Camaraderie and “Ow Fuck!”

First things first, I’d like to give a kudos to the gracious and awesome hosts of the munch last night: Thank you so much, DrHoagie and Hoagie’s nadira, for creating a space for such a wonderful time. You guys rock!

Last night N and I attended the local munch and had an unexpected blast. I mean, we expected to have a good time and get to know people better, but we hadn’t anticipated it being that much fun. So much talking, laughing, owie things, playing with cats and teasing the SAMs, I’m just smiling thinking of it again. The food was wonderful, the camaraderie was comforting, the modeling was gorgeous and the sincerity warm.

I sat by N’s feet in the living room for most of the evening, after the food had been served. Someone who must not like me very much had given Him a crop with a heavy metal-capped handle, so He randomly whapped me wherever it was convenient. Soles of feet, toes, inner thighs, tits, upper arms…with both the stingy crop end and the heavy handle. Whap, whap, thud, CRACK! Another woman who is quite the entertaining SAM (SmartAssed Masochist) was on the floor next to me, trying to avoid her good friend who was armed with a lexane paddle. At one point, trying to be all smooth like, I gave the mistress the crop, but that just inspired N to get out this studded leather strap and beat me with that instead. The SAM said it leaves nice marks, and damn was she right…through my fucking jeans, with N only going maybe half force, I’ve got little stud-shaped bruises on my thigh.

Through my jeans. He is *so* not getting that strap for His birthday.

At one point there were three D/O types in the living room with pain instruments in their grasp and two s-types that needed to get through the gauntlet to the kitchen. She tried to throw me under the bus, but as I have extensive experience with being thrown under the bus by kaya, I managed to skip out on most of the serious pain. The one thing I did stupidly was put my hand across my ass trying to block a shot from a 1/2″ thick quartz paddle. Ow, fuck! I caught the edge of the paddle across my thumb joint and it instantly puffed up and stopped doing the things joints do. Today the swelling is down but the mobility is still a bit reduced. Lesson learned: when someone is coming after you with a paddle made out of fucking rock, your hand will not save you. Any unintended pain received is most likely your fault. 🙂  I loved it. Hopefully next time I have an encounter with that Master and his quartz paddle my hands will stay in their proper places.

After a few people wandered back home the little group left sat until past midnight bullshitting. The topics ranged from atheism to circular arguments common in BDSM to off-color jokes and wedding cakes. I haven’t had a good laugh in ages like I did last night. To a person (or a couple, really) used to being self-reliant loners based on our personal makeup as well as our chosen relationship dynamic, being able to have a group that we can really be ourselves and not feel so ostracized means a lot to us both.

I think I could come to like being a bit more social again. 😀

Coasting (1/01/2011) defines coasting as “to continue to move or advance after effort has ceased; keep going on acquired momentum”

That is what the past two months of my life have been.

Life in this house has been stressed, to say the least. The holidays are not always a time of beauty and love for many of us, and for me it is magnified by having to leave the comfort and security of my house and traveling at least 1000 miles round trip. Doing this as a couple was easy-peasy and we looked forward to it…doing this with three small pre-school children is self-abuse. On top of that add money issues from trying to stabilize after the bankruptcy, the stinging defeat of two positions I ran for in my volunteer work and general bickering amongst family, and you have a toxic stew of unhappiness and inattentiveness.

Nick’s reaction to overwhelming stress is to rely heavily on my internal enslavement that is already established and expend less effort on active Ownership to focus more intensely on solving or grappling with whatever has come up. This is fine for short-term situations; I feel honored that He trusts me enough to expect me to continue to perform to His standards after His direct involvement has lessened. Unfortunately, lately it went beyond short-term and I began to struggle with His lack of active Ownership. The base of our O/p dynamic began to crumble as I stagnated and the IE started to erode. When I feel the beginnings of the decay I tend to react with a sharp uprise in resentment and outright civil disobedience. It’s my flawed last-ditch effort to draw attention to the fact that we’re off course and doomed to hit the shoals if He doesn’t start steering soon. (I’ve been broken of the need to jump for the steering wheel…that NEVER ends well)

Our last-ditch effort came about while we were on holiday in Arizona for the Christmas break. Being out of my routine, in unfamiliar surroundings, with Him still asleep at the wheel…the last of my resolve dissolved and I started running amok. Back talk. Balking. Lashing out. At one point when He inadvertently hit me harder than expected while trying to get my attention I threatened to hit Him as hard as possible if He ever did it again. And I meant it, not like a playing mocking tone, but in a very real “bad things will happen if You do that” way.

