"Anniversary" doesn't begin to express its importance

Nine years ago November 29, I went on a blind date, arranged by the woman who had been my Mentor as a BDSM practitioner. She had become quite the Mentor in the Ohio/Midwest community, and seemed to know everyone. She knew my life-transition had moved me to
Cincinnati and that there was this wonderful woman, Teresa, who lived near there, and that she had never been appreciated as she should have been as a lover.



We connected first via email and the phone, and set up this date November 29, 1998 at the Middletown, Ohio Olive Garden restaurant. It was the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend 1998. I met her and we began a conversation that never ended (I'm a talker, which was what our "broker"had warned her).



We became one. March 20, 1999 she became my collared submissive at a commuinity gathering at Black Rose. In February, 2000 she almost died. She had the evil immune to antibiotics bacterial infection MRSA, that has gained so much press coverage in the last 6 months, way before it was "Kewl." After 6 months off work (for her) and home based care (where I became skilled at adminisatering IV's and changing infected wound packings) she survived!!!!! I'd been told she had less than 10% probability of survival and we got through it.



In the midst of it the staff of the agency I directed, contacted me and said they had studied on line T's diagnoses, and they requested my calendar. They took over every appointment and responsibility they could to let me deal with t's illness. I've loved them all as people who have shared the mission of my agency, and who would go beyond what is expected of them to support a co-worker, even their boss.

The following year, having lived together for a couple of years, we married.

She saved my life during my transition from being a very invovled "super-dad" to a noncustodial parent due to the end of my first marriage. I discovered new self-worth and value to my life through her love and joyous approach to our lives.

She gave me the gift of her love for me. She gave me her companionship and tremendous friendship. She gives me those gifts everyday today.

She gave me another gift that is greater still. I recently was reading a discussion about polyamory that lead me to realize a new twist to defining polyamory. Polyamory is when a love partner treats his or her partner's new love as a joyous gift, and not as a threat to their relationship. When my love for swan evolved she accepted it, embraced it, and joined with swan as her sister in loving me. How she found the strength, maturity, empathy, and generosity of spirit to embrace sue's and my love and use it to make ours stronger, is a mystery that amazes and humbles me, and makes me more and more grateful every day.

This is so much more than the ninth anniversary of our meeting. It is in so many ways a new birthday for me. It is the birthday of my new life which has been the ultimate of my existance.

I love you teresa.........mores & mores.

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.

Mojo?

Did you know that the slang word "mojo" originated in the deep south, and was first used to mean "a snapping turtle in a whiskey bottle?" Now, it has a wide range of meanings, but generally it implies a quality of personal charm, charisma, or energy -- especially if used to describe the more sexual aspects of a person or their sexual performance.

I was all set to take off on a post about "getting my mojo back..." taking a page from kaya's book, but I thought I better check out exactly what that might mean first. After all, "mojo" is not a word that my generation used much -- make that AT ALL, and as I thought about it, I wasn't entirely sure I had my slang-ology down.

Now, as it turns out, I am sort of taken with that "snapping turtle in a whiskey bottle" imagery, but that may have to wait for another post... Hold that thought.

No. I'm up to talking about spanking right now. Because I've been thinking about spanking. A lot. A lot more. All the time. Well OK. Maybe not all the time, but way more than I have been for a very long time, and not in the same sort of negative, live through it, because I promised, have to do it or lose my place, kind of way that I have been. I've been thinking about spanking in ways that make my insides twist and my gut churn and my pussy get hot. Yeah. Me. Hot. Wow!

And nobody is more surprised by that development than me. Because I have come to believe that those days were long gone. Vanished in the mists of another life and another time.

Except that just lately, there have been these sort of fleeting thoughts about paddles and the way it would feel if He would just bend me over or roll me over or flip me over or... Well, yeah... Paddles. And, sometimes, the thoughts aren't all that fleeting either. Sometimes there is yearning, longing, hunger. I remember. Being hungry.

And there have been months and months and months where the spankings have been something that I've endured, and something that He has measured carefully so as not to cross whatever boundary there was that neither of us could see or define or understand. So that hunger is a familiar, but long-absent and oh-so-welcome visitor in our lives.

