down the rabbit hole

Needs

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 01:56:00 +0000

I do not write here much anymore. I'm not sure why, but I am sure there are several reasons. One of them is I began to feel I kept writing the some thing, over and over. I don't know why that mattered to me. Maybe I began writing for an audience other than J.Perhaps I worried that J would begin to doubt my sincerity after posting a similar theme, over and over.

Before I was in a relationship (and for some time after we met), I would search and read other blogs. Trying to determine what I wanted and how to be in a D/s relationship. I did learn things, both things I wanted and things I did not. I was trying to find myself. Now, I find myself in my own archives. I find myself in his control. I find myself in my needs and desires. For a long time, I thought it was wrong to need someone, to rely on them. I don't know if it is wrong or not, but I need J. I need him every minute of every day. He dwells in my mind and I interact with him constantly. I think of him and I hear his voice. I recall him and feel his touch and his taste. I converse with him, I laugh with him, I complain to him. I do all these things on a personal level too, but I do them in my mind when he is not with me. When life is rough and cold and tiring, I cocoon myself in him. I crawl inside of him in my mind and I lock the rest of the world out.

That is what his control is to me. My cocoon. Whether he controls me with his words or pleasure or pain, it allows me to shut out the rest of the world. I am in paradise when my whole world consists of him. When I am wrapped tightly inside of him, I am safe and sensual and content. It is where I need to be. It is everything I desire. It is heaven.

Sometimes, I get caught up in the rest of the world and I am lost. But then he touches me, with a note or a call or a touch, and I am rescued, once again. It makes me want to give him more and more, because the more I surrender, the safer I am in my cocoon.

It seems I've been rewired (either that or I've just completely lost my mind).

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 04:55:00 +0000

Christmas came early for me this year, or maybe I should say that Hanukkah came right on time. J arrived on Tuesday morning and was able to spend a couple of days with me. It was wonderful and glorious for me, I had missed him so much and was finding it difficult to get into the holiday spirit. Our time together is sacred to me. It is a mix of sexual, spiritual, affirming and fun. While he was here, we talked, played, shopped, cooked and ate. We lit the first candle of the menorah, our first holiday together. We just lived and loved together.

Our play was not as intense as it has been in the past. I have been having a little bit of physical difficulties and, as much as I did not want it to effect this, it did. J was loving and understanding and did push me, but did not take me too far. He is always gentle and caring with me. What did occur was strange and beyond my comprehension. First, he pushed me and played with me to climax, over and over and over. He had me climax when I was certain I could not possibly cum again. I was utterly and completely sensitized. The gentlest touch, his breath on my skin, his voice, all had me quivering and pulsating. He held me close and made me safe and started it all again. I cannot even describe the feeling of innumerable orgasms exploding in my body and my mind. Constant waves of ecstasy and energy cresting and washing over me. Being held at that level of excitement and sexual tension, for literally hours, broke down my rationality and consciousness. It was not that I wasn't aware, but I could not coherently respond. I was pushed deep inside myself and was floating far outside myself at the same time. That is the best way I can describe it. It was then that it happened, I orgasmed in color. I saw nothing but colors, I could feel them. It was like looking at impressionist painting, but up close. It was seeing brush strokes, or pieces of colors, changing and shifting. Blues and greens turned to oranges and yellows, the colors became my emotions and my sensations. It was an amazing experience, certainly one I have never had before.

When I was finally able to speak again, I did not know how to tell J about it. However, I was able to and he understood and took it in stride. Yet it changed me, it left me euphoric in a way. I was peaceful and elated as he held me and we talked. When he started to play with me and tease me again, I was still jubilant and intoxicated by it all. He tickled me and I began laughing and I could not stop. I am normally not ticklish at all. He was so amused by my reactions, he began to play with me more. He reached over and spanked me, which brought forth gales of laughter. The more he spanked me, the more I laughed. It lasted the entire time he was here. Any time he spanked me I started laughing again. He was so amused by my reaction, he would test it out later. When I was cooking, he came up and spanked me, laughter again. When I was washing dishes, another spank and more laughter. I could not supress it or control it, it was an irrepresibly gleeful time. While each minute with him is always bliss, this was so light-hearted and exhilarating, I will never forget it. I have no idea if I will ever respond that way again or if it was simply a marvelous fluke. I love that we can laugh and cry and just be, when we are together. I love that he accepts me and loves me. He groks me and it makes me all the more his.

I am smiling as I write this, thinking of him and all the gifts he has given me. The gift of love. The gift of knowing myself. The gift of exploring my sexuality, freely and unabashedly. The gift of trust. The gift of being his. And now the gift of laughter and jubilation.

Tis the Season

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 04:49:00 +0000

This has been a year. A very trying year at times. Over and over I have barely eked enough to get by, yet there has always been enough. Work has been continually draining, stressful and, at times, dangerous. My oldest son is losing his home and, in September, his father-in-law killed himself. My grandchildren have been here almost every weekend and I have tried to lavish them with love and stability. I have been having some health problems, ongoing since June, and I still do not have a definite diagnosis. I now have a new doctor, who seems very knowledgeable, forthright and is working hard on finding out the problem. The good news is that my cancer has not returned. The bad news is that I still do not know what is wrong with me. The best news is that J has been my strength, my support and my confident. He has listened to me vent and cry. He has been understanding and loving. I love him and am devoted to him more than I can express in this post.

Despite all the bad and worrisome things that have occurred, I cannot say it has been a bad year. I have many things to be thankful for. I can honestly say that something good has come out of every bad thing. And through it all, my love for J has grown and grown. We have become closer and have shared even more with each other. With my love for him, my desire for him has also grown. I anticipate each visit from him as if it were the first. Only more so, because I know how wonderful it will be, how much he fulfills me and satisfies me, how perfect just sitting with him and talking is and how passionate making love with him is. It has been over a month since he has been here and tomorrow he will be here again. I have a million things to do and I am sitting here writing this, because he told me to. That is not a bad thing. His assignments, his directives capture my attention and heighten my anticipation. They let me know I am his. That is the one constant, reassuring, comforting thing in my life...I am his pet. Knowing I will be with him in less than 12 hours, warms me, gladdens me and fills me with desire. I cannot wait to feel his mouth on mine, his hands on me, his arms around me. I want to hold him, taste him, please him and surrender to him. I crave him and hunger for him. I long for his fist in my hair and his cock in my mouth. I long for the feeling I get each time I am with him. The feeling of being overwhelmed and absorbed and taken.

He has been teasing and playful and suggestive each time we have talked. It has made me floaty and very submissive feeling. Wanting to sate his desires, to give him all that he asks for, to be completely and wholly his. It is not even the marks or the control or the climaxes that I yearn for, it is his domination. Feeling small and safe and completely open and exposed. It is also being his slut and his pet. I salivate thinking about licking him, bathing him with my tongue. I hunger for the taste and feel of his skin, of his cock, of his balls. I shiver thinking of burying my face in him, sucking and gagging on his cock, licking and savoring his balls, rimming and probbing his ass. Feeling his hand on my head as he thrusts into my mouth. Wanting to drink his cum and his piss. I need his imprint upon me, whether it be physical marks from his belt or the cane or the marks on my soul that come from the completeness of my surrender. From knowing I am entirely his. Tis the season.

I am his pet, always

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 01:39:00 +0000

In the four and a half years that J and I have shared what we do, the relationship has grown and evolved. Initially, it was my exploration into D/s and my first relationship in a long time. He reawakened passion and desire in me. He afforded me healing and a safe realization and acceptance of a part of me I had denied and suppressed. It was more than that, we shared interests and passion for many things, both sexual and non-sexual. We shared a mutual respect for our professional lives and a mutual admiration for who we both were. We had an instant connection and understanding of each other. I felt I had known him my whole life. I was consumed by him, consumed by lust, comsumed by my wish to submit, consumed by my need to please him and serve him. I wanted to be his in every way. I read endlessly on the internet, trying to define submission and learn to be the best submissive I could. He was patient and diligent. He explored me, my desires, my fears. He planted seeds of fantasies and outlined scenarios. He encouraged me, he took me farther than I ever imagined I could go. He uncovered and discovered me, he knew me.

