Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Turning the Calendar and Favourite Reads

I have missed Blogland so much over this past week....the holidays! 
They are such a strange timewarp. 
I plan on being back next week. 
I'm just a little busy..and the first novel might have made its way into the first tier of editing... Yea! I'm quite happy about it. 

New Year's Eve, doesn't really mean much to me--honestly, I went all out and celebrated the "new year" back in October. 
But this day, every year is kind of like a petit anniversary for Sir and I. 
Because it was more than a decade ago now, where we had our first 'overnight date'--in a way, it was the beginning of our long courtship. 
And I remember those details so clearly. 
It was the first time I fell asleep in his arms. 
Thank the stars, there have been many more times since. 

Je vous présente mes meilleurs vœux pour l'année 2014!

From the archives of 2013, I give you some well loved favourites: 

A Moment of Irresponsibility 
On His Authority 
The Care and Feeding of the Dom Ego
Reflecting: Discipline and Lessons 
A Temple
The Dom Call
Grouchy But Owned 
Softly Submissive 
Finding Kink in the Strength of Vanilla 
Growth Hurts
About the Pain
What Happened to Monday? 

Thank-you for spending 2013 with me! Thank-you for reading!

Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Joyeux Noël!

We have snow, steadily falling and the only good thing about that is that it has warmed up a bit. 
I'm still sore and bruised from a play session we had on Saturday-it was quite a way to spend the Winter Solstice.
 It wasn't a particularly intense session, but Sir isn't exactly gentle. 
Yesterday, I made cookies.
All day.
Five dozen sugar cookies and four dozen gingerbread. 

I hate sugar cookies--its like a ruined shortbread cookie and not quite enough to be much else, in my opinion, but I make them because Sir likes them. 
The cookie baking took all day--but when your only goal is to make cookies, that's a good day in life. 
I have more baking to do today and a Hovel to tidy and clean. 
I don't mind the work, the fuss or the mess. 
It feels all cozy and home and hearthy in the Hovel. 
I'm looking forward to having family for dinner and having everyone together. 

It was a surprise to me, yesterday that I didn't have to dedicate an hour of study and an hour of coursework. My class is done for now and the absence of it made me realize how much focus and energy it took up. 
Now, I can shift gears and get back to the novel and hopefully have that edited and off to beta-readers (critters) during this holiday break--thank-you all for the support, encouragement and patience you have given me. I truly appreciate it. 

Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas!
Joyeux Noël mes amis!

Friday, 20 December 2013

Friday Fragments: The Snow

Our little village, does not handle snow very well. 
Which is very ironic--because you would think they would have had some practice by now. 
Snowstorm on the weekend, and plows are still not finished and road conditions have been horrible all week. 
I have felt snowed under. 
My entire focus this week has been preparing for the final stage of my course, which ended yesterday culminating in a presentation. 
The Hovel's cupboards are pretty bare, the cleaning has been minimal and when you are rather fanatic about it, the little things show. 
I practiced the presentation, over and over again. 

"Come here, Bleue. Read it for me."
"I don't want to read it in front of you", I said. 

He croaked an eyebrow and gestured for me to sit at his feet.
Strange, that I felt weird about going through a presentation that I was going to present to total strangers in front of Sir, but I did. 

"Why do you want me to?" I asked. 
"It's good practice. I don't get to hear you in class. I want to hear you speak on something you've worked so hard on." 
There isn't much I haven't done in front of Sir. 
He has the right to riffle through my notebooks, my innermost private thoughts. 
Eating at his feet is part of the normal, that happens pretty often. 
He's set me to humiliating tasks and positions of all kinds and I'm balking at running through the presentation in front of him. 
"You'll be critical", I said. 
He does everything perfectly. Which can make him a bit of a snob at times, innumerably helpful at other and his intelligence and natural abilities is something I constantly marvel at---though I think its a great joke of Fate that I would love a man who does everything seamlessly--compared to me, who has always struggled to do everything, even by halves. 
"No I won't."
"You'll point out what I could do better."
"I'll help you."
"It's fine", I said. 

"I want to hear you read it". 
"You'll make fun of me", I said, in the littlest smallest voice
That was from the voice, that still after all this time and all these miles and kinds of accomplishments, that still lingers in a dark place in my heart. 
Its the voice that says: You're not good enough. You're not strong enough. You don't deserve this. You can't have this. You're different, you're wrong, you're stupid.
Funny, how it shows up. 
Sir's presence, his incredible devotion and love in motion, makes that voice raring up, a rare thing. 
Clearly, I was doing what is called, 'projecting.' 
"Come here, Bleue and read it for me."
I scooted over to his feet, he stroked my hair for awhile and then raised my chin. 

