It’s My Party

Close to the end of February, I’m having a very special party hosted by Sir. Not a dinner party with cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, salads, blah, blah, blah. Nope, this little gathering of ours has a much more sinister note to it. Sir is hosting my first gangbang, and I’m a bit apprehensive.

This event has been on His radar since we met. It has been something He has wanted for me for a little while now. I’m curious to see how much I can handle and increase my numbers. My last party had a small turn out, only five. This time we are looking for ten to fifteen. Woo Hoo. To date, I have six confirmed, two maybes, and one definitive no. I may consider more invitations this week, depending on pending responses.

My apprehension comes from the usual place of not ever wanting to disappoint Sir. I hold myself to a fairly high standard when it comes to my performances for Him, higher than He holds me. I always want to be as close to perfect as possible regardless of what I’m doing. I would be devastated if I had to yellow or safe word. The embarrassment that would come from that would be hard to get through.

I’m not sure what to expect; however, when the play collar goes on and I take a few deep breaths and He whispers what a good girl His angel is, there isn’t much I can’t accomplish. I do believe it will be rough and aggressive; but, I’m not sure how much kink is going into it either. Since everyone invited is from a particular website of like minded people, I’m sure there will be a little something extra.

And I’m assuming if all goes well there will be more parties like this upcoming one and more friends to be made.

Him

There have been lots of “hims” in my life. More than I can count (I think I stopped counting shortly after high school). There have been a wide variety of “hims”: the Bolivian tennis player, the Navy Seal, the diamond dealer, the co worker, the random guy in the bar, and countless others. But there has never been anyone like Him.

Our initial contact was through an online dating site (due to our age and chosen career paths, we don’t have many options to choose from). And after our first date, we seemed continually drawn to each other. He met the basic requirements: He had all of His teeth, a steady job, His own vehicle, and didn’t live with His mother (that’s another story for another day).

After meeting those basic requirements, came the best parts of Him. His intelligence is readily apparent in most conversations. He is easy to talk to and can carry on a great conversation for an extended amount of time that does not include talking about the weather or His truck. His physical presence is something else to be reckoned with. Not overtly stand out in a crowd kinda guy, but when He walks into a room His presence is known. Ruggedly handsome good looks, with a deep voice draws you in even deeper and demonstrates His command and control of a situation. His sense of humor takes a moment to grasp. Sometimes it’s a little difficult to grasp if He is teasing or get the gist of His dry off-color humor.

Once you get past all of that there’s the deeper side that only I get to see. The side that worries about me, has concerns for our children, and works to be a great boss and employee. There is the side that is always lost in introspective thought about what kind of person He is and how He can be better. And He is always questioning why and how things are the way they are.

If a girl could draw up a true wish list of what they wanted their boyfriend/husband/partner to be, it wouldn’t look like this one. Most girls are too superficial, “he needs to be good looking, funny, and make a lot of money.” I never planned to meet Him, I never planned to fall head over heels in love with Him, I never planned to be His submissive, I never planned to be His wife; but I could never imagine a day without His perfect presence.

Remnants

Remnants are small remaining quantities of something. I had remnants of former relationships when I came to my current Dom. Most disguised as “friends”, “just friends”, “someone to hang out with”. However, as benign as that may sound, it was an inaccurate state of affairs.

Most of those relationships ended for whatever inconsequential reason I could devise; yet, I did not want to completely walk away and be done with it. There was still some attraction, some lingering want. As a counselor once said to me, “go away a little closer”; it’s a paradigm that cannot be reconciled. It’s wanting to get away and find something better yet the fear of being alone is present too.

I kept one “friend” because he was a great conversationalist (when he was sober), but usually ended up using me. I kept another “acquaintance” just in case things changed. I kept another “friend” because we’d been friends since high school. I kept ex-husbands within arms reach as a safety net.

Deeply seated in the dark recess of my mind (where the demons that haunt me live), I was convinced that they wanted me still, that I was good enough, that I was acceptable. And the larger my entourage, the more I was loved. Some were there to stroke my ego, some were there to provide a safety net, some were there just because I could not draw a line in the sand. But all of this was at great cost. Certainly they would give me the attention I wanted – in that moment, but then it was “I’ll call you sometime” and the demons began to whisper again.

