Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Decisions

I really don’t like having to make really important decisions. I can. And I do, every day. But I don’t like it. I’m not talking about things like what I should wear or eat. I’m talking more about career decisions, money decisions and the like. And more specifically –

Car decisions.

I got a call from the mechanic yesterday and my car is done. D-O-N-E. There was no accident thankfully, but apparently I drove over something that caused a massive oil leak, and in turn ruined my timing belt and destroyed my engine. It’s not even worth fixing at this point. I’m not sure if this could have come at a better or worse a time.

On the one hand, my job just ended, so I’m not really missing work everyday. I can’t do reliable temp work right now, but at least I don’t have to rent a car everyday to get to work.

On the other hand, my job just ended. I do have some savings, but getting a car will use almost all of it. And I need a car. I can get around my town just fine, and we have excellent mass transit. Around here. Which is not where I work, or where any of my potential jobs and their interviews are. Or Sir for that matter. He’s an hour away. He has no problem coming to me, or picking me up, lovely man that he is, but I can’t expect that from him, and it’s not fair.

And despite being 28 years old, I have never really purchased a car before. All of my cars were either family vehicles, or obtained from someone we knew. And I don’t really know how to go about doing this. Sure, I can go online, research models, makes, types, budget, mileage, etc (which I have). But when it comes to actually going to a dealership, I’m petrified. I am really nervous about being pressured into something, overpaying, or ending up with a lemon.

Sir wants to help me with this, but he really can’t. By the time he’d be able to get here, it’d be at least 6 o' clock. And I work on the weekends (for which I am grateful to have kept the part-time job, even though it was really taxing). I so wish he could help me though. This is one of those times where I wish he could make a decision for me, and he can't. And I just really don’t want to go alone.

I think it would surprise most of my vanilla friends that I am really apprehensive about this. I seem to have the reputation for being a confident, in-your-face, get-shit-done type of gal. Which I’ll try to present at the dealerships, but when I’m uncomfortable or unsure, I get really shy.

I’m going to ask a local friend of mine if he would go with me, and hopefully he will and I can get the ball rolling. Or maybe as in the past, a friend will know someone that is trying to sell their car, and I can take it to my mechanic to check out and do it that way.

I just want to have a plan of action already. Once I have a plan, or a decision, or a decision is made for me, I immediately calm down and just accept it and go with the flow.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Sweet and Sour

What a whirlwind of a weekend. Between punishment failures, miscommunication, vanilla troubles… I don’t even know where to start.

A couple weeks ago, Roommate and I decided to have a girl’s night out and see a movie that neither of our loves really wanted to see (The Vow). While there, we saw that tickets for The Hunger Games were available. So I got us tickets to the midnight showing. Then, a few days later it dawns on me.

A Midnight showing. On a Thursday. When I have a bedtime at 11 pm.

Fuck.

So I called Sir, and we talked about it.

It’s not that I meant to be disrespectful. It’s just hard in an everyday situation when we’re apart a lot of the time to get into the habit of asking for permission for things I never considered before. I didn’t even think about it; we wanted to see a movie, so I got us tickets. Done.

So we had a few options. He could deny me permission to go. He could give me permission to go, or He could give me permission to go, but I’d be punished.

The third option was chosen.

When I finally see him on Saturday, we get in late (ironically after seeing The Hunger Games together) and I know its time to pay. Earlier that evening, he requested that I obtain a notebook and pen. I’d been wondering what it was for all evening, but he just looks down at me and tells me that I’m “not going to like it”.

Once inside, without preamble, he orders me to strip. I take everything off. He chains my hands together and locks them. He throws a pillow on the floor, then orders me to kneel in front of his wooden chair. Upon the chair he places the notebook. He asks me what my bedtime rule is.

“I will be in bed by 11 pm on a work night and 12am on Saturday, unless I’m with you, or have your permission”.

He then asks me to repeat after him:

“I will not deviate from my bedtime without Sir’s explicit permission”.

I repeat after him.

