Flipside

I have no problem with accepting the fact that I want my husband to slap me across the face, spank me, choke me a bit and otherwise use me thoroughly. Being taken care of is an entirely different story.

I’m coming down with one of those colds that’s just enough to make you feel like shit but not enough that you can justify staying in bed.  Sunday I was feeling miserable and for the first time actually allowed myself to be taken care of.  He told me to go back to bed in the morning, to take a nap in the afternoon, and to go to bed early that night.  I actually laid next to him on the couch so he could stroke my hair and whisper, “I love you, pet,” to me several times that day.  By the time the kids were in bed, I was a bit shaken because while I’ve always wanted this, I’ve never actually gotten it.  The new dynamic allows me to lower those walls of control and finally ask for what I want and need, not what I think others will deem acceptable.  So it’s freeing and scary at the same time.

The way our dynamic is unfolding feels like a natural extension of our marriage; the groundwork has been here the whole time but we’ve always avoided it because that’s not the way it’s supposed to be.  I would think that I’d be reluctant to hand over this level of control over my daily life to him, but it’s something we’ve both wanted for years.  It feels completely natural now to receive a list of chores in the morning or to ask him if I can use the computer or smoke a cigarette.  The flip side is that I can be more affectionate with him, something I’ve always wanted but have never been sure how to ask for it.  I can pout because circumstances are preventing us from playing that night and he can see just how much I desire him.  I can finally let go of my public face with him.

I am so happy to call him Master and I feel so lucky to be his girl.

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Ruminations

I was just reading Perverted Imp’s latest post and it creates a feeling of longing and fear in me.  As my husband and I progress, I am feeling the draw of complete submission and the fear of letting go that comes with it.  I’ve seen a few of what I thought were at least firm if not hard limits fall by the wayside in the past few weeks.  Objectification was a big one, and we were both ready to push that and cross it about the same time.  That’s been a common thread, when I have asked for something new, something that had previously been off-limits, we have talked afterwards about the feeling of rightness we both had.

Another hard limit was face slapping, and trust me when I say that I wanted nothing to do with that.  Spanking and biting I love and had no trouble processing.  Face slapping carries a LOT of baggage with it and not a little of it is triggering for me – not so much the actual action of slapping someone, but the fact that I parse it as an action filled with anger and contempt.  These are emotions that I have to keep very far away from anything we do as play.  Connecting those emotions to spanking and face slapping changes them from play to abuse for me.  Last night when we started fooling around, I had to ask him to not be quite as stern in his orders.  I want to submit to his control, but if I perceive his control being exercised using anger and humiliation it’s not play – it’s me as a child trying to not get hurt.

Last night was a tough one because not only did I have to ask for him to not be stern with me, I also climaxed without permission.  This morning I’m still a little upset about it, last night in the moment I was a few steps away from being devastated.  Right now I’m wondering if I’m cut out for this.  We have to tread such a careful path lest I become a ball of childhood PTSD and I wonder if it’s too much to ask of him.

I need to step away and call him.  This is the drop speaking and as hard as it is I need to cross my arms over my chest and let myself fall back into his waiting arms.

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Strike that, reverse it

If anything, this experience is telling me that I still have a lot to learn.

We recently made the transition from pretty much flirting with being 24/7 to actually doing it.  I’m not saying that we didn’t have a dynamic outside of the bedroom, because there definitely was – but it was a bit more on the role playing side of things.  Lots of stolen touches or looks, words mouthed across the room, playing with formal speech.  All of this was fun, but it was definitely starting to feel unsatisfying.

We had a series of discussion over the weekend which boiled down to the fact that we both over think things way too much.  We both worried a lot about  how the other would react to a thing, have that thing happen and afterwards confess that we both really wanted it.  In light of this and the fact that we’ve been married for 10 years, I told him to just do it.  If a line gets crossed, we’ll deal with it.  We’ll find the edges together and keep the onus of communication on both of us.

He now has much more control over my daily life.  Every evening, we go over a list of chores/tasks that he’d like to see me do the following day.  I text him as I do each one.  I call him Master in our text conversations and when I am able to throughout the day to keep him in the right mind set.  I ask for permission to do things like use the computer.  I now wear my collar every evening after we get the kids to bed and sleep in it as well.  We haven’t come upon an issue that would require punishment, but it will most likely take the form of a logical consequence/removal of some privilege.  At this point, causing disappointment is deterrent enough.

The thing is that this is a very natural progression for us – almost eerily natural.  Over the weekend we were talking about taking more control of my day and I used the phrase, “but I don’t want to make you my parent.”  I thought about it for a bit and realized just how long I’ve been saying that particular phrase in regards to his efforts to help me manage my time and in the face of our current dynamic how absurd the notion is.  Seriously, I remember saying a version of the phrase back when we were first married and I was out of work for a period.  The phrase was used to keep our distance from each other because it seemed an unhealthy dynamic to add to our relationship.  So the basis for this has been in existence for years.

