Jun 30, 2012

Remembering a few things

"If only you could realise that your enough, as you are, even now when your sick. That's all I want from you. That you stop worrying about not being good enough for me, and keep on being yourself. I don't care if you do housework - as long as you are you, yourself, and stay here with me."

And I get that. I get what she means. And when she's talking to me, I do believe I can do it. When I'm home alone these long, lonesome days, with only my own blaming voice in my head, it's much harder.

"I want you to remember some things. Some important things. You're good. And you're enough. And you're loved. Do you think you can remember that? I'll remind you of it, every day."

In the end she wrote it on my arm, with a heart around the words. That I'm good. That I'm good enough. And that I'm loved. Especially the last bit brought tears to my eyes - but then again, I cry a lot these days.

I'll remember it. And I'll find this damn depression-monster that is sneaking up on me and infecting my brain, and I'll kill it. So there. 'Cause I belong to her, and nobody else, not my own malfunctioning brain either.

(And then she wrote her initials on one of my ass-cheeks, with a ball-point pen that tickled a lot, and she made me laugh. One of the billion things I love her for is how she can always make me laugh, no matter what.)

Jun 25, 2012


We're visiting my in-laws in their cabin by the sea, in the northern Baltic. The cabin is right by the shoreline, and there's something about the seas' constant motion and the sounds of water and birds and the wind in the trees that soothes my mind. On the one hand I seem to sleep or want to sleep all the time, on the other hand it feels like my mind is healing.

We seriously need to get that house in the country, away from noise and other people. I would feel so much better. But that means me getting a proper job, that can pay for half of such a house without me having to work full time, and that means graduating. One more poor year with full time studies, and then we can move forward.

One of the greatest thing with staying here is the sleeping arrangements. Little S sleeps with grandma in a small outhouse with room for two beds and nothing else, grandpa sleeps in the main cabin together with two big rottweilers that takes grandmas bed - apparently they both like that better than their normal arrangement. And me and Mistress sleeps alone in a small cabin a bit away from the main cabin, down by the water. Alone. The key word here is alone.

Little S wouldn't fit even if she wanted to, it is so tiny. But she wants to sleep with grandma, thank God.

Yesterday, Mistress chained my hands to a chain looped around my waist, and pushed me forward on the bed. I had a gagball in my mouth, and she proceeded to whip me, first with her hands, and then with a switch I had cut and peeled earlier. It was terrifying and horribly painful and beautiful and absolutely delicious, all at the same time. And she told me to scream if I wanted to, and that fact alone makes me love our little cabin by the sea.

Jun 21, 2012

We have a plan

In a few hours time I'm taking the car to work, and right now it doesn't feel to horrible. The panic went away, and we have a plan.

The thing is, that the thing that frightens me most is the idea that I'll lose contact with Mistress. Not as if she'll leave me or anything, but that I'll become shut down and not "there", not completely hers anymore, if the job takes to much out of me. I've been there before, it's not a fear out of the blue, more like hardwon caution.

I have two big problems when it comes to work, any kind of work. One is that I don't manage to stop when I need to, that I can't take my self seriously enough to say "no" before it gets overwhelming and I suffer. The other is that this apparently doesn't register on the outside either. It took forever for me, for us, to realise that when I was crawling along, desperately trying to do what was expected of me, hurting all over and in my head begging for realease - outwards, I looked fine.

This has caused trouble at least twice before, once with a job I had, working night shift at a crappy place, commuting three hours everytime, and studying full time also. Eventually I said "enough" and didn't go back there, but it hurt that Mistress didn't help me put an end to it long before that, because it turned me into a wreck. And I think the truth is that I shut down and not lied but omitted the truth - I simply have no good way of telling her, or anyone, how I'm feeling if it's bad.

The other time was when I was pregnant with little S, finished my semester without failing and then went on to a summer job in the last trimester. In hindsight, I should have ditched the last classes and skipped working, because I was so tired, so beaten down by this pregnancy. But I didn't, and again, I do think that Mistress would have helped me with that if she realised exactly what my condition was. But she didn't. Because, again, it just don't register on the outside, and I, on the other hand, don't get that. I assume that how I'm feeling is written all over my face, and that she makes decision knowing fully well what that will do to my psyche and my body. And so I don't complain, or at least not much, and go and do what I have to. Until I'm broken.

