Archive | July 2014

What Do You Want From Your Relationship? v. 1.1

On July 5, 2014, I wrote about my initial thoughts before our monthly MAsT Metro NY meeting on the topic of “What Do You Want from Your Relationship”, but until now I haven’t completed my follow up. I’ve decided to stop waiting for all my thoughts to be “perfect” and to dig into what are the most important things I need from a relationship and to write it down. I sat here about 10 minutes and told myself focus, stop being distracted by frivolous web pages, “put pen to paper” and instead of being overwhelmed by the list of wants and needs start with three and then work to say what it means to me. From my view, the following three things are a two way street in a relationship. I need trust, respect, and accountability.

1. Trust Trust is number one and it is a boundary that I cannot allow to go without consequences. It is a line in the sand. Upon entering a relationship trust needs to be discussed to the extent that remedies for forgiveness needs to be expressed and agreed to by all persons, the consequences of repeated broken trust need to be verbally expressed and consented by all persons, and there needs to be a plan and support system in case trust in broken. I will not express here specifics, but any person(s) I would seriously consider a hierarchical relationship will get transparency from me is order to create the best environment for all persons. I need to trust that the person I am with is truly going to be making decisions with my best interest not only “at heart”, but in “mind”. This needs to apply to the entire household if it is triad, family, or a pack. Trust needs to include being treated fairly and to be aware of the emotional, physical, and fiscal well-being of the household members.

2. Respect Common courtesy is what I express to people as a matter of good manners, but my respect is something that is earned. Respect is not a matter of a person’s titles, appointments within our “community”, or a resume. I need to feel respect for the person in charge of the household in order for me to freely turn my will over to them and feel surrender. How a person goes from receiving basic common courtesy from me and moves toward respect, is with actions. How a person conducts themselves through the span of a relationship, before, during, and after its end speaks volumes. As does being treated with value and importance. Do your actions match your words? Do mine? The answer needs to be definitively yes, and yes.

3. Accountability. An accountable person answers for and takes responsibility for their actions and the actions of the household members. The dominant should have a vision of how they wish to develop the property and a larger vision of the direction they wish to steer the household. A person who has chosen to be the authority and the leader, is expected to answer and be held responsible for the failures. If you want the power, you will be expected be accountable for caring for the property you have accepted in a household before, during, and yes also after, in the case the relationship ends. Does this mean the property is never accountable? No. The property should be expected to be held accountable to the Head of Household. Also, rule number one, Protect the Property is not only for the dominant, it is also the responsibility of the property to protect oneself.

As stated at the beginning, from my point of view, trust, respect, and accountability are two way streets. I have learned that it is necessary to set boundaries. For me these three topics are so important that they are deal breakers. I need to trust and be trusted, I need to be treated with respect and feel respect for the Head of Household, and I need to know the person has the strength to hold me accountable and to accept accountability for all persons in the household.


I’ve Got a Brand New Pair of Rollerskates

One of my first memories as a child was roller skating down the hill of the street of my home in Venezuela. I did this with my oldest brother and my sister. It was such fun, such an adventure, that I never stopped roller skating.

When I arrived at my mother’s home this weekend and entered my bedroom one of the first things I see is my roller skates. I had thought to have them shipped to NY and go skate on the Brooklyn Promenade, but with my knee injury I figured it would be a waste of shipping fees. I was extremely happy though just to see my skates. Then I noticed there was only one boot. Where was the other boot? I ask my mother about it and she doesn’t know. Frankly, I am rather distressed. Skating brings good feelings, good memories, and I need to know where my other skate is. Then my mother tells she let Jose’s (our gardener from when we lived in Ft. Lauderdale) two little girls stay in my room this past summer… I calm down a little. I figure the girls were playing with my skates and they are someplace in the house. I am emotionally attached my skates. It doesn’t matter I haven’t worn them in 2 years. I’m a girl and these are my skates.

skatesAt 5am my mother enters my room and in her hand she is holding my lost and now found skate. She tells me she found it under a desk in the other bedroom. I look at my mother and tell her, “When you told me there were two little girls in my room I knew they had to have been playing with my skate.” She says she can’t understand what they were doing with it, since it is too big for them. I tell her, “Mommy (yes I call her mommy), look at it, it’s white and has pink wheels. What girl can possible resist playing with a roller skate that is white with pink wheels?!”

I don’t know if I will bring my skates with me to NY, but I am happy to hold them, to just have them on my feet. I wish I could skate. I am mad at my body for getting injured. I am sad that He didn’t take care of me the way I feel I deserved. I have personal responsibility in all this though. I believe in owning my part. So, now I know, that is it not only the place of the Owner to remember and follow Rule number one, Protect the Property. I too must follow rule #1 and protect the property.

