(This is a long blog. Really long. A lot happened since I last posted. I just wanted to warn you.
Also, I put an unedited version of this post up here last night, and Master read it after it went online and … after calling me to my knees at his feet, he brought a few things to my attention this morning.
For one, there’s the cookie eating. I tend to eat food if it’s available, and so I didn’t keep much around my apartment when I was living by myself. At Master’s home, however, the larders and fridge are always full of stuff, so Master has me on food restrictions, in that I can’t eat snacks without his explicit approval. And I didn’t get approval for the cookies. He didn’t punish me, because he said he could understand my submission to temptation in the presence of a big tin full of mouth-watering treats, but he also told me to work harder to make sure I didn’t slip up again. I took the cookies to my ex's house as a gift to my kids to avoid temptation, and Master has approved of my solution to the situation. *grins*
Also, Master wanted me to make sure I corrected a couple of errors. One was that I stated that he would binge eat late at night before bed. It should be noted that M’Lady does that, but Master does not. Secondly, months ago, soon after I had first met Master, I said he was about 70 years old. Afterward I found out he’s actually about 60 years old, but I never corrected his age.
Anyway, on with the post … )
Wow. It’s, err, Tuesday night. It’s been more than a week since I’ve posted.
Last week was a bit different than most weeks. But then, heck, I’ve given up on experiencing a “normal” week anytime in the near future.
But, all kidding aside, the last week and a half have been a real mess.
I’ve been sick on and off. I had several serious crying jags (a.k.a. “meltdowns”) about various things. And, in the end, I wound up binding to Master emotionally deeper than ever before.
It’s definitely been a long week.
Excuse me while I go get a gingerbread cookie, one of a huge batch I made with a bunch of other slaves at a holiday cookie party yesterday morning.
*num num num*
Okay, back. That wasn’t exactly a low-calorie break, as I ate two gingerbread cookies, half an apple-oatmeal cookie, half a mint-chocolate cookie, half an oatmeal raisin cookie, and half of a ginger cookie. *counts the cookies and grimaces*
Yep. I did something wrong. I should have had milk with them, too. *grins* (And, yeah, I’ve been on a diet the last couple of weeks. It’s been working. So far, I haven’t gained any weight, which is realistically all you can hope during the Christmas season. )
Back to the meltdowns … the first happened, of all things, when I was looking in the mirror and lamenting my hair. Sherman, set the Wayback Machine to March 30th of this year, when I was out of town and, at a friend’s insistence, I decided to get highlights put in my hair at a salon my friend said was great. The salon was run by people from Thailand, and a horrible mistranslation occurred. One of my most lovely features has always been my curly hair, and I was telling the stylist how proud I was of it when, somehow, she thought I was saying I hated my hair. To make matters worse, she was clueless, a novice and working without real supervision. First, she chemically straightened my hair. When I found out and freaked, she then permed it, to my shock, and claimed she had fixed it. Then she dyed my hair and put the highlights in. Four chemical treatments over a four-hour period. Yeah, you heard right. She totally destroyed my hair. It’s a miracle it didn’t all fall out. Ever since then, the only way I could wear my hair and look anything short of absolutely hideous was to wear it in a ponytail. Early last week, however, after a busy day that got me tired, I was looking at my hair in the mirror and I started crying and couldn’t stop for a long time. Finally I went downstairs and started working on chores, but it started hitting me again, and Master called me to his side, and I bawled for a very long time in his arms. Afterward, Master and M’Lady said they would contact their personal stylist, who comes to their home to do their hair every couple of months, to come by ahead of time to do my hair. Eventually, I finally stopped crying and went upstairs, and I played SecondLife to get away from reality, and that got me feeling good enough for bed, and I fell asleep safely curled up next to Master.
It’s hard to say what got me to break down and become so depressed like that, but in a way I felt like it was something that had been eating up at me for a long time … although last week was weird in other ways.
