May 6th, 2013
His hand snaked up into her hair, fingers curling tightly against her scalp. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered softly, “I love you.”
April 16th, 2013
Fear – Knowledge – Understanding – Acceptance – Normativity
New ideas are met with fear. People fear what they don’t understand. So, those with the new ideas keep talking, bringing knowledge about the idea to others. They educate people so that there can be understanding. Once there is understanding, people can begin to accept these new ideas. Once enough people accept an idea, it becomes the norm.
The trouble comes when fear closes eyes and ears. When it stills tongues. When fear kills a new idea before it can even be explored. Fear can be strong, so strong, that new ideas are met with violence. Over and again in human history, ideas beget fear, and fear begets violence. When there is fear and violence, there is no learning, there is no science, and there is no progress.
And sometimes we move backwards, and we have to start the cycle all over again. Homosexuality is nothing new, it has been part of human culture since the ancients. But somewhere along the line we moved backwards, and acceptance of homosexuality became a new idea again. And it is met with fear, and sometimes violence. Today, the knowledge is overwhelming the fear more often, and understanding is growing again. But we are still too far from acceptance, and much too far from normativity.
I mentioned to gay marriage to my mother, a retired pastor, this week. Her response to me was to mention that a different denomination approved of it. Her answer to my disappointment in the Church I grew up in, was to change denominations.
The idea of multiple loves, and marriages, is nothing new. Around the world today, various cultures approve or disapprove of it for various, mostly religious-based reasons. People interpret their holy texts in the way they see fit, and base their values around it. And that’s fine, the trouble comes when they try to make others live by their chosen values. This is a nation based on freedom. Freedom of religion. Freedom of expression. But we make laws about who can love who, who can marry who and how many. Why is that even part of the legal system?
Health benefits, death benefits, power of attorney. You can have a wife and three kids on your family insurance, why not two wives, if you pay for it the same? Child custody is just as complicated with marriage, divorce and remarriage and divorce as it would be in multiple parent households. We were founded by people fleeing religious persecution, only, centuries later, to be basing our laws on Judeo-Christian religious values.
I went to church this past weekend and the lesson was the parable of the Good Samaritan. The lesson was to love, not just those that believed as you did, but to love everyone. The world gets more crowded every year, we have got to stop pretending that we are right and everyone else is wrong. There will never be peace while there is fear, hatred, and intolerance. Fear breeds violence, and violence brings change to a screaming halt.
March 21st, 2013
Times, they are a’ changing.
I am living on my own these days. The details and such are not for public forums, but I’m writing this post, because I want to say that everything will be alright.
As I often say, I have an amazing life. I have been given the opportunity to do so much. To see so much and to experience so much. I have lived in different states and different countries. I have loved a lot of people and met so many more. I have had stable employment (if not always stable hours) for the last decade, while pursuing my many and varied dreams. And the end of a single, though very important, relationship, is not going to put an end to the greatness of my life.
I do not regret the relationship. I do not regret the time we spent together, and all that we shared. I only regret the pain we caused one another these last few years, but even that has made us both stronger. Has forced us to grow and to learn.
I am not alone. I still have a loving boyfriend, and his poly-cule. I still have all my chosen family, my friends and my blood family. I have love and support all around me, including that which hubby is still providing. But, I am also ready to be on my own, independent and strong.
I’ve always been afraid to live alone. Afraid I could not make it on my own. I told my parents once, when I was young, that I needed a husband to start fires and open jars. Well, I’ve long since discovered fireplace lighters, and I’m working on a solution to that jar problem(suggestions, please leave a comment). But other than stubborn Prego jars, I finally feel confident in myself.
That, my friends, is the best feeling in the world. To know, in your heart, that you can stand on your own two feet, and stride forward, chin up and eyes on your dreams. I am eager to see where life takes me next, and to steer my course where I want it to go.
February 7th, 2013
One of the first things they talked about was the different levels of humiliation play. You could play lightly with being shy, or a little harder into embarrassment, or harder still into shame, or further into degradation, or go all the way into objectification. Or you could run up and down the ladder in one scene. The first couple are about things you’re doing – shy about talking about sex, or embarrassed by being naked in public. In shame, you’re digging more into the person, the brain – feeling like a bad person for what you’re doing, or that you’re enjoying what you’re doing. Degradation is deeper tearing down of a person – being Told you’re a bad person, or a slut, or worthless. Then, you can get all the way to objectification – being treated like an object, with no rights, no voice, no humanity – you have become a piece of furniture, a thing to be used, or not worth using.