Giving him the control over my day like that and giving up the bedroom control is incredibly freeing.  I was obsessing over something on Friday and asked him to restrict my computer use because of it.  When he told me that he wanted me to stay off until the evening when we would both be together, a huge sense of relief washed over me.  The other big advantage of letting go of the little things like this is that I have more mental energy available to me to make the decisions I have to make in taking care of the kids and running the house.  Knowing that after the kids are in bed and I’m his to control makes wrestling with our finances or dealing with the myriad of appointments for our kids a lot more bearable.

There’s more to blabber about, but life calls and I must get moving.

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Struggles

No, it’s not the sexy kind of struggle, but the gut wrenching kind.

My daily task from my husband/Master is to tell him what I need.  For someone who has spent her whole life focusing on taking care of others, this is a herculean task.  First, I need to overcome all of that conditioning – both the life conditioning and the “what BDSM is supposed to be” conditioning.  When I am finally able to blurt it out, I am wracked with guilt that I am being a bother or filled with panic that I am asking for too much and he will consequently leave me.  After I’ve calmed down a bit, he’ll hug me, give me a smile and say something like, “but this is what I want, pet.  I want to know what my girl needs.”

The past week has been especially hard for me in this regard because of some realizations I had last week.  I was able to finally connect the dots and see a picture that at first flooded me with relief that this wasn’t my fault and then fill me with horror that this has been and still is going on.  There is much that can be forgiven with the sentiments They did the best they could with what they had and When you know better you do better, but neither of those sentiments can even come close to erasing the years of emotional abuse, and yes I can now call it for what it is.

I have been very fragile, the kind of fragile that leaps to absurd conclusions at the slightest prompting.  My husband is not as enthusiastic as he usually is over the meal I prepared means that he detests my cooking and is going to take the kids and find a non-crazy wife who is a better cook (when I shared this with him he assures me that if he were to leave, by no means would he be taking the children with him ;)).  Telling him what I need is almost impossible for me right now.  We both got a lot of enjoyment out of exploring objectification last week, but I’m feeling more of a need to be cherished and taken care of right now.  I have told him this and he, as always, is very happy to know just what I need.  It’s just hard for me to shake the notion that someone not only wants to know what I need, but wants to do it too.

So I have not made up my mind yet, if I want to lie next to him on the couch with a blindfold and ear plugs in while he hugs and pets me or if I want to sit at his feet in the beanbag chair and knit so I can lean my head against him.  Logically, I know this is equitable.  I take care of him in a million little ways every day, it’s only natural that he should want to do the same for me.  Sometimes I feel like there should be a BDSM version of Stuart Smalley.

I’m good enough,

I’m smart enough,

and dog-gone it, people want to tie me up and spank me.

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Kid in a candy store

The summer after I turned 13 was the first time I actually said the big swear words out loud rather than spelling them (yeah, I was that kid).  Out with my girlfriends, fuck was the all-purpose word and was added to pretty much every sentence that came out of my mouth the entire summer.  Every pause was punctuated with fuck, so naturally it showed up in the most inane places.  Right now I’m feeling about the same with BDSM.

Since we’ve hit a revival that includes lots of new and shiny things, we have been reveling in all things BDSM.  When we are alone, we fall into the stylized language that includes lots of Master’s and profuse thanks for the smallest of things.  Hearing him call me pet or his girl is incredibly arousing and makes me feel almost absurdly happy.  We even went so far as to change our Fet statuses to reflect our new dynamic.  When I hit submit on the box that changed my status from Collared by to Owned and Collared by I almost came right then and there – those words held that much power.  The same thing happened when I asked to add Slave of.

The Master’s and the pet’s are  not only fun because of their newness, but one slipped into regular conversation changes the tone to reflect the new levels of openness and trust we’ve created.  To get that extra little shiver when he slips in a half-whispered my girl to what he’s saying, or my mouthing Master from across the room reinforce our little secret.

Thankfully, my husband feels similarly and while it can be really hot to do, he’s just as happy to stick to our old standbys when we are just relaxing together.  There is a temptation to do this all the time, but frankly I would find it not only tedious after a while but nerve wracking as well – having to always be on like that would be exhausting and I’d be constantly worried about slipping up.

So yeah, I want to play with all our new shiny things, but at the same time I don’t want to have to go through every blog post making sure I always refer to him as Him or Master, or to be worried that I’m going to be taken to task for it.  It’s probably just as well that he’s sick today, we need an enforced night off.  Even though we know it’s needed those shiny things literally beg to be played with no matter how tired you might be.  It’ll be nice to just be husband and wife again for a night.  Our shiny playthings will still be there tomorrow.

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Changes

I’m reading over some of the first posts I made and am marveling at how many things I have completely reversed on.

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A very happy girl indeed – HNT!

My Master has been wanting me to participate in this ever since he first found out about it, but we have never made the effort to do so. This past Saturday night was the first time we played in months. We found we had grown beyond our original ideas of our D/s relationship and reveled in exploring, a very heady experience indeed. After the scene was over, I felt like I wanted one more orgasm, so I asked Master if I might use the magic wand to give myself one. He said yes and after I came, I just laid in a heap on the floor, too spent to even move.

