be easy to not be triggered again.

'Of course,' I assured him. It will take time and you will make mistakes. But you have to keep working your way towards being that man who was something like a well-built brick wall; solid and dependable; indestructible.

'She'll note the difference and won't understand it. You'll get a whole lot of stuff around how she is an 'independent woman' yadda yadda. Just stay the course. Trust me.'

Dominant men, the ones who hone their craft and character, do not get enough credit. I heard a brave man say in a podcast recently that a man has to be better than his woman in all the criteria that counted. He needed to contain her, and by that he meant he had to hold her in her hour of need. She needed to look up to him and he needed to protect her and hold her accountable to him. If she wants to be led, that's the way it works.

This reminds me somewhat of meditation advice - to let go of doing and sink into being. In the same way, I wonder if we should not let go of society's messaging and just be our authentic selves; strive to be our best selves.

Spirituality within power exchange

My immersion into spiritual practice and my overwhelming attraction to SM practices and power exchange relationships in general collided several years ago such that it is hard for me to separate one from the other. That this might mean something tangible to the reader, I give the following example of how the two worlds mingle in my mind.

In Eckhart Tolle's Stillness Speaks he has a chapter on 'Relationships', and in that chapter he writes,

'When you get attached to objects, when you are using them to enhance your worth in your own eyes and in the eyes of others, concerns about things can easily take over your life. When there is self-identification with things you don't appreciate them for what they are because you are looking for yourself in them. When you appreciate an object for what it is, when you acknowledge its being without mental projection, you cannot not feel grateful for its existence. You may also sense that it is not really inanimate, that it only appears so to the senses. Physicists will confirm that on a molecular level it is indeed a pulsating field. Through selfless appreciation of the realm of things, the world around you will come alive in ways that you cannot even begin to comprehend with the mind.'

When I first read Tolle's words, and when I re-read them as I often do, they immediately resonated with me because of experiences I have had through a power exchange relationship. The world of the doll manifests itself in a very small and contained world and when the conditions are just right all egoic thought and concerns based on the real world drift away. The mind shuts right down and my experience is simply a physical one. I can feel the sensations of the body. I can feel arousal. On the great days, I can feel complete peace.

I can get to this sublime place through wearing a large butt plug which chokes thinking off, or I can get there through wearing a latex mask. They are quite different experiences, one not better than the other, but I've a particular partiality to the former experiences because I can maintain the connection with 'the other' better.

There have been experiences where 'bimbo' permeates me. She is inseparable to that never-changing  'I am' entity. There is no past or no future. There are no worries or thoughts; certainly no attachments to identity or worth or worldy possessions. Bimbo responds to direction, absolutely, but in the most special situations the feeling is light, warm and easy. It is understood that bimbo won't say very much because she has found herself in a world of comfort and grace; ease, peace and beauty.

I remember on one particular early morning she was in the country chatting oh so quietly on her computer. Not that much was being said because her world can often be simply peaceful with few words necessary. She was aware of the sun coming up to light the world; of the darkness making way for some light; the shapes of trees. More than anything she was aware of the stillness of this time and the stillness within her. Ever so quietly she found her attention drawn to the objects around her; a blue and white cup and a jug. She marvelled at the beauty of them as if she had never before seen a cup or a jug; the vibrancy of the colour; the very essence of these objects designed to do specific tasks. A sense of peace and pleasure welled up in her. She was living in this moment. Her cup runneth over.

There are no doubt a variety of ways to reach these peaceful moments in life, yet in my life the way towards them has often been to be led down a path where I may reach them. I have procured these peaceful moments through power exchange; perhaps not the ideal way to navigate a spiritual life, and yet many a monk has sought out help along the way.

I remain attached to people. It's not that I live through them but rather that it is still hard to imagine life without them. To date, I respond very naturally to the submissive role and thus yearn for the sort of dominance in my life where there is understanding of a spiritual life. My personal goal is to get to that spiritual dimension on my own at any time, if need be; to find respite and comfort in the 'I am' entity which never changes and to let all other worldly concerns and worries, identities or pride loosen and shake off. This is the life of the monk, the nun; those who wish to live as Buddha taught.

It cannot be denied that my interest in power exchange relationships began when the material I was reading aroused me to the core. It was entirely sexual. Every word I read at first was an aphrodisiac to my mind ready to take it all on. It didn't take on a spiritual dimension for me, something akin to subspace, until I quite simply experienced that spiritual dimension. This was the true gift. This was the opportunity I am so grateful to have seized with both hands and all my heart.

Abandonment

Last night just before I went off to sleep I gave myself the little treat of reading a few people's blogs. One link led to another and I found myself on the blog of a man who wrote that he wasn't interested in submissives. He wanted a slave.

From there he went on to discuss his feelings about a woman whose blog he had read who must surely have self-esteem issues, he determined, because she objected to a Dominant using 'abandonment' techniques.

He felt this  a ridiculous thing to suggest and he strongly disagreed because what if the man was going out of town for four days? What would happen to the her then? No. She clearly needed to work on herself before she could give herself over to a Dominant if she thought he wasn't going to do whatever he wanted to do and that included abandoning her as he thought fit.

