Pleasure in the pain

It's the middle of final year exams here right now and there's plenty of serious study going on and also some light relief; a sort of pain/pleasure mix. We've an interesting and bizarre system here where a cohort's score can raise your score up or bring it down. This is not well understood by most students who hold onto material themselves, loathe to share their good ideas.

My son knows better. His score was reduced for a final year creative subject he took last year because his cohort didn't do well in the exam, so this year he determined that the Drama class understood this and he initiated Skype chats where they shared answers and ideas. This is great because it would be too sad for this exceptionally talented team of performers to be let down in their scores by an average examination experience. I could hear conversations taking place in his bedroom all afternoon and night as they co-operatively worked together. They've planned lunch out afterwards and I'd like to think that in some capacity they will always be friends.

With all this in place I took my son over to school just now and we hugged in our ritualistic way and I said, as I always do, 'May the force be with you'. This is my 'good luck' message to all my children when they have some mountain to climb. However, on returning home I realized he had left his water bottle, another ritual of his, to fill up his clear water bottle just before he heads off for an examination. I checked the time and decided that if I ran fast I could make it to him before they were called in.

Past the eucalytus trees I ran, the freshly mowed oval where he had played countless soccer games, the bicylce stands, the Science building, the swimming pool and around to the gymnasium where I saw boys standing around chatting. Yes! There was some chance I had made it in time. Suddenly, I saw my son's head bob up from where he had been sitting on the grass and it was clear he was confused to see me. I held up the water bottle. 'Ah, you came all the way back! Thank you'. 'Good luck,' I said to him and those gathered, and as I was running away I heard someone say, 'Your mum is awesome' and then my son said, 'She makes me a hot breakfast every morning.' Ya see! They do care about these things.

As he was eating said breakfast this morning, he turned to me and said, 'Mum, you'll like this' and he played me an audio he had saved on his phone; a conversation between two boys that had taken place in their respective homes yesterday. It was two of his mates in conversation about Maths Methods. Clearly, one was better at the subject than the other and rather than two mates in conversation, one was performing the role of teacher and one was the student, in the sense that he understood his inferior capabilities in this subject.

'So, the answer is 9y.'
'Oh, f*ck me. How could it be 9y?'
'Because x has to be a less than y if you are derivating the number.' (I'm making this up a bit. It was gobbledy gook to me, actually)
'No, that can't be. Isn't y equal to 6?'
'No. x must be less.'
'What a mother f**ker of a subject this is! I'm burning my books the minute the examination is over. I am going to take great delight in burning all this crap.'
(Snickers heard)
'I don't understand how you can burn all your work.'
'Oh, you are going to burn your books too. Don't tell me you're too good to burn your books. This subject has caused me so much pain. This shit is going to burn in hell.'
(lots more snickers)
'Moving onto question 9f...'

This is life. There is always someone better at something than us, somebody who will teach us something we don't know; somebody who has to take the lead; somebody who has to get the ball rolling.

I adore the fact that these boys pool their resources and push everybody up with them, but the fact remains that only one boy will dux the grade. It's about PBs really and having some fun in amongst all the angst.

Last weekend I sat next to a girl who I knew well at school. I haven't seen her for nearly 40 years and it was fun to catch up on her life (Well, career really. It was all about her career.)I always knew she was smarter than me and she went on to become an academic, and I think she makes a difference to the world too, in her own way. She was well above me in terms of results, but I was smart enough to go to the same university as her and in the first year of university I'd try to get her to help me with my Linguistics, which was sometimes gobbledygook to me. My brain processes creative aspects of life better than it does mathematics or linguistics, as I found it. But, she had no real interest in helping me, I soon discovered, and I find myself hoping that these days she is more generous towards her PhD students. Let's hope she was able to make that change.

We are who we are, need what we need, want what we want. We can strive to be anything our hearts can dream but there are limits to this. We can only play with the cards we are dealt; be who we are; find our own way to shine. Peace comes when we can find the generosity within ourselves to share ourselves and when we can understand and accept ourselves; know our place in this big, wide world, because we all have a place.

Arousal from spanking

Relationships adapt, change and evolve over time. My feelings about being spanked have evolved as well and that bothers me a bit. Spanking is where it all started for me. As a little girl I'd come across a disciplinary scene in a novel and I would stop breathing, dog ear the page and return to it endlessly; play it out in my mind when I was alone in my bed and the lights were out.

