doubleknot’s ruminations

Well, it did not take long.  The proverbial shit has hit the fan here and I’m quite a mess.  It’s nothing whatever to do with Master and me, however.  It’s my dad.  He has to have a triple bypass, and, I love him. 

I’m off to cry now. 

I find myself feeling very safe, loved, and well-grounded today; very well-cared-for.  Master and I had cocktails quite recently and that, I’m certain, has everything to do with my newfound sense of well-being.

I arrived with an overall sense of failure and lack; at everything; at life in general, despite my recent weekly grades.  I was pretty low.  Master said I seemed very tense, and I suppose I was, but I told him I felt defeated.  However, Master seemed to be just the opposite; he was in a very up-beat, happy mood.  He was happy to see me and said he wanted to see me more often.

Conversation turned to some of the issues Master is facing in his personal life, and I spoke very openly and candidly about my feelings surrounding the issues of his wife, kids, and leaving his marriage.  I talked about what it’s like being “the other woman.”  We talked about marriage and relationships in general and how his went south.  We also talked about how mine went south and how hindsight is 20/20.  We both have spouses that do not have a positive influence on our children, but rather just the opposite.  We have much in common regarding our marriages.

I told him I have a huge amount of respect for him.  Huge.  I love his intelligence, wisdom, and humor.  I love so many things about him.  He told me he loves me and realizes he wants and needs to spend more time with me, and everything in his life is focused in that direction.  He does not throw the “L” word around very often and usually reserves it for poignant moments like this, so I took notice.  I began to melt.

My feelings of insufficiency and defeat slipped away, leaving peace, contentment and desirability in their wake.  I began to smile and relax and really enjoy my very happy Master sitting beside me.  I draped my leg over his leg.

It was special because he rarely talks this way.  My feelings and desires for a relationship with him are becoming his as well, and will be beneficial on many levels, positively affecting not just us, but those close to us.  We talked about that too.

Life is funny.  It often takes surprising twists and turns.  Twenty years ago I never would have imagined being in the throes of a 3-year-long affair with a married man.  I was as righteous as they come, committed to my marriage and being a faithful wife.  I never knew what drugs and alcohol could do to those aspirations, and in some ways, I still feel defeated.

Master’s problems, while not entirely identical, are similar.  The changes that happen over time to a partner as a result of emotional dysfunction insidiously wear away at the foundation of that relationship until it is beyond repair, and the best solution for all concerned is just to put it to rest.  Dissolve it, before more damage is done.

We don’t know what the future holds when we, with starry-eyes, begin our journey in marriage.  None of us can predict where we will end up, and we are fools to judge the missteps others’ relationships take.  We, who are not living in their shoes, would do well to bite our tongues and be thankful theirs is not our lot in life.

Master is wise.  He is patient, kind, and compassionate.  He is cautious, judicious, and temperate.  He is intelligent, witty, and grounded.  He is meticulous in shaping me and similarly, my future, to satisfy us both, really.  I know my happiness is not his primary objective but somehow, factors in anyway.  He is smart enough to know a happy slave is better than a miserable one!

It’s early February, and the cold ground is blanketed in pure, white snow.  The trees are bare; only vacant nests occupy their branches.  Three years ago, February 9th, I knelt in the snow to worship Master for the very first time.  Three years ago, he took me as his Own.  He promised me nothing but his help to become his slave; his property.  He assured me I wouldn’t fail.  I was not so sure.

He has kept that promise, for I am indeed a slave; His slave.  I have succeeded, despite tremendous tides of fear, worry, and frustration.  The road was not smooth.  I struggled; He supported me.  I faltered; He held me up.  I tried to run; He stopped me.  I lashed out; He punished me.  I was confused; He enlightened me.  I ached; He loved me.

Now, I am settled.  I know my place.  I know what it means to be His slave.  I know I will never be alone, neither in my struggles nor successes, for he shares them all with me.  As I grow more and more into his perfect slave, our relationship grows ever stronger; our path lies sure before us.

