DD versus D/s

 I happened to see on Instagram a post that said, 'These are the three words that saved my marriage' (and it's not I love you'). I was sufficiently curious and went to the link to discover that the three words were 'You do you.'

There's merit to this approach. Maybe especially in the D/s space there's a strong chance you are partnered with someone the opposite of you in so many ways. So, to be understanding, maybe even celebratory about the differences is a good thing. It doesn't take much thought to realize that if you have a submissive bent and your partner does too, that's not the dynamic you're looking for. 

A certain amount of frustration, to put it mildly, is going to ensue about these differences, however, it has to be said. Great to have an understanding of the other's quirks and areas of paramount difference to your own, but not so great when those differences impact your life adversely.

I was on a hunt for something a bit different to roll around in my mind and came across this DD, or is it CDD, site where there was an enormous emphasis on training a wife to be neat and tidy, competent, responsible, to do the household chores. Men were on there, and the wives too, talking about laundry, or not doing the laundry. There was talk about being lazy and forgetting to charge the mobile phone before one went out with the children.

This was like reading about people so different to me, I really couldn't relate. I have always been the one to do all the laundry, even long before we married. No-one, and I mean no-one could ever call me lazy. I am, nearly all the time, in constant motion, doing things and achieving tasks. Honestly, I am the one trying to motivate anyone who might help me to achieve all these goals I have in my head.

There are little things brought to my attention. My children will say I have kept too much of their art projects, but when I try to throw them out, they have second thoughts. My desk doesn't always look like that of an anal retentive, but it's not bad either. I regularly discard what's not needed. I am somewhere between a houseproud person and a tiny bit messy, depending on the day and the time of day. Put it this way. My husband isn't complaining, unless I try to make steps to work on his study which is absolutely his 'den (of too much stuff)'.

So, these DD sites (well one in particular) was both a massive turn on for me and at the same, somewhat ridiculous, in my mind.

These husbands weren't into spanking as a turn on. Not. At. All. This was about training, discipline; results; outcomes. There was talk about a wife being ready to submit to her husband on a moment's whim, regardless of exhaustion and so on, but there was next to no talk about play, per se. This was business. This was the man taking his responsibility seriously, to guide his wayward wife in the right direction by ensuring she had all the necessary corporal discipline to train her to be the best wife.

I had a very brief exchange sort of lately with the hypnotist wherein he mentioned a self-discipline contract. I had to look this up and indeed it's a thing. You decide on your goal, commit to it in writing, sign it, and give yourself some consequences, if you err. He emphasized that he wasn't prescribing this for me and he definitely didn't want me self-punishing. Honestly, I just mulled the whole thing.

The DD blogs suggest to me at least, that a woman, a wife, needs her husband's guidance to ensure that she is suitably disciplined by him such that she is a good wife; that she is not capable of doing this for herself. They suggest that there is a right way to do things, and this right way is known by him, not her. But with the right guidance, he can teach her, instill a bit of fear of doing the wrong thing basically, and Bob's your Uncle, you've got the wife of your dreams.

There's some implication that women are addle headed, incompetent, lazy, that really irks me. I hope you got that long before I wrote that sentence. And I am not saying that this approach, done in a lighter way, wouldn't work with some women. The harshness written about there worked with the women commenting. They rarely complained in an overwhelming way. They had been 'trained' not to complain. If I get a spanking, the result is I feel softer. I don't complain either. There's a bit of mystery around this.

Having said that, I am at peace with a man saying to his wife, a wife that wants a power exchange with her man, 'I don't want you doing things this way, I want you to do them that way.' That way may just be his obsessive compulsive nature showing through, but nonetheless, if a woman wants that dynamic, I think it's perfectly all right to submit to his wants and desires. I say this assuming it is understood that the man and woman are equals (or whatever the make up of the couple), equally capable of running their own lives but don't necessarily want to.

I've been mulling the DD space and the D/s space, thinking about what makes it different and what makes it the same. In D/s and DD the man is expecting, demanding, respect, as in the D/s space, but in DD it feels to me that there is less respect for the woman/wife. In D/s you submit because you want to, because that arouses something deep in your core, your soul. You may have all the degrees, the big career, the prestige, the wealth, not to submit, and yet you do, because it just makes senses to your inner being and to your sexuality. Not once in all the dozens of comments I read by women on that site did even one talk about how aroused it all made her. Maybe she thought it was wrong to admit to it. I simply do not know.

In my own marriage, things were not going well at all at the same time as the hypnotist and I met one another, via his podcast. He assured me he could sort things out. It was sort of hit and miss for a time, but he was right. A lot came right, came back on line, once we both started treating one another respectfully and in a D/s sort of way.

