Friday, January 29, 2010
"You just take a flirt, stretch it in a way making it more raw, kinky, or perverted or dirty..."
As anybody who knows me can attest, I’m a huge flirt. I’ve been flirting since I was a little kid, trying to get that cute boy to like me. I learned really early that the best way to get a boy to talk to me was to ask him for help. In that case, it was with the "suddenly loose" pedal on my bike. I batted my eyelashes, giggled, and handed him the wrong screwdriver a couple of times. I knew exactly what I was doing. I even used a really dirty phrase (for a 12 year old) "does the screw go in the hole or do you bring the hole to the screw?" Yep....no problems mixing flirty and dirty when you're 12.
But when you're an adult, who has done kinky things for most of your life...maybe I'm a little jaded? Is that the right word? It's like that fantasy thing. I've DONE most of mine....and the ones that are left are so lame that not even I'd consider doing them anymore. And it goes back to the feeling, and the major question that I keep asking without an answer: when you’re a kinky person who DOES really dirty things (at least in the eyes of the non-kinky people)....WHAT feels dirty?
I’m going around in circles on this. I’ve never had much of an issue with my body and I’ve been pretty upfront about discussion of everything from my doctor’s visits to my menstruation cycle. I don’t generally blush (ask Daddy. He’s managed to do it only once in a year), and I’m not coy about what I like. I don't think anything to do with sex or kink is dirty. Well, okay...maybe a couple of things...but neither of us wants to do those...as he says....they defeat the "would he want to kiss me afterwards" test anyway.
As I've searched, and talked, and read, I believe I’ve narrowed this down to a couple of problems:
a) NOTHING I say seems raw, kinky, perverted or dirty. I mean that in a really good way. I do talk a lot, and I can stretch a flirt, but when EVERYTHING is like that, and it just feels normal...or it feels cold and clinical...how do I turn flirting into kinky?
b) I really get into my work and frequently lose not only the ability to talk, but to hear, think, or hell....even to remember my own name.
c) I still have trouble putting my feelings into words when I’m speaking. I suck at adjectives.
And from the bottom's up, the last one is the one that I think is the major wall for me.
Daddy tried an experiment on me the other night. I’m sure he didn’t know that I knew...you know? He kept stopping the action and asked me “how does it feel”? And sadly, I didn't know how to say it. The pleasure, the pain, the attention, the connection....why micro-explain? It's all good.
Why is it that I’m suddenly afraid of four word sentences?
And I think that is the key to talking dirty. I need to be able to let the words flow from my mouth as easily as they do from my fingers. When I write, I don’t think (which is why sometimes I get a little rambley). But when I’m talking to someone...I’m constantly looking for the right shades, trying to listen to them and respond in kind. I’m always searching for the “between the lines”, the “real meaning” behind the words. I’m trying to figure out what they want to hear....and I’m always waiting for someone to tell me I’m an idiot, I said it wrong, or I have a funny accent. OK, I’m kidding about the last two...mostly.
But mostly, I really need to stop thinking.
Next: Daddy finally dishes.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Since some people have asked about whether Talking Dirty and Begging are kind of the same thing, I thought I'd post my thoughts on begging. If you're a member of Fetlife, you can read the original post (and all the comments) here.
This is not directed to anyone in particular and certainly not to (you know who). Its something that I've struggled with for nearly 27 years and something I've never really been much good at.
So here’s the thing, I’ve never been much good at begging. It’s not that it’s humiliating, it’s just that it puts me into a weird sort of paradoxical headspace.
I like being in a D/s relationship. I find the control that I desperately crave within one, and I’m able to feel more comfortable within one. As a woman who is submissive in her relationships, I can’t be a submissive without having given that control to a dominant. I prefer that kind of relationship to all others. It makes me happy to cede control to my dominant and truthfully, even when those days hit and I would like nothing better than to thump him upside the head...I know my place and accept myself in it. It comforts me to know my designated role...there are no power struggles...I am his. Period. No questions there.
But the conundrum comes from feeling that if I’ve given someone the control, and therefore have given them the right to do, or not to do, whatever they’d like with me (limits aside) isn’t begging for something the very antithesis of why I search out that kind of relationship? I mean, if I’m begging after I’ve given up such controls...isn’t that sort of topping from the bottom? If I’m begging for something I want instead of accepting whatever is in his devious little brain that particular day....am I somehow trying to tip the control back to me?