I don’t know what lies ahead, but I know where to go.  I follow the path Master has put me on, following as he leads the way.  I know for sure that no matter what befalls us on that path, I will have Master’s strong hand guiding us both, and on His path, I have found my peace.

Technorati Tags: anniversary, time with Master, slavery, emotions

I’m tired and frustrated, and I don’t quite know what to do with it.

It feels really good to get another paper completed and turned in on time.  Now I have a relatively easy week.  I only work Thursday and Friday.  This is good because the ‘knot’ needs an easy week.  I was so stressed out last week I barely ate and everything I did eat hurt my stomach.  Behind the scenes work stress hopefully will soon be blowing over.

The husband stopped over Saturday night after collecting our daughter from a birthday party.  I mentioned needing time with him to get our divorce paperwork signed and notarized.  He told me he wasn’t ready.  He wants to wait.  He wants to “talk about it.”  I don’t really have anything to talk about.  Waiting isn’t going to change my mind.  He is making this rather excruciating: like taking a band-aid off slowly.  Best to just rip it off 1, 2, 3.

Master came by today and I just realized he never even sat down.  He stood the entire time, mostly leaning back against my kitchen sink with me standing in front of him for awhile, then kneeling in front of him, then sitting back on my heels and sucking his cock.  He was close enough to the coffee pot to periodically refill his own cup.  I shoulda been fillin’ his cup.  But, I was being of service in other ways, lol.

I mentioned that in a little over a week we reach our three year anniversary.

Master is of the opinion that the more time progresses in the relationship, the smaller the door of escape for me becomes.  Today he mentioned that door being locked and me without a key.  I told him I have a key.  He said, no, you are merely under the illusion you have a key.  I thought about that awhile.

External enslavement involves those physical and tangible ways to enslave someone: things like chains and cages with locks and keys, or taking away her credit cards, money, driver’s license, car, etc., and restricting her contacts and whatever else you can think of to physically keep her bound to you.

Internal enslavement is accomplished when she cannot leave you even if she has the car and keys and the door is wide open.  It is trickier to enslave someone mentally this way, but once accomplished, she will remain yours even if many miles separate you.  It takes some skill to internally enslave someone, and no small amount of reprogramming and manipulation.  There’s more to it than simply keeping her in the relationship.  Keeping her obedient and pleasing is also included in the mental restructuring that goes on.

In the end, I told Master I am addicted to him and like an addict, I cannot easily shake free of my addiction.  I am not likely to ever want to even try to leave him.  But, he did that to me.  Somehow, he did.

Master told me while looking down at my kneeling form as I gazed back up at him that I am much like a pet on a leash.  He likes that.  I agree.  At times I do feel like a pet.   I am as loyal as they come and eager to please, and well-behaved when on my leash.  Like a pet, too, I can get naughty when off my leash.  I don’t mean to, it’s just the wildness in my nature.  But kept well-contained, then I am at my very best.

And so today I sat, chained to my desk, working on my paper.  Well, not literally chained.  But Master told me as he was leaving, “You have fifteen minutes to get something to eat and drink, but then I want you at your desk doing your homework.  When I get back to the office I’ll come online and check on you.”  It’s just like being chained to my desk.  Online, he watches me on camera.  I like to watch him work.  I like to periodically complain about my current homework assignment too.  And he warns me when it’s time to stop complaining.  I like that.

Master also said that we’ll never, ever be equals.  He said it’s best for me this way.  I don’t know how he knows that, but he has seen to it over the course of the past three years that it is so.  We are not equals by any stretch of the imagination; and I do do well this way.  I have no other choice:  I will never be his equal; and I will do well.  He says so.

Master bit me by my collar-bone and left two little sets of teeth impressions lying side by side in a row.  They’re fading now, which is good because my color is so fair that cover-up would only bring attention to them.  But I like them.  I don’t want them to be fading.

