Our Biggest Hurdle - Answer to Question from Tomsrose

What was your biggest hurdle when you decided to change up the dynamic in your marriage?

I think it's a common one. Learning to let go of ‘what I thought it should be’ and submit to what Daddy wanted.

I started all of it in the bedroom, but to me it was all fun and games. I think I had sub-frenzy times a million because not only was I discovering my submissive side, I was discovering I actually enjoyed and wanted sex for the first time in my life. And I was beyond thrilled that I could finally give Daddy everything he’d ever wanted in our marriage.

When Daddy proposed it, I thought it would be easy. Daddy usually made a lot of the decisions outside of the bedroom throughout our marriage anyways so the only real change would be all that crazy sex we would be having. Ha Ha. How wrong I was.

I think it all overwhelmed Daddy at first. He was a new dom trying to find his confidence and deal with this over-eager wife of his and wanted to take things slow. And I got impatient and frustrated and attempted to control him into controlling me.

Things went downhill very fast. Daddy lost confidence and pulled away. I felt rejected and pulled away. I was so humiliated and embarrassed and just wanted to go back to how we were before all of this.

Daddy decided we needed to take a step back. He wanted some time to research, learn, understand, and find the confidence to do this right. The step back was good for me too it gave me time to calm down from all those ‘frenzied’ feelings’.

During our break, Daddy found a series of books he really liked. He said it helped him understand the ‘submissive mindset’ more. I’m not sure what they said exactly because I’ve never been allowed to read them, but they definitely must’ve helped because when Daddy finally decided we were ready things went very differently.

This time he made it very clear that he was in control and we were moving at his pace. He implemented rules and rituals (some I didn’t like too much). He also started giving me assignments. These initial assignments led to us sharing daily e-mails at least twice the size of this blog post. I used to think we had pretty good communication, but it was crazy—like a floodgate had opened or something.

When Daddy first proposed TTWD, I thought it meant he wanted sex all the time. That he wanted me to make breakfast and serve his coffee and let him make the decisions. It seemed so easy. But what he really wanted was me – all of me. He wanted in so he could pull out those parts of me I held back, so he could break down those walls I’ve built, so he could heal the broken parts.

Getting to that point wasn’t easy. The way we crashed and burned the first time trying to add the dynamic scared me. I had a lot of doubts and concerns as to whether Daddy really wanted this. But when we finally got there and I finally let go, it was worth it.

When Daddy and I first started dating, I liked him a lot. And eventually I loved him. He was there for me during a hard time, he spoke my love language, he made me laugh, and he got me in a way nobody ever did.  He’s been my best friend, a great father, and we’ve survived some pretty tough times.

But I’ve never felt the ‘butterflies’. Not with him, not with anybody. I thought they were some myth reserved for teenagers and romance novels. But when I finally learned to let go, I fell in love – like really, truly deeply in love -- for the first time in my life. I felt the butterflies.

Not to say we haven’t had hurdles since. Sometimes Daddy loses his confidence and sometimes I struggle to ‘let go’. When it happens at the same time, it’s like a perfect storm for us and usually results in some pretty big fights. We’ve stumbled and gotten a little lost at times. But ever since overcoming that first hurdle, I’ve had no doubt this is what we both need and that it’s worth fighting for.  

Thank you Tomsrose for the great question.

Don't Wipe Your Feet On Me

Before I was Aurora, I was a doormat. I hated conflict and drama and figured the best way to avoid it all was to do whatever I could to keep everybody happy.

Honestly with most people, this wasn't too hard. Most people are pretty reasonable. Treat them kindly and they treat you kindly. The problem for me was the few who weren't like that. The ones that were hard to please. The ones with high expectations that kept shifting with no warning.

For some crazy reason, these were the people I always tried the hardest with. Bending, twisting, squeezing...always trying to fit into what they wanted me to be. Even if it meant less time and energy for more important people in my life like my family. Even if it meant giving up myself, my feelings, my needs. I would do anything for these people. Because when I said I wanted to please everybody, I meant everybody.

In all honesty, I wasn't an unhappy person living this way. I don't get angry or irritated easily (unless it's something that hurts my kids) and what better way to stay conflict-free than to be everybody's doormat. The only thing is that when you're a doormat you don't move, you don't grow, you don't go anywhere. You just exist for everybody else.

Submitting to Daddy has meant I can no longer be that doormat. I'm learning to be honest with him about everything. My thoughts, feelings, fears, needs. Everything. That's meant acknowledging me. There is somebody inside of me, a very real somebody. Not just some chameleon taking on the personality that fits who she is around.

I thought this D/s thing was supposed to be about Him, but somedays it feels as if it's me at the center of it all. Piece by piece Daddy's digging up the real parts of Aurora and molding her into who he wants her to be. Who she should be. And she is not a doormat. She's strong. She has courage. She has a voice. She's not as worried about what others think -- it's only Daddy's opinion that matters.

Last month I wrote a post about how Aurora has been hiding in my real life, but not long after that post I found out she wasn't hiding as well as I thought. Parts of her have been bleeding into all areas of my life and people have noticed. For some, it's been a good thing. For others...well not so much.