How did that happen? Well, he cleared my husband of a lot of pent up negative emotions. He led me deeper into what we call my slave mentality. He got us having intense sex again. It wasn't DD doctrine but rather making both people responsible for the sexual dynamic. It was very much about me developing boundaries. I didn't see any evidence of the DD wives having boundaries. That's another difference I noted. In one case, a woman wrote in who was clearly being abused, and there was no suggestion for her to start creating boundaries about what she would not tolerate. There was no talk about being two independent people and creating interdependence; none that I could see.

I think too the hypnotist encouraged my husband to give me autonomy, to delegate if you like, tasks to me. This was a log jam for us that needed to be cleared. I am someone who needs to achieve progress. Hold me back and I am going to experience extreme frustration.

I am not here to say that spanking isn't effective, or can be effective, to achieve necessary changes. There's a certain necessary humility in a D/s power exchange that's part of the deal, and a spanking can achieve that humility. I know I feel more myself when I am bossed around, in whatever capacity. If you want to tap into that slave mindset that sits there, like an itch that needs to be scratched, spanking can do it.

But, on this DD website I was reading, it's such a go-to that it seems bordering on something else. I don't know. It just seemed...excessive...brainwashing, and not in a good way.

It's not entirely black and white here. The hypnotist, a long-time player in the M/s space believes passionately that there are far too many 'good guys' and he is not alone. He's not a punisher though, not these days, but rather doesn't reward. He's seen too many broken men to not want to encourage the masculinity of a man and the femininity of a woman.

I argue that submission is a wiring thing. You can bring it out in someone whose submission is latent or unexpressed, but I don't think you can make a woman who has no interest in a power dynamic suddenly become submissive. You can encourage mutual respect, respectful and useful communication models, ways of sorting through conflict. There has to be deep deep trust before you can go further into a marriage structure that encompasses a power exchange.

My fantasy world swims in an intense dynamic and my mind tries it all on; everything. There is a saying: 'Take the best and leave the rest'. I try on intensity; all these harsh spankings for not getting the laundry done, for example, and then I let the thought go. The hypnotist suggested that if I needed to feel the control more, I devise a nonsense rule that made it clear I wanted to feel the power, so to speak. It could be laundry, I guess. It could also be...hmmm...(I've had such trouble figuring something...) not making dinner. THAT would get his attention. I'm not sure I would use it more than once. Maybe not turning down the bed. It's a rule and he would notice if I stopped doing it. I think he'd realize I needed to feel it.

I truly like the idea of containment, of expectations, of feeling into myself in this way, but DD does not sound fun. It doesn't sound fluid, flirty or fun. It doesn't sound like it's loaded with pleasure (a word that I think is a loaded trigger...). By God, though, horses couldn't have dragged me away from reading there for quite a few days. 

Merry (kinky) Christmas

The shopping was done, the Christmas Eve dinner cooked and eaten when I decided to have a sneak peak at my emails before finalizing the wrapping of presents this evening. Lo and behold, what did I find but an email from my friend Abel Jenkins alerting to me the fact that I had won an award! I could not have been more surprised, nor more honored to read Abel's very generous and glowing remarks. Thank you, most sincerely, my friend. My writing here is very much a labor of love and I am thrilled you are enjoying it.

I know it is traditional at this time to wish readers a very Merry Christmas and I do, of course, hope that your day is filled with love and happiness. However, I can't resist also taking this opportunity to share how very possible it is to include kinkiness into a very busy festive season.

It has been a very hectic period of time for me. Like so many mothers, the bulk of the responsibility for a happy Christmas for family members falls on my shoulders and there does come a moment when Christmas can seem more work than joy. It's not that I don't enjoy Christmas, it's that mothers do eventually tire.

I had no more than a few minutes chat with a close friend this morning before I needed to head out to the nail salon for the first appointment of their busy day. A girl can go without much rest during stressful periods of time, but a girl can't go without her fortnightly trip to the nail salon. Let me assure of this.

My friend knows that I need to express my kinky side very regularly or else I tend to run down, so I shared with him, knowing that he would understand, that as I awoke I had some lovely contained thoughts to start my day - nothing severe, but contained in my thoughts was I, nonetheless.

"Relish in it," he replied, an acknowledgement from him, yet again, that the whole idea was to enjoy the expression of my true self.

This exchange isn't a one-way street by any means and I also wanted to remind him to relax and enjoy his kinky thoughts, a few moments of interlude in his busy work day. What would he like for Christmas, I asked. Hmmm, he wasn't sure.

"A dolly for the day? Someone to tend to his every need?" I suggested.

