Let's Dance

During our many conversations over the last week my husband kept saying he didn't want anything in our everyday life to change. He feels if he were to micromanage me I would kick his ass(his words). Once I stopped laughing I agreed he was right. Such a smart guy he is. But really, we have been together a long time and we worked all the details so to speak out a long time ago. When we were first together we fought not alot, but when we did fight they were bad. During one particularly bad fight I threw a coffee table at him. I'm really not the type to throw or break things when I get mad, in fact that's the only time somthing like that ever happened. Thank the good lord I didn't actually hit him with it. And let me just say here, he has never raised a hand to me in anger and he never would, hurting a woman is not in his DNA. He has punched a few walls, broke his hand once doing it. Well after that incident I went to the bookstore and looked at the relationship and self help books. I had scared the every lovin' crap out of myself and didn't want it to happen again. I found a couple that resonated with me, so I bought them and took them home. As I read them I discussed them with hubby, the things in the books made sense to him too. We used a lot of strategies in those two books to learn how to effectively communicate with each other. We learned alot about ourselves and each other. Some of the things were difficult to do, but we kept at it and things got better between us and the strategies soon became like second nature for us. So no need to reinvent the wheel here. He was relieved to hear I agreed with him in that respect.

So I went back and looked at the books recently.  Books are the one thing I never get rid of, too Fahrenheit 451ish for me. I wanted to see if these books in any way alluded to Dominance and submission or anything like that. They didn't, just communication skills. So I guess I really am a naturally submissive woman, cause I really don't struggle with it at all. Of course I'm only that way with him, in most any other relationship I'm the Dominant.  Oddly enough I don't struggle or need an adjustment time when switching between the two either. Okay, I was prepared to accept that I might really be naturally submissive and had just suppressed it due to the circumstances I grew up with. But something has been niggling away at the back of mind about it. Seems my subconscious wasn't quite as prepared to accept that label as I was.

Then I remembered one of the worst fights we had ever had, you would think me throwing a coffee table would be it, but sadly no. The one thing that always caused the worst fights between us was my dancing. I've said before I love to dance and I still dance alot, almost every day.  Now the easiest way to explain why my dancing caused such problems is tell you something my husband's best friend said about it. He told my husband I could make millions on the pole. Yeah, he meant a stripper pole. Now I have never removed my clothes while dancing, except for my husband, I do that all the time. I have also never made any money dancing, too prostitutey for me. I know that's not a word, but I don't think the grammar police care too much. 

Anyway, hubby likes the way I dance, he just doesn't care for the way strangers react to it. Mainly they come on to me. I always turn them down, but it has caused him to get in a few, or maybe more, fights with other guys.  So one night I was dancing, hubby was playing pool, our usual night out at the time. A guy approached me and started coming on to me,  my hubby has unerring radar for this kind of thing and is instantly at my side when it happens. The guy asked me if I thought he could beat my husband. I told him no I didn't and that it didn't matter anyway since I had come with him I was leaving with him. The guy backed off, I thought I had handled it well.  My husband was more pissed then I could fathom. I had no idea why he was mad at me.  We left for home shortly after that.

Once we got home the fighting commenced, I really just didn't get it.  I mean I had taken care of my self and protected myself all my life and I didn't need him to do it for me. That as it turns out was the problem. He told me he knew I didn't need him to protect me, but he wanted to be the one to protect me. Light bulb moment for me, I guess I was just so used to doing it myself I never even entertained the idea of letting someone else do it.  I made a conscious decision at that moment, I would let him protect me and I would do what I could to make it easier for him.  I do still dance in public on occasion, but only after I have checked with him to see if he is comfortable with it. Sometimes he isn't, I don't do it then, cause his happiness is way more important to me then dancing. That is what really started me down this road. I found someone who could give me the one thing I had never had and didn't know I even wanted, protection.

On Black Friday, I went to my favorite consignment shop and hit the jackpot. We have his holiday party coming up, I found the sparkliest silver heels and the cutest little black dress. The dress looks like the one worn by Marilyn Monroe, the one that blows up around her while she is standing on the grate, except it's black. Both the shoes and dress fit like they were tailor made for me, and bonus the whole outfit only cost $30. I love a good deal. When I modeled them for my husband later that night he said I was going to be the sexiest wife on the dance floor and I was all his. Such a smart man.

I also asked for dance lessons for christmas. He said yes, they start in February. Now don't go trying to picture me in a pink tutu or anything like that. I'm going to learn to belly dance.  Hip wraps and belly chains here I come. HaHaHaHa.

Sorting the Crazy Thoughts

I've had an interesting week, lots of things to think about but haven't really felt much like writing. Now I need to write to sort further. So I'm just going to dive in and see where it goes. 

Thanksgiving day I had a visit from a ghost. I know, I know a little weird, but it's been happening all my life and seems normal to me. I also have prophetic dreams. It occurred mid afternoon and my son observed it also. I didn't find out until around 3:00 a.m. when I was talking with my husband and mentioned it that he had also had an occurrence earlier that evening. My husband was a died in the wool skeptic about that kind of stuff until he met me. He has seen it so often that he no longer finds it odd. I have a brother who is 9 years younger than I am who this also happens to. My son is starting to have occurrences also, it did not surprise any of us in the slightest.

Holidays have been a time of great stress for us. My husband's organ transplant happened two weeks prior to christmas. The hospital was 100 miles from home, our children where young and not able to be with us. I am very thankful that everything has worked out as well as can be expected, but at the time it was a nightmare. This time of year is also when we have lost several family members. My husband's uncle passed during the holidays of the same health issue my husband is dealing with now, he was 2 years older then my husband is. We also lost my father-in-law during the holidays of the same health issue, he was 4 years older then my husband is. Add to that the fact that I had spoken with my husband's doctor on Wednesday before Thanksgiving and I was sinking into melancholia pretty fast. I believe they came to remind me that I am not alone. The next set of tests is in about 10 days. My husband is frustrated because he fatigues very easily, I'm flat out terrified. Now would not seem to be the best time to be talking about the changes I want, but it was actually the first email I sent that motivated him to get checked. So since we have successfully dealt with serious health issues before we will now deal with this too.

