Questioning Master

Busy day off.  Izrina and I working side by side on some things.. I love that.  The feeling that I am making progress on a project, and I have someone with me that shares in the work and the goal.

I wanted to do something special afterward.  Izrina suggested sandwiches by a favorite wildness spot with water and views.  But projects had setbacks and by the time we were ready to get that looked forward to lunch, it was late, and I was starving.  So I decided we should just go to a diner or buffet instead.  Izrina did that thing she does when she isn’t happy with one of my decisions.  She has a way of making it known she isn’t happy, without saying it.. which frankly pisses me off.  But I also don’t make decisions based on that.. I reflect first.

I did promise some special time, and she had been such a good girl up until our break. So I decided what the hell, I could wait a little longer for lunch.  It would take a while to get the food together, and get to our spot, but patience is a virtue, and a happy slave is something that makes me smile.

Now she had a new problem.  She wouldn’t be able to enjoy the time because I wasn’t doing what I wanted to do.  Oh boy!  Talk about your classic slave mistakes.  Usually a Master’s response to questioning a decision is something along the lines of: Since when did you get to decide, what I wanted?

It is a classic problem though.  A slave wishes to please.  So when a Master decides to say do the cooking.. a slave has to just stand by and accept that if Master wants to do his or her own cooking..so be it.  There is always that question running in the back of a slaves mind.. is Master doing this because he or she wants to?  That is a bad mistake, but every slave has made it as some point.

If you are dealing with a true Master, one who is honest with themselves and you, and who knows in their heart that they are not allowing themselves to be manipulated, then the answer to that question is always the same.  I do what I want.  Nothing can change that.  If I seek to please my slave, or I choose to do some task myself, it is because I have decided I want to.  I will NEVER do something I don’t want to, just because a slave resisted. If I want something, and there is resistance, I will deal with that resistance head on.

Its a tricky thing.  We have negotiations, and hard limits, and bad days.  Even the most seasoned Master has days when it best to give a wide berth.  And slaves are no different.  Not that there is a good excuse for leaving your sacred role. The side of your dynamic that feeds your partner is food they need.  Yes, outside pressures can influence you and your sacred role.  The trick is to not let the outside, reach the inside of your pleasure center, your dynamic.

And then there are the times when the dynamic itself, on the inside is disturbed.. When that which is a constant source of pleasure isn’t right.  Like Star Wars.. you feel a disturbance in the force.  I happens when you are not sure if you are doing what you should do.  Like when you question a Masters decision. You know you should not second guess if the Master served is truly happy with the slave, but you do.

The key, on the slave’s side is to let go of that concern.  It is not your concern if the Master makes decisions for their happiness or not.  It is simply not your concern.  Making decisions is what a Master does and if you are gong to question this, you might not be ready to serve at all.  You are there to bring pleasure and service to the Master you serve.  Trust this.  A person who is a Master in the core of their being, will always use you, within the limits you have negotiated.

The key on the Master’s side is to make good decisions, and then not worry about them.  Good decisions will bring good results and bad decisions are part of life.. we use them to learn from.  We follow our desire, but also our duty to improve the lives of our slaves.  If we want a blowjob, we order it.. no indecision.. no second thoughts.  Step up and be a Master or stop calling yourself one.  And beyond sex, your slave is there for every desire you have.. if it is not breaking a hard limit, take it when you want it.  Your slave is there for your pleasure and service.  Be a Master.  Many slaves will leave if you do less.

This is our sacred roles.  Its not a game.  It is not a part time fantasy.  For many of us, this is the air we breath, it is what gives us life.  Without a partner that understands this need, we are unfulfilled, and hungry.  Like a starving animal, we are ravenous for that interaction that fills us with the fire of life.

When you meet someone who fulfills this need, we unlock something deep down inside. And if you strike up a serious relation with someone that has unlocked this need, it becomes a promise.  How very sad then for the slave who meets the 90 day Master.. one who is perfect for the first 90 days but can’t sustain the control because after the novelty wears off, so too does the level of attention and control.

That or it become all about sex.. the slave is just there for sex and absolutely none of the rest of it is present.. no concern for the care, development, or improvement of the slave.. none of the work a Master should do. None of those hot little DS moments where its all about the control.

You know you are with a real Master or slave when 90 days later, there is still a desire to give more control, a drive to take more control.  This is the time when we see how deep the rabbit hole goes.  The truth is, we who desire this, are constantly trying to perfect our oneness.. our connection of wills..

As we drove away from our little picnic, Izrina said:  That was nice.  I said.. You have to trust that I will always do what I want.  We settled into chit chat about this and that.  I took a different way home, another little mini-adventure for our day.. no rush.  Side roads with lower speed limits.  We started to talk about the houses we passed.. which ones we like or didn’t and why.  It was a very pleasant day.

