Here She Is (Part I)

“Here she is,” He says.  

i look up, and my heart starts beating faster.  i stand up, as if i could run, realize that there’s no reason to panic, and sit back down.

He is watching me.

“Yes?” i say, and then, despite myself, i add, “Sir?”

He watches me with the cool, detached air that made me notice Him in the first place.  It was at the protest, the one that had reminded me of the ’70’s, with signs and singing – chants and a bullhorn and walking back and forth in front of the building.

He was a cop.

Is a cop.

The Major.

When the protest started to get ugly – not that we had done anything, we were the peaceful side – but the other side was threatening violence ~~

~~and the Major waded into the mess, and somehow calmed it all down, while i watched in awe~~ thinking, “Good grief, He’s hot.”

All He had to do was raise His hand and the crowd fell back.  Magical.

And now, here He is, days later, standing in front of my desk at my volunteer job.  

Saying, “Here she is.”

Yikes.

“You’re to come with us,” He says, and it’s only then that i notice the two women flanking Him.   They’re not in uniform, but neither is he, and i wonder if they’re cops too.  They don’t necessarily look like police officers, but then i probably have some ridiculously stereotypical idea of what cops look like.

My cop, The Major, looks like a cop.  Shaved head, muscular body.  Blue eyes that look right through me.  About my age, and tough, but like He doesn’t even try.  i’m lost looking at Him til He says, 

“Now.”

And i realize that he wants me to come with Him.  With them.

i stand up again, pulled to obey Him, wondering what i’m doing and why i’m not more afraid.  Sara, my coworker, comes up behind me.

“Leaving?” she says.

And i say, “Yes,” my eyes still on The Major.  “i’m done for now anyhow, i’ll be back next week.”

And as i step from behind the desk, barely hearing her “take care, see you then, call me” good-byes, the two women move so one is on each side of me.  

We follow The Major out of the building.

(to be continued)

Need

i think

that just because i need

i should get.

i think 

that the longing for

should lead to having.

This is not

a law of nature.

Omigosh, aren’t youall tired of listening to me ~ wishing, wanting, fantasy after fantasy…

i’m sick of listening to me.  

No need to project that onto youall,

      ~~  youall are patient with me.  

i am sick of it.

i feel it, deep in my body, the desire is so fierce.

Physical, yes.  A lust that runs through me like a wave, threatens to turn me upside down.

Emotional too.  

An ache that starts somewhere in my chest and radiates out, electrical,

pulsating through my arms and legs, throbbing between my legs.  

The physical desire driving the level higher~~

            ~~~ and higher

                            til i think i might implode.

Just collapse in on myself.

But really, more likely, i can just continue like this, day after day, as i get older and older, til i dry up and blow away.

O, wait – no – it doesn’t have to end like that!

Um, i don’t have to end like that.

There’s Bob.

Bob and his fancy fucksall!

He can save me from that fate worse than death…

Bob?  Hey, Bob.

We need to talk…

Showered, Shaved, and Spanked

“Come here,” He says.

Just out of the shower, my hair wrapped in a towel, another towel around my body, i am still damp.  i stand in front of Him.  Trying not to grin.

He looks me over, head to toe and back again.  “Open the towel,” He says.

i hold the towel open in the front, flashing Him.  But then i am standing there, still holding it open, exposing myself to His gaze.

The urge to laugh is fading, replaced by a heat between my legs.  He looks me up and down, dispassionately.  “Are you clean?” He says.

And of course i am, i just got out of the shower, but i feel a moment’s anxiety.  “Yes, Sir,” i say, and i hear the question in my voice as i say it.

“I see you shaved,” He says.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Come closer, I want to inspect you, let’s see if you did a good job,” He says.

Definitely anxious now, i move closer.  Shaving is not my strong suit – i know, i know, everyone else seems to do just fine with it.  i get red bumps and miss spots and feel ridiculous for not being better at it.

i am standing close to Him now, but He grabs me – grabs the lips of my pussy, and squeezing firmly, pulls me forward.  i am standing between His legs, my legs open, still holding the towel open in front of me.

“Lose the towel,” He says, but His attention is between my legs, pulling on my nether lips with one hand, the other hand caressing the top of my pussy.

i don’t know what to do with the towel – it’s wet, i don’t want to drop it on the floor.  i take it off  and let it hang over my arm.  “Yes, Sir.”

He’s frowning – i hate that – stroking the top of my pussy with  one hand, holding both lips with the other, firmly.  And frowning.

i’m off-balance, my pussy being pulled forward like this, and i feel awkward.

