Sprinkle Tinkle

Things they should teach in advanced sex ed1: Bare, smooth pussies are nice, but they make you pee everwhere. Proceed with caution!

I’m also going to take this moment to plug “Body Sugaring” instead of “waxing” for all you other beautiful people out there getting your hair pulled out in the wrong direction, using that awful waxy product that is harder to remove than tree sap. Sugaring removes the hairs in the same direction of growth, so you have far fewer breakages, and the residue is literally sugar, so it washes off with water. I highly recommend checking it out!

And now back to our regularly scheduled blog post.

Sir likes a smooth pussy. I’m a hippie, so for most of my life, I didn’t even bother removing hair form my legs and armpits, let alone my pubes. When we first got together, Sir carefully and tactfully asked if I’d ever tried waxing, and if I’d ever consider it. I tried it a few times and liked the smoothness. I got my pussy waxed for a little while, but eventually through a combination of our relationshionship going in a more non-sexual direction (partly due to my hormonal birth control and partly due to our comfort with a more companionable relationship) and the annoyance of pee spray, plus pain and cost of upkeep, I gave it up.

When we started down the Ds path, Sir asked me again if I’d be willing to get my legs and pits waxed, because hairy extremities remind him of a man and even though he’s into anal fisting and insertions, both receiving and giving with men if the right energy and situation comes up, he’s not sexually aroused by men. Sexual orientation is complicated, isn’t it?

Some of you are probably twitching by the fact that going into Ds, he still asked me. That might seem very un-Dom-like. But that goes to show how “committed” I’d been to my body hair in the past. From a combination of counter-culture, laziness of shaving or self-sugaring, and frugality of paying someone else to do the work, it had just become a part of me. Like, literally. I had it when we met, and I had never felt especially compelled to remove it. I’d gone through phases of removing it, sometimes for professional reasons or because I’d eventually caved to societal pressure. But over the last year, I’d gotten completely over it and exposed my hairy armpits and legs with pride and comfort. For a while I let my bush really grow — it almost became an experiment to see just how unruly it would actually get — but honestly it just got tangly and messy and annoying, so I started trimming it again.

But now was different. For me, this was the ultimate act of submission. Even though I do enjoy the feeling of smooth skin as a perk, I really am doing it for him. I can justify the cost because it’s not me spending the money, it’s him spending the money through me, because he likes it.

But speaking of money, I am still frugal, so first I went to the waxing place I used when I was in school. Ever heard of “Good, Fast, Cheap: Pick two?” This place was fast and cheap — cheaper than sugaring in Thailand, actually, which is really saying something. But they do a shit job. I had so many breakages — it was awful. I only made that mistake once. Now it wasn’t just about appearances for social pressure, it was about sensation and perfection for my Sir. He’s worth the extra money.

I do have a really good sugarer in town… out of “good, fast, cheap” she’s good x2. She takes forever — over 2 hours to do my armpits, full legs, and full brazilian, and she charges accordingly for her time — but she doesn’t miss a hair, at least without strong protest. Last week, when I got it done, I actually felt bad because I hadn’t exfoliated my skin even once since getting waxed for the last time ever, and the waxing had allowed more hairs to grow under the skin. She would have spent another hour at least working on those stray hairs, if not for the fact that I’d told her I had to be at “a talk” (which was actually Missy‘s SafeworD/s chat!) by noon. Lucky for me, I miscalculated the time zone difference and the chat actually started at 1pm, because she went until 12:20! I’d noticed my calculation error earlier that morning but had decided not to tell her just in case she went over her time. Good thing, too!

But wow oh wow am I happy with the results this time! Worth the time and money. It’s so soft and smooth, almost a week later. No sign of even one hair, except the renegades that escaped her time limit and I’ve been too lazy to pluck. As for the pee spray, I seem to be learning to control myself better and keep the dribble to a minimum. At any rate, the way my sex life’s been going lately, a little bit of pee to wipe up is a very small price to pay!!

