This and That

It would be one thing if He just made me do what I do not want to do by force. If I could just be unhappy about it and get over it in my own time, or maybe resent him for it. Blame him and pretend like I don't want this life where he has complete control over me. That would be an easy way to be the victim here and escape the darkness of my own choices. If he forced me, that would be one thing.

But that's not how it works. He makes me do things, but he wants me to like it. He explains and reasons with me so that I understand. And he does not let me pout about it, or drag my feet while I serve. I have to accept it, I have to smile and I have to be happy. I cannot fake that. I must process my resistance quickly and I must choose this life, over and over again. I must say, "Yes, Sir" and I must sound like I mean it.

It must be strange, and strangely powerful, to be Him. To expect to get his way all the time and to expect me to always be happy about it. If he were any other man, I'd say that the least he could do would be to let me be upset, but he's not any other man. Because he is this man, he gets everything he wants, eventually.

About Control

To me, the most interesting part of my relationship is the control.  The physical elements aren't awfully groundbreaking, although they are exciting.  The physical part isn't hard for me to understand.  The control is different.  

In a way, I have a closer connection to the control than to the physical element of my relationship.  I crave it more, and more often.  It is something that I am connected to in a very visceral manner.  The fact that the nature of the craving for this control is somewhat a mystery to me is really puzzling and is something that I have been working through.  Because I am at the point where I have accepted all of my desires, I need to become more comfortable and fully understand control before I can move forward.  I am right on the cusp of that.  I need to do this to move ahead.

As an initial matter, what I mean when I speak about control: I mean all of the non-physical elements of our dynamic, those ones that occur outside of context of the bedroom.  I mean any rules or restrictions that I have, my bedtime, the guidelines that I follow when I speak to Him and any general guidelines on my behavior.  Occasionally the expression of His control can be harsh, but most often it is caring and benevolent.  He enforces my bedtime in order to help me look after myself and put my health first.  It is sweet and welcome for me.  On the whole, I don't think my rules are that onerous.  What is interesting is that they ebb and flow, increasing in intensity when I need them and relaxing when I need to focus elsewhere.  He is very in tune to my emotional state and uses control to serve his ends as my Owner, but He is also always careful to keep me in balance.

What do I feel when I am controlled?  Maybe if I can trace this backward I can figure it out.  In essence, I feel safe.  I feel like I have been wrapped in a warm blanket.  It is very comforting.  Sometimes when I am having a hard time, I will ask Him to speak to me over the phone in that tone of voice that he uses, the one that only I get to hear, and I am immediately calm.  We speak about feeling his hand on the back of my neck, which he physically does when we are together, but it also has a metaphorical component.  I am secure and guided by his hand on my neck.  I am comforted.

And I do not feel alone.  I think that is the most important part.  I have lived on my own since I left my parents' house at 18.  Several years ago, I left school and have been really on my own, with no professors or mentors looking after my welfare.  The years before I met Him were a challenge for me as I struggled to have that warm connection with a family and community that you do not get as an independent adult floating free in the world.  There was no one looking out for me but me, and that was a very scary feeling.  

Yes, I got to work on time every day and paid my bills like an adult, but those were just the superficial parts of taking care of myself.  There was an emotional component of being on my own that I found very difficult to handle.  I wondered, will I float through my entire life like this by myself?  The world is so big and I am so small.  There is no one who cares for me.

It's funny, because I lived with a man several years ago.  I never felt more alone than the two years that we lived together.  Yet I never feel alone now.  He is always with me because I carry Him in my heart everywhere I go.  I see Him less than the man I used to live with, but I feel less alone.  That is the difference between this relationship and my previous vanilla ones.  I am the center of His world, and He is the center of mine.  We are never alone, spiraling around the universe, untethered.  We bring each other back down to earth.  We make each other safe.

So the control is an unbelievably positive thing in my life, one that is about connection and emotional security.  It tells me that he loves me and that I am special and that He will always be here for me.  He has taken on the responsibility to care for me and I will never be alone again.  We take care of each other and we shelter each other from the world.  We are safe and we are forever.  

It is love.  I just know that it is.       

Daring

I thought I was over my period. Actually, I was, but it came back while I was fucking Him the other night. When He told me to get off of him and suck his cock, I saw a smear of blood on him and recoiled. I wasn't going to take him in my mouth like that. I just wasn't.

