Accepting Realizations

I am inclined to point out that this post is probably not worth the coffee required to read or write it. Lol.

Realization is so different from acceptance.

I realize that slavery will never really be what I think it should be. Because if it was, it wouldn't truly be slavery to me.

But to accept...Well, acceptance is an entirely different creature.

There are just to many fucking words in my head to make sense of.

Everything is fine really. In fact, it should be noted that things are better than fine.

Except for some this and that stuff.

And the fact that I can't seem to write. So I tried and I tried to figure out why. Because I feel the need to blog, the need to process through writing, the need to sift through my thoughts on a page. Yet...I can't.

So why?

Because I committed, what I see to be, one of those cardinal sins of blogging: I allowed my readership undue influence over my writing--I got my most likely diagnosis, and I kept it to myself. Therefore ensuring that many of my personal issues wouldn't make sense in print, and minimizing my ability to use writing as a tool for personal growth and exploratiion.
But why?
Why...
Perhaps because some things seem more personal than sex...
Pcos and endometriosis would explain so much of my life. My decidedly reticent libido, mood swings, pain, and on, and on...Did I mention up and down moods?
And while I realize it, I have difficulties accepting it. Because that means it's not all in my imagination.

The D/s...

Sometimes I'm afraid that Dominating me is like dealing with multiple personalities lol.

Now, I am not operating under the illusion of his perfection. In fact, the thought that I might be would probably make him laugh incredulously.
But I have not yet figured out how to flow smoothly when I seem to consistently run the entire gambit of human emotion in an extremely short period of time. Over and over again.

There's times I can't explain, times when I feel like there's this huge empty space. And nothing owns me because there is nothing to own in a void. That's the best way I can put it into words, unfortunately...

I realize these things.
But I am not entirely accepting of those realizations.

I know that I am a challenge. I know that it is difficult to handle the state of flux from wanton and malleable slave, to a ball of empty lost indifference and confusion. I know that I

need help, and am not always accepting of it or the form that it takes.
Because I realize that submission and slavery cannot be about what I want. In order for our relationship to be successful, ttwd has to be about my needs as well as his, and to a certain extent, my desires too.
With the understanding that such is his choice. My desires are his to feed or not.
When, what, and where are all his to choose.

I realize, need, and even desire these things.
Yet, there are times that I have difficulty accepting them because there's nothing to own in an empty space.

Ultimately though, I am coming to accept these realizations. Because he always reaches out that hand when I start to fall. Yet I choose not to take it (one could also say that I dodge the incoming hit, but around here, that would be arguing semantics lol) . And taking his offering will ease the state of flux. Because like so may aspects of ttwd, it's about what he chooses, not about the form I believe our D/s should take.

Eventually, we must both accept surrender. I surrender on his terms. Because his ownership is the only thing that sets me free from myself.
So I'll do my part--I'll take all measures I can to mitigate the physical causes of my issues. And I will try my hardest to gracefully accept the assistance he offers. In whatever form that assistance takes.

Privacy and a Moment of Grace

Privacy. I have none.
Well, sometimes I do when he decides I do, but I don't have expectations of privacy when it comes to Alpha. I guess you could say that my privacy is dependent on his mood.
He says that I would be sad if I had privacy, and maybe he's right--I like that he has enough interest to not allow it.

As he was leading me to the bathroom last night, I was complaining about this whole privacy thing. Well, in all fairness, I was complaining about the lack of it.
He scoffed, told me to prepare the enema bag, and get over it.

Oddly enough, I did very much get over it shortly thereafter.

Maybe it was when he put me on my knees in the tub and told me to insert the enema
or when I felt the warm stream of piss hitting my back
maybe it was when he washed my hair as I begged to go to the toilet
or when he repeatedly shoved his cock so far down my throat that I gagged
maybe it was when he pulled me into the shower and washed me down.

Suddenly nothing else mattered.
Because I was no longer submitting
I was nothing more and nothing less than
surrender.