My appetite, attraction and longing for him have never cooled or abated. Yet our relationship has become more integrated, more complete, more consummate. Although, distance separates us and time limits us, we are closer and more devoted to each other than most couples in a 24/7 relationship. He is such an integral part of my life. When we are together, it seems time stands still. When we are apart, we talk, write and share. I feel his presence and his support always. I used to wonder if the newness, the excitement would wear off and we would become more mundane, more of a "old married couple". While things may not be as urgent as they once were, they are still as fervent as ever. At times, life may encroach on our play, conversations and relationship, but it only strengthens us. The depth of our love and our commitment has grown and continues to do so. We have become more transparent, more comfortable, more familiar. I am no longer inclined to define us and my submission through other's experiences or expectations. I am comfrotable with what we have defined for ourselves. Yet the dynamic still exists and I am his. I am his pet, he is in charge. I recognize his authority and it comforts me and fulfills me.

Last night, while we were talking, he was quite playful and teasing. We both are anticipating time together next week. We both miss each other and want each other greatly. He mentioned a "no touching" policy. In the past, there were times he imposed a "no touching" policy on me before his visits. I was not to touch myself or cum until he was here. He teased me with the idea for awhile and then ultimately told me to "have fun", because I may not have that chance later. His last words were, "...and write about it". So I am.

We are not together often enough, so I do masturbate frequently. Much to my dismay, this self-pleasuring is not always as pleasurable as it used to be. It lacks his presence and direction. I must focus on him and recall his touches, his voice and his nearness to cum. My solitary orgasms are seldom as explosive or prolonged as my clomaxes that are initiated by him. Last night, I climbed into bed and began to think of him. I imagined him next to me, pressed against me, touching me. I imagined his cock in my mouth. I imagined his hands on me. I imagined his voice telling me waht to do and what he was going to do. My hands were his hands. touching, rubbing, pinching and prodding. I felt him watching me, exploring me, controlling me. The heat blossomed between my legs, wetness leaked from me. I could smell the earthy scent of lust and sex. My hips rocked and reached up for him. I felt his breath in my ear and his body pressed against mine. I felt my climax swelling inside of my belly. I felt my cunt begin to twitch. I pushed my vibrator against my clit and heard his voice tell me to "cum now". My back arched and my hips thrust and my orgasm exploded inside of me. I felt him holding me tightly, as his fingers rubbed and teased my clit. My body was tight, like a bow string and my cunt pulsated and contracted, as if searching for him, needing to be filled. I heard my ragged breathing and low, gutteral, animal type noises coming from my mouth. Waves of electricity coursed through my body, I felt it rise up my spine and escape through the top of my head. I was left limp and quivering and spent, but still wanting and needing him. I need him to quench me, push me, devour me, fill me. My body is his instrument to use and to play and to compel.

Against all odds

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 03:27:00 +0000

This has been a particularly difficult few months for both J and I. Nothing serious really, but lots of minor irritations. I lived each day in anticipation of my next conversation with him. Hearing from him, even just a quick "touching base" call, strengthens, affirms and renews me. I am crazy, mad, in love with this man.

It astounds me how much we can pack into a short conversation. A recap of our days, political commentary, venting about work, friends, family and professing our love and desire for each other. During one of his calls, he told me how happy he was to have me in his life. He said he is always amazed that we found each other, considering the odds of that happening were incredibly slim. I knew what he meant, we lived in different cities, had different career paths, I was incredibly gun-shy of men, there were circumstances that could be viewed as obstacles for either of us becoming involved in a relationship, we were both extremely busy in our own lives and our only chance of meeting was online. Yet, I argued the point with him, because in my mind, the odds were all in our favor. Being the testosterone driven, left brained person he is, he said the odds were almost incalculable and then gave me the task of figuring it up. So this post is my response to that task.

I believe that J is my soul mate, my bashert. I view our relationship as metaphysical. I believe it originated before we were born and it will continue after our deaths. There is a synchronicity to our lives, the weaving of threads that prepared us and connected us to each other. Our destiny was there, in place, our whole lives. We were destined to meet, the plan, the circumstances were all set in place by powers greater than us. The entire Universe was conspired to bring us together. There was no chance that we would go through life without our paths crossing. Therefore, the odds were all in our favor that we would end up together. Until I actually met J, I rejected this whole concept. I eschewed the idea of soul mates and destiny. The experience made me a believer. There was an instant connection, a spark between us. He knew me, he understood me, it was inexplicable. It scared me and fascinated me at the same time. With anyone else, I would have pushed them away, retreated behind my walls and facade. Yet, I was drawn to J and completely trusted him from the beginning. He is my perfect man, my fantasy, my hero. He perseveres in the face of frustration and adversity. He honors his promises and responsibilities. He loves me, cares for me, worries about me and is strong for me. He is compassionate, passionate, intelligent and diligent. He knows what is good for me, better than I. He listens and empathises, while keeping me in check and giving me perspective. He understands my needs and desires, he sees into my thoughts, he encourages me to examine myself and explore the depths of my mind that I try to ignore.

There is no explanation for our story, our love and our relationship, other than it had to be. We were brought together by the gods, the universe, the powers that be. He was always my future, the paths that I took may have determined how and when we would meet, but nothing could have detered me from ultimately being his.

All is well with my soul

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 06:25:00 +0000

I feel an exhaustion and ache and hurt that permeates my entire being. There is a dull throbbing pain which goes clear to my soul. Too much, just too much has happened and I want to turn back the clock, turn away and pretend that everything is good and normal and this is a bad dream. Sadly, I can't. I can't take back my words at work that flew out of my mouth in a fit of fury and arrogance. I can't take back the day last week that my grandchildren's other grandparent, and the father of my son's wife, put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I can't dry their tears, because I can't dry my own. So I cry and I ache and I hope. Because there is always hope, even when things are hopeless.

When things are good and right, hope is unnecessary. There is little to hope for, because things are as they should be. It is in the midst of the storm that I cling to hope, to the trust that tomorrow will be better and the day after that and the day after that. How do you find rational words to describe an irrational act? How do you tell children that he never wanted to hurt them, when all they feel right now is hurt? How do you help children cope and heal and feel safe, when the adults are all acting worse than children? So I hug and I love and I listen. I listen to children's questions, ones that do not have a good answer. I listen to a daughter's pain and grief. I listen to a husband and a father who fears and hurts for his family. I listen to people I have only a cursory relationship with, as they look to me for words of understanding and comfort. I listen to the words of a man, who hurt so much he couldn't live another day. I listen for the voice of God, who seems so very far away. Yet, he is close and near. He is weeping with all of us, holding every broken person. He was there when the gun went off. He was there when a father-in-law discovered a bloody, bloated body. He was there when the children's world was shattered. He heard the wails of the survivors at the funeral.
I talk and reassure and give the right responses, the ones I learned in my counseling classes. They seem so hollow and inadequate. I feel like a fraud. They all turn to me for strength and for answers and I am short on both. I move forward as I am mired at the same time. I wait on the Lord, on the healing, on the wisdom. Yet, even as I wait, I keep taking one step at a time, praying that none of them are missteps.

In the depths of my hurt and weakness the Lord sends me comfort and wisdom and love. J is my rock and my lifeline. He pulls me out of the dark and helps me find my footing on solid ground. He tells me the truth, the things I need to hear and believe. His care and concern are humbling. His love is strengthening. He is a voice of reason, when I think reason does not exist. Scripture and poetry speak to my heart and express the feelings I cannot put into words. A friend messages me, the truest words I can imagine, given the situation. She will never know how her words are a salve to my soul. "It is senseless to us, and the only thing that made sense to him, I think that was the only thing he could see. He would never want to cause such pain for all of you. I just believe he could see nothing else. I pray he may now truly rest in the peace. Thank you for your friendship and trust. You are such a strong women and I am blessed to know you." It makes me wonder how I am a blessing. I do not feel strong or good or wise.

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

I think of God's people. I think of the Jews coming out of Egypt, moving forward on their faith in the Lord's promise. I think of the Jews in the death camps, clinging to their faith and God's promises. How can anyone have faith or hold onto traditions after something like that? Yet the traditions, the ritual, are comforting, familiar and hopeful. I feel a kinship and an understanding. I feel their hope, it sustains me. So, I take up holidays that are not mine, not part of my heritage. I will embrace this new year, a fresh start. I pray for mercy to be shown to me over the next year. I will hope for better times. I am a wild branch that has been grafted in. I am an adopted child, grateful for the grace and love.

Even in pain, I am so greatly blessed. I am blessed by J. I am blessed by good friends' words. I am blessed by my faith. I am blessed by those broken survivors in the wake of a tragedy. For he is compassionate and gracious and slow to anger and abundant in loving kindness and truth.

