Trust

Without going into details, my husband recently had a very upsetting conversation with someone with whom he is close and for whom he has done a great deal, including supporting him financially.

Over the years he has made huge allowances, bitten his tongue, forgiven and I suppose I thought he would continue doing this forever. There was a situation a few years ago where he had had enough and he told that person that he wasn't going to accept his accusations and his sharp tongue but over time they got over that fairly well. They were never as close but they weren't distanced either.

Very recently, there was another very difficult telephone conversation. The other person rang railing for a fight. In fact, he rang to ask a favour, if you can believe it, but instead of simply asking nicely (and my husband would have given him what he wanted willingly) he was accusatory and implied that my husband was holding back information. He seems to think, as well, that my husband has control over how a particular company in which he is invested fares, when he has no control over it whatsoever. The whole tone of the conversation was very confrontational.

It's not something that my husband hasn't lived through before with this person but for some reason it was yesterday that he chose to snap. He told the person that he wasn't ever going to allow him to speak to him like that ever again and he told him a few home truths about his attitude and his behaviour. It was not before time, I assure you.

We didn't sleep well because both of us loathe upset  and today as we debriefed a little in the car I said,

"You felt that he didn't trust you and that your integrity was being questioned."

I could see him thinking about that.

"Yes! I felt that my self had been attacked."

We can't and should not tolerate that. There must be trust and a strong belief in the integrity of oneself. It is perfectly right that we should be angry if this is compromised when our intentions are good and we only mean well. If that should occur, we need to hear an apology because when something becomes this personal, a line has been crossed and it must very definitely be put right if we want to heal that relationship.

In a power exchange, trust really is everything. I feel very confident in saying that now and nothing really good will happen until that trust is water tight. Sometimes, you have to step away to see that with open and clear eyes.

Temperament

When you pick a puppy from the litter or when a child is born, right then you have pretty much all the information you need about the temperament of that animal or child. Our male dog desperately needs regular doses of love and attention and he has an 'almost human' aspect about him. He's needy and he's the one that will whine when I leave them tied outside a store for a minute or two. The female, his sister, is much more independent. She has patience and she defers to her brother always. His appetite is voracious and he's happy to steal her food but in all other ways he's very doting and caring about her. Most of these characteristics were evident the moment we laid eyes on them. They were the last two of the litter and though we came for one dog, of course we went home with both of them

My children's temperaments were discernible immediately. My first son was active even inside me and he came out biting at the bit to get on with life. He was sweet from day one and this is how he has remained: active and sweet; a gorgeous, gorgeous boy; a born leader. My daughter was clearly independent. Impossibly late to be born (but amazingly the obstetrician allowed me to wait to give birth to her naturally) she was independent, feisty, stubborn yet very sweet from day one. She has remained just so.

My third child is a mellow child; loving; happy; specific in his needs and interests from the get go and so he has remained. He persists and lives life according to his own creed; a delicious sense of humor and fun was and remains present. My last child was always particular and always sweetness and light. He needed all things done his way but over time I see him adjusting and the flexibility increasing as he moves in and out of groups. He is a hugger; always considerate; always loving; deeply creative and smart. So, I have been very lucky: four beautiful, loving children.

My daughter has the temperament of her father. What I mean is that she has a trait of his that needed some adjustment. Just like my husband, she has a temper and she likes things done her way. They clash. What a surprise! Over the years, they have had some real ding dongs. They had a 'blue' on our old boat a few years back and the wind was in such a direction that I could hear every word from the house. If someone had asked if I knew who they were I would have denied any knowledge of either of them.

Since she has been living with us over the past few months, the environment has been fairly peaceful. For one thing, she's completely immersed in her new boyfriend and for another, she's really trying to be very sweet to her father; to approach him with caution and to use a great deal of tact and finesse when interacting with him.

Unfortunately, yesterday morning there was a blow out. Let me preface my comments by saying that my goal in life is to keep the family functioning on a even keel. I do lots of tasks to ensure that my husband need not get involved. He'd be lucky to tell you where items in the kitchen are, or how to fill a lunch box and so on because he is not involved and never has been involved in this sort of minutiae. This has worked and worked very nicely.

Yesterday morning was my last day to leave the house by 6.10 am for my special yoga breathing session in the park in the city. My son needed to be at school by 7.20 for a rehearsal and my daughter generously offered to take him before she had to be at her place of employment associated with the post-graduate work she is undertaking. I'd told my son his lunchbox would be packed. However, my husband, in his infinite wisdom decided to work right throughout the night and was having an early snack as I was about to make the sandwich.