Begging isn’t easy when you’re in a D/s relationship. Even if you enjoy humiliation as part of your kink, begging frequently sounds like whining or petulance, or even just selfishness. Yes, yes, of course...the dom doesn’t have to give into your pleas....but if you’re like me and don’t want the control, isn’t even trying to take it back by begging counterproductive?
If the dom does give what you’re begging for....its like learning that to get what you want....if you whine long enough, pout prettily enough, stomp your foot, coerce or convince him that what you want is something you just have to have, or if you’re a selfish petulant sub....you’ll get it. And isn’t that a reinforcement of negative behavior?
And, if the dom doesn’t give you what you’re begging for....especially when you’re begging because the dom wants you to, and if you already feel like I do....does it really matter if you don’t receive it? You didn’t want to beg for it in the first place.... you’re already IN this kind of relationship because you didn’t WANT the control. So you don’t get what you begged for...is it really so bad? I mean...the dom doesn’t want to give it to me right now...ok...he’s the dom...it’s his decision...
See what I mean?
And....do you beg for wants or needs? I WANT him to spank me until I’m red and can’t sit. I NEED a damn spanking once in a while and if I don’t get it, I’m pretty unhappy. Do I beg for my want, or my need? If I have to beg for things I need, to me that’s not the kind of relationship I want to be in. My needs will be met by my partner or I wouldn’t stay. Unhappy toys find new people to play with them. And I’m sure that in a D/s relationship....the D part doesn’t really want an unhappy toy. Part of the reason for being in ANY relationship is having needs met by someone. My wants....now see? This is where that old conundrum comes in. I won’t beg for things that I need from my partner no matter how “hot” it is to them. Needs are not negotiable.
So many doms find begging to be just really fucking hot....they want their subs to beg to be smacked around which, for a masochist, isn’t just a want..it’s something that they need. They want to be begged to “please Sir, may I suck your cock?”....like they’re really gonna say “no” for very long with a naked girl kneeling at their feet, tears streaming down mascara covered cheeks....and pleading prettily for something that they’d pay good money for? When last week I was being commanded to “suck my cock you dirty slut”...but this week I’m being asked to “beg for it”...just how does one change from being commanded by the D-type to do it.....to being told to wheedle and cajole the D type for it?
So, D types want to be begged, cajoled, pleaded with...but why?
The only answer I can come up with is so that they get to feel magnanimous in their assent...they get to feel powerful in their (even temporary) denial...they feel the power that they have over someone who wants something from them. And I’m sure for the sadists out there...they get a thrill for the tease and denial. There’s probably a thousand reasons why my dominant would want me to beg for something from him. Even something that I’m pretty sure he wants too.
And, I’m ok with all of those reasons.
For whatever purpose a dom wants to hear me beg, whatever design he’s got in his brain that needs me to beg for something....I’ll figure out a way to do it. Because, I’ve given up the control...and you want me to beg.
But please. Understand that I’m doing this for you. I’m not good at begging (trying to take control) because I’m good at being your submissive (ceding control to you). The worse I am at the first, the better I am at the second. But I’ll do it because that’s what you want me to do....but I’m not going to like it.
But that’s just me. And I’m begging for suggestions :)
And quite understandably, we talked about my latest jump into the abyss.
We'd gotten around to talking about dirty talk when he mentioned (in his usual way)...."you know....maybe if you tried using other words......like "man meat"....it might help.
To which I choked on my oreos and dropped the phone.
I love Radagast22. He always can make me look at a weird situation and make it even weirder.
But we'd talked for a while and he did say something I found really helpful in all that hilarity. He echoed Coyotetoo's thoughts on my first post about this. In order for me to talk dirty, I obviously need...ahem...somebody to point me in the direction, and that hearing dirty talk from someone sometimes makes it easier to continue with it from this direction.
I looked around some more and found something called "echoing".
Now, I've done "mirroring" in the past. You know....touch here, and reciprocate in tenor and intensity, but why it never occurred to me to try this with dirty talking is puzzling. Could it be what someone from twitter DM'd me about? That I really have a problem with this because I'm "afraid of being humiliated"? That made me think. Am I really afraid of humiliation play?
I've done things which any non-kinky person would find humiliating, but there ARE kinds of humiliation that are currently on my "list". Yeah...THAT list. Daddy and I have played around with humiliation a bit and it hasn't turned out very well. It's another work in process.
