Ropes, whips, and relying on trust are all important methods of controlling my questioning and extinguishing doubts.  However it is Sir’s acceptance of my questioning nature that lays my doubts to rest.  I do not have to fear a part of my personality and fear rejection and abandonment.  For the longest time, I held my questions inside me or feared when I finally voiced them, Sir would walk away.  But now I can question his motives, my understanding, or whatever I need to do without fear of ridicule or banishment.  If my questions are an attempt to seize control, Sir will handle it correctly and I can trust that.  If my questions are due to ignorance, I can trust on enlightenment from his words.  If my questions are just irrational expressions of my own power, I can trust that his control will bind me to him.  I no longer have to fear a part of me and my questions are not an obstacle to my happiness, rather my questions are a source of happiness.  I can finally embrace this part of me.

Ever since I read Carrie, I have been obsessed with the idea of pony play.  I only learned of the existence of pony play in the last few years as the breadth of my kinky knowledge has spread beyond the obvious.  Of course, my fascination with horses started at an early age with games of pretending to be a horse.  My favorite stuffed animals were horses and puppies but my kinky obsession only tends towards pony play not necessarily pet play.  Every Christmas and birthday, the first thing on my list was a horse.  My parents tried to satisfy this “horsey” need with lessons and opportunities to ride, but it was never enough for me.  Curiously, my fantasies were not singularly fixated on being a horse but also controlling the horse with whips and spurs.  Later on in my late 20′s, I did get a horse and participate in show competitions.  But it was those moments of brushing her, feeding her an apple, braiding her mane and tail and her nuzzling me back that I miss most.  And yes, the smell of manure, leather, and horse is wonderful to me.

Once I read Carrie and learned about pony play, the memories of my early childhood dreams of being a horse came flooding back with a vengeance.  There is an old horse track where I run and I can’t help running around the track imagining a bit in mouth, naked pulling a little cart with Sir flicking the whip at my buttocks.  I often smile and giggle and most passing runners must wonder why.  I can almost imagine the feel of the harness and the weight of the cart and Sir as I run and wonder if I have the strength.  But I also can’t help imagining rebelling and wanting my freedom, being that horse on the plains viewing the horizon and not wanting to be captured but finally yielding my spirit to this strange, 2-legged creature that needs me and wants the best for me.  It is the symbolism of pony play that draws me in … the containment of that wild, passionate energy and surrendering it to that one Master who knows its value and treasures it.  I yearn for the not just the physical challenge and difficult mental surrender but also the aftercare following a pony play session and the ability to nuzzle Sir as he rubs me down and perhaps feeds me an apple.

Is this something I truly desire or a fantasy of environment and opportunity of permission?  There is the reality of me who would be totally humiliated and ashamed of my fantasy made real.  I do not deal well with humiliation and wonder if mentally I could surrender in this situation.  If presented with the opportunity to participate in pony play, there is a part of me that might get “into it” but is the reality of the situation a burden I can’t shed?  I feel tremendous shame just contemplating a bit in my mouth .. shame that I desire this, shame that society in general would think me insane.  I think, would I cry hysterically and disappoint Sir and simply refuse with intense rebellion?   But this fantasy is always at the edge of my thoughts teasing me and sometimes propelling me to the pony play groups to look for a trainer.  I believe some fantasies are meant to remain fantasies but whether this is true of pony play for me, I just don’t know.

I like these “30 Days of” memes but don’t always feel like following the prompts in order so I will do my own thing.  I found this one on Molly’s Daily Kiss but she references Insatiable Desire.  So I will use these prompts when my own personal well of ideas runs dry.

