Immovable

The latest "Spanko Brunch" topic at My Bottom Smarts centered around what makes a "perfect" spanker. Lots and lots and lots of conversation about strength and sensitivity and goodness and consistency. I read and found myself shaking my head; noting a sense of unease and internal disagreement. I'm entirely sure that every single commenter at Bonnie's place is sincere, and that what they write about what makes a perfect spanker it absolutely the truth of it all for each and every one of them -- and it doesn't get close to the heart of the matter for me.

Now, probably the real fact of the matter is that He is NOT a "spanker." He is utterly Dominant, and He is a sadist whose primary sexual/erotic orientation and expression falls almost entirely into the realm of activities that could be grouped under the heading of "spanking" (although I'd probably argue that "impact play" is a more accurate description).

There is no question that He is a "good" person. There are very few men who work as hard, or bring as much personal committment or sense of mission to doing "good" in the world than the Man that T and I serve. The purity that fires His efforts on behalf of those He works for in our society is absolutely unwavering, and has driven a career that has spanned over three decades. It is a value driven life that has seen choices made in favor of service over riches and "power." He absolutely embodies the qualities of goodness, honor, and integrity.

He is unbelievably, stunningly, awesomely bright, perceptive, kind, and sensitive. He can be completely charming. Those who know Him socially, and professionally, often find that those traits are lavished on them. His Dominance wears a politically polished face in public. He cleans up really nice.

With us, at home, where He is in His element, things are His way. Always. That can mean many things. The world inside our walls, behind our doors, reflects His mood, suits His whim, IS exactly as He makes it to be. If the mood strikes Him, He can be completely generous, loving, tender, and sentimental. Or... He can be totally self-absorbed, arrogant, nasty, judgemental, inconsiderate, and even mean-spirited.

There are times when He does something that is so gosh darned sweet that it just drops me to my knees with amazement at His tender-heartedness. Those are the times when I am reminded that I am the luckiest of women. Those are the times when I am confirmed in the choice that I made back so many years ago. Those are the times when it all fits and feels right.

Then there are the times when I am ready to declare that He is an absolute, complete, unmitigated bastard. In those instances, I wonder what on earth I was thinking to have ever contemplated putting myself into this situation. I run the whole set of "non-option" options. I notice, mull over, brood upon, savor, pick at the scabs of -- the unfairness of it all. Oh yeah... I'm pathetic and pitiful.

Through that all, He remains exactly what and who He is -- who He has been from the very beginning. Older, yes -- but not one jot removed from the Man I first came to know eight years ago.

Which is the thing that is perhaps the one trait that none of Bonnie's commenters mentioned, but which, for us (for me) is essential: He's immovable.

I put my life in His hands, and no matter what happens; no matter what I toss at Him; no matter how emotionally bumpy my moods get; no matter how wimpy I feel; no matter how easy I am with the direction He drives us -- He remains. The foundation of our life is solid. Sure. Secure. I can BE insecure because I know that He IS secure.

That immovable certainty that forms the ramrod core of His being makes Him the perfect partner for me. It isn't always easy. There are times when I have to find a place to vent the fury the boils up in me when my stormy nature bangs into His determined solidity. There are probably plenty of people who would look at the tussling that I sometimes go through and see "trouble." I suppose, I might be some trouble for some. He seems to manage me just fine. Immovable.

He sets the course. He will have what He will have. He will go where He will go. He wants, and hopes for the happiness of all of us. He recognizes and supports whatever needs and feelings come up in the course of whatever comes up with all of that. Still, we go His way. Not the other way around. His goodness, strength, perceptivity, integrity, sensitivity are all traits that come into play in the relationship, certainly, but He is not in service to me. He knows this. So do I, and if I ever become confused about it; He simply slips a finger under the collar I wear and reminds me.

swan

I Need

It was a long week.
Anytime that there has been correction and discipline between us, the days that follow are laden with the emotions that resonate from that intense kind of interaction. Disciplinary encounters carry great weight, and while they tend to draw me to Him emotionally, they also leave me feeling personally fragile and small. Until there is some more gentle coming together in the aftermath, I have a very hard time shaking off the grim cobwebs left from a corrective session.

And so it has been this week, as I have gone about the process of re-evaluating my own issues and my own fussing, I have yearned for the time when we would reconnect on the physical level, and move past the lingering edge of that last miserable spanking from last weekend. It has hung around in the background of all my awareness, throughout the week, and as I've slowly gotten my feet back under me, still the sorrow has remained. Late in the dark nights, as I've come awake, I've found myself lying there, staring into the blackness, replaying the awfulness of His anger with me, and grieving. So, I have not been sleeping well.

Yesterday, our usual morning play time was interrupted by a delivery of firewood. Then, last night, knowing that today's morning time would be severely curtailed because we all had to be off to different obligations, I was lying awake in the middle of the night; unable to sleep; unable to find a place of comfort or calm. I tossed and turned and struggled with the blankets, the sheets, the pillows. Minutes and hours passed in misery as sleep eluded me.

Eventually, He woke up enough to ask me if I was OK. I took a deep breath, and told Him that I needed a spanking -- told Him I needed something to stand in the place of the terrible spanking from last weekend...

And then I curled into His arms and went sound asleep.

Just at dawn, we awoke together, and He granted that middle of the night request: a wonderful, slow-building, thorough session with the paddle and the cane and the strap. No battle this time -- just a bonding and a cleansing.

A good start to a long day.

swan

565

There have been 394 posts here at The Heron Clan, and before that, 171 written at The Swan's Heart -- a total of 565 posts. With very few exceptions, those posts have been sincere and honest glimpses into my life, and our lives together. There is very, very little in all of that writing that would be considered to be silliness or "fluff" by any description. Thousands and thousands and thousands of words that have drawn the pictures of our days and laid out the dramas and dilemmas and simple moments that weave a life and a love that is different than what many understand as "normal."



I sometimes go back through the bits and pieces scattered across all those many posts, and I find myself a bit bemused by the voice that I find there. Sometimes the words flow, and I am pretty amazed at the elegance. Often they just pour out all over the place, and I am frankly stunned at how very raw they seem. All of them, however, are honestly mine -- written from the depths of my heart, without any pretense. I do not hide here. What you see on these pages is the truth as clearly as I can figure it out from wherever I am standing when the words flow from the ends of my fingers.



