part 2...love submission love ...the response

This is a topic that has provoked some fantastic debate and was clearly close to a lot of people's hearts. Thank you to all of you who have taken part. I thought with the learning's I took from all the comments and some private discussion as well as some deeper thought, I might just round off the topic. In my first post here I pondered whether I must experience love for Him in order to submit truly and more deeply.

There were a couple of issues highlighted in the responses.

1. The capacity to love deeply more than one while that person may not be one's significant other (non-Dom and Local D in my case).
2. The difference in the nature of love. We love differently in different relationships and all are valid, healthy and an experience of honesty to oneself and others.

However my original question, which perhaps was not very well expressed was not really touched on.

I think I am not asking if it is right or wrong to love more than one man (or woman, insert your favoured gender here) and at which point? Rather, in searching for a more perfect submission..in searching for my submission, will any submission I offer only deepen or carry authenticity if I love? Does Love bring the strength to submit? If I never love, never give into these feelings which I have experienced in the moments where he Dominates me (and I want to wrap myself around him in love, like a koala in a high waving eucalyptus tree, face buried in the trunk eyes closed away from the sun), if I never give myself completely in Love, can I ever deliver an authentic overwhelming submission to him? Do I really care if I have another to love? I can answer this last one, I do care though sometimes I feel very mercenary in all this and most decidedly unsubmissive!

There is an issue for me in loving more than one man at once. It would feel like infidelity to me. This is an important boundary not to be crossed for the very real fear that it would hurt non-Dom. If I could get past that, if I could live with real secrets from non-Dom then all would be well! One of my biggest barriers in all this TTWD is my overwhelming sense of guilt that my actions will not honour non-Dom. Loving another man would be crossing the line. I truly agonise over these things...thinking too much. This is the man however with whom I hope to share myself to the end of life.  If I fuck it up there is no recovery, not really. We have survived one such major fuck up, no matter how many years, no matter how much forgiveness, the memory has not faded.

If I let myself love in order to submit, it would be in secret, in a lie to non-Dom. This is not part of our agreement around this episode in our lives. Would I risk this though if it meant a more authentic experience of my submission? An honest experience?

In his comment on the post, Bruce may have come the closest in addressing the relationship between submission and love, calming me in the same moment, when he said,

I like to think of D/s love as occupying that grey area between spousal love, and parent-child love. And it is on a sliding scale in that grey zone. I believe as the trust and submission grow, so too will the scale move. And just as the scale moves, so too can the submission deepen.

In a private conversation, a friend advised to stop thinking and enjoy the moment, enjoy where you are and stop thinking about the future (how did he know I was thinking about tomorrow, wondering if it would be as good as today?..lol).

So would I take the risk and love in order to engage with submission? Maybe...even probably. Or should I wait for the pendulum to swing traversing the sliding scale of grey light between spousal love and parent-child love?...Most probably.  This is the paradigm that fits most closely with who I am and takes the dilemma of choosing to love another man away from me. It is no longer in my control and isn't that the point after all. Submission, in this paradigm is inextricably linked to a love that is comfortable and has its place in the grey light where D/s lives. Funny the wisdom one can find in the strangest of places.

unknown photographer: sourced from the interweb

love submission love

There are so many thoughts speeding through my head.
Yes yes Daddy I think too much...slap!

I have been reading blogs with some very insightful posts. As I search for my submission I feel there is something missing. I read other women's thoughts, other men's thoughts and I wonder if what is missing is love.

I am immersed in play. I love to play but there is no love. I am not free to love. I read blogs that not only border but fall into deep descriptive submissions of hearts and flowers. Submissive women who are free and some not so free, to love. I am not criticising this in any way. In fact I wonder if this is what I really need, not just the freedom to submit but also the freedom to love.

I am lead to ponder the question is true submission grounded in love? Or maybe, like the old chicken and the egg question, is love born of submission? Arrrrrgh! Who knows? I just know that I don't love, I can't love and possibly won't ever be free to love. I have not chosen for love..perhaps then I have chosen for the wrong reason. I am put in mind of one of my favourite characters in one of my favourite books, Gatsby's Daisy made a mockery of his life's work to win her away from her athletic husband when she admitted 'I loved you both.' I would like to be able to love both and though I care..deeply and affectionately, given the choice I would choose the man I love over the man who loves me in the a way I need, with strength and control and the expression of whips, pulleys and bruised skin.

photographer unknown, source : Interweb

the night before

Waking early, even before light she surveyed the night before. She had been his last night. Cementing their love in their own world.

