Learning to Play Again

Through all of 2017, I had sex a total of three times.

That's a record. I started having sex at 16 and never looked back.

I'm 42, and I had sex a total of three times last year.

At first it started because I was knocked out of my comfort zone. You see, for several years I had a Dom. It was an unique arrangement that worked for us. He didn't want a committed long term relationship yet offered me more than I could have ever imagined. He helped me work through deeply entrenched PTSD issues from sexual assaults and gave me my first orgasms. He encouraged me to continue looking for my "forever" partner. When I would cross paths with someone I thought might be "the one", my Dom and I would part ways. We wouldn't communicate in any way as I pursued the path before me. If things didn't work out (to date they haven't), I'd contact him again. Most of those times we picked up where we'd left off with the understanding that when we were with each other, we were only with each other. No other play partners unless we were together and brought someone else in. If one of us wanted to pursue something else with another, we'd part ways and each would respect the others choice. It worked great for us.

He was my constant. The one person I could always rely and depend on to stay consistently the same.

Then, during the very end of 2017, things changed. He seemingly forgot that I couldn't be slapped in the face and did so on three different occasions. He started venturing into more submissive actions during sex. They weren't typically things I was opposed to but they were so different then the five years of consistency I'd come to know and rely on. I was at a point in life where I was overwhelmed with responsibility and craved the comfort of knowing exactly what to expect with him.

One night, the beginning of 2018, after we'd had a couple glasses of wine too many, he started speaking of his other two women. "On rotation" was how he referred to the three of us. He had us on rotation. When I asked more questions, he gave me answers that dumbfounded me. The first year he and I were together, it was just us as agreed upon. However, the last four years he'd had both of them. Not just during the times he and I were apart, but while we were together.

I was blown away. I had never suspected. During our times apart, we both knew that the other was with someone. Yet, during our times together, I thought it was just us. We were supposed to be completely open with each other. There was at least one time he told me he couldn't talk to me when I re-appeared because he was in a relationship. How could there have been two ongoing women that I knew nothing about. We had, what I thought, was an iron clad agreement that gave us all the freedom we would need. If he'd wanted to have women "on rotation", it wasn't something he had to hide from me for years. It just wasn't in the original agreement but that agreement was always known to be flexible.

If he hid both of them for years, what else has he hid? What do I not know?

These were issues I was already struggling with. I had trusted someone else completely and discovered that nothing had been what I thought. So I'd turned to my Dom as a reminder that there are honest people and to restore my faith in humanity. Instead, four months into it I discovered there were things I didn't know.

So, I pulled away from him. I needed to breath and find my faith in humanity without another human being helping me there.

I went months without seeing him. During that time, I had sex once with one other person. It was more than I could have predicted, totally unexpected, and quite nice. Yet, that person withdrew afterward in what, as best I understood, was a fear he may become emotionally attached and needed to work through some baggage before he could entertain that idea (which I've mad respect for).

Outside of that I remained on my own. I had several people pursue me, but I just needed more time to breath.

I visited my Dom again in June. I was super excited. I'd accepted that he'd deceived me, grieved the loss of what almost felt like innocence, and decided that the pros were still worth the cons.

Yet, everything was different. Although there had been times we both had a couple of glasses too many and ended up with a slight head buzz, this time he became drunk. I had always relied on him to refill my glass and never paid attention to how much I drank as he always withdrew it at what he felt was the right time. The slight head buzz was always the maximum limit. It wasn't until the movie went off that I realized I'd drank way more than I ever would normally. Then, I realized he had as well. Why were we both drunk?

Then, he wanted to visit the neighbors and introduce them to me. We'd always been just us. I never introduced him into my life, he never introduced me into his. We always knew about each others lives, but never did those lines cross. Confused, I went with him to the neighbors. He talked to them about me as if he and I were a long term, established, serious relationship. Expectations seemed to be laid down around me, and I was struggling to make sense of it all. Upon returning back to his place, I witnessed a seeming transformation that I'd never anticipated.

HE

WAS

SUBMISSIVE

It was nothing direct. Just a tilt of the head, a lowered gaze, a timid smile, a long pause.

I can't put into words the fire that lit inside of me and spread through my body. It had been so long since I'd dominated anyone. I instantly felt the slickness between my thighs. My mouth practically watered.

I
DEVOURED
HIM

In my still drunken haze, I incorporated things I'd learned from him into my complete domination of him. Things I'd never expected to do to him flew through my mind faster than I could react. His flesh between my biting teeth. My hand around his throat. My fingers twisting in his hair as I pulled his head back. The pictures falling off the wall as I slammed him into the door. I hadn't realized that I missed releasing my dominant side so much until that night.

Then, instantly, we both froze. I'm not sure what exactly happened that triggered it but it was as if suddenly we were both aware that there had been a complete roll reversal. I was shaking, he was shaking. Both of us quivering, drenched in sweat and suddenly uncomfortable.

"Hey, you're using my moves! Those are my moves!"

I just stared at his lips as he spoke those words. Suddenly sober and wondering what the hell was happening.

"Well, I never doubted that you were a good teacher," I replied. I TOLD him I was going to the fridge to get something to drink, still fully encompassed by my dominant nature yet frantically willing my body and mind to return to his being the Dom I'd come to rely on for years.

We ceased all activity at this point. We both conceded it was late and we curled up in bed to sleep. Yet, our normal sleep positions were uncomfortable. My body was still humming to the tune of dominance and a submissive sleep position was like a short circuit in my body. I simply couldn't transition that fast. We both laid there, unable to sleep.

I've not been back since.

That was June.

I haven't been with anyone since then. I recently finally got up the courage to go on a date and followed it with a second date. Yet, he wanted to kiss me. That kiss was a trigger that literally halted my interest in this new man instantly. We'd been talking for weeks. Both our dates were fun. He appears responsible, a great father, stable, incredibly fit. Why would my interest just switch off?

