Daddy Dearest

I dare you to find me someone without parental issues. Better yet, find me a woman without daddy issues. It is my belief that all of us carry some damage from our parents in some regard; whether it was not meeting basic needs, not buying us a pony, or allowing us to develop bad habits; we all have an issue with what our parents did or did not do to us or for us. My parents (who are divorced three and four times over) did their fair share of “damaging” me and my Sir’s parents (who were married for 40 some odd years) left him slightly skewed too. Polar opposite upbringings but we both have issues, albeit different issues, but issues nonetheless.

Notwithstanding, each parent did the best they could at the time with what they had. And each parent was better than their parents, was better than their parents, was better than their parents, et. al. And we believe we are doing better with our five than our parents did and we hope that they will be better parents than we are.

My daddy dearest came to visit this past week {well, I refer to him as my father actually}. He was my creator, my dad adopted me and Pop was well, my pop. My father is not an enigma. Typical young father, rethought the idea of fatherhood after my little round blue eyes and red head greeted him on my birthday so long ago. From there ensues the typical he said/she said and the he did/she did story. I really don’t care that you two didn’t like each other 48 years ago. Not my problem, but you should’ve thought about that before creating an angel.

As the story goes he dropped out of my life, signed me over to my dad and disappeared (by the way, found a new wife and had a new daughter). I was about twelve when he blew back into my life. Shock is an understatement. For all this time I thought my dad was dad/father and there was no other. As a young preteen trying to find my identity (and already dealing with depression and anxiety) this seriously messed with my head.

The next fondest memory I have of the father is living with him briefly and sharing a bed with him in his one bedroom apartment, because obviously wasn’t prepared for a child. There is a catch to this memory though. I was sexually inexperienced at the time and I remember awakening in the afternoons after a nap, in the middle of the night, or early in the morning; what was odd about these moments was my lower back was wet and something soft was rubbing against it. Hmmmm? I could never figure out what was going on.

In later weeks and months, father decided I needed to learn how to kiss. Which I was thankful for not too much later because I french kissed my first boy under a tree on the field at school. But I digress; father wanted me to sit on his lap and it was kisses on the cheeks, that progressed to kisses on the lips, that progressed to open lips, and finally french kisses. And I appreciated that too, as I’ve been told many times what a great kisser I am.

Many, many years later I came back to my father’s house for the holidays. I was gifted with a beautiful teal blue night shirt from Victoria’s Secret. I was encouraged later that evening to put it on and come to father’s bedroom to show him how it looked. He wanted me to come lay next to him so he could feel how soft it was. The next thing I know, my father is fucking me.

Granted I was of age and consented, but my head was permanently messed up. From that experience I subconsciously made the connection that sex = love, and that led to the continual pursuit of men to give me that fatherly “love”.

Goals for 47

Goals for my 47th year on this planet have been suggested, evaluated, discussed, and finalized. I struggled with not meeting the goals for 46, but after Sir went into extreme detail that I truly only had 8 weeks to complete them, it was just not feasible.

1. Fully and completely submit.

While I am a submissive, we have been lax in practicing the power exchange. I have been more into myself than I should be. However, I still mind my manners and follow many of the established protocols and expectations, I easily slip into the mindset of “I”.

2. Actively find sub space.

Sub space, for me, is a dissociation from the world around me. I can still see, hear, and feel but from a careless perspective. I’ve only hit it fully twice and have touched it several times. It is better than any orgasm or high that can be created otherwise.

3. Read 4 books.

I don’t read nearly as much as I used to or want to, thanks in large part to technology. This year, we are reading a classic novel, a non-fiction, modern fiction, and a book study.

4. Find my own part-time submissive.

I’m just curious of how much I can get away with. I’m not interested in managing them all day, every day…that requires too much effort. And I haven’t decided on a male or female sub yet.

5. Earn a certificate in something.

I love to learn and teach. And I’ve been out of school for a very long time and I miss it. There is no valid reason for me to pursue the next level of degree as I will not be returning to my career field. But taking classes and earning a certificate gives me the sense that I’m learning something and completing it successfully.

