the marks of a slave

We're having a lot of fun right now, because I'm directing him in a play.

That was a fun read...it does raise a question on my part; do you get to feel that in the bedroom/inside the house?

What I mean is, does it get him pissed off enough sometimes to be told what to do by you in public, to make him lash out when you're alone with him?
 
That was a fun read...it does raise a question on my part; do you get to feel that in the bedroom/inside the house?

What I mean is, does it get him pissed off enough sometimes to be told what to do by you in public, to make him lash out when you're alone with him?

The only thing that makes him lash out at me is his frustration with me, specifically when I'm making him feel (in a less than pleasant manner) like my unhappiness is due to his shortcomings.

I have a lot of responsibility for the maintenance of the house and the care and education of our children, so I am frequently in a position of "telling him what to do" at home. Because he assumes that I have a better understanding of what needs to be done in those areas, and am held responsible for taking care of all the details, he has no problem accepting my "authority" in those areas. He does not, however, always do what I ask him to do (for reasons of his own), and then I have to come up with alternative solutions.

In the bedroom, we play a tricky game. He likes to feel that there are areas of my sexuality that he cannot control, and frequently pushes at those boundaries. I almost never "tell him what to do" sexually, but I am encouraged to express my desires (or lack thereof). Consequently, there are moments when neither of us feel like we have control in the bedroom. :)

In the particular case of the play we're working on, I am doing exactly what he wants me to do (which requires that I give him direction). He is both flexible and intelligent enough to realize that even if it does take a few minutes for him to adapt.
 
*does a little dance* I'm here at the last entry. It's taken me 2 weeks to read the whole thread top to bottom!

ES, thank you for all your posts, it's a wonderful insight into how things work for others. You write beautifully :)

I don't think we're really M/s, we're more D/s, but just starting to explore our dynamic, and learn how things are between us when the power shifts. What will happen over time, I don't know, but I'm eager to find out.

I currently have an assignment- learning to lapdance. I have an awful sense of rhythm, and am not very confident about my body, which I think is why it seems such a difficult task. But I'll do my best, plan, practise, because I know that even if I feel I've done it badly, the fact that I have done as he asked will make him happy.

Thanks. :rose:

I love that so many of our early "assignments" are to become the custom-made hooker/slut/pornography of his dreams. And it is a challenge to overcome all the socially embedded messages that separate the good girls from the bad. (Maybe that's just our generation, though. Is there still a distinction between the good girls and the bad girls sexually? It seems like the good girl can be comfortably quite bad these days. The difference seems to be the degree of "insanity" that is revealed. What do you think? I'm curious what messages my daughter will be getting as she grows into womanhood.)
 
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I'm not sure there _are_ bad girls any more. It's so commonplace for girls for girls to be out on the town, meeting random guys and having one night stands that what I would have counted as a bad girl is now a normal girl. And I only stopped being a teenager 7 years ago. I dread to think what mght be common place for kids by the time my kids (if by some mracle I get any!) are teens.

Funnily, on the radio earlier I heard a song called 'dirty picture' basically some lad wanting a girl to take dirty pics and send them to him. Now maybe this is me being overly prudish, but here the most common downloaders/buyers of chart music are under 18. Just encourages them to do silly things.
 
I'm not sure there _are_ bad girls any more. It's so commonplace for girls for girls to be out on the town, meeting random guys and having one night stands that what I would have counted as a bad girl is now a normal girl. And I only stopped being a teenager 7 years ago. I dread to think what mght be common place for kids by the time my kids (if by some mracle I get any!) are teens.

Funnily, on the radio earlier I heard a song called 'dirty picture' basically some lad wanting a girl to take dirty pics and send them to him. Now maybe this is me being overly prudish, but here the most common downloaders/buyers of chart music are under 18. Just encourages them to do silly things.

Hey, rock and roll has been corrupting the youth and leading them down the path of sin since its inception. . . .

