Assignment

Mistress is reading bedtime story to little S, and she gave me a few assignments to do while she was occupied. One was writing a blog entry, about whatever I wanted. Another was laying out three things she could hit me with and three things she could use to penetrate me with.

I love that. I get to choose the things I like and hope for, but I can't make her use any one thing or influence how she uses it.

She used the carpet beater on me yesterday. Ingeniously she varied the padding on me instead of the power of her strokes to serve as warm up. Well, at first she hit me with my trousers down but apparently I whimpered to much so she put them back on, and then something else - my dressing gown I think. Or maybe a blanket. And hit me full force for a while, which hurt but only just. She removed on thing at a time until she was down to bare skin again and by then I was all mellow and floaty.

Also, she used my own breathing technique on me, making me exhale and then not inhale until she told me to. I teach patients that to calm down and lessen anxiety, but counting seconds by hits with a carpet beater was not part of the original instructions. Worked very well, though.

Today we've been all kinds om jittery. I have what feels like bruises, but nothing shows, and I think we were both touched in our hearts. After reconnecting through pain and dominance we both have a need for cuddling and reassurance and just being close.

Unfortunately what was on the agenda was taking turns parenting a needy, hyper active and extremly jealous six year old. We both love her, deeply and dearly, but I think if a space ship had landed and asked to abduct her for a couple of hours, with a solemn promise of returning her unharmed and with a wiped memory, we just might have agreed.

The trick is to keep staying connected. To keep taking all the chances we get. It's hard, because it's so painful to get separated when we've been reunited. But the alternative, staying apart and distant from eachother, is frankly not acceptable.



Also, new rule. Or deal. Or experiment or whatever. When we are separated overnight, usually because Mistress travels for work, when we're reunited we wont argue. There's an arguing ban. No discussions, no conflicts, no solving of anything whatsoever. Twelve hours onwards from reuniting we are to swollow and accept anything and everything from eachother and forgive every wrong, look beyond every mistake and turn the other cheek at every slight. We're so damn nervy and twitchy and prone to conflict and crisis when we've been apart - if we could just keep quite and sit still for a day or so, I think it would spare us a lot of grief. So we'll try this radical, rather unflexible approach and see what happens.

And Mistress has formulated a goal that she shall beat me as soon as possible when she gets home, and at least withing 48 hours. We usually go sweet reunion --> horrible argument --> making up -->spanking. It would be nice if we could by pass those two in the middle.

Assignment: rules

Mistress gave me another assignment today: to list rules. Three rules we have, three rules we don't have yet but that I would like and three rules we don't have that I really wouldn't want.

So okay, here goes:

Rules we have:
1) I have to ask permission before going to bed at night.
2) After Mistress has said good night to me I'm not allowed to talk anymore before falling asleep.
3) I'm not allowed to eat sweets of any kind without asking for permission any day except Saturday.

Rules we don't have that I'd like:
1) Waiting for Mistress' approval before starting to eat when we are together.
2) Being naked, in a robe or otherwise dressed in some specific way when we're alone together in the evenings.
3) Having specific postures for different situations, for example kneeling beside her or standing in some specific way when waiting for her (when we're alone).

Rules we don't have that I wouldn't want:
1) Not being allowed at all to masturbate or orgasm alone.
2) Not being allowed to buy stuff at all or without prior permission.
3) Not being allowed to discuss our relationship or Mistress with other people, in real life or on internet.

When I started writing this assignment seemed really difficult. But it turned out to be pretty straightforward. And it made me think about the rules we have now, and why we have them and also about those we've tried but not kept. Those we have now survived the purgatory and are useful and simple. I wouldn't want to live without them.

Rules

Another thing we discussed were rules. We do have them, I'm sure of it. Sometimes, when I screw up, we notice them.

But the things that seemed sexy or challenging or at least a little kinky when they came in to effect are now very mundane and taken for granted. So maybe it would be a good idea to write them down. Both to remember them and to evaluate them and maybe to get that kinky feeling back a little.

We have one very definit rule I'm pretty sure is not going to be re-evaluated anytime soon. I got reminded, painfully, of that yesterday, when I forgot it.

Rule: I am not allowed to stick my tongue out to Mistress.

False advertisment?

Sometimes I want to make a t-shirt were I've written down everything that's odd about me. The thing is, the cool kids, the avant-garde, the norm-breakers, they tend to advertise. They have mohawks' and piercings and tats and cool clothes and listen to music that fits with their clothes and the crowd they hang out with.