Actually, there's a third time. This fall, after the pneumonia. I really really tried to tell her this time, I did tell, I said that I was afraid I wouldn't make it, that I needed a rest, that I was getting sick. But things just stacked up, little S got sick, our babysitters got sick, I wanted to finish school and Mistress job was crazy busy, and so I just kind of sucked up and shut down and did what I had to. And got depressed with suicidal thoughts and are still recovering. Not to mention never got healthy again and still have some kind of virus infection from hell that never ever lets go.

I mean, I can't say that I wouldn't have been depressed if I had been allowed to rest and recover in December, nor do I know that my somatic health problem is related to either. But it feels like it. And it was really really hard then, it hurt me.

Besides not being able to say "no", (which isn't about the power dynamic, by the way, but about a crappy upbringing and somewhat lacking parents. They still shut me out if I complaing or have a problem - otherwise, we have a decent relationship.) and besides not being able to convey my feelings to the outside world, I also think that I get more tired than other people. That there is something a little bit wrong with me, that would explain the stress and the depression and a few other traits I have.

I think I have a very spiky cognitive profile, meaning that if I would do test of my cognitive ability I would ace some of them, being scarily smart, and flunk others completely, appearing retarded. Most people have a level of intelligence and stay there, performing at an even level. But some of us are a bit more complicated.

Honestly, if I didn't have Mistress, I believe that I would have an ADD-diagnosis by now. But diagnosis are determined from how well you function in you daily life, and thanks to a very high intelligence in some areas, that I use to cover up my weaknesses, and thanks to a very structured and helpful life partner, I don't have a lot of problems with functioning. I manage school (with stress and depression) and our home looks clean and ordered (thanks to Mistress) and I'm a good mom (because that is my number one priority). That makes it unlikely that I would get a diagnosis, even though I for my part would be very interested to know what medication would do for my ability to perform day to day tasks.

Anyway, I think that also contributes to my fear of becoming exhausted - I get very tired from things other can handle easily, and I also appear to handle them very well. The problem isn't in my ability to perform tasks, the problem is the Herculean effort it takes for me to do them.

Our plan, however, is to evaluate before and after every shift how I'm doing, and for Mistress to remind me that it is ok to call in sick if I'm feeling badly. I kind of take for granted that I absolutely have to do what I set out to do - being reminded that quitting actually is an option should help. Not that I necessarily would quit, but knowing that she says it's ok should at least reduce the shame-factor. And she says she wont allow me to shut down and shut her out - if the prize for that is that is problem with the job than so be it. I will not shut down. And since that's what I'm most afraid of, and it seems like something I do without thinking, having her on the other end of the line, reeling me in, feels very comforting.

And it's not that many days. It's today, but then there's more than a weeks break before next time, and the whole thing ends 26 of July. And after that, we have four consecutive weeks of vacation together. Even if I'm all stressed out by then, hopefully I'll have time enough to get in shape before school starts.

I wish my mind and body worked better, and I love Mistress a lot for helping me making things work anyway. 

Jun 20, 2012

I don't wanna!

I'm starting my summer job tomorrow. And something with that just rips the heart out of my body. Ever since Mistress came home from work I've been desperately trying not to cry or lash out at her, and more or less failed at both. I need to hold it together for a little while longer, until little S is sleeping, and then I can cry as much as I want, if I still want to.

It's a lot of things. One is that Mistress finally finally finally has worked her last day at her office before Midsummer, she's working from home tomorrow and then she's taken a few days off. But it is after my job has started, and I'm very much afraid that the stress and load of beginning a new job will make me... I don't know. Unattainable? Shut down? A little crazy? As I mentioned before my way of dealing with stress is putting my head down and trudge along, shutting down non-essential (and some essential) parts of me in the process of coping. That doesn't mix well with Mistress' expectation of a nice mini-vacation. And I can't help being bitter about me being off any kind of work for three weeks, and her working her butt off during that time. When her downtime begins, my ends.