“Say it again”, he orders.

“I will not deviate from my bedtime without Sir’s explicit permission”.

"Good girl. You will write this sentence 200 times in that notebook. You have one hour."

One hour?! Is that even feasible? I start writing furiously because I need a baseline to determine if it is. I don’t even consider that I’d usually be extremely self-conscious about my nudity. 28 minutes later, I’ve gone through 50 lines. Writing with my hands chained together sucks. It’s hard to make it legible. The chain is digging into my hand; I still have a bruise from it. And I have trouble kneeling on a good day so I’m constantly fidgeting. Though I am grateful for that pillow. I can only imagine what it would have been like without it. I do some quick calculations, and at my current furious pace, it should take me 112 minutes to do all 200 lines. Well, I have 60 minutes total, so there’s no way in hell I can accomplish this.

I start to get really upset. Why would he set me up to fail? There’s no way I can accomplish this task. And he knows I become extremely upset when I fail him. I sat on the floor in a pathetic blubbering mess when that quarter went into the dresser. I cried despondently when I couldn’t get my hands behind my back how he likes. No matter the task, if I can’t complete it for him, it unhinges me.

Nevertheless, I keep writing. I give myself mini-goals just to keep myself going. I need to at least get over 100 before time is out. I’m also mad as hell while writing this, because I don’t feel I’m being punished for the right reasons. He said I could go, therefore I did have his explicit permission to be late with my bedtime that evening. Yes, he did say I would be punished, but I thought it would be for getting tickets first and asking permission later. I should have asked, and then purchased. We have to work on changing my mindset in the vanilla world, where I make all my decisions, all the time. It’s hard to stop and think about deferring to him when he’s not around and I do for myself most of the time.

I make it to 120 and a half when he says time is up. He asks how far I’ve gotten, and then says I may stand. I slowly get up. My legs feel like jello and my knees are aching. He unchains my hands, and asks me if I am going to forget my bedtime again.

“No, sir.”

I feel certain that I won’t, so responding like this is actually a big deal. Usually I say that I’m not sure, because I don’t wish to lie. However, I’m still seething inside, and teetering on crying.. I guess he notices, because I’m abnormally quiet. He asks if I am okay. I say no. He asks if I am mad at him. I say yes.

We end up talking about it, even though I really don’t want to. He still feels that the punishment is for not getting permission to miss the bedtime, and I do see his point about putting him in a position where he feels like he must say yes. He wants me to do things with my friends. He doesn’t want to be the guy telling me that I can’t do things with them. But I also still don’t feel like my feelings were wrong. And I still don’t know how to feel about it.

The next morning, he gets up and is gone for what feels like a long time. I’m in bed, waiting for him. I can’t leave because he’s not yet taken my sleeping collar off; so I just wait. Then he comes in with a tray, and on it are waffles, syrup and milk. He made us breakfast and brought it to bed. What a sweet man.

He also helped me out in a major way yesterday. When I went to see the movie with my roommate, my car started smoking out and stalling as soon as we got to the theatre. I brought it to the mechanic, but was and am still carless (Maybe its some type of karma for not being in line with Sir). My contract at my main breadwinning job ended on Friday, and I had an interview yesterday. It was a second callback interview where I had to give a presentation, so it was really important.

Since I didn’t have a car, I was going to get up really really early, and rent a car so I could be on time for the meeting (at 8:45 am). Sir decided that it all sounded very silly and a lot of work and money, so he took the day off work so he could drive me. He also stayed up with me and helped me prep my materials until 2:30 am. I love this man.

Even though I’m still not sure how to feel about the Hunger Games Bedtime Permission Punishment Incident, I know in my heart that he is a kind man that, to quote him “ always has my back”.

Even if him having my back means he’s got evil designs on it.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Punishment Mission: 2 AM

So, twice last week I was late to bed. And as such, Sir made me pay for that by changing my bedtime from 11pm to 2am for that evening. Initially, I scoffed at this a little bit. But as it was getting closer to 11 and I started to feel my eyelids become heavy with my face splitting with yawns, I knew I was in for more than I thought.