When I went to gymnasiet (think High School, 16-19 years old) I hung out with a group of left wing vegetarians and vegans. They all had long hair, like really really long, long flowy skirts, and cared a lot about the environment and organised rallys and were politically aware. I was to. I did to. But I wore my hair short and had jeans all the time. Mostly the same pair - I'm not sure I owned more than one pair.

Later, I studied at the university and worked for a while, and I never got the hang of that outfit thing then either. Now I guess my look fits part of my life, since I look more or less like a frumpy soccer mom, and I am one - more or less. My friends are usually awesome people, really cool, and they tend to present themselves that way too. Many of them have looks that screams "alternative liftestyle" a mile away.

 And then there's me.

And on some level, it is annoying. I mean, I guess there's a reason why I look like I look - there's nothing stopping me from changing it up if I wanted to. Well, yes there is, Mistress would probably have strong opinions about any kind of body mod or hair changes, and clothes costs money, and make up takes skill and time and so on and so forth. And also, in the end it bothers me, but not that much. Not enough so that I want to make any wholehearted effort to change it.

Hence, the t-shirt.

It could say: "I have ADHD!". It could say "I'm still breastfeeding my three-year-old!". It could say "I once lived in a poly-tryad". It could say "I'm owned property". It could say "I get beaten bloody regularly and I love it". It could say "I'm bisexual". It could say "I live in a same-sex marriage".

Or maybe just a cloud of words: ADHD. Owned. Bi. Lesbian. Pervert. Masochist. Pro breastfeeding for toddlers. Poly. I'm strange and I know it.

Just so I wouldn't have to disappoint people all the time, just because they judge me by the cover.

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. 

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.

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.

Believe it or not, I am doing what she wants me to. Sort of.

A question on Fetlife again, leading to introspection. Reading the answers to a post in the O/p-group about arguing, it turns out that no, noone else seems to do it. Everyone else is much too respectful and submissive and so on to do that - they trust their Owner, you see, so why argue? And yeah, that is the question.

It wasn't all that encouraging to realise that my answer along the lines of "we fight like angry cats" definitely stood out of the crowd. If everyone else is much too obedient and submissive and owned to argue, not to mention know eachother and love eachother too much, and we are at eachothers throats three times a week, that does imply certain things. Like that we're doing it wrong. And that I'm not submissive enough. And other cheerful, uplifting concepts.

I used to think that there would be no arguments, no fighting, in a power exchange relationship. I mean, if one party can decide everything, then how could you possibly fight? I had a discussion ones with an owned submissive, this was back in 2001 or something, and I had never tried anything involving BDSM but was very much searching. She talked about her anorexia, and I asked how come her Master couldn't help her with that - couldn't he just tell her what to eat and not to eat? And she replied that yes, he could, but he couldn't control her angst.

I got it then, to my credit, and I get it even more now. It doesn't matter what we agree upon, we're still human, we're still ourselves. I'm still me. I have given myself to her, but I'm still me, and neither she nor me can control my feelings. My expressions of them, absolutely, but not the affects in themselves. Nor can she really control my interpretation of a situation in the moment, because that is instantaneous. We can talk about it, and we can agree about different suitable actions next time, and we can discuss the interpretations of different situations, and perhaps influence the way I see things the next time they happen. But in the moment? It is as it is.

One funny thing is is that I never used to argue, with friends or previous partners. Shouting at people is not very like me, as I was before. And I realised also, yesterday, that no, this isn't like me. This is like her. I'm modelling on her.

She didn't like how I handled stress or anxiety or anger when we first got together, because all the things I did centered on distance and self control and shutting things and people out. If I could lie through my teeth, hide everything I want, decide for myself what I want to and don't want to show, and withdraw from interaction whenever I please, then I'm fine. I wont argue, I swear. You wont even know I was hurt or disagreed with you. And you wont know what happened when I suddenly declare enough and wont take your calls anymore.

So ok, she didn't like that (go figure) and she's been drawing me out of my shell bit by bit. Unfortunately, I did what I did because I haven't been taught a better way (serious lack in my upbringing, this) and trying to do something else (when it was declared that lying in the fetal position for hours not saying a word wasn't an acceptable way to behave during an argument) I did wat she do, or my own twisted version of it.

She has a tendency to blow up, to get very angry very quickly, show it loudly and clearly, and then calming down. I, on the other hand, detest anger, gets mortally wounded if someone displays it,  rarely forgive anything and when I get mad, I stay mad. Not letting things get to me by shutting down and disengaging has been my strategy to get through life anyway, but with that strategy disabled, I flounder. Or rather, I fight.

