Growing

A while ago, i posted a blog encouraging folks to ask us questions, and we did have Florida Dom who came by and left us a slew of questions that need answering, so i thought i'd get a start on answering a few of the questions we were left.

-- Are you planning on taking things to a new level each time she gets accustomed to one level?

Master and i strive for growth. It is our intention to never allow for complacency in our relationship. In our eight years of marriage, protocols have been increased, scenes have intensified, and rules have changed. It seems that as soon as i am able to wrap my head around a change, be it verbal requirement or no longer being allowed to use furniture without permission, there is something new added to our interactions.

When we used to visit family, that was the one time it seemed i could get away with...well...being a bit of a brat (though i might pay for it later, depending upon his mood). Now when we visit family, rules still apply, i have to ask Him for permission for a drink, the ability to use the bathroom, and the like, though it probably hasn't been noticed.

--How tall are each of you and what do you weigh and what are her measurements?

i'll let Master answer His part in His way... i am 5'5, weigh more than i'd like at 175, my bra size is 36D, my waist is 35 inches 'round and my hips are 40 inches.

--Why don't you post pictures on your site as well as Fetlife?

Master and i have talked about this ─ and while we may post pictures here in the future ─ for now, we enjoy the fact that FetLife's pages aren't crawled by search engines, like our blog is.

--Do you do tit bondage until they turn purple?

Not recently. (pout)

--Does she have any piercings? If not do you plan some?

Right now, no. i've even let my plain old ear peircings close. However, Master has said that He has interest in some peircings, so we'll see where that goes.

Abiding realities

There's been BDSM bloggers (peruse our blogroll for "Under His Hand" and "The Journey") lately pondering whether or not the Master/slave relationships are merely an illusion. So many of us view our status as the slave or the Master as a permanent and unbreakable aspect of our relationships. So we strive to build lasting M/s relationships. But sometimes, even those lasting relationships face the loss of the M/s dynamic.

Sure, there are slaves being uncollared all the time, Masters walking away from their slaves, slaves walking away from their Masters, out to find someone more compatable. Rarely we see or hear about the M/s relationships that have become something more complex, where niether party wants to walk away from the other, but something keeps them from continuing in a M/s relationship.

And that leaves two people, whispering in the dark, trying to work out how to relate to each other.

my heart goes out to those who experience this... It terrifies me, too, as several times, Master and i have been trecherously close to throwing out the M/s aspects of our relationship permanently. Yet, what we have together is a long established friendship and abiding love. Neither of us can entertain the thought of parting ways, and yet, we know learning to relate to each other in a vanilla envrionment could very well be the scariest thing that we have faced in our lives. In thinking about this subject, my favorite Oscar Wilde quote comes to mind: "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself."

All this talk comes down to the fact that each and every one of us, regardless of the length of time we have been involved in a Master and slave (or take your pick of terms) relationship, will always be individuals, doing our best to live together in harmony and sometimes, that just isn't possible. "Real life" and, by that, i mean outside forces, will muck up our best laid plans, and force us to places we never thought we'd go. Sometimes, a step back is something we have to do.

Once, four years into being my Master's girl and three years into being His wife, i essentially ran away from Him. i left our home, i left the city we lived in and the reach of His collar. At that point, i had never truly tasted independance. i had never lived on my own, outside of a home with family or with my Master. Six months later, He left the same to be where i was, because i'd learned something. i loved Him more than independance, i loved being with Him, being part of Him and my soul grew sick with longing without Him and without belonging to Him. That "step back" made me realize that the things i thought were important weren't, and what really mattered...

This post has been a bit of a ramble, but my point is, Master and slave relationships are kinky fun but once you throw deep, soul-connected, time-tested love into the mix it becomes a different creature entirely. Not only has the kink enticed us but the love has suffused every aspect of our roles bringing us to a point where they can't be used as a weapon for manipulation nor something that we throw away without a thought for the rest of our lives. The "playtime" M/s is over once love weaves its way throughout the dynamic and whether we mean it to or not, i think a part of us will always identify as the role we assumed inside that M/s relationship.

One final thought: may those special relationships infused with love, when "real life" requires them to step away from the M/s dynamic, abide with love.

Deep Considerations...

A while ago I came across a profile on Fetlife that really got my attention. As with most things that catch my attention, it got me to thinking. This woman was happily married to a man whom just recently, thanks to her, discovered his dominant side. In addition to her husband, she also had a Master, someone whom she trusted and submitted to completely.


This really struck me as singular. Sure, I have encountered happily married men who might have a male Master on the side, or a woman with many lovers and maybe more than one Dom/Domme. But to find a woman with both a Dominant husband and a Master! She clarified in her profile that her husband was not her Dom, that he was just her husband and that she had submitted completely to her actual Master.

How interesting, and it got me thinking with regard to my slave. I am such a dominant personality, in nearly everything I do and in the way I approach work, projects, my art, my marriage, etc. My slave has belonged to me for about ten years now and in a few months W/we will be celebrating our eighth year of marriage. This means that she has been my slave longer than she has my wife. So, is it possible that I have never really lived a married life? Has it always been a marriage in name only? Has our relationship been so focused upon my ownership of my slave wife that she has always been more of my slave than my wife?


Don't get me wrong, I see nothing bad or unacceptable or troublesome with that. Nor do I want to seem disparaging toward that lady and her different husband and Master. In truth I find that quite erotic and exciting. But if faced with the same situation, my wife enslaved by another man while I my self am a Dom. I don't know about that one. Perhaps some of you can see my dilemma here. Could you, as a dominant, comfortably and happily be married to a submissive who is enslaved to someone else but not you? Truly it makes my head spin and it makes me wonder if I have ever really allowed myself to consider my slave as anything other than my slave.


What are your thoughts about a relationship such as this? Could you do it, either as the Dom or the slave?

Choice less...

The focus for my slave's training as of late has been on the choice less nature of being a slave. How the lack of any personal will is less accurate in relation to a consensual slave than the knowledge that she does not get a choice in the actions that are dictated to her. Very few of us are looking for a doormat. Strong willed, opinionated subjects make for far more interesting slaves. The difference is in accepting that, thought willful and opinionated, they have absolutely no choice in their obedience and submission to their Masters. A perfect example of this and a training tool that I used just this evening follows:


My slave approached me and requested my permission to use the restroom to pee. With a rather evil smile on my face, I told her that she could indeed pee, but she would need to get a cup from the kitchen. She retrieved the last of the plastic cups we use for company and returned to the front room where I was waiting for her. I could tell that she had a pretty good idea what I wanted from her and also that I knew just how much she had a problem with it. My pet asked if she could use the bathtub, but I instead told her to squat down on the tile floor that serves as our tiny little foyer.


Blushing, but trying very hard to be obedient, she pulled down her pants, squatted right in front of our front door, and pissed in the cup. I could see her struggling with the embarrassment and humiliation that I was subjecting her to, particularly when a small stream began to run down her leg to her pants. When she was finished, the real anger began to show. My slave quickly expressed how upset it made her to pee on herself like that, ruining one of the last clean pairs of pants, and how she had told me that it was not going work well to begin with.


Now, at this point I knelt her down at my feet and explained to her that she didn't have a choice in the matter. Whether or not she enjoyed or particularly liked the task I had assigned to her, she had no choice but to do it. Further, that the only thing at all she had any control over was how she went about doing it. It was up to her whether or not she was going to complete whatever task with the humility, poise, and composure that I expect from my slave, or whether she was going to pitch a fit and make things much worse for herself. I went on to explain that the small humiliation she had just suffered was nothing at all and that it could always be worse. I asked her whether or not I had made her smell it, to which she snapped yes! I asked her again, did I make her place the cup under her nose and take a deep breath? No, she said, her head down.


