Once upon a time..

Once upon a time in a faraway land there was a girl who dreamed. She dreamed of a way to live and love. But, no matter how hard she tried, the dream was a little beyond her reach.

One day, a boy reached out to her. Over time he showed the girl how to achieve her dreams. He showed her how to live and to love so that she was true to herself, just like in her dreams. He fulfilled her dreams. He rescued her.

The girl became attached to the boy. She was grateful to him and fond of him and held hope that they could always be friends.

One day the boy told the girl that it was soon time for him to leave. His work with her was complete.

The girl was very sad. She did not know how she would find the courage and the will to say goodbye for the final time.

As she sometimes did the girl returned to her notebooks for inspiration and guidance. She read these words:

“I’ll remember having loved you.”

“What shall we do tomorrow? Let’s think about it tomorrow.”

“To live is to prepare for goodbyes.”

“On death, some look back on having loved and some look back on having been loved.”

“I love you.” “Was that so hard to say?”

All these words she found on the one page, notes she had written a year ago, almost to the day.

And, in these words she found her strength. She could do nothing about the fact that it was time to say goodbye. This was out of her control. But through him and his guidance, she had both loved and had been loved in a way that she had dreamed about ever since she was a little girl.

It was time to say goodbye and she was as ready as she would ever be.  It had been a very good thing. She would never regret it and she would never forget; altered for good.

Sayonara, my very dear and noble friend. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Live well. Be happy. And, so shall I.

New toyz

Wut a week 4 cindi! No soonr did her magik wand arrive (n she hab so much fun wif dat!) dan her onnir desyd 2 reeeeli cuntayn cindi dis mornin. She kenna c ne tin n she kenna say n e tin et ull. Onnir hab her get on2 her 4z n suddenli cindi ken feel dat der a brand new speriens 4 her.

Cindi nut no wut happenin reeeeli. She gotsa ideuh but she nut c dat new toy n she ken only gess. But wuteva dat toy it gibbin cindi da most AMAZIN sens8nz n she in nudder plays n tym.

If cindi hab eni ideuh – ENI IDEUH ET ULL – dat dat toy SO GUD she wood hab orderd wun in eberi cullir lung tym go.

Cindi strungli recummndz dat ull da bimboz hab at leeest wun deeez. Tym 2 own up now! Eni bimboz owt der??!!

What I know

A couple of the gals I read have been writing about their beliefs that we should do what works for us and not follow some other person's prescription of what the rules should be or how things should go. That is good advice. I think if one is going to read another web journal it is going to be about collecting interesting ideas that may work for us. I shudder to think that I ever write prescriptively. I try to make it very clear that my experiences are just that - my experiences.

Having said that, I have been collecting in my mind values and beliefs and rules and theories (call them what you will - maybe 'prerequisites'?) that I must embrace if this lifestyle is to work well for me (and my Owner). Some of those ideas may well be necessary for any power exchange relationship and some may be optional and some may be irrelevant. It is not for me to say.

Obedience: It is hard to get around the fact that obedience is expected. No matter how formal or relaxed the arrangement, without the submissive accepting the expectation of obedience, things go awry. My mentor who communicated with the doll was a stickler for it. Heaven help the doll when she disobeyed. You can't go through that sort of training without accepting and taking into your heart and soul that disobedience is a bad, bad thing. My husband has been more relaxed about my occasional devil-may-care-do-it-my-own-way approach, but he doesn't appreciate it, will berate me about it and in moments of disharmony will bring it up as a sore that hasn't healed. Dominants just don't like it, or that is the way it seems to me. If you want the relationship to go well, one has to come to terms with this.

Asking: Formal or informal, asking seems to me an important and even essential skill to master. For various reasons submissive personalities find this very difficult at times. Some submissives think their needs should all be addressed by the dominant. This doesn't really work because they rarely know all that the submissive needs and wants at any given point of time. If and when they don't get that right in entirety (or at all), the submissive needs to guide them.

Speaking respectfully and politely: Whilst this is a matter of style, Dominants and Tops do seem to expect this trait in their submissive. The doll was reprimanded fast and furiously if she was considered impolite, yet she never used honorifics.  She could be coquettish (though this did not necessarily give her what she wanted) and she could be playful but sarcasm, for example, was waaaaay out of line. One learns these things over time. My husband loathes me speaking impolitely and he would interpret this as being short or impatient; not answering questions directly.

If you put the above two traits together, one should presumably ask for thing politely and respectfully. This still trips me up. Sometimes, I wait so long to ask I am too frustrated to be entirely polite and respectful. This is a mistake and never goes down well. Asking as soon as possible seems to be an important lesson to learn. This weekend, I was frustrated enough to blurt out what I wanted. I wanted more use and I wanted more spanking. My tone was not appreciated but he didn't hesitate to get out his cane and that was a good thing at least.

