The title is a quote from the movie “Mallrats” - love that movie!!  We like to quote movie lines… it’s something we’ve just always done.

In my last post, I didn’t really want to go into what’s pissed me off because I was still processing it myself.  Sometimes writing it out helps to clear things up and other times it all comes out a big jumbled mess, so I decided to keep the post short and sweet until I figured it all out in my head.

What has me upset is - I want more from my slavery, I want to give more.  I want to FEEL owned even during the vanilla times when I’m chasing an active toddler while also dealing with a crying baby.  I feel so frazzled during these times that it would be so nice if I could feel like something else besides a frumpy mom.  It’s great when the kids go to bed, he comes home from work and it’s just the two of us free to be who we are Master/slave.  Most of the time it’s great to have to crawl around the house, naked to get things for him and he enjoys watching me walk back on my knees bringing it to him.  Sometimes he makes me push things to him using only my nose.  I love humiliation play and I want more.  Sometimes more doesn’t seem like an option, he seems hesitant and I now I know why.

I would love to have the kind of domination in my life where my wants/needs/desires didn’t particularly matter.  I would love it if he would/could beat it into my head that his wants/needs/desires come before mine.  I would love to have a certain level of fear of him.  Not the kind of fear where I’m afraid for my life or that he’d maim me, but the kind of fear that is like “Do as I say - or else!!”  Sometimes and though we are getting better at it, the “or else” isn’t there.  When it is, it’s usually not what I pictured in my fantasy.  I actually started believing he was just too nice of guy and that my world was crumbling because he wasn’t as in to all of this as I am.  I was wrong.

Today was a bad day - I stomped around and acted out and nothing was said or done.  Yes, the kids were right there and they are a large part of why my day was going to hell.  Yes, he can’t very well slam me against the wall right there in front of them and yell at me about my place in our dynamic, but sometimes I really wish he would do something - anything.  I want him to take my submission from me.  I’m not intentionally trying to take my power back, but if it’s not being used and it’s just flopping around like fish, then yeah - guess I do.  I have a tendency to fall back in to vanilla wife mode too and want to win the fight.  I want to be right.  It’s a holdover from when we were partners - you’ve heard the saying “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”.  That was me.  It’s a behaviour I haven’t learned to let go of and I really do want to.  I resist, but that’s when I want him to TAKE the submission from me.  I can’t give it up, I’m fighting to win and even though I know I should, that it’s my place to be wrong (even if I’m not), submission is soooooooooo hard for me when I’m angry.

Which brings me to what I learned from him tonight.  The reason he won’t push me further or harder, even though I’ve made it clear I want him to is because I’m bipolar.  He’s afraid to push me because he’s afraid of what reaction I will have to it.  My track record is not good.  I’ve come unglued many, many times - I shoved a shopping cart into someone once at Walmart and for that I’m labeled for life as a hothead.  In my defense, I was not on medication at the time and now I am.  Yes, I still have episodes, but they aren’t nearly as bad or as violent.  Doesn’t matter.  I still have episodes and that’s the problem.  Whenever I’m in a pissy mood and stomping around the house feeling all icky inside - it’s chalked up to being bipolar.  I don’t like it.  It’s way too easy to hide behind.  I could excuse any behaviour I have and the reason I disobeyed any rule to being bipolar and I don’t like it.  I don’t want or like the label of being unstable.  It’s not who I really am.  He knows me and he knows it’s not always bipolar related, but sometimes maybe it is.  Often I don’t see it when I’m having an episode and only see it after he points it out to me.

I don’t know how to get past this.  How do we reach a new level in our relationship if he won’t take me to it because I’m bipolar?  All this just sucks.  I understand his concerns and his reservations about it.  This is why he’s in charge - he’ll see a line in the sand and ponder it for a bit deciding which way to proceed and I’ll see the same line and if left up to me, jump right over it because I’m the girl who will leap before she looks. 

I need to calm down.  Hell, maybe I’m in an episode right now, lol  It’s not up to me to direct what road we take or if we ever cross that line.  This is his show to run however he wants and I know all that, but still I can’t stop the ache for more, more, MORE!  I want him to shove me down, beat me, hurt me, make me cry and brainwash me out of my thoughts and into his. 

