Training

 There's an opportunity my husband and I have currently to reinvigorate our marriage via the introduction of a third party, for a time. It wouldn't be anything permanent at all; just some 'training' for want of a better word, on both sides of the equation.

Individually, we have both been quite open and optimistic about this idea, but as the time draws nearer to commit, we are discussing it in all its complexity. I think this is a normal and healthy thing to do, if for no other reason than it could easily go horribly wrong.

At the end of the day, we are both reasonably conservative people. We have not had the experience of multiple play partners, of play parties, scene events, or even munches. The desire for any of that has not been there, so there's a little apprehension in partnering with someone with differing experiences and views. On the other hand, what conservative person would you ever expect to find who could partner you in such an endeavor?

My husband has brought up the fact that there's a real possibility that a girl trained by a third party could 'fall' for that person and think about that person long after the training is complete. I agree. I suspect many girls have found a training experience profound enough to have feelings for the trainer. 

I was initially concerned about this as well, but I am now confident that this would not happen. I can't go into why I think this in this journal (which can be read by anyone. Oh, hello!), but let's just leave it at the understanding within myself that I've developed enough strength of character to not allow that. I see the motivations and intentions clearly, the professional approach adopted many times over, and this 'professionalism' keeps emotions clean and tight.

I would suggest that for some couples, they need to really consider it as a possibility, however. The question has to be asked, why aren't you training the girl yourself? Deity thought the idea unnecessary for his girl, but in his union, he was far more attuned to what he wanted to achieve; had thought about it and made it a study. 

We have asked ourselves this question and came to the conclusion that first time round, we sort of made it up as we went. We didn't really know what we were doing in any sort of detailed approach. We're looking for something sustainable, something that uplifts us both and provides a lot of joy, and this arrangement seems like a way to get the thing up and running with a sort of neutral third party who can professionally set the thing up for success. So far, so good.

Let me preempt the next comments by saying that I've grown a lot as a person in the last several years. The events of our lives demanded that, but so too did I seek out paths for growth. 

I am a kinesthetic meditator and perhaps a kinesthetic learner. I hate reading instructions and would rather just be shown how to do something, so that explains my choice of interests and study, at least partially. I have been aware of that for a long time.  In my meditative state and in my imagination or in a trance, I now know, I am living the experience. I am not watching myself. I am part of the experience. 

I have often wondered why I get such strong messages from my body and maybe that explains it. I have done hundreds of hours of formal dance training and I have always been someone who has gone to movement classes - step classes, or aerobic training or weight bearing classes, Pilates and Yoga. Maybe it's all this, combined with meditation, I don't really know, but I get very strong bodily responses.

I am aware of a trigger point still sitting in my body; a land mine that sit there that can go off when triggered. I am excruciatingly aware of it, because when it is triggered, the experience disrupts both my body and my state of mind. I get angry first, a gut reaction that wells up from the pit of my stomach and wants to verbally 'vomit' all over the person who has incited the trigger.

I think the landmine is about justice, I didn't bloody do anything to incite the trigger words and I'm not going to lie down and take it. Except, I do. Once the anger has subsided a bit, I get incredibly sad, and that sadness takes me to the floor. But you can't keep me down on the floor for long because I need to move, and so I revert to anger because anger has some fluidity about it. Anger gets you up and going.

It's this landmine that sits in my body that makes me especially wary of any sort of 'training' process. I strongly suspect that if I felt a sense of injustice or disrespect (and that's likely to happen in a training process, right?) I strongly doubt I could resist telling the offending party to get f**ked and to hit the road.

So, I did some reading about training a submissive this morning - the conditioning, the positive and negative reinforcement, the operant conditioning, the intermittent reinforcement. Nothing caused me more distress in the past than intermittent reinforcement, which I think is a form of evil. Yet, this is all part and parcel of the training process, so it seems. Do I want that? Is that all necessary to get to the highs of wonderful intimacy and pleasure?? I'm no expert but it sounds so manipulative and not always in a good way.

My husband reminds me that I loved letting go into a submissive sexual mindset. Maybe it's worth it to experience some discomfort around these issues to get to where I want to go. Maybe.

We are both very comfortable with soft strategies. No problem there. I like the idea of an ankle bracelet, for example, that I wear when I want sexual attention. It's a sweet strategy to avoid miscues.

There's already been a lot of attention given to my independence. It's a bit galling, honestly, since I have become more and more independent of my husband all the time. Since he remains a workaholic, I had no choice but to be independent in various ways and that's bedded down. I really hope we're done with that subject material. Any more independent and I may as well call myself a single girl.

In this particular case, hypnosis is bound to be part and parcel of this process. Whatever I say or write now is likely to be overridden by the wonders of hypnosis used for sexual persuasion. It's not a fair playing field. Is that a good or bad thing? I am not completely sure, and I am smiling as I write this.

Here's the thing. We don't fit the usual model. We're mature adults. We're devoted to one another. We don't easily agree to the entry of a third party and we're probably relatively non-compliant. If we don't agree or like something, we aren't afraid to say so. For me, it has to feel right. I will mull anything and give it it's fair consideration, but if my body screams out to me 'this isn't right', I can't ignore those signals.

So, we're not easy, we get that. Perhaps, at some stage, I can review these thoughts and report that my concerns were ill founded, or that I don't even remember these objections. (Did I write that?) I hope so.

Mentoring for the Dominant

Those people who identify as having a kinky nature live outside the mainstream of 'normal' sexuality. But, people such as Galen Fous are altering the long held perception that there is a 'normal' and a 'alternative' way of expressing sexuality, concluding that we are born with our sexuality and that's our 'normal' and natural way of sexual expression. I think it's reasonable to assume that as this word spreads we'll begin to see people more comfortable with outwardly identifying, within reason, as a 'dominant' or a 'submissive', or whatever is their sexual identification.

As Fous explains, it makes complete sense to have conversations with a potential lifelong partner about the details of each other's sexuality and fantasy life. That so many of us did not do this, instead hiding our inner thoughts and lives (for obvious reasons that we didn't feel we would be accepted) is what has caused the difficulties. It is quite impossible to have a deep and sustaining relationship with someone when they don't know, and perhaps cannot accept, all that is you.

Still, Fous gives hope to those couples who may not initially appear ideally suited. He cites a client who was having great difficulty accepting his fiance's desire for rough sex and pseudo rape scenes until Fous worked with this man to uncover his latent masculine force and energy.

By the end of their sessions together his client was perfectly comfortable with a whip in his hands and with the overall idea that he was interacting with his beloved entirely with her consent and for their mutual pleasure and joy. They married and invited Fous to the wedding. Those who have access to such a consultative process have a most valuable resource, but he's 10,000 miles away and I certainly know of no such resource where I live.

A few years back, my husband was excitedly expressing his frustration about something that had happened of a business nature. I listened, as I do, and when there seemed a bit of a gap in this monologue I asked him, quite sincerely and seriously, if it would help him to spank me. I distinctly remember his response. He told me not to be ridiculous. I took that to mean that the very thought of spanking his wife to overcome his own frustration was an unthinkable thought, and I accepted the sentiment was quite an alien one for him. I never brought it up again.

But, even back then I had this sense that if he could somehow garner his power, his energy, his passion, his masculinity; his arrogance and his sense of the fitness of things; that I might have the benefit of that aspect of his personality.

Am I making sense?

What I am trying to say is that I am married to this man who takes life on; who takes people on; who believes that he is right and his way is right. Isn't that the sort of man who, if he were shown how to function in a relationship with a submissively minded wife, would thrive in expressing that dominance  both sexually and day to day within the structure of a power exchange relationship?

From observing this man closely for decades it is clear to me that he, like all people, has only so many resources; so much energy. For long periods of time he is perfectly capable of taking that passion, energy, drive and masculine persuasion and dumping it into a business project, thus leaving nearly none for me until the project is complete. I'm not complaining here. I'm just stating a fact.

But, what if  he was shown how to hold onto that drive and power of persuasion at home to exert it over me for our mutual benefit; no longer an 'all this or all that' situation but rather expression of his dominant nature in all facets of his life? What if he had a few strategies to ensure consistency in the dynamic even when he is, by necessity, self-absorbed in business matters for stretches of time?
Like the man Fous worked with I believe that my husband, and many other husbands, have what it takes to satisfy the submissive woman, but they could benefit from a little mentoring.

I once read that it is not the submissive who needs a mentor but the Dominant. I think the sort of work Fous does suggests that this may well be the case.

Erotic images

I imagine that, like me, most people masturbate to images that please them and arouse them. I'll note here my most recent images, those of this morning; images that brought me to climax at my own hand.

I have an Owner. This becomes very apparent because when I knock on his study door on my return home he reminds me that I have failed to complete a task.

