Being open and with friends

We had friends over this weekend, two whole families actually. Two couples with their kids came and stayed the night and it was really nice. Even more special since we're all doing BDSM. Not together, that is, there were no play and no overt dominance going on at all.

But there's something about hanging out with people I can be open with that matters a lot to me. It's not that I say or do anything in particular. It's just that I'm more comfortable, more myself. More in love with Mistress, too. Knowing that I don't have to hide makes a big difference, even if the hiding usually isn't all that taxing.

I guess it's like getting out of uncomfortable clothes. It's one thing to stand it when you have to wear them all the time, but when you can take them off for a while it feels really really good.

A nightly walk long ago

I remember a night during the first spring after we had fallen in love. It must have been the spring of 2004 and I lived in an apartment in central Stockholm, together with my ex, my then-Master. Mistress semi-lived with us then too, she had her own place in another town and worked at yet another place, but we spent a lot of time together.

This particular night we were up and out very late, I don’t remember why. I vaguely recall that there was a reason, we had been to some event or other. And we walked home through the city, Mistress and me. It was late spring or early summer and one of those nights that doesn’t get dark. There was a little bit of cold in the air, the scent of flowers were everywhere, and it was light, a bright twilight, even though the sun was down and it was late at night. There were some people out, but not many.

And Mistress had me in a collar and leash, perhaps for the very first time or at least one of the first times. We walked through the dreaming night city, in the twilight and the scent of flowers, I followed her a few steps behind her and she held my leash in her hand. We might have led the leash inside my sweater and out through the arm, it was very discreet and no one seemed to notice at all. It was magical and exciting and made me feel very safe, and very loved.

I remember also my ex commenting afterwards when I talked about it that he was a bit jealous because if he had had me in a leash in public people would stare angrily and assume I was being abused. Maybe he was right, I don’t know and we never tried it. I know no one stared or commented on me and Mistress and I know that I looked forward to doing it again sometime. But I’m not sure we ever did.

Seesaw

And then we got home and within three hours I was in the fetal position in our bed, crying my eyes out and accusing Mistress of breaking up with me. I hate that we do this. It's like some weird seesaw, if we are starting to get closer and more intimate, we somehow always end up with epic fights that rip us apart. I hate that.

This is so freaking normal for us, we've been doing this song and dance since we first fell in love. We have learnt, however, to make up faster than before. It took only a few hours before we had settled down again and were cuddling on the sofa.

I slept badly though, and feel a little off today. Even though we make it better, it still hurts. Words were said that can't be unsaid, and I feel a little tender and wary. I want to be loving and trusting and open and submitting. But that also makes me vulnerable and sensitive, which means both that I notice things and care more about things, and that things that hurt me hurts much more.

I'm submissive, but I'm rather good at defending myself

I'm not really comfortable at work right now, which bugs me since it has nothing to do with my actual job or anything I'm hired to do. As far as I can tell, I'm performing perfectly adequately, possibly a bit over expectations, as far as my actual job goes.

Unfortunately, that's not all that it takes to be a good enough employee, and this... this place doesn't really mesh with me. At least not in all aspects.

Last week I had an unfortunate run-in with an arrogant, 70-year old male doctor, who didn't think I provided him with enough service and maintenance when we had a joint assignment with a patient. And I didn't, since I figured he was a colleague and a fellow person whom I supposed I would be cooperating with - not cater to and serve. He didn't appreciate that, and I didn't appreciate him telling me so much.

So. Yeah.

It's the third time someone over the age of sixty kindly but sternly has attempted to tell me how I'm supposed to act and how things are actually done here. I'm getting a bit sick and tired of it.

In the moment, I seem to always find my feet. So far I have an exemplary record of answering calmly and with poise something along the lines of "that's not part of my job description" or "I'm sorry that [this thing I do] makes you uncomfortable, but I'm going to keep doing it for [this and that work-related reason]."

But. That's in the moment. I know I come off as sure of myself, as confident and tough and able to take care of myself. But in the long run, I'm none of those things. I don't want to pick fights with people. I don't want to be critisized or corrected or told I'm doing things wrong, no matter if I agree or not. I don't want to have to defend myself.

