Seven Years

As some of you know, N and I celebrated seven years of marital bliss on this past Monday. We’ve known each other for fifteen years, have been a couple for thirteen, and we have shared so many good times together we feel timeless and powerful, tenacious and enduring.

I didn’t post this earlier because I didn’t know what to say that didn’t sound all sappy and mushy and puppy-lovey.
And now, I just don’t care if I sound all that and then some. I love my Owner, He’s my best friend, my Lover, and I can’t imagine life without Him. He is the Sun to my Moon, the yin to my yang, the ketchup to my curly fries. The lemonade to my iced tea.
I love You, N.

Seven years have come and gone

Singing our own heartfelt song

The path is worn, the line is drawn

Another seven at the dawn.

Anal, Masochism, and Communication

I’ve discussed my reluctance with masochism previously, but in talking with Intriguing about my most recent brush up with N’s “I don’t care if you don’t want it, you’re getting it” philosophy, I’ve realized that my version of masochism is horribly clear as mud, and I’m damned lucky N’s been around me long enough to understand that when I say no, I’m needing a yes, but asking for the no/yes combo nullifies the no.

I’m not real fond of anal sex, which is why it makes my cunt gush fountains. In the shower last night, N told me to grab the oil bottle. I slumped…there’s only one reason He tells me to grab that bottle, and it’s not a good one. I tried my little girl lost look and said “It’s pretty late…I’m tired. We should go to bed.” He shook His head and pointed at the bottle. “But I’m sore and the water will get cold!” I wheedled. He just pointed again, His face hardening. I huffed a sigh and reluctantly grabbed the bottle, pouring a little into my hand and warming Him up with a hand-job. I tried to use a few of my usual tricks to maybe get Him to want a happy ending with that instead, but He cut me off at the pass and told me to knock it off.

Eventually He’d had enough of my slippery jerking and told me to turn around. The oil was cold as it ran down the crack of my ass, and I complained. He laughed and said that I always say its cold, but He doesn’t quite believe me, and He’ll need more data before He thinks about it.

He pressed Himself into me, and I tried to relax, really. I tried to ignore that I was cold, tired, tense, and wet. It hurt as He forced His way in, and I spent a while working through the pain. Part of it was that the lube wasn’t spreading far enough, but instead of asking for more, I relished the pain. I didn’t want to be the one who needed more lube. I wanted to suffer as long as He was happy; I wanted to hurt as He was feeling pleasure. So He continued to ride my ass as I rode the pain, knowing that my cunt was twitching and dripping, unable to smother my moans and whines as He thrust deeper and deeper.

“Play with your cunt,” He growled in my ear. I whimpered a little, knowing that He loves to feel me getting off with His cock buried deep in my ass. I hate the indignity, the shame, the wanton hussiness it brings out in me. It’s up there in my top ten humiliation activities, which is why He finds it so attractive, I’m sure. Even though I was trying to ignore the heat radiating from my pussy, my hand was sliding down to nestle between my nether-lips, and it wasn’t long before I was begging Him to let me cum. I could feel His breath across the water on my neck, and suddenly the cold of His breath, the pain of His fucking, the knife’s edge of orgasm I was on…it was all too much. I needed the permission, or my clit was just going to explode and fall off…

“Yes!” He growled as He lunged forward, spearing me to the wall and making me cry out as the rush of the orgasm met the sharp sting of His thrust. It was a volatile combination that made my knees melt and my vision blur in the explosion of pleasure and pain.

I stood, head against the wall, breathing heavily as His cum dripped down my leg, mingling with my own juices before washing away in the shower spray. I couldn’t find my breath, or my thoughts, or words to thank Him for ignoring my wants in favor of His own. How could I say thank You for ignoring me? Thank You for not listening to me? Thank You for giving me what I can’t ask for?

I just looked up at Him and smiled weakly. “Thank You,” I muttered.

“Thank you.” He said with a grin.

I know that owning a reluctant masochist has to be hell sometimes, especially if you love them. Sometimes sorting out the “I don’t wanna” from the “I do want to, but can’t say it flat-out” gets to be a bitch. But I’m thankful that not only does N speak my language, He’s willing to put Himself before me. That fulfills me way more than indulging me ever will.

Thank You.

C’mon Bessie, Just a Little Farther

Yesterday I was sent to my room for being an argumentative cranky slave. I’d reached the end of my tether, so there I was, hooves dug in to the deep earth, head down, backing out as hard as I could. There was N, holding on to the headstall and crooning to me, coaxing me, shaking the bucket of oats and murmuring “Just a little farther, tora. Just a little farther.”

Uh-uh. Ain't goin'. Oh, you have apples over there?

I might have said it before, but I’ll say it again: It’s just N and I. There isn’t anyone we can reliable count on to have our backs, other than each other. While I’m cool with N having me to rely on, I don’t want to burden Him with all of me. And really, I want both of us to have a breather space where we can just step back, take a deep breath, and have room to hug. That’s not our reality right now, and I was harshly reminded of it the other day. I looked into the future and realized that it won’t get any better. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go through my life, and N’s always been there. While we can depend on each other, there isn’t anyone we can depend as a couple.