But, Saturday, I showed up ill. Not just kind of puny, but really ill. I woke up feeling like I had a bit of a cold. That was not an issue. We played just the same. But by afternoon, I was really feeling achy and crummy. Then He left to drag the accumulated trash to the dumpster, and I went to get a shower. I stood under the hot water and suddenly the world spun and turned gray and fuzzy. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, I went to the floor of the shower, and simply let myself lay limp on the floor rather than fall. T found me there, and the alarms were sounded. He went immediately from sadistic Master to concerned and worried lover and I was on my way to the urgent care center before I could muster a counter-argument. It turned out to be nothing very serious, probably some sort of virus, or perhaps a "hydration" issue, but whatever, I was clearly limp and pale and not up for much in the way of "play." Sunday was better but He was having none of it. By dinner time, I was to the point of "asking" for the spanking that I was longing for -- but, of course, we needed to visit Grandma and eat dinner and watch the Sunday night football game (Eagles at Patriots)...

Spanking does not happen when I am sick and it does NOT happen when there is football on TV. Nothing happens when there is football on TV! Get real! I tried to stay awake until the end of the game, but I never did see the last plays. I fell asleep still wishing for that spanking.

He was awake early. Stressing over the seemingly never-ending CRAP that is His working life these days. By 4:30, He was tired of lying awake and decided to get up and go organize His day. When He moved to get out of the bed, I woke up. We talked some, and I gradually came up out of the deep sleep I'd been in when He first moved. I rubbed His back and He became less and less inclined to leave. I finally worked up the courage to suggest that He might give me the spanking that we'd talked about the night before. He didn't need me to ask twice. All thoughts of organizing His day seemed to vanish. He did ask if I needed the rock, and I told Him it didn't matter. I really just wanted His hands on me. So, over the pillows I went and we were off.

He began with a hand spanking and then moved on to a strap. Then He began fussing -- looking for some of His Hanson Paddles. Clearly, He wasn't finding what He was wanting. I always find that situation difficult -- I never know whether to get up and offer to help Him find whatever He's looking for, or stay put and let Him deal with it. This time, I was in a mind space that felt "there," and I opted to just try and keep calm and stay right where I was. He eventually made some choice of paddles (there must be a couple dozen at least) and came back t0 me. I felt my mind "buck" at the start of the paddling, but then there was a flip over place and I shifted to a sense of the powerful burn of the strokes and suddenly the whole thing was on a different level.

And then He was done. Ready to fuck. Except He really wasn't. The nonsense with the paddles had stolen the magic hard on. It ain't all that easy, children. And I was knowing that we were up against the Monday morning clock thing. Talk about pressure! We didn't start all that smoothly or well. It took a couple of tries before we got the rhythm and pattern down and fell into sync with one another. And... then... we were there! Together, in perfect time with each other, sensing one another's rising energies, following the lead, one after the other, up and up -- until we hit the summit together. And not only the climax, but gushing and flooding and flowing with an absolute shattering orgasm... an event that has not happened once in the last two years.

What a way to start the work week... Makes waking up early a glad event. Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy!

swan

Unexplainable Neighbor Lady

This year's Thanksgiving Story generated some wonderful comments. I especially appreciated m:e's phrasing: "family of the heart" really does ring true for my life. I have very little linkage to the family that "bore" me, and really, only the ones that I bore into the world still have connection to me within the family that I set out to create as an "adult." So, this family that I have chosen, and that chooses me, really is the family that is real and present in my life. And, I still (at the age of 52) miss those ones that I grew up with. It is silly, but it is the simple truth.



But it is this question from maripose that I want to try to answer here:

I wonder if you might mind writing about how you do get into that calm space
to be the "unexplainable neighbor lady." I am in a very new poly triad and was
invited to the festivities at my couple's home. I came as a friend, but between
wondering if choosing against my current family was a mistake (I'm quite close
to them, but decided not to spend this holiday with them) and agonizing over not
being able to show the affection I felt for both people.... it was painful at
times. I thought I was joining my sort of new family for a holiday, and yet was
there as a friend only. How do you do it?

I think there are a lot of "levels" to this. There are a lot of hows and whys to the doing of this, and so it isn't all ONE thing.

Part of the answer to the question is that I'm not "new" at this, and so there are patterns and habits that can be called upon to help navigate this particular situation. We spend a very great deal of our lives "hiding in plain sight" -- pretending, for reasons of our own, to be friends or colleagues or neighbors, but not lovers and life partners. It does get easier to do with long and repeated practice. We have developed the tricks that help us negotiate various situations where we need to not touch one another with intimacy and familiarity. We know how to interact in public at a level that belies our deep, daily personal closeness. It is a skill -- one which we've practiced and gotten good at. It isn't a thing we particularly enjoy, but we've learned to do it with less stress than we used to experience.

