Friday, 19 September 2014

Friday Fragments: Keep Away

(For those of you who read via email: I'm trying to post the usual three times a week, but the usual posting days might be off, what with all that's going on around here)

There are many conveniences to apartment living, I've come to appreciate and know well over the last couple of years that we have been at the Hovel. I can't believe how much I love it and how much I don't want to trade it for anything else. 
One of those conveniences, that certainly makes life easier, is there is a  large convenience store attached to the complex. 
 This is great in winter, fantastic when you're out of milk in the morning and has been a godsend over the last seven months. 

I'm only a stone's throw away from basically any cravings that I have had--not that I have over indulged--but the chips and candy are right next door. New owners bought the store a few months ago.

So now along with the chips and candy, there are pastries. Apple turnovers and samosas and croissants, pies, all right there next door. 
 I have had a pretty consistent inclination for bread/pastry products, so having this available has been just a bit awesome. 

But now Horace has forbidden it. 
He is keeping the candy, chips and pastries away from the pregnant woman. 
  Or at least quick access to them. 

He's really forbidden going to the store--not imposed sanctions on what I can eat, which is damn impossible these days--, that's right next door.
For all his exactness, his strictness and his perfectionism, he really is a laid-back, easy going guy. 

It takes work and effort to ruffle his feathers. 

A couple of weeks ago, the new owner of the store, succeeded in doing that. 
Horace went in to buy a bag of milk. They were out. The new owner suggested that he buy little cartons and it would be same price as the special they had on and equal in amount.
 Horace said, actually it wouldn't be the same price and not even come close to equaling the amount and what he is charging for the small cartons of milk is astronomical. 
 My husband would have left it at this point, probably with a, "I'll come back when you have the bags in" and things would have been fine and my access to the store would have not been in jeopardy. 
But the new owner...he pulled out a calculator. 

He might as well have pulled out a rapier--it pretty much amounted to the same thing in the end. 
Horace is one of those people who actually like math. 
He likes it enough that he spends a good portion of his days, using it.
 The kind of math that is more than how to count change--which I can barely do. 

Horace told the new store owner, the difference in prices--between buying the little cartons of milk and the regular bag and how much it was more expensive by and how the volumes compared, all before the new store owner had pressed the equal sign. 
 The new store owner, insisted to Horace that his math was wrong

Horace generously ran down the numbers again, the new store owner insisted he was wrong again and at that point, my husband walked out of the store, still while the new owner was punching in numbers in his calculator. 

My husband got home, relayed what happened in the convenience store and declared that we weren't shopping there anymore and went on a little rant, explaining to me in great detail the math...which at the point, I kind of tuned out, because it was math, and two because he just took away the easy access to candy, chips and pastries and my brain was much more consumed with the ramifications of that. 

In case I missed it the first time, or thought it was a moment of indignation, Horace said it very clearly, "You are not to shop in that store." 

There are other stores that aren't that far away and I don't mind the extra walking.
And as a good slave, of course I have obeyed his edict on this--no matter if I think it's a trifle petty. 
Or how much I miss running into neighbours in the line, or the quick access to the candy, chips and pastries. 
But I also know, that if I were to disobey, that right now, Horace would probably let it slide.
 It's a strange thing to have those thoughts enter my head.
And there is a tiny part of me that wants to because...I could get away with it, I could justify it.
 It's so unslave like to have thoughts like that and I am totally chalking them up to the hormones. 
We've long come to the realization that pregnancy has brought out the brat in me.
 And though my quick access to the candy, chips and pastries have been denied, it isn't such a hardship, with this one, Horace really isn't asking a lot. 
 Besides, I'm usually up for a protest, no matter the logic. 

Have a good weekend, my friends!

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

Dom Shopping

I never had the chance to go looking for a Dom. Horace and I grew together into this M/s dynamic...though there were signs early on...and maybe it was instinctual...maybe I should have been more surprised by someone who was more open to my kinky needs...but I didn't term it like that back then, nor did I realize how much my fantasies and longings could be put into reality (kind of neat, that one, yes?). 
 Truthfully, I got lucky-and spoiled. 

