Blah!

I feel like this blog is turning into a place to whine and I don't want to do that. I just don't know what do do with all this frustration. Pain is taking over my life, it has infiltrated every part of my life, every waking moment.

I finally bit the bullet and did what the Boss suggested I should do, I called my pain doc to request some sort of change in my pain meds because I'm not getting adequate relief. Just as I'd feared, the doc is refusing to make any changes to my meds and is insisting that I make an appointment to discuss a discogram so I can be evaluated for a fusion. I don't even know when I can get time off to make an appointment much less the time for a discogram. The earliest I could even consider surgery would be December because of my job. I have to work here a year before I'm eligible for any sort of disability payments.

I'm starting to feel disabled. I have to plan every little bit of my life to be sure I've got enough energy to do any activity and I have to be sure the activity won't leave me hurting the next day too. It's frustrating as all get out. This story is the one I mentioned a while back and it really does describe pretty accurately what it's like to live with a chronic condition, only I very rarely have a spoon in reserve.

Maybe my out of control anger is linked to all of this. I can't rage about my losses and I'm helpless to do anything to fix the situation at this point. I'm so stuck on everything I can't do that I'm having trouble being thankful for the things I still can do. I want to be able to serve my owner the way I did before the end of last August. I want to be able to have sex as enthusiastically and in whichever position we choose without having to worry about how it's going to affect my pain levels the next day. I want to be able to engage in heavy SM again, complete with take down/resistance play. I'm really angry and upset about the loss of that. I HATE being disabled and I'm SCARED that it will only get worse and eventually I'll be crippled by it.

I had someone suggest today that I need to mourn what I'm losing/have lost but I don't know how to do that because I'm still looking for loopholes and I still have a tiny bit of hope that I can be "fixed".

Still, I've been flirting with the idea of using a cane for the bad days and trying to get used to the idea that I may need to get one. I've been considering talking to my doctor about putting "permanent" in my file so I can get a handicap parking sign for my car too but I'm afraid he'll refuse that too. He has always seemed so certain that either this would heal or it could be fixed somehow so I bought into that idea too. When do you finally give up and say "This is the best it's ever going to be, it's time to deal with it."?

The Boss is encouraging and supportive and I appreciate that. I'm thankful that he doesn't treat me with kid gloves and lets me serve unless I'm in obvious distress. He's trying to trust that I'll let him know when I'm at my limit. I'm still pushing myself until I've gone just a hair beyond my limit, I can't help doing it I'm kind of stubborn that way. I've had a pretty bad example of someone giving up in a similar situation. My mother has pretty much made herself bedridden because of chronic pain and depression. There is so much she could still do but doesn't, instead she sleeps her life away. I don't want to do that, I want to live my life to the fullest, not waste it like she's done. Maybe the thing that scares me the most isn't being crippled by my condition but instead it's the thought of becoming her that does it.

Bad Dog No Biscuit

I've been behaving badly and I feel like I deserve to be punished. I need to be held accountable for my behavior.

The Boss teases me about it but I do have a bit of road rage, he's listened to me rant about other drivers over the phone on my drive home. I'd never really given it any thought until today but jeez, I'm ashamed of myself. Why would anyone want to listen to me rant about other drivers? The answer is simple, they wouldn't. I need to settle down and just let it go, I can't control other drivers and ranting about them just makes me look and sound like trash. The Boss doesn't own trash and I'm insulting him by acting that way.

I overreacted yesterday on the phone with the Boss. His employer mistreats him and it upsets me to see him mistreated, I want so badly to fix it for him. I get frustrated and I end up venting at him instead of to him. The same thing happens when I get frustrated about having to wait to get any sort of relief for my back. I vent at him over things he has no control over himself. It's as if I expect him to be able to fix it and I get upset when he can't.

I don't think my feelings are necessarily wrong it's just that the way I express them is in appropriate. Venting, or yelling, at one's owner is childish and very unbecoming.

I've written him an apology for my behavior and I hope we'll have a chance to talk about it this evening. I just wish there was some tangible way I could make amends to him. He deserves a lot better from me than what I've given lately.

Memory Lane

On one of the e-mail lists I'm a member of there was a discussion about what brought one to the leather lifestyle. My first answer was short and to the point "The Boss, Easyrider, and the computer. In that order." That's the short answer. The long answer is a lot more involved and giving the short answer got me to thinking about how I got to where I am today.

Before I met the Boss at the tender age of 15 (going on 30) I believed my mother's line that women ought to be strong and women don't need men for anything but sex once in a while. Her definition of strong translates to domineering and dominant.

I tried very hard for many years to be just that, strong, dominating, and domineering. I kept all males at arm's length, they were only allowed to know just so much of the real me. It didn't help that my early introduction to sex with males left me with a huge distrust of all males. When you're young it's easier to paint everyone with the same brush rather than make exceptions and risk being hurt again and again. At least, that was my reasoning and I thought it served me well for several years. I believed I was protecting myself from hurt but it was a lie I told myself. I still got hurt, I just buried it deeply and refused to acknowledge it.

When I met the Boss I tried keeping him at arm's length, I was mean to him and tried to deliberately hurt him when I realized he cared about me and, that I cared about him. He wouldn't be deterred. He wrote me letters constantly, imploring me to give him a chance, telling me how much he cared for me, and wanted me. He likes to say he wore me down and I let him go with that story. The truth is, I couldn't deny how I felt about him any longer. There's the backstory, now on with how the Boss helped bring me to where I am now...

The Boss, for all his practical inexperience, was extremely well-educated about sex and a woman's body. He was sexually adventurous and open-minded, giving me courage to try new things with him. He introduced me to my body, to the pleasures I could experience with it, and he gave me my first ever orgasm. He introduced me to pornography too, which was an educational experience all on its own. That's when I developed the misconception that men's orgasms were painful. Have you ever seen the O-faces they make in older porn movies? They look as if they're experiencing excruciating pain.

Anyway... The Boss had a large collection of porn magazines and Easyrider magazine. I am a voracious reader, always have been, as well as just curious enough to get myself into trouble. It was the stories in Easyrider that opened up another world of possibilities to me, women submissive to men, treated like property, traded among a group of men, and happy to live that way. I got incredibly turned-on reading these stories, they fueled many a late night fantasy, and served in a way as foreplay. Sometimes I'd lie naked, on my belly, on the Boss's bed reading stories while he explored my body and did deliciously naughty things to me.

I had my first bondage and role playing experiences with the Boss, I told you he was open-minded. I didn't trust anyone enough to be tied up myself but was curious about tying someone up and he was a willing partner.

The Boss introduced me to threesomes and moresomes, he found that he loved watching me have sex with others and I found myself obliging him even if I wasn't exactly interested in the person he wanted me to have sex with. I did it because I wanted to make him happy because it made me happy to see him happy. During our first 10 or so years together we fought a lot, we had growing pains (we were still kids for all intents and purposes), and we had huge power struggles. Both of us were trying to be in charge, him because it's just natural to him and me because that's what I was taught to be.

During those years we didn't know about the terms BDSM, D/s, or M/s. We didn't have the language to label ourselves with. Now I'd label what we were as vanilla with sprinkles. We had kinky sex, we had threesomes and moresomes, and he let me have sex with other people without him.

When I was about 26 we saw an episode of HBO's Real Sex that showcased BDSM and I was off to the races. Immediately I got online and started searching for any and all information I could find on the subject. I found newsgroups, web sites, and e-mail lists. I asked the Boss to explore with me, I wrote fantasy stories for him to pique his interest and to show him what I was interested in. He read the stories and he did try but he just wasn't ready yet. Being the man he is, he gave me permission to seek out a partner who would explore with me and give me what I needed.

I put an ad out on an adult ad site and came across someone who sounded promising. I contacted him and he responded. We chatted a lot through e-mail and instant messenger, I put off meeting him for three to four months because I was nervous and insecure. I finally met him and we hit it off. He became my dominant and gave me a safe space within which to explore my submission. During this time I continued to read everything I could find and shared what I read with my Sir. I continued to make occasional overtures to the Boss and shared with him what my Sir and I did.