Because at the core of me, I'm submissive. I don't want to stand up for myself against arrogant, spoiled old doctors. I want to please and be liked and accomodate. And when I don't, and get called on it, it hurts and rattles me, and now I'm all afraid and unsure of myself and worried and have this angsty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

So why do I do it? Why do I enter a strictly hierarchical system like the public health care system, with ancient traditions of strict ranks and expected obedience, and then refuse to conform? Isn't that kind of stupid, especially if I don't actually like being a rebel, and the consequences of acting like a rebel?

I do it because I really really want to be a psychologist, and because I'm good at it. It's a job I can actually do, and do well, as far as the job goes. The things I've been defending myself against are the demands from the work place that interfers with my ability to do my actual tasks, because the demands interferes with my disability.

I can have ADHD and be an excellent psychologist and therapist. Those roles plays to all my strengths, and barely touches on my weaknesses. That's what I want to do, and something I can do, despite being a scatterbrain with low attention span and a distinct lack in stamina. Under the circumstances offered by this position, I can actually succeed, and perform well above par for the course at this very specialised task.

But. I can only do it if I'm allowed to do precisely that, and not a thousand other things that female employees who's not a doctor routinely are expected to do. I'm not a nurse, or a medical secretary or an orderly, and I'm not any of those things for very good reason - one of them is that I suck at that kind of work. It's not that I think I'm to good to be doing it, it's that I know I'm to bad at it. Very much the same issue I have with being a stay-at-home-mom, incidentally. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that my disability covers exactly the skills that kind of serviceoriented, multitasking job requires.

I can barely administer my own patients, I'm not going to take over those tasks for some doctor too. I can sit in for hours and hours on meaningless meetings where my input isn't asked for - but it takes ridicolous amounts of energy from me, and to preserve some for, you know, my actual job, I've taken up knitting. Straight up scarves, no patterns, and wooden knits that doesn't make any sounds. And still someone felt she had to come and tell me "we don't do that here". Ah well, yes we do. I do - because without it I'm not going to be able to do my job, and I'm not willing to compromise with that. And so on, ad infinutim. It feels like I'm constantly surprising people or disturbing people, just by trying to exist in the workplace and create a space where I can do my job.

So basically - I have a job with tasks I love doing and that I'm good at. I want to please and accomodate and be a good employee, in accordance with my submissive, labradoresque soul. But, unfortunately, other sources at work gets in the way, and my tactics for trying to do my job crashes against unwritten rules and expectations in the workplace. And since I'm very very anxious to do my job, I'm unwilling to compromise with the groups informal rules and the informal leaders display of status.

And of course, I have a life long experience of never fitting in, of never being good enough, of never getting the social codes anyway, and of always feeling slightly like an alien. If I was good at conforming and listening to what other people expect of me, I wouldn't have my family right now, because me and Mistress wouldn't have been together. So, on the whole, it works in my favour, I would say.

I'll just hang in there, be myself, keep on not letting people bully my or push me around, defending my position as psychologist and my right to do the job I'm actually paid to do, and to not be burdened down with a thousand other tasks that's not part of the job description (because I'm to handicapped to deal with that - I don't have the resources), and if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, let the bosses fire me, if that's what they want to do. I'm not backing down, and I'm not quitting. I'm goint to keep going straight ahead in my valued direction, in being as good as I can be at my job, and not take responsibility for the myriad of things that aren't working in the organisation and that I don't have any power over.

But I long for the move. And for vacation. In to weeks time I have three weeks off, and when I return to work, I'll be living with Mistress again. I need her. I need her to tell me what's really important, who it is I'm really supposed to be pleasing, and who I belong to. And it's not the public health service organisation, nor it's elderly employees.

Questions 3! Sex life.

How often you have a scene and what do you usually do? You mentioned in a past post you life anal. Do you do it much? What is your sex life like? Do you go down on each other, use strapons? 

