Bother and damnation

Not that he actually was, just that I'd had a vision thereof. JS is still firmly ensconced on the opposite side of the country from me.

We talked on the phone only once - for about two hours. I'm not a huge phone person, but a plea of "I'd just like to hear your voice", and it being 2 am and having nothing better to do, was hard to resist.

The thing was, J and I were back together by that point. It was difficult to admit that I loved J, but was still attracted to JS. I didn't do much of either, really. JS tried to call me on a few times, which I can't blame him for. What I did with him after J and I got back together wasn't necessarily right, but it was certainly enjoyable.

Oh, we never had another naked webcam show, but we'd still flirt, trade sexual innuendos, even a few risque pictures and the like. We're still very, very attracted to each other.

After I moved, JS dropped out of sight for a while, but I wasn't worried - I tend to do the same. Then I started getting hints that he had a girlfriend, or at the very least a woman he was seeing semi-regularly. I honestly can say that I was happy for him, because I knew that for a good long time, nothing could come of the "romance", as it were, between us, and that he needed someone who actually lived near him.

I talked to him soon after. Sure enough, he did have a girlfriend. Who was supposed to be a fling, but was a month pregnant. Who has the same name as me.

Well isn't that just a delightful turn?

He's always wanted children, and I know he'll be an excellent father - he's too committed to the idea of raising children right for him to be anything else.

The thing of it is, it hasn't really changed our relationship much. He came right out and said that he fully expects that, all of our other relationships aside, he and I will wind up in bed together someday, and that's the very least we owe each other. He also said that he'll always have some love for me, no matter what, no matter when.

It was touching, and reaffirming - I'd more or less expected a good sweaty bout of sex with him in the future myself, and it was good to know that I was on the same page still. But the comment about love really got to me. Yes, I'll always feel fondly about him, and it doesn't surprise me that he feels the same. But at the same time, I can't help but think that I'm setting up his current relationship to fail - never mind my own. I certainly don't want to lose touch with him, but I don't want to talk to him too often, because I don't want to be that woman, and have another female with my name (and who I have a sneaking suspicion resembles me) after my ass for breaking up her relationship. I'd be pissed in her shoes.

I don't think she suspects what has gone before between JS and myself - I know that J doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way. There's nowhere that JS and I can go, so why should I have the argument and strife with J? Anyway, I don't think the anti-french - or is that other-french? - knows. Or, if she does, she's remarkably tolerant. I know she's seen some of the things I've said to him over IM since I found out about here, and while they weren't risque, they bespeak a familiarity I have with him. I get the impression that she and I would get along perhaps a little too well for the liking of any male in the vicinity.

Ah well. For now, JS has to be a dream - a lovely one, at that, and one I find myself having on a regular basis - but a dream nonetheless. The time isn't right, but someday it will be. Hopefully I'll figure out what's going on with J before then.

Visions

The story so far: french is, for all intents and purposes, having some kind of messed-up e-affair with Joseph.

Now, I wouldn't have even consented to set up the webcam in the first place if I weren't absolutely sure that Joseph wasn't on the other end, taking screencaps, and then proceeding to post them on the internet. The same went for him - we trusted each other to keep this personal and private.

That didn't mean that the entire time we were naked for each other, I wasn't in a constant state of disbelief - disbelief that I was actually doing this, disbelief that there were now two men on the planet who have seen me naked (and still find me bizarrely attractive), disbelief that there was a guy showing off his very naked, very delicious body to me.

By entire time, I mean, "entire time that I wasn't too aroused to be thinking about anything other than sex and sex-type things". I feel that's a distinction that needs to be made here. Especially since poor Joseph, who is very literate and very written-word-oriented, was trying to IM me, and I couldn't really respond in coherent fashion for a while. Luckily, he took it in stride, and was flattered.

At the time, Joseph was working nights, so he was at the end of his day, while I had just gotten up. Therefore, everything ended after an orgasm for him and when he needed to go to bed. I didn't even care that I hadn't so much masturbated as had a visual feast - I felt good that he'd quite obviously enjoyed himself, and that was okay.

Afterwards, I was almost in a state of shock. Did I just do what I think I did? I must have, because there were the IM logs (which I have sadly lost to a dead hard drive, which makes me want to cry). That was... that was depraved! And I did it! Holy fuck! And I was ridiculously happy about it. I reasoned that even if it were depraved, that it couldn't be too bad if both parties had enjoyed it as much as they did. That didn't mean that I told a single person about it - this blog is the first time I'm in any way talking about or admitting to this with anyone other than Joseph. I just told my friends that we were still hardcore flirting.

I didn't get the chance to talk to Joseph for a few days afterwards, which despite all his assurances, sent me into a minor panic. I couldn't bear to think that he was having second thoughts, or didn't want to speak to me anymore, or anything like that. Logically, I knew that he wasn't online because he was either at work or sleeping, and that he slept when I was awake, so it was okay.

It was, of course, or I wouldn't be in the state I am today. He IM'ed me a few days later, tentative. I'm sure we were both feeling out where the other stood. The impression I got was that he was just as overjoyed as I was that we didn't hate each other or have any regrets. That of course set us up for another, similar naked-webcam encounter within a month of the first, with much the same results - except that he was worried that I wasn't enjoying myself, which led to me masturbating on cam.

Time has robbed me of the reason that those two times are the only times we ever saw each other naked. Both of us, in later months, expressed happiness that we'd done so, though. Regardless. After I graduated and moved to a new apartment, Joseph and I kept up our correspondence. What drew us together was keeping us together - high intelligence, a love of the written word, an appreciation for humor and wit, and a general loathing for the majority of the population. We also had the same tendency to forget correspondence for a while, and be able to pick up where we left off a month or three later. I was the first one to see the draft of his new novel, he was the first one I told that I was fed up with biology and wanted to go into social work. We bitched about our jobs, about our lives, shared little joys and major sorrows, and bounced ideas off of each other. But there was always that little current of "sex" under the covers.

I knew that this was something I had to pay attention to when I had a vision of him getting off the local mode of public transportation in front of my house as I watched from the kitchen window.

Running through my head

My choices for this entry were either post a three-page novel, or split it up. Since I have the attention span of a gnat right now, you get a split.

Today's story: the backstory.

About, oh, January of 2003, perhaps, I broke up with J. At that point, we'd been going out for three and a half years, give or take, and I was fed up with his lackadaisical attitude towards responsibility and upward mobility. So, at the beginning of my last semester in college, I broke up with him. I'd threatened to do so at Halloween, but didn't work up the resolve until January.

He of course wanted to remain friends - and get me back, if he could. Our relationship was odd. I was so used to having few boundaries with him, and it was difficult to put some in there. But at the same time, I didn't want him around. I recall being surprised and sad that he showed up to my departmental graduation ceremony that spring, after we hadn't been dating for four months already.

During that time, though, that halcyon semester of freedom and complete disregard for studies (once I'd figured out that I could flunk everything and still graduate), a few weird things happened.

The most important for the purposes of this story has to do with the return of JS into my life. JS is a male 8 years older than I am, who I originally met on a very prominent and popular internet forum attached to a humor site. For the savvy, that narrows it down to two, really, and there's one that I won't even link to. Anyway, we met in person about a year after I started posting there. J and I drove out to where he lived - in the same state, but an hour or two away - picked him up from work, ate dinner, went to a diner, and then retreated to his apartment. We met his snakes and his cats, and I fell asleep on the floor with the cats as the menfolk played some game or other until sunrise.

We had a great time, and after that, I occasionally heard from him. I'd relegated him to the fringe of my mind for a while, until we were both tapped to be writers for a humor site run by our mutual friend, Cecil (another person I met from the internet). We traded barbs and the occasional private message on the forums attached to that site, and I usually got first crack at reading anything he wrote. We were close, in that not-close way. Deepest secrets weren't shared, but average stuff was. Eventually we moved to emails, so that we could express longer thoughts, as well as have an easier way for him to transmit his novel and short story attempts to me. Contact was still infrequent, but he still rated above some of the people I knew from school in terms of the close-friend hierarchy.

I didn't publicize my breakup with J in any way at all - in fact, most people thought we were still going out. We still had the same circle of friends, activities, etc. JS found out that I'd broken up with J from Cecil, whom he was visiting at the time.

Out of the blue, JS IMs me. The story is he's bored because Cecil is sleeping, and just wanted to say hi. Oh, and to let me know that he had always thought I was phenominally attractive and that he wished he still lived in my state because then he would really have a chance, now that I was free again.

I was flattered, of course, and taken aback as well. It wasn't that sexual tension had never been an element of our relationship before, it was that this was more than I was prepared for. I expected a bit of sexual undercurrent in my relationships with any straight male, from my closest friend right down to the guy in my biochem study group. It was odd to me, that men found me attractive - that didn't happen until college - but not bad. Just... interesting. Anyway, JS and I got into some hardcore flirting and sexualized conversation before I had to leave for class or something and cut it off.

Since men in general fascinate me - and men who are apparently interested in me are even more fascinating, of course - the next time I saw him online I took the opportunity to flirt a little bit. The conversation got to the point where I mentioned that I was still naked. "Still naked?" he asks, and it comes out that I sleep in the nude, and was sitting in front of my computer in such a state. All bets were then off, and we wound up setting up our webcams for a little naked show-off mutual masturbation show across a few thousand miles.

Tomorrow: fleshing out the relationship dynamics further: why I like JS, and why JS likes me. Also, what happened after that first little episode of web debauchery.

I need more Crystal Light

Is this blog about sex, or is it about anything but? Sometimes I wonder.