"No. No. I'll do that. You get going or you'll be late."

"Are you sure?"

"I can make a sandwich. Go."

I left, with apprehension. The story goes like this, and is a compilation of my husband's and my daughter's version. She could see her brother was about to be late and seeing that my husband was preoccupied said that if he hadn't made the lunch they'd have to go without it. My husband, aware that he had become distracted yet again and not made the sandwich felt aberrant about that and somewhere in there they snarled words at one another and the heat and tension rose until she left for work upset and he remained upset, telling me about her temper when I arrived home.

Clever girl that I am, I said very little and merely listened. I've learned my lesson from past experiences about making judgements over their behavior. But, when my daughter came home that afternoon she wanted to talk and she was clearly still upset by it.

"I've been trying so hard with him but he is just so difficult..."

"I think you hit the 'guilty' button and once that is hit he says things that he doesn't mean. He gets defensive. You know this. You know he won't change."

"I told you that. Remember in the past, I told you that he wouldn't change when you were upset."

I smiled. "Yes, Yes you did. And, you were right. I've accepted him. I've even embraced him. He's a wonderful man with a temper. That is all there is to that."

Now, she smiled.  Just before she went off to her party that evening she found him and came and hugged him. Neither made any effort to say "sorry" both acknowledging it was better to let it go. And, that's fine.

There was one previous clash a month or so ago and that time she went to her boyfriend for an ear.

"You'll never win," he told her.

She told me that and I told her that he was clearly insightful. He was very right.

At first, I wasn't sure about this boy of hers. He definitely needed some rough edges rubbed off him but that is happening very nicely now. Even tempered and calm, he is a fine complement for her. She's definitely a lot calmer since she met him and she's a lot happier now that we have embraced him and he has embraced us, too.

I think that there can only be one person with a temper in any union; only one emotional meatball in the spaghetti. The other needs to have steadiness and an ethereal quality about them if at all possible.

That's when our marriage became so much better too; when I not only accepted that my husband's temper was here to stay but I embraced it. He is a lovely, lovely man with a temper and he probably came out of the womb that way. I may not always manage to remain level headed but then again I'm human and not an angel.

I recently asked my oldest son (my husband's number 1 fan) if he thought Dad could ever find another woman to live with him if something happened to me...

"No way, Mum. You're the one in 10 million."

I told you he was sweet!   

This life

I love my husband profoundly, deeply, absolutely, eternally and with passion. I want that to be absolutely clear. I can't imagine life without him. We fit together very well in every way: our bodies, our minds, our world view, our morality; everything.

Now that I have made that clear let me say that I can't imagine anything in this world more erotic, more fulfilling or more arousing than if my husband had had the mindset of an owner from the first day that we knew one another.

In some ways, he did have the mindset of an owner. I was always his girl. We were always a team. He expected that I'd follow him and that he'd have the ultimate decision making powers. That was all in place early on.

But, the business of training a girl just wasn't on the radar. For one thing, we were young and for another he had no yearning or natural desire to lead me to that life. He displayed no sadistic yearning and since I kept my masochistic desires well within me, he had no sense that anything was missing from my life.

I am prepared to say that there have been probably three occasions, perhaps more, when I have told him of my love and devotion but that I felt in some way that there was something missing, as if there was this need within me that wasn't being addressed.

In the early years, I could give him little detail about this feeling except that I felt I needed something more intense than we had. He loved me passionately and he always tried to allay my concern. He said that we belonged together and that we would always be together. I would try to forget about the longings and get on with enjoying life, but the feeling would return that in some way a part of me was not alive.

Eventually, I told him more about what I needed and he didn't hesitate to change for me as much as he possibly could. He read material and learned about the sort of dominance that I craved and more and more, I began to feel a whole human being; someone who was living according to their nature.

The truth is that some of the desires I told him about made him feel uncomfortable; or perhaps that I wasn't sure what I really wanted; the old story that 'you think you want it but when you get it you won't like it'. It was before children on a trip to Europe and in a town on the border of Switzerland and France (Chamonix, to be exact) that I first told him some things.

I can't remember how or when I told him about my spanking craving, or perhaps I didn't tell him and he gathered that to be the case from little hints here and there. I just can't reconstruct that period of time. What I do know is that he left the hotel room and when he returned it was with a switch. I was beside myself with lust and somewhere in that love making I did call out, "Please...please...take me up the ass." He didn't think I really meant it. He couldn't imagine that I could possibly mean it and it wasn't until two decades later (at least) that I assured him that I did definitely want that.

