Journey Into Submission

a bdsm love journal

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I will bring the pink flowers back in a few days but the ones up there now are special.

The stunning Casablanca lilies you see before you are sitting in my kitchen right now. They are the ones Tucker gave me for Valentine’s Day. I took the photo this afternoon, against the backdrop of the shirt I got him as a gift, and decided to share it with you for a while.

I will write more about our Valentine’s evening in a bit but for right now I think a picture is worth a thousand words.


If all goes as expected Tucker is planning for me to meet his parents in a little over a month.

(I fell asleep last night trying to come up with a pseudonymous surname for Tucker and his family but the inspiration actually hit this morning. I will call them the Kershaws – a name having absolutely nothing to do with their real identity and everything to do with Tucker’s passion for knives.)

Mr and Mrs Kershaw already know of my existence. Tucker has talked to them about me and I actually met Mr Kershaw briefly a few weeks ago when he unexpectedly stopped by Tucker’s house one evening but that was nothing more than a hi, bye, nice to meet you kind of thing. Next month will be the real deal. Several hours spent in conversation, acting on my best behavior, trying to hopefully win them over as much as I have won Tucker over.

When Tucker told his parents about me he wasn’t so much concerned about what they would think of me as a person but what they might think of the fact that I am ten years older than him, divorced, and the mother of two young children. His parents have been married for somewhere in the vicinity of three decades and, from what Tucker has told me, seem to be rather conservative and perhaps even old-fashioned. I’m pretty sure I don’t fit their vision of the ideal girl for their son but when Tucker talked about me his mother assured him that she trusts his judgment and only wants him to be happy, regardless of my former marital status.

Most of the time when we are together I address Tucker as Sir. He has quite clearly told me that I can not and will not do this in front of his parents. It would invite a whole host of questions all of us would be more comfortable ignoring and expose more of our lifestyle than is really necessary, especially considering that they are his parents.

It will be challenging to watch my p’s and q’s, as it were, considering any time Tucker calls me by my name or give a direct order I respond with Sir.

“Gray, did I remember to lock the front door?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Gray, bring me my boots.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Gray, where is the remote control?”

“On the windowsill, Sir.”

“Gray, are there any bagels left?”

“No, Sir.”

And so it goes. Tucker may well have to avoid calling me by name to prevent me inadvertently slipping in a bit of protocol, or he may just have to keep me within arms reach so I never have to speak above a whisper when responding to him.

I think Tucker is aware of which mannerisms of his induce a more submissive and formalized response from me and can alter his mode of interacting with me for the best results. I also tend to be very quiet when faced with unfamiliar and potentially important people so that may work somewhat in our favor in this situation. Hiding behind Tucker has become my refuge when I am feeling uncomfortable or insecure so I’m just hoping he lets me continue this when faced with his parents. Impressing the elder Kershaws is rather high on my priority list and having to explain why I call their son Sir probably wouldn’t further my cause much.


Can someone please tell me what brand of shoes Carrie Underwood wore during her Super Bowl performance last week?

I cannot find them anywhere and I’m getting a little obsessed with the quest. I have a serious shoe fetish, especially platforms with big heels like hers, and have yet to find a pair of white ones I really like. The ones she wore looked ridiculously huge on her but I’m willing to bet getting half a size smaller would have made them look super cute.

Tucker laughs at my passion for shoes. He caught a glimpse of the closet where I store my shoes and has mentioned several times the array of boxes he saw displayed there. I keep reminding him he only saw about half of my collection and he just rolls his eyes. He does not, however, complain when I wear a pair of my four inch platform heels and I’m suddenly tall enough that he can kiss me without having to bend over at the waist.

Two Step

Tucker touched his lips to my forehead.

“You want to get out of here?” he whispered.

“You’re driving, doesn’t matter to me,” I said, leaning into his chest.

He motioned for me to get dressed and started packing up his bag. The party had grown old and we just needed to be alone together. He was done flogging me, I was done socializing. No reason to stay.

“You can wrap up in the blanket if you want,” he said, handing me the fuzzy blue blanket. I wrapped it around my shoulders and took his arm. He led me through the social area and out to his car. I was floating happily, warm and safe next to him despite the chill evening air. He made sure I was tucked in before we started back toward my house.

Tucker clicked through several songs on the stereo before landing on one he seemed to like. I listened with my eyes closed.

“Two Step”
Performed by The Dave Matthews Band

Say, my love, I came to you with best intentions
You laid down and gave to me just what I’m seeking
Love, you drive me to distraction
Hey my love do you believe that we might last a thousand years
Or more if not for this,
Our flesh and blood
It ties you and me right up
Tie me down

Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
We’re climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue
These things we cannot change

Hey, my love, you came to me like wine comes to this mouth
Grown tired of water all the time
You quench my heart and you quench my mind

Celebrate we will
Because life is short but
Sweet for certain
We’re climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue
The things we cannot
Celebrate, you and me, climbing two by two, to be sure
These days continue, things we cannot change

Oh, my love I came to you
With best intentions
You laid down and gave to me
Just what I’m seeking

Celebrate we will
Because life is short
But sweet for certain
We’re climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue
Things we cannot change…
Things we cannot change…


I’m not sure how to put this delicately…

I got a new piercing.

Down there.

Yes, I finally did it. I’ve been thinking about getting a genital piercing for several years – I remember several conversations with Chris about it – but I never made it to the right time and place with my desire intact.

When I asked Tucker his opinion on body modifications his enthusiastic response got me thinking once again. When I asked if he would go with me for moral support and he agreed I started really considering it. When he started teasing me about it and working it into our more erotic moments I knew I had to do it.

I decided to get a vertical clit hood piercing – probably the most popular and quickest healing of all female genital piercings. It is a barbell that literally goes through that little peak of skin over the clit. It is highly rumored to enhance the pleasure of sexual interactions

The actual piercing hurt like a motherfucker. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word before but it is most apt in this situation. Then it stopped hurting, like thirty seconds later, and everything has been fine ever since. Tucker and I had sex three days later and that delay was due only to the timing of the piercing and our scheduled time together. It hurt a bit for the first week, was a little sensitive for the next week, and hasn’t bothered me at all this last week.

I liken the whole experience (minus the absolutely true sexual enhancement part) to having a baby. For the first little while after childbirth the whole experience seems horribly painful and never to be repeated. But soon enough, the shock and the degree of severity of the pain fade away and it seems like a pretty good idea again. I’m not saying I will ever get anything else pierced, but some of the trauma has eroded and I can enjoy the benefits of the piercing without having to relive those few seconds of hating the world and the piercer.

The fact that Tucker got a vicarious thrill out of watching some random woman inflict pain on me also gave me a better understanding of who he is as a sadist. I already knew that he really likes hurting me on his own but somehow knowing that he just likes pain in general endears him to me that little bit more. Such a strange thing to come out that short bit of time, but then again the whole experience itself was just a little surreal. It’s a good thing I’m used to being mostly naked and hurt or I never would have found the courage to go through with it.

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