The lovely ginger that I'd spent one night with earlier in the year resurfaced. He wanted to revisit what we'd started. Yet, while the thought of this excites me, I also feel almost a panic at the thought.

That panic is present anytime I consider meeting someone new or revisiting someone from before.

I want to play. I want to feel my body respond to someone else's touch. I have plenty of options.

Yet, I feel nervous. I feel anxious. I almost feel scared.

I'm not sure what it is. Is it because I don't trust my own judgments anymore when it comes to those I share my body with? Is it because I don't believe that I know what to expect or what will come? Is it because I no longer trust anyone?

I am looking at the playgrounds before me. So many are inviting. So many will be a wonderful experience.

Why can't I chose one to play on?

I want to bypass the anxiety and learn to play again.

As I sat on the couch, working on something he had so humbly asked me to help him with, he came into the room with a pillow and a chair. He situated them both before me, laying the pillow on the chair. He then picked up my feet and placed them on the pillow.

I never question his actions anymore. I have learned that whatever he does, he has my best interest in mind.

I kept diligently working, being careful not to pay much attention to what he was doing. Watching him would result in my trying to figure out what he was doing, which would then distract me from the work he had asked me to do. The work that, though seemingly minor, was something I longed to do simply because he asked it of me.

He came back into the room with a bottle of oil, setting it on the table. He then gently lifted both my feet in his firm, strong hand. With his other hand he lifted the pillow. He then sat down, placed the pillow on his lap, and nestled my feet onto the pillow.

Through this I kept working.

Until I felt the oil hit my feet. Although I had suspected, I was still amazed that this powerful, strong, beautiful man was rubbing oil into my feet. I continued to work but my work was punctuated with the loving smiles I gave him, as well as the relaxing sighs that came from me.

After rubbing both my feet with oil and relaxing me thoroughly, he stood and gently placed my feet back on the pillow that rested upon the chair. He then returned with a large glass bowl of warm water.

He returned to the chair, with my feet nestled upon the pillow on his lap. He then cleansed my feet while telling me about his mother cleaning the children's feet in their youth. He showed me the love and devotion he felt doing so to me.

After patting my feet gently dry, he again left the room. He then returned with powder which he rubbed into my feet.

He had thoroughly cleansed my feet.

"Someone really loves you when they clean your feet", he told me while gazing in my eyes.

He held my feet in his hand while sliding back the chair and placing the pillow on the floor beneath me. He gently laid my feet upon the pillow and went to work putting up everything he had gotten out.

All I could do was watch him. I had forgotten my work. All I knew was his presence as my bathed and powdered feet rested upon a pillow. All I knew was HIM.

When he came back into the room, he sat in the chair in front of me. I leaned forward, and he bent down towards me.

Ever so gently, with emotion charging the air, I kissed his lips gently and whispered, "Thank you."

I am his girl.

Submissive is NOT Weakness

I read someone's post today regarding their personal journey in life. Reading through their post brought me some eye opening moments.

First, I just realized that being submissive is NOT weakness. You see, I grew up seeing that a woman that was submissive to an overbearing and critical man was miserable, pathetic and weak. I never wanted to be that woman. I never wanted to be that man either.

I've gone through life being independent (on my own since 16) and relying on no one but myself. I've made sure the bills were paid, the house was clean, the yard was kept up, the car was running, the grill was in order and the kids were raised. I've done it all. I've succeeded at everything I set out to do.......except maintain a solid relationship.

In all my relationships I've been the one in charge, handling all the responsibilities. Over the last couple of years I've grown exhausted, bone weary, tired. I wasn't aware why until most recently. Now I know, it's because I've always been in control. If I was not in control.....well, I don't know what would have happened. After escaping extreme domestic violence, I made sure I was always in control.

And now, I'm burned out.

Now, I want someone else to step in, take over and make sure it gets done. I want someone that is going to discipline me today because I'm weeks past due in my college work (yes, I am) and make sure I not only get it done but have it done before it's due. I want someone to put me to bed each night at a decent hour and require me to get up bright and early. I want someone that will tell me what I must avoid food wise and what I need to eat daily. I want someone that will push me to reach my full potential, motivate me to do so (with both rewards and disciplines), and show me that they know me better than anyone else.

I know that letting go and letting another take control will be the most difficult experience of my life. I know that I've never dated a man like that before, choosing instead to only date those that were pliable (and a bit insane). I can't imagine how much I'll struggle to trust someone to that extent. How much time and effort it will take to get to that point.

I do know that until I do find that, I"ll continue to feel lost somewhere deep down inside. That place I keep buried and covered over.

It's not about the sexual aspect for me, it's about relinquishing control of ME. All of me. Emotionally, mentally, physically and sexually.

Don't get me wrong, I still want input. In alot of ways I know what is best for me. Yet, in many ways I need someone that will push me to do the things I already know I should be doing.

Someone asked me what I'd be willing to give in return for someone "taking over" my life.

If that person knew me at all, they'd know that through my letting go of control, I'd already given them the most prized possession I have.

Last Night

As darkness came, our roles reversed and I breathed a sigh of relief. My workday was over. I could just BE. I followed his directions, which each task suddenly becoming sensual. Making him a glass of ice water, setting up his new account, even my taking a shower......each task that he gave to me was, somehow, a labor of love. Instead of monotonous responsibilities that I had burned out on years ago, I sought to please him. I wanted to do my best in each. I was so upset and frustrated when halfway through my shower, in which I had been directed to shave in a very specific manner, the hot water ran out (joy of having teens in the house). I stayed in the shower as long as I could, but due to my health restrictions, cold water can cripple me. When he realized the hot water had run out and that I was attempting to finish anyway, he firmly told me that I was to discontinue. However, I WANTED to finish. I felt COMPELLED to do as I had been told. I could tell that he did not want to inflict my muscles with pain due to the cold water, but I felt such great disappointment in being unable to complete the task at hand. 

