Blinded...

 

 

Lost,

deep and so alone,

within the recesses of my mind.

 

An arid desert sandstorm,

miniscule particles,

 swirling unto a whole.

 

Blasting away the vestiges,

nightmares among the smoke,

the blood runs thick.

 

How I long,

 for insomnia,

my old friend.

 

The dark pit looms,

I shall close my eyes,

refuse to see.

 

Visages and vignettes,

too gruesome to believe,

no one can survive.

 

Blinded by the sand,

I can not go on,

transformation begins.

 

I reach for salvation,

among the pain,

I shall emerge victorious.

 

 

 

 

An Award...With A Twist!

The very lovely lil nominated me for a Very Inspiring Blogger Award. Thank you lil. 

I often have very mixed feelings about these awards. The recognition is nice, but they always come with rules. I'm terrible at following rules, always have been. In fact, my mother loves to tell people that from the age of 3, I've thought rules were meant to be broken. I can't honestly argue with that. Good thing we aren't a DD couple with lots of rules, I'd fail.

So, without further ado, lets get to the rules I'm about to break. Yes, I stole them, as is, from lil's place.

 

The Rules:

1. Display the award logo on your blog.
2. Link back to the person who nominated you.
3. Nominate fifteen other bloggers for this award and link to them.
4. Notify those bloggers of the nomination and the awards requirements.
I'm pretty sure that there's a fifth rule saying to list seven things about yourself...

#1. Done
#2. Done
#3. I'll come back to that one
#4. I'll come back to that one too.
#5. Okay, I'm gonna blatantly break this one.

I've been around blog land for awhile, and I'm pretty forthcoming in my writings about my life. Instead of boring you with things about me you probably already know, I'm gonna give you some facts about Musicman. He is after all, my true inspiration.

1. Musicman is a real musicman. He plays guitar, the keyboard and the harmonica, sings pretty good too.
2. Musicman is very mechanically inclined and can fix most anything.
3. My brothers say Musicman is a redneck, I don't disagree.
4. Musicman wore jeans to our wedding.
5. Musicman is a picky eater, preferring simple meat and potatoes, though he has a wicked sweet tooth.
6. When dressed to go out, Musicman is most often dressed in all black.
7. Due to what he does for a living, his hands never look clean, even after he's washed with industrial strength soap. He once had a job that required him to wash in kerosene to get the gunk off.
8. Musicman has a baby face and the cutest dimples, but he wears a full beard so most people don't know this about him.
9. Musicman is great at trivia and can quote most movies, TV shows or song lyrics at the drop of a hat.
10. Musicman has lived in the same 5 mile radius his entire life, a gypsy he is not.
11. Musicman is an anti-social introvert. Or, as he puts it, he hates people.
12. Musicman will stop to help anyone who is broke down on the side of the road. He once stopped to help a cop.
13. Musicman has a wicked, dry sense of humor.
14. Musicman has one dance step, let's call it the man shuffle.
15. Musicman has no tattoo's and doesn't really care for them. (I have 8.)
16. Musicman is descended from Vikings.
17. Musicman is a steadfast football fanatic and has rooted for the Vikings since he was very young.
18. Musicman is the neighbor on the block who will snow blow for everyone.
19. Musicman has a soft spot for animals, especially dogs.
20. Musicman can touch his nose with his tongue. (I find that both amusing and sexy)
21. Musicman is the single most loyal person I've ever met. If you are lucky enough to be someone he loves, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you.
22. Musicman has lost 2 wedding rings, I've long since stopped replacing them.

I could go on and on about my Musicman, he's the best thing that ever happened to me. I picked 22 things for a reason though. It's because I can and because 15 and 7 add up to 22. I guess that's my way of compensating for the fact that I won't be nominating any blogs of my own for the award.

It's not that I can't name 15 bloggers that inspire me. It's because I can't pick just 15 blogs. I read the blogs in my blogroll and others, because they in some way inspire me. Whether they are DD blogs, D/s blogs, swinger blogs or polyamory blogs, doesn't matter to me.  It's the connection and the energy that attract me to a blog.

I created this little place of mine, to express a side of myself that I can't share with anyone else, other then Musicman.  I created a place to explore and express my darkest and deepest desires. A safe place, to unravel the knot of thoughts, that seek to trip me up. A place to learn and grow, exploring wherever it feels good to go.

In doing that, I found acceptance and community. Every voice, contributing to the conversation. It's exciting and stimulating. How could I ever exclude anyone from that?









His Fault

Just thought I'd start with something inspiring.

 

 

Musicman laughed at me when I told him it was his own fault, but it really was. Ya see, I had asked him how he was feeling. His reply was that his shoulders hurt. He thought that was my fault, but I very respectfully pointed out why it was his fault.

