Thursday, 31 July 2014

At the Moment...

Thank-you so much for all the comments on the last post, I will get to them. And thanks for the emails, too! You have all been so supportive and kind. I have been so very, very, very, bad at returning emails lately and it's a horrible excuse but truth. I appreciate the words all the same.

We live our lives in a very different way--and I don't just mean the M/s stuff, though that is a big part of it. We tend to march to a different drummer, do things creatively, differently and it just works for us. We believe in being true to who we are and continually creating a life we want to live--regardless of what others may think.
 Horace is a lot more social than I am---people like him, people usually like him quite a bit. He has the ability to blend in a lot more than I do and go along when needful and there are lots of times when it is needful. 
Sometimes when he gets home, I will say to him, "What does the world say today?" because to be truthful, he is the one who is out and about and often, I can spend long periods of time in my solitude. He has found a way to be the different that is us... and still be social, still have his feet in the world.
 For me, it has never been that simple.
There are times where he will drag me out to play with others and engage with something new. There are times when the need for interaction will drive me out of its own accord or my curiosity will get the better of me.
 I think, I have been feeling a little out of my skin lately, with all the pregnancy/baby stuff, because it puts me right in the crowds. It forces me to be with other people and then I hear all the ridiculousness and idiocy of what they say and have to remind myself...for the millionth time, for the most part, people value things/look at things differently than I do.
Just because, this is probably the most un-unique thing I have done, the whole breeding thing, doesn't mean that we have to follow the crowds. I don't have to carbon copy the yoga girls. Or take the unsolicited advice of the women in the stores. But the avalanche of advice, of comments, of hearing and seeing and being among all the got to me. Might get to me more. Makes me question and examine and re-examine why I don't fit and why I don't see it like they do. It does bring home that whole being on the outside thing, in a really new and strong way.
Yet...I know...
 We can do it in the way that works for us...and we will figure out how it fits into what we already have going on. 
And maybe, just maybe, I'll run into one or two others who gets the concept of going beyond the one dimensional. 

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Vanilla: So. Baby.

Total vanilla post.
Dealing with pregnancy and baby stuff.
If you want to read something in the kinky realm, I suggest this by Lil  and I can't agree more with her thoughts on D/s being better than M/s and all that judgey stuff. I also suggest this guest post on Greengirl's blog, Horace has often made very similar points with other D-types and gods, is it good to see an old friend.

At the last yoga class I went to--I actually missed last week's because the normal instructor wasn't in and you know, it's just easier not to explain all my uniqueness to someone I may not see again-one of the girls said that she had printed off an essential list for newborns and armed with the list, she went shopping. The list contained 300 items.
300 items.
 I thought about it later, and the most-essential-items I could come up with was 20--and that was with repeating things.
This girl is due about the same time as I am.

I haven't shopped for anything. Occasionally, I will feel the pull, but I am way more concerned with getting the Hovel in order than shopping and figure I will start in October (putting me at the 7th month), for those who have been down this road before: Am I crazy to leave it that late? Would the better course to be to start now?
 It just seems strange to me, to keep items that aren't going to be used for awhile yet. Very contrary to my minimalist approach.

Horace has said the decision is mine--which I think, dear friends is a cop-out--but I keep going back and forth on it. Belly casting. Anyone got one done? Worth it? Not worth it? A part of me thinks I should do it--this may never happen for us again and there is apart of me that wants to experience it all-then the more practical part of me wonders what in hades I would do with the thing, other than dust it for the next eternity. But I don't want to regret not doing it.

Stretch marks. What is the big deal? They have started to emerge and I don't mind them. I guess this has to do with perception and body image but I really fail to see how they are such an issue for some.
However, if they do become an issue for me, I looked to see creative ways in which others dealt with theirs. Lots of cool arty ideas out there--from henna to tats and the one thing I came across that I liked, was making them part of a body art-piece. Trees, vines, flowers, a map, etc.

From Ina May's work, one thing I've taken notice of is how she insists that it's very bad manners to tell pregnant women your horror story of your experience with birthing. And that makes very good sense to me because my usual comeback when someone tells me their horrible story is, "That was your experience, sorry it wasn't a pleasant one".
 Because really, I don't want that in my head. Why do we think it's acceptable to scare each other?
But now there is a new type of sharing that I didn't count on: nursing stories. Apparently women think it's okay to tell you how horrific breastfeeding is--even from ones who are currently doing it.
 Apparently, if it's something I am going to do, then I should be prepared for suffrage and pain because it hurts all the time.
 Fortunately, suffrage and I are old friends.

