Yesterday was a hard day. The clock was set back this weekend, and the change in schedule messes with all of us in the family. I think that was one of the reasons I was really really tired. And we had a busy week before that, a fun week but a busy one. We only had the one night in together, for the rest there was me going do the dojo for ju-jutsu, Mistress being a work event, me going to a party and so on.
And yesterday I started my week with four hours of lecture, from 8 to 12. Then I had a therapy client at four thirty and in between I had to get down town to leave my bike off for service. All of these things were essential, non-negotiable. Usually I would skip an hour or two from a four hour lecture, because my head really can't take that, but this was the first and only lecture in a five-week course, and we're only eight people there. Me leaving would have been noticed, one might say.
I was dead tired already when I got up, and took two of my anxiety pills even before leaving the apartment. It's no fun bicycling through the town and especially up the big hill in the middle during an anxiety attack. I didn't start to feel better until half way through the first hour, and then I got exhausted instead, and was about to fall asleep throughout the lecture.
The anxiety stayed with me all day, and it was raining and the cycle repair shop was closed and everything seemed to go wrong. And eventually Mistress sent me a text asking if I was angry or unsure of her or what was the problem because I was addressing her in an unusual manner. I looked through my texts from the day and realised I hadn't called her "Mistress" once. There were a lot of "Kiss!" and one "I love you!" but no "yes Mistress" or "thank you Mistress".
Sometimes she's very perceptive. And yes, there was something wrong. Not between her and me, but between my ears. I was all caught up in angst and exhaustion, and in order to get through the day I shut down. I do that sometimes, when I'm overwhelmed. And apparently calling her "Mistress" is not something I do just because, or without thinking. It's a conscious act of submitting and connecting, and when I'm shut down I'm neither submissive nor connecting. I'm on autopilot, and not very nice at all.
I'm glad she caught me. I'm glad she gave me the opportunity to feel inside and to explain and to fall into her arms once I got home. And then I ditched the ju-jutsu and crawled in to her lap and spent the evening collared and with my head on her chest watching teve.
Today all I've got is a client in the afternoon. The rest of the day is spent on the sofa. I was out running for a short spell too, and now it's lunchtime.
I think it's safe to say that I'm not well yet, and that I have a long way to go before my capacity is back up to normal. And even then my normal doesn't really look like anyone else's normal.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 27, 2012
Me and my persona
I went my friend I.s place yesterday, she and her room mate had a house warming party, about four months after moving in together. My friend I. used to live there with her husband/Master, and kept the apartment after their divorce went through this spring.
He was there, actually, and so was a lot of people. Friends of I. and friends of her room mate. My friend I. has been hanging with a lot of poly folks for a while now, and BDSM people of course. Some where from that crowd, others were other acquaintances, some LARPers and a bunch of people I didn't know anything about.
It was a good party, and I enjoyed it, but I found myself spacing out now and then, even in the middle of conversations. It was like my energy level was to low or something. It was a crowded place, the volume was high and I think all the stimuli overwhelmed me a little.
It was also very strange to be there without Mistress. I talked to a friend about that, I joked that I hadn't been to a party without Mistress for the last ten years, but now that I think about it, I think it's an accurate description. The easy explanation is that we prefer to do things together, which is perfectly true.
But also, that we don't like to do things apart. If she'd been there, I could have taken a rest in her presence. Merely her being there would have made it easier for me, easier to sift through the crowd to the people I really liked to talk to, easier to sit tight and wait and not necessarily mingle every second, easier to have someone to focus on to make the noise and the chaos less distracting. I could have buried my face in her lap or her arms for a short spell and then continued to party with new found energy.
And when I got home she was completely awake and waiting for me in bed, even though it was late. Because she has trouble going to sleep without me. It's not that she mind that I'm doing fun stuff and she's not there - but I do think she mind going to bed without me there to cuddle with.
Another thing happened too, at the party. A guy there, slightly younger than me, tall, with his head shaved in a funny pattern, deliberately pushed all my submissive buttons. I can't describe it in any other way. When he introduced himself to me, he gave me his name, took my hand, stared down in to my eyes and said "But you can call me Master... I think." Such a cheesy line, such a stupid thing to say. But combined with the eye contact and his general charisma, sure, it worked. He got to me.
When I was younger, I was deadly afraid of anyone finding that button. I had a more or less rational fear of being made a fool of, of being taking advantage of, of being pushed in to do something embarrassing. Most of all I think I was afraid that some charismatic girl or guy would come along, make me submit, not want me and laugh at me. It was not a fear of being raped or used, but a fear of losing face, of revealing my true self and then being shunned and mocked.
So I put up a very brave, very strong and very tiresome façade. I don't think that many who met me at that time would have pegged me as submissive. I fought that side of me tooth and nail.
Later on, I admitted my submissive side, entered into a power exchange relationship, went to clubs and admitted the truth to a few select friends. But I was still very careful about my public persona, and I didn't let my guard down in public.
Nowadays it's a very deliberate process for me to let that guard down. I feel so much better and more whole and authentic if that side of me is mirrored in others behaviour towards me. I don't want to come through as strong, capable, self-sufficient any more. I'm happy if I can relax enough for my submissive side to shine through, if that part of me can be seen and validated.
So in a way I have opened up for the possibility of people doing what that guy did yesterday. It can be interpreted as a sign that I'm making progress in the process of being less guarded, less safe, less off-putting. That's a good thing, mostly. And I'm proud of myself that I'm not thinking "oh no, oh no, I have to change and put the guard up again immediately!". I'm not thinking that. If getting hit on in cheesy and not-so-subtle-ways by people with a dominant leaning is the price I have to pay, I consider that a bargain.
But it was unsettling. It was a bit fascinating to realise that the thing I've always feared could come true - some random guy could walk up to me, stare me down and have me yield to him. Because that was exactly what happened.
He didn't have much to show for his trouble, though. The only thing that happened was that I avoided him like the plague the rest of the evening. In the beginning he tried to talk to me a little, I answered politely but without eye-contact, and then I stayed clear of him. Whenever I looked around the room his eyes were on me, and that was really unsettling, but he laid off after a while.
