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Contractual Obligations

I’ve mentioned that I’m still dealing with anxiety and depression.  One of the ways this manifests is that I try to stay in bed/on the couch as much as possible so I don’t have to deal with thinking about things.  This is no way to function and ends up making my depression and anxiety worse.  After reading Living M/s, we came up with the idea of the husband taking more control and writing up a formal contract outlining what that control will entail.

We tried it out in November, but it did not go well.  There was always a reason for why I needed to go back to bed in the morning or doze in the afternoon and he willingly went along with whatever I said.  Then it would get to the point that I had so many infractions that the contract was useless and we would vow to, “start again on Monday.”

This incarnation of the contract is different.  For starters, he’s not going to be lenient with me any more.  I need to have a damned good reason as to why I need to go back to bed in the morning and he’ll tell me “No” if that reason isn’t good enough.  I still can tell him flat out if I can’t do it which will be dealt with on a case by case basis.

We are also incorporating corporal punishment for infractions.  This, understandably, scares the shit out of me but his reason for doing it is sound and I’m willing to put myself into his hands.  We talked about it on Saturday and I voiced my fears and he gave his reasons as to why he thought this was the way to go and I agree with him.  An infraction has to have consequences that are real and a deterrent to future infractions.  To deal with my fears and triggers, he’ll be incorporating specific aftercare for punishment.  There’s also a clause that if I break a particular clause more than three times that we have to go back and rewrite that clause because it’s obviously not working so I will not be getting an opened ended number of beatings.

This is something that needs to happen.  I’m planning on going back to school in the fall and both of my kids will be in school for a full day so I have to have something already set up to occupy and organize that time.  He’s wanted to take more control over my daily life for some time now, I just haven’t been ready for it.  Today is the first day and so far it’s gone pretty well.  I’ll have to see what tomorrow brings.

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Service Interrupted

One of the hardest things to get back into is the service aspects of our dynamic.  I got a great deal of satisfaction and pleasure in serving him before I got sick.  I made eggs and bacon, corn fritters, or french toast most mornings for breakfast.  I baked several times a week.  I even made sure to serve him at family functions, fixing his plate or fetching him a Coke to drink.  It made me very happy.

When I got sick, he took over much of these tasks or they just didn’t get done.  There was no baking, he took over responsibility for his own breakfasts and feeding the kids, and he served himself on the rare occasions we visited my family for dinner.  I could barely keep it together to take care of myself and the kids on most days, serving him just had to go.

As I’ve finally started getting better over the past six months, I still haven’t picked back up on the service aspects of our dynamic.  I still make dinner every night and fix him a plate but it doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies like it used to.  Two weeks ago I started getting up early to make a hot breakfast for him and it still feels more like a chore than anything else, mostly because I’m missing out on those extra ten minutes of sleep in the morning.  To be honest, serving him like I used to actually scares me.  I’m scared that I’m not going to be able to live up to his expectations (of which he has none for the record).  I have very high expectations for myself in this area, well in all areas truth be told, and I set myself up for automatic failure because I’m not living up to them.

It’s not just service but everything it seems.  Last night I was convinced that he was disappointed in me because it took too long for me to come and I wasn’t able to come multiple times (note: we’ve only been having regular sex now for about four months, before it was a few times a month and it usually took the hitachi to make me come if it happened at all).  I actually broke down in the middle of things because I was so upset that I couldn’t come despite his best efforts.  It wasn’t my fault, but a case of him being a bit too enthusiastic and overstimulating me.  Once I calmed down and he fucked me for a bit before finishing in my mouth, I came in about the normal amount of time for me.

Reading old blog posts leaves me feeling inadequate.  I see what we had and how long it’s going to take top get back there if we get back there at all.  I’m not even sure I want to serve him like that any more.  Our kids have gotten older and take more time and stress to take care of, I just don’t have the reserves to be all smiling and skipping, serving him his food and drink.  I get very sad because it was something that made me so happy, the little thrill I got by saying, “Here’s your breakfast, Sweetheart!”  Everything has changed and I don’t know if it will ever be like it was.  I have to remind myself that even though I feel much better than I did, I’m still recovering and the only cure for that is time and that is incredibly frustrating because I want to be better NOW.  I was a different person when I wrote and did those things.  It’s hard to have the patience to get back there or find new things to do.