Yahrtzeit

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 18 Sep 2011 04:26:00 +0000

Psalm 91

¹He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
²I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
³Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
⁴He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
⁵Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
⁶Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
⁷A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
⁸Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
⁹Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;
¹⁰There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
¹¹For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
¹²They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
¹³Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.
¹⁴Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.
¹⁵He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
¹⁶With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.

What a tumultuous year this has been. I have not mentioned it previously, but a year ago today, J's brother died, suddenly and unexpectedly. There is much I could say about that event and the effects of it, but I am only going to write about my personal perspective on it. I would never want to infringe on J's grief and privacy by expounding upon other details here.

My relationship with J is like nothing I have experienced before. It transcends the sexual, emotional and physical. It is spiritual for me. I struggle with this classification at times, a classification by my own defining. Though I deeply feel the spiritual connection between us, it seems a bit blasphemous to call it that. At least in terms of what I mean by it. J's significance to me, and his influence on me, is a personification of my Supreme Being. It is not that I think he is perfect, though he is perfect for me. I think I have a realistic view of him, I am aware of his flaws and his frustrations. I also can honestly say that he offers me safety, security, acceptance and the most perfect love that a human being can offer.

I offer the Psalm above, as a prayer for J and his brother. Yet, when I read the words, they remind me of J. He is a refuge for me. He has delivered me from the bondage of my past. He comforts me in many ways. I feel him in me and all around me, even when we are apart. Serving him and pleasing him delights me and fulfills me. He has taught me so much about myself and the world around me. He inspires me to be a better person and to improve myself for service to him. This comparison, between J and G_d. is one I have struggled with in the past, but one I have found comfort in. It isn't a confusion on my part or a way of deifying J. It helps me to honor him and to humble myself in service to him. It defines my love and respect for him. He will always be a part of me, we are connected on a higher plane than space and time. He has, somehow, always been a part of me and we were destined to share what we do. I am grateful for that, it is a comfort to me. I am honored to have this amazing man in my life. I am blessed to experience the depths of awareness that he gives to me. I acknowledge the rarity of a love like ours.

The Change and the Constant

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 16:45:00 +0000

I do not write, because I don't know how to begin. Thoughts and images race through my head and then are gone. I cannot grab and hold them quickly enough to keep them and write them down. I am stretched and pulled in all different directions. I would like to pass the blame along, but I can only blame myself. The only constant, focused thought in my life anymore is J. My need, my desire, my adoration, my love and my submission for him is always there and always defined. However, even that I do not execute very well anymore.

I am spread thin, trying to do to much for too many. My energies and efforts are spread so thin anymore, that nothing is done well, everything just slips right through the fabric of my intent. Bits and pieces of me are floating so far out there I can't even reach them to pull them back in. Yet this has become the norm for me. I have accepted it too well. I am too used to the chaos and the loose ends that I have retreated into just allowing it to happen. Then I think about J, I think about how I want to be for Him, about what He deserves. I think about how good I used to be at juggling things and multi-tasking. Where has that organization gone?

I lack concentration and initiative. What came first, the chicken or the egg? I am trying to regroup, to step back and begin again. I have to take baby steps. I have to become comfortable and learn how to work with this body and mind of mine that is changing. I am figuring out how to adjust to a new endurance level and a new mind that flits and forgets. The hardest part is the fact that I have little patience with stupid people, and now I am becoming one. I ponder how I will feel and who I will be when this is all done and over with. When my hormones quit fluctuating, exactly where will they be? I am amazed to say I miss the flow of blood, which now occurs once in a blue moon. I remember how I hated it. It creates a slow burn in me when doctors attribute everything to "the change", eight years ago my cancer symptoms were written off to that. Yet I do the same thing myself. At least I do right after I wonder if I am losing my mind.

One thing that has developed, which I am not sure if it is a blessing or a curse, is I have become an empath. I hesitate to write those words, it makes me sound crazy and out of touch with reality. It has been a scary path and it took me a long time to figure it out. Sometimes, when I meet people, or speak to them or make eye contact, or even am just in the room with them, I am flooded with all of their feelings and fears and emotions. This has always happened to a certain extent, but it has blossomed and grown. I am still learning how to deal with it, control it and block it when I need to. Often it is a gift, but I work with sex offenders and the mentally ill. Sometimes the flash of awareness and insight is disturbing and frightening. All too often I want to fix what I am feeling, fix it for me and fix it for them. I am slowly applying filters and finding that, while I cannot really control it, I can control the effects on me.

J is my solace. When we are together and He puts His arms around me, I feel like He is gathering me up. He is summoning all the molecules of me that are floating all over the Universe. He is calling them all to Him and He is putting me back together. With Him I am centered, calm and protected. I am able to relax and focus. He anchors me and accepts me and guides me. I have never known trust like this, I never doubt Him or His intentions. With Him I am always safe and cared for, it makes me want to give Him everything. The funny thing is, I don't have to. How lucky and blessed and undeserving I am to have Him in my life. How happy I am to be His.

Today is my Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 02:03:00 +0000

J,

Never have I welcomed and embraced my birthday as I do now. You make me happy, you make me loved, you make me smile. Happy birthday to me, because I was made for you. You are the end of my story, because from here on out, you are part of my story. I love you.

‎"Your story is your soul. The longer you're with someone, the more you trust them, the more you're willing to tell. I believe when you find your real partner, you tell them everything until there's nothing left. Then you start from the beginning, only this time it's their story as well as yours." ~ Jonathan Carroll

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 27 Mar 2011 04:37:00 +0000

Tonight, I am quite possibly the most selfish person on the planet. I am pouty and covetous and petulant. What makes it worse is I hate that I feel this way and I can't seem to snap out of it. Intellectually, I know I am blessed and that nothing has really changed from when I felt blessed and peaceful. Knowing that doesn't lessen my feelings one bit, in fact it makes it worse. I know I am where I am supposed to be and the only thing wrong is my wanting what I cannot have. Normally, I can roll with things, I persevere and find a lesson in doing so. No one's life is perfect and no one gets everything they want, so why do I want to stomp my foot and cry and feel sorry for myself? I am tired, I have been stressed and not sleeping well. This seems to be a bad time of year for me. The past couple of years I have struggled during the first few months of the year. It is very rare for me to sink down and wallow in self pity, but that is where I am right now.

I have been fighting this for a while, but this weekend it all caught up with me and I lost the fight. It is greater than my desire for what I don't have (though that is much of it), it extends to a much broader situation as well. I look at the world, all the things happening, wars, earthquakes, certainly the crisis at the nuclear plant. It all makes me feel so empty and sad. It makes me think, is that all there is? Acknowledging the tragedies in the world are affecting me, makes my being self-centered even worse. Those situations should make me endlessly thankful for what I have. But I want things to be a little easier. I want some breathing room. I want, for one week, to have no one come to me with a problem or need. It is my fault, I attract those in need, I encourage it. My family, my friends, my clients at work, they all seek me out to complain, whine, vent or have me fix things. But now I have no resources left, financially, emotionally and physically, I am experiencing a deficit. I want to be redeemed and restored. I think of all the things I want, things I want to buy, places I want to travel. I know these are things I will never have and never do. Some of my desires are noble, many more are selfish. Either way, they are impossible. This is life, it is my life. Normally, I look around and I see those who have even less than I do. I see people suffering and in need, people who deserve better. Today, I am focusing on people who have more, people who are undeserving of what they have. People who have done nothing to earn an easy life, people who have hoards of useless things. Deep down I know it is not about deserving or entitlement, it just is. I know I cannot see in people's hearts. I know that those things and those desires will not bring happiness or contentment. I have been very happy and content with what I have and I will be again. I have to breathe and put one foot in front of the other and keep going. I have to see what I have rather than what I want.

My greatest selfish desire? I want to be with J. It is not about my love for him or my submission, it is about my need. I need to be with him. I know I am his and I know we will be together again soon. But I want him every day. I want to share with him the things that time constraints do not allow. I want what I cannot have. I curse the distance between us and the circumstances that aren't going to change. Okay, not really, I was the one who sought out someone further away. I wanted the safety of that distance, a buffer to keep them at bay and allow me to keep an emotional distance. I never contemplated falling in love, I never contemplated finding someone like J. Someone so perfectly suited for me, someone I could really submit and surrender to. I should be thankful he is not here right now, because I am unbearable and focused on what I want, not what he wants. However, I think he is the cure for what ails me. I need his help to quiet these thoughts and regain my focus. I need to submit and serve him. I need to surrender the control. In the meantime, I need to take a breath and keep wading through all of this. I need to focus on my blessings, of which he is the greatest one. I need to be still and feel his presence with me, inside me. I can always feel him with me, because I know that I am his.

