Double Stuffed

Another long day has come to and end. We lay in bed listening for the silence of the night to arrive. He nudges my foot, just a slight tap or two of pressure. My mind begins to race as I move my foot to tap back. Such an innocent, seemingly insignificant, little gesture. Yet, one that over the years, has become a signal of sorts.

He rolls towards me and begins to tweak and pluck at my nipples, hard. He has very strong hands and the pain from them pinching and twisting at my nipples causes me to gasp with pleasure. I raise my chest with each gasp in an effort to give him unfettered access.

His other hand snakes up to my span my throat. As he applies slowly increasing pressure my gasps become moans. I tilt my head up so as not to impede his travels. I so love his hand at my throat. My eyes closed now, just feeling. As one hand continues tugging mercilessly on my nipples, I whimper softly when he lifts his other hand from my throat and slaps me.

My legs start to spread of their own volition as he alternates between pressure on my throat and slaps to my face. His other hand is still torturing my nipples and the combination is leading me places only he can take me.

Time has ceased to exist when he reaches for the coat hanger. I now lay splayed open and willing to accept anything he wants to give. He wields the coat hanger quite effectively. Moving back and forth between my know dripping wet pussy and my tits. Occasionally interrupting the swats to lick or rub at my throbbing clit. The hanger is soon covered in my juices and he lifts it to my mouth. I part my lips and he slides it along my tongue for me to lick clean.

Between the swats, now randomly falling everywhere from my inner thighs to my pussy to my tits, I'm lost in a haze. A haze of lust that obscures everything but him and what he is doing to my body. I have no ability to say how long this went on, but I do know I licked that coat hanger several times.

My body, now so wonderfully tender, throbs as I roll onto my stomach. I raise my ass and spread my legs wide as he reaches for the lube and the glass dildo. It's been quite some time since we have had any anal action, I'm still somewhat of a novice at it. I have a tendency to unconsciously resist, this time that didn't happen. I was so ready for anything that it slid in with almost no resistance at all.

He gave me just a brief moment to adjust to the fullness in my ass before he entered me. I can't honestly ever remember being so full before. It felt like he had crawled into my skin with me. As he slowly started to stroke in and out of me with his cock he would tug slightly at the dildo and take it along with each stroke. I've don't remember ever being fucked in both the ass and the pussy at the same time before.

I buried my head in the pillows, biting into them to stifle the screams that were uncontrollably escaping me.  I was very quickly raising up to meet each stroke, lost in the rhythm of cock and dildo ramming into me from behind. His balls practically splashing in my juices every time they came in contact with my now very full, very wet pussy. He came with such force I think I could feel it spurting all the way to the back of my throat. 




I have to go get ready for work now, it's been a long week there already, but I will be answering the comments on my last post soon.

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.

Respect

Respect.

 

noun: respect

1. a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

    

verb: respect; 

1.  

   admire (someone or something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

    

    

Respect is a word, a concept, that most of us in this lifestyle are very familiar with. It's a word we think about, talk about and for some of us, struggle with. We are to respect our HOH/Dom/Master. We are required to show respect in all our interactions, no matter what the situation is. We are required to respect and obey any and all rules set down by our HOH's. Heck, the word respect even appears in most traditional wedding vows, along with the word obey.

We had traditional wedding vows. I vowed to love, honor, respect and obey my husband. In addition, Musicman made it very clear to me from the beginning, how important it was to him, that I show him in action and in word, respect for him. I took my vows and his directions very seriously. I do my best to respect his wishes at all times. I'm not perfect, I don't always succeed, but I do try.

In exchange, I expect him to also respect me. I would say, for the most part, he does. However, a situation has arisen that has left me seriously doubting that fact. A situation that has been dragging on for weeks now and I no longer have any idea how to fix. I want to move past it, but I can't, no matter how hard I try.

Of course, the situation involves our adult children. They have both been struggling with some serious life issues. They both moved back in with us for a few months so that they could get their lives together and get back on their feet. That was a year ago. Neither one of them seem to be making much progress.

They do not ever listen to me or any advice I give them, so I've stopped trying. I've accepted that, along with the fact that it will be some time before they ever leave. Really, I don't blame them, they have it very good here. They live their lives the way they want and they do it on my dime. Who wouldn't want that?

The real problem is that they show me and my home absolutely no respect. They have told me that everything in their lives would be fine if it weren't for me. They have told me that everyone in the house would be quite happy if I would just leave. Yes, they are actively blaming me for their bad choices and the predicaments they have gotten themselves into. Clearly they still have quite a bit of growing up to do.

