Tag Archives: respect

This is my life: the threat assessment

Once upon a time, the husband tried to shove me at the wild thing. At every chance he got, he tried to get me to play with the wild thing. Do something with the wild thing… Look! There is the wild thing right over there and he’s looking this way… Don’t you want to play with him tonight??? Then, eventually, I did. I asked him about it after the play, and the husband remarked that he didn’t find the wild thing threatening. At that time, I thought to myself…

You will.

And he did. In a way he does, even though we’ve talked about it and he knows I love him and I’m not going to put him aside for anyone. So how did I know that the wild thing would move from “not a threat” to “potentially dangerous”? I saw what the wild thing might offer me. And he has. He is. He offers me things I have always wanted. He loves to touch me and be touched by me. Any touch. A kiss, a swat on the ass while he makes my tea, my nails in his flesh just because I felt like it, a bite on the neck because I love to bite. The wild thing wants it. He wants it in a way the husband doesn’t. He wants it whenever I want to do it. When he’s walking. When he’s watching a movie. When he’s in a scene. Doesn’t matter the timing, he wants it on my time frame and at my whim. And that’s scary.

The wild thing is just beginning his kink journey. He wants to try everything (well almost everything) and he wants to explore with me. He is willing to try things that the husband either can’t do due to his work or won’t do because he isn’t interested. I’m not just beginning my kink journey, but I’m an explorer. I like to examine and delve and learn new things. The husband is basically done learning. The only way he explores new things in the kink realm is if I make him. And since we are not in a TPE relationship, I can’t always make him. But the husband sees how much fun and excitement I’m experiencing trying all these new thing with the wild thing. And it’s scary.

I’m also getting service. Not service which someone else wants to do for me. Not service that I can’t call “service.” I call it service. I tell the wild thing what I want him to do or fetch or make, and he does it. He usually does it joyfully. He is serving me in a way that is obvious and blatant and servicey. And the husband can’t or won’t serve me in such a blatant way. That’s scary.

I understood that it would be scary. It’s scary for me too. I know that the husband doesn’t always react well to his fears. I’m not the only one with a history of being used or betrayed by my lover/partner/better half. He could have run. So far he hasn’t. He could preemptively betray me to cause me to leave. As far as I know, he hasn’t. What he HAS done is be honest with me that he’s threatened now. What he HAS done is tell me slowly and in the best way he knows how, the things that are scaring him and why. And what I’ve done is try my best to make sure he knows he’s not going to lose me unless he does something ridiculously hurtful and stupid. I’m not going to leave him for any reason he doesn’t give me himself. I’ve done whatever I can to make sure he knows that I still love him. I love him more today than yesterday. And my new joy in someone else does not negate the joy I feel in him. It just gives me more joy to share with them both.

(And really I find that I’m much nicer to the people I come across in my daily life as well! It’s amazing what having your needs fulfilled can do!)


This is my life: the text message

The wild thing is young. Much younger than I am. He’s young enough to be my son (if I’d had children young). And though he reads as a wild young fairy boy to me, his actions are those of a man. Most of the men who have wanted to submit to me have been very secretive about me. I didn’t realize until this week how much it’s sunk into my skin. How much it has affected me. How much it taught me to expect less. To expect to be treated in a way that made me feel like I wasn’t valued. Sometimes it takes a boy (Well, technically he is not actually a boy, but he’s a young man at least!) to show you what a man is.

Him: I still need to learn how to [very particular cleaning thing I hate doing] and also to [clean this thing that we discovered needed cleaning yesterday].

Me: Yes you do. Why don’t you come over on Friday evening for some naked cleaning instruction!

Him: Well I have this cocktail thing I’m already committed to doing with my mom and some of her work friends. I could do something before or after or both. Do you want to come to the cocktail thing?


Edit: I’ve met the wild thing’s mom and several of his friends. All seems to have gone well! I’m feeling slightly relieved and also very lucky to have such wonderful men in my life. The husband was supportive even through his fear of my getting something I usually can’t get from any guy who’s wanted to submit to me.

This is my life: the phone call

We’re driving to an event together. He’s driving. I’m looking around and relaxing. The phone rings. He lets go of my hand to answer it.


A woman’s voice on the other end of the line. Alarm bells start softly sounding in my head. So many times I’ve been suspicious that I’m actually a mistress in the traditional sense of the word.

“Yeah. Ok.”

The bells are louder now. He sounds like he might be avoiding. Is he? I can’t really tell, but I don’t want to be a dirty little secret. I hate that. I already have one man in my life that won’t talk about me to any of his friends or family. And I’ve only known the wild thing for a few months. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought I did. Maybe I’m his dirty little secret and I didn’t realize it. The alarm bells are going crazy.

“No. I’m hanging out with Anonymouskinky today. Ok. Bye.”

I look at him and I almost want to cry. He grabs for my hand again. Smiling at me. He wants to touch me. He is telling the other person on the end of the line that I’m in his life. He isn’t keeping me a secret. He isn’t ashamed of me or of what we are doing together. I hardly know what to do with myself.

“What? You’re looking at me funny. I was just telling my mom I am busy today.”

And later. Much later. The next day later…

“I’m having dinner with a few friends tonight. Would you like to come? I’m inviting you.”

I’m floored. It hurts me a little that I’m so floored by this. I shouldn’t be. But I am. I just want to hold him and make every single one of his dark dreams come true.


Edit: And as a contrast. The raven broke our date tonight with about a half hour’s notice. It’s been over a year we’ve known each other now. Nobody in his life knows I exist. The contrast is staggering.

