Hidden In Plain Sight

I’ve had a lot of sex in my life. Well, in the first half anyway. I was very promiscuous and not at all selective. I believed my value came from being wanted. And I was not only wanted, I knew how to make myself wanted… the “ideal girl.”

Reading a book today, a paragraph stood out that made me realise something I hadn’t realised before. I have had a lot of sex, yes, however, he wrote about an experience that he considered to be a near perfect sexual encounter. I asked Sir if He had had an experience that He considered to be near perfect, or even simply amazing, to which He replied that yes, He had had a few.

My heart dropped, and familiar tears made their way to my eyes, followed by the old gang… inadequacy, envy, sadness and defeat. As I sat there with a heavy heart, thinking about how I’d never had an encounter that I’d consider to be anywhere near being even particularly amazing, let alone near perfection, I realised something. In all of those encounters, there was one common denominator. Me.

It came to my realisation that there is a very distinct possibility that my interactions have been mediocre simply because I am a mediocre lover. Stepping away from the pity party, something became very clear…

I don’t allow myself to receive. Therefore I don’t allow others to give. My interactions with others, especially in a sexual capacity, have always been one-sided. A safety mechanism. Me as the giver, them as the receiver. Me actively avoiding any possibility of being a receiver. Receiving, to me, is a vulnerability I’ve never been prepared to allow myself to acknowledge, let alone share with another. There is power in being the one who doesn’t lose control, even if momentarily in the throes of orgasm.

So how can I possibly be a lover who will experience great sex, if I won’t even allow proper connection? If I won’t allow someone to give me the gift of satisfying me?

I have waited all my life in the hope of finding someone who would simply take it upon themselves to unlock my sexual prowess, to unleash my inner sexual goddess, to help me overcome my fears and shortcomings and insecurities. To know my body and desires, and simply pluck them from my body with unreserved entitlement. Basically… a mind reader. Because I haven’t wanted to do the work myself. I realise now that satisfaction isn’t a one-way street. We all get satisfaction from knowing we are giving our other, regardless of how they identify, what it is that nourishes their soul.

Spreading your legs doesn’t make you a great lover. Opening your heart does. I have come to realise that there are more ways to give than by simply giving. Receiving is a way of allowing others the gift of giving to us, therefore giving them the gift of being receptive to their love and kindness and care and desire to make us feel good. I see so much more clearly now why I’ve had a lifetime of mediocre sex.

I will cease making it all about me and my giving. Almost making the other feel like they’re asking so much of me. The sacrificial martyr. Ugh.

Instead I will receive with a willingness that understands that I am being given a gift, and to allow the other to give that to me.

Whatever you look for, you will find.

Look for a lovely thing and you will find it…

Look for an ugly thing and you will find it…

So… this is way out of my comfort zone on so many levels. But… here’s to a clear diagnosis for my mammogram ?. My boobies aren’t trying to kill me! I’ve never loved them more than right now ?

It has been a very stressful few months waiting to see what the lump was that I felt. A cyst. Apparently very common. If we pay attention, we can get in early when we notice changes.

Get your girls checked, ladies. If anything, it will bring you peace of mind.

And…

Here they are… a celebration of these lovely bits of me ???

Love has been the theme for me this past week. This morning brought with it an interesting epiphany. Somewhere along the lines, I picked up the belief that “earned” love is more valuable than “freely-given” love. Interestingly though… at the same time, I made a promise that I wouldn’t be the type of person who made others need to earn my love… I wanted to give it freely.

A side thought… does this mean that I see my love as less valuable?

Receiving freely-given love has always felt unfamiliar and unsafe. And if I’m truly being honest, a little bit boring. There’s no drama if there’s no struggle… and the truth of the truth is that those of us with addictive personalities sure like (the) “passion” (of some good old drama). I always pined to be accepted and seen and loved for who I am… and yet I wanted to struggle and work and feel that I needed to earn that. Why? Because it seems somehow more “romantic”?

My last Master gave me the gift of experiencing being given love freely. At the time I rejected it and even fought against it. I also learned that my love wasn’t as freely given as I believed. It’s not until now that I even became capable of recognising that that’s one of the many gifts He gave me, as I now find myself in His position… learning to truly nurture that in myself and give that gift to another. I didn’t realise that above everything, He was actually teaching me how to love, in a real way, not the (I see now) childish way I had always thought was love. I now see too that this is why, confusingly, throughout all the struggles, my heart both rejected, and felt safe with Him.

