A blizzard of snow and an explosion of carrots have got me rather tired and a bit achy today.
Yep! *giggles*
Master has given me a half-hour break to rest before dinner. I’ve spent the last couple of hours cleaning tiny bits of carrot out from underneath the kitchen sink and everywhere around it. It’s amazing how many little cracks and hard-to-reach spaces there are under there, and I had to admit to Master that I wouldn’t be able to get every single bit of the orange veggie from the darkest recesses. He laughed it off, and afterward he called me to his knees, hugged me tightly, kissed my head, told me he was quite proud of me, and asked me how I was doing. I smiles, incredibly happy at his praise, and told him I was tired but otherwise feeling great, and he kissed me again and sent me off to rest.
The carrots didn’t actually explode, mind you. Yesterday Master and M’Lady were at the bulk-foods store (Costco), and Master asked me if there was anything in particular I enjoyed eating. I couldn’t think of much until he mentioned he had a juicer, and I jumped excitedly and begged him for a big bunch of carrots, because I absolutely LOVE carrot juice!
Well, today, Master got out his juicer to make watermelon juice for himself (he uses everything, rinds and all, which he says have antioxidants), and then it was my turn. All went well until I tried to get all the carrot pulp to go through the disposal. The pulp clogged up the drainpipe a bit, and when Master saw it, he proceeded to get the plunger to push it through. Well … it so happened that the pipe was actually broken already, and when Master used the plunger, the carrot shrapnel went flying all over the space under the sink, causing a huge mess.
I shrugged, sighed and set down to work at seeing it, cleaning a space for Master to get in to examine the pipe. Seeing the problem (he’s REALLY smart), he went off to the hardware store for needed parts while I cleaned up.
M’Lady came by and didn’t say much, instead just watching briefly to make sure I did a good job. She did, however, take advantage of my work by accepting my offer of a glass of carrot juice. And that made it all worth it, because M’Lady has a tendency to eat a junky diet, and anything I can do to help encourage her to eat or drink healthy foods makes me feel wonderful (and carrot juice is SO good for her!!! *bounces happily*).
Tonight we’re all going to the Denver Sanctuary BDSM club for their annual Halloween party. Mistress is letting me borrow a splendid “Queen of Hearts” outfit that’s really sexy, and I can’t wait to go.
It’s great that the weather is finally cleared off, too. A few days ago we had a humongous blizzard that closed down the city prettymuch, and we were snowed in for a couple of days. There was actually a bit of concern for awhile that the snow would continue to the weekend, ruining Halloween for everybody, but … horray! The weather’s cold but othewise great!
The worst part about the snow to me was the fact that I wasn’t able to see my kids yet this week, and I really miss them. But tomorrow I’ll be with them, and my ex and I are planning that I see them extran next week to make up for this week, so things should be sweet! *grins happily*
I feel a bit depressed about today, though. Master and M’Lady don’t give out candy to Trick or Treaters. And I wasn’t able to go with my kids to the Halloween Carnival at the local high school because of the blizzard. This is the first year in decades . . . maybe ever . . . that Trick or Treating hasn’t been part of the holiday for me. No kids today. No happy faces thrilled at the candy you give them. No little boys and girls dressed as fairies and super heroes and princesses and ninjas. My son was dressed as a ghoul with glowing eyes. My daughter was dressed as Hermione from Harry Potty. I haven’t seen their costumes. Okay, I’m definitely depressed about this.I’m going to the Halloween party tonight with Master and M’Lady but . . . to me, Halloween is about kids. And I feel like this is the first year ever I’ll be missing Halloween.
*sighs*
Although Master got the driveway cleared enough to get out to check the mail for his business yesterday (a neighborhood boy wanted to do it for some cash, and Master decided to have him do it instead of me), finishing the job was left in my hands today (my car was still snowed in, and the sidewalks still needed to be uncovered). Let’s just say I got my exercise today! *grins*
Eeep. The half hour’s up … time to make dinner! Back later!
. . .
Dinner was . . . draining. Tonight’s recipe (“Pork and Aspargus over Linguine”) was surprisingly complicated, and the recipe he gave me turned out to be missing an important sentence that caused some definite confusion. Master, seeing my befuddlement, came in and gave me some cooking pointers, some about things I didn’t know, and some about things I should have known but was too brain dead to notice (such as the fact that I should have cut up everything ahead of time, and that the linquine should have been timed to be done at the end instead of near the beginning).
Everything turned out fine in the end, but I was so mentally exhausted at one point that I came very close to breaking down crying with frustration and sorrow that I might not be pleasing my Owner.
He is my life. My everything.
My journal lately too much has been talking about my activities. I don’t know whether I’m talking enough about my heart.
I love my Owner. I want him to own me mind, body and soul. I want him to use me completely in every way.
I realized last night, and I told him today, that there is a reason I’m slightly masochistic.
My masochism is directed only toward my Owners.
By being hurt by them against my wishes, it reaffirms their true ownership of me. And, to me, the bliss of knowing that brings a joy beyond words.
Ton ight Master sent me something to ponder … a writing by an anonymous author … about slavery. He wanted my opnion on it, and we’ll be discussing it on the way to the Sanctuary tonight.
The writing reaffirms what I told him. Entitled “Slave: A Unique Definition,” it’s printed at the end of today’s post.
I don’t agree with everything in it, as I think the writer was a bit too pretentious. But, at heart, it’s right in so many ways.
Things have been so different here in so many ways from being with Mistress.
With Mistress, there was a sexual passion that lingered in the air, making things charged at all times. There was an awareness that I was to be ready at all times to be used for my womanhood, and that my mouth was to be ready at all times to be placed around a visitor’s cock. Mistress would spank me and pinch me and tickle me unexpectedly at any time in a way that gave me wonderful proof over and over again that she truly owned me. There was a looseness of protocol at most times, yet a unique strictness. And the feelings shifted between Mistress seeing me as her slave and as her sister.
Here, indeed, I know I am a slave, without a doubt.
But the sexual tension isn’t there. I am a Victorian slave, not a medieval one, I guess. I have to be on my toes more to make sure the particular desires of Master and M’Lady are always fulfilled. Everything is in its proper place at all times. I am more of a slave here than with Mistress, and less.
It is, simply put, different.
I fit better here, I feel. Master clearly wants to keep me as his slave indefinitely, with the intention of supporting me financially in all ways needed. There is so much I can do here I couldn’t do for Mistress.
But I’m still getting used to things.
Fortunately, Master is quite patient.
And I have to be, as well.
La kajira!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
slave - a unique definition
A slave is a truly enraptured and enrapturing creature, capable of the greatest pain and the deepest passion. She is a temperamental creature, simultaneously fickle in her emotions, and fiercely, ferociously devoted in her affection.
She is tumultuous and tempestuous, a mercurial maelstrom, and she knows noother way to be. If she could, she would not change, because, on some primeval level, she realizes that the death of her passion would be the death of her.
In truth, a slave is not simply the finest of all creatures; she is the epitome of all creatures. She combines strength and weakness, boldness and a certain shy innocence, languor and desperation; she is both cosmopolitan and naive. Her nature is an amalgam of all that is passionate in any sense of the word. She is nothing without an owner, but in his arms, she is all things.
She is voracious and demanding, wanting nothing more, and certainly nothing less, than the absolute enslavement of the one she loves--the owner of her soul. She cannot be, will not be, and is incapable of being completely happy, until she knows to the very depths of her being that her owner is, in truth, owned by the reality of owning her.
She longs for the completion of a partner in her own rapture/misery. If you beat her, she will smile at you through her tears, because you have reaffirmed for her your ownership, your innate right to mistreat her if you please. If you kiss her, she will bite you, begging you with her passion to own her again, and more completely this time.
She is dangerous and daring. Self-preservation will never be her strong suit. She will beguile you to her last breath, knowing that without you, she cannot breathe at all. Her vulnerability will appall you with the knowledge that you could never-would never-- allow anyone that close to you, and at the same time, arouse in you every protective instinct you possess, to see that no one ever ravages this state of her-- except you.