*heavy sigh*

One day - I believe that maybe one day my mental illness won’t be an issue because we will have found a way to either conquer it or to go around it.  God I hope so.  I hate this slave angst I’ve got now and I want him to fix it.  I want him to fix me, but he can’t.  He can’t control my disorder.  I sure as hell can’t control it (I’ve tried countless times and failed every single time).  The only thing that can control it are two stupid little pills I take three times a day. 

Alright…..  letting go.  I’m going to work on letting go and stop trying to drive the car.  Maybe we’ll reach a new plateau and maybe we won’t.  I should be thankful for what I do have and stop looking over the the fence for greener grass. 

Rose

My bubble burst.  Damn it.  I knew that dreamy, floating feeling wouldn’t last forever, but I wanted it to.  Nothing major happened, just your usual life shit that brought me crashing back down to earth. 

Now I’m the opposite of where I was - I’m grumpy, pissy and just generally not a happy camper. 

Everything will turn around and be fine again, but right now my own head is playing mind games with me.  I’m feeling full of cliches today because it’s true what they say - you are your own worst enemy.

Maybe it’s hormones.  Maybe it’s sub-drop.  Maybe it’s bipolarism.  Maybe it’s just life and I need to get over myself.  Don’t know.  Right now I’m too busy wallowing in it to care.

Ugh!  I feel like crap.

Rose

I’m consumed by the love I have for my Daddy right now.  I always love him, but right now it’s just burning hotter, stronger…something’s just different.  I feel like I’m walking on a cloud and floating in that lovely, wonderfully delicious sub-space feeling.  What brought all this on is the conversation about consistency we had the other night and since then, let me tell ya - he’s been VERY consistent.  I can’t get away with jack shit around here anymore, lol.  He says he likes having me on a short leash and honestly, I’m loving it too!  It gives me such a safe and secure feeling.  Peaceful.  I know eventually I’ll come back down to earth, but right now I’m really enjoying this feeling. 

We had an intense scene last night that also helped to put me into this dreamy feeling.  It’s literally like a dream because a large part of it I can’t remember, the memories of what all happened are swirling together in my head.  I remember having my nipples thoroughly tortured, Daddy forcing an incredibly intense orgasm out of me and I know I swallowed his cum, but everything else is hazy….love it!

I wanted to put these songs on here for Daddy because they represent how I feel about him.  The first is Pat Benatar’s “We Belong” and the song speaks volumes to me.  Daddy and I DO belong together - we fit just like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and I’m so in love with him.  The second is Tanya Tucker’s “Two Sparrows in a Hurricane”.  It’s a beautiful love song that represents our entire relationship, we married so young and everyone said we were fools so I especially love the line “The world says they’ll never make it, but love says they will.”  I know to some “love” is the death of a M/s relationship, but for me, love just makes it sooo much stronger.  I love my Daddy and I’m the happiest, luckiest baby girl in the whole world!  Sorry, I know it all sounds so sappy, but I can’t help it.  The last couple of days have been incredible for me and I’m all bouncy, bright and happy right now. 

Rose

Consistency is hard to maintain in a M/s relationship, or at least it’s sometimes a challenge for us.  I want the “in your face” type of domination where there is NEVER any question of who’s in charge around here and sometimes Daddy just wants some down time because he’s not really in the mood to be “Billy Bad-ass” at the moment.  When those times happen, it’s hard for me to sit and patiently wait for him to “feel like it” again because it throws me into a tailspin.  I feel lost and like there’s a disconnection between us.  I HATE feeling out of sync with him, it makes me feel like everything in the world is wrong.  I turn into a bitch and a total brat, oh yeah, I’ve got the brat act down pat.

