Masturbation

I just read something that caught my attention. 

"While a recent survey from Indiana University shows that 78% of Americans have masturbated at some point in their lives, the stigma around the behavior makes a lot of people hesitant to admit it publicly."

Really? 78%? I'm kind of surprised. 

What about the other 22%?

Like... never?

Chore Day

It's hot here today. 

No, not like that. Sorry. But the weather is hot. I think it's hot everywhere this weekend?

Yes, I could stay inside, be air conditioned. Lie on the couch and mess around on the internet. 

Or I could go outside, sit in the shade and eat frozen yoghurt. Mmmm. I'm leaning towards that. 

Though... it's almost too hot for that. 

I spent the morning doing outside chores. And then some inside chores. 

And now I'm done. 

Sleepy. 

Productive. 

Satisfied. 

A good weekend. 

Change

He and I may have come to the end of the line. I really don't know. I don't think I have ever felt quite this discouraged and betrayed.

He picked a fight. It escalated. Eventually he went away, took himself away. To punish me. It's one of the things he does.

And then he came back, determined to smash me into the ground.

Told me I'm not allowed to ask him about his time. That he's tired of giving me all his time, and having to account for any of it while he's not with me. That it's none of my business. That I nag all the time, that I hound him, and that I pressure him.

I feel like I have offered him everything of me, and that this is a total rejection. I am crushed.

I asked him to stay and talk to me. He left anyway.

I feel desperately wounded. I feel like a loser, a fool. What have I been doing all these years?

Why would I offer myself to someone who doesn't want me?

This has to change. I need to change this.

I can't change him. I need to change myself. I need to change my part of this relationship. And he has no fucking idea that he's done this to me. And really, I don't think he'd care.

Business

I'm away from home, travelling on business.

I'm tired, some because of work, some because everything is different, some stress, some just stupidly burning the candle at both ends.

I've made lots of great contacts, eaten too much. Stayed up too late, got up too early.

I will be glad to get home again, and then I promise to write more. Really.

I haven't let you down yet, have I?

Hey, maybe I can copy some of the email I sent him into the blog as a post. Maybe. Maybe tomorrow.

Change

"Pull down your shirt and take your tits out," he tells me. He's crude, direct. It's humiliating, but he says it so often that I usually don't think of the humiliation of it.

Do I want this? I do and I don't.

I want the attention. But really, if I had a choice, today I'd rather talk.

He pinches my left nipple. He pinches hard, flattening it between his thumb and forefinger. He looks in my eyes as he starts to roll it. Pain. Not spectacular, but such a trigger for me. It makes me crave sex, dominance, HIM.

And he knows it. He chuckles. He knows I've gone from acquiescing to wanting him, needing him.

I can feel my pussy swell. My breath comes faster. I want.

Want what? Anything he wants. I want to serve. I want... sex or more pain or humiliation. Really, I just want to please him, but those are the flavours of service he prefers from me, so that's what I associate the desire with.

I shift. God I want this.

He sucks my right nipple into his mouth, hard. I want more. I want it equal to the first.

At last he switches, and takes my right nipple in his fingers. He squeezes tighter, rolls harder. By the time he does, I want it so bad. I'm wet. Panting for it.

He tells me I'm a slut, a pain slut. I agree.

Such a difference from when he started this session. Initially, I wanted conversation. Now. just a few minutes later, I want sex and pain. When he started, I was submissive. But now I'm his needy little slut. Was that the point you were trying to make Master?

Therapy

Today sucked. Yesterday did too.

So I went shopping.

That didn't suck.

Everything looked great.

I bought short shorts, a tankini with hearts, and a skimpy blue and white sundress.

If you ask me about them, I'll know you read this and I might model them for you.

If you order it, of course I will.

The short shorts are pink. Omg they are cute!

Reflection

Recently he told me to reflect on my submission to him.



It wasn't long, just a minute or two, but I obediently sat (no, not in the middle of the road, but in the middle of my day, because he said so), closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind and think about it. My submission to him...

And I thought that we would be better if I could manage to just really submit sweetly all the time. That I know I don't, but it would be better for our relationship if I did, if I could.

Should that be a revelation? No. Of course he wants me to submit. Of course he wants me sweet. Of course he wants it all the time. And aren't we all about me giving him exactly what he wants when he wants it?

Ummm. Yes. of course.

So why don't I? Because sometimes I get mad, or frustrated or disappointed or a hundred other things. Sometimes I'm spectacularly unsubmissive.

Am I trying to punish him? I hadn't really thought of it that way. Maybe I am. He doesn't give me exactly what I want so I don't give him exactly what he wants? I guess that's not the way we're supposed to work.

But if I do give it all the time, then how will he know? How will he learn what I want, what's important to me?

Won't he take me for granted?

How the hell is this supposed to work anyway?

Will You

(Source: oscurozahori, via kneelformenow)

Yesterday we talked a little about pain, about beating, about you beating me, and why I want it. Honestly, I don't know why I want it. It's a little crazy, isn't it? Maybe a lot crazy?

I want you to beat my ass. I want to feel the pain. I want YOU to give it to me. 

I want to feel it. I want it to hurt. I want it delivered in a specific way, slowly, deliberately, not part of some other activity. 

I love the idea of the belt. I want it. And yes, I know all that doesn't sound very submissive or very accepting or very much like I recognize my place on the bottom. I know what I want. 

You can start with your hands, or not, whatever you want for that part. And then a belt or a hairbrush. Again and again and again. Over your knee or lying on the bed or bent over the table. Or outside. I don't think I care about location. 

Writing about it turns me on, makes me crave it. 

I want you to beat me, and then push me past where I want it. I want you to make me take it. Ideally, using your words to make me take it, to settle me gently, in between hits. To insist that I take it for you. To tell me it's what you want, that it turns you on. To tell me sternly to behave and take it. 

This isn't punishment. Not this time at least, though of course we both know you could use it that way. This is Sadism. You do this to me because it makes your cock hard, and you want it. And I take it from you because it makes your cock hard and you want it. (Oh, and also because I want it so much that it's making me crazy!) 

I want you to make me cry with it. Why? Damn, I don't know. None of it makes any sense really. I just want it. Then I want you to fuck me from behind, gloating over the heat radiating from my ass while you do. 

Afterwards, I want bruises. 

Please can we? Will you? 

The Beginning

Where should I start?

I'm a submissive and a feminist. Sometimes those things run up against each other.

Actually, I think I have reconciled most of them inside my own head, in that I no longer panic that I want all the dirty things I want. Yes, I used to.

I've always been a feminist. And I think after years of confusion I realized that as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else, whatever turns me on is fine, and the hell with what anyone else thinks. My kink is mine, and I can no more help what turns me on than anyone else can.

But... I'm still not thrilled about the rest of the world knowing that this is how my marriage works.

Honestly, if most of my friends knew my marriage was Dom/sub, they'd probably assume I was the Domme. Um, except the ones that know Z; I doubt anyone who knows him would ever think he's submissive. And he's not. He's all Dom, and I'm all sub.

I love Dominance, and I'm lucky to have found it. Sounds perfect, doesn't it? And it is. Except sometimes, when it isn't.

I want to use this blog to write about my feelings, maybe figure things out. I often think best through my fingers, and I'm hoping this will help me.

If you have any comments, please jump into the comments and tell me what you think.