The hypnotist

 It's quite the task to try to describe in an online journal post the changes that have occurred in the past few weeks. All I can do is try.

I have undergone hypnosis. The first two sessions were foundational sessions where we worked on issues related to my childhood and the repercussions of things that didn't happen back then (as opposed to things that did happen).

I will try to put it as simply as I can. There was a 'part' of me that was left behind in my childhood, fragmented, not assimilated into my sense of Self. By the end of the first session, this had been completely healed. Three hours later, I was a new, much happier, lighter person. I can't begin to describe to you in words the relief I felt to have this monkey off my back.

We worked on my ability to say NO when I needed to, to love myself as much as I love others. Many things. It was a reworking of my belief systems. 

In the second session, it was about the inner child; that part of me that needed to be rescued, loved and cherished by me. She lives within me now; is praised and loved. How she flourishes with this sort of attention!

And then onto my sexual identity and sexual responses...

I am, authentically and naturally a sexually submissive woman who wants to serve, loves to serve. I radiate in praise and in being a 'good girl'. I don't need or want anything nasty in my life. But I do feel safe and loved in the submissive role led by a loving dominant man.  I want to be in a position to offer my strengths, to be of service, and to that end there is equality. We would, in an ideal scenario serve and love one another equally well.

Just to know this to the tips of my toes feels wonderful; to have clarity, to see it all clearly. This has been the greatest gift.

Praise

I try to imagine what life would be like for me if my husband were the type of 'Owner' where he wanted complete control of me. In some ways, he has complete control, but in other ways he does not, because he doesn't desire control in those areas.

I think I'm the type of woman that probably would do best if my man did want more control of me. I'm not saying that it would be easy or immediate. I remember myelf as a woman in my twenties - that time when you can probably most mould a person to be what you want them to be, before they develop too many opinions of the world and themselves - having opinions and feeling that I had a right to an equal say.

I learned, particularly through my role at work as a Personal Assistant to a Managing Director, that there was a dynamic at hand and that I was the one to defer. The deferment didn't necessarily come entirely easily or even naturally. For example, at that time my intellect was shooting higher. Quite honestly, I was capable of doing more than I was doing and on a few occasions I requested transferal to a different job. On one occasion I suggested being transferred to the Training Division. I did, after all, have a qualification in teaching high school, so why not put that knowledge and skill into effect?

My boss simply couldn't understand my thinking. Why would I want to limit myself in this way when I could be a part of every last strategic decision made by the organisation? Naturally enough, I reminded him that I didn't make those decisions and had no effect on those decisions in any way. To the contrary, he insisted, he may not have acknowledged too many of my suggestions, but he had in fact listened and a number of those decisions had been taken up.

One day, when he was safely ensconced on an overseas holiday, Dan the advertising man came to me and asked if I would be in an advertising campaign. It sounded like fun and off we went to shoot the photographs. (I didn't advise the boss of this because I had a feeling he'd put the kabosh on the idea.) I was quite pumped about it until he arrived home and berated Dan about taking me out of his office. I took it very personally, though I never let on, and felt that he felt that I wasn't good enough. I came to realize over time that I wasn't going anywhere in that organization. He had the Personal Assistant he wanted; had trained her to suit his purposes and disposition, and he wasn't losing her to some training division or advertising studio.

If you've been reading for years, God help you, you'd know that he wanted control over me and that included my style of clothing, whether I bought something new or not (he wasn't into excess and if he caught me in stores around town at lunchtime when he was returning from a luncheon, he'd let me know about it), and my weight. When I joined his employ I was straight out of two years in the USA and I'd put on a little weight eating one or two too many hamburgers and fries, I suspect. He wasn't (completely) rude about it but he made it clear that the 10 pounds had to go, and they did. It wasn't so much a huge change in diet that did the trick. I was simply using up a lot of energy making sure he was satisfied and that I wasn't going to get another 'rounds of the kitchen'.

He also made it clear that I needed to eat more vegetables and to be sure that I did he'd often drop a box of vegetables from his garden in the country on my front door on a Sunday evening. He thought it senseless that women eat their way into a middle age spread and he loathed women eating in public on the streets. I can still feel the guilt in my throat when he spotted me one day in the street returning to the office at the end of the lunch hour eating an apple. 'But it was just an apple,' I argued. He was unconvinced.