December. So a well-meaning acquaintance--actually, I'm not sure how well-meaning they were--but someone sent me an academic article on stats and being born at different times of the year. According to this article, December is the worst month to be born in. Kids are younger than their peers, won't develop as well, won't keep up as well, more at risk for developing ADHD etc, etc, socially inept and also according to this, kids born in December more often than not come from those who are on the lower end of the economical scale.
 Trying to get all of this out of my head, has been a bit of a challenge. Not that I have far to look when it comes to beating the stats-but there is that whole thing about wanting yours to have an easier road.
But I do say say to kidlet, "You know, you could have come in at any time. There was ample opportunity." But it chose December.
 So: Anyone have any good examples of being born in December and thriving?
 And actually, I'm all open to positive examples about any of this because I'm feeling a little out of my skin right now.

Monday, 28 July 2014

Life. Messy.

It is kind of a thing--half rule half protocol--that I spend part of Sunday nights making something that Sir can take with him to work for the week.
 It also might mean, making a breakfast thing. If I have the energy-which happens less and less these days-it's also when I might cook a few things for the week and make bread.
Last night, I ended up making blueberry muffins and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. The cookies, because I was craving them (seriously handy to be able to cook/bake to satisfy the first trimester it was apple pie and though I was exhausted, I put in the effort and made it instead of caving into store bought) and they turned out fantastically well. Though I missed the umph the usual splash of rum syrup adds...I wasn't totally convinced that the tiny bit of alcohol would burn off during cooking, so left it out.
And oh, the muffins. The muffins turned out so well and because it's a recipe worth keeping, I'm sharing here, but fortunately it's a link (I've tried a lot of recipes from SK and the majority of them have turned out so well), I added a little bit of cardamon and doubled the lemon zest:

It's become a lovely ritual, one that I look forward to each week and take my time with. Sir leaves me alone sometimes, at others he hangs out with me while I fly around the kitchen. Years ago, he would have been more in my way. He definitely would have made more of the issue of the absolute mess I turn the kitchen into each time I cook and bake (and that happens very frequently...almost everyday besides the Sunday-night-work-treats-creations). 
 But we have grown a little wiser over the years. 
He knows that while I respect his control-freak-neatness levels, in this area, he just can't change me. The mess, as it so often is, is well worth the end product. 

Yet he also knows, that I'll dust up the flour and clean up the pans and sweep the floor, after I'm done. If I compromise with him, sometimes he'll allow me to air dry the dishes. 
He knows I need to be creative and let my mind be occupied elsewhere as I measure and pour and contemplate combinations that work well together. 
 He knows, that I get so caught up in my head at times, that I am busy mentally chewing or planning or scheming, that it's a safe bet not to pick up anything by the lid around our Hovel, if my fingers were last on it. 
He knows that I will always loose my keys. 
And glasses. 
 These wallet, purse, shoes and bra too. 
This does drive him a little crazy and it does wear on his patience...and he has implemented a rule here or there to rein this chaos in, but as I've said, for the most part, he leaves it well enough alone, knowing it's my processes.  
 He values my insights, my thoughts and mind because it can all be very helpful to therefore, it's worth the messes that come from the processes it takes me to arrive at insightful, helpful conclusions. 
 He also knows, that it's very hard for me to sit back on the sidelines. 
He knows that it is in my nature to get involved, to get messy. If given the choice, I will always, always vote to blow it up--in stupendous fashion. 
  Few things about M/s I find hard, by now. But what I always find the hardest, is when he tells me to stand down. When he says to me, that this mess isn't mine to get involved with. When he orders me to join him on the sidelines of neutrality. 
 My whole chaotic being protests and rages internally--I'm good at fighting! I'm good at working with chaos! I'm good at stirring the pot!--but I know in this he knows best and my being is soothed by the other times, when he allows me to get messy. 
 And over the years, I have pushed him here or there to get out from where he finds it most comfortable, that balancing point of being neutral and to get in there and stir it up. Sometimes it's worked out famously well, other times, well it's been a mess. 
But he knows I will help him clean it up. 

Saturday, 26 July 2014

Friday Fragments: This. Slave.

"You are free before the sun of the day, and free before the stars of the night;
And you are free when there is no sun and no moon and no star.
You are even free when you close your eyes upon all there is.
But you are a slave to him whom you love because you love him,
And a slave to him who loves you because he loves you." 

Excerpt, Seventh, by Kahlil Gibran

Relationships, are never one dimensional. At least mine aren't.

 It's always, endlessly interesting to me, when I catch myself admiring a trait in my husband that also a good part of the time, drives me up the wall and makes me feels as if I am going to loose my mind.
To say he is laid back, is such a huge understatement. But he is. He is always calm and always in control, he doesn't let himself get pulled one way or another.
That laidbackness and calm demeanour, can come across as being lackadaisical and when you want things done at the speed of light, that is often annoying.
There is only so much time here, and the Hovel needs to be done.

