His Princess

Wednesday nights Crusoe and I have about 90 minutes of unadulterated kid-free time.  Not only that but at a time when we are actually awake. Miracles never cease!

We have a laundry list of things that need to be done around the house, a ton of family obligations, a bazillion items that require our attention and “need” to be addressed. Hell, we would be happy to just cuddle on the couch for 90 minutes and watch something mindless on the TV (I seriously don’t know why we pay for cable.)

Crusoe and I are fortunate in so many ways, we are D/s 24/7.  We live in a very active kink community.  We could attend a kink event every night if we wanted.  Unfortunately, with full-time jobs, kids from seniors in college to 6th grade, we don’t always have much time to dedicate to D/s or kink.  Sure, Crusoe gets an alarming number of blowjobs, and we are sex-positive, but finding time to “scene” is a challenge.  We would love nothing more than to practice ties or spank with wild abandon, but damn, we’re decidedly middle-aged and there are only so many hours in the day.  

Tonight, Crusoe texted me from the road:  get out the floggers, strip, put on ankle and wrist cuffs and wait.  Damn.  My pussy got wet just reading that text.  I was fiddling with the last wrist cuff as he walked through the door.

No words were spoken.

He pulled me to the chain that dangles from the hard point, latched my wrists to a carabiner.

Picked up a flogger.

For the next 90 minutes, we talked while he flogged me.

There are probably five or six different floggers in his toolbox.  He went through them all.  We talked, really TALKED about them all as he worked me over.

He tried different techniques, levels of force, areas of my body, tools.  It was a period of instruction for us both.

It was fucking amazing.

Quite honestly – the most orgasmic breast flogging I’ve ever had.  Sweet baby Jesus.  Mind you. I’ve had my nipples lopped off and reattached.  My boobs are named “Frankenboobs” for a reason – they are frightfully scarred from my armpits to nipple.  (sorry for the visual) Wow.  Crusoe flogged them with such delightful skill.  It has been 18 months since my breast surgery and I’ve avoided all play. Hell, I’ve avoided even letting the “girls” loose, nobody sees them.

Ultimately, it was such a cool experience for us both.  I was able to honestly communicate with him without fear of hurting his feelings or the dreaded stigma of “topping from the bottom.”

There are so many “one true way” about how to do D/s or kink.  

What a crock.  The only one true way is between you and your Sir.

Tonight, my Sir, the man who loves me, walked me through a beating.  Why?  Because he wants to get me where I need to be.

He knows I’m a heavy bottom. Crusoe knows I’m a masochist.  He knows I can endure whatever he dishes out.

The difference?

Crusoe wants me to fly.

He doesn’t want me to just tolerate it.  

No.

He wants his Ampersand to relish and enjoy every stinging strike, every thuddy whack.

Crusoe will paint a constellation of stars across my body and know that I loved every stroke.

So tonight, in 90 minutes, he talked me through it.  More importantly, he LISTENED.

Next time, when we have a bit more than 90 minutes, it is going to be freaking amazing.

Crusoe leads.  I follow.

In my wedding vows I promised to love, honor and cherish you. It’s amazing how easily those rolled off my tongue when I really didn’t understand them. I want to redo it. I want to fully understand my vows and for you to understand the impact. First I promise to love you. I promise to love you when the days are hard, when I am stressed, emotional, or mad. I promise to love you on days you are stressed, emotional or mad. Being submissive means my desire is to love and serve you. I choose to enter this way of living and I find comfort in our roles. I promise I will love you with all that I am every day.

I promise to honor you. I promise to be the best wife, friend, and companion for you. I promise to always do my best to shine for you. I promise to honor you by excelling in my career, being truthful, and by working to improve our relationship daily. I ask that you honor me by continuing to be my guiding light, my strength, and my safe place. I love taking care of you and I promise to honor you with all that I am.

In traditional wedding ceremonies they have changed the word obey to cherish. The word obey has a negative connotation in the world now, but I choose to take the word obey back. Obeying you does not mean I do not have opinions, dreams, or disagreements. Obeying you means that my desire to build you and our relationship up is stronger than anything else. I know that you will continue to put my needs ahead of your own and that your instructions are only there for us to be better. I know that you obey me too. You take my vows seriously and obey my desire to be held accountable to them.

