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Desired or Respected?

April 23, 2015

Sir Knight and I had a great talk today.  Air cleared.  Misunderstandings fixed.  Kiss and make up. And sexy time.

And as much as I can regret having my spiral or overreacting, it has led to good things.  I calmed down and didn’t attack.  I slept on it.  And then I asked to talk.  We had forgotten the importance of continuing to have purposeful communication times regularly.  And it was also good to know we could talk, take off the gloves, hear each other respectfully.  We didn’t need to retreat into our corners, pout, lick our wounds, stay hurt, and be mean.  We are so over that latter model of conflict.

To be quite honest… he did not engage on the “too much work” topic, because he says he doesn’t even remember saying that about me, much less feeling it.  Hmmm.  I’m not going to split hairs here, I did hear it, and perhaps it was meant as a joke.  The bottom line, is that he says he does not feel that way, and I am worth any amount of effort (which is how I feel about him).  We also just essentially acknowledged the many, many ways in which we are different, and the varied ways in which we approach things.

As we talked, it occurred to me.  It’s always been very clear from all quarters, all research, all knowledgeable sources, that men want respect above all else.  But I still asked him.

“Two words, SK.  Desired?  Or Respected?  Which resonates most strongly for you?”

“Well, both…” he diplomatically answered.

I clarified.  “Not one to the exclusion of the other, but which ranks higher for you?

“I guess I’d say respect.”

“That’s what I thought.  Of course, everyone wants to feel respected, that’s a no brainer.  Women want that too.  And everyone likes to feel desired.

“But in a relationship, between the two, I think many women would say that being desired is the stronger need.  We want to feel desired first and foremost.”

(In a committed relationship, I believe love and desire can be used synonymously… being desired is a prime way we feel loved; and although most women love feeling desired, if that’s ALL there is in a relationship, it can get old).

He had told me (from reading my blog!) that I tend to be reflective about things, i.e., see the world as it reflects from me.  I don’t disagree, however I do sort of wonder isn’t the case for most people? He assets that guys don’t think this way always, they’re very compartmentalized and outward/forward thinking.

Springboarding from this though, I was able to describe it to him.

“I think that many women are reflective, as you said.  We always are wondering how others see us, if we’re measuring up, and especially whether our husbands find us attractive.  As we age, this becomes more and more of a concern.  Are we reflecting beauty, sexiness, fun, pleasant images?  Are we desirable?  Not just sexually but our company?  Do you find us appealing, pretty, enjoyable to be with?  We need to know that. We need lots of reassurances that we’re desired to feel loved.

“And when you guys get really busy and you’re out there working hard, slaying the dragons for us and bringing home food from the hunt, while we do truly appreciate all your hard work, and intellectually should say, “gees, that guy must really love me to cut the lawn in 100 degree humidity,” we still need to feel desired.  It’s as simple as you grasping my neck and telling me I’m yours; or swatting my ass because you can and it makes me yours; or skating your fingers lightly down my arm to give me goosebumps.  Your touch alone does it.  It doesn’t have to be sex, or complimenting me.  It’s the arm around me at church, grasping my hand for no reason, or just giving me a loving and appreciative look. You wanting to put your hands on me makes me feel desired and loved.”

I need to continue to work on my respect for him.  It means doing things I don’t necessarily want to do because it makes him happy and that respects his feelings.  It means being verbally grateful for what he does for us, his accomplishments, his hard work–frequently.  Lifting him up in public and NEVER tearing him down, even with a roll of my eyes or an impatient sigh.  It means not scoffing even when he says something I don’t agree with.  I can’t just assume he knows I appreciate him.  He feels loved through my respect and expressions of gratitude.

And he understands that showing me I’m desired is important for peace and calm.  Even when he is tired, not in the mood, whatever, there are small things he can do that send a signal to me that even amid all of the other crap going on in his life, all the distractions and exhaustion, his desire for me is unwavering.

Respect and Desire.  Good stuff.

The Air Out of My Tires (A Rant)

April 21, 2015

I do a fine job of pontificating sometimes on all the “shoulds” and “musts” and “how-tos” of living in a marriage that is both Christian and Dominant/submissive.  I can talk a good talk.