Contained is a good way to be.  For me.  In fact, when the leash is too long, I become agitated, like some nervous little yappy dog.  I’m so glad Master realizes this and does not often let the leash out.  I much prefer when he pulls me in close.

That imaginary key?  I don’t think about it much anymore.  I think he was right.  I think as time goes on, the door with its imaginary key just moves further and further away, out of my reach; out of my thoughts even.  There is this circle of anxiety that accompanies any thought of breaking away or separation from Master; a net of anxiety about not being his that is unbearable to dwell within; and so these days, I stay firmly away from those thoughts.

My enslavement wraps me up like a big, fuzzy, warm blanket, swaddling me close, bringing me feelings of safety and security.  There’s no alternative for me but to be owned; and owned by my Master.  When he says, “Mine,” I melt.  Inwardly, I am conquered.  For truly, I am His.

Technorati Tags: enslavement, ownership

I wanted to address something Rhonda said re my last post:“

“My issue is with your Master, who (in my limited view, from the outside) is living a double life at your expense, even though he has been instrumental in helping you overcome obstacles that you wouldn’t have attempted without his guidance. If you are willing to give him the next three, or five, or even more years of your life…waiting…I humbly submit that you are a stronger woman than I could ever hope to be. I hope for nothing short of happiness for you…today, tomorrow…into the next millennium…however long you exist in this world. I do question his motives, but that’s really none of my business…it’s only yours.“

I think, no, I know Rhonda touches on a view that is probably pretty common among my readers, namely the lurkers: the ones sitting back reading and waiting to see what happens to Doubleknot.  “Will she ever truly find happiness?  Will she give up the rest of her life waiting for a man who is unscrupulous with questionable motives?  She clearly seems stable, but soon, she has to crack.  She is not made of steel.  Surely no one can wait forever…“

At first, I questioned his motives too; but, and this is the part that garners me no sanity points here, I am a slave. This is not your normal relationship.  It is slanted in favor of my Owner.  And heaven knows he is not out to win a popularity contest among my readers.

One thing these past couple of posts and comments has made me realize is how similar my monologue here is to the dialog between Master and me when it is just us.  I vent my feelings and struggles here, but also, I describe things mainly from my Master’s point of view; because imbued in me is everything he thinks, believes, and feels.  Such is life as my Master’s precious one.  I am learning to rethink things in the way he would have me think.  Feeling things the way he would have me feel.  Believing things he would have me believe.

And so if I step away from his side for just a moment and try to access my own thoughts, here is what I find…

1. Master loves me in an uncompromising way.  I am good for him, just as he is good for me.  He is taking steps, little by little, to move toward a life with me.  His family is very important to him, namely his children.  They are precious to him, and they come before all else, including his own wants and needs.  They are the weak and innocent who need his protection.  He is an awesome dad.

2. Master has never known anyone in his life he ever felt as close to as me.  He shares things with me he’s never shared with anyone.  He feels safe with me.  He allows himself to show vulnerability with me.  Tenderness.  Compassion.  Love.  Warmth.

3. Master has fun with me, and I have fun with him.  We laugh a lot!  I love to make him smile or laugh and he loves my witticism.  We are compatible.

4. I think Master hesitates speaking aloud his desires for a future with me for the simple fact that it is a long ways away.  It’s a bit like looking at something you hope for in the far-off distance; something you can’t quite make out yet, but it’s something you really, really want.  You know it’s out there, reachable, but still a long ways off and it’s no use getting too jazzed up about it yet because you still have so far to go.  Dwelling on how far off it is only makes you weary on the way there and really, isn’t life all about the journey?

5. I hesitate writing what Master thinks or what his motives are because really, I am not certain I would get it all exactly right, and so I don’t often do it.  But over time, he has made little comments to me here and there sharing his feelings on these weighty matters, and basically, he feels like me: he wants to be with me one day.  He dreams about it.  He would be most content living with me as his slave and so one day, it will happen.