I ask of you a few things. On days I’m struggling pull me closer and in days you are struggling I’ll pull closer to you. This lifestyle is hard. It requires work and I promise to you to put that work in daily. Sometimes this will be painful and challenging. Other times it will be about the spankings and blow jobs. I ask that you continue to learn, grow and develop. As the seasons of life change I know we will change but I am looking forward to our journey together. I ask that you continue to love me more every day. I will strive daily to love you, honor you and obey with all that I am.

@cynicaldom told me to start washing a load of towels. I did, but I realized the dryer had clothing left in it that included some of his clothing. Shit. I have a rule that says I can’t leave clothing in the dryer. I bring it to the living room and fold it just a few feet from him. He doesn’t say anything. I was surprised he didn’t notice. I knew he had been struggling with depression. He’s always a bit less aware or focused when he’s depressed. I wish I would have been more understanding, but instead, I was childish. I thought that if he wasn’t going to notice then why should I get in trouble over it? If he doesn’t notice then it doesn’t matter, right? Wrong, of course. Him not noticing doesn’t change what I’ve committed to. But in my grumpy mood, I convinced myself not to confess. 

I essentially stayed in that headspace for two weeks, off and on. “It doesn’t matter” became my excuse to ignore a variety of little rules and details. There were at least half a dozen little rules broken. The dog food container got left open. I neglected to pick up a couple of glasses that were in the living room when I did the dishes (it’s supposed to be all of them, every time). I made the executive decision to take something off my schedule when I should have gotten his approval. I didn’t finish my last glass of water one night. Some of them were genuine mistakes. I found myself surprised at how quickly I lost focus on the details, how easily I overlooked things once I knew he wasn’t watching as closely as usual. A couple weren’t just accidents. A couple were tantrums because I was frustrated by his slight change in presence and convinced myself I was somehow justified, that him slipping a bit accidentally meant I could toss things aside on purpose. 

One day he noticed he hadn’t seen me eating much and asked me to tell him what all I had ate that day. I told him. It was one junk meal and a couple of snacks. He was asking me near bedtime. He made me eat a yogurt before going to bed, which I struggled with a little bit. I tried wrinkling my nose and sort of shrugging off the conversation. He stared at me until I responded to his questions, and kept on me when I said I would eat a yogurt but didn’t stand up to go get one. It occurred to me that I was giving into his will, I was submitting - in this way that isn’t a requirement or a routine. I was a little whiny about it, but I wasn’t about to consider saying “it doesn’t matter.” or trying to truly reject his leadership in this way. The reason was, he was watching, and I would never disobey him when he’s watching…because I know he cares and wouldn’t let anything slide if he saw it in the sense of truly noticing it. 

I also started realizing how during my two-week tantrum, I kept doing all the big things. The dishes, my workouts, following all direct instructions. I do these things always because they are obvious, they can’t go unnoticed. I did the big, obvious chores because I knew I’d be in major hot water if I didn’t because he’d see it. I never doubt that if he catches something he’ll follow through, because I know he cares. So it’s ridiculous that I could convince myself if he didn’t notice me acting out, silently and in the shadows, that meant it didn’t matter. 

Reality set in, and I knew it would be painful but I had to confess. I knew I would break his heart. I expected a pretty rough punishment. I expected serious disappointment. It took me a couple of days to find the courage, and it only came after he kept asking me what was up. He knew there was something I wasn’t saying and started trying to crack my shell. So I cracked, but we had been messing around and laughing moments before. So it came out in a tone of voice and in a setting that felt really inappropriate for how serious the situation was. 

I told him something like “I’ve done a lot of stupid little things that you haven’t noticed. I know you’ve been depressed and that’s why and I’m sorry.” his eyes just seemed so blank. He was so quiet. I wanted to cry but I just wasn’t vulnerable enough to let it out. The air was just so tense and awkward. I eventually asked him what he was thinking and he said “I don’t know” and I knew he really had no idea what to think or feel. It worried me. I’m not used to seeing him thrown off like that. I didn’t know how to feel about his reaction. It gave me anxiety. I told him “I like you” which is our ‘I love you’. He said it back earnestly, nodding and looking me deep in the eyes. I know he’s trying to reassure me but my anxiety ran away with me anyway. The next two days are awkward. He’s quiet and withdrawn, more than is typical when he is depressed, he seems lost more than anything. He never said anything to me other than he didn’t know how he felt about what I confessed. So I don’t know for sure what he is thinking or feeling. I just kind of push through, waiting on a response, trying not to let my thoughts run wild. The second morning, he wakes up after I do. He calls me into the bedroom to cuddle. This is typically common for us, but it hadn’t happened in a while so it feels like coming home. I massage him and we cuddle. He’s more talkative, he is clearly feeling better. I’m happy to feel more like us but I’m so confused about how we never talked through what happened. I hate not having clarity. I hate feeling like this huge mistake is stuck between us. 

