Noodles, Anyone?

last June...

I had been thinking about the fact that every sexual escapade BG & I have had so far has been some sort of an experiment in submission for me. Not a complaint, just an observation. Because, although I am only an egg, I would have guessed that even in a D/s relationship, you'd occasionally have garden-variety sex.
But then I thought, "Pad Thai."

See, I really like all kinds of Thai food. There's Green Curry, Cashew Chicken, Basil Chicken, Spicy Beef Salad... Yummy, all. But I don't get out to eat all that often. So despite the many fine things on offer, by the time I get to a Thai restaurant, all I want is my favorite dish.
Which would be -- you got it -- Pad Thai.

Now, BG and I only get to see each other for possibly a couple of hours maybe once a month. (IF his schedule cooperates.) This is dramatically less than the statistically-proclaimed 57 minutes a week of the average American sex life. Although to a woman who had such a long dry spell, once a month is still a thing of beauty. But it doesn't leave a lot of time for green curry, either.

And, I'll be honest, it's not a big deal. I like our dynamic, I adore the way we play. But I am affectionate and I sometimes miss the tactile details. Can only be but so tactile with bound hands, tho'...

Oh, well. Maybe once in a while I'll get satay for an appetizer...

Of Bras and Boobs

I'm pretty confident that wenches aren't shy about their bodies, so this seemed an appropriate post to wind up my Wench Week. It's something I've actually been pondering for a while. (Pay attention, there's a quiz at the end...)

It started when I treated myself to a brand-spankin'-new bra the other day. Pretty, fresh, not yet fatigued by excessive demands on the very fiber of it's being, this is a thing of beauty. However..., but...
I wouldn't call them The Breasts That Ate Tokyo but they're not small, OK? So, virgin elastic means exuberant cleavage. And that is an uneasy situation.

See, cleavage and I have some long-standing issues. The girls can be particular. They demand (and often get) an entire extra size all their own. They are neither vain nor shy but they do not hesitate to claim their space. It's not attention-seeking. (They could always type a quick note if that were the case.) Rather, they're actually fairly demure, except in specifically-designated situations. But they really, really don't like it when you dress like they're not there. For that, they extract revenge by making the outfit look like an overstuffed lunch-bag twisted at the neck. Conversely, put them in something pretty and let them see the light of day and they repay you by taking 10 pounds off of your perceptible weight.
But if you do that, you run the risk of exposing cleavage, a thing girls somehow learn should not happen.

I struggled to walk the fine line until finally, about four years ago, I totally gave up the effort to dress around my chest. I was fed up with looking like a sack of potatoes, all in the name of modesty. I pitched the loose shirts with jewel necklines and started to buy clothing that was flattering, even if it did expose some cleavage. Within the bounds of decorum but still, it's there.

Nor am I the only woman with what SP calls "Breasts of Substance" who has arrived at this point. I've spoken with several who feel the same way. Cleavage Happens. If the overall picture is reasonably pleasing despite that fact, so be it. There is only so much one can do, after all. The girls themselves are well-covered. You can't see to China, there's no advertising. They're just, well, there, OK? Why is this a problem?

Yet I've had enough hot debates with friends about this to wonder if I'm missing something. Male and female, there are still plenty of people out there who find it inappropriate, or are offended, or get put off, or become excessively titillated by even the most vestigial of cleavage.
I Don't Get It.
But I will admit, I could be hampered by the fact that I have NEVER understood the so-called "Power of the Tatas" either. Know that scene in Notting Hill where Julia Roberts is looking totally baffled over what the big deal is about breasts? That's me.

I think it's from growing up in a beach community. Entire neighborhoods spent summers in bathing suits and not much else. You saw a lot of flesh and thought nothing of it. Strangely enough, it did NOT whip everyone into orgiastic frenzies. It was just another aspect of the person, that was all.

As a result, I don't have a lot of understanding of someone who treats glimpses of bodies with anything other than mild interest. Unless you're in a situation that requires a more intensive personal interest, of course. But in casual everyday encounters? I can't imagine that anyone's any more interested in looking at me than I am at looking at them.

But I'm ready to consider all views.
So- Cleavage. Yea or Nay?

Prepare to Be Humbled

(Truly)

From BBC online news Jan. 25, 2010:

Except that since this was posted, the total is up to £171,647.97.
Let me type that again.  £171,647.97
That's $277,108.48 - so far. The number's still climbing.

His name is Charlie. He says in this interview that "I saw the pictures on TV and I didn't think it was quite nice so I wanted to do a sponsored bike ride."

From the mouth of babes.

Seven years old and he's already done more good for humanity than most of us put together.

Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!
http://www.justgiving.com/CharlieSimpson-HAITI
(just copy and paste and spare Unicef's blushes...)


