When it comes to his business affairs my husband is a micro manager. He is currently editing, drafting and correcting papers in relation to an agreement and trust me when I say that no stone will be left unturned. He will do it and he will do it to the best of his abilities, ensuring that every fact and condition and point is properly stated. His ability to give his complete focus to a task is something you really have to see to believe.
Leading his business life this way depletes him of any desire to micromanage me, and generally speaking that is a good thing because I don't think I would like that level of micromanagement directed at me. If he sees I am doing something in a certain way and he doesn't approve, he tells me but he definitely does not want to have to keep tabs on me. The last thing he needs or wants is to think, "Hmmmm, I wonder if cindi did this and that today, I better go check..." That is just too much like hard work.
Of course, if the dominant person in the equation does not engage adequately with the submissive, something is lost. As Sir J said recently, if it matters to you (you = the dominant), it will matter to her too. I am hoping that once this business deal is wrapped up he can engage with me more and remind me what is important to him and then whatever that is, it will be important to me too. I am rather well trained to obey these days (!) so Sir J's equation makes total sense to me.
All this being the case, it can be necessary for the submissive to make her own rituals and/or rules. Well, perhaps I should back up and say that I do have rules in a general sense. I am expected to maintain our lives in all ways unrelated to business affairs, so one could break that down to say that I tend to the house, the family, the food, the garden and social activities and so on, but it is enough I think to state that the expectation is that I will tend to our non-business affairs, as well as take care of myself and take care of my husband too (and of course the children).
When you have a submissive state of mind, and you want to feel that submission not just in the bedroom but in the core of you, and not just every now and again but many times a day, this can be a problem. Efficiency to please your Owner is fine but it is simply not enough.
I have had a lot of resistance to asking for things for various reasons but I am now finding asking for things a comfort for the above reasons. Asking reminds me of my place and when I feel my place, I feel good.
As I said before, I do the homely things. I cook the meals. Every now and again, it pays for me to put that time into some other activity on a given day. I could easily just dial for some Chinese food and go and collect it but I take pleasure these days in going to my husband's study and saying, "May we please have some take out food tonight? I have to do (this or that)." This pleases him. "Of course," he will say because if I ask nicely for things and the request is within his power, he won't deny it. It gives me a little tingle and that is what I look for; the little tingles in my day.
I am currently considering what else I may ask for: other ways that I can incorporate asking into my day. Would anyone care to share with me what they ask for?
Monday, May 30, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Silence
And, the news is good. My son sent me a text message a few hours ago that he was sitting on a Qantas flight bound for Brisbane.
Yayayayayayayayayayayayay!
It was pretty torrid there, I have to say and as an Internet friend very rightly pointed out, we will have to watch for post-traumatic stress. But, he's a particularly solid and sensible young man and I know he will be all right.
I stayed up late watching Fox News (as you do) listening for any reports that I could find about the conditions over there and by bed time I felt reasonably satisfied that his area was all right. (In fact, they had a great many tornadoes in his area but not huge ones.)
Just before I got into bed he got a text message through to me. "I'm safe. Weather conditions are settling." Just what his mother was waiting to hear. Now, I could sleep!
I sent back one telling him I had booked two seats for Saturday's lunch at his favourite restaurant. I thought it might lift his spirits and he wrote back. "Can't wait."
And so in my family, life goes on. We are one of the lucky ones. I know this and as my brother said when he was so close to the floods earlier in the year, but unaffected, "I feel guilty for surviving."
Life throws up things. My mother has complained her head off lately about the driving of a friend of hers and yesterday was the day they were involved in what could have easily been a fatal accident but was in fact an accident where they walked away unscathed. You just never know, I guess.
Perhaps it was my need to escape for a little from the real world or perhaps a little hormone therapy kicked in. It tends to do that on day 3 to 5 and oh boy, have things changed in that department! For the first time in many months I felt inspired to write a kinky story.
So, here's where readers come in. He has told her that she may not speak for the whole day. Not a word! Absolute silence. Has that ever happened to you? How did it go? And, why did it happen in the first place? I so want to finish this kinky story but I need a plausible reason why he would insist on this and I need a sense of just how challenging this is.
I do have some experience in this but the time frame is much shorter - four hours. I absolutely loved it! It is one of my favourite BDSM experiences and I remember that afterwards I felt beautiful; loved, lovable; totally cared for!
Please share your experiences with me and maybe I can share the story!
Yayayayayayayayayayayayay!
It was pretty torrid there, I have to say and as an Internet friend very rightly pointed out, we will have to watch for post-traumatic stress. But, he's a particularly solid and sensible young man and I know he will be all right.
I stayed up late watching Fox News (as you do) listening for any reports that I could find about the conditions over there and by bed time I felt reasonably satisfied that his area was all right. (In fact, they had a great many tornadoes in his area but not huge ones.)
Just before I got into bed he got a text message through to me. "I'm safe. Weather conditions are settling." Just what his mother was waiting to hear. Now, I could sleep!
