Having it All

One very large aspect of any human being is their emotions.  And granted, sometimes it is very easy for my emotions to swell and rise with affection towards my Master.  Yet other times, not so much, lol.

The intrusion of negative emotions is a difficult area to bring under Master’s control. And I’m not quite sure how this is done, though I suspect it begins with deep introspection into the underlying thought processes of a slave’s mind.

For thoughts certainly precede emotions. So, logically, in order to change one’s feelings, one must first work on the thinking process that goes on in any given situation.

Now, I am no psychologist, nor have I any training in such an area. I just know how things work for me. Usually, when I’m having a negative emotional response to something, there is this whole series of statements I’m hearing in my head. I basically talk to myself in my mind. And what I am saying and hearing is going to determine how I am feeling.

This is the reason affirmations are so powerful. Master does not make me meditate on any specific types of affirmations, but I can see where this would be a very useful tool in reprogramming some of the negative thinking that plagues me at times.

Thinking some directive from Master is grossly unfair, or irrelevant, or impossible, or unpleasant and unwanted does not serve me well, and as a result, does not serve him well, and can lead to negative feelings like irritation, annoyance, and anger.

Master instead, wants me to have an attitude of acceptance, obedience, and acknowledgement of the value of his ownership. I meditate on my knees for twenty minutes every day on the value of his ownership during my devotional time. This helps keep my focus where it should be: feeling gratitude for my Master’s ownership and all that that entails in my life.

”It isn’t my job, nor my inclination, to make your enslavement easy for you by spelling out every little thing I want from you.

It is easy to take your body… It is easy to take your sexuality… but that isn’t why I’m here.

I want all of you… I want you to reach the point where every aspect of you is devoted to me.

I want it hard-wired.

I want it innate.

I want it all.

You know what?

I’ll have it all, too”

~ Master

Alignment

My mind is a jumble of thoughts and feelings. My body is weary and empty from too many surging emotions. My energy is wilted. My mouth is dry. My body aches, even in places it has never ached before. Places no human being should ache. My eyes are scratchy and my contact lenses clouded.

This morning I wrestled with who I am, and I literally wrestled with Who owns me.

I do know who I am in the broadest sense. In the sense that it matters absolutely the most. I am a slave. I am my Master’s property. That is the beginning and end of who it is that I am. How do I know this? Master showed me. He showed me last night. He showed me again today. This is called ‘alignment’ in my world; and it hurts. Sometimes it hurts more, and sometimes less. Today it hurt the most.

Master told me last night that I was to sleep naked with my ankles cuffed but not linked together as they usually are. I told him that it felt like he was punishing me for some reason. He assured me emphatically that no, it was not a punishment, that instead it was to make me fully appreciate his blessings. I cried, “As much as I complain about it, taking it away is like taking away yourself.” To which Master replied, “Those are my instructions. Get yourself ready for sleep.”

I did as I was told. Master then tucked me in with these words:

“And listen to this carefully: This is no punishment…it is a one-night departure, so that you do not come to take my blessings for granted. I want you to feel the deprivation.”

I worried that he felt me straying from him.

He replied, “No. I remind myself from time to time…to chuck you under then chin and scramble your assumptions a bit; to slap you (lightly in this case) on the face for no reason; before there is a reason.”

And then, he uttered the sweetest words:

“If I could be granted a wish… it is that you would settle deep into your pillows and sleep deeply all night long… secure in the unshakeable certainty of your enslavement to me.”

I tried to sleep, ankles pressed together for security. Sleep found me relatively quickly and waking only once, it was a sound sleep. But when the alarm rang, I was having a dream in which Master was not pleased with me. Reminded at once of my lack of restraints, I felt slightly grumpy.

No, more like angry. I was angry with him for making me sleep like that; a totally irrational thought, I know. But still, there it was, draping me like some sticky, filmy cobweb.

I was tired. And I’d allowed myself extra sleep. I was accustomed to waking much earlier on mornings I meet with Master, but this morning I’d decided that since the meeting place was not quite as far for me as usual, I could afford the luxury of perhaps another hour’s sleep.

Traffic was agonizingly slow, and the half-hour trip doubled. Still, I arrived well before Master, set up the room with my suitcase and his coffee, sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

And as I waited, I quickly realized it was one of those days when I didn’t particularly feel like serving. Well, serving in masochistic ways, that is. My body had arrived at that pre-menstrual ultra-sensitive point of my cycle; pain was going to be a bitch.

Alternatively fidgeting there on the bed, and standing up to pace the small room, I waited. And waited. Actually, the wait wasn’t all that long; but it felt like an eternity.

Soon Master arrived, entering the room all smiles as he usually does, happy to see his slaveflesh. He strode right over to me and at once began squeezing and plying my uber-tender breasts. My hands went up to block him; grabbing my wrists firmly, he pushed me back, pinning me on the bed.

His legs straddled mine, squeezing them together thereby immobilizing me further. My blouse was pushed up and his teeth tormented my nipples, sucking and gnawing, until I was quickly reduced to a sobbing mess. And he was really not chewing all that hard, I just did not want to be touched. Anywhere.

