"old" history

Several readers mentioned anti-depressants in the comments about my "stupid games" post. I suppose I have some old history to offer, if only to put those minds at rest.

In April 2007, I was officially diagnosed with postpartum depression. I've suffered mild bipolar for most of my life, but with the responsibility of a child, I finally got my act together and sought help. There was a nightmare mental health run-in with the hospital (yes, another online name is Katt), and that *just* got cleared up this month (I hope!), but the cliffnotes is that I started on zoloft and got some counseling and things were much improved.

The last time I was in the office, the MD didn't want to renew the prescription. I had another two months left, so I didn't worry too much about it, but I figured I'd just stop...that was pretty much what he was having me do, anyway, right? *hangs head* I know...I know. Beloved's already chastised me and I am back on the pills. I'm also scheduling an appointment to talk to the doctor...let him know that I just kinda crash and burn without the little blue pills.

Damn, but it hurts to admit that! Beloved patiently (but firmly) told me that it's not my FAULT...there is a chemical imbalance in my head and the little blues are "vitamins for my soul". *soft smile* He's wonderful. It still sucks, but at least he helps me see the light in darkness.

We still haven't broached the topic of my collar, though...

"I don't wanna play stupid games!"

CONSIDER THIS YOUR WARNING....ALL ABOUT MENSTRATION AND RESULTING "PROBLEMS" AND BRATTY BEHAVIOR


I was sixteen when I went on birth control pills. I loved them. I did all kinds of "bad" things with them...I'd "move" my period so that I didn't have to worry about it the week that we were in Yellowstone or so I didn't need to carry anything with me to Australia. I adored the total lack of surprise, zero cramps, and limited hormone rages. Life got even better with Deprovera...NO PERIODS! wOOt! I gave it up for Seasonale...a quarterly cycle...because of the weight-gain Depo is associated with. bummer, but I still had a pretty good thing going.

Beloved and I decided to try to get pregnant, so I dropped off the pills, had ONE cycle, and caught. Whhheeee...about 17 months of no moons! Sure I was dealing with OTHER feminine issues related to childbearing, but no menstruation.

*sigh* About a year ago, my body went back to it's normal, natural womanly cycle. It's been awful. First time in my LIFE I've had cramps that creep into my back and down my legs. First time in my life I've worried about how heavy my flow is. First time in more than 15 years that I have been unable to control my cycle. and I HATE it.

I'd go on pills except that 1) my MD won't prescribe them while I'm nursing, 2) I am probably going to have another child in the next four years and want to do anything and everything to avoid the hyperemesis again. That means no hormones, no pills, no patches, no IUDs, no anything that affects my body chemistry.

Guess who fell slave to hormones yesterday?

uh-huh. Yours truly.

Beloved was amazing, wonderful, awesome...he got up with Boy and let me sleep in. He agreed to run errands with me. He smiled at me and appealed to logic when I was weepy. He complimented me on the upswings. (Mind, all of this is before noon!) We got home, and Boy had fallen asleep in the car. The beginning of the end since it meant no nap that afternoon. We got our purchases inside, and I started trying to address the endless list of things that needed doing...pick up the house, clean, sort Boy's toys and price what we were getting rid of, get the meat roasting for Beloved's gathering on Sunday, laundry, bills, on and on and on.

Beloved was helping me package crib bedding into a tight plastic zippered bag, and we finally managed to get it closed. Beloved drummed on it, and the zipper split. He tried to unzip it to fix the split, and the zipper piece came off one of the tracks. I threw my hands up and walked, grumbling. I sat down at my computer to start listing things, and Beloved said he needed a binder clip to fix it, which meant he was asking me to run upstairs to get one to fix my bag...

and I lost it.

I stomped upstairs, got the clip, stormed downstairs, and slammed it on the table before muttering over my shoulder that I was *trying* to get things done...Beloved muttered something about my needing to chill out...

Please understand that we don't fight. We disagree sometimes, but fights are really rare. Can you see where this is going? yeah....

Beloved got the zipper fixed and wanted to show me...and I exploded. I knew...KNEW...I was going to far, but I couldn't stop. Just at that moment, Boy slowly, deliberately turned his glass of water sideways to create an arc of water on the rug. I yelled.

Beloved seized my collar and dragged me upstairs, yanked out one of my cuffs and chained me to the bed.

"I will be back for you in an hour."

I screamed bloody murder. It was like I was a four year old child and I tantrumed like a champion. I threw the pills across the room, shoved the blankets off the bed, slammed my hard covered book on the floor. Beloved turned on some music downstairs and set to work, entertaining Boy as well as doing everything he could to help around the house.

I could hear the progress, and anger and shame welled inside. How does he manage to get stuff done with the Boy awake? Why am I so undisciplined? Am I such a worthless pet that he would rather forget me upstairs than ask me to work? Why, why, why am I no good at anything????

But instead of relenting, submitting, my anger spiraled and stewed for the TWO hours I lay in bed. Not good. I managed to snag the corner of my blanket and pulled it up over my head. When Beloved came in, I didn't move. He reached under the blanket and uncuffed me, the chain slipping to the floor. There was no way I was asleep...

He sat down on the bed, a hand gently resting on my hip. "Come on, love...it's time to let it go. Get up, get dressed. We need to leave for supper."

"I'm not going...just take Boy and go."

He got angry. At last. He flipped the blanket off of me, and I couldn't help but smirk. It was so stupid, so childish. (why, why am I doing this???) He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up. "You are going to get up now, put on a skirt, and get ready to go."

"No, I'm NOT! I'm NOT going! I'm just a worthless pet to chain to the bed. LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't want to play stupid games anymore!"

Beloved spun around, went to the closet, selected a skirt. He then put it on the bed in front of me, picked up some clothes for himself. "I am not going to tell you again...I am going to change Boy, change myself, and when I come back you WILL be ready to go or I WILL beat you."

"You wouldn't DARE...not in front of Boy!" It came out snidely.

"Don't test me on that!"

I didn't have the guts to test him on that...but I put the skirt on sloppily, didn't brush my hair, didn't find my glasses. I stomped downstairs, obviously not ready to go...If he was going to make me go, I was going to make it as miserable for him as possible (damn it, girl, all you are doing is embarrassing yourself! stop it!). I put on my coat, climbed into the back seat, reeking of sulk.

"Stop it," Beloved growled. "Talk to me."

"Right, as if were in a mindset to even LISTEN..."

"Get out of the car."