It is true. The task has slipped my mind. I apologize and say that I will tend to it immediately. He replies that before this takes place, a written task, he needs to "correct me" to impress upon me the most important rule of all; the rule from which all other rules originate.

'What is your most important rule, girl?'

'To do as told.'

'To do as told. The correction will help to impress this upon you.'

He produces a tawse. He has me take off my panties and bend over his desk. He has me count each stroke and to thank him for each stoke; strokes that help me to learn my lesson.

I have yet to climax. I need to feel the connection with my sadist Owner more intensely.

He lectures me a little; not sternly, just more talk about training me to respond to his every whim instantly; the desire to please him as being my first and uppermost thought.

Then, he says that he wants to keep my attention right now on my warm ass. Thus, I am to stand close to the open fire with my bottom presented to the fire, to maintain the heat; to remind me of the work of the tawse.

He assists me into position, bends me over and spreads my cheeks. He wants, he says, for every last inch of my backside to feel the glow of the embers.  Noting my anal plug is in place (God forbid I'd broken that rule!) he tells me that today it will remain in place for longer than usual; that I am not to remove it until I am granted permission.

Buzz words do it for me - 'permission' is an instant turn on for me. I am much wetter now; way more aroused now.

Of course, I struggle. The flames are making it incredibly difficult to remain in place and yet, having disappointed once already today, I know that I must endure. He might as well say, 'suffer for me', because that is what he wants me to do, and that is what I know I must do, for his sake and for mine.

The whimpers become more intense, more desperate. He comes to me finally and allows the back of my skirt to fall down over my very red ass. He tells me to rise. He holds me close. 'Good girl'.

'Do you wish to serve your Owner?'

I am desperate to do so. I nod. He leads me further away from the open fire and silently commands me to my knees. My mouth opens at the sight of his cock and without further invitation I take it into my mouth as one might put one's lips to the Holy Grail; with reverence and awe. Immediately, I feel at peace.

He speaks to me at times - that it is my place to serve him; that it is his pleasure that matters the most, and all through these words, I hear them merely as distant music in the background. My head is empty of thought. My mind is absorbed in a sense of grateful fulfilment and abandon.

Unexpectedly, he holds my head tight in his hands, the signal that he will dictate the pace from now on. He thrusts his cock deep in my mouth at rapid speed. Meanwhile, I am lost in sensations of being used, of being of use; of having an Owner; of being at one with him and of being at one with myself.

 He comes hard, grunting, spurting hot cum into my mouth. I have my own version of an orgasm;  it is a massive relief to the soul to be treated in this way.

 In real life, I'd reached my own climax, but even so it's hard to let the images go. They provide me with intense relief from a fundamentally vanilla marriage. I am the kinky one around these parts. So, I added one last little detail to the scene. The task was a written one. In his study is a school desk - wooden with a wooden chair  to match. He has me complete the overdue written task sitting at that desk, with my corrected bottom directly on the seat.

Of all the events that afternoon I find this one the most humiliating. I can't get lost in sexuality. It is all about 'place'; humiliation; enforcing my role as his charge and his role as my authority figure. It just thrills me to the core, that image.  

The power exchange dynamic

No matter how well trained we are or how disciplined we are or how accommodating we are, there are going to be moments when things don't go as well as one would like, and I think an exploration of those difficult moments enables one to gauge the dynamic and see just how it works.

In some weeks or even months now I have only had one difficult day. It happened about two weeks ago now. To set it up, it was the first day of the last term of the academic year. I was under some pressure. My husband had wanted to stay an extra day in the country, which was fine except that it put me in a situation where I had to scramble to get in an academic task by the deadline of midnight that same day, and my son was in a similar boat.

So, on the Tuesday when I awoke I was tired (we'd done a lot of physical work in the past three days) and possibly I was not emotionally prepared for the tasks ahead of me - getting sons to train/school etc. How about I got ready fast, my husband suggested as I crawled out of bed, and we'd take the boy to school and then I could drop him off to the office in town on my way to the market?

It set me off. I said something along the lines of "All you have to do is prepare yourself. I have responsibilities and I can't get ready for the day right now. I can't guarantee I will be ready by 8.15 am." Something like that. I was clearly not myself because he came out to the kitchen and offered to take the boy to the train but I declined that offer. Anyways, he can do a good job of cajoling me in such a mood and I can do a decent job of recovering from a setback and we were on our way to the city bright and early with me driving. All good.

We weren't far from home, going around the edge of a park when it was obvious I had to stop. Two enormous trucks had entered the narrow street and I couldn't pass. My husband was immediately agitated and started barking orders about what I was to do about it. I was agitated that he was barking orders. In such a situation it pays to stay very quiet but as I have explained in some detail already, I hadn't woken up in the most bimbo of moods. I didn't really understand what he wanted me to do in the dilemma until I gathered he wanted me to reverse into a driveway as he was beckoning both the truck drivers on.

So, once I could follow what he wanted me to do, and I accept that I was probably making the odd suggestion of my own which isn't something I usually do, I backed into the driveway. However, he was continuing to freak out, and I could only think that somehow, if it is really possible to do so, I was backing into the driveway wrong.

So the trucks moved, we passed, I went into silent mode biting my bottom lip in order to settle myself and he continued to rant on about what I had done wrong, how I hadn't listened and so forth. He's good at recognizing what he did later in the day these days but in the spur of the moment he can remain defensive and he continued to defend how that all had gone down. I stayed as silent as I could but he goads me to talk in these situations and ultimately I said something like "You are all grown up now. You have to learn to get control of your emotions!" Anyways, he was ready to settle down but I wasn't and when I let him out in town he wanted it all to be settled, but all I could manage was "Look, we're sweet, I really have to get out of the bus lane now."

Once I was on my own I headed to a cafe and had a strong black coffee and settled myself: sent a cajoling text, because I did recognize that there is a way to handle these situations and that wasn't it. Later in the day he sent one back and later that night he suggested that I probably haven't been spanked enough; that spankings settle me. Duh!

I've explained endlessly that I talk with someone about my submissive side and that our conversations always have a particular pattern. I'm on the bottom. On this day, I wouldn't say that I was dominant at all but I was very unsettled at the beginning, middle and end of it. I suggested that I sensed something was up with him. What a classic case of transference of which I was completely unaware!!It was me that was unsettled; me that was feeling particularly guilty.

He was slow in his responses, probably sitting there in front of his electrical device thinking "What the f...?". I must say he did a sterling job of keeping his wits about him, ensuring that I understood that he wasn't going to budge or allow me the slightest leeway in the dynamic we share. Ultimately he accused me of not following the guidelines as laid out (How does he know???) and bid me a good afternoon. The guilt was super thick now; embedded into the brain.

I sat there for a bit, wondering how the hell this day had gone so wrong. Then, I did what I know to do pretty well these days. I pulled my socks up, got back to bimbo business as I know to do, got on with my daily tasks both in and outside of the house, made dinner and prepared myself to be charming, gracious, obedient and in my place again. That worked. That suits everybody.

I thought about all this and recognized that I don't have control and nor do I want control. I'm not necessarily that nice when I have more control than suits me. My relationships don't work that way, and they certainly don't work well for me that way. I pondered. What if I'd got the upper hand in these situations that day? What if either one of them, or both of them had not prevailed? What a total mess that would be; what an unmitigated disaster!!

A great deal of my 'training' has been learning about how to interact with a dominant man and I would suggest that the best way to do that is with a great deal of intelligence, restraint, discipline and respect. Apologies are sometimes in order on either or both sides of the coin. I'm not suggesting anything different but I am noting that a dominant must ensure he prevail. Control is paramount for the good order of the relationship.

Toys

I've been reading different material lately. I am interested in reading about different mindsets. Basically, I want to learn. Some days a sentence will capture my attention, as it did this morning.  Mistress Breeze said "he needs to understand that he's property and I own him, but he doesn't own me".  Mistress Breeze is a woman who is prepared, like me, to put her thinking out there on the Internet for other people to read and she's bravely going about analyzing herself at times; trying to figure out the best relationship for her; trying to figure out how she might take responsibility for a man, a slave, and not lose herself in the process; what she wants. What sprang to mind when I read this sentence was the ending of 'The Story of O'. Remember, she burned her cigarette into his hand?

I've also been reading a blog quite voraciously this past week. Train her well has a great deal of information to impart about training a person to accept his or her nature as a slave. I'm sure it says something about me that I love reading there. I'm not sure exactly what it says about me. However, I do know that as one is trained to embrace one's rather true (read: slutty) nature, the words on those pages resonate more and more.

Put it this way. I'm aware that a few years ago the notion of obedience, pure and simple, was not a concept that I could embrace for me personally. I think that was because, for me, (and I always put that restriction on what I say because I have no idea what works for other people) it simply was not the right time. In the vast majority of cases where a person is having trouble doing what they would like to do (aka obeying) it is because the chemistry between the two people isn't completely right. It isn't necessarily an issue of love but rather some unquantifiable 'chemistry', I think.