What started it for me was - I’m to get his stuff ready for him before he goes to work, his wallet, cell phone, etc…  On the list of things to get are his thumb drives (I’m not a computer person, but they are these small, computer related things he needs for work.)  Well, I forgot them and later on when I saw them on his desk, I called to apologize for not having everything ready for him.  He said it wasn’t a big deal and the thumb drives were the least of his problems.  Now…. to most people that probably would’ve been a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a “big deal”, but it upset me.  I felt like if it’s not a big deal, if it’s not EXPECTED of me to have EVERYTHING ready for him, then why am I bothering?  I got quiet so he knew something was wrong - I’m not a quiet person, I’ll talk your ear off if you let me.  He asked what was wrong and I flat out told him.  I told him that it was a lack of consistency, that if it doesn’t really matter then why am I doing it?  If I don’t do something that’s required of me, even by accident, that it fucks with my head when nothing is done about it.  He was having a bad day at work, I did not know that or I would’ve kept my mouth shut, but he ASKED me what was on my mind, so I told him.  It got tense and we ended up in an argument.  The fight continued when he got home too - I was pouting and hurt, he was stressed, tired from work and not really wanting to “deal” with me at the moment.  We avoided each other and the situation for a while, which just made the gap between us feel so much wider.  Eventually we both calmed down enough to talk it out and he understood my need for consistency and that not having it sometimes just fucks with me.  He admitted to being a little lax with me and said that he was going to make a conscience effort to hold me accountable when I don’t do something that’s asked of me.  Damn, vanilla mode is toooo fucking easy to slip slide back in to.

To reconnect, I curled up with him on the couch and started rubbing his cock through his shorts.  I love rubbing his cock and feeling it starting to get hard.  He took it out of his shorts and I started sucking on it, mmmm….  He forced his cock down my throat until I started to gag and a little bit of vomit came up in my throat.  Then he took his shorts off and told me that I was owned, I was his slut here for his pleasure and to further resolidify that my head, he told me to lick his asshole.  Yuck.  I HATE doing that more than I hate having anal sex.  I’m just not a “butt” person, but I did it.  It gave him immense pleasure and I was happy that I was pleasing him, even if I was holding my breath and just trying to get through it.  After a while, he pulled me up on top of him and I rode his cock for little bit while he yanked and tugged on my nipples trying his best to pull them off my chest.  As he was about to reach an orgasm, he pushed me off of him and told me to suck him off.  I love the taste of my pussy on his cock and then I remembered I had just finished my period and there’s always that residual…fuck it, I just went with it until he exploded in my mouth.  I didn’t get to have an orgasm, part of his reminding me who’s in charge around here.  Of course I would’ve loved to have an orgasm too, but I was one satisfied little whore anyway just feeling reconnected to him as his slave.

Later on we were playing Wow (World of Warcraft - we’re addicted) and I know I’m to crawl to get the things he asks for, but lately he hasn’t said anything when I walked so I kinda got out of the habit of immediately falling to my knees.  It happened twice and he called me on it both times.  I was not testing him, it was just a mistake, but I was happy that he sent me to the corner for 5 minutes for the infractions.  I wasn’t happy about being punished, I never want to be the kind of slave that does shit just to get attention, but I was happy for the consistency.  I stood to walk, when I should have knelt to crawl and he put me in my place for not doing what I know I’m suppose to do.  I felt so centered and sooo happy - I was floating.  Consistency….gotta love it! 

Rose

I’m lucky that I don’t suffer from PMS like a lot of women do, but I found this icon, thought it was funny and had to use it.  I don’t have anything kinky to share since I’m ragging and we don’t play during that of the month, some do and that’s great, but it’s not our style.  Yeah, I know - it sounds like a contradiction when self proclaimed “blood freaks” won’t go south of the border during a storm, but menstrual blood isn’t pure blood and therefore isn’t appealing to us. 

Anyway….  On with bitch fest part 2

I was reading CNN and Fox News when I read two articles that pissed me off and made me realize that being “politically correct” has gone too far.  In Atlanta, some women got their panties in a wad over the “Men Working” signs they post on the roads because as they put it - women are working right along with the men and it’s discriminating against them.  WTF?  So now Atlanta is spending big bucks to replace all the signs with ones that just say “Workers Ahead”.  These bitches even have plans to go national with their discrimination campaign to have all the signs, everywhere, changed.  Get a fucking life already!!  THIS is the shit that keeps them awake at night??  I think the words “Men Working” do actually include women too -  did they ever write down the word “women” and realize that it’s just “men” with a “wo” in front of it?    Maybe the words “woman” and “women” are going to be under attack from them next.  I’m surprised they stopped at just “Workers Ahead” and didn’t push for “Men and Women too damn it -  working ahead”.  Personally, I like the thought of a sign that reads ”Men and a few bitches that should be at home in the kitchen cooking, but had to prove to everyone that their balls are bigger - working ahead”.  I wonder if they’d like my suggestion?  lol.  Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, I’m not saying that women aren’t qualified to do the job - I’m saying that forcing a city to spend money to fix road signs that aren’t broken because a few hens felt slighted by the words on it is absurd.  All that money could be spent in a much more useful way that would benefit everyone and not just their particular egos.

