We have consistently said that our dynamic includes elements of Domestic Discipline as it is understood within the context of our overarching BDSM lifestyle. Too, we've described our practice of switching with one another disciplinarily. That sometimes stands our normal power dynamic on its head. It necessitates the very real transfer of power from Him back to me, and that presents a variety of challenges
Actually, we are tentative about laying claim to the domestic discipline label. Far too many people have a very simplistic view of how that sort of power exchange works -- or should work. Most confuse discipline with punishment, and the fact is that DD most often gets twisted into a convoluted dance that is almost entirely focused on finding reasons to punish, or finding ways to goad the partner into punishing. When that happens, the dynamic devolves into a game that is manipulative and dishonest at some level.
Still, we've maintained that there is a disciplinary element to our dynamic. We've not invoked it very often, but we have never relinquished the potential to use it either. We persist in believing that there is a place for disciplinary power exchange within our intimate and loving relationship, and we hold it to ourselves -- a relational tool to be used sparingly and carefully to forward our goals as individuals and as a family. There must be, in our view of things, a way to use discipline positively within an adult relationship. What I'll share in the rest of this entry, illustrates how we do that, and is shared here in that spirit.
As Master wrote, He and I have embarked on a process that we intend to have result in significant moderation of His use of alcohol. We are both entirely clear that the drinking behavior has reached a level that is harmful on a number of levels -- certainly it is damaging His health, and putting an ongoing and unremitting strain on our relationship. So we know we need to change that behavior pattern. Neither of us are believers in the classic 12-step approach to managing addiction, and so we must find another way.
I am an educator with many years of experience. Being a good educator necessarily encompasses the skills needed to establish and maintain positive discipline. I know that I have really good instincts in this arena.
With all of that, exerting control over my own Master, especially in a context where He is inclined to be resistant, unhappy, and difficult is a devilishly tricky proposition. I'd be lying if I were to claim that I'm having an easy time maintaining that balance.
We've made a couple of passes at creating a plan for reducing and managing His drinking -- we have had Him recording how much He was drinking -- trying to understand what the "baseline" might be, we've proposed to limit the number of drinks He could have in an evening, we've talked about measuring volumes, round and round and round, falling into just about every possible pit we can find along the way. It hasn't gone entirely smoothly. Aw, hell! It has been an unmitigated misery!
Last night was particularly ugly. Our evening wasn't pleasant, and as the night wore on He became increasingly intoxicated and increasingly combative. I was buffeted emotionally, despairing of ever being able to make any dent in this, sure that no matter what I tried to do, He would find a way to manipulate and twist whatever plan into a mockery. By the time He finally drank Himself to unconsciousness I was exhausted, relieved, and completely beaten.
This morning dawned bleakly in our household. I got up, showered, dressed, fixed the morning's drinks and food, packed my lunch, had a bit of breakfast and left for school. We exchanged our normal hugs and pleasantries, but my heart was just not in it. Honestly, I drove to school wondering if it made any sense at all for me to come back home this afternoon. Then about 9:30, I got an email from Master. It read --
I am so sorry about last night. I have been pondering it all morning as I walked. Part of me wants to say you shouldn't accept that behavior from me. It is one thing to be a disciplinarian and keep your eye on the ball of the behavior objective. On the other hand you should not be disrespected and emotionally abused and I am afraid I may have done that last night. I would not accept that behavior out of you.
Another theme in my head is that clearly I am still consuming too much alcohol. I really do think metering that alcohol.........actually measuring the quantities has to be crucial to the moderation of all this.
Another thing is I wonder if I do not just have to be permanently abstinent or at the least abstinent for a while. I recall … that there is a hormone that you have in your system to process alcohol. It is more prevalent the more you drink. That prevalence is the basis of alcohol tolerance. If you are abstinent for a period (I don't recall how long) it goes away until you drink again and then is secreted less … thus less tolerance. At the least maybe I should take some time off from drinking so that my resistance decreases.
I don't know exactly what to say or what to do. I just know I love you and don't want to hurt you. I am determined tonight will be very different.
I love you so much, thank you.
Mine Always and All Ways,
Tom
It was, obviously, a first salvo in an attempt to mend fences, and I wasn't entirely ready to have my fences fooled with. I responded in a short, and somewhat distant sounding email of my own --
I love You.
I am so glad to see you here.
I saw you for just a minute on IM, but then you were gone... :-(
I love You so much -- I really do. I hope you are OK.
The rest we can maybe work out given some time.
I love you.
Yours always and all ways.
sue
Then, later, during my planning period, we had an IM conversation. Here is the transcript of that talk:
Master: I didn't realize how soon 10:30 was coming up … I love you
Swan: I love You … please don't stop believing that
Master: I don't and won't
Swan: thank you
Master: did I say that too?
Swan: you said a lot …
Master: I am so sorry
Swan: and then things got just weird, babbling about all the people that I am hooked to on the internet and how you needed to do something to prove that I am still yours; talking about this woman who "used to be yours" -- like I wasn't even in the room
Master: I wonder which people those might be?
Swan: I asked that
Swan: you just told me I was being passive aggressive
Master: and I wonder who she would have been too
Master: I'm the passive aggressive
Swan: well
Swan: you drink
Swan: and then you aren't the same
Master: telling you to discipline me to quit drinking and then throwing everything but the kitchen sink at you to punish you
Master: I was pondering the wisdom of this thing this morning...
I am two people
Tom drunk
Tom sober
both share the same ass
so you really can punish both
Swan: I think that if we are going to make progress, we need to banish "Tom Drunk"
Master: and Tom sober wants you to do that
Swan: I have been contemplating -- I see three choices here. Maybe there are others, but what we're doing isn't working
Master: you think?
Master: what we are doing could work but we are not controlling volumn by just controlling the number of "glasses" regardless of the content of alcohol
Swan: I see three choices:
choice 1 -- we give this up. You get drunk every night. Your health goes to hell, but you would die happy
Master: likely I would not be happy
Swan: choice 2 -- you quit drinking; get sober and stay that way
Master: and live unhappy
Master: or behind door 3
Swan: choice 3 -- I pour your drinks and I say when you are done. Bartender has final say and no fussing when it is time to quit
Master: damn...........you are a toughy
Swan: you asked me to take control
Master: and I bet I know what happens when I get fussy
Master: well I did
Master: and that would be control
Swan: you don't need to decide now
Swan: think about it
Master: I like it
Swan: I just won't do what we've been doing anymore
Master: well I don't "like it"
Swan: I have no control and all the shit that you can heap on my head every night
Master: but I think it has promise for moderation
Swan: you are still there during the day
Swan: you could surely cheat all day long
Master: and if we were in social situations you'd appear to be being submissive getting me my drinks
Swan: but I can look at you and tell when you've had too much
Swan: and that would be it
Swan: no roaring
Swan: no staggering
Swan: no combative nastiness
Master: OK thank you
Swan: no weird non-conversations
Master: no absolute abstinence
Swan: just "the bar is closed," Sir
Swan: no abstinence
Master: thank you
Swan: maybe a chance to establish what moderation looks like and feels like
Swan: for all of us
Master: damn! you are so smart
Swan: I love You
Master: I love you and thank you
Swan: you are welcome
Swan: yours....
Swan: always and all ways
Master: and I don't have to get beaten for being as awful as I was last night
Master: thank you
Swan: no
Master: mine always and all ways
Swan: and I don't have to engage in a fruitless exercise in pointless sadism
Swan: because once you've had "enough" to drink, you can't make judgments that lead to controlling this
Master: thank you so much
Swan: I love You
Swan: I was afraid you would hate me for this approach
Swan: I am so relieved
Swan: you seem relieved, too
I think there is a fair amount of material there that is potentially "instructive" to someone who really does want to engage in a disciplinary dynamic. It isn't just a game to create an opportunity for spankning. It takes strength and courage and integrity and more than just a bit of intellect. To create effective discipline requires some sort of ability to think critically about whatever IS. A good disciplinarian describes the problem, asks the deep questions that help to define what is causing the problem, and then formulates viable solutions. You can give any idiot a paddle (or more commonly in DD relationships, a belt or a wooden kitchen tool) and turn them lose. That is not discipline.
We will, of course, implement corporal discipline as it is required through this process. We have, in fact, done that this very evening. I can't write that story just now. Perhaps tomorrow.
swan
8/30/2010
Posting with Trepidation
I have been teetering back and forth about the wisdom of exposing much about this aspect of my/our life.
We have written, both swan and I recently, that I have returned, after a several year hiatus from switching roles in our SM power exchange, to my actively bottoming again. That dynamic has gone beyond my simply switching playfully to include my being corporally punished as a behavior support to help me achieve a behavior goal I am finding challenging, and that I need to control more effectively.
The issue is my alcohol consumption. I am hesitant to reveal this here in that each time this issue has arisen in our writing here it has resulted in a cascade or vitriolic comments by anonymous commenters and some even less that supportive or helpful comments from some of our more frequent correspondents here.
I think alcohol and our relationship to it is a difficult subject to discuss constructively especially for the demographics of this blog community. Most people who have been around BDSM for a while know that there is a higher incidence of alcoholism among people who practice BDSM. If you go to a BDSM conference you find in general that there are a higher than average number of smokers, a higher than average number of people in substance abuse recovery and/or actively abusing, and a higher than average number of morbidly obese people. If you had looked at me 10 years ago I fit that demographic stereotype perfectly. I was obese, heavily tobacco addicted, and used alcohol to excess on a regular basis. I have over the last decade managed to entirely end my tobacco consumption (tobacco free since January 2000), and my obesity ended once and for all with my loss of 160 pounds in 2009 after my gastric bypass surgery. The benefits for my health have been amazing for me.
I am determined now to get my drinking under control. Especially since my job loss, I have drank to excess regularly and daily. As I have written I have found my sudden career ending very difficult. I have experienced a range of emotions from fear for our future, to remorse, to ANGER, to depression, to feeling a sense of loss of control (loss of control I always a huge problem for me), and I have self-medicated with my good friend Jack Daniel. However, as I have written, this is not new behavior for me.
My drinking history since my gastric bypass has been "interesting." After my surgery I abstained entirely from any alcohol for seven months, which was a recommended time period by my medical team. Then I returned to drinking. A challenging aspect of all this is that after Rouen Y Gastric Bypass procedures alcohol you consume gets "dumped" into your blood stream in a "raw" form without the digestive processing a normal gastrointestinal system accomplishes when someone drinks alcohol. This intensifies the intoxicating effects of alcohol, and is particularly acute if one drinks rapidly. The other oddity is that the intoxicating effects of alcohol, while more acute after gastric bypass, are much more short lived than for "normal" people. It is estimated that even should you drink to excess after gastric bypass, if you stop drinking for 45 minutes you will be completely sober whereas, of course, if one drinks to excess normally sobriety takes much longer than that to achieve.
This is my last great health issue and I am determined to control it. Further more I am determined not to completely eliminate the behavior altogether as I did with smoking, but to moderate my consumption. I know this flies in the face of the belief system for many that total abstinence is the only acceptable option. That is not however my belief, intention, or goal.
