Being the girly girl I am, there are certain things that I think are just gross and I'd really prefer to not have to do, or be exposed to, them. One of them is touching another person's feet. I'm getting better about touching Master's feet at least. I don't mind massaging lotion into them.
I was doing just that when I mentioned to him that he needed to clip his toenails. He got a wild hair and decided to have me do it. I had a few minutes of thinking that he had to be kidding or just yanking my chain but he was utterly serious. So, with a little bit of grousing about how gross it was, I proceeded to get the clippers and set to my task.
It doesn't seem like it was that long ago when I would have balked until he decided it was too much trouble to "dom" me into doing it. Once I realized he wasn't joking, I didn't question that I was going to do it. I took my time and made sure I didn't leave any jagged edges or pointy spots. By the time I'd finished I found myself feeling pleased that I'd done a good job and taken care of my Master.
He told me afterwards that if I hadn't let on how much it bothered me to do it, he wouldn't have pursued the subject. Basically the only reason he had me do it is because I objected, he enjoyed my struggle between revulsion and obedience. But, now what? In my mind it is now on the list of services I perform for him. He seemed to enjoy being cared for in that way. Maybe I misread him and what he was really enjoying was my discomfort. We really haven't talked about it since Friday night.
Nine years ago I would never have dreamed that clipping his toenails would make me feel so good about myself. I remember reading others' retellings of doing this sort of service and saying "No way am I doing that." You know what they say about never saying never right? *wry grins*
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
It's Time
"This is my brother J. He was taken from us.." Those were Master's words in the first TV interview he gave. He had a picture of his brother on the coffee table in front of him that he gestured to as he spoke.
Pictures and memories are all we have left of him now thanks to the selfish actions of one person. This person felt that his need to remove J from this existence was more important than our need to have him in our lives. I realize he wasn't thinking of the bigger picture or of the pain he'd cause, but it doesn't change the reality of what he's done. That's his bad for not thinking beyond himself, not ours.
And that's as far as my anger is able to reach. I don't want vengeance, an eye for an eye just leaves everyone blind. I guess, if I had to point to what I really do want, to what is realistic to request, it would be answers. We want to know why. Why did he do it? It won't bring Jamey back, it won't comfort us, but it will help ease the confusion. We're all so very, very confused about it.
4/26/07
We all seem to be settling into daily life, trying to pick up the pieces and move on with our lives. I think all of us are tired of living in a holding pattern. We all want to get the trial done and over with. His lawyer has had the trial delayed, it sounds as if he's going to try for an insanity plea.
On a side note, J still doesn't have a headstone. It's become a freaking soap opera with temper tantrums being thrown over donations and how they were spent and an outsider trying to create more drama to make it all about her. I'm ready to cut ties with these people, I'm so fed up with their infantile and manipulative behavior. What happened to the caring people they were when our grief was still fresh? What happened to remembering that it's about J, not about any of us? Selfishness reigns supreme.
The Boss's mother is trying to work through her grief but it's slow going. I don't even want to try to imagine how hard that is for her. I don't know how she's maintained her grip on reality, I don't think I would be able to.
We're planning on attending the Pride parade and events this year, if the Boss has to work I'm still going. I'd like to have buttons made up for us with J's picture on them as a way of keeping him with us, and celebrating his life. J loved to party and Pride is one big party that I'm sure he would have loved.
J had an artistic soul with a purely unique outlook. All one has to do is look through the pictures of how he decorated his apartment to know. His living space was as colorful and vibrant as he was. He is deeply missed.
Pictures and memories are all we have left of him now thanks to the selfish actions of one person. This person felt that his need to remove J from this existence was more important than our need to have him in our lives. I realize he wasn't thinking of the bigger picture or of the pain he'd cause, but it doesn't change the reality of what he's done. That's his bad for not thinking beyond himself, not ours.
And that's as far as my anger is able to reach. I don't want vengeance, an eye for an eye just leaves everyone blind. I guess, if I had to point to what I really do want, to what is realistic to request, it would be answers. We want to know why. Why did he do it? It won't bring Jamey back, it won't comfort us, but it will help ease the confusion. We're all so very, very confused about it.
