Month: January 2020

Sprinkles and landmines

My head is on your lap and your petting my hair. I asked you to. I’m feeling fragile after another rough night.

You don’t know what you want, or need. Just that I fit both columns.

It’s frustrating. It makes building anything other then being with you, keeping beside you near impossible.

“Do you even want me as a submissive?”

The question catches me by surprise. It’s  ridiculous to me. Is water wet?

Of course I do! I met you looking for a partner and a dynamic. BUT wanting something doesn’t make it happen. Maybe your needs and wants are different then what I can give. I am not a brutal mistress.

“I don’t know what I want and need, other then you.”

I want to scream at you that isn’t a good answer. There HAS to be more. But your petting my hair, and it’s soothing so I stay still and bite my tongue.

And then you call me little one. I swallow, because it feels like the air has been pulled from my lungs. I smirk in response to the title because combined with the hair pets it could almost feel like home.

Almost…

But I know you don’t know what you need or want. These “titles” are sprinkles to you. To me they are  landmines.

Mistress

Daddy

babygirl

Little one

Do you understand the power in them. From either side of the slash. Do you know how much they mean to someone who lives by them rather then simply desires them.

With two words, ones I’m sure you thought were sweet and comforting, you almost sent me in to little space. And I had to claw myself back to avoid the hurt of your confusion on your lack of self awareness.

Last night, through text, from another room, it was I’ll be your slave. Forget about N, forget about daddy. And I went in to hiding again.

Forget about N? The PERSON I’m TRYING to know. The one who laughs freely and surrounds himself with walls.

Forget daddy! The one I didn’t even know I wanted, in some shape. The one who licks my nose and tickles my feet and pets my hair.

But if it’s all a role, I would have been better to have never let the first “daddy” slip from my lips. Because I opened something I guess I couldn’t ever really close. It’s part of me I guess, in all my switchy messy glory.

But if it’s all just a role…

I wish I could turn it off! Just “be” what you want, but I not wired that way. And nor would I expect you to be. But I believed daddy was genuine.

Yet in slave mind? It’s all expendable, it can turn on and off when I ask for it. And it feels like a part of me just shrank back inside myself.

Is it ALL just a role?

I wish for me titles didn’t hold meaning, I wish I could drink from the power of “mistress” and be contented with that. But no, I need to have something palpable,

I wish I could pull out the daddy and control when and where, but being “little” doesn’t come with warnings. It’s in the middle of the night, or when I’m fragile, or scared, or in pain. And it’s also something I can’t do in half measure.

Neither of these “sides” are roles or enhancements or props for bedroom games.

They are ME. At my core.

I want you to find yours.

Love is a battlefield: working or walking

It’s said all the time. The first 6 months should be blissful, magical, you should be so high on NRE you don’t stop to think. But what happens when you do? What happens when there is conflict, differences, unexpected uncomfortable growth, hard questions.

I’ve been in many relationships. And out of all of then there was one where it was 6 months of easiness. It turned in to years with someone who was conflict avoidant, who let himself slip away, and in turn tried to make me in to something i was not.

When it was done I had his last name. We made two wonderful children. And we split, mostly, on stable footing. But we still split.

Every other relationship I’ve had has had short periods of NRE and then a lot of hard fucking work.

When I open up about it I’m often told it’s to soon for it to be this hard. It should be roses and rainbows right now! It’s only going to get worse.

I grew up taught if something doesn’t work the first time you adapt and keep trying. Perhaps that’s partially to blame for me doing so much “work” when the NRE fades. I also strongly believe nothing worth having comes easy. Bliss is ignorance in my mind. So perhaps this is also a culprit.

But I have to wonder if I’m flawed in my thinking. When is the saying “nothing worth having ever comes easy,” just a mantra we whisper in our mind to avoid the harsh reality.

Is love really enough? If both people choose it, can it flourish? Is being there and continuing to “fight” enough to actually secure the end goal?

Some days I don’t have the answers. Most days, if I’m being raw and vulnerable. And that’s me, to my core. Unapologetically open and honest. Asking the hard questions. Looking for answers many don’t seem to know how to answer.

Should it be “easy” in the early days? If it’s not, are you dooming yourself to stay and fight? Does the hill ever level out? What do you think?

Ask and receive

The request came earlier in the evening.

