Thoughts of Him

Thoughts of Him fill me. They cause my soul to expand, my spirit to soar and my cunt to leak. I am enmeshed by Him, I am permeated by His essence. I cannot escape Him, nor do I want to. The distance is breached by my mental captivity and punctuated by notes and conversations. In one way or another, He is always with me.

My mind feels His constant embrace, His control and consideration influences all that I do. His voice echoes inside of me, guiding me, calming me, affirming me. My skin tingles and quivers with phantom touches of His hands. Remembrances of His caresses and pinches, exhilerate and flush me. Touches that arouse me, mold me, direct me to an outcome. Strong, sure touches of Him handling His property, managing me. Weilding His dominance to ply me and shape me.

He has developed that longing inside me. I hunger to taste Him. I ache for His hands on me, probing me, igniting the fire inside of me. I covet His pinches and slaps that inflame me and awaken me. He has conquered me. I am His; His pet, His slut, His lover, His servant. He has subdued me and bridled me. He holds me in check, yet He can still release the violent and wild streak within. He holds mastery over me. He does all of this, with my thoughts of Him.

Love, Trust and Submission

Greenwoman recently wrote a post on this topic.

Do you think that subs confuse submission with love? Is it possible to need to submit because love is there? Is it possible to love someone because they submit?

Do you think Doms confuse Dominance with love? Is it possible to need to be dominant because love is there? Is it possible to love someone because you control them?

From The Thinking Dominant.

Her thoughts on this were excellent, if you haven't read her post, you should go and do that now. I went back several times and started to comment, but I decided that my feelings on this, and the length and personal nature of what I had to say, warranted writing a post of my own. I also found myself waffling on my own answer, I think that a lot depends on the definition that you give to dominance and submission. When I first began to explore all of this, I thought that my giving in to someone was the same as submitting. I didn't see much difference between bottoming and submission. I didn't see love as a necessary component at all. As long as trust and communication were there, it was all good and doable. That was before I entered into a true power exchange.

Looking back, it was a chicken or the egg situation. The more I trusted J and the more I communicated with Him, the more intimacy we shared. I am not really even sure when I began loving Him, one day, I just knew I did. Whether my love enabled me to submit more deeply, or the intimacy created by my submission allowed me to love Him, I'm not sure. It all just evolved. It continues to evolve. Each day, I love Him more. Each day, I strive to surrender to Him more. I do remember worrying. I was afraid that my love might not be returned. I was afraid that it would be perceived as being needy or demanding. I had worked very hard at keeping certain boundaries in place and loving Him was crossing the line (in my mind). I was wrong. I was using my past relationships and experiences as the precedent, as my guideline. In my past, any love I received was bound by conditions and stipulations. It was fraught with expectations and dependent on the situation. I remember being told; "If you do not fill in the blank, I will not love you anymore." Things are very different with J, I am loved and I know I am loved. I do not have to be perfect, I only have to be me.

I know that all of what I have written above, does not answer the questions at hand. It does give my perspective, where I am coming from.

To answer the questions, I think that we have to remember that D/s relationships are still relationships. The power exchange can complicate things, but underneath it all, it is a connection between two people. Yes, I think that subs can confuse submission with love. Just as some women can confuse being sexually intimate with love, submitting is an act of intimacy, it can be confusing. Intimacy and love are different, you can be intimate without being in love. I am not so sure that you can be in love without sharing some form of intimacy. Intimacy is a deeply personal connection, it is not the same as sex or love, but I think that it greatly improves both of them.

I do not think that love creates a need to submit. I think that the propensity for submission is either there or it isn't. It is not something love can create. I will concede that someone might need to be in love to be able to submit, but I think that the inclination must already be present. Love and submission are two different things and are not necessarily tied into each other. I don't believe it is possible to love someone just because they submit. I think that there must be more of a basis for love to be sustained. Submission can be a part of that, but it cannot be the whole.

I don't really feel qualified to answer the questions from the Dominant's perspective. Though I do think that the same principles apply. Dominance and control are not enough to sustain love. If that is the only reason you love someone, then it is probably not love.

