Trapdoor

I like to think that people can't see into me. As a schoolgirl I worried that people might have some way of seeing into my thoughts but as an adult I've worked on the basis that if I held up a very good veneer there was no way they could know what I was really thinking. I have come to realize that I haven't fooled all of the people. I've left little hints along the way, I think, less and less prepared to hide in real life all the aspects of me that I've shared in this journal. I've allowed them glimpses of me in all my complexity.

There were only two of us left at the table when a friend needed to share an aspect of her life. I listened. I'm pretty good at listening and people know that about me. Somehow in the process of telling me her little problem she turned the spotlight onto me.

"I've thought several times that you're looking for something. There are little things over time that you've said and it makes me feel that you are on some sort of journey and you are looking for something."

I smiled. I contemplated how much to say and deemed it dangerous territory.

"Yes, I am on a journey. I am looking for something," I said. Then, I allowed the silence to sit there between us.

"Well, I hope you find it," she replied.

"Thank you," I said.

She's a polite woman and knowing she'd gone as far as she could possibly go on this day the conversation reverted to another topic without a beat missed.

Of course, I know enough to be able to say here that I'm not on a journey really; that the peace and joy I seek in my life is already there within me. That's the philosophy and I try to embrace it. I really do. It's quite exhausting to always been in journey mode; to always have a pack on your back and to have to traverse one more mountain before resting for the day.

For whatever reason, I'm looking for the trapdoor. I'm looking for other station platforms. I'm not a Harry Potter fan but the very first movie thrilled me. To think that there was a secret level at the train station that no-one knew about except the Hogwarts' students. How brilliant a thought is that!? To think that you can walk into a cupboard and enter another world like the children in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is captivating to me.

Some days I wonder if I am less interested in a serious power exchange relationship and more interested in being transported to a magical place. It's no co-incidence, I think, that I took to a new bimbo language like a duck to water, or that I totally embrace losing my mind and thinking like an object.

When I first met my husband he was a young man with a vision for his life. He was going places in every way and it seemed like it would be a very exciting ride. I knew myself well enough even back then to know that without a guide I might not go places. But, with someone assuring me that I was safe, there would be nothing to hold me back.

These days, I am more curious than I have ever been in my life. I've that writer's interest in 'the story' now and I want people to feed me with their tales; their thoughts, their disappointments and hopes. I want to know it all. I want to make sense of it in some ways through my own writing. Stories teach us, heal us and encourage us to live life to the full; to know more about our selves.

In a very vital and enduring way, I haven't changed at all. At heart I am still a very little girl, wanting to be shown the trapdoor; the way into a world of wonder and enchantment.  I have been very fortunate in my life to have the 'little girl' embraced; for men to see that I may adore slutty sex but in the mix is a little girl, willing to be led, to be scolded and chastised. Within my heart and my mind the little girl endures full of faith and trust; willing to do as told, blithely led to places she has never been before; a little scared at times but completely certain she doesn't want to miss the ride; a good girl but prepared to take a risk to experience the wonders of what lies beneath the trap door.

I am very lucky to say that I've been shown what lies beneath the trap door enough times to say that it is heavenly down there; that the Dark Lord may be scary but that the fear invigorates the little girl; entices her; thrills her to the core. The journey into her own desires is one she would not miss for all the tea in China. And, that's what I can't tell my friend. It must remain our secret.

Obedience (2)

It should not have been a rough day today. Technically, it should have been a very good day. After weeks of disconnection and upset (at least on my side) my mentor (for want of a better word) and I had reconnected, so to speak. To put it simply, he'd been hurt by my lack of obedience in London and felt that he didn't want to engage. My husband does a similar thing if he is sufficiently unhappy with me and I imagine they both have similar things in mind. I imagine that they are sufficiently disappointed and irritated and just hurt and upset by me to feel that I am the last person they want to engage with. I just seem to illicit that sort of response every now and again. I refer you to my Obedience post to help explain what I mean.

Thank the Lord, it doesn't happen often. If they are rattled by me, I can assure you I am even more rattled by them. "I'm not happy with you," my husband will bark at me every blue moon and he says it in such a way as to put the fear of God in me. Not physical fear because even if he decided that a sore bottom is what I need, I wouldn't fear that so much. The fear I refer to is the fear of rejection; of having illicited this sort of response in him. He can raise his voice any day of the week, passionate soul that he is, but when he reaches that very deep and angry voice with me, I do fear that I have pushed him into a zone where I hate to see him go.