When I walk in the bedroom he is sitting in his leather skirt and thigh highs.

Somehow I find myself kneeling before him. Not from a place of submission though.

When he dresses like this it makes me feel even more dominant. I just want to rub my face against the leather of the skirt. Feel his hand pet my hair. Meet his gaze in the midst of this power dance we constantly spin in.

“All my other mistresses did it,” he says.

I could be offended by his words. I am NOT the others. I am me. But instead I remind myself the ones before me had him longer. Might have known him better. Seen more of his depth then I have been allowed yet. Suddenly the request could be a honour and I listen.

At first I laugh it off. Feeling out of my element as I often do when he asks for things. Things others who perhaps cared less or, those who were more brutal were better at dishing out. I feel to soft. Inadequate. Flawed in my tenderness when he aches for brutality. But I listen. I remind myself he wants this.

This time he will not get away with asking for something when in a frenzy and then backing out when the fog has cleared.

He protests but they are gentle resistances. If he were to put effort behind them, use a harsh tone of voice, this “forced obedience” would break and I would freeze. Seeking out his reassurances as I do his embrace every night.

I wonder if he knows this? Could he almost instinctually feel it? Does he keep his “resistance” light and half hearted on purpose?

Grabbing him by his hair I pull him behind me to the bathroom. There is no resistance and he obediently follows me. Still protesting.

I silence his words with a kiss as we enter the bathroom. “You asked for this,” I say. My hands touch the stubble on his cheeks.

He gets in the shower first and suddenly I feel out of my element again. I’ve never done this. How does one even go about doing this!

“So do you like, just get on your knees?” I say. I feel my dominance washing down the drain. Topping has never been my skill point.

But when his tongue starts lapping at my clit I forget my unease. The water on my skin combined with the image of him on his knees before me is pure bliss.

A moan slips from my mouth as I watch him lower himself further. My legs begin to shake.

I know I need to let go to give him what he wants. But I can’t. All I can feel is his tongue. He is making it impossible.

And then I realize. HE is making it impossible. Being a little fucking brat. When he asked for this. He is still trying to control the situation.

Through my moans caused by yet another orgasm from his fucking glorious tongue I gather my senses.

I aim to please.

And I let go.

I can hear him swallow. Lapping up my urine. I want to be grossed out but I’m moaning so loud and all I can see is stars. I don’t know how I’m still standing. I feel drunk with power.

When we get out of the shower I ride his face some more. When I cum more stars flare behind my eyes.

That night I drift off quickly and sleep deeply. Perhaps “force” isn’t such a hard line in the sand for me after all. Maybe I can control him.

When he wants me to, and when I feel like indulging his bedroom games.

The real power comes in baked goods. The ones he picked up for me today, because I asked. And he listened.

Another day

“Good morning meow,” he says.

I’m sitting on his lap in the rocking chair. It’s not often that he holds me like this and I’m on the edge of feeling little. But I’m not quite there.

“You said the wrong m word,” i croak. Both our voices are gravel from this cold.

“Good morning mistress,” I can hear how tired he is.

I smile. Every morning, this small thing makes me so happy.

Making my way over to the couch I sit down beside my baby. His head finds my lap and I pet his hair.

We exchange good mornings and slip in to the seamlessness that is us.

The boys talk video games as I drink my coffee.

Just another day in the life.

Where do we go from here: February writing challenge

This months writing challenge looks to be so much fun I’m starting it early! You can find it [here][https://fetlife.com/groups/182505/posts/15875411]

Basically they provide multiple beginning halves of a sentence, and we are instructed to finish the sentence with our predictive text options.

To keep things fun I’ll limit each sentence option to a paragraph or so.

Remember only the second half of the first sentence of each paragraph is done from predictive text. The rest is just my imagination.

1. The swell of desire was a balloon threatening to burst when she saw a woman who had a little girl in her head. Nothing turned her on more then lap snuggles and Ice cream!

2. They were bound hard against the wooden cross and then the first time they had to put a little pressure into their own place. Who knew that limbs could stretch like that.

3. They picked up the flogger and looked at all of the other people. It was the first time they had done impact in a public place. Around them the noise began to fall away.

4. The wax dropped onto their skin like a shower. It was a new sensation that held even more surprises as it began to once again solidify.