My Dom was initially frustrated with the remnants and did not understand why. To the normal person, it is difficult to explain. And through patiences, perseverance, and boundaries I have been able to rid myself of those remnants… and the demons are quieting.

Normalcy, Value and Fears

I tease Sir frequently that aside from our private lifestyle, He is the most normal person I know. I crave that normalcy and He is my perfect balance. I have struggled with depression, anxiety and a personality disorder most of my life so I’ve always looked to others to provide me with that; however,I usually choose relationships/men poorly and end up with more insanity than I started with. The saddest thing about His normalness, I don’t have a fucking clue as how to handle it. Give me an emotional abuser or mental manipulation and I can roll with it; give me calm, sane and balanced and I am at an utter loss as to what to do. But in the last 16 months of belonging to Him, I’ve learned to revel in the beauty of it.

And that has taught me the value of our relationship. Initially, I did some stupid things to attempt to destroy it (part of the personality disorder) but, as He remains steadfast in His approach and handling of me I’ve learned that there is no reason to sabotage the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve told Him that He is good for me, which he equates to an old pair of comfy sweatpants (and thereby translates it into the mundane). Whereas, I see it as I will always return to that favorite pair of sweatpants that keep me warm, comfortable and happy. There is no obvious way to determine the worth of a relationship like ours. But I know daily that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep Him happy and with me.

Often in relationships there is this push-pull dynamic. For example, I’ve leaned in and love you to the end of the Earth. Now that you know that, you get comfortable and lean away. In response to your distancing yourself, I lean away too until we both realize something isn’t right. A lot of times there is a fear, between both us, that if we give too much love or too much of ourselves, then the other won’t appreciate it and take it for granted. In my case, I crave even more. Because I wasn’t emotionally manipulated into craving Him nor was love withheld until I behaved properly, it’s that much more enticing to me.

I’m intrigued at how normalcy, value, and fears can all be stand alone thoughts, feelings, and attributes of a relationship; but, ultimately are so intertwined and dependent upon each other.

Buy/Sell/Trade

As a collared submissive, I am owned. We had a recent conversation about the type of property I am. The word commodity was part of the discussion, but I am not a raw material to be bought and sold on a whim. Nor am I stock where others have a stake in me. The conversation concluded with the fact that I, as a submissive, am more of a long term investment.

Many Doms spent countless hours, finances, and resources in grooming their submissives into the perfect possession. Think of us like you would a classic car. When we are found, we are usually battered, bruised, and barely drivable because of our histories. But once were put into the hands of the right owner, we come into our own, restored to a glorious creature even better than our original selves.

Now as that classically restored muscle car, we are a beauty in our own right. Many hours of labor and love were invested in us and it would be a shame to sit us out by the side of the road with for sale sign stuck in the window.

However, others maybe interested in your investment and given the opportunity to borrow us, but always with the understanding that we will be returned in a condition just as good as we were loaned.

Property comes in many different forms and many different values. I would have to argue that submissives are more valuable than the Hope Diamond.

Promiscuity

More often than not, my topics are chosen for me. However this week I had the option to choose my blog topic myself. Promiscuity is defined as a person who has promiscuous traits which in turn means an undiscriminating or unselective approach. Promiscuity sounds as if it could be applied to relatively anything, but in our society is usually applied to women who are, shall we say, slutty.

I cannot remember when this title was bestowed upon me. It wasn’t in eighth grade, at the sweet age of 13 when my virginity was lost. It may have been in high school when I was still trying to have a “normal” boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. However, I quickly learned that lots and lots of boys liked me if I did the sexual things they wanted.

By the time I was serving in the military, I had been labeled all the common derogatory names: slut, whore, loose, tramp, etc. And that was when I started to embrace the labels and enjoy my promiscuity. I mean, if a man can fuck everything that moves with heartbeat, why can’t I?

Eventually my reputation and weekend activities where known around my workplace and by my coworkers. So much so that on Monday mornings I was asked “So, Angel, who is the flavor of the week this week?” Rugby player, Navy Seal, Bolivian tennis player, flooring salesman, etc., etc. It was all a challenge and a game.

I would advise women, of all ages, not to fight their promiscuity. But to embrace it and enjoy it.