Update April 27, 2010--
£210,262.69  ($322,627.00)

Using our Nice Words

Well, it's National No Name-Calling week, which aims to end "name-calling of all kinds." As you might guess, I support anything that encourages people to attend to what they are actually saying when they speak.

To do my bit, then, I thought I'd change the title of my blog for the duration. You know, go for a kinder, gentler word than the perjorative "bitch" - while staying true to the meaning.

So let's check out some synonyms.
Depending on which definition of bitch you use, these include:

bowwow, cur, doggy, fido, flea bag, hound, man's best friend, mongrel, mutt, pooch, pup, puppy, stray, tail-wagger, tyke

Don't think so. Dog references can be touchy. Let's just say no and move on... 

amazon, backbiter, battle-ax, biddy, calumniator, carper, detractor, dragon, fire-eater, fishwife, fury, harpy, harridan, hell cat, hellion, hussy, madcap, muckraker, nag, ogress, old biddy, porcupine, reviler, scold, she-devil, she-wolf, siren, spitfire, termagant, tigress, virago, vituperator, vixen, wench

Wow. That really DOES make one "spiteful, overbearing, unpleasant or irritating," doesn't it? But on the other hand, there are possibilities here. I'll come back to this bunch. Next!...

bawd, femme fatale, floozy, harlot, hooker, hussy, jade, loose woman, scarlet, slut, strumpet, tart, trollop, vamp, whore

Slut and trollop ARE two of BG's favorite terms for me - but I'm not convinced that they don't fall into the perjorative category themselves.
And I'm pretty sure that someone who has sex as infrequently as I do (pause for silent scream) shouldn't aggrandize herself by choosing floozy or harlot.  - Correct me if I'm wrong.

milquetoast, baby, big baby, crybaby, gutless wonder, lightweight, mollycoddle, mother's darling, namby-pamby, pansy, sissy, softy, teacher's pet   

These are really more for the "weak male" definition. Inappropriate. Pass.

annoyance, bore, bother, burden, encumbrance, hang-up, hindrance, impediment, nuisance, pain, pest, pill, sway, trouble

Hmmm. "A difficult person or thing"... A Reluctant Annoyance? ...

Let's go back to Set # 2.

I like the sound of calumniator but it means a liar. Not me. Clearly not harpy - they're bad; hellion confers too much importance on my mischief; I'm not yet ready to be an old biddy; spitfires rarely consider themselves detached; tigress is cool but perhaps misleading.

Amazon? It's neither perjorative nor deceptive. I am a tall, strong woman. It even has a bookish undertone that suits my personality.

But I think I'll go with... Wench.
I've always wanted to be a wench so I'm going to seize my chance.
Wench for a Week.
(Of course, if I'm eager to be a wench, then "reluctant" becomes problematic but I have decided to ignore the trifling details.)

Now that I have that settled, I must move on to the hard part of No-Name Calling week: Eliminating the word "pea-head" from my vocabulary for seven days.
THAT oughta prove interesting...

What word will you abandon for the week?

A Thing I've Been Meaning to Say...

M directed me over to subbrooke's blog the other day. The content warning at the top of her site says, "i like sex and i talk about it here." And she does, by golly. It's a fun read and you should check it out for yourselves... but I'm not here to talk about her blog.

Instead, let's talk about sex. Or, more precisely, the scarcity of it on my blog. (Oh. You're leaving now? 'K, bye!)

There are a couple of reasons for why it's not all hot and steamy here.. One is that I'm in a relationship that doesn't get a lot of time. I'd love to give you daily blow-by-blow descriptions of last night's mad romp in my bedroom. (Living room, kitchen, at The Door...)
Well, actually, no. I'd rather have the mad romps and simply sit here, smirking. Not an option right now, however. So there just isn't that much fodder for the prurient.

Beyond that, though, is a philosophical reason. I started writing after I began exploring the D/s corner of the blogosphere, trying to cull information that would help me integrate this newly-realized aspect of myself. 

As I read, I didn't see a lot of people who approach D/s the way BG & I (or SP) approach it, as people who confine their D/s to certain arenas or situations. At first, I found caricatures, chest-thumping Doms and abased slaves.
Not what I want, not who I am.

As I kept reading, I did find the real people but they tended to be lifestyle and still didn't seem to be writing about D/s as I experience it. And then, of course, there were those who just dismissed our approach entirely, writing it off as "dabbling."
Great. I've barely started and already I feel invalidated...

Except that I firmly believe that there are no hard and fast rules when it comes to any aspect of sexuality. ("The body does not know right or wrong...") So I decided to speak out from the situational viewpoint, partially to let others know that they are not alone. Because I am certain there are more out there than just the people mentioned above. (Even if they don't usually comment, she hints broadly.)

