Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Sir’s First Task: The Basement Part II

Sewing desk before cleaning
Basement Pre-Clean 3

Waking up on Saturday morning I was more motivated than I had been in a very long time. After reviewing the photos I sent, Sir had given me my marching orders. I needed to clear my sewing table so that I could realistically use my sewing machine. Hopefully that would encourage me to find more time to get down there and use my private space to refresh. Also, as the boys get older and search out their own private time, I could use it more regularly. I also needed to clear the catch all table so that I could use it for sewing prep and other creative projects.

So with coffee in hand and a background noise of The Great British Baking Show on my laptop I began to clean. I decided to focus on the black table first. It was where I had hoped to set up my laptop when I was down there, and have all my stationary materials. I am a big fan of handwritten notes and I have a large stash of postcards that I enjoy sending to family and friends. They are just a nice way of letting someone know you are thinking of them. And I love getting mail.

Cleaned stationary desk
Basement Clean – Stationary Desk

Sorting through all the paperwork took the most time. I have a pretty good organization system for our receipts and important papers, but when I don’t have time to file everything, it gets thrown in a pile to be sorted later. Later had finally come. Luckily, mixed in with all the important bills were lots of items that could be recycled. And once I got going, sorting out the important bits and the surplus paper went quickly. Trying to jam them into my file cabinet took a little time, but I got there.

Cleaned sewing table
Basement Clean – Sewing Table

Separating items into what I used for stationary and what I used for sewing helped me give the tables different uses. And my collection of little boxes were perfect for all my thread and sewing trims. I was pretty happy with the way both spaces turned out and I really hoped Sir was too.

I sent him photos as well as the ‘after’ photos I posted on twitter. I was so relieved when he wrote back that he was impressed. I even got a ‘good girl’. It was the biggest self-confidence boost I’ve had in a long time. I was practically gooey just hearing that he was proud of me. Sometimes I worry that I have daddy or general parenting issues because of how much I want someone to be proud of me. It’s the nicest compliment that I can ever receive.

All this meant that I went to the office yesterday feeling good, which hasn’t happened in awhile. It’s amazing how my productivity during the weekend and my interactions with Sir can affect my entire week.

Sir has given me the week. I am hoping to use my sewing space a few times and enjoy my hard work. Then we’ll see what he wants me to tackle next. There is a lot down there that doesn’t belong to me. And even more that needs sorted and sold. So I hoping that this project may force the issue on a few things. Or, if nothing else, get me to box things up and store them on the other side of the basement. Keeping my office mine.

So I am sure there will be more updates as this task continues. And I’m sure I will write more as my submission is allowed to grow. This is the most submissive (and likewise best) I have felt in a very long time. I hope Sir allows me to continue to serve in any way he sees fit.

cleaned sewing table and stationary table

 

Sir’s First Task: The Basement Part I

I have an IUD. I’ve had it since the end of 2014 and subsequently have not had a period since around the middle of 2015. Which sounds amazing, and does have certain perks, i.e. I’ve saved a lot of money on tampons. But even though I don’t have the cramping, I still have the emotional drop and mood swings. It makes my depression medication work extra hard to get me through the day and often fails miserably. And, considering the day to day issues I’ve been having with my boss at work, I was dreading this month’s drop.

A blue and white baby quilt.
A baby quilt I made in 2014.

I also love to sew. Since moving about a year and half ago I’ve had my sewing machine set up, but I’m not sure I’ve had it on more than a handful of times. My grand designs of having several quilts ready to go to give as gifts for Christmas last year fizzled quickly. And between all the job, kid, and husband stress over the last year my space has been largely ignored. But making things is a huge confidence boost for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love to write, but having something tactile in my hand is a different productive feeling. I’m sure if I ever had a book published it would feel the same. Something I made. Even better is when it’s appreciated and/or used by someone. I think that pulls back to my submission and caring for others.

All that plot exposition was all to prep you for my first task from my Sir. We were talking about my low mood and I mentioned sewing being a good outlet for that. He had asked about it and all I could really come up with was that my creative space in the basement had become a catch-all for various things.

The basement from the bottom of the stairs
Basement Pre-Clean 1

I dramatized it a bit about how bad it was, but I’m sure in my head it was that bad and that’s why I wasn’t motivated to clean it up. He told me to send him pictures when I got home from work on Friday; that maybe this would be a good project for me.

I was honestly surprised at how good I felt just thinking about a task. It had been so long since I’d even been presented with the possibility. Even through my emotional fog, I felt motivated to try and get back to something that made me happy. When I got home I immediately went to downstairs to take photos. I’ll admit I tried to get angles that would show the worst of the piles.

