Friday, August 31, 2012

submission 10

10) Does any element of BDSM occur as a part of your submissive relationships? How do you feel about BDSM? Is it core to your submission, peripheral or non-existent (other than the submission part)?

BDSM is intrinsic to my submission.

I have not thought about this deeply...there are so many expressions of BDSM which for me each in its separate entirety are tools to express and experience submission.

If  B were missing from my experience..horrible! Restraint is key for me..though I have never experienced knotty restraint. With Local D I am restrained, this is where I feel my submission most acutely. There are chains, there is leather, there are implements and acts that restrain my body and mind, demanding self control. Bondage in the true sense of the word, the beauty of knots, is not key for me, but the restraint that is intrinsic to those knots is essential.

D (Discipline, Domination- receiving end only thank you)..essential, how else do I feel my 's'. Discipline puts me into that 'lil girl, young lady' head space and Domination, yum, just yum.

S (submission, Sadism) Submission (DoH!). Sadism, now this is interesting. I am drawn to it but so very nervous of it. Lets face it though, sadism is probably a question of degrees. Nothing thrills me more than a Dom letting their Sadist out to play. Having said that, not much of a pain slut in this lil girl. I do get turned on when a man revels in inflicting a bit of discomfort or even pain for his pleasure. That glint in his eye. My sick lil puppy quite likes the attention that a sadistic act gives to its victim. There's probably a lot more there for me to explore...one day...maybe ;)

M (Masochism)..well I've always had a tendency to be a martyr. Enough said.

Writing these words  has surprised me. I am a girl 'into' all that kinky stuff. So much so I cannot separate submission from BDSM. I don't know what that would look like.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:BDSM_acronym.svg

Thursday, August 30, 2012

preparation

Tomorrow.

1015, not  minute earlier, not a minute later.

There will be consequences for a breach.

Tomorrow.

Plans swimming in readiness,

prepare the lunches,

kiss the family, sending them to their day.

Shower.

Hair removed,

hair washed,

nails painted, fuck me red.

lips glossed,

eyes defined.

Skin massaged with creams.

Body dressed.

Growing heat,

wet,

nervous,

excited,

drive...

1015

Not a minute earlier, not a minute later,

Yes Sir.

photographer unknown. Source - Internet

Sunday, August 26, 2012

what about me?

Yesterday I was hanging around online chatting with a friend in another city when someone quite lovely jumped into the ping box I have popped on the blog.

We began to chat. I am hoping that she won't mind me telling 'all' ..well not all, I am always very careful to protect privacy, mine and other's. I have lived a life understanding and taking very seriously the concept of confidentiality so people, your secrets are safe in my ...ahem..vault..(pun intended).

We chatted about all things. She was very interested to know the future of my relationship with Local D and was quite sure she was not interested in a purely play relationship with any Dom. She is young  and has been looking to D/s as a way forward for her in her life. I envied her at once when she told me she had been aware of her yearning since her teenage years. Now in her twenties she hoped to find someone who could be her partner, lover, friend and most certainly her Dom. All those things that have passed me by for the simple reason I didn't recognise this thing in me until relatively recently.

The Internet has made known those possibilities not available when I was younger. There was no Internet in existence save for in the US defence forces. The concept of multiple points of entry to exchange information was only just beginning in the civil world (certainly in my civil world). CD ROM's were the way to gain information...and email...huh wtf?

Anyway this beautiful young woman suggested that it would be nice to know more about the writer behind the 'smut' as she called it. That made me smile. "Perhaps one of those 100 questions things." I have been very careful not to give too much away of the vanilla me. I have not wish to be exposed for the slut / whore I aspire to be ;). I am also painfully aware that I have only ever had a target audience of 1.. li'l ol' me :)

My question then, does anyone know of an interesting 100 questions (perhaps around twenty in number?). I am still working (rather slowly) on the 30 days of submission questions. Or even better what, if anything, do people wish to know..maybe that's the way to go? (Frankly I can't really imagine people would want to know anything much people have their own very busy lives). Does the smut do its own job? What are the curiosities out there when you read the meanderings posted here?

Comments or email..whichever you prefer.
source interweb; Photographer unknown

Saturday, August 25, 2012

happy as...

Well this lil girl is happy as a pig in shi...MuD today.

I have been languishing. Sliding in the mire without very much guidance. Local D has been absent. The girl taking it as it comes. I notice however that when there is a lack of that strong presence in the girls world, she loses her mojo.