I then made her go retrieve the cup full of her acrid piss. When she returned to her knees at my feet I told her to put the cup under her nose and breath it in. With tears in her eyes, she obeyed. The cup slowly found its place just under her nose and she took a long slow breath. I reminded her again that she had no choice in the matter and that if I wanted her to drink it, she would one way or another. Poise, composure, grace, humility, gratitude; these are the things I expect from my slave. I then ordered her to taste her piss.


Despite the anger and fear in her eyes hiding behind the falling tears, my little slave did as she was told. Slowly the cup reached her lips and without much hesitation she took a sip. Impressively, my little slut held her piss in her mouth for over ten seconds before finally spitting it back into the cup, gagging. More tears escaped her angry eyes as I smiled into her glare. I corrected her posture so that her head was not tilted downward in such a scowl and asked her what she had learned. "slave has no choice, Master," she said. Good, she is finally learning. I told her that it could still be worse and I could very easily watch her drink the whole cup down. I ordered her to compose herself and be grateful for the attention and that I hadn't yet ordered her to drink the rest. Slowly it sunk in and my slave did regain her composure.


I pulled her close and stroked her hair, telling her that she had no right to make judgments about things. I was not interested in her disgust, only her obedience. I added that if I were willing to do something, like taste her piss, then she most certainly could not refrain. I explained that there are even some hardcore health nuts that actually drink their own piss as part of an extreme health regiment, that they recommend it. Finally, much to her relief, I ordered her to dump and toss the cup, wash her mouth out, and return to me so that we could eat our dinner.


Following the meal and a little play in the front room, we retreated into the bedroom. Having been naughty and used a word forbidden to her a number of times in the previous days, I had her lie across the bed in anticipation of a paddling. Already forgetting that things could always be worse, I asked if she was ready and she snapped that she wasn't. Here I am, about to beat her ass for one misbehavior anyway, and she's getting mouthy. I asked her why she wasn't ready and she told me that she figured that I was about to use the nastiest of the paddles we have. A real heavy duty little number with a metal inlay, about two inches wide, and made from rubber. A truly masochistic friend of my slave who had previously bragged that she had taken a hog bat across the ass a couple of times and didn't even flinch, once begged me to stop beating her ass after just three hits from this little baddie. It leaves impressive marks, guaranteed.


At any rate, holding the "nice" paddle in hand, I informed her that I was now going to use the evil paddle since she had bitched about it. My slave squealed and begged for me not to use that one and I reminded her again that she should be grateful and not bitch about things as they could most definitely get worse for her. Settling, she apologized for her remarks and begged to be punished. I informed her that I would be doubling the punishment and ordered her to count. After ten swats, I told her the punishment for the word use was over. Now I was about to begin the punishment for her behavior. The next ten strokes I put more power into, making her jump and squirm and cry with each hit. When she complained I was making it harder on the second set I reminded her that this was the "nice" paddle, as she called it, and that I could still get the other one. My pet chose to finish out the remainder of the punishment with the nice paddle. When finished, I asked her if she had learned her lesson and what it meant. My slave said that she understood that she was to display poise, grace, and composure, she was suppose to be grateful, and most importantly that she didn't have any choice in the matter. I instructed her to kiss the "nice" paddle in gratitude and she obeyed quickly and eagerly.


Such a good girl I have, and such poignant lessons. Gratitude, humility, poise, composure; even in the face of things she does not like, even those its fair to say she hates. She has no choice, at all, ever. She can only effect how she submits and obeys and she should always remember, it could be so, so much worse...

Forwards or backward?

We have been very quiet here. Not that things have been especially quiet with us, but none of it has made it to even the multitudes of drafts piling in our dashboard. Not to say that we've been having a BDSM free-for-all either, but, there have been some very intense scenes we have shared...

Why have i not written sooner? Because there is a lot of turmoil in me right now, and it has made me hold every moment we have stolen together, every scene we've shared, every "i love you, girl" that has fallen from His lips, very close to my heart. i have pulled myself behind a wall, and have been treasuring those moments, privately, unwilling to share.

In sharing, i have to reveal my turmoil, my struggle, and i am not sure i am ready for that. In fact, i am saving this as a draft, for my Master to review and publish at His discretion.

i fight Him, at every turn, at every movement forward on our path, and He often asks me "Do you really want to be My slave? Is this really what you want?" He has voiced the paradoxical question frequently, at every outburst, at every struggle that i present to Him, offering the one without choice a choice...

i do, despite my strong will, independent nature and other random issues, desire to belong completely to my Master. Yet, after coming so far, and evolving as much as we have ─ even entering a period where roles and orders weren't often challenged by poor behavior on my part ─ looking at where i am and my inner turmoil, i am disgusted.

Strangely, i know i am far better off than i was at the beginning of our forays into our Master and slave relationship. i know i have made progress, but i cannot help but be annoyed, disheartened, sorrowful, flat-out pissed, morose, enraged and disgusted by my behavior which brings Master to ask me that question.

For Master, there is no in between. He sees Himself always as a Master, one with a strikingly dominant personality. i too, see this in Him ─ He is dominant, desiring control and, from time to time, quite domineering. For me, there is no in between either. i have shed the skin of myself that can live without a Master and slave dynamic, i cannot imagine stripping our lives of BDSM, and the idea of such a life horrifies me...

Yet this turmoil prevents me from relaxing my grip on my perceived reality, keeps me trying desperately to hold on to what i cannot grasp and hinders forward progress on the path that Master has set before me...

i suppose, in time, in talking with Master, i will find my way around it, but the answer to the paradoxical question remains the same: i want nothing more than to be my Master's willing slave...

i know you're out there...

Somewhere. (Anybody recognize that?)

i know we have some semi-regular visitors nowadays. i also know that people are curious creatures.

So. Because my Master would like to know that you're out there, and because i know you're out there, i'm going to say... Ask questions. What have we not blogged about that you must know? Nothing is too inane, silly, random...

We'll answer them. Promise. Questions can be directed at one or both of us, and we'll copy 'em into a post, and start answering.

Who's first?

Assignments: Submission

Recently, with all of the upheval in our lives outside of Master's home, He has been trying to give me something each week to occupy my mind, to ground me and force me to really examine aspects of myself. In short, Master has been giving me more frequent writing assignments, which i am grateful for.

He's also been discussing giving me artistic assignments as well, though that is another subject for another time, perhaps.

The most recent assignment was an essay on submission, what it means to me, what i think about it, why i do it, what makes that submission stronger...stuff like that. He also told me to post it here, though, i honestly forgot to do so after i handed it to Master. It was an eye opening assignment for me, and i am beginning to see my motives in a clearer light. Without further delay, here is the essay, which i titled, for Master, "Submission: a life of subjection".

Slavery is definable as “submission to a dominating influence” and as i am a slave, submission is an important aspect of my condition. But what is my submission to my Master? Is it driven by external sources, or something found in my heart? Do the rituals we have enforce submission, or do we need to seek others to ground me in my place? Which work most effectively and what makes them so effective? What actions drive me to submit?