I threw the door open, thinking I'd gotten away with it. Beloved grabbed my collar and unlocked it, pulling from my neck. "I don't care what you do. Here's your freedom. Boy and I are going to dinner."

"FINE. You weren't going to LISTEN to me anyway!" I stormed back to the house, slammed the door, went straight up to the bedroom, dropping my skirt on the floor, stripped the restraints from under the bed, threw all the toys in the toybox, zipped it up. By the time he got home, there would be NOTHING left of our M/s relationship. NEVER EVER AGAIN. I HATED HIM.

I heard the door beep...Beloved brought Boy in and set him up with a video. He came upstairs, and I could hear the deep sigh before he came in the room, sat down, and looked up at me. Calmly.

"Talk to me..."

and I broke. I cried and cried and berated myself and hated myself and felt so low. The apologies tumbled from my lips. All I'd wanted since the night before was to be cuddled and loved despite my period... I hate being so out of control. Please, please....I'm sorry....

He pet my hair, shaking his head, striving to keep his calm, embracing the Master inside. If he had been angry, I might have had something to beat against, but my Beloved Master yielded, and I collapsed.
I found myself at his feet, in tears.

Boy found his way upstairs, and I tried to cover my tears, as if the child wouldn't know any better. Why are grownups so silly? I hugged him, hugged Master leg, and gathered myself. I washed my face, brushed my hair, pulled on my jeans. I was shaking inside, exhausted, but I tried to make myself presentable. In a few minutes, we were back to the car, ready to go...

We made it through supper...we took his mother out for her birthday...got home, put Boy to bed, and then sat on the couch in the dark. I was personally grateful for EarthHour...I didn't want to face him. The only thing he asked me about was the smirk. Why had I smiled? What was going on in my head?

I cried again, apologizing. I knew all of it was...childish, stupid...but I couldn't stop myself. But there was no spanking, no punishment for my acting out. Maybe there should have been, but that would have fed the martyr. Beloved simply cuddled me, loved me...made me feel guilty and immature and unworthy of Him. At the end of EarthHour, we watch "Behind the Green Door" (my first time) and Beloved teased me lightly about being embarrassed...that was at least three-quarters the purpose of the movie...

He was obviously excited, and when we went upstairs, we made love. Long, slow, sensual...

Now, 24 hours from the beginning of my tantrum, I'm not sure what to do. Beloved has dropped it, forgotten, forgiven. I know...deep down, I know...that all I have to do is ask for the collar again, and Beloved Master will welcome me back. The weight I carry is purely self-created. I'm scared of my collar. I'm not worthy of my collar. How can I ever ask for anything again?

Join me for EarthHour

You know you want to...all the cool kids are doing it!

*grin*

Seriously, EarthHour is a statement about climate change. All you have to do is turn off your lights for one Earth Hour, from 8:00 - 9:00 pm. If you want to do more, sign up and pledge your support. Join millions of people, businesses, governments and civic organizations in nearly 200 cities around the globe for this important global community event.

So my moon started...

My woman's time...my period. *sigh* I can't explain why this basic bodily function is so uncomfortable to me, it just IS. Not in the crampy, hormonal unconfortable...I mean in the mental, "oh, god, just let me hide this week" uncomfortable. I would be perfectly happy if I were allowed to pitch a crimson tent once a month. Minus the shunning, of course.

Beloved remarked on the fact last night because I laid a towel on the bed, as I usually do, in case he wanted me...TMI, surely, but it's the only time "safe" enough to go without the dreaded condom. This morning, I tried to make an excuse, but he stopped me.

"It doesn't bother me, kitten. Hell, I've gone down on you while you had your moon. It's just a natural part of you. It would be kind of like you being upset about my having testicles. That you are so embarrassed by it...it's just...sad."

The truth is I have to fight with myself every moon when Beloved wants me. I'm so embarrassed I try to make sure the lights are off. I scurry to get warm washclothes to clean up immediately so he doesn't have to deal...better yet if we can have sex in the shower with the lights off! Beloved confronts me with oral, I think in part to prove that it doesn't bother him...nevermind him...it's ME who is bothered.

I don't know where the hang-up came from...my sister has a similar issue...but I know it didn't come from my mom...she was always very upfront about bodily functions and medical/clinical stuff. I love the keeper I use and brag about not adding to the strain on the earth every month. *shrug* I don't KNOW. If I wasn't so sure that the Depo and Seasonale contributed to the hyperemesis problems I had while pregnant, I'd jump on whatever birth control promised to make it go away. I'm just shy shy shy about it.

heh. Like you'll believe that after my writing this. Or combining this post with the one on body images. You're thinking, Uh-huh...shy. Riiiigghhht. *sigh*

"Don't forget your pie!"

The rare appearance of rhubarb happened at the grocery store, and combined with the Easter "buy 1-get 1" on strawberries, it was obvious I had to make a pie. It's one of Beloved's favorites. So, last night, I made up the concoction, filled the crust, latticed the top, and baked. Very little overflow, which was promising... I let it sit overnight to make sure it wasn't too runny though. When I came up to bed, Beloved murmmured that the baked crust made him want chicken pot pie. I guess I'll be making one of those soon, too...

Anyway, I cut out two pieces this morning and packed them in a tupper for him to enjoy at work. As he was getting packed up to leave, I called out, "Don't forget your pie!" He raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh? Are you OFFERING me pie?"

I think I turned pink and stammered that Boy was in the room. Beloved shrugged.

"Then you will just have to go to another room, won't you?"

"Yes, Master..."

I went to the kitchen and dropped my drawers, leaned against the counter, and wished I'd gotten a shower this morning...but we'd all over-slept... Perhaps it is hard to believe, but this is really something I have to submit to. I am learning to appreciate receiving oral sex, but I really first enjoyed it when pregnant. It's just another hang-up I have, I guess.

Beloved knelt before me and flicked the tip of his tongue over and around my clit for a minute or so. His fingers brushed my labia, testing but not insistent. I clutched the counter, pressing my hips forward, fighting between moaning and worrying that Boy would come to investigate...

Then Beloved withdrew, grinning at me. I turned crimson and shyly pulled up my jammies just as Boy rounded the corner looking for us.

"Mmmmm....sometimes I'm impressed with how tight you can be, my love. But, you do have one tasty pie, my pet!"

I hope he likes the strawberry-rhubarb, too...

Routines

I had a rare chance to actually drop in on the morning routines of my sister-in-law and another couple when I drove Beloved to the airport at an unreasonable 4:30 am hour. When Beloved came home, I mentioned that I generally like our morning routine.

