What love sounds like

“I enjoy you.”
A key in the front door at the end of a long day
A Private Caller ring tone
“Mom, you’re the best mom I ever had!”
“You are forbidden to plan.”
The slap of a palm on a bare bottom
“I’ll take care of it for you.”
My heart pounding because of Him
The dishwasher running when I didn’t start it
“I like you.”
A message alert in the middle of the night
“What’s wrong?”
Those songs with killer lyrics that I can’t help but sing for Him every. single. time.
“Good girl.”

Then v. Now

I never thought I would play with others. I had a long conversation in DramaFree regarding how it would never happen. I listened to other subs talk about public play spaces, playing in front of others and could not understand the attraction. Play was a private thing and none of anyone else’s business. Slave was not in my plans. It was for other subs. Those with no sense of self. Those who had no direction for themselves. Beyond spanking, pain was not something I was interested in. Mild discomfort was ok now and then to make things interesting but nothing more than that. I was fiercely independent. I did my own thing. My behavior was mine. I conducted myself as I saw fit.

I’m frustrated that I cannot find a public play space that fits my schedule. I want to explore. I am Poly. I have an impossibly deep connection with another. I am just as strong. What I want is not as important as His happiness. I’m dancing around the word Slave. Denying the word is becoming more difficult. His hands have teased me. His hands, for a brief time, brought pain and pleasure. His tongue has been in my mouth. Others watched this interaction. I not only liked that we were seen, but I crave more. I’m still not sure how I would feel about disrobing in front of anyone other than my One but now I am not repulsed. Now it intrigues me. Now it makes me nervous because I can see it happening in the future. I can see Him asking and me replying in the affirmative because it will make Him happy. For no other reason than that. He enjoys inflicting pain. I will let Him – not because I am any more enthusiastic about being hurt but, again, because it will please Him. Several behaviors are no longer my own. They have been shaped in accordance with His wishes. He is not here. He would never know if I didn’t perform our rituals. I would know. It would dishonor both of us. It would taint who we are to each other, for each other. What I do for Him will never be enough to adequately demonstrate my level of commitment to Him. Now we have each other.


To avoid three weeks of “I miss you” entries, I’m trying some journal prompts. Today’s is: List as many questions from childhood as you can in five minutes.

  • When your pupil dilates, where does the color go?
  • When I rub my head why is it so loud?
  • If it’s that loud, how come I’m the only one who can hear it?
  • Why are fish slimy?
  • Is it the slime that makes them so smelly?
  • Why do you have to turn on the turn signal in the car but not have to turn it off?
  • How does the car know you’ve gone around the corner?
  • How do you know if the steering wheel is pointing straight?
  • Why do worms have that bump-thing when the rest of them is straight?
  • How do airplanes stay in the sky?
  • Why do we get goose bumps and where do they come from?
  • Where do the bubbles in soda come from and why do they always start at the bottom of the glass?
  • Why is soap slippery?

submissive v. slave

This has been following me around the last couple of days. M/s postings on K&P. Room pops debating the differences. Articles popping up when I’m doing protocol research … It’s all been churning around in my head. Not even really processing, more like affirmations.

I’ve been mostly thinking about how much I have changed since May. You, your presence in my life has changed me. I never wanted the whole “slave” deal. I wanted my choices. I was firmly submissive. No more, no less. I felt that submitting was more than enough.

This … with you …

Simple submission is not enough. I cannot explain it, why it is this way with you. I didn’t understand the depth of my trust/willingness/commitment to you until we stumbled upon my issue with belts.

That night when I sat down to rummage through the past, each thing I listed I thought “but this is Sir … is it even worth listing this trigger … it’s Sir … he will not harm me”. I listed them anyway because it was what you had asked of me. Then … not long after I had nearly fallen to pieces at the thought of a belt around my neck again, I thought “It’s Sir. He won’t harm me. If this belt thing is important to him, work through it for him.” On the heels of that “Whoa!! ‘Work through it?!’ Someone tried to kill you with that and you want to ‘work through it’ because it might mean something to Sir? Are you sure you want to make that offer? … because, ya know, he might just take you up on it.” I thought about it for a few minutes. I imagined myself in front of you. You, with a belt in your hands, raising it to put it over my head … settling it around my neck. It did bother me but not enough to withhold the offer to allow it.

You often say to me “I have you”. I’m quick to agree with you. You do have me. I did not realize just how much, until I imagined you with a belt in your hands and decided to cautiously invite that back into my life simply because it might make you happy.

Days later I’m still shaking my head in wonder that I feel this for you, with you. It’s fantastically terrifying and I’m loving every second of it.

Pain and Gentility

A couple of days ago, during the post mortem of our goodbye, I said that one of the things that made it so good was that I was tired of being treated as if I’m fragile. You did not treat me that way. You, of course, jumped all over the fragile comment. You made one of your famous notes and proceeded to make me nervous by saying “Remember you said that”… more than once, if I recall correctly. Those couple of lines of conversation have haunted me ever since. I’m not sure if you intended for me to be bothered or if you really did mean what you said. (You’re giggling, aren’t you?) I’m hoping journaling about what I meant will allow me to stop obsessing.

What I was saying is that, though I’m not into pain per se, I do crave/need the pleasure/pain contrast. I enjoy it more when the intensities are close to even. If they don’t balance, instead of being complimentary, the stronger of the two becomes an issue. If the pain is stronger it can obliterate the pleasure entirely. If the pleasure wins out for very long, it’s nice and everything but, in my mind, it slides the scale to kinky-vanilla instead of D/s. That really doesn’t work for me. (Not that I’m under any delusions that this is all about me.)

In summation, I’m only just beginning to discover my affection for pain. I didn’t mean that I want be beaten without thought. I meant that I need intensity from both sides of the spectrum. I trust you to know how much is enough.