Honestly, I think that people who are willing to wait and who have the patience to train over protracted periods of time are very rare. I also think that you can meet many suitable people but if the instincts are telling you not to engage fully, then it's all over. You need both someone with whom you feel safe, cared for, in whom you trust and whose sensibilities suit you. Sensibilities can't be underestimated.  You can't get over these things by trying harder. It has to be a 'fit' of the two people and that's all there is to that. For example, (and I know this sounds very Seinfeld of me) if you are into a very clean and neat look and he's not, there's little you can do about the mismatch. Forever more, your brain will process this as a problem.

Then, when the fit is right, the patience on the part of the person training has to be enduring; the craft of molding a person has to be present. It takes a lot of work and careful thought and planning. It has to be fun for him or her doing the molding, too. If it's not fun at least a good percentage of the time, it won't work.

Now, of course the relationship between two people works best when their needs and wants are aligned. I've discovered over time that needs and wants can become so entangled that it is almost impossible to say where one ends and one begins. Do I want something because I want it or do I want something because the other wants it? Do I need to have something happen or do I need it to happen because the other wants it to happen? The question loses it importance when two people are so in tune that there is so definitive answer. In the end, you both want the same thing. It's fusion, really.

I think it can work a bit like this. He says that she should do x. She's not sure. He rallies her and cajoles her. She desperately wants to please and in the end she embraces the new challenge. But, it's hard, as it is meant and designed to be. She spends a little time in reverse gear. She tries, but it's hard.  She's quite flummoxed and tells him so. He assures her that he has full confidence in her. Basically, if he says that she can do it, then she should have full confidence in herself. She. can. do. it. She accepts her fate. There is no way out and even though it is hard, she must proceed. Now comes the acceptance. It's still hard but her mind has switched into another gear. She wants this. Does she want it because he wants it for her. Did she want it all along and was too afraid to say? Who cares!! The synergy is there. The obedience is in place. She's his toy and that works awfully well for both of them.

Within this sort of arrangement and mindset there is a hint of the owned and the owner. It takes time to get there. It takes a lot of carefully planned work, resolve, perseverance and enormous consistency. There isn't much place for anger or impulsiveness. It's dogged determination to do work that reaches certain goals. At least, that's the way I see it. First comes some sort of instinctual synergy about the person you are teaming up with and then comes the sort of hard work/fun that unites two people to make a team; that encourages, demands and ensures complete trust. Deep within my mind is the desire for toyhood. There's no doubt about that for me any more.

The objekt state

After a hectic morning taking care of others, I needed  the sanctity of a Pilates class; just me and the mat. We began standing up moving our arms from side to side and as I watched my hands I was aware of my newly 'rebalanced' claws. I haven't cut them in quite a while and Peter used special creme on them this time instead of varnish. I loved the result and this morning I was very aware of my claws - dolly nails; nails that encouraged me into an objekt sort of space in my mind.

I was calm and relatively tranquil; trying to give my mind the opportunity to go where it would. I am so often looking for that it space, but it is not so easily found at the moment. I do what I have been trained to do and I love that I have no resistance to any of this - the nails, the bimbo switch; the anal training. It's all a part of my life now and I give thanks for that every day.

Yet, the feeling is there, more and more each day really; that desire for intense control; the opportunity to feel just like an objekt - peaceful, controlled. Somebody else makes the decisions and I comply. He says do this, and I obey, because I am a doll and dollies know no other way. Dollies want  no other way. This thought pervades my thinking and I relish it; play with it; relax with it and embrace it.

The Pilates mat is where I have sometimes experienced this objekt frame of mind, so I remained open to it; not forcing anything; hopeful...

And, it happened. I was in a crunch on my back and pulling up into a position with my legs up in the air when it simply came over me. I was a puppet and the puppeteer was pulling my strings. I only could move when he chose to pull the strings and up I came. Down I went, when he was ready for me to do so.

From then on, for a blessed ten or more minutes, every move I made, I waited first for the puppeteer to move my strings. There was a breath while I waited and I was moved. This was an incredibly beautiful time for me; a time of great peace and contentment. The connection between the invisible puppeteer and me was rhythmic. Not only did he control the movements of my body but my breathing and my mind. This was a place of total harmony. No resistance lives here; no desire to do anything that has not been instructed. The trust is infinite. The desire to please is innate. The understanding that this is my purpose is complete.

Of course, when it came time for relaxation and I lay like a corpse on my mat with my eyes closed this state of bliss and peace brought tears to my eyes; tears that welled behind my closed eyes and when I was instructed to sit up I needed to brush away the tears that fell quickly so that no-one could see. Far from tears of unhappiness they were tears of great joy. I felt truly blessed.

Chat rooms

It's well known that some people 'play' on the Internet; have a go at dominating someone or submitting to someone and I gather that lots of this experimentation takes place in 'chat rooms'. I've no idea where one goes for these chat rooms and I've little interest in finding out. I guess it could be interesting to see what that's like and to experience different types of Dominants having a go at trying to impress me with their particular style of domination but I hold out very little hope of having a positive experience. When submissives write about this sort of thing they seems to nearly always come across some person who hasn't a clue what he is doing  and when dominants write about it they also seem to write about it as if it is some sort of game and they are putting our their 'lure'.

Well, personally I'm not a very easy fish to catch and I just can't imagine in a month of Sundays that I'd walk away from a chat room being enriched. I could be wrong, of course and I'd love to hear about other people's experiences.

I imagine in these 'chat rooms' wherever they may be, that dominants are big on 'Sir' and 'Master' and that wouldn't work for me. They're strangers. I've no idea to whom I am speaking and that sort of verbiage isn't something I'd be prepared to use. And, if they were to have expectations of me, well, that's definitely not going to work. Like any relationship I would need to go slow, to get to know someone before I'd even think of going any further than pleasantries. In my opinion, anything faster than that would seem false and even scary.

In fact, I've only ever found one person in whom I put my trust and my faith to allow for a 'transformation' and we were friends for eons before we went the route of him advising me. Oh, he advised me on an ad hoc casual basis before that but anything official and formal between us occurred long after we 'met'.

When I look back on that association it assumed enormously deep trust that isn't made in a day, a week or even a month, I don't think. It takes a lot of conversation and a lot of understanding of each other's needs before it gets to that sort of understanding of another person.

Having had a very positive 'over the Internet' experience I recognize that it is possible, albeit rare. It's an opportunity for someone new to all this to have a go and in certain circumstances it can go some way towards fulfilment, given complicated circumstances in one's 'real' life. However, it has to be said that one must keep their feet on the ground to avoid hurt. Internet friendships can vanish as fast as they appear and one has to keep that in perspective. As real as it can feel, it's tentative.

However, it's an interesting phenomena because I've met some wonderful people over the Internet and gained some lovely, long friendships and associations. It's quite extraordinary the range of kinky people that I've met through this journal; one of the huge benefits of writing here.

It takes enormous skill, time and commitment to honor an arrangement whereby one person agrees to assist/lead one person and the other person agrees to be assisted/lead, even over the Internet. Everybody has their own style and the difficult part is to match one person's style and beliefs with another. Frankly, without a sense of spirituality to the mentoring/leadership it seems a bit hollow to me and the huge attraction for me in the mentoring online was that it was about my mind, my senses, my inner core of being and the way I walked this Earth. It was an holistic approach and huge integrity both ways was central to the association. Now, how rare is that?!

It just may be that I'm well beyond someone telling me to do this or that every day unless I really saw the point. Dominance without very careful thought as to purpose is something that has no interest for me.

I think what I'm trying to say here is that any kind of dominance or submission for me has to do with creating a relationship of care and compassion. One person is looking to be cared for and to get to a certain place and one person believes that he or she can take them there, utilizing the skills of patience, understanding, commitment and determination.

I'm not at all sure that this sort of experience will ever be available to me again which makes me most grateful indeed that I had the opportunity to experience it at least once in my life.

The doll's free flowing thoughts

It can be awfully easy on a blog such as this to make statements that don't hold up in reality. We're so often in an erotic sort of zone when we read and write. It can be awfully easy for statements to roll off the tongue.

A spanking a day sounds nice

She would wear her plug every morning and all through the night.

She would only wear dresses and skirts.

I want to feel tightly contained.

However, life isn't like that all the time. I am not like that all the time.

In the olden days when I had a mentor he had certain expectations of me and they involved doing things every day. Sometimes, it all seemed so easy and other times I'd rail against it. To this day I have no idea if he really expected me to accept those every day ultimatums. I am after all, human.

I know I bucked. I'd try to discuss it with other Dom friends. They'd walk the line of explaining that he did mean it but he didn't mean for me to look into the abyss and imagine that for the rest of my life I'd be doing this, just like as a dieter you don't look into the abyss and imagine never eating sugar again. You take things day by day. You eat an elephant one bite at a time.

