Category Archives: submission

Sir Says No

Yesterday, i worked on house stuff all day, which means i did about 20 times more physical labor than i’m used to.  At the end of the day,  i was exhausted.

Sir had been home for a little bit when i finally stumbled upstairs from the basement.  He was about to come downstairs again {we had already done our ‘welcome home’ hugs} but i noticed He was holding a cup of coffee.  It looked lovely.

It smelled lovely.

i say, “Coffee.”

“Yes,” He says.  i’m feeling a bit guilty because He fixed His own coffee, but more than that, i want some.

“You fixed it yourself,” i say.

“Yes,” He says.  “I would have fixed you some, but it’s too late for you to have coffee.  You won’t sleep.”

“But ~ i want some ~ i can fix ~”

“NO,” He says firmly.  “It’s 8:00.  It’s too late for you to have coffee.  You won’t sleep.  Have a glass of wine if you like, but no coffee.”

i wanted to huff, i wanted to protest, i wanted to fix coffee,… but damnit.  He’s right.   O, i would have gone to sleep, but i would have been awake about 2 or 3 a.m., lying there unable to go back to sleep.


Obeying Him in this small thing, particularly since He’s right,  probably seems like no big deal to youall.  But ~ well ~

i guess i must be an unusually stubborn, willful hag most of the time, because i can think of times when i would have said, “Nuh-uh,” and proceeded to fix myself a cup of coffee.   i don’t know if it’s submission or just common sense that allows me to accept His stance.

But in either case, i bite back my defiance and say, “Yes, Sir.”  And sleep til almost 6:30 this morning.


So i don’t know how i became one of those bloggers who doesn’t answer comments.  i never thought that would be me, but here i am.  And i LOVE comments.

Starting today, i’ll do better.  i can’t promise to catch up anytime soon, but i’ll start staying on top of it, instead of feeling guilty about not having already answered older comments…

Thinking Outloud

Sir was busy all day Saturday {while i was being  lazy} and i was busy all day yesterday, so i still don’t know what menu we’re He’s creating on the paper we’re going to clip to the clipboard.  So who knows when i’ll find out what that’s about.

In the meantime, my desire for more discipline has faded.   Or maybe it’s just moved to the back burner.  In any case, it’s no longer pressing at me.

There’s often a tension between my longing for a life of strict discipline ~ yes, like my training school fantasies, where i’m controlled to the max ~ and a life of flowing through the universe with gentle compassion for myself and others.  i’m not sure they’re mutually exclusive visions, so maybe my life is about trying to find the balance.

Anyhow, in my “i want more discipline” phase, i got a link to a website that fascinated and intrigued me.  Watchfulness:  A Community of Women.

It’s an enticing site.  i felt drawn to it, and on edge, a little nervous.  i spent days exploring the public parts of it, and discussing it with friends and with Sir.  i’m still not sure what i think of it.

It makes me feel “darkly and richly female,” from the Anais Nin quote:

“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.”

And it seems to offer a community that would support my desire to be more controlled, to live up to my own standards and expectations for myself.  But ultimately, i decided that wasn’t the path for me.

This post ~ Ducks on a Pond ~ by Sir Raven had a strong impact on me.  Sir Raven is jade’s Master ~ youall know Jade.  Jade and i had been talking about our respective Masters, and had speculated that they are less concerned about making sure we’re working on improving all the time than we are. That they’re more comfortable with just letting things coast.

Sir Raven writes that slaves:

“…need to see movement. since they are always, moving. From the outside one can say that her service to me to which serves the dynamic is visible. That same one can say that from the outside my part of serving the dynamic is not visible. Like the duck on the pond, where people are looking at the duck and saying “oh look how the ducks are floating on the pond?” No one ever says “damn those ducks must be paddling their asses off under the water to move so gracefully.”

I’m not speaking for all masters, but the ones I know are always thinking, of how they want to and which direction they want their dynamic to move.

That made me think.  i really appreciate the reminder that i’m not aware of every thought Sir has about our dynamic and don’t need to be.

Trust.  i need to trust Him.   Not try to work around Him.  Ok.  Got it.

But the other thing that shifted my mind was this comment from another friend.  She says:

So here’s what is fascinating to me.  You have found a Dom/Sir who is, and granted, this is just second-hand observation based on your writing, happy with you as you are.  I am so thrilled for you, and truth told, a tiny bit maybe envious.  This relationship took time, and built, and we got to see a glimpse of the sweetness (and struggle) of the relationship in your blog words.  And I’m not sure I’m capturing this, but one of the most interesting parts (with a dash of humor and a bit of cuteness) is that he loves you just as you are, and the you that you are (that he loves) is still searching for more accountability or standards or whatever you are calling it.  So he loves you for what you are, and what you are is searching to improve and be – different?  I am not sure I’ve captured the essence of what makes me smile about this, and different may be the completely wrong word, but this juxtaposition it is interesting and endearing and tickles my funny bone.  (I hope that is not offensive – it isn’t meant to be.)

