Friday, 26 June 2015

This Week in Bleue

In Bleue...yeah that was the best phrasing I could come up with...in point form:

He has been working from home all week. Strangely, this has resulted in me getting less done on my to do list because my eyes have been on his. It also feels like there is more work...and I have had way less downtime when downtime isn't always a given.

Still angry about the not writing thing. I'm angry enough to do something about it but lack the time. See above. Grrr. Read the draft. Hated it.

Family. Family sucks.
Experiencing major mama guilt over the fact that Baby Bleu doesn't  have better family.

Feeling alone in a weird kind of way.

It has felt very good to have my eyes on his to do list.
Reminder that we are still us.

We have a damn bubble.
Sometimes that means everyone tries to burst it at once.
But we just keep on bubbling (needs full post on this point to).

Neighbour: "My parents were theatre people."
Me: "I always wondered what their kids looked like."
Ohmygoddesohmygoddesohmygoddess
The realization that we are the creative types, with offspring.

Tell me...
This needs another post but:
Looking at taking new courses.
What do you think I should take?
(Humanities, Lit, Sociology etc)
 Most of you have had a good look inside my head...so figured it was wroth an ask.

Spam me with your favourite go to sites to answer:
"What the fuck do I make for dinner?"

---
Will be back when I can be more verbose.



Saturday, 20 June 2015

Interchangeables

Early morning.
I crawl into bed beside him.
He puts his arm around my neck, whispering sweet nothings.
"I love my wife."
"Why?"
"Because she's smart and funny and kind. I love her brain and her emotions."
"Ha! You do not love my emotions."
"Yes I do. I can live without the expression of them sometimes but I still love how you emote."
"Love you too."
His arm tightens on my throat.
"No, no we don't have time".
"You can't say no, slave."
He moves me, where he wants me, somehow his forearm is still across on my neck, he increases pressure until speaking is difficult, He tells me to shut up and whispers dirty words in my ear.
"You are here for me to fuck".
No time for foreplay.
No lube.
No need,
He uses me hard.
"Be a proper slave and cum for me."
Surprising but I do just that, feeling his weight, his muscles his strength.
He moves his arm off my throat, lets me up.
"Go shower."
I thank him for the orgasms.
"Slaveling?"
I pause on the stairs, "yes?'
"Happy Anniversary."
"Master, I love you. Happy Anniversary."

...




Friday, 19 June 2015

The Week Ends

Hours.
Many more hours and then this day will be over.
Then...we are on to something new.

Just when it finally chilled a little....

Gods, so much more interesting things to write about other than these point forms, I swear.

I asked him last night, if he had second thoughts or doubts.

"No."

Okay then.

Wednesday, 17 June 2015

So...Pet Dragons

Do you think they do floors?

This week is wearing on me.
 So many thoughts and emotions,,,gods.

I feel edgy.
I feel touched out.

I stood in the shower for ten minutes this evening and I didn't want to come out.
Read ten pages of J.R. Ward's The Shadows.

Ran around the village today, doing errands.

I'm edgy and touched out.
I mentioned that...

Managed to make dinner.
My kitchen looks like the pet dragon can't clean up very well.

Really want to write.
The level of anger that started over not having anything done, has increased...maybe I should just send the whole mess...

"At least there is coffee and chocolate."

He really does have his strong points.

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Two HoursWork

It's completely selfish of me.
But I really wish I could find two hours in the day where I could give my undivided attention to something.
He is chasing a deadline this week, so there goes the extra pair of hands at night and I don't need it and I don't need a break and I don't need those two hours, its just a 'it would be nice if' kind of thought and by gods, those extra pair of hands are very nice..the difference between showering and not some days.

So many drafts and no time to finish them off.
There are milestones happening this week!!!

Oh? And I am getting increasingly angry with myself over not having a book out yet. Dammit.

If I could find that extra hour....
 I might be posting pages.


Friday, 12 June 2015

Slave Enough

"My master wants to read you blog." (Cute blog email).

That's nice. I'm sure my Master does too.
Cue collective FL crowd then going off on a tangent of how not slave I am and how I am slaving all wrong or how he isn't mastering me enough.

It is not my responsibility to dictate how he uses the power he has over me.

I kicked him off the blog permissions list last year, when I got annoyed with him. He kept saying he was going to write something for here and didn't.

Did it bother him?
He said, "Hey! That's not fair!" but didn't make it an issue and he has always allowed me space and illusory privacy to scrawl here.