That helped. I tried to take it day by day but even then I felt resistance. We'd be talking and he'd have his expectations and some days, in spite of my best intentions, I'd explain that I was feeling "bellyus". He'd quietly push and then when that didn't work he'd push harder. What he didn't do was relent and in the end, fearful of tapping into his anger, I'd accept my fate.

I appreciated (and needed) this push; this insistence that the rule remained. However, what I came to see and accept rather late in the day was that I always had at my disposal the opportunity to argue my point of view. If the argument was made well and the line of defense accepted, there was room within the rule for an exception. (Realistically, I rather doubt it would have worked to do this except in very rare and exceptional circumstances.)

When something works on an everyday basis, really truly works, there is no need for exceptions. I'd hardly ask for an exception for the rule about acrylic nails, now would I?

I'd hardly ask for an exception to the fact that I am responsible for the household. It is set in stone.

I'd hardly ask for an exception to the rule that I must speak politely. I know all too well the response that a lack of respect earns me, at home or on the Internet.

But, some rules are not so ingrained and maybe they never can be. What I was being asked to do is very hard on a day by day basis. If you add into the equation the presence of the Dominant making it happen, then I think it is entirely possible. But, my husband isn't inclined to make happen what he doesn't see himself as do-able or necessary. There's no-one to insist; no-one for whom the rule is entirely necessary. And so, it is not achieved on a daily basis any more. Whom am I  pleasing? If I am pleasing no-one then why should I do something that requires sustained effort and will?

Yet, if I don't do the task on a daily basis, it is I that is the loser in this equation. I cannot enter into the doll's state of mind without doing that thing daily. Without that task achieved where is the 'on' switch?

I grapple with this; find it endlessly difficult to know that I must do this thing without the Dominant's desire being expressed; must do it by myself; for myself; alone.

Is the doll still a doll alone; without a dollmaker; a puppeteer to bring the doll to life? Is there a value to her simply to know that she exists; that she lives and breathes within the realm of the doll house, ready and wanting; available and prepared?

Of course, there is, there is. But, should she abdicate her responsibilities there is no one to check; no-one to care and she wonders, if no-one is there to see her or speak with her; if she cannot impress or please or give pleasure, is she really alive?

She can feel her heart beating. She is just a heartbeat away from rising to the surface; from bubbly over with pleasure and joy. She is always there; wanting to come out; sitting just below the surface; waiting...waiting...

How much I wish to see her, breathe her air, immerse myself in her, be her. How much I envy her. I've seen her happiness; her joy; her bliss; her sexual satisfaction and profound love of life.  Gosh, but I miss her.

Porn

I am partial to a little porn. Every now and again, my fingers find themselves typing into the Google search bar words  such as 'spanking videos' and I choose a few little snippets of free clips to observe.

Two days ago, I came across a minute clip that I thoroughly enjoyed. The girl was bent across a wooden old world school-style desk - the type with a place for a fountain pen and a hole for the ink well. I like those types of desks because it conjures up all sorts of images of the girl sitting at her wooden desk on a plain wooden seat writing out her thoughts for the man after her thrashing. But, I digress.

At this stage of the video the girl has already been thrashed quite severely. Her lovely bare buttocks are a haze of red and back blotches and there are stripes running horizontally across her buttocks. She is whimpering, poor lass; lifting her hand to hold her forehead for some sort of comfort. However, at no time does she move any other part of her body. Her feet stay firmly on the ground. When he holds the cane across her rump again and then lifts it high enough in the air to produce another loud crack of the cane as it thunders across her already very well beaten bottom, her knees don't bend, nor does she move slightly to one side to try to get away from the awful instrument.

She is completely obedient and accepting. For several more strokes, she lays there completely still, whimpering nicely with each new stroke but never flinching, never raising her chest; nothing.

Of course, this is staged for my benefit. The idea is that I'll buy the video if I like what I see and thus the camera hones in on the state of the girl's bare and well beaten bottom. It becomes apparent just how severe the thrashing has been. We see where the cane has slightly opened the skin and there's just no doubt in my mind that for the next several days, sitting is going to be quite a chore.

I don't buy the video. I've never bought a spanking video but since the first viewing it is true that I have watched it again several times. I love that video! I've been wondering to myself why I love that video so much and I think I liked that she didn't have to count, for one thing. She simply bent over due to the man's displeasure and she'll stay bent over like that until he tells her she may rise.

The pacing is entirely at his discretion. Perhaps he has already told her it will be twelve hard strokes. I don't know. But, I like to imagine that he has simply said that for her crimes and misdemeanors she will be soundly thrashed until he is convinced that she has learned her lesson. This is why, I like to imagine, she is so completely still. The only way she can convince the man that she is reformed is to be very accepting of the pain he is providing her with, for her instruction and benefit, of course.

When he does finish caning her, (and we know that because suddenly his arm which is dressed in a stiff white cotton shirt moves into view and slightly away from the girl, as if he in the process of returning the cane to its resting position), she moves her hands to her bottom and begins to feel the stripes, providing herself with a little well-needed comfort.

That's where the film maker lost me really because what girl in her right mind would take the chance after such a darn hard caning of meeting the ire of the man all over again?! Did he say she could move a hair on her head? He did not. Perhaps she hasn't had enough stripes after all....Well, perhaps that is what happens next in the video and I am just too cheap to buy the video and find that out.

The little clip has really captured my imagination. I've brought myself to climax twice now on the thrills and spills of the blond headed girl in the video and each time I like to take it a bit further. This morning, she wasn't in a school-type situation at all but rather it was her Dominant who had said to her that the time had come for her to re-learn a very important lesson: respect. She's a girl used to receiving 4 moderate strokes of the cane every morning of her life. The idea is that this correction will keep her in good order; remind her of her place and her status. However, her behaviour has been a little shabby lately; her manners and words a little out of line and he's explained to her that something more is required.

She's whipped in a manner similar to the blond-haired girl with no idea how many strokes will be considered enough. In the same way, she stays very still. He's not partial to a moving girl and should she rise it's a repeat of the stroke +1 and that can really add up. She's learned that lesson the hard way in the past.

In fantasy land, enough is never quite enough and the man determines that she needs to be contained for the next month in a way that will ensure he receives her co-operation in a more intense and sustaining way. She wears her anal plug to bed each night, but let's face it; that's a pleasure and not at all arduous. He decides to up to the ante. The four strokes will be given in the morning as usual, of course, and after that she will wear her bedtime anal plug in the daytime instead. He will place it in her after the strokes and she will wear it for the next eight hours of every day for the next month. Perhaps, he suggests, it will be a stronger reminder for her of his expectations of her behaviour.

As the days wear on, the girl becomes acquainted with the sensation of sitting on a tender backside and of feeling the hole stretched and used. She bunkers down in her mind to a place now where this sensation is quite ordinary for her. She begins to think of herself much less as a girl and much more as a doll. She has less thoughts and more time when her head is free of thought; empty; joyful. She feels a very strong connection to the man who has given her these instructions and now her mind only looks to obey; to impress; to receive his praise and pleasure in her. The girl has been transformed. She is no longer capable of making decisions for herself and she awaits his instructions, ever mindful of her place and her position; eager to please; even more eager to be used.

Capture and release

I see now what happened and what happens when a girl isn't properly controlled and contained. Feeling unhinged, unmoored and just a tad unsafe, she struggles. After she struggles, she rebels. Oh sure, she wants what he has to offer but she rebels at first, regardless of whether or not she is now getting what she, in fact, wants.

Owner says that girls have a "punishment" mode. That is to way, if the owner hasn't been living up to expectations the girl sub-consciously makes him pay. (Naturally, I denied it.)

Owner also talked of fisherman. Well, we are in Tasmania, so I guess that's quite appropriate. He says that the deep sea fishermen have a policy of "capture and release". Conversely, if a girl is released (in her mind, that is) she won't necessarily be "captured" again without a struggle. She may want to be captured...can think of nothing more than that she would love to be captured...but the man has to work for it now. She won't come easily...

And, so it goes.

Anyways, I've been captured now. It was slow at the start..a bit of a rebellion and struggle... but ultimately this "fish" surrendered.

And, she's so glad to be back where she belongs: surrendered; satisfied; serene and safe.

(Why is that after lots of lovely orgasms girls are full of heady joy and owners look a bit worn out...?)

P.S. Owners feeling much better. We've been trialing a hunch of his as to a deficiency and its working wonderfully well.)

Danger period

Yesterday morning, a spanking took place, not as any sort of correction, just because he chose to play with me. He took out his special piece of tied rope and he used it liberally not just on my ass but all over my back and hips and thighs. When he made his focus my ass after that, I could literally feel the juices fall down on the sheet.