My favorite thing

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 03:15:00 +0000

My favorite thing is to share life and love and laughter with you. To sit after dinner and watch your face as you tell me stories of your life. To be working in the kitchen and feel your arms wrap around me and pull me back to you. To open the door and welcome you home. To see your eyes sparkle when you laugh.

My favorite thing is everything about you. You give me courage to face each new week. You fill each week with the joy of loving you. You fill me with contentment when you are near me. You make the ordinary extraordinary. You know when to be gentle and when to be firm. You love me in a way that fills my mind, my body and my soul.

My favorite thing is to serve and submit and surrender to you. My favorite thing is when you take what you want from me. My favorite thing is when you give me more. My favorite thing is when you make me laugh. My favorite thing is when you make me cry. My favorite thing is that I am yours.

For you

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 16:28:00 +0000

I lie in bed and think of you. My hands begin to move down my body and I feel your presence all around me. Your essence surrounds me and penetrates me and I float in its comfort and safety. I sense you watching me as my hand slides down my belly to my wet flesh. My fingers part the lips and I smell my scent in the air. I begin to rub little circles around my clit. As my legs open wider and my back starts to arch, I long for your touch. I imagine your kiss that possesses me and makes my soul succumb to you. My nipples harden and ache to feel your fingertips clamp on them and flatten them until I wince. My fingers rub and dip and press. My mouth opens as a moan escapes. My cunt twitches and my whole body quivers. I think of your teeth closing on tender flesh at my neck. I feel your cock pressed against me, hard and glistening. My hips are rocking in response to you. It is urgent now, I rub faster and harder as I think of my mouth sliding over your cock. I hunger to lick your ass and your balls and feel your cock against the back of my throat. I think of your hand at my throat and my hips thrust up, searching for you. I feel your gaze bore through me and hear your voice urging me to let go and cum for you. My head tilts back, my face is contorted, low guttural moans emanate from deep inside me and escape out my mouth. My legs draw up and my toes are curled. My back stiffens and arches so much it hurts. My entire body shudders as my climax rolls through me in waves. I lay spent and shaking, longing for you. Wanting to feel you pull me close and hold me tight and though you aren't there, I rest in the nearness of you.

I am a porn star

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 04:41:00 +0000

I have been so focused on my blubbering, sobbing, crying when he was here, I failed to write about anything else that occurred while he was here. I could go on about all the vanilla stuff, like I cooked a marvelous dinner of steak au poivre, potatoes gorgonzola gratin and sauteed asparagus. I could tell you he brought the best wine I have ever tasted to go with it (Three Saints 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon). I could tell you that he came bearing gifts! I got a 10" Caphalon skillet that I have been wanting/needing. I also got a book of erotic stories, inscribed "for the nights my favorite pet has to sleep alone." I could tell you I also got handcuffs and clover clamps...okay, we are veering away from the vanilla now. I could tell you that by the time I was finished cooking and we sat down to dinner I had already been bitten, spanked a bit, pinched and my nipples had been thoroughly abused (and this was BEFORE I opened my presents). I am always amazed that anything I cook ends up edible at all, considering he absolutely delights in torturing me in delicious ways while I am chopping, stirring and sauteing. He particularly enjoys pinching, biting and twisting my nipples, so much so that by the time I opened my presents, I was too tender and too much of a wimp to wear the clamps very long at all. (Yes, they are heavier and a lot more evil than the clamps I already had.) I am sure I will savor them when my nipples are "fresh" though.

After dinner we talked and played and snuggled and played and I sucked his cock (a lot) and he made me cum (a lot). We had talked about going out the next day, to see Christmas sights and maybe take some compromising public pictures of me to post, but we never made it out of the house, hardly made it out of bed. Sometime between breakfast (which consisted of coffee and Christmas cookies...I am a bad pet) and lunch, we were in bed and I was sucking his cock (and generally licking and pleasuring all the surrounding areas of him as well) and I noticed he had his phone out. I knew he was on call and thought he might be checking for messages (though I thought it was an odd time to do so), then I thought, "oh, he is taking pictures of me!" What I didn't realize, until he showed me later, was that he wasn't taking pictures, he was filming. So, now I am a porn star. I didn't think I would like to watch myself, but it was very sexy. Whether it will get posted anywhere or ever be seen by anyone other than the two of us is up to J. It is still nice to know that he is watching me even when we are apart.

Then, after a discussion about going out to lunch, and opting to stay in and heat up leftover shredded beef for sandwiches, we ended up back in bed. More sex, cock-sucking and orgasms mixed with more nipple torture and pussy whipping (yeah, I think that's where the crying came in). Then, while he was fucking my mouth, he did get a phone call (I mentioned he was on call, right?), while he was talking and trouble shooting computer problems (he is sooo smart!) he motioned me to suck him. I was surprised, because I can think about sex or think about other stuff, multi-tasking, not so much. But I did and he did. I love thinking about sucking his cock and serving him while he is working and now I have. All in all, we had a wonderful time together and I love that I am a porn star.

I am afraid I may drown Him in the gift of my tears

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 18:48:00 +0000

I do not cry in front of other people. For years I barely cried at all. In fact my motto was: "Never let them see you cry, crying is a sign of weakness." That stemmed from a time in my life that every weakness was used against me. He told me early on that I would cry for him. I told him I would not. Of course, I was wrong and he was right. Yet I fear that he may come to regret opening those ducts. I never know when my tears will flow or what will trigger the flood. There are times when I know I interrupt our play by crying. It is not intentional, I often try and hold it back. I cannot. It would seem akin to lying to him if I held in my tears (as if I could). If I am crying and he knows I am okay, both physically and emotionally, he keeps it going. He will continue with whatever play (spanking, whipping, pinching, orgasm demanding) he is doing. If he is at all in doubt, or thinks I may have been taken to far, he stops. He holds me, he talks to me, he asks me about the trigger. I rarely can give him an answer, I usually do not know. I'm not sure there is ever one thing. Part of it is being overwhelmed, by emotion, by sensations, by him. Part of it is holding so much in during the course of my daily life. Part of it is being safe and loved and treasured by him. Part of it, I am sure, is being on a hormonal thrill ride this past couple of years.

Often pain will trigger it, not because the pain is so unbearable, but because I am struck with the realization that I could not, would not trust or allow anyone other than him to do [insert whatever he is doing at the time]. When we engage in activities that used to scare me, were part of my past abuse or are things that have been a source of shame for me, I cry. I cry because he is so loving, so respectful, so accepting of all that I am and desire. It is strange to feel this way when he is biting me or whipping my cunt with his belt or pissing on my face, but all of those things are done lovingly and caringly. I know he would never harm me, humiliate me or hate me. In short, he would never abuse me, ever.

Our play is driven by both of our desires. Our desires are driven by each other. We both have come to desire things that we previously did not because the other one did. Or because it is something we can share with each other that will never be given or shared with anyone else. He transforms experiences for me. Things that were scary and shameful in the past are freeing and affirming now. Those really hard things, boundary pushing things, have a spiritual quality. They are like a religious experience for me.

So, I am trying to redefine sexy as puffy eyes, snotty nose and blotchy, wet face. He tells me I am delusional when I tell him he is the sexiest man I have ever known. Yet he thinks my crying self is sexy. It is good to be delusional together.

I am His and it seems my tears are as well...

