I didn't want to want what I wanted

I didn't want to want what I wanted. It had been so long, about a month, so it was easy to convince myself I didn't want it. Recent tension causing issues between us made it easy for me to believe I didn't want it. Just because we suddenly had some unexpected privacy didn't mean we had to take advantage of it.

Except, I did want it. It's really of no consequence how long it has been. The recent issues had been addressed and the tension was subsiding. Besides, I never say no, cause there is no good reason, short of major illness to say no. It's how we communicate best and we badly needed the chance to reconnect. If we hadn't taken advantage of the unexpected privacy I would have been disappointed.

All these things ran through my mind in an instant when I realized we were actually alone in our home and would be for some time. That's also when the butterflies started stirring in my belly, quickly advancing from a slight flutter to a full on swarm in a matter of minutes. None of which I revealed to him, not that any of it would have made a difference.

He was a man on a mission. He would have preferred to see me kneeling, bent over the end of the couch, but he took into consideration my very sore knees and instead let me lay on the bed. The magic paddle was soon being swung with some considerable force. The man just does not get the concept of a warm up.

The fleece lounge pants I was wearing provided very little cushion from the swats. I felt the sting so acutely that I really did wonder why I wanted this. I struggled through the first few thinking maybe this won't work, maybe I don't want this. Then I remembered, all I have to do is relax and breath, so I did just that.

My butt was soon quite warm, at least on one side. For some reason he was very focused on the left side. I had a brief thought to ask him to even me up some, but I didn't. I remembered that how he decides to spank is not for me to say.

All too soon it seemed he was removing my lounge pants, only to discover that I actually had underwear on. Those were quickly ripped away and the paddle was back in hand and being vigorously applied. There was no longer any doubt as to why I wanted this and most definitely no question as to whether it would work or not. I was happily floating among the mists of pain turned to pleasure and was one very contented sub.

As I was floating in the haze I realized the sensation had changed. Hmmm...that's really stingy. I didn't know what he was using, but I did like it. I couldn't identify the sound of the implement he was using either. We don't have a lot of implements and usually I can tell from the sound if not the feel, but this one seemed quieter than any I remembered. Oh...a quiet implement, yay, must remember that for later use.

I could have raised my head and looked into the mirrored headboard to see what he was using, but, at that moment, I didn't care enough to do that. I didn't care enough to raise my head and look when he changed implements once again either. At that moment in time, which seemed to be standing still, all I cared about was that I was finally where I most wanted to be. Submitting to him and what he chose to give me.

Much later, after the spanking was done and we had moved on to even more satisfying activities, I found out what the mystery implement was. A plastic coat hanger, followed by the wooden spoon. That coat hanger was rather stingy, but, I did in fact, like it very much. That makes me think maybe my I'm getting over my total fear of a cane. That makes me think maybe I should do some naughty Christmas shopping.

There have been some very recent developments that may actually allow us some much needed privacy on a more regular and frequent basis. That makes us both very happy and I might even have some fun things to write about more often.

When I Am...

I'm big into visualization. I cultivated it many years ago, as a way to deal with the visions that come to me.

I see a huge ball of knotted yarn. I pick and I pick at the knots until they unravel. Sometimes, the unravelling is painful, necessary, but painful.  I think I've picked my way through a few knots.

When it comes to D/s, I've realized that I have two settings.

Submissive.

Service.

For some, those might mean the same thing. For me, not so much.

When I am in a submissive mindset, I will do anything he asks of me. I will fly freely, inhibitions left by the wayside. He is firmly in charge. I am totally malleable. I will kneel at his feet. I will be his slut. I will not question. I will surrender total control. I will willingly obey and thank my Sir for that privilege.

When I am in a submissive mindset, I crave the pain. I crave the attention. I crave his focus, solely on me. I crave the well placed slap of the strap. I crave the blows of the paddle, as they reign down, robbing me of breathe, robbing me of thought. I crave whatever he wants to give me.

