The latest "Spanko Brunch" topic at My Bottom Smarts centered around what makes a "perfect" spanker. Lots and lots and lots of conversation about strength and sensitivity and goodness and consistency. I read and found myself shaking my head; noting a sense of unease and internal disagreement. I'm entirely sure that every single commenter at Bonnie's place is sincere, and that what they write about what makes a perfect spanker it absolutely the truth of it all for each and every one of them -- and it doesn't get close to the heart of the matter for me.
Now, probably the real fact of the matter is that He is NOT a "spanker." He is utterly Dominant, and He is a sadist whose primary sexual/erotic orientation and expression falls almost entirely into the realm of activities that could be grouped under the heading of "spanking" (although I'd probably argue that "impact play" is a more accurate description).
There is no question that He is a "good" person. There are very few men who work as hard, or bring as much personal committment or sense of mission to doing "good" in the world than the Man that T and I serve. The purity that fires His efforts on behalf of those He works for in our society is absolutely unwavering, and has driven a career that has spanned over three decades. It is a value driven life that has seen choices made in favor of service over riches and "power." He absolutely embodies the qualities of goodness, honor, and integrity.
He is unbelievably, stunningly, awesomely bright, perceptive, kind, and sensitive. He can be completely charming. Those who know Him socially, and professionally, often find that those traits are lavished on them. His Dominance wears a politically polished face in public. He cleans up really nice.
With us, at home, where He is in His element, things are His way. Always. That can mean many things. The world inside our walls, behind our doors, reflects His mood, suits His whim, IS exactly as He makes it to be. If the mood strikes Him, He can be completely generous, loving, tender, and sentimental. Or... He can be totally self-absorbed, arrogant, nasty, judgemental, inconsiderate, and even mean-spirited.
There are times when He does something that is so gosh darned sweet that it just drops me to my knees with amazement at His tender-heartedness. Those are the times when I am reminded that I am the luckiest of women. Those are the times when I am confirmed in the choice that I made back so many years ago. Those are the times when it all fits and feels right.
Then there are the times when I am ready to declare that He is an absolute, complete, unmitigated bastard. In those instances, I wonder what on earth I was thinking to have ever contemplated putting myself into this situation. I run the whole set of "non-option" options. I notice, mull over, brood upon, savor, pick at the scabs of -- the unfairness of it all. Oh yeah... I'm pathetic and pitiful.
Through that all, He remains exactly what and who He is -- who He has been from the very beginning. Older, yes -- but not one jot removed from the Man I first came to know eight years ago.
Which is the thing that is perhaps the one trait that none of Bonnie's commenters mentioned, but which, for us (for me) is essential: He's immovable.
I put my life in His hands, and no matter what happens; no matter what I toss at Him; no matter how emotionally bumpy my moods get; no matter how wimpy I feel; no matter how easy I am with the direction He drives us -- He remains. The foundation of our life is solid. Sure. Secure. I can BE insecure because I know that He IS secure.
That immovable certainty that forms the ramrod core of His being makes Him the perfect partner for me. It isn't always easy. There are times when I have to find a place to vent the fury the boils up in me when my stormy nature bangs into His determined solidity. There are probably plenty of people who would look at the tussling that I sometimes go through and see "trouble." I suppose, I might be some trouble for some. He seems to manage me just fine. Immovable.
He sets the course. He will have what He will have. He will go where He will go. He wants, and hopes for the happiness of all of us. He recognizes and supports whatever needs and feelings come up in the course of whatever comes up with all of that. Still, we go His way. Not the other way around. His goodness, strength, perceptivity, integrity, sensitivity are all traits that come into play in the relationship, certainly, but He is not in service to me. He knows this. So do I, and if I ever become confused about it; He simply slips a finger under the collar I wear and reminds me.
swan
1/29/2008
1/27/2008
I Need
It was a long week.
Anytime that there has been correction and discipline between us, the days that follow are laden with the emotions that resonate from that intense kind of interaction. Disciplinary encounters carry great weight, and while they tend to draw me to Him emotionally, they also leave me feeling personally fragile and small. Until there is some more gentle coming together in the aftermath, I have a very hard time shaking off the grim cobwebs left from a corrective session.
