Holding His Lead

For once we had a house full of people. I took advantage of this opportunity to have my boy sleep on the floor beside my bed. I’d made him up a comfy bed of his own there and it seemed very natural to have him sleep there wearing his lead. The end of the lead looped up onto the bed, and I held it though the night.

For many people a collar is a symbol of submission. I even have two of my own, a play collar and a public collar, both worn as signs of submission to Perrin.

Mat doesn’t have a collar as such; instead he has his lead. a beautiful length of pink rope which loops over his head and acts as a choke collar with a small loop at the other end for my hand to slip through and hold.

When Mat wears his lead, when the rope encircles his neck, then that same rope snakes around my wrist. Binding us together. Submission and dominance woven from the same stuff.

Although many submissives wear collars I’ve never seen any discussion of a similar symbol for dominants. A bracelet to encircle their wrist perhaps?
That seems to me, in one sense, to be a surprising omission. Where once only a woman would be expected to wear a wedding ring these days it is now commonly expected that both parties will wear some token of their union. A mutual sign of commitment.

D/s relationships are certainly a form of commitment. A relationship which requires nurturing and attention, mutual (if somewhat disparate) give and take. They are more than mere play. They define a place and an identity for each party. It is a relationship with possessives; he is my boy; I am his Domme.
When my boy wears his lead I am there holding it; even in my sleep.

Coping in the Hundred Acre Wood

I’m a big fan of Winnie The Pooh; not only have I read (repeatedly) the original books I also have some associated ones such as ‘Winnie Ille Pu’ and ‘The Tao Of Pooh’. So it’s no surprise that I was interested in reading a blog post about Pooh and relationships. I found this post incredibly relevant as it discussed how when we look at a problem what we see may be a lot more frightening than what actually is.

And all the time Winnie-the-Pooh had been trying to get the honey-jar off his head. The more he shook it, the more tightly it stuck. “Bother!” he said, inside the jar, and “Oh, help!” and, mostly, “Ow!” And he tried bumping it against things, but as he couldn’t see what he was bumping it against, it didn’t help him; and he tried to climb out of the Trap, but as he could see nothing but jar, and not much of that, he couldn’t find his way. So at last he lifted up his head, jar and all, and made a loud, roaring noise of Sadness and Despair . . . and it was at that moment that Piglet looked down.
“Help, help!” cried Piglet, “a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!” and he scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, “Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump! Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump! Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!” And he didn’t stop crying and scampering until he got to Christopher Robin’s house.

from Winnie The Pooh by A.A. Milne

Perrin has depression. To his great credit he is writing about it and actively taking steps to tackle it. What I haven’t really discussed here though is the impact that his depression has been having on me.
The reason for that is that I felt alone. My attempts to be loving and supportive are not sufficient to make him feel better. I struggle to deal with the fragile being he has become. He may have depression but he is not sad all the time. Even when he is happy, I am aware that at any moment the depression may be triggered and he will become withdrawn and irritable once again.
Sometimes the pain of living with someone who both is and is not the person I married makes me want to run away calling for Christopher Robin to come and rescue me.

Recently though I’ve been reading around. I’ve come across the term ‘depression fallout’. I’ve learned that my feelings are normal. I’ve been reminded too that it is important for me to ensure that my own emotional needs are met. To carry on finding ways to enjoy my life and not moping over how sad Perrin is.
To be fair, I have been doing that (or trying to) anyway. Mat’s presence has ensured that I am loved and supported even when things are difficult.

When I’m feeling better then it’s easier to remember that Perrin is ill. He is still the person that I love, even if it is hard to see that under the depressed, Eeyore like exterior at times.

So I carry on. Having adventures in the Hundred Acre Wood. Glad to remember that when I think I hear a heffalump, it’s OK, under that jar is my very own beloved bear.

The View From The Top

Another year passes and it is time to pause and look at the view from here.
I had some resolutions for this year. One was to meet new people. I made a real effort to do this and am delighted to have made several new friends. One of those friends turned out to be more important than I could possibly have expected. From two submissives meeting for coffee and a chat to a Domme and her boy falling in love together was a short step but utterly unexpected. That resolution and that coffee have shaped my entire year and this blog.

Indeed I wanted to continue writing the blog and I have ended up writing far more than I would have expected and received more feedback than I ever hoped for. I am very grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read or comment.
I also wanted to make the people I loved happy, that perhaps I have done least well at. Perrin’s depression has been a real challenge for me to deal with and I struggle with the implications of that still.

So what have I learned this year?
I’ve learned how important it is to stick to the rules of a relationship and to discuss them honestly.
I’ve learned that I can (sometimes) have sex without commitment and it can be a lot of fun.
I’ve learned that I have a dominant side and that expressing that is extremely satisfying.

For next year I want to explore my dominant side further and grow in confidence. I want to find a niche for my submissive side, a way of expressing what I need within the limitations I currently have. I hope Mat and I continue to grow in our relationship and build a deeper understanding into the love and passion we share. I hope to help Perrin find his own happiness again and see him his true self again. I think I have my work cut out for me but I’m going to give it my very best shot and, of course, I will continue to chronicle my progress here.

One Wise Man

The Christmas story is supposed to contain wise men. Here is a story of one of them.

