little girl on her submissive soap box…

 Who you are outside the bedroom defines who you are in it…

Are you The Man or just another nice guy? Is she the one making all the demands? Are  you the one receiving her commands? Are you holding her accountable for her own responsibilities or are you picking up all the slack because she has dug her heels in while laughing “dance little monkey dance” when really she deserves her (little?) bottom reddened into her reality? Have you put her on a pedestal when you are the one who belongs on a podium? Do you bite your tongue as the words, “but honey, you are beautiful just the way you are” slips from your lips when what you truly want to declare is, “get your butt to the gym, there’s work to be done!” How is that serving her if you remain silent of your true wishes and desires? Afraid (cringe) that she will respond in her characteristic, boisterous, BSC voice that you so dread then retreat and she will likely withhold sex until you repent? (yuck) Backwards thinking and wrong action here fellas…

Be the leader, please do not conform. Take back what is yours and has been from the start, the power and control! What has you locked up, so stymied that you are reluctant to take charge as the Man? Fear?!?! of what? Complacency? Losing her? Finding your Manly voice? Been shamed for desires, wants and needs?  Please…

Stop giving her a false sense of security. If she hasn’t earned it, or she isn’t working towards a better her, then by all means, make her. If you ever want/hope to take her, own her and keep her, push her harder to be what you want. The Magic 8 Ball says, chances are good that she was delivered similar messages as you were her whole life. “Don’t have those thoughts. Don’t let a man run your life. Shame on you for this and that. You are the queen of the house. A happy wife makes a happy life”. Wrong. Change the tape…

Allow me to divulge in a little vulgarity from this little girl’s mouth; which comes (cums) first the cock or the pussy?  This is absolutely rhetorical as well it ought to be. Clearly the answer in my world is, His cock. As for His pussy, only when He says she can. His cock is worthy of worship and respect because my Daddy doesn’t think with His, isn’t controlled by it, but definitely knows what to do with it and that He is the Master of His domain and His little girl.

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Not all females are willing to be a submissive or even slightly submit to their man. That’s unfortunate for them. i also realize they may be trapped in control mode further hindering their ability to release it all to Him. You, the Man need to put your big, strong hand (uh hum)over her mouth and tell her to hush, it’s handled, whatever “it” is. Then by all means, follow through. She will no doubt protest time and time again, but if you are who and what God intended you to be, (not your mama, society or your fellow nice guys) then you will continue to take charge of your life. Your manhood depends upon it. It is time to redeem yourself as such.

What prompted these words of declaration were recent conversations my Daddy and i have had on this very topic in regards to what we have been witnessing in society as a whole. Allow this girl to reiterate yet again how feminism has clearly and sadly emasculated the men of our generation. Sweep up the eggshells you’ve been walking on and pour the concrete for your new foundation. Your woman will learn to desire and crave you and wonder what is happening to her. Be consistent…

Daddy and i have both swallowed that red pill and since then have discovered the depths of our core beliefs. Our mothers, grandmothers and women of days past have fucked up our men of today.

(refer to Rollo Tomassi http://therationalmale.com/ He is brilliant)

THIS——>

(http://theredpillroom.blogspot.com/2012/08/male-dominance-beginners-guide.html)

This girl will admit, there was some trepidation and intimidation while feeling a bit threatened by Rollo’s blog, along with others in the manosphere at the introduction of them. However, it wasn’t long after that the positive transitions and transformations she witnessed in her Sir were astounding. The resistance she once had to the idea initially were diminished while the Alpha within Him was emerging at an alarming rate. 

Daddy doesn’t demand the respect of His little girl, but He has it fully. He silently requires it and ultimately deserves every ounce of it. In return, i feel His adoration and protection shining through. Because of this, our D/s DD/lg relationship was born. Certainly not without a lot of examination, reevaluation, continuous conversations, including openness and honesty of expectations. All of which has brought Daddy to a whole new, higher level of control and i to a deeper level of obedience and submission.