Love has many facets, it encompasses a wide range of actions and emotions. I cannot speak for men, but for women, I think it can be easy to confuse other feelings with love. I may draw a lot of fire or criticism for what I am about to say, but it always concerns me when I read of submissive women pledging their love and surrender to someone they have never met in person. Especially, when their online interaction has only been going on for a few months. Our imaginations and our minds can be powerful. Our fantasies can seem very real, but I can tell you from experience, that fantasy and reality are very different. Submitting or being spanked or whipped can be completely different when experienced in person.

In my own experiences, reality, with J, has been wonderful, more intense, more intimate, but that may not always be the case. I have been in other relationships where reality simply failed the test. What had existed in my mind, what I had fantasized about, did not occur. Maybe the trust was not there, maybe there wasn't enough communication, maybe my submission was lacking, whatever the reason, the experience did not live up to my fantasies. With J, my experiences have always surpassed the fantasies. He has freed me, He releases me, I continually want to give Him more. He pushes me, He has taken me past all of my limits, He stretches my submission, He demands answers to hard questions. Yet, He is gentle with my psyche, I know I am safe and cared for. His dominance offers me the strength and the security that I need.

Delurking on my own blog

I am still around and I am well. I have been reading all of the other blogs that I read, but I haven't been commenting much nor have I been posting here. I am not sure why, other than my mind has been a swirl of thoughts and I can't get them to stop swirling long enough to put them down in a coherent manner. Perhaps it is the winter cold, or my mental forays into my past and thinking about how that ties into my present. Maybe it is just my post-holiday tiredness. Although I have thought about many topics, my mind wanders off before I can make a point or draw a conclusion. I have been organized and ordered enough to go to work, then come home to cook and clean, take care of doggies and occasionally grandchildren. There just hasn't been much leftover when it comes to writing, as Austin Powers would say, "I've lost my mojo, baby." So, in an attempt to get back in the groove (so to speak), I am going to write about my beginnings with J.

In the spring of 2007, I caved in to the pressure of some of my friends and co-workers and I put up a page on a social networking site (Yes, it was My Space). I wasn't into the whole adding friends and leaving comments sort of thing, but I did start blogging there. Most of what I wrote had a political slant with a little social commentary mixed in. Everything I wrote had a chip on my shoulder kind of air to it, but in spite of that, I began getting messages from other people. Given the statistical odds, about half of those people were men. And given the nature of that site, more than half of those men were looking for women.

At that point in my life, I had been single, dateless and celibate for a long time. There was a reason for that, my past relationships (especially my last marriage) had left me not only with a bad taste in my mouth, but a damaged psyche as well. It made me fiercely independent, cynical and solitary. As much as the men I heard from did not interest me, I realized that maybe meeting someone, for a casual type of relationship, did interest me. That summer, I put a profile on a (vanilla) dating site. On my profile, I confirmed that I was not looking for a particularly serious relationship, that I was very independent and I also included a minuscule reference to possible kinkiness. Again, I was not very intrigued by the men that messaged me.

It was in browsing through profiles that I came across J. His profile was brief, but well-written. It reflected similar (vanilla) interests and a location that was not too close (though not too far). I sent Him a short message expressing interest and requesting a little more information. His reply is what captured me (literally). He responded specifically to things I had written in my profile. He was clearly intelligent, funny, disarmingly honest and He brought up His interest in D/s and spanking. Though I was a bit surprised (and taken aback) by his candidness, I was also very intrigued and drawn to Him. We began corresponding online and talking on the phone, within a couple of exchanges I felt very submissive towards Him.

I had never encountered a man like Him. He was naturally dominant (whatever that is) and He seemed to have known me my entire life. It was as if He could read my mind, He just knew me. I never questioned my ability to trust Him, nor His ability to lead me. I felt cared for, safe and submissive. In less than two months, we met. Being with Him in person, only confirmed everything I had been feeling. That was a year and a half ago. In that time, I have only become more enamoured with Him, more trusting, more cared for, and very much in love. I have told Him things I have never told anyone. Things that I thought made me too needy, too high maintenance, too damaged. Nothing fazed Him, not my insecurities, my confessions, nor my past. He has exorcised my demons, He has healed me, He has made me His. Even the distance (that was originally my safety net), has not adversely affected us. I feel close to Him always, even when we are apart. He has become part of me, His presence is inside of me.

He has freed me, so He can possess me. He has healed me, so He can see me shed tears. He has strengthened me, so I can surrender to Him. The casual relationship that I was seeking has snared my soul. Surely, we have shared past lives, for He is my twin flame. For someone who has never believed in soulmates, I have had to rethink and temper my whole philosophy. In J, I have found what I never even knew existed.



