Monthly Archives: September 2015


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?

Just Interesting

This article is just interesting.   Entitled Why I (A Happily Married Woman) Use A Sex Surrogate,  the author says (in part):

{If I didn’t need sex, …} I could bask in the love that he gives me every day, I could luxuriate in all the ways that he likes to spoil me, I could soak up his affection, and I would be satisfied.

I wouldn’t need to feel desired to stay in shape, to take pride in my body. I wouldn’t feel the loss of libido as the loss of life-force. I wouldn’t feel devalued by my husband’s lack of interest in sex with me.

We love each other too much to divorce. But asking your spouse to stop being sexual just because you have lost your interest is akin to asking them to chop off their leg because you are in a wheelchair. For a fully sexual person to voluntarily lay aside their sexuality for the rest of their lives is asking them to amputate an integral part of themselves. When I have put away my sexuality for the sake of our marriage, I have stopped being the person my husband married.

Pete and I have recently renegotiated our marriage. We tried an open marriage a few years ago, and neither of us liked it. Today, we have a marriage that is “closed with an asterisk.” It is closed, except for when things are not going well with Pete’s health. So I see a man named Harry about once a month. Harry is, for lack of a better term, a volunteer sex surrogate.

and she ends with this:

This is the truth: Our relationship is an epic love story. We are two people with all of the flaws and foibles of our species. What makes our marriage extraordinary is that we love each other so much that we will do anything, including rewriting the rules of our marriage, to stay together.

The way she expresses her feelings about not having sex caught my attention, because it’s the same way i feel about not having D/s or kink.  And of course, their solution is interesting.

Can’t imagine doing it, but it gave me pause.  What do youall think?

P.S. Yes, i am talking more about my wants and needs…

Not Just Sex

Last night, i was involved in a group discussion thing, whcih i was actually supposed to be leading, and it didn’t go very well.  By the end of it, i felt like a complete failure, and i left without talking to anyone and went home all miserable.

Once i got home, i talked about what had happened, and He listened and gave me some perspective, but i went to bed feeling pretty crappy and couldn’t sleep and had to have an orgasm before i could fall asleep.  It was not very satisfying, but it served as enough of a release that i slept.

But i could have used a spanking, i needed to be spanked – either for doing poorly at the event, or for thinking i did poorly, either way would have worked.  i woke up this morning still feeling fairly miserable, and was able to find some peace around the idea that i just failed to do what i intended to do at the discussion, and it’s ok to fail.

Then i talked to some people and their comments suggested that maybe i hadn’t done an awful job after all, maybe it just played out the way it did cause that’s how it went, and maybe that’s ok.  Maybe it wasn’t actually because i’m a failure.  i have just about pulled myself back out of my self-absorbed bullshit frame of mind where it’s pretty much my fault if it rains on somebody’s picnic.

But a spanking would have cleared my mind more quickly, and maybe more completely.  At least i think it would, maybe i’m kidding myself, but no, i’m pretty sure it would have.

i guess i could have asked him to spank me.

Nope.  No, i couldn’t have.  i would have died of shame first.  Nope.  No way, no how.  When i talk to Him about BDSM these days, i feel ashamed.  i don’t think that’s His fault, but it’s how i feel.


But let’s be clear, i’m not real ok these days.  i think i look like i am.  i don’t think you could tell i’m not.  But really, i’m not so much ok, not really.

Still working on figuring out what i need to do …

Let’s Begin…

It starts with spanking.  The desire to be spanked started early for me, and at first i didn’t even question it, didn’t think it was weird.  i was 7?  8 or 9?  Reading books that involved certain kinds of spanking would turn me on.  

Eventually, i figured out that was weird.  

And then there was Story of O, and it was not just spanking that turned me on, but all of it.  Didn’t matter if it was weird or not.

O being made to sit naked on the seat of the car, and later in a restaurant…  O being forced to have sex, over and over.  O being beaten.  

i began to realize that was warped, that “normal” people didn’t like that.  I began to be afraid that those things would happen to me and i wouldn’t like it – in fact, i knew i wouldn’t like it in real life.  Well, not all of it.

So i guess the sexual arousal came first.  The summer i was 13 or 14, i read The Story of O so many time i about wore the book out.  That connection – O being used and orgasms – lasted me through adolescence, early adulthood, and my first marriage.  i don’t think i ever had an orgasm without a BDSM fantasy.

It was not always Story of O.  There were other books.  Some spanking stories, some extreme romances  – but always there had to be an element of control.  The woman had to have been overpowered in some way.  

i remember some of them so vividly – from 40, 45 years ago, they still live in my memory.    i remember one where this woman was dressed up and paraded in front of a bunch of men. They lifted her skirt – she was just wearing garters – and exposed her in the back and then in the front. There was lots of fantasy material in that book.

The one where she was going to leave and he caught her, pulled her over his knee and spanked her.  The humiliation.  The burn as he slapped his hand hard on her ass.  Pulling her panties down, turning her bottom red.
Even now, the thought of it heats me up.  i can feel myself warm and tingling, sitting here in a coffee shop, writing those words.  Getting just a bit wet.  