4/26/07
We all seem to be settling into daily life, trying to pick up the pieces and move on with our lives. I think all of us are tired of living in a holding pattern. We all want to get the trial done and over with. His lawyer has had the trial delayed, it sounds as if he's going to try for an insanity plea.
On a side note, J still doesn't have a headstone. It's become a freaking soap opera with temper tantrums being thrown over donations and how they were spent and an outsider trying to create more drama to make it all about her. I'm ready to cut ties with these people, I'm so fed up with their infantile and manipulative behavior. What happened to the caring people they were when our grief was still fresh? What happened to remembering that it's about J, not about any of us? Selfishness reigns supreme.
The Boss's mother is trying to work through her grief but it's slow going. I don't even want to try to imagine how hard that is for her. I don't know how she's maintained her grip on reality, I don't think I would be able to.
We're planning on attending the Pride parade and events this year, if the Boss has to work I'm still going. I'd like to have buttons made up for us with J's picture on them as a way of keeping him with us, and celebrating his life. J loved to party and Pride is one big party that I'm sure he would have loved.
J had an artistic soul with a purely unique outlook. All one has to do is look through the pictures of how he decorated his apartment to know. His living space was as colorful and vibrant as he was. He is deeply missed.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Angst-y
I'm feeling kind of angsty today about my relationship with my Sir. I don't write much about him here, our situation is complicated. He has some major life changing stuff happening within the next year and it has me wondering where that leaves us? Where will I stand with him afterwards?
Sometimes I don't know where I stand with him now. After having my trust dented by some decisions he made I pulled way back from him, including my submission. I didn't feel like I could trust him and if I can't trust a person I can't submit to that person. That was a couple of years ago, it took me a long time to trust him enough to want to submit to him again. It was a little while longer before I actually did. Since then our relationship has been very different.
I don't think I came back to him fully as a submissive. I've kept part of myself in reserve, afraid to trust him as completely as I did, not wanting to be hurt like that again. This makes it hard to be the s in a D/s relationship. Yet, part of me still wants to submit to him and doesn't want to lose the relationship entirely. I care a great deal for him and I genuinely like him.
I'm wanting to try to find my way back to him as a submissive, I just don't know how to do it. If I do end up losing the relationship with him I at least want to have spent the last bit of it as it started, submissive to him. Perhaps the changes in me and the changes he's facing, are such that it's just not possible? I don't know the answers and I don't think he does either at this point. I think this is something we're going to have to take day to day and wait for it to unfold in its own time.
For now I will try to focus on enjoying the time and relationship I do have with him and maybe I'll open a window in the walls so he can climb back in.
***************************************************
Addendum 4/26/07
I talked with the Boss about this blog post and about the situation with my Sir. I had a mini-epiphany. I can accept a person's flaws and have very few expectations of them if I am not submissive to them. However, if I am submissive to someone I have higher expectations. But the Boss pointed something out to me. He reminded me that I do get my service and SM needs met through him. SO, I should just relax and enjoy what my Sir and I do have without trying to complicate it. Hmm... and why didn't I think of that? *shaking head*
New adventure, learning to relax and go with the flow!
Sometimes I don't know where I stand with him now. After having my trust dented by some decisions he made I pulled way back from him, including my submission. I didn't feel like I could trust him and if I can't trust a person I can't submit to that person. That was a couple of years ago, it took me a long time to trust him enough to want to submit to him again. It was a little while longer before I actually did. Since then our relationship has been very different.
I don't think I came back to him fully as a submissive. I've kept part of myself in reserve, afraid to trust him as completely as I did, not wanting to be hurt like that again. This makes it hard to be the s in a D/s relationship. Yet, part of me still wants to submit to him and doesn't want to lose the relationship entirely. I care a great deal for him and I genuinely like him.
I'm wanting to try to find my way back to him as a submissive, I just don't know how to do it. If I do end up losing the relationship with him I at least want to have spent the last bit of it as it started, submissive to him. Perhaps the changes in me and the changes he's facing, are such that it's just not possible? I don't know the answers and I don't think he does either at this point. I think this is something we're going to have to take day to day and wait for it to unfold in its own time.
