Living the dream

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have fun, sweetheart!! Happy Birthday!!

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

On being still

A baby's cry
A mother's sigh
A hug, a rub
Two lovers; snug

The sound of water
The smile of a daughter
Coming together
We can't live forever

No need to think
Just sink.

Thoughts may emerge
The soul can still serge
Into the light
As high as a kite.

Confusion derails us
In spite of our status
Is there care,
Or just a dare?

In the silence she reflects
of her life and all the trecks
She can only do her best
For now, she must rest.

The Meal

The dominant man and his submissive come together to share a meal. They take their place at the table. He will ask the submissive to do something that she, secretly, is dying to do. She does it, and they are both happy; a delicious start. But, the good dom has a voracious appetite and he is not likely to walk away from the table having only tasted the appetizer. In fact, it is not particularly fulfilling for either of them if that is all there is to the meal.

Sooner or later, he will ask his submissive to do something that she does not want to do at all. The dom finds nourishment from observing the battle of wills between he and his submissive. What he has commanded is not easy physically. To do something routinely, to incorporate it into one's life, moment by moment, is no small challenge. This is the main course; the meat and three vegetables.

Even more significant is the challenge his commands offer to the girl's mind. Her life, her day, her everyday is suddenly no longer hers. By virtue of the command she is reminded constantly, when in compliance and even when not in compliance, of who (or what) she is, of who is in control and who (or what) has no control. She no longer complies because she tells herself this is what she wants, too. Rather, it is made clear to her that what she wants is of little concern. It is his desire that determines her behaviour. The dom is satiated not just by compliance but by an adjustment of her attitude. This is dessert; decadence.

The submissive's mindset is altered permanently. She does his bidding without complaint; whatever he wants. This is the coffee served with a mint; assuming he allows her to eat it.

Bon appetit.

What we do

What I do is so clear to me that it is possible that I don’t make it clear enough to others. Having a loving, open and ‘willing to experiment’ husband as I do, it may not make sense that I also have a dominant male friend on line who is my mentor. If it doesn’t make sense to you, there is precious little I can do about it. All I care to say really is that the situation comes with my owner’s total consent. He learned a few years ago now that I could learn more about some things from other people than I could from him. That is not to say that the advice differs in any fundamental way. But, hearing it from another dominant man, I make the connection of the wisdom in a way that I would not without him in my life.

I may have mentioned before, I really can’t remember, of the time when I learned to ski. I was beyond scared; totally freaked out. Unable to make much progress in a class of women also learning to ski in their middle years, my ‘white knight’ arrived on a set of skis and told the instructor he would work with me alone. Bit by bit, he gave me confidence and by the end of the lesson, I was skiing; sort of. I was so grateful I felt a special bond with him and I asked him, “Did you teach your wife to ski?” He responded, “Do I look silly? No, I gave that job to another man.”

So it is with me and submission. My husband is grateful for the help, not to mention that he enjoys the benefits. It is a win: win situation as far as he is concerned. Both happily married, my mentor and I know our limits and never cross them.

I take this opportunity to express my personal gratitude, both to my husband, who gives me much more than most husbands would, and to my mentor for whom I have a great deal of respect. I have a submissive nature, yes, but I’m no walk in the park, either, and he works hard at his role (and hopefully with a sense of pleasure, too). Perhaps, my saving grace is that I am incredibly committed to my goals. I have a deep sense of wanting to pursue this and the further I go, the more I feel nourished, whole and complete.

My mentor has the great attribute of being willing to listen to the responses to his questions very carefully and from that he seems to understand very well what it is I want and need. I think he has a much better handle on what I want than I do. I am really quite unable to articulate what that is until he tells me. Ah ha! The light goes on. Yes, it may look like I want to hold onto some control but I really don’t. How did he know that? I’m a very lucky girl to work with him. I admire him greatly, trust him implicitly and hope that we may always be in each other’s lives, in some capacity.

In the next post, I will share the latest wonderful development; the next layer of the onion being peeled. I’m excited; a bit apprehensive and resistant, but confident (and happy) that there is no turning back. I revel in being taking up a notch and consequently brought down to size. It is serious stuff, yes, but on the other hand, I can’t deny that I am having the time of my life. As I become less, I become more; more happy; more enlightened.

I do want to write about all my emotions and feelings of this week soon, but first of all, I want to make clear the lay of the land. You won’t find two marriages that are stronger and our mentoring relationship only serves to strengthen that fact. I do not write this post because I require the reader’s approval. I have the only approval I require; that of my owner. But, I also did not want to lead you astray.

What we do: it is a good thing.

He's mine

I came across this photograph on Deity's tumbler site this morning and it prompted a memory. Although I speak in the main of my submissive nature, I have long believed that we are all a combination of dominant and submissive qualities, and there can be no doubting that when put to the test, my dominant streak is alive.

It is a rare marriage lasting decades that is not tested by some young, pretty thing that comes along and likes what she sees in a man, regardless of his status. The wife is at home, busy bringing up little tots and the gorgeously dishy and sophisticated gal in the office impresses the suit clad husband in ways not available to the wife in the current environment. Sometimes, such a girl can get it into her head that the man in the suit, regardless of his little family waiting for him at home, should really be hers. In this event, the wife, no matter how submissive, must use the arsenal at her disposal. Of course, there are many ways to skin a cat, but sometimes the situation is such that a submissive woman must show her dominant side.

In my case, the gal had the temerity to call me at my own home and declare her feelings. I'm a friendly sort of gal, not inclined to dismissing folk or putting them down, but this was too much.