Just a few thoughts, brought on by the events of today.  Carpe Diem my friends.. be someones great day.

 

 

Crazy hours and rabbit holes

I have been working simply crazy hours.  I haven’t taken a day off in three weeks.  Hell, I was supposed to take of Friday, but then this happened and that.  Been working at the computer at home, while Izrina plays on Xbox.

I am not complaining.  I like the sense of accomplishment. I also like that Izrina doesn’t complain about the time she loses to the job.  She understands and supports what I need to do to succeed at work.

Oddly, in spite of all the time lost today, she was extremely warm.  She had that “I love you madly” vibe just oozing out of her.   When I finally got home, I collapsed on the couch, and she stroked my hair as I napped.  I had been a twelve hour overnight marathon, and a stress feast to boot.  I was nice to lie there and just soak up the love.

The other night she prepared something new and didn’t want me to peek at the ingredients while she prepared.  It was spaghetti squash.  I’ve made spaghetti squash many times, but its always vegetarian.  She made this one with a mix of veggies and crumbled hamburger.  It was delicious.

This week I’ll be away from her for a week, and frankly I am thinking I am going to have a bad case of Master withdrawal.  Thank God I’ll meet up with some kinky friends in Vegas, or I might just go mad!

Tonight I called for my smoking jacket and pipe.   At least my version of it.  I dearly love my property.  She is such a good girl… and she gets better at being a good slave, every day.

There is a line in the movie: The Matrix.. Or you stay in Wonderland and see how deep the rabbit hole goes… the BDSM life is like that.  Its a process.  Everyday we discover just a little more, how much we two can become one.  Instead of saying I love you, I often say or text 221.  It means.. two to one.. or two become one.   My will is her will, she comes more and more an extension of my plans and desires every day.  It can be a little frightening, this elimination of boundaries, but it is also incredibly satisfying and intensely powerful, this sense of oneness.

Carpe Diem my friends.. Go be someone’s great day.

 

 

Paradoxs and random stuff

My slave isn’t perfect, which makes her just perfect for me.  One of those paradoxes life is riddled with.  Sounds odd I know, but if there wasn’t anything for me to fix, what would I do with my life?  And now on to some just plain random stuff.

First a little discussion on language.  If you are a protector, the person you protect is your “charge”.   If you mentor a person that person has two possible names: mentee, or protege.  I prefer protege.  Mentee sounds too much like mental.. or manatee, neither of which is flattering.

I have been working unGodly hours.  I keep an old fashioned notebook at my desk and I jot down my hours each day.  I’m on salary, so when I hit 55 hours, I stopped totaling the numbers.. but I still kept the daily notes.  I just didn’t want to know how bad it was.  Gotta be over 60 hours this week.

I worked both Saturday and Sunday, my days off.  Izrina was at work and I could be home before she got there, but there is something terribly masochistic feeling about not taking relaxant time you are entitled to.   Part of your brain is screaming.. why are letting them abuse you like this?   But on the plus side, the feeling of accomplishment is quite nice.  If you don’t feel like you are getting somewhere, its hard to find pleasure from accomplishment.  That’s why as a boss, its important to impart a sense to your employees that their contributions are making a difference.  You have to be careful not to tread on that..  The key is to motivate by acknowledging accomplishment, results, and progress.

Looks like I am headed for another business trip to Vegas.  I bet by the end of my trip I am as melancholy as when I wrote The last bacardi in Las Vegas.  A week is a long time for a Master to be without a slave.

On the plus side, some friends from California are talking about visiting on the weekend, which will probably mean one or two nights of diner together and maybe some more fun with floggers.  I don’t think I am even going to try hooking up with the night owls this year.  It was so much effort, and so disappointing, that I just am not interested.  Fuck it.

The other night, Izrina and I got to bed at what.. 10:30, asleep by 11:00.  Alarm went off at 4:30 and she was dead tired.  Got outside and it was raining.. not good for a pleasant horseback ride.   Then she texted me that the migraine from hell had set in.  I mentioned that I would definitely have a hot tub waiting for her, but she said she would rather just shower and collapse in bed.  Ok, we can do that.   Now, I used to keep her up all night at dungeons and bars until she ran her car off the road.  Now I make her get sleep.  So I was really concerned about her getting to and from work with so little sleep.  Well 6:15 came and went and I started to get nervous.  She gets off work at 5:30.  Finally at 7:00 I get a text she is leaving. WTF!   I was really started to get nervous about her, and her new car.  Turns out, it was the last day for one of the girls at work, and they went out for a drink afterward.  Grrrr!  She was quick to apologize, and after I got done scolding her, she said quite simply in a meek voice.. Yes, Master.  Dammit.  I always just melt when she gets all apologetic and meek and especially when the “Yes Master” comes out.   When she got home, I made her fix me some supper, and put away the dishes.  If there was time for a beer with the girls, there was time for Master to get some service too.  THEN, I let her collapse.  We got it all done with enough time for her to get seven hours.. her regular amount of sleep.  Like I said at the start.. she’s not perfect, but that makes her perfect for me.  Hmmmm.  I really gotta get that girl into a real job, with human hours.

