Saturday, May 23, 2015

How to Make Someone Dominant or Submissive

I get a lot of visits from searches based on "how to make (insert person and characteristic here)". I get it. People want their husband or wife to be dominant or submissive, and they are looking for ways to make those desires a reality. I get it. Really, I do--there is need, and needs always want to feed.

The thing is...It always makes me sigh. You can make people do things, and yes, over time you can even mold someone into something they previously may not have been. Dominants are made over time. Experience shapes their approach, refines their methods, defines who they decide to be as dominants. Submissives are shaped and molded one step a a time over the course of a relationship, a little bend here, a nudge there, sometimes so subtle that we aren't even aware of the changes until something calls our attention to the fact that our reaction is different than it was before.

Yes, people change other people. Yet...You cannot force someone to become something that they aren't, in some shape or form, already.

I think that sometimes we are unhappy, and our first choice is often to look outside of ourselves at the people we are with to try and make them into what we believe will make us happy. The interesting thing about changing someone we love, I mean really making them into something they are not, has the terrible potential to create something we no longer love.
One of the things Alpha and I have fought most about in our time together is his sense of loyalty--how far he will let another person go, how much shit he will take, how forgiving he is willing to be of those that do not return his loyalties; of those who, for whatever reason, he deems worthy of his loyalty. He is solid and immovable in this. Once won, his loyalty is non-negotiable, unconditional, and comes with no strings attached. Sometimes this absolutely infuriates me. Because people are assholes. And, why? I mean, after all--assholes.
At the same time...His sense of ridiculously unshakeable loyalty is one of the things that I love most about him. If I had been able to change that, to make him into something he is not, he would not be the man that he is. He would not be the man that I fall in love with just a little bit more each day. Because he would no longer be himself.

I'm not saying that trying to makes someone dominant or submissive is exactly the same, and things work out differently if it turns out we are just helping someone become what they already are; however, what about ourselves? If we want our significant other to be dominant, are we truly willing to be the counterpart to that, so submit, to surrender to their will? Conversely, if we want our other half to be submissive, to surrender their all, can we become the dominant, the last call, the final say, the one who carries the weight of that responsibility? And if we are successful in bringing about these changes, will we still love what they have become?
All too often, I don't think that people ask themselves these questions. If we want to change someone else, we have to start by asking ourselves if we can be what they need should such changes occur. One must be careful when attempting to change that which they love, because the caterpillar turns into a butterfly and we will have to accept what they become with the knowledge that we asked for their metamorphosis.

We can help someone to become what they truly are, but we cannot make them be something they are not. And if we are asking them to become something which, by nature, requires a counterpart, we had better be damn sure of our ability to feed the beast we help to create. Because we are all so much more than the sum of our parts.

Friday, May 22, 2015

And It Was Good

We have been so caught up in survival lately, that there hasn't been much room for being caught up in each other. Okay, there hasn't been any room.

The dog woke me up at 4:00 his morning. Apparently, when a large male dog needs to pee bad enough to run back and forth down the hallway, he can still hold it for long enough to make sure he takes the time to go in six different places. Really. Six. While I stand in front of the door wrapped in a towel waiting.

Got a tad distracted...

I crawled back in bed and did the usual, "Must go back to sleep, it's to early to gt up, need to do this and this and that for work, we are so behind, I wonder, he really needs to get more sleep, did he even eat at all today, I mean yesterday? Today I need to, tomorrow I've got to, last week I should have, next will I'll have to..."

He rolled over and put his hand on my thigh. Just like he always does. Every time I get up at night and come back to bed, he places his hand on my thigh or on my hip in his sleep. Every night for nearly 17 years.

In contemplation of what my nights would be like without it, I went back to sleep with a deep seated appreciation for that touch.

I dreamed. Of power and dominance, of the comforts that come with being owned, the adventure that fills ones soul when they let go.

There was peace in the darkness like a thousand quiet candles lighting my way home. And it was was good.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Well Then...