Acceptance: Once power is given away to the Dominant, it does seem very important that the submissive not attempt to take control of events. Of course, it is life that things won't always go as planned and that matters will need to be discussed from time to time, but in two years I don't think the doll was ever given the opportunity to control anything. She tried. Trust me, she tried but it was always out of bounds and deeply, deeply unappreciated. My husband hates it if I try to control events. I think the dominant person finds it confusing, frustrating and sapping of their confidence. You ask them to lead and then you question the leadership. I have to watch this carefully. I have to watch it all carefully really.

Force: Some submissives would find the word itself abhorrent but I know I need some dominant force at times. If I do pick a fight (even sub-consciously) it is because I need to feel that dominant force over me. I want to be reminded that he is my dominant and I am his submissive and "all is right in my world...right here...right now" (as my meditation teacher will say).

Feeling the submission: This is going to look different to each submissive person, but I need to feel and experience my submission regularly. It pains me when my husband is absorbed in his work to the exclusion of reminding me in some way that I am his submissive because I really do best when those reminders are regularly given. This is not something I can control. I can do my best to be patient and understanding of his needs to focus on work but ultimately it will do me harm if I cannot express my submission in some way, somewhat regularly. This is the way I am wired and cannot be fought. Feeling some degree of dominant force elevates me (on some level) while not feeling that dominant force weakens my sense of self and enjoyment of my life.

That is how I see it.

Justice

I have a strong tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt. Even if they have done the wrong thing, I am not inclined to want them to suffer. I tend to think that there were extenuating circumstances or that maybe they were bullied on the schoolyard or that they don’t feel loved, to name just a few reasons why I don’t have black and white feelings about ‘justice’.

It is probably a good thing that I did not become a teacher, or a prosecutor or a judge or any such person who had to make the hard decisions about people’s behaviour. Prison movies freak me out and stories like ‘Oranges and Sunshine’ are not for me.

Yet, I have craved a situation where someone has the right to judge me – to direct me and order me; to discipline and punish me for even the most minor acts of disobedience. I have desired and made myself vulnerable to the sort of treatment that I could never inflict on another human being.

I never stop wondering why this is the case. I find it endlessly baffling that I should judge myself a success or failure according to how completely I am able to submit to another human being’s version of what I should do and how I should do it.

It embarrasses me to type that when I succeed in obeying completely I feel elevated and a success and when I don’t succeed in obeying completely I feel desolate and an abject failure – so despairing of my own disobedience that it can lead to a type of temporary paralysis and depression.

But, I know I am a decent person. I never break the law and I care for other people. I work hard and do what I can to help people in all sorts of ways. I try to be virtuous and to improve myself. I just don’t understand why I take the ability or inability to submit so darn seriously.

I recognize that life should be made up of a healthy dose of fun and there is much that is fun and arousing in submission. Surely we would not do it if there wasn’t some fun and arousal to be had.

Yet, the state of a submissive is that sometimes there is negative emotion to be dealt with – anger or at least frustration, upset, embarrassment and shame, along with accompanying feelings of regret and insecurity if we feel that we have not risen to expectations.

In fact, we accept punishment readily and even thankfully when a submissive such as me could never consider treating another human being in such a way.

I sometimes sit with myself and silently ask myself, “What are you doing?” Why am I tougher on myself than I could ever be on anyone else and why do I crave to be treated in such a way that will ultimately mean that I will judge myself so harshly – a “failed” submissive, potentially?

I have not the slightest clue but if you do, please don’t hesitate to enlighten me.

Set free: caged

The stress in our lives is bazaar, unreasonable and unrelenting and it is designed to be that way. The men on the other side are multi-millionaires; bully boys; nasty creeps. My husband who works from home at this time uses his intellect all day and all night to try to save all the shareholders from greed and underhand tactics; to outsmart their huge team of legal people, happy to sell their souls for huge fees.

Meantime, I feel myself unravelling at times; so desperate for this to be completed that I don't know what to do with myself to avoid imploding.

Some days I keep very busy, astounding myself at how happy I can still feel in the moment. Other days, like this afternoon I am not so lucky and I crave to be put in a cage with nothing to do; nowhere to go and nothing to think. I want the peace of a settled mind; a happy life; days without this pressure; bitterness; avarice and greed.

The girl can do nothing about this except endure it but cindi, without a worry in the world can let it all pass her by.

Now tell me honestly? Does not this cage in the photograph seem imminently more appealing?

Flight of fancy

Good evening, kind Sir. I wish to please you.
What is your fancy on this fair night?

What may I do for you, or rather
what would you care to do to me?

You toy with me.
Perhaps I might toy with you, too.

You seek your sadistic pleasures I know,
fear not; I translate it as thrill.

SEX

So, what it is all about, folks? Well, there are a number of factors but very high on the list is great sex. And, why is sex so important? I can't speak for you. I can only speak for me. It fills me with 'feel good' endorphins. It makes me feel that all is right in my world. It makes me glow. It makes my eyes bright and my lips form a smile and it makes me feel warm and tender to all that I meet in my path through life. It weaves its spell over me for at least 24 hours.

I feel completely alive.
I feel a woman.
I luxuriate in my femininity.

And, I think how I might engineer it that we can do it all over again, at the earliest opportunity!