My priorities have been rearranged over the last year. And while I'd still drop everything in a heartbeat for a friend in need, I've been putting Daddy, our girls, and my career first. Unfortunately that's meant having to say 'no' to things I've never said 'no' to before. It's meant not meeting somebody's expectations. It's been making some people in my life a little unhappy.

Last month I found myself in a situation I thought only happened in high school. I was betrayed by somebody I'd been really close to. Somebody I really trusted. It's a situation where under Daddy's guidance, I've had to let go and walk away from.

I feel split apart. On one side, I'm hurting so much. I have so many questions and no answers. I keep rewinding everything...trying to figure out where I went wrong. I want to lash out, I want to scream, I want to cry. I just want to desperately understand.

On the other side, I'm relieved. There's this unexplainable freedom. Maybe deep down, I must've known I wasn't keeping them happy and the guilt was weighing on me. Areas of my life that felt blocked a month ago are suddenly wide open, and I've been more productive in the past few weeks than I probably was for most of 2013.

I'm still wrestling with these two sides. But with Daddy's help, the Aurora side is hopefully definitely winning. Maybe it's not such a bad thing to let it leak into the other areas of my life. To embrace me in every way I can. Even if it hurts sometimes. Even if it means letting go.

A (Brief) View From The Bottom

As Aurora had mentioned the other day, on the second to last day of 2013, I offered her a chance to be the dominant for a couple of days. We are in the roles that we are for a reason.  That is where we are comfortable.  However, I thought that perhaps it would be good for the both of us to see it from the other side. It took about 20 hours for her to beg me to take the power back.  It didn't feel right for her.  She hated being in control.  The truth is...no begging was necessary.

I give credit to any person...male or female...that can give complete submission.  It is a gift.  A gift that I, as a dominant, cannot completely wrap my head around.  First of all, I am just not wired to submit.  I need to be in control of myself and Aurora.  I am happiest and most comfortable that way.  In turn, Aurora is not wired to be dominant.  She is happiest when decisions are made for her and when I have the control.  We are made for each other.

So, when I handed Aurora control, what do you think she went to first?  Yep. My spanking stick.  My spanking stick is literally a wand from a set of  mini blinds.  It is quiet and that is part of the reason I like it so much being that we have kids in the house.  At any rate, I played along (not sure if you would call it submitting).  I laid on my belly, bare bottomed and let her give it a try.  She tapped me lightly and giggled.  This was going to be easy.  She didn't have it in her to spank me hard, like I do to her. 

Just as I relaxed, thinking about how she was going to be handing back the power any minute, apparently she decided that this was her one and only chance...and...WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!  Holy fuck!  I rolled over to let the stinging subside. Yes, I know...bad submissive.  When I rolled back over onto my stomach, she really got into it, giving me several whacks with the stick.  I flinched away and rolled onto my back and told her in my best submissive tone that she will never touch me with that stick again.  I was caught in between thinking how much I hated that feeling and thinking about how damn effective it must be on her and looking forward to my next chance to spank her with it.  I decided that I belong on the swinging end of the spanking stick from now on.  I am happier. She is happier. I think the stick is even happier that way. If I were the stick, I would prefer touching her ass than mine any day.

I realize that this story makes me look like a gigantic wuss.  And maybe I am.  What I did realize though is that one truly needs to be submissive to take that kind of pain.  Once in the mindset of serving and enduring, it is amazing what a submissive can withstand.  It makes me proud of Aurora and shows me how much she loves her role.  You have to love it in order to put up with that stick! 

I Am Aurora

I've been part of a writing group for a few years now. It's made up of a great, wonderful group of women from all over the world. They're sweet, supportive, and know how to make each other laugh when those rejections and bad reviews roll in. My critique partners all come from this group. We've shared not only our writing over the years, but friendship through texts, phone calls, little gifts through the mail, and even the occasional real-life meet up.

They're really great. Don't get me wrong.

But they're also super competitive. They'll have your back today and gladly stab you in it tomorrow. They thrive on the drama -- hey, we're writers after all. There's cliques within the group and a hierachy very reminiscent of my high school days. Your worth in the group is measured by your success.

It's exhausting to deal with it all sometimes. I know I'm repeating myself, but I am an introvert. As a little girl, the lure of being a full-time novelist to me was not having to deal with people. To hole up in my room with the characters in my head all day seemed like the perfect life. But that was before the internet. Before social media. Today being online and interacting with readers and fellow writers is part of the gig.

The pressure is crazy. Everything moves so fast. The girl being secretly trashed yesterday might just get that big deal or award today and everybody will be scrambling to suck up to her. Drama is always blowing up every other day it seems, and I think there is a fear that if you aren't around and available and part of everything, that it will be you who will become the latest 'gossip subject'. That if you disappear, your 'standing' in the group will slip.

To be honest, I hate the drama and I'm a horrible competitor. Sometimes I wish I was better at it...I really do. Because the better you can play the game, the further you seem to go. I dunno...maybe it's the little in me or something, but sometimes I just really really wish we could all be ourselves with each other. No judgment. That we could truly be friends.

