The Quote Challenge

I was over on Ms. Dixie Wrecked’s blog, Smiling Through the Evil, and saw that they had accepted a “Quote Challenge.”  They didn’t challenge anyone else, but when I read it, I thought, “Me, me, Call on me!!”   I love quotes – as you may have noticed!

So I took up the challenge, and then I didn’t do anything with it.  Which is kind of typical of me, honestly, as you might know.  But I didn’t forget about it!!

A day or two after i wrote about the changes in my life and how it felt, I ran across this quote:

“Butterflies are beautiful, but the process of emerging from the chrysalis and spreading your wings can hurt like fucking hell. But still, you will survive the transformation (over and over again) and you will fly. Remember this when it hurts the most. This is the metamorphosis, the going down to liquid, and the rising again. It’s no joke – but damn, it’s one hell of a journey.”
― Jeanette LeBlanc 

Don’t you love that?  It’s so frigging true…

Power Exchange Relationships

MP likes to watch TV while he works (yes, he can definitely do both.)  Since we don’t have cable, we don’t get a lot of channels, so he usually watches that channel that plays shows from the 50s and 60s, some from the 70s.  But all really old shows, some of them even before my time.  Father Knows Best, for goodness sake.  Dennis the Menace.

Sometimes, they catch my attention as I pass his open door, and I pause to watch a little bit before I shake my head – in amusement,  dismay, or occasionally disgust.  And I move on.  Occasionally, I am so fascinated and appalled that I end up watching longer than I intended – just like a train wreck, I think, as I tear myself away.

It’s a cultural potpourri, from the Patty Duke show to The Beverly Hillbillies to The Rifleman.  All the shows of my youth.  I know the theme songs, recognize the music and can sing along.  Sad to say, I remember some of the episodes.  (“Oh, isn’t that the one where Patti sells her necklace and then Cathy wants to borrow it…)

So it wasn’t unusual today when I heard a particular musical phrase and knew immediately that it was Bewitched.  That sound they would play when Samantha would wiggle her nose and do some magic.  Of course that made me think about Darren, her irritating husband who didn’t want her to do magic at all.   And she mostly went along with that. Her reward for that was what?  She got to clean house the mundane way?  She got to be married to him? Yikes.  It never had seemed like a good trade off to me, even back in the day.

Today, I had just finished reading the latest post on Smiling Through the Evil, so I had D/s relationships on my mind.  And it struck me that there is an element of power exchange in Bewitched.  Samantha has power, as we all do.  She agrees to let Darrin control it, she tamps it down and keeps it under wraps, because he wants her to. Purely consensual, even though it’s harder for her to do things, even though there are things she’s sacrificing.  Interesting, isn’t it?

And then I thought about I Dream of Jeannie – there’s another one who’s required to give up her magic.  She even calls Major Whatever-his-name-was “Master.”  Ok, she’s a genie, and BDSM was probably all leather back in those days and maybe it even seemed normal.  But still – could the M/s of that be any more clear?

True, she isn’t a very good submissive, or slave, even in her harem outfit, since she’s always using her magic to get him – and herself -into and out of trouble.  But it’s the same idea – like Samantha, she’s expected to hide her power – to give him the control.  Darren and Master are only pleased with them when they’re not exercising their abilities.

I don’t quite know where I’m going with this.  I mean, from my perspective, making yourself smaller, denying your own power, isn’t the goal of D/s, and probably isn’t what most couples are working for.  It always seemed to me that my ability to serve in a D/s relationship increased my ability to be who I am and made me more complete, not less.    And I think that whatever power I have in my life increases my ability to serve in a D/s relationship.  But then what do I know.

And maybe Jeanie and Samantha felt that way too.  It’s just interesting…





Once upon a time…

This is a true story.

Once upon a time, about 2004, i was still in my late 40s and just beginning to get interested in the real world of kink.  i was newly aware that a whole bunch of people were doing things that would thrill and delight me and didn’t end up with me naked and chained to the wall in a basement somewhere.

There was a man named Michael – well actually there were two of them, one went by Mike and I’ve written about him before. The other was Michael, and I don’t think about him as often.  But ‘nilla’s story here reminded me and I thought I’d tell the story of what was maybe my first introduction to BDSM.  First in real life, that is.

I met Michael on the phone line – I don’t guess they have those anymore, but back in the early 2000’s you could set up a little intro message on this phone line.  People would listen to each other’s messages and if you weren’t interested, you hit “3” and moved to another message, but if you were interested you hit “1” and could leave a message for them.   That’s actually how i met my second husband, but that’s a story for a different day – or maybe never.  Anyhow, you left a message, and sometimes they messaged you back and sometimes they didn’t.