As I was putting away the enema bag, I felt a moment of grace. Not just abstract grace, but physical grace.
Everything that is me was wrapped up in that moment in time.

And I truly do believe that surrender is, and always will be, my greatest form of grace.

Because when nothing is hidden
and nothing is held on to
when notions about how and who we should be are left behind
and I simply let myself become whatever it is he wishes me to be
when I surrender all that I am to all that he is

in that moment
there is a beautiful grace unlike anything else.

Surrender to Silence

Things have been...A little off around here. It's to be expected, and isn't really a surprise.
Now that I am feeling slightly better, I expect to feel the full force of his disillusionment. Most likely in the form of him expressing his sadistic tendencies.

An occurrence that I am anticipating with no small amount of trepidation. Because um, he's feeling a bit on the cruel side lately.
But that's okay. Because we seem to have temporarily lost our space. Minds are loud, thoughts are scattered, and inner stillness has been swallowed by the loud clamor of unclear ideas.

Within pain and its infliction though, there is a silence. That peaceful quiet wherein all thought becomes quiet. A surrender to him, surrender to the pain, surrender to silence.
Between the quiet sounds of pain there is a silence. And in that silence we become and accept all that we are. In that silence there is nothing more and nothing less...Than us.

Yielding to Realization

I have this teensy-weensy problem...
I equate yielding with quitting, giving up, throwing in the towel, lying down on the battlefield and dying, etc. You get the picture.
To many medieval books as a child or something lol.

While the tendency to hang on with bleeding fingernails and never give up, works pretty good on a chessboard, and has served me fairly well in life, it's not a great recipe for submission.
Real shocker right?

Something interesting happened when I made a conscious decision to yield. There was no immediate and obvious change in our relationship. There was a noticeable lack of fireworks and incredible displays of power exchange.
But...
There were also a notable lack of battles of will.

Alpha always said that he wanted my will to be his. That Dominance and submission meant nothing without free will. Specifically, my free will and the fact that I would offer it to him of my own accord. Not in token form, not in the way of "If I give this, then I will get that," but in the form of yielding all with a complete willingness with the desire to be nothing more or less than his.
The surrender of a strong will being far more of a conquest than anything taken in duress.

There were no fireworks, no earth shattering shakes of the foundation.
But I felt...Different.
And I realized that I would be willing to go as far as he would take us.
I realized that I was far more willing to go to extremes than I wanted to admit to him or myself.
I realized that I had become malleable, and craved the molding process.
I realized that submission led to yielding, and surrender was a product of that process.
And I realized that it felt good. It felt...Right.

I began to wonder if my willingness and occasional overwhelming need to swim in the deep end, made me a nightmare or a wet dream for him.
Truth be told, I think he's still trying to decide which one.

I surrendered my free will to him. Ultimately, that means yielding to however he chooses to use it, whether that's just a little, or quite a lot.
Though, I hate to think of the possibility of a perfectly good and stubborn will not being used to it's full potential...

That Feeling of Being, Known as Surrender

Surrender...Not obedience, not service, not compliance...
I think that, idealy, submission leads to surrender and the two become one deeply entwined experience.

It is quite possible to submit without surrendering. But I think that keeps us in the shallow end of possibility.

Surrender is yielding oneself to the power and control of another. It is the ultimate form of letting go.

I think of submissive as a state of mind and/or a way of being. Whereas submitting is an action. Surrendering takes the two and makes them one--it becomes an action that occurs in a certain state of being.

Submission without surrender is easy. It is a place where one can still hold back parts of themselves. It's a physical state that one can enter and leave at will--one's own will.
Submission is allowing the bending of one's own will by another. It is a choice we make. Surrender is that moment where his will becomes mine.

When submission meets surrender personal will yields itself to the will of another. It is no longer a state of mind or an action we take. We enter a state of being beyond the shallow depths of possibility and float in the deep end knowing and trusting that someone else is our life jacket.

Submitting is about trusting the person you submit to. Surrender is taking that trust just a little bit further than we thought possible.
And it's kind of difficult to sit there struggling with surrender, wondering why it comes so hard when you trust someone completely--then you realize that trust isn't implicit. That there is still a touch of doubt here, some reserve there.