I remember one day expressing my discontent about something in a way that wasn't entirely diplomatic. 'Don't you show your temper to me!' he stated. As a woman living through the stirrings of female liberation, he challenged me to the core. But, he did teach me many things: about men who insisted on control; about diplomacy; loyalty. It was the first stirrings and experiences getting to know my nature. If he was happy with my work, or my decision making on his behalf, or taking action to watch his back, he praised me and I cherished that. I bathed in the glow of his pride and perhaps it is this feeling that has stayed with me.

It may be interesting to know that I don't say much, nothing really, when I receive these warm feelings of having 'done good'. You'd have to look to my expression; the mellowness that is probably evident in my eyes that drop down that may suggest that I am a tad embarrassed, and the slight but unmistakable smile that widens my lips. On the page, you will need to trust me that I am most content.

A man who wanted total control of me would indeed need to train and condition me to his ways. It's only late in my life that I have wanted, myself, piercings or to wear latex. That is when I was introduced to those ideas. At first blush, I'd be most reluctant, I'm sure. But, I know in my heart that if he wanted that and made it clear that he wanted that, and it would strengthen the dynamic we shared, I'd follow along. I'm so very much into wanting a tight, strong, intense relationship that his desire for something in particular is all that would be needed. When I feel the energy coming forth, I meet that energy with abundant energy of my own. I respond to the dominance with a very natural and enjoyed submission.

In all the years that we've been together, my husband has very rarely not liked a piece of clothing I have bought, or at least he hasn't expressed that. But, one day he told me that he didn't like a pair of pants I had bought. They were pink vertical stripes. I thought they looked quite all right for weekends but he made it clear he didn't care for them. Out they went without a glace backwards.

I've an electric toothbrush. On occasion I forget to dry the base before I put it back on the base and he simply hates that, as he hates it when I don't dry my back completely, or when I make a big mess in the kitchen rather than clean up as I go. There are no consequences for these things other than 'getting it in the neck' as I like to put it, or in other words, getting told off. Maybe I'm not so much doing things the way he likes them to please him as I am doing it to avoid another telling off, but the point is, I do do it his way. Is that conditioning? Is it a natural drive to please? I wonder, if he praised me for a clean kitchen just before I served dinner once in a while, might that not be the biggest incentive of all to do things his way?

Truthfully, if I had an 'Owner' that wanted my nipples pierced, as an example, of course I'd oblige. The praise that this agreement would engender would be adequate compensation for overcoming my fear. Anyways, we'd be together. He'd lead me there so it wouldn't be that hard at all.

My husband wants, and will want going forward, to live in this big house. So, we live in this big house. We will live in this big house long after all the children have moved out. My husband wants us to do the garden ourselves, even the removal of huge tree trumps and so it is done this way, with me as the second gardener, of course. Just now I asked if I may use the ladder to do an outside task and he said 'no'. There are many tasks I'm not allowed to do because he wants control of them and isn't sure that they'll be done to his specification (which isn't at all true since I am perfectly capable of this task really). Still, I have to live with that.

Sure, I make suggestions and sometimes they are taken up. Often, they are not. We live according to his decisions. If he wanted me to live in latex for hours each week, needless to say, I'd be living in latex for hours every week. Why not, for heavens sake? It's become a dream of mine anyway, so why would I hesitate? If he bought it and demanded it, what a THRILL would that be!

Yes, at times it is hard buckling under to his version of the world, but kinky demands? And, I do mean demands. Insistence. These days? Well, I think that would be about as hard as eating New York baked cheesecake.

Guiding Hand

There's not a doubt in my mind that I do better with supervision, a coach of sorts. Whether we are talking about weight loss or physical fitness, writing or learning output, I do best when expectations are noted and monitored. If my husband wants me to speed up on the streets he takes my hand and comments that it never ceases to amaze him how I am perfectly able to walk faster once I have that guiding hand.

At one point I was expected to write down everything I ate. The expectation was removed and things got harder. I was aware of this just now when I put together a light lunch. There's a half of a yummy lemon slice sitting in the refrigerator. This is where supervision comes to the fore.  You may be able to convince yourself that eating this treat doesn't really matter, but can you convince someone else who is monitoring your very own goals? Of course you can't. The lemon slice has no place in your meal and you both know it.

It's the same with writing output. I chained myself to my desk yesterday (figuratively speaking) because my tutor pointed out how my script could be improved, and having a mindset to want to please, and knowing without any doubt that he knows what he is talking about and I should most certainly take his advice, I put the effort in to achieve a much better result.