"Oh? And what is our routine?"

huh. Well, the alarm goes off at 7 am, or Boy starts singing to himself and wakes us over the monitor. Beloved spoils me rotten and often lets me grab an extra twenty minutes of rest in the morning while he plays with Boy. He then brings Boy in to nurse, gathers his clothes and heads for the shower. By the time Beloved is done, so is Boy...and we all head downstairs. Beloved will check in with work or put together cereal or I'll make oatmeal or start water for tea. Boy usually manages to turn on the television for Backyadigans, and we eat a quick breakfast before Beloved shoots off for work...

Or some variation of that.

I like it. There is some family time mixed in there, and most of the things that need doing get accomplished (although you might have noticed I don't usually get a morning shower or a chance to get dressed before Beloved leaves. I *could* if I gave up my 20 minutes....Choices, choices...)

Our evening routine is kinda similar. Beloved gets home about 6 pm and because our backdoor has a security system and goes "Beep, beep beep" upon opening, Boy usually comes charging around the corner, hands spread, asking "hizit?" (His way of saying "Who is it? or Where is it?") I've (hopefully) gotten dinner prepped, and Beloved distracts Boy, takes him outside or just plays, while I finish getting the meal served. We eat dinner, then Beloved and Boy play while I clean up... About 7:30 or so, I'll ask Boy about a bath... "Bah-t!" and he'll look up at Beloved, pucker his lips for a kiss, wave nigh-night and run to the stairs. We change and bath...Beloved often comes up with a bottle and gets Boy out of the bath and into jammies. I jump into my jammies and sit in the rocker as Beloved takes Boy over to the CD player to push play, says nigh-night to the lights, and then settles Boy in my arms to nurse. Kissing us both, he disappears...I nurse for 20-30 minutes and then settle Boy in the crib with the bottle, slipping downstairs.

Depending on the day, usually, I'll start tea water and kneel or sit at Beloved's feet. Beloved might ask me for something in particular, but if nothing is asked of me, I pop on to the laptop, catch up on chat, email, blog, etc.... About 10 or 11 pm, we head to bed.

Or some version of that.

*sigh* Writing it out, we sound like parental old farts, don't we? Oh well....

But beyond those routines, there really isn't anything "routine" about our relationship. In the last couple of months, I have read a lot of other submissive/slave blogs, journals, contracts... I wonder if I'm spoiled, privileged, or at a disadvantage because we don't have a M/s routine or a set contract.

Do we need something more beyond that basic agreement? Do we need a routine to be considered a M/s couple?

We have both looked at actual written contracts, and I think we have both found them to be lacking when applied to our lifestyle. We've TRIED. For a couple of weeks, Beloved was scheduling my day. It was a ruddy awful experiment. Beloved quickly became disillusioned with the monotony of household work; I grew frustrated because Boy wasn't always accomodating to Mommy's locking him out of the bathroom so I could clean it without him shaking cleanser everywhere or trying to get into the chemicals... EVERYONE was stressed out and anxious. So, we abandoned the trial.

The fact is our lives aren't on a clockwork schedule. Beloved doesn't always know WHEN he will be home...even if I ask at 4 pm if he'll be home by 6. His job doesn't work that way. Anyone who has been a parent can tell you that while routines are very helpful, it's the child who really dictates the day-to-day plans.

Beloved expresses his preferences...and I do my best to accommodate those preferences.

He likes me to wear floaty skirts, for example, but doesn't pick out my clothes. The couple of times I've ASKED Master about what I should wear, he tells me to give him outfit choices. He has been very amused and pleased the couple of times I've met him at the door on my knees, but has never said I must do so. He inquires about the daily plans for Boy and me, occasionally asking I attend to some task or chore, but he doesn't give me a "stamp of approval" for which playdates I choose to make or what mundane household chores I set myself to.

All of this makes me think about the the story on life's priorities . Presently, the rocks are family, work, friends. The pebbles are our groups (drum circle, OLI, poly group, game nights, DIY home improvements, etc.) The sand is the M/s. It's not the LEAST important or the small stuff...it's important. It slips between and around everything in our lives, filling the gaps, completing and polishing other aspects in our lives.

I just don't know how that can be written into a routine, do you?


*sigh* and please, for the love of Pete, don't take this as a criticism if you DO have a life that fits into a routine. Some days, I wish that would work for us! It just doesn't, so we have found what works for US.

WANNA GOOOOO...!

You know the adage, "Be careful what you wish for"? That is something I'm just slow to learn, I guess. On Saturday, I wrote and shared a new spanking story with Beloved (see comment).

Was I actually asking for something? um, yeah, probably. After reading it, Beloved gave me a choice...bring down the toybag, in which case he'd make me cry, or bring down his book, in which case we would curl up on the couch, snuggle, and have a quiet afternoon. In neither case was I going to get the things *I* wanted to accomplish done...cleaning, grocery shop, general household monotony. I agonized over the choice, I really did...but when I came back down the stairs, it was with the toybag. Surprise, surprise....

I knelt, facing away, as Beloved set up the scene. That was torment. And when he blindfolded me, cuffed me, and led me to the table, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask "Why...what have I done to deserve this?" I asked for it. I wanted it. It wasn't a punishment...it was a reward! *deep breath* Someday, maybe I'll get it. *rolls eyes* "Be careful what you wish for."

Beloved chained me bent over the pool table and spanked me hard, fast, good. If I were to guess, it was maybe a 20 minute scene, but stretched over the table, blindfolded, and having my ass thrashed, it seemed to last forever. He took me right to the edge, where my safeword was dancing in my head and I was begging, screaming him to stop, snot-faced and teary-eyed. My tears brought words of praise. My pleading that I could not take any more, Beloved softly reassured me that I could....would. That he was proud of me. That I was going a good job. At the end, I was actually terrified of the warm oil from the body candle...that is how raw I felt...but of course, I was restrained and had no real say in the matter...and after the initial HOT, it was soothing and wonderful and I loved it...

The next morning, I sported two small welts and a light bruise, but nothing worse than that. And two days later, I really feel nothing at all. In fact, when I checked my e-mail, I found something that forced me to write, because you'd think I'd learned to "be careful what you wish for."

But no. I wanna go to the Spank Festival in Wisconsin in June. The simple fact that I have friends among those presenting is just too cool. The idea of going camping? Oh yeah! A weekend of BDSM play? *mumbles something unintelligible*

"Be careful what you wish for."

um...anyone else feel this way?

