Wednesday, July 30, 2014

To See One As Being Better Than the Other

I think that I finally managed to perfect the nonsensical title.

Here's where I'm going--the concept of M/s being "better" than D/s, or D/s being "better" than M/s.

Did I miss the memo where this was all one big competition? Seriously, people seem to think you're either too far in, or not far enough. Who appoints these ttwd police?

Personally, I prefer the deep end. All in and one step from drowning. It's who I am and how I'm made. I want to go as far as I possibly can, hand over everything that I am until there's nothing left and the nothing itself completes me. I need to be consumed in the fires of his needs, no way out, only further in. I'm an experience junky, a slut for everything I enjoy, a whore to everything that makes me feel truly alive. It's who I am and how I have always been. Right or wrong, that is the window through which I view ttwd.

We have been together for a long time. Sixteen years. About half of those years were before D/s. I don't need negotiation, I don't need my own terms, I don't need to consent anymore. Because I am, we are, it is the way it is.
Physically, yes, I might capable of walking away. But it was truth when he said that I'd always be his. Even if we parted ways, there would be part of me that would always belong to him, no matter what. There is nothing he would do that could change that. No matter what choices he makes, I will never walk away. I feel that I long ago ceased being able to do so.

That's me. My life. Who we are. And I'm okay with it.

There's not a damn thing wrong with playing in the shallows. In fact, sometimes that is the healthiest place for one to be.

I think that sometimes our own insecurities provoke us to pass judgement on those who's relationships differ from our own--the submissive criticizes the slave because they wonder if their own  submission is enough, the slave criticizes the sub because she wonders if her personal submission is too much.

I have very strong opinions which are sometimes misinterpreted. Ttwd is not a game for us, it's our life. I think that, for many, it is a game. And I truly do believe that's okay, but if you don't want it to be a game, if you want to go deeper, there are certain things and patterns that you have to outgrow, change, and accept. You cannot have it both ways.
That's not me saying that full-time submission is better than part-time. It is simply the truth as I see it to be. I have no interest or even thoughts, really, for D/s that is a game--that is not within the scope of my experience. Nor do I have any desire for it to be so.

I have been trying to walk a middle line with this, because I really do hate seeing anyone express that slave or sub is "Better". I hate to sound trite, but ultimately, it's like comparing apples and oranges--they're both friggin fruit, but they are most definitely not the same thing. They're both good, but one is really only better insofar as the way that you personally feel about eating it. And there's no one "twue" fruit.

I've been blogging for about four years, most of which I identified as a submissive. That has changed. And so, I have noticed, has the way that some people approach their comments. It has also changed my perspective about the comments and posts that I have read elsewhere.

If you are going to criticize someone as being too far in, as not looking out for themselves enough, for abandoning what you believe reality to be, for living in the deep end and sharing their views, perhaps it would be good to check your own insecurities before passing judgement.
If I am advocating for too much and you are afraid that you aren't giving enough, it is not a reflection on me if you feel that I think I am better. It is simply your interpretation of my thoughts.
I live in my mind, and as the saying goes, "I am both better and worse than you can possibly imagine". I know that I am not better than you simply because I live my life as a slave. Nor am I any worse.

Slave, submissive, or vanilla, we all strive to live in a way that works for us. My way is better because it's mine (well, his). Ideally, we are all happy enough with our choices to feel the same way, and intelligent enough to think about what comes out of our mouths (or fingers, as the case may be) before we allow our own insecurities to criticize others.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

I Think I'm in Love...

Last night he was hurting me and calling me a dirty whore.

Today he introduced me to someone as his "Beautiful wife".

I think I'm in love...

Monday, July 28, 2014

The World Stopped

As he grabbed my throat to counter the resistance which I could not help but to give, and brought the water to my face, I had a long moment of new-found panic. The struggle did no good, and my desperate attempts at escape ended with me in the corner of the shower on my toes, gasping for air through the waves of water...Until he was done. Until he allowed me to breathe and released me...

When I saw the cane, I grabbed my pillow. As if clutching it desperately and scrambling across the bed into the corner would somehow save me from what was to come.