It can be a bleak life at times. We don’t go out much. We don’t have folks in. Its hard to celebrate big dates. Its hard to find times for us as a couple. Its hard not to let life grind us to dust.

Somehow He always manages to coax me into going a little farther. He can convince me life is better just beyond that hill, just beyond that month. He soothes me and tells me that if I just lean on Him, let Him lead, if I trust He knows the way, we’ll get by.

He’s been right each time. I haven’t died. I haven’t even lost my mind that much.

So yeah, He might be the only person I can rely on, the only person who is down to ride n die with me. And you know what? He just might be the only person I need. Because I sure as shit don’t have anyone else, and yet I thrive, grow and live underneath His thumb.

Each time I dig my hooves into this black gumbo earth, it takes Him less time to soothe me back to complacency. I’m hoping that at some point before He dies I’ll learn to just keep plodding along and not need the full stop snitfit anymore.

I really don’t like timeouts. I also don’t like when He charges at me from across the room. I’m sure those are also pretty convincing reasons to stop.

 

So in honor of being the only people we can rely on:

Nothing Else Matters by Metallica

So close, no matter how far
Couldn’t be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
and nothing else matters

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don’t just say
and nothing else matters

Trust I seek, and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
and nothing else matters

never cared for what they do
never cared for what they know
but I know

So close, no matter how far
Couldn’t be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
and nothing else matters

never cared for what they do
never cared for what they know
but I know

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don’t just say

Trust I seek, and I find in you
Every day for us, something new
Open mind for a different view
and nothing else matters

never cared for what they say
never cared for games they play
never cared for what they do
never cared for what they know
and I know

So close, no matter how far
Couldn’t be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No, nothing else matters

For N – Lyrics That Make Me Think of You

Games, changes and fears
When will they go from here
When will they stop
I believe that fate has brought us here
And we should be together
But we’re not
I play it off but I’m dreamin of you
I’ll keep it cool but I’m fiendin.
I try to say goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near

I may appear to be free
But I’m just a prisoner of your love
I may seem alright and smile when you leave
But my smiles are just a front
I play it off but I’m dreamin of you

I’ll keep my cool but I’m fiendin
I try to say goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near

Here is my confession
May I be your possession
Boy I need your touch
Your love kisses and such
With all my might I try
But this I can’t deny
I play it off but im dreamin of you
I’ll keep my cool but I’m fiendin
I try to say good bye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not near

-“I Try” by Macy Gray

 

Ignoring the bit in the beginning about not being together, this is me. This is my slavery. My world really does start crumbling when You leave, and it’s the faith that You will be back that keeps the breath in my lungs and the light in my heart. I am a prisoner of love,  Your possession, and I can’t think of a happier way to be.

Eye hart Ewe, Yobo.

 

Reunited

Today we pick N up from the airport around 5 pm. This day is dragging. :/

It has been a week since I have seen Him, and while I have enjoyed nearly all of it (the exception of getting lost on the Boston subway comes to mind) I have acutely missed Him. Talking on the phone is not enough…I fall asleep lonely, wake up only to remember that He isn’t here to talk about my silly dreams, isn’t here to help me calm down when I’m feeling restless and anxious over how different everything is. The beautiful flowers on the table, the collar ’round my neck, the Njoy…while these things keep me mindful of Him, they are not Him.

Absence does make my heart grow fonder. I miss Him, and the only thing that will soothe the ache is running to Him on the concourse and burying my face in His chest, breathing the scent of my Owner and feeling complete for the first time in a week.

***************************
4:57 Eastern time: N’s flight has been delayed by nearly two hours. I’m anxious, as the weather is due to become unpleasant tonight. Near tears contemplating having to spend another night apart. This property is not meant to be away from her Owner so long.

The Softer Side

Sunday we painted the utility room and kitchen. This involved the very clumsy tora on top of a step ladder painting all the edges (it is called cutting in, I guess).  I was doing pretty good until I moved the foot of my ladder a little too close to the hole in the floor where the dryer vent normally would be. I wobbled on the ladder a little too much and BAM!! I was on the floor, still trying to figure out what had just happened.

The foot of the ladder had lurched into the vent hole, and I went flying backwards off the ladder. I hit the dryer with my ribs and head on the way down, I twisted my left ankle in the side of the ladder, and the other shin was bruised hitting the other side of the ladder. I clawed for purchase during my fall and managed to pull the cat food bowl on top of myself as well. My paint cup left a large puddle of cream-colored paint in the floor next to me, and somehow my ponytail tip had been dipped in said cream-colored paint.

N had been painting the kitchen when I fell, and He hollered out “Are you okay in there?”

“I don’t know yet.” I grumped. “Ask me in five minutes when I figure out what just happened.”

