A step closer to healing

Why is it so hard to be positive? I asked myself this question today, and I really don’t like the answer.

I don’t feel like I deserve to be happy.

Get this… I actually felt there was no point in approaching this 8 week recovery period positively, because it was going to suck. And everywhere I looked, there were clear signs of suckage. So, what’s the point?

Then, on top of that, my religion-trained mind made me feel guilty for taking time to recover. Actually, my mind didn’t even make it about me needing time to recover. It told me that I was causing Z to suffer needlessly not being able to have sex with Him.

How had I seriously FORGOTTEN that I had an organ cut and pulled out through my vagina 28 days ago! I remembered it, really remembered it, in the shower this morning when I was checking the incisions. But even then, I hadn’t had this epiphany, so it didn’t sink in much.

I’ve had some time to think today. I’ve had a lot of really awesome people remind me that I am valid and loved no matter what, and my worth is not based on my sexual performance. (Yup, a thing I really thought despite knowing it was false.)

I appreciate each and every one of you.

Z, Sir, I love you. Thank you – not only for always sticking by me through the rough stuff, but for also showing me the way out of the rut, and then helping me get back up.

I’m so grateful there’s only a few more weeks of recovery. I am going to read through this post often and focus my thoughts on things I *can* do, like finish those lines…

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Hysterectomy recovery for a hyper sexual

Hi, I’m Muirnah. I love sex, but I can’t have it for 8 weeks because I had a hysterectomy.

In plain terms, my uterus and cervix were removed, and in my case, tubes as well. Now, if you need a brush up on female anatomy, the cervix is at the top of the vaginal canal, and the bottom of the uterus. So, if you take off the top of the vagina, it must be “cuffed” to be closed again. Because of this, I cannot have anything penetrating my vagina or anus for 8. Whole. Weeks.

Z suggested one morning, once I felt well enough to be horny, that I have some Hitachi Time. And like I’d been punched in the gut, I broke down and cried.

My marriage had been sexless for a while before it ended. Using the Hitachi to orgasm became a daily thing. I was usually in too much pain to use dildos. It was all I had, and my resentment grew towards my wife and the Hitachi.

So while I do use it sometimes, those circumstances are supplemental. Treats, if you prefer. Plus, I was so desensitized it took me 5-10 minutes to cum with the damn thing anyway. So the thought of just using it on myself because I can’t have intercourse is a complete turn off and as we found out in this situation, a heartwrenching trigger.

Sex is important to me. My love language is touch. I struggled with not knowing how Z and I would be able to share the intimacy we both would crave without having sex.A lot of it was also contingent on my recovery and how quickly I would feel well enough to think about sex (answer: several hours) let alone be well enough to do things and move around (answer: 6 days).

Originally, I had planned to tell the nitty gritty of how to get off when you can’t have intercourse. And I still might, but honestly, it’s hard to articulate. I want to tell you how much it hurts to miss that intimacy. I’m not talking general sexual urges, although those are equally difficult. Like, damn, I just wanna fuck! But, that feeling, that connection when He is deep inside me and He looks into my eyes… It cannot be duplicated and it cannot be replaced. We’ve tried.

Sure, we’ve had fun, but the truth is, it cuts me deeply. It kills me that I can’t feel that connection. And a few nights ago, it surfaced in a big way. We were being as close as we could – His cock on my labia and clit, just feeling our bodies together… But I was so wet, I was terrified He would slip in. And as soon as that terror reached me, I was crying. Not just tears, but sobbing and heartache. He held me, and told me it was all going to be okay, that He still wanted me, that He always would.

Last night, this version of our fucking brought Him to orgasm. I was happy, but not as happy as I wanted to be. Yes, I have given plenty blowjobs, and Him cumming on my pussy was definitely hot. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing will ever be able to replace that intimacy.

Logically, I know this is temporary. Logically, I also know it’s for the best. I mean, this surgery has already changed my life. Like, literally, I feel like myself again! No chronic pain, no constant cramping, no bleeding! And yet, there is a part of me that isn’t whole without this intimacy. And I am sure I am not the first to feel like this. I know I won’t be the last. And now that we begin week 3, I am that much closer to week 8.

The thing that is driving me to be okay is knowing that He feels the same way. He misses me terribly, despite the fact that He can and does have sex. (I am grateful that He has that outlet, for His happiness and hers. She’s a beautiful person and has extended kindness after kindness.)

But our poly steps do feel 1,000 times more difficult because I can’t use sex to reconnect with Z. But *knowing* that it’s hard for Him too, that He really does miss it, and me, and our lovemaking…

We will do plenty of fun things in the mean time. Last night we had some impact play. I’m grateful that my body is healing enough that I can do things like this, to reaffirm our dynamic in my mind. I am going back to work Monday, and I am looking forward to the routine and distraction. And the best part is, much of our weekdays incorporate my servitude, and what a beautiful focus that will be.