I tried to beg out, but he would have none of it.

By eight, I was sure that he was going to ten, (because he seems to like round numbers) and I knew that I couldn't possibly handle it.

When the words, "Eleven. Thank you Master, may I please have another?" slid past my lips, I knew he was going to twenty. Twenty was going to be twelve more than I could handle.

He stopped at thirteen. Somewhere in the haze, my brain registered a slightly disconnected surprise at the odd number. I was too grateful for the fact that it was over to offer any comments.

At some point, he asked me why I was so far away. My response was that I just couldn't come back. It had been too long.

"Silly girl, you haven't left. You can't. That's not the way this works." He whispered, as he shoved my face into the bed and entered me from behind.

At one point he asked me what was up with me lately. It's this underhanded thing he does when he knows that I can barely speak and my brain is mush. "I need more upkeep", was my honest response. In my endorphin fueled haze, I found myself wondering about the validity of "upkeep", was it really a word...?

It didn't matter. Because after a certain point, words become meaningless, and I realize that thought is an abstract and distant experience without form.

For just a little while, he made the world stop. And I went to sleep, not arguing with the daily demons in my mind, but hearing his voice growling quietly in my head, "Mine. Always Mine."

Sunday, July 27, 2014

My Bad...

So...Remember a little while back, when I was complaining about his terrible procrastination?


Guess who dealt with all of their important paperwork, and who still hasn't sent off the water bill that was due last week.

*Head desk*

Still doesn't mean that I was wrong...

Saturday, July 26, 2014

He Makes Me Be Better

I've been thinking again...

He makes me a better person. Not just figuratively, he literally makes me be a better person. Sometimes I resent that fact, but overall, it's good for me. I guess...

I could give anyone anything, let anyone take advantage, go to any lengths, and part the damn seas for them. I could just as easily morally justify taking a baseball bat...
Overall, there's not usually a whole lot of in between in how I feel about people.

Alpha, on the other hand, is a fairly easy-going man. He always tries to see where other people are coming from, and understand the reasoning behind the fucked up things they do.

Me? I can be somewhat unreasonable in that I don't really care why people do the fucked up things they do. As long as I have done nothing to warrant their derision, the motivation matters not one bit to me.

I also have a consistently malfunctioning brain to mouth filter, (just in case no one noticed) and he encourages a certain amount of polite self censorship.

I had an interesting conversation the other day...My mother and I had initiated an intervention because it's totally not okay for a full grown man to be beating on his mom.
Let's just say that this particular conversation was a bit of backlash from that situation. Eventually, the words "Should I just off myself?" were uttered in an appropriately dramatic fashion. I was a good girl. Every part of my brain was screaming, "Just remember dude, up the river, not across! Instead, I diplomatically settled for, "Suicide is a bitch way out. Don't be stupid".

Maybe that brain to mouth filter still needs a tiny bit of polishing...

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

All I Have to Say

And that, my friends, is all I have to say about anything. Except that I really wish they had used the proper spelling of "too" for that second-to-last line...

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Time Will Tell...

I guess only time will tell...Maybe it won't be hell.

I thought about pulling out my cards and doing a reading for the first time in years...But I don't think that I will...My readings have always been extremely accurate. When I was younger, I wanted to know. I'm not sure why I wanted so badly to see what was coming...I don't want to know anymore. Because what has been seen cannot be unseen. And it's never funny.

Knowing won't change a damn thing about going.

Friday, July 18, 2014

Graceful Acceptance

It's something that I have worked hard on over the years. Of course, there is evidence, (in print no less) that demonstrates numerous failings of my efforts at graceful acceptance.

He looked so totally overwhelmed this morning, that I felt kind of bad for getting so frustrated yesterday. On the bright side, I let all my frustrations out on the blog, not him. That counts for something, right?
Though, I have always felt that there's this fine line between displaying real feelings, and public disrespect. Of course, there's not really a whole lot of options for venting, you know. I can't exactly call my mom up and complain about this whole slave thing and his procrastination...That would go over super well.