She will define her entire world by your moods, enchanting herself with them, until she has internalized them so completely that a single look from you can bring her to laughter, or to tears, or to orgasm, or to suicide. She will love you with an abandon that will leave you stunned.
She will worry you, and nag you; she will threaten and cajole. And she will do it because she is incapable of holding back from you, even though she knows that you will pay it all no immediate heed, because your attention is your whim. She will revel in your denial of her pleasure. It only confirms her own desire.
But do not be misled. She is clever and she is fleet, and she will give you all you can handle and more. She knows her own value, and is not afraid to demand repayment in kind. She is not for the faint of heart, body, mind or resolve.
She will tax your every breath, your every thought, your every move. She is responsibility for something far greater than yourself and her independence in that will confound you.
Be wary, be attentive. Devastate her if you can, but know that she will only thank you for it if you do. And much to your consternation, she will politely, sweetly, touchingly beg you to do it again. And still she will want more.
But never destroy her adoration for you by withholding your own. Never give her cause to doubt it, because if you do, she will exact retribution and it will be the greatest agony you have ever known. She will withdraw from you. She will take her love and walk away without hesitation, because she is enslaved only by her love for you, and without that love, your power over her is gone.
She will leave you cold. And when she does, you will finally know that all along, you needed her too.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Day 80 - On Finding My Dream of Total Ownership, On Making a Lot of Mistakes, On Sitting Out a Blizzard, and on Missing Trick or Treating with My Kids for the First Time
My dreams have been fulfilled. Everything I was looking for when I decided to follow the path of consensual slavery has arrived. I’ve hit the big time as far as being a consensual slave goes.
I’m owned. Truly and completely now. Owned.
Master called me to kneel at his feet yesterday and bade me look him in the eyes. Then he told me firmly and calmly, “I don’t want you to ever worry about money again. I take care of my property. I will be fully responsible for you from now on. I will provide for your children’s expenses. I will pay for your insurance. I will give you the money you need to survive. You are mine.”
I stared at him with shock. Tears formed in my eyes. And I thrust myself forward and hugged him for a very long time while he hugged me back.
And I looked into his eyes and told him I loved him and thanked him over and over.
This is my life now. Full time.
I’m a slave.
And I love it.
Today we registered for a coming Master/slave regional conference in Phoenix we’ll be attending in January. We’ll be flying out together and staying for four days. We went over the list of activities and classes that will be taught. It’s incredible.
The conference is called the Southwest Leather Conference. You can find out about it here. http://www.southwestleather.org/swlchome/index.php
Among other events there, he and I will both be taking part in something known as the “Dance of Souls.” Our skin will be pierced, then fishing line will be thread through to hold small bells onto our skin.
And we will dance a wild frenzy of ecstacy.
It sounds horrible. I remember when I was invited to see a Sun Dance on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation years ago and I saw somebody who was hanging from the ceiling with their weight suspended from hooks through their flesh. (At least, that’s what it looked like they were doing). I shuddered at the sight and never forgot it, thinking such was something I could never stand to do for any reason.
Now I’m going to be experiencing a version of it.
I expect it will be nothing short of a euphoria made from pain and pleasure combined. I was told by Master (who has done it before) that it is a spiritual experience beyond words.
Things are continuing to go wonderfully here. Oh, I’m making mistakes, of course. There’s so much to learn. Everything has its place and is done in a particular way.
And the house is so big. It took me almost two hours just to clean Master’s bathroom yesterday, and equally long to clean Mistress’s.
But Master is wonderfully collected about making sure I know what I’m doing wrong so I can learn from it.
M’Lady isn’t always so kind. Such as tonight, during dinner. I cooked Lime Shrimp with Pasta. And I overcooked the shrimp, and M’Lady said it was “awful.”
And she hated the chicken pot pie I made for her a couple of days ago, even though everybody else I’ve made it for has loved it. And she snaps at me if I ever leave a room without turning off the lights, or for eating with the bowl in my lap while I was on the couch instead of leaning forward uncomfortably to eat from the table. And so on.
But although M’Lady is a bit caustic at times, she’s still a wonderful, loving woman at heart, and I love serving her as well.
And she did like the sauce and the pasta tonight enough to have a large dose of seconds. Just without the shrimp. Which I thought were quite yummy (I thought the texture accented the pasta perfectly), but it’s not my opinion that counts, of course.
M’Lady is a notoriously picky eater, by the way. She’s quite picky about everything! But, hey, that’s part of my life now, and if she gets picky, then I just make sure I pay extra care to the details!
It’s not just M’Lady who corrects me, of course.
Saturday night at the Sanctuary BDSM club, Master decided it was time for us to go home, and he ordered me to get our coats and my purse. As I picked up my purse, I saw a hand puppet of a witch inside (I had put it there and forgot), and I took it out and started doing improv puppetry, playing up the old witch’s personalty to the hilt while interacting with the people around me to everybody’s merriment. Curious at hearing a burst of laughter coming from the coat room, Master walked in to see the witch puppet (with me controlling it) standing on the bald head of a different Master, then sliding off onto his shoulder while saying, “Hey! Did you just wax that thing?” In response, Master grabbed my ponytail and pulled me hard to the ground with a very disapproving glare, and we left very quickly.
Master today told me that although everybody was enjoying it, I got lucky because a lot of people at the club, particularly dominants would not have liked a slave mocking them, even with a puppet. Also, he said he had told me to get the coats so we could leave, and instead he found me playing with a puppet.
I’ve learned a lesson, and a quick one. And I won’t forget it. And he said that’s what’s important – not that I made the mistake, but that I don’t do it again.
Things are serious now. But it’s my life, and it’s perfect for me.
*sighs and looks outside at the piled up snow*
I was going to take my kids Trick or Treating tonight at a local high school’s pre-Halloween event. I’ve taken them every year since they were infants, and I really wanted to do it again this year, but they’re both going with friends Halloween night, and so tonight at this event was my one chance.
Unfortunately, a a blizzard hit and there’s currently about 20 inches of snow on the ground (more or less), and it was canceled.
It’s going to be weird not going with my kids Trick or Treating this year but ... they’re finally old enough to go with friends by themselves. *sighs* They’re only seven and 10, but they’re growing up, and that’s both happy and sad in different ways.
Sunday with them was great. We went to the zoo together and had a blast, and my daughter and I did her homework together for hours.
Knowing Master will be my benefactor gives me such great peace because I know I don’t have to worry anymore about the awful job market. I’ve found my place. And my kids will be cared for as needed.
And I’ll be able to help my ex by taking care of them while my ex is in school if needed.
I’ll be able to be there for them when they need me. *smiles*
Master was going to be gone, too. Tonight, he was going to assist with a discussion group at the Sanctuary BDSM club for new people into the lifestyle.
As a result, we curled up together and watched a special about werewolves on the History Channel.
So far, he hasn’t actually played with me yet (BDSM-wise, that is), despite the fact he repeatedly says he’s a sadist, and he has a whole basement full of toys (along with a decade of experience). He told me tonight I’m still on a “honeymoon.”
I’m so tempted to tell him I recently realized I’m a bit of a masochist. But ... would I be spoiling the true effect of having him only do it when I don’t want it by telling him? Hmmm ...
And on that note, I think I’ll post this, and go see if Master might want to ... talk ... about something on my mind.
*bites my lip nervously and grins*
La kajira!
I’m owned. Truly and completely now. Owned.
Master called me to kneel at his feet yesterday and bade me look him in the eyes. Then he told me firmly and calmly, “I don’t want you to ever worry about money again. I take care of my property. I will be fully responsible for you from now on. I will provide for your children’s expenses. I will pay for your insurance. I will give you the money you need to survive. You are mine.”
I stared at him with shock. Tears formed in my eyes. And I thrust myself forward and hugged him for a very long time while he hugged me back.
And I looked into his eyes and told him I loved him and thanked him over and over.
This is my life now. Full time.
I’m a slave.
And I love it.
Today we registered for a coming Master/slave regional conference in Phoenix we’ll be attending in January. We’ll be flying out together and staying for four days. We went over the list of activities and classes that will be taught. It’s incredible.
