Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Protector Files

So, today I've spent my second day home sick from work. I'm feeling tired, sleepy, achy, and I have a stuffy nose. A lot like that commercial for the old Nyquil, before they took out everything helpful in it.

I spent most of the day sleeping off and on. I don't know if it's the combination of the meds that I'm taking or just that my dreams are getting a lot more interesting, but I was able to remember a few of them.

Daddy called today and wanted to come up and take care of me. Part of me really wanted to be cuddled, fed soup, and tucked into bed knowing he was near me, while the other part of me wanted him to stay as far away from my cold as possible. I hope he doesn't catch it. That is one thing I really don't have any wish to give him.

But we chatted off and on today. In one of those chats, a subject came up about the term "protection" in regards to bdsm. A group that we belong to had gotten into a discussion about the need for "protectors". And I suppose, by extension, the need of others to BE protected.

I'd started thinking about a conversation that I had recently with a friend about her 17 year old niece that came out to her as kinky. This friend was looking for help from others about how she should go about introducing this niece to the community. We chatted back and forth, and I gave her some ideas about what a 17 year old faces, and that it seems to be so much easier now with all of the information available, not to mention the fact that she had an aunt that could guide her. It's also a lot more dangerous with all of the bad information around. But never did I use the word protector. Neither did she. We both used the word mentor.

So is a mentor and a protector the same thing? I don't think so.

A mentor is a teacher, a counselor, an advisor. They're not there to tell you that you're doing something wrong, but to show you how to do it and to let you run with it. They're also there to teach you about your chosen field, and to be a sounding board for problems that you've discovered along the way. They might have some advice about how they solved the same things for themselves, but to me, mentors don't have a vested interest in the lives they're mentoring. They care about the person for sure, but I think that a mentor's greatest satisfaction comes from seeing a person whom they've mentored exceed and succeed.

A protector is someone who cares for property. You protect things, not people. Although in this world, property is a label that is taken on by a lot of people, in actual reality, they're still people. You can to protect people FROM things, you can shield and shelter and call it protection, but I don't really think that this is the best way for people to learn. Shielding and sheltering, while nice and cozy, just perpetuates a sense of security, and doesn't give someone the tools they might need to exceed and succeed the way mentoring does. A protector has a vested interest in the protectee...if the person whom you're protecting ends up hurt, then the protector has failed to protect. A mentor, who allows someone to make their own mistakes and then is around to show how to fix them...isn't a failure at their job.

Is a protector in the scene necessary or will it just become a way for doms and tops to prey on naive subs and bottoms? Daddy said that protection wasn't limited to just bottoms and subs....but somehow, I can't really imagine a top saying "hey...anyone want to protect me?" or even saying "I think I need protection before I got to this really cool party for the first time". Other than condoms.

No, I don't think that when people talk about protection, they're thinking that doms are looking to be protected. I think they're specifically speaking about all those naive, stupid, too agreeable to say no, and airheaded subs that they think NEED protecting from all those "other" domly doms. Unfortunately, I've rarely met ANY sub who doesn't have a mind of her own enough to see through this device. Most teenagers and young adults these days have a very well-defined sense of bullshit.

It's those few that come into our midst that don't have a clue in hell about LIFE, not just bdsm that I worry about. I don't feel a need to protect them, but I do feel a need to be around, talking to them, and leading by example. When they can see a strong, confident, intelligent, fun woman submitting....maybe they'll say to themselves, I don't have to get on with the blond jokes to be real about this.

No, I think that there's too few people needing protection, and many more needing mentoring. And I also think that no dom should EVER mentor a sub....or vice versa. While they can and do make a nice secondary resource...primary mentoring should come from those with like experiences. I wouldn't want to be mentored by a dom. In fact, I was mentored by a switch. Although he didn't call himself that because that word wasn't in general usage when I was being mentored, I can't imagine being mentored about things like subspace by a dom. Unless you've had the experience that your mentoree will likely have, what are you gonna tell them? Can a dom really tell someone the strength of effort that it sometimes takes to submit? Can a dom really understand how it feels to be a submissive in a relationship..anymore than I can understand what it's truly like to be a dominant in a relationship? Will the protector just impart their own expectations upon the protectee...also known as that dastardly "one twue way" of doing things? That's a huge danger. To protect, a protector sets the rules and limits....and isn't that the very essence of a d/s relationship? So are they really protectors or just doms who don't want to scare the newbie until she or he has learned to please the protector?

So all I can do is laugh at the "Protection Club" that's been started, and try not to think of it too much as a protection racket. Which, in my opinion, it certainly seems like it. Well, laugh and try my damnedest to be more aware of people who might just need a friendly ear to talk to once in a while. Just to let them know that protection offers false comfort and security at the expense of self reliance and determination. Letting a protector say no FOR you does not teach you how to say it for yourself.

And I think that's what makes the whole idea of protecting so sad.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Am I the Only One?

Today is Yom Kippur.

I'm not Jewish, so I don't understand the history, the community, and the values that go into that holiday. Daddy has tried to explain about how it makes him feel, and I have tried to understand, but I just don't get it.

Raised in a Catholic/Protestant household, my religious life consisted of trying to duck out of Sunday school as often as possible. I was afraid of the nuns and lay-people who always seemed to end up thinking I was some sort of idiot seven year old child who didn't know what transubstantiation or reconciliation was. And for the record....I didn't. I'd missed that homework assignment.