Silly. Scared. Angry. Joyful. Grieving. Crazy. Confident. Secure. Depressed. Jealous. Confused. Hopeful... All of those emotions and feelings spilled all over the place here, without much gloss and with very little effort to disguise who I am or what I am about. If I struggle, you will read it here, and if I soar, that too will show up right here.



It isn't always easy to follow the path that I and WE have chosen. This kind of loving can be a challenge. It isn't easy to love ONE person steadfastly and well. We do it as a triad, with the potential at EVERY moment for there to be additions to that mix. I'd doubt that there is one person in a thousand that has the kind of personal courage, strength, or integrity that it takes to build the kind of loving family that we have. I've never, ever once claimed that it was a path that is easy for me. I have never proclaimed that I am "naturally" inclined to poly. I've been clear that it was a construct that WE (and I) came to because it worked for us, given the place that we all found ourselves when our Love became a very clear reality. I have, on more than one occasion, been clear that I have roots in very traditional belief systems that still pull at me despite my intellectual understandings of the validity of what we pursue in our poly life. I am fully capable of running all sorts of BAD guilt raps on myself, by myself. Right here, out here, in the open for everyone to see.



So, there is really nothing in the kind of vitriolic nastiness that our dogged "anonymous" commenter likes to heap on me that I haven't already delved into on my own. There is surely not a single ORIGINAL thought in this drivel:

swan, it seems to me that you only tolerate poly because someone else was in the relationship when you muscled in. You entered an existing relationship and dear T accomodated you so isn't it time to "play it forward" and make space as has been made for you.

The only thing that "anonymous" manages that I don't is that he or she stays hidden. It is easy, I imagine, to spew venom when no one knows who you are; when you have no exposure. Of course, too, it reduces your words to just so much meaningless babble.



Sorry, anonymous, whatever your issue is, you don't have any hold on me. You have no sway. You don't show yourself, as yourself, so you cannot lay claim to stand in my world. Keep on leaving your angry stuff lying around here in the comments section. No one will stop you. Neither will we pay you the least mind...



swan

My Story

I was born a poor black child..... (insert phonographic needle scratching vinyl here) ..... oops, that's someone else's tale. I digress....

Tom and Swan will tell you that I am the "baby" of the clan. Yet, some days I feel I am ancient. I have been on the planet for nearly 51 years. I was born in southern CA, the product of a "good girl" and a "naughty navy man". We relocated to SW Ohio when I was young and I had a pretty uneventful childhood, teen-time, and young adulthood.

During college I started working in restaurants. I worked my way up to management and became a "headhunter" of sorts. My company would send me into non-performing units, I would scope out their potential, I would report back and they would relocate me to that spot to get the job done. I was never in any one spot more than 9 months. I would evaluate, fire, hire, train, bring the unit back to the black and headquarters would send me to the next trouble spot. I had very little personal life, as I was working between 60-80 hours a week. And as soon as I would start making friends, it was time to leave. But I had books, and a vivid imagination and wondered if there were other "freaks" like me out there. I found a few, but having little personal time, and the fear of discovery kept me in my books.

Then computers became more readily accessible. Oo La La! I got my first All-in-One PC back when 14,400 was LIGHTNING SPEED! And I found Prodigy. And I found PERVS! And I found that I was not the only freak on the street. I spent HOURS online. I spent untold hundreds of dollars on dial-up, pay-by-the-minute chat with like-minded persons. And then, after about a year of just talking to these people that I had never laid eyes on (remember we didn't have any cameras on our PCs yet during the dark ages), we all decided to....... MEET! I about puked. I was going to die. I just KNEW these people were all going to be JUST LIKE the pictures of the BDSM people in the magazines. And I was not. The men were all going to be tall, dark, handsome, commanding, and drool-able. And the women were going to be ...... Perfect Submissives. You know the ones....the "Perfect" ones. We have all heard about them. (Yes, please insert dramatic eye roll here!) So I went.... and they were all just like..... ME! Some were tall, some were short, some were thin, and most were fat. A few were georgous. A few were not. Most were average. Most did not have these magical toy bags full of wonderfully glorious toys than cost an arm and leg. Many had home-made goodies. Golly, I fit right in. And it was wonderful!

I was publicly out in the scene about 7 years before I met Tom. I had never been collared. I had never been married. I pretty much had give that all up. I knew I was a good person. A good family member and a good friend, when needed. And then Whims told me about this guy who was moving close to me. He was seperated, changing jobs, lonely, and needed a friend. She thought I would be perfect. Whims, being the Uber-Domme, "strongly" suggested I email Tom.... I forgot. A week later, she asked if I had (of course, I hadn't) and she "forcefully" requested I email Tom..... I forgot. A few days later she tracked me down and told me "Get out of the chat room and WRITE TOM, DAMMIT!"... I wrote Tom. We met halfway for dinner and spent over 4 hours talking. We closed down the restaurant, and the rest is history.

I almost died before we could get married. I developed a fever and tummy problems that would not go away. They put me in the hospital and called it diverticulitus. No food, no water. Antibiotics and settle the intestines. A week later they started food again and I went home. With the fever and tummy problems returning. I was to have a colonoscopy and Tom was at an evening meeting the night I was doing the "prep" (gag). I got sick about 2/3 of the way thru' the jug-o-crap and crawled into bed. Tom came home, called the Dr. and was told to not worry, just bring me in the next morning for the procedure. The alarm went off, I got out of bed and fell to the floor in pain. Tom dressed me and practically carried me to the car. My intestines had ruptured, I had peritonitis, and a temperature of 106. They scheduled me for surgery, pumped me full of morphine, and from that point to approx. 10 days later, my memories are what Tom has given me. Apparently I had MRSA and was given very little change of making it. They removed 8 inches of my colon. I had a temporary colostomy. I was in intensive care for 6 days. I was in a private room for another 8 days. Tom slept in a chair alot. And the few hours he was home, he was online, and he met Swan.

When I came home, Tom was busy with home IV's 2 times a day and sterile dressing changes for the open wound I was sent home with. I slept alot. I didn't work for almost 6 months. But I got better and I learned that Tom had made some amazing new friends while I was sick, who supported him when I could not. "He-who-shall-remain-nameless" and Swan.

