We have just been away on holiday. Fortunately there were some moments like this one but generally, it had its challenges. We hadn’t been away as a family for quite a while, but we also hadn’t been away on our own for some time either. This led to some issues and we weren’t as together as we would have liked to have been. It is always a hard call in terms of what to share on a blog. I have always wanted to give a real and true representation of how things are, but also, I don’t want to cause any disrespect to HL. It is one thing to highlight my own failings, but I am always more cautious about highlighting his. That being said, our D/s does not always run smoothly; sometimes I am not a very good sub and sometimes he is not a very good Dom. Bolognaise and a butt plug is about one of those times.
A week or so into the holiday and we were struggling a bit to connect. Lack of time and opportunity for privacy was one of the main things. In addition, our family is pretty much made up of adults now. They have their own personalities and their own way of doing things. We are also a blended family and although we all get on very well together, there are little differences in terms of how the two groups behave and respond to us. In a large group (there were 10 of us) it can be hard to be heard or seen, and I think that we weren’t quite prepared enough for how that would feel, or together enough to be able to put things in place to make sure that we still felt highly attuned to one another. At times like this, it can be hard to maintain a submissive mindset and not just slip away into my own head.
I had been reading – sexy, trashy stuff mostly, but I had managed to get my mojo back (read about it being missing here). I felt horny and had made some moves to that effect. Despite having the submissive role, HL does like to know that he is wanted and desired and sometimes likes me to initiate things – respectfully and without obligation for him to respond in the affirmative, of course. A sort of may I please suck your cock type of question usually goes down pretty well. For whatever reason, during my days of being desperate for him, he had not been in quite the same frame of mind. He was there, but he was not everywhere, if that makes sense. We had spoken about this a couple of days after when the tables had turned and I was no longer feeling quite as desperate as I had been. I am sure you can see the general tone of the post, and the dynamic during our break, starting to come out now.
As part of our discussion I had asked for more Dominance. This was in general terms, but also in specifics too. I think I had mentioned butt plugs as a way of keeping the mind focussed, and also the humiliation of the insertion and subsequent removal, which usually puts me in the right sort of space. The following day, this pretty much came back to bite me on the bum, or at least in the bum, as HL decided to apply the butt plug technique. We had been out for the day visiting a town a distance away. It was really hot and it was a large group to manage. There had been moments of together – you know those ones when you just connect and get that shift inside. But there had been others where we talked on different wavelengths, missing those vital cues.
Suffice to say when he had first mentioned the plug the mood was good. Unfortunately by the time it came to apply it, things had sadly moved on. The journey home had taken longer than expected, but dinner was still expected. A nice bolognaise for 10 was on the menu. So as we entered the villa, that was on my mind. Not on his it seemed. Operation butt plug was underway and I was instructed to go forthwith and ready myself over a chair in the bedroom, dress pulled up.
“What now? I have to get the bolognaise on as it takes three hours in the oven to get a rich sauce?”
“Yes now. Other people manage to cook on the hob in less time so I am sure it will be ok just this once.”
Now I have to say that I did go and ready myself, but in my mind I was thinking that actually most of Italy did cook their sauce for 3 hours slowly and lovingly in the oven, and that the sort of thin sauce that some people produced was not the standard that I aspired to. I know. Not a submissive mindset at all. Where was pleasing him in this equation? The fact that I had a whole country behind me seemed to give me attitude which should have been corrected, but my brattiness was internalised. I didn’t say anything wrong, but neither did I say anything right. And with only 7% of communication coming from the actual words, I am sure that the way I was feeling did come across. If you want words, indignant but resigned would be the ones at this point.
So over the chair I went, and up went my dress. The plug was inserted and I think that he probably said something to try to take back the control that my body language and huffing and puffing was challenging. That should have been the end to it, but it would take more than a butt plug to harness the diva I was becoming. I was going to make my point the submissive way. God I am hating even writing this post. I despise my little pseudo-alpha-self sometimes. He had used lube – this wasn’t a punishment after all, although it might have taught me more of a lesson in manners and mindset if it had been! He set a timer on his watch and said that he would help me make dinner but would ask me to lift my dress in the kitchen so that he could check on me from time to time.