I’m going away for Christmas to see my family. Not ‘around the corner’ away, or even ‘across the country’ away, no this is ‘the other side of the world’ away. With that comes timezone changes and means I can no longer rely on free, instant communication wherever I am.
So I will be further away from my boyfriend than I have ever been, for longer than I have ever been, with less communication with him than I have ever had.

For me this is a cause of huge insecurity. Long distance relationships have always seemed to lead to long distance breakups. While right now I feel loved, confident and happy; at the same time a little voice keeps nagging me ‘what if you’re wrong’.
So I’m afraid to go, afraid to come back, afraid of the future.

Enter one wise man stage left. [You may use two coconuts for an unconvincing camel sound effect if you wish.]

My boyfriend has amazed me with his reaction.
He listened to my fears, seriously, without belittling them or me.
He told me that he loves me, that he will be there when I return. He told me this directly, looking me in the eye. I know he was telling me the simple truth and that means so much to me.

Still I am insecure, this is an emotional reaction I cannot fully control.
Then, my darling really took my breath away. He didn’t blame me for feeling insecure. Instead he told me that he would not tell me again that he would still be there, because it wouldn’t help me; that the only thing that would convince me was time, was coming back and finding him there.

Nothing he could have said could have calmed me more than that simple statement. Nothing could have made me feel more loved and understood. These are my emotions, mine to fight and control. No desperate avowal of promises can override my fears, but coming home to find our love unchanged will strengthen my faith and confidence immeasurably.

For all he is my boy, he is also a very wise man and I respect him incredibly deeply for that and love him more than I can say.

I look forward to coming home to him.

What Is Left

The first time I used my strap-on I raped Mat with it.
It sounds so harsh and cold written like that but in fact it was an act of love for both of us. More than that it was a ritual, a rite of passage for me, for us, for our relationship.

All relationships have rituals, whether kinky or vanilla. Does your husband always make you a cup of coffee in the morning? Do you always say the same thing to your partner when you come home in the evening? Do you have a favourite position to make love in? It’s those familiar things which provide structure and security to a relationship, a sense of place and belonging, a sense of home. The ways that love is shown, shared and  enjoyed may be more extreme in D/s but that makes them more intense and even more significant.

Mat has already written that he is broken and that means that some of our most precious rituals have had to go by the board for the time being. While I am quite capable of enjoying his face twisted in pain, I need to be able to make it end, must be able to provide comfort when it is over. It is no fun watching someone you love hurting in a way you cannot control. Certainly, too, I will not risk adding to that.

Having realised that this leaves a hole in our experiences I am left pondering what is left?

Smaller things, I think, but no less important. My fingers tangled in his hair, calling him my ‘Little One’, his face looking up at me, all these continue and remind me who we are. Even, if I’m truly demanding, my evening cup of cocoa is part of how we live our lives.

So for now those little things remain, a reminder of the bigger things which will return as soon as my boy is strong enough to bear them.

Why Asking Is Hard

I’ve already discussed one form of asking for what you want here but it is still something I struggle with.

Theoretically I know that asking is ok, I know too that receiving a “no” is not the end of the world. I recently came across this blog post which describes this here and offers a positive message.

“I deserve good things. I am entitled to my share of happiness. I refuse to beat myself up. I am attractive person. I am fun to be with. I can ask for what I want because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me!”

The problem is that I often don’t feel all those things. I feel that being told “no” means that I have done something wrong. That I have relied on more emotional commitment than there is. That I will be seen as greedy or selfish for asking, and that the other person will resent my demands. I feel that each “no” is a little tally against me and when they reach some unknown value the other person will leave the relationship and that it will be my fault for asking for too much.

Even worse I may get a “yes” but it will be a grudging resentful yes, and that invisible tally count will mount up just the same.

So really the only safe ground is to only ask for things you’re very sure they wish to give. Perhaps if I give everything and don’t demand too much I will be loved, perhaps then they’ll stay with me.

This little voice, this certainty that affection is weighed and measured, is hard to shift. Even knowing that my own love is freely given does not allow me to truly believe that I am loved unconditionally. Without that confidence asking for anything is very, very hard.

Can I have a hug please?

Jealous of My Prerogatives

I write this knowing that Mat is going to be playing with another domme today and is being filmed doing it. This is not the first time he has done this, with this same woman. Certainly he never promised exclusivity of kink and I can hardly claim any moral right to expect it; nor do I. Moreover my opinion was sought and listened to, and I willingly agreed that he should have this little adventure. I am however finding it a challenging experience in some ways.

This is not some other emotional relationship. If it was I might have expected that she and I would have sat down together over coffee, laughing and chatting, discussing what she might do to my boy. Some of that conversation would obviously be out of Mat’s earshot. Not all of it though, after all we would both want to see him squirm which he does so delightfully. Then I would have some idea what she might be doing with my boy, would feel I had some part in it.

Instead this is far more of a businesslike arrangement with a woman I have never met. I don’t even know whether she knows of my existence, probably she knows Mat has a domme, but she certainly doesn’t know me as a person. As such, I feel excluded and I find I also feel jealous of my prerogatives. Mat is after all mine, my boy, my puppy, my little one and I am responsible for taking care of him.

Still, I have let him go. Trusting that he will return. Slightly soiled and abused admittedly. Trusting that he will come and kneel at my feet and look up at me, my adoring submissive boy still.

He is, after all, mine.