Powerful Submission

To set the scene, I am in my early 20's, staying at my parents house with my previous partner. We had been out at a wedding where I had used a large amount of alcohol to numb a feeling of inadequacy I felt being around some of the other guests.

Of course it also had the effect of making me less inhibited than usual (something my then partner did not think was such a bad thing...)

We are getting ready to go to bed and my fuzzy brain told my unsteady body that a sexy strip show would be the perfect seduction technique. So, teetering and tottering on my heels in the tiny space next to the bed in the spare room of my parent’s house I commence a hip swinging, panty twirling dance! As I twirled and jiggled I remembered seeing the riding crop left over from my teenage horse riding days in the wardrobe behind me...

Out comes the crop and (now dressed only in a bra and high heels) I brandish it in a dominantly menacing fashion. Or so I thought - somewhere a tiny coherent part of my brain was screaming at me that my intended submissive shouldn't be in tears and howling with laughter.

Spurred on by what I thought were encouraging signs of desire (well, he was at least paying attention to me - and he was breathing! LOL), I spun on my heels to wiggle my rear end towards my victim and spank my own arse (yup, very confused!) with the crop. Unfortunately I had absolutely no sense of balance (no sense at all actually!) and kept spinning to land head first in a very large box in the wardrobe! So, here I was, the supposed Dom, head down, arse up in a wardrobe feet waving in the air and completely incapable of rescuing myself. *sigh* and I had such a promising career as a Dominatrix...

Um, I think I'll leave the crop in Fian's capable hands and write off the whole experiment as a learning experience. But what did I learn?

1. Never ever buy red wine in a plastic jug.
2. If you ignore rule 1. then mixing the wine with premixed spirits from another plastic jug will not make it a better drinking experience.
3. If you are not looking forward to going to a wedding, then you probably should not go.
4. High heels, hooked carpet and an inexperience as a table top dancer are not good combinations if you ignore rules 1. and 2.
5. If for some unfortunate combination of planetary misalignments, karmic roundabouts and alcoholic haze you have ignored all of the rules and ended up arse up in a wardrobe then for Blog's sake, don't expect to keep it a secret. The supposed love of your life (ha) will use the story at every dinner party, poker night, boys night out or even Parliamentary morning tea (yes, I wish I was kidding) as an amusing anecdote at your expense.

So, now my dirty (or silly) little secret is out and it now has no power over me and I can look back and laugh and be very very grateful that Fian is a lot steadier on His feet than me when he is brandishing a crop!

I am so tired today - it is Monday morning with a whole week ahead and I am exhausted!

I guess that's what wearing high heels with an impossibly short skirt in cold weather, (the club was warm, but there was a cool breeze sometimes), having your butt smacked and flogged,being put on display etc, will do to you.

As Fian said, we think we will go back and may even look into membership. One thing that really puts me off however is that there was a lot of cigarette smoke, it was quite horrible. My throat is still sore from all the smoke.

At least one thing I know is that I am very very happy in my submission, I am very much in love and that Fian is very much the Man for me.

Couples embraced, arms wrapping and intertwining as they gently swayed and pressed closer together as if to share the sight through common eyes.

Strong male forms held themselves tall, not afraid to be seen, not peeking around doorways.

Curious onlookers wanting to understand as they try to reason with the term consensual.

In the corner two women are absorbed in each other, merging seemlessly so that there is no break in their connection - desire and energy locked in a circuit of lust.

A young man looks and sees cunt, breasts, nipples and arse.

An old man remembers lovers and the cut of their whips, the sting of their palms and the soft fall into warm arms from deep within self.

All these people looking in, watching as I submit to you and all that you do.

Apparently.

I don't know, for all I see are two blue eyes focussed on me. The curve of your back crouched below me and the touch of your hands to my flesh. You are so strong, so Male and so in control.

At times I see you from a distance and then I seem too close to the whisp of silver as it sings through the air and long to fall away again.

Until finally you sense that you need to come in close, to take the weight and lift me to you and allow me to return where I always wanted to be - in your arms.