"You're my perfect blue girl." 
After a little more protesting, I clicked open the PowerPoint, grabbed my notes and read it. 
"That was really good", Sir said. 
"Are you sure?"

And then I read it again, after more hugs of reassurance and tea. 
"You improved from the first reading to this second. You have this", Sir said. 
His confidence and belief in me, is a different kind of air. It allows me to be more.
It allows me to go after the things I want, pushing fear out of the way and keeping that little voice shut up tight.. 
Sir went and worked, I retreated to bed, re-reading my notes over and over again. 
I fell asleep with them in my hand. 
I woke up a little bit later and stumbled out to the kitchen. 
Sir was washing dishes, at 1:30sih in the morning. 
I hugged him and told him that he was the most amazing master-husbandy-ever. 
Because he is. 

Friday, 13 December 2013

Friday Fragments: That Sex Thing

It has happened, where I've been asked about the sex thing.
As in, "So you have sex whenever he wants?"
And it kind of makes me laugh.
Being available for sex, is the least of my worries.

 I've never, ever withheld sex.
 I didn't even know, that that fact made me somehow abnormal until I started blogging here.
Because, I don't understand that mentality--it rubs against my core in a strange way.
Sex is natural, it is a need, it is healthy (of course, speaking in the context of two consenting adults) and it is one of those things that feeds the well of a relationship...why would I ever deny that?
 Even when I have been angry, or upset or frustrated...and indeed, he has ended several arguments by a good hard boink.
So sex, is no big deal.
Having it the way he wants it and when...does occasionally strike an inner battle within me.

Last night. 
After the exam (which I don't feel great about) and a very jam packed class, which left me needing to decompress. 
Home right from the train. 
It was cold.
I was frozen solid. 

My head couldn't get to where he wanted it to be. 
I didn't refuse him--but I did argue. 
He wanted me on the floor. 
I pointed out that the floor was cold and I was still unthawed. 
And I might have caved into my frustrations and reacted in a negative way to his advances. 

Night before, his pillow woke me up in the middle of the night. 
Have I mentioned, I have crazy-ass hearing? (which more often than not, lands me in trouble).
He had moved in his sleep, knocked the pillow, pillow hit the water bottle. 
The *tink* sound of the pillow hitting the bottle is what woke me. 
So in the middle of the night, I mop up the water and tossed him a pillow from the pile that sits in the corner and our stack of toys is parked under the pillow heap.
Hadn't realized this pillowcase was a trifle dusty.

It ended with us in the bedroom, me having been tossed rather unceremoniously on the bed, onto the pillow. 
That's when I realized the pillowcase was dusty. 
It got to me--all of it--I might have made a comment about how he couldn't be bothered to change the pillowcase...right, I know
"No woman of mine talks to me like that. I'm going to fuck you now and you are not going to say a word.You can be an animal right now and growl."
I followed orders. 
Because..you know...there really wasn't any good alternatives. 
But still, my head, not there yet. 

He grabbed me and put an arm across my neck, and plunged into me from behind. 
Right to the hilt. 
Accompanied my making all kinds of ah, interesting noises. 
He bite my neck hard, his lips over my collar--and that was the moment, my head finally made that click and was where he wanted it. 
Hard and fast and he didn't stop for a very long time. 

The shoulder, still sore.
He grabbed hold of it at one point and pulled me up towards him. 
Seriously, I should never have told him its sore.
Because telling a sadist not to touch something that hurts, is like asking a kid not to eat candy. 

Afterwards, he cuddled me on his chest and said, "That's a good bleu animal, I think I'll keep you." 
"You have no choice", I said. 
"I could always adopt you out", he replied. 

I think, going where he leads, even if my head isn't there yet, is something that has come with experienced, its something learned. 
But I know, to trust him. 
Even if his processes drive me mad, he has an endgame in mind. 
And it always works out. 

Have a good weekend, my friends!

Wednesday, 11 December 2013


Life is good. 
Overall, it is really, really good. 
Contentment, who would have  thought?
But at the moment...
I'm all over the place.
A little jittery. 
A bit worried. 
And anxious. 
Pending final exams does that to me.
If I had any confidence at all that I would actually pass this course... 

