Equilibrium

Last week, I told Maxearnest that I wanted him to trust that he could push me.  I could be strong for him, and I wanted him to know I was strong enough to meet him.  I trust him to keep the equilibrium, and that is giving me a strength I haven’t had before as a submissive.  Evidently, he took me at my word.  He had me doing something a little more difficult on Skype today--well two difficult things.  One involved a little more pain, of a kind that makes me more numb than hungry. Maxearnest told me to get the devious little pain-inducer, and my head said “Please don’t make me do that!”  But I obeyed.  And then I hoped he just wanted to see that I’d obey, but not make me use it.  But he told me to use it.  My head said “I don’t want to do this! Please! Don’t make me do this!”  But another part of me just obeyed.  I didn't ask him to change his mind.  I didn’t even complain.  I didn’t really tell him how hard it was for me.  I just obeyed.  I think, however, if I hadn't been quite so rebellious in my head, it would have been a lot easier.  And he had me do something that took away a little dignity.   That happens.   I know it is part of the process, but it is something that I resist on some level. I do obey--I just wish I didn’t have to. When he was stripping away a little dignity, my head was saying “why do I have to do this?”  I kept doing what I was told, but I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to.  I know that for all the talk of saying “I’m your slave,” I still have times I don’t feel like I want to obey.  (Yes, that’s a lot of the first-person subject pronoun for someone who is embracing the word ‘slave’ with a ‘master.’) I don’t think I've ever told Maxearnest no.  (I don't think I even ever told the ex no.  Actually, I did once.  The ex liked rough anal, and after he tore me, the doctor said no anal and the ex went to have anal again, I safeworded.  But then, it was like I was obeying the doctor--I wasn’t just not obeying someone.  I would like to think I could have told the ex no, but I never did.  Although, after we broke up and he tried to get me back, before we got together, I made it very clear I wouldn’t get together with the ex without some major changes.  That was the power-woman, protecting the young girl.  But once young girl appeared,  I didn’t have the strength, or the ability, or something, when I was with him to take care of myself.

I don’t know how to submit and to take care of myself.  With me, it’s all or nothing.

So it is damn good that Maxearnest cares, deeply, about taking care of me.  It isn’t an intellectual thing--it is far deeper than that.  When we finished the difficult things today, and I went back to my sofa (where he rarely pushes me--he pushes me more in the hall), Maxearnest realized I was having a hard time.  Sometimes, when I’m obeying, I just focus on obeying and it isn’t till it is done that I realize how hard something was for me.  It is like I can either obey or I can monitor what I’m feeling, but I can’t seem to do both.  When it was done today, Maxearnest wanted better light, which is actually really important, because he reads my face, and he reads it well,, but in trying to get better light, my foot got tangled in my Skype headset and I almost dropped my computer, and I was on the edge of tears.  Maxearnest still had my breasts hanging out as we cuddled, and I just felt all exposed and couldn’t get my equilibrium.  I asked him once if I could put my breasts back in, but he wanted them out.  They weren’t in the picture, but I really felt it.

Maxearnest feels remorse if he pushes me too hard, even if it is just for a moment.  I almost want to fake it when I’m having a hard time because it makes him so sad that I’m sad, and I feel like he is berating himself, even though that is just life--he has to push me to figure out the limits and sometimes for whatever reason, something will be pushed too far for a moment.  I don’t believe he would ever make me do something just because it was hot for him, if it was hurtful for me.  I hate thinking that my weakness causes him pain.  But there’s no way we could have the relationship we do if I lied to him with my face or tried to hide emotions from him.

 Finally, Maxearnest asked what I want, because he could pick up from my face that it was still hard for me.  All his kind words weren’t comforting me. When he asked what he could do to make me feel better, I asked again about my breasts and he said yes, if that’s what I wanted, and I started to recharge.  I think Maxearnest wants me to tell him if he’s given me contradictory orders (“Feel cuddled” and “show your breasts”) but I’m not very good at that.  I can’t seem to make the ‘feel good’ orders as important as the “do this” orders.  I told Maxearnesst that I didn’t think, if I’d already asked something, that I could ask a second time, so he said he would try to ask what I wanted when my mood was off.  I thought it was really lovely he both accepted my limitation and would do that.