After all children were successfully enshrouded in dreamland, our "night" began. I have never, in my entire life, even fantasized that lovemaking could be so good.  I honestly do not believe, after what I experienced last night, that I have ever been a recipient of love making. Every thing in the past seems so hollow and empty. 

At one point, a specific combination of our activities brought back that long suppressed fear. Quite frankly, PTSD is a bitch. I do not care to explain in detail what this means, just Google "flashbacks PTSD" for a description. For my fellow sufferers out there, I know that you will understand and know that all of you are often in my thoughts. We stand together and in that alone we have strength. 

He caught my flashback a split second before I did. He halted everything and went straight to protecting me, nurturing me, letting me know I was safe. He pulled me back before I lost myself and I clung to his voice as a life preserver. Yet, it confused me. I knew the voice I was hearing was safety. Yet, I didn't recognize the voice. As I became aware of my surroundings and collected myself, I realized that it was him. Yet, I had never known him to sound that way, to be that way. What had so drastically changed? 

We were able to resume our activities. I longed to do as he desired, his wish my every command. I have never imagined that my body could feel so good. His grip around my neck, allowing my movements while riding him to determine the strength of his grip..... pure bliss. 

Almost a decade ago, a dear friend of mine told me that she thought she was going to marry the man she had started dating. Knowing that she had sworn off marriage after having remarried her ex-husband and it failing, I was stunned. I looked at her incredulously and asked, "Why?". My sweet, innocent, docile, delicate friend looked at me with hooded eyes and stated, "Because, he choked me and I had the most breathtaking orgasm I have ever experienced."

"HE CHOKED YOU????" I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice. Why the hell would she let some asshole choke her? 

She patiently explained that she had allowed it, that she had even wanted it. That she had wanted it for  a long time but had never been with a man that would do it. Actually, she said she'd never been with anyone "man enough" to do it. I was dumbfounded and convinced she'd lost her mind. 

Let me admit my wrong now and state that she was absolutely spot on! There is no better orgasm than that one that comes with the lack of total control when his hands are around your neck and your are torn between the pleasure and the pain. It is the first time that I have had an orgasm and my mind has been stilled. 

We've realized that we need to invest in a waterproof mattress cover. 

After our escapades, I felt a little "out of it". He was holding me, caressing me, caring for me, loving me. Having never craved choking to the extent that I now do, and certainly having never had it done to me (barring abuse many years before), I had not anticipated the lingering effects of such. The lightheaded that also feels like a tightness in your head, the feeling that your eyes are bigger than usual, the surreal feeling. He told me that we will research this, make sure that we put safety first, and that for future reference we will research anything we want to try before doing so. Knowing that he was concerned for me, even as he assured me that I would feel fine in a few minutes (and I did) was of no small consequence. 

He whispered in my ear, "I love you". 

Previously, he had only told me that twice where I sensed emotion behind it. The other declarations were perfunctory, made out of his sense that he was required to say it, even if he wasnt' particularly feeling it at the time. This time though I heard it in his voice....that same voice I'd heard earlier in the night that I thought was not his. 

As he turned me around to look at him, he even looked like a totally different person. I told him that instead of looking like his cold and calculating grandfather, he now looked like his supportive, caring, loving uncle. He looked different. Sounded different. Felt different. 

Although in awe at the changes I saw, I knew one thing without hesitation. 

I had finally, after all the years of wandering, found home. 

Dark versus Day

I could have never imagined the changes that would take place in just a matter of a couple of days, though it feels as if weeks have passed.

Dark hours: His

Daylight hours: Mine

During our first round of daylight hours, he CHANGED. Gone was the argumentative, stand offish man I'd been with for eight months. Gone was the man that would become mean when his emotions started to rise up within him. Gone was the man that never told me his feelings or thoughts. Gone was the man that kept himself always at a safe distance.

As the daylight hours faded, he told me that it was the first time in our relationship that he'd felt at peace. He said he felt happy.

Our first round of nightime hours started. I dutifully worked on folding and putting away the loads of clean laundry in our bedroom I'd gotten behind on as he instructed. He managed all the evening responsibilities and making it clear to me what my roles were, what I was to do. Although at first my mind would race with all the things that needed to be done (dinner, baths for kids, .... all the usual nighttime routines), I quickly realized that it wasn't what I had been told to do. I had been given very specific tasks to complete and I needed to focus on those. It was the first time I ever remember actually being able to turn off my brain and just focus on the task at hand. It felt so freeing.

After the kids were asleep, we both delve into the new "agreement" was had made. I thought that relinquising all control in the bedroom would be....

TERRIFYING.

Instead, it was so very....

GRATIFYING.

He had never revealed this other side of himself to me. Although I had hinted at my own fantasies and desires, he had never been told the full extent of them.

That night, despite the pain, the bruises, the scratches, the bites.... I was able to lie in his safe embrace, turn my brain off and fall right to sleep. Turning my brain off has always been impossible for me. However, I knew in that moment I was not required to think, to be in charge, to plan......all I needed to do was BE.

He told me in the morning that I had nightmares all night. We had discussed the possibility that our exploration in the bedroom may lead to flashbacks due to my PTSD. I believe the nightmares stemmed from these. Yet, even in the shroud of sleep, he was able to hold me, comfort me, and bring me back to the realm of safety with his voice. That also is something that has never happened before.

I felt so safe.

Yesterday was our second set of daylight hours. Transitioning from dark to light was a bit difficult. I realized that I didn't really want to "take charge". I didn't want to begin thinking, plan our day, decide what would and would not be done. Yet, I know that just as much as I crave relinquishing all control and how therapeutic that is for me, he needs the same.

