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.