Shifting Limits, Seeking Balance

So when I showed my husband this week's Wicked Wednesday prompt:

...he laughed and said something like, "You put up that sign all the time...and then... you get drunk...."

Somehow, at that point, the "off" becomes a bit blurry and starts to look more like "no". Funny how that happens - a little liquid courage...or better yet, a little liquid freedom.

So, that led me to consider: freedom from what, exactly? Where does my inner censor come from? Because quite honestly, even sober, sometimes a particular thing sounds good - and then at another time, it totally turns my stomach and freaks me out, making me question my own desires.

And then, of course, there are limits that stop being limits through experience. A good example would be anal sex, for me. I can remember, all the way back to college when I had anal sex for the first time. It was awful. Just sad, really. He sort of just shoved (or tried to shove) his dick in there, sans lube (ouch!), and I spent the remainder of the night curled up in the fetal position feeling embarrassed disappointment. I was so traumatized, I didn't even attempt it again until I met my husband, in my late 20s. It still makes me blush to talk about it, but I must admit, I enjoy it, and while it is no longer off limits, talking about it in any sort of depth is still uncomfortable. Why? I have no idea. My inner prude seems to think I'm a total slut sometimes and that having anal sex - and liking it - is proof. Why I'm worried about what my inner prude thinks is beyond me, because my inner slut thinks she's a fucking bore.

What else has been off limits? Non-monogamy comes to mind. But that one goes up and down for me. Sometimes it sounds like a ton of fun. Other times, it just sounds like work and eventual, unavoidable disappointment. In connection, non-monogamous exploits in our town of residence is another "off limits" turned "aw, what the fuck...might as well." Non-monogamous interactions with co-workers? Bosses? Friends? Yah...been there, done all of it...and lived to tell about it...reputations and relationships all happily in-tact.

Pretty much nothing that I would once have deemed "off limits" has come back to bite me in the ass once I've tried it. My emotions about and reactions to some of those events have done me some damage, but the actual events have caused no lasting harm to my life.

In fact, I have to say, with my track record, it's a wonder I say no to anything. Because, aside from so many disappointing male swingers, trying new things has never led me to ruin. And yet...I still dig in my heels and freak out any time my husband wants to try something new.

Nobody puts baby in a corner...but baby sure as hell puts herself there on a regular basis...

Tie me up? Okay. Awesome. No. I changed my mind. Okay. Yes, please.

Wartenberg wheel? Ow. I don't know. Maybe. Tonight it works. No...no! I can't take it! Let's try it again.

Discipline? Spanking? Makes me feel subjugated. Makes me feel impish. Makes me feel like disobeying more. Makes me feel indignant. Makes me feel horny. Spank me please! Fuck, that hurts. No more of that, please. I can't handle it any more.

Violet wand? Fuck no. Fuck no. Fuck no. ??? I don't know...maybe I could consider...maybe...if...

(Am I the only one with these weird bi-polar, shifting limits?)

Pretty much everything that I've tried, at one point in my life...it was off limits. Can't have sex...turned into...Can't have sex until I'm 16 (I self-imposed that rule...like most of my limitations). Can't have sex with someone I don't love...turned into...Can't have sex with someone I don't know. Can't have oral sex...but it's okay with ____________. Can't have unprotected sex...unless you really trust him. Can't have anal sex...became...Won't have anal sex...became...Okay, I'll try again...became...Awesome. Can't have sex with married people...morphed into...Can't have sex with married people who are cheating. Can't have sex with more than one person at a time. Can't have sex with a woman. Can't have sex in public. Can't have group sex. Can't have sex with an audience. Can't be filmed having sex. Can't talk about sex publicly. Can't publish naked photos of myself.

Every sex-related "can't" or "won't" has, over time, turned into a possibility or a reality...even a preference. At this point in my life, I don't think I could honestly say" never" to anything sexual that was consensual. My only worry is the idea of having no limits. For some people, that might sound like a whole lot of fun and completely freeing. But it terrifies me. Where does it end? Where does the experimentation end? When does it go too far? Because it can. It can always go too far. I think I have a whole lot in common with my dog...who needs to have a small, enclosed space to feel safe while she sleeps. That's how I am with my sexploration.