When I finally screwed up the courage to participate in real time with the local BDSM group I shared everything I learned at the demos I attended with both the Boss and my Sir. I was in a frenzy and having the time of my life, I was finding my genuine self. My Sir taught me a lot and helped me on the road to being a woman and a submissive in addition to being a wife and mother.

I met m'Lady at a group function, she decided she wasn't going to allow me to hide in the corner and dragged me out of it. We bonded quickly and she took a serious interest in helping to bring the genuine 'me' out. She gave me the opportunity to serve as a sort of social secretary, keeping her notified of upcoming events, etc. I loved being able to serve her in that manner. By the time I met m'Lady I'd become discontent with the level of D/s I had with my Sir. I didn't have many opportunities to serve him and I was craving a deeper level of dominance. I wanted to be owned; property. I needed that.

Not long after I met my Sir, perhaps a year and a half to two years, the Boss decided he was ready. He took over as my primary partner and started attending the local group's functions with me. It seems like things between us quickly progressed from D/s to M/s but it took about a year and a half before the Boss collared me as his slave. I've been his slave now for about three-going on four-years and we're still learning together. Sometimes daily life gets in the way and the M/s becomes more of an undercurrent and we then have to work our way back to active M/s.

Content

Saturday was a good day. We spent most of it with the Tribe, sharing good conversation and good food, playing games (next time I'm coming prepared!), and watching movies. The Boss and I headed home around 11 pm I think, and when we got home, we proceeded upstairs to play.

I'd been having too much of the daily pain to tolerate impact play but I had suggested earlier in the day that cupping and knives might be okay. He started by stripping me, he sat on the edge of the bed while I stood in front of him. He suckled my breasts for a long time, getting me, and himself, quite worked up. I was dripping wet by the time he decided to have me lay face-down on the bed. I wanted more suckling and some f*cking but...apparently I was in for some play.

He took me at my word about cupping and knives being okay and set to placing cups all over my back down to the backs of my thighs. Once the cups were in place and I was fairly purring from the sensation he turned wicked. My movements were hampered by the cups so I couldn't thrash or roll away without fear of dislodging or breaking cups. I was, in effect, bound in place. He took full advantage of the situation and, using our favorite knife, started poking me in the most sensitive spots with it. Under my arms, my sides, my butt, the backs of my knees, and the bottoms of my feet. He even spread my legs and poked my labia and clit. I held my breath, fearful that he'd leave a little cut that would hurt for days. That's just not the place a cut would feel good.

It felt like he worked me over for hours, poking all my most sensitive spots while I exerted all the energy I had in trying to hold still. I ended up apologizing over and over again when he grabbed my right foot and started poking it. I couldn't hold it still, each time he poked or touched it it would twitch, all on its own without my say so. He enjoyed my predicament quite a bit. By the time he was finished and started removing the cups I was limp with exhaustion. I felt like I'd just run a marathon and won. It felt good to just lie there while he removed the cups. It was heavenly when he used a warm washcloth to clean the lube from my back. It felt like a light massage and I reveled in it.

After he'd cleaned me up he proceeded to take steps to dirty me all over again, but that's a tale for another day.

I feel content today, my Master is making his way back to himself, and he's taking control of my body, using it as he chooses. Sunday night he felt like suckling so he did, he proceeded to lift my top and suckled my nipples for a while before suggesting we take it upstairs. We browsed breast pumps at the store yesterday and I think we've settled on the model we're going to buy. In the meantime he's suckling almost daily in an effort to increase the milk production. I think what thrills me the most about the induced lactation is just the fact that he's doing what he wants with my body, it's not about the milk at all. It's about his control over my body and his love of suckling my nipples. And maybe a little bit about how turned-on I get while he's suckling.

It's a very intimate thing; bonding. I love sitting there with his head cradled in my arms while he suckles; gazing down at him, watching his jaw work as I feel his tongue lave across my nipple. His brown-eyed gaze watching me watch him for a moment before he closes his eyes and gives himself over to his own pleasure.

Feeling Owned

Induced Lactation.... that's the technical term for causing a woman who hasn't just had a baby to lactate. The Boss has done this with me to a small degree and we're in talks about increasing my milk production to a greater degree. As of right now I produce about a quarter of a teaspoon or so from both breasts when I'm aroused or the Boss has just given them his attentions.

This all started several years ago, I noticed that when squeezed, my right nipple would express a small amount of fluid. I had it checked and my gyn said it was nothing to worry about, it's "normal". Then my left breast got in on the act. It became a novelty. I'm not a squirter when I orgasm so it was kind of neat to be able to express some sort of fluid from my body, don't ask why, I'm weird I guess. The Boss didn't seem to mind the fluid so that helped me to become more comfortable with it.

Over the past year or so I've gotten a lot more comfortable with life in general and I've relaxed a lot of my personal boundaries. I've always had issues with touching and being touched by others, especially in a sexual context. Kissing, especially, was hard for me to accept. I'd allow a few kisses and then break it off, deep mouth kissing was SO hard to cope with, I'd get uncomfortable and start feeling almost squicked by it. This was closely followed by having my breasts sucked on. I'd let the Boss do it occasionally but most of the time I'd sort of shy away from it. Bad slave, I know.

I've gotten over a lot of that, it seems like I've had an almost complete reversal. I love having the Boss suck on my nipples, they're like a direct line to my clit and having them sucked is a major turn-on, moreso than any other act. Through his regular sucking on my nipples, I've begun to produce actual milk in very small quantities. I love the fact that he has been able to create this change in my body. Going by his reaction to suckling and the resulting milk production, I'd say that he is extremely happy about this too.

His plan, to increase my milk production, includes buying an electrical breast pump that I'd have to use every day. It will be some time before we can buy a pump but just knowing that he really plans to do it is enough to sustain me. It seems that the M/s drought is lifting and the Boss is taking the reins again.

I can't really put into words how content I feel at having him exercise his control over me in this way. I guess one could say I'm kinked to think of body modification as a form of ownership. In other words, I feel most owned when the Boss chooses to mark me physically in some way. Inducing lactation and increasing my milk production is a major body modification in my eyes. It is something tangible that I can touch, or feel, and be reminded of my status as property that can be altered at Master's will.

Whine

I'm out of spoons, I've borrowed spoons from the next two days and I haven't done anything! I'm angry, frustrated, whiney, and sad. I feel guilty talking to the Boss too much about it because there's nothing he can do to fix it or change things. I have to work full-time or we'll sink. But working full-time is stealing my spoons.

I did one hour of activity on Saturday morning, I went to the bank with the oldest girl to help her start a checking acct and then a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up a few necessities. After I got home I was completely and totally exhausted, I had nothing left to give. The most I could do is sprawl on the couch and stare at the TV. I was able to recover enough to make a quick trip to the library later in the afternoon because I took a long nap. I did a load of laundry and watched a movie before going to bed.

I slept late Sunday morning but was still exhausted when I woke up, I took a nap about an hour or so after waking then I had to get up so we could go to Wal-Mart and pick up a few necessities. I'd say we were there for maybe an hour or so. I had to lean on the cart so that I could walk without as much pain and by the time we got to the check-out I was ready to pass out from exhaustion. I was litterally wrung out and had nothing left to give. I made it to the car, got in and just sat there breathing heavily trying to get up the energy to eat the candy bar I'd gotten and take a drink of my soda. When we got home I pushed myself to get laundry done and put groceries away. I had to be honest with him and tell him that I didn't think I'd have the energy to help cook dinner. All I would have had to do is make the spaghetti sauce, it's pretty low as far as labor intensity goes and I couldn't even do that.

We ordered pizza for dinner and after eating a couple of slices and a few breadsticks I was exhausted again. I spent the rest of the evening laying on the couch with my head in the Boss's lap. I hated being that exhausted. I was almost helpless and could barely move, it started panicking me. I don't think I've ever been that worn out that I could barely move.