We go on to have a good day that feels pretty normal. When he comes out of the bedroom holding his belt I don’t realize what his plans are at first. He motions for me to stand up and he takes off my leggings and panties. I step towards the arm of his chair, assuming he’ll put me over it but he sits down instead. I realize the belt is folded really short. ‘Oh…wait..’ I think as it starts to occur to me what is going on. We play in the living room once in a while, but always bent over the furniture, not over his knee. I don’t think he’s ever used his belt for punishment. It’s new territory all around, but my gut knows where it’s headed. As I go over his knee I bend my arm across my lower back, in place for him to hold it. Hoping proactive submission may help somehow. I imagine my expression would have been comical to watch because the first blow is shockingly painful. I don’t really have coherent thoughts for the first few blows, I’m just in shock at the intensity. He pauses and says “When you disobey me when I am depressed you are not being my partner.” and I go from being unable to think about anything but the pain, to being unable to think of anything but those words. I’m instantly sobbing.

 In these two days of awkward distance since I confessed, and in the day or two of worrying before confessing, I’ve felt very guilty. I’ve felt ashamed of how childish, selfish and immature I’ve been. I’ve been disappointed in myself for not digging deeper to stay the course and act like I should until he got feeling better. But I hadn’t thought of it quite the way he put it. It hadn’t quite hit me that skirting the little rules, and the details of rules when I know he wouldn’t notice wasn’t just blowing off our D/s, it was rejecting him. I wasn’t partnering with him in our D/s, I wasn’t supporting him or his dominance over me. Once we had a question sent in for the podcast about whether or not we could go back to being vanilla now. He said no, and explained how D/s allows us to connect more intimately than we could before. Going back wouldn’t work because D/s is how we connect the deepest, it is the core of our intimacy. That’s why blowing off the rules is rejecting him, and us. I sob through the spanking, and I think he’s starting to let up as he almost pauses, but he just sighs and then tightens his grip on my arm that he’s holding and lays into me even harder for a handful of more to finish it off. He lets me cry over his lap for a bit and then he tells me to stand. His voice isn’t soft yet, I know something is up, I know we aren’t done but I don’t know what that means.

He guides me towards a corner. I’ve never done cornertime before. We’ve talked about the possibility. We’ve talked about how for a typical mistake, it may make me run away with guilt too much, how I don’t usually need help with headspace in a punishment. We talked about how if I were to be angry when I should feel guilty, maybe corner time would be used. I knew this tool was in his toolbox, but he’s never felt the need to use it. I’m not angry now, I’m already feeling guilty, this isn’t to get me into a new emotion. I know it’s just to make me sit with the feeling I already have. With both of his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me he talks into my ear. “ You’re going to stand here for 20 minutes. Unless it gets to be too much, then you come sit on my lap.” I can’t find my voice so I just nod. 

It wasn’t what I thought it would be, or how I’ve read it feels to other submissives. It’s hot and sticky to cry with your nose in a corner, your breath bouncing back on your face. I’ve read about how embarrassing it is, like the embarrassment is the real punishment. It didn’t really occur to me that my whipped ass was on display until I adjusted my arms across my back and my fingers felt the heat off my butt. I’ve heard people say the boringness of staring at a wall is the punishing part. I didn’t get bored. I was consumed with my thoughts. I just stood there crying for 20 minutes, thinking about how this was a huge mistake. Easily my biggest failing this year, probably in two years. Thinking about how I hurt my Daddy so much it took him two days to process it himself and to deal with me. How I disappointed him, and how he was surprised at what I’ve done because he thinks higher of me than this. How I hurt our relationship. I tried to think of what I could say to him once I was done. Towards the end I started to calm down a bit. My eyes and throat itched, my stomach hurt - but the crying was cleansing too. As difficult as it was, I realized while still standing in the corner that I’m lucky that he’s willing to punish me because I need the catharsis. 