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 04:32:00 +0000

He was here. He held me, he bit me, he pinched me, he made me cum. I served him, I loved him, I surrendered to him, I cried. It seems that my crying when he is here has become a regular thing. I often don't know why. I do know that I cannot cry in front of anyone but him. I rarely cry even when I am alone. He tells me he sees my tears as a gift that I only give to him. Sometimes I see my tears as a failure, as a weakness of my submission. He wants to hurt me and take me farther, he wants to challenge me and reprogram me. He does not want to harm me or damage me. He wants me to enjoy his enjoyment of me. He is careful with me and caring of me. He knows of my past. He never wants me to feel abused or frightened of him and I never do. Yesterday though, he was pinching and biting and grabbing me. It hurt, but it also turned me on. I wanted it, I wanted him, but then I knew I was going to cry. I could feel the bubble deep inside of me, the bubble of emotions, of tears, of release. It kept getting bigger, closer to the surface. I couldn't contain it. It rose to the top and overflowed out of my tear ducts. I cried, I sobbed, I felt myself break inside. He asked if I was okay, he asked what was wrong. He asked if I knew what brought on my tears. I had no words to tell him, just emotions, just tears. I still don't know why. I think that sometimes I become so overwhelmed by sensation and by him that I cry, because that is how I react when my control, my demeanor crumble in the wake of his control of me. This time it was partly his bites. It was not as if he hurt me badly, it was as if he bit through my shell. He pierced my armor. He broke through to where the tears are, even though I think they are/should be gone. I am safe with J, I am safe to submit to him, surrender to him, be myself with him, be honest with him and cry with him.

It is sometimes to tell him and to express here what I feel and what I think. That is because, when it comes to him, to us, my thoughts and feelings are combined with imagery. I can see images of what is occurring inside of me, I can share those images, but they may only make sense to me. At certain times, he leaves me without words at all. I cannot talk to tell him or answer him. He literally leaves me speechless. I have never been able to let go to this extent before. I have never been able to give myself so fully to anyone. No one has ever been able to take me, control me, pierce me, hold me, comfort me, know me like he does. He is the most amazing, sexy, intuitive, intelligent, compassionate and dominant man I have ever known. He makes me feel beautiful, sensual, smart and his. I will always be his. Each time we are together, he establishes that even more than it already is. I love what he does, how he does it, what he lets me do and who he allows me to be. Thank you J, I look forward to the next year with you and the one after that and the one after that...

Thoughts for Him, reposted with permission

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 22:08:00 +0000

Being in a long distance relationship, as we are, much of our interaction is online or over the phone. We are able to be together more often than many who are separated by distance, but it is far from a daily or even weekly occurrence. On the rare occasions I go onto Fetlife, I read how others are dealing with the obstacle of distance. I am sometimes amazed at how many relationships exist only online. How many subs are "collared" by Doms they have never been (and may never be) acquainted with in real life. Before J and I met in person, we definitely had established a dynamic which certainly held up to being face to face. Though there was always an intention that we would meet. I will keep my reactions to "online only" D/s to myself, or at least save it for another post.

J and I have become very adept at communicating. I think that is imperative whether the relationship is long distance or 24/7. He is very good at planting seeds of desire and submission in my mind and allowing me to grow them into something more. He also reinforces things we have shared or talked about by revisiting that in discussion or asking me to write to Him about it. I both send e-mails and write on a private blog (that is only available to J and I). This is a post from that blog. He did not direct me to share it here, but He did tell me that it deserved to be public, so that others could see it and ultimately see me through my words. what He actually asked me to write about (or at least how I took His request) was my physical reaction to our conversation and the directive He left me with after our conversation. That was my intent, but my thoughts took another path and I let my writing follow that path. These are my thoughts on how His dominance affects me and on my own fears and insecurities about my submission. I do tend to impose more expectations on myself than He imposes on me. He has never expressed disappointment in me or in my submission, but I frequently feel I have fallen short of what I am capable of. Since I have already wasted much time on the explanation of what is written here I will simply get on with reposting what I had written.

Last night, during your call, while you were directing me and possessing me with your voice, there were so many thing going through my head. You evoke so many emotions and feelings and sensations in me. That always is a bit of a surprise to me, even though I know the power you have over me and how easily I can slip into submission for you. In the course of my everyday life, I tend to be a little stoic. Not truly unemotional, but I know it is pointless to succumb to worries and fears, so I just sort of gloss over them and put them on the back burner. Things do have a way of always taking care of themselves. The happy times are there of course, I enjoy life and friends and family, but even that is subdued and balanced by the things I choose to ignore. With you that filter is not existent. You encourage me to let go and feel it all. You encourage me to face my fears and embrace the ecstasy. I can relinquish the control that I normally hold fast to and really feel it all. It is freeing and intimidating at the same time. It puts me in a very vulnerable place. It is a place I can only be in with you.

There is always a moment were I struggle, I feel a small bit of panic creeping over me. I get the urge to push the feelings away and grasp onto self-control. It's like going into a free fall state, my whole body wants to jerk and grab something safe and anchored. Your presence is my safe anchor, whether it is you physically holding me or your voice that is holding me, I feel you supporting me, keeping me safe. I feel you holding me, leading me, taking me. It is probably a strange analogy, but it feels like a womb. I feel I am completely inside of you, you are all around me and you protect me. I am usually a little disoriented, my mind is in an altered state, but your voice and your arms are like an umbilical cord, they are a lifeline for me. Holding me and anchoring me to keep me from falling too far. I am flooded by sensations and thoughts, often fragments of memories. I am overwhelmed by everything my mind and my body experiences at that time. I think that is why I cry. It is my physical reaction to so much, but it is also a release, a release of my control of fighting for control. I can let go and just be, just feel. I am not sure I can even describe the feeling. It is like drowning, but without the panic. I feel vulnerable and almost childlike. Maybe helpless is a better term. I don't like the Daddy dynamic, because of the connotations it holds, also it denotes an inequality of those involved. I think it is an expectation of having someone assume responsibility for another, not just at that moment, but in general. I can understand it though, because at times, my feelings and reaction to you have a childlike feel. You feel very paternal to me at those times. I trust you to care for me and keep me safe. It is the belief and security to know you will make things okay. More than that, I always feel as if I have always known you or at least been connected to you in some way. Like you are an entity that has always been present in my life, or there and connected, waiting for me to find you and invite you in.

When I think of you and what I experience with you, I cannot pigeon-hole my feelings, emotions, desires or experience. It is all so integrated. You fulfill me and stimulate me in every way with everything we do. I love dining and talking with you, but it is so much more than that, it becomes a sensual, sexual experience for me. Even shopping with you, or setting up the booth at Lexington, all are intertwined with desire and want. Yet, the sexual interaction we share is not only sexual, it is also spiritual and intellectual. I know my explanation is poorly worded, but it is as good as I can explain. I have never experienced a relationship that was so holistic and unified. You touch and affect every part of me, I am completely yours. There is no part of me that has not been influenced or marked by you. There is nothing I can reserve or keep from you. My desire is to give you everything, but that is because you already know and generate everything within me.

It effects me in other ways too. My thoughts and fantasies often do not go beyond what we have, or at least what we have discussed. I do think about another woman, or piercings, or even more intense play. What I have experienced with you is very intense though, it is hard to imagine anything that goes beyond that. I think about things, but I never feel I need more. I am not opposed to new things with you, to the things we have discussed, they intrigue me. I know I don't need them though. If what we share is all I ever had, it would be enough. It is so much more than I have ever known. Even benign contact with you provides me with so much. My sexual desires for you are not any more than my desire to simply share time with you. Talking and being with you are as fulfilling and comforting, in their own way, as the D/s and the play that we engage in. Sometimes, my greatest desires are for the simplest things, to talk with you, to hear your voice, to look into your eyes, to kiss you or touch you. Other times my mind goes far beyond, beyond even what we will probably ever do. I allow myself to think about extreme play or experiences. I have thought about branding or cutting, even though those things scare me and I know I would never want to actually do that. I have thought about complete surrender and objectification. Of you sharing me with other men. Those fantasies are usually brought on by things I read or videos I watch, again I cannot imagine truly desiring that, it is the idea, the totality of that surrender and obedience that appeals to me. When I think of those extreme situations, I have a mixed reaction. Part of me gets very turned on and part of me is repulsed by it.

There are other fears too. Fears of a more practical nature, though still unlikely. I fear losing you. Not that you would leave me or disappear from me, but fears that something would happen to you. I think about how I would not know, that I would have no way to find out. I think about how it might be days before I knew something tragic happened, perhaps by seeing something posted on Facebook, or by calling your office because you were silent and being told something had happened. Or not knowing at all and being left to wonder. I know that is a terribly morbid though, but it sometimes surfaces. I worry that if something happened to you, someone would find our texts or my pictures on your phone or on your computer. I think about how painful it would be to return to a life without you in it. Or worse, that something might happen to you and I would not be able to be there for you, to care for you to be able to see you and help you. These are not really things that I dwell on or think about often, mostly because they are unlikely and there is nothing I can change by thinking about it. Yet, I am aware that possibility exists.