He glances up.  “Here,” He says.  “Give me that towel.  Lie down here at my feet, i want your legs spread and your put your feet up here on the chair.”

i’m not sure what He means, but i get the “lie down” part, so i do.  The floor is hard.  i put the pillow under my head so the towel on my hair won’t get the floor wet.  He pulls my legs up, knees bent, one on each side of Him.

This opens my pussy, brings it close enough for His inspection.

Fingers poke, probe, stroke.  i look away, embarrassed, but He notices.  “Watch me,” He says.

i focus on Him.

“Do you think you’ve done a good enough job here?” He asks.

“No, Sir,” i say, mortified.

“Why not?  Why did you stop before you’d done better?”  He’s waiting, i think He really wants an answer.

“Because, Sir,” and my voice is shaky, “i can’t do it right, i can’t do it well enough, if i go over the same place too many times, then i start breaking out, and you don’t like that either.”  My voice sounds thin and whiny to me, and i hate that.

i want to disappear, but He’s holding me here, my legs trapped, one on either side of Him, and even if they weren’t, i couldn’t just leave anyhow.

“What are you feeling?” He asks.  “Right now.  No censoring.”

Tears spill over, “i feel awful,” i say.  “Like i’ve failed You.  Like i’m a terrible person.”

“Well,” He sounds matter-of-fact, “That might be a little extreme.  We’re talking about shaving, not world peace.  But I appreciate the sentiments.”

He pauses, looking at me, all open in front of Him.  “Maybe this will help you feel better.”

And he has a ruler in his hand, a wide one, it’s some kind of flexible material, i don’t know what, but it make a nice ‘thwack’ as he taps it on His hand.

And a louder “thwack” as it lands on my pussy, making me gasp.  He is smiling.

“A little chastisement – this isn’t actually punishment, just a little discipline – always makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and as i say it, i realize that it’s true.

WHAP ~ the ruler lands again, and i settle myself to accepting whatever He has in store for me. 

Mundane Kink

i was thinking last night that my kink is woven into my life almost seamlessly.   Not really, of course, the seams are there and i’m still in the processing of stitching the pieces of my life together.  But it seemed almost seamless yesterday.

i talked to Sfp about our plans for her impending trip to Where-i-Live ~ she’ll be here Thursday. Thursday of this week ~ how cool is that???  We talked about vanilla things we’d do, and we talked about the munch and whether or not she’d want to bring fetish wear.

{BTW, Sfp, it doesn’t look like there will be a play party after the munches this weekend, so don’t worry about bringing the corset…}

We talked about how odd it will seem to call each other by our vanilla names.  That’s a seam, right?   But she knows both my names.  That carries some kind of power of intimacy. 

i went to the Sunday munch last night.  It’s a small munch, maybe 20 or 25 people.  i spent a lot of time talking with Ms. Constance and another woman, whose name i have no idea how to spell. She has just moved to Where-i-Live, and Ms. Constance and i were filling her in on local lore and restaurants to go to. 

You would not have known that we were into kink at all.

But the delightful people sitting across the table from me, who i also chatted with,  were telling me that for the first ten years they were married, they were mostly vanilla ~ with some spice ~ but no real connection with the lifestyle.  Now they know that they are both tops, and are polyamorous so they each have someone of their own to top.

Not a typical arrangement, at least not in the vanilla world, but think of the problems that could arise if you and your spouse are both tops.  And the problems it would solve if you each found someone to be a bottom for you.

Of course, i’m sure their arrangement generates its own issues, but that’s just life, right?   

 My point is that not very long ago, just having that conversation would have been a little mind-boggling for me. Now – it’s practically mundane.

Ten years ago, i still thought it was seriously warped that Story of O turned me on.

Five years ago, i was living out some private kink, but i was pretty isolated – and would have been completely isolated in that experience except for JM, the amazing analyst.  {Thank you, JM.}

A year ago, i was just at the very beginning of discovery about the world of public kink and the community here.  {Thank you, Sir D.}

And now,i feel like i own it.  

 

It’s mine, and i am theirs.  

Yes, i belong.

At the end of June last year, i’d had the blog for two months, and had gotten about 400 hits.   i was thrilled with that.  

Today, i’ll break 40,000.

How cool is that?

So no matter how much my stories might seem to be a roller coaster of emotions, an endless pursuit of the “right” relationship, it’s ok.   i think i’m right where i need to be, right now.

 

 

Settling In

So i’m settling back into being at home, beginning to feel like i might possibly get caught up on the things i’ve neglected.   Sfp will be here before i know it.  i keep having conversations in my head with her – “We could do this… or this…” only ~ since the conversation is only in my head, it just goes in circles.  