I was talking to a woman last night who goes to 'Weight Watchers'. She said that they got cross with her that day because she hadn't achieved as they would have expected.

Are you going to commit or not? 

So, she said that she'd be good this week. But, since she has one week to go before she has to face the music again, she had two glasses of wine that I observed (and a couple before I got there) and she heartily shared in a group dessert. I truly believe her when she says that she will have celery and tomato tonight for dinner, but what exactly is she doing here?

If she had a Dominant in her life, and she does not, let's face it, he'd close down that sort of thinking very quickly. Three healthy meals, he'd say - one or two little treats per week is allowable - and - watch the wine consumption!

Of course, a lot of gals don't appreciate this type of supervision and a lot of girls have an iron will. I do appreciate supervision and I don't have an iron will.

I think one of the factors that I hadn't quite taken in before is that if you allow the thought 'I want to please him' dictate your state of mind, doing the right thing is much easier. You want the great outcome not just for yourself so that you feel good about yourself, but because you will be most pleasing to him.

It's not just that you might get punished if you disobey, but that you'll receive the most delightful praise if you do as he tells you so that you can benefit from his guidance.  And who of us doesn't swoon with praise?

Praise and affection: The essential ingredients

Dominant people want to be in control. That's their nature. At all costs, they have to prevail. If they don't prevail, much is lost for both partners, though clever types will eventually register that in any relationship there has to be some compromise and adjustments.

When a submissive is uncomfortable with a command it suggests that something has gone wrong with the delicate balance of power and energy between the two people. The Dominant takes and the submissive gives because they both want that, but that doesn't mean that something about the flow of energy between them might be unsatisfactory at some stage. Unfortunately, a remark by the submissive that she is having a problem with the command may be taken as a rebuke or a complaint.

That's a difficult situation because the Dominant might interpret this as a 'mistake' on his part and I suspect that is an even more uncomfortable thought for him than any thought that the submissive isn't co-operating or being obedient. I think sensitive people, as opposed to completely selfish people, harbor some guilt that they might have gone one step too far or been a bit greedy about how much they could fairly take from the submissive.

My strongest tendency in the submissive role is to want to make things right. I want the other to be untroubled and for there to be a smooth flow and ease of life and transactions. My biggest flaw, I think, is that I'm willing to do just about anything to enable the other to have his way and thus to be happy with me. I jog along and jog along until my sensibilities are disrupted and then I must listen to my own mind and register that all is not right. I think this is inevitable, that eventually concerned feelings rise to the surface and require expression. It's just the way the mind works.

Let's say he gives a directive. It's been a steady flow of advancement to this point and he's been forthright and determined (as well as patient), taking her onto more and more advanced levels of this training.

He's excited himself, of course. He loves to see her 'succeed' within the dominant flow of energy he provides and she's tried hard; very hard. Now he wants more - more than she thinks she can give and she expresses her doubts but goes on, endures, because he insists on that. He will prevail. She will succeed. With his steadfast determination she does succeed. Much happiness ensues. Now she's done it she has to do it again, and again, until the expectation is that she do it every day. That's enough in itself, one would have thought. But, there is more.

It becomes ho hum; everyday; not that big of a deal. Not only is she to do it every day and report on it everyday but she is to do it with no expectation of it being praised, or even discussed. It's a regimen now, one that takes her time, her focus, her endurance and that has consequences for her that aren't altogether positive or convenient, but a regimen nonetheless; part of her life.

She's tried hard to accept his demands. It is the way she is built, to try to see the best in things and to try to make things work, but eventually she is upset within herself. She's willing to do whatever makes people happy but she's no pushover, no circus dog doing tricks, and that is the way she has come to feel; that her sensibilities are disrupted.

I simply abhor this feeling myself. You might call my sensibilities, my ego, but a woman has nothing but her sensibilities/instincts/intuition to rely on in these situations. Quite unlike a circus dog doing tricks, she's a woman with an overwhelming desire to experience the surge of energy that comes from the Dominant when she gives her energy to him. That's the deal. That's what allows her to do whatever he wants of her - the attention, the affection,the praise together with the control. There isn't much she can do without those ingredients in the mix. She's can't rise without them and so the feelings falls flat.

I think this is where reliance on regimens can go awry. Is it a vanilla style regimen that I cook dinner every night? I'd say so. Is that regimen/rule going to keep a relationship ticking over nicely? Of course not. I need someone to say that they enjoy that meal if I am going to get any jubes out of cooking the meal. The same rule applies to power exchange. Attention. Affection. Praise. It's really very simple.