But this week, I was so grateful for his calmness. For not micro-managing me, for being understanding. For asking me to do a couple of tasks and not getting upset with me when those tasks weren't done because there was just too much going on in other areas. I was grateful for his laidbackness, because honestly, while he wants and expects a clean Hovel, he can also let it slide that the floors haven't been done for a week and this week, doing the dishes was about all I could manage.
There were a couple nights this week, when he did them.

One of the most difficult aspects of M/s for me, is accepting his decisions when I don't always agree with them because... Given the opportunity and left to my own devices, I will try everything under the sun, before I give up and let it lie. I will try every solution I can find, theorise and conceive, I won't stop until every stone has been overturned.
That's my nature.
I have never learnt how to give-up.
But I have, learned to put surrender in motion.
I have learnt to yield to him, when he makes a decision and accept that I am going to have to go along with it and leave those stones alone.
What bothers me most about it, every single time, is that I didn't try every avenue I could see. But he has taught me over the years, that sometimes, its worth leaving one avenue for another and choosing something else isn't giving up, it's just choosing something else.

Has he ever led me wrong?

Oh, that's a question that has come up, here on this blog on other posts and reading in this corner of Blogland. It's the question that centres us as the 's' types, it really does.

To be master, he is not perfect.
There are few things in life that I find more thrilling than to be swept up in the current of a new idea or new concept, that he has set his sights on. I will throw my whole self into whatever he needs done and ride those waves with him.
It is what I signed up for.
But there have been times when the current has been rough and choppy and though he didn't land us in the ditch, he had to paddle awfully quickly and sometimes in reverse, to prevent it from happening.
This has happened more than once and at times it's exhausting to be fixated on the new destination to have it not be course.
But we happen to think the pursuit of following a dream or two, is worth the wrong turns.
For me though, being taken in by his current of passion and exhilaration, his want and desire, is...also exhilarating, it's inspiring, it's an extension of our love for each other; I want him to succeed, I want him to have what he wants and I will continue to do throw my whole self in, every time.

Once, years ago, he drove across the boarder so I could get a stamp (yeah, really and I won't tell what the boarder people said to that explanation) it was about two in the morning by the time we go there.
Because I needed an American stamp for an application.
I was pursing a dream at the time, you see.
Because...there is nothing so exhilarating and thrilling to him as to be caught up in my current, when I identify a new want or desire. He'll come along for the ride, each and every time because it's also what he signed up for.
And yes, there are times I wonder why he didn't stop me and why he let it get so far to almost being in that ditch...but just like I wouldn't stand in his way, he has never stood in mine. 

The adventures, even if they have ended in heartbreak, have been most worth it..because we have learned so much about each other throughout the years, due to riding the rocky waves.
These days, I think we are more calmer and more level headed and practical when it comes to pursing, but oh, the exhilaration just as alive as it ever was and nothing beats it. Then again, I want..nothing.
I have no want or desire these days, that isn't for or with him.

It's funny how we learn and re-learn lessons. This week, I was reminded rather harshly of what walking that solitary path truly means.
The group, the tribe, the community, the family, is oh so appealing. Our whole society tells us that you have to belong to matter, you have to be attached.
The hormones have been telling me to belong....
All I want to do is be around those who I trust--it's such a small number. But in lieu of that, I have looked towards the group, the tribe, the community, the family and learned once again, that those groupings aren't for me.

Has he ever led me wrong?
Even in the choppy waters, he has always been my safe harbour.
And when I go off my own path, he is there, guiding me back.
Holding me steady.
Reminding me of my place, of all the things I am, that first, foremost and last, I am his slave.

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Pain Management : Here and There

My mind is overtaken by arranging and re-arranging the Hovel. Supposedly, I'm nowhere near the nesting husband, if this post is a jumbled mess, that's why. 
The furniture isn't quite in place. 

I have been reading up on natural birth techniques, theory and principles and so much of it is fascinating to me.
 Namely how much hospital intervention actually stops the natural processes. 
And I am trying not to draw comparisons but a lot of the pain management techniques they suggest, are a lot of the same ones, or fueled by the same principles I have used or been instructed over the years to use, in increasing pain tolerances for kinky play, or rather taking the pain.

 Believe me, it's stranger in my head. 

As a masochist, it's not that you don't feel pain or that all pain feels good.
Sometimes, pain outright hurts, even accompanied by all those lovely endorphins and pleasures. 
But for me, a large part of  it has always been how that pain is used. 
It's transmuted into something more but to get to that point, you have to accept that the pain is real and 
it's there, you have to embrace it to get beyond the point of "Ow! That hurts like a mother".