Hi, my name is karida, and I’m a girl. I am open for adoption to a good Daddy. I’m smart, pretty, and I like to smile and laugh. I’m also kind of useful around the house. I like to be helpful and feel I have a lot I can contribute to a household. Plus, I come with a tiara and pretty white roller skates with pink wheels.

My Adventure

On Friday, at 1:50am, I was leaving my apartment in Brooklyn and walking to the subway. It was the beginning and in some ways the end of a tiring journey. In the 48 hours before that, I had worked 3 shifts that equaled 22 hours and that doesn’t include my travel time on the subways. I had gotten home and cooked some fresh asparagus and mushrooms, and mixed it with ramen noodles. I hear my little sister’s voice in my head, as I so often do these days, and she says, “fresh produce is a luxury.” I refuse to let this luxury rot and waste, so I force myself to do what I so easily do for others, and I cook a healthy meal and I sit to eat. I did a little “bano de gato”, packed the only suit case I have – a little duffle bag/tote, brushed my hair and my teeth, and headed out the door. I am flying down to Florida. I had asked for these days off far in advance, but plans change, life keeps moving, and so must I. Instead of cancelling my request for these days off,  I choose to use this time to go visit my mother.

This is my first trip to JFK airport from my new home and the logistics are a bit daunting. One of the things I love about NY is public transit, but trying to figure out how to make this journey under two hours turns out to be difficult. At night the wait times are longer and there are all sorts of service changes and route modifications. After studying a variety of route options I give up and decide to go the way I know best. That involves going past my old home, not something I relish as I generally avoid this area and the memories that haunt me there. Yet, I decide it is the one way I feel sure of knowing where I am going and how long it will take. I take the D train to the 3 train and because I am tired I miss getting off at my old stop where I could have gotten the B15 bus, and easily gotten a seat, to JFK. I figure it was meant to happen that way and stay on the 3 train to the end of the line where I could still get the B15 sans the seat 

I know a fair number of EDP’s (emotionally disturbed people) ride the subway and busses here in NY pretty much all year round. While I rode the few extra stops on the 3 train a women enters the train and sits across from 2 girls beside me and begins to beg for money. One of the girls tries to give her some change, but her partner gets angry and yells at the girl with the change in her hand, “Why you doin’ that?! Don’t give her that! We ain’t got enough for ourselves!” The panhandler starts to yell at the girl about that at least she has a home etc. blah, blah, blah. I feel badly, so I look in my bag for my golden apple. Finally I find it and offer it to the panhandler. She didn’t want it. I tried to offer it again, and again she wouldn’t take it. Sometimes I am so naïve, I just stare at her mystified and the women suddenly becomes aggressive. She stands up and starts to yell at me, holds her arm out, and with her mouth makes a sound like “boom” while she holds her fist in front of my face. She is imitating a gun. I decide to act a little crazy myself and stand up and stare her down. I don’t know why, but I thought I should just stand up for myself. I know, I know! Not the smartest thing I have ever done, but I just didn’t feel like being a good girl! I will not be your good girl! Hah. Um, yea… The train stops and the women decides to get off the train. I sit back down and wait for the final station to get off, then walk down to the bus stop to meet up with the B15 to JFK.

I am waiting at the bus stop with two other ladies and they start talking about a woman on the train who was screaming and acting crazy. I realize it was the same women who tried to bully me and we start sharing our stories. I told them she wanted the ten cents change from the two other girls more than she wanted my apple! I go on about how fresh fruit and vegetables are a luxury these days and how my apple was worth at least .75 cents to $1.00. They nod in agreement and say amen to my sermon. The ladies keep talking and I realize they know each other from seeing each other daily at this stop on their way to work. One notices my bag and asks about my trip. I tell them I am going to visit my mother. That I need to make sure she is okay and that I need to show her that I am okay too. Then I say, “You never get too old to go visit your mother.” I got quiet for a second and said, “Well, not everyone has a good mother.” They nod their heads in agreement.

I am fortunate. My mother knew how to show me love. Granted, after my father died, my mother went all kinds of crazy. I defend her though and say, she did the best she could, with the limited skill sets she had. My father didn’t plan to get cancer, die, and leave my mother with four young children. It sucks, it just happened. It doesn’t matter how much money he left her and other security he provided, because in the end my mother did not have the emotional or intellectual skills needed to take over all the things he did for her.