In reviewing online materials regarding domination and submission, an interesting thought presented itself: submission is about compliance. Compliance has to come from within. We are raised to think about what we want, what we are capable of doing and our own desires, but to begin to submit, compliance takes us away from those learned behaviors of deciding for our own. In finding this, i see that though my desire to serve, to submit, comes from an outside source, but my internal compliance is lacking. When i say that my desire to submit comes from an outside source, i recognize that it is not my nature to comply with someone else's whims, despite my desire to please. i am fierce and strong-willed, but i see rewarding joy upon my Master's face when i do submit and comply with His desires.

Moving forward, rituals that bring forward the submission ─ the compliance ─ that we have incorporated into our relationship become especially important for those like myself, who struggle with graceful submission. Rituals that we have included are the moments when i kneel to accept Master's collar, never turning my back upon my Master, and returning to His side on my hands and knees. As far as rituals that we do not currently employ that would enforce that desire to comply, to fully allow myself to return Master's gifts to His property with obvious devotion and servitude in return from His slave...words seem lacking, phrases to repeat loose their meanings in my own ears when spilled from my tongue and physical punishments lack positive connections, which are important to keeping the relationship healthy and happy.

Are the rituals we use enough? In some ways, they are. In others ─ moments when i become ungrounded, moments when i feel unimportant and rejected ─ i struggle to continue to submit with grace, even with the presence of those rituals. Would adding other rituals enforce the feeling of submission? i can't say that they would or they wouldn't. i can't say that i'm going to fall gracefully into compliance until i come to see myself in a better light, until i accept that the changes in our lives do not change who i am or who Master is ─ at least, i'm not sure the compliance will come without help in all situations. The current rituals do keep me slightly more mindful of my place, but as far as driving compliance into my slave heart, i feel that ritual ─ on the whole ─ may be lacking.

Beyond rituals, there is one other thing that i am aware of that moves me to submission. Compliance comes from me most easily after a period of discomfort. Feeling Master physically overpower me, being tortured under His hands, being brought to tears (though not necessarily with impact play), those things drive compliance into my heart like nothing else. Look at how frequently interrogation play sessions are turned to Master's advantage: in less than minutes, and Master has what He wants. And in games of “chase” once Master has caught His prey, is she not pliable, compliant and adoring?

As a brief, and related, aside to the above, the control of a 24/7 Master/slave relationship is important to me, as the structure creates an environment in which i can thrive. However, the aspect of the relationship that i find the most rewarding is the physical display of power, the physical power exchange. Compliance, from my heart, is a side effect of the physical actions within the relationship, and one that is greatly desired by my Master. Because it is so desired by Master, graceful and joyful compliance is also something that i wish to see in myself, more often.

In working on this assignment, i have realized that while i am beginning to recognize that i have no ability to choose anything but obedience, i often return to selfish thoughts regarding my own “needs”. In those moments, i become passive aggressive and willful, completely destroying my ability to submit and comply without negativity. In recognizing the failures of my own behavior ─ the resort to passive aggressive behavior in particular ─ i hope that i can rise above my selfishness and learn to comply and submit with grace more and more as we continue to work on building up our 24/7 M/s relationship, regardless of ritual or enforcement present (or absent) in our day-to-day lives.

Expectations and Frustrations

Time has not been my friend lately. There's been very little time for Master and i, and what there has been has had the unfortunate burden of a slave's expectations.

Master's last day off was a great example...of a lot of things. i desperately wanted a snuggle with my beloved Master as we settled in to watch Iron Man for the first time ever (missed it in the theatre, unfortunately), but Master wanted to snuggle with a slave who was trussed in rope. Despite the fact that Master was being kind and using the lovely nylon satin ropes instead of the evil Sisal rope, i could not move beyond the hurt that i created by building expectations of the rare times we have together.

After all this time with Master, i should remember that my expectations should be couched as requests...and frankly, never become expectations in the first place. After a lengthy discussion, regarding expectations, who should have them, what i should do with them, and being reminded over and over again that topping from the bottom is an absolutely prohibited behavior, we settled in to watch the movie.

As time schooched by, i became more and more tired. Late evenings are not my friend, despite the fact i sometimes battle with insomnia. Because of Master's new work schedule (which i hate, hate and hate) midnight is his early afternoon, and while His slave wilted with exhaustion when the movie ended, He was still needing something from me.

Something that i have been struggling with often, of late, is what to do with the anger and frustration that well up within me when Master asks something of me that raises the selfish creature that dwells within me. And i struggled, at that moment. i was exhausted, tired beyond patience, and frustrated that on those rare days that He has the opportunity to be home with me, i become more exhausted than the other days.

So, there we are, Master needing either a warm cunt or a talented mouth, and a pissy slave who is frustrated and angry.

i wanted to throw something. i wanted to break something. i wanted to lash out and say something cruel. i wanted to curl up in a ball and ignore the world for a peaceful eight hours. The first three are flatly, absolutely poor behavior. The last is delusional.

i swallowed my frustrations, swallowed my anger, and gave Master the rarity of a blowjob. He swears that i hate them, and is saddened that i don't volunteer them more often. Why did i choose to give Master a blowjob? This is what He wants to know. This is why He asked me to write about this.

(For the record, i don't hate blowjobs. It's very intimate and a joy to bring someone to ecstasy by exploiting the generous helping of nerve endings that make up our sexes. Far more intimate ─ and in some ways more "touching" than sex. i don't volunteer to give Master more of these treats because He has a fantastically awesome girth and lovely length, and with my smallish jaw, well...it seems to me akin to attempting to ram a half-inch screw through a three-quarter inch cap nut.)

But back to the question at hand, why did i give Master a blowjob instead of offering Him a warm cunt? i simply did not trust my mouth to not be busy. Every question He asked me during my display of oral talents fueled my anger, driving me to work harder at sending Him into ecstasy, into the toe curling bliss a blowjob often takes Him. Because He'd ask less questions if He was busy breathing, gasping and wiggling on the sheets.

Afterwords ─ it was ironically easier to truly accept and swallow my issues. He knows as well as i do the frustrations of our lives. He understands exhaustion, for different reasons, maybe, but He knows it well. Sometimes the frustrations and anger that stems from the world outside our door get to Him, too. The best we can do is be who we are.

In that moment (when I was thinking my Master should try drinking pineapple juice), it was easier to simply accept that i had to trust Master and let go of what i expect and of the frustrations and anger that build in me because of life. In that moment, Master and slave were at peace with the world, anger and frustrations melted away in the afterglow.

Snipping

Recently, i have been petulant. More so when Master attempts to ground me, to remind me that regardless of the changes that have caused such upheaval in our lives that i still belong to Him.

That almost sounds like an excuse, as i look back over that paragraph. It's not meant to. And more and more, i am realizing that i must be cautious when i speak. Not only mindful of my words, but how i say them, the intent with which i say them and the reason for saying them.

In the ever growing relationship that Master and i have, things have to change to allow for growth. Recently, Master deemed that we were far enough along, that He knows me well enough, to banish excuses from my lips and safe words from our scenes. He expects me to continue to communicate with Him, regarding my feelings, my hurts, and how i feel during a scene, but excuses and safe words are gone.

But back to the petulance that has colored my behavior. The other night, Master gave me a task to complete after He headed off for work, which included orgasms. In every instance, without fail, i am to thank Him for those gifts. But when i finished the task, the only words i included were "As ordered, Master". As i looked at those words on the tiny screen of my phone, the thought bumbled through my head that i should add that i was grateful. i can't say for sure how long i looked at that message before i hit send, but i pondered. And sent the text as it was.

A petulant slave at her best. Er. Worst.