Another thing is that I'm terrified. I don't want to work. I've barely put my self back together from this semester, I'm still sick, in the meaning that I still have a low grade fever and gets very very tired several times a day, and I don't know - I just feel useless. Uncapable.

It's good that I have a job, not only because of the much-needed money it will give us, but because it will mean a reference on my CV when I apply for a real job, meaning a psychologist position, at this time next year. It's good to have something that has something to do with a psychologists proffession on there, instead of odd things like translater and substitute teacher.

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the pain. I'm afraid of what stress will do to my psyche. I'm afraid of failing, but even more so of the internal damage I can wreck on myself by trying to hard. I'm afraid of the exhaustion and the demands that will be put upon me. It's thirteen hour shifts. It's a completely new job. It's a job around mentally sick people. And I don't know - it just feels like I've been here before.

I wish life would give me a break sometime. A rest. I chance to get my bearings, to catch up and find my balance. But it hasn't done that this far, so I guess that wont happen. It's probably nothing wrong with my life - sometimes I'm seriously considering though if there's something wrong with me.

Jun 18, 2012

Back in the business! Yey!

We went to a LARP (Live Action Role Playing) this weekend, Mistress' parents took care of little S and we were away all Saturday into the night, we didn't get home until two. Except for something very akin a hangover because of the sleep disruption (the event didn't allow any alcohol, so it must have been the sleep-thing) it was great.

The thing is, me and Mistress met for the first time during the preparations before a LARP in 1997. I was seventeen, she was 26 and the oldest of the group of four who invited me to join them in playing soldiers in a fantasysetting depicting two army camps fighting over a small village. It was my first event, and it was life changing for me. I found friends and an interest that stills holds me, and I finally somehow found a place were I fit in. The LARP itself lasted for five days that time (that's a long long time to be playing, actually) but the consequenses lasted a life time.

Mistress and the others were involved in one specific society, a small organisation with something like 50 members, and I joined too. I did a lot of other stuff too, I participated in making a magazine about larping and went to a lot of different types of events with different settings and was very involved in the hobby for a few years in my early twenties.

Eventually I toned down my commitment and focused more on real life things, like getting a job and with time getting in to the university program I'm attending now. I started the relationship with my ex, and Mistress entered into it as the third party- much inspired actually by an event we participated in, were the setting was S/F and everyone lived in marriages of four people. That's one way larping changes lifes - it illustrates things that could be, allows one to try and feel and experience different realities, different solutions.

But all the time, I was still a member of this first society, or at least a hangaround - I haven't paid the members fee every year since -97, but I have been connected to it all the time. 2001, if I remember correctly, Mistress and I organised our first own event in this society, that focuses on one specific made up fantasy-world, that has been consistent since 1985, and lives in the hearts and heads of the players who creates an re-creates it at and in-between events. It's somehow both my own creation and my second home, as well as belonging to all my friends.

When I got pregnant and little S was born, we more or less stopped. We went to a few events, once when little S was four months old and Mistress participated once alone a while later. But our hearst wasn't in it, and we both decided that we didn't want to play our characters anymore. They had been around for a while, mine for eight years but Mistress' for something like twenty years. And still, for a variety of reasons, it was time to end them. So we did, on those events. Both were actually brutally murdered, in two unrelated scenes, by the evil evil bastards that always in exists in fantasy settings about epic struggles between good and evil.

But now, it's time to start again, and it makes me really really happy. Something has been missing from our lifes. It wasn't really a voluntary hiatus from our hobby, it was a forced on, a result of us bowing to the inevitable of sleeplessness and sickness and a gruesome workload. Having a kid was something like a thousand times more work and pain than I ever thought it would be. Not to mention pregnancy and delivery... It's not until now we have the time and energy to focus on something that isn't day to day stuff, firmly related to our reality.

And for some reason, we need this escapism. It was so great seeing Mistress doing something fun, something besides taking care of little S or me or working. She's so responsible, so hardworking, so very very conscientous - it was a relief simply to see her do something she likes, for herself. I'm better at that most days, I've kept breathing holes for myself, but she hasn't in many ways, and I'm so glad the pressure is letting up a bit.