• Day 1: Dom, sub, switch?  What parts of BDSM interest you?  Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you.  Basically define your kinky self.
• Day 2: List your kinks.
• Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?
• Day 4: Any early experiences that in retrospect, hint at your kinds?
• Day 5: What was your fist kinky sexual experience?  If you haven’t had one yet, talk about what you hope to have happen.
• Day 6:  Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.
• Day 7:  What is your favorite toy?
• Day 8: Post a kinky image you find erotic.
• Day 9: Post a kink related song or music video you enjoy.
• Day 10: What are your hard limits?
• Day 11:  What are your views on the ethics of kink?
• Day 12:  Tell us about a humorous BDSM/kinky experience you’ve had.  If you haven’t had one, talk about aspects of BDSM/kink you find funny.
• Day 13:  Explain as best you can what the appeal of BDSM/kink is to you?  Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?
• Day 14: How would you say real life BDSM/kink varies from fantasy BDSM/kink? If you haven’t expereienced real life BDSM or kink how do you think it might differ?
• Day 15: Post a BDSM/kinky activity you’re curious about and would like to try.
• Day 16: What are the most difficult aspects of having a sexuality that involves kink or BDSM for you personally?
• Day 17: What misconception about kinky people would you most like to clear up?
• Day 18: Any BDSM/kinky pet peeves?  If so, what are they?
• Day 19: Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life? If so, what are they?
• Day 20: Talk about something within BDSM or kink that you are curious about/don’t understand.
• Day 21: Favorite BDSM related book (fiction or non-fiction).
• Day 22: What do you think is important in keeping a BDSM relationship healthy? How does it differ from a vanilla relationship?
• Day 23:  Since you first developed an interest in kink, have your interests/perspectives changed?  How so?
• Day 24: What qualities do you look for in a partner?
• Day 25: How open are you about your kinks?
• Day 26: What’s your opinion about online BDSM play?
• Day 27:  Do your non-kinky interests ever find their way into your kinky activities? If so, how?
• Day 28:  How do you dress for BDSM/kinky play?  What significance does your attire have to you?
• Day 29:  Do you have a BDSM title (mistress, master, slut,pig, whore, Sir)?  What is your opinion of these titles in general?
• Day 30: Whatever BDSM/kinky related thing you want to write about.

I grew up on the eve of change during the 60′s or at least to a child, it appeared everything was changing ahead of me.  The Civil Rights and Women’s Movement, free love, the Vietnam War, drugs, rock n’ roll, and revolution all appeared just about to happen but I was too young to participate.  By the time I was allowed out of the house and I wasn’t playing with my Barbies, the revolution had moved on and I was left out of step with the concepts I believed in and yet I hung onto them.  Computers and the internet were ideas of bright people and science fiction and the local public library certainly did not carry Lady Chatterley’s Lover.  There was talk of free love and the evils of pornography but not bondage, BDSM or pain.  Within my home, sex was never discussed and I wore white gloves and patent leather shoes to church.  This was the environment I grew up in.

Typically, my first experience with ropes was playing a game of wild horses and owner with the neighborhood gang when I was 6.  I loved it when I was lassoed and made to “pull” the owner around the yard .  Although the other kids soon tired of this game, I never tired of it and would wish to play it even now.  My teenage years were a time of lost virginity and searching for love in all the wrong places.  By the time I was in college, I was a hippie and a staunch feminist.  For 3 years, I didn’t shave any parts of my body (don’t gasp in horror Sir!).  If I had found my way to a commune, I might still be there.  I felt life was a competition with men and women better come in first just like Billie Jean.  I would shudder when I observed naked women on the covers of magazines and wonder how they could degrade themselves.  Yet secretly I would wonder how it felt to be naked and have others gaze at me.

Although love was free, it was strictly vanilla and totally uninteresting to me.  Perhaps there was something wrong with me, I would think, that I find much ado about nothing concerning sex.  It was not until I was in my early 20′s that I experienced my first orgasm and still I felt something was just not right.  The breadth and depth of my sexual knowledge was zilch.  I did not know of masturbation or vibrators or ropes.  I did experience bondage once in my 20′s but it was inexpertly done and I didn’t shout Euruka! This is what was missing!  I would read romance novels until I was dripping wet and think men like this are a work of fiction and women’s fantasies.  None of the men I had ever encountered could go toe to toe with me and survive.  I would date, conquer, and move on and search on for that real man I could respect.