You can easily see that no good could come from this.

We were adversarial by the time we made it back home. I was angry and resentful, feeling abandoned and insignificant, untrusting and nearly aggressive in avoiding Him. He was also distant and snappish, easily irritated, disinterested in sex or vanilla intimacies.

I mourned the absence of what we had. I spent a few nights awake trying to figure out where I had gone wrong, where I had let in the decay that separated us.

So one morning I woke with a new resolve. One does not inspire leadership by challenging each move…I vowed to be submissive to Him, without any prompting, to be unresisting, to be more pleasing, to remind Him why He took the lead in our relationship to begin with…

I doted. I devoted. I lavished attention on Him, played geisha to Him and struggled to curb my impetuous anger and presumptuous thoughts. What could this dying effort hurt? I was already in pain and sadness…what could showing Him these things, being revealed and raw to Him really do now?

His inner dominance awoke to my more docile self. He saw my pain and confusion, felt my loss and anger, and responded. He began to make His way to the wheel and was reading the maps. And suddenly He went “How the fuck did we get here?!”

Damnit, I *knew* we were supposed to turn at Albuquerque!

The past week has been a time of self-awareness and discovery on both of our parts. I have discovered that languishing for His dominance is nowhere near as effective as inviting it; He’s discovered that in making me what I am today He has shouldered more of the burden of Ownership than He initially thought. It was painful, lonely and I hope we never have to do it again. We still have our moments, where I get defensive, waiting for Him to pull away again, and He has His moments where He fully expects something from me that withered away without His direct nurturing.

He’s made changes that will hopefully get us back on track. I’m trying to hold a positive outlook on His renewed attention. He has goals for us, a way to ensure that we don’t decay like that again. While I welcome His full return, I still resent times when my leash is shortened. I have grown accustomed to Him not caring, so for Him to poke His nose in and stir shit up again makes me a little edgy until I re accustom myself to it.

And if we do run off course, I’m grabbing the wheel. A little coup d’etat might encourage Him to not let go of the wheel next time.

Fear (no loathing) in Las Vegas (06-02-2010)

This Friday, The Man and I fly out to Arizona to stay for the weekend with His mom and step-dad. The day after we arrive, it’s off to Las Vegas for a night, then back to Arizona for another night before flying back home. I’m alternately thrilled and terrified.  He finds this dichotomy amusing.

I’m thrilled because it’s three and a half days away from our children. Our children, who, though I love them so, have driven me stark raving mad more than once recently. I’m thrilled because it will be new experiences for both of us, a chance to relate to each other on a solely O/p basis, parenting and the stressors of living one step from disaster a far distant concern for that short stretch of time. A chance to recharge our batteries and reaffirm why we love each other so much.

I’m terrified because there is so much unknown involved. I’m already getting a squicky feeling in the pit of my stomach thinking about going through security. About strolling down the Strip. About the noise and crowds and dim chaos in the casino His mother is bringing us to. While I am curious about it all, I still would rather bury my head in His shoulder and blink it all away. Unknown situations can bring me, an otherwise fairly confident, strong woman, to my knees begging for it to just stop. Good example: When I was a freshman in high school, I was transferred three-quarters way through the season to a different school due to natural disaster. No one from the new school showed me how to use the totally unfamiliar check-out system for lunch. Consequently, I never ate lunch there. For two months, I never stepped foot in the cafeteria. I was petrified of the idea that I would make a fool of myself trying to learn this new system. I didn’t want people behind me getting irritated with me for taking so long. 

I didn’t want to look stupid and be annoying.