He saw what I saw and pushed me down toward his cock anyway. I whimpered and then shook my head slightly. I didn't want to disobey him, I feared bluntly saying "no," but I just couldn't do it. My eyes filled with tears as he persisted.

"Please Daddy, no, don't make me," I moaned, but he was unrelenting.

"Yes Kitten, now, take me in your mouth."

"But...but...," I sputtered, flailing my arms around helplessly. I balled up my fists and crushed them against my eyes, trying to block out what seemed inevitable.

"Just fucking do it," He growled.

I inched down toward his cock, looking anywhere but at him, trying to get out of this, trying to think of a solution. When it looked like I wouldn't be able to escape, I opened my mouth reluctantly and moved toward him.

But at the last possible second before my mouth touched his cock, he pulled me up and tenderly said, "That's enough." He sighed as he held me against him.

I should have felt relieved, but I was irate. How could he do that to me? It was a mindfuck, pure and simple. It was manipulation. It was humiliating. I was so stupid. I pushed against him, unwilling to feel grateful that he had let me go at the last second. Instead I felt a surge of hatred at what he did to me.

As he held me tighter, I struggled. "What do you feel right now?," he whispered, touching himself and watching me closely. "Mad," I grunted. "How could you do that?" I lost all sense of obedience and let my resentment course through my body.

"More, tell me more," he urged. I let the words spill from my mouth. "You can just do that, you can mess with me. You knew that I would do it if you asked. You fucked with me." I started beating my fists against his chest and I could see that he was growing more excited.

"Tell me, I know how you feel about me right now," he growled.

"I hate you, that's how I feel, I hate you," I shouted as I hit him in a frenzy. I was a blur of aggression, but he kept me held tightly to him throughout. I was angry but I was safe, venting everything that I held pent up inside me.

And then he came all over me in a rush of sighs and moans. He brushed my hair back from my face as I laid next to him in stunned silence. What had just happened?

"I control all of you, Kitten," he said, looking down at me. "I can bring everything out of you, everything that you've been hiding. I know that you hate that I can make you do anything, but sometimes you need to be reminded."

I smiled at him ruefully, giving him one last bump on his chest with my fist before cuddling deep in his arms.

Love

I haven't been posting here. I apologize. I've been trying to live outside my head for a while, but you know how difficult that can be. I had to come back here to be with you and to talk over those things that only you and I understand. It is so isolating sometimes. I tried to share a part of myself with a close friend recently and it went very badly, so I have retreated. I know that no one understands except you reading here and blogging out there about this life.

This is mostly my fault because I cannot explain this to myself, let alone someone else. Like, how do you put this kind of love into words when you don't even understand what this kind of love is to begin with? Sometimes I think that it isn't love at all, that it is just control and anger and hatred dressed up as something else. It isn't care and protection. Sometimes it is just power for power's sake. How can hurting me so badly, emotionally, serve any end other than to show me how much He hates me? Why else would he do this to me?

I am going on a trip in a few months and it has already been decided that my suitcase will be inspected and He has already made it known that I am not trusted by myself on this trip. That may not seem like a big deal to any of you, but it seems like an intrusion and a declaration that I am not a competent adult who cannot be on her own without suspicion. It's not a test. It just is. I can choose to leave if I don't want to put up with it, but who throws away their whole life based on one thing like that? But that's where they get you...it is one thing today and tomorrow it is another thing and before you know it, your whole life is under siege. Then you look back and wonder where you made the decision to stay and you see that did it every day in a million little ways and that you didn't understand where it was going. And I don't see how that can be love. It seems like something else.

Of all of the things that got me into this, the emotional control is the part I understood the least. I didn't expect it and I didn't see how it tied into the sexual control or ownership or any of that. I am still at a loss to understand it even now, even after it has become the predominant force is my life. I know that I crave it on some level. I can feel it deep in my stomach, that sort of swooping sensation when he puts his hand on my neck and tells me that he owns me. I know that's the desire for control, or maybe the fear of it that gets crossed with desire. There are a lot of crossed wires in my head.

