Category Archives: my life

When 2 halves don’t make a whole

I am sure the few readers I have might have noticed that I haven’t been writing much lately. Partially it has been that I have not had much time alone. And it’s very hard to keep an anonymous blog when your loves are looking over your shoulder at what you are typing. Also, vanilla life has gotten busy. But in addition…

I have not been doing much in the way of kinky play or D/s. In fact, both of my relationships have been gearing down from those things and steering in a much more vanilla direction. I do still have some kinky play times and some D/s in my life. But it isn’t nearly what it was a few years ago. So I simply have less to write about.

I wish I could say that I’m happy with this situation. But it seems that I keep finding myself in this kind of situation. (This has not been my first foray into multiple partners.) One, two, three partners, and very little kink in my life. You would think that with more partners, you would of necessity be getting more play. More D/s. Apparently it doesn’t always follow. The only way that I have found more kinky play (though not more D/s) with multiple partners are the times I have done more casual play with friends.

Now I find myself feeling that I am approaching a crossroads. I find the older that I get, the harder it is for me to find chemistry with anyone. The less often I am attracted to anyone on even the most rudimentary level. The less I have in common with any one person. And yet the more I find that what I need in my life is one (or two) permanent and committed relationship(s) with plenty of authority transfer and kinky play times. And I find myself needing someone (or someones) who has plenty of time to spend on me.

What I currently have are two halves of that equation. I have two partners with whom I have things in common and they have been fairly committed and permanent. But the kink and D/s have been fading into dust. They have become… are becoming… half relationships. Half relationships with men that I still love. And that aren’t filling my needs.

The Husband accepted a job that has taken him to another state. Our relationship has become long-distance. It was supposed to be temporary, but after a few years, it becomes clear that it isn’t. He is happy and doing work that suits his talents. This is wonderful! For him. But it is slowly killing our relationship. And it has already killed our kinky play and D/s. He no longer feels like mine. He feels like a handsome stranger that I want to get to know but can’t. Not enough time.

The Wild Thing was never going to be a forever relationship. There are too many things that he wants from life that I can’t deliver. And as those things return to his consciousness after the NRE and rose-colored-glasses phase of our relationship fades (we have had quite a long time, over 2 years of NRE and rose-colored-glasses), he doesn’t feel like mine either. He feels like a horse comfortable in the yoke but ready to start running free. And I want him to be able to run free. I never want to hold anyone back from being who they are.

But that leaves me with two vanilla halves of a relationship that don’t… can’t add up to a whole for someone who NEEDS the passionate whippings. The willing servitude. The concession of will. The hours of time together. And the joy in all these things must be mutual. When the joy and the enthusiasm is one-sided, I lose my energy and will to sustain things on my own.

I need a partner in crime. Someone or someones who glory in bending to my will and being the canvas for my passion. They must be in it with me. I am sad that I don’t have these things.

But I am also hesitantly hopeful that those things are out there. And that I can and will find him. Or them. And hesitantly hopeful for the men I love to find whatever it is that they need as well. Because I don’t think it is me. And I am cowardly. Because I have no idea how to go about speaking about this with them. I do still love them. I don’t want to damage them. And I can’t tell if staying together will damage them more than parting our paths.

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Running List of Things I Want Authority Over

This is not a comprehensive list. Contents subject to change without notice. The term “you” in no way implies the personage of the reader of this document without consent of both parties. Blahblahlegaleseblah…

 

What you eat & drink when you are with me.

What audiovisual entertainment we utilize when together such as television, movies, concerts, plays, sports, etc.

Orgasms & genital/anal touching.

Sex acts. Frequency, length of the sex acts, who participates in sex acts, and type of sex acts.

Play. Frequency, length of time, and types of play.

Body hair & facial hair. Preferably all the time but definitely when we are together.

What you wear under your everyday clothing and also all kink event/playtime clothing.

Decor and arrangement of furniture in any place I will be living for more than a short time. Having a “man cave” is fine as space allows.

How the towels and sheets are folded any place I will be living for more than a short time.

Position of the toilet seat/lid any place I will be staying for one night or more.

Whether or not we have pets of any kind.

Who does what chores when.

When food/beverages occur when we are together.

Who drives what vehicle and the route we take to get where we are going.

Any major household purchase such as roofing, furniture, or appliances.

Any household services such as yard service or cable television.

This is my life: I am a slave and you will do Master things to me right now!

When I first entered the kink scene, I thought I was a slave. I really believed that was where I fit in. It wasn’t, of course. But I hadn’t done any soul searching on the subject since I was brand new. I had no natural instinct about it. Perhaps because it all happened very suddenly and there were so many things happening at once. Perhaps it was because all of the examples of kink that I had before me were M/f. In the end, it doesn’t matter why, it matters that I wasn’t a slave. I wasn’t even submissive. What matters is that I did think about it eventually, after I slowed down enough to quit doing and start thinking. What matters is that I did find that natural instinct after I was not simply overwhelmed with delight in finding something that actually stirred me sexually.