He physically pulled me from the corner at the end, and onto his lap. I buried my head in his neck and my hand into his beard. Having no physical distance between us was comforting, but sensing how the emotional gap had disappeared felt far better. I cried more. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t watching you closer. This is all done now. It’s over.” he said. I cried harder. It took me a while to find my voice. “I’m sorry.” I finally squeaked out. “Oh, I know you are.” he said in a voice so soft and genuinely that it hurt. I tried finding words but couldn’t. “No. It’s done. It’s over.” he said in response to seeing me try to find something to say. I shook my head. “I know. I do. But I just want to say that I appreciate you. It’s awful. I know it must be hard for you. I’m sorry for making you do this. I mean..not ‘making’ you? But..just..for putting us in this situation where it’s needed? I don’t know how to say it right..” he said he understood my point. We sat together for a long time. 

At first, all I saw was how she did me wrong. I had been depressed, I thought my emotional pain was not validated and accounted for, only my failures were. She should have came to me and voiced her dissatisfaction. Hell, she was trying to coerce me with guilt into acting the way she wanted by acting out!

It took a couple days, but I fought past my anger and eventually came to a different conclusion.

My anger mostly subsided when I considered her perspective. I was less present when I was depressed, I paid less attention to her when I was in a head space where she thought that I start to shut down things I found burdensome.

I had communicated to her that being her Dominant was a burden.

And I expected her to come to me with her dissatisfaction, to explicitly say to me aloud that she needed more of what I apparently found burdensome, when I was already hurting. What recourse had I really left her, knowing her as I do? She didn’t know what to do, she froze, and she acted out of instinct. She did not consciously & passive-aggressively lash out at me with the intent to coerce me, she just fucked up.

Depression is not actually a head space where you eliminate things you consider burdensome, it’s a head space where you cannot easily see over the horizon of effort. You become self-centered to a fault, your mind believes it needs all of it’s energy to process what it’s experiencing.

Being her Dominant is not a burden, this process has helped me come out of my fog, as it has before. A burden is hole you throw effort into without exchange.

All this does not absolve her wrong doing. I have made sure she knows, in her heart, that coming to me directly with her needs will never be an attack on me. Making sure her needs and my needs are met will never be a place where we struggle for power.

But, and again, it’s a big but, that is very easy to say in theory. It’s another thing to come to your depressed Dom and discuss how your needs are not being met while not wanting to hurt them. I put her in a hard spot! Yes, we both fucked up, but I share responsibility in her fuckup.

I am not writing this to excoriate myself, to say I do not deserve understanding in a time of weakness. But I signed up to hold myself to a higher standard. I will never be an infallible arbiter of two people’s destiny, but I can get closer with each failure. That requires not hating myself for my failures, but above all, not excusing myself for them either. And that’s not just on the Dom side, she can’t excuse her mistakes either, and I’m proud of her that she doesn’t.

When I spanked her, I communicated how I felt hurt in a single sentence that I knew she would understand. I said when I’m depressed and you disobey me you’re not my partner. She understood instantly. My feelings were validated.

I felt betrayed that she did not factor in the pain I was going through when she acted out, that she didn’t come talk to me instead. But she felt betrayed when I turned inward to nurse my wounds, when I forgot about her.

Crusoe is a Coastie. I am a Marine.

While both of us have spent pretty much our entire adult life in the military, there are some distinct differences (Hello, Captain Obvious!)

Crusoe came home tonight from a week on the road.  Unfortunately, there were many house chores that weren’t completed (not his requirement, but mine.)

Once I got dinner in the oven I went in to make the bed.  Crusoe came in to help… mostly he came in to talk (Yay, I’ve missed him so!  But Oh My.)

I have a very specific way of making the bed.  I make the bed like I make a rack.  Pulled tight. Crisp corners.  90 degree angles on folds.  I am so lucky, I happen to have exactly 12 inch forearms (from elbow to bent pinky), so I don’t even need to measure before I fold down the top sheet. I feel compelled to explain that there should be 18 inches of sheet showing on the top of the bed, including the folded down blanket.  Anyway….

He made his side.  I scowled, then came around the bed and redid his corners and smoothed the top cover, then moved onto the pillows.

Pillow cases get tucked into themselves, then pulled tight, and shaken to make sure everything is flush at the bottom, then pulled tight again.  Again, there need to be 90 degree angles at the corners.

