Acceptance

I started this blog three years ago.

Sir and i were deeply in love, and i thought we were beginning our story of growing into  our D/s roles more deeply.  With some reluctance, i left a blog that had chronicled my journey up til then.

i left a community that i loved.  i didn’t leave the community because of Sir, but i felt ok about leaving the community because i thought Sir and i were going to have our own world of kink.

Three years later, i’m accepting the reality that we are not going to have that relationship.  Something happened yesterday that really brought that fact home to me. My efforts to reach out across the barriers between us have not been successful.  He doesn’t want to lose me, and he cares for me, but right now he’s not able to put his energy into building our relationship.  And for the last couple of years, he hasn’t been willing to do it.

i love this man with a deep, abiding affection.  But if i try to get my need to be dominated, or my need to be soundly spanked, with him, it is not going to happen.

Today, i accept that.

It’s ok.  It’s not his fault, it’s not my fault.  Things just are the way they are.

So i’m walking away from this blog. This was the blog of our D/s journey, and it’s done.  i’m not leaving him, not leaving my relationship with him.  But he’s not my Sir anymore.

Yes, i’ve told him this.

There will be a new blog.  i will be trying to figure out what the hell i do now.  It may involve some on-line relationships.  i just don’t know.

i feel as if a great weight has been lifted off me.

Once i have the new blog, i’ll come back and post the link, although i don’t know if i’ll leave it up indefinitely.  We’ll see. But that way, anyone who “follows” this blog will have it.

i’ve practically quit reading blogs, it’s made me feel sad, so i avoided a lot.   i imagine i’ll be reading more from here on out.  i look forward to that.

And i love you guys.  <3

 

Back for Some Whine

i don’t know how long it’s been since i’ve been spanked.  Years now, because at my age time slips aways like a melting ice cube in the sun.  And one day it’s all promises and then the next, years have gone by and the promises sit like an unfilled ice tray, neglected and nearly-forgotten.

I came back from an intense retreat this week, not energized, but a bit lost in cloudy thinking and feelings of guilt.  That weight occasionally lifts and I feel like Wonder Woman, which is likely to lead to impulsive acts that may not really be as brilliant as they seem in the moment.  And that leaves me mired in discomfort and uncertainly, tinged with regret .

I read this lovely blogpost by Kia on Acknowledging Imperfection called Discipline by Strangers.  It starts like this:

Sarah took a shuddering breath in response to the gentle prompt, shifting herself slightly as she tried to process the sensation. Her bottom throbbed with a much deeper burn than she had anticipated, and they had only just started. It was agonising, unexpected, but also perfect.

“Count.”

A different voice. Firmer. One that must be obeyed.

“One.” Sarah replied.

“One what?”

“One, Sir,”

“Thank me for them.”

“One. Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

The post continues, and is just lovelier than you can imagine.  It only took me that much to be deeply turned on, and to remember that once-upon-a-time when I didn’t go a day without that feeling.

i need to be spanked, that would lift this cloudiness and rebalance me, i know that it would.  i told Sir that last night, i told him that i missed that feeling so much.  And he just pulled me closer to him in bed and patted my shoulder and went to sleep.

He is my best friend and my support and I love him.  And he’s lost in his own health issues, and his work.  i know he loves me, and i think i will have to go outside the relationship to get the things that i need.

In Kia’s blogpost the girl is being spanked by people she’s just met.  i try to imagine that for myself.  Right now, i think it might be helpful since i’m feeling this “needing to be sorted out.”  There are reasons i can’t just go to a community play party and seek that out.  i’m not sure if i need sex too, or just discipline.

The problem of course is that, like my dear friend Monkey, i don’t think i can participate in getting spanked without submitting to the person doing it – and then attaching to them.  So that’s a problem.  (Maybe not the exact-same-problem as Monkey, but in the same ballpark.)

And i want someone who knows how to spank.  Not someone who just wails away (whales away?) on me, thinking that’s what i want.  i want someone with skill in spanking who can raise and lower the intensity to prolong the experience, who can create a range of sensation, who can push my limits and bring me back from the brink of omgtoomuch..

Yeah, i’m not asking for much, am i?  Particularly given that I’m a 60 year old, overweight, workaholic.

Plus, i need to tell Sir that i’m thinking about this.   i don’t know what he’ll say, but i need to tell him that i have needs that he’s not meeting that i don’t think he’s going to meet and that i need to do something about it.  i figure it’ll take me another 6 months to work up to that.