I sent back one telling him I had booked two seats for Saturday's lunch at his favourite restaurant. I thought it might lift his spirits and he wrote back. "Can't wait."
And so in my family, life goes on. We are one of the lucky ones. I know this and as my brother said when he was so close to the floods earlier in the year, but unaffected, "I feel guilty for surviving."
Life throws up things. My mother has complained her head off lately about the driving of a friend of hers and yesterday was the day they were involved in what could have easily been a fatal accident but was in fact an accident where they walked away unscathed. You just never know, I guess.
Perhaps it was my need to escape for a little from the real world or perhaps a little hormone therapy kicked in. It tends to do that on day 3 to 5 and oh boy, have things changed in that department! For the first time in many months I felt inspired to write a kinky story.
So, here's where readers come in. He has told her that she may not speak for the whole day. Not a word! Absolute silence. Has that ever happened to you? How did it go? And, why did it happen in the first place? I so want to finish this kinky story but I need a plausible reason why he would insist on this and I need a sense of just how challenging this is.
I do have some experience in this but the time frame is much shorter - four hours. I absolutely loved it! It is one of my favourite BDSM experiences and I remember that afterwards I felt beautiful; loved, lovable; totally cared for!
Please share your experiences with me and maybe I can share the story!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Self control
Life is going on at a very fast clip. Of course, we are anxious about our son who still must get through the next 24 hours before he can get on a plane and return home. What does not break you makes you stronger and I know that this crisis has already made him stronger and me too. Every phone call from him seems like a lifeline and while I am giving him my strength I think he is giving me his as well.
I have tried hard to hold it together. It was a very close call. I think the angels intervened and kept him away from harm. I kept myself busy and refused to let the thought of losing him come into my head. But, yesterday in the meditation at my weekly meditation class, I conjured him up: his birth, his toddler years, his time as a school boy, and the tears welled and spilled down my face.
By the end of the meditation I felt that sense of calmness and quietness that comes over me and I brushed away the tears, said my goodbyes and left. “Take good care, won’t you,” my teacher said earnestly. She must have seen the tears and I appreciated the care.
I had ordered two cardigans through ‘Banana Republic’ and sent them to his hotel and yesterday I had to go about locating the package and giving them instructions as to what to do with it. They replied and added, “We hope he is safe.” People caring about people: this is what the world is meant to be like.
And, I am putting the strategies and ideas I have learned in my therapy into practice: using a lot more self control to achieve satisfactory and successful outcomes for me and those in my life; being considerably strategic, focused and thinking ahead to how messages will be received. A lot of really good work has gone on there – sometimes confusing and sometimes appearing to be going against our power exchange dynamic. But, things are definitely starting to fall into place. I am learning to use my power and energy and passion for the greater good.
I have learned too that communication is paramount in this relationship or any relationship. We really do need to take the time to think about how others are receiving our messages; what impact it is having on the other.
With the threat of another tornado hanging over our heads in this American night, I go into my day thankful: thankful for the most amazing people in my life and all that they have taught me; thankful to be surrounded by love and care and to feel love in my heart for all of them.
I have tried hard to hold it together. It was a very close call. I think the angels intervened and kept him away from harm. I kept myself busy and refused to let the thought of losing him come into my head. But, yesterday in the meditation at my weekly meditation class, I conjured him up: his birth, his toddler years, his time as a school boy, and the tears welled and spilled down my face.
By the end of the meditation I felt that sense of calmness and quietness that comes over me and I brushed away the tears, said my goodbyes and left. “Take good care, won’t you,” my teacher said earnestly. She must have seen the tears and I appreciated the care.
I had ordered two cardigans through ‘Banana Republic’ and sent them to his hotel and yesterday I had to go about locating the package and giving them instructions as to what to do with it. They replied and added, “We hope he is safe.” People caring about people: this is what the world is meant to be like.
And, I am putting the strategies and ideas I have learned in my therapy into practice: using a lot more self control to achieve satisfactory and successful outcomes for me and those in my life; being considerably strategic, focused and thinking ahead to how messages will be received. A lot of really good work has gone on there – sometimes confusing and sometimes appearing to be going against our power exchange dynamic. But, things are definitely starting to fall into place. I am learning to use my power and energy and passion for the greater good.
I have learned too that communication is paramount in this relationship or any relationship. We really do need to take the time to think about how others are receiving our messages; what impact it is having on the other.
With the threat of another tornado hanging over our heads in this American night, I go into my day thankful: thankful for the most amazing people in my life and all that they have taught me; thankful to be surrounded by love and care and to feel love in my heart for all of them.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Joplin
My eldest son travels constantly and to the far reaches of the Earth - Africa, Mexico, New Guinea - he goes wherever the work takes him. I have learned not to worry about him. He is a particularly sensible and mature young man and anyway, the thought of losing him is too unbearable to contemplate and so I just switch off from any thoughts of danger. He has told me of the odd scrape after the fact but he bears the burden alone whilst in the thick of things.
