I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid.
See, a few weeks back, Sir and I were having a random conversation about spanking, whipping, and caning, in which He said something along the lines of, “I’m so going to make you safe word.” (Daddy so does not say say the word “so”).
It’s not kink.
It’s not a man with an Alpha gene.
It’s trust. Pure and simple.
A dear friend of mine is struggling in her marriage. Recently separated, but still together, it’s almost painful to watch what they’re doing to each other.
Although I love getting new toys, the plug I received this month from Cal Exotics sat for almost a week without making its way to our bed.
This evening, before dinner, I mentioned to M that I needed to review it tonight. So after homework and showers and goodnight kisses, we finally made it upstairs to our bedroom. And yet there I sat, not moving towards sex or sex toys or passion of any sort.
In the last year, I’ve downsized my book collection by at least 60%. The last time I purged, one of the books in the pitch pile was Mars and Venus in Touch by John Gray (the guy who wrote Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, just in case that wasn’t obvious). I flipped through the book, skimming it for anything I might find interesting, and I stumbled upon what Gray calls “The primary love needs of women and men.”
It seems to me I’ve read a lot about struggling with your submission. Seems rather common.
And there are all sorts of things submissives struggle with. Always feeling like you could do better, that you are not submissive enough. Turning into a brat when things don’t go your way or you want to act out *one of the most common things you’ll find*. Becoming frustrated with things are not going the way you want to, or moving fast enough for you. Trusting in your Dominant. Giving in. The list goes on and on.
*Disclaimer: This post may piss a few of you off. That’s not my intent. This is meant to be more of a “these are my thoughts, what are your thoughts.” So if this pisses you off, please tell me what your thoughts on the matter are. I seek to understand…*
Last spring, in what was a different WordPress world, at least for me, I got chastised for commenting something like “A Daddy Dom will beat the shit out of you, then comfort you in his arms as you cry.” I apparently offended a fellow blogger with my language and I, of course the ever civil LSAM, publicly apologized, modified my lexicon and explained my meaning.
Most of you probably know that in my dynamic, M is the Sir (often times “Sir Daddy”) and I am the toy. And yes, these are our pet names for one another, but to me, as the toy, the word runs deep. When he calls me by it, I melt. Truly. I swear to the gods it probably lowers my blood pressure and wets my panties when the word leaves his lips.