When I am in a submissive mindset, the pain sets me free. It allows me to fly among the ether. It allows me to experience life with all my most base senses. It allows me to feel, with every fiber of my being. My soul screams surrender, there are no barriers, it is glorious.

When I am in a service mindset, he is my focus. I will do anything he desires to give him pleasure, but I must be the one in control. I must be the one who orchestrates the dance. There must not be any move on his part to provide me any attention.

When I am in a service mindset, I do not expect, nor can I receive, any attempts on his part to satisfy my needs. My needs are satisfied when he achieves pleasure, by my hand. But, the pleasure must be as I dictate, he must be willing to relax and receive and let me control the situation. I can do this for him, if he would learn to allow it.

That Moment

There's that moment.

 

The moment immediately after the strap falls,

immediately after the paddle bites.

 

Pain.

Searing.

Hot.

Intense.

 

My mind runs so quickly.

 

What was I thinking?

Why would I subject myself to this?

Why do I seek this?

What if this isn't what I want?

 

Then I remember.

 

BREATHE.

 

All I have to do is breathe.

 

Surrender floods in with the breath,

my mind empties,

control is given over and given up.

Freedom comes in the surrender.

 

Held within the physical pain,

release from the emotional pain,

release from the mental pain.

 

I question no more,

I want no more,

I desire no more,

 

BREATHE.

 

Freedom is what I seek,

therefore,

pain is what I seek.

 

All I must ever do is

BREATHE.

 

 

Cravings

I'm sitting here waiting for dinner to finish cooking. I've had a long day and a longer couple weeks. I have serious issues I'm dealing with and decisions that need to be made. Things continue to change, moment by moment, or so it seems. I'm used to the fact that life often gets to be a bit crazy. Yet, I recognize that I crave.

I crave the pain, I crave the dominance, I crave the escape it provides. I crave the need to do nothing but breathe, feel, experience. I crave.

Isn't that enough?

It should be. If he knew, it would be.

Do I know why I crave the pain and the dominance? No.

Does that fact really matter? No, not as far as I'm concerned.

I've lived my life by his standards for the past 30 years. That has kept me in good steed, but it has left me wanting. Not because he has failed me, but, because I crave. I crave an escape. I don't want him to ask. I don't want him to second guess. I want him to know, I crave.

I wear the many hats that come along with being a woman in this society. It sometimes makes me dizzy how fast they change. It makes me crave the oblivion that can be had at his hand.

I'm facing a lot of changes, a lot of challenges, I need a stable base, a place to run and hide. I need an escape.

There was a time that feeling like this made me want to run away. Now, I just want to run into his arms and surrender.

I want to feel, I want to experience, I want to forget, for just a moment, that life exists. He can give me that. If he knew.

If he knew? What would he do?

"Come Here"

Those are words I've heard a lot lately. Always in the evenings, usually when I'm all curled up in the nest I make on our bed watching TV. He's sitting on the lounge and he's placed a pillow on the floor between his feet.

It surprised me the first time he said those words to me. I didn't understand what he wanted at first. He's never asked me to sit at his feet before and it seemed a little out of character for him. I thought it a little odd, but I did it anyway.

He wasn't just flexing his dominance muscle though, he gave me a massage. I've been having a terrible time with pain in the shoulder of my dominant arm. Some days I can barely raise the arm it's so painful. That makes simple everyday things like dressing myself or doing my hair very difficult.

Musicman has extremely strong hands and he always manages to work the kinks out for me. It hurts when he's doing it, enough to take my breath away, but it helps. By the time he's done, I'm a puddle of mush at his feet.

Then his hands start to roam, encircling my throat, down my shirt to twist and tweak. The gasps are no longer from the pain, it's all about his hands and what they do to me. His mouth, so close to my ear, he starts to give directions.

He tells me exactly how he wants me to position myself. He tells me exactly what he wants me to do. He tells me exactly what he wants to see. He tells me exactly what he is going to do to me.

