Thursday, 29 December 2016

Not Original

This might not bother me so much with us if it didn't happen with everyone else in my world.
 I'm the one who tends to initiate. I'm the first to text. I'm the first to extend an invite. I'm the first to organise. I'm the one who plans and arranges. 
I am the idea one.

And this has been a struggle with us in different forms over the years. I'm the one likely to utter the words, "Let's try this". 
Or even, "You should do that."
Often its because I'm the one who is seeing it differently than he is and he counts on me to do that and bring him that information.
It doesn't mean that he does it. 
It doesn't mean I expect him to do it because I pointed and said, "there" but it does mean I am more of the initiator than he is and I think this irks me more now than it used to and it seems like I am constantly having to check myself and accept that's just how it is and go on with things.

I would like to be invited.

And I am struggling with offering vs having this need for him to take over and implement his will.
I feel like I have offered.
And I feel like those offerings have been left unaccepted.

At the same time, I feel like if he wanted more, he would use the power he has and tell me or show me or wrestle me to the ground and beat me. 

So nothing new here.

Monday, 19 December 2016

The Early Longest Night

Its 6:30am.
No one in the Hovel slept last night.
Just now are my people to sleep.

It was nerve-grating and exhausting and both of us lost our cool.
My endless patience even hit a snag and I was yell-y.
That sucked.

But some how, we turned it around.
We assuaged it with humour and that opened the door to grace.
Which brought us back together, turning towards each other.


Sunday, 18 December 2016

Sometimes as simple as...

Him saying, "I want eggs and bacon for breakfast".
And me saying, "Okay".
Even though I had a whole other breakfast plan in mind. 
He tells me what to do and I do it, no matter how small.

Each time He makes a request of me, its reinforcing the dynamic.
And when I do it without protest, when I do it even when I don't want to, I'm responding. 

Friday, 9 December 2016

Friday Fragments: Calling Him....

This year's batch of sugar offerings were truly exceptional! Thanks again to Jz for putting it all together and to everyone who contributed. I'm going to try all of them, really.

One of my readers, the lovely and quiet RM asked me about names, as in why am I referring to Him as "Owner" these days.
 If you have been reading along as RM has, then you know all of the various incarnations and might recall how some of them came about and why.
And its a question we hear all the time, "What do I call my Domly one?" And off the top of my head, I can think of five bloggers who have written with the calling him sir/daddy/master posts.

Words are powerful. Its powerful to call something by what it is and to assign it a name, it speaks to our intent and purpose and in these cases, has the power we give it by even shaping some of our most personal relationships. 

He prefers that I don't use his name. 
He likes hearing "Owner" from my lips. 
And its a reflection of where we are right now.
I do utter "Sir", usually its after He's beaten me, as in "thank-you Sir" and sometimes its with a lot of prodding because that's where I am at.
Remember, I'm not all into the surrender thing these days--there is too much going on in my head and in our life to be as intense M/s as we were. 
And while we might be still in that bumpy place, we are still together but means focus has shifted to where it needs to be.
 He needs to wrestle and beat other things into submission right now before He can singularly give us His focus again.

And I will whine and curse and throw a fit and tantrum about all of that because my fuse for patience for anything other than what is most important to us is very short...super, super, super short.

Owner, is the most accurate and truthful.
I might not be submitting with surrender, to his every wish and command, but He still owns me.
He might not be attending me with all abandoned, but He still owns my ass.
So for the sake of these pages, Owner it is for now.


Wednesday, 7 December 2016

Jz's Cookie Day!!!!!!!!!!

Here is my offering for the Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza!
Many thanks to Jz for bringing us all together!

This one is pure sugar.
Its sugar.
Then more sugar.
Covered in sugar.
And its oh so divine.
My favourite dessert and I hadn't made them in a couple of years.
 When I told Owner that I was going to post this for this year's cookie day, I was ordered to make them. So there I was, at o'clock at night making them.
I didn't mind and it means you get a picture.
Besides, I'm getting used to that whole sleep-deprived thing.

It is the orginal receipe. My notes are in blue.

Nanaimo Bar Recipe

Bottom Layer

½ cup unsalted butter (European style cultured)
¼ cup sugar
5 tbsp. cocoa
1 egg beaten
1 ¼ cups graham wafer crumbs
½ c. finely chopped almonds (also great with pistachios)
1 cup coconut
(I used shredded, unsweented)
Melt first 3 ingredients in top of double boiler (or one large pot of boiling water, with another pot precariously sitting on top)
Add egg and stir to cook and thicken. Remove from heat. Stir in crumbs, coconut, and nuts.
Press firmly into an ungreased 8" x 8" pan.

Second Layer
½ cup unsalted butter
2 Tbsp. and 2 Tsp. cream
2 Tbsp. vanilla custard powder
2 cups icing sugar

Cream butter, cream, custard powder, and icing sugar together well. Beat until light. Spread over bottom layer (no bowl or mixer needed. I take the pot of water, empty it and toss in all the ingredients into that...helpful if you like me, always forget to leave the butter out to soften and don't own a microwave, the slightly still warm pot helps the process)

Third Layer
4 squares semi-sweet chocolate (1 oz. each)
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

(It never looks like enough topping. Ever. No matter how many times I make these, but there is enough. One year, I totally screwed this part up and ended up making a chocolate ganache--worked great!)
Melt chocolate and butter over low heat. Cool. Once cool, but still liquid, pour over second layer and chill in refrigerator.