Therein lies my problem. i am aware that i need to be especially mindful of what i say and how it is said, especially to Master, but when i remind myself that my behavior and speech has been lacking in one very important factor ─ respect ─ that peevishness raises its ugly head and i make no progress, no change.

What aggravates me, regarding this petulance that has found its way into me, woven itself through the fabric of who i am, is that i see it, and allow it to send me further into behaviors that i know Master will find displeasing. Further, i am saddened that while i do see progress from where i was in 2003, this disrespectful behavior is dragging me backwards in my progression as my Master's slave.

The truth is, life is full of changes. We are all forced into situations that we find unpleasant, from time to time. And there are positive changes too, like the growth of the relationship that i have with Master, the personal growth He has helped me achieve and the continuing healing of my heart and psyche. Changes should not cause petulant behavior, much less the disrespectful tone that has obviously led me into a heap of trouble.

More respect, less petulance. Starting...now.

Pay the whore...

An interesting time has come upon us. I have, for nearly the breadth of my ownership over my lovely little slave, considered her to be a whore for private use. Time and time again I have brought this out in her, delighting in her begging to be fucked and to taste my cum. I see it in her desperate looks and grinding hips. I hear it in the panting breaths and her dog like whimpering.


However, the time has come for my little whore to be paid. Or more appropriately, to have her earn her keep. She is no longer the little office pet, the strong willed and opinionated woman who returns home to heel at my feet and wear my collar. Now she is the little house slave, whiling away the long hours until my unfortunately lengthy return. Now she finds herself restricted to an allowance; and one that, for the most part, she must earn. I have never before taken the pleasure of stuffing a handful of bills into her well used mouth, and I have to ask myself why I have waited this long. Her cock sucking skills have definitely improved over the last year and I find that tying her performance to her pay has greatly helped her desire to take my cock.


For now, the privilege of being fucked and used like the little slut she is, is not conditional upon her pay. I would hate to pay her for something that she can't get enough of as I would go broke in no time. Also, I feel that that particular privilege should remain entirely at my discretion, it helps keep my little cunt in line.


However, the things that she seems to struggle with the most are perfect places to impose this particular condition. My slave wants to be paid, then she has to offer her ass to the harshest paddle, or lick my cum from the tiled floor, or piss in a cup or bowl and wait to see whether or not I make her drink, or offer her asshole for use. Hmmmmm, my dulcet little slut slave may never look at payday the same way again. ;) In the mean time, I will continue to make my whore "work hard for the money":D...

Of piles and the past...

In one of my sometimes, occasional, rare, and completely unpredictable desires to become more organized, i found one of my old handwritten journals from years ago, which promptly caused the cessation of the attempt to cleanse some of my clutter. Of course i had to stop working on my piles and piles of papers, old bills, old newspapers (hey, i love the smell of newsprint and ink, not to mention criticizing the heck out of the typical graphic designer) and other random bits of my collection to read said journal. It's in my nature to be nosy, and i'm often the victim of my own curiosity. (Is that a sad thing?)

Regardless. This old, handwritten journal was an interesting look back on what my submission meant to me at the time, about what i thought was important to our M/s and D/s dynamics, about who i was and where i thought we were going. In reading those old entries (from 2003, by the by) i realized a few things about where i've come from and what i believe.

As i skimmed the old, black journal, and my burbly little-girl-like handwriting in brightly coloured (and sometimes glittered) inks, i realized that at the time i had no idea where our relationship was going to take us, i was very selfish about what i received from the relationship at the time, and lacked confidence in who i was and my importance to Master. The beliefs inherent in the writings suggested that i was extraordinarily fragile, afraid of my shadow and that what i wanted from the relationship was as important as what Master needed.

Looking at that, surrounded by my piles (and evidence of my inclination to save everything) i'm pleased to say that i see some positive change in myself. Not only has my handwriting matured (though my taste for brightly coloured inks has not) but my nature as my Master's submissive has changed as well.

i know Master has hopes for how our relationship matures, and that there are bloggers out there that i read who have the kind of 24/7 M/s relationships that Master would like us to grow into. Not that we'll be exactly like them, (i'm not quite as masochistic as Kaya and CarrieAnn are, for example) but further from the place where i question and doubt what He expects. i see progress there, i really do ─ i'm getting better about keeping doubts and questions out of His ears ─ and i see how far i have yet to go.

i see the difference in myself when i look at His needs, and ignore my nagging "wants", because i am beginning to see those "wants" of mine as superflous, more like decorations on a cake (not even quite as important as icing). i am feeling more confident in my place with Him, and know that i do hold value to Him, despite the fact that i am nothing more than His property, an object.

It was a fascinating experience, to see the differences between then and now so clearly. Now, someday, i kind of hope to find the very first journal. Which i hope is still somewhere among the stuff Master and i have hauled around for the last decade. But it will have to wait for another one of those rare days when the desire to be rid of the pack-rat piles strikes.

On the bathroom floor...

You may or may not have noticed my twitterings lately, complaining about a shift in schedule. i also believe i discussed my dislike of change in a previous post. While things are headed back towards "normal", it's not going to be an immediate shift. And it means change again, so that has me on edge, though it will help us bring things back into balance.

And they were very badly out of balance lately. With the sudden shift in schedule, there was very little time for Master and i to spend together...in fact, though we were home together often, it felt like we were living in two separate worlds. Invariably, when i allow myself to become stressed, i become an insomniac, my hair falls out and i loose what little control i have over my tongue.

All of that led to some very poor behavior on my part, and whenever i'm feeling particularly contrite, i feel the need to offer Master a service that, if not His favorite, damn near tops the list... That is, oral sex, which may or may not be mixed with a handjob.

So, feeling contrite, with Master in the shower, i knelt outside the tub, and persuaded Him to relieve some stress and accept a heartfelt apology via a blissful orgasam. When i was permitted to enter the shower to clean the evidence from my chest, He decided that more was required.

There's nothing wrong with shower sex (in fact it's great!), but it is difficult for me, as our shower is tiny, Master is built like a linebacker, and i'm not all that lithe at the moment. But passion ruled, and things progressed. We fucked in the shower, on the bathroom floor pinned between the toilet and the wall, with my head bumping the wall and the floor intermittently, until we progresed back into our room for the sake of space...

i was His rag doll caught up in His strength, His plaything, for His use and felt more grounded in my role as His slave than i have in weeks. i was gasping, covered in our sweat, with my eyes burning and caught in that place where pleasure and pain are one and the same, where breathlessness twitches into bliss.

And i don't want to let that go...

Biting my tounge...

Master and i have struggled for a long time with my nature to control the environment i am in. There's a reason for this, for my dissociation, my desire to know what's coming next. The reason i have chosen not to face for years. Like all things, no matter how tightly they are packed away in your mind, it has emerged, no longer an abandoned memory stuffed into the recesses of my mind.

The memories are not the subject of this post, as i have spewed those memories elsewhere, and now, after Master and i have discussed them, i am going to attempt to curb my desire to control the situation, to be present instead of retreating when things get too hard and to fall again into that place of trust.

It's not easy. Master plans and plots a scene, and though i know i will benefit in being of service, being a pleasure to Him, i will ask question after question. Often leading the scene to destruction because i refuse to release my hold on expectations.

Even knowing where my questing tongue will lead the scene, and how it will make Him feel, as i attempt to curb my tongue, my body language betrays me. Being stiff and slack shouldered keys Master into the fact that i am holding back and not fully releasing myself into His hands. And He will ask, and i have to tell, leading to the ruination of the scene because biting my tongue wasn't enough.