Before TTWD I was drowning in all of this. There was blogging, tumblr, the gazillion facebook groups I belong to, e-mail, twitter, and keeping up with reading the newest book releases. There would be conversations and chats that would go to all hours of the night, and then I'd have to be up early the next morning to work the day job. I'd have to find time to write, revise, critique all their work, write blog posts, tweet, tumble, and still keep up with them. And that doesn't even cover the havoc the drama played on my emotions.

But Daddy stepped in and placed limits. He's helped me to prioritize what is important and let go of what isn't. He's brought peace and order to that part of my life.

Sometimes it's still overwhelming to me -- all these roles I play. Mother, daughter, friend, sister, author. There's the 'me' those girls in the group know. They know her real name, where she lives, the names of her children. They know the titles of her books, what she's working on right now, what she looks like, where she was born, what her voice sounds like. They know all these things. Yet, they know so little of who she is.

Because with them it's a game. It's a suck-it-up-and-bite-your-tongue-and-smile game. It's the gush-over-the-top-dogs game. It's the pretend-you're-somebody's-best-friend-and-bitch-behind-her-back game.

I know these games exist everywhere - not just in high school or writing. They run through all areas of life -- people are 'playing the game' in their jobs, in their families, in friendships, maybe even in their marriages. I often wonder if there are more out there like me. Maybe everyone's like me. Deep down maybe we all hate the drama. Hate the judgement. Hate the game.

Sometimes when I post here and see the view count grow and nobody says anything, I get panicky. I start worrying about saying something wrong or coming off like a know-it-all or too judgmental. I'll start to want to censor myself.

But then Daddy will stop and remind me, I write for him, not others. He wants the deep down real stuff. And he's given me a safe place to do that by moderating the comments to keep the judgment away.

Here, there is no game to play.

Aurora's not my real name and Daddy's no Phillip (but I think you know that). I can't share the names or details of the books I write. I have to be careful not to reveal too much about where I live and you'll never find a real picture of me.

But this is me -- the real me. Submissive, slave, little--they aren't roles I play. They are at the very core of me. I really am Aurora hiding behind my real name in my real life. And here...here I get to quit the game, step off the stage, take off the makeup...

I get to breathe...to live...

To exist.

Orgasm Denial

So in an effort to kick the 'little' out of my head today and talk about one of my favorite kinks or fetishes or whatever they're called, I'm calling Daddy 'D' on the blog today.

So the other day in writer's group (which sometimes feels like 'band camp') they got to talking about the most orgasms they've ever had. Once I admitted to having 20 once when everyone else was coming in around 3, I began to feel very freakish.

They all wanted my problem. So feeling slightly bad, I poured out way more TMI than I usually do with them. I admitted that I don't know why, but orgasming has always been abnormally super easy for me. But it's definitely a quality thing, not a quantity thing. They drop off in intensity after about 3 anyways so they're not missing anything.

What I didn't admit that was the time I had 20, it was part of a punishment for deliberately having one I wasn't supposed to have. Yeah, thought I better stop there.

I know lots of D/s relationships have orgasm control and we're no different, but early on 'D' discovered that denial has very positive effects on my submissiveness. So he's been doing over the past year on a semi-long term basis. I'm saying 'semi' because I know lots of subs have gone months and months, but the most D's denied me so far is 2 months.

I have a love/hate relationship with orgasm denial.

Hate it -- well for the obvious reasons. Plus D doesn't just say 'oh, no coming for you tonight' or anything simple like that. He does the tease & denial thing where he uses his fingers or tongue or whatever little torturous toy he can find to edge me over and over until all I can think about is that orgasm I'm not having. And sometimes when I reach that point where I just know I'm gonna explode with this burning need, he'll get this deliciously evil look in his eyes, climb on top, and make me watch as he takes what he's forbidden me. He'll do this day after day, week after week, until he's determined that I've had enough (which usually has been after 1-2 months). Then a night of release and it starts all over again.

It's cruel and frustrating, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it.

Maybe I'm wired wrong or was dropped on the head as a baby, but after an orgasm my sex drive drops about 100,000 feet. This is a bad thing, because usually when it drops like that, my insecurities and feelings of shame creep back in. I start building walls between us. I get bratty and emotional and very unsubmissive. D has been working on this by being 'super dom' in the days after he does let me have an O and that has been helping.

The love part comes during the actual denial though. Somewhere between the very edge of my frustration and possibly considering using my safeword, a switch flips in my brain. It's like I let go and fall into him. Suddenly the sex, this D/s, us...none of it is about the end result. It's about him -- pleasing him, loving him, existing for him. That's all that matters. I find that freedom I need to let go and be 'his greedy little slut'. Even outside of the bedroom,  he can touch me -- even just our skin brushing as he walks by me in the kitchen or hugs me when he gets home from work and it sends little tingly shivers shooting through me. It's like always living in the anticipation.

Sure yeah, orgasms are incredibly amazing (especially after going two months), and I'd hardly want to give them up. D's not too forthcoming about how long I have to wait between them although sometimes he's joked about a year (and although I know subs have done that I seriously hope I won't be joining them).