Most of the time it seems like it’s working just fine.  Well, as good as can be expected.

And then there are days like today, when I do truly wonder if this has all been a sad fairy tale.

And when I feel like such a fraud.

Disregard anything I’ve ever written.  My halo is officially tarnished, big time.

I’m blessed.  I’m beyond blessed.  I have my health.  A nice home.  A car.  Food.  Nice things.  I live in a great country.  I get to do fun things, travel, etc.  I have good kids who by and large are responsible and kind.  My husband has always supported our family well, and is an honest, hard-working man.  Three years ago I had one foot outside the door, ready to call it quits in this marriage.  Resuscitating this marriage seemed impossible.  Continuing on as dismissive, platonic roommates was a cruel joke to me.

Lo and behold, we “fixed” things, because I gave it one more try and asked him to as well.  Some might say I gave an ultimatum.  D/s played a big part in this fix, in my opinion.  Honesty about who I am and that I just happened to have a keen interest in sex with my husband was laid on the table.  Learning to respect him better, follow his lead, and appreciate him all contributed to improvements.  Trying to surrender my control freak and trust him required work, discipline and effort for me.  Likewise, Sir Knight learned more about my love languages and unique, kinky desires.  He has valiantly tried to “serve” his damsel in distress, and become the Dom/leader/HOH she longs for.  We have had some fun and enjoyable times, a renewal, and I love him very much.  Sexy time was also heating up and improving, for both of us, I thought.  I very much hoped that we were going to have a spectacular future together, never again settling, never just “getting by,” but always working to make things interesting, stimulating, and spicy.  With able bodies and still clear minds, we were going to keep running our race until our last ounce of energy, sliding into the finish line all used up.

We watched a movie SK rented last night, called Le Weekend (SK picks out about 90% of the movies we watch, says he considers things that I may like… and he says he wants to discuss them, however I think only if I agree with his take on the movie).  It’s about an older empty-nest couple who goes to Paris to celebrate an anniversary, and essentially documents a worn-out marriage. Neither is happy.  Both clearly are just getting by, with episodes of caring and tenderness interspersed with frustration and apathy.  They are mostly miserable and sad, but unable to consider anything different.  They just stay together.

What did SK get from the movie?  “Love” conquers all.  “Love” holds it all together.  You honor your commitments through thick and thin.  And the wife is a bitch.

What did I get from the movie?  OMG, you cannot let down your guard EVER. You can take nothing for granted, you have to continue working at marriage to prevent it from sliding into the cesspool of alienation, hostility, and indifference.  Love is a feeling that isn’t enough to carry you.  It’s a choice.  And to hell with commitments when no one is happy.  I mean why, why do we stay where we are miserable?  Possibly because the alternative is greater misery?  I don’t know.

Our differing views of the movie were the topic of discussion today, along with an assessment/report card of our journey and growth over the past 3 years.

[A discussion, by the way, which is ALWAYS initiated by me.  He doesn’t touch this stuff with a ten-foot poll, and maybe it’s just a guy thing.  Sometimes he actually looks like he’s in pain to have to discuss the “State of the Union” for our marriage.]

The movie had shaken me, and reminded me of what I NEVER want this marriage to be again,  Keeping it good requires imagination, effort, work, all worthwhile.  It sort of alarmed me that he didn’t get a similar message.

SK didn’t completely disagree with me.  He actually did thank me for lighting a fire under him three years ago, and expecting a higher bar in our marriage.

But the fact remains, that he still regards this–D/s–This Thing We Do– as TOO MUCH WORK. When I thank him for a dominant move, he draws a heavy sigh and tells me how he hates having to work so hard.  And, as mentioned above, he valiantly tries to “serve” his damsel in distress and be the Dom she longs for.  But, he doesn’t want to be my Dom.  He doesn’t really like kinky sex, but he’s indulged me.  He’s appeasing.  His heart’s not in it.

He really is quite happy with sitting in an easy chair, reading books galore, doing crossword puzzles, and occasionally taking a fun trip, and yes, my company, cooking and conversation.  Everything else involving “relationship maintenance” is seemingly drudge work for him.  An effort he barely can regard as worthwhile, except for the fact that I’ll give him my stamp of “approval.”  (“Wasn’t that new position good?” he shoots back defensively… Uh, yea, it was, I told you that… and your point is?  That you’ve done your “duty,” and that should be enough for me?)