Sir called this afternoon. 
Which was very, very nice. 
But I miss him. 
And there is apart of me that scoffs, that thinks that's pathetic. 
I will see him in a few hours. 

And I did something to my shoulder between last night and this morning, it hurts.
A lot. 

Book Progress? It's slow. 
And it amuses me that I'm being hoofed by bunch of submissive women *grins*. 

"Not to pressure you, but I was just wondering how the book is coming?"
"I'm very excited to read the book. You're almost done?"
"Whenever you are done with the book, please send it along."
"I can't wait to read it. If you want to send it during the holidays, its okay."

It has to be the most positive (although passive-aggressive) reverse pressure encouragement ever. 

But seriously, 

Thank-you all. 
All the emails and comments have kept me motivated and pushed me onwards to the end. 

Tuesday, 10 December 2013

What Happened to Monday?

I try to be consistent and update Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 
Sometimes, I do write a post each day. 
Yesterday there was no post. 
And to find out why, we have to examine what happened on Sunday. 
We had a great weekend, even with Sir working. 
Sunday night, I was restless so I got up out of bed and went upstairs. 
One thing led to another and next thing I knew, I was face down on the floor, and Sir was picking up random objects. 
Not really random. He was on an exploration of upstairs Hovel, finding showing that in fact, we did have toys everywhere. 
Three different types of bamboo canes-and the small thin one had some good snap. 
Paddles and belts and canes. 
And (we don't know how they ended up there) four different gags. 
Sir worked me over every well with all of these implements. 
Including a piece of leather, that's folded  in half but lightweight. It doesn't hurt but it is another snappy thing and it makes a really loud sound. 
That set him off on the path of exploiting my noise-sensitivity, which was very uncomfortable for me and highly amusing to him. 
Then he held me down and boinked me hard. 
Did I mention all of this occurred at around 1:30am? 
Sir was tired, I was wound up but managed to sleep. 
And both of us slept through the alarm clock that goes off stupid early each morning. 
He was late for work. 
Him being late, is no big deal. But being late, makes me anxious and I was anxious because he was late.
And I was behind schedule. 

I had worked more hours on Friday so that I could have Monday free--to study my arse off for an end of the year exam. 
I managed to study all day Monday. 
But by the evening, I was sulky. 
A couple of snarky comments came out of my mouth when Sir got home. 
He made a suggestion, after dinner, on how I could study a section and I flipped. 
"What's wrong with you?" He asked. 
I was jittery and not feeling great. 
Really good chance that this could be subdrop. 

Sometimes, I forget. 
Especially because more often than not, the drop hits me a day or two after. 
I fed myself some fruit and made tea. 
Sir suggested a bath.
Lovely bath, hot and filled with juniper oils and epsom salts. 
Warm, steamy bathroom. 
Sir came in and talked to me while I was bathing. 
I said I was feeling better, more centred. 
Less jittery. 
We talked about a work project and about the relatives visiting and how their is a laundry problem. 
He reached over and slapped my breast and said he really liked the raspberry muffins I made this week. 
I replied and said I like this buying-frozen-fruit-thing that we started to do during winter. 
He slapped my other breast. 
I asked how long he was going to work tonight. 
He replied he wasn';t sure and I could I please turn over?
I complied and his hand came down hard on my backside. 

I looked up, saw that he had dropped his pants. 
I moved towards him, he waved me off. 
"I own you. I can do whatever I want to do you, whenever I want" and then he relieved himself into the tub, all over me. 
Gestured for me to turn over. 
I did and he put his hands on my head and moved me into position. 
After that, I drained the tub, asked for permission to shower. 
Showered for a very long time (and blessed the Hovel's water pressure) and Sir met me with a big fluffy towel, he dried me off. 
"You ruined my aftercare bath", I  teased. 
"That's my right", he said. 
Then I went and read and he went to work and it was a lovely night at the Hovel. 

Sometimes, it happens like this.
 Spontaneity is totally natural and easy. 

And now, I have to go run errands in -15C because I couldn't get to them yesterday, when it was warmer. 

Friday, 6 December 2013

Friday: Likes, Loves and Dislikes

It's been a spinning, exhilarating, contentment filled week!
And its all kind of exhausting, but in a good kind of exhausting way. 

I have certainly felt the love from Blogland this week. 
Many thanks to the handfuls of people who wrote me emails about the Getting Edgy post, it was nice to know it struck a chord. 
Writing for me, is always a constant and continual process of figuring out the "Why"... 
More thanks to Jz for gathering all the bakers of our little corner of Blogland together; the recipe exchange was a blast. 
 A huge welcome to a new but old friend, McKitten!