So I was sent to a Catholic school for K-8. The card my mom gave me on graduation day read:

"Congratulations on finishing 8 years of Catholic school! This guarentees..."
(open card)
"...that you'll always feel a tiny bit guilty."

*sigh* It's true, too.

Today, we are not religious at all. I don't think I've been to any church service outside of weddings/funerals in more than two years. If you really want to ask, I'll be happy to go into my beliefs, but that's not really why I'm writing.

The reason I'm writing is Easter.

It's with mixed feelings that I admit that I "buy in" to the commercial aspects. I did baskets for Beloved, Boy, and the cats. I like the magic involved...the Easter bunny is as important in my child-mind as Santa Clause.

But...well...

At Christmas, I did two stockings for Beloved. One for my husband, and one for my Master.

While it occurred to me to do a second basket on Easter, it felt wrong...dirty. I thought it kind of bizarre. Beloved said that Easter is less commercialized and still carries religious overtones. I'm not sure THAT is quite true...stroll down any local grocery store and you'll find an aisle dedicated to Easter crap...plastic eggs, special candy, bunny ears, clings, ornaments, blow-up lawn decorations....

So what's the deal? Anyone else have a thought on this? Or am I the only silly slave with conniptions of consciousness around this holiday? Regardless, Happy Easter...

We interrupt this blog to bring you this thought...

Sorry for the sidetrack, but this is outrageous...


Representative Sally Kern is one of 535 men and women elected to the United States Congress, the group responsible for all legislative power in this country.

Representative Kern is on several committees, including Education Committee, Common Education, Human Services Committee, and she serves as chair for the Social Services Committee.

Hear her words...

Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Unspoken desires

The last three weeks have been hard.

Beloved's work has been on hyperdrive, and he has put in 80 hours, 70 hours, and 80 hours...including a 3-day business trip away from home. When home, he has been bombarded with tech-support calls over things that HE shouldn't have to deal with, but convincing people to check if the box is plugged in before you call just doesn't seem to sink in...

He's exhausted, and yet he comes home and plays with Boy, gives me smiles, and we try to shoulder on...paying it forward.

But, and there's always a but...I'm working just as hard, trying to provide a happy home to come home to. Boy is entering the "terrible two" already where he is testing me at everything, dramatically throwing himself on the floor and wailing if I don't give in. I know what this is, and we are working through it...but it's stretching me.

Over the years, I have learned to turn to Beloved, that he always catches me, makes sense of things that I'm too frustrated to see clearly. I haven't stopped that, but these last few weeks, I've ached and debated about it...am I crowding him? Is my voice too whiny? Why can't I give him some downtime? How dare I need him to be my Master as well?

We made some time right before he left on his trip to make love, but we haven't played since club...maybe the disappointment of that night is weighing in or maybe it's just plain exhaustion. It's hard to tell. But I've been wishing...craving...more.

Of course, there's a problem, or it wouldn't be interesting, right? I'm still trapped in ugly social "norms" that I'm afraid of breaking. That damnable "good girl" image doesn't fit with begging to be tied up and spanked or pleading to suckle Beloved's cock or asking sweetly to be fucked ruthlessly and hard or admitting that the bi-side of me is driving me crazy. I'm okay (mostly) with wanting it, I can even manage to type it out, but verbalizing it? uh-uh...not gonna happen!

Instead, I fall into the "super-subtle" mode. I buy instruments of pleasure and torture. How else would you interpret a purchase of chains, paddles, dusters, clamps, and more? Isn't it obvious what I want?

No? Okay, I'll write a story or two. Something that touches my desire to be...used, shared, loved, claimed. Something that CLEARLY shows that sharing me is a way of binding me to him. And when that backfires and Beloved asks the hard question straight out, Is this a request? Or is it more of a show of your feelings in our relationship?"

I fumble the answer. I hint on the edges that maybe, please, can you read my mind and guess what I want? Don't make me SAY it...I end up blushing and flustered and stammering...but oh please....??? Does Master want to have me beg? a laundry list of my dark desires? I fire back with bratty indignence that he can't combat over a 1000 miles away. Except that he can...

Beloved: "yes, to begging sometimes; a laundy list is not necessary. That's part of the joy of possessing you...sometimes you will be Taken, others you will be forced to Beg."
girl: "I guess I'm confused...mostly because I'm not sure exactly what I'm begging for."
Beloved: "I enjoy both the forthright nature of your asking for sexual activities and the discomfiture it causes. It's difficult for you sometimes I know, Thats part of being my pet."
girl: "I think I ought to let you go...I'm feeling defensive."
Beloved: "ok, then putting down your collar for a min before we do. I realize that you have been left on the sideline for the last couple of weeks...if you need then you MUST communicate that need. As Master, I like you to ask because it does push your boundaries, I like that I get some clues as to the kinds of ways I can serve you from the top. Plus i find it HOT."
girl: "you like me blushing and stammering?"
Beloved: "YEAH!"
girl: "you have me all over the place...crying, laughing, feeling shy. all in like 20 minutes. How to you DO that to me???"
Beloved: "It's called LOVE best drug in the world..."

Yes...yes it IS love. And I love him more than ever, because he pushes me, gently, firmly...

But even now, I still haven't found the voice that will speak my desires.

Storytime

Occasionally I write erotica. I used to write a lot more, but between Boy and Beloved, I don't usually find enough downtime to put my thoughts into words. Beloved is away on business this week, and last night I thought about an early bedtime, couldn't get to sleep, and so rolled over and began to write. ..

I Belong to Beloved

I'd known him for a while, how we met was forgotten. Maybe it was craigslist or maybe it was an actual event where we'd exchanged e-mail addresses. We had a strange relationship...vicarious stories of my activities with Beloved, occasional sexy pictures. All of this had created an allure too strong for him. He'd begged to be made a part of it...and Beloved had consented to meeting. And that's how we came to be waiting for him in the club, tea for three already served when he arrived. Tall, taller than both of us, wiry, bald. And nervous. Couldn't look Beloved in the eye as I poured the tea. Beloved obviously enjoyed his discomfiture. I wasn't entirely relaxed, but I wasn't going to show either of them that fact.

Somehow, we all passed whatever tests we'd set for each other, and before any of us were quite sure how, we were in the room. Beloved took control. "You. Sit there. You can do what you like, as long as you keep quiet, and don't interfere."

He took the chair, placing it near the bench.

"Too near. I need space. Move back about three feet."

