The Big O

You might wonder why all the fuss about an orgasm yesterday. 

It has always been a difficult place to go for me. So hard, in fact, that I often just considered myself "broken", would feel sorry for whatever poor man was trying to get me there and just tell him to give up. "It's too hard. It takes too long. It's ok, just stop." Very rarely would THIS man stop. Poor hubby. I'm sure it was exhausting. I know I was getting tired of constantly hunting my elusive orgasms. So, while I would "get there" on a pretty regular basis, it often felt more like work than something to enjoy, and rarely would I discover one worth writing home about. 

Yesterday, alterating between pleasure and pain, the orgasm that snuck up on me left me in tears and with a little spark of hope that maybe I'm not so broken after all. 

From 0-60

 I am almost speechless today! I had another idea floating in my head for a completely different post today, but hubby ruined my plans for that. This is far more important.

I'm an early riser. My pups like to get up around 4 a.m. to pee and I can't be bothered going back to bed after that point. Once I'm awake, I'm awake. I take doggies out, I grab a coffee, and check to see if I've got any work to do, and spend some time reading my favorite blogs, or browsing through YouTube and just enjoying the only quiet time I have to myself.

Hubby is a late sleeper. He'd been gone since Sunday morning, and got home late last night, around 11, so I did not expect him to be up much earlier than 9 or 10 a.m. About 7:30 I got a pretty specific text as to where my lips were supposed to be. 

Well, this is some new business around here! I hurried up to the loft and put those lips in place... And then whack! Owies. I almost choked myself on him. My poor delicate pink bits are not as tough as my behind. Not at all. But wait... after the OW... oh... well... that was a nice feeling...

This carried on for a bit and then he pulled the wand out from under a pillow. 1 brush, 1 wand... There was some OWWing, and then some OOOHing... and then out of nowhere, there was some squirting. That was an explosive combination. 

Dear God, what has this man been learning on his nights away from home?

He's sure ramped things up around here. 

I can't wait to see what's next! 

Being Submissive - Part 3

 We've been together since February 2000. We are not actually married. The piece of paper and the ring didn't do much the first time around... Why waste the time and money? I don't need or want a piece of paper that's not worth the paper it's printed on. 

Anyway, back to the story.

Years marched on. We had some kids, moved around a lot - While he would have liked to settle down in one place, I always seemed to be looking for home. In the beginning, I became very good friends with one of his friends. <insert funny story here> This friend doesn't remember when she met him, doesn't remember hanging out much before he met me, and I didn't remember meeting her... she was just... there. For her, it's like he only popped into existence once he met me. 

I say I didn't remember meeting her, but recently, I DID finally remember how it happened. So, at some point early in our relationship,  (we were living together at that point) I had a complete and total meltdown. I mean, total. And it freaked my poor man out. I think I was just simply exhausted, having 3 young kids, and there was a LOT of other crap going on that doesn't need going into. I just cracked up and started crying, wouldn't eat, wouldn't get out of bed. Exhausted but couldn't sleep. And he didn't know what to do with me. He's not normally good under pressure when it comes ot me. His urge to "fix" it gets in his way. He called up this friend, freaking out, and she arrived 15 minutes later, talked calmy with me while I cried buckets of tears, popped a sleeping pill down my throat, told him to tuck me in and let me get some sleep. 

Well, every time it looked like I was about to lose my grip, he'd call her up and she'd come to the rescue. Take me out of the house, away from the kids, and keep me supplied with books to read. Well, it just so happened that the Sleeping Beauty came to be in the mix. 

Now, I'd read Story of O quite young, but being raised the way I was, sex was TABOO. So  I'd read it, returned it to the library and forgot about it. More or less. But heck, now I was all grown up! Sleeping Beauty, now, this was a fairy tale I could get to like... and I wanted all the BDSM content I could find. I was hooked. 