First of all, blind Freddy knows that the woman wasn't talking about her man going out of town for four days and leaving her on her own. That's not abandoning her; that's going out of town for four days. Abandonment is when the Dominant breaks off contact and/or communication with you as a mean of discipline or for some other emotional/psychological reason, without explaining himself. Abandonment is when the submissive is left bereft and in emotional pain. Abandonment is when the submissive is left confused and feeling unloved.

I sat back on my pillows and tried to get into the mind of a man who would write and would think such things. I think he was totally genuine and sincere in what he wrote. I think he believed it. So, I ask myself, are there men in the world who simply don't have the empathic gene? Are there men in the world who intentionally cause emotional pain to a woman; who can't find it in themselves to walk in her shoes and understand what it is to have a submissive nature and to be intentionally treated in this way...or even sub-consciously treated this way? Does one's heart not speak to them and demand that they communicate with their submissive and find a better way to deal with the issue at hand?

I've seen what happens when men fall out of love with their wives (and fall in love with another woman). I don't blame them necessarily for that, of course, but I do question why the love and the life they shared for over three decades is forgotten as they make financial settlements so arduous and painstaking and as they distance themselves from the children they once bounced on their knee.

Are there some men whose hearts are permanently in winter? I have to believe this is so from what I read. The definition of abandonment is:  'To withdraw one's support or help from, especially in spite of duty, allegiance, or responsibility; desert: abandon a friend in trouble." Is that what a man is entitled to do with the woman who has given herself to him? That's okay? That's kosher?


Communication failures are going to happen because as clever as we are, we're human and inclined to make mistakes. I can understand a man temporarily abandoning a woman, perhaps even unwittingly, and I can understand a woman temporarily feeling abandoned but the man returning to her to make his real feelings for her and the purpose of his actions understood. But, to say that abandoning her is his right? Oh boy, that really stinks.

 

Vulnerability

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Acceptance

When we were away for a few days recently, we were on our way back to the apartment with arm fulls of products that we had bought at the Salamanca Market when we reached a darling little store that I had seen on our last visit there a few years ago. It was 4.30 pm and she wouldn't be open all that long.

"Would it be all right if I ducked in here?" I asked my husband.

He was keen to take all the products home but he said he'd come back if I saw something; to call him.

Well, I did see something. The woman who owns the store has silk and velvet material made up in Vietnam and her store is filled with lovely garments.

"I am interested in the black velvet coat but I'll come back on Monday with my husband."

Well, she planned to close Monday as it was the long weekend, she said, so I told her that I'd call my husband and he'd come down, which he did.

She was very impressed. She said that she rarely gets a man in the store and she liked that I wanted his approval.

So, I tried on the coat again and he definitely liked it. He wandered around the store a little and located a short jacket in a soft black velvet that was reduced and also a lovely black velvet long scarf with a lining in black silk.

"Well, we best make a decision, she is about to close. I can't have them all," I whispered to him.

But, he simply gathered the three items and told her that we'd take all three of them. Oh my! In her eyes, I had a real gem in my grasp!!


It was very special and I think he was delighted to do that for me, in much the same way as I was delighted to encourage him to buy the special garden pruning cutters that he had spotted at the market and wanted. (Each to his own!)

I was thinking about that experience this morning and it occurred to me that he spent on my clothing about the same price as he would to get two young lads to come and take away some rubble in the backyard. Yet, he absolutely won't do it, no matter how much I beg and plead with him. The rubble will stay there looking ugly until he is able to do it himself.

Do you think that is because he feels some sort of guilt at paying for someone to do something that he feels he should do himself?? Why are men so stubborn about this sort of thing? He claims it is a financial decision but if that were really true why did he buy me the non-essential items?

Anyways, in the meantime, I continue to practice my mantra that I will only worry about what I can change and achieve and not worry about what I can't change

because

I definitely can't change him.

The perfect little angel and the wolf

In my writing I'm currently creating a couple of characters. She's a submissive type although she doesn't really quite understand that yet. I pretty much know this character (!) so I don't have much work to do on her.

She's met a man who's actually a really nice guy. He's sweet; romantic; caring; kind. Initially, she was incensed and aroused by this man all at the one moment. He displayed a truck-load of arrogance towards her initially and it made her angry (and hot!). Oh God, but I don't have to explain that to readers in this forum, do I?

However, as she'll come to understand he's also other things as well and only time will tell if he's the man for her.

Now, I've taken a look at a few online quizzes to try to think through my thoughts about this male character and it turns out that he is rather high on the scale of narcissism. That's a bit of a dilemma for me as the writer because first and foremost he's really a very good and well meaning man. I hold onto that central fact as I write and I definitely don't want to let it go.  I'm working on the basis that you can be a good man with a tendency to narcissism at one and the same time. Put it this way. He's a good guy with flaws and he's trying to overcome some of those flaws whilst seeing others of them as strengths which he doesn't intend to do anything about.

Are you still with me?

Right. So, let's look at his traits. He has a strong sense of entitlement. As an example, he might say to himself, "I insist upon getting the respect that is due to me." He would not say, "I usually get the respect that I deserve". Do you see the difference here?