I want all of you.

I love your mouth.
Your fingers, hands, palm, fist.
Your tongue.
Your nails cutting through skin,
Your teeth bruising and biting
Your cunt.
Your arse.

I want your sweat, your juices, your blood, your spit, your piss - no part of you is offensive to me.

It is all you and it is all mine.

Well, Fian and I had an experiment with Slave and Master - omg it sounds so like my 5 year olds playing when I say that - "Now, you be the Slave and I'll be the Master and you'll do as I say."

Now, while I understand that the basics of our D/S relationship did not change - that I desire to pleasure,please and adore Fian and that he is focussed on loving and looking after me. But there was something about introducing the new aspect of Slave that really sat uncomfortably with me. The experiment actually crept up on us to begin with, you know, me calling Him Master during sex or play, Him texting me or calling me with instructions to be completed when I see him. That was Ok, in fact it was very much a turn on and as such was more of a foreplay or roleplay than a decision about roles within our relationship. So, we decided to see where it lead us.

My difficulties began when a weekend together alone ended and 'real life' began again - work,home, kids, school runs, making dinners after work, juggling the many roles that a working mum, a submissive partner, friend, daughter, etc has to perform. An instruction would come from Fian in the middle of something mundane, but stressful like the 5.30pm rush for dinner, baths, pj's and attention. Although He didn't expect me to drop everything to make sure His wants were attended to, I would start to panic as I realised I couldn't get everything done, have the kids seen to, have myself presented in a subtly sexy manner and have the house looking perfect, washing done and a wonderfully presented meal for my Master. (Notice most of these things were standards I imposed on myself?)

Fian on the other hand was struggling with how to 'discipline' a slave who seemed to question or even be hostile to requests, if not verbally then definitely with her eyes.

Neither of us were thriving in the roles, I felt like I was not good enough, I felt like it didn't matter how hard I worked during the day there would still be things that needed doing and maybe something He had asked of me would be missed. Now, again notice that I felt this way - I was not MADE to feel this way.

There were too many similarities to my previous marriage - I would struggle to keep the house looking as wonderful as I could (whilst making sure that I spent time actually being with the kids, not plonking them in front of TV or something like that). The kids and I would spend more and more time each day tidying or cleaning or trying to avoid making a mess so that Daddy's house wouldn't get messy. Some days he would come home and I would be certain that 'today I had got it right' - the house looked good, the kids were happy, clean, fed and calmed down ready for bedtime routine - he'd walk in the door and make some derogitory comment about the bikes not being put back properly or some other stupid thing and never a nice remark. To say that I felt crushed, unloved and unhappy would be an understatement.

So cut back to the present and imagine Fian wondering how to handle things when a request He has made is not fulfilled. He knows I have tried my best, He understands the juggling required to care properly for kids (especially at that arsnic hour of the day) and He knows that I try very hard. I am getting more and more sullen and resentful, scared that I will be in 'trouble' (oh, so much like what I worried about with my ex - he wasn't physically violent, but he knew how to say things that hurt me deeper than a blow).

Finally in a tearful discussion about something else, I blurted out that I hated the slave/Master thing and that it made me feel horrible and that I was not growing to love Him through it but to resent Him. Gosh it felt good to say it. I won't say what Fian had to say about His role (that is up to Him to share or not). So, slave/Master is gone.

Of course that leaves us staring through the glass at the ice cream cabinet looking at all of the flavours, wondering which one suits us the best. *sigh* I guess we should just be thankful that we found this 'other' cabinet with the more exotic range of flavours!!!

Phew, what a week! There have been more tears here this week than at a youngest daughter's wedding! Misunderstanding, miscommunication and yes, distrust have all played a role in the relationship struggles this week.

Between hiding my presence from Fian's kids, trying to navigate our way through an unsatisfactory experiment with a Slave role for me, my kids misbehaving because they get all the crappy food they want at their dads house (and I get the three day delayed behaviour reactions) to a blog post misinterpreted.

