Month: February 2017

The Reality I Failed to See

I’m at a point where I feel a need to start purging my thoughts about my current situation with my husband. FYI, it’s messy.

I am not a nagging wife and I don’t like saying, or thinking, bad things about my husband. In other words, this isn’t about me pointing out his wrongs, this is me acknowledging that I matter.

I adored my husband. He was my world. He was my fresh air in a lifetime of smog. He gave me a life I didn’t think I would ever have. So I pushed aside, put up with, and overlooked many things because I knew life could be a lot worse. I knew I didn’t have it bad, and it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t ever good either. It didn’t start when we became kinky, it just got worse.

I didn’t see it until we switched. I didn’t want to see it.

Before, when I was his sub, and even before that, it was easy to blame myself. I was the one who needed to adjust, I needed to change to meet his needs, etc.. But, it’s different now.

It was, and still is, very confusing. It started of with a feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like, the way I was being treated and had been treated wasn’t right. There was/is a huge internal struggle of figuring out what is real. I listened to myself think (overthinker, I am) and I could hear words from the abused. I would justify his actions, blame myself, etc.. I paid attention to how he made me feel, and it wasn’t good. In fact, he makes me feel bad more often than not.

I know on some level I accepted it because I don’t have a clear view of what I should expect — a result of childhood trauma. While I won’t use that as a way to justify his actions, I will take responsibility for putting up with it and, by doing so, enabling him.

I deserve better treatment. I’m standing up for myself, doing things that make me feel good about being me, and he’s not all that happy with who I am trying to be.



I have doubted myself in a dominant role, which I do believe is natural – at least for myself -, nevertheless I find it quite annoying that I can’t get my head to shut up. 

You can’t do this. 
You will screw it up.
You will be too much and definitely not enough.

I do hold myself to a certain standard — perhaps it is a little extreme, but that’s just how I roll. Being a dominant is not something to be taken lightly and I do not intend to half-ass it. 

Doubting myself actually stifles what I could be and it effects the enjoyment — not that there’s any of that going on with husband. 

I know it takes time to adjust. I’m trying to be nice to myself…

It would just be nice if, for once, I could not overthink! 

What Goes Around Cums Around

One great thing about being a sub turned Domme, with the same partner, is having the pleasure of turning the table around. Seriously, it was great fun. 

It was no secret that he loved seeing me in nipple clamps. He would run the chain through the D-ring in my collar then clamp those little fuckers on me and watch me do the dishes — just to name one of many. 

The first time I put the clamps on him it was like a light shined down on me and blessed me with a sweet revenge. I did not feel the least bit sorry. He was such a baby. Lol. 

But that was nothing compared to the second time I tried my hand at ruining his orgasm. 

It was so great I don’t even remember the moments leading up to it. 

I believe I had played with his nipples a little bit while I rubbed him, but I’m not positive. It doesn’t really matter anyway. 

My plan was to stop his release by blocking his hole with my finger, sending his cum back down. 

Oh! It was so fun! 

So the time came and I put my thumb over his hole, which I managed to do easy enough. I really had no idea what I was doing, first time and all (with this technique). When I did this, he let out a moan and pushed his hips up, moving my thumb just enough to let some escape. I quickly got back into place, held on tighter, gave his balls a little slap and told him to be still. 

It was awesome to feel him pulsing in my hand, and it seemed to go on and on. His frustration was glorious, as well. 

I was smiling and laughing, having a grand time. Seriously, I’m convinced everyone should try it. 

When it was done he told me the best news…

When my thumb slipped, the fugitive cum had found itself a home ON HIS FACE.

I laughed harder than I had in a long, long time. It was so awesome. I’m cracking up just thinking about it. 

You see, one of his favorite things to do was cum on my face and laugh at me. 

*evil laugh*

Good times, good times. 

Picking back up where I left off…

Like I said, we were only a week in and he blew up — he told me that I didn’t give him a choice, that I pushed him into F/m.