I asked my friend I. about it, about what his deal was and she answered along the lines of "he does that to everyone, he's super-flirty and doesn't always know when to stop" and that made me feel better. More like he was simply doing his usual pick up-thing, than that he was interested in me as such. And I really didn't want him to be especially interested in me - the domination aspect aside, he really wasn't my type.
I actually like to be allowed to feel submissive, to be dominated by other people. That's the thing, I've realised that I appreciate being seen in that light. And, as I've always suspected, I am rather easy in that respect. But. I don't like being hit on and being demanded things from strangers, who hasn't yet found the way into my "good person" category. The rule is: First you show yourself as a sane, nice person with a winning personality, and then you start to boss me around in a light, caring way. And then you lay off and do not demand titles from me, or anything else from me, before checking with my Owner first (no one has ever done that, I'm not sure how that would be done in real life actually. But I would love for someone to try it. I bet Mistress would agree to almost anything just for the fun in seeing me go beet-red and want to run and hide out of sheer embarrassment).
I missed Mistress there. If she'd been with me, he wouldn't have done that, and if he had, I could have taken comfort with her. I think the being owned-part is a big part of why I dare to let my guard down more often now. I'm owned. No one is going to take me away or make me do things I don't want to or make me lose control, because that control is handed over to another. It doesn't matter how dominant or persuasive or charismatic someone else is, because I'm already taken.
I have a leash, and even though it allows me to submit if that is what I'm comfortable doing, it will be yanked the moment Mistress doesn't like what's going in. That's my safety net. That's my guard now. I don't have to show how big and strong and capable I am to keep myself safe - I can be weak and yielding and submissive, and trust that she protects me.
And if I look at the events yesterday, it did work. Yes that guy pushed my buttons, and he did manage to show himself dominant over me. Then I ignored him for the rest of the evening and had a good time talking with my friends. So even when something like that does happen, it doesn't have to be a problem besides me feeling uncomfortable for a while, and I really don't have to fear it. That's good to know.
He was there, actually, and so was a lot of people. Friends of I. and friends of her room mate. My friend I. has been hanging with a lot of poly folks for a while now, and BDSM people of course. Some where from that crowd, others were other acquaintances, some LARPers and a bunch of people I didn't know anything about.
It was a good party, and I enjoyed it, but I found myself spacing out now and then, even in the middle of conversations. It was like my energy level was to low or something. It was a crowded place, the volume was high and I think all the stimuli overwhelmed me a little.
It was also very strange to be there without Mistress. I talked to a friend about that, I joked that I hadn't been to a party without Mistress for the last ten years, but now that I think about it, I think it's an accurate description. The easy explanation is that we prefer to do things together, which is perfectly true.
But also, that we don't like to do things apart. If she'd been there, I could have taken a rest in her presence. Merely her being there would have made it easier for me, easier to sift through the crowd to the people I really liked to talk to, easier to sit tight and wait and not necessarily mingle every second, easier to have someone to focus on to make the noise and the chaos less distracting. I could have buried my face in her lap or her arms for a short spell and then continued to party with new found energy.
And when I got home she was completely awake and waiting for me in bed, even though it was late. Because she has trouble going to sleep without me. It's not that she mind that I'm doing fun stuff and she's not there - but I do think she mind going to bed without me there to cuddle with.
Another thing happened too, at the party. A guy there, slightly younger than me, tall, with his head shaved in a funny pattern, deliberately pushed all my submissive buttons. I can't describe it in any other way. When he introduced himself to me, he gave me his name, took my hand, stared down in to my eyes and said "But you can call me Master... I think." Such a cheesy line, such a stupid thing to say. But combined with the eye contact and his general charisma, sure, it worked. He got to me.
When I was younger, I was deadly afraid of anyone finding that button. I had a more or less rational fear of being made a fool of, of being taking advantage of, of being pushed in to do something embarrassing. Most of all I think I was afraid that some charismatic girl or guy would come along, make me submit, not want me and laugh at me. It was not a fear of being raped or used, but a fear of losing face, of revealing my true self and then being shunned and mocked.
So I put up a very brave, very strong and very tiresome façade. I don't think that many who met me at that time would have pegged me as submissive. I fought that side of me tooth and nail.
Later on, I admitted my submissive side, entered into a power exchange relationship, went to clubs and admitted the truth to a few select friends. But I was still very careful about my public persona, and I didn't let my guard down in public.
Nowadays it's a very deliberate process for me to let that guard down. I feel so much better and more whole and authentic if that side of me is mirrored in others behaviour towards me. I don't want to come through as strong, capable, self-sufficient any more. I'm happy if I can relax enough for my submissive side to shine through, if that part of me can be seen and validated.
So in a way I have opened up for the possibility of people doing what that guy did yesterday. It can be interpreted as a sign that I'm making progress in the process of being less guarded, less safe, less off-putting. That's a good thing, mostly. And I'm proud of myself that I'm not thinking "oh no, oh no, I have to change and put the guard up again immediately!". I'm not thinking that. If getting hit on in cheesy and not-so-subtle-ways by people with a dominant leaning is the price I have to pay, I consider that a bargain.
But it was unsettling. It was a bit fascinating to realise that the thing I've always feared could come true - some random guy could walk up to me, stare me down and have me yield to him. Because that was exactly what happened.
He didn't have much to show for his trouble, though. The only thing that happened was that I avoided him like the plague the rest of the evening. In the beginning he tried to talk to me a little, I answered politely but without eye-contact, and then I stayed clear of him. Whenever I looked around the room his eyes were on me, and that was really unsettling, but he laid off after a while.
I asked my friend I. about it, about what his deal was and she answered along the lines of "he does that to everyone, he's super-flirty and doesn't always know when to stop" and that made me feel better. More like he was simply doing his usual pick up-thing, than that he was interested in me as such. And I really didn't want him to be especially interested in me - the domination aspect aside, he really wasn't my type.
I actually like to be allowed to feel submissive, to be dominated by other people. That's the thing, I've realised that I appreciate being seen in that light. And, as I've always suspected, I am rather easy in that respect. But. I don't like being hit on and being demanded things from strangers, who hasn't yet found the way into my "good person" category. The rule is: First you show yourself as a sane, nice person with a winning personality, and then you start to boss me around in a light, caring way. And then you lay off and do not demand titles from me, or anything else from me, before checking with my Owner first (no one has ever done that, I'm not sure how that would be done in real life actually. But I would love for someone to try it. I bet Mistress would agree to almost anything just for the fun in seeing me go beet-red and want to run and hide out of sheer embarrassment).