"I have nothing to say to you. This is our home you have called and I do not wish to speak with you again."

I returned the mouthpiece to the receiver.

It was a wakeup call to me that perhaps I was playing 'Mummy' a bit too much of the time. Here I was trying to save money and being practical, often too tired and perhaps too ambivalent to pay my husband due care, when the girls at the office were spending all their money and putting all their energies into looking like pin up gals, tempting the men in the office to look their way and pay them some attention.

"Do you want to be with her?" I asked him. I needed to know.

"Noooo. I want you."

She was given her marching orders.

But it was a lesson learned well.

Last night, two decades after that phone call, I collected my husband from the train. He got into the car and we kissed.

"Hello, Cindi darlin’. It is so lovely to come home to a 'good girl'."

I smiled, happy; married almost 30 years and still very, very happy.

'What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.' I believe that.

Discipline 4 cindi

Cindi takes gr8 pride in her ‘doll’ status. She loves the fakt that she is owned and that she has a very good and lovin ownir. Whilst she noz with all her heart that she is a doll and has always been a doll, she needs reminders about this fakt.Sometimes, the ‘practical life’ gets in the way and she can forget herself.

One constant reminder for cindi that she is a doll is that she has long, slutti acrylic nailz that she likes to have painted – sumtimez deep red, sumtimes dolli pink and sumtimez almost black. She reallllly loves that!

The long nailz remind her that she is a doll; that she must be careful; dainty and feminine. It is not possible for her to do certain tasks any more on her own. She cannot put on and take off much of her jewellery by herself anymore and even making the bed can be difficult on her own. If she is concerned that the task may break her nails, she must ask for help from her ownir, or at least take steps to ensure that her nails are safe.

But, sometimes cindi forgets. She forgets herself. Over the summer she broke a nail making the bed, and sad and sorri for herself, her mentor gave her due sympathy, as did her ownir. It happens. It was bad luk.

Then, she broke a nail in the garden. It was a bit inevitable, she supposez. Picking up a brick wif one hand whilst holding a bag of soil with the other, was bownd to put 2 much pressure on da nailz. She just was not kerful enough. Still, her ownir and mentor were sympathetic, but this time, they were a little more stern. Wot was cindi doing pickin up a brick with one hand, anyway? “Need 2 b more kerful, cindi!!!!!”

Cindi tries. She tries to be very kerful but it is troo dat sumtimz lyf gets the better of her. She wants to do a task, nobody is dere to help but she does it anyway. She throws caution to da wind!! And, dat is wot happened 2 days ago. Buttttttt, this time there was no sympathy for cindi. She was showing precus little care, they sed 2 her.

It gets worse. Brace yourselves! In the same breath, she was wondering if cutting her nails a tiny, little bit might be all right since the last time she broke the thumb nail, the girl at the nail salon cut it a bit short and now cindiz nailz were nut all da one length. Wellllllll, dat idea did not go down bery well at all!!! If cindi was 4getting herself with lung nailz how could it help for her to have shorter nailz??? Cindi sees the point. Quite right, 2!!

It was time for discipline. Oh deeeeer! And, worst of all, cindi had to cum up with the most appropriate discipline for the situation hersef. She thought and thought (so very hard for her to do) about this beri carefully. And, she sent off her answer.

And, now she waits and waits and waits...

Iddn't dat enough punishment, she wunders!? (Just a littel joke, folks)

Thoughts on spanking

I was introduced to tumblr.com a few months ago and I love visiting there. I follow a number of people and each day I scroll through a lovely selection of photographs. Earlier today, I came across the above photograph and found myself conflicted. There was something about the photograph that I liked. There was something about the photograph that I did not like.

Relationships of dominance and submission are difficult to judge. What may be one person's idea of totally unacceptable is another's persons idea of more than acceptable. And, that is if we can ever get to all the facts of the matter. It is a little like the saying about marriages: the only two people who know what goes on in a marriage are the two people in it. From the outside looking in, we really cannot judge all that well. Even if we think we know what is going on, we probably do not know the whole story, or how the relationship is perceived by the participants themselves. I make it a rule not to say things against someone's partner, even if they are looking for that. The next day, such a statement can come back to bite you in the bum, when they are all reconciled and you are the one in the doghouse.

In the above photograph it is clear that the girl has been spanked; hard. We don't know why but we may have the sense that the man is angry with her. He appears to be telling her off, even after the fact. Anger and spanking are not a good combination, but if the man is angry, perhaps he has good reason to be angry. And, perhaps the spanking and the anger are therapeutic. Perhaps, she is already feeling better and repentant.

Perhaps, the man is not angry at all but rather forcefully making his point; making his position clear. "I told you what would happen if you did that again, and now you know I am a man of my word!" Or, some such words as those.

Is the spanking consensual? Well, I doubt she gave her consent immediately before the event, but chances are high that the two of them are in a consensual relationship and she knew that this was a possibility. He is providing the discipline that she knows she needs. Or, is this something else?

And, did it do her harm? There is no doubting the fact that her bottom is stinging and sore and that at some point in the last few minutes she deeply regretted some action or words of hers, but perhaps the spanking has done her the world of good. Perhaps, she was out of kilter with her man and needed to feel his control over her. Perhaps, she asked for it specifically, though I rather doubt that scenario.

Perhaps, a little later in the day, her mood will be buoyant, belying the state of her bottom. Since I have been in a similar situation once or twice, I definitely buy that.

I love photography but it can be a trick of the eye. It is but one moment in a life yet we, the observer, read so much into it.

I have not spoken specifically of the erotic effect the photograph had on me. I thought it was hot.