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.

Julius Caesar and The Dark Lord

The reason why Shakespeare has endured through the generations is that he was a master at understanding the many faces of people; the public face and the private face. He shows us Julius Caesar, for example, as a great Emperor; brave and strong. Caesar is acutely aware of his public image and even amongst friends he doesn't let his guard down. In Act 2, Scene 2 we see a different side to Caesar; a man afraid of the thunder and lightening. He is a mortal with fears.

When Calpurnia, his wife, arrives on the scene she does not speak full of deference for him. She doesn't refer to him as 'My Lord' but rather banters back and forth with him 'as a wife'. She has an opinion (that he should not go to the Senate that day) and she doesn't pussy foot around about sharing it with him. He is prepared to acquiesce to her until Decius convinces him that Calpurnia interpreted her dream incorrectly and then off Caesar goes to his death.

I was thinking about this scene this morning when it occurred to me that the sort of sex we have in a power exchange sort of way is perhaps more formal or more 'the public face' than the private face. We're more likely to say "Yes, Sir" than "Yes, husband". We're more likely to recognize that one person has the authority over the other than the sort of sexual encounter we might have where we are two people making love to one another; equals.

As Shakespeare knew hundreds of years ago, we have more than one face. We all need to show our vulnerabilities, our weaknesses, our fears and worries to the other. If the public world demands that we show no weakness, for fear of being vanquished, then at home with our beloved, we need to show him or her other aspects of our personality. This is what it is to be human and no agreed dynamic between two people can work satisfactorily if we aren't prepared to sometimes change roles: for the leader to show vulnerability or for the follower to come up with the strength to see them both through on a rough day. This is life.

Yet, I confess, I am who I am and I consistently seek opportunities to feel 'the gain' that comes from the power exchange dynamic. I don't look to lead overall. Like Calpurnia, if I feel strongly enough, I'll make my claim as to the fitness of things, but I don't want control and feel restless with control. I want to be led and never more than in the process of making love. For whatever reason I want to feel the poor Maiden at the mercy of the tyrannical Dark Lord.

Introversion

Our life here couldn’t be more different than our life in the city. We bought this little house about 10 years ago on the spur of the moment and it turned out to be a great decision. My husband had noticed the ‘For Sale’ sign from the water and he rang to make a time to see the property that afternoon.

In fact, we were the first people to see through the house since the sign went up. The real estate agent followed us around like a hawk and it was only when we were alone for a few seconds in the small bathroom that my husband whispered, “I don’t think so.” 

It was true that the house was a ‘gooby’, our word for a place lacking in style. But, in my mind the property had a lot going for it. There was a pier at the end of the garden for his old boat. The price was cheap. And, the house could be fixed up over time.

“I think it could be renovated easily,” I whispered back.

“Really?”

We said our goodbyes and began the journey home to the city, all the time talking about aspects of the property. Eventually, my husband said that in the next few days he might make an offer.

“I reckon do it right now,” I said.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

“I have the feeling you could get them to make a decision immediately. They’ve bought another house and the summer season is over. I reckon it’s worth a try.”

My husband mulled the idea over for several minutes, picked up the phone and rang the agent. He wanted to make an offer, he said, that lasted for the next one hour. There were a few calls back and forth but long before we reached the city we had a holiday home that overlooked a lake.

We’ve worked tirelessly on the property. Early on, we had a man come and put in wooden floors in all areas except those we would one day expand to make for a bigger room and a bigger balcony. We shed the windows of curtains we didn’t like, painted the entire house inside and removed many huge trees that crowded us in and blocked our view of the lake. I think we’ll always have a project because that’s a lot of what we do here, work to make it how we want.

When I am down here (in Australia, we always talk of being down on the farm) there is usually plenty of time to spare as well. That is the whole idea of being here – to live in a way we can’t in the city. We rarely use the dishwasher, unless we have a fair number of people to stay. I don’t use the Internet hardly at all. Instead, I read. This is an enormous pleasure and indulgence for me. I have just finished reading a novel in less than a week and I simply adored wasting away the mornings lying in bed.

For those of you who think you have my husband all pegged out, the dynamics of the relationship alter here. He often brings me food as I lay in bed all morning reading and writing. He goes out and chops the wood and keeps the fire stoked and he always likes to fill his trailer very high with his cuttings from the garden and take them off to the tip (dump?).