Oh yes, he thought that would be yummy. I could almost hear him already making plans.

I explained that I was off to the nail salon and he voiced his expectation that I would go plugged. The thought had occurred to me, actually. I know what soothes me and aids me in busy periods when I don't have much time to myself. However, I wasn't sure that I wanted to challenge myself too far. I voiced (typed) that sentiment and then he voiced (typed) his.

Of course, he was quite right. I need to be challenged. Challenge enables me to be my true, kinky self - to be aware of that side of me no matter what else I am doing. Challenges contains my submissive nature in a way that elevates my spirit and puts a smile on my face in the toughest Christmas shopping predicament.

To the world at large it looked like I was reveling in preparing for Christmas; peaceful and serene. To those here, there is more to the story, as you would know. Expressing my submissive side, even in this private way, enables me to revel in nearly all experiences. If I were wearing a sign it might say this.

"My name is Vesta and I am a woman with a submissive nature. To express my nature makes me blissfully happy. Right now, even though you can't see,  I'm being contained and challenged. I love every minute of it."

Have a very happy Christmas. Do be nice, but don't forget to be naughty.

Ditzy

The inner me wants to get down and dirty - to have some fun - but the sensible me says that it is waaaaaay overtime that I sat down for the whole day and got going on a major assignment. I've woken to do just that but am already distracted.

So, here's a cute pikki. I've had a bit of fun on tumblr and now it's time to do my work!

Restraint

Somewhere in my reading last week, I read of one woman who was told that she may not touch herself for a week. She was doing remarkably well when on the sixth day she succumbed and had a most pleasurable orgasm. Her thinking was along the lines of, "I need this today. I'll worry about the consequences tomorrow."

Well, first of all, I think being told not to touch yourself for a week is asking a great deal so I give her full credit for lasting six days! Delayed gratification is something I can find difficult, although I also find difficult the consequences too really. I'm not fond of people being very cross with me and on more than one occasion I've berated myself for not just doing as I was asked. However, I can certainly empathize with the thought process that six out of seven ain't bad.

I've been sleeping on my own for the past week and my sleep has been quite disrupted because there has been too much opportunity to let my hands stray. On one night I considered tying my wrists together so that I could get a good night's rest. Fortunately, my husband returned home last evening and whilst I woke up in a similar way in the early morning I mentally acknowledged the desire but also mentally told myself that it was a darn good thing that I couldn't succumb to my desires. I folded my hands together as in prayer, a testament to my resolve, and duly went back to sleep for a couple of well needed hours of sleep.

There's a big part of me that very much likes the idea of orgasm control. Chastity belts come up in my thoughts regularly and I love photographs of a woman restrained into a chastity belt. I read once that a Dominant kept his submissive in a chastity belt (apart from cleaning and so on) for a six month period and that was not a dreadful thought for me; not at all. I feed off such thoughts.

I like the challenge of seven days without touching myself. I can't imagine my mind thinking of a darn thing other than my own desire for pleasure. Perhaps the need fades as time goes on. I very much doubt this myself. On the seventh day, I can imagine myself counting down the minutes. Maybe I'd get on with writing assignments and put pleasure out of my mind, or, maybe I wouldn't be able to write a thing so muddle-headed with the desire for pleasure I couldn't think straight.

Of course, the fact that I've been told that I can't have or do something is a truly enticing notion. I'd like to think I've progressed enough where the verbal instruction would be enough and I could exhibit restraint. On one level, it would be absolute torture but on another, deeply arousing. It would be an extraordinary act of grace to have my hands tied at bedtime and just give me a hand (by taking away my hands) but I do understand the idea is to use one's mind alone to show resolve sometimes.

When the woman in question told her Dominant of her transgression the whole time period started all over again. It lasted until they saw one another again which, I think, made it even a bit longer than seven days and I think she was starting to wonder if her life was truly worth living if orgasms were to be spaced out in this way. I so get that. On the other hand, what was he do? Well, I think he removed his Dominance from her, as I recall, and that's when the penny dropped. (Oh my, do I get this part...) She suddenly realized that delayed gratification was much, much easier than the removal of his services and I think it is this knowledge that allows her to move forward into this new time period of no touching.

I'm in a particularly desirous mindset; a desire to prove my mettle and to enjoy succeeding. I'm keen to get back in the hunt, out with pack and on with the game. I'm feeling decidedly playful and ready for challenge and I truly do think that I might be able to follow such a command, should be it ordered. I do little tests on myself, actually and I tell myself I can't do this or that for a couple of days and see what happens. Well, I can follow my own instructions with some degree of success but then again, I've never said to myself, "This time it is seven days" because I just couldn't do that to myself.

