Archive | September, 2011

In the Stillness

30 Sep

When i get too busy, i forget to be in touch with that internal stillness, that place inside myself where it’s very quiet and peaceful.  The busier it gets around me, the more i need that time and space.

When i realize i haven’t been doing it, it’s easy to get annoyed with myself and put some energy into fussing at myself for forgetting to do it.  Of course that’s not really so helpful.

It makes much more sense just to go ahead and find the quiet space and to try to remember to do it sooner next time.

Often, i used to do that fantasy of kneeling, waiting, and that would quiet my heart.

Now, i’m not waiting in the same way, so maybe it makes sense to find a new mental image of stillness.  And that’s what i was going to do in this post this morning…

Only ~ wait ~ no!  i’ve got to go do a jail run before i go to this workshop today… and i can’t find anything to wear… and i want to write Sir a note… and answer my sister’s email… and brush my teeth… and finish doing my hair… and i can’t decide – sandals or boots?  Or i could go way casual and do tennis shoes.  No not tennis shoes.  

Ok,  sandals, there’ll be plenty of time for boots.

So i need to quit writing this not-even-a-post post and go do something… anything.

Now instead of feeling quiet in my head, i’m all frazzled again…  yikes.

Ok.  Stop.  Stop now.


Comfort.  Dress for comfort today. The purple top and black leggings.  Yes.



i can do this.  Calmly, feeling peaceful inside.

Ok, yes.  Here we go…

“Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.”
~~ Buddha 

And five minutes of music helps…

Yep, Much Better

29 Sep

You know, i am all about words.  Not just on my blog, but in my job, in my relationships.  So somehow, i thought that Sir X and i would talk about the things going on with me.

At first, while Sir X and i were eating dinner, and chatting, i was thinking we were building up to some intense conversation.  

Quit laughing.

i had already told him some of what was going on with me, so he knew the outline of my angst.  And ~ you know, i work with a building full of therapists if i want to talk, not to mention my subsisters who are such a wonderful source of support.  So i just figured He’d be asking me questions and we’d go on from there.

When that didn’t happen right away, i thought about steering the conversation in that direction.   After all, wasn’t that what i needed?

But i stopped myself.  

If this is about submission, and it is, then maybe, i thought, maybe i will trust Him to lead tonight.

So i left the evening in His hands, and long, angst filled conversations were not on the agenda.

There was a collar, a more intricately designed one, with a ring in the front and the back.  As He puts it on me, i begin to slip into a different head space.

There are the cuffs, ankles and wrists.  i sit at His feet and offer my right wrist, left wrist, right ankle, left ankle.

My wrists fastened together with a metal clip, pulled above my head.


Face to the door, ass pushed out, as directed.


Hand, flogger, stingy rope, and belt.

And then…

Tonight, taken down and led to the couch.  Bent over the arm while He begins to explore with

{drum roll, please}

                       The Canes.


Only a few times with each one, but o, my.  

And afterwards, there was touch, pleasing and being pleased and…

….sigh.  It was lovely.  And just what i needed.

Thinking about it this morning, it makes perfect sense.

He took me out of my head, out of my ruminating misery, and grounded me in my body.  Brought me into the moment.

This might sound silly, but He didn’t tell me that i’m useful and do a good job at work and all kinds of things He could have said.  Instead, He showed me the connection between us, He held me with His hands, He held me with rope and leather.

And He used some of the languages of love.  

Touch, for sure.

Time spent and attention, o, yes.

And words of affirmation.  He talked about how i pleased Him.  The dinner i fixed him pleased Him..  My responses to His touch.  My submission to His directions.  My acceptance of  pain. 

i pleased Him.

Maybe only a submissive in the kind of angst i was in can really appreciate the beauty of that.

And the physical-ness of it ~ the concrete reality of it ~ pulls me away from my own abstract, in- my -head world.  

That may not be what i need always. 

And i think Sir X is a man who can do the words too.

But the ritual of it, the intensity of it, the immediacy ~ those are gifts He brought me last night.