Tori's posts usually make me think. 
One of the points she illustrated this week, was how it can be hard to convey to people that this (gestures wildly), actually happens. That there are many of us who are living in D/s M/s, 24/7 relationships.
Its even harder to explain, if you happen to be the 's' type on that side.

 And if you happen to be living your power exchange dynamic in a consensual slavery type way. 

I think, a lot of people, even other kinksters, have this idea that to be a slave, is to be pleasing and kind of Stepfordish- robotic, to never do anything the master doesn't like. 
 I do things Horace dislikes all the time (I'm going prove it right in this post). 
And while to be pleasing is a tiny part of it, and to be the doormat even is a major part of it, consensual slavery doesn't mean to be without opinions or personality. 
It means surrendering-ongoing, constantly, continually- the "rights" or the "power" that you do have to another--the details, the ins and outs and specifics of how that plays out is as individualistic as the people who are the M and S.
And yeah, all of that can be hard to explain or to encourage positive thinking about. 

We have had lots of rough and tumbling and 2am play this week. Its been downright blissfully charmed. 
I'm getting more okay with this contentment thing... 

Its not that I don't like music, its that it is hard to find music that I like and doesn't bother me. 
Or my nervous system. 
And Horace loves music. He even has the brain for it. 
So every time he hears me play something, he encourages it.
He is happy when I make a play list (its rare). 

I have a play list for Hovel-cleaning.
And one Saturday, I was playing it. Loudly. 

Horace came home barely said hello, instead said, "What the f**k are you listening to?" 
Mega extreme and WAY uncharacteristic reaction from him. 
Like I had a moment of wondering what had happened to my husband kind of moment. 
And that's how I learnt that Horace is not too fond of P!nk. 

 But you know.. I like it...(this is the doing something that he doesn't like part)...and wasn't told not to and Horace isn't here...*grins*

Je vous souhaite un bon week-end, mes amis!

Thursday, 5 December 2013

Gingerbread Cake: Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza!

We are a little obsessed with gingerbread around here, at this time of year.
One year, I made a giant gingerbread house completely from scratch.
In a couple of weeks, I will be rolling out the dough for gingerman cookies. 
There will be non-stop baking as cookies, bars, fudge and cakes get made for Solstice and Christmas. 
And truth be told, I can take or leave most of the treats. 
I do love to bake though and it is a lot of fun for me to go crazy-baking-machine around the holidays. 

I love the memories of Christmas.
 I loved all the sentimental traditions and I loved the whole family gathering. 
The Petit déjeuner de Noël at my parents was always impressive and came after presents but before going to mass and long before the late evening dinner. 

But it is funny, how as you grow, the traditions morph and change too.
Family may still be present but its not quite the same as it was.

 And now of course, there is Horace's family and new traditions of light displays and once a yearly made chutneys.
And it is funny how, certain traditions stay. 
Even though we will celebrate the Winter Solstice and by the time the family comes to the hovel for Christmas, Horace and I will feel like we are truly done with all the feasting, this past weekend, when we were putting up the decorations, I couldn't help but play those Christmas carols. 

This Gingerbread cake screams Christmas. 
It is dark, rich, moist and gingery and delicious mouthfuls of spices. 

It is very important, not to skimp on the spices.

 Dump in those teaspoons and tablespoons. 
And the leftover ginger always has another use, as Horace reminds me every time I make this cake. 

It looks impressive--especially with heapings of whip cream.
Freezes well and is always better the second day. 

The recipe is also pretty versatile: go ahead and experiment. 
Instead of water for the liquid, I have used apple cider or milk and both have worked well--changing the density and flavours slightly.
It is a cake that could be easily be on hand for those last minute visits and visitors. 
Could be. 
But you see, my friends, this is my Christmas Kickoff Dessert. 
Ce gâteau est pas pour la table. 
Oh, go ahead and put it on your table next to the cookies and bars and all the other sweets... but I don't. 

This is the cake you eat while putting up decorations. 
It is the cake you eat while you are wrapping gifts. 
It is the cake you have with a glass of mulled cider or red wine after visiting the relatives. 
It is the cake you have when the whole festive hoopla is making you long to be on a plane, anywhere but here. 
And its the cake that will cause never-ending threats of ginger in dark places if your Domly type happens to be by while you are making it. 
Can't say I didn't warn you...