Was I submissive? I'd guess I'd say that yes, in a way, I am naturally submissive. But there's a difference between being scared of your own shadow and being submissive. Wanting to be submissive, that came later on. I was content on just being bent a little to the kinky side... But there wasn't anywhere to go with those feelings. This man... more vanilla than a bottle of pure extract.

Ok, so, about 12 years into being together, the itch, the urge... I had to have what I wanted and that was that. It started with pretty simple stuff. A bit of tying up, blindfolds maybe. But it never happened often enough. I mean, understandable. We had 5 kids by then. So a few times a year, I'd get a little taste, and I just kept wanting more, and more, and more. It took another 5 years before I really dropped it all out on the table and said, "I need. Figure it out."

Ok, not much fair in that. And it was a bumpy start. We tried, he tried, we stopped trying... It's just been a wreck. For someone who liked the whole idea of "submissive", I sure was getting it a lot wrong. I was so submissive that I took our toolbox full of spanking tools and burned them up. I mean, I went outside to our firepit, in the nice private area of our property, lit a fire, and slowly, one by one, dropped each item in and watched it burn. Well, my man, who proclaims that he doesn't always "get" it, has no idea what to do, or when, or how... When he discovered the remains, he trotted off to town, bought some supplies, and promptly made some more. He sat in our camper for two nights, with me beside him, and created more. He also bought TWO bath brushes "Just in case". And then he made good use of everything. I think it was a full week before I felt it was safe to sit down again. 

It was shortly after that that everything broke down again, but it was also at that point that arguments happened less, didn't last for long, and we could come back together again so much faster than we used to. I'm not so jumpy about shadows, I'm not scared of him, and I'm not scared to open my mouth and use some words. So, despite all the failures along the way, something changed. In me, in him, and between us. 

The more I submit to him, the more I anticipate his needs without him needing to micromanage me to death -  and to be honest, why on earth would he want that job? - the more I don't fuss and argue and fight back against everything... Well, I feel a little more settled inside. And he seems to feel a little more comfortable with asking me to get out of my warm bed and fetch him a Pepsi... or ordering up an early morning blowjob. 

He would always say he felt uncomfortable, being so selfish, asking me to do things he could do perfectly well on his own. He seems to be getting over that just fine suddenly. It only took 6 years of working on it. 

Being Submissive - Part 2

 Ok, so I dumped a husband on our first anniversary. This was a Wednesday night. Friday night, my older brother (who lived in the basement of my house) and his girlfriend dragged me out to a bar for karaoke night. Well, I wasn't going to turn down an excuse to get my drunk on. It had been quite a year. My sister-in-law, who also lived in my house, (It was a big house that belonged to my parents who had left my brother and I in charge of it while they were in different provinces taking care of aging parents) stepped in to babysit for me. God, I miss her. We fell out of touch eventually as we both moved to different provinces, but she was my best friend for a long time. 

So anyway... out to the bar we go. We bought our first drinks and I sat down in a random chair while brother and his gf went off to play some pool. I said something quietly (so I thought) under my breath about the person who was belting out a Neil Diamond song and a guy sitting in front of me laughed. That was the beginning.

Well, eventually, brother, gf and I grabbed a table and settled in. Drinking away, and then I hear some guy belting out some Def Leppard and he nailed it. A little bit later on it was, "Hurts So Good." I look up to see who's singing... And I was in love. Just like that. This was the same guy who'd laughed at what I'd said about Kermit (Nickname for the Neil Diamon guy... everyone called him that. He was a regular there). Now, some people don't always "get" my kind of humor. I amuse myself greatly, but not always everyone else. Anyway, turns out that brother's gf knew him, was friends with him... and he's been laughing at my jokes ever since.

The first time he ever visted me at my house, I didn't know anyone had let him in and waltzed out of the bathroom waving a pregnancy test to show my sister-in-law and brother's gf that, yes, indeed I was actually pregnant and almost bowled him over right back down the stairs to the front door. He didn't run away. I had two kids already, another on the way... and he didn't run away. 

