No More Doms for This Girl July 12, 2009

As I’ve written recently, I have had some submissive fantasies cropping up lately.  I do have both submissive and dominant profiles on collarme. Yeah, I could just do one and list myself as a switch but I’m looking for either a relationship with a dominant or a relationship with a submissive – I don’t switch within a single relationship. 

 

A week or so ago a couple (about 3 hours away) contacted me.  I talked with the dom a couple times (probably totalling around 5 hours).  He seemed really nice and normal – had a submissive wife and kids.  Then he proposed that I submit to him for an afternoon.  Everything went well for a while – even though he had no idea whether I was actually submitting to him or not, there was a rush when I did as he said.  Eventually he gave me my big assignment – to wear a short skirt, spaghetti strap top, high heels and no bra or panties to the grocery store.  I was to buy whatever I needed, plus batteries.  I was to put a pair of panties and my bullet in my purse.  After the grocery store I was to pull over somewhere and get myself off, but it had to last at least 15 minutes (usually it only takes me a couple minutes!)
At first I agreed, nervously but agreed nonetheless.  I got dressed as he asked and was walking out the door but then I stopped.  I just couldn’t go through with it.  I am a fairly modest person.  Any sort of public display of affection makes me uncomfortable, whether it’s witnessing it or taking part myself.  Holding hands in public is difficult for me!  Even wearing jeans without panties would be a big deal for me – not to mention a short (by my standards anyway) light tan skirt!  Plus, the city I live in isn’t exactly a big city.  The odds of running into someone I know are extremely high.  I’ve taught close to 80 kids so me running into one of my students & their parents isn’t unlikely either.  I explained all of this to the dom but he said I was just making up excuses.  He said that’s what I always do – run away when things get tough and that I will not be happy until I can overcome my fears.  He said that I need to do it for myself, not for him.

 

I was just thinking, “Excuse me?  You’ve talked to me online for a handful of hours and yet you know me well enough t say what I *need* to be happy?”  He assured me that I would eventually regret my decision and was shocked when I hadn’t regretted it by the next day.  Obviously he didn’t know me as well as he thought he did, as it’s been almost a week and I haven’t had a tinge of regret yet.

 

The whole experience was a good refresher for me though.  I’d forgotten how bad so many dom’s suck.  He really is very stereotypical of most of the “doms” I’ve met online.  I looked back through our conversations and it became quite obvious he thought he was far superior to me.  While some subs do feel that their doms are superior to them, I am not one of them.  As a person I am their equal; I would simply have a different role within our relationship.  That is the way I see my subs also – I don’t think I’m superior to them simply because I am their domme.  Anyway, back to our conversations.  For every one of my comments, he made 6-7.  He would just keep talking and talking and talking.  There was no give-and-take in the conversation.  It wasn’t even a conversation – he would talk and I would listen (or rather, he would type and I would read).  And the fact that he felt he could psychoanalyze me after talking with me for such a short time – how fucking arrogant!

 

Backtracking a bit, I do think there is a tad bit of truth in the me running away thing.  I have chickened out when things get too intense with doms but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.  I look back and none of the doms I’ve chickened out with have been quality.  I don’t think it was necessarily chickening out – it was my instinct kicking in.  I don’t back down from things in person – not that I’ve submitted a lot in person.  If a dom is actually right there with me to push me, I don’t back down.  Another aspect of it is that I’m not going to push myself waaaaaaaaaaay out of my comfort zone for someone I hardly know.  If a guy who I’ve been submitting to for months asked me to do what that dom asked of me, I think I’d be able to overcome my fears to do it.  You don’t just jump to a subs limits the first time you chat.  Duh.

 

Needless to say, I’ve had my fill of submitting for a while.

~*~*~

The day after all this anxiety with the dom, was the day Hunter came for his visit.  After he’d left I realized something utterly embarrassing (to me, at least – I get embarrassed by the dumbest things!)  Right above my pussy “LJ’s slut” was written in permanent marker, per the doms request.  I had totally forgotten it was there!  The thought of Hunter seeing it petrified me.  I wondered why in the world he hadn’t said anything.  I texted him and discovered he hadn’t noticed it.  How he missed it, I have no idea but I was relieved.  I doubt it would have phased him but I’ve always been afraid that if a sub saw me do something submissive, it would lessen my dominance in their eyes.  It’s all good though

The Night That Almost Wasn’t July 10, 2009

Hunter came over the other night.  It was the first time I’d seen him in quite a while.  I was on vacation, then he was on vacation, and our schedules just didn’t mesh.  Story of us.