So Michael’s intro message said something like, “Hi, this is Michael – and there was a pause – just for a moment – and then “All. Tied. Up.  And that’s what I like to do, tie ladies up and please them…” and i don’t remember the rest of it, but his voice was like silk and i was totally fascinated.

So we chatted.  We chatted on the phone and he casually talked about bondage – rope – and crops and cuffs and all kinds of things that made me wet and wetter.  He would tell me to touch myself, tell me how to do it, and then, just as I was about to cum, he’d say, “Stop.”  I’d whimper and he’d say it again, in his most commanding voice.   “Stop. Stop touching yourself NOW.  No more touching.”

So i would – i’d stop touching myself, delighted with how wet it made me and how it thrilled my little submissive soul.

He took his time asking me out, waiting me out in the way that dominant men have.  By the time he invited me to meet him for a drink, i was dying to meet him.  i wanted to experience all the things he talked about – so much.

We met at a bar, in a suburban strip mall.  I had a glass of Chardonnay, i’m sure.  He had a coke, explaining that he didn’t drink if he was going to play.   He was nice enough looking, an ordinary looking middle aged man with dark hair and a slightly receding hairline.  Slim, with blue eyes, and a nice smile.

We chatted, and soon i began to wish he’d quit talking about mundane things and talk about ropes and whips and all the kinky things instead.  i begin to wish he’d touch me instead of chatting nicely about movies and his job.   Yes, this is who i am, and i was a little bit appalled at myself, but you know.  What submissive girl wouldn’t revel in the idea of being introduced to these pleasures that she’d only dreamed of?

Eventually – but not until i was dying for something to happen – he said, “Did you want to play a little bit tonight?”  i thought i was going to explode right there, of excitement and anxiety and so much want-to and just a little bit of better-not. But i kept my cool (a little bit anyhow) and i said, “Play?” in an appropriately coy and curious voice.

“Yeah,” he said,  and went on to explain that we could go to a hotel, or just go to the car.  He assured me he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want but he had some toys he could show me, if I wanted to.  No pressure.  We could wait til the next time we saw each other, or we didn’t have to do anything ever.

“Oh, um, yes,” i did want to play a little bit, but maybe better not go to a hotel.  So we went to his van.  Just the front seat, not even the back of the van, parked in the darkness on the side of strip mall.

There are lots of things i don’t remember from that night, but there are a few that i remember as vividly as yesterday.  My breasts exposed, as he flicked my nipples, lightly, with the tip of a crop.  Really, just seeing the crop threw me into some kind of major submissive ecstasy .  He stroked the inside of my thighs with it, JUST LIKE Story of O!

Ok, maybe not “just like.” But it seemed really close!

i can remember how he looked, how i watched him, fascinated, as he toyed with me.  Watching him watching me.  Getting wetter.  And wetter.  My face flushing, breathing erratic.  Moans and whimpers.  Oh, my.

i don’t remember ever being played with like that before.  You know, i’d been married and divorced already, and was a child of the early 70s and the sexual revolution.  I had some experience.  But most of it was men greedy and in a hurry, trying to hustle me through the preliminaries so they could fuck me.  This was a man in control of himself, in control of me.

He caressed me with the flogger.  Made me ask permission before i was allowed to touch his cock, hard and throbbing.  Stroked me, petted me – oh, it was lovely.

Time passed – i didn’t want it to end, ever – but eventually, he told me it was time to stop, late, time to go home.  i sighed, i whimpered.  “When you get home,” he said, “you’re going to still be really wet, really hot.”

i nodded, still snuggled up near him, yes, yes i would.  “And you’re going to want to play with yourself, you’re going to want to cum.” i nodded, yes, definitely, i would.  i could barely wait.

“No,” he said, pulling back from me.  “NO playing with yourself when you get home.  NO touching yourself.  Is that clear?”

I was shocked – like he’d thrown cold water all over me, but i recovered quickly.  “Yessss, yes, that’s clear.”

“Wait until I call you,” he said.  “I’ll call you tonight, when I call, I’ll let you cum.   But not before then.”

Quickly, i acquiesced and got what was not the first “good girl” of the evening.  Sighing, smiling to myself, thrilled, i drove myself home carefully, throbbing and wet.

i got ready for bed, clutching the phone to me.  Hot and wet and frustrated, waiting for his call.



Finally, i broke down and called him.  i could NOT believe he was doing this to me.  He’d said he’d call.  Seriously!!  He needed to call!

