Now He and I find ourselves back in that place. We became beholden to what we thought we "should" be doing, rather than what was right for us. A recent example:
We both were talking about opposite-sex friends at work and I think we were both a bit jealous of the other. Not that either of us thought the other would be unfaithful, just that we were mildly jealous of office flirtations. Anyway, I asked a few questions about his work friend, but He shut that conversation down very quickly and told me to stop being a brat. But when he asked me about my friendship with my work friend, I had to answer every question. I even had to hand over my PDA so he could read our (innocent) e-mails and I had to do it without complaint.
As we went to bed that night, I told Him that I was unhappy at what I perceived to be a double standard. I told Him that I didn't think it was fair that I had to answer all of his questions and submit to his suspicions, while I was barred from questioning him at all. He told me that no, it wasn't fair but that is the way it is. I am owned and things are different for me. He turned over and went to sleep. I was annoyed and I spent half the night turned away from him in a funk.
We talked about it a couple of weeks later and it turns out that he didn't want things to be so unfair. He didn't like that we are held to a different standard over something that concerns both of us in this relationship. His instinct was to apologize and agree to treat each other equally, but instead he laid down the hard line because he thought it would be more dominant. He thought that it would be what was expected of him as an owner, even though it didn't seem right to him and even though it only caused resentment on my part.
We've said that we're 24/7, but that doesn't mean that we can't have limits for ourselves. There are things that neither of us is comfortable with, so why should we do those things? If certain restrictions or rules work for other couples, that's great, but we're not all the same. We need to figure out what works for us and where the line is.
We've started thinking of our relationship as made up of concentric circles. The innermost circle is what we started with: bedroom kink, pure and simple. That is the essential for me and what drew me into BDSM to begin with. The next circle includes non-bedroom kink that we both enjoy and find beneficial, such as my bedtime and the spontaneous way that he exerts his control on me in public when I least expect it. The outermost circle holds the things that we've been doing but aren't necessarily essential for us or aren't exactly working. The key will be to figure out what is working and what isn't, and to decide for ourselves what we should do.
For a few days, the prospect of such an adjustment had me in a right state. I was nervous that too much would change or that He would want to give up kink altogether. But things seem to have settled down and we're talking about what we should do going forward. A bit of change isn't all bad, right?
Our weekend was quiet and wonderful. We spent 90% of it alone together, just talking and cuddling and exploring each others' bodies. It's amazing that there are new ways for Him to touch me, even after all of this time. The look in his eyes as he moves toward me still takes my breath away. I laid in his arms and felt the world fall away from me. I slept next to him, curled up against his back. It was all so ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
The kinky details don't really matter at a time like this. This weekend was notable, not for the lack of kink, but how seamlessly that kink is part of who we are on a day-to-day basis. It wasn't surprising when he folded his hand over my mouth to stifle my screams or scratched his nails down my back. It was normal. After each time we had sex, we still curled up together and touched noses, cooing "I love you" in the dusky darkness of his bedroom.
I'm looking forward to this next year and all that we have to experience together. And I am looking forward to sharing it all with you!
My breath eventually returned to normal and I came back to earth in his arms. He kissed the top of my head and whispered in my ear. I don't remember what he said, except that his words made me feel safe and protected.
We were quiet as we started kissing again, tentatively at first. Our kisses grew more urgent and we were both moaning softly. He pulled my right leg over his hip and slid into my still-wet pussy with a quiet sigh.
We rocked together, not speaking but looking right into each others' eyes. Somehow, he managed to tuck my left leg underneath him while we remained on our sides. He stayed inside me the entire time, moving in and out of me in a dreamy rhythm. He stroked my hair and held me close, kissing me more insistently as my moans grew louder. I could feel myself ready to come, I could feel him deep inside me, I could feel the love in his eyes and his hands. There were just so many emotions. I was overwhelmed with him all around me.
He tucked his head close against my neck and bit into my shoulder gently. I held onto his back and wondered if there was any way that we would fuse together. We were so close. We could just stop being two people. We were so connected.