Friends. Cool. I like Friends. And within our lifestyle we had many friends. Tom likes to spank and I could not handle the intensity he preferred, so we had "Stunt-Butts". There were a few women that just wanted to be spanked. No relationship. They were no threat to our life together, they just wanted a good beatin' occasionally. Worked for everyone. And after I was sick, I was just not able to handle any sort of spanking, so having the "Stunts" made perfect sense to me.

As I said before, I slept ALOT. And when I was sleeping, Tom was either on the PC or phone with Swan. And they were growing closer. I was still thinking "friends", but, looking back, I am sure they were not. And when it was finally brought to my attention that it was more than "friends"..... I was stunned. I was scared. I was crushed. I figured, because I had changed (by no fault of my own), he didn't want me anymore and was looking for someone else. Tom reasured me that this was not the case, but it was hard to get my head around. Tom still loved me to pieces, but he loved Swan, too. And what if the 4 of us became a family? WHATTHEFUCK????
Yeah, I was not the "happy-go-lucky" T you see before you. I was a pain in the ass! I dragged my heels. I dragged EVERYONES heels. Poly "rules" say only go as fast as the slowest member of the group? I was damned slow. But I was honest. He-who-shall-remain-nameless was not. And that made for a sucky year.

I know that Swan is often beseiged with concern that she has taken Tom from me. She can only take what I am willing to give. I think that our lives work. There are times that we get our fur up and I don't necessarily think that is a bad thing. Walking on egg shells over things will just make it more difficult to put issues to rest.

I think that there has been alot here about Swan's concerns about Tom talking to others. I think she is scared that he will find someone else and not have enough room for her. I have to say, that I honestly feel nothing could be further from the truth. Tom likes to talk. We ALL know this. He likes to share his expertise. And he LOVES to spank. We used to have 2-3 regular "Stunt-butts" and an occasional "Drop-in-Stunt". But he only spanks Swan now. Swan's ass couldn't take all the beatin' Tom would like to dish out. Let's face it, Sweetie, as we grow "more mature" our skin thins, and the tissue on your butt won't take it!

Swan and I are here to stay. WE are Sisters. WE are his wives. It takes a village to raise a Dominant and WE are Tom's "Village". He might "look". He might "talk". He might "spank". BUT he ALWAYS comes home to us. And he ALWAYS sleeps with Swan tucked under his chest, close to his heart....just as it should be.....

T

List

I've gotten off the path. I am lost. I need to get back to where I belong, and I need to find a calm center. No one can help me but myself. So there'll probably not be much to see here. I will be inside for the next bit, paying attention to the work that I need to be doing.

To do list:
1) be grateful
2) be optimistic
3) do what I do with attention and enthusiasm
4) be open and curious
5) love and be loved

swan

You are My Slave

We've talked (He and I), more than once, about the dilemmas presented when there is "love" included in the BDSM equation.

As "things" have evolved between us in the last couple of years, and the intensity of our "play" has shifted, He has spoken of the conversation that He engages in within His own mind about wanting to fulfill His sadistic desires while, simultaneously, being reluctant to hurt me... He is genuinely torn. I suspect that He is not the first Dominant to find walking that path confusing at best.

As for me, the reality of my slavery is generally pretty lightly held in our world. There are no set protocols. Life is pretty fluid. It has been fairly easy for me to slip into believing that because He loves me as my Master, that is the same thing as being "in love" with me in a romantic sense.

The truth is that our relationship lives on two levels, but the core of who we are is always going to be rooted in the fact that He is "Master," and I am "slave." It is important that I not forget that reality, if this realtionship is going to proceed smoothly and calmly along the path that is best for the two of us.

Forgetting put us at odds with each other this last weekend. It was not a happy time in the House of Heron.

Most of the regular readers here know that I struggle with the "poly-ness" which is Master's natural bent. His desire and preference is to have multitudes of play partners, and He actively seeks those people out. There is no shortage of "fodder" in that arena. In the "vanilla" poly world (is there such a thing?), there are all sorts of rules and understandings and pretty little platitudes. People talk about honesty and keeping partners "on the same page" and all kinds of sort of "equal opportunity" stuff. But that's vanilla poly.

We aren't vanilla poly.

He trolls, and He links up, and He makes His arrangements how and as He will, and He doesn't feel any particular need or requirement to share any of that with me. Why should He? I am the slave. That's His view. Makes absolute sense to Him.

They show up in the stat counts, because He sends them here. I can see them. And He gets all excited and "weird" sounding with me. So I "know" about them. Except I don't. And if I ask, He tells me "not happening." And I get crazy, because I can't tell what is real and what isn't.

Pisses me off.

Except that He has made it clear: "You are my slave. I am the Master. I will communicate with whomever I please -- spank whomever I please. Whenever, however, wherever I choose. You will behave, in that context, exactly as I tell you to behave. You will not practice emotional blackmail. You are mine." Backed up words and commands with the kind of impact that He believes drives His message home.

So.

I will be backing up. Backing off. Learning this anew or again or whatever. It isn't about what I want or what I like or how I feel. It is about Him. Message received.

Slave. Leave the emotional "stuff" at the door. Obey and serve. There will always be a place within Master's love for that slave. Without that, He will only be bewildered at what it is that I think I am doing here...

swan

Happy Anniversary! ... NOT

I was out reading my favorite political blog "Daily Kos" and came across an article that sent me to "Think Progressive" and THIS

Anti-choice group mails plastic fetuses.
A “right to life” group in Wisconsin is “under fire” for mailing an “informational letter, a fundraising envelope and a small plastic fetus ” to 44,000 people. According to Wisconsin Right to Life, “the plastic figure represents an 11- or 12-week fetus” and is meant “to mark the 35-year anniversary of Roe Vs. Wade.”

Well, All I can say is "THANK YOU!" What a wonderful anniversary present for the masses. How thrilled I would have been, as a parent , if that little tinkle of joy tumbled out in front of my child as I was opening my mail!

I am aware there are people out there who think THEY have the right to tell me what I should do with my girlie parts and what and who should be housed within, but DAMMIT.... The very few hairs that live on the back of my neck are at "ATTENTION"! I have never been able to have kids of my own, but still support a woman's right to chose her own path. Just because I do not think abortion would have been my choice, that doesn't mean I would deny anyone that option.