He moved the chair, and I busied myself with removing my clothes, suddenly anxious and nervous about the scene. Beloved drew near to me and began to show me off...slowly and methodically, turning me this way and that to display to him the body he'd previously only seen on a screen. To mirror my state, he removed his clothes, and sat back in the chair, cock swaying, hardened by the sight before him. Deliberately, Beloved secured cuffs on my wrists and ankles.

Naked and cuffed, Beloved turned me towards him, running his hands across breasts, midriff and down between my legs. He and I locked eye contact. "Look", I wanted to say. "Watch what I let my Beloved do to me. See how much of me he has." But no words would come.

Beloved turned me around and bent me over the bench, snapping the cuffs to the bench, making me vulnerable...helpless. I wanted to narrate the scene. "Do you see the trust I have? Do you understand what it is I am giving you?" Instead I bite my lip, listening to Beloved move around, opening our toybag and laying out the tools of my submission. The beautiful, soft brown flogger. The bamboo spoons. The paddle. I hear a match strike and I know Beloved has lit the body candle, already thinking ahead to the end of the game. Turning my head, I can just see him, gauging his reaction at this unexpected (to him) development, I could see his hand slowly pumping his cock, his eyes wide open.

Beloved started as we always do, his hands tightening almost brutally on my shoulders, squeezing the tension from them. Slowly, Beloved worked his hands down over my back, his warm touch soothing and loving, caressing my buttocks and warming me. "Are you ready, pet?" Beloved's strong voice broke my daydream. "I am ready for you, Master," I whispered, trying not to flinch just yet. With one hand still resting on my lower back, Beloved began with a spanking...firm, hard, stinging. He switched to the flogger, gently flicking the tips of the lash against me, gradually building intensity until he was moving around the bench. Swinging and whipping shoulders, upper back and buttocks, seeing the flesh yield and discolor under the blows, going pink and mottled. Sometimes, a stroke would land with the tails separated, like a claw striking, then run back. Sometimes, gathered together, striking with speed, a jerk and a groan would escape my lips. And, Beloved's favorite of all, precisely aimed flicks down between legs and striking nether lips, eliciting a startled yelp from me.

Pausing, Beloved caressed my burning skin, whispering his pride and joy in my acceptance. I heard the clack of the spoons, and whimpered softly. The cupped spoon sounded loud and brutal, but really didn't hurt much at all. It was more for show, and I knew it, but he didn't. Tossing my head, trying to get the hair out of my eyes, I could see a touch of concern in his smitten gaze. Twenty smacks of the spoon, and I knew what the hesitation meant. Even bracing for it, the first smack of the paddle made me gasp and cry out. Beloved leaned over me, his fingers dancing over my shoulders. "Good girl....let it go..."

And when the paddle landed again, I cried, bucking uselessly against my bonds. Again and again, the paddle fell. I was on fire and felt a breath away from flight. I didn't quite comprehend Beloved's movement as he unsnapped the cuffs. Beloved's strong arms pulled my shoulders up, and he practically lifted me off the bench, laying me on the carpet at his feet. I looked up.
He was still sitting there, cock hard and ready. Resolved to show his ownership of events, Beloved threw him a condom.

"Here. Put this on and fuck her."

As he struggled with foil and latex, Beloved turned brushed the hair from my face, searching my eyes for...what? I was resolved. I had asked for this, and now, I submitted to Beloved's agreement. Certain that I was okay, Beloved withdrew as he climbed atop me, spreading my legs. The moment of penetration was clear from his grunt, my groan, and then the chronology was lost in a flurry of feral dance, smell and sound.

I was close – the sting of the paddle and the release into tears is almost enough by itself, sometimes. Now, there was the complication of an unfamiliar cock – and I fell back into myself. He was really fucking me, and fucking me well, but I couldn't lose myself. I clenched his cock tightly and moved into that characteristic arching, thrashing and gasping. He wasn't slow to come then, pulling out when it all came too much, ripping the condom off and sending a perfect arc of fragrant come through the air before splashing hotly across my breasts. Another jerk, another arc, and again, and soon my belly and pubis carried the same sheen, his attempt to mark me as his.

But, to no avail. As he staggered back away from me, Beloved was ready to take his place, and with the same lack of preliminaries. Subjecting me to another round, hard, urgent and earnest, familiar. I could feel the rush of tears, of love, of submission, grateful to be Beloved's even while I carried another man's scent. I reached up, my hands pulling Beloved down, my pussy gripping his hard cock, my lips searching for sweetness, my eyes lost in the intensity of Beloved's gaze, urging me on to fly. And in a moment, I let go, soaring and tumbling, coming and crying Beloved's name.

Afterwards, lying, intertwined, pressed together, slick and gasping for breath, we both realized we were alone, together. Unnoticed by us, he'd gone. He'd understood. He may be allowed to fuck me, but he couldn't have me. I belong to Beloved.

Reality rarely lives up to fantasy

Well, I promised to update you about that interview. It was about what I expected, really. How did I get involved? What do we do? Is there a balance of interest from men and women?

I went looking for a poly group online a couple of months ago, and happened to find this one was meeting at a restaurant just a few blocks from my house. I walked over with the baby, had dessert, talked with people, and really liked the group. Last December, our organizer stepped down, and I stepped up. The poly group is family-friendly. We get together for movie nights, swimming parties, munches. Kids are usually present. We're not sex-fiends looking for hookups...instead we are pretty normal folks looking for other open-minded folks. I'd guess the average age represented was mid-40s, and there are more men than women at the events...

I don't think that was what she was looking for. The interview was barely 10 minutes long, and from the tone of voice, I sincerely doubt my responses will be a part of the final article. oh well. It was still fun to be asked!

Take a minute on Wedneday, March 19th

On Wednesday, March 19th at 7 PM join people of around the country for a Candle Light Vigil on the 5th Anniversary of the Iraq Invasion. Take five minutes for silence and prayer to bring an end to the deadly conflict in Iraq. Honor the 3,987 soldiers and 89,605 Iraqi Civilians that have died as well as the 29,314 soldiers wounded since 2003.

"A small group of thoughtful people could change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has." ~Margaret Mead

Words of wisdom

"When a couple become Master and submissive together, it is a growing together. The Dom already cares deeply for his sub, and the sub wants desperately to please the Dom. Eventually that overcomes most obstacles. Being emotionally disturbed over a request or situation only increases the mental barrier that is causing the problem to begin with.