At another level, doing the "unexplainable neighbor lady" routine requires me to visibly relinquish the "place" which I normally occupy within the family in order not to upset the order that allows us to go on living our lives in relative peace. We understand, between us, that while there might not be any actual costs in some circumstances for me to be identified as what I am, there are intangible costs that aren't worth the ruckus it would create. Me showing up overtly as "the other wife" would just upset Grandpa, and wouldn't really gain anything tangible. I could get all bent out of shape over that on philosophical grounds -- after all, He proudly shows off the other things that belong to Him, so why not me, but really what's the point? It doesn't gain me anything and it would just cause pain. That seems like a simple decision. So part of the process is about making logical decisions about cost and benefit like a grown up.

Then, of course, there is some part of this that is really grounded in feeling sure and secure. I'm here. I've been here for a good long while now. I'm not going anywhere. Neither is anyone else. We're pretty settled. That makes it easier, I think, to just kind of go with the flow. The other benefit that comes out of that is that, while I'm "unexplainable," I've been around long enough that I'm sort of a fixture. I may not be easy to explain, but I'm sort of becoming expected. Even by the kids and the ex-wife and the Grandparents. So. Less of an issue all the time. No clearcut label to be applied. Still no explanation for my presence, but less discomfort, too.

I also think, I've gotten better about knowing that it is coming, and preparing myself for what it takes to do it. I know where the emotional landmines are for me -- the baggage that is part of my history, and the stuff that is attached to my place in our lifestyle. I notice my annual grief about the loss (sixteen years ago) of my brother, Gregg. I take note of the place where I can still get wound up over how crazy my mother makes me -- even though I don't have contact with her. I try to get in touch with my grown kids because I really do miss them as the holidays approach. Just like we lay in supplies, and clean the place up, and plan menus, and iron the giant linen table cloth, and do all the other preparatory work, I tend to find some time ahead of the actual event to curl into His arms and His presence and just get the reassurance that I need that (whatever the world sees and thinks) I am as "real" as can be to Him. I know and understand that it is a silly bit of nonsense, but hearing it and having it affirmed helps me get it setttled in my own head -- and then I can just go on with it.

And then -- I launch full speed ahead into the business of making it happen. T cooks and I cook and we work our butts off to pull it all off. There isn't time to get wrapped up in your own self-absorbed bullshit when you are focused on pulling off the family gathering. When everyone gathers around the table, all I can think about is whether it is all there -- the rolls, the dressing, the cranberry sauce, the champagne, the butter turkey, the green bean casserole, the sweet potatoes... Is it all there and is it all ok? Focus, focus, focus! and then it is over and they are all gone home, and we take a deep breath, and I wonder if it was all alright.

That's how I do it.

swan

A Poly Survey?

Recently, there was a request to participate in a research survey about jealousy in polyamorous relationships. It came across one of the lists that we take part in and is being conducted by a woman who is in the final year of a graduate program. We tend to try to "help" with these kinds of efforts just because there is such a dearth of reliable information available about the lifestyle.

So, I followed her link and clicked my way through her survey questions, fussing and fuming more and more the further I went -- because she clearly had a picture of what polyamory is all about when she set up her survey, and her questions were entirely reflective of her assumptions, and completely not applicable to the way our lives work.

The survey was all full of vocabulary like "primary partner" and "secondary partner," and then posited all kinds of provocative situations in which the "secondary" would be treated in ways which might seem to be more favorable than the treatment given to the "primary." Good grief! Is the question about whether there is a greater potential for jealousy to occur within poly relationships, or simply whether it is possible, given grievously bad behavior on the part of one member of a poly relationship dynamic, to create jealous responses in other partners? Duh! Talk about bias!

There was no potential to discuss a dynamic in which partners were essentially on equal footing and the relationship structured to (at least most of the time) meet the needs of all the partners. It was, simply, a "poly" survey written by someone who was obviously imagining the whole business from a monogamous frame of reference.

I really wonder about the sort of "data" the person will gather with that research instrument, and what kinds of conclusions she will draw. I wonder if she has done any preliminary research that might give her some sort of perspective about the lifestyle so that she could better understand the ways in which those of us who live poly lives do this. It isn't hard. A simple Internet search sent me off to this pretty good, easily accessible article. Sheesh! There is really no excuse at all to just assume that everyone who is poly does the "primary" / "secondary" thing. That is just ignorant.

Maybe I'm just feeling tender. Having had the bad experience that I had with the crappy therapist from hell just a few weeks back, I don't feel especially patient with this sort of thing. There needs to be better information and understanding of this life choice. It is a GOOD thing to be doing the kind of research that this woman proposes to do, but there is no value at all in doing it badly. Research that perpetuates stupid stereotypes and ignorance is not going to help anyone.

Grrrrrrr...

swan

And That was Thanksgiving

The dishes are all washed and the leftovers are all packed up and bundled away into the refrigerators. Once again, we've managed to gather the odds and ends of the "family" together in our home and produce the feast that commemorates the thanksgiving holiday.