Being silly

I shall read to you in bed
You shall snuggle me instead
I shall feed you chicken curry
You must promise not to hurry
Along to your study
Or, to be a fuddy duddy.

Why do you look at me so aghast?
You know your annoyance can't last
 I drive you up a tree?
You can't be speaking of me?
You're counting: one, two, three...
Oh darlin', I do love thee.
 

Plumbing equipment

Saturday morning. I've been alone in the house for a few hours. I've had my porridge and tea in bed. I've done a bit of laundry...put on the dishwasher. But, honestly, that's all that I have done that is productive. I've been mucking around reading smut and a few literary worthy articles on the Internet, having a gay old time really. The phone rings.

"What are you doing, girl?"

"I'm doing laundry."

"Are you doing your work?"

"Well, I've been sorting out the house so far..."

"You know we'll be out all day tomorrow. You need to settle down and do your work."

"Yes. I'll get onto it very soon. Where are you?"

"I'm out in ......... looking for a special plug.

My mind is foggy. Then,

"Ohhhhh, that sort of plumbing. I couldn't figure out what plumbing needs we had."

He chuckles.

"Your plumbing, girl. But, I'm not hanging around here. Nobody has come to open the shop. Probably some silly girl is still tied up and can't get here to open up."

"Yes, right. Well, your plumbing needs are one click one away, actually. These days, people order their plumbing needs from the Internet."

"Do they? And how do they know they have the right measurements?"

"They read the little blurb that tells them."

"Right. Well, I'll be home soon. You better be sitting at your desk when I arrive."

"Definitely."

So here I am, having my last little bit of fun for the morning before I get right onto that film review.  Perhaps, there is a kinky film I could review. Any ideas are most welcome. Seen anything you like?

Cheap as Chips

Like many people, the start of the weekend provides an opportunity for us to play. For the meantime, there is no getting up early to watch a darling boy play soccer and there is time to luxuriate in bed all morning, if we choose to do so.

"What do you feel like?" my husband asked.

"I don't know," I replied, as animated as a one of those soldiers that stand outside Buckingham Palace on parade.

Of course, he anticipated that. It is a rare day when I can instigate anything. I wait for something to happen, like a damsel in distress.

Just as I was close to giving up on him taking a stand, he grabbed a handful of my hair that strongly encouraged me to move my body on the bed sideways. He let go long enough to stand right in front of my face and with words that assured me there was no negotiation to be had he told me to open my mouth around his cock. Needless to say, I did that. A quick glance told me that he had taken the folded up rope he had made previously. He thought it quite clever of him at the time to create an implement with the rope and this is what he had in his hand.

"It's been a while since you've had a flogging," he said as he whipped the strands of rope on my cheeks, "And, don't let go. You just keep sucking away while I whip you."

I loved this. The scene has strong remnants of one of my all time favourite pikkis and I realized that my hunch had been right. The blows on the backside encouraged a girl to keep sucking and not let go...until one particularly vicious whack had me let go enough to emit a loud noise. Even so, it was just an instant and my mouth searched for the relief of his cock on which to suck again. In my fantasies about this pikki I have often imagined the man telling her the dire consequences should she let go for the briefest moments. I actually remembered that yesterday and realizing that I had let go, immediately began to suck again, fearful of what may befall me (which speaks to the powers of my imagination since my husband was too busy enjoying turning my bottom other colours to comment, if he noticed).

"Are you going to do as you're told. Are you going to suck my cock every morning when you wake, even if I am still asleep?"

"Bwwess," I muttered through the (cock) gag.

"Are you? Are you sure?" he asked again as he brought the rope down again.

"Bwwweeess, bwwwwwwessssssss"

When all was done, when he had his way with me (don't you love that expression!?) he asked me if I would like to go back to sleep. I nodded. "And, would you like something in that mouthcunt? A cocki gag? A ball gag?" "A cocki gag, please." "Very well."

He put the gag in, pulled the covers up and off I drifted into the soundest of sleeps. Apparently, he made me porridge but said he didn't have the heart to wake me to eat it, so content did I seem in my slumber.

Eventually, I awoke and not too much later he returned to me. "Would the girl like to be released?" I nodded yes but could have happily lay there all day. It felt a bit odd to have the gag removed from my mouth but life did call to be lived, I suppose.

This morning, as soon as I awoke my mind returned to the scene and I immediately did my duty.

"Ohhhhh," he said, pleasantly surprised.

And, later as I lay on his chest, hands under my chin, "A flogging does you so much good, doesn't it?"

"Yes...yes, it does," I agreed, smirking.

That's all it does take to make me happy, actually. I'm rather cheap.