It was actually pretty difficult for me to stay awake that long. Even when I go to bed late, its usually 30 minutes or less past the appointed time. Habitually going to bed at that time has put expectations on my body, and it expected to sleep. I started the evening by trying to be productive. I was going to tidy my room and fold and put away my clothing. But as the only seating and large flat surface in my room is the bed, I abandoned that activity because the temptation of my bed, sitting down and perhaps accidentally falling asleep was too great. Instead, I sat myself at the computer and started catching up on all the blogs on my list that I’ve been neglecting for months (I am nearly caught up with all of you – I’ve been reading on and off for days now). I figured that if I’m not going to be productive around the house, I could at least engage in an activity that furthers my submissive goals. Plus, I miss you all and what you have to say; I often feel very isolated in my submission and this blog world makes me feel part of an accepted community, which I’ve realized is something that I need (not just want).

A few times, even in that uncomfortable chair I felt myself nearly falling asleep. I’d get up and walk a little bit around the house. I’d have a glass of soda (which Sir said was okay, but no coffee). I’d open a window to let the cold air in. Then my mom (who was visiting) wondered what I was still doing up, and decided to keep me company. I just told her I was messing about on the computer. Well, she sat there with me and talked my ear off for hours. Two o’clock came and went, and I tried quite politely to see myself off to no avail. Forty minutes later, I managed to break away gracefully and headed into bed.

I really had no truthful explanation that I was comfortable with giving to my parent as to why I was awake. Her being at my home is a rarity, but this just emphasized how alone I do feel sometimes. I can’t publicly be who I really am, or who I want to be. I am not ready to deal with questions and judgement. Add this to the fact that I actually have a pretty strained relationship with my mom (though I don’t think she understands this) I just don’t feel comfortable trusting her. Or nearly anyone else for that matter.

Well, after I did manage to break away from my mom, avoid explanations and get some sleep, the next day was pretty awful. I did sleep for about 8 hours, but I was still tired all day long. I had a constant ache in my puffy eyes and I was just dragging ass all day. I also had work that evening. By some miracle, they let me out an hour early, and I didn’t need to ask Sir for his permission to be up late. Thank goodness, because I was exhausted.

This experience made me wonder how it would be different if breaking this rule were punished on a weekday, when I get up around 6:30 am. Sir did mention that he was getting very annoyed that I wasn’t taking the bedtime seriously enough, and changing it was trying to make me appreciate having it, and why it was there. He’s right. I should remember how dysfunctional and exhausted I was, and be happy that Sir is taking my well-being into account (which I am; it makes me feel submissive and cherished). He said that if I am late without his prior knowledge again, he WILL be punishing me, and it WILL be on a weekday, and it WILL be for longer than 2 am. While I do think the immediacy and consistency is just what I need, that would SUCK.

I had better be a good girl.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Kinky Tune Tuesday

I run across songs quite frequently that make me think of my Dirty Old Man, TTWD, and other aspects of kink. I thought I might start posting these songs, perhaps on a weekly or biweekly basis. To start this off, I heard this tune on public radio this weekend and its stayed in my head. This tune is maybe not quite as kinky as some other songs out there, but I think it is beautiful throughout all its covers.

I like to think of this being sung by a Dom(me) to their sub. Though they may be far apart, though the submissive may be seeing and experiencing fantastic things on their own, they shouldn't forget who they really belong to and who they are.

Two versions are included here, one sung by Carla Bruni, and the other by Jason Wade.






Hope you enjoy them as much as I do!

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Testing Sir and Being Honest

I have work tonight (not a normal occurrence), and instead of worrying how I will be able to write a post before my deadline at 11 tonight when I get out of work at 10:30 (I’ll have to ask Sir permission to stay up late due to necessity), I’ll take a step in managing my time better and put pen to paper (so to speak) now.

