Tag Archives: submission

Too Much

By Poppy | 31/01/2012 - 7:18 pm | belt 9 Comments

Imagine a lady, a giantess swooping along a glacial corridor. She is dressed in ball gown, voluminous metallic grey skirts rustling and dragging all around her. She is magificent, terrifying to behold, utterly unstoppable, unaware of all around her.

She is a river, a monumental river, like the Ganges from the mountains to the sea carrying innumerable souls, all at once, all human life and no living thing.

Atop her, for all her magnifience and overwhelming size is a girl, a normal girl from the waist up looking horrified as below her her skirts alter the whole world. Tiny compared to her silks, insignificant even as she continues her journey across the landscape.

Oh, how I have wanted to write that- for so many days that image has haunted me. I am at once a force of tidal emotion and a tiny girl, lost in piles of books unable to reach the high shelves. I am learning how to do all these practical things with grim efficiency (‘Don’t tell me about the problem, sort it out, don’t even tell me about the soloution, just move along and sort the next issue out.’) whilst all the time yearning to sit still for a few minutes with a book of poems and a glass of wine.

Dexter is here with me. He is solid and calm to my rages and storms. I am my very own weather pattern. I am my own moon and sea. I am my own stars and sky. Everything, all at once, everywhere, alone and crowded, calm and shaking. I hate it.

This is the start of my journey and to help you, dear reader shall put this more simply.

I have my space (so beautiful, I shall write about it another time). I have a man who is everything I could wish for and who is yang to my yin, Top to my bottom, stern to my submission. I have pretty things and implements and books.

But I also have such a surfeit of emotion that if it were food I would have gout. I am swollen with it, sore with it, bent over with it, overwhelmed and held hostage.

Dexter knows. He waits. He watches and holds me. He takes time with me. Last night I was bent over the chaise longue, over the scroll at the end. My bottom was presented to his belt, no formal introductions were needed, it was not the first meeting but it was the most intense. Just there as I struggled, as I watched my arms flail out to reach for him and as I heard myself start to cry I had the briefest glimpse of peace. It was just a moment but we both felt it.

There will be more moments. I can’t imagine it now but there will be. I will be sure to keep you informed.

(My chaise longue is dusky pink by the way- no leopard print in my house.)

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Happy Christmas

Someone Has Annoyed Me

Be The Pressie

Well, what do you expect?

Tagged submission

Fantasy Monday: Look At Me

By Poppy | 16/01/2012 - 6:20 am | fantasy Monday, spanking 14 Comments

“Look at me!” She did not say it but she may as well have.

All day she showed him her knickers. She spent an undue amount of time picking things up from the floor. She asked him to check an old bruise on her thigh. She flipped up her skirt as she left the room when she brought him a cup of tea.

He smiled. He waited to let the show play itself out.

Until he walked into their bedroom and all he could see was her knickers. He did not wait any longer.

“Come here,” he held out his arms and watched her confused face as she waited for him on the bed. She didn’t want to leave their bed; she had quite a few plans and none of them involved leaving it.

He held her in front of him, tightly so that she watched the muscles on his biceps swell as she tilted her head back for the kiss she knew would arrive. But then she was twisted away, around and about and in directions she lost the gist of.

He held her so still, upside down over his thigh so that she dangled before him, a little pink rag doll waiting for his ministrations.

They waited. She started to wriggle, “Stop it,” she demanded.

“Stop what?”

“I can feel you looking at me, it makes me shy,” her voice was higher than normal as she pressed her legs tight together and tried to reach back to cover her bum.

He reached down and pressed both wrists to her back with one large paw. “I thought you wanted me to look at you.”

She could hear his smug smile through his words. She arched her back and tried to get up- she was not successful.

“Yes, well that was before…”

“Before?”

“Yes, when I thought you were going to be nice and be fun and be … you know, kissy.”

“And now?” he asked as he tipped her forward so that her bottom was raised and her legs started to flail hopelessly.

“Now you must stop iiiiiiit.” Her voice went up high at the end as she felt herself tipped even further, her balance only assured by his tight grip on her wrists.

“Why must I?”

Because … because …” her voice sank, “You’re not doing it right.”

“And by ‘right’ you mean?”

“You are not doing it the way I wanted you to and I don’t like it.” She left her admission in front of him, a sulky gift before she altered and shrank.

He watched her, not looking as she had requested but watched which is what he preferred and as he saw her change he lifted his hand, the first of many times.

He watched her as she accepted, as she struggled and as she altered once more. Bravado dismissed in a moment, replaced with something cleaner, more pure, more authentically her.

Taking her upright, sore bottom on his lap, wet eyes against his neck;gently he moved her away from him, just a little, and met her eyes.