And really, we probably need to wait til she gets here before we make a bunch of plans.  

i’m getting some new furniture for my living room, and i’m a little worried.  Well, i’m excited about the furniture, but the chair and couch i have now, which are so well-suited for cock worship and spankings, are going to the basement.  i don’t think the furniture i have in mind will serve that purpose quite as well.

i used to have fantasies about being spanked bent over the arm of my chair, or the couch, long before i was actively involved in kink.  i knew they would be ideal for that. 

i remember getting up the nerve to tell my husband that i would like him to spank me there, that way.  The memory makes me smile, and makes me sad.  

He had his own chair, where i used to sit in his lap, but he took it with him of course when we split up.

My chair has lots of memories for me.  i’ve knelt in front of it so many times.  Been bent over the arm, just like in my fantasies. And now it’s in the “family room” in the basement.  

Sigh.

Of course, lots of people have dungeons or play equipment in the basement, so maybe we’ll just shift the venue  – well, if i ever play with anyone again.

Bob sent me an offer that’s hard to refuse.  You know, Bob is my friend who’s a Dom, who i went to the swingers party with.  

He sent me a message on fetlife, offering to relieve me of my state of  “only getting orgasms solo,” which is certainly considerate of him.  But he also showed me a picture that was pretty enticing.  i wanted to copy and post it here, but couldn’t figure out how to do it, so i’ll have to describe it.

Laid out in a visually appealing spread, i first notice the fucksall, with the lovely blue dildo.  Then the flogger, and the riding crop catch my eye.  Hmmmm.

Rope – 4 pieces of silky looking rope, another – is that another dildo?  O, my, yes, i think it is, and um, a row of clothespins.  More clothespins than any sub could need, ten of them, while i only have 2 nipples.  But it’s an eye-catching arrangement.  Hard to resist.

{Swallows hard}

And maybe i won’t.  Resist, that is.  Maybe i need a play partner for a while.

Thinking about it, i try to shift my image from dedicated sub to playmate.  i don’t know.  i do need to be touched.

i was IM’ing with someone last night who’s also local, who’s also looking for a play partner.  We agreed to  meet at some point soon, although the exact date and time hasn’t been determined.  But i think he mainly wants a third for him and his slave, who he sees monthly.

i don’t know.

i talked to someone else local through collarme  who, as it turns out, was someone i went out with back before my second marriage.  He was very into kink then, and i was at least on the fringes.   Neither of us had any idea about the other.

Where-i-Live is really very small sometimes.

But i’m trying to take the sagest advice of all of you  – to take my time, process things slowly, be kind to myself…

…and maybe let Bob test his new toy on me…    

 

Swept

i’ve been swept off my feet, which is a lovely feeling, and that floating, not quite touching the earth, is a lovely place to be.

Only, you know, i don’t have a solid footing, don’t have even one, much less both feet on the ground.  So i know, even while i’m floating happily, that i may come down with a slight thud.

There is a poem that starts:

“People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you figure out which one it is,
you will know what to do for each person.”

Many of youall are probably already familiar with the poem.  I’d heard the first line many times, and liked the sound of it, agreed with the sentiment.  But when i googled it this morning to see if it fit with what i was thinking, i found: 

When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty;
to provide you with guidance and support;
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.”

That seemed particularly apt at this point, since GW has sort of walked away from me.  Well, not sort of, more like totally.  Like he’s not returning IM’s or answering e-mails.

And that’s ok.  He was a bright light in my life for a brief time, and i’ll never forget him.  And i’m ok – really.

i’m sure he is too.  i hope he got something from our relationship.  In my best fantasy, he continues to write his blog about his experiences, and becomes a well-established and  beloved member of the blogging community.  

But that’s strictly my fantasy, and all i can do is send him my affection in friendship as we both move on.  i hope it turns out that i was his friend for a reason too.  

Sin, over at Finding My Submission wrote a wonderful piece on relationships. Doing TTWD isn’t easy, relationships aren’t easy, trying to find our way through this maze is downright difficult.

And i know it doesn’t make it easier that i have this blog.  It creates a level of public scrutiny that may be daunting.

i hesitate to tell people that i even have a blog – but then i feel uncomfortable talking about them behind their backs, so to speak.  It’s on my fetlife profile, and i’ve thought about taking it off, but for some probably warped reason, i don’t want to. 

i know i’m not the only one who struggles with this. But ~ in all honesty ~ i love my blog a lot.  It’s my chance to process my feelings, and get feedback.

i think that youall are, collectively, the world’s best therapist.  {With all due respect to JM, the amazing analyst.}  Your comments are almost always reflective and empathic listening.