6. Learn to dance

Ballroom dancing. Just because I can.

7. Find a BDSM group in my area

We’ve moved to a smaller town and now need to find like minded people quietly and carefully here. There is no theater for me to walk into and perform, so I need options.

9. Nudist resort weekend

Want to go with us?

10. Gangbangs

This year’s goal is 3 gangbangs. In one of those, I must complete double penetration.

11. F/F/M

Sir wants a threesome. Has for awhile. We will complete it this year.

47 And Counting… Because 46 was so mundane.

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.

I didn’t come anywhere near 52. I’m lucky if I hit 10. I can honestly say I took no outward initiative to do so. I only put forth effort when Sir took me out to for the evening. It seems to be stuck in my head that we don’t play without each other, so I have been reluctant to pursue activities independently. However, this year has presented the opportunity for me to be “self-employed” and I should meet that goal.

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.

Another goal easily failed. Again I can claim lack of exposure to such men. However, had I again taken the initiative this goal would have been met as well. I’m still interested in pursuing this goal, because as I mentioned before submissive men are against nature.

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

It seems most women in our lifestyle don’t want to be the third. They either want to be the submissive or her toy, but not part of a third party where the submissive switches and uses her in lieu of the Dominant using her. There is a very unique personality there that will take time to find.

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”

I did read Freakanomics, which was really interesting and really made me think about how things work in the world.

To Kill a Mockingbird was slow and convoluted. But an excellent book and I wouldn’t mind reading the 2nd in the series.

My third book was Where the Crawdads Sing. A sad story with an excellent plot twist.

I would really like to read more this year, I feel like I don’t read nearly enough.

5. Have your limits pushed on a heavy impact play session. This I am getting much 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. 

Impact play has been not existent this year. And I expect pushing limits should be rather easy.

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

We never made it to a munch for one reason or the other. And due to a recent geographical location change, we need to find new groups.

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

And I still have it!

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.

I have found women friends in a different aspect of my life. And they all seem to be wonderful people. However, I haven’t found a woman in the lifestyle to befriend. We are all so messed up and I can only handle my crazy.

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

Another missed goal. Again due to mundane life, and moving. We’ll have to find new groups and locations.

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

Maybe the next trip to the theater.

Lost

We lost it. We lost the connection, the service, the rules, the protocols, the expectations, all of it. Gone. It wasn’t obvious, it just slowly slipped away from us.

It was and is miserable. I miss him. I miss the connection, the depth, and the passion.

June and Ward are lovely people. Everyone knows their role and what the expectations are. And I enjoy the mundane routines of June and Ward relationship: dinner on the table at 6 and the kids bathed and in bed by 9. But our relationship requires more than meeting him at the door with his whiskey, slippers, and newspaper. It requires an intense amount of intimacy, passion, and play. And that has also been lost in the midst of everyday life.

But there are other routines are missing too. Thursday night at ladies night and chasing the boys. Stopping by the theater before getting a steak sandwich. Friday nights at the dive bar catching some good music and a little fun.

I miss being his submissive/slave. I miss doing the things that he enjoys. I miss seeing the approval and satisfaction in his face. I miss his attention and pride when he turns me out.

Being lost sucks. Especially as a submissive. I can’t be lost. I make bad decisions. I can’t figure out what to do next. Being lost sucks.

So the plan is…to make a plan. Where was our best point? What made that the best point? What are the steps we need to take to get to that point again?

And I can’t wait to get found, trained, and owned again.

Normal Life

So it seems I dropped off the face of the planet, but in all actuality normal life got in the way for a little bit. The last several weeks have been children, summer, packing and moving.

Sir had worked out of town for the last year and because of me, he commuted back and forth daily. A five hour commute that no sane human would make for anyone, but Sir did it for me. I can never express how grateful I am for that year. Our relationship suffered many hardships that year, but with this move we are hopeful that things will come back to our D/s dynamic.

We are moved, unpacked, and settling in. Homeownership looks good on us and we’re happy to have found a new daily routine.