 

There was some drama though.  Nothing with him can be easy.  That boy drives me crazy, in so many ways.  We had plans for him to come over sometime after I got off work.  I texted him the night before, confirming he was coming, and reminding him that he needed to cum before he came.  Everything was good to go.  But, when I got off work I couldn’t get a hold of him.  I didn’t hear from him until waaay later in the evening when I received a text saying “I forgot and started drinking with my roommate. sorry”  I was not happy.

 

How can you forget about getting some?  Seriously, I was insulted by it.  I would *never* forget about plans like that.  I was surprisingly emotionally detached from it though.  Yeah, I was pissed but I wasn’t raging mad like I have been in the past.  And I didn’t come anywhere close to tears.  In the past when he’s pulled shit like this, it made me bawl my eyes out.  I’m very pleased that I’ve been able to emotionally detach from him (knock on wood).  A while after his original text, I sent one back saying not to bother contacting me again.  He most certainly didn’t listen.   For the next hour or so we texted back and forth, with me trying to convey how upset I was and him not taking me seriously at all. 

 

Finally, I told him to get his ass over to my place or he’d never see me again.  He used the drinking excuse so I simply told him to sober up and that I’d wait up – it didn’t matter how late he got here.  I could tell by his texts that he wasn’t too far gone, otherwise I wouldn’t have pushed the issue (when he’s really been drinking they aren’t readable).  When he finally showed up I could smell the alcohol on him but he was just fine. 

 

He gave me a hug while I stood there with my hands at my side.  We spent quite a while standing there, him holding and trying to kiss me, and me very blatantly refusing his advances.  I lectured him extensively about his actions and how he made me feel.  He assured me it wouldn’t happen again.  But, I felt some physical punishment was in order to reiterate the point.

 

He laid naked on the couch while I sat on the floor, leaning onto the couch.  I went to town flicking his cock and balls with my index finger.  I’ve done that to him before but never as extensively as I did that night.  It got a dramatic reaction from him.  It was quite pleasant…for me!  I then moved on to spanking him.  I had a huge pizza paddle and wooden spoon sitting out the whole time so he knew it was coming.  I don’t know if that impacted his headspace beforehand or not; I should have asked.  I’ve written before about how much I enjoy the wooden spoon.  Using something so cliche makes me feel like such a novice but damnit, it gets the best reaction!  The pizza paddle didn’t get nearly as much reaction out of him (the smaller implements seem to work better for him/us…is that true for most people?) but it did give his ass a very even red tone.  I found that to be much hotter than the random little red blotches that the wooden spoon leaves.  But, I didn’t use the paddle much.  As I’ve said before, it’s all about the reaction for me.   I really wailed on his ass.  It’s the first time I’ve literally taken my anger out on him.  In the past when I’ve punished him I detached because I’ve always been told you shouldn’t strike out of anger in a scene.  While I agree with that for the most part, I was still totally in control and it’s not like I was all out flogging him or anything.  The moments when I let myself get angry and really wail on him only lasted a few moments, and then I would back off and let him recover.  It was fucking hot though and it felt so damn good to get that negative energy out.

 

Originally I intended to only beat him and send him home – not eating me and definitely no fucking.  But, I just can’t pass up the opportunity to have him when he’s with me.  Each time could be the last time and if it does end up being the last time, I’d totally kick my own ass for not fucking him.  I let him go down on me and he ate me out for quite a while.  It’s the closest I’ve gotten to cumming from a guy going down on me.  It was hot.  And, of course it made me want him in me like no other.  So, that’s exactly what I told him – “I want you inside of me.”  He was happy to oblige.

 

It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would, which really worked to his advantage.  I only intended for him to fuck me for a few seconds - just enough for me to feel his cock in me, which is the biggest thing that does it for me.  Since it felt good, I let him fuck me for a little longer.  A little longer was still only a minute or two though, hehe.  I gave him 5 more thrusts, then he was to pull out and cum on my pussy.  He whined and said, “But I can’t come like that.”  What bullshit.  He pulled out when I told him to and came within 5-10 seconds.  Him not being allowed to cum in me was a punishment in and of itself.  I really like him cumming on my pussy – then I gets some more attention from his tongue (I almost always make him eat his own cum). 

