Praise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sexual appetite

Sexual appetite is awakened by some display of taking charge; perhaps a blindfold, feeling rope on the body. As the rope criss-crosses the body, across and under my breasts, either side of my pussy lips and firmly on my asscunt, I can feel my mind awaken to the tight control, like a flip has been switched 'on'. On this occasion, he pulled back the bed covers and told me to sleep. It's been a stressful few days with the ill health of one of the children to deal with and the rope aided me to sleep within seconds.

Upon waking, it felt like someone had lit a furnace deep within me. My body desired use. I don't mean intercourse exactly. My desire was to meet with an appetite that matched mine. I didn't really want a 'husband' but rather something more akin to a 'beast'. Grunts, groans, slaps; moving me around with vigour; getting at me and doing with me what a beast does with his prey.

The appetite is deep within my psyche. I not only want to be fucked. I want to feel at the mercy of the lascivious predator. I want to feel fear at the back of my throat. I want to be submerged in a gnawing hunger.

When this happens a sense of completion and satisfaction overtakes my being such that it feels like I am on a high; a levitation of sorts which allows me to float through the rest of the day or the following day, depending on the time this has taken place. It is wise not to leave me in charge of money on this day because my head is mush. Mistakes have been made on this day that have been costly!

For the next few days, the furnace will restart all over again and all on its own. I'll awaken from sleep with a burning need to reach orgasm again. This will happen over and over until the embers slowly begin to burn out and I'll start to think of something else; stop fixating on the feeling between my legs and the thoughts running through my head.

The argument could be made that the problem is that I am greedy because, alas, loving 'intercourse' will never be enough. I really do need to express the whore that resides in me.

2015: Reflections

One of my Facebook friends asked the question, 'How would you sum up your 2015 in one word?' and this got me thinking. I asked my oldest son for his word and he immediately answered 'confronting'. When I asked why it was confronting he reminded me that one of his dearest school chums had died of an overdose in 2015. His grandfather, with whom he had developed a strong bond over the past years had become sick towards the end of the year and he'd visited him in the hospital almost every day until his death; spoken at his funeral; watched him return to the earth. His two best mates had moved overseas during the year and he'd broken up with his girlfriend with whom he was living late in the year as well.

From a career perspective or a business perspective, 2015 wasn't remotely 'confronting'; rather fast moving and successful. At work, he's the rising star. Like me, he immediately thought to base his one word to describe 2015 on his own personal feelings. It was internally, within himself,  where he'd been 'confronted' by life as it played out in the past year.

I've tried a few times to look back on my own 2015 and feel a bit lost for a single word to describe the past year in my life. I read over a few posts that I wrote here but they only prove that you can't judge what is happening to a person by the posts they publish on the Internet, any more than you can judge a young man by the image he projects in a well cut suit who is routinely getting on and off internationally bound airplanes  .

I can point to highlights of the year. We saw one of our sons graduate with his university degree. He has been challenged in his life by a condition that made school harder for him than it is for most young men but he excelled in the final year of his degree, proving yet again that you should never write a child off and that you should almost always allow a child to do that which turns them on.

Our daughter and her partner bought a house together and I am very proud to say that they did a wonderful job in the past year transforming it into a lovely home. I was a little shocked when I first saw it. It was a gloomy sort of place at first sight and thus they proved, yet again, that nearly anything can be made beautiful with tender, loving care and a lot of paint.

I managed to get my husband away to Japan and we thrived over there alone together. It showed me, if I needed any further convincing, that I do well in the 'help-mate' role being led; that play sessions where I submit to authority are transformational for me; that we make a good team, and that everybody needs some fun and adventure in their lives.

I graduated with my Master of Arts in front of all my family, except the son travelling, and I was very happy to have obtained this goal. I've earned by 'colours' and now it's up to me to do something with the qualification in this new year.