But life being what it is, these things do take time.  And really, I’ve got time.  It’s not the greatest thing to be a lady in waiting but for Master, I can wait.  It certainly is building my slave muscle in the meantime, and couldn’t we all use a little more muscle?

I like the journey.  While it isn’t always easy, neither is a 24/7 live-in relationship.  That’s got to be about the hardest M/s or O/p type of relationship there is.  And that can be chapter 2.  I hope you’ll all stick around for it.

Technorati Tags: waiting for Master, M/s, slavery, ownership, Master

It has been brought to my attention via comments from my previous post as well as email that there are some concerns on the part of my readers about my happiness, well-being, and indirectly, my sanity (she said, tongue-in-cheek).  I assure you I am well aware of what is said about “the other woman”.  I am well aware because it is no secret at work that I am seeing a married man and my friends and co-workers are not shy about bringing up the obvious objections and concerns.  I am in this thing, eyes wide open.

I know this relationship looks very one-sided.  I know it does.  But that’s because I am rather limited in how much I can divulge regarding certain aspects, namely, protecting Master’s privacy.  He is almost anal about keeping certain details of his side of the equation secret and hidden because he has a lot at stake.  A lot. And so what you will read here, ultimately, is and has been very one-sided; but necessarily so.  I asked Master to consider presenting a post of his own here, but he suggested I write one and he’ll edit it as needed.  So, here goes:

A helpful reader pointed out that my choice of factual material here may largely paint Master in a bad light.  Not much is mentioned of steps he might be taking regarding a future together, although I often state that this is my hope and dream.  This isn’t done intentionally to garner sympathy.  This is done mainly because he does not make promises.

Why does he do this?  Why won’t he profess his intention and plan for my future as his one and only?  His answer is simply that he will not accept my obedience with strings attached, ie, for the sake of a future reward.  He wants, no, he demands my unconditional obedience.  And guess what?  He gets it.

While this was a hard lesson for me early on, now I have mostly come to accept it.  And I don’t often press him for details of his plans for us anymore.  I am not saying I never press him; I am only human after all, so I do.  I do occasionally want to talk about, oh, say, a time line of events for instance.  I do want to know that I am not investing this much into a man without some sort of pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

In fact, this all has become a recurring theme in this relationship, the notion that we are working toward something.  I believe that we are.  My separation is one step.  My divorce is a step.  Getting my kids situated and on their own is a step.  And Master has been right by my side helping me with each of these steps too.  I did not separate without his guidance and support.  In fact, if not for him I would most likely still be with my husband.  I did not have the strength nor the courage to take such a huge step on my own, or I would have done so years ago.  I was flat-out afraid to do it before I had Master.  I thought for sure it would be impossible to live on my own; impossible to achieve separation; impossible for my kids to survive and unthinkable that they would thrive as they do now.

When we were still in the fledgling weeks of the relationship I remember Master telling me “It takes a lot to overcome the inertia of a marriage; especially a long-term marriage”, and he was right.  Especially too, when precious children are involved.  There is a lot to consider.  There is great responsibility.

I respect a man who has his priorities in order.  I respect a man who is not impulsive.  I respect a man who places a high priority on his children’s well-being.  I respect a man who takes his commitments seriously.  I respect a man who can make me wait for important things to come to fruition.  I respect that man and I want to be that man’s one and only, and guess what?  He promised that one day, I will be.

Doing what feels good is great as long as we don’t hurt others in the process.  Living in the moment is very freeing, but does not come without a cost.

Master is making plans to own me completely one day, but it won’t happen overnight; or in three years; or even five.

But one day, he will own all of me.    I can assure you.

Technorati Tags: ownership, obedience

I spent a very sleepless night last night wearing my leather collar instead of my silver chain.  Master wanted me to “feel like a slave” as I slept, he said.  But I didn’t sleep well.  Which stands to reason, because he wanted me to feel like a slave and I wasn’t.  I was feeling all entitled and that never jives well with being a slave.  I struggled with myself most of the night.  (At least my ankles weren’t chained to the wrought iron of my headboard.)

