My Perspective: Control – Part 2 Maybe

There is a story I read early on in our relationship called Comfort Foods by Kitty Thomas.  It struck a nerve in me at the time that I didn’t understand but knew the images and feelings it incited in me would haunt me throughout my relationship with Sir.

The story is about a woman who is kidnapped (put aside the non-concensual aspect for a moment) and eventually convinced to devote her life to the happiness of her captor.  Even when she is set free, she returns and begs his ownership and doesn’t care about his unique methods of punishing her.   Since I was new and in the throes of sub frenzy, I firmly believed this was possible in the real world and pleaded to Sir that this was what I needed.  It took quite awhile to distinguish between the concept of this fantasy, what Sir and I actually needed, and what is possible in the real world.   This is not to say that some aspects of the story do not ring true or that some relationships like the one in the story do not exist.  But over the years,  the concept of control and surrender have clarified through experience and increased knowledge of kink and myself.

However this story still comes to mind and tempts me with the slave’s single-minded sense of purpose and total lack of control.  It exists like Shangri-La just out of reach across a bridge hidden in the fogged draped mountains.   But is this something I would truly want and enjoy or as Sir tells me, eventually I wouldn’t appreciate the sameness of that kind of existence?  Do I need to experience the fullness of life that exists in our reality?  I have no answer since life isn’t an experiment where I can exist in multiple realities and test the outcome.  But I know I love a challenge and need variety in what I learn and do.  I crave the adventure of unexplored territory and the shock of the “first-ness” of experiences.  I will push and poke life until a new situation is created to satisfy my cravings.  My life runs the gamut from A-type personality control to blithering idiot hog tied by Sir experiencing multiple orgasms believing I am mere embodiment of Sir’s fantasies.  Each moment of our relationship is a challenge and I must appreciate that moment for what it is and not dwell on what it isn’t.

It has not been easy existing in a long-distance, power exchange relationship with Sir and perhaps most power exchange relationships are difficult at times.  I don’t know but I do know I have had to learn to adjust to the changes in control and to know my audience.  I may crave one type of control and not be in that situation.  I told Sir NO recently about some silly thing and I still giggle at the shocked look on his face.  Yup, good example of wrong time and place to think I could be in control.  I experience withdrawal of Sir’s total control following our play sessions and I have had to learn to slowly adapt to once again becoming that A-type personality directing the action.  Topping Sir further complicated how I acted and what I felt but my feelings have coalesced into enjoyment of those moments of physical control over Sir.   Lately, I imagine an internal slide of control with myself as the peg sliding back and forth freely responding appropriately to the challenges of life. Well, it’s my goal and I still struggle but it is getting easier.  If I could get a wish machine, I would prefer to be caged while waiting for Sir but Amazon just doesn’t carry it.

Understanding the control aspect of my personality has been the hardest thing I have undertaken in this journey with Sir.  Once I realized I was kinky and a submissive, I hated myself for this quality and I felt it was wrong in a PE relationship.  It was something to rid myself of like walking in something disgusting stuck to the bottom of my shoe.  I had to reconcile my ever-emerging submissive self with my controlling personality that had dominated my life.  I now appreciate my talents of management and organization and control over my life but I may not love this part of myself yet.   Comfort Foods still haunts me and excites me and lures me into my own fantasy land.  But in a way, Sir has given me my fantasy.  I am caged in this waiting-land listening for his texts or the words “meet me”.  I try with all of my actions to reflect the goodness of Us.  But most importantly Sir has given a purpose to my self-control.

There is a new realization that perhaps internal self-control is just as important to me as the external physical and mental control Sir has over me.  It is self-control with a purpose influenced by our relationship that adds to the strength and appreciation I feel in myself and my own abilities.  It is our relationship that clarifies what is important to me and who I am.   It seems so obvious to me now that my fantasy of Comfort Foods is an attempt to avoid situations that require self-control.  It is so tiring to figure out the right thing to do – to think – to feel every day and getting to that moment of surrender to Sir during our play sessions feels so wonderful.  But I can’t live like that and I can’t avoid the responsibility of life and I must have control over myself.  It goes without saying that it also takes self-control to endure the physical play we engage in. It is self-control that allows me to test my trust and love in Sir and build to that moment of enjoyable torture that internally screams surrender (Ok sometimes externally also).