Then there is the fear of disappointing you, of failing you. I know you have wanted me to search for another woman for us. I have so far failed in that task. It is not a lack of desire for that experience, it is more of a lack of knowing how to do that. It is also due to time constraints and now I am making excuses I suppose. I know I need to work on my profiles and look on the sites I am already on. By not following through on your wishes, I have already failed in what you have asked of me. It has not been an intentional failure or refusal, but I have no explanation of myself. Time is a big part of it, time management at least. I suppose there is a bit of fear of failure or a trust issue (not having to do with you, but of others). I will continue to work on that, but I can make no promises. My intentions have always been there, but I have not followed through like I should have. I am grateful for your patience and you understanding where that is concerned. I don't want you to think I am intentionally balking or refusing. When you talk about training me in my reactions to pain and to sensation, being able to cum from being spanked or caned or from a look or a tone, my mind wonders if that is possible. I wonder if I am capable of that. I worry that I will disappoint you with my lack of ability. Though I would have never thought it possible to orgasm without being touched, simply from your voice and my thoughts. I never thought I would be able to orgasm as long or as hard as you can make me. So I know it is possible, but I am not sure I can train my mind to be that adept, to change my reactions to pain or stimulus. I know you want to take me farther and farther, I hope I am able to comply to your wishes. I wonder sometimes where my actual boundaries lie, or even if they exist at all. You have certainly expanded them, changed them. My acceptance, my desires, my enjoyment of things is vastly different from when we first met. You have taken traumatic experiences from my past and freed me from them. You have shown me how to trust and how to love and you have changed me in ways that have impacted my whole life and way of relating to people and experiences. You have changed my thinking and my physical reactions. I am a better person because of you.

Okay, I know this was not the writing, the post you were thinking of, this is just where my mind took me. I will write on your original intention later. After I accomplish a few things and think on things of a more submissive and sexual nature. I love you and I want you. As always I am consumed with thoughts and longing and anticipation of you. I am yours and I will always be yours.

Thanksgiving

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 01:12:00 +0000

The past few months have been tumultuous for both J and I. Not in our relationship, but separately, in our lives. I don't know who I am kidding, the past couple of years have been fraught with stress. What hasn't been stressful or tumultuous or causing any problems at all? Us, J and I. We are good, we are perfect, we are twin souls. He is my rock, my anchor, my perfect love. No matter what else happens in my life, my thoughts of him, my love of him, my submission to him keeps me grounded.

Today, in the United States, we celebrate Thanksgiving. No matter that the origins of this holiday are very different from what it is today (aren't they all), no matter that the Christians have hijacked the holiday to make it "theirs", it is (for me) a day to be still, reflect and offer gratitude to God, or the Universe, or Mother Earth for all the blessings in my life. There are so many I cannot count them. I am grateful for everything I have and everything I have gone through. All that I have is a gift, all I have experienced has made me the person that I am. I am humbled and I am blessed. I am just as grateful for the bad things as the good things. The trials have broken me and wounded me, they made me become open and acknowledge my dependence. I had to be cracked open to accept what the Universe had for me. I had to be broken in order to be healed. I had to become who I am in order to be who I am to J. J and I share a soul, we are opposite sides of the same coin, yin and yang. I never believed in that sort of stuff before, but now I could never deny it. I can feel what he feels, I can sense him. He can look into my mind and heart and know my fears and my needs and my joys. A a part of him is inside of me and me in him. That sharing, that bond makes us stronger, helps us go on. I am thankful for J. He is my greatest blessing, he enhances everything else in my life. Together, we are greater than we could ever be alone. Thank you J, for choosing me, for accepting me, for loving me.

If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.
When the mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

Little drops of rain whisper of the pain, tears of loves lost in the days gone by.
Our love is strong, with you there is no wrong.
Together we shall go until we die, my, my, my...
Inspiration's what you are to me, inspiration, look and see...

For the more of the story of what is going on in my life...read my other blog, Life in the Dog's House.
I have been lax in posting there too, but it is a peek into the vanilla side of my life.

You are my purpose

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 21:17:00 +0000

There are days, when the longing is so consuming and the ache inside is so strong, that tears dampen my eyes and I am driven to distraction. There is nothing I can do to lessen the craving, my attempts merely fuel it. It is more than a need to satisfy a desire, it is a need to be completely owned by you. I am adrift in meaninglessness, my only purpose is in your pleasure. It is not your touches or my own physical release that I seek, it is your dominance, your presence, your control. It is not accomplished by force and show, you are very subtle in your use of me. Your fingers clamped on my nipple, your hand at my neck, your fist wrapped in my hair, sometimes my cue is a touch so light and gentle it is barely felt. Your commands of me are just as concise. Few words, softly spoken, "open", "suck harder", "be still", "tell me", "cum now". Yet, it is your look that makes my heart skip a beat, not exactly a reprimand, but it bores into me and stops me in my tracks. It makes me shut up mid-sentence and demands complete and immediate submission.

You are my meaning, my reason, to serve you and give to you all that I can give. My reward is your use and ultimately your pleasure. Feeling you move me and position me to your satisfaction. Servicing you with my hands and my mouth. Being devoted to you, as your slut and your pet. Sinking deeper and deeper into my submission as your presence washes over me and encompasses me. Craving the marks of your use and possession, needing the sting of your hand and your belt that signifies your acceptance of me. Hoping for and dreading the bite of the cane and the smack of the brush. Longing for and savoring everything you give me, from the way you expertly make orgasms spring forth from me and the sweet flood of your cum in my mouth, to your hot piss running over me. I luxuriate in your nearness, curling up next to you with delight and contentment. When you are here, all is right in the world.

But when you leave, before you even pull from the driveway, it begins again. That ache, that need. I become an addict, counting the minutes until my next fix. Watching, waiting and hoping, for your voice, for your text, for your next visit. For my chance to greet you, serve you, adore you. I really am your pet, counting time til her owner's return.

Domestic Servitude give-away

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 02:34:00 +0000

I don't know how many of you are readers of Domestic Servitude. It is a blog, put together by Danae and several other ladies, and they post helpful tips, tutorials, recipes and links for making any home run smoother. This week they are also hosting a give-away for a $45 gift certificate for CSN stores. Check them out and enter the give-away.

Have I mentioned how much I love this man?

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 00:33:00 +0000

Sometimes I think that D/s relationships are defined entirely by the dynamic. They are D/s first and relationships second. If that is the case then we are doing it wrong, because ours is certainly about the relationship first. We have more love, caring, involvement and intimacy than many couples that live in the same household. I realize that in some ways, that may be because we are apart. Many stressors that take a toll on other relationships simply do not apply to us in the same way. Of course we both experience the common problems that everyone does, money issues, work issues, family issues, we share these concerns with each other and we are supportive and concerned for each other. Life apart keeps them from being a wedge between us, though I am not completely sure they would if we did live together.

We both have weathered our share of problems the past couple of years. Personally and professionally, we have both taken a number of hits. My finances have been teetering on the brink of ruin, I have dealt with my son's inability to properly care for his children, my work has completely changed focus and has become more stressful and dangerous at times. J's business has seen the effects of a poor economy, His income has taken other hits as well, even as the business has improved, His work has remained a source of stress and contention at times. More recently, His youngest brother died unexpectedly. I can honestly say these things have brought us closer. J has been a source of strength and support for me that I have never experienced with anyone else. I have also tried to be a source of love and support for Him as well.

While we do not come home to each other every night, we do talk most days and see each other often. I am always thrilled to hear His voice or receive a message from Him. In between, my thoughts of Him keep me calm, content and secure. I tell Him everything, I laugh with Him, I cry with Him, He is my soul mate and my rock. I think about Him when I cook, clean, do laundry, go to work. He may not be here with me, but I do things for Him, with Him in mind regardless. The simple act of making sure there is enough toilet paper is done with Him in mind. Each night, when I go to bed, I feel Him next to me. I touch Him, kiss Him and hold Him, all in my thoughts. Every night and every morning, I feel His arms around me. He is home to me, He is everything to me. I really love this man more than I can express. Rather amazing, considering three years ago, I shunned intimacy, love and long term relationships. In Him, I have been reborn, renewed and rediscovered.

Visiting the past

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:22:00 +0000

I am not sure if it's due to my age, maybe I am entering another stage of my life. Possibly I have evolved enough to see things as they were, but differently. Maybe I am just taking inventory of my gratitude for how things have turned out. Whatever the reason, I keep being turned around to look back on the past and reflect on what was.

