D/s marriage on hold indefinitely

I know a lot of new D/s couples go through these “we lost the dynamic!” crises in the early stages of their D/s relationship, but this is different. My husband has a gambling addiction that flared up again last week, and I’ve finally accepted this isn’t going away even though he promises never to do it again. Maybe I’d believe him if it wasn’t the bazillionth time I’ve heard that.

Therefore I’ve lost the trust and respect necessary to submit to him at this time. It’s also triggered an episode of situational depression in me, which manifests as apathy. “I don’t give a fuck if the house is a mess, clean it your own god damn self. It’s your fucking laundry anyway.” Etc. Some pretty harmful and unhealthy thoughts, to say the least. So yeah, D/s is pretty much the last thing on my mind right now.

Moved back to WordPress.com

I didn’t realise how many features you lose from switching to WordPress.org! No comments in the reader and it only shows part of your post. Crappy! So I’m cancelling that hosting since it’s within 30 days, and I’ll just point my domain at the free site.

WORDPRESS HACK!

Interestingly, WordPress seems to do this cool auto URL thing… My domain ledainhand.ca redirects to ledainhand.wordpress.com and yet the old links still worked. e.g. http://ledainhand.ca/little actually works and automatically goes to https://ledainhand.wordpress.com/2017/10/29/little/ which was totally confusing at first. Then I did an experiment… what happens if you use https://ledainhand.wordpress.com/little/? Yep, that works too!

So that’s my amateur WordPress tip of the day! It makes it a little easier to link to your own posts, and apparently if you have domain re-directing, then yourkinkyblog.com/slug goes to yourkinkyblog.wordpress.com/slug which goes to yourkinkyblog.wordpress.com/2020/02/29/slug

Bonus, I won’t lose any sleep over broken links. I’m so thrilled and honoured to have been linked (Thank you!!) and I’m relieved I don’t have to trouble anyone to update links (in fact, I prefer the ledainhand.ca/slug links because they’re more permanent, in case I ever move hosts again).

Am I a little? Yes, but no.

I’m fascinated that “little” is such a popular D/s identity.

I have to admit, I’ve been struggling with this whole little thing for myself, personally. It’s been on my mind a bit lately, because it seems to be so big in the scene right now. Or maybe I’m just noticing because it’s been on my mind lately? One can never be sure. Regardless. Every time I hear self-identified littles talk about the behaviours they exhibit when they’re “being a little” or “letting their little out,” I think “I do that all the time… does that make me a little?”

I giggle and skip, sometimes I talk in a soft child-like voice, sometimes I whine a bit although I try not to (I hate whining in real kids, and hate it even more in adults, but sometimes I feel shitty and whining just comes out). I even started colouring earlier this year, long before this whole D/s thing, because it’s fun and adult colouring is totally “a thing” now. Swinging on a swing set has always been one of my favourite activities. I run up to them every chance I get, swing as high as I can, and then get scared because I usually swing higher than I can still feel in control.

So by all rights, that makes me a little right? Well, no, it doesn’t.

Here we are back to labels. I feel zero resonance with the label “little” or “little girl” or “baby girl.”

I believe reason why comes back to cognitive dissonance. I’ve never been forced to suppress my inner child, it’s just always been a healthy part of my personality. It enters in varying degrees to every facet of my existence. I’ve always been playful, even in professional environments. I’m silly and goofy, and I don’t turn it off when I go out into the grown-up world. I have never failed to giggle when someone farts — I just can’t help it! I’ve never had a problem letting my inner child out whenever she wants (within reason). Since she’s never been stifled or suppressed, she doesn’t feel the need to express herself at inappropriate times. She hasn’t gotten twisted up into this “thing” that’s some kind of entity unto herself and needs to be let out in safe and controlled ways. She’s just the immature, playful part of my own self.

For his part, Zeus has always encouraged this side of me. He’s playful too, and we’ve always had a lot of fun with that. He’s naturally the protective type and seems to enjoy taking care of me when I need it.

There is no way in Hell I will ever call him “Daddy.” No judgement on those who do! But he’s got a complicated relationship with his own daughter, plus my dad’s still alive and we have a good relationship. Just, nope. Not going there. I mentioned it to him only enough to say “I’ve been reading about this thing, and yesterday I almost had an urge to call you Daddy but it didn’t feel right.” and his response was “Thank you for not.” with a tone that confirmed my suspicion that it would shut him right down, not just the scene but probably for the day.

