Tag Archives: Submissive

I need you, Sir

I need you Sir

I need you to sate my mind, body and soul, Sir

I need you to give me guidance and discipline, Sir

I need you to set up and honor the rituals, Sir

I need you to stay open and in the here and now, Sir

I need you express your displeasure and to give your praise freely, Sir

I need you to make me beg and serve you better, Sir

I need you to challenge me and correct me when I’m wrong, Sir

I need you to cherish my heart with care, Sir

I need you to see that you are the most important part of my life and I am trying, Sir

I need you, Sir.

Full Circle Part 3 of 3

Continued from Part 2

Sorry it took so long to complete the third installment of my story but it’s a hell of a lot easier to write about my life in the past than it is in the here and now.

“Joe” and I separated in August of 2009.  I came back to my hometown in January 2010, determined to start over once again, this time without depending on a man.  After 2 failed marriages I knew what I didn’t want but was clueless about what I did.  I knew I needed to get my kids settled and find a job.

As I started dating shortly after my move back home, I also began reconnecting with my childhood friends.  After a few dates with different men, I started weeding out my likes and dislikes about them and always kept things casual and fun.  I found myself going out more and more with my girlfriends I reconnected with.

One night, my girlfriends and I were out at one of the local bars and I was introduced to Sir.  Turns out we went to the same schools and had a lot of the same friends but never knew each other until we met that night.  I remember thinking he was nice but quiet and didn’t really give him a second thought.  A friend of mine mentioned him one day and told me about his situation with his soon to be ex-wife.  A couple of weeks later my friends and I coaxed him to come out after his kids went to bed.  I texted him and he agreed to meet us at the bar.  When he got there I was dancing with a cowboy who wouldn’t let me off the dance floor until I finally excused myself to the restroom.  I stepped outside and the cowboy followed me.  We were outside talking when Sir left the bar.

I didn’t see him out again for a few weeks but we texted each other a little, and began a friendship.  Then one night we were out at the bar and we sat down next to each other, talking and flirting.  We were interrupted by a mutual friend of ours who was also drunk and flirting with Sir.  I backed off a bit, I’m not the type to fight over a guy and I figured if he wanted to get to know me he would.  After the bar closed we walked out and went to say goodbye and ended up kissing each other good night.  As cheesy as it sounds there was something in that kiss that hit me hard.  I was the designated driver that night and after I dropped my girlfriend off at her house, I texted Sir.

We couldn’t go back to his place because of his kids and we couldn’t go to mine because I was temporarily staying with my dad, so we met up in a parking lot like a couple of horny teenagers.  We made out for a while and then I gave him a hand job before we said goodnight.

Because he was going through a divorce as well, we kept things casual for a few months, sneaking in some time after his kids went to bed or to his ex’s for the weekend.  However, as I went out on other dates I realized that I wanted something more with Sir.  I talked to him about it and he said he wasn’t able to give me anything more at the time.  I told him that it was beginning to feel more to me so it would just be best if we stopped seeing each other all together.

We didn’t talk for a couple of weeks until I accidently included him in a mass text message to our friends.  He texted me back and we began talking again.  There was something about him that I couldn’t let go of,  so if we could only be friends then I would live with that.

I continued to go out with other men; Sir and I even went out on a date or two.  I told him that I had a date set up with a man I met from an online dating site. This man and I had been talking and getting to know each other for a couple of months and I had no doubt if the date went well he would want to start dating exclusively.

Not meaning to, I forced Sir’s hand.  I knew he was scared to get into another relationship after his divorce but I wasn’t going to wait forever and I truly didn’t know if he’d ever be ready.  I needed to get on with my life and not be held back by my past.

We began dating on July 4th, 2010.  We were spending more time with each other and having our kids get to know each other as well. As the months went on, we were spending almost every night with each other so we decided to move in together the following spring.  As we settled into our life together we both were carrying baggage from two failed marriages a piece around with us as well.  I won’t say whose baggage was heavier because while I had abuse in my first marriage, Sir had deep seated feelings of inadequacy and lack of control that started in his first and continued on with his second marriage.

When we married in June 2012, most of my fears and insecurities were gone and I knew this was the man I was supposed to be with. He was my best friend and the love of my life.  As we began our life as husband and wife we were struggling to join our blended family together.  We put our children’s needs ahead of our own most days but still had a strong bond.  It took a while for both of us to realize that this marriage was different and better than our previous.  We are partners, 50/50; there is no one giving something and getting little to nothing in return for either of us.