The other thing that pissed me off has to do with race.  I’m playing with fire now because this a very sensitive topic, or at least here in the south it is.  Some official somewhere (can’t remember where) got pissed off over the phrases “black hole”, “angel food cake” and “devil’s food cake.”  I’m dead serious.  Those popular, everyday phrases are threatening to him and he’s waging a war over their use.  WTF?  He said that “black hole” is offensive to the black community because it’s used as - when something is lost, it disappears into a “black” hole.  Once again - THIS is the shit that keeps some people up at night?  His beef with “angel food cake” is because it’s “white” and therefore angelic where as “devil’s food cake” is “black” and therefore evil.  WTF??  I can’t even think of words to to describe how ludicrous it all sounds to me.  These food items have been around for a long time and I’m sure their names came to be what they are because of WHAT they are and never had a damn thing to do with race!  In my way of thinking it goes like this - angel food is soft, light, and airy like an angel would be, that “angel” could be black too just for the record and devil’s food is delicious, decadent chocolate that will cause you to eat the entire cake so therefore it’s the “devil’s food”.  Maybe it’s just me, but I think some people go out of their way to complicate shit that just isn’t complicated.  What’s next for this guy?  I bet he’s going after “The White House”, after all it’s as plain as day right there in the name - “White House”.  It has to be offensive to someone, somewhere and Heaven forbid anyone feel “bad” so let’s go ahead a change it to “President’s House” so no one feels left out and discriminated against.  Fucking assholes with entirely too much time on their hands to bitch about pety shit.

I’m not exactly sure when all this “politically correct” crap got started, but they are taking it all waaaay too far now.  I understand handicapped people not wanting to be thought of as lesser people and prefer being called “physically challenged”.  We all know they’re handicapped, but if it makes them feel better about it - fine.  Same thing with midgets wanting to be called “little people”, it’s the same damn thing only now the word is all dressed up just so it sounds better.  I’m not attacking anyone or trying to come across like a bitch - I’m just making my point and my point is this:  Call a spade a spade already.  Stop dancing around it, using fancy words that aren’t going to change the fact that it is what it is and fucking deal with it.  You can’t protect everyone, everywhere from getting their feelings hurt so stop trying.  Hell, I’m in an uproar, my feelings are being hurt by all this “politically correctness” that’s gone insayne and I’m feeling “peace of mind challenged” so maybe I’ll start my own campaign to end all the bullshit now. lol

Damn it!!!  Mother Nature threw a monkey wrench into our kinky plans - I started my friggin period!!  I read on Kaya’s blog that the same thing happened to her, is it possible for women to synchronize cycles through the internet?? lol. 

Before this set back happened, we did get in a little quick playtime.  As I mentioned before, Daddy is going to be buying me a treadmill soon so I can de-stress and maybe even lose a little weight.  We’re both trying to eat a little healthier so the other day I was in the kitchen making us a salad for lunch.  I had just cleaned off a cucumber and was getting ready to cut it up to put in the salad when inspiration struck Daddy and he had another plan for this particular cucumber.  *wink wink*

I found myself nude, on the kitchen floor being fucked mercilessly with this huge cucumber!  10 minutes before I had been preparing lunch and now “lunch” was being shoved in and out of my cunt!  I loved it!!!  I loved the total spontaneity of it -  he saw me standing there holding it, preparing to cut it up, took it out of my hand, told me to strip and lay down on the floor.  I knew immediately what was going to happen and I couldn’t peel my clothes off fast enough!