So there we have it, other than dressing up like a kid (and really, have you seen the way kids dress these days?? There’s no such thing anymore!), I have the behavioural tendancies of a little, but I don’t identify as one. I might keep an eye out for little events and discussions, just because it will be interesting and fun to basically be myself and have it be “a thing,” but mostly I’m just me.

Oh, and in case you’re curious: Results from bdsmtest.org

submissive? masochist? nah… Labels Shmabels

I’m generally not big on labels for myself, though I understand and appreciate how they help many people find community and acceptance for things they thought were freakish. Naming a thing is powerful, whether it’s a kink, an orientation, or a deep personal need. When people learn that this thing they believed they were the only person on the planet to feel that way about is actually common enough to be named, that can give them a huge sense of acceptance.

However, I dislike the way labels sometimes get used against people, even (especially?) by others who use those labels.

I dislike the way they sometimes become “prescriptive” rather than “descriptive.” They become a set of rules you must follow in order to be allowed to use that label, rather than a quick and easy way to recognise like-minded individuals. It’s sad that people try to change their behaviour in order to fit a label that either they’ve chosen or has been given to them. This is especially troublesome when the pressure to change that behaviour is external, from some social group refusing to accept you unless you follow their prescription — as though the label is some kind of club to which you have to gain membership. Sometimes you might not fit a label exactly perfectly, but it’s the closest thing you’ve found so far.

Too many people get so hung up on their label and what it means for them, that they assume they know everything about everyone who uses that label. And in reverse, some people become the “label police” and start dictating who may and may not use the labels, based on whether they fit some arbitrary criteria.

At the same time, I do understand and appreciate how much they give some people a sense of acceptance and identity. That’s how I felt about Polyamory, and this is probably the reason it’s the only label I consistently keep. I spent all my childhood assuming I would never get married, since that meant you had to be with just one person for the rest of your life, and even as a child that sounded absolutely preposterous to me. In adolescence, I learned about hippies and free love, and realised there were other options, but that still didn’t resonate fully as it seemed more about sex and casual relationships. It wasn’t until I heard the term “polyamory” and started researching it, that I realised I could have my cake and eat it too. I could have all the comforts and joys of a loving life partnership, along with the freedom of being able to explore relationship opportunities that happen to fall in my lap.

I’ve identified as polyamorous ever since I learned it was a thing, because having a word for it resolved my cognitive dissonance. But I didn’t grow up with fantasies of submission or pain, so I didn’t have any dissonance to resolve in those areas. Therefore I don’t consider myself “a submissive” but I submit to my husband, and I don’t consider myself “a masochist” but I love being spanked and bitten, sometimes pretty hard, and that hurts but I like it as long as there’s enough sensuality to go with it.

I enjoy submitting to my husband because… well… really it just happened by accident and it was fun and fulfilling, so we kept doing it. I have trouble imagining anyone else whose joy and happiness I would genuinely care about the way I do his, and that’s really what drives most of it. He’s done so much for me, given me so much, and all so selflessly and without expectation, and it just feels so good to be on the other end of that for a change. And for his part, Zeus doesn’t identify as “a Dominant,” although he does enjoy dominating. He’s firmly a switch. As much as he loves getting a reaction out of people, he loves bottoming, he loves subspace, and he loves letting go and being taken to places.

I have a strong tendency to jump into every new thing head first. Zeus is far more careful and cautious. Now that the sub-frenzy is starting to wear off, I’m starting to feel less frantic and desperate about being submissive. As a result, I’m feeling less of a need to identify with labels. I’m genuinely feeling more ready to be patient and follow Zeus as he guides the show. I’m going through the process of updating my kinks list, and I’m writing out my “Wants / Needs” document. I’m committed to getting better at communicating, especially learning when not to communicate! It’s good that I have my blog now, because I can work through a lot of my thoughts without dumping them on him, and he can read them whenever’s a good time for him.

Sir has an allowance??

DDJennifer’s post reminded me that I had wanted to write about our finances, especially since we have one of those “smart husband turns over the money to his financially responsible wife” type marriages, and that won’t actually change with the introduction of D/s.

Some background

I’ve always been the frugal saver type. Seeing a bank account balance grow is reward enough in itself. The fact that you can later use that money to buy some large item and pay cash with no interest (or better yet, compound interest in your favour) was always a bonus for me. I was just happy to see the money grow. Zeus, on the other hand, subscribes to the philosophy that since you can’t take it with you, you’d might as well spend it. All of it. And heck, why stop there?

When we met, Zeus had a $500 overdraft. If I asked him how much money he had left until payday and he would say $300, I had to ask him he actually had $300, or that he was $200 into his overdraft and it was $300 before his debit card stopped working… “Uh, Yeah. That one.”

