Mission Statement

 The following is an attempt to put into writing what I want to be and to have. My ideal self and relationship. This is obviously subject to change and review.

Self
Aware of what I want, and able to pursue it without fear or self-doubt.

Possessing a confidence based on proven skill and success.

Empathetic, compassionate and understanding. Expressing this towards myself and others.

Committed to everything I do, in particular a program of self-improvement.

Firm, consistent and assertive. Dedicated to the nurturing and development of those who serve me.

Honest, accountable and responsible.

Relationship

Stable, structured, orderly. A sanctuary from the uncertainty of the world outside.

Featuring play and excellent sex, and adventure in and beyond the bedroom.

Featuring on-going development of service and training, both individually and as a couple.

Designed to bring out the best in both of us, and providing support for achieving life goals.

Based on mutual honesty, openness and respect.

Expressed through physical and verbal affection.

Changes, pt. 2

So here I am, a little later.

I laid out the plan last time, and I'm sticking to it. It's a program of study and self-improvement. I know I can't expect results too quickly, and I shouldn't beat myself up for not making rapid progress, or for experiencing setbacks. Practicing acceptance and self-compassion is a skill I'm trying to learn, I view it as fundamental to everything I'm trying to do, and the literature agrees with me.

But it's hard. And it's hard because I'm still terrified of failing. Because of everything that would mean. I know I need to separate having feelings that are bad from feeling that I *am* bad, and sometimes I can even manage it, for a few moments.

But I can't shake the feeling right now. That this trouble we find ourselves in is my fault. If I were a better dom, if I were a better husband, if I were a better person, if I were not **me**...it wouldn't be necessary.

So here I am, a little later, pushing forward. In the dark. Unsure of where this path will lead me, and afraid of losing the things I care about in order to follow it.

I have to have faith that everything will work out, that whatever happens it's going to be ok. That's not a feeling I'm used to cultivating. One more thing to learn, I guess.

Objectively, I know I'm making progress, and that it's ok to doubt. I'm just scared it's not going to be enough. Not going to be in time.

Accept the feelings, observe them, and keep moving. Put a name to your anxieties, understand where they come from, break them into smaller parts, and take action.

I need to remember that. I just wish it were easier to know what the right action was.

Changes

I'm trying to change.
I have a whole lot of things that I need to be working on.

Anxiety. Poor self-esteem. A lack of emotional intelligence. Difficulties communicating. These things have been a significant millstone around my neck, preventing me from being who I want to be,
A good husband. A good dom. A good friend. A good worker. A good person.

I have lofty ambitions, but I've never been in a place where I could reach them.

I'm changing that. I'm working on a detailed, structured, disciplined method to change the things that I need to change. It's a multi-disciplinary approach.

I'm undergoing a regime of cognitive-behavioural therapy (the other CBT). I'm studying mindfulness-based meditation. I'm working through several highly-regarded self-help books. I'm trying to be more pro-active with my friendships and ambitious in my career.
I'm trying to embrace the things that scare me.

That's not easy. Scary things are, well, scary.

I'm opening my relationship, to a degree, because we've been unhealthily enmeshed for a long time. I'm trying to meet new people and make new friends. I'm accepting that things might not work out, and that failure in one thing does not invalidate my life, or me as a person. I'm developing a taste for adventure and risk that I haven't had for a long time.

I'm re-writing the entire story of my life, and re-wiring my brain as I go.

And there's a long, long way to go.

But you know what? It's working. It's working slowly, but it's working. I'm happier. I'm more confident. I'm feeling the weight that I placed on my own shoulders slowly lift off. My marriage feels stronger already, which is slightly paradoxical given that we've taken a step back from one another, but seems nonetheless to be true.

I always assumed that "if you don't love yourself, no one can really love you" was a bullshit truism. It's not. It really is true. I wouldn't say I love myself, not yet. But I'm working towards it, and that feels good.

Guess I don't know everything, huh?

Sharing is Caring

I'm not sure where to start this post.

Does it start on Friday, when I lost a close work colleague?

Does it start on the Friday before, when I slipped back into bad habits and rose paid the price for it?

Does it start at the beginning of our relationship, when we laid patterns that have proven dangerous and hard to break through?

Does it start in childhood, when I learned that the only appropriate reaction to negative emotions was silence and repression?

I think the place to start is last Friday. It makes the most sense to me. Last Friday, I did something extremely foolish. After a miscommunication between rose and I lead to some hurt feelings, I handled things poorly and made things worse. Rather than reaching out, confronting the issue and clearing the air between us, I let things fester. I made the mistake of assuming that things would go away on their own, as if relationships are things that don't require any communication or occasionally facing up to things which are wrong or having awkward conversations.