In this case, with the mentor and me, he ultimately issued a punishment/assignment (depending on how you see these things). cindi wrote every day for a week but at the end of the week, it was clear he wasn't satisfied. (He might refute this. I am giving my interpretation of events here). I think he just wasn't satisfied that the week of denial of using my plugs had had a sufficient effect on me. I seemed "just fine".

I may have been defensive about that. I may have been a bit strident in my responses.If he wanted to experience me as a complete wreck he was welcome, I thought, but he wouldn't exactly like it once he actually got it! He didn't complain about the exchange per se but I am willing to concede that I was none too humble and he wasn't really satisfied with me all round. Privately, I was angry with myself that I managed to keep myself in trouble.

When I went to bed (and here it is best to know I have a wicked cold) I felt miserable and whilst I got a little sleep, it was intermittent and disturbed. I just felt that this discipline/lesson was going on a bloody long time and I wanted it to end. Now, I know full well that I don't have the right to want any such thing, but surely it is human to want to be returned to grace, and that's what I wanted. As it stood, it was another day without permission to plug and another day in disfavor. I so hate that.

Ultimately, my discomfort in all capacities led me to the kitchen to take 2 panadol and a glass of water. I sat down at my desk and whilst I had promised myself not to, I entered my google password and offered my usual introductory greeting to my mentor. When I am feeling upset, I so need to talk! Before I knew what I was doing I was weeping and telling him that this was all too hard; that I was too soft for the likes of him. He sent me back to bed; told me to get some rest; that this conversation could wait another day and fortunately I had enough sense to do that much.

But the long time in Coventry (longer than i have been in Coventry ever before) was unravelling me and by last night I was what I refer to as "dim" - lacking all abilities to save myself. Fortunately, he was of the frame of mind to save me instead but not without a grave warning. He needed me to understand one, simple message. He was the boss and not me and if I felt differently then it was time to go our separate ways.

I gave myself a moment or two, but no more to register the enormity of the message before I sent my acknowledgment that I understood and agreed with that. For several minutes neither of us said another word until I asked if may go to sleep and we said our goodbyes.I had been put in my place and where I wanted to be now was alone.

My ego is still strong; still shining bright and my ego needed to lick its wounds and bunker down in bed. It was very uncomfortable and unnerving to feel that way but dare I say, strangely erotic and arousing. It is moments like this when I realize just how perverted I am!

I have written these words in bursts. Not so long ago I took hot food to my son at school since he will rehearse in a play now for several hours this evening and for some reason as I saw the children at the school my mind returned to a day in my early childhood.

We were perhaps 8 years old and forbidden from playing games in the little cottage where we changed for sport, but we did it anyway. On this particular day, a Mistress caught us at it and she told the girls off in a certain area of the room. She was sending them to face the wall and I hated the sound of that.

I could see an opportunity. Goody goodies are almost always believed and since I was one of those and rarely ever misbehaved if at all, I approached the Mistress and said that I had simply been washing my hands. Did I need to do that too? "No, dear, of course not," came the reply. It was just assumed that I would never disobey rules and so I used that to get away with the odd naughty thing.

Now, I tell this story against myself (probably quite stupidly) because I am willing to admit (to myself too) that there is a pattern here. Most of the time I am good. One or two percent of the time I am bad, but it has always seemed to me that if I am good most of the time, surely those percentages are awfully good! So what if I manage to get away with the odd bad thing!?

I think this thought has really held me back in terms of this lifestyle. I did think I would get away without getting my nails done to the longer length. I did think that I could agree to things in London knowing that it would be difficult if not impossible to comply. Instead of discussing those issues, I did choose for myself.

And, as I think about other times in my life, although I was a committed Personal Assistant I did do the odd disobedient thing just like this. I would promise to mail letters on the Friday night only to rush out on a Sunday afternoon to get the task done. It was another case of deciding for myself what was important in the same way that directives from my husband not to touch myself have been disobeyed. It seemed such a little thing at the time and I couldn't see the harm. It is that 'little girl' tendency to get away with the odd trick or disobedient behaviour or choosing for myself that I haven't been entirely able to let go.

My boss was sweet but when challenged, tough.My husband is sweet but when challenged, tough. My mentor is sweet but when challenged, tough. Are you seeing a pattern here? Meanwhile, I dance around them thinking it my right to be forgiven quickly, when they have felt that they aren't inclined to do that over and over again, even if I am good most of the time.