So I think that is part of what has been happening with us. I'm not allowed to use my tried and tested methods of handling conflicts (or not handling them, as it were) and my alternatives are crude and rather violent. She hasn't stopped me because I think she wants me to express myself, she wants me to not withdraw and even though she hates what I'm doing, she likes it better than the alternative.

My job is to find a way to cope with my feelings and others, a healthy way, that my parents were supposed to teach me (if only they'd known it themselves). I'm getting there, but along the way I'm making mistakes galore. But now I'm sensing the end of the road, I see it just along the bend over there. I think this will be past us soon, and we'll take on other challenges instead. Soon! (Maybe next year, or so...)

Get on your knees and apologise - how hard can it be?

Ok, new rule. (I might need to write all the rules down someday, or maybe Mistress will order me to do it before I get around to it. Or maybe rules we both forget wasn't that important to begin with?). Anyway, new rule: when Mistress criticise me, or seem to criticise me, or I think she's implying some kind of criticism in something else she's saying, or I'm afraid she's going to criticise me in her next sentence, or something she does might be construed as criticism; I'm not allowed to run away, or immediately start defending myself in ugly, disrespectful ways.

Imagine that, huh?

As might be implied from the previous paragraph, I have issues with criticism (did you notice that?). I'm deadly afraid of it. Any kind of verbal correction makes me break out in cold sweats.This isn't only with Mistress, it's in any and all situations were any kind of achievement is called for. For the longest time, I didn't get involved in any activities were my absolute success wasn't guaranteed. This whole thing about working for your goals, improving with time, failing and trying again - not my thing. Success right away, seemingly without having to make an effort, or the potential prize loses all meaning and all I get out of process is shame and humiliation. Or so I thought.

I'm better at it now - a big milestone was when Mistress made me get into the car again after failing my first try at the driving exam. I did eventually get my drivers license, thanks to her, and as a matter of fact I flunked the exam twice and only passed on the third try. That was the first time I'd tried to do something difficult that was important to me, were I ran a real risk of failing.

So ok, I can do it. But in the everyday life of small things, Mistress not being pleased with me in any way (the smaller the worse, actually) is the dread of my existence. And since I'm rather disorganised, and grew up in a very disorganised home somewhat neglected and under a bit of chaotic circumstances, and she's very keen on control and order, she in fact quite often have reasons to be displeased with me.

I lose stuff. I forget stuff. I forget to do stuff. I remember important facts (like "I have to be in school super-early tomorrow, is it ok if you take the later bus to work and drop off little S at pre-school?") at the last minute, so that she has to rearrange her schedule to suit mine. I decide things over her head with friends and family and only tells her after the fact. I, again, lose stuff. A lot. And so on and so forth. Her strengths are my weaknesses.

And I think she wouldn't mind all that much, if I could stand her showing her displeasure. But I can't. I totally freak out. The merest whisper of a hint of a suggested complaint, and I go through the roof. I'm supersuperhurt and very very offended, and make sure the conversation very soon centers around her shortcomings, rather than mine.

As if I, somehow, could avert her irritation with me by denying and diversion. As if there's some watching, judging God in the room, whom I have to convince of my innocence and infallibility, and who, if convinced, then will make her irritation go away, by divine intervention. As if I can make her forget and see everything differently by shouting at her and claiming to have done nothing wrong.

Because that always works so well...

But no more. I can't do that anymore. Because she said so. And here's the kicker. Since she said so, since it's now an order from her, I really think I can change my ways. I've been trying to avert a great disaster, the disaster of her actually realising what a terrible, hopeless person I am, by all my smokescreens and big, dramatic scenes of anxiety and anger. She's suffered from it, and of course in any rational frame of mind I realise it's not contributing to anything, but the fear has made me do it, and the mere fact that she doesn't like it hasn't made me stop. But her orders will, I think.

The next time I feel horribly accused and unjustly treated, in desperate need of vindication, I'm supposed to go on my knees, or if that's not possible or appropriate at least take a position below her, and say something along the lines of: "It feels as if you're displeased with me, Mistress? Have I done something wrong?". She promises to take care of me, even if doing this as I fear will lead to a complete mental breakdown on my part. And honestly, I can't very well break any further down than I already do, and even if I do, I will most probably not be as obnoxious as I am while trying not to break down.

From now on, I'll simply go on and break down and let the disaster happen and let the chips fall were they may. She has ordered me so, and she has said that she'll deal with it and take care of me. That makes everything alright.

(In my head, I know I've behaved idiotic before, and that this would be a big improvement. In my heart, I'm deadly afraid and convinced she'll finally see right through me and deem me unworthy, if I dispense with the defence and the smokescreens. It's not that I believe my head over my heart - it's just that on her order, I'll take any chances and risk anything. This too.)