It's been four weeks since my last one though, so I asked him the other day if I'd get one before the year was over. Part of me was really hoping he'd say 'yes'. And another part of me was longing for a 'no'.

His answer....maybe.

Feeling A 'Little' Lost

When we started TTWD in 2012, it was as Master/slave dynamic. Daddy was called 'Sir' for the most part and my mind/headspace was constantly on pleasing him.

There was an exquisite joy in making his breakfast, doing his laundry, sucking his cock. I loved loved loved sitting at his feet. Our rituals held more significance -- I feel like I was striving harder and more focused on him. This slave part of me existed just for him.

Then this summer came and we delved into some really deep stuff. Dark and dirty secrets I'd withheld for so long came out. And the more they came out and the more Daddy accepted and loved me, the more my trust in him grew until he drew out this vulnerable 'little girl' side of me. Suddenly things were shifting -- I needed him to tuck me in at night. My happy place moved from the floor to curled up on his chest.

Daddy told me in September he thought I had a 'little' side. I freaked out. I realized DD/lg relationships aren't very well understood and are judged even in the kink community. It scares me to think of myself like this - I mean I'm in my late thirties.

Daddy has been encouraging me to explore this side though. He thinks it's always been there since way back in the beginning of our dating years. He says there's always been this innocent playful side to me that he's had this overwhelming need to protect since the day he met me (which is why he's held on through all the crap I put him through).

So we've been exploring it, and it's been both freeing and healing. I know it's a hard dynamic to understand and even harder to explain. For us, it's not an age-play, run around in pig-tails and short skirts and diapers thing. It's not a pedophile thing either -- I am still very much an adult. It's mostly about this safe place he's given me that allows me to be myself -- vulnerabilities and all.

The problem lately though is I feel like the 'little side' is taking over. She requires a lot more 'care' I think than the 'slave' side of me, and I don't like feeling like I'm high maintenance all the time. And although this part of me loves to make Daddy happy, it doesn't enjoy the 'service' side of things as much as that 'slave side'.

Daddy is very much a Daddy Dom. Even before I called him 'Daddy' he nurtured more than demanded. He says he identifies more as a Daddy Dom. So I know this is what he wants. And I'm very happy in the safety and comfort being his 'little girl' brings.

Daddy also still says I'm his 'slave'. I still do a lot of things for him on a daily basis. But to be honest lately I'd rather be cuddling than pleasing him. I'd rather be in his arms than on the floor. My pain tolerance has dropped. Even on this blog it shows -- I know my posts sound like an ten-year-old girl, but I know that's because that 'little' part just leaks out when I write about us.

I'm afraid I lost that 'slave headspace'. And I really, really miss her.

We've been talking about this lately-- he wants me to think about what and why I'm feeling like this. And any possible ideas that I think would help me.

I don't know...I keep running through new rituals or different names that might help. Then I stop and wonder if I'm really missing those 'slave' feelings or just insecure about the 'little girl' part of me. Then I realize that yeah, I do miss it very much. But if Daddy's right and this part has always been there then it was there when I was in that 'slave mindset' last year. So I bang my head against the wall and wonder why can't I get those feelings back? Ouch, that hurts.

I'm always his submissive, that hasn't changed. He leads, I follow. But why can't I seem to do it as both his 'little girl' and his 'slave'?

Sex, Shame, and My Inner Slut

Okay this post was hard to write - so please forgive me if I'm long and rambly.

This need of mine -- to submit-- has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. The fantasies about being tied up, being controlled, being enslaved started back in my childhood. I was drawn to my mom's romances about the pirates who would kidnap the girl and half her bosom would be hanging out on the front cover. The pictures of the chains wrapped around the ankles and wrists of the slaves in the story of Moses in my Bible called to me in very kinky ways (oh, please don't send me to hell for that one). And oh yeah there was that scene in Return of the Jedi with Princess Leia.  Heck, I even accidentally figured out how to give myself an orgasm around the time I learned to ride a bike. I say accidentally because I had no idea what it was at the time -- just that it was fun.

But at the same time as this was happening, I was growing up super-involved in a Christian church. We were there practically everyday of the week. I attended their school during the day. So pretty much every day faith, religion, and the idea that sex was some an extremely sacred act was being shoved down my throat. We were taught sex was something that happened in the confines of marriage and that things such as masturbation and fantasies were wrong and a way of 'cheating on your future spouse'. Those dirty little fantasies of mine --  I became deeply ashamed of them. I learned to bury them so deep so that nobody would ever know. I hid behind the façade that I was a good, sweet, innocent Aurora.

But in the back of my head I always felt God knew about them. And I think this made me even more ashamed of them.

About the time I hit junior high, my family moved to another state. My parents quit going to church and enrolled me in a public school. Going from the private school I grew up in to the public school at the time was like jumping in a lake when it's fifty degrees below zero.

Huge shock.

One of my very first friendships began with a girl I'm going to call Brittney (she would love that if she knew). Brittney was loud (what some would define as obnoxious), gutsy, and not afraid to speak her mind. About anything. She also had quite the kinky side and wasn't afraid to show it -- the majority of everything I learned about sex and kinky sex, I owe to her.