As always, life is a learning process, from the day we are born until we die. There will always be things that we have to work on, and that does not change when a couple enters a M/s relationship. If Dom and sub work together, both wanting ultimately to fulfill themselves, it usually works out.

So you win both ways. And when the submissive surrenders fully, you win even more completely, because you do so, knowing that your love is not based on your submission, but only enhanced by it."

~ Trainer of submissives

Pixie goes public

Okay, so here is an outrageously funny phenomenon. Dear sweet Pixie has been asked to do an interview with Penthouse magazine.

*laughs*

No, I'm serious! Author Rachel Kramer Bussel contacted me through one of my online groups. She is writing an article for Penthouse magazine about open relationships and wanted to see if she could interview me about my poly group...who attends, what the protocol is, whether people attend with the intention of meeting new partners, and just generally what it's all about.

My hesitation is three-fold.

1) It's Penthouse. *sigh* I'm wishing it were Playboy since there's at least the joke that people "read the articles" in Playboy...I just don't think Penthouse has much READERship, ya know? Hey, if that floats your boat, fine, but I prefer a little more subtlety in my porn.

2) So much of the media puts poly in a bad light...I don't want to contribute to negative thoughts about what I consider a very positive lifestyle.

3) I feel like...why *me*? I'm just a little fish, I don't know nothing...don't they want someone famous and well-known in the lifestyle???

I think I'm letting it get to my head. heh. Besides the fact that it's a sexy magazine, this has absolutely NOTHING to do with D/s, but I had to share... I'll let you know what happens.

Edit...Monday, about 1 pm on the phone. It's stupid how much I'm laughing about this.

an aspiration

Last night, Beloved told me to go take a bath, "as hot as you can stand it." Maybe it's a testament of our energy-conservation that I filled the tub without turning the cold tap on at all. Or maybe it was simply that the dishes had been done right beforehand. Whichever. It could have gone hotter....

Relaxing in the bath, he came in and sat down beside me. "So, one of the links on your blogroll is for the young lady who likes to be hurt. (He was referring to Kaya's Under His Hand) What about that appeals to you?"

whoa...weighted question! I had to think about my answer. If I wasn't very clear, I might be signing up for something I really don't want! But it's a hard question because there are so many layers to it. The reason I first started reading her blog was because the day I found it, it was a "Eureka!" kind of post. I don't remember specifically what the topic was, but something about it hit home for me.

Since then, I have been morbidly fascinated with just how much Kaya takes. There are lots of things that I find rather horrifying, but it is a stark reminder to me that it's THEIR kink, it doesn't matter what *I* think about it, my opinions aren't going to change their interests. Thus, it really shouldn't matter what others think about what Beloved and I do...it doesn't (shouldn't) matter what *they* think about it, their opinions aren't going to (shouldn't) change our interests.

I also like the community that has grown up in Kaya's blog. Entire conversations are held in the comment threads. Some of those people have linked to me, which I find incredibly flattering...like maybe, MAYBE I have a clue in the D/s bdsm whateveryouwannacallit world.

I told Beloved all of this, and he nodded. He said that the really cool thing he saw was the blunt, no-holds-barred picture they offer. No dungeon, no secret codes, no muffled language. Kaya writes in a "Here it is, and if you don't like it, Go. Away." style.

No, I'm so not begging for play that results in bloody welts or bruises that last a while. I want to be able to wear a swimsuit without worrying that someone will think I'm an abused wife. At the same time, I do see her as a role model, because she is okay with her kinks and desires and needs. That is an aspiration for me.

hard to admit

So many D/s blogs discuss orgasm denial as a training tool, a punishment, something to heighten the experience. I don't get it. To be perfectly honest, I rarely orgasm. Ever.

I actually really enjoy sex and intercourse, crave it most of the time, I just don't cum. It's taken years and years to even broach the subject with Beloved. I was afraid he'd take it personally, that it was his lacking and not mine. I also thought I was oh so very cleaver in hiding the truth. I learned muscle control and can make my pussy "quiver", and combining that with moans and pants and the "typical" orgasm look, I thought I was doing well.

Occasionally, Beloved DOES force me over the edge, and I fly! It's amazing and fulfilling and beyond words! But USUALLY, when I see that edge coming, I deliberately stop myself. I can't help it...it just is instinct to hold on.

I'm not sure when Beloved caught on or how long he's allowed me to think I was fooling him. It's only been in a few dropped comments here and there that I've realized he knows.

You know that sinking, embarrassed, FAILURE feeling? yeah...

I've been trying to understand what happens in my head for a long time and putting it into words is really hard, so if this doesn't make sense, it's still a work in progress.

My introduction to sex...my first time...was at a young age and was violent and involuntary. I didn't tell anyone about it for a decade, so it went largely undigested. Now...? Now, I think that there is some part of me that is afraid of cumming...that by letting go and enjoying sex that much will condone the rapists.

But I like sex. I adore pleasuring my partner. I am often content to forego sexual pleasure...one of our favorite exchanges is his giving a deep, nearly painful backrub while I suckle his cock. I'll give Beloved a blowjob to help him relax before bed and not expect anything in return.

When we do have sex...it feels wonderfully good, but I don't have the amazing release. I very rarely lose myself in the moment. Sometimes I'll see the edge coming, and I'll want it, but just in that realization, I catch myself and refocus, stopping myself from that climax.

And if the focus is me? That's almost torture! There was one morning that Beloved restrained me, blindfolded me, pleasured me...and left for a bit. When he returned, he had HalDer with him. He whispered that he was going to leave me with HalDer...I'll admit I loved it...it was fulfilling a fantasy of being given to another Dom...and being with HalDer, nestling close with him, was really special. But as a receiver? *whimpers* As hard as it is to cum in intercourse, it's much much harder when receiving oral because then it's all about me. When HalDer did release me, I rather insistently "dommed" him into accepting a blowjob. The result was the last part of the morning WASN'T about me...and that made it okay.

I'd like to say that it's my true nature, to put others before myself in sex, to not lose myself in sex, to be ready to fetch a warm cloth to clean up, to not cum... I'd like to say that I have control over this.

But I don't.

The other night, Beloved and I were talking about what happened at the club last time, why I couldn't give in, let go. Beloved said that I am capable of bottling an incredible about of emotional energy, and that he will "chop the mountain down". The D/s play is a part of that. He is offering me freedom, and I'm scared.

struggling to put it all into words

On Saturday, Beloved and I went to the club. The trip was really the culmination of a month of communication with Sir R and his pet Youko, and I was really anxious about it Saturday morning. So much so that Beloved had to assign me clear, specific tasks twice to keep me from the edge of panic. And I still forgot to pack his tea...