Life progressed and was filled with other responsibilities and obligations and I felt if I worked hard enough, I could forget my search and find satisfaction and happiness in other areas of my life.  I see now I fulfilled my needs with challenging professions, hobbies, and projects.  I tucked my sexuality inside the veil of motherhood and volunteerism and sadly stopped searching for that missing piece of myself.  I was so good at hiding my true self with acceptable behavior within my vanilla cocoon that I gave up my search until I hit my 50′s.  And then I found someone online that I connected to and could discuss my rediscovered dissatisfaction with life and sex.  One day, I typed the words “I think I want to be tied up.”  I didn’t plan on typing those words or think it through.  I had never seen a picture of a bound woman.  The closest I had gotten to BDSM and the kinky world was Lady Heather on CSI.  I think now those episodes awakened me (Thank you CBS) because my fantasies changed and became slightly kinky.  My sexuality and needs were very repressed but they wanted to break out and make themselves known.

I started an online relationship with my friend and we made some wonderful memories and began to unearth my sexuality.  He got me my first vibrator and started me on my path of “firsts”.  Our relationship went on for awhile but I found I wanted real time play and found someone who unfortunately was a poser.  Luckily I wasn’t killed or permanently harmed because I certainly went about the process all wrong.  I did no research on BDSM since I didn’t know those letters.  Domination and submission were just words unconnected to what I was feeling.  That inner slut was clawing to get out but couldn’t get past the fears, the repression, the ignorance, the “good girls don’t do that” obstacles.  I was a mess but a curious mess that knew things could be better and different.

And then Sir and I found each other and I could finally shout Eureka!  My search is over!  Sir was willing to take the raw materials that were me and mold me into something that was still me yet totally different.  I can look back now on our 3 years together and point to those moments where I let some of that inner slutty slave out, learned respect, trust, and friendship and our relationship shifted.  It has not been easy to look at the near-misses of my life and accept all that lost time I could have been true to myself but then I wouldn’t perhaps know Sir.  It is a worthy trade-off and I do not regret taking the road less traveled by, because it has made the difference.

(30 Days of Kink – Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky)

Sir’s primary intent was to formalize the unwritten contract between us and provide an open, non-confrontation forum for discussion of our relationship, our needs and wants, and also identify what we don’t yet know of each other and our relationship.  The power exchange aspect of our relationship was not our intent and it began and grew out of discussions and discovery of what could be.  I had feelings of ownership and service before I knew the words.  I would read Fetlife and Submissive Guide and wonder what it all meant.  Sir and I would discuss all my questions and to me we had this exchange of power that Sir magically created.  The contract is a manner of providing a definition of the power exchange between us and in its entirety.   I certainly didn’t grasp the magnitude of it.  I also didn’t understand how as a protocol,  the contract would make me feel inside emotionally, mentally, and surprisingly, physically.

Although I have surrendered most areas of my life to Sir, there are some aspects of my life that I retain control over.  The contract delineates the the boundaries of his control, and within this area, Sir controls what he wishes, when he wishes.  I think having the boundaries of our power exchange relationship clearly defined will prevent miscommunication and misunderstandings in the future as Sir expands our limits. Upon further reflection, I found that some areas of my life that should have been important to me were no longer a priority if I misinterpreted the importance to Sir.  I was rather shocked that this feeling had crept up on me.   Sir tightened control in these areas and closed any perceived loopholes on my part.  I hadn’t connected this feeling to the anxiety that I experienced occasionally.

