Flooded with relief and gratitude.
That was my initial feeling when I saw DH waiting there at arrivals, after 10 days and two worlds apart.
In spite of the witness of others from my group, I lost myself in DH’s wonderful arms and gave him a long, passionate, pressed to him, tonsillectomy kiss. God, it was so good to be back in his arms, to be kissed hard.
This trip was difficult for me on many different levels, which shocked me and rocked me. After all, I’ve spent many years traveling and living in the third world, even in this very same poorest country in the hemisphere. There were the discomforts I knew and have experienced before: little electricity, stifling heat, poor sleep, primitive sanitary and bathing facilities; and really horrible food this time (like the smell of an open sewer food…). Heavy lifting and difficult physical labor. A bad belly for most of the time. The deprivations were compounded by the poor organization of our mission, and not feeling productive. The poverty and need of the people we served overwhelmed me this time, left me feeling hopeless and helpless to make a difference. Compound this with some difficult and passive-aggressive/ combative personalities all within close quarters for 10 days… and yeah, it sadly was an experience I hope fades into a distant memory very soon.
Add to this a weird rash. Down THERE. Yeah, DOWN THERE. Ugh.
All through this trip I kept asking God to reveal to me His plan and purpose for me, the lesson I was to learn. Patience and humility for sure (not the easiest lessons). Maybe a little surrender in circumstances where control was not to be realized. I felt like the purpose of this trip remained shrouded up until I stood impatiently waiting for the baggage to appear at our ultimate destination, anxious to forget this experience.
When I saw DH and felt his arms around me, I finally got the lesson. Maybe not the one I expected or thought was the “appropriate big God plan.”
In Sir’s arms is where I belong; His arms I will always return to.
When we cuddled last night; as he took me this morning; my heart rejoiced that I was his.
And that he was here waiting for me.
DH IS my first world, my last world, my whole world.
It was a gorgeous, cool morning yesterday. Our 4 mile walk would incorporate a few errands along the way, last minute purchases for my journey to the third world. My friend Angel has a great date jar idea, and this is one I’ll put in our jar: Target sodas and popcorn. Came in under $4. That makes DH very happy. I was pretty good, just about 3 handfuls and a diet coke. Hey, 4 miles should have burned it?
As my flight leaves at zero dark 5 am… ugh… (this means deciding whether to sleep a few hours or stay up, since we need to leave for the airport in the middle of the night), I realized I should pack some healthy snacks as the airport vendors even have the good sense to not be open at that ungodly hour. Our local store doesn’t always carry them, but lo and behold, my VERY VERY favorite Cortland apples. Not on my diet in the least, but better than a muffin. Of course, I needed to taste-test one to make sure it was OK…
Oh, and what have we here? Why, there was some dulce de leche (aka caramel!!) loitering in my pantry.
Grateful for these simple things: walks on cool mornings, popcorn and cokes, and sweet juicy fall apples. The health to enjoy these things, my Sir by my side. In my bed. Between my knees…
Oh, and this… Sir gave me an afternoon to remember…
He’s become quite skilled with wielding this baby, among other things… it was a blindfolded, two-toy playtime today, resulting in three explosive Os, being taken before I could stop trembling, and some more Os, and this young lady is thoroughly well flogged and F**ked. Whoa. Still tingling.
DH will be staying home for this trip. I will really miss him, but he says he has lots of projects to keep him busy. Just in case, I left him with a stack of books for “research purposes.” Most of what Sir knows about D/s or BDSM is from me and his instincts (unless he’s not telling me about independent research). I’d love for him to read, research, and form some thoughts/ideas/fantasies of his own. The books were recommended by helpful Doms (The Control Book and SM101; along with volumes 2 and 3 of FSOG… where has volume 1 gone?) Maybe when I return I’ll be the “naughty librarian?”
I’ll miss blogging, and keeping up with all of you! See you in a couple weeks.
DH outdid himself last night. He served up THE most delicious buffet of sensory treats I’ve had in a while.
A day or so ago, I had seen a lovely picture on Love With Domination of a man with a flogger. It made me hungry for that flogger. We’d acquired one many, many months ago, however DH never seemed to want to use it, and it had only had a few tentative tries to date. I knew I wanted to feel it’s leather tendrils on my skin. So I asked him,
“Pretty please, may we have the flogger soon?”
He set the time for playing for Friday evening. He kept teasing through the day by pretending Freudian’s slips with the words frog-flog in his conversation.
“Sir, when you utter the word “flog” or “flogger,” it has a very delicious affect on my pussy…” I said as I squirmed.
He continued with the funny Freudian’s slips. Humor is the sure sign that he’s nervous about something new.
