Sunday, July 29, 2012

calm, swapping fretting for following

I feel it falling over me. The calm filling me.

Its takes some days, but in those days following time spent with Local D there is something inside me that changes. It is never immediate, never in an instant. Like all good things it grows and then overtakes me.

It was difficult to pinpoint at first, but now I recognise it as the calm. I am settling. The fear is falling away and after just a few meetings I can say I am not afraid of wanting what I want. I don't have to be careful with what I wish for anymore. I can kneel and give him what he needs from me. I can give to him without fear (and I have had a lot of fear and anxiety about the unknown). I am beginning to give away fretting, swapping it for following as a wise man once said I must. I am not giving it away consciously, it is just falling away. It is subsiding, leaving the shore like an ocean tide retreating in the moons pull.

I am craving his grip more and more. I ache to be on my knees at his feet. Being who I am. Being who I need to be. My breasts, my body, my cunt, my face, my mouth, my eyes, my tongue presented for him. The calm in this place stays with me outside the room. Finally finding me. Finally finding my place. I am happiest on my knees, my wrists tied, my ankles restrained. Unmoving, waiting for his bidding.

photographer unknown


Friday, July 27, 2012

happy birthday baby

She lay on her bed alone but surrounded by him. She lay panting. Clover clamps draped over her torso and the redness and pain from their bite still fresh. Mr Buzzy magic wand lay between her thighs, her hand gripped tightly to steer. The phone in her hand lay beside her. He was away and this was her birthday.

She had put the clover clamps gingerly on each nipple inside her bra. A present for him, after all this was her birthday.

Her text read:
I have the clamps on my nipples for you. Inside my bra. 
I am breathless from the pain. I am excited. Wet.
This is my present to you from me for my birthday.
She had no sooner pressed send than her phone rang in her fingertips. It was him. He had not had time to read the text and in fact didn't know she had sent it, but they had an uncanny thing between them and this sort of timing was not unusual. She knew there had been this connection and it no longer surprised him when she demonstrated she knew exactly what he was thinking. He just needed to work harder at switching horses midstream to keep her on her toes.

She told him what the text had said.

"Undress."

He demanded she get the wand.
He demanded she cum for him.

"Take one clamp off at a time. When you cum take  the left off first."

He spoke in his growl. He called her slut. He reminded her she would cum. She had no choice.

As she came she released the clamp. The timing was perfect there was little pain...at first! Then she screamed with the pain that surged through her left nipple, spreading out across her body to meet the ripple of her orgasm.

"Again..fuck it."

She tried hard, the distraction of the clover's bite was making it hard for her to come. She whinged her discontent.

"Do it NOW Slut."

Again she came releasing the right clamp. Her timing was off this time. The pain was intense. She screamed her ecstasy into the phone. She knew the power her cries had over him. She knew he was hard for her. She loved that she could have that effect on him from another part of the country. The intense pain in her nipple subsided but the burn remained. Wave after wave of her orgasm left her panting and spent.

"Happy Birthday Baby" and after a small pause, "You may use the wand as much as you like today, after all, it's your birthday."

property of photographer (unknown)

Thursday, July 26, 2012

deeper

I am very tired tonight.

He sent me home with the kiss of the flogger on my skin, strips of leather imprinted across my bottom. His hand and a  small paddle with three hearts on it leaving their evidence of his presence. He has sent me home with the nipple clamps in my pocket. The bite of the clover is a struggle for me. He has sent me home with no instruction, just an insistence that I take them. They jangle in my pocket as I walk (gingerly, though not from what that might imply) to my car.
There have been changes in me the most earth shattering, I have gone from not being able to entertain the word Sir to using it (a lot).

"Yes Sir, No Sir, Three bags full Sir! Jump Sir? How high Sir?"

It almost feels natural, almost. I have lost the ability to call him by his name. I have not been able to use his name for a long time but until now there has been nothing to replace it. (remember..not a 'good' sub).  He gauged me well, he never insisted on Sir, Lord or Master, not like some.