And so it has been this week, as I have gone about the process of re-evaluating my own issues and my own fussing, I have yearned for the time when we would reconnect on the physical level, and move past the lingering edge of that last miserable spanking from last weekend. It has hung around in the background of all my awareness, throughout the week, and as I've slowly gotten my feet back under me, still the sorrow has remained. Late in the dark nights, as I've come awake, I've found myself lying there, staring into the blackness, replaying the awfulness of His anger with me, and grieving. So, I have not been sleeping well.
Yesterday, our usual morning play time was interrupted by a delivery of firewood. Then, last night, knowing that today's morning time would be severely curtailed because we all had to be off to different obligations, I was lying awake in the middle of the night; unable to sleep; unable to find a place of comfort or calm. I tossed and turned and struggled with the blankets, the sheets, the pillows. Minutes and hours passed in misery as sleep eluded me.
Eventually, He woke up enough to ask me if I was OK. I took a deep breath, and told Him that I needed a spanking -- told Him I needed something to stand in the place of the terrible spanking from last weekend...
And then I curled into His arms and went sound asleep.
Just at dawn, we awoke together, and He granted that middle of the night request: a wonderful, slow-building, thorough session with the paddle and the cane and the strap. No battle this time -- just a bonding and a cleansing.
A good start to a long day.
swan
Anytime that there has been correction and discipline between us, the days that follow are laden with the emotions that resonate from that intense kind of interaction. Disciplinary encounters carry great weight, and while they tend to draw me to Him emotionally, they also leave me feeling personally fragile and small. Until there is some more gentle coming together in the aftermath, I have a very hard time shaking off the grim cobwebs left from a corrective session.
And so it has been this week, as I have gone about the process of re-evaluating my own issues and my own fussing, I have yearned for the time when we would reconnect on the physical level, and move past the lingering edge of that last miserable spanking from last weekend. It has hung around in the background of all my awareness, throughout the week, and as I've slowly gotten my feet back under me, still the sorrow has remained. Late in the dark nights, as I've come awake, I've found myself lying there, staring into the blackness, replaying the awfulness of His anger with me, and grieving. So, I have not been sleeping well.
Yesterday, our usual morning play time was interrupted by a delivery of firewood. Then, last night, knowing that today's morning time would be severely curtailed because we all had to be off to different obligations, I was lying awake in the middle of the night; unable to sleep; unable to find a place of comfort or calm. I tossed and turned and struggled with the blankets, the sheets, the pillows. Minutes and hours passed in misery as sleep eluded me.
Eventually, He woke up enough to ask me if I was OK. I took a deep breath, and told Him that I needed a spanking -- told Him I needed something to stand in the place of the terrible spanking from last weekend...
And then I curled into His arms and went sound asleep.
Just at dawn, we awoke together, and He granted that middle of the night request: a wonderful, slow-building, thorough session with the paddle and the cane and the strap. No battle this time -- just a bonding and a cleansing.
A good start to a long day.
swan
1/26/2008
565
There have been 394 posts here at The Heron Clan, and before that, 171 written at The Swan's Heart -- a total of 565 posts. With very few exceptions, those posts have been sincere and honest glimpses into my life, and our lives together. There is very, very little in all of that writing that would be considered to be silliness or "fluff" by any description. Thousands and thousands and thousands of words that have drawn the pictures of our days and laid out the dramas and dilemmas and simple moments that weave a life and a love that is different than what many understand as "normal."
I sometimes go back through the bits and pieces scattered across all those many posts, and I find myself a bit bemused by the voice that I find there. Sometimes the words flow, and I am pretty amazed at the elegance. Often they just pour out all over the place, and I am frankly stunned at how very raw they seem. All of them, however, are honestly mine -- written from the depths of my heart, without any pretense. I do not hide here. What you see on these pages is the truth as clearly as I can figure it out from wherever I am standing when the words flow from the ends of my fingers.
Silly. Scared. Angry. Joyful. Grieving. Crazy. Confident. Secure. Depressed. Jealous. Confused. Hopeful... All of those emotions and feelings spilled all over the place here, without much gloss and with very little effort to disguise who I am or what I am about. If I struggle, you will read it here, and if I soar, that too will show up right here.
