Blah!

I feel like this blog is turning into a place to whine and I don't want to do that. I just don't know what do do with all this frustration. Pain is taking over my life, it has infiltrated every part of my life, every waking moment.

I finally bit the bullet and did what the Boss suggested I should do, I called my pain doc to request some sort of change in my pain meds because I'm not getting adequate relief. Just as I'd feared, the doc is refusing to make any changes to my meds and is insisting that I make an appointment to discuss a discogram so I can be evaluated for a fusion. I don't even know when I can get time off to make an appointment much less the time for a discogram. The earliest I could even consider surgery would be December because of my job. I have to work here a year before I'm eligible for any sort of disability payments.

I'm starting to feel disabled. I have to plan every little bit of my life to be sure I've got enough energy to do any activity and I have to be sure the activity won't leave me hurting the next day too. It's frustrating as all get out. This story is the one I mentioned a while back and it really does describe pretty accurately what it's like to live with a chronic condition, only I very rarely have a spoon in reserve.

Maybe my out of control anger is linked to all of this. I can't rage about my losses and I'm helpless to do anything to fix the situation at this point. I'm so stuck on everything I can't do that I'm having trouble being thankful for the things I still can do. I want to be able to serve my owner the way I did before the end of last August. I want to be able to have sex as enthusiastically and in whichever position we choose without having to worry about how it's going to affect my pain levels the next day. I want to be able to engage in heavy SM again, complete with take down/resistance play. I'm really angry and upset about the loss of that. I HATE being disabled and I'm SCARED that it will only get worse and eventually I'll be crippled by it.

I had someone suggest today that I need to mourn what I'm losing/have lost but I don't know how to do that because I'm still looking for loopholes and I still have a tiny bit of hope that I can be "fixed".

Still, I've been flirting with the idea of using a cane for the bad days and trying to get used to the idea that I may need to get one. I've been considering talking to my doctor about putting "permanent" in my file so I can get a handicap parking sign for my car too but I'm afraid he'll refuse that too. He has always seemed so certain that either this would heal or it could be fixed somehow so I bought into that idea too. When do you finally give up and say "This is the best it's ever going to be, it's time to deal with it."?

The Boss is encouraging and supportive and I appreciate that. I'm thankful that he doesn't treat me with kid gloves and lets me serve unless I'm in obvious distress. He's trying to trust that I'll let him know when I'm at my limit. I'm still pushing myself until I've gone just a hair beyond my limit, I can't help doing it I'm kind of stubborn that way. I've had a pretty bad example of someone giving up in a similar situation. My mother has pretty much made herself bedridden because of chronic pain and depression. There is so much she could still do but doesn't, instead she sleeps her life away. I don't want to do that, I want to live my life to the fullest, not waste it like she's done. Maybe the thing that scares me the most isn't being crippled by my condition but instead it's the thought of becoming her that does it.

Bad Dog No Biscuit

I've been behaving badly and I feel like I deserve to be punished. I need to be held accountable for my behavior.

The Boss teases me about it but I do have a bit of road rage, he's listened to me rant about other drivers over the phone on my drive home. I'd never really given it any thought until today but jeez, I'm ashamed of myself. Why would anyone want to listen to me rant about other drivers? The answer is simple, they wouldn't. I need to settle down and just let it go, I can't control other drivers and ranting about them just makes me look and sound like trash. The Boss doesn't own trash and I'm insulting him by acting that way.

I overreacted yesterday on the phone with the Boss. His employer mistreats him and it upsets me to see him mistreated, I want so badly to fix it for him. I get frustrated and I end up venting at him instead of to him. The same thing happens when I get frustrated about having to wait to get any sort of relief for my back. I vent at him over things he has no control over himself. It's as if I expect him to be able to fix it and I get upset when he can't.

I don't think my feelings are necessarily wrong it's just that the way I express them is in appropriate. Venting, or yelling, at one's owner is childish and very unbecoming.

I've written him an apology for my behavior and I hope we'll have a chance to talk about it this evening. I just wish there was some tangible way I could make amends to him. He deserves a lot better from me than what I've given lately.

Memory Lane

On one of the e-mail lists I'm a member of there was a discussion about what brought one to the leather lifestyle. My first answer was short and to the point "The Boss, Easyrider, and the computer. In that order." That's the short answer. The long answer is a lot more involved and giving the short answer got me to thinking about how I got to where I am today.

Before I met the Boss at the tender age of 15 (going on 30) I believed my mother's line that women ought to be strong and women don't need men for anything but sex once in a while. Her definition of strong translates to domineering and dominant.

I tried very hard for many years to be just that, strong, dominating, and domineering. I kept all males at arm's length, they were only allowed to know just so much of the real me. It didn't help that my early introduction to sex with males left me with a huge distrust of all males. When you're young it's easier to paint everyone with the same brush rather than make exceptions and risk being hurt again and again. At least, that was my reasoning and I thought it served me well for several years. I believed I was protecting myself from hurt but it was a lie I told myself. I still got hurt, I just buried it deeply and refused to acknowledge it.