The words at this point are challenge and power struggle, in case that wasn’t clear. I reminded him of the time, and the fact that the sexy dress with no knicker combo would need to be replaced with mosquito protective armour, as is my standard evening attire when en-vacation somewhere hot. I don’t like this as I swelter in the heat, but needs must as an allergic reaction to the little blighters leaves me looking like the elephant man and in quite a bit of discomfort, ultimately not sexy. So that was piece of information number two which altered the mood. I imagine at this point that he would have had some choice words if asked, but I didn’t really care. He had misjudged and mistimed in my opinion, and this was not going to work.
I know, I know. My opinion is his opinion, and he has the final word and all that, but I am a strong and independent woman and I need to be be won and tamed! I was on a roll and it had brought out something not very nice and not very submissive in me. The sort of mood that in a vanilla relationship would allow you to say.
“Fuck off. You are having a laugh.”
(Again, inside my head, as even vanilla me is not that disrespectful and would rather use words and actions to undermine and wriggle out of things instead.)
So, butt plug in, I got into jeans and socks and trainers and a vest under a long sleeve top and I sprayed the joins with deet just for good measure, and we went downstairs so that I could start the dinner.
Now this should have been the point that things turned around. But alas, this is not a fairy-tale, and some people who rent villas for a considerable weekly sum do not actually expect people to cook a hearty meal for 10 in their gorgeous kitchen, so really it was only the start. I will not bore you with all of the details, but suffice to stay that after I had peeled too many cloves of sticky garlic (don’t you just love the fact that by the time it gets to the UK, it is so stale that the casing just slips off?), discovered there was not the Le Creuset Signature Cast Iron 6.7 litre Casserole (or its non-branded equivalent) that I would expect as standard in a french kitchen, and blah blah blah I am even boring myself now, the timer indicating the end of my reflection and preparation period went off.
I can honestly say that I was so hyped on something other than the cheap French white we had bought at the supermarket by this point, that I didn’t even connect what the sing-song alarm meant. I wonder if he had forgotten too as his expression was a little like rabbit caught in the headlights combined with wolf on the prowl, but non-the-less, he got his Dom back on and told me that the time was up on my butt plug.
“Leave it in if you like,” I growled, “I hadn’t really noticed it with everything else that is stressing me out.”
And the words? Game, set and match combined with cry for help! What had I really won? Nothing. And neither had he. The whole thing was a disaster from start to finish and all we were left with was the failure we had set ourselves up for.
So we bonded, in the end, over the Italian seasoning which turned out, of course, to be Herbs De Provence. What else could we do? It was the final straw as it were. We very quickly hit the bottom and there was only one way to go. And I suppose that is the thing. We bounce back up. I think that probably a Sauvignon Blanc for just over 3 euros could have something to do with it, but by the time we went to bed, the Bolognaise De Provence had been served and demolished, the butt plug had been removed, and we had reflected on where we went wrong. I am not sure what could have salvaged this really. A stern spanking was out of the question due to the company we were keeping, and anything else would have delayed dinner further.
I do see that I was not submissive in the slightest. I was very closed to him, and very challenging in to the bargain. I took control, even if only of my own feelings and responses, and this was not conducive to an effective exchange of power. What if he had rerouted his plan when we were late home? Would there have been another occasion? This is what he often does and then regrets not seizing the moment. The holiday seemed plagued with things which were not sent to make things easy for us, so I think at this point, he was trying to stick to his guns and see where it went. I am not sure of the answers really and have been at this game long enough to know that there is no quick fix for us. We are real people in a real relationship and sometimes things will not go according to plan.
What matters, I think, is that we still want to try. Actually with each mess up, like the bolognaise and butt plug, we try harder. We think about where we went wrong and that makes us each a little stronger, and certainly stronger as a couple. At the end of the day, there were many compliments from the consumers of the meal (turns out that on the hob for two hours with Herb De Provence makes a pretty mean dish) and we went to bed laughing and happy. Sometimes it can be the challenges that connect you, and as long as you are able to find your way out of your own head and be present again, things can usually be resolved. Would I use this as a good example of D/s marriage at its finest? No I certainly would not. But would I say it is true to how things can be when your head is not in the game? Yes I would.