In short, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, practice patience. Communicate. It’s okay to spend an hour together just saying you miss each other. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay, to not be okay. Because you will be. And when you’re on the other side, you’ll be able to look back and see just how strong and capable you are. (And yes, that’s me talking to myself as much as you, my reader friend.

When you struggle to reach the top of the mountain, and you’re *so close* but not there yet, don’t forget how far you’ve already come. It matters. You matter.

=^.^=

My journey into poly continues…

So you may have guessed by now that Z and I are both highly sexual people. We have sex daily – most of the time. Life happens, including periods. But not anymore, because I had a hysterectomy.

In plain terms, my uterus and cervix were removed, and in my case, tubes as well. Now, if you need a brush up on female anatomy, the cervix is at the top of the vaginal canal, and the bottom of the uterus. So, if you take off the top of the vagina, it must be “cuffed”. Because of this, I cannot have anything penetrating my vagina or anus for 8. Whole. Weeks.

For either of us to go 8 weeks without sex would make us super grumpy, no matter what the circumstances. I didn’t want Him to go without that release. I knew I didn’t have a choice. But more on me later.

I have been doing a lot of work on myself being ready for Him to have another lover. I love all the possibilities that open up to us when we open our hearts to love in all forms. And this has always been on the table for our relationship. I wrote about it back in June.

Now I was worried He would get a week into my recovery and stress about asking me if I was ready to consider Him having a lover. I didn’t want to be caught off guard either when the time would come, regardless of timing with my surgery. Plus to avoid stressing myself and feeling guilty (recovering catholic) for not being able to give my body to Him, I told Him several weeks before the surgery that I was okay with Him looking around.

I put in a lot of work to fight off jealousy and insecurities between then and now. He has reassured me anytime I needed it, that my place in His life is not threatened by His sexual activity or connections with other people. I am His life partner. I am a part of His family. No one will take that away. His wife has also helped me with a lot of that too.

But the timing was still very hard for me. I struggled with my own demons.

Anyway, throughout the week, plans were made. Friday night was their date. I suggested to Z’s wife, L, that we get chinese food, and so the kiddo, L and I settled in with some visually appealing Netflix for background, and a deliciously comforting dinner.

I kept myself mostly distracted with movies and crafting after that. I tried not to look at the time. And it worked! Then He was home!

When He got out of the shower, and I came into the bathroom, He told me they did the thing. (I knew already; He was showering again). My rational mind raced ahead to my reassurances and reminders. I could see the spring in his step. I was glad that He was able to. But my heart… it couldn’t understand my mind. It felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. I couldn’t breathe.

I cried uncontrollably for over an hour. He held me, then gave me some space. L comforted me, then gently nudged me to go to Him. He comforted me while I cried some more and reassured me of all the things I already knew, but needed to hear again. It was so emotionally intense to feel such turmoil based solely on the conditioning of growing up knowing only monogamy at complete odds with my desire to be polyamorous, and not controlled by envy.

But to actually see the bounce back in His step and His relaxed demeanor after that physical release that He needed… I knew we were on the right path and that I would be okay.

Sure enough, within an hour of talking, reaffirming, and even hearing about His evening, I wanted to serve my Master and make His night the best it could be. So naturally, I gave Him a bomb ass blowjob.

Poly isn’t easy, folx. But it is rewarding. I’m no expert, and I know I will still struggle on occasion. But I’m committed to being the best me and doing poly in a healthy way that works for us.

a glimpse of energy transference

I was sitting on the floor at his feet with my eyes closed. He was using our leather slapper on my face.

Smack.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Smack, smack.

“Thank you, Sir,” softer this time.

Each hit landed with purpose, some harder than before. And every subsequent “Thank you, Sir” became more breathless. I felt tension in my body, spooling up to orgasm potential. I felt the sting of each slap and the corresponding surge of tingles in my clit.

I also could not. stop. smiling.

The scene wasn’t a heavy one, per se. But it wasn’t very light either. I was in subspace, but the energy I felt was almost giddy. It didn’t exactly match to my own feelings.

I was euphoric, but now I was euphoric and giggling, which usually means a very Sadistic turn of events. Desperate to see where things were heading, I opened my eyes to look at Him.

He was trying, and failing, to conceal a smile as He continued slapping my face. They came a bit harder, with more sting, but the giggles still persisted.

“Why are you smiling?!” I asked incredulously.

Then I burst into fits of giggles again.