I was drawn to Brittney because she was everything I was not. Extroverted. Confident. Brave. But the closer we grew as friends, the more she let me in on her own insecurities. Brittney ran on the fringes of all those normal junior/high school cliques, never really quite fitting in anywhere. She was excluded because of her boldness. Constantly called names by the girls...expected to 'put out' by the boys.

If my religious background wasn't enough to shame me into hiding behind my 'good Aurora' image, being an observer to the constant slut-shaming Brittney experienced throughout her teen years pretty much sealed the deal. I became so good at hiding 'kinky me' that even Brittney (who I'm still friends with today) would never believe me if I told her about some of the stuff Daddy and I do now.

I ended up losing my virginity to my first boyfriend because I was tired of being that 'good Aurora'. I figured maybe it would help shed some of that image. Unfortunately though, the whole experience brought back a lot of that 'religious guilt' to the point that I got it in my head I could never be with anybody else now so I'd have to marry that particular boyfriend. (yes, I seriously thought this way). This was a disaster that ended one night with a bottle of peppermint schnapps and another guy who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. It's odd...looking back I can clearly see it as rape. But it was also an ending to this boyfriend being my 'one and only'.

This is what Daddy got when he got me. I was messed up -- so much shame and guilt over what I had done. I was in therapy for an eating disorder and to deal with lingering issues over a babysitter who had molested me when I was five. I had hacked off my hair, weighed less than 90 lbs, and was smoking terrible things. And I was still so ashamed of sex that I hated it.

Yeah, I was a real catch -- I really still have no clue what Daddy saw in me. Maybe he thought I'd be good in bed...ha!

I was both a terrible girlfriend and wife when it came to sex. Daddy likes to say that I gave up control to him in everything but the bedroom, and that makes sense. I didn't think about sex much. I didn't want it. I only did it for him, and I wasn't very good at hiding that fact. I preferred it lights out, missionary, quick, and without any cuddling. And please oh please don't try to give me an orgasm. Poor Daddy -- it kills me to think how much I hurt him throughout the years. I struggle with so much guilt over this.

Daddy will be the first to remind me that he's far from perfect. That he's made lots of mistakes and there were many times he hurt me deeply. And that it's not quite the sexual desert I remember it as. There were some good times where I actually was into it. Times where that dirty side slipped out, and he began to suspect that there was a kinky side to me. He remembers that the first time he ever brought me to an orgasm was when he handcuffed me to the bed. I asked him why he just didn't make me his slave right there and then (and saved him all that crazy heartache) and he'll tell me that I wasn't ready yet.

I've always been a slow learner. I guess I'm just lucky that Daddy's super patient. He could've...maybe should've...given up on me so long ago. But he didn't. He waited for me...he waited for that inner slut of mine to break loose.

And when she finally did, it was crazy. I think we had sex for the first month straight. Or at least it felt that way. It was freeing to finally be free from all the shame.

Once Daddy stopped spinning though, he took the control and slowed things down a little bit. I began to learn that being Daddy's slut isn't just about the sex. Oh that part's great -- very great. So great that I weep for all those lost years. But being Daddy's slut means that I've finally been able to open up, to let him in, to love him with everything inside of me. To stop hiding and let him see everything.

I've come a long way, but I still struggle with this shame sometimes. It slips out. I get insecure. I find myself getting embarrassed. I struggle with writing sex or about sex. I have trouble being naked. I still feel the shame whenever I share a new fantasy with him.

When the insecurities come, so does that 'good Aurora' shell that I perfected all those years ago.But Daddy doesn't let it stay. He fought too hard to break that shell, he's not about to let it come back.

It's a day to day thing sometimes -- but I trust him.

No more 'good Aurora'.

Online Limits

Daddy controls the time I spend online. Usually when he's home, it's his time and family time. No blogging, surfing the web, or hanging out with my writer friends on Facebook. There's more time and flexibility for that during the weekdays and sometimes even during the evenings. But weekends are different. There's shopping, cleaning, and church. Daddy and I have a 'date night'. Any sewing I do happens on the weekend. Sometimes I get time to glance at my phone, but never for too long or else Daddy will take it away.

It's a good thing to be semi-unplugged. I enjoy being there in the moment with him and our girls. But I'm also supposed to blog on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so it's a bad thing for Monday mornings if I don't have blog post already written and scheduled before the weekend.

Like I didn't do last Friday. Eeeeep.

Daddy not only limits my time online, but he also limits (somewhat) what I can do. He moderates this blog and the comments. He tracks where I go online. And he controls what I can do when I'm online too.

I have a habit of googling everything. Sometimes this a very helpful and useful habit. It's research for my writing. It's helped fix the garbage disposal. It makes a great spell check. But every time I get a weird symptom, I also google it. And before you know it I've diagnosed myself with cancer or am convinced I'm having a heart attack. And I know I'm not the only one out there who does this...

This drives Daddy crazy. So much so, that now he's banned WebMD and googling 'health related' topics. Not only that, apparently he's blocked the site too.

He says he would prefer I'd be diagnosed by a real doctor instead of Dr. Aurora.