Anyway, that’s the latest updates from living with X.  Carpe Diem my friends.. you know what to do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neglected Master

I was speaking with my friend and protege, and I lamented that I just didn’t have any material to blog about.  And then as we talked on a number of subjects, a few presented themselves.  Not the least of which was how much we look forward to when our slaves will get home.

With that realization comes once again the appreciation of just how happy our BDSM lives are in stark contrast to so many unhappy nilla relations.  My protege for example, not so long ago tried to live the politically correct nilla lifestyle and was miserable.  Now he AND his wife are much happier.  I really do think we have something to share with the world.. something that others might benefit from.  What we DO might not be for everyone, but what we know is.

While some might find our Master and slave obsessions to be destructive to their ideals of equality and rights, that is a misnomer.  To practice consensual slavery is to start from a place in which equality is a given, so apparent as to not to even be questioned.

True, some less enlightened souls, new to BDSM, think every white woman wants to be a submissive.  Every black woman is a natural dominant.  That men don’t desire to be a slave.  These neophytes quickly learn or are soon shunned.  It it only takes a little time mingling in the community to quickly be put straight.  People are individuals and only when we walk into a room as equals, can we begin the serious and important work of finding out who we are, and what we need, no matter our race or gender identification.

But from that place of equality, equity of happiness is sought as the higher goal.  We start from equality, and negotiate those things that will bring us happiness, in exchange for that which brings others happiness, and we do not let social standards influence that negotiation.  Logic dictates that if we can be mutually happy with another person, what we do together to achieve that mutual happiness should not be determined by society at large.

But I digress… It was a long day.  I started early to get a jump on the backlog at work.  I like to make myself available, to the degree that I can, for employees who need me.  It often leads to skipping lunch and on this day I missed my chance to speak with Izrina during her lunch break.  She would be working a long day herself since she had agreed to take a coworker’s evening shift as well, so it was important for me to catch her at her supper break.. which again I could not do thanks to pressing matters at work.  Such is the nature of my business.  Sometimes it takes precedence.  My slave is required to understand this.

So by the time I wrapped up and got home, I was very anxious to get a little Master/slave time.  I have probably mentioned this many times, but when Izrina gets in, she smells of horse shit.  She is required to put her clothes in a plastic bag right away, but the smell is still there. It may be perfume for horse lovers, but not for me.

If there was time, I usually have a bath drawn for her to unwind in.  She always has a suduko book by the tub and she will puzzle away for 60 minutes or so before she gets to a shower, and then comes out of the bathroom.  So I am usually waiting 60 to 90 minutes.

Well I was impatient, since it had already been a long day, and I was really looking forward to my Master-slave time.  I had already made myself something to eat.  The clock just seemed to drag on as she puttered away.  So when she finally came out all pink, clean, and smelling fresh in something silky, I was feeling neglected.

Neglected and just a bit grumpy.  So as I sat there, hoping she would turn to me like a good slave and ask if I needed anything, instead she heated up some pizza, and picked out a book to read with her late supper.  Now I was a slow caldron brewing.  Finally I said it.

I feel neglected..  I said.  She turned with big doe eyes, blinked.  I think we may need more protocols, I said..  And she replied,  We already have enough protocols. 

GAME ON!  Yeah, my first instinct was to think.. I am the Master.. I’ll make those decisions, thank you very much.

But then I thought about it.   You know, when you as a Master are unhappy, its probably because you haven’t acted like a Master.  Some time later, with a sly grin, I told Izrina, you are absolutely right.  Next time you are in the shower, and that drink that you are to  keep cold and filled runs out, I am going to drag you out of the shower to refill the damn thing.

As I related all this story to my protege, he chuckled.  I am pretty sure some other devilish Ds ideas will come of this.  It really comes down this.. if you are going to be Master, act like a Master.

And how you may ask, will this fit into that better way of having a relationship?  What exactly is so pleasant about the thought of dragging someone out of their warm and relaxing shower, all wet and naked to the kitchen, only to have them make you a drink you could have gotten yourself.. and then serve it to you kneeling with their head bowed?  If you have to ask then no explanation is probably possible and if you don’t, none is needed.  Just know this.. for we who would do this, it would be a pretty hot and exciting moment, that just might lead to more fun that evening.