I suppose it's all about finding balance, which can be tricky when you only have to deal with yourself. It can be near impossible when you have to consider the needs and wants of two.

That's where Mr. LL and I are now - figuring out our limits, knowing those limits will shift with time, learning to be open to the changes. Well, I'll be honest...I'm learning to be open to the changes...or at least close my eyes, take his hands, wince, hold my breath, and trust him to lead me.

Now-a-days...the only things off limits in our sex life are sexual stagnation and avoidance of tough conversations about limits.

Am I starting to like it? WTF?

I never considered myself the spanking type. I'm not much into pain (small amounts in the right situations...you know, hair-pulling, rough sex). But, it's growing on me, and I'm beginning to understand the need that some people have for serious spanking sessions. That whole "out of body" experience, getting outside of one's self, can be freeing and cathartic. Some people do it with drugs. Others with alcohol. Still others with physical activity like running or sex. It's all about the endorphins. Regardless of how you get there, it's about the build up of tension followed by the intense release.

We all seek it in one form or another. And as I begin to find it in ways outside of alcohol (I can admit that me and wine are pretty close...and gin is a happy third wheel)...mainly through physical activity, and as Daddy and I continue to adapt and find what works best for us, I'm finding that the occasional spanking...that tiny bit of pain...isn't so much a "bad" thing. There's intrigue there. There's just a little fear. A lot of mental build-up. And then a sudden burst of pain followed by release.

The sting...ouch...I can do without (though I don't always have a choice). A nice solid smack with a hand...the flogger (which expands the pain into more than one place so it's not so intense)...the pretty pink rose that blooms on the skin afterward. Yeah, I can live with all of that. In fact, at certain moments, I actually find myself craving it.

Weird.

Plus...he likes it. He likes to smack my ass...he likes to see it turn pink with the shape of his hand. he likes to hear the crack of skin against skin...or spanking implement against skin (whichever). So it's hard to use it completely as a punishment. For now, it works, because I don't love it. But, what if it grows on me? Or better yet, what if I begin to want it? What if I start adding it my requests and it comes out sounding like...

Of course, it has a lot to do with me either being ready for it, and steeling myself against the pain, or simply being off my guard and not being ready for it. If I have too long to think about it, I build it up in my mind. I turn it into a much bigger deal than it is. I panic, and I make it worse than it is. But, I'm finding that my brain is turning on me. It's starting to consider it. It's starting to open up to it. 

I'm not sure if my brain is my friend or my enemy at this point.

He doesn't have to make me

Last night, he asked me to wash my face, take my clothes off, get in the bed, and present. But when I came out of the bathroom, he was lying in the bed, listening to a message on his phone (I thought he was talking to someone). So I lay beside him, sort of slipped into the covers, figuring I'd present when he was ready.

Problem.

I should have done what I was told to do. Regardless.

When He finished listening to his message, He asked me why I hadn't complied. I stammered an inadequate excuse but let it die on my tongue. I knew I was in the wrong.

Because, if we are going to make this work...He shouldn't have to make me. I should just do it.

He told me to "avert my gaze" as He opened the "toy drawer," telling me He was getting out my "favorite" spoon - the one I hate so much (the threat of a spanking, of course). I braced myself, expecting it. But it didn't come. He told me he wasn't going to punish me...because we haven't really worked that part of our contract out yet. He asked me if I felt like I was being treated like a child (a sticking point for me), but the funny thing is, I didn't.

It might sound trite, but this time feels different. We've been down this road several times, and it's never completely worked. Something's always been off. Not quite right. And while we still have quite a bit of work to do, I find myself feeling excited to begin. There is a noticeable absence of resistance. A feeling of calm. I find myself (my selfish, childish self) thinking more about Him than me...more about what He wants and what would make Him happy. This isn't just about me, after all. It's about us and what we both need from each other. And He doesn't have to make me His...I already am. It's just been a rocky road admitting it, completely.