Sometimes I find it odd, the circumstances in which I find myself able and not able to display graceful acceptance. In the beginning, I thought it would be the kinky stuff, the stuff that had to do with my body. Rules about what I wore, where I went, who I talked to...

Silly, silly girl.

Very rarely is it ever any of those things. It's usually the nitty gritty day-to-day life stuff. It's the sick kids, the work schedule, procrastination and demand, checking the mail and paying the bills. It's having to help him with work, always on his schedule regardless of mine, because it's his work. It's those moments when I disagree with the decisions he makes.

Graceful acceptance, it's a beautiful thing. I strive for it, practice it as best I can, and so often fall short. I think it's an important ability for a slave to have. Even now though, after all these years, I still struggle with my search for grace.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Sometimes I Want to Kick Him

That's putting it mildly.

He puts everything off until the last minute, which in turn not only stresses me out, it leaves me scrambling to do what I have to do, because what I have to do is always invariably linked to what he has to do.

I need a payroll summary to renew our insurance. Been asking for it since last month. Nada.
Credit card payment needed to be made. I reminded him repeatedly. It's now overdue.
There are serious issues with the contract this company wants him to sign. He's putting off dealing with it for yet another day, when everything is on a tight deadline and I'm the one who has to get it all notarized (yes, living where we do, that is a big deal).
He uses chess to avoid life and dealing with shit that needs to be dealt with. Or me. Whichever is more present at the moment.

When I bring any of it up, I'm nagging. When he does it all too late, it sucks for everyone and costs us money we don't have.

So here really soon, we're not going to have insurance.
The credit card payment is larger.
The contract thing is just a fucking nightmare.
And I'll most likely be navigating my way through various parades to get his shit notarized because he put it off to the last fucking minute.
The chess thing just pisses me off.

This slave shit is highly overrated.

It's a shame that the week's not over yet...
The last time I did a post like this, he got pretty pissed off at me. Guess I'll find out right quick if he still reads here, huh?

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Not the Man I thought He Was

On my innocent little way to the bathroom late last night, I caught him doing something truly horrifying, something that I never thought he would do...

He was watching porn. "It's just porn", you say? Not just any porn, oh no. Far worse.
Vanilla porn. My darling sadistic, twisted, perverted Master, was watching vanilla porn.

Worse still, he was unapologetic when confronted with the depths of his transgression. In fact, he laughed in my face!
While this discovery has shocked me to the core, I am slowly recovering and we will somehow weather this storm.

If you don't have a sense of humor, you should probably go away now.

Too late?

Sunday, July 13, 2014

99 Problems

So I'm lying in bed the other night, doing what I usually do before heading off to dreamland--worrying about various stuff.
Eventually, there's that moment when my mind goes blank and I'm starting to drift off...Then the most ridiculous thought crosses my mind: Shouldn't I be worrying about something?
For real?! What the hell is up with that?
I think I have a problem...

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Real People Do Not Reality Make

Normally, I prefer to watch shitstorms from afar in fascinated horror. Unless, of course I'm in the middle of it. Scrap that, shitstorms are always better from afar. But I do keep in mind that there are real people at the center of them, even if I'm lucky enough to not be one of them.

This time though, I think that I'm going to offer some opinions to the world in general, even though it has nothing at all to do with me. While I do not wish to feed the need for attention that some people have, I also have something to say, and it's not fading out of my mind quite as fast as I had hoped.

So this is about people. No matter the context, we are all human, and humanity is not always good, nor are people always worth caring about.
Everyone has a line that once crossed, there is no going back. While I am saddened by the people I have cut out of my life because of that line, including someone I practically raised, that line is a necessary component to the well-being of myself and my family.

Upon occasion, I have been accused of being aloof and stuck up. Such statements never fail to make me blink in surprise, because I consider myself to be neither.

The thing is, people lie. One day someone will be your best friend, the next they will show you that the years you spent "knowing" each other were all bullshit. It has happened to me more times than I care to admit. So I keep to myself. I don't look for new friends, I don't often take people at  their word, and I try really hard to  ignore the itch for female confidants.