The fact that I don’t do a good job of taking care of myself, is OK because he has accepted taking care of me as his responsibility.  And he takes it seriously.  It seems like a lot to put on someone, but I also know that I can’t actually submit and also take care of myself.  I did tell him I really hated what we did today, but I didn’t tell him at the time--I told him afterwards.  Maxearnest said we wouldn’t do it on Skype very often.  (When we’re together--it is different.  I can feel his hand.  I can cuddle against him.  He can kiss away my fears and I can hear his heart beat.)  But it surprised me he would say we wouldn’t do that often, because I do feel like it is his right to demand whatever he wants.  If  something is hot for him, I should be able to do it, regardless of the impact on me.  Honestly, I feel that he has the right to make me miserable if he wanted.

But one of the big reasons I’m with him is because he doesn’t want me to endure being miserable.  He wants me to be happy.  More than wants--it confirms his dominance that he sees me so joyous.  I don’t know how I got it in my bones that if I’ve given myself to a man, then I should endure whatever he wants, and the only decision I can make is ‘do I obey or do I leave forever.’  That’s kind of fucked up.  Really fucked up.  No wonder my power-woman has been so hyper-vigilant.

But Maxearnest is as committed to me being happy as I am to pleasing him.  (And really, I am far more committed to pleasing him than I am to obeying him.  I think that is why a command to ‘feel comforted’ is far easier to ignore than a command to display myself.  I don’t even realize I’m ignoring his command.  I don’t hear those orders the same way.  But, of course, it is always easier to make my body obey than my mind.)  We both please the other; we just do it in different ways.  But his commitment to take care of me makes everything else possible.

Of course, the question of why this all is necessary looms large.  What in me needs to submit to things that I don’t want to do?  Is it because it proves the dynamic?  Is it earning love?  Is it proving myself?  Or is it something about discarding obedience to my logical, linear mind and moving beyond a visceral understanding of the world?  I think they are intertwined in this braided rope that binds me.  My logical brain--is that the left brain or something else? Something more primal, something that taught my ancestors to take their hand away from the fire when it hurt-- that part of me still rebels.  But this other part, this part I can’t name, says “please Maxearnest.”  Use me.  Claim me.

Does breaking down my ego, my logical view of the world, which has many false, limiting worldviews, does breaking that down allow him to rebuild me, stronger, loved and loving, joyous and confident?  It seems odd. I’ve always hated the thought of anyone ‘breaking’ a person, but, on another level, my J.D. program really broke me down and then built me up in ways for which I remain grateful.

I can’t help but notice how the typical tropes of discipline and punish, of Foucalt and Sade, of Anne Rice and Molly Weatherfield and the martyrdom of Catholic saints, how they coalesce and make sense.  Have I embraced this narrative because of the patriarchal and capitalist hegemony that poisoned my mind with sexist images?  Or did those images of primal, animalistic mating exist before homo-sabiens, and am I lucky to have this key to unlock my desire?

I still remember my first kinky act with another human.  I was in college and there was a man I was flirting with (who, incidentally had the same first name as Maxearnest’s middle name).  I was ridiculously attracted to him, but found out he was married.  We stopped flirting, but after a year or two, he explained he was in an open relationship.  I considered it.  We flirted.  And one day, he came over to me and used his pencil as if it were an eyeliner.  And I let him.  Including under my eyes, which involved me trusting him enough to keep my eye open while he traced along the line between my eyelashes and my eyeball.  It was really my first act of submission in real life.  (For what it is worth, I chickened out and all that ever happened between us was an incredibly hot kiss.  I, correctly I believe, came to the conclusion that I wasn’t mature enough to handle an open relationship and I would be jealous.  But it was a decision that part of me always regretted)  But that act of trusting him enough to keep my eye open while he had me so vulnerable and took care of me stuck with me over the decades.

And here is Maxearnest.  Asking I trust him enough to keep my eyes open, and assiduously taking care.  He could demand more of me and I would acquiesce. But I wouldn’t be so joyous. He reads me enough to know how far he can push me and still have me be happy.  Occasionally, he’ll push a wee bit farther, and it will take me a little longer to find my equilibrium.  But I know he won’t push me farther than that.  And so, I say, Yes.  Thank you.  Yes to whatever Maxearnest wants, and thank you to a universe that sent him to find me.