 

It happened last night, we were relaxing, watching some TV and hanging out. He started it, he's the one that murmured the magical words. Those words that have caused butterflies in my tummy for all these many years.

 

"Come here." 

 

He's said these words to me so many times over the years. Sometimes, I don't even get the words, just a finger, gesturing for me to come to him. Other times, he just reaches out and grabs me, pulling me in close. If I have any doubts about his intentions, all I have to do is look in his eyes. His eyes always say the same thing.

 

 "I'm going to consume you.  I will take you to heights you've never known. I will make you soar so high you touch the sun and burst into flame. I will touch your soul and leave my mark upon it. I will show you no mercy, and you will thank me for it."

 

He faced me toward the lounge, then walked away. I realized as I waited, I never look. Many spankings start this way for me. He puts me in position, then retrieves his implements of choice. He's not said I can't look, I just never do. I'm not sure why.

 

He returns and I see implements in my peripheral vision, but I can't tell what. He bends me forward and flips up my skirt. He starts almost immediately. I know from the first blow, he has the leather paddle. I still don't know what else he has brought and I no longer care. I'm lost in the feel of leather connecting with flesh. That moment of sting that explodes into pleasure, the reigning blows cause thought to cease as feelings take over.

 

The stress pours out of me, like air from a pierced balloon. I fly wildly about, too much energy to be contained. Leaning into the paddle as it drives me higher. Seeking, always seeking, that inexplainable place, where our souls collide in a dance that invigorates and nourishes.

 

I hear the words he's saying, burning into my mind. Aiding the ascent to oblivion, my only response, "Yes Sir".  Knowing that the only thing required of me at that moment, is to obey. The confusion of thoughts, lost to the pleasures of pain.

 

I'm on my knees, perched on the edge of the lounge. How did I get here? My body spread wide, open to his perusal, firmly under his control. I can do nothing but react as cool glass firmly invades. I push back, impaling myself upon the rigidness as he continues a running commentary of observations and directions.

 

His words play, like a symphony in my mind, as my body dances to his tune. He orchestrates my pleasure, leading the dance I know so well. Each crest surmounted, not given a moment to recover. He drives me higher, higher, higher. I feel the loss so completely as he withdraws, momentarily.

 

Ahh...there it is, the coolness, pressed against me again, a new place to explore. I experience no hesitation as he invades and begins again. From the back of my mind, it floats forward into my consciousness, I've become the wanton slut he desires. I will take the pain. I will take the pleasure. I will do as he directs, for his amusement.  I will beg for more as he invades and conquers my body as no one has ever done before.

 

When he is satisfied that I've taken all that I can take, he flips me over and begins his assault anew. I'm no longer contained within the confines of my body. His words, his actions, have moved me to another place. A place I seek to be, a place I glory in and beckon him to join.

 

It's so beautiful there, come with me as you drive me higher. We will fly free and experience the epitome of being. The next crest rises before me, my body contorts and is beyond my control. I shatter and don't even realize that screams escape me.

 

See, if he didn't do that to me, I wouldn't have inadvertently hurt him. He tells me, while I was lost within the fog, my body beyond my control, I hurt him. Apparently, I planted my feet firmly on his shoulders, binding myself to him as I flew freely through the ether. It felt great to me, not so much for him. I'd apologize, but I'm not really sorry. I never want to hurt him, but it's not my fault he makes me feel so deeply.

 

 

 

 

It Could Be Worse

I like to think I'm a positive person and that I handle stressful situations pretty well. In most cases I don't have too hard of a time looking at what's going on and realizing things could be worse. That said, we all have days when it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. I'm having that kind of week.

We came home to a severe storm blowing in and experienced 60+ mph winds through the night. No surprise when we got up Sunday morning to find half our roof shingles in the driveway. Not what we wanted, but it could be worse, at least it was just the mud room roof.

Monday morning brought single digit temps, below 0 wind chills and snow, lots of snow. Okay, that's normal for where I live. I put on extra layers of clothes, started the car early to warm up and left for work early to safely negotiate the snow covered roads. It could be worse, at least I have a warm home and reliable car to drive.

Tuesday morning we woke up to no water any where in the house. The main water line coming into our home had frozen. At this point I don't even want to know what else might happen, but I'm still looking for the bright side. We found the problem before the pipe actually burst, so a few hours of warming the pipe and we were good to go again. See, it could have been worse.

Yesterday morning I realized our daughter had let her boyfriend spend the night here. They both know that is not allowed. I was irritated, but figured I needed to speak to her about some other things any way so I would just remind her of the rules. Unfortunately, they left while I was in the shower and I didn't get the opportunity to speak to her. No problem, I'll catch up with her later.

I started to work on the baskets of laundry from our trip. I got it all ready and put the first load in. An hour later when I went to change loads I found a washer full of water and some weird code flashing on the machine. I was hoping it was just off balance and Musicman would be able to easily fix it when he got home. While I waited for him to get home I thought I'd make him a treat, peanut butter pudding. It tastes great, just ignore the lumps please.