The king-sized pillows are placed horizontally to the bed, then the queen pillows are placed in the center, perpendicularly on top of the king pillows.  There is one extra pillow, in a special case, that gets placed in the middle of all the other pillows.

I’m shaking my head thinking of the (ahem) challenges when Crusoe “helped.”  Everything was catawampus!   He joked that in the Coast Guard they didn’t worry so much about how the rack was made, he just made the rack once, then slept on top.  (I rolled my eyes… to myself)

I love, love, love that he wants to help.  I love that he recognizes what a big task it is to maintain a home, raise a child, work full-time (plus), and also serve.

No one will argue with me that I am fortunate.  Hell. Take the D/s out of it.  I have a partner willing to help.  I have a Sir that helps… a lot.  Please don’t mistake this post for complaining.

I just think it’s hilarious how different our views on bed-making are…. And how much of that was shaped by our time in the military, albeit different services.

The Marines are rather notorious for their regimentation.  I appreciate that.  I’ve said it before, who doesn’t love a sub with OCD?  Throw in Marine Corps training and I’m one notch shy of sleeping with the enemy.

I had to laugh, and love him even more, when he looked at me like I was from outer space for doing the pillowcases the way I did today.  But for the first time, I think he truly saw why the bed looks the way it does every night.

Coastie?  Marine?  In the end, it matters not.

Yeah.  Don’t do it.

There is no amount of justification, qualification, whatever-if-ication that justifies the pain and betrayal of cheating.

Here we are in this cozy BDSM world where consent it king.  Right? Consent is our Bible, our defining ethos.

So… cheating is not BDSM.

Cheating is not D/s.

Cheating is the antithesis of everything that open and honest communication means.

I’m not talking about poly. I admire poly and the folks that can make it work.

Cheating is cheating. Poly is something entirely different.

When folks write about how the “other woman” suffers.  Fuck that. The other woman knows exactly what she’s doing.  That cunt knows that she is providing some sort of alternative to the wife, to the submissive, to the slave.

When folks write that “there must be something the wife/submissive/slave isn’t doing.”

Yeah.  Fuck that as well.  

Here’s the deal: people cheat and that sucks.

But when the other person (spouse/sub/slave) doesn’t know that there is another person satisfying every whim and desire that they don’t even know they’re failing to meet?  That’s bullshit.

It is EASY to be the fantasy submissive.  It is EASY to be magic.  It is fucking easy to show up online, on travel, on stolen moments.  It is frighteningly easy to be the person who shows up on stolen weekends, who sexts on the train, who satisfies every whim and fantasy.

Oh, you want to sleep next to him every night?  

Bullshit.

It is so freaking easy to make your limited time together magical.  

Why don’t you try holding a kid’s head while they shit and vomit everywhere.  Perhaps you could figure out how to stretch a nickel into a dime (when the asshole is spending money on his whore.)  Perhaps you could think about the commitment he made, that SHE made. Perhaps you could walk away when they are in counseling or just trying to make it work.  

Perhaps.  Just perhaps.  

And what makes you so special?

Do you really think that if he will cheat on his wife/submissive/slave that he won’t cheat on you?

Let me tell you.  

You are not magic. You don’t have a magic pussy, a magic ass, a magic mouth.

He has been lying to the woman he proclaimed to love/care for/guide.  What makes you think you are special or different?

Fuck the other woman.

You are a fool.  And he is an ass.

You want to be together?

How about an honest conversation.

There is no honor in cheating.  There is no possible justification for cheating.

Until then, you are all just fooling yourselves.

In all our time together, I only got the belt twice. The belt was for broken rules, reserved for the worst offenses. If I got mouthy or let protocol slip, he’d give me quiet reflection time. Kneeling with hands behind my back and nose to the wall, thinking about my actions until the timer went off. Then I’d write a letter detailing what I’d thought about and why my obedience mattered. 

But the belt was a different kind of correction. In position, no warm-up, full strength. The tears began almost instantly, progressing to screams and full-body sobs by the time he finished. And then he scooped me into his arms and held me so tightly I almost couldn’t breathe. I nuzzled against his chest as my heart rate began to slow. I closed my eyes and listened to his soft voice.

“Daddy’s here. All is forgiven. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

From the outside, punishment may be the hardest thing for people to understand about D/s relationships. Why would a strong, independent woman willingly submit to a man beating her for breaking what seems like arbitrary rules? I see three important functions for punishment. 