I see people getting truly hurt by the lies of others, and becoming justifiably angry about deceptions. The truth is, people lie. I long ago discovered that my addiction to the truth is not shared by many. Sometimes people  get needy, and they fill those needs in whatever manner they can. Often any attention will do.

Why, here in Blogland, should it be any different?

I am always open to new interactions, and have been blessed with a few ladies who I consider to be my friends. But for the most part, I keep my interactions confined to blogs themselves.
Sure, there are real people on the other side of the page, but there's no guarantee that real people will share their reality.

I learned long ago to trust that moment when something or someone feels...Off. I have regretted every time I talked myself out of trusting that first instinct.

I think that sometimes we get lonely. Sometimes we aren't happy with our own reality. Sometimes real people falsify reality, and real people get hurt. Because they believed. Because they cared. Because they gave in to that itch for female confidants. Because sometimes we all get a little bit lonely and need someone to talk to.

I have been accused of being cold and hard to reach, but the truth is, it's better to be lonely than lied to. There's so much less heartache.

To some of us, a lie is a big deal, to others it is simply something they move on from--no big deal.
The truth is, not everyone tells the truth.

I was raised in a painfully truthful household, a place where honesty was valued above all else, and lying was the ultimate crime. I hate to admit how long it took me to absorb the fact that not everyone has that approach.

In my experience, lies come from an inner unhappiness, the desire for attention, a lack of belief in ones self. The need for attention that only drama can bring. And sometimes people just want to fit in, an affliction that I am thankfully not very prone to given that I've never really fit in anywhere.

I do feel like bloggers have a certain responsibility to their readers. Blogs are a huge resource for people beginning to explore D/s and DD. Creating fictional realities sets up false expectations of how newbies think that their realities should be and what really constitutes a lifestyle where one partner is fundamentally in control.

As a general rule, I just walk away from blogs if I smell bullshit, and try to keep my quiet when reality strikes. That is why I rarely reach out, and I keep my circle small. Because not everyone values honesty, and I've been burned enough times to realize that it hurts like a bitch to be the only one in a friendship who is being honest.

Since I'm promoting the business of being truthful, there really are some ladies in Blogland that I would love to meet, and maybe if I'm very lucky, one day I'll be able to take that step off the ledge and the internet. Ultimately, that decision will never be up to me though. Alpha trusts my judgement, but values his privacy to an extreme.

Anyways, I'm getting off track, as usual...

I do think that a lot of bloggers share their truth, and there is probably more honesty than not. In the anonymity of the internet, who better to be than oneself?
My observations over the last four years have led me to believe that the majority of false blogs exist to garner attention and sympathy, and are quite entertaining and very short-lived. That's one of the reasons that the current blow up in DD circles is so extensive--some people are capable of taking lying to an extreme that many of us have a difficult time even conceiving of.

Often I see DD and D/s circles described as having a kind of familial relationship, and I see the merit in that, I really do, it is one of the things that I appreciate about Blogland; however, sometimes family will screw you over worse than any stranger ever could. People we have invited into our home and known for years have betrayed us in epic ways that shocked me to my core. People are people, and those who blog are no exception.

Sometimes it gets lonely because it's nice to have friends, because we all want to believe in the inherent goodness of people. The truth is, people are not innately good, nor are they necessarily interested in being truthful. Because real people do not reality make.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Still Doing it Wrong

"I need more attention!"
"You think? Did you not get what you want?"
"You know what I want!"
"Go make me coffee!"
"You're doing it wrong!"

Clearly, this quote came straight from his brain.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Just For A Moment...

Lay me out before you and meet your needs
let me fly away on the wings of your dreams
take what is yours and allow me to drown in your sea
floating free within the bounds of you and me.

Take me to that place where everything disappears into your grace
sate your desires in the fires of my pain
and wash the world away
just for a moment...


Monday, July 7, 2014

It Pains Me Dearly to Admit...

I pains me dearly to admit this, but I was feeling neglected and may have been being a rotten bit of a brat. I was in trouble, and I knew it. He knew it too.
I actually covered my mouth to keep in the words that I couldn't believe were pouring out. It did no good--my eyes gave me away. And maybe something about the set of my jaw...