Impact Play

Impact play is about one of the worst things, shy of public humiliation, that I can do in our Master/Dominant – slave/submissive relationship. I don’t like it; it hurts, and I get extremely angry about it most times. If you’ve seen some of my FetLife photos, you’ll notice I’m fair skinned and although you haven’t seen my face, I’m fair eyed as well. Science says that people of my German-Irish descent, do not tolerate pain well. I agree. And the anger is most certainly not directed at Sir, but more at myself for allowing someone to “beat” me with whatever implement He feels inclined to use at the time.

But there are two responses, one physiological and one psychological, that occur after a fairly decent impact session. And I have yet been able to figure them out. So let’s look into them; physiological responses first.

My body betrays me every single time when it comes to impact play. While outwardly I am crying, cringing, shivering, shaking, wailing and all out showing signs of dislike; my cunt gets soaking wet, almost to the point of running down my leg. The first few times this occurred, I was baffled. How could I like this? How could I like this Dominant striking me with things that caused me pain?

I think it may have to do with the repitilian portion of our brains. While outwardly I despise this act; deep down the portion of the brain that focuses on survival is ultimately stimulated by the fact that this big, strong man has chosen me as His mate and that if we chose to procreate, the offspring would have an excellent chance of survival.

I also think it has to do with the natural order of men and women. As each belt lash comes across the most sensitive areas of my skin, I begin to realize this is my purpose as a woman; to serve and please Him.

Which leads me into the psychological portion. This is a definitive emotional event. At first, I am playful and engaged. Several strokes later I begin to shut down. Finally, as things wrap up I’m writhing in pain and crying out. Afterwards there is more crying, soothing cool towels, snuggling with Sir, and eventual exhaustion. However, the next day I am calmed (anxiety doesn’t rear its ugly head), I am focused (the internal chaos is quiet) and I am re-centered, ready to resume my role and rightful place.

I feel that the end result of being “reset” is again tied to the natural order of how men and women should be in their roles. But moreover, I think the emotional breakdown is most effective in obtaining my balance again.

Although impact play is one of my least favorite tasks, I am appreciative of the effects.

Natural Tendencies

I can’t give you a specific date that I decided I was a BDSM “submissive” . There’s no magic potion or formula to create a submissive. We just..evolve.

When God created me, He made me with natural submissive tendencies. We all have tendencies of some sort. And mine are to be submissive in most settings and relationships. As far back as I can remember I’ve picked friends with more outgoing, bossy traits (what I now know to be dominant traits). In fact, I remember I had two friends in fourth grade, and every once and awhile there would be a power struggle between the three of us girls to see who was in charge of the group. I rarely was and usually relented to my best friend. Which was completely acceptable to me.

Later that same year, I had a crush on a boy. He was sweet and quiet and shy. We “went together” (as was the saying back then) for a little while until I discovered he was just too soft and sweet. Then came Alex. He was loud, outspoken and usually in trouble for something. Totally crushed on him, but he wouldn’t give me the time of the day; but my best friend…he was all about her. So, I relented or submitted; to both of them.

As I reflect over my school career, I see this pattern develop. Bossy girlfriends and rebel boyfriends. And human patterns don’t usually change as we get older.

In my late teens and early 20s, I figured out how to use sex to get attention from men, and thus began the practice of sexual submission. My theory was that I’d try anything once. And that seemed to gain me quite a bit of popularity in certain circles. I allowed men to use me as they saw fit and rarely, if ever, complained about the acts or degradation. I was getting the attention I craved and fulfilling a primal instinct for them, so no one was getting hurt.

It wasn’t until recently that I learned servitude in submission as well. It seemed harmless to me that I was picking up beer on my way over, or washing a load of laundry that I’d taken back home, or cooking dinner. And after all of that domestication, became quite the whore afterwards.

Submission is easy. It brings order to my chaos; calm to my anxiety; and happiness to my depression. It allows for a natural order of things. It provides a standard operating procedures. Expectations are clear and concise; failure results in punishments. I can’t imagine being any other way.

My Bucket List for My 46th Year on This Planet

According to my Dominant/Master angel’s annual goals are as follows:

1. Make 52 different people cum. I find it amusing that Sir has decide on “people” and not just men.

2. Dominate a man with impact play. I abhor submissive men. I cannot fathom why a man would be like that. So this shall be an easy task.