He is exploitative. This is a given. My god, did he exploit her when they met! Whoa! He really deserved a smack across the mouth but you see, she didn't do that. She was up for the game. That's how he knew she was for him. He'd respond to the question, "I find it easy to manipulate people" and not "I don't like it when I find myself manipulating people." So, definitely exploitative.

He's superior. He would say, "I think I am a special person" and not "I am no better or worse than most people."

He's self-sufficient.  He will answer, "I can live my life any way I want" and not "People can't always live their lives in terms of what they want."

He's authoritative. He will answer, "People always seems to recognize my authority" and not "Being an authority figure doesn't mean that much to me."

So, what do you think? Can you be high on the scale of narcissism and still likable; lovable; right for this sweet girl??

What's that? You don't think she is a perfect little angel either????

Well, we'll  just have to wait and see about that. I am, after all, the one writing this story!

Picasso and sadism

I was going through a few drafts and located this writing of mine from some time ago. I'm not sure why I didn't publish it as it's rather interesting. Hope you agree:

 Francoise Gilot was unwilling to talk about her years with Picasso until Janet Hawley, an Australian journalist, mentions towards the end of her telephone conversation requesting an interview that Gilot had spoken at the 1984 Adelaide Festival Writers' Week. One thing led to another and she was ultimately granted some hours with her. The article she wrote about her time with Gilot fascinated me.

She was, she says, the only one of Picasso's women who was submissive. "He wanted me to be submissive, like the other women, but I was never submissive." "Why do you always contradict me?" he wanted to know of her. Her answer was, "Because we have a dialogue, not a monologue."

Gilot's take on women is refreshingly outspoken: "Many women who are very feminine have a masochistic streak to them, so it was perfect for Picasso with the women who came before me - the sadist with the masochist. But I was not a masochist or a sadist: I was not playing that game!"

Picasso boasted to Gilot apparently that he enjoyed making the people who loved him suffer. He told her that he was nasty to people he loved. She believes that he was testing their affection for him. "Every day he had to go into some combat and win."

Olga's intelligence shines with every remark she makes. She seems to have the most amazing insight that I feel I want to make note of her observations for myself in this record.

"Picasso's idea of love was mostly physical and possessing, not giving. At the same time, his good side was so intelligent that when you were with him...it was often so astonishing that you felt you were watching a miracle. That is what he gave. If you could appreciate that, that is what you got."

But her admiration for him did not cloud her awareness of his flaws.

"...he always had supreme anxiety, wanting to find a new truth...Picasso always felt alone, in peril..."

She recognizes too that she must not have been easy for him.

"Pablo painted a series of Middle Ages knights in armor, with thin waists on horseback - they're me. He complained I never took my armor off. "Yes, she replied. "I did not want to be killed."

But of all the comments she made in that interview and reported in Janet Hawley's wonderful article it was this one that resonated like a crystal clear bell:

"I knew Picasso's reputation with women and that moving in with him could be a catastrophe - but I decided it was a catastrophe I didn't want to miss."

Francoise Gilot may not have been a submissive or a masochist in the strict sense of the word, but she became entranced by Picasso and only left him ten years later when his behavior "became increasingly unfair and cruel". "Picasso was a god and my children and I were mere human beings." 

Dominant men, it seems to me so often are mercurial; not at all easy souls to be around and yet as women with submissive qualities, we gravitate towards such men. As difficult as they can be, some of us (and I certainly put myself in that category) yearn for their company.

'When God wants to punish you he answers your prayers.'

Personal assistant

I have been thinking about the power exchange in a new way lately. I have been thinking about it in terms of profiling the types of people or perhaps I should say, personalities, who are best suited to, or might desire a power exchange.

For reasons that should be obvious to you it is not always easy to give examples as they pertain to my own life. It just is not politic! So, I am going to draw on my past. I have already catalogued my working relationship with a dominant man. I did that right at the beginning of my online journaling when I described my working life dynamic back on Deity’s blog.

Those years of being a Personal Assistant were important in preparing me to live a lifetime with a dominant man. Of course, my job was about providing efficiency to his office but the real work took place within the dynamic wherein he was the boss of the show and I was his helpmate. I remember certain words and conversations now and realize their importance.

I remember him returning from a board meeting triumphant and saying, “Vesta, I got everything I wanted!” “Terrific,” I replied. Another time he returned and said, “They didn’t agree to (whatever).” Then it was my turn to say, “Oh dear!” and listen to him tell me how such and such was such a snivelling bastard or words to that effect.

On one occasion he was bemoaning the fact that the Chairman was such a moron and why did he have to suffer such fools, and so on. I listened quietly and patiently, as always and then I said,

“But, think about it. You’ve got the support of the entire board. You run the show. And, you know that you can convince Geoffrey of anything. You know you have that under your control.”

He brightened up. I was quite right, of course. He knew how to smooth talk anyone and the Chairman was not a difficult or divisive or contrary man at all.

On another occasion, he did something a wee bit naughty and the head of another organisation called him on it. He rang and complained. He got off the phone and went into a guilt/defensive mode and kinda obsessed about that. I listened. Always. Listened. Then, I said,

“It’s a one day wonder. Tomorrow, it will be old news. Over.”

It seemed to snap him out of it. He got over it.

