Because I Was Told To

Tears feel funny when they run up your face instead of down.

I never figured myself much of one for begging for instruction but here I am again seeking. 

Bad day today. Stress brings tears with me more often than pain or sadness. So it’s how I find myself kneeling in front of my laptop tonight asking E to tell me something to do, resting my head on the bed in front of my knees while I waited on his answer and contemplating the odd sensation of tears running up my over my eyelids.

I know I haven’t written in a while so it’s here in his instructions that I suppose I should start….Oh where to start…

I don’t want to talk about all my stressors and frustrations right now. Maybe my curiosities and occupations.. yes. That.

My ponderings of late: I keep walking this tightrope I’ve set up on my imaginary line between submissive and slave. Each of us draws our own and I’ve always firmly refused to cross mine. Yet it seems I continue to do so. Or maybe it’s just that my definition of this line has changed or wavered in some way. I’ve blurred it. Am I redefining me or am I redefining the line?

Most of this line of thought was prompted by the demo on connecting E and I went to this past Saturday night. The couple, particularly the slave, kept talking on things that I so identify with. Aspects of service, the reasons and feelings behind that service and such things.  Like the simple joy I feel when tending to E’s coffee. I never even wanted to feel any such thing, but it’s there. And it bothers me when I can’t tend to it and have that joy.  My joy. Mine. Dammit.

Have I mentioned that I hate making beds? HATE… Not his. Why? Because it’s his and I’m doing it for him. I’m still not used to this behavior in me. It’s strange and I don’t really know what to do with it but just go with it. It doesn’t really bother me but it is… well it’s something I’m somewhat in awe of. I’m curious about it and the why and how and what for of it... and the how long. Particularly the how long. 

Looking at myself a year ago I would have been sending someone else to get my coffee… hell. I was. Yet now I not only want this… I need this. It bothers me when I don’t get to do these little things for him… when he doesn’t give me tasks or assign me duties. I feel a little unsettled when I’m not doing something specifically for him.

It’s most difficult when I’m away from him. When part of me still wars against the other. The little spiteful creature whispering “You don’t really have to (fill in the blank). He can’t tell if you do or don’t.” with an answer “But I want to” “why?”   “because… it pleases him” “so?” … and so on and so forth.  My self control sucks. I have this battle with myself over various things. Food. Orgasm. Laundry.  My things. My parents’ things.  Even little things like putting away the kids’ clothes. Some days it’s a total “Do I have to???” well… Most days.

Some would argue “but isn’t everything you do for him and don’t your actions reflect on him?” well yeah. But there’s a huge difference in my brain in doing his dishes and doing my parents’ dishes... in making his bed and making my bed… in enduring for him and enduring without him.

Today enduring without him was a bitch. 

Ok. So now that I got that out and I’m in a better state of mind.. I’m finding that I don’t really have anything more to say. I don’t necessarily feel better but I don’t feel like I can make any more progress here right now.

Until next time…

~Surri