Technorati Tags: ownership, slavery, refocusing

I haz one.

Master is awesome.  I love him to pieces.  Oodles upon oodles.  But let’s face it; I lead a double life.

I met work friends at this place tonight;  They had a band and it was a lakeside bar.  Kind of big bar, with an upstairs and downstairs.  I wore my new skinny jeans and stuff. I was lookin’ good.

But Master was not there.  I missed him!  Some brought dates:  husbands or boyfriends.  I wanted Master there.  But he couldn’t come.

Some day, he will be able to come.

I can’t wait for that day.

It’s been almost a week since I’ve posted anything here.  I worked three 12’s over the weekend and started a new class yesterday.  I’ve been running my dad around and cooking for him since he was basically grounded by his doctor (from driving) for awhile.  I’ve been working on the paperwork for my divorce and Master says I am to file it with the court on Monday.  I have a persuasive paper to write also for Monday.

Master is gone this week traveling without me.  I was sad about it at first, but being home and off work for three days has actually been a good thing.  I got a lot done that needed doing.  Shopping, the dad stuff, the divorce stuff, cleaning, laundry, a school thing for my daughter, etc, etc.  Master and I have kept in touch via phone, text, and chat.

I lost a little over a pound again this week, but have been so hungry the past couple of days, I hope I don’t gain next week.  I don’t know what it is, but I am ravenous.  Still, with all my eating I have been trying to eat things that won’t hurt the low-carb part of the diet so much.  We’ll see what happens.  I ordered more jeans one size smaller, though I don’t know if I will quite fit into them yet. The 10’s are gappy at the waist though.

On another, more ‘on topic’ note, I notice the fantasies that turn me on the most always involve a huge amount of pain inflicted on some poor subject.  She may be willing, or unwilling (unwilling is ultimately hotter).  She always gets way more pain than she can bear.  She screams and maybe passes out.  She gets untold numbers of welts and bruises, and in the end, she is broken.  She is usually orgasming too, in there somewhere.

Nice fantasy.

In reality, I am the biggest pussy.  I cannot handle even moderate amounts of bondage and pain without freaking out.  Fear kicks in and magnifies any pain a hundredfold.  Reality is sadly behind the fantasy.  But… deep down,  maaaaybe I still wish for the fantasy to become reality.  I would be the unwilling victim, mind you.  I am not a huge lover of pain at the time, and would need massive restraints to keep me from bolting in my fantasy scenarios.  I have never orgasmed from pain and seriously doubt it’s even possible (for me).

FetLife had a thread asking you to rate your S or M tendencies with 1 being the lowest end of the scale and 10 being highest.  There were interesting responses.  I definitely rank myself 10 as a fantasy masochist.  In reality, maybe a 6-8, depending on the day.  I know that I almost always wish Master would take me further than he usually does, mainly out of curiosity as to just how much I can take.

Now, mind you, I have been in situations where Master was doing more than I thought I could take; situations where I thought surely some major damage was happening or would happen if he continued.  But looking back (and hindsight IS always 20/20), I realize that very possibly he was just getting started.

I think sometimes that Master is a bit limited in how far he can go with me due to lack of privacy.  We often are in hotels with thin walls.  I scream bloody murder if I have to.  It makes me feel better.  The only gag we have has holes, so the screams are in no way muffled.  At least, that’s what my mind wants to think…

I asked Master to rate his sadistic tendencies and he only gave himself a 6.  A 6?!??  I was disappointed!  I need to be with a guy who is at least a 9 or 10 sadist, as per my fantasies!  Who will make them come true for me now???  I am enslaved to a 6???  Damn!!