It isn't always easy to follow the path that I and WE have chosen. This kind of loving can be a challenge. It isn't easy to love ONE person steadfastly and well. We do it as a triad, with the potential at EVERY moment for there to be additions to that mix. I'd doubt that there is one person in a thousand that has the kind of personal courage, strength, or integrity that it takes to build the kind of loving family that we have. I've never, ever once claimed that it was a path that is easy for me. I have never proclaimed that I am "naturally" inclined to poly. I've been clear that it was a construct that WE (and I) came to because it worked for us, given the place that we all found ourselves when our Love became a very clear reality. I have, on more than one occasion, been clear that I have roots in very traditional belief systems that still pull at me despite my intellectual understandings of the validity of what we pursue in our poly life. I am fully capable of running all sorts of BAD guilt raps on myself, by myself. Right here, out here, in the open for everyone to see.
So, there is really nothing in the kind of vitriolic nastiness that our dogged "anonymous" commenter likes to heap on me that I haven't already delved into on my own. There is surely not a single ORIGINAL thought in this drivel:
The only thing that "anonymous" manages that I don't is that he or she stays hidden. It is easy, I imagine, to spew venom when no one knows who you are; when you have no exposure. Of course, too, it reduces your words to just so much meaningless babble.
Sorry, anonymous, whatever your issue is, you don't have any hold on me. You have no sway. You don't show yourself, as yourself, so you cannot lay claim to stand in my world. Keep on leaving your angry stuff lying around here in the comments section. No one will stop you. Neither will we pay you the least mind...
swan
I sometimes go back through the bits and pieces scattered across all those many posts, and I find myself a bit bemused by the voice that I find there. Sometimes the words flow, and I am pretty amazed at the elegance. Often they just pour out all over the place, and I am frankly stunned at how very raw they seem. All of them, however, are honestly mine -- written from the depths of my heart, without any pretense. I do not hide here. What you see on these pages is the truth as clearly as I can figure it out from wherever I am standing when the words flow from the ends of my fingers.
Silly. Scared. Angry. Joyful. Grieving. Crazy. Confident. Secure. Depressed. Jealous. Confused. Hopeful... All of those emotions and feelings spilled all over the place here, without much gloss and with very little effort to disguise who I am or what I am about. If I struggle, you will read it here, and if I soar, that too will show up right here.
It isn't always easy to follow the path that I and WE have chosen. This kind of loving can be a challenge. It isn't easy to love ONE person steadfastly and well. We do it as a triad, with the potential at EVERY moment for there to be additions to that mix. I'd doubt that there is one person in a thousand that has the kind of personal courage, strength, or integrity that it takes to build the kind of loving family that we have. I've never, ever once claimed that it was a path that is easy for me. I have never proclaimed that I am "naturally" inclined to poly. I've been clear that it was a construct that WE (and I) came to because it worked for us, given the place that we all found ourselves when our Love became a very clear reality. I have, on more than one occasion, been clear that I have roots in very traditional belief systems that still pull at me despite my intellectual understandings of the validity of what we pursue in our poly life. I am fully capable of running all sorts of BAD guilt raps on myself, by myself. Right here, out here, in the open for everyone to see.
So, there is really nothing in the kind of vitriolic nastiness that our dogged "anonymous" commenter likes to heap on me that I haven't already delved into on my own. There is surely not a single ORIGINAL thought in this drivel:
swan, it seems to me that you only tolerate poly because someone else was in the relationship when you muscled in. You entered an existing relationship and dear T accomodated you so isn't it time to "play it forward" and make space as has been made for you.
The only thing that "anonymous" manages that I don't is that he or she stays hidden. It is easy, I imagine, to spew venom when no one knows who you are; when you have no exposure. Of course, too, it reduces your words to just so much meaningless babble.
Sorry, anonymous, whatever your issue is, you don't have any hold on me. You have no sway. You don't show yourself, as yourself, so you cannot lay claim to stand in my world. Keep on leaving your angry stuff lying around here in the comments section. No one will stop you. Neither will we pay you the least mind...
swan
My Story
I was born a poor black child..... (insert phonographic needle scratching vinyl here) ..... oops, that's someone else's tale. I digress....