It's taken so much hard work from both of us to work through, over and around these things. But we have and here are some of the lessons we have learnt.

That trying to hide our relationship from Fian's kids is not the key to moving ahead.

That I am don't work well with the slave/master relationship. I was married too long to a man who made me feel as though I was in trouble or being found to be unsatisfactory all of the time to want it voluntarily.

I have to learn to stand up for myself and tell my ex that I don't want to have to deal with the hangovers of what he does with the kids. They detox at my house only to be filled with MSG laden food, Coke and other soft drinks, chocolate and generally really crap food. Going to bed at 9.00pm or later is also not appropriate for 5 and 7 year olds.

And finally - the most important thing for building a sustainable relationship. We need to trust each other. Know that we are are not going to deliberately hurt each other so when we feel slighted or upset we both need to calm down and raise the issue by talking instead of getting upset.

Of course there have been some other little things like:
Always kiss goodnight
Always have a real kiss goodbye (not just a peck)
Presents make each other feel good.
Reading books is good for your sex life (wait til I tell you about the 'How To' book Fian is reading...)
Taking a novel to bed is no where near as much fun as going to bed with a man who is reading a particular How To book.
Fires are really really great to lie in front of while He practices certain techniques from aforementioned How To book.

Ok, now off to make the kids dinner, get ready to kiss Fian hello when he comes home from work, run out the door to a business meeting, kiss ass at the meeting, come home and give Fian a goodnight kiss that he will never forget and then finally sleep!!! Yay my day off tomorrow - I get 6 whole hours to myself!!!!!! *claps hands and squeals*

The week is over.
The Dominance was all encompassing.
The submission was complete.

This post contains more explicit content than usual. I made a decision a while ago that this blog wasn’t going to contain all of the intimate activities that Fian and I engage in. Which is probably just as well because if I was to document each time Fian and I fuck then the sheer number of pages on the blog would blow out the servers at blogspot… lol

So to my week of intense submission.

You may have read in previous posts that I am not into pain. It grieves me to say that I am not a pain slut. Why grieves? Because I know that it pleases Fian to be able to use his hand to spank my arse, use a cane or paddle to push me past the limits of common behaviour and let all my feelings pour out of me. This is not to say that we don’t do this – but I wouldn’t say that I get any enjoyment out of it.

On our first night alone in the house together this week Fian and I came home to my freezing cold cottage, stoked up the fire in the lounge, put the heater on in the bedroom, cooked dinner, drank a couple of glasses of beer/vodka and danced together in front of the fire. Ok, so nothing too D/S there I hear you say…except that we were dancing around the coffee table upon which were laid out our new nipple clamps (our first set!), a large red dildo, 10 metres of cord, 3 metres of cotton rope, a ball chain flogger, a cock ring, black tape and one bottle of lubricant. Yup, now that’s a table decoration!

I knew that I would have to submit to Fian and that in doing so I would have to confront my fear of pain and my desire to take control and stop the physical sensations in my body. To be able to disappear into that place where the pain is just another sensation and not something to run away from is one of my greatest goals. When Fian and I started exploring this dynamic, I had a much higher tolerance to the pain – my butt was black and blue from our experimentation!

First my hands were taped firmly behind my back – I felt the first shiver of fear run through me and wanted to move my hands to do silly little things like scratch my nose or move a stray hair that had fallen on my breast and was tickling me. Then the tape was wrapping around my breasts, pushing them up higher and higher only to be pressed into my body as the next length of tape encompassed them. This wrapping continued down over my torso and onto my belly which swelled out below the constriction of the tape. As someone who has struggled to come to terms with the shape of my body post babies this was very very confronting.

Corseted by black tape, my breaths were forced to be shallow and in between the quick, short breathes the fear and anticipation swelled and rolled through me. Fian kicked my legs apart until I was standing with my legs spread, hands and arms bound to my body, breathless and weak at the knees. My body longed to lie down, my legs shook and as I became more and more caught up in the sensations, and I began to feel panicky and tried harder and harder to take deep breaths. (Please don’t think I was being suffocated – Fian was being very careful of me).