Carpe Diem my friends..  go seek your happiness.  You will most likely find it by being someone’s great day.

 

 

 

 

The house and the rose

High on a hill among the brambles, weathered boards looked down on a town that somewhat feared the old house.  Occasional y a song bird would land on the roof as inside, dust fell.   It was said that on certain nights a light could be seen coming from the upper floor.  Even teenagers full of wild ways dared not take more than a few steps inside.

So when a young couple moved into town they had none of this knowledge.  The young man was lean, with blond hair and a wild look in his eyes.  His bride was a beauty, and the two of them took an apartment in town and counted their pennies.  They were friendly with neighbors and gained a reputation for being polite and sensible.

So when the old place went up for auction and the young man expressed an interest in buying the old house on the hill, people though he had lost his mind.  Better some unsuspecting investor from another town should squander their money on the old place than this lovely couple.

The day of the auction came and as expected, speculators hoping to pick up a bargain drove the price up and up.  The couple followed as best they could with what little they had saved in their few years as adults.  When the gavel sounded and the place was sold, it was a moment they could scarcely believe.  The house on the hill would be their new home.

They attacked the dust as only eager youth can, and underneath they found fine wood banisters and floor planks laid with with care…. each one carefully counter drilled, fastened, plugged with a thousand wooden dowels and then sanded to perfection.  In short order with some cleaning, mending, and some paint, the old house was beautiful. The people in the town came by finally with house warming gifts that were brought inside hesitatingly, for fear some ghost might still be lurking.

Indeed, on an occasional morning as the sun filtered through the shades of the dining room, the young man could swear he saw two lovers seated at the table.  Perhaps it was a trick of the sunlight filtering through the dust that they always seemed to clean, or maybe he was just sleeping still and needed coffee.  What ever it was, it was a benign thing, loving and harmless.  It seemed to the couple that someone long ago had loved deeply and passionately in this place and then left it just for them.

In the bedroom was an old full length mirror and it changed the life of the man forever.  On the day that he and his bride has set out to clean the old house, he had come forewarned of the mysterious light that was reported to have brightened the second floor.  And as he approached the mirror on that first day he approached it with some fear.  And as he got closer, he felt his fear multiply and the more he feared the worse it got, so much so that he felt he must smash the mirror but something stopped him.  It was his wife who approached the mirror and instantly loved it.

And as his wife approached the mirror she fell ever more in love with it and when she came up behind him, his heart nearly stopped from the fear.  and he described what he had felt, and then she described her feeling and they puzzled this… over and over.. until they realized the mirror reflected more than images… it also reflected feelings.

And as with any couple they had their good days and bad days, but when ever they had a bad day, the mirror would reveal to them exactly what they were doing to the other.. and so they learned over time to only love each other better.  In time, never a cross word came across their lips until on one night as they entered the bedroom, full of love for each other the mirror burst forth with a bright light.. the light of their love.

Now the couple understood the source of the light that had scared the town folk and why no one dared enter very far into the house… and you would think that is the end of the story and that they would live happily ever after.. but it is NOT the end.

Because on the day the mirror shown so brightly, a hidden compartment in it’s base opened and in that compartment was a bible.  All of this was really quite too much, but the couple was beyond fear and they gingerly took the book from its hiding place and inside was a rose and some papers.  The papers spoke of the couple who had built the place and of their love for each other, and of the love that had seeped into every corner of the house… but no more than the mirror where they often sat and looked lovingly at each other.

The young couple puzzled over what to do, it was agreed to add more pages to those already there.. the story of their own love and how it had grown in this marvelous house.  Then they returned the Bible to its hiding place and closed the compartment which sealed without a trace.  They never figured out again how to open it.  The rose, all pressed and preserved, was trapped outside, so  they took and buried out in the back yard..  and again you would think that the end of the story, but it is not.

It was spring and the ground was still covered with melting snow when she first spotted it from the kitchen window.  There where they buried the rose, a bush was growing up through the snow.  And by the time the flowers of spring were blooming a full size rose bush had grown where they buried the long dead rose.  So the husband built an arbor and that summer they had the most beautiful roses anyone in town had ever seen.  And more amazing, song birds seemed drawn to the arbor and filled the mornings and evenings with sweet music.  Now, surely you must think that is the end of the tale.. but you know better than that.. love is eternal and the stories we make with the ones we love, really have no end.

 

Carpe Diem my friends..  Love someone well…

Insanity, plus slaves in skirts

If you read Trouble in “X town” ~ with hair! then you know my concern with my slave and skirts.  Basically, I’m weird.  I like Izrina to keep soft, unshaven hair on her legs but then she needs to shave if she is going to wear a skirt.