My professor

It would be understandable if it was thought that I had a 'thing' for school masters and/or headmasters. A man in such a role has often featured in the stories I have written and in my fantasies. In fact, I don't have a thing for men in that role at all. I don't recall a single school master who has ever made me feel weak at the knees. I've been attracted in a kinky way to their aura of authority but not specifically them.

In fact, I'm much more likely to be attracted to a professor. I recall one particular professor who lived in the next college and a few of the girls and I would go over there for history tutorials. I got the impression he'd happily bed any number of girls and word around the traps was that he did just that. Is there a better job in all the world than being a live-in history professor in a university college? I doubt it.

When I was at university there was an English professor who gave lots of the lectures. I wasn't remotely attracted to him but I was attracted to the fact that he had a wife who was a tutor in the English department as well. I liked that model and I could imagine that life. He'd sometimes say something like, "Sorry, people. Helen will be right along. She's just rang to say that she had to get the casserole on and she'll be a couple of minutes late."

That sounded perfect; the sort of job where you could pop into the university and give a tutorial and dash back home to take the casserole out of the oven after that. Your husband was a tad more senior than you and you could discuss your work, or a novel or a film and he would be genuinely interested. I distinctly remember feeling a bit jealous of her because she was living the life that I would have happily lived.

My husband would laugh his head off if he read that because the man gave lectures (according to my science student boyfriend who once accompanied me for fun) that were bullsh*t. Well, they were a tad academic and  highfalutin and he was rather 'up himself' but let's not destroy my fantasy, shall we?

I suspect this is where one of my oldest fantasies originated. I worked in the English department of a university and my man was the head of the department (of course). This union was about physical attraction and so on but it had a lot to do with the fact that he liked that I was capable and he expected me to do my very best work and to do it on time. He'd give me a special assignment and he'd rely on me doing it very well.

Prone to procrastination at times, I sometimes took advantage of our relationship and was tardy. He would be over me like a tonne of bricks. It simply wasn't good enough, he would say and he would tell me that I was to sit at my desk and not to move out of my chair until the work was done, at which time he would read it to ensure it was done to the highest standard. At times, I had to revise until it was done to his satisfaction. Interestingly, in my fantasy I never argued the point about this. He was definitely the one in charge.

It's been some time since I have had that little fantasy and I'm not quite sure now whether I was sometimes spanked later or not. As far as I recall, it was really about the intellectual control of me; the fact that he was overseeing my academic and intellectual output; that he demanded that I be the best I could be.

This sort of relationship is not unlike another role model I had early on in our marriage. Opposite the house we bought was a cottage and this lovely man, very well known in arts circles in town who we shall call George lived with his much younger cute blonde haired gal. She had a job in the arts world too and it seemed to me that he acted as her mentor or guiding force, really. They had us in for drinks one Sunday which turned into lunch. George made that and then hurried her along to the radio station to do her little show, not in a highly dominant or controlling way but in a "darling, you best scoot or you'll be late..." sort of way. I liked the way they interacted. I liked the fact that he was very kind to her and happy with her and when he died, well, I know she was devastated.

My most recent male tutor has moved on now to another university but I recognized right away that I had a strong impulse to please and impress him. I didn't find him attractive per se but there was something in his responses to me that made me want very much to please him and it certainly pleased me a great deal when I did impress him just before he moved on.

That's the central point here. I like to please and I like the idea of someone encouraging me to do my very best work because they know I am capable of that if I try hard and they see it as their job to ensure that happens.

I've really enjoyed returning to this simple little fantasy today. There's not an implement in sight; no nasty sadism or discipline; just someone insisting that I do my best; cuddling me; being there for me; loving me well. What mattered most in the fantasy is that I was appreciated, encouraged; thought bright; aided him. Together, we were a partnership. I may have been the bottom of the relationship (was the bottom of the relationship) but we walked on an even playing field.

I've noticed a difference in my state of mind lately. I've no idea if it is a passing fancy or not but my mind has returned to this sweeter, kinder sort of relationship. Importantly, there is no attempt on my part to grab control and there never ever was a desire to grab control. However, there is a strong tendency to want to be nurtured; encouraged to be my best. I've no idea where this thought will or could lead. I am simply noticing.

Challenge

I know I am writing a lot at the moment. Please do feel free to ignore me. I write here because it's the perfect 'notebook' for me and my ideas. If a thought comes to me and I don't write it down, it can fly away and not necessarily come back to me for a long time. Hence, as the thought occurs, I write it down and at least this way I can retrieve it for further thought or for some writing task later on.