His day consisted in his working for my friend (for free), packing the rest of his belongings and bringing them back home, admitting to others that he had relapsed (even after telling them he had not), and visiting his mother. Twice during the day he was argumentative, and three times he told me to do something. Although I understand that it is habit, and that even his telling me what to do (hand me those snipes) was not, in either of our minds, a direct command.....we have both decided that we will stick to the agreements we made. Discipline was administered upon arriving home. I must admit, sitting down to dinner with the children, knowing that he was willingly submitting to his discipline in another room, unbeknownst to anyone except myself................ it affected me on an emotional and mental level I do not think that anyone has ever touched before. It solidified that deep desire I have had for so long to care for him that I to have kept at bay.

On our way home, he spoke again of how easy this was for him. He said he felt like everything was the way it should be. He knew that he loved me and knew that I loved him. He was being true to himself.

I sat, looking across at the man I had spent 8 months with and realized that, although I saw through his walls that he'd built around him, I had no idea the depth of what lay behind those walls.

We are on a journey, and I am pleased.

A New Venture

I wish that life came with a road map and the directions highlighted in neon orange.

I picked him up last night. He stayed here all night. We cried and we argued. We pleaded and we demanded.

We realized that ultimately, the two of us have, what appears to be, two main issues.


ME: I must always be in control. I micro manage every aspect of everyone's life. Although I have stated repeatedly that I am so bone weary tired, that I want someone else to take charge so I can have a break, the truth is I'm so damn tired because I am OCD in my control issues.

HIM: He does not allow himself to actually feel his emotions or follow through with his thoughts. He starts to feel a strong emotion, he automatically shuts it down and throws up walls, usually by being a total jerk. He alienates and pushes away.

To date, I have no idea what he thinks are my positive characteristics, only the ones he feels are negative. I don't know what he likes about my body (well I know one thing). I don't know why he wants to be with me. I don't know why he loves me or wants me.

(For those that have read my previous writings, I had told him when he relapsed that once he told me the truth, I would talk to him again. I did not anticipate his telling me the truth. In his far past, he never did (with other relationships). He would merely leave. As for his being with "her" and using needles again, she was merely using our separation as an advantage to attack me and further severe he and I.

Should I believe him? I guess I don't really know. But what I do know is that he has told me more things about his life than anyone else knows. He says that he was so very ashamed of having taken my pills that he couldn't bear to see the disappointment on my face if he told me the truth. Then, when I would not talk to him or reply to him, he though that I was completely done loving him.

He's an addict. He's struggled and relapsed. I don't know that it won't happen again.

I'm an addict. I've struggled and relapsed. I KNOW that it won't happen again but really, do any of you truly believe me?

However, it's worth the risk. He's the only person that doesn't take issue with my health issues, my family situation, my dysfunction.

I'm the only person that has ever loved him completely and totally, not in spite of what he's done or had happen to him, but because of who those things resulted in him being.

We came to the conclusion around 4am that neither of us want to go back to living how we have been. We haven't been happy. Neither of us fit in "normal". We've been trying so hard to have a "normal" relationship and it's slowly killing us.

So, what have we come up with?

First, I need to figure out a way to release control. I don't think I'm capable of it. The thought of not controlling every minute of every day is suffocating to me. It terrifies me. I had an anxiety attack in the van driving today and thinking about it.

So, how do I fix it?

I plan to, for 12 hours out of the day, hand him total control. Complete control. I will do as he says, when he says.

Why does this not completely flip me out? Why do I not think that he would abuse the situation?

Because for the other 12 hours of the day, I have control.

I know, this most likely does not fit into any relationship that has been seen before.

Yet, we have talked about it all day and think it will work for us.

His 12 hours, for now, start at dark. That leaves him in charge of making sure dinner, baths, bedtimes, etc is handled with children. I am certain that he will instruct me to handle these tasks and direct me in how he would like it done. As for after the children are in bed, I can't say that I have any worries. I know that he will not hurt me in a way that I would not desire. I know that he will push my limits, but that he will give me the comfort I need to be OK. Somehow, I think I will finally get past all the damned PTSD shit that years of therapy have not conquered. I want to. He understands. I think this will work. Of course, we have discussed discipline because quite simply, what's the point of having control if you can not enforce it. Of course, the mischievous side of me wants to make him think that certain things are discipline when in reality I enjoy every minute of it. With a weaker, less intelligent man, I might can pull this off. He knows me better than I know myself in many ways though. If he caught on, I'm am certain I would not enjoy any of the discipline then. Checks and balances.......

My 12 hours start at daylight. When I was speaking of all the chores I had to catch up on tomorrow, he looked at me and stated, "Ah, but now you have a slave." Even though we had spoke of our "plan" all day, he abhors chores. When I looked at him pleased, he replied, "Well, if we are going to do this, we must do it all the way".

Neither of us have any real experience in this. Up until the wee hours of this morning, he had refused to reveal to me his "kink/freak/dark" side. Despite all that I had told him, he was still worried that I would not want him if I knew. That I would be scared off. That I wouldn't be with him anymore. However, this morning, in the wee hours I pushed him not to hold back. Just once to fuck me the way I needed to be fucked. I saw the fear in his eyes. He was scared, not of me, but of losing control. I finally looked at him and explained, "You won't lose control because you will have total control". I saw the realization in his eyes. The fear fled from his eyes and then suddenly he let go.

Completely.

Totally.

He did pull away at one point. Worried that his choking me would be to much for me.

We've discussed this through out the day. He has hidden his desires since he was a teenager. He enjoys knife play, with blood. He wants to be cut as it's very seductive and erotic to him. I asked him if he would want to cut me. He looked at me and, without his normal hesitation in speaking of his feelings and thoughts he replied, "No, not with your history of cutting."  Ahhhhh, see? He knows me better than anyone else. Because the idea of his cutting me brought back those old cravings (I've not cut in 10 years). I already knew that if a blade were to touch my skin, that I would struggle with wanting to cut myself when life seemed to overwhelming.