Would love to hear if you gave this a whirl!

Monday, 5 December 2016

Chaos is a breath away

With focus, with dedication, with subtlety and will.
With love, commitment and steadfast will.
And all the time.
You took my wild and tamed it into something new.
You took my armour piece by piece and had me lay down my barbs.
 You claimed me, making me slave.
Making me need. Making me beg for those needs to be fulfilled. Making me dependent.
I stopped tending the flames of my own desires.
And gave away to yours.

You left without leaving.
Leaving me spinning.
Leaving me without a shield.
Leaving me alone.
You got captured by your own orbits.
Everything spun out of control.

Including me, because there was nothing to hold me in place and as you floated away and it all twirled around.

And I grow frustrated.
And I grow impatient.
Watching waiting, for you to stop spinning.
And chaos is only a breath away.

But we did not build this ship to wreck.
So I will wait.
And while I do, I will tend my own fires.
And fill my own wells.

You can ask me to sacrifice over and over until I have nothing left to give and even then, you take all that you can.
And even without armour, you ask me to fight.
The hardest fight has always been to stand down.
Let you fight your own battles.
You are the only one who gets to spin in circles.
But I will not martyr.

I would rather spend my lifetime on my knees, begging forgiveness than stand by and watch you pummel down into dust...when I could have at least laid down to break your fall and by doing so kept you whole.
I can love enough to risk the failures.

And all the time.
You take my wild and tamed it into something new.

Wednesday, 30 November 2016


Kind of starting from the end with this one because that`s how its in my head.

I`m running on too little sleep, coming down with something viral and keeping the waves of panic at bay best I might. I have been using distraction a lot, which is only a band-aid, I know but its been a hectic week. 
He has needed me this week. 

There hasn`t been any time for me to process or fall into one big mess, which is how the big panicky waves are threatening to leave me if I stood still long enough for them to overtake me.. There hasn`t been time to stand still.

My day started at 4am, not by choice. This is where you tell me, there will be sleep one day. I know, I will miss it, I already do as its fleeting...but sleep.

He took over for me, letting me rest, it didn't work out that way but it was a nice gesture. He also gave me time this afternoon and if I wasn't so exhausted it would have been good downtime (see? He has saintly qualities).

"Paddle or plug?"
He asked me last night.
We were lounging together all casual and entwined like.
I protested because I dislike anything with a 'choose your own theme' and it was all very fun and light.
He insisted.
I choose plug.
Not my fav but I do not like the heavy paddle He was twirling.

 It was funny to watch Him try and find the toys. Our gear needs one heck of a make-over and all the things are in a mess and it drives Him kind of batty (why was I lazing and around watching? Coz it would have driven him crazy if I had helped) His space isn't organized at the moment.

He couldn't find a plug.
Too bad.
Wanted to gag me.
Couldn't find the gags.
He grabbed a roll of painters tape and tapped my mouth.
Started paddling me to my muffled protests.

He continued tormenting me.
At one point, He flipped me over, had me stay still.
He turned his back to me, picked up an object and came at me.
Cue Bleue freaking out as He came at my taped mouth with something sharp and shiny.
I think I actually started sweating.

It was a pin.
His plan as to pinprick the tape on my mouth and elsewhere.
A teeny-tiny rather harmless pin.

I was kind of half-way into floaty land.
And we do know I'm an emotional wreck this week, yah? But seriously: a pin.

I ran pulled as far away from Him as I could.
"Bleue, I'm not going to harm you", He pulled the tape off my mouth, hugged me hard.
I pushed Him away.
"No, go. I'm not doing this. Stop."
He held me.
"Sorry my dear Bleue, but I have plans for you."
"You don't have a choice", He kissed me and stroked me and named all my parts and told me they were all His.
"I own you. That means I do what I want", He put his finger down my throat and pulled on my ladybits.
I had chilled.
 The rest of it was pleasant.
He hurt me and used me and pounded me and did other things that make me feel as if I have been stretched on a rack, and it felt right and normal and fine.
More than fine. There was a cookie.

He knew to push on.
 I trusted enough to give over.

 The times when I worked so hard to push Him away, were the times I needed Him to stay by my side.

Tuesday, 29 November 2016

Surprise from the Archives

It has been a long while since I was a new blogger, giving my stats any thought.
I write for me these days--for you---but mostly for me.
I get email and I love comments and that's good enough for me, I don't care if 3 people stopped by or 103.

But you do notice increase activity, especially when its on one post.
Especially when its on one post from 2013.

This post: Getting Edgy Thoughts on Humiliation Play had 120 views yesterday. 

That leads me to believe that someone, somewhere, shared it but I can't see who did or where the views originate from.

So thank-you to whomever shared that post!!!

It was a nice surprise and it took me down memory lane in the best of ways, 2013 was a good year for us. Reading that post brought back that day, sharp in my memory and made me smile. 