3. Dominate a woman with impact play. This one is much harder as I tend to take a motherly role with other women.

4. Read three books two of which I choose.
A. Freakanomics
B. To Kill a Mockingbird
C. Your choice I think I’m going to read “The Wettest County in the World”

5. Have your limits pushed on a heavy impact play session. This I am getting my h better at. In the past year, I’ve gone longer and harder than ever before. I tease Sir that I want his arm to get tired before my ass does.

6. Attend 4 munches. Going this Saturday to my first.

7. Receive a collar. Done! Earned and rewarded this past week.

8. Befriend two women one of which in the lifestyle. Possibly my least favorite task for the year. I don’t like women. I don’t trust them and really have no use for them.

9. Attend 3 dungeon parties. And try some different things. Although I’m very fond of the cross.

10. Have a gangbang with double penetration. In all my sexual escapades, I can’t believe I haven’t accomplished this yet.

Ownership

An important factor in a Master/slave or Dominant/submissive relationship is ownership. He owns me; no different than owning a pet, a couch, or a truck. And while that may seem odd and degrading to most “normal” people, it is the most freeing sense of calmness and peace that any human can attain on this little blue planet.

Ownership in this lifestyle is precious. It is not meant for the Master to abuse or control the slave; nor degrade, humiliate, or punish. It is meant as a sense of commitment and security for both of us.

See, our lifestyle of Master/slave is a bond much deeper than what we call “vanilla” relationships. It is deeper and more intense than the average relationship because of that ownership. Follow me on this one: He has a 2018 Chevy Silverado Z71 sitting in our driveway, it is a VERY nice truck. He isn’t going to take that truck mudding, damage the tires, scrape the paint, or tear up the leather. Just the opposite, the truck is a valuable possession. It’s parked in a safe location, always locked, oil changed often, washed and waxed frequently. And because that truck is owned and provides a service, it is well cared for.

The same is true for owning me. I am not beaten or verbally berated; I am cherished and adored and because of that, I will do whatever I can to make Him happy.

For example, I lay out his clothes for work daily. When I meet that expectation, I am kissed on the forehead and told “thank you, angel.” I take a deep breath and revel in His pleasure and move forward with the day knowing I’ve done well for Him… and that my friends…makes it all worthwhile.

Bio

I am a native southerner; born in North Carolina and raised in Mississippi. My mother and father divorced when I was an infant and my mother remarried before I entered kindergarten. That one lasted until I was about 11 years old. I was raised from that point forward predominantly by my mother and grandmother. My mother married again when I was about 15 years old. So to say I come from a long line of dysfunctional relationships is putting it mildly.

My mother was less than kind or affectionate. She tolerates me (even to this very day). I always felt like I wasn’t wanted, I wasn’t good enough, or didn’t perform to her standards. Unfortunately, that damage carries into life today.

I am a mother of three girls and two bonus boys. And while I don’t carry on the dysfunctions of my parents, I’m sure I’ve blessed my children with a set of issues all their own.

For all intents and purposes, I have been successful in life. I served eight years in the military, earned a bachelor’s degree, worked in corporate America, earned a master’s degree and taught in public education. All while battling dysthymia, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder. In short, on the surface everything looks great, while inside utter chaos rages.

As of today, the chaos continues to rage internally, and sometimes externally. I am no longer employed outside the home (which I am extremely thankful for). But I fill my days with a variety of activates to keep me busy…including this new blog.

And all of this dysfunction and mental illness is what ultimately led me to the lifestyle I now live.

Introduction

Who I am…or am not

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

This is not your ordinary blog. As I am no ordinary person.

Lost and Found, Part 2

After being miserably lost for what seemed like forever and the perception that it would be for the rest of our lives, we had to make a move or continue to let our relationship/dynamic continue to die. The first solution came in the most unlikely of places, church. It seems contradictory to our lifestyle, but the two peacefully coexist within and outside our home.

Daddy and I chose to pursue an activity that measured our personalities and our perceptions of our marriage. I was not surprised when the results showed Daddy and I are polar opposites. He is very stern, focused, driven, decisive. I, on the other hand, am flighty as a bumblebee. (Isn’t that quite the perfect match?). And the quiz on our marriage perceptions allowed us to understand more deeply how each of us viewed our commitments. These results opened the door to conversations that allowed us to better understand each others thoughts, feelings, misconceptions, hurts and ultimately healing.