Perhaps the biggest humiliation thing is something that Daddy calls a "Russian". (What did people EVER do before the internet?) I call it tit-fucking and I don't like it. To me, it's humiliation with a capital NO. I've got a general idea of why, it's not that I've had bad experiences with it...but it's just one of those things where I "could be anyone". And I spent a lot of years learning that not only am a NOT anyone....I'm worthy and deserving of being someone.
But since it's not on my list (yes, THAT one), and I find it kind of unfair to change things now, and because Daddy IS a mean, evil bastard at times...I know that this is one that I'm going to have to figure out as well.
But back to cocksucking....er, I mean talking dirty while cocksucking.
Perhaps I can take that feeling....humiliation....and turn it into some really dirty talk. Now, that could be interesting.
Oh, and I found this little gem, in case anyone's interested: Dirty Talk
If you've never done this, it's interesting. I was at work, so I put in my earphones and minimized the window while I did actual work. I couldn't see the action, but I could hear the music and the voices. Frankly, neither was that great. And both were so stereotypically pornish, that I started giggling.
I did had a couple of conversations yesterday about my quest to figure out this whole dirty talking thing. The first was with Daddy.
He asked me if I was watching porn. I said yes, but that I wasn't that impressed with the talking. It seemed to me that the girls were either just oohing, aahing, and yessing (hardly what I'd considering talking) or that the talk seemed like they were cheerleading their guys on (yess..baby...oooh....baby....). I told him that I really didn't think he required encouragement-he was pretty good at it already. But that if he wanted encouragement in the form of cheerleading..
He laughed and said no, that wasn't what he was looking for.
First he said that porn girls don't do very good dirty talk (NOW he tells me) but suggested that I might want to look at Bree Olson. He thought she was "pretty good at it for a porn chick".
So I checked that out when I got home last night and it too made me giggle. As I was listening to Bree (ok, this time I DID watch) while she was shoving various implements into every conceivable hole, fondling her own tits, and explaining in great detail everything she was doing, two things popped into my brain.
The first was that she must be doing porn for blind people because I could clearly SEE that she was pinching her own nipples.....but obviously I needed to be told that she WAS doing it (hence, porn is for blind people).
The second was that even she spent a whole lot of time on the mmmm'ing, ahhhhing, and ooohing. The thing that made me giggle though was that she looked bored. There was a little dirty talk, but it was mostly geared to "I'm gonna lift my skirt" and "Look, my nipples are hard".
So it was either sounds or detailed explanations for blind porn watchers. Both things made me giggle as I questioned my sanity and tried to talk myself into channeling Bree. It ain't happening.
I'm still not getting it. Daddy did give me a better clue as to what he was looking for though. I think he's seen that I'm taking this seriously and has decided to show some pity for my cluelessness. Either that or he's afraid that I'll spend my shoe budget on porn. Because as everyone knows, good porn costs money.......well, if there WAS such a thing as good porn.
But that's why I love having a Daddy.
And I still haven't gotten to the really hard part of all this yet...I still haven't found a clue about how to speak when one's mouth is full of cock and balls. My tongue is so not that kind of contortionist.
Next up: My conversation with Radagast22 and my giggles over "man meat"
Monday, January 25, 2010
I've googled. It's not as helpful as you'd think. Most of the stuff I'm finding is written for pretty vanilla people who don't DO like actual kinky things. Like what's is so erotic about "hey, I found these handcuffs...you wanna try them out"? Especially when being tied up, tickle tortured, and soundly fucked is a normal day in our house.
Other stuff is written from what seems an extremely dominant point of view. I mean, I know that there ARE women who love to tell their guys what to do and that their guys LOVE to be told, but I think if I told Daddy that I was gonna "control him tonight" or that I wanted him to "Get over here, big boy. Show me what you’re packing"...well, let's just say that somehow that sort of thing doesn't seem like it'd go over too well in our D/s relationship. Although asking him to "use me as your toy" holds some charm...because I'm, like you know...actually his toy sometimes...it doesn't seem dirty.
So what then IS dirty talk? Descriptions? Wants? Expression of Desire?
I've tried imagining describing what I was going to do, but then I start doing it and I sort of lose track of the script. I've tried to imagine describing what I want...but I'm pretty sure that he already knows that I want to swallow him whole. Devour him completely and make him into a puddle of goo. It's not very hard to imagine describing things or telling him exactly how much I want his cock down my throat until the tears come to my eyes and I gag on it. Or maybe it's the other way around...gag first, cry after. I forget.