Tom and Swan will tell you that I am the "baby" of the clan. Yet, some days I feel I am ancient. I have been on the planet for nearly 51 years. I was born in southern CA, the product of a "good girl" and a "naughty navy man". We relocated to SW Ohio when I was young and I had a pretty uneventful childhood, teen-time, and young adulthood.
During college I started working in restaurants. I worked my way up to management and became a "headhunter" of sorts. My company would send me into non-performing units, I would scope out their potential, I would report back and they would relocate me to that spot to get the job done. I was never in any one spot more than 9 months. I would evaluate, fire, hire, train, bring the unit back to the black and headquarters would send me to the next trouble spot. I had very little personal life, as I was working between 60-80 hours a week. And as soon as I would start making friends, it was time to leave. But I had books, and a vivid imagination and wondered if there were other "freaks" like me out there. I found a few, but having little personal time, and the fear of discovery kept me in my books.
Then computers became more readily accessible. Oo La La! I got my first All-in-One PC back when 14,400 was LIGHTNING SPEED! And I found Prodigy. And I found PERVS! And I found that I was not the only freak on the street. I spent HOURS online. I spent untold hundreds of dollars on dial-up, pay-by-the-minute chat with like-minded persons. And then, after about a year of just talking to these people that I had never laid eyes on (remember we didn't have any cameras on our PCs yet during the dark ages), we all decided to....... MEET! I about puked. I was going to die. I just KNEW these people were all going to be JUST LIKE the pictures of the BDSM people in the magazines. And I was not. The men were all going to be tall, dark, handsome, commanding, and drool-able. And the women were going to be ...... Perfect Submissives. You know the ones....the "Perfect" ones. We have all heard about them. (Yes, please insert dramatic eye roll here!) So I went.... and they were all just like..... ME! Some were tall, some were short, some were thin, and most were fat. A few were georgous. A few were not. Most were average. Most did not have these magical toy bags full of wonderfully glorious toys than cost an arm and leg. Many had home-made goodies. Golly, I fit right in. And it was wonderful!
I was publicly out in the scene about 7 years before I met Tom. I had never been collared. I had never been married. I pretty much had give that all up. I knew I was a good person. A good family member and a good friend, when needed. And then Whims told me about this guy who was moving close to me. He was seperated, changing jobs, lonely, and needed a friend. She thought I would be perfect. Whims, being the Uber-Domme, "strongly" suggested I email Tom.... I forgot. A week later, she asked if I had (of course, I hadn't) and she "forcefully" requested I email Tom..... I forgot. A few days later she tracked me down and told me "Get out of the chat room and WRITE TOM, DAMMIT!"... I wrote Tom. We met halfway for dinner and spent over 4 hours talking. We closed down the restaurant, and the rest is history.
I almost died before we could get married. I developed a fever and tummy problems that would not go away. They put me in the hospital and called it diverticulitus. No food, no water. Antibiotics and settle the intestines. A week later they started food again and I went home. With the fever and tummy problems returning. I was to have a colonoscopy and Tom was at an evening meeting the night I was doing the "prep" (gag). I got sick about 2/3 of the way thru' the jug-o-crap and crawled into bed. Tom came home, called the Dr. and was told to not worry, just bring me in the next morning for the procedure. The alarm went off, I got out of bed and fell to the floor in pain. Tom dressed me and practically carried me to the car. My intestines had ruptured, I had peritonitis, and a temperature of 106. They scheduled me for surgery, pumped me full of morphine, and from that point to approx. 10 days later, my memories are what Tom has given me. Apparently I had MRSA and was given very little change of making it. They removed 8 inches of my colon. I had a temporary colostomy. I was in intensive care for 6 days. I was in a private room for another 8 days. Tom slept in a chair alot. And the few hours he was home, he was online, and he met Swan.
When I came home, Tom was busy with home IV's 2 times a day and sterile dressing changes for the open wound I was sent home with. I slept alot. I didn't work for almost 6 months. But I got better and I learned that Tom had made some amazing new friends while I was sick, who supported him when I could not. "He-who-shall-remain-nameless" and Swan.