Spanking is how I engaged my husband in a power exchange with me. We tried a number of different techniques and I have vivid memories of some of them. He was aroused by spanking from the outset but I think he was also aroused by the happy girl that came about after the spanking. He'd often push me far beyond where I wanted to go and I'd hang onto various little phrases that my mentor used. 'It will be over soon', I'd repeat to myself and this seemed to allow me to bunker down into the spanking. Sucking and biting a ball gag or cock gag helped a great deal and being restrained was often the perfect scenario for me, allowing me to take more than I normally could and to experience that intense sense of 'letting go' and catharsis.

For some time we had a 'black book' and he wrote down any sort of behaviour of mine over the week that he didn't appreciate. I remember saying something cheeky during one disciplinary spanking and he said immediately 'five more whacks'. It was a crop he'd been using and the five fast whacks delivered produced five angry weals which instinctively had me deciding to move away. 'Did I give you permission to move?' he barked. It stopped me in my tracks and I regained my position,  not wanting any more, a little frightened to disobey, flustered but aroused by it all too, of course.

Since the break of those sorts of situations and scenarios I'm having trouble returning to the sorts of games that he wants to now play. I think he feels that I need to be spanked for my own good and for the sake of us, but something holds me back. I give myself messages to 'let go' and just accept but there is a real rebellion going on in my head.

I wonder about this rebellion. Am I sub-consciously thinking, 'You've been absent for a long time. What makes you think you can just return when it suits you?' Physically, I am not enjoying it. There is more annoyance in the smacks or the sting of the paddle, a rising of umbrage, and I can't settle into it. He hates that I can't settle into it and he tends to stop, upset with me. Maybe, some would say, he should just keep going and get it over with, but he's reluctant to cause any undue harm to my state of mind.

He's suggested we return to the 'black book' and whilst I am not someone who enjoys having my little failings documented and dealt with, maybe that's best, at least for now. It's not that I am not aroused by the thoughts of spankings, or talking about them and so on. Perhaps I don't care for the fact that he wants to make them the so called 'sexually arousing spanking', as in spank a bit and rub a bit and touch a bit. That's just not working at the moment for me.

Maybe, I have gone so far down the 'rules' path this year that the need is there to go further. I've been introduced to rules and corrected for breaking them enough times that this sort of 'person of authority' in my life who can dictate the rules for me seems perfectly natural now. Maybe he's right about the 'black book' but maybe rather than him decide arbitrarily that I did something he doesn't care for, it should be a fairly fair system where the rules are determined in advance. If 'no talking back' is a rule, then fine, I'll embrace the rule, eventually.

It's all rather new and different and I can't quite get a handle on my own thinking about it all. It's like there has a been a bit of loosening of the wires of my brain and my thinking is altering, and what arouses me is altering. It's the tighter grip that my brain is processing as arousing rather than the physical sensation of being spanked. It's as if that is now something that isn't so much foreplay for me but something delivered for other reasons. There has been arousal in both methods but somehow the arousal is the end result of this sort of power over me in my life now, something more serious and sophisticated perhaps...

Correction

I can't help but notice that the recent post entitled Being Corrected has been read by a considerably larger number of people than usually read my posts. My little journal is for a select audience on the whole. At first, I thought it related to the fact that people might be curious as to what I was writing about these days, but each day the tally for that particular post climbs higher and I am forced to conclude that the issue of being corrected in a power exchange is of particular interest to people. So let's explore that some more.

For me, there's a fun side to correction and a very serious side at the same time. It was during the process of wanting to understand more about the process of correction and aftercare of a scene, or a longer experience, that I came across this piece of excellent writing about after care. It was fascinating to read about the situation where a woman might orgasm during rape and that this does not represent consent in any way. Clarisse Thorn and links to other women writers on the subject from her blog can give much more insight to this issue than I can, so I won't say any more about that, except to say that the body can definitely defy the brain. We can be turned on by issues that upset us or challenge us or even issues or experiences that we hate.

I've written recently about serious struggle in terms of being corrected and I don't think being corrected is ever going to be a 'piece of cake' for me. (pun intended, because is a banned substance) It doesn't strike me as being an easy thing to have someone insist that the way you've done things in the past won't be how you'll be doing them from now on. If you take food as an example, it's no small thing to train someone (be they dietitian, personal trainer, doctor or dominant) to stop eating sugar, or to eat it very rarely and only in small quantities. It isn't easy being told that you can either have a slice of cake on your birthday or something you've been wanting for quite some time. There's a choice, but there are still very strict limits imposed. Basically, at the end of the day, you can't have any cake on your birthday, is the way that game plays out.