Monday, 28 November 2016

He answers.

(Because you know, this is the week of puppies and kittens or emotional spew. He played along with this meme! Thank-you for indulging me, Owner!)

What is something I always say?

What can I have for snack?

What makes me happy?

Walking with me with a latte in your hand.

What makes me sad?

Running out of tea.

How tall am I?


What is my favourite thing to do?

Go for a drive with me.

What do I do when you are not around?


If I become famous what would it be for?

Something super cool.

What makes you proud of me?

Your determination. And research-bunny skills.

What is my favourite food?

Something I can't make and can't find out how to make which irritates me. (true. Its a dish my mum used to make)

What is my favourite restaurant?

Any breakfast place.

Where is my favourite place to visit?


If I could go anywhere where would it be?


How do I annoy you?

By leaving tea bags in the sink.

What's my favourite film?

Jim Henson's Labyrinth.

You get a phone call that I'm in trouble. Who will I be with?

My sister.  (true. Everyone else is too responsible or wouldn't tell if we were in trouble)

Saturday, 26 November 2016

Remorse, Repair, Reflections, Resolutions

The flame is low on the cauldron of anger at the moment. There is so much about anger that I have learned, having become intimate with it over these long months.
 Different degrees, different shades, different intensity.

 I remember when the rage finally burned low--not out but low enough that I could laugh without it being tainted the next the moment. It literally was like a switch going off. Relief, that's another 'R' I could add to this list because the relief of not having that rage consume me from the inside out is glorious.

This latest bout of anger, blew the cobwebs away. It actually brought clarity to tangled mess of half formed thoughts and bits of intuition that wasn't quite piecing together to be anything other than wisps. 
So along with the clarification, the seeing what had to be done, brought a hefty dose of remorse.
He hurt me but I hurt him. And I know he saw my reaction to the hurt he caused as being overblown. He also saw it as rejecting him, putting conditions on him on...and worse, me putting conditions on how I love him. There is truth there. Remorse, yes, I have a lot of remorse for that one.

But it was not my intent. 
 I don't know what to do with that kind of anger, of the anger that comes from being hurt by him. I don't know where to put it, other than direct it at him and that's not the solution and leads us to be two steps back from the steps forward we have made, or were making before an interruption occurred.

Last year, we were so focused on healing the physical. On just surviving and when we came out of that, I think both of us were surprised, but differently so, to find our dynamic, our marriage, wasn't exactly where we left it. 

This year, has been about coming to terms with that, growing from that and working for stability. I swear that at the same time as this has been bumpy, it has also shown me that our foundation is as strong as I believed it to be because at moments, its that which has cradled me.

There has always been an inherent inequality to our dynamic, a double standard, even before we were BDSM in the bedroom, before we were D/s, way before we were CNC...its just how we have flowed. He set that tone early on.
Arguments and conflicts were few and far between.
He always was able to bring me back and centre, in the middle of whatever emotional storm I was riding.

He would do that either by using the constructs of our dynamic, using kink as a tool or by breaking the tension, or by just being my calm.
All of that is still present. But the access to that, is not the same. So as time went on we forgot how to solve conflict, how to repair.

He has been so concerned about my well-being and so focused on fixing it all--understandably---that sometimes we've responded to what is there at the moment but haven't connected.

I think that just comes with the life we have now, too.

We are learning how to connect again, how to repair, how to be each other's place again.
It might be a bumpy place but its not awful or bad or horrible. This makes up maybe a tenth of what goes on in life---the 90% that I don't write about is pretty good.

Its the time of year where the pool of reflection is active for me, stuff is rising to the surface.
And while all of that is happening, I'm being his seer and cheerleader and doing all the things I signed up for, because I haven't figured out how not to do that, I don't think I can no matter how wounded I may be walking.

That sounds more morose than I am feeling, so I'll end this post with a picture of  a thing that makes me happy.

Sunday, 20 November 2016

Just of those...

Soul-crushing, awful, horrible, stupid day.

Because its up and down.

But gods, I don't know how many more days like this I can take.

The Cookie

Back when we used to go to munches and kink events, (*sobs*) you would often hear the ubiquitous comments about the sub getting a cookie, in a wink, wink, nudge nudge euphemism kind of way.

Naturally, this caused me to internally roll my eyes.
Like, we can't say the word "orgasm"?

Cookies are amazing.Take it from someone whose household has been sugar-free except occasionally after midnight for two years, sugar is awesome.

Also in this household, orgasms are optional and my chances of getting a dessert are probably far better.

I'm so happy that Jz is once again hosting the Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza, the instructions are below! This is so much fun! Come and join us! Contact JZ if you want to add your sugar to the pile.

On Wednesday, December 7th 2016,
The seventh celebration of the increasingly inaccurately named
Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza
And I hope that you (yes, you!) will join us.

The rules are pretty simple:

1- Post a recipe on that day for a holiday goodie.

That’s it - rules finished.
*dusts off hands*

The goodie doesn't have to a cookie… or even be sweet.
That, in fact, is where the increasing inaccuracy comes in - because we have all KINDS of goodies on offer! (There are many forms of holiday goodie love, after all.)