So this morning?  Yep.  Much better, thanks.


A Little Frazzled

28 Sep

i’m a little frazzled today. Scattered.  i’ve started two other posts already this morning and discarded them for now. 

i’m back and forth from here to facebook to email and back again.

i’m out in the kitchen, getting tea and tidying the remnants of groceries i brought in last night ~ why do i not put everything away right away????  

Donna sent me a video yesterday, or maybe the day before, on sex slavery ~ not sex slavery in a good way.  i emailed her back that i couldn’t watch it right now, that i was avoiding it because i thought it would be too painful, and i’m always half traumatized anyhow.

Funny thing to write, i don’t usually think of myself that way, but right now it’s true.  Sometimes it seems like there is so much misery and suffering all around me anyhow and when things happen that turn it up a notch, i start getting overwhelmed and numb.

Numb feels better than in pain, but really it’s not.

But i told Donna i couldn’t watch it right now, and she emailed me back, 

Honey, just delete it. No pressure.

And i felt this huge sense of relief ~ which is funny, did i need her permission not to watch it?  


So thanks, Donna… {smiling}

Anyhow, i will share this here – and that’s funny, cause i wouldn’t share it other places, but here i am most open and honest.

Work is crushing me – daily, the pressure on me increases, and i’m walking a fine line between being honest with staff about what they need to be doing to keep their jobs and trying not to crush them, trying to help figure out ways to make it work, trying to support and guide and push all at the same time.

And sometimes i have to tell them things that are painful and that i don’t agree with, and watch them struggle with that too. 

And there are client decisions i have to make, not for individual clients but for whole groups of clients, that are difficult and painful and essential.

And i have some staff who i don’t supervise who are not being helpful, who, in fact, are hindering.

And we have a client who had a family member beat the crap out of her ~ black eyes, swollen to slits, her whole face puffy and bruised for days.  This family member then took an EPO (Emergency Protective Order) out on her.  

Now, they had no injuries.  None.  But charges have been dropped against that person, and my client is being charged with assault.

Her  lawyer didn’t show up when charges were being pressed against the person who beat her up, and the judge didn’t have her medical records, cause she gave them to the lawyer, and they dropped the charges against the family member.

And are pressing charges against her.  Her lawyer wants her to plead guilty.  To a felony.  It doesn’t even make sense, does it?

The talk at work is that the family member and the judge are drinking buddies. 

I am not making this up.

i saw her face.  I saw the police report ~ the other person was not injured in any way.

It makes my heart hurt so bad.

And – speaking of heart hurt – my stepdaughter is not speaking to me.  Not speaking to me to the point that she unfriended me on facebook.

Laughing… why the hell would that hurt so much?  That’s ridiculous.

But it makes me feel like crying every time i think about it.  i raised her.  She used to say i was the parent who was there for her.  And i was.

Now she’s not frigging speaking to me ~ without giving me any clue why.  

Thank goodness, i have time with Sir tonight.  

Never Enough Time

27 Sep

So i’m on call for my jail thing this week, and on the run even more than usual.  Didn’t get home until late, so i didn’t even respond to comments til this morning.  Which puts me behind schedule,

and i have an email from Sir X that i want to answer

                  and my housekeepers are coming today

                                         and a clothes bomb went off in my bedroom

and that’s not something i expect them to take care of

AND someone must have broken in the house and scattered papers all over the kitchen table because i was shocked when i walked in the house last night to see how messy it was!  

i’m sure i didn’t leave it like that…

Um, laughing…

And i have so much left to say about the Path of Service and Mastery, and no time.

But, i discovered Raven’s articles about it, which some of you all have probably already read, but here’s the direct links to that, if you’re interested.

AND i’m going to see Sir X again tomorrow night, unless the on-call thing gets in the way.

 Dinner at my house, and then i think it’s a “training” night, which makes me all squirmy.  Who knows what new experiences He has in store for me.

 Salad and sex ~ life doesn’t get any better than that!