You know how sometimes you come across a post and you waffle about leaving a comment? "I should. No...I probably shouldn't...But maybe I actually should. I totally shouldn't. Yep, definitely not." Then you do, and later something happens or someone says something, and you know that you really actually shouldn't have?


Shit happens, right?

Sunday, May 17, 2015

That's Us

I wandered into the bedroom last night to find Alpha watching TV on the computer. When I asked what he was watching, he said, "look at these people, this is the story of our life!" I had my doubts until one woman was talking about a new set of hurdles for their business, and she said, "It's okay, I don't sleep anyways. Ever! Just look at the bags under my eyes." And I thought, "Oh shit. Yea...That's us!"

Yep--that's me these days! Bet you didn't know my beauty was so overwhelming.

Saturday, May 9, 2015


While I have acknowledged that there are some key definitive differences between slavery and submission, for me they are so intertwined as to have become interchangeable forms of expression...

So often we circle back to the fact that if I'm drawing the line anywhere, we are not what we believe ourselves to be. Because that's just not how this works for us.
It's those things really...The things where I want to pull up short, draw the line in the sand, and exert my nonexistent veto power. Those are the things that define my slavery. Surrendering regardless of the doubt, the distaste, the overwhelming desire not to.

It is easy, is it not? To submit to that which one finds pleasing and appealing. That is not, however, what I believe slavery to be. Yes, there are times when I am more than willing, wanting, needing, desiring. The flow is...Easy. It is those edges I pull up short on though, those places I do not want to go, the experiences that make me cringe, those are the things which feed the junky in me. No choices to make, no options offered or allowed, being forced into that which I either abhor or want desperately to pretend is against what I desire...

Truly, to me, slavery is defined in that one small sentence--it is about one's willingness to accept things which one is absolutely unwilling to experience. The knowledge that I will be shattered into a million tiny pieces, carefully collected, and put back together again. Each piece treated like a fragile scrap of glass to be gathered with the utmost care...

Our arrangement is based on core agreements that I will not renege on, nor do I wish to revoke them.

Ultimately, I will accept anything he asks of me. He will draw my lines in the sand, define the places I will not go, the things I will not do, and make he determination of what is too much or not enough. Some people will think it's wrong, others that it is not actually possible.

The thing is, in the end, he has always been better than me at weighing my discomfort against actual harm.I have a thousand tiny scars accumulated in a very short span of time before he came into my life. When weighing my personal desires against their ability to damage me, well, I don't actually do that and I never really have. He does.

He tells me that everyone has a box full of darkness, and it's a privilege to be allowed to see inside. Our boxes of darkness belong to us, and no one is obligated to let another look inside. He explores mine carefully with unfettered access, stepping gently in the absence of light without offering judgement on the shadows. He opens his own and invites me to cast a glance inside. All that he asks is that I return the favor and not pass judgement on his demons.

Friday, May 8, 2015

It's About...

It was one of those nights...We were in bed, talking and giggling. Close. Then he said something. Not something new, not something surprising, not something out of the very deepest darkest boxes, something truthful, something long ago accepted...But I got hurt. His surprise was palpable, his disappointment tangible...

For a few years, he had time. Time and energy. There was a micromanaging aspect to which I had grown terribly accustomed, and it's gone now. No time. No energy. I have been making a hundred tiny decisions a day. Word decisions. A "must" or a "may", sounds so small but defines how an entire business will function on the ground. There are so many words in my head, so many little decisions that make big differences. Those words don't go away. Always there is little miss independent...I absolutely cannot shut off. Ever. I eat, drink, live, sleep, and dream it. Every. Fucking. Moment.
Even right now...I have a call this morning, and I'm not really ready for it. So I'm writing this, and its there in the back of my mind, swirling problems and questions, intricate needs and a lack of understanding about how something is going to work. Nagging at my brain...

I've run so far from him. Not fast. Just a slow steady retreat, until the gulf was so great...Until he showed me again, a not so strange peek into his box of darkness. A simple thing, long ago agreed upon. Because submission is not about what comes easy.
Slavery is not about the desires of the slave. It's about one's willingness to accept things which one is absolutely unwilling to experience...He reminded me that it is all or nothing, that if I draw a line somewhere then this reality is just a fallacy, an illusion, a game to be tucked away on the shelf.
If I balk at this concept of another woman, something which has been for so long, that thing held as absolute proof of where we stand and who I am. That I am his and I will do as he wishes, then I'm not all in. And we don't do halfway in.