We have established a limit on my drinking consumption and should I exceed it sue is empowered to do what she sees fit to punish me. This has happened once last Friday. One of the challenges in all this is that I am by nature very controlling..............Dominant. Disciplining, i. e., exerting external control on me is challenging. You need to be effective without causing me to tip over into defiance, which an almost reflexive response for me. In fact that happened last Thursday night. I reached my drink limit that evening and then became very defiant and announced that this whole issue of my having a drink limit is just stupid, I can do whatever the hell I want, and then quite rebelliously went ahead to exceed my drink limit. The next day swan and I discussed this whole business via email and IM while she was at school and she made it clear I was going to be punished. I had not been punished for years and years. I became quite emotionally upset. Having to give up control and accept that was difficult and quite frankly I was afraid. I have been very sadistic with swan at times in her discipline and I knew well she was quite competent and sincere about wanting to do this and to not having to correct me repeatedly. swan is, as you likely know, an educator. As she has put it frequently she does discipline professionally for a living, does not like that aspect of her career particularly other than that it is crucially necessary to achieve her goals, and particularly finds it egregious if she has to correct a behavior more than once. I was very afraid how severe she was going to be with me. I was feeling huge remorse, guilt, concern for how she was going to feel emotionally as she had to do this radical juxtapositioning of our power exchange etc.
Thank goodness she came home and, at my request, did not wait until Saturday to discipline me, as she had originally planned. At at my request she undertook to get "it" over with, seeing how emotional I was. As almost always happens for bottom partners, my punishment was not as severe as I had catastrophically imagined. It also was not a cake walk (25 severe licks with a rattan cane and several strokes afterwards with about a half dozen other high end severity implements to demonstrate for me just how much she could ratchet up the severity of my punishment should I make that necessary by my behavior.) I was relieved when it was over in that it had not been as harsh as I'd imagined. My pre-punishment emotions changed to feelings of huge gratitude to swan for her doing this in such a measured and serious way, while taking into account the feelings I was having. I felt, and have continued to feel, an intense reconnection with her since that time.
We had a nice weekend after that entertaining a couple of friends Saturday night (vanilla couple that has come to accept us in our polyamory) and with lots of playful erotic spanking between sue and I and lots of vanilla loving as well. Actually it was one of the happiest weekends we've had. And, BTW, no I did not violate my limits.
Then Sunday evening we settled in to watch some TV. For some reason I had a particularly intense desire to drink that night, and of course ran right into the limits that we have established. I did not violate the limits but I became like an angry child who could not have his way. I was aggravated, pouty, angry and on the verge of having an actual tantrum which thankfully I did not go to. While evenings with me drunk are not necessarily fun, this was not fun either, for either of us. I didn't behave angrily towards swan but just generally pissy. I knew this was not something she was doing to me, but rather, for me, at my request, as my slave. I also knew that last night at least had I not had the reinforcement available of inevitable punishment, were I to have violated my limit, I would have likely binged.
Unlike Friday night I did not become defiant, nor did I violate my limit. I simply was angry and passive aggressive about it, mostly making myself unhappy. I hate it when I cannot be in control. Of course the paradox is that when I drink too much I become out of control. Our disciplinary switching in this regard is my surrendering a degree of control to swan so she can help me gain much more important control over a serious health issue. As for my emotions last night, it is going to be up to me to choose how long I want to make myself unhappy because I CAN'T HAVE MY WAY............or for for me to recognize that not drinking to excess is my actually having me way. Stamping my foot and pouting is not a very adult or useful response. I'm lucky swan is wise enough to realize that I followed the behavior plan, and there is nothing in my plan that necessarily requires me to have to be happy about it.
So that is where we are in all this switching business. We have always been open about our lives here, good, bad and indifferent and this is just another example of that forthcomingness.
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
We have written, both swan and I recently, that I have returned, after a several year hiatus from switching roles in our SM power exchange, to my actively bottoming again. That dynamic has gone beyond my simply switching playfully to include my being corporally punished as a behavior support to help me achieve a behavior goal I am finding challenging, and that I need to control more effectively.
The issue is my alcohol consumption. I am hesitant to reveal this here in that each time this issue has arisen in our writing here it has resulted in a cascade or vitriolic comments by anonymous commenters and some even less that supportive or helpful comments from some of our more frequent correspondents here.
I think alcohol and our relationship to it is a difficult subject to discuss constructively especially for the demographics of this blog community. Most people who have been around BDSM for a while know that there is a higher incidence of alcoholism among people who practice BDSM. If you go to a BDSM conference you find in general that there are a higher than average number of smokers, a higher than average number of people in substance abuse recovery and/or actively abusing, and a higher than average number of morbidly obese people. If you had looked at me 10 years ago I fit that demographic stereotype perfectly. I was obese, heavily tobacco addicted, and used alcohol to excess on a regular basis. I have over the last decade managed to entirely end my tobacco consumption (tobacco free since January 2000), and my obesity ended once and for all with my loss of 160 pounds in 2009 after my gastric bypass surgery. The benefits for my health have been amazing for me.
I am determined now to get my drinking under control. Especially since my job loss, I have drank to excess regularly and daily. As I have written I have found my sudden career ending very difficult. I have experienced a range of emotions from fear for our future, to remorse, to ANGER, to depression, to feeling a sense of loss of control (loss of control I always a huge problem for me), and I have self-medicated with my good friend Jack Daniel. However, as I have written, this is not new behavior for me.
My drinking history since my gastric bypass has been "interesting." After my surgery I abstained entirely from any alcohol for seven months, which was a recommended time period by my medical team. Then I returned to drinking. A challenging aspect of all this is that after Rouen Y Gastric Bypass procedures alcohol you consume gets "dumped" into your blood stream in a "raw" form without the digestive processing a normal gastrointestinal system accomplishes when someone drinks alcohol. This intensifies the intoxicating effects of alcohol, and is particularly acute if one drinks rapidly. The other oddity is that the intoxicating effects of alcohol, while more acute after gastric bypass, are much more short lived than for "normal" people. It is estimated that even should you drink to excess after gastric bypass, if you stop drinking for 45 minutes you will be completely sober whereas, of course, if one drinks to excess normally sobriety takes much longer than that to achieve.
This is my last great health issue and I am determined to control it. Further more I am determined not to completely eliminate the behavior altogether as I did with smoking, but to moderate my consumption. I know this flies in the face of the belief system for many that total abstinence is the only acceptable option. That is not however my belief, intention, or goal.
We have established a limit on my drinking consumption and should I exceed it sue is empowered to do what she sees fit to punish me. This has happened once last Friday. One of the challenges in all this is that I am by nature very controlling..............Dominant. Disciplining, i. e., exerting external control on me is challenging. You need to be effective without causing me to tip over into defiance, which an almost reflexive response for me. In fact that happened last Thursday night. I reached my drink limit that evening and then became very defiant and announced that this whole issue of my having a drink limit is just stupid, I can do whatever the hell I want, and then quite rebelliously went ahead to exceed my drink limit. The next day swan and I discussed this whole business via email and IM while she was at school and she made it clear I was going to be punished. I had not been punished for years and years. I became quite emotionally upset. Having to give up control and accept that was difficult and quite frankly I was afraid. I have been very sadistic with swan at times in her discipline and I knew well she was quite competent and sincere about wanting to do this and to not having to correct me repeatedly. swan is, as you likely know, an educator. As she has put it frequently she does discipline professionally for a living, does not like that aspect of her career particularly other than that it is crucially necessary to achieve her goals, and particularly finds it egregious if she has to correct a behavior more than once. I was very afraid how severe she was going to be with me. I was feeling huge remorse, guilt, concern for how she was going to feel emotionally as she had to do this radical juxtapositioning of our power exchange etc.
Thank goodness she came home and, at my request, did not wait until Saturday to discipline me, as she had originally planned. At at my request she undertook to get "it" over with, seeing how emotional I was. As almost always happens for bottom partners, my punishment was not as severe as I had catastrophically imagined. It also was not a cake walk (25 severe licks with a rattan cane and several strokes afterwards with about a half dozen other high end severity implements to demonstrate for me just how much she could ratchet up the severity of my punishment should I make that necessary by my behavior.) I was relieved when it was over in that it had not been as harsh as I'd imagined. My pre-punishment emotions changed to feelings of huge gratitude to swan for her doing this in such a measured and serious way, while taking into account the feelings I was having. I felt, and have continued to feel, an intense reconnection with her since that time.
We had a nice weekend after that entertaining a couple of friends Saturday night (vanilla couple that has come to accept us in our polyamory) and with lots of playful erotic spanking between sue and I and lots of vanilla loving as well. Actually it was one of the happiest weekends we've had. And, BTW, no I did not violate my limits.
Then Sunday evening we settled in to watch some TV. For some reason I had a particularly intense desire to drink that night, and of course ran right into the limits that we have established. I did not violate the limits but I became like an angry child who could not have his way. I was aggravated, pouty, angry and on the verge of having an actual tantrum which thankfully I did not go to. While evenings with me drunk are not necessarily fun, this was not fun either, for either of us. I didn't behave angrily towards swan but just generally pissy. I knew this was not something she was doing to me, but rather, for me, at my request, as my slave. I also knew that last night at least had I not had the reinforcement available of inevitable punishment, were I to have violated my limit, I would have likely binged.
Unlike Friday night I did not become defiant, nor did I violate my limit. I simply was angry and passive aggressive about it, mostly making myself unhappy. I hate it when I cannot be in control. Of course the paradox is that when I drink too much I become out of control. Our disciplinary switching in this regard is my surrendering a degree of control to swan so she can help me gain much more important control over a serious health issue. As for my emotions last night, it is going to be up to me to choose how long I want to make myself unhappy because I CAN'T HAVE MY WAY............or for for me to recognize that not drinking to excess is my actually having me way. Stamping my foot and pouting is not a very adult or useful response. I'm lucky swan is wise enough to realize that I followed the behavior plan, and there is nothing in my plan that necessarily requires me to have to be happy about it.
So that is where we are in all this switching business. We have always been open about our lives here, good, bad and indifferent and this is just another example of that forthcomingness.
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
8/28/2010
Harrassment
Bonnie recently posted about a couple of spanking blogs that have shut down/disappeared in the last bit of time because they've fallen prey to harrassment and abuse and anonymous comment vitriol.
It does seem that the very fact of blogging opens us up to a wider universe where at least some people believe that we are, by the very nature of what we write and share, fair game. Over the course of the years that I (and we) have written about our lives here, we've experienced that phenomenon to varying degrees -- sometimes hardly anyone chooses to come here to leave nasty, judgemental, hateful comments -- and then there are seasons where the anonymous ones seem to crawl out of their hidey holes to spew mean stuff everywhere. It does seem to me that the incidence of that sort of thing is increasing -- I wonder how many people take the predominant culture of Fetlife out into the blogosphere and just assume that it is reasonable to be combative in every encounter?
Whatever ... It isn't just us. Around the circle of people who are linked here, and the wider spanking community, almost everyone has been subjected to periodic assaults by mostly anonymous nitwits who take it upon themselves to leave nasty comments all over the place.