For now I will try to focus on enjoying the time and relationship I do have with him and maybe I'll open a window in the walls so he can climb back in.
***************************************************
Addendum 4/26/07
I talked with the Boss about this blog post and about the situation with my Sir. I had a mini-epiphany. I can accept a person's flaws and have very few expectations of them if I am not submissive to them. However, if I am submissive to someone I have higher expectations. But the Boss pointed something out to me. He reminded me that I do get my service and SM needs met through him. SO, I should just relax and enjoy what my Sir and I do have without trying to complicate it. Hmm... and why didn't I think of that? *shaking head*
New adventure, learning to relax and go with the flow!
Monday, April 23, 2007
Collars and Connectedness
The collar we use is very obviously a collar and thus cannot be worn at home, much as I'd dearly like to. Perhaps this makes it more special, more symbolic. Whatever the reason, I long to wear a collar all the time. I feel safe, secure, and right wearing it.
He let me wear it longer than usual Saturday night. I got to wear it when we were visiting with the Tribe, while we played, and then right up until we parked in front of our home at the end of the night. It was with some reluctance that I shifted so he could access the lock and remove it.
Last night as soon as he got me into the bedroom for the night he stripped me bare and put the collar on. You could have pushed me over with a feather, happy as I was to be nude but for the collar and serving him. When he removed it my neck felt so naked, empty, bereft. I wanted to beg him to let me wear it to bed even though I knew it would be uncomfortable to sleep in.
I don't need a collar to prove anything to anyone or to myself. Nor do I need it in order to prove I'm a slave. It's just that I feel naked without it, I miss its presence around my neck. The ritual of him placing the collar around my neck and locking it is a reminder of my position, a Master's reclamation of his slave.
I want a daily collar that I can wear but only if it's something he wants me to have and wear. If he were to give me a daily collar simply because I asked for it, to me, it would lose some of its symbolism. It's a symbol of his ownership of me, much like a wedding ring is a symbol of marriage. It signifies my status as owned property and my commitment to my Master.
I know plenty of people who are quite happy without a daily collar and, in general, I'm one of those people. But in these past couple of days it has become more important to me to wear his collar all the time. I'm wondering if this change is related to the connection the Boss and I made Saturday night.
It was a rough night for me, emotionally speaking. I'd gotten my hopes up pretty high that the Boss and I would have our forced sex scene and before we left he told me he didn't think he'd be in the mood for it. He'd rather keep that type of play private between us. I was disappointed when he told me but I worked very hard to keep that out of my voice and to not have a bad attitude about it. I thought I was doing well with that. I didn't pout and my mood was good.
However, when we arrived at our destination I slowly became aggressive and slightly smart-mouthed. It was almost as if I was daring him to hurt me, challenging him to do so. Later on in the evening he and his partner in crime decided to do a takedown scene. The scene itself was fun, it was more playful fighting than anything serious. Yet, I found myself getting angry and ended up pretty upset afterwards. I think I was disappointed that I didn't get to go to the place I wanted/needed to go. I've had a lot of pent up stress and the very sadistic scenes are cathartic and help me find my slave center. I know that sounds a little silly but that's how it works for me.
The Boss spent some quiet time with me talking about my behavior and my emotions. I apologized for behaving badly and aggressively. I felt like an idiot at that point and couldn't believe I'd done it. I almost asked if we could go home because I was embarrassed by my behavior. I kept my teeth closed and didn't ask that question but instead took the comfort he offered and threw myself into having a better evening. The rest of the evening was good and he even played with me again. By the end of the scene I felt that sense of peace and connectedness I'd been craving.
He spent most of the scene making physical contact with me. Some part of his body was always touching me while we played. He didn't take me to the breaking point, and didn't push me too far beyond what I could take. But through it I connected to him in a very deep and meaningful way. It was cathartic even without being pushed far and hard. At the end he pulled me into a big hug and just held me until I knelt in front of him, bent at the waist and wrapped myself around his leg kissing his foot, rested my cheek on his foot and continued to kiss his foot. I stayed there until he patted my bottom to indicate he wanted me to stand. He hugged and kissed me then set me to packing the toys up. I was peaceful, joyous even, and I'd found my slave center.