On Being His Slave

When Daddy first proposed the whole Master/slave dynamic, I had visions of 24/7 nakedness while on my knees. Thank goodness it's nothing like that! We have kids after all and we live in a place that gets very cold in the winter. My knees are getting older and not really up to lots of kneeling.

Daddy's a pretty laid back guy. So even though I'm his slave, we don't do a lot of the high protocol stuff. He doesn't care if I sit on the furniture. I don't have to ask permission to use the bathroom. He doesn't tell me what to wear everyday.

That's not to say he doesn't control things. I do have to ask permission to eat certain foods or leave the house. I'm not allowed to spend money without asking. He tells me when bedtime is. And even though he doesn't choose my clothes, he has his input there--he likes me to dress like 'very girly' which to him means skirts and dresses everyday. 

And I do end up at his feet naked every night as part of our bedtime ritual. But it's not an all day thing and usually by then I'm in my very happy subby place.

As we go along, Daddy has added more and more. I do like his control -- everything he adds just makes me feel safer and more secure. Like he's put me in this little box that grows tighter and tighter with his control.

But sometimes I wonder if I'll someday end up being that 24/7 naked, kneeling slave who has to ask to pee.

And as much as I love his control, sometimes I kinda hope that's not where we're headed. Because I'm a freeze baby with the world's weakest bladder. Lol.

But I also know that ultimately, that's really not up to me.

Harder Than It Ought To Be

This past month has been a busy one for us. Daddy got a new job. I had some unexpected things happen at mine. We had to go out of town to my grandma's funeral. Daddy and our oldest went away hunting for a weekend. There has been a lot going on and Daddy has been very tired.

I know Daddy puts a lot of work into us. It's tiring enough to run your own life, and to add somebody else's on top of that. Plus he's learning a new, very different, much busier job. Lots going on with him, and I know this is a time where he needs me to be patient. But when I get stressed and overwhelmed, that's when I need Daddy's dominance the most. 

 

Last Wednesday was one of those days. It was a stressful day, and I got some bad news that I wasn't dealing with so well. Plus it was that time of month where my emotions run away from me so I was not in a good place. 

Daddy's number one rule is honesty. He's not a fan of brattiness. I'm supposed to tell him how I'm feeling at all times. Sometimes I'm good at this. Other times...not so much. And last Wednesday was not one of those 'good times'. Daddy had a stressful day too and had some last minute stuff dumped on him that he needed to worry about getting done the next morning.

 

So I was feeling guilty for needing him so much. I could tell he was tired and distracted, and instead of telling him how I was feeling, I thought maybe I'd just sleep things off and feel better about everything the next morning.

 

Usually we have some kind of playtime and spanking every night. But because he was tired and I told him I was too, we skipped it that night and went to bed early. Daddy had to be in the office super early the next morning and although I usually get up and make him breakfast, this morning he let me sleep in.

I don't like waking up alone. And even worse, I woke up still stressed and anxious. Everything seemed a thousand times worse and I couldn't shut off my thoughts. It's hard for me to keep my feelings from Daddy long, and he tends to pick up on it anyways. So they did all eventually come out over Thursday and Friday -- in very messy, emotional, and somewhat explosive ways.

 

I read a blog post by lil at Submissive Sanctuary about feeling like work. Gosh I love it when I read a post that puts into words exactly what I've been feeling (and can't). I hate the idea that I could be more work for Daddy. That after his hard day, he has to fix mine too.

 

I told him this and he reminded me that things are a lot less work when we do them 'his way'. If I had just been honest in the first place, we'd have had a lot easier Thursday and Friday.

 

Oy. I do sometimes have a bad habit of making things harder than they ought to be.

Where We've Been, Where We're Going

Although Daddy and I are very new to the whole M/s dynamic, we've always had sort of a 'unofficial' power exchange of sorts throughout our relationship.

He thinks for him it's because of how he grew up. His dad was always the one in charge, and his mom went along with it. For me, I think it's because of how I grew up too -- I learned early on I did not want my parent's mess of a marriage. Instead I hoped to be more like my grandparents, who had what I think of as an old-fashioned marriage.

Daddy really reminded me of my grandpa. He had to be in the driver's seat -- both literally and figuratively (although he did once let me drive from one exit to the next during a road trip). He held the remote, monitored the bank account and budget, paid the bills, and handled the outside chores. We tended to watch the TV shows he likes, eat at the restaurants he preferred, and shopped where he wanted to shop.

That's the way it's always been for us. Even back to the beginning of our marriage. Even on some really minor things. Like spaghetti noodles. I grew up with my mom breaking them before cooking them. His mom didn't break them. So we don't break the spaghetti noodles.

And before I start making Daddy sound like controlling or something, I should say it wasn't like that. There were no barking orders or harsh words. He's an introvert, very laid back, and generous to a fault. Throughout our marriage, most of his decisions have been about making me happy. For a guy, he's one of the most thoughtful gift givers I know. He's also had an uncanny way of knowing what I was thinking and feeling before I do. He likes to say it's because he's been studying me for 18 plus years.