The one catch is that if you want to get your name on the official list of participants:
You must contact me (Jz) by Monday, Dec. 5th, with both your name and the address of your blog. (I don’t mind if you do this through the comments section below, but if you do, please make sure that you include an email address at which I can reach you. << why I prefer an email - two birds with one cyber-stone.)

I'll also be happy to post a recipe for anyone who'd rather participate that way.

I hope to hear from you (yes, you!) soon!


Friday, 18 November 2016

LOL DAYS 11: Love Our Lurkers 11 November 18-19, 2016


I am so happy you are here.
I don't know what I would do without this place.

And all of you, the ones who read and stay and linger, the ones who flip quickly through, the ones who read it all without ever saying a word, are the ones that are a big part of this place, too.

I know, I know.
 I left for awhile.

And my emotions that are as fickle as the weather, may often leave you to believe that I'm outta here again.
But I do always come back.
One way or another.

You have some of my soul.

Today's your day!

The day we say, THANK-YOU for reading.

And the day we also invite you to break the wall.
C'mon, you can doooo iiiiitttt. Leave a comment or two? Pretty please.

I would offer to dance a jig but picture a spastic giraffe wearing heels and you'll see that won't be a pretty picture.
I invite you to say something, anything: three words about yourself? ask me anything? tell me why you read here? share a link?
 You can even comment anonymously if it makes you feel more comfortable.

Please? Maybe?

You could.....just today or tomorrow? Then we never have to speak, ever again?
But we could.

If you have read here for more than five minutes then you know that I've turned into a total needy-attention-whore-basket.

If you never say a word, please take to heart my sincere thanks for being here.

Happy LOL Days one and all.

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

Over the Halt

(Love Our Lurkers Day is coming! Its that day or in this days where we cajole our silent readers to come out...come out and interact..details here. I  would love to hear from you all!!! *crosses fingers* and if you are new here, the About Us has been updated)

He had me held.
And withering.
And protesting.
He wasn't complaining about my protesting.
He likes the protest, sometimes. |
I like the "make me do it", more than I care to admit.

He had all my parts spread.
It kind of made the protests simmer down.
Funny how that happens, yes?

He forced me.
And said all the things to me
And took me there...almost there
Not completely, utterly there
But oh so close then

He spat into my holes.

You know how there are things that changes how the scene unfolds? That did it.
But it was mental---I had to mentally fight to accept that this was happening, that the bastard went and did this and I was kind of eeeked out by it.
He didn't care....if he noticed my subtle reaction...and I'm sure it was noticed.

He just continued on and had his way with me.

Walls, falling, will giving over. Me submitting when I don't want to....might be beginning to look like more of that surrendering thing.

All good.

Monday, 14 November 2016

The Ebb of Devotion

In one of the training modules I'm in right now, on occasion someone will ask a question of the group about something that happened in their life, usually its a conflict between spouses and have others chime in because developing empathetic, conflict resolution type skills is part of the deal. This is a large group and a real life, face to face thing.

I of course have never shared (because that's what I have you all for and really? What am I going to share? "my mate is being a world class ass and I am struggling with how to take it and be slave?" *snorts*) I mostly show up and listen.

One woman shared that her husband was driving home from being out of province for a few days. The rig he was driving hit something on the highway. It was raining heavily that evening. Her husband had a tow on the way but called her asked her to come and pick him up. For her to go out in the middle of the night, would mean she would have to bundle up her kiddos, one in arms, one just walking and drive two hours to get her husband.

She was wondering what to do.

The replies were overwhelmingly for her to stay home, with the kids and how it was unfair of her husband to ask her to go out in the middle of the night.

I sat there thinking.

Thinking if I would bundle everyone up in the middle of the night and go get my mate. Thinking that I would have, without question two years ago and my only concern would have been for how he was feeling and if he was okay.

He asked me to pass him the bread last night and I sighed.

I came to the conclusion, that I would absolutely go and get him in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night--but if I am honest, I wouldn't do it without a whole lot of complaining.

And I thought: How did that go? How did I loose that willingness that would make me drop everything for him and keep my mouth shut, to now where I struggle to full fill simple asks of him?


I always thought of service in kind of a devotional sense, because making sure his life was easier and I was supporting him in whatever ways he needed, was enough for me. It wasn't always fun or convenient but it was full filling. I wasn't driven by rewards or praise or what was in it for me, propping him up was enough, I found purpose and joy in that and in many ways, he gave me back what I gave him. He gave back by showing me that I was enough, by making me feel that being who I am was something valued and what I was doing was appreciated.

Its starting to come back, as we carve out more space and time for each other, it is starting to be there. Its an ongoing rearrangement, in progress kind of thing.

But as much as I am his, he is also mine. And you have to show up for yours. Whether its the middle of the night or whether its being there long after you wished you were already in bed.

For both situations, that's why coffee exists.

Thursday, 10 November 2016

Friday Fragments: Oh Resilience

Its a thing.
Its something that I felt I kind of lost last year in the pp fog.