The root of all evil

Maxearnest told me to buy several corsets.  The ones that I had were more like play corsets and aren't rigid enough to really constrict.  And on one level, I'm totally fine with it.  We talked about the ones he liked.  Then I went through and found ones I liked more.  I thought I sent it to him, but it ended up in my drafts folder, so then I thought he had just ignored what I sent.

We talked about it, and realized there was a mistake.  It was fine; he looked at the ones I liked and explained why they wouldn't work and I bought the ones he liked, plus one that I liked (with his approval).  But it was really, really hard for me!

His corsets were chosen very carefully, looking at what would flatter my figure and be quite, quite binding.  (He is looking at bringing my waist in 6 or 7 inches with these, which is, in theory, a little overwhelming.)  They are elegant, but they feel austere to me.  I ended up adding the ballet tutu I wanted when I was 8.  Why?  When on earth will I wear a ballet tutu?  It is ridiculous.  But I really, really wanted it.  (And it wasn't that much money--it is a much cheaper corset that won't go very tight, and probably won't look great because it is designed for a C cup or less and I have a D cup, whereas his choices should be more flattering.)  But his choices don't feel 'pretty' to me.  They are elegant, but not cute.  When my little girl side wants something, I do try and look at it.  (I have an envelope with $5 bills in it for my little-girl side to go shopping whenever she wants.   There is $100 and that seems like a promise that is important to that side of me, but somehow, I never actually go shopping.)  I would have liked things that were more romantic than sexy.  Bows and sequins and teddy bears.  (Maybe not all in one corset.)

But this entire thing was very hard for me!  It wasn't because these corsets are more austere--my flimsy corset that I already had was austere.  But I bought it on ebay for $30 maybe 8 years ago.  

Giving up control of money scared the heck out of me.  Even just a little bit.  It really does scare me.  My father always resented my mother for not making her own money and dammit, I make my own money and no man is going to resent me.  There are times I think my mom wanted out and couldn't because she didn't really have income.  The thought of actually being dependent is terrifying to me.  I loved how Maxearnest took care of me in Iceland.  He was gracious and protecting and took care of me.  But he shouldn't have to do that all the time.

Part of it is that I spent way too much money this year on remodeling a bathroom and installing a deck.  For the first time in a decade, I have no money in savings and I owe my parents seven grand.  (I have no credit card debt--I maxed out a credit card in college and it terrified me and I've always paid them off in full each month ever since, and I've paid off my college loans, so there is just my mortgage left.)   I am used to always having a little more in my bank than I think I do, and for the last 6 months, I always have a little less than I think.  And that really does scare me.  And my reaction to spend less money is a good one!  Absolutely!!  More Americans should say "I don't have enough money--why don't I stop buying stuff I don't need?!"

But that isn't the issue.  This wasn't that much money, and I can afford it.  There was something about giving up control of money that really did freak me out.  Maxearnest told me to buy something and I got out my credit card and bought it, without much say over it.  My power woman side has always been in control of money, and being good with money is a point of pride.  I live in a part of town where people with my salary can't normally live.  Because I'm good with money (and I love my neighborhood and house).  I can go see Maxearnest for a few months this summer because I can work from home during that time, because I am good with money and can go part time.  I have several friends that pressure me to spend money, and I'm always saying "I can't afford that."  I'm used to saying it. I don't spend a lot of money on clothes.  I'm quite generous on one level, but if a frugal sort of way. I avoid splurges.

But here's the thing.  Maxearnest is creating an absolutely dynamite sex life for both of us.  Just because he is the creative one figuring all this out and planning all of it doesn't mean he should have to pay for everything.  I'm a feminist; shouldn't feminists pay for some of the sex toys?  I want to be an equal partner in this wonderful life we're creating.  If he wants to tell me to buy something, I want to skip along and say "Yes Sir!"  But I don't!  I'll try to say "I'll do as you wish."  But damn, it is hard!  I'm afraid that I may have to talk more about this sort of thing in the future.  This is hard for me.  But why does money make things so hard?

Dear John

I had the oddest dream last night.  I went to confession.  (I'm not Catholic; I've never been Catholic.)  It was in the cathedral where, in real life, I was confirmed, back when I was trying to believe in God.  A lovely Episcopal lady priest and I had a conversation and I said "I'm sinning, according to the Bible, but I don't believe this is sin, nor would my parents believe this is sin . But I know the church says pre-marital sex is sin."  And she said "I'm not really sure what to say.  Let me talk to some other people, but if you don't believe it is sin, I don't know that you need to confess this."