It wouldn't work for him to be the sort of dominant that I read about and to some extent crave in my fantasies and in my ideal world within my head. Our way of life has more of an ease to it than that. Over time, I have adapted to accept him as someone who has very high expectations of my responses to him. I no longer questions his decisions on any level or even attempt to answer without a respectful response (unless it is said in jest, at times). Our relationship is much more that of an owner/owned girl in many respects. It is all a part of me and him now and how we operate together.

But, I'd be lying if I said that life didn't shortchange  me there for a little bit. I would have loved to experience the full Monty. I would have loved to have experienced the fullness of having met a man  so dominant in his nature and with a hint of sadism that he pushed me and made me grow according to his own needs. Perhaps he wanted to mark me or insist on nipple rings or a small tattoo. Or, perhaps he insisted that I wear only certain clothes of which he approved, or that he told the hairdresser how my hair was to be worn, or how long my fingernails were to be. Perhaps, he had me perform a certain ritual each day or had me call him at a certain time each day with my thoughts. Perhaps he monitored what I ate or how often I exercised or what  I did with my time. All or any of this would have been insisted upon and demanded regardless of what I had to say about it.

I imagine that he wanted to educate me. He'd have me read certain books and he'd want me to express my feelings about them to him. He'd want me to achieve something for myself in this world and to this end he'd insist that I not put myself down, that I take myself seriously and that I have the courage to go out there and try. He'd believe in me completely and insist that I make use of my god-given skills to have the pleasure of succeeding by using them. He'd be stern about that and any efforts to put myself down would be met with a stern rebuke.

He would take me and use me in line with his own desires and my connection to him would mean that I wouldn't hesitate to oblige. If this meant accepting the pain he offered, this would be part of my life and it would be an expression of our love and my acceptance of him as my owner. I know I would flourish in this life because on the occasions that my husband has done this, I've experienced a heavenly rush of endorphins; a profound sense of adoration and happiness that I have experienced in no other way.

In my life, I've met his needs of a wife and he has now met all my needs of a husband. But in an ideal world, from the very first day my life would have focused around his life in every conceivable way, thereby feeding my intensely experienced desires. I would have molded into him and accepted his training of me as the richest and most prized of gifts and never known what it felt like to feel a hole in my heart; a desperate longing for I knew not what.

Loving me as he does, he wanted me to have what I so richly craved and concessions were made to grant me the gift of experiencing that sort of training; to know what it was to have a dress code formulated; to be trained to respond as an owned girl should. He knew that I was his well enough to allow me to experience the fulfillment of this need in a safe and respectable way and with a man I trusted and who has my trust to this day. His confidence in himself and in me and in our union is abundant and made that possible.

I write in this Internet space in some respects as an interloper. I come to this life late and I come to it in as complete a way as I can but with the knowledge that I will never know the life that some girls have. I am not jealous, but I am in awe.Yet, the pleasures I have experienced are entirely whole and complete. I have never been happier than in the past five years; never believed that I might have the opportunity to be this happy. If I were to die in my sleep tonight, the truth would be that I have lived completely; happily and according to my purpose.

Revelations

I read a few blogs this morning whilst having my breakfast. There were some lovely entries around the topic of the bottom sliding into that relaxed, 'no-thinki' state of mind and the top taking that opportunity to either ask questions that might reveal more about her state of mind or push that state into an even more erotic zone.

It's to that relaxed 'no-thinki' state that I go when using larger anal plugs. It's containing, calming and settling to be sure but as well, it's very erotic and it is a space in the mind where virtually all inhibitions are removed.

In that state, I can be asked a lot of questions. The answers are the type of answers I'm not likely to give at any other time and on the very odd occasion, I have been censured for my responses. It's all very well to get the girl to be open to anything, but when she reveals just how slutty her mind is capable of being, there can be a slight concern there in a man's mind, I think. Rather marvellous to have the girl so free to express herself but slightly daunting to realize that women really can conjure scenes of gang bangs and going to dark caves and being aroused by a man's body; potentially any man's body, not just his body. Rather disconcerting indeed to realize that a woman's brain may imagine that not all scenarios have him in them but rather a faceless stranger.

Even in this state, a woman hears the rebuke in the words and she quickly pulls back. Perhaps it is best to hold onto thoughts for herself, she thinks; to hold something back...

And yet the allure of being in the company of a woman with all her defenses down is quite irresistible and intoxicating for some men, it seems to me. There's no business suit and appointment book here; no pretty lingerie behind which she can pretend she is the perfect angel. The slut is revealed. Her mind is about pure pleasure; having her body used and then used again. Bring it on. See who outdoes who.