1 Hah! Yeah, right. Advanced sex ed. Like they even teach basic sex ed it most places, let alone intermediate or advanced. Oh the things I would change if I ran the world…

Like a virgin

My fellatio training continues. Sir read my post and was eager to claim his new privilege, which is of course as much my privilege if not more. Yes… I think more mine, because he’s the one that makes me stop when I’m always eager to continue!

It’s funny how quickly and easily I get in the mood when Sir claims his prize. I can be sitting there thinking about something else completely, but when he tells me to get on my knees, instantly I’m ready and eager. I’m his.

My technique is improving. Sir is patient while I experiment and learn what I’m doing down there. He gives me good feedback, always positive and encouraging. If he wants me to do something different, he says so, rather than criticising the way I’m doing it at the time.

The weirdest part for me, given my lifelong “relationship” with blowjobs, is how much I’m enjoying them, fantasizing about them, craving them.

And it’s not like I want to go suck every dick I see. But his I find myself spending far too much time thinking about — the feeling of it in my mouth, the way it gets hard in response to my lips and tongue, the fullness of my mouth being so stuffed with cock that I can’t even breathe, him pressed into the back of my throat cutting off my air supply… Gasping for quick breathes between mouthfuls of flesh… Savoring every sweet second, devouring every delicious inch.

Then he bends me over. Oh how I hate that part *evil grin*. He makes me play with myself while he fucks me from behind, calling me his good pussy. I used to be so offended by any kind of humiliation or objectification. I’m a good little feminist, had to tow that company line! But screw that, I’m his dirty little slut. And I love it!

After I’m good and fucked with at least one orgasm (he’s so considerate!), I get to clean my juices off him. That’s always such a treat, in more ways than one. There’s the obvious: another opportunity to enjoy my new hobby, along with the pleasant reminder of being used, of what a dirty girl I am.

It’s all so new and fun. In so many ways, I feel like a recently deflowered virgin who’s just discovered the wide and wonderful world of sex. I’m shy and bashful around my own husband, which is at once fun and yet so ridiculous. For the first time in our relationship, I’m the one who’s having trouble talking about my feelings, wants, and needs… Not wanting to be needy or demanding (for once!), but recognizing that I do still need to talk about these things — more than ever! Besides all the fun we’re having and the intimacy we’re sharing, I think one of the best things about this is what we’re growing and learning: him to ask for what he wants instead of getting frustrated and resentful, and me put him first for a change, and not get frustrated or resentful every time I don’t get my way.

First face fucking!

I’ve it never been big into blowjobs. Or even small into them. I’ve only had a couple boyfriends I’d do it at all with, and only if they asked really nicely, and I was never that into it. I don’t imagine they were very good blowjobs.

With Sir, we had a mostly sexless marriage for most of our relationship*. I never gave head. I established early on that it wasn’t something I actually enjoyed doing, and Sir isn’t the type to enjoy someone doing something dutifully if they don’t enjoy it themselves. So he long ago gave up the idea, and seemed generally fine with that. Or at least resigned (*edit: He says not resigned, and wants to add that we’ve had a happy, comfortable, and successful marriage to date, and neither one of us was craving more for most of it.)

But in our discussions around this whole Ds thing, I expressed that I’d probably enjoy having his cock shoved in my mouth, if he wanted. He was taken aback, since it was never something I’d been interested in before. But then, none of this is anything I’d been interested before, so he just added it to the list of “Who are you, and what did you do with my wife?” He kept it in his back pocket to bring out for just the right moment.

Author’s note: My Liege hasn’t attempted to rescue his charming, sweet wife from my secret lair. I continue to hold her captive, keeping her occupied with cat videos and bubblegum. My evil plan is coming together without a hitch.

It turns out that right moment was just the other night. I wanted to write about this yesterday, but needed some time to reflect. And savour.

It started out on a completely different page. I’ve been dealing with this annoying wart on my finger, and I decided to get aggressive with it. I did a freezing treatment earlier in the week, and then it was sufficiently beaten down that I was able to pick at it and get down to the root. I soaked it in water for a few minutes to soften up the tissue and really help the freezing treatment get in there. It worked. I kept the freezing in place for a whole minute, instead of the 20 seconds recommended on the package (I really want to kill this little fucker). It hurt SO MUCH. Then I took off the freezing, and it hurt EVEN MORE.