In addition to the “normal” pursuit of repairing the dynamic, we found a second solution, a weekend trip to our favorite BDSM club. Daddy was very nervous about this trip because in the past I could not behave myself and submit as I’m expected to do (remember, I explain it as a kid in the candy store with no budget). This weekend was very different.

Daddy was concerned that I would sit and pout because I wouldn’t be able to pursue every swinging dick in the place. This weekend Daddy was everything to me. If I moved away, I asked permission. I maintained my same social butterfly, friendly, outgoing self with out being disrespectful. My “Angel” collar was worn with pride and not removed until the end of the night and back at home. I didn’t drink to much. I was not resentful or angry. I was calm and focused on Him.

[I’m assuming that most submissives don’t have to work so hard to focus on their Masters to try meet his every need or want. I do. I have to focus and work hard to ensure I put myself away and sequester the selfish side of me.]

And the best part was the impact play session that ultimately pulled us back together. Late in the night, I finally asked if it was time and could we go. His excitement was palpable and made me giggle a bit. I was expecting Daddy to take me back to the dungeon and use His favorite stocks (or maybe an alternate set). But he surprised me and took me to the St. Andrew’s cross…on the stage! Dead center for everyone to see Him (and me). My exhibitionist side was thrilled.

It was one of our better sessions. Cooperation, playfulness, rebellion, communication led to a great play session. Tuned into each other, the crowd faded into the background, not worried about who was watching or what they thought. Slow and steady to the ultimate peak of pain, arousal, and let down. Although Daddy landed a couple of strokes on places that are extremely painful, the anger did not come up as usual, but the realization that Daddy was getting tired and his practice was waning finished our session successfully. Daddy took me down from the cross and cared for me in the best ways. But the most erotic point for me was to see the glazed look in His eyes that let me know he had reached the pinnacle of pleasure.

We have been found. We are healing. Past hurts and hang-ups have been cleared up. We are focused on what needs to be done to continue growing in our relationship. And I am pleased to be back in my proper place.

Lost and Found, Part 1; Losing

It is easy to get lost in any relationship. The mundaneness of everyday life easily seeps in and replaces all the excitable parts. Washing laundry, cooking dinner, sweeping up dog hair, taking the kids to summer camp, picking the kids up from summer camp, yard work, sit on the couch, watch TV, go to bed, repeat. There are no longer any fancy dinner dates, exploring local dive bars, weekend trips to our favorite hangouts or any other activity that puts us alone together for any significant amount of time.This isn’t uncommon in any vanilla relationship however, it is extremely uncomfortable in a power exchange.

Since my last writing in February (and my last failure at the power exchange) our relationship had all but died. We had become June and Ward Cleaver. Amicable, existing in the same space, respectful, kind, meeting minimal expectations, putting on a good face for the kids; but no love, sex, compassion, intimacy or understanding. The chasm between Daddy and I was great and getting greater.

But at the same time, it was as if the Cold War had landed in the middle of us, June and Ward. Both of us tense and edgy, not knowing what the other was thinking or feeling, ready to engage in an argument at any moment, and not willing to come to the table to discuss the issues at hand or broker a treaty. (Kinda fun when two stubborn, bull headed people live together.)

Daddy will never quit…anything, ever. He would rather die trying, literally, than say He quit and walked away. I, however, will pack my shit and walk away at the first hint of difficulty in a relationship. And this is where we were. He had leaned out or moved further away from me. And I was there too. I had been tired of trying to get his attention for awhile and I really just didn’t care anymore. Not that I was looking for next, unless that was a cat, I really did not care.

He worked more. Ten hour days mysteriously turned into 12 hour days. The phone calls stopped. The text messages stopped. The only communication throughout the day was if one of us needed the other to complete a task, like call the bank. There was no excitement when he came home, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but in this house with me.

I kept busy with minor tasks and activities to keep me preoccupied so I didn’t start making a plan of “escape”. I tried to maintain some semblance of protocols or expectations, granted with little to no effort. It seemed I wasn’t being held accountable and He had given up on me. So, with that thought in my head, I did the basics and that was it. And we continued to exist.