Now loving, serving, helpful (control-freak) wife and sub that I am, it crossed my mind that DH probably was uncomfortable and obviously unfamiliar with the use and application of a flogger. Hey, so was I! I’ve read about its use, and I thought gee, maybe that would help DH a little, to read up on how it’s used. In my quick Google searches, what I found was a video of a guy demonstrating flogging “technique,” and bless his little Dom heart, I just couldn’t stop laughing. I know the guy had good intentions, but it was just weird. Especially when he dropped it. I might have edited that part out. Nope. This would have just played to DH’s humor side and the hilarity might have derailed us altogether.
Instead, I forwarded THE picture to DH, and told him I was looking forward to tonight.
As I left for my meeting at church he said, “So we’ll have dinner when you return and then watch a movie?”
I had already stepped out the door when his words hit me. What? No playing? But… but…
“I’m sorry, Sir, did you say dinner and movie?” I stepped back in the house to clarify. I’m sure he noticed my pout and the disappointment in my voice.
“Yes,” he responded firmly with a Dom face.
Crap. I didn’t have time for a bratty meltdown. As much as I wanted to stomp my little foot, whine, and remind him of his promise to play, I had to get to my meeting.
“Oh,” I managed in a little, sorta sad-sounding voice. “OK, I’ll see you in an hour.”
The meeting got on my nerves. Well, face it. I left home thinking playtime was canceled or forgotten, so I’m sure this affected my mood. The meeting also piled my head with too much crap, stuff I had to get done before a deadline. I began sending DH texts with lists of things, prefacing it with “Please help me remember…”
Then his terse phone call message (that luckily I missed).
“Why are you sending me all this stuff?”
Nope. I was not in a good frame of mind when I got home. He bade me to sit on the couch next to him. He knew my mood had grown foul. He tried to calm me down, gave me a choice of what I wanted– to eat dinner? Go take a bath? Go take care of the to-do list that was clogging my brain? I had to de-clutter my brain, that was for sure. It would only take a little while, and then we’d eat. I wasn’t even sure what the fuck was going on with playtime, but I sure the hell wasn’t in the mood now.
I walked into the bedroom to drop my shoes… and there was naughty stuff laid out on the bed. Fun stuff.
And the flogger. I pretended not to look or notice.
Cause Damn, my mood had really turned sour.
An hour later, I sat on the edge of the bed not sure of what I wanted. I believe I wanted my Dom to just tell me what I wanted. And he did.
I was undressed and kissed and laid back on the bed. He wove his hands into my hair, and tugged a little (another new move for him… ahhh, so good!). My knees were pushed back as his tongue went to work for a little tease. I was then flipped to my belly.
The symphony of sensations that followed were amazing. He was a Maestro. The tendrils of the flogger tickled, teased and bit sweetly into my flesh. Then the fur glove skimmed across my stinging skin, followed by a light tickle of the silk scarf– up and down my legs, inside my thighs, my back. Then Swish! The flogger would come down again. His palm would crack. I didn’t know his music, the rhythm was unfamiliar and chaotic and unexpected. I didn’t know when it would tickle, soothe or bite.
It was delicious.
It was just what I needed.
I felt my mind clear and I thought to myself, THIS is what does it, THIS is what gets the cobwebs and crap out of my mind, all THIS wonderful, intense sensation.
And him delivering it.
How does he know this?
I don’t care, just be in control, Sir. Decide what my body needs.
By the time he pulled me to my knees and entered me, I was in “our space” only. Nothing else was bouncing around in my mind other than the pleasure of his very hard, thick cock slamming into me (A LONG TIME!), his body and my body together.
May I just say, it was a good night after all?
And… that… I LOVE THE FLOGGER!!!!
And in the immortal words of Oliver: “Please sir, may I have some more!?”
I went to bed quite late last night. I’d gotten caught up in reading a new blog, something I tell myself I have no time for. I like following the dozen or so subbie blogs I’ve come to love, they are like home to me. Safe, warm, fun, kinky ladies (and a few husbands) I can relate to.
This new blogger pulled me in immediately with her blog name: 50 Shades of Saved. I wonder if she’s in marketing? Her hook was effective on me. 50 Shades–the book—evokes a whole host of feelings for many of us. “Saved,” as in God? (her subtitle is “How my journey as a submissive lead me closer to God”).
Yes, she definitely had an effective hook. Moreover, she is a fabulous writer and, well, her stories are compelling and fascinating. The stuff of fantasies with an incredibly dangerous edge, where everyone (so far) seems to come out OK.