And if you read MINE! …. (mine) and were paying attention, you noticed that Izrina got a new car and to pick it up, she wore a skirt so we could go to a celebration dinner after we picked up the car.

Now, no one pointed out the obvious problem in these two things, which sort of surprised me.  I thought that at least one comment would have a question mark in it.


 

She’s had the car a few days now, and as life does, the new and exciting blends into everyday boredom.  Its a trap that we all fall into.   We build and then hope that which we build will stand forever but it never does.  We clean and we hope that which is neat, tidy, and organized will stay that way but it never does.  We paint, mend, and repair but there is always more to do.  We diet and exercise, but it always requires more work to maintain.

And then we complain.  Hmmmm  well others complain.  Not me.  I’m weird after all.  I’m the pink monkey in the cage.  I stand out and its the tallest nail that gets hammered first, its the tallest blade of grass that gets cut first, its the fastest growing hedge that gets trimmed to look like all the others…. first.  All good reasons to not stand out.

But then I think.. its the second mouse that gets the cheese.  You just have to be smart about these things.  I went to work on my day off yesterday and it was fine.  No complaints here.  Going to work on my day off was better than OK, it was good.  Some might think that’s a little insane.  I would argue, that if you won’t do the work to find your happy place, the perspective that lets you love life no matter what it brings, then you are the insane one.

Izrina had to work anyway, and there was a mountain of work that needed doing that I didn’t have time for on Friday, and I was still home in time to draw a bath for my weary slave to unwind in.  We had a nice evening after she prepared supper, and though she had to be up at 4:30, and our evening of dinner and a movie ran a little late no dishes were left in the sink.

Now I could complain about how busy our lives are but I did not.  I didn’t even need to correct my thinking a little.  I was happy.   Happy and pleased.  There is nothing like the sense of accomplishment to turn work into pleasure.  It is like exercise.  You know its going to suck and you know you are too tired to start but when you are done you suddenly have more energy than when you set out to tire yourself.  Work with a great attitude is like that.  I have trouble sometimes getting started on a thing.. but here is what helps with that..

To help you get started on a thing, think ahead to the satisfaction you will feel when its done. You won’t always beat back the power of procrastination, but this trick has often come to my rescue. ~ Xtac quote

So the day ended well, but there was one thing I needed to do still.  Izrina was on the couch and I pulled up our little foot rest and stared her down.  She gave that little nervous look she does, when she is not sure if I am going to be speaking “with her”, or “to her”.  The difference is important, since our protocols call for her to look down when I speak “to her”.   I told her to stand and remove her jeans.  She looked puzzled, but she is a slave after all and rose to comply.   And as she stood there, jeans around her ankles, wondering what evil I was up to, I ran my hand up from her ankles and commented.. “hmmm nice soft hair.”

Now when she came out in a skirt a few days before, she had a smile on her face.  And of course I had said there were only two choices.. keep the hair and wear jeans, or shave for a dress.  But this minx decided to prove me wrong.  I did not however give her the satisfaction of observing that at the time.

It has been said that revenge is a dish best served cold.  Well, I am hear to tell you that many of life’s lessons and pleasure share this observation.  Just when she had forgotten her cleverness, just when she had decided to believe that I had not noticed her solution, THEN was the time to compliment her.

So as I ran my hand across her soft hair, I commented.  “You wore a dress the other day.”  Now it dawned on her where I was headed with this and a broad smile crossed her face.  Master HAD noticed.. She said simply, “yes.. tall leather boots with a longer skirt.”

“Clever girl”, I said and rose to hug her.  And there it was.  Another mini Ds moment with all the trimmings – The orders, the sudden fear, the submission, the sudden surprise, the pleasure.  Its the little things that can make your day.

If you hate what you do.. be it your job or the constant maintenance, I would say you need to rethink that.  It is all part of life and life is too short to spend it hating any part of life.  There is always something to take pleasure from.. if you put your mind in the right frame, if you choose a perspective that allows you to draw pleasure from pain.  If anyone can do that, its the BDSM community, so my friends.. go forth.. seize this day.. make it yours… and draw pleasure from your accomplishments, and let at least one of those accomplishments be, that your were someone great day!

 

 

MINE! …. (mine)

The word escapes my lips before I even realize I was thinking it..  Like teenagers with puppy dog eyes that can’t help but say “I love you”, over and over until you want to throw up… because you have begun to wonder if the words have any meaning any more, the words just burst forth in this gushing emotional sap.

She lies beside me, recumbent in her delicious submission, my hands explore, traveling up her calve, her thigh, until my hand cups that delicious crease where generous buttocks meets leg and then the word escapes my lips…. mine!

