Rant about Kink and other stuff

I shouldn’t have anything to complain about. The items within my last post were resolved very effectively and I start a new job on Wednesday for £20,000 a year + bonuses. Things are getting better.

However, at the moment, I don’t really have anyone to talk to about how I’m feeling and about certain things that are worrying me. My best friend and I aren’t exactly close at the moment – we’re more like distant cousins, the kind that see each other seldom and can’t talk to eachother about anything when they do. That and my boyfriend gets frustrated easily by my need to talk about things all the time. One of the issues too, would frustrate him as he sees it as a futile worry, but I beg to differ.

Recently I had another unhealthy attack of crazy. It’s been a lingerer too; sticking around in tiny doses to come out when my guard is down. It’s getting less and less and soon hopefully this latest bout will be gone. I know I should see a doctor but a doctor will recommend meds and a counsellor and from past experience, counselling just does not work. It just makes me angrier. As such I’m stuck; what do I do? Where do I go? All things that need answering but tht I don’t seem able to find answers too as the generic response is : “You need counselling/help.”

I awoke this morning to dreams plagued by babies and me giving birth. This is all because I’m exhibiting some of the symptoms of pregnancy but if we’re really going to be critical about it, I genuinely don’t think I can be. My contraception comes out on Monday and I know that I’ll bleed, but the last time I got pregnant I had periods for the first two months… Even so, it doesn’t change the fact that even my non-wired bra seems too small now, and my breasts are tender. I’m hoping this is just hormonal fluctuations involving my contraception; the migraines I got with my last pregnancy haven’t started yet so fingers crossed it is just a false alarm. If not, then I have more demons to face:

• If I am pregnant, He’s not allowing me to terminate it – he wants me to carry it full term and for us to raise it. I’m not sure I can do this, I feel too young, too unprepared. Yes, my mum was raising two kids by my ages but who gives a fuck – I’m not my mum and unlike her I can admit that I’m too fucked up to raise a kid, no matter how sound my principles may be.
• He wants us to marry asap if I am pregnant in order that we have a proper go of things. Great, my marriage is going to be a forced affair, rather than a voluntary one. Yes, fucking brilliant.

There are more but my head isn’t clear enough right now. Those are the main issues. As I said, it’s probably a false alarm and these are all probably needless worries, but nevertheless, can anyone really expect me not to be worrying about them?

The other thing that’s bugging me lately is polyamoury. Pretty much ALL of my friends on the scene seem to be doing it and it’s making me feel like I’m some sort of abnormal freak for wanting to be monogamous. They’re all writing about this and that person, how they’re so excited to be seeing their kinky lovers, two, three, four of them. I mean, I’m more annoyed about the fact that one person only ever solicited my company in the form of texts and messages because he fancied me and wanted to play with me. Now he’s got himself his second lover as he’s been searching for for ages, I’ve not heard of him and know that I won’t hear of him.

Now, is it so wrong to wish people would be happy just being friends and if so, that they could be a real friend? I mean, I never expected him to keep talking to me – he tried to rub my face in the fact he got himself a second lover TWICE – not that I’m not happy for him, I am wonderfully happy he’s got what he wanted, but still. He probably didn’t mean any of this, but that isn’t the point. The slights that were unintentional are always felt more keenly.

I’m happy they’re happy; happy they can find happiness doing something that for me is considered unfaithful, but that’s them and me and we’re different. I’m just sick of seemingly being the only fucking monogamous kinky person in Britain and quite frankly, it’s making me want to leave the scene, Fetlife and IC altogether because I’m sick of feeling like a freak. It just makes me feel like everyone else is experienced at kink and me? Well I’m just a pretender.

Grr. I’m so annoyed by so many things. Why is it that I always have to be the black sheep of fucking everything. My family, work, my friends, social networking… everything. And I wish I was making this up.

Just Wishing

I wish I was pretty, like my sister.

I wish I hadn’t fucked things up, like the rest of my peers from college seemed not to do.

I wish I’d never gotten pregnant.

I wish I had more money.

I wish I had bigger balls.

I wish I had a purpose.

I wish I could trust people.

I wish I could stop biting my nails.

I wish I could stomach fruit and vegetables.

I wish I was interesting.

I wish I was motivated.

I wish people wouldn’t forget me.

I wish I was more likable.

I wish I could be a better lover.

I wish I could make my boyfriend want me more.

I wish I knew what I wanted.

I wish I knew who I am.

…

I want too much.

Do as you’re told.