But to casually drop a pink plastic fetus in an envelope as a "gift" to prompt you to support their cause, makes me want to gas up the car and head to Washington!

Roe vs. Wade is done. It is old legislation that almost every legally responsible mind in the country has said will be left alone by the Supremes. Why can't they just take their plastic fetuses and go play in their own sandboxes?

T

Talking to Me!

It happened last weekend.

I'm not sure of the context now. Before or after the spanking that usually serves as "foreplay" between He and I. Probably after. Most likely after.

I was caught by surprise, actually. There isn't usually anytime for me to "get ready" for sex. We usually go directly from spanking to fucking -- ready or not. Spanking gets Him hard, so... The reality of the journey that I've made in the last two years is that I've simply stopped expecting much from sex. If I "get to" an orgasm, then no one is more surprise than I am, but the constant chasing after it wasn't accomplishing anything other than making me feel increasingly frustrated and inadequate. So, my approach is that, when He's ready, we go for it. Getting me ready, if we were to actually try to do that, is a long, dragged-out, "no guarantees" process, and the level of patience that is required is beyond what is reasonable to expect from anyone.

When I masturbate (and I do -- because they didn't manage to remove my libido), using my vibrator, it is almost always in the darkest hours of the middle of the night, long after He has dropped off into sleep, and I can be assured of extended stretches of uninterrupted time (assuming I can stay awake). It is then that I am able to slowly conjure the stories in my own head that will help me reach the place of physical release. Very rarely are my few remaining "girly" bits going to respond to pure physical stimuli if my head isn't along for the ride.

But...

Last weekend, for whatever reason, He decided to try and "do something that would be good" for me. That is always a little "iffy" in the beginning.

The whole idea puts me into a dither almost immediately. It sets me up with instant performance anxiety -- I know how hard it is to "start my motor," and so I know going in what sort of investment in time and energy the whole business takes. I worry, right from the start, that I'm going to take too long, and just frustrate Him before we ever get anyplace.

AND, He always wants me to tell Him what to do while He's poking around with my girly bits -- draw Him a roadmap to the secret launch button or something. "What's going to be good for you?" He'll ask me. I don't know. That's the honest truth. If I were doing it myself, I'd have to follow the sensations very, very carefully and quietly, holding my breath the whole time, hoping I didn't somehow lose the trail, trying not to try too hard, and knowing that at any moment, it could all just vanish and be gone like a dream. It takes an odd sort of sideways concentration that doesn't really look too closely at the target, but can't afford to get distracted either. It isn't the sort of thing that is enhanced by attempting to provide directions in the midst of the whole affair.

He gets frustrated with me, and I end up feeling like a complete freak.

But this followed a different path. Somehow, I managed to find my focus on the sensations His fingers were creating, and was able to still my rising panic enough to just go with what He was choosing to do. And, for whatever reason, instead of asking me what He should do, He began to talk about what He wanted to do with me and to me. He spoke low about wanting to take me over His knee and blister me, while I squirmed and cried and begged. He talked of sending me to the corner with the rubber punishment strap to contemplate how much it would hurt landing over and over on my already bruised and burning bottom, until I was ready to come to Him and ask for the strapping that He would give me. He mused about how rainy our weather has been, and wondered if the spring wouldn't bring a particularly plentiful crop of switches; saying that it would be good to keep me switched on a regular basis.

At first, I wanted to contradict the images He was creating. After all, I had not done anything to warrant such harsh beatings... I'd been "good..." But somehow, the words caught me, and I didn't fuss at Him. I simply let myself fall into the stories He was telling me -- stories like I might have told myself in the dark, lonely, silence of the night. I relaxed into His embrace, followed His words and His voice, let His strong hands work their magic, and began to rise to the heat that He was creating.

This time, when we came together to make love, I was more than ready to follow the trail on which He had set me travelling.



There is power in words for me. The stories, the ideas, the images that the words can create can help to bring the rest of my being along on the journey. I weave words into stories in my own questing mind, and, when He ever so rarely, gives me the gift of words, He can carry me along to just about anywhere.


swan

Ashley Madison

I heard about it on the radio a few weeks ago... Then He and I were going somewhere in the car together when the ad came on...

"Have you heard this?" I asked Him.

"For those who are married but looking for something more...," the ad copy goes.

Poly? He wondered. Or cheating, I suggested. No real way to tell from the radio advertisement.

A little cursory research shows that the Ashley Madison Agency has been around since 2002. Nothing particularly special to set them apart from a host of other online linkup sites, except for the "pitch" that they make: When Monogamy becomes Monotony. The truth is that Ashley Madison is for those who are out to step out. There isn't anything about the whole thing that implies that kind of "radical honesty" that underpins legitimate poly relationships. It is cheating with chutzpah.

swan

Bloom's Taxonomy for Lifestylers

There are many lessons that I've learned in the years that I've spent teaching. Through most of my career in the classroom, I've worked with young adolescents -- those who are most often called "middle school students" or sometimes "junior high students." It is the passage in a child's educational journey when they must make the leap from concrete to abstract thinking, and for the teacher, it is the time when the sheer volume of material that needs to be conveyed to students becomes almost staggering.

I have found that it is seldom useful, although it is sometimes tempting, to ask students to spend much time defining things. They almost never benefit from looking up lists of vocabulary words and providing "definitions." Surprising as it may seem, the mere act of defining words really does not take them very far toward understanding or comprehension. Almost never, does a student who has spent time looking up a word in the dictionary, become able to effectively use that word in everyday conversation, or to construct meaning in other contexts. If we want kids to "get" the language that we throw at them in the classroom, we have to take them far deeper and wider than just the definitions.