The stick hurt, but it didn't help.

As he held my face under the shower, I had one of those reactions. You know, the kind where you can't believe it's happening, and your brain is frantically telling you to stfu before you drown because you're an idiot? No, just me then?
Yea...I laughed.
I couldn't even breathe. And I was ready to behave. And I was remorseful. It just...Came out!

And under I went. Again. The look on his face was totally incredulous, and disturbingly determined.

He got what he wanted.

I was not obstinate, and I certainly wasn't laughing.


Sunday, July 6, 2014

Good Times...

 Another fun filled post here. That sentence was appropriately dripping with sarcasm, I assume?

Okay, so I know this is probably a bit stupid, but it's becoming apparent to me that some things may never change. I have an appointment with a gynecologist tomorrow. Another male. Why, you might ask, if the thought freaks me out and brings on the most minute of panic attacks, would I make such an appointment and not find a female practitioner? It's all about timing. Our insurance is up at the end of the month, and I got in with whoever could see me.

Why is it always the old white guys? I mean, I'm not saying a different race would be preferable, just wtf is my luck with the dudes older than my deceased grandparents? The last one I saw wanted to remove all my reproductive organs...I wouldn't even let him do the invasive diagnostic tests because he was so chop happy, I thought he would get carried away and start taking stuff out if he found what he was looking for. Okay, so it was a thought confirmed by his own statements.

So yea...The combination of having some dude poke around in my business, and the plethora of bad news that such appointments seem to continually deliver, is not making me want to race towards tomorrow in gleeful bounds.

Alpha used to come to these appointments with me...It always seemed to make the gynecologists exceedingly uncomfortable, but hey, they're not the one's in stirrups, so I never spent much time worrying about their comfort levels. I hate going to these appointments alone.

And the STD tests...I..Oh, meh.
I understand that people cheat and patients lie. But really, how pushy you gotta be? One of the last Dr.'s I saw wouldn't let it go until I lost my temper tongue and told him that I had the kind of relationship where, if my husband wanted to screw someone else, he would just do it in front of me, but they could do the damn tests if they really really wanted. They decided those tests might actually be unnecessary.

Good times, right?

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Suck It Up, Princess

I had one of those days:
Alpha finally had a day off, and I had to work.
My client ended up being home, so it sucked that I had both kids with me.
My car overheated.
My other client forgot to leave me my check.
I blew off my mom and came home in disillusionment.

Now that I've gotten the whining out of my system...

I pulled out the punishment book a couple of days ago. Eek. Seems it hasn't been updated since April. April!! For a daily project, that shows an excessive amount of slacking.
In all fairness, I wasn't home for about seven weeks of that time. Still though...

So yea, that should be a fun "conversation". Chances are that I'll be doing more begging than talking. It's not pretty. Well, he seems to think it is...Guess that's why they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder?

I'm feeling uninspired blog-wise. There's just so much life shit, and I have realized that I need to keep a lot of that crap to myself, so there's not a whole lot else to say at the moment. Though, I'm leaning towards applying for a full-time position starting next year. I'm still not sure about the kids though...They can't spend the summer alone. And I don't wanna fuck em up this far in. Lol. So there's that...

Meh. If anyone has any inspiration/blogging ideas/questions/anythinglikethat to throw at me, please do share. I'm trying to focus back in on our D/s, and often writing helps me do that. Sadly, complaining about my day doesn't seem to serve quite the same function...

Note to self:

Friday, July 4, 2014

Of Dust and Stars

I can smell  it in the rain
feel it in the air
I hear it in our son's voice when he says that sometimes he feels alone because he can't always hear and feel what people are thinking
it is in the way the trees rustle softly in the wind
the feeling of the mountains surrounding me
the touch of your arms around me.
I see it in our son's eyes when he tells me that one day he'll die, one day I'll die, one day you'll die
but it's okay
because we will be back again.

I feel it flashing in my eyes
much to their surprise
and I know that no matter where I go it will always be there
the mountains in my bones, this place that I have always called home.