After being told to stand in front of the class with my nose to the blackboard, and after having my hair pulled by the nun because I wasn't going to do it, I'd decided at the ripe old age of seven that I'd had enough of religion.

My mother didn't protest when I'd said I was done. As long as I made my first communion, to make my father's mother happy, she wasn't going to push. My dad, who'd had his own issues with the Catholic church, decided that it just wasn't worth the fight that I was going to put up, making me go. My first confession consisted of telling the priest that I'd fibbed to my parents, I'd hit my sister, and that I was just an all around bad person. Heck, I thought that I needed something bad to be able to confess, so I started making shit up. I didn't like my teacher; I'd cheated by watching tv when I was grounded...just to show that I was a bad person who needed to confess. I'd tried to remember what the commandments said and tried to fit each of them into something I could confess. Good thing that I didn't know what adultery was at seven. I can imagine the priest's heart attack having heard that one come out.

He didn't try to correct me, or show me how to be better, but instead, gave me five Hail Mary's and five Our Fathers as penance. I didn't know how to tell him that I didn't even know how to say either of them. I left the confessional, walked out the door of the church, and said, well...if that was supposed to make me feel better or closer to God, it missed the mark by a long shot. God already knew I got bagged for lying and hitting my sister...and he knew how sorry I was about it. What would pretending to pray add but yet another thing I'd have to confess about next Sunday?

I've been to church over the years...weddings, funerals, and I even tried to get over myself with this when I had children of my own. I'd hoped that after 20 or so years, things had changed. I enrolled my kids in Sunday school, and tried talking with them about what they were learning.

I'd joined the mother's club, offered to volunteer for groups and events, and was always turned down because I didn't have the background to "be effective". I was lost in a world I didn't understand, and despite my best efforts, I was again turned away. Nobody noticed when I didn't continue. Well, nobody except the church secretary who asked me if I wanted to make my monthly donation today because it seemed to be missing.

But what really got my ire up, was when one of my kids came home and said that he'd been forced to stand in front of the class with his nose against the chalkboard, because he'd forgotten his homework. And if that wasn't bad enough, they'd both been asked to leave the children's chorus because their voices were "too deep" and stuck out, thus "ruining the overall sound". I thought...huh, here's two kids that just want to sing, and they're being told they 'stood out too much'?

That's when I realized that religion wasn't about inclusiveness, love, understanding, charity, forgiveness or any of the lofty values that churches purport to have, it was about toeing a line and fitting in. For me, fitting in wasn't possible and so my only alternative was to not.

So over the years, I'd never given much thought to religion. It always seemed like something that other people "got", while I was left wondering what it was about me that just couldn't "get" it. When filling out cards that required a religion to be named, I'd left it blank. When holidays came around, I'd celebrated the secular and ignored the religious meanings. When my youngest sister decided to reaffirm her faith and be confirmed, I just smiled and went on my merry way.

So having a Daddy that is so very smart, doesn't mind my questions, loves to explain things, and doesn't think I'm an idiot child for feeling like this, is wonderful. He assumes that I know a lot of things about my own religion that I'm sometimes embarrassed to tell him that I don't. I've never even owned a bible, much less read it. In this, we're very much different. He knows about his own religion, and can tell me a lot about what used to be mine. But I don't think he can really know how it was to be brought up as a Catholic, anymore than I could know how it is to be Jewish. Both are religions. Both have rules, ritual, and rigamarole. They have a lot of commonalities and a lot of differences.

But the one thing that Daddy has always said, and he said it to me last night, was that the important thing with Judaism is the community. On Yom Kippur, sins are asked to be forgiven on behalf of the community. He said it's easier to ask for forgiveness if somebody else helps you. I find that an interesting contrast. In Catholicism...you're on your own. Alone in a confessional, and with nobody there to support you or help you.

I'm still not sure about religion, but it seems to me that this at least is one of the things that I'd always felt was a big problem in my own religion. Asking forgiveness alone, and thinking that you're the only one.

Somehow, I think that if I'd known that I wasn't the only one who was a bad child, or who questioned or didn't quite get it, I'd have felt a little differently.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

I Have More In Common With a Domme

I'd complained to Sir in the past about the kinds of peole that I'd met during my early months in the Boston scene. Most of the people I'd become friends with early on, didn't quite "get" the D/s aspect of bdsm that was important to me. They'd called me a switch, a tickleslut, and never could quite undersand that what I searched for in a relationship was a lot more than being a sometimes bottom tickleslut. They didn't understand and tried to fit me into a familiar mold. It was annoying, but never did I feel like crap from being around them.

Sir had told me about a local group of masters and slaves. He'd been to meetings of that group alone, and with his prior sub, and found the people there to be intelligent, thoughtful, and for the most part, normal people living in a D/s or M/s lifestyle.

I decided to try my hand a meeting last night. This one had come across my computer screen off and on for a couple of weeks and Sir had mentioned to me several times that I'd find the people there more along the kinds that I was used to; and that I'd have a lot more in common with. They weren't all "internet-slavey" types, but shared a serious interest in D/s relationships.

I contacted the organizer of the meeting, which was to be just the "little s" part of the group, and arranged to attend. It was being held at a restaurant about a half hour from my house, which meant that it was also about a half hour from Sir's house. That meant that I'd be able to go to Sir's after the meeting. I'd started looking forward to the meeting.

When I arrived, there were six of us. A seventh joined us a bit later and an eighth came in much later. I was having a wonderful time until No. 8 showed up. Things went downhill quickly from there and today, I'm left wondering: if these are the kinds of people that Sir thought I'd have more in common with, either he doesn't know them very well....or he doesn't know me as well as I thought.