It’s a smaller town than the Gulf Coast, a little more rural, and less glitzy; with that being said, I don’t know how the exhibitionism will play out. We may need to go up the road to have our weekends out so that our image is protected in our new town.

I’m excited to be settled, I’m excited to be back to His angel.

The Benefits of me

It is easy to see how Sir has benefited my life. I’m no longer a serial-dater, I am physically healthier, I am more mentally stable, my children are happier, I am overall happier, I know my role in our relationship, I know my expectations, and most importantly I know my purpose.

Sir asked me this past weekend how I have benefited Him. And I couldn’t think of anything. And as this writing assignment deadline has approached ( with an hour and 20 minutes remaining) I still struggle to see how I benefit Sir, outside of service tasks.

Addressing the obvious first, service oriented tasks; while Sir is a grown man and capable of taking care of Himself. He does benefit and enjoy me laying his clothes out for Him, preparing His shower, and serving His plate.

I am a benefit to Sir, because no one can love Him like I do. Yes, women have loved Him (outside of family members), but the thought of not loving Him, sends me into a panic attack of the worst kind. I love Him as no other, there isn’t anything I want more than to love Him.

I am a benefit to Sir because outside of my God (I am a Christian woman) I worship Him and make Him feel like the King. I work hard to ensure the smallest of details are taken care of for Him. Even the simple act of opening His can of coke for Him, shows that I adore Him.

I am a benefit to Sir because of who I am. I am a hot mess, with passionate emotions, and big opinions. But I make Him laugh, we have great conversations, I am a beauty, and I make Him proud. And because of those few simple quirky traits of mine, I am His benefit.

Even though I don’t see it everyday, I am a benefit to Him just by being His.

Slave vs. Submissive

This may have been a topic before, but today I’m addressing it from a very different perspective. Up until recently I have always believed that a slave was a mindless piece of meat that the Dominant uses for whatever, whenever, wherever, with no input from said slave. I’ve usually hated the concept of slavery, for I am quite opinionated and selfish. I’ve also frequently asked Sir to limit my choices to A or B (Mexican or Italian for dinner, dress or skirt to go out) as making decisions when left to my own accord usually end up not going so well.

Sir has decided for us that I will now become a slave instead of a submissive. As the submissive I had entirely too much freedom and too much choice. So much so that I was frequently selfish, self-centered, rude and/or disrespectful (see bruises across my ass for evidence of recent disrespect episode).

I am very pleased that I am becoming Sir’s slave. I feel that this will lead to an incredible dynamic relationship for both of us. I am much more at ease and feel like I know my place all that much better. I am appreciative of Sir for making the decision for us, and for our future.

Weekends

Weekends are a valuable commodity in our home. Much like every other average household, weekdays are busy with work, summer camps, the preschooler, chores, errands, and appointments. However, what makes our weekends so incredibly special is that Sir works out of town everyday and commutes several hours a day. His morning starts before sunrise and ends well after the sunset. He is usually exhausted and has very little time and energy for anyone or anything.

Most weekends I try to allow Sir as much rest and sleep as possible during the day. At the same time we try to maintain some sort of social/dating life with each other. As we continue to be busy every weekday with something other than each other, we often tend to drift apart. We tend to believe the other is content with the drift and the distance, until one of us (usually me) breaks down and tries to reestablish our connections.

This weekend was a reconnect weekend. Friday was fun and easy. Our favorite local dive and a few drinks. Saturday was just as good with a new place to hang out listening to a local band; but then comes Sunday and it gets bad.

I mean really bad. Like I’m going to the psych ward or for a ride with the county sheriff. It ain’t looking good at all. And like most times when Wendolyn causes a major fight, I can’t remember what the catalyst was for the whole issue. My brain picks one little minute moment in time and hangs onto it and picks it apart to the microscopical level. I can’t remember why I was upset, I can’t remember why I walked out, I can’t remember why I didn’t get in the truck and started walking home. And I certainly don’t remember why I became so physically violent towards Sir (maybe because He wouldn’t let me cut myself).