So what I'm left with is an expression of desire. He wants a verbal expression and not just going at it with gusto. OK, I thought, I can do that.
But after you say "I love it when...", "I need to have your...", just WHAT do I say? And it's slowly dawning on me, that this might be one of those times where sucking cock is actually harder than I'd ever imagined.
Talking dirty isn't easy when nothing you say feels naughty, or when naughty is something that happens every time you open your mouth.
Someone suggested that I use other words for cock and go from there. But calling his cock a "weapon of love" or "pussydestroyer" would likely make me choke getting the words out...and would surely make him laugh so hard he'd fall off the bed. He's an aural kind of guy, while I'm sort of visually inclined. While he'd probably snicker and say something like "uhmmm....NO", I'd actually try to PICTURE a pussydestroyer and come up with something like a battleship out on the ocean looking for the pussy island or something. Hardly a way to be dirty when you're laughing so hard you can't breathe.
I did find a clue as to why this might be so hard for me to figure out though. Nearly every site that I've come across assumes that it's the man's fantasy to have a dominant woman telling him all those dirty little things she want's him to do. Here's one example:
The woman must be the dominant one in the bedroom when talking dirty to her man. Assert your authority over him by telling him that you are the one in control concerning his pleasure and pleasure him beyond his wildest dreams. Dominate his mind with a choice of words that will be sure to have him begging you not to stop. A woman can blow her male lover's mind by tantalizing his mind with very vivid imagery just by using specific words that have that power. Some of these words could be for example she virtually made love to her breasts in front of him by cupping each of them possessively within the confines of her hands and placed her lips to each one to express her ardor openly and hungrily. Tell him to not speak one word or say anything as he listens to the words you will whisper into his ear seductively. If he does interrupt or say anything while you are in charge. You will punish him by spanking his bare butt or by initiating a touch or caress in a very arousing area and then only follow through part of the way before taking the touch or caress back. In other words, leave him on the edge of excitement, and then quickly retreat. He will get the idea and not interrupt your delivery of dirty words.
Hello? Uhm...if I even TRIED thinking about "spanking his bare butt", I'd not be able to SIT on mine for a week. Of course..................
no, I'd better not go there.
I'm still searching for an answer to this. Surely somewhere, there's someone who can help a girl out with talking dirty?
Next up: I'm giving up and going for the porn. When all else fails, it's always a good place to start.
Daddy quite often says things to me that I sometimes hear right, and sometimes I read into. But this one didn't leave any room for interpretation. It was one of the few times I can remember when he'd given me something tangible to work on. Not a direct order, but damn near close enough.
Everyone that knows us, knows that talking, words, and communication are one of the most important things in our relationship. I'm still not always great at that, but it's coming along. The major problem I have is putting my feelings into words when I'm not always aware of how I'm feeling. I can feel sad, but I don't always know what it is that's causing that feeling. Again, that's a work in progress and it IS getting better. Before, I'd have just felt sad, and then felt like I had to get the fuck out of Dodge.
I made a lot of mistakes this past weekend. I'd like to offer the excuse that I have a lot on my mind and my attention is divided. But excuses don't excuse the behavior and I wonder sometimes if dominants knew how much submissives beat themselves up when we fuck things up, if they'd still want to punish. And no. I didn't fuck things up, nor did I get punished. But I do wonder eventually what will happen then.
I was getting ready to head home this weekend, when Daddy thought a blow job for the road would be a great idea. Now, that's not something I'll turn down, so I got the pillow that he told me to get and began. I get into cock, but sometimes I forget that sucking his cock isn't always for me.....I know, pretty stupid of me to forget that. I mean, after all....it's HIS cock and it should be for him, right? But as I was enjoying myself, listening to his purring, feeling his legs quivering, and really getting into it, when he grabbed my hair, forced my head up and said those words that made me squirm.
"Talk dirty to me."
You'd think that for a kinky girl, that'd be easy. But all I could think was that I don't know how to do that. Those four words threw me right into "thinking" mode, and right out of cockspace. I started thinking...."what's dirty"? It's amazing how many thoughts can flitter across your brain in the space of about 30 seconds. I finally admitted that I didn't know HOW to talk dirty...and maybe I was "behind" because I don't watch porn anymore?
But, being Daddy, he'd given me some help. He gave me an example of what he was looking for. I giggled around the cock in my mouth and said "but that's not dirty talk....that's just normal". His reply made me giggle even more. "Then talk normal to me".
