Didn't Have to Beg :)

Ended up I didn't have to beg! Hicks...maybe he read this blog, but more likely he just sensed that something in me wanted some severe action and that's exactly what I got. I think I've mentioned before that Hicks is big, but my goodness, he seems twice as big when he's drilling my tiny little a-hole. Owch! (but in a good way). I love when he just takes me and does what he wants with me. He calls it "tossing me around". We both love it.

After I got my long-delayed reaming, things seemed to float into an easy, simplified state with us. My birthday came around and he made me feel so wonderful I started crying and blubbered "You really do want this to last forever, don't you?" Things seemed so perfect.

I don't know what happened next. I started feeling really scared to do my chores, because it seemed like nothing I did was quite up to his standards. His anger started coming out in unhealthy ways. I tried to get him to discipline me formally, but that didn't seem to appeal to him any more. He was too lost in his internalized anger.

It all came to a head when I'd had a bad day with my illness and I had reached my limit. I called him and told him I wouldn't be able to finish my chores and that I needed to just be alone in a dark room for the night. He, as usual, was kind and understanding.

But when he got home, practically the first words out of his mouth were an order to do a physical chore. I was too burnt out to be respectful. I just gave him a defiant look, closed my eyes, shook my head and said "No way."
"Then we're doing it together, because I need it done", he said.
"NO. There's no way. You don't need it done that bad. Sorry."
"THEN WE'RE DOING IT AT 4:00am TOMORROW!", he said, getting angry.
"We''ll be too tired! There's no reason! It's impossible to get it done before work!", I whined

I don't know what happened next, but he left the room and there followed a series of foundation-shaking impacts to the house. I thought he might have gone outside and hit the house with a large piece of farm equipment.

Usually he doesn't scare me (I am more afraid of making small-talk at the grocery store than I am of angry outbursts) Usually, in these situations, I just give as good as I get. But this was too much after such a long day. And he had never actually physically broken anything before. I retreated into what I think of as "my" room, where, I thought, if he had just left me alone, none of this would have happened, and I closed the door, bracing it with my body and shaking like a leaf. I was so shocked I didn't know what to do but hide. So I hid under the blankets and hoped he would stay away from me.

I heard not a single sound for two hours. Finally, I ventured out. I thought he must have left the house and I wanted to see if there was any damage to the house. I was terrified and, for the first time in our relationship, I didn't know what to do. I walked toward where I'd heard the banging and I heard that hiccupping, snuffling kind of sound that someone who's cried themselves dry makes.

I felt so bad for him and so bad for me and so horrified for us. I had no idea how we would talk to each other after what had happened.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks

Begging

I've decided that tonight is the night. Tonight I am going to ask Hicks to make a list of what needs to be done every day before he gets home. I will ask him to outline the consequences I'll face if I fail to finish the tasks he gives me. I will ask that he keep track of my failings and discipline me, without exception, according to our agreement. I will ask that one night per week be devoted to the kind of sex he keeps threatening me with. I will also ask him to acknowledge that my ultimate goal in life is to become his joyful little fucktoy and I will beg him to help me, through discipline and guidance, to please him more so that we'll both get more of what we want from this relationship.

I don't think this will go very well. But I am going to try it anyway.

Fresh Muffins

I met Corporal Hicks on a well-known, soft-core, alternative porn site. The site is famous for displaying very fresh young things. When Hicks and I first started talking, I figured I wasn't his type - most of the girls he was chatting up were younger than 20 and I was 26. These girls were all also of a completely different body type than me. When I finally met Hicks in person though, I guess my feminine wiles made up for my age, and he was immediately attracted to me. His fascination with jailbait hasn't wained, but I am not threatened by it. After all, most girls that catch his eye catch mine too! Ha ha.

So, the other day, he opened a package he'd gotten in the mail and lo and behold - it was full of porn of the "Just turned 18" type. While a girl doesn't have to be young to turn me on, I do enjoy the power dynamic in the films he bought. I love imagining that I am the little young thing getting tossed around and used - although I must say I much prefer Corporal Hicks to any of the guys I see in porn films. None of them have his charisma or his hot, Scotsman's physique.

He was feeling particularly tired and down the other day and I was trying very hard to coax him into a good mood. Changing his mood is no small feat, both because he's quite stubborn (as am I) and because it's hard to get him to ask for what he wants. Finally I offered to suck his cock while he watched his new porn. That did the trick.

I just wish he would've ordered me to do it, instead of me having had to offer and guess and beguile. I feel like I am in more control of our sex life than he is, and that is difficult for me. I yearn daily for more domination in our household. He feels guilty, though, I think, telling me what to do, because I am sick and we do have that to deal with. I think that with the right amount of negotiation, we could work around my illness effectively, but so far, no such luck.

I am careful what I wish for though because when I do get ordered to do something, it isn't sexy at all. It's "do the dishes". If I don't do them, just hoping I'll get a spanking with a spatula, or maybe a stern talking to, he just ignores my naughtiness and the dishes go unwashed. I guess he is just too tired to deal with an uppity little slut like me.

During the day, I like to fantasize that when he got home and things weren't exactly the way he wanted, he would take me by the hair and show me what needed to be changed, then give me ten good whacks over his knee for each of the things I did wrong. What motivation that would be! How proud and happy I would be on the days I got things right!

I feel sad. He seems so into the idea of dominating me, and he threatens me daily with spankings, with being tied up, being anally raped, being used as "just a bunch of holes", with choking me with his cum...but the handcuffs I bought when he and I got together, the switch I got for him to use on me when I was out of line, the dildos I'd hoped he'd use to fulfill his fantasy of jamming all my holes full at once, all of them have gone completely unused.

