Rage

I have always had a terrible temper, but I can usually control it very well. I have only "lost it" completely twice in my life. However, last night was the first time I even came close to losing it since I was 16.

Last night my boy and I went to a small party that some of our vanilla friends were hosting. It was just a small get together out in the country with only 6 people there counting Bear and myself. He decided to stay sober so I started doing tequila shots with my hostess friend. I usually don't drink tequila because it tends to make me short tempered, but since I was with mostly people I knew and trusted it didn't seem like a bad idea. I didn't drink enough to get wasted, but I did have 6 tequila shots in less than an hour.

That is when the only guy at the party I didn't know started teasing my boy. I told him to knock it off because he was drunk and I didn't want to listen to it. He would quit for awhile, but he was so drunk that he would get bored and forget I just told him to fuck off.

Around 5 a.m. Bear started to fall asleep so my friend said we could stay in one of the extra rooms. I helped her make it up then took my boy to bed. He laid down and crashed almost immediately. I was relaxed but still awake. After about 30 minutes I heard the door open. I saw that drunk asshole sneaking into the room like he was gonna crawl in bed with us. I sat up and glared and told him to fuck off. He did, but he kept coming back every few minutes to fuck with me since he knew I was trying hard not to wake Bear up and I wouldn't do anything.

After the asshole came in for the fourth time, I had had enough. I stood up carefully and moved to the door where he was standing and told him to get out or I would fuck him up. He got pissed and started yelling so I grabbed him by the throat and shoved him backwards over the t.v. This is when everyone else noticed something was going on. They tried to calm him down, but he was drunk and stupid and yelling his head off, trying to get up and come after me. Everyone else was holding him back and this is when Bear woke up. He had his hands on my waist like he was going to hold me back, but I wasn't about to let him get involved. My instincts were kicking in hard and my only thought was Bear's safety and well-being. I was fully ready to rip that drunk motherfucker apart, but I knew I couldn't loose it because Bear would get involved and I didn't want him to be.

Long story short, my friends talked him into the kitchen to try to calm his drunk ass down while Bear and I got our stuff and left. I was so pissed and at the edge of my control by the time I got to the car that my whole body was shaking violently. It took me a long time to calm down enough to sleep after that.

I think one thing nobody but my boy understands is that I am a very avaricious person. When something is mine, it is MINE, end of story. And nobody messes with my things. I protect and care for my own and fuck everybody else. That is how I am and always have been. Even when I am feeling submissive, I am still possessive over things that are mine. Bear is my boy and I would have killed that drunk motherfucker for hurting his feelings in a heartbeat.

Pity Party

I'm sure that if anyone out there has been reading my blog for the last year or two, you are sick of hearing about my self-centered babbling about how unhappy I generally am. For those people, I recommend skipping this post because that is all its going to be.

I am so sick of being so fucking unhappy. Daddy told me recently that being unhappy about who and what you are is like acid. It eats away at your core. I fully agree. Hardly a moment goes by that I don't feel it eating me away. I can't stop crying and hating myself. I can't change for my husband and it makes me hate that part of me that loves, craves, and ultimately needs everything that BDSM offers. I hate that who I am and what I need has yet again made me a failure. Once again, I'm not good enough or normal enough for something I want to work. I really thought that I could be happy vanilla if I just tried hard enough. Instead I just succeeded in making a mess out of my life and His too.

I hate that I will end up hurting Him. I hate that I can't change. I hate myself. And all that hate is eating away at me. I cannot keep going like this. Something has got to give, and soon. I think I will go insane if I keep going like this much longer. I can't handle it.

What happened to fairness? What happened to work hard to succeed? What happened to all you need is love? Where is the fairness in this? I've worked hard. I'm still trying. I've given and received more love than I've ever felt. So where is my happy ending? So where is my successful marriage? And where the fuck is my happiness?

Orgasm Trouble

I have always had trouble with orgasms. Not the ones I give myself, but ones that others try to give me. Until I met Sir I had never had a penetration orgasm. And trust me, I had had plenty of sex before I met Him. I started to wonder for awhile if there wasn't a problem with me. I had never heard of anyone not having an orgasm if they enjoyed the sex. Which I always did. I've always been quite the nymphomaniac. I could never get enough.

I had never had problems masturbating either. I have been giving myself orgasms since I was eight. The problem always seemed to come around when I tried to have one with a man. Before Sir, I had been with many men and some women. Never had penetration alone given me an orgasm. However, I have had many whenever I have received oral sex.

After I met Sir and He gave me my first real penetration orgasm, I thought I was in heaven. I didn't think it would be a problem anymore. I knew better than to expect them constantly, but I thought that they would still happen pretty frequently. And they do...under one condition: I must not want oral sex. Whenever my body decides it needs oral sex, everything else that is sex related goes out the window. I cannot even masturbate very successfully.

This boggles my mind. I cannot understand why this happens. I am so turned on all the time, but I cannot orgasm. I thought that maybe it was a mental block, but I don't see how that could be when I am so horny and want it so much.

I don't think all this would really be a problem except for one thing: Sir doesn't like to perform oral sex on women. He says that sometimes it is ok, but for the most part He doesn't go near it. He doesn't even really like to touch me there (except with His cock obviously). This bothers me quite alot. He swears that it isn't anything to do with me specifically, He has never liked it. I believe Him, I just don't know what to do about it.

I feel silly to say that I need oral sex, but I don't know what else to think. My entire body aches at the thought and nothing else will suffice. I'm in agony when I think of it because I am constantly turned on. I just want it to stop. I'm sick of feeling like I have no control over my own body. I'm angry and tired and horny all the time because of it, and it is starting to strain my relationship with Sir. I don't want to pressure Him or make Him feel bad in any way. But it seems that I can't help it. I beg Him for hours to fuck me, then when He does I don't really get anything out of it. It is trying His patience and I am sick of it as well. He tells me He doesn't mind, but I still feel guilty. I'm at the end of my rope here. I feel like if I don't get some release soon, I will go crazy, but I would rather die than nag Sir into it...especially since He doesn't enjoy it. I guess I'm just at a loss.

Sleep, Revisited

Ok this will probably be a short post. I am very tired and rather pissed. One of the hazards of sleeping on someone's couch, is the possibility of being woken up at odd hours. Its usually not a big deal, but Friday nights are the worst. Last night I was going to sleep at 2. Not even a minute after I lay down, my cousins and their friends came running through and woke me up. This wouldn't have been a big deal, but one of his friends decided that he wanted to sit and talk to me. They were all pretty drunk, so I humored him for awhile. Long story short, I didn't get to bed until 5. I had to trick them out the door, then lock it. Then this morning I got woken up several times between 9 and 11, which is when I finally gave up on sleep altogether.

Sometimes I want to yell and scream and kick ass. I don't. I may think about it and really want to, but mostly I don't have it in me. I don't know if that makes me a better person or not. If it does, I have to wonder what the standards of decentcy have come to lately.