There are ways to protect yourself, if you write in this format, from these creeps. A simple change of the settings on this blog would effectively eliminate the possibility that any anonymous commenter would ever write a single hateful word and post it on this site. Believe me, I've been tempted ... on more than one occasion, to make that the way of it here. The problem with that solution is that, occasionally an anonymous commenter stops by and leaves a comment that is interesting, intelligent, thought provoking, respectful. Blocking all the anonymous commenters would save us the trouble of dealing with the nasty, immature, combative ones; but it would also deprive us of the pleasure of conversation with the now and then stranger who stops by and offers something of value. So far, we've chosen to preserve the option for that unexpected and oh so welcome guest.
I don't like mean anonymous comments. They do bother me. I choose to delete them, rather than wonder whether the intent was really as mean as it seems it might be. When it comes down to it, I've decided that, if I am wondering about it, then it probably is just easier to delete those nasty comments from unidentified critters. We've been writing here for a really long time. Beyond these last couple of blogs that have been driven into oblivion, we've seen plenty of good people vanish from view because of harrassment from the self-righteous folk who think they know what is best for ALL OF US. We've withstood the firestorm of criticism for years and years. After awhile, doing this, you develop a pretty tough hide.
We'll continue to protect and defend the integrity of this place while working to keep the discourse as free and open as we can. Sometimes that means that all of us will be exposed to some ignorant, judgemental bit of doggerel from some self-righteous, tight-assed, know-it-all, anonymous commenter. Be assured that we'll continue to eliminate that "stuff" from our comment pages, and go right on sharing the truth of our lives with those readers and friends (alice, morningstar, greenwoman, selkie, impish, oatmeal girl, abby, chloe, mouse, tangerine tease, danae, bonnie, lynlass, kaya, PK, -- and a whole host of others) who have come to be such a positive force in our lives.
Thanks to each and all of you!
swan
It does seem that the very fact of blogging opens us up to a wider universe where at least some people believe that we are, by the very nature of what we write and share, fair game. Over the course of the years that I (and we) have written about our lives here, we've experienced that phenomenon to varying degrees -- sometimes hardly anyone chooses to come here to leave nasty, judgemental, hateful comments -- and then there are seasons where the anonymous ones seem to crawl out of their hidey holes to spew mean stuff everywhere. It does seem to me that the incidence of that sort of thing is increasing -- I wonder how many people take the predominant culture of Fetlife out into the blogosphere and just assume that it is reasonable to be combative in every encounter?
Whatever ... It isn't just us. Around the circle of people who are linked here, and the wider spanking community, almost everyone has been subjected to periodic assaults by mostly anonymous nitwits who take it upon themselves to leave nasty comments all over the place.
There are ways to protect yourself, if you write in this format, from these creeps. A simple change of the settings on this blog would effectively eliminate the possibility that any anonymous commenter would ever write a single hateful word and post it on this site. Believe me, I've been tempted ... on more than one occasion, to make that the way of it here. The problem with that solution is that, occasionally an anonymous commenter stops by and leaves a comment that is interesting, intelligent, thought provoking, respectful. Blocking all the anonymous commenters would save us the trouble of dealing with the nasty, immature, combative ones; but it would also deprive us of the pleasure of conversation with the now and then stranger who stops by and offers something of value. So far, we've chosen to preserve the option for that unexpected and oh so welcome guest.
We'll continue to protect and defend the integrity of this place while working to keep the discourse as free and open as we can. Sometimes that means that all of us will be exposed to some ignorant, judgemental bit of doggerel from some self-righteous, tight-assed, know-it-all, anonymous commenter. Be assured that we'll continue to eliminate that "stuff" from our comment pages, and go right on sharing the truth of our lives with those readers and friends (alice, morningstar, greenwoman, selkie, impish, oatmeal girl, abby, chloe, mouse, tangerine tease, danae, bonnie, lynlass, kaya, PK, -- and a whole host of others) who have come to be such a positive force in our lives.
Thanks to each and all of you!
swan
8/26/2010
Taking Stock of A Summer of Sudden Immersion Cessation
This is a rare experience..........my writing here. It is not that I have never been a contributor here. Certainly I have, but easily 95% of what is here was authored by my swan. Perhaps now that I am unemployed I will write more.
My life (ergo our three lives) are in transition. I have become unemployed since mid June. We are surviving financially as a result of unemployment benefits, and significant changes overseen by swan in her role in our family which we laughingly call the "checkbook Nazi." We have survived the summer and have even entertained guests and taken a brief vacation and we are still paying the bills, eating, getting medical care and doing fine, despite the loss of my professional income. Fortunately, in less than eight months I will be eligible to collect social security and that benefit doesn't offset against unemployment insurance benefits. When my unemployment eligibility ends I have a pension I will be able to collect. My retirement will not be as lucrative as I would have liked but I am afforded a good enough income which when combined with our other two allows us to continue our lifestyle relatively comfortably. I am frankly amazed.
We are at the end of our "summer" which is generally defined in our family as the period swan's school is out of session. What a summer it was! When the summer began I was still CEO of a nonprofit corporation that was in the midst of a serious budget crisis born of the economic woes we are all experiencing, and a seriously incompetent fiscal officer. A week and a half into the summer I was let go. June 15, 2010 was my first day of unemployment in 35 years. Three weeks later I collected my first ever government check. Now I know that it is unemployment insurance paid from a wage pool that I paid into in roughly 42 years of work, and not funded by taxes, but still I am getting weekly checks from a public agency for no work. It is a divergence.
Another key feature of this summer was our visit with morningstar. Her 10 day stay here was a gift. Our many conversations about every aspect of life, great and small, covered so much territory. I have felt a sort of drop since she returned home. Being immersed in her reality and her attention to ours, was a gift. The transition from that immersion to not communicating with her much at all feels like a loss, but not one I have done anything to remedy. It still seems odd to me when swan and I walk and come down the inclined sidewalk behind our condos to not see her on our patio reading a book and waving to us. I think sudden transitions from immersion are a theme for me as I write this. Beyond the gifts of morningstar's relating to us, she totally distracted me from the trauma of my job loss. We explored "tourist" aspects of our community which are quite enjoyable and inexpensive, which I had not paid attention to in the 11 and 1/2 years I've lived here.
Then there was swan's brother's visit. Swan had not seen him since before she came to us 8 and a 1/4 years ago. He had at first been judgemental and alienated from her in reaction to the life choice she made in becoming part of our family. Over time swan's very dysfunctional mother has managed to alienate swan's brother and just about all the rest of her family with her mean-spirited vitriol. It is sad to see someone so elderly so alone, but she drives even friends from her. swan's brother no longer feeling the need to choose between his mom and swan, has resumed the very close brother/sister relationship they had throughout their childhoods. It was a wonderful visit, and selfishly I might add, that he and I got on very well. He enjoyed all three of us, and lived with us in our 2 condos and our poly intentional family lifestyle and emerged "unscathed.":) What a huge success and a gift for both he and swan,
Then swan and I traveled to Denver and visited her son and daughter in law and her wonderful about 15 month old grandson. He is the cutest and most developmentally advanced boy. His parents are wonderful with him. It was great swan and I both got to see him. This likely would not have happened if I had not lost my job. The freedom of my unemployment made this trip possible. It was an intensive 6 days of traveling and relating but it was wonderful. As all trips do, this intensively immersive experience ended suddenly when we returned home.
T has had an intense summer too. Readers here will perhaps remember that her previous job was phased out of her organization, and she located a new position, working for the same company, but with a very rigorous over 3 month training period during which time off was restricted. Her previous job had been four ten-hour days. This new one returned her to a five day a week schedule, and reduced her pay. On the other hand, it reduced her commute to work to less than a mile, greatly reducing the costs of her going to work. She didn't accompany swan and I to Denver because she didn't have time off available to her. She also has been immersed in the experience of her Mom's disability due to the five strokes she has suffered and compounded by her lung disease, and has spent some weekends with her, providing her niece direct care relief and respite. On those weekends, swan and I usually "visit" our wife at her Mom's. It is an ironic experience.
At the beginning of this summer swan and I discovered a new family doctor we like. We three have all transitioned to his primary care practice. He very early on tested my testosterone levels. I have been receiving testosterone hormone replacement therapy for about eight or nine years. It turned out that what with me having lost 50% of my weight from my gastric bypass surgery in March 2009, I was, as they refer to it in sports, "juiced." No one intended for me to have hugely excessive testosterone levels, least of all me, but I, in fact, was on testosterone supplement to the point that is similar to the levels some baseball and other sports figures have gotten into trouble for taking illegitimately and illegally to enhance their physical development and sports performance. My level was above the level they are even able to measure. I then, with my doctor, discontinued my testosterone replacement therapy. I was tested after two weeks of discontinuation, and my level was essentially zero. They then put me back on the replacement therapy and two weeks later I was back to being off the charts on the high end again. I am now awaiting results of a test from being on half doses of testosterone to see if my levels have finally leveled off at a level that is "normal." This roller coaster from hugely excessive testosterone, to no testosterone, to where ever the hell it is I am now has put me through major changes physically and emotionally..............another emergence and transition from total immersion.
As all this has gone on, for some reason, and I haven't figured out why yet, I have developed "switch energy." Years ago I didn't do BDSM (adult consensual spanking and related arts) play only from the Top or Dominant end of the power exchange. I also "switched" to bottom in some play, i. e., to be spanked etc. Then about five years ago I lost any desire to ever be anything but a Top or Dominant partner. Suddenly I am interested in switching. I have not lost my Dominant basic personality. I have not lost my desire to be a sadistic Top, but I have returned to wanting to also bottom.........even to the point of receiving honest to goodness domestic discipline. I have gone from a complete immersion in Dominance as my BDSM role and my family relatedness to switching......another startling and sudden transition.
This past summer when I lost my job, I had not had a vacation in years. All of what time off I had from my all absorbing career had been medical leaves for the various surgeries and illnesses I've had. I loved being free, and since swan was off school, we were continuous companions loving, power walking, communicating, doing everything together. This past Tuesday school resumed. Her time for me has dropped significantly and suddenly. I am alone and unemployed and uncertain about my future, trying not to question my worth. Total immersion ends yet again. Even I can see the trend here:)
I am having a tough transition. I've had many others in my life and they have generally been beneficial. I am loved, and well, and fed, and when swan gets home today, we will take our power walk and get with t, have dinner, and our evening with us all together.
There was a song in my youth with lyrics, "The nights are forever without you." I would have to paraphrase that for my present reality, "The days are forever without you."
All the best,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
My life (ergo our three lives) are in transition. I have become unemployed since mid June. We are surviving financially as a result of unemployment benefits, and significant changes overseen by swan in her role in our family which we laughingly call the "checkbook Nazi." We have survived the summer and have even entertained guests and taken a brief vacation and we are still paying the bills, eating, getting medical care and doing fine, despite the loss of my professional income. Fortunately, in less than eight months I will be eligible to collect social security and that benefit doesn't offset against unemployment insurance benefits. When my unemployment eligibility ends I have a pension I will be able to collect. My retirement will not be as lucrative as I would have liked but I am afforded a good enough income which when combined with our other two allows us to continue our lifestyle relatively comfortably. I am frankly amazed.