He turned me over, told me to keep my hands above my head and began to work on the front. My breasts can be sensitive which is why, I think, he likes to do it - to bring the rope down across my breasts. I didn't and haven't told him that it causes a glow in my nipples, particularly the right nipple that I found incredibly arousing, at the same time as I associate some pain with the experience.

When I couldn't stop myself from trying to protect my poor nipples from time to time he brought the long rope, part of which had secured my wrists, around the bed so that I was firmly tied to a bed post. Now the rope could come down on my body where he chose and without my interference.

Unable to wait any longer (I think) he plundered into me and roughly fucked me.

This was all very satisfying on many levels.

However, I really didn't get the buzz from the experience that I had anticipated. The day after that was fine. I did my reading for my weekly assignment, we had a sandwich and a coffee at the club; I made a pasta for dinner and we watched 'The Iron Lady'. Nothing was wrong. Yet, nothing was particularly right either. It was odd.

This morning, he was his feisty self in bed - some comment about Thatcher being right and it wasn't about feelings, it was about thoughts. This was meant to be a line to put me in my place because I hadn't like the way he had responded to my genuine suggestion about why his foot was hurting. I took umbrage and got out of bed, suggesting as I went that Thatcher was alone towards the end of her life and maybe being nice was a better way to go!

We met shortly thereafter in the kitchen.

"Are you all better now?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"It's so predictable. You get a bit roughed up and you want to assert yourself."

I just looked at him. It was so true. For reasons I don't understand, every now and again, what would normally be seen as a really good time, isn't. It is. But, my response to it isn't the usual response.

He doesn't really let it bother him. It's clear he's not really bothered. But, it is, as he likes to call it a "danger period" and I gather he feels that what's important is to keep me contained and be clear about the fact that he is in control. That seems to get us over this little bump.

That's true.

What he doesn't know is that since that event, my mind is on fire. The thoughts about how I'm treated in my fantasy life are especially more intense: a more whispy cane, a firmer strike, a louder scream; a bigger plug, a longer containment...a very dumdum l'il thing.

I've had the sort of training that doesn't fade away. It's very much a part of my mind processes now. It's just who I am and how I process. Pride (ego) will rear it's head occasionally, making it all the more important that the control is firm and my place on the bottom well secured.

Transforming depression to peace and joy

To return to the spiritual man who took a yoga class last week, he said that when people are found having been buried under rubble for a week or even longer, the press often refer to it as a "miracle". It is not a miracle, he said. We can all survive for a week or more without food or water. The reason why people survive is that their spirit is strong. I mentioned this to my husband and he said, "Well, people panic. That's why they die." But, it does goes to resiliency, I think. Some people are extraordinarily strong. Awful things can happen to them but they seem able to overcome them.

I happened to catch a BBC radio show just now about depression. Researchers were trying to uncover the reasons why some people are resilient and some people fall down to depression. It is a subject that absolutely fascinates me and I have spoken to several people about it. My third child was born with a number of issues and I was told he would never go to a regular school. An American psychologist told me this when my son was three years old and it put me off psychology for nearly 20 years. My husband said it was hogwash and that I should just pretend I never heard that statement but I confess it shook me to the core. Anyway, we just proceeded to educate him like the other children, mindful that there were issues and undoubtedly I gave him an extra dose of my time and attention and of course I found experts to give him the necessary intervention therapies.

He graduated from school a few years ago, was a senior member of the outdoor program; Captain of his summer sport. His marks didn't enable him to go straight into a degree course but he did a diploma course and got very good marks which earned him a sideways transfer into the Degree course. Initially, that was rough. He failed a few subjects but once he realized the expectations he knuckled down and next time it was all Distinctions and Credits. He wants to be part of the industry based program and he has been for an interview - just missed out because one other candidate had experience already in that particular field. It didn't bother him. Whatever happens, he never ever gets depressed. If something doesn't work out, he immediately figures out how to overcome the hurdle. I have huge admiration for this quality. I wish I could bottle and sell his resilience.

The theory goes that if you have had a bout of depression, you are more likely to have another episode. I definitely had post-breastfeeding depression, as I call it. I was blissfully happy after the birth of my fourth child until he one day decided he didn't want to feed from my breast. He simply turned his head away and that was that. I was dumbfounded. For 8 months, he had fed from my breasts several times a day. He had a sucking action that none of the other children had and I would sit there having multiple orgasms every day of my life, usually four times a day. And then, one day it was all over. Chemical changes in my body, I think, led to depression.

My husband tried to seek help from some helpline he located but the woman who answered left him with the impression that it was all his fault and that confused him all the more. I continued with life. I wasn't stuck in my bed or anything but I just wasn't getting joy out of my life. It probably is worth bearing in mind that I had, as well as the baby, three children in primary school, a husband doing an MBA and no help whatsoever from family members. That could have had something to do with it too. Fortunately, after a few months the depression lifted of its own accord.

 When I try to imagine what it was like to have depression, I can't recall it or imagine it in any detail. I do know that many days I felt listless and I recall walking into the laundry one day and looking at all I had to do and imagined the work of climbing Mt. Everest. To call a spade a spade, I was seriously overworked; relentless work that started at dawn and didn't end til last thing at night, and then I'd wake up the next day and do it all over again. Although I loved my children fiercely, the job of motherhood was eating at my marrow. It was sometimes my own resilience and determination to get through those years (in spite of the depressive episode) that kept me going, I think.

Last year, nearly 15 years after the first episode of depression, I reached a point where it was becoming clear to me that I was depressed and fearing it, I chose to begin psychological counseling (which turned out to be a kind of cognitive behaviour therapy approach) So, where was my resilience? What had taken me to this point? Well, remember, I speak now in hindsight. I can't remember all my thoughts of 12 months ago. But, this is what I think happened. For a few years by then, I had had some wonderful SM moments; some of the best moments of my life. Somehow, that made the lows all the more low for me. If my husband or my mentor was at odds with me; if they were disappointed with me; if they were angry with me; I hit an all time low. Of course, good times would return. Stability would come. But, it was that see-saw approach of life that was really overwhelming me.

When I entered therapy I told my psychologist that I wanted to just live happily and calmly but also to have the very good times. She once told me that I was incredibly lucky; that almost no one else had these incredible moments of elation like I was describing. But, without being able to explain it then, though I can explain it to you now, I wanted to experience the same highs but in an environment where I felt more stability. I didn't want to give up the highs but I did want to say goodbye to the lows; those dreadful occurrences where I felt that I made someone else so mad with me.

It bothers me that I can give no clear cut advice to those suffering depression, but then again, the English researchers on the BBC didn't have answers either. I once was depressed. I am no longer depressed and yet, I can't express the process of recovery exactly - although perhaps there are some answers in my journal entries of the past eight  months or so (I rarely re-read here).

For me, I think it was about gaining some autonomy. As someone who clearly has a submissive personality I tended to give too much of myself away and my psychologist steered me towards doing something for myself. When we isolated 'writing' as something I had always wanted to do, she wouldn't let the bone go. One day, I said that I had identified the course I wanted to do but that I would wait for 2012 to commence.

"Oh no you don't! You are enrolling right now!!"

I thought it was bossy and a bit pushy but you and I both know that I respond to that and enrol immediately, I did.  Whatever depression I was experiencing seemed to lift almost immediately. It was as if, by virtue of finally doing something that turned my frontal lobes on, I was immediately cured. I equate this to ADD where if you allow a person to do the thing he or she really wants to do, concentration is virtually assured. Quite suddenly, I was on my way to having a totally happy life. I finally had some autonomy in my life.

Of course, it won't be a surprise to learn that my relationships are my lifeblood and so I also needed to ensure that I was pleasing; that the moments would be rare that I displeased; that I had the strength to put those moments in their proper place, too. I know it sounds cliche, but in embracing my training, all the training, I  have developed skills that enable me to make both myself and those in my life happy. I can say better what I need and want. As if by magic, 'asking' is a piece of cake. My expectations are reasonable. Stability and accord reign. I don't try to control. I live in peace. I experience much joy.

I hear the medicos talking about depression as if there is a magic bullet they are yet to find. I believe that depression tends to occur when someone cannot cope. Teaching those people strategies to cope may help better than any medication could, at least in some circumstances. I think the author of 'Eat, Pray, Love' discovered that. Sure, the medication was important at first but she learned balance; how to look inside herself to find the answers to a happy life; how to give back to others and love them well; how to find autonomy and be close to someone at the same time.

This was the answer for me in large measure; to go on loving and caring as fiercely as I had always done but to refine my skills at communication; to re-gig my expectations; and as well, to leave aside some space for me to do those things that gave me great satisfaction and joy - learning, writing, the world of yoga and meditation; BDSM/objectification practices. They all sustain and fulfill me.