Ever since I told SK about my blog, I’ve worked to keep things on a positive note. As little bitching and complaining as possible.   Not only did I do so for his sake, so that he’d read positive things, I also did it as a discipline for myself, to appreciate the good things and try hard to not dwell on the bad.

And you know what?  He probably doesn’t read the blog anyway.  He doesn’t really care to.  I say “probably” because when I have point-blank asked him if he’s read something, he’s cagey, he says “maybe,” he starts to say I write too much (yes I do…), and essentially is saying it’s just not important enough for him to put down his book, crossword, or movie to read what his wife is feeling or has to say.  He really doesn’t want to know.

Crap.  (Picture me having a Chevy Chase Christmas Vacation meltdown right now with that rich litany of swear words.  A little comic relief here…).

We had an outing today that by all rights should have been lovely and enjoyable and fun.  He didn’t take my hand once.  He didn’t kiss me once.  He had me drive because he “doesn’t want to drive my new car.”  I was in charge, because beyond taking up my suggested idea, he had no plan.  And for the icing on the cake, he basically said that I was too much work.  He sort of nullified every pleasurable moment we’ve had in the past several years, because he thinks this is all too much work.

 I mean, go back to every sexually satisfying scene you can think of, and now think, “he was forcing himself to put out the effort…”

I’m too much work.

Here we are again.  Damn.  I thought we were past this.  I guess not.  He’s been faking it.

He’s not being Dom-ly at all.

He was a tired old grumpy man who is talking about the age spots he has to get removed, and who believes that couples should co-exist even when it gets deadly miserable in a marriage.

Because it’s too much work.

Ugh.  I can only hope this was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day for us, and that I’m ridiculously overreacting.

Need Reinforcements, Sleep

April 21, 2015

Woman Turning Off AlarmI promised SK that I’d be in bed by 11:30 tonight.  It’s 11:46 and I’m wide-eyed.  This is usually when my muse hits.

I’ve suddenly reverted back to my night-owl tendencies in recent weeks.  I can no more think of hitting the pillow at 10:00 than SK can sleep past 6 am.

I’ve been dragging with late bedtimes and fitful sleep (still need a new mattress…).  If I take a nap I really screw things up.  I manage to make my morning yoga classes, and I’ve been trying to put in some earnest editing time on my manuscripts.  Spending too much time at the chiropractor over some stupid sciatic issues (I’m still not 100% won over by chiropractic), and I’m supposed to be getting my portable TENS unit out and using it on the old glute where the nerve seems hung up.  Yea, that was interesting to have electrical stimulation on my butt at the chiro’s!  Frankly, I’m just a little scared by attaching something to my body  that delivers electrical impulses.

On a happy note, SK has become a regular spanking Dom! (and no, this is NOT contributing to the sciatic issue).  I’m getting butt4swats all the time, mostly “just because.”  It’s lovely.  My favorite was yesterday as I read on our bed.  We were headed out to evening church soon… he came in with a straight, no-nonsense face, rolled me quickly to my belly and delivered several hard cracks.  He then wordlessly walked away while I just sort of melted at this unsolicited and extremely Dom behavior.

There’s also been the matter of frequent wake up calls that involve being deliciously impaled and pleasured before I actually can rub the sleep out of my eyes.  He seems intent on testing all of my most extreme yoga positions… (Yes, SK, I can get my ankles next to my ears…).  I adore these attentions… and I’m sure he’d couple pindownprefer I’d be more sentient as he is no priapic monster (borrowing from FSOG).

And you know what?  I’m actually thinking that tomorrow there could be some spanks over my late bedtime. I’m conflicted as to whether I should make my punishment worse… LOL

The “M” Word

April 19, 2015

Masturbation. Masturbation

There, I wrote that word out.

What affect did it have on you?

