Watching the Wheels

“Watching the Wheels” is one of my favorite songs of all time.

John Lennon died on my eight birthday. I always felt a kinship…a responsibility to remember him because we share a day.  And to me, this is one of his best.

I find this song appropriate as I prepare for my day tomorrow. A few posts back I wrote about a reader who reached out to me as Maestro and I were about to watch Exodus. Her message struck a chord with me as we are on a similar journey…both of us seeking God and enlightenment in our D/s relationships. And tomorrow, I will have the opportunity to meet this lovely woman.

As serendipity would have it, she is visiting a nearby state and is willing to make the drive here to meet me. I have to admit, I am a bit nervous. Yes, I know….I’ve done things far scarier than this that involve a variety of gentlemen and a variety of scenarios. But this is a different kind of nervous. After all, outside of a handful of friends and close acquaintances, no one knows my real identity. On the blog, I am anonymous…equipped with a laptop and a pseudonym.  I can express my thoughts freely.

And tomorrow, I will sit face to face with a reader (who I might add is also sharing her identity) to discuss this tumultuous journey of mine. To discuss the experiences within her journey (hers is a bit different, as she is exploring D/s in her established marriage). To discuss where we find God in all of this. How we seek solace in the guidance and direction of our partners and ultimately in The Almighty.

I am excited to meet my new friend.  I am eager to hear about her journey.  I hope that we are able to glean much from each other’s experiences.  It will be refreshing to talk with someone who sees the dynamic in a similar light as I do.

 

So I leave you with this…

People say I’m crazy, doing what I’m doing
Well they give me all kinds of warnings, to save me from ruin
When I say that I’m okay, well they look at me kinda strange
“Surely, you’re not happy now, you no longer play the game”

Faith

What is faith anyway?

I am not speaking from a religious place, but rather a spiritual place.

So faith…what is it?

Using traditional religion as an example, isn’t faith defined as believing in something but having no tangible proof of its existence?

The skeptic in me always wants proof.  Always wants to see the data.

Always wants to…

Over-analyze

Over-think

Question

Doubt

That is just my nature.

Optimists see the glass half-full.  Pessimists see it half-empty.  Realists see it as a half a glass of water.

And the skeptics…We say, “I don’t even know if that’s really water.”

So how does this skeptic learn to believe?

Maestro and I were talking last night and he brought up my post from yesterday, The Struggle.  He said He sensed some anxiety from me after reading it.  That maybe I was skeptical of this beautiful thing we have together.

His response to that skeptical line of thought….

To continue being Himself.

To continue to believe in what we have.  To have faith in us.

I was taken in by this rationale.

He continued, “I know what we have.  I have no doubt that you are the person I want to grow old with, that you are the one person for me.  I know it.  I believe in it.  I am willing to put the effort into this.  To not give up.  To be whatever you need.  To give you the space to process when you feel skeptical.  I am not going anywhere.  Do you know why?  Because, I love you.  But most importantly, I believe in us.”

I was silent.  Overcome with emotion.

At that moment…at that very moment Maestro taught me the concept of faith.  Through all of my years in Sunday school.  All of my years of believing in God and Jesus and Santa Claus, I never fully understood what it meant to have faith.

Now I get it.

And here’s what I gleaned from our conversation.

I believe in us too.

And Maestro is teaching me, guiding me back on the path to spiritual enlightenment.  He is bringing me to this new place in me that I am learning to call home.

For now, our home isn’t a tangible place.  It’s our faith in who we are together.

Put a Spell on You…

Spell

Intoxicated

Drunken

Taken in by this enigma

It is Him

He who permeates every thought and desire

Who has worked his dark magic

Making me long for Him

As I lie here

Waiting for Him

To play me

Anticipating the sweet music

As He,

The Maestro

Conducts the orchestra that is

My Body

My Heart

My Mind

My Soul

All in sync together

I am under His direction

Under His spell

 

The Sub-Whisperer

We were having such a lovely evening together.

Such connection.

I am a hater…let’s read that again, HATER, of public displays of affection.

I always find a way to avoid it.

No hand-holding…I’ll pretend to fidget with something in my purse to keep my hands occupied.

No hugging or embracing…I will fake a coughing fit that could bring medical personnel from a two-mile radius to avoid this in public

And no kissing…I will keep coughing if needed, but I may throw in a fake phone call for good measure.

But this time, when He reached for my hand I didn’t fidget.

I let go of me and all of my weird quirks and grabbed His hand.

His big strong hand.

And yes the PDA was slightly uncomfortable at first, but I quickly acclimated.

We did it all…out in the open.  Hugging, kissing and hand holding.

Dinner was perfect.  He is a natural gentleman, pulling out my chair when we arrived at the table.  The server was impressed and forgot herself when she said out loud, “Awwww. Real chivalry.  Sweet!”

We noshed off of each other’s plates as if we had been together for years.  The conversation and the energy was so intense, we made the server a bit uncomfortable.  We could tell she was afraid to interrupt us to ask if we needed anything.

