Grey

So...It's been a hot minute since I posted here huh. I don't know how to be be here. I was always me in this forum. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. Yet now...I have this thing...This fear that anything I say here will be thrown at me in the most painful of ways by the one whom this blog so much revolved around...So I don't write. Cuz yea, it hurts. More than I can put into words...

I used to believe that life was black and white. I prefer to see the world in terms of black and white. It's simple. Right, wrong; love, hate; black and white. But he taught me that there is grey. I fucking hate grey. And fuck 50 shades of grey for acting like grey is cool, but I digress, as usual...
My life is grey. and I fucking hate that. I want to live in black and white, or color so intense the eye can barely see it and the mind struggles to comprehend it...

But he taught me that anything can be grey...Grey is that place where your lifetime love meets that which hates you with all it's heart and soul but also loves you...Grey is that place where you want nothing more than escape, yet at the same time...Maybe you don't...Grey is an eternal fucking limbo where everything you believed collides with everything that is and none of it makes sense. Grey is wanting to run away and slit your wrists but being in love with a past which is no longer reality. Grey is, "his limits are mine" until you realize that you never actually knew his limits...Grey is needing submission to the core of your being and questioning what you are every day of your life because you drew the line somewhere... Grey is when you have sweated in sheets and screamed someones name for nearly twenty years while they lovingly whispered in you ear what a whore you were, only to someday hear them scream at you that you are merely a worthless whore whom they wish would die.

Grey is being in love with a memory that hates you but is still in love with you and won't let you go.

And yea, I'm in love with a sadist who once broke my heart. But I feel like I can't write that here...Cuz the various shades of grey will appear to rub salt in the open wounds of what was, was is, and what will be. 

So until the next time...If you used to read and you're curious about where we landed, this sums it up pretty damn well. Except for the she don't give a shit bit. Cuz I always give a shit. And that's one of the reasons I despise grey.

Emotional "Kinks"

I know that I'm still ridiculously behind on replying comments...I haven't forgotten!

I was thinking about what turns me on, what gets me off, what makes me melt and creates that sensation of absolute, "yes, whatever you want whenever you want it" with no inhibitions or reservations.

What really floats my boat.

The thing is...They're my emotional kinks. And to call them kinks seems so trivial, so minimizing, because a kink is ultimately more about what you like than who you are...

Security. Safety. Fear. Loyalty. Trust--real true, deep trust. Baring my truth with no reservations and being accepted--being mentally and emotionally naked, which also ties in with humiliation I guess.

At the core of my emotional "kinks" lies having a deep and unquestioning sense of safety and security. Everything else spiderwebs out from that.

He's been trying. Really fucking hard. And honestly, I haven't done great at jumping off the bitch train. But I had the above realizations as he was wrapped around me before heading out the door this morning. Because I felt that sense of safe and secure rolling off of him into me for the first time in a very long time. And I just wanted to crawl into it and curl up, and stay there, and please it, and exist only there. Always.

Inside My Mind

A couple of days ago, I found myself doing something that I haven't done in a very long time. Searching around for readable smut. My Google history reads like a dark walk of shame at the moment, and I remembered why I quit reading stuff that gets me off--because we had reached the point in our power exchange where I would have to tell him what I was reading, or quit reading it.

Yep, I would have rather quit than admit to most some of the things that turn me on.

Honestly, I don't think I could watch most of the stuff that gets me hot to read. I just wouldn't want to.

I found myself dazing off into space, thinking about how twisted and strange I find some of the things that make me hot and bothered, when something else began bothering me...
It's odd
and it sounds kinda
well
stupid.
But
I had to tell him that I had been reading porn.
And I really
really
really didn't want him to ask what I had been reading about.
It has been a very long time since I felt so uncomfortable under his gaze. I mean, crawling out of my skin to go hide under a rock kind of uncomfortable.
And for that moment, he let it go--He did not ask what I had been reading that made me so squirmy. But he won't let it go forever.
He's an interesting man to live with. Often, he will barely respond to the most disturbing of admissions. At most he will become somewhat aloof and cold, which is scary and incredibly hot in a scary kind of way. Then at some later date in time...Days, weeks, months, a year, he will approach me with that cold aloof air. And everything comes back. In that moment, he takes away private thought, he wants to crawl around in my mind, he wants to know every little detail, and he will have what he wants.

I wonder if that is one of the things that has made me how I am today--feeling like I have to tell him what I'm putting into my mind. As if asking permission for what goes into and comes out of my body isn't enough...He doesn't just want to see, to know, to strip me down and invade completely--he wants me to look inside, to look him in the eyes, to accept, and admit...

Un-slavey Feelings--Resentment?

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you another nonsensical ramble from lil and her issues. Today's topic comes to you courtesy of an emotion known as resentment.

"I don't want to be good...Sometimes I resent it so much--the things you want me to do, doing as I'm told, not being in control..."