The washer wasn't off balance, there was a quarter stuck in the pump. I've been doing laundry for 35 years and never had this happen before. This is the second time it's happened since our daughter moved in and she was the last one to use the washer. Guess I need to add that to the list of things I need to speak to her about. Musicman got the quarter out and put it all back together, it still doesn't work. Time to call my brother who does this stuff for a living. He's currently in Virginia with our other brother, but he should be able to tell Musicman what to do to fix it.

Okay, by now I'm really struggling to hold on to my sense of humor, but succeeding some. That's when the straw that broke the camel's back fell. I'm 99% percent sure Musicman and I are going to be Grandparents come this summer. Yep, I'm all but positive our daughter's pregnant. Cause really, when you're not married, don't have a job and don't have a place to live, having a baby is a great idea. I haven't been able to ask her, because she didn't come home last night.

Since she didn't come home last night that meant an empty house. Yay! Musicman waisted no time attending to some stress relief for both of us. I don't know if it is because it had been almost 2 weeks since I had been spanked, or Musicman was taking his frustrations out on my butt. Either way, that paddle wasn't feeling too magical last night. It hurt, and yet, it was exactly what I needed.

He was very thorough and did an admirable job of covering my backside and thighs. I was already flying high when he put down the paddle and picked up his belt. The sound of the buckle clanging was actually a welcome sound. Musicman rarely uses more then one implement in any given session, so the feel of the leather on my already very red and sore butt was a new feeling for me. Yes, it was heavenly. I think I might need to encourage him to do that again.

I slept like the dead last night and today I still have a lovely sting in my butt and lady parts. My washer's still broken and I still need to talk with our daughter. Four days into this storm we've received over 3 feet of snow and it hasn't stopped yet. Oh well, it could be worse.  Though just in case, I've already asked if we can do it again tonight.

Is There Something Wrong With Me?

I sometimes wonder what is wrong with me. Am I the easiest woman in the world when it comes to sex?  I've wondered these things about myself off and on over the years. I've had, or overheard a few conversations recently that make me wonder again.

The women at work were recently talking about the holidays and their husbands. Many of them have husbands who travel during the week, several others have husbands that work the night shift. The conversation they had was them bitching about the fact that their husbands had taken vacation time over the holidays, so they were home. I personally would have thought that would make them happy.

Seems I was wrong about that. They complained about having them under foot. They complained about their husbands wanting their attention, and god forbid, they had to have sex with them. They all voiced the fact that they liked it much better when their husbands were out of town as long as they left their credit cards behind. Hmmm...that doesn't sound right to me.

I did my best to avoid this conversation, cause I really didn't want to contend with the funny looks I knew I would get. I'm not one to agree with something just to fit in, so usually when these conversations happen I head for the hills. One girl put me on the spot by saying, "the secret to a long happy marriage is to to have your husband out of town for 5 days every week". She then looked directly at me and asked if I agreed. Of course, I didn't. I told her that may work for her, but that it wouldn't work for me. The whole group of women got very quiet and sorta just stared at me. End of conversation.

I remembered this conversation last night when my sister called me to get an update on our brother. My sister is a year older then me, we are nothing alike and have never been close. During the conversation she repeated to me something our mother had said to her that precipitated her saying, "sometimes you have to have sex with your husband when you don't want too. You do what you have to, to survive." Ummm...what?

These conversations make me seriously wonder if there is something wrong with me. I don't ever have sex to survive. I would never be happy if Musicman had to travel during the week, I don't care how many credit cards he left me. I don't have sex with my husband when I don't want too. I pretty much always want too. There are the rare occasions when I am tired and stressed and have a hard time getting my head into the game, but I still want too. Thank goodness Musicman always seems to know how to help me get my head in the game, so it usually works out very well.

I've found myself saying more then once in situations like the ones above, that I'm like a man when it comes to sex. If I'm breathing, I want it. Is it possible I'm the only woman in the world that thinks this way, or am I just associating with the wrong women? I like to think it's the latter.

It makes me laugh to think of their reactions if the really knew me and what my sex life consisted of. They would be way beyond appalled, they'd be horrified.

faerie flies again

We're home and as much as I didn't want to leave, it is so good to be home.  We stayed in  my brother's room, they have a perfectly lovely double bed, but it ain't our king size water bed. We finally got a decent night's sleep, yay. 

A 10 hour trip turned into 11 hours due to getting stuck in an accident induced traffic jam just five miles into the trip. Not the best of starts, but it was pretty uneventful after we cleared that mess. I usually enjoy the trip, we travel through the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah Valley, gorgeous country side. Unfortunately, this time I didn't enjoy the beauty around me, it just reminded me that each mile took me farther from where my heart wanted me to be. That just induced tears on my part.