To be fair, before No.8 showed up, I was having a good time. I knew one of the people there pretty well, and a second I'd spoken with briefly from time to time. The conversation was fun, intelligent, and I enjoyed swapping stories with them.

No.8 and I knew each other. No.8 is in fact a good friend of Sir's. I'd met her a few times and while Iknew that we'd probably not be friends, I didn't have any firm reason why I knew I wouldn't want to spend a lot of time with her. You know how there's just some people you meet and the hairs jus raise on the back of your neck? That's how I'd felt the first time I met No.8.

Regardless, I didn't dislike her...I just didn't think we'd ever truly hit it off well enough to go beyond politeness when we were together. And that's OK. There's many people I don't always like enough to spend time with voluntarily....but I don't dislike them enough to avoid doing it either.

But No.8 had some news that she was just chomping at the bit to tell everyone. It seemed that she has a new Sir of her own. I was excited for her, as was everyone, and we were all damned curious about who it might be. But, after she'd told us who it was, I felta sick feeling inside. And apparently my face gave me away. My friend, who was sitting next to me, immediately picked up on it and questioned me. I didn't know what to say about it and finally told her that the person No.8 was now seeing was the one that had injured me a few weeks ago, with no apologies. She knew he rest of the story, so she'd understood my reaction.

I had to sit through about 40 minutes of No.8 extolling the virtues of this epitome of domliness all the while trying to keep my quesadillas from coming back up my throat. I thought a lot of things about that person over the past few weeks and none of them were kind. No.8 apparently thinks that he's sort of a "famous" domly dom...full of sensuality, intelligence, and responsibility. Personally, the idea of the first squicks me; the second is hard to find through the fantasyland he lives in; and I know first hand how much of the last is missing. He's probably one of the most irresponsible domlies I've come across in 10 years. The difference is that he's been lucky until now.

Once I'd gotten over that shock, and afer I'd gotten up for a walk to clear my head and text Sir about this vomit-inducing turn of events, I returned to the table with my smile in place. Only my friend could tell the difference and she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

The conversation was then moved by No.8 to catting about someone else in the group that wasn't in attendance. The sheer amount of crap this group was saying about some woman I'd never met was astonishing. it's one thing to gossip with your best friend about someone else once in a great while (like who can't help that?), but it's an entirely different thing to say those things in a large group. What was even more astonishing was that once No.8 got going, it seemed like everyone had to "one up" her with another horrible story about this person. I was sitting in my chair thinking "my god...these people don't know me...I might be friends with the person they're talking about". I was also thinking that this might not be exactly a group of people that I'd like to spend time with. The negativity, the shared cattiness over a common enemy, and the groupthink mentality was a drain on me.

As I was leaving, the organizer told me that I'd be welcomed to come to the main meeting alone if I liked. My friend then told me "I could sit at her Master's feet if I felt uncomfortable and needed someone to protect me". I barely knew how to hold the bile down. Just what the fuck is it about me that makes people think I need protection? I don't need an anchor, a touchstone or a babysitter. When I'm with Sir, because of our relationship, he is my protection. Everywhere else..I can take care of me perfectly well thank you very much.

But before I said something that would have left a horrible impression of me and a bad reflection on Sir, I just made an excuse that Fridays were bad for me, but that I'd try to come.

My head was ready to explode at the thought of spending even one more minute with this gaggle. And I wondered: if their subs/slaves were like this...what must their doms/masters be like?

I finally left and drove to Sir's. I was so full of negative energy when I got there, I almost ripped his shoulders off while trying to disperse some of it through a back massage.I told him about the things that had been said, and about how I'd felt leaving that meeting.

He said the only thing that could have made me feel better at that point. He said he was sorry that he'd put me through that.

He explained that at the meetings he'd attended, these people really did seem like normal, smart, savvy women who were involved in D/s. He'd never seen them behave that way.

Which made me wonder. If I try to be a reflection of Sir in all that I say, do, and with how I interact with others, if being a good reflection of Sir's teaching, guidance, love and discipline is what I attempt to show others (despite my being a flirty brat sometimes) is what I'm doing just old-fashioned? Are my beliefs and training just out of date? These women put on a good show when their Sirs are around, but they are completely out of control when they're apart? Is it too much to think that part of my job of being owned by Sir is to remember that and act that way even when he's not with me?

Am I just too out of touch? Or...after all this time...have I really been wrong about everything? Does my kind of training work in today's world?

And I'm also thinking that the friends I first met aren't so bad after all They might not understand D/s or me, but they don't make any pretensions about who they are either.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Well THAT was Interesting

This weekend finally had some clarity for me.

This weekend started Rosh Hashanah. On Friday, I'd gotten out of work early and went to see daddy. He'd asked for my help getting things ready for Friday night when we'd be having a family dinner with The Boy and The Niece. I showed up and went to work helping him clean, a last minute trip to the store, and picking up The Niece at school.

We'd had a nice dinner, although I made a major faux pas when cleaning up afterwards. I won't make that mistake again and despite all my trysting with Mr. Google about Rosh Hashanah, never once were candles mentioned. Sometimes Mr. Google requires too much specificity to be useful. What was nicest about the dinner was that I could listen to how a family talked to each other...singing, laughing and enjoying each other. I've missed that a lot. Usually my family spends more time arguing than anything. That's why I dislike holidays.