Many things I am reading about, I have used in other areas of my life. 
And the number one thing they suggest, is what I take issue with. 
Words are so very powerful; they influence our thoughts and the associations with words runs so very deep. 
The number one thing,of course, is to relax.
 Having had anxiety attacks for many years when I was younger, I would hear that so often and in such a brusque way, "Just relax already" that the very word "relax" makes me shudder and clench. 
I have no problem with the theory, I intimately understand the mind/body connection and I get that none of this plan is going to go anywhere unless I do as they suggest and relax. Just don't use that word. Then again, it depends on who is saying it. Hoarce can say it to me, in certain contexts and it won't produce the opposite affect. 

 To this end, I've been thinking about other scripts I can suggest be used. 
Horace has a few phrases he will say to me in a particularly rough or painful session and I'm wondering if we could adapt one of those phrases for this purpose (I told you, it's weird) maybe something as simple as "breathe, trust, submit." 

Throughout the last few months, I have been switching my hot drinks for decaffeinated ones. I know, there is a limit of caffeine that is deemed safe and my rule of thumb has been one caffeinated beverage per day. 

I knew I was going to have to quit smoking. Horace as a non-smoker, has kind of been after me about it for years.
 There was no way he was going to further tolerate it when it came to having a little one and the whole being pregnant thing. 
 Looking back, I can't say why I picked that week, maybe I felt that our attempts were getting closer but I started the process of quitting a week before we conceived (because we know the conception date) and then when I knew we had, I just stopped. 
 Everyone remarked how easy it seemed for me.
I was prepared--I had a plan for how I was going to quit and I went through with it. I suffered no physical withdraws of nicotine and I barely miss smoking. 

Maybe very occasionally. Maybe always after a conversation with my mother. 
But I don't have intense cravings for nicotine. 
(If you are really curious how I did this, inbox me and I'll share there--it's kind of a long telling).

However, what I completely overlooked was my caffeine addiciton. 
Association between coffee and tea and having a cigarette was huge for me. 
 I did know that if I gave up the caffeine, the quitting smoking would be easier. 
Not a single physical withdraw symptom from nicotine--I was so prepared.

But oh, the caffeine withdrawal was brutal. 

And that's why I am careful these days, in how much caffeine I consume. 

 I know I had a point here, to tie this all back together...(seriously, I don't think we need those shelves anymore and I really wish we could decide on a rug colour).

Ah yes, using methods to cope and adapt to one physical process, in my experience can be adapted for other processes. 
Pain, after all, is all the same. 

There is one more word that is pretty common when we discuss M/s and D/s and power exchanges, that could fit into my phrasing. 
I've thought about it this past week, when I am struggling to accept what is happening with the family stuff, when I debated with Horace over bookshelves, when I acutely miss the pin-point focus that I'm accustomed to with M/s--because mind is overtaken by furniture re-arranging and growing a human--and that word, oh....if I ever had a problem with the concept and the feelings the word "relax" caused, it's nothing to this one, but I've become a little tiny bit better at it as we've gone along. 
And it's definitely deserves it's own post. 

Monday, 21 July 2014

Down Day

Spent all of yesterday in tears. 
 Family stuff. 
And I'm not sure any of it will work itself out. 
I find these days, it's easy to be propelled into one emotional direction when one strong emotion arises. I mean .that's usually the case, but it just takes so little right now. 

It's amazing to me, that during this whole time, even when husband was away, I didn't feel lonely. Yesterday and today, I do. I feel very much on my own little island--maybe I don't feel wholly alone because there is that other presence but these feelings have caught me off guard. 

I'm tired of not being heard. 
I'm tired of not being asked, anything, ever. 
And I'm very tired of being ignored. 

Not the cheeriest post to start the week, I know. 

Thursday, 17 July 2014

New Tortures

"My slave, I've been thinking-". 
We're in bed. Cuddling. Master has his fist wrapped around my hair, my face held down. 
"...of instituting a demerit system. I think I would enjoy that."
I crane my head and look at his face, and see that look.. 

He's not kidding. It's that look
"Don't you think that's too complicated? Too rigid?" says, I. 
"Oh, it would frustrate you, I'm sure. It would delight me."
My mind kind of whirls here. 

It's true we have a punishment dynamic--in that there is an element of punishment to our dynamic---but punishments rarely happen. I don't act out to get punish, but I am a masochist and having points awarded for bad behaviour might be too tempting. And really? He's serious? A points system?
And then Master talks about the cage and how he was thinking of every demerit point racked up would be a minute in the cage. 

Oh there is a cage, and it's coming. 
That of course ,made my mind whirl more, in equal parts thrill and terror. 
"But..." and before I could get more out, Master thrust a gag in my mouth and had his sadistic way with me.