Remembering it’s not a game. This dynamic is built on responsibility and accountability. Dominants and submissives each have responsibilities to one another and to the dynamic. But nowhere is that more apparent than when a rule is broken. It’s easy to make a submissive wear a plug on a date or deny permission for an orgasm. But punishment is hard. It’s unpleasant. But without it, the dynamic is just dress-up. Being punished reminds me that the power exchange is real, and that I can trust my Dominant to hold me accountable. 

Reconnecting with my role. It’s rare for me to break rules. But when I do, it usually means that the connection hasn’t felt as present for me. I forget an instruction, or even worse, I question it. Then when I realize I’ve disobeyed, I feel even worse. It is hard for me to feel submissive with the cloud of disobedience over me. I’ve stepped outside my role. I struggle to connect with my Dominant because I know I did something to undermine the dynamic. 

By submitting to the punishment, I remember that I am choosing this. I remember that I don’t have to follow rules or submit to this person, but I choose this life because it fulfills me. I choose it because it’s how I feel loved and at peace. Punishment can be awful. But it reminds me why I kneel. It helps me to reconnect with my purpose.

Knowing I am worth the effort. It is so much easier for a Dominant not to punish their submissive. It’s easy to excuse the behavior. Maybe the submissive has been under a lot of stress or had a bad day. Maybe the Dominant hasn’t been as engaged as they’d like to be. But no matter the excuse, I need to know that I am worth the effort to correct. Perhaps that correction is a discussion, not a punishment; it’s not my place to decide what’s warranted. But I need my Dominant to acknowledge my misstep and take action accordingly. 

I feel awful when I break a rule. And if my Dominant doesn’t correct me, I feel unseen and unimportant. I need to know that my Dominant cares enough to hold me accountable. It’s easier to let it slide. But a good Dominant will choose the more difficult path because it’s better for me and for us in the long run. I put a lot of effort into my obedience, but I fall short sometimes. When I do, I need to know that my Dominant will step up. I need to know that love and ownership aren’t just for when I’m perfect. I need to know I am worth the effort to correct. 

especially this:

“It’s rare for me to break rules. But when I do, it usually means that the connection hasn’t felt as present for me.”

I grew up in turmoil. A dash of sexual abuse and a heaping spoonful of emotional abuse makes for mental issues. I learned very early to repress emotions and to hide what I feel. Some of that comes from not telling anyone about the sexual abuse for years and “playing normal” for years. It’s amazing how growing up religious made me more anxious about my sexual abuse because I thought I was broken. Additionally I developed OCD. It’s very hard to say that now because some people think it’s fun to say they are “so ocd” because they like their books alphabetized.

My ocd is awful . It’s all encompassing. It renders my brain incapable of determining what is real or not. So where a rational person is able to see tha A causes B. Ocd makes me feel that somehow I can control everything. The anxiety creeps in and I am left assuming the worst all the time. I assume everyone is doing things because they hate me. This is where I get stuck somedays thinking I’m hated, sending frantic messages that plead my suspected case, and generally making everything worse.

Wait so how does this apply to D/s or M/s? Well for me it is my lifeline. My Husband has the hard part. He often has to help repair the hurt feelings from my frantic emails. He often has to calm me down when I’m crazy. What is his not though is a vessel for me to get pain. I have always been one that when I’m overwhelmed a little bit of pain helps he focus on something else. He however is not a vessel for self harm. So when I was having a melt down last time and begged to be hurt he said no. He wasn’t going to allow me to hurt myself in any manner. It’s that that helps stop the destructive thinking. He is responsible for me in that I calm down, I’m responsible to listen to him and obey when he says no. And I do and I come back to reality. It’s really amazing honestly. D/s has improved that for me. He pushes my boundaries some on my obsessions or things that cause me anxiety in an effort to get me over them. He knows when to stop. He also knows when NOT to inflict pain as it isn’t healthy no matter how much I ask. It’s also on me to be honest with him and tell him when I struggling.

I hope this level of openness helps someone too. D/s is not all spankings and blow jobs. Sometimes it is a way for self improvement. Sometimes it is a way to help self-awareness. Sometimes it is a way to help your partner when they are struggling.

I am not an outdoor person. I honestly have camping on my hard limit list. We were hit with some storms that took down some branches. I was asked to pick them up. I certainly didn’t want to do it but I did it because I was “asked” (Not so much ask but command). I spent about an hour dragging limbs to a pile. All the while I thought about how this affected me in a power exchange relationship.

