Archive | February, 2012

“Submissive” – the poem by Lauren Zuniga

19 Feb

You may have already seen this on Sfp’s blog – if you have, that’s all good, if not, watch it.  Tell me what you think.

 
 
i thought it was so beautiful, it made me cry.  Not a lot, not sobbing,  just tears filling my eyes, slipping over the edge.  Just one or two ittle teardrops running down my cheek.
 
 
Sfp has another one posted that is by Ms. Zuniga and also beautiful, but you’ll have to go to her blog to watch it.  Here.
 
 
Thanks, Sfp.
 
 

i can’t

19 Feb

i can’t post today.  Not for real.  

i want to.  But the morning is slipping away, and honestly, my heart is heavy with the latest assaults on women as people worthy of respect and care.

The vaginal ultrasound bill that may actually pass in Virginia makes me sick at my stomach, makes me want to cry.  If you haven’t heard about it, and if you want to know more, read here 

I need to go post on my vanilla blog.

“Unless one lives and loves in the trenches, it is difficult to remember that the war against dehumanization is ceaseless.”
― Audre Lorde

i’ll be back ~ maybe later today, tomorrow for sure.  Maybe i need to do some fantasies here so this becomes my place of escape again.

But right now, my heart aches, and i need to take what steps i can to push back.

Wandering Thoughts

18 Feb

Just for the record.

When i talk about my fear of being “left” by Him, it is purely emotional.  My mind ~ my rational mind ~ knows that’s ridiculous, on many levels.  

It’s ridiculous because of course He’s not going to leave because i want Him to spank and fuck me, or because i’m brazen enough to ask Him for it.

It’s ridiculous because if He did leave because of that, of course He wouldn’t be worth shedding tears over.

It’s ridiculous because i’m perfectly capable of surviving on my own.  i’ve been divorced from my first husband about 15 years, and lived alone for nine or ten of those years.  

Here’s the thing.  If i dismiss my emotional mind ~ laugh at it, write if off as silly ~ it doesn’t go away.  It gets quiet, but it’s still there, lying in wait to trip me up when i least expect it.

If i don’t honor that part of myself, that part of my experience, then i am more likely to end up reacting from that frame of mind.  Without thinking about it, without realizing what i’m doing, just acting from that emotional space.

You know, it’s really the 9 year old, still alive inside me, who didn’t want her Daddy to leave.

So when she pops her head out, i can be mean to her, and tell her to shut up and go away, that she’s stupid and ridiculous.  Or i can say hi, give her a hug and listen to her .  

Most of the time, i can listen and reassure her.

But every once in a while, she’s noticed something i wasn’t paying attention to.  Some red flag that i need to notice.  At those times, i need to listen and thank her!

But it occurred to me that my last post maybe made it sound like i really am that insecure all over, which is totally not the case, so i thought i’d clarify.  Maybe too psychological for these pages, but there it is.

On a whole different note, i’ve been looking at quotes by African-American women and discovered a writer (you know, new to me) named Audre Lorde.    Some of her quotes resonated with me and seemed to fit with BDSM in some way.  

For example:

“Pain is important: how we evade it, how we succumb to it, how we deal with it, how we transcend it.” 

And then:

“My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words to fit a world in which we all believed, bridging our differences.” 

And even though she’s not talking about kink at all there, it makes me think of how many of us spent years not talking about what we wanted and needed, not acknowledging our submission – or our dominance.  

It makes me think about the community we’ve formed, here on-line.  A safe space to speak our truths, to explore them with each other.

Smiling…  i love youall.

Asking

17 Feb

Yesterday, Faithful had encouraging words for me about my reluctance to ask for what i want.  She noted:

“As my Mother says…… the worst that could happen is the person could say “NO”.”

And that made me laugh.  My mother used to say that too.  i didn’t believe it when she said it either.

My mother was a tremendously strong and wonderful woman who had survived all kinds of hardships and built a good life for herself.  And i’m fortunate that she passed on so much of that strength.  But she was wrong about this one.

If i ask for something, the worst that can happen is not that the person says “no.”  The worst that can happen is ~~

~ they think i’m weak, needy, and helpless.

~ they think i’m stupid and incompetent.

~ they think i’m too demanding, too clinging, too pathetic.

~ they think all of the above.

The worst that can happen is they don’t want me anymore.  They decide i’ve asked for too much.  They recognize that  i want more than they want to give.

They leave.

THAT’S the worst that can happen.  And then it will be my fault because i drove them away.  Because i asked too much.

Ok, ok, ok.  Yes, i know that’s not rational.  i totally know that.  