We went to bed early last night, I was asleep before 9:30 and I didn't get up until about 20 until 7 this morning and I was still exhausted. I could barely move I hurt so much and was so stiff. The pain hasn't gotten much better even though all my pain meds are on board. I'm so frustrated. I don't know what to do to improve my situation. I've got cushions to sit on and to support my low back. I try to move around periodically so that I don't get too stiff. But still, it's not enough. The cold hard facts are that my body cannot handle a full-time job. I want to scream, I want to cry, it's not fair. I want to be "normal", I want to be whole, and I want to be able to have a life in the evenings and on the weekends. I don't want to sleep my life away but that seems to be my lot right now.

I try hard to keep the resentment down to a minimum. It's not the Boss's fault that he needs a full-time income from me, it's definitely not his fault that my back is screwy. Yet, there are days I feel like lashing out because I'm so miserable, so frustrated, and so damn stuck. I try to make peace with it, I try to accept that this is just the way my life is. I really do. Some days I'm successful. Right now I'm not. I want to rage at the unfairness of it all. Yet I'm still trying to find little things to be thankful for, like the fact that at least my back didn't go bad until after my kids were mostly grown. I couldn't imagine trying to care for little ones in this condition, I couldn't lift and carry them, I wouldn't be able to chase them around and play with them. So I'm thankful that it happened later rather than sooner.

I'm sort of scared though. What happens when I'm all out of spoons and I still have to push through to get through a week of work? That's how this week feels. It's only Monday and I'm wishing I could just stay home and rest. What if by Friday I'm so thoroughly exhausted that I can barely lift an arm, much less talk to people? What do I do then? Where do I find the energy to continue?

I just wonder what the point is. All I'm able to do is work, nothing else. We're supposed to be going to hang out with some friends on the 24th, I'm afraid I won't be able to go because things with my back and my energy are getting progressively worse. I can barely serve my owner, I want to engage in SM play but I don't have the spoons/energy for it. It feels like my life is just slipping away, the life I love and want to live. All that's left in its place is work, pain, and exhaustion. What is the point? Maybe the Boss should take on another submissive so he can have a playmate who can serve him. That thought hurts and it kills me to think of someone else giving him, and receiving from him, what I want to give and receive. But, it's not fair to him to have to go without because I've got nothing to give. I know there are several who would jump at the chance to play with him, to serve him. I know too that there are some he wouldn't mind playing with and being served by.

I hate what my life is becoming. I hate having no control over it. I hate being stuck. I hate my disability. It really frosts me that I'm not "disabled enough" to qualify for disability because I'm still working. Yeah, I work, I don't have a choice. I'd have to quit work to apply for disability and I'd have to be out of work for a very long time before they'd even consider covering me. I need to see my pain doc again, I need a raise in the dosages, but I'm putting it off for reasons I've stated before. He'll want to see me, I can't get time off until April, he'll insist on the discogram. He'll say something assinine in answer to my increased pain & lack of energy due to working 40 hours. He'll suggest I go back to part-time work. He may as well suggest I become an astronaut and go live on the moon in zero gravity to alleviate my pain. It's just not possible.
I guess I am being very negative right now. I feel negative. Nothing seems to be going right. Heck, even the girly problem I was having, that I thought we'd fixed, is becoming a problem again. I spot every couple of days and I don't have a regular period anymore. I should probably have that looked into but again, no money, no time. I'm starting to wonder at the point of even caring or getting upset about any of this. It's not like that'll fix it or make it better. I'm just screwed and not in a good way.

Venting Frustrations

I'm feeling very frustrated lately. A gal on one of my e-mail lists posted a story about living with chronic illness/pain in an effort to share what it's like with folks who don't understand. The main character of the story used a handful of spoons to illustrate her point. Each day she starts out with a handful of "spoons" and each activity she does costs her a "spoon". Some things cost more "spoons" than others and if she does too much she'll be borrowing against the next day's "spoons". If you're out of "spoons" that's it, you've got nothing left for that day, no energy, nothing. The main character learned "spoon" management, she is selective about how she uses her "spoons" and tries to keep at least one in reserve for those "just-in-case situations". That story really hit home with me. I feel like I'm in a "spoon" deficit.

It seems that since I took this new full-time job I have fewer and fewer spoons each day. My pain levels have increased to the point that I no longer have good days (aka pain free or relatively pain free). My pain levels run between 5 and 8 all the time (on a scale of 1-10).

I feel very stuck right now, there's no point in seeing the pain doc even if I could take the time off, he'll want to do the discogram, which I can't afford just now. It won't matter what he finds anyway, I'm not eligible for short or long-term disability until Dec of this year. I've only been at this job for a bit over a month, something tells me they won't appreciate me taking off for a few months to have disc fusion surgery. I can't afford to lose this job or the benefits I have. The Boss is depending on me, and the income I'm bringing in, to help dig us out of our financial hole. So I grit my teeth and bear it.

I'm sure the doc could up my meds but I'm sleepy 24/7 as it is and that's even when I'm taking 2 Ritalin SR every day. I don't think I could function on higher doses. There's also the possibility that he'll want to just wean me off the Duragesic patch and start over. I don't know if that's something I could work through; ever go through drug withdrawals? I did by accident, I didn't have my patch securely attached and spent about12 hours in withdrawal. I felt so awful, sick, shaky, and the pain levels were through the roof. I SO don't want to experience that again, not even a little bit. Lucky me the patch causes physical dependency, go without it too long and you get to experience drug withdrawal. Knowing my luck the same is true of my other pain med too.

I know what my body needs, part-time hours or no work at all. Unfortunately I can't give up this job and there isn't an option for part-time hours. I'm not even supposed to have any time off until mid-March, it's a sort of probationary period. So I can't even think about seeing the doc until then, if I were so inclined.

I feel like I'm doomed to be in pain forever. I'm scared that I'm going to end up needing a cane or a wheelchair. I'm fiercely independent and I hate having to lean on others for help. I probably push myself harder than I should but I refuse to let my physical problems deter me from living my life. Still, I can't help but feel that they're going to whether I'm willing or not.

The doctor says exercise, take walks. I've done that for a month now and by Friday each week I can barely walk because of the pain. Now what? I'd swim but I don't have a membership anywhere that has a pool. I suppose I could see if the Mercy Wellness Center would still honor my membership with them.

I don't like talking to the Boss about it too much, he wants to fix it but he can't, and he gets as frustrated as I do.

This is just me venting and whining. On my "good" days, when I've got a better attitude, I just deal with it. The pain is part of my life and something I just have to live with for now, possibly for the rest of my life. Having a fit and feeling sorry for myself won't change any of that.

Control Cravings

I've been thinking. Yes, again, maybe still is more accurate. Just before things went south I was craving more dominance. I'd asked The Boss about me surrendering my driver's license and identification to him when I'm at home. I wanted to feel as if my movements were more tightly controlled by him. Not that I go anywhere without his permission anyway, but it just seemed like something that would give me that feeling of tighter control.

He wasn't amenable to the idea at the time stating that it just wasn't his cuppa. I understood and accepted his decision without further comment and didn't really give it much further thought.

It seems that my need for more control didn't just go away, as I'd thought. It sort of went into hibernation while I was in crisis mode. With most of the crises passed I find that I'm floundering and I'm wanting to surrender again, more, whatever. At the same time, that need for more control seems to be reawakening and coming out of hibernation. So instead of a simple craving for more control, I'm feeling desperate and out of control and The Boss isn't ready yet to retake the reins, much less pull them tighter. It almost feels like deja vu. 8 or 9 years ago I began exploring my submissive side and wanted to explore with The Boss, he wasn't ready. He allowed me to explore with another for about two years before he decided he was ready to explore with me.

I'm, understandably I think, worried that we've got the same situation again. Only this time I am working full time, during Sir's free time. I don't know if there is an easy solution. I feel guilty over writing about it, I don't want The Boss to feel worse than he already does. I've just got to write it out. He says he understands, he doesn't feel badly.

But where does all of this leave us? Inquiring minds want to know. Frazzled slaves want to know too.

I need play time, I need service time, and I need time to surrender. But do I want to do any of that with someone other than The Boss? Whose responsibility is it to make sure my needs are met? Part of me feels like I should put my needs aside in favor of his. I just wish things were different and that we didn't have to answer these questions.