Friends. Cool. I like Friends. And within our lifestyle we had many friends. Tom likes to spank and I could not handle the intensity he preferred, so we had "Stunt-Butts". There were a few women that just wanted to be spanked. No relationship. They were no threat to our life together, they just wanted a good beatin' occasionally. Worked for everyone. And after I was sick, I was just not able to handle any sort of spanking, so having the "Stunts" made perfect sense to me.
As I said before, I slept ALOT. And when I was sleeping, Tom was either on the PC or phone with Swan. And they were growing closer. I was still thinking "friends", but, looking back, I am sure they were not. And when it was finally brought to my attention that it was more than "friends"..... I was stunned. I was scared. I was crushed. I figured, because I had changed (by no fault of my own), he didn't want me anymore and was looking for someone else. Tom reasured me that this was not the case, but it was hard to get my head around. Tom still loved me to pieces, but he loved Swan, too. And what if the 4 of us became a family? WHATTHEFUCK????
Yeah, I was not the "happy-go-lucky" T you see before you. I was a pain in the ass! I dragged my heels. I dragged EVERYONES heels. Poly "rules" say only go as fast as the slowest member of the group? I was damned slow. But I was honest. He-who-shall-remain-nameless was not. And that made for a sucky year.
I know that Swan is often beseiged with concern that she has taken Tom from me. She can only take what I am willing to give. I think that our lives work. There are times that we get our fur up and I don't necessarily think that is a bad thing. Walking on egg shells over things will just make it more difficult to put issues to rest.
I think that there has been alot here about Swan's concerns about Tom talking to others. I think she is scared that he will find someone else and not have enough room for her. I have to say, that I honestly feel nothing could be further from the truth. Tom likes to talk. We ALL know this. He likes to share his expertise. And he LOVES to spank. We used to have 2-3 regular "Stunt-butts" and an occasional "Drop-in-Stunt". But he only spanks Swan now. Swan's ass couldn't take all the beatin' Tom would like to dish out. Let's face it, Sweetie, as we grow "more mature" our skin thins, and the tissue on your butt won't take it!
Swan and I are here to stay. WE are Sisters. WE are his wives. It takes a village to raise a Dominant and WE are Tom's "Village". He might "look". He might "talk". He might "spank". BUT he ALWAYS comes home to us. And he ALWAYS sleeps with Swan tucked under his chest, close to his heart....just as it should be.....
T
Tom and Swan will tell you that I am the "baby" of the clan. Yet, some days I feel I am ancient. I have been on the planet for nearly 51 years. I was born in southern CA, the product of a "good girl" and a "naughty navy man". We relocated to SW Ohio when I was young and I had a pretty uneventful childhood, teen-time, and young adulthood.
During college I started working in restaurants. I worked my way up to management and became a "headhunter" of sorts. My company would send me into non-performing units, I would scope out their potential, I would report back and they would relocate me to that spot to get the job done. I was never in any one spot more than 9 months. I would evaluate, fire, hire, train, bring the unit back to the black and headquarters would send me to the next trouble spot. I had very little personal life, as I was working between 60-80 hours a week. And as soon as I would start making friends, it was time to leave. But I had books, and a vivid imagination and wondered if there were other "freaks" like me out there. I found a few, but having little personal time, and the fear of discovery kept me in my books.
Then computers became more readily accessible. Oo La La! I got my first All-in-One PC back when 14,400 was LIGHTNING SPEED! And I found Prodigy. And I found PERVS! And I found that I was not the only freak on the street. I spent HOURS online. I spent untold hundreds of dollars on dial-up, pay-by-the-minute chat with like-minded persons. And then, after about a year of just talking to these people that I had never laid eyes on (remember we didn't have any cameras on our PCs yet during the dark ages), we all decided to....... MEET! I about puked. I was going to die. I just KNEW these people were all going to be JUST LIKE the pictures of the BDSM people in the magazines. And I was not. The men were all going to be tall, dark, handsome, commanding, and drool-able. And the women were going to be ...... Perfect Submissives. You know the ones....the "Perfect" ones. We have all heard about them. (Yes, please insert dramatic eye roll here!) So I went.... and they were all just like..... ME! Some were tall, some were short, some were thin, and most were fat. A few were georgous. A few were not. Most were average. Most did not have these magical toy bags full of wonderfully glorious toys than cost an arm and leg. Many had home-made goodies. Golly, I fit right in. And it was wonderful!