The conference is called the Southwest Leather Conference. You can find out about it here. http://www.southwestleather.org/swlchome/index.php
Among other events there, he and I will both be taking part in something known as the “Dance of Souls.” Our skin will be pierced, then fishing line will be thread through to hold small bells onto our skin.
And we will dance a wild frenzy of ecstacy.
It sounds horrible. I remember when I was invited to see a Sun Dance on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation years ago and I saw somebody who was hanging from the ceiling with their weight suspended from hooks through their flesh. (At least, that’s what it looked like they were doing). I shuddered at the sight and never forgot it, thinking such was something I could never stand to do for any reason.
Now I’m going to be experiencing a version of it.
I expect it will be nothing short of a euphoria made from pain and pleasure combined. I was told by Master (who has done it before) that it is a spiritual experience beyond words.
Things are continuing to go wonderfully here. Oh, I’m making mistakes, of course. There’s so much to learn. Everything has its place and is done in a particular way.
And the house is so big. It took me almost two hours just to clean Master’s bathroom yesterday, and equally long to clean Mistress’s.
But Master is wonderfully collected about making sure I know what I’m doing wrong so I can learn from it.
M’Lady isn’t always so kind. Such as tonight, during dinner. I cooked Lime Shrimp with Pasta. And I overcooked the shrimp, and M’Lady said it was “awful.”
And she hated the chicken pot pie I made for her a couple of days ago, even though everybody else I’ve made it for has loved it. And she snaps at me if I ever leave a room without turning off the lights, or for eating with the bowl in my lap while I was on the couch instead of leaning forward uncomfortably to eat from the table. And so on.
But although M’Lady is a bit caustic at times, she’s still a wonderful, loving woman at heart, and I love serving her as well.
And she did like the sauce and the pasta tonight enough to have a large dose of seconds. Just without the shrimp. Which I thought were quite yummy (I thought the texture accented the pasta perfectly), but it’s not my opinion that counts, of course.
M’Lady is a notoriously picky eater, by the way. She’s quite picky about everything! But, hey, that’s part of my life now, and if she gets picky, then I just make sure I pay extra care to the details!
It’s not just M’Lady who corrects me, of course.
Saturday night at the Sanctuary BDSM club, Master decided it was time for us to go home, and he ordered me to get our coats and my purse. As I picked up my purse, I saw a hand puppet of a witch inside (I had put it there and forgot), and I took it out and started doing improv puppetry, playing up the old witch’s personalty to the hilt while interacting with the people around me to everybody’s merriment. Curious at hearing a burst of laughter coming from the coat room, Master walked in to see the witch puppet (with me controlling it) standing on the bald head of a different Master, then sliding off onto his shoulder while saying, “Hey! Did you just wax that thing?” In response, Master grabbed my ponytail and pulled me hard to the ground with a very disapproving glare, and we left very quickly.
Master today told me that although everybody was enjoying it, I got lucky because a lot of people at the club, particularly dominants would not have liked a slave mocking them, even with a puppet. Also, he said he had told me to get the coats so we could leave, and instead he found me playing with a puppet.
I’ve learned a lesson, and a quick one. And I won’t forget it. And he said that’s what’s important – not that I made the mistake, but that I don’t do it again.
Things are serious now. But it’s my life, and it’s perfect for me.
*sighs and looks outside at the piled up snow*
I was going to take my kids Trick or Treating tonight at a local high school’s pre-Halloween event. I’ve taken them every year since they were infants, and I really wanted to do it again this year, but they’re both going with friends Halloween night, and so tonight at this event was my one chance.
Unfortunately, a a blizzard hit and there’s currently about 20 inches of snow on the ground (more or less), and it was canceled.
It’s going to be weird not going with my kids Trick or Treating this year but ... they’re finally old enough to go with friends by themselves. *sighs* They’re only seven and 10, but they’re growing up, and that’s both happy and sad in different ways.
Sunday with them was great. We went to the zoo together and had a blast, and my daughter and I did her homework together for hours.
Knowing Master will be my benefactor gives me such great peace because I know I don’t have to worry anymore about the awful job market. I’ve found my place. And my kids will be cared for as needed.
And I’ll be able to help my ex by taking care of them while my ex is in school if needed.
I’ll be able to be there for them when they need me. *smiles*
Master was going to be gone, too. Tonight, he was going to assist with a discussion group at the Sanctuary BDSM club for new people into the lifestyle.
As a result, we curled up together and watched a special about werewolves on the History Channel.
So far, he hasn’t actually played with me yet (BDSM-wise, that is), despite the fact he repeatedly says he’s a sadist, and he has a whole basement full of toys (along with a decade of experience). He told me tonight I’m still on a “honeymoon.”
I’m so tempted to tell him I recently realized I’m a bit of a masochist. But ... would I be spoiling the true effect of having him only do it when I don’t want it by telling him? Hmmm ...
And on that note, I think I’ll post this, and go see if Master might want to ... talk ... about something on my mind.
*bites my lip nervously and grins*
La kajira!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Day 78 - On Being Loaned to Mistress, Lesbian Sex, Realizing I'm a Masochist, and An Awful Task Because of a Lost DVD,
Today was a long day. And I was bawling my eyes out at one point.
But, as they say, all’s well that end’s well. *grins and shrugs*
I’ve been at Mistress’s today, wearing her collar, on loan from Master. As part of the transition, I’m serving her every few days while my possessions remain at her house. After the move is complete, I’ll still probably serve her one day a week to maintain my connection with her.
I realized last night as I walked in the door to her home how much I had missed her. And how much I love her. Which is very much.
I love both Master and Mistress greatly, so the fact that I’m able to be with them both brings great happiness to my heart … and to theirs, from what I can tell.
Mistress got in a movie called “Desert Hearts” from Netflix today, and we watched it tonight (well, I saw the last part, as I was doing chores during much of it). It’s apparently one of the top 10 lesbian movies of all time. It was very well done, from what I saw. Mistress is bi-sexual, but in particular she’s lesbian, and she loves “lipstick lesbian” drama. At one point in the movie I was sitting on the couch leaning forward to watch the movie, and my shirt happened to be unbuttoned to just below my chest, and I noticed Mistress staring at me with a slight smile, and I asked her if anything was wrong, and in response she said, “You’ve got very nice breasts tonight, girl.” I asked her what was different, and she said apparently the combination of the way they were exposed and hanging, and the fact she was watching a hot lesbian sex scene at the time, got her rather horny and appreciate of the slave in her proximity. Pretty soon she was fondling my breasts (and pinching my nipples rather hard, to her pleasure), and not long after that I had my mouth between her legs, giving her oral sex until she buckled her crotch against my lips and came with a shudder and a rather loud groan. So … if you’re lesbian or just enjoy a good drama, you might want to check that movie out. *chuckles*
By the way, I’ve realized that I’m a bit of a masochist. Not a pain slut, but what’s called a “true masochist,” in that I get a thrill from being exposed to pain, bondage or other forceful situations that I don’t enjoy. For a painslut, they enjoy experiencing pain in and of itself. Me, I hate pain. I hate it when Mistress spanks me and pinches my nipples and slaps my ass and does things to piss me off. But … there is a thrill attached to such things because, as a slave, I’m not in control. And I enjoy the thrill, even though I don’t enjoy the pain.
I realized that Saturday night at the Sanctuary BDSM club when I was sitting at the feet of both Master and Mistress while they were talking, and at one point they both grabbed one of my two pigtails and pulled while Mistress jokingly said, “Make a wish!” It hurt! And yet … I loved it! And I said something teasingly to Mistress afterward, and in response she grabbed both of my tails, held my head a bit painfully to the couch, and wouldn’t let me go for a long time. I was having a blast, and both she and Master knew it … which means I may be in for more pain in the future than I ever expected.