Like those insipid teenagers I find myself all too often speaking this word that expresses my feeling before I have even thought out what it is I want to say.  Mine!  I have been thinking about this word, and what it means to me and why it fits so perfectly.

We are after all Master and slave.  Izrina is first and foremost my property.  The word “mine” fits into the context like a surgeons glove.  The word “mine” is so Ds it hardly needs explanation.

In a nilla relation, I might be called “possessive”.  That’s a description with a negative connotation.  And yet when I say it in this relation it warms us both.. She is mine and she loves this, that I value her above all else I own.  She is my treasure, my prize, my greatest desire.  All of these feelings that well up inside.. to have, to own, and to be owned.. it wraps up into a ball of greedy desires for more… its the passion of teenagers.. its the lust of wanton lovers.. its all that and more.  I don’t know how to say it any more plainly…. but the word “mine” says it all for me.  It says what “I love you” only begins to touch upon.

And as I think about these things, and the negative side that some might see in being “possessive”, I wonder which of us is more correct?  Certainly there are aspect of the way I am, the way that we are, that worry people.

I felt Izrina wasn’t being respected and treated fairly by an auto dealer, so I got on the phone with him.  Now in some circles, people would think I am “that” kind of guy.. the violent one who gets in everyone’s face and thinks he can bully people that do not treat his girl well.  Izrina was worried that I would be rude to him.  I was not.

Well, in my way of thinking, I was not.  I simply wanted him to make her a priority, and make sure he was working with her, on her schedule.   She can’t just have her phone startling her horse while she is out on the trails.  Plus she has very long days that start early and end late.  Plus, he definitely didn’t want her in his showroom smelling of horse shit, so…. It was in everyone’s interest to make sure he didn’t miss her next window of opportunity.  All of which I pointed out in my best behavior, salesman to salesman manner.  It was in everyone’s interest for him to find a way to fit her schedule, into his.

Speaking of which, she has a new car.  She had time to get a shower and put on a dress, and still pick it up after work.  Afterward we had dinner out..  a little min-celebration.  She looked stunning of course.. mine!

Carpe Diem my friends..  Go be someone’s great day!

Trouble in “X town” ~ with hair!

Ok.. not big trouble, but its something to work on.  Izrina has what she insists is a hard limit.. no humiliation.  Simple enough.  I won’t dress her in diapers or pee on her, as fun as that might be.. but its not that simple.

I am a wild extrovert.  I strike up conversations all the time, and I dress in a flamboyant way that evokes conversation.  I rarely go a day without striking up a conversation with someone completely strange.  Strange to me when we started, but I rarely walk away without leaving a smile.. or at least them shaking their heads.  The conversations vary wildly..


 

It was a sunny day in NYC and Izrina and I were strolling with friends a few stories above street level on the winding park that is the NYC highline. <check the link!  A small cloud cover had cooled the setting sun and we found a comfortable corner bench near a water cooler under some trees.  Sitting next to us were three mature women and they commented on my boots and the conversation was started.  At one point I opened the conversation to BDSM and two showed interest but one stood up… body language that signaled to me that she was uncomfortable.. but one was very interested.

It turned out that these ladies were from the middle east, and one woman point out that she wore a ring with a ring on it.. which of course heralds back to “The story of O”.    I admitted that I was a Dominant and that Izrina was my slave, and perhaps I crossed a line but I added that my two friends were also starting a life of BDSM.  Well.. having come this far the questions and discussion quickly become what you can well imagine were something that others might not want their children to hear, so we spoke in vague words and hushed voices.

I mentioned visiting paddles, a BDSM club up on 26th Street,  but they were leaving tomorrow.. a shame.  Now all of this seems innocent enough, but it is the very kind of thing that can trigger Izrina’s childhood fear of being humiliated.  As her owner, I feel it is my right to disclose whatever I please in these spontaneous conversations that pop up all the time… and in that I will never change.  Being outgoing is at the heart of who I am.  I can not imagine myself not engaging with any person at any time I choose.  To put a leash on that part of me would be self destructive on a level I am not will to even contemplate.

But I can and do judge my audiences, and temper my conversations to match their interest and such.. and I can and do make judgements about what it appropriate to share, including judgments about what might cause Izrina’s humiliation trigger to flare.  Understand that she is very, very private.  She never talks about herself, even in sub support groups. It is one of my great Master challenges to improve on her ability to speak about herself with others.  So I choose what I will reveal, and she needs to learn to suck it up.. to deal with the fact that as Master I will choose what I wish to reveal about our life together.

The way she deals with “sucking it up” is often poor.  She becomes more quiet and sulks and glares and tends to bang things.  She is not verbally defying, but her non-verbal communication makes it clear she is unhappy.