Basically, I shut out reality-reality in favour of in-my-own-head-reality, because that was more comfortable at the time. Feelings were making me uncomfortable, and rather than reach for support from a woman I know has only my best interests at heart and would do anything to help me, I shut off completely.

I know that doing this is wrong, and counter-productive to my goal of having the best possible relationship I can. I know that, intellectually. But I don't always live that understanding, and there are a lot of reasons that might underlie that.

I was bullied a lot as a child. I stood out as a target, being bigger (but slower and clumsier) than the other kids my age. Having an English accent in an Australian school. Having trouble controlling my emotions, going into hysterical tears or raging anger at the drop of a hat. Of course, when I did inevitably lose my temper and lash out, all the people see is the bigger kid throwing his weight around and hurting people. To a degree, it's fair that I got in trouble - I was a big kid who didn't know his own strength, and I was lucky not to have seriously hurt someone- but it taught some bad lessons.

That emotions need to be repressed in order to avoid danger. That feelings cause trouble, and are therefore something to be feared and mistrusted. That I should be ashamed of these things which make me lose control of myself.  Don't listen to them, don't let them control you. Don't let feelings control your behaviour, just hide until they go away. Escape. Avoid.

These are useful tools for a child struggling with a bullying problem, but these tools were all I really had for a long time. Recall that saying about everything looking like a nail when all you have is a hammer. This avoidance of negative feelings or situations that might cause them is my hammer.

Flash forward to a young WW with a new girlfriend. He's head over heels for this girl in ways that he's never experienced before. They're in a relationship that, in terms of intensity and commitment is new to both of them. They're both in unfamiliar waters, and both bringing their own baggage to their relationship. Inevitably, something goes wrong, they fight, they hurt each other. The relationship comes into question, to the point where one or both of them are nearly prepared to call it quits.

There's hurt. There's fear of loss But it;s early days, they're young, they get over it, they get back together and get things back on track. Both sides learn a lesson.

For one of us, though, it reinforces something we've always learned. Feelings cause pain.. They should be avoided where possible, and ignored where avoiding them is not possible. My pain is temporary, and I can take it if it means sparing rose some discomfort. Rationalise away the bad feelings, and they're no longer there.

Flash back to last Friday. Both of these factors play into my decision to avoid the conversation that absolutely needs to happen, but promises to be uncomfortable. To hide in a video game, rather than share my feelings and fears with someone who loves me. To let rose go to bed feeling abandoned and disappointed. To run away to Melbourne for two days rather than stay and tough things out. Sadly, it;s not the first time I've made that decision, either.

It went about as well as you might expect a decision like that to go. We've patched things up, we've moved forward, we've taken steps to avoid this ever coming around again.  Regular check-ins, continuing my therapy, more documenting my emotions in the moment and a commitment to improving my all-over emotional health are all a part of that.

Flash forward to this weekend. On Friday I lost a friend and colleague to a traffic accident. I'm not used to dealing with grief. I've never really lost anyone I've been close to- relatives have passed on, but they were old and had been sick, and were living on other continents. It's expected, and the impact is diffused by the distance. Losing someone suddenly, and someone who I saw almost every day is a new experience. Not only that, but his death has put a serious dent in career plans that had only just begun to take shape after a long, long period of uncertainty.

My feelings have been a bit all over the place.

But I could share them, suddenly. Even though the conversation made me emotional, it left me feeling better. I didn't have to be afraid or ashamed. And it made me feel better.

That's a positive step, and that's my lesson for today.

Worry Wart

I'm an anxious person.

I am, there, I said it, I can't take it back.

I worry a lot. Compulsively. I've had panic attacks in the past, and tend towards catastrophic thoughts. When I start to get negative, things can spiral rapidly out of control. I'm pessimistic. I'm cynical. I tend to focus on what can go wrong, rather than what can go right. Threats, not opportunities. Costs, not benefits.

It's not completely useless.It makes me good at my job, which involves a lot of risk management and looking for possible points of failure in processes and procedures. It makes me a very safety conscious top.

But mostly, it's a negative. It holds me back, in my relationship, in my career, in my day-to-day interactions. It's exhausting. It makes me shut myself into my own head, and takes me out of the moment. It makes me afraid to go for things I want, and even the things I need.

Recently, I've been having therapy. This isn't my first foray into counselling, but it's been very different to other experiences. Previous therapists have been very emotive-based, looking at feelings and past traumas and your typical sort of cathartic stuff. Helpful in its way, but not necessarily a solution. The therapy I've been having recently is much more...direct. It's been a very practical, behavioural approach. At first, I thought it wasn't helping. It was stressful, and sessions left me feeling worse than I did when I went in.