In other news, my bruises from last week’s caning have all healed so guess who gets to be beaten with a stick this weekend?  He also applied a depilatory to my pussy last weekend and some stubble is coming back so we’ll have to do that again too.  I never thought not having hair there would make such a difference, but it really does so it’s something we’ll be doing for the time being.

Questioning my motivations

The other night we had a particularly intense scene.  He warmed me up by spanking me for about ten to fifteen minutes, had me do some fellatio and then caned me for twenty minutes.  He ‘s caned me once before and it was really good, but this time it crossed the line into the sublime.  I don’t think I’ve ever gone that deep into subspace before and truthfully I did let him go on for longer than I should have if the bruises on my ass are any indication.  After he was done, all I could do was just lay there, moaning softly for the next ten minutes or so.

Sub-drop hit me pretty hard and it made me question why I like this.  I mean, my husband just beat me with a stick for twenty minutes and I actually squirted while he was doing it.  What did it say about me that I enjoyed the hell out of it?  These thoughts really upset me and despite our normal aftercare routine I was actually in tears over it.  I mean, what was wrong with me?  He’s spanked me in the past, even gotten me into subspace a few times with it and that seemed all right, not great but I could parse it.  Being beaten with a stick and wanting more?  Somehow this was completely different.

He cuddled with me, told me there was nothing wrong with me.  Liking this didn’t make me a bad person.  It was something that happened between two consenting adults in a loving manner.  He was amazed at how I took it, how long I lasted.  He couldn’t get over the fact that I trusted him enough to let him do it to me in the first place.  He just kept holding me and praising me, telling me over and over that there was nothing wrong with me for wanting this.  I finally calmed down, but I didn’t know how much I believed him.

I was physically punished as a child and still suffer from some trauma over it.  Finding sexual gratification in an activity so close to one that terrified me is a bit hard to process.  I have to remind myself that the other night came from a place of love and trust.  It was about giving up power, not having it taken away from me.  There was no anger, no punishment.  I didn’t beg him to stop only to be ignored.  Yes, the activities are very close, but they aren’t the same.  Like a belt is a rock hard limit for me, I will never let him strike me with one because of how it was used on me as a child.  This was just a stick.  What was so bad about a stick?

It all comes down to trust and consenting adults which when you get down to it aren’t so different.  I know I enjoy pain, that I find sexual gratification from it and most of the time this sits just fine with me.  Every once in a while though I question it.  When I was sick we put practically all things BDSM away, but especially anything that involved pain.  I was in a state where I was self injuring and we both were afraid of my using that as a means to hurt myself.  I guess that is one of the reasons why I question it.  On the surface, how different is the bite of the cane from a slash of a knife?  There is a big difference though.  He was not punishing me when he was caning me.  I trusted him with my body, knowing he would never really hurt me.  Yes, sitting has been a bit on the painful side for the past two days, but there’s hurting and there’s hurting.  That’s what I need to get through my head.  Not all pain is bad.  Not all pain is punishment.  The bite of the cane is about consent and trust.  I’m not punishing myself nor am I being punished for some arbitrary reason like being bad.  This is a lesson I need to wrap my head around, but one that I know I’ll be revisiting often.

Dusting off the cobwebs

A lot has happened over the past two years.  I suffered a major depressive episode and it’s taken me this long to pull out of it.  I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the love and support of my husband.  Between that and all the stresses of me being sick, BDSM pretty much stopped because I really wasn’t in a place where I could do anything.  We’ve just now started playing again and finding that we have to start back at square one.  There are things that I really want to do for him but my mental state is still too fragile for me to consider them right now.  I’m hoping that writing again will help with that.

I love him so much and want to give myself completely to him but I’m still scared of it, of not being able to live up to his expectations.  He’s told me that he has no expectations, that he feels privileged that I want to give myself to him.  He wants more than anything to cherish me and keep me safe.  So bear with me as I work through these feelings.

Pain for pain’s sake

Up until recently, any play that involved pain had a feeling of love and care to it.  I loved being able to ride the sensations and push my limits and he loved taking me there.  I know it sounds counter intuitive, but there is a nurturing aspect to our impact play, a sensual air that you would expect to see present in lovemaking rather than in being flogged or spanked.