I did have plenty of time to think while in the car. I realized that this experience is changing some of my limits. Like wiping them away changes. I've always believed in living for today because none of us are promised tomorrow. The mundaneness of day to day life can easily eclipse that kind of thinking though. This just brings that back to the forefront for me.

I thought about some of things that Musicman would like to try that are currently past my limits. I no longer think those limits apply. Now seems like a good time to get past my fears and inhibitions and just try it. What do I really have to loose? Nothing. He has always said if I tried things and didn't like them he wouldn't force me to do it. He's been true to his word too.

I think I was clinging to those limits like they were a security blanket. I realized that they aren't really protecting me from anything. They are inhibiting me from experiencing new things and growing within our relationship. Time to ditch the security blanket, methinks.

All the way home I kept hoping our daughter wouldn't be here so we could reconnect and have some playtime. Oddly, I was almost relieved when I got home and she was here.  That confused me some. Where as just a few moments earlier I had been wanting playtime, I now thought I didn't and was grateful that we didn't have the privacy for it. I realize now I was just so physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted that I didn't know what I wanted.

Musicman, though just as exhausted as I was, did know what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted, me. We had only unpacked the stuff from the car that absolutely had to be unpacked, then we showered and I collapsed on the bed. That's when I started having a problem. Musicman wanted to play, but spanking or any other loud activities where off the table because of our daughter being home.

I thought that was okay, I thought that was what I wanted, soft, sweet reconnection.  I had problems getting my head into the game though. I just couldn't focus on anything, erratic thoughts just kept swirling through my mind. Not surprising really, but I usually don't have much of a problem focusing once he lays his hands on me. Not so last night.  Every time he would try and touch me or stroke me or stimulate me in any way, I would push him away and move myself away from him. Very unusual behavior for me.

Thank goodness I did have the presence of mind to tell him that was my issue. He looked at me for a moment, then he slapped me and said I better get my head in the game cause he wanted me. That was all it took, the damn broke, the erratic thoughts were gone. I was instantly in that lovely submissive head space. I immediately stopped pushing him away or trying to get myself away from him.

I was totally focused on him and the moment, the words he'd said running through my head, inflaming me even more. The next time he laid his hands on me, I was ready. Actually, I was more then ready, it didn't take long at all before I was floating off to subspace, my body convulsing in orgasm after orgasm. I alternately buried my face in the pillow or bit down on my own arm to stifle the screams escaping me.

Today, I'm back in my skirts, feeling more like myself and seriously thinking of just telling our daughter she needs to leave for a few hours. At 22, I think she's old enough to understand why we need some private time together and I have no qualms telling her that. Now that the damn's been broken, I'm ready to fly again.

On a Lighter Note

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The Only Thing That Really Matters

Warning: this post is not at all on topic and not very pleasant. I just need somewhere to vent and this is where I do it. You may prefer to go visit with some of my friends in the blog roll to the left.

First I'd like to thank everyone for all the support, prayers and emails. They are so greatly appreciated. I'm packed and will soon be on the road to Virginia to see my brother and his family. Things have been a whirlwind with his condition changing almost hourly it seems.

We have a diagnosis and it's not good. He has Pancreatic Cancer, stage 3 or maybe 4. We will know more for sure after the next MRI to check for metastases. Either way, it's not good. The tumor has invaded his arteries and veins and is inoperable. The prognosis is a matter of weeks, or if we get lucky, maybe months.

The doctors haven't actually told them that yet, but with my medical knowledge and what we have been told, I know. I am trying to hang on to the last little shred of hope that he will be in the less then 5% of people who beat this diagnosis, but that's been very difficult for me.

I feel as if I am stuck in a bad nightmare and I can't wake up. Because of my 30+ years working in the medical field my family always looks to me to explain things in plain language. I haven't had the courage yet to explain it all too them. I feel like I owe it to my brother and his wife to make sure they understand first, and I refuse to do that until I'm with them. Then we will have to tell their boys, I don't know how I am gonna be able to do that. The youngest is only 12. How do you tell a 12 year old boy who's father has been absent for large portions of his life, due to deployments to war, that his father may die, very soon?

My family up here where I live are either firmly in denial, or creating drama because they can't quite get that this isn't about THEM. Makes me want to slap all of them. For Musicman and I this brings up not only the pain of possibly losing my brother, but some very bad memories. This is almost the exact same scenario in which we lost his mother. She was admitted to the hospital with vague pains, diagnosed with widespread cancer and passed 6 weeks later. She never made it back home. We know exactly what they are facing and it's going to be brutal for everyone.