Ever since John's funeral, I have worn the ring he borrowed when we were talking about getting married.  I wasn't sure what I would do with it, before I got it.  I was so stunned about his death (and, honestly, before his death I felt this weird sense that he kept pulling me to him and I couldn't let go of him).  But the second I received my ring, I felt this wave of realization that John had loved me.  Yes, things were weird, but he had absolutely loved me with all he his capacity of loving.

For the last year and a half, I've worn this ring as an affirmation that I am lovable.  And, truth be told, I've asked John's advice.  I've asked him to keep an eye on me and help me a little.  He wanted to watch me emerge from my shell, which hurt me at the time--what do you mean you think I'll be amazing if I can turn into a butterfly?  Why can't I be amazing now?  But he was right.  For the last year and a half, I've often turned my ring around on my finger and asked what John would think. "Would John think this is a risk worth taking?"   He would have been delighted I went to Iceland.  "Would John think he is good enough for me?"  I've been scared of that question, because John didn't think John was good enough for me.  And, in a way, he was right.  He couldn't give me what he thought I needed and deserved.

A year after John died, I bought another ring to wear on that finger, and I couldn't do it.  After a couple of days, I felt naked.  I missed that talisman so much.

This morning I took off the old ring slowly, circling it around my finger many times, and said something like this:

Dear John,

If you exist in any form any more...

Thank you for keeping such a loving eye on me for so long.  I am going to be good.  I release you.  If there is some other realm that spirits get to explore when their ties on earth are loosened, explore.  I'm going to be good.  I may call on you again someday, but there are no obligations.

I want you to know that I loved you.  I hope you have found the sense of being loved and lovable and loving.  But any responsibility you may feel towards me is complete.

I don't know how Maxearnest found me.  But if you had anything to do with sending him in my direction, well, that is nothing short of miraculous, so I think there's a chance that some being was pulling for us. 

I'm happy.  I am loved.  I love.  I hope you find happiness and love.

And, with that, I took off John's my ring and put on another one that has no emotional ties for me.  I may want it again some day.  But for the moment, I want to let Maxearnest into those spaces of my life.

Content

There's this cool and exciting change with me with Maxearnest--I trust him and thus I am embracing all the kink in a way that I haven't seen before.  Stuff that always scared me, well, it all seams pretty cool now!  My reluctance is vanishing.

About 7 years or so ago, there was a discussion on the local bdsm listserve about whether a Dom had a right to cut off a sub's ear.  This was a heated discussion, and the general consensus was no, not a sub's ear.  But a slave's ear?  About a third of the guys said yes.  And I screamed (silently) "what the fuck is wrong with you people!"  Thus began my vigilant watch.  Shortly thereafter, I got involved with "the ex" who, for all his faults, never tried to permanently damage me (at least not physically).  Part of me stopped believing I could find a romantic kinky relationship, where the Dom would have a sense of chivalry and protection.  I always wanted "someone to watch over me."  But I began to think that was just the stuff of fairy tales, like Anne Rice's Beauty books.  I think I began to view the battle of the sexes as a battle over sex.

But still, Every night I dreamed a little dream.
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?
There's a somebody I'm longing to see.
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me.
I'm a little lamb that's lost in the wood.
I know I could, always be good,
to one who'll watch over me.
Oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me.

Well, Maxearnest watches over me.  Carefully and lovingly and lustfully.  He sees this as a responsibility, and it is a lot of work to look out for us both, and I can see how carefully he takes it.  I honestly think if something were a zero-sum game--if one of the two of us had to be made unhappy so the other could be happy, and there was no way around it, we would both pick to make the other one happy at our expense.  I'm pretty darn sure of it, actually.

Maxearnest adores me.  As much as I adore him!  He loves me being happy.  "A happy slave is a good slave" he says.  And he believes (and he is right) that I'm far more eager to serve him and try much harder because I am happy with him.  From the beginning, he made it very clear that yes, there are things he likes to do.  But he'd have to get to know me and my body to see what made sense for us.  Everyone else I've known would have expected me to do whatever he wanted.  I expected me to do whatever he wanted.  I knew there were kinks I couldn't live with, but I figured you dealt with that by open communication and not getting involved with someone into bestiality, or whatever.  It never occurred to me that a Dom would care so much about me that he would consider not doing some things he liked doing.  (Although, I think I'm up for whatever Maxearnest wants.)