We lead a rather farm style life here where the happenings of the world seem removed from us and life boils down to the bare necessities – good, plain food; wood for the fire; clothes dried on the line and newspapers, books and the odd movie to entertain us.

When the time comes to pack up and return to life, we feel a bit as if we are being dragged by the coat tails back into society – back to routines and busy days; appointments, school runs; committees; corporate boards and world markets. We go reluctantly.

As I sit here, all I can hear is the movement of the clock, a slight whir of the refrigerator, the wind in the trees, the singing of birds and the clicking of my French manicured nails on the keyboard. There’s plenty of time to think; to daydream; to put events in their perspective. It is in these quiet moments that I reflect on the dual passions of my life: the desire to enrich my mind and my soul with fascinating people, words and ideas, as well as the desire to still my mind and let it all pass me by. I am at heart an introvert and life here suits me very well, until I hunger for more stimulation and then, it is time to move on again.

Equality

I am noticing that there is a bit of a movement towards the idea that 'equality' is not the perfect and harmonious state it was cracked up to be. Instead of believing, for example, that partners in a marriage or in a relationship need to be equal, there are more people talking about embracing the differences - in skills, in ability, in knowledge and in the desire and ability to lead.

Of course, it is clear that I have come at this from the point of view that I am the one happy to be led. I don't want to be the boss. I think that is clear. Yet, I do do some things better than my husband. For example, I am better with routine and order on a day by day and every day and every year basis. I take responsibility for establishing the routine for the children, for the meals, for the social calender, for present buying and putting out the garbage. On the whole, things that need to be done repetitively don't entice my husband and they are better left to me. He doesn't want to do them so it works for both of us. The only proviso I would note is that he doesn't waste time telling me if he doesn't like the way I happen to do one of those tasks. If he thinks I haven't stacked the dishwasher the best possible way, he tells me. If he thinks the dogs need washing, he tells me. Like that.

Of course, we are not in the majority here. A lot of men don't (want to) take the lead and even if they did, they don't necessariy have wives or girlfriends or partners that would agree to this. Most people have areas of disagreement and they sort that out the best way they can. Sometimes, the only way to sort that out is to agree never to see one another again. Or, they meet somewhere in the middle. Or, they both remain frustrated with one another. There are any number of outcomes for these power struggles.

I am in contact right now with a woman who is very interested in promoting women led relationships. She feels that power struggles may result in a couple agreeing that the woman should take the lead; that 'equality' is not the solution necessarily. She is thinking here of women who are particularly competent; perfectly capable of running the show and she wonders out loud about this. Are there not men who secretly would love to hand the reins over to their wives; to pay the bills; make the decisions, arrange the party and the annual holiday; even make the sexual advances??

For my husband and I it will always be a bit of a blend. He's happy not to be responsible for various decisions, so long as I decide things in a way that he would agree with, and that I consult him when I am not certain about that. He knows, for example, that I might buy a platter without consulting him because he trusts my taste. He knows that I will not buy an expensive work of art without him because that has always been a decision we have discussed together first.

When I look around at the marriages I know, it really does seem like a lot of men are happy for their wives to take the lead. Or, they are frightened of them. I have considered this theory quite carefully and I think for many men, this is the case.

But, putting aside the techicalities for a minute and just staying with the basic theory...this notion of all people being equal is a bit simplistic, don't you think? Of course, we are all of equal worth in terms of all being human and all deserving of a vote and education and rights and so on. But, we do have different strengths and different skills and aptitude and knowledge and it makes sense to me to accept this and embrace it into our lives. If I speak French and my husband doesn't (I speak it incredibly badly but at least I speak it, whereas he knows less than 10 words) he is going to leave the communicating with French speaking people to me. It is, after all, our best chance of getting fed in a little French town where no English is spoken.  Whereas, I am going to leave the details of purchasing a major asset to him. It would be ludicrous to suggest I could do that better than him because he has skills and experience that I do not.

It is very challenging to some people, this sense that we should relax a bit about 'equality' and it has so many pitfalls in terms of being mismanaged that it seems almost too dangerous to go to that sort of thought. And yet, people are going to that sort of thought more and more. Because, if we don't, how else are we to explore engaging experiences with our partners?