Then again, all of that "anything but" decidedly impacts the sex. God, sometimes it's just great to be a woman.

As of right now, I am the only gainfully employed resident of the house. That's absolutely stunning, and it makes me glad that we're only one week into October. V has an interview tomorrow, and is temping steadily for the next two weeks anyway, so I'm not worried about him.

J, now, J I am slightly worried about. You see, J lost his job today, which should have been obvious in the last paragraph. Mostly, I'm pretty happy about that, and no, it's just just my bad case of schadenfreude that makes me say that. It's also my "Queen of Tough Love" persona, who has been waiting for something to come along and kick J's ass like this for about three years now. I had to figure, if he didn't learn to get up like a responsible human being, and show up for work/class/rehearsal/meeting/whatever just by my prompting or other intervention methods, he needed to get kicked in the ass. To use a trite phrase, sometimes you have to hit the bottom before you can reach for the top, or something like that.

Naturally, when his supervisor called him today and told him not to bother showing up tomorrow, J went right into his usual depressive state, curling up on the couch underneath a fleece, eating some ice cream, and watching tv, neglecting to talk to anyone else. He's very good at avoiding things through these and other methods. Granted, I can't imagine I'd be too happy if I were fired, but at least if I were in his shoes, I'd have been expecting it. I'm kind of aware of the fact that repeatedly no-showing at work isn't acceptable behavior. Neither is showing up late three to five days a week, or "calling off" the rest - and by calling off, I mean the supervisor called me to see where I was, and someone shoved the phone in my face so I'd actually answer it for once.

I already know that tomorrow, he won't even be awake by the time I leave for work at 12:30, and that despite saying he will, he won't have even looked for, much less applied for, a new job. And what does it say about me that I'm not even willing to help him look? Besides that I don't even know how someone would go about getting a new job after getting fired, because it's not an experience I've ever had.

V and I are seriously discussing the finacial feasability of kicking J out, and each of us paying $900/month for this apartment. It's doable, although we'd have considerably less around for saving and spending. It would also mean, at this point, that J would go back to his parents', which I don't like as an option. I largely blame them for the state he's in right now - I highly disagree with most, if not all, of their parenting methods.

And that's another thing. J, as recently as yesterday, says that he still wants to marry me. But do I really want to marry him out of anything other than complacency? Do I really want to marry into a family where I would pretty much outright hate my parents-in-law? And do I really deserve to hitch myself to someone who, honestly, for all of the years I've been with him, is going in nearly the exact opposite direction of me?

Fweee!

The benefit to overtime, as I've mentioned, is that I get lots of extra money in the paycheck. That means that I have money left over after I pay rent.

Better yet, I also got a $500 bonus from work this week, so I have tons of money left after paying rent.

That means it was time to go shopping.

I've wanted to refinish my table for a long time. I got it for free from a close friend of mine, who absolutely did not have room for it in her apartment. It's pine - the top and seats of the chairs were shellacked, and the legs and chair backs were painted Wedgwood blue. Now, I like blue, but Wedgwood? I'm not so much in to that. And neither is the Mission furniture I have in my living room.

So, I've been planning to refinish it, well, since I got it. It also needs a little work; some of the legs are coming loose on the chairs. So finally I was able to buy the supplies I needed for it. Vinnie and I went to Home Depot, where he stood with the cart in confusion as I first picked out stains, then grabbed all of the supplies.

I'm planning on keeping the same style - stain and color - but it's going to be all stains, no paint. The original shellacked parts are going to be a light red oak, and the colored parts are going to be a navy water-based stain. It fits a lot better both with the decor and me - I don't so much do anything pastel-ish.

So tonight of course after I cooked dinner for the menfolk, I put down the dropcloths, took down the glasses from their racks, and started stripping the table. Honestly, I'd forgotten how much of a fucking pain in the ass this shit is. I'm trying to remind myself that after I'm done, I'll have a beautiful table. But I got most of the table top finished, and barely one of the legs, and I'm fucking tired. Admittedly, it's the end of the day, and really, I only worked for about an hour, but JEE-zus.
Scraping old finish and stripper off really works up a sweat, and I can think of many things I'd rather do to work up a sweat.

Perhaps I'll have to engage in some of them tonight. Sex raises endorphins, right? Maybe that'll help my sore back.

Drivin' in his best friend's car

The past month, I've been pretty much sleeping and working - sometimes time is taken up by my commute. That's just not healthy for anything but my checkbook. I have to admit, french enjoys getting checks for amounts of over $1000 net. She enjoys it a lot, as do her various bank accounts and creditors. French's roommates, however, don't like when she's not home, because things don't get done.

Today marks the first day in almost two months that I'm going grocery shopping. In case that isn't clear to anyone, I'm slightly food obsessed. Cooking is one of the ways I show people that I care about them. Food's also one of the things I need in the house in decently large quantities to feel safe and secure - and to not resort to just ordering out all the time, which isn't good either. So for me to not have bought any groceries at all for two months is nearly panic time.

It wouldn't have even happened if I'd had more than one day off every two weeks or so for the past while. Admittedly, that's my own fault - I don't need to pick up all those extra shifts, but they really need help, and I could use the money... what finally stopped it was when I realized that before today, I'd been at work every single day for the past 13. I was going to make it 15 in a row, if I'd gone in for a meeting today, but since it wasn't absolutely essential, I decided fuck that, french needs a full goddamned day off.

What this also means is that my sex life is about nil again. Partly that's because I took a voluntary break for a while after the last serious set of incidents with J, and partly because I'm literally not home and awake for more than about an hour a day. Now that I've sworn off picking up extra shifts for at least a month (or else V will seriously maim me, he says), and J and I are starting to work through some of our issues, that might pick up a bit again.

My other excuse, if you can call it that, for not blogging in the past month has to do with other blogs. It seems that nine times out of ten, when I come up with an issue to talk about on here, I start making the entry, but then I check other blogs, and two or three of them just addressed it, and expressed what I wanted to say in such fine fashion I feel like there's no point in my posting. Not only would I be repeating other people's things, but I don't feel that I could even improve upon it. Rather frustrating, really, because I don't want this to just turn into "Oh hey, check out this blog because they already said stuff I wanted to", but at the same time, I really hate even the illusion of plagiarism or hackney.

Maybe what I need to start doing is make a list of things I'd like to blog about, wait until a few months after other people have done it, and then do it myself. Of course, that would require organization, which isn't always a strong point outside of my work life.

Either way. I need to start posting again.

they're not gonna get us

One of the downsides to my job is that I get to listen to the "pop" and "top 40" crap that teenagers nearly invariably listen to, which is very much not along my usual musical tastes. Pity me, for I have far too excellent of a memory for music. I find myself singing songs I don't even fucking like, simply because they're stuck in my head. On the other hand, they're all impressed how after a few weeks I can sing along with everything on the radio as well as they can, so maybe it's not all bad.

On our way home from picking me up after work, V asked if I wanted to play cards - his euphemism for me giving him a tarot reading. Since work tends to get me to close down that aspect of myself - the subject of another ramble - I agreed, as I figured it'd be a good way to get back in touch with that side of myself again.

I ate dinner, V did some dishes, then we lit some of my incense and one of his candles, and we did up some tarot. I gave him a reading - which is usually never hard, because I know what's bugging him even if he won't articulate it - and he reciprocated. I didn't have anything in particular in mind, but surprise of all surprises, got what I was thinking about anyway.

My relationship with J isn't always as good as I'd like it to be, or even as good as I have sometimes made it out to be. When I'm honest with myself, I admit that there are needs of mine that he just doesn't fulfill - like having a mature partner who doesn't need reminders to get up in the morning and go to work. A partner that doesn't leave dishes and belongings and just crap all over the house all the time, expecting someone else to pick up. A partner that can remember what they're supposed to be doing from one moment to the next. A partner that is going somewhere in life. A partner that I feel comfortable and trusting in submitting to, who wants me in that position, and can take that gift and do something with it. J has his moments, but at times like these they seem particularly few and far between.

Admittedly, we had a great time in California, for my brother's wedding this past weekend, but even then, there were little reminders - evidence that he has a nasty habit of not thinking beyond himself and the moment. It really bothers me at times that I need to think for two people. That's not my job in this relationship, and even if it were, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it unless I'd seen that he could do it for himself.

It just feels like I need to take care of him - not as a lover and submissive to her lover and Master, but more as a mother to her child. I don't mind cooking dinner, doing laundry, keeping a clean house. I do mind cleaning up after, prompting to go to work or do work, repeatedly reminding about appointments, repeatedly prompting about minor details like new clothes, haircuts, etc. and so on, and a million other little things that make me feel as if I'm mothering him. I don't want to - and he swears he doesn't need it - but his behavior persists and I don't know what to do about it anymore.

Those things - and other circumstances surrounding the relationship - were heavy on my heart as I shuffled, and sure enough, they came out in the cards. I have been putting off making a change or decision in this case. I can't come up with one that's perfect enough for my tastes - well, other than a drastic overnight change on J's part, and I know that won't happen - so I don't want to make one at all. I know that's just letting other things or people make the decision for me, but it's so much easier to blame them if it goes wrong.

V was right though, a change needs to happen. The thought of finding an online - or local - dom and fulfilling that need in that manner occurs to me far too often lately. While I hesitate, because sharing intimacy like that feels so badly like cheating to me, still, it's a need I have, that isn't getting met. Yes, I submit to J on occasion. But I don't think it's often enough, and given that we're in a relationship anyway, I don't feel that he's capable of that. I don't think, in a lot of ways, that he's capable of being an adult with me, and the rest of his peers.