He was making monthly payments on a laptop. I’d seen those commercials but I didn’t even think that was a real thing. Like, who does that? I remember at the time, he was like 40% into the payment term and the remaining payments added up to more than buying a new one cash. It was ridiculous.

I put an end to that. This was control-freak-Leda, and I was not starting a life partnership with someone who was going to drain my accounts and destroy my finances. No way, nah uhn, no how. I paid off that laptop from my own savings, paid off his student loans from more of my savings, and made him agree not to get any more credit.

Now don’t get me wrong. Zeus is and was an EXCELLENT provider. He has never been more than a week without work, no matter how bad the job market. He’s just one of those people who gets the job done, doesn’t fuck around, and takes pride in creating efficiencies wherever he can. He loves to work, he takes pride in his ability to log long hours, and he enjoys pushing himself. So at no point have I ever worried about my financial security. However, his spending habits have always reflected his earning ability. He enjoys the finer things in life, doesn’t think he should live like a pauper when he’s working so hard, and doesn’t mind spending some money frivolously just for fun. That being said, he also started to see the value of saving after the first time we paid cash for a car (used of course!). When we eventually paid cash for a 40′ mobile home, he was sold. He still didn’t want to pinch every penny, but he was comfortable with some stricter boundaries.

Nuts & Bolts of our finances

My accounting system is ridiculously complicated. Just like me. We have one joint chequing, some investments, a joint savings, and then a pile of individual chequing accounts we use for day-to-day spending.

All the income goes into the joint account, and the bills get paid from that account. We both have access on paper, but Zeus doesn’t touch it in practice. Some retirement savings gets taken off before we even see the paycheque. Then I take some more off as a pre-authorized contribution, again before I do the rest of the budget. I strongly subscribe to the “pay yourself first” philosophy. I always pay myself again last, but I’ll get to that. Then I transfer money into my chequing account for our household spending, calculate how much is left over and put some more in savings, and then I transfer Zeus his allowance.

The Dominant has an allowance???

Like I said, Zeus is seriously bad with money. Part of it is his generous nature, he’ll buy coffees for his crew if they work hard on a crappy day for example. A lot of it is that he just feels he works hard so he deserves to treat himself. Like, all the time. Until there’s no money left.

Over the years, we’ve worked out some good, legitimate compromises. Not those “compromises” where really one person gets steamrolled and the other gets their way. We both gave in a little — I got comfortable with a little less savings and he got comfortable with a little less spending — and came up with some pretty good mechanisms. They worked really well for us. The funny thing for D/s is that they’re completely role-reversed.

Zeus makes the money. I make bits of money here and there, but he’s the one who keeps us housed, fed, and entertained. And yet he’s the one who has an allowance. The amount has changed dramatically over the years, depending on how much is coming in and what fixed bills we have going out, along with what savings goals we might have at the moment and how close we are to them. But ultimately, it was always my responsibility to say “no” when he would ask for money and we couldn’t really afford it.

D/s or d/$?

The thing is, I was never good at saying no to him. I mean, he’s the one who worked for it. It’s “his” money. I just manage it. And spend a bunch of it. And save it. But wife or not, it’s his money initially. Unless we were really really tight, I pretty much always just said yes. I didn’t tell him what the situation was or anything, I usually just hummed and hawed, then decided that we would take money out of savings for his massage or steak and lobster dinner, because he wanted to. Meanwhile, his strategy was just to ask me for as much money as possible until I say no, assuming I would always be the same hardass I was when we met (the one who basically always said no, until he felt completely used an unappreciated because he never got to spend any of his money). I think it took him a few years to actually admit that was his strategy, I never figured it out on my own. But even when he told me, I still pretty much just said yes all the time. I would get way past my comfort level before even telling him how far over budget we were, and even then not say “not” just tell him it’s coming from savings. It seems I was incapable of finding middle ground on my own, I would either save every penny possible and never “let” him spend any of his own money, or else I would let him spend as much as he wanted with me as the lamest possible checkpoint in the system.

Well, now we’re going to try a new strategy. In a lot of ways, the day-to-day financial management won’t change. I’ll still track the spending and draw up the budgets for the household expenses. I’ll setup the pre-authorised transfers for savings (which have been on hold until we decided what to do with our money in the stock market… spoiler alert: we pulled half of it out and shoved it into our mortgage).

