Intent

It is all about if I can feel his intent; his own desire to want to insist that I do what he says to do. Lost in a dreamy world of sleep much needed, I feel him awaken me with a desire to play. Even though for me it could go either way – I could easily go on enjoying the deep, heavy slumber – I know that I have no choice and the fact that I have no choice appeals and stirs me.

He tells me he wants to spank me but that first he wants to feel my mouthcunt around his cock. I oblige. He asks me to ask for my spanking and I do so. He grants my request. He enjoys hearing my whimpers, I think; tells me that I am sorely out of practice. I like it when my breathing becomes laboured; when I am challenged. There is something deeply soothing about the discomfort and the ultimate pain.

For a man who has not made it routine to do this lately, he seems quite enamoured with the process. Even though he has filled my mouthcunt with a plastic cock gag, he tells me how much he enjoys the sounds I emit; my attempts to ride out the sensations by biting on the plastic cock, something I would never consider doing to his cock. He tells me every now and then what courage it takes for a man to give his cock to his girl’s mouthcunt. Just like a mother would not allow harm to come to her baby, a woman knows not to harm the man’s cock. He has nothing to fear.

I can see nothing. My eyes are covered by a chord tied tight. He tells me he wants me to go to the corner, something he hasn’t asked for a very long time. It’s not easy for me to accept this childlike endeavour. I’ve grown unaccustomed and ill-prepared for such a game. Today, I only want to please; to do whatever he says to do. But, I have no bearings. I mumble that I can’t see. He will direct me he tells me and I get down from the bed and on my hands and knees. “A little to the right,” he informs me and later, “Now, put out your hand and rise up.” I love the sensation of being directed and I fold my hands behind me as he says to do; put my nose to the cold wall, as he says to do. I wonder what objection I had to this play in my mind. It is arousing me so today.

Before long he tells me to return to the bed; tells me that seeing me there in the corner with my red ass on display is making him hungry. When I make my way back up to the bed it is to make my way over a high stack of pillows. As yet, I have no idea if this is now about his pleasure or mine; whether his intention is for this to be long or short.

I am soon enlightened. His appetite has taken over and he wants only to plunder me and ride me and cum. I feel his mind release and allow his body to do what comes naturally; to ride wild and free and to take what is his; what belongs to him. I wallow in the process; thrilled that he has put himself first; that his thoughts are not about me. If it happened every time I would feel underprivileged. That he is such an attentive lover allows me to revel in his lustful abandon now.

We are told that it is the bottom’s task to ask for what she needs and I know I have to do this. We’ve talked about this. We continue to talk about the fact that I must advise him when my needs are overwhelming my state of mind. Most likely, such a talk enabled and led to this play. But my mind demands that it is the top who makes the ultimate decisions; that my role is to experience and make way for what the top wants; not what I want.

Of course, I want it too.  I know this. He wants it because I want it. I asked for it. But, if he didn’t enjoy reducing me, I would not reduce. I need to feel that desire to see me captured and caught. Only then can I feel removed from the real world; subsumed in a place where I feel completely safe and serene.

These experiences settle me; contain me; make me feel enriched and uplifted. Without them, I am only a shadow of myself.

Blessings

Frank cuts my hair. He’s early 30s; Italian; gay. We get on very well; the conversation always flows effortlessly. But, last week the conversation reached a new level of depth. I could tell immediately when he began talking that something significant had changed in his life. 

He started from the beginning. He’d moved in with a person who also worked at the salon. She was there with him all day at work and at night in the apartment. He felt imprisoned in a situation that he had come to detest. Unable to speak to anyone about it, he felt he was going slowly mad.

A good friend of his, a single mother was to come to him for a weekend in the big city. Frank lives right in the heart of the area where there is an abundance of wonderful cafes and restaurants, beautiful stores; great entertainment. But, he told her he didn’t think it would work this weekend, given the situation. She immediately suggested he come to her in the country. It isn’t really Frank’s style but something told him to go, he said.

The clever girl involved a friend in the weekend; a woman who is into meditation and healing and it was this woman who said “What’s the matter Frank?” She was sitting in the back seat; he in the front. He didn’t answer. “It is a relationship, isn’t it Frank?” “Yes, it is,” he heard himself say.

They took him for a walk; a very special walk up 1000 steps. Then, they took him to a place where he joined them for a group meditation. He said he found it extraordinarily easy to do; that it was the most blissful, wonderful and enlightening experience. 