After I took the Niece back to school, and daddy put the Boy to bed, we'd spent some time talking. Thankfully he didn't mention the candles.

On Sunday, while daddy went to shul, I did a little shopping. Daddy mentioned that if I needed something to do, I could clean his office. We'd joked about this several times, and by now I'm sure that he really thought it was never going to happen. I spent about a half hour cleaning and when he got back, he seemed a little surprised that so much had been done. Of course, it's really messy so it'll take several more mini sessions to get it all done, but I'd thought a pretty decent start was made.

We went to lunch and I went for a walk. It was a beautiful day and I'd really wanted to enjoy it. Daddy seemed pretty tired though and when I got back, he looked like he was ready to fall asleep in his chair. We talked about stuff for a bit and I massaged his feet for a few minutes. He really looked like he was going to nod off then. We went upstairs for a nap.

This is one of those times that I'm never too sure what he wants from me. He knows that I'm not tired and that I can't stay lying down for a long time without getting antsy. He loves me to be with him then though.

Because he was so sleepy, and because I know that scratching his back and rubbing his neck and shoulders makes him more relaxed, I started doing that. Usually after a few minutes, he's asleep and I'm left wondering "now what?"

This time though, I just continued to do it while he was sleeping. The more he relaxed into me, the more he purred, the less stressed he became, his face changed while he was sleeping. He was actually smiling while asleep. That gave me the motivation to keep doing it. If I could make him that happy simply by touching him, I was sure gonna keep doing it as long as I could!

It came to me then, that he seemed so vulnerable. I always looked at him as a strong, confident man. I'd rarely seen him as a man who just wanted someone to touch him lovingly while he slept. I looked at him smiling through sleep and purring and wondered how long it had been since he'd felt comfortable enough with someone to trust them to keep him safe and wrapped in comfort while he slept?

Instead of wondering "now what", I started wondering "what now". What can I do now to show him how much he means to me? What can I do now to show him that he can finally just sleep knowing that I'm there for him to take up the slack when he needs it? What can I do now to help make his life better?

It's interesting that such a little thing like touching someone with love can mean so much to both of us.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

I Have the Oddest Feeling I've Never Done This Before

Daddy and I had a fun night last night. We met a couple of our twitter friends for dinner. One, we'd known for a while, while the other was one we'd both had fun tweeting with. The restaurant was kinda cool but Singlegal is right...what's not to love about dancing bacon?

After Daddy and I got home, we played for a while. Rope, crops and canes were taken out and put to darned good use. He's figured out a way to have me desire and crave those things which I'd never been a fan of before this. Interesting how a little knowledge, in the right hands, can be used for such deliciously evil things.

When I left this morning, I had the oddest feeling hit me about 1/2 way home. Usually by that time, I'm a bundle of nerves, jittery, and dropping pretty quickly, but this morning was different. I'm not sure what's changed, but this morning when I saw that usual place on the highway that normally signals my brain to start missing Daddy again...I felt instead a calmness come over me.

It was the first time I didn't feel completely wasted leaving Daddy. I was the first time I felt as if I were sure about things and about myself. I smiled and thought...finally! This is the feeling that I'd been waiting almost eight months to feel after leaving him. This is the feeling that I'd wondered if I'd everhave again. I was smiling and if I could whistle I'd have probably done that.

The feeling I'd had was something that he'd said to me often enough, but it wasn't something that I was 100% sure I'd felt. As all the thoughts came to me...about how comfortable I am with him, how much I care for him, love him, and desire him...today I really felt the thing that he'd been feeling. It gave me a confidence, a peacefulness, and a new way of opening myself to him.

And the thing I felt? I finally felt this morning...without any prompting, considering, thinking or wondering....was that I am really his "mine".

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Running to Stand Still

Daddy said something to me last night that started me thinking.


We’d gone to a party on Saturday night. It was part of the Bound in Boston weekend, and many of our friends were there. Daddy didn't plan anything too strenuous for us because he had to leave early the next morning for The Boy, and I had my class to lead. Neither of us wanted to have too bad of a droppy day on Sunday.

After talking to friends for a while, and teasing Daddy relentlessly, he decided to use the St. A’s cross and give me a flogging and/or a spanking. He’d asked first about my injury and I told him that I’d probably be ok, but that we should be careful with it.

Off we merrily went. I was tied to the cross, being flogged, spanked and teased when my damned boots, while really hot looking, were making me concentrate on my feet hurting rather than on what Daddy was doing with the rest of me. I asked him to untie my feet.

After I was on the floor, with my hands still tied, he’d told me to “make my ass look pretty”. I know what he means when he says that. It’s a position I’m very familiar with and, as kinda loopy as I was from the flogging and spanking, I tried to do it. But with my hands tied to the cross, I couldn’t get into the correct position and the strain pulled on my chest. I looked at Daddy and said I can’t do it, my chest. He just looked at me and said something like "come on...did you forget how?". At the time, I’d thought that he couldn’t be serious....he wants me to do that after I’d just told him that my chest hurt? But I figured there was a reason for him to want me to do it regardless and tried....and the tears started. Not too much, and certainly not a meltdown, but the sense that I'd done something that had been wrong crept up on me.

Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure that he did hear me. It was pretty loud in the room just then, another scene with a lot of people had started, and I don’t really remember if I even said anything loud enough for Daddy to even hear. I know that if he'd heard me, even in the middle of that scene, he'd have figured out something else to do.