As an empath, I have days when I loathe feeling other people’s energy and emotions. The general public can be very negative. But moments like these, when we’re so in tune with each other, that I feel His excitement and barely contained primal energy, make it a worth while trait to have.

《《Cross posted to Fetlife 》》

On poly…

I believe that it is possible to love more than one person at a time, and be in healthy, productive, and happy relationships with them. I mean, I do that now. Z is married to a wonderful woman that I have grown to love and treasure. We live together. We spend a lot of time together.

But since Z and I started dating and developing our M/s relationship, there hasn’t been anyone else for either of us.

In the past 11 months, I’ve learned what it feels like to be truly loved and cared for. I’ve learned what it’s like to have a partner with a matching libido AND matching DESIRE. Like, I *never* doubt that He wants me. It’s just a fact.

And I’ve learned that I love sharing our kink life and relationship. I want people to see that it’s possible, how it can be done, and maybe get off on it. We both do. We are also two of the most hedonistic people you may ever meet, and so we want to be able to experience things with other people.

And here’s where I struggle. Could it be because I finally found my everything, and now I don’t want to share? I don’t want to be like that. We have a dynamic, but in our relationship we are equal. And we both want to be okay with the other playing, and eventually being in a relationship if it arises. But insecurity and jealousy are two very real things in poly. Hell, in life.

Being able to recognize the jealousy for what it is, has become my greatest life skill. One day, I’ll be able to keep the initial reaction off my face (ha!) or out of my mouth. But until then, we’re working on it.

Yes, I said we. He helps me remember that my collar is as significant as a wedding ring. And He reminds me that I have a place and a priority in His life.

So we negotiate. We discuss what we’re okay with right now. We discuss what we want to be comfortable with but aren’t quite there yet. It’s hard. I cry, a lot. And He comforts, listens, and holds me.

And don’t think it’s just me who struggles. He does too. And I help Him through it. We set goals. We do A LOT of emotional work. We’re both very emotional and passionate individuals. We feel everything 10000x more intensely than most people.

Our life is not always rainbows and butterflies. Above all, we are human; But we keep communicating and discussing. I’ve never talked about my relationship with my partner as much as I do with Him. But I will say this.

It. Fucking. Works.

The Sadistic Burger: D/s Misfire

Sometimes, things in D/s don’t always go as planned. D-types and s-types are still human. Regardless of our kinks or side of the slash, we should be mindful of how we react and perceive things.

The following was an average weeknight…

Dinner was ready. One burger for each of us, to start. Then cook the second round.

I pulled out two buns, one for my plate, and one for His. He walked to my side, and I was fully aware of what was coming.

“Do you want your two burgers now?” I asked already begrudgingly.

“Yes.” He replied.

I sighed, moved both buns to His plate, and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” He asked holding out the plate.

I looked at Him. My face hot with humiliation, tears only held at bay by biting my cheek as I fixed His burgers.

Part of my brain was like, “no way man… that was too far.”

But the other part of my brain? Hah. I was getting off on my own humiliation and His power and cursing Him for it too.

He kissed me. Fingering my collar as He walked away.

Master first, in all things.

The way He had held and fingered the ring on my collar told me that He was simply reminding me of my role.

That could be the end of the story. It could have been the beginning of the end. I could have gone about my evening, over it, but also having filed it away as a mind fuck scene, and used our general affection as my aftercare & later harbored some resentment. But instead, I shared my perspective with Him. I told Him what I perceived, and how the scene affected me.

He read my blog draft.

“You should know, the only reason I took both my burgers first is because you said something. And you getting pissy about it is why you had to make my plate.”

My world spun.

What?

I… made myself feel humiliated? How does that work?

1. How did He reprimand me for being pissy and I was clueless about it?

2. How and why did I create this elaborate “scene”?

From His perspective… He knew He could take both burgers. But He knew I needed the calories and wanted me to eat. At the same time, when I dangled it in front of Him, how could He turn it away?

When I huffed and then tried to walk away, I’d been insubordinate. That is a no-no in our dynamic, so He acted accordingly.

What followed was a long and intense recap of the way we both perceived that event.

I thought He was just being sadistic and a little bit of a jerk. (He wasn’t.)

He thought I was giving Him an attitude. (I was).

That is how I ended up being reprimanded, and not knowing it. It took several hours of off and on discussion before we figured out the hows and whys of that miscommunication and why I felt the need to create that scene for myself.

D/s relationships can be perceived abusive or unhealthy by people outside the kink world for good reason. Their perception is still valid even if it’s not the truth of the dynamic they are witnessing. Remember, they don’t see the constant communication that living this dynamic requires. Mostly because it is deeply intimate. But all the same, their perception is valid for them.