I think it was probably clear to them that Frank was open to this; that all he needed was to be shown how to find his own internal happiness and salvation. They had a healer work on him, giving him love and they also had him come to a sort of church service where the person leading the service said that he had noticed Frank; felt his energy all the service and that he had messages for him; that his grandmother in Italy was proud of him; that she was proud that he worked with his hands and carried the family name.(They worked on the basis, without knowing anything about Frank that he had not truly believed that his family had accepted that he was gay.)

The whole time he was telling me this story (and I can’t type it all because he was telling me so much so fast, I can’t remember it all at this moment) he was the most animated he has ever been. I know this will sound odd but in the few months since I had seen him last, his hair had grown curly and now his eyes were beaming with life. He really was a much, much happier man.

He told me all this because he knows I have studied the chakras and meditate and so on. He doesn’t know that I am really ‘a doll’ but he senses something, for sure.

He told me about his past; about his mother. When his father divorced his mother, it sent her into a deep depression and she has been in a psychiatric hospital several times. The youngest son, he felt obliged to mother his mother all this time but he told me that he has learned that he must tell her now that it is time for her to act like the mother and for him to act like the son.

He kept me at the salon long after my hair was cut; playing with it so that it looked like he was still working when he was really just wanting to talk. He told me he was going to Bali to a meditation retreat and I asked him for the details since it is a great passion and desire of mine to do that. I am sorely tempted to go with him!

We reached a very new level of friendship on that day, Frank and I. He showed me how to hug, heart to heart, and we practiced it several times, much to the amusement of the busy salon that late afternoon, I suspect, but who cares?

He walked me to the door. “I love you Frank,” I said. I don’t recall what he said in reply because I was too busy watching how his face softened to hear those words. It all felt much deeper than the relationship I have with people I have been socialising with regularly for years. I was on a high myself. This sort of interconnecting with another human being is so very special and important to me.

This morning I read over a chat between D and me. I was wearing Mr. Ringo and I was clearly very, very happy – on the high of being so low. It had come out and it talked in the way that only it can. It is a slut, no doubt about that and it is giving, peaceful; ditzy; happy. It is the best of me.

The opportunity to interact with people who have explored the workings of their inner lives and come to terms with themselves in a way that allows them to shine and to spread joy is a wonderful gift for me. It makes my life rich. It makes me realize I have so much more to learn; so much more to give. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Cindiz Krissmis list

It now almost 6 monthz sins cindi on her own. Der few occasionz wen she ken cum owt n pley of cors but dey much mor limitd now. N, she hab beri few limitz. Der nut reeeli enewun soopervyzn her. Nebrdrless, she reeeli a well traynd dolli in lotsa weyz n der sumtingz ebin a dolli nevr 4getz. 4sampel, cindi wood nebr yoos no no werds heer, or enewher else. She noz dey nut 4 her.

Dolliz tri beri herd nut 2 cumplane. Dey tri herd 2 unnderstan da peepil, da hoooz arown dem, n wut dey want, n dey tri herd jus 2 go on az best dey ken. But, dis so so hard 4 cindi 2 nut hab da interakn wif doz speshel hooooz hoo unnerstan her; hoo unnerstan dat dis da reeeel entiti; dat da gurl jus a mask 4 da reeeeel dolli insyd her. So, 2 nut hab dis interakn beri much liki a littil def. It takz a gr8 deeel of will 4 cindi 2 demand of hesssef dat she hab a voys in da werld n dat she jus nut swampd by vesta n bi eberibodi els in da werld, ebin bi doz most close 2 her.

It seeemz dat god lookd down on cindi n saw dat she in such need n he desydd 2 gif her a speshel presint; a new fren hoo unnerstanz her beri wel n ncurijjz her 2 liv. She beri gr8fil 4 dis. He encurrijjz her 2 membe dat cindi dat reeel livin entiti, n dat beri much da case. cindi in floodz of teeerz ritin dis coz it feeeelz so gud 2 jus let dis owt; 2 spress da payn insyd.

If cindi greedi, der lotsa lotsa tings she cood esk 4 Chrissmis. Dolliz liki booootifill tingz - lace n silk n shooooz n leather n latex tingz. But, der onli wun ting she wan. She wan 2 liv. N, she wan talkiz wif doz beri beri few peeepil in da hole wide werld hoo unnerstan cindi n appresh8 her 4 her dumdum sef. If she ken haf dat, den ull da udder tingz superflooooous.

cindi risin up 2 dey 2 esk, 2 esk beri polyteli 4 da ting she wan. She hopz dat Santa Klaus lissenin 2 her.