I'm thrilled to be participating in  Jz's Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza!
All of the treats look so incredibly amazing! Take a look below for the list of participating bakers.

Gingerbread Cake Holiday Kickoff Dessert 

2 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup shortening (or butter, or coconut oil)
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 cup molasses
3/4 cup hot water (or milk, or apple cider)
1 teaspoon baking soda
4 Tablespoons ground ginger
2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 Tablespoon ground cloves
2 teaspoons nutmeg
2 teaspoons allspice
2 teaspoons cardamon
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons Grated Fresh Ginger
1 egg
Heat oven to 325°F.
Grease and flour bottom and sides of 9-inch square pan (or a 9inch round pan)
In large bowl, add the water (or liquid) and molasses together, then add the rest of the ingredients.
Use an electric mixer, or stand mixer or by hand and beat well, scraping the bowl often.
When ingredients are all blended, pour into pan and insert into oven.
    Bake 50 to 55 minutes or until toothpick inserted in centre comes out clean.
    Let the cake cool in the pan completely before removing from pan.
    This cake will last for several days and is always better to eat on the second day. 
    Serve with a whole lot of whip cream and enjoy!

Bakers 2013

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

Getting Edgy: Thoughts on Humiliation Play

Another grey day.
Where I am working with too little sleep and trying to push through.
Before diving into today's post, some points of interests.
Book Update: Furiously scrawling the last chapter.
The end of the first novella is so close. Its annoying.
Those who graciously offered to be beta-readers, please, pretty please get in touch. I need your email addresses. Drop me a line here: authorbluemorgan@gmail.com

Tomorrow, I am thrilled to be participating in Jz's Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza

All right.

Though I have written here and there about humiliation play before, I've kind of skirted it. Even sharing examples, is still not really talking about it. 

There just seems to be such strong opinions about the whole thing.
What is constant fascination for me in this alphabet soup of kink, S&m, D/s, M/s...is how it can influence a person deeply and irrevocably.
It changes one. It has the ability to bring out and stretch someones very potential of character and being.

And that interests me greatly how a power exchange is give and take but how much influence it creates. When you hand power over to another person, that has an affect. And how that affect manifests is sometimes scary but present and penetrates your day to day thinking and living.

For me, nothing highlights the manifestation of our entire dynamic more than humiliation play.
 It truly is my kink.
And I'm in for the full spectrum: Humiliation, Degradation and Objectification.

Quick definitions: Humiliation can be summed by the feelings of shame and embarrassment, being reduced to being lowered in another person's eyes or your own.
There seems to be a general widespread thought that humiliation  has to occur publicly and I'm not sure why this is exactly. It is possible to be humiliated and embarrassed just by being in an audience of one.

Degradation: It is a type of humiliation but pulls on those mental strings in an unique way. Degradation is about treating someone poorly, without respect and often attacking their self-worth.

Objectification: is all about making someone feel like nothing more than an object but it can also be about objectifying parts of a person.

Out of all the glorious and wonderful activities we engage in, humiliation play is the one that makes my mind completely mush, leaves my body quivering and soaking wet. It is an extreme state of being controlled. 
It is also something that causes incredible vulnerability.

Not only is my body being controlled, but where I am mentally. 
And control is truly His kink so we do meet in the middle on this one.
Now of course, what is humiliating to one isn't humiliating to another. He has the great ability to take something common place and bring it to new levels.


Eating a cupcake is not humiliating.
I've eaten plenty of cupcakes in my time and the act of eating the cupcake doesn't make me gush in the right places or numb my mind.

A beautiful summer day, we stopped into one of our favourite hunts in the village and He bought two cupcakes. We took them by the lake. Found a shady spot under a tree.
He was in one of those moods, and all day had been planting seeds of anticipation in my head. Telling me about future scenes he would like to do, saying what state he would like me to be in and what he would like to do to my body. What he wanted me to do.
We are sitting under tree, in the picturesque setting, watching people stroll by on the path, kids and dogs and elderly couples.

He opens up the container, takes out a cupcake and it starts.
He broke off a tiniest piece and fed it to me.
All the while, using words.
Telling me just how much nothing I was, how dirty, disgusting, how much I depended on him (which goes directly against my fiercely held belief of independence) and how much I needed to do do nothing other than please him. I'm sure you get the drift.
He kept feeding me the cupcake for a while and then shifted me so my head was kind of on his lap, all very casual.
He put his fingers in my mouth, with cupcake bits.
He fed cupcake to me with pieces of grass.
He tangled his hand in my hair, moved me so I was sitting up again, leaning against him.
And continued feeding me the cupcake.
By the time he was done, I was a gushing mess.
And it was severely inconvenient and amused Him to no end.

