thinking [ m ] thursday

I want the pain that comes after the no, after the stop, after the protests.
I want the pain that transcends the physical and becomes this far away thing that feels better and better the more savage it becomes.
I want the pain that leaves reminders – stripes, bruises, scratches.
I want the pain that takes me out of my head.
I want the kind of pain that feeds my love and recharges my soul.

The thing is, though, when I invite pain in I do so reluctantly, sparingly, greedily.
It scares me.
More accurately, I scare me.
After all this time, all these years, all my life, I should have stomped the hangups.
I should be able to embrace every last thing and stand tall and proud in my desires.
Instead, I am scared.
I worry that something I like, became something I want, became something I need.
Like an addict, will I always want more, one step further, a little harder, a little longer, a little more?
Will it ever be enough?
Will I ever be enough?
And so it is that I try to shut it down before I cross the line. As much as I desire the line to be erased, I fight hard as hell to stop it before we get there.
I want to give over to Sir and what I am too insecure to give, I want Him to take.
And in the taking, I want His soul recharged.
I want my tears to free Him as they free me.

I worry about Him, too.
Sometimes I think Sir thinks I am a delicate creature.
Or that He is too kind.
I worry that His confidence in me is less than stellar.
Maybe He thinks I won’t safeword.
Maybe He thinks I won’t know the subtle change between hurt and harm.
Maybe He worries about His own hangups and projects them onto me.

I can hear it know, the chorus chanting “communication is the answer”.
I know that.
We communicate.
We communicate to no end.
We talk, we work, we adjust.
It has been a rough few years.
Family things, work things, setback upon setback.
Some things remain constant.
Love. Marriage. Trust. D/s.
But the play part of D/s has changed and shifted – some lovely changes and some that I deeply grieve..
It is life. Nothing is static. Everything constantly changes.

I am ready for more.
I am ready to get this dialed in.
I am ready to sink back into what I am.
I am ready to drown in Him.
I am ready to let it all go, again.
I am ready to hurt.

~shygirl

thinking [made for this] thursday

I am made for this.

Some days I forget that. I forget that my only freedom is through submission. I fall back on past versions that could only rely on myself. I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I chastise myself for not being stronger or for not being more timid. I rail against direction and instruction because I focus on the little changes I don’t like. I forget to build up the positive. I forget why I am how I am. I forget who I am.

Today I’m digging deep. I know that I am Yours. I know that You are mine. I know that submitting is strength. I know that holding grudges, no matter how small, only holds us apart. I know that D/s is the way, our only way. I know that consistency doesn’t mean monotony and that change is inevitable and beneficial. I know that life is good. I know Your love.

Never doubt.

I was made for this.

-shygirl

thinking [take me home] thursday

The days filled with flirting expectation and unabashed want.

The fluttery stomach and risque texts that cause a deep blush.
The tasks that encourage, invigorate, and remind.
The demanded photos that require time, thought, and plenty of privacy.
The submissiveness that seeps from every pore and fuels every breath.
The evenings filled with stolen touches and handsy hugs.
The videogames and shows infused with knowing glances and sexy awareness.
The hidden rope or plug and whispered words.
The barely-contained desire.
The eagerness that demands an early bedtime.
The wetness that leave no room for doubt.
The control required to follow instructions, to hold position, to wait.
The belt, the flogger, the loopy, the whip.
The increasing intensity, the heavenly pain.
The kisses that are too much, but not enough.
The steady rhythm, the fusing of bodies.
The forgetting, the giving-over, the floating, the release.
The Dominance that feeds the submission.
The soul. The life. The love.
All of this is all that’s needed.
This is home.