It is all in my head.  Well, mostly in my head.

i know that this is the residue of childhood issues with my father.  You don’t have to be Freud or Jung to figure that out ~ you don’t even have to be JM, the amazing analyst.

In my head, i know it’s not reasonable.  My dad left because of who he was.  He didn’t actually leave because i needed him.

My mother taught me to rely on myself because that was the lesson her life had taught her.  And it wasn’t a bad lesson.  For sure, for the most part, it’s worked well for me too.

But it makes it damn hard to ask.

In the comments yesterday, Jade said:

“i think that asking for what you truly need in life is very vulnerable……and very brave.”

Thanks for those words ~ i know that’s true for me.  

All that conversation that goes on sometimes about the benefits of BDSM and TTWD ~ for me, this is where it ends up.

When i ask my Sir for something ~ whether it’s more attention, a spanking, or whatever ~ it does make me feel very vulnerable.  In fact, it stirs up those darn childhood feelings of hope and anxiety.

It opens an old wound.

When my Sir comes back, as He did, with a response that reassures me it was ok to ask, the scared, holding my breath recedes, and hope grows, and some healing of that old wound happens.

i don’t think He necessarily has to agree to what i’ve asked for. i think it’s sufficient that He lets me know it’s ok to ask.  That He clearly doesn’t think i’m  weak, needy, helpless, stupid, incompetent, demanding, clinging, or pathetic.

That He won’t leave because i asked.  Because THAT would be the worst that could happen.

The Day After

16 Feb

i’m still marveling at all the support there was for Bloggers United for Reproductive Choice, and grateful to Sfp for getting that ball rolling.  i read the comments and was amazed and grateful.  

i think it also kept those feel-good endorphins going in me, so i wasn’t bothered by any morning after let down from my Valentines Day adventures with Sir.

i took the chicken way out and “asked” for what i wanted by sending Him the link to my blog post.  i was a little anxious about that too ~ would He mind that i was using the blog to talk about my hesitation to ask Him directly?  Would He mind that i just linked to the post instead of asking?

But i didn’t have to wonder too long, he emailed back pretty quickly, advising me that He’d be at my house at 7, i should “wear buttons, no need for pants, and warm the house in preparation for being naked.”

i could do that.  🙂

When He arrives, i’m appropriately half-dressed, running around lighting candles.  

We hold each other for a long time.

i gave Him the Valentine Day present i’d gotten Him – a book of some stories by Kurt Vonnegut which hadn’t been published before.   He loved it.   Really loved it.  So that was way cool.

And then He begins.  

He spanks me, and

                plays with me,

                               fists a hand in my hair and makes me kneel.

He spanks me some more… turns me over his knee, playing my ass like it’s a drum.  i laugh and the laughter turns to squeals and whimpers and moans.

Sigh…

It was lovely.  

There were orgasms to our hearts’ content, mine and His, and it was a lovely, lovely night.

{i had more to say, but i accidentally hit publish, instead of preview.  For once it didn’t give me a chance to correct misspelled words ~ apparently there weren’t any!  So maybe this is where it needs to stop…} 

Blogging for Reproductive Choice

15 Feb

I’m an activist.

In my “real” life, my vanilla life ~ I’m a feminist, and an activist.

You may have already figured that out.

But that’s not what i’m usually about on these pages.  i don’t think there’s a conflict between submission and feminism and activism.  But it’s not usually what i’m about here.

Today, it is.

i’ve been involved in actively supporting access to reproductive choice for over two years.  My volunteer gig that i talk about on Saturday morning?  i escort at the abortion clinic in Where-i-Live.

 i walk with women who are patients at the clinic and their companions past the gauntlet of pray-ers, preachers, and chasers ~ often 50-100 protesters, sometimes more ~ who yell at the women, harass them, and try to stop them from exercising their right to choose.  i can’t protect the women or shield them.  i just walk with them.  Accompany them on this little piece of their life journey.

It has been a life-altering experience for me.

i have become more aware than most people of how the religious right is pushing on our reproductive rights.  The laws that are introduced over and over seeking to limit access to abortion in every possible way.  Some of them have passed in some states, others are yearly battle grounds.

Waiting periods.  Face-to-face counseling 24 hours ahead of time.  So if you don’t live in the city where the clinic is, you have to travel twice, or find overnight housing.

Mandatory descriptions of the ultrasound ~ scripted for the doctor or technician, some of which script is not even medically accurate.

TRAP laws {Targeted Regulation of Abortion Providers} ~ special regulations that apply only to abortion clinics that make it more difficult to be in compliance ~ like how wide a doorway has to be, how high a sink has to stand.  Things that don’t actually impact safety and aren’t medically necessary, rules that are designed to prevent compliance.