Click to enlarge

Click here to see

who else is 

being wicked

Collared

I just love this picture.  It sums up my marriage in so many ways.

The world of D/s.  It can cause a great deal of confusion.  Even the people who are involved in it and have been for some time disagree on what it is and isn't.  Some say it must involve the standards of BDSM culture (leather, humiliation, pain...), others believe it is something a couple must determine and define for themselves.  I'm of the latter camp.

Some might also find it confusing why a perfectly sane, independent, capable woman would allow herself to be a man's possession.  They argue that giving in to a submissive role in the relationship undermines women's rights or sets us back 60 years on our path to equality.  I'm not sure that they're mutually exclusive though.  Can one not be a feminist and still be submissive by nature, choosing a submissive role in the relationship?  I, personally feel that D/s in no way diminishes the equality of the individuals involved or the respect that they have for one another.

I know, I know...I've read up on the "slave" business.  And I fully understand that those particular set-ups do not need to be based on love or respect or equality.  But they CAN be.  When love is at the center of the relationship, I actually think it is essential.  Honestly...if Mr. LL didn't love and respect me and see me as an equal contributor to our relationship, I wouldn't be as likely to be doing this.  Realistically, I wouldn't even be married to him.  But, as the case is...he does, so...why then am I doing it?

Simple.

Because I like it.

I like being told what to do...by him. I don't particularly like being bossed around by others...though I appreciate clear instructions and expectations from all of my "superiors" and rarely get them that way. I do like being "bossed" by Mr. LL because - it's just plain fucking sexy to have a man take the reigns and "have his way with me."

Several weeks ago, Mr. LL proposed that I wear a collar. Something subtle. Something classy. Something only he and I would really recognize as a symbol of his "ownership" of me. I wasn't sold on the idea right away. We began searching and had a ridiculously hard time agreeing on what it should look like. What he liked and what I liked were on opposite ends of the spectrum.

My Idea

His Idea

Not to mention, I have a sensitive neck. My skin rashes rather easily...and if a collar is too tight, and I sweat...I'm gonna have a red ring around my neck that will be neither sexy nor comfortable. So, I was more interested in looser versions. But, Mr. LL won out (go figure) and ordered a "training collar" of his choosing...just to see if I liked it and to see if it would fit correctly (as it had to be custom made to fit my neck) before shelling out the cash on the more expensive one.

So, he sends me a text today...telling me to look on my pillow when I get home...which I do - the minute I walk in the door.  And inside pink tissue paper bound ribbon, was this...

Navigating the waters of sexual evolution on your own is complicated.  Navigating them with a partner is more so.  All the negotiations.  And that's certainly where we are right now...the negotiation table.  Researching, discussing, researching some more, trying things out, discussing, and coming up with our initial "rules of engagement".

So far...as mentioned last night - we have the beginning stages of a list of rules:

1)  I am not allowed to wear clothing to bed when Mr. LL is home.
2)  When there are no children in the house, I am to wear a dress/skirt/nightgown to allow easy access to my body at all times.
3)  I am to ask for permission before I masturbate.

It's our own brand of D/s.  Like many others who have embraced this "lifestyle"...we are appreciative of our ability to make choices about how to incorporate it in our daily lives.  For example, I will not be called or thought of as a "slave" and it would completely creep me out to call him "Daddy."  And he is not interested (thankfully) in truly hurting or humiliating me.  If this is to be a life choice rather than an occasional role-play tool, we have to be consistent, committed, and open.

I have to admit, it all really appeals to my sense of order.  I can be pretty scatter-brained...and I have to multi-task and organize shit for others all day, every day.  It's nice to have order imposed upon me.  Of course, it's also nice to have a say in those impositions.

Anyhow, confusion is basically the definition of human existence, in my book.  It is a state of being in which we often find ourselves...but also the one that encourages and allows for the most personal growth.  When we are confused and try to work our way out of it, we create new knowledge (at least for ourselves).

I guess that is what Mr. LL and I are doing...working our way through the sea of conflicting information to find our own place of contentment.


This has been a Wicked Wednesday post.  Click HERE to read the other Wicked interpretations of the prompt: "Confusion".