And how that frustrates me and leads me into feeling like a failure.

i'm happiest with Him when i have relinqueshed control, when i allow myself to be present in the moment, sinking into the bliss of being His property, His plaything. In those moments, i feel more alive than ever. Over and over again, Master has proved that He knows me, down to the deepest core of smoky quartz of my soul. Master has shown me that He is the light that burns through me, that with Him, i become a blaze of light and allow myself to be who i really am.

Every moment with Master becomes a moment of bliss when i give myself over as completely as i promised when i chose to accept His collar. Every moment i am present, i become more than average.

It is time for me to allow the psychological damage to be burned away in trust. It is time for me to be greatful for every moment of our lives when we are who we are together. That means no more questions, no more slack-shouldered stiffness... It means, truly accepting that i am His, proudly, in every moment, without questions and doubt.

It is time to fulfill my promise to the one who owns my heart, my Master.

Out there somewhere...

The other day was reading Deity's blog the other day, specifically, his post entitled Mydentity (clever, clever, Deity...The reason i love to read his blog - er, one of them anyway) and was reminded of how hard it is to be part of the kink community. Not something i think about often as Master and i are fairly isolated from the public scene at the moment and 98 percent of my kink-related interactions are online. Which is far different than when we first entered the scene. 90 to 97 percent of it was with honest, fellow kinksters living in the same region and the leftovers was online.

But it is hard. To have to keep your identity to yourself, hide behind a facade, to protect the life society expects you to have. i remember those days - being terrified that my personal choices would hurt my career, and scared that because i chose to be beaten all kinds of people would think that my Master was less than honorable.

And it's also hard, to be out there. To strip away the layers upon layers of viels that have hidden your whole identity from the kink world and vice-versa.

If you do find Master's or my profile on FetLife, you'll see we're pretty out there. While we're still low key (very, very low key) about our preferences with our vanilla family and friends, we have exposed (hehe) ourselves to the world. Our faces are now out there.

Some of the frustration of hiding ourselves is gone. The fear of being critizized is not. But, i have no career to fret over, now, and realizing more completely, to more people, who i am, has been a very enlightening experience. Terrifying, too though. And maybe that's why i'm so ramped up at the moment.

Yes, that's why Deity's post resonated with me so. We're out there way more than we used to be, and that's scary. And that's hot.

Too bad there's real life stuff that needs doing.

And, just by-the-by, the search that led me to Deity's lovely blog: corsets (or some version of that).

Less time in hand...

...Then time out the window.

August has flown by and it doesn't seem like it. For the life of me i cannot figure out where it all has gone. Master and i have had a rather hectic and traumatic month, as we adjust to the requirements of His job outside the home, and the upcoming schedule change.

It's something that i've allowed to stress me out and make me agitated. In turn, making me over-tired and -- i hate to say it -- demanding.

There is a blog i read, freqently, because i adore the way she describes everything she shares with us, and recently, wrote about the "disaster". If you haven't followed the link on our sidebar to view Persephone's Obedience, her series on the disaster is amazing.

And, i did tangent briefly to her for a reason. Trust. Placing absolute trust in one's Master is an amazing place to be. i know because once, breifly, i did. It was beautiful, freeing and humbling. The reason i'm not there now?

Things changed, and i didn't trust.

That one action of mine, set us both spinning in aggrivation, dumped me into a melancholy state and left Master horribly frustrated. Instead of moving us forward, Master had to work us through all that territory we'd already been through.

Here we are, again in a position where i have to trust. The slave in me has to let go of her fears, and know that trusting Master is the most important thing she can do. Fretting, making myself aggrivated, anxious and exausted is not helpful to the situation.

i have to let go. No more worrying about how quickly time passes, or what the change is going to bring. It's up to me to trust.

Metal

Master has a fetish for metal. Handcuffs, leg irons, chains... He loves it. The color of it, the chill of it, the permanence of it.

For me, i prefer the softer things - leather, rope (yes, Master, i know i gripe about it), duct tape, saran wrap... To me, these things feel more like an embrace, being held in Master's ownership.

To me, metal is cold, uncaring, unloving, inescapable. It is something that i loathe first and love last. Cuffs and leg irons bite into me, making me edgy, uncomfortable and sometimes afraid. Metal scares me before it can excite me.

And, while we've used handcuffs, leg irons and chains (including a choke chain collar) in our play, i had never felt cold, unyielding metal around my neck. The choke chain has always had some give to it, and being chained (like my little icon at the start of each of my entries) always left me some movement.

Things change.

A box arrived in the mail yesterday, and i had sneaking suspicions about what exactly Master had ordered. In truth, i wasn't sure how i would handle it, if my suspicions were confirmed. When Master finally got home and opened the box, it was indeed as i had suspected and at first opportunity, Master locked that steel collar around my neck. (By the way, we both adore Autumn's sub-shop.)

Metal is cold. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Cruel. Inescapable. Heavy.

In part, i think the reason Master has such a fetish for metal is because it becomes so inescapable.

At first, all i could think of was the weight of it, and while that never went away, i was also reminded of how much my position as His slave is like that collar. This is something that doesn't go away just because it's uncomfortable, or too much. Because of the time that Master and i have invested in our Master/slave relationship, we (together) have made it something that i cannot leave. i cannot escape. i don't want to escape.

But it's heavy, rough, unyielding, inescapable.

Regardless of whether or not He locks that collar around His property's neck, i am His, and the weight of that, the cold, inescapable nature that is now present in our scenes, in our day-to-day lives, is always with me.

And the collar being locked around my neck -- i can't say i was comforted by its cold grip, that i handled the inescapable nature of it with perfect grace -- but as much as i prefer the leather collar Master uses on me, i did enjoy the physical reminder that i cannot escape.

After all, i helped Master build the cage of my life.

Hard Work

It is said that birth order has a lot to do with our emerging personalities as we get older. Only children are more assertive and yet more withdrawn from social interactions than the “babies” of the family. Middle children are laid back and go with the flow, but the child who has younger siblings is often bossy and directive.

i wanted to go into all of that because my submission doesn't come very naturally for me – i am the older sibling in my family. While i'd rather that someone else take the lead, mostly i want them to lead in the direction i want to go. All of this sometimes makes it very difficult for me to submit. i have an idea of where i want to go, and while Master encourages me to communicate these thoughts and desires with Him, it's His decision, His will, that guides us through the journey we are taking together.

Master, incidentally, is an only child. He is assertive, knows what He wants and has few qualms about the how of indulging His cravings. He is very naturally dominant – but He does tend to withdraw Himself from social interactions that are not happening on His terms. Usually meaning, the bossy, directive girl has made her presence known.

It's a reoccurring lesson in our household. Master's wants, not mine. Master's desires, not mine. His slave is just His property, an object.

People in 24/7 Total Power Exchanges (TPE's) often mention “brainwashing”, but i've found that to be a misnomer. The dominant partner in TPE's is actually in a sense, re-sculpting what already exists. i don't believe the essence of the submissive/slave is washed away in these relationships, but built up and shaped to suit the dominant partner. And that's not, in my opinion, “brainwashing”.

i've not thought that Master was “brainwashing” me, but after the mini-scene we had last night, i do see that i am being changed, subtly, to accept Master's will without thinking of what i want.