I was publicly out in the scene about 7 years before I met Tom. I had never been collared. I had never been married. I pretty much had give that all up. I knew I was a good person. A good family member and a good friend, when needed. And then Whims told me about this guy who was moving close to me. He was seperated, changing jobs, lonely, and needed a friend. She thought I would be perfect. Whims, being the Uber-Domme, "strongly" suggested I email Tom.... I forgot. A week later, she asked if I had (of course, I hadn't) and she "forcefully" requested I email Tom..... I forgot. A few days later she tracked me down and told me "Get out of the chat room and WRITE TOM, DAMMIT!"... I wrote Tom. We met halfway for dinner and spent over 4 hours talking. We closed down the restaurant, and the rest is history.
I almost died before we could get married. I developed a fever and tummy problems that would not go away. They put me in the hospital and called it diverticulitus. No food, no water. Antibiotics and settle the intestines. A week later they started food again and I went home. With the fever and tummy problems returning. I was to have a colonoscopy and Tom was at an evening meeting the night I was doing the "prep" (gag). I got sick about 2/3 of the way thru' the jug-o-crap and crawled into bed. Tom came home, called the Dr. and was told to not worry, just bring me in the next morning for the procedure. The alarm went off, I got out of bed and fell to the floor in pain. Tom dressed me and practically carried me to the car. My intestines had ruptured, I had peritonitis, and a temperature of 106. They scheduled me for surgery, pumped me full of morphine, and from that point to approx. 10 days later, my memories are what Tom has given me. Apparently I had MRSA and was given very little change of making it. They removed 8 inches of my colon. I had a temporary colostomy. I was in intensive care for 6 days. I was in a private room for another 8 days. Tom slept in a chair alot. And the few hours he was home, he was online, and he met Swan.
When I came home, Tom was busy with home IV's 2 times a day and sterile dressing changes for the open wound I was sent home with. I slept alot. I didn't work for almost 6 months. But I got better and I learned that Tom had made some amazing new friends while I was sick, who supported him when I could not. "He-who-shall-remain-nameless" and Swan.
Friends. Cool. I like Friends. And within our lifestyle we had many friends. Tom likes to spank and I could not handle the intensity he preferred, so we had "Stunt-Butts". There were a few women that just wanted to be spanked. No relationship. They were no threat to our life together, they just wanted a good beatin' occasionally. Worked for everyone. And after I was sick, I was just not able to handle any sort of spanking, so having the "Stunts" made perfect sense to me.
As I said before, I slept ALOT. And when I was sleeping, Tom was either on the PC or phone with Swan. And they were growing closer. I was still thinking "friends", but, looking back, I am sure they were not. And when it was finally brought to my attention that it was more than "friends"..... I was stunned. I was scared. I was crushed. I figured, because I had changed (by no fault of my own), he didn't want me anymore and was looking for someone else. Tom reasured me that this was not the case, but it was hard to get my head around. Tom still loved me to pieces, but he loved Swan, too. And what if the 4 of us became a family? WHATTHEFUCK????
Yeah, I was not the "happy-go-lucky" T you see before you. I was a pain in the ass! I dragged my heels. I dragged EVERYONES heels. Poly "rules" say only go as fast as the slowest member of the group? I was damned slow. But I was honest. He-who-shall-remain-nameless was not. And that made for a sucky year.
I know that Swan is often beseiged with concern that she has taken Tom from me. She can only take what I am willing to give. I think that our lives work. There are times that we get our fur up and I don't necessarily think that is a bad thing. Walking on egg shells over things will just make it more difficult to put issues to rest.
I think that there has been alot here about Swan's concerns about Tom talking to others. I think she is scared that he will find someone else and not have enough room for her. I have to say, that I honestly feel nothing could be further from the truth. Tom likes to talk. We ALL know this. He likes to share his expertise. And he LOVES to spank. We used to have 2-3 regular "Stunt-butts" and an occasional "Drop-in-Stunt". But he only spanks Swan now. Swan's ass couldn't take all the beatin' Tom would like to dish out. Let's face it, Sweetie, as we grow "more mature" our skin thins, and the tissue on your butt won't take it!