Of course, what I want out of life is individual to me and probably nothing to do with you. Each reader of these words will have their own goals and wishes for their life. This is entirely right. But, if you do suffer from depression or if life isn't as good as you would like it to be, it pays to think of this day as the first day on the path to the life you want. I think the first step is to acknowledge that there are people who can help you with skills and that you can help yourself by identifying exactly what you want. How do you want your life to look this time next year?

Training

I get a little rush of blood to the head on Tuesdays.  Tuesdays is the day I submit my weekly assignment. It isn't critical that I do that. It could be Wednesday or Thursday for this particular tutor. He's not that fussed, but it works for me to keep to my old deadline from last semester. I need order. Who would have guessed?!

And, it is also an exciting moment to press that "submit" button because I can file away all those articles and documents and feel that I have a little time to myself; maybe only a minute or two, but long enough to venture over here and type away without a strict agenda. I need order but I also need creativity, you see.

So, this is what is on my mind. It occurred to me, via a response to one of the questions of my questionnaire that I think I finally have this notion of "training" figured out. The person answering the question wrote that in the early days he needed to be strict and didactic with his submissive but once he had her operating as he wanted her to do he could relax his approach; words to that effect.

As I was writing my response to the module just now I realized that my current tutor did exactly the same thing with us! At first, he picked us up on every last little mistake. He told me I had misused a comma! He noted every last tiny little mistake in a 1000 words response. There was the odd use of the word "good" but at first it was all about what we did wrong rather than what we did right. I, for one, took umbrance at his approach and made it my mission in life to show him that I could do things excellently. Over time, the tutorial responses to my work became much better until last week they were simply glowing; or as close to glowing as I think this particular man will ever get!

So, that's the deal!! Get them trained according to your rules, regulations and wants and then sit back and enjoy watching the show. Gotcha.

Lovely long nails

When I get my weekly writing assignment in there is a little window of opportunity, before I think about the next one and the major assignment to be done, to have a little fun. Call me strange, but coming to this web journal is what I call fun. So, here I am.

Today has been a good day. I went down to the nail salon and asked for a new set and when it was time to determine the length, I made sure they kept them long; longer, in fact, than I have ever had them before. Times have moved on and I don't have the pleasure of sharing that information with anyone any more. Remember when getting a long set of nails was incredibly hard for me, in spite of expectations? Well, now I don't really have any expectations to deal with, except my own. A set of long nails was what *I * wanted today. I recall that thought actually earlier today as I sat there. It was a little lonely to know that my sharing days were over; that I wouldn't get the pleasure of making someone else happy. But, even so, I knew that I needed very long nails right now and I was entirely correct about that.

For one thing, they are incredibly beautiful. My fingers look amazing and I feel very graceful; contained; at peace. My husband wanted to see them, of course and he wondered if I would be able to manage. "Are you sure you can type all right with them?" he asked. But, I can type perfectly well with them. In fact, I feel more balanced and able with them this length than the way they were before.

It is a strange and wondrous thing how much I took to heart all that I learned over the past couple of years. So much of the 'education' has become ingrained; so much of what I learned feels as if it was always this way; as if *I* was always this way. Of course, I was not always this way. I never pined for long nails before I learned how to have the mindset of a doll. I had no real idea that by being contained in various ways I would find my peace and my contentment. It didn't really occur to me that I was desperately in need of being saved. But, I was. I was desperately in need of being saved.

It is true. I had lots and lots of training. I have changed for good; for the good. But, ohhhh, how utterly marvellous it would be to share such a day as I once did. My goodness, you would think I would stop missing those conversations. But, I strongly suspect, I never shall.

Well treated

It is several months ago since the day that I walked into my doctor's office - at least six months ago actually - and said that I couldn't get control of my emotions; that I felt that I just needed to talk to someone about what I was going through. He'd never seen me remotely, vaguely like that. I had always been in control of myself; always knew what I was doing and how to do it. He made note of the new me.

He listened for a while, thought it a good idea that I see someone and had me go home and do a specific online test that would give him direction to make out a "treatment plan" for the psychologist. I did the test purposely whilst my emotional state was raging. I wanted the results to be entirely honest.

Yet, even in that state, the little weird questions thrown in at odd moments were perfectly clear to me:

Do you ever feel that a voice is talking to you? No.

And later,

"Do you feel that you are under any body's control?"

If I answered "no", there were would be no repercussions. If I answered "yes" they would think me slightly mad. I answered "yes". I did feel under some body's control. I was emotional enough not to lie about that.

A few days later, I returned to my doctor to hear him tell me that I was suffering anxiety and that some of my thoughts were perhaps "paranoid". Here we go. Silly, truthful me.

At the psychologist's office, I was subjected to the scrutiny of dozens of questions all trying to get at my sense of things that I was being "controlled". Who was trying to control me and why did I think that way? This was getting a little out of hand.

I told her I knew what this was all about; that I was in a state that day; that I felt that I sometimes had to do things that I didn't necessarily want to do and that I answered the question that way fully aware that there would be questions about it (and made a mental note to say "no" to all such questions when they asked me to take the online test next time).

The fact is that whilst the therapy has assisted me in many ways, enabling me to talk more than anything else; to talk through issues as well as to explore on my own modes of thinking that may not have been beneficial to me, I was never really able to speak to her about the fact that I was being trained as a doll, that I wanted to experience that and that I was intensely aroused by such thoughts. I was never really able to speak to the issues surrounding my sexuality and the enormous sense of power, happiness and contentment I felt in "letting go" in that way. I was never really able to speak to the fact that I was being strongly encouraged to want what the 'dollmaker' wanted; that his wants became my wants; that his wants became my needs; that in fact he was simply bringing to the surface my own internal desires. I simply knew too well that she was writing down what I said and to her intellectually trained mind it was going to sound oh so "unhealthy".

So, I skirted the issues; spoke of my "submissive bubble" and my contentment therein and discovered that her goal became to break the bubble somewhat and encourage me to be more assertive; that the bubble was okay in the bedroom but not elsewhere. I found myself monitoring things to suit all parties. It was becoming hard work. It was useful. I won't say that it wasn't useful but in the end was I simply giving to her what I felt she wanted to have, too?? Ever the good submissive...

Off the top of my head (and I am typing incredibly fast here) I can't explain exactly how the therapy helped me. She said to me the time before last, "I don't have the answer" so I don't think even she could explain exactly how I was helped. But, I was helped. I was steered in certain directions and seeds were sown in my head that enabled me to feel in control of myself; relieved of my anxieties. I recognized my flaws, I suppose; was able to see clearly that I do experience some anxiety and I felt more able to handle it when it did crop up. I recognize it for what it is now and I self-soothe, primarily. If I am feeling particularly able, I ask for what I need - love and attention - and I feel particularly proud when I am able to do that -  a key goal  of my bimbo training, in fact!

The last few years of my life have been so intense, so rich, so challenging, so full of growth, I think I just needed a time out to digest it all and to figure out the lay of the land. Even the therapy at times was intense and believe me, there were days when I wanted to make the call and say to the psychologist I was done now. Thanks, and ciao! She could really annoy me, but I stuck with it and it is probably good that I did.

I think she feels she's done a good job and I would say she has done a good job. But, here's the rub. I'm still the dolli inside. I still prefer to wear dresses and skirts. I still think of my body as a thing to be used (as often as possible please!). I still fantasize in much the same way as I have done for years and I still feel most whole, most complete when I have been nothing more and nothing less than 'the doll' with zero control, inside or outside the bedroom. But, that is going to have to be our secret because if she knew what we knew, it just wouldn't be at all good.

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.

Reezinz 2 pluggi

Pluggi-n nut jus bizi werk; nut jus sumtin 2 do so dat cuntrolld. It nut werki dat wey 4 bimboz et ull reeeli. Bimboz gibn tesks 2 do dat 4 der own gud n 4 da gud da onnirz 2. In udder werdz, der a reeezin 2 pluggi regooorli. Wel, der sebril reeezinz 2 pluggi regooorli.

But, da most importin reeezin ob ull, dat dis meeenz dat da bimboz bodi redi 4 yoos. In gurl langwich, der onli wun cunt. But, in da land ob bimboz. der three cunts - da pussy cunt, da ass cunt and da mof cunt. Deez musta vayibil at eni tym dat pleeeezz da onnir. Ull da cuntz musta kept cleen n redi 4 yoos.

So, da pluggiz mek dis pussibil. Wen a bimbo pluggiz regooorli, she def vayibil et eni tym 4 da onnir. She feelz no insecoooriti bowt yoos in da ass cunt coz she noz dat it nut hert, dat she ken do ezili n ebin more dan dat, dat it hili pleziribil. She nut worri bowt yoos in dat hol. On da cuntrari, she looki 4werd 2 it, no-n dat it highli pleziribl n xitin 4 her az wel as da onnir.

Heerz a sekrit:wen pluggi regoorli n yoos biggr n biggr pluggiz, da orgazims in da asscunt fantastik!!