Sfp was commenting on this a while back – if we write that something was wonderful, the comments tend to reflect on it being wonderful.  If we say something was awful and miserable, the comments talk about how awful it must have been.  That’s reflective listening.

Sometimes the commenter send hugs, or shares his or her experience that connects with the post.  That’s empathic listening.  

Those two listening skills and the validation they offer are the therapist’s most powerful interventions. In therapy, if i could do only one thing, i would validate the person’s feelings.  

And we do that for each other all the time. 

Just saying, “I get it.  I know how you feel.  I’m with you.”  We almost never tell the blogger he or she shouldn’t feel that way, that they’re wrong.  And why would we?  Each of us is entitled to our own feelings, our own experience of the universe.

That’s why Anon, who pops up on Sin’s blog from time to time, hits such an incredibly discordant note. She comes in shrieking that we’re wrong – all wrong!!  She’s like the anti-validater – the antithesis of everything we usually are for each other.

But, like any good therapist, we aren’t 100 percent approval and validating.  Sometimes the challenge slips into the comment – gently, kindly, usually a question, or a comment that the writer’s experience has been different.

Sometimes, for those of us who are friends by e-mail, the challenge may come privately.  A note that says, warmly and kindly, something like, “I’ve been thinking about your situation, and …”

Always, it’s broached with love, which makes it easy to hear the message.  And, having been simmering in the warm broth of validation, it’s a lot easier to accept a “But what about…?” 

Sometimes the challenge is in someone else’s blog – accidentally, or because our ideas bounce off each other.  Something i read can set me off a whole new path of ideas.

In any case, there are things i don’t put on the blog ~ lots of them, actually.  And i recognize that sometimes it complicates my relationships because of the blog, but i try to be respectful and open at the same time.

Anyhow.  

There are new adventures down the road.  No telling where i’m headed next.  But ~ there’s a small munch on Sunday i might go to.

 And Sfp will be here next week ~ woohoo!  

In September, i’m going to COPE.  

And in October, ‘Nilla’s coming to visit.

So life is good.  i go over those things in my head like a litany of pleasures to come. 

And ~ laughing ~ i can say, “Stay tuned for the new adventures of aisha…”

 

 

Spanked

“Come here,” He says.

It’s late.  i’m tired.  i don’t want to go there.  

But i do, and i hear myself say, “What???” in this snarky, whiny voice.

He raises an eyebrow.

“What, Sir?” i say, more respectfully, trying to make it sound like that was what i meant the first time.

He laughs.  “Nice save,” He says.  “Bend over the arm of the couch and lift your skirt,” He says. 

i don’t want to. i really, really don’t want to.

i was in the middle of reading a fetlife discussion.  i’m tired and cranky.  i don’t want to.

“But Sir,” i say, and i know that’s a bad idea, but i can’t help it, “But, Sir…” and i see His face.  Now i wish i hadn’t said anything.

“i’m sorry…” i start,

~~ but He is out of His chair, and has my hair clutched firmly in His hand.  Quickly, firmly, He moves me so i am bent over the arm of the couch.  

My feet don’t touch the ground.  My  face is pressed to the couch.

He raises my skirt.  i am not wearing panties.

One hand still in my hair, His other hand falls on my ass – hard.  

Again.

Again – over and over – His hand lands on my bare ass, as i begin to whimper.  Steadily, he whacks me.  

i begin to squirm.

It is not a nuanced spanking, the blows are rapid and they are all hard.  

i whimper.

There is no caressing inbetween the stinging rain of smacks on my ass, which is getting redder by the second.

i begin to cry.  Just a little bit, tears trickling down my face.

He continues, covering every inch of my ass, leaving no spot unmarked with the red warmth from His hand.

i’m squirming, trying to get away, i can’t help it, but with my feet off the floor and His hand in my hair, i’m stuck.

My chest heaves as i start to cry harder; i feel a tightness inside me loosen.  

A heaviness fades away.

i am still crying, still squirming, but  a barrier comes down.

My heart opens.  i slip into submission.

And the tears stop.  i had been sobbing, and now they’ve slowed to a trickle.  My ass is on fire, and i’m focused on His hand, which must also be burning, as hard as He’s spanking me, and still it falls steadily on my ass.

i slide into submission, and everything fades away except His hand and my ass.  As something shifts inside me, i am no longer squirming to escape.  

i sigh, and relax into the pain, allowing it to fill me, offering myself to it…

…offering myself to Him.