For us, sex function as a glue that keeps our relationship working. We need to connect that way, to reinforce our love and our dynamic. It's very much about her owning me, about me belonging to her, and about us being together. Unfortunately life has a nasty tendency to get in the way of our sex life. I tend to blame it all on us being parents, but the fact is that before the kid came along we had a lot of other stuff getting in the way. So not as often as we'd like tends to be the constant answer. But I know that if it's been a week and we haven't had sex and/or a S/M-scene, I start to feel crappy and get obnoxious. So somewhere between a couple of times a week and every forthnight, depending on health and stress levels mostly.

I'm all for fucking the stress away but Mistress needs to decompress and feel comfortable with herself and her home and her world before her libido gets going, and she's the one who gets to say when.


We don't have vanilla sex, I don't think we could even if we for some reason would want to. It doesn't necessarily involve toys or pain or orders, but she's always in charge. I'm receptive and present and willing and communicating, but she's the one deciding what we're going to do. I don't touch her without permission (it doesn't have to be verbal though) or change position or things like that. It's very much her fucking me, not the other way around.

She uses a strap on or her hands, and I'm often encouraged to use my hands too. We're not into oral sex, either of us, so we don't do that. When it's more scene-like, with more sadism and toys and perhaps planned a little in advanced it's usually very calm and slow and serene. She has trained me to lie perfectly still, and she's very methodic and focused. She never tells me in advance what she's going to do, and I'm pretty sure she makes it up as she goes along, but it feels almost ritualistic, very ordered, very centered.

I like anal, very much, but Mistress seem to be rather indifferent to it. If she just want to fuck me my pussy is more convenient, and that's usually what she uses. I always want more anal sex (like I always want more orgasms, and fucking, and beating, and hugging and attention and just generally  more of everything because I'm a glutton) but it's not something I obsesse about. She fucks me that way sometimes and when she do I love it. That's about it.

Questions 2!

Were you submissive before?

I've been a submissive masochist since I was five, that's as early as I can remember. I know it's crazy young, but that was when I started fantasizing about getting spanked and punished. I had no idea why, or what it was I was feeling, or why it was so damn embarassaing, but I knew enough to never ever mention it to anyone.

It was incredibly lonely, in fact. I grew up knowing I was a freak. That I wanted crazy things and that I could never tell anyone. My fantasies and urges evolved as I became an adult, of course, but the dominating theme was always me being controlled, dominated, taken over by someone stronger than me.

It wasn't until around 18 or something when I got internet connection and realised that I wasn't alone and that there was a name for it, that I started to make peace with my own strange urges. At that time I was in a committed vanilla relationship and when that relationship had run it's course, so to speak, and I was single again I promised myself to never again lie or hide anything for a potential partner. And I haven't.

Vulnerable and submissive

I've been thinking about vulnerability lately. About me and the fact that I'm extremely vulnerable, and how I've worked my whole adult life towards letting go of the shame over that. And about how I need Mistress to function and feel safe.

I'm raised in a culture that promotes individualism and self-reliance. Being dependent is a bad thing, even in families or children towards adults. There's no room for weakness or being less than a productive, self-motivated, self-reliant adult. Everybody is not only equal in worth, but equal in responsibility and agency.

In a lot of ways, that's great. It's result of a society with a long democratic tradition, without war or slavery, where people of all classes can have an education, a vote, and a voice. A society which strives toward equality, both between the sexes and regarding class and heritage. Everybody is a free agent, everybody should be able to act in society on equal terms, and everybody is expected to do that.

Only, I don't want to.

And that's a problem for me. There's no safe guards for a person who tends to bend over backwards to please, who wants to be led, who wants to follow orders and let go of responsibility. There's no role in the society I live in where that's okay.

Except, of course, this one; property of my partner. Not that it's accepted in society at large, but at least I've got it. We can make our own world, here in our family, where me and Mistress knows I'm hers and nothing else. No one around us will confirm that, even know it exists, but we will, and that's enough.

Or, not no one - there are people out there who knows and accepts and confirm. We don't see them as much as we'd like, but they exist and that makes a big difference.