And while I am on a roll...

I've just finished the first subject of the writing course; as in, just posted my last module and responded to other responses from classmates. One of the gals noted that Bart and I seemed made for one another - had moved onto the next stage of writing, which is to use one another to make editorial changes; to respectfully convince one another that the other needs to make changes/improvements.   I responded that I had set my sights on Bart from the get go. Okay, Bart was the only male, but that is not the only reason. Bart is irreverent. Bart loves to tell jokes and most important of all, Bart likes to laugh and have FUN!

Having fun in a D/s relationship is probably the most important thing of all. Having fun in LIFE is probably the most important thing of all. It is why I watch the 'Big Bang Theory' most nights with my boys; because Sheldon makes me laugh.

cindi can be really silli; dumdum; an airhead. But, cindi has a blast. cindi has lots and lots of fun; giggling away madly...yes, sometimes even at her own jokes. She is ditzi. She can't even spell! But, here's the thing: She doesn't care.

Sure, sometimes a D/s relationship  is all business; sometimes things are serious. But, laughing is very good therapy for the soul. Try it. You'll see what I mean. Well, Bart gets it...

On being a girl

It is so lovely being a girl. I can't begin to imagine what life woud be like were I not a girl. Poor old boys don't have nearly half the fun. This morning, I woke on fire. Does that happen to boys? Well, it does to me frequently. I lay there imagining the most strict of discplinarians in my life, providing me with intense limits and once I had done that I was ready to greet the day.

It turned out to be a glorious morning. The birds were chirping away in merriment (there is very little bird life in Italty. I have no idea why...) and the sun was mild but warm creating the perfect light. And, I didn't feel jet lagged any more and when I looked in the mirror my face had lost that tired look. Why, I looked pretty good - skin glowing, eyes clear and bright. Yayayayay.

I thought about my day. It was...Tuesday. Maybe my husband and I would go to the market...maybe not...but I did have meditation class at 1.00 o'clock and I looked forward to getting back to that. Surprisingly, my concern about the work I had to do imminently had passed. I would certainly need to get it done and get it done in a timely way but it was do-able, I decided.

I thought about what to wear, and remembering that the weather forecast was for a warm 25 celcius degree day, I thought about what sort of summer outfit I wanted to wear. I remembered the dress I had bought in Venice.

We had been gliding along the narrow laneways on our way to San Marco from Dossidoro, my husband was on the phone and we walked past a small boutique with a navy blue linen dress on the mannequin at the door. The shop keeper had pinned a sign to the dress stating that it was reduced from 143 euros to 50 euros. I am not a hunter but I am a gatherer and I tapped my husband on the shoulder to say that I was going in. He followed me in but was standing in a separate part of the store to make his call.

Without a common language I pointed to the dress, the shopkeeper took it off the mannequin, pointed to the change room and I tried it on. It was a perfect fit I discovered when I came out to the mirror and I walked to my husband and asked in his ear, "Do you like this?". He nodded and within another minute I had handed over 50 euros and we were on our way. (I don't really like carrying money when I am with my husband, not wishing to make my own purchases, but a girl knows a bargain when she sees one. Trust me. She is born with this skill.)

When we got home from our trip I hand washed the dress and ironed it up (It is a very soft linen. It does crease but in a very soft way; quite unlike the sort of linen dress I have had before which put me off linen as a fabric.) and this morning when I put it on I was delighted with it. It actually has a French (tres jolie) feel to me; very feminine and very Spring and it made me feel very feminine and happy.

That prompted me to get out a more chunky set of pearls than I usually wear day to day and that again prompted me to put on a full apron that an old lady friend had made for me many years ago and which I keep to remember her.  It is decorated with a little lace on the sides and I felt very homely in it; very 1950s. It made me smile.

That prompted me to make blueberry pancakes and that made my son very happy. Suddenly, all the world looked and smelled and tasted great. Huuuummmm. Right here, right now, all is well in my world...

Do men have these lovely moments when the world feels so right....when your outfit makes you sing, and you feel prompted to do nice things for the people in your life? Do you think of a shirt you bought when you travelled and it conjurs up all sorts of romantic notions? Do you feel happy just because you woke up feeling alive and manly and vibrant? Or, is that why you have us around?

Notz frum holidey

cindi habbin fun tym trabelin rown. She bin 2 Hyde Park n she bin owt 2 Windsor Castle. She ebin wen 2 da Evensong at St. George's Chapel where she sit rite next 2 da boyz in da choir. Dat lotsa fun 4 cindi!

It a beri gud ting dat onnir approoovz ob dortaz boyfrend. He def got da seel appproooovel. Phew! So, cindi n onnir hab sum beri nys meeelz wif dem.