It makes me wonder… will I still have the drive to be a slave if my drive doesn’t come from a place of needing to “earn” love? What if my slavery came from a place of strength? Of believing that I am already loved? That I am already enough? What if my slavery came from a place of trusting that I will always have enough to give? What if I learn that it is my purpose to help Him believe in Himself, simply by loving Him in a way that feels safe so that He too can believe He is loved and enough and doesn’t need to “earn” love?

But I need help to do that. I need the help of those whose guidance I trust. Is it wrong for me to go to Others to seek that guidance? They say it takes a village to raise a child. Perhaps too it takes a village to be a slave?

Maybe that’s our difference…

You seek perfection.

I seek quite the opposite.

“I want to look like I was never afraid to let the world take me by the hand and show me what it’s made of. I want to leave this place knowing I did something with my body other than trying to make it look perfect.” - Rupi Kaur.

As I knelt beside Him, my hair firmly in His grasp, I watched as she sucked His cock with a skill and focus that stirred in me a mixture of envy and absolute awe. A tenderness and kinship in the understanding of the small idiosyncrasies we share when experiencing these situations. Deep fascination at watching from the outside and seeing how everything occurs and looks when one is not amongst it all firsthand. And a warmth and  appreciation at how much pleasure she brought Him. Well… and the fact that it was very, very, hot.

What a wonderful beginning. Fingers crossed there are many more to come…

Being unwilling to move a muscle…

despite the growing aching in my joints,

Sandwiched between Sir and our puppy dog…

the best place in the world,

Because I’ve realised that I’m just as much Home for them…

as they both are for me.

“Can I masturbate please, Sir?”

‘If you plug yourself, come in here, get under the desk, and worship my balls while I have a wank to porn.’

My heart sank. For some reason this annoyed me. I was super horny, and had already mapped out my plan… getting into the shower and using the jet stream of the shower head to find that blissful yumminess of water stimulation… a definite favourite for me.

I sat there as I contemplated that not only had that whole plan just flown out the window, it was now unlikely I would cum at all because I would be focused on Him. I got more annoyed. Dragged my feet. Got up slowly and went to put my plug in. I was so horny dammit! I just wanted to cum! I just wanted a private moment to myself for my own pleasure!

But… no.

I went into His study, crawled under the desk (rather unenthusiastically), spread my legs, began touching myself, and licking His balls. I knew straight away that I wasn’t going to cum. And I knew straight away that He was going to cum quickly. As I was licking, He began stroking His cock, and said casually, ‘you will never masturbate alone again. It will either be with Me or with another slave when we have one… but never alone again.’

There are usually always two internal responses for me. A part that finds things super hot, and a part that hates it (but finds that super hot also). This time however, there was also a little bit of anger. He touched on something. Something very deep, and something very personal.

When He came, I cleaned up His yummy goodness (for some reason He tastes soooooo good), and asked if I could go and shower. I then got in the shower and masturbated. This is the first time I have directly defied my Master. It was such a “fuck you.” It brought such curiosity because a) I pride myself on being a good girl, and b) since my first wanderings into this way of life my orgasms have basically been “owned” by someone or other. I’ve been asking permission to masturbate for so long now it seems odd when I don’t have anyone to ask. And yet I realised something this morning. I had never really truly given my orgasms away. Or perhaps I should say, I have never truly shared the privacy of my orgasms. I have never invited or allowed anyone to share that aspect of my sexuality. Everything else, yes. But my orgasms, no. For me they’ve always been super private and for me only. I don’t know why. Perhaps because I grew up in a family that allowed me no privacy whatsoever, so that is the one thing I kept just for me. But for some reason, this order felt so intrusive. It’s the first time I’ve experienced anything that has truly challenged me. Truly challenged a deep part of me. And I still don’t know how I feel about it. I’m scared I guess. I don’t like the thought of giving Him that level of power. I can’t believe He found it. My kryptonite. I’m angry. I’m scared that I’ll never get to orgasm again. I’m annoyed that He has now made everything I have, completely about Him. I wanted to keep that selfish little part just for me, and He has ruined that… and I didn’t even realise I felt that way until now. I’m angry that He has permeated every part of me… without me controlling it. Such a swift card to play. And some part of me thinks He knows. That He’s been holding onto that one. That all this time He has seen me better than I expected. Bastard.

The irony is that I have craved to be seen authentically, my entire life. I have craved handing over that power and vulnerability. I crave enthusiastic subservience. And now, feeling so exposed, I don’t like it. I don’t like having nowhere to hide. It makes me feel so fragile.

The problem also is that it really, really turns me on…

We were willing to see each other as our future. 
Would we still hold on this tight?

Or would we let go?