A very, very happy girl.

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Identifying my unease

There are many reasons for the sense of unease that floods in once the euphoria of handing over another level of control or exploring something new has worn off. I am very sensitive to mood shifts, so a high automatically comes with a corresponding low. We can usually plan ahead for these and do what we can to mitigate it. Other times it’s due to the childhood mindfucks I received, and all I can do is let go and let my Master catch me. Last night, we were able to articulate the last source of unease.

When we started this journey six months ago, it was under my suggestion. My husband is the best Master I could ever ask for, but it is not a role that comes naturally to him and he’s fighting a tremendous amount of societal conditioning to be the Master I need and he wants to be. We move very slowly, especially since he crossed a line which was actually harder on him than it was on me. As a consequence, each new step into BDSM requires me topping from the bottom.

I am a sub who is rapidly realizing that she is more slave than anything. Directing my Master to do things to me or to speak to me in a specific way is unsettling. We can kind of ignore the fact that I’m pulling the strings by phrasing things in a certain way, but we both know what’s really happening. This does cause a bit of distress for me and makes me question if I’m pushing him into things; that he is dominating me because it’s what I want/need, not because it matches up with his own desires. Nothing could be further from the truth – each new level of play awakens more desires in my Master and once he finds where the edges are he comes into his own (does he ever come into his own *swoon*).

Many times we are thinking the same thing but I’m reluctant to say/ask for it being in sub-mode and he’s reluctant for fear of crossing a line. He was fucking my throat the other night and while I was happily being choked by his cock in my mouth, all I could think about was being his cum bucket (a sentiment the me of six months ago would have cringed at in disgust). I wanted to hear him call me that as he was praising me for the throat fucking. To hear my Master croon, “Are you so greedy for my cock, little girl? Do you want to be my cum bucket so badly?” as he caressed my cheek would have pushed me over the edge with delight. Even now I’m shivering just thinking about it. With some difficulty, I told him of this desire last night and he confessed that he wanted to do it in the moment as well but was afraid of crossing a line.

We are in the process of remapping my limits. In the beginning, I wanted no part in being objectified. Now, I practically beg him to call me his fuck toy, his pet. Begging was something I was sort of meh about – now I feel like its the hottest thing he can require of me. Orgasm denial? Never in a million years. Now I’m into my second day and am loving every minute of it. Being choked by his cock and cum? He cannot use me in the fashion enough – the joy and pride I feel at making him cum like this is incredible.

I’m thinking that it shouldn’t be too long before I can retreat back to the fuck toy I so long to be and he can just be my Master. I am a lucky girl, indeed.

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Feeling safe

I’ve had yet another one of those wonderful epiphanies that makes me realize just how much of a miracle it is that I managed to become a functional adult. Aside from all of the support from my husband and friends, I’ve been able to find a tremendous amount of safety in the wearing of my collar.

When I first started this journey I really wanted nothing to do with a collar. I didn’t like what I felt it represented and it was something I never dreamed would enter into our relationship. Then I decided to give the collar a try, but with very hard and fast rules for its use. The collar got very little use over the late fall and winter months because I just wasn’t in a place where I felt I could wear it. We had so little time to connect and I felt the collar needed to be reserved for special occasions.

I wore the collar on Saturday night and found my feelings about it had changed. It still symbolized giving myself completely to him, but this wasn’t something I wanted to do every once in a while – I really did want it all the time. There is something so comforting about the feel of the leather against my neck, the momentary discomfort if I move in the wrong way, and finally the knowledge that I am his girl. Being his girl is more than just objectification (yet another concept I wanted nothing to do with). It means while I am here for him to use as he pleases, he’s here to love me, cherish me, and most importantly at this time, to keep me safe.

I find such bliss is being used in this fashion. I don’t have to make any decisions. I can express desires, but he gets the final say. I am completely fine with him fucking my throat and allowing me to drink his cum (my favorite activity right now) and I could care less about having an orgasm myself, I am just so happy to be of service.

As much as I want to, I can’t wear the collar all the time. While it is a very nice one (dark red leather with a swirl design cut into it), explaining it to my kids and others is too much for me to even think of handling at the moment. I’ll be going out tomorrow to get the supplies at long last to make my everyday collar – a beaded choker with a Celtic knotwork design on it. I want this so much – I even asked permission to add collared to my status on Fetlife.

My mantra for the moment:

I’m his girl, and he loves me and wants to make me happy, keep me safe and cherish me. My task is to accept this as true and to trust my Master.

Thank you, Master.

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Interruptions

I woke up in the middle of the night with an incredible desire to have my nipples pinched and pulled and to be be fucked. That strong desire where I can almost feel my breasts being lifted up by the nipples and his cock sliding in and out of me. I was just getting ready to curl up to him to see if he would be willing to oblige when our youngest woke.

He came back shortly and I curled up to him in the bed, hoping that I would get the fucking that I desired. Then our oldest woke.

When he came back to bed at last, I knew it wasn’t happening. I just savored the frustration and went back to sleep lovely little dreams.

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