My world has narrowed, the only thing that penetrates the fog of pleasure, his hands roaming, his voice in my ear. I react to each direction without a moment of hesitation. My body may be sitting at his feet, but my soul is soaring through the ether.

I've discovered I like sitting at his feet.

"I Know What You Need"

We spend most of our evenings together, in our master bedroom. We just laze around at the end of a long day. Talking about our day, spent apart from each other. If I've worked that day, he listens to me vent and usually makes me laugh. I've listened so close over the years, I know more about his chosen career then some of the people he works with. It's the beginning of the day to day reconnection, a ritual we've observed for years.

It has been a really long week, so I got cleaned up and comfy early. If I wear anything, an over sized men's tank  is about it.

He sits on the lounge as I walk by. He's been quiet, I've let him be, giving him the space he needs. Though it pains me some to do that, I have faith in him.  When he's ready, he'll take what he needs.

He reaches out as I pass and pulls me close. I bury my hands in his hair as I bend to enfold him, clinging silently to the man I love. We rest for a moment, catching our breathes in each other.

He stands, I'm overwhelmed and embraced all at once. Nestled in the crook of his neck as he lifts his chin for me to plant faerie kisses.

"I know what you need." He whispers, as he slowly turns and bends me over at the same time. I hear, rather than see him pick up the leather paddle. His hand, caressing up my back as he pushes my head down and bares me at the same time.

SWAT!!!!

Oh!

Yes!

The damn breaks, the tension flows out, lessening with each subsequent blow.

Swat, swat, swat...

Swat, swat, swat....

Leather kissing skin, redness and warmth bloom.

Legs part, a wider stance a necessity for maintaining balance while losing my equilibrium.

Whack, whack, whack...

Whack, whack, whack,

Oh!

Yes!

The lady parts start to burn, as leather meets flesh and the heavens are reached.

I'm lost, a flurry of leather, striking all about my body, delicious pain, I crave it so. Give me more, I beg of you.

My body bowing, arching up on my toes, his tongue thrusting deep to drink of the wetness flowing out. The coolness of his tongue a balm to my burning flesh, soothing, yet fueling the flame.

I feel his strength as he twists and pinches at my nipples, driving me further into subspace. So sharp, so vivid, so exquisite is the pain, that pleasure explodes around me and all I can do is watch in wonder.

"Yes Sir," is all I can manage when the command comes.

I spin quickly and take him between my lips, swallowing deeply and appreciatively. Pausing, for just a moment, to fully feel his length as he hits the back of my throat.  Hands buried in my hair, I grip his hips and hang on for the ride.

to be continued...

I'll Try Anything Once

In the comments of my last post Dee, from (D) for (D)esire, offered to make me a lexan paddle if I would make her a flogger. I love my flogger and would certainly recommend it to all my friends. 

Abby at finalllyfindingme.blog suggested I say no to Dee's kind offer. She loves the flogger, but thinks the lexan should be avoided at all costs. However, tori at painspleasure.blogspot, says the lexan is yummy. Tori also points out that we are all different in what we like, so true.

My motto has always been I will try anything once, twice if it doesn't hurt too bad.  I noted in my reply to Dee that my definition of, "hurts too bad has changed lately."

I have always heard that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. I never really ventured across that line. Pain never caused me pleasure, I never sought it out.  I understood, abstractly, that some people did experience pleasure from pain.  I was not one of those people.

I don't know when I crossed the line, but it sort of feels like I didn't just cross it, but I dove so far across it that I can't even see it anymore. I might have just erased it completely, I don't know why, or when that happened. I'm not sure I care.

It certainly opens a whole new world to explore. For instance, paddles and floggers. We only have a very few implements. A hairbrush and a wooden spoon and a flogger. We both love the flogger. Between the hairbrush and the spoon, Musicman prefers to use the hairbrush. I'm not sure why he doesn't use the spoon. I like them both and wish he would use the spoon more cause it does feel different.

I love the flogger anywhere and everywhere. He is a natural with it and uses it the most. I have noticed that while I do love the flogger, I sometimes crave something different. A different kind of pain. I crave the sting of the brush or the spoon. Or, the sharp smack from his hand.  I am curious about what a lexan paddle would feel like.