All that I have written seems so obvious to me now and I wonder if Readers question my intelligence but I am the reflection of my own journey.  I know I have come a long way in my understanding of kink and probably have a long way to go yet.  Perhaps my slow awareness is the result of the waiting and my sudden conversion to kink.  I don’t know or care.  I do know that as I sit here waiting, I appreciate the control Sir allows me over my life today since it is also in his power to remove it.  But I also appreciate the memory of meeting Sir the other day and that moment I ceased to exist outside his total control.

My Perspective: Control is Part 1.
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KOTW: Socks

Due to working a holiday retail job, I have not been able to write and I admit, words are boiling in my head in a chaotic fashion with fits and starts of topics and musing and even erotica and I am having trouble organizing what to write about.  And there in my Inbox was the topic of socks provided by Kink of the Week!  Perfectly acceptable topic to quell my writing urge and yet I do not find socks sexy.   There is nothing wrong with a sock fetish .. I just do not get turned on by my socks or anyone else’s.  I may be influenced by Sir’s preference for bare feet that are neatly pedicured but I think socks elicit a maternal feeling inside me and not a kinky one.  At the sound of the slightest sniffle, my first words are “Go put socks on!”.

However I only like certain socks and I want my feet to feel warm and toasty.  My socks must be color coordinated to my clothing or blend into obscurity.   No cutesy socks for me with stripes, designs, polka dots, ears, noses, etc.  I dislike cold feet immensely and there are times post-play I wish to put socks on but Sir doesn’t like me to be clothed in any way so I refrain.  Cold feet it is!  And toe socks!  I shudder even thinking about them with their individual constriction of my toes.  I can remember my aunt giving me a pair of toe socks way back in ancient times (the 1960′s) and my irritability at having to wear them to show my appreciation.  Ugh!  But then I don’t understand why it feels so wonderful to have my toes wrapped in rope by Sir.  Go figure.

I can’t answer yes to any of the sock questions in the KOTW prompt although socks with sandals on men or women makes me queasy.  However, on other people I think socks can be a fun fashion statement and I look longingly at the thigh high socks and wish I had a motive to try them.  I filled the holiday stockings with socks this year since who doesn’t need socks!?  And the socks were fun socks, striped socks, and fuzzy socks that I would never be caught dead in so in a way I inflicted on everyone clothing I would not wear myself, :) .

As the forecast calls for a drop in temperature to about 8, I know my feet will be socked and slippered and I never walk barefoot in my house.  Perhaps this just means I should vacuum more but I dislike the feeling of the cold floor on my feet.  At night I rub foot softener into my feet and think of Sir and hope my feet are soft and acceptable.  I put my socks back on and the cream soaks into my feet and get toasty warm and I wish Sir was there to touch my feet and most of all, tie me up.  This certainly sounds like a ritual to me and socks are part of it so just maybe socks are kinky to me.

 

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Again with the Waiting

Sir and I have been at this long distance relationship thing for over 4 years now and I always lament that there is not some milestone where it simply gets easier.  I can look back and see that my view of waiting has changed over time but that is because our relationship has changed and we have changed as individuals.  The one constant though is it doesn’t get easier.  We are not alone in this struggle of maintaining a relationship despite the distance factor as the LDR groups on Fetlife and vanilla relationships such as military families attest to.  It is difficult but it can also create an atmosphere where the strength of the relationship is confirmed.

There is now a rhythm and acceptance to our waiting and subsequent meeting that was lacking in the beginning of our relationship.  Despite the peaceful imagining those 2 words bring to mind, the period of waiting can be frustrating.  We have our methods of maintaining the relationship, the friendship, and the power exchange between us while we wait.  None of this came about instantly but evolved with Sir’s addition of various rules and the changing nature of our relationship.  If I don’t talk with Sir for a few days, it doesn’t mean the relationship is over but simply that he is busy.  I can type this so easily but it has taken years to truly believe this and there are still times my heart lurches in fear.   A long distance relationship takes faith, trust, friendship, and respect but most of all, it takes believing in yourself and personal strength.