After Saturday night when my husband was able to finally help me get some stuff out it was like opening a flood gate. Things would be much easier if he would just let me email him, but he has his reasons for not wanting to communicate that way and I understand and respect those reasons. He has always been like this and is prepared for the consequences, the flood.

He told me he was a little surprised by the email, because I am such a strong woman he didn't think I would ever be interested in D/s. Have I mentioned how tired I am of hearing how strong I am?  If not, I am. Anyway, I of course have my own theories about why this has become an interest of mine. I say interest because even though I have discussed with him that it seems to have become more of a need then a want, that is still something I am wrapping my head around. He has no problems with it and has his own theories on the whys of it. His theory and mine are very different but the truth is somewhere in the mix of both. Not a big surprise to either of us as he often sees the side of things that I don't.

Sunday afternoon we had spent sometime together napping, of course we didn't sleep. I was just drifting off, lying in that wonderful post orgasmic fog when our son knocked on our door to tell us he was going out for awhile. I don't believe he was out the door a second and my husband yanked back the blanket and proceeded to show me that he has absolutely no problems with the fact that I like to be spanked. The only problem he has in fact is the lack of privacy because our son is home most of the time.  Mmm, I love my husbands hands and the wonderful things he does with them, including spanking.  Anyone want a 16 year old boy, just for awhile?

My husband has taken to asking me most nights if I have any crazy thoughts running through my head I want to share. He uses those words specifically because they are my words, that is how I describe it. Sometimes they do feel like crazy thoughts. I mean really, when you tell your husband of so many years, hey, guess what, I think I like pain, how would you feel about spanking me. Seems crazy to me, fortunately for me it doesn't to him.

I was really surprised when he brought up the subject of implements, yeah, him not me. That of course led to me explaining the word pervertables to him. See, that is why he doesn't want me writing to him, he always gets me to say more then I ever plan on.  I didn't see the harm in mentioning pervertables, after all I don't own a hairbrush.  I do cook alot but I don't own a wooden spoon. My dog likes to steal them off the stove and chew them up so I don't use them. I found out how sneaky my husband really is when I was unpacking groceries yesterday and found a hairbrush. I don't even know when he picked it up or how he got it past me at the checkout.  Methinks I have created a monster, I'm just not sure if it's me or my husband.

Happy Thanksgiving

I've decided I no longer like being a deep thinker. My thoughts have been swirling again, this time though I'm not stuck in them. They look like the water spouts out over the lake during a storm. They dance close to the shore but everytime I try to grab the tail to start unravelling them, they dance away. Mean water spouts, come back here. Sooner or later they will come close enough for me to grab.  I must not be ready yet though so they just keep swirling away. So since I can't even find a place to start I thought it would be good to think about something else.  I've been thinking about all the things in my life I'm grateful for, here are just a few:

My husband, who loves me flaws and all.
My beautiful daughter who lives life on her terms.
My son who made some very bad decisions and is now dealing with the consequences of those decisions. I'm very proud of the way he is handling it all.
The doctor who is finally listening to our concerns about my husbands health issues.
The time I had with the loved ones who are gone now, though I believe they are still with me.
The family that in their time of grief  made the selfless decision to donate the organ that saved my husbands life.
My home, the only safe one I've ever had.
My senile old dog who no longer remembers to go outside to do his business, he has been a constant companion for many years.
My best friend Miss K, the only person other then my husband who really knows me and loves me anyway.
My husbands job, he is very happy and satisfied there.
My brothers and their wives, my closest friends.
The men who have been my husbands friends his whole life, they have become like brothers to me.
The people I've met here in blogland, you are becoming friends to me, you have given me the ability to accept the things about myself I doubted. It is a prescious gift and will be treasured as one.

That is just a few of the things I'm grateful for. I'm a very lucky woman.  Now I'm off to start cooking, I have pies and bread pudding to make. Tomorrow will be a quiet day of watching football and eating turkey. Happy thanskgiving everyone, be well my friends.

Riding on a Rainbow

Saturday night I planned on having a talk with my hubby, just to make sure we were on the same page. I wasn't anxious or worried or anything like that, I actually felt very prepared and confident about it. I knew what I wanted to say, I got as far as "Can we talk".  Then the strangest thing happened, usually if I find myself trying to talk about anything even the slightest bit embarrassing or uncomfortable I get bombarded with thoughts and often can't find a place to start. This did not happen, instead my mind went off the air.  Now what I mean by that is, have you ever seen a TV screen tuned to a channel that is off the air? That's what happened, I could see it clear as day the "bug races" of a channel that's off the air. That's all though, not a coherent thought in my head. Why doesn't that happen when I'm trying to sleep?

So there I sat, with a blank look on my face trying to figure out what was going on.  I'm not real sure how long I sat there before the frustration took over. I cry when I get frustrated, it's the only time I cry. That was not how it was supposed to go, it was just supposed to be a simple conversation. The harder I tried to figure it out the worse it got, the worse it got the more I cried.

My hubby isn't much of a talker, more of a doer, boy did he do. The images of what happened next are playing through my mind like an old fashioned slide show. I'm on my back on the lounge, click, my clothes are being pulled off my body, click, I'm being dragged to the edge of the lounge, click, my husband is looming over me. My body is responding to his ministrations, the emotions are bombarding me. It's like being repeatedly hit in the chest with a paint ball gun. The emotions are exploding, covering me in different colors. I'm hurtling down the rainbow into the pot of gold. Except it's not gold, it's the dark place. Oh no, not again, I haven't had the flashbacks in over two decades. As soon as it registered it was gone, just gone. I was in flight again, flung onto the surface of the sun, where I burned up. Oh, now I'm floating among the stars, I love the stars, so shiny, so twinkly. I think I'll just float here awhile and enjoy the stars.