In the world of education, we sometimes talk about the various levels of Bloom's taxonomy. Bloom's taxonomy deals with learning as a leveled scheme of skill attainment, moving from simplest to more and more sophisticated. There are variants of the taxonomic scale, but it is generally described as follows:

1) Knowledge of terminology; specific facts; ways and means of dealing with specifics (defines; describes; enumerates; identifies; labels; lists; matches; names; reads; records; reproduces; selects; states; views).
2) Comprehension: Grasping (understanding) the meaning of informational materials (classifies; cites; converts; describes; discusses; estimates; explains; generalizes; gives examples; makes sense out of; paraphrases; restates (in own words); summarizes; traces; understands).
3) Application: The use of previously learned information in new and concrete situations to solve problems that have single or best answers (acts; administers; articulates; assesses; charts; collects; computes; constructs; contributes; controls; determines; develops; discovers; establishes; extends; implements; includes; informs; instructs; operationalizes; participates; predicts; prepares; preserves; produces; projects; provides; relates; reports; shows; solves; teaches; transfers; uses; utilizes).
4) Analysis: The breaking down of informational materials into their component parts, examining (and trying to understand the organizational structure of) such information to develop divergent conclusions by identifying motives or causes, making inferences, and/or finding evidence to support generalizations (breaks down; correlates; diagrams; differentiates; discriminates; distinguishes; focuses; illustrates; infers; limits; outlines; points out; prioritizes; recognizes; separates; subdivides).
5) Synthesis: Creatively or divergently applying prior knowledge and skills to produce a new or original whole (adapts; anticipates; categorizes; collaborates; combines; communicates; compares; compiles; composes; contrasts; creates; designs; devises; expresses; facilitates; formulates; generates; incorporates; individualizes; initiates; integrates; intervenes; models; modifies; negotiates; plans; progresses; rearranges; reconstructs; reinforces; reorganizes; revises; structures; substitutes; validates).
6) Evaluation: Judging the value of material based on personal values/opinions, resulting in an end product, with a given purpose, without real right or wrong answers.

I am feeling as if the recent conversation that I've had with Sara about differences between her DD relationship and our M/s dynamic has come down to exactly this... Espcecially in her latest summative discussion on the subject, she comes back to the place where I think we started. She writes that, for her:

I suppose the purpose of my question was, of course, in the end to help me flesh out what is the same and what is different in how we each define ourselves.

It isn't about that for me. The definition isn't really a question. It isn't complicated. All that it really takes is a coming to terms, an aquiescence to the truth: I am a masochist and a submissive. Having accepted that as the reality, the definitions are simple to find (The essential feature of sexual masochism is the feeling of sexual arousal or excitement resulting from receiving pain, suffering, or humiliation. The pain, suffering, or humiliation is real and not imagined and can be physical or psychological in nature).

What is more challenging, what takes learning and study and effort, is to understand -- to begin to comprehend and integrate that reality into some sort of sense of self that can be carried in the world with some kind of balance and personal grace. So, the conversations and cogitations in which I engage aren't about defining; they are about developing and extending my own awareness and understanding so that I can DO something with that; so that I can grow past the point of simply knowing what the words mean into a manifestation of the truths of all of that in my life.

I have appreciated the dialog with Sara for its openess. Far too often, when I encounter people that are first approaching questions about "slavery," the discussion is tainted with judgement and disdain which is seldom disguised. I've found none of that in talking about my life with Sara. That has been very good. Our conversation has allowed me to explain and describe and go back to the beginnings without any sense of needing to defend. That has been good for me. I hope, in some small way, that it has also been good for her.

swan

Polyamory Observations #9

This December 26 column by Mistress Matisse discusses the business of "rules" in polyamorous relationships. It is, possibly, one of the best and simplest commentaries on the subject that I've ever seen.

I think it is a very common evolution that people who are new to polyamory create great lists of rules and agreeements and expectations. It is a way to help alleviate some of the uncertainty and anxiety that is a fairly common part of the beginning of poly for many people.

Very early on, we had all kinds of schedules and calendars and methods for equalizing things and keeping score and whatnot. As we moved along, those things came to feel cumbersome and artificial and we eventually let most of the "accepted" patterns of poly practice go. They just didn't work for us. Over time, we came to develop habits and routines that made sense for us as family and partners and lovers. We started to recognize what fit our personalities, our styles, our legitimate and actual needs, and designed our lives to match those things -- rather than investing a lot of energy into what Mistress Matisse, so aptly calls "symbols."

We get a lot of sort of nervous and anxious questions and poking about from non-poly readers and commenters, who are made quite uncomfortable by the seeming "uneveness" of some of what they read about in our lives. It is easy to endow the symbols of equal minutes, or calendar dates, or place with far more weight than the less easily grasped relational currencies of respect and affection and intimacy and kindness and generosity and loyalty. Those deeper ties between us are so difficult for people to sense that it is the norm for them to want to evaluate the strength of our bond based on the more superficial "dating" stuff of relating protocols.

I believe that there is a real lack of understanding of how real poly loving works when the partners get beyond the place of being mostly fearful. If the relationships really work and the partners come to actually care for one another and mesh as a group or a unit, there is very little reason to fall onto flimsy and artificial symbols.

swan

If She Only Knew...

I live an awful lot of my life in "disguise." I travel out in the world looking like your garden-variety, fifty-something, school-teacher (unattached older lady). I'm darned good at what I do. I handle my kids without breaking a sweat most days, and I deal with their parents with the sure touch that only comes with years and years and years of experience.

Every class, every year has its share of kids with stories. Their lives and their personalities and their needs wrap themselves around my head and my heart until I come to live and breathe the work and art of making their learning experience one that will change their lives.

This year, one of those kids is G. Physically, he is an awesomely beautiful youngster. He has an amazingly nimble mind, especially when the subject is related to mathematics. He also has a pretty significant level of Attention Deficit Disorder, and without the prescribed medication that helps him focus, he has trouble initiating the most elemental tasks, or sustaining almost any activity long enough to complete it. We've put all sorts of interventions into place to try and support him and help him succeed, but we've not had much success. He's in some pretty significant academic jeopardy at this point, and so we convened a conference with the principal, the school psychologist, and his mother.

His mother, M, is divorced but planning to remarry soon. She's got a famous last name that everyone recognizes. She has an "important" job, and a thousand excuses why she can't seem to follow through with the kinds of supervision and support that would probably go a long way toward making G a more successful student. Those who've been around the school longer than I have tell me that she wasn't much use with either of G's older siblings either...

And so it happened that the very first afternoon back from the Christmas holiday found us all gathered, discussing G's grades, behavior, and performance. After going round and round with "mom," the principal finally brought young G in and gave him the talk: "if you fail this class and this class again, you are going to repeat 6th grade..." Who knows whether any of it made any impression. Without his medication on some regular basis, his odds of success are minimal -- and his mother seems unwilling to assure that he will get it.