Let’s face it .. being apart is hard!  There are those days when the body just needs to be tied up or the butt spanked  or a hug felt but the day of meeting is undefined.  There are methods of coping but there is nothing like knowing Sir is at the end of that whip or feeling his hand brush my skin as he applies a rope.  Everything else pales in comparison.  Keep busy.  Keep active.  Run.  Overload the mind with endless to-do lists until that tingling urge is muted.  Wait because he says to.  Surrender to that pain of waiting and find enjoyment in that pain and turn aside from that resignation that another day of waiting begins.  And if it is not the body getting inpatient, it is the heart or the mind wanting company, wanting to discuss the world or just to hear his rare laugh at my silly life.  Just wait for that phone call and know it will happen if not today then tomorrow.  Wait.

But I have come to realize this is the easy part.  It is not the distance from Sir that tortures me but the distance between the versions of myself.  It is this dichotomy of my identities that splits apart and denies the existence of the other as I wait, that is the torture.  While I wait, I throw myself into my life with my usual controlling self and deny that submissive part of me, berate it, hide it, and put it in a closet of shame.  I did this for half a century and it is a method that comes easily to me.   Then we meet and this transformation takes place and I wonder who the hell that controlling person is?  Who am I?  Which version of me is the real me?  I have struggled with this transformational process and identity crisis back and forth over the years thinking that if I analyzed it enough, the answer would reveal itself to me and life would be easy.  Why I have felt this dichotomy so astutely, I don’t know.

The answer is simple of course, there is only one me playing to different audiences on different stages with the appropriate lines and face paint.  I don’t always easily find those correct lines on Sir’s stage and sometimes I don’t even want to.  I struggle.  I fight.  I doubt.  And sometimes I want to run so badly but I don’t because I can’t and I know I don’t want to.  Finally I surrender to Sir’s direction and days later, I must find and accept the responsibilities as the director when all I truly wish to do is to serve Sir in any way that I can.  I have rituals I created to put me in the appropriate mindset for acceptance of the two extremes but even these are little help if I don’t wish to accept my part to play.  But there is only one stage in one theater.  It is really about accepting that I am one person capable of being in control but I am always Sir’s property.  The struggle inside me is part of the rhythm of finding the correct role and speaking the correct lines.  The struggle is not against the relationship but against my self-identity as one who needs to submit as much as I need air.

Sir and I see each other tomorrow and I am preparing but also fighting inside myself every second.   I am desperate in my need to see Sir but my need is tempered with the knowledge of how quickly the time will fly by.  Doubts and questions enter my mind and I wonder what will happen and how I will react and I doubt my strength.  Tears form as I fear he will call and tell me let’s not bother with meeting even though I know this won’t happen.  The spotlight is simply on my role as his and I simultaneously marvel at my desire to show him I do belong to him and my equal desire to say Hell No.  Is the tension inside me lust, anticipation, fear, desire to submit, desire to control or some mix that is undefinable?  Above all else, I wish to be genuine and not hide behind a mask so I ask why?  I ask what is this magic between us that humbles me before him?  Why do I submit to this self-torment?  Who am I?  And why if I want it so badly, is it so difficult to surrender?

I know I will prepare and drive to meet him.  It is because he owns me and I am that person who is his.   The focus tomorrow will be on that fight inside me but I know it is a battle already won by him.  For those few brief hours, the focus will be on Us and not the daily details of life, obligation, and responsibility.  Those things can certainly wait a day can’t they?   Just let me have those hours to feel whole, alive, happy and truly myself and set aside that other role that I must play.  When I have to wait again, I will try with all my might to be not two people but one person with all aspects of my personality melded together into one body and I have to accept this and make it work for me not against me.  Sir wants all of me not selective pieces.  Trust.  Have faith.  That is what carries me through the last hours, minutes, seconds of waiting.  Soon Sir.

 

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