So rare...

Warning (or Tease): this post contains breath play.

The hardest thing about life is it never leaves you alone. You can be sitting there, minding your own business and then its there, poking you in the head, pulling on your shirt, screaming for your attention... (Though i have personified life as a child, i am not actually referring to the child in particular.) And when it goes quiet, you have the decision of what to do, go and poke it for a change or let it lie and steal the moment for your own...

Master and i often struggle with that decision. But thankfully, yesterday we did take the opportunity to let everything outside our door stay outside our door for a little interlude.

Did you know they make hot pink duct tape now? It's awesome (but not as awesome as the purple or the tie-dye version).

So, as i lay there, bound down with my arms out to the sides, Master brought the hot pink duct tape out and quite securely, taped my mouth shut. It is a lovely feeling, for me, to be helpless and voiceless. It also has various levels of frustrations, depending on how many questions Master feels like asking while i can't pry my mouth open. But in this case, it was primarily lovely. i have missed duct tape. We haven't played much with it lately...

(One quick aside: once upon a time, Master wrapped me in a corset made of duct tape. That was fun. And more than five years ago. Sadness for me.)

What really made that session, though, was probably the breath play. Like i've said before, some aspects of breath play make me twitchy and nervous. Has anyone out there ever had duct tape over their nose?

i have now. It was horrifyingly amazing. The fight of it, unable to really do anything about it, and hear Master tell me it was fine, that He was there, that it would only go as far as He wanted it to go. It was . . . wow. There was panic, there was the fight of my body doing what its' supposed to be doing (trying to get fresh air), and yet there was trust riding over all of those things. The more the panic rose, the more the trust did, too. i was frantic, but, almost not.

And then the duct tape was ripped off (and it felt like part of my face, too) and the air rushed in. The panic receded, but the trust didn't. i was calm, cool and blissed out...

Today, i have a little bit of my cheek flesh that's tender and i keep touching it, pushing on it, just a little bit, making it sting for just a second, while i smile.

Balance

There's been a feeling of being out of sorts building up in me for a while now. An uncomfortable feeling with the word "slave" but not with my life or how Master treats me. Because i am loathe to talk about something when i don't understand the whys of it, i haven't said anything to Master before today.

Of course, it did upset Him a bit. We talked about it, He prodded and poked, trying to figure out why. But i still don't know.

That's okay. Because after we had mulled it over, spent some time laying close together, all snuggly and comfortable, Master made one of His extraordinarily quick movements and had me pinned down to the floor by my neck. He asked me if i had a problem with how He treats me, with being property. i gave Him an honest answer: i need it, i want it, i am His property.

So He called me "slave" over and over again, and put pressure on my throat, His big, strong hand clamping down while i tried to squirm away. He didn't let me go, and told me to say it. i fought, still not knowing why i am having such a catch with the word. He squeezed while i wouldn't say it and everything but His piercing eyes became fuzzy, my head felt like it was ten times too big, swollen and tight...

He talked to me, quietly, reminding me that if i had no problems with the way i am treated, with being property, than "slave" isn't any different. And even while i squirmed, trying to get a full breath of air, He spoke, so calmly, so logically.

i said it. And while there's still some undetermined feelings about it, i know i am. i know i enjoy it, need it, crave it. It is what i am.

But i needed His calm, cool, collected force and show of strength to help me find a place to accept myself as His slave. His cruelty balanced so delicately with kindness, His strength and gentleness, His passion countered by logic -- those things are my safe-haven.

April!

Hmmm. March and spring break kind of slipped away. i cannot believe it is April already...

And i had a nice surprise when Biddable passed on the Beautiful Blogger Award to me. And she said she was flabbergasted when it was given to her! Ha! i am tongue-tied, red-faced and completely surprised that she passed it to me.

Now, three bloggers that i think deserve the award:

Carrie-Ann, because even at her "snarkiest," she is brilliant, funny and a joy to read... On top of that, she's hot, and i love it when she dyes her hair pink.

Rayne, because she's beautifully funny, intelligent and honest about what's going on in her life, even when it's hard to make sense of it. Also, she's a really beautiful gal and has such a stunning smile!

libby, because she shares little "dibbles" (it is too a word and it seems appropriate to the way i am thinking about libby's blogs) that really make me think about what i am and why it is i do what i do, i also admire her for her skills in balancing motherhood and slavery, and she's doing an extraordinary job, and now expecting twins! (Congrats, by the way!) i don't know what she looks like, but if butterflies talked, she would sound like butterflies.

(i totally would have tagged Biddable, if she hadn't tagged me first... Her writing almost always gives me a smirk, and she also has a lot of grace in domestic and slavey-ways. Plus the way she writes is hot, and i'd be willing to guess she is also sexy.)

Now i'm supposed to include seven things you might not know about me:

1. i swore i'd never use oil paints for my paintings, but now i love them. (i think i've mentioned that i'm an artsy type before.)

2. i don't think there's anything extraordinary about me.

3. i like all kinds of music, up to rap. my favorites are things my Master doesn't like, like Pink Floyd, the Moody Blues and some random country. i also like recording artists like Pink, Lady Gaga, Blue October and Stained.

4. my most favorite artist is Vincent Van Gogh, though my style is very different from his impasto.