When I came around I realized I was clutching on to my husband like a drowning person clutches a life preserver.  I remember collapsing back onto the lounge and just lying there. I couldn't feel my body, I was numb all over. I do love that feeling. He laid down next to me and put his hands on either side of my face, looked me straight in the eye and said "You wanted to talk". 

I did eventually recover enough to be able to have a somewhat intelligent conversation. At least I think it was intelligent. There was a slight misunderstanding that we cleared up pretty easily. I feel like we are on the same page now. Then my husband said something that just cracked me up. I'm not entirely sure, but I think my safe word might be "pickles". For some reason I find that very funny, of course he meant it to be funny. Guys and their ill timed humor. I felt much better after I was able to stop laughing. Might have to revisit that safe word thing though, not sure pickles is gonna work. Is hysterical laughter a valid safe word?

My husband's conclusion is this, "you're just a deep thinker, that's all". My assessment is, it's exhausting being a female, but I'll gladly be exhausted to feel like that.

Help! I've been VBA'ed

I owe a big thank you to Kitty and Mikki for this lovely honor. Yes I did initially get stressed, panicked even. Not because I didn't want to tell 7 things about myself, but because I still don't feel real comfortable commenting on many blogs. I read alot more then I comment on. I don't know if I even have 15 I feel comfortable commenting on.  Mikki said she just wanted to shine the spotlight on my blog. A truly nice thing to do, she had no idea I'm the kind of person who totally freezes when the spotlight is on me.  But I gave myself a little mental smack, and then remembered that one of the reasons I'm here is to step outside my comfort zone. So here I go spreading my wings, just a little, not quite ready to fly yet, but I'll get there.  Another reason I am not too comfortable with this is I much prefer to spend my time reading and writing when I should be trying to learn this program. I am still having trouble with basic things and just haven't spent much time trying to figure it out. I get frustrated with it easily and give up.  I'm not sure I can even successfully do that many links. So I have thanked the lovely ladies, now on to 7 things about myself.

I have 8 tattoos, 6 of which were custom drawn for me by my daughter, I  have the original drawings framed in my home.

I know how to weld and would like to someday have my own oxyacetylene tanks and a plasma cutter.

I started going grey at age 15.

I love to sing but am tone deaf so no one likes to listen. I sing anyway.

I don't own a hairbrush or blow dryer or any of that girlie stuff. My hair is long and naturally curly, a pick and leave in conditioner and I'm ready to go.

I have lived on the shores of large bodies of water my whole life( 3 great lakes and 1 ocean), I own a home with a pool but I can't swim and have almost drown 3 times in my life. I do love to skinny dip.

I have a genius IQ.

So there you go, a few things about me. Since it was the part about the other blogs that stressed me out and I believe all the blogs I do comment on have already been chosen I'm gonna chicken out of that part. BOK BOK BOK.  If you read here and I do comment on your blogs and you haven't been nominated, consider yourself nominated. Feel free to say I did it, not a problem. Now I'm gonna go get purty for when hubby gets home. Saturday nights are always playtime and I plan on trying to talk to him some tonight. I'll be leaving the magical socks in the drawer so as not to cause any distractions. Have a lovely weekend everyone and wish me luck.

Darn Socks

Yep, I'm blaming it on the socks. Let me give you a little set up, then I'm sure you'll agree, its the socks.

So, a few months ago I sent my husband an email asking him if he had ever thought about exploring a D/s relationship. I expressed my interest in it and spanking. Like most women I found it incredibly difficult to talk about face to face so I sent the email. He doesn't check his email regularly, it took him over 2 weeks to find it. I was half asleep when he found it. I have been experiencing a particularly vicious bout of insomnia and nightmares and had tried to nap. My husband is not much of a talker, more of a doer. His response as I remember was positive. The nightmares stopped after that but the insomnia stayed with me until I started writing.

While some subtle progress has been made, it has definitely been slow going. A few weeks after the first email I sent him a second one.  After waiting so long to find the first one he had told me to let him know when I sent him one, I did, but found even that hard at the time. After reading it we talked, he told me he would prefer I not email him, he is afterall right here, I can talk to him anytime.  I expected that, he has always listened to me, even when I think I'm crazy he doesn't. Well sometimes he does, but he assures me he doesn't mind and I believe him. He lets me whisper in his ear when I struggle too much to get things out. I have become the queen of whispers lately, so low I can't even hear myself. He hears me though.

During this time I was barely getting 2 hours of sleep a night, he knew this and hasn't pushed. He knows I have been sorting and dealing with stuff, bonus for him, he gets a very clean house and lots of baked stuff. As I've spent this time walking through my mind and trying to figure things out I have had times that I call the dark clouds. They roll in like a sudden summer thunderstorm, they swamp me in confusion and drown me in doubt. I can be stuck for days, exhausted, crying, unable to express anything other then unnameable pain. He has been quietly supportive, willing to give or do anything to help me feel better. The night I posted my first post here, I slept all night, the insomnia is gone. Things have been going well, no storms on the horizon.

During the time I wrote the last few posts I did have a few difficult days. I need to talk to him, he said something the other night, he thinks its something he did that caused the latest storms. But he was very stressed that night, he was having some medical tests done the next day. He has a complicated medical history and that would not have been a good time to talk.  Instead, I asked him what could I do to relieve his stress. I told him I would do anything he wanted to make him feel better. He told me what would make him feel better. I happily did it, have I mentioned his cum is my favorite face cream?  Mmmm, yum yum.