In all reality, this situation that we are creating is the most fucked up, crazy, insane, psychotic, dysfunctional idea for a relationship that I have ever even heard of.

It fits us perfectly.

Switch? OK... but the rest..... really?

So, I kept seeing the quiz that everyone took and out of curiosity, finally took it. Below are my results. I can totally see the first two....though the third and fourth surprised me. Yet, this may be another part of me I just haven't fully chosen to accept yet (I'm getting there though). I had no doubt Submissive and Dominant would be tied. I love both of them equally. In all reality, exhibitionist/voyeur should be well near the top of the list. I love love love having an audience. My times at the "social club" (haven't written about those yet but will) were superb. I don't really like to share (surprised that wasn't on the quiz) but having an audience is such a flipping turn on!

You Scored as Switch

Urban Dictionary: Switch- A person who facilitates between dominant and submissive roles within sexual relations.

Switch

100%

Experimental

96%

Sadist

79%

Masochist

57%

Submissive

57%

Dominant

57%

Exhibitionist / Voyeur

57%

Bondage

36%

Vanilla

29%

When Are You ALLOWED to Cum?

I learned something new today. Actually, just this very minute. I was so blown away I jumped right over to my blog to post about it.

There are some men that are in "chasity" (yes, like chasity belts), that are only allowed to cum a few (or less) times a year!!! Oh my!!

I am all over the place with this one.

I was married, at one time, to a man that preferred masturbation to sex. Of course, the only sex he wanted was very tame, docile, teenage sex. Maybe I scared him, who knows.

Anyway, the amount of devotion that one must have for another to acquiesce to their wishes regarding when they may cum.

It is so titillating.

Looking from the other side of it.........

If I was with someone that could make me cum (so far only one man has) and they withheld that from me, I'd go insane! The man that has the ability to make me cum has always made sure to please me, repeatedly, back to back, every time we've been together. Just thinking of  him makes the center of my being hurt.

If he ever were to try to withhold that from me, it would not be a good experience.

Which is how I know that I could never truly be a slave.

The redhead in me would surely cum out on that one (yes, pun intended).

I am of course very curious to hear from those that are limited in this way.

What is the appeal for you?

What emotional/mental gratitude do you derive from this?

As hypocritical as it may sound, though I would never tolerate my own orgasms being held hostage from me, the idea of caring and tending to someone to the extent that even that would be allowed by me is very, very, very appealing and erotic.

Oh la la. Let's see what else I can learn today. :)

Maybe that is where I should be....

I met him on a singles site. He was much older than me, but at the time the site did not restrict that. There was something about his profile. His pics and his words exuded confidence, but at the same time showed this nervous, geeky little boy side that was cute.

The first date blew me away. We had a wonderful, intelligent conversation over a nice dinner. When we went out, it was pouring rain. I had parked towards the bottom of the parking lot and was going to merely tell him bye at the door and dash for my car. However, he insisted on walking me to my car! Even more shocking, he didn't attempt to touch me at all. Not even a peck on the cheek! As I started to pull away, I realized I needed to shut the trunk. I jumped out to do so and when I turned to walk back to my door, he was standing there! Soaked to the skin in the torrential downpour. He had seen me stop and came to make sure everything was OK.

Our first time together was fabulous. He seemed to instinctively know what my body craved, even when I wasn't aware my body could respond that way. He always covered my childcare expenses as well as any gas I may use in going to meet him. He had offered to pick me up at home, but I keep my home separate and apart from those I date typically. So, he covered the gas instead. At first I refused, but he told me that he realized if I had to cover it, I wouldn't get to see him that often. If he covered it, I could see him once or twice a week. He said that covering my childcare and gas was doing him a favor. Of course, over time he's made it very clear to me that if I'm dating a man that does not offer to cover the expense of my childcare and gas, than I need to ditch him then and there.

Our second date was at an amazing place I'd wanted to visit for years. On the way to the entrance, he stopped and moved a chair sitting just outside the door in the outside alcove. Quite strange, but so be it. He ordered our food, and I couldn't decide whether to be angry that he ordered without even consulting what I would want, or to just let it slide. When I excused myself to the restroom, he walked with me and waited for me to come out. He then led me outside and at the spot where the chair had once sat, gave me my first kiss. It was so full of passion. Intense. I actually whimpered. Then, he abruptly pulled away and opened the door to lead me back inside. I was so flustered! Attempting to regain control that quickly, knowing that this was MY town, where people knew me.... well, there was a certain provocative appeal to it. Besides, he had taken the time to think ahead and move the chair so that he would have an unobtrusive, though public, location to kiss me. Our first kiss, most assuredly something I would never forget.

We saw each other for a few months. After the first time my daughter walked in on me as I was getting out of the shower and saw the bruises on the backs of my shoulders, I learned to keep them in mind at all times. Although I insisted I had fallen days earlier and hit a large metal rack, she apparently could clearly see that the bruises were in fact bite marks.

Those bruises..... I can't begin to explain what they were like. In the moment the pain of receiving the bites was intense. My health issues only intensified the pain. Each time I would slip into the bathroom at some point and look at the marks on my body that he had left. The first time I think I was in shock. I just stood and stared while a voice in my head screamed, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you let him do that? Don't ever come back to see him again! This is crazy!" However, over the course of those first few days, my outlook changed. I would move a certain way, or turn and pain would ripple out from my deep bruises. It would remind me of him and all the little "weird" things he did with me, or had me do. I would smile and somehow feel taken care of.