Here’s where it changes: We’ll sit down every month and go over how much money is left after expenses (i.e. bills, household, and regular savings), and he will decide how much of it will be spent on luxury items and how much will go into extra savings (e.g. to pay down the mortgage or go on a second trip). Then, with him having decided what he’s spending that month, it will be my task to track it and keep him updated. I’ll put the savings amount into “untouchable” savings and “his” money into an account where I can transfer it as he wants it.

I think this will work so much better for us, on a lot of levels. It should alleviate his frustration of making all the money and then never feeling like he “gets” to spend any of it: now he’ll be 100% in charge of how much discretionary spending gets saved vs spent, so he can’t grumble that he’s not getting to spend any of it. And I won’t feel like I’m being pressured to agree to something that I’m not really comfortable with (i.e. him spending every last penny that I can’t sneak into savings). It also helps my need for predictability, since we’ll decide at the beginning of the month how much money he’s going to spend, and then that’s that, rather than asking me to make new financial decisions every other day depending on his mood, or when I may not be in a good headspace for financial decisions (distracted, tired, hungry, etc). And then from the D/s stance, it’s not “me giving him an allowance from his own money.” It’s him making his own budget, and I’m just setting up the mechanisms (automatic transfers twice per week is what we’ve been doing lately, since then he never has to go more than 3 days without cash).

More than anything, I’m looking forward to how much this will reduce my stress. It’s always been such an impossible responsibility having the person who makes the money ask you if they can go spend some of it on something you know they really like. What are you supposed to say to that? If I say no, it’s like he’s not worth it or that I’m just trying to hoard all his money. But if I always say yes, then I feel like we’re going broke because I’m taking money out of savings for luxuries. This way, I’m not giving permission, I’m just telling him whether there’s money left in the budget he chose for himself. Overall, I think that will both alleviate my stress about being responsible for someone else’s spending, and also help him become more responsible with his own spending by not relying on someone else to make the decision for him.

What’s for dinner?

Well there’s still a bug with my comments, but at least my posts are in the reader again! I was so scared, I felt like I’d completely lost touch with my community! If anyone was following me through reader, there a a couple posts you’ll have missed. Juicy ones, too!

Delicious Cock Sweat (Oct 22)

Sir doesn’t want to break his wife (Oct 24)

And for my part, sorry for not visiting or being active on any other blogs. Between pouring over forum posts and trying to get in touch with Jetpack support, I barely had time to finish my tasks and throw something together for dinner!

Speaking of throwing something together for dinner, I think I’ll include some actual content here. I was chatting with a friend the other day, he’s having trouble motivating himself to cook at home instead of eating out all the time. I was reflecting on that. I totally used to have that problem. I wouldn’t even begin to think of “what” to cook for dinner, because it wasn’t even a given “that” I would could something for dinner. Maybe we would go out, or maybe I would throw in a frozen something. Once in a blue moon I would be motivated and cook something just for fun, freeze it up, and then actually forbid Sir from eating certain things because I wanted them for my lunches (I’m vegetarian and it’s hard to find food options on campus).

Now, it’s not even a question. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means on top of this yet. Habits like this take time to build. But at least the motivation is not a problem anymore. Sir will phone in the afternoon, maybe a few hours before he’ll be home and a couple hours more before he’ll want dinner. Plenty of warning! He’ll casually but deliberately ask “So what’s for dinner?” Not so much because he cares — he’s always been one of those awesome husbands who’s pretty much happy with whatever I make (as long as it doesn’t have cilantro or cumin) — but as an indirect but obvious way to remind me: make something for dinner, wife!

I actually really like it. I’ve always enjoyed cooking once I got started on something, but I always had trouble getting started. I have really strong inertia. If I’m resting, I tend to stay resting. If I’m moving, I tend to stay moving. Generally I tend to be resting more than moving. That’s just my energy. I used to think that meant I was lazy, but my yoga teacher in India reframed that for me. Some people just have more restful, peaceful energy and some people have more powerful, moving energy. Neither is better or worse, both make the work complete, and it’s important for everyone to have balance. It taught me to accept my restfulness as a personality trait rather than a flaw. But as someone who likes to stay resting, it’s hard to get up and start dinner. So now that it’s not a question of “if” but “what,” it’s so much easier to get something on the table, even if it’s still just throwing something together. That’s just a practice and imagination thing, the basic problem is solved!

I’ve also noticed that I’m just a lot more at peace at home now that it’s clean all the time, another thing I’m doing “for” Sir but enjoy for myself as well. Triple dido for the professional development he’s pushing me to do, since it keeps me active and engaged… even if it does cause occasional panic attacks when I accidentally break my blog and isolate myself from the rest of WordPress!!

