Progress

Perhaps some of you may recall the troubles with our daughter. She’s long been a procrastinator dating back to middle school, always putting off assignments and being bored by most of her classes. She barely graduated high school even though she’s extremely intelligent and has taken advanced placement classes and was formerly in an elementary and middle school program called the International Baccalaureate Programme. She dropped this in the 10th grade after having gone all the way through up till then. It was a huge disappointment to her dad and me, of course. Children who graduate from such a program with the diploma have many great opportunities a regular high school diploma does not afford. She also started skipping school and not turning in assignments.

In truth, I think she got this gene from my brother, who also was bored in school and couldn’t concentrate. Her dad and I weren’t like that at all. We were all A and B students, excelled academically and knew we would attend university and have a career. She attended a few college classes and said it wasn’t for her. She could not keep even a part-time job. We had to finally employ tough love, telling her she had to choose  something to do – either work or school or she would lose the car we got for her.  She began a cosmetology school in the town we were living in. It was a 9 month course. At first she really seemed to thrive, but as always, the complaints started. She ended up dropping out much to our chagrin. We told her she had to do something else. She ended up deciding cosmetology wasn’t precisely what she desired, she really wanted to do make-up, or esthiology. She (and we) researched and enrolled her in the Aveda program in Dallas.

I’m thrilled to say although she did need extra time to complete the program, she did eventually finish! Yesterday, she took the last of two licensing exams, and she is now a licensed Esthetician! I realize it’s not rocket science. For her though, and for us, this is a giant step to adulthood. I’m very proud of her.

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The Master Speaks

He’s annoyed with me and my lack of submission. What else is new under the sun? I’m annoyed with his lack of Dominance. He tortured me the other day and it wasn’t pleasant; probably not even for him. Then he spoke at length about the ten ways in which I misbehave which he had asked me to write down a few weeks ago. He noted while I sometimes do obey and am mindful of my submissive behavior better since that little exercise, nothing’s really changed. He wants me to call him Sir or Master and I don’t I guess, because my heart is just not in it…

I wonder why? His dominant actions have not changed either. He went on to say he doesn’t know where to begin with me. He says I’ve told him to give me tasks and that I like pain and humiliation, but he doesn’t know what to do with this information.

SIGH……

I’ve purchased many many books for him/us to read about this lifestyle. I have read them. I’ve delved into the subject online and met many wonderful generous folk who have offered to chat with him and give words of encouragement. I/we have bought toys of all sorts and enjoy using them. The sex itself is no issue. When I told him I wanted this type of lifestyle several years ago (that I had in fact craved this most of my life) he was all for it. He gets very excited when we read tales of other real couples’ journeys. He wonders why I am unable to be more submissive. We’ve done couples’ counseling for several years.

I told him I did not want a Master/slave relationship, and in retrospect, perhaps we moved too quickly in our fervor and excitement. He bought me two different collars, one of which I wore 24/7 for a few years. But it felt wrong to me, because in fact I was not “really” his submissive any more than he is my dominant. I asked him to remove it, and he did. He has never been what one might consider a romantic nor creative man, and it could be said that those traits are key to being a decent dominant. After all, a good dominant must craft a scene and provide loving after-care. He has never done so. His “scenes” if you choose to call them that, are ALWAYS centered around sex, and the after care is limited to a quick wipe-off with a towel.

(His latest craze, which he’s been hung up on for a couple of years, is searching for a suitable cage to lock me in. The idea of this really does not bother me aside from the fact neither of us are youngsters anymore, and what if something should befall him while I’m locked in it? How would I then get out?)

Now he wants me to write again about precisely what I want in this D/s relationship. Do I want to be humiliated and if so, how?  Do I want him to spank me, and if so, with what and when?

{Big sigh again…} Am I protesting too much to say, “enough?” Why am I the one doing all the work to make this work? Am I in fact the one doing all the work, or does it just seem so? Is he just really not capable of being dominant?

How do you know when it’s time to say, maybe we should stop trying so hard and go back to just being “us” but with a slightly kinky side?

Ideas and thoughts

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I so enjoy what other bloggers write. They inspire me and often bring to mind half-remembered ideas, memories, and dreams. Someone wrote about a Dominant friend who treats his wife and other submissives in a way which her (the blogger’s) readers find thought provoking. Some readers are disgusted by this man and his actions while others are perhaps intrigued and maybe stimulated?

As for me, I am rarely put off by the actions of others. To each his (or her) own. What everyone does in the privacy of their home is their own business. There is little I find disgusting. In fact… some of you might be disgusted by what I’m about to write.

I’ve often toyed (in my mind) with the idea of Sir having another woman. He honestly is so into sex – so much more than I am, that it would not bother me if he were to find someone nice and clean with whom he could engage in a sexual (only) relationship. As for me, in many aspects, Sir does not provide me with what I myself desire. When I asked him for a D/s relationship, I told him I wanted it based on control, pain, and humiliation. Sir is not into giving pain, at least rarely, and while he does enjoy a sense of control over me, it is solely based on control in a sexual way.

When this blogger writes about the things this man does to the women under his control, it takes my breath away that a dominant actually desires to spend so much time and dedication with and to his submissives. That is what I crave. I know I am lucky and I know Sir loves me as I do Him. He is a wonderful generous man. Why do I want more, then?