After the first waterworks, I was pulled upright by my nipples and stripped of all my clothing. The cuffs were handed to me and I dutifully applied them to ankles and wrists. I was pushed face-down onto the bed and a hogtie restraint was applied. I whimpered woefully and buried my still-wet face into the sheets.

Something began raining down hard on my bottom. I suspected leather, but it was in fact a large wooden spoon. Groaning and writhing, I took it as best I could under the circumstances. Soon, my hog-tied hands tried blocking the blows. Master merely moved them out of the way and continued, stopping periodically to check my slobbering pussy for, well, wetness. I cried in frustration that it wasn’t fair! My body betrays me every time.

Master again stopped and went to the suitcase to retrieve another implement of torture while I, rapidly panting, tried to find the light. (Either that or sub-space, which I never have been able to find.) I knew if I could just find the light and go into it, I would be safe. I figured maybe there was hope of finding the light. But no; no such luck.

I felt Master’s fingers spreading my cheeks and fingering my puckered anus. Then, something cold, and then, something entering me. I squirmed. The assault of wooden spoon resumed. It seemed to be directed at my innermost cheeks and when I blocked them, Master went for the thighs.

I had been fearing a lot of pain this morning, and while the spoon certainly was smarting an awful lot, still, I seemed to be able to bear it fairly well, even though I desperately was not in the mood for any of it.

Master again put down the spoon, took the small plug from my ass and replaced it with this god-awful thing I was stupid enough to buy as a replacement for an older plug I used to have.

He lubed it right up and began pushing, and pushing, and pushing this thing inside of me. It was giganormous. It was way more than my little asshole and … whatever else could accommodate! I was being ass-raped, and I started to act like it. I began screaming at the top of my lungs to “Stop!!! Take it out!!! No!!! Please, I’m begging you, take it out!!!” All the while, Master was definitely NOT taking it out, but was firmly shoving it in that much harder, ass-raping me with that thing.

I was freaking out. I wanted him to stop, and stop NOW. I wasn’t kidding. If he didn’t stop, I was going to get up and walk out.

Well, almost.

Much later, he eventually did stop pushing on the end of it, and I choked and sobbed and cried and begged and wailed out my pain; because it felt like my ass was being ripped open. It hurt like childbirth minus the anesthetic.

My ass spasmed. The thing shot out. Master rammed it back in. I screamed and howled. Another spasm. Again, it popped out from the contraction. Again, Master shoved it back into place, fucking my ass with it a few times for good measure.

I writhed away, onto my side. Pop! Out it came. Master lifted my legs over my head like when you change a baby’s diaper and shoved that motherfucker back up into my ripped-open-asshole. I could feel it ramming me up to my teeth, I swear to god. I cannot believe I didn’t call him a motherfucker. I didn’t. I feared he would do worse; and I was still restrained. I bawled and shook.

And, Master was talking to me. I remember this.

“What?”

“Don’t you want to say something to me?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you want to say something to me?”

“Uhhh…”

I came out of my pain-filled fog as the thing popped out again and looked into his eyes as they bored into me. My asshole spasmed…

“I shouldn’t say no or stop.”

“What should you say to me?”

Longest pause…

“What should you say to me?”

A squeaky whisper,

“Thank you Master.”

“That’s a good girl.”

And then I sobbed more, wailing, “I’m not a good girl!” And Master agreed, that saying “no!” and “stop!” was not being a good girl and that I would still have to pay for that.

Louder sobbing. That wasn’t what I’d meant, and now he was seriously going to make me pay for breaking a rule! No matter that I felt utterly degraded and traumatized. No, I was still going to have to be punished. Unbelievable.

But by this point I was a broken slave. And he was right.

Isn’t this what I continually preach about? A slave is property. To be used in any way the Master wishes. Without her consent. (The “non-consent” portion of consensual non-consent)

Well it’s true. I am that slave. And I don’t have the right to say no or stop. And it makes no difference if I’m not in the mood, or I’m pms’ing and sensitive, or grumpy, or …. Well, just anything. It doesn’t matter.

Master told me something else I should be thankful for; that when I cried for him to stop, he didn’t.

He’s right about that also.

The blanket of acceptance and surrender wrapped me up not long after Master began raping my ass with that dreaded thing. I was awash in my slavery. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Master owned me; and owned me so fully, it was all-encompassing. No amount of self- anything would complete me. I was inextricably yoked to him as totally and perfectly as ever I could be.

I knelt, nose to the wall for ten minutes when I got home as punishment for my transgression.

“Help! Help! I’m being repressed!”

Repress: To put down by force, usually before total control has been lost; quell. ~~American Heritage Dictionary

Thanks to the Lesbian Sex Mafia, we can all rest assured that we will no longer be in danger of being abused. For they have compiled a very concise list that spells it all out for us, no doubt to keep our little submissive cunts safe from mean ol’ abusive Domly types out there, lying in wait to take advantage of us via our pretty little empty heads.

The Difference Between SM and Abuse

SM:

An SM scene is a controlled situation.

Abuse:

Abuse is an out-of-control situation.

SM:

Negotiation occurs before an SM scene to determine what will and will not happen in that scene.

Abuse:

One person determines what will happen.

SM:

Knowledgeable consent is given to the scene by all parties.

Abuse:

No consent is asked for or given.

SM:

The “bottom” has a safeword that allows them to stop the scene at any time they need to for physical or emotional reasons.