Anyways, if I was to choose a Dom, what would I look for? 
 What kind of characteristics would I seek out? What would matter the most to me? And I'm sure this would be differ if I was looking for a long-term relationship than just someone to play with occasionally.
 Or would it? 
 During play, I'm rather vulnerable and I am especially fond of all my limbs, someone at the very least, who could respect limits would be idea. 

This crazy line of thinking entered my brain after reading a forum on the topic and I thought I would play pretend Q&A, putting together a list of characteristics that I would want if I was to go Dom Shopping (which, I have been informed, will never, ever happen) and to keep it from going totally off the rails, I thought I would do it with some seriousness, as if I was going to illustrate to someone new, the important things. 
(And obviously, I am hard-pressed for topics. Got any questions? I'll take brain needs a distraction from the panic of not having everything done...).

How much would his Domly experience matter to me? 

Well...anyone can pick up a flogger.
 At the very least, I would want someone who knew how, why and when to pick up that flogger and the reactions it would cause me. Someone insightful, then. And experienced, yes. How many other subs in the past he has had? Might not be a factor...because that wouldn't necessarily equate the quantity of his experience. 
Ooh...if he was experienced in fire flogging, I would want that! Because I like fire. And floggings.

How much would his reputation matter to me? 

I've never put stock in gossip or cared much of what others thought, but I have come to learn that in the kink community, reputation does matter and can be pretty accurate. I would ask around, definitely before I ever got further than a second meeting. But I would make up my own mind, because I'm stubborn that way.

Would I look for signs of strength? 

But what kind of strength? I wouldn't care how much the Dom Dude could bench press...but I would care about strength of he able to reveal something about himself that may be uncomfortable? Is he able to show me that he wants me? I guess I would be looking for delivered thorns and for him to walk into a room and sweep me off my feet-literally, right there. Yes, someone who can take charge, take control and thinks I am worth the risk of disruption, would be important to me.

What would throw me off and go on to the next one? 

If he has bad table manners. If he always has to raise his voice to talk. If he had a fondness for europop. If he showed signs of aggression. 
 Sometimes, dominance and aggression can be confused but there are subtle differences. Dominance is wanted, aggression is not. If he couldn't keep a houseplant alive..but then again, I can't keep a houseplant alive. On second thought, screw it, if he couldn't keep a houseplant alive, I'm moving on. 

Does he open doors? 

 I think the guys who are Dominants and are gentleman, often get overlooked.
But being a gentleman is more than opening doors.
"The final test of a gentleman is his respect for those who can be of no possible service to him."--William Lyon Phelps

How Domly Dude treats others, I would take note of. And in a community where the emphasis is often placed on what the bottom can do for the top and how the sub can be of service and how the Dom is supposed to just sit righteously on some kind of throne...I this last point can be hard to explain. 
But I think, to me at least, it's probably the one that matters most.

Well that and an ability for Domly Dude to get his own coffee order right--I mean seriously, if you can't be clear enough to your barista?? 

Friday, 12 September 2014

Friday Fragments: A Little of the Crazy...

When he asks me to do something, he expects me to do it. 
He knows, I will do it. 
He trusts that I will do it to the very best of my ability (because I have never been able to find the off switch for not throwing my whole self into absolutely everything I undertake) and I will do it quickly. 
 What I have always appreciated about him, is that when he asks me to do something, he does it trusting and knowing I will, under the parameters I wrote above, but he does not expect perfection. 
He's a perfectionist. 
I'm often humbled by the fact that he doesn't put his standards on me. 
It can't be an easy thing to do. 
But time and time again, it shows me that he knows I am trying and doing my best. 
He once told me that the perfect is in my offering and that's all he really asks for--nothing major, just surrender. 

