My Writing

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Shifting Limits, Seeking Balance

So when I showed my husband this week's Wicked Wednesday prompt:

...he laughed and said something like, "You put up that sign all the time...and then... you get drunk...."

Somehow, at that point, the "off" becomes a bit blurry and starts to look more like "no". Funny how that happens - a little liquid courage...or better yet, a little liquid freedom.

So, that led me to consider: freedom from what, exactly? Where does my inner censor come from? Because quite honestly, even sober, sometimes a particular thing sounds good - and then at another time, it totally turns my stomach and freaks me out, making me question my own desires.

And then, of course, there are limits that stop being limits through experience. A good example would be anal sex, for me. I can remember, all the way back to college when I had anal sex for the first time. It was awful. Just sad, really. He sort of just shoved (or tried to shove) his dick in there, sans lube (ouch!), and I spent the remainder of the night curled up in the fetal position feeling embarrassed disappointment. I was so traumatized, I didn't even attempt it again until I met my husband, in my late 20s. It still makes me blush to talk about it, but I must admit, I enjoy it, and while it is no longer off limits, talking about it in any sort of depth is still uncomfortable. Why? I have no idea. My inner prude seems to think I'm a total slut sometimes and that having anal sex - and liking it - is proof. Why I'm worried about what my inner prude thinks is beyond me, because my inner slut thinks she's a fucking bore.

What else has been off limits? Non-monogamy comes to mind. But that one goes up and down for me. Sometimes it sounds like a ton of fun. Other times, it just sounds like work and eventual, unavoidable disappointment. In connection, non-monogamous exploits in our town of residence is another "off limits" turned "aw, what the fuck...might as well." Non-monogamous interactions with co-workers? Bosses? Friends? Yah...been there, done all of it...and lived to tell about it...reputations and relationships all happily in-tact.

Pretty much nothing that I would once have deemed "off limits" has come back to bite me in the ass once I've tried it. My emotions about and reactions to some of those events have done me some damage, but the actual events have caused no lasting harm to my life.

In fact, I have to say, with my track record, it's a wonder I say no to anything. Because, aside from so many disappointing male swingers, trying new things has never led me to ruin. And yet...I still dig in my heels and freak out any time my husband wants to try something new.

Nobody puts baby in a corner...but baby sure as hell puts herself there on a regular basis...

Tie me up? Okay. Awesome. No. I changed my mind. Okay. Yes, please.

Wartenberg wheel? Ow. I don't know. Maybe. Tonight it works.! I can't take it! Let's try it again.

Discipline? Spanking? Makes me feel subjugated. Makes me feel impish. Makes me feel like disobeying more. Makes me feel indignant. Makes me feel horny. Spank me please! Fuck, that hurts. No more of that, please. I can't handle it any more.

Violet wand? Fuck no. Fuck no. Fuck no. ??? I don't know...maybe I could consider...maybe...if...

(Am I the only one with these weird bi-polar, shifting limits?)

Pretty much everything that I've tried, at one point in my was off limits. Can't have sex...turned into...Can't have sex until I'm 16 (I self-imposed that most of my limitations). Can't have sex with someone I don't love...turned into...Can't have sex with someone I don't know. Can't have oral sex...but it's okay with ____________. Can't have unprotected sex...unless you really trust him. Can't have anal sex...became...Won't have anal sex...became...Okay, I'll try again...became...Awesome. Can't have sex with married people...morphed into...Can't have sex with married people who are cheating. Can't have sex with more than one person at a time. Can't have sex with a woman. Can't have sex in public. Can't have group sex. Can't have sex with an audience. Can't be filmed having sex. Can't talk about sex publicly. Can't publish naked photos of myself.

Every sex-related "can't" or "won't" has, over time, turned into a possibility or a reality...even a preference. At this point in my life, I don't think I could honestly say" never" to anything sexual that was consensual. My only worry is the idea of having no limits. For some people, that might sound like a whole lot of fun and completely freeing. But it terrifies me. Where does it end? Where does the experimentation end? When does it go too far? Because it can. It can always go too far. I think I have a whole lot in common with my dog...who needs to have a small, enclosed space to feel safe while she sleeps. That's how I am with my sexploration.