It's true. Sometimes I resent this power imbalance with all of my cold little heart.

"I know. That's okay." He replied, kissing my forehead.

Ever the over-thinker, I of course, asked why. I mean, how is that "Okay"?

"Because it shows that you are bending to my will. You resent it, yes, but you do it anyways because you are mine."

I had to think about this. You see, I always thought that resentment as a bad thing--I mean, it's not exactly gracious slaviness now, is it?
I certainly don't feel resentful all of the time, but when I do, I feel like I shouldn't. It had never occurred to me to view it as an acceptable, even desirable feeling.

Resentment is defined as,  "a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury"

Hmmm...And he's okay with that?
Because regardless of the emotion I'm feeling, or the situation of the moment, I will do as he wishes. I will eventually bend to his will. Always.
And it's easy isn't it, when the feelings are nice and you want to do what they want, even if only because they want it.
I'm not even always accepting of making that cup of coffee right now, (seriously, he has legs!) let alone happy about it. There's lots of silly little things in daily life, and it's just because he can. They aren't a big deal for me, but sometimes that feeling builds...And it becomes resentment. 
And he pushes, sometime he'll even go out of his damn way just to provoke me.

Eventually, I will burst and the rudest of words will come out of my mouth, paving the way for how I really feel. Which isn't pretty.
He smiles that beautiful sweet smile
and grabs me by the throat
leaning in he whispers
that however I really feel is quite alright
because I will always, inevitably bend to his will regardless of those feelings.
And sometimes it's better that I hate it in the moment, that I resent what is asked of me, 
that I struggle against his bonds because the bending is that much sweeter, and sometimes, the meaning becomes even deeper.

In that moment, struggling quietly for air, when he's staring into my eyes and it's okay to hate him just a little bit, in that moment, all of those things I felt disappear.
All I know is need for that peaceful sense of pleasing
all I know is that, no matter how much I resent it, being a slave to him is what makes me happy.
And often that means being a slave to his whims. Even when they are irrational and irritating.

When he smiles that beautifully dangerous smile, and I can feel the inevitability of his will wrapping around my soul...Then is when I know that I no longer need my walls, because the cage of his will is going to keep me safe. And this is why I accept whatever forms his control takes.

What He Wants, When He Wants It

So all that thinking...Still doing it.

And I have been thinking some more.

In fact, it would be fair to say that I have accomplished little else over the course of the last week or so.
For once though, I believe that I have come to some important conclusions.

There is no room for, "I'm not in the mood"
or, "But I don't want to"
there is no space for me to be mine
or, "Do I have to?"
there is no time for, "Not right now"
or, "In a minute"
there is no place for, "I don't feel like it".

These are thoughts, reactions, feelings, which have absolutely no place in our M/s. I have been holding onto ways of being that don't fit anymore, and haven't for some time.

It's not as if, in saying them, I expect to get my way, But I do expect him to push past it. Or not.
And that's not how this really works.
I made a choice. I choose over and over again to live a different life.
One where such turns of phrase, and forms of thought, have no place.

It's not about when I want it
or what I want
or why I want it
or if I want it at all.

It's about what he wants
when he wants it
because that feeds his needs and desires.
And that works because he feeds my needs.

There isn't always a point, and there doesn't have to be. Often it is just because he can.

Physically, I have issues. These issues contribute to mental shit...Sometimes pain takes over. And I think it can be a delicate tightrope to walk--where "I am in excruciating pain, and my head happens to be inside out" turns into, "I don't feel like it", where "I'll give you the space you need to cope with your body" turns into an ill-fitting loosening of the reins.

He reminds me that this is life
that I chose to be his
that my total and complete surrender is what pleases him
and in that surrender, there is no place for me to choose when, what, or if, I want.

We made an agreement--all or nothing. Because that's who we are.
All in. Always. In all ways.

Sigh, I Couldn't Do It On My Own

The longer we live D/s, the more I realize how incredibly huge the changes in our relationship, and myself, are.
It's odd because I feel like we are, in the grand scheme of things, pretty tame. Looking closely, I think that it has all just kind of been absorbed into life. It's...Normal.

In the beginning, there was this horrible, "Need more, more, more, need it all, gimme my fixxxxxxx" feeling (on my part anyways. He felt that snail travel was preferable). It's kinda like cigarettes, (except that I can't have those) occasionally, I feel that craving, but it's not a constant overwhelming need. So much is just...How we live now.

I think I had a point when I started this post...Oh yes, I am disappointed in myself.

Alpha's birthday is coming up, and more years together don't make presents easier. So I decided that we would go do something fun with the money I had saved up. I asked him if I could plan his birthday, and he doubtfully agreed.
The minute complications started to arise, my determination wavered. I began to get ridiculously stressed out. And I started to wonder...

See, I don't go anywhere without talking to him first. No plans are made without his approval, and well, I just don't leave the damn yard without talking to him about it first.