One thing unusual was I hardly did any of my normal chores. Instead, I spent several days going through my boxes in Master’s garage. Those boxes, which probably would take up a four-foot by four-foot by 15-foot space, make up everything I own (along with my clothes and my car, which is 17 years old and has a blue-book value of about $500). Well, Master wants me to go through my possessions and shrink what I own even more … which has led me to give things to my ex and to pack up boxes for donation to thrift stores, along with throwing things away. Master wants me to store neatly in my room or on basement shelves (I’ve got a lot of books) the leftover things I really want to keep, and working to figure out all of that kept me busy for a few days. Despite the fact that Master wanted me to do it, I still felt guilty because things were piling up, and the floors were getting dirty. And that got me stressed in a slight but constant way.
Fortunately it was an easy week for cooking because Master got out fancy frozen dinners for most of the days (He buys them at a place called “Supper Solutions,” which is puts all the ingredients together for you for some fancy meals, and all you have to do is cook everything as directed). Last week was my first week for scheduling the menus, and Master wanted to make it relatively easy for me by providing me with a set of six main courses he knew would work, and all I had to do was arrange the right days and figure out the side dishes.
As I may have mentioned before, cooking has become the center of my day, without a doubt. Everything I do in the morning and afternoon is leading up to preparation of the dinner meal, and afterward is the time for winding down, during which I’m given time off. Master and M’Lady do love their food, and they love it done right. Their eating habits are a bit unusual, however. M’Lady always skips breakfast and lunch. Master usually does as well, although sometimes I can convince him to eat something simple (like oatmeal), and he occasionally enjoys making something himself for lunch, like ramen soup or a ham sandwich. Also, M’Lady is notorious for snacking late before bed, usually on leftovers from the previous dinners. So with all that in mind, my dinner planning has to be top notch to serve their desires.
Fortunately, I’m getting the hang of it. Last week I got the meals figured out to their pleasure, and I was able to get them to eat some veggies for a change, hopefully to their lasting benefit. Because he was used to doing it by himself, Master tended to plan the meals such that there’s one thing to eat, usually a casserole, with no side dishes. Last week I fixed for them (alongside the main meal) leafy salads, garlic carrots, mashed potatoes and something called “Southwestern Rice Salad,” which turned out to be more popular that night than the entrée (and was a hit for lunches the following days). It’s definitely going into the repeat recipes, and I’ve got it listed below.
To make matters even more stressful, Master started getting sick last Tuesday with headaches and achiness, and he’s been fighting it since. It’s been a roller-coaster ride, with him feeling better one day and worse the next, and everybody will be so relieved when he finally kicks it out of his system. Being sick resulted in us cancelling plans to have dinner with another slave Owner and his girl, along with us missing events at the Sanctuary BDSM club. Because Master’s so known in the local BDSM community, everybody’s gotten the word about his ailments, and I’ve had some wonderful offers from other slaves to help out if needed. Master, being the big tiger that he is (he’s physically very big and tall, and Panthera tigris is his spirit guide), has pretty much taken it upon himself to handle his own aches and pains, with my job being to make sure the house runs as smoothly as possible while he’s suffering. He also tends to suffer in silence, so it’s often very hard for anybody to know when he’s having a bad time of it … which doesn’t exactly make my job easier.
I’ve been feeling a bit unusually achy and mentally fuzzy myself during the last week, which is part of why I haven’t been writing. Last night I was determined to catch up, and I just couldn’t do it, and wound up going to bed unexpectedly early. It’s also possibly why I’ve been so emotionally fragile the last week. Like most people, I tend to have the least emotional and mental resistance to depression when I’m tired and sick, and with my history of clinical depression, I always have to be on my guard lest the ice I’m walking on cracks underneath my emotional baggage. Despite that, Master continues to say I’m the best slave he’s ever had, and yesterday he again told me (after I surprised him by putting together by myself this week’s entire meal plan, of which all but one of the entrees will be cooked from scratch) that he is extremely happy with having me here as his slave. My heart sings whenever he says something like that, and truly it did yesterday, especially knowing that by doing that I’m giving him a chance to recover and not worry about things like figuring out the food.
But … last week my emotional strength wasn’t that stable, as I was saying earlier in today’s posting.
Another problem that happened was connected, of all things, with holiday shopping for my kids in the wake of a wonderful gift from Master.