 Overall this has been an exciting journey to date…

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I have but one life, I choose to keep it simple…

this moment

My beautiful, bad girl cat woke me about three to five times last night. Because of her, I lost critical sleep. Then, as the morning awakened me and my eyes reluctantly opened, suddenly life began to feel bigger. I asked myself, in the grand scheme of things, is it? The correct answer is no, only if I choose to let it be. This is when I recognize how important it is to keep it simple. Understand that I am tired now, a little irritable and just need to take extra care of myself today. So I gave myself permission to do just that.

As I lay here, fighting against getting up to start my day, I begin to reflect upon a phone call from my number two son last night. This young man has taken his place up on his throne that is dubbed “the pity pot”. It is not a learned behavior he witnessed in me, but it will be his undoing if he doesn’t man up and accept life on life’s terms. He is a nineteen year old father of a beautiful, two year old daughter. Recently, he and the mother ended their unhealthy relationship. Kudos to them for not prolong the pain. A lesson that was hard learned for me a mere seven years ago. I praised him for taking charge of this area of his life in order for it to be less complicated.

In the midst of our phone call, the Captain beeped in. I told my #2 I would call him back. Thank you Lord, I needed a breather from the rant that was on that end. What a beautiful sound of sexy, deep tones coming at me on the other line now. Just what I needed to hear. As I told him of my conversation, he asked what is it with these #2’s of ours.

Captain is watching his daughter go through some difficulties in her own relationship. He helps me with his manly, alpha wisdom when it come to my three sons. I know it is because he cares and understands what it is to have an unavailable father, just as my sons are lacking. He gave me many pearls to share when I called my son back. In short, it was to tell him, “this is his job, raising his daughter now and to man up about it”. Captain knows how much my son loves his daughter and what a dedicated father he is. It makes me burst with pride watching him with her. She truly is the love of his life.

If there is one thing I admire in this son of mine, it is that he has lived by his own mantra, “I got this”, usually followed by “mom”.  As I was talking with him and conveying the Captain’s direction to tell him to “man up and own his responsibility, this is his job now”. I was remembering all the accomplishments this son of mine had conquered in a short period of time. I took this opportunity now to remind him of these.

When he was just 10 credits shy of graduating with his class, he pulled out all the stops and made that happen. He knew he would need money to take care of his baby that was due one month after graduation, so he obtained a job and three months later, he had two. Next came the need for a driver’s license and a car, check, check. Finally, a place to call their very own. His daughter turned four months old and the three of them moved into their very own apartment.

When this young man sets out to do something, he gets it done. I have never been more proud of him. So when this same son called me in tears of frustration and what sounded like agony from remorse and resentments, I wanted to jump into mom mode and ease his breaking heart. Gratefully, I was quickly steered away from wanting to caudal him to becoming harsh by not allowing him to remain so emotional. Captain assured me it is what he needs and as always, he was right!

Because of the support I received, I was able to advise this son to stop engaging in conversations with his baby’s mom. That she clearly is just trying to bait and hook him because she is a scorned female. She is a screeching, blue pill young woman who learned from her mom how not to behave. Someone like that does not know how to exist unless there are toxic fumes fueling her drama filled head. Sad as it is, it is equally difficult to watch them go through this. Today I know, that in order for them to change the behavior, the pain must be increased. I promised this son that this too shall pass.

I am so blessed to have come to a place in my own life that I can weigh and measure things by asking myself, “how important is this”? Do I choose to complicate my life by owning other people’s shit? Certainly not, even when it belongs to my own child. Their lessons belong to them as do their consequences for all their actions. No one walked through my challenges for me and I came out the other side better for every single one. Something that is hard to see in the moment.

