My Health Scare…A Wake-up Call

Grate-ful

Feeling or showing an appreciation of kindness; thankful

June, 9, 2019

I learned a few things this week…

  1. Cardiac symptoms are horrifying and the feeling of helplessness and fear that accompanies them is something I never want to feel again.
  2. I suck as a patient.
  3. I don’t ever want to be in the hospital again, unless I am working.
  4. I have an amazing Daddy…although I already knew this, my health crisis made me see that I can truly lean on him when I need to. He helped to keep me calm, held me and reminded me that he was there for me and that I was going to be ok.
  5. My family was more supportive and positive than they have been in years. Relationships were mended.
  6. I need to make some changes. This will absolutely never happen again.

Sometimes it takes a crisis to truly appreciate what you have. I thought I was having a heart attack. I am a nurse and am very familiar with the signs and symptoms of a heart attack. I have triaged many people with these symptoms and have sent them to the ED to be evaluated. Everyone says that they don’t want to waste their time in the ED if it’s nothing. Don’t be a fool…get checked out. Better to be alive and in the hospital than dead at home, right? The problem is that when it is you, it is really hard to determine if it is for real or symptoms of something else that are non-emergent. We are really good at rationalizing all the reasons that the symptoms we are having are probably nothing…there is no way this is happening to you. Why? Probably because some heart attacks are sudden and intense…but most start slowly, with mild pain or discomfort. The symptoms are easily blamed on other things that are less serious.

  1. Chest Discomfort. Most heart attacks involve discomfort in the center of the chest that lasts more than a few minutes – or it may go away and then return. It can feel like uncomfortable pressure, squeezing, fullness or pain. It can feel like heartburn we  blame on whatever we recently ate…there is no way this is a heart attack…right? Wrong…it definitely could be.
  2. Discomfort in other areas of the upper body. Symptoms can include pain or discomfort in one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw or stomach. Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, numbness and tingling in one or both arms, tightness in the neck, pain in the jaw or back. Yeah, I had most of those…but I just ate a big breakfast…I probably shouldn’t have had that last bite. How many of us blame these symptoms on everything except what it really is?
  3. Shortness of breath. This can occur with or without chest discomfort. If you are having all the symptoms again…maybe you are having anxiety now and feel short of breath? Yep…that was my rationalization…because it can’t be my heart…no way am I doing this. Not today.
  4. Other signs. Other possible signs include breaking out in a cold sweat, nausea or lightheadedness. Fuuuck…sweating…my hair is now wet, my face, arms and legs are sweaty…I can barely sit up straight and I’m so lightheaded that I am afraid I am going to fall right off the chair. This is it…the last straw…I can’t blame this on my breakfast anymore.

I was sitting in a restaurant last weekend with Daddy, having a late breakfast. I had just started on some new medication the day before, a water pill to remove all the water that is collecting in my legs. I have no idea why I have bilateral lower extremity edema but when I am on my feet and/or its hot outside, it is 3+ pitting edema and it makes me short of breath with activity. How do you exercise if your body won’t let you? Walk more, they say…I can’t. It’s not because I am out of shape…although I am now…its mainly because I have so much retained water. I can’t breathe. It has become a vicious cycle.

I sought out help from my PCP and she started me on these low dose water pills. I lost 7 pounds on the first day and I felt amazing. I was optimistic at the change that had begun and what I had in store for myself.  At breakfast, it was about 3 hours after taking my second dose of medicine. I was happy and we were talking about how we wanted to spend the day together. I was calm and relaxed, then I abruptly felt nauseous followed by abdominal cramping and pain. Within about a minute, I started sweating. I was drenched from head to toe. Daddy said that I lost all color in my face and then I became lightheaded and came dangerously close to passing out. I was so scared and I could hear the concern and fear in his voice as he asked me if I was ok…did I want him to call 911? Oh hell no…there is no way this is 911 worthy…or is it? Fuck…am I going to die in a restaurant? Not today. The episode lasted about 4-5 minutes before I started to feel like I could stand up safely. I walked to the bathroom, got my face wet and found myself in a recovery period. The waitress came in to make sure I was ok. That meant he was worried about me being in there alone where he couldn’t see me. I shakily came out, he had already paid the bill, and as we got in the car, I asked him to take me to the hospital. If it was a heart attack, I was petrified that another one would be coming and it would be worse than the last.

The next 4 hours are a blur to me. It didn’t feel like 4 hours because I was still dizzy and was having trouble focusing on what was happening. Lots of labs were drawn. I had a chest xray…a CT of the brain…ultrasounds of the legs. I looked at my nurse and said…ok…these are not cardiac tests…does he think I have a PE? OMG…that is actually worse! Yes…she told me that he is ruling it out because of my symptoms and the normal cardiac tests. No heart attack, sinus rhythm, normal troponin…of course we are looking for blood clots. I know the routine. Then the tests started coming back…normal CT, no shift, no hemorrhage. Normal D-dimer and ultrasound…no blood clots. Chest x-ray is clear and heart is not shifted. No PE. No stroke. That’s all great news…but what is wrong then? This couldn’t be anxiety…I was calm, happy and optimistic when it happened. It was a vaso-vagal response according to the doctors. A sudden drop in my blood pressure and pulse that caused all the symptoms. All was normal now though. I could go home. I needed to follow up with my PCP. No more water pills until I talk to her and follow up with a cardiologist. I was shook up but relieved. We went to my parents house where I was going to spend the night and let my mom keep an eye on me for the following day…no work for me.

The next day went well. I was feeling better, a little weak but closer to my normal self. Toward the end of the day, I received a call from my PCP office telling me that she wants me to restart the medication and see her in 2 days. Well…ok…but I don’t like the sound of this. Now I’m afraid it will happen again. I think it is the medication that is doing this. I will try to be the patient though and follow the direction of my doctor. I was lightheaded and couldn’t concentrate the next day at work for a few hours after taking the new first dose. Then it passed and I started feeling better. OK…I just needed to get used to it I guess. All is good.

The next day, I took it again. No dizziness. I got a lot of work done…I drank lots of water. Then left work a little early to go to my follow up appointment. I was listening to music, had the windows open and felt pretty good. Then it happened again. My arms we heavy and tingly…I had a heaviness in my chest and throat…I was a little lightheaded and there was nowhere to pull over. I was stuck in construction traffic 4 minutes away from the office. I cranked the air conditioning and put my arms up over my head. Deep breaths…its ok…its not a heart attack…its your blood pressure again…these damn pills. Fuck. I really hate this. The next 5 minutes felt like an eternity as I fought the lightheadedness and made my way to the office. I looked at my apple watch and saw that it recorded a heartbeat of 46…lovely…now it isn’t just my blood pressure…its bradycardia too. Excellent.

The appointment went well. Nothing seems to be wrong other than the medication creating side effects. She agrees that it is time to stop them and see a cardiologist. We need to know why I am retaining the fluid…she isn’t saying what she thinks is the cause but I know what she is thinking. She wants me to see a cardiologist because she thinks it could be heart failure or a valve issue. Great. I went home and still didn’t have any answers. This could easily happen again. I drank water…a lot of water. I wanted my fluid volume to come back up so the blood pressure would level out. I improved through the evening but still had a few low blood pressure and pulse issues in the morning. I thought it would have been better by now. I made my commute to work and had a decent day. My pulse was low and I was monitoring it pretty close because I worried that it wasn’t going back to normal yet. Then in the afternoon, I felt pretty good. I got a lot of work done. Crisis averted!

Then it happened again. I was driving home from work and I started having tightness in my chest, numbness and tingling in my arms, fullness in my throat…fuck. It’s nothing, right? I don’t want to go back to the ED and be told its nothing…again. No…I’m going home. It’s fine. It will pass…I’ll keep hydrated and drink water.

It didn’t pass. By the time I finally got home I was stressed because I knew that the weakness I now had was the last straw and that there was no way I could ignore it. I asked my daughter to drive me to the local ED. They didn’t play any games. Another chest xray and lots more blood taken and then a doctor calmly telling me that I was being admitted to the tele unit because I had come in for the same thing twice in a week. They needed to figure out what was going on with me. I bought a sleepover party at the hospital this time. That is scary…I spend a lot of time in the hospital for work…I have not had to go through this process of being a patient though. It sucks and I just wanted to go home.

That first evening in the hospital was uneventful. I was scared of what was going to happen and what they were going to find, but two of my daughters were there and Daddy left work early to be there with me. I felt safe. So far my tests looked good. Labs were still normal. Chest xray was still normal. Then a hospitalist came in and asked me if I had ever had an echo or was previously told that I had heart failure. What? No….I’ve never been told that before. So this is what’s happening then…we are going to work me up to determine if I am in heart failure…I know what they are going to do before he even has the chance to tell me. I will be having a stress test and an echo before I go home. I am on a continuous heart monitor, have an IV and need to wear the compression device on my legs to prevent a DVT. It was getting late so my visitors went home to get some sleep now that the initial crisis was over.

More blood tests with normal results overnight, a stress test with imaging before and after the test, and an echocardiogram. Yep…all normal. My new favorite person, my cardiologist, tells me that I have a healthy heart. No coronary artery disease. No valve prolapse. No heart failure. I am ok. The water is probably from too much salt in my diet. The cardiac symptoms were a result of taking the water pills with a normal blood pressure along with losing a large amount of fluid quickly. I need to start exercising more and make improvements to my diet. I can take the water pills when I notice the water building up but don’t need to take it every day.

I can go home. I just got my do-over. I am one of the lucky ones…this was a wake-up call to tell me that I needed to find a way to manage my stress, get more active again and to be grateful for what I have instead of worrying about everything that isn’t going smoothly.

Today, I am grateful. I am grateful for my amazing Daddy. He takes wonderful care of me. He respects me and he loves me. I am a lucky girl to have him in my life. I am grateful to my amazing family. My kids dropped everything and stepped up to take care of things at home when I wasn’t there and spent the evening and next day at the hospital with me, never complaining about being stuck there…not even once. They are amazing kids and I am grateful to them for being them every day. My parents and sister and brother were an amazing support system in making sure that everyone was taken care of, offering to help in any way that I needed. I know they were worried but they never increased my stress…they were truly supportive and wonderful. My friends…I’m so grateful to my besties. They checked on me and made me feel loved and supported. I was scared and they helped me to keep my head on straight. Finally, I am grateful for my co-workers…my manager and director and others in the organization who were amazing throughout this week. They told me to take care of myself and didn’t make me feel like it was a problem to be away. They were generally concerned about my well-being. Not everyone has that and I am truly grateful for my work family.

I am a lucky girl and I am going to appreciate my life. When I get stressed and feel overwhelmed…I am going to try harder to remember all the good things that happened this week and everything that I have to be grateful for. Now…I’m going to have some oatmeal for breakfast and go for a walk.

Je suis contente

Happy [hap-ee] adjective, happier, happiest.

  1. Delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing
  2. Characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy
  3. Favored by fortune; fortunate or lucky
  4. Apt or felicitous, as actions, utterances, or ideas

Synonyms: cheerful, contented, delighted, ecstatic, elated, glad, joyful, joyous, jubilant, lively, merry, overjoyed, peaceful, pleasant, pleased, thrilled, upbeat, blessed, captivated, gleeful, gratified.

I have not journaled in a long time. I don’t like to write just because I think I should. I write sometimes out of stress, occasionally for self-therapy as a way to express myself and to validate my feelings and today I write from a peaceful place. It pleases me immensely that my followers enjoy and relate to my writing but truthfully, I write for me. I write because it makes me feel good and allows me to look back at my experiences and feelings and growth.

Today, I write from the dining room table in the house of my amazing boyfriend, lover, daddy, and safe place. He is my happy place. I can hear him outside mowing the lawn while I prepare dinner inside, listening to music and just smiling to myself. I sit here reflecting on relationships gone wrong, poor choices and how all those lessons led me to him at the exact right time.

A good friend has always told me that I am perfect. As he mentored me, he made me repeat it to him every time I saw him. It made me uncomfortable at first but I recognize that it was an exercise in loving myself, to quit being so hard on myself and not to change myself for anyone other than for me. I love me. I’m a strong, smart, pretty, funny, driven, trusting and loving follower that tries to see the good in everyone. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I have been fooled and taken advantage of by bullies, liars and narcissistic men who were foolish enough to think that I would tolerate those characteristics once I learned who they really were when they weren’t on stage in front of my friends.

I see it now. My lessons learned are clear as day and I can see them because this wonderful man has opened my eyes. When I met him two months ago, I thought he was too good to be true. No one is this nice, caring, loving and generous. I was guarded and waiting for something bad to happen, waiting for this man to show his true colors and make me feel foolish, broken and devastated. Guess what…he is every bit as incredible today as he was that first day and he keeps getting better as our relationship grows stronger.

As I try to evaluate our path and the things that have gone right compared to the failures in the past, I have found a few things that have become keys to our success.

Open and honest communication. This has become our cornerstone. Without the ability to feel safe being open and honest, we have nothing. I feel safe sharing my thoughts and feelings and he does the same. As we have talked and shared simple daily thoughts and dreams, we have learned just how much we have in common and our bond continues to strengthen because of this.

We have made a point to always send a good morning text…every…single…morning, no matter how busy our day is about to be. This has been what starts my day for two months and how I start my stressful days with a smile. “Bonjour babe, je t’aime. Je te souhaite une journee agreeable”.  Seriously…what the fuck…makes my heart race just reading it here.

This leads us to my French lessons. Sure, I learned a bit in school but I sucked at it. Now, I feel inspired to remember the things that I previously learned and continue to try to learn more. I have a goal to learn more and become conversational. French is his native language and the language his family continues to speak at home in Paris. I have met his mother via facetime and I would love to be able to speak to her without him translating for us. He talks about going home in the fall and bringing me with to meet his family. I want to be able show the respect to his family by speaking in their language as much as I can when we are there. We speak in French when I can so my vocabulary is slowly growing…I speak at the level of 5 year old but you have to start someplace and I am determined to improve.

We both find it critical for our relationship to speak on the phone every night before going to sleep and have never missed a night. Sometimes that call to say goodnight becomes a 2-hour conversation with laughs and a French lesson. Bon nuit daddy. Bon reve. Tu me monque. Gros bisou. Je t’aime. How do you not fall asleep with a smile every night after that?

We laugh, he makes me dance, he gives an amazing spanking when I need it (and lets face it…I need it a lot), he dehydrates me (thank goodness for tarps!) and I can honestly say that no one has ever fucked me like he does…damn! We go on dates, we do domestic shit around the house, we go out dancing with friends, we go to munches, we cook together, and we just enjoy cuddling and watching a good movie together. He is my leader. I trust him and have no reason to question his decisions. He takes care of me and never tries to make me feel small or weak. He empowers me, makes me feel beautiful and loved and is always making sure I am happy and feel safe. He has rescued me when my car broke down…twice…and makes me feel safe and secure when I am stressed and overwhelmed.

We also recognize that it is important to set goals and plans. It gives you a reason to wake up with a smile and provides something to work toward…even more so when you write it down. Accountability is important. We have goals and plans. We want to visit Nashville this summer. We want to visit France and Morocco in the fall and I want to learn more French prior to going on this trip. We want to make a plan to be together, to get that adorable house in the country with a hot tub, fireplace, four-wheelers and a dungeon 😉 Goals are what make us look forward to the future with a smile.

As I sit here writing, I look up and see him looking at me, smiling, as we listen to the lyrics to the songs from “A Star is Born”, the movie we watched the first night we were together. The love story and the music speaks to me. I said that I thought the lyrics were powerful…his response…”yes, like us”. He is right…we have a powerful bond full of love and passion. The lyrics to these songs are something we both keep coming back to months after that first date. We have hit the golden buzzer…independently yet simultaneously. I am delighted. I am peaceful. I am blessed.

Je suis contente.

Kinky Kollege Spring Break 2019

The endorphins continue to course through my veins. I’m home but my head is still in subspace and I can see the drop that is inevitably coming on the horizon. Three days and two nights of new experiences, bonding with old friends and absorbing the energy that is Kinky Kollege.

The drive home was uneventful. I felt like my happy self, singing my favorite music in the car as I made the drive home, still feeling the high of being submerged into the world of BDSM for the last 50 straight hours. I was a little sleepy, a little sore, but otherwise what feels like my normal self. I wrestled all my things into the house, hugged my kids, unpacked, and made dinner for my family. In the instant that I crossed the threshold of my home, I went from being the submissive restrained to a cross in the dungeon to a mom and all the stressors and demands that come with my daily life as I was thrown back into reality. It’s this reality that has me sitting here in my quiet living room, my kids all going about their evening, and that’s when the subdrop started. I miss my Daddy, my Besties, my friends and the energy from the weekend. I feel sad but not really sad. That’s the wrong word…I had an amazing weekend and it ended in an insanely happy and satisfying way…I am just not ready to face the world and my demanding life yet. I am sad that the weekend is over already.

Five months ago, I attended my first Kinky Kollege. It was eye opening and not only did I stomp some of my own personal boundaries into the ground, but I learned a lot about myself. A great deal has happened, both good and bad, in those 5 months that have elapsed and I looked forward to attending for my second time with excitement instead of anxiety. This Kinky Kollege experience did not disappoint. I walked into the private party space confident, now having prior memories of what the experience would include. I felt instantly comfortable wandering around and refamiliarizing myself with my surroundings. I excitedly unpacked all my bags into my hotel room that I jokingly noticed came supplied with a spanking bench. My besties and I all prepared ourselves for the evening in the dungeon together, excitedly getting dressed, applying our makeup and fixing our hair while singing and giggling as we put ourselves together to be our most confident selves.

Hotel room supplied with a spanking bench..how perfect!

I will admit that I was torn though. My Daddy accompanied me for the weekend but was not able to obtain a ticket to the event. He encouraged me to enjoy my time with my friends and wanted me to enjoy the dungeon. He not only gave me permission but he told me to play and have fun with my friends. When it was time to descend to the play space, he walked with us to the escalator, reminded me to have fun in the dungeon with my friends, and kissed me as I descended down to the event. I did as I was told, and accepted some light play in the form of some spanking and flogging at the cross by my protector. I think we all mostly just wanted to feel the energy but not wear ourselves out for the weekend on the first night. I went up to my room early so I could enjoy the real fun with mon Daddy in our room…our own private dungeon. He did not disappoint and we realized the genius in my plan to bring a tarp and an extra sheet for our bed so we could play without a care in the world.

Waiting for Daddy…

Saturday was a fun-filled day that started with a smile as I woke up in Daddy’s arms, my happy place. We enjoyed a wonderful breakfast, I went to a great class, had an emotional experience at Tapas as I fought my demons and then had a small group get together in our room for some laughs and dinner before getting ready for night two in the dungeon.

I was given the opportunity to have an incredible scene with a friend again, as I did at the last Kinky Kollege. He is the one who is responsible for helping me to smash my inhibitions into the ground in the dungeon, allowing myself to enjoy the scene that was skillfully crafted. I eagerly accepted the opportunity to play again, to be “warmed up” for my Daddy and was in a non-coherent subspace shortly after feeling the wrist cuffs clip to the cross.

The scene is now a blur of incoherent memories for me now…but I do remember smelling the leather of the flogger, and feeling both the stingy and thuddy sensations of various floggers and paddles and the dragontail as it bit the skin. I remember going through a series of responses that ranged from moaning, to growling and then outright laughing from the overwhelming sensation that I can no longer distinguish as pleasure or pain. I remember eventually being turned around, facing any observers and seeing the sadistic glint in the eyes of my friend expertly wielding that dragontail and not caring that I was standing there, restrained with my arms above me, wearing nothing but a garter belt and a pair of thigh high black nylons. At that moment…I didn’t care who saw me at my most vulnerable. I didn’t see anyone but the Dominant that now controlled me for these 45 minutes. I remember laughing and growling as the flogger descended upon my bare breasts and then came up to sting with a sensation that was a combination of pleasure and pain at my dripping pussy. I have a memory of growling through the pain as a paddle struck my sensitive nipples and then letting out a startled scream as the dragontail snapped loud right next to me but not reaching just to have it lightly bite the skin seconds later…which of course induced uncontrolled laughing from me and encouragement to continue to my torturer. My goodness…is there anything better than a good mindfuck? As the scene ended, I was released from my restraints, given a big hug and shakily sat down in a chair to recover. I sat among friends and in a daze for a while before getting dressed and making my way upstairs to Daddy to tell him about my evening in the dungeon.

Of course, that’s when Daddy put my play collar on me and accepted the gift of his babygirl all warmed up and ready to follow his commands. My mind had been shut off…I just remember staring up at him…waiting for his direction as he put my play-collar in place and held the leash. The intense look in his eyes as he told me that I was a good girl. I was in an incoherent state and puddle of floating bliss when he removed the collar. I woke up in his arms, my safe and happy place, to the sound of his voice saying “Bonjour babygirl” and I just about melted. I was so happy and just a little sad because of the realization that it was already Sunday and we would need to pack up and head home in the next several hours. Another weekend gone way too fast. Je t’adore, Daddy! Bisous pour toi!

Overall, it was a truly amazing weekend. Yes, I fought a demon and won! I taught that son of a bitch who is in charge…and in this situation…it was me, the submissive taking control of the gate. That demon no longer has any power over me. I also made so many memories with friends new and old and bonded even closer with my besties and my Daddy. Many lessons were learned but most important, I had the opportunity to be me. Uninhibited, strong, and submissive. Thank you to all of my people…I love you all! I truly do not know where I would be without all of your support and love and kindness both at the event and in these days post-event. I truly cannot wait until October!

Facing my demon…and winning

March 31, 2019

Tapas. It is one of those experiences at Kinky Kollege that I truly look forward to. It is an opportunity to try new things that I otherwise might not get the opportunity to experience. It was fun the way it is meant to be and then I faced my demon. 

I knew it was a fear…I got in line knowing that it would be scary to be face to face with a man holding a cane. I was previously traumatized by a cane. I endured a non-consensual brutal (brutal to me…not so much to those who enjoy this kind of play) caning several months ago. It left me deeply bruised to the inner thigh and tit. I know that this is a sort of play that many thoroughly enjoy but I didn’t want it. I am a girl who enjoys pain during play but I am also a girl who needs to be with a Dominant who understands my need for a gentle touch and nurturing warm up that builds to the pain that I need to let go of my stress, emotions and thoughts. I unfortunately now know what a very hard strike with a cane feels like, in the form of unearned punishment and I am petrified of enduring it again. 

I stepped into the line with my besties, fully expecting to be nervous. I took one look at the table, with several canes of varying sizes displayed on it, and my heartrate increased, I was having trouble catching my breath, I was shaking and the tears silently rolled down my face. I was comforted by one of my besties and my protector as I watched my other bestie enjoy the caning demonstration skillfully delivered by a trusted friend and Dominant. I watched and felt my anxiety grow to levels that I didn’t expect to feel. I was experiencing a full panic attack and I felt weak and pathetic. 

I was approached by my friend, the one providing the demonstration opportunity. He helped me to breathe and encouraged me to let him help me fight my demon. I knew that that this implement did not have to be used brutally. I needed to feel that it didn’t’ have to be awful and traumatizing. I cried…I removed my dress and shakily climbed onto the spanking bench. Light taps…pain level barely a 2. I obviously could handle so much more across my ass but I still felt scared. He talked to me, helped me think about how low the pain level was and that I could handle a 4. I said yes, I wanted to feel a 4…it stung but it wasn’t that bad. OK…I am ready to feel a 6. Fuuuck…that stung and he made me laugh as he admitted it was probably a 6.25 so I could probably handle a 7…which, of course was a 7.75…making me prepared for the 8. This stung like a motherfucker and I felt like I had enough. I wasn’t panicked anymore. I felt ok..I did it!

Then I realized that I wasn’t done. I was now sitting instead of kneeling, wearing nothing but my panties, and I was going to feel the cane across my thigh. Once on each leg. I panicked….this is my trigger. I remembered being told to kneel with my knees apart and feeling that cane strike me at a 10/10 six times in rapid succession to my right inner thigh. I started shaking…crying but I didn’t move. I was reassured that it would be ok. It was. He waited until I said I was ready…strike one to the left leg…yes, it stung like hell but it was tolerable. I could see the stripe immediately. A few deep breaths and I nodded to accept the second one to the right thigh…with that snap of the cane…I felt my strength come back. I was shaking… tears ran down my face…but I felt strong. I faced my demon and I won. I showed that motherfucker that I am fucking resilient and will not be controlled by my fear anymore. I hugged my friend and thanked him for what he had done. 

A non-consensual caning after 10 days of healing…
A lovingly given cane strike a day after it was given.

It is amazing to me…the emotions that I feel when I look at these two photos…the same tool was used yet such drastic feelings that they evoke from my core.

Tonight, I am home, reflecting on my KK experience. I have a bruised stripe on each thigh and the sight of the lines do not make me feel panicked. They make me feel pride. He saved me from myself. He gave me a piece of myself back. The piece that was broken…the piece that I thought had been healed by time. Instead, it was healed with the help of friends and a cane in the skillful hand of a sadist that I trust with all of my being. You don’t find friends like that everyday and I am so thankful for his willingness to help me.

The Heart is a Funny Thing…

February 9, 2019

The heart is a funny thing. It is the first sign of life…it’s that fast whooshing beat that creates so much joy and excitement for an expectant mom. It is the calming sound as you rest your head on your lover’s chest that allows you to settle into your happy and peaceful place. It also causes the sadness and grief when it eventually ceases to exist.

Then there is heartbreak. This happens when you are in a happy and peaceful place just to have that happiness abruptly ripped out from under you. It’s like a tablecloth in a magic trick. Sometimes everything on the table stays as it is…as if nothing happened. Other times, it creates havoc and a mess, and everything is out of control.

My current state leaves me on the brink of heartbreak. I feel out of control, stressed, overwhelmed and sad. I have no reason to feel this way other than knowing that there is a very real possibility of my heart being broken soon. I have kept my protective walls up for so long in an attempt at preventing myself from ever feeling this way again. I have become a master at predicting that things are going south and finding a way to end it myself, on my terms so I don’t have to feel the heartache. I took a chance though…I let my walls come down. I have met, bonded and fallen in love with an amazing man. When he looks me in the eye and tells me that he loves me…I feel his love and his fierceness makes me want him to just take me again.

This man…my Daddy Dom…he is my safe place. He makes me laugh, puts me in my floaty place and holds me tight. I know my place with him and he makes me so happy. He bought me a beautiful collar which has not yet been placed around my neck. Tonight, I sit here and wonder if it ever will. Now…he is faced with a huge decision. Stay here with me or accept a change in his employment which would be a wonderful opportunity but would take him halfway across the country. I want so badly to be selfish…to beg him to stay. “Please don’t leave me”. I will be lost without him. I can’t be selfish though. I need him to do what is right for him. I do not ever want him to look back and regret not accepting an opportunity because of me. I never want him to be resentful of me for holding him back.

So now I wait. I wait for my Daddy Dom to make this difficult decision. I can feel his pain, his stress and his strength as he weighs all of the pros and cons of staying and leaving. I know that he is going to make the right decision. Perhaps, if he chooses to relocate for his job, we can find a way to make this work. Maybe it will be the end of us. Maybe I worry for nothing. Maybe he will stay, and this worrying will all be for nothing. Too many maybes.

Tonight, I sit in my bedroom…nursing a cold that he lovingly gave to me last week. I am wishing that he was here to hold me, ground me and to stop the tornado from spinning in my head. He has a way of just making everything ok. He is my safe place. He is my protector. He is my love. He is my Daddy. I will support him in whatever he decides. Of course, I am praying that the decision includes me but in serving him, all I really want is for him to be happy. If I am being honest with myself…what I want more than anything, is to continue to be able to rest my head on his chest as he holds me tight, listening to his heart beat.

2019 is my year to thrive…

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OK…so it has been a week since I made the decision to create this blog…website…place to reflect. I did not intend for anyone to actually read anything…although I am happy that you are here. I have found that writing about my lessons, experiences and stressors help me deal with them, putting them here for others to read makes them real. Knowing that individuals read this and relate to what I am going through helps me and I truly enjoy knowing that my experiences may actually help someone along the way. What I do not need is any critiques. This is filled with my opinions and experiences…there is no wrong or right here…it is my perception of my reality. I do not seek to argue or defend myself. I just want everyone to get along.

I’m an optimistic person. I like to describe my world as my personal bubble…it smells like cotton candy and there is a rainbow in it too! There are days that are really rough but I don’t want them to control me. What could be so difficult? Nothing dramatic for sure…there are many who live easier lives than myself…but I also know that many have it a lot worse than I do so I try real hard to be thankful and not take my life for granted. I am divorced, I am a mom of four teenagers, I am the daughter of amazing parents, the sister of some great individuals, I am well educated, have a great career, am a homeowner, and am proud of my accomplishments. I am secretly a submissive…oh if my family knew…they would think I needed help because this cannot be a normal way to live my life. It is the normal that I choose though and it makes me feel happy and safe. I will walk out my door every morning with a smile on my face. I will go out of my way to do a great job at work and to help anyone that needs it.

My current struggle is that my submissive self is in desperate need of a Dominant to calm that storm that swirls out of control in my head. The problem that came to me today as I reflected was that even the best Dominant cannot fix this storm. I need to gain control of myself in order for anyone else to calm me. I have always been crazy organized and have a plan for the future yet the world around me feels like it is in a state of turmoil. Cluttered surroundings become a cluttered mind and creates an out of control submissive. This cannot be fixed with a hug or a spanking either. Those are temporary fixes but I need the real correction. I am the only one that can do this…the realization of me needing to take control of my surroundings and life is what makes me a strong submissive woman. Only the strong can take control, fix the issues and care for others while submitting personal control to another. I have no doubt that I will be successful and come out stronger for this experience. Sometimes you need to have a few failures in life in order to learn some lessons and to become stronger. I started to spiral out of control at the end of 2018…this is going to be my year. 2019 is where is I take control and become the submissive that I was meant to be.

Today, I have created a plan to get myself back on track. My plan includes reflecting here regularly as well as writing some journals/stories to release some of the tension and to share some of the lessons that I learn along the way. I have created a written journal of lists, to do’s, goals, challenges and accomplishments so that I can look back in the bound pages and see the journey unfold. It becomes a sense of pride. Once I have my life organized again…I will be able to be the true submissive that I am. There is always something blocking me from letting go completely lately…I believe it is because of all my personal stressors. Letting go momentarily helps but those stressors are still there when I wake. Organization, de-cluttering, having a plan…these will all create the calm atmoshere that I need to be able to focus on what is important.

For now, I close this and continue on my vanilla day of housecleaning, laundry, bill pay and de-cluttering my surroundings. Once I get this routine in place…I will be able to focus on serving. I know as well as anyone that I cannot serve if I do not take care of myself first. I forgot about self-care. What was I thinking?! Today is the beginning of my positive changes. Today is where I take control of my happiness. I am finally ready. I am going to thrive in 2019.

The Joys of Online Dating for a Submissive

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I have found that many online cannot commit. Some are married, others want a kinky friend with benefits (FWB) and many more call themselves Dominants but have no idea what a real submissive even is. 

“Wait…so you’re submissive? So, if I tell you to show me your tits, you have to do it, right?” … Wow, yeah that is exactly how it works. I just blindly follow the orders of every asshat on the street because, as a submissive, I do not have any functioning brain cells. What a fucking moron.

These little boys have no idea the strength, resilience and trust it takes to submit to someone. I know that I have more strength in me on a bad day than these pathetic boys will ever hope to have. I digress…this sounds judgmental now doesn’t it? Believe it or not, I do not judge all of these individuals because they are all making choices that are right for them. What I perceive as unfair though, is that they sometimes judge me harshly for not wanting to be involved in what they are rationalizing as an appropriate decision that is working for them in their situation. I think that some have forgotten that just because I am online and am an unattached submissive, it doesn’t mean that I am obligated to submit to their needs and be happy to serve a lonely, sex deprived, elderly married man. “Hot damn…where do I sign up for that?! I NEED TO SNATCH THAT ONE UP BEFORE HE GETS AWAY!!”I think that someone is forgetting that I also have the right to make the choices that are right for me and those choices include seeking a relationship with someone who I am attracted to…yep, that’s right boys, just because you like getting off to my pictures, doesn’t mean that I can stand the sight of you. 

Age can be a real issue. I receive a lot of messages from boys…yes I’m calling you boys…who want to fulfill their fantasy of finding Mrs Robinson. Hate to burst your bubble kids…I have ZERO interest in a single one of you. I don’t care if you are 22 and keep it hard for hours…my glass dildo lasts even longer, and I have more skill in my right hand than you do in that cock that I see in your profile picture with the remote control or water bottle. Oh…I’m sorry, you thought you were being original. On the opposite end of the spectrum is the entitled elderly “gentleman” who swears that it still works…just give him a chance. Guess what, I’ll bet that old toothbrush lying on the curb on garbage day still works too…doesn’t mean I’m going to put it in my mouth. Gross. I get a lot of rude comments from men that are 70-ish. Apparently, I am not so young either and as a 47-year-old woman, I should just give up and fuck him because he is as good as it gets for me. “Whew! So glad he found me in time!” I am not looking for young and I am not looking for old. I am not looking for a rich guy to take care of me either. Quit telling me about your money. I DON’T CARE. I love my job, I have worked hard for what I have and I won’t be leaving my career to serve you or anyone else. What I seek is someone within 10 years of my own age. As I have told my submissive friends, if I can’t picture myself willingly on my knees, begging him to allow me to worship his cock on a regular basis…I can tell you right now that he will never be my Dominant, no matter how much I respect him and value his friendship. My Dominant will be attractive to me, kind but strict, he will allow me to be myself while molding me to be the submissive that I long to be, he will be funny and allow me to embrace my creativity and humor, sometimes without consequence (as long as I am being respectful, of course!) and he will be a true long term and loving partner. 

I guess that I am just a bad girl for not wanting to submit to that married guy. Hurry…someone spank me for that!! I should probably feel bad for their tough life of deprived sexual contact. If they are that miserable, they should either fix it or leave. I am not here to fill their void. I will be the cherished partner…NEVER the secret one. Many love to tell me that they love their wife or their girlfriend so they don’t want to leave…what was I thinking? I should understand this and just let them fuck me on the side. We can be “discreet” so no one gets hurt. He can just give me orders, demand naughty pictures and control me from a distance. “Wow…that sounds awesome! What a lucky girl I am to be chosen for this great honor. Fuck off buddy…not interested.” This is a win-win situation only for him…the great and powerful almighty Dom. Guess what asshole…I WOULD GET HURT BECAUSE SUBMISSION IS NOT AN EMPTY ACT FOR ME. I guess I don’t count, huh?

Here’s the thing…I was married once too. I loved my husband and continue to love him. We were not on the same page anymore though. It happens. My marriage was no longer healthy. My needs were not being met. Instead of seeking it elsewhere and taking the easy road by staying married, I divorced him and found my way. I did not expect others to compromise their self-respect by asking them to be part of a cheating wife’s escapades. Perhaps they wouldn’t have cared. With that being said, I am actually not judging. I know it sounds like I am, but I just don’t want to be part of the triangle in someone else’s marriage. I don’t share well. If I’m playing, fucking and connecting with someone…he is not going home to someone else’s bed. I am not spending all of my holidays alone while he enjoys it with the family he pretends does not exist when he is with me. That’s where it hurts me. I will NEVER be someone’s dirty little secret. 

Here is the thing I learned from all of this. I think that when we first enter this lifestyle, we dip our toes in the water, we start experimenting and search for what we perceive is the ideal partner…whether it is of the Dominant or submissive persuasion. A young, fit, attractive person with an infectious personality and a great career…then we wake the fuck up and realize that the only thing that should really matter is the connection, energy and dynamic. Newbies tend to need the handsome prince or princess…I have found that handsome is all in the eye of the beholder. I have met socially beautiful people just to find them turning ugly as they open their mouth to speak. I have also met socially average to below-average looking individuals and found myself incredibly attracted because of the way they treat me and the wonderful and loving personality that they have. Sometimes you do need to kiss a few toads to find that prince but when you do, you’ll be glad you tossed those toads back into the pond…or the highway…whatever works.

I am a natural submissive. Do not mistake my kindness (and a simple hello) for weakness. I am nice to everyone unless you give me a reason not to be. I will be sassy to everyone…seriously…what does a girl need to do to get a spanking around here? Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know…I’ll add it to the list! 

Newbie subs…don’t give up and don’t settle. Let the toads all sort it out in the murky pond on their own. Your prince will find you when you least expect it. He/she is worth the wait.

I am A submissive…not YOUR submissive

11/22/18

I am A submissive. I am not YOUR submissive. I really don’t care how long you have been in the community. I truly don’t care how much experience you have. Your expectation of what a submissive needs to be may not match the kind of submissive that I am. I am a natural submissive. I am also an Alpha Submissive who knows exactly what I want, what I need and how I want to serve. I refuse to top from the bottom because I am a follower who needs to be given the safe place to shut off my brain. I need a Dominant who understands my needs and knows not only how to fill them, but that finds his needs met in the process. I NEED to give my submission, but I will not disrespect myself by settling for anything or anyone who does not meet my needs or does not treat me with respect. I will NOT be judged by any Dominant who cannot or chooses not to understand this. I am not yours to judge. I am not yours to criticize. I am not yours to punish. I cannot trust or respect anyone who thinks otherwise.

In my opinion, finding the Dominant that is right for any submissive is not any different than vanilla dating. OMG…the Dom wants to dominate me…I must submit immediately because of this great honor! FUCK THAT SHIT. Seriously, what makes him worthy of my submission, my trust, my adoration? Sometimes you know on that very first date that there is no way that this is going to go anywhere. Other times, it may take a few dates and a play session or two to know the same. Sometimes you are fooled and fall for the egotistical narcissist. There may even be the time when you just need to play without the intention of a relationship. Oh my god…it’s a hook-up. What…a…slut. Fuck off if that’s what you think. Yeah, I had one of those too. It was an amazingly fun night and I don’t regret it for a second. Sometimes, you receive an unexpected message and just click. Sometimes you meet for coffee and find that the connection is exactly what you were looking for. Sometimes you allow your walls to crumble down all around you because you know that this incredible man is offering everything you need and what you offer is what he seeks in return. Sometimes you find yourself giving your gift of submission and accepting his ownership sooner than what friends think you should. Sometimes they forget that they do not know what has transpired in private to make you feel safe, allowing you to make this decision. Sometimes they forget that you are a grown ass woman who is smart and her brain processes situations at a constant rate, always thinking about her safety and vulnerability but knowing that you have to take a leap of faith on occasion. Sometimes you don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks when this miraculous event happens. I am happy. Don’t you dare try to steal that from me. 

The important part is that one recognizes when a relationship is not right for them and moves on instead of stringing someone along or feeling trapped in a relationship that isn’t healthy. I have done some dating this year. Yes, these men were all wonderful people (I reserve the right to say that one most certainly was not) who were not a good match for me but are making another submissive very happy. I continue to have respect for them and want nothing more than to know that they have found happiness. I enjoyed the company of a wonderful Dominant whose needs I could not meet. Another who could never meet mine. I gave another a fair chance, attempted to submit even but I could not trust his leadership or ability to keep me safe. Perhaps people need to understand that you can’t believe everything you see and that things happen behind closed doors that you don’t know about. Sometimes people act one way in public and so very differently at home. Sometimes they like to act like they want to learn and even play the role when you are watching just to go back to being arrogant and looking down their nose at those who tried to help. Sometimes the dominant act ends the minute the car door closes, and he becomes his vanilla and judgmental self when no one in the community is watching, making the sub miserable and defensive of her friends.  Sometimes people just don’t like to admit that they fell for the same bullshit that I did. Yet, I am now a bad submissive because I took my life back and will not allow someone to make me feel bad about myself in order to make themselves feel like a real Dominant. Sometimes people like to discuss this and judge you because you didn’t sit at home crying about your loss and instead moved on and continued your search for happiness. I also would have been called a fool to stay in a relationship like this. Sometimes, you just can’t win. I will never allow myself to be a victim. No one has the right to judge me for leaving a relationship that I can describe as nothing less than mentally abusive. Period. There are some absolutely amazing men whom I have had the pleasure of meeting and befriending that are not and never will be good matches for me. There is nothing wrong with that. We all have different kinks and different needs from a D/s dynamic. I’m not judging your needs. You don’t get to judge mine.

Contrary to popular belief, I am not a brat. Don’t mistake my strength for brattiness. I am not your submissive, therefore I do not follow your rules. You are just another male in the room. You will receive the same respect that I give to everyone human. Here is the thing about me. I cannot give my full submission and tear down my carefully built walls of protection to someone who cannot provide the boundaries and leadership that I require. I need boundaries, rules, and structure. When I respect and trust a Dominant, I will happily stay within those boundaries and follow every damn rule down to the letter. Will I test the boundaries just a little every now and then? Hell yes, I will. I need to know that they are real and that you are going to keep me in them as promised. If my Dominant can provide this in our dynamic, he is rewarded with my respect, trust, adoration, and total compliance. 

Yes, I have moved on. Will this be the lasting D/s relationship that I have been seeking? Maybe…maybe not. Sometimes you have to take a chance and see what happens. For now…I have rules. I have boundaries. I have given my submission and trust to an amazing Dominant. My Master, in turn, has provided a safe place and the structure that I need. I do not test his boundaries. This is not out of fear of punishment rather it is my need to please him and to ensure that he is proud to own me.  I love having these boundaries and want to comply. I accept his ownership and I trust him to lead me to the place he knows that I need to be. I know my place. I am happy. Don’t rain on my fucking parade.

Our First Meeting

11/14/2018

It has been a whirlwind. I woke up this morning after barely sleeping all night. I was nervous and SO excited. I was about to see my Master face to face for the first time. We had a wonderful connection online and have progressed even more since we started texting, but I was so afraid that our connection would fail once we were sitting across from each other. Maybe he wouldn’t think that I was the right submissive for him. Maybe I would be curvier than he expected. Perhaps I wouldn’t feel the connection that I thought I would feel. Anything could happen. I took a deep breath and walked out the door to meet him at Starbucks.

I received my first message from Master a mere week ago. I wasn’t sure what to think with that first “Good Morning”. He said that he loved my profile, introduced himself as an experienced Master…he wanted to speak with me. I was already intimidated a little. I knew immediately that he was the real deal. He was not one of the vanilla boys trying to convince a submissive that he is a Dominant. His energy was different, and I felt it.

Master was handsome. He called me his sweet sub. He asked me many questions about my experience, my needs, the limits that I want challenged. He reassured many of my fears before I had the chance to verbalize them. He provided his cell phone number, told me the town he lived in, the type of work he does, and all about his family. I felt his pain when he shared the recent loss of his parents, and I felt the pride he has in his children. He was so optimistic and had so much energy in his writing. I had to talk to him more.

Just four days after that first text, I responded to his message as soon as I read it. Then I thought about it for a few moments and decided that it was silly to write it there when a phone number had been provided. I then picked up my phone and shakily sent him a text message. I wasn’t sure if he would even respond but it was exciting to send the message anyway. Within just a few short minutes, my phone vibrated on my desk. I had received my first text response with additional pictures so I would know him along with a big enthusiastic thank you for being comfortable enough to communicate through text. 

Over the next several days, we texted frequently. He asked many questions and I answered promptly, with detail, often offering more than what he requested. He was kind, encouraging, and very easy to talk to. I never felt judged about my feelings or experiences. I was telling him everything and I was being praised for my promptness and openness to share.

The next day, we continued our communication and I found us already talking about sessions. He answered all of my questions and put me at ease. I received my first assignment that evening. He wanted a picture of me wearing something that I thought Master would enjoy seeing me wear. Yikes! No pressure, right? What was he looking for? I decided to take a picture the way I was. A strong, independent woman who had just returned from a long day at work. Then I changed into some tasteful lingerie with my heels and sent that as a contrast to display my inner submissive that desperately wanted to come out. I was already feeling his control. Did I just refer to myself as his slut? This was exhilarating and horrifying at the same time. Am I being manipulated or is he the wonderful Master that I think he is and I am finally feeling like the submissive that I know that I am? How do I know the difference? I share my fears with him and he reassures me that my feelings are normal. He reminds me of his experience as a Master and that I need to trust and let him help me. He is right. I needed to stop overthinking everything.

I received my second assignment. He wanted me to write a short story for him. I needed to describe our first session. Why? This was scary. I did not want it to be pathetic and basic but I also did not want to go overboard and set an expectation of what he may interpret as what I want or need from a first session. I asked some clarifying questions and set to get writing. I wrote my heart out, imagining what it may be like. I described what I thought my fears, excitement and emotions of that day would be and I shared it with him as directed. I was nervous as he read the story. What if he didn’t approve? What if he thought it was dumb? I would be so embarrassed. When I write, it comes from deep within me. No filters. My true self on the paper. Vulnerable and raw.

It was only 5 days since we started our journey, and Master told me that I may be the sub that he was looking for. We hadn’t met yet but he said that he felt as if he already owned me…and I felt owned. I felt as though I knew my place and all I really wanted was to please my Master. I trusted him. I wanted to please him. Then he asked me:” Who’s your Master baby?” and without hesitation, I replied “You are my Master”. He later texted me that he decided to claim ownership; I was now his sexual slave, his whore, his slut and his sweet sub. I was owned and I was happy. 

The next morning began the daily pictures of what I would be wearing to work. Master told me that he enjoyed the story that I wrote for him and that he was proud of what I had done for him. My words excited Master and I was so happy! We made plans to meet the next morning for coffee so Master and slave could finally meet face to face. Has it really only been a week?!  The excitement Masters’ whore felt was palpable. I could barely concentrate on anything. I was so excited! I went to bed that night smiling and restless in anticipation.

I woke up that morning with a big smile. In a few short hours, I would be sitting across the table from my Master! I put my fears and anxiety aside and got out of bed and began to get ready. I texted Master a picture of what I would be wearing to meet him as requested, and then headed out the door.

I arrived early, ordered a drink and sat down with my computer. I wanted to be early because I did not want to leave Master waiting for me and also so that I could get settled and feel relaxed when he arrived. Every time the door opened, I looked up wondering if he was the one arriving. I learned that this is a very busy coffee shop! So many people order online and come through that door! Finally, I heard the door open again, and there he was. I recognized him immediately. Master was handsome and had a smile on his face. He walked over to me, introduced himself as I stood up, and gave me the most wonderful hug. If I had any doubts before that moment, they all vanished that very instant. Feeling Masters’ arms around me felt like a safe place. I was so very happy. I was the luckiest girl on the planet.

We spent the next 3 hours sitting across from each other, talking about everything from family to the D/s dynamic. It was wonderful, my mind was completely at ease. He was the man I thought he was, the Master that I was hoping he would be. I knew he was being honest and I loved him for being so wonderful. He held my hands as we talked, he was very distracted by my breasts and I was distracted about the pulsing I felt in my wet pussy. I excused myself to the bathroom once and he hugged me with his face right in my cleavage as I walked by.  I didn’t want to walk away! Apparently, that behavior is frowned upon in the coffee shop, so I had to keep walking! When I returned, we agreed that we would like to proceed with the dynamic that we had already begun. I had a handsome and wonderful Master. I knew that it was the start of something fantastic. It was exciting and scary, but I was ready for the adventure!

He walked me to my car. It was cold outside, but I did not feel the cold. I put my purse in my car and I could feel my heart beating as he put his arms around me again. My God I cannot get enough of his hugs! He looked deep into my eyes and I thought I was going to melt right then and there. When he kissed me, I could feel all the butterflies fluttering around inside me. He is a wonderful kisser, I could just keep kissing him for hours if he let me. He took my hand and allowed me to feel how firm he was; I was so happy and so very wet. I wanted badly for him to just take me away and really make me his. To truly claim what he already owns. It was going to have to wait a few weeks. I knew that and it was going to be torture but it would be worth it when the day finally comes. Another passionate kiss and we needed to go our separate ways for the day. Already? Why did that 3 hours have to go by so quickly?

We then said our good byes, I got into my car and took a deep breath. Did that just happen? Oh, it did, and it was amazing. I have the most wonderful Master. I am all in. I will do what it takes to please him and make him proud. I will be the best whore I can be, and I know that with his guidance I will be successful.

I am strong. 

I am resilient.

I am submissive.

I am owned.

I am whole.

Kinky Kollege

10/28/18

Kinky Kollege…I have been hearing about it for months. I bought my ticket and reserved my room, but I was petrified. No matter how much everyone tries to prepare you for what to expect, you just can’t comprehend what it really feels like to attend until you experience it for yourself.

I am an unowned submissive and I was going to Kinky Kollege alone. Well, not truly alone because I had my bestie, my protector and many other friends that I have met in this incredible community. I did not have a Dominant…it wasn’t about not having someone to play with though. It was about me feeling like I needed someone to lead me through this experience. Someone to make me step outside that comfort zone and truly be my unguarded self. I wanted to be me, and I was worried that if I did not have someone to push me, I probably wouldn’t allow myself to be vulnerable.

My bestie and my protector are amazing. Through their encouragement, I put on the corset and skirt that I bought for the weekend, took a deep breath, and went into the dungeon. It was the second scariest thing that I have ever done. Of course, at the time, I thought it was the absolutely scariest and overwhelming thing ever…but it wasn’t. I felt liberated. I enjoyed being me. I felt safe, confident, happy and me.

I had the opportunity to play that first night with an amazing Dominant friend. He made me feel safe and gave me the opportunity to experience playtime in the Kinky Kollege dungeon. I had so much fun and I finished the night feeling stronger and more confident than when I arrived. I shakily walked away from that session with some beautiful bruises that continue to develop even today. Saturday was filled with spending time with friends at the many classes that were offered and going to Tapas, where I had the opportunity to be tied up and confined in Shibari ropes. I loved it…so…much. I NEED more of that in my life. I took a bondage class and learned a little bit about self-ties, so I bought some pretty rope to play with and look forward to enjoying more in the future.

Saturday night came with more anticipation and excitement than Friday night. Friday I was panicked about walking into the dungeon in my corset, a sheer skirt and breasts exposed. Saturday…not at all. I was where I belonged. I was confident. I was happy. I had the opportunity and pleasure to play with another wonderful Dominant friend. As excited as I was to play…I was shaking and nervous. This was easily the most difficult thing I have ever done…so much harder than entering the dungeon on Friday…removing my corset…and then my skirt and standing in front of that St Andrews Cross. Exposed to the crowded dungeon in nothing but a thong…restrained, flogged and free. I let go of all of my stress, all of my insecurities, and all of my care about anything that doesn’t truly matter. I was me…and I was happy.

I was worried about going to Kinky Kollege without the security of a Dominant to lead me. In the end, I am so happy that I went alone. I found out just how strong…how resilient I really am. I have social anxiety…I am very nervous going to strange places alone, not knowing what to expect when I arrive. It is a battle that I fight frequently. This weekend, I drove to a hotel and checked into my room alone. I stepped out of that hotel room wearing clothing that made me feel good but that I did not think I would have the courage to leave my room wearing. A day later I found myself removing it in a crowded dungeon, not because I was ordered to, but because I wanted to. I wanted to be me. I wanted to prove to myself that I was strong enough to be who I am and with the encouragement and love from the most amazing kinky friends. I had the best weekend ever. 

Thank you to all my favorite people, for the hugs, the encouragement, the support and, of course, the floggings, spankings, dragontail whipping and orgasms! 

I can’t wait until next time!!

The Break-Up

10/22/2018

I woke up alone this morning for the first time in months. Interestingly, it is also the first time in months that I also woke with a smile, well rested and content. 

Break-ups suck. I’m not going to say that I am happy that this relationship ended. I cried. I felt horrible and I worried about my decision-making and if it was the right one. I truly thought that we had something real and that it would last like he promised. How can you care so much about someone, miss them when they aren’t there, but be miserable when you are face to face and interacting? I remember days coming home from work, looking forward to seeing him, just to be faced with comments and conversation that made me feel bad and sad. It would ruin the evening and all I wanted to do was curl up with my blanket and go to sleep. Was it intentional or just a personality clash? I will never know for sure. 

The mind is a fascinating thing to me. It is easily manipulated and fooled. We see red flags, our gut tells us that something isn’t right, but we ignore that sixth sense and convince ourselves that we are paranoid, that we are sabotaging our own relationships. We believe that we will regret leaving when we see what we walked away from. It is in that moment that the strong and resilient take note and examine those red flags, realizing that life will go on if we take control of ourselves again. 

There is a name for this…it’s called gaslighting and it is a form of psychological abuse when it is done deliberately. This type of manipulation is used to make you trust this person while doubting your own perceptions of sanity. You feel guilty for doubting this person that you trust. They justify and explain their actions differently than you remember the situation occurring and then fill your head with expressions of love and flattery to confuse and reason away any discrepancies in the story being told. You are reassured, then you doubt yourself, ignore your gut and become more confused. 

I have gone through this cycle more times that I can count in the past 6 weeks. As a nurse, I would have recognized it quickly if I watched a friend in this cycle. It’s interesting that you can’t see it when you are in it though. How can I be so happy after we are out with our friends, then get in the car and start talking about something fun that happened just to have my words twisted into something that was never intended? How can I go from being so happy to being made to feel so broken inside? Why does he keep doing this to me? My Dom is supposed to help me feel strong, to build me up, not to tear me down and feel small. Why do I have to try to be so careful about how I tell a story? I started building a wall to protect myself and then he would be angry that I am now pushing him away by being quiet. I can’t win.

Maybe he was just ego-centric and doesn’t realize the spiral he is placing me in…or maybe he is a narcissist who enjoys breaking me down so he can convince himself that he is the good guy there to rescue me over and over again. Funny that I didn’t need rescuing before I met him. In the end, it really doesn’t matter. He could just be a dumb guy that has no idea how his words hurt me. 

Regardless of the motives, no matter how much communication of my feelings and why I feel bad occurred, nothing was changing. It was getting worse instead of better. For my mental health, I needed to end the cycle.  What I know is that I am a genuinely happy person with a pretty stressful life. The last 6 weeks have been anything but happy for me. I blamed it on the end of summer, changes in work, family stresses; everything but what was looming over me. It took having a good friend ask me if was happy. What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m happy! It made me think though…I realized that he saw something that I didn’t see. I was not truly happy. I was actually quite miserable. I needed to fix it for me and for my kids. 

Yesterday was that day. With the help of my bestie and my protector, I survived the day of him moving all of his things out of my house. I saw then and again today that I made the right decision. Tonight, it is all over…life moves on like it always does. I walk about my house and see that there is nothing left of him here. My bedroom is neat and orderly again. My kitchen is back to the way I like it with my dishes back in the cabinets where they belong. I took control of my home back and we are all happy again. There is silence. It is peaceful. I feel content. 

As I close my thoughts, I have tears in my eyes as I think of all the fun we had. Great memories were made in the first few months we were together. I don’t know why things changed. I truly wish they didn’t. I want to be that happy girl again. I miss him. I miss the companionship.  I have grown. I won’t settle. I have learned from the experience. I will wake tomorrow stronger. 

I am a playful and happy girl that just wants everyone to get along.

I was timid. 

I am now resilient. 

Don’t fuck with me. 

The Collar

9/2/2018

I was scared. Fearing the unknown. I knew we were going to play later that night, but this felt different. His energy was different. I couldn’t grasp what it was that created my anxiety. I trust him. I follow him. I love him. I have no reason to fear him. What I needed was for him to reassure me, but he left the house and vanished for most of the afternoon, leaving me alone with my thoughts. What he didn’t know was that my stress built exponentially without his reassurance. What I didn’t know was that he spent the day planning his evening with me. Alone with my thoughts, which became stress and anger by the time he returned home. Stress and anxiety for the unknown. Anger because he wasn’t there to save me from myself. He arrived just in time for a quick shower and then out the door we went for whatever awaited me. We are a couple that is still learning our way in this relationship. We have a wonderful Leader/follower relationship but incorporating some of the D/s has been a learning experience. I had no idea just how much learning I was about to do.

            The ride to our friends’ home was mostly in silence. I was scared and upset. I couldn’t verbalize what was bothering me. I knew he had wanted me to wear a dress, but I chose not to, putting it in my bag to bring with instead. He didn’t say a word or question my clothing choice before we left or on the ride over. He waited until we were with friends to question my choices. Now I had an audience. I was embarrassed and angry…more than I was when I walked through the door. Questioning me about my decisions. I was pissed so I grabbed my bag and slammed the bathroom door when I went to go change into the damned dress. Why is that so damn important? WTF. When I came back and sat down on the couch, I just glared at him. I couldn’t speak. Tears just rolled down my face. I was questioned about why I was fighting him, but I couldn’t fully explain my thoughts. They were all floating around above my head, and I struggled to make sense of them. 

            I cried. A lot. I was out of control and needed to be put back together again. I didn’t know how and that scared me because I am usually in good control of myself. Not tonight. Not even close. I was then given a task. I was told to set the table and prepare for our meal with a friend while he and the homeowner went outside to the grill. I was distracted with my task, setting the table the way he likes, talking with a fellow submissive. I found myself feeling more like myself. Laughing even. We enjoyed a nice meal together, had wonderful conversation and my anxiety eased. The tension in the room lifted and I could breathe. I kept myself busy, cleaning up the dishes while the conversation continued. Then it was decided that we would go back to the living room. 

I felt tense and nervous again…the unknown had arrived. Part of me was relieved. I just wanted to get it over with. Survive whatever they had in store for me. In the room was a Sadist and my loving, sensual Dominant with a definite sadistic side and a fellow submissive who gave me encouragement. A spanking bench was carried into the living room. It was at that moment that I had a realization that I was going to be playing with an audience. I am shy. Modest. Some would argue the shy part but that is mainly because I survive the crippling shyness by using my humor and wit to mask it as best I can. It is always there though. It’s like a dark shadow that is always reminding me that someone is watching, listening and judging everything I say and do. It is a constant battle to ignore the shadow, to tell it to fuck off…that I don’t care what others think. The truth is that I do care. I wish I didn’t. The mere idea of being watched and critiqued (at least in my mind) was horrifying. That’s when the panic happened.

My Leader stood up in front of me, took my hand and instructed me to stand. My hands were shaking, I looked up at him with a quivering voice and tears in my eyes. Looking around the room, there were eyes on me, a bench I knew I would eventually be kneeling on, but not a single toy. What was he doing? He wasn’t giving me any clues at all. I was petrified. I was looking him in the eye and I know he saw my fear. He was kind, loving and reassuring. Then he was talking and I was barely comprehending his words until I finally put together the words and black piece of leather in his hand. It was a collar. It was pretty, elegant even with a pink heart hanging from it. My name was on one side and he tried to get me to read the other side but my eyes couldn’t focus on the tiny letters. Even now, I couldn’t say the exact words, but I know it said that I belonged to him. It was unexpected and my head was spinning. My breathing increased. I could feel my heart racing. He slowly put the collar on me, while calmly speaking to me in words that I don’t remember. My only memory is that he was reassuring me that he loved me and that he was going to take care of me…that I was safe. He attached a leash to the collar…I remember it being thin black leather with sparkles…clear stones maybe. It is a blur because he then told me that when I wear the collar I had to sit on the floor. I cried. Again. He hugged me and then lowered me to the ground. That’s when I fell apart. I sat on the floor, curled up inside myself, and buried my face into my arms on the couch now above me. I was being asked what I was feeling from across the room. I was being asked to put words to my feelings and emotion, but I couldn’t. I was overwhelmed. I was someone different. I was someone that I didn’t know. I have met her before, a long time ago but I have fought to be strong since that time. The submissive that was in control of herself. Unbreakable. There I sat, crying and broken. It wasn’t until I was riding home hours later that I was able to comprehend my feelings in that moment. It was me recognizing that I was, in fact, under his control at that moment. No more arguing. No more holding onto the anger that had me fired up earlier. I had fully submitted myself to him. I was his. Everything changed in an instant, with a small piece of leather and a shiny buckle. It was humbling and overwhelming.

My breathing slowly calmed, and I was able to slowly grasp time and place again. I felt his hand on my back, reassuring me that everything was going to be ok. He helped me stand on my shaking legs and he hugged me, further reassurance that I was safe. Then…a blindfold. OMG. WTF. Just seeing it in his hand…I vaguely remember hearing him say that I needed to wear it. I was petrified. Panic again…I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking…crying…I didn’t understand why that was needed. He held me…consoled me…then as I calmed, I knew it wasn’t negotiable. I was going to be wearing that blindfold. I agreed to let him place it over my eyes. He gently put it in place and then my world went dark. He whispered in my ear that I needed to take off my dress. Panic again…was this the third time? I always thought of myself as a strong person. Resilient. Fierce. Now, I felt weak and pathetic. We weren’t alone. The idea of him taking my dress from me now…making me walk across the room without it. It was a vulnerability and exposure I couldn’t mentally handle. He held me again…full panic…shaking head to toe and crying…again. He didn’t push. He knew it was too much. He said it could wait…and instead slowly walked me to the bench. He helped me to slowly kneel on the bench and instead of removing the dress, he lifted it, leaving me exposed as he walked about the room, preparing whatever it was that he had in store for me. It felt like an eternity. Kneeling in the dark…feeling exposed…feeling the eyes that may or may not have been on me. Listening to him bustling around the room arranging his tools for the evening. 

He slowly started touching me, gently. I felt my dress being raised higher, exposing my back. He was gentle and kind. I relaxed. He slowly put it up over my head and it was gone. The last bit of control that I had left was taken. I was there, in a friends’ living room, exposed and fully under his control. I don’t know how much time elapsed. I know that he was sensual, made me drift off to the light flogging and touching with various textures. I was relaxed. He roused me to make sure I was ready to escalate and I said yes. His tempo increased, and so did the power behind the strikes. I could feel the intensity increase, I could feel the pain but it wasn’t pain. It hurt so good. I couldn’t tell what implements he was using…I noticed a paddle of some sort, a flogger, and something that reminded me of the texture of a witches broom. It was stingy and I loved it. Then the flogger again…it hurt and it massaged and I loved every minute. I laughed and apparently was smiling…and then the intensity and pain increased bringing me close to that edge. Then he slowly calmed me, noting that I was bruised enough, an accidental small break to the skin that I didn’t even feel. It was time to bring me down. My breathing calmed. He helped me recover and then brought me slowly, on shaking legs, back to my place on the floor. I curled into him as he laid out a picnic or sorts on the floor in front of me. He truly thought of everything. I sat there, breasts exposed to the room, with my dress sitting in my lap. I no longer cared. I survived. It was safe. I made him proud. The collar that created stress and panic, now felt like it belonged. The feel of the leash hanging from it and resting on the skin between my breasts felt like a security blanket. When it was time to get dressed and go home, he removed that leather collar and instead of being relieved, I felt like something was missing. I was me again. The strong, resilient girl that I was earlier that day, but I know that I am so much more now. There was a lot to process. The ride home was wonderful, we talked about the evening and my thoughts about everything. The night once home was amazing as well…but I’ll keep that part to myself 

Who am I?

7/23/2018

Journaling is one of those things that are born as a resolution for me but I never have time to fulfill the plan. It’s a great therapeutic idea, in theory, but how will it help? I think it’s because I know I will never find the time to go back to read what I have written. I wrote it. I already know what it says! What is the point of writing it then?

Today, I have so many thoughts fluttering through my head. The past 5 weeks have been incredible. They have been filled with reflection and I now have so much clarity about myself and what I want and need in the future. I was faced with a challenge, told that I needed to define who I am while essentially questioning my strength. I had some who I thought were my friends turn on a dime and suggest that I am not the follower and submissive that I claim to be. I was broken and devastated. What they did not know was that I have so much more strength than they were aware of. I have been broken and devastated before, but after I process the situation and think over the events and discussions, I ALWAYS come out stronger and smarter than I was before. I refuse to be manipulated or made to feel as though I am less than I am. I stand with my head up high. I am fierce. I am kind. I am smart. I am a leader. I am a follower. I am loved. I am PERFECT. Anyone who finds their own strength in tearing me or anyone else down is weak and foolish for thinking that it will be tolerated. 

The profound moment I had was the self-realization that I can be every bit as driven and strong while being a true partner and follower in a D/s relationship. I have a timid personality that I use humor and overall silliness to mask when I feel nervous. I am a bottom when I play because I have been forced to live a dominant vanilla life and need to submit that control to my trusted Dominant, which is why I prefer to be a submissive as a role and quite possibly a slave as the relationship progresses. I am a very strong follower who has strong opinions and isn’t afraid to share them but who also trusts her Dominant to listen and consider her concerns while he makes his decision. I have also thought good and long about what I need as a submissive/follower. I need a Dominant/Leader who does not try to control me by making me feel small in order to make himself feel bigger and stronger. I do not have an interest in building inflated egos. I need a confident leader who is not intimidated by my strength, one who sees the possibilities and encourages my strong, independent thinking and personal growth. A good Dominant is not one who rules by intimidation and threats of punishment. A good Dominant is one who can inspire his/her submissive by empowering them to be the best they can be without making them feel broken in the process. Anyone can learn to be a top, to use implements to cause pain. I cannot respect bullies. The true Dominant to me is the one who can lead their follower because they have connected and have a mutual trust in each other.

In the end, I am a true believer that everything happens for a reason. The good things are gifts. The bad things become life lessons that make me who I am and create additional strength and clarity. I wouldn’t change a thing. I am in love with an incredibly giving and strong Dominant, who has my health, happiness and strength as priorities for my role; he has earned my Respect and I will follow him anywhere he leads me. I am happy. I am strong. I am loved. What else is there?