I suppose it depends a lot about how you were raised and your views on sexuality.  The more conservative your upbringing, the more ashamed you probably were of doing it; but, more than likely, you still did it.  It felt good.  It probably amazed you what your body was capable of.  It released stress and tension, especially the kind that prevented you from having forbidden real live sex with another person.  More than likely it was done in the dark privacy of your room, door shut, lights out, under the covers, noises muffled.  You didn’t discuss it with anyone because it seemed– well, depraved.

If on the other hand, this word made you smile and squirm happily, good for you.  You may skip ahead to the end!

I had a college roommate who I KNOW masturbated in the dark on her side of the room.  It was somewhat embarrassing yet intriguing.  On my side of the room, I usually didn’t engage unless she was out of the room, I was a bit more private.  Some 35 years later, when enough had happened in life that you no longer feel embarrassed, and among a group of old and trusted friends who openly are discussing sexuality… I brought it up.  She denied it.  Wow.  I was stunned.  The shame and embarrassment apparently held over for her.

I grew up with very little instruction on sexuality, in a strict Catholic household.  There was no open PDA among my parents beyond a quick peck on the lips.  One time at 12 years old, I accidentally walked in on my parents in flagrante delicto… to then be beaten harshly by my extremely angry father as fast as he could get his pants up.   During my early puberty years, things were actually quite icy for my parents, and by my mid-teens I became aware that Dad was cheating on mom. And she stayed.

Oddly enough, nudity and the human body had always intrigued me as a kid, and I’d had my share of forbidden “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” behind the bushes. I knew where an uncle stashed his Playboy and Hustler magazines when visiting grandma (in that era, it was little more than naked girls).  Hungry for information, I was poking about in Mom’s nightstand when I was about 15 and came up with pay dirt– a book on sexuality, which I recall might have been written for married women trying to find pleasure, rather than duty, in sex.  I devoured that book.  I learned about the mechanics of intercourse (which at the time I found a bit icky) and I learned about the parts of that private area that heretofore had only had bathroom functions and I’d on occasion been chastised not to touch. “DIrty…”

I vaguely remember the day I was doing some digital explorations of my anatomy, I believe I actually had the damn book in one hand… and I had my first orgasm.  Holy crap.  Scared the shit out of me.  What did I do?  That was amazing… but I must’ve broken something!  Wowee wow!

I threw the book under the bed and repented of doing that evil deed again.

Until a few days later… and I was hooked and enthralled.  It was about the best thing I’d ever felt in my life, and the most effective little sleeping pill on earth.

Mom eventually found “THE book,” and in indignant, embarrassed shock took it back without even thinking to ask me what I was curious about.

But I knew enough to keep me happy for a while.

Ironically, up until my 19th year I didn’t have any interest in intercourse with a man.  I had few boyfriends, and the act of penis in vagina repulsed me.  The few dates I’d had, when he’d close in for the grope or the rub, even an open-mouthed kiss, I pulled back.  I wasn’t “that kind of girl.”   So I happily and secretly kept myself pleasured in the solitary privacy of my own room.

At 19 I met a man 18 years my senior, with whom I became infatuated, and after 3 months of secret “dating,”  begged him to take my virginity.  I eventually ran away from home to be with him (a whole story in itself; suffice it to say a “father figure,” a very decent guy, had shown me unconditional love and affection, and I was starving.  He taught me all the good things about human sexuality that I’d been clueless about before).

naked sheets

Masturbation remained my friend through my 20s, but still was always a private occupation in the lulls between lovers.  My “Dom” boyfriend, who introduced me to my first toys, did not permit me to use the toys alone or in front of him.  I generally refrained making the act of masturbation open knowledge to any man, as I viewed it as a little pathetic on my part, and possibly a turn off to the guy.  I clearly did not want to send off signals that he wasn’t “enough” for me.  One BF coaxed a lot of my secrets out of me, and was quite impressed when I confessed having had an orgasm in my car driving on a particularly bumpy road with the seam of my jeans hitting “just right.”  He happened to be more “open minded” about all things sexual (including being quite polygamous).

