the stool

It took all day to come up with something that REALLY reminded me of submission. My head isn’t in a good place with this. But as things do, it came to me when I wasn’t even thinking about it. 

This rickety, old, busted up thing is my favorite. 

It reminds me of the beginning and the end, of love and hurt, of pain and soothing. It reminds me of our old closet and the awakenings that happened there, but also the tears and struggle. It makes me sad to remember, but also happy. 

It is a physical reminder that even when things feel broken and irredeemable, there can still be hope. If it happened once, it can happen again. Good. And bad. 

Trusting, especially when you feel the most alone. Surrendering the fear. Embracing the current.

This is submission.

Happy New Year! 

~shygirl

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His Impact

Beginning
Harsh, jolting
Protesting, begging
Strong arm holding
Push, struggling

Middle
Rhythmic, settling
Crying, cleansing
Deep words praising
Lifting, coming

End
Intense, testing
Melting, enduring
Hard lashes breaking
Floating, exchanging

After
Sliding, sinking
Worshipping, thanking
Two souls colliding
Completing, loving

*******
This was another prompt from Sir, for His private viewing. However, the things I’m trying to write lately aren’t very well-rounded (or coherent!), so I requested permission to post this.

Impact has become one of my favorite things and the harder, the more it hurts, the better. Sometimes that frightens me a little. Deep down, I know it isn’t “wrong”, but at times I feel like I am, and that can manifest as a struggle – against the blows, against Sir… especially when the impact alone brings me to climax. This poem reflects the stages.

Happy Tuesday!
~shygirl

against the grain

Submission goes to my core. It is something that I denied and was ashamed of for a very long time, but it has always been a part of me. I am most myself when I am serving Sir, when I am doing the things either He has asked or that I know will please Him. I’m not just talking sexually – I mean anything. Cleaning, crafting, writing, thinking…anything that I know would make Him happy, makes me content.

Knowing that, knowing that my submission is such an integral part of me, there are times I still fight it. How can I rail against something I am? It doesn’t make sense. Take the other night for example:

I didn’t feel like submitting. I didn’t feel submissive, but more than that, I just didn’t feel like anything.
I couldn’t find me.
Sir told me to do something – maybe He asked – and I pretty much said no. Okay, I flat out said no. And continued about my other plan – the shower.
He met me in the shower, where I fussed. I didn’t want to be in there, but I also didn’t think Sir was really into His plan that I declined. I told Him so, too. (As I type this, I see exactly what my problem was – thinking I knew what He was thinking – but at the time, I didn’t see it because I was so wrapped up in the thinking.)
So after He heard me out, He distracted me with kisses and words and fingers… and I left my thoughts behind…until He refused to fuck me. He told me it would only happen out there – plan number one.
Naturally, I lost it. Tears and begging and I said no thanks, I just want to sleep. (Oops) He grabbed his towel and left. I could not believe He left me in the shower like that!
I was sad, and hurt, and throwing a pretty good fit in solitude. I dried off and got ready for bed, resigned to an extremely rare night of no activities.
But when I stepped out of the bathroom, He was waiting. He bent me over the bed and began flogging me. My head wasn’t in it and He could tell, I’m sure. He made me lay on my back and He talked to me. I could not hide and He finally was able to drag the words out of me. Why He still has to do that on occasion is a mystery, and I’m so embarrassed, but I’m working on it.
So we talked until everything was said, and then He put a blindfold over my eyes… asking if I trust Him. Then clicked the cold, heavy handcuffs onto my wrists in front of me.
Do you trust me? Yes, Sir.
I wondered why He kept asking about trust, but I didn’t dwell.
He rolled the wheel up and down. I love and hate that. It is so sharp and I am always afraid to wiggle because it will break the skin. The wheel requires complete trust and concentration. I moved a bit and said more than I should’ve, but I behaved and did as I was told. After that, it’s all a bit of a blur… fingers and cock, two different toys… it was intense and rough, yet full of love and… trust.
So good.
I didn’t think anymore about it.
Until now.
I trust Sir with everything.
I trust Him to lead me.
I trust Him to provide for our family.
I trust Him with my body, my mind, my life, my feelings, my heart.
But when I think I know what He is thinking, I am not trusting Him.
When I tell Him no, I am not trusting Him.
When I don’t feel submissive and I fight His methods, I am not trusting Him.
Which is so messed up because He is the only thing in my life that I do trust.
I need to be better at showing Him my trust, at all times, but it is imperative when I’m feeling out of sorts.

Marriage is about trust.
Love is about trust.
D/s is about trust.
I fully understand Sir’s exercise in trust.
It was a sneaky lesson, subtle yet overt, but I get it. Finally.
I am amazed at His ability to understand and push me in ways that I didn’t know I needed.

Even though a person is submissive, it doesn’t mean they have to feel totally submissive all of the time. Just like a mother doesn’t have to feel totally motherly all of the time. I think sometimes it is okay to struggle, to go against the grain, to feel less than what you are. Because I think maybe it is that uncertain space where we are able to learn and grow the most.
image

Happy Monday. May your week be full of love and laughter! 🙂
~shygirl