Oh Sweet Lorraine

This couple was together for 75 years. At age 93, he lost her, in his grief, he wrote this for her. I pray every day that I die the day before Musicman, because I don't want to live a day without him. If that doesn't happen, this kind of love would be a very close second for me.

Baby Steps Count

I believe the first step to correcting a problem is acknowledging the problem. Ya can't fix what ya can't accept. Of course, acknowledging and accepting, do not automatically mean things are fixed. No, there is definitely more work involved.

Once the problem is identified, an answer must be sought. Once the answer is found, I must be able to articulate the help I need to take the forward steps required. I'm not finding that so easy, it's just so much easier to hide.



Yes, I admit that I have been building walls. And, he's been letting me.

Yes, I did kinda tell him that he needed to back off some. I may have even mentioned a time or two that this wasn't about him. Well, it wasn't. I needed some time and space to be with my family. I knew I only had a limited time with my brother's immediate family before having to go back to my own home and my own life, I needed to be with them for as long as I possibly could be.

I also admit that once I did get back home, I actively shut him out. I did not necessarily want his comfort those first few weeks. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to wallow for awhile in the pain and despair that I was feeling. I did not want life to go on as normal.

I guess I got what I asked for, cause he is definitely letting me build walls. D/s as we knew it, has pretty much ceased to exist. Yes, part of the problem is the fact that we have no privacy. But D/s was never just about the spanking.

We never had hard and fast rules, but there were things that I did just to make him happy. Such as shaving the lady parts, such a pain to do, but he always liked it. Or, wearing dresses sans panties. Okay, so that I liked, but I started doing it way back when for him, and he used to appreciate it.

That all seems to be gone now. I don't shave, he doesn't seem to notice. I don't wear a dress or skirt and do wear undies, he says nothing. There are no fly by swatting's occurring, no groping as I walk by. About the most we seem to be able to manage is holding hands in the evening while we watch TV. Yes, it's sweet and comforting, but I'm so past sweet and comforting now.

Let's not even talk about the lack of blowjobs. I do believe I am in jeopardy of losing my membership to the cock worshipping sub club. I can very honestly say that in the time since we've returned home, I can count on one hand the number of times I've given him one and have the majority of my fingers left. Not good. He suggested I give him one a few weeks ago. I wasn't in the mood so I ignored his suggestion. He did nothing about that either.

I know he is not going to force me to do these things. That's just not who he is. That of course means it is up to me to fix this situation. I'm trying, but it's not going as well as I would like. It's just so easy to expend all my energy at work and taking care of the home and the kids and everything else.

I'm not gonna give up, I'll keep trying to get back what I pushed away. Maybe, just maybe he will be willing to meet me half way. A girl can hope, right?

Reshaping Normal

I've experienced enough life changes to know that normal never returns. I know it takes time, that normal reshapes itself into what we have now.

It hasn't been enough time for me, just a month since my brother's passing. I struggle every day to deal with that. There is something else I continue to struggle with also. Something, that I do realize, is preventing me some what, from accepting the new normal. Something that continues to prevent me from being "his little faerie".

That something is, survivor's guilt. Not guilt that my brother passed and I'm still here, I know my brother wouldn't want that for me. No, my guilt is centered around my Sister-in-law. She is so much more to me than just the woman my brother married. She is one of my very best friends, the sister I always yearned for.

In many ways, especially in our relationships with our husbands, we are much the same. She is the only woman, in my real life, that I could talk openly and honestly with, about my relationship with Musicman, without having to censor myself. She always understood, because her relationship with my brother was much the same as ours. Musicman and my brother are much the same when it comes to their personalities and the things in life they find important. My surviving brother even commented on this similarity recently to Musicman.

The first 2 nights after my brother's passing, before Musicman arrived, the little bit of sleep I got was in a pullout bed, with my sister-in-law. We spent those hours talking about the fact that she is only in her mid 40's, younger than me, and now a widow. She talked a lot about the things my brother told her during his illness, about their lack of  a physical relationship. He regretted that he was too ill to have one with her any longer, he wanted her to find someone else. She can't fathom that, I totally understand.