At short notice he was recently sent back to the United States. For the first time ever he shared with me that he wasn't happy about it. He was to be in the heart of the tornado area. My heart skipped a beat but there was nothing I could do about it and I did my best to switch off.
We have kept in contact by email and so has his house mate via Face book. The room mate contacted me on FB last night to say that my son meet a girl in Kansas City over the weekend and we had a fun conversation about that. His room mate loves to annoy him by talking to me. This morning there was an email from my son telling me that I was "banned" from speaking with the young man. It was all light and frivolous and fun. He was on his way back to the hotel in Joplin and would be in touch soon.
This morning the phone rang and my son spoke to his father. He said that a tornado had hit the town where he was living but he and his travelling companion were all right. They had been in Kansas City but were on their way back to the hotel.
As the day progressed he called again several times. The town had been flattened. They (he and his travelling companion) had walked the streets and were overwhelmed by the devastation. It was only that they had decided to play another round of tennis in Kansas City or else they may well have been downtown Joplin looking for a meal when the tornado hit.
Tonight, I give thanks for the life of my son and my prayers to the city of Joplin who have lost a number of their sons and daughters. My heart is most certainly with you in your darkest hour.
At short notice he was recently sent back to the United States. For the first time ever he shared with me that he wasn't happy about it. He was to be in the heart of the tornado area. My heart skipped a beat but there was nothing I could do about it and I did my best to switch off.
We have kept in contact by email and so has his house mate via Face book. The room mate contacted me on FB last night to say that my son meet a girl in Kansas City over the weekend and we had a fun conversation about that. His room mate loves to annoy him by talking to me. This morning there was an email from my son telling me that I was "banned" from speaking with the young man. It was all light and frivolous and fun. He was on his way back to the hotel in Joplin and would be in touch soon.
This morning the phone rang and my son spoke to his father. He said that a tornado had hit the town where he was living but he and his travelling companion were all right. They had been in Kansas City but were on their way back to the hotel.
As the day progressed he called again several times. The town had been flattened. They (he and his travelling companion) had walked the streets and were overwhelmed by the devastation. It was only that they had decided to play another round of tennis in Kansas City or else they may well have been downtown Joplin looking for a meal when the tornado hit.
Tonight, I give thanks for the life of my son and my prayers to the city of Joplin who have lost a number of their sons and daughters. My heart is most certainly with you in your darkest hour.
Friday, May 20, 2011
What's my kink?
I always enjoying reading Remittance Girl’s thoughts and she left me a wonderfully thought provoking comment on my most recent post. I tried twice to leave a long comment and the publishing of that comment failed, so I figured an explanation/response in the form of a post might be in order. Remittance Girl wrote:
Hello Vesta,
I'm glad you're feeling better. I have to own up to the fact that this is not a part of D/s I can really grasp emotionally. I get it intellectually, but that's the extent of it. And I respect your choices.
Okay, now that I've said all the correct things, I'm going to get opinionated. :P
This kind of misery over the length of a set of nails seems either an over-reaction or only half the story. Yes, I know it *isn't* about the nails, but obedience, but I just think that taking it to this edge over this particular issue is odd. And that concerns me, because I know that misery is not your kink (it is mine).
Remittance Girl is completely correct in saying that misery is not my kink. I think that is perfectly clear. I have entered into BDSM experiences in the hope of reaching the sun. I love to smile, to giggle, to feel light and happy. If I can get closer to the heavens and to a peaceful, contented and fulfilled state of mind, I want to go there by whatever means will take me there.
RG mentioned the nails situation in my ‘Obedience’ post. This is a situation that took place 18 months ago but I am happy to revisit my state of mind.
What I experienced was not what I regard “misery” but certainly there was angst. I understood what I needed to do to be in compliance but I baulked when I met resistance at the nail salon. I was embarrassed because I knew that what I was asking for was “slutty” and that it would identify me as a particular kind of woman. It was revealing. I was willing to be revealed if they made it easy but they chose to question me in front of other women and I hid myself again and gave into them.
When I met the iron hand of the dominant the next time we talked, I definitely felt angst, like any person who has not done the right thing and is told that unless they do, there will be severe consequences.
I was wrestling with the fact that what I wanted to do (baulk) and what I needed to do (comply) were two different things. Uppermost in my mind was that I definitely didn’t want to fail and I had to overcome my own internal resistance to do what I found hard to do.
As dramatic as the ‘Obedience’ post must read, I felt that my determination to forge ahead with the assignment and to have my new nails cut from my nail bed and replaced with longer nails was extremely significant. I had given over any complacency, any sense of embarrassment, any sense of humiliation or free will to someone else. I had finally come to grips with what a submissive woman does when she allows herself to cede all control. I wrote the post as I did because it was a momentous day in my life and one of which I am proud. This may sound odd, but it meant a huge amount to me to experience this sort of submission: to put my faith and trust in another human being to take me to a place that I did indeed ask to go.