It takes energy to spring back into shape.
It takes a certain kind of willpower to shove it all to the side and to grasp hold to that "fuck this shit" mentality.
And what trips me up every time, what takes me longer to get to a pile of nothingness to that fortification to get back into battle shape, where I can at least feel like joining the fray again, is making peace with where I am.

It sounds ridiculous. And new-agey. And more ridiculous.

But when a friend said to me recently, "You're still getting over the post-partum crap, your marriage is in a very bumpy phase, and everything in life is up in the air", I got it.
I might have been a little jarred. I might have felt a little teary eyed.
There is something about having your life, summed up tidily reflected back to you like that.
It was a kindness though, that summary saved me from my self. Twice.
Made me think, "Oh right. I don't have to join the fray. Or at least that fray."
I am where I am and that's okay.
I'm muddling through the days in a state of exhaustion.
Its not all bad, all the time.
Sometimes, its really bad, then I scrawl here about it all.
Then those are those wild, crazy, breathtaking moments.
Those moments that bring me back to me, those moments that show me this is why I am doing what I am doing and those moments are enough to get me through. Most of the time.
But making peace with where I am, lets my resilience rise up and claim me once more again.
Its kind of like this. But without the ninja moves.

Wishing you all a healthy dose of resilience, my friends.

Saturday, 5 November 2016

The Afters

We have been in the thick of it for several weeks, this new crisis.
I haven't written much about it because: Oh. Look. Another. Crisis.

And because my head might not be in the greatest place, I might still be struggling with the confines of my bonds but I am renewing my acceptance on those things as well. Working on it.

And it doesn't change anything for me. It makes life a little more uncomfortable, yes, but you know, I'm along for the ride, regardless.

I've been doing my utmost to be supportive.
To watch my words.
 To be really mindful of the weight on His shoulders on not add to it.

Not so easy. It should be.
But all of that takes a different focus than it once did.

So me hurting, the hurt I wrote about? Has nothing to do with the crisis.

It has to do with me struggling.
 It has to do with me not having the same tools, the same coping mechanisms.
I need to build new ones.

He hurt me.
But it takes two.
And maybe I had that one moment of letting it all get to me and maybe I pushed too far--not meaning too---and He did what He did.

But here's the thing: He can.
Its always been a double-standard.
I have no recourse to Him hurting me, other than He has to deal with the emotional fall-out.

But it doesn't move me to a different place.
I have to suck it up and let go and forgive Him and roll with it.

Him playing me hard, using me hard, didn't change where my head was.
Well, it didn't change the inner struggles, the conflict.
It did break through to more open communication.
It did remind me of my place.
It did make accepting these bonds easier, once more, so in that sense it did take the edge off.

But it didn't ease what I'm struggling with, because its really my struggle, my conflict.

He knew where my head was, when He played with me in that way.
He knew He would have to deal with the emotional fall-out--and there was a little bit.

If you are wondering: Nope don't recommend it.

He thought it was what I needed.
But this is the not-so-sexy of living a consensual-non-consent: If I was given a choice, I would have said, "no".

Play isn't a magic wand, but it can be a balm to the soul.
For us, it has always been the space where we hash it all out, the space we come together, the place He takes me and bends me and gets into my head, again and again and again and there, my resistance is gone.

So what do you do? How do you deal with your Domly one doing something that hurts you?

You learn to forgive.
You learn to let it go.
And if you're me, your acceptance grows of this being your reality.

Thursday, 3 November 2016

Like Being New...

                                                     The words?
                                                     Don't have them. 

He used me hard. He played with me hard. 
Its been ages and ages and ages.

But that drop? Its an actual thing.
Its kinda doing my head it a bit.

Wednesday, 2 November 2016

Raw and Beautiful

Taking a break from my blogging break because I was randomly scrolling through social media and was hit upside the head.
This is a bit touchy-feely for me but poignant at the same time.

I know many in this community, where this has not been your year, either. 
And the holidays are always hard to navigate in the midst of struggle.

So I wanted to pass this on because maybe it will reach someone who needs it.

"To anyone who may need a bit of help this year, whether that is financially, with a particular gift, with a meal, with a love note, with anything at all, and to those who may have a little extra to give...""

You know what made me check myself and prompt this post though? Reading the posts from people where the requests weren't ones that could be solved by monetary help but people asking for connection. People reaching out for support, encouragement, ease of their loneliness.

And then I realized, how much I have done that myself in the last couple of years and thank-god for this Blogging community because its been here where I have found those things I have needed.

Its not surprising to me though, that I have found those things here.
 Those of us who involve kink, M/s in our, lives, are practiced at risking vulnerability and are sensitive to respond when we see it. I'm probably not expressing what I mean, in the best words, but hoping my intent comes across.

This also made me reflect to where I am now and what I need, in terms of connections.
What I need for my own self and what I need for my own relationship. 

If I was feeling braver, I would let you know. 
But its hard to continually ask. 
Its hard to risk that vulnerability. 
Its hard to constantly be the initiator. 

Its hard to believe what I need is valid.
Even after all the practise I've had at it, this is hard.

"Connection in an isolating age"... may there be more of it.

Tuesday, 25 October 2016


You guys are killing me with kindness.
you are all way too kind.