I suppose it's all about finding balance, which can be tricky when you only have to deal with yourself. It can be near impossible when you have to consider the needs and wants of two.'s where Mr. LL and I are now - figuring out our limits, knowing those limits will shift with time, learning to be open to the changes. Well, I'll be honest...I'm learning to be open to the changes...or at least close my eyes, take his hands, wince, hold my breath, and trust him to lead me.

Now-a-days...the only things off limits in our sex life are sexual stagnation and avoidance of tough conversations about limits.

Monday, April 25, 2016

Under Surveillance

Misty gave her directive, "Call. Dave. Home," and the car's bluetooth obliged..."Calling Dave. Home."

"Yell-o...'sup, hon?"



"Just stuck in traffic, bored outta my mind."

"Ahhh...lookin' for some action, eh?"


"I could probably swing somethin'."

"Oh, yeah?"


"Like what?"

"Like...where are you?"

"Near exit 277. But, we're at a crawl...and I'm wearing a skirt."

"Good girl...makes things easy. Panties?"

"Could lose them quick and easy."

"Do it."

He waited a moment as he heard her rustling around a bit.


"Lick your fingers. Really suck on them...leave 'em wet..."

She did.

"Now rub them around your clit until it swells...but don't touch it directly. I want that sucker throbbing before you give in."

She was quiet, but obeying his every word.

"What's it look like?"

She slid her skirt to her waist, spread her legs, lifting one knee against the gear-shift and the other against the driver's side door.

"Wet...and very, very pink."

"Good. Are you still at a stand still?"

"Yep. Must be a wreck ahead."

"Too bad...their misfortune has led to our benefit..lick the first two fingers on your other hand and slip them in your cunt."

She followed his direction.

"Now, with your other hand, begin massaging your clit."

"This isn't easy in this space, Dave."

"Didn't promise easy, did I?"


"Didn't really ask, either..."

"Correct, as always, my love."

She stroked herself into a flurry of wetness.

"Is that your wet pussy I hear, serenading me?"

"Yes...I'm very, very wet. I'm likely to make a damn mess of the car seat."

"That's why we splurged on the leather, babe. Never question."

She gasped a bit as her breathing sped up. She could feel the tell-tale signs of her oncoming orgasm...the heat rising up her belly, across her chest, encircling her throat, like the ghost of his hand pressing her head against the headrest. Even from miles away, he could restrain her every move - play her like a theremin.

"You aren't allowed, Misty."

"Ah, Jesus,'ve gotta be kidding me...I'm so close..."

"Nope. Only me. So stop. Now."

"Okay..." she whined.

"I mean it." His voice was stern.

She begrudgingly removed her hands, pulling her skirt back down around her thighs, wiping her wet fingers on the soft fabric.

"How do you always know?"

"Because I know you...and I'm always watching."

She furrowed her brow into a questioning expression of playful annoyance.

"Well...are you at least home now...can we fuck the minute I walk in the door? Seriously...I'm fucking horny, Dave..."

"Not yet. Almost."

"Where are you?"

"Near exit 277."


Misty looked to her right...a blue Honda. She looked to the left...

"Ah...fuck you, Dave...did you record that whole fucking thing?"

"You betcha, sweet heart..."

He winked at her from the cab of his shiny, white Dodge Ram pick-up. And he left her with the same lecherous smile that had drawn her in all those years ago. had to write this I gave masturbating in the car another go recently. It's not easy. In can only really happen when stuck in our girl, Misty, here...or when on a nice, straight highway with the cruise control on.'s not the safest thing to be doing. But, there are times when a girl just has to try to get her rocks off. I was on a short expanse of highway, so there really wasn't much time. I knew I'd never get off, but there are moments when simply touching myself can release a bit of pent up tension. I even tried parking at Wal-mart...way out away from everyone else's finish the job. But, it didn't happen. Frustrated...I did my errands and managed to get my mind off of it. Nothing like shopping in Wal-mart to cool your desire right off.)