I think I was testing my Dirty Old Man a little bit this week. I was late to bed not once, but twice this week.

Last Sunday, Sir and I stayed in bed all day. Literally. With that, plus the time change, I couldn’t sleep. But I could have been not sleeping in my bed at least. I could have followed the rule of being in bed. Not being able to sleep is out of my control, but getting my ass in bed is. Due to circumstances, Sir decided to be lenient. I suppose because there were no consequences, or immediate consequences, I started to wonder what I could get away with.

Sometimes (every time) when I know I’m hovering on breaking a rule, I think about what would happen if I just didn’t say anything. Though I see him at least once or twice a week, Sir and I don’t live together. We’re an hour apart. In some ways, it’s like having an online or long-distance relationship (I intend to make a future post about this topic specifically). He’s not there all the time to catch me making mistakes or being disobedient. So, many times it’s up to me to be truthful about my behavior. Sometimes the thought of lying by omission is tempting. One could be a more perfect sub. I could be seen as obedient. I could avoid punishment. But really, that’s just a fa├žade. Each time I think about not saying something, I think about the type of person and type of submissive that would make me. And I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to jeopardize our relationship by dishonesty like that. Sir seems to know this.

After I initially missed my bedtime (and told him about it the next day in a rush over the phone, heart pounding)… I waited. Initially I was touched by his leniency, but a couple of days later, it was nearing 11 o’ clock, and I just didn’t feel like heading to bed. The first time, I wasn’t really being directly disrespectful, (even though I should absolutely monitor myself better) but this time, I was. I was aware of the time. I sat there and chose not to go to bed. I suppose I was wondering what Sir was going to do. A part of me wondered if nothing was going to happen. After all, I was late this week before, and there were no consequences. I told him what I did, and he acknowledged it and said that he would think about it.

He didn’t make mention of it the next day. I guess I thought I was off the hook. Then Saturday comes. We were going out to dinner with my parents (something we’ve not formally done, though we’ve been together for 14 months). My mother is visiting (she lives in the next state over, and my parents aren’t together anymore, so this is kind of a big deal). He arrives at my place, and as we’re sitting on my couch just saying our hellos and hugging, he mentions to me that I will be punished tonight and I’m not going to like it. He leaves it at that. No further explanations forthcoming from him, despite my attempts at fishing for information.

We go out. We have a nice, if a bit awkward dinner with my folks. I giggle inwardly when my father jokingly calls my Dirty Old Man, “Sir”. Oh, if only he knew. I ask Sir to help me order under the guise of my being indecisive, so he can choose my food for me, without having to explain anything awkward. Throughout the evening, I sporadically think about my forthcoming punishment. What could it be? I know he’s not going to BE here. Will it be a writing assignment? Will it be quick and physical? Will it be the opposite of my last bedtime punishment?

When we get back, Sir finally lets me know that my bedtime tonight has been extended. To 2 am. I know that sounds not so bad. But I’ve been going to bed at 11 (or close to it) for a while now. It was past 10 and I was already yawning, to the Dirty Old Man’s delight. I responded as usual with a lot of questions and what-if scenarios concerning my punishment. What if I fall asleep by accident? - Then don’t get anywhere too comfortable. Can I use caffeine? – You may drink soda, but not coffee, as you would likely drink soda normally, but not coffee at this hour. What do I do with this time? – It’s up to you. Should I be productive? –What you do is up to you, just be awake. What if I do fall asleep and don’t tell you? – You won’t; it’s not who you are.

“You won’t; it’s not who you are.”

I love that Sir has that kind of faith and trust in me. I guess its one of the reasons why I DO tell him if I mess up. I wouldn’t want that trust to be misplaced. It’s up to me to live up to his expectations.