This is where the socks come in, I know I'm a little longwinded some times, so spank me. Heeheehee.  He had the medical tests done yesterday at a local outpatient clinic it was scheduled to take most of the afternoon. I chose to wear a knee length denim skirt with a grey turtleneck sweater and a scarf for a pop of color. I wear a lot of skirts, in fact, I own more skirts then pants. Its cold were I live, its snowing right now. I hate wearing anything on my feet, but I found some divine socks when I was shopping on my Birthday.  I wore the grey pair with my black boots, they come up over my knees and looked like tights with the skirt.

My husband has a habit of checking to see if I'm wearing underwear and if I am, which ones. He particularly liked the combination of the grey socks with the pink string bikinis, or least that what he told me last night while he was busily undressing me. Yeah I thought I was gonna tell him I wanted to talk, he had other ideas. Apparently he could see the tops of the socks through the slit in the back of the skirt when I walked, for some reason he found it distracting. It took him about 30 seconds to strip me down to just the socks, I forgot all about talking.  He soon had me on my back on the lounge, grabbing my thighs and pulling me closer to the edge, positioning himself between my legs.  My husband wears a full beard, the feel of it on freshly shaved lady parts is simply heaven. My juices were dripping off his beard onto my chest when he flipped me over onto my stomach. I love this position, the way he sinks in so deep, my head down, buried in pillows to absorb my screams. I do get loud, my legs spread so wide while my back arches into just the right position for his balls to hit my clit everytime he rams into me. I get purchase on the top of the lounge to plunge back to meet his strokes. Harder, harder, harder, aah, I cum one last time as shoots all over my ass and back.

Yeah, I blame the socks, we never got around to having that talk.  I woke up this morning with just the socks still on and clothes strewn all over the bedroom.

The End

The young man that wouldn't take no for an answer was not my husband. He was a lovely man, boy really. He came into my life at a good time for me. We were both 16 when we met, seniors in high school. He was the oldest of two boys in a close loving family. His parents welcomed me as a daughter. When I wasn't at school or work I was with him, even sleeping over at his house after awhile. My parents were so clueless, they thought that because I went to church with his family regularly on Sundays that meant I wasn't having sex with him on Saturday nights when I stayed at his house. His parents were very open about sex, they had a very healthy and kinky sex life themselves. His parents respected our privacy in a very healthy way. His mother actually walked in on us once, she very calmly apologized, turned around walked out and closed the door. He was the first person I ever told my secret to. I don't know if he ever told his parents, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had. After we graduated he left town to go to college. I went with him. I was finally free.

We spent a total of 4 years together and parted ways amicably when I was 20 years old. I moved back to the city I had grown up in after the breakup. I lived with my ex's parents until I found my own place. I vowed that once I got out of my parents home I would never go back, I never have. Once I was single I worked 2 jobs and partied all night. It was a very carefree time for me, also very irresponsible. I'm convinced I had an entire squadron of guardian angels on my shoulder during that time.  I had made plans with a friend, we were leaving town together, moving to a bigger city with more opportunities. We had a date set and a place to stay setup, a solid plan of action.  Six weeks before I was scheduled to leave I met my husband. I never left town. Don't worry, my friend continued easily with the plan and has been very happy.

My second shift job was a small shift of mostly women older then I was. I had worked there my senior year of high school, they gladly took me back when I moved home. T was going through a divorce, B just liked to cheat on her husband and L, like me was single. We went out together alot.  T and I had gone out one night to our favorite dance spot. It was a small neighborhood bar with a huge bouncer and huge guys behind the bar. All the women knew that they were safe in the bar and the parking lot there. And boy was it a fun place to play, the bar owner encouraged dancing on the bars and the table tops, though there was a strict rule about clothes staying on until you got to a car or off the premises. Now, I LOVE LOVE LOVE to dance and spent my fare share of time on the tabletops and the bar, as well as the dance floor.  It was definitely a fun and relatively safe way to express myself, and of course gave me a great pick of the guys.  This is where I met my husband.

I never saw him coming, both literally and figuratively.  He walked up behind me and asked me to dance. I told him no. He didn't take no for an answer. I had been single a little less then a year, I was having fun and did not want another relathionship at the time. I was planning on leaving town in 6 weeks. I wasn't getting involved.  We married 8 months later. I was just 21 years old.

I held him off for one week and then he got what he wanted, me. Two significant things happened in the early years. The first just three months into our relationship. I knew I would tell him my secret, I couldn't even consider being in a relationship with someone and them not knowing. That didn't mean it would be easy though. I had just met my husbands family a couple weeks prior. His whole, very large family. He took me to christmas at his grandmothers, his family was my gift. They are wonderful, close and loving and almost all males. Yep, I walked into a roomful of 3 generations of alpha males, scary. I love them all, they are great men in very honest, simple ways. Like balm for a broken spirit. My husband knew I was not close with my family, I had not seen them for the holidays. Just a few weeks later my mother showed up on my doorstep early one Sunday morning. We were still half asleep when we answered the door, she stood on my doorstep and screamed at me. She thought even after all these years she could tell me what to do, I stayed calm, told her to get off my property or I would call the police. I closed the door and turned around to see a look on my husbands face I never wanted to see.

Because of who his family was he didn't understand what could be so bad to make me treat my mother that way. I had to tell him my secret then wether I was ready or not. I told what I needed to tell. He asked all the questions he needed to ask and I answered them all honestly. A look of pure rage was on his face, his hands were curled into tight fists. I was devastated. He punched a couple things, not me, but I didn't know what to do, I sat there quietly crying. Once the initial rage passed and he realized he was scaring me, he made it clear it was not me he was upset with. No, its wasn't me, he wanted to kill my father.  It actually took me quite awhile to talk him out of it. It was only when I was able to get him to understand that I would lose him if he did it that he stopped. He really was going to kill him.

I stopped seeing my family altogether after that. Shortly after we married the next significant thing happened. We fought passionately, we loved more passionately. There was a connection I had with him from the beginning that I had never had with anyone. Not even with highschool boy. No matter how bad the fight or what we went through, sex was always our connection. Along with that connection came something I had never experienced or expected. I started having flashbacks.