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Feed: (book introduction)

So, I've decided to open up my book reviews to ALL books I read, rather than just the sexy books. Because...well...because books are amazing. And people who read have sexy minds. Therefore...all books are sexy. At least that's the premise I'm sticking with (and if I wanted to be a snooty, readerly type...I could have said "that's the premise with which I'm sticking"...but I'm okay with being a bit of a grammar rebel...and I sort of like things that dangle, if ya know what I mean...)

Now, putting the geek humor aside, my latest read?

I've probably told you this before, but if I haven't, you should know: I'm a huge fan of zombies. I think the obsession started when I was like 10 and my dad was out of town, leaving mom and me to fill our time doing girly mom-and-daughter-type things. You know...braiding hair, painting nails, and watching double features on Prom Night and Night of the Living Dead. The seed was planted that night, and it's grown and grown since then.

Recently, I was in a local bookstore. I had a gift certificate burning a hole in pocket, and I couldn't find anything I really wanted to buy. So, I hit the "staff suggestions," where I found Feed. I looked inside the cover and found, to my happiness, that it was the first in a series.

So, of course, after talking with the staff member who recommended them, and reading the first chapter of Feed...I bought them all.

I'm about half way through Feed right now, and I'm loving it.

Basically, the story takes place 20 years after a virus (created from "cures" for the common cold and cancer) spreads across the U.S. The world of journalistic news as we know it has been completely desecrated because people are terrified to go out in the world. The blogosphere has become THE place to get the most accurate and personal information on pretty much everything. Yay for the rise of the small-time blogger! Anyhow, a group of young bloggers apply for the opportunity to follow a republican presidential hopeful on his journey to the White House.

Like most good zombie stories, the zombies are sort of peripheral. They are simply the vehicle for the action...the reason things have to be "this way". What this novel is really about is politics and journalism in a world gripped by fear.

I'll have more to say when I'm done. But for now, I'm not sad I brought the book home, and I don't find it to be a disappointment in the genre of zombie fiction. Mira Grant, the author, did change up the "zombie rules" a bit, which normally pisses me off (I mean...zombies are a certain way, and when people try to change the rules and make, like - fast zombies - or - zombies with a conscience, I get a little upset). In Feed, the virus can pass to animals over 40 pounds...which means game, cattle, large dogs, and other wild animals can pass the virus. I'd hate this, really, except that it creates a political drama where people are either pro-animal or not. Kill 'em all or protect them? And since this novel is mainly about politics and government, it's an interesting addition.

As of today, I'd recommend it.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

My husband is not always right...

As I've mentioned, I'm currently taking Julie N. Gordon's online course called Wife School. She's a Christian marriage & family counselor and wrote the book of the same name. Now, as stated before, I can glean a lot from religious submission - the lessons it teaches and some of its goals.

In week 9's lesson (Gordon sends emails each Thursday packed with essays and reflection questions related to the premises in her book), she describes a woman who disagrees with her husband about something having to do with their children. The couple goes to a Christian counselor who ultimately tells her that she'll simply have to defer to her husband's decision. The counselor had said, "When couples try and try, and can't reahc an agreement, ultimately, the wife must submit." Gordon explains that the woman (a friend of hers) hated that. But that Gordon, herself, understood. She writes, "Submission does not get easier as the years go on. You will wrestle with this Biblical premise until the day you die. But since my friend truly loved the Lord, she responded well. This was about my friend and her spiritual walk with the Lord. It wasn't about her realizing her husband was right. It was about her seeing her husband's right to make final decisions, even if she disagreed."

I'm not saying submission is always easy. In fact, for me, it's sometimes rather difficult. In some ways, it's against my nature (I was raised to be independent and rather argumentative); but in other ways, it's my very essence...a soul need.