So when I say that sometimes people are a little confused about exactly where they fall on the kink spectrum, I know from personal experience that it happens! When I say that sometimes, someone needs to figure out what actually works for them… brings them joy or personal fulfillment… turns them on… I know what I’m talking about. I think it’s wonderful when people are basically born with a whip in their hand. Those people who have these feelings or desires very early on have it all figured out by the time I was just stumbling into kink. They’re lucky.

I was not lucky so much as I was confused. I didn’t mean to mislead anyone. I genuinely thought I was great slave material! I was convinced I would make some nice man a wonderful slave. I was dead wrong. I am only happy that I didn’t have many dominant partners before I figured out that I was a dominant myself. And I thank the people who helped my on my journey in figuring that out. I admire their patience. I admire their restraint as well. Nobody yelled at me or tried to force me to be something I’m not. I haven’t always been so kind to the confused people in my life. I’m certainly not perfect. My past partners were merely trying to get me to do the things I said I wanted to do. To be the way I said I wanted to be.

But, of course, I wasn’t. And I didn’t want to do those things. I thought I was those things. But there is a world of difference between bottoming and submitting. And while I could manage bottoming, I never managed submitting. It was easy enough to get me to do the things I brought up. But I wasn’t very good at doing the things they wanted me to do. Sure, I might try it once to see if I liked it. But the problem was getting me to do anything more than once. And that was just in the context of play. I can’t even imagine the colossal pain in the ass I would have been if anything had ever moved from play partners to anything more.

So, my “submission” looked something like this:

Me: Hey, I saw this guy tying up this girl and spanking her. I want to try that with you.

Them: Well I am good with rope. I can totally do that.

 

Them: I am very good with a flogger. Have you ever been flogged?

Me: No, but it looked really fun to me when X was being flogged. I do think I want to try that!

 

Do you see a pattern here? I was keen to try new things. I was keen to do the things I wanted to do. But nowhere in there did I indicate that I wanted to do things with a thought to what they actually wanted. Nor did I ever indicate that I wanted to give up any control to anyone. I wanted to try the things I wanted to try. I wanted someone to do those things to me. Sure, I expected that they would enjoy the things to. But that was certainly not my main motivation.

Yes. I was a do-me bottom. And a confused one at that!

Not that being a bottom is wrong or bad. It isn’t. Bottoms are wonderful to have! They are the perfect counterpoint to tops. And do-me bottoms aren’t even a bad thing. They are the perfect counterpoint to service tops. But bottoming is not the same thing as submitting. And if you don’t have a conversation with your partner, it can lead to frustration and confusion. For both/all of you.

So listen up all you submissive people! Ask yourself if you want to do the things you want to do. Do you want to do the things that your partner wants to do? Maybe you want to do things that are mutually agreeable to all parties. Ask yourself if your main priority (not your only one, perhaps, but your main one) is you or your partner(s). Ask yourself if you want someone else making decisions about your scene. Or your life. Or maybe you want to be the one making those decisions. If your answers are anything like the examples above? Perhaps you are not submissive. Perhaps you are a bottom. Perhaps you are a do-me bottom. Perhaps you are actually… a dominant.

It happens sometimes that we are all a bit confused. And the best thing we can do for our own peace of mind and happiness is to give it some thought so that we can figure out what actually works for us. How can we find our happiness if we don’t even have a clue what it looks like?

When the political becomes personal

There is a theme on my Fetlife friends list today. It seems to be “let’s discuss our physical appearance” day. Nobody told me. But now that I know, I am going to participate. I am, after all, an advocate of bodily autonomy and a part of the size acceptance movement.

I read a lovely rant by a woman who self-identifies as a bbw. She is happy in her large and lovely body and is unafraid to eat things in public. Even cake. Even a second slice of cake. She is also unafraid to get naked in the dungeon. Because naked kinky times are fun and awesome and she can’t well have them without the “naked” part. To which I say, “Hell Yes!”

Obviously, I agree with being at home in your own skin. No matter what that skin looks like or how much skin there is. Despite what the modern media would have us believe, it’s really great to actually love yourself. As you are. Right now. You don’t need a diet, a self help guru, steroids, or a certain brand of shoes in order to love yourself. If you want those things, great! But they are not prerequisites for self-love. It’s hard in this modern world to just love ourselves. But it’s a really fantastic goal.

I read another rant by a guy whose date was complaining that his date wasn’t confident enough in her appearance. He felt she was fishing for compliments in order to bolster her flagging self-esteem. And he was having no part of that. He didn’t want to date someone who was relying on him for self-esteem. I also agree with that! Self-esteem is, by definition, derived from within. No matter how many people tell you “x”, you may or may not ever believe in “x.” It’s hard, but it’s all up to each of us to decide if we believe “x” about ourselves.

In related news, I started back on hormonal birth control. It’s been years since I have been on any. And one of the likely side effects is weight gain. I was unconcerned. I was much more interested in whether or not I am going to end up with mood swings or spotting. Both of which would be annoying to have to deal with. It’s still worth it not to have to worry about an unintended pregnancy, but it would be annoying. And there is a very very small risk for blood clots. I’m not at much of a risk, but the risk isn’t zero.