 

He admitted that he thinks I wouldn’t have gone through with my threat not to see him again.  There’s a good chance he was right – I probably wouldn’t have gone through with it.  In some random moment of weakness, I would have contacted him and he would have weaseled his way into being forgiven yet again.  But each time I grow more and more detached.  I think he knows I’m getting close to walking away for good.  For my own good I hope I’m close to that point.  It’s demeaning and embarrassing to myself to put up with his shit.

Our Shallow Society July 9, 2009

There’s a new show that’s coming out called “More to Love.”  It’s basically “The Bachelor” for fat chicks.  I think it’s so sad (not for myself but for society as a whole) that we have to have a special show for non-model type girls.  To not include bbw girls in the regular Bachelor is one thing, but then to have a special show just for big chicks?  I get that different people find different things attractive but if we have to have a Bachelor for big girls, why don’t we have one of just chicks with small tits, or one for just red heads?  By giving bbw women their own show, they’re very blatantly acknowledging that they were not worthy of being on the regular Bachelor. 

 

I know it comes down to ratings and such but either way, it demonstrates how shallow our society has become.

It’s the Little Things July 6, 2009

I am in heaven right now. My sister is gone for the next two weeks so I have the house to myself! I’m keeping the thermostat at a tolerable temperature (I’m all about saving money and conserving energy but she takes it to an extreme) and best of all…I get to sleep naked! I never do when she’s here becacuse it’s too big of a pain to put clothes on whenever I have to get up in the night. I love it!

Living for Tomorrow July 4, 2009

In high school I lived for the future.  I remember the first time I didn’t want to die (not to imply I was always suicidal, just that if I had been given the choice to live or die, I would have chosen not to live) – it was the first time I visited the college I would later attend.  It gave me so much hope for the future.  I was absolutely miserable in high school.  There were only 51 people in my graduating class so it was hard to find a group to fit in with.  Add in the fact that it’s a small town and thus most of the individuals I went to school with also had small minds (I once had a teacher refer to bin Laden as a “towel head”).  It was rough for me.   But, like I said, I lived for college.  Hopes for what college would be literally got me through high school.

 

And for me college lived up to my expectations.  I was ridiculously happy and I made a conscious effort to savor every minute of it.  I enjoyed my classes and had the best group of friends a person could ask for. 

 

But now that I’m in the “real world” I find myself living for the future again.  It’s not that I’m unhappy like I was in high school – I just want the future to be NOW.   I am so excited to make my parents grandparents, to settle down near them and start raising my kids with a farmer’s work ethic, small town hospitality, and thirst to change the world.  This is all a pretty recent development too – within the past 3-4 months.  Before then I had been pretty happy with my simple little life teaching preschool, living with my sister.  I think part of it is that it will take years for me to accomplish what I want.  It will take at least two years to save up to even start the adoption process, plus another year or two to save up for a  down payment on a house when I get a child (luckily, real estate around my parents is fairy cheap in comparison to most areas).  So, I’ll be pushing 30 before any of this can happen.  That bums me out.

Going to the Chapel July 4, 2009

Note: This is a pity post so consider yourself warned.

 

I feel like all of my exes are either married or getting married.  Okay, not all – I’m pretty sure Hunter isn’t engaged or anything.  I just found out today that the guy I crushed on really bad in high school (we were so cute – met at a “barn dance” – literally, it was “love” at first sight and he eventually had his first kiss with me) is married.  No idea when it happened or anything – we just became facebook friends and that’s how I discovered it.  I am so disappointed.  I never wanted anything with him (he’s kind of a man-whore) but he was fun to flirt with every few years when we saw each other.  Damn.

 

Carter is engaged.  How you go from getting a ring for one girl one month and proposing two a different one two months later, I don’t know.  Most of the time that doesn’t bother me a whole lot because we never talk anymore.  I made it clear that I would never be able to believe a word out of his mouth again, thus making a friendship impossible. 

 

The guy who I consider to be my “first love” is engaged.  We dated on and off all the way through high school.  Only had sex once though – in the bed of his truck on a country road (it wasn’t enjoyable though – I was too damn nervous about getting caught!)  Shortly after the truck incident we had a falling out and didn’t talk for four years.  We are now to the point where we can socialize fairly comfortably if we’re ever in the same place together.  And, he’s still just as hot as he was in high school.  Damn. 