In the final days of the year I was beginning to drift off to sleep one hot night and as I looked about the room my eye settled on the chair in the corner of the room. I can tell you a fact about the chair; that we had seen it in a furniture shop together some years ago now and I'd expressed the fact that I thought it was a lovely chair. I can tell you that one day, several weeks later, I'd walked into the bedroom and there was the chair, a surprise he'd devised. But, it doesn't tell you anything about my feelings as my eye settled on the chair late that night at the end of 2015. Rather, I looked at the chair and thought out of nowhere, 'I'm happy in my life. Here. With him. I'm glad I stayed. What a relief I didn't succumb; that I stayed true.'

In truth, the word for my 2015 is 'challenging'. Towards the middle of the year I began to take 'selfies' of myself. I felt so flummoxed and at sea that I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. The photographs showed me in no uncertain terms that I was deeply troubled. I'd look at them and wonder where I had gone; that person that had so often been referred to as 'ethereal' in the past. Yet, the photographs taken in Japan - and that's September/October - point to a transformation of my earlier troubled soul. I was happy, so happy, and it was evident; irrefutable.

Those readers who have been willing to continue reading here; to withstand my ups and downs through the years, may remember me writing about listening to a monk one Friday night. I'd taken my husband to hear him and together we listened as he told us that the purpose of life is to be happy; that everything flows from that.

I think the trick of life is to understand that nothing, good or bad, lasts forever. Life may be short but it's a long road and we will experience many ebbs and flows along the way. Holding onto what is authentic in our lives is key; listening to that voice, that deep down wisdom that we hold within each and every one of us about what is right and what is wrong.

Follow that voice. It won't lead you astray. Happy New Year.

Shared fantasies

Boxing Day. A leisurely start to the day. He kissed me in several places and then he pulled the night gown over my head. He returned to his position of laying down with his head resting on two pillows.

He asked me of the morning rule and rather than answer in words I went between his legs and sucked his cock until it was very hard. After a minute or two of that he had me sit up on his chest and he held me tight against him.

I'm not entirely sure I heard every word correctly, for it was quite shocking in its own way, but what I heard was, 'I wish I had a close male friend that I could talk to about this. Imagine being used by someone else in this position.'

I did. I did think about that instantly. I arched my hips such that I was presenting myself to the absent second male; that close friend of my husband.

I felt an instant and intense arousal at the thought. I admit that. I imagined my husband holding me tight, just as he was doing, and at his command another man, perhaps a man I would never see, or a man who understood that he was secondary to a union he could never tear assunder, quietly taking his pleasure in my back hole.

This was more than fantasy. This was a fantasy I was sharing with my husband and we both got off on it. That's when I realized that shared fantasies are hot.

Spirituality within power exchange

My immersion into spiritual practice and my overwhelming attraction to SM practices and power exchange relationships in general collided several years ago such that it is hard for me to separate one from the other. That this might mean something tangible to the reader, I give the following example of how the two worlds mingle in my mind.

In Eckhart Tolle's Stillness Speaks he has a chapter on 'Relationships', and in that chapter he writes,

'When you get attached to objects, when you are using them to enhance your worth in your own eyes and in the eyes of others, concerns about things can easily take over your life. When there is self-identification with things you don't appreciate them for what they are because you are looking for yourself in them. When you appreciate an object for what it is, when you acknowledge its being without mental projection, you cannot not feel grateful for its existence. You may also sense that it is not really inanimate, that it only appears so to the senses. Physicists will confirm that on a molecular level it is indeed a pulsating field. Through selfless appreciation of the realm of things, the world around you will come alive in ways that you cannot even begin to comprehend with the mind.'

When I first read Tolle's words, and when I re-read them as I often do, they immediately resonated with me because of experiences I have had through a power exchange relationship. The world of the doll manifests itself in a very small and contained world and when the conditions are just right all egoic thought and concerns based on the real world drift away. The mind shuts right down and my experience is simply a physical one. I can feel the sensations of the body. I can feel arousal. On the great days, I can feel complete peace.

I can get to this sublime place through wearing a large butt plug which chokes thinking off, or I can get there through wearing a latex mask. They are quite different experiences, one not better than the other, but I've a particular partiality to the former experiences because I can maintain the connection with 'the other' better.