When I would arrive at his home, he would get me inside the door and then SMELL ME! He would bury his face deep into my neck and breathe me in. No hello kiss, no hug, he had to smell me first. Then, when he had breathed me in, making sure that I had not showered that day nor put on deodorant or perfume, he would kiss me. It would be a deep, passionate kiss and as soon as I would start to lose myself in it's depths, he'd pull away, command me to strip and disappear to get whatever shirt of his he would give me to wear. Whatever undergarments I was wearing would always disappear. I learned later it was because of my smell.

Sometimes he ordered takeout. Other times he cooked. Sometimes we went out.

Always though he pleasured and pleased me in ways no one ever had. He pushed me to my limits, and on occasion past my limits. I quickly learned that stating "stop" resulted in an immediate halting of whatever was taking place. Rather than be upset, he would pull me close and ask me what was wrong. At first I was hesitant to tell him, but in time I learned that he wanted to know and would hold me and soothe me until it was all OK again. He made it clear that he wouldn't stay away from whatever activity we had been doing forever, but that he would take it slow and ease me into it, at a pace I could cope with. Somehow, he was giving me the strength to push through some of the issues I have from PTSD, and to heal. I don't think he was doing it for that purpose, but then again, maybe he was.

When I would return home, I was always sent with a shirt. I was required to wear the shirt each night when I slept. I had to bring it back with me when I returned the next week (I only had opportunity to see him once a week). I could shave my legs and underarms, but he liked my female essence to remain unshaven.  On the days that I was to come visit him, I was not allowed to shower or put on deodorant. On one occasion I had appointments all day. I got up early, showered, got dressed, put on deodorant and headed out the door. Twelve hours later I walked through his door. He buried his face in my neck and took a deep breath.....or started to. He looked at me and asked, "Deodorant?" I explained I'd been in meetings all day and had no choice. "You always have a choice", he replied. I said nothing. "Will you wear deodorant next time?" I quickly replied, "If I have meetings". He looked at me again in such a patient and calm manner and asked again, "Will you wear deodorant next time?"

In all reality, I have no freaking clue why in that moment all I wanted to do was please him. But I did. I answered him, "No, I will not wear deodorant next time."  He then smiled at me, pulled me to him and whispered into my ear, "If you have meetings, you may wear deodorant. Just be sure to wash it off after your last meeting and before you leave to come here." I couldn't help but smile, all the while feeling safe and secure.

Then, suddenly, with no warning and right after I suffered the death of someone I loved dearly, he broke things off. He gave me no reason. I saw him the night my loved one passed away, and then he blew me off for our next date, something he had never done. When I insisted to know what was going on, he merely said he didn't think we should see each other anymore.

I was so upset. The first thing I did was go out on several dates. One of those dates I started seeing regularly. I should have seen all the signs that something wasn't quite right with this guy. However, all I wanted to do was get "HIM" out of my mind. I broke all my rules, allowing this new guy to come to my home at one point and he even met my children. Several weeks into dating him, he wanted a threesome with his best female friend. I refused. Later that night, at a car event, he slipped something into my drink, a "date rape drug". I was supposed to pass out. Instead I lay screaming on the floor, "He did this to me" while pointing at him. I still haven't' paid off that ambulance and hospital bill. He escaped without charges because there was no "proof" that he is the one that slipped it in my drink. Obviously, I broke things off with him.

I contacted "HIM". I sent him an email and asked him to please tell me why he had broke things off. Rather than answer, he replied, "So, do you want to come have dinner with me or not?" Of course I went, though he never answered my question. I established that this dinner visit did not constitute our seeing each other again, but merely a one night affair. Yet, during the night he held me close, told me that he knew I was his baby, and assured me that he did not want me to go anywhere or be with anyone else.

Yet, rather than plan another date, he sent me a message stating that he didn't think we should see each other.

Months passed. I started dating someone else. My most recent boyfriend who also happened to be a friend of mine for over ten years. We briefly split up around the end of the year.

I sent HIM a message. I told him that I deserved an answer. That I needed to know why he broke things off with me twice.

He invited me to come see him.

He asked me how, after what he and I had together, could I have gotten into two different dating relationships. I looked at him shocked and said, "Because you didn't want me anymore". I was almost in tears. How could he feel gilted for my dating another when he had broken things off with me?

"Do you really want to know why I broke things off with you?"

"Yes, I do."

"OK. You weren't taking care of yourself. You were letting people take advantage of you and use you. You were letting them steal from you and take from you and your children. You kept helping people that only wanted to treat you badly. I couldn't stand by and watch you do that. You deserve better and you need to take better care of your children then that. I just couldn't stay with you knowing that was going on."

Later that night he told me that he cared deeply for me. He said that he felt like I wasn't as "into him" as he was "into me". He said that he didn't want me to be with him if I didn't really want him. I didn't really say much. I felt like he was changing the rules on me. In the past we kept things .....well we just didn't ever address feelings. Before he split up with me that first time, I was so deeply into him. His breaking things off and my not having an explanation for months upon months had hardened me somewhat. I had pulled away and put up walls. He felt those now. I respected his reason for breaking things off, but I was pissed that he had never told me that reason. Later that night, he told me about another source of income he has. One that goes against so much that I believe in. One that threw me so completely I laid awake for hours next to him thinking about it. He sales his body. I still don't know where I stand on that one.

I went home the next morning, thinking in depth about what he said. We made no decisions as to whether or not we would see each other again  I obviously needed to deal with my issues first. He sent me home with an old prepaid cell phone he had as I had not been able to maintain service on mine due to financial reasons. He told me he wanted me to be able to make emergency calls if need be.

My most recent exboyfriend showed up after a week and a half gone. He wanted to work things out. I briefly thought of "HIM", but knowing that HE wasn't someone that would want to be with me longterm and knowing that it would never be more than temporary, I reunited with my boyfriend.

As you may know from my other posts, he and I split up not too long ago. He relapsed, stole my prescription meds, and still denies it while playing the innocent victim. Those that have loved him longer and deeper than I have assured me that he will not tell the truth. They told me that his admissions to them of guilty long past came only after he and I begin to date. I have closed that door, and am looking forward.