My inbox is always open, but gods, I am not the person to talk to right now.
"How can I slave/handle/be/live a M/s dynamic?"
 I dunno. Don't.

That's my advice: Just don't do it.

I just don't have words right now.
I'm hurting too much.

I thought the hurting was over.
I thought we had come through it.
 I even thought we were weathering this latest storm calmly and rationally and...well together.

I was so very wrong.

We will call it a blogging break, then.

The words are there below the surface. I am trying to ignore that this place exists in part, because I don't want to erupt.

Because I am stupid. Evidence clearly shows.

 Just because I'm hurting doesn't mean I have to hurt back, at least not with an eruption of words that is on public display.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016


Lofty ideals.
Dreams are expensive.
And leaving security with nothing is not an attractive prospect.

Saturday, 8 October 2016

Grateful Moments

Hovel filled with activity today.
Cleaning, sorting, cooking, baking.

He pauses in the flurry, kisses my mouth hard.
"You get to go out and have fun while I slave away."
"Damn straight."
He cups my behind, nibbles my ear.
A moment, before domestic requirements call our attention away.

Moments that we are getting better at finding.

Its our Thanksgiving weekend. I really love this holiday.

The origins differ from the American version, it was a holiday created to celebrate the bountiful harvest, a designated day of thanksgiving (wiki scoop, if you are interested like that).
 I always felt it was in line with the season, and pretty secular in nature.

Reflecting, taking stock.

Grateful that despite all the turbulence, we have survived.

Monday, 3 October 2016

Fealty Attempt

He implemented a new ritual.
Once a week, would be kind of a catch up, where He would direct my attention to anything He thinks I have been slacking in or something He wants me to pay attention to or a new ask that He is making.

I would also add, "transgressions" but we don't have a punishment dynamic.

Maintenance, I believe many of you call it. And I get why so many of you have it.

Fealty Day, Horace termed it.

So all week, I had been looking forward to it, in an anticipating, apprehensive kind of way.
But you know what else happened?
 I did my best, to save all the stuff.  Not immediate stuff but much of the 'need to talk to you about this' stuff.
 Great! Been working on not blabbing to Him every thought that enters my head.

So Fealty Day rolls around.
He's tired.
I'm tired.
But we persisted because we know by now to take our chances whenever we can get them.

It was a smorgasbord.
Some kinkery fuckery happened in between my incessant chatter.
It was just that kind of mood, of neither one of us really being in a space to do anything intense or intentional play but we had a lot of fun and laughter.

"I like Fealty Day. I got so much off my chest!" I said.
He grumbled.
It was not what He had in mind.

Thursday, 29 September 2016

Friday Fragments: The Real of the Struggle

Pages and pages and pages and pages here, typed out in varying degrees of staccato.
Most are filled with my real: are filled with what has challenged me, what has ripped me apart, what has brought me down low, what has freed my soul.
Chapter and verse, on the screen, spelling out how this way probably isn't for you, but it sure as hell is for me.
Even if I lie to this screen and proclaim it isn't so, that its not true, even when I have longed to escape my bonds.
Post after post of how I struggle.
How I claw my way to who I am and away from it.
The struggle of putting a voice to my deepest, darkest needs.
The struggles I have had with the one who owns me.
And in that struggle, how I find time after time, that elusive thing that I can't name but know that I am not complete without it.

This is a big space, this virtual writing place.
I could read about flowers.
And the lovey-dovey.
I could read about the perfections.
But guess who I keep turning to read?
I contrast and compare and learn.
I want to soak in your struggle, because maybe I can absorb some of your pain.
I want to watch your brain as you share your words through this screen, pro and con the unfairness of the inequity that are your bonds.
Unique, but similar, oh so similar to my own.
I want to sooth your fears as you walk into those closed doors.
I want to cheer you on as you fling your own heart out.
I want to bandage your head when you hit against the wall...

Because I get you.

Tuesday, 27 September 2016

You Be You

There are a few Blogger friends I dearly miss.

Every time I read a post about "this is how we safely play therefore you should" tori comes to mind. Our dynamics are similar and she is such a gifted and eloquent writer that she could adequately explain her position or belief on a controversial subject without causing a traffic jam of mudslinging.

If you deem something safe, then its safe for you.
Please don't tell me that if I were to act differently in that situation it would be unsafe.

Our dynamic is consensual/non-consent.

He likes me physically in one piece, generally speaking.
Emotionally and mentally, He pushes those boundaries. More than I am comfortable with at times.
My comfort, doesn't matter. Not always a priority.

So if we are in a scene, and I do something that is disrespectful--even if its unintended--He's going to act how He damn well pleases. Even if its something that I have no control over.

The man has razed my ass for being sick, for goddess' sake.

Say, He orders me not to make a move as He beats on the soles of my feet.
And a truck backfires outside and I hear it through the open windows and I jump out of my skin-thereby moving.

Out of my control.
Still disobeyed.

Now Him citing that as disobedience isn't unsafe--its factual...(stretching my opinion).
Him choosing to pick up the rattan cane and striking my palms (fuckin ouch) for it, is still not being unsafe. Its Him being slightly cruel and Him being sadistic but not unsafe.

