I’ve been trying to force my writing all winter. But as I begin 2018 my struggle has increased. All the vanilla crap in my life has taken over all the fantasy writing so I’m looking for snuggles and presents rather than choking and forced orgasms. I keep trying to write though. I keep looking for inspiration to take over and words to flow. But they aren’t. My sexy story juices aren’t flowing. I keep looking at the Kink of the Week, Wicked Wednesday, and Masturbation Monday topics with nothing to show for it. Part of it is jealously that I’m not experiencing what everyone else is writing about, but that’s sort of a cop out. I mean, I love reading fantasy fiction and I’m not jealous of the orcs I don’t get to fight. But trying to write sexy when you’re stressed and depressed is a hard task.
The reality is that even masturbating is difficult. My various tumblr pages and videos can generally get me hot and bothered, but that’s generally as far as it goes. When I was home last week my husband and I were actually having sex. I know, it’s shocking. I think we had sex three afternoons in a row. Most of that was blow jobs, but at this point, I’ll count anything. But, as these encounters were in the afternoon and I’ve been back to work this week, the fun has ceased. So my mood has once again plummeted and I’m questioning everything…again.
It just feels so weird to want to write a story where a Dom takes his sub out for dinner and buys her something, just because, and then they come home and cuddle in front of a movie or an episode of Stranger Things. Even if some of you wouldn’t actually mind an evening like that, it doesn’t mean that you want to read about it. Somehow though, when I have even the base support and sexiness I find that it gives me the inspiration to write. I’m not sure why. It’s probably a confidence thing that I’m desired by someone and therefore the idea of writing a steamy threesome scene seems plausible. I don’t have to be the main character, or even a participant in all of my writings, but I do find it easier to make it believable if I can relate to someone in the story.
The sad part is, this post about not being able to write is longer than anything I’ve written all winter. I need to force myself to sit down and write everyday, but I certainly don’t want you to be forced to endure my ramblings. Eventually I may come around to something worth reading, or at least something that’s sexier than me being excited that I got a new razor.
Ok, the first truth isn’t that horrible. It’s just a truth. It’s about oral. I love giving oral sex. Sucking cock is one of my favorite things. Using my mouth to bring someone such pleasure is a true joy for me. One of the few things that gives me power that actually enjoy. I also loved the one time I was able to give oral sex to a woman. I can get into a zone where it’s calming. Just to sink into the other person’s pleasure. So erotic. I get turned on as I do it and when they cum I get the strongest sense of satisfaction.
Here’s that horrible part. It’s also about oral. I’m getting sick of it. I know, it’s hard for even me to accept. But I am. It’s just not fun.
I think it may because it’s all we do. We don’t have penetrative sex of any kind. Certainly no ‘All Anal November’ for me this year. We had sex the other day, in the middle of the afternoon. It was blissful. But it was no foreplay, no aftercare (though we aren’t D/s anymore), and I didn’t cum. He gave me oral for the first time in six months the other day. I’m not sure what caused the sudden change of heart toward my vagina, not that I’m complaining. But aside from these few breaks from the norm over the last few weeks, oral sex has been the limit of our intimacy.
As I previous stated, I love oral sex. But I’m getting to the point where I just need a break. I just groan when photo after photo comes up on my naughty tumblr. I can’t masturbate to it anymore. And whenever I see it in porn I tend to roll my eyes. Which just feels sad. I want to love it all the time. And it feels wrong that oral just doesn’t inspire me anymore.
Maybe I just want to be appreciated more. Maybe I just want a bit of a challenge. Maybe I just need to be fucked. Or more likely, a little from all three.
See other topics that people are musing over or who they consider their muse for this weeks Wicked Wednesday.
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.
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.
Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA. I honestly have a few different posts started and just need to find some quiet time to finish them.
Last night my mother called to tell me that a dog was hit in front of our farm house last night. Just like our dog that was hit five years ago. I tried my best to hold it together on the phone with her, but I collasped as soon as I hung up. It triggered everything with my PTSD. I haven’t had an episode like that in years. But I couldn’t stop shaking. I was really looking forward to a cider after dinner, but I couldn’t stomach it.
My husband was wonderful. He held me and let me cry. We curled up with the kids and watched a movie. It was nice to just be able to sit quietly. Though I’ll admit it was difficult to focus on much.
We have people coming over for dinner tonight, so not sure when I will get to write ‘for real’. Maybe the extra time will help me make sense of all my thoughts. Fingers crossed you won’t get another rambling mess of a post like this one. Anyone know with any type of mental illness knows that sometimes you just don’t have any control and you just have to ride the wave. I really wasn’t prepared for this wave, so we’ll see how it goes.