The next thing he talked about was how to create these scenes. How to find things you can humiliate a person about. Mostly here, he talked about conversations, and reading body language. If a person’s eyes dart away and back, or they blush or bite their lower lip. This could be something to play with. You can also tell what level of humiliation they are at by body language. When a person reaches shame, the eyes tend to stay down, and the body language turns away. Degradation and objectification lead to even more closed and small body language. He also talked about it being important, once you start down this road, to not let up or balk at the first sign of resistance. The bottom/sub generally wants a strong top/dom, not someone who is going to back down at the first argument or tear.
The third most important thing, in my opinion, that was discussed was reconciliation after the scene. You have to both recover from a humiliation scene, and it can be a lot more mentally taxing than other types of scenes. Some pretty horrible things can be said and felt. It is of utmost importance to remember that you love each other and that you played that way because you both enjoy it, and it gives you pleasure. You also have to figure out what kind of aftercare you require beyond these reminders. In the class, he said he has to leave her alone for 20-30 minutes because she reacts in anger, and has to come down from there on her own. For me, I need verbal reassurance and physical connection. Chocolate is never a bad idea either.
December 3rd, 2012
“Behind every great man, there’s a great woman.” Or reverse that, if you’re the other way around. I’m not a leader. I don’t play the politics game. I am a follower, an organizer, a communicator and a peace-maker. I stay behind the scenes, quietly helping things run as smoothly as I am able.
This community of ours is large and quite diverse. I am lucky to be a part of a local community with so many active groups that I’m not sure I can even name them all. And in a kink community, with so many alpha(Dom) personalities, it really takes something to be a leader. It takes something I don’t have, and I’m very grateful to those that do.
It isn’t even just about running one of the many group meetings or parties. These leaders bring together people from all walks of life, with kinks as varied as the stars, and they create community. They create spaces where everyone can be their true selves without fear. They lead by serving, always active in their events, and in the events of others. They also mediate disputes, with fairness and understanding. They stay true to themselves and their agreements with the community at large, to keep everyone safe. Even when doing so makes people unhappy. You can’t make everyone happy all the time, especially if you’re a leader. Sometimes you have to put the group above the individual. Even if you care for the individual very much. I couldn’t do it, and I’m so very grateful for and proud of those that do. And do so with discretion and care for all involved.
Well, that was not what I had intended to write. But since it’s what came out, it probably needed said. I was going to write about community. What does community mean to me, was the question I was asked. So, let’s go from there.
Community is a group of people with a common interest (most dictionary definitions stop there, but I go further), who come together to support each other and share with one another. In the context of this blog, that common interest is Kink. We are a group of people whose sexual expression is outside the societal norm. We come together to learn and share and protect each other. Not to mention meet each other, it is harder to be kinky alone, though not impossible. Self-love, after all, can be quite fun, too.
So, what about this community I call home?
I love it. We have big groups that host amazing events. We have little groups that have dinner together. We have a couple groups that focus solely on rope. We have groups that teach a wide variety of topics. We have groups that throw parties. We have a group that goes to hookah bars. We have a group that goes bowling. We have a group for littles, groups for FemDoms, and one for photographers. And as mentioned above, I’m sure I’m forgetting some others. (Oh, yeah, there’s a poly group, too.) It is amazing the wide variety of options available here.
And yet, we are still one big community. People can attend nearly every single one of these groups, and quite a few do try. Most days, you can find a kinky gathering going on, and often, if you can’t, someone creates one, even if it’s just a movie night or a game night or a thrift store trip. Weeknight events can gather 30-40 people, play parties upwards of 100, and the big events 300+ (often limited only by the space available). It is incredible the joy, energy and caring that comes together in this community. And once again, a shout out in gratitude to the folks who make these groups and events happen.
So, what does the local community mean to me?