We came together, like two beings breathing in and out of each others' lungs. We stayed together for a long time after that, not wanting to separate. Not wanting the break the circuit of electricity. Never wanting to be apart.
He spanked me very hard. There wasn't much mercy there and I was thankful for that. At one point, after I started to cry from the pain of his stinging backhanded slaps, I was quietly begging him. Not to stop exactly, but maybe for a moment to gather myself together. Instead he told me to shut the fuck up and punctuated each spank with a command to "take it, take it."
When he was finished, he picked my head up off of the mattress by my hair and looked into my eyes. "There's that fire," he sighed happily. "It's been flickering lately, but now it's back. My Kitten is back."
I clung to him, tears of joy welling in my eyes, as he held me gently for a few moments. His cock was hard against my leg and I could feel the wetness in my pussy from the spanking. He looked deep into my eyes again.
"More," I said breathlessly, overtaken by my desire to have him inside me, all around me. He moaned and leaned my head back to kiss me deeply. As he put my legs on his shoulders and entered me slowly, I closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me. I was back.
His words became harsh and degrading, pulling me deeper into that submissive headspace. He told me that I am his cunt and a little whore. He made me repeat it so the words would sink in.
He told me about the training - or, actually, the retraining - that he was planning for me. He told me about the belt, and the palm of his hand, and the candle wax. He drew elaborate pictures of me hogtied on the bed and about fucking me until I scream. He told me about the torture of not being able to come and how I would soon face that. He told me how much he would enjoy that and he laughed.
I could feel the heavy calm descending as he spoke and I wecomed it. I wrapped myself in it and felt it all around me. I was reminded. I needed to be reminded.
It's not about indulgence. Depression is something I've lived with for a long time; it is something that has slowly tried to kill me without dulling my ability to function. So it's not about having the luxury of staying in bed. There is plenty of time for sadness even if you manage to hold down a full-time job. No, it is about standing up and being strong when you'd rather hide away. Maybe even faking it for a while until being normal feels normal again. Looking at the bright side helps, even when letting go of the negativity feels like a great injustice.
In any case, I am having a good day, a hopeful day. I want to take this day, average as it is, and make copies of it and save those copies for when I need them. I want so desperately to be happy and to make Him happy. I know that it upsets Him when I am sad. I don't want to be a dead weight in our relationship. This is about more than D/s; this is about any relationship. I want to try to be better for us, so we can be stronger together.
He is planning some challenges for me in the weeks ahead. He is going to be gentle if it is needed, but he is also going to test me. I welcome these challenges. I welcome the chance to show Him that I am strong in my submission. I welcome the chance to prove that to myself. I hope that I can rise to the occasion and lose myself in the moment, feel that amazing crackle of electricity between us and do those amazing things that are possible only when we are truly connected. I have faith that that can happen again. What we have...it doesn't go away, ever. It is always there, even if it has been buried under layers of other emotions lately. I am reaching down into myself to find it, to bring it back.
I am trying to remember what it was that drew me into exploring my submission and what led Him to find me. It's so funny to think back over a year ago because so much has changed. I don't even recognize the life that I used to live. But I remember that I spent a lot of time then reading blogs of other submissive women. I felt a pull. I felt more than mere curiosity. I felt compelled. Everything that I had wondered about myself - why did I have those violent fantasies? why did I hurt myself and like it? - was leading me to this point. Maybe it was my destiny to find submission. And when something is your destiny, you are hard-pressed to figure out the decisions that lead you to where you end up.
All along this path, I have sought something that I wanted, either consciously or subconsciously, and I have pursued it with the faith that the payoff would be more rewarding than the cost. A lot of what I write about here is about the cost of submission - what it takes from me physically and emotionally. The emotional costs are higher than the physical. My body rebounds but my mind is changed forever. It is a subtle form of brainwashing, the making of a woman into a girl into an animal into an object.