Musings on STIs

I saw a post about STIs recently. There have been quite a few rolling around on the internet lately. Most of the posts have been positive in nature. They have been all about people de-stigmatizing STIs. I think that is necessary and a great thing to strive for. ¬†However, this particular post rather annoyed me. The gist of the post was that it is perfectly fine to have an STI. And further, that nobody should really be concerned about having sex with someone who has one because it’s riskier to do things like drive a car than to have sex with someone who has an STI. Even more than that, people should be really happy to fuck the particular person who wrote the post because he was really awesome.

Now, I do agree with part of the post. Stigmatizing STIs is a ridiculous holdover from our somewhat puritanical culture. I think that there isn’t anything wrong with having an STI. It’s a bit like having the flu. It happens. All kinds of people get the disease, even those who try to mitigate the risks. Sometimes you shake hands with someone who doesn’t know they are infected with the flu and are about to come down with a really bad case. Sometimes you wash your hands every few minutes because everyone in the office is coming down with the flu. Then you get it too. Sometimes you choose to hang out with a bunch of people who have the flu. Maybe because you work in a hospital or because your whole family has it and you don’t want to go get a hotel room. Sometimes you are simply going to get the flu, like it or not.

And really, who would choose to get the flu? I don’t know of many people who rejoice when they get the flu.

Now the flu happens. STIs happen. That’s just life. I place no value judgment on people with the flu or an STI or cancer. They are all diseases that most of us would rather not deal with if we can help it. However…

This particular post seems rather callous about those who choose to try to mitigate their own personal risks. Just because I am not comfortable riding a motorcycle doesn’t make me a horrible person. If I don’t want to take up bungee jumping, I’m not an asshole. When I politely decline to go climb Mt. Everest with you, I’m not being a judgmental prick. I’m just assessing my own personal comfort levels for my own personal body. For me, some things are not worth the potential rewards. And just because I don’t want to mount your personal peak doesn’t mean I think that you shouldn’t climb that mountain. It also doesn’t mean I think mountain climbing is bad, wrong, or dirty. It just means that I’m not interested. And why would you want a climbing partner who isn’t really interested? Especially when there are so many people who clearly are. Their risk assessment is different than mine. And I do my best not to be offended when they call me a pussy or a wimp or a scaredy cat. It would be great to be extended the same courtesy.

And it’s true. I’m a bit of a pansy on some things. I don’t like being touched by strangers. I barely like being touched by people I know well. I don’t drink after, share cosmetics with, or kiss anyone I’m not sexually involved with. Because I’m a bit of a germaphobe. I’m also admittedly wimpy about physical pain and annoyances. I don’t know how masochists deal with it. I can barely deal with an ingrown hair or a mosquito bite without a ridiculous amount of whinging. I don’t really want to deal with an STI if I can help it. None of them sound particularly pleasant. I can’t imagine what a giant pain in the ass I would be if I had to deal with any symptoms. In addition to that, the cure might be just as bad as the disease itself. I have strange and usually unpleasant reactions to medications. I therefore try my best to avoid needing any. Because what might be a very minor annoyance that is easily fixable to someone else could be something fairly major for me.

So when someone else who doesn’t own the rights to my body like I do tries to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with it, I get a bit annoyed. If you want to jump out of a plane, do street luge, or swim with sharks… knock yourself out. I applaud you and fully support you. I always admire people who follow their path. Now let me follow mine.

Oh, in addition to the complete disregard for people’s autonomy… this gem of a man had to go a few years without sex due to having an STI. So he quit telling his partners right away. He told them eventually. And apparently he’s just so amazing in bed that none of them were upset about being lied to or having their right to choose taken away. Because he’s just that good a lay. So of course we should all fuck him because now he’s also awesome enough to disclose his STI status up front! Now I’ve had some very long dry spells myself. So I can relate to wanting to get some. However, it didn’t lead me to trample the rights of other people so I could get my jollies. And I’m not exactly Mother Teresa. I don’t think it’s a huge feat that I managed to go without sex despite my rather high sex drive. I just think he’s an egomaniacal jerk who prioritized his dick above the basic rights of other human beings.

Random musings

I’m way too old to be a bohemian any more. Though I’m not sure I’ve ever been good at being a starving artist. I really like my creature comforts and I really don’t like financial instability.

The husband is making an effort in my direction. I do hope it’s a genuine effort and not because he feels bad about fucking things up in the past. Learning from mistakes is good. Trying to bribe me is not.

I am not very inspired towards kink or sex right now. The things I do want to do, I can’t do. I think the general frustration has finally been catching up to me.

The other night was one of those nights where I liked what I saw so much that I just had to have it right now. So I did. I like them, I just wish there were more of them.

I will miss my dog when he’s gone. I wonder how much time I have left with him. He’s getting old, though he doesn’t act like it.

I’m dying to buy some sexy lingerie for my menfolk. One doesn’t particularly care for it, which takes some of the enjoyment out of it for me. The one that does, I can’t get it to him or ask him to buy it for himself.

We always seem to have at least one piece of kink equipment missing at any given time. Right now it’s one of the collars. It’s usually one of the quick release clips.

Someone online recently suggested that any relationship that the dom and sub view each other as having equal value is only role-playing D/s. In addition, this person believes that there are people who are inherently of more value than others. I think that’s unmitigated bullshit. All of it. And it’s just one more example of someone who doesn’t actually respect submissives or submission, yet claims to want a relationship with one.

The house was clean for about a day after the party. Now, a week later, it’s a mess again. How can it get so messy so fast? I hate cleaning. I believe I’ve mentioned how I wish I could do casual things better.