It means acceptance, understanding, strength, growth, learning, sharing, and caring. It means a place where I can be myself. Where I can serve and love, learn and teach, scream and cry, giggle and chatter, fly and space out. It is a place where dreams come true, and reality is even more exciting than fiction (and yes, stranger, too). It is also a place of humanity. Where people make mistakes, where bad things happen, where relationships don’t always work out. Where people fight, spread rumors and believe half-truths or all-out lies. But it is also a place where people can learn from the bad, where we can grow beyond our mistakes, where the end of a relationship, doesn’t have to mean the end of a friendship. Where truth can cut through the rumors, and bring healing, in time. Because we are here together, to share and support each other. If we didn’t, it’d be a pretty poor community, and we would not have anywhere near the strength that we do.
November 22nd, 2012
Thanksgiving. A day for gratitude and over eating. What am I grateful for this year?
I am grateful for all the people who love me, and whom I love. I have a life full of loving, and caring individuals who support me. Whether they live with me, in the same town as me, in a different state or even in a different country. I have a wonderful network of friends, family and chosen family. And I am grateful for them every day of the year.
I am grateful that I was born in the USA, with it’s freedoms, democracy, and wide diversity of beliefs, people, opinions, and opportunities. So much of the world is drowning in poverty, oppression and war. I am grateful that I have so few barriers (and those mostly internal) to following my dreams.
I am grateful for this blog. I have this space where I can speak my mind, openly and without fear. I can share it with people or leave it to be discovered. I occasionally get comments, publicly or privately, that encourage me to continue. I am grateful for a place to share my journey with others.
I am grateful for the little things. For a hug when I need it most. For a whipping when I need to break. For knowing I’ve only cracked and pushing harder. For a bed to crash in. For smart ass jokes. For pictures of fire. For kitties. For a puppy curled up in my lap. For apologies. For thank you. For space. For closeness. For believing. For listening. For asking. For silence. For music. For a phone call. For a text message. For I love you. For mindless movies. For chocolate. For cooking lessons at 2am. For running out for take out. For comments, likes and loves. For comfy couches and fleece blankets.
Speaking of which, I have to be at work in 7 hours. Goodnight folks.
October 20th, 2012
So I was reading posts on Fearless Press, looking for ideas for today’s post. I liked a lot of the posts, and, as I said in the previous post, the idea of labels and active D/s came to mind. Well, I guess, not labels, but label – submissive, to be precise. I might get into dominant a little, too, due to the nature of the discussion. We’ll see how it goes, shall we?
Sea’s post What is a Submissive and Who’s on First? goes into the impossibility of strictly defining what a submissive IS. He suggests, rather, starting with a ballpark, and asking the specific person about their expressions of submission. Bendyogagirl‘s post If you were really submissive, you would… talks about people’s expectations and how her style of submission did not match one her previous partner’s style, and how it got to the point where it was causing her to question if she really was submissive. This, in turn, allowed her to be able to express her experience of submission. In both this post and her post titled Respect & Cherish, she explains how it is an active exchange for her. In the former, how she needs active dominance, that brings out her submission. In the latter, she also talks about how she wants her submission to be received. She respects the dominant and wishes, not to be respected in return, but cherished. She holds him in high regard, gives him authority, and wants, in return to receive the affection of being cherished.
So, what does this all mean to me? What did I get out of it?
It got me thinking about definitions, and words, expressions and active exchanges. I get caught up in labels sometimes. In my desire to feel special, to feel wanted, to feel important. To feel owned? I put a question mark there because the words were in my head, but I’m not sure what they mean to me right now. I look at M/s dynamics, at some of the 24/7 folk, and I know that isn’t what I want. But then we’re back to defining things by others’ standards. I don’t want to be a slave, well, except for in those masturbatory fantasies. But in reality, slave is not the right word for me. I like submissive, most days I like service submissive, but I’ve only ever been that to him. I’ve been told that is untrue, that my nature is to serve and assist people. But back to the question of active exchange, those “other people” are not ones I expect anything back from for my service. (Well, except my job which pays me to help people.) And maybe that’s how my expressions of service works, I do service for the joy of helping others, but I am a (service) submissive to him, because he gives back to me. I will not be submissive to someone who does not return with dominance. That does not mean that someone who tries to show me dominance automatically receives submission. I am not a door mat, I choose when to let my submission shine.