Early last week, I was thinking of how addicted my son is to video games, and how I need him to exercise more. And I had the week before played around with a Wii for the first time at another slave’s home (the one with the Gorean Master). In case you’re not familiar with it, a Wii uses a controller that has internal motion detectors and isn’t connected to the main system, communicating where it is via infrared. As a result, the Wii allows for games where a person can use the controller for truly physical activities, such as tennis and hockey and boxing and air guitar (via Guitar Hero, which the other slave had, allowing us to have a great time playing concerts together while our two Masters talked at length on whatever Masters talk about). Well, I figured if I couldn’t totally wean my son from video games, maybe I could add exercise to them, and so I decided a Wii might be a solution, and my ex agreed.
Well, I had a few hundred dollars left from last month’s expenses, and I was going to use it for the system and a game, and I told Master and ... to my complete astonishment, he responded by giving me as a Christmas bonus the money to not only buy the Wii system and sports package, but also enough to get several games for it – and then he threw in an additional $75 gift certificate he had to make it even cheaper for me if I bought it at Best Buy (an electronics store he frequents). I was so overwhelmed by his generosity that I broke down and cried in his arms, and he hugged me tightly in reply. Looking back, I should have realized that my uncontrolled response to his gift might have been an indication that my emotions for the week were a bit hypercharged, but instead the two of us just accepted my feelings for what they were and went on with it.
That evening I made the mistake, however, of finding out that Wal-Mart was running a sale in which if you bought a Wii you got a $50 gift certificate. I thought that was a great deal, and even though it would be cheaper for me to use Master’s gift certificate, I figured that if I bought the Wii at Wal-Mart Master would be able to keep his certificate for his own use, and I would use the Wal-Mart certificate to buy something else for the Wii as I had already planned. The problem was, however, that the sale was such a success that none of the Wal-Marts in town had any Wii systems left. And things kept getting worse, dragging me into an awful spiral. A clerk at a Wal-Mart I was at said they would be getting some in that night at 11 P.M. And so I went there and they weren’t in stock, and it turns out the clerk didn’t know what he was talking about (although he told several other annoyed customers the same thing). During the next couple of hours that night, and for a couple of hours the next day, I called Wal-Marts all over town, and I was getting such a run around from Wal-Mart employees who had conflicting information that it was driving me crazy. I finally found one that said they were getting just a couple of Wii systems in before the sale was over, but the clerks there were so rude they hung up on me when I asked when they would be on the shelf. I had to complain to a manager before I was finally told they would be available at 10 P.M., but when I called back near then, I was told they would be on the shelf at midnight, then later I was told they would be held back until 7 A.M. the following morning, and … I just couldn’t take it anymore, and Master saw that. He called me to his knees and told me to express my feelings, and I broke down yet again at everything. Master asked me if saving $50 was really worth all the anguish it was causing me, and I shook my tear-streaked face in response. Master then asked me what I wanted, and I said I really wish I had never learned Wal-Mart was having the sale, and, even though Master was feeling tired, he told me he wanted to go with me to Best Buy that night and help me make the purchase of everything.
Afterward, I felt much calmer, of course, but still very frazzled emotionally, and Master told me he hoped I had learned a lesson, which was to go with his wisdom in such matters, and that the pursuit of a few dollars isn’t worth the mental stress it often brings. Hopefully, I’ve taken that guidance to heart permanently.
During the drive to the store and back, Master and I talked, and I told him how this again shows that I’m one of those people who not just wants to be controlled, but someone who truly needs it. Every time in my life when I’ve been on my own I tend to screw things up. Yes, if I had been given more opportunities to screw up when I was young, I might have learned from the process, but I didn’t – my parents controlled me right through college, and then I almost immediately got married to somebody very dominant (with the few months in between college and marriage just going to show yet again my lack of ability to take care of myself responsibly). I told Master that it’s people like me that are truly slaves at heart because that’s what we’re truly best at, having been trained at it and conditioned for it and mentally geared for it (and possibly biologically programmed for it, but that’s a “nature versus nurture” argument that’s been discussed ad infinitum by other people, and I’ll save it for later). Master agrees with my reasoning, and I went to bed feeling good yet again that I’m his girl.