Caning and hockey and sleeping and stuff

And then there's the good stuff. Like her beating me with the rattan yesterday before bedtime, simply because it's the Hockey World Cup, and Sweden played Norway with 3-0 in goals when we shut the teve off and I get ten strokes for every goal. For no particular reason, except that she thinks it's fun and it makes me a little bit more invested in the game when we watch it (at least I look up and goes "Awww" when someone scores a goal, instead of shutting it out completely). Oh, and it's also sexy.

She didn't stop at thirty, but then again I didn't think she would. I had lost count by then (I lost count by two, or something) but there's a difference in the quality of the strokes when she moves from striking a preset number, to simply continuing because it feels good. It's not harder, per se, but different. Both are nice.

Well, nice and painful and difficult, I mean, someone is beating on my bare ass with a big stick, it's not nice as in cuddly-feely-feels good. But it's nice. It's good. It makes me feel that I'm owned and alright and that everything is as it should be. It makes me feel like myself, all the way deep down.

And then she hooked the chain to my collar and we spooned and eventually fell asleep, and gloriously little S slept all night which makes all the difference in the world.

The inner working of the power dynamic - or obeying isn't enough.

We actually had a rather deep discussion about the workings of our dynamic yesterday and today. It's been a long while since we had the time or energy to spare for that type of pondering, since it's not immediately rewarding.

During the last three years or so, we've mostly been talking either about stuff that's very enjoying to talk about (planning LARPS, discussing films, planning the summer vacation or dreaming about the house we're going to buy once I have my exam and a real job and an income), or that's not at all enjoying but really necessary to talk about (why the other one said all that stupid, hurtful stuff, or why our parents behave so strange/badly/intoxicated/unfair, or where little S' jacket really is, at home or at pre-school?). There's not been very much new to discuss about the M/s part of our life (besides from moaning about not having enough time for it).

But with us starting the discussion about a permanent collar, and actually having more time together and more serious play (it kind of hurts sitting down right now), suddenly new thoughts came to the surface.

I've always assumed that the most important part of me belonging to her (being slave, slut, property, whatever we choose to call it, being hers) is the fact that I obey. Which, in its crudest form, translates to "as long as I obey, I'm ok". She'll always now I'm hers, she can alwasy be sure of my submission, because the only thing she'll have to do to check it is give me an order and watch me jumping through hoops on her command.

And yes, she agrees, that's true as far as it goes. But it turns out that thats the minimum requirement. That I obey her orders is an important part of our dynamic for her too, but it hasn't got the pivotal role it has in my head.

She claims even that I would still belong to her even if I would screw up totally and at some point not obey her. That disobedience is not an immediate cause for total dismissal and complete relationship do-over, which I've imagined in my mind. Just as in any other area of life, it's ok for me to fail. Which in its way is very reassuring. I can't disqualify myself from the relationship by some simple mistake or slip of tongue or mind.

On the other hand, she also stressed that while obedience is good, it's not enough. And that kind of threw me. That she gives orders and I obey, we concluded, is one dimension of at least two of our dynamic. The other one we named, for lack of a better word, "attitude". It's something we're both really sensitive about, where very small gestures, nuances in words and eye contact, makes a world of difference. And it's in that dimension our difficulties lie.

I'm good at obeying. I have no problems with that (most of the time, anyway). She's good at deciding a course of action and executing it, that's not a problem either. What I'm not very good at, or at least frequently fail at, is showing an attitude of respect and reverence. I'm often to fast, to harsh, to demanding, bossy, angry, all sorts of things. I may think I'm submissive, because I'm ready to obey in the end, but in actuality, what is projected is an attitude very far from the reverantial, humble behaviour she would like from me.

She, on the other hand, has every intention of taking care of me, making good decision for my life, and making me do the things she thinks will benefit me the most. She's comfortable being the leader, and genuinely and authentically expresses her love by controlling and demanding obedience.That's not the problem. But when I disrespect her, she reacts with hurt and mistrust and dismisses me, interpreting my actions as if I don't want to be hers anymore. Which hurts me deeply, and makes me do all kinds of irrational things.

And sometimes in stress, regardless of our status, she freaks out and get irrational  and hasty in her movements and scary to me, an attitude from her that I hate and fear, and that for me breaks down my trust and safety. When she does that, I will still obey a direct order, but her attitude is such that I no longer feel safe in her presence.

What we really need to do, both of us, is cool down. I'm not sure it's possible for either of us to be less sensitive, less hypervigilant about the other ones moods and smallest gesture. But I do think we could cultivate our tolerance, expand the time we're able to tolerate the discomfort stemming from our partners bad attitude.