Ain't No Other Man ~ Christina Aguilera

Myths and Fairytales

Holidays are a time of traditions and ritual, I have always held fast to that notion. When the boys were young and I was the primary (sometimes only) parent in their life, I tried very hard to give them a sense of family and belonging. I could not make up for an absent parent, but I could offer them security. Now they are adults and I play a lesser role in their lives. As they have gained independence, so have I. At times I have felt pangs of guilt due to not keeping up all the traditions and rituals. I have also realized that they need to develop their own sense of tradition.

Knowing my past and my family history (even prior to my existence) has given me a sense of connectedness and belonging. As a child, I loved stories about my parents, grandparents and ancestors. I wanted to know the whole story, where we came from and who we were. Often those stories contained gaps, either things not remembered or things not told. And even more of those stories were a bit fictionalized, my father glossed over and trivialized the painful and difficult times. My mother didn't want to recount the struggles (or maybe didn't want to remember them). That left my imagination to fill in the gaps, to create my own version of what might have been.

I have always read, a lot. I have also had a love of movies. Certain books and movies stirred and fueled my imagination. When my mother talked of being poor and living during the Depression, I filled in the details from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I didn't confuse fiction with reality, but it gave me a sense of how things were. When my father talked of growing up in Minnesota on a farm, it brought to mind Walnut Grove of the Little House series. To a greater degree, I yearned for more exotic. I wondered about our European roots, what life had been like in the Old Country. That was where accuracy came to matter less. It was the tradition that I craved. When I first saw Fiddler on the Roof, I wondered if there were any Russian Jews in our ancestry. (No there were not, but that didn't stop me from thinking.) I wondered what it would have been like to have lived with that sense of ritual. No matter that we weren't Jewish, or that the story was fictionalized and turned into a musical, I was sure that somewhere in history we shared a similarity.

Of course, when I saw Gone With the Wind, I wanted our history to be peppered with plantations and southern belles. Though, I think that I really just wanted to have Rhett Butler carry me up the stairs to the bedroom. I had a need to be dominated, even then. I identified much more with feisty Scarlett, than gracious Melanie.



Sometimes, we can be mired in our history and our tradition. Sometimes, we forget why we do the things we do. As Tevya says; "Because of our traditons, we've kept our balance for many, many years. We have traditions for everything. How to sleep. How to eat. How to work. How to wear clothes. For instance, we always keep our heads covered and always wear a little prayer shawl. This shows our constant devotion to God. You may ask, how did this tradtion get started? I'll tell you. I don't know. But it's a tradtition, and because of our traditions, everyone of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do."



Over the years, I have gone from blindly following traditions and beliefs, to questioning it all. That hasn't always led me to abandon my traditions and beliefs, sometimes it has confirmed to me the reasons for it all. Other times, it has showed me the error of things, the perpetuation of the baseless myths. I have evolved, as have my children (hopefully), by defining and refining what I believe and what I do. There are things I have let go of and there are things I have embraced.

Before you all ask, where is the kink and the sex in this? Bear with me, I am getting there. All of those rituals and beliefs have given me a sense of belonging, it became my identity. It kept me balanced. Much like what my submission does now. That submission, our relationship, has not taken the place of those rituals and beliefs, but it has enhanced them. My submission to J gives me a sense of identity. It is a part of me, just as important as all of those other parts of me. From it, I derive a feeling of belonging, a sense of security. We have developed our own ritual, we have achieved our own balance. My role, my service to Him keeps me grounded, it's what I do. My relationship to J, has also helped me see my relationship in the Universe.

Okay, so there really isn't any kink and sex in this one. Just some rambling thoughts pulled from my mind that is clouded by holiday excess. If you've read this far, Bless you! I warn you though, the rest is really off on a tangent. I think I have been away from school for way too long. I need to win the lottery, or rob a bank, and get my ass back in a classroom. At this point, that is the only way I will do it, because, since I have been paying my son's tuition, there is nothing left over for mine. So indulge me and either quit reading now, or accept the fact that my sex blog post has turned into a really bad, school paper. But this is the route that my thoughts took me. You know that you can't get a direct, non-stop flight anywhere anymore. Think of this as your lay-over in Chicago (and know that you might be snowed in).