On the other hand, he does have positives - I have to be fair here! He's extremely, extremely intelligent. He cares very deeply for the few people he does feel close to. He's very unflappable, which is good when I'm flying off the handle - he's my ground, which I sometimes need. He's pretty handy around the house (when he gets around to it, usually after a month of, well, nagging on my part) (and not to say that I'm not, but sometimes it's nice to have someone else do it because I'm busy with other stuff). He really is like a big ticklish puppy-dog in some ways. And let's not forget the sexual compatibility.

This blog entry is really just another way to put off making a decision. Deep down inside, I'm already sure of the decision I want to make, I just don't want to admit it to myself and implement it. Perhaps that speaks to a lack of maturity on my part. But the current status quo is the devil I know, and I already know his tricks, and how to put the chains on. The devil I don't? Who knows what he would bring.

Something needs to change, though.

Libation

Before I start, I feel the need to put a disclaimer here; God forbid someone curious about "the lifestyle" finds this and completely misinterprets it:

Mind-altering substances, including marijuana and alcohol, are bad, bad, BAD fucking mixers to use with BDSM play - especially toys and bondage.

And now that we're done, it's time to get moving.

I found out Friday on my way home from work that some friends of the house denizens were having a party on Saturday. Apparently these people "didn't have my email address" - which I don't believe for a second - but V and J both got invites, and that means that I'm invited too.

I haven't been to a party in, oh, six months. I was long overdue, and since I didn't have to work that night, or for almost 24 hours post-party, I did that shit up.

It was good to reconnect with some old acquaintances and friends, as well as to drink copious amounts of American Piss Beer (tm) from the provided keg. There were drinking games and Texas Hold-em to be had. Oddly enough, before this, I had not known how to play that particular form of poker, but after learning it, myself and the MRA House inhabitants were inspired to hold a "casino night" in early January of next year. Regardless.

Managed to get myself happy-intoxicated - where the world is fine, everything is funny, and I don't have nearly as many inhibitions as I probably should. Given that I've been feeling horny lately anyway, that definitely spelled "J and french jumping into bed as soon as they get home."

Remember that bit I mentioned earlier about my inhibitions? Yeah, those were gone. We were naked before I knew it, and instead of keeping things in my head like I usually do, I talked. I talked a lot. I talked dirty. J and I had a lovely, lovely slightly drunken discussion about how I was in fact a slut, but not only that, His slut, and how it was His cunt, and how not only did I enjoy that, He enjoyed it. That was reassuring, at the least, but it was also a huge turn-on. Insecurity occasionally plagues me, especially in the realm of kink. I'm still worried - after five years! - that one of these days my kink will go too far, and I'll freak J's shit out.

This though, was a major hurdle. That little bit of humiliation is part of a fantasy set I've entertained for years. This was really the most I've ever let it out, and I cannot help but be overjoyed that I did. It was unspeakably fabulous - not to mention deliciously arousing - to hear J refer to me the way I've been hearing him refer to me in my head for a few years now.

Better yet, after we slept, we woke up and continued where we left off. Both of us entirely sober, and J initiated by whispering into my ear "Wake up, slut." After that, there was no possible way I was going to resist. I was also inordinately, perhaps selfishly pleased, that J remembered that if I'm begging to be allowed an orgasm, it's not always the best idea to give me one right away. Orgasm denial goes right in hand with that humiliation fantasy, and combined? Let's just say that I'm really glad we don't currently have a headboard attached to our bed frame, because that way the walls don't get damaged.

I'm proud of myself, and I think justifiably so, for sharing this part of my innner fantasy & kink-life with J. Would I have been able to do it completely, stone-cold sober? I like to think so, although I probably would have taken a long, long time to work up to it, insecure as I am.

Now that I have though, I think it's time to seduce J away from the ballgame.

Poit, egad.

I have not completely forgotten this blog.

Admittedly, I haven't updated a whole lot lately either - although I remember at least two occasions when I had an update, and Blogger decided that it didn't really have to let me log in and post. Because, you know, I didn't want to or anything.

If it makes anyone feel better, my vanilla journal hasn't been updated beyond a "hey, I'm alive" for the past month or so either. Someone once told me that journals aren't updated when you actually have things going on in your life, and I'm beginning to clearly see the truth of that statement.

The past month has been fairly busy in french-land. The new job is going fantastically - I am eating it up with a fucking spoon, that's how good it is for me right now. Unfortunately, new job involves some weird hours, so that means connecting with J isn't as easy as it used to be. It's hard to lace myself into a corset for his arrival home from work when I'm sleeping because I'm working 11 pm - 9 am that night.

On the plus side, it seems that now that I've gotten used to my new schedule, and I'm not all pissed off and worried about not working, my libido has returned - and that spells "MAD MONKEY SEX" in the coming weeks. So I should be posting considerably more - at least I hope so. It will probably depend on when J lets me out of the ropes.

And you use it only for me

My new job requires that I fairly frequently work overnight shifts, from 11 pm until 9 am. I don't have a problem with that; I'm a natural night-owl anyway.

My first shift like that is actually tonight, which made for a fun past day or so. Yesterday, I had a meeting at work at 11 in the morning. To adjust my sleep schedule so I'd be up all night tonight, that meant that I stayed up about all night last night.

Translation: I was going to bed just before J was supposed to be getting up for work.

I'm sure some of you can already tell where that went. And went it did. I'd been feeling, shall we say, amourous, that day anyway, but for one reason or another hadn't gotten the opportunity to act on it. Well, not directly at least. Dinner that night was interesting as all hell, but that's probably going to be a separate entry in the interests of time here.

I crawled into bed with J, causing him to somewhat wake up. I wasn't worried; he had to be up in 45 minutes anyway. I chattered a bit, as I usually to do him when I go to bed. It's an easy way for me to clear out my head of any last thoughts, comments, or observations before I sleep. It doesn't even really matter if he responds; it's more about me getting these things out there. He sort of nodded and grunted along as I became more incoherent - I'd been awake for 22 hours, and was starting to slide into delerious.

That little amourous notion came back to visit me though, before I really dropped off, so made with the snuggling and penis-stroking. In case I haven't made it clear before, I love that J and I sleep naked together. Makes seduction much, much easier. Unfortunately, J wasn't too awake - although his cock certainly was - so I wound up dropping off before he moved very much.

I woke up shortly afterwards to hands - hands on my breasts, hands on my thighs, my ass, my back, my neck and ears, my clit... oh, good morning, J. Being only half-awake myself, it took me a bit to realize what exactly was going on. I just knew that I liked it and wanted more.

Neither of us said anything. J's not very talkative at the best of times, and I was more incoherent than normal - the combination of exhaustion and arousal is a powerful one. My mind is about shut down, so the only input it's getting is sensation. No thoughts, no worries, not even listening to what's going on around me. I just feel.

Everything had a very dream-like quality to it - the pale light coming from the windows, my blurred vision and mind, a silent, stoic man fucking me with three fingers while holding me down... It was unbelievably intense. I didn't even know what I want, and if I had, I wouldn't have been able to express it. I was just a huge ball of want and need and whimpering. I absolutely love when he reduces me to that, when I am nothing more than His and needing Him, a completely and utterly submissive and sexual being.

I passed out almost immediately after a shocking orgasm; hopefully I didn't scream too loudly. When J came home from work today, I was awake again, and the slow, satisfied smile on his face when he looked at me was delicious. He has a way of making me feel like a veritable goddess - the only woman he would think of looking at, the most attractive, sexy, beautiful woman on earth, and the only one worthy of being His. Seeing that look sets off a bloom of pleasure and joy, somewhere deep inside, so that I feel like I'm radiating this golden aura of pleased happiness. I know that I've pleased him, and by so doing, pleased myself.

I needed that.

Sass that Hooptie

Saw Spider-Man 2 last night, through a semi-odd set of circumstances.

All week since he's moved into university housing, A has been calling and IMing me. Nearly constantly. I don't usually answer my phone on a regular day, and when I know it's him calling, I answer it less. I'm not a phone person to begin with, and I just do not have the energy in me to console and therapize A. He's desperately, desperately needy, and if I'm a bad person because I don't want him clinging on to me and draining me, so be it.

Turns out that his birthday is this week, and he wanted to go out this past weekend to "see a movie or something" and that he'd pay for whoever showed up. I admit, I winced. Movies aren't one of my favorite things, A isn't one of my favorite people, and I was going to feel bad going or not going. I didn't want him to pay, but I didn't want to not go, because it was the poor man's birthday and I wanted to at least try, in a marginal way, to make him happy.

Broached the subject to J and V, who agreed to go with. I picked Spider-Man 2 because it seemed like the movie least likely to offend anyone's sensibilities in this motley group. I had less of a "no desire" to see it than just about anything else out there, really. Spidey is cool and all, but I've always been more of a Batman girl.

Met A at the theater and walked into the movie just as they started the previews. V and I sat next to each other, and that was probably a bad idea. We proceeded to make snarky comments on all of the previews - not that we could help it; some of them were ridiculous. There's some movie coming out with Angelina Jolie wearing an eyepatch and Gwynyth Paltrow as some sort of detective straight out of the 30's and 40's, where there's zeppelins and aliens who are destrying the earth and all sorts of other shite. Our question was where the fuck did this come from. I do almost want to see I, Robot though, if only because Will Smith in action movies like that is nearly always entertaining.

Spider-Man itself was entertaining for all of the wrong reasons. I don't think I've ever seen a movie that had so many theatrical, blood-curdling screams in it. We discussed it after the movie, and decided that if we saw a huge guy with four metallic, robotic arms with pincers and blades and crap coming out of them charging at us with a look of impending doom on his face, our reaction would not be to let loose with a perfect scream. If we could get anything out, it would be along the lines of "oh fuck". But screams there were, as well as fabulous special effects. As well as unbeleivably awkward "character" moments, like when Aunt May talks about heroes, or nearly any scene between Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson. Being inappropriate beings in rare form, we laughed. A lot.

