Minimizing Control

 It's odd sometimes...When I write regularly, it feels like an extension of me. It is, after all, an extension of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. However, coming back to it is a bit like putting on a pair of pants that are too tight--it's not an entirely comfortable feeling...

Believe it or not, more trauma happens in our kitchen, than anywhere else.

He had me up against the stove, "Admit it--you need it. You're just scared because you need me more. Always have. And you think that if you can avoid needing sex, it will somehow minimize my control over you."

Aw, crap.

"I admit nothing. 
Ow!
Okay, okay, you're right."

To me, sex has always been about power. The more I like something, the more of a weakness that something becomes. So yes, love could be seen as the ultimate weakness, but in my usual fashion, I digress.

I do need him more than he needs me. In every aspect of life. This was a huge fear of mine for years, and it almost destroyed our relationship because I refused to let my heart go all in. Sometimes it still scares me. It was the drawback to getting married  young, to never being on my own, never having to be alone, for my being forming around another person--I don't just want him in my life, I need him.

Not only do I need him, I need him more than he needs me.

The one thing I am usually good at not needing, is sex. He, however, needs sex.
See where this is going?
I long ago found the one thing He needed that I didn't. And perhaps I felt there was a certain power in that. A power which would vanish should I ever find myself victim to physical desire.

It's there though. Always.
In the insatiable flirt
the way I walk and move my hips
the thoughts that float through my mind when I bite my lips
between my legs when he whispers cruel desires in my ear.

It's there. That final last power to grasp desperately onto. My last iota of control.
Desire.
As his voice slides across my mind like velvet covered steel:
"Admit it--you need it. You're just scared because you need me more. Always have. And you think that if you can avoid needing sex, it will somehow minimize my control over you."
I know that I am losing the very last vestiges of my imagined control.
That I am truly in
mind
body
and soul
Because my slavery to him is what makes me whole.

Image Source Unknown

The Beast In My Dreams

I miss it here. I think that this blog helps me focus on submission, and encourages introspection about this journey of power exchange.
Writing here is good for me. Not writing...Not so good.

When I'm really sick, he backs way off. He doesn't usually back off. Especially for so long.

It is still odd, yet somehow now predictable--this feeling.

As I float, something in him coils tighter and tighter
it is there in the way he touches me
the tense restraint in his hands
the unyielding bent of his body when it touches mine.
There is restrained force in every touch, and frustrated patience on his face, as dangerous calculations are  being made patiently behind his eyes.

He waits. While I, of necessity, float loosely leashed at his feet.
And while he waits, that something in him, that beast that he sates with me, it winds tighter still.
Waiting to be set free.
I feel it in his touch, rippling below the surface, waiting to feed. Hungry.
There's always a temporary fear, a momentary panic about things to come as soon as I realize I am well enough for him to feed.
I waiver, afraid to feel his teeth, afraid that he will feed, afraid to admit that my body is once again well enough to meet his needs. Because I am afraid to face the beast.

Yet still I find myself begging for it, begging to float loosely no longer
knowing that I will lay my heart  on his plate
open the doors to my mind
and feed him my soul
every day for my forever.
Because my being will always surrender
knowing that I live at the mercy of the beast who appears in my dreams.

Last of the Inspirations

 During the fall of last year, (that sounds bad, doesn't it?)  I had a terrible round of writer's block, and several people were kind enough to throw some questions my way to get the words flowing again. I'm a habitual "Saver", so I have a few left. I figured this would be as good of a time as any to use them--not only is being sick no fun at all, it doesn't even provide good writing fodder, and since I am, apparently, going to be sick forever, I might as well ignore it when I can.

I believe that these were from Sarah...

What's your favorite thing/outfit to wear for Alpha?
Ummm...I suppose that now is when I admit to owning lingerie that I have never even worn because I'm so self-conscious. Personally, I'm a fan of the burka, but he prefers nothing at all. Though, I do have a pair of yoga pants that seem to function like magnets for his hands...

What "rule" do you find the easiest to keep? The hardest?
Oh geez, I don't know...I guess that the easiest one to follow would be no masturbating without permission. Of course, it would only make sense that I would have a hard time with the "Play with yourself every morning" rule (the man's impossible to please). And I haven't worked out in a month because I can't breathe...
Oh, you wanted facts, not complaints? Honestly, the things I struggle with vary from day to day, but taking a compliment gracefully is one that I consistently flop on.

What is your favorite thing to do with Alpha? As a family?
Hmmm, I could go the route of saying I love anything we do together, but who enjoys getting wood in a foot of snow, or helping someone set a dislocated shoulder, or dealing with their crazy family having a crazy episode, or...
I guess my favorite thing to do with Alpha is cuddle. I know that probably sounds quite unexciting and vanilla, but he has big shoulders, and there's this spot that fits my head perfectly...
As a family, I'm a big fan of movie nights. With popcorn and treats.

I suppose that if anyone had any other questions to throw my way, I wouldn't object...Being sick is considerably uninspiring, so I find myself at a bit of a loss as far as words go.

He Suspects...

For the most part, I like to spend my life pretending that I'm not asthmatic. And, for the most part, said pretending works quite well...
Whatever fresh form of hellish virus my kids brought home nearly three friggin weeks ago, is walking all over me.

My lungs hate me, and this state of affairs has drawn his attention. He is rudely suspicious that I'm not taking enough medicine, and takes every possible opportunity to abuse query me about it.