Not to say we didn't have power struggles--because we did (and still do). Not to say I didn't get annoyed with things always having to go 'his way'. Not to say he didn't 'give in' a lot too.

But this is how it was for us...outside of the bedroom anyways.

So when we went M/s, I figured it would mostly be about fixing the sexual side of things. The only real change would be about having more sex---especially since I had so many years to make up for. I mean, we already had this 'he leads, I follow' thing down. Easy, breezy, right?

Wrong.

It seems like since we began this journey over a year ago, we're always changing. We'll get to right where I think we're supposed to be, where he wants us to be, and then something will happen and we're shifting again. Sometimes we're moving forward, deeper. Sometimes it's like it's all blowing up in our faces and we're taking a step or two back.

This past summer was a big time of moving forward for us. For the first time in our marriage, we had a month with no kids -- just us. And while yes the sex was a lot of fun, the best part of our time together was how much we talked and talked and talked. About everything. One weekend Daddy declared it a 'trip to the past' where we opened up about any questions we've always had or things we may have kept from each other. It was a chance to really clear any walls between us and although it brought a few painful moments, it brought us closer to each other than we've ever been.

After our month together, we went away on vacation and were joined by our kids. It was a nice break and we were in a really good place. I was worried about coming home, though. The summer was nearly over and there would be school and jobs. How would they affect this new bond we had formed?

But Daddy had a plan -- he always seems to have a plan. And although our time is less and we've been dealing with this 'limbo', I feel just as close to him as ever. Maybe it's because of all those walls we destroyed.

However over the past few weeks or so, we've been shifting again. New feelings, new realizations, new healing that came out of clearing out the past. Stuff I'm not quite able to put into words yet, but I hope to. Daddy sees a new path for us, one he wants to take. He asked me if I'm ready, since he's not about to drag me down it, and I think I am. But I'm also a little bit scared to leave this good place we found.

I've been feeling so vulnerable lately. Mostly in a good way--like I'm growing and moving forward. But still very vulnerable.

And it's funny to me that I once thought this was just going to be about the sex.

Free to Be Me

There's a friend of mine who's been in my life since I was 12 years old. She's an extravert -- bold, fearless, and not afraid to speak her mind. Yet I'm convinced that if she weren't vanilla, she'd be a submissive.

Oh, I don't know for sure. I don't even know if she's vanilla (although it wouldn't surprise me if she wasn't considering she's responsible for the majority of my sexual education during junior high). But anyways, over the years, I've watched her bold personality melt into someone more eager-to-please whenever her current love interest was around.

I've heard this isn't uncommon. That there are lots of strong, vibrant women who'd you never guess as being submissive.

I am not one of them.

Spend a few minutes with me in real life--maybe even less--and you'll know I'm submissive. I have an extremely passive personality. I'm kinda like a classic doormat. I've always been this way since I can remember. Quiet, shy, afraid of conflict. Never wanting to offend people. Always wanting to make others happy. I followed rules, colored within the lines, and submitted to anyone who gave off a hint of authority.

But I had a not-in-a-good-way controlling father, overbearing mother, and friends who always put me in the middle of their fights. I learned quickly that it's hard to please everybody.

So, I learned to hate this part of myself. Really, really hate it. Not that I could escape it.

The need to please has overwhelmed me through the years. My parents, friends, in-laws, co-workers...  I could never say no. I would resent it, hate it, rage internally, but I couldn't say no.  And time and time again, I became a doormat.

But not by Philip.


Since 'officially' submitting to him, he reminds me often that the only person I need to please is him. He's given me a place where this 'need' I have is not only filled, but accepted, loved, cherished, and needed by him too.

And he's not letting me be a doormat. In my job, with my friends, with my writing. Even with commenting and blogging here in blogland. I've been lurking in the shadows for over a year, and Philip decided it was time I stepped out of the corner.

He's teaching me to not only accept that part of myself, but love it as well.

For the first time in my life, I'm finding the freedom to finally be me.

How It Began Part Two

If I had known then what I know now, I may have never sent Phillip that e-mail.  I may have realized the risks—that I was revealing a deep part of myself he might not accept.

He could reject me. Tell me I was abnormal. Or weird. Or crazy.

So many risks.

But I didn’t realize that when I hit send. I was nervous—pounding heart, churning stomach--, but I never really thought things through about how he would react.

I just hit send.

And lucky for me he didn’t freak out. He didn’t call me crazy.

No, he came home early from work that night and made some of those fantasies I had written about in the e-mail come true.

Over the next few days, weeks, and months, our entire relationship shifted. Sex finally came to the forefront. We explored new things together and grew in ways I never thought possible. We played lots of ‘D/s games’…we had a special bracelet I wore when feeling submissive, we had special rules, special nights of the week. We even had an entire day of D/s when the kids were gone. It was all just ‘bedroom stuff’, but it was good and we were happy.

And then came his e-mail.

Unbeknownst to me, Philip had been doing some reading and research of his own. And about six months after I sent my e-mail, he sent one proposing a 24/7 power exchange. I didn’t hesitate to agree.