We laughed a lot after the movie as well, because we were taking the theatrical scream bit to new heights. Some times I don't think they should allow the three of us out in public. A seemed entertained - I know for a fact that he doesn't laugh, per se, but he was smiling and generally seeming amused. We gave him a ride home, since it was already after midnight, and headed home ourselves to settle in for a night of more videogames. Because we too are losers and dorks.

Despite my personal feelings towards him, I do hope A had a decent time last night. Like I said, he seemed amused and to be enjoying himself. Even if we'd wanted to, we couldn't hang around last night; J had work and V and I have things to do (which we haven't started yet, but that's a minor point). But we did at least go out and enjoy ourselves, and hopefully helped A enjoy himself a little bit too. Dammit, I just want people to be happy.

In other news, V says that I should withold sex from J until he gets his hair cut, as he is a shaggy beast with a near-mullet happening right now. J and I just exchanged Looks and started making out on the couch as V entertained himself with his new PS2.

Benign neglect

Thankfully, one area of stress in my life is gone - and that's the "oh god I need a new job" area. My last job (and career field) quite frankly was killing me. I hated it, I hated the people I worked with, I hated the work that I did, I wasn't interested in a goddamned thing about it, and I was getting really weary of getting nauseous on my way to work in the morning, as well as waking up with a hurting jaw from grinding my teeth all night.

So I completely switched career fields, to something that is much better suited for me. Result: a much happier french, even if a bit poorer.

Because of the madness of a new job/ending job search, as well as last weekend have four people staying in the house - on top of the usual three that are here - neither sex nor blogging have been at the top of my mind.

But now that things are settling down, I've half a mind to turn around and jump the very cute and very asleep J behind me. I know for a fact that he's a very big fan of being woken up by a blowjob or other "sexual activity", shall we say. Perhaps I'll get to that, and have something else to write about.

Discordia

Well, found out Friday that I'm not pregnant.

Oh, not that I was worried. That little test was part of a screening I underwent on Friday, because I am likely going to participate in a clinical trial of a new HIV vaccine. Before anyone freaks out, no, there is no way that I could possibly get HIV or AIDS from this vaccine. None. They don't even use parts of the real virus. Nothing. Nada. No chance, zero zip. (Can you tell that I've had to explain this a lot, and am getting lazy? Yes indeed.)

I deliberately scheduled that for Friday afternoon. Why? Well, since Wednesday, there has been a veritable parade of guests in my home, and I fucking hate it.

Well, the only thing I really hate about it is that a "fake internet friend" of mine - a guy I know from online, who knows some other people I knew online and then met and really befriended in real life - is staying here. He's... interesting. Not that I didn't know that beforehand; when he asked to stay here I asked J with that tone in my voice that said "I'd really rather not this happened" if he could stay here, and J of course missed the tone completely and said "Sure!" Stupid me. One of these days I should grow more of a spine and not be nice for nice's sake.

Anyway, A, as we shall call him, is staying here for about a week. He's from the UK, and is over here for university summer classes. Given what I know about him, I have no idea how he's paying for any of this, because he hasn't really... well, ever worked. Not my problem though. He's staying in the third bedroom - my sewing/creativity room, and that irks me no end, because that's really the only room in the entire house that's really just about entirely mine, and here's this semi-alcoholic nicotine-and-7uP-fiend staying in there. Awesome.

It would be easier of A meshed with my friends, but he doesn't. At. All. Totally different personality, interests, sense of humor. Makes for a few awkward moments. Granted, he's my age, but he apparently already has a kid (who the fuck knew? Not me.) and has such a completely different view of the world that half the time we sound incomprehensible to each other. I'm trying to console myself with the fact that he's moving into university housing tomorrow, but right now I just want to shoot something. Really healthy anger expression, that is.

On top of that, V's boyfriend is in town, and two of our other friends are staying here for the holiday weekend as well. Words cannot express how awesome I find this. I get the feeling that if I weren't so on edge with A staying here, I'd be fine with the other three. M just stays in V's bedroom, and the other two friends crash in the living room, a room in which I have no personal stake. That and they have, you know, social skills.

Gah. I really do need to learn to be nice only when I want it, and not when I think I should be.

Age of Aquarius

Last Tuesday V came up to me and said "I will pay for everything you need except food, so long as you come to New Jersey with me this weekend."

Okay.

V and I are Large Dorks (tm). There's a role-playing game down there that gets held about once a month. V played regularly while he lived in NJ; I've also played when I had occasion to find myself down there. It's a great experience, tons of fun, it's just in South Jersey and so it takes a long, long time to get there. I agreed partly because I love playing this fucking game, and partly because car trips with V are always entertaining. So Thursday afternoon after running some last-minute errands, we started our trek - we wanted to avoid Friday Shore traffic.

The drive down was uneventful, the game that weekend was fabulous. I've been a performer all my life, and now that I'm out of school, the chances for a good performance are few and far between. This is one of them, and I prefer to grab it with both hands. About the only thing I wish is that some people who also play would learn the difference between me and my character, and refrain from treating them as one and the same in the parking lot after the game is over.

The thing is, the game is draining. It's a lot of effort to keep up a character all weekend, and it's played by a lot of people. Lots of people, for more than a few hours at a time, makes for a very drained and cranky and unhappy and unsocial french. When I was younger, I didn't realize this, and there are many, many less-than-pretty incidents in my past when I was done being around people and didn't have the smarts to retreat. At least now I've learned where that limit is and can take appropriate action.

I was close to that limit on Sunday, after the game, but V's family was having a Father's Day barbecue over at one of his cousin's houses. Since I've met them before, I agreed - strangers are always more stressful; these people were on a level of "distant family", so I knew it would be fine if I showed up there, ate, chit-chatted politely but didn't stay overly long.

After the barbecue, I was done and pretty much wanted to go home. V, who is a far more social creature than I am, wanted to go out and see a movie with a bunch of his friends that he doesn't get to see anymore, living in Boston as he does. He was so excited about it, I couldn't turn him down, so I agreed.

Let's just clarify two things here: I was done being around people, and I didn't really have the $9 to spend on the movie ticket right then.

Had those two circumstances not existed, I might have actually enjoyed the movie as I was watching it. Instead, I sat through the movie, uncomfortable, and more bothered than amused by the gags in the film, listening to the crowd of people around me laughing hysterically. That doesn't really bother me too much. What bothers me is that I was so fucked after the movie that I nearly broke out in tears in the fucking lobby of the movie theater. For someone who prides herself on the fact that there's only two people on the planet who can make her cry, and even they can't do it regularly, that's pretty fucking pathetic.

V, bless his heart, managed to rein in the immediate response to get pissed at me for distancing myself from the group and being less than civil, and realized that something was very, very wrong and I needed to get out of there. He hustled me out to the car, where I immediately started shaking and crying my eyes out. I told him to just drive for a while, and then the only coherant thoughts I had after that were that I didn't know exactly what the fuck was going on, and I really wanted to call J.

After I'd calmed down enough to speak again, V and I opted to drive home instead of staying the night at his parents'. It was 11 at night, and we had at least a five hour drive ahead of us, after being up since 9 in the morning on about 7 hours of sleep. Brilliant fucking idea, if I do say so myself. But we really just needed to be home.

We made it home at about 4:30 in the morning, tired as fuck-all, but safe and sound and without incident. J was up, because his sleep schedule makes no sense to anyone including him, and that was good. I know I bitch a lot about the boy being blockheaded, but damn if he doesn't know when I need him. First thing he did when he saw me walk through the door was grab me and just hold me in his arms, as I felt all the tension and jangliness of my nerves from earlier just flow away. He made sure I got into bed, and then crawled in after me, just holding me and listening to me babble and get it all out - whatever it was, I think I was getting a bit delirious by then, because I don't remember a thing I told him. Regardless, I was calmed down enough to sleep, and sleep well. But I was drained enough that I slept for all of about five hours on Monday.

One of the reasons I love this boy, one of the reasons I want to stay with him approximately forever, is that he grounds me. Whenever I'm stressed, whenever I have too much extra nervous or angry or sad or otherwise negative energy pent up in my mind and body, one touch from J - zzzZAP! - is all it takes to eliminate it. He just such a calm, centered person, no matter how much I throw at him, that doesn't change. He's just there. He's there for me, when I really need him the most. I feel better just being around him. And despite all the other frustrations and imperfections, that's really the most important thing.

Since I fell for You

I started dating J four years ago this past April (that makes me feel old). It was a culmination of nearly an entire year of me trying to get him to date me, but that's not the story I'm going to tell today.

Right after we started dating, and I'd given out my first blowjob ever, we were cuddling on my dorm bed, staring up at the Christmas lights I'd strung from the ceiling.

"Are you a virgin?" he asks.

Given that this was my first serious actual relationship, I wasn't sure how to answer. Sure, I knew I should be honest, but I wasn't sure how he would take it. I had a feeling it would be okay, but give me a break, I was 19 and nervous.

"For now, yeah."

He seemed to consider this. It was mildly reassuring to me that I was not immediately dismissed out of hand.

"Planning on changing that anytime soon?"

That really didn't surprise me. I knew he'd slept with his ex, and that he'd very much like to have sex with me. But giving my rearing, I was still very unsure of the entire "sex before marriage" deal. On the other hand...

"Not really."