And He stops.  His stops as abruptly as He had started, and now my ass feels more exposed, red and hot and throbbing, raised up over the arm of the couch.

His hand still in my hair, He helps me stand.  Pulls my skirt off, leaving it pooled at my feet.

“Shirt,” He says, and i pull it off as quickly as i can.

Naked now, i shiver.

He tilts my head back so i’m looking directly into His face.  “What do you say?” He asks.

“Thank you, Sir,” i say, and i feel tears spill over again.  The “thank you” is coming from deep inside me, i mean it passionately.

He releases my hair then, goes back to His chair.  i am standing, bereft, until He says,

“Come show me.    Come please Me with your mouth.”

With great joy, i kneel before Him…

****************************************************

i don’t know.

i don’t know what i want.  

i don’t know what i need.

Maybe i’m just a fantasy writer.

Maybe i need to give myself some time.  Maybe i just need to take it slow, to be friends.  Maybe i’m not ready for a relationship.

Maybe i need to be spanked.  

i don’t know. 

 

 

And Scared

You know.  He was that supportive presence all the way home from Florida.  And he’s been there ever since, touching me with His words, his presence on webcam.  Talking to me, talking with me.

But that’s really only a few days.

So i’m scared, and i don’t think i can be a good submissive, and i don’t think i can do the things he wants me to do or give him the things he needs from me.

i’m scared of making a mistake.  Making the wrong decisions.

i’m scared of getting hurt.  

Scared of hurting him.

Tired.

And scared.

 

Tired

i’m too tired  to think.  Too tired to feel.

Sorry.  Yesterday was just a long, difficult day, and today promises more of the same.

i don’t feel submissive, maybe cause i don’t feel anything much.  That’s not helpful either.

i’ll be ok though.  You know, lots of resilience here.

 

Fun Things

i love it when i find things on facebook that fit here.  i thought you all might enjoy this – I laughed out loud.

And thought you might enjoy this picture i took, which i thought was kind of sexy:

Beyond that – well, you know – webcam, conversations, all of that is still going on with GW.

So let’s talk about punishment –

What do you think the role of punishment is in a D/s dynamic?

i think it’s symbolic.  i argued that at the discussion last Sunday, maybe too vehemently.  But the idea that punishment is what makes us not do something again seems ridiculous to me.

It doesn’t work that way with children – they don’t change behavior because they’ve been punished, why would it work that way with subs or slaves?   Or – if they do, it’s because they’re scared.  Which means they’re not invested in the behavior change, they just want to avoid punishment.

That’s not to say that punishment doesn’t serve a purpose.  i believe it sends a message, and i believe it should be a clear message.

Subs all know that if you have a good relationship, it is a punishment to know that you’ve disappointed your Dom, that you’ve let Him/Her down.   What happens after that is symbolic.

The punishment says, “You’ve let me down – don’t do it again!”  It may serve as a powerful reminder not to do it again because it affects emotional mind.

If you know rationally that you made a mistake and shouldn’t do it again, that’s one thing.  If you feel it – if emotional mind is engaged – if there’s the visceral feeling of having failed, of having not lived up to expectations – the lesson stands out.

The point of punishment is to engage emotional mind in the experience.  So instead of just knowing in your head that you don’t want to make a particular mistake again, you feel it through all of your being.  That is the most powerful form of learning.

So yes, if somebody beats you half to death, you’ll feel it.  {Although at some point, you’ll probably dissociate, which defeats the purpose too}   But it may be just as effective for them to say, “You’ve let me down.  Write an essay about what you did wrong.”  Or “Go to the corner and think about it.”  Or – possibly worst, “I’m not going talk to you for x amount of time.”

Extreme physical punishment – or any extreme – may be more likely to lead to emotional distancing, which can be counter productive.  It’s not the severity of the punishment that matters – it’s the symbolic severity  What’s important is that the sub gets the message on a deep emotional level.

Which leads me down some different metal paths – punishment also allows a sub to get closure on what was done wrong, to feel forgiven.  There is value in that, and that may be a topic worth exploring.

And – we teach children to obey is so that they will survive childhood and eventually be able to function independently.  With subs/slaves, that’s not really the goal.  So what is the point?  What is TTWD about on that level?

And – thinking symbolically – lots of the  “do this” things that Doms want are literally fairly pointless – they don’t serve a real purpose.  But symbolically, they’re very powerful.

So, just for example, if GW wanted me to use that red lipstick in the picture on my nipples – well, i guess that might serve an aesthetic purpose.  But there’s no real value to the activity.  No worthwhile function.

On the other hand, it might feel very submissive to obey a directive like that.  

And sexy.  

Know what i mean?