But I still couldn't do it.
That's when he told me I should blog about it, tweet about it, and figure it out. So, since I really DO try my best, here it is. The tweets will have to wait until after the dentist today.
Why do I find talking dirty to be so difficult? I thought begging was hard, but at least I can DO that if I have to. Maybe it's because I don't think that sucking cock IS dirty? I mean, it's like I'm ALWAYS telling Daddy how much I love his cock...and I will admit that sometimes he might feel as if his cock is the focus of most of my attention, but damn. I just can't figure this one out. Maybe it's that I just don't know how to talk dirty when saying things that don't SEEM dirty? I need to get some definitions or something of what's supposed to BE dirty and maybe pretend?
I feel a google tryst coming on. I just hope that those keeping track of my surfing in the great interwebs won't be too amused by my latest quest for information. I've really got to figure this one out though. If you're someone who already talks about cock a LOT, and doesn't find it particularly naughty (which I think you might in order for it to BE dirty), how do you do that?
Oh, and I also have to figure out how to talk through my nose or ears as well apparently. Daddy doesn't like me to talk with my mouth full.
Friday, January 22, 2010
But I’ll admit that I do get a little annoyed with them sometimes too. But it’s because they don’t respect that while they might be footloose and fancy free to do whatever they’d like to do with whomever they’d like to do it with, I have protocols I am required to follow. And some of them...even if they weren’t things that Daddy has insisted upon, I’d likely STILL do them anyway.
I don’t put my protocols “in their faces”. I don’t have a “high protocol” relationship and I don’t make a big deal about it. I can adapt things if I have to. Daddy isn’t a stickler for 100% obedience when it won’t work, but when I DO have to stop someone or do something based on my protocols, why do I get the feeling they’re just snickering under their breaths? And why do they continually “forget” that I’ve told them a million times that I can’t do certain things? Are they in denial or is it just that they’re not really as accepting of different choices? Do they want to try to cause problems? Or maybe just see the sub get punished for breaking her rules?
What they’re not seeing though is that a lot of my rules are for my protection. They’re for me to be able to rely on Daddy. And they’re not to be fucked with by outsiders. Maybe it’s the word “protocols” that confuses people. Would it be easier to understand if the world used “rules” or “customs” or “formalities” instead?
Daddy and I were at a party recently. We’d separated for a bit to talk to our respective friends, when I came up on a couple of my friends looking at some really cool finger knives. You know the kind...they look like claws, have sharp points, and are something that I absolutely love. One of my friends had put them on, and as I was oohing and aahing over them (and asking the owner of them where he’d bought them), my friend went for my chest with them.
Because I’ve been hurt in the past by someone who didn’t have permission to touch me, Daddy and I have a really strict rule about this type of behavior. It isn’t allowed. Period. Something that this particular friend knows darned well. And she knows why I now have this rule. It’s not because Daddy’s an ass and doesn’t like to watch me touch or be touched by my friends...it’s because we had to deal with the lengthy aftermath of the previous injury. It’s to protect me.
When I’d stepped back and said to my friend...."hey..you know that Daddy doesn’t allow stuff like that", she’d looked at me as if I had just said that the sky was green and filled with mice. Then she snickered and said to me “oh yeah...you guys and your protocols....get over it, he’s not here”. What she’d forgotten was that I’d have stepped back from them anyway. The points are sharp and I hadn’t seen them cleaned.
And I was hurt again. This time though I wasn’t hurt physically. No, I was hurt that my friend thought that somehow the rules were a joke between Daddy and me or that the rules only applied “when he was around”. And I got a little angry. Angry that I was being made fun of for my rules. I walked away and went to look for Daddy.
Once I’d found him, he looked up at me, asked if everything was alright, and smiled at me. He snuggled up next to me and resumed his conversation. I’d gone looking for Daddy because I was pissed at my friend and realized that without even knowing what had happened, he was able to see that something was wrong and was able to get me out of a bad mood simply with his smile and a hug.
And maybe that’s why people don’t fully understand protocols and end up making fun of them. They’re not only a way for us to connect to each other, but a way for him to look out for me when he’s not there to do it himself.