When my Christian faith grew stronger, I began to question whether masturbation was “right” (not to mention sleeping around…).  I struggled a lot, and sometimes felt it was a pretty pathetic picture… Still, when I married my husband, I couldn’t quite bring myself to give up the two very basic and simple vibrating toys I’d “stolen” from the “Dom,” along with some racy erotica I had penned and my tattered copy of “The Story of O.”  Within a few years of no Os from husband, I was back full force to toy-land and masturbation.  Somewhere in all of this, I developed a rare disorder (interstitial cystitis) that mimics a chronic urinary tract infection, minus the infection (to which I’d always been quite susceptible to anyway, especially after lots of sex). This disorder has no clear cause or straight-forward cure… and after multiple tests and drug trials, I was scared there might be no cure. Convinced that I was being “punished,” I swore off masturbation, chucked the toys in the trashcan, and faced the specter of a life of celibacy… as orgasms–let alone sex–with my husband weren’t happening.  And somewhere, somehow, I was led to feel that masturbation in marriage was wrong.

 Guilt.  Guilt.  Guilt.

[Fortunately, the interstitial cystitis symptoms mysteriously went away after about a year. One unproven “cause” was stress.  At that point in my life, I had plenty of stress, with young kids and an empty, failing marriage].

The rest of my story: well, it’s a renewed marriage and renewed passion for my husband and me.  Our love, relationship, communication, and marriage bed is better than it’s ever been, and we are on a journey of discovery, breaking down walls against intimacy that have long been reinforced due to fears, guilt, and hang-ups.  Still, I seemed to cling to the guilt about self-stimulation, and the desire for more release than my husband may give me. I want my husband sexually, A LOT.  Of course, given the choice, I want pleasure with my husband and from his attentions.  But there are times when he’s not as interested or aroused, and we are learning to be patient and understanding of limitations.  We are learning to accept, without judgment, that we have different drives.  It doesn’t stop either of us from wanting the other to experience pleasure, or in taking joy in the other’s pleasure.

In the Gift of Sex (Penner) I read the healthiest view of masturbation I’ve ever seen, and it has forever changed my views.  The authors start out by quoting a verse from the bible:

“One night as I was sleeping, my heart awakened in a dream… My hands dripped with perfume, my fingers with lovely myrrh. (Song of Songs 5:2, 5)”

The authors then followed with the question,

What part does masturbation play in marriage, if any?

They go on to first cite Dr. James Dobson (a renowned Christian author, psychologist,talk-show host, and founder of Focus on the Family) on the topic:

“Between 95-98 percent of all boys engage in this practice and the rest have been known to lie.  It is as close to being a universal behavior as is likely to occur.  A lesser but still significant percentage of girls also engage in what was once called ‘self-gratification.’  As for the emotional consequences of masturbation, only four circumstances should give us cause for concern.”

The chapter goes on to list these circumstances for concern: oppressive guilt; obsessive; porn-driven; a substitute for healthy sexual relations between a husband and wife.  They basically assert that masturbation for most, from childhood, is a response to a God-given sexual feeling.

As a result of the guilt feelings, so many of us have walked away with a shame from childhood that sex is “good” only when it is “bad.”

The authors spend time reviewing all the classic arguments and biblical references supposedly against masturbation, for freedom without enslavement, and essentially come out with not condemning masturbation, as long as our actions are loving, and not self-abuse, hurtful to others, or enslave us.

In certain circumstances, masturbation is OK.

While advocating always sexual pleasure as a couple first and foremost, the authors allow for extenuating circumstances.  “If our adult self-stimulation takes something away from our spouse, then the behavior is not loving.  On the other hand, if one partner desires sexual activity far more frequently than the other, the couple might decide that masturbation is the most loving act the highly interested person can do, so as not to put the spouse under pressure.”  Also, “there may be times when one partner needs to be free from the pressures of sex for emotional reasons.  So while it is possible that self-stimulation could be an unloving act, there is also the possibility that using it to relieve pressure would be the more loving act, not only for the self-stimulator, but also for the spouse.” (Note the authors say that “the couple decides.” I realize in some D/s relationships, this is discussed as a limit.  It goes back to a mutually consensual decision.  I am working now on always asking SK for permission to pleasure myself…  it’s still hard to ask… even though I know he won’t deny me pleasure).