With a young daughter entering middle school, I want to define some limits for her. I want to teach her the reasons she shouldn't do many of things I myself have done, at least until she's mature enough to handle them. But, if she ever finds out everything there is to know about me, I wonder what her reaction will be.

Will I lose her respect? Will she see me as some kind of hypocrite?

She trusts me. I'd hate to lose that trust.
 
It seems like the good girl can be comfortably quite bad these days.

Our daughter aside, thank God good girls can be bad these days.

Really, if a good girl can't be bad, what's the point of girls?

And after 23 years of marraige my cock is still hard for the smart, dirty girl who, for some reason I can't quite understand, still slips into bed with me every night.

Fuck, if there is one thing I'm grateful for it is that I found a wife who, every time I pull down my pants and open my mouth, doesn't run screaming and hysterical from the bedroom. When you think of it, that's a pretty incredible thing to get out of an airtight, lifetime contract. (Hell. Half the time I think about the shit that runs through my mind when my pants are down I want to run screaming.)

And then there's all the other little stuff like building a life together, raising children, formulating and living by the values that we have built from youth to middle age and soon into old age, and knowing that however bad things get, life is only a fraction as scary as it would have been if I were travelling it alone.

So.

I love you.

Happy Mother's Day.

And thanks.
 
:rose:




(and I'll leave the comment on good girls/bad girls and current youth values for another time)
 
Happy Mother's Day.

In our bed on Howard Street where a mylar sheet reflected our youth and the window opened up right over the sidewalk, I learned how to serve the godhead in you. You kneeled over me, a young shepherd god who walked the earth to find pleasure, while your eyes bespoke the loneliness of the mountains where so few travel. When I was willing to climb those heights, you rewarded me with your gentle-strong kiss.

I give you my love.

On the bus you made me laugh while I ached for something else, uncertain of my choices, homesick and lonely, until I realized suddenly that your desire wasn't fleeting. You sat on my mattress on the floor in Chicago, your eyes so vulnerable with the hope of having me, I could feel the weight of your being. And I found a home in your arms, in your thoughts, in your world.

I give you my life.

Before we ever kissed, I lay silent beside you, in a stranger's bed, freezing in the night. I felt the heat of your body. I felt the motion in your stillness. I felt your restraint. Surprised by my desire, I wanted you to touch me. And you didn't. You stole my resistance.

I give you my body.

Late at night, dressed in lace and black leather, I walked into that club on your arm. I clung to you, my protector, as I drowned myself in the pool. Memories cut so vividly I am today willing to paint them on my body and share them with strangers. You encourage me to live my darker dreams.

I give you my desire.

And I still feel the first time you fucked me on that windy hill. Under the open sky, you took my pretense of innocence and threw it to the ground. In the Riva's backyard, in the throes of a thunderstorm, in that campground shower, in the Waldorf ballroom, at the train station, you took me. And yet you always give me back.

I willingly give you my freedom.

****************************************

I wrote this on his birthday the year I became his slave. :heart:
 
"You don't allow yourself to feel pleasure. As soon as you start enjoying something, you want to stop."



My concept of pleasure is so rooted in intoxication and renunciation I think he's probably right.

Pleasure that leads to release frightens me because I think I'll lose myself in it (as I have many, many times before), so instead I restrain myself and focus on the very simple, mundane pleasures of ordinary life. A raven in the tree outside my window. A well-prepared meal. A smile or shared intimacy with a neighbor.

Pleasurable, to be sure. But not intoxicating.

He wants to reignite the intoxicating fires we dowsed last spring, when our son ran into trouble at school. And I would love to fan the embers and let them burn.

But I'm afraid. Is it reasonable to think that it will be different now? Safer? That circumstances are stable and secure . . . Is it prudent?

Are safety and prudence the goal?

What is the connection between our private sexual behavior as parents, and our children's behavior in the world? How do we measure the impact of our more extreme actions before it occurs?

Why am I so unwilling to let go?
 
"You don't allow yourself to feel pleasure. As soon as you start enjoying something, you want to stop."