I can’t ever get that way again. It scares us, it is bad for the relationship, it is bad for our mental health, it is unhealthy in all of the ways.

So as a result of this last breakdown, Sir will be changing my position from His submissive to His slave. And therefore the topic for my next post, what is a submissive versus a slave? How will I like the new role? What are my expectations of the new role and how do I think it will affect Sir?

Ideation

My writing requirements have been temporarily suspended due to some major life changes in the household. Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere.

Even though my requirement has been lifted, sometimes things pop in my head and I have to write. Today is one of those days.

So, everyone that has issues (drugs, alcohol, abuse, mental, emotional, etc., etc., etc) raise your hand. Yep, I got both in the air. I live with a few of these and it’s okay…most of the time.

I have been suicidal and attempted such more than once. “Normal” people don’t understand this depth of despair. I don’t wake up in the morning and sing with the birds, enjoy a cup of coffee in the predawn hours, plan a brunch with friends, and then master a new recipe for dinner.

No, I wake up and drag myself out of bed because the meds I need to sleep like a “normal” person make me groggy. I put my feet on the floor and stumble to the bathroom on an ankle that can predict the weather due to metal and surgery from an old injury. By this time, my brain has been able to begin engaging and it tells me, “fuck, here we go again; another day.” And then the mantra begins.

“It will be okay today. I will be fine. I won’t forget anything. I will get everything done. I will be on time. Drink water, not caffeine, read, eat healthy. Don’t get stuck on a tv show or Facebook. Don’t forget anything. Did you get everything done? Hey, remember that time in 1989 when you said that to your boyfriend. I think my brain hates me; I know my body does. I hate both of you.” And this tirade continues all day, everyday, loudly, and incessantly.

Then I think why bother, what’s the point of all this, life? I wake up, feed something, clean something, try to eat/drink normally, try to feel and act normally and end up just hating everything.

I recently disclosed to Sir that if I didn’t have so many people depending on me, I wouldn’t bother waking up, it would just be easier to check out. Don’t get me wrong, I have happy moments. But I have to work really hard to pay attention to those moments, savor them, and keep moving forward.

“Drink your water. Don’t forget to return that call. Do you remember that time when you were in 4th grade and that girl said that thing to you? I hate you…I hate you too.”

Fear and Loathing

So, there have been only two other submissives that I’ve talked to since I began this adventure as a submissive. And in those short “friendship” encounters I’ve learned that we all have a very similar personality; where we are insecure and need constant reassurance and acceptance from others, and more specifically from our Dominants.

Insecurity, fear of loss, with a healthy dose of self loathing lingers in our minds frequently. Are we good enough? Did we do “it” right? Is Sir pleased with “it”? Why am I like this? Why can’t I be different? Why can’t I be “better” or “normal”. You know the internal monologue. So, when life gets a little challenging with Sir those feelings are amplified, sometimes off the scale amplified.

I’ve learned that I’m more grey than black/white; Sir, being the polar opposite. When something is amiss He can see long term (the whole forest) and the end of the issue whereas I can only see short term (the bark on the tree) and this event is terminal.

With that terminality mindset, when I feel slightly threatened at losing Him; whether it be that He is going to leave me because of my innumerable issues or that He is no longer interested/bored or that He have found something better, my immediate reaction is to take off my collar or end our relationship. It is the stupidest thing ever, right? Oxymoron at its finest; I don’t want to lose you, but I’m scared that you’re going to leave me, so I’m leaving you first.

It’s a defense mechanism. That makes no sense, at all. I think if I quit and walk away, I can lash out and cause pain and fear, before you can do it to me. I can essentially turn off and act like I don’t care to inflict the pain and fear that I feel. It’s the “I hate you…don’t leave me” aspect of the Borderline Personality Disorder that inhabits most of my brain cells.

Rarely do I ever mean it. More often than not, it’s a cry for help because I can’t cope with the fear and loathing I feel continuously. Instead of saying “ok” agreeing with me and making plans to walk away, I need Sir to lean in and offer reassurance, love and support to quell that voice in the back of my head to be quiet.