"Call me what you want to call me. It doesn't matter. It will come when it does."
I am feeling a little more of what might be described as 'his girl'. Could it be because the secret tryst is drawing me in. Arse up restrained with a bar fastening my ankles, hands reaching through and back between by legs, you know the position. An under bust corset. Breasts hanging pressed against the same surface my face lay on. Panting. He made me cum with Mr Buzzy. His tongue doing unspeakable things to my exposed arse *shy blush and eyes down cast*. He made me cum  like the roaring forties after begging his permission, calling for Daddy!  The kinky lil bitch comes out to play when unspeakable things done to her body and mind.

property of  photographer (unknown) sourced from the interweb

Sunday, July 22, 2012

cherry pop

"You need to learn self control."

She did as instructed placing her feet with the 5 inch heals in front of him on the bench on which he sat. He fastened a black leather cuff to her left and then her right ankle. Her breath quickened.

"Kneel."

She offered her wrists one at time for the cuffs to be fastened by Sir.

"Hands behind your back."

She complied.

He worked expertly using a small black leather hogtie with silver metal O rings to first clip her ankles together. Her wrists were clipped together and then fastened to the ankles. There wasn't very much wriggle room afforded by the small black leather crossed tie in her kneeling position but she managed to rise up on her knees, her thighs stretched apart to expose her growing wetness.  As she rose the curve in her back pushed her naked breasts forward to him. Her nipples were instantly hard nubs inviting him to pinch and pull them between his sandpaper rough finger tips.

He loved her in this position, helpless, to use her as he wished. Before that fun though she needed to learn self control. She needed to understand that he was in control of her orgasms and that she was not. She had given him that and now she needed to learn what that meant.

He pulled out her favourite toy. The magic wand could make her cum withing a minute and if he held it against her little button she didn't stop, not until she was a puddled mess begging him to please please please stop. He usually did not.

She was wet, hot and already excited but almost jumped out of her skin when she saw her friend in a box. The buzzy magic wand.

"I am going to play with you."

She smiled broadly at this.

"You are to keep your head up. You are to stay up on your knees. You are not to make a sound. If you drop your head you will received these."

Before her face he dropped the clover clamps on their chain from the palm of his hand. He laid them gently on the bench beside him. The cold metal glinted in the dim light

Her smile began to fade...

The wand buzzed with her favourite sound and in one motion he pressed it against her clit. The warmth spread through her entire body as the energy built. She could feel it rise to an excruciating level.

"Fuck it."

She did as he bade her, rubbing her hot wet fleshy cunt on the vibrating bulb. She went into near ecstasy as he turned the switch to its highest setting.  He brought her close, well within the minute. She had not come for over a week, nearly two, at his instruction. He knew just how desperate his slut was to cum. Just how much of a whore she needed to be.

"Do you want to cum slut?"

Working hard to keep her head up and avoid the bite of the clover she nodded. Her eyes pleading with him as her pelvis worked to fuck the machine.

"Well?" He demanded.

In one breath she almost shouted, "May I come please Sir, please, please?" Her voice was desperate and on edge.

He paused for a moment and then he pulled the buzzing instrument away from her aching cunt.

"No slut, I don't think so. We are going to work on your self control today."

She screamed her frustration, her eyes became wide and she tried to calm her need to let the convulsions rise from her cunt to ripple like a tsunami across her body.

The afternoon was spent in this way, one cycle after another. In subsequent cycles he didn't remove the buzzy beast instead keeping it firmly in place demanding she "fuck it" all the while denying her his consent for relief. He drove the temptation of her physical nature with the deep vibration.  He had always know this machine was her Waterloo. It was just the right vibration, the right frequency and torque to pull from her that primal cry that made him hard for his girl. She was close to tears after an hour (she supposed), promising she had learned self control. Into the second hour (she thought) she promised all her orgasms to him. She promised to be a good girl. She'd promise him anything in the hopes he would allow her the relief she needed. Her cunt ached, her shoulders ached, her knees tiring and her thighs had begun to quiver weakened by his torture.