For the last month, I've been tortured, in a most unnecessary way. 
Our Hovel sits slightly aside and next to the garage. The garage door has been making a horrible, squealing noise, every time a car drives through it---every time. It's been consistently waking me up--if not him--at 4am. It is driving me batty. 
He has complained to the powers that be every week, sometimes twice, since this started.
So my request to the Universe: For all that is good and holy and blue in this world, make it stop, please, please let it stop.

Monday, 14 July 2014

Friday/Monday: The Continuing Saga of Yoga

Yes, I know. The Friday post yet again didn't make it up.
I'll try to slip in an extra post this week and I need to catch-up with everyone else, again too.
Horace was going to be away all day on Saturday. I was kind of grumpy in the morning because again, I hadn't slept well. I'm the only person on the planet who gets nervous before a yoga class. I figure eventually I'll be able to manage that better. Maybe.
Anyways, he was leaving even before I was that morning and I was just going to take the bus across town to yoga.
Showered, dressed, ate, already to go. Grabbed my bags.
"Don't leave now you'll have twenty minutes of waiting", Horace said.
I blinked at him a couple of times.
Twenty-minutes early, was my plan. That's twenty minutes where my brain doesn't have to be occupied by the Hovel, him leaving, his stuff, the yoga nerves, etc. That's twenty minutes of reading articles for work, catching-up on emails, Jetpack Joyride.
It meant that I had a full twenty-minutes to take my time and slowly walk over for the bus. I could probably pet at least three dogs in that span and still have time for reading, emails, jetpack.
"It's okay", I said.
"I don't want you waiting that long. Sit"-- Horace actually pointed to the couch.
I sat.  Refrained from telling him he was on some kind of controlling-power-trip. 
Breathed deeply and crossed arms instead. 
The man then reminded me that I had breakfast on the line-he has said the day before that I could go ahead and take myself out for breakfast. Without him, breakfast. 
There is very, very little I wouldn't do for that. But I had forgotten (thanks pregnancy fog) which kind of made him a little annoyed, and for a moment I was afraid he was going to take that off the table. 
I waited on the couch, watched while he gathered up all his stuff and suddenly started to get upset over the fact that he was leaving and would be gone most of the day. Breathed. Un-crossed arms.
Slave-brain kicked in and I asked if there was anything I could do for him, anything he needed while he was away. 

He named a couple of minor things then kissed me goodbye. 
Five minutes later, he texted me to say I could leave now. 
Instead of the leisurely walk, I briskly walked over to the stop. No petting dogs. No emails, no reading, no Jetpack Joyride. 
But the nerves about going to yoga were back in full strength. 
Did that deep-breathing thing again, felt a little better by the time I got to the studio. 
Survived class. 
Got out, showered, got dressed. 
Ordered coffee with my breakfast, texted him a very sincere 'thank-you' for the treat.
And it was all kind of blissful. 
 Yoga is getting better or I am getting more used to it. 
I doubt I will ever have much in common with a group of women, whether they are also pregnant or whether they also have little ones, or what have you. I've always been on the outside and I'm kind of getting my head around how that doesn't have to mean our little one will be on the outside-solitary path.
If I could just get some sleep before the early morning class, it would be helpful. 

We'll see tomorrow. In true masochist-fashion, I signed up for an early-morning-weekday class. 

Thursday, 10 July 2014

This Blog Thing

So I want to comment, but I'm not sure if I have the words or the clarity of thought to make my point well read. 
 DD blogs were some of the first I read and reading about people's experiences in those dynamics, helped me to contemplate a whole D/s thing...I knew about kink and S&M and BDSM but the inner workings of a relationship were kind of lost on me.
 Like I have said before, sometimes, especially in the early years together, I thought I was the one who wanted the kink and at times I wasn't sure how Horace was going to react. 

It turned out of course, that not only did he want the kink, he wanted so much more. 
I had to get my head around the power exchange thing and reading DD blogs, where most of them showed committed long term relationships, if not marriages, really helped me get my head around what Horace wanted--except of course, we didn't use the DD model.
Without those blogs, I wouldn't have found more blogs that related to me and what I had going on in my household. And without those blogs, I would not be here. 
 And if I wasn't here...I've been here since 2012 and I can't imagine not having this community. Really. 

Over the years, I've followed less and less DD blogs, I've been judged pretty harshly at times by many people in that camp--and I just became a lot more selective about who I read and who I follow, tending to stick more to the folks who I feel I can relate to better. 

