Wednesday, September 30, 2015

One More Thing

I melted into a lovely puddle of goo...


Things didn't go my way, but they didn't exactly go the other way either. I was in a bad mood and little tired. I used all my energy on the kids and trying to keep my focus on things other than my brokenness. I did not feel like sex or anything related. I made that clear.

He wanted me. He made that clear.

So... We compromised.

He bent me over the bed, shoved my face into the mattress, and fucked me. (i.e., what he wanted)

Then we watched a little TV before we went to sleep. (i.e., what I wanted)

And here some of us were thinking that compromise didn't happen in D/s. ;)

Monday, September 28, 2015

Running Music Delima

I started running after we had kids. I even remember the moment I decided that I wanted to run. I had been stuck in the house for a million years and I was sitting at the dinner table looking out the window longing to be outside, then I saw someone running. And that was that.

It took one run to figure out I needed music.

I started out listening to what I always do, however, it didn't take long to figure out that even though I couldn't breathe I still wanted to sing along. Like, out loud. Not only is my singing not made for public consumption, but when you're running, breathing is kinda important...I don't need to explain why it's not a good idea to sing when you're new to running, right?

So, I switched genres and was soon running to guys singing about women bending over and touching their toes on the dance floor, getting more ass than a toilet seat, and drinkin' Hennessy. It totally worked for me. They had a good running beat, I didn't know the words, and I was entertained.

I've started singing along...

Not only that, but...

It kinda makes me want to dance.

We're getting into some serious territory here. 

Let me be clear. This is what I feel like doing...


Which would totally work, if my dancing wasn't worse than my singing! 

Seriously, picture this young lady as a 33 year old woman, and you have me...


Well, okay my dancing isn't too bad after I've had a few drinks, but I'd hate to think about what would happen if I tried to dance while running after drinking. *shutters*

But, sometimes you just gotta do a little dance, you know?! So the other day I couldn't help myself and gave it a go (not at the gym!!). 

I almost fell.

Needless to say, I need to find some new music. 

I'm thinking Classical.

Thursday, September 24, 2015


It's not very often that I find myself in need of sex without him playing with me first (this is not to be confused with my need of dominance, 'cause that I have like all the time). In fact, I'm pretty sure my libido went wayside somewhere in my teens. So when I wake up horny, trying to rub my parts on him and stuff, it throws me.
Don't get me wrong, I love it. I know he loves it. I feel pliable, floaty, and all things lovely.
However, when I get like this, there's a fall back. Soon I will start to freak out about it. Not about being horney per se, not even about what we did to get me to that horney state, truly I'm great with all of that. 
It's the feeling. It's a feeling I used to avoid because I felt like it was wrong. Not that it was wrong, it just felt that way because of what went through my head when I sedated it. That feeling is the same now as it was then, and it feels wrong. It scares me. It feels like I should try to stop it. Yet, at the same time, I want it and I know the feeling is okay to feel, which is major progress if you ask me.
I don't want the crash! I get so very unpliable and it's awful.  
I don't know what to do to stop it from happening either. I'm great at the moment, a little cross-eyed even (lol), which is why I wanted to write about it now. Maybe just saying that the feeling is there -that the need to push it away is knocking on the door-, will be enough to stop the crash?? 
I think this time I will just try to stay horny. I will keep the thoughts coming, even when instinct tells me to stop them. 
Yes, that's what I will do. 
Nasty, dirty thoughts coming right up. Thoughts of being used and exploited will not be pushed away. 
Wish me luck. 