I was relating the various things that I was expecting to go through in conjunction with my new anti-pregnancy regime to the men in my life. The Wild Thing listened carefully. He expressed excitement that I would be able to better enjoy my sex life without worrying. He was also confident that I would be able to deal with the things that were potential worries for me. And wanted to know if there was anything he could do in the event I needed support.

The Husband, on the other hand, though he has spent the last year attempting to convince me that he loves my body… well, the only words that came out of his mouth were, “Do you think you will gain any weight?” Color me unconvinced.

I could turn into a weeping mess. A rampaging bitch. And not in the fun way. I could have a stroke. And his first thought was that I might get fatter. I know he loves me, but I don’t think my body is much to his liking any more. Unfortunately for him, I am one of those confident people who is at home in her own skin. No matter how much skin there is.

Musings on love

I wish I could make friends like a normal person. Or even like I used to be able to do when I was young. I don’t. I can’t. I don’t know how any more. I do have a few close friends. But I can count them on one hand with fingers left over.

I was just reading this touching writing on Fetlife about a poly man and his death. How his daughter (who knew about his poly lifestyle) has been contacting all his loves. And how they are all coming in one way or another to be with him one more time. Sharing their memories and love of him. I don’t think that any of my past lovers would bother. Not that we dislike each other or that things ended badly. I just don’t think our connection was strong enough to warrant that.

I think that there are a few who might care to say a last goodbye. Maybe. Depending on when my hour comes. But I have to say that I really think I’d be lucky to have even one person who had a strong enough connection to want to share a last memory.

The Husband and I are on the edge of a precipice. And I don’t know if he will be one of the people who would like to share his love with me as I lay dying. It’s sad and frightening. It makes me wonder if I’m simply not the marrying type. I am the loving type. Given the right person, I love. I love hard and stubbornly and insistently. But marriage… Perhaps I’m just not cut out for it.

Musings on “power slaves”

I attend a lot of classes and workshops. One of my least favorite was from a few years ago. I had been looking forward to the class. It was being given by a very well respected M/s couple. They teach all the time and get rave reviews, so I was expecting to get some useful information from the class. It has been a while. What did I learn about M/s relationships that day?

If she is a great example of a power slave, I don’t ever want one.

What I remember most is them discussing how she isn’t submissive. She doesn’t need or particularly want his direction. She wants him to give her tasks and then turn her loose to do it her way. I want to decide what tasks are important to me, determine how I’d best like them done, and in what order they should be given precedence. Someone who doesn’t want to do things my way is going to end up frustrating me or causing me to just give up on having things done the way I want them done. Then I just end up doing things myself.

I also remember a story about how she is allowed a lot of leeway with her behavior because it takes such a strong and passionate woman a lot to deal with her slavery. In one story, she had become so upset and angry about some directive that she got out of the car at a stop light and stalked angrily through some unknown (and somewhat unsafe) area while he followed patiently in the car until she calmed down enough to talk. I was aghast at this. Of course I wouldn’t have wanted to leave someone stranded either. But the kind of person who would become so angry that s/he would jump out of a car and stomp off? Does not sound like someone I would like to try to have as my slave or submissive. It seems to me that this person places little value on hir own safety, and little regard for my time.

The other story I remember is one where her “passion” and “emotions” ran so strong that she sometimes said very hurtful things to him. So he would put her in a special place in their home until she calmed down. She had leave to cause this to happen 3 times in a given time period. (I can’t remember now if it was a week or a day or a month, but I do remember it was closer to a day than a month.) He said that if it ever got to that fourth time that the relationship would basically be over. And that he had the same rule for himself, except that if he ever needed it the first time the relationship would be over. And I thought about how I don’t think I could deal with someone who said such hurtful things that I needed to create such a rule. And certainly I would not want to have to deal with this kind of behavior often enough that 3 times/week (or so) was the standard. Do I want someone who loses their temper at me on a regular basis? I like passion. I am also a passionate person. But this isn’t my idea of a good direction for someone’s passion to take. Be passionate about music or politics or gardening. Don’t just erupt.

And yet… and yet…

I seem to have one. How the hell did I get here?

Musings on shared experiences

“I hope you enjoy the sex as much as I do!”

“No?”

“Well, given what you’ve told me about how it makes you feel…”

He was very apologetic. He looked so genuinely sorry but at the same time so very happy that he could make me feel that way. I know he loves me. And I do enjoy our sex in a way that is both visceral and transcendent. It’s amazing. But.

I want to share that feeling with someone. Not only be taken there with someone, but share that with them. And if it hasn’t happened by now with him, it won’t. It makes me sad.

I suppose I should be happy. I know this won’t be a permanent relationship. That leaves a space for someone in my future with whom I can share this feeling with. Some day. I should be able to be more excited about that prospect. And still enjoy the magnificence that is my current sex life. And I have two magnificent partners. Both are amazing lovers. Head and shoulders above all the other lovers I have had over the years.

But the frightened, jaded parts of my mind are pointing out how long it took to find this feeling at all. And the astronomical odds against finding it ever again with someone else, let alone someone I can share that feeling with. Then I will have lost it forever.