We would be in the middle of being intimate and BAM, a memory and I would freak out. I would become instantly hysterical and fight with everything I had to get away or get him off me.  If I could get away from him I would run to the farthest corner from him and curl into a ball sobbing and babbling incoherently. He learned quickly not to let me get away from him. It was an intense time that I am not ready to talk about. I don't know if I ever will other then to say, he always helped me. I don't know how he knew what to do, but he always did. We were never able to pinpoint any definite triggers or any kind of pattern. But, I see now that we both suppressed some things. The flashbacks did fade and I haven't had one in over 20 years. 

I never became close with my parents again, until 11 years ago. I was working at the local trauma center, my father had a stroke and was brought by ambulance to where I worked. By this time I had worked in healthcare quite awhile, my family deferred to me to make all the decisions. I made the decision to put him on life support when he lapsed into a coma. My youngest brother was in the Navy, we had to go through the red cross to get him home, I did my best to keep my father alive until my brother got there. My mother didn't want him left alone so she and my brothers were there during the day. I was there every night. 3 days after his stroke we were out of treatment options, I made the decision to take him off life support. I also made the decision to donate his organs. I was with him when he died. I made all the funeral arrangements. I became my mother's primary caretaker, she is disabled.

Since my father's death my mother has told me that he never believed he did anything wrong. She believes he did something wrong, but she doesn't think it adversely affected me.
My mother is a bitter old woman now, I took care of her until a year and a half ago when I got caught in the middle of a fight between her and my youngest brother. She put me in a position of having to pick between the two of them, I did not pick her. That is the end of the story. Now I feel like I can start a new story.

Let's Celebrate

I wrote this post several weeks ago. I felt like writing it but not posting it. I find myself drowning in negativity and I'm going down for the last time. So I decided I would post this to try and clear the negative energy and welcome in the positive. At this point I don't know what comes next.

What do you want for your birthday?
That's the question my husband asked me a few weeks ago.
 I thought about it for a few minutes. I told him I really just wanted to spend the day with him. He works 6 days a week and we have a teenager at home.  I'm so jealous of empty nesters(PK). Yeah, that's what I wanted, uninterrupted time with him alone. No obligations or expectations from ayone but ourselves. He told me he would have to check and see if he had any vacation time left, alot had been used up over the last 6 months dealing with issues with our son.

So, did he have the time to take?

Yes, he did and this was my gift.

He left me asleep in our bed while he got up and played taxi for our kids, something that usually occupies the first 2 hours of my day.

I woke up to his hands leisurely strolling about my body, my favorite way to wake up.

He had coffee ready for me. I don't function without it.

We showered and dressed and then went shopping. There was somewhere particular I wanted to go and several things I wanted to look at. I like to take my time and browse, consider this, reject that. That's exactly what I did while he patiently followed me around and held things for me. When I got tired of doing that, he paid for all my finds and we went to lunch.  I had ice cream. I love ice cream, with lots of hot fudge and whipped cream. Thats exactly what I had. It was yummy. I was a good girl, I shared.

When we got home he asked me if I was ready for my birthday spanking?

Ready, was I ready? Please, the butterflies had been growing in my stomach all day in anticipation. That's the real reason I shared my ice cream, too excited to eat.

He took my hand and led the way to our bedroom. Flap, flap, flap. I swear that's all I could hear.

We have a double chaise lounge in our room. I'm tall 5" 10", this lounge is the perfect height for many many fun things. He took his time undressing me, I knelt on the floor in front of the chaise and bent forward.  I had a pillow clutched under my chest, the anticipation was about to do me in.  

Whack.....  aah, the feel of his hand, I love his hands.
Whack.....  aah, there it is, that connection. Its a connection to him most certainly, but for me, its a very primal thing. Instant energy streaking through me to that point so deep inside. Dissapearing into a pinpoint. Followed instantly by the explosion of pure pleasure. He kept going, I didn't even try to count. I was flying in that wonderful place where the stars dance among the fireworks. Explosions of color intensifing in my mind as I felt his tongue and the nips of his teeth. I didn't think my back could arch that high anymore. My knees were no where near the floor. I didn't hear his zipper or have any awareness of him shedding his clothes. He moved me around the lounge like I was a rag doll.  Oh that wonderful dizzyness and disorientation of the sudden position changes.  His hands, his mouth everywhere at once, I'm caught in a maelstrom of sensation. Up, up, up and over the edge I go. He'd slow and let me come back and then start again. This must be what heaven feels like. Thank you god for multiple orgasms.


We napped for awhile, had some snacks then moved to our waterbed where I proceeded to thank him most kindly for my gift.

Birthday wishes do come true. Even if you don't blow out a candle.

The Aftermath

About the time that I started the dreadful therapy my mother came to me and told me, "it would never happen again", meaning my father would never touch me again. She also said that if I ever told anyone my father would be put in jail and I would end up in juvie. Nice way to place the blame for what happened squarely on me. My father never said a word to me about any of it.  From that day on I had one goal, to survive and get out of that house. 

My father did try to touch me again, once. About a year later I was standing looking out the front door of our home. He came up behind me and put his hand between my legs. I didn't even take the time to think, I just reacted. I came around swinging, he moved and I didn't connect. I don't remember what I said, I just remember the rage, my whole focus had narrowed in an instant to just the two of us. In that moment I would have killed him without a qualm. Whatever I said was effective because he never tried again after that.

A few months later I started high school, on the surface I looked like the typical high school kid. School had always been rather easy so good grades weren't a problem. I participated in many school activities and I started working just a few weeks into my freshman year. I spent most weekends sleeping at girlfriends houses and didn't have a steady boyfriend until my senior year.

No one bothered to look past the surface, no one ever saw the double life I was leading. I worked because I knew I would need money to achieve the goal I had set for myself to get out. I participated in activities because those along with working kept me away from home. The real reason I slept at friends houses was because it was a good cover story to tell my parents.

