Ranting Again

Why does it seem that the women of all the blogs I read and even the ones I come into direct contact with have more than enough money and time to get all pampered and buy special things and do fun activities that cost.. well.. MONEY? Maybe it just seems so glaring to me right now because I have ... well.. none. And I'm floundering, fighting against a ton of jealousy. Trying to keep that "positive attitude" that's included in my contract and be a good sub and a good mother and student and... whatever else I have to be for the day. A good me. But dammit it's HARD. Because of my location, I'm isolated. Because of my schedule, I'm isolated. Because of my lack of money, I'm isolated. It's no one's fault and I know it'll take time to be fixed, but dammit... I'm beyond tired of it right now.

A break would be nice. To not get chastised for being negative. For using my ever present sarcastic defenses.... For saying "really???" one too many times. I know I brought these things on myself, but I need a way to express my frustration. I usually get it out by over reacting to the little things. Example: stupid song comes on pandora.. I had just thumbs downed one almost exactly like it two songs before. Reaction? "Really??  Seriously?? Sheesh!" I get frowned at at the very least. And oh wait.. I'm supposed to reduce my use of the word stupid applying to nonthinking things... well crap. I say I want a break.. but really I don't think I do. I want more consistency. If I can't say those things then... I should get the frown EVERY time... not just when he's tired or fed up with someone else saying such things. Such as with cursing. He's not been reacting happily to my using curse words lately, but when I ask him if he doesn't want me to use such words so I can make a conscious effort NOT to use those words... he says no.. so what's the solution here? I don't like his frown. I'd much rather have his smile...

I've considered attempting to alter my speech on my own, but every time I think of doing that, I remember that we're suppposed to be in this together. I want the instruction.. I NEED the instruction. and for it to come from him. I know that doesn't make sense to some but it's the way my brain works, I suppose. Words have a lot of meaning for me. I used to be more particular about the ones I use, and I still am when I'm in mixed company, but with E I often just let my mouth run with my mind and ramble on and on and on and on. It seems to be fairly unique to him as I don't do that with anyone else really. I may ramble, but with E there's no filter. I suppose I expect him to correct me if I say something he doesn't approve of.. instead I get that... frown.

I read other submissive women's writings and I have to fight that jealousy monster again. I see where they've written about their Dominant counterparts correcting them and how frustrated they feel about it and yet they obviously appreciate it... and I just get more frustrated. The fact that I can't currently live with E is a factor, I know, but even when I'm with him alone for weekends... I dunno. Maybe I'm expecting too much. I do that often. 

Ah well. Time for me to head to class. Maybe a solution will present itself soon. 

~Surri 

I Hate Sundays

I hate feeling so out of the loop. Never spending time with anyone other than my kids and my immediate family… and every once in a while I get to see E… even more rarely do I get to see other people that I can actually have an honest conversation with about something other than my kids or my immediate family. It’s to the point where I try not to get on social media sites because it makes me so depressed.  Yes, this is a rant… sorry. It needs to get out.  Everyone’s talking about how much fun they had here or what so and so did there and I’m still an observer and a distant one at that. For a while I felt like I was a part of it, at least minimally, but now? I’m watching through binoculars. I’m the kid in the corner crying ‘cause she didn’t get picked, pouting because nobody talks to her, whining because everyone else is in their own little groups and she’s not allowed to join. I get to visit. It’s frustrating and it hurts. It’s no one’s fault, but that doesn’t make it any less difficult. 

I seem to have had this problem wherever I go. I never feel… included, even when I strive to be or even when I try to create a “group” of my own versus joining one. Not at school, not when I was working, not at church… but I feel like I could be, here, but I just… can’t. I can’t make it to community functions, I can’t get online for TRC chats, ACES is a rare and special thing… It’s either a time that I don’t have free, too expensive to go, or it’s just too far away. or all of the above. I hate that I’m sitting here whining about it, but maybe if I get this out I’ll find a way to fix it or get over it. I feel like I’m screaming “poor pitiful me” while I know life could be so much worse… but this just won’t go away.  I wish I knew a solution. Maybe someone else has one.

In this house…

There is no respect for any of my decisions in this house.  Today everyone here has belittled me and/or rebelled against me. My mother has treated me much disregard. My children have ignored my instruction to the point of open defiance, forcing me to discipline them, which eventually brought them to tears, which infuriate my father who actually had the audacity to question if I knew any other method of getting my children to do anything other than spanking them. 

He who spanked me until I was 14. He who broke the paddle on my butt. He who repeatedly used the OH so despised line “This hurts you more than it hurts me.” He who spanked me for voicing my opinion, claiming it was “talking back”. He who took belt, switch, and paddle to me for the tone of my voice or a C in math class. This man DARES to ask me if I know no better way to control my children than to spank them.

I am rebuked for raising my voice to my children, yet he does so both to them and to me. I am preached to about how time outs don’t work time and time again when I choose that method of discipline. He asks me repeatedly if I enjoy hearing my children cry. They’re almost 4 and 5. They’re going to cry some. Over and over again I am made to feel like I am a horrible mother… in THIS house.  And yet, at church I am praised for how I handle my children. E’s mom has humbled me more than once by saying I am a wonderful mother. Even my ex-husband praises my parenting. When I’m out of this house, I can almost believe them, but, when your own parents so disdain you, it makes it difficult to believe. 