Well, it didn’t offend me at all, it made me laugh, and i got it.  Sir was amused too, and saw the delightful irony of it.

Sometimes i think that it would be easier if i had something outside me driving me to be better, to work harder, to push myself more.   i think i want that external control and validation.  i think i want to give up more control of myself, be more contained.   i think i want a bunch of rules to check off a list so i know i’m a good girl.

But i don’t guess that’s really the kind of discipline i need.

For real, i need to keep developing who i am.  i need to keep being the flawed seeker,  looking for what i’m supposed to do next and how i’m supposed to do it, wandering down strange pathways and having adventures along the way.

Today, i am content to do that.   Today anyhow.


i want to sit at His feet

to taste His cock

to lean my head on his knee

while He strokes my hair.

i want Him to tell me

Bend over

to stroke me with His belt

sensually, with passion,


until i have slipped into that space

of only here and now.

i want His hands on me

gentle, rough, i don’t care

a touch that ignites or soothes

that makes me gasp, cry out, whimper

and moan.

i want.

In the Night

Pulled close to Him, naked, half asleep…

my back to him,

my breasts exposed for His touch…

His hands caress me.

Not the gentle touch of my lover,

Not the loving touch of my life partner


His hands possess me, mark me His

as surely as a branding iron.

Thought for the Day – 4/10

“There are two kinds of strengths: the strength to lead, and the strength to follow; the strength to control, and the strength to yield. There are two kinds of power: the power to strip another’s soul bare, and the power to stand naked. Do not mistake following for weakness, for it is not. Do not mistake yielding for weakness, for in yielding there is resilience. Do not mistake the submissive’s need for relatedness for inability to be alone. Submissive women are not weaklings. They are sensitive people who have a great deal of resilience in the face of their particular challenges. Submissiveness is a strength seeking a proper context.”
— Yalda Tovah, “The Healthy Submissive”

i haven’t heard of this person, or this book before – has anyone else?  There is more here and perhaps it is a blog and not a book?  i don’t have time to look for more right now, or even to research what i’ve found… but i love this paragraph and the other bits and pieces i had a chance to look at.  If you know more, share with us, ok??

Yes, But…

Sin asked me a couple of questions yesterday about my post – did i want Sir to be different, the relationship to be different, or myself to be different?  Good questions.  {Thank you, Sin, for making me think twice yesterday.}

Then she noted that i sound really happy, which is super true.

So, sometimes i think i want to be dominated more fiercely, to have rules i have to adhere to or i’m in big trouble, to have restrictions and requirements.  But.

i think my Sir is perfect just the way He is, and perfect for me.  And my life is going really well.  And really, really, i don’t know that it could be any better than it is.

So when i think about it later, i’m like, um, no, maybe not.

i don’t have particular rules in mind that i wish He’d impose on me, i think i want Him to want to impose some rules on me, but ones that HE wants, not just because i ask Him to make some up.

But if He doesn’t, then that’s how He is, and isn’t He the one that gets to set the rules for our relationship?  Yeah, i’m pretty sure that’s how that works.

Which means it’s up to me to serve and please as best i can.  Like last night, when i didn’t really want to stop at the grocery on the way home, but He wanted ice cream, so i stopped.   No complaining either, i just did it.

That is not as much fun as having my orgasms controlled.  Maybe.  But do i really want them controlled?  Probably not.

See what i’m saying?

We are both kind of “go with the flow” people.  He’s very zen.   Why would i want to change that about Him?

“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image.”
― Thomas MertonThe Way of Chuang Tzu

Power Exchange

i think that my relationship with Sir is more than kinky, more than in the bedroom.  i think we have a power exchange, and i want that.  But i am so comfortable these days.

i’m not sure if that’s because we’ve settled into being together so nicely that the relationship fits me like a glove, or if it’s because He’s so easy-going that it’s too easy.

i know, i’m back to that again.

The problem ~ ok, it’s not a problem ~ the thing is, He’s so easy-going, and i’m pretty low-maintenance, so He makes few demands, and i don’t mind conceding when He asks me too.  He doesn’t have to control my money, or my activities, or my moods.  He doesn’t have a list of rules and restrictions.