Despite that shining moment, I guess my questions were starting to irk my Sir. Maybe he was seeing it as my not taking this as seriously as I should. He forcefully turned me around, and swatted me once on my bottom. Then, deciding he didn’t quite like the effect, he turned me around again, slowly lifted the back of my thin trenchcoat and did it again. You see, he didn’t waste any time with setting up this punishment when we returned; I had not yet removed my coat. When he turned me around to face him, I let him know that if that’s meant to be a deterrent, it fails. I like it too much. He put his hands to my hair and took it in his fists tightly, forcing me close to look up into his eyes. Sir has a good 9 inches of height on me, so it was both quite intimate and intimidating. I let him know that I was enjoying this as well. He said:

“I know. It’s not meant to be a deterrent; it’s why I don’t use these things for punishment. But it is meant to focus your attention. Do I have your attention?”

“Yes!”

He pulls my hair tighter. “I don’t think I do. Do I have your attention?”

“Yes, Sir!” (I can’t believe I forgot to say “Sir” at a time like this… I think it was due to liking the dynamic he set up so effortlessly and FAST. From opening the door to this moment was only about 5 minutes).

“Better. Now, do you understand why I’ve changed your bedtime tonight?”

“So I can better appreciate the 11 o’clock bedtime, Sir.”

“Very good. I want you to think about what it was like before you had a bedtime. Do you remember what it was like?”

“I was stressed, overworked, overtired and chronically fatigued, Sir.”

“And how is it now?”

“It’s gotten a lot better, Sir.”

“I agree. I set this bedtime up for your benefit, so you can be functional and healthy” He pauses, and then kisses me, hard. My heart leaps with joy, as this is what I was hoping for. His hands work his way to my breasts, and between my legs. As my breath hitches, he pulls away.

“I couldn’t leave here without giving you something to think about, could I?”

Oh, what an EVIL Dirty Old Man! This morning, he let me know that he really didn’t LIKE having to punish me.

“Really? Because your penis seems to think otherwise”.

“Yeah, well he’s evil.”

As are you, Sir. As are you.

And I love it.


-Details on my mission of staying awake coming up soon. I’ve been here an hour, and I must get ready for work!

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Party Supplies

I saw this on Facebook and had to share it. Sir thought it was funny, too.


Sounds like my kind of party.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Just A Quarter

Today, Sir made a simple request of me. It was one that directly benefited neither of us, but needed to be accomplished (feed the cat). I didn’t feel like moving from our comfy cuddly nest of lazy yet. So I whined, and then said, “Yes, sir”.

But I didn’t say it politely. At all.

Sir let me know that just as complying with his instructions is not enough (I must acknowledge them with a “Yes, Sir”) it’s not enough to say it, but say it in a disapproving, impolite manner. Tone is important. Sir informed me that upon my return, I’d be punished.

I was a bit nervous when returning from my task. With just a look from him, I got into my collaring position (face the door, palms up on the wood). Sir removed my sleeping collar, and placed my normal collar upon my neck. Then he asked me to get a quarter.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do with it. I thought I would have to hold it… somewhere. Then he tied my hands behind and to my back, ensuring I couldn’t move them up or down. I started to get nervous, because I couldn’t remember him ever using bondage specifically for a punishment.

He put a pillow next to the dresser and informed me that I was to kneel and use my nose to keep the quarter on this dresser until he said otherwise.

Bah! I thought. This is simple; I’m getting off light. I knelt, and pushed the quarter into the drawer of the dresser using my nose.

Thankfully for me, the tip of my nose does not contain much cartilage, so it flattened out nicely to press the quarter in place.

A quarter. Such a deceptive little thing.

I held it really well for the first few minutes. Then I started to struggle. Either Sir is an evil genius, or the dresser just happened to be set up perfectly for this sort of thing.

On the top of the dresser is a plastic place mat that reaches over the dresser about a centimeter. So now I have a predicament. In order to keep the quarter on the dresser, I have to let this plastic dig itself into my forehead. Also, there was a board near the dresser. One knee was on the board, and one on the floor, so I was constantly just a few inches off-kilter. I couldn’t maintain a constantly stable position.