The long distance nature of our relationship sometimes presents obstacles to communication.  Frequently, I may forget something I really wish to discuss until some action reminds me (yes I should write notes!).  We are both busy and neither of us noted the passage of time until this year when it hit us, we have been together 3 years.  I really like the idea of contract renewal as a reflection time for both of us.  Are our needs the same and are they met?  Have life circumstances forced us to compromise or neglect our relationship or perhaps enhanced it?  Modern life is full of distractions and it is just as easy to not pay attention to a kinky relationship just as a vanilla relationship.   We also introduced the concept of porch time borrowed from the Living M/s book.  In the past, I have rebelled when really I just needed to talk as equals.  Porch time is now documented in our contract as a concept we both understand and can initiate.

In thinking about our contract, I have reexamined my limits and updated them.  Sir and I discussed the role of having a safe word.  Personally, I dislike having a safe word and realize I have to have it but Sir and I must have this occasional discussion and reinforce my understanding of its usage.   I resist thinking about limits and safe words because I seem to have this inner need to trust Sir, to be fearless, and challenged.  It is sitting on the beach and seeing the horizon of where the sky meets the ocean and knowing it goes beyond my view.  I must have this view of a future without limits and safe words.  The contract insures I still feel this way and my opinion hasn’t changed.

One of my biggest fears is abandonment and having the dissolution and exit sections has forced me to confront this fear and think about what can be done to alleviate my concerns.  No one can predict the future and I think our contract provides us with a foundation with which to deal with the unexpected, to handle and discuss our journey, and to reconnect with our needs.  It doesn’t mean these topics are off limits outside the discussion of a contract but insures we do discuss them.  It says to me Stop! Take a moment and reflect at least once a year.

This is a great topic for the Submissive Blog Hop Challenge.  I have been thinking about it and jotting down my ideas for days.  I have learned so much from Sir, some of it perhaps I should have known through my own prior research but I was frightened (OK, terrified) of the kinky world.  Good girls did not google BDSM, submission, or vibrators.  Sir had daunting task ahead of him but also a clean slate as he recently described me.  Below are 7 things I have learned but also continue to learn from Sir:

1.  My education has been an experience driven discovery of the kinky world.  From the beginning, Sir educated me about terms such as switch, top/bottom, safe words and so much else but I resisted for months due to my rigid out-dated morals.  I would blush when reading the BDSM checklist and not make it beyond the first few items.  Eventually I overcame my reluctance and found the internet informative.  But more importantly, Sir educated me how to look at my kink.  It was less about labels and more about actions and feelings and discovering who I am.  He taught me there is no “right” way or prescribed path to perfect submission.  There is our journey with its twists and turns and enjoyment and discovery of each other.  This way of looking at myself with an open mind is how I look at others and their kink.

2.  Since our relationship is a long distance one, I have had to learn how to wait.  It has been difficult to master delayed gratification and patience but I have discovered the positive aspects to waiting.  During our time apart, I focus on other goals in my life and attempt to make some progress.  However, it will always be difficult but I know I please him if I just wait quietly until we meet again.

3. I constantly forget that I exist for Sir’s pleasure.  I may find our relationship, his rules and our play pleasurable but these things exist for his pleasure.  It is not up to me to ask why continually but to exist and enjoy along with him.  I am not in control whether it be my feeble attempts to top from below or to over think situations.  I learn and then relearn this lesson .. he is in control, not me.

4. The concept of trust had been elusive my entire life.  With Sir’s help, I have gotten beyond holding myself back from him and do not wait for the condemnation, rejection, and abandonment that I always believed would come at a moment’s notice.  With his honesty and integrity, his actions and words, the trust I have in Us, in him and in myself continually grows.

5. By pushing my physical and mental limits, Sir has helped me to recognize my inner strength and overall sense of self.  I feel capable of doing what I set out to do and I don’t focus on the obstacles.  It is knowing that the woman who is bound and endures is still there every waking minute and can overcome the inertia of fear of failure and lack of purpose.