I missed Mistress there. If she'd been with me, he wouldn't have done that, and if he had, I could have taken comfort with her. I think the being owned-part is a big part of why I dare to let my guard down more often now. I'm owned. No one is going to take me away or make me do things I don't want to or make me lose control, because that control is handed over to another. It doesn't matter how dominant or persuasive or charismatic someone else is, because I'm already taken.
I have a leash, and even though it allows me to submit if that is what I'm comfortable doing, it will be yanked the moment Mistress doesn't like what's going in. That's my safety net. That's my guard now. I don't have to show how big and strong and capable I am to keep myself safe - I can be weak and yielding and submissive, and trust that she protects me.
And if I look at the events yesterday, it did work. Yes that guy pushed my buttons, and he did manage to show himself dominant over me. Then I ignored him for the rest of the evening and had a good time talking with my friends. So even when something like that does happen, it doesn't have to be a problem besides me feeling uncomfortable for a while, and I really don't have to fear it. That's good to know.
Oct 25, 2012
Trust and things
The thing is, I'm deadly afraid to lose her. That's the fear that drives me when I get angsty. That she'll leave me, that I wont be good enough for her, that she'll decide she doesn't want me any more. Being sick makes me more of a burden, at the same time as this particular sickness (depression) makes thoughts like that seem real and plausible. That's kind of what depression does.
But I fear too that I'll lose her to illness. That the burden of taking care of me and little S and her job and not having enough fun things in her life will make her depressed too, or exhausted. That she'll drift away from me, not by intention but because of fatigue. That the sheer effort to put one foot before the other will take all her energy and there will be nothing left to me. Like I was this summer.
So when she express thoughts about being unhappy, about not getting enough of the things she needs (like sleep, or time for herself, or time and energy to exercise) it makes me really really afraid, and really really motivated to do something about it. And when she doesn't respond to all my helpful suggestions and doesn't follow through on my excellent (in my view) plans, I get frantic and frustrated.
And there I go again, taking responsibility for things that's not mine. I don't own that. She does.
If she tells me what's going on with her, it will ease my worries and make me feel more in control, and it will also let her take advantage of my perspective and experience. So that's generally a good thing. But she doesn't have to do that. She has every right to solve this problem the way she sees fit, involving me as much or as little as she likes.
And even though the depression keeps screaming other things in my ears, as long as she doesn't say anything else, my primary job is still 1) manage school and 2) get better. "Overseeing and managing Mistress health and make her tell everything so that I can have control" is not even on the list. It's on a different list. A black one. Crossed out.
I just have to trust her.I don't get why that's so god damn hard.
But I fear too that I'll lose her to illness. That the burden of taking care of me and little S and her job and not having enough fun things in her life will make her depressed too, or exhausted. That she'll drift away from me, not by intention but because of fatigue. That the sheer effort to put one foot before the other will take all her energy and there will be nothing left to me. Like I was this summer.
So when she express thoughts about being unhappy, about not getting enough of the things she needs (like sleep, or time for herself, or time and energy to exercise) it makes me really really afraid, and really really motivated to do something about it. And when she doesn't respond to all my helpful suggestions and doesn't follow through on my excellent (in my view) plans, I get frantic and frustrated.
And there I go again, taking responsibility for things that's not mine. I don't own that. She does.
If she tells me what's going on with her, it will ease my worries and make me feel more in control, and it will also let her take advantage of my perspective and experience. So that's generally a good thing. But she doesn't have to do that. She has every right to solve this problem the way she sees fit, involving me as much or as little as she likes.
And even though the depression keeps screaming other things in my ears, as long as she doesn't say anything else, my primary job is still 1) manage school and 2) get better. "Overseeing and managing Mistress health and make her tell everything so that I can have control" is not even on the list. It's on a different list. A black one. Crossed out.
I just have to trust her.I don't get why that's so god damn hard.
Fighting again.
I just went off the phone with Mistress, she hung up on me. Right after I declared that I didn't want to talk with her anymore, because everything felt wrong and bad and unfair. I'm crying and I have been for awhile.
Turns out that she refuses to share things with me because she claims that leads to catastrophe and negative consequences she can't deal with, and that she's sorry she ever showed me that she was unhappy.
And I feel that if she can't share things with me, if I can't support her and be allowed to be there for her when she's in trouble, what kind of relationship is this? What good am I, if I'm so horrible at supporting her that she'd rather lie than tell me things?
And what kind of relationship can we have when she's deliberately lying to me, and claims that is the responsible choice? I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with her being unhappy, knowing full well that she is unhappy, and having her tell me to my face that it's not the case? All the while seeing her unhappiness manifesting itself in a thousand ways.
Most of all I'm pissed off that she thinks she can hide things from me. She can't. She's a terrible lier. I know when something is wrong, and knowing it and not being told about it turns me in to a nervous wreck. I can't understand how she thinks that is better for me or would be less harmful to my health than her simply telling me straight out.
I get that she's in a tight spot. I know, I know very well, that she does a lot more than her share around here, and that time and resources are limited. I know that our decision that I should continue in school despite being sick and instead leave off responsibility for home and kid has left a big burden on her, and now that I'm starting to feel better it is gnawing on me that I get to do things; rest, be creative, exercise, meet friends, that she rarely gets to do.
But the thing is, the infuriating things is, that I know this! It's no secret. She's not protecting me or her pretending that all is fine, especially when no one buys the act. There is nothing I want more in this world than for her to be happy, and I would gnaw off my left foot if that could make it happen. I want to support her, help her, be there for her in any way I can, and I could do that a lot more and a lot easier if only she would talk to me.
But she doesn't. She lies and hides. And when something slips, like it did yesterday, she actually apologised to me for letting it slip. I think that classifies as around top ten of least wanted apology in the history of apologies.
I don't want to be open and honest and vulnerable and straightforward to someone who isn't the same to me. The idea makes me frantic.
---
We skipped that whole talking-in-the-phone-part and went to emails instead. Actually a good medium for us - we're so damn emotional and reactive that a IRL-conversation very easily spins out of hand.