Abuse:

The person being abused cannot stop what is happening.

SM:

Everyone involved in the SM scene is concerned about needs, desires, and limits of others.

Abuse:

No concern is given to the needs, desires, and limits of the abused person.

SM:

The people in the SM scene are careful to be sure that they are not impaired by alcohol or drug use during the scene.

Abuse:

Alcohol or drugs are often used before an episode of abuse.

SM:

After an SM scene, the people involved feel good.

Abuse:

After an episode of abuse, the people involved feel bad.

I’m not sure if Master is aware of this or not, but according to the above statements, outside of maybe the first one, under his hand I am being abused. I’m sure he will chuckle reading this list. I admit to rolling my eyes.

Now granted, this list was not made with slaves in mind, but for those in S&M relationships. Still, a good portion of what we do involves S&M.

So far, in my experience as Master’s property, I have not seen him out of control. In his day-to-day life he does not lose his temper in ways that would be deemed out of control. I’ve never even heard him raise his voice. I rarely see him lose his patience. No, his is a very controlled abuse, lol.

Negotiation is not a part of what we do. Master always chooses, and never consults with me. He alone, always determines what will happen. In fact, if he were to ask me what I wanted, I would likely stare blankly at him, jaw agape in utter shock, feeling slightly uncomfortable. I would almost find that sadistic, lol, because it would be a definite turning of the tables! No, Master always chooses alone. And I prefer it that way!

No consent is asked for, though I suppose consent is usually given. I did that first time consent thing: I agreed to give up all my rights at the start of this relationship. Was it knowledgeable consent? Only in that I know what Master’s limits are, and thankfully they are some pretty good ones, though I can count them on one hand.

If Master chooses to use me hard, he doesn’t have to get my permission. That’s almost laughable. Is there ongoing consent? Well, we were having this little discussion this morning in fact, about the term consensual non-consent. I really dislike that term. For those of you unfamiliar with it, there is a definition here.

But yes, I suppose ongoing consent is usually a given. Otherwise, I simply would not still be with him. (More on this in another post, perhaps. It’s a sticky subject.) I say usually given because there are times when, if I were to be consulted, I would have screamed a loud “No!” and expected to be heeded; hence the non-consensual bit of the puzzle.

Master made it clear in his profile that he did not believe in ‘safe words’. What he does believe in, however, is simple communication: “Master, my foot is numb!” He can then choose to investigate, or let whatever it is go for the time being. His property; his choice. “You break it you bought it”… only, he already ‘bought’ it, so breaking it is his prerogative.

If true harm did come to me by way of Master’s hand, would I see that as abuse? No. I see that as a result of my choice to be his slave. I take personal responsibility for all my choices. If true harm comes to me as a result of that choice, I am not going to run and press charges. I didn’t have to go along with this, but I chose to. (A bit more of the ongoing consent theory here) I am not going to hold someone else accountable for my choices. I am, however, committed to remaining a useful slave to my Master.

“No concern is given to the needs, desires, and limits of the abused person.”

Well now see, I just don’t see it that way. Not at all. Because my needs, desires, and limits are slowly being replaced and will eventually mirror his. And furthermore, this act in and of itself gives me tremendous satisfaction, peace, and feelings of accomplishment.

Does Master use me while impaired from drugs or alcohol? Not yet. But if he did? Well, that would again be up to him; he’s my Owner. However, I chose a Master who can control himself. He isn’t likely to become careless with his property like that. And if harm resulted, I would still be his slave and perhaps the upkeep would be greater and he’d learn, lol.

Still, I do see what they are saying. The use of alcohol to the point that it impairs some people can produce a frenzy of rage that often leaves a path of terrible abuse in its wake.

Those people obviously should abstain from alcohol before laying a hand on their precious property. Again, I chose wisely, and so should you.

As to abuse making people feel bad, I suppose for some that’s true. There are also those for whom it is not true. Plenty, in fact. If the person is truly a masochist, abuse can be what sends them to the stars and back. It can be a very, very positive thing. Some thrive on being abused.

It just doesn’t happen to be problematic for me in my relationship. Suffering through a very difficult, painful and abusive session where I come out of it feeling completely leveled and empty for awhile, well, yeah, it pretty much sucks at first. But afterwards, it makes me feel a real sense of accomplishment and pride. I am so proud of being able to be of use to my Master in this way. Best not to make blanket statements like “after an episode of abuse, people feel bad.”

I realize that abuse does happen in these types of relationships and that the definition of abuse varies from couple to couple. I suppose a list like this is useful for some folks. But personally, I think that the folks who would benefit most from this list don’t belong in the lifestyle in the first place.

If you need a list to tell you that you are in a bad relationship, then S&M is the last place you should be looking for fulfillment. You have got huge personal, emotional issues to work out first. If you don’t realize that you are not thriving, without a list to show you, how can you even be responsible for yourself? How did you make it through your adult life this far?? That boggles my mind. Just sayin’.

self-sufficiency

Work was challenging for me this week. In part, because I am still feeling quite under the weather, but also in part because of this one patient in particular I was caring for.

She is in her thirties suffering from a very severe fungal type lung infection resulting from steroid treatment of a very mysterious underlying condition, the exact diagnosis of which has eluded our doctors for some six months now.