I think that is why it is easier to submit to physical events than it is to things like life choices--stuff that challenges how we see ourselves and our place in the world. Because one can submit without surrendering. And in some cases, that is probably the healthy route.

But there is something mind blowing about surrendering to the point where you reach for the bottom and realize you are so far out in the deep end that you can't even see it.

There's a reason that my blog header says, "Surrendering one step at a time". I clearly haven't got it down yet. But I'm working on it.

When Feeling Small Makes Me...Bigger

I grasped a deeper understanding of a certain feeling last night. I was craving the sensation that comes when Alpha is curled around me. That place resting somewhere in between when his hand comes to rest around my throat and everything that I am is consumed in us.

That is where I feel tiny and closed away from the world under a blanket of untouchable security...Yet somehow larger than life.

It took me a long time to realize the security that comes in surrender.

I think it's one of those expansion things. And I'm tired so this might not make much sense....

But when you are inside your walls, everything is contained in that space. Sure the barricades are impressive and practically impenetrable,  but that which is most solid has the most dangerous consequences when it falls.

Without the walls, there is simply the security of surroundings. Without self imposed bindings, there is a freedom to simply be.
But it's not the scary "damn worlds so big and I'm so tiny," kind of freedom.

It's the kind of freedom where you feel like your being has disintegrated and is floating apart, but it's okay because you are safely contained in something outside yourself.

It's that place where one is smaller, but has actually expanded.

Because surrender of self leads to freedom of being.

Surrender

Surrender.

I have decided I like that word.

When I went to bed the other night, I was thinking about the concept of surrender.

To surrender is to yield to the possession or power of another, to give oneself up to an influence, an emotion, to something outside oneself.

I knew he was going to take my ass. I have mixed feeling about anal--sometimes fun and always no small amount of pain, so I tend to resist it.
This time though, I tried something different. I kept telling myself "just yield. Surrender."

And in the moment where I felt his will rushing in, the energy that is him flowing through me, the moment where normally I would fight back with my own in an attempt at holding on to the individual that is me, I instead chose to surrender. To open to him and all that he is. Just to sink into his power and let it flood through me.

In that moment I realized...That his iron will, the overwhelming power in his energy, the strength flowing through him, they scare me.

Afraid.

I have what I feel, is an odd relationship with fear--it a freezing killer to my submission. And yet, in some forms, it is also a huge turn-on. Not saying that's right lol, just that it...Is.

But this particular, and previously unrealized fear is not a turn-on. It's been my own little barrier to letting go.

If you had asked me yesterday morning if I was afraid of Alpha, I would have told you no--I do not fear him; though I do occasionally fear the things he may do, or the choices he may make, I do not fear him.
But last night I realized that I do fear the raw primal power that he exudes when I surrender.

When I had the realization I felt myself draw back and I realized that I didn't need to. I thought, "he has never caused me harm before, and I trust him. What happens if I just...go with it?"
Imagine that.
And I went with it. Let him crash through me like waves.

Yea. Wow.

Afterwards he drew me to him as he always does, and I laid my head on his shoulder like I always do.

Except this time, I told him, "I yield."

He tightened his grip around me and silently kissed the top of my head, and we went to sleep in a tangle of arms and legs.

Until he gave me what I call the dismissal kiss, which loosely translated means "you have to get off my shoulder because I really can't feel my arm anymore."

No Matter Where We Go From Here

Alpha has had one of those weeks where nothing goes quite as it should and there's just too much to do. He has been preoccupied.
So we have been spending time together, but focused on completely different things, and on a slightly different sleep schedule.

Then there's the fact that so many light bulbs have been going off in my head over the last week, that I think I have gone blind.

We were having a lively exchange that was really edging around an argument regarding grading one of the kid's tests. He told me I was "a spoiled little slut who had forgotten her place". It fit right into the near argument and mouthy responses I was offering.
It's the kind of response he has been known to give when we aren't fighting, but I'm being exceptionally mouthy. Usually it makes me giggle and tone it down a notch.
Yea, much to my surprise and dismay, I almost burst into tears.