I doubt that many of you are familiar with Urie Bronfenbrenner's model of child development and human ecology. Forgive me as I digress, but this is how I have visualized this in my mind.

He sees each individual as a series of ever widening, concentric circles. In the center is the individual's biological nature, our DNA, genetics, our race, our nationality, and so on. The next circle is our immediate environment, our immediate family, our home, possessions, friends, peers. Surrounding that is our social and economic context, school, work, community, economic circumstance. The outer circle is the cultural context, including cultural and societal influences. These spheres of influence interact from both directions, all of the circles influencing the individual and the individual influencing the surrounding spheres. Bronfenbrenner later renamed the circles with the terms: microsystem, mesosystem, exosystem and macrosystem, as he expanded his theory to human ecology, including adults as well as children.

The circles closest to the individual have the most influence. J has as much influence in my immediate environment as anything else around me. He has influenced my development of late, I have also, in some ways, influenced Him. That is where my relationship to the Universe comes into play. My influence ripples outward to everything around me, just as it all imposes influence upon me. My relationship with J has changed me, it has changed my outward influence and my my reaction to outward influences. We are but a small speck in the big picture, but together our significance increases. What we are and what we do has increased my significance and my value.

Voices from my past

A person from my past has been sending me messages. It has been hard, but I have chosen not to respond. We have already had these conversations, I have already answered these questions. There was a time when I considered him as a friend, a mentor. I admired him and respected him, I suppose I even loved him. Some part of me still feels all of those things, but he doesn't really know me, he never really listened to me. Entertaining a conversation now, would not change that.

At one time, I was hopeful about what might be. He seemed familiar, comfortable. I mistakenly confused comfort with familiarity. Things were familiar because they mimicked a destructive relationship I had been in. He saw me for someone he could shape me into, he did not accept me for who I was. I mistook demands and control for dominance. He claimed he admired my strength, yet he was resentful when my strength opposed him. His messages now, range from sad, to angry, to hopeful. The past year has been hard and difficult for him, I wish I could be a friend to him, but I can't. He does not want my friendship, he wants more. I am sad, because I see how he has isolated himself from people who could be supportive, including me. Everything must be on his own terms, so my silence remains as my thoughts go out to him.

The whole thing has made me see how self-destructive we can be. We try and control things rather than accept things. We hold onto the familiar, even when it keeps us from growing. We listen to words, even when actions contradict them. Life is hard, change is even harder. We want others to change, so we can stay the same. It is easy to miss the nuances of relationship. The familiar seems comfortable, when it is actually stagnating. Trust cannot be given until it is earned. Love and caring stem from acceptance, growth can't occur until we accept what is.

I am grateful for J. He has helped me learn these truths. He accepted me for who I was, even as He embraced and encouraged my growth. He has always been worthy of my trust and He has helped me trust myself again. I am safe with Him, on a level that I have not experienced before. He is the only person that I have ever been able to fully reveal myself to, without fear of judgement or retribution. He has enabled my submission, by teaching me what dominance is.

Be careful what you wish for...

Despite having numerous things to complete before Christmas, having time off is also giving me ample time to dwell and obsess on our upcoming time together. As I have alluded to here, I am craving intensity and severity. What I have written to Him privately has been a bit more graphic and detailed. My requests of Him and my descriptions of scenarios are not demands in any way. He has always encouraged me to share my thoughts and fantasies with Him, He wants to know specifics, He wants explicit details, I try very hard to oblige Him. I am aware that it is about His desires and His pleasure, not mine. Though, He is very caring and considerate of me and my desires. I am a lucky girl, especially when it comes to my masochistic tendencies, as He seems very willing to give me exactly what I am wanting and more.

As if my own desires and proclivities don't provide me with enough masturbatory fodder, He has been kind enough to send me the written details of what He has planned. It is a message that I have reread numerous times this past week. His writing and descriptions put my own words to shame, He has as much mastery over the written word, as He does over me. Each time I have read His complete and descriptive account, I have felt the heat and the wetness, oozing from my cunt and soaking my panties. This last time, I realized I was trembling as I slid my hand down my pants to my very hard and sensitive clit.

