Do It

Lift up your chin. Look in his eyes.
Speak clearly what’s on your mind.
To him.

Shut off the chatter. Keep your mind focused.
Doubt and fear have no place here.
With him.

Happiness is everywhere. Open your eyes.
Imperfections only make it sweeter.
See him.

Serve him. Honor him.
Learn and grow. Do your best.
For him.

Poetry has never been my strong suit, but sometimes, things spill out of my head, and sometimes, I have to just let them. My lesson this week is Doing. I think too much. I over analyze. I let fear and doubt not just creep in, but overwhelm me. So, I am working on doing for him, with no more thought than required. Doing without hesitating, without waiting. Doing is always better than not doing, acting is better than inaction. Trying is better than standing still and silent. So, I’m going to post this, and then there are things I have to Do.

Until next week, readers, I leave you with the fortune cookie I had taped to my computer monitor at college: Don’t be afraid to take that big step. And a Nike commercial: Just Do It.

Failure and Perfection

Failure of perfection. Perfection of failure. Fail again. Fail better. Make mistakes with confidence. Reach for the moon, even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.

I grew up with the expectation of perfection. All A’s in school or there better be a good reason. High test scores, do well in academic competitions. Best behavior, don’t cause trouble. Be polite and kind to everyone. Do everything to the best of your ability.

So, what happens when failure is the expectation? When the object is to push and push until you fail? When failure is the road to growth? How do I reconcile this with my ingrained desire for perfection? Which, when it comes down to it, has become a fear of failure.

Well, it’s just one more fear to overcome, then, isn’t it? What am I truly afraid of? What does failure mean? Why is it scary? Failure equates to loss, for me. Loss of face, loss of respect, loss of pride, loss of love, loss of approval. I need to rewrite this equation. Failure is the road to success. Failure is the path to learning and growth. Great things have been accomplished in the history of man through even greater failures. If I allow myself to be paralyzed by the fear of failure, I will never even try. I will never grow. I will never know what I could accomplish.

I have allowed my fear to stop me these past two weeks. I have let uncertainty and hesitation keep me from growing. I have given fear the control instead of giving it to him. I have failed to try. To top it all off, I even failed to see what was happening and to communicate it to him. Fortunately, he saw it, and he did not fail me. He turned on the light and shined it in my eyes until I could see, and kept it there until I could understand and accept and admit it.

Now I take the next step. Eyes wide open, I accept failure. I will walk out on the wire and not look down for the net. If I slip and fall, I’ll make a beautiful dive on the way down. I will, as always, do my best, but I will not let fear hold me back. I will accept the risks, enjoy both failure and success, and learn from them, too. There are things I want to do, places I want to go, experiences I want to taste, fears to overcome, limits to break.

I am so lucky and grateful to have people around me who accept me for who I am, for what I can and cannot do(this list gets smaller every day), and who push me to be better than I ever thought possible. Who, when I fall down, reach out a hand and help me back to my feet. Who believe in me, even when I am at my worst and who rejoice with me when I am at my best.

What Turns You On?

I often think of this question in terms of the physical. What can he DO to turn me on? This is often the easy answer, the safe answer. It involves the surface of my being. Often it involves involuntary physical reactions. Kissing, licking, sucking, touching, groping – these things are meant to turn us on. Spanking, pinching, biting, paddling, caning, whipping, squeezing, grabbing, holding, restraining – these things turn on a masochist, it is no secret.

But what about mentally,what about my fantasies, what do I think about to get turned on? This is more risky territory. These are things that aren’t straight forward, are more vulnerable and personal. Not that I think my fantasies are unique to me, if you can imagine it, you can find it on the internet, after all. But to offer my thoughts and my mind has always been riskier than offering my body. The hurt when my thoughts are rejected is far higher than when my physical desires are rejected.

So, what are my fantasies? What are my daydreams? What do I think about to get turned on?

School girl. Kidnap victim. Slave girl. Are my top three.

1)School girl. Typical short skirt, white panties, button up top. It always involves getting in trouble and being made to bend over a desk for a spanking or paddling. It then generally devolves into sex on the desk. Sometimes it begins by being caught having sex on school grounds. Sometimes it involves bad grades or incomplete assignments, and trying to trade favors for good grades.

2)Kidnap victim. Blindfold, duct tape, handcuffs, rope, being driven off in the back of a van. Stripped naked, threat of violence for noncompliance. Photos or video taken as blackmail. Forced to pose or perform sexual acts seemingly willingly for the camera.

3)Slave girl. Collar, shackles, little else. Taught to please and serve. Often involves being raised specifically for this purpose and and may start with meeting the one I was raised to serve, or being shown and tested to find a buyer. Occasionally, involves being taken prisoner and forced into slavery for a more rebellious and discipline oriented fantasy.

So, what turns you on?

Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby…

Sex was never discussed in my house growing up. Mom never had “the talk” with me, I had it at school from a silly video. It was mentioned by her twice in my life. Once, when a friend of hers had been embarrassed when her 8 year old daughter told her not to have sex if she didn’t want more kids and described the act very poorly because I had misinformed her, being only 9 and just previous to the talk at school when she had asked Me about it. So Mom asked if I knew how it really worked now, and I said yes and that was that. The second time was when we were out buying flowers for my wedding and she wanted to know if I had any questions and to tell me the first time might not be great. I rolled my eyes and said Mom… in that tone most of us perfect as teenagers. My Dad never discussed sex when I was growing up, though as he’s gotten older he’s discussed a lack of sex due to the ineffectualness of Viagra… thanks, Dad.