He rubbed my clit with his free hand and I had a very quick and sensational orgasm all over that cucumber.  It’s the first time I’ve ever fucked a vegetable and I’ll never again walk through a produce isle without thinking about it or being tempted to buy another!  I wasn’t sure what to do with it afterwards because it felt kinda wrong in a way to put it in the salad after I had just fucked it and exploded all over it, but Daddy already had this problem solved for me so it was a moot point for me to even worry about it.  The cucumber ended up, unwashed, in MY salad.  Even with dressing I swear I could still taste pussy on it!  Loved it!!  I felt so dirty and slutty to sit there and eat a cucumber I had just had sex with!  God, I love how twisted his mind can be and I wanted more!  MORE!!  *shakes her fist at Mother Nature*

This particular topic has been beaten to death already, but I’m feeling the need to kick the horse a little more.  I still find it amazing how critical kinky people are of each other.  Why is that?  Yeah, people are judgemental of each other in general so why should being kinky change anything, but for some reason I actually thought that it would.  After all, we’re suppose to be the open minded ones. HA!!

The problem is tunnel vision.  They refuse to accept that there could actually be a way to “do” BDSM that is - Oh My God - different than the way they do it.  I wish these fucking idiots who have it all figured out and are the self proclaimed, end all, be all, way to do it “correctly” would write a fucking book already so the rest of us that are “wrong” all the damn time could learn to be judgemental fucktards too since that’s apparently the correct way to be. 

Maybe I’m completely wrong and it has nothing to do with their lack of vision.  Maybe it’s their insecurities and they feel like someone is going to point a finger at them and yell “Poser!” so to prevent that from happening they immediately go on the offense to cut others down first.  Hmmmm…..  Maybe I’m on to something here and insecure assholes are what we’re really dealing with.

Yeah, the old saying “opinions are like assholes because everyone’s got one” is true.  Opinions are one thing, I have my own opinions about some of the the things I’ve read on other blogs or heard about somewhere.  Having an opinion doesn’t make someone judgemental.  What’s makes someone an arrogant, judgemental, prick is trying to force your opinion of something down someone else’s throat like it’s the gospel truth and then when they disagree, they are “wrong”.

Blood sports.  Daddy and I are heavily into blood play and you wouldn’t believe how judged we’ve been for that.  To the people who have judged us and for all the future ones that will - a line from 311’s song “All Mixed Up” sums it up best, Fuck the naysayers cause they don’t mean a thing cause this is what style we bring.  When I tell some kinky people that I have a fetish for blood, I might as well say ”Hi, I’m a serial killer and I want you to be my next victim” because that’s what they hear.  I’m sure they’re thinking that we MUST be crazy because why would anyone want to play with blood?  Why would I want to be cut?  What does Daddy get out of cutting me and watching me bleed?  Why would I want to have my body permanently scarred like that?  What’s so fascinating about it?  If I had to answer any of those questions, I could never explain it enough to make them understand.  What REALLY threw a few people for a loop and even lost me a few readers, was when I said I wanted to bathe in human blood.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Bathe in human blood.  Thinking I’m a serial killer or crazy aren’t you? lol  Simply put - we love blood.  It’s our thing, it’s our kink, it’s who we are.  If it bothers you then click the red X in the upper right hand corner and leave because for a blood freak like me, the idea of being completely submerged in blood is the equivalent of heaven on earth.

Personally, I don’t give a shit how someone else lives or serves in their relationship.  If they’re happy with it how it is then who the hell am I too say it’s wrong?  I’m actually open-minded enough to know there are some view points out there that are totally different from my own.  How boring and mechanical would it be if we all thought and did the exact same things?

Maybe their judgements have nothing to do with what style of play you’re into.  Maybe it has more to do with protocols.  I call my Owner “Daddy” instead of “Master” so I guess to them I’m wrong.  After all, if you’re in a Master/slave relationship you absolutley MUST call him Master - that’s the ONLY correct way to be.  It doesn’t matter that it’s your own personal relationship that these fucktards aren’t even apart of.  You’re wrong because you’re doing something different and different is, of course, the wrong way to be.  They also believe they know the proper punishment technique - it has to be physical.  If the Master takes away the internet or makes her do push-ups, well, to them that’s just silly and not proper punishment at all!  If you sleep in a bed and not on the floor, someone will tell you you’re not a ”real” slave.  If you walk instead of crawl - not really a slave.  If you have kids - can’t possibly be a real slave because there is someone distracting you from your Master.  If you have a job - not really a slave then either because once again, it’s something distracting you from your Owner.  If you sit on the furniture instead of on the floor - not really a slave.  If you touch or speak to your Master without permission - not really a slave.  If you and your Owner love each other - that’s wrong because love will kill the dynamic.  If you eat off of a plate, while using silverware and sitting at a table - not really a slave because a real slave eats out of a dog bowl, using only her mouth, while kneeling at her Owner’s feet.  If you don’t type using the U/us, W/we, O/our crap then you aren’t a real slave because you aren’t showing a pronoun its proper respect.  If you have a brain that works and can actually think for yourself - not really a slave because to be a “true” slave you MUST be a mindless robot.  The age old debate over the definition of “sub” v/s “slave”.  If you have brown hair - not really a slave.  OK, that last one was just me being a bitch, but you get the point.  I think it’s up to the people IN the relationship to decide for themselves and not the know-it-alls.  That’s an OPINION.  I think it’s up to the Master to decide what’s best for his slave.  That’s an OPINION.  I think it’s up to the Master to decide if/when/where/how she does anything she does, not the fucking arrogant pricks who are delusional enough to believe they know what’s the universal way to be.  That’s an OPINION.  So, thank you judgemental moron for deciding what’s the proper way for me to be because I was under the impression that was MY DADDY’S job!!  What the hell was I thinking?? 