Wanted to share this link that PL left in comments about my new nipple torture toy.  PL says:

“Amie.J, a Chinese transvestite I follow on Flickr, has a lovely photo of himself with something like this on his tongue. A pair of chopsticks tied to each other at the ends with elastic bands, to make a kind of clip.  Pull chopsticks apart, insert tongue between, release chopsticks to clip onto tongue.”

And yes, that’s exactly what Sir X has in mind for my poor nipples. 

Ok, i’m not saying much of anything worth reading here, so i better get moving. 

In the immortal words of Dale Evans Rogers:

“Happy trails to you, until we meet again.”


Back on the Path of Service and Mastery

26 Sep

i just have  a little bit more to go on  Raven’s class on BDSM and Spirituality, but it’s the part that speaks to me the most personally.  You remember, we talked about BDSM as a path through Pain and an Altered State of Consciousness, through Ritual Catharsis, and finally through the Path of Service and Mastery.

So Service means learning to obey and to give with a joyful heart, and Mastery means ruling from right motives.  Well, more or less, short form, right?

Raven goes on to talk about “right stewardship” which means the Master takes care of His or Her property.  Not just in the sense of not harming the slave, but helping the slave move toward self-actualizing.  Helping the slave work for his or her higher good.

Then He talks about two ways this can work ~ two styles of relationship.

One he calls yin-yang style.  In this style, the slave gives energy to the Master, who gives it back to the slave.  Likes a circle of connection,  the relationship feeds growth for Master and slave.  They are turned toward each other.

The other style, he calls “tree style.”  In this style, the slave is the roots who gives energy to the Master.  The Master puts the energy into the universe.

Now, this second style is going to have elements of yin-yang style in it too, because no slave can provide energy without getting some back.  But the thrust of this relationship is different. 

The thrust of the relationship is on bringing the Master’s dream to fruition.  Whatever that dream may be, whatever vision He or She has.

And i was immediately struck by that ~ by the rightness of that idea.  Truth to tell, i could barely listen for a little bit there, my mind was racing with thoughts of how this all fit together for me.  Like getting the last piece of the puzzle, and it all begins to click into place.

But ~ but ~ then i realize ~ Raven is still talking about the Master’s vision, and i’m thinking about my own vision.


Because, ya know, i’ve got a vision.  A fairly clear one.  And scattered though i am sometimes with my energies, i’m moving toward bringing the vision to life.

Slowly, and not in a linear way.  Sometimes i think i’m going in circles, other times i think i’m off track.  But then something happens ~ i meet someone, do something, think something ~ and suddenly realize that i need this ~ this whatever it was ~ to put in my plan.

So the not focused part ~ the wandering and gathering ~ sometimes gets me where i need to be.  Other times, it is not my friend.  i do waste time.  i don’t follow up on things that i need to do.  i neglect things i shouldn’t neglect.

This is where i was going with my “The Major” fantasy.  The Major was going to organize her life so that she could accomplish the things she needed to do.  He was just taking a lovely, long sexual way to get there.

And that fantasy is a great example of what i’m talking about.  i spent hours on it.  i was driven to write it, couldn’t get enough of it.  And then ~~

~~ as it became more clear in my head, it became less urgent.  Then i met Sir X, and now i can barely remember The Major.  Maybe i’ll try to finish it at some point, but i don’t have the need to right now.

Writing it was part of what i needed to do though ~ there were things i needed to learn from listening to myself as i was writing it.

When i signed up for C.O.P.E., my fantasy was that i’d “meet someone,” right?  Instead, i’d already met Sir X.  But i needed to be there for this workshop, for Raven’s workshop.

Unfortunately, all this is racing through my mind, and Raven is still talking about the Master’s vision, maybe how everything else is secondary to the vision, i don’t know.  Cause i’m having a little bitty panic attack.

i think ~ does it have to be the Master’s vision? What if the slave has a vision?  Could it be the slave that has the dream, with a Master who feeds her energy?

How’s that gonna work?  