We are at the end of our "summer" which is generally defined in our family as the period swan's school is out of session. What a summer it was! When the summer began I was still CEO of a nonprofit corporation that was in the midst of a serious budget crisis born of the economic woes we are all experiencing, and a seriously incompetent fiscal officer. A week and a half into the summer I was let go. June 15, 2010 was my first day of unemployment in 35 years. Three weeks later I collected my first ever government check. Now I know that it is unemployment insurance paid from a wage pool that I paid into in roughly 42 years of work, and not funded by taxes, but still I am getting weekly checks from a public agency for no work. It is a divergence.
Another key feature of this summer was our visit with morningstar. Her 10 day stay here was a gift. Our many conversations about every aspect of life, great and small, covered so much territory. I have felt a sort of drop since she returned home. Being immersed in her reality and her attention to ours, was a gift. The transition from that immersion to not communicating with her much at all feels like a loss, but not one I have done anything to remedy. It still seems odd to me when swan and I walk and come down the inclined sidewalk behind our condos to not see her on our patio reading a book and waving to us. I think sudden transitions from immersion are a theme for me as I write this. Beyond the gifts of morningstar's relating to us, she totally distracted me from the trauma of my job loss. We explored "tourist" aspects of our community which are quite enjoyable and inexpensive, which I had not paid attention to in the 11 and 1/2 years I've lived here.
Then there was swan's brother's visit. Swan had not seen him since before she came to us 8 and a 1/4 years ago. He had at first been judgemental and alienated from her in reaction to the life choice she made in becoming part of our family. Over time swan's very dysfunctional mother has managed to alienate swan's brother and just about all the rest of her family with her mean-spirited vitriol. It is sad to see someone so elderly so alone, but she drives even friends from her. swan's brother no longer feeling the need to choose between his mom and swan, has resumed the very close brother/sister relationship they had throughout their childhoods. It was a wonderful visit, and selfishly I might add, that he and I got on very well. He enjoyed all three of us, and lived with us in our 2 condos and our poly intentional family lifestyle and emerged "unscathed.":) What a huge success and a gift for both he and swan,
Then swan and I traveled to Denver and visited her son and daughter in law and her wonderful about 15 month old grandson. He is the cutest and most developmentally advanced boy. His parents are wonderful with him. It was great swan and I both got to see him. This likely would not have happened if I had not lost my job. The freedom of my unemployment made this trip possible. It was an intensive 6 days of traveling and relating but it was wonderful. As all trips do, this intensively immersive experience ended suddenly when we returned home.
T has had an intense summer too. Readers here will perhaps remember that her previous job was phased out of her organization, and she located a new position, working for the same company, but with a very rigorous over 3 month training period during which time off was restricted. Her previous job had been four ten-hour days. This new one returned her to a five day a week schedule, and reduced her pay. On the other hand, it reduced her commute to work to less than a mile, greatly reducing the costs of her going to work. She didn't accompany swan and I to Denver because she didn't have time off available to her. She also has been immersed in the experience of her Mom's disability due to the five strokes she has suffered and compounded by her lung disease, and has spent some weekends with her, providing her niece direct care relief and respite. On those weekends, swan and I usually "visit" our wife at her Mom's. It is an ironic experience.
At the beginning of this summer swan and I discovered a new family doctor we like. We three have all transitioned to his primary care practice. He very early on tested my testosterone levels. I have been receiving testosterone hormone replacement therapy for about eight or nine years. It turned out that what with me having lost 50% of my weight from my gastric bypass surgery in March 2009, I was, as they refer to it in sports, "juiced." No one intended for me to have hugely excessive testosterone levels, least of all me, but I, in fact, was on testosterone supplement to the point that is similar to the levels some baseball and other sports figures have gotten into trouble for taking illegitimately and illegally to enhance their physical development and sports performance. My level was above the level they are even able to measure. I then, with my doctor, discontinued my testosterone replacement therapy. I was tested after two weeks of discontinuation, and my level was essentially zero. They then put me back on the replacement therapy and two weeks later I was back to being off the charts on the high end again. I am now awaiting results of a test from being on half doses of testosterone to see if my levels have finally leveled off at a level that is "normal." This roller coaster from hugely excessive testosterone, to no testosterone, to where ever the hell it is I am now has put me through major changes physically and emotionally..............another emergence and transition from total immersion.
As all this has gone on, for some reason, and I haven't figured out why yet, I have developed "switch energy." Years ago I didn't do BDSM (adult consensual spanking and related arts) play only from the Top or Dominant end of the power exchange. I also "switched" to bottom in some play, i. e., to be spanked etc. Then about five years ago I lost any desire to ever be anything but a Top or Dominant partner. Suddenly I am interested in switching. I have not lost my Dominant basic personality. I have not lost my desire to be a sadistic Top, but I have returned to wanting to also bottom.........even to the point of receiving honest to goodness domestic discipline. I have gone from a complete immersion in Dominance as my BDSM role and my family relatedness to switching......another startling and sudden transition.
This past summer when I lost my job, I had not had a vacation in years. All of what time off I had from my all absorbing career had been medical leaves for the various surgeries and illnesses I've had. I loved being free, and since swan was off school, we were continuous companions loving, power walking, communicating, doing everything together. This past Tuesday school resumed. Her time for me has dropped significantly and suddenly. I am alone and unemployed and uncertain about my future, trying not to question my worth. Total immersion ends yet again. Even I can see the trend here:)
I am having a tough transition. I've had many others in my life and they have generally been beneficial. I am loved, and well, and fed, and when swan gets home today, we will take our power walk and get with t, have dinner, and our evening with us all together.
There was a song in my youth with lyrics, "The nights are forever without you." I would have to paraphrase that for my present reality, "The days are forever without you."
All the best,
Tom
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.
8/22/2010
Romantic
A couple of days ago, I made a comment in response to morningstar's musings about what sort of "label" might or might not be a fit for the way she is experiencing her place in the lifestyle at present. She talked about having lived as a submissive; having worked at trying to be a slave; having recently tried to play as a bottom -- and not feeling as if any of those roles really worked for her. She also talked about her long history in the lifestyle community; how she got her start, and the things that have inspired and excited her as she has traveled the path.
I suggested that, perhaps, the label she is looking for is "romantic," and then I went on to take some liberties with the way I proposed to define the word. Life went on, things got busy, and I hadn't checked back in to see what else might have come of the conversation -- until today. Today, with a bit of time to spend, I went back to find that some nameless person had taken my suggestion and opined that she didn't think that the BDSM activities that she finds "hot" are romantic. Idiot! Literal fool. Isn't it possible to conceive of a notion of the word, "romantic" that would encompass our kind of relating? Why can we not play at the edges of the alternative sexual realm and still experience something that we might fairly and honestly characterize as "romantic?"
A simple Internet search yields a range of definitions for the word, romantic: consisting of or resembling a romance; having no basis in fact : imaginary; impractical in conception or plan : visionary; responsive to the imaginary appeal of what is idealized, heroic, or adventurous; marked by expressions of love or affection; constituting the part of the hero especially in a light comedy. Clearly, beyond the somewhat narrow understanding of the word, this is a definition that allows for those of us who live and love LARGE; who love with imagination and a sense of adventure; who are even willing to allow for the possibility that sometimes love is a heroic thing -- or a comedy.
In terms of the etymology of the word, the sense of "love" that we associate with the idea of romance comes from the middle ages, when Latin was the language of the intellectuals but the languages of the people -- i.e., the Romance languages -- were the vulgar languages in which love stories were written.
I know that the common wisdom is that romance is about flowers and candy and sappy music -- about sugary sweet weddings and fairy tale happily ever after endings. Mature people love maturely. They come to know who they are, and they leave that adolescent dreaminess behind in favor of real love, and real romance with real partners. I suggested to morningstar that, as a "romantic," I could see her loving those people who would honor the woman she has come to be; who would strive to meet her needs and fulfill her desires -- even as she did the same for them. In my view, that constitutes "romance," and I'd rather live my life with that sort of romantic love than the flowery fantsies of my youth.
swan
I suggested that, perhaps, the label she is looking for is "romantic," and then I went on to take some liberties with the way I proposed to define the word. Life went on, things got busy, and I hadn't checked back in to see what else might have come of the conversation -- until today. Today, with a bit of time to spend, I went back to find that some nameless person had taken my suggestion and opined that she didn't think that the BDSM activities that she finds "hot" are romantic. Idiot! Literal fool. Isn't it possible to conceive of a notion of the word, "romantic" that would encompass our kind of relating? Why can we not play at the edges of the alternative sexual realm and still experience something that we might fairly and honestly characterize as "romantic?"
A simple Internet search yields a range of definitions for the word, romantic: consisting of or resembling a romance; having no basis in fact : imaginary; impractical in conception or plan : visionary; responsive to the imaginary appeal of what is idealized, heroic, or adventurous; marked by expressions of love or affection; constituting the part of the hero especially in a light comedy. Clearly, beyond the somewhat narrow understanding of the word, this is a definition that allows for those of us who live and love LARGE; who love with imagination and a sense of adventure; who are even willing to allow for the possibility that sometimes love is a heroic thing -- or a comedy.
In terms of the etymology of the word, the sense of "love" that we associate with the idea of romance comes from the middle ages, when Latin was the language of the intellectuals but the languages of the people -- i.e., the Romance languages -- were the vulgar languages in which love stories were written.
swan
8/20/2010
Polyamory Observations #18
Some people, when they are new to polyamory, wonder about the various configurations of poly relating. It is a complicated question to answer because there are lots and lots of relationship forms that show up once people begin to explore the possibility of relating outside of the Noah's arc model of two by two. Throw away the idea that romantic love is constrained to pairs, and suddenly there is a vast array of alternatives -- fours, fives, moresomes, webs, clans, tribes, whatevers. Like so many other labels, used in other contexts, the labels that people use to describe these "more than" two relationships, give bits of informations, but fall far short of telling the whole story. To know that some set of people identify as a poly triad, or a poly vee really doesn't give you a full understanding of who relates to who, or how they relate along the various lines of contact inside the dynamic.
We have, variously, described our particular version of polyamory as a "poly triad," or a "poly vee (V)." Both constitute fairly commonly used geometrically-based descriptors for relationships that involve three partners rather than the traditional couple. While we tend to use the terms interchangeably, there is an understood difference in what is implied by triad as opposed to vee.
A triad is a triangle where each of the partners is equally in love and involved with the other two. Vee's are relationships where two partners relate to the third partner -- at the "hinge," but not necessarily directly to one another.
Our family doesn't exactly match either of those models. Surprise, surprise!
We are, absolutely, all "in love" with one another, and we surely are completely involved with one another. However, we are all heterosexual, and T and I are not sexual with one another. So, our triad/triangle keeps us all engaged with one another -- even if the only time we all pile into bed together is if Himself is in the middle getting petted and pampered by both T and I. That works for us, but I know there are some who would say the lack of "sexual" love between T and I makes it "not poly."