My concept of pleasure is so rooted in intoxication and renunciation I think he's probably right.

Pleasure that leads to release frightens me because I think I'll lose myself in it (as I have many, many times before), so instead I restrain myself and focus on the very simple, mundane pleasures of ordinary life. A raven in the tree outside my window. A well-prepared meal. A smile or shared intimacy with a neighbor.

Pleasurable, to be sure. But not intoxicating.

He wants to reignite the intoxicating fires we dowsed last spring, when our son ran into trouble at school. And I would love to fan the embers and let them burn.

But I'm afraid. Is it reasonable to think that it will be different now? Safer? That circumstances are stable and secure . . . Is it prudent?

Are safety and prudence the goal?

What is the connection between our private sexual behavior as parents, and our children's behavior in the world? How do we measure the impact of our more extreme actions before it occurs?

Why am I so unwilling to let go?

Was there a direct connection between something going on in your relationship and your son's behavior in school? Or did you just feel that you weren't giving him enough attention?

I feel like there are probably so many different subtle influences that it's difficult to measure the impact of certain events.
 
Was there a direct connection between something going on in your relationship and your son's behavior in school? Or did you just feel that you weren't giving him enough attention?

I feel like there are probably so many different subtle influences that it's difficult to measure the impact of certain events.

I agree, but these are the main factors that trouble me.

When our game is fully on, I can become very preoccupied with my thoughts frequently returning to the devotional aspects of our sexual relationship. I do tend to respond more slowly to both my kids and other aspects of my life, which can allow problems to develop. (Call it "workaholism" if you want to give it another name.)

When I'm on the emotional roller coaster that our play can set in motion, I sometimes become volatile, losing my temper or bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. This is not a good thing, in my opinion, if it's directed towards the kids.

There are also various behavioral influences in the house, (i.e. the increased sexual charge, the gender-based role models, the power competition between my son and husband, etc.), that are absorbed and reflected (or rebelled against) in the kids' behaviors out in the world.

In the last year, we have significantly restricted our behavior, and - in my opinion - the kids are benefitting from a more stable, orderly environment, that is in large part, a product of the M/s discipline without the sexual excitement.

But. We're missing the excitement.

He wants to compartmentalize the sexual aspects of "slavery," creating strong enough boundaries so that we can contain the forces that are unleashed, and not let them disrupt our kids' lives. I want to think it's possible. I've thought that I've witnessed others who were able to do something along those lines, I've just never experienced it that way myself.

And I've taken a lot of heat over the last year as the "mother" of a kid who is having difficulties. It's really hard not to blame myself, and look for the reasons why I might be responsible. It's not too hard to point at my sexual behavior, and it's consequences.
 
Ok, thanks, I totally get that. Is there a way to have controlled chaos? Maybe you should only be allowed to go to a place of extremes (devotion, rage, whatever) for a certain period of time. I think that would kind of be hot.

Impossible?
 
I used to worry about similar issues myself, especially when subdrop would make me short or weepy.

I realized thought that, PMS makes me short tempered as well, and dealing with Hubby's bipolar is taking an even bigger toll on my own sanity. And all in all I think the dreamy state I was during the peak of Hubby and I power interaction (when I would be seeing the sadist but also other vanilla men for Hubby's entertainment) was a much better environment for the girls that my feeling incredibly frustrated and powerless and trapped that I'm experiencing now (my meeting with the Sadist are on hold ...).

What I'm trying to say is that, perhaps when your game was full on there were consequences. But now that both you and your husband are feeling frustrated from the lack of it, there are other consequences as well.

And I'm probably not a very good mom, but I believe kids don't need a necessarily totally perfect home, as far as love and care are present. Life is not perfect and often unfair, people make mistakes at times even dictated by love, and what matter the most is taking responsibility, apologizing and working to make things better. And keep doing your best.
 
His choice has been a steady routine of light play that he calls "conditioning and discipline," and a tightening of the relationship. Though the physical and emotional extremes are held like tantalizing carrots on the proverbial stick, it is in fact a very comforting and stabilizing routine.