Which is all good, yes of course it is, i know that.

It means we flow through our days ~ and nights ~ with pleasure and connectedness.  Driving home yesterday, i was floating in happiness, grateful that i was going home to Him.

And yet.

And yet.

There is something in me that wants more.  More of the quick drop on the roller coaster.  More of that sense of being powerless.  More of Him taking, demanding, ordering.

i am a greedy girl.


i wrote the first part of this yesterday evening, while Sir was out and about:

Sir says that i have a spanking fetish.

i think He’s right.

i’ve always been turned on by spanking – at least by thinking about it.  Reading about people getting spanked turns me on.

And well, yes, the real thing does too.

Some of my favorite fantasies are punishment fantasies.  Details may vary ~ where i am, what i’ve done, what i get spanked with.  i may have to get naked, i may just have to pull up my skirt.  Other people may be watching, or not.  i may have to count or say Thank You.

There may be a complex story line, or not much of one.

There are bits of fantasies that float in my head.

i am getting punished, turned over the arm of the couch, naked.  The door bell rings.  Much to my horror, my husband answers the door, .

It’s the neighbors – her husband has been talking to mine, and he – the neighbor – wants to learn about spanking as a tool of discipline.  He’s brought his wife to see how it works.

They come in and he and my husband talk about it some more, while i wait, bent over the arm of the couch.   When they’re through talking, my husband demonstrates on me.

Then he sends me to the corner while he and the neighbor demonstrate how it works on the neighbor’s wife.

That’s just the outline of course.  There are details.  What they say to each other.  What he uses to spank me. What the wife says.  Whether he lets the other husband spank me.  Lots of things.

i don’t want it to really happen. Trust me, i really don’t.  The spanking, yes, but not the neighbors part.

Eve though Sir says i have an exhibitionist streak, and i guess he’s right, but it’s mostly in my imagination.

i like spanking scenarios better when it’s punishment of some sort rather than if it’s for my pleasure.


i got that far, and then Sir came home and i got sidetracked.   When i was ready to go to bed, Sir told me to go ahead and get ready and He’d come tuck me in.  But before i even started brushing my teeth, He came in the bedroom and was rooting through the toy drawer.

“Whatcha doing?” i say.

“Getting this,” He says, wielding our big wooden paddle.

“O,” i say, toothbrush frozen half-way to my mouth.

“Go ahead and get ready for bed,” He says, a bit impatiently.

“Yes, Sir,” i say, but then i can’t resist.  “How come we never use our flogger anymore?”

“The flogger?  I don’t know where it is,”  but i can hear Him rooting around for it while i brush my teeth.  When i come out, He’s got a fine assortment of instruments laid out on the bed.

He has me lie, face down, on the bed and starts with the flogger.  Ahhh, i love the flogger.  Particularly this one, it’s one He made a long time ago, and it’s just lovely.

Then the belt, the one He gave me, which is a wide leather belt, and hurts more than the flogger, but in such a lovely way.  And i’m all warmed up from the flogger, so i can take it.

Then there’s a thin wooden stick, that stings like a you-know-what, but by then, i don’t care.  When He ends with the big, huge paddle, i’ve drifted off into subspace ~ fully aware of what’s happening and what i’m feeling, but in a happy place about it all.

So maybe i was wrong when i said i like punishment scenarios better, maybe that’s just in fantasy.  Cause last night was just lovely.

Thank you, Sir.

Things that Could Happen

Sofia is on the computer, as she so often is.

Sir is coming down the hall ~ He enters the study.

“Sofia,” He says.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” she says, barely glancing up.  She doesn’t notice the look on His face.

His voice is mild.  “Are you working on something important?” He asks.

“No, Sir,” says says, still typing, “Just making a comment on this post on Facebook.  Nothing important.”

“Stop,” He says.

“Ok, but ~ ” she looks up then.

He’s watching her, intently.  She can’t read the look on His face.  Not angry, no, but stern, maybe?  Solemn?

“Yes, Sir?” she says, one eye still on the computer.

“Who am I?” He asks.

“Who are you?” she’s a bit baffled.  “Why, you’re Sir, of course,” and she smiles.  “My Sir.”

But He doesn’t smile back, and now she’s a little nervous.  “Right?” she says. “My Sir, um, my Master?”

He nods, “Yes,” He says.  “And who are you?”

“Your submissive,” she says, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, Sir,” she says earnestly, “You, of course, Sir.”

He nods, His face softening a bit.  “Yes, you do.  You belong to me.  So when I say ‘sofia,’ what do you think i want?”