My railing against submission is a personal battle, not a religious one. And doing something "just because he says to do it" is often a key part of submission. BUT, if I truly disagreed, even if I submitted, it would be important for me to voice my disagreement and my reasons for it. By not doing so, resentment can take over. And being submissive isn't about martyrdom. It isn't about silencing yourself. It's about communication and respect and choice. Sure, I defer to his opinion. But, that doesn't make him a god. And I don't defer because of God. This isn't about my spiritual walk with the's about my spiritual walk with myself and my husband. It's learning to truly connect in a harmonious and balanced soul-depth. I don't think my husband has some sort of natural born right to make final decisions...or that he is smarter than me. I've simply made the choice to have him at the head of our family.

Having my husband lead makes me feel safe and protected. I trust him...and believe me, submission of any type is an act of act of personal faith in another being. Dominance is also an act of trust and faith...that this person who has entrusted you with their submission will always be there.

Friday, April 22, 2016

To Love, Honor, and "Obey"?

I wrote our wedding vows. I researched and found examples and did everything I could to make sure they said just what we wanted them to say. Of course, we both also added our own little flair, but the main vows were simple and based on the traditional Irish and Celtic ceremonies of old. I even used the red ribbon used in handfasting ceremonies, the silver challis, and the concept of anam cara.

The one thing I avoided was the word "obey."

How was I to know, as a young bride...a woman who had lived on her own nearly 12 years...that submitting (something I'd railed against my whole life) would be, not only necessary, but comforting?

See, I grew up in a military family. My parents had a "traditional" marriage. Dad was a soldier from the minute he stepped off his high school campus. And mom, was super young and naive and in love. When they married, they were still "growing up." And they had their own parents and grandparents as models of what marriage should be. Unfortunately, that meant...unhappy - with dad "in charge" and mom simply doing whatever she could to subvert his power behind his back. They were guided by social norms and expectations, but no one ever really taught them HOW to be married.

And they said their vows blindly.

My husband and I did not. BUT...we also didn't realize just how much we would influence each other or change (together and apart) over the years.

We've been married nearly ten years now, and a lot has changed. We've loved each other fiercely, and lived up to our vows in most ways. We've also disappointed one another, hurt each other, and completely lost track of our initial promises to one another.

And this many years later, I've come to realize the importance of that word "obey." I'm not saying I'd put it in the vows, even now. I'm a pretty strong, modern chick. I am not the wife of old. I do not stay at home (both because I can't really afford to and because I choose to use my intellect, training, and passion to do important things in the world outside my home). My husband supports that, though I know, if I really wanted to stay home, he'd do what he could to make that happen.

He wants me to be a strong, independent woman. And he respects the work I do. He likes that I can take care of myself.

But, he also loves taking care of me and feeling needed and important. I CAN live on my own. We both can. However, we've chosen to join our lives. And because of this choice, there are concessions and modifications that need to be made.

Over time, I've learned his deepest soul needs. The needs he tells no one else...the needs that usually remain unspoken. I'm sad to say, that for years, even though I knew them...I disregarded them, because I didn't want to accept them or fulfill them. By ignoring them, though, I watched him begin to wilt like an unwatered plant. And eventually, he nearly dried up. That's how much he loved me. He was willing to go without, for years, and deny himself. And I went for years blaming myself.

Now we're here. Just past an important cross-road. I had the choice to maintain my righteousness and my independence. He'd have graciously given it to me. But, I found that I could barely breathe without him. I could not see my future without him in it. I didn't want to.

From past experience, I knew that giving in and letting go of control could feed his soul. I'd seen it happen. He truly becomes a different person when I give him the reigns. (Notice the operative word: "give.") He stands a little taller. His pupils dilate with power and self-confidence. He rises to the position he's been offered. And, honestly, I like it that way. He becomes the man I married...rising from the ashes of the man I created through denial, guilt, and resentment.

It's not completely a situation of obeying. It's a situation of respect. I defer to him. I ask his opinion. I pay attention.