Her pain from losing him is palpable. I didn't then and still don't now know what to say to comfort her. I can't even imagine what she is going through. Those nights, I just held her hand and let her talk, until exhaustion finally gave her a few hours of relief, in the form of sleep. I was there for her when she woke up in a panic because she thought he needed her. During the entire 7 months of his illness she never once left his side. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

I can't seem to get those memories out of my head. They are definitely affecting the way I interact with Musicman and I don't know how to fix it. I know, with time, it will get better, but I want it all to be better now.

I feel like a china doll, suspended in time, one second before she hits the floor and shatters. The slightest breeze is to be feared, for the potential damage it could do.

Finally...An Empty House

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful, with butterflies the size of bats in my belly. Though, the lingering soreness from the previous night's conversation made me smile.

I was afraid. Afraid to get my hopes up. Afraid that if I did, some one's plans would change and we wouldn't have the alone time I was so desperately looking forward too. Afraid that the plans wouldn't change and what I thought I wanted, what I thought I needed, wasn't actually what I wanted or needed.

It had been so long, what if it didn't work? What if it was just painful and that was it? What if, for some unknown reason, I was no longer "into" this whole D/s lifestyle? It has been so long, it seemed now to belong to someone else, in some other life time. So many what ifs, they made my head spin.

As the day went on many thoughts spun through my head. Maybe I should go buy some new lingerie, or new bed sheets. Maybe I should have gone and gotten my hair trimmed, as I've been saying I needed to do for a couple weeks now. Was it too late to wax? In a panic, I realized I was out of shaving cream, now what? I seriously felt like a teenager going on her first date, ever. So silly, I know, but that's me.

Musicman didn't seem to be suffering any nerves at all. I suppose it's different for the one on the other side of the paddle. Or, possibly, it's because he's not a silly woman like me. We settled in and watched a movie while the kids got their plans in motion. Eventually, the house was empty and we had a nice quiet dinner together. By that point, I think I was just looking for reasons to delay, due to all the doubts swirling through my head.

I can't honestly say I felt relief when he directed me to get into position on the couch in our room, but I must have, cause I was in position in a flash. The silky pajama pants I was wearing did nothing to prevent me feeling the full force of the paddle when it started to fall. He rarely does much of a warm up and I rarely ever get spanked over clothes of any kind. Within just a few swats he stopped to divest me of the pajama pants and then went right back to wielding that paddle.

It didn't take very long before IT happened. I started to cry. I've never cried during a spanking before, nor have I ever had a desire to be spanked to tears. It wasn't the pain that caused me to cry, it was just all the bottled up stress and emotions that had built up over the last couple months bubbling to the surface.

Thank goodness he understood what was going on and did not stop. Instead, in between swats, he rubbed my back and whispered soothing things to me. He checked in with me often to see if I was okay and despite the fact that I was sobbing, I wanted him to continue and he did, until I finally collapsed into a heap on the edge of the couch.

He stayed near and soothed me until the tears were all gone. I felt so much better and with my backside on fire we moved on to more sexy activities. I even found the nerve a bit later in the evening to tell him I wanted a bit more, with the leather strap please.

Yes, he obliged that request.

Funny Way To Have a Conversation

After my meltdown a few evenings ago my kids have been giving me a wide berth. See, they can be really smart kids when they try. I have no idea if Musicman had a hand in engineering things, but we finally had an empty house for a short period of time on Friday evening.

I had been laying in the bed, relaxing and enjoying the cool breeze generated by the fan when he came in and announced we were alone. As he climbed in next to me he reached for the leather paddle, happily announcing we were alone. He flipped up the bottom of my dress and pushed my legs open as he almost simultaneously pulled down the top of my dress.

I just laid there, spread and exposed, wondering what the heck was going on. My brain hadn't quite caught up with what he had said yet and I don't think it ever really did. I blame that fact on the leather paddle which was all too quickly connecting with my most intimates parts.

My eyes closed of their own volition. I find the not knowing where or when the next blow will fall just heightens the experience for me. In between the blows, and my gasps, I realize that Musicman is speaking.

I remember thinking, this is an awful funny moment to try and hold a conversation, but I soon realized it was not necessary for me to do anything but listen and feel. Which is exactly what I did.

In between the slaps of the leather on tingling flesh,  Musicman informed me we were going to have the house the house to ourselves for the weekend. He told me where our son would be and what his plans for the weekend were. He informed me where our daughter would be and what her plans for the weekend were.