Threats to providers physical safety.  The murder of abortion doctors.  Threats to staff, to escorts.  A politician who recently called out for public hangings ~ of murderers, thieves, and abortion doctors.  Laws that have been introduced, but not passed (yet) allowing for a “justifiable homicide” defense if you kill an abortion provider.  

Personhood laws, not yet passed, that would give a fertilized egg the same rights as a live person.  That would mean no stem-cell research.  That would mean even a fallopian tubal pregnancy couldn’t be terminated.   It could mean that any miscarriage would call for an investigation.  The woman would need to prove it happened naturally and wasn’t induced or through her own fault.

Knowing that there are people who consider themselves good Christians working to make all this reality has changed my view of the world.  And that was worrisome enough.

But now ~ have you noticed?  They’re going for birth control.

The same people i see screaming on the sidewalk every Saturday, and a bunch of politicians, are aiming at birth control.  Is that what we want?

Because i’m here to tell you, these folks are scary.  They see life through a very narrow tunnel.  You either do things their way, or you’re doing it the wrong way.  Well, in their minds.  And they think they have the right to force you to do it their way.

Politically, they are gaining tremendous power.  Be aware of that.

If you’re against abortion, that’s fine.  Don’t have one.  If you’re against birth control, that’s fine too.  Don’t use it.  I’m not here to change your mind.  

But if we don’t speak out, all of us who have benefitted from access to birth control, all of us who believe in the right to choose, they will chip away at all reproductive rights.   We’ll be back to using coca-cola douches for birth control and coat hangers for abortions.

If you don’t want to go back, speak up.

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

If you want access to more information,  feel free to ask in the comments, or email me at aisha.hisservant@gmail.com

 

Happy Valentine’s Day

14 Feb

“The minute I heard my first love story, 
I started looking for you, not knowing 
how blind that was. 
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. 
They’re in each other all along.” 
― RumiThe Illuminated Rumi

I woke in the middle of the night last night and discovered my Sir had already sent me a link to the story He’d written about the legend He created for me.  It’s a delightful story, with a surprise ending that made me laugh.  A wonderful gift.

i love it.

Tonight we’re doing something ~ i don’t know what.  i’m awaiting instructions.  🙂

i’m in need of a firm hand tonight.   i feel myself at loose ends within myself, if that makes any sense, longing for Him to use me hard.

i want to be taken, swept out of myself, lost in Him.  Spanked and pinched and probed…

i think maybe i need to tell Him that.  He can’t read my mind, right?

i’m afraid to – afraid He’ll be annoyed, afraid He won’t feel like it ~ He’s working so much ~ and you know…

you know how i am…

i hate to ask.  Hate to ask.  Hate to ask.

Yeah.

Afraid He’ll say no.  Afraid He’ll resent being asked.  Afraid…

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” 

― Rumi

Sigh.

Hope your Valentines’s Day is full of candy and flowers and not another frigging opportunity for growth…  laughing…

“If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?” 
― Rumi

Damn Rumi.

Happy Valentines Day!

Valentine’s Day

13 Feb

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.

i am not a big fan of Valentine’s Day.  It’s a frigging Hallmark holiday, created {IMO} to sell cards and candy and flowers, with jacked up prices on flowers that are ridiculous.

And yet, it’s one of those holidays {like Mother’s Day} that if you ignore it, you feel bad.

When i was married we had little traditions we developed quickly so  we didn’t have to get too creative.   My first husband did flowers, which i do like a lot.  i did candy, which He loved, and we went out to dinner.  

My second husband always gave me some piece of jewelry with a heart in the design.  i’d give him a little series of small gifts of things he liked ~ candy, a book, tickets to a show, whatever.  

When i’m not in a relationship, i give my friends and family little candies or cards and try to content myself with that.  {Well, i do that some when i’m a relationship too, but it’s not the whole focus, right?}

If i’m in a new relationship, that’s the trickiest.  You don’t know what to expect, or what to give, or anything.  i kind of hate it.

Sheesh.

So i got Sir a book ~ don’t tell HIm ~ it’s some previously unpublished stories by His favorite author, and i’m hoping He hasn’t already read it.  i’m hoping to come up with something else creative before tomorrow, but am not sure that’s going to happen.  i couldn’t find a card i liked so i’ll have to make one.  

My Sir is a Master of different and unique gifts.  They are often symbolic gifts rather than hands on material things, which i think will make life more interesting.

So for Valentine’s Day, He’s created a myth for me.  A legend.  And written a story about it.