In a beri importin wey, da pluggiz garantee dat der lotsa plezir 4 bimboz n lotsa plezir 4 onnirs 2. It wut dey kell a win:win situ8n. cindi herd Vesta sey dat wuns n it reson8d 4 cindi.

It prolli kerd 2 doz reedin deez werdz dat deez posts nut reeeli bimboz ideuh. Ya, nut her ideuh et ull ashooooli. Sins she nut do as told wif her pluggiz whyl she trabelin, dis l'il assersyz 2 get her bak on trak n tinkin bowt doz pluggiz n ull bowt dem in her lyf. "Eni totz dat l'il bimbo hab bowt pluggiz," he sed.

Az da deyz go bi, cindi mor n mor wer dat she nut hab permissin 2 yoos da pluggiz. 2 poot in udder werdz, she 4biddn 2 yoos da pluggiz. Vesta wuns spland dis 2 cindi az 'revers sykologi". Dat 2 sey, wen nut alowd sumtin, peepil ken wanna dat mor n mor.

Wel, it nut kwite da sem 4 bimboz. cindi yoosd her pluggiz lots b4 she talkiz n discubr she nut lowd dem 4 a week. She liki 2 yoos dem n she yoooosd dem lots in da deyz b4 dis ultim8im. Hunnistli, she nut spektn 2 loooz her pluggiz, coz she figooor she alredi suffishinli punishd...

But, dat nut 4 bimbo 2 deeeesyd, rite?! Rite.

Tanki gudness, dis assersyz now obr da haf wey poynt. Dis da forth posts n der 7 rekwyrd b4 da desishin ken med bowt if dey satisfaktori 2 hab pluggiz retirnd.

Nut sur y, sins bimbo reeeeli a wel behayvd bimbo almost ull da tym but da displinn beri strikt! Bimbo hab roooolz n eni disbeedens...eni disbeeedins et ull...tekn beri seriusli. Bimboz spektd wel behayd ULL DA TYM!

4tooniitli, if bimbo sept her displin she 4gibbn n da bed behayvor 4givn n she ken dryv on.

But, lettuce nut 4get, dis displin desynd dat bimbo tinki twys, thrys n 4 tymz obr b4she eber ebin cumsiderz disbeyn gin. So much eeezeeeer n mor kerin 2, 2 jus follo da instrukinz gibn. Dat da tek hom messij.

How 2 pluggi

Der a chenj ob plan owtsyd bimboz cuntrol. Vesta habn rest. Dat paw gurl tinki so much n wurri so much dat she need rest. Dat gud ideuh.

Happili, cindi heer n dis her chans 2 rite bowt her speriensz. Nut onli dat. She heer uuuuuuul week. Yayayayayay!

So, 2dey, cindi wanna rite bowt wut she do eberi nite. Wel, der sum eggsepinz. Wen onnir tel her nut 2 poot in her pluggi coz he wanna yoos her, den she nut. But, on ull da udder nitez (n der few udda eggsepinz 2 da rool, liki now) she pluggi.

Jus l8li, onnir tel her dat sumtymz he liki 2 poot da pluggi in 4 her. Dat nys! But, sumtymz onnir bizi or nut ebin heeer n on ull doz tymz, most tymz so far, cindi poot in her pluggi at ni ni tym.

If nut bimbo, den mebbe nut no dis proces, so dat wut cindi do 2dey - splane how she poot in her pluggi.

Heerz da prosess:

Ferst, in da ebin, afta her showr n wen she redi go bi bi, cindi get Mr. Big or Mr. Ringo. Wich wun depinz on stuf offin owta her cuntrol. But, if gotsa choys, she choos Mr. Big, coz he da perfekt nite tym pluggi - beri cumfertibl but also stil kwite strechi. If, Mr. Ringo, datsa lotsa strechi n dat beri challengn uuuuul nite - beri, beri strechi.

So, lettuce sey she gots Mr Big in her hand. He fit in her han beri nyseli. She can grab him n he fill da palm cindiz han. N, wen cindi holdz Mr. Big in her han, alredi her hed stert 2 tinki bowt da strechi. Dat prolli a bimbo ting.

Cindi tekz Mr. Big n da loob, n a towel n she layz down on da floor on da towel. She coberz Mr. Big wif loooob, uuuuuul obr him, frum top 2 bottim. Den, she lay on her syd - on her left syd - n she poots sum loooob on her asscunt 2.

Cindi tenz 2 lay on her elbo n hol up her hed wif her lef han but den da rest da body on da towel; beri relaxd. Cindi bringz up her neez n offin she fyn dat her rite leg furda bent dan her left leg. It sorta da feetal posishn. Dis beri nateril 2 her.

cindi tek pluggi n pooosh it gentli genst da asscunt, jus 2 get Mr. Big rekwayntd gin n also, it bitva teeeez.

Den, beri slowli she stert to poooosh Mr. Big in2 da asscunt - beri slowli n deliber8li n sureli. She beri stil n silent udder dan da poooosh coz she njoy feeln Mr. Big slowli enter da asscunt n stert 2 tek charj.

It prolli onli bowt twenty secunz l8r, sumtymz mebbe mor, n cindi hab da thik end Mr. Big ul da wey 2 da asscunt entrans.

Now, dis wen da reeeeeel werk beegin. Dis wen cindi stopz n reeeeeeeeli cumcentr8z. Gentli but wif determin8n, cindi poooshz on the end of da pluggi n den she hab pluggi sit der 2 c if he ready 2 go ull da wey in. Sumtym, mebbe haf minut l8r, she feelz a grab. Udder tymz, Mr Big nut kwite redi. 2 hep him, bimbo releees him n den do wun big poooooosh. Eida wey, der a momin beri soon afta dat where she feel him tek obr. She let owt a l'il kwiet groan az he tek obr da asscunt n claim it az his own. 4 a secun, it feelz liki dat it jus 2 big 4 cindi n den a secun l8r it feelz jus rite.

Wen pluggi in his plays, cindi meeeedi8li beegin skueeez - lotsa skeeeeezn coz dat how she treynd - 2 skeeeez lots n lotz. Wif fayswashr she wipe wey eni xsess looooob n den she redi go bi bi. Dis da wey ull wel treynd bimboz sweeepiz.

Erli on, cindi nut abil 2 sweeepi ull da nite. Mr Big wakiz her. He ten 2 do tingz 2 her udder holz 2 dat mek it herd 4 cindi 2 stey sweepiz. Tots invayd her myn n she tinki bowt fuckiz lots.

Now, generili, she ken sweeepiz trew da nite happili wif mr big. But, if told yoooos Mr. Ringo, dat a difrin stori. Mr Ringo beerrrriiiiii strechi stil, n cindi kenna ignor him. He get her reeeeei hot n bothrd stil. Mr. Ringo stil a chalinj 4 cindi ulll nite.

In da morni, cindi wakiz beri happili wif her pluggi. Dat a lubeli wey wakiz 4 her. Sumtymz, she nut tek pluggi owt rite wey. It such a loss sumtymz dat she keep in trew da mornin. Nut ull da tym, but sumtymz, def.

Da gole 4 cindi 2 wer pluggiz mor dan she nut. Dat wonna happin dis week...

Mey hab notissd dat Vesta ken get her nikerz in nut. Dis a sheym. cindi nebr dis wey. Her pluggi pasify bimbo n keep her happi n kerfree. A bimbo wiffowt a pluggi a sed ting coz dis da bimbo swich.

cindi beri happi l'il ting. So herd 4 her 2 unnerstan y wood wanna gurl. Herd 4 cindi 2 unnerstan Vesta sumtymz. She nys gurl az gurlz go, gess...

Hope njoyd lernin how 2 yoos pluggi. Eni kestuns? Til 2moro. Bi bi.

Observation

London is the most wonderfully easy city to visit and I had the pleasure of my daughter's company yesterday as she escorted me around and introduced me to the wonders of Shoreditch. What a vibrant and eclectic area of town!

Astoundingly, we ran into the god daughter of a friend of mine whom I had intended to contact as well as the Italian gay boy who used to live with my daughter. I am delighted to say that I am receiving a healthy number of kisses and cuddles here in London which is some compensation for time without "use" by my husband.

I have had a quick look where David is taking Agnes and I like what I see. Whilst reading his latest offering, something occurred to me and I will share the thought with you.

I have it on good authority that men with dominant personalities like well trained girls. They enjoy the ease, the quiet and the pleasure of it. They find pleasure in the uninterrupted control. A girl who knows her place and enjoys her place is very fine company. It makes sense.

It can appear seamless. The days go by and life goes along swimmingly without friction of any sort. She understands her limits and she is beyond questioning his control and the fitness of things between them.

But, here's the rub. Even the most well trained girl in the world needs a reminder of who (what?) she is and of the sort of man she is involved with. She wants to be good but she also wants to feel it a little more intensely than on a usual day.