We also operate, in some ways, like a vee. There is very little doubt that she and I both relate to Master, and in some ways, He really does provide that "hinge" point with the two of us out at the ends of the metaphorical V. But it isn't as simple as that. There are times when either T or I assume the hinge role, occupying the space in the center of the family, and serving in the role of conduit between the other two. So our vee shifts depending on the circumstances. In our case, the "hinge" is not simply or only a point where sexual contact may occur. The hinge person is relating intensively in two directions at essentially the same time. What the nature of that intensive relatedness is varies. It might be a negotiation role, or a mediation role, or an advocacy role, or a role that entails education of one partner about the other.
Maybe, for those rare few who do it like we do it, the more accurate descriptor would be "shifting vee."
swan
A triad is a triangle where each of the partners is equally in love and involved with the other two. Vee's are relationships where two partners relate to the third partner -- at the "hinge," but not necessarily directly to one another.
Our family doesn't exactly match either of those models. Surprise, surprise!
We are, absolutely, all "in love" with one another, and we surely are completely involved with one another. However, we are all heterosexual, and T and I are not sexual with one another. So, our triad/triangle keeps us all engaged with one another -- even if the only time we all pile into bed together is if Himself is in the middle getting petted and pampered by both T and I. That works for us, but I know there are some who would say the lack of "sexual" love between T and I makes it "not poly."
We also operate, in some ways, like a vee. There is very little doubt that she and I both relate to Master, and in some ways, He really does provide that "hinge" point with the two of us out at the ends of the metaphorical V. But it isn't as simple as that. There are times when either T or I assume the hinge role, occupying the space in the center of the family, and serving in the role of conduit between the other two. So our vee shifts depending on the circumstances. In our case, the "hinge" is not simply or only a point where sexual contact may occur. The hinge person is relating intensively in two directions at essentially the same time. What the nature of that intensive relatedness is varies. It might be a negotiation role, or a mediation role, or an advocacy role, or a role that entails education of one partner about the other.
Maybe, for those rare few who do it like we do it, the more accurate descriptor would be "shifting vee."
swan
8/18/2010
A Conundrum
Master is feeling switchy these days, and not simply in an erotic and exploratory sense. He is flirting with the notion of entering into some fairly serious disciplinary and submissive SM activity with me as the Dominant/Top partner. It isn't entirely new territory for us. As long as we've known each other, our family has, at least nominally, subscribed to a power exchange model that we've called bDDsm. For us, that acronym denotes a relational dynamic that includes the potential for "domestic discipline" to be included within the overarching BDSM practice that forms the foundation for our lives together. Each member of our family is empowered to require accountability for behavior and choices from every other member of the household, and to implement disciplinary consequences if called for. It is something that has been invoked over the years, although very rarely.
I know that the whole concept of switching is a touchy one within the BDSM community. There are those who simply do not understand how anyone can move from submissive to Dominant or from sadist to masochist. Some view the whole business with disdain, while others just dismiss it as some sort of "game" or pretend/play acting. A similar response can be found in the gay and lesbian subculture with regard to the idea that someone might be bisexual. So, even talking about switching feels a bit risky, but it is a growing factor in our current dynamic, and looks to be here to stay for the foreseeable future.
I am finding that navigating the depths and shoals of this recently re-invigorated switching dynamic is proving challenging both emotionally and intellectually.
I can play the role of service Top for Master, and that feels just fine. I'm more than competent with most of the implements in our collection, and I can read His reactions and responses with ease. I can create a bottoming experience that is utterly safe and erotically stimulating for Him. For me, that sort of play feels entirely congruent with our dynamic -- I am serving Him when I play with Him in that capacity.
Too, I have no doubts at all about the FACT of His Dominance or the FACT of His sadism. His occasional desire to experience the other side of the power exchange dynamic, or the other end of the sadomasochistic spectrum does not diminish or change the reality that He is, by His very nature, a Dominant and a sadist. He has Dominant toes, and Dominant chest hairs, and at least one Dominant knee (I'm not as sure about the titanium one). He is utterly, naturally, implacably Dominant. Likewise, He does take great pleasure in spanking women, and He is happiest when that sort of play veers into the intense and extreme ranges. He is what He is.
Every now and then, however, it is as if some sort of season comes over Him. He hasn't bee interested in bottoming for years, but now, He is in a more or less continual frenzy of wheedling and manipulating and conniving to get spanked. He is eroticizing spanking as He has not done for years and years. It is an interesting and rewarding adjunct to our play with one another, and one that we both enjoy. We seem to be well into switching season -- for how long is anyone's guess.
What is notably different this time around is that He is working His way through thinking about entering into a disciplinary dynamic with me as a path to achieving some health and behavioral changes. That is new territory for us, and honestly, it scares me. Disciplinary spanking and erotic SM play are not at all the same thing. For spanking to be effective in creating behavior change, it has to be seriously aversive. I know that to create the sort of behavioral change He's thinking about, I'd have to get pretty Draconian with Him, and that gives me pause.
He would have to trust me to judge wisely; to hurt Him without harming Him; to guide Him through the process -- even when He reacts angrily or feels that it is all unfair. Conversely, I will need to trust Him to keep the fact that I am acting in that disciplinary capacity separated from His feelings about me AS HIS SLAVE. I do not want to believe that there is some sort of retaliatory component entering into our play. I think that would break my heart.
I know there are lots of people who will question if doing this sort of thing negates the M/s dynamic between us. I am sure there will be people who will not be able to understand how we can move back and forth across these boundaries. It surely does not fit the "usual" template for these kinds of relationships. I don't care. We've never done this in the "usual" way. If we can come to a place where we really trust each other in this, then I think we will break new ground and explore new territory. I think we are working our way along just now; each of us dealing with our own fears and doubts. Knowing what we know about how our love works, I am sure we'll figure it out, and I believe we'll find a way to make it work for us both.
swan
I know that the whole concept of switching is a touchy one within the BDSM community. There are those who simply do not understand how anyone can move from submissive to Dominant or from sadist to masochist. Some view the whole business with disdain, while others just dismiss it as some sort of "game" or pretend/play acting. A similar response can be found in the gay and lesbian subculture with regard to the idea that someone might be bisexual. So, even talking about switching feels a bit risky, but it is a growing factor in our current dynamic, and looks to be here to stay for the foreseeable future.
I am finding that navigating the depths and shoals of this recently re-invigorated switching dynamic is proving challenging both emotionally and intellectually.
I can play the role of service Top for Master, and that feels just fine. I'm more than competent with most of the implements in our collection, and I can read His reactions and responses with ease. I can create a bottoming experience that is utterly safe and erotically stimulating for Him. For me, that sort of play feels entirely congruent with our dynamic -- I am serving Him when I play with Him in that capacity.
Too, I have no doubts at all about the FACT of His Dominance or the FACT of His sadism. His occasional desire to experience the other side of the power exchange dynamic, or the other end of the sadomasochistic spectrum does not diminish or change the reality that He is, by His very nature, a Dominant and a sadist. He has Dominant toes, and Dominant chest hairs, and at least one Dominant knee (I'm not as sure about the titanium one). He is utterly, naturally, implacably Dominant. Likewise, He does take great pleasure in spanking women, and He is happiest when that sort of play veers into the intense and extreme ranges. He is what He is.
Every now and then, however, it is as if some sort of season comes over Him. He hasn't bee interested in bottoming for years, but now, He is in a more or less continual frenzy of wheedling and manipulating and conniving to get spanked. He is eroticizing spanking as He has not done for years and years. It is an interesting and rewarding adjunct to our play with one another, and one that we both enjoy. We seem to be well into switching season -- for how long is anyone's guess.
What is notably different this time around is that He is working His way through thinking about entering into a disciplinary dynamic with me as a path to achieving some health and behavioral changes. That is new territory for us, and honestly, it scares me. Disciplinary spanking and erotic SM play are not at all the same thing. For spanking to be effective in creating behavior change, it has to be seriously aversive. I know that to create the sort of behavioral change He's thinking about, I'd have to get pretty Draconian with Him, and that gives me pause.
He would have to trust me to judge wisely; to hurt Him without harming Him; to guide Him through the process -- even when He reacts angrily or feels that it is all unfair. Conversely, I will need to trust Him to keep the fact that I am acting in that disciplinary capacity separated from His feelings about me AS HIS SLAVE. I do not want to believe that there is some sort of retaliatory component entering into our play. I think that would break my heart.
I know there are lots of people who will question if doing this sort of thing negates the M/s dynamic between us. I am sure there will be people who will not be able to understand how we can move back and forth across these boundaries. It surely does not fit the "usual" template for these kinds of relationships. I don't care. We've never done this in the "usual" way. If we can come to a place where we really trust each other in this, then I think we will break new ground and explore new territory. I think we are working our way along just now; each of us dealing with our own fears and doubts. Knowing what we know about how our love works, I am sure we'll figure it out, and I believe we'll find a way to make it work for us both.
swan
8/17/2010
Worry, Worry, Worry
The new school year begins one week from today. There'll be 40 new 11-year-old students arriving promptly at 8AM, and I'll be launched, along with them, into a new year with all of its promise and all of its challenges.
There's just one problem with all of that. It isn't what you think. I am not dreading the return to the classroom. I am feeling ready and eager to see my kids from last year, and to meet these new, young ones who will be mine for the next space of months.
It is just that... my classroom has been undergoing a major renovation through the course of this summer. Before I left last spring, I packed every single bit of everything in my room, leaving it all in boxes stacked in the hallway outside the door. Piled to the ceiling -- nearly.
That remodel is not finished. There is new carpet and new paint. New light fixtures and ceiling fans were being installed today. The wiring for computers and the Smart board are all in place. The old, less than functional closets have been torn out, and the space prepared for new, kitchen style cabinetry. Those cabinets are on site, along with the library book shelves that I asked for. None of that is done yet. Most of that will not be done until the end of this week. I have been told that I can get into the room and start moving things back in on Saturday morning.
Three days. Three days to move everything in and unpack it all and put it all away. Nevermind bulletin boards and the sort of bright and charming silly touches that say "Welcome" to new students arriving full of wonder and anticipation on the first day of school.
I admit it. I am a control freak. When it comes to my teaching, I am absolutely linear and driven. I also know that the first day of school is my BEST day in terms of organization. What doesn't get done by that day, may, quite possibly not get done. Or, at the very least, not get done well.
I am worried. Quietly worried. Trying to put the best face on the chaos, but inside I am feeling panicked and out of control and agitated.
Worry, worry, worry, worry! I'm exhausted already.
swan
There's just one problem with all of that. It isn't what you think. I am not dreading the return to the classroom. I am feeling ready and eager to see my kids from last year, and to meet these new, young ones who will be mine for the next space of months.
It is just that... my classroom has been undergoing a major renovation through the course of this summer. Before I left last spring, I packed every single bit of everything in my room, leaving it all in boxes stacked in the hallway outside the door. Piled to the ceiling -- nearly.