And she’s a renaissance woman (intelligent, multilingual, obviously well-read, knows her music and theatre…), divorced mom of 3 kids who is searching for her Dom. Very actively searching, I might add. I’ve “only” read her first 3 months of posts (since June 2014), fascinated and riveted to know more about her and her journey… and where God is in her journey. I’d like to say we’re kindred spirits, but she has a pithy and concise writing style that I can only dream of having. And she’s a free agent—willing to take (IMHO) some enormous risks to indulge her kink and BDSM longings.
Risks. Danger. Fear. BDSM. Doms. Scary scenes. Intense pleasure in which you feel like you’ll break apart. Throw all this late-night reading into the hopper with a malaria pill (notorious for giving one vivid and or disturbing dreams), and I woke up quite agitated. My thoughts were swirling around in my head on this topic of kink and “edge,” of that burning need to push the envelope of pain and fear. All wrapped up in a nice box called trust.
In my long-single 20s, I stumbled into a few edgy BDSM-type trysts, and a couple relationships (at a time when that term was not common nor was there an internet to read up on it; nom de plume Pauline Réage’s The Story of O was the closest thing to a manual out there). They were intense roller coaster rides, thrilling, scary, dark, and life-affirming.
Some of us kinksters need to get to the precipice of insane to fire off that life-affirming endorphin, I guess.
However for the most part I lived in denial of my “dark desires.” I had labeled them as “wrong,” “deviant,” and unfitting of a Christian woman who desired monogamy, marriage, and babies. I was a professional career woman at the time, and the thought that I’d be “outted” for my deviance was horrifying. I more or less convinced myself that I couldn’t be kinky if I ever hoped to excel in my career, and find true love with a “nice” man (to that point, my sadists had been true sadists. They manipulated me and my heart, and had left behind a mess). And perish the thought that this educated, traveled, savvy, strong, smart, in-control “renaissance” woman would ever submit to a man anywhere outside a bedroom (I loved FSS’s self-characterization of being a Marine in one of her posts, I so related).
So fast-forward 30-odd years. The 20 year marriage to a good man, the 3 kids, a cute new career befitting a suburban housewife. Our house was a very, very fine house. With two cats in the yard. The “dream.” And I was miserable. Everything was NOT easy.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved being a mom, love my children, and felt incredibly blessed that they had an awesome, responsible father. He took care of all of us. We had a good life, we didn’t want, we had fun, we lived in utopia. We attended a decent church where at times we actually felt fed (although I’ll admit more often than not we found ourselves to be among spiritual babies rather than giants, a scary thought when we ourselves most certainly were not so advanced in our Christian walks). But something was missing.
I was not being true to myself. This amazing man wanted to marry me and take care of me; I couldn’t believe my “luck” that at 34 God would have
brought a sane, responsible, kind man into my life, given me wonderful babies and a good home, and keep me safe and protected. I tried to repay this boon by become “normal” and trying to give him the gift of a good wife without a checkered past or kinky, dark thoughts. I didn’t reveal to him my inner desires for kink… no, my “need” for edge and kink. As chronicled in this blog, our sex life dwindled to nothing over the years, because I couldn’t face him with who I really was. Trust that he would accept me as I was, let alone enjoy me as I was.
Despite all of the reasons I had to trust him, I didn’t trust him. I grew to intensely disrespect and “dislike” him because of my own secrets. Secrets will do that to you. You throw out rogue cold prickles, the decoy counter-missiles, to throw off his heat-seeking missiles from finding the target, the truth of you. It’s too painful to own up to being “deviant” and to risk rejection. So I just persisted in disliking him and disrespecting him. And I persisted in being the image of what I thought I had to be: the strong, take-charge, in-control woman. The Marine. The CIA agent. How else could I keep my fortress walls strong?
Yeah, it didn’t work. I was miserable. I ate myself 90 pounds more miserable. He was miserable, ever-loyal, albeit wounded and hurt. Occasional Vanilla had become a tasteless snow cone with no flavor—it wasn’t even worth the energy to take your panties off. Warmth and affection were gone. Our kids did not witness a loving, trusting marriage, and I was later to learn, as they became teens they held pow-wows on which parent each would “go with” when we inevitably split, and who was to blame (we “adults” had thought ourselves so clever, believing we’d “hidden” our mutual distain from the kids by rarely fighting, “acting” respectful in front of them, focusing our love and devotion in on them. What they had witnessed was a cold, silent war).