In the meantime, maybe i need to do what the nuns used to do and try some flagellation.  Right?

imgres

 

In a Strange City

I’m away from home – i’ve been traveling all week.  The city i’m in now – i’ve been here once before, a number of years ago.  i came  here to meet a Dom i’d been talking to on-line.  i liked him a whole, whole lot, and i thought he might be my forever Dom.

He wanted to brand me.  He said he would keep me naked forever so he didn’t forget i was a slave, or maybe it was so i didn’t forget i was a slave.

Or maybe he was just talking trash – who knows.

But i came here to meet him and he met me at the airport with two dozen red roses.  i love roses – corny and trite, but i do.

He spanked me in the car, before we ever got to the hotel.

He had cuffs that were fur lined, and we played all weekend long.

It didn’t work out.  i mean, the weekend did, the weekend was great, but we didn’t last forever.  i don’t remember what happened, not exactly,  Other than the whole”neither one of us had any intention of moving” thing  Plus i think he was still in love with some sub he had before who was no good for him and a whole lot of trouble.

Anyhow.  i was just thinking about him as i went through the airport.

A Day Late and A Cookie Short

I have missed actually participating in The Great Online
Cookie Exchange Extravaganza ~ 2015.  A combination of life challenges – some medical issues for my partner, lots of travel, and lots of other work – have keeping me super busy and distracted and not very holidayish.  {Yes, Jz, “hollidayish” is a word.  Ok, it’s not.  But it should be.}

Anyhow – the extravaganza is happening.  If you didn’t participate – like me – there’s still next year to look forward to.  And right now, you should visit Jz here.  Enjoy all that cookie goodness!

Giving

All my life, i wanted to “give myself” to the man i loved.  Well, since the days that i first loved a man in a sexual way.  i wanted to belong to Him, not quite like property, i don’t think like property, but i wanted to belong to Him completely and to serve and please Him.

i haven’t talked about this, or really thought about it, in a long time.

i wanted Him to hurt me sometimes, if He wanted to, so He would know He could and so i would know that i belonged to Him.  Not to harm me, i didn’t want Him to harm me. because i also wanted Him to love me and care about me.  But i wanted Him to hurt me sometimes so we would know that i belonged to Him and that He could do what He wanted with me.

i didn’t have the words for it, not really, not back so long ago, but long before i knew that D/s was a real thing, i wanted to submit.

Ok, i knew that sadism existed, and masochism, there was Story of O after all.   But that was not what i wanted.  Besides, you know, he leaves her at the end – “releases” her, after he’s scarred her and pierced her, branded her, you would think he’d keep her forever – she belonged to him, – but he didn’t.

Anyhow.  Wanting to give – having a gift to offer – and being rejected is painful for most people.  Sometimes it’s more painful than others.  My first ex wanted a woman who would clean and cook and wash clothes and iron and i did all that, but that’s not my strong suit. His second wife loved doing all that, and fussing over people while she did it, worrying that they weren’t eating enough or didn’t have clean clothes,

That’s not who i am – i mean, i did all that when the kids were little, but it’s just not my strong suit.  Now if you want someone to listen to you and understand your problems, someone who’ll be patient, love your children, and get along with your ex, or someone to do some research, write a letter to the editor, manage the budget, plan a Xmas celebration for 20 people, or worship your cock, then i’m your woman.

Seriously.  If you value someone who’s passionate about social justice, has deep compassion for people who are suffering, and who thinks she’s supposed to make a difference in the world, i might be your woman.

You know, as it turned out, that wasn’t who my first husband wanted, or my second one either, although in fairness, i may not have known who i was back then either.  But i digress.

The sense of wanting to give myself is somehow separate from all that (even though, if you accept what i’m giving, then “all that” is pretty much what you get.)  And i can’t describe the feeling, the longing.  It is something like this:

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”

~~ Anais Nin

Although that’s not quite right either. It’s like the book that one Dom wrote – what was it?  The warrior princess submissive?  Yeah, something like that.

Sigh.  Maybe something like that.

Giving.  The feeling of being totally open and belonging to some one…

Maybe it’s not giving that i want – maybe it’s not “to give myself.”  Even though it feels like that.  Maybe it’s to be accepted.  Maybe i just want my needs met.  (i know, there’s nothing wrong with that, even submissives have needs and it’s ok to want them met.)

Fuck, do i just want to be loved?

But i am loved, i know that.  i am loved.  i want to belong to him, i want to be His.

Bobby’s girl?  is that the deal, i just wanna be Bobby’s girl?

Ok, that just makes me giggle.  Frigging 1962.

Seriously.  There is some part of me that wants to be open and vulnerable and belong to Sir.  i want to love Him and serve Him and obey Him.

i guess i can’t describe it better than that anymore.  Do youall know what i mean?