Apparently there’s a word for somebody like me … a “Sammy” … which comes from “Smart Ass Masochist” (SAM). I have a tendency to playfully disobey and back talk my Owners just enough to pull out their sadism and get them happily disciplining me (usually with a paddle or appropriate pinch). I used to consider myself a brat, and I am, indeed, but brats tend to know how to stop just short of being punished (usually … *grins*) … and if they are punished, they feel it was worth it! A Sammy actually tries to push a bit further to get their Owner to actually punish them … but not seriously. If their Owner is actually upset, a Sammy went much too far. It’s all meant to be playful fun … although there’s a fine line to walk when you do it. And walking that fine line is a large part of the fun much of the time. *laughs*
Mistress obviously needs a slave, without a doubt. When I arrived last night, the house was, to be honest, a mess, and I’d only been gone a few days! The same clothes were in the washer and drier that were there when I’d left. The kitty litter box hadn’t been changed. The trash hadn’t been taken out. The kitchen counters were messy, the dishes needed to be washed, and there was a ton of laundry to do. So, needless to say, I was rather busy today.
Still, I might have largely been done a lot earlier than now (it’s rather late, and Mistress has already gone to bed), but … I spent somewhere between four and five hours on a really awful task. It’s the reason I was bawling today. Master had lent Mistress and me several DVDs last month before the move … and when I returned the cases to him last week, I found to my complete embarrassment that one of them was missing a DVD. Last night I looked in all the boxes in Mistress’s room with no luck, but we figured I’d find them quickly today. Wrong. I went through almost every box in the house and garage five times, then searched in the closets, then the drawers, then everywhere I could think of. What had happened was right before the move, Mistress had taken it out of the DVD player and put it with some other DVDs for storage … and she forgot where she put them. Finally success, but I was a bit shaken by the time it arrived. I had tried to call Mistress about my difficulties today, but she was out doing work for her Master, and she was away from the phone. I finally found them in the storage shed a little box that had been taped up securely as if it was old and Mistress didn’t want it ever opened here. Bleh. The worst part was that Mistress had no idea about what she did with the DVDs and blamed me for a while, making me feel even worse. But things are finally okay, so I can return the DVDs to Master tomorrow. Again, I say, “Bleh.”
I’ve got more to write, but I’m sleepy as heck, and so I’ll post this as it is and finish up tomorrow (assuming Master gives me time for it). Until then, keep the faith, and …
La kajira!!!
*bounces happily*
But, as they say, all’s well that end’s well. *grins and shrugs*
I’ve been at Mistress’s today, wearing her collar, on loan from Master. As part of the transition, I’m serving her every few days while my possessions remain at her house. After the move is complete, I’ll still probably serve her one day a week to maintain my connection with her.
I realized last night as I walked in the door to her home how much I had missed her. And how much I love her. Which is very much.
I love both Master and Mistress greatly, so the fact that I’m able to be with them both brings great happiness to my heart … and to theirs, from what I can tell.
Mistress got in a movie called “Desert Hearts” from Netflix today, and we watched it tonight (well, I saw the last part, as I was doing chores during much of it). It’s apparently one of the top 10 lesbian movies of all time. It was very well done, from what I saw. Mistress is bi-sexual, but in particular she’s lesbian, and she loves “lipstick lesbian” drama. At one point in the movie I was sitting on the couch leaning forward to watch the movie, and my shirt happened to be unbuttoned to just below my chest, and I noticed Mistress staring at me with a slight smile, and I asked her if anything was wrong, and in response she said, “You’ve got very nice breasts tonight, girl.” I asked her what was different, and she said apparently the combination of the way they were exposed and hanging, and the fact she was watching a hot lesbian sex scene at the time, got her rather horny and appreciate of the slave in her proximity. Pretty soon she was fondling my breasts (and pinching my nipples rather hard, to her pleasure), and not long after that I had my mouth between her legs, giving her oral sex until she buckled her crotch against my lips and came with a shudder and a rather loud groan. So … if you’re lesbian or just enjoy a good drama, you might want to check that movie out. *chuckles*
By the way, I’ve realized that I’m a bit of a masochist. Not a pain slut, but what’s called a “true masochist,” in that I get a thrill from being exposed to pain, bondage or other forceful situations that I don’t enjoy. For a painslut, they enjoy experiencing pain in and of itself. Me, I hate pain. I hate it when Mistress spanks me and pinches my nipples and slaps my ass and does things to piss me off. But … there is a thrill attached to such things because, as a slave, I’m not in control. And I enjoy the thrill, even though I don’t enjoy the pain.
I realized that Saturday night at the Sanctuary BDSM club when I was sitting at the feet of both Master and Mistress while they were talking, and at one point they both grabbed one of my two pigtails and pulled while Mistress jokingly said, “Make a wish!” It hurt! And yet … I loved it! And I said something teasingly to Mistress afterward, and in response she grabbed both of my tails, held my head a bit painfully to the couch, and wouldn’t let me go for a long time. I was having a blast, and both she and Master knew it … which means I may be in for more pain in the future than I ever expected.
Apparently there’s a word for somebody like me … a “Sammy” … which comes from “Smart Ass Masochist” (SAM). I have a tendency to playfully disobey and back talk my Owners just enough to pull out their sadism and get them happily disciplining me (usually with a paddle or appropriate pinch). I used to consider myself a brat, and I am, indeed, but brats tend to know how to stop just short of being punished (usually … *grins*) … and if they are punished, they feel it was worth it! A Sammy actually tries to push a bit further to get their Owner to actually punish them … but not seriously. If their Owner is actually upset, a Sammy went much too far. It’s all meant to be playful fun … although there’s a fine line to walk when you do it. And walking that fine line is a large part of the fun much of the time. *laughs*
Mistress obviously needs a slave, without a doubt. When I arrived last night, the house was, to be honest, a mess, and I’d only been gone a few days! The same clothes were in the washer and drier that were there when I’d left. The kitty litter box hadn’t been changed. The trash hadn’t been taken out. The kitchen counters were messy, the dishes needed to be washed, and there was a ton of laundry to do. So, needless to say, I was rather busy today.
Still, I might have largely been done a lot earlier than now (it’s rather late, and Mistress has already gone to bed), but … I spent somewhere between four and five hours on a really awful task. It’s the reason I was bawling today. Master had lent Mistress and me several DVDs last month before the move … and when I returned the cases to him last week, I found to my complete embarrassment that one of them was missing a DVD. Last night I looked in all the boxes in Mistress’s room with no luck, but we figured I’d find them quickly today. Wrong. I went through almost every box in the house and garage five times, then searched in the closets, then the drawers, then everywhere I could think of. What had happened was right before the move, Mistress had taken it out of the DVD player and put it with some other DVDs for storage … and she forgot where she put them. Finally success, but I was a bit shaken by the time it arrived. I had tried to call Mistress about my difficulties today, but she was out doing work for her Master, and she was away from the phone. I finally found them in the storage shed a little box that had been taped up securely as if it was old and Mistress didn’t want it ever opened here. Bleh. The worst part was that Mistress had no idea about what she did with the DVDs and blamed me for a while, making me feel even worse. But things are finally okay, so I can return the DVDs to Master tomorrow. Again, I say, “Bleh.”
I’ve got more to write, but I’m sleepy as heck, and so I’ll post this as it is and finish up tomorrow (assuming Master gives me time for it). Until then, keep the faith, and …
La kajira!!!
*bounces happily*
Friday, October 23, 2009
Day 75 - On My First Full Day as Master's Slave, On Reflecting On Why Mistress and I Didn't Work Out, On the Possibility of Being Master's Slave Forever, On Getting Electrocuted for Fun with a Violet Wand, On Winning First Place at the Steampunk Party, On My Daughter Being a Cat in a Human Body, and On Reading a Fantastic Online Comic Called SPQR Blues and Becoming Queen Guinereve's Virtual Slave in SecondLife
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Thursday, October 22, 2009
Day 74 - On Being Given by Mistress to Master G
Master G owns me now.
And everybody’s happy about it.
From now on, I’ll simply refer to him here as “Master.”
I’m at his house tonight, wearing his collar. It’s a beautiful metal band with a Celtic triskelion pendant … the symbol of his house.
The evening after my last posting, Mistress and I talked. I came downstairs crying about Master. He had written me and told me specifically that he did not want to see me because he cared for me so much and knew I cared for him, and he was afraid our desire for each other would blow up and hurt somebody, most likely Mistress.