Sir, compassionate and caring man that he is, saw my pain and sought to relieve it. Failing that, he settled for distraction. He bit my neck. Hard. My reaction was immediate, I melted into a puddle and let out a deep sigh for good measure. He followed that up with some hard (for me, not for him) spanks, pinches, and nipple grabs. It really pushed my pain limits! My thumb was completely forgotten.

I still maintain that I’m not a masochist. The pain itself doesn’t feel good, but the whole experience feels good. I enjoy pushing my limits and making myself tolerate the intensity. I’m finally starting to learn not to top from the bottom, not to try and limit and control everything he does. I just express myself, like if it really hurts I’ll make hurty noises. I’ll provide enough feedback that he knows where I’m at, attempting to nonverbally express whether I’m enjoying it or merely tolerating it, and let him decide where he wants to take me. Isn’t that supposed to be the whole point? It’s the control I want to give up. I’m starting to really learn what that means, within play. And I find that I enjoy it much more when I don’t fuss and try to micromanage the sensations.

Eventually we got to what I knew, and hoped, was coming.

“Turn around.” I was bent over the couch. I stood up and turned around.

“Get on your knees.” Oh goodie!

“Suck my cock.” YES!

It was everything I hoped it would be, and more. I was so enthusiastic and just threw myself into it. He actually seemed surprised by my eagerness. I’d shared before that I wanted to be face fucked. Once I was getting into sucking, he decided that seemed like a good time to get more aggressive. I gagged. It was fun. I gagged a LOT! There were tears. It was intense. It was hot! I was a mess. I absolutely loved it.

It’s so weird.

Even just 6 months ago, I wouldn’t have been remotely thinking this way. I was such a prude! If he would ever have come home and told me to suck his cock, I would have laughed and asked if he’d gone crazy. Now if he walked in the door and said that, I’d be on my knees with a twinkle in my eye, faster than he could get his work boots off (Sir, I hope you’re reading this…)

“Stand up. Bend over.” Oh goodie goodie goodie. I was about to get my brains fucked out! Sir did not disappoint.

“Play with yourself.” Sir loves it when I help make myself come. But he didn’t let it get that far this time.

“Turn around and taste yourself on my dick.” Mmmm.

Then more face fucking, more gagging. I was really nervous that all the gagging would be a turn-off, but I think it’s part of the attraction. I have to remember this isn’t vanilla. It’s not supposed to be tender and sweet and loving. That making someone gag on your dick is pretty much the ultimate cock power move. I mean sure, anal is pretty degrading, but there are nerve endings in there that create a lot of mutual pleasure. There’s nothing “fun” about gagging, except how it makes you feel so powerless and submitted. Which is soooo much fun!!!,

The cock sucking was the major difference between this and some of the other scenes we’ve done before, but I think it made a huge difference. I really enjoyed it. I really enjoyed how objectifying it was. I think it also helped Sir get a lot more out of it, since it’s a pretty big “about him” kind of thing! It helped keep the focus balanced between both our pleasures.

One thing that would have been frustrating if I didn’t know Sir so well is that he never came. He’s got incredible orgasm control, and he uses it extensively. He’s at that stage in life where a good orgasm means instead sleep, and he wasn’t quite ready to go down for the night. Since I’m not experienced at giving blowjobs, that might have been a cause for concern – didn’t I do it right? Was it that bad? But I could tell that one of the times Sir was fucking me from behind, he almost did come, because he pulled out really quickly. He likes it tight and I had slightly crossed my legs to make the space smaller, and that pretty much did it – I was getting face fucked again!

One thing that’s funny, after a day of reflection, is that I’m still shy about offering blowjobs. You’d think after that, I’d just get over it. But yesterday I wanted to give him one but was too shy (with my own husband!) to bring it up. We just weren’t in “that” headspace. Specifically, he wasn’t in the headspace to demand one (and/or wasn’t feeling the need for one), and I’m not yet accustomed enough to all of this to beg him to let me give him one. Or maybe I’m embarrassed that I actually enjoyed it. Or, and this is probably most of it, I’m still apprehensive about my performance.