At any rate, as we wound down after nearly an hour, I mentioned that G needed two 2-liter bottles, and a dollar for a science project that we were starting in class. Mom was obviously surprised at this news even though the assignment had been made before the holiday break and posted on my website. Thinking quickly, she reached into her purse and handed me a five dollar bill. I rose to get her change, but she said, " Just take it and get the bottles he needs. Keep the change."

I was too stunned to say anything which is probably good. There are times when it is probably a blessing that there is no speaker that would broadcast the thoughts that run through my mind straight out into the room. I was furious. I ended up taking the money and buying the kid the bottles he needed.

At lunch on Friday, in the teacher's lounge, we were chatting about the whole exchange. The school psychiatrist was there and mentioned how well I'd handled "M." One of the young teachers (she's probably 23 or 24) was interested to hear the story. She was amazed that I didn't put up more of a fuss about the offhand way M handed the money to me and expected me to just run her errands for her. I said, "The calculation in my mind went very quickly like this: if I bitch-slap this woman, will it get G the materials he needs for class, get him a more effective parent, suddenly enlighten M as to how inappropriate and rude her behavior is, improve the standing of the school in the parent community, or make me feel better? I figured I probably feel better for a few seconds, but none of the other four was likely to happen, so what was the benefit?"

The young teacher's eyes got as wide as saucers and she exclaimed, "You said bitch-slap! I can't believe you just said bitch-slap! Write it down, everyone; on January 4th, Sue said bitch-slap!" She was just hysterical over it. Meanwhile the school psychologist was practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

I just looked at her. It was an educational moment for her I'm sure. Clearly, she never imagined that her garden-variety, fifty-something, usually quiet, school-teacher colleague even knew the expression "bitch-slapped," let alone ever said such things -- not everything that comes into your mind has to come out of your mouth. Or should. Part of being professional.

Part of being slave. The discipline of knowing when to speak and when to remain silent.

What an interesting confluence of my public and private lives. Plenty of things about my life would surprise my young colleague if she only knew.

swan

About the Impact of Pictures

The comment that Hermione left just a day or so ago on the "As Promised" post struck a chord with me that has had me following several different thought paths, so let me see if I can make any sense of my thinking and put some sort of coherent response together here.

She wrote: Interesting that you posted those pictures, just when we have been having a lively discussion about words vs pictures on My Bottom Smarts.You are very brave!

Well, I am not the one who usually reads at "My Bottom Smarts." That's why it is listed under "Master's Links." So, I went and looked. It seems that there are a fair number of commenters there who are of the opinion that "pictures on blogs" are there "gratuitously." Fair enough. Everybody has their thing, and I can fully appreciate that looking at my naked ass is not everybody's cup of tea. Hey! I am a grown up with a well developed ego structure, and I "get" that my bare butt is not exactly on the national scenic tour. So... If my butt occasionally appears here for some of the world to see, what, if anything, does that mean?

Reasonable enough question to ask.

To begin with, I think it is important to understand that people write in this format for different reasons, and with significantly different goals and agendas. This has never been a blog that has had as its primary agenda to "drive traffic." I (and we) write my/our lives here. We don't tell fictional stories and we don't do "memes," and we sometimes leave the pages silent for long periods of time. It is all reflective of the real lives of real people. There is no fluff and there is no gloss. Those who have been reading for any time at all, know that it is possible to read for very long periods of time and hear very little about spanking, S/M, or alternative sexuality in any significant degree. In actual fact, if you are a longtime follower of The Heron Clan and/or The Swan's Heart, you probably know much more about menopause, hysterectomy, alzheimers, teaching, diabetes, knee replacement, polyamory, dealing with adult children, and our political and religious views than you do about our BDSM practices. Some part of our lives has to do with sadomasochism and M/s, and so I do get spanked. Once in a great while, as part of that, He will, on a whim, take some photos, and when He does, I will usually post them. I think that happens relatively rarely. People see my butt and my face at just about the same frequency. The photos are hardly gratuitous, in my view. They are part of the story that I and we tell here of what is happening in our lives.

Secondly, I think that pictures can tell stories, even as words can. I would defy anyone to say that I haven't told my story here with plenty of words -- over and over and over. I am sure that there are some who would be happy to say that I have spilled MORE than enough words over the years -- "PLEASE, SOMEBODY, SHUT THAT WOMAN UP!" So, for those who prefer words to pictures, there are plenty of words here I would think. But, now and then, an image can speak, if we have the vision to see what there is to be seen. I suspect that some see butt pictures and that is all they see. We are not accustomed in our society to confronting nudity, and so the human body displayed without clothing is shocking for some. That shock prevents us from being able to see beyond the obvious -- it is a naked ass!

For me the pictures that Hermione sees as perhaps controversial or daring or (at a minimum, brave) tell stories. Everyone seems to see them differently. Each time I look at them, I hear voices in my mind. I hear His disappointed response when He first saw them posted here: "Your ass is hardly red; only just pink -- I should have spanked you a lot harder and a lot longer!" I hear the questioning of a correspondent who asked, "Isn't it difficult for you to be that exposed and that vulnerable?" I look at them myself, and I see the aftermath of the battle; the total and complete physical surrender in every muscle. I see the faintness of the lines of the cutting and I feel pangs of distress at how faded that marking has become over the years.

Finally, I keep coming back to that "you are very brave" accolade. What is it that seems brave about having others see you naked? How is it that we imbue clothing with such symbolic power that the mere act of being revealed without it is an act of courage? I sleep naked. I have enjoyed vacations in naturist resorts where clothing is optional, and total nudity is the norm. I have spent a fair amount of time in public play venues where I have been entirely naked among large numbers of people. There is, perhaps, a time for appropriate personal modesty. Surely, I've seen the human form displayed in ways and in settings that I found cheap and degrading. However, I think that it is not so much a matter of what we show as it is a matter of who we are and how we feel about what we are doing when we are revealed to others with or without our clothing.

swan

I Really Want to Talk with Senator Barak Obama

I've been reading the book, The Audacity of Hope, written by now presidential candidate, Barak Obama, in 2006. It has taken me a good long while to read my way through the entirety of it -- I don't have long stretches of time to read, casually. I read what I need for my classes, and other "leisure" reading must happen "in the cracks." I often catch a paragraph or two in the bathroom, if you really want to know. So the business of making my way through anything of substance is a matter of dedication and patience and chipping away, bit by bit.