Sunday, September 20, 2015

First Came Wife then Came Slave

I've been thinking about what it means to ask someone down the power exchange road. Not just anyone, but someone whom you've been loving and living with for years, someone you started another kind of life with. Someone that didn't sign up for this.
book series could be written about what comes after the, "Okay, let's do this." I wish someone would hurry up and write them so I could know what the hell we are doing here, or at least a heads up of what's to come.
I can only speak from the bottom side and being the one who asked my love for this. Also keeping in mind this is only a crumb of our whole, not yours...
In order to do my thing, he has to guide. Simple enough...or so one started out thinking.
I was too caught up in myself to think that he probably wouldn't know what he wants or which road to take, right off the bat (or even weeks, months, or maybe even years later). Nor did I take into account that he might even be uncomfortable with the things he wants.
My husband is a provider and protector, and he takes that job very seriously (I've only seen a small part of the weight he carries and that little part is too heavy for me). He saw the importance of it all, the weight of it, way before I did. And he isn't one to take his loved one down a road without having throughly thought it out. And shouldn't he be aloud to become (at least a little) comfortable with himself before bringing me into it? 
For me, that has meant waiting for him, during the frenzy of things and beyond. It meant taking only what he gave because he was nice, and brave, enough to do it for me. It also meant waiting another day to find out what he wanted. I wish I could say I did that gracefully, alas, saying that I did it less than gracefully is painting me in a much better light than I deserve.
Two years later, I'm still waiting to have a clear picture of the road he wants, however I'm thrilled to say that I have a fuzzy picture. 
You see, he waited over ten years for me to be sexual, any kind of sexual. He suffered many nights of unfilled needs, for me. He shut off parts of himself and I'm asking him to turn those parts back on, even though I was the one that taught him to ignore them. In other words, he deserves a lot of time to paint his picture.
I will take the long way around so he has the space he needs, if it is space he wants. If that means I have to wait ten years while he figures it out and finds his voice, so be it. If that means I need to be a mind reader in the mean time, bring it on. I will do my best to offer, so he doesn't have to ask. I will do, so he doesn't have to tell. 
...all within reason, of course.
I will revel in the parts he takes and gives. Those parts are becoming increasingly more frequent after all, which makes it much easier to accept the unknown.
And I will wait, as patiently as I can, for the rest.
I'm sure to struggle, bitch, and whine (let's face it, I'd probably do that with clear direction), but I will do my best, as I know he is doing his best.

Friday, September 11, 2015

That Damn Feather

I feel incredibly vulnerable at the moment. Like overwhelmingly vulnerable. And I wonder if I will ever get used to this shit.

I want to quit doing everything that puts me in contact with people. Of course, I can't do that, but I want to.

I wonder if I'm over-reacting. I think I am, but fuck if I know.

It goes something like this...

I'm doing so good, I feel great, I can take on the world. I do something, he tells me that he wants it done another way, it's frustrating, but I look at it as constructive criticism and move on. I'm also (mostly) comfortable with my thoughts and feelings. I feel capable and confident.

Then something happens. The wind blows a feather that knocks me in the head and I fall over, I guess.

I take a tour though The Land of Question, Insecurity, and Doubt, and end up in I'm Totally Fucked Up Town.

What happens then? Well, when it's pointed out that I've done something wrong, it's no longer constructive criticism, it's further proof that I suck. I try to stop caring because caring hurts...because I can't seem to fucking get it right. You know, stuff like that.

Anyway, Daddy gave me a ticket out and I'm on my way out of I'm Totally Fucked Up Town.

But, I'm leaving there feeling extremely vulnerable and I don't like it, at all.

I wonder if it's a matter of just learning to live with it or maybe it's possible to bottle it up and keep it just for him...

Friday, September 4, 2015

I'm Not...I Can't Be...

"You're such a whore."

"I'm only a whore because you like it."

"No, you're a whore because you're a whore." 

" don't know."

So what if I soaked his hand and the bed?! He made me do it!
And so what if he wiped it all over my face and I kinda liked it? I mean, I immediately wanted wash it off...

Nor does it make a difference that (another night) I had a plug and a vibrating dildo up me, and I was all the while rubbing his cock and sucking that big dildo.

That doesn't make me a whore!

It doesn't.

It just...doesn't.