And it was okay. I wasn't pressured at all. It was cute, really.

Over the summer, I had decided that I was going to have sex with him anyway. I informed him of that choice in September. Oddly enough, he was more upset that I'd said yes. He was worried that I had felt pressured (which was about as far from the truth as Singapore is from here), and didn't really want to, but only wanted to to make him happy. That sweetness and concern for me was one of the many things giving me sharp shoves over the edge.

Yes, I wanted to make him happy, but I had the time to think through it, and decided that I wanted to go through with it for reasons besides that. I was curious, I knew he'd treat me right regardless of whether I fucked him or not, and I had a strong hunch I was going to be with him for a while anyway.

About a month later, we'd had a fight. I don't remember what it was about; I just remember that I was angry and hurt over something - probably him not calling, that was the problem du jour back then - and had expressed that in very clear terms. He wound up sending me flowers. God I miss that! For those of you curious, yes, I do have enough of a romantic streak in me that I dried the bouquet. It's currently hanging from my ceiling. It's one of the many reminders I have that this boy and I are stupid over each other.

We were talking on the phone, and were going through the kiss-and-make-up stage planning. I'd had an idea I wanted to try for a while, but I wasn't sure how to broach the subject. I wanted him to tie me to the bed, and then have sex with me. I wasn't sure what it was called - well, I knew the term "bondage", but hadn't done a whole lot of reading about the subject, and certainly wasn't familiar with terms like "submissive". I just knew that I'd thought about it, and I really liked the idea of having him tie me up and ravish me.

The conversation worked around to how we should have make-up sex, and I decided that I'd just take the plunge. Being honest had worked before, so why not try it again? I mentioned that I had something to ask him.

"Maybe when we have make-up sex, you could... maybe tie me up to the bed and then have sex with me? You know, if you want to, and if you don't, it's not a big deal, it's just an idea."

Dead silence.

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit, I thought. Now I've freaked his shit out and he's going to break up with me and he hates me and I'm way too weird for him and he hates me and he's going to tell everyone what a freak I am and-

"Yeah that sounds like a good idea."

I found out later that he was quiet only because he couldn't believe that I had asked him for that - mostly because he was interested in that as well, and couldn't figure out how to bring up the subject. He was a lot happier about it than I realized at the time.

Four and a half years later, it's gone a lot beyond "Do you think maybe you could tie me up to the bed?" We're not using clothesline anymore. We've got a lot of rope, and lots of other toys - two whole full drawers with, with the rope housed separately. We've found a lot more things that we like to do together beyond just tying me to the bed. And I've learned to be a lot less fearful of telling him what I'd like - not that I don't have plenty more fear to work through!

Just about every day, I'm glad that I got brave enough to ask for that. Sure, at one point one of us would have brought it up, I'm sure, given that we were both interested in activities of that nature. But I'm glad I brought it up when I wanted it. It reassured my fears about my suitability for him - and his for me. It showed me that he was going to be a lot harder to scare off than just about any other guy I'd met.

And it was really goddamned awesome make-up sex.

Coming up for air

J and I have kissed and made up - he apologized to me for making a mess while I was gone, and I apologized to him for being an unholy bitch for three days. Maybe one of these days I will grow up, be mature, and not go into a three-day horror-fest because of some dishes and newspapers, but I am not figuring on that day being any time soon.

Since we've made up, I got to do that bone-jumping I was looking forward to all week, and it was a-mazing for a number of reasons. First and foremost, it was put off for a while, so I was craving it moreso than usual. Secondly, it started off with a round of make-up sex. Make-up sex is one of the best things on the planet. It's sex, but it's sex that you're all emotional about, because you're reconnecting with the person you love that you were just fighting with and you want nothing more than to make them happy in return for the shitfire you just put them through, and they're trying to do the same to you. If it weren't for the fact that I really don't like fighting with J, I would have make-up sex all the damn time.

Thirdly, it was amazing because I begged. Yeah, that's right, I begged. I begged for sex, I begged for cock, I begged for an orgasm. Excuse me for a moment, because just thinking about it is getting me hot and horny again.



I don't always beg. Okay, well, I always begged that one weekend, but other than that, it's fairly spontaneous. I'm not always in the mood - nor am I always capable of speech (yes, the sex is that good; no, I have no qualms about mentioning it). But the circumstances, to my mind, rather called for it. I felt that it was a good way to show J that I still loved and respected him, my behavior of the past few days completely aside. And as I mentioned above, I love doing it.

There is something unbelievably honest and submissive and true about begging to get fucked, about begging to be allowed to cum from fucking (or anything else). I think it requires a lot of knowledge about who and what you are (J's slut!) as well as a certain amount of courage to admit what you want (cock! fuck mefuckmefuckme!). Let's be real here, true sexual freedom is not the norm, and good girls don't even know the words "cock", "fuck", etc. and so on, much less verbalize their desires for them.

That's part of the reason I don't always beg. I'm not always that in-touch with my inner submissive. Some times, the public persona is firmly in control, and I meet J as an equal, in bed and out. Things are still okay if I do. But I can't help but notice that when I do beg out of nowhere, he seems to like it an awful lot.

And the Girlies Wanna Scream

Gods, got back from my parent's yesterday and I want nothing more than to turn around and go right back. Which is the first time that's ever happened, as I recall.

Vinnie and I had an absolutely fabulous time. We didn't even do so much of the touristy stuff - which we were thinking about, as Vinnie's never been to my hometown - but instead pretty much sat around the house, slept, ate, and completely ignored any and all worries. I needed that. Desperately. We played video games, watched my brother's DVDs of Family Guy and Aqua Teen Hunger Force, ate far too much of my mother's food, and slept at random times in random places.

The only problem was that Vinnie and I were so relaxed and slow-moving by the end of our week, we wound up missing our flight back here - well, the plane was still there when we got to the airport, except that they'd already locked out the flight and we had luggage to check. We got put on the next available flight, which left at 7 in the morning, and called my mother to turn around and pick us back up.

In our infinite, mature responsible adult wisdom, Vinnie and I decided to stay up all night, because we had to be at the airport at 5 the next morning. I was sick with a lovely sinus infection resulting from allergies, so my brain wasn't working too well. That's why I agreed. We flew back here and finally got back to our house at about 11 in the morning.

It was pretty good - sure I was tired as fuck, and sniffling and in slight pain, but the house was all cool, despite the sweltering heat. I'm figuring, awesome, we'll just run to the bank a minute, then come back here and go to sleep in the excellent coolness of brick and tree-shading.

But see, then I walked into my bedroom, to find the week's newspapers scattered all over the floor, and the desk covered in glasses and food wrappers. Then I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water for my dehydrated self, and was greeted by a sink full of dishes, with satellite settlements on my counters. Being full of sick and tired and hormones, I burst into tears.

So no, I have not jumped Jay's bones yet, which I had been planning on doing all week. About all I have done with him is cry and yell and be bitchy, because it is beyond me how in over a week it could not have occurred to him at all to maybe put the papers into the bag in the living room so conveniently set up for that purpose, or to maybe wash a dish or two because he knew his flatmates were coming home and perhaps they'd want to cook. That level of blatant disregard of other people's needs and concerns is just foreign to me - especially when it comes to people I'm relatively fond of.

I'm not entirely sure he understands why I'm so upset either. Okay, sure, it is amplified in part because I'm sick and emotional now anyway, but even without that I'd be irritated. It really would have been nice to come home to a place that was around the same level of clean as I'd left it. He said "sorry" to me last night - not "I apologize for messing up the place and being an inconsiderate boor" but just "sorry". I asked why he had said that. He stared at me. I'm one of those people that thinks that if you're apologizing, you should know what you're apologizing for. Kind of gives it more meaning, you know?

He continued to stare at me as I started crying my eyes out again. I find that helpful, the staring at me. It really does a lot to make me feel like a worthwhile human being with thoughts and feelings of my own, as opposed to some machine that has started malfunctioning for no apparent reason and with no apparent way to fix it.

We've discussed this in the past. We've also discussed how I can be a very scary person even when I'm a good mood - I'm not a small person by any stretch of the imagination, and I know how to throw both my physical and emotional weight around. But what Jay doesn't seem to realize, no matter how many times we go through it, no matter how many times I tell him, is that just staring at me - essentially ignoring me, which he has also done - just makes things worse.

When I am angry and hurt, the best possible course of action is to have it out with me, and let me vent. Then we can get through the argument and get back to the sexing. The worst possible course of action is not responding to me, because that just screams "I don't care" to me, and that hurts worst of all.

Unfortunately, that is Jay's strategy for everything - back away, leave it alone, don't say anything, let it go away on its own. And in four years together, with the occasional fight to prove the points I articulate to him on a regular basis, this has not changed one iota. It makes me want to take my dullest wooden spoon and scoop out his entrails via his eye socket.

So I am pissed and hurt and frustrated, and as I said earlier, I want to turn around and get back on a plane to my parent's house, despite my general tendency to want to stab people after a week there. My mother has food, she has central a/c, and she knows how to pay attention to people when they need it. Maybe instead I should send Jay there for a month, so perhaps he will finally learn something.

You can keep this suit of light

My training in biology, psychology, and to a lesser extent, sociology, has taught me that you cannot separate the three - not completely.

Someone comes to you, they're clinically depressed. They have a psychological condition. Underlying this could be a chemical imbalance; a physical cause. It could also be caused by the environment in which they're living - family that's emotionally manipulative and abusive, an unfulfilling job, a lack of space to call one's own - a sociological, community cause. The main problem is the psychological one, but in a way it's just the symptom of the underlying physical or social problems.