It is there in that moment between torture and extacy
the space between breaths
the moment when life becomes death and death is reborn
there in my soul, that moment where all we are is real and that reality makes us whole.

There in the moment
the moment life leaves the eyes
the moment a baby first sees the world
there in the moment when passion consumes rage
and tears dissolve all our fears.

I know what he means, the little one, when he says that sometimes he can't hear them, sometimes he can't feel them.
And I envy that he misses it in those moments
because baby, they are so loud, and they feel so much.
Sometimes I feel like the whole human race is screaming in my dreams
reaching for something they don't even know that they already have
because they cannot remember where they came from and who they will be.

Some of my first memories were of people telling me I was different
and I remember the look in their eyes when I would respond to their thoughts
oh my love, they like it not.

It's in my bones though, this land it consumes my soul
we are simply a reflection of all that is
all that has been
and all that will ever be.

Do you feel it?
In the space between thoughts
in the light behind our eyes
we are made of dirt and stars, consciousness defined by meaningless meanings.

Part of me is afraid
because here on the mountain, sometimes it's all that I can hear, all that I know
the world is a loud place, with all the confusions of the human race.
I know that when I leave here I will take it with me
and when they look into my eyes
they will always show that slight surprise
and I'll pretend not to know that part of them noticed the wild in my soul.

I can hear it whispering through the trees, like the laughter I once followed for miles
in the silence between words
the space between heartbeats, the moment between breaths.
These trees and I, we have known each other for a very long time.

Sometimes I feel sorry for humanity because we have forgotten our place
we forget that we are made of stars and dust, that the soul never turns to rust
but I am reminded
by the sound of your heartbeat
the touch of the mountains
the kiss of passion and pain
we were created to feel
to be real.

Because, while we often forget, we are made of dust and stars
surviving off of earth's tears
an infinite drop in the ocean
and so we ride with the motion
we are the universe expressing itself in an infinitesimally endless moment.
Can you feel it?

Wednesday, July 2, 2014



Most sane people would tell you that fear has no place in relationships. But I think that is a pretty limited view. Even in happy vanilla arrangements, there is fear--we just don't think of it the same, it's not accepted and acknowledged. Any relationship in which there is love, there is also going to be varying amounts of fear in different forms.

It took me a long time to be able to admit that fear turns me on. If I had a top ten list of kinks, fear would figure prominently towards the top.

Know what else turns me on? Feeling safe. And when the two sensations collide...Oh Yessss.

Why do I like big sharp knives so much? It's not just the pain, oh no--it's the knowledge that one little slip...

People will tell you that fear in relationships is unhealthy, yet all relationships are fraught with some kind of fear--fear of loss, fear of what ifs, fear of what someone might think of us, fear of being lied to, fear of getting caught lying, and the list goes on. Hell, fear of being alone is what kept half of the people I've known together.

Maybe I'm a twisted kitten, but I like my dose of D/s fear. It's not about the things that no one has control over, it's about the events that he has control over. It is the fear of bodily harm and the knowledge that he alone controls it, which gets me off.

Scare me, terrify me, terrorize me, be the instigator of my suffering and the savior of my traumatized self, and I will melt for you.

Ultimately, I carry the awareness that he is an intelligent man who loves me and has my best interests at heart. Yet...Sometimes he makes me forget, reminds me that all things are possible, restricted only by the realm of that possibility.

I have occasionally been accused of encouraging abusive relationships. In those moments I am reminded of thing1's abusive bf's, and my sincere intentions of shooting them if they showed up on my doorstep and tried to take her...
I don't encourage the mindless entrance into, or acceptance of abusive relationships.
I do think that it's important to acknowledge that humans are multifaceted creatures with various, and sometimes twisted needs and desires.
Much like my openness about sex did not make me the slut I was categorized as a teenager, my admission of twisted desires does not mean that I am all that different from many other people--it just means that I'm honest (or crazy) enough to say how I really feel.

Oh yes, give me a good dose of fear and rescue me from myself and I will be on my knees begging to please.