I've been reminded over the last seven months, how crucial, I think it is that a relationship, even a power exchange one, ebbs and flows with the circumstances. I like that he doesn't insist on some rigid standard that I couldn't possibly ever meet--because life doesn't work that way. It's messy and circular and will ramble on and on out of the confines you try your hardest to impose on it. 

That brings me to the current ebb and flow. 
Our Hovel is a bit of a wreck right now. So many projects are just in those weird stages of not being completed because everything is dependent on the project before it to be completed and that's dependent on the one project that is taking up most time. 
 Our bed is in the living room, for goddesses' sakes. 
There are boxes and stuff all over the place and it's driving me out of my minimalist-loving-mind. 
 To compound the situation, we have two events coming up. 
So all of the stuff we need for the events, is well, on top of everywhere else. 
 Do you know how hard it is to clean and maintain a clear space, somewhere in this chaos?? 
It's throwing me off, just a little bit. 

I knew, as the words were tumbling out of my mouth that it was crazy. but I somehow couldn't stop them. 
"Do you think it's possible that we can hold off on having visitors until the rooms are sorted?" I asked him one night. 
Just like that, by the way, a lack of honorifics, certainly. 
He knows I've been driven nuts by the projects-not-being-done. He knows that in normal times, stuff like this drives me a little batty. During this time? Oh it hasn't been great, it's one of those mental threads that have been fraying around the edges. 
He gave me a look.
I realized, that it was a big ask. 
We generally like having people drop by. Occasionally he brings home clients--though I can't imagine how to entertain them in this chaos--but basically, I was asking if he minded forgoing the usual frills of his home. 
"We might be able to do that", he said. 

Now, logically and reasonably, do I actually expect this to hold true? No, because that would be just plain crazy. But he made me feel better by saying it, anyways. 
If I had asked him that seven months ago, he would have laughed, probably petted me on the head and told me to suck it up. But ebb and flow, remember? 
Has he been a little more indulgent of me during this time? Yes. 
Have I maybe, taken a little advantage of his indulgence? Yes. 
Have I then withered and freaked out about the lack of chain? Yes. 
Has he then, tightened that chain right up? Yes. 

Sometimes, try as hard as we might, even though we strive for more flowing movements in M/s, the reaction/action thing does work. 
 Sometimes, you just have to go with wherever the relationship happens to be at the moment. 
That includes a whole host of things, like dropping a label you first clung to,
fumbling after a few good tries, halting after a few good years or adapting because of a change in circumstances. 

The epitome moments do come...that total l'heure bleue surrender, but to reach it?
It's messy and's life, being well lived. 

Tuesday, 9 September 2014

Then, Now and Next

I'm aware that it can be hard to relate to different dynamics and I'm also aware that there are so very few M/s relationships, here in the blogsphere or in real life that resemble ours. 
 And if that makes me sound snobbish or elitist, so be it. 
I thought for my sanity and further clarification purposes, I would try and break everything down, in a to-the-point-way. 


Our dynamic is consensual non-consent. 
What does that mean? 
It means, that my consent has been waived, he does not need it. He does not have to negotiate, to ask for my permission to do anything he wants to me or with me. He does not have to run things by me, I follow. 
It means, he could get up right now, walk across the room and slap me across the face, just because he felt like it. 
He did that once, in front of an audience to illustrate the point.
It took a lot of self-control for me not to smack him and say, "Thank-you Master". 
 It's not that all of this comes easy, self-control is a huge part of it.
This also means, I don't say "no" to him.