No, she didn't mean she would or should lie to me. Yes there are things I can do for her. Yes, I'm a valuable part of her life and having me is a lot more on the pro-side than on the con-side. Yes, I shall back off and give her space and we'll talk about it in good time, together and unstressed.
Crisis averted. Or well, the actual problem of us having much to small resources and her being exhausted and me being sick and our support-network totally bailing on us still exists. Those wont go away by writing emails about it. But now it feels like we're on the same side again, and that's the most important part. The rest of life will sort itself out, one way or another.
Turns out that she refuses to share things with me because she claims that leads to catastrophe and negative consequences she can't deal with, and that she's sorry she ever showed me that she was unhappy.
And I feel that if she can't share things with me, if I can't support her and be allowed to be there for her when she's in trouble, what kind of relationship is this? What good am I, if I'm so horrible at supporting her that she'd rather lie than tell me things?
And what kind of relationship can we have when she's deliberately lying to me, and claims that is the responsible choice? I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with her being unhappy, knowing full well that she is unhappy, and having her tell me to my face that it's not the case? All the while seeing her unhappiness manifesting itself in a thousand ways.
Most of all I'm pissed off that she thinks she can hide things from me. She can't. She's a terrible lier. I know when something is wrong, and knowing it and not being told about it turns me in to a nervous wreck. I can't understand how she thinks that is better for me or would be less harmful to my health than her simply telling me straight out.
I get that she's in a tight spot. I know, I know very well, that she does a lot more than her share around here, and that time and resources are limited. I know that our decision that I should continue in school despite being sick and instead leave off responsibility for home and kid has left a big burden on her, and now that I'm starting to feel better it is gnawing on me that I get to do things; rest, be creative, exercise, meet friends, that she rarely gets to do.
But the thing is, the infuriating things is, that I know this! It's no secret. She's not protecting me or her pretending that all is fine, especially when no one buys the act. There is nothing I want more in this world than for her to be happy, and I would gnaw off my left foot if that could make it happen. I want to support her, help her, be there for her in any way I can, and I could do that a lot more and a lot easier if only she would talk to me.
But she doesn't. She lies and hides. And when something slips, like it did yesterday, she actually apologised to me for letting it slip. I think that classifies as around top ten of least wanted apology in the history of apologies.
I don't want to be open and honest and vulnerable and straightforward to someone who isn't the same to me. The idea makes me frantic.
---
We skipped that whole talking-in-the-phone-part and went to emails instead. Actually a good medium for us - we're so damn emotional and reactive that a IRL-conversation very easily spins out of hand.
No, she didn't mean she would or should lie to me. Yes there are things I can do for her. Yes, I'm a valuable part of her life and having me is a lot more on the pro-side than on the con-side. Yes, I shall back off and give her space and we'll talk about it in good time, together and unstressed.
Crisis averted. Or well, the actual problem of us having much to small resources and her being exhausted and me being sick and our support-network totally bailing on us still exists. Those wont go away by writing emails about it. But now it feels like we're on the same side again, and that's the most important part. The rest of life will sort itself out, one way or another.
Oct 22, 2012
Being punished?
Late at evening yesterday while Mistress brushed her teeth, I crawled in to the bed, and only halfway remembered that I hadn't asked permission to do so. When she stepped in to the room I was sitting up, legs covered by the duvet, naked. "May I go to bed, Mistress?" I asked, the right wording, but totally wrong position.
"No, you may not" she answered, and I got my self up a little grudgingly and went over to her so that she could put the dog collar around my neck. "Bend over" she said and had me standing by the end of the bed with my hands on the mattress, and my butt sticking up. I stood with my feet firmly together and looked down on my toes. She pulled my panties upwards, and started to whip my ass cheeks with a belt she'd found hanging over the wardrobe door.
And I guess this was a punishment. There's some discussions going on on FetLife on punishments and what type of punishment people use and what differentiate punishment from "funishment" and some people say things like "I can't be punished with pain because I'm a masochist" or "I'm a masochist but the punishments are way more than I like" or, the all time favorite "I don't get punished because I'm not a child"... Love that one.
Anyway, nothing of that fits when it comes to us. I'm a masochist and a painslut and pain and corporeal punishment works just fine as a deterrent for me. But that doesn't mean I get overly harsh corrections. The things Mistress does to show me my place is typically less severe than what we do in a more playful mood.
Yesterday she whipped me hard, but not extremely in any way, I might gotten slightly reddish but nothing more than that. It hurt, a lot, but I liked it. It was dominant. It was sexy. It made me feel owned and cared for and appreciated. I made me feel sexy. It reminded me of her power, and of our respective places in our relationships. And it reminded me not to get in to the bed without asking permission first.
That's the thing. I might very well actually in some ways enjoy the things she does to remind me and correct me, even while she's doing them. I might appreciate the dominance and the sexiness and the safety that gives me. That, however, doesn't take away from the fact that it also serves to remind me of a rule and ensure that I keep following it. The same action might have several functions, that do not diminish each other.
Afterwards she told me to get up and did give me permission to go to bed, and I thanked her, first immediately while I curtsied and respectfully said "thank you, Mistress" but also later, in bed, while we were spooning and about to go to sleep. I thank her for taking care of me, for caring about me, for caring about us and, maybe, simply for being who she is and doing what she wants to do. I love that she can beat me whenever she want to, and when she thinks I deserve it and when she doesn't care if I've deserved it or not, simply because she likes it. I love belonging to her. Maybe that's the part I like about punishment, even if I at the same time try to avoid it as best as I can.
"No, you may not" she answered, and I got my self up a little grudgingly and went over to her so that she could put the dog collar around my neck. "Bend over" she said and had me standing by the end of the bed with my hands on the mattress, and my butt sticking up. I stood with my feet firmly together and looked down on my toes. She pulled my panties upwards, and started to whip my ass cheeks with a belt she'd found hanging over the wardrobe door.
And I guess this was a punishment. There's some discussions going on on FetLife on punishments and what type of punishment people use and what differentiate punishment from "funishment" and some people say things like "I can't be punished with pain because I'm a masochist" or "I'm a masochist but the punishments are way more than I like" or, the all time favorite "I don't get punished because I'm not a child"... Love that one.