They say that sex is like pizza, that even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good. But that’s bullshit. I’ve had some really bad sex in my time, and it was NOT better than no sex. Not by a mile. So I don’t want to give a bad blowjob, because I’m not convinced that’s better than no blowjob. But then, I’m not a man. Maybe any blowjob is better than no blowjob. And certainly, any blowjob given with love and genuine attempt to please can’t be that bad, right?

I know what I’m doing tonight…

A name for Sir

I’m a non-conformist. It’s just how I roll. So even though my husband always goes by “Sir” when he plays with others, and I’m more than happy to call him that in person, I didn’t want to use it on my blog. Everyone calls their Sir “Sir” on their blog. I hate being like everyone! I asked him if he would be willing to come up with another title I could use in my blog. He suggested I could come up with some options for the blog, and he could choose one that he liked.

I went through quite the gamut. I’m a big GoT fan, so most of my first ideas were LordStark or Khal. But he doesn’t watch GoT and thought those were stupid ideas. He likes Disney movies, so I suggested Mufasa or Simba, but shot down again.

Then I thought, what about other languages? I found a whole website that you can put any word in, and it will give you that word in about 80 different languages! Cool beans! German: Herr. Spanish: Señor. Romanian: Domn (lol!). I looked up several variants in Thai, since we’d like to move there one day so it seemed fitting. They have a lot! It’s one of those languages that uses honorifics every time you talk to anyone, and the honorifics denote gender, relative age, educational accomplishments, and of course whether or not you’re royalty. Syr is Welsh.

Sire is just old school English. It sounds funny, but it made my list because I was brainstorming. But it wasn’t my first pick by any means (which was Khal, but as I said, he kaboshed that big time. Oh, the life of a submissive blogger can be so hard sometimes).

Fuck it. Anything that sounds cool, he thinks is stupid, and anything he likes is basically just “Sir.” Besides, am I supposed to be the submissive or not? He said he prefers Sir. He understands my nonconformity and does support me to express myself, but at the end of the day, he said he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. So fiiine. I’ll stop fussing about it and just do the easy thing. But I’m doing it under protest! Oh, who am I kidding, that’s not true at all. It’s just a word and if Sir says he prefers Sir, and my only reason for not preferring it is that it’s not original, then I just need to suck it up buttercup, and get on the submissive bandwagon!


Updated October 20, 2017: I took to the habit of calling Sir “Zeus” in the SafeworD/s Club chatroom, and he agreed that it was acceptable. It’s motivated by the whole “Leda and the swan thing” and I also like how it plays into the poly thing. Ok, so technically Zeus is the swan not her husband, but c’mon, he’s also the King of the Gods. It just makes a way better Dom nickname. I mean, who’s ever heard of Tyndareus?

Public vs Private Play Energy

Sir asked me to blog about this. It’s really more his “thing” so I’ll do my best to portray it accurately.

While we were playing the other night, Sir and I lost momentum and he needed some time to reflect. In the process, he accidentally sorta dropped me, as he told me to just “stay here” while he was going to go have a cigarette. But we’d been doing some really intense things, and I didn’t feel comfortable being left alone like that. That was what sort of triggered the “all about me” discussion we had that night, but there was this other aspect that I felt deserved its own post.

But another thing he talked about was the loss of energy he experienced during the scene. He’s played pretty extensively at kink parties throughout the years, some years more than others. Some of his scenes have been very intense (he’s a very strong man – those real, farmer kind of muscles that are actually powerful and useful, not the flashy gym muscles that appeal to the masses but are effectively useless in the real world) and some have lasted quite a while, hours at times. Not with me, because “I’m not a masochist” (I seem to be meaning that less and less every time I say it, although it still doesn’t resonate with me; sensualist would be better, I enjoy sensations which are sometimes very intense but sometimes those intense sensations are waaayy too much. I digress.) But he’s had some really intense scenes. Sooo, there’s this part of me, when he loses energy in the scenes, where I start to worry and have anxieties.