6. Until I heard my first “good girl” from Sir’s lips, I didn’t realize how craved for validation I was.  I was always haunted by self-doubts and recriminations that I could be better no matter how successful I was.  It is still a struggle but when Sir says I have done well, it fills me with a sense of pride and value that I have never had before and I start to think maybe I am not so bad after all.

7.  Sir found my inner slut hidden behind prudish barricades and obstacles of ignorance surrounding the vanilla social fortress.  From the first moment he tied me up, he has lead me on a journey of hedonistic pleasure but has also challenged me to overcome my distaste or dislike of some toys or play.  I have discovered it is the things I hate most that I love equally as well.

Although I have learned many things from my reading on the internet, I have needed Sir to push and challenge me beyond my immediate comprehension.  Reading about submission can only tell me what submission is like for that person.  I needed Sir to present the challenge to dig deep within myself and figure out who I was and how my submission is defined.  Both types of learning have their place in my growth in knowledge of myself and my submission and that is a journey without a destination.  As I read this, I can’t help but say “Thank you Sir.”

I was punished this last weekend for breaking one of Sir’s rules.  I was shackled and made to kneel for what felt like hours (it wasn’t) but the exact time didn’t matter.  It took something I enjoy doing and turned it into punishment and now each time I kneel in joy, a part of me will remember the punishment.  And just as I know I will disobey in the future, I also resolve to follow every rule to perfection.  The rules are my reminders that Sir is in control and that is something I should never forget .. and yet I do!

I need obedience in my submission and in order for my submission to feel valid, I require punishment when I am disobedient.  If I am not punished for infractions of the rules, I do not feel controlled or owned and lack a purpose in the relationship.  My obedience delineates the purpose in my life and when I am disobedient, I am like a wild animal running from everything and everyone and the cliff gets closer and closer. Punishment finds my lost soul and corrals me and provides me with safety and peace. If I am not punished, I feel abandoned.  Punishment is the redefining force in our power exchange relationship when I do wrong.

I do not seek punishment because I think it is fun.  I do not understand brattiness and it is not in the nomenclature of my submission.  My disobedience has roots in rebellion, exerting control, demanding thoughts, forgetfulness, and omission.  I do not look forward to punishment and yet my body responds to these overt signs of Sir’s control.  My mind however is wallowing in shame, grief that I disappointed him, and full of resolution to never disobey again (at least until the next time).  I am a perfectionist and each disobedient act is a blemish on my soul and hurts for days.  The punishment should provide me with a clean slate but it is slow to absolve me of my sin.

The punishment in our relationship can take many forms from the tone of Sir’s voice to non-communication to the whipping of my feet.  The mere mention of my feet snaps me to attention and correctness.  However punishment is ultimately about consequence to my bad acts and improved behavior in the future.  It can be simply acknowledgment by Sir that I broke a rule or did something that displeased him but I need Sir to notice and then I know that my behavior is important to him.  Knowing Sir is paying attention to me and my behavior makes me want to be a better person in all ways .. this goes beyond his rules.  Since Sir is paying attention to my behavior, I should also.  There is a connectivity from the rules I follow dictated by Sir to how I live my life and interact with people, how I look, and how I use my time and this gives me an overall purpose.  No one has ever asked me to be a better person or cared what I did and having a consequence maintains an awareness on my part.  I thank you Sir for paying attention to my behavior and punishing me.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

Just as I discovered kink in my 50′s, I also discovered running.  I was never a runner and believed those people out there running and inhaling the auto exhaust were insane.  I enjoyed other outdoor activities but running was not on my bucket list.  When I hit my 50′s, I realized the pounds had slowly crept upward, I was sluggish and tired all the time, and when I looked at other middle aged women, I could see the future.  I vowed to get into shape or at the minimum, I wanted to be healthy.  I started walking and gradually evolved to running a few minutes, then ten’s of minutes, then hours until now I run in half-marathons.  I became a passionate runner and I hope to stay a runner as I get older and continually find new running goals.  I also read about running and love the above quote because in its simplicity, it captures the essence of running and perhaps of how life is.