Anyway, nothing of that fits when it comes to us. I'm a masochist and a painslut and pain and corporeal punishment works just fine as a deterrent for me. But that doesn't mean I get overly harsh corrections. The things Mistress does to show me my place is typically less severe than what we do in a more playful mood.
Yesterday she whipped me hard, but not extremely in any way, I might gotten slightly reddish but nothing more than that. It hurt, a lot, but I liked it. It was dominant. It was sexy. It made me feel owned and cared for and appreciated. I made me feel sexy. It reminded me of her power, and of our respective places in our relationships. And it reminded me not to get in to the bed without asking permission first.
That's the thing. I might very well actually in some ways enjoy the things she does to remind me and correct me, even while she's doing them. I might appreciate the dominance and the sexiness and the safety that gives me. That, however, doesn't take away from the fact that it also serves to remind me of a rule and ensure that I keep following it. The same action might have several functions, that do not diminish each other.
Afterwards she told me to get up and did give me permission to go to bed, and I thanked her, first immediately while I curtsied and respectfully said "thank you, Mistress" but also later, in bed, while we were spooning and about to go to sleep. I thank her for taking care of me, for caring about me, for caring about us and, maybe, simply for being who she is and doing what she wants to do. I love that she can beat me whenever she want to, and when she thinks I deserve it and when she doesn't care if I've deserved it or not, simply because she likes it. I love belonging to her. Maybe that's the part I like about punishment, even if I at the same time try to avoid it as best as I can.
Oct 19, 2012
A nice evening in
Bliss!
If I was a smoker I'd be having a cigarette by now.
We watched the first episode of True Blood season two, with cheese doodles and beer, and when Sookie and Bill started getting it on, her hand moved to my breast and begun to fondle it. When the show was over, we went in to the bedroom, and she ordered me on to the bed. She tied me down, feet together and arms spread wide apart, and secured the ropes in the bed.
And then she proceeded to beat me, hard, with the leather tawse. It was really difficult to relax, and I couldn't stop squirming until I started to really focus on the pain, on every stroke. By then she had one of her feet on the small of my back, pushing me down, and a rope around my neck, holding it tight. I was bound, pushed, strangled and beaten, and could finally drift away into the sensations. I know my breathing slows then, and my pulse too. She said she had to check on me now and then, to see that I was okay, but I didn't notice that. I just was, existed.
When she was done, she told me that for once she hadn't kept going until I started to bleed, but instead had kept going even though I was bleeding. That idea made me inexplicably happy. I hesitantly told her (or more whispered in to the pillows) that I would like to stay were I was for a while, and that I had this idea in my head that maybe she would go and do something else. I guess I pictured her going in to the other room and look up porn on the computer or something. Instead she said yes, she would leave me - and go walk the dog.
Which she did. I stayed, obviously, feeling completely at ease and safe on the one hand, and longing for her to come back on the other. She came back, not long after, slowly untied me and then we cuddled, kissed and eventually fucked until I saw stars flying around in the room.
Now I'm really really tired and looking forward to crawling in to bed with the one I love most in the whole world.
If I was a smoker I'd be having a cigarette by now.
We watched the first episode of True Blood season two, with cheese doodles and beer, and when Sookie and Bill started getting it on, her hand moved to my breast and begun to fondle it. When the show was over, we went in to the bedroom, and she ordered me on to the bed. She tied me down, feet together and arms spread wide apart, and secured the ropes in the bed.
And then she proceeded to beat me, hard, with the leather tawse. It was really difficult to relax, and I couldn't stop squirming until I started to really focus on the pain, on every stroke. By then she had one of her feet on the small of my back, pushing me down, and a rope around my neck, holding it tight. I was bound, pushed, strangled and beaten, and could finally drift away into the sensations. I know my breathing slows then, and my pulse too. She said she had to check on me now and then, to see that I was okay, but I didn't notice that. I just was, existed.
When she was done, she told me that for once she hadn't kept going until I started to bleed, but instead had kept going even though I was bleeding. That idea made me inexplicably happy. I hesitantly told her (or more whispered in to the pillows) that I would like to stay were I was for a while, and that I had this idea in my head that maybe she would go and do something else. I guess I pictured her going in to the other room and look up porn on the computer or something. Instead she said yes, she would leave me - and go walk the dog.
Which she did. I stayed, obviously, feeling completely at ease and safe on the one hand, and longing for her to come back on the other. She came back, not long after, slowly untied me and then we cuddled, kissed and eventually fucked until I saw stars flying around in the room.
Now I'm really really tired and looking forward to crawling in to bed with the one I love most in the whole world.
Oct 18, 2012
A good talk
Yesterday, as Mistress was tying me to the bed we discussed the appropriateness of me getting a massage and being slightly dominated by anyone else than her. And I get her point, which was "this sounds very much like when you and I started to fall in love."
And it does, in a way. Because it is what I do with friends I really like, when I finally let the guards down and dares to let someone in. I get all cuddly and a tad submissive. In Mistress case, it happened to be with my soulmate, my life-partner, the one who eventually came to own me and who I have given myself to completely. That doesn't mean that is destined to happen with any one I get close to or like, or for that matter cuddle with.
And I don't think she thinks that either. But I do thinks there's a sense of karma here, a sense of "how do I know it wont happen to me like it happened to him". Him, in this case, being my ex. Our ex. The boyfriend we shared (kinda) for two-and-a-half-year. I did leave him, eventually, and I did end up with her, and for a while there they were involved in a sort of tug-of-war over me, that was excruciating for all people involved.
I guess the most calming response would have been something along the lines of "How can you even think I would ever want anything to do with anyone but you?". And I did give that, in a way. She is my true love. And no matter any possible feelings for anyone else, I belong to her. I obey her, and I follow her, and she gets to decide what I do with anyone else, no matter the content of the relationship. I have no intention of ever leaving her - on the contrary, I don't think I would be capable even if I in some weird alternate universe would want to.
But I could easily picture having sex with someone else. Doing it by myself, purely on a whim or an infatuation, I can imagine, but I have to admit that the idea is immediately followed with feelings of dread and thoughts of her being hurt and of how it would eventually be extremely complicated (and this is even though this fantasy requires her consent - I can't imagine doing anything without that (literary, I can't. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true. Disobedience and deceit is not my thing)).