One of them is whether it’s me, because hey I’m human and who’s not going to wonder that?

I worry that I’m being an “energy vampire.” We’ve always had a very energetic, spiritual kind of connection, ever since we met. It was instantaneous and intense and deep, very fast. We pretty much moved in together on our first date. But sometimes when we’d do tantric energy play in our early relationship, he would again feel very drained. We eventually stopped doing it much, because it wasn’t meeting his needs. I wasn’t really ready to learn to control my own energy and focus, so it just wasn’t there yet. But lately, especially since I returned from India, we’d begun experimenting with it a little again, and he said it wasn’t draining him anymore. It’s been 10 years after all, and I’ve grown quite a bit (I’m 35 now, and we all know how grown-up people are in their 20’s!!). I’ve also been meditation more, and then really focusing on trying to cycle and return energy when we play. Honestly I still don’t even know what I’m doing, but if he said I wasn’t draining him, then I was taking him at his word and assuming that whatever I was attempting was somewhat working.

But then when he reports that he’s feeling drained in play sessions (specifically the more corporeal type play), of course I start to worry that “it’s back!”

He also tells me I’m overthinking things. Sometimes people just get tired. Give it a break. That was our second session in the night, maybe we need to take it a lot slower. The first session had a pretty good progression and honestly would have probably been a perfectly good place to stop, if he hadn’t gone and ended it with the word “recess” that just planted seeds in my active little imagination!!

And then the other thing he suggested, which is supposed to be the whole point of this post, is that when he playing at parties, there’s this whole different energy flow. There’s a room full of people. I mentioned he’s an intense players, and I have no problem saying that he tends to attract an audience. Just the way he can read his bottoms and know how to take them up to their edge and hold them there, and ride these waves, it’s impossible to describe and really something to see. And so in the midst of this audience, there’s basically a huge cycle of energy in the room. There’s people feeding their energy into the scene just by watching it, and him feeding it back to the bottom, whose feeding their energy to him and so on and so forth. So one of the simplest things he’s suggesting is that he just needs that for such intense scenes, especially for multiple rounds.

And that’s totally fair. As I mentioned, corporeal play never was my main draw and it’s just one of many many many things I’m curious to explore. If it’s not something he has a ton of energy for (it does, obviously, take a lot of physical energy!), I’m perfectly fine exploring other activities, things that allow us to feed each other’s energy and maybe more intimate, loving exchanges too.

Maybe, just maybe, we even need to have a punishment model and save the hard spankings for that, and keep our scenes mostly sexy with just some light spanks. And maybe some of these are things that I’m not supposed to be the one to decide….. 😉

Assignment: Two questions

Q1: Why do you want to be submissive?

Q2: What do you want from me as a Dominant?

These are the two questions my Dearest asked me to consider during my walk tonight. My walk was actually to a local diner so I could use their wifi to download some podcasts and update some computer settings, so I figured I’d might as well take advantage of that wifi to answer those questions in a blog post.

Q1: Why do you want to be submissive?

A: I honestly don’t know. I can’t even say I’ve always felt like I had a submissive side, because I’ve always been a control freak. And maybe that’s exactly why I want to explore submission: because trying to control everything all the time is impossible, and stressful, and did I mention impossible? I’ve made a lot of progress over the years learning to give up control over things outside my sphere of influence, but I still tend to micromanage the things I can.

I also get really bad decision paralysis. I’m intelligent and I can easily see hundreds of options, and hundreds of potential consequences for each one. I get completely overwhelmed trying to juggle it all. And 90% of the time, the things I fuss over aren’t even remotely important.

Other than that, there’s something that just comes out in me when I serve you, and even more when you command me. It turns me on more than anything else ever in our relationship! My heart beats faster. My groin gets tingly. My face flushes.

It just feels right. For one of the first times in my life, I’m doing something completely illogical and irrational. And it feels so good!