To properly treat it, then, you have to treat all of it. Prescribing an anti-depressant treats the symptoms, and may help with a physical cause, but it won't do a thing for anything else. The generally accepted "best" therapy for depression is a combination of therapy - to treat the social causes - and medication - to treat the physical causes and alleviate the symptoms. It addresses the entire person, and the entire problem.

So it's really no surprise to me that the sociological factors in my life are affecting my mental and physical states so strongly. For various reasons which I will not enumerate here, I am worried. This worry brings my natural anti-social tendencies to the forefront of my personality; I believe the last time I left the house was about a week ago. I'm not even particuarly in the mood to converse with my closest friends - not that I feel I have much to say at any rate.

Mental states can be physically paralyzing; I'm smart enough to know that I'm allowing this anxiety to be. On the other hand, I realize that at least at some times, I'm forced out of that paralysis. One of those is when I finally manage to cook, which will be much more often now that V has moved in. To wit: we had roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, from-scratch crescent rolls, and brown sugar asparagus for dinner tonight - well, last night; I haven't slept yet. And I was happy! We sat around the table, talked about things that most people wouldn't consider polite conversation - one day and already we're talking about sexual practices my mother would likely deny the very existence of - and enjoyed ourselves and our dinner. I wasn't thinking about what's causing me worry, I wasn't off in the corner curled up with a headache, I wasn't grinding my teeth, I wasn't cranky.

I did get confirmation that V believes that I am a Domme, too. I remarked that I'd been hurried when I made the rolls, and J mockingly said that they were horrible and that we shouldn't eat any, he'd just have to eat them all so that we'd be spared the horribleness. I said, "well, you'll just have to beat me later." V: "More like you'll be doing the beating." I put on my faux innocent look and said "...maybe". V crowed in truimph "We can smell our own." I didn't bother correcting him; I switch, that counts, right? He's here for one day and already the subject is coming up.

But back to the previous train of thought. Another thing that will kick me out of my rut forcibly is that V and I are flying out to my parents' tomorrow. The main reason is that a close friend of mine is getting married this Saturday, and V and I are going to the wedding. J couldn't get off of work, so V is escorting me instead - which is fine with me, V is a better dancer! But it's also my parents' 25th wedding anniversary, as well as the first weekend in recent memory that both of my siblings will be in residence at the same time as me. My brother is also bringing his girlfriend, so the house will be overflowing with people. In that sort of situation, it's not likely that I'll be allowed to sit on the couch all day and avoid everyone. It'll be good for me, even if I'll miss J terribly.

It also means that I won't get to play with J at all for a week - admittedly, when I'm stressed out, it's not what I want anyway, but I've a feeling that once I get forcibly cheered up I'll be craving it. I'll just have to jump him when I get home, and in the mean time flesh out a few ideas I've had floating through my head.

Maybe even when I am not in my best and brightest mental state I should get myself in my best and brightest physical state - which usually involves rope, leather, and lots and lots of sex. Endorphins are much better than any sort of happy pill a shrink could prescribe anyway. And J's much better looking than a lot of doctors.

Queen of...

Talked to Vinnie last night, long-distance for now. Words cannot adequately express how happy we both are that he's moving back up here to live with me (and by extension, Jay - but mostly with me).

See, Vinnie is my Primary Fag. He knows this. I know this. I am Queen of the Fag Hags, because I know and befriend gay men like it's going out of style, and Vinnie is my First Knight of Gay Men.

I'm sure most of you have heard the expression "a gay man is a woman's best friend", and gods, it's true. I usually befriend men easier than women anyway, but gay men are better than straight men for a few reasons: they like cock as much as I do, we can discuss men's asses and no one gets uncomfortable, and they understand my obsession with Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Payless Shoe Store, Williams-Sonoma, and Yankee Candle, among others. On the rare occasions I have to explain why I want to buy something, they comprehend quickly. I love Jay, but sometimes he just doesn't understand why I need that specific pair of black high heels with the ankle straps, when I have a perfectly serviceable pair of black classic pumps, even if I try to explain for two hours straight. Vinnie, on the other hand, when we found that they weren't in stock at my usual shoe store, immediately asked for directions to the store that had them and whipped out the keys. How could a girl not love him?

Vinnie's probably the closest out of my three closest friends right now. I talk to him the most often, and we talk about a wider variety of things than many others. I've had hints in the past that he knows a bit more about kink and BDSM than most would expect, and last night I got a definite indicator.

M, his new boyfriend - who is also a friend of Jay and myself - is staying with him this week, to escape the boring condemnation of living with his family for the summer before he goes back to college in the fall. Vinnie of course is giddy, and after we'd discussed his plans for the impending move I got to hear all about how wonderful M is, and how much fabulous sex they have, and how cute M looks in a collar, and how he needs to learn that when Vinnie pulls on the collar, his head has to follow.

Oh, well hello.

I laughed and offered to have a talk with M about that, to which Vinnie replied "that sounds like a pretty good idea." I get the impression that he thinks I'm the top, like he is. Little does he know, mwahahaha. Sure, I switch. Sometimes. About once for every six times that I'm the submissive. Maybe.

Anyway, for the rest of the conversation I had a little thought process in the back of my mind that was saying "Hmm, M just came out of the closet... he and Vinnie have been dating for about a week - although talked extensively before that - I assume he lost his virginity to Vinnie... does he really know what he's getting in to?"

Then I reminded myself that a collar means one thing to some people, but it doesn't mean it to all people - didn't I just write a huge thing about that? Oh wait, I did. Plus, M is above the age of consent and I have to admit, he's no slouch in the intellect department. I have to assume that everything they do is completely consensual, just from knowing the parties in question. It'll be fun to watch when they're both up here though!

So now I feel like I have this great responsibility to explain the world of BDSM to M when I talk to him later this week. I'm a little bit tweaked; I don't know what, if anything, I should explain about D/s, if I should just explain the BD aspect of it, the play aspect... I just don't know. I suppose I'll do what I usually do, which is play it by ear, and listen to what he says about it first, and then just answer whatever questions he might have. That way I don't overwhelm the poor boy, and he finds out what he really wants (and, perhaps, needs) to know.

I do have a reputation among the group of friends from which M hails as being particularly knowledgeable about, shall we say, "alternative sexual practices". None of them, though, have had any solid indicators about the status of my relationship with Jay - except that we've been together for four years and most of the time are pretty damned delirious about each other. I've jokingly called him "sir" in public before, but it was obviously a joke, given our expressions and the context. Otherwise, we're as vanilla as Madagascar beans.

My problem, then, is two-fold: what do I say to M (if anything), and do I really want to come out of the kink closet? I know for sure I don't want my parents, or anyone from my hometown knowing. But my friends and associates out here are a bit more cosmopolitan, and more likely to take such revelations in stride. To my knowledge, M's revelation didn't faze any of them - mostly because the majority of us knew anyway, so it wasn't a surprise. This, I think, would be a surprise to most of them, Vinnie probably excluded. I'm just not sure how they'd take it.

Sure, sure, "if they're really your friends", and I do consider them that. It's just easier to keep my mouth shut and not disturb the pond when I don't have to - not make demands on the friendship unless it's necessary.

The subject will probably come up in this apartment anyway, given who is going to be living here. I guess this is just one of those things I'll have to deal with when it comes up. Joy.

Courage and wit have served thee well

Oh gods, I've been playing so much Dragon Warrior lately. For those of you who don't have fond memories of the hours and hours you spent leveling up in this game, it's one of the first role-playing games to come out on the original NES. It also happens to be one of the games I owned as a kid, and yes, I spent hours and hours and hours fighting drakees, warlocks, rogue scorpions, and goldmen, trying to eventually get the Dragonlord. Now I've got a copy to play on the computer, and I'm wearing out the keys. Nintendo was the system I grew up on - I don't so much deal well with things like the Playstation and its ilk.

I tried to play some Playstation game. Once. The session ended in about four minutes, with me flinging the controller down to the ground and stalking off in a murderous rage. Since then, I've been sticking with what I know, and that's Nintendo and to a lesser extent, the Sega Genesis. And Dragon Warrior. Lots, and lots of Dragon Warrior.

I did take a brief break to check my email though, and something caught my eye. It's a D/s discussion list, so the notion of collars came up. A Master on the list mentioned that to him, 24/7 literally means 24/7, so there is no "off" time, no time when the collar is not on and the slave is not in the proper mindset. That prompted a remark from someone else saying, essentially, that the collar is a mindset, and that it wasn't necessary to have the physical collar on to have the mindset that went with it.

Now obviously, collars aren't universal. Not everyone uses them, not everyone attaches any sort of significance to them. But I've noticed that the ideal, if you will, of a "collared slave" is fairly common, especially among fulltime D/s people - who make up the majority of this list, by the by.

A part of me is uncomfortable with the entire discussion really, because it makes it so obvious that I am not like the others. It makes me almost feel as if I don't belong, but I've grown enough to know that's just remnant insecurity talking. At the same time, it makes me glad that J and I own a pair.

See, I do need the collar to get the mindset. I've submitted without it; we didn't buy a collar until about eight months ago, after all. But comparing times with and times without, the times with I seem to recall being much further into the submissive mindset, much more subservient and obedient, and for much longer.

What can I say, it's a very powerful image, a very powerful symbol of submission. It's helpful and comforting to have a physical reminder of the state I'm in - the state I've agreed to be in. It says to me, more than anything else at this point, that I am J's to do with as he wishes.