Such situations and corrections that relate to daily regimin and rules can be challenging and even quite anger inducing. As I know dominance it's all about getting compliance which is another way of saying that it's all about achieving goals. One way or the other, goals will be achieved. It's not something that I choose to write about in detail in the journal but nasty deeds were done and clever tricks were devised to ensure my compliance on this matter (seriously limited sugar intake) and that resulted in a week where I experienced a gamut of emotions from arousal to extreme anger. Not only was I experiencing distress such that old habits were being dumped (and I choose that word with intention) but it was clear that this was arousing to both parties. I was mystified at my reaction, deep arousal at the same time as I was furious, but there it was and it could not be denied.

I think some of us can handle our kink with scenes and go about our lives until the next scene, and some of us want something more consistent than that. I've found that I enjoy and appreciate a more consistent sort of control exerted over me and this can be achieved in several ways; in some ways, the more the better.

I've been negotiating with my husband a stronger, tighter relationship. We've nearly at the end of one stage of our lives and onto another where we have more flexibility and freedom to pursue our own relationship. I have not enjoyed his absence in my personal life. It has been close to unbearable and I have expressed my needs.

It was interesting and hopeful for me to realize in our discussion that he is not entirely short of ideas at all. Something came up about my wardrobe. I think he may have said, 'Do I interfere with your purchases?' and I said, 'Well, I'd like you to be more involved, actually. I'd like you to notice things. I like it when you give me your input or choose something yourself.' And, he said, without drawing breath, 'Well, if that's what you want, you can call me and ask permission before you make a purchase. How do you like that?' It stopped me in my tracks. Did I want that? 'Or,' I responded, 'I could keep the ticket on things and I could show you a purchase and if you didn't like it, I could take it back.' There it was again, that sense of 'I like this/I don't like this'. I adore to be controlled but my instincts tell me to hold onto a bit of control too.

We have this situation, my Internet teacher and I, where, from time to time, it comes up in conversation as to whether he's too strict. If I am a bit 'sixs and sevens' he might ask if he is too strict, and I finally got up the nerve recently to type back that yes, sometimes he was. That's the part of me that wants to hold onto some control because in fact, he's not too strict at all. He's firm, yes. But, where the f**k would we be if he wasn't? If I could guarantee that I know what is good for me all the time, then he's too strict, but alas, I can't guarantee it at all.

As previously noted, after this  week long, dramatic, exhausting 'correction' I found myself exploring aftercare. Shouldn't I be getting something more than a pat on the head? Hour by hour I came to see that I was simply trying to control the 'after the correction' experience too. I had completed the correction, got some praise for it and now it was over. Oh. So, that's the way corrections go. No. Big. Deal. Part of the deal.

Let's be clear here. I long for a sense of containment and connection. Nothing brings more joy and bliss into my life than to feel the sort of emotional response where I feel love and respect for someone such that my whole body and soul resonates with the thrill of being alive and living this life. In order to achieve it I need to 'let go' and just let the control wash over me - my mind, my body, my whole life. Correction is part of the deal. It's arousing, it's confronting. It's an essential part of what I want.

Leaders

Shakespeare had that extraordinary ability to understand men - their virtues and their vices - and he didn't shy away from the Carnivalesque world. In his famous character of Falstaff we have an entry point into that fantastical world where responsibility has no place. The moment where Hal finally rejects him is said by some critics to be the saddest moment in theatrical history. Yet, he has been given so many chances, had so many warnings of what was to come if he did not reform, that we understand, and Falstaff and Hal themselves understand, that his banishment is written in the stars.

Of course, it his forbearance of Falstaff, even to the point where Falstaff is useless in battle, a total hindrance in fact, that we cannot ignore. Prince Hal offers him the honour of saying that it was he that killed Hotspur and saved the King,  reminding the audience that chivalry is not dead.

For my part, if a lie may do thee grace
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have 

This is a successful King in the making. Courageous and strategic, with a robust understanding of the Machiavellian creed, yet not so desiring of honour that he cannot aid his friend, he has all the necessary qualities to lead.

I suppose there is something steadfast about Hotspur some might find attractive. His noble pursuit of honour at the behest of all other aspects of life has something solid about it. We know where we stand. He'll be valiant in battle. He'll do all he can. Yet, his rejection of song, of his wife's troubles, I don't think we can forgive him that; that ruthless bloody mindedness to see life only through his own eyes; to not have some kind words for Kate before his departure. We don't take kindly to that, nor should we.

It never ceases to amaze me that a man who wrote so long ago had such insight into human nature that what he wrote about then still applies today. We cannot accept Falstaff's rejection of the pursuit of honour such that we can applaud cowards and self-interested men, but nor can we put ourselves behind men like Hotspur who would lead us onto the battlefield without forethought and an all encompassing understanding of what it is to live.