I guess all I can really say for sure is that I got a whole lot happier and fulfilled when I gave up the notion of equality for the idea of equal, but different and accepted myself for the very feminine damsel that I am. I got happier when I wholly embraced my strong desire to be taken; dominated; held down; even mind fucked (well, especially 'mind fucked', actually).

In the same way, perhaps there are men out there hoping against hope that their women will express their desire to take the reins. We are all very different and varied as to how we tick and that is, surely, a very good thing.

Revelations

We spent some quality time with our daughter and her new (and much adored) boyfriend recently and I am delighted to write that my husband found the young man as agreeable as I had found him some months ago when I visited her in April. He is bright, well-spoken, considerate and most importantly, he adores our daughter. More than that, my husband found him grounded, practical; more than capable of running a business or forging a career.

My daughter and I shared some time alone after that whilst we purchased a winter jacket for her and walked home through Hyde Park on an unexpectedly balmy night last night and she shared her boyfriend's impression of us. Ahhhhhh! Of course! It was not just us analyzing him but he analyzing us!

I thought to share two of those impressions here on the journal:

1) My husband and I are rather competitive.

Now, this came as a shock at first. I can't stand it when couple compete with one another and I said that this surely was not right. But, as she laid out her case, it was clear that we do compete on a certain level. If I finish my meal before him (because he has been doing all the talking and I have been the one listening and eating) he will say, "You got through that fast". I hate hearing that. Any girl would hate hearing that and so I make a deliberate effort to eat slowly almost all the time until the next time he catches me out and repeats the phrase again.

We were walking along High Street in Kensington when he said to me, "I really loved the Portrait Gallery. I don't think you realize just how much I love history." I replied, "Darling, I have been with you for 35 years. You think I don't know that? I studied History as a Major and you know much more than I do." He looked at me, startled that I should say such a thing and then said, "Can I have that in writing?"

That is two of hundreds of examples. Shockingly, it seems we do compete.

2) I respond to my husband like a little girl:

It seems that I make quite a few naughty comments; comments I know I shouldn't and to protect myself or if I am scolded for them, I react by looking like a naughty, little girl.

That can't be right!? Or is the young man right about that as well?

What a hoot it must have been to be a fly on the wall - he analyzing us and we analyzing him. I am not at sure he is actually too observant.

Agnes - Into the Courtyard

follows on from Frederick - Into the Courtyard

As Agnes proceeded along the stairway she discovered foliage was in her way and she slowed right down so that she could move the overgrowth out of the way of her face. Her imagination was starting to come into play and she had put herself into a jungle sort of scenario with Frederick along to protect her from all the wild creatures. It was a game she often liked to play; to imagine scenarios in her head and she slipped into the role of a jungle explorer quite easily. Even better, there were no mosquitoes to deal with here, although she did look above her from time to time to check for snakes, so able was she to enter a world of her own creation.

When Agnes found that she had landed into a small pond, she was quite disoriented for a moment and she stopped dead. Fortunately, Frederick told her where to go and she stepped across the stepping stones that led to the open space of the courtyard. She found it rather magical and she told Frederick so, although she didn’t want to let on all was going on in her mind. She held onto her imagination as a lovely secret and had never shared that with anybody.

She was impressed with what Frederick had done with the garden and she liked to hear him talk about it and how it had come to pass that he cared for it. She very much liked people to be multi-layered, to have various interests and even to be complicated. She liked that Frederick was a surprise package. She found so many boys so dull and one dimensional and felt privileged to be in the company of this sophisticated man. She worried that she was not interesting enough for him.

It had been rather humid amongst all the plants and Agnes was used to getting much more sleep than she had last night. Perhaps she had not drunk enough water, she wondered, for she felt a little dizzy. She tried to ignore the sensation but it was not going away. She eventually had to tell Frederick before she fainted and he was quick to sit her down.

Agnes felt Frederick place his arms around her shoulder and pull her in. He seemed to be looking at her in a concerned way and it embarrassed her. She didn’t like the fact that she felt unwell in front of him. Yet, as he touched her hair or moved his hand on her shoulder slightly and seemed so generally solicitous of her, she began to realize that he was not at all cross with her but genuinely caring and looking to ease her discomfort. She felt very warm towards him. He was a good man, she felt.

Absentmindedly, she murmured in response to these gestures of kindness until she felt moved to hold his fingers across the palm of one hand and to rub his index finger. The giddiness had gone and although she did not feel entirely well, she did not want to ruin Frederick’s plans. She willed herself to be perfectly all right.