Maxearnest gives me so much freedom.  I had to ask him something about summer plans that delays my coming to see him by about a week.  The young girl in me said "just ask for permission; you know he'll say yes."  And the Power woman said "No--we're not asking permission for this.  I think he'd say yes but it is manipulative and sets a bad precedent.  We have to be able to talk about stuff like this."

My power woman side didn't want her own way, per se, but she wanted it to be considered in a professional context, where both of us had equal say in the decision, and we could negotiate what might work for both of us.  As soon as I told Maxearnest what I wanted to do, he immediately said 'yes.'  Which didn't give power woman a chance to explain why she wanted to do it.  But the precedent that when something is important to my power woman side we can talk about it differently came through.  But Maxearnest has always respected my power woman side.

From the beginning, Maxearnest really embraced my bifurcation.  And he said to my 'power woman' "Thank you for protecting the young girl.  You've done a good job, but I know how hard that was for you.  I can take it over from here.  Go conquer the world!  I want to see what you will do!"  And that side of me trusted him and heard him and released the careful custody of my young girl.  But she still comes back to explain what the young girl side doesn't have the perspective or wisdom to explain (like why I suggested going to the local club.)

I always thought that I would fight my potential Dom, just like this woman.  That rings very true to who I was before I met him.  But, again, Maxearnest is different.  I haven't fought him at all.  If anything, I'm the one saying "you can push me harder if you want."  I actually really love the way he has been choreographing, but I want him to know that I'm strong.  I can meet him.  This is like the tango.  The female has to follow his lead, but she is up for whatever he throws her way. I can meet him and mirror him.

The young girl is kinkier than, frankly, my logical side really knew.  I mean, I certainly knew what I'd think about when I played with myself, but I never really thought it would have any bearing on reality.  But because Maxearnest respects my public side and so clearly wants my young girl to be just happy and joyous, I'm getting to the point where I want to do everything.

Maxearnest had me doing something a tiny bit difficult on Skype yesterday.  Not insanely difficult, but a little hard.  Hard enough I was a bit subdued.  And when we were done, we "cuddled" on Skype.  He had me put my hand against my cheek, imagine he was petting me, while he said lovely sweet things to me.  And in about 5 minutes or so, I was SO happy!  Happy to have pleased him; happy to 'cuddle' the best we could.  And this sex-kitten side came out of my personality that I've never seen before.  This side of me was confident and eager and mischievous and playful.  Hungry and submissive (I'm always hungry and submissive in eroticism), but definitely a willing accomplice and not just an innocent victim.  This was a side of me that I haven't seen before and that I really like!

There's this amazing 9-part fantasy series, which I truly loved (by Robin Hobbs, read Ship of Magic first if you are interested--she's an amazing writer).  At the end of the 9th book, this character, who has gone through utter hell and figured out ways to live a good life says "I am content."  I thought it was the best ending I've ever read.  "I am content."  This isn't an ending; I hope and feel this is a beginning.  But I am content.

Corny as Kansas in August

I went to a friend's birthday party tonight--he is a gay guy, and the only one who really knows where Maxearnest and I met.  (There are many variations out there--my family believes we met at a youth hostel last week...  I even lied to Dotty.  I told her that we met because he read my blog.  I couldn't tell Dotty I met him on a sex web site.)

So this gay friend, who is never judgmental about sex (although slightly judgmental about my puritanical side) actually had a very nice party (in a home, with karaoke, which was fun!) and I had much-too-much to drink.  Limoncello.  I'd never had it before.  It tastes like a lemon drop, but then it has a real kick.  (I got tipsy enough that my friend, who is always pushing me to drink more, said, politely "are you having another drink?"  And when I said "seltzer" he, for once, nodded.  (I was actually glad--I've only ever felt him push me to drink more.)  My friend asked some leading questions, and I ended up telling people that I had gotten back this week from Iceland and hadn't seen much of Iceland. 

I miss Maxearnest so much.  We are skyping a huge amount.  And we are doing things on Skype I never thought I'd do.  Vanilla things (we almost cuddled today) and rather kinky things, made slightly harder because I know they are on Skype.  But I don't see how we'd get through 2 months without Skype.  It will be hard, even with Skype.  I think we're both very sexual and tactile people.  We will clearly be the kind of people who would prefer to have sex every day. 