But that whole situation? Oh, I nearly cried. 
I can feel the hurt through the screens of the various blogs I visit and my heart goes out to everyone who was personally affected. 
 I think that situation, raises our concerns and worries about trusting online, being safe, how much we share and how we put ourselves out there. And I get why people are feeling a little raw and fearful, I think that is a normal reaction. 
 There is a difference though, a huge, huge difference between sharing snapshots of your life, embellishing a detail here or there to protect identity and what happened in this situation. 
 That situation, was all of that, on a grandiose scale.  

For years, I have had a business where my customers are mostly online. For several years, I ran a community online.
Most of the time the dishonesty is easy to spot, people usually trip themselves up. But sometimes, it's not and sometimes, you just don't want to. Through that work, I have the benefit of having learnt how to engage in a healthy way online. But in all of my time working and volunteering online, I must say, most people are decent folk. 

 And even in those more vanilla settings, I would still only share snapshots of what is relevant to those things. 

I don't talk to my conservative-Christian-great-baker-booklover-friend about my kink. 
 Let's keep falsehood and relevancy in perspective, before we really go into the deep end and get all wrapped up in whether or not we are being real enough.
The reason why I made this blog private, is because I wanted to talk about the pregnancy. I was weary of attracting a certain sinister kind of attention and I wanted to control who was reading about it. 

 But if I had kept it open, then I wouldn't have been talking about my pregnancy because it's not that kind of blog.
 But I still think the occasional recipe is okay to share, I really do *pouts*. 
It's hard to find that balance between just talking about our kinky lives and throwing in the sprinkles of vanilla, while protecting ourselves, but that does not mean we are all being dishonest in those attempts. We are not being fraudulent by embellishing here or there or tossing in a handful of sprinkles, we are only trying to widen the snapshot while keeping the relevancy. 

Some of you know, I have something to do with books in my working life. 
There is a situation that came across my desk recently and I felt betrayed. Silly. Seriously silly to feel like that but I did. 
 What happened was an author released a book. It was a book this author released years ago, under another title.
This happens all the time, for various reasons; wanting to increase sales, wanting to attract a new audience, a change of publisher, an outdated contract, a switch of copyright, a new cover, a new format, whatever. There are very genuine reasons for why this happens, it's so common it' barely worth mentioning. 
  But in this case? Because of what I know about the old release, because I know that there was a whole audience affected by the book the first time around and because I have knowledge of that old release, I kind of feel it's deceitful and dishonest. It isn't. It's just how I feel. I don't feel this way about the ten other books that I can think of that have been released under new names or titles but this one, sticks out. 
 My point is, there are degrees of deception. 
One major, fraudulent situation, is way different than most of what is occurring.

Despite being a little paranoid, a lamp-carrying-cynic and a private person, even I know that sometimes the risk is worth it. Sometimes it's worth sending an email to a blogger you feel you can relate to through only their words on the screen. 
 Because honestly, if I hadn't taken that risk and done that every thing months ago, when Horace and I were trying to conceive and how it wasn't happening and my frustrations and my fears? I don't know how I would have gotten through that time without that supportive ear and non-judgmental heart. 
 And yes, it was only an email but I was sharing personal details, more than I had shared here. If they looked really hard, there was probably enough information in those emails to out me. I took the chance that they wouldn't. 

So to sum up: There are bad seeds everywhere. Let's not take on so much paranoia and worry, wondering if  we are being real enough to let it stop us from sharing the snapshots we do--the point of my author/book example was to show that levels of embellishment and degrees of deceit happen in other communities. Do be vigilant and protective of your identity and mindful of what you share but don't let that stop you from communicating and engaging with a community that offers and gives so much and downright thrives.  
And sometimes, take a risk--it's good for the soul. 

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

A Mix

Master boinked me hard. 
Hard and fast and violent and it was bliss. 
Seriously, few things are better than morning sex. 
We needed it. I needed it. 
 There are times, though they are few, where he will let me play the game of protestation. 
But even there, he won't fight me for control. He'll wear me down. Take it by force.
And when these moments happen, there is apart of me that absolutely relishes in it--because I have always loved a good fight. 
It's futile. 
I'll surrender. We both know it. 
 How long can I hold out?
How long will he let me play with this?
 He's a very, very patient man. 
How long will I continue, until I beg for him to react? 
How much pain will he inflict to get me back where he wants me? 
How much delight will he take in letting me thrash and fail and try on pretence for size? 
We both know, with one word, one command, one hand on the back of my neck and he can end it all. 
 It's nothing more than a dance. 
There is apart of my soul that wants to rebel because that is part of my nature. And there is something within him that recognises that and knows the best way to have my all, is to occasionally let me take that moment or two or three into rebellion. Not real, no because he controls it, so it's not a true rebellion, but it is enough to give me peace when I'm growling at the world. 

If you don't care about the pregnancy stuff, stop reading now. 