When I look back, in many ways they had a D/s or M/s relationship. Daddy was the Decider and the Provider and he was very good at it. He created the calm and quiet in our home and family life. He was the teacher, guide, and nurturer. We knew the rules, we had structure and family rituals. I know in the last years my father did what he could to set up support for my mom, but time was too short. My mother took care of the house, the kids, and of him, and she did it well, but that was all she knew. Financial and other worldly matter where all on him. Life was hard after he died, but I still feel I was fortunate. My mother showed me how to love with an open heart. I know not everyone has a mother like mine. I love my mother with all my heart. I never close any part of my heart to her. Nothing could ever make me turn away from her and nothing could ever make me say, “I hate you” to her. I think she was a slave to my father and after he died she stayed alive by being a slave to her children.

I’m in my mother’s home and she wants me to stay. I worry about her. She isn’t well and she isn’t getting the care she deserves. Then again, she won’t let my brothers help her the way she lets me help her. When I arrived to her home I laid in bed in “my room”. Yes, my mother still has a room just for me. She now has my clothes hung up nicely in the closet, more items folded neatly in a dresser, pictures in frames that are mine on the walls, and even though she knows He has hurt me, she leave a picture of Him on the bookcase shelf. She understands there is no because in love and no reason to search for why. That people come into our lives for a reason. I say to her that He brought me to NY and that maybe that was his purpose in my life. I tell her how I have good friends now, who care about me, and help me when I need it. As much as I want to be a good daughter and stay here to help my mother I know that this is my chance to grow. I have determination, perseverance, and vision. I hope she understands. I know she misses me and needs me, but I want to return to NY. I thought my life’s big adventure was starting a year and a half ago, but I was wrong.

My adventure is starting now.

I Dream Lately

I dream lately,
I dream of things that never were.
A dance that never happened.
A spin that never turned.
I dream of scary things too
To horrid to mention.
Anger, rage, unkindness, destruction.
I don’t want to see that,
I try to not remember.
I wonder why they come now?
After a long silence,
My mind is speaking in my sleep.
I long for the quiet days again,
Yet I wake.
I am being forced to feel…

I haven’t had many dreams or nightmares in the past year and half. The past couple of nights I’ve had dreams. The first one was something bad, but I can’t remember now. The second was sad, but I wouldn’t say it was a nightmare. Yesterday morning I laid in bed thinking about my dream and then I sprang up, grabbed my laptop and wrote about the images in my mind. I let it flow freely. Today I am looking over the words. I have blurred images of the dance. Was it a salsa? I will never know. The dance was incomplete. I remember the step forward, the arm raised, his elbow out, but there was no more. There was no spin. No twirl. No follow through. The dance was never completed.

I am not sure what I am feeling more right now. Anger or sadness. I hear my little sisters voice in my head and she says, “You can’t move past it, but you can move through it.” I’m healing. I am doing the work to move through it. As I sit here I breathe, reflect, and let go. My heart is filled with love. I amaze myself. I am able to send a flow of positive energy, to those who do not know how to move through the pain and continue to live with demons.

Generally, I don’t sleep well. I haven’t slept well in a long time. But now there are some days that I lay in the play pen and I nap. I nap in a way that I haven’t in many months. Some nights I curl up in the play pen and I do sleep for hours. I think my body is saying it’s okay, you’re safe, you can sleep now, you can dream again.

Keeping It Realer Than Most

There was a women where I work at who wore a denim jacket that on the center back area said “Keeping it realer than most”.  Above the motto in the shoulder area was a section of the red, white, and blue flag. I enjoyed reading it on her back as I escorted her out of the office at night. It fit her personality. I also thought she had a body like a female marine. She was tight! Her skin was dark toned, she had beautiful eyes, a brilliant smile, and her hair was short and natural. She was also rather serious, smart, and gave off an aura of strength. Her name was McGhee and I thought she was kick-ass.

I always loved McGhee’s jacket. I liked how she wore her motto on her back. It resonated with me. Throughout my life I feel I’ve been a “realer than most” kind of girl. People often enough tell me that I come across as genuine, authentic, and unpretentious. I feel good about that. That is the good girl in me, the girl my father taught me to be. Down to earth personality, yea, a keeping it real personality. Telling it like it is. I’m extremely honest. Sometimes I have to watch that honestly, because tact and subtlety haven’t always been my forte. I miss McGhee. I miss walking her to the door at work and reading the back of her jacket. She had that quiet confidence about her, and I would just smile to myself. She was kick-ass all right!