They conclude: “Masturbation can never be seen as a total fulfillment of what we were made to be, but rather as a temporary, incomplete, but sometimes necessary pleasurable physical release, or a step toward reaching greater satisfaction within our relationship…

A snack that will tide us over until the real need can be met.”

I am the “highly interested person” in this marriage– always have been and probably always will be. It’s been the source of so much pain and self-condemnation for me, as the voices in my head denounce me: “He must not love me/feel I’m sexy…”  “I’m depraved,”  I’m a nympho,” “It’s unnatural to want sex so much with my husband…”  “I feel guilty that my high needs insinuate that he isn’t enough.”  “I’m giving him performance anxiety by my high desires/demands,”  “I’m such a slut.”

All of the damning voices in my head led to anger and blame towards the least guilty party, my husband.

And once I could step away these condemning voices, become honest about who I am, and realize that he loves me to his utmost, to the greatest extent possible for him, I could forgive myself and give myself permission AND freedom.

Permission to joyfully (and gratefully!) accept all he is able to give me.

Permission to just accept we are different and that our drives differ, and to not hold that against him.

Permission to not hold it against me…

…Freedom to indulge in God-given pleasure and still honor my spouse.

I Believe in You

April 16, 2015

A little eye and ear candy with my favorite guys and gal.  The song lyrics are tremendous too!

(Who do you like best? Carlos, the deep-voiced Spaniard who melts you with his gaze?  Urs, the Swiss guy with the long locks? Sebastien, the tall gorgeous Frenchman; or David, the ginger-ish American hunk?  Hmmm… decisions, decisions.  Yeah.  Eye candy all. I’ve had the extreme pleasure of seeing the guys, and Celine perform, all amazing artists).

Be yourself an angel of kindness…

I Believe In You Lyrics

“I Believe In You” is track #3 on the album Ancora. It was written by Kreuger, David Bengt/magnusson, Per Olof/elofsson, Jorgen Kjell/saggese, Matteo/plamondon, Luc.

Lonely, the path you have chosen

A restless road, no turning back
One day you will find your light again
Don’t you know? Don’t let go, be strong

Follow you heart
Let your love lead through the darkness
Back to a place you once knew
I believe, I believe, I believe in you

Follow your dreams
Be yourself, an angel of kindness
There’s nothing that you cannot do
I believe, I believe, I believe in you

Tout seul
Tu t’en iras tout seul
Coeur ouvert
A L’univers

Poursuis ta quete
Sans regarder derriere
N’attends pas
Que le jour
Se leve

Suis ton etoile
Va jusqu’ou ton reve t’emporte
Un jour tu le toucheras
Si tu crois si tu crois si tu crois
En toi

Suis la lumiere
N’eteins pas la flamme que tu portes
Au fonds de toi souviens-toi
Que je crois que je crois que je crois
En toi

Someday I’ll find you
Someday you’ll find me too
And when I hold you close
I’ll know that it’s true

Follow your heart
Let your love lead through the darkness
Back to a place you once knew
I believe, I believe, I believe
(I believe in you)

Follow your dreams
Be yourself, an angel of kindness
There’s nothing that you cannot do
I believe, I believe, I believe in you

I believe, I believe, I believe in you
I believe in you

Read more: Il Divo – I Believe In You Lyrics | MetroLyrics

My Knight Never Ceases to Surprise Me

April 15, 2015

I’m trying to work out of my post-BFFL funk here.  I’m trying to just find the joy in the time we had together, now sweet memories that have to carry me over to our next gathering.

It’s numbed my brain and my libido a little bit from sexy time with Sir Knight.

After dropping everyone at the airport Monday, it was quite nice that SK wanted me.  He had me, quickly, and I was grateful for the connection.  My Os were reluctant and difficult to achieve.  He was most understanding… “you’re tired, it’s OK…”

This morning, I was told that there would be a “nooner” and that I was to prepare my mind for a scene with him.  He suggestively dropped hints of all the sexy plans he had in mind for me.  I love him so much. I so appreciate he wants to do this for me.

BUT, it was hard putting my mind to the delicious scene he spoke of, and I desperately tried to shake my malaise all morning. After my workout, I barely made it into the shower with 5 minutes to spare. I had the presence of mind to at least slide on the sexy Victoria’s Secret babydoll.