Those of us with a submissive leaning recognize innately that a good leader must possess level-headedness, and a sense of honour that encompasses justice and chivalry; an understanding of the multi-dimensional concept of the word 'honour' (not to seek it for its own sake), and even some understanding of the Carnivalesque world. If they wish to be much loved and admired, well then, of course, they must be capable of loving abundantly. Innately, this is well understood whatever the era.

Masochism

If I were to expose my mind to a psychologist it would become obvious very quickly that he or she was seating opposite a masochist. I've been reluctant to make that admission, even to myself, but I have reached a point where there is no point in denying it any further.

It was clear years ago that I was aroused by being told what to do and by having someone in control of me in various ways. Yet, I didn't feel that the title of 'masochist' applied, since I didn't need or particularly want, a great deal of pain.

I did notice this: that if the control was intense and certain I could take a lot more sensation than if I felt I could manipulate a situation. This is still the case. Even in the mindset of 'toy' I can still push and test. I seem to need to know that if I push against the wall it won't cave in on me; that the wall is solid and I can't knock it down.

This is what has often gone awry with my husband and me. He sees a bit of anger and distress and figures that I have had enough or he has done the wrong thing. On the contrary, whatever distress or anger I am experiencing will soon blow over if he can hold his nerve, not easy sometimes, I am sure, but there it is.

I like the control to be such that I cannot influence or effect it. Of course, situations will call for some adjustment or negotiation at times but I need to know that there is no Plan B, simply a slight modification of Plan A on occasion and only if absolutely necessary.

It hasn't always been this way. This situation has evolved as I have become more comfortable and certain in my role. My submission is deeply affected by the certainty and intensity of the control. Some people say that masochists really want to control. I don't buy that but I do recognize that I am capable of exerting control (or giving it a go) if I don't feel there is enough control being exerted over me or if it feels that there is, at that moment, too much. I push at the wall trying to get it to convince me that I am wasting my time. I don't want to control. I want to be certain that the control over me is alive and well.

These days my masochism is well expressed and that relates to the level of sadism being exerted. I'm still a little gobsmacked to type that sadism in various guises is not the least off putting to me (even though it can initially make me very angry and rebellious). That is to say, having recognized that I appreciate sadistic games I am in no position to complain about the sadist's glee when I experience pain or discomfort. This exchange of energy, this reinforcement of position and place, is comforting, reassuring and arousing.

If the mind of the masochist is engaged there are countless ways one can control her. It's the creativity of the sadist that matters here. The meting out of pain and control works in any number of ways so long as roles have been ascribed and adhered to. It's these constant reminders of place and status that are so fulfilling to both players. It may take some time to reach this place and it's important, I believe, not to allow gains garnered to slide back to previous levels. What's best for both is when the relationship can evolve and spread its wings over time. When the dynamic is cemented that's when the explorations can really start to happen.

My point is that I need to know my place and to be held accountable for maintaining that place. It's clear even to me that this is how I feel safe and secure. As the masochist and 'bottom' I need to feel sure that the sadist/Top is comfortable and secure in his place, ready, willing and able to guide me.  To my mind the Dominant/Top/sadist is responsible for creating the road map for the journey whilst the submissive/bottom/masochist is responsible for following the directions given to her to take her to interesting places that will complete her and expand her horizons.

I can see that it is a tough situation for someone who isn't sure of the extent of another's person submissive's stance or her desire for masochism. She probably isn't sure herself how far she can go or what she is capable of, or wants. I can only emphasize once again that she will go a very long way in the journey if she feels that the leadership is there - strong, certain, unfailingly reliable and dependable. We all have our off days but I know what it is like to flap in the breeze and it's not a good  look and to be avoided at all costs.

Dirty minds

I confess. I do enjoy my Tumblr account very much and I do watch the odd little clip that gives me even more insight into a photograph such as the one above. It was in a documentary about making porn where I watched a girl in the same testing position as the girl here. Her mouth wasn't gagged and she was calling out phrases, "oh, my poor little hole, my poor little hole". Maybe she had rehearsed the line, but the words and sounds she emitted sounded authentic, the sort of whimpers and cries and pleas that any girl in a similar situation is likely to produce! Finally she said with desperation evident in her voice, "I can't take any more, I can't take any more...", but on the camera rolled, the producers waiting to see, I think, if she calmed down a little, could take a little more, pushing and prodding her mind as well as her ass.