Coffee with the girls after Pilates class led to a discussion of the brain. As you do. Actually, this discussion was between me and one other woman who has a psychology degree and is in between jobs working in HR at the corporate level. She's been doing a lot of reading about the brain (that's what she does for fun; a woman of my own heart!) and yesterday she attended a seminar wherein they had participants hold their hands and then contort them around so everything about folding their hands was the other way around. Then, they asked them to move their middle finger. For a time, most people couldn't do that, but as they really focused hard on the task, they found they could. It is said that they "re-mapped" their brain.

Not so long ago, it was thought that if you had a stroke, let's say, that was that and parts of your brain were now probably inaccessible to you. We (the 'we' being researchers) now know that we can find other pathways in the brain. As well, learning and challenges allow a rather tired or slack or depressed brain to re-charge. It is never too old to learn or to re-wire the brain; to locate hidden talents within yourself or to reinvent yourself.  It is all entirely do-able so long as you are brave and take that first step towards reaching your dreams. Once you've taken that first step, the rest will come. Just be brave.

I think BDSM has benefits for a person that go far beyond play or pleasure. The challenges of BDSM can indeed open your mind to all sorts of other challenges because you get to see that you are brave; that you can do it. "I did it!" say little children. Just tap into that joy; that pleasure in succeeding and take the chance.

Of course, when a child says, "I did it" then the parent or teacher or caregiver says, "Oh wow!! wowedy wow! Yes, you did do it! Aren't you brave! Aren't you the clever one!" We all need that. We all want someone to be proud. And, that's where the power exchange comes into its own. Because the best of doms will be over the moon about your success. Some of the sweetest moments of my life were receiving messages like, "mr d beri beri prowd!"

So, be the best you can be. Shoot for the stars. Follow your dreams. Then, bask in the glow of pride. It's living life at its best. 

Praise

It has occurred to me more than once that women enjoy being in an power exchange arrangement for its consistent supply of praise. Okay, there might be struggle but an insightful Top will recognize that after the struggle must come praise.

It has also occurred to me that we are capable of  'snuffing off' praise. It is not that we don't love it but that sometimes praise is almost uncomfortable. We aren't letting the praise fully in. Imagine a scenario where a woman is told she looks pretty. Instead of allowing herself the enjoyment of that inner glow of her efforts being acknowledged she says, "Oh, this old thing. I've had this dress for years." or "My hair isn't quite right though..." Or, whatever. She is not letting the praise in and she isn't giving the giver of the praise the opportunity to see her enjoyment of receiving the praise.

I did something similar recently. All this reviewing of the arts I have been doing in my course has been a huge learning curve for me. In my course we've reviewed books, art, plays, film and even music. It's been wonderful learning but in all cases but one I've had feedback such as "Good, but you could have done this, or you could have contextualized more or I wasn't entirely sure if you enjoyed it..."

In only one module was the feedback quite glowing. In only one module was my work singled out as laudable. And, guess what? That's the feedback that I glossed over; barely registered. (I actually just read over the comments now to check that the tutor said what I thought he said and to take into my soul the praise he was offering.) In terms of the more negative (or I should say, constructive feedback because that is what it was) feedback, I took in every word of that - berated myself for not thinking of it first or having missed something and so on.

I think this is the tendency of the submissive woman. On some level, she isn't entirely sure of herself and even when she gets praise she isn't entirely sure she deserves it or if it is genuine or even if it is appropriate for her to accept the praise.

My boss of a thousand years ago used to say that he didn't praise me because he thought it would go to my head. I heard how he felt about my work and efforts through other people but very rarely did I hear it from him. Even with my mentor, it was another person who knew him who told me how he felt about my efforts and progress more so than directly through him. And, of course, I took the reprimands and his not being happy with me about something much more seriously than I ever took his praise. It's a bit like getting Honours for a subject, let's say 90%, and instead of saying 'Yay,I got a really high score', we say 'I feel like I failed because I missed 10 marks and that's dumb'.

In group meditation class once we were asked to make an effort that week to really accept any praise or compliments that came our way and to take a moment to let that praise in; to be open to it and to acknowledge it. I think that's definitely worth a try.