Things I read, things people say to me, dreams that I have, almost daily prompt me to take a look back. A few years ago, I would have resisted that backward glance. My life was good, but there were things in the past too painful to recall and better left alone. I would have claimed that I was over all of that, things had been laid to rest, resolved, so I did not need to remember them or think about it. J changed all that, He wanted to know about me, He asked me questions. He didn't press me to tell Him things that were painful for me, but He would tell me, "one day you'll want to tell me about it." And, since He is always right, much sooner than later, I would. He did not see my aversion to crying as a good thing. He told me, "when you are ready, you will give your tears to me," and of course, He was right. Although, now He might regret that, because I cry for Him all the time. He has deconstructed the walls I had built. He taught me how to trust and be vulnerable. He has opened my boundaries and expanded my limits. For the first time in my life, because of Him, I have experienced intimacy and love. He has changed me and He has left His mark on my soul and heart. The truth as I knew it then and the truth as I know it now, exists only in my mind. That truth is constantly evolving, therefore, I am constantly evolving.

As I evolve, I keep revisiting the past and redefining it. Some parts of my past are simply memories that I reflect on and am grateful for the outcome. Other parts are more traumatic and I assess their impact at the time and the healing that has occurred. Then there are the stories from my life that are ongoing, where the end is yet unknown. The story of J and I fall into this last category, I will have to wait and see what He has in store for me and what the Universe has in store for us.

Perceptions

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 17:27:00 +0000

The past year has led me to reconnect with several people from my past. Old friends from high school, more than a couple old boyfriends. (Love it or hate it, Facebook is certainly far-reaching.) I was thrilled to find many of these "friends". Some of them I hesitated about, not knowing if (or what) they remembered of me. I let friend requests sit while I mulled over what had been. I thought less about who they had been than who I had been. I remembered my high school self as: rather naive (though far from chaste), pretty self-centered, searching for something I wouldn't find until years later, not feeling like I really fit in, having lots of friends, uncertain of who I really was. (In other words, a typical teenager.) I hung out with the "good kids", I was a good kid. I was also pretty sexually active. I had some degree of sex with most of my boyfriends, as well as some "friends with benefits". I was naive enough to think that no one knew and that most of my friends were virgins. I guess I didn't want to be remembered as "that girl". I think that being faced with those past connections I identified with that teen-age girl, who worried about what people thought of her. Now I am not sure what I was worried about.

What has astounded me is the perceptions those old boyfriends have had of me for all of these years. As I have chatted, e-mailed and spoken to them in the course of catching up, I have found the person they remembered is not the person I remembered. Their memories of me are not of the promiscuous, shallow, awkward girl I remember. They remember me fondly, glowingly. Some of the adjectives they have used are: caring, compassionate, pretty, soft-hearted and sensual. One of them told me that he compared every sexual partner he has had to me. Another said he thought of me often and has very fond memories. My first love (and the boy I lost my virginity to), said I will always be a significant person in his life and he will always love me. All of their remarks have floored me. I was never drop dead gorgeous, I never had a perfect body, I never considered myself sexy or even memorable. None of these guys told me this as a come on, none of them were trying to "hook-up" again. I thought a couple of them might harbor some resentment, since I had broken up with them for no other reason than teenage fickleness.

It made me think about our perceptions and memories. My own guilt and insecurities influenced my recollections of 35+ years ago. They also didn't allow me to understand who I was or the depth of my relationships at the time. I tend to judge myself harshly (part of that perfectionist thing). There are things I am very confident about, my intellect, my job performance, my cooking skills. I don't think I am insecure about things, I just don't think about them. Things like my attractiveness and desirability. I don't view myself that way, I wouldn't describe myself that way. I see lots of women that are prettier and sexier than I am. In terms of looks and abilities I think I am average, certainly better at some things and lacking in others. I do take pride in my job. It is challenging, it doesn't make me special, but a lot of people would not do it.

I think there are many things which still color my perception of how others view me. I think I need to be kinder in opinion of myself.

Accepting imperfection

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 01:01:00 +0000

I have always been a perfectionist. Not that you can tell by looking at me, or my house, or my life. That is the problem with perfection, it is impossible to achieve. I never believed I was a perfectionist, because I was so terribly imperfect. I had ideas of how I wanted things to be, those things being me, or at least things that I thought were in my control. Perfectionism results in two things, being constantly disappointed and finding out that there is very little you control. When something in my life went wrong, I always blamed myself. I always felt I had failed miserably. I think that was a contributing factor in my abuse. I ended up in a relationship, and then marriage, to a man that I should have run from. I met him just months after my first divorce. I felt like a failure, I was frightened to be on my own. I did not know how I was going to support and provide for my young son as a single parent. I felt unwanted and undesirable. R preyed upon those feelings, he flattered me and lavished attention on my son. When I noticed danger signs and would pull away, he manipulated my insecurities and doubts. Once we were married, he had no problem placing the blame for things on me and I had no problem accepting it. We did not have a consensual DD or D/s relationship (I did not even know what those were), but he justified the abuse as punishment. It was one more thing for him to blame on me, he told me that I "made" him do those things to me.

Even after I left him, I was a perfectionist, and as a result a failure. It didn't seem that way from the outside. I was a single mother (now to two sons), I was advancing in my job, I had a house. I also completely eschewed any kind of relationships. I had friends (but I kept them at arms length). I did not date (at all, I knew my bad track record was all my fault). I was extremely independent and relied on no one but myself (other people always let me down). I had convinced myself that I just had terrible judgment about trusting others, so I refused to trust myself. I was very careful to do, and to attempt, only those things that I was sure I could be successful at. I didn't risk any more failure.

That fear of failure is paralyzing. Rather than risk failure, you simply don't risk at all. I was reliable, I always helped others (sometimes at my own expense). I could not or would not ask anyone else for help, I would decline help if it was offered. It was more than fearing rejection, I didn't think I was worth it. Deep down, I believed...that maybe I had deserved the abuse inflicted on me. I didn't deserve help and support from friends. I was not sexy or pretty or good. People told me they admired me, they told me how strong I was. Their statements always made me feel like a fraud. I never told anyone of my past, I was afraid if I did they would see me as I was. Weak, tainted and stupid. I never understood how I had ended up in that marriage. I had thought I was fairly intuitive and a good judge of character, that whole bad experience proved me wrong. The only solution I had, was to never have another relationship, for fear of repeating my mistake.

This past week was my third anniversary with J. He is everything I thought I would never find and didn't deserve anyway. He understands everything I am and He accepts everything I am not. He tells me I am beautiful and sexy and a good girl. He tells me I am strong, smart and caring. He tells me that my past is not my fault and no one should have ever hurt me that way. He tells me that He would never subject me anything like that. He tells me He loves me. I believe Him. He has freed me from so much, He has brought me to this point. This point of truth and of accepting myself.

I am not sure how I ended up here. I don't really know why, after over a decade of celibacy and shunning relationships and intimacy, I began browsing "dating" sites. I am not sure what prompted me to send that first message to J. I do believe that I was destined to be with Him. I believe that as soon as I was at the right place in my life, He was placed in my path. I believe that we were somehow connected before meeting. In all of the ripples we send out into the Universe by our thoughts and actions, ours had somehow crossed and intertwined. My whole life has been a journey, I am now on that journey with J. But, even before we were traveling together, I think we were on parallel paths. I am so happy and grateful our paths merged. I am no longer afraid of failure, there is only failure in giving up.

the only way out is through

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 20:00:00 +0000

After I wrote my last post, I had a really good day. My mind was clear, I felt like my old self again. Today, however has been a different story. It started out good, I was tired, but fine. As I began to do things around the house and plan my day, it hit me. I felt it slowly creeping in, waves of anxiety and fear. Thoughts and memories of the past crowded my mind. I tried to push the feelings down, I took deep breaths and reasoned with myself. I knew the fear wasn't real or at least wasn't justified. I knew I was safe. I felt like I was losing my mind, my body reacted physically to my emotions. My pulse raced, my chest tightened up, I became nauseous. I wanted to hide or run away. Even the dogs reacted to me. I was still trying to go through the motions and do things around the house, but I must have been sending out the same energy I was feeling. They became anxious, they crowded around me, they tried to comfort me. Their actions made me worse, I was trying to hide the way I was feeling. I did not want to be touched, not even by them. I began to shake, I started sobbing, eventually I threw up. I absolutely recognized this feeling, it was how I felt for the greater part of a year, right before I managed to break away from him. The more I tried to fight it, the worse it got. I finally sat down and remembered, I remembered the feelings, I remembered the abuse, I remembered the isolation and being discounted by anyone I had the courage to try and tell. Since the abuse was mostly sexual, I never told anyone the details. (I did tell some people that I was afraid of him and I wanted to leave.) As I sat there and remembered, I trembled and cried and pulled myself into a tight ball. I made myself feel it, I made myself think about it, and then gradually the anxiety lessened, the fear dissipated and finally it all was over. I felt better, I felt stronger, I was me again. I am sure that it is not all over, but I understand now that I will have to go through it. I will have to go back and resolve it. I stuffed all of it deep inside for a long time. I have faced it and let some of it out over the past few years with J. He has helped me with that process. But now it is all surfacing, I will need to do this and do this alone. The only way out is through.