By this point, my breathe was out of control and I was not as focused as should have been on what Musicman was saying. I do however remember him saying that what he was currently doing was just a taste of what I would be getting the next night. For a moment, I had my doubts that this plan would actually come together. He must have read my thoughts of doubt, because the increase of intensity and frequency of the blows was very apparent.

No longer able to think, or to doubt, or to do anything but feel and react, I did not hear the door downstairs open. I was quite happily floating away on the feelings of pain and pleasure when Musicman stuffed a pillow in my mouth. Guess that's as good a way as any to get a passion ravaged faerie to be quiet.

I awoke the next morning sore and sated and still wondering if we were really going to have the whole evening to ourselves for some extended playtime.

The Streaks of the Sun

The emotions build

like snow on the distant mountain peak.

 

A rumble of thunder

too obscure to register

a feather in the landscape.

 

A crack

a peeling back

wilderness in a landslide.

 

Massive walls of white

colliding with the fragile bones.

 

Tumbling freely down the hillside

I wonder.

 

Is there color in this life?

 

My breathe is stolen

inhaled crystals

burning in my chest.

 

Endless white

searing away the preconceptions

searing away the expectations.

 

I come to a stop

exhausted

worn and bruised.

 

I lay for a moment

strength

slowly seeping in.

 

I raise my face

the streaks of the sun

register the colors.

 

I stagger to my feet

I can go on

I will not accept defeat.

 

 

 

The Pretense of Life

I'm feeling very lost and alone. At this moment in time, I'm having major doubts about who I am and what I want from this life.

It's been almost 6 weeks since my last spanking. I realize that part of the reason for that is because I spent about half of last month out of state with my brother and his family. As hard as it has been to deal with losing my brother, I would not have stayed home for anything in this world.

Connecting on any kind of level with Musicman has been quite sparse also. It's been over a week since we came together for any kind of playtime. That has nothing to do with my brother and everything to do with my kids. My ADULT kids.

I knew when I made the choice to become a mother that I was essentially consenting to give up my own wants and needs for my kids. I had no problem with that because I knew, eventually, if I did my job right they would grow up to be productive, independent human beings.

My kids have not quite been able to achieve that yet, and yes, they are very quick to place all the blame for that on me. I've really been trying hard to breathe deeply and release the negative. I've been trying very hard to embrace the positive and remember that this too shall pass.

Unfortunately, that isn't quite working as well as I would like. I carry my stress in my jaws. I clench my teeth 24/7 when the stress gets very bad. My lower molars are now deeply embedded in my upper molars and the resultant headaches caused from that are excruciating. I've woken every day this week with sharp, piercing pain shooting through my head, radiating out from my jaws.

I very much feel as if I'm a train wreck just waiting to occur. It seems, as hard as I try to stop that from happening, the train just continues to barrel out of control down the tracks. I'm truly not a control freak. I don't feel the need to be in control of everything at every moment, but I'll be damned if I'm going to give up control of my life to my kids. Have I mentioned that they are adults?

They like to remind me all the time of that fact. They also insist that they are quite capable of making their own decisions and deserve to live their lives the way they want. I agree with this, to a point. They live in my home, on my dime and think they know everything. They aren't open to hearing my opinions or suggestions and they certainly don't stop to consider how the decisions and choices they are making effect me.

I've come to realize that, to them, I am not a human being with my own needs or wants. To them, I am just a part of the woodwork. I get up and go to work to earn the money that supports and provides for them. I come home to cook, clean and do laundry, but I better not open my mouth and express any kind of frustration or stress because they don't want to hear it.

Unfortunately, I'm not feeling at all supported by Musicman either. He always was a much better parent then me. His focus right now is on the kids and as long I meet all his needs, in addition to everyone else's, he's good to go.

So, that's about how life has been going for me lately, I'm just a part of the wood work. No one stops to think about what I might want or need, and I am totally stumped as to how to change that. Yes, I have thought about running away, cause after awhile, when things start to fall apart, they might notice that I'm no longer here. Of course, I've made no firm decisions, but, ya never know, I just might do that. Cause what I currently have, is not what I want and who I am pretending to be, is just that, a pretense.