I don't agree with everything that Senator Obama thinks. I do like the WAY he thinks. I also like the way He learns. He seems open and willing to engage with those who have experience beyond the scope of his own. That, to me, seems like a valuable asset in one who seeks to assume the mantle of leadership for our nation and in the world.

In most of the places where I found myself wishing that I could sit the senator down and have a conversation to discuss points of "disagreement," the divergence isn't wide, and the issues aren't ones that are so close to my life that I feel personally at risk by the views that he holds. And then, I got very close to the end of the book which is where I found this...

But all in all , I have little sympathy for those who would enlist the government in the task of enforcing sexual morality. Like most Americans, I consider decisions about sex, marriage, divorce, and childbearing to be highly personal -- at the very core of our system of personal liberty. Where such personal decisions raise the prospect of significant harm to others -- as is true with child abuse, incest, bigamy, domestic violence, or failure to pay child support -- society has a right and duty to step in. (Those who believe in the personhood of the fetus would put abortion in htis category.) Beyond that, I have no interest in seeing the president, Congress, or a government bureaucracy regulating what goes on in America's bedrooms.

That is probably a set of views that seems utterly and completely reasonable to Senator Obama. It probably rings with a tone of sensible acceptance to the vast majority of mainstream, sort of liberal people across this country. On the face of it, there is almost nothing in that statement that a reasonable person could find fault with, and so what the heck?

But, I'm not one of the vast majority of mainstream people. Whatever I might look like, as I go about my day to day life, I do not fit the norm. I practice BDSM and I live in a polyamorous triad family, and so I want to ask the senator who would be president just how he views that list and particularly my lifestyle in relationship to that list.

Here's why --

There are some people, probably a very large number of people, who would view an awful lot of what I and we engage in within our sexual and erotic expression as verging on "domestic violence." Regardless of what I believe I have consented to within the context of my relationship with Master. I'm often left bruised, bloody, and welted after a session. Many times, there are tears. Sometimes, it isn't even something that I am happy about in the actual moment. I can be noisy about my protests. should one of our neighbors hear something that concerned them, and make a "well-intentioned" phone call to the local authorities, all hell could break loose with serious consequences for all of us. That's the reality that we live with every single day. It isn't abuse, but it could look like that to a casual or uninformed observer, and the law isn't always, or even often, on our side. If you don't know, or if you haven't been "in the lifestyle," it is easy to mistake the one thing for the other. I can understand that, but I can't feel "easy" when I think (even peripherally) that those who seek to lead in this country might think that my lifestyle is THE SAME as "domestic violence." I want to know that those seeking my vote have enough respect for me and others like me to at least enter the dialog before just lumping us all together in the same pile.

The other part of the list that makes me nervous is the fact that it incluces "bigamy." I understand that "bigamy" is very specifically defined within the laws, and is specifically illegal in every state. I also realize that we do not practice bigamy. Polyamory and bigamy are not the same. I wonder, though, if they are connected in the thinking of Senator Obama? I wonder if they are connected, in just the same ways, in the thinking of most average people? I suspect that there is far less conceptual distance between polyamory and bigamy for most people than the "formal" definitions would suggest to those of us who KNOW what the words mean really. Does my neighbor know the difference? Does my mother understand the difference? What about my employer? If the senator doesn't "get it," how likely is it that all those other regular folks are going to be able to understand the distinctions. And, if those distinctions are not clearly understood, then those of us who are not "coupled" in the traditional way are going to be regularly subjected to all manner of discriminatory rules, laws, and regulations -- because what we do might constitute some sort of "threat" to the fabric of the society.

So, should I take that throwaway list, at the very end of the good senator's book literally? Should I trust that he really means "domestic violence" and "bigamy?" Or should I go with my gut instinct and believe that he probably also would lump those of us who practice BDSM with those who perpetrate domestic violence, and those of us who practice polyamory with those who practice bigamy -- and then see us as part of a group of people whose "personal decisions raise the prospect of significant harm to others?"

I would like to trust in what I think is the impetus toward careful consideration that I sense in the man. I would like to believe that he really is as bright and good and genuinely kind-hearted as I think he might be. I want desperately to believe that the promise of something new for our country (after so long in the dark and the hate that has been the norm for so many years) might include those of us in the alternative community as well.

Is there any hope for substantial change in the political climate for us? Any chance that the hijacking of our constitutional liberties by the religious right might be reversed with what is beginning in this year's presidential contest? I make no secret of my leanings. There isn't a single one of the characters in the Republican field that I'd waste my time talking to, but I wonder about the folks on the nominally "reasonable" side of the divide... I would sure as heck like to talk to Senator Obama. Actually, I'd love the chance to sit each and all of them down and have a good, long chat with the whole bunch. Because after all, we are reasonable people... aren't we?

Could it be that the morning after the elections in November of 2008 could be hopeful rather than depressing? Please, someone -- tell me that could happen.

swan

Slavery -- More Questions

Sara, in commenting on the post I wrote on slavery, asked the following question --

at the risk of being a complete irritant to you...I have another question. I could say much of the same as you have above, if you substituted 'wife' for 'slave'. How/why is the term 'slave' more appropriate than wife/lover, or sub, if it is in the context of a P.E. relationship? Is there something very different in the experience? I assume that he is not expected to take your wants into account, only his own, and yet that is not true, because he does, and you have chosen that sort of man. Just asking...?

To begin with, Sara, let me just say that questions posed like this are in no way irritating. I am happy to engage in this sort of dialog with anyone who, as you so clearly seem to, sincerely wants to understand the things that I write about. There is never any need to apologize for asking questions in this sort of tone -- honest curiosity is more than welcome here.


I also sincerely appreciate the thoughtfulness that has been part of the dialog that you have engaged in with me. I am most grateful for the pace of your conversation with me. There is a slow, pondering, steadiness to this conversation that I like. It takes out the kind of heated, knee-jerkiness that so often characterizes exchanges in cyberspace. It feels to me like there is enough time for me to really consider and contemplate what I want to say without needing to respond immediately. This little bit of discussion is happening at a speed that is comfortable for me, and I am glad for that.