So sick was this poor woman, that the mere act of trying to eat and drink compromised her breathing so much that I needed to supervise her meals while exchanging her breathing machine for a high flow oxygen mask. She was treading on dangerous ground, just steps away from being intubated and on a ventilator. And she was really scared.

I put a lot of energy into caring for this woman, tending to her body, mind, and spirit. It was both rewarding and draining at the same time. In addition, I was in charge those two days.

To say that work puts me in a sort of dominant mode is an understatement. And the residual effects when I am off work, at home speaking to Master are sometimes… well, to him I guess laughable.

I was bemoaning the fact that somehow, being at my job and away from him for any length of time makes me feel disconnected from my slavery. I’d asked Master if the same thing happened in reverse for him.

Master: You know, now that you mention it, it does. I need to feel my hands on you. I need to hear you, the way you sound in my grasp.

slave: I love your hands on me; now that i’ve gotten over the urge to smack them away when they’re hurting.

Master: After all, when my hands go to you… they go to what is mine; far be it from you to intervene.

slave: That’s just the thing though; when we’re apart, it all feels like it’s mine again.

Master: It might drift a bit in that direction… but you know better… and I know it doesn’t “feel like it’s [yours] again”

slave: I’m basically pretty selfish. I don’t like that feeling.

Master: I thought I grabbed all the selfish chips for myself around here.

slave: I’m more like a Master than you know.

Master: The fuck you are. Would you care to wager some money on that? bet to be resolved tomorrow night.

slave: …um, no.

Master: *nods* Oh, about tomorrow, I want you in that hotel bar… the one where we couldn’t get a seat last time… wearing something slutty… waiting for me. Be there by 8… if I’m going to be earlier, I’ll let you know

slave: Yes Sir.

Master: Quick question… Still feeling more like a Master than I know?

slave: No. No, no…

Master: I didn’t think so. Then again… I didn’t think so when you first said it, either

slave: I think, what I was saying is, that it’s never far from the surface. when we’re apart, I revert back to … whatever I am; the part that isn’t slavish.

Master: You revert back to a measure of self-sufficiency.

slave: Yes. You tamp it down well. And fast, I might add.

Master: *nods* I know. that is okay… my enslavement of you is bigger than that. It can handle the parts of you that need to be self-sufficient.

slave: Honestly, I hate those parts. They trouble me; as much as I need them… Blah. *thinks* You know why?

Master: Why?

slave: because I feel like a yo-yo. up and down, up and down

Master: Well, you’re wrong in that. It isn’t a yo-yo thing. Episodes of self-sufficiency are not exceptions to your enslavement to me, although… I know it feels bad to you. There is never a moment when you aren’t mine. Never a moment that you will not do what I expect of you.

Master: If I told you to go to the garage in your PJs right now… and drive straight here to [where he was, several hundred miles away that night], you would. I guess I’m saying…don’t over-think or over-stress that you have those feelings; they don’t change the fundamentals.

“““““““““““““““““`

Red lips, hair coiffed and sprayed just so, face painted like a whore, black stockings, black pumps, black skirt and top, showing plenty of tits and leg, the owned slave strides to brightly-lit hotel bar. Finding it closed, she crosses the crowded hotel lobby to the other bar; the darker, more sensuous bar.

The barstools are littered exclusively with men. Finding a seat for herself on the end, two chairs away from a well-dressed Pakistani, she eases herself into the soft leather. Nervous fingers fondle more leather, a padded railing, matching the color of her skirt. Idly she fantasizes her owner pushing her up onto the bar, bending her slutty frame over this cushioned leather rail. She gives it a slight squeeze…

Feeling hot breath on the back of her neck she looks up and into the darkest eyes of the man who owns her; exclusively. His hands go straight for her hair tugging down hard, forcing her gaze to meet his. His mouth takes hers in a possessive kiss, tongue plunging, teeth biting, taking what belongs only to him. He slaps her face hard once, twice. She gasps for air and even as he pulls away a slender tear traces a path cutting through her well-rouged cheeks.

He pays the check, wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her powerfully along the path up to their room, moving slightly faster than her high heels will allow her form to gracefully manage.

Reaching the room he leads her inside, locking and bolting the door behind them. She is quickly shoved to her knees as cock meets slave throat and her head buzzes from the alcohol. Pumping in and out, his hands trash both hair and just-so made-up-face as he tugs and pulls, violently fucking her pretty, painted mouth; His mouth.

Feeling a sharp pain in her head she feels her hair yanked by the roots as she rises and just as quickly is turned around and pushed face-down onto the bed. Black silk panties are roughly tugged down and off, skirt shoved up over her back as her hips are tugged back and all at once his hard cock is forced all the way in her puckered ass.

It is a rape. Pure and simple. There is moaning and groaning and growling and screaming, but she has little fight in her. The growling is coming from her as her head is again yanked back by the hair, face slapped hard twice, then teeth go to biting her mouth and chest. Screaming and submitting to her slavery, this slave knows who her Master is.

Self-sufficiency is no match for my Owner’s enslavement.

Twists and Turns

I’ve been sick, and as my head is full of congestion, my thoughts have similarly been, well, congested.