Submission has become a very important part of my life. My friends, (who know nothing officially but cannot help but wonder) have noted that even though the situation with BG isn't ideal, I am much calmer and more self-confident now. I've found my center, a huge benefit, even if we are doing a "molasses in January" thing.

But submission is not all there is to my life.  It may sit at the core but I don't think about it every waking moment of the day. There's still a great big world out there - a fairly fun one, in fact.

So, with that divided concentration, how to keep the blog on topic?

   I could add drama by tracking the sturm und drang of the inner conflict that occurs when you try to reconcile a new you to an old self image. It's there. But I'm not really a sturm und drang kind of gal. I fight my battles with humor, even in the trenches.

   I could post naughty pictures. But I lack sufficient exhibitionism.
(Instead, please accept my assurance that I have all the original parts, in good working order, which come in standard quantities. Since I know some of you worry that I have only one eye...) ;-)

   I could write naughty stories. Which I do sometimes - but my muse is unreliable.

   I could also just write less often. Which wasn't a very appealing option, frankly.

After a long think, I eventually decided to make my blog just reflect me. Sometimes it deals with submission, sometimes not. Sometimes I think deep thoughts, sometimes (ever so occasionally) I descend into silliness. It's a mixed bag, as are we all.

I realize this fails the people who like to gnaw on profundities about their dynamic. On the other hand, I hope it might help to reassure some other newbie who worries that she's not sufficiently intense to join this club.
Don't worry, my unknown friend. All you really need is to be yourself.

As for this blog, I hope you'll stick around despite the lacuna. 
I promise to try to keep things interesting ...

Phone Calls

He always phones when he gets to my exit.
This gives me about 4 minutes.

Often the instructions are fairly easy:
"Have on a bra, panties, and a robe. Clothespins nearby.
That's enough for now."

Other times, I'm scrambling:
"Shut the curtains, we'll be downstairs to start. Have the rope on the table but move the table away from the couch. I want a candle lit in the hallway. I expect you to be wearing lingerie that I've never seen before. When I come through the door, you will be lying on the couch, masturbating. I want you dripping wet and ready to come. Have BOB and the clothespins with you. I want the plug and the lube set out upstairs."

Occasionally, I'm scratching my head:
"I want you in sexy panties only, with your nipple clips on. Point them so the beads are at the top, not hanging down like you had them in the pictures last night." 

Or there are no details, just warnings:
"I've got five minutes. Make it good."

Oddly though, the stern instructions are the easiest.

It's when I hear a chuckle and, "Are you ready to play?" that I know:
I am in big trouble...!

A Life of the Mind

"Detachment is a rare virtue, and very few people find it lovable, either in themselves or in others. If you ever find a person who likes you in spite of it--still more, because of it--that liking has very great value, because it is perfectly sincere, and because, with that person, you will never need to be anything but sincere yourself."  - Dorothy Sayers, Gaudy Night
******************************************

Greengirl and I were discussing the subject of detachment. She had commented in a recent post that she used to be very detached during sex. That her mind would wander, but now "pain keeps me in the moment and in the place."  I'm sure that to many, the concept of experiencing sex in the third person seemed a bit foreign. But I know exactly what she is saying.

I'm not sure that I agree with Ms. Sayers that detachment is a virtue. To me, it's more of a knack, one that tends to become a habit. (It's pleasant up here, floating with unsullied feet above the muddy ground of involvement, after all.) Whatever else tho', it is a fascinating trick of the mind, not just because of what it does but also WHY.

Sometimes, one is detached (;-p) simply because one just isn't bothered. If you can't engage me and bring me in to the now, my mind will stay on that academic plane in which it seems to operate best.

Detachment is also a form of self-defense. If you put some distance between yourself and the situation, you're less likely to get hurt. That distance acts as both shield and obfuscation. It creates a space that protects the Inner Marshmallow.

Often, however, detachment is simply the means to an objective appraisal. You have to be able to step back in order to consider all perspectives. I've been trained in detachment all my life. I'm a tech who troubleshoots for a living, I was educated by Jesuits, and as a little kid, I was always told to, "Stop and THINK about it..." I am indeed a practitioner.

The difficulty with that, however, is the possibility of getting stuck at a distance. It becomes very easy to hide amid the big picture. Detachment lets you surf above your emotions and sometimes you lose your knack of expressing them. SP once suggested that my writing was sometimes "too distant, too academic", and that I ran the risk of my words being nothing but "a sort of philosophical treatise."
His charmingly-worded advice was that I should "Speak straight from the cunt."