The kinky lil slut loved his torture though. She knew he loved her to come and she couldn't see how he could deny her for very much longer, she just needed to learn her lesson first. At least she hoped he would let her come. She just needed to know her place. As the sweat rolled down her brow, she began to fear that maybe he would not allow her to come before christmas.

She hoped for Easter at least.





Saturday, July 21, 2012

lesson learned

I have been to see Local D today..damn I needed that. All the stress and fretfulness has fallen away with the laughter and tears.

was punished for  a couple of  infractions over the previous two weeks (post to follow). It didn't feel half as bad as the disappointment I caused him and the reason he had decided to punish. I still think he is taking it easy on me. He shows glimpses of things to come but I really believe he thinks the slowly slowly approach is best. I do have a tendency to run and panic if things get a bit overwhelming.

He said we needed to work on my self control. I had induced the big O a couple of times when I was supposed to NOT. It was a surprise to me that he had decided, quite out of the blue, to instruct me not to come. Not to touch myself. Not to wear panties..and did I mention not to touch myself? I was not to come or do any of these things for a week! We have not explored very much outside physical play dates. Truth be told I have kept him at arms length. After our second time in the dark room however, he had decided to reach outside the room into my everyday life.

The first week went almost marvelously, I got to day 6 when I found myself dreaming quite hot and real. I could feel the legs of some unknown woman under my tongue and mouth. I could feel her arse between my teeth. Her nipple brushed my cheek as I put my mouth on hers. HERS! She was apparently a shape shifter and shifted into an anonymous man with razor like whiskers that grazed my soft face. He fucked me hard as I opened wide for him. My cunt pulsing and begging his cock to take me. I was on the edge of cumming when I woke. I tried desperately to get back to sleep. I wanted to cum. Of course it was a futile attempt and as the dream slipped further away my pussy pulsed and ached. My hand traveled to the heat between my thighs, too weak to resist I needed to come. Thinking I'll deal with the consequences tomorrow, cum I did, hard. I slid back into sleep thinking of telling Local D of my infraction but with a smile of satisfaction firmly across my mouth.

I should explain for the record that I have embraced my sexuality in such a way that it is not often long between drinks for me. I cum loud and I cum often and orgasm control is not something with which I have any practical experience.

I reported to Local D the I had failed and told him the circumstances.

'Hmmm. Well I didn't think you would be able to do it. Now you realise there will be consequences. A punishment.'

Yes I realised it.

'To start with you will not cum until the 16th.'

'The 16th! That's over a week away!'

'Yes it is. On the 16th when we meet again, I will decide if you can cum then. There will be other punishments at that time.'

'A week!'

I could feel the panic rising and my world begin to spin. No really, I could. All of a sudden I laid out my life in front of me. This is about the time I am told I think too much. I made the calculations. If he only lets me orgasm once every two weeks, I will only come 26 times a year! I will lose functionality of my come button. I will be wrapped in cobwebs. I will shrivel and die. Yes yes dear reader I am laughing about that now, in fact I have a huge smile across my face just thinking about it. But the screaming panic was growing and I began, quite significantly, to spin out.

I talked to Daddy, Marvellous Mentor and it was clear I wasn't going to get any sympathy there. He displayed the suck it up princess (with love) kind of attitude even going as far as teasing me about not being allowed to come. Eventually I got myself in such a state that I came again, only two days after the first infraction, under very questionable circumstances. I wondered if there was a part of me that wondered what the consequences would be this time? A very big part of me though thought whats the point of this if I can only come 26 time a year!

The consequences were dire. He was disappointed. Very. He withdrew all control.