I never did learn how to say no. We have 5 kids all together. He has one son from a previous relationship, but that one wasn't raised by us.  

Tomorrow I'll get to the rest of this story - I swear I'm gonna get to the point eventually. I guess I just felt like rambling a bit today. 

Being submissive - Part 1

 A couple of days ago, Windy, over at When The Storm Whispers To The Wind posted this question:  When did you first realise you had submissive feelings and how far have you embraced those feelings?

I thought I'd give it a whirl and see where I end up. I think this will require a bit of my life story before I found my newfie. 

I think it was pretty early in life that I realized something was there inside me. By the time I was 11 or 12, I was reading straight up porn that could be bought at the corner store. 2 books in one, pretty thick, and they only cost about 7 bucks. I have no idea why any adult would let a kid buy books like that, but things were different back then. That would have been mid 80s. Around 13 years old, I discovered The Story of O - I mean, is there any of us that haven't taken a least a peek into that classic? Well, it wasn't long before I learned that it was that kind of sex that turned me on. But it all stayed in my head. 

When I was 17, I'd just moved out of my parent's home and had moved into my first apartment. I worked at the same place as my mom did. Occasionally, we'd stay pretty late as she was the night supervisor and was always the last to leave. The busses weren't running that late at night and we'd share a cab, even though we literally lived at separate ends of the city. Every night we had to take a cab, it was the same driver. And I fell head over heels in love with him. (I found out later that he'd requested that he get the calls to pick us up)

But I was only 17, raised Catholic, just newly out of my safe nest at my parents, and this guy was 26. I'd never dated before. Hell, I didn't even go to school dances. I was shy, and a scaredy-cat my whole life, being raised by a very strict Catholic father with some mental issues, like being bi-polar. My mom tried to be the best buffer between his craziness and us kids, but there was only so much she could do. Anyway... so here I was faced with a 20 minute drive, late at night, alone in a cab with this long-haired guy that kept saying nice things to me. But, oh, I was scared to death! And I didn't believe any of the nice things either. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't all that funny. I wasn't anything special. Just plain me. 

For one full year, he asked me for my phone number at least once a week. I turned him down every single time. I wasn't even an "adult" yet! But finally, he wore me down. The first time we met outside of him "doing his job and driving me home" was the first afternoon after I gave him my number, and he called me a few hours before my shift... And I was sick! I had a stupid cold and had woken up feeling like something the cat had dragged in. He turned up at my door shortly after that with some soup and sent me back to bed and left. 

Well, I didn't know it then, or see it... but looking back, there were a lot of signs that he was accustomed to being in charge, and I was more than happy to submit. But I was still young, still scared of my own shadow, and I think, in that fear, squirmed my way out of that relationship within 2 years. Not before I turned up preggers with my first son though. No regrets. There's no way we were a good match, but I think some parts of that relationship have always acted as a bit of a yardstick to see who measured up and who didn't. 

Somewhere around the time I was 24 (maybe), I met a guy, we lived together, I got preggers again, and then married him.  How that happened is another story all on its own. But chalk it up to a lot of pressure from various sources, me still being just a little girl that was scared and didn't know how to say no, and never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings. He had no spine. At all. It was odd to find myself in charge in that marriage when that was the last thing I wanted. But I had more balls than that man ever did. It only lasted a year. Exactly one year later, on our anniversary, I told him that I didn't love him and there was no marriage. Unfortunately, I'd had to go out to supper with him, down a pitcher of beer (It was cheap wings and beer night at a local club) to give myself some courage. Well, needless to say we both ended up a bit tipsy. Somehow he missed the message that we were done and he should sleep in the spare room and I ended up preggers with the third child.