I think it is that feeling that I hope to capture and retain with the wearing of a daily collar. I want to always feel that centered peacefulness, that joy to serve, no matter what task he may give me. That feeling is associated with being in collar more often than not.
He let me wear it longer than usual Saturday night. I got to wear it when we were visiting with the Tribe, while we played, and then right up until we parked in front of our home at the end of the night. It was with some reluctance that I shifted so he could access the lock and remove it.
Last night as soon as he got me into the bedroom for the night he stripped me bare and put the collar on. You could have pushed me over with a feather, happy as I was to be nude but for the collar and serving him. When he removed it my neck felt so naked, empty, bereft. I wanted to beg him to let me wear it to bed even though I knew it would be uncomfortable to sleep in.
I don't need a collar to prove anything to anyone or to myself. Nor do I need it in order to prove I'm a slave. It's just that I feel naked without it, I miss its presence around my neck. The ritual of him placing the collar around my neck and locking it is a reminder of my position, a Master's reclamation of his slave.
I want a daily collar that I can wear but only if it's something he wants me to have and wear. If he were to give me a daily collar simply because I asked for it, to me, it would lose some of its symbolism. It's a symbol of his ownership of me, much like a wedding ring is a symbol of marriage. It signifies my status as owned property and my commitment to my Master.
I know plenty of people who are quite happy without a daily collar and, in general, I'm one of those people. But in these past couple of days it has become more important to me to wear his collar all the time. I'm wondering if this change is related to the connection the Boss and I made Saturday night.
It was a rough night for me, emotionally speaking. I'd gotten my hopes up pretty high that the Boss and I would have our forced sex scene and before we left he told me he didn't think he'd be in the mood for it. He'd rather keep that type of play private between us. I was disappointed when he told me but I worked very hard to keep that out of my voice and to not have a bad attitude about it. I thought I was doing well with that. I didn't pout and my mood was good.
However, when we arrived at our destination I slowly became aggressive and slightly smart-mouthed. It was almost as if I was daring him to hurt me, challenging him to do so. Later on in the evening he and his partner in crime decided to do a takedown scene. The scene itself was fun, it was more playful fighting than anything serious. Yet, I found myself getting angry and ended up pretty upset afterwards. I think I was disappointed that I didn't get to go to the place I wanted/needed to go. I've had a lot of pent up stress and the very sadistic scenes are cathartic and help me find my slave center. I know that sounds a little silly but that's how it works for me.
The Boss spent some quiet time with me talking about my behavior and my emotions. I apologized for behaving badly and aggressively. I felt like an idiot at that point and couldn't believe I'd done it. I almost asked if we could go home because I was embarrassed by my behavior. I kept my teeth closed and didn't ask that question but instead took the comfort he offered and threw myself into having a better evening. The rest of the evening was good and he even played with me again. By the end of the scene I felt that sense of peace and connectedness I'd been craving.
He spent most of the scene making physical contact with me. Some part of his body was always touching me while we played. He didn't take me to the breaking point, and didn't push me too far beyond what I could take. But through it I connected to him in a very deep and meaningful way. It was cathartic even without being pushed far and hard. At the end he pulled me into a big hug and just held me until I knelt in front of him, bent at the waist and wrapped myself around his leg kissing his foot, rested my cheek on his foot and continued to kiss his foot. I stayed there until he patted my bottom to indicate he wanted me to stand. He hugged and kissed me then set me to packing the toys up. I was peaceful, joyous even, and I'd found my slave center.
I think it is that feeling that I hope to capture and retain with the wearing of a daily collar. I want to always feel that centered peacefulness, that joy to serve, no matter what task he may give me. That feeling is associated with being in collar more often than not.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Extreme
He starts lovingly, suckling her nipples, building her arousal higher and higher. His cock, stiff with need, rubs against her inner thigh already dripping precum in anticipation of what is about to happen.