One time, the receptionist, a girl of whom he was fond, asked for an appointment to see him and she put forward her case as to why she should get a salary increase. This fazed him. He wasn’t in control. She was asking for something and it didn’t give him a chance to be generous. It was as if he had overlooked something or mistreated her and it couldn’t stand. He denied her request. But, immediately after he said to me that he couldn’t understand why she would do it. He had wanted to be generous but she had not gone about it the right way. It frustrated him.

Another day, a man came into this office just before lunch with an idea. It was not necessarily a bad idea. I am sure the man thought he was doing him a favour by offering the idea. But, the idea had been presented when he had something else on his mind and he had done it immediately before lunch. It did not go well.

He opened our adjoining door and said, “What sort of an idiot would approach me with a new idea immediately before I eat my lunch??!! Never do that, Vesta. Never, ever ask me for anything before lunch. If you want to ask a man for something, do it when he is well fed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

I could go on and on.

The man I worked for wanted contol . He wanted to be right. He loathed the idea of making a mistake.

One day, I was in the car when the driver, who I knew well, was dropping my boss off at an appointment. I remember telling him something and I remember him responding to me, just before he got out of the car.

“Just do your best, Vesta. Just do your best."

We drove away and the driver, who only spoke when he had something important to say said,

“What a joke! As if your best would ever be good enough for him.”

Of everyone in the organisation, he was most hard on himself. The high standards he asked of everyone else in the organisation were simply indicative of the standards he applied to himself.

Was I sometimes frustrated with him? Of course! I was half his age and if something was not done exactly right, I got it in the ear.

He would never apologize for his outbursts per se but he did make up in his own way. Often, it was just to be there. He’d stand by me as I typed, furious with him underneath the surface, and he would try to impart the vibe that he was over his outburst and felt a tad sorry now. He never meant to have a tantrum. It was just his perfectionism; his need for control that got in the way.

He managed to create an enormous amount of anxiety in the air at times; something that I find very hard to be around. At those times, I would look into the diary and see that he had an appointment out of the office in a hour’s time perhaps and I’d hang onto that thought; that in a hour I could breathe again; in a hour I could cleanse myself from this dominant, control hungry, perfectionist dynamo.

Of course, it was not always like this. He could be quite relaxed on occasion and a bit of a devil. He liked to mimic people; to tell jokes, to sing tunes from musicals and some afternoons were really a delight. He would often call me into his office; sometimes just to collect a book from the bookshelves rather than walk around himself. “Here is your book, m’Lord,” I would say and he would smile a little sheepishly. “Why bark myself when I have a dog?” he might retort if feeling particularly cheeky. “Why indeed?” I would reply.

He liked the fact that he could get away with such things with me. I just wasn’t quick to bite and I think he liked that. It played into his desire for control that his Personal Assistant should be so independent of spirit on the inside but so controlled on the outside, I think.

What I am trying to say is that he was who he was: a dominant man: bright, able, charming, ambitious, determined. He wanted control and he controlled himself so that he could obtain control. If you were going to deal with him, and we all had to, after all, you had to recognize that fact and take the good out of the situation. Attempting to wrestle control from him was just a bad idea.

One day when he was away overseas, the Advertising Manager asked if I would be in an advertisement and I agreed. I did not ask my boss because I had a feeling that he would not agree. When he returned, he was in a rage about it and had the Advertising people can the photos. I remember being very hurt about that. At the time I figured he thought me not good enough to be in the advertising. I came to realize that if I were in the photos, it was a threat to him. Would I continue on as his Personal Assistant if I had another avenue of employment?

This was confirmed to me in later days when I asked to be transferred to the Training Department. Why on earth would I want to do that job, he asked, when I was involved with every last decision on the top level in his office? Request denied: through stupidity.

Perhaps on a sub-conscious level I am attracted to men who seek control. I have certainly been surrounded by them all my life so it must be true. It is too much of a co-incidence to not be true. I see their soft underbelly and I feel a warmth towards them. For as difficult as they can be; they can be soft and sweet. I see that. Men who seek control are complex; driven by desires they do not entirely understand themselves.

One day, late in his life, he was interviewed about his life and the interviewer asked him about a painting on the wall. He said he had bought it because it reminded him of his mother. He always spoke so endearingly of her and he told the interviewer that she was a very giving woman; that he was sorry that he had caused her so much grief.

I remember him telling me that many years after he left school he ran into some teacher of his who had been a real sadist and apparently he said to himself, “My god, I used to be so frightened of you and look at you now!”

I try to keep my eyes open now; my antenna up. I try to calm myself and soothe the beast by looking for the heart of gold; the reasons for the drive within. Perhaps, I am destined to always be “the personal assistant”.

Rough winds

This time last year I reported that my husband took me sailing for the very first time in his little sail boat, designed really for one just person. We had perfect conditions that day for introducing me to the experience of sailing a small boat. I adored the experience and naturally enough, looked forward to a repeat experience this year.

Several times this summer I have looked out at the lake and said, "What a lovely morning to sail!" Then he'd say, "Let's wait for some wind." We repeated this exchange several times until one late afternoon recently he said to me, "Would you like to go for a sail?" "Sure," I replied. Yet, as the minutes wore on as we got ourselves together the rather wild wind was starting to worry me. My dawdling got to him. "Look, do you want to go sailing or not?" "Well, do we have to go on such a windy day?" He was clearly agitated with me that I wasn't the fearless sailing companion that he had in mind and I felt a bit of a flop.

