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

Monday, 11 November 2013

Just An Ordinary Day...

Where I decided to make chicken tikka, because meal making and feeding falls under things I do. 
Cast iron pan. 
Last stage of the curry/sauce/gravy, adding in the cilantro and I forgot to turn it down. Threw in the cilantro and gave it a stir. 
Wherein which the curry bubbled over, onto the floor. 
On to my new foam-mats (the play mats for kids...they have been such a life-saver on my body for all kitchen tasks...a couple of months ago we did away with the bright primary colours, when Horace brought home the adult version, black and white squares, "They are going to get dirty quickly", I said at the time. I spend more  time scrubbing those white squares than nearly anything else in the kitchen).
On the side of the fridge. 
All over the stove. 
On the counters and pans and plates.
So now...
I have all this to clean up, get coursework in, make Horace cookies (a request) and try to get a line or two of writing in. 
And considering I wouldn't dare complain about any of this to him.... 
Its why I'm whining about it here. 

Come back tomorrow for LOL Day 8! Hosted by the fabulous Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts.

Friday, 8 November 2013

Friday Fragments: 200

It is incredibly fitting to be penning this post at the true l'heure bleue.
Like so many literal three-am-hours before, I should be sleeping.
It is a double class-week. I have one, in about six hours.

But I couldn't sleep...random thoughts 

We have almost been in the hovel for a year now. And it occurred to me tonight, even with everything not properly in its place-baskets of laundry are waiting to be put away, dishes in the drying rack, coats slung over chairs-it still looks new. 
Recently, while travelling, I described our home (the hovel and the place) as feeling like a constant vacation. It truly, truly does. 
But a hovel is not just four walls with one gigantic ceiling, it is the hearth. 
The hearth is made up by those who tend it. And the connection that ebbs and flows between my mate and I...is solidly home. Its ease and joy and love in motion, constantly expanding to encompass growth and occasionally letting in another soul to tend the fires.
I am so very proud of where we are. 

 I am grateful. 
So very grateful to have carved out this little space on the interwebs.
To share the ups and downs and the stuck against a rock and a hard places. 
Thank-you for sharing, for reading, for connecting, for visiting the blue hour. 

I wish for you to find again and again and as often as possible your own l'heure bleue. 
Because its not just an hour that literally occurs, its a mindset. 
It is a way of being.
And it is discovered moment by moment...post by post...hour by hour...

Thursday, 7 November 2013

About the Pain

Its not about the pain. 
So much of what we do in this dynamic of M/s isn't about the pain. 
Its about surrender. Its about placing my will in his hands, to be molded and shaped. 
Its about control and dominance and ownership. 

Until of course, it is about the pain. 
Because that's the mood Master was in. 
Because that's what he wanted. 
Because he can. 
Because its about his pleasure. 

Hands wrenching me apart. 
Foreign long and hard objected inserted.
The pressure, filling me, stretching me, tearing me apart. 
The foreign object inserted, twisting and cawing and stabbing. 

Sparks. Tears. Withering. 
His warm hands on the back of my neck. 
I hadn't realized I had stopped. 
Breath. Yes, breathing is important. 

I twisted away, trying to separate my body from his intentions.
The pain is mounting, clouding my vision, I'm blinded by it. 
The fullness increases and I'm held in place. 
"I just can't", the words tumble out of my lips. 
Past my reserves of strength. 
This is me being vulnerable. 
 "I can't" is not a phrase normally in my lexicon. 

He grins. Oh, its a predatory look. 
"Are you denying me?"
Oh, those words with steel. 
Made me squirm with shame and humiliation.
"No", softly. 
Its a fine line. 

He grabs the foreign object, moving it around. 
I suck in breath and claw the bed sheets. 
It and him have kind of emerged. 
Neither is giving up their purchase. 

"Why aren't you on the floor?" 
I can barely figure out what is being said. 
The pain is so intense, its consuming me. 
I'm on the boarder of where pain is pain and pleasure is far away. 