A Year in Review

 - I work from home, hubby does not. I am home ALL the time, he is not. He's a trucker... half the time he's not even in the same province as I am. It's terrible and I hate it. We have had enough emotional distance between us that adding physical distance as well has come close to tearing us apart. (We're working on ways to help me feel better about this)

- We have had some pretty ugly drawn-out squabbles between us this past year. It seemed like almost every week, I'd be left in tears as he headed off to work, nothing resolved, and me wondering how on earth we got to this point. 

- Spanking has been on hold for more than a year. Sex would still get a little rough at times, which soothed the beast within me, (a little) but we just weren't "together". We were fulfilling physical needs, but not much beyond that. 

- As far apart as we were, it would seem that neither of us were willing to just give up. We'd just keep butting heads, hurting each other, break into pieces, keep writing messages at night while he's on the road. He still made sure I had my Timmy's coffee stored in the fridge for the days he would be gone (I don't drive so when he's on the road, I'm housebound in the middle of nowhere) and I'd make sure he came home to some food in the microwave and clean clothes in the bathroom for after his shower. Little things, but just enough to let to each other know that as pissed as we were with each other, we still loved each other, we still took care of each other, even if it was the barest minimum. 

- At some point, maybe a few months ago, he got so angry with me that he said I was to never mention any of this (This being DD, kink of any sort) again. I was so hurt that I shut down completely. It felt like such a rejection of ME. I wouldn't answer his calls. I wouldn't answer his texts. 4 days went by while he was gone and there was no communication between us. Another time, I took something he said the wrong way (We all know tone doesn't come across well in a text) and spewed 20 years worth of anger at him. 

- I don't remember how it happened, but we crawled back from the edge again. Slowly. Painfully. But, once again, we came back together. The messages kept flying between us. Trying to understand each other. Me trying not to push too hard, him feeling like he was walking on shards of glass, I'm sure. 

-10 days ago, I was sitting around plotting my escape. I was TIRED! I hadn't sleep well in months. We'd been good/not good for a couple of weeks straight and I just wanted to run away. I just didn't want to deal with it anymore. Something had happened online concerning some of my kids and I got a late-night text from one of them letting me know about it and I just crumbled. I crawled back into bed, rolled over into his arms and just started bawling. He never said a word, just held me and let me cry myself out.

- We started talking again. He seems to have finally gotten the message that I need all or nothing. Half-assed efforts aren't gonna do it. There's a ton of crossed wires that we're trying to sort out. I'm like a dog with a bone. I don't give up, or let go... I might walk away from it for a bit, but when it's all said and done, the bone is mine and I will have it. I picked, and prodded, asked questions, inserted my own thoughts and opinions on what I thought HIS thoughts and opinions were. Uncovered a lot of misunderstandings. 

- A week ago, I was angry with him. Again. I shouldn't have been. I was being as selfish as I could be and he, rightfully so, was pretty pissed off at me. But, I made sure the house was cleaned up the day he got home. (Wanna guess what kind of muddy mess you can get from having 5 dogs in the house after they've run through the spring melt in my barnyard?) I learned how to use my instant pot all by myself and made real food, with real homemade buns so he had a real supper to come home to. I cleaned our loft bedroom up (after a winter of using it for storage instead of a bedroom), did ALL the laundry, shaved as he likes it, popped clean bedding onto the bed and managed to convince the dogs to NOT sleep in it. And by the time I'd done all of that, I realized that I was feeling much, much better. I wasn't angry with him anymore. (I shouldn't have been anyway, but that's another story)

He's been trying so hard. I gave him a hard time about needing actions, not more words. He tries to give me actions, and I'd give him a hard time about words. *sigh* It would almost be comical if it hadn't done so much damage. 

I think I mentioned that we had a lovely morning a couple days ago. That night, I warmed up some oil while he was having a bath, and gave him a massage before bed, and then I curled up and went to sleep while he watched a movie he's been waiting to see. Yesterday morning, he had to hit the road again, and I was expecting more than I got. I sent him a message shortly after he'd left. 

"I'm almost angry that you left me without an orgasm AND no brush this morning. But I can't be pissy because you're literally giving me what I asked for. I will reserve the right to be sad about it though.