With marital submission, it is not that the husband is more valuable or important, it's simply that the wife has chosen to follow his leadership. This benefits both partners. It gives both definable roles, which allows them to feel safety and comfort because they know what is expected of them. It's not about losing identity. It's about building it in the sanctuary of another person's protection.

In traditional Christian households, where submissive wives defer to the leadership of their husbands, it is done because, according to their religion, God has ordained that the man will be the head of the household. Even if he's a bad leader, she is to accept this because her submission to her husband is an extension of her submission to God. These wives honor their husbands because God has asked them to do this.

I'm not saying secular submission is better than religious submission. But, secular submission is about the relationship between two people who had chosen to respect particular roles. They have chosen, and they follow their own design. They are not at the mercy of any deity and do not have that deity to run to when things don't go smoothly. They only have each other. That means, when things become uneven, they have to redesign or modify together. One does not simply pray and hope that the other will fall into line. One does not manipulate the other into compliance through action or guilt or religion. One had nothing to fall back on besides the agreement that was made between the two parties involved.

It's much more organic. For a religious submissive, I think it is probably a comfort to know that she has no control. That she can place her faith and heart in the hands of God and that He will lead and protect her and help her to accept her husband for who he is...or isn't. She can pray. She can find solace in her church. And she can encourage her husband to do the same.

For a secular submissive, I think it is just as much a comfort to know that she does have control. She has placed her faith in herself and her husband. She can find solace in their bond. And she can encourage her husband through words and requests, as can he encourage her. comes down to this. No one rules over me besides me. I am not a slave. I am not literally owned. I have chosen to hand over control to a man whom I love and trust and need, because, in doing so, I provide us both comfort and calm. Huge amounts of responsibility for worldly things are taken off my shoulders when I let go and let him lead. But with that comes responsibility to keep him happy. I no longer have to worry about the world. I have only to worry about the lives in my charge. It's quite a weight to brush off.

So...obey? Well, yes...because I want to. I obey my heart and my love for him by doing what I know he wants most. I do this because I want him to be happy. And by making him happy, I make myself happy. It's a symbiotic submission really. And being the Dominant in this equation requires a similar consideration. What he does, he does because it is in my best interest, and because it makes him happy.

While this isn't an arrangement appropriate for all marriages. It has and is working for us. Though we have yet to fully define it and fine tune it - we are well on our way to doing so.

But then, marriage is journey, isn't it? And not all who wander are lost.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Getting out of my own head

Every morning, I do a bit of reading and journaling. Some soul-searching, if you will...and self-education. Though I know I could do a better job of implementing what I learn (rather than just contemplating it and knowing I should do it), right now, I feel much like the caterpillar in the just on the edge of becoming, "so hinderingly dangling" (to quote a favorite Taylor Mali poem).

"My husband likely sees my "steeping" and "marinating" as stalling or "doing what I always do" (which is promising to change and then not changing)...and this is surely something I'll need to discuss at our Sunday "marriage council" (our weekly "state of the union", if you will). Based on past evidence, he'd have every right to assume I'm not ever going to come out of that damn chrysalis. Why? Because I have a tendency to live in a constant state of "I'll get there..." or "I can't implement this until I'm sure I have every possibility thought out...". I don't just jump in with both feet and get involved. I plan and plan and plan. And then I plan some more. Never getting to the doing part of the plan.

Since January, I've been slowly working my way through the lessons in Julie N. Gordon's Wife School. They are emailed to me every week. I read the accompanying chapter in her book, take notes, consider how they apply (or don't) to my own life and marriage, and then I read and respond to the lessons and assignments that she sends me.

I've filled nearly an entire spiral notebook with my thoughts, and I've changed my behavior because of it to some degree. But, more than anything, I'm changing and shaping my mind and soul. I'm shifting my perceptions...slowly. I know if I move too quickly, it won't stick. It won't become my truth. And to create or shift my life-view, I must truly believe in my decisions and they become part of my very being...habitual...natural.