An admission

I do not find the female body beautiful, sexy or erotic. Breasts in particular, I have a decided aversion to. Maybe because mine have always, since puberty been large and pendulous, and I am not comfortable in my own skin. I find human breasts to be so ugly. They remind me of cow udders or teats. Hanging down, so droopy and weighty, just serving no purpose after bearing children except the titillation (see what I did there?) of your lover. I do not find them cute or lovely; even the sassy perky ones just don’t turn me on in any way. Maybe if I had ever once in my life been able to go without a brassiere just once – to experience the wonderful freedom of being braless and running with no pain, it would be different and I could feel otherwise. Instead I feel forever imprisoned in a detestable tight underwire garment with straps digging in my skin, leaving marks and lines and even causing me to perspire underneath my breasts.

Then, I had the misfortune of being diagnosed with breast cancer 13 years ago. It was early stage, but back then it meant I went through two surgeries, chemo, and radiation. I should have had the sense at that time to have a mastectomy followed by reconstruction, and a lift or reduction on the other breast. Sir said we would investigate doing reduction later, and we never have. I’m not asking for, nor do I need sympathy. Okay, rant done.

Balls and plugs

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“…take my silver balls from my night table and insert in your pussy and keep there overnight. In the morning you are to go in my box and find the jeweled butt plug and insert it. You will wear both until you pick me up at the airport.”

I can’t keep the pretty shiny heavy silver balls inside me when I am up and about, much as I would like; they simply will not stay up inside me. However upon insertion of my favorite plug, there’s no problem whatsoever. I am busy all day cleaning the kitchen and bathroom, stripping our bed, washing the bedding and towels, emptying the dishwasher; readying our nest for his return. Then I sit down to work on my list of bad habits for Master. As the day wears on I sense a growing neediness down there. My pussy lips are irritated by the tag from the silver balls against my piercing and feel swollen, and my insides are heavy with wanting.

It’s rare for me to feel so wanton and aroused, but it’s been ten days without Master, and I need him. I want his hands on me, his lips and breath at my neck, and his beautiful cock doing what it should. I must come to terms in my head finally that I truly do need this wonderful generous Master who wants and needs me! I love you my dear kind lovely Master xx!

Whose faults

Today Master is coming back from his work shift. He’s been staying in our old (empty) house which has not yet sold. It’s been odd and yes, lonely without his dominating presence here. When he’s here we are so busy still organizing our home and enjoying our new city (and each other, of course.) I still have the same old struggle with submitting. Today before he boarded his plane he told me to write down ten personality flaws or personal faults of mine. Then choose three and write down possible solutions. This was much harder than it sounds.

I am disobedient.

I am sassy/bratty.

I am disrespectful.

I don’t always listen.

I am not submissive in general.

I am not always receptive to sex.

I question his leadership/authority.

I do what I want more than doing what I think he wants.

I am not polite nor loving.

When I see this list I know in my heart these attributes are true, but I’m shocked, mortified, humiliated, and humbled. Am I even submissive at all? I know deep in my soul, from a small child I’ve always felt submissive, but life and my Sir’s career took much of my natural submission away. I feel terrible and so very sad that I’m such a disappointment to my Master, who tells me he loves and adores me.

Now I must work on listening to Sir. Using his honorifics when I speak to him (or text.) Putting Him before me always. Stop questioning and do as He asks. Be kind and loving.

It doesn’t sound hard!

Reflection of a Fantasy

silver

Way back before I even knew what sex really was, let alone D/s, I made up a fantasy world I would “escape” to when I was feeling low, upset, or out of sorts. I guess it was similar to having an imaginary friend, except this was an entire land with characters and a story line. You see, like many young women, from childhood on, I never thought of myself as pretty or desirable. Oh, I wasn’t fat or heinous looking. But when everyone else had beautiful long hair parted down the middle, mine was still short and awkward-looking. I’d had three eye surgeries as a young girl to correct cross-eyes, and my eyes never did look normal until much later in life when a surgeon finally corrected the lax muscles.

I wasn’t athletic nor did I enjoy sports. I was very good in school and enjoyed reading, which I did constantly. I was very much a home-body and didn’t have many friends. I considered most kids silly. And so they didn’t really like me either. I did have (and still do to this day) one bff I met in third grade and we immediately knew we were kindred spirits. I think much of my behavior had to do with dysfunction at home and the fact my father was a career Air Force officer and we moved a great deal when I was young. I believe I became afraid of making friends; that I might lose them. It’s fascinating what repeated trauma does to a young child (she says analytically.)

…It was a silver world, where women were royalty, and I was but a common, callous slave. There was little darkness, the daytime hours being much longer than ours. Therefore night became a very precious thing. I remember in this world, which I knew not the name of, being too low to be given the honor of knowing it, I was whipped regularly for minor infractions. (Remember, this was well before I knew I was submissive, which really strikes me now.)

The women, especially the Queens (and there were many of varying levels of rank, were the most incredibly beautiful things I’d ever seen. Not icy cruel-cold as Tilda Swinton as Jadis in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe film, but very similar, and silver, not white, of course!

I had all types of menial, boring, tedious tasks set to me. Now I can’t even remember what my brain dreamed up. Most of this I imagined in middle and high school when I was bored out of my mind, but now and then, a gleam of silver – such as the chrome on a shiny bus or car, would draw my attention, and I would hear the Queens calling me. No, I’m not nor have I ever been schizophrenic, but it was such an outlet for an imaginative, bored, maybe depressed child.

Sometimes I miss it. Which is why I turned to writing. You’d think I write fantasy or sci-fi, but honestly, the genre has been so totally overdone that I’m no longer interested in it. Now I have my own world with a house and Master to occupy my time. I have three dogs and a grown girl to think/worry about. When I have spare time, I have my writing. All in all, real life has become much more entertaining than that gleaming silver world. That’s not to say I don’t miss it! It’s strange too, sometimes a crumpled bit of foil or a flash in the mirror catches my eye, and I can hear one of the Queens faintly calling my silver world name…