Sir doesn’t want to break his wife

In Public vs Private Play Energy, I discussed an incident at a play party where Zeus played for hours with another woman. In that post, I focused more on the way play energy varies when he has a reactive crowd to feed off of versus at home when it’s just the two of us. I started this post right after the same discussion, a few weeks ago now, but hadn’t gotten around to finishing it until now.

For background in case you haven’t read the other post and can’t be bothered right now: While I was traveling, Zeus went to a Kinky camping event. He met a woman there with whom there was instant chemistry. He shared this experience with me later, but didn’t go into a lot of detail since it wasn’t relevant. We mostly talked about their ongoing D/s relationship that followed the party, and worked out the poly-ness of that¹. I later heard from a friend of mine that they’d played for “hours” during that weekend. Zeus hadn’t mentioned that part, although he had described it as intense. I have to admit to some envy when I found out about that, since when Zeus and I first started playing more kinkily (as if spell check didn’t flag “kinkily”), our play sessions lasted well under an hour. I was quite well and “satisfied” pretty much every time, I wasn’t “spent.” I could well have gone on.

In an effort to be communicative, I brought this up with Zeus and asked how it was that he’d been able to play for hours with another woman, but needed to stop after 20 minutes with his wife? I touched on this incident a little bit inbut that time I focused more on his energy levels during play.

His reasoning made perfect sense, and only reinforces my confidence in him as a Dominant. It can be summarised as: “Patience, Grasshopper².” In a nutshell, he didn’t want to break his wife.

He basically said that it’s one thing to play with some new toy at a public event, where she’s showing up independently and largely responsible for her own self. She’s consenting to play with a stranger, whom yes has been vetted by respected members of the (so-called-)community, but it’s still her responsibility to communicate whatever she needs to in order to be safe. Their play just happened to be really intense and last a long time. He did aftercare, spent time with her throughout the weekend, and provided contact information for afterwards in case she crashed and needed support. But ultimately, if something “broke” inside her as a result of the play that she consented to and that stayed within her stated limits, then it’s ultimately her responsibility to work through that. He could (and would) help her as much as he’s emotionally and psychologically able, but within reasonable boundaries of his life: work, marriage, etc. He wouldn’t be expected to drop everything in the middle of a busy work day and come to her rescue if she started having a real freak-out — that’s why she’s supposed to have her own friends and support network in place before playing like that with strangers!

Luckily nothing like that happened, and they actually developed an ongoing D/s relationship for a few weeks. It was a really good experience for everyone I think, although I have some regrets for how it ended (again, that’s another story). Part of me wonders if the universe’s purpose for that was actually to bring D/s into our marriage, but then I have a tendency to project that thinking on all kinds of things. Sometimes a butterfly just flaps its wings…

But I’m not a toy at some random kinky party. I’m the wife who, for the last 11 years, has whined about every spanking being too hard, who swore she hates giving blowjobs³, and who has never shown the least outwardly submissive behaviour. All of a sudden, I’m asking him to beat me, fuck my brains out, treat me like a sex object, and begging him to boss me around. He’s completely stunned. First he was worried that I was just trying to compete with this other woman⁴, and that’s where this was coming from. Then he saw the skip in my step when I’d follow the commands he’d experiment with, or the vibrancy of my eyes — the ones that turn grey when I’m sad and bright blue when I’m happy, and were bluer than he’d seen in years when we’d talk about spankings, submission, and eventually blowjobs (which I’m still obsessed with, thank you for asking. Yesterdays’s was especially delicious, and deserves a distraction with its own post). So that convinced him that my desire for submission was genuine, and wasn’t some desperate act to avoid dealing with poly feelings or something. And the more we played and experimented, the more he saw me liking it.

That explains the hesitancy, so then we move on to the duration and intensity of scenes. And basically, that comes down to baby steps and being careful that everything is absorbed properly before taking it up a notch.

Sigh. Dominants and their patience, am I right? Yeah, yeah, I know. *looks down and digs her toe in the floor, hands clasped behind her back, that look that every girl has when she knows you’re right and hates that she has to admit it*

As much as I want more more more, there is the factor that this leaves us plenty of places to “go.” I mean, if we started off with a four-hour scene right off the bat, that sets the bar pretty frickin high for subsequent sessions. So what consoling myself with is the knowledge that we’ll get there eventually, and that when we do, they’ll be so much more spectacular for the fact that we know what to avoid and what we like and how to cope with weird things, and all that good stuff. And it’s not like I’m not loving what we’re doing right now. Hmm, maybe I could start creating ever-more elaborate fantasies and write them down for the horny eyes of the internet, and give Sir some great material to draw from… ideas ideas.