Well…

Perhaps I was wrong?  Perhaps Master indeed did take me as far as he wanted or cared to.  Perhaps we hit his #6 ceiling and that was it; it had nothing whatsoever to do with who could hear my screams.  Perhaps I’ll have to settle for a 6.  Do I really have any other choice??

Know what else?  *whispers*  I like bruises. And welts.  And sore bits that stay sore a looong time.  Bits I can look at in the mirror for a week or more.  Aches and pains that bring a smile to my face when I sit a certain way or the fabric brushes against them.  I love all of that stuff.  Hell, I used to self-inflict it.

But sadly, it has been a long time since I’ve had any real lasting marks to speak of.  Master just is not that into marking me.  He hits the satisfied line on his sadistic register way before I get anything like that.  Mostly, our pain sessions are short, just enough to arouse him and then off we go to the races.  Maybe that’s because he has precious little time to waste and wants to leave enough time for my aftercare. (…listens for the choking, laughing sounds from Master)

Yeah, that’s it; aftercare.  He wants to allow enough snuggle time afterwards.  I knew that’s why you restricted your beating of me to thirty minutes or less!

I don’t know if any of what I’ve surmised here about Master is true, save for his number 6 rating.  I always assumed there was a well of darkness hiding deep within his soul that he was reserving for just the right time and place, but yanno what?  After nearly three years, you’d think by now I would have seen it.  And I suppose I have seen glimpses.  I still believe it’s down there.  Hiding.  Deep.  Waiting for when I least expect it…

Technorati Tags: fantasy, enslavement, masochism, sadism

The bartender inadvertently called Master a gentleman… Master replied, “I’m no gentleman.”  The bartender looked at me questioningly.  “No, he’s noooo gentleman,” I replied, shaking my head.

Master is a lot of things, but gentlemanly is not one of them.  He walks his own pace, and I had better keep up.  He enters buildings and lets the door slam in my face, even when I am dragging all of our luggage.  He keeps the temperature of a room or the car suited to his needs.

On trips, we take bathroom breaks at his bladder’s calling, not mine.  He reminded me of this recently on a trip.  I had to go so bad, my eyes were turning yellow.  I was in serious pain.  When we finally took an exit, with relief I said, “This stop came none too soon.  I’m about to burst!”  Master informed me we weren’t stopping at any bathroom.  He wanted to change drivers.  He was making me drive.  I could have killed him.  I told him he was mean and that I would likely die.  He scoffed.  We traveled on.

I reminded him how unhealthy it is not to pee when your bladder’s full.  It can back up into your kidneys and cause a serious infection!  (Don’t these M-types know anything???)  Well.  Well, well, well.  This is so not the way to get your Master to stop at a rest stop.  A gentleman would have stopped as soon as he heard the word “pee”.  (giggles to self)  So, anyway, after driving another HOUR, Master FINALLY stopped and let me pee at some rest area.  I must’ve peed like a gallon or something.

And I was to show my gratitude for making an unscheduled stop.  Nevermind that my bladder was stretched beyond its normally full capacity and that it may have been thusly rendered utterly useless.  Noooo.  My ungentlemanly Master wanted to prove a point.  That HE is in control of everything, including my sorry-ass bladder, and bathroom breaks are entirely at HIS discretion.

When we arrived at our hotel and once inside our room, Master pushed me to my knees and dragged me crawling, by my hair into the bathroom.  He took out his cock, put it in my mouth, and proceeded to empty HIS bladder into my waiting slave mouth.  I drank so much piss I thought I would turn yellow all over again.  I almost choked on it, it was coming so fast.  I grabbed a towel one moment in case of accidental spillage.  Fortunately for me, I did not spill even a drop.  When he was through, he told me that was my penance for his having to make an unscheduled bathroom stop for me.

The next trip, I deliberately stayed dehydrated so I would not have to pee.  Not so sure how good THAT is for the kidneys either, but, that’s slave strategy.  Live and learn.  I’m never asking to use the bathroom during a trip again.

Technorati Tags: watersports, control, slavery