'Do what you want. You can decide. You can make the decisions. You can come when you like, you can wear panties and choose them.'
I was frankly devastated (the drama queen came out). I felt keenly his rejection. I had disappointed him. The sub girl had struggled with her submission over this issue. I had pushed the boundaries. I had pushed back at him. I had not trusted that he was not going to subdue my sexuality and let me come only 26 times in the year ahead. I had failed in a huge way and put it all at risk. In that moment I realised I wanted his control. I wanted to please him inside and outside the room.

So what did the sub girl do?  She refused to follow his instruction again! She told him that she was not going to wear panties and she was not going to come until the 16th! and there wasn't a thing he could do about it! I think she even said 'so there!'

That week the sub girl didn't come and didn't wear panties (the panties thing is not so hard). He took back control but made it clear that there would be two punishments and as an aside, he postponed the 16th and pushed everything further away to the 20th! Grrr. The sub girl learned a lesson though. She learned she wanted to be right where he had her. She learned not to panic and spin because he was going to look after her. She learned too, not to come until she was told to come.

All this and still she had the time to think about the punishment to come on the 20th.

Photographer-Helmut Newton



Friday, July 20, 2012

awaiting punishment

There have been infractions. I have been ill behaved (a recurring theme: not a 'good' sub girl. The sub girl struggle continues).

As a consequence there is to be punishment meted out.

The sub girl has no idea what this means. She is nervous, she is excited and a little scared. She knows that he knows she doesn't like the nipple clamps. She knows He loves the nipple clamps on her.

There is nothing quite as anxiety inducing as a disappointed Dom with clover clamps hanging from His fingertips and He's not in the least afraid to use them.

Does He realise though that His disappointment has more than punished her? Yes He does. He loves that she has given Him a reason. His sadist is rising and aching for release. She willingly accepts the sadist and His dark desires.

She is a punishment virgin. She has really never been punished. She is a rule follower and He has been tolerant of her infraction borne of naivety, but no longer. Her time has run out. Her punishment cherry will be heard to pop today.
Source: Interweb property of the photorapher (unknown)




Sunday, July 15, 2012

fantasy of shame

First up I want to say this post is about me and my fantasy. I do not trivialise the pain of real life non-consensual rape in any way. This is an exploration of my own psyche. Part of my journey. I considered not posting it..but it is something that has been in me forever and as this is my journal..blah blah blah

I feel some sense of shame in fantasising about a rape scenario. I have known throughout my life that I have been excited by the fantasy of being overwhelmed, forced sexually. The relinquishing of sexual control is something base, something primal and is fundamental to my core. It horrifies me because at the same time I fear it as a real experience. There is a real and palpable contradiction in the need to live it and a recoil from it that is so extremely visceral in nature. It is interesting too that the picture I have attached was chosen to bring some distance between my fantasy and my fear of the act. To pull the act away from the reality of harm which is intrinsic to the act itself.

As a very young woman in my early twenties I cared for an 82 yrs old woman who had been raped by a young intruder in her home. It was beyond my capacity to understand this at the time and in truth I don't understand it now. I was appalled and heartbroken for the woman. To be harmed in this way. To be frightened by the experience. She was more circumspect. She had 60 years of experience in the world on me. She had lost her idealisations of the world and people and she was not as upset by this violation as I was upset for her. I am beginning to understand that though I have another 40 (or maybe a bit less :) ) years to fully understand. She had brought up her family, her life was mostly behind her and the importance of her control over her sexuality was not the same as it was for me in my 20's. Is that a product of my upbringing, my mother's needs instilled in me?