¹ I’ll go into more detail about that another time

² omg I sooo want that to be my new pet name…

³ ha! if you filmed me 2 hours ago and showed it to 10 years ago me, I’d probably wonder where you got the body double).

⁴ That’s a pretty reasonable fear, and I’m actually surprised, to be honest, that I didn’t actually feel competitive with her. I mean, that would have been stupid. First of all, she’s a lovely woman who I could tell didn’t intend to steal my husband away. Second, my husband loves me to pieces and wouldn’t leave me, especially when we’re poly and if it came to it, he probably could have talked me into letting him keep her. I mean c’mon, you should see what this woman does with stovetops and toilets. My god, I’ve never seen them sparkle like that. And Sir? You probably never will again. Just sayin’. Yeah, it’s also possible that’s partially because I somewhat unofficially adopted her as my own submissive. Her fetlife profile had expressed an interest to serve a couple, and she was a pure service submissive. Given the choice between cleaning someone’s house or getting delicious spankings, she’d choose the former — of course, her preference is to clean someone’s house as a reward in itself, and then get delicious spankings as a bonus thank you! And that’s basically the arrangement they had worked out. So with Sir’s permission, I started leaving her little tasks of my own. She sent him a text once about how hot she thought it was to be given tasks by a woman 10 years younger than her! It was quite a trip anyway.

Delicious cock sweat

I was lucky enough to give the most delicious blowjob ever today.

Our outdoor plans this morning were thwarted by the rain, which gave us the opportunity to devote the whole morning to the talk we’d been planning for this weekend. One of the things Sir asked me about was what I wanted and needed both as a submissive and just for sexual fulfillment in general. I explained that one of the things I still really fantasize about is aggressive, throat-fucking blowjobs; but that I was worried that he just wasn’t that into blowjobs, and it sorta defeats the whole point if he’s just doing it for me. So he called me over and showed me his rock hard cock — asked if that looked like he wasn’t into it, and told me to start sucking. (Oh well, so much for talking).

Oh my god people, it was so beautiful. We were both hesitant at first. For my part, after all, the whole fantasy is to be forced into it (or rather, it be forced into me!) But ever the patient and caring Dom, he’s not going to do that until he’s sure I’ll really enjoy it, that the reality is going to live up to the fantasy (unlike the face slapping experiment!! I’d once felt an urge for something above the neck during another play session once and asked him to try slapping my face, but I didn’t enjoy it at all. Turned out I’d just needed a good biting.) So he put his hand on my head and gently but firmly pushed my head down a couple times, testing the waters. My gag reflex was being troublesome, since I was on my knees and bent over him sitting on the couch, which is probably the worst throat angle. But I worked through it (besides, the gagging is honestly half the fun sometimes) and was able to go all the way down repeatedly without throwing up (since that’s not our kink).

I’d also talked about anal play, so after letting me deep throat for a couple minutes, he instructed me to stand up, turn around, and sit on his cock. Oooo goodie, another position I’ve only fantasised about!

Now okay, what happened next is funny people, because at the time and for the past few hours, I totally forgot that I had my Diva Cup (menstrual cup) in. Neither one of us even realised it! I was bouncing around on there, probably shoving that thing right up my cunt. I didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, other than the fact that I don’t think we’ve done that position before so in a way it was all different. Real thigh buster, that one! You’d expect it to be poking out at him, but when I asked him after I realised later, he said he didn’t even notice (not that he had anything to distract him or anything, like a nice pink bum to spank and a bum hole to play with, which he concentrated very hard on I think since he did such a lovely gentle job of starting out with that — thank you Sir!)

After he grew tired of fucking my pussy, he had me resume my oral servicing. I got more and more into it as I went, gasping and gulping him in, shoving his dick so far down my throat I couldn’t even think about breathing. Eventually I needed to take a break from that so I could catch my breath, and I moved to licking the shaft and sucking his balls. I don’t know what it is about this act — filling my mouth with his sack — but the more I do it, the more and more I worship his cock. I used to have such an aversion to cocks in general. I would enjoy them for their penetrative benefits, but I thought they were gross to look at, even grosser to lick or suck, and forget about jizzing in my mouth. And to be honest, I’m not entirely sure I feel that much different about all the other cocks out there. It’s really something that’s grown out of the D/s, probably as a primal symbol of his masculinity and dominance. Cliché much? Oh biology, how I do love thee so.