Daddy and I were to the point of misery. Something had to give. I knew it had to be me that opened this door and really find the root cause of what was so terribly wrong in our relationship before the resentment killed us.

I Am Not The Best Submissive

I almost lost my place. I almost lost my Master and Dominant. I almost lost my collar. And came very close to Sir removing his “her King” tattoo, and Him searching elsewhere for His wants and desires And I am the sole reason. Notice the predominant pronoun used in those last few sentences. In a power exchange there should be no “I” in anything, and I have not been able to put my selfishness away in the nearly two and a half years of this relationship. Its death was imminent.

The selfishness I demonstrate has been long standing and has been no secret to Sir. He knew it very early on before we became Deviant and Angel. I have harbored that trait since I was very little. I will tell you quickly that I do not like to share, especially food. (Doesn’t that get interesting when you live a lifestyle of multiple play partners? More on that in a minute.) However, I think a lot of my selfishness early in this dynamic stemmed from several internal issues I carry/ied. I have an overwhelming fear of being abandoned and not being good enough. Overwhelming in the sense that it is literally paralyzing. I will fall into a panic attack and become self-sabotaging at the slightest hint (albeit not actual) of abandonment. And in knowing this about myself, I usually try to ensure I get mine before anyone else gets theirs.

Sir and I like to go the clubs; the BDSM or swingers types. We have found a place near our home that we love. The people are ridiculously friendly and they are all very accepting of every type of kink. Everyone talks to everyone and mingles around. There are places for impact play, roping, voyeurism, privacy, and even a good ol’ fashion stripper pole. I usually ask what are my rules and expectations for the evening and I usually get, “Go be a butterfly” (I’m the outgoing one in this exchange) or “You can’t tell anyone no”. In my brain, all limits and requirements are off the table. I’m free! I feel like a five year old in the candy store with no budget. And I’m in the mood to shop and gorge myself.

And that’s when it all goes to hell. Sir has asked certain things of me in the BDSM aspect of our relationship that I have never put forth any effort to achieve. (Please see above regarding insecurities.). However, Sir always ensures that I get what I want, above and beyond most other things. For example, this particular evening, we stumbled across a roper, which I have been fascinated in. Sir made sure I had the chance to be the rope bunny.

However, when it came time for me to go play with another man, I invited his wife and not Sir. Major failure. Sir, has always wanted a threesome where I am the top to her. When Sir stated he wanted an impact session with another woman I said, “Ok, go have fun!”. Major failure, again. I was supposed to attend.

The issue that runs deep and that I have never seem to have gotten my head wrapped around is that Sir has always considered US in this whole dynamic. I have still seen us as separate people. Which makes no sense because in our vanilla life with kids, we are inseparable. We even follow each other around the house. So it makes sense that the vanilla dynamic would easily translate into the BDSM dynamic. For me, it doesn’t.

After another weekend trip that turned horrible and resulted in another argument, I realized quickly that I needed to make some changes that truly makes this dynamic a power exchange. I had to give up my selfish ways and put my King back on his throne.

I have vowed that I will consciously work every day to put my selfishness away and think more about what He wants. I will consciously work to go above and beyond regular service tasks to find additional ways to make Him feel like the King He is. I will consciously work on not thinking of myself as being “set free” the next time we attend a club or party, but more of how I can make Sir’s experience better. Sir has agreed to establish stricter expectations and hold me accountable (hence me finishing this writing at 530 in the morning).

It is terrifying to know that your BDSM relationship is on the brink of death. That fear is much more powerful than the fear of any insecurity. I have agreed to this relationship and Sir has always, without fail, held up his end of the agreement. Now I need to.

9

Balance

Where is the balance? Where is the balance between “regular” life and “deviant” life? If I lean too far into the normal side of things, then the deviance is lost. If I lean too far into the deviance then I feel like I’m neglecting normal life.

Of course having children in the home makes things even more challenging. How do I act the roll of slutty submissive while putting macaroni and cheese on the table for the preschooler? Or how do we have any type of impact play while the teenager is 10 feet away in her room?

I read other blogs with daily collaring rituals or daily discipline rituals, clothing requirements, and other such deviant lifestyle acts that we cannot accomplish because of our household make up.