This year, we had Grandpa, and both the kids, the boyfriend who has been around long enough now that we're starting to feel like he belongs to us all, and the ex-wife (mother of the kids). It was a smaller gathering than we've had in some years. Notably absent from our table -- grandma who can no longer leave the alzheimer's unit at the nursing home to join in our celebrations, the other grandma (mother of the ex-wife) who is and has been "terminally" ill with cancer for well over a year, and the former very long term girlfriend of the boy-chick who had become a seemingly permanent fixture at our table.

T and I did our usual two kitchen close-order drill, producing a meal that includes more food than thirty people could put away at one meal, much less the eight who were actually gathered around the table this afternoon. From appetizers to desserts, it was a culinary triumph, and nobody went away hungry. We had great fun together, regaled, for the most part by stories of the recent successful birth of the very first batch of baby seahorses in the household of Master's daughter. The process of getting seahorses pregnant and then through the business of birthing the little devils is simply ridiculous -- and hearing her go through the whole long story, especially after a bit of champagne, was sufficient to get us all howling.

We finished our meal, had our dessert, and then a contingent of us went to visit Grandma at the home. Armed with dessert and hot tea, we ventured forth into the chilly evening and spent a pleasant hour or so chatting with her. She was happy and sociable, and the conversation was entirely bizarre but pleasant. As we prepared to leave, she grabbed my hand and asked me if I liked to swear. She assured me that there were no people there that knew how to swear, but that she was very good at it, and that if I enjoyed swearing, I should come back sometime, and she and I could swear together -- after all, it is good for headaches. Oh my. I assured her that I would, indeed, return another time, and we could swear if she felt like it.

It was, all in all, a good day. There are things about this whole holiday business that I find terribly difficult. I always confront the memory of my brother's death on the evening before Thanksgiving. I tend to notice the estrangement from my family as the holidays begin to gear up and other folks start nestling into their extended connections. I find the distance from my adult children is hard at this time of the year, even though I barely notice it for the other ten or eleven months. I have to talk to myself in very specific ways to get into the calm space that allows me to don the camouflage of "unexplainable nice neighbor lady," for these family gatherings. Add all of that to the fact that Thanksgiving comes right on the heels of three long, intense days of parent / teacher conferences at school, and I approach this day with a sense of feeling shaky and stressed. When we come to this point -- on the other side -- it always feels like I've cleared a huge hurdle and can simply breathe a sigh of relief.

I hope your day was good. I hope you found joy in those who you shared your day with.

swan

Learning

We are finding our way. Slowly. Together.

One of the hurdles for me and for us, in the last couple of years, has been figuring out how I could ask for what I wanted and needed sexually, and in terms of our SM play -- without feeling like I was "topping from the bottom," or putting Him in the position of "Service Top." As my sensitivities, responses, needs, and capacities changed, I really needed to be able to show Him what was good / not good for me, and tell Him what I wanted and needed. Unfortunately, there were impossible "standards" and expectations that I had built up in my head and in my imaginings that left me feeling like doing that would betray everything I'd said I was when I committed to be His slave. It was a ridiculous dilemma -- I couldn't change the "rules," and I couldn't live up to them either.

AND all of that was my doing. I was the one that was setting all of that up in my own mind. He was, I think, desperate to know what to do to re-establish some footing for the two of us that would make it possible for us to reconnect and move forward. The information that I couldn't and wouldn't share kept us stuck for an awfully long time.

I've begun to find my voice, and to trust that speaking to Him of my needs and wants can work to our mutual benefit -- that giving voice to my needs and longings is not necessarily a "wresting of control" away from Him, but is really giving Him the information that He needs to steer us in the direction that works for us both. I've remembered (how could I have ever forgotten) that just because I mention a thing that I might want or like doesn't obligate Him to do it for me -- that the choosing remains entirely His. The result -- we are rediscovering that our play and our power exchange is not merely about M/s, about obedience, about SM... it is also about joy and delight and eroticism and connection and wonder and contentment.

That is how it happened that last weekend I spent Saturday night sleeping in wrist cuffs. Not intensely restrained, but only gently and subtly so. I'd murmured, quietly, as we were falling asleep, that if we were going to spank in the morning I would like it if I could be restrained -- please, Sir? He pulled me close and assured me that, of course, that would be fine. Then He asked me if I needed to have the restraints to sleep in. I hadn't even thought about that -- we never do that. My mind whirled in a dozen different directions at once, and all I could do was burrow deeper into the warmth and security of His chest. He heard and understood the catch in my breathing, and chose to put the cuffs on me. With complete seriousness, He explained to me what He expected --

"I'm putting these on you and I don't want you to take them off, but you understand that IF there were an emergency there is absolutely nothing that would keep you from being able to get out of these cuffs."