It seemz dat onnir tink dat cindi bit fysti l8li n so dis mornin he sed dat cindi needd sum treetmin. She hab ull da hoz filld n onnir fors her hab lotsa lotsa orgazmz until she beggin, "Pleeeeez, pleeeeez, dat nuf!" But, onnir tinki dat cindi needz unnerstan dat she nut da wun in charj n dat she jus objekt hoo neeedz akept wut she gibben. Dat wat he sed.

Ob ull da tingz onnir pak in his sootcase da oddist ting dat he pak da woodin herbrush n he yoos dat on cindi. "No cumplaynin, cindi," he sey.

Neweyz, tinki dat dis ull beri gud 4 cindi ashooooli. She feelz beri settld n in her ownd plays, n dat alweyz a gud ting. No mattr how far from home, toyz alweyz toyz, rite?

New toyz

Wut a week 4 cindi! No soonr did her magik wand arrive (n she hab so much fun wif dat!) dan her onnir desyd 2 reeeeli cuntayn cindi dis mornin. She kenna c ne tin n she kenna say n e tin et ull. Onnir hab her get on2 her 4z n suddenli cindi ken feel dat der a brand new speriens 4 her.

Cindi nut no wut happenin reeeeli. She gotsa ideuh but she nut c dat new toy n she ken only gess. But wuteva dat toy it gibbin cindi da most AMAZIN sens8nz n she in nudder plays n tym.

If cindi hab eni ideuh – ENI IDEUH ET ULL – dat dat toy SO GUD she wood hab orderd wun in eberi cullir lung tym go.

Cindi strungli recummndz dat ull da bimboz hab at leeest wun deeez. Tym 2 own up now! Eni bimboz owt der??!!

Question time

It appears that it is "Question Month". I've not officially been told of this but several bloggers have alluded to the fact that March is the month when you can ask questions of bloggers. If, per chance, you have a desire to ask me a question, please do so and I will give you a considered response.

It is a funny thing. When reading posts of other bloggers I often wonder about them - what they look like, what they look like in their house or apartment, how they interact with others as they go about their life - but none of these matters really take the form of a question. I don't think I can ask them such questions and expect a response, given our anonymous state. My questions relate to my inner curiosity about what makes them tick, what turns them on, what sort of life they lead; basically, who they are.

And, when they say in a post that they were spanked, I want to know in my mind's eye what the position was, how it came to be that, whether she looked in the mirror for any marks later. I want to know what sort of a bed they have and the colour of the sheets; if the weather outside is freezing or if they are looking onto tropical plants. I want to know how he kisses her and how she responds when he pulls her ponytail. I want the whole picture. I guess you could say, I want the details but I rather doubt that any of you are prepared to give them to me.

So, I completely understand if no-one can form a single question for me because I am not at all sure that I can form a single question for you that you'd be prepared to answer.

Nonetheless, the offer stands.

P.S. Here is a giveaway. My sheets are always white. It is a 'thing' I have.

Happy holiday

The festive season is well underway and in a few days, it will be Christmas. This is my last opportunity to wish all readers, whatever your faith, a very happy holiday.

May it be filled with fun and good cheer. Stay safe and well, spread the joy and have a very happy, blessed holiday.

State of mind

Dolliz luv the color 'pink! They luv pink nailpolish n pink lipstick, n pink blush, n pink clothes. The color 'pink' maki dem feel so happi, n girlie, n bubbli.

Sumtimes, dolliz ken feel so happi in der heart dat no matta wot the werld looki liki, all dey c is pink. It so pretti from da dolliz poynt of voo.

So, herez a littel glimpse in2 da head of a real live dolli in her happi plays wen her werld is simply...pink!

Njoy!

What's it all about, Alfie?

Last night, my husband was cross with me. He had come to bed and once he does that he expects me to turn my lap top off right away. If he’s busy in his study, I can type away on the lap top until I knock myself out. He knows that I know when I should settle down for the night to get adequate sleep but he’s not inclined to set bedtimes or micromanage me in this way. And, if I complain the next day about being tired, he’ll remind me as to why I am tired and assure me that I’ll get no sympathy from him.

But, if he comes to bed, then he has no interest in my preoccupations and thus when I did not put away my favourite toy immediately I got ‘the rounds of the kitchen’. And, rightly so!

I tried cuddling into him but he said he was “too hot” and I tried opening up an erotic conversation but he said he didn’t want to talk about that right now.

“Goodnight,” he said with an air of finality.

“Goodnight,” I replied with an air of resignation.

Back in the doghouse again...