I began to doubt. And wonder. I mean, what if he would prefer spending his birthday at the hot springs instead of a strip club? Because, well, he's complicated sometimes.
And things were not coming together smoothly. Mainly arrangements for the kids and our lodging for the night.
So I confessed.
That I needed his help. And for some reason, I simply could not plan and execute a trip out of the valley. For him. Without him. And I needed him to decide what he wanted to do. So that he could tell me what we were going to do.
I was actually rather sad about my confession. Because I wanted it to be a surprise. And it's not like I ws trying to plan a complicated trip to the moon or something.

Judging from his reaction to my strip club proposal, it's probably a good thing that I did confess my scheming though. He said it was a lot to take in coming from me. If he had a heart condition, surprise might have done him in.

He's still musing about his options after coming up with one more than I had thought of. I'm still trying to make arrangements for the kids and wondering about lodging (wherever we end up going). So not a damn things has been figured out or resolved. And the date is creeping up alarmingly fast.
But I'm not stressing about it (much) anymore because the decision is his (seriously, it was getting to me like you wouldn't believe).

The thing is, I feel like the whole thing illustrates a major weakness on my part. I am disappointed in myself for seemingly being unable to do something so simple without his approval/help/deciding/whatever/etc.
And I apologized. Because, while he wants my deference, my obedience, my submission, my surrender, he also wants the capable woman I have always thought myself to be.

His reaction to my confession and apology was both irritating, and reassuring. It was pretty much along the lines of:

Shrug
chuckle
I told you so
it's okay
a strip club huh
I have to think about that one.

Dunno how the man can be so damn irritating and make all right with the world in the same breath...

Possible Consequences of Theoretical Events

Since I had nothing better to do, I was thinking about a decision which I may or may not have to make, and which may or may not be optional.
Okay, maybe there was something better to do, but since I'm crawling my way voraciously out of the pit of death (otherwise known as the common flu, for those of you lacking a proper sense of drama), I get a little leeway.
Anyways, I'm wandering away from my point--I was thinking about possible consequences of this theoretical event. Not the kind of consequences that reasonable people consider, oh no. Because, as Alpha says, my mind never, "shuts the fuck up".
I was pondering what would happen to my already challenged libido. As in the possibility of it disappearing completely. Forever.
And how he loves me, and I am, to him overall, irreplaceable.

As somebody who gives him the sexual pleasure he needs; however, I am not irreplaceable.
There is only so much in the sexual arena that he is willing to take despite my dislike.
Because he wants me to want it.
But should I be unable to provide for those needs, eventually, he will feed them elsewhere.

When one begins to consider their replace-ability, you realize that there is merit to being owned for a long period of time.
Because isn't that one of the issues that sometimes arises when you have been married for ages, that there is always someone younger and prettier, someone newer, someone different, someone who wants the same things and has the same sexual needs to fill?

Yet

she doesn't know the things I know
she doesn't know exactly how he likes his coffee
or when he takes his showers
she doesn't know what food he detests
or how he likes his back rubbed
she doesn't know what he likes to do
or what he finds attractive
she doesn't know the habits he finds intolerable
or what he finds pleasing.

Those things, and so much more, are learned over time.
They are accumulated in every interaction
every correction
every "Good girl"
every argument, and every agreement.
Knowledge of each other is amassed slowly over time
the slave is made
molded
taught, and observed.
Perhaps the submissive is born, but the slave is created.

As such, she can be remade
as a possession, she can be replaced
but the time that has been spent on her is not comparable to the monetary value an object can assume
and as such
that time cannot be replaced.

The slave may be a possession, but she is not inanimate
she is unique
with desires
wants
and needs.

Time has been spent on her creation
years have been paid for her tuition
the title of slave can name her identity
but it cannot hold the sum of her humanity
and so, as a whole, she may become irreplaceable.

But, if he wants more, there's nothing to say that she will always remain the only one.

Self Image and Personal Atrocities of Perception

I know that I have a question which has been waiting for me for a while...I'm still working my way up to it. Promise I'll get there before the end of the century.


I have spent the majority of my life underweight, and striving to gain an ever elusive 5-10 more pounds.
Suddenly, there's no need to strive for that anymore--because a magic 15 pounds appeared on it's own.
Which is why my fucking clothes don't fit.

But that's not really what this post is supposed to be about. It's supposed to be about how we perceive ourselves. Or more accurately, how I perceive myself.

I love this picture because she knows she is beautiful as she is, and that knowledge makes her beautiful.
She doesn't want to be nipped and tucked into someone elses idea of beauty to fit some popular mold of what is attractive.
She is who she is, and she's happy with it.
I respect and admire that.
So why exactly can't I, who nearly fits inside those little marker lines, feel the same as she does?