Normally I am OK with this behavior but since it came out recently when she was supposed to be on her best behavior, I am really going to have to reel that in.

When she is doing her non-verbal, “I am unhappy thing”, She is still obedient, and quick to comply, but when she starts these non-verbal objections it is then time to talk.  I can’t remember a time that I apologize or reversed a decision.  If I thought I was going to trigger one of these, I would have done it consciously.  I can’t remember ever doing it on purpose, and there lies the heart of the problem.  What she thinks I should see as a trigger, I do not.  Nor am I going to change.  She will have to.  Now THAT is a thing.

Now that I think about it, there have been a time or two when I have hinted at something she would prefer I not blog about.  Today I am going to blog on something that I know she has clearly stated she would prefer I not talk about.  We will deal with it.  I want to talk about it, so I am going to.  Chalk it up to me working on this.

This has to do with hair.  I love hair.  I love the feel of it, the smell of it.  I insist on long hair, that I can grab, hold, bury my face into, and enjoy.  Now hair around her pussy I like shaved, except for a small tuft above.. a landing strip.. something neat and trimmed like a small wedged arrow pointing to the “insert pleasure here” spot.

But when it comes to leg hair, I am weird.  I like long, soft leg hair.  I know this is wildly un-American.  I believe this is more of a European thing, but having never crossed the Atlantic, I can’t say I have personal experience.

I see the value in shaving the legs though.. it reveals the curves and muscles and allows you to admire a shapely well formed and exercised leg.   Ah, but at night in bed as you run your fingers over a beloved body, enjoying the sense of touch and the feeling of warmth in connecting and being connected to, hair plays a different role.  I like the feel of soft silky hair on legs.

As a cowgirl in jeans, my command to not shave her legs works quite well.  She can feel sexy even when she know that others might not agree, but there comes a time when I want her in a dress..

Now a dress is meant to show of legs and then we have a problem.  To put on a dress means that she has to shave off all that lovely hair and then there is the period of rough stubble and such a long time before the softness returns.

This is all something you can see and amazingly, as interesting as this conversation may seem, Izrina would have preferred I not go there.  I find it fascinating fodder for conversation..  what do other think of this?  Does anyone else have this issue and how do you deal with it, and what do you think?

Opening the door to discussion is to me logical.. and important..  I suppose on this one area, we started out being both compatible, and incompatible.   My need to talk about anything and everything makes us a perfect fit.  She can sit quietly and listen, and later when we are alone I will hear her thoughts.. yes.. they come quite easily later when we are alone.  We are perfectly compatible until I hit a trigger.. then we are not compatible.

I seem to stumble upon a trigger at least once a month.  Ha!  and not just at that time of the month.. so that’s not it.  It is an area I need to change in her.  I am working on it.  And I am going to work on the nonverbal communication too.

Anyway, if you have some thoughts on leg hair, let it fly.. I am curious if I am really, really weird, or just a little.

Carpe Diem my friends..

 

 

Love and BDSM

You don’t need Love for BDSM.  In fact, for some people they explicitly don’t want a Master or slave relation tainted by love.   For some, love is a detractor to the relation.  They want the unfettered cold hand of control with a sense that the person wielding the power is not troubled in the least by any inconvenience their command may create.

That is not entirely me.  I mix spirituality with my BDSM.  For me, the control is about creating a loving relationship in which we both blossom, nurtured by optimum conditions.  I am that hopeless romantic, ever believing that it is possible to find a soul mate, that ideal relationship in which two people thrive off ever increasing contact.

I have had my phoenix moments.  A time when a BDSM relationship ended and I fell into a burning downward spiral of self destruction.  We speak of aftercare in our all glorious search to treat those in our care righteously, but we don’t speak enough of relationship aftercare.. the caring of those who are caught in that vicious treadmill of questioning where the relationship went wrong.. what they could have done to change it.  It can be a destructive path.  It was for me.  But like the phoenix, I was also reborn.  I’d like to do a workshop on it.

After that experience, at first I nurtured a cold heart.  One that was simply about the control, about what I could get.   But Izrina and I have had a lot of time to build this relation and I find old and dangerous roots thriving.. the NEED to feel that love returned.  Does that make one weak?

It does.  I learned a long time ago, that to love well, I must be a mirror.  That which I give, I can not cling to.  I must be the moment reflected, not looking forward or back with desire.. just there sharing what joy is brought before me.

When I feel old ways creeping back in, when I feel that need, that clinging, returning, I can turn one of two ways.  I can become sulking, sad, and upset.  Or I can laugh.  Odd choices, I know, but bear with me.