My goal now is to get to my brother and hope we can get him stable enough to go home. Right now, that's looking very doubtful. He is on a pain pump and a feeding tube. He is very weak and they were hoping to get him more stable, then do surgery. They can not remove the tumor but are going to try and bypass it so he can eat again. The surgery was supposed to be tomorrow or the next day, but he's not tolerating the tube feeding and will go into surgery later today. If he makes it through that, we might have a chance of getting him home.

At some point he will start chemotherapy, with the goal of shrinking the tumor enough to relieve some of his pain and maybe give him a few more weeks. That is if once he knows and understands, he doesn't give up. He's young, only 39, he has access to some very good doctors, if he fights, he might make it. We just gotta convince him of that and get him to fight with us. If we can, I'd like to try and get him into a clinical trial, that's his best bet for surviving this.

As things stand right now, I will be coming back home late Saturday. We both have to go back to work on Monday. I'm hoping to have a concrete plan of action for moving forward before we have to come back. I'm very much hoping to wake up soon from this nightmare and having some good news to share.  Maybe even something on topic occasionally.

If you've read this far, thank you. If you take anything from this post, let it be this: live every day like it's your last. Be generous in giving your love and open to receiving love, that's really the only thing in life that really matters.

Look Out Dixie

I've often wondered how we setup this everyday D/s dynamic so early on in our relationship, without me realizing it. After much thinking I did realize that even though it is a D/s dynamic, I never thought of it that way. I thought of it as us learning to communicate well and learning what was important for each of us in this relationship. That is the dynamic we set up and just never really sought to give it a name.

After the events of this weekend, I no longer care how we did it, I'm just glad we did. I'm glad that it's been in place so long that it comes naturally for both of us. It's not something that we need to think about constantly or even put much effort into actively doing anymore. It's just there, and that's very comforting in times of stress.

Musicman finally succumbed to the bug that has plagued him all week, he's sick. So, even though we finally had an empty house, playtime was not on the agenda. I'm a little disappointed, but, more accepting of the fact that it is that way. He offered, but I knew he didn't really have the energy for it. Poor guy is running a fever, all over body aches and many other gross things I won't share with ya'll. No need to gross everyone out.

I also realized that even though a nice long spanking and large amounts of pain would give me some momentary relief, that's all it would be, momentary. I'd take momentary, if he was feeling better. What I really need from him, I'm already getting. Support and love as I struggle with the tears and fears. I'm not afraid to admit that my brother might die, or that I can't quite handle that.

I'm frustrated because there isn't much for me to do right now. My brother lives almost 900 miles away. I've been in almost constant contact, but that's a bit of a double edged sword. He isn't doing well, he's been in extreme amounts of pain and they aren't managing it well. That just inspires me to go kick some Navy doctor butts from here to kingdom come. There's a reason Musicman tells everyone that when it comes to his health, I'm his pitbull, it's cause I am.

I'm not intimidated by doctor's and don't accept what they tell me as gospel. I don't pay any attention to rules or commonly accepted behavior. If my loved one is not getting top notch, quality care, I'm gonna know the reason why. When I know the reason, I'm not gonna accept it. I'm going to insist that they do more and keep doing more until everything humanly possible has been done. If I trample on toes along the way, so be it. If they hadn't stuck them in my way I wouldn't have trampled on them. I am a force to be reckoned with, and the Navy doc's are about to find that out.

Musicman and I had already started making plans to travel, we are just waiting for the word and to finalize plans at our jobs. My sister-in-law is as much of a pitbull about her family as I am and she's doing a great job of fighting for him. I'm giving her advice long distance as she needs and trying hard not to just jump in my car and go. She reached the end of her rope sometime during the night last night and raised enough of a ruckus to get the docs out of bed and too the hospital to do something around 3:00 this morning. He's now on a morphine pump and doing a little better with the pain. She's not left the hospital since he was admitted 3 days ago, and knowing her hasn't consumed anything but coffee. She's stubborn and won't admit she needs help, but she has asked us to come.

Plans aren't firm yet, but most likely I'll be on my way south within just a few short days. Best case scenario is major surgery, we already know that. I want to be there when it occurs. I know what it's like to be all alone at times like that and I want to prevent her form having to experience it. She has all her boys with her, but she's a Mom, she's not gonna break down in front of them or lean on them too heavily. My other brother and sister-in-law will be going at some point too. My sisters-in-law are first cousins too each other. We all 6 get along very well and usually have a great time when we are together.

This will not be party time as usual, but it will be very comforting to have everyone together to hold each other up as we get through this. Look out Dixie, here comes the pitbull.

T'was Not Meant To Be

If I hadn't already checked, I'd swear it was a full moon this week. Work has been exhausting, seems everyone wants to fall and break themselves right now. When you fall and break yourself, you go to see a bone doctor. I work for a group of bone doctor's and we've been swamped. I believe I am hearing phones ring in my sleep and I'm one match away from starting a bonfire in the chart room.