Basement mess from the couch
Basement Pre-Clean 2

It may not have been as bad as I originally described to him, but it wasn’t great. I had cleaned off the couch the week before when we had to take the kids down for a tornado warning. I think the angle from the couch is what was sticking in my head when we were talking. I think it’s just the piles that threw me off. And the amount of stuff that isn’t actually mine. Everything from records that were left in the house when we moved in to clothes belonging to my mother. My creative space had been overrun by things that needed sorted and/or sold. But, without this motivation it would probably continue sitting like this until closer to Christmas when I need to wrap presents. Though that would be more of wiping my arm across the table so I have a flat space to work. This was going to be a much larger task.

My Protector

Why are you naked?

Are you complaining?

No, of course not. I just thought you said you were heading upstairs to get dressed. He walked over to brush my bare stomach. Grabbing our son’s school folder, he walked back over the counter.

I think I need to change to a white bra and I know I have a clean one down on the drying rack. I walked into the laundry room and chose one of the lacy white bras that I washed earlier that day. What are you doing? 

I’m just finishing up the paperwork for parent-teacher conferences. Did you decide where you want to go for dinner?

No….I thought you said you were doing paperwork. School folder abandoned, he was now back at my side rubbing my nipple piercings.

Wanna play? Of course, he already knew the answer, but I put on the innocent smile anyway. I started to squirm a bit away from him and he reached around to slap my ass. I giggled through a ‘No’ and started laughing. He reached for me again, but we were both stopped in our tracks by the barking.

Our dog, a ten year-old boxer rescue, is a very sweet thing. She is a daddy’s girl and I’ve often said that she would turn on me and the kids in an instant for him. However, his recent action would prove  me wrong. Her barking increased until he stepped away from me. As soon as there was space she got in-between us and turned to him. She continued barking as she sat on my feet.

I couldn’t stop laughing. Apparently her face was priceless as she stood her ground to ‘protect’ me. Even when he tried to assure her that it was okay, she refused to move. I bent down to tell her that I was okay. Even rubbing her belly and scratching her ears she kept her butt on my foot and wouldn’t let him get close.

It was the sweetest thing. And she eventually did forgive him his perceived abusive transgression. I think she’s been a little bit more attentive to me though. I would’ve have thought that in all our previous BDSM fun that she would have witnessed him hitting me before. So I don’t know if it was just context, or because I said ‘No’.

In any case, it was really funny. After we both realized that we had not emotionally scarred our dog, of course. I was just so impressed at her immediate reaction and the way she came to my aid; even if it wasn’t necessary. I’ll just have to remember never to take her to any play parties or the poor thing would have a conniption.

Shock and Awe

“You seem much calmer lately.”

“Honestly, I just don’t care anymore.”

I think my answer shocked us both, but I walked away before my mother-in-law could comment further.

I wasn’t shocked that I said it to her. She and I have always been direct with one another and I rarely hold back with her. It was more that what I had just shared was actually true.

Obviously, I want my children to be safe and happy, they need to have food and warm clothes. But they do. They have everything they need and rarely want for anything (except Legos and candy).

Outside my children, however, I am running on emotional empty. My new job is fine, except for my Devil wears Prada boss. My sex life is non-existent except for masturbation videos occasionally shared with my transcontinental lover. And our bank account dwindles while my husband talks about numerous things we can’t afford that he still wants.

I think my current solution seems to be to just emotionally shut down. I’m not saying that this is a good plan. In fact, it’s probably the worst plan, but I’m out of ideas. My doctor has increased my meds, but it will be a few weeks until I notice a difference. Everything I try to reach to make my husband and/or boss happy flies back in my face. So sex and job satisfaction have just disappeared from my to do list. I can function without them; other people do it all the time.

So for right now I’ll just walk around and pick up toys and ignore my bosses glares. I’ll try to lose too much empathy as I continue to shield myself from whatever this is. I just feel bad about complaining, so I don’t. We haven’t experienced a hurricane in Ohio and we still have our health insurance. It could be so much worse and me not having sex for months just doesn’t seem to make the cut. But I still feel the lowest I’ve ever been, and that’s not a pleasant thing for me.

On the positive side, I can still shock my mother-in-law.

The Largest

I really don’t want to admit this to myself. So I’m going to write it here so I can’t escape this truth. I currently weigh the most I have ever weighed. At this moment I weigh in at 207lbs/93.89kg. That’s more than when I was pregnant with either of my kids. Which sounds bad, I know, but I was sick for most of both pregnancies, so they don’t really count. I actually lost weight with my second one. And I was back to my pre-baby weight before I even left the hospital either time. It sounds nice, but it was actually horrible.

Anyway, the concern is that I’m overweight now.