When I met the Boss I tried keeping him at arm's length, I was mean to him and tried to deliberately hurt him when I realized he cared about me and, that I cared about him. He wouldn't be deterred. He wrote me letters constantly, imploring me to give him a chance, telling me how much he cared for me, and wanted me. He likes to say he wore me down and I let him go with that story. The truth is, I couldn't deny how I felt about him any longer. There's the backstory, now on with how the Boss helped bring me to where I am now...

The Boss, for all his practical inexperience, was extremely well-educated about sex and a woman's body. He was sexually adventurous and open-minded, giving me courage to try new things with him. He introduced me to my body, to the pleasures I could experience with it, and he gave me my first ever orgasm. He introduced me to pornography too, which was an educational experience all on its own. That's when I developed the misconception that men's orgasms were painful. Have you ever seen the O-faces they make in older porn movies? They look as if they're experiencing excruciating pain.

Anyway... The Boss had a large collection of porn magazines and Easyrider magazine. I am a voracious reader, always have been, as well as just curious enough to get myself into trouble. It was the stories in Easyrider that opened up another world of possibilities to me, women submissive to men, treated like property, traded among a group of men, and happy to live that way. I got incredibly turned-on reading these stories, they fueled many a late night fantasy, and served in a way as foreplay. Sometimes I'd lie naked, on my belly, on the Boss's bed reading stories while he explored my body and did deliciously naughty things to me.

I had my first bondage and role playing experiences with the Boss, I told you he was open-minded. I didn't trust anyone enough to be tied up myself but was curious about tying someone up and he was a willing partner.

The Boss introduced me to threesomes and moresomes, he found that he loved watching me have sex with others and I found myself obliging him even if I wasn't exactly interested in the person he wanted me to have sex with. I did it because I wanted to make him happy because it made me happy to see him happy. During our first 10 or so years together we fought a lot, we had growing pains (we were still kids for all intents and purposes), and we had huge power struggles. Both of us were trying to be in charge, him because it's just natural to him and me because that's what I was taught to be.

During those years we didn't know about the terms BDSM, D/s, or M/s. We didn't have the language to label ourselves with. Now I'd label what we were as vanilla with sprinkles. We had kinky sex, we had threesomes and moresomes, and he let me have sex with other people without him.

When I was about 26 we saw an episode of HBO's Real Sex that showcased BDSM and I was off to the races. Immediately I got online and started searching for any and all information I could find on the subject. I found newsgroups, web sites, and e-mail lists. I asked the Boss to explore with me, I wrote fantasy stories for him to pique his interest and to show him what I was interested in. He read the stories and he did try but he just wasn't ready yet. Being the man he is, he gave me permission to seek out a partner who would explore with me and give me what I needed.

I put an ad out on an adult ad site and came across someone who sounded promising. I contacted him and he responded. We chatted a lot through e-mail and instant messenger, I put off meeting him for three to four months because I was nervous and insecure. I finally met him and we hit it off. He became my dominant and gave me a safe space within which to explore my submission. During this time I continued to read everything I could find and shared what I read with my Sir. I continued to make occasional overtures to the Boss and shared with him what my Sir and I did.

When I finally screwed up the courage to participate in real time with the local BDSM group I shared everything I learned at the demos I attended with both the Boss and my Sir. I was in a frenzy and having the time of my life, I was finding my genuine self. My Sir taught me a lot and helped me on the road to being a woman and a submissive in addition to being a wife and mother.

I met m'Lady at a group function, she decided she wasn't going to allow me to hide in the corner and dragged me out of it. We bonded quickly and she took a serious interest in helping to bring the genuine 'me' out. She gave me the opportunity to serve as a sort of social secretary, keeping her notified of upcoming events, etc. I loved being able to serve her in that manner. By the time I met m'Lady I'd become discontent with the level of D/s I had with my Sir. I didn't have many opportunities to serve him and I was craving a deeper level of dominance. I wanted to be owned; property. I needed that.

Not long after I met my Sir, perhaps a year and a half to two years, the Boss decided he was ready. He took over as my primary partner and started attending the local group's functions with me. It seems like things between us quickly progressed from D/s to M/s but it took about a year and a half before the Boss collared me as his slave. I've been his slave now for about three-going on four-years and we're still learning together. Sometimes daily life gets in the way and the M/s becomes more of an undercurrent and we then have to work our way back to active M/s.

Content

Saturday was a good day. We spent most of it with the Tribe, sharing good conversation and good food, playing games (next time I'm coming prepared!), and watching movies. The Boss and I headed home around 11 pm I think, and when we got home, we proceeded upstairs to play.