Most of my thoughts regarding poly or sharing involves her, of her lending me to someone else (that would be hot!) or her being with someone other than me (also hot, though a little more disturbing). Or of me being used or forced to submit in front of people, or with other people. But all these thoughts has her as the centre, as the driving force. Me alone going out and hooking up with someone else? Not so much.
And still I like cuddles. I like to be close. I like to be handled by others. In short, in safe and loving company, I like to feel that I'm appreciated, I like hugs and cuddles, and I like to be seen and treated as the person I am. Which more resembles a happy labrador than a grown-up professional. The labrador part of me, the submissive, happy, touchy-feely, vulnerable, non-thinking part, doesn't get out much, as opposed to the competent grown-up part, so when the occasion arise I get happy tingly feelings.
Eventually, she laid down the rules: I get to cuddle as much as I want, and have anyone do whatever to me, (as long as it feels good to me and doesn't hurt anyone, I assume was taken for granted in this) but I'm not allowed to let anyone turn me on without her present. That, actually, felt like a very clear cut rule to me, with the great aspect of me monitoring my own feelings and experience, and not making me responsible for others feelings and behaviours. If I'm not turned on, and someone does something inappropriate, I wont like it and remove myself. If I am turned on, I can notice that and remove myself before anyone does anything inappropriate.
And I still don't have to walk on eggshells, constantly wondering if what I do is okay or not, or if I'm doing something she wouldn't like.
When we had finished talking I was tied up and told to lie still, and she sat down at her computer and worked for an hour or so. I don't really know, because I fell asleep. When I woke up it was time for lunch, and while the water for the pasta was starting to boil, she fucked me senseless. Then we had tortellini.
And it does, in a way. Because it is what I do with friends I really like, when I finally let the guards down and dares to let someone in. I get all cuddly and a tad submissive. In Mistress case, it happened to be with my soulmate, my life-partner, the one who eventually came to own me and who I have given myself to completely. That doesn't mean that is destined to happen with any one I get close to or like, or for that matter cuddle with.
And I don't think she thinks that either. But I do thinks there's a sense of karma here, a sense of "how do I know it wont happen to me like it happened to him". Him, in this case, being my ex. Our ex. The boyfriend we shared (kinda) for two-and-a-half-year. I did leave him, eventually, and I did end up with her, and for a while there they were involved in a sort of tug-of-war over me, that was excruciating for all people involved.
I guess the most calming response would have been something along the lines of "How can you even think I would ever want anything to do with anyone but you?". And I did give that, in a way. She is my true love. And no matter any possible feelings for anyone else, I belong to her. I obey her, and I follow her, and she gets to decide what I do with anyone else, no matter the content of the relationship. I have no intention of ever leaving her - on the contrary, I don't think I would be capable even if I in some weird alternate universe would want to.
But I could easily picture having sex with someone else. Doing it by myself, purely on a whim or an infatuation, I can imagine, but I have to admit that the idea is immediately followed with feelings of dread and thoughts of her being hurt and of how it would eventually be extremely complicated (and this is even though this fantasy requires her consent - I can't imagine doing anything without that (literary, I can't. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true. Disobedience and deceit is not my thing)).
Most of my thoughts regarding poly or sharing involves her, of her lending me to someone else (that would be hot!) or her being with someone other than me (also hot, though a little more disturbing). Or of me being used or forced to submit in front of people, or with other people. But all these thoughts has her as the centre, as the driving force. Me alone going out and hooking up with someone else? Not so much.
And still I like cuddles. I like to be close. I like to be handled by others. In short, in safe and loving company, I like to feel that I'm appreciated, I like hugs and cuddles, and I like to be seen and treated as the person I am. Which more resembles a happy labrador than a grown-up professional. The labrador part of me, the submissive, happy, touchy-feely, vulnerable, non-thinking part, doesn't get out much, as opposed to the competent grown-up part, so when the occasion arise I get happy tingly feelings.
Eventually, she laid down the rules: I get to cuddle as much as I want, and have anyone do whatever to me, (as long as it feels good to me and doesn't hurt anyone, I assume was taken for granted in this) but I'm not allowed to let anyone turn me on without her present. That, actually, felt like a very clear cut rule to me, with the great aspect of me monitoring my own feelings and experience, and not making me responsible for others feelings and behaviours. If I'm not turned on, and someone does something inappropriate, I wont like it and remove myself. If I am turned on, I can notice that and remove myself before anyone does anything inappropriate.
And I still don't have to walk on eggshells, constantly wondering if what I do is okay or not, or if I'm doing something she wouldn't like.
When we had finished talking I was tied up and told to lie still, and she sat down at her computer and worked for an hour or so. I don't really know, because I fell asleep. When I woke up it was time for lunch, and while the water for the pasta was starting to boil, she fucked me senseless. Then we had tortellini.
Oct 17, 2012
Not a very good plan
When
Mistress met me and little S outside the pre-school after work and she asked
how I was I had to admit to feeling like crap. A lot of angst, very tired. This
made me ashamed, because I had a vague sense of guilt about it. “Is that why
you didn’t text me?” she asked and I denied it.
On the way
home I realized she was right (of course). I didn’t text her when I’d dropped
off little S in the morning, nor did I when I left home in the afternoon to go
get her. Both corresponding to times when I felt wiped and angsty, probably
forgetting to text because I was dissociating and simply going through the
basic motions of getting were I was supposed to go – with no energy left to
direct outward.
And that’s
not ok. If something is that hard for me to do that I can’t even text Mistress,
then I shouldn’t do it. I most definitely should text Mistress, or call her,
and ask for help.
Since I
didn’t, I continued to have a too high tempo that day. I went to my friend I. a
bit late, because I had a hard time getting off the couch, and then I stayed
there longer than I’d planned, because I was exhausted. And also because I
ended up with my head in her lap while she was massaging my head with a funny
wirey head-massage-tingy. It was cuddly and a bit dominant of her, and very
very relaxing for me, and definitely one of the best parts of the entire day.
But when I
left, it was lunch time, I was still really tired, and again, I should have
called Mistress. But I didn’t, I texted her and told her I was getting lunch
and doing some shopping that was pre-planned, and didn’t mentioned the parts of
feeling exhausted and confused.
I did get
lunch at a crowded sandwich-place and found what I was looking for, but when I
finally got home my mind was all over the place, and I still had studying to
do. Which I did, and then went to get little S and couldn’t understand why I
was feeling so bad.
