The Worst Patient

They say that doctors make the worst patients. What about us Masters?


So the other day, while out playing some tennis with a friend of mine, I managed to wrench my ankle around the wrong way. Rather painful I should say. I was a little concerned that I had actually broken some of the small bones in my foot, but I could move it and put weight on it so I was fairly confident that it was just a nasty sprain. We called it quits and I went home to my loving slave.


This was not the first time I have come home injured and by the stars I know it won't be the last. A couple of years ago, while wrestling around with this same friend of mine, I tore out my shoulder. Being a manly man and something of an idiot, I never went to see a doctor and just let it heal naturally. Fortunately, it healed right and has been just fine for a long time now. Well, during that time, my devoted little slave instantly became Dr. Mom and fussed over me ceaselessly.


Coming home with a rather marked hobble, I knew already what was going to happen. My slave greeted me at the door like a good girl and right away saw that I was limping. Let the fussing begin! Right away, she directed me to the couch, threw a pillow under my leg and rushed off to get an ice pack. My feeling is to just let it be and avoid rolling it again, but oh no! My sweet slave instantly becomes Collared Pet Md.


Suddenly she's shoving Advil in my face, handing me a rag to wrap the ankle in, telling me not to move or even think too hard. The girl hands me the X-box controller and the rest of my day is decided for me. All I'm missing now is a bed pan and an IV.


I know, I know, she was just wanting to take care of me, but wow! I normally make her fetch things for me so I don't have to be bothered, but for some reason when I am injured, its like a point of honor or something for me to do things for myself. So me laying on the couch having her fetch things for me goes from an every day activity to suddenly becoming a little bothersome and insulting. I know, weird right?


I think it is the fact that she becomes so demanding and pushy, telling me what I can and cannot do, telling me to sit and stay. A role reversal out of necessity and all I can do is lay there in pain chuckling to myself.


What a fantastically loving and caring girl I own. I consider myself very very fortunate...

Assignments: Art

As i've mentioned previously, i like to draw. If you've seen my FetLife pictures, you'll see a few of my black and white pencil sketches... Lately, in an effort to teach myself to not overwork a sketch, or a painting, i've been dabbling with magna style drawings.

It's harder than it looks. i'm frustrated by the disproportion, the enormous eyes, and the lack of detail. But, i do think it will help in time, to let me see a simpler version of a sketch as a finished piece. Meanwhile, poor Master has been hearing me gripe about the disproportionate faces with no noses and rarely, lips (i think a woman's lips are sexy - all shapes and sizes, so it's one of my favorite parts to draw!!!).

One should also bear in mind that Master actually despises most manga and anime styles because of the over-simplification and enormous eyeballs.

But, Master did tell me that i needed to finish this piece and post it here. Originally, i was not intending these manga girls to be anyone in particular, but quite obviously, my mind has borrowed the image of two of my favorite bloggers and they are now manga girls, about to be posted below... i do hope that they don't mind being cartoon-ized. i'm not going to say which of my favorite bloggers they are...

And with that...my first art assignment, a finished manga piece. (i hope they're as good sports as i think they are!)

For anyone who is curous, the piece is hand drawn, scanned and computer colored.

Assignments: Pride and Shame

A long, long time ago ─ okay, not super long ago, but back in October, Master had me post one of my writing assignments here. The assignments have not been as frequent, and they have been kept between us, but Master thought that this one should be shared here.

Recently, i've been struggling when Master and i leave the house. Call it a mild case of agoraphobia ─ uncomfortable around others who might not understand that i like my life and the choices that i've made. Unfortunately, this translates into a bit of an issue when i am wearing a collar...my discomfort becomes apparent. i know this is something i am going to have to move beyond, and it is why my Master assigned "Pride vs. Shame", which follows below.

Pride and shame are a component of the human condition, but should they be a component of (consensual) slavery? As we have been discussing lately, i have found myself with an over-abundance of shame. Shame in my appearance, in my behavior and even to an extent, my being as a whole. Yet, in those same moments, when i look at the core of my being ─ at the fact that i am my Master's property, His nothing ─ i am proud. The leap to be publicly proud of my status, however, is still elusive.

Why ─ and how ─ do i feel both pride and shame because of my slavery to my Master? Shouldn't a slave base her perceptions of self upon the Master's pride (or shame) in her status? Does a slave have any right to be ashamed of her status ─ the same status she has chosen ─ when the Master is not? Which matters more, the slave's perceptions of shame or pride related to her status, or the reflection of herself in her Master's eyes? Shouldn't one be confident in their own being, even if that is nothing more than as another's property? Heady questions, and all worth touching on, at least briefly, as i continue to evaluate my own perceptions of self and the pride and shame i have in myself and the role that i have chosen.