Laying there, bound and hearing Master talk to me as an undercurrent of the pain He was inflicting, i realized that i have fought Him at every turn as He put a rule in place (even if i suggested the rule), until i come to the point where i realize that His will is stronger than my own, and i want to be an obedient slave He is proud to own. Trying to answer His questions while my brain was busy processing the pain, my thoughts were running in circles around the fact that i need someone to create structure for me.

In the years we have been together, He has worked with me, He has created the structure that i need to function without floundering. He has changed me from a sometimes masochist to a pain slut, from a girl who was timid in bed to a writhing whore and is changing me from an opinionated and bossy brat (not attractive qualities, are they?) to an intelligent, thinking and willing slave. He has invested His time, His masterly energies and His sadistic tendencies to build me into something more than i was.

i'm not perfect. i'm disobedient, willful and opinionated. But He knows these things. And more and more, He refuses to give in to my whimpering and whining. More and more, He is working the willful and stubborn streak out of me. He is continuing to sculpt me into the slave He desires.

i'm happiest as a submissive – and more so as His slave. While blind obedience does not come naturally, i feel grounded and centered when i am pleasing to Him. The world scares me less now that i identify as His property than it did when i was the eldest child being bossy and directive. Now that i work to follow Him as He wishes, i feel more confident in my skin. i know that there is still a lot of work that needs doing – but i trust that Master will do what it takes to bring me to a place where i cease to question His will, where i can remember it's never about what i want, but what He thinks i need.

Kinky camping

A few years back, my Master bought a whole slew of camping gear. We'd be super prepared for when we went camping, and it would be awesome. Master has this idea in His head about combining an outing into the wilderness with some kinky fun, but i've never been sold on the idea. And something always seems to come up to interfere with Master's grand schemes (not always me, i'd like to point out).

Yes, i've been camping before - in fact at least once every summer until i turned sixteen, it was our annual vacation, and quite fun. Believe it or not, i actually like fishing and camping. But i'm not sure about mixing camping with kink.

Now, i know that cartoon above is just silly, because Master would probably remember to bring lots of rope, along with plenty of other toys, but there's still one or two other little matters.

One, i don't like dirt (though i don't like being in cold water just as much) and two, there are bugs out there, and i don't get along with bugs. They give me the creepy crawlies. And truthfully, i'd want to go fishing, but Master would be more interested in leaving me tied to a tree (and tree bark is scratchy).

Yet, there is the camping gear, looming and waiting for the opportune moment to be packed up, along with a few choice toys (which would, most likley, fall into the same category as the bugs and dirt) by Master for a weekend getaway. And i'm sure that someday, it'll happen. Master will come back burbling and happy, and i will come back sore, tired and less clean than i'd like, but probably just as happy.

Graphoerotica and U/us

The concept of writing witty and sexual things on a slave like a billboard advertising campaign is something we have all probably seen a lot. How many of us have actually done it? What is the right medium? I am sure that many people have thought about it and maybe even tried it.

One of the concerns that I have been saddled with in the past has been what to use to write on my fleshy canvas. I have seen lipstick used pretty readily with varying degrees of success, however, I am not a fan of lipstick as it transfers too readily. You also want something that is going to show well, either on camera or maybe in the low light of a club setting.

I have had the misfortune to convince myself that ketchup would be a good medium as it would show well on this particularly dim camera W/we once had. Don't do that!:) For those of you who are now laughing at this, I admit I deserve it in this instance. The vinegar in the ketchup stings the flesh and is not the best writing medium; now if what your looking for is sensation play that will get the slave squirming, then you might want to consider it.

Perhaps the best and most interesting medium would be henna. A flesh stain that is permanent and takes sometimes months for it to dissipate as the stained skin cells need to flake off. Henna now comes in a variety of colors, as I understand, and can be found in most art stores like Hobby Lobby.

W/we have, when testing out the appearance of the symbol that will soon be my slave's mark of ownership upon her leg, used dry erase markers because they are not toxic, nor are they particularly permanent. However, they are dry erase so they transfer too easily.

Now, last night, my slave and I retired to the bedroom with the notion of attempting some body art using Sharpie markers and some gel pens. Sharpie state themselves to be non toxic, but the idea of permanent markers still makes me a little wary. So, I lay my slave out on the bed, and after some testing with a thin dowel rod as a potential cane, W/we settled into try it out.

I bound my slave with her wrists bound to her shoulders and her elbows bound in tight to her sides. Her knees and ankles bound together with a vibrator stuck between her bound thighs. Then I broke out the tens and wired her up. Now, it is always fun to wire a slave up with things that are going to make her wiggle and writhe, then order her to stay still lest her movements ruin some objective of yours such as body writing or balancing a glass upon her back or ass, etc.

One thing you need to know about body writing is that it is not like writing on paper. Obvious right? The flesh moves and pulls and the ink will bleed a little bit, so the finer the tip, the better the results. Also, like tattoos, if you mess up, it stays that way; so having a good idea of what you want before you start is a good idea. I have never found myself to be all that good of a free form artist. Don't get me wrong, I can most certainly draw but I like to erase a lot. Also, when trying to draw or write on a wiggling, shuddering slave who is begging to cum can be a bit distracting.

I started with something of a definition of slavery upon her right shoulder. However, I started with a pretty standard Sharpie and therefore the lettering was large, bold, and hardly as stylistic as I was hoping. Also the definition was less poetic than I was hoping for. So I decided to switch to one of my favorite gel pens. On the left shoulder I wrote out a more poetic sort of mantra regarding her slavery. It was definitely more stylized but also fainter.

The experiment continued, sporadically interrupted by my girl's need to cum, and I added some other odds and ends, including a "Property of" mark in the center of her lower back, her slave's creed on her left butt cheek, her slave motto on her right butt cheek, and a playing card of the Ace of Hearts upon her right calf that turned out pretty well. (I intend to post some of the photos from this session upon my Fetlife profile so feel free to check it out.)

All followed by a rather fantastic doggy style fucking to end the night, in which my slave reached back to massage my balls for the first time, if not ever then the first time in a long while. I shot a really heavy load into the palm of her offered hand. Hot!! The nice thing about the markers W/we were using is that they wash off for the most part, leaving faint ghosts of what was written as opposed to bright, dark writing that can rub or transfer in the night, marking up the bedding.

Writing on the body of a slave is fun and really sexy. The slogans can be loving, tender, brutal, sexy, slutty, etc. Humiliating the slave by advertising her as a cum dump, or offering her finer attributes like an auctioneer at a meet swap, whatever you wish to do. Sometimes just drawing designs or images transforming her into a living work of art. Fantastic fun for all. Enjoy...

In Flux

Though we've had almost ten years to establish our patterns, protocols and rules, they have always been in flux. Often, i challenge the things He wants (though honestly without meaning to). Our household, and the way we have run it, is another thing that is constantly in flux. Which quite obviously, contributes to changes in our dynamic.

Entwining real life and a 24/7 M/s relationship is always a challenge. Especially, when the parties involved are both opinionated and have their own ideas on how things work and who is responsible for what. (Yes, i am an ornery, opininated girl. Go figure.)

For example, i've never been great at managing household tasks, but even though i'm a bit of a recluse, i have been pretty comfortable working outside the home with other people. This is not the same for my Master. Though He was a bit...messy...in His younger days, He had a better grasp of managing to operate a clean home, but is rarely comfortable working outside the home with other people. So when i have thoughts about what should be where, when the dishes should be done, where things belong and how often the carpet needs to be vacuumed, Master has His own thoughts and it's often hard for me to come to terms with that.