Sometimes I feel as if this house is consuming me. Every episode of this evident display of scorn, trapping me a bit more, more firmly ensuring my position here… Sometimes I feel like Cinderella. 

“Do the laundry. Make the dinner, but do it MY way. Sweep the floors. You missed some here. Take out the garbage. Wash my car. It’s streaky; do it again. Beat the rugs. NO, like this. Where’s your dad’s other sock? Dust the furniture. There’s dust on the floor, sweep it up. That couch is too far to the right, move it back. Mop the floors. You put the chair back in the wrong place, fix it. Hang the clothes, no not that way. That shirt’s backwards. These pants are on the wrong hanger. This shirt is wrinkled; did you leave the clothes in the dryer again? YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER.” All still circling in my head. Never good enough.

I still have the time my mother made me scrub the bathroom floor with a toothbrush vivid in my memory… and I’m still waiting for it to happen again. I’m 25 years old and my parents alternately treat me like a troublesome preteen, a lack wit servant, and an utter failure and disappointment. Ever so rare is the shining jewel of a grudging compliment… usually on my food. My mother has even deigned to call me a whore simply because I’m fond of high heels.  

If I decide to pursue school again, I am told that I don’t give it my all and that I should try harder. If I decide to not to pursue school again, then I’m told that I’ll never make it in life. I’m repeatedly told that I’m lazy and selfish and sometimes I just want to evolve into the doormat they attempt to make me, but I know how that ends. 

Six years ago I made a foolish attempt at marriage to escape this, and yet found the same, but worse, in the man that I had chosen to marry. I divorced him so that my children could grow up without seeing their mother put down every day. I divorced him to spare them the anger and the violence in their father’s derision of me. I fled so I could stop being the doormat, and yet here I am again. 

If I leave this house, my parents’ financial support stops. They’ve made that clear. I have no job. No degree. Little in the way of income from child support and I know of no other relatives that would take my children and myself in. My mother has come to recognize that their behavior is affecting my children and has done a bit better, but my dad refuses to admit that he has anger issues. He rejects the idea that there are other ways than his that are affective. 

I don’t know how to alter this situation. Some days are actually nice. Some months are actually pleasant… and then I do something to set things off again… either that or they can no longer ignore my blatant incompetence. I try to keep the kids shielded from it as best I can and they seem to only know that Grampa is angry and shouts a lot. I didn’t want this for them. I didn’t want this for me. Acknowledging that I’ll never make my parents proud is hard enough without my children having to witness their grandparents’ disappointment in me. 

I count the days and the pennies now…  Two years. Just two more years. Please GOD just two more years until we can escape this house, finances right now just won’t allow it… hopefully by the time my son is in kindergarten that won’t be so. 

P.S.: Yes, I know this is a rant, but I had to get this out and just leaving it in a Word document on my computer didn't seem like it was enough.

"Good Girl": Those Two Words

Recently a friend of mine wrote a piece on how hearing “good girl” from her partner (not necessarily Dominant in this case) caused her to endure something that she didn't want to do because she wanted to do it…. Yes, I know it sounds confusing at first, but after a bit of thought it makes sense. I sat for a while wondering if I should comment.. If her writing meant enough to me to want to applaud it, and I decided not to. Partly because it didn't align with me well. It moved me, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it here, but hearing those two words isn't just a motivator to get me to do what E wants me to do. It isn't just a guide to help me get through something that I might not have been able to handle otherwise. Those two words are the goal at the end of my day. I know life is different for everyone and I’m glad that she has found some importance in this phrase, but it’s so much more to me than an enabler.

I haven’t heard those two words in too long now. I can’t remember how long it’s been.  A week? Two? Who knows, but I ache for them… It is this that seems to have kept me from being able to reply to her post.  I don’t feel that I’ve deserved them lately either.  I’ve been moody and whiney and have resisted doing things that I know I should do.. some even that he’s instructed me to do. And I haven’t always told him about it either…

 I have so many facets that it’s hard for me to keep up with what side of me is up today…  Is today the brat? The rope bunny? The toy? The wicked little sadomasochist? The service sub? The pet? The little girl? They’re all a part of me and often work together, but sometimes one portion of my submission needs more than the others. I don’t know why, it may be due to other aspects of my life, it may just be due to my mindset, but I’m feeling a little lost in them right now and I feel like I need to pick one for now. Find one that suits this melancholy and irritated self that I’ve been.

I feel like I’m so much work… so much trouble. My shifty attitude, my baggage, my complications, my apparently rollercoaster emotions.  What I feel I need is so ever shifting how can I expect anyone to keep up? But it seems E does. He manages my fits and works with my complications. He accepts all my baggage and helps me sort through it. He takes my attitude in stride and adjusts it should he need to... at least most of the time. He does so well, that I often feel lost when I can’t lean on him.