That thought boggles my mind a bit. Why am I now able to differentiate types of pain? Why do I sometimes want the soft thud of the flogger or sometimes the sharp sting of wood?  Maybe this is all a happy side effect of menopause. If it is going to make me moody, bitchy and weepy it might as well give me more oppurtunities to experience pleasure. Yeah, that sounds good, let's go with that!!

Sweet Tooth

My thoughts have been swirling all morning. I've been cleaning and dancing around the house hoping they would come together. My house is sparkly clean, not so sure about the thoughts though. This post may just ramble on with no definite point...oh well.

The last week or so has been pretty much D/s free. The little stumble that sent me crashing revealed an issue that we needed to address. This issue's outcome is not totally in our control, but we have acknowledged it and are doing what we can to deal with the situation. I'm counting that as progress.

I missed the D/s. I was starting to crave it. I wanted to feel his control. I wanted to feel the pain.

Last night it came roaring back in the most delicious ways. Ways so delicious they left me a boneless pile of mush. I want to bottle that feeling so I can have it anytime I want. I know me, I'd want it all the time.

He did something last night that surprised me and from what he said afterward he acted on instinct and it surprised him a little too. It was not something I would have ever asked him to do, never even considered it.

I loved it. That surprises me too.  I hope he does it again. That doesn't surprise me.

It does make me think a lot about limits though. Clearly, I'm not good with limits. I see boundaries as a challenge. Can I cross them? Can I push them? I know me, I'll push them.

The physical part of D/s is new for us. I don't know what my limits are. I'm still working on processing the fact that my brain now experiences pain as pleasure. This hasn't always been true.

In some ways it's almost like being in a different body. It craves things it never wanted before. It reacts positively to stimuli that in the past it didn't. It confuses me, I don't know me anymore.

How do I know what my limits are when everything seems so foreign? On first blush I would answer that by saying Musicman knows my limits. But really how could he? If I don't know them, how could he?

What I do know is that I can trust Musicman, he has much better control then I will ever have. I've always known that and I think that is why it is so easy for me to accept his control. I'm safe there.

When I look at the possibilities of where this journey may take us, I feel kinda like a kid in a candy store.  It all looks so good, I want to taste every last piece of it. If left to my own devices I would run around shoving it all in my mouth at once. There are two things I can see that are wrong with that: you don't get the full flavor of anything that way, and, you make yourself sick.

Musicman has a sweet tooth, he also has much more discerning tastes then I do.  He won't let the pretty colors and the sweet smells intoxicate him. He's in control and that makes me feel safe. I'm content letting him choose the candy for me to taste.

                                                                                  

Soul Deep

I have been thinking about why it is that I sometimes feel like I'm a burden to him. He does not think I am, it's just something that pops into my head. It only happens when I am awash in the awful mean hormones.

I think one of the reasons I feel like I'm a burden is because I know I can't control all the negative thoughts that flood my brain during those times. I need him to help me. He is more then willing to help me. He tells me all the time, " I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong." He is so right about that. During those times though I can't articulate what is wrong, I don't know what is wrong, other then I feel bad.

I have told him that a spanking would help, it would bring me out of my head, chase all the bad thoughts away. He is still hesitant about spanking me when I get like this. When I'm rational I understand why, he sees me hurting, he is good man, his first thought is not to inflict more pain but to offer comfort.

If I understood why I think spanking me at these times helped, then maybe I could explain it in a way he would understand. I think I may have a clue about that.

When these hormones hit, my mind brings back all the things I feel like I have failed at in my life. Things that when the hormones aren't around do not seem like failures to me. I am not able to see things objectively when this happens and the thoughts get darker and darker until I feel worthless. If he is not here to help me pull out of it it gets to the point of actual physical pain.