Do we give up the 24/7 and just live it while the kids are out? Do we just live it when we attend parties and events?

I can’t do back and forth. It’s easy for me to forget my place on a normal day, let alone trying to remember if I’m Angel or if I’m mama.

So, where is the balance? How do I stay the submissive, be the slut, and sling chicken nuggets?

Disobedience

As a three year old submissive I could make many excuses for why I am frequently obstinate in obeying Sir’s commands and denying His requests. However, I don’t think there are any “real” reasons why I do so.

One theory we frequently discuss is that I am safe, secure, loved and accepted in this relationship and therefore, it is easy for me to deny Him. I completely disagree with this theory. While I am all of those things and more in our relationship, I do not take it for granted nor do I attempt to abuse those gifts.

Another theory, that isn’t often spoken about but more implied is that Sir isn’t the “right type” of Dominant for me. He suspects that I need/want a harsher dominant (as I’ve experienced before). I disagree with this theory as well, because harsher isn’t better. If that was the case, then I would seek out such a dominant.

Quite simply I disobey and deny because I’m allowed to do so. Sir has a habit, of not only telling me but the children too, “why don’t you do XYZ”; which to me sounds like a suggestion and not a command. It comes across as optional.

A recent example of such was the party we went to the weekend before last at a lovely little club we found. They have a bench that Sir liked for impact play. When He was ready, He suggested “Why don’t we go back there?”. I put up a bit of a fuss and continued laughing, talking, and playing; nothing more was said and there were no consequences.

I don’t need, nor do I want, a different type of Dominant. I want the one I have. I like the way the one I have now leads, teaches, trains, disciplines, loves, adores, and guides me. I do not need Him to be harsher, heavier, meaner, distant, less affectionate, or less loving toward me. I do need Him to tell me exactly what He wants, when He wants, and how He wants it.

I thrive on clear, precise instructions. Suggestions or hints leave me too much room to make my own decisions and therefore, more often than not, the wrong decision. I thrive on rules, expectations, and guidance. I don’t do well with many options. I need parameters within which to work/perform. I need my Dominant, not another.

Self Awareness

According to most research, humans don’t become self aware until approximately 18 months of age. Self awareness is loosely defined as how humans interact with their surroundings and, more importantly how we interact each other. Which then divides into awareness of our selves in public and in private. A power exchange relationship causes a constant state of self awareness for the submissive partner.

Of course, like most people, I don’t remember developing my self awareness. I remember kindergarten and my clothes and shoes being different the other kids. I remember first grade and sitting in the middle of the classroom. I remember second grade and sitting in the hallway because I talked so much in class. I can remember so many other occasions throughout my life were I was acutely aware of myself and my surroundings.

I’m not sure when the insecurities began creeping in. Maybe around fourth grade when I started discovering boys were cute and shouldn’t necessarily be beaten up. But they landed with the intention of never letting go and have grown exponentially since then. It could have also been right around the same time that my “daddy issues” developed (another writing for another time). These two factors further led into a deeper sense of self and attempting to be “perfect” for everyone.

Self awareness also contributes to self preservation. Quite simply if we are aware of our surroundings, public self awareness, then we are aware of any potential dangers.

In a Dominant/submissive relationship, the concept of self awareness needs to be put away and the other partner needs to be put first, nearly always. “I/me” needs to be put away and He needs to be considered in all actions.

I struggle with considering Sir in all of my daily actions. I tend to be quite selfish, as I’m sure most people can be. And I think that the development of my self awareness from a very young age (being teased in kindergarten), the development of “daddy issues” during my formative teen years, and ultimately trying to protect myself from further emotional pain prevent me from considering Sir frequently.

I often respond to his requests with answers such as “no”, “I don’t want to”, or “I’d rather not”. Which as a submissive, is the last thing that needs to be said. These responses are usually regarding impact play sessions, or other BDSM acts. However, I agreed to this relationship and all the aspects of it, so I should not deny Him His requests.

More thought has to be given as to how to overcome this deep seated selfishness. I have to learn to put myself away and ensure I indulge His every desire and let myself serve willingly and cheerfully.

Define “Normal”

The word “normal” is seriously offensive. Who is to say what normal is? What is normal for one person is not for another. Humans, while all similar, are all so different so it is nearly impossible to determine normal.