I am owned. 
What does that mean?
It means he owns me. He very much, treats me like property. A lot of the time, that means as being treated as his most treasured and prized possession, but it still comes down to him treating me as property. 
I am a slave. 
What does that mean?
It means, that I have no say. 
He may ask for my opinion, or input, but it does not affect the outcome, nor do I expect it to.
 It means that he decides everything that happens in my world. 
It means that my world, is very much him
It means that he comes first, always. 
That there is only one way--and it is his way. 
There may be give and take--but it is not an equal give and take. 
This power exchange, is rampant with double standards. 
In very real day to day, for me it means: He decides when I work, where and how much. He controls the fiances. He decides where we live. He tells me what to do and when and how. 
It doesn't matter how I feel about a decision he has made, it's my role to accept it and get on the same page as him...or not...because he doesn't really care if I am in the mindset or not.
It doesn't matter if I disagree with what he has told me to do, I do it anyways. 
He directs my will, my focus, my energy and his dominance is what dictates my submission. 
But if I am not feeling submissive or slave-like? It has no bearing, he expects me to act as if I am. 

And all of this? Doesn't even touch the sex parts. 

I often think, that when it comes to the physical, it's easy. He decides when we have sex. I may ask--because he has trained me to--but I have no say over it. I may ask for play but he can and does say no. 
He decides and chooses what kind of play we do and how much of it. 
All of that is way easier, then being ordered to go to the post office, in the middle of the afternoon. Have I mentioned what a nightmare the village post office is? *shudders* Trust me, I am never in the "submissive mindset" while standing in that line. 

The Last Six Months/Or What Hormones Have Done 

Overall, this pregnancy has been great. 
It really has been an awesome time. 
I am feeling incredible, most days. 
But we've had to adapt. 
 And we have lived in this M/s way for a number of years now. 
It has been an up and down thing, in trying to wrap my head around how this doesn't fit in with M/s because I feel differently and how feeling differently is okay. 
He doesn't control my body right now, I don't control my body right now and my mind is in so much pregnancy fog I can barely see. 
Don't get me wrong: We are blissfully happy. We chose this. We wanted this. 
We have been ecstatic and have spent a lot of time cooing and awwing and doing all those things that expectant people do. 

But it has shaken up the routines. 
They are pretty much non-existent. 

And my standards may be high, but his are far more exacting. 
And just because I can't meet them right now, doesn't mean I don't feel like I should--I have a really tough time with that one. 

I'm by nature, a highly emotional being; I think in emotions, it is my bases for communication. 
The M/s has always helped to contain/control/soothe that vortex. 
But because there hasn't been much enforcement, I feel many days, as if the lid has come off. And I'm not sure how much of it is related to the hormones and how much of it is related to having the rug pulled out from under me, so to speak. 

He has decided to take many regular types of play off the table. 
He is in his rights to do that and to have made that decision.
And while I respect that and understand that he has been going through his own six months of stuff, it doesn't mean that I don't long for it, especially the intensity. 
I'm finding these days, I need more...reassurance, more praise, more encouragement. That's what I need
What I want is my Master and I often, like yesterday's post, chafe at how much loose chain I have and how I long for him to tighten it up. 

And I have a hard time, identifying what I need.
I don't ask for much.
So coming to realize that I need to be allowed to be vulnerable and taken care of, is a hard mind switch to throw. 

For the Next Three Months 

We can only continue to be us. 

And I can only continue to have this experience in the way I have chosen or am having it. I am not trying to reinvent the wheel, I'm just trying to do it in a way that makes sense to me. 
I hope I can find a way to just be with the emotions and I hope, that we can enjoy every moment of the next three months, just like we have enjoyed all the many moments of the last six. 

Monday, 8 September 2014

The Downs...and Ups...but Mostly Downs

I am supremely grateful to a blogging friend who told me a few months ago, "some of our worst fights happened when I was pregnant."

I feel less like an anomaly or like it's just me. 
But truthfully, it is just me these days. And it wasn't a fight. 
Not really. Not exactly. 
It was just me being emotional. 
Which I'm sure he chalks up to me being "irrational" although he has learned not to say that outloud. 

We have played here and there...little bits. 
And maybe that's better than nothing. 
And I understand how it's hard for him to wrap his head around it...I mean, him beating his pregnant wife...