It took me a while to gather my wits, so He came wandering in, confused as to why I hadn’t come out or starting bitching. To His eternal credit, He didn’t laugh when confronted with the image of me sitting with my legs tangled in the ladder, in a puddle of paint, cat food all over me, stuck in the corner. He helped me get out from the ladder’s death grip, gave me the stuff to clean up the paint and let me lick my wounds (figuratively!) from the safety of the desk. After I had soothed my wounded pride I went back to painting, but with a sprained ankle. He was nice enough to do all the stuff that required a ladder. 😀

Monday I had my top right wisdom tooth pulled out. The oral surgeon was kind enough to allow for IV sedation, so I was out for the actual extraction. My dad gave me a ride home, and I stumbled in, looking like Charlie Sheen after a bender (without the anger). N steered me down the stairs to our bedroom and I crawled under the blankets immediately and slept the rest of the stupor off. He finished painting, cleaned the floors in the rooms, put the knickknacks and appliances back, made the kids lunch, worked on the new washer/dryer stand and check on me. I crawled upstairs sometime after lunch and laid on the couch, staring at the tv when not drifting into a druggie-trance. He helped me take my pain meds and did the dishes for me. I got up to start supper and got everything three-quarters of the way done, but after that I had to lay back down again because I was dizzy and started to get a migraine. He finished supper, fed the kids, cleaned them up, and put them to bed, while I laid on the couch and drifted in and out again. After that He went back outside to work on His woodworking projects again. I started to feel really unpleasant, so I crawled back down the stairs and fell asleep clutching my collar. He came in and covered me up, making sure I felt okay before going to bed.

Everyone seems to think that O/p is all about the Owner being remote, cold, barking orders and getting blowjobs (or the equivalent for female Owners). Especially with regards to N, who can seem a bit aloof to those that don’t know Him. I felt so cared for, so princess-y, so secure in that He will take care of me when I am ill and not hate me for it, not feel put upon, not resent the sudden dependence on Him for my usual role.

I love You, for taking care of me and doing it with a smile on Your face.

Reflecting Further on my Needs for a 3C Owner

3C: Cool, Calm and Collected.

 

Much can be said about my past as well as the lasting effects it has left with me. My need for  my partner to have emotional stability and lean heavily on the logical side is one of the legacies the past gifted me with. This manifested itself quite obviously last weekend with a visit from his best friend.

N’s best friend is the kinda guy that is fun to be around, life of the party, but a bit arrogant, obnoxious and can set your teeth on edge once he gets set on something. He’s been known to toss out gems like “Gay guys are just wrong, they don’t deserve anything special [referring to gay rights]. I mean, lesbians, yeah, that’s great, but fags are just wrong” and “I don’t hit girls because they can’t fight back. It’s like fighting a crip”.

He’s generally a great guy, and he’s had our backs when we’ve been pressed. He’s got a sensitive side, but it’s buried under ten feet of bravado bullshit. 🙂

This winter has been bad for snowdrifts (well hell, I’m in North Dakota…every damned winter is bad for them) and N’s truck was snowed in from the last storm. We couldn’t pull her out with the car, so N’s friend came over with his truck to give us a yank before he headed into town. And yank he did.

The truck finally came free of the rut she was settled into, and slid right into the front end of the friend’s truck with a sickening crunching bang.

The brakes on the back-end had frozen and N couldn’t stop her once she was rolling backwards.

N’s friend came flying out of his truck screaming as N got out to inspect the damage. I am serious: screaming. Obscenities flew from his lips like spittle. Or rather, with spittle. He ranted and raved, hurling invective at N, who patiently stood there and waited for his friend to get it out and start making some sense so they could figure out what kind of work was needed to repair the damage.

I was over near the house helping the kids dig a snowcave, and when I heard the collision I stood up to watch what happened. I really should have gone straight inside the minute I realized that something bad had happened. I really should have. My upbringing has led me to have two instinctual reactions to a man yelling and raving: Flee the scene and wait for him to calm down, or be the aggressor and try to scare them off. I struggled with both reactions, nervously watching and secretly loathing the friend for flinging me back into the mess of my past.

It’s that volatility of emotion, the uncensored outpouring of anger and rage that makes me regress. When faced with that, I become far less logical and far more animalistic. I wanted to brain the friend with the shovel I was holding. I wanted to run to N for a hug and some calm words of reassurance. I wanted to appease the threat with beer and a kind smile. I wanted to slash his tires in retaliation for making me hurt and scared again.

Credit N’s training that all I did was bring the kids inside for cocoa.

I grilled N later on, trying to understand why the friend was so vitriolic over the truck. Why. Why was big that day. I couldn’t understand why the friend would so easily and voluntarily loose control of his emotions and logic. Why a person would say those things to a friend over an accident.

At the end of the day, I was so very thankful that N does not get like that. It would be so easy for Him to cow me, to make me into a woman afraid of my own shadow, unable to move beyond making sure He isn’t upset with me. I’ve been damaged to fall into the role much too easily, and once there, I can’t get out without some serious brain-excavating equipment. He knows this, He’s seen it in action, and ahs the respect and care for me to not do that. He makes that extra effort to not trigger the terrified girl on the inside. And for that, I love Him all the more. I worship Him just a bit more.

For that, I cannot thank Him enough.