Small wonder, that there is a lot going on right know that makes me want to growl at the world. 
We go for the ultrasound this week. 
The one where we could possibly find out gender. 
The one where they will be able to have an early indication of healthy or not. 

There are things with being pregnant, that I really didn't expect-the hormones, the emotional highs and lows but also how much it put my own upbringing and beginning into my mind, because gods know, there are things I would rather forget. 
 We aren't going to find the gender. 
People don't like it when I say this and I truly don't mean to offend, but for me, finding out the gender, feels very selfish. Almost greedy. Do I want a baby or do I want a specific baby?
 And this...this took so much to get to happen. 
We wanted it. 
When I want things, I like to be very, very clear and very, very sure--the universe demands little else. No wonder it took awhile for it to come. 
 I like not knowing what it is going to be. I like falling in love with it as a thought, a concept, a person, thinking of all the things we are going to do with it once it arrives and those things aren't determined by pink or blue. 
This part of it has been very amazing for me and for Horace, too. 
So much of this has been absolutely amazing. 

The other day, I read a blog by a woman who said she didn't understand why parents-to-be prayed for a healthy baby. The author, herself, was not healthy and pointed out that her parents didn't invest any less attention, energy or love into her. She kind of feels that asking for healthy is like how I feel with finding out the gender, greedy, almost selfish.
 It's a roll of the dice, truly. 

But here's the thing: My own beginning was a mess. One horrific, horrible unbelievable mess. It's only through grace and willpower of many that it transformed into something else.
 I was not deemed "healthy". 

I think when most people say they don't care, they just want "healthy", they mean it.
 But I also think that for most people, they have the luxury of  not knowing otherwise. 
 Because I know what it is to not be on that healthy scale, I want a way few others can.
 It's all I care about. 
 I think you want a smoother road for yours, than what you had. 

In the early months and maybe once or twice beyond, I've said to Horace, "You aren't worried, you know because I'm defected?" in the smallest, tiniest voice imaginable. 
"No, I'm not worried. You aren't defected Bleue, you are uniquely you", it made me feel better...then he reminded me of the rule of not saying disparaging things about his, I'm trying to borrow some of his and trying to remind myself, I was very, very sure.


Monday, 7 July 2014

*Friday* Fragments: The Silence and Noise

(A Friday Fragments post on a Monday? I am really horrible at auto-scheduling posts. This was saved as a draft for Friday but never made it up...obviously)

It didn't occur to me that I would get questions in my inbox while this blog is private. But I did. From a fellow blogger who asked to be anonymous (really? But why?) the question is this:

"Bleuame, I remember reading about you keeping silent during some play. How did you learn to keep silent? Are there times when He wants you to be noisy? Do you find it hard to alternate between the two?" 

For all his laid back ways, there are quite a few things that Horace has trained/or conditioned me to learn or do. I think there is a lot of different techniques to use when it comes to being conditioned but probably the most effective is repetition. So being made to keep silent while playing, involved a lot of repetition. He also employed clear, concise explanations of what he wanted-what the goal was in this--and communicated why he wanted it. He then gave me helpful tools to use, or in this case, reminded of the tools i knew.
As an example, while being caned hard, he would take his time with each stroke, slowly, then reassure me if I made a noise, "That's okay Bleue, but what I want is for you  is to remain silent during this canning."
Then from there, he would increase rhythms, striking four or five times and the dialogue he would give me would be like this:

"Breathe, Bleue Just breathe. Breathing helps eases the tension, helps the pain relax. You are strong. It's not the first time you've controlled your body, you know how to do this. You can be silent."

One of the things I love about Horace, when he has taught me something new, is he can be a great communicator and he knows how strongly emotions are for me, so he never uses emotion to compel me in a negative way (none of that guilt inducing "You want to please me, your doing this for me"--at least not while starting out with something new) but he does offer up plenty of positive feedback and rewards.

To be fair, I didn't struggle with this and this is one thing that came pretty easily to me. He's right: It isn't the first time I have controlled my body and I am constantly learning how to transfer the control I have in one situation to another. But I am also stubborn and he laid out what he wanted of me, so I gave it.
This is a little bit of mind over matter, and that requires a single minded focus. I learned to focus on the ambient noises in the room, the textures of the floor or the bed or the couch under me, the feel of the implement on my skin, the subtle sounds of his movements. I felt the pain, but didn't release it by making noise.
 I prefer to be silent-unless he has asked me otherwise-while we are playing with or in front of others. My reactions aren't for anyone else.

Oh yes. Often times, he likes me to be noisy. He likes the noises I make and I hate the noises I make, a combination that fuels his delight. He's also controlled the type of noises I've made, ordering me not to scream, telling me that only moaning was permitted, commanding me to make various animal noises. He likes knowing that whatever he has done to me, is garnishing this type of loud, vocal reaction. 