My kink definitely is not misery and I am not particularly fond of angst, although I understand that there will be moments of angst and even misery as I wrestle my submissive demons. If I could use one word to describe my kink it is ‘care’. I want to serve another for sure; to care for another. But, I also want to experience care. It may not always look like it, but I feel confident in saying that my challenges (what I am told to do) are a form of care and I remain extremely grateful for these experiences and opportunities. I hope the above sheds some light as to my state of mind. Thank you again RG for such a thought provoking question.
Hello Vesta,
I'm glad you're feeling better. I have to own up to the fact that this is not a part of D/s I can really grasp emotionally. I get it intellectually, but that's the extent of it. And I respect your choices.
Okay, now that I've said all the correct things, I'm going to get opinionated. :P
This kind of misery over the length of a set of nails seems either an over-reaction or only half the story. Yes, I know it *isn't* about the nails, but obedience, but I just think that taking it to this edge over this particular issue is odd. And that concerns me, because I know that misery is not your kink (it is mine).
Remittance Girl is completely correct in saying that misery is not my kink. I think that is perfectly clear. I have entered into BDSM experiences in the hope of reaching the sun. I love to smile, to giggle, to feel light and happy. If I can get closer to the heavens and to a peaceful, contented and fulfilled state of mind, I want to go there by whatever means will take me there.
RG mentioned the nails situation in my ‘Obedience’ post. This is a situation that took place 18 months ago but I am happy to revisit my state of mind.
What I experienced was not what I regard “misery” but certainly there was angst. I understood what I needed to do to be in compliance but I baulked when I met resistance at the nail salon. I was embarrassed because I knew that what I was asking for was “slutty” and that it would identify me as a particular kind of woman. It was revealing. I was willing to be revealed if they made it easy but they chose to question me in front of other women and I hid myself again and gave into them.
When I met the iron hand of the dominant the next time we talked, I definitely felt angst, like any person who has not done the right thing and is told that unless they do, there will be severe consequences.
I was wrestling with the fact that what I wanted to do (baulk) and what I needed to do (comply) were two different things. Uppermost in my mind was that I definitely didn’t want to fail and I had to overcome my own internal resistance to do what I found hard to do.
As dramatic as the ‘Obedience’ post must read, I felt that my determination to forge ahead with the assignment and to have my new nails cut from my nail bed and replaced with longer nails was extremely significant. I had given over any complacency, any sense of embarrassment, any sense of humiliation or free will to someone else. I had finally come to grips with what a submissive woman does when she allows herself to cede all control. I wrote the post as I did because it was a momentous day in my life and one of which I am proud. This may sound odd, but it meant a huge amount to me to experience this sort of submission: to put my faith and trust in another human being to take me to a place that I did indeed ask to go.
My kink definitely is not misery and I am not particularly fond of angst, although I understand that there will be moments of angst and even misery as I wrestle my submissive demons. If I could use one word to describe my kink it is ‘care’. I want to serve another for sure; to care for another. But, I also want to experience care. It may not always look like it, but I feel confident in saying that my challenges (what I am told to do) are a form of care and I remain extremely grateful for these experiences and opportunities. I hope the above sheds some light as to my state of mind. Thank you again RG for such a thought provoking question.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Obedience (2)
It should not have been a rough day today. Technically, it should have been a very good day. After weeks of disconnection and upset (at least on my side) my mentor (for want of a better word) and I had reconnected, so to speak. To put it simply, he'd been hurt by my lack of obedience in London and felt that he didn't want to engage. My husband does a similar thing if he is sufficiently unhappy with me and I imagine they both have similar things in mind. I imagine that they are sufficiently disappointed and irritated and just hurt and upset by me to feel that I am the last person they want to engage with. I just seem to illicit that sort of response every now and again. I refer you to my Obedience post to help explain what I mean.
Thank the Lord, it doesn't happen often. If they are rattled by me, I can assure you I am even more rattled by them. "I'm not happy with you," my husband will bark at me every blue moon and he says it in such a way as to put the fear of God in me. Not physical fear because even if he decided that a sore bottom is what I need, I wouldn't fear that so much. The fear I refer to is the fear of rejection; of having illicited this sort of response in him. He can raise his voice any day of the week, passionate soul that he is, but when he reaches that very deep and angry voice with me, I do fear that I have pushed him into a zone where I hate to see him go.
In this case, with the mentor and me, he ultimately issued a punishment/assignment (depending on how you see these things). cindi wrote every day for a week but at the end of the week, it was clear he wasn't satisfied. (He might refute this. I am giving my interpretation of events here). I think he just wasn't satisfied that the week of denial of using my plugs had had a sufficient effect on me. I seemed "just fine".
I may have been defensive about that. I may have been a bit strident in my responses.If he wanted to experience me as a complete wreck he was welcome, I thought, but he wouldn't exactly like it once he actually got it! He didn't complain about the exchange per se but I am willing to concede that I was none too humble and he wasn't really satisfied with me all round. Privately, I was angry with myself that I managed to keep myself in trouble.