When he asked me what was going on with me I said there were too many lights on in my mind and I thought I had gone blind from it all.
I told him that I quit, I give up--the internal battle for control that I wage almost constantly? Yea, that. And I realized that words like surrender and yield sound so much better, but I kept thinking of a chessboard, just never give up. That's quitting He laughed and said, "you could say that you are resigned to being a good girl."

Later, lying in bed with my head on his shoulder, he again inquired what was up with me. I replied, "what if I let go all the way and I need more Dominance than you want to give?" He stroked my hair and said "I'll be waiting to catch you. I might surprise you. It will be okay."

I drifted off to sleep secure in the knowledge that no matter where we go from here, he will be with me.

There are comments to respond to on my last post. And I will get to them...I just need more coffee first this time around.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

I don't really do pictures on my blog. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words though...

Sometimes I act like this...

He dismisses me with something to the effect of  "cute rebellion baby."

And makes me this

 

Puddle of goo...

Sometimes we are like this

Sweet right?

But I feel like this

It's lonely on the other side of my walls.

Then he does this

kidnapped from self...

And it makes me feel like this

Just let go...

And we end up like this

The thing some of my dreamiest fantasies are made of.

These are not my pictures. So if their owners come across them here and want to ruin my post, they can just let me know and I will remove them. lol.

Free Will

Free will is something Alpha and I have talked about rather extensively. In fact, His email is "iamherwill" lol.
It's not a new concept, the idea that free will is really all we have when everything else is stripped away--the one thing we were all given by our creator that can never be completely taken from us.
Even in situations where we are not in control, we still have free will. Even if it's only in how we choose to perceive the situation and the emotions we allow ourselves to have within any given experience.

So how does one in fact give their free will to another? Shouldn't it be, by definition, impossible for one's free will to belong to someone else?
Perhaps it depends on the context in which you look at it. Alpha and I had a conversation about free will, specifically mine, a while back (you know, one of those where I was so far under I couldn't see straight which is hardly fair if you ask me. He didn't of course lol). He wanted it. My free will.
And that freaked me out. Because, really that's impossible right. And without free will, what are we?
The thing was, He wanted me to keep the key (look, metaphor is fun, so pfbt). Because was there really any more secure place to keep it than within the recesses of my own mind? He wants me to exert my free will in daily life. But when it comes to Him? He wants my will to be His.

We all exercise our free will every day no matter who we are. The choice to pause between breaths or turn our heads are simple expressions of free will which are so simple, we don't even think about it.

All living things are born with free will. It's the one thing we all have in common. You could argue that we are largely shaped by our culture and environment; that our actions and perceptions will be a reflection of those things and as such, many of the choices we make are largely predetermined. And while that may be true, we still have the ability to question, to shape our own opinions, to make choices that take us outside of what we have been taught and raised to believe.

So yes, ultimately, we are all born and die with free will. It can't really be taken away. But it can be given freely of itself in the moment.

Because handing over free will, as logically impossible as it may be, is the ultimate expression of that will. And when Alpha reaches out for mine, it becomes His.

Inconvenient Inspiration

My best inspirations for blogging seem to come at two very inconvenient times--in the car on my way to work, or in bed right before passing out in a haze of submission. Neither one is conducive to my ability to retain and write about said inspirations lol.

Yesterday morning I felt like crap. Did not want to go to work in the least little bit. On my way out the door, Alpha grabbed me and pulled me in for one of those delicious hugs that make me want to remove my shoes, turn the car off, and settle back in for the day. "I want to shelter you and protect you and use you." Umm...."Now I really don't want to go!"

And I had lots of inspiration on my way to work. You know, those posts that practically write themselves and are perfect just the way they flow from mind to page...Can't remember any of them. Not one. Though, I work tomorrow, so recall should be great until I get back home lol.