In that example, there are all the good ingredients of what can make a successful humiliation play.
I am picky about food and eating, in general.
Him feeding me by hand, just attacked that mindset.
His words: he attacked my self-worth in bringing up dependence and not only did he bring it up, he also demonstrated how much that was true.
He held me in place and denied me what I wanted, by sitting alone: release.

In this particular instant, there was also the added thrill of being in a public place and having to control my own reactions.
The memory is pleasant and fuzzy around the edges because a good subspace will do that.
Oh, I know.
“But Bleue, we're not supposed to put our kink on people!”
It comes down, I think, to each their own.
He wasn't walking me around naked by a leash in a public park.
To anyone who glanced our way, it would have looked like nothing more other than a couple sharing a cupcake. Or Him feeding me a cupcake.
It would have been “Awww that's cute!” kind of reactions not: “What are those perverts doing?”
There are always degrees.

Now that this has been shared and written and posted, I am going to go and bake the treat I plan on sharing tomorrow so I can have pictures.
See the lengths I go to for you all?

Monday, 2 December 2013

One of Those Days

I'm having a hard time motivating myself to get going today. 
Life has been busy and has left little time for soicalizing and I kind of miss it. 
I might not need a lot of being around people, but I do like a dose of it from time to time. 
We spent Sunday night 'putting up Christmas'. Even though we aren't putting up a tree this year, there was still a lot to do. 
Going through old boxes of decorations is like discovering new but familiar things. 
The Hovel is starting to look festive. 
Its cold and grey outside and I really just want to climb into bed. 
But you know, there is stuff to do.
Bruises from one heck of a paddling is slowing my process down, too. 
Or I'm blaming the bruises. 
Horace decided on Saturday to use every impact tool we have. 
Last week wasn't a good week. 
More often than not, I get this submission thing. 
And usually its the norm. 
Its so ingrained now, I barely have to think about it. 
But every once and awhile... 
I feel like I am giving more...
Not more than he is, but I feel stretched to that giving point. 
And then it all gets to me. 
And I react-because I'm not one to hide my emotions. 
And things get a little screwy for a bit. 
But he always knows how to rein me back in. 
And this time, he did it with a series of percussions to my body. 

A new week. 
And I do feel like my energy reserves are replenished. 
Its just grey and cold and dark out there... 
But I have this playing in the background. 
And I don't have to look far for motivation, I feel it every time I move...

Tuesday, 26 November 2013


We debate. 
Its a great past time of ours. 
We'll debate about various philosophies (had a really great one the other night on how it is the cynic's job to carry the lamp...started by the cynic), presenting our opinions to each other on why things are the way they are, life, family, world news, whatever really catches our trains of thought.
Horace is very good at letting me know why he wants me to do something--of telling me his motivation. 
And sometimes, if I don't like it or it isn't setting well with me, he will say, "Then present me with an argument of why it isn't the best option or offer an alternative".
Sometimes, there is no way I can get around his perfectly wrapped up cube of logic and I kind of pout in frustration. 
He will say, "Really? That's the best you can do. You have a chance from stopping something you don't like to be a permanent fixture and you're pouting?" 
An example. 
A couple of months ago, I wasn't feeling the blogging bug. 
Ran out of topics, or had too much to say and the words wouldn't come. 
He noticed this. 
He wants me to write. 
He thinks writing is good for me. 
So he gave the directive of having to write three posts a week on both blogs. 
That's six posts per week. 
For awhile, I was able to manage this. But then as I started getting closer to the novel, it became harder for me to post on Blue Morgan.
I had (and have) nothing book-related to share, I'm not ready to reveal the book, and it was suddenly linked to the novel in my head. 

I said to Horace, "Writing on Blue Morgan is becoming frustrating. May I leave it for now?" 
He said, "Give me a good argument." 

I tried. 
I cited all the reasons that I gave you here, and added, "I really feel as if its affecting my creativity on the novel. Its like a cart before the horse thing." 
He considered all those reasons, combine with everything I have going on, and released me from the task. 

And I breathed a huge sigh of relief. 
It can be that easy. 
But only because he knows how much I do for him. 
How much I strive to turn over to him. 
He knows I don't always find this submission thing easy and I still choke on that "surrender" word. 