“My ~ oh,” her face falls as she realizes where this is going, “My attention, Sir.”  It is a whisper.  “You want my attention.”

“If you’re in the middle of something important,” He says, “A work thing, or something you’re writing, I can understand it taking a minute for you to refocus.  But Facebook?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, quckly in a rush, “i’m so sorry, i wasn’t thinking, i really am sorry.”  And she is.  This is the man she loves, her Master, who gives her so much and is patient and loving and really, she really is sorry.

And He knows that.  So He smiles, “I know.” He says.  “it’s ok.  I know. So drop your pants.”

“Oh!” she flushes then, she feels the red in her cheeks and her neck, but He is watching and there is no argument to make.

She stands and reluctantly pulls her pants down.  The air is cool on her ass, and her pussy is bare too.

“Go get the paddle, please,” He says, “and bring it to me.”

“O, but ~ yes, Sir,” she says, clutching her pants with one hand as she heads down the hall.

“Scurry!” He says, and she moves faster, grabs the paddle and hurries back, still holding her pants in the appropriate place.

“Good girl,” He says, taking the paddle.  “Now let go of the pants and bend over.”

There is really only one place to “bend over” in the study ~ a two-drawer wooden file cabinet ~ so she bends at the waist. placing her elbows on the top of the cabinet.   The cabinet only reaches to her thighs, so her torso is lower than her hips.  Her ass seems very exposed.

He puts a hand on the back of her neck and pushes her head down.  This seems to raise her ass further.  With one foot, he nudges her to spread her legs wider.

“Seven,” He says.  “And each time I want you to say ~ no,” he pauses, “You tell me what you’re going to say.  What are you going to do differently from now on?

“Pay attention, Sir,” she says.  Her voice seems muffled with her face down, away from Him.    “i will pay attention.”

“Let’s make sure you’ve got it right,” He says.  “Here’s one for practice.”

The paddle lands with a thud, and she bites her lip.  “I will pay attention, Sir,” she says.

“Very good,” He says, “But what about ‘thank you, Sir?’  Aren’t you always supposed to say that?”

“Yes, Sir,” her voice trembles.

“Let’s try another practice one,” He says, “This one doesn’t count either.”


The paddle lands, and she almost jumps, but doesn’t, and “Thank you, Sir!” she says it quickly, “i will pay attention!”

“Much better,” He says.  “Now we can begin.  This will be One.”


Theoretically, that could happen at my house, but it doesn’t.  Not because i’m always as attentive as i could be, but because Sir doesn’t hold me accountable for things like that.  i’m not sure He notices, really.   If He does, He hasn’t said anything.

But it’s important to me that i’m attentive to Him.   So i do try to be.  i try to look up and attend to Him when He’s talking, try not to be distracted by other things.  i guess i feel like it’s a rule.

But it’s my own rule.  He doesn’t enforce it.  Probably doesn’t even know it’s my rule.

So if it matters to me, i have to enforce it, live up to it, myself.  Sometimes, i wish He’d be responsible for more things like that, but He’s probably not going to, i don’t think He even thinks that way, i don’t think He would say to Himself, “she needs to pay attention to me when i speak!”

But i think it’s important.  i don’t know if that’s submissive, or just a way to show love and respect.

Or maybe i just want more spanking.  It’s hard to say.


Sometimes i feel like a puppy.  Like i’m bouncing around Him, going, “pet me, pet me, PLEASE per me!!”

Like i got to be up under His feet all the time.  Not like the cats are under our feet ~ just lying there ignoring us ~ or walking in front of us, winding around our feet as if they somehow don’t know we’re there.

No, i want to touch Him, press against Him, wrap my arms around Him.

He likes it.  When He comes home from work, i hug Him and i don’t want to let go, He says, “Here, let me take my coat off and then you can hug me all you want to.”

When we sit next to each other, in our study, i swivel my chair so i face Him, and scoot closer so His knee is between my thighs.   Then i lean into Him, and kiss His neck.

He pats me and pets and strokes me for a long time.

At night, He tucks me up under Him and i snuggle safe and secure.


But sometimes, i feel like a bird.  Caged at night, not unhappy, but safe.  In my little cage, covered for the night.

In the morning, He lets me out, and sends me out into the world.  He takes me in His hands and releases me. i fly off singing, busy looking for worms, perching in trees, chattering with other birds.

As dusk falls, i head home.  Happy with my adventures of the day, eager to see my handler again.

And at the end of day, he opens the cage door, and i fly in.  Safe and secure.


It is an odd image for me, the bird.  i don’t know where it came from, but i feel it.