Even the insistent sweep of Fian’s tongue across my clit and the suck of his mouth against my cunt couldn’t distract me from the hidden struggle to control my fear.

Fian looked up and saw that I was struggling too much and unwrapped me, releasing me from my fear. As I drew in great, deep breathes, a sharp sting and clench on the lips of my cunt pulled me back. Fian had positioned the clamps so that the chain that linked them swung between my legs. He pulled the chain first in one direction and instinctively I moved where I was lead – I was tethered, made helpless by the stricture on my lips and the incredible carnal desire rising in my cunt. I don’t know what turned me on more; the clasping restraint on my cunt, being directed wordlessly by the pull of the chain or the look on Fian’s face as He admired His cunt held in the vice of the clamps.

Soon Fian allowed me to lie on the floor. Now, instead of constricting tape around me Fian took the beloved rope and adorned my body, crossing behind my neck, over my breasts, pushing into the flesh on my belly and wrapping around my back only to pull up through the lips of my cunt to be twisted to the rear and knotted at my back. Black cord against my skin, pressing flesh up into little ridges, pulling the lips of my sex back and leaving me totally exposed to whatever Fian could and would do to me.

But before I could enjoy Fian’s skills as a lover he instructed me to turn onto my belly and even as I was still turning, feeling the ropes pull tight on my neck and then on my cunt as I moved, there was a swish as the ball chain flogger swung and bit into my thighs, then arse. Back and forth, over and over - thighs, arse, thighs, arse, across my sex, pulled up through my arse then swung again to sting and sear my skin. I struggled, tried to fight it, cried and screamed, pressed my face into a cushion sobbing and protesting. Finally I just allowed the tears to flow, howled and screamed into my cushion and knew that this was going to happen and fighting and allowing the fear to dominate me was going to make it worse. I won’t say I enjoyed it, I certainly wasn’t turned on by it and I was relieved when it was over but, I was exhilarated by my ability to endure it.

In keeping with my decision that this blog will not reveal all the details of what my lover does to me I am not going to describe exactly what went from here. But I do have to note that I had wanted to be able to take everything that Fian could give me. He wanted to be able to take me completely – fill me and fuck me like never before. This He did and, after he gave me permission I came in an all consuming, gushing orgasm and screamed louder than when Fian used the flogger.

So in my submission I gained mastery. I am another step of the way along my path to master fear. I also was in control of my body and stretched it, pushed it and enjoyed it in all its glory and depravity.

True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself.
Henry Miller


I submit to many things.

I submit to success and all the work that is required to receive the rewards.
I submit to good health - exercise, pure healthy food and self control.
I submit to love - to give of myself to people that come into my life to love them as they are without reserve or judgement or expectation of love returned.
I submit to Fian - to the commitment that is required to be true to one Man, to honesty even when a lie would be easier, to pleasure given and received, to pain when given in love, to open especially when I want to close up and run.
To Him - my Man, my Love, my Lover, my Master Fian.

For You - I love you Fian. This week we will be alone in your house each night after work and you told me that you will dominate me in all areas - take control and take me. I am already trembling inside at the thought of the play, pain and pleasure. Although I am nervous and worried that I may not be able to submit to all that you want, I am willing to submit to this fear, let it wash past me and through me but not to hold me back from You.

So it’s time for a virtual slide night. Grab your popcorn, put on your pj’s (I’m wearing Fian’s blue ones with ducks on them!) and fluffy slippers, groan about how boring slide nights are and then get over it or wait until the next post before reading!

I have posted before of the wonderful people that made our (Fian’s and my) trip to the UK so amazing. Here are some highlights of the locations that absolutely just astounded me.

Uffington Chalk Horse Wiltshire, England
Horse – he stands behind me as a constant guardian – to visit this place was pure magic. Not fluffy silly, sell lots of crap at hippy markets magic, but a pure overwhelming source of energetic power flowing from the spirit that dwells in this land.