The next time he suggested we go sailing, I expressed no hesitation whatsoever. Off we went down to the lake and whilst he put the sail up, I watched it go crazy in the wild wind. The wind was causing a whistle in the air and frankly, I didn't think it at all a great idea. However, I wasn't going to hear the same speech about what a wuss I was, and off we went. From the moment we left the shore it was clear that the peace and serenity I experienced last year was not going to be repeated this day.

"Sit in the middle of the boat. The middle!!!! Come over the other side. Quickly!! Duck you head. Get down!! Okay, now put the wood in the slot. Do it! Further down. That's it. Now, lean back. More! Get more in the middle!"

I am used to very minute and specific instructions as to how to load a dishwasher let alone how to sail a small boat in intrepid conditions so I was not at all surprised by these commands.

"Oh shit! That was dumb. We haven't got life jackets on."

I could feel us change course.

"Are we going in?"

"Yep."

I watched him gather life jackets from the speed boat and realized with a sinking stomach that he intended to proceed with the mission.

"Are we going back out again?"

Sigh.

"Don't you want to?"

"Wellll, it is pretty rough out there..."

"Do you want to or not? Speak your mind, girl."

"I think it is too rough for me."

"If you aren't coming, I'm going on my own."

"Perhaps that is best."

"Fine."

I got off.

"I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, yeah..."

I watched him leave without me, trying to find my nerve to say I'd changed my mind. Yet, my life preserving instinct was in full force.

"It wasn't meant to be this way," he said as he ventured out, clearly disappointed with me.

I watched him leave with heavy heart, berating my scared soul.

When I saw him returning an hour or so later, I came down to meet him. Anything to regain the connection...

"How was it?"

"It was bloody rough out there. I capsized."

"Ohhhhhh"

"It was much too rough for you."

"Ohhhhh?"

"Yes. Much better that you didn't come."

Did we discuss his agitation with me? No. Did I point out that I was right and he was, well...wrong? No. We simply enjoyed the reconnection, or whatever you like to call it.

For well over 30 years I've been receiving instruction from my guy. He instinctively takes it upon himself to instruct me about anything and everything; from pulling the sheet up higher when I make the bed to how to handle a complicated business transaction and everything in between. (Don't get me started about my role of navigator and his, the driver. Just don't get me started...!)

And there it is; a dynamic set in stone; a dynamic that will never change. He's the Captain. I'm merely a lowly sailor who sometimes oh so tactfully, sets the Captain straight!

Openness - part 2

Without a shadow of a doubt, there is something profoundly wrong with me. Think about it. At the ripe age of 20, I chose the only boy who had the balls to make it clear from the get go that he was in charge. On our very first date, he told me off in no uncertain terms that I had parked my car in the wrong place at his dorm. I was literally stunned at the way my error put him in a dark mood and let's face it; any sensible girl would have got back in her car and headed as far in the other direction as she could get, as fast as she could get.

I often didn't take kindly to his lectures and I still don't always take kindly to them. My sense of my place in the dynamic has evolved such that I am largely at peace with it. Rest assured, however, that I still have my feisty and even bratty moments when I express my displeasure. He didn't take kindly to that over 30 years ago and he still doesn't take kindly to it today.

I talked about openness recently but it has to be said that openness with highly dominant men used to getting their way is a dangerous proposition. I simply can't put onto the airwaves any further comment about openness without that warning attached.

I tried, ever so politely this morning to point out to my darling husband that there was strong evidence over a period of decades to point to the fact that he was a control freak. He rejected it as out of hand. In fact, he said he was insulted that I should say that. Well, I have thought it for eons and perhaps that is where the thought should have stayed - locked in the recesses of my mind. Let's face it. He has passed the mid way point of his life. He has the courage of a lion and is not afraid to take anyone on. What makes me think that just by being open, I can effect any sort of change in him? As far as he is concerned, he does what he does with good intention and that should be good enough for me.

My training tells me this as well. I don't have any control and that is an irrefutable fact. Yet, I have powers of persuasion available to me and I should use them, eating the lion one bite at a time, so to speak. There is no use in walking up to the lion and telling him you want him to change, or move, or not eat you or anything else, now is there? You need to be more subtle with a lion than that. Where does openness get you standing before a lion, for heaven's sake?

And, that is not the only reason I think something is wrong with me. Look at my other choices in life. When I returned from the US what job did I take? What job did I actively seek out simply because I found the man who interviewed me so devilishly opinionated and dominant to the point of being difficult and stubborn? The job where I would need to be submissive to that man; thats what job!

Not to mention that I have a mentor who loves to push me; to instill notions into my head that I am an owned girl; that I should know my place and my purpose. What sort of girl willingly; nay, enthusiastically seeks having that in her life?

All my life, and I don't just mean all my adult life, but all my life, I have gravitated to men who exude a desire and a need for control. And, when they chose to control me, I loved it at the same time as I sometimes hated it.