When she returns to her everyday state of mind and he has the opportunity to consider what she has revealed, I have to think his mind goes to all and any ways to make her his. Men talking of enjoying the marks they make because it is one more opportunity to say, "See those marks. Only I can make those marks. No other man would dare to touch this woman when he sees that I left those marks on her."  She's mine, he says to himself.

The silly thing is that a woman like me is likely to reveal herself in this way to no more than one, perhaps two and possibly three men in her lifetime. I'd take a guess that the vast majority of women leave this earth having told no-one about the details of their inner life. It's a huge compliment to be trusted in this way by a woman and take it from me, no matter how many gang bangs she can conjure in her mind, it is in her mind (and not down at the local football club) that those thoughts will stay.

Opportunity

For the past few months a condition has crept up on me and reluctantly I took myself off to the doctor who ordered an ultrasound that showed no indication of what might be causing my pain. Since then, I narrowed it down to some sort of pain associated with the digestive tract.

When the pain was at its worst I happily eliminated alcohol, caffeine and sweet foods and drank a lot of water and it seemed to me that the high point of the crisis had now taken place. One evening was so excruciating I thought that I must be passing a kidney stone but the doctor was skeptical that my diagnosis was correct and that's when he ordered the ultrasound.

 As well, I think we can trick our minds to accept pain as a matter of course and bit by bit I was adding suspect foods back into my diet: a glass of wine here and a cup of tea there. The pain wasn't that bad.

 If I had some candy or a few little Cadbury eggs from Easter I felt immediately ill and eventually I just had to accept the fact that like thousands of other schmucks, I had IBS (my diagnosis again, so the jury's out but apart from the fact that my appendix might be about to burst, this seems the logical conclusion).

What a containing experience this is! If the condition is to be managed successfully thought needs to go into nearly everything eaten. Caffeine and wine are out as are candy and chocolate and sweet foods. Red meat needs to be limited and pretty much all fats need to be severely reduced so that the cramping doesn't set in. Portions need to be small and foods need to be checked for fructose. It really is a crushing bore.

On the other hand, this situation is an opportunity: an opportunity to slow down; to keep my anxiety levels right down; to make an art form out of patience and to be more accepting that what is, is. It's an opportunity to be mindful of what I put in my mouth and to ensure that nothing gets into my body that isn't good for my body. It is an opportunity to just accept. This isn't necessarily a limitation on my life but an opportunity to live a better life.

I am a healthy person. Apparently, I'm a bit of an aberration not being on any medication whatsoever at my age and I'd like to keep it that way. It was just a matter of time before something happened whereby I would have to accept that I am not as young as I used to be and that modifications would have to be made. I have to say that it sucks that I can't have a glass of wine; one of life's finest pleasures but it is a small price to pay for health.

We spend a lot of time swimming against the tide in life, trying to control every last thing but we just don't know what tomorrow will bring; good or bad. If we can truly embrace that 'everything is okay', even if there are little things out of place, I truly think we can better make space for opportunity. It's all about having a positive state of mind and remaining joyful.

Dreams, threats and electric cords

My husband rarely shares his dreams with me in great detail, although I do know when he is dreaming usually because he will inadvertently move or call out and I know that he is chasing off a robber or trying to save us from a calamity or whatever. This morning he wanted to tell me about what he had dreamed. Apparently, he had been whipping me with an electric cord and it had left incredible markings, he said, and I had been crying out begging him to stop. I acknowledged the dream but I didn't ask any questions because I had a sense of what the dream had done to his state of mind.

Unsurprisingly, he soon blindfolded me and the games began. Just before the blindfold went on I took note of the time - right on 9am. And, when he took the blindfold off I noted that it was 12.25. Some dream, huh?

In the midst of such play I am never cheeky. It just wouldn't make sense to be cheeky when one is tied to all four bedposts, or is wearing a tight, tight corset and nothing else, or is being flogged with a flogger, or penetrated with various paraphernalia or having one's breasts sucked or twisted. I simply burrow deep down into a space in my mind where I have no say and what happens, happens.

It was at the 11.30 am mark that I dared to ask if I may know the time. Two and half hours. I had thought it much closer to three hours. I was aware that my patience was starting to wear thin but a word or two out of place, even at the end of a play session spoils it entirely for  him (and thus me) and I kept in my dumdum place through to the very last moment when the blind fold came off. (At one point I asked if the rope around my wrists could please be loosened and another time further down the track I asked if I may please be released from my corset because my efforts to procure enough oxygen felt thwarted, but each time I was extremely polite and patient so no problem there.)