I’ve had a lot, LOT on my mind. Reading fetlife sparked so many interesting ideas. I’ll start with just one, alright, well, two; that of honesty and trust in M/s relationships.

Of course the pat answer regarding the importance of honesty and trust in an M/s relationship is that YES! By God Yes! Honesty and Trust are paramount to a healthy, sane, successful, TRUE M/s relationship!! Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t it be so?? Anyone who says trust and honesty aren’t foundational has a screw loose! Or two!! Or three!!!

Well.

Just …. hmmm….

And then there is a new camp that has infiltrated fetlife. This camp believes heavily in personal responsibility in M/s relationships. How noble is that? Everything that happens to you, everything you endure whether deemed good or bad, it ultimately falls on your shoulders to bear. You have choices. You either stay, and deal or you get the fuck out. If you stay, you cannot cry about broken trust or dishonesty. You accept what is, and you cling to whatever helps you in order to remain with Him.

He didn’t do this to you; you did this to yourself by staying. If you cry foul, you only have yourself to blame for still being there. Or something. Perhaps you were asking for it. Perhaps your behavior was such that a swift punch in the face was warranted. You provoked him because you wanted to put him in the position of feeling horrible for doing it, thereby taking the upper hand and forcing the intimacy you so desperately wanted/needed.

How fucked up is that?

I just don’t even know anymore. The thing is, this works for some couples. It may seem dysfunctional as hell, but it works and they stay and they defend it. Who am I to judge another couple’s dynamic? I’m nobody. I only know what works/doesn’t work for me.

Or do I?

I certainly can see the logic of doing what is necessary to be with Him. Whatever that is. For there is a need, no, a soul ache to be with Him all the time. Anything that distances me from him is considered (by me) bad; anything that brings me closer is considered (again by me) good.

Whining and complaining? Bad. Why? It pushes him away; eventually. Compliance, realignment to his way of thinking, malleability, all good; he thrives on this type of response in me, and therefore I thrive as well.

But isn’t even this manipulation? Does whining and complaining really drive him away?

In our case, the answer would be no, it does not exactly drive him away; my punishment may be a bit of distancing until my behavior is amended and I am brought back to heel. In that case, I am the one choosing my fate.

If I continue on in the whining/complaining vein, I’m going to reap the fruit of that behavior, which might be a bit of Master withdrawing from me for a time until I decided to bend myself back to his will.

When am I ever going to learn that I cannot bend this man to MY will??

It cannot be done. Over, and over, and over again still he has proven to me that it simply cannot be done. He is not bending. The only one bending and sometimes breaking here is me.

Is that healthy? I can’t speak for others but in my case, yes; yes, this is healthy for me.

For the first time in my life I am playing by new rules. I am not permitted to lead this relationship and if I attempt such a thing I am swiftly and surely smacked back down into my obeisant place.

What does all this have to do with honesty and trust? Plenty.

I believe that the cry for honesty and trust is something which definitely has been used to try and control Master types.

“You lied to me!”

“But I trusted you!”

“You broke my trust!”

“How can I ever trust you again?”

What difference does it make? If you are owned property, nothing is owed you. Not honesty. Not trust. Nothing. And the sooner you drop those expectations, the better you will feel.

Expecting trust and honesty is like pinning yourself to the wall. This limits you. It sets you up for falls. Why do that to yourself?

The secret is in the choosing. Yes, that final choice a slave gets to make.

Choose your Master wisely, and then let it all go.

If your Master promised he would never fuck someone else and then did it on the sly without telling you, how would you feel? Would that feel like the biggest breach of trust? Would you feel lied to? Would I? Maybe. Probably.

But it really matters very little. You only bring yourself pain by adhering to the trust/honesty policy requirements. If the Master says one thing, and then turns around and does the other you have to ask yourself if you want honesty? Someone who is trustworthy? Or do you want to be with someone else? Because if you find yourself with someone who is not honest and not trustworthy, and you are getting your heart broken all over the place, then perhaps you’ve chosen poorly. Perhaps it isn’t worth being with Him. Perhaps the pain of staying in a relationship like that is too great.

Fine. You have choices. You leave.

But if you choose to stay? Then, my friend, you forget about what you thought you wanted and needed. You work on seeing the benefits to remaining with Him and you find your peace.

But your peace cannot come from wrangling another promise from his lips. Your peace must come from acceptance of the way things are as his slave.

Master shared a quote with me the other day:

“Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance”

Now, I’m not saying that I don’t value honesty and trust in our relationship; I do. I have chosen wisely. My owner is pretty honest and pretty trustworthy. Likewise, so am I. It does flow both ways. Master has pointed this out to me. He needs to be able to trust me as well.

What I am saying is, this new voice I’m hearing over at fetlife? They have a lot of wisdom. And I am learning so much from reading their various nuggets from their many years of experience living this stuff. I have the utmost respect and regard for these women. They make me think. And think hard. And I like that. It’s good for me.

And if my Master one day did breach that trust? He is only human after all.

Well, I cannot recall him ever promising anything to me other than the gift of his ownership. So there really isn’t anything I could cry foul about. I think he said that if his ownership had a detrimental effect on me, and I asked for my release, he would grant it. But then, he would be the judge of just what qualifies as detrimental.