When I begin a run, I do not always start out with this gung ho attitude but I drag myself out there anyway and fight the mental excuse list that I carry around inside me.  ”Oh I should do the laundry”, “I should clean the house” .. you get the drift but there is a louder voice saying “You must run!” and that is that.  It always hurts to breathe for the first 5 minutes of my run and the urge to stop is there, to give up, to crawl back onto the couch and have a cookie; it is a very tough urge to overcome!  I find the only way to keep going is to never stop or give into that urge but to just keep swimming. Wait! I mean running.  I know after 5 minutes, my breathing will become steady and the pain will stop and in fact, my breathing is seldom labored and there is no panting or gasping for air.

I settle in as the first few miles are passed and my legs find their rhythm and my thoughts turn to looking at other people, the trees and the lake and I listen to my ipod.  I think of Sir, submission, my life, questions, answers and many other topics.  It is my time of introspection.  Everything becomes clear and I feel so much smarter than my normal day to day confused self.  Unfortunately, the answers are never clear once I stop running and even though I have attempted to write the answers to life’s problems down on my phone mid-run, the new found knowledge is never as clear as when I run.  I believe this is the time called the runner’s high and my brain is swimming in a soup of endorphins.

Once I hit 5 miles different body parts start to twinge and wake me from my contemplation.  The twinges float throughout my body randomly from my knees, to my feet, to my back or my hip and I keep running or I may stop and stretch and then resume running.  I know soon after all the hurts will join together into a orchestration of pain and I will remember suffering is optional.  The desire to stop and curl up into a little ball on the side of the trail is there but I don’t take that option, I keep running.  I mold the pain into a ball and put it into a little room and not dwell on it.  Of course, the door opens occasionally and I must stuff it back into the room and add a few more locks on the door but my legs keep propelling me forward.  There is that moment where my legs feel a separate body and they stride forward like an automaton.   Sometimes I actually speed up and I can’t slow down although I know my pace is too fast.  I struggle to finish the run as I deny the suffering and know it is my choice to identify my pain and feelings as suffering or as a wonderful feeling of freedom.  I keep choosing freedom run after run.

I can’t help but think how my relationship with Sir is reflected in my run.  My internal fight to submit to Sir is reflected in that urge to stop running but I also find freedom in my submission just as I find freedom in running.  It is the moment of surrender to Sir or to running and turning from the easier path of escape from Sir or sitting down on the trail that I enjoy.  I seek the harder path always but oh how simple (but yet unsatisfying) that other path looks.  There are also similarities to the way I process pain and deny its existence and find pleasure in the tightness of ropes or the sting of a whip.  There is a need inside me that seeks a containment of self, body, and emotions that obedience, bondage, pain and running satisfies.  It is as if I have no choice in the end although I know I do but then that is a denial of myself.

Is love a part of your dynamic? Can love coexist in a Master/slave relationship?

It seems only right that since I wrote recently about anger, I should write this week’s post about love.  Love as with submission has a personal meaning to each of us and when I write of love, I can only speak for myself and my own undefined feeling that I call love.  I have experienced love and it comes in many forms.  The love I have for my children, my dog and family is a vastly different feeling than how I feel about running but I use the word love in both cases.  And then there is infatuation, that feeling early in a relationship that is so intense it burns itself out quickly like a super nova, and whether it turns to love or dies a quick death, the outcome is unpredictable.  And if I look in a thesaurus for synonyms of love, I find adore, cherish, fondness and so many flavors  of love but yet each distinct in its emotional impact.  Perhaps some scientist could determine the chemical composition of my brain and say “Yup, she’s in love” but I can only know it when I feel it.