No answer.  So I waited some more.

Eventually, i resigned myself to the inevitable.  He was not going to call.  Bastard.

i cried.  How could he do this to me?

i felt abandoned and betrayed.

i know, that was silly.  But BDSM pulls on those demons, all those anxieties that live deep inside us.  It pulls them up into the light of day, whether we want it to or not.

The next day he called – and he laughed at my frustration.  Laughed.  He said, “When i saw you were calling me, i knew i had you.”

That outraged me more than I can possibly tell you.  After all his frigging talk about trust – bullshit!!  i didn’t say it to him, but i thought, “Fuck you, and fuck your ” I knew I had you…”  You’ll never have me.”

We stayed in touch, more or less, for a long time, while other relationships started and ended for both of us.  He was mostly a nice guy, just not actually my nice guy.  We almost played several times after that, and he bought me a vibrator – it was blue, kind of medium sized, and had a clit stimulator too, which was the kind of thing i didn’t even know existed.   He had been shocked that I didn’t already have one.  i said i was too freaked out to go to an adult store myself.  So he came to my work, took me out for lunch one day and gave it to me, which was just super sweet.

There’s not an actual point or moral to the story, unless you want to make one up for me.  But ‘nilla’s story – chapter 11, where our heroine is left to simmer in her own juices overnight, made me think of it.

Like Agnostic Zetetic Says…

I was looking for quotes related to “work” and found this lovely series of quotes from Agnostic Zetetic, whom I had never heard of.   I saw this one first and it just made me laugh.

“There is a certain loveliness, I think, to performing deep cleaning in one’s underwear on a beautiful summer day.” 
― Agnostic Zetetic

And then this:

“I was not merely cleaning an oven; I was improving the world.” 

I thought, “that’s got to be a submissive person, I can’t imagine who else would feel that way!!”

The next one

“No one has the right to demand that your body be something other than what it is.” 

made me think of FFF, and I had to remind myself that for most of us, the demand to change our bodies is internal, not from someone outside ourselves.  At the same time , I thought about Bleue, and what she wrote about her post-baby body.  How much of our desire to change is really about health, and how much is external pressure?  Only each of us can know.

And then this:

“We’re not broken. We’re not in the wrong bodies. We’re not inadequate. We’re not lesser. We’re not unwanted. We’re not fraudulent. We’re not undesirable. That’s all just a set of lies we tell to soothe the experience of the prisons we put ourselves in.” 

I wondered if Agnostic Zetetic was trans, but the quote speaks to me too.  It’s about trying to manage the dialectic – that we are all perfectly fine just the way we are – and we can all be healthier, thinner, more flexible, more of whatever we aspire to.  Both of those things are true.

Then the quotes move away from bodies and into who we are on a different level:

“Even with the very best of intentions, even with the ambition of making the world a better place, when we cast judgment upon people whose lifestyles, beliefs, or predilections we dislike, we add to the emotional filth of hostility and make the world feel a little less safe for the folks we’re genuinely trying to help.” 

I find myself thinking something like this every time I see someone on FB attacking someone’s appearance or laughing at their weight – even when it’s someone I don’t respect or hold in high regard.

“May we each find in ourselves the courage we forgot we have, to see the beauty we forgot is inside us, while battling the demons we forgot we can slay, on a battlefield we forgot we can win.” 

I think i want that one on a wall hanging, or somewhere i can see it everyday.  And i want this one for so many of my clients:

“If you’re lying to everyone you know, including yourself, at every possible turn, is a little upheaval really the worst that could happen to your life right now?” 

But THIS one speaks to me directly.

“If it’s convenient to love you, you’re lying to someone about who you are or what you need.” 

I have to sit with this one for awhile.  I think there might be some home truths for me here.  I can still here MP commenting to me casually that he appreciated that I made his life so easy.  Some might think that means I’m a good submissive, but I don’t think so, not in this case.  I think it is more about the lies Agnostic Zeretic calls out here.

There are more quotes i liked but I will save them for another time.

Agnostic Zetetic does indeed appears to be a slave, and probably trans.  They once had a blog, but it’s password protected and apparently hasn’t been used since February 2015.  They’ve written one book:  Pinocchio’s First Time, which bills itself as Trans Erotica.  I can find very little about them – and am using the gender neutral “they/them” just because I don’t know what pronouns they preferred.