It's not that I don't think that we should take care of ourselves and be in good shape, I do.
Taking care of myself is something that hasn't been a big priority for me in my life, with the exception of my teen years, which were admittedly vain.
Somewhere between life and kids, I decided that taking care of myself meant achieving more that 2 hours of uninterpreted sleep a night, eating enough to not fade away completely (though my success at that was debatable at times), and consuming enough coffee to stay awake for an entire day.

Over the course of the last year, taking care of myself has become one of my priorities. I eat well, make time for that extra shower that just couldn't happen when the kids were small, workout consistently, and am probably in better shape than I've been for years.
These are good things, you say?
Well...
Here's the catch:
I don't take care of myself because I like my body and I think that it's worth taking care of--I do it because I don't like my body, and I don't want my husband to wake up one day and decide that he feels the same way as I do about it.

Now, my screwed up particular motivation does not negate the physical improvements made by taking care of myself. It does however, prevent me from appreciating the results of my efforts.

Why is it so extremely difficult for me to take the simplistic and healthy view?

Realizations

A little while back, I had this realization...Keep in mind that I'm (obviously) a bit slow on the uptake often sometimes.

Ttwd, it's not new to me anymore. I know right, what a shocker. And it only took me years to come to this realization.

I mean, seriously--after 6-7 years, it's time to quit playing the lost beginner right?

I think that perhaps it's a case of the fact that I take issue with people who "know it all."
I stumble and crash often enough to be quite aware that I don't know it all, so I try to avoid statements that make me sound reasonable more knowledgeable than I really am.

Because the truth is

Just ask a teenager, they know everything--except this.

And I don't ever want to be one of the people who forgets that we are all always learning. Because the instant we decide that we have learned all there is to learn? We have made our continued growth and evolution impossible.

Things change you know. Often, we pause and stay in the same place for a time. Then he will decide to adjust our direction, change a thing or two, and we start off traveling in the same direction, but on a slightly different path.
And I'm good with that. Because life is about the journey, not just the destination.

Things I am Supposed to Do

There has been a lot of things that have slid by the way over the past months.
Things that I am supposed to do.
Things that I decided he didn't care about because it didn't seem to matter to him whether I did them or not.
Things that he reminded me last night under no uncertain circumstances
I am supposed to do.

Somewhere along the way, I decided that I didn't have to do them because it seemed like he didn't care if I did them.
Because it seemed like they didn't really please him. And if they didn't please him, why bother to do any of it?

I made the assumption that I could decide what pleased him based on his reactions or lack thereof. Instead of relying on doing what I had been told to do to be pleasing.

Suddenly he has this vested and serious interest in how I take care of myself. In a way, it's a bit irritating, because I'm not ten anymore.
In another way? It's actually extremely hot. Like whips and chains hot, only in a different way.
Don't ask me why because I couldn't say exactly. But somehow it's a huge turn-on.

And suddenly, all those things that slid by the way because I decided they didn't please him when they really actually did, are back on the table. They are every day expectations to live up to.
Because I don't get to choose what pleases him.

Leveling Out the Playing Field

I doubt this is going to reflect kindly on me, but it is going to be written proof of my brilliant logic in action!

Alpha has decided to quit smoking. It's a decision that I wholeheartedly support with no small amount of trepidation (anyone who used to smoke, or has lived with someone who is quitting knows that withdrawals do wicked things to one's head--and in the midst of it, one is more than willing to spread the unhappiness around to anyone who lives in proximity).

He looked at me and said seriously, "I'm going to quit, and you are going to cut way, wayyyyy back."
I thought that was very reasonable.
Of course, he immediately followed that statement with, "Then I'm going to make you quit too."

If we worked in a demerits system, my response would have gotten me so far in the hole, I would have likely never made it back up to zero.
It might have gone over better had I been joking...
"But, you pointed out to me a long time ago that not only do women live an average of six years longer than men, I'm six years younger than you. I have been trying to level out the playing field ever since."

I now understand the statement, "Deafening silence". I do believe that if a bird had pooped within a mile, I would have heard it.

He got that look, you know--the one that makes you glad that there are children bickering in the living room and you're not sitting in a deserted alley at midnight.
"You had better cut that shit out right now, or I'll make you create a folder so that you can read and retype that sad post you found a while back. Every. Single. Day. Until you get the point."

I'm pretty sure that I turned a whole different shade of white girl.
The computer is being gluey, so I can't find and link to the post he was talking about, but I think that it was one of the saddest things I have ever read, and it made me cry. Written by a Dominant, it was a farewell to his slave who died of cancer. Thinking about it still makes me tear up.

I nearly burst into tears right then and there.

I have been trying to even out the playing field for a very long time. And love can be a race to the finish--no one wants to be the one living without that which they lived for.
But it's not supposed to be about that ultimate destination, so much as the journey itself.