The next afternoon was my son’s birthday (he turned 11), and I decided as a surprise to present the Wii system early, with one of the games as his birthday present. My ex and I had some fun with it, as I gave my son the game disk, and he looked at it happily until he saw it was for a Wii, and he said he couldn’t play it because we didn’t have one, and so I faked a sigh and said, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to get one, you think?” and I pulled out the Wii system console from a hiding place, and … Holy cats! Did his eyes light up! *giggles* Let’s just say the ruse had the desired effect! He was saying he felt like he was dreaming, and as silly as that was, it was truly a joy to see such pleasure in his eyes.
What I got for him, by the way, was a Star Wars “Lightsaber Duels” game, in which the Wii controller acts as a lightsaber, allowing the player to combat a host of opponents one after another. It’s actually a quite active game physically if you get into it, and my son definitely gets into it, so the system is already on its way to having the desired effect. I just hope he maintains his interest in working out that way. He’d better, because I pretty much shot my wad financially getting that for them. But then, I hear that kind of spending isn’t exactly uncommon among a lot of parents in regards to holiday shopping. Fortunately, my daughter is easy to buy for, so except for the Wii, gift purchasing has been relatively inexpensive this year.
So anyway, Friday with my two kids was a lot of fun, and that leads to Saturday … the morning of the haircut.
First of all, the stylist was late, and I had to sit around nervously for her to arrive, not being able to do anything but try to figure out recipes.
Finally she shows up and … chaos ensues, from my perspective, anyway. She and Master get to talking back and forth and to me and they try and explain what can be done and will be done and ought to be done and then they ask me what I want and … I get incredibly confused. Hopelessly confused. Horribly confused.
My wolf side freaks out. It can’t handle what’s going on. It can’t deal with the barrage of information. It falls back into fight-or-flight syndrome.
And I melt down and do the unthinkable.
I order Master to stop talking to me and to leave me alone.
And he did that and left the room without a word, anger clearly written all over his features.
And I’m crying throughout most of the haircut session because I’m unsure what’s happening and I’m all upset and I hate myself for upsetting Master.
In the end, the stylist cuts off almost all of my damaged hair, and my hair looks better. It still doesn’t look great because, as things are now, there’s about four inches of healthy hair and about three inches of destroyed hair. And, despite Master saying the stylist was fantastic, it’s clear she could have done better with my hair. She even forgot to cut my bangs, and as a result hair is hanging down ridiculously over my eyes. I think she may have rushed because I was so upset about everything, and I don’t really blame her.
After she left, Master called me to his feet. He wasn’t happy.
He was furious that I behaved like that, not just in his presence, but embarrassing him in his own house.
I started to bawl again, and I begged him to punish me.
Instead, he ordered me to talk and explain myself, and what had gone on in my head during the haircut session.
I tried to make sense of it all as I told him my feelings. I told him about how the wolf side of me had been making me feel like I was in a corner, and how I had responded to that by doing the equivalent of growling and barking and frantically trying to get away.
And Master responded by saying he was told something a long time ago about his own tiger spiritual nature by a wise person. “The tiger cannot be tamed, only trained,” he told me.
And I need to do that with my wolf nature, he said.
And right about then, something changed inside me. Like reality shifted a bit. Like my inner stability moved to a new cornerstone.
I realized I had always chosen to obey Master consciously.
But it was a conscious choice only. As a result, when I became upset about things and started acting instinctively, I would lose control. I wouldn’t automatically obey anymore.
And, with the realization of that hitting me, Saturday morning I made a conscious decision to … submit to Master unconsciously.
It’s hard to explain, but I suddenly felt as if I had let go of the final hold I had on independence and self control.
I felt as if finally I had reached the point where I willingly gave up everything to Master – even my subconscious decision-making abilities.
Oh, I’ll still make decisions for myself. Master wants me to do things, like plan meals, so he doesn’t have to. He has no desire to completely micromanage me or any other slave.
But any such decisions are always subject to Master’s approval – or denial. Always.
I know that, at heart, all the barriers are gone now.
I’m Master’s possession in every way now.
I told him that. I told him how I suddenly felt. And he nodded understandingly, and he asked me whether I think he should punish me.
And I responded that, as his property, such a decision is purely up to him as he sees fit.
And he told me that was the right answer, and he ordered me into the basement.
After we entered his personal dungeon, he ordered me to take off my clothes. He then took off the wall a long, thin wooden paddle riddled with holes.