He is not the type to take anything by force. 
He won't wrestle control from me. 
He won't yell and shout at me. 
He sets the mode of operating and I'm expected to follow. 

We have never, been mistaken for opposite roles at an event--it might be due to the collar around my neck.
But I can see how it would be puzzling to some to look at Horace and conclude, "Dominant." 
And I think those impressions are wrong. I don't think a Dominant is necessarily the loudest, strongest in the room.
Though, the really smart ones, will see him quietly sit in a corner, watching and come and join us--some do recognise that quiet, watchful, in-control, confidence Horace has. 

I've written on here before about "Gentlemen" and how aggression is so often mistaken for Dominance. Its a topic I am always scrawling somewhere about because it fascinates me and I'm trying to figure it out.
 There are so many elements to it. 

As I am constantly reading and puzzling this topic out, I often come across information that really makes me think. Such as this video did: How Movies Teach Manhood: http://www.ted.com/talks/colin_stokes_how_movies_teach_manhood.html

Friday, 22 November 2013

Friday Fragments: About A Protocol

Last week...or a couple of weeks ago (my recollection of timing has been worse than usual), there were several posts floating around Blogland about the bathroom.
It kind of gives an immediate connotation of 'ick'.
I am going to push past the ick factor and share.

Master likes control. You might say, he has a thing for it. 
He likes having control of my body. 
He likes bringing me to that place of controlling my mental state--and I think maybe that element, is a big one that contributes to my love of humiliation play-I digress.
He knows full well what buttons to push and triggers to pull by this point. 

As there really are no rules (other than the one "obey me"), I can't even call it a rule. We'll go with protocol. A lot of things that may have looked like rules years ago are increasingly looking like protocols. Hmm. 

I have to ask permission to use the bathroom. 
And sometimes I am required to be more specific than that.
As in "May I use the toilet, Sir?" 

I'm not a fond of this protocol. 
Its habitual. 
I do it. 
But I don't like it. 

Why Bleuame? 
I don't like it, not because I have to ask permission for something I've been doing on my own for a very long time, not because he has that much control, not because it can make me blush, not because his replies to that question can be awfully interesting and amusing but because...

Practically, every other submissive female I have ever met, has the same protocol. 
Not unique. 

He didn't care that I found it boring or not unique enough.
In fact, sometimes, he likes to watch me suffer in my boredom. 
To him, it was control he could excrete, with very little effort and watch me squirm and be uncomfortable, was just an added bonus, I'm sure. 

For quite a long while, there was this rule in play and its still in play, just changed.
The crazy thing and often hard thing to explain about D/s is the give and take. 

So...one day Horace offered a compromise. 
He knew, I just wasn't going to like this bathroom control thing but recognized, I was doing it for him. 
He also knew, that it was a little thing that was setting it off from boredom to being interesting and keeping me further engaged. 
The little things do matter. 

When he is home, I still have to ask permission. 
However, when he is not at home, I don't have to ask permission. 
And I don't have to ask permission in the middle of the night. 
As long as I am clamped (which means, putting the clothes pegs on parts of my body), I am free to use the bathroom whenever I want, without asking for permission to do so. 

He has taken this to new and often creative heights.
Sometimes, he'll give me a certain number and location. 
"Today, you must put the clamps on your nipples, three times." 
I can put the clamps on my tongue, on my lips, if I'm in a hurry sometimes I pinch them to my collar. 

And there is certainly a humilation element to this.
Do I like this?
Well, 'like' isn't the word. 

Am I less bored? Do I find it a little more interesting?

What can I say?
He met me halfway. 

Avoir un bon week-end mes amis!

Thursday, 21 November 2013


Still high from clementines. 

And that's pretty much all I got today. 
A book update: le mot du jour est "Closer". 
Looking forward to catching up bloggie friends, soon. 

Obviously, my muse still might be with lil's and the unicorn. 
And I'm running low on topics. Suggestions? I do have a pretty-blue-new-question page as well. 

Monday, 18 November 2013

Unmade Beds

Today, I didn't make the bed.

I didn't have time to make the bed. 
I left it unmade. 
And dishes in the sink. 
And clothes on the floor. 

Because, today, there were bigger priorities. 
There are certain things in this life that one shouldn't do alone. 
So I kept a friend company today.

Now, it isn't a "rule" to make the bed every morning as much as it something he expects.
And he expects it to be made the way he likes it. 
And I make it the way he wants it because I'm obedient.
And making the bed, first thing in the morning, how he wants it, is no big deal. 