You see I had been left with an awareness. An awareness of the power of my body. It was clear to me that men wanted my body. That made me feel powerful and confident. I could use my body to get whatever I wanted or to do whatever I wanted. I realized I could use my body to control men. And I did. By the age of 14 I was regularly hanging out in bars, playing with the men I met. I would tease them, tell them I had a specialty, would they like to know what it was?  Sometimes I would tell them and then walk away. Sometimes I didn't walk away, sometimes we went somewhere and I showed them my specialty. This fed into the feelings of power I felt, I was the one in control and it felt good.
I never played with the boys at school this way, there was more then one whom I dated casually and tried to get me to give it up. I never did, until my senior year when I met a guy who just wouldn't take no for answer.

Welcome Lurkers

Hello everyone, today is Love our Lurkers day.  I'm very new to blogging having started just 2 weeks ago. A little less then a year ago I was one of you, a lurker. I was interested in exploring spanking and D/s with the intent of incorporating it into my marriage of 25 years. It was an interest that I had suppressed for a long time.  So I went exploring and found a wonderful community. I felt like I had found a place of like minded people. I learned lots and confused myself more than I ever thought I could. I have to tell you I lurked almost till the day I made my first post. I was very nervous about commenting. I would read a post and have tons of things I wanted to say and questions to ask, then I would click on the comment box and my mind would go blank. Nothing, all the thoughts in my head, gone.  The few times I was able to make some kind of half way intelligent comment I worried I would sound stupid or arrogant, I worried I would be judged. I'm very happy to say if anyone found me stupid or arrogant they have never said so. If they judged me, they didn't show it.

Since I have started my own writing I feel more comfortable about commenting. It may be naive of me, but I don't worry about being judged anymore, mainly because I don't judge others. Also because I am making some lovely friends. People just like me, yet different. I find the differences interesting.

I am working through my issues and getting wonderful support from the friends I am making. It is like therapy for me, only much cheaper. The different opinions and points of view often stimulate me to see things I may not have seen, to consider things in a way I may have never considered.

I'm still working on learning the blogger program, any tech savvy people out there?  I could use all the help I can get, so any tips, hints, advice, simple instructions, feel free to share. I'd be grateful for the help.  I'm probably one of the least tech savvy people left, but I'm trying.  Feel free to browse through the blogroll, I'm still adding some of the blogs I follow, some I've added don't seem to be showing up and I'm not sure why. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

If you have any comments or questions on anything I post, don't be shy, speak up. I like the mental stimulation and you won't be judged here, even if  your opinion is diametrically opposite of mine. It's ok, you never know, what you have to say might be something I need to hear. If you're like me and get stage fright when you click on the comment box the only suggestion I have is say Hi, that always works.  If you would be comfortable commenting by email, go ahead, click on the little envelope and send an email. That's what I eventually did, reached out by email to another blogger, PK at http://elisnewbeginnings.blogspot.com/ She has been encouraging and supportive every step of the way. I am very fortunate to be able to call her a friend.   I can always use another friend, so go ahead, leave a comment, ask a question or just say Hi.

My Secret

The following post deals with a very difficult subject for me. It will be raw and unedited as that is the only way I can do it.  I am writing this for myself only with the only consideration for anyone who chooses to read it being my regret that I am spewing so much negative energy into the world. But I simply can't keep it in anymore.


I have a secret. It's a secret I have carried my whole life. It is not a secret I kept by choice, as a child it was forced upon me. As an adult I tried to stop letting it be a secret, but I soon found out that it was just too painful for most people to hear. So it remained a secret. This isn't the first time I have dealt with it. I've lived my life for long periods of time without it intruding.  I haven't dealt with it alone, I haven't kept this a secret from my husband.  I would not have survived or had the wonderful life I have had without him. I have long considered him my reward for surviving. He made me strong enough to stop being a victim and become a survivor. This is my secret.

I am an incest survivor.
My father raped me, he used me, repeatedly for years.
My biological father taught me how to sexually service him.
I still feel the disgust of my childhood memories.

My first memory is of my mother, pregnant with my brother. My father told me that while she was in the hospital having my brother I would be sleeping with him in their bed. I knew what would be expected of me. The things I would have to let him do and the things I would have to do to him. I didn't want to do it, but I wasn't given a choice. My brother is 3 1/2 years younger then me. He doesn't know my secret.

My next memory, I'm sitting in a rocking chair in our living room, I'm about 7 or  8yrs old. I was sitting quietly reading a book. I read everything I could get my  hands on. My mother was having tea with a friend in the kitchen. The lady was a neighborhood mother with kids my siblings and I played with regularly. She often came over for tea with mom. I doubt they knew I could hear them from where I sat reading. My mother was mad at my father about something, I heard to her say to her friend that she was cutting my father off from sex. I so distinctly still hear her words, "He can go stick it in a coke bottle for all I care". All I could think of was no, it wasn't going to be a coke bottle. I knew things would be getting worse for me. I started to cry, but I knew if my mother heard me crying she would come and ask me about it. I couldn't tell her. I was afraid that when I couldn't tell her she would get mad and take my book away. She knew that would be worse for me then the belt. That didn't really work anymore. So she had started taking my books away. So, I stopped crying. I didn't cry again for a very long time.

I know that my father must have said something to me at some point to get me not to say anything. I always knew it was wrong. I never wanted to do those things. But every time I would think about telling I get over whelmed with dread. I still do.  It pisses me off that I can't remember what he said that made me know I couldn't tell anyone. I have tried to rationalize that it really doesn't matter anymore. But I still get pissed about it.

I was 10 yrs old when I started my menstrual cycle. It didn't stop him. I had read enough to worry about getting pregnant. Which I did, until it stopped about a year later.