That remodel is not finished. There is new carpet and new paint. New light fixtures and ceiling fans were being installed today. The wiring for computers and the Smart board are all in place. The old, less than functional closets have been torn out, and the space prepared for new, kitchen style cabinetry. Those cabinets are on site, along with the library book shelves that I asked for. None of that is done yet. Most of that will not be done until the end of this week. I have been told that I can get into the room and start moving things back in on Saturday morning.
SATURDAY MORNING!!!
Three days. Three days to move everything in and unpack it all and put it all away. Nevermind bulletin boards and the sort of bright and charming silly touches that say "Welcome" to new students arriving full of wonder and anticipation on the first day of school.
I am worried. Quietly worried. Trying to put the best face on the chaos, but inside I am feeling panicked and out of control and agitated.
Worry, worry, worry, worry! I'm exhausted already.
swan
8/16/2010
Age = Useless?
I've been contemplating a discussion that started a couple of days ago on Fetlife. Here's the shortened version of the original post --
How old is too old for a gal to go look for an M/s relationship? ... what do masters do with the old slaves when they aren't useful and attractive to you anymore ... in the end isn't the older slave just going to be dumped for a younger, "better" gal within time? ... there are soooo many hotties ... and they are ... so much more useful and slavey than the older gals?
It is my belief that this was, at least in part, posed in these terms with a deliberately sardonic twist. I'm convinced that the original poster intended to point out the silliness of assuming that, as we age, we become unsuited for the practice of consensual slavery. However, even as I acknolwedge all of that, I am feeling a bit driven to stick my chin out and say, "Hey! Wait just one minute... Old doesn't equal useless -- far from it!"
There surely are would be dominants and wannabe masters who believe that the purpose of a slave is to provide what my old friend Gabriel Montana (yes, I still miss Him and kaylem) referred to as "blow jobs and butt sex." Under that line of reasoning, the slave usefulness quotient isn't a whole lot different than that obtained from a minimally functional whore. In fact, it seems to me that there is a whole lot less risk and effort entailed in hiring yourself a blow job than trying to take on a full time power exchange relationship in order to get that taken care of.
The fact of the matter is that women who identify as slaves, and live in that reality, are "useful" to their Masters in a whole bevy of ways -- only some of them related to sex (although there are plenty of erotically and sexually useful things that slaves provide too):
So. I'm not sure how old is too old. Maybe, someday, when I'm using a wheelchair for mobility, keeping my teeth in a glass in the bathroom, unable to hear or see Him, I'll be less useful. Probably that's the inevitable end of this whole story. Probably then, we'll both need the help and assistance of some sweet young thing -- she or he will turn us over in bed, and change our diapers and spoon our pureed dinners into our senile old mouths. Eventually, if we live long enough, I imagine the fires that currently drive our sexual relating will die down. I hope we'll never lose the urge and ability to reach out to one another and cuddle. Maybe what qualifies as "useful" depends on what it is that one has use for? However it turns out, I believe that I've gotten hold of the sort of Man who would never dump me for a younger, "better" gal. He tells me that I am His -- always and all ways. This I believe.
swan
How old is too old for a gal to go look for an M/s relationship? ... what do masters do with the old slaves when they aren't useful and attractive to you anymore ... in the end isn't the older slave just going to be dumped for a younger, "better" gal within time? ... there are soooo many hotties ... and they are ... so much more useful and slavey than the older gals?
It is my belief that this was, at least in part, posed in these terms with a deliberately sardonic twist. I'm convinced that the original poster intended to point out the silliness of assuming that, as we age, we become unsuited for the practice of consensual slavery. However, even as I acknolwedge all of that, I am feeling a bit driven to stick my chin out and say, "Hey! Wait just one minute... Old doesn't equal useless -- far from it!"
There surely are would be dominants and wannabe masters who believe that the purpose of a slave is to provide what my old friend Gabriel Montana (yes, I still miss Him and kaylem) referred to as "blow jobs and butt sex." Under that line of reasoning, the slave usefulness quotient isn't a whole lot different than that obtained from a minimally functional whore. In fact, it seems to me that there is a whole lot less risk and effort entailed in hiring yourself a blow job than trying to take on a full time power exchange relationship in order to get that taken care of.
The fact of the matter is that women who identify as slaves, and live in that reality, are "useful" to their Masters in a whole bevy of ways -- only some of them related to sex (although there are plenty of erotically and sexually useful things that slaves provide too):
- they often earn an income and contribute to the financial viability of their households
- they clean and maintain the house -- creating an hospitable and comfortable living environment
- they provide nutritious and healthy meals, and they do the things that support the healty and well-being of the Dominant
- they tend to details like laundry and yard maintenance and the upkeep of cars and appliances
- they raise children; attending to their education and social development
- they entertain friends, family, colleagues -- acting as the social liason for the household
- they support, encourage, cheer, and in other ways empower the Dominant partner to act with energy and conviction in the outside world
- they offer focus and attentiveness -- responding to dozens of unspoken and often unrecognized needs and desires day after day
- they listen carefully and converse intelligently
- they demonstrate a gracefulness and wisdom and integrity that enhances the life of the one they serve
swan
8/15/2010
Where Did the Anger Go?
Mouse wrote an interesting piece about being angry with her Master. I think her story is one that almost any of us might be able to tell -- a series of small irritations that built up to a sense of being seriously angry; and the tipping point at which any one of us might explode and say and do things that we'd later regret.
She didn't do that. She made Him a martini and took it and served it to Him -- and life went on and all was well.
And.
All I can do is wonder where her anger went. As someone who has, more than once, blown my top and made a total mess of my life and my relationships, I just wonder how, exactly, she managed to sidestep the point where everything might have burst into flames. Assuming that the anger was real, and I have no reason to believe it wasn't every bit as real as the emotion that sometimes washes over me, or you, or any one of us -- Dominant or submissive.
Scientists, who study the human brain, have learned that when we are awash in angry feelings there are real physiological events occuring. Different regions of the brain "light up" depending on what is going on with us, and anger sends us into the lower and older regions of our brains where we tend to respond almost instinctively with "fight, flight, or freeze" just as our reptilian forebears might have done.
I'll match up my capacity for submission and service with just about anyone, and I absolutely know for a fact that when I am seriously angry, I might continue to serve and submit -- but the murderous murmering isn't quieted in the serving of a glass of Jack Daniels and water on the rocks. No way.
I have learned, from years of experience, that I don't have to lash out in my anger. I've learned to (sometimes) stay quiet and not explode. I've figured out ways to move to de-escalate the situation rather than escalate. Still, I will need, in each of those moves, to find ways to deal with my anger -- releasing it, choosing to let it go, sticking it in some safe place within my psyche, channeling it into something productive, finding it a quiet place to let it sit and simmer down...
Submissives do get angry. Dominants do get angry. In relationship with one another, we have to learn to manage the strong emotions. Sometimes the patterns and routines that we establish can aid us in that endeavor. I think that is the short version of this episode between mouse and her Master. Patterns are a great thing sometimes. Knowing that conflict is a natural part of intimate relating, perhaps we, doing this thing we do, have learned some tricks for navigating the rough waters. If that were true, we might have things to teach our vanilla brothers and sisters.
swan
She didn't do that. She made Him a martini and took it and served it to Him -- and life went on and all was well.
And.
Scientists, who study the human brain, have learned that when we are awash in angry feelings there are real physiological events occuring. Different regions of the brain "light up" depending on what is going on with us, and anger sends us into the lower and older regions of our brains where we tend to respond almost instinctively with "fight, flight, or freeze" just as our reptilian forebears might have done.
I'll match up my capacity for submission and service with just about anyone, and I absolutely know for a fact that when I am seriously angry, I might continue to serve and submit -- but the murderous murmering isn't quieted in the serving of a glass of Jack Daniels and water on the rocks. No way.
I have learned, from years of experience, that I don't have to lash out in my anger. I've learned to (sometimes) stay quiet and not explode. I've figured out ways to move to de-escalate the situation rather than escalate. Still, I will need, in each of those moves, to find ways to deal with my anger -- releasing it, choosing to let it go, sticking it in some safe place within my psyche, channeling it into something productive, finding it a quiet place to let it sit and simmer down...
Submissives do get angry. Dominants do get angry. In relationship with one another, we have to learn to manage the strong emotions. Sometimes the patterns and routines that we establish can aid us in that endeavor. I think that is the short version of this episode between mouse and her Master. Patterns are a great thing sometimes. Knowing that conflict is a natural part of intimate relating, perhaps we, doing this thing we do, have learned some tricks for navigating the rough waters. If that were true, we might have things to teach our vanilla brothers and sisters.
swan
8/13/2010
They are almost HOME!
Woo Hoo!! I am doing the happy-dance with the kittie-faces! Tom and Sue are about 90 minutes away! I am so excited that I can hardly stand it.
I just got home from having dinner with my Mom, so I can be home all weekend with the famdamily and the cats are crazy! I am SURE they know this is the day we will all be together again. Callie is running races around the flogging frame-coffee table on Sue's side and Pranzer is doing this hoppy-shuffle thing he does when he is all excited about something. Even I could entertain a cat rodeo, as excited as I am to have them home! How is a girl to watch baseball and keep it all straight with all of the shenanigans a-going on?
Soon.....very soon....hugs and smooching all around. It has been a LONG-ASSED week....I cannot wait to hug their parts!
Happy-dancing T
I just got home from having dinner with my Mom, so I can be home all weekend with the famdamily and the cats are crazy! I am SURE they know this is the day we will all be together again. Callie is running races around the flogging frame-coffee table on Sue's side and Pranzer is doing this hoppy-shuffle thing he does when he is all excited about something. Even I could entertain a cat rodeo, as excited as I am to have them home! How is a girl to watch baseball and keep it all straight with all of the shenanigans a-going on?
Soon.....very soon....hugs and smooching all around. It has been a LONG-ASSED week....I cannot wait to hug their parts!
Happy-dancing T
8/11/2010
Say Good Morning?
By the time they had me ready to go into surgery, I was pretty well doped out on morphine, and would have consented to just about anything if someone would make the pain stop. I remember very little immediately prior to the surgery but I do remember the old, grizzled, bearded anesthesiologist dragging Doogie by the hand to my bedside; admonishing him, "It is impolite to go into surgery without at least saying hello and introducing yourself!" And so I met my surgeon... It was reminiscent of the lyrics from the Disney version of Alice in Wonderland:
How d'ye do and shake hands
Shake hands, shake hands
How d'ye do and shake hands
State your name and business!
We had occasion to have the "say how do you do and shake hands" conversation recently. Being together as long as we have been means that there are things that become habit -- patterns that get established. Patterns and habits can be a very good thing in a relationship. They make it easier to go through the days and nights without having to contemplate every single move that we make. On the other hand, some habits can creep along creating their own sets of challenges. I think that one of the tasks facing people in long-term relationships is to notice when that has occured and find positive and affirming ways to fix the problem.
One of our patterns has come to revolve around what we jokingly refer to as the "alarm cock." It is our continuing delight that, as we've gotten older, we are still awakened on most mornings by His definitive and insistent morning hard on. Hooray! Trust me, this is NOT a thing to be taken for granted. And so, it has become our habit to wake up, cuddle and mumble sleepy good mornings, and then praise the arrival of a new day with a good old fashioned fuck. All good. It is a great and life affirming way to start the day.