I’m trying to decide if I should start wearing another necklace to ‘replace’ my collar. Obviously it wouldn’t replace it; I’m not even sure it would being fill the hole I feel. But, it could help me to feel some sort of weight like I had with the collar.
The collar that my Sir gave me was a surgical steel chain that was quite heavy. I would play with it whenever I was trying to think. It was a comfort and a weight that stayed with me throughout the day. I would touch and think of him, and I would know that he was thinking of me. It reminded me that he cared for me.
Without that security blanket around my neck I have been struggling. I didn’t realize how closely tied it was to my self-confidence. I’ve just been surprised at how much I have been questioning my decisions lately.
Which leads me to the conclusion that another, purely ornamental, necklace really wouldn’t change much. I would still feel just as lost. Some silly charm or a string of fake pearls wouldn’t have the same meaning, no matter how much I would want it to. In fact, it may just highlight the fact that I don’t have a collar. It would merely re-enforce I’m not owned by anyone. That hurt isn’t going to go away just because my neck isn’t bare.
I think I am looking for whatever I need to do to get passed this. There are a lot of elements of a break up, but it quickly gets more complicated. We’re still married, we still love one another. That doesn’t change the fact that sometimes I want to scream and cry though. I don’t (or haven’t yet). There isn’t a clean break, so to speak, so it’s hard to process sometimes.
I think I want a new necklace to try and feel like I am fixing myself. Getting myself together and being the type of person who is strong enough to be someone’s sub again. Currently, I’m in such a weird head-space I shouldn’t be anyone’s sub. I don’t want to be a pity project or a burden for someone. Then I would feel even worse.
Eventually something that is meaningful, in one way or another, will come along. Maybe by then I’ll be at a place where the idea of replacing my collar won’t be so horrific. Then I’ll be strong enough to call a necklace and be okay with it.
Why do I set myself impossible tasks when I have the patience of a two year old?
This week has been an emotional sinkhole. The ground beneath me falling away and a constant drizzle of stress and pain.
My collar is off. My website should just be mom at this point. Or maybe submissive mom. No matter what, I’m still a submissive.
Husband and I are doing okay. Taking the collar off was rough. I held it together, barely. He was really cold about it though, and that hurt. He tried to cuddle after we got the boys to bed, but I just couldn’t. I needed to be left alone. It was my choice to take it off, but that didn’t change how much it hurt for me. I’ve had that collar on since before my youngest son was born. Nearly three years of it’s weight as a physical representation of my submission to him disappeared from my body. I knew it was going to hurt, but I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would hit.
Now, more than 24-hours later things have calmed. I don’t know how positive we both feel, but we’re pretending pretty well. He is trying to be more attentive and I appreciate that. We are both planning to talk more this weekend about where we stand. I love him and I know he loves me. But I’m not sure how we are going to compromise to meet each others’ needs.
I just hope he’s ready to fight for me. Lately it feels like he wants me to tell him to go so he doesn’t have to make the call. He said that he doesn’t think he was a good dominant because he doesn’t get off on extra responsibility. Honestly, I should have seen that. But he seems to be withdrawing from all responsibilities lately. And as much as I have needs that aren’t being met right now, our family needs to be the priority.
Despite all that, I’m trying my best to stay positive. We care about each other; that’s what matters. I may have to alter how I meet my need for submission, but that doesn’t mean that it has to ruin my marriage. I’ll find a way to still be me. To still be that collared mom, even if the collar is in a drawer right now.
“You didn’t want to get your clit pierced? Why did you put it on your 101 Things list?”
“Because you said you were going to order me to get it done.”
“Well, I guess you’re off the hook then.”
It’s conversations like this that crush me. What am I supposed to say to that? I wanted to be on the hook. That was the whole fucking point. I agreed to let him do what he wanted with my body; piercings were part of that.
This is why I think I need to take my collar off. I feel like I need to regain and recenter myself a bit. He knows how much I want to submit to him and I think that’s the problem. Like I need to make him earn my submission again, if he even wants it.
That’s the rub. He wants me to be happy, but he admits he cannot meet that need. And if everything else in our relationship were solid then I think I may be able to back away from my need to submit. But with everything else weighing me down, I need this type of release. I just don’t see how to make that work.