"Yes, Sir," I replied. We have to be so careful, and so aware of our own mortality these days.

By the time the morning arrived, I was feeling ready to bring up another request. One of the things that I'd been struggling with was the pervasive feeling that our SM play was all pain and no pleasure. I'd come to feel that most of the time it was a matter of "living through it," hoping to get out the other side well enough that He wouldn't be "disappointed" in me. Most of the time, I end up feeling that sessions begin fast and move along at a speed that leaves me behind right from the start. Metaphorically, the train pulls out and leaves me on the platform. I don't ever "get on the train," and I never, ever arrive at the "destination."

I've kept telling myself that a "good" slave wouldn't care about any of that -- a "good" slave would be happy that the Master was getting something out of it all. It has seemed clear that He was getting plenty out of things the way they were, and I was definitely not getting "happy" as things went along, so by definition, I was a CRAPPY slave.

Still, I was ready to risk asking for something different last weekend -- just one shot at something that might change things enough to let me "get on the train."

Some of you might remember my "rock collection." I've got a small but well loved collection of phallic rocks. I am absolutely sure I am not the first woman to own these "fellows." I cannot imagine that there has ever been a red-blooded female that would have stumbled upon these lovelies that didn't pick them up and cherish them for exactly the same reason that I did and do...

So, last Sunday, I asked if, before things got going, it would be OK if I put one of the rocks in my pussy. I told Him that I thought it might help me feel like the whole thing was "sexier" and give me a way to work with the sensations in a different place. For just a second, I think He was surprised, and a little taken aback. I was afraid He'd be grossed out or something, but He was glad to let me try it, and so soon I was happily cradling a phallic stone deep inside me, and presented for His pleasure.

He just couldn't resist the urge to play with the darned thing, and I was soon panting and gasping. By the time the spanking began, I was more than ready to get on the train. He went after me with enthusiasm -- strap and paddle and cane, and I was right there. Things that would have left me in tears simply took me higher and higher, and when it was done, I was entirely exhausted and sated and fully sure that I was indeed -- His.

swan

Sucks to get old

I haven't been around here lately. I have been busy. I peek in occasionally, read, make sure everyone is "playing nice" and leave. I have modified my work schedule and am now on 4 10 hour shifts so I can have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. I usually spend my Friday doing the bulk of the family shopping for the week, some laundry, the day's dinner, and visiting Tom's Mom.

If you have been around for awhile, you are aware of the fact that Tom's Mom has Alzheimer's. Some days are "OK" and some days are, well, pretty miserable. Today was a crappy day for Mom. She fell out of bed. You see, she doesn't remember that she cannot walk anymore. When you talk to her, she will tell you she spent her day cooking, or moving, or working in the garden. But, alas, she has done none of those things. She spends her days in a locked ward, where we have to enter a code to gain entrance to her world. A world she doesn't know, she never remembers she has a room there, little alone which room is hers. She is cold all the time and frequently bundled in another resident's sweater. Because she doesn't know who's clothing is who's, so it must all be hers.

Today I found her in bed. After an x-ray, verifying that all bones were where they belonged and not broken. She is sad. And tired. Yesterday she told Tom's Dad that she wanted to die. And I would think that if it were me, and in the brief moments of clarity, I would feel the same. Words are hard for her, some days. And in times like that, she and I just sit and hold hands. She calls me her friend, a nice lady. And in these moments she knows I love her and wish her well.

I wish I could make her future brighter, easier, and warmer. I wish I could take away the pain and the forgetfulness and bring back the feisty little old lady who didn't particularly care for me, when I first met her son. But I can't.

So, for now, I will hold her hands to keep her warm. Be her friend, a nice lady. And listen to the stories about all the dead relatives who visited her just this afternoon. It is the best I can do. It is the LEAST I can do.

T

What Makes Master Cry?

We just bought Tom Brokaw's new book about the baby boom generation -- what some call a "virtual reunion" of the sixties: "BOOM."

We are reading it out loud together. An interesting experience.

All of us have varying perspectives on the sixties. Our ages are different enough that we came through that decade at different levels of awareness and understanding. Our experiences of the events of those years are very different.

For Himself, the oldest of our family, the memories remain powerfully evocative and emotionally laden. For Him, the 1960's were a time of political waking up and coming to conciousness that shaped everything that He came to be. What happened in the streets of those years, forged the Man who has dedicated His life to creating the vision He came to believe in so many years ago.