Yet, it happens time and time again. I blissfully accept the control until I don't and I rebel. Then, there is upset for this reason and this reason alone: the dominant does not want openness at all if it means the submissive says something he does not want to hear. If what she wants to disclose disrupts his control over her, it totally destabilizes him and nothing can be put to right in his mind (or hers) until the submissive is back where she belongs: back in her place. So, what does she do? Of course, she gets back where she came from and she throws the notion of openness out the window as she goes.

I continue to believe that openness is a goal worth striving for but in reality it is ever so much easier said than done.

Bound

As I see life a certain man will gravitate to a certain woman; a woman of great substance - strong, capable, reliable, honest and with an abiding sense of loyalty to him. At the same time as he has high standards for her and encourages her to have her own desires, goals and accomplishments, he takes great pleasure in her vulnerability and her intense and critical need for him to attend to her, to advise her and to be her authority figure.

Such a man, in my experience and observation is a man disinclined to need the advice of others. He is a man of strong will; bright, ambitious, capable and pragmatic. He is a force to be reckoned with.

This woman needs this man. As competent as she is on many levels, her nature demands that in order to feel ‘whole’ she defers to him on many issues and finds her sense of happiness and well being from the connection with him. She may be able to run a company or a busy home full of children but she defers to him as to her choice of hair style, or lipstick colour, her time to go to bed or to eat that piece of chocolate, or a myriad of other small but significant issues.

She wants to please him and if cherry red lipstick is the colour he wants to see on her lips she will make it her business to please him. This task is as important to her as any other that she will make that day. It gives her a profound sense of pleasure to experience his pleasure and approval.

The theory of submissive women has it that she needs to submit to him. And, she does need to do this. She does well when she relinquishes control and allows herself to be controlled. She feels close to him and a gratitude for his ability to acknowledge her submissive nature which must remain hidden in other aspects of her life. She relaxes knowing that in their personal lives, she may be herself and allow her feminine and submissive identity to shine. He challenges her at times and she rises to these challenges and shines in her ability to impress.

This woman, being smart has an inbuilt understanding that although she needs her man for the sustenance of her soul, she has a power over him no less significant than his power over her. She thrills him, provides him with joy and pleasure. Her willingness, desire and inbuilt need to defer to him and accept his control provides him with an energy and sustenance that makes her critical to his peace of mind, his sense of satisfaction and his innate desire to control. It ensures that he remains close to her, protects her and takes his succour from her.

She needs him. He needs her. Their needs in each other are a mirror image of one another. Together they are a formidable team; so much more than the sum of their two individual parts. Equals, they share a power exchange relationship where the power lies with him and the power is removed from her. This makes them both indescribably happy and binds them in a way that few people experience.

Rigged!

Did I ever tell you that my husband and I are completely opposite in every way? I did? Well then, let me tell you again...

When my husband wakes in the middle of the night, for whatever reason, he reacts to stimuli in the same way as he does as if it were the middle of the day: with gusto. Should he stub his toe (as he did the night before last) he makes enough noise that I can hear it. (Am meant to hear it?!) I, on the other hand, when the occasion has arisen, contain my pain within my own body to ensure that nobody hears it.

Should my husband find a son doing gymnastics in the living room at 4 a.m. (as he did this night), he tells him loudly that it is unacceptable and he needs to go to bed. I, on the other hand, creep through the dark and quietly whisper "Are you nuts?! Go to bed!" and quietly tip toe back to bed in the hope I might get back to sleep.

I know enough tricks by now to keep myself asleep through all sorts of activities within the house, but tonight, after I lay there awake for an hour listening to his restlessness, I said,

"I give up. I'm off to my desk."

A minute later, he arrived.

"I'm sorry I woke you, but..."

"Shhhhhhh"

"Okay, would you like a crumpet?"

"Noooooo, thank you."

He ate his crumpet.

"Okay, I am going back to bed. Enjoy your writing!"

"I'll be sure to."

Love him as I do, the man can be so frustrating!

In the same vein, my daughter mentioned something to me that she had read. When a man sneezes, he makes a great, big noise - the louder the better. People invariably stop and wonder what has happened when a man sneezes. It is so explosive! When a woman sneezes, she turns her head to one side, and, as quietly as she possibly can, she sneezes into her hand, apologizing to no one in particular. You might like to observe this for yourself. It is rather a hoot once you are switched into the different styles.

Once upon a time, when I wore high heels on a surface that made a noise, I would try to walk on tiptoes, to avoid disturbing people. I have seen other women do the same thing. I mentioned this to...well he knows who he is...and he said that had to stop. I needed to make my entrance on those high heels. Rather than not want to make a noise, my goal was to have heads turn. And, I do that now. I thrive on making that noise with my heels.

Sometimes, I really do wonder if I might launch out of my submissive mindset and be a bit more loud. Put my needs first and make a good old hallabaloo about things.

"Feed me!"
"Play with me!"
"Put me first!"

Think that would work for me?

Ugh! This game is rigged!

Apples fall close to trees

It makes sense, I think, that apples will not fall too far from the trees, and so it is that my boys have a strong tendency to do things their own way, to have a plan even when it appears that they have no plan at all, and to have rather strong notions of how they want a relationship with a girl to play out.