The bottom line (no pun intended) is that I need Him to hurt me. I need Him to spank me and whip me, ignoring my pleas and sobs. I want to be pushed over the edge, to where I have completely lost control and totally surrendered to Him. I will admit that the prospect scares me (just a little), but I also do not fear the end result. I lust for His extreme, excessive, and uncompromising domination and use of me.

Hopeful

Although it has been a long time for us, I had come to expect to have to wait even longer. Often, previous responsibilities, time constraints, and circumstances take precedence over our desires. I certainly would like to be with Him more, but these periods of separation are the nature of the beast. My love, my yearnings and my submission are all exclusively His. Waiting patiently for Him, in between our scheduled liaisons, is what I do. Each encounter rewards me and confirms that He is worth the wait. Now, my hopefulness abounds with the possibility that we will be together in the next couple of weeks.

I have been wanting and asking for intensity, severity and pain. I want my limits pushed, my submission tested. I need to be consumed and overwhelmed by Him. I have no doubt that He will happily and eagerly fulfill my desires. I am awaiting it with breathless anticipation and a bit of anxiety. I am not afraid, I have no fear with Him. I am safe with Him, my trust is complete, as is my submission to Him. Only with Him, can I let myself go and give into my desires. He accepts me, both as an individual and as His possession. I am hopeful that I will begin the New Year, surrendered, marked and owned by Him.

Longings

It has been a long time since we have actually been together. This end of the year time is extremely busy and stressful for Him. While that is actually a good reason to schedule time together, it also makes it very difficult to do just that. The dynamics of our relationship make the separation and distance okay with me. I always feel His presence and His influence in my life. We have almost daily contact of one form or another. My submission and His dominance are not dependent on our being together physically. I am actually amazed at how well this works for us. That said, I do regret not being able to be more present for Him. I wish that I could be in service more to Him, I would love to be able to provide Him with more of a break from the stressors of daily life.


The distance does serve to make me more appreciative of our time together. My desire for Him never wanes and is often quite controlling in itself. When we were talking the other day, I mentioned my desires. I told Him how much I yearned to serve Him, I referred to the things that I would like to do to Him and for Him. He asked me to tell Him, to describe it, and then He told me...You do know that my cock is in my hand now, don't you? That comment did it for me, it immediately turned me on, even more than I already was. An incredible yearning and desire for His cock washed over me. I wanted to see Him masturbate, I wanted to wrap my hand around His cock. I love how it feels, I love seeing it, I love the heat and the firmness of His erection in my hand.


I love any and all interaction I get with His cock. I love the feeling of it pressed against me, through His pants, when we embrace. I love feeling it under me as I lay over His lap for a spanking. I love unzipping His pants to see it spring free, right before I grasp it with my hand. I love kneeling before Him to slide my mouth down the length of His shaft. I love feeling it thrusting into my mouth, slamming into the back of my throat, making me gag. I love feeling it slip into my wet slit. smooth and hard and teasing, making me push against it, thrust towards it, needing to be filled with it.

I am enthralled by it, obsessed by it. I fantasize about it. I fantasize about slipping into a dark alley, so I can kneel and take it in my mouth right then. I fantasize about following Him into a public bathroom, or a stairwell, only to be pushed against the wall and feel it sliding into me. I fantasize about straddling Him on a park bench, in a forgotten corner of a park. I may be submissive, but I am not a patient girl. I do not want to wait for His cock, especially when I have not seen Him for awhile. I want His cock right then! I know He gets amused when I beg Him, down on my knees, please don't make me wait, I need to suck your cock right now. We have shared many late night dinners, because my hunger for His cock was greater than my hunger for any food.

This time apart, this last period of waiting, has whittled away at my patience even more. My desire for service to Him, combined with my desire for Him, has me needing His cock more than ever. My cunt aches for it, my hand is empty without it, my mouth salivates for it. I am in heat, again.

Control

Finding and re-reading parts of my earlier blog have made me think a lot about our journey of the past seventeen months. In the beginning, I didn't know what to expect. For that matter, I still don't, each passing day brings surprises of new desires. What I didn't expect was the level of comfort our relationship gives me. Comfort with Him and comfort in my role of submission. It is about His control. I need it, I crave it and I love it. I am still constantly amazed at the control He has over me. Not just the mental, as in, I would do anything He asks of me, but the physical control that He has over my body. Both the conscious and unconscious response I have to Him.