She could play up a bit, she could ask for something but even better, she might get lucky and discover that he understands from having observed her so closely that she needs a little tune up; a little dastardly surprise. I liken it to a girl who observes healthy eating patterns but still yearns for a piece of cheesecake every so often.

One of the loveliest qualities of being in this type of relationship is that a girl is well observed and that her needs (as opposed to her wants) are met. Sweet Agnes has been yearning for cheesecake for some time now and thank goodness, Frederick is a keen observer.

Have I wet your appetite?

Agnes - in the afternoon

Agnes was quietly pleased that Frederick approved of what she had prepared for their lunch. She thought of him as a man with sophisticated tastes and she held onto a concern that she may act inappropriately or that he would see her as childish or ignorant. It meant a lot to her that she had pleased him. She smiled and hoped to give the impression that whilst she was pleased he was pleased, it was no big deal; that she could rise to his challenges; that she was capable.

Agnes watched Frederick stretch out on the blanket and she followed his lead. She stretched out on her side facing him and rested her head on her curled arms. They chatted a little about nothing in particular when Agnes quietly giggled at Frederick’s incoherent response. Rather than just not reply to her comment in his nearly asleep state, he mumbled a string of jumbled words back to her.

For a few minutes, Agnes watched him sleep. He seemed a little vulnerable laid out on the blanket, breathing deep and completely unaware of her as he was; his mouth wide open. She felt softly towards him as she studied his features; the way his lips quivered a little as his breathing went in and out; how his hands rested on his chest.

Agnes tried to nap a little herself. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sun on the side of her face. In this public place however, she could not abandon herself to sleep and after a few minutes of just laying there doing nothing she decided to walk whilst he slept. As quietly as a mouse so as not to disturb Frederick she got up off the blanket and took a tour of the gardens, gravitating towards the spot where Frederick had earlier told her off for wandering away. She wanted to explore beyond that spot but the memory of his scolding returned to her and she decided not to proceed.

Agnes loved to be by water; the beach, a lake; even a bath. She heard the sounds of a small waterfall and decided to investigate the pond. She was delighted to find an assortment of fish swimming about in the pond, some surprisingly large. She sat for a while watching them swim before she strolled about the garden, returning back to the blanket every now and then to see if Frederick had woken.

When thirst overcame her she ever so quietly collected the picnic basket from their blanket, took it over to a seat and poured herself a glass of water. She was just putting the water bottle and glass away when she heard Frederick call out to her. He was asking her where she had been and feeling relaxed and happy she began to tell him about what she had seen, but he wasn’t interested.

“I am very disappointed in your behaviour...” she heard him say, and she felt immediately frustrated that she just didn’t understand Frederick’s responses. He was confusing her.

“But, Frederick, I just walked there by the little pond.”

This did not appease him and Agnes remained confused, hurt even, but her instincts told her to apologize in order to bring this scolding to an end. Even her apology was not to his liking. Apologizing was “not good enough” he said and added that when she was with him she was to follow his instructions.

Agnes was challenged by these words. He was sounding like her father on those occasions when she had arrived home late and she didn’t leave home to come to Paris only to have a man she had barely just met speak to her in a way that made her feel like a child when she wasn’t even sure what she had done wrong. Why was he making this fuss about such a tiny thing?

“I don’t understand why you are being so mean. Would you rather I leave?” she asked him. If she was making so many mistakes with him perhaps it was best she go home, she thought. She felt quite disoriented.

Agnes watched in shock as Frederick untied the rope around her waist and cut it into equal pieces. She was speechless.

“Sit down on the bench.”

Agnes could feel her eyes start to tear up but the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Frederick. She had no desire for him to have the satisfaction of seeing that he had upset her and her upset feelings transcribed into defiance.

“No!"

There was a standoff between them as both of them looked into one another’s eyes trying to gauge the other’s resolve and state of mind. When Agnes dug in her heels, Frederick made the concession of asking her to please sit down. At this point, Agnes decided to sit down but she was still unhappy about it.

“Are you going to do as you are told?”

Agnes didn’t want to leave and if she was to stay she understood that she needed to do things his way. He had made it very clear to her that he was in control. She nodded her consent. Just before Frederick removed a bandana and placed it over Agnes’ eyes and tied it tight with three knots at the back of her head, he asked her to “trust” him.

There was something in the lilt of his voice when he said those words that helped Agnes to relax and to follow Frederick’s lead. Her breathing was settling now and her anger was replaced by arousal. Without the sense of sight, she immediately became aware of Frederick’s voice and all the sounds that were surrounding her; the slightest movement in the trees.

He wanted to know if the bandana was comfortable and he told her in advance that he was going to bind her legs and wrists. As the rope was wound around her body, between her thighs and knees and around her wrists, Agnes found herself enjoying the experience more than she could have ever imagined. There was an element of fear, of humiliation and of arousal and put together Agnes found herself in a state of resignation; almost as if she had been captured in some way and that thought was incredibly appealing to her. She dared not allow Frederick to know how much she was enjoying this situation.

When Frederick asked her to put her hands behind her back however, she resisted. It was a battle of wills between them as he pushed her further and further, but each time she eventually acquiesced. When he was ready he told her to sit completely still and to be absolutely silent. This she could do but when he told her that he was leaving her on her own for a time, her sense of vulnerability forced her to beg him not to leave her alone.

“Please don’t leave me on my own; not like this,” she begged him.

Again, Frederick asked her to trust him and again, this quietened her fractious mind for a while. Yet, the time alone seemed indeterminable. It was probably only a few minutes that she sat there still, unable to see or to move, wondering if anyone was looking at her, directly or from behind a bush. For an instant she wondered if Frederick had abandoned her, or if he planned to leave there for a very long time. She didn’t know where he was, what he was doing and when he would return.

Agnes began to feel very hot and uncomfortable. She felt the need to make the best use possible of her ears and she strained forward and focussed intently for any sound at all that might alert her to what was happening beyond the world of her darkness and imprisonment.

When Agnes heard Frederick’s voice again telling her to remain still but that he was going to untie her hands, she felt an enormous sense of relief that he had returned to her. He was telling her that she would feel some movement, to not be alarmed, to stay still and now that Frederick had returned she was in no doubt that she could comply with his instructions.

She was really listening to his words this time and paying attention to his instructions. He told her not to be alarmed and so she programmed that as understanding that there was no danger and that whatever was happening, she could manage, so long as Frederick was there. She allowed her mouth to unclench and she relaxed her tongue. She did her best to let herself go and put herself in his hands.

“Everything is under control. I have the situation completely in hand,” she heard him say and this put her mind at ease. In the same way that she entered an aeroplane and put her life in the hands of the pilot, allowing herself to settle into the role of one of his responsibilities, so she put her life now in the hands of Frederick. In that role of submitting to a force higher than herself, she felt at peace.

When Frederick took the blindfold away from Agnes’ eyes and told her that she could open her eyes, she had no idea what to expect. When she saw in front of her at very close range a large black cat, a tigress she froze in fear of what could possibly happen next. Her mind went blank and now her brain was responding only to self preservation instincts. She stayed completely immobile because it seemed the best option.

Agnes would have been petrified but for Frederick’s complete lack of concern, his light banter and encouragement to reach out and touch the cat. It helped her immensely that he was rubbing into her tight neck and shoulder muscles, too. Put together, Agnes registered that this was in no way a dangerous situation, even though she remained frightened.

He encouraged her to reach out and touch the cat, sliding his hand down her arm to persuade her to move it forward to touch the cat. Agnes’ family had always had at least one cat at home and she was familiar with what they liked. Tentatively, she brought her hand forward and rubbed it into the fur, and then when she could see that the cat had no objection, she rubbed it behind the ear; a move which was much enjoyed judging by the deep rumble coming from her chest.

Frederick was smiling, clearly pleased that the two of them had an appreciation for one another and Frederick chatted away softly, explaining that since he had introduced Agnes to Sheaden in his company, there was no risk. But, if she had gone off on her own and come across her, she would have not had the same reaction to her at all; that as long as Agnes was in Frederick’s company, Agnes did not present as a threat.

For several minutes Frederick sat on the bench beside Agnes and seemed to enjoy the two girls’ interacting with one another. He was smiling and there was pride in his eyes. They were a delight to watch as they frolicked with one another and Agnes appeared totally relaxed and calm around Sheadan now.

It was Frederick who finally said that it was time for Sheadan to go back to her shed now; that he would take Agnes for some dinner and return her home. Agnes said good bye to the cat and watched Frederick walk her back to her home. She had a sense that Frederick was a man who could expose her to a great many new experiences. The thought enticed her and she hoped that very soon he would begin to teach her things and show her things. She didn’t know what she meant really. She knew very little about what was on offer to her. All she knew was that she was open to experiencing whatever he should choose to offer her.