Besides, my Master is not about breaking me to the point of no return. He surely enjoys breaking me from time to time for his own amusement. He enjoys cruelty for cruelty’s sake, and really, so do I; though I hate it at the time. He enjoys taking me to the far reaches of my ability to endure things I think; and perhaps he would say he has yet to really take me that far, I don’t know. Do I trust him?

I believe what he says. When he says, “I own you and I’m going to do whatever I want with you or without you because I’m your owner and you’re my property and because I can”, I believe him. I also believe that pretty much takes care of the whole honesty/trust issue in a nutshell.

Today

Today was a really good day. I spent the morning with Master. I told him today felt like a turning point for me.

What I mean by that is, today just flowed very naturally with him. And I love it when that happens. Today, I was completely attuned to both Master as well as myself. I was not fighting anything at all.

It seems like too many times, a part of me wants to protest what is happening. I don’t mean protest what is physically happening, although that surely happens from time to time. But internally, the voices I often hear that scream about too much pain and that frustrating sense of the loss of control, well today, they were silent.

Today I let go of myself.

Today, there was no fight in me

Today I was a slut in heat; Raw, powerful, edgy, horny cunt heat.

Today was beautiful.

Today, I was taken and consumed.

And today, I surrendered.

I love it when Master’s ownership takes me to that place reserved just for him. That place that is utterly and totally His. It’s hot! It feels so rejuvenating.

I think I’ve finally reached a place where I am totally surrendered to my slavery. I realize I say this very tongue-in-cheek. I know, know how changeable I can be. But still, in spite of Master’s little eye roll at my announcement, I want to put it out here for myself at least.

I know that there is peace for me in this journey. I know it because I experienced it today. Today, I would have taken anything and everything; gone anywhere and everywhere for Him; and for me.

Today he did not have to break me. For today, I was already broken at the start. That’s how fully surrendered I felt. As I said, there was this flow. It was heaven.

I wish I could bottle that sensation.

I believe it is meaningful. And I believe it was no accident.

My Master’s ownership, eighteen months thus far, has been chewing, clawing, and ripping its way deeply into my core, and in doing so has unveiled me. The changes are so evident when we’re together; that is, when I keep my flimsy walls down.

They were silly, insignificant walls anyway, for what can I really hide from the One who owns me? Very little it seems. He knows me better than I know myself. Or, more accurately, he brings to light what I know about myself but try to hide from myself.

Beyond that, I know who I am to him. And that knowledge alone makes things infinitely easier. I’m the property. He orders and I obey. If he says it is, it is. It doesn’t matter what I think. I won’t disagree. I won’t refuse. I am enslaved.

And my Master is safe.

But he is I tell you! He is safe. He has his head squarely on his shoulders. He can take me places, very dark places even, and I will go, unafraid. I trust him. (And to clarify that, just in case you’ve been reading about trust in M/s relationships, I mean that no matter the outcome, I am not running away; Maimed, broken, badly bruised, but not dead, I will not leave.)

Oh, that all of my todays would be like this one.

I think that is possible. I see them occurring more often as time goes by.

I am learning my role well. Master is a good teacher. Anything useful to be gained from this blog comes directly or indirectly from him. He has made me. Remade me, for himself. He doesn’t share, but he exposes me to the world and then takes all the credit. He can do that. He’s the owner. I love that.

I am happy; happier than I’ve been in decades. Yes I still struggle. Anyone who reads me surely knows that. But each struggle bears the fruit of his ownership and gives me pride in being his. So proud. So happy. So fulfilled.

I wish all of you a wonderful today.

Yoke

The night I wrote my previous post, I was feeling reeeaalllly frustrated. I explained my frustrations and difficulties to Master, of course and there was one nugget he had for me: (this is why I love him so…)

“Here is something I want you to cling to: There is nothing you can take away from work, even on charge days, that I cannot take and turn to my advantage… nothing, There is nothing to fear,”

I said I fear getting in trouble. He replied, “Well, that could well happen, but so what?” I said, “I fear fighting you, and I don’t want to!”

M: “I don’t fear that. I’ll win.”

dk: “I know! But I don’t want to go there! Better not to fight.”

M: “I don’t want that either… but ultimately,” *shrugs*

dk: “Being in charge makes me too feisty.”

M: “It may make you feisty, but not too feisty.”

dk: “I don’t like how it makes me feel. I don’t like feeling my slavery as a yoke and my submission as a duty. I don’t like that at all.”

M: “But… sometimes it is; and even though you do, I don’t mind that.”

dk: “It makes you feel more powerful, doesn’t it?”

M: “It affirms my power, yes.”

dk: “It does to me too.”

M: “And that’s a good thing.”

dk: “It’s a weird and scary thing… and a comforting thing all at the same time I suppose.”

M: “Then focus on the comforting. It will give you something to do on the floor tonight”

Master had decided that I would be sleeping on the floor that night. He’d decided this before my little rant evidently, so it wasn’t punishment. It was for “reinforcement” purposes. I told him it came at a very poignant time. He said, “Sleeping on the floor… you won’t feel in charge anymore.”

Isn’t he sweet?