Things with our daughter are moving along. Unfortunately, they are moving in the wrong direction. Her situation has become more unstable then it was when she moved in. It's frustrating not having any privacy, but it's heartbreaking watching her struggle. I'm doing my best to stay positive and supportive with her. Musicman gets the brunt of my frustrations though. He handles it all quite well, letting me rant and rave until I'm drained. Then I get a hug and a swat and sent on my way.

He's been a bit under the weather, fighting off a bug that's been dragging him down all week.  I've been arguing with a migraine for two days now myself. That coupled with the lack of privacy and my extreme exhaustion has made playtime a thing of memory, for the moment. Hugs, kisses, pinches and swats have become my main diet. Not the meal I'd like, to be sure, but much better then an empty plate.

I had just about convinced myself that all the above, combined with various sundry daily challenges and the memories that came with the thaw, were what was causing me to be agitated these last few days.  It was kinda easy to convince myself of it, because that's what I wanted it to be. Just a minor rough patch that would blow over quickly. Something that could be easily fixed with just a few hours, an empty house and an implement or two.

Oh, but t'was not meant to be, I should never have listened to the messages on my machine. Why did I pick up the phone and return that call? I don't want to hear the things I heard. I want to ignore it and hope it goes away. If only life were like that, but we all know it's not.

I would ask for a favor, from you, my friends, readers and lurkers. If you believe in God, in any form or definition. If you believe in the power of prayer or healing positive energy. Please pray. Not for me, for my baby brother. He's very, very ill. We won't know the whole of it until Monday, but it's very serious, maybe worse. I can't quite wrap my head around it yet.

He's 9 years younger then me, and a fine man. He's spent the last 20 years of his life defending our country, a career military man. He's married to a feisty little lady with an odd mix of Boston/Southern accent. I can barely understand a word she says, and I love her. She's the closest thing to a sister I've ever had. They have 5 sons, all wonderful young men.

This can't be fixed with a few hours and an empty house, so I'll pray. If the opportunity presents itself to play, I will seize the chance and the escape.

January Thaws

The last several weeks have brought sub freezing temps and snow to my armpits. I'm not a snow bunny, I live for barefoot days spent in the sun. We're experiencing a January thaw, it's common and happens almost every year. Being that I dislike snowy, cold weather, you might think I'd look forward to these yearly thaws. I don't.

Bad things happen during January thaws, painful things, that have altered our lives. Things we don't want to remember, because it's a reality we still long to deny. January thaws bring the cracking of ice and the destruction of our lives as we know it. We're forced to accept a new normal, in order to survive. They bring anniversaries of things it seems wrong to celebrate, yet must be remembered, it's all we have left.

January thaws bring harsh lessons, of life, love and loss. Lessons that we can not conceive of, until they are staring us in the face. Lessons that affect the path we walk upon and the decisions we make going forward. Lessons, forged in steel, that have attempted to shake us to our foundations and beyond. Lessons that make us re-evaluate who we are and what we want from this journey we're on.

This January thaw knocked out our internet for a couple days, a very minor thing compared with some years. As I cleaned and baked my way through the last few days, I've inevitably thought about the things that January thaws bring.

I've thought about the lessons circumstances have forced me to learn.  I've learned, things can always get worse and it's never a good idea to tempt fate by forgetting that. I've learned, that time will heal broken hearts and shattered dreams, as long as I'm vigilant and don't let the pain consume me first. I've learned, there's no shame in bending beneath a burden, it's better to bend, then to break.

The most important thing I've learned from January thaws and the things they bring, I don't ever face them alone. I've learned that when I'm bent and near to breaking, he's here. He's ready to reach beyond his own pain, to pick me up and carry me if need be, until I'm strong enough to walk beside him again. I've learned, I'm an extremely lucky woman, and that should be celebrated everyday.

I'm Sorry

We've been on a bit of a rollercoaster ride. Saturday was a quiet day of chores and errands. By Saturday night outside influences caused Musicman to be tired, annoyed and cranky. I knew this and thought I was prepared for it, but he surprised me.

He was less then honest with himself and me. I don't believe he was intentionally dishonest. I believe he was guided by antiquated, preconceived notions of obligation too me. That resulted in him asking for something he didn't really want. I was aware of all this, but I didn't speak up. I wanted to give him what he said he wanted.

Unfortunately, he sometimes forgets how sensitive I am, that I pickup very clearly on the undercurrents of energy he puts out. I knew he didn't want what he said he wanted, but I did it anyway. This happens on occasion and it never ends well. It didn't this time either.

When this happens I become overwhelmed with frustration. That leads to doubts, questions, me feeling devalued and ignored. I withdraw, then he does the same thing. That just fuels the feelings of rage that build in me.