It has been a hard, hard lesson, this 'obedience' thing. In the back of my mind at times is this thought that I can get away with the odd naughty thing whilst the dominant types that I associate(d) with have all felt that such behaviour is completely unsatisfactory even once, let alone repeatedly.

Of course, I knew this down to my boots a long time ago. I remember my boss's wife threatening to do something her own way one time and I remember him saying to me, "If she goes ahead, she won't get my blessing". I remember him being utterly ticked off about it. If she had gone about it in another way she would have got what she wanted and his blessing and that was the lesson I learned this week. If I had got what I now know to be "prior approval" I could have avoided this whole fiasco.

A lot of learning went on this week over here. Most important of all, I believe, was the importance of communication: of explaining the situation and asking for a variation if that is what is needed. All too often in life, I have tried to keep everybody happy only to lose the plot when I can't actually do it all. I have to learn to be honest and explain my limitations and constraints and explain when I can't do what is expected of me.

I am growing; growing all the time and that's why I am still here. When I hit a limit - feel the sting of disapproval, of correction and discipline, of being brought down to size - I want to run and hide and lick my wounds. But, the desire to grow; the understanding that this is oh so good for me brings me back from that dark corner to leap over that limit and get back into the line.

"I am afraid of making another mistake," I said to him last night and it is true. Being called to task is something I avoid like the plague but it seems unlikely that I won't ever make a blue again. It is the law of averages, I think.It is what troubles me the most - that I could fall from my perch again. I'm sure there are still lessons to learn about that but right now I just want to focus on being good and putting such thoughts well back in my mind.

The afternoon has ended well. I feel strong and much better for having written this all out. Isn't it the oddest thing that being put in your place can feel so darn uplifting! I think that might be the litmus test right there. There is no doubting that my nature, although a tad feisty, is truly submissive.

When I was a little girl

For weeks now, I've had this persistent phrase go through my head: 'When I was a little girl...', and then it stops. I realize that I don't know what to say next, and I put the thought aside for another day.

It occurred to me today to sit down and try to finish the sentence...

When I was a little girl, I felt a little bit misplaced in my family. There is no doubt that I looked like I belonged in the family, but when I was quite young, I really did wonder, quite seriously, if a mistake might have been made. My family were a fairly gregarious lot of people, whilst I was, not exactly shy, but private.

Whilst the other members of my family were not all that interested in formal learning, I rather enjoyed it. I was a reader, a researcher, a piano player, a dancer. Owing to my childhood circumstances, I had a very deep yearning for privacy which has followed me through my life. I adore to be in the country, and when I am there completely alone, or even better when I am there completely alone with my husband, I feel most content.

When I was a little girl I read lots of literature. Of all the stories I read, I adored 'Jane Eyre'. In spite of my fetish for spanking, I hated it when they mistreated the little girls at the charity school and my heart broke for Jane and her little friend, Helen. Yet, the ending was heaven for me. Mr. Rochester, firm but kind, much older but hopelessly smitten by Jane, acknowledges his feelings for the girl. It is completely satisfying; not overdone, but simply an acknowledgement of his feelings for her; at last. It is not at all impossible that the story remained close to my heart and in my psyche all my life.

So, when I was a little girl, I was an impressionable child; a romantic, with a longing for things that spoke to me. I loved the perfect piece of material for a dress, or a sense of satisfaction with a dance well done, or an essay well written.

When I was a little girl I felt insecure. People here and there would tell me I was pretty but it wasn't really until a man said, "I want you" that I truly believed it. I didn't so much ever want to be pretty as I wanted to be ravished.

When I was a little girl I longed for the day when I could have a home of my own; a family of my own. One day at the races, perhaps I was in my late teens, I heard a man of about 30 say, "Allow me to introduce my wife..." How wonderful, I thought; to be "a wife"!

When I was a little girl, I was a scaredy cat. It was my husband who took me to other countries and introduced me to the pleasures of new customs, new foods and new experiences. And, look at me now: biting at the bit for new adventures!

When I was a little girl I thought the boogie man would come and catch me, and I hid under the covers, convinced that if he couldn't see me, I'd be safe.

When I was a little girl, I was mother to my brother. He's forgotten now, but I read to him every night and frightened of the boogie man himself, he often slept with me in my bed.

When I was a little girl, I was like a piece of putty; just waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to come along and make me as he wanted me to be. A little girl to the core, I needed a boy to complete me.

Once I was a little girl, but I never really fully grew up. To this day, my husband calls me "LG"! And, so it shall always be.