I got back in touch with "HIM". I apologized for never having sent back the flip phone. I had thought it had been returned, not realizing it had been sitting in a box in my shop. When he answered, he told me not to worry about it and asked how my boyfriend and I were doing. I let him know that we had split up. He then told me that he had a smart phone that he was going to send me to use and when I received it I could send back his flip phone. Once again, I was speechless.

I contacted him the next day and explained to him that I had thought often of his reasons for breaking up with me. I stated that I knew he was right and that I needed to determine why I had made such bad decisions. I explained that I had made a decision not to date, to remain single, and to stay celibate. I needed to focus on me and my own issues. I thought that he would tell me that he wasn't going to send the smart phone and to send back his old prepaid phone. I didn't think he'd talk to me anymore.

Instead, he told me that he felt like I was doing the right thing. He was proud of me. He wanted me to do what was best for my children and myself. He'd mail the smartphone that same day.

We've text briefly almost each day. Just a basic hi, hope you are well. Tonight he called me.

He explained to me that he didn't want me to feel obligated to him n any way simply because he had given me a phone. He told me that it was a "cheap" smart phone, and that one day soon he'd buy me a really nice phone. He went on to say that if I met a guy that I felt was "the one", that I should pursue it and not feel obligated to him at all. He told me that he is so totally into me, and that he hopes we can see each other again in the future, but not now. He said that now I needed to deal with my "shit" and do what I needed to do to take care of my children and myself. He made sure that I understood that he was not using the phone or anything else he sent me to "hold over my head". He even said, "If you meet somebody, and you start seeing him, after 30 days he pays your phone bill".

I assured him I had no interest in dating anyone. That it didn't matter who I met, I needed to work on myself and that was my priority.

He asked me if I would stop shaving. I laughed and told him I hadn't even shaved my legs in two weeks. He replied, "Could you just act like you're into me and even though we aren't seeing each other now, not shave for me."

This is what appeals to me so much about him. This confident, assured man that leaves me with marks and bruises, that has me kneel beside him and hold him while he urinates, that fucks me so hard that the bed moves from one side of the room to the other, that lays down rules for me that I must obey...... still craves and desires my acceptance of him. In his strength and control that I give him over me, I gain a strength I've never known before.

He'll be sending me a shirt to sleep in as well. He wants it t have my smell.

He said he never wants to pressure me to be with him. He knows I'm doing the right thing now. I'm taking care of myself first, and that is most important.

He didn't say it, but he misses me.

I didn't say it, but I miss him.

There are some things that he and I will have to resolve before we could date again. Those things are down the road though because right now I have to fix me. But they will come into play simply because there are some aspects of my PTSD that I can not face now. Things he really wants to do. Things I tried to do when with him but ended up rocking back and forth in the bottom of my shower, long after the hot water had run out. Things that send me back to "then". Some things I dont' know that I'll ever be able to do, but felt like he was pressuring me. Things I wanted to do for him because he pleases me so well and I want to please him, but just can't.

We'll have to discuss those things one day should we decide to date again.

For now, I'm working on me.

Unshaven.

Soon to be in his shirt at night.

Safe.

His Proposition

Well, I can honestly say that I've had something happen that has NEVER happened to me before. I can't say that I haven't entertained the idea, but I have been taken quite by surprise.

Ultimately, a much younger man has told me that he would like to do some of my chores, massage my feet, be my footrest, clean my shoes, etc.

Well now, what's a confident, independent gal to say to that?

I do not know much about the sub/dom relationship, except that I do not believe it should be merely about the sexual aspects. Hell, I think it's not supposed to be about the sexual elements AT ALL. I believe that a true dom/sub relationship should be about one person wanting to take the lead in all responsibilities, thought processes, decisions, etc and the other person being so grateful for that direction that they humbly submit, wanting to please the one that cares for them so amazingly.

Fortunately, I've been blessed to come in contact with others that also do not believe it should be about sex.

That said, the idea of having a submissive male that would be willing to cater to my whim and fancy....... a man that would not question or debate or argue..... a man that would trust me enough not to break or shatter any part of his being.....

I find that so very empowering.

It feeds and fuels my confidence.

It makes me want to journey forth in this experience to learn, explore, grow.

Someone told me, "You can't be a dom unless you've once been a sub."

I call bullshit.

Because even though I've never been in an alternative dom/sub lifestyle, I have been in plenty of shitty and even some really bad abusive ones. I know how to give everything you have in an effort to save a marriage. I know how to sacrifice so much that at times you don't know where he ends and you begin. I also know what happens when you give so much of yourself and the person you give it to does not show you unconditional love, support, forgiveness and respect. I know that shattering. I know that splintering. I also know how to support, lift up, and help people grow. I am a caregiver by nature.

Have I ever been a "dom"? No, but I'm 99.9% sure that I would do a hell of a lot better with it then the people I see who have miserable subs that only repeat what they've been told they must say.

I'm sure someone along the way is going to blast me as arrogant for thinking I could do what a dom can do.

The fact of the matter is, the people I consider to be "true doms" are the ones that know that I do not presume to have their knowledge, their experiences or their skills. They will totally "get" what I mean by this post and though they know any attempts I make now would be going in blind, they will understand the points behind this post.  Because they see through the illusion that exist in this lifestyle. They see the depth that should be there that is missing. They actually give a fuck about their subs/slaves and would never seek to do anything that would cause permanent damage.

 I mean, there are support groups for former slaves/subs!!!

Back to the proposition that was made to me.......

I do believe I feel giddy!

;-)

Now to see if he actually reads my writings.