From a distance

I happened to catch a bit of Betty Midler's goodbye performance in Las Vegas. Apparently, she'd been doing a show there for three years. I enjoy several of the songs she has been singing over the past few years and none more so than  'From a Distance'. You can hear her singing this song here if you wish.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXOgn8-aEaA

"God is watching us from a distance."

I have recently finished a memoir and must return it in a few days to a dear woman who loaned it to me. The book is titled 'The Rugmaker of Mazar-E- Sharif' by Najaf Mazari & Robert Hillman.

It is the story of an Afghan man who leaves Afghanistan in fear of his life. He has already been taken by the Taliban, beaten regularly until his declaration of ignorance in spite of the regular beatings lead the Taliban to believe that he is telling the truth and they let him go. Knowing that it is not the end of the matter, his friends and family gather together the money needed to get him over the border to Pakistan and onto a leaky, unseaworthy boat that is bound for Australia.

Of course, the boat doesn't make it all the way but they are rescued by Australian authorities and he is put into detention until it can be determined if his case is genuine and if he should be allowed to remain in Australia. I promise you that if you read the book you will never think about illegal aliens in the same way again.

Alas, I can't find the quote I wanted to share about Nareef and his relationship with God. However, at one point he thinks about his life and what he has managed to achieve - that he has worked hard to learn the art of carpet weaving and he thinks to himself that if God should look down on his people and he was scanning his eye and saw Nareef working hard he would something like, "Ah, there is Nareef. He has been a good man. He is working hard. I am pleased with the way he has turned out."

And, this pleases Nareef greatly that God should be pleased with him; that he has always done the right and honorable thing.

Nareef writes, "...all that God asks of us is persistence." and later,

"We can never be sure when God is listening. Sometimes we shout at the top of our voices, and He makes no reply at all. But a whisper? Sometimes a whisper works better than shouting."

I was moved countless times whilst reading this story but tears only rolled down my cheeks once. Perhaps the tears were from sheer relief. Finally, his ordeal was over and his life was complete.

By now, Nareef has been in Australia for some time and his joyous, sunny disposition, commitment and work ethic has attracted the assistance of several Australians who go well and truly out of their way to help him.

Here he is, finally, at Tullamarine Airport one early morning awaiting the arrival of his wife and daughter, getting more and more disturbed and worried as more and more people come out of the International gates and he still cannot see them. Maybe something has gone wrong, he worries. He has had enough setbacks in his life for this to be a genuine concern in his mind.

"Easy, mate, easy," his friend says to him.

And suddenly, there they are. He sees them.

"Blessings, blessings," he says as he rushes towards them.

And, that's when I began to cry. Who of us could not be moved by this?

But, it is not enough for Nazar to be grateful for his new life in Australia (and he has made a very good life here). He has set up a fund with friends to build schools and buy ambulances for the people of Mazar-e-Sharif so that they can share in  his good future.

From a distance, I think God is very proud indeed.

Mr. Ringo

Sumtymz, cindiz feelinz bowt her pluggiz cumfliktd. Her l8st pluggi, Mr. Ringo, he a beri challengin pluggi 4 her. Ashooli, he a gr8 shape n glydz in2 plays no prublim. Da challenj wif him cumz wuns he in, coz he cuntinoooz 2 challinj ull da tym. Mr. Big, he settlz in n reeelaxz but Mr. Ringo; well, he da sorta pluggi dat jus kenna allow bimbo 2 reeelax. He insist da she pay atttenshn ull da tym.

Cors, it nut da cays dat wun dey owta da bloo, bimbo eskd 2 yoos Mr. Ringo. Da treynnin happin obr a lung periud ob tym n bimbo beri graduilli werkiz up 2 da big pluggiz.

It reeeli nut dat lung afta Mr Ringo arryv dat she poot in Mr. Ringo. She encurijd 2 go slow n tek her tym, n she def tri slow down. But, it has sed, dat bimbo tendz 2 hurri deeez tingz. Wut ken she sey!?

N e wey, she beri proud dat she wer Mr. Ringo n she kenna wayt 2 cum on n tel bowt dis - 2 reseeeeef prays. Dis bimbo happin 2 menshin she a prayz slut? Well, dat so.

Sum tym afta dat, nut dat lung tinki, bimbo tol 2 wer Mr. Ringo ulll nite. Dis a M A J O R challenj 4 her n she sed dis. She sed she nut tinki she ken do. She tol it nut up 2 her. She hab no cuntrol - 2 settil in2 da speriens. Nut 2 esk hessef wen mite finish but 2 unnerstan dat der no wey owt - dat she hab no cunrol. She nut 2 tinki wen she get releeeef, or how lung Mr. Ringo 2 stey, but just 2 akept her predikamin.