OK, OK, I’m getting all riled up…..best to end this rant now.

We were inseparable from that night on.  Our relationship moved so fast that it really was a whirlwind romance.  Within a week of meeting we were exclusively only seeing each other.  2 months later in December he asked me to marry him and in July (only 7 months after our engagement) we got married.  From the night we met to the day we got married was barely 9 months!!

We had gone to an adult toy store to pick up a few things and when we got back out to his car he asked me to stop seeing other guys.  I was so happy that he wanted us to date exclusively!  I broke it off immediately with my fuck buddy and dropped whatever other flings I was having and became only his girlfriend.  Then in December one night after we’d finished fucking, he rolled over and said “I love you, do you want to get married?”  I laughed because I thought he was kidding.  He wasn’t laughing so I asked him if he was serious and he said he was.  I said “OK”.  That was how the engagement happened. lol  We fucked like bunnies, he said he loved me, asked if I wanted to get married and my response was saying “OK”. lol  How July 6th became our wedding date was funny too.  We decided to live together in my apt. because the rent was cheaper and the lease on his apt. was up at the end of July.  The first Saturday in July was the 6th. so that’s how it came to be our wedding date.  So romantic huh?  A wedding date set due to the expiration of an apt. lease!! lol  

Everyone said we were fools and we were making the biggest mistake of both of our lives.  Everyone said we were moving too fast and it would never work out.  They also thought the only reason we were getting married so fast was because I was pregnant.  I wasn’t, but they kept an eye on my waistline for months just in case I was lying. lol  My family tried every way in the world to talk me out of it.  They wanted us to wait, but we were in love, wanted to tie the knot and make it official.  When it’s real and true love you know it so why wait?  When he told me that he loved me for me and that he would NEVER leave me, I knew it in my heart to be true.  I knew I wanted to be his wife and I’d never been more sure about anything else in my life.  I was barely 20 years old and he was 25.  By the time the next October rolled around and we’d known each other for a year, we’d also been married to each other for 3 months.  I don’t regret getting married so young at all.  In a lot of ways it’s like he raised me and he really is my Daddy. 

In the beginning of our marriage we were essentially just playing house, but then reality sets in and the honeymoon period is over.  Over the years we have survived things that most marriages don’t and came together stronger for it.  There have been so many uphill battles, so many twists and turns in the road that we never saw coming, but we made it through it all with our union intact.  I love him more today than I did 12 years ago on this day just because of what all we’ve been through together.  I never thought that I would experience real love - the kind of love they make movies about, but here we are.  We are a living testimony that true and lasting love really does exist. 

For the first 8 years ours was your typical type of marriage because I walked beside him in life as his partner.  We were equals.  We had kinky sex in the bedroom, but that’s all it was.  I’d known all my life that I was different, but I thought it was because I was “crazy”.  I had fantasies of being a used and abused sex slave, fantasies of him dominating me while I was totally powerless and under his control, but I didn’t know what it all meant.  I never brought it up because I was scared, ashamed, and didn’t want him to think I was weird.  I had never heard of BDSM and didn’t know that people lived their lives like that.  I didn’t know you could.  I bought into the whole equal partner thing as what I was suppose to be doing as a wife and didn’t know any other way of life.  Daddy didn’t know either. 