We made new characters that was great fun to enact, and we had good equipment, we finally finished some things that has been waiting for us (I made a scabbard for a long sword I got for my twentieth birthday but haven't been able to use because I've had nothing to keep it in, for one thing) and I was proud of us. And the best thing is that we'll be able to keep these characters in the future, and keep playing them in a campaing friends of ours are organising for the next year or so, maybe once every third month. I'm so excited about that.

In a way it feels like getting my life back. My life, the one it appeared I accidentally traded in when we decided to become parents. I didn't get a child because I disliked my previous life, and I grieved that loss quite a lot when I realised what had happened during that first year we had little S. Now it seems it may have been a more temporary thing than I thought it was. I hope so!

This is me, and it's not until I got it back that I realised just how much it meant to me, to my feeling of being myself, and to my happiness. Getting out of this world now and then makes it so much better to live in.

Jun 14, 2012


I saw "the dog whisperer" this morning, some old episode. There's not much on at six thirty in the morning, and I take advantage of litte S' ten minute morning nursing to actually watch adult tv - hence Cesar Milan. Then it's kids stuff the rest of the morning. (Points for nursing - the little hyperactive bundle of nerves actually have to lie still and look inwards for a short while. That's gotta be good for her.)

This episode included a grumpy old bulldog, growling and biting and attacking at any signs of directions or influences from others. I'm so that bulldog!

There was a moment were the dog was growling furiously at it's owner, snapping in the air, and Ceasar makes everybody wait. Just wait. And the dog looks all baffled. It loses it's stride, there's noone to bite at, and the aggression turns to confusion.

Ok, then he pinns it by the ears and wrestle it down on the ground and he lost me, but that waiting, and the confusion in the poor angry dogs eyes, I could totally relate to.

The male owner tells him that he's been doing that and the only thing that happens is that the dog gets angrier. Yeah, says Cesar, 'cause it's a bulldog. It's bred for fighting. It will never give in, and if you hurt it, that will fuel the rage. If you sit on it and hurt it, it will fight forever. And then he holds the dog down by two fingers to the throat and strokes it gently, and afterwards it calmly waggles it's sturdy little rump in to the kitchen, which was the order it got so worked up about in the first place.

Actually, I do like this technique. On me. And ok, Cesar can do it too on dogs, I'm just not so fond of him trying to teach it to millions of people who isn't him and will screw it up (not to mention thin leashes behind the ears and all that potentially nerv damaging stuff).But the difference between force and domination? And the waiting while the dog bites at everything but an actual person? And the statement "he wants to follow, he just doesn't now how to"? Yeah! Good stuff! I wont be using it on my dog, but I will probably go around identifying with a grumpy bulldog all day.


Jun 13, 2012

The opposite of being broken

The discussions about being broken on the blogs that I read made me think about my relationship with Mistress, and the one I was in before. Because I can relate to the posts that's about wanting to be broken, but also to the more somber ones. In a way, I'd like to say that I've tried both.

In the first relationship (it wasn't really my first per se, but my first power exchange dynamic, and I was young, only 22) I did feel this urge, this need, to be broken, to be stripped bare and have all my defenses violently stripped away. We played hard, much harder than I'm really comfortable thinking about when I think back at it. I thought that if he hurt me bad enough, we would find something, there at the bottom, as if there was some sort of treasure or secret buried inside me, that would be driven into the open with enough pain, enough humiliation, enough tears.

There wasn't, of course. There was transcendence, though, a feeling of losing myself, of being one with him, and with everything. A feeling of everything being perfect and just right. And it's really cool when that happens, and it is worth striving for. To a point.

But I can get that feeling in other ways, in for me better ways. For one, I get it sometimes in the most mundane situationes. When rocking my baby to sleep. When resting at Mistress' arm. A feeling of piece and contentment and wholeness that is not exactly the same, but has the same quality, has the same feeling of perfectness and being out of myself. So that's one thing.

I also get it sometimes while participating in a LARP, when the experience of being another, of acting out another persons feelings and thoughts and actions, and being creative and suddenly having everything click into place in perfect harmony, gives that same feeling of transcending. Again, not exactly the same, but the same sort of expericence.