He watched. He looked at her. He smiled.

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You Have Heard Of Top Cat ...

A Warning To Tops

Reality - puf

Too Much

Tagged bend over, spanking, submission

Life Under A Big Top: The Kiss

By Poppy | 06/01/2012 - 6:22 am | control, Life With A Big Top 10 Comments

A kiss is not just a kiss.

It is a declaration.

His cool eyes meet my flashing ones and he takes a step towards me. He reaches out and pulls me towards him

I might glare at first, then tilt my head back to accept the erotic intent. I had thought I did not want to be kissed but his eyes remind me of pleasure, my body yields and mind catches up as our lips touch.

The kiss is invasive. I try to struggle but forget how. We both feel the moment when my will bends and melts away. He continues long enough to bewitch me.

I am still dreaming of his kiss as his lips leave mine and I find myself tipped away and over his lap.

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Thoughts From Abroad

I Dream of Jeans

My Submissions

Guest post by Anastasia: The Princess

Tagged dominance, submission

Hearing The Pain

By Poppy | 03/01/2012 - 7:04 am | strength, submission by any other name 26 Comments

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” –C.S. Lewis

This was sent to me by a dear friend. It can mean so many different things to people. For me now it encourages me to move forward and change my life, for others it can be about spanking and submission.

Use it as you will.

I am having an odd reaction to emotional pain.

I read about an approach to lots of emotion which I thought I would try. It involves observing the emotions you feel, watching them, noting their impact on you but being aware that they are not you. The writer suggested observing your emotion as water viewed from behind a waterfall or as cars passing on a road.

I tried this. The images combined; my emotions appear to me as cars falling in front of me to the ground. It is not relaxing. It is frightening and appears that they may take out not only me but anyone around me.

This weekend I have been an utter charm. I have thrown tantrums about such earth shattering matters as a) Dexter not having a butter dish, b) forgetting to put feta on some scones and c) dropping a fish slice.

And when I say tantrums I mean shouting, swearing and tears. The peace I find is all thanks to Dexter. He stops me, fixes me with his eyes and, more often than not, just holds me steady. I find stillness in his arms and his eyes.

It may even be that he spanks me, hard, quick, take no prisoners spankings that make me shrink back to normal size and small enough to tuck me into his shoulder and allow me to whisper apologies into his ear. My bottom has often been sore and red this weekend. I have no idea how I would live through this without these spankings. He understands enough to know that I need that kind of strictness, even as I am sad and sore of heart. I love that he does not back off and how gentle he is afterwards.

I yearn, with everything I have for the peace of submission, the yielding to his authority. I have glimpses of it now and then, I breathe out and find a quiet that is in every cell of me. And then it goes again and the rage comes back. This rage makes me tense and bitterly strong. I hate it and I don’t understand it.

So here I am, I am so close to the submission that I need but I am keeping it at bay with the most violent and illogical rage that I have ever encountered in my life. But what I am learning about submission is these two things.

Firstly, I am sleeping heavily at the moment. I sleep heavily because I use up all my rage at Dexter, I hurl myself about, I rant and exhausted I stop and look at him. He is unchanged. He is calm. It tells me that this man is stronger than I am, that I can trust him to remain calm when everything about him (ie me) is howling at everything. At times like this he exudes such strength than I can just fall asleep in his arms which is where I have spent these last few nights.

Secondly, I am learning that submission will come, not to force it. This is a life, a pursuit not for a weekend or a game. Right now I need to rage and he is there, making it safe for me to do so. In time I will yield more easily. We both know it.

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Mais, Oui.

Happy July 4th- Teach Me O Americans

The Date.

School Memory

Tagged submission

Advent day 8: Suggestions Please

By Poppy | 08/12/2011 - 6:16 am | bottoms, submission by any other name 17 Comments

I am super excited.

Tomorrow I will see Dexter and I want to go right now, right this minute.

But I have a question, little concern and I hope you have some ideas.

What happens is I have a busy job where I tell lots of people what to do. I then drive for a few hours through very busy traffic.

So I arrive in absolute bossy, in charge, efficient, tense mode. It takes hours to come down and I hate it. I want to arrive, have a shower, get changed and melt into his arms. I don’t want to be all tight lipped and tense. My shoulders are up when I arrive. I am hungry and grumpy- even though all I want to do is be my other self.

I have been terrible this week. I have lots of life changes going on and that makes me insecure which has made me difficult and disobedient. (I am really trying to be good – I just admitted the two D words.) I want to be like I am when I am relaxed and happy, in other words submissive. I am still naughty when I am like that. I still tease and am silly. I want those things. I don’t want to be snippy Poppy. I want to be happy Poppy. I want to try to take the initiative in being the person I want to be.