But sometimes, life happens. 
We have learnt to ebb and flow--I have learned to ebb and flow, to bend more freely and not react to the situation. 
And when life happens, there is flexibility in the details that makes up our M/s. 
Like the bed being made. 

But that doesn't change anything. 

The actions, are sometimes, just merely an extension of the those intangible things. 

Symbols of service, of promises made, commitment, the choice of living this way...

The actions may take a pause or a backseat to life but the connection, intimacy, power exchange is a moving, accompanying entity that always exists between us.

Thursday, 14 November 2013

Incident of Progress

Maybe its because I am bogged down with course work, or maybe its because I really want to finish the book (like in the worse way), maybe because I have become too reliant on my schedules...but I am not doing well lately with being thrown out of my routines. Or maybe it was a day when everything got to me.
Seriously shocking. 
Yesterday, after venturing out and going to an event, which was very lovely, I came home, all prepared to dive into the coursework. 
Turned on the laptop and got a red screen that blared at me that it was doing set-ups. 
So I made tea, reviewed some of my notes (most are on the laptop) and allowed the system to do it things. Finally, it was done and asked me for a login and password. 
Now, while I do have almost all of Horace's various access information (mostly for work purposes..there were so many times where he needed a file but wasn't physically able to access it...but I like to think it is because I'm his wife...) I didn't have this particular login info because he hardly ever uses it. 

But I remembered the last time the system decided to do an update, it was the same dance. 
So I emailed Horace (on my tablet), explained about the update, said I needed the login and password info. please. 
He emails back, "Don't worry about it. You can just bypass it." 
Said the man who isn't emailing on a tablet, isn't anywhere near the red screen of the laptop and one who doesn't need immediate access to course notes. 
So I'm feeling frustrated. 
I write back, "I can't bypass it. Generally speaking, I don't ask you for things I don't need. Can you please just give me the information?" 
Yeah, that was snarky. 
I should have taken a few more deep breaths. 
I should have, not added that line of "generally speaking..." 
A few more email exchanges, then Horace finally gave me the information. 

Great. But now, I'm thrown off. 
Can barely study or concentrate. 
I send Horace another email, to say.. it worked and thanks for sending the information but you kind of complicated life and I really didn't have time to deal with this, this afternoon and I can't study very well at the moment and maybe I need to do something else. 
 Right, I know. 
He writes back that I can take a time out and tells me I was acting awfully childishly. 
At that moment in time, a time out sounded perfect. 
Grabbed a book and settled into a comfy chair. Forgot about studying for awhile and everything else. 

Here's the thing, though. 
While I did act out of term, I didn't loose it. 
A few snarky emails pales in comparison to a full out meltdown. 
I didn't give in to the frustration I was experiencing to act on it. 
After I took a couple of hours of relaxing, I got back to studying. 
I made dinner. 
I greeted Horace when he came home, as normal and apologised for my snark. 
We even laughed about it, a little. 
We had a lovely evening that involved tickling, playfully wrestling and of course, you can bet that Horace got a few paddles in. 
Then Horace made popcorn and we curled up on the couch and watched television. 

So...this is another incident of progress. Maybe a year ago, but definitely two, this would have been a much bigger deal. 
But it comes from knowing how he wants me to act, letting that penetrate, from training and practice and shift in thinking. 
I'll never be able not to feel or not to emote as strongly as I do--that is who I am. 
But I can, indeed yield over to surrender. 

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Love Our Lurkers Day 8!!!

Hello dear Blogland! 
It is Love Our Lurkers Day 8 and I am thrilled to be participating for the second time. 

I believe in taking stock. In looking at where I was to where I am now, where we were as people, as a couple as an us, and where we are now and its really hard to believe how much has changed since last LOL Day.
We now live in a hovel. 
I'm writing books.
And there is now an Ask A Question Page 

Speaking up, can be hard and intimidating. The first time I stopped to comment on a blog post I particularly liked, reforming my lurker days, felt overwhelming. But it opened up so many doors and eventually led to a blog of my own. 
 I would love to know what the silent readers think, so today I invite you to pause briefly from lurking, give a comment or two and I would be grateful for your feedback. What do you like to read about this little blue blog? What do you want to know? Or if you would just like to emerge with a "hello" , today is your day to take a leap and leave a comment. 
I aim to please and live to serve. 
I'm so grateful for all of my readers. 
Thank-you for coming to l'heuere beleue time and time again. 
The truth is, I wouldn't be here without you all. 

Artwork, courtesy of our artist friend