I talked to Mistress about everything. I told her how I had been using Master as a confidant to vent about the things that were annoying me. I told her how stressed Master J had made me. I told her my feelings toward Master and his feelings toward me. We talked for a long time.
And then she wrote Master and asked for his views. And when he told her the same things, she scheduled a face-to-face meeting with him for the next night. I was not invited. It was to be about me, but I was not to be privy to what was said, Mistress told me.
As a slave, that was exactly how it should be.
Last night she returned from the meeting. She said they had both fully agreed that I was far better suited to be Master’s slave, largely because of the reasons I listed in my previous posting. She also said that Master and his wife are getting up in years, and they need help with household duties far more than Mistress does. And she said that Master could use me to my full potential as a true tool by accessing my skills as a copywriter, journalist and software programmer in ways that would enhance his business. (Master and his wife, by the way, own a successful online sex-toy business).
I thought that Mistress might actually sale me, but the main thing she got out of the agreement directly was an even stronger friendship both with Master and his wife (who I shall call M’Lady, at her request), and Mistress said that in itself was a wonderful gift.
They agreed to transition the transfer gradually, with me spending a few nights at Master’s home, then back at Mistress’s, slowly increasing my time at my new abode.
It’s worked out best for everybody, I feel, although I can tell Mistress is a little sad. The good thing is that Master has said he’ll loan me to her on a regular basis, likely one day a week, and I’ll housesit for her when she’s away. So we won’t be strangers.
*smiles*
Funny how things turn out sometimes, y’know?
I still have more to write, but Master wishes me to go to bed with him, and I need to sign off and post this.
La kajira!!!
And everybody’s happy about it.
From now on, I’ll simply refer to him here as “Master.”
I’m at his house tonight, wearing his collar. It’s a beautiful metal band with a Celtic triskelion pendant … the symbol of his house.
The evening after my last posting, Mistress and I talked. I came downstairs crying about Master. He had written me and told me specifically that he did not want to see me because he cared for me so much and knew I cared for him, and he was afraid our desire for each other would blow up and hurt somebody, most likely Mistress.
I talked to Mistress about everything. I told her how I had been using Master as a confidant to vent about the things that were annoying me. I told her how stressed Master J had made me. I told her my feelings toward Master and his feelings toward me. We talked for a long time.
And then she wrote Master and asked for his views. And when he told her the same things, she scheduled a face-to-face meeting with him for the next night. I was not invited. It was to be about me, but I was not to be privy to what was said, Mistress told me.
As a slave, that was exactly how it should be.
Last night she returned from the meeting. She said they had both fully agreed that I was far better suited to be Master’s slave, largely because of the reasons I listed in my previous posting. She also said that Master and his wife are getting up in years, and they need help with household duties far more than Mistress does. And she said that Master could use me to my full potential as a true tool by accessing my skills as a copywriter, journalist and software programmer in ways that would enhance his business. (Master and his wife, by the way, own a successful online sex-toy business).
I thought that Mistress might actually sale me, but the main thing she got out of the agreement directly was an even stronger friendship both with Master and his wife (who I shall call M’Lady, at her request), and Mistress said that in itself was a wonderful gift.
They agreed to transition the transfer gradually, with me spending a few nights at Master’s home, then back at Mistress’s, slowly increasing my time at my new abode.
It’s worked out best for everybody, I feel, although I can tell Mistress is a little sad. The good thing is that Master has said he’ll loan me to her on a regular basis, likely one day a week, and I’ll housesit for her when she’s away. So we won’t be strangers.
*smiles*
Funny how things turn out sometimes, y’know?
I still have more to write, but Master wishes me to go to bed with him, and I need to sign off and post this.
La kajira!!!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Day 72 - On Being Fucked By the Biggest Prick I've Ever Encountered, Getting Angry With Mistress, and Letting My Emotions and Big Mouth Possibly Fuck Up My Relationships with Both Mistress and Master G
Right now I’m rather pissed at my Owner. I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, but I expect things are going to fall apart and that I’ll be owned by Master G.
The problem is money. Well, there are a lot of problems. Mistress and I have a relationship that’s built around slavery … and not much else. We’re friends and occasional lovers, and I was a bit infatuated with her at first. Okay, I loved her, and I still do, but it was never intense or knock-your-socks-off love. It was just the love of two friends, one of which felt protective toward the other one and decided to collar her.
Master G wants me to live with him full time and take care of me completely. Room and board fully paid for. I would be his full-time servant in all ways.
He’s charming and eloquent and wise and refined, and he loves talking about literature and old movies and the like.
Mistress gets on chat rooms about sex and watches porn all day. Well, she also occasionally works part time for her Master doing maintenance work on his rental properties.
Mistress said she’s good friends with Master G, but she could never have Master G as her Owner. Mistress told me today she very clearly prefers “bad boys who reformed.” Her Master is a former member of the Pagans, the most notorious outlaw biker gang in the country. The lover who visited us this weekend, Master J, is a former member of the Widow’s Sons outlaw biker gang. All Mistress’s Master and Master J like to do around her, it seems, is have sex, sex and more sex.
Master G and I get along perfectly in almost every way.
My unemployment runs out in a month. Mistress said she’ll cover the costs for a little while, but she’ll expect me to get some type of job, even if it’s something awful like working the graveyard shift at a convenience store 40 hours a week. She pulled rank on me today and said, as my Owner, she can demand I do that kind of thing because, as her slave, I can make her do any work she desires, and she can keep my money and do with it as she wants.
She knows Master G wants me, but she doesn’t want to give me up. She said she likes me being around as a friend, and she likes me doing all the chores and being her servant. But she also treats me like a roommate, in that I have to pay rent and pay for my share of utilities and household costs.
She wants me to both be a slave in the ways it benefits her, and be a free person in the ways it benefits her.
She’s exploiting me.
And, as a slave, I’m not sure what to do ... yet.
I could just leave and go to Master G’s house. Master G would like me to do that, I’m sure, but he’s moral enough that he doesn’t want to destroy his friendship with Mistress.
The truth is, I want to be at Master G’s house more than at Mistress’s house in a lot of ways. It would benefit Master G, his wife, and me in so many ways that wouldn’t be possible if I remained with Mistress.
I love Mistress. But I love Master G very much, too.
Today Mistress threatened to bar me from going to Master G’s house this week as punishment if needed for any offenses I might have around the house.
I’m a slave. It’s very, very serious to me.
But it is consensual.
Something’s got to give, and soon.
*sighs*
Oh … wasn’t this post today supposed to be about the guy with the gigantic cock? Yep, that’s Master J. He arrived Saturday morning and left for the airport to return to Texas a couple of hours ago.
Maybe I’m pissy regarding Mistress today because I really didn’t like Master J much at all, and Mistress is madly in love with him, practically worshiping the ground he walks on.
I was a journalist for nearly 10 years. I learned to read facial expressions and tone of voice.
Master J reeked with fake sincerity practically every time he opened his mouth. It got to where I could hardly stand to be around him, and I practically recoiled from his touch.
And those touches were frequent, indeed, starting with the French kiss he gave me within a minute of our meeting. The smell and taste of his recently smoked cigar was strong on his tongue and never went away throughout his stay.
Saturday, the day of his arrival, I was the best slave I could be. And, to impress Master J, Mistress made sure I followed his every order.
And pretty much all of those orders had to do with sex. He was incredibly horny and remained that way all the time he was here. Or maybe, because of his biker days, he’s just used to automatically treating women like fuck toys. Well, I am a slave, and if being a fuck toy is my duty, then so be it. The thing is, Master J isn’t in the BDSM lifestyle. He’s not used to having a slave … yet he sure got used quickly to taking advantage of pretty much every orifice in my body without asking me any permission.
Monday night we talked about his days as a biker, and he said pretty much all of his women while he was in the gang were treated like his property in every way. Or, as Mistress said, if you removed the crime and drugs and bikes, his relationship with his women was like Mistress’s relationship with me. Master and slave. So he’s actually pretty used to the idea in a lot of ways.