But the quotes don’t come from the book, which is the shortest one I’ve seen on Amazon.  So I don’t know where the quotes come from – you can find them on Goodreads quotes, but they’re not attributed to anything.  The book does have at least one quote – the last one I’ll share here.  It’s in the first few paragraphs of the book, where’s it’s quickly established that they’re tied up and being played with by someone who is “gorgeous, slender, nuanced.”  Someone who “made my brain shudder and my body follow suit.”  Then this:

“It’s for your own good, boy. Take the pain, and grow with it. You can’t be any better than you are now without some growing pains.” His voice was gentle, as though he actually had some semblance of mercy deep down inside of him. 

The promise of those words is so powerful for me.


I have a bunch of thoughts floating around in my head – if I knew how to do it, I’d put them here in bubbles, like a cartoon, or circles.  But I don’t know how to do that here, so you’ll have to imagine it.  Here are my thoughts, in no particular order.

I Believe:

  • Spanking – getting spanked – clears my mind and helps me focus.
  • BDSM has, or can have, a spiritual component.
  • I carry a lot of guilt for things that aren’t my responsibility.
  • Perfectionism has been a lifelong struggle for me, and has sometimes kept me from trying to do new things.
  • It’s very unlikely that I will get to have a BDSM relationship with someone who is also my partner.
  • My experience with the BDSM community in real life has helped shaped my beliefs.
  • I’m an INFP – changing the world is my goal.
  • BDSM is about way more than sex.
  • I’m not a very disciplined person – I’m a wanderer.
  • Being a wanderer is not all bad, but it’s not all good either.
  • I’m drawn to the idea of punishment – just as a general principal.
  • Focusing on pleasing a Dom is really good for me.
  • My submissiveness extends beyond a relationship with one person.
  • I might be more effective in the things I do – job, vocation, and relationships – if I were less driven by the need to please.
  • It would be helpful to have guidance in handling my desire to serve. 
  • Having a relationship with a Dom helps me focus my desire to please and allows me to build my desire to serve. 
  • Whatever I do has to be consistent with my values, which may not be traditional ones.
  • Spanking, obedience, and discipline are sexually arousing for me.
  • BDSM help me be more embodied, more connected to my physical self.

So there’s a nice mix of ideas.  Or maybe an odd mix.  I believe lots of things, but these are ones that seem important to my kinky life.  These are the things I’m trying to sort through to decide what I need to do next.



Submission Goes Mainstream

I read this lovely article in The Elephant Journal about a submissive woman who’s talking publicly about her lifestyle.  You can and should read the whole article here.  But this part in particular was nice to read.

She is a submissive. Her life, day in and day out, is lived with the mindset of being in service to her Sir, who happens to be her long-time partner and a man for whom she has the utmost in love and respect.

A mother, wife, yoga lover, CPA by profession, living an upper middle class lifestyle; this beautiful, intelligent, woman’s days are full of the usual joys and concerns that we all can relate to, but with the added intention to follow her Master’s will.

I was intrigued and thrilled to meet someone who has so fully explored her soul’s needs and has made adjustments to live accordingly.

Authenticity like this is rarer than you’d think.

It is easier to bow to the demands of society and other people’s opinions than to live according to what truly moves us.

It has been my honor to interview a woman who has taught me much about releasing expectations of oneself that do not match our soul’s purpose.

She has courage and wisdom to spare and wishes to open a door for other women to face their deepest held needs.

While this is not a subject that all will agree upon, it is our prerogative as women to live our lives as freely and of our own choice as possible. And as another friend said to me recently, if that means chained to our kitchen sink because that is what we desire, then so be it.

The article is based on a interview with the submissive woman, so part of it is direct quotes and part of it is the author’s reflections.  I like the way the author honors the choice, and the insight the submissive woman offers.  But then this part gives me lots to ponder.  She says:

“However, I never thought of living this way 24/7 until last fall when my Husband, now Dom, and I discussed trying this lifestyle as a way to help me deal with chronic anxiety.

I tend to over-think everything. I can get stuck in a worst-case scenario or processing loop over most any decision. So, simplifying my life by devoting myself to Him, as His submissive, allows to me make all decisions based on what pleases Him. Anxiety solved and I’ve never felt happier or more fulfilled. Again, this only works because I judge Him as wise, just, fair and trustworthy.”

Suddenly, there are


red flags all over the place.

Ok, not that extreme.  And i quickly remind myself that it’s not any of my business, not my call to make, not my place to judge.

On the other hand, she’s telling her story in a public venue – i get to have an opinion too.  And of course I do – have an opinion.

I think that BDSM has a healing component.  I think it can be helpful for people who experience anxiety or depression or who have PTSD.  I don’t think it’s healthy, or a good use of BDSM, for it to be THE solution to anxiety.

But it’s open for discussion.  What do you think?