With my first marriage I wanted to make my ex happy but not because it was fulfilling for me but out of fear. He wanted to control me, but not cherish and protect me (This is a very important distinction I needed to reconcile with myself before Sir and I could continue in a D/s relationship).  My second marriage, “Joe” wanted to cherish and protect me, but I couldn’t love him.  With my third and last marriage, Sir wants me to lovingly serve him while he lovingly protects and cherishes me. Make no mistake, he controls me but it is not malicious or vindictive, and ultimately he does this because I allow him.  If at any time I didn’t want to do this we would stop with no repercussions. It is definitely a different mindset then where I was with my first husband.

When I am being disciplined, trained or reprimanded by Sir, I feel safe and loved and I am never in fear of Him.  There are still triggers that make me tense up but it has only happened a few times and when it did I was able recognize the difference between what happened to me then and what I allow to happen now. Our D/s life is not perfect and we are still working out the problems, but our love is strong and we are closer than we ever were before.

Good Spank, Bad Spank

Discipline, a seemingly simple concept, is something I’ve given quite a bit of thought to lately.  It is a necessary part of a healthy D/s relationship.  Inappropriate or defiant behavior and speech must be corrected, but there are varying opinions of how best to do so.  I suspect that the answer is highly individual and that there is no end-all best solution for everyone.  The following is how I have decided to proceed.  For reference, the term impact will be used to refer to all striking activities (spanking, paddling, flogging, caning, etc..)

Verbal discipline will always be involved.  For some infractions, a stern talk may be sufficient on it’s own.  In situations where it is not, Pet still needs to know what she is being disciplined for.  Even when very obvious, there is a benefit to having her acknowledge what she did and restate it.

More serious offenses, such as being deliberately defiant, will call for more severe discipline.  This is where some uncertainty has come into play for me personally.  The majority of D/s couples, from what I can gather, use impact for discipline.  On the surface, this seems very simple and commonsense.  But I’ve recently read a few blogs where the Dominants purposely leave impact out of the discipline process.  They opt for other methods such as hours of sensory deprivation or standing in the corner.  The reasoning is not lost on me.  Many couples enjoy impact and find it a pleasurable activity.  This can lead to the sub ‘bratting’ to receive discipline, undermining the purpose.  More seriously, there is the risk of both partners being conditioned mentally to associate impact with negativity, even when done sexually or for training.

Unfortunately for Pet and I, the time intensive alternatives aren’t viable so I am forced to compromise and mitigate those risks.  We discussed for a bit the idea of using different items for ‘good spanking’ or ‘bad spanking’.  She told me that, for her, the pain is a good reminder but what really hurts is to know that she has disappointed me.  This reinforces my thoughts on the verbal aspect.

After many days of consideration, I’ve decided the following.  I will continue to use impact for both training and discipline with Pet.  The intensity and implement will vary accordingly but the primary difference will be verbal.  If impact is for training, I will always preface by saying “This is not for discipline.  You have done no wrong.”  When it is used for discipline, that will be made very clear beforehand and during.  My hope is that following distinct ‘rituals’ will isolate the two scenarios.  If not, we will adjust.

Sir

Full Circle…Part 2 of 3

Continued from Part 1

After I kicked my ex out, I was wounded emotionally; hating and distrusting all men.  I was angry at life in general.  I vowed no man would get close enough to me to hurt me like that again.  I had always been a sexual being and hadn’t had sex (if you could call it that) since my birthday about 6 months earlier.  So I decided that men would be good enough for sex but that’s all.  I couldn’t fathom trusting anyone again enough to let them in my life fully.

At work I was known as a ball buster and had to be reprimanded several times about how I addressed higher ranking men.  Luckily, the woman that helped me get rid of my ex knew the extent of my situation and had bailed me out a couple of times with anything being permanently on my record.  She gave me some advice and told me that was the best revenge was to live my life and live it well.  She set up an appointment with a counselor to help me work through it.  I went to 2 sessions and then stopped.  It was too fresh and too painful to rehash so I once again buried it. I lived in denial for a long time.

I met my 2nd husband (we’ll call him “Joe” just to keep it straight) the week my ex was moving out.  He was a friend of a friend.  When I first met him, I was not impressed by his good looks or his “aw shucks, ma’am” demeanor.  I knew he was an asshole like all other men.  As a matter of fact, the first two conversations I had with “Joe” involved me telling him to “shut the fuck up” and to also “grow up”.

When I moved out of base housing I moved into an apartment I shared with the same friend that introduced me to him, so I saw quite a bit of “Joe” over the next several weeks.  Still not interested in talking with anything that had a penis, I all but ignored him when he came over.  Then one weekend “Joe” came over when my roommate went out of town. We ended up talking and drinking most of the night and then had drunken sex when the sun came up.