I told Maxearnest today that I thought we should go to a leather club when he is here.  I never in a million years thought I would ever do something like that, and maybe we won't--it is up to him of course.  But my old perceived limits are melting.  And I would be proud to submit to him in front of other people.  Somehow, they would be witnesses to the fact that I'm his, well, slave.  In a way that I feel like would be more real, since none of my friends will ever know I have anything other than missionary position.  (Actually, a friend was over and needed to borrow some laundry detergent, and I'm pretty darn sure she saw black rope in the laundry room that needs to be washed.  But she didn't say anything.  Maybe it is left over from a sailing expedition.  Of I've started rock climbing.  Or maybe I'm studying for my boy scouts exam.  Yeah, that's it.)

Anyway, the party ends earlier than I thought it would (11 pm, on a Saturday!), and I'm much too tipsy to drive, so I walk home, along the water.  There is a walk that has a lot of cars, but no other pedestrians at night, and I walk along as sing to the water:  "I'm in love with a wonderful guy."  And I am!  I haven't sung outdoors like that, just at the joy of being alive, in decades.  I felt like a teenager again.  And then I moved onto "A little bit in love (or perhaps a little bit more)" and back and forth between the two songs.

I feel so very blessed.  I've been wishing on a star at night, as I am wont to do, but I've just been thanking the stars for sending me what I wanted for so long.  

MaxEarnest's Young Girl

I had a weird dream last night.  I try not to blog about dreams, but this one seems worthy of mention.

Maxearnest and I check into a hotel and his young girl is with us.  She is about 12, which, incidentally, is about the age that I feel like is my submissive young girl side.  In the dream, however, she is a really separate person.

So the girl gets her own room and invites some friends over and Maxearnest and I go to our room.  The next day, I go by and check on the girl and she has completely remodeled her hotel room.  She and her friends added a window on a second wall.  They've added a second floor.  This is the logic of dreams where, instead of just sawing through the wall into someone else's room, it actually has made their shoe-box sized hotel room much bigger and nicer.  But I am freaking out.  I think they've probably done about twenty-thousand dollars worth of damage.  In addition to the walls, they've taken up the carpet and put in a hardwood floor.  They've added more plumbing.  It is amazing what three 12-year-olds can do with some power tools and a few hours in a dream.  I'm really freaking out and I get Maxearnest.

He sits his girl down and asks what she's done and why.  He doesn't get furious.  He doesn't tell her to obey all the rules society says.  And then, in the dream, I become her (ooh--what a surprise ending) and he and I figure out a way that it will work out, because the room is actually much nicer now, so the hotel won't be mad.  And in the dream, everything works out.  Young girl gets to be creative and implement her dreams.

This dream was so freeing for me.  I think a Jungian would notice that the 'me' in the dream is very focused on following the rules and the young girl completely remakes the box.  The me casts first Maxearnest and then the hotel as the strict, punishing figure, and Maxearnest comes around and says "it is beautiful.  We'll make it work."  Maxearnest in the dream (and in real life) wants me to obey him (and there really isn't any doubt there) but he also wants me to be creative and feel free to try anything I want.  (Of course, anything I want, at least so far, has always included obeying him and wanting to please him.  But when I was thinking about leaving for a few weeks this summer, he wanted to support me in that as well.)

I can see why my young girl side is so joyous with him!

Or perhaps a little bit more....

I am missing Maxearnest and loving Maxearnest.  I won't see him for another 2 months, and I want to enjoy these 2 months.  I'm too old to just waste a couple of months being unhappy because I don't have everything I want.  But I miss him so much!

My head says:  "You're being crazy Connie!  Everything looks good.  But slow the heck down!"

And my heart says "YES!"  It doesn't have the frantic energy I sometimes have with crushes.  There has not been one single red flag.  This just feels so right.

I'm a little scared to blog about everything that was said because I know how quickly everything happened.  But I also know that it feels like coming home.  Like we've always known each other.  Like my heart just fits with his.  In fact, there are times, it feels so right, I can't quite believe it.