Today though, the girl is flying again. Today she had a very rare opportunity to connect with Daddy. All those kilometres away. His voice sends thrills through her every fibre. She is quite sure she has never heard such a damn fine, smooth as silk and golden honey voice. It's depth resonates across all that distance and brings her to him, right in the same room where he sits, caressing her breasts and pinching her firm nipples, offering his cock for her to worship.

He made her cum for His pleasure. Naked and kneeling. Offering her body for him to touch, to control. He drew her commitment to him which she more than willingly gave. Missing His touch she circled her clit with her own fingers...His fingers, His clit, His cunt aching to be giving relief. He surprised her, challenged her. He showed more of himself than she knew before. Showing things that can only be shown in the immediacy of communication by voice or in person.

Then, as she begged for him to give his cunt relief. He made her say those words out loud. She hesitated to say that word, he had not heard it from her lips. She had written it but never said it to him. She respected him so much, she hesitated to beg out loud for His cock in her cunt, in her arse. He made her say it...she shouted it to him with a relief she had not been aware would come.

After she came for Him she fell into bliss. Her smile never leaving her face for the rest of the day and into the next. It can quite easily be said that the girl has a very big crush on Daddy. A crush on everything he is and brings to her.

Thank you Daddy xxx

property of the photographer (unknown) source: the interweb


Monday, August 13, 2012

here is a small task to do on the way

I stopped for a bottle of wine as instructed, my fishnets travelling up under my coat at 10 in the morning had me nervously tugging downwards at my coat. I was on my way to see Local D. He said he was going to push.

I drifted through the wine shop perusing the wines at 10 in the morning. The attendant asked if needed help. 'No, thank you.' I was terrified he might ask for what occasion I needed the wine (uncomfortable shifting on my cherry pop patent pumps with the little red ribbons). What will you be eating? (ahem-blushing). White or red? Though I could answer this question I turned and smiled and  declined his assistance. I noticed his eyes drop to my heeled fishnetted legs. He might have thought I had on a short skirt underneath as the coat I wore dropped to the mid thigh and there was no skirt peeping out under it. In fact the attendant would have been mistaken had he thought that.
Maybe he knew the truth. Maybe he thought to himself, here is a man's girl, I have seen this before. She is naked under that coat but for an adorable red corset cut to show her breasts in such a way that one wonders how her nipples remain just hidden by the edging of black silk. Her round arse is essentially bare. She is wearing no panties, the net of the fish tightly encasing her curves. She is wet about now. The flush of her cheek belies her heat and her quickened breath tells the tale of her fear of being found out by me. Yes she is girl on her way to her Dom. Doing just as he has instructed even though she is blushed with embarrassment at doing so. She has been here before, this girl. I know her and her husband. He usually buys a bottle of Shiraz, a nice big red from the region nearby to share with a meal. His wife though is after a white, a bottle to share in the late afternoon when the days activities have quite worn her out and she lay in his arms resting. Maybe he knew that truth.

I chose and paid for a Pinot Gris from the near by hills. I looked at the men behind the counter, wondering if they could see the ruby red corset through my coat, intricately beaded with tiny black glass squeezing my breasts tight and pushing them up and out the top of the overcoat as an offering. The corset pulled my waist all the way in until it's edges met with the ribbons pulled tight. Earlier, as I pulled the silk ribbon I thought I must have lost weight, this corset shouldn't completely meet! I would have to be careful not to lose anymore or my corsets (the number of which is not unsubstantial) would no longer shape me in the curvy way they do. (Is anyone else laughing as hard as me! yeah right lilo..stop losing weight..I don't think I ever started) I supposed this corset must have been bigger than the others.

Once back in the car I pulled my coat up my fishnetted arse nicely exposing it and sitting proper on the car seat. I thought of Daddy all those kilometers away. He had been the first to teach me to sit proper. The fishnets lead all the way down to my follow me, fuck me heels. I was rather successfully doing my cherry tart meets burlesque theme today. I drove out of the car park waving to the local mums from school who were getting into and out of their cars in the car park and I wondered if they were all buying wine on their way to be spanked and used.

unknown photographer, sourced from the interweb

Sunday, August 12, 2012

girl lost

This is going to sound like a whinge and in faithfulness to my journal I have to say it.
I am feeling lost. This has been growing for a little while.
I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going.
Connections are weakening with all.
It feels like Local D is becoming a play partner only. I need more. I don't mean I need him in my life as my partner, far from it, but I need his control to be more present outside the room. I need and crave submission though I acknowledge any submission I offer is far from perfect.
I need to be safe. Taken care of. There is something missing.