In my past relationships, I always held tightly onto control. Not the control of the relationships, but the control of myself. Thinking about releasing that control, left me with the fear of spinning out of control. That of course is the difference. I am not, now, out of control, I am in His control. I am still safe, I feel very secure and I am quite comfortable being in His control. In fact, anymore, I live for that control. I am not talking about slavery or micro-management, I know that both of those things can define a dynamic, just not ours. My entire being responds to Him, regardless if I am reading His words, hearing His voice or He is here in person. I love the feeling of His control over me. I love being immersed in His power, I love letting go to Him.

His control is a force which envelops me. A suggestion or directive elicits an immediate physical response from my body. Even when He is not here, I can feel His presence, His hands on me. I am mentally bound by Him and to Him. I am His possession, that is my choice. Yet it is beyond a simple act of choosing, it is a compulsion. That component, my surrender to Him, is a part of me, it is ingrained in me. It has been easy to slip into this role and it is impossible to just relinquish it. I need Him, I do not want to take the control back, nor could I ever give it to someone else. I belong to Him and even if He should ever walk away, I would still belong to Him.

I'm a snit

When I was a little insufferable girl (as opposed to a big insufferable girl), my sister used to call me a snit. This is the sister that I am actually close to now. I don't really know what that means. I think it is somewhere between "having your panties in a wad" and being an "annoying, shallow, little bitch." In any case, I feel like a snit. This week, I have been easily annoyed. This usually only happens when I am encountered by in your face ignorance, combined with arrogance.

My co-worker will absolutely not keep his yap shut. Last Friday he was talking about guns. He stated that every home should have one. He said that gun owners should be able to have assault weapons, because, someday, we may have to once again form militias and defend ourselves against the government (scary, huh). I ignored the last part of his diatribe (I mean, honestly, how do you even respond to that?) and I told him that I am not opposed to gun ownership, if the owner is responsible and can make sure no accidents will happen (is that even possible?). I told him that my ex-husband owned guns (he was a cop, for crying out loud) and he offered me one for protection when we split. I declined, knowing that I would be a single, working mother with boys at home. I know how to shoot, I am an excellent marksman, my boys know how to shoot, but I would never have had a gun at home with the boys. Too much of an equation for disaster, especially when they were teenagers. He responded by telling me that my problem was making guns taboo. If I had just taken the time to teach them proper safety and respect, it would have been fine. I went off! I told him that he had no clue and no right to tell me how to parent my children, especially considering that he has never raised children (thank God his DNA has not been passed on). I told him that I would absolutely refuse to discuss any political or controversial topics with him ever again. I told him that I find his views offensive, and though I am not opposed to healthy debate, arguing with him is toxic.

Last week, I commented on a discussion thread in Fetlife. Apparently, I stepped on some one's toes, because he came at me with a vengeance. Somehow, (okay, with my help) the thread spread to other discussion groups and took on a life of its own. I am ashamed to admit I participated in a flaming war and I just could not walk away from the fight. As of today, it is over. (Except for my rehashing it here, I have to get it out of my system.) The one thread was shut down by the moderator and I have made a commitment that I will not be sucked back into any others.

Don't get me wrong, there really are plenty of times that I bite my tongue and walk away. Sometimes, I just can't (or don't want to), I do not feel like everyone should agree with me. I do try to expose myself to differing opinions and understand others. I just want a little respect and consideration in return. I want a little concession, an acknowledgement that they they might be wrong. Or at least, let's agree to disagree. Yet, there are times that I find myself being stubborn and judgemental too. I would like to think that I am above being reactionary, that I don't have anything to prove, that if I encounter rudeness I can walk away. The truth is that occasionally, I get sucked in. Reacting and arguing that way, makes me feel like a pitbull in lipstick. Something I definitely do not want to become (on either side of the aisle). So, why do I do it? (Paul and Shannee, I am open to suggestions.)

J has also had a bad week. He has been working crazy hours, under a great deal of stress. I would have loved to have been in complete service to Him (I did try to be supportive, despite the distance), but I was over in Fetlife, arguing with a lunatic. Great submissive attitude. Maybe this pet needs a muzzle and a leash. Actually, He is the key, when I focus my energy on Him, I am fine. He is my focal point, my center. My submission negates my need to prove anything to anyone (but Him). His caring dominance is the only validation that I need. Focusing on Him calms me. I just need to always remember that. I am a very lucky girl and I do know it!