A valid point but for those of us who tend toward detachment, it can be tricky. A lot of times, we need help coming back down to solid ground. We are so used to reining ourselves in that we may require assistance letting ourselves go.

That's where, as gg noted, masochism can come into play. Or, more accurately for me, masochism and submission. I'm not sure if pain keeps me in the moment so much as it snaps the cords that keep me aloft and I plummet back down into my body, with all of the attendant sensation and joy. Once back into the here and now, focusing on my submission, attending to his reactions, policing my own, these all occupy my mind sufficiently that I stay in the moment. When I'm kneeling in front of him, I am NEVER thinking about how I should really be mowing the lawn right now...

People make the mistake of viewing detachment as being dispassionate. While I can't speak for every detached person, I don't think that's the case. We may not express our emotions as well but that certainly doesn't mean we don't have them - we just don't reveal them easily. A former beau once noted that, "Unrestrained volatility is not to be confused with passion." Passions are deeply-felt and highly-personal emotions. They are no less strong directed from the head, not the heart. It could even be argued that by evaluating before we commit to unleashing the tiger, we create a focused channel that maximizes the effect of the feelings.

And isn't that the same thing that submission is meant to do?

******************************************
When his lips had reluctantly freed themselves, [Peter] had said:
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake the whole zoo. But I'm glad, my God! to know it's there-and no shabby tigers either." ...
"Nobody else, thought Harriet, had apparently suspected the tiger..."  -Dorothy Sayers, Busman's Honeymoon

A Few Things I MUST Stop Doing

1- Applying generous quantities of hand cream and then picking up a curvy 50 lb. computer to carry.

(Particularly when I'm going all the way to my car...)

2- Buying slinky lingerie because of how it looks on the model.

(that's not me in the picture, in case you were wondering...)

3- Neglecting to account for the difference in density between snow and gravel when filling my shovel during post-plowing cleanup.

(*Ow!*)

4- Shopping for clothing anytime between Thanksgiving and February 1st.

(OK, not me, either. But a closer simulacrum this time...)

5- Eating Christmas cookies.

(ah. yes. well... *ahem!*)

Thinking Out Loud

Scholarly_Professor: How is Spankmaster?
Jz: well, I don't really know. I sent an email that I think threw him into a tizz again
Scholarly_Professor: Oh baby, people don't tizz as fast as you think
Jz: not even Doms in mid-separation anxiety, who are overloaded, stressed to their limits, and maybe only want me as a fucktoy anyhow?
Scholarly_Professor: especially not them
Jz: *raises eyebrow sceptically*

******************************************
The n00b is having a hard time figuring out how to allow for dominance in the "romantic" side of a relationship. I entered a situation already fraught with difficulties (his separation, his demanding and ridiculous work schedule, his kids, etc. ...) All tough, but I've experienced them before. Now, however, I also have to factor in his dominance.

I spoke a few posts back about how easy it is to get lazy and stop putting effort into the original agreement of any relationship.

But how is a sub supposed to address the matter when her dom is not holding up part of his end? It doesn't matter how carefully you shape your words, the bottom line is that nobody likes being corrected. And the more the correction is warranted, the less palatable it is.
He's no fool. It's warranted. And he's not going to be happy with me.

Of course, I'm not happy, either. Which is the whole point. I don't want to be getting after him. That's not my job. All I've ever wanted is to be his place to escape from the madness. But there are things I've asked for all along that he's always agreed to in principle yet somehow generally neglects to do. I understand why and know the reason has very little to do with me and how he feels about me. But the fact remains, I'm the one getting the short end of the stick. And, sorry dude, but if you wanted a doormat, you hooked up with the wrong chick. I'm easy-going as long as you hold up your end of the deal. Slack off and I'm going to let you know that I've noticed.

But how? I want (and am entitled) to voice my concerns but I want to do so in an appropriate manner. What I need to address does not fall under the heading of TTWD, but it's still a Dom I'm talking to, with a Dom's personality. I don't want to offend either the Dom or the Man. Yet if I cater to the Dom too much, the point carries no weight.

I wonder if this would be something I'd find easier to do if we were not situational. If we were 24/7, I'd still be skating on thin ice but it would be clear that the dominance extends throughout the entire relationship and I could more easily gear my approach accordingly. But when your dynamic is more segmented, as ours is, the boundary blurs and becomes more problematic.

I took my best shot and we'll see how I make out.
But it's a troublesome question - with no easy answers.

Field Trip!

Spending a day or two breathing deeply while I try to take my own advice. (see previous post)
So no deep thoughts at the moment.
But I found this and decided it was too good not to share.

(A little late for Christmas but squeaks in under "Epiphany" I think...)

from Silhouette Masterpiece Theater

Wilhelm Staehle

Poke around the whole site. There's some good stuff...