When a loved one is displeased with you, and instead of that loving vibe emanating from them, where you feel their love and desire to be with you.. when instead of that, you get that cold shoulder and the sulking stare, the angry vibe.. and you can realize how addicted you have become to the first.  Love can be a very addicting drug. As a Master you can go one of two ways.

You can go down a path destructive to yourself and your slave, you can become a slave to your desire to be loved, begging them to love you in return, pleading with them to drop the hate…You can see the destruction that would cause.  Or you can laugh.  You can laugh because you know you are in charge, and any silly tantrums are going to end badly and not for you.. you can realize that people are people, including your slave and you can’t expect them to never be cross with you.  But as long as consent exists and as long as the gift of your domination is desired, you hold the cards, so ultimately it is all rather amusing.

It’s somewhat further amusing when you see this clearly, and you can see the emotions in the room, and you can see your choices, and rather than your emotions defining your decisions, your decisions define the outcome.. predictably.   None of which is really destructive to the objective of mixing love with BDSM.  You just have to be on a higher level, looking further ahead to the outcome of your choices that are made here in the moment.  Its not so much an absence of emotion from your decision making, than the predictability of our responses when we stay in our sacred roles.  Anger melts, and love returns, when you stay strong.

Carpe Diem my friends.. love someone well today.

Happy fathers day!

If we think of humanity in very ancient terms, we go back to the hunters and the gatherers.  This basic division of roles is what drives the whole, men are from mars and women are from venus observations.  But truth be told, this division is less gender based and more role based.  The hunters are the Dominants..those who seek to excel, to stand out, and being a leader is a lonely place.   The gatherers are the submissives… those who seek satisfaction in the achievements of the collective.  I reject however the notion of gender based roles.

Now fathers day is a celebration on gender but as you might well imagine, in many ways I was not a traditional father.

To speak of me as a father, we must go back to the days before I became one.  I was always a Dominant in desire and as a heterosexual male my desire was a submissive female.  It wasn’t until much later that my heterfexible side developed, so in my younger years I tended to think of women in terms of what I could command.

So it was that when I finally matured enough to be attempt being a father, I wished for a son, knowing full well that my inclinations towards women in general would make me a poor father to a little girl.  Funny that what we “know” is often wrong.

What I learned was that “Adults do not make children; children make adults”.  When my daughter was born, she was so tiny.  I never liked holding babies, and I felt the same way about my daughter.. for a few days. How quickly fear of harming her was replaced by the joy of having her close.

I bought a sling.  Not the fancy one that has your baby strapped facing you, or riding on your back.  This was a simple affair, just a circle of cloth that went from shoulder to hip and let your baby curl up in natal position on your stomach.  I loved carrying my daughter this way for a number of reasons.  First, I felt is was a bridge for her between the nine months spent in her mother, and today.  And second, it gave me a small taste of what her mother had gone through, bearing her to birth age.  I loved the feel of her against my stomach, the weigh of her as she slept.  I strongly recommend these slings, especially for men.

I have fond memories of her riding with me to the day-care, just outside my office.. of visiting her for lunch, and of our adventures on the drive home.  It was during these times I think that “stop and smell the roses” took on the special meaning it has for us today.

So often, our relations with our parents are strained.  I think in this I have been blessed.  I gave great thought to the role I should take in my daughters upbringing and I think in this particular endeavor, I have succeeded as a father.  I think I brought the right balance of nurturing and admonishment.  The right levels of control and freedom-at the right times in her life.  The right lessons that would set my daughter on her way to making her own decisions.

I have been many things over the years… son, lover, husband, father.  Yes, Master is in there too, but it is not important to this day.. except that I have never hid my life from my daughter.  She knows everything, and in many ways I think she has some Dominant in her as well.  I know she is happiest when she is in control.  Her life wasn’t always perfect.  She maintained wonderful grades all through school, but the fear of failure has become a devil she now struggles to embrace, perhaps to the ruin of some things that might otherwise be a success.  It is the age old story.. that which we did in our youth, we turn 180 degrees from in our effort to break the bonds of the past.

Now she has passed from daughter to lover.  Where her life will take her, I can’t imagine, but I love her dearly.  In my youth, I knew only eros love.. the love of passion.  But being a father taught me the ways of agape love.. the love of compassion.   Each has a place in our lives.. passion and compassion.  I hope she calls today, but perhaps she will not.  When you are young and struggling in life, its hard.  You are so busy watching for the upcoming horizon, we sometimes forget to look back.  That is the thing about age.  The older you get, the more you tend to look back.  I think today, I’ll adopt the ways of youth, and look forward… I wonder what this day has in store for me?   Carpe Diem my friends.. seize this day and make it yours.  Go be someone’s great day.