I can't do it. I cannot function in a relationship, be little miss fucking manager, exist with some sense of stability, without feeling his control. Without that sense of absolute inability to make one single decision. Where it doesn't matter what the world is doing or thinking or how it needs to be fixed, because all decisions are his.

It was one of those conversations that as a little bit miserable, and a little bit hot.

And in the end we landed where we always do. He's the most gorgeous man I've ever known. And his dominance is like crack. He's my drug of choice, my one reality so strong that all other realities fade into him...

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

A Question of Lack of M/s and Spending Money

 Not sure exactly how I lost this one! If anyone else asked me something and I lost it, um...Feel free to give it another go, and I'm sorry!

Courtesy of Misty,
"Do you feel like this recent lack of M/s in your life could strengthen your submission in some way? If someone gave you $1000, what would you do with it? No necessities or plane tickets. :)"

Ack, I don't know...It doesn't feel very strengthened at the moment! Though I do think that something about the inevitable cycling back around which always follows these times is reaffirming--a reminder that it is, and always will be, there regardless of whether or not it is obvious and forefront...Oddly enough, perhaps, the more in-charge I am in daily life and the less I want to submit, the more I crave that mindlessness that comes when one lacks the ability to make choices of their own...

If someone gave me $1000...No necessities or plane tickets?! Obviously, you know me too well. Lol. Hmm...I'm thinking that we'd go blow it on a weekend of fun with the kids. Heck, we could get more than one weekend out of that! Okay, well maybe not all of it--we could use some new toys and I...Ahem, My "Play" collar was not in the case and I left it at home :[ so another one of those. I also may have left a bag of dildos...Yet another reason to pray daily that no one breaks into our house! And no, I'm not terribly keen on replacing those, and since this imaginary money is mine to blow as I wish, they will not be included on the list.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Funny Stuff

Okay, so I read this a long time ago, but I don't think I shared it here. Since I have nobody else in my life who will properly appreciate this, I'm sharing with you. Facebook can be sooo entertaining...

"My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: ‘Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.’
So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those ‘cold wax’ kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No mess, no fuss.
How hard can it be?
I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (‘Cold wax,’ yeah…right!)
I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull.
It works!
OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!
I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north after checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship.
I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip) ..
I inhale deeply and brace myself…RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!….OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip.
Another deep breath and RIPP!
Everything is spinning and spotted.
I think I may pass out…must stay conscious…must stay conscious.
Do I hear crashing drums???
Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy – a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There’s no hair on it.
Where is the hair???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip…it’s not! I touch. .. I am touching wax!!
I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake…remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself ‘Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!’
What can I do to melt the wax?
Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!
I’ll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???
I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment – I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub…in scalding hot water.
Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax.
So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter ‘So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!’
There is a slight pause.
She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, ‘Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?’
She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night.
While we go through various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace….the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and … OH MY GAWD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend.
Its sooo painful, but I really don’t care.
It works!!’ I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair…?
So I recklessly shave it off.
Heck, I’m numb by now.
Nothing hurts.
I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I’m going to try hair color……"
(Facebook source – original writer not known )

Monday, May 4, 2015


Too much time spent on this, not enough time spent on that. Time goes too fast and work moves too slow. Time is a funny funny thing.

Some days I feel overwhelmed to the point of idiocy. Regulations are complex and confusing. Operations manuals that promise to put you on the moon are only any good if you can actually walk on it in day-to-day operations. My job, at the moment, is figuring out how people can walk on that moon and perform a variety of functions.

Some days I feel like I'm making about as much progress as a rock that's been sitting on the side of a hill for a thousand years. Time moves too fast. Accomplishments move too slow. Shit is all too confusing and complex, the stakes too high.