I texted
Mistress that she was right and about my day, a short version, and when I’d
finally gotten little S to sleep at night I went to her and kneeled and
apologized. We backtracked the whole thing, and while talking I realized that
the real problem actually wasn’t that day at all, but the day before. When I
asked my friend I. about lunch and she preferred earlier, and I didn’t think
twice about it.
I should have
thought twice. It’s one thing booking in a lunch, it’s always good for me to
have company then, but it’s another thing to make a plan that involves me being
out of the home and in company for the whole day. When it didn’t go as I
thought, I should have asked Mistress. Instead I decided, presented it for
Mistress as a done deal, and refrained from getting in touch during the day.
I’m horrible
at time management. Unfortunately, I’m great at selling in ideas an presenting
things in a way that makes Mistress semi-accept them at first glance. It always
comes back and bites me in the ass in the end, and it’s not an acceptable
behavior from me towards Mistress.
In short, I
screwed up. Not by being angsty, and not by wanting to meet with a friend, but
by trying to manipulate Mistress and not asking for her input in my plans.
That’s a real screw up.
We were
cuddling on the sofa the whole time we discussed this, my head on her chest,
and now and then during the talk she slapped my face as the more damning
aspects of my actions came up. But in
the end, when all was said and done, I asked her for punishment. “Haven’t I
already done that?” she asked, and stroked my cheek with the palm of her hand.
“Obviously not enough” she concluded, and looked me in the eyes while she
lifted her hand up and delivered a stinging slap to my face. For a moment my
head was ringing and the world turned around a little.
And then
everything was well in the world again.
Oct 11, 2012
This gift-thing
I've been reading a lot on FetLife, my constant source of amusement and food for thought (mostly about how strange people are) that it's obviously not okay to say that submission is a gift. Or at least that a lot of people seem to think a lot of other people say that all the time, and are tired of it. Because it is so dumb, for some reason.
I've never actually read anyone claiming that submission is a gift, only the rant people have over those who allegedly claim that. It seems that even on Fet I run in strange circles. Anyway.
Obviously I started to think contrary that "hey! my submission is a gift! Isn't it?" but no, mine isn't either (which doesn't mean that not someone elses submission is. There's might be all gift-wrapped and sparkly, as far as I know). It's not a gift anymore than her control is, and that makes the whole thing kind of meaningless. Also, it's not really something I do voluntarily.
I don't have my submission and hold it out to her and say "I may give this to you, if you're good enough...". I don't give it to her out of the kindness of my heart, or because she's proven her self worthy.
The thing is I love her. And submit is the thing I want to do when I love someone. Not submitting is painful. Granted, I can withhold it if I don't feel safe enough, or I can at least try, but withholding submission means to also withhold love. And intimacy. And a relationship, more or less.
In the beginning, when I actually didn't really trust her to want my submission, when I was full of doubt about if a submissive girlfriend really was what she wanted and if I would actually be safe and appreciated by her, I did try to not submit to her. Several times. And each and every time it ended with me broken down in tears because I couldn't imagine a life without loving her, and I couldn't do that, I couldn't be with her, if she didn't want my submission too.
So it wasn't so much of a gift. More like a package-deal thing. With me, submission comes in the bargain if I happen to fall in love with you.
I have fallen in love once with a man who didn't want that part of me. He didn't want me at all actually, as far as I know, (except as a friend) even if there was an agonising period of mixed signals and misunderstandings. He might just not have been that into me. But he definitely didn't want my submission, and it's equally evident to me that that's simply how I love.
So a big thing for me when it became just Mistress and me was if she really wanted me, the whole me, if she wanted my love as it is, even though it's a bit twisted and unique sort of love that means she has to step up to the plate and accept the role as the dominant partner. It was very easy for me to imagine her wanting me as a partner, but an equal partner, wanting my love but not my submission, wanting a relationship but not wanting to be the leader in that relationship. And I tried to anticipate that, I tried to be ready and okay with that, I tried - and failed.
Luckily, she wanted it. I think she wanted it from the beginning, but it took us a while to figure the whole thing out. I think that the love came first, for us, and the control and the submission and the power exchange followed inexorably from that, and a long time after that, after a lot of heart wrenching arguments, drama and quite a lot of therapy for both of us, came trust.
So no, it's not a gift. It's more of a condition. It's what I do when I'm in love, and she has my undying love, and so she has my submission whether she likes it or not. Her accepting it, her wanting it, feels like a gift to me. But I don't really think it is, either. I just think that she couldn't stand living with me if she didn't have the right to slap me around every now and then...
I've never actually read anyone claiming that submission is a gift, only the rant people have over those who allegedly claim that. It seems that even on Fet I run in strange circles. Anyway.
Obviously I started to think contrary that "hey! my submission is a gift! Isn't it?" but no, mine isn't either (which doesn't mean that not someone elses submission is. There's might be all gift-wrapped and sparkly, as far as I know). It's not a gift anymore than her control is, and that makes the whole thing kind of meaningless. Also, it's not really something I do voluntarily.
I don't have my submission and hold it out to her and say "I may give this to you, if you're good enough...". I don't give it to her out of the kindness of my heart, or because she's proven her self worthy.
The thing is I love her. And submit is the thing I want to do when I love someone. Not submitting is painful. Granted, I can withhold it if I don't feel safe enough, or I can at least try, but withholding submission means to also withhold love. And intimacy. And a relationship, more or less.
In the beginning, when I actually didn't really trust her to want my submission, when I was full of doubt about if a submissive girlfriend really was what she wanted and if I would actually be safe and appreciated by her, I did try to not submit to her. Several times. And each and every time it ended with me broken down in tears because I couldn't imagine a life without loving her, and I couldn't do that, I couldn't be with her, if she didn't want my submission too.
So it wasn't so much of a gift. More like a package-deal thing. With me, submission comes in the bargain if I happen to fall in love with you.
I have fallen in love once with a man who didn't want that part of me. He didn't want me at all actually, as far as I know, (except as a friend) even if there was an agonising period of mixed signals and misunderstandings. He might just not have been that into me. But he definitely didn't want my submission, and it's equally evident to me that that's simply how I love.