When I went to bed (and here it is best to know I have a wicked cold) I felt miserable and whilst I got a little sleep, it was intermittent and disturbed. I just felt that this discipline/lesson was going on a bloody long time and I wanted it to end. Now, I know full well that I don't have the right to want any such thing, but surely it is human to want to be returned to grace, and that's what I wanted. As it stood, it was another day without permission to plug and another day in disfavor. I so hate that.
Ultimately, my discomfort in all capacities led me to the kitchen to take 2 panadol and a glass of water. I sat down at my desk and whilst I had promised myself not to, I entered my google password and offered my usual introductory greeting to my mentor. When I am feeling upset, I so need to talk! Before I knew what I was doing I was weeping and telling him that this was all too hard; that I was too soft for the likes of him. He sent me back to bed; told me to get some rest; that this conversation could wait another day and fortunately I had enough sense to do that much.
But the long time in Coventry (longer than i have been in Coventry ever before) was unravelling me and by last night I was what I refer to as "dim" - lacking all abilities to save myself. Fortunately, he was of the frame of mind to save me instead but not without a grave warning. He needed me to understand one, simple message. He was the boss and not me and if I felt differently then it was time to go our separate ways.
I gave myself a moment or two, but no more to register the enormity of the message before I sent my acknowledgment that I understood and agreed with that. For several minutes neither of us said another word until I asked if may go to sleep and we said our goodbyes.I had been put in my place and where I wanted to be now was alone.
My ego is still strong; still shining bright and my ego needed to lick its wounds and bunker down in bed. It was very uncomfortable and unnerving to feel that way but dare I say, strangely erotic and arousing. It is moments like this when I realize just how perverted I am!
I have written these words in bursts. Not so long ago I took hot food to my son at school since he will rehearse in a play now for several hours this evening and for some reason as I saw the children at the school my mind returned to a day in my early childhood.
We were perhaps 8 years old and forbidden from playing games in the little cottage where we changed for sport, but we did it anyway. On this particular day, a Mistress caught us at it and she told the girls off in a certain area of the room. She was sending them to face the wall and I hated the sound of that.
I could see an opportunity. Goody goodies are almost always believed and since I was one of those and rarely ever misbehaved if at all, I approached the Mistress and said that I had simply been washing my hands. Did I need to do that too? "No, dear, of course not," came the reply. It was just assumed that I would never disobey rules and so I used that to get away with the odd naughty thing.
Now, I tell this story against myself (probably quite stupidly) because I am willing to admit (to myself too) that there is a pattern here. Most of the time I am good. One or two percent of the time I am bad, but it has always seemed to me that if I am good most of the time, surely those percentages are awfully good! So what if I manage to get away with the odd bad thing!?
I think this thought has really held me back in terms of this lifestyle. I did think I would get away without getting my nails done to the longer length. I did think that I could agree to things in London knowing that it would be difficult if not impossible to comply. Instead of discussing those issues, I did choose for myself.
And, as I think about other times in my life, although I was a committed Personal Assistant I did do the odd disobedient thing just like this. I would promise to mail letters on the Friday night only to rush out on a Sunday afternoon to get the task done. It was another case of deciding for myself what was important in the same way that directives from my husband not to touch myself have been disobeyed. It seemed such a little thing at the time and I couldn't see the harm. It is that 'little girl' tendency to get away with the odd trick or disobedient behaviour or choosing for myself that I haven't been entirely able to let go.
My boss was sweet but when challenged, tough.My husband is sweet but when challenged, tough. My mentor is sweet but when challenged, tough. Are you seeing a pattern here? Meanwhile, I dance around them thinking it my right to be forgiven quickly, when they have felt that they aren't inclined to do that over and over again, even if I am good most of the time.
It has been a hard, hard lesson, this 'obedience' thing. In the back of my mind at times is this thought that I can get away with the odd naughty thing whilst the dominant types that I associate(d) with have all felt that such behaviour is completely unsatisfactory even once, let alone repeatedly.
Of course, I knew this down to my boots a long time ago. I remember my boss's wife threatening to do something her own way one time and I remember him saying to me, "If she goes ahead, she won't get my blessing". I remember him being utterly ticked off about it. If she had gone about it in another way she would have got what she wanted and his blessing and that was the lesson I learned this week. If I had got what I now know to be "prior approval" I could have avoided this whole fiasco.
A lot of learning went on this week over here. Most important of all, I believe, was the importance of communication: of explaining the situation and asking for a variation if that is what is needed. All too often in life, I have tried to keep everybody happy only to lose the plot when I can't actually do it all. I have to learn to be honest and explain my limitations and constraints and explain when I can't do what is expected of me.
I am growing; growing all the time and that's why I am still here. When I hit a limit - feel the sting of disapproval, of correction and discipline, of being brought down to size - I want to run and hide and lick my wounds. But, the desire to grow; the understanding that this is oh so good for me brings me back from that dark corner to leap over that limit and get back into the line.