Last night? Oh last night I was inspired as could be...At midnight dripping wet, used, incoherent, and tired to the bone. This morning? Ha, All I got is "I know I had something good dammit!"

I get one question after sex, hard use, abuse, love, whatever-the-fuck-you-wanna-call-it.
Yea, the man doles them out like chocolate to a PMS'ing fiend--keep me from going completely demonic, but always waiting for more.
And I was panicking again, about my illusions of being able to control my desires, my body's reactions, anything at all...He said "remember the realization you had about your parents when you were a kid, that the only thing that made you do what they said was you? It's kind of like that in reverse. You're not doing it just to please me any more." And then He went on to say something intelligent and confusing about control while I was busy drowning in my inability to be the least little bit coherent.

My body surrenders and my mind follows screaming insanely at it for the perceived betrayal. Then? My mind surrenders too.

Responses

I have been informed that my response times are terrible. You know, the time between when a command is issued and obeyed. I guess that's how I found myself in the kitchen making cookies at 9:45 instead of 9:15 last night...Naturally, that is not the kind of response I want to talk about right now though, lol.

I'm talking about a new and rather disturbing kind of response--where He says something and my body reacts regardless of what my mind is telling me. And it's ridiculously specific too. For instance, I can't cum unless He tells me to. I just friggin can't, no matter how badly I want to. Last night He said "yes." That's a green light to go right? Ummm, no. Because apparently, and very much to my dismay, I can't cum without the word He has been using every time for about six months.

And the other day, we were laying on the couch, not really doing anything, and He told me to relax. I felt my body just...do it.

Now on one hand, I gotta admit, it's all kind of cool. On the other hand? It's quite apparent that I am no longer the person in charge of some of my body's responses. And it's a little bit disturbing. Because, well, it's one thing to know something is possible--it can be another thing completely to actually experience it.

Feeding masochism

I used to believe that I was a masochist. Now, I think that He has beaten it out of me lol.

I have noticed something interesting though, I can, to a certain extent, get off on pain. But, getting off on pain itself is not quite the same as getting off on Alpha enjoying my pain. At first, I think it was difficult for Him to reconcile causing me pain and liking it, with the love He has for me and His desire to see me free from suffering (though, interestingly enough, these days He only has a problem with my suffering if it is caused by someone or something else. That's sweet...I think...). And then? I liked it and I wanted more. Until He discovered He liked giving it and there was never any need to wish for more. Ahem.

I have observed several things about physical pain--add words to it and it becomes much more bearable, more like a high than anything else, and He only gets off on my enjoyment of it, which in turns increases the pleasure I get from pain. Of course, while He doesn't get off on punishing me, He does take an incredibly perverse enjoyment from putting me back in my place. Sadistic bastard.
Anyways, the concept I have floating around in my head is really about His sadism feeding my masochism and vice versa.

I can be right on the edge, where it's really to much, I'm not able to get off on it anymore and I just want an end. Then, something will indicate to me that He's getting off on my suffering (fucked up sounding shit maybe lol, but anyhow...), and it makes me fly. Something about His enjoyment of it changes everything. It makes pain malleable and fluid, something that is as much pleasure as suffering. It leads to a vulnerability and surrender that goes beyond physical sensation to a mental level that is somewhat difficult to describe.

While control figures much more into our dynamic than sadomasochism does, it's still a fairly integral part of our play. To the extent that it's always there in some aspect or another.

When I think I'm done, He feeds my masochism with His enjoyment of my pain. My masochism feeds His sadistic tendencies and it becomes one of those rare full circle events.
Which is nice because it's not the same experience if He's not truly enjoying it, and apparently, the pleasure/pain continuum leads to some very attractive reactions and sounds on my part lol.

Kitchen utensils and letting go

What is the appeal with kitchen utensils? They aren't sexy, they look inconspicuous and completely not dangerous. But they are vicious little instruments. It's goodbye metal spoon, hello cheese grater. Fucking cheese grater! I always knew I hated that thing, just not how much lol.