Somewhere along the way, though, in the last bit of time, He began to skip the cuddle and mumble part of the whole business. It isn't a HUGE issue. Masters do not have to observe the niceties of these things. Still, without that drowsy inquiry as to the state of my existence, I found I was "missing" Him. Just that silly little "Hi, how are you?" felt important in my morning -- way more important than I would have imagined.
And so I reminded Him, gently, of our friend Doogie Howser, and the social importance of at least saying "hello." We giggled together at the comparison; wondered where Doogie might be these days; and adjusted our pattern just a bit. So, now, once again, I am awakened by the insistent poking of the alarm cock, AND a sleepy Master voice saying, "Hi. Wanna fuck?"
swan
8/10/2010
They Arrived!
Tom and Sue have arrived safely in Denver. They got there last night, but I was too busy relaying baseball statistics to blog about it. They slept in, had their normal breakfasts and took their normal walk....with a view of Sue's beloved mountains. The temperature is cool for a Denver summer. Tom is bemoaning that he only took 1 pair of long pants.
When I get up in the morning and do my normal stuffs, I go next door and feed Callie. She greets me at the door, staring at her kitty watch, tapping her kitty tootsies in STEEL TOED ARMY BOOTS! How such a small little thing can make so much noise is beyond me. She leads me to the kitchen and shows me the pantry.....just in case I forgot where her food is kept, yanno. Once she is fed, I am crap on a biscuit again...not worthy of her attentions.
I am working every day. They left me cute cards, one for each day they are gone.
I miss them, but am very glad that they made the trip. Sue needs to squeeze the baby and get eyes on her kids.
T
When I get up in the morning and do my normal stuffs, I go next door and feed Callie. She greets me at the door, staring at her kitty watch, tapping her kitty tootsies in STEEL TOED ARMY BOOTS! How such a small little thing can make so much noise is beyond me. She leads me to the kitchen and shows me the pantry.....just in case I forgot where her food is kept, yanno. Once she is fed, I am crap on a biscuit again...not worthy of her attentions.
I am working every day. They left me cute cards, one for each day they are gone.
I miss them, but am very glad that they made the trip. Sue needs to squeeze the baby and get eyes on her kids.
T
8/08/2010
A "Would Be" Adventure
Master and I are leaving this morning to drive to Denver -- a visit to my two children and my grandson, who is now just over 14 months old. Our plan is to arrive tomorrow afternoon; visit on Tuesday and Wednesday; and then drive back on Thursday and Friday.
Originally, when we first began to discuss this trip, we planned to turn it into an adventure, and drive the SMART car. For those who do not know much about these little cars, they are just 8 feet-2 inches long -- shorter than a VW Beetle (14 feet) or a Mini Cooper (12 feet). The 2-seat passenger cabin is surprisingly roomy and comfortable. There is a very small luggage space behind the seats, and that is IT. We were figuring we'd have to pack extremely lightly, but that it was doable. Master figured it would be like traveling by motorcycle except that we'd skip the bugs in our teeth.
Unfortunately, eight weeks ago, Master got into a relatively minor accident in the SMART. After the encounter with the fire hydrant at a speed of about 10 miles per hour, the car needed both body and mechanical repairs. That process has become a nightmare of epic proportions. We are discovering that, while SMART sells these vehicles with the pitch that their various snap on panels make repairs quick and easy, the reality is that there are serious supply issues with parts. Our car has been in the shop all of this time and is still not ready. We are aware of at least one other car that was waiting for parts a month before ours was damaged, and remains un-repaired due to a total lack of the needed parts. To say we are frustrated is a serious understatement!
So, we will be driving the much roomier Hyundai Tucson to Denver. We won't have to worry about what we pack or what we take. In some ways, the trip will be easier, and probably more comfortable. It just won't feel like quite such an adventure. Sigh.
swan
Unfortunately, eight weeks ago, Master got into a relatively minor accident in the SMART. After the encounter with the fire hydrant at a speed of about 10 miles per hour, the car needed both body and mechanical repairs. That process has become a nightmare of epic proportions. We are discovering that, while SMART sells these vehicles with the pitch that their various snap on panels make repairs quick and easy, the reality is that there are serious supply issues with parts. Our car has been in the shop all of this time and is still not ready. We are aware of at least one other car that was waiting for parts a month before ours was damaged, and remains un-repaired due to a total lack of the needed parts. To say we are frustrated is a serious understatement!
So, we will be driving the much roomier Hyundai Tucson to Denver. We won't have to worry about what we pack or what we take. In some ways, the trip will be easier, and probably more comfortable. It just won't feel like quite such an adventure. Sigh.
swan
8/07/2010
Feeling Sexy
We haven't been spanking much lately. Maybe you've noticed? Yeah.
Yesterday, though, in the middle of the afternoon, He suggested that we would play, and He told me that He just wasn't sure whether He should spank me on the bench -- or over His knee.
I told Him that I thought the most important consideration was what would be easiest on His shoulder. There are just some angles and motions that are too difficult and too painful for Him as the arthritis in His right shoulder has gotten steadily worse.
He talked about the fact that, in some ways, the bench is really good -- and He told me that He can't really use floggers when I am OTK.
"I really don't think we ought to flog." I told Him. "It is just too hard on your shoulder. I love it, but it isn't a reasonable thing for You to be doing at this point."
Once we had that resolved, He decided that He was really in the mood for some over the knee style play, and so He wandered off to round up a suitable array of toys and knives. I got myself settled over His lap, and He played with a variety of straps and paddles -- mixing in lots of stroking with knife blades, and some really delicious hand spanking. It has been awhile since we played like this, and I found myself enjoying it, reveling in the various levels of sensation -- even appreciating the sounds and rhythmic slapping noises. Somewhere, fairly early on, I found myself at the point where I realized I could "slip through a door" in my mind and drift away. That isn't the way I have experienced the entry into subspace previously, but today it seemed so simple, and so I let myself go through the opening and off into happy space.
Recognizing my state of contentment and relative ease, He had Himself a little sadistic party -- whomping away on my upraised backside until, I suspect, He wore Himself out. When He tapped me on the shoulder with the paddle -- our usual signal that it is time to end things -- I couldn't immediately remember what response I was supposed to make. Surprising, as I've repeated that required, "Thank You for my spanking, Sir" more times than I can count over the years. At first, I babbled a loopy sounding "I love You, Sir," and I heard Him chuckle. That simple sound brought me back in just enough, and I quickly added the expected thanks.
Once I had recovered a bit, and was feeling more back in my own mind and body, He broached the subject of me spanking Him, basically repeating the same session with our roles reversed. It is a topic He's been dancing around for awhile now. Wanting to be spanked, but then uncertain about it. I've been reluctant to enter into that sort of play without a clear sense that He was really "into it." We used to switch pretty routinely. It was, in those days, a mutual sort of give and take that we both enjoyed. And then, He seemed to lose His taste for the bottom role.
I am not sure what has brought Him back around to feeling "switchy." Neither is He. Whatever it is, it was fun to assume the role of Top for awhile this afternoon. I wasn't sure exactly what He had done with me. I'd been off in LA LA LAND for a good part of my own session. However, the toys He'd used were all still lying there in a pile, and so it wasn't difficult to orchestrate some sort of reasonable approximation of what He'd done. I do, after all, know what He usually will do with a stack of toys. The fact is that, in some ways, I know His toys better than He does. So, I strapped, and paddled, and scratched with a variety of knives, and worked a rapid fire drumbeat on His ass with my hands. He squirmed and wiggled -- and thoroughly enjoyed the whole business.
And -- when I was done with Him, He talked T into taking over. Really!
I left them to it, and went and took a shower. Once I was dressed, I took off in the car to go pick up some prescriptions and try and get a haircut (an unsuccessful endeavor). It was a lovely afternoon, and I found myself smiling and bouncing along as I ran my various errands. People seemed much more friendly and more responsive, for some reason. I got lots of smiles and lots of pleasant greetings. It might be that this was just one of those days when I randomly encountered the happy and open part of the local populace, but I believe that there is a difference in me when He and I connect sadomasochistically -- and it goes satisfactorilly for us both. It leaves me feeling whole and calm and, yes -- sexy. I think that's what people were responding to this afternoon. It was a great feeling, and I am hopeful that there'll be many more chances for experiencing life through that lens.
swan
Yesterday, though, in the middle of the afternoon, He suggested that we would play, and He told me that He just wasn't sure whether He should spank me on the bench -- or over His knee.
I told Him that I thought the most important consideration was what would be easiest on His shoulder. There are just some angles and motions that are too difficult and too painful for Him as the arthritis in His right shoulder has gotten steadily worse.
He talked about the fact that, in some ways, the bench is really good -- and He told me that He can't really use floggers when I am OTK.
"I really don't think we ought to flog." I told Him. "It is just too hard on your shoulder. I love it, but it isn't a reasonable thing for You to be doing at this point."
Once we had that resolved, He decided that He was really in the mood for some over the knee style play, and so He wandered off to round up a suitable array of toys and knives. I got myself settled over His lap, and He played with a variety of straps and paddles -- mixing in lots of stroking with knife blades, and some really delicious hand spanking. It has been awhile since we played like this, and I found myself enjoying it, reveling in the various levels of sensation -- even appreciating the sounds and rhythmic slapping noises. Somewhere, fairly early on, I found myself at the point where I realized I could "slip through a door" in my mind and drift away. That isn't the way I have experienced the entry into subspace previously, but today it seemed so simple, and so I let myself go through the opening and off into happy space.
Recognizing my state of contentment and relative ease, He had Himself a little sadistic party -- whomping away on my upraised backside until, I suspect, He wore Himself out. When He tapped me on the shoulder with the paddle -- our usual signal that it is time to end things -- I couldn't immediately remember what response I was supposed to make. Surprising, as I've repeated that required, "Thank You for my spanking, Sir" more times than I can count over the years. At first, I babbled a loopy sounding "I love You, Sir," and I heard Him chuckle. That simple sound brought me back in just enough, and I quickly added the expected thanks.
Once I had recovered a bit, and was feeling more back in my own mind and body, He broached the subject of me spanking Him, basically repeating the same session with our roles reversed. It is a topic He's been dancing around for awhile now. Wanting to be spanked, but then uncertain about it. I've been reluctant to enter into that sort of play without a clear sense that He was really "into it." We used to switch pretty routinely. It was, in those days, a mutual sort of give and take that we both enjoyed. And then, He seemed to lose His taste for the bottom role.
I am not sure what has brought Him back around to feeling "switchy." Neither is He. Whatever it is, it was fun to assume the role of Top for awhile this afternoon. I wasn't sure exactly what He had done with me. I'd been off in LA LA LAND for a good part of my own session. However, the toys He'd used were all still lying there in a pile, and so it wasn't difficult to orchestrate some sort of reasonable approximation of what He'd done. I do, after all, know what He usually will do with a stack of toys. The fact is that, in some ways, I know His toys better than He does. So, I strapped, and paddled, and scratched with a variety of knives, and worked a rapid fire drumbeat on His ass with my hands. He squirmed and wiggled -- and thoroughly enjoyed the whole business.