He stops suckling and looks at her, his eyes gone hard, cold, devoid of the tender side of him. The Sadist has come out to play. He slaps her face then grabs a fistful of her hair, right at the nape of her neck. He holds her in place while he slaps her breasts first the right and then the left. She struggles to hold still and accept the slaps for him, her cheek stinging and her breasts beginning to burn. He looks into her eyes and tells her what she's going to take for him, what she's going to do for him, then pulls her around the room by her hair, forcing her to bend following his hand as he lowers it to waist-height. She struggles but follows him, stumbling only once, then he throws her onto the floor and tells her to stay put. She struggles to her knees, not understanding what he is doing. He lands a backhanded slap against the opposite cheek and she looks up at him, defiance burning in her eyes, nostrils flaring. He chuckles, a low, humorless noise, then grabbing her hair he pushes her face down against the floor, places his foot at the back of her neck and holds her there. She struggles, her hands clawing at his leg until he handcuffs her wrists together behind her. She screams, cursing him... He kneels then, straddling her upper back, facing her upturned ass, his cock and balls resting heavily on her back. He begins to slap her ass hard, over and over, raining blow after blow against that soft white flesh. She squirms, trying to get away from him. She lets her knees go out from under her in an attempt to get away from the unrelenting beating. He follows her down and continues to spank her until her flesh is an angry red and is hot to the touch. She lies still beneath him gasping and sobbing, praying he is finished, knowing all the while that he's only just begun...
He climbs off of her and pulls her up to her knees as he stands in front of her. His cock is leaking copious amounts of precum, he growls an order to clean it off.. she licks and sucks at his cock as if she were starved for it. He grips the back of her head and forces himself deep into her throat while pinching her nose tightly closed. She begins to struggle, some small amount of panic setting in. Every other time he's done this she had her hands free so she could tap his leg to let him know she'd reached her limit. Would he let her breathe in time? She tried to calm herself, to relax, trusting in him. She couldn't control her body's struggles for air though... her lungs burned with need. He forced himself just a little further into her throat and then pulled out, letting her gasp for air...
***
I crave this type of play and more. I want him to use me, to allow me to be the vehicle for his pleasure. This is the cat and mouse dance of Sadist and prey, struggle, force, and acquiescence.
The outcome is always the same, I am worshipful, soft, vulnerable, wide open, and needy for his affection. Sometimes I crawl to the floor and kiss his feet, thanking him for his attentions. Sometimes I just lay limply in his arms, thoroughly exhausted and content.
On one of the e-mail lists I participate on the question was asked "What deepens your feelings of submission?" What I wrote above is it. Being used by the Sadist as nothing more than an object does it for me. It rips away all notion of self and selfishness, leaving a pliant servant in its wake.
In the long term I find myself searching for ways to improve my service to him or to improve myself for him. Honorifics are beginning to fall from my lips unbidden, unplanned, naturally. It feels natural to do so. In the past I've always felt self-conscious about using honorifics, it felt silly, unnatural. Not so anymore. I see this as just one sign of my deepening submission to him.
Tomorrow night we have planned a scene where Sadist and prey will play together. Some would call it a takedown scene, others would call it forced/rough sex or play rape. I just think of it as playing with the Sadist, the real Sadist. The one who doesn't care about my pleasure or discomfort. This Sadist gets off on my pain, screams, protests, and tears. He has no regard for my sense of propriety. To him I'm an object to be used and he uses me, brutally. Often while f*cking me he will force several fingers deeply into my bottom with no more lubrication than a coating of his saliva. He is growling behind me, his excitement builds with each scream he wrenches from my throat. I hold nothing back from him, I scream, wail, beg, and plead. "Please Master, please, please, please.." Sometimes I don't know if I'm begging him to stop or if I'm begging him to continue using me in any way he sees fit.
I hope he cuts my clothes off tomorrow night, I hope he cuts me, I hope it hurts. I want to bleed for him, I want him to feed from me, my blood or my milk... or both. *squirm* I'm rather aroused now... I wonder if he'll allow me an orgasm tonight?