I think I went off track there, talking about service and submission. But what about that “owned” question? Perhaps “claimed” would be a better word. He once told me that he liked the fact that without outward symbols like a collar or a ring, everyone still knew I was his. I wrote recently about enjoying the word “my” from his lips. We all like to belong in society, and I also like to “belong” to my partners. We tease that sometimes his protectiveness turns into possessiveness, but sometimes, when I’m feeling lost, I like that possessiveness, too.
He and I have gone through many changes during our relationship. At one point, we were backing away from the D/s nature of things, to give ourselves time to heal from one of our biggest explosions. He was concerned that I would continue to do things for him, as was my nature, but might begin to resent the lower rate of return from him, as he worked to rebalance things. But even during the time when we had said “No D/s” at all, we never fully let it drop. We couldn’t, it is part of how we interact. It certainly changed tunes, from heavy metal down to classical piano, if you will, but it was still there, softly playing in the background. I look at FetLife labels every now and again. He and I removed our D/s labels back then, and after a while, set them to service labels. Sometimes I want those D/s labels back, some days, I really wish I had a collar. But then I look at our relationship, and I know we are still growing. I know that service is one of the biggest parts of our D/s relationship right now, and I know that there is a lot of road left to travel.
What about active exchanges? Sometimes I look at “In service to” and “Receiving service from” and I am annoyed by the passivity of the latter phrasing. Receiving can feel so one-sided, but it really isn’t, if you’re doing it right. If you are receiving a blow job, do you just sit there without moving or reacting? I hope not. If you are receiving a promotion, didn’t you work hard to get there, and now have to work harder to keep it? I hope so. If you are receiving an award, didn’t you do something to earn it? It is the same with us. Our relationship is a very active one, we both work hard to maintain it. I serve him in various ways, all of which he is sure to acknowledge and show gratitude for.
At one convention, his wife noted that when he gave me tasks, he didn’t always thank me for doing them. He replied that he wasn’t sure I wanted it. At the time, that type of verbal, immediate gratitude would have landed wrong. I would have been embarrassed to have my service publicly acknowledged. What he did do, was at the end of the weekend, catch me privately, and tell me how much he appreciated all my hard work and service to him. That made me feel so much better than twenty thank you’s scattered about throughout the weekend ever could have.
These days, it is often done both ways. Small thank you’s throughout an event are acknowledgments that make me smile, even when he is too busy to spend individual time. And then after an event, when there is time, the private gratitude and appreciation gives one big dose of warmth and love.
You might ask, but how is showing gratitude part of a D/s exchange? How is that returning my submission with dominance? I’ll have to go with Bendyogagirl on this one, it makes me feel cherished. I thrive on affection and acknowledgment. I serve him and he values that service, and both of those things build trust between us. That trust allows us to go further, for me to serve him in more ways, and for our relationship to continue to grow.
But what about “active dominance?” What about “put you on your knees, give over complete control to him” types of D/s exchange? We have that too, in our play. It isn’t something we maintain in our day to day relationship. That is an energetic ideal, but our respective available energy and time is nowhere near the ability to maintain that anymore. Would I like a little more of that flavor in our lives? Sure, I always want more out of life and work towards that, but the first step there is figuring out what works for us. Right now, saving most of this for our scenes is what works for us.
October 4th, 2012
We talk to each other every day. We communicate with people on many levels. We show our love and appreciation through both action and words. We say ‘I love you’ as often as we can. Sometimes, we say it so often, or so casually, that it loses its power. We even say it as a reflex when someone else says it. Other times, we get it right. We say it at the moment it is needed most, or by looking into their eyes and really meaning every word. We say it by our actions, a hug of support, a tender kiss, or by making a masochist cry.
A lot of people speak without thinking. Responding on reflex can get you through life, but we were given brains for a reason. Filtering our thoughts, really thinking about a question, being conscious of our replies, will get us a lot further. Some people go by the three questions: ‘Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?’ If you cannot answer at least two of these three with Yes, you probably don’t need to say it.
When you are in multiple relationships, it can be a hard balance to show everyone how special they are to you. When you’re having a threesome, sexual or just kinky play, it can be difficult for everyone to feel special, or unique. It takes careful thought, and a little extra effort, to give each person a little something just for that one.