I'm going to resist the urge to direct this. Or at least try to... I don't think you really need me to tell you how to do anything anymore. I think you've got it figured out. You just need to keep doing what you're doing. Thank you for sticking with me long enough to get this far. I'm sorry I drive you nuts."

Of course, I'm sitting here stewing because he hasn't read that message yet. (And of course he hasn't because by the time he stopped driving last night, it was LATE and he would have been exhausted) But when he does read it, he probably won't respond to it. He rarely does. It will be a case of actions, not words. It's only taken me 20 years to figure this out - He always, always, tries to give me what I want/need. It's just not always on my timeline. I think part of the problem, for me, is that he's only home a couple of nights a week. His actions are always delayed for as many days as he's gone. Things feel disjointed and not always connected well by the time he gets home. 

Perhaps I'll eventually learn some patience. 

And that's the short version. But everything in between, well, it's mostly just more of the same. On/off, in/out, up/down and around in circles. But at this moment in time, it feels like we've maybe come out on the same side of that circle for a change. Maybe.  

Yesterday

"What color collar? Red or Black?"

"For who?"

Sigh... Did I really have to ask that? After father and son were done laughing like idiots - 

"For the dog, of course." Well, of course.

In case anyone's interested, the pup is now wearing a pretty red collar - which she doesn't seem overly fond of. And she probably doesn't understand why I'm glaring at her, or feeling just a wee bit jealous.

I'm not that jealous though - the man brought me a present too. I can walk by, hit a button, take the dogs out and it's ready as I pass by again. He remembered to supply me with coffee, too.

Earlier in the day, he was feeling adventurous (sexually adventurous which is unusual for this vanilla man) and sent me a picture and said, "I want one."  So I went to my favorite store - Pink Cherry - and popped some stuff into my shopping cart. "Not right now. I'll wait. Save the money." 

But - "It's on sale! It might not be on sale later." Still a no though, so I sighed and closed up shop. Maybe he wasn't feeling that adventurous. 

I'm not going to complain. We'd had a wonderful morning that was unlike our usual mornings AND I get fast, easy coffee whenever I want. I am a little confused though... It was HIS birthday earlier in the week, not mine. Why did I get the present and not him? 

I'm a little sad this morning. He's off to work again and will be gone til Wednesday night, maybe Thursday. And after months, and months (and more months) of ugly between us, it finally feels like we're reading the same book again. Maybe not on the same page yet, but I think we're at least on the same book. Or maybe it's just the same genre. Okay, okay... it's more like Story of O vs. any Harlequin Romance,  but it's okay - We don't hate each other right now. 

I gotta say, it's hard to work on this relationship when I only see him 8 days out of a month. 

An introduction of sorts

 I am back with a new blog. My last one was called... Ha, I can't remember. It was something about construction because my hubby and I were having such difficulities getting on the same page... mostly about DD (domestic discipline) but then it just became about *everything*. We just weren't together. At all. And life, oh, it just kept happening! It's still happening, of course. I mean, life would be boring as hell if it just paused long enough for me to catch my breath. 

Well, anyway... In a fit of rage... childishness, pure petulance... I deleted that blog. Was it over a year ago? Less than? I don't know. I've no sense of time lately, other than that it just keeps moving along. 

I've titled this blog Ball of Yarn. Because that's what my head looks like, most often. A basket full of tangled up balls of yarn. Ain't no one gonna knit a nice scarf out of this mess. I never think, or speak, in a straight line. I confuse myself sometimes. I pick up one string, follow it for a bit, and then find myself tangled up in another. And I wonder why my poor man is so lost sometimes...

It's not likely that I'll be writing any steamy spanking scenes or the like here... I'm not big on giving out *those* kinds of details. But as hubby and I are still changing and evolving, so too, might this space. I'm just here to pull on the loose strings, follow where they lead and try to wind them up into neat and organized balls.