It's an interesting thing to consider, arousal and libido and its relationship to the power of suggestion. I lived 50+ years before I ever saw such a evil contraption and yet the moment I saw it my mind was turned 'on'. That's probably because I was ready to see it. I had explored power exchange enough whereby the notion of the body of a 'toy' being trained in various ways was acceptable to me, to the point where it was arousing to my mind to observe.

In fact, I lived 50+ years before I knew very much about the range of sexual activities at all. My own rather perverse mind had gone as far as it could go without training or someone in my life actually wanting and needing me to go much further in my explorations. When I was introduced to various new ideas, some were embraced immediately and others took time to cement themselves in my mind. It's very far from a situation where I was comfortable with more extreme thoughts overnight. It was a step by step process. Objectification, humiliation play and the owning of 'property' is not suited to those in a hurry. My point is that if you plan to train a girl (or bottom) it's best to have a good supply of patience and to accept that it may be two steps forward and one step back for quite some time. There is quite a lot to take on here.

I think energy for life comes in all sorts of guises. If one puts a great deal of energy into, say, painting or writing or trading markets or model car collecting, there may not be quite as much available sexual energy in that person. The time and effort they put into those other endeavors may be compensation for, or an alternative to, the energy they might have put into exploring sex and the body. Neither is the right or wrong way to live, but to have a robust sexual life, it takes two people who share an interest in sexual exploration and challenge. To have a robust and fulfilling power dynamic it takes consistent effort on both sides.

Over time, the sexual act can become repetitive and relationships can morph into something other than what began as the union of two young libidinous souls. For some people they move on, putting their pent up energies into other pursuits (bridge, tennis, sports cars, what have you...) whilst in other cases, one or both of the members of the union decide to ram it up a bit, to try new activities, new games, and even to do a little 'mind fucking'.

Although to many people the above image seems severe and off-putting, mean and nasty stuff, to other people, such as women like me who like to imagine being put in this situation, as challenging as it is on various levels (!), it's an incredible turn on. What I have come to understand is that sometimes a woman needs to say "oh, that's gross and offensive and I hate it" before she can say one day later, or months later in time, "okay, the truth is that that is a real turn on, but I think I'm not meant to say that or think that..." It takes time and patience, just quietly and consistently penetrating a woman's mind before she'll show you just how dirty it really is.

And the feeling is good

I can view a photograph such as the one above and dwell on it extensively. I might sit and watch this image a dozen or more times, and then a day later return to it and watch it all over again. I might masturbate to the image or simply find myself thinking about it, and the extended scenarios that are conjured relating to it, whilst I am driving in the car or sitting in the audience waiting for a show to commence.

These moments can derail me. They tend to arrest my desires to be productive and I often find I have to write about it so that I can put some sort of finality to the compulsive thinking about it. I write this now in the hope that it may act as some sort of 'orgasm' allowing me to get productive fast, as is necessary.

Although we often do what we must, when we have our way we do what we want or what brings us pleasure. I think that when I see an image such as this it floods my brain with positive feelings and energy. My mind remembers the times when my husband has done something vaguely similar and I process once again the enormous sense of enrichment I felt after one of these sessions. It lifts my spirits and makes me feel whole and complete. I am immediately elevated.

I took a personality test again just before which confirmed that I am a INFP personality, which basically means that I express myself better in writing than I do in oral language and that I tend to process the world according to how I feel rather than what is logical.

It's true. I am in the 2% or so of the population that seems to be overly aware of how they feel and those feelings matter a great deal to them. I look to be happy and content with my life in my own unique way. I seek out those people who allow me to feel complete and deeply comfortable in my own skin. Inclined to dream my way through life at every possible opportunity I am well positioned to have a boss in my life who is more logical and practical; stern but fun loving; appreciative of the positive and negative aspects of my nature that is wholly ingrained.

It is said that the INFP personality is easily misunderstood. I think we types, as introverted and dreamy as we tend to be, do wonderfully well under the control of someone else if we feel understood and appreciated. Yes, we don't always function terribly well on our own, but some people don't mind that about us. Our child-like enthusiasm is attractive to some people. When that is tapped into and when we can shine in this way, I think that's when you see the best of us.

On one level I take power exchange extremely seriously. It's so much more than a game. Yet, at the same time it's the most delicious game that was ever invented. To accept the dominance that is exerted in this photograph and to provide service in that way completes my needs for taking the dynamic seriously at the same time as it provides satiation for my need for having a lot of fun.

I adore the exchange of energy. I adore the way this sort of play makes me feel. I am always chasing those feel-good moments and if I can't get them in my day to day life I'll happily search them out in my mind.  To feel adoration for someone is about as happy as I can possibly be and I adore to be led.