Many a tear has to fall

Today I read this:

I had a scene once. I had been playing pretty much all day..with a spanking here or there with close friends.

Then another close friend that I trusted agreed to single tail me. And it hurt…and I cried. It didn’t hurt in the ouch too hard way. It hit something cathartic I cant explain and the tears just flowed. I trusted my friend, my walls were down and the sensation of crack searing my flesh was over powering. Like it hit my soul.

And I cried out and I cried–the tears flowed and I felt silly that I couldn’t stop them. I wasn’t sad–it was more a relief emotion.

And my friend showed instant concern and care–softly rubbing my back, whispering softly, asking me if I was ok.

My response shocked me. But with some sorta bravado and a giggle as the tears continued like a waterfall…I asked “Do tears scare you?”

And with a hint of a smile, and a very Domly voice commanded me to “Turn Around!” (That was hot!!)

And we went deeper–three rounds deep until I was uncontrollably and freely sobbing. To say it was wonderful to be able to trust and open up that much is an understatement.

Sometimes when I cry now, I remember this day. Not all tears are bad.

This made me think about the times I have cried during play. About how it makes me feel that I’m weak. About how ashamed I am that I failed to be strong. About how crying makes me feel less “hard core”. About how this often happens with my back turned. About how I dread the moment I turn around because I know there are people watching and I’m a mess.

There were several comments on the post, a good many of which stated that the one commenting had never cried during play usually followed with “I wish I could”. Not a single person said they didn’t want to cry, or that they are embarrassed when they do. A few said they find it, or would find it, cathartic. Cathartic!? I don’t get that at all. How is failure perceived as catharsis?

I can remember the early days of play when there were no tears. I wonder what’s changed. Is the play significantly more challenging now? Is it somehow more emotional? Is the pain that much more intense? Am I no longer guarded? Is it a combination of all of these? Is it something else entirely? I wonder if I could prevent the tears if I wanted to, but then, they aren’t a conscious choice. There have been times that I’ve not been aware of them. It just … happens. How do I prevent something that I’m not consciously aware of? Should I even try? Does it matter?


What change may come

Given that it’s New Year’s Eve I can’t help but think about the past year with You. It is amazing to me how much has changed. You and I often talk about how much I have changed. Tonight I was wondering if the changes in You have been as radical. Everyone changes every day. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Holy crap, I can’t believe I just did that or It finally happened. type changes. I’m betting Our experiences together have been things You’ve done many times before and, therefore, the change for You would be minimal.

I’m looking forward to spending the coming year with You … I consider it an appetizer to the rest of Our lives.

Today I am grateful for: quiet
Today’s funny moment: n/a
Sad moment:
Protocol: n/a
Water: 4.5 liters
Corset: n/a
Hood: 1 hour


We have observed some situations in Our play that scare me. These things also seem to be arousing. I have been giving this a great deal of thought. I’m wondering if it is the fear or the thing behind it: The knowledge that You own me and can do whatever You wish with me.

I know it was, in fact, You exercising Your ownership of me when I struggled with asking for the shocker, that was incredibly erotic and had me all wet and bothered. Pussy and brain were vehemently opposed. Being property, being Yours, won. I believe it always will.

Today I am grateful for: better living through pharmaceuticals
Today’s funny moment: Sitting with LM in a treatment room waiting for the doctor “There I go again” (He said this with a heavy sigh) “What’s wrong, Bud?” “Nothing, Mom. It’s another erection.”
Sad moment: The decline of my back with housework
Protocol: n/a
Water: 5 liters
Corset: not worn – back pain
Hood: n/a

That Word

A while back … what seems like a very long time ago, You began identifying me as Your fucktoy. The word made me uncomfortable – so uncomfortable that I had difficulty doing nothing more than agreeing with You. I expect that You knew this. You didn’t ask me to say it for at least a month, and it may have been longer than that. I had become used to hearing it by the time You asked me to speak it. Saying it then was as challenging as hearing it had been at the start.

Dealing with fucktoy was rough because that word fuck has always been a “bad” word. A word I only said when furious or in a great deal of pain. There was nothing positive about it. DH knew if I was, to use his vernacular, dropping F bombs, that he had better tread very lightly. It took a great deal of time for me to view it as a good thing – to see it as something I wanted to be.

Now this. This word cunt, perhaps the most offensive term a woman can be called. A word that I have never used. A word that when said on a very rare occasion by DH, conversation will halt, I will raise an eyebrow and he will apologize. A word that is only ever assigned to a person if they are being insulted. You had me say that word about myself and I felt dirty. I don’t know how else to describe it, and believe me, I’ve spent some time working on this. Even with everything You and I have said and done with each other, I was embarrassed to speak that way in front of You – ashamed to refer to myself in that way.

I had barely choked out the words. Still awash in the emotion they invoked and You said a thing that I want to pretend I didn’t hear … It will get easier the more you say it.

Today I am grateful for: progress
Today’s funny moment: What kind of computer do you have … and please, don’t say  ‘a white one’.
Sad moment: yet another phone call from the school
Protocol: n/a
Water: 4 liters
Corset: 24.5 am, 24 pm
Hood: 1 hour

Still Pushing

I keep revisiting the clamps with which You began Our play. I revisit the clamps and something You said after the fact about leaving them on even though they were, as always, extremely painful. I experience them easily as a 6 or 7, albeit highly localized.

I loathe those things. I have been quite vocal about that fact. Experiencing them for as long as I did did not change my mind. If anything, my opinion has been confirmed. I adore that You did what You wanted to do with me in spite of how I reacted. I do not ever want to drive a scene. My reactions are naked honesty. I have not, nor will I ever, “play act” a response in an attempt to top from the bottom.

I dispensed with safe words a long time ago, regardless of the type of play (no limits session, public play, etc.) Pain never killed anyone. I don’t enjoy the pain. I do enjoy the challenge it presents. I trust that You know me, my body, and how I react well enough at this point that I don’t need to say anything.The obvious disclaimer here is that if something odd is going on I of course inform You.

What I’m trying to say, in a round about way, is thank you. Thank you for continuing to push, for never letting me get comfortable, for not allowing Our play to have a predictable routine, for still having the ability to scare the bejeezus out of me. Thank you for being You. Thank you for shoving me further into who I am.

I can’t get enough of playing with You. I don’t ever want to stop.

Today I am grateful for: Robitussin
Today’s funny moment: How do you meet a swan?
Sad moment: Nope. It’s not allergies.
Protocol: n/a
Water: 5 liters
Corset: n/a – sick
Hood: n/a – sick