“Joe” was a nice guy and I will admit it felt nice to once again have a man treat me like a woman and not a possession.  We went out a couple of times (no sex, drunken or otherwise) but every time a part of me kept waiting for him to slip exposing his real nature and start treating me like he owned me.  When he found out a little what I went through with my ex, he decided that he didn’t want to get wrapped up in that and I couldn’t blame him. Truthfully I was lonely but not looking for a relationship, so we decided to just be friends.

I began getting out with friends; drinking, dancing and partying.  I always had something going on so I was rarely by myself for long. Then one night I was at a party at the river and ran into “Joe”.  He and his friend were drunk and kept following my friend and me around the river.  “Joe” asked me to take a walk with him and I agreed.

As we walked around “Joe” told me that he liked me a lot and didn’t care about what happened.  He missed talking to me and in his drunken state told me he very much wanted to have sex with me again.  He provided the distraction I needed so I didn’t have to think about what I’d been through with my ex.

However, as we started spending time together, things as innocent as him dropping a dish on the floor would trigger a memory.  We got into our first argument and he grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving.  I turned around and slapped his face and screamed for him to never do that again.  He was shocked and I thought for sure that was the end of whatever we had going on. He let go of my arm and calmly said “Okay”.  He began modifying his behavior based off of mine. I refused to believe that this relationship would go anywhere and last because I just wanted someone around so I wasn’t alone with my past.

Five months after that night at the river, I found out I was pregnant with our first child.  After what happened with my ex I was extremely nervous to tell “Joe” and he actually found out when he overheard me talking to a friend of mine.  “Joe” did the honorable thing and asked me to marry him.  I laughed in his face and asked him why the hell I’d want to do that.  He was hurt but he backed off and once again adjusted his behavior based on mine.

I wasn’t ready to once again be owned by another man.  I wasn’t in love with “Joe”.  I don’t think I knew what true love was and I didn’t trust my own judgment.  I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the real “Joe” to make his ugly appearance.

“Joe” suggested a compromise; that we move in together as roommates with benefits.  We would split everything 50/50 and that way he could help with the baby. We talked in depth about it and he promised that if at any time it wasn’t working he would move into the spare bedroom and we would go back being just friends.  At the time I didn’t realize how much of himself he was sacrificing for me.

As my pregnancy progressed, he became one of my closest friends and the only person I felt safe telling everything to about my ex.  He was nonjudgmental and I eventually learned to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop with him.  As we got closer to my due date I realized just how much he was sacrificing to be in my life.  I had to admit to myself that I loved and respected him.  He was my protector and allowed me to be just who I was and to heal.  I wasn’t in love with him and at the time didn’t think I was capable of being in love with anyone because I still held back a part of me out of self-preservation.   He knew we turned an important corner in our relationship and he broached the subject of getting married again.  After many discussions and threats on my part we set a date.

After our eldest child was born, we married and moved back into base housing because he was still on active duty.  He was chivalrous and old fashioned in some ways.  He believed that when a child is young that a parent should be at home with him.  He also believed that a man should take care of his family.

We made the necessary sacrifices so I could stay at home with the kids (we had a second child seventeen months after the first).  After “Joe” got out of the military, he found a job working on the same base we were stationed at, so we stayed there renting a small apartment.  “Joe” took on a second job as I went to school and could still stay with the kids.  To everyone outside we were a happy family, but I was not happy at all and was dealing daily with my demons that would not go away.

I had gotten over the hurdle of trusting “Joe”, but I only trusted him with the kids and taking care of me physically but never fully with my heart.  About three years into our relationship I started counseling.  I began working through the shitball that was mine and my ex’s marriage.  It was time to let go of the anger, shame and resentment.  As my therapy continued the repressed memories started coming back to me, like the night of my 21st birthday. How could I have possibly not remembered that?  It came back to me on my 25th birthday.  Once again “Joe” modified his behavior after walking into the apartment to see his wife broken down crying with a toddler running around the house and the baby sleeping blissfully through it all.  “Joe” fed the kids and put them to bed, then called the local Chinese delivery and made me take a bubble bath.  We just sat on the couch not talking, but eating our take out, watching TV. I later found out he had lined up a babysitter for the night and made reservations at one of the best steak houses in town.  He never did ask me what had me crying that night.