To my readers: I apologize for my atypical post and my atypical behavior. I do learn a great deal from you and you do keep me honest. To J, I apologize for losing my focus, I'll try to do better. I will reward you all with the following, found on Ponygirl's blog.



If that doesn't make you smile, nothing will.

Do it to me...right now!

My mood is improving, I am back to feeling like myself. I am also back to thinking about J, alot, all the time. I want Him, in every way I can imagine. I want His cock, I want His hands on me, I want His mouth. I want Him to spank me. The last time He spanked me, it was very hard and very intense. I struggled, it hurt, it was almost too much. At least I thought so at the time, but when it was over, I glowed (and not just my derriere). Ever since then I have thought about it. I have wanted more of it. I yearn for it.

The more I think about it, the more I want Him. All of Him, everything about Him. Starting with that spanking. He is a wonderful spanker. Sometimes, He spanks me fast and hard. Other times, He warms me up slowly. Sometimes, it is concentrated on my sit spot. Other times, it is spread over my whole bottom and upper thighs. Always, His hand dips to my wet slit, that is dripping for Him. Always, it brings me to the brink of an orgasm. Every time, He surprises me. Every time, it is exactly what I need. Every time turns me into a puddle of lustful submission. I desire Him, only Him. I want to do anything for Him that He desires. I need to give myself to Him, again and again. No one else makes me feel that good, physically good, submissively good, emotionally good, spiritually good. He elates me, He makes me soar.

I want Him to do it to me...right now!

You consume me

It has been a little over a year that we have been playing together. Yet that is such a poor way to phrase it, as what we do is so much more than play. I am not sure what my expectations were a year ago, I knew I had found someone that gave me an outlet to explore my submission. I knew I trusted Him and felt safe with Him. I did not know that I would become devoted to Him, nor did I expect to be so spiritually fulfilled by our relationship. He has allowed me to connect so deeply with Him and so deeply within myself. I am more whole and complete than I have ever been.

My trust and submission grow more everyday. Even when we are apart, I can feel His presence inside of me. I have given myself to Him, He has the control, but with that He has offered me healing and protection. Each time He takes me just a bit farther and each time I face an internal struggle. The result of each struggle has been surrendering more to Him each time. I have no regrets, He has given me nothing but joy and satisfaction. I have never been so content or fulfilled. I strive to give everything to Him and by doing so I find I have more and more to give. I also find that the more I surrender, the more control I give to Him, the freer I become.

I anticipate the next year together, knowing that I will give Him more than I have this past year, knowing that He will take me farther than this past year. As I become more open, willing and transparent to Him, I sometimes wonder where our evolution and growth will lead us.

I am His, I have offered myself to Him. He has accepted me, He has taken me. I am consumed by His essence.

The trip - part one

A few weeks ago, J had to drive eight hours on a business trip. If the timing had been different, I would have been in the seat next to Him providing distraction and amusement during an otherwise, long and boring trip. Instead, I stayed at home and experimented with some recipes. I made Chicken B'stilla (Moroccan chicken pie) using up what was left of a hand of ginger, as well as tons of other herbs and spices. I must say it smelled and tasted heavenly. Very spicy, savory, and rich, with a combination of sweetness and hotness, a bit of BDSM in a pie.

I enjoy cooking, I use recipes loosely. I like bumping up the flavor, if some spice is good, more is better. I love cutting, chopping, and mixing. However, my mind was far away, fantasizing about being His plaything and a different type of spiciness altogether.

He arrives to pick me up, asking if I was ready to go. I reply in the affirmative, but He tells me that He thinks I need a bit of last minute preparation for the ride. Bending me over the back of the couch, He raises my skirt revealing my ass cheeks bared by my thong. The height of the couch comes to the tops of my thighs. He pushes my shoulders all the way down, until my arms are resting on the couch cushions and my bottom is angled up in the air. Pushing His foot between my feet, He slides my feet apart, spreading my legs and exposing me completely. In this position, with my head down, I cannot see Him, but I feel the sting and hear the slap as He brings His hand hard across my ass. He is spanking me hard and fast, giving me five to ten strokes, then pausing to rub my reddened skin and dip His fingers down into my wet slit. As I begin to grind against His hand, He steps back and resumes the spanking. I lose track of how many strokes He has given me and my ass is on fire with the burn, He pauses again to rub my hot skin and even hotter cunt. His prolonged spanking has left me red and stinging and also wet and needy.