Last night, he was hitting us both with the leather cocks. We have very different reactions, and processing mechanisms, but he was basically doing the same thing to each of us. What gave me a feeling of special was towards the end of the play, he looked at me and said “How is my pain slut doing?” This made me feel good on a couple levels. I always enjoy the possessiveness implied by “my” in phrases like that, I am his, and he is the only one I currently receive pain from, no one else. And “pain slut” was an acknowledgment of my enjoyment and arousal caused by the pain, which is very different than the engineer’s reaction. I’m not going to assume he necessarily meant all of that when he said it, but he knows me, and he often chooses his words to make me smile.
This morning was another example. As I was getting dressed and showing him the bruises, he looked at them and said “Now, those are big diamonds,” acknowledging one of my favorite Fetlife quotes: ‘Some girls get diamonds, my bruises are prettier.’ These bruises were his gifts to me, as my screams and moans, etc the night before, were my gifts to him. These are a particularly tender set of bruises, and I’ll enjoy them all the more. Most of mine don’t stay tender past a day, but these, I feel, will make me smile as I walk all through the weekend.
Be careful of words that you share with a partner. Just like the things that are personal to a relationship, words can be special, too. If there is a special nickname people use for each other, don’t assume you can use it, too. If you have a special call and response with a long-term partner, saying it to someone else can cause hurt feelings. If you are not sure, ask. Better to feel foolish than to trigger
September 27th, 2012
I don’t think I did justice to the topic of my journey into submission in my long rambling post. Not sure I really did justice to any of the topics I covered, but this one struck me especially. I talked more about my development over the last few years, mixed with a few popular questions of the day, around the cyclical nature of D/s and how a strong woman can be submissive. All those thoughts about control came much later, when I finally got the language for it. But how, exactly, did the submissive grow within me to start with?
Early desires, and my most guilty pleasures, revolve around over the knee spankings. I don’t know why this came about, but it started as early as grade school with an unhealthy(or so I thought) enjoyment of the poem The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. And in middle school blossomed into school girl fantasies that I very much enjoy to this day. With stops along the way to incorporate a Newsie spanking fantasy or two, as well.
This is where my submissive side started. A desire to bend, or be bent by, a person of authority. I was a good girl, I didn’t like causing real trouble, never got a detention, though I came close once, only got grounded once, I don’t even remember ever being spanked as punishment, though I’m sure I was when I was very young. But in these fantasies, I would get into mild trouble, and the person punishing me wouldn’t actually be angry, they’d simply be teaching me a lesson, usually in private. Punishing me for being “bad” or “naughty,” but without the public humiliation of being paddled in front of class, or others. And after I became a bit more sexually mature, I would always thank them for this lesson.
In grade school, we had a hierarchy among my friends. The one at the top of the pyramid could still the rest of us with a look, and usually a smile. I never wanted this power, but I certainly respected it. And fantasied about it. To be quelled and cowed with just a look. It made me shiver, it aroused me. It took me years to understand why. We gave him that control, and he used it, without abusing it, so he got to keep it. He ruled our part of the playground, but he was always kind and always fair. He took care of us, so we followed him. That exchange of power, so simple on the playground, and so much more powerful in a relationship, has always thrilled me. And for those who can express it with just a look, it still makes me shiver and smile.
I comment in the long rambling piece about meeting “strong men,” but what I really meant was strong dominants. Men can be strong without being sexually/kinkily dominant. And I met a woman, as well, who fit this role. I had a few boyfriends that were tops – we played physically, the only power exchange being that I was physically submitting to having things done to me. Usually things like biting, spanking, pinching, pressure points.
Then I met a couple of friends online, who, when they were dating, adopted me in a non-kinky RPG we were all playing. I still call him Daddy, or my Aussie Daddy, to this day, though it never was kink-related. When I lived with him for a (US) summer/(Australian) winter, he preferred Sir in our play. They taught me about what power exchange really felt like. I loved it, though many will say online isn’t the real thing, it was where I was first able to explore it. And explore it I did, in role play, in cybersex chats, in long-distance telephone calls. When I went to Australia, Daddy wasn’t active in the community, but we made the best of our time together. Our kink relationship was mostly physical, but I also enjoyed the bits of D/s we tossed in here and there, as well.
It was a long while before I found that again. Hubby, a sensualist, enjoyed the physical play I asked for, but D/s was not something we managed to figure out on our own. When we found the community, our explorations took different paths, as I found two dominant men that I was drawn to, and he found his own path to kink.