After dinner we talked.  And talked.  And talked.  We were never without something to say to each other.

We arrived back at his room and we laid across the bed and talked.  And talked.

Did I mention that he drove SEVEN hours (VII in Roman numerals) to see me.

Yes, SEVEN hours one way.

We began kissing and it was amazing.  The closeness.  The intensity.  The undeniable depth.

He was in no hurry to move to anything more.  We just laid there and kissed.  And talked.

Each kiss drew me in deeper.  I knew this was different.,,what I was feeling was different.

He was different.  I could be myself around Him.

Just me…

He whispered in my ear, “You please me…I love how you respond to my kiss…to my touch.  Now, I would like for you to take your dress off.”

Without thought.  Without trepidation, I removed my dress.

I had no inhibition.  None of the usual body-anxiety that I typically feel when undressing in front of someone for the first time.

I confidently stood in front of him.

Completely naked.

And he was still fully dressed.

He sat there and just took me in.  Looking at every square inch of my body.  Touching me as he carefully studied each curve, each bend, each edge, each blemish on my skin.

Even the scars.

Even the stretch marks, remnants from three children.

Again…I had no reservation.  I felt comfortable.

I felt beautiful.

And for once, I truly felt at peace in the moment.

I reflected on what was happening as it happened.  It was almost as if I stepped out of the moment to observe the moment.

And during this reflection, I began to think of Him like a horse whisperer.

He had a way of taming me…but not breaking me.

He knew how to speak my language.  He knew how to make me comfortable and at ease.

He also knew my issues with trust.  My instinct to run.

But I chose not to…not this time.

I was steadfast and still

But without a bridle.

Not saddled.

Not tied.

Not whipped.

I was free to go.  Free to roam.

But I wanted to stay.  I wanted to be in His presence.

I craved his touch.  His kiss.

His approval.

The evening carried on and he continued to explore every part of me.  His attention to detail was beyond overwhelming.  He knew how to bring me over the edge in ways I had not experienced.

And he relished in doing so.

Over and over.

And over.  And over.

He was completely focused on figuring me out from the inside out.  His pleasure was in seeing me (and hearing me…my God I was sooo loud) enjoy Him.

His focus went on for hours.

He would whisper in my ear, stroke my hair.

Clutch my throat.

And make my body shake uncontrollably with pleasure.

Sublime in His style of dominance.

And knowing how I craved His touch, He saw fit to give me a proper spanking.

Knowing just how I wanted it.

This time, I am shameless…

Shameless to admit to you and everyone, that I have fallen.

I am under the spell of this “sub-whisperer”

Finally understanding that what I have been missing is Him.

And as I spend more time with this man…this gift, I realize more and more that what I seek from my journey is more than kink.  More than a scene.

I want the full dynamic.

The 24/7.

The mundane and the erotic.

The vanilla and the kink.

The public displays of affection.

And of course…

The whispers.

His whispers…

“Faith requires following the power of a whisper.”Shannon Alder

“You know I can’t let you slide through my hands”

Shine On…

This is one of my favorite Pink Floyd songs…

And in my humble opinion, her cover does it justice.

“Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.”

Aren’t we all exposed in the light?

Take a minute and listen to this…it IS worth your time.

SHINE ON…

The Runner

You know…I think I will break tradition and write about someone different.

No gentlemen callers.

No Dom prodigies

No gangsters, outlaws, or coaches…

Today’s post is about a runner.

When I think of a runner, I think of someone disciplined.  Devoted to their sport.

Most runners are over-achievers, perfectionists. type-A personalities.

Many have established running routines.  They rarely miss a day.  They are driven by their need to run.

Although unorthodox in her methodology, this runner is no different.

She rarely misses the opportunity to run.

She’s a sprinter.  Able to run extremely fast for short spurts of time, to get ahead of the pack.  Leaving others far behind.

She’s a distance runner.  Able to run for long distances and for long periods of time…always ensuring that no one is too close to her lead.

She’s a cross-country/all terrain runner.  Able to run wherever she needs to.  Regardless of the environment, no matter how rocky, unstable, uncertain…she finds a way to run through it.

Her resolve is relentless.

But unlike the runners who run for sport, this runner is compelled.  She is addicted to the run.

For her it is an escape.

You are probably thinking…most runners do run for an escape, a break from their daily existence.

She runs to escape the things she fears most…

Not a monster…real or imaginary.

Not a person.

Not her past.

She runs to escape her future.  

She runs from what could be…

She runs from the things she perceives to be “too good to be true”

She runs from the people that make her feel something on a deeper level.

She runs from the beautiful possibility of true and everlasting love.

She runs and runs and runs.

Never looking back….

But never in sight of the finish line…

As there is none.

There is no victory in her race.  

In order to win, she must first lose

Lose control…

Lose herself in another.

To do so, she must slow down…

She must stop running.

And as I write this, she prepares for yet another run…

Her eyes locked in a gaze straight ahead

Sprinting to gain the lead….

Afraid to see what was beside her.

And I ran, I ran so far away
I just ran, I ran all night and day
I couldn’t get away