Still in position and unable to see, I hear His belt being unbuckled and slipping from its loops. Anticipating what is coming, I squirm a bit and feel my muscles unconsciously tense. I hear the belt cut through the air and feel it comtact my skin. I cry out and grip the cushions of the couch. The strokes of His belt continue until I am struggling not to pull away. Tears are running down my face and my cunt is dripping down my legs. When my ass is red, stinging and welted, He steps very close behind me, pulling me up, He leans me back against Him and wraps His arms around me from behind. He slides one hand down to my cunt and the other hand slips under my top to my breast. As His fingers close on my nipple and I am pushing hard on His other hand that is rubbing my clit, I feel His teeth close on the curve of my neck. I moan loudly and feel my climax well up inside me, but He tells me not to cum yet. I am shaking and panting as I fight to stop myself from riding the wave of the orgasm that He has begun in me. I am teetering on the edge and I am begging Him. I need His cock, I need Him to bend me back over and fuck me. I need to be filled up with His cock, I need to cum for Him. As I am pleading with Him, He pushes me back over the couch. I hear Him unzip His pants and feel His cock slide against my slit. I try to push back against Him, but He is teasing me. Pushing His cock just inside of me and then pulling back, ever in control. I am crying softly out of need and frustration, I want to scream and demand, but I won't, because I am His to play with in this way. His pet.

He steps back, away from me. He smiles at me and tells me that I am a greedy little slut. I look back at Him and see Him pull a small bag out of His pocket containing a plug carved from ginger. As He pushes the ginger plug into my anus, He promises that I will be able to cum soon. He tells me if the ginger gets too intense, I can remove it, but He thought it would make the trip much more enjoyable for both of us. Especially Him, and isn't that what I wanted? I quietly answer yes, as I kneel before Him and begin to clean my juices from His cock with my tongue. I feel the heat of the ginger spread from my ass to my cunt as I slide my lips all the way down His shaft.

Dependency

I have realized that a true D/s relationship creates a dependency. It fosters a psychological bond between two people. Of course, I can only speak of my own dependency, the need that has been created for me as a sub. I am still pondering if this is a good thing or a bad thing. The dependency, the need that I have, is not a clingy, demanding type of need. It is a component within me, a reliance, a loyalty, a trust. I feel Him within me, His control, His strength, His caring. I am still an independent being, I go through life, I fulfill my responsibilities, I make decisions. Yet, throughout all of that, I connect with His essence. I am aware of Him, I consult with Him (though often only in my mind). I am certainly capable of making decisions on my own, I have done it for years. However, I now consider Him, His input, His opinion. I feel I belong to Him, not in a property sort of way, but as a cherished possession. I am His pet, and being His pet has become part of my identity. He does not dictate to me what I can and cannot do, but He cares for me. It is His voice, His reasoning, that makes me stop and think what is best for me. I have not always done that, I have not always thought about my own well-being. Now, His voice within me tells me to be careful and take care of myself.

My need for Him extends beyond my consideration of self. It extends to my sexuality, my release. I am not sure how, or when, it happened, but my climaxes depend on Him. For Him, I can cum without any physical stimulation, just His voice, describing, coaxing, demanding. This aural stimulation and my resulting climax is different, it is spiritual and holistic. I am still left satisfied, wet, and throbbing, but it originates in my mind and moves to my cunt, rather than the other way around. Without Him, I cannot cum at all. My own touches, my own stimulation leaves me wanting and frustrated. My forays into the area of self-love have to end with His voice within me, telling me to cum now, or it just doesn't happen. At times, that tends to make me a submissive crack whore, jonesing for His drug.

I do sometimes worry about my dependency, I never want it to translate into a stifling need that He feels He must satisfy in me. I want my submission to Him to be a joyful diversion for Him, never a burden or affliction. I know that He takes His responsibility, as my dominant, very seriously. I trust Him completely, I defer to His decisions, but I never want to take advantage of Him. I want my presence in His life to be freeing, not suffocating. My needs and dependency are not meant to stake a claim, but to satisfy needs in both of us. I hope that He always finds my service and dedication pleasing and fulfilling.