“This is my pain stick,” he said. “I never use it for play. I only use it for punishment when needed, and punishment is needed today.”
He then ordered me to bend over a workhorse, and he whacked my ass hard with it. And it hurt more than any paddle I’ve ever felt, and tears flowed from my eyes.
I steeled myself, ready for more, but instead he told me to put my clothes back on, because my lesson had been learned.
And that was that. I went to my kids afterward, and we had a great time all day.
The next day, what I had learned Saturday came out in a good way.
As mentioned at the beginning of today’s post, Sunday was a cookie-baking session held at the home of a Master and slave who are friends with my Master. By the time things got good and going, there were about a half-dozen women, at least three of us in full-time slave relationships, and at least one of the others formerly in a submissive bondage-oriented BDSM relationship.
Well, I was really looking forward to going, and I left ahead of time to help set up the place, and … I got lost. I had written the instructions on how to get there wrong. And I called one of the slaves I knew, and she didn’t answer. And I called another one, and she also didn’t answer. Normally, I might have freaked a bit but instead … I thought to myself, “How would I act if Master was here with me?” And that calmed me down immensely.
See, that’s something Master told me Saturday morning, and it stuck. He told me that I need to get to a point where I feel his control of me all the time, non-stop, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. I need to allow myself to be his incessantly, without a break, whatever the situation.
And that’s the way things are now. I’m his. Totally. In every way.
La kajira!
p.s. I figure I should mention one other thing – the cookies turned out fantastic. Super fantastic. I’m a huge fan of gingerbread, and this is the best recipe I’ve ever had (it’s been in my family for years, so I knew long before Sunday that it would be a success). I’ve copied it below for everybody’s enjoyment.
By the end of the party, I had a big tin full of both my own and everybody else's cookies (I lost track of how many dozen cookies I had made), and I brought them back for Master and M'Lady to enjoy. They each took one and said it was great, then Master ordered me to hide them out of his sight. Not that he didn't like them, but the opposite -- Master and M'Lady are both diabetic, and Master said there was no way they'd be able to resist the cookies unless I made sure they couldn't find them. After eating a few myself (as mentioned at the beginning of the blog) I've since given the rest away, primarily to the enjoyment of my kids and ex-spouse. *chuckles*
p.p.s. By the way, "Guitar Hero" is addicting, and I don't even own it yet. Instead, I got a copy of a great free game called "Frets on Fire," which is a blast to play, and it's taken up way too much of my time at night during the last couple of days (time that would have been better spent writing this blog or editing my novel). You can download it here, by the way. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Southwestern Rice Salad
This meatless salad makes a robust side dish, filling lunch or satisfying snack. Try spooning some into low-fat tortillas for a main course. If you're counting fat grams, it's also tasty without the olives.
7 Servings
Prep: 20 min. + chilling
Ingredients
* 2 cups cooked long grain rice, cooled
* 1 cup cooked wild rice, cooled
* (Note: For the rice, use a six-ounce box of Uncle Ben’s “Long Grain and Wild Rice”, preparing as directed but discarding the seasoning packet)
* 1 can (16 ounces) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
* 1-1/2 cups frozen corn, thawed
* 1/2 cup diced red onion
* 1/2 cup diced green pepper
* 1 can (2-1/4 ounces) sliced ripe olives, drained
* 1-1/2 cups chunky salsa
* 1/2 cup reduced-fat Italian salad dressing
* 1 teaspoon ground cumin
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
* chipotle chili peppers in adobo sauce (optional)
Directions
* In a large bowl, combine the first seven ingredients.
* In a jar with a tight-fitting lid, combine salsa, salad dressing, cumin and salt, then shake well.
* To make spicier, finely chop one or more of the chili peppers and add to the mix
* Pour over rice mixture and stir to coat.
* Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Better than Heaven” Gingerbread
1/2 cup butter (softened)
1 cup brown sugar (firmly packed)
1 1/2 cup light molasses
2/3 cup water or apple juice
6 1/2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon allspice
Cream butter and sugar together in a mixture
Add other liquids one at a time
Put together all the dry ingredients in another bowl
Gradually add dry ingredients to wet mixture
Cover tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate several hours
Roll out and cut into shapes.
Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment