Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

The Wrong Kind of Right

Sir’s surgery went well.  He seemed to be feeling okay when we got home. I talked with him during dinner about sleeping downstairs on the couch so he could stretch out on the bed, but he assured me that he was fine. After dinner he went upstairs to rest and my mother-in-law and I wrangled children until bedtime. This included a rather pathetic (and I’m sure humorous) attempt at the two of us playing a Wii game with my 4 year-old laughing at our repeated failures. The things we do for our children.

During a spirited game of Trouble a while later I received a text message:

You will sleep on the floor of my bedroom, after performing for me.

I responded with a ‘More than happy to Sir,’ and tried to remain calm as I lost miserably to that same 4 year-old. To say I was excited would be an understatement. After my post on missing the floor and some of the control aspects that came with it, I have continued to reflect on my goals for our continued D/s. This step was huge for him and I was positively gleeful.

As I closed up the downstairs for the night I grabbed an extra comforter for padding, checked all the doors were locked, and headed upstairs. The kids had gone to bed without much fuss. Having Grandma here to help makes a big difference. The dog had already claimed her space near Sir’s closet. She watched me lay out the comforter on the floor on Sir’s side of the bed, then curled up on her own blanket, and was snoring before I turned out the light.

Sir was already in bed, but put his computer away and took his pain meds to help him sleep. He walked around to where I was kneeling on my pallet. Grabbing my hair he thanked me for being such a help today. He appreciated my care and dealing with kids. Releasing me, he told me to lay down. The side light was turned off and he was snoring in almost no time.

I’ll admit I was a little disappointed not to have been able to ‘perform’ in whatever capacity he had intended. But, considering his day, I knew he must have been exhausted. I couldn’t blame him. I lay down on the blanket and tried to sleep.

And tried…and tried…and failed.

First, and probably foremost, the floor was exceedingly uncomfortable. I know you’re thinking, ‘Duh Rye, what did you expect?’. But I was honestly surprised. Our other home had incredibly comfortable floors. And I can’t believe that it was made all that different simply by the carpet pad and carpet. The other possibility is that the comforter I chose for padding was bad. Previously, I think I had used one of our thicker duvets, which probably would have provided more of a barrier between me and the hardwood.

No matter which way I turned I couldn’t get comfortable. My hips hurt when I lay on my side. My back ached when I tried to lay on my back. I tried to think of it as hurting for him, but that didn’t seem to make any difference.

Then, of course, there was everything going on in my head. Everything that needs to get done today and how crazy our schedule it. I am taking one child to school this morning. The toddler has a doctor appointment, so I will come back and get him for that. Then he will get dropped off at school and I will go to work. Then Grandma is picking them up from school and taking them to her house for the weekend. When I get off work I am coming home to check on Sir and then driving to my parents house for one night, maybe two, to help them move. And my over-active worry brain wanted to have every second of that mess planned out before it let me sleep.

Finally, I realized that while I could hardly hush my brain, I could attempt to make myself more comfortable. It would just require me to do something I really didn’t want to do. I had to wake up Sir. It took me probably whispering his name five or ten times before I raised my voice enough to rouse him. I asked if I could please crawl into his bed with him. He shifted over and I climbed up. Curling his arm around my stomach he pulled me into him and began snoring again. I was glad I hadn’t woken him for too long.

So, now comfortable, I focused on trying to quiet my maniacal brain. However, now I had something else to chew on. After writing and talking about wanting more control and how much I had missed sleeping on the floor for him, I couldn’t even make it through one night. Laying awake for five hours on the floor didn’t count. All I have talked about with him in regards to our D/s was how much more control I craved. More restriction, more oversight. And the first time he offers me a carrot I spit it back out at him.

I am just bummed that it didn’t go better. If could’ve slept and showed him how much I appreciated his gesture maybe it could become a more regular occurrence. And I don’t think that this necessarily negates that option, but I know he will think hard before doing it again. The idea of me not sleeping, even in my happy place, isn’t pleasant for him. In order to keep his house moving and everyone happy, I need sleep. He knows this. Hopefully next time I will remember to try another mat and hopefully that will change the comfort level enough to fall asleep. Not having such a crazy day before and further hectic day ahead may make a difference as well. Though my brain is not one for being predictable; even for me.

I laid in his bed for another half hour or so before just getting up. I’m currently writing this from the couch downstairs. I may try to get some more sleep down here, but most likely will try and clean the kitchen or something else productive. When life gives you lemons and all that.

Positive Vibes

This weekend was spent preparing for and hosting a two year old’s birthday party. And I do believe that it all went well. Lots of smiling faces and the kid got a pretty good haul. Maybe not the ideal weekend with no children and lots of moans and screams, but it could have been much worse.

The pinata in its un-decorated, cardboard stage.Friday night, rather than working on the erotic story that I had in my head all day while I was the office, I turned into the crafty mom. Sir and I had talked about what a two year-old would really like for a party. Whacking something with a stick until candy falls out seemed the obvious choice. And, because I am my father’s daughter, I decided to make the pinata rather than buy it. It wasn’t too hard, actually. I was pretty happy with it. Not surprisingly, we still have a lot of cardboard boxes and painters tape laying around for just such an occasion.

The pinata all decorated in rainbow pride.Then Saturday was all about party prep. Luckily we had another set of hands as my mother-in-law came to help. A mass of divide and conquer to get all the groceries and cleaning done. It felt like a very productive day. Though I was bummed that I didn’t get a post up. I did get my Sinful Sunday post ready to go and the pinata was decorated. As I decided that my son wouldn’t really care what it looked like I went through my surplus craft supplies. I was happy with my first attempt.

The pinata, post whackingAnd Sunday the party turned out wonderfully. We had great weather and the food was good. The poor birthday boy is working on his two-year molars and had a fever for most of the day. But some pain medication and a lot of people willing to cuddle with him helped. And, not surprisingly, when the opportunity arose to destroy my craft project, he felt just fine. His big brother, my brother, and our cousin had to help him, but annihilation was soon achieved.

And because I am a smart mom, I didn’t buy a lot of candy that Sir and I would eventually have to eat. Instead, I just used packs of fruit snacks that my children already fight over and Sir bought one bag of suckers. Family members were encouraged to fill their pockets before they went home. So we actually don’t have too many left. All in all, it was a good weekend. After everyone packed up and left the entire family (dog and all) crashed on the couch. A quick nap and some cartoons helped.

Not a terribly kinky weekend. Though one of my birthday presents arrived early and Sir had me wear it for a few hours yesterday during the party. Because he never makes me feel vanilla for too long 🙂

Those Baby Blues

Our baby in the bathroom.
After he recently attempted to ‘decorate’ our bathroom with blue fingerpaint soap.

Our ‘baby’ turns 2 today. I remember going to the hospital to have him like it was yesterday. They were going to send us home. My contractions had stopped. Sir had called everyone to say ‘false alarm’ and tell them to turn around. And the doctor said no. After some less than sexy fisting, he determined that I had dilated more. So they decided to keep me. I wasn’t leaving that hospital without a baby. And we didn’t.

Now he’s a giant happy toddler who has perfected the act of pestering his older brother. Sir and I were both the eldest sibling in our families and we are pretty sure younger siblings get special classes. You must get pulled out of daycare or play group and trained on how to be as annoying as possible. With this is mind, our youngest paid very close attention to that lecture. I guess it’s a good skill to have. Any brats out there who want to come have a first hand lesson, let me know.

But, as independent as he is, he still requires pretty much constant supervision. So, any type of kink during the day is restricted unless he is napping or down for the night. Maybe I’ve just blocked it out, but I don’t remember our oldest getting into quite as much as this age. Part of it is that this one isn’t all about technology. He loves to be outside. Which is good in an exercise and general health way. But when he’s outside for five minutes and he gets covered in mud and throwing rocks at the side of the house it’s less good. At least he sleeps deeply so I can be loud during sex and not worry about waking him.

Admittedly, his birthday has me thinking about another baby. And as much as my hormones keep tugging, I just don’t think it’s right for us. Sir and I have always talked about three kids, but things change. Financially, we can do more for two without spreading ourselves too thin. Sports, activities, and travelling get expensive fast. And wanting to show your children the world means budgeting a lot.

However, there is another reason why I think we are done reproducing. And while it sounds selfish, I am perfectly okay with it. Sir and I want time. Even now, but more so as they get old, kids require time. Sport’s practices and games, recitals, play dates. Helping with homework and science fair projects all take time. And while I am more than happy to do all of those things (I know Sir is too), we both want time on our own. We want time to enjoy our own personal pursuits as well as time together.

We don’t want to feel guilty about spending several days at a kinky sex camp, or vacationing with another couple we want to play with. Taking a weekend and spending that money cannot be a once in a decade activity. Our kids are important to us and we love them very much, but when they grow up they will leave. Sir and I don’t want to wait until then to enjoy kink and what we can share together.

So I will probably shed a tear today  as my baby is growing up. We won’t have anymore uses for our crib or the few pieces of baby clothes I kept, ‘just in case’. Our family is wonderfully complete with four. Not including however many dogs I can talk Sir into letting me have (obviously).


*For those curious about the photo. Yes, the white tile and the toilet are still blue. When we eventually get around to re-doing this bathroom, it will have a Teflon coating for easier cleaning.


A new friend on Fetlife asked me about balancing my submission with young children. They then commented that they found the blog, but considering how bad it was yesterday I had to laugh. I don’t balance my submission and my kids. They laugh at me as they control my day more than Sir ever has (or wants to). Currently I spend my day making snacks, washing clothes, and trying to keep them from injury. My 21mo thinks that climbing on furniture and opening every cabinet in my new kitchen is a fun afternoon. The dog and I just sigh as their toys litter the floor around us.

But that is just the daytime ‘routine’, if you can call that hectic mess a routine. Then Sir gets home from work and everything shifts. I try to have dinner underway, if not finished, by the time he arrives. But, if the kids feel the need to push my patience, I can be an emotional mess when he walks in the door. Then he thinks that I have had a bad day (when it may have only been twenty minutes) and doesn’t want to hold me to our rules to give me a break. Which then puts me in a worse mood as I feel like a crappy sub and mom for not being able to reign them in and keep it together. I want him to hold me to those high standards; nothing makes me feel weaker than having him have to change his expectations because of my mood.

So balance is definitely still a struggle. I am hopeful that once the summer program starts at the end of May and they are running around with other kids all day that things will improve. Being able to get back to my work will be amazing. Feeling at least somewhat productive in my professional life will certainly help to ground me in other life areas. But I guess I am fighting the change in routine as much as they are.

Hopefully balance will be an attainable goal sooner rather than later, but right now the submission is out of wack. Being horny and ruled by your kids is not the happiest place to be.

Parenting Fail

So I’m technically middle aged now. *Shudder* My youngest cousin is six years younger that me, so I haven’t had to look for children’s toys for a long time. And then I had to do a silly thing like have kids. Now we are up to our ears in bright colored plastic and demands for items that make my ears bleed.

But somehow, as a child, I seemed to miss all the suggestive pieces and parts of toys. Maybe it’s just been since I found my kinky side, but so many things seem to have a multi-use option that I never saw before.

I get rid of the packaging on my kids toys, because my toddler would attempt to eat them if I don’t. So I couldn’t get any pictures of the hilarious statements on some of them. But I did find some great pieces from Ellen that show how questionable some toys can be.

I am pretty sure my cousin had that Tarzan. And I think maybe I did get the joke, even though I was only 12 at the time. Maybe I am not as innocent as I consider myself.

And I think I would love to give several people one of those batman squirt guns. I think my conservative family Christmas would never be the same. Probably because I wouldn’t be invited anymore.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Basket of Options

Basket of kid-friendly snacks

Parenting has several similarities to BDSM. Control, punishment, and reward are constant factors. While I still always feel like a submissive, I have to play the dominant when it comes to dealing with the kids. And while the dog can give me her puppy eyes and talk me into anything, the children have no such luck. I would be a hard-ass of a dom when it comes to rules. I’m not a dom though, luckily for them, and I try to be a good mom.

So pictured above is our snack basket. My four year old is pretty picky, and I anything I can do to make sure he gets enough to eat I’ll do. So I created this snack basket when he was three and the 18 month old picked up on it quickly as well. It’s on the bottom shelf of our kitchen island, so both boys can reach it. And they can have anything out of the basket at just about any time of the day (no fruit snacks for breakfast, trust me, they’ve asked). Pretty much everything is fruit centered, there are applesauce squeezes, fruit snacks, or granola. It’s all low sugar and easy finger food. I have fresh fruit too, but they have to ask for that as it can be messy. I don’t mind them grabbing a healthy snack, and it keeps me from having to argue about sugary snacks. Give them two healthy options and they are happy to ignore the unhealthy one they cannot see (I may have a hidden stash of pop tarts for when I’ve had a bad day).

And I think if I were ever to become a dominant, I would run my submissives the same way. Maybe even have a toy basket. Giving a sub two good options empowers them to make decisions without them worrying about making the wrong one. It’s like when Sir gives me the order to choose which implement to be spanked with. No matter if I chose the belt or one of his pretty paddles, he can’t lose. Either way I feel like I pleased him. Just like what I try and do with the kids, no matter what they pull out of the basket, it’s a good decision. I would probably run my subs/slaves the same way. Options for meals, their daily activities, maybe even their punishments. Think of the mind fuck that would be choosing between two equally bad punishments. There is probably a good reason I’m not a dom, I’d be ruthless.

On second thought, I would probably treat my subs like I treat my dog. I would spoil them and they would get away with everything.


I mean, how can you say no to that face?

Children always win

Have you ever tried to give a blowjob first thing in the morning? Morning wood is a tricky thing. Especially when two toddlers are screaming and/or knocking on your door. There is almost a feeling of determination that takes over. One of the few times (I assume) that you really just want to spite your children. That somehow making him come will make them go back to sleep, or behave that day. I don’t know.

In any case, let’s say that it rarely works that way. Usually one of us cracks and we get up to get the screaming child. Or the toddler barges in and we scramble to cover up.

Because, dear parents, children always win. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try again tomorrow.


Version 2

I will admit that I struggled with windows. And I know that even this isn’t technically a window. But it’s glass, and you can see through it, so I’m counting it.

I just loved how interested this otter was in my son. He kept coming back around to see if the green kid was still there. Our local zoo does a Boo at the Zoo event and he was dressed as Frankenstein (I don’t dress him like this year round, I promise).

And you can see my reflection in the glass too. In a completely non-sexy, just being a mom kind of way.

See others’ more sexy attempts at windows this week by clicking the lips below.

Sinful Sunday


Parenting is one constant struggle for morale. Last night I made a quiche for dinner. Bacon, mushroom and cheddar. Sir liked it. He wasn’t feeling well so I wanted to give him something comforting. But the kids weren’t having any of it. The toddler pretended to gag until I had to hum to drown him out. And the baby just screamed until we got up from the table. It was the simultaneously longest and shortest dinner we’ve had in a long time. Talk about needing a drink.

What is it about small children that know exactly what buttons to push? I pick them up from daycare and I’m feeling great. I usually get a lot of work done during the day and I leave to get them feeling refreshed. Then on the drive home the baby screams and the toddler talks about all the snacks he will have as soon as we walk in the door. And he means it. As soon as we walk in the door he makes requests for a variety of foods that aren’t what I’m making for dinner.

It’s like the fight to get ready for bed or trying to get them to behave when we go out to eat with family. Is it wrong that part of me can’t wait until they grow up and want nothing to do with me. Until, of course, they hug me and call me mom. That tends to tide me over until the screaming starts again. So, if I’m lucky, a solid ten minutes.

Ode to a comfy chair

My desk chair has died. I won’t lie. I was crushed for the purely selfish reason that I had lost my relaxation chair. It was padded and it leaned back. It was wonderful for procrastinating working long hours. And now I have to use one of the dining chairs until we sort something else. Sir thinks he can fix it, and it would be a lot cheaper to do so rather than buy a new one. But, no offense to him, I have no idea when that will happen. So I better get used to this replacement. Maybe it will encourage me to finish my work quickly and get my ass up an moving.

And realistically, today is a good day for that motivation. I have paid work that needs to get done before I get too wrapped up in the holidays (get it…wrapped). The boys are going to my mother-in-laws for the weekend. She has always been really helpful in giving Sir and I a break. And the kids love staying with her. So I have to pack up some clothes for them.

Sir and I are getting a date night tonight. I am trying not to put too many expectations on the evening though. Tomorrow we are heading to the new house to work so we are going to enjoy an evening off. I plan on drinking several ciders. Needless to say, I’m quite excited.

But my ass is already starting to hurt, so I better get down to work so I can stand up sooner. Wish my poor butt luck.