It's my Pity Party (I'll cry if I want to)

I’ve been feeling pretty sorry for myself today. When I woke up this morning I was numb in the saddle region (the parts of the body that make contact with a saddle as you sit on it) and up a few inches inside my vagina. The numbness didn’t stop there however, it went up the left side of my back and wrapped around my left breast. That was a first.

The Boss wanted sex this morning and I was willing until he wanted to perform oral on me. I tried to stop him with “Honey, I won’t be able to feel it..” but then I realized that it wasn’t being done for my pleasure but for his. So I shut my mouth and tried to relax and enjoy the sensations I could feel. It’s a strange thing, being f*cked but not really feeling it. I could feel it if he went deep but other than that I could only feel the pressure of him there. I guess I should be thankful I have that much sensation. But I’m not, I’m angry because I only have that much sensation sometimes.

That isn’t to say I’m always that numb but it happens more and more often for longer periods of time; most frequently first thing in the morning after a night of sleep, or at the end of a work day. It seems to happen when I try to have an orgasm too. I go numb very quickly when I’m lying on my back. But wouldn’t you know it, lying on my back is about one of the only positions I can orgasm in. I don’t orgasm easily to begin with, I can’t G-spot orgasm at all so having a numb clitoris *really* puts a damper on things. It’s pretty frustrating and mostly I just try to avoid it. I’d rather not try and go weeks without orgasm than try and end up more frustrated because I’m extremely aroused and can’t bring myself off due to the numbness. So you see m problem. I love sex but sometimes I really hate it.

I guess this works in The Boss’s favor, he enjoys orgasm denial for me. Ninety-nine percent of the time I’m content with it too, it’s just that one percent of the time, when it’s been weeks since my last orgasm, or attempted orgasm, that I get a little cranky about it. Most of the time I won’t even ask for orgasm. On average I might ask once every two to three weeks. I know that he’s picked up on my orgasm avoidance. I think it plays a part in his lack of offering them. I don’t know how to feel about that. I guess I should be thankful that he’s sparing me that frustration but it feels more like he’s sparing himself. It takes far too long to get me to orgasm when we are successful and it’s most definitely a joint effort. I’m envious of my friends who can orgasm almost at the drop of a hat.

Lately I’ve been avoiding sex altogether. I’m just tired of being frustrated. I can only handle being repeatedly aroused and left to stew so much. I can handle failed orgasms even less. It’s easier to not think about sex at all than to be aroused and get him off knowing the whole time that I may not get off for days or weeks. Yeah it’s selfish, I can’t help that. I like to get off too.

I wrote the other day about loss of SM desire and The Boss and I being basically vanilla. I was a lot closer to the truth of things than I knew. I found today that my desire is just fine. I’m craving SM like I’ve always done, so I guess that’s a relief. It’s his that has waned in the face of all the grief. He told me today, after reading my blog that he just needs time but that he doesn’t want to give anything up. I’m having a hard time believing him. I just wish I had some sort of time frame. I know it’s unrealistic and unfair to even want such a thing. You just can’t put a time limit on grief. I wish I could but I know I can’t. But I need something to hold on to, to get me through until he’s ready again, something to help me keep hope alive.

I put myself out there tonight anyway. I took a risk and asked him to play. I asked for something he used to enjoy a lot, he said it was relaxing for him. I asked for some fire cupping and maybe a little light knife play. He told me he just wasn’t up to it tonight. I wanted to ask him when he would be up for it but I didn’t. Instead I just gave a pleasant face and told him it was okay. Then I went on and scrubbed the toilet. I had a lot of energy to burn and it needed done anyway.

I don’t know why it is but when I let myself think about something, when I desire it and think I might just get it but it’s denied to me, I end up with a lot of energy to burn that just doesn’t dissipate.

Inside I was crushed-I felt rejected even if it wasn’t a rejection of me, it feels like a rejection of part of our life together. I feel like I’m being unfair to him even typing this but it’s how I felt and still do feel. I’m scared that I’m going to be waiting forever for him and he’s never going to come around again. What do I do in the meantime? I can’t dom myself, I can’t beat myself, and when I cut myself I get into trouble for doing it. I feel desperate, my needs and desires are waking up again and now I have no outlet for them. I want to cut myself right now and it’s a bad thought to have. I’ll probably get a lecture about it after he reads this.

I just want to feel good pain again. I am sick and tired of the bad pain that leaves me exhausted, worn out, and unhappy. My life is chock full of that kind of pain, it fills my days and nights. It’s there to greet me first thing in the morning, stays with me all day long, and crawls into bed with me at night. I’m so fucking frustrated and I can’t do a damn thing about it. It seems like SM is the last thing I can feel and now I can’t even have that. I can’t see Sir because I’m working full-time during the day, when he has all his free time of course. I could beg m’Lady to play but it’s not a woman’s touch I need, it’s not just a man’s touch I need either. I need my Master’s touch and I can’t seem to find him anymore. I feel so lost and alone, I don’t know where to turn, or even who to turn to anymore. I could probably accept the orgasm problem if I could console myself with the fact that I could still get to enjoy SM. It just seems pointless to even bother with anything anymore. I think I’m going to drop out of most of my Lifestyle groups, there's no point in participating when I don’t live the lifestyle right now. I’ll still blog but I don’t know how much reading I’m going to do. It’s hard seeing others living the life I want to live knowing I won’t get it until he's healed and that will happen in his own good time.

I’m scared, just plain old scared, that he’ll never come around and that it’s gone for good. I’m scared that the life I love is gone, that the man I love will never again be the Master I need. If it sounds selfish, so be it.

I’m sorry for any hurt I’ve caused you by writing this Boss. I had to get it out, it’s been eating me up inside and weighing me down; it’s why I was so lethargic today, so flat emotionally. I feel like part of me is dying, like part of our relationship is dying, and I don't know how to relate anymore. I'm trying to learn this new way, but I miss the old, I long for it. What if I get used to the new way and when you're ready to go back to the old, I'm not able to submit to you again? What if you never come around? What if?

I love you with every particle of my being, I'd turn myself inside out to take care of you and do what's best for you if it would help.

Germs, Mass Transit, And Life

Maybe I'm a germophobe, I don't know. But for two days in a row now there has been a lady who coughs, and doesn't cover her mouth when she does so, sitting directly behind me on the bus. Each time she coughs I imagine all her germ-laden spittle racing toward me, surrounding my head, coating the back of my hair, and filling the immediate air I'm breathing. Watch the movie Outbreak-the theater scene- and you'll have a pretty good idea of what I'm imagining. It makes me want to take another shower to get her germs off of me, or maybe wear a particle mask while riding the bus.

Mass transit is great and all but the close quarters will ill people is enough to make me want to attempt to walk to work. I'm crossing every crossable in hopes that The Boss will get my car running again this weekend.

Speaking of The Boss, and his Bossliness, it seems we're both too tired, too whatever, lately to practice active M/s. I mean, he's still The Boss, he still makes the rules, and has the final say but that's about it. I've been more argumentative and feeling inconvenienced when he gives me a task to do. For his part, he finds it easier to just let my bad behavior slide. Last weekend he did yank me up short in the middle of a tirade. He pulled my pants down, told me to lie face down on the bed, and got out the coat hanger. He lectured me before and after the one and only stroke he gave me on my bottom. He stopped because he realized that he was punishing in anger and he tries very hard to not do that. He feels it's wrong to punish in anger. I was so angry with him before that first and only stroke, I was still caught up in my sense of righteousness.

I could use the excuse that he has treated me like a wife so much in the past couple of months that I've just begun acting like one. But that would be wrong, using that excuse would be me trying to avoid taking responsibility for my behavior. As I've said before, my status does not absolve me of personal responsibility. The Boss thinks that my poor behavior is a failure on his part-that by my actions I am telling him that I don't feel as if I have to obey him because he hasn't shown me enough authority to give me a "reason" to obey. The trouble with that is that it's an easy out for me. I could agree with him, let him shoulder all of the responsibility-that would be dishonest. Even without active dominance from him I have reasons to obey and I've ignored them, focusing instead on all the turmoil of our day to day lives. Not that it isn't important stuff-but my responsibility to him and to myself is at least, equal in importance.