There have been experiences where 'bimbo' permeates me. She is inseparable to that never-changing  'I am' entity. There is no past or no future. There are no worries or thoughts; certainly no attachments to identity or worth or worldy possessions. Bimbo responds to direction, absolutely, but in the most special situations the feeling is light, warm and easy. It is understood that bimbo won't say very much because she has found herself in a world of comfort and grace; ease, peace and beauty.

I remember on one particular early morning she was in the country chatting oh so quietly on her computer. Not that much was being said because her world can often be simply peaceful with few words necessary. She was aware of the sun coming up to light the world; of the darkness making way for some light; the shapes of trees. More than anything she was aware of the stillness of this time and the stillness within her. Ever so quietly she found her attention drawn to the objects around her; a blue and white cup and a jug. She marvelled at the beauty of them as if she had never before seen a cup or a jug; the vibrancy of the colour; the very essence of these objects designed to do specific tasks. A sense of peace and pleasure welled up in her. She was living in this moment. Her cup runneth over.

There are no doubt a variety of ways to reach these peaceful moments in life, yet in my life the way towards them has often been to be led down a path where I may reach them. I have procured these peaceful moments through power exchange; perhaps not the ideal way to navigate a spiritual life, and yet many a monk has sought out help along the way.

I remain attached to people. It's not that I live through them but rather that it is still hard to imagine life without them. To date, I respond very naturally to the submissive role and thus yearn for the sort of dominance in my life where there is understanding of a spiritual life. My personal goal is to get to that spiritual dimension on my own at any time, if need be; to find respite and comfort in the 'I am' entity which never changes and to let all other worldly concerns and worries, identities or pride loosen and shake off. This is the life of the monk, the nun; those who wish to live as Buddha taught.

It cannot be denied that my interest in power exchange relationships began when the material I was reading aroused me to the core. It was entirely sexual. Every word I read at first was an aphrodisiac to my mind ready to take it all on. It didn't take on a spiritual dimension for me, something akin to subspace, until I quite simply experienced that spiritual dimension. This was the true gift. This was the opportunity I am so grateful to have seized with both hands and all my heart.

Getting between a woman and her shoes

In pursuit of gifts for my mother to give to her family, a task I do for her so that she is less anxious about the holiday season, I came across hardtofind.com and on that site I happened to spot a pair of sandals that seemed to fit the bill for me for summer. They are white and tan, casual, with a bit of European flair.

I've been vacillating over them for a few weeks.  On occasion I enquire as to my husband's opinion of something I see online but he's currently working extremely long hours, so I decided to ask the opinion of a male online friend. That is, I sent a link to a picture of the shoe and asked if he liked them. He has a tendency to use one word responses and the word he chose was 'Nope'. I immediately shot back, ' Why don't you like them?' He explained that the shoe had a wedge and hence he didn't like the shoe. 'No wedges,' he said. (see what I mean about the responses?)

I had to absorb this information. I rather like espadrilles. You see countless pairs on the feet of women in France and Spain and they have always conjured for me that continental feel. Of course, as I thought about it some more, it made sense that he didn't like female shoes with a wedge shape. He likes all things hyper- feminine and whilst I would argue that my espadrilles can look quite feminine, they don't have the ultra-feminine look that he admires.

Just now, this morning, as flat chat as I am, I couldn't help myself. I simply had to do a review of my shoes. Sure, probably most of my shoes would absolutely pass the 'no wedges' test, but several of them would not. Almost unknowingly I had bought over the past years several shoes and sandals with a wedge.

I can only say that there must be an awful lot of wedge style shoes about that it seemed okay to me, or perhaps I was trying to tend towards a more casual style. I've so often been accused of being 'elegant', as if I am a bit too dressed up for the modern age and I think this might have influenced me to choose wedge style shoes at times for fear of being too dressed up in other styles.

For the first half day after this conversation, this friend of mine who is so inclined to make statements as if he is Moses on the hill issuing an edict, had me really irritated. Just because he didn't go for shoes with a wedge for girls shouldn't influence me! But, here's the truth. He had me rethinking the way I wear shoes and the way I put together outfits. Was I dressing to please some sense of how I should dress according to the overall public sensibility who surely don't really give a damn about my choices, or was I dressing to please myself?