Wel, bimbo tryz beri beri hard 2 pay attenshn 2 ull suggestinz n she continoo 2 wer da pluggi ull da nite. Dis challenjn nut jus coz it fiscilli demandn but also coz bimbo wanna feel dat totil cuntrol such dat she do sumtin dat herd 4 her. She mey uncumfertibl but she also wanna test hessef n 2 obey da cummanz she reseeef.

2 tel da troooof, bimbo reeeeeli getz off on dis sorta cuntrol n ebin do she waki lotz n wish dat she cood tek Mr. Ringo owt and she resil wif dat tot obr n obr, she nut tek him owt.

Wen it cum lite n dey tym, she so prowda hessef. She wer Mr Ringo uuuuuuul da nite n assept da cuntrol n dis mek her feel beri prowda hessef n liki she a gud bimbo. Dis a wunnerfl feelin 4 bimbo coz dis sorta cuntrol obr her n da feeelin dat she cuntrolld beri satisfyn 2 her. It y she werki so herd reeeeli, coz she wanna no wut dat liki - 2 hab no cuntrol in deeez weyz. It wut she esked 4, in fakt.

Of cors, a demandin pluggi liki Mr. Ringo hab a beri intens fisicil fekt on bimbo 2 n he tern her on in weyz dat fantastik. If onli da gurlz new!!

Cors, dis week, Mr. Pluggi jus sit on da shef n wayt 4 bimboz currekin obr. It tuf on him n reeeeli he did nuffin rong. It bimbo dat notti. Hopefoooooli, beri soon Mr. Ringo n bimbo ree you nytd n he bak where he beee lung. Dat of cors, if deeez postz septibl.

Lord Byron

I have been given the task of producing my favourite poem, of about 14 lines for my son to learn and recite to the class. Out came my favourite anthology of poetry from my university days that has travelled around the world several times. I wandered all about it but always knew that Lord Byron would win the day. He was a most difficult man but that's my speciality and he had such a way with words...


She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Forbidden goodies

On the issue of a submissive gal's food intake, dominant men tread carefully. Some tell me that they tried that and they aren't going back into those shark-infested waters. Others feel it 'part and parcel' of managing their girl. I think it could work for me so long as it was handled with commitment and dedication and a steady hand. Let me explain.

In theory, I like the idea of the dominant controlling my intake. I like the idea of someone ordering food on my behalf. When I was working and my boss took me for lunch I'd often order the fish or just a salad. He got tired of this. He felt I looked "hungry" and he reached a point where he would over ride my order and tell the waiter "she will have the porterhouse steak with vegetables". I had no objection to this. I like the idea of being told in the moment that I can't have something. Sometimes, I'll see if my husband is open to the idea of ordering dessert. "Do you need it?" he will ask. Well, of course, I don't need it and I let the idea go.

I've asked for my husband's help in the past. He knows I have a sweet tooth, must sweeter than his and if he's around he might give me a look which suggests that to eat that extra biscuit or piece of chocolate is totally unnecessary. In those instances, I usually offer it to him and he knows that is to assuage my guilt. He does not accept my offer and it goes back on the plate from which it came. All of that is okay with me.

I do sin. I simply cannot in good conscience deny that. Readers who have been with me for a long time may remember that the chocolate mint I get with my coffee after a work out caused me some grief and such events are not uncommon. I have a sweet tooth and it demands to be fed.

Yet, I know perfectly well that if I am to lose those few stubborn kilos that I want to lose and get back to feeling that my body is as I want it to be, I can't eat chocolate or any sort of naughty treats. Whilst I am losing the weight at the very least, I need to demonstrate restraint and self-discipline of the highest order.

Unfortunately, the kind of assistance my husband has offered me relates to when he sees me in the act or finds some evidence that I have been naughty and eaten foods that make weight loss virtually impossible.

"Did you eat the biscuits missing from this packet?"
'Did you eat the last few pieces of the chocolate bar?"
Put those lollies away!"

It stops me in the moment but doesn't necessarily restrain me and contain me in a way that I feel would work tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

I accept that there are reasons behind why dominants won't venture into this territory, but if I can accept my rules on all sorts of other matters then I really can't see why rules about food restrictions and limitations would not work for me so long as the dominant followed through. On other matters there are corrections for poor behaviour and praise for good behaviour. I think that might be just the 'kicker' I need to achieve my optimum weight in no time.