After that I felt on edge, never knowing when something was going to trigger a memory.  I once again pulled away from “Joe”. I knew our relationship would never be anything more than what it was and for years it worked. I put all my effort into the kids and we had our third and final child in 2000.  Eventually the triggers went away and I had successfully put almost everything behind me. My ex was rarely ever brought up and I was okay with my past.

We continued to live status quo and to everyone outside of our marriage we were happy and content. In 2008, “Joe” still in the reserves went to Iraq for a year.  While he was gone, I was left to care for the house and kids by myself.  I discovered that I liked that independence and that I was happier without “Joe” in my life 24/7.  Don’t get me wrong, the year was hard and everything from a broken washer, a blown down fence and dealing with three children by myself had happened, but I hadn’t really missed him physically.

And on the whole, I was truly content with me for the first time in almost 20 years.  I didn’t know how I would handle it when “Joe” got back but as long as we were still caring towards each other I was prepared to stay right where I was.  We had three kids and a lifetime together. But for “Joe” being in Iraq had changed him as well.  He didn’t see actual fighting there; he was embedded on a base and worked on the aircraft, but he heard the fighting and he saw the aftermath of it. He was no longer at peace and content with his life and I realized that status quo was no longer the norm. I believe he would have stayed married to me and I know I would have to him if either of us was content.  We weren’t in love with each other, but had a marriage of friendship and respect.  No one was more shocked than he when I told him I wanted a divorce.  After a while he knew I was right.

We had gotten married out of an obligation and we both wanted more from our significant other than the half-life we were living.  So at age 38, with $3000 in my account, I packed up the kids, a dog and whatever else I could fit in my car and came back to my hometown.  I had no plan, job prospects, or a permanent address but I knew it was the right decision.  It was what I needed to do but could I open myself up to a new life with my whole heart?

 

To be continued tomorrow…

Full Circle…Part 1 of 3

Full Circle…Part 1

I was married twice before I met Sir.  My first marriage was an abusive farce when I was 19 years old and lasted 2 years. My second marriage was to a man who became one of my best friends and was one of mutual respect. He allowed me to heal from my first marriage and gave me my children.  My third and final marriage is to Sir, the man who completes me in every way and is my soul mate.

When I met my first husband, he was charming, intelligent and charismatic.  I was 19 years old, far away from home and he swept me off my feet with his words and attentions. We were married 3 months after we started dating.

The abuse started out very subtle, but looking back it felt like as soon as I put his ring on my finger a switch was flipped.  At first, it was a comment here and there about my weight, my hair or the way I dressed.  (I have never been rail thin, always having curves and big boobs)  It soon escalated to a push or shove here and there.  He was very careful about what he did and said in front of our friends.  He would insult me but made it look like a joke and of course I was always being “too sensitive”.  If I said something he deemed “stupid” he would grab me by the back of the neck and squeeze hard but to anyone else it looked like he was rubbing my neck.  I began monitoring what I said in front of our friends, not wanting to upset him and cause him to embarrass me.

It was about three months into our marriage when we had our first physical fight.  We were going out with friends and he didn’t like what I picked out to wear.  He told me to change it before our friends showed up.  I was fed up with his comments and decided to say something.  He grabbed me, then threw me against the front door and I hit my back against the knob and dead bolt. He next grabbed my jaw and told me never talk back to him again.  I made the mistake of kneeing him in the groin and walking away when he was bent over.  I was in the hallway when he came up behind me and shoved my face into the wall and told me I would pay for that and he pushed me down the hall towards our bedroom.  The only thing that saved me that night was the doorbell because our friends had arrived before we made it into the room.  He opened the door and Mr. Charismatic was firmly on display for the rest of the evening.  He was the loving doting husband; even opening doors for me and acting like I was the love of his life and not his possession (not in a good way or with my permission).

As the physical abuse escalated, so of course, did the mental.  His demands became increasingly ridiculous.  I was required to make him breakfast, lunch and supper, even though both of us were in the military and we both worked 12 hour shifts. Breakfast and supper had to be hot and lunch could not be leftovers.  After a while he decided that I was getting too fat at a healthy size 10, so I had to make his meals while I  ate yogurt for breakfast and lunch and a lean cuisine for supper.  I fought him at first, mortified that he was controlling what I consumed every day, but soon discovered it was easier to give in then to get beaten and berated. If I was “good” he would occasionally take me out for supper, but he controlled what I ordered and ate there as well.