I know that he craves it too. He craves the brutality just like I do, although I think he fears it a great deal less. The other night I was airing some grievance with him and I was speaking a little more forcefully than was appropriate. I could see the burning in his eyes and I quickly stopped. Later he told me that he wanted to hit me so hard in that moment and I immediately felt an electric charge shoot between us. We both wanted it, but if he had actually hit me in that moment? It would have destroyed me and I would have felt an unbelievable sense of betrayal. I know, because it has happened before. There is confusion about destruction for the purpose of rebuilding me and destruction for its own sake. What happens when they look the same from my position on the floor?

He scares me so much sometimes that I wonder about his motivations. He scares me the most those times when he lets up on me suddenly, when he stops the pain and the cruelty, and he draws me into him. I am still scared and defiant and fighting, I want to push him away, but I am out of strength. I collapse on him and start to cry and he comforts me and I wonder, what kind of love is this?

Holiday Illusions

I never used to think that people could get talked into things. I never believed in brainwashing or coercion, not if you were an adult and were of adequate I.Q. How do cult leaders get people to follow them, abandon their whole livelihoods, without threatening, without force? With the power of words and the power of the mind.

I never thought that I was weak or that I could be talked into anything. I was stubborn and knew my own mind. But now, I bend. I am pliant, I twist whichever way the wind is blowing. When I am mad at Him and have had enough, when he has disappointed me so greatly that I do not think that I can go on with him, I lose all of my strength before I can even begin to fight. I try to take a stand, I even try to take a day to think things out, and He will not let me. There are veiled threats, but in the end they are just words. He would not hurt me, right?

He tells me that I cannot be alone. He tells me that I must be under his care, that he cannot abandon his Kitten in the cold. He tells me that he knows what is best for me and that I cannot decide for myself. I protest, I whine that I can do whatever I want, I stomp my foot. I could change my locks and spend Christmas alone, tell everyone that we are through and that I am done with Him. But in the end I fall defeated. I am just a petulant child who cannot take care of herself and cannot be without Him. He is right.

Sometimes giving up is easier than fighting. His words and his tone, the gentle lull of his voice...they deflate me and I cannot stand up for what I thought I wanted. Sometimes it is easier to give in than to be overpowered. Maybe there is strength there too? Maybe if I look hard enough, I can find it. Knowing that this is all I am, that I cannot be alone, is a form of submission. It is a final acceptance. It is the ultimate surrender.

So while last week I thought that I would be a strong woman and walk away from Him for doing something that so upset me, I did not. I admitted that I am just a little girl playing a woman at work and that I cannot be free. I resumed my Christmas shopping for Him, I fell soft into the bliss of making cookies and sending out holiday cards. I pretended like nothing had happened because there was nothing I could do about it. I could not be alone, stand by myself, endure all of those dark nights with all of that pain. He convinced me.

Voluntary Reality

I have a rich fantasy life.

No, that's not exactly true. It's vivid, but it's not particularly varied. I've relied on the same masturbatory scenarios for years.

They are all similar, even in their difference. They all are semi-public. I am being used, sometimes harshly. I am exposed and humiliated. There is usually more than one person there. He is leading, but the others are faceless. Often there are hands touching and sensations without reason.

But almost always...more than one person there, either participating or watching.

I haven't sought this out. I don't go around trying to recreate these scenarios. They are in my head and they are safe, tucked away where I can control them.

He knows about these fantasies and he thinks that it is his job to fulfill them. Plus they suit his needs. He wants to see me shared and passed around. He needs to see that, for whatever reason. He wants to know that I made someone else moan like I make Him moan, and he gets pleasure out of just that idea. He is making this happen, even though I did not ask for it.

But I cannot now deny that I wanted this. I have thought about it for years. How can I say now that I don't want this? He has been there as I confessed these fantasies, he saw the physical evidence of my arousal. He knows.

Will I be able to perform the way that he wants? Will I be able to hold it together? It will just be sex, it won't be intimacy like with Him. How do I go back to just sex after more than a year of the closest, most intense physical connection I have ever had with one person? I know that I have been trained, I know how to shut off that part of me and focus on being what he wants. But putting theory into practice is something else entirely.

The Last Part

"That last part?," I said quietly as we laid staring at the ceiling, sated. I spoke into the darkness with a hesitancy, uncertain how my thoughts would be received.

"That last part felt like...it felt like you should pay me afterward." I let the words hang there. I couldn't hear Him breathing.

After a moment, I heard the sheets rustle as he turned toward me. He put his lips close to my ear. "You liked that, didn't you, you dirty girl," he murmured slowly.