Well. For any of you that sleep on the floor, my congratulations go out to you. I am past my mid-forties here, and even sleeping on carpet is hard on a body! Master graciously allowed me to put a sheet down, so it wouldn’t feel so scratchy. I also begged for, and was granted a pillow, blanket, and my teddy bear. (“Hard to send your slave to the floor without her teddy bear.” *smiles*) I had to sleep as usual, with my ankle and wrist cuffs on, ankles linked together. But that presented problems I would find out.

I was also granted a little loophole, since it was a work night: if I could not fall asleep by midnight, I was allowed to go to my bed.

I wrote Master a couple of emails in the morning.

Dear Master,

So, when I went to “bed” it was nearly 11pm.

I looked at the clock at ten minutes after, then 11:20, then 11:30. I think the next time I looked at the clock it was 12:06, so maybe I dozed off, but I wasn’t sure; it was after midnight and I thought about what you said about going to the bed if I couldn’t sleep and the next thing I know, I must have gone to sleep.

At 1:30 I woke up feeling like I was choking. I had been dreaming this weird dream that I had all kinds of little gauze squares stuck in my throat, and some doctor was removing them one at a time. When I woke, my nose was stuffy and my throat was dry. I’d been sleeping on my stomach, something I never do, but one of the few positions I could actually sleep in on the floor.

Having my ankles linked together means I sleep with my legs together obviously, and usually I sleep on my sides. But on the floor, that’s a no go because of the pressure points on my hips and knees with ankles stuck together like that. The only positions I could fall asleep in were lying on my front or my back, and apparently on my stomach I must’ve fallen asleep with my face in the pillow or something to dream I couldn’t breathe, lol.

However, after waking up like that, I dozed off again. Slept until 3:20. Then, that was it. No more sleep.

I had to pee then so I did. But going back to the floor, I just could not fall back asleep. I tossed and turned until sometime after four. Then, I lost it.

I cried a lot until about 4:30 when I went to the bed. But there, I tossed and turned as well, feeling a failure, feeling upset that I wouldn’t be able to call in for lack of sleep, feeling a bit mad about having to sleep on the floor on a work night, etc, etc. I was just not in a good place. Tears are in my eyes as I type this.

I reset my clock to 6, hoping to catch at least an hour of sleep in the bed. But I never did sleep any more.

Now it’s 6 and I have to shower for work.

I don’t feel like a charge nurse. I feel like a slave. I also feel sort of like a failure.

Your slavepet

I dragged myself into the shower at 6am. I thought hard about why my Master would do this to me, knowing it was a work night. After my shower, I dashed off another quick few emails before I had to leave for work.

And, after showering and putting hemorrhoid cream around my eyes (it takes away the puffiness) I realized something: and this makes me not such a failure… I thought that perhaps since you felt you’d made a mistake by not having me with you yesterday, that you would at least get some satisfaction out of my struggles last night. And that thought actually put a smile of accomplishment and satisfaction to my face this morning.

*kiss*

Love you Master

And…

…do you suppose that makes me a masochist?

Master replied:

This is a very difficult time for me, a lot of stress dealing with the aftermath of the problems at [work]. Plus, as I had said, I felt that I had made a mistake not bringing you here yesterday. When I feel like that, my solution is to draw myself closer to you in thought and in deed.

I know your night was miserable, and I know by the time you read this, you will also have spent a miserable, tired day at work. And there is something comforting to me about that. As I strive to regain the upper hand in [work], it helps me to more vigorously reach out my upper hand to you. I hope that makes sense. I hope you understand the value of your miserable hours to me.

… do you suppose that makes me a sadist?

*kiss*

I do think that a lot of our s&m comes in the mental form. I never fully realized it until this experience.

But hey, if my yoke while difficult, causes an increase his overall control and power, then it is indeed a good yoke; a worthy yoke; a welcome yoke.

At first, this whole episode seemed like two separate things. But now that I think about it, it was really two sides of the same need: His need for control, and my need to be controlled.

I needed to feel those bonds again. I needed reinforcement, as he said, that I have a place; and that place is beneath him. I needed to be reminded that any feelings of power I have are truly illusory. I needed to know that my slavery is not only sure, but it is not going to come easy. I needed to know that my Master truly owns me and anything I enjoy [sleeping in bed] is a gift from him.

Master needed to wield his power enough that I could really feel the weight of it bearing down upon me. Ohhh, and let me tell you, that night and at work the next day, I truly did. Master’s days flow much better when I am feeling the yoke of my slavery.

This is service, and slavery, and control, and s&m all wrapped up in a neat little package.

I will say that my attitude towards such events is changing. I am learning to interpret these trials from my Master’s point of view. I am finding meaning in my suffering. And while all of my slavery is not comprised of suffering, a very important portion of it surely is. To understand it as Master would is another gift he gives me.

Chasing my tail

Warning, rant coming… aimed at myself.

Why be a slave? Either you’re a strong-willed woman who chose it, or a weak woman who couldn’t refuse it. I think in my case, it is a bit of both.

Is both even a sane conclusion? How can I be both??

Sometimes, I am perfectly in tune with my slave status. Other times, internally I fight against it. I despair over my lack of choices. I cannot see that I could really leave if I truly wanted to; because the pain of leaving would be devastating, and so I stay. Is that why I stay? Or do I really love it?