One of his favorite phrases is, “Thank God for the statute of limitations!” He openly admits to having committed numerous crimes while a biker (hence, the “outlaw” aspect), but he said he never raped anybody, and he never beat his women.
Anyway, so Saturday was filled with lots of sex for me. Almost as soon as I had taken Master J’s suitcases into the house, I was down on my knees sucking his cock.
Oh, yeah … his cock. Err … how to describe it? A horse would be appropriate. Almost two and a half inches in diameter, which equates to more than seven inches in circumference. It was a chore to fit it in my mouth, I’ll say that, but I did until he was satisfied.
Then I had to give him a full-body sponge bath in Mistress’s tub. I remained as elegant as I could, making sure the water was the perfectly heated temperature, with bath salts and perfume and oils. And then, once he was seated inside, I took several clean cloths and proceeded to work my way around his body slowly, soaping up the cloths with the best ingredients as needed, until he was completely scrubbed and cleaned in every way.
Soon afterward, he groped and suckled my body, moving from my face to my breasts while his fingers fucked my vagina and played with my clit. That could have really turned me on except … he had no style, no grace, no form. It was all just being fucked for his satisfaction. But, being a slave, I exist to please, so I made sure never to show anything but a smile and say anything but a groan of pleasure for him.
Throughout the time he was here, he would repeatedly do that again, more or less. He never failed to take the opportunity when we were passing each other to stop and grope something of me or to stick his tongue somewhere in or on me. What was exciting at first soon became rather … annoying.
Oh, and, yes, he did mount me from above. And it hurt, I have to say. I’ve never taken a cock that large inside me, and despite working to try and stretch my vagina with a dildo, he still couldn’t fit more than half of it inside me. He said he enjoyed fucking me even then, however, although he didn’t cum inside me. Which I’m glad to know because of the fact he used to be a biker. And he admitted after sex that he used to have the clap, but he got it treated and cured years ago. Which I didn’t know, but I trusted Mistress, and so I let him inside me without a condom.
Which is part of why I’m annoyed at Mistress right now. *sighs*
During Master J’s stay, I had to sleep on a bare mattress upstairs, and I actually slept pretty darn well. I was woken up by Master J Monday morning and he, horny as usual, announced he would wake me up by eating my pussy. Which he did for about ten or fifteen minutes. And I screamed hard and loud eventually. But not from orgasming. Instead, it was because he was such a brute that he hurt the hell out of my clitoris and labial lips. He kept biting and scraping them with his teeth, and his tongue was so rough and hard and too fast, and he clearly had no concern for whether I liked it or not as long as I was making the motions like a cheap slut in a porno movie.
Later in the day on Monday, Mistress’s Master came over, and the three of them were having sex for hours in the living room while watching porn showing women being beaten and tortured. Yes, it was all for show. It was real BDSM, and not some disgusting movie where it seemed like the women were doing it against their will. But … the fact that Mistress’s Master and Master J both got their kicks from watching women screaming for mercy while getting whipped and flogged really disturbed me. And I hate to say it, because I have no moral problem with gay sex, but I don’t enjoy watching two men going at it with each other by sticking their cocks in each other – which is what Mistress’s Master and Master J were doing to each other.
So, while they were doing all that, I cleaned house like crazy … which actually impressed the hell out of Master J and Mistress’s Master, who saw me as a perfect little slave for doing that. By the end of the day, I had done so much laundry and so much packing and so much cleaning that I was dog tired, and we went to a Violet Wand demonstration with Master G for a treat. But I’ll write about that in my next posting.
*sighs*
Master J, at least, wasn’t cheap. He left Mistress $140 on her bedstand after sleeping with her last night. Mistress said she told him she wanted it clear that she wasn’t taking money for being with him, but that she was considering the cash to be an early birthday present.
Mistress is sad to see Master J gone. She would live with him if she had the chance, she’s said.
I’m not sad to see him go.
To make matters much worse, my stress at having him here came out when I was writing Master G this week.
Remember what I said about how I thought Master G would own me eventually? Well, since writing that, he's written me.
Now he thinks he’s coming between Mistress and me, and he’s told me not to come over to his house to be his slave this week. And not come over possibly indefinitely.
I’ve cried so much about that. I feel horrible in so many ways.
I think my big mouth is fucking up everything important in my life.
I love Mistress. And I love Master G.
And I need to be a slave to them.
I told Mistress everything to make sure nothing was in the dark. I told her how strongly I feel about Master G. And how much I love him.
And she says she's okay with that.
But she's still annoyed at me because of some of the things we've talked about today.
Today sucks. In a lot of ways.
Mistress said she's going to talk to Master G tomorrow to try and sort things out.
Master G would be perfect for me. But I may have ruined everything.
*sighs*
La kajira. And all that.
The problem is money. Well, there are a lot of problems. Mistress and I have a relationship that’s built around slavery … and not much else. We’re friends and occasional lovers, and I was a bit infatuated with her at first. Okay, I loved her, and I still do, but it was never intense or knock-your-socks-off love. It was just the love of two friends, one of which felt protective toward the other one and decided to collar her.
Master G wants me to live with him full time and take care of me completely. Room and board fully paid for. I would be his full-time servant in all ways.
He’s charming and eloquent and wise and refined, and he loves talking about literature and old movies and the like.
Mistress gets on chat rooms about sex and watches porn all day. Well, she also occasionally works part time for her Master doing maintenance work on his rental properties.
Mistress said she’s good friends with Master G, but she could never have Master G as her Owner. Mistress told me today she very clearly prefers “bad boys who reformed.” Her Master is a former member of the Pagans, the most notorious outlaw biker gang in the country. The lover who visited us this weekend, Master J, is a former member of the Widow’s Sons outlaw biker gang. All Mistress’s Master and Master J like to do around her, it seems, is have sex, sex and more sex.
Master G and I get along perfectly in almost every way.
My unemployment runs out in a month. Mistress said she’ll cover the costs for a little while, but she’ll expect me to get some type of job, even if it’s something awful like working the graveyard shift at a convenience store 40 hours a week. She pulled rank on me today and said, as my Owner, she can demand I do that kind of thing because, as her slave, I can make her do any work she desires, and she can keep my money and do with it as she wants.
She knows Master G wants me, but she doesn’t want to give me up. She said she likes me being around as a friend, and she likes me doing all the chores and being her servant. But she also treats me like a roommate, in that I have to pay rent and pay for my share of utilities and household costs.
She wants me to both be a slave in the ways it benefits her, and be a free person in the ways it benefits her.
She’s exploiting me.
And, as a slave, I’m not sure what to do ... yet.
I could just leave and go to Master G’s house. Master G would like me to do that, I’m sure, but he’s moral enough that he doesn’t want to destroy his friendship with Mistress.
The truth is, I want to be at Master G’s house more than at Mistress’s house in a lot of ways. It would benefit Master G, his wife, and me in so many ways that wouldn’t be possible if I remained with Mistress.
I love Mistress. But I love Master G very much, too.
Today Mistress threatened to bar me from going to Master G’s house this week as punishment if needed for any offenses I might have around the house.
I’m a slave. It’s very, very serious to me.
But it is consensual.
Something’s got to give, and soon.
*sighs*
Oh … wasn’t this post today supposed to be about the guy with the gigantic cock? Yep, that’s Master J. He arrived Saturday morning and left for the airport to return to Texas a couple of hours ago.
Maybe I’m pissy regarding Mistress today because I really didn’t like Master J much at all, and Mistress is madly in love with him, practically worshiping the ground he walks on.
I was a journalist for nearly 10 years. I learned to read facial expressions and tone of voice.
Master J reeked with fake sincerity practically every time he opened his mouth. It got to where I could hardly stand to be around him, and I practically recoiled from his touch.
And those touches were frequent, indeed, starting with the French kiss he gave me within a minute of our meeting. The smell and taste of his recently smoked cigar was strong on his tongue and never went away throughout his stay.
Saturday, the day of his arrival, I was the best slave I could be. And, to impress Master J, Mistress made sure I followed his every order.