Speaking of things I love, let’s get back to licking that beautiful cock and sucking those soft balls. I was running my tongue over every inch, discovering every nook and fold all over again, more and more eager with each moment. He was so salty and delicious, that I was utterly confused when he apologised for how he tasted. You see, Zeus has been working ridiculously long hours this week — just clocked in 42 hours overtime over the cycle, apparently, but they did sweet fuck all for the first 5 out of the 11 days, so you do the math — and last night was another late one. He hasn’t had a chance to take a proper shower in a few days, as we live a nomadic lifestyle so it’s not a simple matter of turning on the taps and hopping in.

But my dearest forgets some things. First, he married a hippie. I’ve always preferred real body odour over sharp cologne, and real body taste is just the natural corollary to that. Second, soap tastes like cilantro. Well, not to me, but he has that gene. I much prefer the salty, tangy taste of sweat over yucky, icky soap. I mean I appreciate the gesture of cleanliness and all, but I’m a big fan of water-only bathing as much as possible. I use Dr. Bronner’s on my armpits and hair, and my hands whenever they’re “dirty,” but I don’t feel the need to wash off every bacterium or drop of sweat that comes near my epidermis. Those things are all part of a healthy human biome.

I summarised this deep, insightful response very eloquently. I believe it went something like “wuh-uhn, I wike ih. Thoap is wukky awyway.” and went back to my worship. Because Zeus is not an ejaculator (he prefers to keep going, and retain his energy… it’s a tantric thing), I have learned to accept that I don’t get to have him fill my mouth. Perhaps eventually I’ll be gifted that treat, but that’s for him to decide when of course. So eventually I eased off and it got gentler and gentler, ending with soft kisses and licks with my head resting on his thighs. It was such a tender, loving moment. I felt so connected to him, and so utterly submissive. I had my beautiful tears still wetting my face from the earlier throat work, and a slight sniffle from the same. Ear, nose, and throat, right? Luckily my hearing seems unaffected.

Thank you for letting me wash your feet

You’ve been working long hours this week, and I’ve been trying to serve you however I know how, but it hasn’t been easy. You’re so independent and accustomed to doing for yourself. You weren’t raised to accept help from people. But during the day yesterday, I had a growing feeling that making coffee and keeping the place clean wasn’t enough. Those have already become habit.

I was happy when you phoned from the truck and asked me to have a beer ready when you came in. I was happy when you handed me your things to take, without word or surprise that I wanted to take them.

But still I wanted to do more for you. Since I’ve always been an asker, once I had the idea, it came easily enough to ask: “Please, let me do something for you. I don’t have anything specific in mind [knowing how much he knows I now giving blowjobs, and knowing how much blowjobs never really were “his thing,” I wanted to make it clear I wasn’t asking to give him a blowjob — although I would gladly have obliged!]. Just whatever would help you most to unwind after work. You’ve had such a long day, please let me take care of you.”

Well that worked! You always have been a pleaser, after all. I guess sometimes the only way to get your Dominant to let you serve him is to make it clear he’s doing you a favour. I’m paranoid of Topping from the bottom these days. Given my control-freak nature (which I’m learning is extremely common among submissives!), I find I’m constantly checking myself to see if what I’m asking for is more for me or for you. I’ll admit it, I was definitely asking for this for me, for my submission. But I absolutely wanted it to be something you actually wanted, otherwise what’s the point?

You’re so clever, as always. Your poor feet were laced up in those wicked mean workboots all day. Your socks were probably on day 3 or 4 and were starting to get a little…ripe. You asked me to rub some tea tree oil into them. I asked if you would like a hot footbath too, and you decided that sounded nice. I got that ready for you and they soaked for a good hour or so, with me adding more hot water as needed. After enough of that, I washed and dried your feet before rubbing in the tea tree oil. It was such a pleasure to do something you truly enjoyed and that really benefited you at the end of the long day.

I keep reading all these blogs and forum posts about Dominants who always use their submissives sexually to unwind, and honestly I get a little envious sometimes, since that’s a fantasy of mine. And it’s not even that I’m sexually unfulfilled, because I’m not. Well, I don’t think I am anyway. I mean I would probably enjoy more sex, if I’m being honest. But it’s not like I’m walking around feeling horny and unfulfilled all the time. Actually, I don’t even want to be “fulfilled” in my fantasies — that’s the whole point. I just want to be objectified into a dirty little cum hole. But that’s not your style. And ultimately, that not being your style as a man is probably what I love most about you. And D/s is a process, we’re taking it slow. I’m sure we can negotiate some scenes down the road, once we get more comfortable with all this (especially with you getting comfortable with the idea of treating your loving, charming wife as a fuck toy). At least I do get my moments.  It is ironic, actually, since your non-horndog attitude was one of the things I was most grateful for the whole rest of our relationship, since I had no sex drive and was happy I didn’t have some husband clawing at me all the time. Oh how things have changed — you can claw at me any time you want! Like that night at the bar the other day, that was so hot… your hands tucked in my pants, right in the middle of the room. Zero fucks given. You claimed me right there. I was Yours, and You wanted everyone to know it. Fuck that was hot!