And I get it when Mistress plays with me, most usually when she beats me and I float away in bliss. I lose myself, I can't talk or move, nor do I want to, and I feel... away. In a good way.

And the downside of the things me and the ex did was that it hurt. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that it harmed. I mean, he beat me. And in the end it turned out that it didn't matter that I was turned on by that, that I had signed up for it, that I in many cases initatied it or begged for it. Or rather, of course it mattered, it would have been a ton worse if it hadn't been consensual, of course. But even so, it still impacted me.

Physically, for one thing, which actually is a problem because I lost some of my sensation in my ass, and that bugs me, and I got a latex allergy... That's mostly to laugh at, but it contributed to me having an allergy attack to walnuts last summer, which scared the hell out of me, made me spend the night at the ER, and makes me never allowed to eat walnuts again. The thing is, it's not that big things but they're there. They happened. What he and I did during a couple of years for kicks have given me lifelong consequenses I have to deal with, which makes me wish we would have slowed down a bit and taken it a little more easy. 

But most profoundly it impacted my mind. At the end the consensual part of the deal was no longer there either. There was no part of me left that could say no to him, until I was ready to leave him. But there was many many months before that, and especially at the end, were what he did was not in any way good for me.

I realise I'm being vague. I think I want to be vague. It was a painful time, I'm ashamed of many things, and I still feel loathe to say anything that will make him out in a bad light. I think that everytime I think of that time, I get back in that mindset of constant bad conscience and feelings of inadequacy.

What I do know is that when we broke up and I moved in with Mistress, I knew I didn't want to be hurt like that again. My inner painslut had gone into hiding, or maybe packed up and left.

We do S/M-play too, and I have no idea were we rank on any kind of severity scale. But I do know that I'm never broken. I always feel more alive, more energized, more like me, afterwards than I did before. With him, I was broken. I needed time to recover afterwards, because he put me in a state were I couldn't function. Mistress doesn't, and for me, I think that is much, much healthier.

Of course, I like me a good cuddle afterwards and I might not be at the peak of academic performance the second she pulls her cock out of me and allows me to get out of bed. But I'm still me and what she does, everything she does, makes me better and stronger and healthier and more of me, and that, I think, is the opposite of breaking. For us, that's the right path.

(Would I go down another path with her if she wanted to? Would I let her beat me and use me and break me like he did, if she wanted to? Yes. I would. Because I'm wired like that. I don't have those kind of shields up, for good and for bad. But since she doesn't do that, for the time being, I don't have to worry about that right now.)

Jun 12, 2012

True evil, I tell you!

First, she beats my ass with the very thick rattan 60 times simply because Sweden played Ukraine in soccer and lost with 2-1 last night, and then ten more times really hard just because she wanted to (those I really liked).

And then she went to pick up little S from grandma, and leaves we with an order to keep watching a very old episode from Dallas that's on, simply because she used to watch that all the time when she was little and it makes her nostalgic. At least she allowed me to have the computer on at the same time. But still. Sadist!

But that'sok. I've had two glasses of wine, so on the one hand I can't spell, but then on the other hand, I can stand watching Dallas. Without it, I might have regretted not having a safeword...

Jun 11, 2012

Good orders!

I got a text after dropping little S off at preschool. It was orders from Mistress, to take a long, at least 30 minutes, coffee break after getting home, and to text her if I wanted to do anything more strenous than watching tv or using the computer after that.

Ok. I can do that!

Restful slut-mode, here I come!

Jun 10, 2012

She nipped it in the bud - ha!

I'm sick. Again, and well, still. I haven't really recovered the last months, and this weekend it hit with full force for the umpteenth time this spring. One of the symtoms is sinusitis, I can breathe through the nose ok, but I've lost my sense of smell and when I blow my nose, there's blood. And that's actually what I'm going to write about, blowing my nose...

Because Mistress said I was blowing my nose too hard. We were in the bathroom, she was in the shower, I was trying to stop that irritating itching at the back of my nose and we were discussing the bleeding and if I should call the doctors again (bleeeergh! Don't wanna!) and then she comments on me blowing my nose to hard, that she was afraid I was causing it to bleed. And suddenly I'm furious, and more or less growls at her: "I do not blow my nose too hard! We've talked about this! It just isn't so!"