"I am afraid of making another mistake," I said to him last night and it is true. Being called to task is something I avoid like the plague but it seems unlikely that I won't ever make a blue again. It is the law of averages, I think.It is what troubles me the most - that I could fall from my perch again. I'm sure there are still lessons to learn about that but right now I just want to focus on being good and putting such thoughts well back in my mind.
The afternoon has ended well. I feel strong and much better for having written this all out. Isn't it the oddest thing that being put in your place can feel so darn uplifting! I think that might be the litmus test right there. There is no doubting that my nature, although a tad feisty, is truly submissive.
Thank the Lord, it doesn't happen often. If they are rattled by me, I can assure you I am even more rattled by them. "I'm not happy with you," my husband will bark at me every blue moon and he says it in such a way as to put the fear of God in me. Not physical fear because even if he decided that a sore bottom is what I need, I wouldn't fear that so much. The fear I refer to is the fear of rejection; of having illicited this sort of response in him. He can raise his voice any day of the week, passionate soul that he is, but when he reaches that very deep and angry voice with me, I do fear that I have pushed him into a zone where I hate to see him go.
In this case, with the mentor and me, he ultimately issued a punishment/assignment (depending on how you see these things). cindi wrote every day for a week but at the end of the week, it was clear he wasn't satisfied. (He might refute this. I am giving my interpretation of events here). I think he just wasn't satisfied that the week of denial of using my plugs had had a sufficient effect on me. I seemed "just fine".
I may have been defensive about that. I may have been a bit strident in my responses.If he wanted to experience me as a complete wreck he was welcome, I thought, but he wouldn't exactly like it once he actually got it! He didn't complain about the exchange per se but I am willing to concede that I was none too humble and he wasn't really satisfied with me all round. Privately, I was angry with myself that I managed to keep myself in trouble.
When I went to bed (and here it is best to know I have a wicked cold) I felt miserable and whilst I got a little sleep, it was intermittent and disturbed. I just felt that this discipline/lesson was going on a bloody long time and I wanted it to end. Now, I know full well that I don't have the right to want any such thing, but surely it is human to want to be returned to grace, and that's what I wanted. As it stood, it was another day without permission to plug and another day in disfavor. I so hate that.
Ultimately, my discomfort in all capacities led me to the kitchen to take 2 panadol and a glass of water. I sat down at my desk and whilst I had promised myself not to, I entered my google password and offered my usual introductory greeting to my mentor. When I am feeling upset, I so need to talk! Before I knew what I was doing I was weeping and telling him that this was all too hard; that I was too soft for the likes of him. He sent me back to bed; told me to get some rest; that this conversation could wait another day and fortunately I had enough sense to do that much.
But the long time in Coventry (longer than i have been in Coventry ever before) was unravelling me and by last night I was what I refer to as "dim" - lacking all abilities to save myself. Fortunately, he was of the frame of mind to save me instead but not without a grave warning. He needed me to understand one, simple message. He was the boss and not me and if I felt differently then it was time to go our separate ways.
I gave myself a moment or two, but no more to register the enormity of the message before I sent my acknowledgment that I understood and agreed with that. For several minutes neither of us said another word until I asked if may go to sleep and we said our goodbyes.I had been put in my place and where I wanted to be now was alone.
My ego is still strong; still shining bright and my ego needed to lick its wounds and bunker down in bed. It was very uncomfortable and unnerving to feel that way but dare I say, strangely erotic and arousing. It is moments like this when I realize just how perverted I am!
I have written these words in bursts. Not so long ago I took hot food to my son at school since he will rehearse in a play now for several hours this evening and for some reason as I saw the children at the school my mind returned to a day in my early childhood.
We were perhaps 8 years old and forbidden from playing games in the little cottage where we changed for sport, but we did it anyway. On this particular day, a Mistress caught us at it and she told the girls off in a certain area of the room. She was sending them to face the wall and I hated the sound of that.
I could see an opportunity. Goody goodies are almost always believed and since I was one of those and rarely ever misbehaved if at all, I approached the Mistress and said that I had simply been washing my hands. Did I need to do that too? "No, dear, of course not," came the reply. It was just assumed that I would never disobey rules and so I used that to get away with the odd naughty thing.
Now, I tell this story against myself (probably quite stupidly) because I am willing to admit (to myself too) that there is a pattern here. Most of the time I am good. One or two percent of the time I am bad, but it has always seemed to me that if I am good most of the time, surely those percentages are awfully good! So what if I manage to get away with the odd bad thing!?
I think this thought has really held me back in terms of this lifestyle. I did think I would get away without getting my nails done to the longer length. I did think that I could agree to things in London knowing that it would be difficult if not impossible to comply. Instead of discussing those issues, I did choose for myself.
And, as I think about other times in my life, although I was a committed Personal Assistant I did do the odd disobedient thing just like this. I would promise to mail letters on the Friday night only to rush out on a Sunday afternoon to get the task done. It was another case of deciding for myself what was important in the same way that directives from my husband not to touch myself have been disobeyed. It seemed such a little thing at the time and I couldn't see the harm. It is that 'little girl' tendency to get away with the odd trick or disobedient behaviour or choosing for myself that I haven't been entirely able to let go.