And pretty much all of those orders had to do with sex. He was incredibly horny and remained that way all the time he was here. Or maybe, because of his biker days, he’s just used to automatically treating women like fuck toys. Well, I am a slave, and if being a fuck toy is my duty, then so be it. The thing is, Master J isn’t in the BDSM lifestyle. He’s not used to having a slave … yet he sure got used quickly to taking advantage of pretty much every orifice in my body without asking me any permission.
Monday night we talked about his days as a biker, and he said pretty much all of his women while he was in the gang were treated like his property in every way. Or, as Mistress said, if you removed the crime and drugs and bikes, his relationship with his women was like Mistress’s relationship with me. Master and slave. So he’s actually pretty used to the idea in a lot of ways.
One of his favorite phrases is, “Thank God for the statute of limitations!” He openly admits to having committed numerous crimes while a biker (hence, the “outlaw” aspect), but he said he never raped anybody, and he never beat his women.
Anyway, so Saturday was filled with lots of sex for me. Almost as soon as I had taken Master J’s suitcases into the house, I was down on my knees sucking his cock.
Oh, yeah … his cock. Err … how to describe it? A horse would be appropriate. Almost two and a half inches in diameter, which equates to more than seven inches in circumference. It was a chore to fit it in my mouth, I’ll say that, but I did until he was satisfied.
Then I had to give him a full-body sponge bath in Mistress’s tub. I remained as elegant as I could, making sure the water was the perfectly heated temperature, with bath salts and perfume and oils. And then, once he was seated inside, I took several clean cloths and proceeded to work my way around his body slowly, soaping up the cloths with the best ingredients as needed, until he was completely scrubbed and cleaned in every way.
Soon afterward, he groped and suckled my body, moving from my face to my breasts while his fingers fucked my vagina and played with my clit. That could have really turned me on except … he had no style, no grace, no form. It was all just being fucked for his satisfaction. But, being a slave, I exist to please, so I made sure never to show anything but a smile and say anything but a groan of pleasure for him.
Throughout the time he was here, he would repeatedly do that again, more or less. He never failed to take the opportunity when we were passing each other to stop and grope something of me or to stick his tongue somewhere in or on me. What was exciting at first soon became rather … annoying.
Oh, and, yes, he did mount me from above. And it hurt, I have to say. I’ve never taken a cock that large inside me, and despite working to try and stretch my vagina with a dildo, he still couldn’t fit more than half of it inside me. He said he enjoyed fucking me even then, however, although he didn’t cum inside me. Which I’m glad to know because of the fact he used to be a biker. And he admitted after sex that he used to have the clap, but he got it treated and cured years ago. Which I didn’t know, but I trusted Mistress, and so I let him inside me without a condom.
Which is part of why I’m annoyed at Mistress right now. *sighs*
During Master J’s stay, I had to sleep on a bare mattress upstairs, and I actually slept pretty darn well. I was woken up by Master J Monday morning and he, horny as usual, announced he would wake me up by eating my pussy. Which he did for about ten or fifteen minutes. And I screamed hard and loud eventually. But not from orgasming. Instead, it was because he was such a brute that he hurt the hell out of my clitoris and labial lips. He kept biting and scraping them with his teeth, and his tongue was so rough and hard and too fast, and he clearly had no concern for whether I liked it or not as long as I was making the motions like a cheap slut in a porno movie.
Later in the day on Monday, Mistress’s Master came over, and the three of them were having sex for hours in the living room while watching porn showing women being beaten and tortured. Yes, it was all for show. It was real BDSM, and not some disgusting movie where it seemed like the women were doing it against their will. But … the fact that Mistress’s Master and Master J both got their kicks from watching women screaming for mercy while getting whipped and flogged really disturbed me. And I hate to say it, because I have no moral problem with gay sex, but I don’t enjoy watching two men going at it with each other by sticking their cocks in each other – which is what Mistress’s Master and Master J were doing to each other.
So, while they were doing all that, I cleaned house like crazy … which actually impressed the hell out of Master J and Mistress’s Master, who saw me as a perfect little slave for doing that. By the end of the day, I had done so much laundry and so much packing and so much cleaning that I was dog tired, and we went to a Violet Wand demonstration with Master G for a treat. But I’ll write about that in my next posting.
*sighs*
Master J, at least, wasn’t cheap. He left Mistress $140 on her bedstand after sleeping with her last night. Mistress said she told him she wanted it clear that she wasn’t taking money for being with him, but that she was considering the cash to be an early birthday present.
Mistress is sad to see Master J gone. She would live with him if she had the chance, she’s said.
I’m not sad to see him go.
To make matters much worse, my stress at having him here came out when I was writing Master G this week.
Remember what I said about how I thought Master G would own me eventually? Well, since writing that, he's written me.
Now he thinks he’s coming between Mistress and me, and he’s told me not to come over to his house to be his slave this week. And not come over possibly indefinitely.
I’ve cried so much about that. I feel horrible in so many ways.
I think my big mouth is fucking up everything important in my life.
I love Mistress. And I love Master G.
And I need to be a slave to them.
I told Mistress everything to make sure nothing was in the dark. I told her how strongly I feel about Master G. And how much I love him.
And she says she's okay with that.
But she's still annoyed at me because of some of the things we've talked about today.
Today sucks. In a lot of ways.
Mistress said she's going to talk to Master G tomorrow to try and sort things out.
Master G would be perfect for me. But I may have ruined everything.
*sighs*
La kajira. And all that.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Day 71 - On Being Really Depressed and Having to Take Mood-Altering Drugs, On Not Being Hired (Yet Again), On Leaving Things Behind, and On Fun With the Kids
(As I mention at the end of this post, tomorrow's entry will have lots of sex with the man with the biggest cock I've ever seen. Seriously. But first ...)
Tired.
That’s the word to describe me right now. It’s been a long week full of high ups and a few rather low downs.
Where do I start? Right now, I’m waiting for my mood-altering drugs to kick in. Valproic acid is what I’m on. It’s for treating symptoms of bi-polar disorder, and it’s been great and getting me out of my depression. The problem is … it’s sometimes easy to forget that I’m reliant on a drug to keep me sane. I’m supposed to take it several times during the day and before I go to bed at night, and I didn’t take it today (I forgot) and … I’m feeling extremely depressed right now. I feel like an ugly bitch who should be removed from the gene pool. I actually seriously considered doing that several times last year during my year of darkness, during which I sank to the most horrible depths of depression. It may sound amazing, but nobody realized that I was bi-polar until this year, and even then it wasn't until recently that my psychiatrist figured out the right strength of the right drug to prescribe me. The only reason I’m alive today is because of my children. And even when I thought of them during my time of depression, I sometimes thought they would be better off without me. I once finally had enough, and I was about to drive to the mountains and throw myself off a cliff. I even knew the exact place I’d go. Beautiful and picturesque with a half-mile drop-off straight down. But I wanted to say goodbye to my kids. And when I went to their home, they weren’t there. Turns out they were at a doctor’s appointment with my ex, and then they went to my ex’s parents for dinner, and when I tried to call my ex didn’t pick up the phone. And by the time they got home I had changed my mind.
People tell me I’m beautiful, but I know they’re lying. If you look at me from the right angle, I’m pretty, I guess. But I have an incredibly thick neck and heavy jowls, and my face is flat and my nose is wide. And my body is squat and big-boned. I look like a cavewoman. *sighs and shrugs* Or maybe I’m being bigoted and prejudiced without knowing it. By some accounts, I would fit in wonderfully among Mongoloid people, and if I lived among the Inuit (Eskimos), I might be considered a true gem. I really don’t know anything about my ancestors beyond my grandparents, particularly on my Mother’s side, and she had quite a few features that looked rather non-Caucasian. So who knows? I hate the way our culture tells us what’s beautiful and what’s not, and in America if you don’t look like a North Western European young beauty queen, then you aren’t worth shit as a woman. But I’ve been fed that crap since I was a baby and I’ve been hypnotized into believing it, and it affects how I feel about myself. *sighs again*
Hmm. My pills must be taking effect, because I just looked in the mirror, and I don’t think I look mind-bogglingly ugly. I actually look a little appealing, in a Russian-weight-lifter-woman kind of way.