Normal in our relationship has ranged vastly from one end of the spectrum to the other; from extremely mundane to much more structured and disciplined. It ebbs and flows with the beats of everyday life. Work and family usually drives the tempo of the lifestyle we lead.

For the longest time, life had slowed to a mere roommate existence. Early morning wake-ups, coffee, long commute, intense work days, long commute home, and passing out on the couch in front of the television. Weekends weren’t much better. The relationship was dying and was in need of life support.

Dramatic changes in life has taken us back to the power exchange that we really crave and love, our normal. Rules and expectations with consequences for failing to meet requirements have returned. Impact play with total release for both has returned. And all is right in the world again.

Mind and Body

Impact play is my least favorite form of service to Sir. However, I do what I’m told, but not always with a smile on my face. I know the positions He likes and I know the way He lays His strokes across my backside. I know that He likes when I let go and let out all of the emotions I have pent up since the last impact session. And I know He likes the way my body responds to His touch or to the strokes of the implement He uses. Both my mind and body defy me and betray me every single time. My words say I dislike it, but my body and mind say “yes”!

We’ve learned from our play sessions that there is something that balances us physically in this act. We’ve attributed it to the adrenaline rush before and during the impact session. Followed by the dopamine dump afterward, the physical response for both of us is the most amazing high that can ever be achieved. And after those rushes we are physically exhausted and more physically affectionate than before.

On any given day, in my mind there are squirrels on acid at a rave, screaming and they’re trying to get out…all at once. I struggle to complete tasks, remember details, make phone calls, brush my teeth, and any other daily tasks. I can’t pay attention to save my life. And impact play corrects all that too.

After a session, I am calm, I am quiet, I am focused, I am motivated, and I am more ready to put myself away and serve Him more and better. I don’t know if it is related to the brain chemicals or the emotional release or the soreness or the complete subservience and surrender to Sir, but I do know I need it and revel in the silence found in my brain afterward.

Sadists and masochists are special people and when we find each other we form an intense bond through a dynamic power exchange. Through that bond of trust and respect we fulfill the parts of us that are missing. Whether it is impact, roping, or any other taboo game that we may enjoy, we are able to release our emotions, have intense physical responses, and calm all the chaos for whatever reasons those may be, albeit brain chemicals or sore asses.

Pain with Impact

My first decent impact play session since I don’t remember when was this weekend at a party at a new club we found.

I was bare ass naked, bent over a contraption with my ankles and wrists secured and a bar across my midsection.

After several flogger swings and belt lashings, I asked Sir to help me… with my hair clip…because it was hurting me.

Can you imagine?! In the middle of a scene and we stop because my head is bumping against the wall in front of me and my hair clip hurts me…

Not that my ass is on fire and bruising or that my back is tingling… but my head hurts because my hair clip is poking me.

And the hot mess I am continues!

To Be or Not To Be

Monogamy versus non-monogamy has been an ongoing issue in our power exchange relationship, as I’m sure it is in many other dynamics. I need to feel safe, secure, and confident in my role as his submissive angel. We’ve only played with two other females in two years; but I’ve had the opportunity to fuck several males and usually of my choosing. When Sir chooses a female to use, I come unglued at the seams and stay that way for awhile. It causes me to question everything about myself and our relationship.

Since the very beginning of our relationship, Sir has requested a FFM threesome. And since the beginning I have put it off in some way or the other. Excuses have ranged from the fact that I can’t mentally or emotionally handle it, or it would change/damage/end our relationship, to my judging the women he chose.

It has been called to my attention by Sir that I have a double standard. Uh-huh, I sure do. And I usually do, with most things in my life. It’s not something new, and I know it isn’t the best trait to have.

After some great conversation this weekend, I accepted the fact that I do have this double standard; and that as a submissive, that is unacceptable. The women Sir has picked previously to me have been less than me (I perceive them to be trashy, nasty and not in a good way). Sir has done this intentionally to protect me; to ensure that I feel safe and secure in my role and that the other female there is to be used and dismissed.

We are moving back into our Dominant/submissive relationship quickly. The world is coming back into alignment and I’m ready to take my submissiveness to a more selfless level for Sir.