My reasons for obeying him regardless of an absence of active dominance are:

1. The immense respect I have for him as a man, my partner, and my owner.
2. The immense love I have for him.
3. The agreement I made by accepting his collar.

It seems like such a small thing as I sit here and write about it. But when these feelings come over me it seems impossible to bite my tongue and swallow any protest I might want to make. I know I can quit arguing and I can obey, I've done it. The hard thing for me-besides biting my tongue when my dander is up-is calmly asking for the opportunity to voice my concerns, opinions, or feelings. I think that if I could manage to do this the need to argue would diminish. I believe that a good part of my need to argue comes from feeling as if I'm not being listened to and as if I'm being taken for granted.

I know some feel that a consensual slave doesn't have the right to expect to be valued or listened to (depending on what may be negotiated between the parties involved). But I think it's safe to say that in my relationship with The Boss, I am allowed to have those expectations. He'll correct me if I'm wrong, I'm sure.

I do need to feel as if I have a voice, even if it doesn't change, or affect, his decision. I need to feel valued and being listened to helps with that. I know part of this is left over baggage from childhood but I think it's also normal human needs too. I'm sure there are perfectly mentally healthy people out there, with no history of abuse, that have similar needs.

It would be helpful to me if he would agree to allow me to ask for the opportunity to voice whatever I need to voice, in a respectful way of course. Obviously when and if he granted those requests would be up to him but I would hope that some of those requests would be granted. Otherwise the privilege wouldn't be of much use.

We haven't played either, not since he did some work on the cutting on my back in October. I sometimes wonder if this is lack of desire, lack of energy, or if it'sjust related to having too much emotional turmoil and stress these last few months.

It has been rough on both of us, with panic attacks and a little bit of depression. I think some of that is to be expected with the grieving process and I know that can take a year or better to complete but I'm impatient. I want to live fully again. I just don't know if I still desire SM. Mentally I do-I want the entire experience, the challenge of attempting to endure the pain he's giving, the tears & curses uttered, his wicked chuckles of delight, the sight of his erect cock dripping copious amounts of precum, the sex afterward with his hips grinding against my tender bottom, and the complete and total feeling of sateity of emotional and physical release.

What if I can't take the pain I once took? What if I can't serve or satisfy him in that way again? What if he's lost his desire to inflict pain or to live M/s? I worry that the grief will consume him, and maybe me, thus consuming our M/s life together.

I know some of my worries are redundant and likely needless. I have these same worries every time we have a lull in the M/s or SM. I'm just so happy with what we do have, when things are all meshing nicely. I feel complete as his slave, he really is the other half of me. Yin to my yang, Clyde to my Bonnie. *g*

I don't know if I could be as happy without the M/s or SM after having lived it. At one time I wondered if the lack of either would be a deal breaker for me. I'm pretty certain now that it wouldn't be. While I wouldn't be happy or content going vanilla, I would be devastated with the loss of my best friend and lover. Losing The Boss would be like removing a vital organ-he is my life, my reason for existance.

I know I am borrowing trouble and worrying needlessly. Stress and emotional upset has just, once again, pushed M/s and SM to the backseat for a while.

I'm going to work on my argumentativeness, perhaps that will bring the M/s to the forefront once again.

Daddy's Lil Girl

It was the first time in quite a while that Daddy and his lil girl got to play and we made the most of it. We'd been talking about it for weeks, rather I'd been asking him for some Daddy/lil girl time and he'd said "Yeah let's do it sometime." During the last conversation we had about it he told me some very specific things that he wanted to do and wear for that time. Well, as it would happen I ended up with a weekday off (yesterday) and made all the preparations so that I'd be ready if he was up for it.

When he got home yesterday evening he said he was too tired to do much of anything. I did my best to not let my disappointment show or ruin the evening. I've been needing Daddy/lil girl time and could probably use a lot more. When I think that it might be a possibility I tend to start slipping into lil girl space, it's hard to prevent it. Hello Kitty is my weakness, as are all things pink and "Princess", in lil girl space. Last week I had to stop at the store and pick up some stain remover. As I was walking past the dollar bins I noticed, yep you guessed it, Hello Kitty stuff. Hair clips, barrettes, pony ties, play jewelry sets, note pads, pens... I was in lil girl overload/heaven. I wanted everything! It was only a dollar each and a dollar isn't much, right? I got a package of pony ties (pink of course with Hello Kitty heads on two of them) and a package of clippy barrettes (also pink w/HK heads on two of them). It's funny just how happy that small $2 purchase made me. When I got home I laid them proudly on my side of the bed for Daddy to see.

Unfortunately he wasn't as thrilled about my purchase as I was, or as I'd thought he would be. I'd made a purchase without permission. *sigh* He wasn't angry but he wasn't happy either and it took a lot of the wind out of my sails. I felt about two inches tall and felt like I'd never have an occasion to wear my new HK hair stuff. Don't ask me how or why but it felt to me as if it wasn't the measely (to me) two dollars I'd spent without permission that he was upset about but the fact that I'd bought something for my inner kid. Sometimes I think he doesn't want or need to be my Daddy any more and when he got upset about the purchase it sort of cemented my perception, proved that I was "right" that he didn't want to be my Daddy and that he didn't want me to be his, or anyone's, lil girl.

Then, later last night he managed to get "in the mood" and sent me upstairs to do my hair and put on a little make-up. Yes, Daddy's lil girl gets to wear make-up like the big girls do; make-up and pigtails. After I was ready Daddy came upstairs and we had lots of fun together. He made me giggle, blush, sigh, whimper, and blush and giggle some more. I felt like a princess, basking in the warmth of Daddy's love and affection. It ended too soon for me though, it was getting late and we had some grown-up things to take care of before bed. So I had to "grow up" only I didn't really. I was still very open and vulnerable and in lil girl headspace when we went downstairs. He immediately made the phone call he needed to make while I entertained myself with a book. I tried to tune his conversation out, it didn't concern me. But soon it turned to a topic that makes me squirm and get uncomfortable in adult headspace, in lil girl headspace it throws me for a loop. I couldn't tune it out and I started to panic, a whimper slipped out before I could stop it and I covered it up by acting like I was just trying to get comfortable. I don't know why I did that, it doesn't make sense to me now, because I know if I'd let him know it was bothering me he'd have changed the topic, moved to another room, or even have sent me on up to bed to read.

Part of me wished he'd noticed, the part that still needed her Daddy's attention, but the adult part of me didn't want to disturb his conversation and didn't want to make demands on his time. He's been so stressed out and upset, I don't want to add to it. Everyone has a breaking point and I don't want my personal drama to push him to his. My discomfort is an old story, and old wound, and in adult headspace I know how to take care of myself. I'm fine but I'm still feeling somewhat lil. If I think about it I guess I always have a hard time "growing up", it always feels abrupt to me when it's time to do so. I suppose it would be similar to being pulled out of the floaty "sub space" I've seen some write about before you're ready to come out of it.

It just takes time. During this time I do things to take care of myself. I watch "kid" movies, I have my favorite toys close to hand, yet I continue on with and move into more adult thinking and activities. I don't fight the transition between the two, I just do things that will smooth the way. My lil headspace isn't something I can put on and take off at will, I do have to transition into and out of it, this takes time. I suppose that's why it feels so jarring, I'm expecting to be able to do it quickly and I'm still surprised when I can't. I'm hoping Master will read this because I'm not sure he understands that. Last night I felt like he expected me to go from lil girl headspace to adult headspace like you'd flip a switch. One minute lil girl the next minute adult. I don't know if that's what he does but it sure seems like it. When he's got other things to do the Daddy part of him just disappears and I wonder if I imagined it all because it happens so fast. It's very frustrating and sometimes upsetting when i'm still in lil girl space and he's tucked his Daddy space away. It feels as if there's an almost physical barrier that's been erected between us, or a door locked against me. When he's in Daddy space he's so kind and soft and loving, he's open. When he's not in Daddy space, he's still loving and kind, but it's somewhat reserved and he's no longer soft or open. I wish I could explain it better, if I could maybe I could make sense of it and find a way to make it easier to adjust. As it is, I have a hard time understanding. All I know is that my Daddy isn't there anymore and I can't relate (in lil girl space) to the person whose come in his place.