But recently, I've been noticing how much it's been helping me. I've been much more aware, much more conscious of my thoughts and my behaviours. I've been noticing when I've been overwhelmed, or stressed, or locked into my head, and trying to push back against it.

It hasn't always worked. That's ok. Nothing's perfect. But, slowly, I'm improving, or at least getting better control over myself.

And it's showing in my relationship. I'm happier. More confident. She calls me Master and I don't doubt or second guess it. I use her, and there isn't a nagging question in my mind about whether I deserve this. I feel like I belong where I am, more than I ever have.

I'm not perfect.

But I'm getting better.

Smut 2: The Stable

The girl could still feel the soreness around her neck, where he had dragged her by the collar. Out through the door and across the creaky veranda, barefoot across the rough gravel of the courtyard. Through the soft dirt of the woodshed, the powdery earth like sand between her toes. The squeak of the heavy metal door as it opened, the feel of his hand shoving her roughly inside. Out into the stable, empty now, but still with the lingering smell of horses and leather, earth and grass, the air warm with a late summer heat.

The girl shivered, hands bound with thick leather cuffs and tied to the rafter above her head. Naked in the warm, humid, chest heaving as she gasped to get back the breath that had been choked from her. . She could feel herself pulled tight by the ropes tugging at her arms, a burning in her calves, her buttocks, her back, her shoulders, tiptoes struggling to gain purchase on the rough, cold concrete floor. The tingle of a single bead of sweat running down her spine, making her shiver and gasp for breath again. There was an aching quiet. The girl could hear birds, softly singing, the occasional creak and groan from the old stables as the corrugated iron stretched under the rising heat of day.

The man broke the silence, his voice soft with a wicked promise. "What are you?" The girl tried to form the words, but her mouth was dry and they wouldn't come out. A choked whisper that might have been a murmured "Yours", was all the reply she could muster. It seemed to satisfy the man, who smiled and ran a large hand through her long, dark hair and down her back. It slipped off of the smooth curve of her buttock and then lashed back, landing with a heavy slap and a sudden reddening of flesh.

The girl jumped, squealing, the pain unexpected despite the anticipation that had brought her nipples to a tender, aching hardness. The man's hand returned, squeezing, digging his hard fingers into the soft meat until the girl squealed again. The man's other hand wrapped around her, covering her mouth, stifling the cry, stifling her breath, leaving the pain in her arse to fight with the burning in her lungs. That long instant, pulled taut by the rope and tormented at both ends seemed to last forever, an agonising instant stretched into a single, unending present until the hands let go. The girl slumped, gasping for breath, the rope above her all that kept her limp body on it's feet.

The man picked up the flogger, leather, heavy, soft. The girl could hear it, swishing through the air as the man loosened the strong muscles of his shoulders, his thick, muscled arms. The first blow came down across the girl's back, a solid thump of three dozen falls landing at once. The girl's knees went weak again, the pain fading from a sharp ache to a warm glow that slowly spread across her skin. The man waited, letting her absorb the feeling of that first strike before the second one lashed out. Another hard smack, another sharp ache that faded to warmth as her body soaked it in. The girl let out a sound, halfway between a moan of pain and a purr of delight. It brought a  crooked smile to the man's face.

The pace stayed slow. Each stroke allowed to fall, peak, echo around the girl's body and fade to a deep warmth. Slowly, slowly, the pace built. Now the waves started to come one on top of the next, never fading fully before the next smack arrived. The girl allowed herself to float, riding the waves of warm, delicious pain as the tide slowly rose around her and inside her. Her back slowly arched, thrusting her shoulders back, inviting each blow of the whip, welcoming it, the sensations blending until they were one, a delicious, all-embracing cocoon of pain and joy. The fire of the flogger filled her, making her moan in the still air, making her writhe against the cuffs, making her drip onto the rough concrete floor.

The fire filled the girl. A direct line seemed to transmit each blow through the girl's body straight to the throbbing between her legs. The whipping sped up, each strike a little quicker than the last, each shot against her back a little harder than the one before, each crack of the flogger echoing a little louder off of the stable walls, each wave making her cunt swell a little more. Her body soaked up the pain and turned it to pleasure, radiating outwards from her aching clit. She turned to the man, gasping "please?"

"Please what, pet?"

"....please?"

The man paused. The flogger fell. He drew the waiting out, making the girl shiver. Enjoying that moment of holding her entire world in his hand. One last blow, the hardest of them all. A slow smile.

"Now."

Smut 1: A Lesson For Bunny

As a prelude to these posts, I'd like to say that I've not written any porn for a long time. I used to do it a bit, and enjoyed it, and I thought this might be a method to get more in touch with my own inner process. So if it's good, I hope you all enjoy it, and if you don't, well, maybe the next one will be better. This particular piece comes out of a chat rose and I had on a long car ride the other day, and stuck in my head a little.