Leather shackles lay on the floor next to the patent black peep toe heels with cherry detail and red soles. The flogger is draped on the chair over which she bent to receive his will. The magic buzzy wand cast off and lay where it landed after she had cum and he had fucked her where she lay. Fishnet crotchless and bottomless stockings gently lay next to the red cotton twill striped corset. The corset had arrived in the post two days earlier and was approved in the previous night's proceedings.

She drifted down the hall to the living area aware that her body ached from the treatment it had been subjected to in the night. In the kitchen empty green lipped pacific oyster shells lay on the bench next to a nearly finished bottle of French champagne. She had sipped at her vintage pink glass with peacock detail while her cunt pressed down astride his trousered leg. He could feel the heat from her cunt reach boiling as he took her mouth and her nipples into his own mouth. She remembered with delight slipping to her knees and releasing his cock with her eager hands. Her hot hungry mouth found his hardness taking him into her throat. She loved the sound of his moan as she sucked and twirled her tongue finding that sensitive place just under the head of his glans. Saliva pooled at the corners of her mouth, his fist twisted in her hair, her eyes watered as he began to fuck her mouth. She loved it when he took control and fucked her like this. She met his gaze as he thrust more deeply into her throat. Her gag relaxing to let him in.

The candles had burned down, the wax cooling on the table top and she wondered if he had thought to use some of that wax for a purpose other than ambient lighting. The windows in the living room had remained open and she enjoyed the memory of dancing for him in the window, just to show the neighbours what was his.

She sighed with satisfaction as she gathered the memories of the night before and stored them away for another time.

Andrew Lucas: sourced from the interweb

the compliment

The nicest thing my hub has ever said to me.

me: Do you think I am a kinky bitch?

Him: No, you just know what you want.

In just a few words he voiced his acceptance of me and normalised all my deep, kinky and twisted desires and I loved him for it!



joseph sudek - the enchanting garden 1955



I don't have a collar

I don't have a collar.

Helmut Newton

Last night my husband strapped on my leather wrist restraints and joined them with bright shiny cold metal fasteners.

He brought me to one of my more powerful orgasms. The sort with tears streaming down my face. The sort where my thighs tremble and I become so overwhelmed with love I don't want to ever leave the safety of his embrace.

While I was still in this space he pinned me down, he entered my dripping slickness and came hot and hard inside me. I was in complete and utter slut heaven. My little girl was gone, my slut was wallowing in his attention. Happy as a pig in...

The more extraordinary followed. He usually likes to remove any restraints from my wrists or ankles. He likes the power of release as much, perhaps more, as the power of restraint. Last night he removed the metal fasteners and said, "I think you can leave these on tonight. I think you can sleep in them."

and i did...

Waking this morning, I asked him, "Daddy, can I take these off now, I need to get up. "

"Yes baby girl, you did well."

He reached over and unstrapped them and buckles jangling, he handed them to me to put them in their place.

I don't have a collar...

Last night I had a symbol of such.

Sometimes, just when I think all is lost, he surprises me with what I need.

it's the little things

Your hand squeezing the back of my neck,

expressing your claim,

My head bowed, laying on your lap,

Your fingers twisting though my hair,

I am yours.

Pushing me against the wall,

Possessing my face in the palm of your hands,

Trapping my gaze with your eyes,

I am yours.

Touching to guide me, to quiet me,

Holding gently the curve of my waist and hip,

Pulling me back to you as you pound your heat into me,

I am yours.

Circling the sting on my reddened bottom with the soft touch of your hand,

brushing the tear from my cheek,

I am yours.

Your hand on my throat,

Your fingers in my mouth,

I am yours.

Walking through the door at the end of the day,

I am yours.

finding me in him

How strange I think to myself.
I think i am falling in love again.
I long to see him at the end of the day,
I grieve to see him walk out the door.

The forgiveness is real,
the resentment and hurt is abating.
I love his touch,
I am patient with him,
The irritation with his breath is gone.
The wound is healing,
I am not afraid any longer.
I feel safe in his hands,
I have given myself back to him.

I think I am falling in love with my husband again.
The realisation of this makes me cry.
Like a switch is flicked and I see us again.
The confusion of the last 18 months is receding and clarity is returning.
It feels like I have arrived..like I made it back to him.
My journey, almost over. 
I drifted away from him, pushed myself away, afraid of the hurt, afraid to live the pain again.
He waited. 
I never thought I'd come back, but here I am, loving him again.