Then one day I was playing around on yahoo and saw a chat room called “BDSM” and I thought, “What’s that about?”  I had no way of knowing that clicking that button and going into that chat room was about to change my entire life.  I saw the words “domination”, “submission”, “power exchange” being thrown around and I felt a sudden jolt go through my body.  People were talking about the EXACT same things I had been feeling inside myself, but didn’t know what it was or what to do about it.  I talked to a few people about it all and of course many so called “Doms” wanted me to be their slave, I didn’t know any better so I went with it.  I was learning.  I researched BDSM on the internet and found one very helpful site that I learned a lot from called ”The Albany Power Exchange”.  I bought books, I did everything I could think of because the switch had been flipped and there was no going back.   After I was sure this was what I wanted out of life, I approached my Husband with it.  Talking to him about it was so hard to do.  Incredibly hard.  I was sure he was going to react badly to it.  I had played out the entire conversation in my mind and it did not end well.  I was convinced he’d think I was crazy or a freak and it could possibly hurt/ruin our marriage.  Imagine my surprise when he did not react badly and even admitted to having the same type of thoughts!!  I was in absolute disbelief that he also wanted to explore this further. He wanted to be the head of the household, he wanted me in the submissive “Yes Dear” wife role. No more 50/50 partnership.  To say I was overjoyed is an understatement.   I could not believe we were on the same page with this!! 

Like when we started out in the beginning of our marriage, our road to where we are now was an uphill battle.  I had gotten use to the way things had been for so long that ACTUALLY giving up control was hard.  I loved going further and exploring more of the kinky stuff, especially when we started into bloodsports *big grin*, but being submissive all the time proved much harder for me than I thought it would.  When you’re taught to be a strong, independent woman, and to never depend solely on a man, it’s scary to really let go of all that and become the opposite of what you were taught was right.  Since the change in our dynamic wasn’t easy and it didn’t happen over night, I thought there was something wrong with me and I was doing it “wrong”.  Then I thought it had to be him that was doing it “wrong”.  Eventually after months and months and months of trial and error we got into a groove.  We relaxed.  We took what we’d learned and applied it to where it worked for us, but for the most part I’ve just learned to follow his lead.  This was 4 years ago and we are both so incredibly happy with the way our dynamic is now that we wish we would’ve known about all of it sooner!! 

As we walk through our lives together, I will never again be by his side - I will always be right behind him following his lead. 

I love you Daddy!!  Happy Anniversary!!

Sunday, July 6 is our 12 year wedding anniversary.  Not 12 days, weeks or months, but 12 YEARS!  I was barely 20 years old when we got married, practically a child bride.  There were a lot of people who said we were making a huge mistake and I love how we’ve beat the odds and proved them wrong.  Love is a strange thing and sometimes it finds you when you least expect it.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the year 1995 when Daddy and I first met.  It was fate - pure and simple fate.  We were destined to find each other and to be together forever. 

This is part one of our love story. 

It was October of 1995, I was 19 years old and very wild.  I had just graduated from high school in May and had decided against college.  I had no real goals or direction in life - I was just drifting along.  I went out and partied with friends every night, slept till whenever, experimented with drugs and had indiscriminate sex with pretty much any guy willing to wear a condom.  I was extremely lucky that I never got an STD, seriously hurt or killed.  Every boyfriend I ever had eventually ended up leaving me because they said I was “crazy”.  These were the days before anyone knew about bipolar disorder so I actually started to believe that they were right and I was crazy.  I figured I was doomed to never have real love.  Then one night I met Daddy.  I thank God everyday for my Daddy.  He saved me.  He literally saved my life.

It was October 28, 1995 and I’d gone, alone, to a Halloween party called “The Freakers Ball” at a popular nightclub that I frequented.  There was a long line to get in and this older guy started chatting me up.  I wasn’t interested, but I played like I was so he’d pay my way into the club.  Once we got inside he asked for my phone number, I gave him a fake one and then ditched him.  Mean thing to do it was, but I was young.  I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it didn’t matter because I was having a blast dancing.  I danced alone and with a few guys until I got thirsty and then headed off to go get a coke.  Making my way towards the bar I ran into an old friend from high school named Cara.  We talked for a bit then she told me that she was there with some friends invited me to hang out with them.  I agreed.