We were lying in bed afterwords and I asked Alpha why He thought I had never used my safe word. He said it's because He knows my breaking point better than I do and stops just short of there. Thinking about it, He's right. There have been many times when I was literally taking a breath to scream it out and...He stopped.
I admitted to Him that I requested a safe word in the beginning because it would give me the freedom to use words like "stop" and "no" without Him feeling obliged to reassess what He was doing and honor them.
He has asserted the idea before that I not have a safe word.
So last night
I gave up my safe word. For good.

Another shift

Sometimes I go through periods of being obstinate and out of sorts right before another shift (totally stole use of the word "shift" from greengirl "whatiwonder" over on the right). I started noticing it last night. Ironically, we were kind of out of kilter at the time. I used to only notice shifts in my submission or our dynamic after they happened; one of those hindsight is always 20/20 things. Dammit, this was all so clear in my head as I was passing out last night lol. Maybe it was going to work with the words "slut, whore, mine" written all over my thighs (denim seems to make permanent marker wear off fairly well btw lol. A bit less hazardous than varnish remover), that made me focus on things more.
I love Alpha's control. And for some reason, I fight it most objectionable right before I realize that I want more and begin wishing He would push it further, exercise more control (yea, shit like that always leads too those "wtf have I done" moments). I love when He causes me pain and talks me through it, tells me how to take it, speaks kindly and firmly while doing brutal things to my body. I have often wondered why being talked to like that has such a deep impact and changes the experience so completely...

I spent a lot of time repressing my inner slut which in turn repressed me sexually. A lot. I still do keep it locked down somewhat. I love the way I feel when I don't. I enjoy feeling sensual and sexual and, well, not repressed lol. But I'm still afraid of what happens when I just let go. Because it shows in my interactions with the outside world. And in all truth, my past actions earned some of the terms of "endearment" He uses with me. So, for example, I go out of my way not to notice men I find attractive. Which overall I think has increased my issues with jealousy of other women because I deny that it's a human trait to find members of the opposite sex attractive. At the same time, I wonder when the fuck I began finding myself looking at certain men, laughing, and thinking "I would chew you up and spit you out..."
And the denial, it's no good. Alpha gets off making me admit that I want to be used, have all my holes filled at once, be fucked like the dirty whore I have spent so much time denying. He makes me admit it to Him. And I wonder, why sometimes still, do I have such a difficult time admitting it to myself and just accepting and being it?
Another shift is happening. I feel the abyss calling, whispering, saying it's time to take another leap further in. Willingly give Alpha a little bit more, take another step out of my "little box" and let Him finally crush it all the way so there's no going back in. Accept that I have no limits besides the ones He sets because I trust Him and what He chooses. Completely.

So much for clarity lol.

Morning coffee and fear in BDSM

In the morning, i hop out of bed, put on a pot of coffee, say good morning to my kids, and settle in front of my blog. Okay, well, that's not exactly right. In the morning (if M is gracious enough to let me off without morning sex, which goes against all that is good and right in the world. i haven't had coffee yet so sex is bad lol), i stumble blearily out of bed, grumpy that i'm awake at all. Stumbling thought the kitchen on my way to the bathroom, i throw on a pot of coffee and acknowledge my childrens existence with a grunted "good morning" and  "if you want food, make it yourself and don't ask me anything before my coffee comes up." Then my coffee is up, my kids have some form of food, and i settle down to ramble on the blog. Super sexy right? i know, i'm a dream in a sweatshirt lol. But come on now, we all live some sort of reality, and it's not all whips and chains all the time.