This blog tells the story of my journey since then, for the most part. Exploring different types of D/s and the different ways to submit and serve, learning about taking and giving control. I have tripped and fallen many times. I have had high expectations, and been crushed by reality. I have lost sight of the path and been shown the way back. I have run headlong into the darkness, and survived the fall. I have been taught, guided, chided and chastised. I have been cared for, comforted, crushed and rebuilt. I have been programmed and reprogrammed. I have experienced amazing scenes, awesome service, and incredible love, trust and understanding. Submission has always been inside of me, and these last four years have made it a rich part of my life.
September 27th, 2012
Friends of mine have been talking/puzzling about their lives not being what they expected them to be. For some, this is causing great distress. So, I decided to take a look at the question.
Growing up, what did I expect out of life?
When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut, doesn’t everyone? The stars held me in thrall. Then I found out that astronauts didn’t get to visit the stars, and sometimes their ships blew up, and I thought maybe I’d stay on earth til they got those things worked out.
Then I wanted to be a teacher. Until I found out that kids are cruel, and rude, and unmanageable sometimes. I thought maybe that wasn’t the best place for me, and maybe I didn’t even want to have my own.
So I turned back to the stars. I wanted to study them, from here on earth. Look out into them, and find the mysteries of the universe. Find other life. Figure out how life formed here. I was again in their thrall. But then I went to college, and calculus and E&M defeated me. So I turned away again.
To writing. I loved to read, it kept me entertained as a child, and I loved to write, to express myself in words, because my voice was so soft, and no one could interrupt me when I was typing or writing by hand. I could speak for myself in text, say anything and everything through writing. And I love it.
I work in a bookstore, because I love books. I love sharing knowledge, and helping people find the same joy in it that I did. I don’t teach, but I help them get the information they want. I do not go to the stars myself, but can help other people get there.
But those are only jobs and vocations, those are what I do. What did I expect out of Life?
Growing up in the church, I expected to stay in the church. I expected to be a good little UM girl all my life. To get married to a nice UM boy, and worship every Sunday, and be a part of projects and work groups. And then I got older, and there were politics, and other view points, and intolerance, and hate. My faith became more personal, less contained in a building, less constrained by specific doctrine. I still consider myself a Christian, because I feel I live by Jesus’s overriding message of Love. His words of love still speak to me, and I do my best to follow his example. I didn’t marry a nice UM boy, or even a nice Christian boy. But I did get married to a very Loving man. And to me, that is what is important.
But where did all this poly stuff come from? Surely that wasn’t “in the plan.” No, growing up, I expected to have a husband, forsaking all other so long as we both shall live. It was even in our vows. Promised before family and god. But that doesn’t seem very loving to me. To Forsake others? I didn’t date anyone in High School, but my college relationships were rife with flavors of poly. Not my first, he was a good Christian boy. But most of the ones after that. I didn’t have the understanding, let alone the language for it at the time, though. My second, still in love with his HS sweetheart, cheated on me and left me for her. I often played with him after that, even with a third friend sometimes, and still love him, though not in a romantic way. My third, had a ‘zip code rule’ that I always rolled my eyes at, but he and I had off and on things, despite his other relationships. My fourth, well, he was an odd bird, and I was trying to get back with others during that time as well. Hubby came into play that year as well, as someone I loved, but couldn’t be with. Then my fifth and sixth, openly admitting to love for hubby while dating them. Playing with others while things with hubby went up and down and round about. But things were so messy, that when I got back with Hubby after college, I made the mono-demand.
Which lasted just over three years, until we both started falling for others. My experiment exploded, so I returned to a state of poly=pain, and agreed to swinging. That didn’t go very well, either, and then we found the community here, and I softened and fell, back into poly, where I truly belong. This time, with resources, and language, and experienced people, who taught me to communicate, and to thrive in this lifestyle. Oh, it still goes up and down and sideways, but I am far better equipped to deal with it now, and far more able to accept the bumps and bruises, and keep on swimming.
That was the important lesson to me. It isn’t about trying to keep my head above water, that’s just a lot of thrashing around to keep from drowning, but you never move forward doing that. I’ve learned to keep on swimming, forward, through the waves, and tides. The only way up is forward, and it attracts fewer sharks if you swim fluidly forward than if you thrash around hoping to be rescued.