It isn't hard to alternate between being quite during play and being noisy. It depends on what he wants and what kind of mood he is in and context is a great influence. 

Thank-you for the question, my friend. 

Horace is taking questions and has several drafts in the folders, he just might make more of an appearance over the next few weeks. Feel free to ask about anything that is talked about within this blog: 

Wednesday, 2 July 2014

Security of Fear

(Today Lil wrote a post about fear and that got me thinking, so I've used it as kind of a bouncing off place here). 

We spent the holiday at home, lounging around and doing a lot of nothing. A rare down day for both of us and one we much needed. 

This heat. I can't believe that the heat I normally soak up gleefully and passionately is keeping me cooped up inside this summer. I can't take it the humidity, it's almost painful to be outside and I'm so very grateful that there are very few reasons that I have to leave the house, when the temperatures are in the high 30's (celsius). 

 I was lying on the bed-just kind of woke up from a nap-and Horace came and laid down beside me, started tickling me, I tickled back.
  He told me to stop, I completely ignored him and continued. 
For the past couple of days, he has been dealing with a cough that's kind of bothersome to him and making his voice come and go. So in the middle of the tickle fight, he said "I'm going to get you" but it totally came out like Mickey Mouse. 
And that made both of us laugh. It was one of those playful moments, of which we have a lot of and it's one of those moments, where I think, "I like us quite a bit."

 In that playful, fun situation, I held absolutely no fear of him. There, he is my best friend, my loving husband and the emotion of fear is so far removed from the equation, it doesn't enter the field. In that kind of moment, he is letting us be silly and playful and intimate, without pulling the threads of the M/s into it..letting the undercurrent lie still. If he wanted me to really stop tickling him, his tone of voice would have been different, his look would have been quelling, he might have grasped my hands firmly. There are subtleties that over time, you become hyper-aware of and watchful for. 
  That being watchful for those subtitles and where the undercurrent is, you just kind of feel it. It's not like Horace was not my dominant nor my master in those moments, it's not like we are assuming roles. We are-always-being ourselves, that was just a shade of our playfulness. 
And I get how, that can be confusing. Just like I finally understood when an acquaintance of ours, had a hard time believing that Horace was a Dom, even with knowing my structure. I kind of get it. He's a very laid back, easy-going guy. But then when the same person saw us play, they understood.
 The fear that hums in the background. The fear that acts as an adrenaline booster, not knowing where he was going to take us. Not knowing if tonight, he was going to push my boundaries or how far. 
Fearing him for his absolute power over me--this is the man, whom with, I can be completely and utterly open and vulnerable with--it's almost crazy if I don't fear him for that. This is also the man, who holds a whip, a chain, who puts his belt around my neck, who pulls my hair until I cry, this is the man, who absolutely revels in causing pain. 
Again, it's almost crazy if I don;t fear him, or another way of saying it: It would be unhealthy if I didn't fear him.
Fear has the power to kick our natural adrenaline into gear, it can be sensual and heady and powerful .
He is also the man, who I have surrendered to, the one I have found quite worthy and trusting of giving absolute power over me to. He is the one who holds me accountable, he is the one who has set the standards in which I have agreed to live by and if I step out of line, he is the one who metes out discipline. And if he feels like hurting me, he will, no reason or excuse needed. I don't find it easy to disobey him and that isn't because I fear the consequences, but there is fear there, that guides that principle.

 There is fear there, that does keep me in line. It's healthy fear. It's fear of not wanting to cross the line but also the fear of crossing that line--nothing was done without my consent, here. 
 There is a difference between feeling fear, being fearful and feeling threatened. I have never felt threatened from him nor have I felt fearful 

When that fear of him is absent oh does it feel strange. His power and authority seem less and I feel like I'm bobbing in the ocean all by myself. I know, because we went through this recently, with the whole hormones thing. 
 I was at a point, where I couldn't give up ground; my emotions were making it very difficult for me to follow our norm. Suddenly, I was willing to fight him for control, I was in that mindset of, fight. 
It threw us off course, it really did. 

A dear friend of mine asked, "Who do you need? Your Dom or your best friend?"
In my heart? I knew I needed my Master. 

It is that structure and all that I have fought to surrender that keeps us on that even keel and keeps me sane. It's also that structure I rely on. Without it, that's true fear. With it, it is all those degrees of fear that I have mentioned here, but they are all known, those fears keep my chaotic emotions at bay. Those fears contain  a certain security that make me feel safe.

Our ability to bounce back from when things get tough and murky? It's also something that makes me think, "I like us quite a bit."