On a completely unrelated note, i was browsing the forums on Fetlife the other day (i haven't finished my coffee yet, i am NOT making a link), and i read a thread with a question about fear outside of play and if it had a place in a BDSM oriented relationship. Answers ranged from adamant "no" to "yes" and many thoughts in between. i started thinking about fear in our dynamic. Fear gets me off. Fear gets a lot of people off, they just don't like to admit it. But fear of what, what kind of fear, is it a good or bad thing? i have many fears. Fear of loss, fear of disappointing, etc. Fear of what may happen gets me off; however, i am not afraid of M. Sometimes afraid of what He might do, what He may make me do, yes. But if i was afraid of M as a man, would i trust in Him the way i do, could i surrender myself completely? The answer is no. Take rape scenes--they are an inherently fear based activity. i find them fascinating, extremely hot, and a really big turn on. It's a mindfuck. Actually being raped? Uh no. 13 years later, and i still hope the bastard rots in jail till he dies. It's all in the context of the emotion and its impact on the people involved.
Alright, time for more coffee.

Today, better than yesterday

It's amazing what a couple of days off in a row spent with M can do for me. i feel like a completely different human being than the one that wrote my last post. Well, i had deeply disturbing dreams, but i'm not giving them access to reality by writing about them lol.
There is something about simply just being used that satiates my internal unrest. The act of surrendering to His will and sinking into the feeling of being owned has a way of making everything else fade away. Today is better than yesterday and tomorrow will be whatever it is.
M and i have been talking about my job. He's getting irritated with it because He feels i am doing a lot of stuff that simply isn't in my job description. Right now, my boss is wanting to dictate a letter to me then have me sign MY name to it and send it to one of his doctors. Now, i don't have a problem taking dictations, and i don't really have a problem if he wants me to write a letter on his behalf. i do have a problem signing my name to something i was not allowed to write. M and i were talking about it and He said, "you don't have to do everything he wants. If something makes you feel bad, just don't do it." i like his advice, it's just easier to follow when one doesn't desperately need the job lol.
M went out to run errands yesterday and left me doing some work for Him. i looked around the house and couldn't help myself. It feels like ages since i had the opportunity to clean it in anticipation of His return and have a hot dinner on the table when He got home (as a result, i have work to finish this morning, but that's okay). As i was making M a plate, i realized how very much i miss being of service in His house. Our dynamic was shaped over time, but, in the past, even before we became D/s, i always cleaned and prepared dinner for Him. Now i spend all week doing it for someone else. It's creating an internal conflict that i am having a difficult time reconciling with. i don't have a problem being out working. i just have a hard time doing things for someone else that i have always reserved for M. i miss the days when M was the only person on earth who told me what to do lol.

Disturbing things and submissive versus doormat, Dominant versus domineering

Something disturbing is happening to me...All of a sudden, when we are having sex, i can't cum when He tells me to. In fact, i can hardly cum at all. This makes me feel like i'm disappointing M because i am failing to do as i am told and freaks me out because i used to be completely unable to orgasm. The odd thing is, sex feels different. The act itself, is mind blowing...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The other night i as i was floating dreamily in space, i asked M why He loves me. "I love you because you have free will and you choose to submit to Me little one. It's better than someone who doesn't have free will because they lack the capacity to choose. That's actually quite boring." That got me to thinking about a recent post on one of the blogs i read. About submissives, and being mindless doormats or spirited people who stand up for themselves which led me to musings of my own. The doormat does what she is told because she lacks the mental capacity to do otherwise. The conscious submissive does as she is told out of the choice to hand over her will. A doormat lacks the strength to help their Dominant, to be strong and make difficult decisions when it is needed. The spirited submissive has the ability to be her Dominants sanctuary as He is hers, she is the best person to back Him up in any given situation, and He knows He can rely on her when He needs to. This also coincides with the topic of Dominance versus domineering and the difference between BDSM and abuse. A Dominant is first and foremost in control of Himself. He enjoys the strength of His submissive. It is a direct reflection upon Himself and His abilities. A domineering wannabe looks for the doormats because He lacks the ability to truly Dominate another and he is without the capacity to control himself. He does not see the necessity in doing so. BDSM is beautiful truth. It is pure thought, pure pain, pure pleasure, pure being. The ultimate surrender. Abuse is just some asshole who likes to hit someone because he can. Thus, for him, the submissive doormat is his relationship of choice. Abuse lacks purity and clarity. It does not make a person rise to new heights or better themselves.
my philosophical musings for the day lol. Pet (my submissive life, listed over on the right) made a comment the other day pointing out that there are many wrong ways and no right way when it comes to BDSM. She's right. These are my musings, how i feel and what i see it as. i am sure some will disagree with me and that is their prerogative. i guess it's a good thing they don't have to deal with me then huh?