5. They knelt in their place where they belong in front of their house. Being a brat had been fun in theory. But it was cold outside with no clothes! What if the neighbours saw?

6. The stinging was intensifying after the last strike when he cut the dress. Things were definitely getting charged. The air hummed with promise.

7. Footsteps sound nearby but the darkness of the blindfold is absolute crap. It was hard to pretend to be timid when the thing was practically transparent!

8. I slipped my hand around it squeezing tightly until you hit me. Submissive my ass, I think briefly as I softly laugh.

9. That sent, driving me wild, hangs heavy in the air leading me to the bed. You are waiting for me, lavender candles casting a soft glow on your face.

10. I never thought I would agree to this but here I am now going on a date with my mom for a little bit of coffee and then going home. I wonder what she will think when my boy welcomes me home in his thigh highs? Something has to make this night exciting!

Well that was a laugh! I hope to see some of your own answers in the comments!

The power in preemptive service

It’s been a lazy Sunday around here. We watched our show, had a lovely breakfast cooked by my boy, and I lounged up in the bedroom while he played his game.

I’m not feeling great so I even slipped away for a nap in the midst of his gaming.

When the kids came home after a little snuggles I went up to put missy to bed. After reading her her book I cane back down to find my boy making the kids lunches.

This is preemptive service and I’ve noticed a increase in it lately. Perhaps that difficult night really did put things in perspective for him. Perhaps something I finally said hit home. Whatever it is, the change in him is refreshing.

Omission: a bitter little pill

Omission is a sneaky little thing. Sitting on the fence between honesty and dishonesty.

I was going to tell you

I didn’t think you would mind

Nothing happened

It was my 19th birthday when I called up the guy I had been seeing, while we had been going through some rough spots I thought, foolishly we were still exclusive to one another.

Up until another woman answered his phone.

A few years before that the guy I was seeing had went away to a summer camp. This time it was the girl who reached out to me and informed me of all the things the two of them had gotten up to.

Polly is a difficult dance. Leaving me open for these little indiscretions in ways that make me unsteady and uneasy.

I would have told you if it led to anything.

It might not.

Who knows.

Yet the build is a slow one. One kept behind the scenes until it’s not. And then suddenly it’s there. And your left wondering if you missed signs.

Was this why he was distant this day?

Was this why he was “busy”

How long has this “behind the scenes building” been going on?

Open communication is vital. A two way street that doesn’t cut corners or leave things out, I bump my personal adds and the profiles are enough to turn me away, so I don’t speak of every reply. But the moment conversation becomes established, I share. Because who knows what could happen? And no one wants to be blindsided. 

Purple

It’s like coming back to myself.

I purchased a new outfit yesterday. Purple. Because like they say in  apocalypse AHS it’s the colour of royalty. And after feeling so low the past few weeks it’s time to step back up to my spot of ruler. Of my home. Of my life. Of my mind. Of my body. Of my emotions. Of those who choose to give me power.

I went to shadows last night and had my ass smacked for over a hour. My skin broke, but I didn’t. While my body lifted from the pain I felt I was floating.

I heard his voice. Hers as well. Both ones I wish I could change things with. But when things are done, we can’t change them no matter how much we wish we could.

This morning I woke up sore but with a renewed type of energy. Perhaps it’s the let up in the rain. Perhaps it’s the renewed faith in myself I have only myself to thank for finding. It’s not to say my lovers don’t help. But I’ve spoken about leading horses to water. I’m as stubborn as they come, with a strong will as well. Only I can make myself believe I’m worthy.

We watched tv. Shows I wanted to watch. And in doing so my boy is now interested in earlier seasons, more quality time for us. But if it were just that I wouldn’t be happy. I would go stir crazy. I want more.

So I asked for it. Not a form concept but a difficult one for me. I can speak of power and dominance and confidence forever but these traits won’t undo feelings of asking for “to much” or feeling like a “burden.” But I’m trying, to be more “selfish” with my asking. I think the morality problem happens when you EXPECT compliance.

We ended up going out to a little caffe. We enjoyed some cake and smoothies, and then did our grocery shopping for the week. I feel like I’m back on my feet today. I hope my perceived radiance of myself is noticed by the ones I love. If not, it’s detectable to me and that’s enough to recognize that I’ve once again made it through the darkness.