He has all my passwords.

Not my fault if he doesn't think to check in occasionally, I'm not preventing him from doing so and I suspect he has and does read here but the how is a mystery and its one of those things both of us knows but never mention.

I think it amuses him.

It's not about making him happy.
Do things I do make him happy? Sure.
Is it my goal in life? No.

So maybe in other households, in other M/s dynamics, the domly one doesn't fold laundry.
He finally admitted that he likes doing laundry and hates how I do it.
He has resistance too and his resistance, when it pops up can lead us down the path of having the same useless argument for years.

Maybe in other households, when their baby woke up at 4am, the domly one would have stayed sleeping.
His philosophy is, 'If I can't beat her yet, join her.'
Besides, I didn't think I was going into parenthood singly. Okay, might have thought that for a moment or two but was corrected.

Definitely, in some other M/s household's, the slavey one doesn't critique the work of the master.
In this one, it's routine.
That work goes out with his name on it to hundreds of other people.
When I rip it apart, sometimes using all the harsh languages, it makes him able to maintain his laid back, water off a duck's back, "I don't care what you think" vibe. 
It is true, he doesn't care what those others think of him, those other people don't love him.

The chaos of the last few months, really comes down to I fell in to old habitual thinking, in feeling like I had to protect my wounded self.
I thought he had beaten that out of me years ago.

It's the old thinking that says:

You have to prove yourself to justify your existence.
You have to prove yourself, to justify the outcome, because the way in which it happened, didn't go according to plan.
It was an eruption of battle of wills, in me trying to put my will over him, out of a false sense of needing protection. I went against our strong current that our M/s flows on. I took up the fight that I had given over to him years ago in trying to reclaim power, in trying to prove my worth.


Maybe I had some weird notion in my head that he suddenly wanted me to be all pleasing and still, all high protocol and devoid of all fire.

I want him to direct, to use what I give.
I need to be used and useful.
I don't care if what I do or how I do it, is pleasing to him.
If he wants pleasing, he can buy another painting. I'm not a damn statue.
Maybe it s a rash of stubbornness left that he hasn't overrode out of me, but trying to please is pretty useless.

He wants all of me, not just the behaviours he modified to be pleasing to him.
All of me,comes with some grit and fire and punch.
It comes with some baggage and wounds and gaping holes.
All of me comes with impulses and flinging around hearts as if I have them in spades.