Recently, i've had a bit more inclination to run a cleaner home (though i still have yet to figure out how to balance all the things that need doing) but, my skills outside the home may need me to leave the managing of a functioning household to my Master. As i know it is His least favorite task, i feel guilty for not being able to do a better job of it.

All this, leaves me in a state of flux - the reorginization of priorities and managing being away from home and yet, still manage to come home to Master and be His, without question and without challenging His systems. Despite the fluxes, i am sure that in time, we will again find a balance to our lives and our dynamic. But in the meantime, both of us are a little edgy, a little overly critical (okay, maybe i'm the one that's overly critical) and frustrated by the need for changes in rules and protocols.

Nothing in life is ever set in stone - especially not in a 24/7 dynamic. In fact, as of yet, i don't know if i will cease to be His stay-at-home slave or if i will have to balance a career and my slavery. Things may change tomorrow, or not for weeks, months or whatever time measurement is appropriate, but they may not change at all. It may be that my focus needs to continue to be learning to manage the home better than i have.

Whatever it takes, i want Master to be happy with me, in whatever situation real life and our 24/7 lifestyle require.

Home Again...Marked

The hardest thing about coming home is falling back into routine. i'm not talking about the routine of being His, but there is a certain pattern that's established for the mundane things, and finding the easy rhythm of that is often difficult for me. It becomes especially difficult for me when the pattern continues to elude me or things fly into the plan and gum up the works.

So it goes though, and i almost always find myself exhausted upon walking in the door of the home i share with my Master. As i attempt to return to the normal schedule of the household, invariably things will come up and change how i expected to deal with the attempt to return to the routine. When they do, i open my mouth and snip without thinking.

This particular trip was somewhat more problematic, as we had been absent from our home for five days, leaving both of us feeling edgy and desperately needing to play (i'm going to say, especially me, but that might not be true), and both of us had less than necessary sleep under our belts. Being good was a bit of a stretch for me - i was full of snipping and clipped statements, agitating my poor Dark One more than He deserved.

After allowing almost 24 hours to fall back into the routine, we did attack the need for play. Well...He attacked it and i succumbed to the attack. He knew i needed to be reminded of what i am (snipping smart-ass-masochist as a slave), and needed to be reminded that we've moved beyond the stages where i am allowed excuses, limits and "i don't knows". Additionally, He fully intended to leave marks on me that lasted longer than the usual period of time (a sad few hours, usually a maximum of twelve).

And about marks...i love them. i really do, but while my (very pale) flesh pinks nicely, or shows little welts immediately following our activities, the signs of play fade rapidly. i am frequently jealous of women who show the marks of their play long after the session has ended. So, i asked Master to push me beyond and make sure that there were marks from some play sessions.

Regardless of my request, He ravaged me. My body begged for a deep breath, cinched beneath leather straps, and my throat fought the pressure of the leather posture collar and my favorite ball gag. i wanted to claw at the sheets as He ripped a clothespin zipper off, beat the insides of my tender thighs and even the soles of my feet with the damnable white plastic spoon. (i swear, i have a hate, love, hate relationship with that thing. It's extraordinarily hard for me to deal with, yet it does leave interesting marks and and is quite painful...hence the hate-love-hate.) His slave was helpless under His hands, and adored the sensations her Master offered to her.

Yes, i did enjoy the pain, the ache...all of it - deeply, i fell away to a place where there is no thought, just the sensation. It is the place where i forget that i have to beg, the place where i struggle to remember the words that He has given me to offer him my orgasms for His pleasure... It is the place where i want to go, where i no longer worry about being "good enough" and where i am safely wrapped in His cruelty (and love, too).

And, the rewards of Master's efforts showed themselves quite nicely as soon as i was able to muster up the courage to stand. For once, there are lovely purple streaks in the skin of my breasts, and even my thighs carry pretty pink welts and faint bruises well after the play session. i was marked by Master's sadism, carried away in a wash of pain, and the recovery has been quite fascinating to me...

i don't often experience deep sub-drop or require oodles of after care, but this session left me (beyond) weeping, (exceptionally) quivery and (very, very) definitely in need of a gentle hand to keep me steady as i moved back into the requirements of life. Even now, if He brushed those bruises or welts, i'd be a puddle at His feet...but He's already said He intends a different focus for this evening...

Time Keeps on Slippin'...

Well now, it has been a while since I posted last. Thus is the nature of my communicative self. I never seem to call anyone nor visit anyone unless made to. Not that I don't have plenty to say, just I seem to prefer a "captive" audience;) Enough with that though.

So things have continued much as they always have; life is nothing if not cyclic. My pet and I have found some time to play recently but much to my chagrin it is no where near where it used to be.

Gone seem the days of seven hour planned sessions that move much like a scripted adventure game utilizing every torture and torment device one can lay their hands upon while moving through one centralized and all important theme. For example, the newly acquired slave girl who has to be broken through the crucible of torments to become a "good girl", or the slave who has serious need of being reigned in and brought back to her place before she gets into real trouble, or any number of terribly wondrous delights. Especially the chance to seriously drive my slave so deep into sub space that her limits can be pushed or even shattered. How I long to have a water play session with her involving hooded dunking! Ohhhhhhhh.

Yet, we have been trying to make the best of O/our time. The other night I experimented in a little asymmetrical bondage (symmetry is a huge thing with me) that turned out to be a hugely successful and enjoyable session, despite its short duration. A week or so before that I involved my slave in a massive head fuck session in which I combined story telling aspects with physical cues and sensations while binding her in a helpless and near total sensory deprived position. she could not see nor touch nor speak (and as a result, taste); she could only hear what I was saying and feel what I wanted her to.

The story went something like this; I took my slave out for the night and brought her back home, bound and blindfolded in the back of the car. she is taken down to the dungeon and is bound to some piece of furniture holding her immobile. I then whip her with my crop and subject her to a number of torments, some only described and others reinforced by real life actions. The best part is when a mythic second slave, who received some random name I neglected to remember, is placed between her legs, invading her with a strap-on in the story while in reality I am the one penetrating my slave (It gets confusing just writing it, but that is why it is a mind fuck). This second slave, is bound and is being taken from behind by me in the story. My slave, who is gagged, must beg this second slave for the chance to cum. (In a later posting I'll explain how my slave can cum when ordered). Here's the trick, she is begging me in reality and though I give her permission, I am doing it from the point of view of the second slave. This messed her up and as I hoped she was unable to cum because it was not her Master who had given her permission. Talk about a mind fuck;)

That night my slave was so hyped up and horny that I was able to whip her throughly with my crop all over her ribs, tits, stomach, and inner thighs and with greater impacts then are normally within the realm of her pain threshold. It was a particularly successful night and one of O/our more lengthy play sessions, having lasted something like two to three hours, putting me way behind in my sleep for the next day but proving completely worth it.

Other of O/our play sessions have been somewhat less dramatic but no less enjoyable. I have a thing for chains and I had the occasion to run heavy chains between my slave's collar and cuffs. The chains all together must have added twenty some odd pounds to my girl and she was reluctant to stand straight. I gave her little choice in the matter and the situation quickly became an impromptu lesson on giving everything she had to obey my orders. The sex was quite nice after that.

Just the other night I bound up my sex slave with a spreader bar behind her neck with her hands tied out to the sides. Then I tied her legs together at the ankles and pulled them up to wrap the rope around the backside of her neck. Thus her legs pull her head forward against
the rope of the spreader bar, choking her. I then took her like this, my bound little ball, struggling for breath and squirming to be fucked harder. she soon passed out, overwhelmed by the pressure and pleasure. I delighted in taking my pleasure from her unconscious body, what a treat.