I try very hard to keep my mouth shut and deal with it. I know if I open my mouth, I will attack. I will say mean, hurtful things that I really don't mean, but can't be taken back. I know that doesn't help anything, but I'm not always successful at keeping my mouth shut either.

In times past when this happened it has taken days, up to a week for me to work my way through everything and come back to him. I always need his help to come back completely. The longer it goes on the more it takes to bring me back.

I can say, that while I am making strides in working through all the conflicting, violent emotions, it continues to take time. We spent the day apart yesterday, barely talking. When we did talk, it was not good and accomplished nothing.

We both have work today, that will distract us some. Maybe tonight we will be able to talk and get something resolved. I do not blame him for this incident, it is as much my fault as it is his. I know we will get through this, I just need to find the right words to make that happen.

I know what my first words will be: I'm sorry.

I found Heaven...at the end of a leather belt.

We had the house to ourselves last night, as usual we were relaxing in the bedroom watching some TV. Musicman typically sits on the lounge, while I curl up on the bed. We have a king size water bed and I have a habit of making a nest for myself with the comforter and curling up in it.

It was early yet and we were in the middle of watching a program, so I was somewhat surprised when he came over and sat next to me on the bed. He had a question for me, "where's this new implement?'

"Ummm...tucked under the edge of the bed."

From where he was sitting, he didn't even have to get up, just reach down and there it was. Well, actually there were two of them. Once I had measured and cut down the belt, I was left with a longer piece. I didn't get rid of it, because I thought it would be better to let him pick which one he preferred. Turns out he preferred the longer one, though he did fold it over.

That gave me pause for a moment when I saw him fold it, but only for a moment. I just laid there, curled up in my nest, watching him as he worked with the belt, folding it, creasing it, adjusting his grip until it was the way he wanted. When he turned to face me, I didn't move, or do anything. I just laid there staring at him as he stood looking back at me.

He never said a word, just reached into my nest, removing my fleece pants and turning me over all at the same time. I ended up with my face buried in the comforter and my now naked ass up in the air. He was standing right at the edge of the bed. He grabbed both my feet and wedged them in between his legs. I was very effectively immobilized.

He didn't give me even a moment to think, which is good, no time to anticipate or panic. The strap fell quickly and repeatedly, such a nice sting, followed by that lovely warmth. He spent some amount of time attending to my backside and thighs. I was very quickly lost in subspace, squirming into the strap and begging for more.

The combination of knowing I was conquering a fear, along with the feel of the leather was intoxicating. I've orgasmed before just from spanking, but not as fast as I did last night. I hadn't even realized that he'd released my legs when he started to tap at my lady parts with the belt. That's usually all the direction I need to adjust position and open my legs. I must have been a bit slower then usual, cause it finally penetrated my haze when I heard him say, "spread'em". Of course, I did, I always do exactly what I'm directed to do when I'm in that head space.

I love having the lady parts spanked and this was no exception. He'd alternate between swatting my ass and my pussy. I love that, cause I never know where the next blow will strike. The anticipation is as powerful as the actual connection of implement to skin for me. I was soon exploding again, my own juices now flowing down my thighs.

I was still in position, kneeling, legs spread, when he reached for my ponytail and pulled me up and back against him. His hand left my hair and firmly encircled my throat holding me in place. He gave each of my breasts a few swats with the belt, then I moaned as his hand left my throat. It was just for a moment, long enough to pull my shirt up, then it was back. Holding me in place and comforting me all at the same time. He started in again on my breasts and this time alternated between them and the lady parts.

The only thing I remember from then on is the all over tingling in my body and the complete and utter feeling of being owned. That irrefutable knowledge, that my body is no longer my own. I knew, without a doubt, I belonged to him and he could and would, use me anyway he saw fit. I don't know how many times more I came before he released me and guided me as I sunk back down onto the bed.

I lay there limply, unable to even think. It barely registered that he had gotten into the bed next to me, until he started to position me again. Still face down, one leg over his lap, the other pushed as far open as it would go. The man gives a new meaning to the word torture, for torture me he did. Hands everywhere, spanking and rubbing and invading me into orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Barely letting me catch my breath after each one before starting the drive up to that glorious peak again.

There was much more that happened after, but all I really remember is, I found heaven, at the end of a leather belt.

Implement of Change

As with most people in this lifestyle, we have accrued a few implements. Not many, but a few. One of the implements I hear many talk about is the belt. I've been pretty open about the fact that I have no interest in it. It carries lots of bad memories for me and I feel no need to change that.

I don't get a rush when I hear Musicman take his belt off. Even reading others talk about it sometimes squicks me out. Not using a belt is not a problem for Musicman, he understands me better then I understand myself most of the time. An interesting phenomenon has been occurring that is starting to change that view. It has happened quite organically too.