My boss was sweet but when challenged, tough.My husband is sweet but when challenged, tough. My mentor is sweet but when challenged, tough. Are you seeing a pattern here? Meanwhile, I dance around them thinking it my right to be forgiven quickly, when they have felt that they aren't inclined to do that over and over again, even if I am good most of the time.
It has been a hard, hard lesson, this 'obedience' thing. In the back of my mind at times is this thought that I can get away with the odd naughty thing whilst the dominant types that I associate(d) with have all felt that such behaviour is completely unsatisfactory even once, let alone repeatedly.
Of course, I knew this down to my boots a long time ago. I remember my boss's wife threatening to do something her own way one time and I remember him saying to me, "If she goes ahead, she won't get my blessing". I remember him being utterly ticked off about it. If she had gone about it in another way she would have got what she wanted and his blessing and that was the lesson I learned this week. If I had got what I now know to be "prior approval" I could have avoided this whole fiasco.
A lot of learning went on this week over here. Most important of all, I believe, was the importance of communication: of explaining the situation and asking for a variation if that is what is needed. All too often in life, I have tried to keep everybody happy only to lose the plot when I can't actually do it all. I have to learn to be honest and explain my limitations and constraints and explain when I can't do what is expected of me.
I am growing; growing all the time and that's why I am still here. When I hit a limit - feel the sting of disapproval, of correction and discipline, of being brought down to size - I want to run and hide and lick my wounds. But, the desire to grow; the understanding that this is oh so good for me brings me back from that dark corner to leap over that limit and get back into the line.
"I am afraid of making another mistake," I said to him last night and it is true. Being called to task is something I avoid like the plague but it seems unlikely that I won't ever make a blue again. It is the law of averages, I think.It is what troubles me the most - that I could fall from my perch again. I'm sure there are still lessons to learn about that but right now I just want to focus on being good and putting such thoughts well back in my mind.
The afternoon has ended well. I feel strong and much better for having written this all out. Isn't it the oddest thing that being put in your place can feel so darn uplifting! I think that might be the litmus test right there. There is no doubting that my nature, although a tad feisty, is truly submissive.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Entrapment
I have always felt a close attachment to males; not just to my husband but to many men in my life: my father, my brother, my ballet master and any one else who would allow me to get close. I have tended to make attachments to men and to get great succor out of knowing their minds. Frankly, I just enjoy their conversation and being around them.
I've tended to worry about this because unlike so many other women I know, I have preferred male to female company. One of the difficulties about marriage for me has been this assumption that underlies my life that I should be forging close relationships with women and not men.
This year, perhaps for the first time in my life really, I have really embraced my time with women. I regularly (weekly) have a coffee with two groups of women, at least, and I find this time incredibly comforting. We tend to laugh a lot. We tend to support one another through whatever the issue of the day happens to be and we are incredibly kind to one another. That is what I love about the time with them. It is not at all demanding and we provide care and approval for one another. As I said to my husband earlier today, they have all had such interesting lives and even though many of them are retired now, (I am the youngest member of my yoga group) they certainly have not retired from life. All their minds are as sharp as a tack and they have embraced me into their little circle as if they have known me all their lives.
This morning, seeing that I was clearly not myself, my husband hugged me and told me that I just need "to relax". I tried to explain to him that men sometimes made it hard for a woman to relax. They expected so much of women. They expected them to take on the worries and needs of men and at the very same moment, relax. I suggested that this was why women found women; perhaps why women entered lesbian relationships late in life sometimes; because they just needed to live life in a more relaxed environment.
I don't think I could be any more clear about the fact that my goal in life is to live it cerebrally and contentedly. I have always aimed to get to a place where the real world mattered much less. I don't mean that I don't care about what happens in the world because I do care very much. I mean that I look for a state of internal peace and a sense of satisfaction with life. I have always believed that we live in our head and that life is what we make of it. We must choose to be happy. We must embrace life and live it well. We only have one life so far as I know.
I believe that men gravitate towards women, towards having one woman to call their own not just because they need a mate to go through life with, but because women instinctively understand this about life. Women hold the keys to a peaceful state and men instinctively get it that to find joy they may need a woman to take them there. Of course, not all women know this and men can be disappointed when they realize this.
There are moments when the going gets too rough around men; the men I choose. They tend to be demanding men; men who ask a lot of women; who worry a bone better than I ever will; men for whom enough will never be enough. They exhaust me; frustrate me; make me question my tenacity and strength. Of course, I cannot live without them. They provide me with what I need in a way that a woman could never do. They call on something within that is intensely feminine and I need that.
My oldest son, who is inclined to write words on cards that bring tears to my eyes repeatedly said this to me on this most recent Mother's Day: "You were always there for me and I will always be there for you."