And so, as we began to read what is seemingly a very self-absorbed Tom Brokaw personal memoir, we came upon the famous imperative from President John Kennedy's speech of January, 1961:

ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your
country

Suddenly, He was in tears -- sobbing. That call to action meant something to Him as a young man. He took it to heart, and steered His course by those words. He has done that His whole life... lived asking what it was that He could do. He's done more, I think, than many -- than most. Continues to do that. After more than 30 years, He continues to work to create a vision of a community that includes and embraces and lives up to the best that it could and should be. It isn't a course that has led to great wealth, surely. We live modestly compared to many. It is, however, a course that has paid dividends in friendships forged, in stories to tell, in accomplishments to point to.

From a youth spent believing that change could and must happen, through a career believing that change could and must happen -- this Man has lived a life that has followed a path that has been true and brave. It is an accomplishment of which He can be justly proud. I know that I am most sincerely proud of Him, and proud to belong to Him.

swan

Exploring Together

In just over a month, it will be two years since I had surgery that changed the world for me in terms of my sexuality, and set off a cascade of emotional responses that have rocked me and set the two of us on our heads in terms of how to manage our power exchange relationship. Two years is a long time -- longer, surely, than we ever expected for this recovery to take. Still, I am convinced that I am healed in terms of the physical aftermath of the surgery, and I really do think that I am coming through much of the emotional turmoil that resulted from the negative impacts of that surgical event.

He and I have come to understand, that we have a path to walk together if we want to go forward from this point as lovers. That is the part of all of this that has been complicated and challenging for both of us -- it is one thing to simply look at the relational power dynamics and note what is and is not "possible" within the boundaries of that agreement. He can, surely, simply make a decision or choice about what He will do with regard to me, and that is that. He could have done that at any point within the last two years. What I want, need, like, think, or feel about any of that does not really enter into the parameters of THAT power dynamic. Simple.

Except that it is not that simple. He loves me. I love Him. We are partners, friends, lovers -- even as we are Master and slave. I know that there are those, within the lifestyle, who insist that power exchange and love are mutually exclusive. I do think that it may be far easier for the Dominant side of a power exchange dynamic to inflict pain and exert control when there is no emotional attachment or feeling for the submissive partner. I have seen Master struggle with His own uncertainties about what to do with regard to my ambivalence, fear, panic, anger, emotional volatility, and frustration in these last two years. How much easier it would have been for Him, if He had not cared -- truly and passionately cared -- for me at the same time that He wanted and intended that we would once again move forward as Master and slave. He has consistently worked to find the way forward for us both -- even when I was actively or passively undermining that effort.

It does feel, though, that we've begun to turn the corner. Hopefully, I'm not jinxing things by giving voice to that . I'm feeling more balanced, and more centered, day by day. I have been taking St. John's Wort for the last couple of weeks, and I've added fish oil to my regimen. I am trying to get more exercise (although that is not a very consistent thing as yet). I am enough of a skeptic to seriously question if a couple weeks of a few supplements can be given credit for the transformation that is beginning to manifest in our world. Definitely, He is reaching out to make it clear that I am His and that He will exercise control over my life when and as He sees fit. That is not a big, overt, high-end shift -- really most of what has shifted on that front is pretty subtle, but the sense is that my center is solid again.

Too, He and I are beginning to explore the simple sexual parts of our relating. For a good part of this last couple of years, we've slowly let the sex play and foreplay parts of our time together just go away. I didn't know what would and would not work, and really couldn't tell Him how things functioned anymore. I was scared about how fragile the new me might be for any kind of rough play, and I've consistently cringed away from most of what we used to routinely do... Orgasms have gotten harder and harder to come by, and the incentive for Him to even mess with me just hasn't been there. Let's face it, I haven't exactly been the hottest sex partner on the planet. Losing the "sexy" parts of life has impacted the SM side of things too -- when nothing ever gets to feel good, it gets harder and harder to keep "going to the well" of masochistic pain and submission. That part of our life is shifting though. He's begun to reclaim the body that is His. He's began to explore and push past my fears and nervousnsess, insisting that I give Him honest feedback about what feels good for me. We are finally exploring together in territory that has been left pretty well "virgin" for the last couple of years. And, (surprise surprise) I am beginning to imagine the things that I want again, and they are surely NOT vanilla. We've rediscovered the pure joy of playing while we play and it is leaving us feeling amazed and connected in ways that we have not been for a long, long time...

We've had a couple of really good weekend sessions. We've had a couple of encounters where we both managed to achieve release sexually (although He frequently whines about the aftermath of this), and where we managed to take our SM play to a level that we've seldom managed without real anger and bitterness in the last months. In the spaces in between, we are finding ourselves smiling, laughing, talking, touching, and simply enjoying one another more.