If I could live with her being nervous and unsure for a few minutes without having a complete breakdown, she would be able to regain her composure after a while, and come back to me. And if she could refrain from interpreting rudeness from my side as contempt and disrespect, and instead continue seeing me as her slut (albeit a slut badly in need of discipline) I would have time to realise my mistake and humbly apologise.

We need to get some redundancy in the system. As it is now, we're both on a hair trigger, ready to explode at the smallest provocation, and very inclined to interpret the others behaviour as negative. If we could just chill a little even when we sense a bad attitude from our counterpart, our life would run much more smoothly.

Maybe we can. Knowing about it is going to help at least a little, I hope. And I'm glad that we're at least equally sensitive - we both know exactly whats going on, even when almost nothing is visible for anyone else. Unfortunately, that it doesn't show doesn't make it any less hurtful.

Rules and regulations

I answered on a thread on Fetlife about what the dominant controls, and realised afterwards that I actually forgot to mention a few things. One of my rules is that I'm not allowed to write more than one post a day at Fetlife - ironically, that was one of the ones I forgot to mention. And everything to do about sex.

I think that's funny, and even funnier that another person also wrote later on something along the lines of "oh no, I forgot to even mention sex!". It's so taken for granted that she controls everything regarding sex, that I don't even bring it up in a text regarding what things in my life she controls... That makes only really weird sense.

I found it hard to really define what my rules are, and whats more like preferences I know she has and therefore acquiesces to. We've never written anything down, and she doesn't remind me of rules or expectations as long as I follow them. And I trudge happily along, supposing I'm a good girl as long as she doesn't look at me sternly, slaps my face or pinch my ear.

My rules, however, is: No sweets except Saturdays or by permission. No more than one post at Fetlife a day (fairly recent, that one). No going to bed without permission (defined as taking clothes of and pulling cover away, at night time. I may spend time in bed during the day, I'm just supposed to wait for her when we do it together).

No leaving the bed when she's in it without permission. I sleep collared with a red dog collar and chained to the bed, but it's not locked, and if she has had to leave the bed during the night, I'm allowed to unchain myself to go to the bathroom, or get up in the morning. That feels very very wrong, but it's the only practical solution we've found with a little one waking at all hours at night and demanding company. If she's in the bed, I have to wake her and ask for permission, and wait for her to unchain me.

Always make a curtsy when I serve her coffee or whisky. If it's really inappropriate to do so, if my mother is standing right next to me or something, I may make eye contact and wait for a nod instead. But generally, always curtsy. I often do it with other things too, but coffee and whisky are the only required things.

Always text her when I'm leaving or arriving at things. We spend our days separately, and my schedule varies a lot. I'm supposed to let her know where I am at all times, and rapport regularly. If I don't, she'll ask me whats wrong. Having my cell phone on and ready is not a rule as such, but I know she gets annoyed if I don't, so I do. (At least I think it's not a rule. I might get slapped over this one...)

And then the sex, of course. No orgasms without permission, no touching without permission, no anything without permission. No touching her without permission. She controls everything, when, where, what, how much. I don't think we could possibly have sex any other way by now. It would feel weird. (But I wouldn't mind being allowed to come whenever I wanted to when she's not around. That would be nice. But then again, the control is nice too.)

And, the big one of course, always obey. That one too goes almost without saying by now. I take pride in always obeying. I always do. (Except one time, for oh I don't know, maybe a minute? It was horrible - I'll probably write about it some time.)

I'm not allowed to say "no" either. I discovered this a few years ago when I had read somewhere of submissives who weren't allowed to use the word "no" and I scoffed at that and declared it unhealthy, and she told me that I wasn't allowed that either. Or rather that "she wouldn't like it if I did" (that translates to "not allowed" in our dynamic). Not that I couldn't disagree or want not to do things - but I can't tell her "no". I can tell her "I would very much like that not to happen" or "I really don't think that's a good idea", but apparently, that's not the same thing. So I don't tell her no.

That's about it, I think. But I've probably forgotten something. I sometimes forget just how much I do because she tells me to, and how ingrained that has become.

(I had: No swearing.)

(No drinking alcohol without permission.)

(No spending any large sums of money (coffee machine in school and the occasional lunch is ok).)

(No covering up, in any way, ever.)

(No talking after she's said "good night" to me in bed in the evening, until I've fallen asleep. It's ok to talk if I wake up in the middle of the night, though.)

(Always using a helmet when riding a bike.)

(No checking of email och Facebook in the evening, after little S has gone to sleep.)