We dropped Boy off with my parents and meandered the zoo with them for a bit. It was a nice distraction and the new buildings at Lincoln Park Zoo are incredible! After about two hours, we were all cold and ready to go...we kissed Boy goodbye and tucked him safe into the carseat in "Grumpy's" car...

The first thing Beloved said to me once we were in the car was

"Put your collar on, girl."

I could feel my stomach drop and bit my lip before pulling my collar out of my pocket and answering with a meek, "Yes Sir."

We stopped at Walgreens and got some tea. Arriving at the club at 5:10, we walked in right before Sir Redwing and Youko did, so we all met at the door. Despite being the primary contact, I was suddenly feeling very shy. We hugged hellos and then I darted off to put our coats away. Beloved sent me to fetch him a drink and then I joined the three of them in the lounge, Youko and me kneeling at our Masters' feet. Beloved and Sir were soon engaged in discussion and Youko and I warmed to each other, asking the first casual questions and then growing more bold about lifestyle preferences and toys.

About five minutes to 6, we went into the presentation room for Lady Di and Leather Matt's discussion on "Foot, Shoe, and Boot Worship – A Primer". Overall, the lecture was 1:45 of disappointment. I have no doubt that the two presenters have a deep and honest fetish for women's boots and *some* of the boot care suggestions were helpful, but overall? Very little on foot fetishes, nothing for the female sub, nothing for raw leather (if it wasn't smooth and shiny forget it...and Beloved's boots are not the patent leather kind). The result was more of a presentation on THEIR likes and then an awkward "demo" of Leather Matt licking Lady Di's boots...

Being seated on the floor in the front row, Youko and I got a very upclose and personal view of a man's ass in a thong and buttless chaps. ummm...well, I know there's a snap between the thong and the cock-pouch now...

Afterwards, the four of us when to a delightful Thai dinner and chuckled about the presentation. No one seemed to have gotten anything from it. oh well. Discussion turned to more personal things...how long has we been together and in M/s, was it 24/7, what were the training routines, etc. By the end of the meal, Youko and I had gotten comfortable and maybe the teeniest bit flippant... Sir Redwing and Beloved ended that with the comment that "We should return to the club and let the girls taste the floggers." It was a very quiet ride back to the club...

I went and changed into my club clothes...a tiny sweater top that barely covered my breasts and was held closed with three buttons at the cleavage, a straight black shirt, garters and stockings, and black boots that came up to my knee and have a 3" heel. I returned to the lounge and made Beloved tea. When he was done, Youko and I were put on leashes and our Masters wandered the club, taking in the four scenes in progress.

I was growing very unsure about the whole situation...it was a busy night at the club, and some VERY out costumes were displayed. Overall, it wasn't at all like the last time Beloved and I played at the club...this time it seemed harsh, blaring, loud. I kept my eyes downcast most of the evening.

Eventually, the smaller, semi-private room was available, and Beloved told me to fetch the toycase. I went immediately, but I was feeling light-headed and schooled my face carefully. This was the first time we had scened with anyone else, and it was a little harder because of that. Youko and I stripped to nothing, and then I was cuffed and ordered over the spanking bench, while Youko was strung up on the suspension bar...

I begged Beloved to squeeze my shoulders, to help me...he smiled and said, "Oh, I can to better than that..." and he proceeded to warm me up with an intense rubdown. Sir Redwing started in with light flogging, and it didn't look toooooo terrible...

Beloved then began to spank me. HARD. I was told to count...Beloved had told me earlier that he was going to spank me until I cried, and more. By 50 hard hand swats, I was sore but just not "there". He switched to the paddle, and that drove cries and yelps from my lips, but tears were precious few. He tried the spiky bath-brush, too, which I didn't know he'd brought. After some spankings with that, I gave in..."What the hell IS that???" Which made everyone laugh...but it was prickly and went squish...*shrug*. Beloved switched back to the spoons.

Through the doorway to my left, I could see a male sub orally pleasuring his mistress, and she was quite loud about her pleasure. It was distracting and I couldn't close her out. Somewhere else in the club a woman was getting some treatment that made her yelp in a loud, high-pitched scream. The serene music of Serenity room was overpowered by the alternative music of the lounge. I was feeling very trapped, very exposed. I felt loathing for the situation, wished it was over, was swearing in my head I'd never, ever come back to the club...

Around 120 swats, Beloved leaned over me, whispering to let it go...but I *couldn't*. He continued. At 190, I was panting and hurting, but still refusing to give in to tears. Beloved told me that on the 200th strike, I was to cry out the number (mostly, the counts had been quiet...) I felt some shame that it had gone so far...that I still hadn't been able to surrender the way Beloved wanted me to. I yelled "200!" at the top of my lungs. The blows continued...210...220...230...241...

Sir Redwing, at that point, offered up the flogger selection. All were hand-made and from what I could see, very nice. Beloved told me I didn't have to count the swings with the floggers and began with a wide-strapped soft leather flogger. It was actually pretty wonderful after the paddle. More like a caress than the whipping I was expecting. At first. The swings got harder...and on my already reddened ass, it was pretty stingy. Sir Redwing mentioned casually that if Beloved wanted to try the threaded flogger, he should do it soon... That made me moan in agony. Youko had said something about that one being the only one she'd ever marked from. Beloved picked it up and gave a few swings...OUCH! The thing BITES and the leather treads (I'd guess they were about 5cm wide, 18" long, and a lot of them) landed on my sides and thighs as well as my butt and back. I thought it would never end, but it did. He returned to the softer flogger, this time aiming a few swings at my bare pussy...I hid my face in embarrassment.

Beloved switched back to his hand and asked if I was ready for more. Whimpering, I responded, "Yes Master, I'm ready for more..." He told me to begin my count again...at one. I came close to tears just at his words...but the first "SMACK" resolved me. I don't remember if Beloved changed up toys, but we reached 100 again with no tears. Beloved caressed my pussy and butt for a while, and then asked if I was ready for more. "Yes Master, I'm ready for more..." It was HARD, it HURT, and still, I was trapped in myself, too aware of all the others to cry, too proud to surrender.

Sir Redwing moved the a ottoman and chained Youko very close to me...I so wanted to reach out and stroke her hair...to have a connection... I wasn't even sure if the restraint had enough give to do so, I wanted to try...but I didn't know if it would be alright.

