And today is better

I have no way of knowing how many read here. Some, I know find at least some of my inner storminess disturbing, and for the very best of reasons want to "save" me from the winds and waves that wash across my spirit by times...

I still struggle with this place. Struggle to maintain this format as different in intent and context from the listserv style fora where I also participate and write. There, I expect to interact, to share what I experience, to ask questions, to receive and offer feedback. Here, although I welcome the comments of those of you who read, I write for me, and for Master. My intent here is to give voice to what comes inside -- to examine and unravel the twisted tangled yarn of my thinking and mental meanderings. Or, if not to untangle it, at the very least to put it outside my head, where it can be laid in the light and not jabber away at me in the dark corners of my mind. Here, I don't actually expect to get "fixes" for the issues, questions, or dilemmas. I'm just talking. It's a journal -- a diary. On-line and open to your eyes if you are curious, but a journal just the same.

So yesterday was a shriek, mental emotional nuttiness that ended up here because I'm better at putting that sort of stuff down in writing than I am at getting it out in spoken words. When I couldn't find a way to tell Master how frightened and needful of His hands on me I was "out loud," or even in IM, I finally put it here. The shrieking grimness came from whatever sources: the sense of exhaustion, the new toy, the hormonal tides of approaching menopause, the inevitable insanities that always accompany the ending of a school year, the mounting stressors... Whatever... Doesn't matter. I knew I was in trouble, and not able to just smile my way through it anymore. The one person on the planet who can fix that for me right now, is the one who owns me... He knows what is needed to calm me, to center me, to focus me. When I told Him that what I was feeling was on the blog, He read, and told me that we would work it out. I was told to have my collar on when He got home...the collar I so seldom wear unless I put it on myself. To put it on at His command is, for me, a great symbolic act.
I didn't know what to expect from Him. Driving home, my cell phone rang and it was T, asking if I was OK. Tearfully, I admitted that "no, I really wasn't..., and no, I didn't know why." She told me to go home and take a nap. I figured I had chores to do at home, but when I got there, I did put on the collar and went to lie down for what I meant to be just a few minutes. I was still asleep, deeply, when Master arrived home. He snuggled with me for a long while, holding me and soothing me, telling me how lovely my collar looked, assuring me that I was "His." I fell asleep again in His arms. The next I knew, T was waking me up telling me that dinner was ready. It was 7:30. I'd been asleep for almost 3 hours. We ate dinner. We laughed. We spent some time, watched some baseball on the television. Went to bed nestled in each others arms. Still I had my collar on.

This morning, He and I talked some. He declared that I would be paddled with the new paddle -- the one that caused me such panic, and then also tied to the end of the futon and strapped with the rubber strap because I'd questioned if He intended to release me (that was at one panicky point yesterday when I was receiving no response from Him to my IM's -- turns out He was busy with work related phone calls). He intends that I will someday understand that "always" means ALWAYS. I was, at first, just wordless in the face of these pronouncements. Trying to breathe through the gut level response that they created in me. He held me and stroked me, but was implacable.

Eventually, the time came for what was to be the "pleasurable" spanking. The paddling with the new paddle -- leather and very heavy. Over the bed pillows I went. Restrained at the ankles, knees, and wrists. He stroked me and soothed me, and proceeded to paddle me quite soundly, after insisting that I kiss the paddle and ask Him to please paddle me, as is our custom. I cried and sobbed, but I stayed in place and made it through. We would have made love at that point, but just then T arrived for snuggling and some spanking of Himself (hehehehehe) -- a rather complex mutual collaring arrangement the two of them have. Then we decided to head off to breakfast.

After breakfast, T headed of for some shopping, and He and I headed back to bed. I was still dreading the "discipline" I knew was coming for wondering about whether He would release me. When it came up and He asked me if I understood why I was being disciplined, I told Him (honestly) I didn't think it was fair, but that it was His decision, and I accepted that. To my surprise, He relented, asked me if I had learned that no matter what, He would never release me, never abandon me, never leave me? Asked if that lesson had been learned even without the strapping? I told Him, "Yes, Sir." And so I did not have to endure the rubber strapping that I so dreaded.

We did make love then. That part of our life has been improving. We've found the rhythm that works for Him and helps Him achieve release. It pleases us both to find our way to that place. For me, it is trickier. I am slower now that the hormonal weirdnesses are upon me.

We took a bit of a nap, and then I tried to see if I couldn't find my way to orgasm with my vibrator. No dice. Then He offered to fist me. We haven't successfully managed that in months and months. I've been too "dry" or too "inflexible" or something. It just hasn't gone well. And it used to be a source of the most amazing and glorious joy for us both, but especially for me. I have mourned the loss of it terribly, and simultaneously been afraid to try again -- fisting gone bad is a miserable experience.

So when the offer came, I was amazed, and a little intimidated, and still oh so willing to try. It was like offering steak and lobster to someone who has been living on dry bread for a very long time.

You can't fist someone who won't help. I have to go along to make it work. It is scary knowing that it is coming and it requires the ultimate in submission -- open up, relax those muscles, give Him the access. We made it. Not easy at first. Not the simplest and most radical session we've ever had, but we were there and I was there. Together.

Master knew. T knew. We knew. What to do to weather the storms.

Today is better. I am held closer. Collared. Spanked soundly. Fisted stupid.

There will be storms again. Of this I am sure. Sunshine, too. I will always know where I can go to find safe harbor and secure anchor. Always.

swan

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