Swan and I are here to stay. WE are Sisters. WE are his wives. It takes a village to raise a Dominant and WE are Tom's "Village". He might "look". He might "talk". He might "spank". BUT he ALWAYS comes home to us. And he ALWAYS sleeps with Swan tucked under his chest, close to his heart....just as it should be.....
T
1/24/2008
List
I've gotten off the path. I am lost. I need to get back to where I belong, and I need to find a calm center. No one can help me but myself. So there'll probably not be much to see here. I will be inside for the next bit, paying attention to the work that I need to be doing.
To do list:
1) be grateful
2) be optimistic
3) do what I do with attention and enthusiasm
4) be open and curious
5) love and be loved
swan
To do list:
1) be grateful
2) be optimistic
3) do what I do with attention and enthusiasm
4) be open and curious
5) love and be loved
swan
1/21/2008
You are My Slave
We've talked (He and I), more than once, about the dilemmas presented when there is "love" included in the BDSM equation.
As "things" have evolved between us in the last couple of years, and the intensity of our "play" has shifted, He has spoken of the conversation that He engages in within His own mind about wanting to fulfill His sadistic desires while, simultaneously, being reluctant to hurt me... He is genuinely torn. I suspect that He is not the first Dominant to find walking that path confusing at best.
As for me, the reality of my slavery is generally pretty lightly held in our world. There are no set protocols. Life is pretty fluid. It has been fairly easy for me to slip into believing that because He loves me as my Master, that is the same thing as being "in love" with me in a romantic sense.
The truth is that our relationship lives on two levels, but the core of who we are is always going to be rooted in the fact that He is "Master," and I am "slave." It is important that I not forget that reality, if this realtionship is going to proceed smoothly and calmly along the path that is best for the two of us.
Forgetting put us at odds with each other this last weekend. It was not a happy time in the House of Heron.
Most of the regular readers here know that I struggle with the "poly-ness" which is Master's natural bent. His desire and preference is to have multitudes of play partners, and He actively seeks those people out. There is no shortage of "fodder" in that arena. In the "vanilla" poly world (is there such a thing?), there are all sorts of rules and understandings and pretty little platitudes. People talk about honesty and keeping partners "on the same page" and all kinds of sort of "equal opportunity" stuff. But that's vanilla poly.
We aren't vanilla poly.
He trolls, and He links up, and He makes His arrangements how and as He will, and He doesn't feel any particular need or requirement to share any of that with me. Why should He? I am the slave. That's His view. Makes absolute sense to Him.
They show up in the stat counts, because He sends them here. I can see them. And He gets all excited and "weird" sounding with me. So I "know" about them. Except I don't. And if I ask, He tells me "not happening." And I get crazy, because I can't tell what is real and what isn't.
Pisses me off.
Except that He has made it clear: "You are my slave. I am the Master. I will communicate with whomever I please -- spank whomever I please. Whenever, however, wherever I choose. You will behave, in that context, exactly as I tell you to behave. You will not practice emotional blackmail. You are mine." Backed up words and commands with the kind of impact that He believes drives His message home.
So.
I will be backing up. Backing off. Learning this anew or again or whatever. It isn't about what I want or what I like or how I feel. It is about Him. Message received.
Slave. Leave the emotional "stuff" at the door. Obey and serve. There will always be a place within Master's love for that slave. Without that, He will only be bewildered at what it is that I think I am doing here...
swan
As "things" have evolved between us in the last couple of years, and the intensity of our "play" has shifted, He has spoken of the conversation that He engages in within His own mind about wanting to fulfill His sadistic desires while, simultaneously, being reluctant to hurt me... He is genuinely torn. I suspect that He is not the first Dominant to find walking that path confusing at best.
As for me, the reality of my slavery is generally pretty lightly held in our world. There are no set protocols. Life is pretty fluid. It has been fairly easy for me to slip into believing that because He loves me as my Master, that is the same thing as being "in love" with me in a romantic sense.
The truth is that our relationship lives on two levels, but the core of who we are is always going to be rooted in the fact that He is "Master," and I am "slave." It is important that I not forget that reality, if this realtionship is going to proceed smoothly and calmly along the path that is best for the two of us.
Forgetting put us at odds with each other this last weekend. It was not a happy time in the House of Heron.