Merri Krissmis everiwun!

A keen student

I should not be here. I should be over there, writing my response for this week's assignment. I'm doing 'Journalism' now and as interesting as it is, I am too tired to write a serious article; too tired to think about newspapers and the role of the media; of how the greed of shareholders may be the enemy of good service to readers, and so on and so on. Better to do that first thing in the morning when my thoughts are cogent; when I feel a big girl in the big, wide world.

Right now, I feel tired from drinking wine at lunch; never a good idea for me when I need to work. So, to hell with the work. I am going to day dream instead...

I'm a woman in her mid 30s and I have fallen in love with a man around twenty years older than me. We met via a friend who invited me to a party in the country and that's where I met  Joe.  The courtship was something of a whirlwind. I acted entirely on my instincts and sense of happiness and adoration for him and we married in a small ceremony in the local church.. Naturally, I moved to the country since he was well established on a large cattle farm in the centre of the country and there was never a thought that we would live anywhere else. It was well understood that I was joining him in his life.

He was very kind to me and highly attentive and I was blissfully happy; deeply in love with him. As time passed I came to see that he was set in his ways and I had no choice but to accept that we would do things his way.  Of course, I made efforts to steer him to my way of thinking on matters that were important to me and he was generous about that. He seemed to enjoy giving into me on the little changes I wished to make to the household. I would ask very nicely if I may have this or that, or if we could do this or that. He seemed to enjoy allowing me little indulgences and alterations, as if I were a child and he were the indulgent parent. I confess I played up to this; being sweet and smiling prettily and getting my way.

But, he was clearly the boss and I never considered second guessing him on matters pertaining to the running of the farm. If he told me to close the gate behind the cows, I did so. If he told me not to go near a certain horse because he was afraid I may be kicked, I stayed well away. He enjoyed teaching me about life on the farm and I enjoyed being under his tuttelage. "Good girl," he would say when I managed to tie the knot the way he had demonstrated or when I learned to drive the motor bike precisely as he had shown me. My life was a joy every day as I learned to fit in to my new life as his helpmate.

Perhaps six weeks into the marriage, my husband called me into his study just before I was ready to serve dinner and had me sit by the fire. He handed me a glass of red wine.  He told me of how proud he was of me; that I had settled so beautifully into the country life. He patted me on the head and I purred with satisfaction. He moved his chair closer to me.

"Darling?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm?"

"I feel like spanking you."

His words had an instantaneous response on me. I was aroused but shocked; a little afraid. I needed to understand what he meant.

"Have I displeased you, Joe?"

Not at all, my darling. I just wish to spank you for my own pleasure."

"Ohhhhh. Would it hurt, Joe?"

"I'm afraid so; yes."

"Darling, I want you to do whatever pleases you."

"That's my girl. You are sure?"

"Yes, Joe, I am sure."

Joe sat down on a hard, wooden chair and he had me take off my panties, lift up my dress and bend over his knee. I felt very strange  exposed in this way but I wanted to please my new husband and would never have considered denying him this pleasure. For a minute or so, he spanked my bottom, alternating from cheek to cheek with his hand and I wondered what the fuss was all about. It was a pleasurable, light sensation and I rather liked it. Every dozen or so smacks, he would rub my cheeks smooth with his palm. It was quite lovely. Having never been spanked before I had expected something quite unpleasant but this was very pleasurable.

Then, he stopped.

"Now, it is time for me to use a paddle. This may hurt a little, darling. You don't mind?"

"No, no, Joe. I don't mind."

From the first swat of the paddle, I realized that this was an entirely different sensation. It stung quite considerably.

"Owww"

"Be a good girl, now. It will be over soon," he told me.

And so, I told myself to be brave and to be good and to accept this sting. But, over a minute or so, the sensations built and I was breathing heavily. This stung like blazes!!

"Owwwww. Owwwwwwwwwww," I repeated over and over again.

I didn't want to move out of the range of paddle. I wanted to move out of the range of the paddle. I didn't know what I wanted at all.  I was just trying to be good and to hang on."

"There's a good girl," I heard him say at one stage and later, "Not long now, darling. It won't be much longer."