I am most authentically myself not only in dresses and skirts but also in a style that resonates with me - good quality items of a relatively dateless style and feminine footwear. When I truly assessed the situation beautiful shoes are gathering dust in my wardrobe whilst I swan about mostly in casual footwear, attempting the 'dressed down' look. (And, by the way, it's not a money thing. The 'dressed down' look can be just as, if not more, expensive than the more 'dressed up' look.)

Here's part B of the truth too. I actually love it when a man steps up and says what he likes. I am way more comfortable with an edict than no edict. I'd almost love to be able to report that I don't care what he thinks about wedges. The facts are that I know myself so much better than that. You know what I am going to say, don't you? Yep. I won't be buying those shoes at hardtofind., nor any other wedge shaped shoes from now on. (Damn, but I am so easily lead!)

Getting our groove back

If you make it through your child rearing years still liking and loving your spouse, there is an opportunity to create something new from the union. With more time to be alone, whether in the house or outside of it, conversations ensue that hopefully enable you to see over the horizon where intimacy and mutual understanding is at the forefront.

With two opportunities to be alone for the entire weekend in the past month we've played, but more importantly, we've talked about what we want going forward and what that might look like. He was very honest and I appreciated his honesty. He has, after all, been observing me for the past 40 year so when he shares his observations, I listen.

He said that I did best when we had a mutually agreed disciplinary relationship in place. He said that I would be nervous as the week came to a close, which he liked, and that the corporal discipline did me good; made me happy, light and youthful. He said that I would often try to provide reasons why the reckoning couldn't happen now but that it was never a good idea to listen to me; that things were best when I just let go and did as I was told. He said that we'd been together forever and that if I didn't trust him now, I never would. He'd never do anything to intentionally hurt me. Sure, the spanking would hurt but any temporary pain was for my own good, and that was all there was to that.

He said that it had never been the case that I didn't get wet over submitting to his will, and he'd never not got aroused by giving me a spanking. He said that I was wired in this particular way and that was all there was to that. He said that it hadn't always been something he wanted but that I created this 'perversion' in him and he liked that he had been taken to the dark side; was no longer bothered by it.

On both weekends he didn't give me a choice about the disciplinary side of things, nor, now that I think about it, did he offer a reason for the spanking, except to say that I needed it. He likes to insist that I stay in position even when not tied down. He tries to talk me through it, basically by using a deep voice and words that make it clear that things won't get any easier by coming up. Inevitably, however, he resorts to very contained roping where any resistance is simply against the ropes.

I do love the time he puts into securing the ropes, even whilst aware of what will happen next. When the implement comes down on my ass I attempt to refrain from yelling and screaming but more often than not he'll ask if I want something for my mouth and I, gratefully, say, 'yes, please'. It's a relief to be able to bite down on something.

With the ball gag secured yesterday, it was nice to know that I'd make less noise. There is a row of trees between the neighbours and us but something about the positioning of the house on a little hill makes for incredible echoes. I do worry I can be heard all over town! It was something of a disappointment to realize, therefore, that when the edge of a tawse catches your pussy that your scream, even with a big red ball in your mouth, will sound quite blood curdling. Fortunately, it didn't deter him from presenting his challenges.

It was nice to know that he had enjoyed his time swinging. Lost in bimbo non-thought I suddenly found myself having the ball gag removed so that it could be replaced with a hard, demanding cock that wanted to fill the hole instead.

On the way home in the car I asked him, 'Do you want to go back to keeping a black book then?' I thought he'd jump at this. I'd asked specifically; committed. But, I think he had his own ideas, already formulated.

'Maybe one day you'll find that this process has already begun.'

My husband couldn't be more aware of the fact that I like surprises; predicaments. I am hopeless as the one in control and I very much prefer to be led in nearly any situation.

I was delighted when, last Friday, we shopped together, a rare experience for us. The girl had me trying on a garment which she thought fitted well, but when my husband saw me he immediately said it wasn't right and had her bring another style, which was much more flattering. Later, I thanked him for the garment and especially for getting involved in the selection. I revealed to him that the purchases I make myself really don't do much for me. I want to feel the power exchange in so many facets of my life. This, instinctively, is what makes me happy and content. This is what feels authentic.