One of her friends was a girl named Becky who turned out to be a real bitch, but the other friend was this tall and very attractive man….you guessed it - my future Hubby/Daddy!  :)  When Cara introduced me to him, I could feel the electricity between us immediately.  There was just something about him that spoke to me.  We all hung out together until the club closed and then we all went back to Cara’s apt. for a while.  I really liked him and was hoping he’d ask me out.  I didn’t think anything would really come of it, certainly not a 12 year marriage, but he was cute and nice and I knew I’d like to fuck him.  It was getting really late and as I was getting ready to leave he FINALLY asked me out!  He gave me his phone number and asked me to call him later when he got home from work.

I was excited and nervous as I waited all day for him to get home so I could call him.  I didn’t think he’d remember me since the night before he’d been a little tipsy when he gave me his phone number (he was old enough to drink) but as it turned out he did remember me!!  We made plans to go out that night and I had butterflies in my stomach as I gave him directions to my apt.  Turns out I’m lousy with directions and he got lost.  I thought I had been stood up and was crushed until I thought about the directions I gave him and realized he was probably lost.  I called Cara to try to find a way to get a hold of him and he’d gone to her apt looking for a way to get a hold of me!!  Welcome back to the age before cell phones.  :)  He said he thought I was standing him up by giving him false directions, we laughed about the confusion, I gave him the correct directions and a few minutes later he was in my living room!!  I gave him the grand tour of my place which wasn’t much since I was 19 and working in a shit-hole that pretended to be a restaurant.  Then we left and went on our first date.  He took me to a real restaurant that was fabulous and to see a horror movie.  :)  We ended up back at his apt. and talked for a while until his phone rang.  It was Cara having some kind of crisis so we drove over to her apt. to find out what was going on.  For the life of me I don’t remember what her deal was or how she wound up with us on our date, but she did.  The three of us then went back at his apt. and she played on his computer while we made out on his bed wishing we’d never gone to pick her ass up!  I went with him to take her back home and then we went back to his apt.  Shesh!!  It had already been an eventful first date, but once we were finally alone…. OH MY GOD!!!  Fireworks is the only way to describe it!!  He fucked me like no man had ever fucked me and I felt pleasures beyond my wildest dreams!!  We fell asleep for awhile and then he took me home around 4 am because he had to be at work early that morning.  I figured that was it.  Another one night stand and my heart sank because I REALLY liked him.  I was hoping to hear from him again, but I didn’t put a lot of faith in it.  I was shocked and sooo happy when he called me later on that day and came over to my apt.!!!!

*To Be Continued*

Happy 4th of July everyone!!  This is my first attempt at writing an erotic story - hope you enjoy! 

She needs to be beaten, to feel humiliated and degraded.  She’s already sunk so low, but it isn’t enough to quench the ache.  There has to be more that he could draw out of her.  Hold her down.  Slap her.  Rape her.  Shock her.  Yell obscene words in her face.  Make her look him in the eyes, make her repeat the filthy words back to him.  Fuck her mercilessly.  Make her cry!  Make her cry!  She really needs the emotional release that tears would bring.  She also needs to be made love to, she needs to be held and gently stroked as she whimpers quietly.  She needs him to leave his mark.  She needs the pain.  She needs to be bruised.  Broken.  Break her mind.  Break her spirit.  Break her heart.  Then he can rebuild them.

She’s kneeling before him looking him in the eyes.  She’s scared, but curious.  His eyes look cold and menacing.  He slaps her and she winces from the sudden pain.  Then he’s on her, his hands clasped tightly around her throat and she can’t breath.  He lets go and starts molesting her body while she’s gasping in air.  She wants to run and hide.  She can’t face her own truth.  She can’t accept her desire to be dominated by him, to be beaten into submission until she’s nothing more than a pile of sniveling snot on the floor.  The feeling, this need inside her is not new, but it is scary.  He’s penetrating her again, claiming what is his.  She gives in to the need.  Gives herself over to him and drowns in her desire.  He makes her say it.  To admit it out loud and she does without hesitation.  She screams that she craves the abuse, that she wants nothing more than to be his puppet and his whore.  He smiles at her.  She lowers her head and softly smiles too.  He’s the one.  He’s her center.  He’s the one who will break her down and then heal her.  Salvation.