I think it strange and confusing the awareness that I want any act to be consensual ...so how is that rape? I'm still figuring that out! The more I consider the contradiction the more clearly I see that it comes back to control. My need to relinquish control. Wanting control to be wrested from me. I have no interest in injury caused to me during this act of sexual assertion and aggression. I have no interest in it happening to me in a random undetermined way (I won't even get into a Taxi by myself, or walk down a street in the dark!).  The thought of being overwhelmed physically, dominated by a stranger, acquaintance or friend however, stirs something in my primal femaleness that is hard to ignore.

detail - Rape of Proserpina -Gian Lorenzo Bernini,1621 - 1622 (Bernini was 23 years old! as an aside)

Saturday, July 14, 2012

sooky sub girl

When I went in search of a Dom man to lead me through this clouded maze of need and desire, I thought he'd be a man experienced in the art of spanking, Domination and control. I never dreamed he would have access to an adequately equipped 'dungeon'. This is the first word that clattered in my brain. DUNGEON! I screamed silently inside my head. Is he for real? Oh yes! most decidedly, though I never heard that word again. It was the dark room which I kind of liked because it was both dimly lit and dark things to sate dark desires lived there. After my very first visit to the room I began to call it the quiet room. It is exceptionally quiet. No sounds come in..and I expect the reverse might be true.

I am new to this. Oh I have been thinking and playing online, exploring in cyber and dabbling with non-Dom for a while. I didn't have the courage though (or the permission from non-Dom) to step forward into the light and follow the darkness inside. So given the opportunity to bend to the will of Local D, I am learning. I am accepting. I am trying hard to be that good girl we all seek to be, but there are some things I am sooky about (some might be an understatement).

I have to say...I hate the 20! (explanation to follow). I am not fond (really not fond) of the nipple clamps. Someone wrote once to me to avoid clover clamps at all costs, to start with something less daunting. All well and good until one comes across a man with clover clamps hanging from his belt and who is not in the least afraid to use them. I have discovered a fear of the crop, well the handle of the crop really not the little soft leather end that drags across hot pink skin and soothes the sting. Anyway you get my drift. I am experiencing so much paraphernalia my mind and senses are exploding.

I might hate all these things and be a bit sooky about them but I note an undeniable attraction to them, a need for them to caress and sting my flesh. Here's where my sick little bitch comes out to play. I'm not sure if I want him to hurt me, to cause pain because I am not aware that I particularly like the hurt and pain. It's something I endure. It delights him to see me squirm. It even delights him to hear me lose control and call him a 'cruel bastard' as he removes the nipple clamps or rips a row of particularly grippy pegs away from the flesh biting on my breasts. (oh yes I never thought I would be doing the pegs!). It delights him too to sooth the hurt afterward.

So the sooky girl feels her sook often (I never said I was good at this sub stuff, in fact I struggle with it and wonder if I really am submissive in one way or another almost daily).

In the quiet room when the flogger hits and it hurts there is laughter. As it goes further I am quieted. 'Stick you bottom out' he says as I curl it under, involuntarily hiding his target from the kiss of the flogger. The bottom complies. I quiet even more. Then I am aware there is no sound, a small moan or whimper as the flogger gets harder. I am aware that I only feel the hard connection. I know it is hard because my whole body is moved forward by the thump of the flogger on my arse. My mind is thinking but my mouth and my body go quiet. I love this feeling.
Then later...
'I am going to give you 20 and you will count. If you miss one we will start again.'

I hate the 20. It's hard to get to the end. I am a little distressed by the end. The flogger has been going for so long before the 20 and I have been OK, but when I have to count the final 20 it is hard to get to the end without tears. It seems that by counting I am brought back from that place where I am not really feeling the stroke anymore..certainly not in a stingy way, but only in a thump.
I don't think I like the 20 at all...

Bela Borsodiskin - flicker 11

Friday, July 13, 2012

corset

She was required to be there, at his door, no later than the time he had identified.

"Don't be late." He was firm.

She knew what she wanted to do for Him. She pulled the ladder from under her hanging clothes and reached up on tippy toes to the black material draw string bag that held His present.

Opening the drawstrings she pulled out the heavy brocade and steel boned corset. The laces at the back were heavy and strong, just the thing to control and constrict her body in the way He liked.