So, was this what I expected out of my love life? No. But it is certainly what fits me. Love, and plenty of it. To keep me going along my way.
But life is not just job and relationships. What about this kink stuff that fills my waking hours? What about the natural world and the stars I loved so much?
I grew up loving the outdoors. Going camping, going hiking, stargazing. Sitting by campfires, singing songs and exploring the woods. It is still my refuge. When things get too much. When I need to unwind. When I just need to get away. I go to the woods. I walk through the forest, I lie in the grass, I sit by the brook. Nature is still in my veins, but people now fill my heart.
I didn’t have a lonely childhood, in my mind. I had friends, I enjoyed school. I went to parties. But I didn’t have a Lot of friends, I didn’t do the social butterfly thing. I had a couple best friends. That I would spend most of my time with. I never expected this to change, and it hasn’t. I have kept my best friends, from HS and College, but they are far away. I have made a few more since, but not many. And it is with these friends that I spend my time. It is kink and poly that brought me to these new friends. And geekdom. I still do the geek-thing, gaming every week, and a group that goes to geek conventions and throws parties monthly. But the latter are also a part of my poly and kinky circles, too.
I’ve always had a kinky bone in my body, though, I didn’t know it at first. Or at least not what to call it. I found it fairly fast, though, when I got old enough. Kink, I discovered, made sense to me, and was something I wanted in my life. It became part of my regular life with my second boyfriend, growing with my fifth, and really expanding when I met daddy online, and then in person, though I didn’t find community until nearly a year after hubby and I moved back here, only just over four years ago. I tried once, just before we go married, but a missed connection kept us at bay for four years, due to moving out of state after the wedding. Kink, though, once I understood what it was, has always been an expected part of my life. And I am grateful for the people who have guided me, advised me, played with me, and taught me. Navigating the kinky community, and one’s kinky self takes a lot of work and skills that are not necessarily the norm in regular society. And it has also given me an outlet for my early desires to teach and my later desires to write. These things are a part of me and kink keeps them in my life.
What about submission? How does that fit in with my life expectations?
Did I grow up thinking about how wonderful it would be to be controlled? How much I wanted a man to tell me what to do? How much I wanted to serve him? No. I grew up learning to be an independent, free-thinking, self-reliant woman. I went away to college, I went to Ireland alone, I went to Australia to meet daddy. I moved out of the house when I got back. I found a job, I supported myself. Sometimes I fell down, and needed some help, but I was mostly independent of my parents. I got married and moved away. No longer singularly independent, but still in control. In charge of my life, working now as a couple, to be successful. So, where did this submissive desire come from? How does it fit into my life expectations?
In my kink, it has always felt like the natural role for me. At first, it was a desire to be done to, as I think it usually is. I wanted to receive all these sensations, I desired to be spanked, to be pinched, to be bitten, to be held down, to be bound. So in control, so strong, so independent. I wanted it to be taken away. At first, I wanted to know that these things were okay. That I could still be strong and independent, and in control, even though I wanted and liked these things. I didn’t have control over what turned me on, but I wanted to know that I was still in control of myself and my world. My body, my RA, took some of that control away from me, so I gained a desire to control the pain I experienced. I wanted to have the pain that I wanted, not that my body just threw at me. These things came first.
Then I met strong, dominant men, and it wasn’t just about play anymore. It wasn’t just about top and bottom. It was about Dom and sub. It was about being able to give up control, giving them control, and the freedom I found in doing so. Not just in giving to them, but in receiving as well. The give and take, the cyclical relationship, that requires love and trust and work to maintain. It feels good to submit to those I have chosen to submit to because they chose to dominate me in return. One-sided relationships happen, but they are not fulfilling in the long run. The joy and fulfillment I found in submission, blossomed from curiosity to expectation and is a part of my life I do not ever want to be without.
Expectations change as life changes us. But once we find those things that make our lives wonderful and whole, it no longer matters what we once thought we would be or do. It is what we are now, what makes us happy and fills our lives that matters most. No use worrying about what we thought would be, stay in the present, work for what you want now. Not what you thought you should have. If I’d stuck with my original plan, I’d be pretty much out off luck now, NASA’s ended the shuttle program. Expectations are helpful, but don’t let them stay stagnant while life changes all around you.