I am not secure in any aspect of my life at the moment.
Things with non-Dom feel unsettled, strained and I am further away from him than I want to be.
I am spinning and feeling very unsupported.
Such a whiny girl, I hate it when I'm like this.
I want and need a man to take control of me. To be responsible for me. An incredibly selfish me just wants someone else to be the rock. To advise and mark out the boundaries. To set the limits that I must not step beyond. Instead everything feels a bit wishy washy and unsure.

I love to play with Local D but I need a firm hand too outside the room. Lately he has been saying that circumstances mean he can't control things, more specifically me, in the way he would like to do outside the room. This circumstance he alludes to is my relationship with non-Dom. Ah well if it all ends soon ..it has been a nice exploration.
Who knows where we will go with this, but just maybe, Local D isn't strong enough for me, maybe I'm not sub enough for him.

I need a strong man to match mine and push beyond my strength.
I don't think though I can exist for a few hours in a room once a fortnight.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

part 2...love submission love ...the response

This is a topic that has provoked some fantastic debate and was clearly close to a lot of people's hearts. Thank you to all of you who have taken part. I thought with the learning's I took from all the comments and some private discussion as well as some deeper thought, I might just round off the topic. In my first post here I pondered whether I must experience love for Him in order to submit truly and more deeply.

There were a couple of issues highlighted in the responses.
  1. The capacity to love deeply more than one while that person may not be one's significant other (non-Dom and Local D in my case).
  2. The difference in the nature of love. We love differently in different relationships and all are valid, healthy and an experience of honesty to oneself and others.
However my original question, which perhaps was not very well expressed was not really touched on.

I think I am not asking if it is right or wrong to love more than one man (or woman, insert your favoured gender here) and at which point? Rather, in searching for a more perfect submission..in searching for my submission, will any submission I offer only deepen or carry authenticity if I love? Does Love bring the strength to submit? If I never love, never give into these feelings which I have experienced in the moments where he Dominates me (and I want to wrap myself around him in love, like a koala in a high waving eucalyptus tree, face buried in the trunk eyes closed away from the sun), if I never give myself completely in Love, can I ever deliver an authentic overwhelming submission to him? Do I really care if I have another to love? I can answer this last one, I do care though sometimes I feel very mercenary in all this and most decidedly unsubmissive!

There is an issue for me in loving more than one man at once. It would feel like infidelity to me. This is an important boundary not to be crossed for the very real fear that it would hurt non-Dom. If I could get past that, if I could live with real secrets from non-Dom then all would be well! One of my biggest barriers in all this TTWD is my overwhelming sense of guilt that my actions will not honour non-Dom. Loving another man would be crossing the line. I truly agonise over these things...thinking too much. This is the man however with whom I hope to share myself to the end of life.  If I fuck it up there is no recovery, not really. We have survived one such major fuck up, no matter how many years, no matter how much forgiveness, the memory has not faded.

If I let myself love in order to submit, it would be in secret, in a lie to non-Dom. This is not part of our agreement around this episode in our lives. Would I risk this though if it meant a more authentic experience of my submission? An honest experience?

In his comment on the post, Bruce may have come the closest in addressing the relationship between submission and love, calming me in the same moment, when he said,
I like to think of D/s love as occupying that grey area between spousal love, and parent-child love. And it is on a sliding scale in that grey zone. I believe as the trust and submission grow, so too will the scale move. And just as the scale moves, so too can the submission deepen.
In a private conversation, a friend advised to stop thinking and enjoy the moment, enjoy where you are and stop thinking about the future (how did he know I was thinking about tomorrow, wondering if it would be as good as today?..lol).

So would I take the risk and love in order to engage with submission? Maybe...even probably. Or should I wait for the pendulum to swing traversing the sliding scale of grey light between spousal love and parent-child love?...Most probably.  This is the paradigm that fits most closely with who I am and takes the dilemma of choosing to love another man away from me. It is no longer in my control and isn't that the point after all. Submission, in this paradigm is inextricably linked to a love that is comfortable and has its place in the grey light where D/s lives. Funny the wisdom one can find in the strangest of places.



unknown photographer: sourced from the interweb

Thursday, August 9, 2012

love submission love

There are so many thoughts speeding through my head.
Yes yes Daddy I think too much...slap!

I have been reading blogs with some very insightful posts. As I search for my submission I feel there is something missing. I read other women's thoughts, other men's thoughts and I wonder if what is missing is love.

I am immersed in play. I love to play but there is no love. I am not free to love. I read blogs that not only border but fall into deep descriptive submissions of hearts and flowers. Submissive women who are free and some not so free, to love. I am not criticising this in any way. In fact I wonder if this is what I really need, not just the freedom to submit but also the freedom to love.