She wrapped the garment around her body. The steel hook and eyes shiny and smooth to the touch were clipped one at a time, each one adding to the pressure she felt on her skin, a reminder of things to follow when she arrived at her destination. Once the half dozen steel clasps were fastened, her arms reached behind her in search of the long laces. She caught the vision of herself in the mirror as her breasts thrust forward, she would spend a good deal of time in this position, hands behind her back. She liked to see how He would see her, what parts of her would be presented to Him.

She gathered the two ends of the laces in her fingers. This was her favourite part. These laces were not ribbons, they were not delicate. They were heavy woven black laces meant to restrict, to constrict, to pull and fasten. They were small ropes meant to firm and curve, to render control over her body. These laces were meant to mould her, to capture her, to render her mastered. They were design to command her flesh, to dominate her form with the authority of the steel and brocade.

She pulled, her arms stretched out wide from her body.  An even pressure exerted itself on her torso, constricting her inwards and pushing her chest up and out. Then her hands pulled at the top and the bottom laces, wenching them with an even tension behind her. She pulled again on the long laces, her arms reaching out gracefully from her sides. The cycle was repeated several times until she was satisfied that she was properly restricted and shaped for Him.

She stood and admired her form in the mirror before she continued to complete her wrapping. The corset pulled her in firmly at the waist. The black and silver-grey shimmering stripes burst into swirling patterned brocade just under her breasts which were not covered by the restrictive garment. Instead they were pushed above the tourniquet effect of the corset thrusting out as if gifting themselves to any admirer. Her torso curved into an accentuated hourglass like a 1950's showgirl on a Las Vegas stage. She pulled on her ruffled panties which she knew would come off as soon as He got His hands on her but for now the black lace ruffles completed the curve of her bottom and gave way to the flare of her hips.

She pulled over her coat to cover her during the journey to His door. She slipped on the peep toe black patent shoes with the five inch heels that He liked so much. She knew He would place them gently on a pedestal in quiet reflection when they came off eventually in play, when she was completely stripped bare for Him, her sweat and tears from His welcomed ministrations pooling on her skin.


picture property of the photographer (unknown)

Thursday, July 12, 2012

lovely blog award

Swanning around trying to keep up with my reading I was made aware that the ever arse loving DV had included my blog thought in his list of nod's to the lovely blogs award. Many thanks DV and right back at ya!
This might be fun I though but I can't possibly choose only fifteen blogs to say 'wow!' about. Actually I have noticed that we all pretty much follow the same blogs. I only have one regret...no perhaps that should be number 7 about me :)


The One Lovely Blog Rules of Acceptance

Thank the person/people who nominated you and link back to them in your post.
Share seven possibly unknown things about yourself.
Nominate fifteen or so bloggers you admire.
Contact the chosen bloggers to let them know and link back to them.



Seven unknown (possibly) things about me:

1. Ummmm (thinking). I can't do with out a cup of tea first thing in the morning (usually two), which reminds me..back in a tick...

2. In Australia

3. I like to photograph on film and develop my own pictures. I have between 15 and 20 mostly film cameras at last count (and a very understanding husband). My favourites: Yashica TLR 635 (1950's) and Hasselblad 500C ( 1980's with a changeable focussing screen but not a 500CM), but I have a soft spot for many more. Ah yes you can see this is my passion, most of you who are reading probably have NO interest in my focussing screen do you?.lol.

4. Painting was my choice of major at Art school.

5. I travelled in Africa for 18 months in my younger days and then worked in a refugee community in India where I learned to be grateful and began to think in shades of grey.

6. I see minute detail in the world. I see colour and pattern, focus and framing in everything I look at. I see the world in front of me as if it passes on a movie screen. I can sit unoccupied for hours and drink in whats in front of my eyes, with only my thoughts for company (yes I do think too much). I couldn't survive without my thoughts. My thoughts are where the authentic me exists in complete comfort.

7. My only regret is that I haven't enough time to read everyone's blogs everyday because I really, really enjoy them.  I value the effort the people amongst you have made in visiting, commenting, emailing and chatting together.