Regardless, he looked at me and knew something was wrong. Mostly because I tried to get my hat (which he’d hung on the top of the cross) and just get the heck off that cross. He untied me and we left the room, with his arm around me. And I remember now too, that after we left, I'd had a hard time sitting or even seeing the chair as anything other than a place to just "put me" away, and I was giving Daddy a rather hard time when he tried to put me in a chair. It’s amazing how much I forget right away. Only by talking about things a couple of days later, can I remember. Once I've started to fly, things get pretty difficult for me to process. Daddy knows this now though and that's why he doesn't expect really coherent answers right away. But a few days later, he always finds some way to talk to me about them.

But anyway, last night Daddy and I were having a discussion about “Broken Toys”, a website I’d found from my twitter friends, that had some essays on submissives with mental illnesses. Now of course, I’m not a broken toy, but some of the essays really struck me. I sent one to Daddy to read.

We talked about it for a bit and he’d mentioned that on Saturday, I got a twinge of something that he really hates to see. The twinge I got was of the whole “having to run” thing. He also told me that when I’m like that, I have a couple of faces. He’s not sure what they mean and it’s confusing for him. Of course, I can’t see my own face, so I asked him what he thought they were. He said they looked like anger and fear.

That kind of surprised me. I can’t remember one time when I’ve either been angry with, or fearful of, Daddy. If anything, he's brought me places where I haven't been in far too long simply because I'm not fearful of him.

But after he said that, I tried to remember some of the times where I’ve had a meltdown and from what I can remember thinking about them is that they do share a few commonalities...but I didn’t realize that those came out as anger or fear.

The commonalities I remember from all of those incidents was that all of those times, I’d felt something wrong. And by wrong, I mean as in definitely wrong with me. I’m not able to describe what that feeling is, but it’s like those times I’ve become the cause of something wrong. Either I couldn’t explain myself enough for Daddy to understand and he misunderstood, or I didn’t say something when I should have, when I’ve been hurt by something that he might have said and I misunderstood, or even when I’ve had physical pain that wasn’t intended. It’s like in those times I go from flying to crashing in the time it takes to hear Daddy’s heartbeat.

Those times feel like a failure, a disappointment, and a defeat. I am angry that I’m not able to control those feelings better. But looking at myself, I know that it's because I’ve never actually been allowed to experience defeat or failure in any way other than it ending up with me being a disappointment to the people I cared about most.

When those feelings show up, I do one of two things, neither of which I can obviously control and either of which is a surprise to me: I either avoid any situation where I could possibly fail....or I run from those situations where I start to feel like a failure.

We talked a bit about some of this, but I'm still not sure if I explained it well enough again. But after a restless night, spent lying and staring a the blackness of my ceiling, thinking about all of those times where I’ve felt like running, I felt like I had to write whatever was in my head down in order to understand any of it at all. I think I can see how things go, and where that point is that Daddy needs to be able to stop me from doing it...but whether or not we can figure it out when we’re in the middle of it....that’ll take some time and practice.

About the only thing I can’t figure out yet is if I’m running away from something still hidden in my head from the past....or if I’m scared because I’m running towards something I’m afraid will be another defeat.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Bound in Boston Day Two

I know this is a lot of blogging for a weekend. But I'd put it off after Shibaricon and ended up forgetting a lot, so I didn't want to do that again. I'd had such a wonderful time at the BinB, I don't want to forget it.

We woke up early and had the most wonderful morning in bed. I love those mornings where we're both tired, but we need to touch and be touched. He took something that Princess Kali had said on Friday night and ran with it. He was probably the silliest I'd ever seen him with the "da da dums", but I love it when we can just be together and laugh together.

Day Two started with breakfast with Roperider and CyberKat. I really like the both of them, and they have a style of relating to each other and with play that is very much like Daddy's and mine. They enjoy each other. They're fun to talk with, fun to be with, and they are the cutest damn couple I've seen in ages.

After breakfast, Daddy left the Con to take The Boy to Sunday school. It's something I knew would happen, and something that is important for all of us. I was actually kind of grateful that he'd had to do that, because I was teaching today and I think he'd have made me a little nervous. I'm sure I would have gotten over that pretty quickly, seeing his face there, but all the same, I'm kind of glad it worked out that way.

But not having much to do that early, I went back with Kat to help her get things ready for Day Two. I cut some rope, I helped set a few things up, and Roperider and I spent some time chatting. He asked about Merry and what the story was with that. Since he was curious, I figured it was time to let him in on a few details of my life before Daddy. It was interesting talking about some of those things. It was kind of like my life is a "before" and and "after" now. I spilled some beans and Roperider said that he couldn't really picture me with Merry....I seemed much different with Daddy. I smiled and said that's because I love Daddy and he loves me.

I attended Lee's Breath and Bondage class and loved every second of it. As much as I love Mollena Williams, I think that I'm a new Lee Harrington junkie too. He was very nice when his class ran over and apologized to me for it. I thought it was kind of funny...Lee Harrington apologizing to me? I thought "hey, you're LEE HARRINGTON and I'm just some giggle girl with a big mouth who hasn't a clue in hell". But it was nice all the same.

And then it was put up or shut up time for me. I had half hoped that there wouldn't be anyone in my class and was getting nervous with all of the people that showed up. Then I saw LadyD, S, and Topologist and felt a little better.

I think it went well. There was a lot of discussion, a few things not on topic, but things that added to the discussion and I think I got some of the main points that I'd wanted to convey across: communication needs to happen; bottoms are important; and that bottoms need to help their tops. Also a big one for me is disappointment and how to deal with it. That one got a lot of discussion for which I'm very happy. When it ended, I'd felt like I'd accomplished a huge goal for me and left the class in a wonderful frame of mind. Daddy was right, I could do it.