True submission is not fear.....it's devotion

When I first started learning about different aspects of the master/slave dynamic, I was dumbfounded. I saw men and women that were miserable, no self esteem, and serving out of fear. I didn't understand it. Then, I ran across a site that chronicled the life of a master and his two slaves. When he took in those two slaves, they were beaten down, dejected, felt worthless. They had been brutally abused and mistreated. Yet, this master built them up. He took away their day to day stresses (what to eat, what to do with their time, what to wear, etc) so that the focus could be on their emotional and mental healing. In time, they grew in amazing ways and went out into the world confident and happy. They went to college, obtained employment and were downright happy. They respected their master and their devotion to him for all that he had given them was profound. This is when I realized that I longed for that type of healing and begin to wonder if that would be the path I would take to get there.

However, that master is a rarity. He didn't take his pleasure and then give to them with "after care". He cared for them every second of every day and met their needs first. They cared for him out of true devotion, not fear. They trusted him. He believed in them.

I can never imagine trusting anyone to that extent. I can't imagine giving anyone control of my life.

But what I wouldn't do for just a short period where the stress of survival alone was removed from me.

Freaking Hilarious

This is yet another to the ex, but so worth the read....


Sooooo, do you remember the night we were both sitting in bed on our computers/phones and you showed me this pic??

You may also remember that I looked at you quite shocked!

You:  "Why are you looking at me like that? This is cool. (our dog) could sleep underneath."

Me: "Ohhhh, I see."

You: "Why? What did you think I meant?"

Me: "Nothing, I just wasn't paying attention."

TRUTH: I saw this and my mind immediately went to how a sub/slave may sleep underneath. I thought it was perfect, beautiful. Close at hand yet still knowing that they had not obeyed. That they needed redirection. The symbolism of the master/dom releasing them and carrying them directly above to minister to their needs..... ahhhh.

It's just so damn beautiful.

But I couldn't tell you, because you would have once again looked at me like I was crazy. Then, you would have pulled away, acted distant, and be withdrawn during what little sex we did share.

Who knows, maybe one day you'll see this and realize.

FetLife

Fetlife helped me realize that I wasn't alone. That other people, like me, need non-typical experiences to enjoy sex.

Fetlife also taught me that I have serious trust issues.

Fetlife taught me that I am a control freak.

I haven't' exactly found my niche on FetLife. As in all of life, I appear not to "fit" anywhere.

So, here are my personal reflections:

Slave: Absolutely NOT. There are things I will not do, ever. I know those things stem from being sexually abused in the past. However, I'll never let go that much control.

Having a slave: A year ago, I was thinking along those lines. However, now I'm tapped out. I don't want to take care of other people anymore. I've been building self esteem, catering to others, caring for others for a long time. I know some will argue that is not the role in a master/slave relationship but I call bullshit. To have someone follow your every wish would be the sincerest form of devotion, something to be cherished and cared for beyond compare. One day I am certain I'll re-entertain this idea, but for the moment I have nothing left to give.

Sub: At this point, I want to be a sub in real  life, but not all the time in the bedroom. *sigh I have yet to hear anyone else say that. I want someone to pick my clothes, tell me how to fix my hair, tell me what to eat, tell me where to go, what to spend, what to do to take care of myself. I want someone to set out a schedule that takes all the worry and stress of day to day life AWAY. I want to be able to go to bed at night knowing everything is OK, that I didn't forget anything, and that I can just cease to think for a bit. However, in the bedroom, though I do love being the sub, I also like taking complete control and pleasing the man that I am with. I like to feel the explosive release they have when they've not been able to control it, and I can move in ways that entice strong currents through their body. I don't want to give that up. I don't want it all the time, but most assuredly won't give it up. At the same time, I enjoy it when both people want to be dominant at the same time (in a joking, fun way). Yes, in the bedroom I am very multi-faceted and do not want to change that. Of course, finding a man confident enough to handle that is rare.

Dom: Nah....no desire. Of course, I'm new to all the definitions and terms and maybe I'm viewing dom/sub and slave/master differently but although I could see myself potentially as master one day, not dom.

At one point in time I would have felt hopeless despair that I was so tired of the day to day stuff life entails. However, I have spoke with subs and slaves and their experiences have made me crave that even more. That total lack of decision making.

Could I trust someone so completely to turn over control of my every day life? Most likely not. Yet it is something I crave in the deepest parts of my soul.

I am so very tired.

The Reason Why You Never Made Me CUM....

I tried to tell you. I told you that I had to have it, well, different. Non-vanilla. I don't want pain, well not alot of it. Just a little.

You pulled my hair ONE TIME. Then you quit. Why? 

You slapped my ass on two different occasions. Then you quit. Why? 

You could kiss as if a demi-God sent upon this earth to tantalize by tongue and lips alone. I could lie in your kisses for hours. 

But I still wanted to lose myself in sex. 

You are an addict. Addicted to Molly, and heroin, and prescription pills that you snort to no end. 

I am addicted to sex. 

Yet a very unique kind of sex. 

Sex where I trust the person I'm with to take care of me. To make me feel just enough pain that I can relax and lose myself in the moment. Yet, not enough pain that the old familiar panic hits. 

You asked me why. 

Why could I only orgasm if it was rough, repetitive, and hard? 

Why would I only squirt like that, when I had so many times before been beaten and raped against my will? 

I could not answer you. 

Anymore than you could answer me as to why you couldn't stand to cause me even the slightest pain, despite my begging for it. Despite my wanting the full release of orgasm. 

You and I...... we both have been abused. She tortured you. He tortured me. Yet somehow we came out of it on opposite sides of the spectrum. 

You: soft, loving, gentle, romantic. 

Me: hardened, calloused, rough, practical. 

Did I ever tell you why I loved you so? 

You told me that you felt like I could look inside you, past the walls, and see the part of you that you kept hidden and locked away. 

That hidden part you kept locked away is why I loved you. 

Because you were as hideously broken, shattered and beautiful as I am.