One of the great blessings of my life is the opportunity to be surrounded by beautiful children who have turned out and are turning out very nicely indeed. But, that doesn't mean that they didn't give me some hard times along the way, as you might imagine if you think for more than a few seconds about what a dominant man in the making might be like to bring up.

My eldest son was loving and single-minded from the very beginning and by the time he had turned three he was ready to lead in the nursery school room. I'm pretty quiet living really and I was a little shocked when the nursery school teachers told me this but they assured me he did it well and the other children had no objection.

His senior school years were back here in our homeland and by the end of seventh grade it was clear I had lost my 'boy'. He was ready to party and to meet girls, and school work was a low priority. Still, he had plenty of potential and I did my best to keep him interested and engaged. I'm a little embarrassed to say that some of his English assignments had 'Vesta' all over them. After all, I was the one who read the book, not him, so it stood to reason that he used a few of the ideas I threw his way. (What mothers do...)

In his final two years, it was all about soccer and girls and his mates. By the middle of the final year, I began getting the first calls from the school. My son was not doing much work at all and he had to knuckle down if he wanted to get into the course he had chosen. We had a talk. He told me they were wrong. He had it under control. (Yeah, right!)

So, he completed all his exams at the end of the year with one to go several days later, and he lost the plot. I just couldn't get his bum on the seat to study and finally, and rather unexpectedly, I blew out. I ranted and raved at him and yelled at him, "Why can't you just do it like everybody else!?" He said he had to go away for a few days. He'd be all right. He needed to think."

So, I sat and cried for a while and then to take my mind off this catastrophic event, I went up to his room and changed his sheets and straightened up and I heard his voice say to another child, "Where's Mum?" He was back within the hour because some girl had told him to stop being silly. Thank you, dear girl! He completed his final exam and was off to university the next year.

Three years later I attended his graduation from university and that of his school time friend and later I asked them (tongue in cheek) why neither of them had received the Dean's medal.

"Mum, to win the Dean's medal you actually have to be seen on campus from time to time. I didn't actually go to university!"

Oh yeah. That's right. He did not.

So, the time came to find a job and with a gusto I hadn't seen anywhere else but on the soccer field, he began to apply for internships with companies and secured himself a position with an international firm.

Hunh! He was starting to play the game.

Two years later, he finds himself exactly where he wants to be, travelling the world, doing interesting work with interesting people and with the world at his feet, really.

So, I email him over there in the USA and tell him that I had lunch with the mothers of his friends. And he replies thus:

"Lunch with the girls hey, yes us boys are very wary of those periodic mothers club meetings. Well I’m sure you know a lot more recent ‘goss’ than me after that. You see Mum although I was a little rebellious at school, and I didn’t really go to uni, and I partied a little too often at times etc etc etc… I had a plan and always (well usually) did what needed to be done to get where I needed to go. And… I got the job that most of my mates would die to have, so I hope you gloated a little at your little get together about where you’ve got me and left the other mothers in despair and trailing in your wake! Good work."

And, I laughed my head off! The darling 'little bastard' had it all mapped out and was well ahead of me.

I am extraordinarily proud of him. I can't hold that back. And, I'm proud of him in countless ways, too. He's a little wary of a commitment with a girl right now. He's "done that, been there" and the girl is going to need to have a few tricks up her sleeve (or be prepared to let him lead) to get him down the aisle, but that is all in the future right now.

So, spare a thought for the mothers of dominant men occasionally. I may not have deserved the Dean's medal either, but surely I deserve some kind of medal!!

True love

A dominant man just is.
He cannot turn off.
A submissive woman loves him for who he is.
Her heart is steady and she follows it;
As she must.

A dominant man is a force of nature.
Often a light summer breeze but
sometimes the bluster of a foul day.

The submissive woman stays the course
but she has a mind as well as a heart.
She finds refuge in the still of the cave.
She gathers her thoughts:
is calm, breathes deep; resuscitates.

The dominant man waits for her return
like the bear without his breakfast.
It is her unconditional love of him
which keeps his life on course.

As opposites attract,
So shall they reconnect.
Two hearts beat to the rhythm of
the same drum;

Love.

Turned on

I have great respect for those people who are willing to express their thoughts and beliefs, regardless of whether they are popular or well received. I have always had in my life a man, be he father, brother, husband, boss or good friend, who feels entirely comfortable in expressing his thoughts openly. Sometimes, those thoughts, frustrations or opinions are expressed in a way that is unfortunate. I can think of many times when I have wished all the way down to my toes that the opinion or complaint be delivered in a more tactful way. It is just not my style to be aggressive, until really and truly pushed into a corner where I refuse to go.

I might say to him “Darling, people are looking” but that means nothing to him when all fired up. If he wants a certain outcome and someone is blocking his way; if he feels an injustice has been done and he wants rectification, then even news cameras aren’t going to stop him from insisting on his way. In many ways, this D/s space is nothing new to me.

I do feel that such men are attracted to women who are able to balance out their assertive personalities. It is no co-incidence, I don’t think that my husband chose a sweet girl; fairly quiet and not particularly assertive. Life with a girl as keen for her own way as he was for his would have been a rather sordid affair. I’m not saying that I don’t pursue my own goals and go about convincing him of them but that’s usually done in a covert way. The times when I’ve shouted and been contrary didn’t really resolve differences or get me where I wanted to go, and I got smarter than that. In any case, I’ve learned to ‘let go’ and when I did, I found him more willing to take my desires and needs into consideration such that what we want is much more closely aligned.