I think I'm going to shelve this for now and will revisit it later. I need to think about it some more.

Long Time No Type

We had such a good day today, with a surprise drop-in from Master, he was supposed to work until 7 this evening but he decided to take off early. The girls and I had planned to put the tree up and decorate it today and since he was home early, before we'd even begun, he sprawled on the couch and watched us. It was good, having him there, sharing that moment with him and with the girls. I had my Christmas CDs playing and I sang along with the tunes as we decorated the tree, every now and then I'd glance over at him and we'd share a smile. We're both moving through our grief, sometimes getting mired in it but still trying to move forward. Hopefully the good days will outnumber the bad days soon.

Most of the time I'm okay but sadness sneaks up on me like the tide rolling in, it comes in, sweeps over me, and ebbs again, leaving me drenched in it. Just as I get dried off it comes again, and again. I can't watch my once favorite TV shows anymore, forensic crime shows I loved but after living it, they're just triggers of things better left unthought.

Sometimes I think I might be depressed but I'm not ready yet to accept that as a viable truth. Mostly I'm just grieving in bits and pieces, when I'm alone. It seems to be my way.

I wanted catharsis but I wasn't able to get it so it all seems to stay locked inside me except for the little leaks, I'm not sure how to let it out now. It's not societally acceptable to break out in tears whenever the urge comes on you know. So I bite them back, breathe deeply, and force my thoughts in a different direction when I'm able. Sometimes I can almost convince myself that it was just a bad dream, not real. Then I remember, I remember how he died, the violence of it, I picture the scene as it must have been, then I flash on him in his casket, Master patting his chest, soothing, consoling, trying to convince himself of the reality of it. It aches and no medication in the world can ease it. It's a wound that has to heal on its own, in its own time. I just wish I could get rid of the mental pictures, unknow the things I know.

I got the job I interviewed for the day his brother was found. It seems strange to me, to have this positive thing happen at the same time as this horrible thing. Once the initial excitement of being offered the job wore off I started having a hard time feeling happy about having a new job. I'm not looking forward to learning something new, I'm looking forward to making more money and having better benefits. It doesn't much matter right now what I do for a living, I'm not really there, I'm not really involved. So, in two weeks I start a new job, another ending and another beginning. Life is filled with them and it seems to me that the beginnings will always be somewhat darkened by the endings and maybe that's how it should be. It makes one more mindful that in order for one thing to begin another must end. The old makes way for the new, but one should never forget the old, the old paved the way, helped to shape the future you.

I don't know what the future holds, I'm almost scared to find out. Call me cautious, experience has made me so. I know I've done good though, in getting the new job. I've eased Master's stress in securing a job that can support me and our youngest child should something happen to him. So, if nothing else, that is a bright spot. Once I start earning money at the new job I will ease more of his stress; another bright spot. I'm trying to skip from bright spot to bright spot, focusing on them instead of the sadness that lurks in the corner.

When I let myself I do feel somewhat proud of myself, this is my first "grown-up" job. It's the first job I'll have had that pays enough, with excellent benefits, to allow me to be independent should I need to be. I don't quite know how I feel about that. I know I'm awfully old to be having this experience but I did things a little backwards, having a family first and being a stay-at-home mom. Now I'm venturing out beyond a part-time job just to supplement Master's income. Instead I'm going to be a sizeable contributor to the household income in my own right. I've never been financially independent, ever.

So yeah, lots of changes to cope with. Not so happy with some of them but kicking and screaming doesn't seem to be changing anything so I just hang on and go along for the ride.

Devastating

You know, over the past year I've gotten some heart rending calls at work from widowers and widows calling to let us know their husband or wife has died so we'll stop sending mail in their name. One customer sticks with me to this day. It was an older gentleman, his wife had recently died and as is typical at the end of a call I asked him if there was anything else I could help him with. "Tell me how to mend a broken family" he said. My voice caught as emotions clogged my throat. My only response was "I wish I could Sir, I wish I could." I went on to tell him to take care and try to have a good evening and ended the call. I had to sit there for a few moments afterwards breathing, trying to stop the tears that threatened to pour out if given half the chance.

How do you mend a broken family? How do you heal after such devastation as we've had this past week? How are you supposed to feel when a loved one is murdered? Anger would be the easiest thing to feel but I don't, neither does Master. I think we're still in shock, still trying to make sense of it, and still trying to accept that this is real and not a bad dream. Right now it just feels like he's not there, you know, somewhere else but still alive. There were many family gatherings that he didn't attend for one reason or the other. There was the semester he spent studying in Italy, and that's how it feels right now; like he's just traveling somewhere to return at a later date. Tomorrow night will be the worst, tomorrow night the surreal will become real. We'll have the private family viewing and then it will hit us all that he's gone, he's not coming back, it really did happen. Until then we're all trying to hold on as best we can. Many of us are well-medicated due to panic and anxiety attacks, including yours truly.

I thought I was doing well, I thought I had a handle on it. But when I'm alone or when we're with the family the panic hits and I just want to run. Run to where, I don't know, I just need to run away. Away from all this grief, away from the mental images I have of him lying there alone, dying. Just away. Sometimes ignorance would be bliss, it'd be orgasmic. I hate having the medical and forensic knowledge I have right now, I hate knowing exactly why we have to have a closed casket funeral for the public. I guess I've found my anger, I hate the necessity of it. WHY did he have to shoot him there? WHY!? Why did he have to shoot him at all?! It's not fair. It's not right. It's just such a waste of life, a waste of a life, both lives.

I guess you never realize what a gift life really is until you're faced with such a loss. Lady protect us, Lady guide us, hold us in your arms and comfort us. Gods know I'm trying to see the lesson in all of this, the reason. I have my moments of clarity, when I can see the good he's done, he's brought us all together, he's reunited estranged family members, he's facilitated healing. We're going to honor that gift by continuing that healing and staying united with the family.

Still, it hurts and my hurt is nothing in comparison to Master's. He's lost his little brother, his youngest brother, and he's watching his mother die just a little bit. Each child a mother holds dear but the youngest is her heart. I put myself in her shoes and I know I'd die if any of my children were taken from me but doubly so if I lost my youngest. I can't even contemplate it without crying so I shy away from it.

Later, when I'm ready, I'm going to post a tribute to Master's youngest brother, a memorial of my own. In my own way I will honor him and celebrate his life. I cannot speak as Master has been able to, my emotions choke me and I can't get the words out. But I can write so that is what I will do.

I thank each and every one of you for your kind words and support, it means the world to me and to Master. I share everything that is sent to me with him and he asks me to pass along his thanks with my own.

On Hiatus

Due to unimaginable circumstances I'm taking a short break from blogging publicly. The things I have to write about right now are too private, too raw, to share just yet. I don't know if I will ever share here, that will be up to Master as it's more his loss than mine.

Life is a gift, celebrate it, enjoy it, and don't put anything off until tomorrow. Tomorrow never comes.

Are You Sure That's Mine?

That's the thought that runs through my head every time I look at that picture of my butt that I posted a while back. It just doesn't look like the butt I've lived with for the last umpteen years. Whose butt is that? It's my new butt I guess you could say. Yeah, yeah, it sounds silly but it's true.

I'm uncovering a new body with every pound I lose. I look in the mirror every day trying to see the real me and not the distorted image I have of myself. I think I've seen the huge me for so long that I still expect to see her in the mirror. Not that I'm skinny, but I haven't been this "thin" for oh, 12-13 years. It's true, I am losing weight and I've lost quite a good chunk since May.

This distorted image issue is nothing new for me. When I weighed 128 lbs at the age of 15 I saw a fat girl in the mirror and even tried replacing a meal or two with water for an entire summer in the hopes of losing weight. While believing I was fat, I also lived in dread of getting fat. I was very ignorant then and lazy too. I realize now that I was nowhere near being fat then but the distorted image hasn't gone away and I'm not sure it ever will. I've just made peace with it and I accept it as a fact of my life. I have two men in my life who love me for who I am and who lust after me just the way I am right now. What's more, they lusted after me when I was about 50 pounds heavier. Their love, lust, and acceptance has helped me learn to accept and love myself.