So, that’s why I’ll take my “protocols” over the “whatever/whenever” any day of the week. I know who I belong to. And to those that might giggle and wink over them...be happy for me and be happy that I have them. Sometimes, my protocols are the only thing keeping me from kicking your ass.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
He’d threatened to put me in the corner if I even thought about touching his belly button. Since I know that that particular activity has VERY narrow parameters of acceptability, even when I’m being a non-compliant bottom I know that it’s strictly at HIS discretion. I might tease him with it, but I’d never in a million years “go for it” without his compliance and assent.
I am developing a rather bad habit (I think) of saying whatever pops into my head at a particular moment. And the thought that popped out was “I was already in the corner”. I’m not sure why I felt like that except to say that it was one of those days that annoy the hell out of me. We’d had a wonderful weekend together. And mean, a really wonderful weekend.
I guess that I’m still just not able to figure out how to be quiet, think nothing and do nothing, when Sir needs me to be that. It really does feel like I’m in a “time-out”.
Sometimes he needs a cuddletoy, and I’m lucky enough to be that for him. So the fact that I’m sometimes not able to comfortably BE that for very long, still surprises the fuck out of me. I just don’t know where that disconnection starts in my brain. I certainly want to be with him when he needs me. But I’ve forgotten how to calm the waters in my own brain. To remain engaged and interactive with him, to talk to him, to love him...I had to forget how to just “be” by myself, in my own head. Surely there’s a happy medium somewhere. I just don’t know where to find it.
Either way, I remained belly-button-less this weekend, although I did manage to surprise Daddy with the depth of my devotion in other matters...
But it was the second thing that he’d said to me that got me even more concerned.
He said that I didn’t believe in god. Which was an interesting thing he’d said to me. We’ve had dozens of conversation about religion, but never have we had a conversation about whether or not I believed in god. I guess that with all my bitching about my own religion that he assumed that belief and the mechanics of worship were the same thing for me. I’ve questioned things a lot over my life. But I never thought that I didn’t believe in god. I started thinking, wondering what I could possibly have said that would make him think that? And then I remembered something Daddy said once. It doesn’t matter if you believe in god. He doesn’t care if you believe or don’t believe in him. He’s there anyway.
And I think that perhaps this could be a key for the cuddletoy problem that I mentioned earlier. My problem is that I think about all those Other things I should/could/would be doing instead of being a cuddletoy for hours at a time. But it really doesn’t matter if I have ten thousand things I *could* be doing....the only one that really matters is the one where we can be together.
But it was the last thing that he said to me that threw me for a loop....and I really didn’t know how to answer him when he said it. That one statement was enough to make me feel like a heel for not being able to be the cuddletoy. His question, “what did I do to deserve you?”.
And my only answer to that is darling....you loved me and you let me love you.
Monday, January 18, 2010
We talked a bit about my stuff (which includes a lot more than just shoes). We talked a bit about what I was going to do with my furniture, my tchotchkes, and the litter box. And we talked a bit about my job. And as we talked, I realized that I'm a little bit scared. I really wish I had that crystal ball. We're taking a leap of trust....that what we have together won't be messed up by being together a lot more of the time. I'm comfortable with the decision. I've been accused of jumping into things without thinking many times in the past. This time, I took some time to think about it. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that no matter the difficulties that might come up, there isn't anywhere else I feel more at home than with Daddy and the boy. We've spent a year building those strands that hold us together. Now it's time to begin the fabric that will make us both feel warm.
I've taken a walk around my apartment and wondered why I never got comfortable here. I don't remember when it seemed like "home" to me, but I did get used to having my own place. I had to leave too much behind. There wasn't room, and I lost "custody" of quite a few things. But now that I'm faced with losing even more of the things that make me happy, I'm starting to feel a little lost again. I remember moving in here, thinking that I'd never like living alone. And I don't. I dislike coming home to a silent house, with nobody to hug me after a bad day, with no one to cook for or eat with. One of the best things about spending time with Daddy is eating together. Talking. Knowing that when the silence becomes unbearable, he's there with a smile and a kiss for me. That's reason enough for me to want more time with him.
I've taken a look around my apartment and figured that most of the kitchen stuff, bathroom stuff and my clothes and (thankfully) my shoes, won't have problems. It's not a very big kitchen and most of the stuff can be used. I'm pretty sure my son will take the rest of it.
The furniture won't work. The tchotchke cabinet is too large, his table is better, and the couch and chair just won't work. That makes me a little sad, because that couch has seen me through a lot. I've slept on it for the better part of five years, and I still do it when I'm having nightmares. But I don't have those nightmares when I'm with Daddy. I'll probably sell all of it. Maybe I'll buy a smaller tchotchke cabinet and a chest of drawers that matches the one he has. Thankfully he's got an Ikea fetish, so I don't think that one will be a problem.