When he finally put down the paddle and rubbed my stinging skin I felt that my ass was on fire. But, the thing about that was that it wasn't exactly a horrible sensation. I rather liked the feel of the heat and I felt extraordinarily close to Joe. My entire body and mind was profoundly aroused in a new way and my first reaction was to sit up and kiss Joe longingly on the lips. He returned the kiss and then he said:

"Did the young lady enjoy that?"

"Not telling," I said

"Did the young lady enjoy that?" he repeated.

 "Possibly..."

"Did the young lady enjoy that?" he asked again.

"The young lady did."

He smiled a devilish, wicked smile; one that instinctively had me smile back.

"Ahhh, Mildred, I have so much to teach you; so much to show you...so many things to do to you...!"

"Hurry, Joe, hurry. Show me right now."

"Patience, darling. You must have patience. Let's have dinner first."

"Dinner? You want to eat?"

"Come, darling. If you are polite and obedient, I'll show you a good time after dinner."

"All right, Joe. Let's eat!"

In the forest

I have been reading about bi-polar lately, a brain disorder where there are unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels and the ability to carry out daily tasks. A person with this condition can go from intense emotional states where they might be overly joyful to a state where they are extremely sad. I definitely don't know enough about this condition to say anything prescriptive about it. However, it does seem to be the case that many people who are diagnosed with the condition are medicated, but not all that much occurs in terms of looking at what can be done with the unbearable thoughts people may experience.

With bi-polar it seems that people can move from an emotional state where they think that everything is hopelessly damaged to one where they think that life is wonderful. The feeling that "life is wonderful" can appear as a piece of 'magic' because the depressive thoughts have lifted; vanished. And, who wouldn't  be thrilled about the fact that this has happened?

It also appears that this "magic" can evolve via some formula devised by the person. It might be a different job or career; perhaps a new deal or financial break or success. It might be a new love or sex with a new person. It might be a gambling win, alcohol or drugs or it might be a shopping spree. It might be a bout of BDSM; the opportunity to bind or be bound; to whip or be whipped; to be used or to use. I'm not saying I know anything special here. I am just speculating, opening the door to a thought...

Lately, I have been working with my cravings for BDSM; rather than giving in to the idea that I must be given some BDSM experience or I can't be happy, I have sat with the notion that it is not currently available to me. At first, it did feel hopeless. It was a deeply disturbing feeling and I often felt sad; frustrated; lonely.

I've practised sitting with this unpleasant feeling and there has been a change in my thinking. Rather than try to flee from the unpleasant thought I have begun to submit to the feeling. My life is currently not operating on a optimal level but I am in some strange way developing new inner resources to deal with that. I am not blissfully happy but I am looking at my reality square in the face and I am developing the inner resources to cope without falling into depressive thoughts about my current situation. This sense of things leads me to understand (to have the conscious thought) that nothing last forever and that things will get better. I can realistically expect that I can have wonderful BDSM experiences some time in the future. Just not right now.

What I am trying to say to anyone out there listening to me is that if you have intolerable emotions and feel that your situation is hopeless, rather than go looking for the magic bullet to cut yourself off from those extremely uncomfortable emotions, maybe you should sit with them for a time. Over time, you may discover that they are not so intolerable after all. Your feelings may not be so black. You may come to see that with a more realistic sense of what is going on internally and what ways you find to alleviate those awful feelings, there is a more measured thought to calm you; there is a deeper relationship with yourself; a stronger, more resilient self.

When we are in a forest, it can be hard to see anything but trees. But, if you let yourself sit back and view the horizon, things can become more clear. Life may not be perfect but it is not hopeless either. We can anticipate better days. This too will pass.

Good Enough

What is in the past is done.

There is no need to hide the scars from me.

I accept your pain. I embrace your sadness and sorrows.

They are a part of you and I love your vulnerability too.

None of us is perfect. No- one is complete,

until we share thoughts that we try to hide from ourselves.

You are not perfect and neither am I.

But, you are good enough.

You are my light, my love; my partner in life.

Allow my acceptance to balance you and protect you

from all “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.

Together we are safe. Together we are good enough.

Family ties

I went up north for the weekend - without my husband and with my mother and aunt. It was totally exhausting - all that talking, all that being nice and all that checking about what they wanted to do and how they wanted to do it! But, it was incredibly worthwhile. My brother was in a show and I would not have missed seeing him for the world. Most importantly, I know it meant a great deal to him to have us there.