So a big thing for me when it became just Mistress and me was if she really wanted me, the whole me, if she wanted my love as it is, even though it's a bit twisted and unique sort of love that means she has to step up to the plate and accept the role as the dominant partner. It was very easy for me to imagine her wanting me as a partner, but an equal partner, wanting my love but not my submission, wanting a relationship but not wanting to be the leader in that relationship. And I tried to anticipate that, I tried to be ready and okay with that, I tried - and failed.
Luckily, she wanted it. I think she wanted it from the beginning, but it took us a while to figure the whole thing out. I think that the love came first, for us, and the control and the submission and the power exchange followed inexorably from that, and a long time after that, after a lot of heart wrenching arguments, drama and quite a lot of therapy for both of us, came trust.
So no, it's not a gift. It's more of a condition. It's what I do when I'm in love, and she has my undying love, and so she has my submission whether she likes it or not. Her accepting it, her wanting it, feels like a gift to me. But I don't really think it is, either. I just think that she couldn't stand living with me if she didn't have the right to slap me around every now and then...
Oct 1, 2012
Sickness and sex
And now I have a cold and a fever and bleeeh. I wanted to go to the dojo today, I've taken up ju-jutsu classes again together with a friend, and it's a lot of fun. But no, not with a fever.
And this is not like I had all spring, with a slight fever and dizziness and nausea - that was stress, and now when I know what it is, I've realised exercise actually helps and makes me feel better when I experience those symptoms. Unfortunately this is virus and exercise will only make it worse. Not to mention that I'm tired and off my game and would most likely spread snot and virus all over everyone else. And also, Mistress said I couldn't go.
The good thing is that I'm not feeling guilty. Or panicky. Or secretly relieved that I have a legitimate excuse to lessen my workload for a few days. Or ashamed of feeling relieved. I used to feel all of that, and some confusion and some more shame on top of that, every time I got sick, my whole life. Now I realise it was because the stressors of everyday life was too much for me to begin with, I was constantly pushed beyond what I could handle, and had constant angst because of that. That made being physically, noticeably sick a very mixed experience, riddled with shame and guilt.
Now, possibly for the first time since early childhood, the demands put on me is not more than I can handle, and I'm not full of guilt about the things I can and cannot do. And then a cold is simply a small annoyance, irritating but not something to fret about. Suddenly I realise how most people have it all the time.
I cancelled my appointment with a client tomorrow morning, it doesn't seem very professional to sneeze all over her. And also, I didn't want to go there. I wanted to be at home and nurse my cold and rest and feel better, and so I'll do that. Without angst. I'll most probably go to the seminar in the afternoon (if I don't feel a lot worse) and to a lecture Wednesday morning, because both of those is mandatory to the point of me having to do them next semester if I miss it, so it might be worth it to attend. But that's it. I don't have anything else mandatory this week, and I'm so glad it doesn't seem like the world is ending because I have a cold.
If little S gets it and can't go to pre-school, now that's another matter. Or if little S gets and and Mistress does, at the same time. Then I don't know what we're going to do - suffer, I guess. But for now, it's just me, and to be honest, I don't do much at home at this point anyway. Laying in my bed snuffling is not much different from laying in my bed not snuffling.
If I'd been feeling fine we might have had a lot of nice sadistic sex today, though. That would have been a more interesting blog topic. But obviously me with a head ache and a congested nose is not a turn on for Mistress, and there was only snuggling and conversations.
Saturday, though, was a different matter - I had done the packing for once, including the packing fo the toys, and Mistress got inspired. I found myself blindfolded, gagged and with taped wrists, and she beat me at all manner of places before she let me satisfy and eventually fucked me with her hand. I love being gagged and blindfolded - it takes away every impulse of action, and leaves nothing but sensation and trepidation. Oh, and I love Mistress. Especially in her leather pants.
And this is not like I had all spring, with a slight fever and dizziness and nausea - that was stress, and now when I know what it is, I've realised exercise actually helps and makes me feel better when I experience those symptoms. Unfortunately this is virus and exercise will only make it worse. Not to mention that I'm tired and off my game and would most likely spread snot and virus all over everyone else. And also, Mistress said I couldn't go.
The good thing is that I'm not feeling guilty. Or panicky. Or secretly relieved that I have a legitimate excuse to lessen my workload for a few days. Or ashamed of feeling relieved. I used to feel all of that, and some confusion and some more shame on top of that, every time I got sick, my whole life. Now I realise it was because the stressors of everyday life was too much for me to begin with, I was constantly pushed beyond what I could handle, and had constant angst because of that. That made being physically, noticeably sick a very mixed experience, riddled with shame and guilt.
Now, possibly for the first time since early childhood, the demands put on me is not more than I can handle, and I'm not full of guilt about the things I can and cannot do. And then a cold is simply a small annoyance, irritating but not something to fret about. Suddenly I realise how most people have it all the time.
I cancelled my appointment with a client tomorrow morning, it doesn't seem very professional to sneeze all over her. And also, I didn't want to go there. I wanted to be at home and nurse my cold and rest and feel better, and so I'll do that. Without angst. I'll most probably go to the seminar in the afternoon (if I don't feel a lot worse) and to a lecture Wednesday morning, because both of those is mandatory to the point of me having to do them next semester if I miss it, so it might be worth it to attend. But that's it. I don't have anything else mandatory this week, and I'm so glad it doesn't seem like the world is ending because I have a cold.
If little S gets it and can't go to pre-school, now that's another matter. Or if little S gets and and Mistress does, at the same time. Then I don't know what we're going to do - suffer, I guess. But for now, it's just me, and to be honest, I don't do much at home at this point anyway. Laying in my bed snuffling is not much different from laying in my bed not snuffling.
If I'd been feeling fine we might have had a lot of nice sadistic sex today, though. That would have been a more interesting blog topic. But obviously me with a head ache and a congested nose is not a turn on for Mistress, and there was only snuggling and conversations.
Saturday, though, was a different matter - I had done the packing for once, including the packing fo the toys, and Mistress got inspired. I found myself blindfolded, gagged and with taped wrists, and she beat me at all manner of places before she let me satisfy and eventually fucked me with her hand. I love being gagged and blindfolded - it takes away every impulse of action, and leaves nothing but sensation and trepidation. Oh, and I love Mistress. Especially in her leather pants.
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