We've still got some things we need to work out. Some are practical: where my scrapbooking crap will go, which of my books I'll get rid of and which to take with me, is there really enough room in the closet for my shoes; cooking, cleaning, laundry....that stuff.
And the more important things: will we still make time to be in love? Can we maintain the communication, the trust, the love that we've found? All of these things are those which we'll have to make an effort to keep. And all of those things that make losing the couch pretty ok with me.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
As if Daddy weren’t distracting enough, he has to go and throw this into the mix. Don’t get me wrong....what he’s thrown in is definitely holding some major attraction for me, but I’m just not quite sure yet if it’s the idea or if it’s the fact that should I decide to accept his offer, I’d be waking up next to him every morning. Of course, I’d also probably be picking up his dirty socks every night too. If love isn’t blind....it surely must be anosmic.
I’ll admit that I’ve been curious off and on for a long time....about how an actual D/s relationship works for more than a few days at a time. Do submissives end up feeling like housekeepers, whores, cooks, and every other term you could think of? All those “job descriptions” people that you’d have at your disposal should you ever become rich as Trump, Gates, or Jobs?
I’ve had friends that have been in a long term D/s relationship and truthfully, it doesn’t look a whole lot different to me from any other vanilla one. I’ve seen them together shopping, vacationing, playing, and sitting together watching television. I’ve seen them raise children, lose parents, and stay together through illness, adversity, and financial obstacles. It really didn’t seem to me that anything was much different. Just that one person wore a nifty collar while the other could express an entire paragraph with one eyebrow.
But lately, I’ve wondered about myself. And of course, about Daddy. How would we end up doing things? Would I like it? Would we end up ruining what we have together or would it allow us to go further? OK, yeah, I’ll admit...I’m still a little hesitant. For two reasons.
One is that I’m deathly afraid of dirty socks.
Since the second one is actually far more important, I decided to take a step over to the pantheon of information (also known as my maven of all things, Mr. Google). That Mr. G is also the epitome of all things MISinformation, I decided to see if I could find some advice on how to worry about this properly. Of course... I mean.. .how to transition into this properly.
Thankfully, right near the top of my search was an article by Cecila Tan. Here’s the link in case you’d like to read it yourself.
Two thoughts that struck me were: roles sometimes are interchangeable and that pretty much you have to write your own manual for this. It’s an ongoing process and can’t be completely done with “pre-scene” negotiation. This is one time that top and bottom sometimes need to be merged with boyfriend/girlfriend, cuddler/cuddlee, and daddy/lilgirl.
Since this is pretty much what I’ve been saying to myself all along, I certainly feel a whole lot better about things now. I know what daddy is like. He knows me. We both know that sometimes I seem toppy because I have to. But we both know that I'm only one person and not an entire "professional staff". Maybe I'll just pick a couple of favorite roles and we'll see what happens with the rest. Captain Photon and the Nashuvian librarian thing notwithstanding
Now I’ve just gotta figure out who does those dishes and, more importantly..... if there's enough room for my shoes in the closet.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Although I am Daddy’s submissive, I suppose that I am a brat. As a fairly smart, semi-professional, capable, competent woman, I enjoy not only kneeling at his feet and taking care of him, but I also enjoy his willingness to let me always TRY to win the game. That I haven’t yet doesn’t make it less fun...and that I likely never WILL....doesn’t make me want to quit trying. Daddy himself says that he’s into “compliance play” and not “resistance play”. So that does put a different spin on my particular brand of brattiness. How to “comply” while still “resisting”? Daddy calls what I do “topping from the middle”. I like that phrase. It suits the quirkiness that happens when neither of us can plan what happens.
I’ll be the first to admit that I will sometimes push boundaries until Daddy gets that grumpy look in his eyes and pulls my hair. I’ll tease, flirt, and challenge him just to see if he can beat me at my own game (he always does). I love to laugh, let loose and be fairly and squarely defeated (or, with Daddy...sometimes NOT so fairly and squarely). I do things with Daddy that make him laugh. We enjoy each other. Word games, puns, and predicaments are a few of the things that we really enjoy when just lying next to each other and enjoying each other’s company. He knows where all those fun buttons of mine are, and he pushes them in random order as often as possible. For me, the mind-fuck, the thinking, the challenge to try, and the acceptance of my inevitable defeat are things that make being a brat worthwhile.