Maybe I'm too inscrutable and people think that I don't willingly want to make these sacrifices because of what I write here. Maybe it seems like I don't want to be controlled? For me, control is a double-edged sword: I need it and I crave it and I love it, but it fills me with a sense of existential dread. I can see what control he exerts over me today and I can draw a line to where we're going in the future. I see what's coming next and it makes me afraid. But I've accepted every measure of control, even if it came after a bit of a struggle on my part, and I'd gladly do it again and again.
I've hit a wall and I need to figure out how to get over it. I need to make my peace with my choices and choose to go forward. It is difficult because my emotions are in a tumult. I'm too quickly angered and my tears come too easily lately. I'm not as grounded and rational as I used to be. I've been in this place before and I've made it out. I know depression very well. I've wrapped myself up with it like a warm blanket, only to have it suffocate me. I know there are two paths, one directly out and the other through a breakdown, but either way I've come out of it before. I can do it again.
He knows what is happening with me. That doesn't mean that he's not pushing me, because he is, but he understands. He is helping me reconnect. He had me carry my paddle around with me everywhere for the past few days so that I would be reminded that he loves me and that he owns me, no matter what. I touched it, tucked discreetly inside my bag, whenever I was feeling shaky.
I'm going to end this entry on an open note, because there is no conclusion to this yet. Things are in motion. I am trying. He is working on getting me back to good. I'll be strong again soon, or I won't, but neither of us is going to give up.
But now, at the start of October, I've had a major back slide. I can't point to any one thing, really. He has changed jobs recently and I have seen him a lot less. I've been taking care of myself a bit more because I've spend the time between weekends by myself. And for other reasons, those weekends we have spent together haven't included any overnights. If I was really under his control before, I have been relatively free for the last month.
It's strange how I can feel this submissive energy ebbing away. I had started to feel like a supersub, so confident that I had done something great, but all of that confidence has deserted me. I don't know if I could take some of the punishments that I took this summer now. I don't know if I could reach that blissful perfect state of submission to Him that I have often felt over the past few months.
The little things are so obviously wrong with me. I was completely unable to follow a simple order the other night, one that didn't mean a lot to me but really meant a lot to him. I got a "bad Kitten" for that, which made me feel even worse about myself. Last weekend I was mouthy with him in a way that was just completely unnecessary and didn't accomplish anything. I saw myself as a pretty terrible person after that, not to mention a bad submissive (and I think we can agree that the bar for good behavior is much higher for us than it is for non-submissive women).
At the same time, we've been talking about moving in together in a couple of months. I'm very excited about that prospect because I hate spending time away from him, but it means real 24/7 D/s not the improvised, sort of 24/7 thing that we've been doing for a year. It means ten times more control and no independent life for me to escape to. I've been living pretty heavily in that independent life lately and the thought of losing it altogether is extremely frightening right now. If I can't manage the small things, what will I do when I return home to him and be tested every night?
I know that I've been hiding. As my failures mount so do my doubts, and so does the draw of everything that is mine and mine only. I didn't need this three months ago as badly as I do now because now I have that much more to lose. The other night, he moved a plant in my bedroom (MY bedroom) and I lost it. He didn't want the plant next to the bed while he slept, so told me that it would be moved anytime that he stayed over and, when he moved in, it would have to be relocated permanently. Somehow, moving that plant on his orders became the biggest thing in the world. It symbolized everything that would change and my complete loss of control over all levels of my life. It showed me just how little say I would have over anything once he moved permanently into my life. It told me, unequivocally, that my home, my body, my possessions are no longer my own.
That stupid plant was evidence of everything that I had lost. I could let it go, accept that his needs trump my favored place for the plant, and move on with my life. Or I could dwell on it, worrying about everything else that will change and everything else that he will control. In my fragile state, I chose the route of anxiety. I could not find my way to acceptance.
That's where I still am as of this post. He knows how I am feeling and he recognized that the issue with the plant was not about home decor. He knows that I have lost my way and I think that he will be bearing down on me in order to bring me back into line. Because unless I find my way back? We'll never move forward.