I’d gone too far. Again. When would I learn to shut my mouth and listen to him? Not soon at this rate; I was too full of a desperate fire, a need to have my point made and listened to. I know this stems from my years as a teenager and the troubled arguments between my Dad, his girlfriend and me, and how my frustration that they would never listen to me made me angry and resentful. But Daddy isn’t in the mood for explanations today.

He turns to me, his eyes cold with fury and I know that this isn’t going to end well. “I’ve had enough of listening to you,” he says, his tone cold and hard. Emotions of fear and resentment fight for prominence within my chest. “Decide if you want your laptop or book; I want you to go upstairs and stay there for the rest of the night.”

I glared at him, resentment winning out for the moment. A moment’s silence was all it took to anger him further. “well?” he demanded. “Which do you want, your laptop or your book?”

I folded my arms and stared back in defiance. “You can’t just send me upstairs,” I told him. His eyes glittered.

“I’m giving you one more chance to go upstairs of your own will, otherwise I will drag you there.”

I glared at him. He looked coolly back at me. His next move was sudden. One hand grabbed my book, the other ripped my glasses from my face and then his hand grabbed my face and his fingers dug in my cheek and under my jaw. I tried to struggle but the pain exploded in the crrok between my jaw and ear and he dragged me off the sofa.

I writhed away from him, but only for a second. Suddenly his arms were around me in a bear hug and I was pushing back against him, using my legs against the sofa as leverage. He simply dragged me away and pushed me into the kitchen.

I was crying, making sounds of protest but inside, my feelings were so conflicted that I couldn’t act with any real conviction. Daddy was yelling at me in that harsh tone of his about how I never do anything he wants, how I always say I want to but I never do. He was yelling my face and the tears came thick and fast. I couldn’t deny the truths he was attacking me with.

I tried to resist his hand in my hair but the sobs were turning me into a frightful mess and he forced me up the stairs. When I stopped and refused to move, sitting on the step and facing him, he grabbed me by the face again and forced me up the stairs.

At the top, he let go and I backed into the room on all fours, eyes watching him warily,flinching as he threw my book and mobile phone on the bed. I was speaking through my sobs, telling him that he couldn’t do this. He lunged forward and raised me up by my hair, bringing me close to his face. I don’t remember what he said to me, but I know my response earned the hardest slap around the face I can ever remember receiving from him. He flung me to the floor, and left the room, barking the command “Stay here,” as he closed the door.

I was shaken. Feelings of resentment rode high within me, annoyance bloomed every time I considered he hadn’t listened to me. I went and sat before the mirror, watching the red handprint blossom on my face, and the tears stopped after a while.

Minutes passed and Daddy came through the door brusquely. I looked up at him, eyes red and almost glowering in misery. He looked calmer than before.

“I’ll be up in ten minutes, okay baby?” His tone softer now, his usual kind, gentle Daddy-voice. I nodded.

He kept his word. He returned to the room and we talked. I almost ran him out of the room again, but quickly backpedalled and showed my contrition.

Eventually, he commanded me to bed, ordering me to write to him the day following all of the things that I was upset about. Then and only then would I be able to read the letter he was going to write me while I was in bed.

***********

Things sorted themselves out. Problems were written and compromises made, but I learned something so important from the way he behaved with me. Sometimes I acted like a child. Sometimes, when he told me to be quiet and that he’d had enough, he meant.

And always, always, Daddy knows best. The punishment might have seemed odd, but it fit. It worked. I like to think I have learned my lesson.

I hope I can prove as much to Daddy.

Kiss And Make Up

So things escalated to not exactly an all-time high but pretty close to it. He got sick of me the other night so after giving me the option of going quietly upstairs to our room of our own accord to sit alone for awhile, which I stubbornly refused, He dragged me upstairs kicking and screaming, by my hair and face, threw me in the room, closed the door and left.

Turns out it was for the best. I calmed down while glaring at my reflection as a bright pink handprint blossomed there; and he came upstairs to talk sense and then send me to bed.

Everything has been solved; compromises made and we both are happy once more.

Suffice to say I’m just a pratt, really.

Typical Female Rant

Way to start with a sexist title.

So, at the moment, I’m feeling very, very unfulfilled, unsatisfied and harbour a general, undeniable feeling of unhappiness.

I am not happy.

I should be; I have (almost) everything I could wish for. Granted, the house is pretty much falling down around us, but that’s fine. Everything is great.

But it isn’t.

My family STILL don’t get in touch with me. I STILL have to initiate contact with them. It’s STILL a one-way fucking street, but fuck! I wanna hit Reverse, once in a while! I’d like some Give in this supposed ‘Give and Take’. And He doesn’t fucking understand and doesn’t fucking try to,explaining that since there’s nothing I can do about it, I should basically get he fuck on with life and not think about it. And the fact that I think about it ALL THE TIME is my own damn fault.