By its very nature, love makes us strong, weak, selfish, selfless, brilliant, and incredibly stupid.
Love teaches us to take a leap, and to fear in ways that we never previously thought possible.
Love is extreme ecstasy, and the ultimate pain. All wrapped up in one disastrously beautiful package.
Love is scary because all life inevitably culminates in a journey that must be taken alone.

And apparently, those who love us in return do not appreciate any attempts to level the playing field in their favor. Who knew?

Me and the Lies I tell Myself

I have a pretty good grasp on me, and for the most part, I'm comfortable with who I am.

Yes, the catch here would be "For the most part."

I don't "Do" lies of omission. Just doesn't work--even if I could pull it off, I would be completely miserable until he dragged whatever it was out of me.

Lies to myself that I firmly believe however? Different story altogether. I am actually quite good at them.

Uh huh, I'm still going on about the whore thing.

The thing about lying to oneself is that, if you do it for long enough, what you say almost becomes true because you have spent so much time telling yourself that it is.

More coffee anyone? Great, bring me another cup too please.

One of the problems is, that it becomes a bit like the butterfly effect--one little thing causes changes to other little things, and before you know it, something big that you hadn't anticipated changes as well.

Then one day you wake up to the uncomfortable realization that someone else knows a part of you far better than you do, because they chose not to believe the lies that you told yourself.

Where on earth am I going with this? Well I do have a direction, (or two) in mind, but it might not land on earth.

I have always had terrible self control. I mean, really bad. But I place a great value on Alpha's self control, so I spent a long time thinking that I had to cling to my own crappy self control. Kind of along the lines of not expecting something from someone else that I'm not willing to do myself I guess.
The thing is, by spending so much time trying to exert self control, I wasn't leaving room for his control.

Soo...What?

Oh yea, the lies I tell myself.

He knows the sexual part of me far better than I know it myself.
He knows that I'm a hopeless flirt, that I have a severe weakness for men with a Dominant bent,  that I have great morals which are not complimented by my shoddy self control, and that I'm kinky enough to make the majority of people cringe (including myself).

He also knows how very much I don't like to admit those truths to myself, let alone him. But if I haven't admitted them to myself, then I'm not hiding them from him right?
Logic might not be my strong point, but I'm pretty good at twisted logic!

Now back to that pesky butterfly effect thing...

By spending so much time repressing traits related to my sexuality, I did a damn good job repressing my sexuality altogether. I would like to say that it was completely inadvertent, but I'm trying to work on that whole "lying to myself" thing lol.

I think though, that his control of me far exceeds the control I had/have of myself, and that he knows my sexuality so much better than I do because he is more accepting of it than I am.

Perhaps being a whore isn't the issue at all--but that what matters is whose whore, and the control of the person she belongs to...

Accepting the Darkness Within

That pesky drafts folder was piling up again...

For me, one of the beautiful things about D/s is being accepted for the darkness.
He loves the light and shine.
And the darkness.

Having someone peer into the darkest depths of your being, then continue to love and accept all that you are is...Freeing.

I have fantasies that he pried out of me word by painful word. And I was so sure that afterwards he would look at me like something nasty on the bottom of his boot, but he never has.
The closest that he ever came was a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head, followed by a smile and the statement, "My twisted little kitten."

For me, a big part of the D/s journey is about accepting my darker desires. Not necessarily having them come true, but accepting that I have them and that they are a part of me.
And accepting that I am not allowed to keep them locked up in my own mind, but must share them with him has been a large piece of that.
In all honesty, it is clearly something I still struggle with.

A great part of any acceptance I have gained lies in Alpha's acceptance, and the knowledge that any fantasy which becomes a reality does so only at his behest.

Our world is a complex web of opposites which cannot exist without each other. Where those lines intersect are the grey areas I have so much trouble with.
But without darkness, there can be no light.
And sometimes there is such a purity in the darkest moments, that the light becomes blinding.

I have found freedom in being owned. The freedom to acknowledge my darkness, and accept any forms it takes, because the direction it goes in is ultimately of his choosing.

No matter how twisted the desire, or how dark the fantasy, it is okay.
Because he will love and accept me anyways.
He chooses which ones come to fruition, and which ones merely rest beside us in the dark hours of night.

I think that one of the things which contributes to the sense of depth in D/s relationships, is that there is no hiding the darkness away and pretending that it isn't there.
The darkness is pulled out and inspected by the eyes whose opinions matter most. Then it is played with or quietly put away forever to remain where it belongs--a construct of the mind.

Yet either way, in shining light on the darkness, we are accepted for everything that we are.

Submission, Slavery, and Other Ramblings

After my whole little identity crisis a while back, I did what any codependent normal woman would do--I asked Alpha what I am.
See, I get one question after sex. Not having asked any for a while, I tried to claim that I had some banked up but he said I didn't get roll-over minutes lol.
His response was exactly what I thought it would be (with a couple of added bonuses). He said "Mine. You are a glorious amazing creature. And you are mine."