I think there is way too much to this discussion for me to be able to respond reasonably to your question in the context of a comment, so I hope you won't mind if I turn my response to you into a full blown post...


I believe that what is central to your question, Sara, is this: is there really anything significantly different in what I do, and call "slavery," and what any devoted, loving, and dedicated, wife might do for a husband?

It is a fair question. After all, much of what I do is indistinguishable from what might go on in any reasonably well ordered housewife's routine. I cook, I clean, I manage the laundry, I pay the bills, I keep track of the prescriptions, I participate in the family "events," I rub His back, I darn His socks, ... There is certainly nothing that hints of leather or chains in any of that. It could go on in the house next door. It is perfectly mundane. In every discernible respect, what I do, day by day, looks exactly like what any "wife/lover" might do.


So, why the use of a term that is provacative as "slave" surely is? What is it about the experience or the reality that makes it valid or valuable to distinguish my status and dynamic from that of any other domestic living arrangement with a label that is so heavily laden?

For me, it feels appropriate to use the word "slave" precisely because it is descriptive of what cannot be seen. The parts of my life that seem mundane are deceptive. Like the still, quiet surface of very, very deep waters, there is much that is not evident in the day to day routines, and seeming ordinariness that is apparent to the casual observer. I am not His wife. Even if I were His wife, even if I were to be "allowed" to become His wife in this society, I would remain His slave, and that entails an entirely different set of expectations than the husband/wife relationship.


It is difficult to try and explain that to people who don't almost "intuitively" understand it. It would have been nearly impossible to explain it to me before I experienced it -- even as I read about it during the earliest days of my explorations into this lifestyle. It has almost nothing to do with the overheated "fantasy" stuff of much of the BDSM "literature" -- that lurid sort of writing that is so easy to tumble over online and in porn shops.

I never intended or "meant" to end up being anyone's slave. I started out creating a Domestic Discipline relationship with my husband of many years (very much as you and Grant did), and in the beginning, we experienced many of the same benefits and surprisingly positive changes that you write about in your blog. In fact, if I go back to the archives of 1Domestic Discipline and 1Household Discipline, I can find things that I wrote there in the beginnings of my DD "life" that echo your words almost exactly. Slavery, as I experience it, was something that came to be a part of the experience that was true of what Master and I shared as we "grew into" our relationship with one another. Part of what I think makes it "different" from being "wife" or "lover" is that I might be described by some of those terms too (in some contexts), but that does not change or impact upon the reality of the Master/slave dynamic that remains between He and I. We love one another intensely and completely, and I am ALSO His slave. In some very real sense, the two relationships exist on separate planes from one another.

Awhile back, I spent time contemplating the "obligations and responsibilities" that a Master might incur in assuming the ownership of human property. I ended up writing several of sort of convoluted posts on the subject that are referenced here , here, and also here. The conclusion, from my perspective, was that while He might choose to care for me in various ways; might choose to "maintain" my well-being as if I were of great value to Him; He does not have any de facto obligation to do that by virtue of His ownership.

Ownership, on His part, and the corollary slavery on my part, create a relationship dynamic that begins and ends with Him. Everything about the relationship is defined by His vision and His energy and His intention. For us and for me, that turns out to include a great deal of love and tenderness and concern and attentiveness, BUT none of that is owed to me as a requirement of the committment that we made to each other within the agreement as Master and slave, and none of it is obligatory on His part. He can expect my complete dedication and absolute obedience without any regard for my wishes, desires, or happiness.

You might wonder, Sara, how that works in practice. What does that mean in practical terms. Simply, it means that I am His to use and command without explanation or negotiation. For example, whereas your dynamic might include spankings that occur for some "reason" which make sense within the context that you have both carefully negotiated and agreed upon, I am often spanked BECAUSE He wants to spank me; for the simple reason that He enjoys and gets pleasure from hurting me. If, in the moment, I get some sort of masochistic pleasure out of that as well, that is fine, but it is not His concern. That is, probably, the most prosaic or maybe most common example, but if I thought about it, I could come up with all kinds of similar situations where, in my world, the base-level assumption is that whatever He wants WILL happen regardless of what I might or might not want.

I think that, in most husband/wife relationships, and (from my perspective) in most Domestic Discipline style relationshps as well, there is an underlying motivation or "goal" that both parties will get there needs met and end up feeling happy, satisfied, and fulfilled -- at least most of the time. In the Master/slave dynamic, the assumption and the goal is that His life will be made easier and fuller by His ownership of the slave. In our household, He is very often sincerely appreciative of the efforts made to keep His life moving along smoothly. On the other hand, there are a thousand little things that happen in His wake each day, that He never really sees. They are the expected, assumed, continued, "air He breathes." He knows, that it is His "right" to have the things He wants, and He simply expects that to be in His life. Providing that is my role (and T's).

All of which probably brings up the question of "why?" Why would someone choose to enter deliberately and consciously, with intent and full awareness into this kind of relationship (because the choice is critical and essential)?

I don't know that I can offer you an adequate answer to that question. I think, for me, the sheer power and energy that I found in Master were very compelling in the beginning. There is a definite part of my makeup that craves and responds to power and control. Our move into M/s was more gradual than the route that many people take. We had time to come to learn a great deal about one another; time to talk and converse and become friends, play partners, and then lovers BEFORE we found ourselves contemplating the prospect of His ownership of me. By the time we had reached that juncture in our relatedness, the step into the dynamic was not as extreme as it might have otherwise been. We already knew each other very well. We already knew what we envisioned for ourselves. We were THERE. For us, it was really a matter of acknowledging what was already the reality.

It isn't a relational dynamic for everyone. It isn't, truthfully, even a relationship dynamic for very many. There are plenty of times when I find myself talking to myself and saying, "you're a slave -- just shut up and slave. It isn't supposed to be glamorous." Some compare it to a spiritual path, and it can feel that way by times. Some find it to be incredibly erotic, and there can surely be that element to it as well. It is my belief that it IS a personal path that, because it fits with a simple truth about who I am in my deepest core, can bring me to my very best self. It isn't easy. It requires a good deal of integrity and intellect and awareness and personal committment and discipline, but it is a way that, for me, matches and answers echoes in my soul.

swan