I'm not brave enough to wear it out in public. I got uneasy in the kitchen, knowing that there were no curtains on the windows yet and the neighbors might see it (at least until I decided I didn't give a fuck, which wasn't until Sunday). But I am willing to wear it for him. I am willing to use it to help me enter that space in my head where I'm his, and to give me the strength to accept that gracefully, instead of kicking and screaming. And since it's not practical for me to be in a submissive mode all the time - really, I don't even want to think about how people at work would react to me going from in charge to subservient - I'm going to keep it that way. The collar is a symbol and physical reminder to me not only that I'm submissive, but that it's a safe time and place for me to be so. And when it's off, it's time for me to be independent and strong-willed again. Kind of like how some people will wear heels all day at work, but when they get home, they immediately put on houseslippers. It's a physical reminder that the time, place, and their attitude have changed.

And that means that I don't always consider myself J's submissive. There are specific times when I am, but it is by no means all the time. I am, however, always his.

A month after we started dating, I bought myself a small silver moonstone ring. I've worn it every single day that we've been together. It's a reminder to me of him, even when he's not around, and it's handy to slip on my ring finger in bars and scare other guys off. It's a physical reminder of our relationship.

It's a symbol, just as much as a collar. The ring says that he belongs to me, and I to him. The collar says that i belong to Him, and He to me. Hopefully one day I'll be able to show both of those to the rest of the world.

The water's fine

I'm not quite done mentally processing this weekend, but I don't think I will be until I force myself to think coherently enough about it to write.

So I spent this weekend in a collar.

As I'd mentioned earlier, J and I wanted for me to spend a weekend in submission. After my entry late Friday night/very early Saturday morning, I went to bed, waking J up accidentally in the process. Since he'd already been sleeping for six hours at that point, and the next day wasn't a work day, I didn't feel too guilty. I brought up the subject of the weekend again.

For a few hours, we danced around the subject and each other. What I really wanted out of the discussion was contract terms, although I was loathe to actually write anything down. It smacked a little too much of permanence. I poked and prodded until eventually I got him to tell me what he was expecting out of me for the weekend.

The list was short, which was how, frankly, I wanted it. I'm an independence junkie; quitting cold turkey would just lead me into some very ugly withdrawal territory. The list wound up as follows:

• I'd be naked at all times, except when we were out of the house or I was in the kitchen cooking.
  
• I would be wearing the collar at all times, except when we were out of the house.
  
• I had to ask permission to eat or to orgasm. (J wanted me to ask for everything, but I vetoed that; I'd just get ridiculously pissed off if I had to do that at this point.)
  
• I had to follow orders without any backtalk.
  
• No tickling, picking at, or teasing of J for the weekend. (Difficult, as he's extremely ticklish, and I enjoy taking advantage of this fact.)

Since we've already discussed limits and all that, and from past experience have a pretty good idea of what we both enjoy, we didn't bother rehashing that. We'd also decided against my calling him "Sir" or "Master" all weekend, because I couldn't stop giggling when he just brought it up. We figured giggling would sort of ruin the mood.

After the discussion of terms, J looked at me, then got up and got the collar. We have two - he grabbed the lockable one, and locked it on. One of the keys is on my keyring, and the other we keep in my jewelry box. I am happy to say that I was only once tempted to take it and unlock myself, and that was Saturday night because it was 90 and humid and sweat is uncomfortable when the breeze can't get to it because there's leather in the way.

I put him back to sleep Friday night with a blowjob - after he'd grabbed the ring in the collar and brought my head down to his cock. Giving him blowjobs turns me on anyway, and being led around by a collar and eventually facefucked just increases the arousal factor. I got to go to sleep very horny and unfulfilled, and woke up in the same manner.

I usually keep my pussy completely shaved, but J had requested that I didn't touch it up before the weekend, because he wanted to shave it himself. After he'd done so, he grabbed the ben-wa balls on a string and a butt plug, as well as some rope. Then we walked down to the drugstore to pick up some pictures I needed for the apartment condition report. That was... interesting. I had a great moment in the store, though. I got caught in a conversation with the store clerk and an older woman who was in line behind me, about the heat and humidity, and as I was talking with them I had this little awareness in the back of my head that I had a rope around my waist and through my crotch, and it was holding things in that would likely give them extreme pause. I was considerably more cheerful in the store than I usually am out in public.

After we got home, I got left in the rope and toys for a while. That was fine; I sat in the living room with my laptop and amused myself. J came and got me when he wanted to play more though. I got untied from what I was in, then had my hands tied together and to the bedframe as I was on all fours. I will say here that I absolutely love the rope flogger. Partly because I am proud that I made it, and partly because it is, for me, a fabulous instrument. It is all thud, and I love thud like I love cock. I zoned out and just enjoyed getting worked over.

After warming me up, J got out our version of a cane - the little rod you use to adjust the angle of blinds. You know the kind, about 2.5 feet long and made of plastic. Hey, we're poor and it was free, and there weren't any little metal bits in it. Me, I could live without it. Canes are stingy, even when it's not the tip that's hitting your ass. Stingy hurts, and I am not by any stretch of the imagination a pain slut. Maybe he thought I was getting too relaxed and enjoying myself too much. I can deal with taps from the middle of the cane nearly anywhere, but if the tip makes contact, yowch. I made my discomfort known, not that it did me too much good. It wasn't to the point where I'd even considered using my safeword, but it did hurt - enough to make me screech and hiss.

We eventually progessed to other things, but the session ended with me on my back, legs tied spread apart, and gagged, and J had a bottle of lube in one hand and a latex glove on the other. Let me also say that I really love my g-spot. I also enjoyed that J did not give me permission to orgasm the first time I asked (begged), as he has in the past. I actually had to wait this time, which reinforced that I was not in charge, which just pushed me closer.

After an orgasm that made me look like an epileptic, J informed my now incapable-of-speech self that he wasn't done with me. I responded by passing the fuck out. He wisely decided to let me stay that way, because a post-orgasmic passing out is not something I am easily woken from.

After I woke back up about an hour later and cooked us dinner, I again got the pleasure of putting him to sleep with a blowjob. We both slept until nearly five this evening, and had french toast for breakfast/dinner at about 7. That's because we're mature responsible adults.

Overall, it really was a good weekend. I enjoyed the fact that J stepped it up and actually smacked me on the hand or ass when I acted up, which I did a few times as much out of habit as anything else. And while I didn't completely give up my freedom, the fact that I had a collar locked on all weekend was a pleasant reminder that I wasn't completely my own person either, however temporarily. I'm relieved to know that I can spend more than a few hours in a submissive state without freaking. I only once refused to do something, and that was do jumping-jacks with the balls and plug in. I'm, shall we say, the owner of "great tracts of land", and jumping-jacks even with a bra are dangerous and painful. For the rest of the weekend though, I had this nearly Zen-like peace about me, that it didn't matter what J was going to do to me, it was going to happen regardless and it was what he wished. More importantly, it was my role to comply with those wishes, and take it as gracefully as I could, knowing full well that he wasn't going to dish out anything I couldn't handle.

I wouldn't mind continuing with the collar, but I think it's a good idea that we stopped on Sunday night. Now we can take a step back evaluate, etc. I'm already thinking that for next time I'd like a few more restrictions placed on me, like not having as much free time to myself. I'd also like to go for longer than 48 hours. Now that I know J and I can do it, that fear is gone.

Word of the day: Tetchy

Thanks to unemployment, my sleep schedule is slowly but surely falling back into its natural state - that is, me falling asleep at 7 in the morning, and getting up at 2 in the afternoon, without even needing an alarm. Good thing that interview I was supposed to have today got rescheduled, because I didn't get to sleep until nearly 6.

Since it was rescheduled, I went back to sleep this afternoon, waking up shortly before J got home from work. We sleep naked, so since I hadn't even really gotten up at all today, I was still in that state. I was standing in the hallway when he got home, looking tired and forlorn, wrapped in a towel. He was his bouncy six-year-old self when he got home today. That grated a bit.

I crawled back into bed and was reading my copy of The Women's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets. It's fascinating and thought-provoking, but something I learned in high school was that everything has a spin on it.

It does have an agenda, if you will; it's blatantly feminist and rather anti-Church and patriarchy, but in a somewhat subtle and rational way. The Church, in any of its incarnations, is fallible, and has made some serious fuckups. It's also hypocritical, oppressive, and just flat out full of fucking assholes. But so's the rest of the world. I am tempted, however, to write to various Catholic and Protestant leaders who are up in arms about gay marriage and shrieking that "from time immemorial, marriage has been between one man and one woman and that's how God decreed it and it's sacred" about how their own church used to preach that celebacy was the way to go, and didn't even recognize marriage as anything but an abomination until fairly recently it its history. Funny that.

Obviously there's a lot in the book about matriarchal societies, how the Goddess was around first, usurpation of Pagan rituals for the church's benefit, etc. and so on. I like matriarchy; my mother's side of the family pretty much is one. Sure, there's more guys than women, but if you're around us much, you'll notice a pretty clear pecking order, and it starts with my grandma. The men are all well and good, and we love them, and they're great at supporting us and being there, but really, the buck stops with the women - my grandma, my mom (as the only daughter), to a lesser degree my aunts. They're the ones raising the kids, picking the house and furnishings, cooking the dinners, cleaning the house, painting the walls and fixing stuff, taking care of everyone else, and most of the important family belongings and valuables are passed down via the women. I am cast from the exact same mold as my mom and grandma. I look like them, I act like them, I even sound like them (my mom especially; people often can't tell us apart on the phone), and in the family, I have the same sort of authority as them, albeit on a greatly diminished scale for now.