Where does that leave my submission in the possibly indefinite interim? I certainly wouldn’t be collared mom anymore (though it’s not like I’m really going to change the page or my twitter name). He’s not comfortable with me finding a local dom. He doesn’t want me to invested in a distance or online dominant either.
I may be ‘off the hook’, but still very much in the tank.
This has been a year of ups and downs (how generic is that?). I’m not really sure I’ve had a year with more dramatic highs and lows. It’s just odd how many personal goals I have achieved this year. I think they were surrounded by so many global lows that it’s hard to find them through the fog. Between Brexit and the clusterfuck that was the U.S. Presidential election, it’s been tough. Not to mention all the influential people that have passed away this year. It’s been a public year that I would love to leave behind, but a personal year that I wouldn’t mind repeating.
I started my own business. – It has always been a goal and last February I officially got my L.L.C. up and running. I haven’t become a worldwide sensation, but I have a few clients and some pretty business cards. Hopefully I can give it more time in the coming year, but it will probably never be a full-time thing, and that’s okay.
We moved into our house. – Although we bought it in 2015, we didn’t officially move in until May of this year. The kitchen remodel and refinishing the floors took several months, and it was great to move into finished product rather than a renovation. There are still projects to do, there always are, but we are finally settled. Moving from rental to rental was a stressful process, and the idea of not looking at a moving truck for a decade or two sounds downright blissful.
I went back to work. – Separate from the business, I went back to work. I had been employed as a consultant for a database company from home. But when the opportunity came up to get back into an office and get good insurance coverage for everyone, I jumped at it. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my old masturbation sessions with Jack in the afternoon, but getting out of the house has been good for me. I mean, I wear more than sweatpants now, so that’s something.
My sleeve tattoo is finally finished. – I need to get a good picture to show it off, but I’m beyond happy with it. The whole thing took about 18 months to complete. There were several months between some of my appointments due to various hangups for me and my artist. But early in December I was able to go for my last piece of lace and touch-ups. I’m sure I’ll have a few spots that I will go back and have darkened at some point. Right now though, I couldn’t be happier with what she was able to do with my design request.
And then there were the more kinky aspects of my year….
We opened our marriage. – After talking a lot about other partners and sexual experiences, my husband and I decided to open our marriage. Looking back, this has been a roller coaster of a decision. I had a not go good interaction with a local dom that made me take a huge step back and question everything. Luckily, I kept an open mind and learned from my mistakes. Finding Jack and Jill and visiting them this fall was an amazing experience. Hopefully we will be able to work out another visit (or twelve) this year.
I started identifying as Poly. – I think I can safely say that this is purely because of Jack. After my negative experience, I never really thought that I would find someone that I had a deep emotional connection with outside of my marriage. When we opened up, I was looking for a friend with benefits. Someone to joke around with and maybe exchange oral once and awhile. But he is so much more than I could have hoped for. Aside from sharing a birthday, he has become such a good friend and lover. I am so happy to call him secondary and I know that our relationship will do nothing but grow in the coming year. (Get it, I said coming. He appreciates me, don’t judge.)
I had sex with a woman. – I don’t really classify myself as bisexual. Women are beautiful and I appreciate their minds and bodies. I just don’t really have emotional connections with them like I do with men. The one woman I thought I loved broke my heart, so it’s not really anything I’ve looked for. Visiting California this fall was a wonderful chance to have my first threesome and experience a woman’s body. Jill is lovely and I appreciate her letting me have that connection with her. Certainly something I would love to do again.
I doubled my ‘slept with’ list. – Not only did I have my first same-sex sexual encounter this year, but I actually doubled the number of people I have slept with. I went from three to six. I know, I was shocked too. Not sure I will be able to do the same next year, but as that number hasn’t changed at all in the decade before this, I was impressed.
I finally stopped ‘fighting’ my submission. – Through everything that Sir (my husband) has been dealing with this year I kept coming back to whether or not I really needed submission. Maybe I could just turn it off and everything would be easier. It took me awhile, but I realized that that’s stupid. I’m a submissive. I always have been in one form or another and I know now that I always will be. And I have the power to submit to who I choose. I know these seem like obvious conclusions to reach, but it’s taken me awhile to get there.
As far as resolutions go I tend to be too optimistic. I set high expectations for myself and then hate myself by the end of January. I always want to lose weight and write more, so we’ll see how that goes. My 101 Things in 1001 Days ends this year, so there are several things to work toward on there. Lots more photos, reflection, and erotic writing to come. And, I’m sure, the continuing fight with my depression will appear from time to time. You know, to break up all the boob pics.