 

I know all three of those guys aren’t meant for me.  For one, none of them are kinky.  The first guy from high school is far too much of a goofball for me (I like a goofy guy but he takes it to an extreme) and I highly doubt he could successfully make a lifetime commitment to someone.  Carter obviously isn’t the one considering he’s a pathological liar.  The “first love” guy is obnoxious and says inappropriate things in public.  My parents always called him “a fart in a skillet.” 

 

It bothers me that it bothers me that they’re married/engaged.  It makes me fear that I never will be.  Which I remind myself wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.  I will still have children and be happy, even if I don’t ever get married.  But obviously I would prefer to spend my life with someone.  I guess I just feel like a loser since I haven’t met anyone yet (yes, I know that’s stupid!)  My exes are getting married and I’m hardly even dating anyone. 

 

/pity party

Self-Esteem June 30, 2009

Yesterday we took the kids to the pool.  As we were getting out at the end of the day, I saw the male adult in our group talking to a group of punk kids (not punk in the spiked hair, black clothes way – in the rotten shitty kid type).  My co-worker is the big, confident, intimidating type.  I overheard him say to the kids, “Just knock it off.”  Turns out, the punk kids had been making fun of another boy who was at the pool who was extremely light complected and had dark hair (the contrast did give him an unusual appearance).  I’ve always considered my co-worker to be kind of a dumb-jock type but damn was I attracted to him when I saw him put those punks in their place.  But, I digress. 

 

My heart absolutely broke for the boy who was getting made fun of.  I can’t even describe it.  Imagining how he felt and how that would stick with him depressed me for the rest of the day.  I am a complete bleeding heart when it comes to kids getting bullied. 

 

My co-worker (not the one who intervened with the punks) and I discussed it today.  She expressed similar feelings to mine and elaborated that it was because she’d experienced it so much herself growing up.  That blew me away.  This girl is absolutely beautiful, is one of the most positive people I know, and one of the most amazing teachers I’ve ever worked with.  I wish I could BE her.  She explained that she had really big ears and really bad teeth as a child and was made fun of relentlessly for it.  It effects her still today – even though she has a lot of self-confidence now she does a lot to maintain herself out of fear of being made fun of again.

 

I was teased immensely as a child because of my weight (looking back, I wasn’t even THAT overweight as a child, I guess I was just an easy target).  I made the comment to my co-worker today that while the teasing hurt at the time, there weren’t really any long-term effects.  For the most part, I feel decent about myself.  Yeah, there are definitely things I need to work on but I know deep down that I’m a good person.  I’m not always flattering about myself when it comes to physical traits because I know for a fact that a lot of people don’t find me to be attractive but I don’t think that horribly of myself in a physical sense.  I’m not repulsed when I look at myself in the mirror or anything along those lines so I never really felt I had a serious problem.  Anyway, my co-worker challenged my theory that there weren’t really any lasting effects from the childhood teasing. 

 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that perhaps I am still dealing with some effects.  I have always been significantly more comfortable with people older than me than people my age.  Maybe part of that is because it used to be that people my age made fun of me and on a subconscious level I still equate teasing with my peers.  I assume that people think the worst of me – which may seem contradictory to the knowing I’m a good person thing but really it’s not (at least not in my mind!)  At least one of my therapy sessions was spent on this.  I was convinced my boss thought I was doing a horrible job – that she disliked me when in fact she hadn’t actually said anything along those terms.  She hadn’t even done anything to really convey that impression either – I read into a few minor things and completely ignored the real, substantive compliments she had given me. 

 

I guess maybe I do have more baggage from my childhood than I thought.  Crap.

I guess it’s something! June 30, 2009

I haven’t weighed myself in about a month but I can tell I’ve lost a little weight!  Wanna know how I can tell?  My watch is looser!  Yeah, that’s right – the first place I “lose weight” is in my wrist and fingers.  Seriously!  Why can’t my tummy be the first place it goes?!  No guy looks at a girl and says, “Wow, she has thin wrists.  That’s hot!” 