When he had taken off the blindfold and I was starting to rub my eyes to acclimatize to the light he issued a warning. I was not to rebel in any way just because I had been contained all morning. Not a word of cheekiness was to pass my lips all day or I'd find an "electric cord" wrapped around my bum. Do you know, even after all that I almost said, "But, you don't have an electric cord" when I remembered that the iron's electric cord had an issue last year and thinking one day that he would fix it, he kept it in the garage. I recall seeing it there recently and in the nick of time I stopped myself from saying anything. The fun of saying the cheeky comment wasn't worth the risk that his dream was still in his mind. I haven't ever been whipped with such a thing but judging from what happened in the dream, it has a sting that I don't think I want.

If a threat is to be believed and there is a chance it will be carried out, threats can indeed modify a girl's behavior. It doesn't always work, mind you. I've allowed temptation to take me to the dark side before but I have always regretted it; always given myself a talking to as to why I can't push the words back down. Yet, I think I am definitely improving. It's almost time for bed, and I have been an angel all day. There is hope for me yet!

Anal training and agitation

I spent Friday night on my own. Well, first there were three people plus me to feed and finally just one person left in the house, apart from myself. I stayed up later than I meant to and the alarm went off at 5.30 am because I had forgotten to turn it off. I slept through a couple more hours but when I awoke I felt unrested.

The phone rang just before 9 am this Saturday morning with my husband asking a question. I was polite but not really chatty and he said to me, "You sound agitated, girl." I should know better than to bite at that piece of bait but alas I said, "Well, it's a bit annoying that you called me to ask this question. You could easily have woken me and I am very short of sleep."

He didn't like that and most probably because it was true. It was a bit thoughtless and his question was a bit obsessive. I didn't say any of that. I just stayed silent while I got a telling off. It raised my agitation and I did a few things after the call to try to rid myself of that feeling but it wasn't entirely successful. I remained agitated. I am still a little agitated.

I sympathize with him now that I think what his call may have really been about. Perhaps he called me to get a little relief from the visit with his father and I wasn't appropriately receptive to that possibility. His father now lives alone and his conversation tends to be rather negative and depressing now. Too much newspaper reading, radio listening and television watching has him thinking that the media's presentation of life is life. He talks about the doom and gloom as if that is all there is and as much as we love someone that can be hard to be around.

The definition of agitation is "an emotional state of excitement or restlessness." I am not really excited; more restless. I ask myself why this should be so. Hmmmm Well, nothing is really wrong per se except that I have a very strong desire to experience some sort of containment. It is what kept me up late; trying to read something or write something that would satisfy that need. The fantasies keep rolling through my head and there is no real way at this time to feed that desire. I think that's what is going on.

I could speak to the fact that when I am agitated I need to move; to do; to achieve. I am in the process of changing sheets and sorting the house because I am hoping that once I achieve something - a clean and tidy house at least, I will feel settled. It can't possibly hurt.

And, I went outside to the garden and experienced the beautiful morning. That helped but the work was inside so inside I came. Not to mention that I have a deadline; a story that is hanging over my head and the next week's module has to be done too. And, I have to go to the menders to fetch the school pants for Monday. It is a bore sometimes that there is always something to do.

But, they are all excuses and quite secondary to the fact that I have a strong desire to feel sensation. I'd gladly go over a lap or be bound or ...

Ohhhh, it just came to me. I know exactly what to do! Hang on a bit...

(Goes to bathroom and inserts anal plug)

Oh gooooodness, yes, that feels so much better. I feel lighter and brighter; ever so much more positive and ready to get on with the day. Literally, the fog has lifted in my head!

This morning in bed I read a good article about depression which you can read here -

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/22/magazine/the-science-and-history-of-treating-depression.html?_r=1&smid=tw-nytimes&seid=auto

The article talks of Prozac and serotonin and all that we have learned about the brain but it also talks about mood and emotion. There is a lot we can do to alter the thoughts in our head and thus alter our mood. An early morning walk; sunshine on our skin; listening to music we enjoy; thinking about what we can be grateful for; slowing down a bit and taking one moment at a time; being aware of our agitated state, noticing it but not allowing it to control us. This all helps.

But, nothing helps me quite like the containment of wearing an anal plug. I am not saying it will work for everyone, of course. My mind was trained to take enormous comfort in this ritual. Whether I am being told to do it or not, the comfort is indisputable. Call it 'use' or 'containment' or 'ritual' or what you will, it's a surefire way for me to feel at ease.