So after reading the entries on marriage, motherhood, sex, and so on, and reflecting upon my background, I'm trying to reconcile my desire for submission with my upbringing as a matriarch-in-training. It's making me, quite frankly, tetchy. Being conflicted about what one is and what one wants to do is not pleasant. J's not helping either. When I get this way, I get a bit snappy, and tend to tell him what to do, and dammit, the dipshit just does it. So far I've made him fetch me snacks, refill my water bottle, and ordered him to stay the hell away from me right now. To me, this rather defeats the purpose of his proposed activities for the weekend. Maybe it's just a character defect, but I find it difficult to submit to someone who takes orders from me without question or hesitation.

But dammit, everyone else does! I'm one of those people blessed (cursed?) with physical presence - I'm not a small person, in any sense of the word. And, when I give flat-out orders, people tend to follow them. Even in my sorority, my unofficial name is "matriarch" - as much for the amount of littles I have as the way I act. I don't believe that it's really too much to ask that at least in one aspect of my life, I'm not in charge. I'd really like a man that's able to keep up with me - not completely conquer me, and subjugate me, because I need my independence, but who can be stronger than me and, when needed, take me in hand.

And to tie that into the feminist and matriarchal angle, I don't think that really goes against any of those principles - despite the spin of the Women's Encyclopedia, which tends to put most aspects of BDSM on a level with patriarchy and suppression of women. I think a woman can be strong, the archetypal "house-goddess", and still have a strong male consort. I think that having a strong, even, dare I say it, dominant male as a provider and protector of the female goes hand-in-hand with reverence for her and her abilities - especially if it's by her choice. And I think that serving and taking care of a man fits right in with the "traditional" role of women as care-takers and mothers. I'm confident enough in my abilities to be able to admit that taking care of people makes me happy, regardless of how undervalued that capacity of women is lately.

If every goddess has her consort - who, by most accounts, weren't wimps - then dammit, I want mine.

Hooray! Blogrolling is fixed. And mine has new links for everyone to enjoy. I am starting to seriously agree with Invidia that there are so god-damned many good blogs out there, I am not sure how I will keep up.

'course, I have lots of spare time lately, so maybe this will be less of a problem than I think.

Out of control

Not only was Blogrolling.com down earlier today, they decided to delete my Blogroll. Awesome. Because, you know, I hadn't spent a non-trivial amount of time getting it set up in the first place. Jerks. And it's not letting me recreate it either. According to News, there was a security vulnerability yesterday, and some "unknown problem" today. Awesome.

But back to happier thoughts.

Heard back from one of the more sentient replyers to my medical fetish email of last week. I'd sent him back a note saying that he sounded interesting and may be able to give me what I want, but since he would have to travel, rather than have him come out here, I was curious if he could further describe some things he mentioned in his email - procedures, equipment and the like.

He emailed me back and said "Your response is very unusual. Whenever I contact someone about this, they generally respond in a completely different manner. Do you just like reading about this sort of thing, or do you actually want an exam?"

Weeeeellll... yes and no. I certainly do enjoy reading about these things - and I wish Literotica had more of it. It's great fantasy material.

At the same time, since I do want to go through with an actual exam - whether by J or someone else, that remains to be seen - I'm a bit frightened of that. Since in most cases, fear comes from lack of knowledge, I'm trying to go about getting more knowledge. If I know what's going to happen, I can work on not being scared of it. So, we're back to reading.

I do want to go through with it though - like I said, whether with J or someone else, that remains to be seen. We don't exactly have access to some of the more "realistic" equipment, and that's a pretty serious portion of the fantasy. At the same time, I don't want to do it with anyone else, because dammit, I like J (love).

If I don't manage to come clean about this in the next few days, it won't be an issue anymore. I've noticed that my fixations and fetishes run in cycles - for a while I'll be really into spanking, then hypnosis, then medical, then leather, then something else, and on and on and on. The pagan in me says that's only natural - everything else moves in cycles, why shouldn't this. I know it can be confusing for other people though. There's been more than one instance where one day I'll tell J that I really really would love a spanking, but three days later he tries it and I'm not happy at all.

But anyway, if I don't manage to express this desire to J this time around, there's always the next cycle.

And to close on a really happy note - because I'm a big dork - thanks to orchidea and Danor (Lovesongs for Underdogs) for linking to me. I'm all cute and happy right now because I'm all like "Squee! Someone else reads and enjoys this! Hooray!"

Definitely a dork. Now to just get that Blogroll working again...

Down in Fraggle Rock

In more mundane news, it hit 83 today, and I didn't once think of even putting the a/c in the window, much less turning it on. This, my friends, is the magic of brick, insulation, and trees. Oh, and crossbreezes. I cannot wait to own my own home, but in the meantime, this apartment isn't too bad of a substitute.

Here it is, 2:30 in the morning again. J is sound asleep - which is good, because his ass needs to go to work in the morning. Me? Wide awake.

I wouldn't be so irritated if it weren't for the fact that we had sex earlier tonight. See, I'm like a stereotypical man after sex, generally - I'm not interested in talking (I'm usually not capable of it), I just want to cuddle up and go to sleep. This is usually just fine with both J and me, considering that the only time we have lately to make with the sexing is in the evening before bed.

Perhaps it is worth noting, however, that both last night and tonight, I did not orgasm. It's mostly my fault - I'm dehydrated, and certain, ah, important exterior tissues are a bit irritated right now. The fact that we're using condoms at the moment doesn't help the situation much. J freaked out last night when I hissed at him as he slid in - my usual reaction is generally louder and more positive, shall we say. I'm pretty sure he feels a tad guilty about my lack of orgasm as well - if only because penetration tends to get me off faster and better than almost anything else, especially in the proverbial "missionary position". And here I was having doubts about whether I had a submissive streak!

One thing I have made clear to J though - a rarity! - is that orgasm is great, and I certainly enjoy it, but I like sex even without it. I'm a woman; sex means intimacy to me. Even though "commitment" is more of a four-letter word to me than "fuck", I do like feeling connected to people, especially J. While I do have the occasional issue with submitting to him, I do trust him with much more than I let on - much more than I trust anyone else with.

And speaking of submitting to him, sure as shit, on Monday night as we watched some lovely Japanese bondage porn, he hinted that this weekend he'd certainly be interested in my spending it naked in various fashions. I, in my usual way, pressed for more details. He's not been forthcoming with them - whether because he doesn't know them or wants to frustrate me, I'm not sure - but he has hinted more about nudity, and fun things like spanking, rope, collars, and ball gags. Right now, I'm looking forward to it. I'm pretty sure I'm ready to stop just dangling my feet of the dock and jump in the lake already. Enough with the reading! More with the submitting!

You are still miles away from me

I spent most of this week having a tiff with J. And by "tiff" I mean an "I am not speaking to you and do not even think about touching me because you are in the wrong here" all-out fight.

The reason we were fighting is relatively unimportant - both for this blog, and in real life right now; we've come up with an acceptable plan to deal with it. Suffice it to say that he made a few decisions that I decidedly disagreed with. But the way the fight played out is, because it's fairly typical of our relationship - J screws up in my eyes, I turn into a pissed bitch, he hides until I force him to come out and deal with me.

Ostensibly, I'm submissive to J. In reality, this only actually happens about once a month. I'll get into a really submissive mood and wheedle my way into being spanked, tied, beaten, what-have-you. It usually takes a while - both J and I switch - but I tend to get my way.

In the meantime, though, ask any of J's and my friends, and they'll tell you that I most definitely wear the pants in this relationship. I'm the one with the career, the name on the lease, the one who does the cooking and grocery shopping, the one who picks out the new furniture and living accomidations, who pays the bills... I run things. I'm mature, I'm responsible, and I'm capable of taking care of myself without any help, thankyouverymuch. Better yet, I like things that way.

Moreover, when I can't take care of myself - whether because of sickness, job issues, whatever, and I'm dependent on someone, it's... well let's just say it's a bad scene. That can throw me into a major depressive event faster than you can say "sister submissive". The need to have a job, and to take care of myself, is nearly pathological. I know that. I'm generally okay with that.

The times when it's a problem with me are when I am feeling the need to submit to J. I'm so damn used to getting my way, and making my own decisions, that if I let someone else hold those reins for more than a day or so, it really starts to chafe. Even sometimes when I am willingly submitting, it's difficult for me to discern if I'm telling him "no" about something because I don't want to do it, or because to do so would be genuinely harmful to me. I don't necessarily trust him to make the best possible decision for me. I love him to death, and I know that he wouldn't intentionally hurt me, but at the same time, I know I can make a good decision, and to be honest, J doesn't always - which was what lead to this week. I'm sure I mess up too, but if I brought the consequences on my own head, it's a lot easier to deal with than if someone else dumped them there.

So all this leads to where we are now. J and I would both like me to spend a weekend in submission - it's a very potent idea for the both of us. We have the opportunity, since we have the apartment to ourselves all month. I doubt it will happen this weekend, because I spent nearly the entire week quite forcefully in charge - and righteously pissed. It's hard for me to do a complete 180 at any time and submit, and even harder right now. And it also makes it difficult for me to submit when I have proof that J isn't always the greatest of decision-makers. I'm loathe to give up all the control I've put on my own life to someone that doesn't even have his all in order yet.

J is at least understanding and forgiving when I don't even feel like having sex, much less submitting, and it's never been a problem to stop the action when I need it too. But at the same time, I wonder if maybe I've got it all wrong. I wonder if I'm really a submissive, if J really can Master me, if maybe I should just give up the D/s aspect of BDSM and stick to just getting my ass tied up.

But when I do manage to submit... fuck me, it's amazing. It's an absolutely addictive feeling.

I'd really rather not give up J. But I'd really rather like to have someone that can master me and have me submit without having to ask myself all these questions.