It was a horrible night. 

Looking at it from the outside in, it seems so ridiculous. I offered many options, not just the one he picked. My direction was based off his decision — I wanted to be owned. Alas, I was in the thick of it and I took it to heart.
Did I push him into it?
Did he not like what we were doing?
Had I been pushing him to do something he didn’t want to do? 

I did assume things…

I wanted to puke. I had some sort of panic attack, which he was not at all concerned with.

It just kept getting worse from there. 

We got on the topic of my submission and…it came out that he had indeed turned a blind eye to my suffering (something I already suspected, but it hurt to find out nonetheless), he neglected me, and he had taken me for granted. 

That was just the first peek, other bits were brought into light over the last 2-3 months — more of the same, which just gave me a clearer view of what I missed before. 

Being his sub is no longer an option. 

In fact, I can’t see myself being sub again — like ever, with anyone. 

And, for the record, knowing what I know now, I would have made a damn good sub. 

From My Mind 

Here’s a bit of fantasy for you…

This boy was in my bed and bound. Arms wide and legs spread. My hold on his heart was far greater than that of the rope digging into his skin. 

I pinched his nipples and watched him grow. A smile spread across my face and little giggle escaped my lips before I told him how pathetic he was. He was obviously having too much fun so I bit a tinder nipple, he yelped through the gag and strained against the rope. 

This toy was mine and I could do whatever I wanted to do with it. He gladly embraced what I inflicted, not because he enjoyed the sensations of pain, but because I wanted it. 

I was his world and he held my heart as I used him. 

I toyed with his penis and when it would start to twitch I would crop his stomach, thighs, arms, wherever I wanted to. He knew good and well that he deserved it. 

The toy’s skin had patches of red and marks from my teeth, a glorious site to see before I sat on top of him and put him in me. 

He had no release and I had many, and though he wanted it (a selfish thing he would later be punished for), he did not need or deserve it. 

This boy was mine in all ways. His pleasure was being mine and pleasing me, and I wouldn’t dream of letting that go to waste. 

A Not So Fun Part

The first week was spectacularly tough.

It’s hard in the beginning. Coming to terms with yourself and raw vulnerability are just a couple things that make it difficult to settle in. 

From the submissive side, the difference from his beginning and mine is that I was more equipped to handle it. 

Nevertheless, I was so not prepared. 

I asked a lot of questions. I kept it simple – yes, no, or on a scale (of 1-5 or 1-10) – because that’s what works best for him. I was able to get conversations going by talking about things I was interested in or wanted. 

Finally we were getting somewhere. Interesting how productive talking can be when it’s a two-way deal. 

He had his struggles. Some of them were fun — for instance, his penis was very excited. Others were definitely more difficult, naturally. 

He went back and forth on what he wanted. I get it, really I do. Being a Dom and sub both have positives and negatives. 

Within a few days he jumped from “let’s try it for a month” to “let’s give it a week”. Then he wanted to Dom three weeks out of the month, and guess which week I was supposed to be Domme… 

While I was on my period. 

Oh yes, can we please do that? *rolls eyes*

While I understood the internal dilemma he must have been going through (and I did give him room and a safe place to figure it out), it did not help me at all with my own set of struggles. It was very discouraging to be honest. 

He would also say stupid stuff, like he was disappointed I was so good at it. You see, it made him feel bad because he was starting to see some of the ways he went wrong. From that I can only assume he wanted me to fail. 

I should add, he was enjoying himself sexually during all of this and I frequently asked if he wanted to stop, he assured me he wanted to keep things going. 

I hope you can see how confused this made me. 

I think it was about a week into it when he blew up and told me he couldn’t do it… I never gave him a choice… he was forced into it. 

That night was horrible, to say the least, but we managed to move past it and I remained Domme. 

Note: I do plan on writing more about how that conversation effected me — it was a big turning point.