I wonder if He could see me blush in the dark.

Sudden

Things escalated quite quickly. We were slightly tipsy, and a routine blow job was rapidly turning into something much more aggressive. He choked me roughly and knocked me off of my knees onto my ass. He came after me, even as I tried to scuttle away. He knelt over my prone body and fucked my face harder. I wondered if He had lost track of how much I could take.

Before I could protest though, He picked me up and deposited me on my hands and knees on the bed. He reached around my waist to unbutton my jeans and pulled them down to mid-thigh. I expected him to take them all the way off of me, but instead he thrust into me from behind in one quick movement. I cried out in surprise, but the sound was muffled by the comforter. He was pressing on my upper back so that my face was smushed into the bed. He fucked me harder and harder, spurred on by my quiet screams into the mattress.

It was amazing, and so sudden. It was unexpected. There was nothing I could do but let myself be taken. As he pushed my head down and thrust into me more furiously, I was calm.

Back Slide

I remember spending some time in August reflecting on my submission. I thought about how far I'd come and how strong I was after the trials of the spring. I couldn't believe what He had led me to accomplish in those months. I wasn't afraid of anything that I had done in the past and was feeling like I could handle anything we approached next.

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.

Floating

After the ups and downs of August, September has settled into a predictable rhythm. Not that predictability is bad. If anything, I'm a creature of habit and ritual. I am happy to be back at balance with Him.

What does balance look like for us? Sometimes it can look awfully vanilla, like a Saturday afternoon at Target buying new hand towels for my apartment or a quiet dinner at our favorite local Chinese place. Later, behind closed doors, there will be pulled hair and tears and commands. But for a time, we look like any other couple you'd see. That ordinariness is soothing after some of the tumultuous times that we have had lately.

I like to hide in our vanilla facade sometimes. I like to think that there is nothing deviant or unusual about us. I don't know why, but I like spending my weekend doing things that I can actually tell my coworkers about on Monday.

I am looking forward to fall and our anniversary. I am looking forward to the cool, crisp evenings like the evening of our first encounter. It turned cool as we touched for the first time, and the breeze blew in the open windows. There was rain and beautiful lightning. It was the last gasp before the cold.

We fell in love in the cold and I cannot wait to be back there again. I cannot wait for the long, dark nights huddled in my bed with Him. I am desperate for the silence of winter, the weekends snowed inside, completely buffeted from the outside world. That is what I wish for from Him more than anything - solace, complete isolation, being wrapped warm in his control. As the months tick by, I imagine myself completely encased in cotton, as if I am packed away. I cannot hear or move. I can see the bright white all around me. Everything is quiet.

I am not done with this space, not even close. I know that I have updated less frequently and I will get back on track soon. For now, know that I am well and that I am happy. Trust that we are still on our path and we are in lockstep, going wherever we are headed.

Trouble, Part II

I don't know what I was thinking when I accepted a last-minute lunch invitation from my friend Paul. I wasn't thinking, actually. While I consider Paul to be a platonic friend because we have known each other for 8 years, that has not always been the case. We were lovers, briefly, five or six years ago. When our affair fizzled out, we reverted to being just friends again.

But He is wary of Paul and does not like that we remain in contact. So later that afternoon when I told him over the phone about my lunch, he got very quiet. He ended the call quickly, but I thought I was in the clear.

Until the e-mails started coming through. "You really enjoy your freedom, don't you? You may have less of it very soon."

And: "You'll be dealt with accordingly."

And: "I am not pleased at all."

He commanded me to get a paddle before he saw me over the weekend. More shockingly, he canceled our meeting that night. I would be forced to stay home and think about what I had done and contemplate how I had forced him to implement new stricter rules.

When I arrived home that night, He was waiting in his car outside my building. It was a wonderful surprise after a harrowing day. "I knew that you shouldn't be alone tonight," he whispered into my hair as I hugged him. "I knew my kitten needed me with her tonight."

As we talked inside, he laid out my new rules and restrictions. He will monitor my phone use when in his presence and review all texts and e-mails that I receive or send during that time. He set out specific instructions for my conduct with my friends, including remaining by his side or at his feet and deferring to him before I speak. He required me to come to him for approval for all social engagements, no matter how innocent. And I was not to see Paul again.