A lot of it is residual stress. The old job got me about twenty of these pounds in the last year. Then lack of good sleep, stress with money, and lack of sex aren’t helping either. But more than that, I’m just not taking good care of myself. I’m not eating well. And my exercise regimes have disappeared. My flexibility and endurance have worsened as well. I’m just turning into a blob.

And that’s just not good enough.

I mean, how can I really enjoy sex if I’m only focusing on how unhappy my body makes me? And, in a much less selfish way, I have two kids to watch grow up. I have to get back into shape and start making better food choices. I bought my wonder woman water bottle and have been trying to drink more water to stay hydrated (ignore the fact that I left it at home yesterday). But, obviously water isn’t enough on it’s own.

Fern (@Ferns_) is doing an #fwocrew workout tracking week this week. My goal is three. And I’ve only got until Sunday to fit them in. It sounds easy, and it probably should be, but I have a feeling it’s going to be tough to set aside the time. Usually I have some time in the mornings. The boys are often up though, and constantly in need of something (milk, apple, cartoons). It’s difficult to get into a good rhythm when you are constantly being interrupted.

So I have a lot of mini-goals as I try to tackle this weight. But until I can get the water and exercise into a more consistent pattern I don’t want to add too much more. Eventually I want to get back to calorie counting and maybe look at a step counter. Since my last one broke a replacement hasn’t been in the cards. That may end up on the Christmas list.

I just can’t keep this slow creep upwards in weight. My clothes are getting a bit too tight for comfort and my lack of energy is really getting to me. And, as much as I would love to blame my husband’s low sex drive solely on him; it’s not like I’ve been making a good effort either. I don’t expect that losing twenty pounds will suddenly make him want to sleep with me again. But taking care of myself is my best shot to stay in a good place for him.

The next few months will be a bit rough. But I need to do this for me as much as for my family, Dom, lover, and all those who care about me. I deserve to be healthy; even if I have to be my own worst enemy to do it.*

*There is nothing wrong with being healthy. I don’t mean to make it sound like it’s some great hardship. I just have an unnatural love of mayonnaise, ranch dressing, and fried foods. It’s more learning how to deny myself, which, as a self-spoiled little, it no easy task.

Birthday Blues

I’m 32. I know, that’s not really that old, but I am feeling my age today. Mostly the adult part.

I was really hurt yesterday that my husband didn’t say ‘happy birthday’ in the morning. He didn’t say it when we messaged back and forth while I was work. He didn’t say it until I had gone up to pout in our room when I got home from work. I know, it makes me sound like a four year old, but I don’t care. No one at my office knew it was my birthday, and I wasn’t going to shout it from the rooftops. So as far as work was concerned it was just another day.

And I should have been okay with that. I don’t really like attention from people I don’t know. Private attention from Sir, a lover, or a friend is fine, but I don’t like being a public spectacle. However, as the day wore on, I could feel myself starting to dip. It may have just been that the husband remained silent, but by the time I got home I was a mess. I don’t know why it affected me so much.

I think I had just hoped for a bit more attention at home. The boys had made me a card and my husband had baked a cake on Sunday. It was lovely, and the gifts they bought were very nice. Maybe I just needed a hug.

But, now I am 32. Fretting about things I cannot change won’t help me move forward. And it’s not like I had a terrible birthday. Lovely people wished me a happy day and the fact that they thought of me was special. Now to finish out these last few weeks at my job and start at a place where I’m not self-conscious sharing my birthday with my co-workers.

The Boss Dom

Since discovering my submissive side, I find that I look at nearly all social interactions with a D/s filter. Often this ends up being creepy as I deal with my kids’ doctors and/or family members. But, sometimes it works so perfectly that I can’t let it go. Most recently this has been my relationship with my boss.

She is a slender, attractive, no nonsense leader who is very set in her ways. She expects perfection and sighs heavily at ineptitude. In many senses, we were perfect for one another.

However, there are a few things that I’ve learned about leadership styles and what I respond to in a boss and/or a dom. Communication is huge. Understanding what is expected of me is vital. If I don’t understand what my boss dom wants then my uncertainty takes over. I question tasks and jobs that I was once comfortable with. My self-worth plummets as I scramble to find purpose. I find I also need at least occasional positive reinforcement. It doesn’t have to be all the time, but even a kind word now and then goes a long way. These moments get me through my anxious periods.

This translates pretty directly for me from a dominant to a boss. My current supervisor only communicates through email. Her office is less than five feet from my desk. But, if I have a question or need something, the only response I get is “can you put it in an email?”. And then, when I do email, it takes an eternity to hear back. It is annoying to put it mildly. All I need sometimes is five minutes, or less, to explain a situation and get an answer. I understand when specific case questions come up. These require greater review and more time to consider all the facts. But procedural questions should be consistent from case to case. And there is something about her actually listening to me with interest and respect that is appreciated, even if she doesn’t know the answer right away.