Still. Vulnerability. I've protected myself for as long as I can remember. Being inclined to obey every person with a certain aura, a certain way of speaking and acting, is dangerous. Both insofar that if that person isn't a very good one, you might get hurt. But also simply because it's embarassing. It's out of the norm. It's interpreted as weakness by others, and even ridiculed. So I don't do it.

I've avoided that kind of person the best I've could, or rather been circling around them, going away and coming back, going away and coming back. I've developed a whole host of deflecting strategies, quipping jokes and always having a snappy reply. Never give in, never lose face, never let anyone see your weakness.

Yeah. It's a bother.

And then Mistress came along, and I don't have to do it anymore. I can submit and lose prestige and  be weak and malleable and submissive to my hearts content, 'cause no one can hurt me. No one is going to take advantage of me or lead me to something I don't want, because I'm hers. She'll protect me. I'll never betray her or disappoint her or leave her or break her trust, which mean no one will be able to make me do anything that would lead to that - and so I'm safe.

But no, I'm not okay without her. I'm not a fully functioning adult on my own. I'm only that because I'm hers. Not so much for what she does, but for what it means to me. With her, as hers, I'm safe. Without it, I'm not.

And I'm okay with that. 

A cold, a sandwich and being good enough

I never feel less like a slave then when I'm sick. I get all grumpy and touchy and angsty. Being sick triggers bad memories and brings out a lot of tjhe dysfunctionals sides of me. I've been down with a bad cold this whole week, and Mistress' has been a saint about it. I still can't shake the grumpiness though.

And I feel like a failure because I don't do anything useful at home. And she doesn't find me sexy (for some reason snot and a fever is not a turn on it seems) nor does she want to hurt me or play with me. She just manouveurs around me, where I'm slumped in a corner of the couch surrounded by used tissue papers.

Or well, I have been doing some things this week too, ironically a lot more than I ever did the whole of last year. I've vacuumed some of the floors, I've left and picked up the kid at pre-school, and I've managed to get dinner on the table for her and the kid (okay, once that was arranged by me calling ahead to the local pizza-place and she picking the pizzas up on her way home from the bus stop, but still - I orchestrated the process).

And I've made ice-cream two days in a row, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't count since I only made it for myself because well, I don't really think anyone should eat something I make right now unless they intentionally want the cold virus from hell, and I also ate it all  both days. But then again, it meant I ate something, points for that.

This morning Mistress had made her usual heroic morning routine and served me tea and sandwich in the living room. This isn't even a special "oh my poor baby is sick" kind of thing, it's our standard morning routine (I'll blog about our mornings one of these days...). Anyway. The sandwich today was for some reason white bread with cold meatballs and mayo.

As the first thing in the morning. When I have a sore throat and no sense of smell nor appetite. And don't even like meatballs in the first place, if they're not homemade, and never cold and never ever on a sandwich.

We haven't had time to discuss it, and I'm honestly afraid to ask, but I guess she had some kind of idea behind it. If she was inclined that way I would have guessed it to be some sort of sadistic, hard-ass test of my obedience. But she doesn't have a habit of doing those kinds of things, and my being grumpy sick and sniffling doesn't really bring forth the creative sadist in her. I think she just had meatballs left over, wanted them eaten, and had one herself and made one for me.

Anyway, I had no idea what to do. I mean, there's no really recommended way to say to your Owner "Hey, I don't like this sandwich, make me another one!". The obvious would of course be to discreetly go and make another one myself. But there's a reason I get served breakfast on the couch, and that reason is four years old and grumpy and clingy in the morning.

Everything goes much easier if I serve as kid-anchor and make sure she gets something inside her, and in the meantime Mistress gets to eat breakfast in peace in the kitchen and usually works at the same time. The whole point of feeding us in the living room is so that she can have some uninterrupted peace and quite with her breakfast and her computer. Me going out there making noise and either having the kid in tow or having her yelling loudly to me from across the apartment would kind of negate that. 

I could have just eaten it of course. But no, really, I couldn't. I'm sure Mistress could have made me eat it, no doubts about that, but of my own volition, just because it was laying there beside my cup of tea? No. No way.