Each one of my sons knows and feels all the love I have in my heart for them. I tell them every chance I get. What’s more important is that I show them by taking care of myself as they witness my own healthy behavior these days. The rewards I receive as a mom is watching their lives unfold and then relish in the blessings they receive. It was pointed out to me some years ago that, when a son comes to his mom with the big stuff in his life, he feels secure because I am the safest place he knows and goes. I used to think that was a beautiful gesture. Now I worry that they will try to hold onto my apron strings that I am working hard at severing for their own growth.

cut the strings

It is time for me to get off of their backs, get out of their way, and get on with my own life…

The clubhouse…

little rascals there’s something to be said for this…

I don’t know what it was when I was little, but all I ever wanted to do was play like the boys. Maybe because I had two brothers. Perhaps I secretly wanted to know what made them tick or how they were wired. I was not a tomboy by any means, but I could toss the football, throw a baseball, played a mean fullback in soccer and raced on the swim team. All the while playing barbies, wearing dresses, not by choice, dabbled in makeup and wore mama’s high, high heels around the house.

At that young age, the boys tolerated me because they were my big brother’s friends. Then sometime in junior high boys started acting mean to me. Not all of them mind you, but the ones that obviously “liked” me. That’s the message I was told when one, Kevin something or other, left a stuffed animal (raccoon, I believe) on my doorstep and when I returned it to him, because I liked Gilbert, something or other, he punched me in the eye. I think that meant he wanted to marry me!

What was happening to me, I began to wonder. I watched my only three female role models, whom I loved and adored, (mom, aunt and grandma) interact with the men in their lives. I took mental notes and kept them etched on my brain as I grew up.

Mom was a beautiful teenager when she had my big brother and me. She even married dad, then divorced him when I was two. (abandonment issues begin) Grandma was a loving, doting wife. I wouldn’t classify her as feminist, but she teetered on the brink of it. Then there was my aunt, whom back then referred to themselves as stewardesses, a waitress in the sky. She took pride in her, “coffee, tea or me” oozing with sex attitude, but to you men, don’t you dare cross her! I think she is on her fourth marriage today, but who’s counting?

So what was this young girl to do? I looked to these three beautiful women and entered into my teenage years, loved by them all yet untrained and floundering. See, by 7 mom had remarried the asshole of the year, decade, no, lets just make that the century and call it good. By 10, they had a beautiful baby boy, a new little brother whom I absolutely love.  Who knew my mom’s drinking would become an addiction by my 13th birthday and I would continue to grow up learning, through observation and media dictation, about expectations on growing up female.

Next that left grandma for me to continue observing with a watchful eye. I adored my grandpa and thought they were the epitome of love and commitment. They’ve been gone awhile now, but I still hold that vision close to my heart. That may not be the reality, but who am I to mess with it. I’ll leave it where it is, framed in a golden heart forever.

So by now my aunt appears to be the coolest chick on the planet to any young teen girl. How could she not? She was what all the magazines and t.v. commercials told me I needed to resemble and since I had my very own live Barbie doll with an attitude to look up to, that’s just what I did.

Back to my mom for a moment. I loved her with all my heart. We were as close as any mother and daughter could be, until that abusive man continued to ruin the most beautiful lady I had ever known. Today I can look back and sort of realize his frustration with her alcoholism, but I truly loathe that man, so no compassion goes to him. Mom only lived until the age of 41. The year that followed was the most difficult year of my life. That story is another blog all in itself. One worth taking my time on…

By the time I was 20, I met the “man” I would marry, have three sons with and seven years ago, happily divorce. Yes, I quit trying to hang out in the boys clubhouse long before that, but I still tried to figure out their hard wiring. Because of my own fucked up messages from my childhood and lack of direction on how to be a lady, wife or straight up female, I had to wing it. Sex was my best tool and the only means possible, so I thought, to entice and keep a man. Who knew they would come and go as they please regardless. Huh…

Some would say I was blessed with a “pretty face” and a decent body, that I literally work my ass off for today. After all, that is what society has always told me, that the only thing that mattered was how the garden looked, not how rich the soil is.

The message yet again, I didn’t need to work hard, get a higher education and be self-supporting, so I could boost my own confidence and self-esteem. A man would be all I needed to do that for me. That was the hardest, bluest pill = (blissful ignorance of illusion) I ever swallowed.