I have loved in the past and others have loved me.  I know once my partner has uttered the words “I love you”, it takes the form of a challenge in my head and I resolve to drive that person away.  How much can they tolerate?  Do they REALLY love me?  I don’t like this feeling but some partners have endured my obstacles.  But the love they have for me typically becomes this cloying, martyred love that suffocates me and I then leave the relationship.  I do not know how to let myself be loved .. I dread it and I fear it.

Love can exist in a Master/slave relationship but I would rather it didn’t for myself.  I can’t help it, I do love Sir.  But Sir feels somewhat like I do, we don’t like to dwell on the words but to let our actions speak our feelings.  Up until recently I told Sir I loved him but then I acknowledged to myself this is not what he needed.  There are times I am overwhelmed with emotions and I must utter something but I try to use other words and not the L-word.  I would find it difficult to not love my Master.  But I would rather my Master not love me but keep his distance and objectivity.  I wish to be all those other words in the thesaurus but not hear the word love.  It interferes with my ability to submit and to feel like a possession and owned.  I know some will say possessions can be loved but for myself, it is an obstacle.  Some may feel sad for me but I am not since this is who I am.  And I know our friendship is more than enough for me and it appears to have its own unique definition.

There have been those moments I told Sir I loved him and then there was that deep silence hanging in the air.  To be honest, I waited expectantly for reciprocity but it was not out of a need to be loved, it was more the beckoning of a tantalizing fear of venturing into the unknown.  Have I changed so much I can tolerate being loved or just maybe this is who I am?  I need the silence right now and I don’t want to risk the status quo.  The silence is still a line to be crossed, a dare to love me and ruin everything.  I think in the end, I fear being loved places me in control and I do not want that control.  I need the silence to continue.

This is a good topic to write about this week since I feel filled with anger about many things including my submission.  I am using the term submission as an aspect of my personality and not in the context of my relationship with Sir.  It is that tremendous need inside me that must feel owned that I get angry at.  ”Why am I like this?” goes unanswered, I just am.  I lament I am cannot be satisfied with myself as a stand-alone, independent entity that is quite capable in living life to its fullest.  I know it is pointless to be angry since this need inside me is part of me and it is like being angry at gravity.  I think my anger is really about acceptance of myself and what I need in order to be happy and feel fulfilled.

Acknowledging this need to be owned is the most difficult thing I have ever done in my entire life.   I was known for my ability to be independent and manage my own life and yet I wasn’t happy or pleased with my life.  It felt a farce and I was an actress on the stage with a mask of a smile plastered on my face.  One day I woke to the realization I needed someone to give me purpose and to own me and Sir found me and the result is happiness and peace and yet that strong, independent woman beckons at times.  It is the internal war inside me: ownership and bliss versus independence and control.  My anger today is simply a skirmish on the battlefield because I know my submission is a part of me and I cannot escape from it or destroy it.   Whatever I name this feeling inside me is a part of me that must be faced, looked in the eye, and say this is me.  There is nothing evil about needing ownership.  It does not say I am a weak person to actually need Sir more than air.  I feel the energy and power of the battle and I know the outcome.

If I know the outcome of the battle, why do I go through these occasional internal battles?  I accept them as the natural flow of life and know my anger will dissipate once I once again acknowledge my submission to Sir.  That energy and power is the source of the strength that made me successful in my long, vanilla life and at times, it is only natural to test the boundaries of his control just as I test the strength of the knots and ropes.  It is knowing I still have power to yield to Sir and that I am still me, independent and strong and it is just a matter of incorporating submission into that mix of personality characteristics.  It is the exchange of my power and control for happiness, fulfillment, and being all that I can be without denial and confusion.

My typical solution to this war is to go run and attempt to outrun myself and as I run, I will think and the battle will be over as I accept myself, know that Sir owns me, and peace will once again return to the Valley of bonimiss.   You just can’t outrun yourself, hide from yourself or deny yourself in the long run.  My anger sometimes gets the best of me and masks that it is not about vanquishing that strong, independent woman but knowing that woman belongs to Sir.