He also seems to think that I'm pretending to be in better condition than I actually am.
Geez, what happened to all that important trust stuff everyone keeps going on about? The man continually insists on doing it wrong!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go attempt continuous, (relatively) uninterrupted breathing. While baking a four layer chess cake (got to perfect it before kiddo's birthday).

LOL

Erroneous Statements

I think we often, erroneously, state that, "Life got in the way of M/s". Over time, I have come to appreciate the error of those kinds of statement--M/s is life; therefore, life simply cannot interfere with it.
However, the rest of life can influence and change the currents in a rather undesirable manner.

Being sick
being a hot mess
having a family that's a mess
crazy chess events
squeezing money out of rocks
sick kids
you know, some of those less thrilling aspects of being human...

No, it is not life which interferes with M/s, it is simply life doing the ebb and flow that it does. And M/s must flow with it, because M/s is life.

I can feel the flow changing back to its familiar path. It is in the way he looks at me, the tone of his voice when he speaks to me, the possessive nature of his touch, the aggressive glint in his eyes.
It is in the nature of the beast to always return me safely to my knees. Even if I am occasionally just a touch reticent.

January...

My eldest brought some special lung-based form of the plague home from chess camp, so we've all been busy with that, dealing with my mom, and of course, chess.

I haven't gotten to read here much, or really had anything I want to write about, which is highly unusual for me because even when I can't write, I still have things I want to write.

January really just sucks. It's the one month the whole house comes down with some awful child-borne illness, it's miserably cold, it's always when I feel way older than I really am, we try to squeeze birthday money out of rocks, and I'm so over giving my mom money, then watching her try to sell everything that ever meant anything. She has become frustratingly strange about "Stuff" since he died. My aunt sent a box to "The family", full of old postcards of my grandfather's and stuff like that, yea...I'm insanely frustrated with my mother right now.
I've been avoiding the attentions of my darling husband and Master too. In all fairness, his attentions are somewhat less than enthusiastic, given that he is also deserving of quarantine. What can I say, it's January.
He came back to life enough to point out that I've been slacking on everything in a major way--I was just alive enough to cringe.

Now I'm going to have more coffee, clean my house, and search for my sense of humor. A sense, which it seems, is sadly lacking at the moment.

Hand Extended

He gives me every opportunity to come willingly. He extends his hand and invites me in. 

I am allowed to come walking, head held high, eyes lowered in submission.

He accepts me when I come crawling on my knees

wanting like he wants me to be.
There is never doubt
he never wavers and there is no hesitation in his hand
no conditions on his love
he knows that I will come
much as I have always done
when he shows me the way home.

 

 Sometimes the place he calling me to is warm and comfortable, other times it's a place made of fire and ice, it smells like leather and feels like cold steel across my skin.

In this place of fire and ice
He consumes me.
He extends his hand
offering redemption
pain
love
laughter and tears
a place to spill my fears and lap up my tears. 

As my soul catches on fire and my being drifts away on the smoke
as I float in his flames
consumed
never to be the same
I accept his offer to come crawling
to view my life with him from my knees.

He extends his hand and invites me in
he beckons me to walk into the flames
for him
to him
with him
and he takes me in his hands
keeping me
where I was forever meant to be.

I Gots Nothing

We have a senile dog. Almost took him out myself the other morning. Seriously--he whined and moaned and went in and out just so that someone would get up and hang out. At 3:00 A.M.Well, more aptly, from 3 to 4 something, which is when I gave up and made coffee.
Then I ended up in Wal Mart. Twice. Before going to three different shoe stores only to be informed that there isn't a women's size 8 to be had within the lines of two counties. Seriously.

I think it's rather apparent that someone hasn't been taking her medicine...

Anyways, where was I? Oh, complaining, of course.

Did I mention that I tried to quit chess? I so hate losing. Don't really mind losing to the kiddo anymore because most people do lol. But everyone else...Of course, I'm stupid and decided to live in a power exchange relationship. Do I get to quit chess because I want to? Nope. I got assigned drills. Every damn day. Who does that??

I have fallen out of my exercise routine, and it's surprisingly difficult to get back into. Chess drills are exercise, right?

For a while, I was really going good with the inspiration and meeting his requirements...And now? Pft. I gots nothing. Except that I do wonder what kind of maniacal mind makes a woman who hates losing, do daily drills for a game that she's no good at...

A Brand New Year

I can't say that I'm sorry to see 2013 go--the last week was seriously too much. I was sooo happy to wake up this morning and not have to go play chess with a bunch of smarmy and painfully talented children. That in itself signifies the start of a nice new year to me! Even if I never want to touch another chess board in my life...Apparently though, our eldest has a talent for it that goes far beyond what I originally thought.

Things have been upside down and inside out this last couple of weeks, which is kind of to be expected. I have slipped majorly in many ways though, and I didn't expect the slide to be quite so extreme. If I'm at all bright, I'll get it together before the consequences become more extreme than the fall.

Did I mention that I got my ass handed to me by a few smarmy kids across a chess board this week? Yea...Being property really sucks sometimes--he wouldn't let me quit for life.

Seriously...

It seems only natural to begin the year with complaints. Of course, last year...

Ahh, 2013...

I have high hopes for 2014 though

please, please, please, please...

 Lofty goals, huh?