When he walked up to me in my sexy lingerie, and plunged me into darkness with the blindfold, I still wasn’t finding my sexy. He loosened my ponytail out of the blindfold elastic, and he firmly held my chin back, his hands on my face, and his mouth pressed to mine blindfoldrDominantly.  I yearned to find my sexy, because this was so damned sexy.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I wondered.  I tried to visualize the movie of us… my blindfold, his hands on my face, his mouth and tongue assaulting mine, the sheer frock leaving nothing to the imagination.

A few spanks with the leather paddle got my attention.  These were the “reach-around” spanks, not always my favorites because they often are wild swings that can land in very tender areas. This got my attention.

He slowly pulled the spaghetti straps of the sheer babydoll down my shoulders, releasing my breasts, and his mouth dove to take my nipples prisoner.  I began to moan, enjoying his roughness, the graze of his teeth.  He peeled the babydoll over my belly and hips and down my legs, and I was completely naked and vulnerable before him.  I was starting to become his, and in this moment.

He pulled my hands before me and tied the silk scarf around them tightly.  a cuffs

Oh yes, this is where I need to be, Sir.  At your mercy.  My senses taken from me, helpless, in your hands, at your whim. Please do nasty, unforgettable things to my body!

Sir Knight guided me to the bed, bent me over, and began to work me over with the crop– with new moves that took my breath away and washed away the sad feelings.  He had a great technique that tickled, stung, and snapped at my delicate skin, causing me to writhe and a sensationplaymoan.  The sueded tendrils began to lull me into a delicious trance, and I wanted to stay there forever.  Oh, I love the flogger, and I love what he’s learning to do with it.

Mmmmm… I’m beginning to float…

The fur glove comes next, incongruously taking the place of the flogger with it’s soft, soft caresses over my rear and my stinging haunches.

(Gee, I want the flogger back…)

I hear the click next, and our large dildo is vibrating at my pussy, at the entrance to my vagina, teasing me.  He lubes me and pushes it deep, filling me, and I groan with appreciation.  For the next eternity (10-15 minute) he assiduously works that dildo in me… I ask for more lube to manage it… and the sensations are exquisite.  I feel myself edging, edging, floating, floating, cresting, cresting…. diving, diving… cresting… and not able to surmount the pinnacle of my orgasm. There’s pleasure, but frustration.  There’s adoration for this man’s persistence and patience with me.  There’s anger at my inability to topple over in the orgasm I should be having… What is wrong with my body?  

His fingers come around me and massage my clit.  I’m building and building but it’s still so far away…

The phone rings, message machine with long rambling message from father in law… but SK doesn’t stop, doesn’t miss a beat, bless his heart.

I’m mentally chastising myself about not being able to climb to the top after such lovely, lovely ministrations by My Knight. I want this so bad… to give him ALL my pleasure, all my orgasms.

He turns me and gently pushes me to the bed on my back, and applies the smaller vibe.  I’m cresting again, so frustratingly close… but not…

“I–want–my–husband–to–make–me–come!” I whisper over and over again.

What is wrong with me??

I come so close, so close… yet frustratingly far.  By now my writhing has loosened my wrists, and my hands drop between blindfoldedmy legs in frustration.  He puts the vibe into my fingers, and uses the wand at my nipples as I search desperately for the Orgasm that has eluded me now for what? 30+, 40+ minutes of play?  I’m near tears with the disappointment, my body is now so wound up.

Finally, I crash in my first O, he holds my body as I shake and tremble violently.  As always, once the flood gates are open, second and third come in quick succession, and these nearly break me apart with their intensity.

Oh, thank God. That release was crucial to my physical, mental and emotional well being.  Behind my blindfold, I feel the tears pressing.  I fail to sufficiently stifle my sniffle.

cuddle2“Hey, hey, you OK?” he whispers as he holds me close to him and caresses me gently.

“Yes… you were magnificent… Oh I LOVED everything you did!  But I so badly want these Os from you.  What’s wrong with me?”

“It’s OK… It’ll come…” he reassures me.

Oh, this man is too good to be true. 