Parts of submission are already very natural to me. And I know that I can no more deny those tendencies than I can force myself to fit them in a particular box to meet the needs of an already constructed label. But, as an introverted academic who grew up as an only child and into a writer and poet, I can say, I spend far too much time thinking about it, and not nearly enough time doing anything about it.

Getting out of my own head is hard.

I've always been one of those people who aren't willing to do things unless I understand WHY I'm doing them. This is why math was always so hard for me. And why organized religion is a sore spot. And why submission didn't work the first few times my husband and I tried it. See, there you go...submission was an IT to be IT to be tried. We didn't just let it be what IT already was...because submission is just part of who we are as a couple. I naturally take the role...while he naturally takes the lead.

However, like most humans, we have had a need to define it and categorize it. Why? Well, because we humans like to understand things. We like to know why we are doing things. And we like to know we are reading the same story...following the same instruction manual.

For a man and wife to really work together, there has to be a plan. We are joining together to create a union that is for a purpose. What is that purpose? For all of us, it's different. It is the job of the couple to decide.

These next few weeks, I'm taking a break from my lessons. I'm taking a break from focused analysis and introspection. It's time to DO something with what I've learned. It's time to share.

I've been sitting here in my office four hours over the past months, contemplating my marriage and what it means to me...considering my husband's deepest soul needs...MY deepest soul needs...what an amazing marriage for US would look like, defining my idea of an ideal relationship. And after receding from the edge of the divorce cliff, I've been contemplating the compromises that MUST be made for US to work.

I had to begin with the questions "What matters most?" and "What am I willing to do to obtain or keep that?" I suppose that's the basis of compromise, yes?

What matters most is my marriage and family. What am I willing to do? It's easy (and untrue) to say anything. But, I could honestly say almost anything.

I had to follow those questions up with these: "What does my husband need most (from me)?" and "What do I need most (from my husband)?

Those lists were what drew me back to where I am now. Because my submission is the basis of many of both of our needs. It's the central nervous system of a this complicated being called "husband and wife."

And that's where I find myself today...reviving it.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

From the ashes

At the start of this year, my husband and I hit a wall. It's not that we hadn't seen it coming...quite possibly for years...but at the end of January, he actually came right out and said the words, "I want a divorce." There wasn't a "maybe" attached. No "I think..." Just the worst words a woman who still loves her husband never wants to hear. I...want...a...divorce.

The problem (or maybe the blessing?) - he didn't really want a divorce. He wanted change.

And that is why I'm in this place. That's what's motivating all of the soul-searching. It's not necessarily desperation, though there's definitely a component of that vested in the bud of this slowly blossoming flower I call my marriage.

Every human relationship is different. The reason for them, what we get from them, how we nurture them. They are all different. There are various genres or categories of human connection, and within those, there are societal expectations about how each should be developed and cared for. But we all know that "expectation" is perched high on the pedestal of fallacy. As soon as we expect...those expectations will become surprises or disappointments. Because we're human, after all. And as logical as some try to be, our souls get in the way of our mechanics. What should be isn't always what is. And what is takes precedent over desire. As true as we want something to be, that truth isn't always what we were looking for.

And in my case (as with many), even though my heart (and desire) led me into the arms of my soul-mate, it didn't necessarily equip me to live there. In fact, I'd argue that none of us are born equipped to live in the arms of another. Some of us aren't even equipped to live in our own.

That's what makes marriage such a beautiful and complicated leap of faith. We jump, full of expectations that we either know or don't know we will have to give up, into a world of our own creation.

That's what a relationship is, after all, isn't it? A world we make up? The rules, the styles of communication, a host of shared experience that turn into a history?

I've had to think a lot about that over the past few months. All that history. All those expectations. Communication.

And what did I truly want? Not...what could I live with? But, rather...what could I not live without?

It came down to this. Him.

This is not about co-dependency. This is about a sober choice made in lucidity.

I had to change. I have to evolve. I have to let go of everything I thought marriage should become his wife.