To me, it is all feeling like some sort of odd and fragile magic. I am uncertain where the magic is coming from, and so I am not sure whether I trust it. I do know, however, that right now, it feels good to be living in this magical place.

swan

An Interesting and Varied Set of Comments...

I am, generally, dreadful at replying to comments left here on the blog. I hate doing those sort of "thank you for being so nice," kind of trite sounding nods that most of my responses end up being when so many of you invest the time and energy to put your words here in answer to something that I've written. This time, however, I am feeling supported (as I so often am), encouraged, and intrigued by the various reflections that have come back in response to the last post. So, I'd like to just talk my way through the whole set of comments...



littleone said...
you hadn't written in so long i was going to email you.. but i was so wrapped up in my own world.. i kept putting it off.. i hope you will forgive me for not checking in...... i honestly and truly hope that His control and your desire will bring you all back to the road of imagination once more.. you know i am here and supporting you through every bump and bruise and stumble (even if i don't always write)......... morningstar (owned by Warren)co-owner of drakor

5:44 AM



Nothing to forgive, my friend. I check in, and seldom find words to offer on your adventures these days. I hope you understand. I am simply speechless, honestly. Not "put off," but surely left without much to offer that seems valuable or useful. Oh -- I did spend some time with a Domme in Denver who taught me some interesting CBT tricks. Perhaps, should we ever have the opportunity to actually connect in person, we could show you how those work?

As for the bumps, bruises, and stumbles on this end -- I have dragged my feet and flailed and caused a good deal of the stumbling. Still, even as clumsy as we've been, we've traveled this far together, and we've learned along the way. We've been most grateful for your support and that of your Sir. The number of friends who have stayed with us through all of this is not large. So you are all the more precious for your steadfastness. Know, please, how very deeply that is appreciated...


Tangerine Tease said...
Swan...you are so intensely complex. I want for you to live the life of your dreams, whatever that life may be.I believe in the love that I see around the three of you. I see it making a path and unfolding before you saying "This is the way. Follow me...."Lots of hugs from over here...
1:14 PM



Tangerine -- "Complex" is one way to name it. Synonymous for "difficult" or "challenging" or just plain old "a pain in the neck." I made a lot of promises as I came to this. I never did promise to be "easy." There are times when I think He finds the complexity of my thinking and my mental pathways. Of course, there are other times when I am quite sure He would cheerfully throttle me -- or at the minimum, beat the living daylights out of me for being so utterly opaque... Thank you for all the good wishes -- especially when I know you don't entirely understand some of what your "Klingon" friends are up to half the time ;-)


Carrie Ann said...
Ahhhh, Swan...Such a beautiful post.I can utterly relate and found myself smiling toward the end.Sometimes it takes that utter destruction to find the right path again.I'm glad you guys have and wish you the best of luck staying on it with your feet firm and your hearts light.A friend of mine always said "Cara, this D/s shit is not an easy walk thru the woods at dawn. It's a fuckin' goat path with ruts and turns and holes you can fall into. All you can do is stay on the path no matter how hard it seems and trust that it'll take you where you want to go".So true, I've found.I wouldn't trade it for an easy hike, though. I bet you wouldn't, either. :)
1:19 PM



Carrie -- I am so glad that you have found your way to me and us. There are so few who actually "get" what this is all about, and I really value the companions on the path. I find your "goat path" analogy intriguing, but then I often find the pathway imagery to be useful as I talk and think about this whole business, and this is surely no "garden path." So thank you. I am most grateful for your company.


Anonymous said...
does T ever get a look in?



My inclination is to ignore this. However, against my better judgement, I will try to address it in some part.



Polyamory creates multiple relationship dynamics. We have the large family dynamic that exists between the three of us. There are also pair dynamics between each set of two of us. Master and I engage in an M/s relationship, while Master and T practice a D/s power exchange dynamic between them. The relationships are specific and unique and distinct. The M/s that He and I engage in has different parameters. We understand the differences. We know what those are, and we respect and support that for one another. I don't know exactly what the question is meant to imply. I suspect that it is "antagonistic" and intended to be negative. That aside, the nature of the M/s dynamic that Master and I are involved in impacts the two of us, although surely, the health and vitality of our basic foundational relating has reverberations within the family. Insofar as that is true, T does surely have an investment. If He and I are at odds, the whole household is going to be tilted.

wandering traveler said...
dear you 3,you have been on my mind. what a challenging passage! right to the very growing edge. i sincerely hope that each of you find your heart's truest expression.
7:12 PM

Traveler -- Maya Lin says it: "To fly, we have to have resistance." If that is true, then this family must be getting ready to take off and soar, don't you think?

swan

Living the Life We've Imagined

He has, for years, signed off with that tag line... "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined."