But, every extra pound I carry is more stress for my back and every pound lost reduces that stress. I want to be able to serve Master to the best of my ability for many, many, many years to come. If I continued on as I was, or gained more weight, my ability to serve would have been greatly diminished. These are my motivators. My inspiration would be the ladies at Submissives Taking It Off, I can't say enough good things about these folks, they're just great.

Almost daily I look to Master for reassurance that I really do look thinner. It's not that I'm compliment-fishing, although it feels good to be complimented, I need to be reassured that I'm not dreaming, that it's real, that I really am losing weight and not just imagining the changes. It goes back to that whole distorted image thing; sometimes when I look down at myself I don't see a smaller belly, it looks like the same belly I've been looking down at for years and I don't notice that I no longer have to bend over to see my feet. I sort of borrow his eyes at those times, they see a little more clearly than mine.

I had a strange thought yesterday. I wondered if my losing weight will affect the way Master and I play(SM). Obviously I'll have less padding than I did, which I guess could translate into less protection. Will some things hurt more now than they did when I was heavier? I'm starting to think my weight will have less of an influence on our SM play than my back issues will/do.

Master took me to buy a new pair of jeans that actually fit. He doesn't see me in street clothes very often, when I get home from work I head upstairs to change into my house clothes and on the weekends we're busy so I guess he just doesn't notice. This past weekend, he did notice. He thought the jeans I was wearing were dirty because they were so baggy. Sorry Sir, not dirty, just too big. *smiles*

So that's where I'm at today. Actually I've been writing this entry for a while now and debated as to whether or not I'd post it. We're co-hosting a lifestyle wedding reception this weekend with the Tribe for two members of the Tribe, m'Lady and her new husband. I'm looking forward to being able to dress up and wear actual fetish clothes, I've got a pair of "leather" pants that were given to me that I plan to wear along with a corset top I have. I think the combination will be sexy as heck. Maybe Master will get a picture of me all dolled up. *hint, hint to Master*

The Power of Words

I've been musing about the power of words, as I often do. Last night Master and I made a trip to the store to pick up a couple of odds and ends and a new (smaller) pair of jeans for me. While we were in the checkout lane he asked me a question, I don't remember what he asked me, what I remember is my response. I responded very quickly and without thought "Yes Sir." It's not a common thing for me to do, usually it's "Yes Dear" or "Yes Boss". As soon as I realized what I'd said, within hearing of the checker, I felt self-conscious but I also felt a little shiver of pleasure at addressing him like that in public. I'm silly I guess.

I'm just very new to the whole honorifics thing. I've done it when prompted but I have always felt self-conscious, the words felt like an affectation to me. It's only been recently that I've felt driven to use words like 'Sir'. It felt natural last night, I only felt self-conscious because of the checker standing about two feet in front of me. It didn't feel like an affectation, it was a normal response to a question from my Master. It makes me feel very submissive using those words. Yet, when I "sir" and "ma'am" customers at work it doesn't. There is no submission just courtesy and politeness. With Master there is feeling behind a "yes Sir", there is deep respect, and profound love and adoration. I wonder if there is an audible difference between the two instances.

Master has never required honorifics from me and I'm happy that I got to come to it on my own. I wonder if the words would have felt as powerful to me if I were required to say them vs. feeling inspired to do so. I wonder a lot, we know this. It comes from spending a lot of time alone in my head with my own thoughts. ;-)

I watch and listen to others who use honorifics as a matter of course, some say it with feeling, some don't. I wonder what the point of using an honorific is if you don't have some feeling behind it. Is it to boost someone else's ego? If it's done to reinforce one's position I would think there would be feeling behind it even if you didn't feel particularly submissive to the person you were Sir'ing or Ma'am'ing. I don't know, I'm probably off base here and I don't have personal experience to draw from. I'm just theorizing and pondering things I've observed.

Laziness And Frustration

I've been frustrated now for a while. Master got lazy, he relaxed his control to the point that it felt non-existent. He let infractions of the rules slide with nothing more than a playful warning of punishment the next time it happened. I understand no one likes to dole out punishment, it's not fun, it's disappointing to have to do, and I'm guessing it's upsetting too. Still, I need that discipline, that correction, and the structure. I need to know that rules will be enforced and that his expectations of me aren't going to change.

Along with relaxed rules has come a lack of play. That's always a recurring theme for us, either he's exhausted and just wants to relax, or we don't have alone time so we don't have to worry about keeping it quiet (this is almost never, we never have alone time), or when we go visit our friends with the intention to play all we do is sit and chat all night. I'm not complaining, not really. I love just sitting and chatting with our friends, I love the companionship we all share. But dang it, I need to play too! I need semi-regular SM play. I need him to be interested in doing it with me.

I don't blame him, not really. I understand why he's been lax with the rules and why he's been exhausted. His job is stressful and demanding, he's constantly in charge and on top at work. He's the go-to guy who solves a lot of problems. It's understandable that when he gets home the last thing he wants to do is be the boss of anyone. On top of all that, he's working six days a week right now covering for another guy who was injured. So no, I'm not blaming him, I'm not angry with him over any of this. I'm just frustrated by it all.

We have talked about this, I sort of blew up last week and sent him a very strongly-worded e-mail after his teasing me all night with promises of play that night, he decided he was too tired and went to sleep. Then I was angry. I was indignant, self-centered, and in general a royal b*tch. I'm ashamed to admit that I deliberately bratted in hopes of getting some sort of rise out of him. It didn't work, and sadly enough I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I believe that I deserve(d) punishment for the way I behaved and for the e-mail I sent, it was disrespectful and downright rude. Yet, he chose to not punish me. He agreed with me that he's been slacking in his responsibilities and felt that I had the right to "call him on the carpet" over it, although he didn't care for the way I went about it. I still wish he'd have punished me but I'm not questioning his decision.

I just want my Master back, I need the man who expected certain behavior from me. I need the man who wouldn't hesitate to punish me or at the very least, chastise me for my ill behavior. Is that selfish? I suppose it is. It's hard to be half of a whole when the other half seems to be partially missing. For quite a while I'd felt as if I was being treated like a vanilla wife with a few rare kinky sprinkles. This, I guess, is a pitfall one has to be wary of if one goes into M/s after having started out and spent a good part of life as a married couple.

Still, the other day's activity with the enema seemed to help get my head right. It was such a deeply submissive act for me and I've felt worshipful of him ever since. It's funny how that happens. I wonder if it did anything similar for him. Did it make him feel more Masterful to have me submit to him like that?

We're going to make a concerted effort to keep the M/s active. He's resumed our bathroom ritual and I've been nearly beside myself with happiness over being allowed to cook many of the week's meals for him. I enjoyed it so much that I asked him if I could do it again for the coming week and he agreed. At least I'm able to serve and I'm looking for new ways to improve that service. Still, the masochist in me is frustrated. I'd be grateful for a short over the knee spanking. I'd love being pulled down over his lap and given a few short swats and then sent on my way. It would at least be something. It would indicate that he still enjoys SM play with me. Yes, I'm a silly girl sometimes, I need to know my man still enjoys certain things with me.

I got into a situation with my Sir, who isn't much of a sadist at all, where he was giving me SM play because I wanted/needed it, not because he got any actual enjoyment from it. It quickly lost its appeal when I realized he was doing it for me. It started feeling like he was serving me and it affected my submission to him. Yes, couples do things for each other because they want to. But if you're always doing something for someone else because they like it when you dislike it, that's too much like service for me to be comfortable with. Call me silly, I don't care, it's how I feel. *shrug*

So, I'm a frustrated masochist but a happy servant. I'm thankful that he's taken up the slack in the leash and that he's allowing and expecting more service from me. I just wish we could make some time for SM play.

"Vanilla" D/s Moments

There's been a lot going on this week with Master being ill and me having a bit of trouble myself. But something happened to make the ordinary extraordinary.