I also really like the idea of being protected and provided for, and submission is the contraposition to that. I’ve spent our entire relationship assuming you would always provide for me, and you always have. I’ve made paltry efforts to do my part, but I’ve never really lived up to my own expectations there. For some reason (love, I imagine), you’ve always let me get away with it. I know you gets frustrated sometimes. So I’m excited about finding something I can actually do that really serves you for a change.

Q2: What do you want from me as a Dominant?

A: Control. More than anything, I want you to take control. I know that’s vague and I don’t exactly know what I want you to control. I like it when you’re The Boss. I absolutely love it when you use that commanding tone with me. Oh sure, I also love it when you say “would you please?” but the straight up commands are just so HOT!

I want accountability. I’m terrible at holding myself accountable. I’m really good at forgiveness, as a rule, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Holding grudges really hurts everyone and serves no one. But I forgive myself far too easily. I don’t follow my own rules for myself. I just do whatever I want and let “tomorrow-leda” worry about the consequences. Which is ironic, considering how many consequences I can think up and then deliberately choose to ignore.

While I did really hate the idea of punishment, somehow it’s starting to grow on me. Oh don’t get me wrong, I don’t actually want to be punished! But maybe knowing that if I cheat on my eating plan and chow down a whole family sized bag of chips, then I’ll face a hell of a whooping… that would be pretty good motivation to put those chips back on the store shelf!!

Do I want to be “owned?”

Welp. In principle, it doesn’t fit with that whole polyamory thing very well, does it? And I’m not planning to give that up any time soon! That’s a core value for me. Not that I’m in any hurry to get any other relationships right now. Just like when we first got together, and I naturally wanted to focus on our relationship because I knew it was something special… this is like a whole new relationship all over again, and once again I find myself wanting to devote 100% of my emotional energy to you and making this blossom into something even more amazing than it already was. And boyohboy, when you called me “Mine” yesterday?!? Holy crap did that excite me! I couldn’t get it out of my head! (for the readers: I’d cut myself earlier in the day, and when Sir found out he said “Mine! Don’t hurt mine!”) I just got that warm-fuzzy feeling all over.

Is it all about me?

Sir has brought up this feeling that sometimes when we’re playing, he starts getting a feeling of it being all about me. This confuses me, because I was under the impression that he genuinely enjoys the experience of topping, for its own sake and for the reaction of the bottom. And he assures me this is true, and that this isn’t an all-the-time kind of thing, but that there are moments where he gets that feeling.

I don’t think this is unreasonable. We’re still finding our footing. The sensation of physical pain as being enjoyable is a new thing for me, and I’m really eager to explore it. It’s very intimate and sensual too, so it’s not like I’d want to go off and explore it with just anyone. I may be polyamorous, but as I’ve described elsewhere (possibly not posted yet, we’ll see about that), I’m focused on him right now. So that means that insofar as I want to explore pain, I basically require him to inflict it. And that’s a lot for him to take on, on several levels. There’s the obvious that I’m not just some random play party pickup, there’s the emotional investment. I’m also still not really a “masochist” per se. I can’t actually take a lot of pain (what I consider “pain” would be like a little kitten scratch for most masochists.) I’ve just discovered that some pain is fun, and with a good warmup, I can take increasing amounts of it and it creates certain enjoyable reactions in my body.

But honestly, that’s just a small part for me. I enjoy anything that feels good, and while the pain definitely increases the intensity of pretty much anything, there are lots of things that feel good.

And besides all that, one of the whole things I want to explore is making him feel good. But I’m not used to that, because I’m a classic sexual bottom. I never know what to do. I need to be topped from the bottom, big time. Tell me what to do and I’m happy to do it. At least I’m happy to try it. If you enjoy it, I’m sure to enjoy doing it. By “you” I’m obviously only talking to him because I’m usually not the “giver” type in the sack. Just another one of the things I blame on my only-child-syndrome. But I’m working on it, honest I am. I mean, this whole submissive thing is a pretty big example of working on not being selfish! Problem is, it just doesn’t come naturally for me. I have to be asked for things all the time.