"That's not fair," I said quietly, twisting my hands in my lap and staring at the floor as I knelt at his feet. "He's my friend. Nothing happened. It's not fair."

He sat there passively with a benevolent look on his face. "I know," he said with a hint of false sympathy. "It isn't fair. But that is the way that it is going to be."

I cried and protested for a while longer. I could see how things would go in the worst scenario: I would alienate Paul completely, I'd lose my other friends under the weight of his restrictions. I would cease to be a grown woman who decides what she can do and when. I would be turned into a child who must ask permission to go outside to play with her friends and He would become the parent who would have the power to say no and keep me inside.

"Kitten, do you accept your new rules?," he asked. I continued to look at the ground and mumbled a reluctant yes. "No, you have to really accept them. I'm not convinced that you understand why you need this."

"I don't need this!," I exclaimed. "I'm a good girl! I didn't do anything with Paul!"

"It's not about that. It is about you needing more discipline in your life." He paused. "You feel pretty free most of the time, don't you?"

"Yes," I said flatly. (Had he been reading my blog?)

"You're freer than a lot of other girls out there. It's getting in the way of your training. I need to hold you on a tighter leash and I need you to feel me there with you always. I need you not to forget that you're owned...ever."

"Well, what about my friend Ted? I kissed him during freshman year of college! I think it was with tongue!," I roared incredulously. "That was ten years ago, but are you going to forbid me from seeing him too?"

"No, Kitten, you know that I'm fair with you. As long as you don't give me a reason to doubt you," he smiled. "I need you to look me in the eye and accept your rules."

"Or what? What's the other option?"

"There is no other option," he said.

I started crying, feeling truly trapped for the first time. I thought that I could work my way out of this situation, or play to his forgiving nature. But he wasn't budging. It wasn't even the punishment that I had coming. I would worry about that later. It was the prospect of spending the rest of my life like this, being shut in a series of progressively smaller cages.

He cupped my chin in his hand and forced me to look up at him. "You want submission when it's easy. When it's convenient for you?" I opened my mouth to protest then quickly closed it. He was right. "Now do you see that accepting this will be good for you? You need to learn this lesson."

I took a deep breath and nodded. I looked right at him and said, "I accept."

There was a heaviness in my heart as he held me and told me that I was a good girl for accepting the new rules. I pouted for the rest of the night and cried again before bed that night. I slept fitfully. But I woke cradled in his arms, and everything felt safe and right again.

Trouble

Are there scarier words in a submissive's world than "you will be dealt with accordingly?"

Maybe these words. An e-mail from earlier today, when I messed up big time:

You have an assignment. There is no choice but to follow these orders.

You have today after work and tomorrow to get it done. Find that sex shop near your job. Get a paddle. Any paddle.......and have it ready.

Also an enema.....

Have both of those things ready for me to use this weekend. I know it's not much time, but that's the way it's going to be.

Got it?

Yes, Sir.

Bedtime

We were discussing the things that others do - comparing a bit, wondering what motivated others in their particular kink. It was an idle conversation. I mentioned quietly that some girls have bedtimes and that, come to think of it, I would like a bedtime since I struggle with regulating my own sleep schedule. He picked up on it right away, and a passing comment turned into so much more.

Later that night, he tucked me into bed with a whole new set of bedtime rules. He explained that I would have to be in bed by 11:30 pm on weekdays. I will have no set bedtime on weekends unless I have an early morning obligation, in which case He will determine my bedtime. On nights when we are apart, I can talk to him on the phone past 11:30 pm, but I must be in bed. He will try not to keep me up on the phone past that time and I should be making an effort from 11:30 pm on to get to sleep.

As he laid out the rules for me, I snuggled deeper under the blankets. I happily squirmed a bit, feeling loved and controlled. He would take care of me. He would make sure that I got enough sleep. He would look out for his little girl.

When he was finished, he picked up my book of short stories and started to read. His voice was calm and deep; he read slowly and with great inflection. The light in my bedroom was dim and I soon found my eyelids to be very heavy. I would just close my eyes and listen to the story, I thought. But before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep completely, lulled by his voice and the wonderful warm feeling of being owned.

I awoke briefly as he put the book down and tucked the blankets around me before shutting off the bedside lamp. I heard the door click shut before I slipped deep into sleep.