I was always caught between wanting an alpha and being cursed with a beta. Problem was, I didn’t recognize it when they were served up on a piping hot platter of  bullshit and false bravado. They were all the same to me. One day I thought, maybe it was the broken parts of me all along. This is not a self-pity thing, more of facing my own reality checkpoint. How much of my upbringing and misguided learning had I brought to the table in my relationships loaded with expectations that when they weren’t met, I would raise the bar. How many hoops will he jump through? Gross, revolt, YUK!! REBUKE!!

This epiphany did not emerge over night. It took several flushes of the blue pill and many refills of the red pill = (embracing the sometimes painful truth of reality) to embark on this beautiful transformation I have willingly entered into. I thank God for recovery of self discovery. I have learned about the true nature of submission, obedience and respect. The gifts that dove tail are adoration, honor and love.

Sometimes there is just a lot inside this girly brain when she has two claws on the wheel and two dug into the ground and the only way to climb back down is to rant!

no girls... there’s a reason for this sign…RESPECT IT!

Surrender to it all…

obey.jpg

It’s funny where I find my inspiration to write. I don’t necessarily put everything into this particular blog, but eventually I imagine it will appear here.

I’ve been really thinking about this word, “obedience”  lately. Once upon a time this word eluded my vocabulary. I would have to peg that to the asshole step father I grew up despising. His meek attempts to control and rule the family were nowhere near being a leader, but rather a bully that was just short of beating us into submission.

So, as it turns out, I married the opposite, a BETA through and through! I figured I would be safe in this choice and would never be subjected to cruel, overt, male behavior ever again. What I didn’t know way back then, is how much I would loathe this behavior too.

The results were, I became an alpha/beta type female, disguised as a feminist with my insides screaming out, I want to be a feminine girl, that longs to be taken care of and adored! Won’t someone just let me?! Truth be told, after my divorce from an 18 year marriage 7 years ago, I wouldn’t allow any man close enough to give them the opportunity. Fear was the driving force, invisible was my stance. Sure, I dated a petite handful of…’men’, only to find again and again, one extreme or the other. YUK~

One day this handsome man crossed my path, me being me, skeptical and playing the invisible card still, chose not to notice the attention he was blatantly pouring over me. Over the next several months, this man continued to show up in my life. I wasn’t being a bitch by any means, in fact, that is just not in my nature. I simply was scared. With this “broken picker” I had deemed myself to possess, I made feeble attempts to ward him off, keep him at arm’s length all the while I was becoming attracted to him and his charm.

Less than 3 months had gone by and I found myself asking him to coffee and then saying yes to dinner. We became fast friends, another foreign concept to me that I would find out later, is ALWAYS a pretense to the man just wanting to get laid. No one could ever consider me a prude by any means, but at this time in my life, I had come to the realization that my old ways to “get a guy” was to immediately screw him and there I went, lost forever. Pathetic!

After a year of back and forth in our dating cycle, we both realized how close we truly were becoming. It was refreshing yet at the same time, scaring the hell out of me. I think it was having the same effect on him as he was still attempting to escape the wrath of his past hamster, forever shit testing, long-term bitch companion that continued to have power over him. It was painful to watch, but one day, he choked and swallowed the little red pill, and his manhood has never been the same.

That was nearly a year ago and since that time, he had led me down the same path as a true alpha does. I willingly swallowed the little red pill, in fact I have a lifetime prescription!  It was exactly what I had been starving for since I was a little girl. I had watched with a distorted view, my grandma and mom muddle through their lives confused by who had the penis in the house and then wondered why they were frustrated when they tried to make most of the decisions. Hmmmm….

So back to the word at hand, “obedience”…’the act or practice of following instructions, complying with rules or regulations, or submitting to somebody’s authority’. Who knew that once I embraced not only the word, but the act itself, my life would begin to make sense. I’ll tell you who knew, God. Clearly He sent the Captain of my life to me to straighten up my thinking and show me what respecting the Captain births for his F.O.

Captain has taught me so much through his actions from his reborn Alpha male ways. His stance is tall and proud while his frame never falters. In fact, he is so stern with me, I wouldn’t dare be anything short of submissive and obedient. I welcome his reprimanding, whatever form he sees fit.