Just before we left the theatre and said our goodbyes, for we were leaving for the airport the next morning, I gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear that I was very proud of him and happy for him that he is so happy. We don't see a lot of one another but growing up, there was just the two of us and I feel very close to him on some deep, emotional level that I find hard to put into words. Of course, I teared up when I said that and tried to move on before anybody could be aware of that. More vulnerability on display; more uncomfortableness with that...

I'm operating on so little sleep, by my standards anyway. I lay there in my big empty bed listening to the waves of the Pacific Ocean and I found myself with an over thinking brain. I was thinking about my brother and my Dad; my mother; my husband and I; my daughter and her new man...well, I was thinking about everything really well into the night.

I confess I felt sad. My brother has built a good life up there: one where he works hard (and he enjoys what he does) but one where he enjoys simple pursuits to the max. He has a caravan (trailer) that he loves to take into the outback with his wife. He has a truck. So excited about this truck was he that he pointed out to us on the way to show us his house (simple but comfortable) exactly where he had bought the truck. He has also bought a motor bike. Well, he didn't show us that. My youngest niece spilled the beans there because I am sure he had no intention of my mother knowing that he had bought a machine that only "one way men" ride.

I'm not remotely jealous. He's my young brother and I have never felt that emotion about him. I am overwhelmingly happy that he is happy. What I felt myself experiencing was a wish that we could embrace this rather simple notion of living.

When I returned home I raced over to my older son's house to collect my youngest son from there and I was sufficiently antsy about things to mention my concerns to my eldest son. It is most unlike me to do this. In typical fashion, I keep those concerns to myself, or else I tell you. I asked him if he could reiterate to my husband that he needed to be less hard on himself; to be less demanding of himself and to enjoy himself more. My husband would adore a motor bike but the question is, would he ever allow himself such an indulgent luxury? 

Later, I felt tremendous guilt about having done that. My husband told me that our son was preparing this weekend, all weekend, for a very important business meeting with a client and on reflection I recalled the passing thought that my eldest son had seemed haggard and fraught looking.

I sent him an email smoothing things over and wishing him well for the meeting and he replied right back that on the contrary, it was good to talk and he had made a mental note of what I said. He admitted that he worries about work too and that as a older person now he can understand that just as "Dad" feels the weight of the responsibility of the family, he can feel torn when his girlfriend is about the house and  he feels the need to prepare for meetings. He also said that he knew for certain that "what Dad wants most in the world is for you to be happy". What I want most in the world is for my husband to be happy. Quite the co-incidence!

Then, there was the conversation with my daughter to consider. I said to her on Skype that I wondered if she would spend more time at the boyfriend's house once they are home (very soon!) or would he spend more time with us. She replied that she hoped that he would consider our house the base but she felt it would probably be the other way around.

It is silly but in that moment I felt that I had lost her. That's just a silly thought because we will always be very close. But, this man is the real deal, I think: "the one", and what he says goes. I can hardly believe the changes in her. She uses totally different words."He would not allow it" is one of the sentences she has typed lately. Their dynamic is well in place and totally agreeable and complementary to both of them.

As much as I adore her and am proud of her I must admit she did have a temper when she left for Europe 18 months ago and I got the brunt of it quite often. Not now! The new man put her straight. If she was tired or not feeling in a good mood, that was okay, he told her. But, she had no right to transfer her mood onto him. And, if she didn't like his suggestion as to what they would do on the weekend that was okay too. She was welcome to reject it, so long as she verbalized what she did want to do.

We were talking on Skype recently when she sort of cut me off quick and said, "Mum, I better clean up the apartment before P gets home." And, she has started painting and drawing again, at his suggestion: something I couldn't motivate her to do for the love of money. In short, she is besotted with him and could not be more poor right now, or more happy!

We are all very, very close and my marriage is very close; very intense. It sometimes gets off kilter and maybe that is because I have a sense that my husband could be happier and he has a sense that I could be happier and then we get a little unbalanced for a time until we take in again in a conscious way that our happiness depends on us both feeling that we are taking care of one another sufficiently well; that each  of us is happy with the other.

We talked a little with each other around these sentiments and my husband happened to say at one point that he was cross with himself about something. That gave me the opportunity to repeat those particular words; to point out that he was much harder on himself than anyone else and that sometimes in life we just needed to let things go; to give ourselves a break and accept that we were not perfect; never would be perfect.

I only have so much opportunity to effect change. We are who we are. We all look through our eyes but what we see is very different. It is the best reason I can think of that man should find a mate: so that we can save one another from ourselves - at least, as far as that is possible.