It's common where I live to have showers in the basements, the homes are old, many still have the original claw foot tubs in the bathrooms. That's what we had in our home, a big heavy claw foot tub, so my parents put in a shower in the basement. The basement wasn't finished, the washer and dryer were just a few feet from the shower curtain. I was 11 1/2 yrs old. I was sitting in the living room reading. My mother was doing something and asked me to get the laundry from the dryer. My father was down there taking a shower. I didn't want to go down there, I knew if I did he would get me.  I tried to tell her I would get it as soon as dad was done in the shower. But she insisted. She threatened to use the belt. Getting beat with the belt was nothing new I had been beat with it many times throughout my life by both of them. Welts from my knees to my mid back were not uncommon. Actually, they hardly did that anymore, it just didn't work. I would take whatever they gave and never let out a peep. But, I just got tired of arguing and went to get the laundry. I wasn't down in the basement long enough to even begin to get the laundry. He heard me open the basement door and come down the stairs. He was waiting with the shower still going and the shower curtain open. A few minutes later when I didn't come back up my mother came down to see what was going on. My father didn't hear her coming down.  I was on my knees, in front of him, his hand was on my head I got pushed away and told to go to my room.  And that's it. that's all I remember about that. Except, I do feel like she set me up.

A few weeks after that I started going to therapy, it was awful. I had to get out of school early, but I couldn't tell any of my school friends where I was going or why. I had to take the bus downtown by myself once a week. It was fall into winter time. It is cold and dark and snowy where I live at those times of the year. The whole experience of getting there was so terrifying and I could tell the therapist was just guiding me to say certain things so she could say I was ok. So I figured out what to say as soon as I could so I wouldn't have to do it anymore.

I wish I could say that was the end, oh how I wish that was the end. In a way it is the end, but it is also a beginning, there is more I need to say. I have to follow it to the end. The end is where I'm at now. I want this to be the end and the beginning. Be well my friends, I'm sorry if this caused any pain.

Stuck in the vortex

I'm stuck in a vortex of negative emotions. They're swirling around me and dragging me down.

I have been dealing with something very ugly, very negative. It's something I have dealt with before, more then once. Every time I think it is going to be the last time. I think its gone and won't effect me anymore. When it surfaced again many months ago, it pissed me off. I couldn't believe that here it was again. This issue I had dealt with before and thought I had put behind me for good. I really thought it couldn't hurt me anymore. I've been dealing with all the same emotions again that surround it. The anger and rage that I have to face it again. The pain and betrayal of what occurred. The guilt that I feel because I'm not strong enough to not let this effect me. It's a ghost that stands between us, that holds me back from being the person I want to be. I've wrestled with how to deal with it. I've considered just forgetting everything and being happy with what I have. After all, what I have is great, maybe it would be better to just push it back down and ignore it. If I don't pursue my interest in spanking and D/s then this issue will eventually go away. I tried, I stepped back many times, stopped lurking, stopped reading and learning. But I'm a greedy bitch, as good as things are I want more. I don't want this to limit me anymore. So I started this blog, knowing that eventually it would come out and hoped it would help me to finally get past it for good. I've been gathering my strength to write about it, to face the issue and put it to rest.  I'm afraid it will completely break me and I won't be able to recover. I feel like a dam waiting to burst and when it does all the ugliness will spew forth and I won't be able to stop it.  I have been doing a relatively good job of keeping it under control and not letting it effect our relationship. Until Saturday night. I made the mistake of letting my guard down. I was riding the high from Friday night. I felt like I had a breakthrough Friday night. In the euphoria of my accomplishment I mistakenly thought, maybe I don't need to write about it, maybe I can work it out by myself.  Wrong. Saturday night my husband said something, something that if I had had my guard up would never have hurt me. But, I didn't have my guard up and in a flash there it was, right in my face. I've been stuck in the vortex of emotions ever since. It definitely effected the rest of our weekend.   When I'm upset I don't lash out, I get quiet, very quiet. We barely spoke to each other yesterday. I did explain when asked that I was hurt by what he said. He apologized, but I could tell by the look on his face he doesn't understand. I haven't told him that this issue has come back. I think he probably suspects it. I catch him watching me sometimes, just watching me. He probably wonders, but he doesn't ask.  He doesn't ask, cause if that's not it, he doesn't want to be the one to bring it up and cause me pain. I haven't told him because it makes me feel like a burden to him. Like I'm flawed and he deserves someone better. I always think I can protect him from this when in reality I'm not strong enough to protect anyone. So here I sit, stuck in the vortex, swirling down, down, down. The ugliness is welling up, I can't control it anymore. The dam is going to burst, and its going to be ugly.

Submissive or selfish?

Once I got over the shock of realizing I was submissive to my husband I of course had to know how this had happened. So I started looking at all the details of our life together.
I just have to say, it doesn't seem submissive to me, it seems selfish. This is why:
I lived alone for 5 years before I met my husband, took care of all my own finances. Once we married I continued to do it even though I really didn't want to. Hated it in fact. When we decided to have our first child I told him I no longer wanted to do the finances. He took over and does a much better job then I ever did.  I'm not a money oriented person, its a necessary evil I would rather not deal with. My husband is a very generous man. If he says no to something he has a good reason for it. Seems selfish to me that I get basically everything I want and never have to worry about the money end of things.

As for driving, I hate driving, I would be so happy if I never had to drive anywhere again. My husband prefers to drive. We made a deal almost immediately, he is my designated driver for life. I like knowing as I'm flitting about some party or social event that he is watching out for me, protecting me, thinking about the time and our other responsibilities. I don't worry or think about any of it. All I have to do is get in the car when he tells me. And "you about ready" can mean anything ranging from these people are idiots and I've hit my limit(usually a work function) all the way to I wanna jump your bones. Thats my favorite one.  And I have been known to tell friends that's why I'm leaving the party, got a better offer. He even keeps track of my shoes for me, cause inevitably they come off some time during the event( I despise shoes and only wear them when required by law). Seems selfish to me.