In the end Mistress popped her head in to check on us presumably when she had finished her breakfast, looked at me, looked at the sandwich, looked at me again in a way that made my inside kind of cringe, and said "I'll just go make you another one, should I?" And she did, and I happily ate the cheese sandwich she brought and felt more than usually sheepish.

And no, I don't think I'm much of a slave when I'm sick, nor much of a housewife or for that matter not all that great as a wife either, on any scale. But the good thing is that that doesn't matter. Because no matter what, I'm still her property, and that I'm amazingly awesome as. Even when my nose is running and I'm a picky eater. 

Three simple rules...

1) Shut up.
2) Listen.
3) Do as she says.

My god, how hard can it be???

Just do it.

Insufferable-ness

When we stopped cuddling on the mattress on the floor in front of a Buffy Season 4-episode this evening, and Mistress was about to get up, she first gave me a set of hard slaps on my butt, that I had conveniently positioned beside her.

"Mmm..." I said, "that diminishes tomorrows insufferable-ness from my side with at least... oh, 0.6 percent.."
She briskly administered a few more, and I admitted that it summed up to at least a whole percent or something. Then she had to walk the dog, and left me to my own devices.

This whole topping from the bottom thing, manipulating the Owner in to punishment and sexy torture by being bratty and challenging? It really doesn't work here. Mistress is no good at bottoming from the top! She just wont play along... *pouts*

Ah well. I'm guessing I'm in for a real sever beating any day now, whether I want it or not and whether I'm insufferably bratty or not, anyway. Just as soon as Mistress has slept a few proper nights without being woken by the little one umptheenth times in a row. And since we're at Mistress' parents place over the weekend, that will most probably happen sooner rather than later.

I love that she can make me heel and behave. And I love that she doesn't have to prove to me that she can.

 

Problem solved

But when there weren't anything good on at nine o'clock, I jokingly said "well, then you'll just have to tie me up and beat me" and she said "Yeah, I guess you're right." That kind of threw me. So she walked the dog and told me to use the bathroom and shut down the laptop in the meantime, and when she got back, she tied me down at the bed, and beat my ass with the tawse.

Really really hard.

Afterwards she rearranged the ropes to have me on my back, and while she did it I commented flippantly about a rope that wasn't secured around my ancle. Something in my tone of voice or choice of words made her draw the conclusion that I wasn't properly submissive yet, "only because I haven't beaten you enough" she said and something in her voice and demeanour made me really really scared.

I apologised over and over, but that didn't help. In the end she made me lay still while she whacked me really hard, between my legs and on each of my breasts, and then on the left side of my face. She demanded that I was perfectly still and looking at her for each of the strokes, and when it was over, I was not only sincerely regretful but also very very meek and submissive.

The she left me there for a while, with an order to first count to a thousand, and then start touching myself. I was allowed to come if I said "I'm you're slut!" loudly while doing it, but I never got that far before she came back and started fucking me with her hand instead.

So yeah. I'm not complaining any more. At least not about not being beaten enough.

The concept of service

I started a thread in a FetLife-group about service, and feel like I should write something in it, but every time I try it turns out way to long in my head. And if it's to long in my head, it will most probably be very much to long as a post in a discussion. It will have to be a blog post instead. Maybe I can distil some of it into something coherent later.

The thing is, I don't like service. I don't like the word, but it's not on a phonetic level, much like with responsibility I'm perfectly aware of what it means, and just plain don't like it. Actually, responsibility and service touch upon much of the same issues for me.

One of the posts in the discussion mentioned service as being "available for action" and that struck a chord. I can't do that. I can't be "available" for an unclear period of time. I can't wait on anyone, in either sense of the word. I can barely keep my focus in a conversation, and if my fellow conversationalist take to long a breathing pause between sentences, I'm likely to wander off and do something else in the meantime. I have a very short working memory and attention span, and honestly, waiting exhausts me.