I rely on him for so much. The positive reinforcement of “good girl” is my cue that it’s ok to rely on him for all that. That what I’m doing is what he needs, just as much as what he does is what I need… without it, I feel like I’m not doing my job… Those two words are the ruler against which I measure myself.

Now, I’m not sure why I haven’t heard them lately. It may very well be that he’s using other words to attempt some variety... or that he’s just not thought of it… It may be that he’s said them, but my current state has rejected them… or that he is actually displeased with me for something or another, but I miss them. I need to hear these words. I may totally break down when I do hear them again, and E will once again pick up my pieces, but I need it. I need to be his good girl again, whatever else I may be.

I’m sorry for the disjointedness of this post, but I felt that I had to get this out somewhere and that if I took the time to edit it, I wouldn’t post it. I dunno. Maybe I’m looking for problems where there aren’t any, but, to borrow a phrase from Madeline’s Ms. Clavel, “Something is not right!” 

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

February's Poems

masterpieced


Sacred Silence bleeds like ink
inching out from spattered blots
black across the paper of my mind
moving over every crevice, slowly
saturating thirsty wrinkled parchment
presenting a still, acquitted form
for you, waiting, for You
to augment,
asking inspiration.
in technicolor brilliance, words bloom
bursting onto pages of thought in rich lines
licking pain across my skin
stunning colors steal the black
breaking silence, Sacred Snap
soaking my mind with vibrant hues
holding insight paramount
pinned beneath what is your pen,
until the still, acquitted me
measures into what you see;
masterpieced by You.


© surrina booke 2012




Allocations


the freedom from his permission
to slide hands o'er his skin
to relish the textures ‘neath fingertip
press my lips to warm flesh
lose myself in simple sensation
of skin on skin with soft sigh
of bliss


the allowance from his sanction
to seek his kiss
to be brought to utter capitulation
from mere brush of lip ‘gainst lip
share his breath moments before mouths
meet and know just how wholly i
am his


the liberation from his assent
to be at his feet
wrap myself around his leg
secure and safe, my head upon his knee
leave myself there as i part
where i most want
to be


© surrina booke 2012




beseeching


oh, give me something to do for you
to ease you, to aid you
limited reach that i have
service that i bring to you
my self is all that i am
may i help in some small way?


what difference can i make?
what of this can i take?
to ease you, to aid you
in giving for your sake
outstretched hands, pleading heart
i’m helpless in this state


please, give me something to do for you
sum your burdens from great to few
gather all and steal away
to ease you, to aid you
lift millstone from your neck
i’d gladly bear the weight


but you are there and i am here
and idle hands must wait, i fear
to know the joy of work for you
and comfort, hold you near
troubles, yours i cannot share
wait still, unfolded heart


© surrina booke 2012



Vanilla Chains


Tonight I cry for him
Slow tears in staggered moments
That come with the futility of being idle
As I sit in the corner of my mundane cage
Helpless to help him
Seeing his struggles
Knowing his hurt
And unable to reach
Streaked cheeks press against the bars of my prison
Though I strain toward him
I gain no brush on fingertip
I am trapped
Incarcerated
By these vanilla chains and rails
This bondage I like not.


© surrina booke 2012



Keeper


lead me with your firmest grip
teach me with strong mind
bend me with your steadfast will
guide me as I grow
place each step along the path
with your solid word
but when you Know me, Keeper, mine,
Know me with Your Soul


© surrina booke 2012

damnable rain

    rain, well it depends on what kind of rain, but days like today? the drizzly almost miserable kind? make me twitchy. usually one of the few times i'm actually on edge. i can't be still. very little satisfies me. my mind bounces around the confines of my skull and i don't finish most of what i start. i think too much and do too little and, in thinking, i want.
    today i've closed my eyes a hundred thousand times and relived snapshots from yesterday. of his hand on my throat making me drift. of his voice in my ear telling me exactly what i am to him. of the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. of the pleasure in his voice as i cry out with the delicious pain he brings me. and his taste. mmm the gift of his cum. (oh, i know, it sounds corny, but it's how i feel.) sometimes i've closed my eyes and let myself remember and found myself responding all over again though there's no pain to greet the arch of my back and the lift of my ass, no flesh to meet the press of my lips or the sweep of my tongue. it sends my mind off whirring, trying the ways to get that taste on my tongue again.
    it makes me want to scream in frustration and pull my hair.. but i'd like that too much. instead i've wandered the house doing bits of this and that and chewed my lips. as if every movement isn't a reminder. i'm to the point that i can feel the aching throb of my pulse in my tender swollen pussy... and writing that didn't help either.
    i'm glad i'm not with him today. we haven't known each other long enough for me to be comfortable being this way with him. i open myself with almost no reservation when i'm with him, i can't seem to help it,  and, were i to do that now, i'd be... wild, unable to control myself, and completely too aggressive. i usually find my submission in peace and pain and an easy giving, but today it would have to be a fight. and oh how i'd relish it. damn the bruises and the marks...who cares if i'd hurt to the point of barely moving after? i'd give just to see how much i could take.... as it is now i pace the confines of my vanilla cage and gnaw at my wrist hoping my teeth don't leave marks too noticeable...