Not THAT Nice

25 Sep

i’m a little concerned that i’ve given you the wrong impression of Sir.  He is “nice,” but not that nice.  

Last night, we had dinner and did some vanilla stuff, which was great.  He said He’s been thinking about me, and in fact, has made some toys just for me.

Sweet, right?

Yeah, they’re canes. 

Laughing… seriously.  

He was looking at the information on Kinky Kollege and saw a  lot of stuff about canes.  Did some research and discovered they aren’t always being made with natural material anymore. 

No, they’re often made with some kind of fiberglass.  Which He happens to have a closet full of, because that’s what He uses for His kites.


So He made some canes.  Just for me.  Here they are:



He has a super skinny one, and a little bit thicker one, then there are some bundled ones.  He’s particularly pleased with the one He put the wooden handle on.  “I think we’ll both really enjoy them,” He says, smiling sweetly.   

Last night, after we get back to my house, He tries each one out on me.  Just once with each one.

Then He says, “O, look at that!  Did i hit you that hard with it?  Whew, that’s a nice little whelp you’ve got there.”

Laughing… thank You, Sir.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, He says “I made another toy for you too, but you’re not nearly ready for this one.  You’ve got a long way to go.”

He pauses to gauge my reaction, which of course is “tell me, tell me, please.”

“Well,” He says.  “It’s for your nipples.  It’s a Japanese type thing, you see it with rope sometimes.  And they use bamboo.  But I thought the cane material would work just fine.”

i say, anxiously, “Yes????”

“And I think it will,” He goes on.  “What it is ~ you take two pieces of it, and tie them together in the middle,  then you do the same thing at the ends.”

He’s gesturing as He describes it, so i can picture it.  The two sticks held together in the middle, so something {guess what} can be placed between them on either side, and then the ends pulled together.

He used a straw, youall.  Cut a straw up to hold the two sticks together in the middle and then to close them off at each end.  Do you see what i’m talking about?

He says we can start out using them without closing the ends, but He wants to use the clamps a few more times first.

Good grief. 






What’s Wrong with me? ~ A Ridiculous Rant

24 Sep

No, nothing awful has happened.  Sir X hasn’t sprouted horns or anything.

It’s shaving.  This may be TMI for you ~ feel free to stop reading now.

But i don’t get it.  i shave with my battery operated razor til i don’t see any hair in my magnified mirror, or feel any.  All smooth and happy, i jump in the shower.

Soaped up down there ~ and guess what?  i can feel a zillion prickly hairs sticking straight up, stabbing me like a frigging five o’clock shadow.  Only it’s been 5 minutes.


So i use my no bumps bikini crap, and a brand new razor, and i shave again.  And again.

i must have some kind of Godzilla Gorilla hair, y’all.  It won’t frigging shave.  

It laughs at me.

i can’t go back to waxing.  That one woman i went to drove me off with her Tea Party ranting.  i don’t want to offend anybody, and i’m fine with you being a Tea Partier, but please don’t preach it to me while you’ve got me splayed out on the table and you’re ripping hair off my pussy.

The other woman i went to, did a crappy job and took forever.

And besides, it’s great while it lasts, but it doesn’t last long enough.  Not for someone i’ m going to see regularly.

And no, He hasn’t complained.  And even if it bothered Him, i don’t think He’d trade me in for a sub who could shave better.  

But really ~ what’s wrong with me?  Why can’t i do this right?  Other people do.

Y’all do.

It’s one of those things that makes me feel like a failure as a female.

Quit laughing.

One of my daughters ~ my older one ~ actually gently reproved me a while back for not having told her that women were supposed to shave their “privates.”  Really, she said that.

i was too stunned to say anything ~ well, my usual snarky, “Sheesh, one more reason i didn’t get “Mother of the Year.”  But i thought, well, damn, i wasn’t shaving back then.  You mean everyone else was???

And i don’t believe that for a moment.  Actually, i did shave a couple of times back then, but it wasn’t something my spouse cared about, so i didn’t do it anymore.