I think that submission is often about choosing to submit. Slavery is...No longer making that choice quite as often perhaps? Which, in theory, would make it a bit simpler...Though I do have every confidence in my ability to make anything complicated.
Every submissive becomes at least a little bit enslaved, every slave submits. So the lines are perhaps not extremely clear. Nor are they necessarily incredibly important except for assisting in personal definitions I suppose.

I see myself as property. I have rights--I accept the rights I am given. Not always gracefully, but I do accept them.
There are aspects of my life that he displays no interest in controlling. He governs other areas with an iron fist. And I have learned to accept that I don't choose those areas--to do so would not be submitting. That acceptance however, doesn't mean that I don't ever struggle with it (I think my last post highlights that quite blindingly lol).

I don't have my own limits (no need for the whole "what if he decides to cut off your leg?!" spiel), I have his limits. Chopping off limbs is among them, just in case anyone wanted to push the issue lol.

We often are, or become, what we see ourselves to be. Sometimes we become what others see us to be because we allow their image of us to overshadow our own.

Alpha used to tell me that I existed to be his slave. And that bothered me a lot. Because surely, there should be more meaning to my existence? But I think that I was looking at it through an excessively small window of view.
One single purpose does not negate all others.

He used to tell me that I was his slave. I would gasp and backpedal and deny it until I was blue in the face.
But that was before I realized that, for me, the foundation of D/s lies in his definitions of it. Within his definition of what I am.

If he says that I am his submissive, I am. If he says that I am his slave, I am.
Ultimately, what matters most is that, in both forms of speech, I am His. And we both know it.

That Which Dwells Inside

 I have been thinking again...

I do believe that compartmentalizing parts of oneself can go a long way to avoiding immediate and extreme mental trauma. The problem is, it's not healthy to keep parts of your self locked up for ages on end--it has to come out sometime.
Every part is essential to the whole, and ideally we integrate all that we are into a healthy and complete form. Sounds great...

But the longer you keep part of yourself separate from the rest of you, the harder it is to reintegrate.

This pretty little critter ties in with something about myself that I have been thinking on quite a bit lately. It might not all tie together smoothly, or in a way that makes sense to anyone else. So for that I apologize in advance and say: At least you get a cup (or two), of coffee out of it right?

An often timid lover, I am generally shy and reserved, with a low sex drive...

I consider myself to be a rather desire/sexually repressed person. All of it self-imposed. My theories regarding the reasons for that are probably floating around here somewhere already.

The thing is, I see that part of me as very much like the creature in this picture--a beast that is not easily controlled, often misjudged, and very very dangerous.
Unlike the picture, it is not simplistic. Or perhaps it is. Perhaps it is the most simplistic and basic thing of all.

As animalistic as it is, the creature is also very much like a raging fire.

A very long time ago, I took that fire and tucked it away. Ever since it peeked out, I have known that I couldn't control that part of me. So I attempted to extinguish it's spark as best I could. But there it still sits, very much like this

And there it burns. Too hot to touch, too strong to extinguish, too dangerous to release, too terrifying to acknowledge.
Trust in Master to control it you say? A logical and valid solution, I'll admit.
But there is no logic here, and many things are easier spoken than experienced. His ability to control the fire is not in question...After all, the yearning to escape my own confines is merely in order to enter those of his making.

The creature of my darkest desires, my wanton abandon, the whore I hoard inside...she is beautiful. Deadly and dangerous, she stalks my mind. For now I am prey. But if she should come out to play, I become predator.

For that part of me, there is only dark desires. A willingness to do anything in order to feed the needs of that hungry beast. She is insatiable and wanton, with no care for those who stand in her way. The ultimate whore in predator form.

Yes, Alpha would match her every step of the way. Because inside, he is all of that beast and then some.
I think that he keeps it contained to a certain extent, in consideration of me.
Yet I wonder...
Would it be possible for him to truly love the beast? If she could not be controlled, she would be contained, forcefully chained back into her cage. He has said as much.

Yet still I wonder. And watch the flames as they quietly flicker...

The Possibilities of What I think I Should Think

The other day, greengirl said something about hiding behind what we think we ought to feel. It got the cogs rolling in my brain, and the whole concept and it's impact really clicked at the oddest time.

Though it all got jumbled into the back of my brain this week...But I think that it actually fits in nicely with my other recent realizations.

See, I love to let go. Just completely drown in the moment. And I am very very bad at it--think hanging on with bleeding fingernails until the very last desperate gasp.

I think this is something that has been holding me back for a long time. Say, I dunno--a lifetime? Never claimed I wasn't a slow learner lol.
A while back I had a light bulb moment where I realized that submitting how I thought that I should, wasn't really submitting.
This realization about how I think I should feel about things was very similar for me.