That is it. Perhaps it is one of my few strengths that I endure; that I go on loving and giving in all circumstances; that I just won't give up; on anyone or anything and certainly not in finding the joy in life. I am emotional. There is just no doubt about that. But, it is seen by only a chosen few - those who read here make up the vast majority. To the rest of the world I am "ethereal".
I have been fortunate to experience true and good friends who seem to innately know how to companion me on my journey. I think they see this gritty side of me: the side that exhibits distress but refuses to give up on a situation and rather than offering me advice, they simply sit beside me (figuratively speaking). I've felt their presence in my life lately even when we have not actually spoken and I have understood when their upset on my behalf has caused their opinions to spill over and be expressed. They know, bless them, that they cannot 'save' me because I respond to my own instincts at the end of the day.
Some one said something to me last night. He said that he knew what he was doing. Such supreme confidence! It impressed me at a moment when I needed to be impressed. And, as I write these words, I feel satisfied to add that I know what I am doing too. My inner compass drives me forward into terrain that is not at all easily navigated.
All I can say for certain is that I both lust for a settled mind at the very same moment that I lust for the company of men who can make that goal so hard to attain. A perfect world would be to live with the company of men and to also have a settled mind. Alas, I am drawn to emotional men; demanding men; wonderful and vibrant men. Poor me. Lucky me.
I've tended to worry about this because unlike so many other women I know, I have preferred male to female company. One of the difficulties about marriage for me has been this assumption that underlies my life that I should be forging close relationships with women and not men.
This year, perhaps for the first time in my life really, I have really embraced my time with women. I regularly (weekly) have a coffee with two groups of women, at least, and I find this time incredibly comforting. We tend to laugh a lot. We tend to support one another through whatever the issue of the day happens to be and we are incredibly kind to one another. That is what I love about the time with them. It is not at all demanding and we provide care and approval for one another. As I said to my husband earlier today, they have all had such interesting lives and even though many of them are retired now, (I am the youngest member of my yoga group) they certainly have not retired from life. All their minds are as sharp as a tack and they have embraced me into their little circle as if they have known me all their lives.
This morning, seeing that I was clearly not myself, my husband hugged me and told me that I just need "to relax". I tried to explain to him that men sometimes made it hard for a woman to relax. They expected so much of women. They expected them to take on the worries and needs of men and at the very same moment, relax. I suggested that this was why women found women; perhaps why women entered lesbian relationships late in life sometimes; because they just needed to live life in a more relaxed environment.
I don't think I could be any more clear about the fact that my goal in life is to live it cerebrally and contentedly. I have always aimed to get to a place where the real world mattered much less. I don't mean that I don't care about what happens in the world because I do care very much. I mean that I look for a state of internal peace and a sense of satisfaction with life. I have always believed that we live in our head and that life is what we make of it. We must choose to be happy. We must embrace life and live it well. We only have one life so far as I know.
I believe that men gravitate towards women, towards having one woman to call their own not just because they need a mate to go through life with, but because women instinctively understand this about life. Women hold the keys to a peaceful state and men instinctively get it that to find joy they may need a woman to take them there. Of course, not all women know this and men can be disappointed when they realize this.
There are moments when the going gets too rough around men; the men I choose. They tend to be demanding men; men who ask a lot of women; who worry a bone better than I ever will; men for whom enough will never be enough. They exhaust me; frustrate me; make me question my tenacity and strength. Of course, I cannot live without them. They provide me with what I need in a way that a woman could never do. They call on something within that is intensely feminine and I need that.
My oldest son, who is inclined to write words on cards that bring tears to my eyes repeatedly said this to me on this most recent Mother's Day: "You were always there for me and I will always be there for you."
That is it. Perhaps it is one of my few strengths that I endure; that I go on loving and giving in all circumstances; that I just won't give up; on anyone or anything and certainly not in finding the joy in life. I am emotional. There is just no doubt about that. But, it is seen by only a chosen few - those who read here make up the vast majority. To the rest of the world I am "ethereal".
I have been fortunate to experience true and good friends who seem to innately know how to companion me on my journey. I think they see this gritty side of me: the side that exhibits distress but refuses to give up on a situation and rather than offering me advice, they simply sit beside me (figuratively speaking). I've felt their presence in my life lately even when we have not actually spoken and I have understood when their upset on my behalf has caused their opinions to spill over and be expressed. They know, bless them, that they cannot 'save' me because I respond to my own instincts at the end of the day.
Some one said something to me last night. He said that he knew what he was doing. Such supreme confidence! It impressed me at a moment when I needed to be impressed. And, as I write these words, I feel satisfied to add that I know what I am doing too. My inner compass drives me forward into terrain that is not at all easily navigated.
All I can say for certain is that I both lust for a settled mind at the very same moment that I lust for the company of men who can make that goal so hard to attain. A perfect world would be to live with the company of men and to also have a settled mind. Alas, I am drawn to emotional men; demanding men; wonderful and vibrant men. Poor me. Lucky me.
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