I heard this one classification once: askers and guessers. You can google it, there are lots of articles. The gist of it is that askers will ask anyone for anything, and assume anyone can say No and are just pleased if you do say Yes. Guessers will try to only ask when they guess you’re going to say Yes, and are more disappointed if you say No. I’m an Asker, big time. Sir is a Guesser, big time. Sooo that’s a really interesting thing to work through in our Ds dynamic!! And honestly it’s probably something we both need to work on! I could probably stand to take responsibility for accomplishing more on my own, and he definitely needs to learn to ask for help more. That’s one thing he definitely recognises as a benefit of this exploration for him.

So back to sex. I would really like to explore basically being used for sex. But I’ve just never gotten the impression that it was something he was even interested in. But then of course if you assume your life partner isn’t herself interested in being used for sex, then what kind of loving partner (which he is, or I would never be considering any of this!) would ever do such a thing?

I also had this fantasy today of being used as a human dildo. You see, Sir has always been a big fisting aficionado. Top, bottom, and self. He loves fisting others, squirting too, but I’m not a huge fisting bottom (lol I honestly didn’t intend that pun), and my squirting skills leave something to be desired (although that might be something to pursue in the “forced orgasms” arena that I’m also interested in exploring). We’ve played a handful of time with me topping him, but it really needs all the pieces to align. There’s the physical preparation of course, all those good enemas to get nice and cleaned out. And then there’s the whole mental thing. I’d always struggle with the Top / Dom energy that he required for that headspace. And that’s certainly not going to get any better now!! But I wonder if it wouldn’t be possible for him to “use” me as just a human sex toy, like the closet-full of ones he has for self-exploration… but better, because it’s capable of responding to verbal commands! It moves and even has a second hand and what the hell, can also hold vibrating eggs and stuffitystuff. Oh, the possibilities are endless, but he would need to just use me like a warm toy.

And then there’s all the service. I’ve really enjoyed all the tasks I’ve been given so far. I like making the coffee in the morning, cooking supper, making pancakes on request, actually keeping the house tidy for once. I’ve become a bed maker. I’ve never been a bed maker in my life, but I mentioned it as a possibility in passing once and he picked it up and decided that would be a nice thing. Getting his beers, putting away the empties, washing his feet, putting lotion on them. I’m really enjoying all these little things, and I’d be more than happy to do whatever things like that he wants. So I’m struggling to see where the “all about me” part is coming in, other than in the “selfish altruism” sense that these also bring me joy. But I guess I just assumed that was a similar kind of joy to what he felt when we explored play activities. I suppose also, however, that everything has its limits.

My Rock

I had a shit day. I felt like I was going nonstop, but I didn’t even start any of the big items on my task list, let alone finish them.

My mom just moved out of assisted living into an independent apartment, and the transition is going poorly. She’s ill-equipped to be on her own, and I’m living 9 hours away. The new landlord has a terrible management company that doesn’t fix anything unless you threaten to go to the rentalsman. So I spent about two hours on the phone with her, over several different phone calls, helping her sort it all out. So stressful.

I had just gotten to working on my courses when Dearest came home, and I didn’t even get up to greet him. I was surprised he was home from work so early, and focused on my material and trying to complete all my tasks. When I did get up though, he told me to keep working, so I guess I actually did the right thing by not getting up in the first place. He wants me to make some real progress on those courses, since they’re the closest thing I have to a job right now. But boy, it takes a lot of time keeping the place clean! No wonder I was always so messy!!

At the end of my third (fifth?) phone call with my mom, I was just wiped out. I curled up in a ball beside him and he just stroked my head and said “good girl.”

That used to bug me, good girl. It reminded me of training a dog (I’m not into humiliation play). But I’ve come to like it, because he says it with love and genuine praise. It also helps that he stopped using his “talking to dogs” voice when he says it! 😉

It just made me feel so safe and comforted. I knew that even though my mom was relying on me for support, I could rely on him. There was something about how he consoled me that was just so much more soothing than before we introduced the D/s dynamic. I don’t know if it’s because he’s feeling more protective of me, or I’m just letting myself admit it’s okay to rely on someone, that it doesn’t make me dependent or insecure to need someone. To need him.