“I think I am feeling better now...”

As they got off the bench and proceeded with the tour Agnes was very aware of how Frederick was holding her. He had taken her by the wrist and this was a new feeling. It left her powerless and she liked the sensation of being led in this way. She felt very soft; rather small; happy. Agnes loved the way that Frederick took the initiative to move her body this way and that as he pointed out various details around the courtyard. She loved being shown about and given this very private tour. It made her feel special in his eyes.

When his mobile phone rang and he excused himself to take the call, he made it clear he wanted her to wait right there. In spite of what he had directed, she had the thought that he would be on the phone at least a few minutes and in that time she could do a little exploring herself. For reasons she didn’t know entirely, she felt drawn to a corner of the garden where there were tall bushes. She wondered if she could hear a sound coming from that direction; perhaps the chirping of birds. She wandered towards the bushes.

Just as Agnes almost disappeared into the bushes, she felt an arm yank her back. Shocked for a moment, she realized it was Frederick and he did not look amused. Although his words were measured, she could sense some agitation. She wanted to explain herself; that she meant no harm and was just filling in time but her explanation and her flattery of what she saw seemed to make him even more agitated. She felt the need to apologize but even that was unacceptable to him.

“It is not enough to be sorry. You need to be careful,” he responded.

For the first time, she felt the age difference between them acutely; a young, inexperienced girl with a mature sophisticated and professional man who was making it clear that he meant what he said. She was embarrassed at the sudden chiding and felt foolish. She looked down and realizing that he was expecting something of her, she quietly said, “Yes, Sir”.

She was confused by his sudden change in demeanour and she felt put off her balance. This was a side of him that she had not seen before. Yet, as quickly as the friction had arrived, it was gone and the Frederick she knew before that moment returned. He pointed to a spot where he liked to picnic or to lie out on a blanket. It was as if her wandering away had never taken place. She felt a bit confused.

He put his arm around her, smiled and continued on with his explanation about the building and garden and the story of it all. It interested her well enough for she was also interested in these topics and she tried to pay attention. Her mind kept wandering off to thoughts about Frederick and her own behaviour. She was going over it in her mind wanting not to make a similar mistake again.

Returning to the grassy area, Frederick asked her if she was hungry and although she wasn’t really hungry as yet, she said she was a little hungry, working on the basis that he must be if had mentioned it. He held out his keys to her and asked her to return to the apartment and put together some lunch in a basket and bring it down.

This request surprised and worried her. It had never occurred to her that Frederick would allow her in his apartment alone. Most of all, she worried that she would not be able to prepare the food in the manner to which he would approve. He seemed to do everything so effortlessly and to have strong opinions. She didn’t want to do something that made it any more evident that she was really just a simple, young girl with no particular abilities or finesse. At least, that is how she felt about herself.

Perhaps to him, she looked like she knew what she was doing with her life, but inside her head, she lacked enormous self-confidence and questioned why he would want to spend time with her in the first place. His reassurances gave her the confidence to accept the challenge and she walked towards the stairs, trying to evoke the feeling that she was under control and had more than enough confidence to accept any challenge. It was something that she did all the time around Paris, standing tall and walking with a gait that suggested she was a woman who knew herself and her power. It was her mask.

As Agnes walked up the spiral stairs her mind was focussed on making the picnic as delicious and enticing as she possibly could. This man had got under her skin and more than anything, she wanted him to be pleased not with just her but with every move she made and every last little thing she did.

Frederick and Agnes: The nightcap

Agnes followed where Frederick led her. She felt a little as if she were being led in a dance. Thinking of the dance and the music playing in her head, she began to hum. It was something she did instinctively and even without consciousness. Suddenly, he turned a corner into a darkish alley and she pulled on his arm and enquired where he was taking her. When he informed her that they were to have an after dinner drink, she was secretly delighted. It seemed such a grown up thing to do.

Frederick took Agnes by the wrist and they made their way through the bar, closely passing by people sitting at tables and on couches. She made note of the fact that several people spoke to Frederick and that once they had greeted him, their eyes went to her. She always felt self conscious when she was watched and particularly this evening. Agnes tried not to make contact with their eyes directly but it was clear that a few of the men were taking her in from head to foot. It reminded her of being at the zoo and being watched by a tiger. If Frederick were not there, she would be their prey. She drew closer to him for comfort and protection. She tried to ignore the potent smell of cigarette smoke in the air.