There are moments in which i struggle expressing my pride in my slavery, when i give Master reason to doubt my sincere need to be His. Most often, this is expressed simply as my struggle to wear a collar into any environment which might (or might not) be public. In those moments, shame overcomes all other emotions, and i am more ashamed of who i am, how i look and the fact that i prefer to live a “deviant” lifestyle by choosing to become my Master's property. i am ashamed because i am afraid of their criticisms and the potential ramifications my choice may have on my family.

More subtle, perhaps, are the moments in which i am proud of my place at my Master's feet. They are moments when i am content, happy to lay at or under His feet, content to be led by my wrist without attempting to pry my hand from His firm grip. They are moments when i cease to be sensitive to others and their static conceptions of relationships and reality. Of course, they are the moments i am most at peace with my image, my sense of self and, on the whole, most content.

Ideally, a slave gives herself over to her Master, to be molded and shaped as He desires, in essence, giving Him everything she is because she belongs completely to Him. In that, her own perceptions of pride and shame should be one with His. Ideally. This often applies inside our relationship. When i feel that Master is proud of me, i feel more confident in my being, i feel as if i am something of value, even as a slave. When He is not pleased with me, my self-worth plummets, and i am more sensitive to the shame and the negative perceptions that people in Master and slave relationships often face.

Quite simply, in the face of an ideal Master and slave relationship, the slave should endeavor to put aside all of her own reasons to feel pride and shame and judge herself on the Master's standard instead of her own.

Thus, the reflection of her identity given to her by her Master is far more important than her own perceptions of her successes or failures in her role as a slave. Indeed, as the slave has chosen to submit to another's will, to accept the pain for another's pleasure, should she not also accept their assessment of her qualities? If one finds fulfillment in their relationship, then how can the Master or the slave feel shame? There should be pride in the depth of submission and the strength of character that is required in Master and slave relationships. There should be pride in recognizing ones identity and living in harmony with that identity.

As my Master has repeatedly told me, “sexy is a mindset”. That applies here, too. Discomfort and shame with ones choices ─ despite the need and desire for them ─ will only draw attention to that. Being confident and proud of one's identity, even as a slave, results in a more relaxed being. When applied in a Master and slave relationship, if she is proud because her Master is proud of her, than she truly has no reason to feel shame, and should be free of irrational fears.

This necessary jump to being proud of my slavery, though still daunting, seems nearer. i realize that being ashamed of what i desire most in life is, at best, a paradigm that has never functioned. Allowing myself to be ashamed of my choice only adds to my own doubt of self worth, considering that i have given all my choices and my will to my Master, is foolish. There is great reason to be proud of my desire to serve, to be objectified in my Master's eyes, to be something that is worth nothing and everything to Him.

Shame is an acceptance of other's standards, but there are no others that i need to consider, for if i please my Master, than i am serving my purpose. Because i know that my Master desires the best for and from His slave, and thereby, His family, i realize that i need to trust that, and see only His perception, the reflection of His slave in His eyes.

i can (and should) be proud of everything that i am, because He has helped me to be those things.

Shame should never enter the picture, for i should never give my Master reason to be ashamed of me, or disappointed in me, and the standards that apply to others do not apply to me. The life that i have may not be right for some, but it is right for me, and i should be proud that i have chosen to be Master's slave, because i have accepted what is right for me. When i look at the core of my being, all of the talents, desires and humors that make up who i am, i am pleased and satisfied, for myself. This is something i desperately need to remember, because i am who i am for my Master and myself ─ not for anyone else.

Locks, Stocks, and Well You Get the Idea...

So, I finished up with the top part of my stocks for my little slave girl and I have to say that, at least the second attempt, has my seal of approval. It fits her perfectly, allowing no chance of escape and no room for misbehavior. I just have to coat it in the red mahogany finish and add some I bolts for control points and they are done. As for the foot portion, I have yet to cut the additional hand holes and finish shaping and sanding and they too will be done.

Here are a few pictures of the un-finished stocks and pictures of my slave in them can be found on our Fetlife page.

The other day my folks came by for a visit and through our many discussion topics, we started talking about my deceased grandfather and his love of the project. How he would spend months working on something; piecing it together, shaping the outcome, pouring his love into something, and when it was finished it became hollow to him.

The joy came from the doing, not the finished product. I have inherited this trait from him, this love of working on something and the hollow feeling that follows. Now, don't get me wrong, I will most definitely get much joy out of this finished product. However, I have seen this trait expressed in many ways. When I draw or paint, sculpt or construct, write or tell a tale, the true joy is in the act of creation and in the end the finished product seems empty.

Well, despite this, I have managed to once again prevail in a self motivated project that tested the limits of my skill, means, and time. That, if nothing else, puts a well deserved smile on my face. That and seeing the helplessness spread across my slave's face when she tries to escape from my stocks...