Whatever else i write, i need to remember this is where it begins.    

Too Stubborn

I’ve been having problems with my knee for a while now.  Well, i’ve had trouble with my knee off and on for many years, but lately, since about the end of July, it’s really been bothering me.

You may know that i believe that some pains – chronic kinds of pain – have symbolic power.  For example, i once had tremendous shoulder pain – so bad i could barely raise my arm – that was cured once i realized i didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on my own shoulders.  Seriously.  So when i have shoulder pain, i focus on figuring out what burden i’m carrying that isn’t mine,  and work on letting it go.

Knee pain?  i believe that some knee pain is connected to not being wiling to bend.  Being stubborn.  I have some old injuries, and more recently i had strained it by carrying some heavy things much more than i was used to.  But there was just no good reason for the discomfort to linger like it did.

I had been trying to ignore it, thinking it would go away eventually.  But ~ sitting at my kitchen table ~ i had a sudden flash of insight.  i suddenly realized how many things i’m being stubborn about.  Things that i don’t want to change and need to change.  Reality i need to accept.

i need to practice more effective self-care.  My fantasy of using kink and D/s to help me do the work i do is a fantasy.  Not going to happen.

If i accept that, then i need to accept that my eating habits involve a lot of comfort eating and bingeing to escape feelings i don’t want to sit with.  So i’m telling my clients to sit with their feelings, and not doing it myself.  And i’m noticing that i get triggered more easily  ~ a rush of “not good enough” shame can swamp me in a minute.  Eating my way back out of it is not really helpful.  Not ultimately.

i need to spend less time on the computer and more time moving around.  My job requires some computer time, and lots of sitting, but nearly as much time as i spend doing it.   My knee would feel better after i moved around for a while, but i didn’t take that hint and spend more time moving around.  Nope.  i would sit at my desk, scrolling aimlessly through FB, ruminating on the woes of life, until my knee would get so stiff and sore i could barely stand.  Too stubborn to recognize how much it was bothering me, too stubborn to make a doctor appointment, too stubborn to even take ibuprofen regularly – even though it helped when i did take it!!


And i’m too stubborn to decide what i’m supposed to be doing with my own wild and precious life.

Unfocused, i wander from one thing to another until i have 35 dangling possibilities, and then i don’t pursue any of them all the way through.  Sometimes, i think that’s ok, but sometimes i think  that with a bit more whole-hearted pursuit, i could have accomplished something with my life.

i’m watching things that i was interested in years ago, things that no one cared about back then, suddenly blossom and move into acceptance, and i wonder, what would have happened if i’d hung in there, kept working on it?

Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
—Mary Oliver

Maybe nothing, maybe that wasn’t where i needed to be.  Who knows?  Too late to find out.  Now people are explaining things to me that i knew about 10 years ago, and no one wants to hear about “back in the day…”

So i move forward, limping on my bad knee, wandering.  Too stubborn to keep telling Sir what i need, not wiling to be more explicit, more clear.  i told him already – he should already know!!  Too stubborn to look for ways to tell him again and again – with love.

i pull away instead, retreat into my hurt, hiding so quietly he barely knows i’m gone.

So, sitting there at the kitchen table, squirming around to try to make  my knee comfortable, i made a mental list of all my stubborn spots, thought about writing this blog post, took some ibuprofen and went to bed.

In the morning, my knee did not hurt anymore.

Yep.  After weeks – probably 6 weeks or more of pretty steady stiff/soreness/swelling.  Didn’t hurt at all.  And really hasn’t since then.  This was at the end of last week, probably 5 days now, free of discomfort.  Without more ibuprofen.

But i think i need to do something about those stubborn spots i found.  Because a couple of days ago, i was standing in the doorway of my walk-in closet, contemplating the absurdity of not having anything to wear with a closet full of clothes, when i turned sideways and suddenly my back hurt!  Lower back.

It doesn’t hurt all the time, just when i sit too long, when i first stand up, it hurts so bad i can barely stand.  Once i move a little bit, it’s ok again.  i’m doing the least i can do to deal with ~ taking ibuprofen sometimes, which works ~ but i think the message is clear.  i need to start making some real change in my life, or i will be all twisted up and unable to stand comfortably.

Grrr, grrrr, grumble, grumble, don’t wanna change, don’t wanna.  i want everyone else to change, please and thank you.

i need to put into words what i want from D/s, and share that with my Sir.  i may practice writing it here, i may use this blog to talk about how i’m going to change… but i think i better start by getting up from this chair and moving a bit first.

So Here’s a Question…

What if – and this is strictly hypothetical, ok?  What if your Dom wanted to demand that you be more romantic?  If he wanted to hold hands more, exchange tender kisses… go out for dinner… cuddle.

No that’s not what’s happening at my house, at least not exactly.  But what if it were?  Could a submissive girl make that work for her?  Could you?  What if he was really commanding about it?

Why or why not?  In 500 words or less, please…