And -- when I was done with Him, He talked T into taking over. Really!
I left them to it, and went and took a shower. Once I was dressed, I took off in the car to go pick up some prescriptions and try and get a haircut (an unsuccessful endeavor). It was a lovely afternoon, and I found myself smiling and bouncing along as I ran my various errands. People seemed much more friendly and more responsive, for some reason. I got lots of smiles and lots of pleasant greetings. It might be that this was just one of those days when I randomly encountered the happy and open part of the local populace, but I believe that there is a difference in me when He and I connect sadomasochistically -- and it goes satisfactorilly for us both. It leaves me feeling whole and calm and, yes -- sexy. I think that's what people were responding to this afternoon. It was a great feeling, and I am hopeful that there'll be many more chances for experiencing life through that lens.
swan
8/06/2010
Hormone Replacement Therapy
If the subject of hormone replacement therapy (HRT) comes up in conversation these days, most of us will assume that we are talking about women going through "the change." It has become commonplace to talk about supplementing the naturally decreasing levels of hormones in mature women -- attempting to mitigate the effects of aging and the onset of menopause. I undertook a course of intensive hormone replacement therapy following my hysterectomy. It was intended to address the issues that I encountered with libido and sexual functioning, included supplemental estrogen and testosterone, and was carefully monitored by my physician. Ultimately, I had to discontinue the treatments because they caused a serious and debilitating upswing in the frequency of my migraine headaches.
Less frequently talked about, is male hormone replacement therapy. As men age, it is common for their hormone levels to decrease, and so beginning around the age of 35, many men experience hypogonadism. As long as I have known Him, Master has used HRT to bolster His testosterone levels. It was as much a part of His daily routine as brushing His teeth, or taking His pills. He used a gel product, rubbing it on His backside after His morning shower.
Then, He lost 160 pounds over a period of about eight months. Life got busy and pretty intense, and the usual monitoring that would normally be done by His physician fell by the wayside. We recently made a change in our primary care doctor, and this new fellow is careful and thorough. He ran a panel for free and total testosterone, and discovered that the levels of that hormone in Master's blood stream were way elevated -- above the level where the test even measures! Suddenly, we had an explanation for His volatile moods, His unexplainable anger, His fits of depression. The doctor had Him discontinue the supplement, and over a period of about three weeks, the levels of testosterone in His bloodstream dropped off -- until they once again fell into the seriously "too low" range. He experienced all of the symptoms that might be expected with a lack of the primary male sex hormone. It has played havoc with our sadomasochistic play -- He has almost no interest in spanking, and not much more in plain old vanilla sex.
In the last few weeks, He has started back onto the HRT, applying it in a carefully controlled fashion. In just the last few days, He has been feeling back on His game again. He is once again waking up with the morning hardon that we'd become accustomed to before. His interest in spanking is reviving. His interest in GETTING SPANKED is (unexplainably) returning as well. Yesterday, He had blood work done to determine whether the hormone levels are in the acceptable range. We're keeping our fingers crossed.
In the meantime, here's a bit of testosterone poetry...
swan
Less frequently talked about, is male hormone replacement therapy. As men age, it is common for their hormone levels to decrease, and so beginning around the age of 35, many men experience hypogonadism. As long as I have known Him, Master has used HRT to bolster His testosterone levels. It was as much a part of His daily routine as brushing His teeth, or taking His pills. He used a gel product, rubbing it on His backside after His morning shower.
In the last few weeks, He has started back onto the HRT, applying it in a carefully controlled fashion. In just the last few days, He has been feeling back on His game again. He is once again waking up with the morning hardon that we'd become accustomed to before. His interest in spanking is reviving. His interest in GETTING SPANKED is (unexplainably) returning as well. Yesterday, He had blood work done to determine whether the hormone levels are in the acceptable range. We're keeping our fingers crossed.
In the meantime, here's a bit of testosterone poetry...
swan
To You, Testosterone!
Testosterone! I am a Man,
I raise a gilded chalice to Your Name
Oh Driver of My Destiny!
Inflator of My Ego!
For you I will rape and pillage,
In your name will I subjugate my enemies
Be it on the battlefield or in the boardroom,
On the playing field or in a lover’s bed.
I will be supreme!
You raised me from a suckling babe
And taught me how to rant and rave
For other kiddies’ toys.
And in your name I do it still,
Yeh, even though I be old and grey,
I do it still.
Yet be not fooled
By my acquiescence to your will.
It is out of weakness that I obey you.
For I know within my heart of hearts
That you care not for me.
“Survival of the Fittest”
That is the motto inscribed upon your crest.
And in my most private soul,
Within the tender petals that me enfold
Still dwells that little boy,
So vulnerable, so shy,
Who would caress with gentle touch
And be caressed in turn.
But You, oh mighty mover of my biochemistry,
Have strengthened the fortress walls of my being.
Only the obstinate few can pass over the drawbridge
To the inner keep.
And I too am locked within,
Unable to communicate to those who sit and wait outside
And oft must turn away.
And when you are done with me
Will you cast me aside like a used condom?
Will I with soft regret and tearful eye
Review my subservience to your will?
When I am old and toothless will I serve you still
Even though I have no bite?
Will my pride still be fed by you?
Or will your hold on me thin
As surely as the thinning hairs on my balding head?
Will the words “I’m sorry, I was wrong” break through?
Even now, they almost do …
8/05/2010
Brother
Tonight we are home alone -- just us. There is no company scheduled to arrive anytime soon.
My brother left this morning, boarding a plane back to his home in Dallas after spending the last 4 days with our family.
It was an interesting visit.
H is younger than I am by 16 months. He was born three months premature in 1956, weighing just 2 lbs., 6 ozs. His birth precipitated the first significant emotional trauma of my life, as my parents, overwhelmed by the arrival of their very sick and very tiny little son dropped me off with neighbors -- and left me there for a good part of the next six months.
H survived, and so did I. We grew, inside our very difficult family, into fast friends and loyal companions. Over the years, we shared an awful lot, and we always had each others' backs. I played his protector through our growing up years, and he spent hours and hours listening to my wild-eyed dreams, grounding me with his stolid, steady, stable German temperament. We were a pair, even after the birth of two more younger brothers. The expansion of our family never shook the bond that held H and I in a tight orbit around each other.
Even after he moved to Dallas, we stayed in touch, keeping each other close across the miles.
When I moved away, embarking on my new life here, H was shocked, confused, unsettled. He tried to not judge, but my choices flew in the face of everything he understood and believed about relationships and family. My mother (The Princess Pat) was more than willing to wind him up into her ravings on the subject, and H and I grew apart into a strained and pained estrangement. We never actually broke off our contact with one another, but the time lengthened between phone calls, and we struggled to know what to say to each other.
Every now and then, H would talk, vaguely, about coming to visit me here, but it never actually came to pass. Some of that was related to economic realities, but a good part of it was due to his ambivalence -- serious approach avoidance. It made me sad, but there wasn't a lot I could do or say.
Then. A few months ago, he started talking in earnest about coming to visit. Really! And, he finally made it happen, arriving last Sunday afternoon. Looking forward to his visit, I was excited, but also worried. It has been nine years since H and I were together. How, I wondered, would he be? With me? With Master and T? With us as a family? He knows a bit about our poly lifestyle, but almost nothing about our power-exchange relationship. We've talked very little about it over all these years. I was nervous.
In the end, the visit was grand. H came, met Master and T, lived here with us -- adapting to our patterns and routines. We played tourist, enjoyed some local sight-seeing, talked a lot, got accquainted and re-accquainted. It was fun. He was surprised, I think, by the absolute sense of "normal" that prevails around our household, and while he still has to reach a bit to really grasp the nature of our lives together, he seemed to find it all good. That feels good.
The truth is that I didn't need the approval of my kid brother. My life doesn't need anyone to approve. On the other hand, I don't have much family left. I've cut my ties, or had them cut for me, and sometimes it is painfully clear how alone I am in the world. Outside of our little household, apart from my two grown children, there is no one left. Except now there is H.
He doesn't approve or disapprove. He simply accepts, and that feels important to me.
He's home tonight; back with his dogs and his bird and his bunny rabbit. I'm glad he came. I hope he can come back again in time. I will miss him.
swan
My brother left this morning, boarding a plane back to his home in Dallas after spending the last 4 days with our family.
It was an interesting visit.
H is younger than I am by 16 months. He was born three months premature in 1956, weighing just 2 lbs., 6 ozs. His birth precipitated the first significant emotional trauma of my life, as my parents, overwhelmed by the arrival of their very sick and very tiny little son dropped me off with neighbors -- and left me there for a good part of the next six months.
H survived, and so did I. We grew, inside our very difficult family, into fast friends and loyal companions. Over the years, we shared an awful lot, and we always had each others' backs. I played his protector through our growing up years, and he spent hours and hours listening to my wild-eyed dreams, grounding me with his stolid, steady, stable German temperament. We were a pair, even after the birth of two more younger brothers. The expansion of our family never shook the bond that held H and I in a tight orbit around each other.
Even after he moved to Dallas, we stayed in touch, keeping each other close across the miles.
When I moved away, embarking on my new life here, H was shocked, confused, unsettled. He tried to not judge, but my choices flew in the face of everything he understood and believed about relationships and family. My mother (The Princess Pat) was more than willing to wind him up into her ravings on the subject, and H and I grew apart into a strained and pained estrangement. We never actually broke off our contact with one another, but the time lengthened between phone calls, and we struggled to know what to say to each other.
Every now and then, H would talk, vaguely, about coming to visit me here, but it never actually came to pass. Some of that was related to economic realities, but a good part of it was due to his ambivalence -- serious approach avoidance. It made me sad, but there wasn't a lot I could do or say.
Then. A few months ago, he started talking in earnest about coming to visit. Really! And, he finally made it happen, arriving last Sunday afternoon. Looking forward to his visit, I was excited, but also worried. It has been nine years since H and I were together. How, I wondered, would he be? With me? With Master and T? With us as a family? He knows a bit about our poly lifestyle, but almost nothing about our power-exchange relationship. We've talked very little about it over all these years. I was nervous.
In the end, the visit was grand. H came, met Master and T, lived here with us -- adapting to our patterns and routines. We played tourist, enjoyed some local sight-seeing, talked a lot, got accquainted and re-accquainted. It was fun. He was surprised, I think, by the absolute sense of "normal" that prevails around our household, and while he still has to reach a bit to really grasp the nature of our lives together, he seemed to find it all good. That feels good.
The truth is that I didn't need the approval of my kid brother. My life doesn't need anyone to approve. On the other hand, I don't have much family left. I've cut my ties, or had them cut for me, and sometimes it is painfully clear how alone I am in the world. Outside of our little household, apart from my two grown children, there is no one left. Except now there is H.
He doesn't approve or disapprove. He simply accepts, and that feels important to me.
He's home tonight; back with his dogs and his bird and his bunny rabbit. I'm glad he came. I hope he can come back again in time. I will miss him.
swan
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