Just like the pretension of him not reading here, I need the illusion of still holding on to that hard fought for independence, of maintaining the fight long after I have surrendered the will.

~~~~Bleue~~~~~


"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




Tuesday, 9 June 2015

Pandora, calling....

 What was I thinking?
Dear goddess, its like I had this conversation yesterday.

I am share-o-phobic.
 Ripe with second-guessing.

When I asked for post suggestions, I didn't think anyone would respond with you know, actual suggestions.
And maybe spewing all over FL isn't okay. Maybe I'm doing it all wrong.

Maybe I should just scratch the whole thing yet again.

Obviously, the plan was to work up to opening this up again.
Plan? Not good.

And its also kind of like an onset of dormant sub-frenzy (ha).
Seriously!!!! I want to do everything!!!!

WAY too many unsupervised moments without coffee. This isn't good because it means, he will have to micro-manage and no one is happy with that scenario. Coz clearly I can't manage on my own in pseudonym online interactions.

His response to this???

"There, there pudding its okay."

But its not.
 
Clutching cold coffee, chanting 'can't share, can't share'.

Last few months in haze had a major upside.

Dawn

Of course it takes more than a few nights of play and sex to set everything on balance again. But the play and sex help.
 A lot.

Suddenly, it is like a curtain being pulled back. I feel more like myself than I have all year. 
That is good but also I feel a bit alarmed and downright queasy taking in how much I wasn't myself.

In true emotional masochist fashion, I am reveling in the reveal. 

After quick play last night, it made me realize, the physical way in which I process pain, has changed. I don't know how to explain it with any more clarity than that (I know its crazy...but I also can't take the heat...at all...any kind of heat and I was one bundled up in 30c weather...I thought maybe there is a relation here?) but it does affect not just play but life.
Pain feels differently.

Many times over the years, I have thought that I need the play more than he does. That's not quite true, it is an outlet and release for him just as much as it is for me. 
But...I realized that though I like service--debatable if I am still wired that way or not--I need the play, to process it...one fuels the other for me in my head.

I need that space where I can fling myself with abandon. He takes it all and gives it back to me, through the cords of pain. 
  Something like that.

*
I am practicing sharing work because it terrifies me.
Suggestions on posts to share?


Monday, 8 June 2015

Fetlife

Right.

So a lot of my blogger friends have been discovering/joining Fetlife and have been blogging about it, since this past March.

Thought it was my turn to post thoughts about it.

Unlike most of you, I have the opposite problem where I want to keep my blog identity separate from real life friends. Further, I would love to connect with greater blogland through FL while this blog is closed, maybe I would post archival posts from here or what not.

For those of you who have me on there, you probably know even more about me through that profile that puts you closer to knowing the who of me in real life. I knew and understood the risks and have no regrets about letting you in on that FL profile.

But I don't interact on there as much as I would like to at times because of those real life connections.

How to put this.......?

Every village has their crazy.
I wish this crazy wasn't friends with me but if I removed them from friends that would rock a boat I don't want to rock.

So....in order to share and interact more, I have created another FL profile.


Feel friend to friend me there, if you like.

Bleuegirl.




Alignment, Recap

This weekend was really good. Our weekends used to be like  mini-holidays and the past few have started to feel like that again.
 We tend to do a lot.

That's not to say it was all smooth sailing. There were a few rocky moments there that could have upturned the whole experience but it didn't.

There was a midwife picnic, basically a chance to catch-up with the midwives and show how your baby has grown. We had known about it for well over a month. I had asked him last week, if he wanted to go. In all honestly, I thought he would have pushed for it because:

-He loves showing off Baby Bleu
-He has been telling me to get out more with baby

He also likes picnics and soicalizng way more than I do.
 All week, I asked him about it and it was a back and forth of 'How do you feel, should we go?' let me also mention that the location of picnic not the easiest for us to trek to and it was kind of far.
 He still hadn't given me a clear answer by Friday but kind of left it hanging on the not likely side and I had a handful of moments of feeling like it was unfair and that I was missing out on this picnic, suddenly voicing that I did want to go and by then it had grown much bigger in my head.
 He didn't know how I would react to this picnic and wasn't completely sure it wouldn't cause a stress/trigger reaction.
He had made the decision, he was just a little murky on the communication, we ended up talking it out.

This was good. This was an instance where I needed him to protect me from myself, because of course I had convinced myself that  I could handle going to this thing and whatever justification I was throwing out ('baby needs to soicalize') was in support of that.
This showed us kind of where I am on the whole submission front and where he  needs to be...more active perhaps than he has been...maybe its more apt to say it showed where I am in relation to how I feel about slavehood. Probably still not there completely but close enough for him to make it an issue and he has.

A lot of our time was spent on work stuff, and it felt great to put my head there and be there for him--even though I was infused with guilt over how much I haven't been there for him...getting past it and moving on....I have to...life is coming at us at top speed and I can either go with the bounce or resist and I know where resistance leads.

The cosmos aligned baby slept, the work stuff was finished (a project that made me feel all slave-proud) and he took out heavy flogger and had at me.