Forget me even trying to buy a car, the only things I would consider are the color and does the stereo work. He however considers everything, picks out the car that is best for my needs at the time and buys it. I show up just in time to sign the paperwork and drive it home. Seems selfish to me.
Housework, cooking and laundry is something I learned to do at a very young age. It takes time but almost no effort on my part. It's just automatic for me. So, I do something that I would be doing anyway and bonus, it makes him happy.  I never mentioned all the stuff he does for me. I haven't put gas in my own car since the day I met him I think. He does everything, I just drive it. I'm so spoiled he even gets it out of the garage for me because I don't like messing with it.  Meanwhile his car is out on the street, covered in snow. Seems selfish to me.

He's a picky eater, I'm a non eater. It is something he noticed almost immediately and set out to fix. He fed me constantly.  He likes simple foods, meat and potatoes and he's happy. Knowing I need to cook something simple for him everyday helps me keep my issues with food under control.  Yep, seems selfish to me.

As for saying no to sex, well thats a no brainer, multiple orgasms, need I say more?
Very, very selfish of me.

I DID IT!!!!!! I'M SO HAPPY!!!

Yay, I'm so happy. I did it. I did it, I did it. Yay me. 
I know you want to know what "IT" is. I'm not telling, cause what "IT" is, is not the important thing. The important thing is I DID IT. 
It's something so simple, so easy really and very vanilla. Something he wanted but would never ask for. He knows it takes me to bad dark places. He protects me from those places, so he never asks. It pissed me off big time I couldn't do this. I've been working on it for the past couple months.  Last night I did it. He liked it, I liked it and no bad dark places.  And I slept the best I've slept in months.
 He told me this morning he will be thanking me tonight. He doesn't owe me any thanks. If anything I owe him thanks for being so understanding and patient.  But I'm gonna let him anyway, afterall, if it makes him happy, who am I to deny him.  Hee,Hee,Hee.  

The spider and the fly.

I'm so agitated, I feel the energy building and I'm going to explode.

I don't know what happened, the day started off so nicely. Morning sex, yay. You know the kind. You're both awake, almost. You look at the clock and realize you actually have a few minutes before you have to get the day started. Its quick, its familiar, its lazy, its comforting. A stolen few moments to connect. A reminder of why you get out of bed and do the things required of you during the day.

OK, doing fine so far. Get the day started, nice convo with my son while driving him to school.  We've had a rough couple years with him, things are getting better now.

Things still good, start cleaning cause that's what I do, especially if I want to avoid something else.

 I'm avoiding looking for a job. I seriously get heart palpitations just thinking about working again. This is not something I ever had a problem with. I have built a career that has been very rewarding. I work in health care. I always knew I would.  I was good at it too.  If you have a medical emergency or issue I'm a good person to have around. I can handle just about anything. I've seen alot.

Here's the problem as I can identify so far. Several years ago I was working at a trauma center in our city, its one of the biggest employers in our city. I had worked there for many years. I started feeling burned out. There were other things I wanted to do, but didn't know how. We talked alot about it, he fully supported me going back to school to learn whatever I wanted. I got the info and got everything setup to start school. There were power shifts at the hospital, my job was a casualty. I started school as scheduled, I found another job within a few months. It was a small family owned company. I was one of only 12 employees, more males then females. It was a unique experience. I actually liked all the people I worked with, but I hated what I did. It sucked the last little bit of my soul right out of me. I couldn't keep up with all my obligations and did not finish school. It contributed to my crash and burn moment.

I can't just remove my emotions from it and find a job, as much as I would like too. As with most places, the economy here sucks. My choices are limited. My husband would have no problem with me staying home if we could afford it. I've been out of work for 16 months, the only reason we aren't totally desperate is because of him.  He's being so patient and so supportive. He's waiting for me to get my shit together and make some decisions. Because this goes so much deeper than just a job, it goes all the way to the core of who I am. This isn't a decision he can make, he knows this. Only I can figure out what will truly make me happy, once I do then he can help me get it. He will, he always does, no matter how wacky he thinks it is. As long as its not detrimental to me or our family he's fine with me being a bit wacky. If pressed he might admit he enjoys it. Just look for that little grin and the slight shake of his head. Then watch his eyes as he looks at me, see that twinkle. I want to see that more often. That's why I can't give up. That's why I have to face the ugly stuff I know is coming.
I'm just not strong enough yet. But I'm getting close.

Feeling better now, more positive. Like I've unraveled another knot in the string that is choking me. Life feels like a spider web right now. And I'm the fly.

Submissive? Who? Me?

Not me.

I've been told I'm intimidating, so many times in fact I was beginning to think that was my real name.  I've been told I'm overconfident. Really, is there such a thing as too much confidence? I've been described as a strong woman. What's wrong with being strong?  I had breakfast with a close friend this past weekend, she was telling me her brother's impression of me, (we had just met recently), she just laughed and told him  "that's faerie, you always know where you stand with her." . Shy and retiring I'm not.  Nope, I'm not submissive. Not me.

Well, maybe, let me just take a look at it:

My Husband takes care of all the finances, I get an allowance and I ask before I buy anything.

I rarely ever go anywhere without my husband, he always drives when we do go out. He decides when and where we go when we go out. When we are out he decides when we come home. He says, "you about ready?" That's my cue to say my goodbyes.

The only say I've had in any of the cars I've driven for the last 25 years has been the color. He has picked out every single one of them.

I do the housework and the cooking and the laundry.  I've often teased him about having a laundry faerie, cause as far as he is concerned his clothes magically appear clean and folded in his drawers. My mother has asked my why I "wait on my husband hand and foot?"

He's a picky eater, he grocery shops with me and picks out what he wants to eat.

My schedule definitely revolves around his.

I've never denied him my body.

Hmmm, can I be intimidating and confident and strong and submissive all at the same time?
Yeah I guess I can, cause once I really stopped and looked at it, I'm submissive, but only to him.

I wonder if he knows he's the HOH?