Pitfalls and Progress in Switching

So the last few days have been a bit difficult. I’ve lamented about the lack of time and the odd disjointedness of my wife and I experimenting with switching. But there have been some added wrinkles, the last few times we’ve played:

1) My wife does not give off the vibes that she wants to submit at all. Oh, when we’re in the car or chatting about it, it’s her big dream. But my attempts at suggesting dirty things tend to result in gentle snark rather than swoons. When I try to start a scene, the timing’s wrong or she’s tired, and I get a boatload of attitude that kills the mood. Outside of our first scene together, the switch has been a big letdown.

She has even described herself as “insolent,” and “the worst submissive ever.” But at the same time, she insists this is what she wants.

2) The last three times we played, she couldn’t orgasm. And believe me, we were both trying. The end result of this is that she’s gotten more frustrated and harder to bring to orgasm, the stress has piled up, and she’s gotten even more frustrated in a cascading reaction that has made her even more sullen when we try to play.

So, not such a good beginning to my new life as a dominant. Until last night…

The Switch That Was

(For a bit of history, see The Switch That Wasn’t.)

So, we did it.

I’m still kind of reeling, because you wouldn’t think the simple act of switching from submissive to dominant — and vice-versa — would upset the apple-cart so much. But it has. Not in a bad way, but in a new, I-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on way…

Broken In A Different Way

I’m a little frustrated with the sex life.

Our dirty little rendezvous over the last few months have been fulfilling. We usually alone for a weekend, in a hotel, and we take the time to have her beat the shit out of me and dominate me. It’s nice. It’s fun. We’re playing most of the weekend. Even when our kid’s around, we can cut off time while she’s napping or in bed….

Not Broken At All…

First: a caveat. I’m writing this on somebody else’s keyboard, which means that my fingers are unused to the particular subtleties of this computer. If a few misspellings appear, it’s not necessarily my fault.

I got into town on Friday, and between my plane being delayed and various mishaps at the airport, I didn’t arrive until 1 am. My wife picked me up, and by the time we got my bags off of the baggage claim and back to the 4-star hotel she’d gotten us a room at, it was about 1:30 or 2…

Whiny Bitchy Submissive Complaints

I’ve been working my ass off for two weeks, and it looks like I’m still going to have to take work home with me when I see my wife and kid. My daughter has pink-eye, and now — as fate would have it — my wife is coming down with laryngitis and not feeling good. Sounds like the flu, which is to be expected, given her job and the presence of a three-year old in the house.

Stress + Looking for Release – Wife Being Healthy = Me, Frustrated as Hell…

Minor Housekeeping…

I just updated my Blogroll — I realized half of the blogs on there pointed to old addresses, and the list of blogs I’ve read has grown by about a factor of 3 since I started dipping my finger into online blogging. If you don’t see your blog listed and you know or suspect I read it — and I probably do — send me an email or comment, because when I made the switch from PC to Mac a month ago I lost my “Big List of Blogs I Read” and have only been rebuilding it bit by bit since. (The BDSM blogging community, for the record, has got to be one of the best resources for people starting out. It’s much less “imposing” than forums or the real thing.) I have something like 25 blogs listed in my Mail program’s RSS feed at this point, although some of them haven’t been updated in a while, and if you have or know of any blogs you think I should read, given my circumstances, feel free to recommend them.

I’ve also changed the layout of the blog to a three-column design template they have here at WordPress, feel free to tell me what you think.

Yes, boring, I know. Next week I’ll have all sorts of stories to tell and musings on my life as a good little slave.

Emotionally Unequipped Part II

I talked to the wife today about my blog after she read it. She was…I don’t want to say upset, but seemed off-balance by it. The first words out of her mouth were:

Emotionally Unequipped

I’m used to feeling an urge to be submissive. I’ve felt a submissive instinct all my life, that I can remember, even before puberty. I have this hardwired instinct to find a woman who’s worthy of my sacrifice — the sacrifice of my will, my self — and give it to her. To be her toy. Her tool. Her slave.

I get a thrill just thinking of that. Not speaking. Standing. Waiting. Hoping she’ll give me an order, hoping she’ll command me and then praise me for obeying.

But there’s a new urge in my head, in my heart. And it’s the urge to be hurt. But the problem is, being hurt is passive. I can’t hurt myself. (I know it’s possible, but that’s not what I’m feeling.) Being submissive is a state of mind. You get yourself there. But to be an object of somebody’s aggression, to be the recipient of blows from a hand or a belt or a crop — it takes two. It takes her, to hit me, and me, to receive the blows….

Scary Surprises.

I have no idea what awaits me this weekend.

Normally, I worry about “topping from the bottom,” if I understand the concept right. My wife’s complained — “It’s not very submissive if you tell me what you want and then I do it.” She worries about the power-exchange getting all mixed up. Given that it’s our first few months into this, I feel like communication is essential — “I’d love it if we could get the strap-on out early, because you get into dominant-mode extra well with it.” “I’d love a golden shower.” You know, I feel like I’m being a good sub by laying my wants on the table….

Thank you, BDSM

I’ve occasionally talked about my vanilla days, but I haven’t really talked about my wife’s vanilla days.

If you’re reading this blog, you probably think my wife is some insatiable sex-goddess who can pound my ass for hours, then beat me, then have me satisfy her, then beat me some more, then have me satisfy her some more, wash, rinse, repeat. And, frankly, that’s kinda true. I remember during our first session involving the 5 Ps. She’d had sex with me, pissed on me, bathed me, then collared me for the first time, fucked me in my ass for the first time after forcing me to fellate her cock, then forced me to go down on her while she was still wearing the strap-on, then rode me while I was in shackles until I came, then forced me to eat my own cream-pie. Laying there, physically exhausted in her arms, I sighed as she held me. Then she turned to me and said, “I’m ready for the next round.” I groaned. Never before in our 12 years of marriage had she ever hit my limits. I begged for ten minutes to rest. An erection was a remote mountaintop, unreachable without a long journey — and I wanted a nap before I attempted it.

She grabbed my cock, squeezing it, causing me to writhe, and said, “If you don’t give it up, I will take it. Do you understand?” My cock started to harden, because being taken by my Mistress is hot.

But that’s not the wife I was used to…