Anyhow, ok, that’s a long time ago.  Letting it go, letting it go…

What matters is now.

So, WTH?

Maybe it’s because i don’t have years of practice shaving my legs.  i epiladay, and i’ve been doing that for so long, i hardly have hair on my legs.  But i don’t think i can do that “there.” 

Looking for your collective wisdom and expertise… what do i need to do?  

You Were Right

24 Sep

i’m on the run this morning already, but just wanted to tell you all how glad i am that you insisted i talk to Sir about my dissociative skill.  He said you all were right, that he did think it was important.

Actually, he sent me an email that touched me so deeply, i can’t even tell you.  There wasn’t a single note of pity, not a single note of anxiety about what i’d told Him.  He just accepted the information, acknowledged that it was important.

He went on to talk about how He sees what we’re doing, and he used this analogy:

“We are still defining your “normal” limits.  In the future, exploring those established limits will be more of a challenge for us both.  It’s like tip-toeing quietly down a hallway (your submission)  and discovering where the doors are in the hallway.  then once we have mapped out the doors, we can go back and gently turn the knob and peek into each one to see what we find beyond the door, and if what we find is exciting to us both then perhaps we can step inside together and enjoy it more completely.  So now we are still mapping out the doors.  It is my job to map those doors being careful not to accidentally fling one open, and I have my limits as well, I will not allow doorways that take us to places we definitely don’t want to go.” 

Sin’s been talking about safewords, and started a whole blogger community conversation about safewords, which has been very cool.   And i started to say, “i don’t think i have a safeword. ” 

~~ but then i thought, maybe that’s not right, maybe He did tell me we were using the “yellow – red” system.   That’s the most common one, the one i’ve usually had.  i’ve only used it a few times.

But unless Sir X has a sudden complete personality change, like you might have with a severe brain injury, i can’t imagine needing it with Him.   If there were anyone i could choose not to have a safeword with, it would be Him.

i have to tell you all, i am ~ not “crazy about Him” in an excited, roller coaster kind of way. {i’m so glad He doesn’t read me, so i can talk about this here.}

This is not an “On-the-edge-of-my-chair cause He might be the One,” kind of thrill.

Instead, the more i see of Him, the more i see how He handles himself and His life, other people in His life, and me ~ especially how He handles me ~ the deeper my respect for Him.  

He is even handed and measured in His responses to things.  Deliberate.  He thinks before He acts.  {i have not always chosen men who do this ~ i know, hard to believe.}

He’s honest and genuine.

He can tell me “no” in the nicest way.  Without being uncomfortable about it or leaving me feeling like i shouldn’t have asked.

i can depend on Him.  If He says something, He remembers He said it, and He follows through on it.  He hasn’t done any of the sudden disappearing that Doms sometimes do.

Not that He’s always available.  Like when i was at C.O.P.E., he gave me some times i was supposed to text Him, and said “I might not always respond, but I want to hear from you.”  i don’t mind that as long as i know to expect it, and as long as it’s not all the time.

AND He thrills me, and turns me on, makes me smile, and keeps me wet….

He’s my mate, you all, my Sir, maybe my Master.  i know i said that before here, and i’m sure i’ll say it again.  

i belong to Him.

This Morning….

23 Sep

So this morning i drafted a long email to Sir telling him about the whole dissociation thing, which took up the time i would have spent blogging, but i’m glad i did it.

You may be wondering, well, why didn’t she tell Him face to face?

Well, as it turned out, it was hard enough to write it.  i was afraid i wouldn’t get up the nerve to tell Him if i waited.

Which is stupid, i know it’s stupid, and it pisses me off at myself, because i know that’s ridiculous… so i berate myself for feeling that way, and then berate myself more for berating myself, and then…  

That’s real helpful, right?  

Laughing… ok, not helpful at all.  Sheesh.

Letting it go now.  i’ve dropped it in His lap, and He can do whatever He wants with it.  