My desires don't go totally unfulfilled. I submit to him every day in many ways, simply because I am a submissive and I can't help but clean up after him and such, and that does give me a little thrill here and there. When I don't get what I want sexually (to be spanked, to have my hair pulled, to kneel and be disciplined so that I can blossom into his ultimate fucktoy) I just try to be a good girl and remind myself that even though leaving the three-foot high pile of newspapers in the middle of the kitchen table untouched isn't my idea of a good night's kink, it is still giving the master what he wants. And there will always be some satisfaction in that.

Still Sick and Now Not Speaking to Each Other

Corporal Hicks is the declared cook in our house. This is not only because I have little experience in the kitchen, but because he is a badass in the kitchen. In fact, during the holiday season, we have to turn the kitchen into a factory in order to meet the demands of his friends and family for his tasty treats. He loves to cook for people because he loves to take care of people and, especially in his family and his culture, food=love. He and I have different tastes though. I was brought up eating a combination of mild midwestern and Swedish recipes: very carb, sugar, and fat-heavy stuff. He was brought up in a sugar-free household, eating protein-rich, low-fat, spiced foods. So he handed me his pile of cookbooks one day and told me to go through and mark the recipes that I thought I'd like. I had a really hard time doing that though. I kept putting it off because I feel like he already gives me so much - a home, clothes, art supplies, medical care, the list goes on - everything a person could ever ask for. I didn't want to ask him to go out of his way to make things for me. Eventually though, after much encouragement, he got me to sit down and tell him what I wanted.

But things haven't really worked out the way either of us thought they would. For example, Hicks was really excited to make me a birthday cake. I was excited too, because none of my boyfriend's has ever made me a cake. And since it was my birthday, I didn't have too hard a time telling Hicks exactly what kind of cake I'd always wanted ;) (mild, white, fluffy, and from a box, with lots of my uncle's special dark-chocolate frosting). But, surprisingly, Hicks responded by becoming deflated. He didn't want to make my kind of cake. He'd been looking forward to making one of his favorite dense, spicy recipes for me. I think he was hurt that I hadn't asked for one of his cakes. I was sad. Not only had I upset him, but it was my birthday and I felt like it was the one day when it was okay for me to ask for things to be my way. I told him "Why don't you just make both - then we'll both be happy and I'm sure I'll eat them up in a hurry because you are the best cook ever." I'm not sure why, but he didn't make either cake and I ended up feeling like it he was mad at me, so I just didn't bring it up again.

Well, the same sort of thing happened last night, but it ended up in this terrible fight. First of all, I am really sick with the flu, so I am tired and cranky and after a few days of not being able to eat anything at all, I am starving and I want comfort food. Hicks and I had chosen two of my favorite things (his macaroni and cheese casserole recipe! Thai stew from his cookbook! Yum!) to make for dinner this week and I was really excited to get some into my tummy. When he got home from work, he came into my room and said he'd start the mac and cheese. I could tell he was tired, so I said "only do it if you really have the energy, babe."
"No, no I want to do it" he said.

An hour and a half later, my stomach growling, I got off the couch with the idea that dinner was taking longer than he'd thought it would, so I figured I'd go into the kitchen to give him a back-rub while we waited for it to be ready. I found him standing at the counter eating something he'd heated up in the microwave. "How come you didn't come let me know you'd decided not to make mac and cheese? I thought we were going to eat together..." I said. I don't know what happened after that except it involved me trying to explain to him that I just didn't understand, and him trying to explain to me that I was being passive-aggressive and mean. The fight ended when he told me very emphatically to "just SHUT UP!" and I shut up and went back to my room, my appetite completely gone, feeling woozy and more hurt than I can describe here.

This is one of those times when I just...I feel like I'm a failure at relationships and no matter what I do or how hard I try to do what the other person wants, I can't make it work. I honestly don't see what I did wrong last night and I honestly don't know what in the world I could do to make it right.

Sick

I'm really sick with an infection right now and so I can't really get my thoughts together to post anything worthwhile. I do think that my illness is due to the huge amount of stress I'm dealing with because of problems between Corporal Hicks and I. I am trying very hard with him and getting nowhere. I feel very much trapped, like no matter what I do, I still get everything wrong. I feel like I'll never be able to meet his needs - and as long as he is unhappy, I am unhappy.

Never a break

Today we had to shop for a couch.

Sexy, no?

The thing is, whether I'm worshiping his cock or following him into the "Living Room and Media Storage" section, I am always a submissive. I am always, by nature and without my having to think about it, there for him. I don't always get it right. I am not always able to guess how he'd like me to respond. I'm not always in the same mood as he is. And we have very different personalities and tastes. But I found our trip to the furniture store to be quite like having sex - once I started to watch him carefully and closely, searching for signs of what he needed, of what I could do to make the trip as easy as possible for him, we really started to have a good time. When I started thinking about myself and my own needs too much, he shut me up very quickly. His reprimand had the effect of calming me down. Once I was able to fall into step with him, we both got what we wanted. And when we were finished, we were both so tired that we could barely focus our eyes, we had found common ground, and we were happy with how things had turned out.

I think the calm that follows his outbursts is due to the fact that he states what he wants and needs very clearly when he is peeved. And there is nothing I like better than to have a clear idea of what he wants and needs.

I just wish we could skip the peeved part, as that is never pleasant. I know he hates getting pissy with me and he can't know how much I hate it when I make him mad.

I am working soooooo hard at getting better at reading him, at giving him what he wants before he even has to ask for it. But I guess that takes time. And hopefully he'll give me a lifetime to get it right.

We fell right to sleep when we got home. There has been no more talk of buttraping or logjamming since his threat the other day and I am starting to relax again. I'm sure it will happen though - probably when I least expect it and am least prepared for it. Keeping me on my toes is part of his job and he does it well.