Beloved stopped at 50, caressing me and rubbing me out. He poured hot massage oil on my raw skin, making me jump, and then rubbed the soothing sweetness in. It felt so good...but inside I was miserable. I hadn't reached tears. I hadn't surrendered. I hadn't obeyed. I felt badly enough to actually ASK if we were finished. I could hear the surprise in Beloved's voice when he said, "Yes...unless you want more." I answered that if he wished it, I would take more...but I didn't think I could give him tears. He brushed my hair and whispered that he knew that...it was fine, and we were done.

Releasing me from the bench, Beloved handed me my jammies and told me to change...I started to turn, thought I ought to clean the bench, and reached for the spray bottle. Beloved shook his head, no...he'd take care of that. The dressing area was occupied, so I returned to the room, thinking I'd just change there. Beloved ordered, "Preen."

I dropped my pants on the floor immediately, arms up, right foot up on the toes, and I managed the ghost of a smile. I could see out both doorways, and I saw Beloved and Sir Redwing as well as others eye me appreciatively.... The flutter of surprise brought a blush to my cheeks. "Relax." I did, and pulled on my jammies, trying to focus, distract myself from the situation.

When everything was cleaned up, we went and sat in the Catacombs and talked a little. Well, I tried to. I felt spent. Instead I focused on cleaning Beloved's boots (we brought saddle soap and rags for the purpose; no tongue job, thankfully). The Masters decided to check out the other scenes... Two girls were getting blistering attentions in the other room, and someone was in a partial suspension...I felt slightly sickened. They were giving so much more than I had...

Sir Redwing put Youko in the cage, and I asked Beloved permission to go be quiet. He nodded, and I went and curled up tightly in Catacombs, trying to sort out what was going on in my head. I was very internal when Beloved came to me and said it was time to go.

I felt unfulfilled, and didn't want to leave that way. Kneeling up, I began playfully kissing and biting Beloved, deep and sensually on the lips, light and teasing on the neck. I caressed his hardening cock through his pants, my eyes asking to take it further. He gave in and leaning against the spanking bench I'd been strapped to not an hour earlier, I licked and teased and sucked him to orgasm, swallowing his cum. I felt much better about the evening all the sudden. It was going to be alright.

There were things that had to be gathered, goodbyes to be said. Sir Redwing presented Beloved with a beautiful soft leather flogger to keep (!)...



I hugged Youko tightly ("WOW! You have a lot of strength for such a little person.") Mistress Carol asked if I had enjoyed the evening, and I told her honestly to ask me in the morning. She laughed and said that she often got love letters a few days afterwards...

I apologized on the ride home for not giving in, for not surrendering. Beloved shook his head, saying that he'd had a hard time focusing as well. He said that he'd stopped because he felt I was more aligned, more insync and that had been his true goal. I didn't feel that way...I wasn't sure what I felt at that point, but slowly something was sinking in.

Beloved and I got to bed finally at 4 am...I woke up before the alarm (which was at an obscene 8:30 am because of other engagements). I laid there, in the quiet, thinking about the night before. When Beloved woke and rolled over, I smiled.

completely selfish, but...

I have a fantasy that is totally, completely selfish. I want a day...one, whole, day...of quiet, with zero responsibilities and nothing I "ought to be doing" to make me feel guilty about it.

Realistically speaking, it is impossible. Even when Beloved ties me to the bed, takes Boy, and leaves me to rest all day (yes, he's done that, and it was pretty wonderful), there's still this nagging voice in the back of my head about the laundry, groceries, cleaning...

We're exploring an interesting option..."Jenni" is a man who wishes to experience cross-dressing and is willing to exchange (or include) the opportunity with cleaning the house. huh. No touching, no hanky-panky...all I have to do is store "her" clothes and be around twice a month for the adventure. Beloved is agreeable, and has even given me help with sizings so I can shop for Jenni (she's given me $300 to outfit her). Which takes the serious cleaning off my hands...if it works out...

But really...If the ALL of the minor, everyday distractions were removed, I'd find SOMETHING to worry about. It's just the way I am. I. Don't. Relax. I keep hoping that the D/s will teach me that elusive state...

Someone Else is in control. Someone Else will define the priorities. Someone Else will worry. All I have to do is do as I'm told...and ignore the voices in my head. *sigh*

Body Image Bandwagon

I was reading through Dragonmage's blog and then Vixen's blog about body images. I started to comment and realized it really was more of a post...so....

*soft sigh* Beloved has scolded me countless times about body image...and yet my fears reared again when he casually mentioned my being naked at the club. *gulp*

I am 5'4", 180 lb, 38DD, waist at 34", hips at 45".

This summer, Beloved invented the command "Preen" - arms up, wrists crossed, head turned slightly to the side, weight shifted to one hip. When he first used it in the presence of HalDer, I really struggled with being objectified. That's not a turn-on to me. I was embarrassed and shy and terrified at the thought of being found wanting.

Both Doms set me straight. I wasn't preening as an object...I was preening that they might enjoy, admire, and comment on my beauty. I think THAT flustered me more than being objectified (which, of course, delighted them).



MOST of the time, I'm pretty happy with how much I've gotten my body back. I gave birth only 16 months ago, and I weigh LESS now than when I got pregnant. I'm still breastfeeding, so my big breasts really show off the hourglass waist. I have little hope about losing the last of my pudge...a C-section cut through muscle means it's really REALLY hard to get those muscles to tone up they way they used to...

But, of course, the last time we were at the club there was a plastic Barbie type...one who was paraded in a leather harness, who was bronzed from the tanning salon, had perky but fake tits, and drew comments aplenty. Beloved shrugged, saying (later, to me)that it was obviously fake and wondered what sacrifices were made for simple appearances. Still, it's really hard to hold my natural body to that kind of comparison, you know?

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Not the media industry, not even in our own head (although our attitude conveys a lot!). Beauty is in the grace and pleasure I take in submitting to Beloved's wishes that I preen for whomever he chooses to share me with...plastic Barbie types included. I only hope that I can be as beautiful in my own head as I am in Beloved's eyes.

Long week takes it's toll...

Beloved put in 76 hours at the office last week...no, that doesn't include the commute. For that reason, there's really nothing interesting to say...

although I was a bit uppity and teased about needing a spanking or such on Sunday. Instead, Beloved entertained Boy upstairs while I cleaned the kitchen topless. I'm still trying to address the clutter and crap (piles for donation, piles for consignment, piles to put away), but there's some progress....One day, Boy-free, and I would have this place ship-shape!

*sigh*