It is unusual for me to let go in completely wanton abandon. Because somewhere in the back of mind, I think that I shouldn't.
And lets face it, rolling around in a completely mindless ball of need, begging to be fucked, pretty much puts me completely at his mercy. And still I pretend that isn't where I long to be.

And I perform useless little acts of rebellion trying to pretend that I want less control not more, that I can't be a wanton whore, that my soul doesn't melt when he takes control of me.

I consistently try to pretend that I don't want/desire/need, things that I really do want/need/desire.

I quit making sense already didn't I? Well, it's nothing that can't be overlooked with extra coffee.

The thing is...That is not only a violation of a very cardinal rule, but it holds both of us back--him because he has to spend so much time crushing the pretense, and me because it really makes it impossible to move forwards.

I kind of wonder if it has become my one foothold for control. Let's face it--there's not much left to grab onto. While I make lots of decisions on a daily basis, he (directly or indirectly), can overrule all of them.

It's  one of those doors...And you know that when you open it, things are no longer the same afterwards. And ultimately, he cannot take what I refuse to surrender.

But um, what I give up here? I won't get back. He has made that very clear.
He got the control that he has one piece at a time. And none of those pieces of control has returned to me.
I don't want them back.

The truth is, what I think I should like and need is sometimes very far from what I do want and need. So I try to give him what I think I should. Not because I am afraid that he will judge me, but because I'm afraid that knowing the possibilities I am capable of will unleash what he is capable of.

Okay, so maybe coffee won't make this legible...My bad.

The doubts I get about maybe turning out to be too twisted for him are largely irrelevant--because it has always been about the control. Not the kink or activity (though they do play nicely).

Every time I open another door for him, he gets more control in one direction or another. More pain, less pain; control this direction, not that direction; use me all the time or make me ask for it...

There are many possibilities that I do not control. And when I let out the possibilities in my mind, they become his. To do or not do terrible or exquisite things with.

Conversations From the Past Lead to Realizations of Today

I have done an excessive exceptional amount of thinking over the last few days. I think that all those thoughts are starting to form something coherent. Maybe.

My realizations about our dynamic and control threw me for a it of a loop. My first reaction was a tiny touch of panic. That panic quickly turned into need (natural progression from one end of the spectrum to the other right). Then came the doubt and a teensy tiny identity crisis.

Doubt about how far he is willing to take us.

I wonder sometimes, how long that doubt will continue to reoccur. The questioning of what happens if I fall further than he is willing to go, what if he tells me "Far enough," what if...

And then there was the identity crisis. I do think that I'm a bit old for such things, but it is what it is.
I never really pay much attention to the distinctions between submissive and slave. It doesn't matter to me which title someone chooses to go by, and I have always identified myself as submissive not slave because...Hmmm, not sure actually, it just seemed more accurate.

Then suddenly one day (okay, last week), that definition began to matter to me. In my life. How and who I define myself to be. And I'm still not positive which label fits or why I suddenly feel the need to define those lines more clearly for myself.

I started thinking about the conversations we had years ago--the ones where we sat down and discussed how D/s was going to work for us, what our parameters were, what we did and did not want to come of it.

I remember me freaking out and asking him "What happens if you don't like what you let out, and I want to go further than you are willing, what if, what if, what if?" That is when he put down the basic ground rules.

"Whatever you let out, whatever we become, whoever you are that you tried to hide away, it's okay. All you have to do is remember that I control it. And everything will be fine."

He also informed me that there were circumstances in which he would put an end to, or at least take a step back from, our D/s--if I began to display an inability to function independently.

And that was it. The basic platform we started from.

Alpha is a straightforward man. He does not say things he doesn't mean, and he doesn't go back on his word once he has given it.
Even though I had mostly forgotten those past conversations, looking back, he hasn't deviated from those first statements.

I think that it can be all to easy to let doubt creep in when one is the person to have initially discovered ttwd in an already established relationship. It doesn't always work, and everyone has a place that they will not venture beyond. When incompatibility of depth occurs, conflicts arise.
So I do sometimes wonder if we will eventually discover that I'm a shade too twisted. But if I remember that first statement he made, those fears become irrelevant.

Because apparently, he is rather good at this whole Dominant thing.

And whatever I am, whatever I may be, I strive to be the best that I can at it.

Together we become more than the sum of our parts. And the less time I spend looking down the road, the more I live and love wherever we are at in this crazy journey we are on.

Controlling Factors

I've had several light-bulb moments this week, and am feeling somewhat blinded by the light lol. So this may or may not make any sense whatsoever...

Ummm...Am I the only person who reads this blog that did not realize how incredibly large of a factor control is in my relationship?
Don't laugh at me--I'm serious!

Oddly enough, it took tori saying she would have thought that control was a huge part of my relationship, for me to see this so clearly. And she was even nice about it and didn't tell me that I'm dense as they come haha.

I sat back and realized that I haven't been craving more control, I've been craving more expressions of control. And I knew that control was a big part of our relationship...I just spent a lot of time denying how big.
And I don't know that I would have previously classified it as a need.
Denial much?