The idea of positive reinforcement would also be nice. Responses to my email questions, when I do eventually get them, are usually one sentence. Occasionally even just a word or phrase. It’s so disheartening to write several paragraphs of explanation to only receive a phrase response. The only other communications I get are emails when I do something wrong. Again, usually a phrase. And there is something in my brain that always reads those emails in a yelling, sarcastic, disappointed tone. I think if all I ever received from my dom were disappointed emails my self-esteem would evaporate. Like getting a text after a blow job that just said, ‘meh’.

So, my boss dom and I are going to part ways. I have been offered a job with a local college. It’s slightly less money, but the growth potential is much higher. And, I actually feel like I fit with this office. Everyone seems to be very positive about the work they do and their support of one another. When I met with the other staff in the office they all commented on the supervisor’s leadership skills. And something happened in my interview that I had never had happen before. One of the questions they asked was, “Our office can become stressful at times. What do you do for self-care?”. I have never had an employer give a crap about my stress level. But they were genuinely interested in my activities and methods to combat stress. It was so refreshing.

This month of transition will be a little tough. But I do believe that my relationship with my new boss will be much healthier and more positive for me. Maybe I don’t need a boss dom anymore and I can just let my dom do what he does best.

Update

I really wanted to write. I have missed this space and all the supportive, wonderful people who come and read. I have missed the inspiration to write about sex I’ve had and fantasies for the future. Writing about BDSM and how, even though dynamics have changed, it’s a huge part of my life. But life happens.

Instead I cried at my computer to my Dom. He patiently listened and wrote back in his supportive way. He told me I wasn’t a failure and I balled. He told me he cared about me and I balled. It was largely me crying and him telling me that it was going to be alright.

Sadly, not that inspiring. But I’m getting there. This is the first time in awhile I’ve really been pulled to write. I miss what this blog gives me.

So hopefully this is my comeback. After two months off I need to get my sexy juices flowing again (in more ways than one). Thank you for being patient while I work through the random shit that is my vanilla life. But I don’t think that I want to be away anymore. No matter what is going on I need this safe space to just be me.

Hope you’ll all stick with me. 🙂

Celibacy Sucks

My husband and I haven’t had sex in weeks. He fingered me a few weeks ago. I gave him a blow job and a hand job last weekend. Yesterday he rubbed my thigh. This is the extent of the physical interaction we’ve had lately.

I’m trying to take a step back and keep perspective. Sex isn’t everything. He and I get along great and enjoy spending time together. I wish that was enough.

It’s not like this was a sudden thing. He has been losing interest in me sexually since I was pregnant with our second child. Ever since then he hasn’t really want to initiate sex. And now he says that it’s because I always seemed disappointed in sex. Like he was never good enough. But that’s an oversimplification. His desire of me began fading a long time ago. And his refusal to take responsibility for his part in this is probably what bothers me the most.

His ‘explanation’ makes my submission the root of the problem. But it’s not actually the issue. My submission merely explains my need for attention and my dislike of asking for sex. I don’t even feel like my personality has even changed, it only makes more sense to me. My sex drive has increased, but I’ve also tried really hard not to pressure him with that.

Obviously this is all from my perspective. But I feel like I have tried everything I can think of to make him more comfortable. I’ve worked to seduce him. I have purchased gifts, preformed acts of service, even worked to ignore all my needs to put his first. And I thought if I could just do that until he was out of his funk, that things would become better. But it hasn’t worked.

He’s still so distant from me and I’ve pushed down so much of myself. I tried to masturbate the other day and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t get turned on enough to get anywhere. It was soul-crushing.

Needless to say I don’t think celibacy is for me. Though I’m not sure I have much control over it.

****

I wrote the above yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon I went upstairs to try and masturbate. My husband came up and fucked me with a dildo while I rode the Doxy. It was amazing. It’s this type of thing that keeps me in constant confusion. But at the same time, if opposite day is going to work with my post drafts then prepare to be inundated.

Mother’s Day Oral

I got mother’s day oral last night. It sort of felt like a birthday blow job that wive’s who hate oral give their husband’s under duress. I hate to say that, but that’s really how it felt.

He used to love giving me oral. He would want to continue after all the nerves in my clit were screaming. I would roll away in a giddy puddle and he would almost look hurt that he had to stop. That is all gone.

And I hate that it bothers me. It was all I could think about and it kept me from even enjoying what was happening. It was the first time he had touched me in any sort of sexual way in weeks and all I could think about was that he was only doing it because it was Mother’s day.

My birthday is in August. Maybe I can sort my shit out by then.