My fingers skate across his chest, over his belly, and tickle his frenulum.  I repeat the tease.  He instead asks for a back rub.  I give it to him gratefully, stuffing down my slight disappointment that I can’t give him sexual pleasure.  I don’t want to pressure him though… if all he wants is a back rub, that’s fine.

He turns to his back.  I caress him more, selfishly craving his cock in my mouth, and in my still quivering pussy.

“Do you… do you want my mouth?”

“OK,” he replies.  I try not to read anything into his level response.

My mouth does it’s magic, and he’s obviously enjoying things.  I reach for the lube and he enjoys the slide of my hands now.

“Do you want to get on top?” he asks.  tumblr_lc23qlMKwm1qzoih4o1_500

“Is that where you want me?” I dutifully ask. Maybe he just wants a simple and straightforward hand job… blow job. I’ll give him anything he wants.  I just wish he’d TELL me and not ask.  But he’s too polite to demand.

“Yes, I want you there.”

I move atop him, whispering, “It makes me so happy for you to TELL me what you want me to do.”

“I want you on top of me…” he repeats with more conviction.  “Ahhhh yes….” he hisses as I lower myself slowly.  He firmly grips me, controlling my movements to the speed he wants–slow and deliberate.

Oh, he feels so good in me. And his hot cum feels amazing, I love how his body tenses and he grabs me towards him, how I melt into his chest and nuzzle into his neck and we become one.  

My Knight Never Ceases to Amaze me.  He gives me what I need.  He tries so hard to work this stubborn body of mine with patience and love.  With him, I am sated, safe, happy, at peace.  So desperate to submit myself to him heart, mind, soul, body… no reservations, no hold backs.

I am so blessed. Without D/s, we wouldn’t be where we are.  I need to be so grateful for this.


April 14, 2015

There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship. - Thomas Aquinas

My weekend with my besties was amazing.  Each time we gather, I am in awe of our love and devotion to each other.  We have fun, we talk non-stop, we listen, we commiserate, we eat, drink, walk, laugh, sleep, and wake together. We hug, we kiss, we hold hands, we stroke hair, we talk in the dark as we reluctantly drift off to sleep.  There never is enough time for all of the words and love we want to share with each other.  It is an utterly amazing thing.

I also enjoy being hostess… I love to cook and prepare and plan for fun times, and especially for such a dear, appreciative crowd. We covered several hundred miles seeing the sights and the gorgeous spring wildflowers, and sampling a range of yummy local cuisine.  We squeeze the life out of every minute we have together, and depart exhilarated yet exhausted from such effusive outpourings of emotions.

I am blessed, no two ways about it. Very few of us get to have sisters like this for nearly 4 decades, people who know you better than anyone in the world and still love you unconditionally. We complete each other and cherish every laugh, tear, hug, and moment. SK loves them and they adore him (he was actually around more than he planned).  I know SK loves how they love me, how we love each other, how special is what we have.

So it makes it all the harder to say goodbye, the lingering hugs and the tears, and harder yet to wake up the next day to a quiet, empty house and table… and know I won’t see them again for many more months.

That’s the thing about friends like these.  They fill you up so completely, but then also can leave such a gaping hole when they leave. I know it’s not a permanent hole, and that I can pick up my phone and reread all of the dozens of texts shared as everyone was traveling home yesterday… and that we’ll talk…

But it’s not the same.

These are always the times that are hard for me here.  I miss them so much.  I’ve spent the past 24 years living too far from them. I’m 1000+ miles from these girls, and I so want to be closer and see them more often.

I love SK too, and I have come to love my life with him, and I look forward to our future together. I can’t imagine it any other way. I’ve given him 24 years in this place.  Our careers are done. Elders are safe and well cared for.  New adventures beckon.  Our kids are adults and moving ahead with their lives.  I know we’ll be close to them always…

We have few ties in this place.

But I am done with this place, his home town.

I want for us to go back to my “home,” and for us to enjoy a new venue.

SK has my heart.  He always will.  But my heart is so much the richer for him, because of these friends.

A bittersweet day… Confusing thoughts.  Difficult conversations.

Your friend is your needs answered. - Khalil Gibran


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