 

Bi-side Showing Itself June 23, 2009

While I identify as bisexual, I rarely give thought to pursuing a relationship with a female.  On Fetlife they have the term “hetero-flexible.”  Maybe that’s more of what I am.  I don’t really check girls out or anything like that.  But there’s this one girl.  I met her in the spring when my preschool class went to a local horse farm for a field trip.  She’s the daughter of the farm owners and is all about the family business.  There’s nothing about her that blatantly sticks out as an attraction – like how some people have killer smiles or contagious personalities or are “hot”.  But damn, I want her.  I can’t describe the attraction, where it comes from or why exactly it’s there.  It’s strong though.  It’s somewhat sexual, but definitely not a kinky attraction.  I don’t have a gay-dar at all (I was about the only person who didn’t realize my sister was gay before she officially came out) so there’s no reason to think she even swings that way.

 

We went to the horse farm with school kids today.  She was there of course and there was more conversation than in the spring. I may see her again next year when my preschool class goes again.  Obviously nothing will ever come of it.  But I doubt I will ever forget her.  I don’t recall ever having such a distinct and strong immediate attraction to someone.

The Written Word June 20, 2009

I just got back from vacation!  I can’t even remember if I mentioned I was leaving or not.  Each year my family goes “up North” fishing for a week.   We go to the same place every year, get the same cabins every year and pretty much do the same stinking things every year.  I love it actually.  One of our traditions is to play “Phase 10″ (it’s a card game), which often takes multiple nights given that there’s usually at least 6 people playing.  We have a traveling trophy that is a fish to hang on the wall that says “Gone Fishing.”  It’s not as tacky as it sounds, I swear.  Anyway, I won!  For the third year in a row (and really, I’ve won 4 of the last 5 years…the one year I didn’t win I wasn’t able to go on the vacation).   Yeah, I rock. I know it.  /sarcasm

I’m not a huge fisherperson so I just hang out in the cabin or on the boat and read a lot.  One of the books I read this year (I usually get through at least three) was “The Guersney Literary& Potato Peel Pie Society.”  Sounds like the dumbest book ever, doesn’t it?  Our family friend brought the book for herself to read but I started it because I had already read the two books I’d brought along.  I do read a lot but I rarely read good/high quality books – you know, more literature than just a good story – classics or Oprah Book Club quality.  I read murder mysteries mostly, by people who pump out a new book every other month or so (James Patterson, J.D. Robb, Faye Kellerman, Tami Hoag, etc.) I read before bed every night – when it’s too hard to understand the old English of Jane Austen and I’m too out of it to read too much into something.

 

But, I think I need to work on pushing myself to read more literature-like books.  I have *really* enjoyed the last few higher-quality books I’ve read recently – Memoirs of  a Geisha, Kite Runner, A Thousand Splendid Suns, Ashes to Ashes, and now Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. The books I listed weren’t really difficult to read ( like classics) but I’ve read so many “literary” best sellers that were utterly boring, that I’m hesitant to try any more.  While a murder mystery may not be deep, it surely is never boring!

 

Anyway, to the Guersney story.  The book is a series of letters written amongst a group of friends in Europe & Guersney Island (I don’t think that’s what it’s official name but I don’t feel like looking it up) after the WWII Occupation.  I loved the honesty and wittiness of the characters and it made me miss the quality of the written word that hardly exists anymore.  There’s something so pure and personal in the hand-written word of the past (even in notes to friends) that just doesn’t seem to exist in e-mail, blogs, or text. 

 

We celebrated my parent’s 40th anniversary while we were on vacation.  I immensely enjoy hearing stories about their past.  One of my favorites is the one about my dad in Vietnam.  My mom wrote him every single day (they weren’t married yet, or even engaged).  He was the envy of all the guys at mail call because there was *always* something for him.  While I’m sure troops appreciate getting e-mails from their loved ones daily (and how amazing it his how often internet access is available to them!) I have little doubt a hand written note would bring at least a little more comfort.  Kind of like how a note in the snail mail would more often than not bring a bigger smile to our face than an e-mail or text.  Part of me wishes I lived in a time when written (as opposed to typed) correspondence was the norm.  It’s something so trivial yet for some unknown reason carries significance for me.

 

Another little story about my parents, Vietnam & the written word.  In my mom’s purse is my dad’s army picture.  On the back it starts out with “My dearest Lydia…”  It sounds cheesy and generic but he meant it whole-heartedly.  Everything he wrote on the back is equally as sincere and sweet.  In this digital age, items like that are becoming more and more rare.  That’s sad to me because that picture is something my mom obviously still cherishes and something I will cherish after they’re gone.  For future generations, saved e-mails and pictures with filenames of “IMG_009933862″ just won’t have the sentimental value that a handwritten note or original photograph would have.