One Third Married

Master and i have known each other for a long time. We were, as i believe we've mentioned (or argue over - we can't agree on what year we met!), childhood sweethearts. We have known each other more than half of our lives; closer to over two-thirds of our lives, actually. It's insane, and according to more than one person we've talked to, practically unheard of. People gasp when they ask how many years we've celebrated when we mention our anniversary. We laugh. We look at each other like newlyweds. A friend of ours recently commented that they really appreciate the "puppy-love" we have in our relationship, that sense of closeness and cuteness that couples newly in-love celebrate.

Looking back, having passed one-third of our lives together married (and approaching the 13th year of our kinkiness!), i realize exactly how fortunate i have been to find my soul-mate so early in my life and find that despite the different roads we took to come back together, we evolved together, our souls spun in such a way that they are a perfect fit, and as they continue to grow together and evolve together, i am grateful for all of our "sames" and "differents." i am grateful that our branches grow ever more entwined and tangled in each other, supporting the other, and all the needs of the other, while receiving the same support.

We compliment each other in the best ways, and i will forever appreciate His strength, the connection He gives me to a life full of love and blessings. His solidarity, in times where i flounder and grieve, keep me connected and aware of His love. His ability to pull away and seem cold-hearted, too, is something i treasure - those moments in which i can fall happily, helplessly, into the hands of a sadist who appears to be without mercy...(That might be my favorite. ;) At least, sometimes it is.)

All of it, i love. And i look forward, gratefully, to more years to find myself further entangled in His arms, His ropes, His leather, His love.

A funny little note: the friend is kink-curious...

But i'm not sure we've mentioned puppy play around him... 

Yet...

Wake Up and Breathe:

(Warning: Breath Play. We practice Risk Aware Consentual Kink, and Master is CPR certified.)

i never sleep very well, or very long. My record for sleeping in in the last five years (that includes time before my pregnancy) is probably 8.5 hours -- my average is probably about 5.5 or 6. So even everything that came before that lovely morning in the hotel couldn't get me to "sleep in."

Waking up still bound and laying close to my Master felt absolutely wonderful though -- as if i do live a charmed life. Well...i belong to a man who knows the color and tint of my soul, who understands my drives and desires at least as well as i do, if not better...i do live a charmed life. But that morning, i really felt it.

And i moved against Him, kissing His bare shoulder, His lightly freckled skin at the base of His neck, and the beast in Him was awakened. He rolled over me, and possessed me in every way He is able. Gasping from the sorenesses all over my body, from the joy and pleasure of Him using me, the pain of new impacts.

Master paused for a moment and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab something. It crinkled. And even before i saw it, i begged, i whimpered...

But it is not my choice to stop, and it is Master's price for the occasional cigarettes He allows me to have. And all debts must be paid. The plastic goes over my head and i can feel it drive His excitement through His cock in me, and i hate it already. i hate the heat of it, my breath making the bag too warm. In just moments, before He even closes it, it is already too warm for the air to feel fresh. But that morning...that morning there was also rope to close the bag. Panic took hold of my body, and yet the rhythm of Him rocking in me, with me, kept me from doing more than clawing at His shoulder. His blood under my nails, and then air, real air, to breathe, cool, and full of the scent of us...and then the stuffy, hot, plastic...again...and His need driven ever closer to the edge.

And then we're over the edge.

A few more moments, breathing together, sticking together and listening to our hearts race before we had to think about returning to the mundane, before giving up the simple, lusted after Owner and property to the more complex roles of our life...

And it was worth it...We were refreshed.

Weekend of Refreshment:

Master and i were in desprate need of some time together. So much running about with school for both of us, His work, and of course, taking care of our little person had definitely taken its toll.

What better weekend to brave the adventures of our son's first overnight than the weekend of Master's birthday?

Thankfully, my concerns about our boy's first overnight with his grandmother were completely negated and he had a most excellent time, leaving Master and i to have our own fun in a hotel room.

While i expected to be fraught with concern for the kiddo, Master didn't give me time to do so. He immediately put me on the floor, while He sat comfortarbly at the desk/table, while we indulged in a rare treat: KFC. After slurping down energy drinks and letting our tummies settle, Master broke out our toybag. Since we don't really have the space at home, Master felt that first a heavy flogging would be a nice start.

It wasn't easy to sink into the flogging, the impacts, as it had been a long time since we'd had the opportunity to really get into some heavy play. It burned. And i wanted it to stop, but i didn't want it to end, either. i fought against the burning thud, fought to maintain the composure Master asked me to have, and at the same time, my body reacts the way it always does -- more, more, more, please, i want it, i want to hurt that way. i wanted it...

And more there was; Master eventually flipped me around, put spreader bars between my arms and legs, with the spreader bar holding my arms behind the recliner and trapping me oh-so-effectively. At His mercy, with clover clamps crushing my nipples while He whacked my thighs and breasts, clamped tits and whatever other target delighted Him with the evil white plastic spoon, smacked me in the face with His gloved hands, pinched, pulled and smacked my breasts with the same.

But more than the floggings, smackings, beatings, and clamps -- more than anything else up to that point, and maybe more than the pain and pleasure that came later -- was the talk.

Master's voice cuts through me. It just does. It always has.

He told me that He loved me, but that won't save me from His desires. It won't save me from the cruelities that dwell in His heart. He loves me, but as much as He loves me, He wants to hurt me. And i've given myself to Him, and now, now all there is for me to do is suffer through it. i chose to let Him hurt me, forever and a day.

And i made that choice, knowing what He wanted, made that choice because i want to be hurt, and more specifically, want Him to be the one to hurt me.

And that is the deepest, darkest truth in my soul. i knew what He was, and i wanted that.

Hearing that truth spill from His lips made me twitch in all sorts of tasty ways.

(Part one...There will be more -- for there was!)

Down, right, left and sideways...

In November, December and the opening of January, it seems that everything in our life was any way but right-side up. Not only was our sex life on hold, but my ability to be submissive in many ways was hampered. It was, hellish. Master was on edge, i was on edge, and i didn't know how to make any of it better. It seemed that everything i did threw a wrench in moving towards a more positive head-space, and i was very, very down on myself and who i was.

While things haven't rotated back to upright, exactly, they are moving in that direction. My health is coming back on track, though not without side-effects. i'm finding my place again, seeking that ability to live without question, to strive to be pleasing, to simply submit and obey.

Mostly, i'm celebrating the sex. Though i'll admit that my Master's libido far outstrips my own, sex has become an integral part of my needs. It's not the orgasams ─ though i am always happy to be allowed them ─ it's the connection, it's everything He puts into sex. It's not "just" sex. (In fact, i think it might take a long period of abstenence for "just" sex to be interesting to me.) During sex, He feeds His sadism, wakes up my masochistic streak...

And it delights me, it fulfills me.

i love being reduced to nothing more than His little sex-object...

To feel Him steal my breath, give me pain, to fuck me until the only thing i can see are His eyes and starlight...

Ah, sex with Him is pain, bliss, agonizing delirium and pure extacy with a dash of humiliation.

Exactly what i crave, even when i might not realize it's what i need.

Ahh, if only neither of us needed sleep, i think we'd have lovely evenings... i can think of nothing better than spending the wee hours of the evening tangled in each other's limbs, rope and whatever other toys we might have pulled out to satisfy those darker desires that lay within our souls...

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.