And I am still filled with sadness and some fear as I watch my children grow up.

(I have got to stop spoiling it for them. . . . :eek:)
 
from "Letters to a Young Poet"

. . .

There is probably no point in my going into your questions now; for what I could say about your tendency to doubt or about your inability to bring your outer and inner lives into harmony or about all the other thing that oppress you - : is just what I have already said: just the wish that you may find in yourself enough patience to endure and enough simplicity to have faith; that you may gain more and more confidence in what is difficult and in your solitude among other people. And as for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is in the right, always.

And about feelings: All feelings that concentrate you and lift you up are pure; only that feeling is impure which grasps just one side of your being and thus distorts you. Everything you can think of as you face your childhood, is good. Everything that makes more of you than you have ever been, even in your best hours, is right. Every intensification is good, if it is in your entire blood, if it isn't intoxication or muddiness, but joy which you can see into, clear to the bottom. Do you understand what I mean?

And your doubt can become a good quality if you train it. It must become knowing, it must become criticism. Ask it, whenever it wants to spoil something for you, why something is ugly, demand proofs from it, test it, and you will find it perhaps bewildered and embarrassed, perhaps also protesting. But don't give in, insist on arguments, and act in this way, attentive and persistent, every single time, and the day will come when instead of being a destroyer, it will become one of your best workers - perhaps the most intelligent of all the ones that are building your life.

. . .

Yours,
Rainer Maria Rilke
 
Mike (Eastern Sun's Master): That was great sex we had the other night!

Eastern Sun: (Gazing out our bedroom window) Will you look at that tree! I love looking at trees.

(As recalled, with some literary license, by Damian Can. She denies having said "Will you look at that tree.")
 
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(It's true. The wind was in the aspen leaves and they were shimmering in the sunlight. I said, "yes, look at those leaves. I love looking at the leaves on trees."

As soon as I spoke, he walked over the computer, logged on, and started writing. . .

"What are you writing?"

"You'll have to read it."

"Will I be embarrassed?"

"Yep."

Ok. It's true. I am embarrassed.)

*******************************
I am trying so hard to hold on to the telling of my own story. Even as I give up my claims on the direction of my future, I resist giving up the power of creating the narrative of my past.

When I read his post, I said, "Hey, I didn't say - Would you look at that tree?" And he said, "I know, but that's the funny part." In his view, it didn't matter whether his words were accurate, because he felt he captured the withering quality of the moment.

I, on the other hand, didn't want to be re-written, even if I do resemble his remarks.
 
I am trying so hard to hold on to the telling of my own story. Even as I give up my claims on the direction of my future, I resist giving up the power of creating the narrative of my past.

But don't you see? It's not the giving up at all. It's the gaining of yourself. It's the unselfishness of the act of sharing it.
That power is a useless one unless you allow it to reveal to you....
aspects of yourself and of your life
that will be impossible for you to recognize, in any other way.
 
Daddy reads most of my posts on fetlife.

Mostly he just winks at me because we have a secret.

i used to write knowing he might read it. i don't anymore. i write for me. i write who i am. The little girl who's Daddy loves her and has a secret with her.
 
For those who were glad to see this thread disappear . . . please forgive me.

As the kids settle back into school, I have been wanting to write, to dig deeper into this aspect of my experience, but felt a little self-conscious about bringing back this thread. With all that gathering of potential energy, though, all I needed was just a little push (the tiniest push) to start the ball rolling back down that Sisyphean hill. :rose:

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm not a very good conversationalist. I can't figure out how to do the back and forth part with any sense of ease and grace. I can listen. And I can talk. But I watch with awe at the relationship-building repartee, debate and dialogue that takes place here. There is a very subtle and constant shift in "power" in the give-and-take in any good conversation. And I have to wonder, in my own life, which came first - the desire to live in a power exchange or the clumsiness I feel in those subtle conversational shifts.
 
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