Incidentally, He’s fucked me off in more ways than one at the moment. I’ve never felt less sexy and undesired in my whole fucking life and for Pete’s sake I’m twenty-fucking-one. Does he ever initiate sex with me? No. Will he entertain the idea of violence-only ‘play’ sessions? No. Am I getting everything I need in that respect right now? Uh, no.

My friends haven’t bothered getting in touch with me for nearly 4 weeks. Four Weeks. I was at their house almost every week and suddenly they just didn’t want to know anymore. I had to get in touch with them. Again. FFS. I’ve just had enough of this shit.

I’m sick of being taken for granted.I’m sick of it being assumed that I’m always gonna be there and that eventually I’m just gonna appear out of nowhere and pick up the pieces after their shiny new toy has broken and left them unhappy and miserable.

And He’s only half-heartedly putting himself into our D/s dynamic. He says he’ll do this and that to contribute but it just feels like I’m Domming myself. I don’t feel subservient to him at all, because I’m  the one who keeps tabs on me as to whether I’ve done/I’m doing stuff as required. And eventually, I get bored with that and do what the fuck I like.

What’s the polite way to tell your partner that YOU’RE FUCKING BORED!?

And I am. I’m stifled with the boredom.The lack of interest he has in ANYTHING BEYOND THE FOUR WALLS OF THE HOUSE. If t doesn’t have a fridge in the next room and an Xbox in the one he’s sitting in then he’s just not fucking interested. Christ I sit around naked pretty much all the time and he never even so much as gets a semi.

I want to go out. I want him to come with me when I see my family ONCE OR FUCKING TWICE A MONTH. I want to go out of the house and see something, or go lingerie shopping, OR GO TO A FUCKING BDSM CLUB WHERE I CAN SEE MY FRIENDS AND DO SOMETHING!!!!

But no. Alas, these things are not to be so I have to content myself with being a fucking housewife. And a terrible one, at that. And I fucking guarantee you he doesn’t Collar me this year, either.

‘I Suck’ – A Sub’s Confession

It’s true, I do. I used to do it for 20p a go round the back of garages.

Well, that’s total bollocks but you can’t blame me for trying to inject some light humour into a post, can you?

So it turns out that actually, I pretty much suck at everything to do with this ‘submitting’ business. I just fail at it, in general. And as much as I try to convince myself it is, keeping my house clean and tidy and doing all the housework myself is NOT part of my submission. It’s my neuroticism. And they are different.

Anyone who’s met me will know that I am fiercely headstrong (although often conflicted) and very much the feminist in terms of male/female equality. I didn’t break my back kicking boy’s arses all through high school just to prove that I am beneath a man. No, I did it because I wanted to show I was just as good at things as they were. I was certainly better at climbing trees than them, anyway. (Though I wonder know if they didn’t just lag behind so they could watch my arse or spy my knickers…)

In any case, I’m about as far from the meek, demure and obedient submissive that my partner wants me to be. I don’t mean to say that he doesn’t treat me with respect and equality, he does, very much so. Indeed we spend most of our time pissing about on the Xbox together. It’s just that when he tells me to do something rather than do it with eagerness or even with composure, if I’m even slightly in a bad mood, I’ll kick off all seven levels of Hell about it.

The problem is that it’s led to my partner believing that I just don’t want to submit. Which isn’t true. I very much want to submit. I’m just finding it hard as hell.

I should point out that I don’t get punished, either. He doesn’t think that kind of relationship would be beneficial to us. He wants me to either do as I’m told, or not; the choice is mine, but I have to make it clear which it is. I guess in a way, his punishment is the threat of removing his control over me if I don’t do things more contentedly.

My problem is that a part of me, a very small part of me is worried he’ll take the piss out of me. I told him this and he got very upset as “it showed I didn’t trust him”. I do trust him but I’m still worried.

How do I do it? How do I just do everything he wants of me while he sits around on the Xbox having the easy life? What is it about the way I see this situation that’s stopping me from submitting properly to him, the way I want to?

These are questions I’m going to try and answer over time, but any and all input is greatly welcomed and appreciated.

Uh-oh

I was just sitting here when I realised something i’ve been trying to hide away from for a long time.

All that talk about me being comfortable in my body and feeling happy with my looks is utter bullshit.

I absolutely hate everything about myself. That’s why I’m so fucking miserable.

…

Jesus. H. Christ.