About 8 months into our marriage, I thought I was pregnant.  I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. I’m ashamed to say that I thought if I was carrying his child he would at least take that into consideration and not hit me.  I purchased a home pregnancy test and left it in the bathroom so I could use it in the morning.  He found it, came after me and I received the worse beating I ever had.  He threw me down on the floor and repeatedly kicked me in the stomach and back.  He told me I wasn’t going to get fatter and there was no way he was going to play daddy to a kid that probably wasn’t his.

As I was lying on the ground in the fetal position, getting kicked, slapped and being called a whore; I knew my life had reached a new level of hell.  He had never accused me of cheating before and he now had a new reason (though totally bogus) to inflict pain on me.  I wasn’t allowed to talk to any man about anything but work and of course, I could talk to our friends but only if he was around.  Every man we encountered I, of course, was trying to sleep with and he would remind me that I belonged to him by grabbing my crotch or boobs in front of others.  It still amazes me how our friends at the time never said anything and still thought he was an awesome guy.  How many times did I hear how lucky I was?

By my 21st birthday he had a girlfriend on the side; which was okay with me because he, for the most part, left me alone and was generally in a better mood.  Except the night of my birthday celebration when one of our guy friends made the unwittingly, drunken mistake of giving me a birthday hug as everyone was leaving the house.  As soon as everyone was gone, he grabbed me away from the sink in the kitchen where I was cleaning up and pulled me into the bedroom and forced himself on me.  He was drunk and I knew better than to fight him.  He fucked me and rolled off of me, said “Happy Birthday Whore” and passed out.

I cried myself to sleep that night and began thinking of how to get away from him.  It was creepy how after that night his demeanor changed and he was calmer about things.  The next day it seemed to me like he was reading my mind, because as he sat at the kitchen table cleaning his Ruger 9mm pistol, he very politely asked me to sit with him.

I sat there for a few minutes watching him disassemble the gun before he started talking about the desert we lived in.  His voice was quiet and low.  I remember thinking that it was the calm before all hell would break loose.  He began to describe in great detail how he could kill me and get rid of my body in the vast area we lived in at the time and no one would ever find me.  After what I had endured the night before I was almost numb to his threat.  When he was finished cleaning his gun, I made the mistake of getting up from the table to start supper.  He jumped me, tackling me to the floor and held the gun to my head.  I started crying not knowing what he was planning when he just as quickly got off of me laughing.  I didn’t dare move as he picked up his cleaning kit, put it away and left the house.  When he returned an hour later it was like none of it happened.  I knew that I was unwantedly owned by a psychotic man that had no intention of letting me go.

After his enlistment was up I saw a slim shot to get out of this farce of a marriage.  If he was no longer in the military he had no business being on a military base except for the fact he was married to a service member.  After one brutal night, I found the courage to talk to the highest ranking enlisted woman in my command and told her everything about my marriage. At the time, I had a black eye which everyone believed happened at the lake horsing around.  He was always careful not to leave visible marks except that last time he lost control and popped me in the eye. It was embarrassing to sit in her office and retell the story of my abuse.  I was ashamed that I fell for this man and allowed him to do the things he did to me.  But what was even more mortifying is when she asked me if this was what I truly wanted.  She told me that before she would help me she wanted to make sure I would not change my mind and take him back; like this was something I wanted to deal with for the rest of my life?  I told her I would not change my mind and after much discussion and morale boosting,  she told me to go home and tell him I wanted a divorce.  If he laid a hand on me to call 911 and then her.  He would be arrested and escorted off base.

As I walked in the door he was about to leave presumably to be with his girlfriend. I told him I wanted a divorce and he started laughing at me.  Something at that moment broke open for me and I didn’t care if he attacked me because this was no longer the dirty little secret in my life.  I confronted him about his girlfriend and as we argued he grabbed my shoulders.  I warned him that our command knew about his abuse. I told him that they took pictures of my face and the bruises left on my side from our last altercation.  Something changed in him at that moment as well and he let go of me.  He began pacing and wanted to know what I told them.  I said that they knew everything and if he touches me again he would be in jail.  He started berating me on how stupid I was; how no one would ever believe me; how I was nothing and no one is going to want a weak whore like me.  Then he said the most ridiculous thing out of what I’m sure was desperation to get back the control he lost that day.  He told me that if he couldn’t have me then no one else would have me either.  Not even 24 hours before, I would have believed he would have killed me rather than let me go, but for some reason on that day I thought it was the most absurd thing in the world to hear.

He stayed in our base house for another week in order to get his things packed.  I made myself scarce between working and hanging out at a friend’s house. On the day he left, I watched as he was escorted off base by security and cried because the hell I endured for almost 2 years was over, or was it? Would I ever truly be okay after what I endured?

To be continued tomorrow…