With that in mind, you can understand why my mind comes to a screeching halt when I try to imagine going through security without Him. Trying to navigate the Strip without His comforting presence. Even just imagining finding my way around the different gates and sections of the airports leaves me a little shaky and mildly nauseous. Some would say that this was indicative of an anxiety issue, that I would need to see someone to help with this mental self-bondage. Do I think so? Not really. It doesn’t affect my day-to-day life. When I am overwhelmed or panicking, one step away from bolting or bawling, He’ll be right there, and I can look into His eyes and feel the panic release it’s grip. Is this co-dependent? Many people would say yes. I would disagree. How many people need their spouses with when confronting someone or getting possible bad news? Mutual support, I believe the popular term is. So why would be any different for me to need Him with me when navigating new experiences?

It also makes His life a lot easier when I get anxious about being out and about for an extended length of time, and well, He certainly doesn’t have to worry about me sneaking off to go gambling anytime soon!

In some ways, I wish I could go down the Strip with Him while collared and leashed, the other end firmly gripped in His hand, to have such a tangible sign of His presence and control over me. As it is I will probably have my hand firmly planted in His trailing along Him like a shadow, screening out most of the outside world and focusing on His commands, His moods, Him. I’ll lean against Him like an overgrown cat when feeling overwhelmed, and purr under His soothing caresses.

I love The Man, because if it weren’t for Him, I’d have voted to stay in Arizona, lounging by the pool and staying within my safe, if somewhat stifling boundaries. Yes, He’ll push me farther than I think I can go. Yes, I’ll most likely feel like I am one step from total melt-down at some point that night. Yet, when looking back at it, I’ll know that I grew a little, submitted more, and furthered myself as His slave.

Has anyone ever considered that in becoming more dependent on an Owner, the property is forced to grow?

And the Getting is Good! (04-20-2010)

Battered but better.

So, it’s been awhile since i posted. i’ve been a busy slavebitch in a number of ways. He’s had me running from sun-up to sun-down, and then a bit beyond that.

i wrote my last post from a very insecure, anxious and torn up place. i have made my life as His slave my calling, the purpose of my life from which all things flow. i misinterpreted His actions of the last month as seeing me as an unnecessary part of His life,  an option, a tiresome obligation. A common saying is “Never make a person a priority when you are an option” and boy did that really get the mind running. i could feel it building and cracked down to squelch the feud. Resentment was rampant. Fury wasn’t far behind. i balked. i yelled, i cried, i turned away,  i retreated. He stood there and asked “What the fuck?!” He never went anywhere, and eventually i was forced to confront my issues and clue Him into the torturous maze of my mind. After a lot of heavy lifting and memories i would have rather not gone through, i finally hammered out an approach. We had it out. He mentally smacked me around a bit for being so obstinate and dense. i reminded Him that while yes, it’s good to be King, it ain’t as easy as it’s cracked up to be. There’s work involved, and when He decides to take a sabbatical, well, the property is bound to come undone a bit.

Basically, it boiled down to He had mentally gone away, and i was left to my own destructive devices. Then when He looked up and said “What the hell happened to you?!” i shrugged helplessly and said “You left.” It hurt to say it. It hurt to lower the pedestal He rests on. It hurt to accept that i am not a good enough slave for Him to be able to check out of the O/p shit for a few months and come back later to find me still running along right where He left me. It is what it is, yes, but it still hurts, and not in a good way.

Speaking of being hurt, i was. A lot. He whomped on me a few different times.  With lots of deliciously degrading sex, malicious molestation, intimately infiltrating my mind again. i’ll be writing that up for a different post. 🙂

Now He’s back. He’s been easing into the active presence in my life again. Rules are actually enforced again. When He tells me to shut up, He means it. He’s kept me busy in the evenings instead of letting me have full rein on my time. After having my life to myself, it’s a bit of an adjustment to have Him in full form again. Tongue and lips have been gnawed to keep unwelcome comments to myself. Ultimately, we will be better off for this.

i know it is hard for both of us when things break down like that. i am so very thankful that He is willing to put in the extra effort to put the pieces back to together when i fall apart and take everything with me.