Frederick had her sit at a rather worn, red velvet couch but to her surprise and a little disappointment he sat down on a black leather chair at a 90 degree angle to her. It would have been so lovely to have him right by her side and be able to whisper comments about the patrons into his ear. Frederick ordered them both sifters of B & B. She had never had this before but was perfectly prepared to drink it, regardless of the taste. She would never think of letting on at her ignorance of such things. She wanted to appear as sophisticated as she could, especially here in this bar and in the presence of women whose style of dress seemed so chic in comparison to her simple clothing.

As Agnes looked around the bar, she took in so many things new to her. Whilst she was aware of her own innocence in such a bar, she was also revelling in the new experience and grateful for the opportunity. This was the sort of experience that she had hoped to have in Paris. Agnes observed the waitress come towards them again with their drinks and as well, she noticed Frederick watch the waitress’s breasts as she bent down to put the drinks on the low table.

It was not lost on her that Frederick was most likely one of those men her father had warned her about – one of the “lascivious men” he had said would take advantage of her. Frederick turned towards her at that instant and caught her watching him.

“Gretchen is an old friend.”

Agnes was momentarily wounded that Frederick must have had many women in his life. It was a pang of jealousy combined with a sense of insecurity that made her retort,

“She doesn’t look very old.”

Frederick ignored her comment and asked if she liked the bar. This gave her an opportunity to recover from her strange feeling and she responded that whilst she hadn’t been anywhere quite like this before, she liked it and was enjoying the music. He wanted to know where she went with her friends when she went out and she replied they met at local bistros and there they drank the local wine. She considered that even to her ears her response was one of a naive and sheltered girl.

Agnes watched as Gretchen returned and placed an elaborately carved wooden box on the tray and a glass appliance that looked something like a kerosene lamp. She had never seen this before but she immediately felt insecure about it. She turned to Frederick in the hope he would give her some sort of explanation and he answered, "Water pipe, hashish”. She asked him if he ordered it and seemed relieved when he said he had not and that he would have it removed.

By now, Agnes had taken several sips of her drink and having drunk the wine with her meal she was a beginning to feel slightly light headed and a bit sleepy. When Frederick began to ask her several questions about her dating habits, she answered them compliantly but she chose her words carefully. There were matters she did not wish to share with him. Her weekend dating habits were innocent enough in the main when she would join friends for a meal or a movie. She had nothing to hide on that account and she was happy to tell him about this.

If Frederick was at all like her father or her uncles, he would anticipate that Agnes was an innocent young woman who had yet to fully understand the appetites of men. He would never guess, and would be bothered, she suspected, if he knew that she had once had an encounter with a teacher at her school. She had a crush on Mr. Jacques, the drama teacher that had led to her going for a drive with him after school. In the woods just out of town he had kissed her, had her take his penis in her mouth and used his tongue to stimulate her pussy. He had not tried to fuck her.

This first sexual encounter with the handsome Mr. Jacques was a memory she held dear. She was disappointed when Mr. Jacques told her next day that they could not meet privately again. The images remained vividly in her mind. It was her secret and not for Frederick’s consumption; at least not yet. Although unworldly, she prided herself on being sensible and astute.

When Frederick said it was time to head for home, she was happy he had said so. She remained very quiet and followed along without comment.

Reeling in Agnes

For some weeks now, the idea of expressing ideas in the form of an essay or post or article has not held much appeal, whilst the idea of expressing ideas through stories has held plenty of appeal. In a scene or a story there is so much to be said about how I feel about how a submissive girl responds to the energy a dominant man brings to her. I know that I should explore characters who don't respond the way I might respond but I feel that this is the way it is for so many of us. The girl goes about her life and something about the way she acts, or moves, or looks or observes the world gives a dominant man some sort of inkling that she is the kind of girl that he is looking for/appreciates.

I'm not altogether sure that a girl with a submissive nature is out on the prowl in quite the same way that the man keeps his antenna up. She's more inclined to go about her business, I think, and if something comes across her path that interests her, she notices and enjoys. It is a rare day in her life when she actually makes a move. At least, that's what I think. I'm not at all the sort of girl to make a move but I'm mature enough these days to not be shy about noticing men about me; to enjoy watching them in action.