The same goes for your partner. I highly encourage conversation about your scenes with your partner. Preferably, as soon as possible afterwards. First, because you get to hear them say things like, “when you did that thing with your tongue, it drove me wild!” Who wouldn’t wanna hear that kind of praise?

But second, you can ask questions like, “what did you think and feel when I did this?” And this is where things can be difficult. During your discussions, focus your responses around “I statements”. But be honest and tell them how things felt, good or bad. Tell them how it felt mentally. Tell them about the knot in your chest. Tell them about the butterflies in your belly.

If the both of you can communicate on this level, and take the commentary for what it is (Discussion! Not criticizing!) you have the chance of a lifetime to grow and learn more about each other and your relationship. Communication is sexy!

In an instant…

It was my birthday. July 22nd. I answered a message on OkCupid from a guy who identified as everything I ever wanted in a partner. (Too good to be true!) (Shut up!)

After a day or two of heated, deep yet light chatting via text, I was convinced that I was going to be super disappointed. Like this guy was seriously too good to be true. Kinky, Dominant, Sadistic (He gave examples…) but also sensual, romantic (wtf!), and funny. So there has to be *something*, my brain insisted. But try as I may, I couldn’t find it. Then He suggested talking on the phone before our scheduled meet up on Thursday of that week. I was terrified.

I can’t really explain, but the thing is, I have never been 100% comfortable on the phone. Awkward silence, having to verbalize my thoughts literally made me shake with anxiety. Somehow I managed the strength to talk to Him on the phone. It was uncanny how quickly He put me at ease. We laughed, shared stories, talked about our jobs, and ended up staying on the phone for 4 hours while we worked. And since we were working, yeah, some of it was just air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable! We have talked on the phone every day since then, except the days we’ve been together. And it’s still comforting to have Him on the other end of the phone.

Finally, it was Thursday. It was the day we would finally meet in person. The chemistry over the phone was intoxicating. I was being noticed. I was being heard. So I wasn’t as nervous as I normally I would be. I remember driving through town and being more anxious about finding a parking spot near the bar where the munch was being held. I hit the jackpot of parking spots AND got there after the meters turn off for the night. (Winning, considering I had no change on me.) I was wearing a knee length black and white striped skirt, strappy sandals, cheeky lace panties (I had teased Him, asking what He’d do if I showed up in a skirt with no panties… His answer and the state of my then marriage prompted me to be a good girl.), and a purple sleeveless deep v-neck top. I wish I’d taken a picture of myself that night. I felt so sexy… My hair and makeup were on point, and I had butterflies.

I texted Him that I arrived and parked. He replied that He’d meet me outside, but I didn’t get that message because I put my phone back in my purse. So I walked into this tiny bar. Everyone turned and looked at me, the bartender said “hello!”, and I froze. I didn’t see Him. Then I remembered they were outside, so I asked where to go to get outside, and began following a server. In the small doorway between the main bar and the hallway leading to the outdoor patio, it happened. In an instant, my world began to shift and I didn’t even realize it.

The fuse on our physical chemistry ignited. I rushed into His arms and gave Him a hug. He smelled like soap and just… man. He wasn’t doused in cologne, or wearing a button down shirt like all the headless doms on Twitter. He is very rarely a stereotypical anything. He held me for a moment, pulled back, smiled a gorgeous smile with His entire face, and said, “Yay!”

I have never felt someone buzzing with excitement to meet me on a first date/meet. It was ridiculously intoxicating. I stood there and stared so long, He had to urge me on. What happened next was an indicator of the instinctual dynamic between us. He turned and walked towards the outdoor patio. I followed a step or two behind Him and to the right. He opened the door and I stepped through, stopping just on the other side of the threshold. He walked past me, and I followed again.

When I sat down next to Him, I was so drawn to Him I couldn’t help touching Him every chance I got. His knee, His arm, His hands. I touched as much as I could without being lewd in public. He returned the gestures just as fervently. There were moments during that meet when I looked into His eyes, and the world around us just disappeared. It was intense and intoxicating. His stare burned right through me.  I was aroused and immediately felt the Dominance in Him calling to the submissive in me.

I could tell you all the intimate details of the rest of the night, but I would be here typing for a week, so that will be another time. Suffice it to say, the entire evening was plucked out of the last BDSM romance novel I read. And that is not an exaggeration. 🙂

All of that, to say this… I love you Zehguul. I knew that day my life had changed irrevocably. I love the life we are building together. The last 3 months have been a combination of hurricane force stress and the calmest seas I’ve ever experienced, but I am glad it’s you, and I’m glad you’re the source of my calm. Here’s to many more months as your kitty, your submissive, your masochist, and your girlfriend. ❤

=^*^=

Muirnah