So despite the lack of time to play these days, W/we still manage to get some time together. Torture and torment have taken an almost rushed or hurried feel recently, but I like to think I can weather it. Now to make time to write about to all of you...

Fortune cookies in bed...

There's something i have to share because i love it...

i'm a sucker for a few webcomics, at least, when i'm not reading other people's blogs or playing on FetLife or taking up Master's time or doing chores or trying to get some painting done or...

Maybe i am going to have to give up a few things, so i have more time to blog myself. But, in the meantime, this is too funny to not share...


The first two not so much, but especially so with the fortune cookie on the right... Violence in bed is exactly what i'm craving!!

i try to remember to visit this comic as often as i can, but sometimes it slips from the list of things i can get done in my free time, so i discover these little gems much later than others...

And, we're still around...but life has been unfortunately busy, and i've taken much of Master's free time with the previously mentioned mentality that is such an undercurrent in my relationship with Master...

So, hopefully, we'll have a nice big entry or two on our latest sexapades soon. Or maybe a glimpse into things He might be planning!

Unusual moments...

Who doesn't love sex in the morning?

Master and i have a very sexually charged relationship. It's not all about sex, of course, but there is an underlying current composed of "I-wish-we-could-ignore-the-world-and-the-
things-we-have-to-do-so-that-we-could-just-screw-like-bunnies-
right-now" in the back of our minds most of the time. Even beneath my submission, when He asks me to do something very unrelated to the desire to screw like bunnies, there is that sexual charge.

i never have been much of an early riser, and i hate waking up. So does my Master. Unfortunately, the way the world turns, one of us would have to get out of bed eventually, and "eventually" usually means, just barely in time to be on time. It's not that we go to bed at a particularly late hour... In fact, i think our reluctance to wake just because both of us adore sleep, and our reluctance to get out of bed has a great deal to do with that thought brewing in the back of our minds.

Every now and then, however, Master will sometimes awaken me with evilly cruel brushes of His fingertips on just the right spots, or bite down on the back of my neck...Even rarer are the days when i am awake before He is, and choose to get Master's...um...attention. (i rarely initiate. it makes me feel uncomfortable, because i feel that i'm seeking His attention because i want it, not because it is something He would enjoy.)

Every time i do this, i forget how intensely Dominant He becomes. We may not spend as much time in the morning offering our affection for each other or twisting a scene into these stolen moments, but in the way He uses me in the mornings, the truths He tells me to say...in all of it i am reminded just how much i belong to Him and how Dominant He is. It sets the tone for the day, though with our now very-hectic schedules moments to enter a full fledged scene are rare.

We had such a day the other day...that is, the sort of day when i was awake before He was, when i was brave enough to cause His eyelids to flutter open before the wretched sound of the alarm.

And though He becomes intensely Dominant, perhaps more cruel and sharper in His demands of me (all of which leads to one happy girl, by the way), it is a relief to me to see the day's anticipated tensions fall away from His shoulders and a relief to see that the way he carries Himself throughout the day was affected by such a simple thing. All it takes is a willing girl waking Him in one of the gentlest manners for a favored activity. Regardless of what she might think.

Defining...terms

There are a lot of differing definitions in the world of BDSM. i have seen many people argue, debate or kindly disagree on the meanings of submissive and slave, subspace versus flying, Dominant and Master... At some point, i believe, each person needs to decide what their own definitions are, because really these relationships are a deeply personal thing...

While i truly believe that it is very important for each person to come to their own decisions about what a word means in their relationship(s), i thought i'd throw my two cents out there as far as how i define what i am, what Master and i do and how that leads me to feel about it all... Because i am not any sort of switch and have no desire to, i am going to leave out definitions of the Dominant - i simply have no base for reference, and i cannot define my Master. (grin)

The obvious, of course is submissive and slave. Personally, i'm still a little iffy on these definitions. For me, it now comes down to the fact that i belong to Master. i identify as a willful submissive - i'm bratty, yes, but i also do find satisfaction in pleasing Master, even in the simple act of opening a soda for Him, as He would do for Himself. However, because i have accepted His ownership, i am His slave. No longer am i simply the bottom to His Domly-self, but i have tried to give more of myself, to quietly accept His ownership and all that comes with it, be less the willful and bratty submissive that dwells in my heart. Sometimes i fail miserably at that, but i do try. The key difference here for me, is i may be able to submit to another, but i don't believe i could accept any other ownership other than my Master's. i have done a lot of soul searching about this, and i'm pretty sure that Master will be the only one i will ever call "Master" and mean it.

i have heard a lot of submissive folk refer to subspace as the place they drift off to in scene and post scene. That lovely place where endorphins carry on, lending bliss and sometimes memory loss to our recollection. i have never referred to those lovely feelings as subspace - it's what i call flying, because in those moments i am freed from all of the mundane worries, thoughts and feelings and let myself drift away, away and away in the sensations created by the scene. In these moments, words don't form on my lips, just a satisfied hum that lets Master know i heard. While i am floating out there, i feel freed from my body, floating on air, unfettered by matter though still able to feel the remnant sensations of the bondage, the pain and what-have-you.

My version of subspace is the part of me that is willing to submit, serve and please. It's the part of my brain where everything becomes erotic - once i am in subspace i am further from the normal limitations i experience, and free to enjoy everything around me. Master asked me which comes first, arousal or subspace, and for me, they are linked...one opens the door to the other, either way. If i read something that is arousing, i also find subspace, if i find pleasure in serving, i become aroused...

So that's a start. A tiny glimpse into the way i view the terms that define who i am and where i might go...

Why i am His...part two

Master has always been there for me in my life, in one form or another. We met a long time ago (i'm under 30, and so if i say a "long time ago" i mean, more than 15 years ago) and He has always held a place in my heart as a friend. Being constantly aware that i am extremely lucky to have someone who knows me so well be my Dominant has boosted my ability to relinquish control.

Belonging to Master, i don't flinch when He calls me "whore," "slut" or anything that some might consider degrading, but i do blush. When someone outside of the relationship has called me such, i just raise my eyebrows. i know i haven't become desensitized to the words, because when He says them, they still have a huge impact on me, but in other mouths, they have become meaningless. Because i know that Master knows me better than i know myself, not only do those terms humiliate me, but they also, beneath the actual syllables, remind me of how much He loves me. As i said, He knows me better than i know myself, and in that, i find comfort and solace.

The relationship that we have together is a truly amazing dynamic, sometimes i amuse Him, others displease Him but i am always loved and treasured. Sometimes, i don't feel the love as much as the displeasure as i am extremely sensitive to His general mood, but deep in my heart, i cannot doubt that this Man, who i have known for more than half of my life, and belonged to for over a third of it, will always do His best to help me grow and love me.

i am aware of my flaws, and am sometimes ashamed of them. Master doesn't let me wallow in those feelings. "Who do you belong to, bitch?" He'll ask me. "If I didn't think you were worth anything, would you belong to Me?"

And in those moments, while i'm blushing, humiliated and trying to climb out of the pit of self-abuse, i know that Master is always working to build me up, to help me overcome the things about myself that aren't my best qualities. He tears me down so that i can feel His love, and builds me back up to fly through that love as a stronger person, better submissive and happier slave.

Because my Master knows me so well, i am worthless and yet treasured beyond the highest value. Because He cares about how i see myself, He shows me who i am to Him.

And that is also part of why i am His.