But I miss it. 
It's not the play, or the service, or the routine or the harmony, that I miss--though I do and all these things are still there, even though they are like echoes of what they once were--it's the intensity that has been missing. 

There isn't anything I do in life that is half-way. 
And I love that with kink, it lets me be all the way in. 
Whole self, nothing left. 
And I love that in this one space, he meets me there. 
That it allows him to be all the way in. 

I miss that feeling...that state, of where his will...doesn't only dictate mine, but swallows mine whole and I have no choice but to bend...because my will in that moment, is his. 
His to use as he will. 
The intensity, I miss the intensity...because with it brings an intimacy that doesn't show itself anywhere else, but is there, as part of our foundation. 

I miss the intensity. 

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

Blissful Mail

It's not unusual to receive packages in the mail around here. We do more shipping of them than receiving, but still get a good steady stream of mail to the Hovel in relation to the business. 
So it wasn't surprising for Master to bring in a package one day last week. 
It was very surprising that the package was in our mailbox...but only because it fit. Usually there is a tag on the mailbox and then we have to go and retrieve it--because the mail/delivery people, never, ever, ever, never ring the bell, slight annoyance about living in a building--and for that reason, we usually have things shipped to his office...the village post office is a rather painful experience.

I had been waiting for a package. 
A few weeks back, we cleaned our toy kit, parting with implements that were no longer serviceable or homemade early days ones that we kept just because but had far out grown their effectiveness, broken bits and worn parts. It was a fun activity and it gave me a chance to voice what I may be wanting to add---it was also just a little bit cruel because there were things in our kit and things on the list that we can't use right now--and Master started telling me the pieces he was going order/collect. One item that we both wanted, was a new crop...being one of the things we parted with, there was a space missing in the kit for it. 
He told me he had ordered a new one, a few days later and then I started looking for the package. 

Because my mind is like swiss cheese, these days, I, of course, forgot all about it. I forgot that there was a new implement coming, I even forgot he ordered it--and I was very much looking forward to being hit with it, it had been awhile. 

He comes in with the package, leaves it on the counter and I wasn't all that interested, chalking it up to mail belonging to the business. To be fair, it didn't look like a package that could contain a crop, it was a padded envelope, so I might be excused for why my brain didn't make the connection. 

A few days later I said, "Aren't you going to open the package? I'm curious what's in it."
"You would like to know what's in it?" He smiled. 

He retrieved the package, told me to close my eyes. 
Now I start to remember, but still the shape of the package doesn't fit. 
I waited, eyes closed while he opened the package. 
"Put out your hands". 
I did, obediently and the next moment, I smell leather. Blissful new leather. And I was wholly relieved that it smells like leather and not sweat like leather smelt to me a few weeks ago. I also feel leather. 
"Open your eyes". 
Master gently flicked the fails across my palm. 
It was a small, new cat o'nine tails. 
And it was gorgeous. 
Now my mind is all churning, with, 'is he going to hit me with it? He has to! Not fair if he doesn't' 
 But you know, he has been comfortable with using on me and when has been kind of all over the place the last few months, just like my comfort with implements have been. We've pretty much learned to go with the flow. 
"Stand and put your hands above your head", he pointed to a spot on the wall. 
It had been a long time. I'm quivering as I moved into the position. 
I drew a deep breath in as I heard the leather sail through the air and then it landed on the small of my back. 
Relief and bliss and yes!
Master kept going for awhile and I melted. 

It was nice to have this type of play, nice when the moments meet where we both feel comfortable with it and if my mind hadn't been swiss cheese, that anticipation, or planted seeds, would have added that heady mix to the scene and I was reminded at how skillful he can be when it comes to laying those seeds. 

Thank-you for the new toy, Master. 

Monday, 1 September 2014

How To Drive

a service-oriented slave crazy: 

1. Announce that you are going to do a task she does, every day--in service to you.
2. Forbid her from doing the task. 
3. Order her to keep you company while you do the task (under the guise of "keeping me company"), thus making her watch. 

Damn sadist.