Feelings are just feelings, there’s nothing wrong with any of them, so if i feel foolish, that’s ok too.  Breathe… in and out, noticing the rise and fall of my chest…


i think i’ve mentioned that i have a sad little toy box, with my one blue vibrating dildo in it.  Sir was kind of surprised at that.  Soon, my little dildo will have a brother.

A big brother.

As we speak, this ~ this ~ um, toy?  is on its way to my house.  In a brown paper wrapper, no doubt.

So, here’s a picture of it.  The picture i could download has it completely unwrapped, which is even more frightening ~ um, exciting ~ than seeing it in the package.

The Hard Rammer

Yeah.  Yikes.  That’s what i said.

He says He has experience with this device and that ~~

                                   It’s not as BAD as it looks, but it is as GOOD as it looks ! 

We’ll see, right?

A Sir X Moment

22 Sep

You know, actually i was going to write more about the Path of Service and Mastery, but after i got to thinking about ‘Nilla’s comment, i realized i really do have more to say about my evening with Sir X.

i can see so clearly how the “training” is progressing, it’s not that i’m being deluded in any way.  Each time, the spanking is a little more intense.  

This time, each smack with His hand was fierce, leaving my ass red and throbbing before he got out the flogger.  

The flogger is gentle, well, comparatively.  But He uses it on more sensitive parts of my body, and tonight He put the clamps on first.  The c-clamps that He likes, with the chain between them.

They don’t hurt much, they really don’t.  But i feel them, there’s an awareness, and when He uses the flogger on top of them, well, i feel it.

And you know, i feel it more after they’re off, i feel them when i’m in the shower the next day.  And i know now that i’m going to feel them then, if that makes sense.

He just smiles when i tell Him that.  “Really?” He says, “You feel them the next day?  Your nipples are still sensitive in the morning?”

~~ and i laugh cause He’s sounding all innocent, like He had no idea, and looking totally knowing at the same time.  i don’t know how He does that. 

So the flogger is a lovely break, and then it’s the stringy thing, which is sharp and fierce and leaves marks.  Followed by the belt.

And i know it’s all more intense tonight, i can tell.  My ass is hotter, redder, and more tender when He’s through.  

But He goes slowly, i have time to absorb each blow.  This is good for me.  

If it’s too fast, too intense, i’ll dissociate, slip away in my head, so i can tolerate it.  And that might be ok, but afterwards, i’ll feel ~

~ i’ll feel off.  Wrong.  It won’t feel good, won’t feel right.   And i won’t have words for what’s wrong.  Won’t even quite know myself what the problem is.

i remember this from my husband, that was how it was towards the end.  It wasn’t good for me.

And i wonder if i should mention that to Sir X.  That too much pain makes me go away.  i think about it, play it out in my head. 

And then i think about the feelings, the way it is when he has me against the door, arms over my head, ass bare.  This time, He left the rope harness on for a long time while He was spanking me.

Left it on through the flogger and the stringy thing.  Took it off before the belt.  

i think about how He holds my nipple with one hand when He’s using the sharp, stringy thing on me.  

i think about how He asks me afterwards how i would rate that spanking, if i felt like it was too mild, that i needed more, or if it was moderate, or was it too harsh, was really pushing my limits.

It was moderate, i mean, i felt it, i didn’t think it was too mild.  But it wasn’t pushing my limits too much either.  Not too much.

And i don’t think i need to tell Him anything.

i think, compared to some of the experiences i read, i think He’s very gentle with me.  i think it might even sound like He’s too solicitous of me.  Asking my opinion, making sure i’m ok, all that.


If you were there ~ if you could see Him ~ you’d know that He really is training  me.  That feels so odd, to say that, and know it’s true.

Like you would train a horse who’d been treated badly before, gently, giving her rewards for doing what you wanted, but all the time shaping her behavior.

i’m learning to trust Him.  He’s learning my responses.  i don’t know exactly where He’s taking me.  But He does.  

i don’t think it’s ever going to be about how much He can hurt me.  But i think He wants control.  i think He wants obedience.

i think He’ll get whatever He wants.