Since nobody has ever offered me this service, I guess I may just have to ask. Frankly, that is the hardest part of all.

Making sauce

We talk regularly and I rely on him for sage advice; for his words of wisdom. When I tell him that he just tells me to "stop it". But, it is true. He is full of wise and supportive thoughts and his friendship means a lot to me.

We were chatting recently in the most vanilla of ways. I told him that I was about to make a bolognaise sauce. He knows, probably too well, that I've reached an age when making meals for the family can become tedious; when all the responsibilities of the family can irk me some days.

"So, you are off to make sauce? I surely do love a sauce wench."

I immediately smiled. In his few words he had turned an everyday task into an erotic pleasure. No longer a task undertaken before, countless times, it was a task I imagined a man had given to his submissive.

It was a task the girl would undertake according to his specifications and specifically for his satisfaction. She would undertake it with pleasure and with hopes of his praise in her accomplishments.

A clever dom is gold. With a few well chosen words, he has lifted her day. In response, she is grateful for his presence in her life and the opportunity to cook the sauce for him.

And, thus the circle turns; the dom and the submissive believing with all their hearts that they could not live nearly so well without the other.

The sauce was delectable and devoured with gusto; as was the dish who prepared it.

Anxiety

My interest in submission goes well beyond the erotic. For a few years now, I have been giving consideration to any ties there might be with various psychological patterns of behaviour and submission. In the past, I was in regular touch with a therapist who was dominant. He was also keen to explore domination and submission with some academic rigor and our discussions on the submissive’s feelings of ‘neediness’ were quite eye-opening. Lately, I have been considering the submissive and wondering if there might be any link to her feelings of submission and feelings of anxiety.

Recently, my husband opened up a discussion with me about anxiety. He wanted me to acknowledge my feelings of anxiety and how they might show up as unacceptable behaviours for a submissive woman to exhibit. People can feel shame about feeling anxious, but it was with some relief that I acknowledged that I do suffer anxiety in certain situations. One example is that I can feel anxious in very noisy environments. In such an environment, if he should try to conduct a conversation with me, I can experience feelings of great anxiety. The competing noises can really put me on edge, and I might find myself giving him a short response. I don’t mean that I ‘flip out’ at him, but rather that there might be a bit of edge in my voice as the frustration in my body becomes overwhelming. I’ve been chastised for this for years, before we both came to see it for what it was: feelings of anxiety making it difficult for me to express my submission appropriately.

One reason people feel anxious, I understand, is when they are outside their comfort zone. Meeting new people may make them anxious because they don’t know what to expect from the encounter. They may be anxious when they are expected to perform. A woman may manage to cook a wonderful meal for a dinner party if left in the kitchen alone, for example, but experience anxiety if people watch her cook.

A dominant may consider it his job to push at his submissive’s edges. Perhaps he wants her to ‘prance’ for him, but this is something she has never done, or considered doing. She is his submissive, after all, and if he wants to see her do this, then it is his responsibility, perhaps, to bring her to the point where she can put aside her feelings of resistance to the task, and ‘prance’ for him. Yet, pushing up against her edges, her limits, may increase her anxiety for some reason. Perhaps, she is anxious about the way her breasts will look bouncing up and down. She has experienced anxiety about the size of her breasts since high school, when girls made fun of them.

Now, let us consider the submissive who is not only bouncing off her edges when the dominant demands something new of her, but she is also trying to deal with her anxiety in being outside her comfort zone. Her resistance may be very strong because of the extreme discomfort she experiences internally. Perhaps, her dominant is completely unaware of those inner thoughts and feelings. She struggles not only with her anxiety but with her feeling of failure as his submissive.

I am not qualified to suggest remedies for this situation, but what I am suggesting is that a dominant whose submissive is resisting his dominance may need to consider if anxiety is playing a part in their relationship.

One thought worth considering is that the submissive who is willing to operate outside her comfort zone should stop being so hard on herself. The vast majority of people are content to remain in their comfort zone for much of their lives, whilst she continually allows herself to be pushed well beyond that state. Her bravery in doing so is to be admired, and she could be given much praise. The dominant must be wary, I believe, of punishing her for non-compliance when in fact it may be her anxiety about the situation that is not allowing her to proceed. As always in a power exchange relationship, good communication is vital. Both the dominant and the submissive must be 100 per cent open with one another if such issues are to be appropriately taken into account.