Australian men of a certain age can be extraordinarily handsome. I was in the supermarket choosing vegetables in the past few days when a man of mid 30s perhaps, came in my direction. They tend not to be able to shop without making a call. "Honey, did you want the flat leafed parsley or the regular?" And so, he was on the phone when I spied him. A dishy, wide eyed, clean skinned, well built hunk of a guy in a lovely striped suit. In my younger days, I might have ensured he didn't catch me checking him out, but I felt not a tinge of embarrassment when we caught eyes and it was evident I was enjoying the scenery. It was something about the way he walked in as if he owned the environment about him; as if the store were there for his private convenience.

My oldest son is just like that. There really is not an environment which he doesn't own for the time that he is there. Whether it be a small town in Mexico or a golf course in Dubbo, whilst he is there, he dominates the space; enjoys it, makes use of it and leaves his presence felt. He oozes a sense of self and a special quality that life is for living. He takes those in his company along for the ride and whilst they are with him, they feel a certain kind of pleasure that he has graced them with his company. I don't say this because he is my son. I have nothing to do with it at all. He was born this way.

I feel sure that I married the man I did because I responded to his energy for life. He had no sense of fear. He didn't know where he was going but he knew that he was on his way. Thirty years later, he remains enthusiastic about so much. Everything is achievable and solvable and setbacks are merely that. "Leave it to beaver," he says, and I do.

My females characters are especially vulnerable to men who wish to "feed" on submissive girls like them because they are so easily infected by their assertiveness, their charisma and their ability to engineer a situation. A man taking the initiative is exactly what turns submissive girls on and so you might buy them a cup of coffee and suddenly whisk them off to show them your etchings before they can stop themselves to say "no". They are intoxicated by a show of force, or at least an assumption that they will follow along. Something in the pit of their stomach says, "I can't pass this up. This is just too delicious. This is just way too much fun..."

The girl in the upcoming scene, Agnes, is in a terribly vulnerable position. Frederick is much more mature, worldly and sophisticated. He is older; more than capable of getting what he wants and she truly does want to explore what he is offering. But, is she just another feather in his cap; another notch on his belt? Is he merely hungry and looking for a meal to nourish himself before he moves on again or is he genuinely interested in her as an individual?

I certainly don't think that submissive girls walk about looking for "the one" necessarily, but no girl wants to feel that she is being 'used' in the sense of 'used up'. She doesn't want to feel like a dill when a few dates, weeks or months later, he says, "it's not you, it's me/you're too good for me", and so she tempers her own appetite for dishy, dominant men with a sense to hold back: look and see.

And so for Agnes it is one step forward and two steps back as Frederick tries to overcome her 'thinking' brain and appeal to the hidden desires below the surface. He seems to have played his cards just right - given her enough time to digest the pros and cons - to have her eating out of his hands.

I am delighted to say that you not only have Agnes' version of events now but those of Frederick. Frankly, sometimes I am just appalled at how manipulative dominant men can be!

Respect

A discussion over coffee this morning with girls I know at the gym reminded me of how very fortunate I am to have been able to express my submissive nature; to have been accepted for my nature and to explore that nature in its full length and breadth. For it is a most vanilla world out there, away from these pages and others like it, where I have no hope of expressing my true nature or of being accepted for who I truly am.

In the group of women with whom I sat, there was talk of a woman whose marriage with a renowned surgeon crumbled because “she wanted too much sex”. And, there was a story of a couple who had been unable to consummate their marriages after ten years. In every example and comment there was mention of people unable to find satisfaction with the person with whom they shared their lives over some aspect of power, desire for affection or how to live their lives. There were a lot of really confused people, it seemed to me!

I had a strong reminder lately that in the kind of relationship where I function best and at my most happy and complete, there is deep respect. There is respect for me for the woman that I am, the whole woman, and there is respect for me for the particular needs that I have to be at the bottom of a power exchange. I am humbled and eternally grateful for that understanding and care.

Equally important is that I show and feel respect for the person on the top. It does not do me or the relationship we share the slightest bit of good for there to be doubt about who is leading whom. In my relationship, there are ways and means of expressing my point of view, of asking for something or even giving thanks for something. It is not my role to be anything other than pleasing. It is my role to use my talents to persuade, point out something, or offer my opinion in an appropriate manner.