I walked back and forth thinking about how this was telling for the lifestyle and D/s and M/s relationships. I did not want to do it, it made me think some bad thoughts about being outside, but mostly I came to a big realization. This chore made his life easier, knowing I didn’t want to do it but did it anyway made him happy, and the fact that I did it without complaining made him estatic. Which in turn made me happy - weird I know. My pleasure comes from his pleasure. I love to make him happy and proud. I even did more than what was asked because I wanted to make him smile.

That dear friends is the joy of power exchange. My happiness is tied to his happiness. I suffer sometimes to make him happy but it is all for a reason. It’s not all about what happens in the bedroom. For both sides of the slash there are some important insights. It is the self-sacrifices you make to better your relationship. It’s about getting over yourself and really taking another person Into consideration. It is about building up not tearing down. I learned something in that task. He could and would have picked up this branches. However, by me picking them up he knew while I would hate it but would learn a valuable lesson about how my joy come from him. By the end of the task I was a smiling sweaty mess. Camping is still a hard limit though.

So our relationship has always been pretty good. There have been moments it has been rough but that is true in any relationship. Our relationship has improved in some interesting ways from becoming D/s. Here are a few of my casual observations.

1. A no phone at dinner rule. Well that’s pretty easy and it turns out we actually have things to say to each other. We went out for dinner the other night and I watched a couple next to us. They sat across from each other but were miles apart. They were more invested in their Social media than each other. We on the other hand were gloriously unaware of our friends views on politics and more aware of each other.

2. We like each other! I listen to coworkers talk about how horrible their spouses are, crap they wish the other one would do, and why they can’t believe their spouse is such an idiot when the conplaining coworker is obviously the best spouse ever. It has been a long term rule of mine to not complain about my husband to others, but once we had our relationship talks regarding D/s I don’t have much to complain about. Things that are bothering me or I question we talk about. Which makes for a healthy relationship.

3. A different level of knowledge about each other. We have been together 15 years so we know each other pretty well. However now I can read his face to know when something isn’t ok. He can read me to know if I’m ok. For me the unemotional kind I get emotional sometimes now just because I know how much he loves me. I’m planning on writing about my first play session in our dungeon and then about the time I went alone soon. But safe to say we have each other figured out some.

Motivation vs commitment

There is a difference between motivation and commitment. Look at it this way you decide to make a change and you are super excited about it. For example you go buy healthy foods, throw away temptations and spend hours googling recipes. Well several days later the cravings for the precious foods are back, you are tired, busy and you give in and fall off the wagon - hard. The motivation couldn’t overcome the problems. However if you are committed to the diet you take a deep breath and go “this sucks but I’m continuing on”. You power through your lack of motivation and stay on course for your ultimate goal.

This is true in all relationships. ALL OF THEM. You want them to work you have to be committed to making it work even when you aren’t motivated to do so. Your best friend ticks you off. Your husband forgets to pick up something for the millionth time. You aren’t motivated to be nice and loving but you are committed to not screwing up and throwing away that relationship.

I see this in the lifestyle a lot as well. I had sub frenzy something fierce. I wanted to see and try everything. I had motivation to do this but soon that newness wears off. The hard truth is some days it really sucks. I’m stressed out, I’m cranky, I’m anxiety addled. The last thing on my mind is how I can make my Husband’s life better. But I made a commitment to do this. So on days I want to quit or crawl under a rock are the days I have to hold hard to the commitment to our relationship and the goals we have set. Does it make it easy? No. Does it make the journey worthwhile? Yes. I press on because ultimately I know the goal I want.

How do you deal with a lack of motivation- make one choice and one choice only - to stay on track. Diets, exercise, relationships all have their moments. You may slip up but shake it off and start again. I’m guilty of this right now as I have slacked off some on my responsibilities. So with the determination to press on through hard times I’m going make a commitment to get better.

Motivation vs commitment

There is a difference between motivation and commitment. Look at it this way you decide to make a change and you are super excited about it. For example you go buy healthy foods, throw away temptations and spend hours googling recipes. Well several days later the cravings for the precious foods are back, you are tired, busy and you give in and fall off the wagon - hard. The motivation couldn’t overcome the problems. However if you are committed to the diet you take a deep breath and go “this sucks but I’m continuing on”. You power through your lack of motivation and stay on course for your ultimate goal.