5. i often procrastinate ahead of schedule. If something is supposed to be done in two weeks, i will procrastinate for five days and then finish the task a week ahead of schedule.

6. Master and i don't have television...we watch our shows online and use our television for movies and video games.

7. i have had one seizure in my life, when i was a kid, but it has never happened again.

Caged Meat...

Thank the gods for Spring Break! A couple of days without academic distractions, coupled with a bit of creative parenting, and this could be the start of some real fun. Earlier today, I pulled the dog cage out of the closet and had it assembled in no time, I'm getting really good at putting it together quickly.

When my pet returned from an errand, we had a quick bite for lunch, and into the cage she went, naked of course. She had no idea how long she was going to be in it, even I didn't have a specific time in mind. A sheet over the top separated her from the world outside the cage and kept the boy from seeing mommy in such a vulnerable, and difficult to explain, position.

My slave remained caged for nearly three hours before our dinner plan for the evening required her release. Three hours of relative quite, peace, and reflection, with occasional ordered orgasms and impacts upon the cage bars, just to rattle her a little. You should have seen her eyes, dilated almost as wide as her iris and a cunt so wet her thighs were moist. Once out, she knelt, legs spread wide like the little slut slave she is and she kissed my foot, thanking me. I hadn't felt that right in a while now.

Best part is, the cage will remain set up for the rest of Spring Break and available at a moment's notice to lock her away. What better way to ensure that a slave knows just how owned and controlled she is than to be locked away in a small cage for hours on her Master's whim?...

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

So, yesterday, my dear Master blogged about the aggravations we're experiencing. He talked about how He's become frustrated with the subtle aspects that we have in our relationship, and how desperately we need time to connect, time to be the sadist and masochist, the torturer and the tortured.

And later that evening, the stars aligned and the door to our play space was open, inviting and child free.

We looked at each other, a bit giddy, and then the primal needs took over. A few whacks with a flogger seemed lacking, but the snap of the bamboo cane Master recently obtained from the sub-shop hit home. Whacks to my ample bottom and thighs got my feet kicking, and Master whacked those some, too. Delicious, that. (i hope He'll cane my feet again soon!) As i squirmed about, Master moved on to the front, and whacks over my breasts and ribs had me confusedly trying to escape and remain still all at once.

As i found myself bound down, Master fished out an inflatable gag along with the ring gag, clover clamps and a few bamboo skewers. After he had gagged me, using the ring gag to ensure that i didn't have the chance to force out the inflatable gag, i found myself buried in deliriously delicious pain as Master carved a word into my flesh with the point of the bamboo skewer.

As Master fucked me (glory!), the clovers bounced about, tightening as they tend to do, while He whacked upon my breasts and ribs with the skewer. It wasn't long before i was struggling to beg His permission to cum. Devious as He is, He refused until i would acquiesce to the butt plug. Four opportunities came and went (have i mentioned i'm stubborn and a little bull headed?) before i agreed.

Of course, the blinding delight soon followed, for Master is true to his word, and orgasms followed, delighting both of us. And, we are, for a bit, content again, Master securely in His place as the cruel, demanding and loving one, and me safely below, subjugated property, adoring the one who owns her with the word "bitch" carved into her torso.

We hope this trend continues!

please, oh, please!

P.S. Remember it's still March...If you have questions, ask us and we'll answer!

When Try Becomes an Excuse...

As we have written about a great deal, our opportunities for play have dried up like a watering hole on the Sahara thanks to our little one. We have tried to sate ourselves on the subtler aspects of our high protocol dynamic, but it seems more and more that this just serves to remind us both how lacking everything is.

This has also brought with it an interesting situation. To be completely honest, as I expect my slave to be, when faced with a task she is unsure about she tells me she will try. For instance, I gave her a paddling just the other day for not getting the laundry put away the day she brought it home from the laundromat. This gave our son plenty of time to spread it around the bedroom and nearly the whole house. Obviously, not good. Not to mention the wrinkles in my work clothes that are just unacceptable.

After the punishment, I asked her if she was going to remember to put the laundry away right away the next time. She responded with, "i'll try, Master." Now once in a while or when I know there might be something that will potentially interfere with her ability to get some task done, I can accept i'll try. However, it seems that I hear that being uttered every time I tell her to do something or to be more mindful of something. It appears to me that i'll try has become a blanket excuse for only putting forth the barest of effort. When there is a task for someone to do, whether it is knowingly within their ability or not and they approach it with try, it seems that the task is less likely to get done. This largely strikes me as a huge lack of commitment. I also cannot help but hear Jedi Master Yoda every time she says i'll try, "Do, or do not. There is no try," and though I'm a huge Star Wars fan, that little green bastard is getting damned repetitive.

I know that right now there are a number of huge demands upon both of our time. Our son and my slave's school work have taken an obvious tole. As mentioned before, I feel that school should take some priority, especially since in doing so she is obeying my wishes. However, I cannot help but feel that any and all other desires or interests that I may have have fallen so far along the way side that I cannot even see them in the rear view mirrors any more.

I feel what is needed is a re-dedication to her role as my slave through heavy, immersive play and punishments. However, such activities have little chance to be realized for a long time, thus causing the whole thing to circle back around to the beginning. What fun...

March Q&A Madness...

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