In reality, He is more likely to stop, just to make sure the stupid truck is done and regroup, for His mental state as much as mine and then take it out on me later, however He chooses.

If He felt like not stopping? Because it didn't interrupt His headspace? Still not unsafe.

If I was truly rattled? And I didn't tell him? Yeah, that might be me thinking I know best---and we could then question my sanity and the sane part of the equation in this instance.
Safe? Well, this man isn't going to harm me. He just isn't. Hurt me, ten thousand ways and then some, leave me mindfucked for days, cause me more broken hearts than I can count, but harm? Nope. Won't happen.

So safe for me and safe for you? Different worlds.

Monday, 26 September 2016

Long Roads

Everyone wants to be the sun
that lights up a life...
But I'd rather be a moon
where I can shine on
during the darkest hour
when the sun isn't around...~N.D.

Trudging along. 
Trying to hold steady.
Doing little more than only what He says.
Giving only what He asks.
And struggling to make my own peace.

Its a weird experiment, to try and carve out space for myself. 
He still is the centre of my universe.
But I am because its keeping me sane.
And I can't focus on the maelstorm or it will pull me in and drag me down.

So I am filling my own well, as fast as I can. 
And I am focusing on my own stuff. 
And I am trying to do that breathing thing. 
Because He needs me to do all of those things.
It doesn't mean I'm okay with any of it---just that I will do it because that's how it is. 

For Him, my lamp is bright. I just have to keep it from cutting so deep there is no repair.

Friday, 23 September 2016

Friday Fragments: Blurry Lines

It's not mine

My mantra this week.

We are in this together, but what happened didn;t happened to me.
Its not mine.
And I can't take it up into me.
My cells were just cleansed.

I can't take it on.
Its not mine.

So hard.
The lines blur, when you are one.
And as ugly as this year has been, that is still inescapable.

Anger. Rage. That feeling of not fair, a ragging injustice, all of those strong emotions....
I'm doing my best to let them pass me on by.

Not mine.
If I dip my toe in, then I loose my objectivity.
I loose my strength.
And he needs me at his back.

He didn;t ask me to fight this battle.
Not mine.
Me, dipping my toe into that emotional soup, would very quickly turn me against him.
Last place I need to me.

I'm focusing on what is mine.
My work.
Trying to do that writing thing.
The feeding and nurturing of those dependent on me.
Trying to keep my head-which is still not in the greatest place--on my shoulders.

Keeping those demons at bay.
Keeping that fear from swallowing me whole.

Its not mine.

Wednesday, 21 September 2016

This Life Thing....

For the past several weeks, we have been like this:

This weekend, it was like this:

And then, because Fate hates us, this happened:

And now, I'm trying to stay sane. And to keep my mouth shut.

I'm trying to remember to do this:

He needs to me to stay out of his way. He needs me to obey.

And I need shoulders to lean on. And I need him to do this:

I will strive to do that thing we do. Keep my own demons caged.

We need an hour or two. He needs to beat me. To show me.
 To reassure me. To claim me. To use me. 

Friday, 16 September 2016

Friday Fragments: Ho-Hum

Its been a normal day for me.
Kept to my routine and went on with life.

But it shouldn't.
There are things to do, like packing.

But I know that if I do that, it will drive my mate around the bend.
So I didn't.
Really wanted to but didn't.
He would just do it all over again--for all of us--- and then I would feel hurt and maybe even resentful that he didn't accept my 'help' or I made an investment in time and its for naught.

So I am left with all the non-fun things that need to be done before we hit the road for a few days.

Took me years to learn this.

Sometimes making his life easier, means keeping out of his way.

Tuesday, 13 September 2016

Scrawling Update

Still sick.

Funny how you can be immensely grateful but filled with dislike.
We haz new technology.
I am immensely grateful for it.
I dislike it intently.

Keep hitting new levels of exhaustion and I so, so want a prize. Seriously.

We are holding steady here.
Better communicating, better giving each other space.
I'm trying very hard not to blab every word that comes into my head at him.
 He's trying to be mindful that I need space and more quiet and more recharging.

He puts my collar on when we go out together.

It helps.

Not everything is fixed but sometimes less is more.

But He has never tried to sell me, like this

That made me howl.

And tingle just a little bit.

Tuesday, 6 September 2016

Walking in Circles

I'm out for a walk.
Feeling frustrated and angry and so so exhausted.

He abrubtly went out after dinner. It appeared he wasn't coming back in just afew minutes after just a few minutes had passed.

The hardest part of the day.
I'm fraying, I feel on my last nerve so I gathered up all matters of importance and went for a stroll.

Muggy night.
My throat is on fire.
I've been sick for a week.
No downtime.
No rest.
 Stuffs to do, people to look after.
I really want a break.

But its such a cruel thought a mantra that surfaces to tease me.
Not happening. Accept it.

He's had a long day too.
I know this.
His day has been pretty rough.
And I know what he isn't saying.

So add to exhausted, sick, frustrated, angry ...add scared.