Master and I were in the grocery store, he wanted to leave but I wanted to take one more look for an item I hadn't yet found. It was in this looking that we were stopped by an older gentleman who looked for all the world like a farmer in his denim bib overalls and big baggy coat. Actually, it was Master he stopped with a polite "Excuse me." He looked at Master and pointed to me and said "Her shirt says 'Bad Girl', is she a bad girl?" Master chuckled and said "Oh yeah, she's definitely a 'Bad Girl', very bad." I blushed and got this silly grin that stayed plastered to my face for quite some time. I couldn't quit grinning, I enjoyed the entire exchange. I'm sure everyone will interpret things differently but it made me feel very submissive, very much like property, and even a bit childlike. The man talked about me instead of to me. Master also talked about me instead of to me. Of course after we'd all gone our separate ways I looked at Master and said "I may be a bad girl but I'm very good at it." I giggled afterwards as he agreed with me. He likes his bad girl.

I shared this experience with some close friends and one of them responded, pointing out that you just never know how much some people really do know. You also never know just what some people might do behind closed doors. Master suggested the possibility that the gentleman is a farmer but has a full dungeon on his farm. If that was the case then I wonder, do we give off a vibe that indicates our relational roles? Or are we just that obvious? I'm going to have to try to pay attention to how we act in the grocery store and to the people around us. If they're staring then I guess we're being obvious.

Another One Bites The Dust

Master stayed home sick today, as did I. I was having some IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) troubles and needed to stay home and alleviate a certain problem. This alleviation is done by way of a warm water enema and up until today they've been self-administered.

Today Master decided that he was going to bulldoze his way through yet another limit of mine. I've constantly held firm that there was no way I'd let him administer an enema for me, it's always seemed too close to scat play for me. Until today he'd respected my feelings on the matter. Ordinarily it's not been an issue for him, he knows that enemas can make me physically ill but thanks to IBS and the addition of yet another pain med, I need them every now and again. Oddly enough, at these times the enema doesn't make me ill. Go figure. I guess today was the perfect opportunity and one he wasn't going to let pass him by.

I didn't believe he really wanted to do it at first. I thought he was just putting me on just to enjoy the my discomforted reaction. No such luck. I asked him "Are you really serious about doing this?" I wasn't a very happy camper and I even accused him of taking advantage of the situation. Duh! Sadist! I can't claim to have been thinking clearly. I was flustered and uncomfortable with what was about to happen. It just seemed so humiliating to have him administer an enema, but I needed it and I didn't think he'd have let me off the hook if I whined. So, without any complaints I went into the bathroom and knelt on the floor while he prepared the applicator. He used plenty of lubrication on my bottom and on the applicator so as to make insertion easier. I was thankful that he at least refrained from making any sort of teasing comments while the hot water bottle emptied its contents into my bowels.

Strangely enough, once I'd gotten past the whole "Oh gawd I'm so humiliated" I didn't feel humiliated. Instead I felt... come on you know what I'm going to say....very submissive. My Master was taking care of me and doing something that would ultimately make me feel better. Thinking back on it now I wish he would have stroked my bottom and my back during the process. It would have felt soothing and comforting. Somehow I think there will be a next time so perhaps he'll consider my wish to be a request.

I don't know if he expected it, but taking that control from me and actually administering an enema turned him on. He enjoyed it quite a bit and was sure to show me the evidence of his pleasure while I curled up on the bed waiting afterwards. It was a little while later, perhaps a half an hour, when I realized how much it had affected me. I was aroused, and not just a little aroused either. I was very aroused and very wet.

A year ago I'd have rather died than submit to an enema administered by anyone but a medical professional, and even then I'd probably have suggested to them that I could manage on my own. It's just interesting, he seems to know the right time to push the envelope of experience with me. He's been teasing me for quite some time, a few years at least, about giving me an enema but has never pushed the issue. Perhaps he's been gauging my responses? I don't know. I've never deviated from my standard response that I'm aware of. Maybe he's seen the same thing our dominant friend has been remarking on, the higher visibility of my "slave side".

I'm really pleased with the experience all in all and I'm really thankful he allowed me the privacy to "finish" alone. Now that would have been difficult to bear. I'm sorry that Master was home sick but at the same time, it afforded us an opportunity that we might not have had otherwise so I can't be too sorry. *smiles*

A Slave's Purpose

Last night Master and I were out with part of the Tribe. They're M/s like Master and I and he's the one that Master is plotting a slave switch day with. Knowing both of them as I do it wouldn't surprise me in the least if the whole thing was a mindf*ck. They're really taking a lot of delight in making us girls nervous about what they're planning. Of course, they could also want us to believe it's just a mindf*ck when it's really going to happen. They're very devious and think the mind is a great playground. Yep, I'm onto you guys and I know anything is possible.

Anyway, he was talking about how he feels a slave's primary thought should always be "How can I please my Master today?" In an ideal world yeah, I agree. Unfortunately we're not in an ideal world and I didn't check my humanity at the door when I accepted Master's collar. My goal is always to find ways to please my Master, to make his life easier. I'd say, and I hope Master will correct me if he disagrees, that I accomplish that on most days. But there are things I will struggle with, I'm human. There are things I may not be capable of doing, either because my body is unable to comply, or because my mind is incapable of moving past baggage or trauma.

If we run into those kinds of road blocks does that make me less pleasing? Does it make me a failure as a slave or less a slave than one who doesn't have those road blocks? I don't think so. I think that if I'm trying, if I'm making an honest effort and just cannot accomplish the task, it should be accepted as the effort it is instead of treated as a failure. This is different than a refusal to comply and no, a refusal to comply should not be accepted.

I'd be crushed if Master treated me like I'd failed him as a slave for being unable to do something. (I think I've said this before) Eventually, if he kept acting as if I'd failed, it would wear down my self-esteem. I do base some of my self-worth on what he thinks of me. I don't care if it's healthy, or co-dependent, it's just what I do. My Master's opinion of me is extremely important to me. He is the only person that has been allowed that close to me and he could destroy me with one word. Yes, I've given him that much power, I trust him that much.

Another question comes to mind for me. If a slave's primary thought should be how to please her Master, what should his primary thought be?

At one point in the conversation he (our dominant friend) asked me "What do you think of petticoats?" The first thing that popped into my head was "It sounds complicated." After further reflection I can say more fully that in fantasy it sounds very fun, in reality it would feel strange. It's not my style to dress up that girly even if I do love the more romantic type fashions. So I'd feel uncomfortable and as if I were wearing a costume. Now, my ideal "fantasy" costume would be a kimono. To me, they are utterly feminine and so delicate, yet, not girly. If that makes any sense. Heh!

I understand the motivation behind wanting to dress me up in petticoats, etc. It would be so vastly different from the way I normally dress, even when I'm dressed up. It would make me extremely uncomfortable and would probably throw me off my game a bit because I'd be preoccupied with the clothing and my discomfort in it. However, I'm already going to be off my game. I've never served another, not really. I'm trained in a specific way, if there is something Master requests that I find distasteful, he likes to see it in my expression. I don't know how to keep my emotions and thoughts from showing on my face and in my eyes. This is what makes me a terrible liar, by the way.

And what this has to do with a slave's purpose... well, it would please my Master to see me serve another so I have been spending a lot of time thinking about it and trying to sort out how I could do it successfully. He likes that I'm struggling with the entire concept of being given in service to another and he likes that I would struggle with not being able to serve him directly. I don't know how I will adapt to a dominant style that is so different from the one I'm accustomed to. I do recognize the merits of this type of switch, I imagine I'd learn quite a bit from the experience.

I know I've rambled and not really made a lot of sense but I needed to get it out of my head and in print so I can sort it all out. I just think that saying a slave's primary thought should be how to please her Master is rather limited. I think it goes without saying that if one is a consensual slave one already has that desire, that need, to serve and please one's owner. We're already looking for ways to please our owners, it's just that sometimes the things owners want are beyond our capabilities. Sometimes it's only a matter of getting one's head around the situation in order to be able to comply. Sometimes it's simply something we cannot do despite our best efforts, if that is the case it is unfair to treat it as a failure. Would you, as a dominant want to be thought of as a failure because there was some domly type of activity that you were unable to do or that you struggled with? I think not.