Crazy, hard to admit, but 50 Shades saved me. It “legitimized” what I had perceived as a warped deviance, and led me to research it more. To find out that doctors, lawyers, teachers, politicians, CPAs, pilots, PhDs, dental hygienists, Christians, mommies and daddies… all manner of law-abiding, lawn-cutting, PTO-attending “normal” people… enjoyed this gift of kink, BDSM, D/s. Sadly, most of us couldn’t “come out” to the world about our desired dynamic—but most of us could dredge up the vulnerability to admit it to a significant other. And begin a journey.
50 Shades “outted” me to my husband. And we are stumbling through what all that means in our marriage. All I can say is that in the 2 years and 3 months that this has been out on the table here in our home, things are infinitely, amazingly, fabulously better. Not perfect, not full-on D/s or BDSM, but better. I love and respect my husband like never before and I feel he loves me like never before. Trust is building. Fun is happening. Secrets desires are being aired. The waters of kink have been tested. I crave so very much more, to be taken to the very edge… and I believe that DH can do this for us.
At least now I tell him the truth.
We’re “old dogs” here (56 and 60, trapped in much younger minds and bodies!), trying to learn new tricks. Some may say it can’t be done. I know in my heart that we have to learn these new tricks, I pray we can. I need the risks. Danger. Fear. BDSM. Dom. Scary scenes. Intense pleasure in which you feel like you’ll break apart. Roller coaster rides, thrilling, scary, dark, and life-affirming.
The precipice of insane.
All wrapped up in the safety-net arms of my loving Dom, my man, my husband.
Here’s the recipe. Trust me, if it has more than about 5 steps I usually won’t go for it, but this is worth it! It’s the draining part that takes a little more time. The trick I’ve found is to make a big batch, bake the crusts in individual potions (I usually get four small rounds from this recipe), and freeze it in a ziploc with waxed paper between. Then you can put what you want on it )and that’s where you decide how many calories you want to add– I usually keep a small jar of sundried tomato pesto and a bag of low-fat mozzarella and/or parmesan in the fridge, put it on very sparingly, maybe a few veggies) and pop it in your toaster oven for about 3-5 minutes. I’ve tried other gluten-free recipes, and if you’re using a grain it still gives you a lot of carbs; I happen to love cauliflower, but once it’s in pizza crust the gas pains were horrible for me. I also don’t know if the calories include the toppings or not, but the low carbs sell this one to me; also paleo, gluten free, can be vegan. I also notice this lady has a newer recipe making it with quinoa, I’ll be trying that too).
Zucchini Pizza Crust
Author: Lauren Goslin
Prep time: 45 mins
Cook time: 38 mins
Total time: 1 hour 23 mins
- 2 c. zucchini, finely grated, lightly packed
- ½-3/4 c. almond meal
- 1 egg, lightly beaten, (vegans, use a chickpea egg: 4 T. chickpea flour + 4 T. water)
- 1 T. avocado oil (or another high smoke point oil such as walnut or coconut)
- ½ t. oregano
- ¼ t. garlic powder
- ⅛ t. salt (you don’t need much because the zucchini will retain some)
- Place the grated zucchini in a strainer.
- Sprinkle the zucchini with some salt, toss it to disperse.
- Place the strainer over a large bowl, and let the zucchini drain for about 30 minutes.
- Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
- Place the grated zucchini into a dry dish towel, and wring the towel over the sink until the water from the zucchini is squeezed out.
- Mix all of the ingredients together in a bowl.
- Add almond meal as needed to make a dough (not too wet, not too dry).
- On a parchment-lined baking sheet, spread the zucchini mix out into an oval shape. I use a fork to do this, and I press it down to compact it as well.
- Place the pan on the bottom rack of the oven and bake for 20 minutes.
- Then place the pan on the top rack of the oven for about 8 minutes, until browned.
- Remove the pan and flip the crust.
- Bake for another 5 minutes.
- Remove the crust.
- Turn the oven up to 500 degrees.
- Top the pizza with sauce or pesto, cheese, vegetables….whatever floats your pizza boat!
- Place the pan back into the oven on the bottom rack and bake for 3-4 minutes. Again, place the pan on the top rack for about 2 minutes.
- Remove and let cool for 5-10 minutes to let everything set.
Slice and enjoy!!The nutrition facts is based on 1 cup of almond meal and 1 chicken egg. Weight Watchers points (new system): 6Serving size: 3 Calories: 223 Fat: 17.8 g Saturated fat: 1.7 g Unsaturated fat: 16.1 g Trans fat: 0 g Carbohydrates: 10.4 g Sugar: 2.7 g Sodium: 223 mg Fiber: 5.2 g Protein: 9.7 g Cholesterol: 55 mg
Recipe by Oatmeal with a Fork at http://www.oatmealwithafork.com/2012/08/28/zucchini-pizza-crust-and-wiaw/