I know that children often blame the mother for everything that is wrong in their lives. I'm the mother, they blame me. Okay, that I can handle, whilst always praying that one day they will take responsibility for their lives and their decisions. I don't hold my breath waiting for that day to come, but I still pray for it everyday.

The crux of the issue for me, the thing I can't move past is the fact that they believe their father, my husband, my beloved Musicman, feels the same as they do. I know this because they have told me this. That is what really hurts. That is what I can't move past.

I did talk to Musicman about this. He assured me it wasn't true. He assured me he would speak to them about this. After of week of no action, I reminded him of what he had promised. He did speak to our son, but he did not hit the main point, in my opinion.

I know that he can not force these kids to see reality. I know he can not force them to listen to me or to show me respect. Well, technically, he could, but he he's never going to do that. I accept that, that wasn't the main point for me. The main point for me, is that he make it clear to them, in no uncertain terms, that they are wrong.

It is very important to me, that my children truly know and understand, that Musicman does respect me and what I contribute to this family. Maybe it should be enough for me that he does respect me, but it's just not. Knowing that my children believe that their father does not respect me is a pain that I can't get past. He could fix this for me, but he hasn't. Before any of you suggest that I can fix it, I've tried, they don't listen to me or believe anything I say.

The fact that Musicman does not see how important this issue is to me has caused me to lose some respect for him. That bothers me quite a bit and I don't know what to do about it. I just know I can't be submissive or obedient to a man I can't respect and I can't respect a man who will not stand up for me.

Control Issues

There have been so any benefits for me in blogging. Not only does the writing help me to sort things out, but the comments often give me added insight into what is going on. That has been the case with my last post.

Believe me when I say I am not as tuned in to what is going on with me as I would like to be. It has taken me quite a long time to figure out the that submission and service are two very different things. I don't necessarily like that they are two different things, but for my own sanity I needed to accept that that is the case.

I don't like the fact that when I am in a service mindset I must retain control, but if I don't it triggers something very bad for me. I go to a dark, painful place where the rage boils out of control. This has been occurring off and on for years and it has taken me this long to figure it out. I can often go long periods of time without ever tripping that particular trigger. Other times it happens frequently.

Much to my chagrin, it has happened several times in the last few weeks. I have gotten to a point where I can sometimes prevent myself from spiralling totally out of control, but I'm still not exactly pleasant to be around. I may not lash out as I used to, but I still withdraw into myself and quietly let the rage bubble beneath the surface, struggling to let it go. I've not been as successful at letting it go as I would like. It's is getting better, taking only hours where it used to take days or even weeks.

As for Musicman, I'm afraid he still has no clue what exactly is going on. That is my fault, because I haven't been able to articulate well enough to explain it. I'm trying, but it's not easy to explain a mindset.

Musicman is a naturally dominant man, but it is a very subtle dominance. I'm the one that has the need for more overt displays of dominance on his part. He has done a great job of stepping up and providing that for me most of the time. Then there are the times when he is tired or stressed or dealing with some frustration when he just isn't feeling it. He goes through the motions because he knows that's what I want. The problem is, I can tell, very clearly, that he is not into it, that's when the trigger gets tripped.

I can be of service, I can offer myself to him with no expectations of overt dominance on his part, as long as I can define how that service will be rendered. If he wants more then I am offering, I can't switch mindsets fast enough. I need the more intense feeling of dominance from him to get there. When it doesn't occur, I get triggered and spiral so fast that both our heads spin.

I don't like having to be the one in control during certain situations. I want to be able to serve without limitations, but that is not the case right now. I have no idea how to proceed from here, but identifying the trigger is a huge step forward, so I'll be happy with that, for now.

The Power of a Blowjob

I read a wide variety of blogs, from vanilla to BDSM and everything in between.  I'm nosey, I like to hear about what other peoples lives are like. I check out a lot more then I read regularly. I read a lot more then I comment on. Some people are just too smart for me to have anything to add. Some peoples experiences are just so different I have no idea what to say, others are so similar I have plenty to say. The one thing that unites all the blogs I read is that I find them stimulating. They make me think. When I think I learn, when I learn I grow, when I grow I blossom.

Lately I have been stimulated to think about blowjobs. There seems to be a sad lack of them occurring for some people. So much so, that getting one is a reason for celebration. Not a bad reason to celebrate, I just think everyone should celebrate as often as possible. The world would be a much happier place if we did.

In the sub world blowjobs appear to be considered a powerful act of submission. Discussions are generated around whether to swallow and the ways to improve taste. Cumming on the face, especially when kneeling is supposed to be an ultimate act of submission. I say "supposed to be" because for me I find it it to be incredibly powerful.