My brat style is mostly finding the loopholes. He understands about loopholes. His religion is full of them. It doesn’t make it any easier on Daddy, I’m sure, to have a brat whose day job is filled with rules, regulations, formality, and precedent...and filled with trying to find a loophole or a new way of looking at the same thing.
A while back, we’d been playing when he told me to take my clothes off and get my ass in the air. I know exactly what he means when he says that. I don’t know what he’ll DO to me when I’m like that, but the position is a very familiar one. It could be that I’ll be spanked, tied, tickled, made to suck his cock, otherwise tortured or even fucked. Any or all of them is fine with me. He’d gotten up to go to another room and told me he expected me to be ready when he got back. I’ve ALSO learned that his “right back” isn’t necessarily the same as my “right back”.
I jumped out of bed, tore my clothes off and got into position. But this time, it was damned cold in the house. Being naked anywhere wasn’t something pleasant, and because I have an extremely low tolerance for being cold, I lasted about 20 seconds before I started shivering.
This is when being a brat is a natural ability and something that I’ll never likely be able to change. I didn’t even think about anything except: a) how I could do what Daddy asked and b) how could I stop freezing my tits off?
I did what any normal person would do under the circumstances. I got naked, put my ass up in the air (the things he requested) AND I put the comforter over me (the Loophole).
When Daddy came back into the room, I really wish I could have seen his face. But his voice asking “WHAT THE FUCK?!” and his cracking up laughing was enough for me to know that, while he probably didn’t think that I’d complied, when he realized what I’d done....he also realized that I’d found that loophole that he’d left.
Does he like me finding the loopholes? I think he does. It makes our play fun, fluid, and gives each of us a chance to get what we really like from each other. I get to be his submissive by complying with his wishes (although I also get to feed that teeny streak of resistance that I enjoy), while he gets a woman who can make him laugh, think, and gladly pay for her transgressions.
I’ll just have to remember to hide the cane before doing anything like that the next time :)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Looking over the last year, I realized that our relationship had undergone a sort of metamorphoses. What began as something that I was so sure wouldn’t be more than superficial, ended up being one of the best begun relationships I’ve ever had. I’d like to think that it’s because I’d spent all that time trying to fight against the inclination to “jump in with both feet” and truly take the time to learn what I’d wanted. That’s a valuable lesson - don’t let “the getting of what you think you might want” get in the way of “learning if what you want is really what you want to end up with”.
I’d met Daddy nearly a year ago. In that time, I’ve changed a lot. Daddy was able to keep up with most of the changes because I haven’t really changed “me”....I’ve just let more of “me” out of the box. He’s been wonderful dealing with my transition in my own head of being his party bottom to his submissive, from his girlfriend to his partner, from liking him pretty well to loving him, and from being afraid of being hurt to making that leap of faith that I won’t be.
Other things changed as well. I’ve learned that I can express anything I want to, ask any question, and always be heard. I’ve learned that there’s someone that really wants to hear what I have to say, understands my love of words (even if I sometimes say them incorrectly or with a strange accent), and cares enough to keep pushing me to explore the thoughts and ideas that I’ve had in my head for so many years. I am finally free after all this time to simply be me.
I rarely think about “before” anymore. In fact, Daddy mentioned something about Jon last night and for a second, I didn’t know who the hell he was talking about. I’d truly forgotten. My life Before has become a pretty nice memory that I’ll always be happy to have, but it’s also one that looks a whole lot better if I only remember the nice pieces once in a while. So much is different now, and I much prefer the Now to the Before, that I’m finding it easier to just let it slip into the past. I can’t ever forget about it, but it doesn’t intrude on the present or future so much either. It’s sort of like that 25th class reunion. You always remember the fun stuff with fondness, but you don’t really want to repeat them or even hang out with the people you did them with. And you certainly don’t want to come face to face with the authors of the not-so-fun stuff that happened.
I’ve got a lot of things that I’m looking forward to this year. I have some decisions I need to think about, we have some things we’re going to need to spend some time discussing, I’ve got some other things that I want to try to explore. None of those things are bad, disturbing or even upsetting...they’re just things that we’ll eventually have to talk about given something Daddy asked me to think about a few weeks ago.
But first, I’ve got to figure out whether or not cats really ARE an emergency food supply. I mean...I know Daddy likes pussy and all....but I really thought he drew the line at furries!