He lifts me, manoeuvres me. 
Suddenly I am under his feet. 
"That's a good dirty floor wife." 
I withered and bit back a scream. 

His hands pinched, slapped and controlled the foreign object. 
What was causing me so much discomfort, moved a millisecond. 
But it was enough. 
Because in that space...that wasn't pain 
Pleasure started to creep in. 

Pushing past the pain.
It was a fight between the orgasmic inducing sensations and the stubborn shooting pain. 
He jammed the foreign object, in and out. 
It came out and my body tensed. 
Pleasure battered against the empty space. 
And took me. 

He moved me. 
In his arms. 
"Good girl". 
He had taken his pleasure. 
And in his pleasure, I found my own. 
Its not about the pain. 

Monday, 4 November 2013

Submissive Pressure

Lately, I've been feeling pressure. 
The pressure of trying to finish a book (still searching for two more beta readers). 
The pressure of meeting deadlines for work. 
Preparing for the next event. 
Getting enough hours of study in to do well on the upcoming exams. 
During all those weeks of that chaos, I'm kind of on autopilot. 
Where I literally put all of myself last and meet his needs. 
Where, I am constantly, it feels like saying, "yes." 
Yes, I can do that. Yes, it will be done on time. Yes, I'll see to it. 
And I love being able to help with the business. I love offering my support and my opinions when asked, I love overseeing the details. 
But it is a certain amount of pressure. 

And maybe this is why I got a little afield.
Where, I made decisions. 
Where, I didn't check with him on the finer details.
And usually all of that is common place. Its so ingrained in me at this point, it is kind of shocking when I make a mis-step. 
I didn't realize I had done it. 
Until he said, "You told me your meeting was Friday but you didn't ask if the time was all right." 
Now, its true he doesn't micro-manage my life, but usually I tell him the details of my plans, asking for permission or at the very, very least making sure there isn't something he needs me to do at 10am. 
And then, I was asked such a shocking question, it threw me off so much, that I didn't give my usual, "I'll have to talk to my husband about and get back to you."
I just agreed. 

Minor, minor occurrences but its a symptom to me that I'm a little off. 
Not wholly on the ball.
It might be the pressures. 

And it might be from a pressure of a different source. 
Peer pressure. 
I thought I was about a decade or two over it. 

While we love being part of a kink community, it occurred to us not so long ago, that we are a little different. 
I don't want to say more "D/s's" because everyone's dynamic is so vastly different...lets say, it became crystal clear that we were firmly M/s among the sea of fellow D and s types, the only ones.
We have more years in our relationship than many of our social circle. 
Our dynamic is pretty much worked out and working. 
The power I have given over to him..or our protocols...are maybe on a stricter bent. 

But even so...
Now, I am an adult. 
I am fully capable of speaking my mind. 
It is no one else's responsibility to enforce the protocol of my dynamic other than mine. 
That means if some D walks up to me at an event and asks to use me as a demo, I say, "I'll have to check with my Sir." Easy-peasy. 
Its quite acceptable and its no big deal. 
But around fellow "s" types its hard for me to keep in mind their protocols aren't the same as mine. 
In our hovel, he makes all the decisions. 
Its not up to me when we soicalize or when. Its not up to me if we can get together on such and such a date. 
Its not up to me to decide that we would prefer dessert over dinner. 

An occasion arose where we were planning an outing with another D/s. 
In trying to confirm the details, I was asked over and over and over by the s in the equation. 
The s, isn't a stranger. Knows how our dynamic works or at the very least knows that its not up to me to make those decisions. 
Finally, I said when Horace had the time to think it over, we would let them know. 
There wasn't a racing clock. 
But I felt pressured. 
Pressured to fill in those blanks. 
Pressured to just give a reply to stop the constant "Do you know yets?" 

And that whole situation  has left me feeling pretty crummy and kind of disconnected.