Most of the regular readers here know that I struggle with the "poly-ness" which is Master's natural bent. His desire and preference is to have multitudes of play partners, and He actively seeks those people out. There is no shortage of "fodder" in that arena. In the "vanilla" poly world (is there such a thing?), there are all sorts of rules and understandings and pretty little platitudes. People talk about honesty and keeping partners "on the same page" and all kinds of sort of "equal opportunity" stuff. But that's vanilla poly.
We aren't vanilla poly.
He trolls, and He links up, and He makes His arrangements how and as He will, and He doesn't feel any particular need or requirement to share any of that with me. Why should He? I am the slave. That's His view. Makes absolute sense to Him.
They show up in the stat counts, because He sends them here. I can see them. And He gets all excited and "weird" sounding with me. So I "know" about them. Except I don't. And if I ask, He tells me "not happening." And I get crazy, because I can't tell what is real and what isn't.
Pisses me off.
Except that He has made it clear: "You are my slave. I am the Master. I will communicate with whomever I please -- spank whomever I please. Whenever, however, wherever I choose. You will behave, in that context, exactly as I tell you to behave. You will not practice emotional blackmail. You are mine." Backed up words and commands with the kind of impact that He believes drives His message home.
So.
I will be backing up. Backing off. Learning this anew or again or whatever. It isn't about what I want or what I like or how I feel. It is about Him. Message received.
Slave. Leave the emotional "stuff" at the door. Obey and serve. There will always be a place within Master's love for that slave. Without that, He will only be bewildered at what it is that I think I am doing here...
swan
1/19/2008
Happy Anniversary! ... NOT
I was out reading my favorite political blog "Daily Kos" and came across an article that sent me to "Think Progressive" and THIS
Anti-choice group mails plastic fetuses.
A “right to life” group in Wisconsin is “under fire” for mailing an “informational letter, a fundraising envelope and a small plastic fetus ” to 44,000 people. According to Wisconsin Right to Life, “the plastic figure represents an 11- or 12-week fetus” and is meant “to mark the 35-year anniversary of Roe Vs. Wade.”
Well, All I can say is "THANK YOU!" What a wonderful anniversary present for the masses. How thrilled I would have been, as a parent , if that little tinkle of joy tumbled out in front of my child as I was opening my mail!
I am aware there are people out there who think THEY have the right to tell me what I should do with my girlie parts and what and who should be housed within, but DAMMIT.... The very few hairs that live on the back of my neck are at "ATTENTION"! I have never been able to have kids of my own, but still support a woman's right to chose her own path. Just because I do not think abortion would have been my choice, that doesn't mean I would deny anyone that option.
But to casually drop a pink plastic fetus in an envelope as a "gift" to prompt you to support their cause, makes me want to gas up the car and head to Washington!
Roe vs. Wade is done. It is old legislation that almost every legally responsible mind in the country has said will be left alone by the Supremes. Why can't they just take their plastic fetuses and go play in their own sandboxes?
T
Anti-choice group mails plastic fetuses.
A “right to life” group in Wisconsin is “under fire” for mailing an “informational letter, a fundraising envelope and a small plastic fetus ” to 44,000 people. According to Wisconsin Right to Life, “the plastic figure represents an 11- or 12-week fetus” and is meant “to mark the 35-year anniversary of Roe Vs. Wade.”
Well, All I can say is "THANK YOU!" What a wonderful anniversary present for the masses. How thrilled I would have been, as a parent , if that little tinkle of joy tumbled out in front of my child as I was opening my mail!
I am aware there are people out there who think THEY have the right to tell me what I should do with my girlie parts and what and who should be housed within, but DAMMIT.... The very few hairs that live on the back of my neck are at "ATTENTION"! I have never been able to have kids of my own, but still support a woman's right to chose her own path. Just because I do not think abortion would have been my choice, that doesn't mean I would deny anyone that option.
But to casually drop a pink plastic fetus in an envelope as a "gift" to prompt you to support their cause, makes me want to gas up the car and head to Washington!
Roe vs. Wade is done. It is old legislation that almost every legally responsible mind in the country has said will be left alone by the Supremes. Why can't they just take their plastic fetuses and go play in their own sandboxes?
T
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