The con ended with demos and Daddy and I were tweeting during them. The one we both liked the most was Lee and Amy's demo, which didn't include suspension at all. We both had one thought, which Daddy tweeted and I couldn't agree more with "YEAH, that's how it's done".

And that's how I learned to listen to Daddy, trust him even with the silly stuff, and trust myself that I could step outside my comfort zone and do something to add to my own and others' enjoyment of rope.

And the best part of the weekend? Daddy and I learned to enjoy our dance again.

Day One of Bound in Boston

Saturday at Bound in Boston was wonderful.

We'd gone to the NEDS class Friday night before the BinB. Princess Kali was holding a Role Play class and due to a series of fortunate events, Daddy and I ended up attending the class. It was a good thing that we did, because I took part of what I learned at that class and put it to good use it later.

But Saturday morning, we'd gotten up, I got breakfast while was Daddy was in the shower, he teased me a little about the amount of luggage I'd brought for an overnight, and off we went to the BinB. We got ready for Daddy's class which was the first one of the Con. We really didn't know what to expect or how many people would be there. I was surprised at how many new people we had in that class and was excited for Daddy. He used his "everyone should get a Wendy" joke (which always gets a laugh because it's so funny) and we started on the chest harness that we'd practiced a few days earlier.

It is usually so odd being in rope as a practice bottom in a class, but this time it felt different. Although Daddy was teaching, and therefore his attention was on his students, I felt his attention on me this time. He was careful, caring and sweet while tying the harness. I actually got a little floaty from the attention this time, which hardly ever happens when we're teaching but sure was a very nice way to start off the day.

After teaching the harness, and single/double column ties, we walked around and helped the students with their ties. This is the one reason that I'm learning rope. Daddy can't do it all himself and I think he likes me to be able to help others learn what he's teaching. Daddy's class went well I think. His sense of humor and fun comes out when he's got an audience.

After a short break, and after talking to a lot of friends, we ended up in Murphy Blue's office hours. When Daddy asked me if I wanted some rope on me, I hesitated for about three seconds and then said that I didn't know what we could possibly do.

He just looked at me and his eyes said 'trust me'.

He started tying a backwards takatekote. It's not easy to turn that one around and there were some problems. It alleviated pressure on my sternum, but left too much play in with the hands. But the really interesting thing that happened during the tie, was that Daddy was in front of me, we were talking, and working together to figure it out. I had a wonderful time in Daddy's rope but something occurred to the both of us at that moment. Takatekotes are usually tied in the back, and therefore the top's focus and attention are behind the bottom. Because we had to tie to backwards, Daddy was in front of me. That small thing made a lot of difference in the dance this time and was enough for me to learn to enjoy Daddy's ropes again.

But we were having trouble locking it off enough, so he asked Lee Harrington for some tips.

When Lee (who was very much in demand) took a look, he got out some rope and showed Daddy a really great way to lock down the tie. It was an "AHA" moment and one that was very cool for the both of us I think.

We split up after that class, Daddy went to Dov's Predicament Bondage, while I went to Lady Death's Cock and Ball tie class. I'd wanted to go to support Lady D and I think Daddy understood that. Since Dov's class was a demo rather than a hands-on, it worked out. I left that early though because I didn't really want to tie someone, I'd just wanted to see it done. It was purely for educational purposes this time!

After that, Daddy and I went to the room to relax. I really wasn't up to attending P's class. We were both still angry with him, and I really wasn't up to playing with rope that way. We had dinner with Lady D and S, and had a really nice relaxing time. After that, we went back to our room to get ready for the party.

The party was one of the nicest we'd been to. Everyone was playing, or if they weren't they were respectful and aware. We did make a little mistake when I was tied to the cross and getting spanked, but it really was little and we fixed it immediately. My chest did hurt a little more after that, and Daddy was sort of angry that I hadn't put a firmer foot down (also known as safewording). He mentioned that I really needed another word to use. We'll have to think about that. I do have such a hard time telling him when something isn't right and I wonder why that is.

He was a little evilish though and decided that the Luna Beads would be kind of fun for me to wear. Lots of my friends helped Daddy out with that one and made it quite an interesting night.

All in all, it was a wonderful day. We'd learned a lot of important things together, learned that there are still a few things I have to work on, and more importantly...we learned that there are ways to play with rope through an injury.

But the most important thing I learned again was that Daddy is possibly the most amazing man I've ever met.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Bound In Boston Preparation

This weekend was the Bound in Boston. It's grown from a small group with 40 or so locals attending, into a two day event with some very cool out of towners helping out. Lee Harrington, Murphy Blue, and Dov were all there to lend a hand. The Bound in Boston rope con has become a wonderful rope focused event that had a Shibaricon flavor, but a lot closer to home.

So many things happened in the past week leading up to it, that it seems kind of surreal.

The first thing was that I had gotten hurt and didn't think I'd be able to be in ANY rope at all. It was a major disappointment and one that made me angry. Daddy tried to help me find ways to alleviate some of this, but in the end it was me who had to listen and find a way to let it go.

A few days before the Bound in Boston event, I went to visit Daddy. During dinner, he told me that he wanted to try something for his class and asked me if I wanted to try some rope. Now, thinking about how how we'd been not playing with rope recently, with him saying it was going to be just another learning experience, and with the thought that I'd probably not be able to wear any rope anyway, I wasn't holding out much hope for feeling any better about it.