Waylands Smithy by the Ridgeway near Uffington Wiltshire, England
How incredible to stand in a place where 5000 years ago another woman possibly stood to mourn and bury someone she cared for. I know that this comment is speculative and even possibly outlandishly inaccurate. But the people back then cared enough to build a structure for the dead that has not only survived for so long, but been used by countless generations as a burial mound AND somehow survived the visits of curious passersby across the centuries. I think it is possible that if they cared enough to build this place that a the worn ground at the head of the tomb was in part worn away by the feet of those who mourned the dead.

Stonehenge
Many people told us that Stonehenge wasn’t that good, that it wasn’t special. And, to them it may not have been an interesting place or it isn’t special. But our visit was more than good and to say that it is special is like saying Wells Cathedral is a pretty little church (Yup, we went there too...!)

From the first glimpse as I broke all land speed records to get there on time for our after hours visit, to the last glimpse through the pale light of descending darkness Stonehenge captivated me. Here I asked for life, asked if I could hold a piece of the strength of the stones (although it was the strength of more than that) in me to give to the child that Fian and I so want to conceive. Here we walked barefoot through the stones (not really a barefoot hippy, but my feet were burning and I needed to feel the ground beneath me.) and tried to imagine or comprehend the lives of those that dedicated themselves to the building of the circle. If you want to see Stonehenge – call the National Trust or go to their website and book the after hours access – six pounds each to walk amongst the stones instead of way back behind a barrier.

Stand quietly in the circle, allow your thoughts to wander and enjoy the experience with an open mind and no preconceived ideas of what you are standing in. Aagain I felt that there is magic in this world.

The White Spring Glastonbury, Somerset, England
Glastonbury holds a festival – apparently it’s muddy, loud and expensive. Under a shabby building in the shadow of the Tor there is a sanctuary. Sanctuary is an interesting word – it can be a place of shelter, a den, a harborage or hideout. Sanctuary can also be an alter, holy place – a shrine. From the word sanctum.

Here under a shire reservoir there lies a sanctum and a hideout. Opened sporadically (I don’t know who has the key or who is responsible for the actual building) this shabby building apparently was once a café or something of the like. Inside in dark, closeted alcoves and rooms a deep underground spring rises towards the surface. The white spring that runs under Glastonbuy Tor. I felt as though I could climb into the cave, follow the spring and end up in the very heart of the Tor. Here I felt safe, in harborage – here I played music that echoed off the walls are rose in my own offering to the Heart of the place. I don’t know what to call this ‘Spirit’, ‘God’, ‘Mother’, ‘Goddess’ – to me a name isn’t necessary. But whatever name you want to give – here was Feminine and she was strong.

Oh, and just in case you think that I spent the whole trip being all spiritual and hippy-like – I also loved the bookstores in Glastonbury, the museum in Bath, the music store in Birmingham, the architecture in Stratford-Upon-Avon and the beach in Cardiff. Hang on I forgot I also really really loved the Green and Blacks organic chocolate too! YUM!

Hello? HELLO? Oh come on, surely my slide night wasn’t that boring. *whispers* Ok, I’ll just turn out the lights and you can keep snoozing on my couch. “Goodnight”

Who am I to call myself Your woman?

How can I lay claim on what cannot be owned by just me?
Your love, devotion and leadership is readily shared.
You love many, are devoted to a few and lead all who choose to follow.
Why then do I consider myself to be so special, so unique in your affections?

Perhaps it is a sexual thing – yet you have known and enjoyed others, so in that I am not uniquely yours.
Perhaps it is a matter of the strength of your love – yet I know you have loved others intensely and fiercely also.

If not love or sex, what is defining me as Yours?

Is it possible that what makes me yours is what I give to you?

Well…

I give you my love, but others have that too.
I give you my sex, but other have had that in the past also.
I give you my submission….is this it? Is this what makes my Yours. My submission?
I have given that before too.

Only this time it was taken. Embraced and accepted. Held and cherished and treated as a gift.

This is it – this is what makes me Yours. You accept me for who I am and what I give. As I am. And it is enough. I am good enough.

I am Yours.