Bunny was uncomfortably aware of herself. She was uncomfortably aware of the too-high heels digging into the backs of her thighs as she knelt. She was uncomfortably aware of the silk stockings squeezing softly at her freshly shaved legs. She was uncomfortably aware of the tightness of the top around the too-large breast forms and the tightness of the lace bra holding them in place. Of the corset, squeezing her waist into its proper place. Of the slight tickle of the bunny-tail butt plug filling her still-tight hole. Of her cock, struggling to get hard against the cage inside her matching lace panties.

But most of all, Bunny was uncomfortably aware of how far she had come in her transformation. She had come to this small house in the country two days ago as her old self, shy, awkward Brendan. Brendan had been offered the chance to learn things he had always dreamed about, yet only recently been able to admit to, and she was learning more than even those dreams had shown her.

Bunny had learned so much from Miss Rose. How to walk like a girl, with a sexy sashay. How to dress to best showcase her body. How to put on make up and make herself pretty. How to cook and clean like a good maid.  But there was still so much to learn.

"Pay attention now, Bunny."

Mister Wyl's voice cut through her reverie, snapping Bunny back to the moment with a low, assertive rumble.

"You're here to learn, Bunny. So watch an expert at work."

Miss Rose was on her knees, naked in front of him. Her skin was flushed, the excited breath causing her perfect breasts to rise and fall with excitement, the nipples straining taught and hard at their tips, as she looked up to her owner.

"Here's your first lesson. See how excited rose is? See how she's practically drooling because she knows what's coming? That's the first secret. Don't just suck cock. Worship it. Love it. Admit that it's what you need."

Mister Wyl unzipped slowly, and Bunny saw Miss Rose gasp a little as his already-hard cock sprang free, bouncing off her lips. Bunny blushed hard as she realised she had gasped as well.

"I think that lesson's already sinking in", said Mister Wyl, his hand stroking through rose's hair. "Start, pet, show her what to do".

Bunny couldn't quite stifle the whisper of envy as Miss Rose's lips brushed against her Master's cock, making it twitch with pleasure. Miss Rose ran her tongue down the shaft and her lips back up it.

"Note, Bunny, how she starts slow, how she savours every moment of being allowed to worship my cock. Look at how her eyes stay up here on mine."

Mister Wyl put a hand behind her head, gripping her hair just a little, Forcing her slowly down, inch by hard inch.

"Keep watching, Bunny. Watch how she accepts it, watch how she understands her role is to bring me pleasure and nothing else."

Bunny couldn't take her eyes from the scene, at watching Miss Rose turn so easily from his instructor to her owner's willing cockslut. Bunny realised that this was who Miss Rose truly was, and whimpered with envy, wishing that she could accept it so easily.

Mister Wyl forced himself further down her throat and held himself there, choking rose with his cock. "Watch that dedication, Bunny. Gagging is nothing." He pinched  Miss Rose's nose shut, keeping her pinned in place with one hand in her hair "Being choked is nothing."

Mister Wyl held her in pace as his eyes bored into Bunny's. "Worshipping cock is everything." He let himself slide from rose's mouth, and looked down at her. "Right, pet?"

Miss Rose gasped for breath, looking up at him, the blush spreading from her face to her whole body, cunt dripping. "Yes, Master."

"Good girl", growled Mister Wyl, allowing her to take back over, melting her mouth over his cock with a practiced motion, head bobbing with her hair still in Mister Wyl's hand.

Miss Rose's hand wrapped around her Master's cock, stroking it quickly with the tip still in her mouth.

"Watch how she knows exactly how to make me cum, Bunny. And note that she can't take her mouth away, even when she's using her hand. A perfect little cock worshipper. Watch and learn." He moaned, head rolling back, breath starting to become ragged.

Bunny felt her cock fighting against it's cage, felt her breath coming faster, watching with a sort of envied awe.

"And now the last part of the lesson", groaned Mister Wyl.

His cock twitched, shooting cum in thick, white arcs. The first few spurts landed on Miss Rose's upturned, expectant face, making her moan before she swallowed her Master's cock again, taking it all the way down her throat and sucking hard.

Mister Wyl's knees trembled and he steadied himself on Miss Rose, enjoying the feel of her contented moans around his shaft. Bunny watched, eyes wide as Mister Wyl's cock slid from his pet's mouth and she cleaned it delicately with her tongue, smiling up at him. His hand stroked her hair.

"Good girl. I'm sure Bunny found that very educational, pet."

Bunny moaned and shivered, goosebumps covering her skin. She knew now exactly what she wanted to become.

And was uncomfortably aware how badly she needed that dream to become reality.