I only dated one boy for one weekend in High School, and that was only a couple phone conversations, so I’d never even been kissed before I got to college. My first three boyfriends freshman year took me from kissing through oral sex at a not-too-fast pace. It was not until the summer after my sophomore year that I had sex for the first time. Subsequent first visit to OB/GYN for birth control was a godsend as far as period control. I am now nearing 30 and have had a total of 8 sexual partners, 9 if you count 3 seconds of penetration as a sexual partner, I generally don’t. Only 4 of which were/are continuous sexual relationships. I had a few STD tests a couple years ago at the request of a life insurance company and in the past couple weeks, my new doc ran a full panel for me, results still pending, but I’m not expecting any surprises. (That’s why they’re called surprises, eh?)

So that background is all well and good, but what am I really on about? One of my hard limits is sex in public. Public generally being defined as more than two other people(other than the one I’m having sex with) being present. I blush when talking about sex, avoid using sexual terms in public and even in private sometimes. I’ll swear like a sailor, but ask me to say cock or admit I’m thinking about oral and I’m suddenly shy and flustered. Sex, to me, is a private thing, but even more than that, it’s something I find it difficult to be forward about.

One, on the private matter of sex. It is a personal thing, a private thing. Sex, to me, is an expression of intimacy shared between two people, maybe three. It’s a special kind of energy and I don’t fancy the intrusion of other energy into the mix. The excitement of having sex somewhere inappropriate and public has its allure, but the thought of other people watching and the threat of being arrested most often kills it for me. That’s not to say I haven’t had sex in a public park at night, but only when those two factors have been reduced to almost nil.

He asked me to go without panties recently and it was a huge deal. Let my most private and intimate bits be exposed under my skirt? Proper girls just don’t do that(when the hell did I become proper again?). What if someone sees? What if someone grabs me randomly? What if I get pulled over? It took some very serious conversation for me to get past the fear and realize that I was in control of myself, my safety and my personal space. Not to mention, my friends would be around me to protect me should anything go wrong. It was a very freeing experience, and the edge of fear kept under control was wonderful.

Two, on not being sexually forward. Communication is key. I’ve learned, though my journey in kink, that I have to ask for what I want, be clear about what I want and to accept what I want without being ashamed or embarrassed by it. Why hasn’t this transferred to sex as well? I looked back at my posts, even my erotica, I only mention fucking once at the very end. I don’t write overt sex scenes very often and it is even rarer that I share those that I do. I could blame my parents, I could blame my sheltered early life, I could blame being an introvert and generally shy, I could blame a Puritan society. Excuses, excuses, excuses. These are excuses I have let run my sex life.

How do I stop that? How do I let go of fear and embarrassment? Why am I afraid? What am I afraid of? Rejection? Do I think that if I suggest sex or oral or say I’m thinking about your cock, he’s going to say “No, how could you? What kind of girl are you?” How ridiculous is that? Seriously, I can asked to be beat, set on fire, tied up and swung from the rafters, and yet sex, that pretty much everyone on the planet has, trips me up. How silly and neurotic is that? Talking about sex is my Boggart in the closet (yes, a Harry Potter reference). Laugh at the fear to make it go away.

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Ritual

Ritual: Any practice or pattern of behavior regularly performed in a set manner.

This week, I was asked to create a purging ritual that accepts the scene for what it was to myself as object and free myself as girlfriend from any feelings of guilt that might have been created in my object state. The purpose of creating this ritual is to create a space where I can be free to have drop and deal with my emotional reactions while I am still with him, so that when I go back to my other partners, I am whole and fully functional on the levels where I operate with them. It is vital that I am able to be wife and girlfriend to my partners and that I do not come back to them broken. That could damage those relationships and create animosity between my partners.

I looked at what other rituals I have, and came up specifically with my ritual around suspension scenes with him. Afterward, there is always a moment where I thank him, and we hug, making a mental and physical connection. Then, I always sit down with the rope and coil it up for him and put it away. I provide this service in exchange for the scene. This lead me to creating a ritual of Gratitude, Service and Connection.

Specifically, it plays out in my head thus: Thank you for taking care of me, how may I take care of you? He makes a request, from a simple glass of water, to a back rub, to helping him with another scene. This provides me a chance to give back to him for all that he has given me. As well as creates space for me to react to and process the scene we just had, and if there are emotions I need to deal with, if there is drop, then he is right there to help me through it. Ending with physical connection, a touch, a hug, a kiss. I often find that physical connection with my partner is the best way to recover from drop. A tangible expression of our love for each other. It is, after all, love that makes this possible. I would not and could not give up this much control to someone if there was not a loving and caring relationship as a foundation.

I have another ritual that I perform for him. Daily, I run through my Tai Chi forms, a short set of Yoga positions and then I kneel for half an hour. I use this time to relax, find peace and meditate. Sometimes there is something he has specifically asked me to think about, other times, I simply reflect on recent conversations or scenes. This is a ritual I do for him, to take care of my body to better serve him, and to practice a kneeling position for him. It gives me time during my day to think about him, a connection to him on days when I may not see him in person. This is a ritual that was created out of requests he made of me.

The purging ritual is different. He asked me to create it myself, after we discussed why it was necessary and what it needed to accomplish. He could not tell me what I needed to do to come fully out of object space, create opportunity to experience drop and then finish the transition to girlfriend space. I had to think about what my needs are, and how I react to things and what works for me. It is my responsibility to ask for what I need, to be healthy emotionally, mentally and physically. The ritual as created, meets the needs of acknowledgment, contribution and connection. It gives us time and space to deal with reactions to the scene and gives me a more smooth transition from one space to the other.