This is true in all relationships. ALL OF THEM. You want them to work you have to be committed to making it work even when you aren’t motivated to do so. Your best friend ticks you off. Your husband forgets to pick up something for the millionth time. You aren’t motivated to be nice and loving but you are committed to not screwing up and throwing away that relationship.

I see this in the lifestyle a lot as well. I had sub frenzy something fierce. I wanted to see and try everything. I had motivation to do this but soon that newness wears off. The hard truth is some days it really sucks. I’m stressed out, I’m cranky, I’m anxiety addled. The last thing on my mind is how I can make my Husband’s life better. But I made a commitment to do this. So on days I want to quit or crawl under a rock are the days I have to hold hard to the commitment to our relationship and the goals we have set. Does it make it easy? No. Does it make the journey worthwhile? Yes. I press on because ultimately I know the goal I want.

How do you deal with a lack of motivation- make one choice and one choice only - to stay on track. Diets, exercise, relationships all have their moments. You may slip up but shake it off and start again. I’m guilty of this right now as I have slacked off some on my responsibilities. So with the determination to press on through hard times I’m going make a commitment to get better.

Motivation vs commitment

There is a difference between motivation and commitment. Look at it this way you decide to make a change and you are super excited about it. For example you go buy healthy foods, throw away temptations and spend hours googling recipes. Well several days later the cravings for the precious foods are back, you are tired, busy and you give in and fall off the wagon - hard. The motivation couldn’t overcome the problems. However if you are committed to the diet you take a deep breath and go “this sucks but I’m continuing on”. You power through your lack of motivation and stay on course for your ultimate goal.

This is true in all relationships. ALL OF THEM. You want them to work you have to be committed to making it work even when you aren’t motivated to do so. Your best friend ticks you off. Your husband forgets to pick up something for the millionth time. You aren’t motivated to be nice and loving but you are committed to not screwing up and throwing away that relationship.

I see this in the lifestyle a lot as well. I had sub frenzy something fierce. I wanted to see and try everything. I had motivation to do this but soon that newness wears off. The hard truth is some days it really sucks. I’m stressed out, I’m cranky, I’m anxiety addled. The last thing on my mind is how I can make my Husband’s life better. But I made a commitment to do this. So on days I want to quit or crawl under a rock are the days I have to hold hard to the commitment to our relationship and the goals we have set. Does it make it easy? No. Does it make the journey worthwhile? Yes. I press on because ultimately I know the goal I want.

How do you deal with a lack of motivation- make one choice and one choice only - to stay on track. Diets, exercise, relationships all have their moments. You may slip up but shake it off and start again. I’m guilty of this right now as I have slacked off some on my responsibilities. So with the determination to press on through hard times I’m going make a commitment to get better.

Motivation vs commitment

There is a difference between motivation and commitment. Look at it this way you decide to make a change and you are super excited about it. For example you go buy healthy foods, throw away temptations and spend hours googling recipes. Well several days later the cravings for the precious foods are back, you are tired, busy and you give in and fall off the wagon - hard. The motivation couldn’t overcome the problems. However if you are committed to the diet you take a deep breath and go “this sucks but I’m continuing on”. You power through your lack of motivation and stay on course for your ultimate goal.

This is true in all relationships. ALL OF THEM. You want them to work you have to be committed to making it work even when you aren’t motivated to do so. Your best friend ticks you off. Your husband forgets to pick up something for the millionth time. You aren’t motivated to be nice and loving but you are committed to not screwing up and throwing away that relationship.

I see this in the lifestyle a lot as well. I had sub frenzy something fierce. I wanted to see and try everything. I had motivation to do this but soon that newness wears off. The hard truth is some days it really sucks. I’m stressed out, I’m cranky, I’m anxiety addled. The last thing on my mind is how I can make my Husband’s life better. But I made a commitment to do this. So on days I want to quit or crawl under a rock are the days I have to hold hard to the commitment to our relationship and the goals we have set. Does it make it easy? No. Does it make the journey worthwhile? Yes. I press on because ultimately I know the goal I want.

How do you deal with a lack of motivation- make one choice and one choice only - to stay on track. Diets, exercise, relationships all have their moments. You may slip up but shake it off and start again. I’m guilty of this right now as I have slacked off some on my responsibilities. So with the determination to press on through hard times I’m going make a commitment to get better.