My pain tolerance is still low and we still haven't explored what I can take (I almost wish we could go to an exploratorium where no one knows us--while nothing has changed, in the fact that I still believe his limits are mine, he doesn't exactly want to break me either) he pushed me more than he has since the birth.

He plugged me.
Can you tell  me what the point is? Because I remembered how much I hate being plugged and was only happy he didn't bring out the bigger one or the dildo. Insertables, never my favourite.

Tears and screams, ending  in withered bliss.

***












Friday, 5 June 2015

Outside, Inside

This is me, on the inside.





If I could pull off the alternative-steampunk-modern-goth-look I would do it in a heartbeat. The most I could probably do is blue hair. He won't let me dye it.



At other times, I feel like this, though never manage to pull off that carefree look.





And I've always wanted to do this:



And my soul might have a little bit of this:



My reality is more like this:



***
There is a girl across from us on the train.
She is tall and thin, with long purple hair, loosely tied back.
Her hair is shiny and ultra purple, I can't stop looking at it.
Her skin is ivory. I can't tell if it's natural or really well done make-up.
She has huge red-framed sunglasses on, she is wearing a long skirt made funky fabric, cherries and letters of the alphabet, she is is wearing high-heel black boots, her bag is made of recycled juice boxes and is filled with bolts of fabric, her hands are covered in rings, a simple stud in her nose.
I wonder where she going.
I wonder if she makes all her clothes and it makes me wish I could sew.
I wonder what music is playing through her ipod.
I wonder if we would have anything in common.
I wonder if she would even see me, if she would pause for a moment to notice that my inside is kindred to her outside.
 And...
I wonder what is it that is making me feel attracted to her, beyond the appearance.

***
"Is that an eternity collar?! It's beautiful."
It took me a moment in the crowd, to realize someone was speaking to me.
We are at an event. It isn't a comment I expect at this type of place.
Speaker of the comment is very tall, athletic, muscular, silver-framed glasses framing gorgeous hazel eyes, left ear covered in jewelry.
I stayed silent as the compliment giver sits down next to me, lights a cigarette.
She introduces herself and that makes it easier on me, because I don't have to guess.
Her hair is short and spiky, the tips are blue.
We chat for awhile.
She tells me what she is doing here. Tells me she is a performer and a model.
I tell her what I'm doing there.
She thinks its cool.
We comment on the stupidity around us, if they keep doing that there, they will be hurt...large crowds, open spaces, idiotic what happens.
She asks me if I'm on Fetlife, she tells me her name.
I tell her mine.
She stands up, wishes me luck and I watch her walk away.
 I return to what I'm doing, why I'm there but I feel kind of swoony because of the compliment and the conversation.

***

We were talking, a few weeks back about pansexuality.

Wiki scoop: "Pansexuality, or omnisexuality,[1] is sexual attractionromantic love, or emotional attraction toward people of any sex or gender identity.[2][3] Pansexual people may refer to themselves as gender-blind, asserting that gender and sex are insignificant or irrelevant in determining whether they will be sexually attracted to others."

For me, it is more about what is inside a person that their outside.
 It doesn't mean I don't have preferences but it does mean, I have often been the  only one in the room not fawning over that guy's abs because though his package may be pleasing to the eye, the vibe he is giving off is yicky.
 I'm attracted to shiny and interesting, intelligence and gentleness.
Those that stand out from the crowd, have and will always catch my eye.

The ones that pause long enough to see that my outside doesn't match my inside, have been so rare.









Thursday, 4 June 2015

Just thinking...

Of what my response would be if he were to ask me to find him a sub to play with.

Maybe it's because I still don't feel completely compliant and willing these days, maybe it's because I am growing into a different kind of slave brat or maybe it's because I'm really tired and covered in spit-up and poop...but if he said to me,

"Find me a sub."

I think the words out of my mouth would be;

"Fuck off."

Told you, its not very slave-like.

I happen to know, he wouldn't ask this of me, because he has strong opinions on such things and in his opinion, it wouldn't be very gentlemanly of him to request that of me.
It would put me in a position neither one of us wants me to be in--that of power.

If he came home and told me that he found someone?

I would put on the kettle.

That's a whole different conversation.


And it could only happen because we have had numerous conversations about poly, playing with others and having an open relationship over the years, we know each other's minds on the subject.

***

Sometimes in Blogland we topic off each other. Comments on Misty's post made me think of all the 'My Dom wants me to find a sub' threads on Fetlife and Mouse's post is too beautiful not to share for those on my email list who might not have otherwise seen it.



















Monday, 1 June 2015

Back to Us.

(I will pick up the last post, as soon as I can find the time to rebuttal. Thanks for the comments. Greengril made some great points, here)

I wish I had the mental power to string this post together in more of a cohesive thought but my mind thinks only in point form, these days, short paragraphs at best.

We have always done things together, pregnancy and baby might have rocked this boat a little but after that initial period of adjustment, the three of us go places together. We are a little pack. This past weekend, we spent 12hrs out of the Hovel and it was great.