He was very careful with the rope. He paid more attention to me, and I to him, during the simple chest harness, than we'd done in months. He had to adapt the tie to my injury and I had to pay attention to every twist of the rope. It wasn't exactly a dance, but instead it felt like we were remembering how to dance and just needed the right music. The tie went well and we were both happy that it worked out.

I still wasn't convinced that I'd be able to have any rope on me at the Con. But Daddy assured me that we'd figure out a way to make it work.

That same night, I got a message from Roperider saying that Nix had to withdraw from the Con. She was scheduled to lead a ropebottom discussion. That was a class that I'd particularly wanted to attend. So much so, that I'd started something of a minor rebellion when I'd thought I wouldn't be able to attend. I'm always so disappointed when things like this are scheduled opposite top-centric skills classes.

But anyway, Roperider asked me if I'd like to lead the discussion instead of Nix. I asked Daddy what he thought and he said that I should do it. I kinda thought that it was time to put my money where my mouth was. I'd solicited advice, gotten in touch with Nix and started planning.

Between planning for the discussion and getting all of our other last minute arrangements made (not to mention deciding which shoes to wear), the rest of the week flew by.

I was nervous about the class, and still wondered if Daddy and I really would find a way to dance.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Friday Night Movie Night

Tonight's movie was Marquis de Sade's Justine.

The movie looked really good. I should have known that any movie whose tag line reads "A woman named Justine is (willingly) used and abused by all manner of perverts, freaks and sexual deviants" wouldn't probably live up to my expectations. But I had hope.

It was probably the second worst movie I'd ever seen. Right after Liquid Sky

I really need to watch Quills again and get some perspective.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Something to Make Me Smile

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Somebody Needs a Good Ass-Kickin'

Another Bondage Club meeting last night.

I'm thinking that this might be my final one for a while. While I'm not ready to give up the other parts of my life, that's one that is fast losing its fascination for me...as are a great many other things.

I've been going to Bondage Club for 11 months and have missed, I think 2 of them- both because Daddy and I preferred to spend that time together alone. Although Bondage Club was what I'd thought of as a nice way to start off every month, seeing my friends, catching up and having some fun with rope I don't miss it when I've had to skip it.

Last night was The Floating World Review. During the first half, Robo and Addie gave a presentation on Kama Sutra bondage that they'd learned from Lee Harrington. Because he had things that he had to do, Daddy had to miss this first part. The bondage was interesting and looked kind of fun. If Daddy didn't hate to be tied so much, it actually looks like something that might be fun to do once in a while. Especially considering each of our currently apathetic feelings towards rope lately. Robo and Addie looked like they were having fun and because of the nature of the tying and wrapping....they had to both pay attention to each other for it to work. That was the coolest part.

Daddy arrived during the break.

During the second half, Trialsinner gave a presentation on super glue bondage that he'd learned from Dov at Floating World. While interesting, I don't really think that this is something that I'd care to do. It lacks the finesse of rope or even the smooth feeling of a set of leather restraints. And thinking of gluing pussy lips, fingers to clits, or any other part of the anatomy with super glue just makes me think of hangliding....something fun to watch others do but I've got no desire to try it myself. As I've told Daddy....I have two of most things...so if one's out of commission for a bit I can deal...but I only have one clit and I kind of like that one so I don't fool around with it. Well, you know what I mean.

After the class ended, the day started catching up to me. I started to get tired, I hadn't eaten much and with Daddy there stroking my hair and talking to me with that wonderful voice of his, I'd started to get sleepy. He asked me what was wrong.

And since nothing was wrong....heck no...everything was right in my world at that particular point (after all I was sitting on Daddy's lap)...I said "nothing's wrong". He explained to me this morning that when he asks that question, he's asking for a "status condition" and doesn't expect that something is wrong, just that he can tell that something is not as usual. I'd like to promise that I'll always remember that, but I've got a long way to go before I'll ever believe that there's a damned thing wrong when I'm snuggling with Daddy.

I did realize something last night though.

I realized that there's another person that I'm going to have to now keep at arm's length, try to avoid without looking like I'm doing it, and be nice to him when all I'd really like to do is kick him in the balls. The keeping at arm's length thing though is the big one. Avoiding without offending is going to be difficult. But I really don't need a touchstone for that. And if he touches my stones again...there will be an ass-kicking. And I won't be the one kicking my own ass for not kicking his this time.

But my chest hurts like the dickens this morning and I'm wearing a bruise that Daddy didn't put there. He isn't too happy about how it got there and frankly neither am I. I like Daddy's bruises and love to feel them afterwards for days. This one just reminds me how much I really am so not a fan. The bruise I got hurts in a bad way, wasn't consensual by any means and makes me fucking angry as hell. But the person that did it? Should have fucking known better. A friendly hug goodbye does not give one the permission to do what he did...no matter how he thought he heard something nor without express permission for that sort of thing. Where he bruised can be seen with my work clothing and now I have a bruise that I have to hide. He didn't think and I'm actually finding that happening a lot with this person. It's not cute anymore and I'm not willing to make any more allowances. He's going to find out just how much iron I've got under this giggly exterior.

I'm happy that I got to spend some time with Daddy last night but I think either I'm gonna have to become something of an untouchable bitch around certain people and that makes me kind of sad. Just when I thought I could start to drop my masks around other people....I'm going to have to put back on the one I hated the most.