Musicman works at a job where he gets quite dirty. It's his habit to change clothes as soon as he gets home. If he's had an especially strenuous day he will change before he even lets me kiss him hello. He says he doesn't want to get the grime on me. Honestly, I don't care if he does, but he insists, so I wait for him to change clothes.

The lounge we often play on is in the corner of our room, next to his dresser. He empties his pockets onto the dresser and always removes his belt and lays it on the lounge. Can ya guess where this is going? Yep, sometimes during playtime, when I'm bent over that lounge, I spot it. Such an innocent thing, just laying there, no harm in that whatsoever.

The first few times it happened I felt a moment of panic and snapped my eyes tightly shut. Inevitably though, they would open again. There it was, still laying there, causing no harm to anyone. After awhile, I got to a point where it didn't bother me anymore when I my eyes landed on it. It's just an innocuous piece of leather afterall.

Then something changed. The last few times we played on the lounge, it was still there, it hadn't changed at all. What did change was how I felt about it. I wanted it, wanted him to use it. All of a sudden, I wasn't afraid of it anymore. At least, in that moment I wasn't afraid.

I haven't mentioned this to Musicman, yet. I wasn't entirely sure I was ready for it. I thought a lot about what it is that frightens me so much about it. What triggers those bad memories and ways to eliminate them. I realized that the sound of the buckle terrifies me, so does the sound of leather hitting leather when the belt is doubled back on itself. I don't want to hear those things. Just thinking about them now, as I type this, makes me feel a little sick.

But, I see a way to overcome the fear, to put the bad memories to rest. I see a way to broaden my horizons and experience the feel of leather. I do love the leather paddle we have, I thought maybe that would be enough. But, now that I see a way to conquer the fear and vanquish the demons, I couldn't let it go.

I took a belt of Musicman's that he never uses, he doesn't like the buckle. Good thing since I removed the buckle. I also measured it and cut it down so it could be used easily without doubling it over. I tucked it away, intending to give it to him on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day. Unfortunately, we've had no privacy to play, so it remains tucked away.

The more time passes and we are unable to use it, the more I want to bring it out and give it a try. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that this could be the answer. This could vanquish those demons that still haunt me when I least suspect it. This is the next step forward for me in living my life out from under the shadow of abuse. It's a step I'm ready to take.

When Teardrops Fall Like Rain

When teardrops fall like rain,

and emotions swirl in tornadic proportions.

Black clouds move in,

obscuring the sun.

 

Where has the hope gone?

Will the joy return?

 

The landscape is barren,

the future too dim to see.

Everything we worked so hard to achieve,

swept away in the blink of an eye.

 

Do I believe in salvation?

 Will healing begin?

 

I stumble through the rubble,

falling over the broken dreams.

Covered in dirt and dust,

to weak to go on.

 

Will you find me here?

Will you bring the dream back to me?

My body paralyzed,
I'm stuck in the waste land of my mind.
Please hurry Love,
come take me to paradise and beyond.

 

 



Hot Fudge Sundaes

I'm not one to make New Year's resolutions, never really have been. If I was, I should really consider working on handling disappointment better. Cause I really suck at it these days. It's something I've been aware of for some time now. I've thought a lot about it and put it down to getting older and crochetier. Don't we all know, or have encountered those older folks that don't sensor anything they say anymore?

When outside influences conspired against us and we had no privacy for anything other then vanilla sex this weekend, I realized it's not an age thing. It's about being authentic, being the real me that I am now. Vanilla sex is definitely better then no sex at all. Sometimes, vanilla sex is what I want, well not really, but it's sometimes what he wants, that I can easily accept.

When we both want more then vanilla and we have no privacy for it, that's when I get really irritated. That's when I feel like I have to pretend to be someone I no longer am. I don't like it, not one little bit. I become resentful of whatever, or whomever I perceive as preventing me from being my authentic self. 

Like most adults in this world, I have, at times, sacrificed my own wants, needs and desires for the benefit of others in my life. I accepted those sacrifices at the time with no resentment at all. Becoming a mother is a prime example of that. Who among us hasn't made sacrifices for our kids? That's what parents do, I accept that.

I still make sacrifices for my kids, still put my own wants, needs and desires on the back burner when they need me too. Most of the time I don't resent it. When my wants get sent to the back burner because of stupid choices made, or actions taken by my adult children, I'm not so willing to accept it anymore.  I'm not so willing to live my life inauthentically, I'm not willing to pretend to be some one I no longer am.

I've reached a point in my life where I want what I want, when I want it. I don't expect any one to come along and hand it to me, I never have. I've always been willing to do the hard work to get what I want. When the hot fudge sundae is sitting there in plain sight, almost reachable, I'm going to go for it every time. Even if it means walking past the vanilla without even a consideration just because it's easier to reach. The only exception to that, is when he says no to the hot fudge sundae and hands me the vanilla, that I can accept.