Maxearnest cares about me.  I don't think I've ever had a man who cared about me the way he does.  I remember in January when he e-mailed me about why I wasn't giving Nate more of a chance, and I said "well, I'm not his first or second or third priority.  I'm OK with that (because his daughter, parent's failing health and job were his first three priorities), but I'm beginning to wonder if I'm his fourth."  And that was what, I think, made Maxearnest woo me with maximum earnestness.  Until then, he was saying "go for Nate" and then he was saying "you deserve more than that!"  I don't think I've ever really felt like I deserved being someone's first priority.

When something is too hard for me, Maxearnest sees it in my face and pulls back, because he wants me to be happy!  He lets me tell him when something is hard for me, and why, and takes that seriously.  And he says that I just don't have to worry about topping from the bottom, because he really doesn't feel like I do.  If I want to bring something up, he wants to know what it is.

What surprises me is how quickly I have been willing to share some of my darker desires.  I started off saying "I don't like pain, but I'll endure a little."  Then I was a little more honest--I crave the idea of pain.  Now, I'm saying "yes--I need some pain."  I feel safe telling him that because I see how protective he is of me.  I can admit to wanting some pain, because I don't feel like he will then demand he can brand me.  (I'm not saying I'd never agree to that, but one of my first hard limits, which he totally respected, was that I got an equal say in any permanent body modifications.  And I think branding would be about the hardest thing I could imagine.  And I doubt he'd even ask me to do that.)

He genuinely delights in me being happy! He says "A happy slave is a good slave."  And yes, we have begun to use words like 'owner' and 'slave.'  I've always resisted those labels in the past, because it felt like it was giving up too much.  But now it makes me happy because I can see that being owned by him makes me happier than I think I'd ever be on my own.  And honestly, my fantasies and desires have always tended in that direction, but I couldn't imagine a master giving me the freedom that Maxearnest gives my "power woman" side.  I've always felt with other men like it was a battle, or a negotiation.  Not just a wonderful collaboration, where the more we give the more we get because there is so much to share!  He really just wants to own the young girl side.  He nudges the power woman (which is great), but he respects and likes her.  He even loves her!  He wants me to be fulfilled in my professional life and have friends and enjoy my hobbies and have amazing, kinky sex.  My guess is some of my readers would think it is all happening much too quickly, so I'm a little embarrassed to post that.  Or maybe my 'power woman' side thinks things are happening too quickly.  But it feels like both sides are feeling really secure and content.  Like my whole being is just singing "yes."

Last night, we were doing something on Skype that was hard for me.  When he said we'd do it in the future, I kind of freaked out a little.  (I can endure more in a moment, when I don't think, and I'm just trying to endure; then, after I've endured, the thought of having to do it again will actually be worse for me than what I just did.)  Whether or not it was rational on my part, he pushed me to a place that scared me.  Intellectually, I don't believe there was any real risk, but if I got struck by lightening, or something, it would be risky.   (Never mind that if I am struck by lightening in my home, then more is going that I have to worry about.)  It felt scary. This morning, he could see I was still low-key.  I didn't bring up that yesterday was hard for me, but I was less bubbly, and he noticed that I was a little quiet, and brought up last night, and said we wouldn't do that on Skype again. That I needed to be comforted after something like that, and he needed to cuddle me too, and he needed to be there, in case something was unforeseen.  Part of me felt guilty, like if I was a better girl, I would have hid the difficulty from him.  In the past I honestly felt like the fact that something was difficult for me was topping from the bottom!  (That is how crazy so many of the men I've been involved with have been!)  But I know he wants me to be honest and happy.  And I can do that!  

I don't really know how I was so lucky that Maxearnest found me!  It seems almost miraculous.  Like we just fit.  I think he feels as lucky as I do!  I know this is all so new.  I know there may be projections and we are probably both seeing the other as we hope to see the other and not noticing some of the differences.  But that is just my intellect trying to reassure my dear readers that I haven't lost my mind.  (Would you like me to deconstruct my heteronormative fantasies? "The eroticization of S&M functions as the conceptual frame for the historicization of the (re)gendered (fe/male) body."  There--I still have it!)  I also know this is kink like I always dreamed it would be.  And more.  He makes me confident to share my desires and feel like I can trust him in anything.  With him, I am capable of enjoying so much more than I ever thought I could just endure.  He opens me up and makes me bubbly. I'm laughing with joy.  I am so happy to be his friend.  And his lover.  And his obedient young slave girl.