15 or so blogs to swing by when you have a moment...(this list is NOT exhaustive and in no particular order. For further worthy reads just look at the blog roll...eyes right!)

Ara at a sluts storyboard this woman teaches me and makes me laugh.

A View from the Top  we all know and love David.

Clive! Who doesn't smile at the pink pantied crusader at Clive's Kink

FD, the wonderful Dom in Florida Florida Dom's corner

The Definition of the Van Vagabond..this courageous woman packed up her life and took to the road. I eagerly await each instalment.

Sexual Dynamics: Memoirs of a Discerning Dom I have been following the Discerning Dom since before I was blogging. He is discerning and decidedly Dom.

What does it mean to be Dominant Sir J takes us through his thoughts on Dominance. I have been following Sir J since before I was blogging..on another blog with another flavour but always about the D/s life he lives.

Miss G at The Alternative Restraint, what a woman, what a journey, what a blog!

A love story of epic proportions Wolf and Squirrel..where to next?

Alpha and Lil's story at the heart of Submissive Sanctuary. This woman is an inspiration.

A truly Kind Dom, if you ever have a chance to have a chat with this man you won't forget his gentle gravitas.

When I was very shiny and 'spanking' new in this little journey, I came across Omega and his mouse at The Power Exchange. I was scared out of my wits! I didn't understand mouse's life and journey, but was drawn to it. Now I am proud to say..I kind of get it!

Spiritual BDSM with Michael and Serafina is newish to my read world but really fun.

The new World of Joolz. Her journey is not unlike mine. I see so many similarities between us. I hate to miss a post.

The Darkness in William's Mind has followed a progression of D/s between a man and his wife and the ultimate disappointment that can bring. William, like many of us in the same situation, cannot suppress his need, his desire and his craving, so now he writes stories which ignite a fire in my belly. Don't miss this one.



Sunday, July 8, 2012

relinquishing control

I'm learning about control...giving it up.

I know! A basic pillar to a girl who identifies as submissive. In actual fact I have never been convinced that I am 'submissive' or at least very good at being submissive if indeed I am.

It has become apparent that the two men central to these themes are both convinced I need some work on control...giving it up!

There is so much in these sentences. Feminism might be taking it's last gasp as it slips through my fingers. Maybe not though. I go back to choice..I choose to submit (albeit not very well), fully consistent with feminism and women's 'equal' rights. Neither of these men seek to change my basic human rights through this control. Neither of them seek to change my intellect, my life outside of this sphere that would in any way disadvantage me or my family. To give up control, hand it over, MM explains that I need to simply follow and obey...sigh.

Local D says I over think things. This is not a new concept to me. I have been told this before. I over think things, I fret. I analyse everything from a multifaceted view. The answer I am told is to simply follow. The answer is to simply obey.

Local D asked me to pass a message to the distant MM. In truth this excites me, the pair of them deciding what needs to be done with the kinky lil bitch. I needed to ask MM if he would consent to this (my decision to ask him, a respect I thought for his privacy, respect I thought for his realm of control) and when he said yes I passed him the email. I wasn't clear whether I was supposed to pass email addresses. I am so terribly protective of privacy, theirs as well as mine. So without clear instruction I passed the messages not the email addresses. As I did this I realised that my bid to protect these men and their privacy was an exercise in control. My control.

I have been in control all my life, I am asked now to relinquish control and trust that all will be well, that there will be no harm done. I am having a difficult time with this. I am having difficulty with understanding the way to relinquish my control, not with the desire or need to do it.


property of photographer (unknown)

Sunday, July 1, 2012

happy 1st of july

I wish I was this warm!!!!

July
th middle of winter
the festival of L (usually a 3 or four day festival around L's birthday)
the winter solstice
dark short days
rain
wind
ice
the middle of the calendar gone
ruby
leo
lioness
A new financial year
tax time
mud
bare trees
sigh..a dream of sunny things to come