In the beginning I was anxious and wanted to jump in. He wanted a slower pace. This led to some early bumps, but once I learned to let go and follow, things got easier. The road hasn’t always been perfectly smooth—we’ve had our growing pains. We’ve had some pretty big fights—and even a few times where we’ve had to step back from things.

When he brought up the power exchange, I didn’t think it would be a big shift to our relationship. He’d always been the ‘one to where the pants’ anyways. But I was wrong.

TTWD has changed EVERYTHING in our relationship. What I once thought was a happy marriage pales in comparison to how we are now. I’ve never felt this close to anyone, this in safe with someone, this in love with someone.  Even our dating days. Or our wedding day.

I don’t know exactly what we are. DD, Taken In Hand, M/s, D/s. We’re a little bit of all of it, I think. And a few months ago, he even became Daddy. Not as an age thing, but because it fits. He’s everything these days. My protector, my friend, my shoulder to cry on, my guide, my support, my safe place to fall.

Maybe we’re just us, making our own little place under the TTWD umbrella and waking wake up every day thankful that I sent that e-mail.

And that this---whatever it is---began.

How It Began Part One

I was barely out of high school when I met my husband, Phillip. He was the rebound off of my first serious relationship. Only he didn't want to be a rebound. I was a mess, but he didn't care. He picked me up, dusted me off, and four years later in the front of a church filled with friends and family, he made me his wife.

We had two amazing children, photo albums full of memories, and a long history of trust and friendship. We were happy.

Or so I thought.

In the months leading up to our tenth anniversary, I knew something was wrong. Phillip was growing quiet and withdrawn. I persisted and when the truth came out, I was forced to face what had been missing in our marriage from day one.

Sex. He wanted it. I didn't. I don't want to say we were in a sexless marriage, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't pretty darn close. I 'put out' what I thought was enough to keep him happy, but to me it was a chore, something to get through. I did it for him -- it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed. And he knew that.

I don't know why I was that way. Maybe it was my overzealous religious upbringing that had me believe I should only have sex with the man I marry (and husband was sexual partner #3 for me). Or maybe it was because I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse. I don't know. All I do know is that I had built up thick walls around any sexual part of me.

Phillip tried to break them down. Over and over he tried. He encouraged me to share my fantasies. He tried toys and games. He listened for hours, constantly reassuring me, as I cried over my childhood incidents. But those walls refused to budge, and after a decade of ramming into them, he was tired. I was losing him.

I remember how frozen I was as I watched him pack for a 'weekend to get away and think'. I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't know how to break those walls for him. At the last minute, he asked me to join him and something inside of me wanted to fight for this -- for us.

In a hotel room in one of our favorite places on earth, I first let my submissive side out to play. I gave him some of his fantasies and for the first time, really enjoyed doing it. It was an amazing weekend and things did get better when we came home.

During this time, I began to pursue a lifelong dream of mine to be an author. I wrote a book. I revised and revised and revised that book. I reached out and joined writer's groups, made writing friends, formed critique partner relationships. I started a blog, entered contests, attended a writer's conference. I queried agents, celebrated some success, dealt with a lot of rejection. Phillip was there, every step of the way. He read several drafts, helped me query, made dinner, took the kids to their activities so I could write. He was perfect. And we were happy.

Or so I thought.

It took a long time for me to find the courage to finally admit to those I'm close to that writing a book was a dream of mine. Even longer for me to begin to reach out and pursue it. And finding the courage to share my writing -- that was nearly impossible. I took so much courage, that I think somewhere during the process, some of the walls of insecurity and doubt I had built over my life began to tumble down.

One hot summer night, while Phillip was working and the kids were sleeping, those walls I built to suppress my sexual self came tumbling down. Behind them were all the fantasies I hid -- the ones I'd had since childhood. Ones about force, about pain, about being controlled. They turned me on, intrigued me, and scared me. They went against everything I'd ever been taught to believe. For far too long they made me feel twisted and dirty.

That's why I hid them away. But not that night. The walls were down, the dam was broken. They overwhelmed me and I wrote several of them down in an e-mail.

I addressed it to Phillip. And I hit send.

Here I Am

I think the first blog post can be the hardest to write. I've written one before, on another blog in another corner of the web, but it wasn't as hard as this one. Probably because even though you won't find my real name here, this is more "me" than anything else I've ever posted online before.

So who am I? I'm a wife. I'm a mother. I'm a daughter, a sister, a friend. I'm a writer and a reader. I love chocolate, popcorn, and sleeping in. I like baking and sewing. I prefer the color pink. I wish I could sing.

But that's not why I'm here.

I'm here because I love that He is in control. I love it when He spanks me. I love sitting at His feet and feeling His fingers stroke my hair. I love hearing the words 'good girl'. I love the sight of the bruises He leaves on my skin. I love the rules He gives me. I love that He pulls my hair when I'm out of line.

I love how safe I feel cuddled into His arms.

I love being His.

I'm here because there's nobody I can tell - well nobody who would get it anyways. Except maybe for blogland. I've been lurking for a long time now, secretly reading and learning from so many amazing blogs out there, but it's getting too lonely being a lurker.

I have way more to learn than I have to offer. But here I am.