I think that "we've talked about this" was somehow the worst bit. Or maybe my tone - I don't think I'm supposed to growl. Or glare. Whether I made things better or worse by stomping out without looking at her I don't really know, but that's what I did anyway.

I stomped into the bedroom and sat there sulking, feeling worse by the minute. Eventually, Mistress came in and stared at me. I stared back. And then I looked down. And cast a glance at her again, and she was still staring at me. Slowly, I was actually feeling a bit more embarrassed and aware of my own behaviour, and a little less obsessed about the complete ridiculousness of her commenting on the way I blow my nose. After en eternity or so, I glanced up again and mumbled "sorry...".

She grabbed my ear between thumb and forefinger and started to ask questions; "who do you belong to?", "who controls you?", "who is it that makes the decisions around her?". My part of the conversations was restricted to mumbling "you do, Mistress" and eventually I asked humbly for forgiveness. She told me to put my hand out, I did, and she slapped me lightly with her own hand three time, and then forgave me.

And I thanked her, a lot. I didn't say it out loud, because I didn't have to, we both knew I thanked her for this time remembering that I am her little slut. Even when my behaviour is atrocious. I belong to her, even when at first glance I seem to act the complete opposite. Usually, a situation like this would have been the prelude to a long, long, bitter fight, with both of us convinced the other one had withdrawn all love and affection and the power dynamic laying in broken heaps around us. This time, only one of us acted like an idiot (that would be me) and she choose to do something different. Something that worked.

She's my hero. She's my hero for so many different reasons, but being able and willing to change, to try new things, to see situations in different lights and figure out what works, is one of the bravest of all the many brave things she does every day. Now I'll try to be even half as brave, and everything will work out just fine.

Jun 4, 2012

Seemingly a paradox

Isn't it strange that I'll let Mistress strangle me to the point of unconsiousness without any hesitation, and really can't come up with anything she would possibly want to do that I would refuse her, but I still gets angry and resentful and acts up when she asks the most mundane things from me?

The other day she wanted me to put another sweater on little S after I've already put her in her stroller, and I threw a hissy fit and stomped away, closing the door to the bedroom so that I could lay on the bed and sulk. While at the other times I let her bind me, gag me and beat me, with no problem. How does that make sense?

We talked about it yesterday, and it suddenly occurred to me that it was perfectly logical. The same force drives both of these behaviours. I want to please. I want to live up to her expectations and be as good as I can be. However, if I don't get very specific directions, I make up my own idea of what those expectations are, and the acting out happens when she gives me what I feel is contradicting orders.

If she strangles me, I interpret the situation so that I surrender and follow and doesn't fight back - to the point of fainting before I say anything. Because that's what I've learned she wants. If I was in a martial arts setting, training with peers, I would have no problems saying no or tapping on someone to make them stop what they're doing. Because that is "good behaviour" in that setting. And with the stroller - I had made the interpretation that the goal was to get little S ready for her nap and out in the stroller in the most effective manner possible, and thought I was doing that. I was already doing my best. When she went in and changed details in what I was doing, I felt criticised, corrected, deemed unworthy, in essence worthless and unjustly punished. That interpretation made me both ashamed and furious, and I withdrew.

"Ok" Mistress said when I tried to explain this to her, "then it's really only a matter of changing your interpretation of the situation, of being very clear about what I expect of you?"

And I wanted to leap with joy, to raise my hands in the air and shout. Yes! That's exactly it! I think I've been trying to tell Mistress this for something like... five years or so? Yes. Tell me what you want of me. Tell me when I do something wrong, and most importantly - tell me what you want me to do differently. I'm very good at following orders. I just need them to be precise and possible for me to follow.

It's when the parameters are fuzzy, as they usually are in day-to-day-life, that I derail. I need clear feedback, and help in defining the situation, if you don't like my interpretation of it. Just assume that I do as best I can to please and that if I'm not pleasing the only thing I need is to know what you want me to do instead.