Ok, Ok...

So I learned something about myself the other day. I know absolutely jack about estimating a job's length. Previously I stated that I thought the stocks were only going to take an hour and a half tops. Right... More like three hours sitting on the edge of the bath tub sanding away at one of the four pieces. I do have to say, however, that that particular piece of the stocks is remarkably smooth all over.

Let me just say this. Living in an apartment and having a wood project to work on makes for an interesting time. I had to use the bath tub because of its saw dust collecting abilities and the built in fan for ventilation. Not my preferred spot for using power tools, but hey, you do what you have to right? Also, the coping saw can bite me. After all the time and money I spent trying to outsmart the damn piece of wood, and I still had to use my electric jigsaw to cut level circles for the wrists, ankles, and neck. Thanks to the Coping saw as a matter of fact, I had to go buy some new wood to start over. So now, I have two different pairs of stocks. One tailored to my sweet slave girl and another for a damned Wookiee should one ever wish to submit! What is the point of having a set of stocks that a professional wrestler would find roomy?!

Okay, so its not that bad. Still, it is an agitation. I had purchased a 2 1/4" doorknob drill bit with pilot bit to cut the circles for the wrists. Then I come to find out that the damned pilot bit was too large a diameter to fit into my drill's housing. I mean what the hell is that? Why is a hardware store selling bits to the average consumer when the bits themselves won't fit half the drills they sell? Seriously? Problem after problem after problem; sounds like a project to me.

At any rate, I have all the holes pre-drilled and have attached all the hardware to ensure it will fit together like it should. Despite my issues with the first attempt, I am quite pleased with the results of the second go. The wood is fresh and mostly pristine. I have chosen a red mahogany finish and hope to start applying the first coats by the end of the week (fingers crossed on this estimate). Also, I have added the pattern for hand holes in the foot stocks, allowing me to use them for either legs only, or both hands and feet.

It is truly a labor of love, and I very much look forward to showing them off on my favorite model. No doubt the red of the wood will accentuate the red of her hair quite nicely.

For my next big project, I really really really want a dinning room table like this!

Not an original photo. No details given about originator.

Could be kind of hard to explain to those 'nilla guests though. Still, could be fun!

Making Time

Due to the time constraints that govern our lives, we don't often partake in the intricate scenes that involve complex bondage very often. And we hadn't ever experimented with bamboo and rope bondage. In thinking about that, i find it hard to believe that in ten years, we haven't ever taken my Master's love for rope to the next level - especially considering my interest in Shibari.

Last night, we took the time to make such a scene happen. And i think that despite the rewards of the whole event, it also took quite a bit of patience on both of our parts. i guess, when it comes to scenes, i desperately want to feel my Master's powerful hands controlling me, forcing me where He wants me ─ it's much harder for me to sit still for an indeterminate amount of time and help my Master confine me in rope.

But every excruciating minute i cooperated as Master looped inch after inch of rope around me, or around the bamboo, trapping my head in a triangle of bamboo, lashing my legs to the bottom of the frame He had created, it all took me deeper into a headspace where i was able to feel my helplessness, my dependence, and my willingness to be in that space for my Master.

While the full 150 some-odd feet of rope was used, i had plenty of time to ponder the desire i have to feel His force, (even in the brief moment in which i panicked because of the rope Master had used on my hands felt rather tight ─ though Master assured me it wasn't) and yet revel in the satisfaction i felt at quietly submitting to the intricate bondage.

To me, there is nothing finer than feeling Him toss me about like a rag doll, confine me with His powerful grip, and "force" me into rapid compliance. Don't get me wrong, i want to submit to Him, and i don't always require that "force", but it is something that i love. All this waiting as each inch of rope was carefully placed, however, also made me realize that patient submission was also rewarding, and i am sure that Master would appreciate receiving more of it.

Master's last step of the intricate bamboo frame and rope bondage was to compress my breasts between two shorter pieces of bamboo, which He then tied to the bottom frame, pulling me forward, forcing me to assume better posture. And that sent me over the edge into subspace. It was bliss ─ the right kind of pain, the right kind of confinement and that willing, patient headspace let me sink pretty deeply into subspace.

The ironic thing about bondage that is intricate and takes eons to complete is once it is complete, i feel like time moves so rapidly and so slowly all at once. It is like being encased in that bondage for hours longer than it took to complete, but at the same time, i am aware that it is only a fraction of the time. i would very much like to improve my tolerance and spend more time in such bondage, but i fear the time we have to dedicate to such a pursuit is yet too short.

Fortunately, Master insisted on taking a few pictures of the bamboo frame and bondage, which He has posted on FetLife.

Once the frame could be removed, Master found his girl more than willing and ready...still wrapped in the proper reminders of pain and pleasure the bamboo frame and inflicted.