I love giving blowjobs, well, to be honest, I more then love it. To begin with I find the male anatomy absolutely fascinating. I can't resist touching my husband's cock when we are laying in bed, especially in the mornings. I love to watch as I let my hands roam all over the softness of his semi flaccid cock. It never ceases to amaze me how running my hands so lightly over his balls and up that little ridge makes him just bob to life.  I could spend hours delicately tracing all the little veins up to that beautiful smooth head, circling the rim before summiting and exploring down the other side. Every little movement on my part eliciting a reaction. Almost as if it has a life of it's own growing and hardening at my touch.  I'm leading this dance and that's powerful.

Sometimes Musicman gets inpatient with my exploring and grabs my hair and pushes be down, he never has to push hard. Other times I am eager to get there on my own. I'll giggle as I tell Musicman I want to give him a kiss and slowly descend his body. I like to take my time, time to just feel him on my tongue, all the little nuances of maleness that I crave. Those veins and ridges that my hand is now so familiar with, I must taste. 

I have a bit of an oral fixation and want to explore every hard inch with my tongue and my lips to my hearts content. My hair gets caught in my hands, craddling and exploring what my mouth isn't . I let the anticipation of feeling him in my mouth build and build until heaven is achieved when I finally take him in. I always have to pause and just feel the glory that is that much power so deep in my throat. Groan!

After that initial entrance into my mouth it doesn't seem to matter who directs the show. I become obsessed with one thing and one thing only. I must have his cum.  I want to taste it, I want to wear it and I will do anything to get it.  Sometimes Musicman wants to be more aggressive and twine his hand in my hair and fuck my face. That works for me. Sometimes he wraps a hand around my throat and just sets the pace and leaves me to play a little more to my desires.  That works too. Sometimes he doesn't lay a hand on me at all, but provides an ongoing dialogue that inflames me more as I suck and lick like a starving woman.  Oooh, does that ever work.

By this point no matter what he is doing to me, it has turned into a mental wrestling match. Can I maintain the control, the focus needed to make him cum? I get a huge rush of power from his orgasm, from knowing that I can cause all that to happen.  I want that rush desperately, he likes to make me beg for it. I'll beg for it, but sometimes that is enough to push me right over the edge into oblivion myself.

I don't know if it is a sub thing. I don't know if it is the empath in me. Maybe it's just the female in me that feels the power of pleasing her man. I just know I seriously love giving blowjobs, they are to be celebrated. Let's all celebrate a little more.

Armor and Submission

In my last post I talked some about my armor. Not only does it not fit anymore, but I really don't even want to wear it. I've always been aware of it, even actively fortified it when the need arose. Over the years it has been melting away, layer by layer, until it became very thin. That didn't bother me at all because I didn't need that thick armor anymore, I had my shield of protection to hide behind, Musicman.

So where did it go? Why is it gone now?

I think it now sits in the spot on the shelf where I have stored my submission all these years. I never thought of myself as submissive, but the plain truth is I am. I have had no problems over the years with people knowing that I defer to my husband, in fact I take pride in it. No one ever mentioned the word submission to me and I never made the connection. Neither did Musicman, when push comes to shove he will admit that of the two of us I am the less dominant one, but he doesn't think of me as submissive. How did we both miss this? It's not like we weren't aware of the word or it's meaning.

I've often thought of relationships in the context of decorating a home. At the beginning of the relationship, you move in and you both bring baggage. Like most people we didn't just dump the baggage out and find a spot for everything. No, we took our time emptying the bags, we reviewed and examined things, we decided what needed to be kept and what needed to be tossed. Then we slowly started to arrange things in a way that would be pleasing to the eye.

Apparently I found my submission at the bottom of one of those bags, I knew I wanted to keep it but I didn't know what to do with it. It got put up on a high shelf, out of sight, but always there. Occasionally, when needed, I would bring it out and dust it and then put it back on the shelf.

Now it seems that I have taken my submission off that high shelf, I've dusted it off, but I haven't put it back. I want to keep it with me, I want to be aware of it and the person I am when I embrace it. What I am finding though, is the submissive person I am won't wear the armor. It's heavy and uncomfortable, I can't feel things the same way when the armor is on. I like the way I feel when I have my submission with me. I feel more joy from life, I feel free and unencumbered, the armor doesn't allow for that.

I think it might be time to go see the armor maker, I need some that will fit my submission.


On a side note to let you all know, we will be at the hospital at 6 a.m. tomorrow, it is going to be a long day especially since the time I will need to get up and get ready is about the time I usually fall asleep. If I click my heels three times and say, "let it be over" will it work?

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.

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?