I'd been having too much of the daily pain to tolerate impact play but I had suggested earlier in the day that cupping and knives might be okay. He started by stripping me, he sat on the edge of the bed while I stood in front of him. He suckled my breasts for a long time, getting me, and himself, quite worked up. I was dripping wet by the time he decided to have me lay face-down on the bed. I wanted more suckling and some f*cking but...apparently I was in for some play.

He took me at my word about cupping and knives being okay and set to placing cups all over my back down to the backs of my thighs. Once the cups were in place and I was fairly purring from the sensation he turned wicked. My movements were hampered by the cups so I couldn't thrash or roll away without fear of dislodging or breaking cups. I was, in effect, bound in place. He took full advantage of the situation and, using our favorite knife, started poking me in the most sensitive spots with it. Under my arms, my sides, my butt, the backs of my knees, and the bottoms of my feet. He even spread my legs and poked my labia and clit. I held my breath, fearful that he'd leave a little cut that would hurt for days. That's just not the place a cut would feel good.

It felt like he worked me over for hours, poking all my most sensitive spots while I exerted all the energy I had in trying to hold still. I ended up apologizing over and over again when he grabbed my right foot and started poking it. I couldn't hold it still, each time he poked or touched it it would twitch, all on its own without my say so. He enjoyed my predicament quite a bit. By the time he was finished and started removing the cups I was limp with exhaustion. I felt like I'd just run a marathon and won. It felt good to just lie there while he removed the cups. It was heavenly when he used a warm washcloth to clean the lube from my back. It felt like a light massage and I reveled in it.

After he'd cleaned me up he proceeded to take steps to dirty me all over again, but that's a tale for another day.

I feel content today, my Master is making his way back to himself, and he's taking control of my body, using it as he chooses. Sunday night he felt like suckling so he did, he proceeded to lift my top and suckled my nipples for a while before suggesting we take it upstairs. We browsed breast pumps at the store yesterday and I think we've settled on the model we're going to buy. In the meantime he's suckling almost daily in an effort to increase the milk production. I think what thrills me the most about the induced lactation is just the fact that he's doing what he wants with my body, it's not about the milk at all. It's about his control over my body and his love of suckling my nipples. And maybe a little bit about how turned-on I get while he's suckling.

It's a very intimate thing; bonding. I love sitting there with his head cradled in my arms while he suckles; gazing down at him, watching his jaw work as I feel his tongue lave across my nipple. His brown-eyed gaze watching me watch him for a moment before he closes his eyes and gives himself over to his own pleasure.

Feeling Owned

Induced Lactation.... that's the technical term for causing a woman who hasn't just had a baby to lactate. The Boss has done this with me to a small degree and we're in talks about increasing my milk production to a greater degree. As of right now I produce about a quarter of a teaspoon or so from both breasts when I'm aroused or the Boss has just given them his attentions.

This all started several years ago, I noticed that when squeezed, my right nipple would express a small amount of fluid. I had it checked and my gyn said it was nothing to worry about, it's "normal". Then my left breast got in on the act. It became a novelty. I'm not a squirter when I orgasm so it was kind of neat to be able to express some sort of fluid from my body, don't ask why, I'm weird I guess. The Boss didn't seem to mind the fluid so that helped me to become more comfortable with it.

Over the past year or so I've gotten a lot more comfortable with life in general and I've relaxed a lot of my personal boundaries. I've always had issues with touching and being touched by others, especially in a sexual context. Kissing, especially, was hard for me to accept. I'd allow a few kisses and then break it off, deep mouth kissing was SO hard to cope with, I'd get uncomfortable and start feeling almost squicked by it. This was closely followed by having my breasts sucked on. I'd let the Boss do it occasionally but most of the time I'd sort of shy away from it. Bad slave, I know.

I've gotten over a lot of that, it seems like I've had an almost complete reversal. I love having the Boss suck on my nipples, they're like a direct line to my clit and having them sucked is a major turn-on, moreso than any other act. Through his regular sucking on my nipples, I've begun to produce actual milk in very small quantities. I love the fact that he has been able to create this change in my body. Going by his reaction to suckling and the resulting milk production, I'd say that he is extremely happy about this too.

His plan, to increase my milk production, includes buying an electrical breast pump that I'd have to use every day. It will be some time before we can buy a pump but just knowing that he really plans to do it is enough to sustain me. It seems that the M/s drought is lifting and the Boss is taking the reins again.

I can't really put into words how content I feel at having him exercise his control over me in this way. I guess one could say I'm kinked to think of body modification as a form of ownership. In other words, I feel most owned when the Boss chooses to mark me physically in some way. Inducing lactation and increasing my milk production is a major body modification in my eyes. It is something tangible that I can touch, or feel, and be reminded of my status as property that can be altered at Master's will.