Continual Evolution

The story of life is change. Everything changes or evolves. Master and i even change and evolve. It's what people do.

What doesn't change is that every fiber of Master is Master - He is an Owner, my Owner. He's dominant and sadistic. His libido is enormous. Oh, sure, what turns Him on, revs His engine? That shifts a little bit from time to time (He said something about gas-masks the other day - i'm frightened and that turns me on!). But He is always the one who owns me. He cannot turn that part of Himself off, nor has it changed from the moment that i agreed to give myself to Him (for anyone interested in counting, December of 1999 is when i agreed). i suspect that in the back of His mind, He wanted to be my owner much longer than that. What doesn't change is that i am best off as Master's property. i crave His guidance, His ownership. i am better for the kink we infuse into our lives. i am more grounded with the bondage, the pain, the bliss that He gives me.

And yet, we have a family. In fact, our little boy is about to be a big brother, as i mentioned in "Biggest Surprise Present Ever." And so, right now, Master and i, who have become big edge players with heavy impact, punching, kicking, and breath play...are having to subsist on the lighter stuff that makes up our kink.  While bastianado is lovely, it's not the same as feeling Master's heavy fist land against my ribs. Or feel His foot smash against my leg. Or His gloved hands crushing my neck. But we will subsist. It's just like having rice cakes instead of steak.

Master and i are both attached parents. We prefer keeping our young close to us. So the reality is, while i'm pregnant, we must subsist on the lighter forms of play. When our little miracle bundle arrives, it will be at least six weeks before i'm cleared for "sex." It will probably be three months before i'm cleared for "contact sports." So Master and i already are jonesing for our heavy play, but know that for the sake of our little bundle, we will go at least five months before i sport a beautiful black bruise anywhere from anything fun. It's entirely likely that little bundle will be under one of our watchful eyes for at least a year, meaning it will be likely that our play will be conducted in the increments of naps, rather than hours and evenings.

But we know, too, that who we are does not change. He is the Owner, and i the property. We will shift and adjust, making space for the small person who rounds our family out to four, but what drives the deep, dark dreams of our hearts will continue to spiral around our kinks and fetishes. And we'll find a playground for our inner monsters. And down the line, there will be steak.

p.s. sorry for all the steak references. a wonderful kinkster i follow on twitter posted a beautiful food porn twitpic when i wrote this. 

Looming...

This morning, Master and i were both really tired people. We're still both really tired people. Last week His schedule was all mucked up and neither of us felt like we were able to truly unwind. In our tiredness, though, the realizations of how much is about to change were bounding through our brains.

As He was getting ready to head out the door for work, Master said "I suppose we need to seriously talk about taking that off of you, in case we have to go to the hospital early." i knew what He was talking about right away - the chain that is His symbol of ownership. In September, four years ago, Master put a permanent collar around my neck. It has no lock. It has no clasp. It is an eternal loop - a symbol of my perpetual slavery.

i was afraid of it when He put it on me. "What will other people think?" i wondered and worried. i wore a lot of turtlenecks that winter. But no one really noticed. No one asked. No one pointed at it and asked what the hell was up with that curb chain. Some did eventually. (Especially when i got shit about it going through a metal detector. That's a fun story. Maybe i'll tell it later.) i wound up telling people that it was a symbol of commitment if they asked. Most of them didn't ask what it was a symbol of commitment to. One would think that would spark some serious questions; i'm surprised it never has. The chain around my neck has become such a part of me that i no longer care who sees it. i think i wound up throwing away most of my turtlenecks, even. i am no longer afraid of being seen as a collared, chained creature. Because it is what i am.

Most of the links are solid - only one is not. And it is not a weak link. Master has picked me up by this chain He put around my neck. But because of the drastic changes that are coming, it must come off before it is at risk for being cut off of me with no respect, no ritual.

So, sometime soon, Master and i will hunt for the link, and He will take the collar from around my neck, and i will feel naked and vulnerable. i will miss its steady weight, its jingle. Until Master can put it back, anyway.

The hunt for subspace

i was chatting with some twitter friends about subspace a while ago. You know, that elusive place some people say doesn't exist, and others are able to drop into with the first full minute of play? Well, i'm not gonna argue its existence or what it is, or how it comes about (the chemistry of it, i mean) or any of that. Nope. Not gonna.

Because i think it's a little different for most folks.

For me, when i fall into subspace from bondage, i feel floaty and small, protected and fulfilled. i feel like i find subspace easier in bondage. And i don't even have to be particularly happy about the kind of bondage -- just restrained in such a way that i can't move much or go very far. i'll get that floaty feeling from being left in the cage for a few hours. i'll find myself all tiny and contained after i've fought against ropes that i'm not enjoying.

On the other hand, there's the more elusive (for me) subspace from impact play. i love, love impact play -- especially when it's Master's hands and feet. Kicks and punches. Yummy. Of course, i'm learning that i really can enjoy play with single tails, too. But from impact play, i get an adrenaline high. i'm spiked up, though i may be loopy and feel soft and malleable to Master's will. Unless. Unless He clocks those nerves on the outside of the thigh with an epic bunny-punch. And then i'm just a pile of sobby happy goo.

So which one is my subspace? Both. But what they do, and how i get there -- they're vastly different. But then, my subspace isn't the same as someone else's; because it's mine. The adventure is finding it.