Of all the lessons I have learned, I think this one has actually been the hardest one for me to put into action minute by minute and day by day. I have always had flashes of anger, or frustration or being peeved and from the moment we started dating it has bothered my husband and he has done his best to stamp it out. If I have to repeat myself three times because he has not heard me well enough, then so be it. Maybe next time I might get his attention first, or not be turned away when I talk to him. Frustration on my part, illustrated in the tone of my voice is not something he wants to hear.

I had a flash of anger several days ago and was met with instant dismissal. Much more punishing to me than getting a good telling off on the spot is dismissal. As so many submissives have said before me, it is the disconnection that is the punishment. In retrospect, it was a darn good call. It took me a full 24 hours to really understand that this situation was all my doing, and that it was I who had chosen to bring this on myself. No self respecting dominant is going to put up with a “mean and nasty” girl, as I was later called.

Of course, the correction imposed is really more like a salvation than a punishment for a correction/punishment is the beginning of a reconciliation of the dynamic: a cleansing of sorts and most submissives will do whatever necessary to make amends and be returned to good graces, I think.

I can say all of this because I am completely confident about who I am now and what I need and what my dominant needs, too. And I would not want to damage what I have for the world, for it has great value to me. Respect for one another is one of the great strengths of a high functioning power exchange relationship and to this end, a role model for any relationship between two people, surely.

I’ll be darned if I understand what the big deal is for those in vanilla land and why so few people actually understand the subtleties and strengths of the power exchange dynamic. I am still the same woman sitting there amongst those women this morning as I am here, yet I am unable to share this part of my life. I am unable to share that I am incredibly happy with my relationship for fear that I am seen as less because of my desire and need to be at the bottom of a profoundly moving and marvellously successful interpersonal relationship. And, that is just ignorant.

Our dynamic

With some reluctance we left our dear little Spanish abode and headed over the Pyrenees mountains. A submissive acting as a navigator for her Dominant is always a challenging situation but surprisingly, we found our way to the small village of our destination, requiring only the assistance of three French farmers to find our way within the village to the little hamlet. Many handshakes and kisses later, we wandered down the laneway leading to our Australian friends who had decided on a French country lifestyle.

Of course, we were given a tour of the farm and we sang the praises of all they had achieved. They have worked very hard and with such positive spirit to build a live for themselves on the other side of the world and they deserved every compliment we sent their way. A most convivial couple with a very colorful past, frankly they drank us under the table and we left for Paris with the notion of 'drying out'. I don't think we have drunk so much alcohol in our lives.

Their dynamic actually deserves comment on these pages. The husband is, in fact, ten years younger than his wife and whilst they are a very romantic couple, there is an element of mothering here. She looks after him wonderfully well, much as she might one of her boys, whilst at the same time referring to him as "the leader" and at other times, "the boss".

He'd mucked up the barbeque and in the end, she had to put the meat in a pan to get it cooked enough. When we finally ate at 11.30 pm (it's the french way?!) she was a little cheeky and he asked, "Caroline, do you want to have your bottom smacked?" "Yes, please. Yes, I do, I do."
Ah ha! I was amongst like minded people on some level.

Yet, it is a dynamic most unlike ours. He's very tender towards her and she's very caring of him but it is very much a 'live and let live' approach. My husband wouldn't tolerate all that 'advice' she gives him for a minute and I'd be referred to my "place" smartly if I gave all that direction. Yet , they get on marvellously well, each incredibly tolerant of the other. If I showed any sign of drinking large amounts of alcohol, I'd be given a directive to reduce my intake, but he just pours her another glass. It is something, to be honest, I don't understand, but there it is. Having said that, they are extremely connected and loving and it works brilliantly for them.

Having lived in close quarters with another couple for over four days, needless to say, when we reached our Paris apartment, we dropped our bags at the door and made love all afternoon. We went for a walk around Paris after dinner and my husband said,

"Can you believe it, cindi? We've been together officially for 30 years."

"Are you sick of me yet owner? Would you like a new girl?"

"Now where would I find another cindi?" he wanted to know.

Life without each other is something we don't wish to contemplate.

My husband has mentioned a number of ideas to celebrate our anniversary. If I understand correctly, and I will need to confirm, I was given permission to get nipple rings. I'm not entirely sure if that was a mad moment or not when he said that. He also said that if I wish, our first museum visit tomorrow could be to Musee de l'Erotisme. Yayayayay! Aren't wedding anniversaries fun?!