So I can't sit by Mistress' feet and wait for a hand gesture or the right time to do something. I can't keep track of the water level in her drinking glass - I mean, I can barely keep track of my own head, and that's screwed on tight. I can't take responsibility for her comfort level, period. She'll have to do that herself. Not because I don't want to, but because I'm extremely bad at it, and get sick from stress and exhaustion when I try. And also, before I get sick, I get really really irritable and snarky.

What I can do is sit by her feet and rest. Not on stand by, not waiting, just sitting. I can be turned off and not do anything. That works perfectly fine. But I can't do that and also remember a steak in the oven, hanging the laundry when the cycle is done, or checking whether Mistress would like a refill on her coffee. If I'm off I'm off, and want get started again without some kind of cue.

That cue might very well be an order, there's no problems there, but it has to be a distinct order, something that is loud enough to get my attention, and a discreet hand signal or an empty coffee mug isn't enough. The cue might be an egg timer telling me to check the steak or the silence when the washing machine stops (actually, we have a community laundromat, and no machine of our own, but if we did have one) or something as internal as me needing to pee or getting a leg cramp. But there has to be something, something tangible and clear. Then I get going again, and do all those things I need to do, for a while, until I rest again. There's no middle ground. There's no waiting. There's no "being available".

Of course, this has to do with ADHD. I don't think this is true for everybody with the diagnosis, it can manifest in a thousand ways, but I do think that for me the deficit in working memory and attention span, as well as the tendency to only have two energy levels, full speed or full stop, makes "service" a difficult concept. It seems to require a kind of constant, low grade attention directed at the Owner and that persons needs and possible future needs, and I can't give anything that kind of attention. Not that I don't want to, but it takes a ridiculous amount of effort when I try, and I still do it badly.

I do better at obedience. Some people in the discussion implied that all kinds of obedience was a form of service, but for me it's easier to see it as two different things. I can be obedient. I might have trouble remembering rules, and sometimes my lack of inhibition and impulse control (ADHD again) gets the better of me, but I never intend to disobey. And a clear order face to face I always obey.

It's the forethought I can't do. Foreseeing needs and trying to fulfil them.Or doing something extra good, or whatever. I always do everything as good as I can - trying to increase that in the name of service makes me cry from performance anxiety.

I need to learn not to over-achieve, not to take responsibility for others needs, not to think my worth lies solely in performance. The concept of "service" seems to do nothing for me in that regard, it's more a hindrance than a help. Obedience and control, however, makes me peaceful and content and happy, and thus a much better slut and property and person to be around.

The funny thing though is that I love fetching stuff for Mistress. I love doing things that makes her happy, or more comfortable, or makes something she wants to achieve easier. I love helping her and I love it when she's happy with me. But it's better for both of us if I can do that when the opportunities presents themselves to me, or when she orders me to it, and not having me walking around with constant anxiety over whether or not I provide a high enough level of service. Because that's just draining.

I think it might matter that I'm naturally inclined to always do my best even if it kills me, to always take responsibility for everything including things I have no way of controlling, and to immediately be acutely aware of anyone else's discomfort and feel driven to make everything better. That fire really doesn't need any more fuel on it, such as me thinking I need to deliver "service". That fire needs some water and a good stomping, nothing else.

So I think I'll keep on feeling controlled and knowing I obey, and trust that Mistress will guide me where she wants me to go, without me going out of my way in making things more complicated then they already are. She wont get a service-slut this year either. Maybe some other year, if I can pick one up for her on any local fetish party. But it wont me.

Surrendering

We role-played yesterday. It's kind of funny, that it's the same word, but I'm really not meaning in the bedroom-sexy variety. We actually do very little role-play in the bedroom. Instead it was table-top role-playing, a rather new game called "Heroic Role-Playing", depicting the X-men 'verse.

All the characters are teenage mutants (though not ninja turtles) and have recently discovered their abilities and are now training at the "Xaviers' Institute of Higher Learning". In short, we play superhero wannabees, sitting around our friends living room table, eating big amounts of candy and laughing a lot. A role-playing fan fiction, one might say.

My character is a stereotypical cheerleader from North Cal, blonde with big boobs who likes skinny dipping and sleeping in peoples laps. She also turns in to a feral cat-like creature whenever she gets upset or angry.