In the morning, upon waking I felt him reach for me and, of course, that is my cue to cuddle into him. I lay there, relieved that he wanted to cuddle, and I said, in a little girl voice,

“I’m sorry.”

“That is all I wanted to hear,” he said. “You know what is right.”

And, I do. I do know what is right. But, before we transformed our relationship into a power exchange relationship I did have a great deal of difficulty with those three little words.

I am sorry.

You see, so often when my husband was angry with me, he would raise his voice. The focus would shift from my wrongdoing to his behaviour when telling me off. My "sensibilities" were offended that he was telling me off like an irate schoolmaster and in this state, apologizing was virtually impossible for me. Letting it go was impossible for him. Our stand offs could last for a long time!

It may seem a little thing to you, but my willingness to acknowledge my wrongdoing, accept my scolding, and to offer my apology immediately is a big step for me. For my husband, it is one of the great blessings of our power exchange relationship.

The issuing of punishments is not really his thing. I imagine many a dominant man out there would suggest that the removal of the lap top for a week might have me thinking twice before being tardy about turning it off again. But, acknowledgement of the error is what was important to him.

And, in any case, he knows full well that a good old-fashioned scolding is far worse to me than any punishment he could dish out. It is a rare day when he delivers a punishment – the cane or the removal of a privilege, for example. His words of disapproval, his dismissal of me, banishment occasionally, are perfectly adequate for him to make his point. And my words of apology are nearly always enough for him as recompense of the error.

Now, don’t let me lead you astray. He loves to threaten me.

“By God, you are overdue for the cane, little girl!”

“Why don’t you repeat that? Repeat that, and see what happens!!”

“Where is that paddle? What have you done with it? When I find it I’m going to enjoy turning your ass red!”

“Did you touch yourself today, cindi? Did you???”

I’m corrected quite routinely.

“Beating your ass gives me such a bar” is one of those remarks of his that always make me smile.

There are many faces to this dynamic of ours. Love, harmony, connection, fun and pleasure is a huge part of what it is about for us.

Living the dream

Today is the day when a very special friend of mine is having a very special day, so it is important to me that on my blog (which she will read!) all the serious topics are put aside for this day. My dear friend has taught me so much about submission. She has never once judged me, even though I feel sure she has had her doubts. She has kept an eye on me, worries about me and gently encourages me to do better; try harder; be stronger. I am the richer for knowing her and one of these days, before the year is out, we’ll be very naughty together and drink wine and shop til we drop, and more. Can’t wait!!

She tells me that I have taught her something, too. That’s a nice thing to say because she’s been a submissive much longer than me. She tells me that I taught her to have fun! Of course, like the bright girl that she is, she has turned my words on me several times over now and reminded me that without fun, submission is missing a vital ingredient. And, so it is.

As in so many aspects of BDSM, the word ‘play’ has an alternative meaning. We tell our children to “play nice” but in our sort of ‘play’ we rather enjoy being grabbed, pulled, bent and bruised. We experience an elevation of spirits that is a mutual gift of one to the other. Our hearts and our spirits soar and we feel for a brief time that we can walk on water. Play as a child was never this much fun!

My friend takes her submission seriously. This is not something she does but something she is. It is how she expresses who she is. Yet, really, she plays all day long; day in and day out. Say what she will in the heat of the moment (Yes, we girls do vent!!) she adores being a submissive girl: from the dress code, to the play sessions when she orgasms so powerfully, to the restrictions of her life which are many, to the deep love she feels for Master. Whether she is making a lasagne (for him, of course), or packing his bag and locating his keys, or bringing up their children so well, she is living the dream. ‘Living the dream’ is a little joke of ours, but you can be certain of this: she would not have it any other way.

So, darling girl, let me raise my glass to you and wish you the happiest of birthdays and many, many more happy birthdays to come.

And to Master: You have the most magnificent slave a man could ever wish to have. We slaves and bimbos don’t need much; just buckets and buckets of love. Do you think you can wrap that? Look after my girl well, wont you?!

Have fun, sweetheart!! Happy Birthday!!

P.S. Cindi sends her love and birthday greetings, too!

Did I put those restraints away?

As I ate my lunch today I clicked onto the link to 'Remittance Girl' found under my links in 'my blog list' and read her story posted there entitled 'Real Women'. I've been following RG for some time and must say, she just keeps getting better at creating such authentic characters and such hot scenes.

I really don't want to spoil the surprise. Just do yourself a favour and read this story. To the submissives I say, don't try this at home. To the dominants I say, beware! And the moral of the story is twofold: keep your promises to your women and learn how to ask for what you want effectively. Which moral applies to you is for you to decide! Ha! Ha!

Happy reading!