Since we’ve been exploring both objectification and his own sadistic leanings, pain is shifting into an expression of his power and dominance of me and I’m still learning to process it.  By no means is he a sadistic bastard every time we go to fool around or even play, but he is getting more comfortable in admitting those leanings to himself so it is coming up a bit more often.  A few weeks ago we did the preparations for me to enter object space and he was, to be frank, a sadistic bastard.  I sported the bruises of the breast slapping for a good two weeks and have now developed a full-on hatred for the crop.  I made the mental preparations to get in the right mind-set and we did the work after to get me out of object space.  He had more trouble processing the scene than I did, but it was one of the first times he really let his sadistic side out to play.

Last night was a little different.  We did one of those, “But I thought you were going to tell me when you were ready to go up,” kind of things so by the time we did get upstairs it was really too late for the full-on impact play scene I was hoping for.  One thing led to another as they always do, and I got to see the kind sadist.  The kind sadist nurtures and praises me for what I can take, but it’s still outright pain he is causing me.  We have a bad habit of falling into really big things with no preparations and last night was again one of those situations.  I took a hell of a lot of breast and nipple torture last night, and towards the end it was all I could do to not cry out as he pinched and pulled at me with surprising intensity.  There was no depersonalization, his voice was kind and gentle always in complete contrast to what he was doing to me.  He told me what he wanted from me in the future, how he looked forward to kissing away my tears from the pain he inflicted on me and how he waited for the day I would beg to receive crop blows on my breasts.

This scene was much harder for me to process and I’m still doing some emotional bouncing from it.  If sadism is to be the focus of our play for the evening, I need to do similar preparations as I do for getting into object space.  This is similar to object space, but different.  There is a strong sense of the trust that exists between us and I am definitely still his girl, but oh the awful things he’s doing to his girl.  Breathing through the pain, trying to be as silent as possible and finally when I couldn’t hold back gasping and even letting out stifled cries.  Even as part of me cringes at the memories of it, I am longing to submit to him in this way again.

Due to the hour last night, we didn’t get to do much beyond basic cuddling after the scene ended.  We got to have a good debriefing this morning and deconstruct what happened and how it affected both of us.  He needed to remind me numerous times that my tears and need for care were not signs of weakness and he marveled at the strength and trust I posses to submit to him in this fashion.  He made a decision that as with the objectification, I am to be in charge of when it happens.  He will not require this type of service from me unless I am willing to give it.  After writing this post, I am coming to the conclusion that I want to give up this control to him, that I am truly at his service whether that be as his toy or his girl and it is his decision as to what he does.

As we move deeper into things, both in the bedroom and without, I am finding it easier and easier to submit to him, and in that submission I feel safe and loved.  It seems like everything I had considered a hard limit is being stripped away, or at least pushed to its utmost edge.  My fears are becoming less and less pronounced as we progress.  Every level of control I relinquish, every step I take in my submission is met with his strong hands guiding me and catching me when I take the leap.

e[lust] #11

HNT courtesy of Neptune Blue

Welcome to e[lust] – Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #12? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

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There has been much talk of objectification recently.  It is something that I desire greatly but still have a lot of fear surrounding it.  I composed an email to my husband this morning to get my thoughts written down and more organized…

I can imagine myself naked, kneeling in the middle of the floor wearing my collar.  My eyes are down cast, working on achieving the proper object head space for you.  I breath in and whisper the word, “Master”, I breath out and whisper, “I am yours to use.”  I repeat this as I wait for you, sinking deeper and deeper into the head space that allows me to become your toy, to belong utterly to you, to have nothing in my mind but to follow your commands and to do whatever is asked of me.

I am yours and I do belong to you, but this is deeper.  This is the complete suppression of self to your will.  I exist for your will, and your will alone. I can go this deep because I love you and I trust you utterly.  I can completely abandon myself to you.  I will speak only when spoken to.  I will address you only as “Master” because that is who you are.  I sit patiently waiting to see how you will use me that evening with no desires or expectations outside of being your toy for this period of time.  I am completely yours.

When you are finished, I will come back and be your girl once more, your beloved pet.  Not a toy to be used, but your girl to be cherished.  I will process my object space, leave it behind and allow myself to be taken care of by you.

I do want this desperately, Master.  Will you help me achieve it?

I don’t know how deep we’ll get this weekend, but the groundwork is being laid.