And I hate feeling that out of control feeling.
As I walk, it occurred to me that the isolation from last year also meant a lost of support.
Support for this kind of relationship.
Even though I have known few who slave like me who M/s like we do ("you guys are so intense so strict" is commentary we got, "you two are so attuned to each other", oh how sweet that memory is) I still had access to people who understood or would at least be supportive in the maintaining and feeding of tthis...and it occurs to me how much I have taken my balls of emotion and thrown it at him, tangled balls that were about him and demand he fix it.

Not fair, I know.
Desperation is a force of its own.

A month ago we had that break through.
But it wasn't cemented.
And this is a record for how ong we have gone without physical intimacy.

I won't initiate.

He snapped the collar on my neck .
Took it off.
I wanted him to do it again but didn't ask. Threw a hissy fit.

Oh I know.
This side of the fence isn't as comfy.

I want him to take control.
Give me direction. Give me a list of things to do that is now considered the new version of service needed. Give me tangible things. Stop feeding the chaos.
Insitute a maintence night, make one new rule...oh my voice our voice in the words we have offered to others in times past.

I'm frustrated, angry, sick, exhausted, sacred and the out of my skin feeling of isolation.

My phone is on the fritz, the hard drive is still not functioning, Mercury Retrograde is kicking my ass.

Trauma is the monster thst mostly stays in the closet but changes everything. My head is still not on the greatest place...I can't process like I used to. And it sucks.

But I went for a walk.

Wednesday, 31 August 2016

hanging threads

My head is not in the greatest place.
And i wonder, isnt it his responsibility to fix that? 
But he can't   fix all the things.

if you know how i'm going to react and you take me there, how unfair it is to expect a different reaction.

My emotions are real. I think i deserve to be heard. You cant throw me into crisis mode then say, "Oh everything is fine now" i don't have switches to flip. I can't unfeel what I felt, or unthink what I did. I can't make all the words disappear. I am still there, kind of dangling. Hanging where you left me.

You can't demand, then don't follow through. Well you can because maybe all the words convince you of the reality you want to eschew but they are just words so meaningless they barely register in my ear.

Admit to what you can give me then do .
Tell me what you need but don't give me direction is leaving me hanging. Its not fair

Don't insist you are someone else that  you never where that doesn't get us very far.

You could have taken me. You could have taken control. But just leave me hanging...I have grown accustomed to dangling.

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

Because of course....

Dropping a note to say, sorry not to be responding to comments. I appreciate the words so much!

Experienced a hard drive death so that's kind of put a damper on blogging things.

In the old days "Ohmygods did we back up  all the work files?!"

Now, it went like this: "Are the pics backed up?!!!!!! Whew."
We don't care about anything else. Amazing, how the perceptions change, yes?

Hope to catch up with everyone soon


Friday, 19 August 2016

Friday Fragments: Feeling This A Swan

It wasn't bad.
 It was okay. It was pretty good. There were highs.
 It got better as the days came closer to the weekend.
 I hope this week was good for you, too.
Thank-you for the commiseration and reading, friends. 

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

Embracing the Exhausted Pigeon State, M/s Style

Sleep has been unpredictable and a bit of battleground this week. 
My day started at 4:48am.
Officially started at 6:00am when there was just no hope of staying in bed. 

He likes his mornings alone. 
He likes to have time in the morning or at least have space to rush and get out the door--maybe saying goodbye to us in the last moments.

So his style was cramped this morning.
I was one bleary-eyed grumpy mama bear who just wanted a full coffee pot. 
Oh and sleep. 

In my grumpy state, stuffs got to me.The state of the Hovel, the unfinishedness of it all, dear goddess how I miss clean-surfaces, the enormity of the day ahead.

Both of us shouted.
Both of us snapped at each other.

I felt a couple moments of resentment for the fact that he gets to go to work.
He picked up on that and said it aloud, made me smile.

He left. I got on with things.
He texted, hope my morning was improving.
I texted an apology for being a grumpy bear and life went on.

Earlier in the week, late at night.
Both of us tired, weary, empty.
He asked me to do something so ordinary and mundane.
I said no.
I noticed his irritation; me saying no is still something that isn't really a norm for us and this time I observed how it bothered him.
He helped me figure something out.
I dragged my sleep-deprived self up and grabbed a sponge and cleaner and started tidying way all the debris of the day from the counter, so I could get to it to clean it properly and did as he asked. 

It seems like nothing.
But its how I feel.
Its bits and pieces and windows opening here and there.
Its resistance starting to yield and soften.
Its the start of giving over, of making space in my head of letting him fill that space again.

Communication is so crucial in M/s. And there are two types of resistance  or miscommunication: The out and out in your face resistance of saying "no" and the resistance that doesn't seem like resistance and its the quieter resistance of not asking, of not being honest with what you need and want.

We had that long talk of needs and wants of asking and honesty and it propelled us into a better place.

I may not be snapping to his every request, but I'm not meeting them with hostility, either. 

And he is meeting me with more patience.
He knows I am one exhausted pigeon.
He is keeper of the coop after all and has held us together with sticks and tape and spit and gum and frayed threads.

It might be dysfunctional M/s but its starting to feel strangely functional.