I stopped going to La Leche League meetings. I had started going at the urging of a wonderful lactation consultant who thought I would be a good support to other moms...because I would often say, 'breastfeeding is hellish and I don't recommend it' and be honest about my experience. I liked the meetings. I didn't relate to any of the women there, but it was fun. I might go back again...but I stopped going because the US just overturned their policy and now all fathers are welcome at the meetings. Canada's policy remains that it is up to the group's leaders.
I know on the surface, this doesn't seem to be a big deal but when we look at breastfeeding success and know that one of the biggest contributing factors is spousal/partner support, it becomes a big deal.
 Sometimes, the meetings would turn into a bitch fest, where women would complain or criticize about their partners. It honestly sounded at times, as if these women had married uneducated, uncivilized cavemen.

Besides the fact that I don't criticize my husband, I couldn't join in because mine isn't like that.

My husband, knows how to change a diaper.
My husband knows how to wash clothes.
My husband, is capable of feeding himself.
My husband takes charge and doesn't expect me to be in charge, he expects me to follow his lead.

The meetings take place in part of the village that I'm not all that familiar with and it took awhile for me to feel confident taking baby out by himself and I don't drive. He would escort me to the meetings. Make sure we got in the door, then he would wander in nearby shops or take his work into the coffee shop next door and come get baby and I when the meeting was over.

When he walked in to get me at the end of the last meeting, one of the women, one of the leaders, said "There is your rescuer."

It wasn't said in the kindest of tones.
Was it jealousy? Or her thought that I should be able to go to these meetings by myself? Or was it an insult that I 'need' a rescuer? I'm still not sure how to take that comment,

To be truthful, he is my rescuer in a lot of ways.
I think of him as being strong, capable, intelligent, of being dominant though maybe more understated than some.
Mouse probably put it best in one of the comments, "Nothing doms a Dom like a new baby."
By the Goddess, did I want to just hug her for that one.
I have been so caught up in my own tangled emotions that I didn't fully realize what baby did to him--I mean, I saw and knew on one level but maybe I was slow to grasp the effect, or see the differences on that heart level and how it affected him and bled into the whole of us.
It took awhile for him to communicate the baby effect, too.
 Because while having baby didn't turn him into a caveman, it did give him Dadbrain.
Dadbrain.
How the fuck was I supposed to know about Dadbrain??????

Maybe it does make us rare that we enjoy spending time with each other.

Domestic service isn't something he has ever asked me for but over the years, I took it all on as something I do but he always pitches in.
 There are chores that I always do because he prefers it. And maybe when I stopped doing what I normally do around the Hovel--at first because I couldn't, then because something he read got in his head, then because he stressed and tried to control everything---it did bring us that much more off kilter because home and hearth has always been my centre, where we draw our resources from, its where the 'us' resides, after all.

So maybe its unusual that he comes to the doctor check-ups and the babywearing meet-ups.
But I was  an unusual sight, in my long skirt, wearing my baby standing in the beehive of high-heels and briefcases, waiting for him after a meeting, because it happened to be close to home.

I've spoken on here before about my struggles with coming to love a home, with finding security and learning that it is a possible ideal to achieve and with being okay that service is actually fine to want to offer.
It took a lot. It took a lot of patience and understanding on his part. It took a lot for me to trust that he wasn't going to criticize me or tell me I wasn't doing xyz wrong, when I put forth the effort. Hearth and home became important to me over the years, because he taught me to have pride in my home..and it was a lot for me to trust that it wasn't going to be snatched out from under us.
I still struggle with all those insecurities, from time to time.

Me not being able to do what I did for years, both work and home, was really hard on me.
It didn't matter the reason--I was in pain, adjusting to baby, he was trying to be kind and helpful or stressed, it really affected me and took me right back to those insecurities.
Took away my sense of power, the sense that I can contribute, my worth.
Almost as though he took away the place he gave me.
  It wasn't that I wanted to work and have a spotless house with a newborn, it was the fear that those things were never going to be attainable, not knowing how or when.

And maybe my head was stuck in that space of insecurity for awhile with the arrival of baby.

But...day by day, I am learning how to do more with baby and how to make the new addition an inclusion.
Some days, I feel like I have it.
Other days, nothing gets done in life other than baby and I'm learning to be okay with that.

Between the Dadbrain and the hormones and all the postpartum issues, the bigger picture was lost.
In the insecure, emotionally intense place the last few months had me, at times, I felt like I had to fight for my own footing...if I didn't fight, I would be lost.
I was wounded with young.
His logical mind, suddenly was warring with Dadbrain.

His main goal of M/s has always been harmony.
For us, it has never been about his happiness or mine, but the constant, changing pursuit of our happiness. He doesn't hold me responsible for his happiness and I don;t hold him responsible for mine.
 Our ebb and flow, our version of a power exchange, might have crept back in little particles here and there.

I know it has been a process, something that took time but there was this one moment over the weekend, where I said something, gave clarification to a point I have been expressing for months, it was like dawn breaking.

I have always thought that his Dominance dictates my submission, and it does. But it is also my surrender that fuels his mastery of me.
He brought us back to us.

*******
Might be wishing for an hour where he can demonstrate it to me.