Gosh, on nights like tonight, I wish I had the answer to that. If I could withdraw from the real world, it would be so much easier to be a slave. If I did not have a job that gives me so much autonomy, I wouldn’t have the false impression that I really do possess autonomy. It’s rough bouncing back and forth like this. I hate that about the way my life is sometimes. I suffer under the delusion that I can pick and choose things about my life; about that which I will accept; about that which I would have done to me; about that which I would like to do myself.

I sometimes think I am not a “natural” slave or submissive. I guess because of times like these when I am feeling all in charge of myself. It goes back to my work day today: I was in charge; all day. Then I get home and remember… I’m not in charge for real; that’s just an illusion because Master likes me to be in charge at work… that doesn’t apply outside of work.

After working on a day like this I think I am weak for wanting slavery; since a lot of it doesn’t really turn me on, (though a lot of it does) Some days I just need my submission taken from me; I don’t necessarily want to give it freely. Oh, I will give it if there is the slightest threat of some unsavory consequence headed my way. Then I am the perfectly submissive slavepet. But that sucks too because what sort of slave only submits out of fear? That has got to be the crummiest form of submission. There’s resistance, just masked behind a cloak of pretentious obedience. What Master wants that?

I know my Master is not stupid. On the contrary, he is pretty damn astute. I suppose he knows I am not the willing submissive slave 100% of the time, and he is perfectly okay with that. And you know what? That exasperates me further sometimes! Because I know that my slavery is a given no matter what I feel like. I can submit willingly or I can do it the hard way and find myself doing that which I didn’t want to do (submit) and suffering the pain of “refocusing” on top of it. It’s not fair, I tell you! It’s soooo not fair.

I’m stronger than this, right? Is this being weak? On days like this I feel like I’m running circles chasing my tail only to catch it, bite it, and yelp from the pain. What a dork, lol.

On the Value of my Obedience

The other day, my Owner said,

“I want you to focus on a single thought… that I value your obedience above all; that your obedience is what makes me tick, what drives me. It is what I seek, and what I take. Focus on what your obedience means to me; the key is to me… not to you. I want you to consider why that benefits me… why I value that”.

This was lesson time. I’d asked Master, “Teach me something about my slavery?” This was what I got; something to think about. And think about it I did.

I posted the question as a thread over at FetLife one day. I wanted to see what other people would come up with, because all my thoughts were just too pithy to be worthy of my Master. I wanted help! This was indeed a difficult assignment.

But the replies at FetLife, while some were well thought out, most were not addressing the question, which was, what is the value to your Owner of your obedience? Not just what is the value of obedience. I should have put it in italics or something like I’m doing here, because most subs/slaves answered as to the relative value of obedience, without focusing on the “to your Owner” bit.

A few Owner-types answered the question as well. The answers ranged from, “it makes my cock hard” to, it pleases me, to it is the foundation of the relationship and without it, said relationship would be defunct.

None of these answers really addressed what my Master wanted addressed. Well, that of course being because my Master wanted me to think about what He values about my obedience. So I suppose trying to get input from a group like FetLife is kind of moot and pointless.

I don’t know, for some reason I found this very difficult to puzzle out. And while I did respond in an email detailing what I’d come up with, Master said it was like a high school kid’s dissertation but that it did contain a few nuggets.

So I am left with an unfinished task. And I really hate that, being the perfectionist that I am.

Now, my Master often tells me that he is not complicated and not all that deep, lol. I always think differently. So when I think of what benefits him about my obedience, the one thing that keeps coming to mind is that it changes me. And by changing, I mean it increases my overall value as his slave.

It is all very specific. Whatever is demanded of me is specific to my Owner. The recipe is going to make me more valuable in his eyes; not necessarily someone else’s eyes. That it might make me valuable in someone else’s eyes is not the point. Master has me doing things that will produce the type of slave which is particularly suited, to Him.

Now, that I can see as being extraordinarily valuable to him.

I’m tempted to detail my Master’s various requirements…the things to which I must be obedient. But it really doesn’t matter what they are. All that really matters is that I obey, because in doing so I become the instrument of his hand.

Now, another side of the coin is that my obedience proves the power of his ownership. And that may very well be the nugget my Master was trying to teach me in this lesson.

My obedience is the outward sign that I belong to someone, and that is the One that I follow with every ounce of my being; with every breath that I breathe.

Yes, it proves who owns me; but it also proves wherein my loyalty lies. It shows who is the most important One in my life, and that is the One to whom I yield. It validates the connection. I am with you, Master.

Still, on the whole benefits angle, I think that my obedience is purely Master’s power working itself out in my life. He has the power to make me obey. That I do what he expects evidences this fact. My obedience benefits him by strengthening his hold over me, thus deepening my enslavement.

Obedience is valuable to my Master because it changes me to suit him, and keeps me connected and enslaved to Him. The changes benefit him hundreds of ways. The deepening enslavement promises relational longevity. As I’ve said before, my slavery is like jumping off a cliff; I cannot reverse the trip. I’m in it for the long haul, lol.

I’m baaaaaaack!

And after a much needed remodeling session, I’m back.

No, it doesn’t look much different, but the internal structure needed some work. So now that the I-beams are secure and the foundations bolstered, I can return to the job of purging my mental masturbation out here for all of you who get off on that sort of thing. LOL!

Thanks for patiently waiting. I miss you.

dk