Also, Daddy thinks I'm still fighting myself. He's right of course. That would be a lot easier not to do though if he'd just tell me what he wants rather than having me try to figure it out on my own.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Sir or Daddy?

Sir and I had a brief conversation this morning about this blog. I have the oddest feeling that I'm going to be teased mercilessly for some time about my need to write things down in order to figure them out. That's fine. I can handle the teasing and truthfully, I kind of like it. It's a lot like flirting.

The thing that Sir found the oddest about this blog was that throughout it, I have called him "Sir". And it IS odd. Mostly because I usually call him "Daddy". I tend to reserve "Sir" for those times when he's (as he said) dominating me, hurting me, or using me. Most of the time he IS Daddy to me. Its only the times when he's being that mean, sadistic bastard that I love to have hurt me, use me, and dominate me that I use "Sir". At times like those, calling him Daddy would be too much like trying to wheedle my way out of breaking curfew. At times like those, I need a Sir. Daddy has authority, Sir has command. Daddy has softness, Sir has a sadistic streak that matches my opposing side. Daddy is my comfort and safety. Sir is sometimes as dangerous as a hungry lion. Daddy is the man I love to love. Sir is the man I love despite myself.

I've often wondered why it seems so easy to switch back and forth between the two. And I suppose it's a lot like everything else in our relationship...things just fit when and how they're meant to. Things happen in their own time and in their own way. We're writing our own rule book for this. Nobody can do it for us and even if we read every book ever written on kink or D/s, we'd still have to write our own book.

So from now on, sometimes I'll use Sir and sometimes I'll use Daddy. They're the same person, just different terms for how I see him at different times. One thing I won't do however is call him Septimus. I don't know who Septimus is. All I know is the wonderful, caring, fascinating, adorable man that I call Daddy.

And that's the way I like it.

Rope Dancing

I finally told Sir about this blog. He was a little surprised that I'd been keeping it for so long without telling him about it, but I reminded him that we'd discussed everything that was in it and that he'd seen most of it already. I'm not a huge fan of keeping secrets and I'd never keep something as ridiculous as my confusion from him. Mainly because making me uncomfortable in my head is one of the things he likes to do the most.

We did have a discussion about my listening skills though. He confirmed my suspicions that, although I do listen very well, the things I hear aren't always interpreted in the way he intends them to be. That's the problem with mind-reading....unless you're the person in charge of the mind at that moment, things are bound to projected into what is heard.

The other thing we discussed was rope. I finally told him how rope had made me feel lately. And that feeling is pretty much I can take it---but I would just pretty much prefer to leave it. At least for right now.

That feeling surprised me a lot. I love rope. I love the feeling of rope wrapped around me, I love the dance of rope, I love scratchy rope, soft rope, rope that is just lying (not laying) around for me to touch...heck I'd go so far to say that very often I used to try to have to control my tongue from licking my lips whenever I saw rope in his hands. I used to get a butterfly feeling in my stomach whenever I saw him with his rope bag and I very often went to sleep dreaming of his rope covering me.

So feeling like rope was an annoyance really bothered me. He'd asked during our conversation if it was "rope" or the way "he did rope". I actually don't know the answer to that and it bothers me.

We met at a rope class. Our first date involved rope, he teaches rope classes, we went to Shibaricon together, and because of his love of rope, I've begun my explorations into rope topping. I look at him and rope as intertwined in my life (pun intended) and I loved being on the receiving end of those dances.

I think part of the problem is that the more we've gotten involved in rope, the more often we're either just learning or teaching it. We seldom play with it anymore. In fact, we've played with it so infrequently that the last time he'd tried to tie a takatekote on me, I could barely get my muscles to accept it. When he tied me, it was like my body was rejecting a foreign substance.

Part of the problem may also be that as I am learning rope, I pay attention to the tying instead of the feeling. I want to see how things are done, I want to learn how the knots are tied, I want to learn. And learning sort of precludes being in that nice little rope space that I used to find so easily.

And I think part of the problem is that there's just too much rope here in rope-centric Boston. Suspension is the new black (I forget who said that but it was either Trialsinner or Topologist); every ropester just wants to do suspensions, take pretty pictures, and make the young pretty girls fly. But there's very little being done AFTER one is wrapped in rope. There's no real "scenes" involving rope that aren't involving suspensions, and there's hardly any rope that's being done as part of play that isn't THE PLAY. I wonder about that.

Rope isn't the end-all for me. It's a beginning...a pathway to other things. But lately, being around all these rope tops who love suspension, it seems to me that rope has become a means all unto itself. I think people have forgotten that rope started as a means to restrain the bottom for the other delicious things that happen when you've got a captive bottom tied up. And I think that's part of what I'm feeling right now. I don't know whether I should thank or curse Mark Yu for this one though :)

And finally, I think that part of the problem is that Sir is kind of ambivalent about rope right now too. He tells me I can ask for it, but I really don't want to do that. I hate to ask him for things like that when I know he's not really in the mood for it. I'm actually more afraid that he'd acquiesce to my request and I'd end up feeling as if I just wanted out of it. I'd feel like he did all that work for nothing. And when things become work, they tend not to be so much fun anymore.

I need to find an answer to this soon though. I miss my friend a lot. But what I miss more are the dances Sir and I used to have. It isn't the rope I miss, but the connection and attention that comes through the strings. That's what I'm finding annoying right now. I think that we're dancing but counting the steps, rather than dancing as if no one is looking.