Ummmm, okay, so my titles have been shit lately...

The past is the past for a reason. What's done is done and we either hold on to the memories with fondness, or work through the issues over time. In the past, i have been bad. Not the kind of bad that garners and inviting eyebrow and a smack on the ass either. The kind of bad that has the potential to ruin relationships and leaves both parties with emotional scarring. Being called a whore not only turns me on, it's a fitting description of who i am at heart and who i used to be.

Last night while we were making dinner, M told me about something He did over ten years ago. Then He continued making dinner as if He had pointed out that the beans needed more salt. To claim that i hadn't done worse would be hypocritical at best. It blew me away though. In part because of the guilt i have carried all this time, but mostly because He kept it to Himself for more than ten years. i have poured out my heart and confessed my sins. If there's anything left untold, it's because i buried it deep enough to forget it myself. it scared me that He could keep something like that from me for so long and think nothing of it. In all fairness, the timeframe was not during my best behavior...but it was before i cheated on Him, before i had a clue what life really was. He allowed me drown in my guilt all these years, thinking i was the only one who had ever been untrue. Turns out, He's just better at keeping secrets. He pointed out that i had told Him to go fuck someone else repeatedly--i couldn't handle intimacy, i hated sex, i was 15, and i didn't understand love in the slightest. All these years i really thought He'd never, or hadn't, done it.
She was everything i am not. Always ready for sex, multi-orgasmic, could cum on verbal command alone, small stature...Luckily for me, M didn't want a mindless doormat and is willing to work with me on the other stuff (well, i'm never gonna loose 6" of height, i hope, lol). i have really been working on ditching the emotion of jealousy lately. i thought i was doing pretty good too. i realize that if i was more secure with myself and liked my body more, i wouldn't be as prone to being bothered by the things i lack that He finds attractive in other women. i called her a slut this morning...M grabbed me by my hair, bent my head back, and announced firmly in my ear that, if He ever left me, i would be His slut on the side anytime He wanted. i felt like i was disintegrating because it's true. The unspoken words were that He owned her too. Regardless of whether He completely understood it at the time or not.

The past is the past for a reason. What's done is done. We either let it eat us forever or we learn from our mistakes, let ourselves become better people for it, and live today for itself.

i cannot judge the act, i have been more than my share of untrue in the past. He owns me completely, Heart, mind, body, and soul. It is something that i no longer have any control over. i am no longer capable of hiding anything from Him, past or present. in the present truth is all i see, from the past, if i have forgot and He asks i will remember and speak the truth. Being so owned scares the shit out of me. i never really understood before that He doesn't have to be truthful, He doesn't have to be forthcoming, He can and will do as He wishes with whomever H pleases...and i will never know unless He chooses to tell me.

Power versus force and surrender versus submission

Sometimes i struggle with submitting and it takes a certain amount of force from M to make it happen. i try really hard not to be like that. It most often occurs when i'm feeling lazy and just don't want to do something. i would be lying to myself if i said i always succeeded in not being that way. Thinking about that got me to pondering on power versus force and surrender versus submission. i suppose those things could all be heaped into one meaning, but i see them as separate entities of their own with different meanings. To me, submitting is giving into something/someone, letting it happen. Surrender is falling to ones knees and offering--do as you please. Force is when M makes me do something--power is when His look or motion alone makes me do what He wants just to please. Force gets submission, power incurs surrender.
One is not nessessarily better than the other. Being the object force is directed at can be quite enjoyable and i love submitting. For me they bring different feelings, sensations, and emotions. i could be quite wrong here and the only differences are in how i perceive things day to day; moment to moment...
i had a really clear thought form going for a minute...i'll probably just have to add to this later lol