Today I was thinking, that is how she flagged. That is what she was into. That’s what she was cruising. I was thinking I need to make a Levi-Leather jacket like that for myself. I’ll put the red, white, black and blue flag with a red heart between the shoulders and “Keeping It Realer Than Most…” below. Flagging, a great S&M tradition.

“Jinx! …”

The surPrize!

The surPrize!

“…You owe me a Coke”
“No, I don’t. Why?”
“We said it at the same time and I called, ‘Jinx!’, so you owe me a Coke”
“I didn’t consent to the game.”
“But everybody knows the game.”
“Well, I didn’t know the game and I didn’t consent, so I don’t owe you a Coke.”
“but that’s the rules!”
“I didn’t know the rules.”
“Everybody knows the rules.”
“Well, I didn’t know the rules, and I am somebody, so clearly not everybody knows the rules. I can’t owe you a Coke for a game I didn’t consent to and with rules I didn’t consent to.”
“Yea, but you owe me a Coke.”
“Well, I didn’t consent, but… I will get you a Coke! I saw a special one I wanted to get for you anyway as a surprise.”
“Ooohh, I like the one with the polar bear… Is it a bear?”
“I said it’s a surprise. If I tell you then it’s not a surprise…”

This a real conversation I had yesterday, with my little leather sister Jade. I was just being silly about the consent. It did get me thinking though about the simple need of having rules, consent, and expectations.

Some people think it’s okay, even good, to let things develop organically within a D/s relationship. It sounds nice in theory, the idea of, “let’s just see where this goes.” The more I think about it though, that is a little scary for me. That didn’t go so well for me in my past. In reality I was unhappy a lot of the time. I kept asking for structure, some rules, or rituals. I can’t thrive in “organic”, if it ends up feeling a lot more like chaotic. Organic produce takes a lot of attention and effort and I feel that hierarchical relationships are that way too. They need more attention, not less. Organic wouldn’t be a bad words as long as people accept that to get the great healthy harvest, effort has to be placed into the crop and fields.

I know that a this point, I feel a bit insecure without some rules and order from the start. Without that I am left continually guessing, and then when I do not guess correctly I am left feeling like a failure. I feel it’s important to begin laying a solid structure at the very beginning. I need to have some small successes at the start.  I think it’s really good though to talk about rules and expectation at the very start and to put some doing behind the words. Earn it everyday from both sides of the slash. Not this crap about “If you give me your submission, then I will dominate you” type of stuff. Today I forgive myself for telling the story in my head that, “If I had just done x,y,z…” or some other similar story that puts me at blame for the epic fails. Fuck that noise. If you didn’t inspire me, as a dominant, then that is on you, not me.

Keeping it realer than most.

A Kinky Girl Dating Vanilla

I have decided to try dating and to allow vanilla people into my acceptable parameters. This must sound so crazy to my close friends, because in all seriousness I don’t see any future for me long term with anyone who isn’t interested in a 24/7 hierarchical relationship. Other than my co-workers I don’t have any vanilla acquaintances. Simply put, I plan to date people for companionship until I am ready or stumble across someone for a serious relationship. So, my kinky friend Jenny tells me to try OKCupid. After a couple of weeks and her telling me “You can find kinky guys on there!” I have taken the plunge. She is right they do have a matching set up that fits for kinky people. They actually have a question about being in a Master/slave relationship… and many others including topics of bondage, power & control, D/s and more. I am kind of wowed. So, I am not really sure if I am dating vanilla yet or not, but it seems that way and that is really WEIRD to me! I guess I am in a middle zone of not being able to imagine a relationship without D/s and still wanting companionship.

I have to accept that I am open, honest, and trustworthy, but that not all people are. Admitting, that I have been naïve at times. I am what I say I am. When it comes to my submission, I need to trust and respect you. I do not function in life in a submissive or slave mode. Just because a person identifies as dominant and I may respect them, doesn’t mean I go into default sub/slave mode. I must connect with the person and even then I must be inspired and continue to feel inspired to give my submission. Earn my trust, keep my trust, then I will be what I say I am and I will do as you say to do without question. That is why being my dominant is hard work. As I must earn my place in a household, so must the person who wishes to master me earn their right of authority. My submission is something earned and something one must continue to earn and be worthy of. I have learned that lesson at a great expense.

So, yes, I am dating vanilla. It’s companionship and it’s simple. It’s not for keeps though. It’s more for the moment. I suspect the moment may be brief and extremely short lived. It’s a step at entering back into the social world and I deserve some light hearted moments. My heart needs a little rest. God help the vanillas, here I come!