I am lead to ponder the question is true submission grounded in love? Or maybe, like the old chicken and the egg question, is love born of submission? Arrrrrgh! Who knows? I just know that I don't love, I can't love and possibly won't ever be free to love. I have not chosen for love..perhaps then I have chosen for the wrong reason. I am put in mind of one of my favourite characters in one of my favourite books, Gatsby's Daisy made a mockery of his life's work to win her away from her athletic husband when she admitted 'I loved you both.' I would like to be able to love both and though I care..deeply and affectionately, given the choice I would choose the man I love over the man who loves me in the a way I need, with strength and control and the expression of whips, pulleys and bruised skin.

photographer unknown, source : Interweb

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

cuffed, collared, clamped, roped, suspended

Restrained, wrists chained above her head, he passed a  soft black rope around her waist. She wondered where he had learned his knotting skill. Boy scouts she supposed. He passed the length of rope through her legs and up to a pulley suspended from a silver chain traversing the ceiling. The chain was a new addition to the room. He had installed it for just this purpose. He dropped the rope after tying a knot in the end and leaned down into his black carry-all bag pulling from it a weight. She watched every movement in him her eyes widening with anticipation. As he dropped the weighted rope she gasped at the uncomfortable pull across her puckered arse. She laughed loudly at her predicament as she caught the reflection of her bound suspended body in the mirror. She was cuffed, collared, clamped, roped and suspended. She was instantly wet with anticipation and just a little fear.

He looked into her her eyes and his expression betrayed his enjoyment at his girls reaction to her troublesome situation as it dawned on her that this was not going to be easy to extract herself, not at least until he was done. There was that side of her that didn't want extraction, not this side of summer anyway. She could be hanging here for an age, uncomfortable, nervous, wondering what the hell he was up to.

The sound of the buzzy wand started in his hand and she laughed as it crossed her mind he had made her into his bdsm bitch. Tomorrow she would walk back into the world as wife, mother, daughter, friend and colleague with the flogger marks, bruised body and secret sub girl hidden under her clothing.

unknown photographer source: interweb

Sunday, August 5, 2012

the night before

Waking early, even before light she surveyed the night before. She had been his last night. Cementing their love in their own world.

Leather shackles lay on the floor next to the patent black peep toe heels with cherry detail and red soles. The flogger is draped on the chair over which she bent to receive his will. The magic buzzy wand cast off and lay where it landed after she had cum and he had fucked her where she lay. Fishnet crotchless and bottomless stockings gently lay next to the red cotton twill striped corset. The corset had arrived in the post two days earlier and was approved in the previous night's proceedings.

She drifted down the hall to the living area aware that her body ached from the treatment it had been subjected to in the night. In the kitchen empty green lipped pacific oyster shells lay on the bench next to a nearly finished bottle of French champagne. She had sipped at her vintage pink glass with peacock detail while her cunt pressed down astride his trousered leg. He could feel the heat from her cunt reach boiling as he took her mouth and her nipples into his own mouth. She remembered with delight slipping to her knees and releasing his cock with her eager hands. Her hot hungry mouth found his hardness taking him into her throat. She loved the sound of his moan as she sucked and twirled her tongue finding that sensitive place just under the head of his glans. Saliva pooled at the corners of her mouth, his fist twisted in her hair, her eyes watered as he began to fuck her mouth. She loved it when he took control and fucked her like this. She met his gaze as he thrust more deeply into her throat. Her gag relaxing to let him in.

The candles had burned down, the wax cooling on the table top and she wondered if he had thought to use some of that wax for a purpose other than ambient lighting. The windows in the living room had remained open and she enjoyed the memory of dancing for him in the window, just to show the neighbours what was his.

She sighed with satisfaction as she gathered the memories of the night before and stored them away for another time.

Andrew Lucas: sourced from the interweb

Friday, August 3, 2012

spent

So much happened today.
I am exhausted my eyes are stinging for sleep.
He sent me home marked and bruised. Clamps decorating my nipples, I hoped that the car wouldn't breakdown or the police pull me over for some misdemeanor and discover the half fucked girl with pain searing through her nipples. He sent me home content and so happy.
He pushed hard. He made me laugh. He made me cry. He made me beg for release. He made me small. He made me more his than I have been before.
Each visit draws me in, brings me closer to who I am, closer to what is inside.

unknown photographer sourced from the interweb

Thursday, August 2, 2012

for you x

on the eve of discipline

Tomorrow we meet again.
No instruction,
no expectation.

He says he will push me
he says its time to push.

I don't think I believe him
but I am excited and nervously awaiting tomorrow.