It is easier to say than it is to do, as it turns out.



The life we imagined some six or seven years ago was not at all what life itself chose to hand us in the event. The hurdles have been higher and closer together than we ever dreamed they might be, and while we are sturdy and resilient people, there comes a time when things wear on you and the imagining starts to get harder and harder.


I have been particularly guilty of looking backward with longing more than I've looked forward with "imagination." That has ended up keeping us in a continual loop of bitterness and frustration that really has kept us from living the life we might have imagined IF we'd imagined any life at all in the forward sense.


There are some tricky places to the relational power dynamic that He and I engage in. Our particular orientations are closely aligned, but not exactly so. He is an inveterate spanko and sadist with a very Dominant (controlling) personality. However, He is not primarily driven by control urges -- He controls as He needs to in order to satisfy His desire to spank. I am inherently a control freak who is driven by the need for a strong Dominant force to allow me a safe place into which I can relinquish power. The masochism that forms a deep and dark core of my sensual and sexual nature, is a reflection of the drive to have the control taken from my hands. I don't respond, in the first sense, to the pain -- rather to the loss of control that the pain brings/implies.


We have struggled in the last months; struggled to find a shared path, a shared vision, a shared understanding; a shared imagining for our lives together. We have struggled to even communicate what it was that was out of sync between us, and the knowledge that we were missing that mark with each other has only served to ratchet up the level of fear and frustration on both sides.


He has done everything He has done with the very best of good intentions; fearful for my health and well-being (emotional and physical), He has lightened up and pulled back and relaxed in a hundred different ways -- accommodated until the framework that might once have conveyed certainty and security to my very core, has been stripped to almost nothing. Not that there is any blame -- I've fought and spit and hissed like the wounded animal I've been; all claws and fangs and scraggly-looking fur... The fun and playful companion that He thought He was getting back six years ago has turned into a worry and a drag.

I've tried, in a couple dozen completely ineffective ways to convey to Him just how lost and cut lose I've felt, and how desperately I've needed to have more, not less, of His guidance and input -- but terror is not a particularly eloquent state from which to begin a conversation. Worse, as I've sensed His drawing away, I've fallen into my own natural control mode, snatching the control from His hands anytime and anywhere He will let me. Each and everytime that happens, and I "win" the power battle, I become more frightened, and less sure of the foundation upon which I've built my life.


And so things spin further and further out of control.


Saturday was bad. Really bad.


We'd had a very long, difficult week, and we were both looking forward to a chance to reconnect and play and spend some time together as Master and slave, as lovers, as partners. But we hadn't talked, and we weren't nearly on the same page, and all the agendas were spinning in the air around us, and the stories that I've been telling myself were all playing loudly in my head... None of that makes for an easy session, and things went south really fast. By the time it was over with, I'd busted up the relationship, piled the pieces into a heap, poured gasoline over the whole mess, and set it on fire.


Luckily, we are two damned stubborn people. He is even more stubborn than me, mercifully. There is no "quit" in the man, and He really does believe in living that imagined life. Saturday was a long day of working through the conflagration I'd made, sorting through the ash and rubble, and finding our way back home again. By Sunday morning, somehow, He seemed to have come to some sort of decision point.


Whatever foolishness I'd flung at Him on Saturday, He'd chosen the path of "Master." Come the light of morning on Sunday, He began to reclaim the ground that has been slowly ceded to my moods and rages and fears in the last months. He moved to break through the barriers that I've been so busily erecting -- to take possession of my mind and my heart and my body, so that as we played together in the early hours of the beginning of the week, I felt myself coming back to the place I'd fled from in panic over the last few months -- relaxing into His control.


I think, believe, that our path will be different from here. He has declared that there will be more of His control over my life in the coming days, weeks, months -- that He knows what is and needs to be for Him and me and us, and that is the way it will be, and I believe Him.

That may sound trite, pedestrian, simplistic. It is perhaps all of that. It feels entirely right. He has already begun to define the lines and outlines of how things will be for us as we move forward. Things will be different. There are things that I have pulled to me, declaring that I would "do this" or "not do that." He has obliterated that control grab. I WILL do what He decides I will do.


We will, together, imagine our lives anew. We will begin to live the life we can imagine together. If He were different; if I were different, that might all seem grim and dark and dismal, but we are the people we are -- for the first time in a very long time, things seem hopeful and good.


swan