Other days? I feel like I'm in my element, all that dratted obsession with detail that so often trips me up is what makes me good at what I'm doing, and I can stretch my mind in ways which have so often lain stagnant. I'm working with a phenomenal team and we can figure anything out.

We are a million tiny steps from incredible from incredible success, one little stumble from disaster. It's a...Consuming place to be.

The fog.
Give me the fog in all its elusive glory
reach out and try to catch it in my hands
and it disappears
swirls around me like so many tiny touches
whispering at the edges of my mind
only to vanish under the focus of my eye.

Wrap me in the fog, the fog that only you can bring
in the song that only we can sing.
Take me
drowning in your kiss
lost in the mist
until up is down and I'm all inside out.
Without doubt.

It feels like aeons since I got lost in your fog
turned around in the trees
upside down and inside out
all in until there's nothing left
no thought
no worry
no mind
no self
just quiet in the fog.

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Real Neat Blog 2

Thank you greengirl! I know that it has taken me foreverrrr to do this, but I do really appreciate the award! And yes, I am going to cheat and just answer the questions...

1 - If you were going to create a blog award, what would it be called or be about?

Hmm, this one is fun, which means that I'm sure to over think it! Hmm, I think that I would call it "The Brave Blogger's Award", because I think that sometimes its really brave when people share how they are feeling, what makes them tick, the kinks they don't want to admit...And I love it.

2 - How would you describe your style of decorating.

Well...The first thought that comes to mind is "practical". We have animals--the cats like to scratch things, and the dog thinks nighttime was invented purely for her to sleep on the couch. More than anything I like a home to feel comfortable--the kind of place where it's not too fancy, and you know that cranky boys sprawl out across the living room on the weekend. I don't like fancy, uncomfortable furniture, and I have a variety of books and statues spread across the house, so maybe my style of decorating is comfortable and a bit on the eclectic side?

3 - If you could have your dream job/occupation, what would it be?

Oh, this one will probably never change--I'd go to school. Forever. I'd take any class that caught my fancy. And get payed to do it. Dream big, right?

4 - Are there any people in your (vanilla) life who you think might actually be kinky, or who you look at and think "no way, but, yet, maybe..."

Yes, actually. There are a couple of couples, Alpha commented that he felt the wife was a lot like me, and initially she tended to avoid interacting with him on her own in a way very similar to how I often treat those of a dominant bent who provoke that submissive approach in me, but I don't want to feel it so I avoid them as much as possible.
The other couple...She's a very dominant person, and while that doesn't necessarily mean that dominance spreads into her private life, I have spent a fair amount of time working on a project with her (avoidance not possible, plus she happens to be the one person here that I really consider to be a friend), and she's the only woman I've ever met who has made me have the thought, (quickly squashed, stepped on, and kicked under the couch) that she's everything which makes for an awesome dominant, and if I was into women and life as everyone knows it was completely different, I'd...*Steps on thought and kicks it back under the couch*

5 -  Where would you put yourself (the sum total of your relationship) on a spectrum from incredibly stern and rigid to teasing and lighthearted?
Oh jeez, I think that we tend to cross that whole spectrum on a daily basis. Sometimes I don't catch on quite as quickly as I should when he switches from teasing and lighthearted to rigid, but I love that we kind of "have it all".

6 - If you had a fairly close friend with whom you really could discuss these types of things, do you think you would still blog?
Hmm...I do think that I would still blog. In fact, this would probably be the first place I would come just to holler at the world that I could sit down and have coffee with someone who knew that side of me exists. I haven't spent a whole lot of time here lately, but I have been a resident of Blogland for years now, and I value the interactions I have and the people who also reside here.

7 - If you had more time (in your day, in your week, in your life) what would you do differently?
Oh...Time...I have a draft in my drafts folder my about time...I would probably do more things with my family. I mean, we spend weekends and evenings together, but so often days where none of us wants to leave the house because we've been gone all week, and it would be nice to spend more time out and about. And I'd come here more often. Because you all inspire me, and I'm trying to reconcile two very different parts of myself and wrangle them into something resembling a functioning whole, and being her helps me do that.