The myth involves a karada, the japanese rope dress,

and a Dom on a quest ~ a little bit like Cinderella ~ but He seeks the one who fits the karada.  So He sends His man out to all the villages, looking for the submissive woman it fits… and all the women line up to try it on…

Sir’s giving me the story, which He’s already written, but the story is not the gift.  The legend that the story’s based on, the legend He created for me, is the gift.

How could i not love this man?

Humming

12 Feb

My body is humming.

i woke up sooo late (for me) and lay in bed, just feeling my body, humming with energy.   

Yesterday, i was so lucky.  i did not get called out to jail at all.

i came home from breakfast, took a quick nap, and started cleaning house ~ laundry and such.  

Exercised.

Wrote a couple of posts for a vanilla blog i write for, getting ahead of the game a little.

Read a little.

Started getting ready for my evening with Sir.

Made sure the kitchen looked nice and welcoming ~ got all the crap {books, junk mail, an empty grocery bag} off the kitchen table.  

Showered.

But first ~ for those of you who have supported and sympathized with me through my whole “shaving is hell” experiences ~ i have just one word.

Epilady.

Yes.

It’s taking a while to be able to use it effectively, but it is totally going to work.  This is very exciting.

So i spent some time with that little tool.  

Took my time rubbing in lotion all over.

Towel-dried my hair.   

Lit scented candles in the living room.  Made sure everything was straight and welcoming.

Prepped dinner, set the table,   Started simmering some crock pot vegetable soup i made a couple of days ago, fixed some salad, which He likes a lot.

Made coffee.

He was running late, which was ok.  He’s been working so much, and it looks like it’s going to continue for another 6 or 8 weeks.  i was just glad He was able to stop and come over.  And glad that He wasn’t rushing either.

i had plenty of time to do my hair, get dressed.

Tight black jeans, my new shirt with buttons.  

By the time He texted that He was on the road, the house was ready, and i could concentrate on relaxing, being open and ready  myself.  

i put on my new boots, which i knew would make me almost as tall as He is.  Not quite, but close.

When i heard His car, i was at the door, and He was in.

My arms wrapped around Him, holding on like i would keep Him there forever.

His hands caressing me, rubbing my ass, my back.  His mouth on mine.  His hands in my hair.

Sweet, sweet moments. 

Then He let me serve Him.

Dinner first, and conversation, trading stories of our day, our week, our lives.

After, the table cleared, talking and touching as we finish coffee.  We split a red pear, sliced in quarters, for dessert.  

i want to touch Him.  

My fingertips, my palms, tingle, longing to caress.

So i do.

We move to the bedroom, and i touch, stroke, and caress to my heart’s content.

From His head to His toes, as i touch, rub, and massage, i feel the energy between us building and growing.  

i feel my own body’s sensuality building, my awareness of my breasts, nipples hardened, the wetness between my thighs.  i feel ~

~~ how can i describe it?

i press my face, my cheek to His chest, to His thigh.

It is electrical.

i trail kisses up His inner thigh, licking lightly.  The energy between us grows and builds. i think if it were dark, there would be lights shining between us.

Until at last, overwhelmed with the heat and the desire, i ask ~

~ permission granted ~

i climb astride Him, and ride Him to the end.

Sated, drained, we cuddle, snoozing, content.

i wake this morning, my body humming, palms tingling, heart open.  

Recharged. 

Boots

11 Feb

i went shopping yesterday, after my (two-hour} nap and another jail run.  i’m not really a shopping kind of gal, more a hunter than a gatherer in a store but i needed a new jacket and ~~

i found the cutest pair of boots.  What i think of as just-slightly kinky.  And since i’m running late this morning, {big shock, right} AND have chores to do, i thought i’d show you the boots:

Here’s a close up:

Cute, aren’t they?

i also got:  a shirt with buttons {i now have about 6,} two winter jackets, {one black, one purple} ~ the one i had, my first husband gave me for Christmas, and i’ve been divorced for going on 15 years now.  i got another pair of boots ~ short ones, with not very high heels ~ like you wear with boot leg pants ~ and a pair of black kind-of-like tennis shoes.  All for about $150.  

i thought that was fairly amazing.

i haven’t forgotten that i need to finish my post on self-care, and it’s half written already ~ in my head.  

And i get to see Sir tonight, if the stars are aligned right and neither one of us has to work.

It’s 27 degrees out there this morning, wind is 15 mph from the northeast, which means it’ll be whipping around like knives down near the river where i do my volunteer thing.  And sitting here writing is not gonna make it any warmer.  Gotta go find my long underwear now…