I debated about sharing all of it here. I wasn't sure I could put it out there and actually write it all down, but I think that I need to. If you do not want to know any details (though it is not graphic and I have not included many details) or if you disagree with my decision to write this, stop reading now. I do not want sympathy, nor do I want judgment, this all happened a long time ago. This is my story and I have held it inside me for too long. I may write more about it later, I have written some about it in the past, but as I write it here it is no longer living inside of me. I am not ashamed any more, it wasn't my fault. The shame is his, though he will never accept it. He has never acknowledged any wrong doing or showed remorse in any way. I haven't had contact with him in a while, but he still calls my son whenever he needs money. I am letting this go a little at a time. Each time it spills out from me, there is more room inside me. Each time I heal more. Maybe someday, I will be whole.

I had felt completely isolated and alone, I was terrified. I was isolated from my friends and family, he had convinced me that no one cared about me. I journaled at the time, then as now it helped me cope and work through things. It was my only confessional, it was how I held onto my reality, rather than his lies. He found my journal and read it, he twisted my words around and accused me of cheating on him, sabotaging him and lying to him. After this happened, I threw out all of my journals, I only started writing again a few years ago. Even during the years after the divorce, when I was single and alone, I was always afraid to keep a journal. I was afraid someone would find it and use it against me. He lied about everything, even things that didn't matter. If I confronted him about any of the lies he blew up and berated me and by the end he had me apologizing for doubting him. He was using a lot of drugs at the time, he was stealing from employers, friends, family and me. He was abusing me and threatening my son. We went to counseling twice during that time. He would only go to "Christian" counseling and he always did most of the talking. The first time, the woman was a licensed counselor, but she didn't talk to either of us separately. After listening to us (mostly him), she advised that the main problem was my unruly son and that I needed to be more supportive of R (my ex) and his attempts to parent my son and make the relationship work. (My son was about 7 at the time, and my ex was very jealous of my relationship with him). The second attempt at counseling was with a "pastor" of a very large evangelical church. He was also supposedly licensed as a counselor. My ex was much more honest that time, if you can call his act honest (think Jimmy Swaggart...I have sinned). By then he had been in trouble with the law and been fired from several jobs for stealing. He still did most of the talking, he confessed to all the things he had done (those things that he had been caught doing), he cried, he said he was sorry. That counselor did speak with us separately. When alone, I told him that I wanted out, I wanted to get away. I told him I didn't have any resources to do it and I felt I had no support system. The counselor told me that I needed to stay, that R was sorry for what he had done and needed me to stand by him and support him. He told me that R's salvation and redemption depended on me. Basically, I was told to be the "godly" wife and stand by my man. The church offered financial help to us, not me. No mention or acknowledgment was made my wish to leave and get away, no offer was made to help me do so.

He did not beat me, I never had any visible bruises or injuries. His abuse was threats, intimidation and sexual. He hurt me many times during sex, that was the only way he could get off. He often could not maintain an erection unless he was hurting me and when he still couldn't he blamed me. That was when he told me I was a whore, that I was disgusting. That was when he would hold me down, or hold a knife at my throat, and urinate on me. Sometimes he would choke me, though he often did that when he was raping me anyway. He would spit on me and tell me I was a worthless slut, that I would give it up to anyone. Then he would tell me how I had ruined sex for him by wanting all kinds of perversions (nothing I had ever wanted, but all the things he did to me).

My last attempt to rid myself of him (before I actually was successful) was after he had been charged with forging prescriptions and extortion (he was blackmailing a pharmacist to obtain drugs). After his preliminary court hearing, he was released. I would not let him back in the house. I reasoned that he would not force his way in or retaliate against me, because he was already in trouble and it was all pending. He was staying at a seedy hotel near my home. He called me constantly, begging and threatening, trying to get me to take him back. One day he called and told me that he was going to kill himself if I didn't come talk to him. He told me that our son would never forgive me and it would all be my fault. I did not go, I called the police and reported the suicide threat. Officers went and talked to him and then came to see me. They told me that he just wanted to speak with me and why wouldn't I go? I told them I was afraid of him. They asked if he had ever hit me or if I had ever filed charges on him. I told them no, I did not want to tell them what the abuse consisted of, it was shameful for me. They talked me into going to see him, he ended up coming home with me. I am really not sure why I let him come back, other than I just wasn't strong enough at the time to stand up to him face to face.

Obviously, I did get away, I did get divorced. I was able to do that when he was sentenced to a year in prison. I still only could do it with my father's help. My family still does not know of the abuse, they only know about his criminal activity and that he went to jail.

Working through it

noreply@blogger.com (Alice) — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 00:59:00 +0000

I had planned for my next post to be something that J requested me to write. Truthfully, I have tried to put that post together, but I am very distracted by what is going on with me and I haven't been able to concentrate enough to comply with His request. I truly appreciated the responses to my last post and those comments (along with Gillette's post) have given me some sense of my current feelings. I am still struggling with putting my thoughts into words, but I am just going to forge ahead and ramble through this. I hope the following makes sense.

I realize the emotional nature of my being lately has a lot to do with the hormonal fluctuations going on inside of me. I also know that this is not abnormal, but it is quite disconcerting. In Gillette's post, she says...

The most exciting piece I discovered is how hormones affect the brain. All the hormones that are dominant in the reproductive period of life are geared toward creating a chemical proclivity for balance and peace. Opioids are released, literally covering up the paths to our memories. These affect the "primitive" brain- the temporal lobe, the amygdyla, the hippocampus...all places of our deep unconscious stuff. We literally put not only our lives, but also our feelings, on hold to create a safe and secure hearth and home for our progeny....even if we don't have any.

When we start our hormonal shifts (whether during PMS, postpartum depression or perimenopause), those hormones are no longer dominant.. Others that trigger the unconscious areas of the brain increase. Fewer opioids mean memories and the subconscious stuff not dealt with in the past are no longer buried. When we are stressed in life, whether from outer shaiza in our lives or simply because we respond intensely to life, a feedback loop ensues: We get stressed...which affects our hormones...which brings us more stress...which affects us even more.

This describes exactly what I am experiencing. I am feeling and having to work through all the trauma from my past that I had buried in my subconscious for so long. For the past three years, J has helped me face unresolved issues from my past. He slowly dismantled the walls I had put in place to protect me. Their protective value had been questionable, but they had allowed me to avoid any intimacy and pain for a long time. I suppose the only thing they had protected me from was myself. Even as my walls came down, the memories of those experiences were pretty muted. I acknowledged what had happened in the past, but specific memories and the emotions surrounding them were fuzzy. More and more memories have surfaced, especially over this past year. Those memories were painful, but it still was as if they had happened to someone else. I could usually think about them objectively and I spent little time reflecting on the actual experience or exploring how I had felt at the time.

Little by little those experiences and those feelings are seeping back into my consciousness. Snippets of recall pop into my mind, flashbacks of moments, specific minutia, mere minutes of a memory. Sometimes there is a trigger, other times a snapshot just appears like a flash from a camera. I have witnessed the progression of my emotions from that time long ago. The hurt, the fear, the betrayal, the anger, the confusion that all culminated in nothingness. I became nothing, I felt nothing. I retreated within myself, if I just condescended it would be over soon. I was numb and compliant. Lay there and let it happen, don't fight, be quiet and he'll be done with you and leave you alone for now. That disassociation outlived the walls I had built. I remembered, but I was still numb. That novocaine is wearing off and I am left feeling prickly and stingy as the pain seeps back in slowly...

I will write more as I am able. This is all I can express for now, it is a difficult process. I am working through it.