How I feel more submissive when Sir is feeling less Dominant

TLDR: The honeymoon is over and now we have to fit our D/s relationship into our real lives. At first I struggled with Zeus being less enthusiastic about day-to-day D/s, especially check-ins and just carrying himself in that more Dominant energy. But then I remembered how much I enjoy serving him and taking care of him as a huge part of my submission, and it became obvious. All I had to do to feel more submissive was remember that if he’s working long, hard hours, then what he needs more than anything is solid support: a comfortable home to come back to after work, delicious and filling meals (dinner with enough leftovers for lunch), and a wife who won’t be a nag.

When we first discovered D/s and started introducing it into our relationship, we had the immense benefit of me being completely footloose and fancy free. I was travelling back and forth between my home with Zeus and my parents’ homes, about 8 hours away. I was basically only visiting on his weekends (he works 10 days on, 4 days off, so I would come during the 4 days off.) During that time, his work schedule was pretty light, so he had plenty of energy on the weekends. We had lots of time to play and explore different facets of D/s, even though he was taking it slow.

Of course, such a fantasy world has to eventually return to reality. After I got things straightened out with my mother in my home town, I came to live “full-time” with my husband. I know, crazy right? But you have to understand, this was a really new thing for us. Throughout our entire relationship, we’ve lived apart 70-90% of the time. It just works for us, crazy as that sounds. But besides the D/s, we’ve been shifting into a more “shared life” marriage over the past year or so, and the D/s really sealed it in.

But we still had quite a bit of time together. He was working short days, usually home by late afternoon. He’d come home with plenty of energy since his work wasn’t especially taxing, and we’d still get to play every couple days. In between, we were talking constantly, discussing all kinds of facets of D/s, as well as life in general, our plans for the next few months and years, etc. We really connected.

And of course, eventually this too must end. Zeus loves to work long hours, and the opportunity finally arrived after months of pissing around. Typical Type-A, he loves to challenge himself to out perform year after year. He’s in a role right now that’s very goal-based and he really thrives on that. He’s in constant work mode, from the moment the alarm goes off (2.5 hours before sunrise, and it’s barely past the equinox!) until he settles into bed some time around 9pm. I snuggle in with him, even though I’m a night owl by nature. Besides the fact that I’ll be getting out of bed first to fetch his phone-alarm (we don’t keep it in the bedroom) and get the coffee started (I’m finally consistently remembering to set it up the night before) so it’s important to get my sleep too, there’s just the obvious fact that falling asleep together is sometimes the most intimacy we get during these long-hour work-days.

At first I found this frustrating. I’d lost my husband to his stupid job again! Work had taken my Dominant away from me. Grrr. But then I remembered, D/s is more than just a Dominant telling a submissive to do stuff. It’s a submissive serving her Dominant. And I don’t need his Dom energy to do that! I’ve been married to this guy for almost 8 years, and together almost 11… I know what he needs and likes! He likes his coffee, so I can have that ready every morning (he expects it now, anyways, so it’s not really an option). He likes my cooking (it is pretty good!) so I can have dinner ready, or at least planned, every night when he gets home, and make sure there are enough leftovers for him to take for lunch the next day. I can sort his “clean enough to wear again” work clothes from the ones that will walk away if you turn your back, and put the dirty ones in the laundry. Basically, I’m trying to anticipate his needs and support him as much as I can.

I don’t know how much our how long this would sustain us in the long-term, though. We’ll definitely need to explore some rituals down the road, and probably some kind of maintenance spanking sessions. I could feel myself getting antsy the other day, and I was really grateful Zeus gave in to my morning’s request for some play that evening, because I probably would have started losing my mind! It’s not that I need 24/7 control and in-my-face Dominance, but I do need to be kept in my place and reminded who’s boss from time to time. I still have a strong control freak streak in me, and it likes to come out from time to time. It has always bothered Zeus, since it means he got steamrolled. So now that he has an opportunity to shoot me down and put me in my place — and that I’ll actually like it! — I think he’ll gradually start coming into his own.