I think that in play-situations Mistress takes much much more care to explain her expectations to me, and correct me if she doesn't like what I'm doing. In everyday life, things are simply supposed to flow along, and when they don't she doesn't really make the interpretations that's what's missing is clearer orders and more disciplin and control. I think she thinks I'm just being stubborn or willfull or disobeying her on purpose. And it might that feeling, that idea I have that she thinks that of me, that sparks my anger the most. Because it's really really not so. 

Jun 3, 2012

Breathplay workshop and insights about myself

Several months ago the women only gay BDSM-club that we're members of (we pay our membership each year, but the last three years we've been going about once a year), sent out their program for the coming six months, and there was an item on the program that I pounced upon like an eagle on a mouse. It was a breathplay workshop, and it was scheduled for today.

I actually emailed them the next day, asking if there were still places available (with a big smiley - of course there were, I bet I was first in line), and we paid for it as soon as we got confirmation. That was ages ago, but now it finally happened. In a way this is the start of my summer holidays - last exam three days ago, and my summer job doesn't start until July. This was a great way to kick off the summer.

We had the usual drama before finally making our escape - my dad was babysitting little S the whole day, and it was planned to be in his house, but my brother with wife and baby lives there too, and the baby, little S's cousin, got sick today, of course. Something like this always, always happens when we try to do something, especially if it is expensive and planned in advance... But dad could come to us instead, and we could get away.

I like that club. It's actually a local owned by a gay men organisation, and the small sister organisation hire it one Thursday every month, and for some special occasions. This was a joint effort from both organisations, and the instructor was a seasoned martial arts practitioner, who also had an obvious delight in any kind of breathplay. She was short and wiry and had a buzz cut and a steely gaze and talked very fast and very passionately about her subject, and was in fact very much alike my Mistress, which was kind of funny.

For once, I learned something new, which is always surprising and refreshing. Usually, I've already tried, heard about or seen most of the things people talk about, but this was specialised enough to have some new things in it. And it was very freeing to hear something other then "it's dangerous - don't do it" when it came to the safety aspects. 

For my part, I learned two important things about myself, even though I went to the workshop with the full intention of being a practise dummy and nothing else. The first was that there's a very big difference for me, in my reactions, between being strangled and being suffocated. Suffocation triggers panic in a few seconds, and even though I obey and hold still, I tense up and it was obvious that Mistress could read me perfectly and had no trouble seeing how I felt. The control and domination aspects of suffocation is hot and I like it, but the physical sensation is panic, pure and simple. I like my oxygen, it's as simple as that.

Strangling however, is a different matter. That's mostly what we've been into at home too, Mistress having her hands around my throat and me getting that nice swoony, dizzy feeling. We tried out a few new techniques today, were to hold and how to put pressure were, and yes, I like that feeling. I get all hot in the face and my ears start to buzz and it feels like my eyes are about to pop out, and something about it just feels nice. Painful and terrifying too, definitely, but not panicky like suffocating. Sexy and hot and painful, scary in a titillating, butterflies-in-the-stomach way.

The other thing I learned about myself, and frightened the instructor a little bit with too, I think, is that in this situation I don't give a stop signal. I don't do that tap on the other person to tell them I'm about to faint. I just don't. I've actually trained ju-jutsu a long time ago, I know how to do it, it's not difficult. But in this context, with Mistress, other training kicks in, and I'm utterly incapable of telling "enough". I'm perfectly at ease with giving information about how I feel, I would probably also be able to signal that I'm about to faint if that's what I'm specifically instructed, but generally signaling when I want Mistress to stop? No, I can't do that.

And when the instructor was asked by Mistress to show a specific grip around my throat she tried it out, and let go right before I was about to pass out, saying that she was expecting a tap a bit before that. I mumbled something incoherently and felt a bit embarrassed - I'm obviously not used to do anything but follow along and obeying, even when a more or less complete stranger is strangling me with her bare hands. That was interesting to know, and definitely food for thoughts.

The other thing I'm going to take with me from this day (except for the marks on my neck from Mistress fingernails) is the moment when we all introduced ourselves to the group, and I could say: "Hi! I'm c, I belong to A" as way of introducing myself. I like that. I wish I could do that particular thing more often.