Fiery girls

One of the most enjoyable aspects of having children, in my opinion, is that parents gets to watch their personalities unfold. Since my eldest child is grown and living elsewhere, I thought I knew all there was to know about him. I discovered last night that there is always a little more...

His last minute call to say that his plans had changed and could he come over worked out perfectly. I was just beginning a huge fried rice for the other boys who are in study mode. Together, we shared a massive platter of the dish, together with a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir.

When the younger boys left and it was just my husband, myself and my son, the conversation moved onto food and restaurants, as it so inevitably does. This is a city famous for its dining and consumption of wine. He told us of a new restaurant in a street we know well and how authentically Italian it is.

"You'll love it, Mum. It is so romantic...perfect for you and Dad."

And, finally, he mentioned the gal that he has been seeing. We know her name via his sister, who gets more information that we do, but very little else.

"I took (my girlfriend) there and she loved it."

Here was my big opportunity.

"Sooooo, she's Italian...?"

"No, she is Greek."

"Ahhh..."

"And, boy, is she fiery!!! I was making her pizza last weekend and she slapped me across the face twice before I had even served it!"

"Oh boy! You must have said something to work her up, I think."

"Well, probably. I think I like to do that. I love to see their reactions."

"Darling, talk about out of the fat and into the fire..."

(I was referring to his previous girlfriend.)

"Yeah. I know. It's weird ."

"But, you've always done that, darling. Always liked to get something happening if it is too calm."

"Yeah...at the restaurant...I took her there for breakfast...and she stood up and had a go at the waiter because the meal was slow coming out! She's crazy! I had to tell the poor guy it was all right."

He's smiling broadly. He is animated. He looks happy.

"Well, you know we girls have to eat regularly..."

"I know!!!! Well, I think I like fiery girls. I'd be bored otherwise."

And, there it was. Finally, an acknowledgement of who he is; what he wants.

My son has been witness to the tempestuous relationship of his parents all his life. He has watched his Dad niggle his Mum on purpose, forever. Will she react? Will he have to go into his bag of tricks for more? His Mum ignores many of the gibes, but sometimes, when it is least expected, she bites back enough for the Dad to take notice. The smile on his face suggests that he has enjoyed that. Like two little kids in the school yard. And, so it goes. The games that men and women play.

I know you will yawn if I tell you again how proud I am of him. My God, but he is handsome now! But, I so delight at thinking of the lovely times he has ahead of him. And, this girl will be good for him.

On being strict

I have noticed myself using the word "strict" now and then. I called one post a few months ago, 'Strict Masters' and lately I told my counselling friend that he was "strict". He seemed to be a bit taken aback by that. Or, he enjoyed being called strict: one or the other.

"How am I strict?" he wanted to know.

As usual, I needed to think carefully and provide a precise answer. You know these dominant types! A girl has to back up what she says. One statement only leads to the next. Love that!

So this evening, for a bit of fun (what can I say!?) I looked up the definition of 'strict'.

Precise; exact: a strict definition.
Complete; absolute: strict loyalty.
Kept within narrowly specific limits: a strict application of a law.
Rigorous in the imposition of discipline: a strict parent.
Exacting in enforcement, observance, or requirement: strict standards.
Conforming completely to established rule, principle, or condition: a strict vegetarian.
Botany. Stiff, narrow, and upright.

Well, look at that! Ring any bells for anyone? Is there a word more apropos D/s?

I confess I got a giggle out of the botany definition - stiff, narrow and upright. Any doms out there who can identity with being stiff, narrow and upright?

Let's dance

So, I sat down to talk about scars since that's been the order of the day lately around these parts. We've all got scars, and I thought I'd put in my two cents worth. But, how can I talk about that when Diane Warwick is singing in the background?

"I never been loved before
And then came you
You, you, you, you, you."

I go to write something serious and I find myself up and dancing. It just won't work today.

"All you got to do is hug him and kiss him and show him that you care...
Do the things that he likes to do.
Wear your hair just for him...
Just do it, and after you do, he will be yours.

So, combine the onset of Spring with such pleasurable music and it has to be a pretty 'airhead' sort of a post today, I'm sorry.

But, I dink dat's okay. 'Coz this bimbo lik not to dinki sumtimes. She liki jus to hav fun. Bimbo barbi dolls r lik dat! Dey put on twirly dolli dresses and dey dance aroun the kitchn to the 80s muzic. Wheeeee! Dat so fun!

So, gurlz, no mor rage tawk for now. Dat okay? Put on yr dancin shooz and danz to the muzac and sooooon, you b feelin reeel fin.

Got that?

Yeah.

Hav fun. Dinki happi thorts.

Night night.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!