Living as I do in an area of the city where many people are ambitious for increased wealth and put a great deal of focus on achieving that goal and then spending the money they make, I have often wondered where the ‘real’ people are. I have often said to my husband since we moved here,

“But, where are the radicals? Where are the people who think differently? Where are the people who can turn on my frontal lobes?”

I’m looking for people who think outside the box; who can teach me something; make me think. I want to be ‘turned on’ not just in my body but in my brain.

So, this morning’s conversation with the girls after exercise class was a treat. Mary, who I don’t see often told us of her belief that life doesn’t end at death; rather, we have many lives and the people whom she loves who have died often come to visit her. In my experience, when one person opens up so do others, and another woman explained that she was going through a very hard time but that she didn’t feel alone because her deceased parents came to visit often at the moment.

The two woman needed to be heard and I simply listened but I could have added my own story that when I went through a very hard time myself I often wrapped my arms around my body and had the strongest feeling that they were the arms of my father. It gave me a great deal of strength.

As well as having a strong desire to submit, I have a strong desire to be with people who can fire my synapses. I want to be challenged in various ways and that is most likely to happen with people who can give of themselves; their brains, their experiences, their perspectives on life.

As a group we talked of the richness of our lives – none of us had missed a meal, gone without shoes or education. And, we also talked of the strong desire to give back – to give of ourselves in some way. Naturally, I can’t speak to them of this blog, but it reminded me of all that I get back from the blog – a sense of sharing my ‘self’ with you.

Sometimes, it can feel to me that there is an anomaly. I want very much to express my submissive nature and I want very much to feel the stimulus of great intellectual conversation and thoughts. Of course, there is no conflict between these two desires. Being with my husband, for example, allows me to fulfil both goals and sometimes allows me to empty my thinking brain as well – something that brings me a rush of joy and euphoria.

A submissive woman is complex. (Duh!) She needs to think and to be an active member of society. Yet, she needs to express her submissive nature and have her man dominate not just her but his landscape, as he is want to do. She needs to have available to her complex and intellectual thought but also to have her world sometimes narrowed down to the most confined and simple space. Is it any wonder we sometimes confuse ourselves with what we want and how we want our men to behave?

I certainly don’t have all the answers but I can say that in the D/s arena, I have never felt more turned on emotionally or physically. It may be complicated but it works for me.

Strategy

Girls, huddle round; make a circle, hold hands.

Shhhhh! Quiet now; I don't want to be overheard.

You know, and I know that he is not always right. And, you know and I know that he can be soooo irrational.

Yeah. Yeah. We all know dat.

But, trust me, it is no use makin a fuss. Coz he's not goin to admit anythin anyways wen he's in dat moooood.

So, don't get all steamed up. Nah! Just 'snuff it off'. Forget abowt it.

And, go ahead and have a good day.

Okay?

All right! High fives.


Yes!!!!

Don't let the bed bugs bite!

On one level, I waste considerable time. I really could achieve so much more in a day if I just didn’t turn on my laptop.

On another level, it is not wasted time at all.

Every single day of this extraordinary experience in the D/s space, I learn.

I would not know how to begin to tell you all the lessons I learned today. Maybe most important of all, I learned the value of love, of forgiveness, of wanting to please, and of friendship.

Today, I had one of the most profound conversations of my life; on chat. He put so much effort into setting me straight and I hope when we left one another at the end of the conversation he knew that he had sorted the whole thing out in my mind. What a guy!

Here’s the thing! Dominant men are not just good at dominating submissive women; their wives, their girlfriends; their lovers; whatever.

Dominant men can make the most adorable ‘boy next door’ chums.

For the purposes of anonymity I have altered the name and the odd word, but this exchange at the end of our heated, intense, dramatic, and sometimes stern exchange, says it all. Dominant men can be just adorable. This sweet man was kept up well past his bedtime and by the time we were saying good night, things had got pretty soppy and silly. But, dominant men are little boys sometimes just like submissive women are little girls. Ain’t life grand? Please enjoy:

A: Vesta?
me: yes?
A: have you smiled?
me: yes, I am smiling right now
A: thank you
you are better then?
me: it is my pleasure
than a barrel of monkeys
Sir: and that is good?
me: i think so
i think I come with a cautionary note
"Lovely girl but prone to blow like a bottle rocket. Beware!"
A: good thing I have no idea what that means then
me: when you are rested I shall explain
time for all good little boys to turn off their computers
and tuck down
do you have your blankie?
A: I shall ignore it again and again and again
me: are you all tucked in?
do you need a glass of water?
A: I think I'm ok Eddie and I should be fine
me: that's good
well don't you let the bed bugs bite
and pleasant dreams
A: have a pleasant evening
me:time to turn off the light
nightie night
me: A, have you fallen asleep
you need to turn off the lap top first
A!!!!!
A!!!!!!!!
turn off the lap top first
don't let it drop on the floor
A!!!!!!!!