He stops suckling and looks at her, his eyes gone hard, cold, devoid of the tender side of him. The Sadist has come out to play. He slaps her face then grabs a fistful of her hair, right at the nape of her neck. He holds her in place while he slaps her breasts first the right and then the left. She struggles to hold still and accept the slaps for him, her cheek stinging and her breasts beginning to burn. He looks into her eyes and tells her what she's going to take for him, what she's going to do for him, then pulls her around the room by her hair, forcing her to bend following his hand as he lowers it to waist-height. She struggles but follows him, stumbling only once, then he throws her onto the floor and tells her to stay put. She struggles to her knees, not understanding what he is doing. He lands a backhanded slap against the opposite cheek and she looks up at him, defiance burning in her eyes, nostrils flaring. He chuckles, a low, humorless noise, then grabbing her hair he pushes her face down against the floor, places his foot at the back of her neck and holds her there. She struggles, her hands clawing at his leg until he handcuffs her wrists together behind her. She screams, cursing him... He kneels then, straddling her upper back, facing her upturned ass, his cock and balls resting heavily on her back. He begins to slap her ass hard, over and over, raining blow after blow against that soft white flesh. She squirms, trying to get away from him. She lets her knees go out from under her in an attempt to get away from the unrelenting beating. He follows her down and continues to spank her until her flesh is an angry red and is hot to the touch. She lies still beneath him gasping and sobbing, praying he is finished, knowing all the while that he's only just begun...
He climbs off of her and pulls her up to her knees as he stands in front of her. His cock is leaking copious amounts of precum, he growls an order to clean it off.. she licks and sucks at his cock as if she were starved for it. He grips the back of her head and forces himself deep into her throat while pinching her nose tightly closed. She begins to struggle, some small amount of panic setting in. Every other time he's done this she had her hands free so she could tap his leg to let him know she'd reached her limit. Would he let her breathe in time? She tried to calm herself, to relax, trusting in him. She couldn't control her body's struggles for air though... her lungs burned with need. He forced himself just a little further into her throat and then pulled out, letting her gasp for air...
***
I crave this type of play and more. I want him to use me, to allow me to be the vehicle for his pleasure. This is the cat and mouse dance of Sadist and prey, struggle, force, and acquiescence.
The outcome is always the same, I am worshipful, soft, vulnerable, wide open, and needy for his affection. Sometimes I crawl to the floor and kiss his feet, thanking him for his attentions. Sometimes I just lay limply in his arms, thoroughly exhausted and content.
On one of the e-mail lists I participate on the question was asked "What deepens your feelings of submission?" What I wrote above is it. Being used by the Sadist as nothing more than an object does it for me. It rips away all notion of self and selfishness, leaving a pliant servant in its wake.
In the long term I find myself searching for ways to improve my service to him or to improve myself for him. Honorifics are beginning to fall from my lips unbidden, unplanned, naturally. It feels natural to do so. In the past I've always felt self-conscious about using honorifics, it felt silly, unnatural. Not so anymore. I see this as just one sign of my deepening submission to him.
Tomorrow night we have planned a scene where Sadist and prey will play together. Some would call it a takedown scene, others would call it forced/rough sex or play rape. I just think of it as playing with the Sadist, the real Sadist. The one who doesn't care about my pleasure or discomfort. This Sadist gets off on my pain, screams, protests, and tears. He has no regard for my sense of propriety. To him I'm an object to be used and he uses me, brutally. Often while f*cking me he will force several fingers deeply into my bottom with no more lubrication than a coating of his saliva. He is growling behind me, his excitement builds with each scream he wrenches from my throat. I hold nothing back from him, I scream, wail, beg, and plead. "Please Master, please, please, please.." Sometimes I don't know if I'm begging him to stop or if I'm begging him to continue using me in any way he sees fit.
I hope he cuts my clothes off tomorrow night, I hope he cuts me, I hope it hurts. I want to bleed for him, I want him to feed from me, my blood or my milk... or both. *squirm* I'm rather aroused now... I wonder if he'll allow me an orgasm tonight?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)