It is hard to describe, it's not like a particular part of my body is in pain. It is as if my soul is a tangible part of me, deep inside me and that is what hurts. It seems at these times my brain is screaming at me to ask him for a spanking. But, I don't see that happening anytime soon.

My mind needs a release valve, that's what the pain of a spanking would be, a way to release the pain in a controlled way. He needs to be the one in control, cause I'm definitely not capable of controlling anything then. The pain of a spanking would be nothing compared to the pain I am already feeling inside. I need to release the negative energy and let the pain go. But I can't do that by myself anymore than I can flip that lovely little sub switch.

So, that's why I think my brain screams at me during these times, "SPANK ME.". It would bring me out of my brain, back to the sane world, disperse all the negative thoughts into the universe, or least back to the nether regions of my brain where I can ignore them.

I don't know if this will ever happen, if he will ever be comfortable to spank me because I'm overcome with the hormones. It flies in the face of the way he was raised, you don't hurt women, period. It's just not in his DNA, so asking him to inflict pain on the woman he loves is darn near impossible for me. It is also the reason why I trust him to do it. I know he would never intentionally hurt me.

That is the reason I sometimes feel like a burden. It bothers me that I need something that he was raised to believe is wrong. I don't want him to feel like he is going against his own morals just to help me.

If I could just convey to him in a calm manor, which means not when the hormones are playing havoc with my mind, that during these times I am already inflicting so much mental and emotional pain on myself that any pain he were to inflict with a spanking would be a minor thing but with a major benefit.

I hope everyone had a lovely Valentine's Day and had some time to connect in what ever way is meaningful for you.

I did :)

Playtime and the After Effects

Yesterday afternoon we took some time to play. It started with a nice leg massage for me. I have a bad knee on one side and a bad hip on the other, my thigh muscles get very tight. Musicman has the strongest hands, it was heavenly, though his hands are getting soft from not working and I miss the callouses. Strange, I know, but I love his callouses, I think it is the contrast against the softness of my skin and the roughness of his hands. I believe I was purring by the time he was done.

I had been laying on my back on the lounge for the massage, my legs were soon up in the air and the hairbrush had come into play. The diaper position is nice for access to the thighs, yep I like my thighs spanked. Strange, I know. This particular position also provides easy access to the lady parts, yep, I like being spanked there too. The brush handle is nicely designed for that use.

When his tongue started in on the aforementioned spanked lady parts I know the top of my head blew off, lol. Before we were done I think I was standing on my head, my back arched so high. I wanted closer, I wanted more. I was reduced to quivering incoherent begging with the need for him.

He is such a gentlemen he gave me everything I begged for.

During a conversation afterwards we were discussing was I a good girl or was I a bad girl. I like the conclusion we came to, and that is: I'm a girl who is really good at being very bad.

Shortly after that conversation I found myself on my knees at his feet, showing him exactly how good I am at being bad. Yep, that little heart pillow is coming in very handy.

I'm going to miss our afternoon play times so much when he goes back to work.

I fell asleep last night with the lingering after effects of the afternoon.  By this morning the physical effects were gone. No bruises this time thank goodness, though I do find it cute that he likes to check frequently for bruising.

I've always heard it said that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. I'm not sure when or how, but my brain has definitely crossed that line. That is the physical benefit of spanking, at least for me. It's also the reason why it would never work as a discipline tool for me.

Then there is the mental and emotional benefit. Feeling his control, whether it is in the form of spanking or him pulling my hair while he fucks my face, or even when he states something as opposed to asking or suggesting, it flips a switch in my head. There is an instant change in mindset for me. I feel so contented, so fulfilled. Like everything is right with the world, and even when Rat intrudes and tells me it's not, it doesn't bother me.

I guess that is what is known as a submissive mindset, I don't know why, unless it's because it seems to require an external dominant influence to achieve. I really don't care what it is called, I just know I like it a lot.

We had a lazy day today just hanging out together watching the snow fall. The mindset lingers today, fueled by the casual swats and dominant remarks. I don't know why I feel so soft and giggly at these times, and I don't really care, I just know I like it a lot.

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.