Sir says I initially lasted about 15 minutes. My legs were starting to shake. I had been informed that if I dropped the quarter I was going to have to start over. Instead of dropping the quarter however, in my efforts to keep it on the dresser I pushed up, and the stupid thing went INTO the freaking drawer.

Lost.

Gone.

I had failed. This made me unduly upset. I leaned back from the dresser with my head down and started to cry. Not only had I done something that required Sir to punish me, I couldn’t even complete the punishment. I couldn’t do what he had asked me. And now I had to start all over.

Sir took note of my pathetic state and in a moment of good grace, told me that I did indeed have to start over, and he wouldn’t go back on his word. But I’d only have to make it 5 more minutes.

I was thankful for that pillow, but I was really starting to hate that stupid plastic placemat. I got back into position. I thought the first 15 minutes seemed like forever, but these additional 5 minutes dragged out. I guess my muscles were already tense. Plus, the tears from my failure were making my nose all slippery and the quarter was starting to slide down, even with additional pressure making that ridiculous place mat dig into my head. I had to try and use my lips to keep the quarter from falling. I honestly thought it was just about to fall when Sir said I was done.

Thank God. If I had to do it again, I probably would have dissolved into a pathetic puddle. Sir had me cuddle with him after and we talked about the punishment. We stopped our conversation to untie my hands – they were itchy and felt like sausages.

I’m trying to use a new method of “Do you like this” – do I want this to stop or continue? Sometimes I’m not sure, but in that moment, I really wanted my hands untied. I was disappointed a little bit, but it is what it is. Sir held me while we talked. I know that it was not respectful to address him that way, even if the words were correct. Their spirit wasn’t in accordance. I can express my feelings, but in a more constructive way. He asked me if I learned my lesson. I try my best not to lie to Sir. So, I said that I didn’t know. It’s 15 months later, and there are two things I still struggle with daily – Saying Sir whenever possible, (I still miss now and then), and not putting my hands in Sir’s hair. I don’t think this will be a constant thing, but the next time he asks me to do something and I don’t want to, I’ll definitely be bringing this experience to mind before I answer.

It’s not the position, per se, though that was not fun. It’s the failure. It really bothers me when I can’t do something Sir asks. Whether its hold a certain position with my hands due to flexibility, or endure something physical, if I can’t comply, it makes me highly upset.

So the next time this happens, I’ll be thinking about the potential of disappointing him before I respond.

Sunday, March 04, 2012

Progress

One good thing that came from my small post last week... Sir informed me that if I do miss a post, he now has a punishment waiting in the wings. This would definitely apply if I deliberately chose to miss an assignment, or even if I miss one due to other circumstances. I think this is pretty fair. Most of the time, I leave my writings to the end of the week, where I would have had plenty of opportunity earlier in the week to write, if I so chose. So missing a writing just because the weekend got busy is not really an excuse. I just need to manage my time better. I almost missed writing this week in fact - I fell asleep and then Sir called, waking me up. I felt like there was something I was forgetting, and then it dawned on me and I leapt out of bed. We had a conversation earlier this week, and I said I wasn't going to deliberately miss an assignment this week just to see what he had up his sleeve. I would have hated it to have to be punished so early for missing an assignment, especially after we had that talk. I'm glad I can be true to that statement now.

I also feel that even though I have been struggling with my new dress code (and even though I love it), I made more progress this week. I did away with not one, but TWO pairs of pants this week. They were in serious disrepair, and not really fit to donate. I think a major struggle for me is having appropriate items always at my reach. If I have perfectly good and clean pants, it's hard not to wear them. I also think a struggle will come in trying to adjust my wardrobe. I don't like to get rid of useful things. So finding homes for some of my garments that are in good shape is going to be really hard. The fact that I haven't yet figured out how I can work my outdoors job without wearing pants, means that I also have to keep some in my wardrobe for that purpose (which Sir understands and approves of). I just have to make sure that I'm only wearing those items for those purposes. It's going to be really difficult.

Here's hoping for more progress this upcoming week. I really want every step I take, even if they're small, to bring me closer to my Sir.
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