I also realized that while he rarely exerts extreme control over me, he does have extreme control over me.

Originally, I wasn't attracted to the control aspect of D/s. He however, was most attracted to the control aspect when we began exploring D/s.

Over time, his control increased so gradually that I rarely gave it a second thought. And because he so rarely exerts it in extreme fashions, I happily trudged around believing that his control didn't run as deep as it actually does.

I am willing to fall as far down the rabbit hole as Alpha is willing to go. The thing is, he'll do something so slowly, that it takes me ages to see it even happening  (yea, yea, slow learning is a theme around here). Then he waits until my level of self acceptance catches up to where we currently stand. Sure, sometimes he gives a shove in this direction or that direction, but until I completely accept myself wherever I am at, he will refuse to go further.
And he doesn't accept where I think my level of self-acceptance is, oh no. Which drives me friggin crazy. Given my current insights, I suppose that isn't much of a stretch on his part though lol.

Of course, just because I am me, this train of events usually leaves me wondering if he has decided to draw a defining line saying that where we are at is where we will stay--because he's not running around like a hamster in a wheel lil style.
He says that I'm a fickle creature. I try to disagree.

Then there's days like today, when I have these huge realizations and go running to proclaim them loudly to him...But he doesn't see the fireworks like I do--he just chuckles calmly at me over his dinner, and points out how long he has been waiting for me to reach the aforementioned realizations.

Between my acknowledgement of that constant undercurrent of D/s in our relationship, and my latest realizations surrounding control...I dunno...I just feel a bit odd I suppose. One of those, "Too many light bulbs going off at once am blinded by the light that only I couldn't see" kind of things lol.

I have always felt that we are in the tame end of ttwd. And the truth is, that I am as extreme as he decides I am.I have known that for some time now. I just hadn't realized exactly what it meant until now.

It's a bit like standing in the dark and seeing a flash of lightning show you that you are much further from the top of the abyss than you thought you were.

Apparently he wasn't joking all those times that he said, "Enjoy your delusions."
Sigh.
I do feel a bit dense sometimes.

Interesting how acceptance changes perception isn't it.

I Can't Write Smut

"Sigh, I can't write smut."
Alpha rolled his eyes at me, "Of course you can, you can write whatever you want to. Just because you don't write smut doesn't mean that you can't."

Oh the terrible pain that occurs when someone else's confidence in me goes so far beyond my own that it's not even funny.

"But I can't even talk dirty!" His eyes took on that particular glint that they do when he's about to say something I want to disagree with but can't because lying is against the rules. "Mmhhmmm...You can talk dirty just fine when I make you beg for what you want."

Uh...
Well...
Yesss...
But...

"I hate it when you make me beg!" Naturally, in his ever sensitive manner, he laughed at me without even bothering to choke on it, "No you don't. You love it and you know you do. Don't make me prove it to you right now."

Oh fine. I suppose there's no sense in denying something that we both know to be true.

Over the next couple of days, I figured out why I can occasionally talk smut but cannot write it (most of my deep thinking takes place in the car, what can I say). It's because when I talk it, the goal is to turn him on and get him off. So it's geared towards his fantasies.
If I wrote it...Well that would be my fantasies--not his. And that is somehow far more difficult.

Funny how that works...

The Detached Observer

Okay, I know that I have been on this whole "Intimacy" kick and this is going to sound slightly contrary, but I'm okay with that lol.

I haven't quite gotten this one figured out, so grab some coffee and get ready to give me the answers to life's mysteries. I'll take notes.

There are times when we are "playing" (I need another suitable term. That one really doesn't fit with what I have in mind), and Alpha becomes detached. He watches me with a slightly inquisitive predatory eye, and exudes a sense of detachment that makes me tremble.
Ummm....I love it. It turns me into a dripping, malleable, ball of goo. Attractive visual huh.
Still though...

Why I love being close to him, yet am so totally turned on by his detachment, is still somewhat of a mystery to me.
Does it really matter why that turns me on so much? Well no...I don't think so...But still...

I wonder if it's that part of me that gets off on fear but usually rests secure in the fact that he loves me?
Not that I doubt his love at those times...But I am well aware that his love for me won't stop or change what he decides to do.

Perhaps it is about control--at those times he seems so extremely in control of himself that I can help but yield to it?

Maybe it's because he's letting something out that he usually keeps locked up... 

In those moments he doesn't look at me like his wife. He looks at me like some kind of experiment where things are carefully added and taken away depending on the result, and all variables are controlled and adjusted by him.
Nothing that I do or say will change what is happening. I simply am...For him.

And there you have it--in the course of a few short paragraphs, I have decided that it doesn't matter why his detachment is such a huge turn-on for me.

As a state of life, it's not something that I could live with and feel loved and happy. But those times when it does happen? I love them.