This time the game actually did touch upon one of my kinks, though. My character, like all the others for that matter, struggles with controlling her power, and hers is mostly troublesome when in the same room as Wolverine. That character is a teacher at the school, so breaking out in claws and snarling every time he entered a room was becoming a problem. Also, she almost ripped the head off a random guy who was groping her at a night club.

The game master decided to resolve the issue by letting Wolvering lock himself in a room together with my character Cas, and attack her. Cas flew at him, and well, one can say we tried out the gaming system and practised the fighting-by-rolling-dices. Of course, my character got her butt royally kicked, not the least because Wolverine has rejuvenating powers and healed every injury immediately while Cas has a very human tendency to bruise and get exhausted. Eventually she was laying panting on the floor, gave up and her claws retracted. Problem solved by fisticuffs.

Now, let's not analyse this scene from a feminist perspective, because from that point of view, it's horrible. The woman who can't control herself, and need a stronger man to control her? Yeah, we've heard it before. But I can't help it. I like this scenario. It might even be called a theme of mine.

I love the idea of being forced to surrender. I love the insecurity in a power struggle, the idea of trying to hold my own and failing, and especially to someone who is "good", someone who doesn't really want to injure, just conquer. Having someone else take control, and keep control, by force of will or physical strength is... a good feeling.

I like submitting too. I like giving myself over. I like the real deal of a mutual relationship were every ones' needs are met and I'm respected as a person. I think I need that in real life. But in Fantasyland? I'm being held captive and wrestled to the ground, or stared down by a will stronger than my own. In Fantasyland, I'm freed from responsibility and choice, and I don't have to defeat my own inner turmoil and ambivalence, because someone stronger than me does it for me.

Of course, the problem is that most people who can do that is not people I really want should do that, because it's not safe. Nor does most people care to do it, because it's a hell of a lot of work. I like the idea of being forced to surrender to authority. The problem is that "authority" usually doesn't give a damn about me, and wouldn't want me afterwards.

One of the reasons I live a happier life now than ten years ago or so, is the security that comes with being owned. I've already been conquered. Our relationship isn't in the unsure, power-struggle phase of conquering and surrender, we're way past that. And while it would be nice to experience that excitement again, it was also a lot of angst and drama and arguing and crying and doubts, out here in real life with real people, and that I don't miss. What we have now, though, gives me a security and safety that means I don't have to defend myself all the time from authority. Also, it's a lot easier for other people to show me who's boss and let me know I'm not in charge, when I'm not fighting tooth and nail, with every available mean, to prove them wrong.

But that scenario, that little peace of interaction, always resonates within me. I seek it out when I can, and I enjoy it, even if it's just a game and a fantasy. It's not sexual as such, it's more... intriguing. It feels good, and fun, and a little tingly. It's not masturbation fodder, but I keep going over it in my mind, and it makes me feel good.

I don't think the tension and the dynamic went by unnoticed by the rest of the gang either. It was quite obvious that there was going to be a showdown, and I got the impression that everybody wanted that played out. And in the middle of the scene, while I and the game-master was story-telling what our respective characters was doing, one of my friends shoves her phone in my face and says. "Remember that it's this guy we're talking about!"

Yeah. Well... maybe a little masturbation fodder. Just a little bit. Hot damn!

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.

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.

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...

Feet

Mistress had some work to do, especially since little S sounds suspiciously snivelly and she may have to be home tomorrow with a sick kid. So she's sitting in the sofa in the living room, and I sit between her, and we each have our laptops, even if mine has more fun things going on then hers.

And while she's working and completely focusing on the paper on her screen, her left foot is firmly, very firmly, planted all over my right one. That one is warm, the other one is a bit chilled. I'm sitting content and calm and keeps my self entertained, waiting for her to finish her job, and revelling in being owned by her.

Wooof!

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

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

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

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

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

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

http://www.petplanet.co.uk/petplanet/breeds/Bulldog.htm

She nipped it in the bud - ha!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seemingly a paradox

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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