Having your brain’s chemicals shift on you in the middle of your life really sucks, I’ll say. Before I go any further, however, I want to make one thing clear – my desiring to be a slave doesn’t have to do with that. Or, if it does, it means my brain’s chemicals have been slowly shifting for a long time. As (I think) I mentioned in an earlier blog, I first realized I have a slave heart and wanted to be a slave full time about three and a half years ago, soon after discovering Gor online in SecondLife and finding out that people practice that lifestyle for real. My chemical shift (which happened spring of last year), however, possibly crystallized that feeling and got me to where I truly need an Owner to survive in the world. Somebody to take responsibility for me while allowing me to spend my life serving their needs and obeying their commands. Am I running away from the world? No, running away was what I did when I was on SecondLife 18-hours-a-day last year. Now I’m just embracing something different that fits the new me. The woman who used to be able to have a career, and now wants nothing more than to just do what she’s told. Okay, I was never good at holding down a career, I’ll tell you that. Everything I am today was in me from my childhood in so many ways. But now it’s firmly at the surface, shaping my life completely. I’m simple in a lot of ways. Even childlike. I long to be a little girl at my parent’s home again. Okay, maybe I am wanting to run away from my old life and responsibilities. But maybe that’s because I simply can’t mentally handle my old life and responsibilities anymore. Is that necessarily bad? I don’t think so, especially if I somehow find happiness out of it and make the world, through my service, a better place – even if just for a few people.
Okay, time to hit the week’s events. I didn’t write at all for several days because nothing much slave related was happening. I had an interview at a software company last Wednesday, and I thought it was the best interview I’ve had since I got laid off a year and a half ago. I thought they loved me there. The next day they wrote me back and told me they didn’t like me and didn’t say why. *sighs* Wednesday night I went to a networking event with a direct-marketing association to try and drum up business for my copywriting services. A lot of people there were extremely nice and one person even told me he wanted me to ghost write a book about fitness for his company. Nothing’s come of any of it yet. They guy who said he wanted to hire me wrote me today and said a customer of his agreed to do the job, for what I expect will be a ton of credit in company merchandise. *rolls her eyes*
Thursday afternoon Mistress and I made a final trip to the old house for some last-minute stuff. I’m incredibly puzzled because she’s nonchalantly leaving some important expensive items, such as her former step-son’s gun cabinet, which I’m assuming is full of rifles (I’ve never seen inside it). I went back on my own Friday late afternoon (with Mistress’s permission. Well, she told me she didn’t care if I went) to get some of her things, but after looking around I came back and told Mistress I decided not to get anything she had left behind because it wasn’t my place as a slave to try to impose on her anything she doesn’t want to have in her life anymore … and she said I was totally right, and we haven’t spoken of the topic since.
Friday morning I spent with my kids and had a fantastic time. Pancakes from scratch, playing in the backyard, playing on dinosaurs at the mall, building sandcastles in a giant sandbox, playing chess against my son (and losing rather quickly! *grins*), and overall having a great day.
And that leads to … Saturday, which was the arrival of one of Mistress’s dearest friends and deepest loves, a man I’ll call Master J. And since that was the beginning of one of the most sex-intensive and slave-dedicated days I’ve ever had, I’ll stop here and write that separately tomorrow in a posting all about what’s happened during his time here.
Until then, toodles!
And, always, la kajira!!!
*bounces happily*
p.s. Okay, the mood-controlling drugs are in full effect, it seems. I just looked in the mirror and, although I know I’m not gorgeous, I’m actually starting to think I look sort of cute for a middle-aged woman. And maybe even … sort of… sexy. *chuckles merrily*
Tired.
That’s the word to describe me right now. It’s been a long week full of high ups and a few rather low downs.
Where do I start? Right now, I’m waiting for my mood-altering drugs to kick in. Valproic acid is what I’m on. It’s for treating symptoms of bi-polar disorder, and it’s been great and getting me out of my depression. The problem is … it’s sometimes easy to forget that I’m reliant on a drug to keep me sane. I’m supposed to take it several times during the day and before I go to bed at night, and I didn’t take it today (I forgot) and … I’m feeling extremely depressed right now. I feel like an ugly bitch who should be removed from the gene pool. I actually seriously considered doing that several times last year during my year of darkness, during which I sank to the most horrible depths of depression. It may sound amazing, but nobody realized that I was bi-polar until this year, and even then it wasn't until recently that my psychiatrist figured out the right strength of the right drug to prescribe me. The only reason I’m alive today is because of my children. And even when I thought of them during my time of depression, I sometimes thought they would be better off without me. I once finally had enough, and I was about to drive to the mountains and throw myself off a cliff. I even knew the exact place I’d go. Beautiful and picturesque with a half-mile drop-off straight down. But I wanted to say goodbye to my kids. And when I went to their home, they weren’t there. Turns out they were at a doctor’s appointment with my ex, and then they went to my ex’s parents for dinner, and when I tried to call my ex didn’t pick up the phone. And by the time they got home I had changed my mind.
People tell me I’m beautiful, but I know they’re lying. If you look at me from the right angle, I’m pretty, I guess. But I have an incredibly thick neck and heavy jowls, and my face is flat and my nose is wide. And my body is squat and big-boned. I look like a cavewoman. *sighs and shrugs* Or maybe I’m being bigoted and prejudiced without knowing it. By some accounts, I would fit in wonderfully among Mongoloid people, and if I lived among the Inuit (Eskimos), I might be considered a true gem. I really don’t know anything about my ancestors beyond my grandparents, particularly on my Mother’s side, and she had quite a few features that looked rather non-Caucasian. So who knows? I hate the way our culture tells us what’s beautiful and what’s not, and in America if you don’t look like a North Western European young beauty queen, then you aren’t worth shit as a woman. But I’ve been fed that crap since I was a baby and I’ve been hypnotized into believing it, and it affects how I feel about myself. *sighs again*
Hmm. My pills must be taking effect, because I just looked in the mirror, and I don’t think I look mind-bogglingly ugly. I actually look a little appealing, in a Russian-weight-lifter-woman kind of way.
Having your brain’s chemicals shift on you in the middle of your life really sucks, I’ll say. Before I go any further, however, I want to make one thing clear – my desiring to be a slave doesn’t have to do with that. Or, if it does, it means my brain’s chemicals have been slowly shifting for a long time. As (I think) I mentioned in an earlier blog, I first realized I have a slave heart and wanted to be a slave full time about three and a half years ago, soon after discovering Gor online in SecondLife and finding out that people practice that lifestyle for real. My chemical shift (which happened spring of last year), however, possibly crystallized that feeling and got me to where I truly need an Owner to survive in the world. Somebody to take responsibility for me while allowing me to spend my life serving their needs and obeying their commands. Am I running away from the world? No, running away was what I did when I was on SecondLife 18-hours-a-day last year. Now I’m just embracing something different that fits the new me. The woman who used to be able to have a career, and now wants nothing more than to just do what she’s told. Okay, I was never good at holding down a career, I’ll tell you that. Everything I am today was in me from my childhood in so many ways. But now it’s firmly at the surface, shaping my life completely. I’m simple in a lot of ways. Even childlike. I long to be a little girl at my parent’s home again. Okay, maybe I am wanting to run away from my old life and responsibilities. But maybe that’s because I simply can’t mentally handle my old life and responsibilities anymore. Is that necessarily bad? I don’t think so, especially if I somehow find happiness out of it and make the world, through my service, a better place – even if just for a few people.
Okay, time to hit the week’s events. I didn’t write at all for several days because nothing much slave related was happening. I had an interview at a software company last Wednesday, and I thought it was the best interview I’ve had since I got laid off a year and a half ago. I thought they loved me there. The next day they wrote me back and told me they didn’t like me and didn’t say why. *sighs* Wednesday night I went to a networking event with a direct-marketing association to try and drum up business for my copywriting services. A lot of people there were extremely nice and one person even told me he wanted me to ghost write a book about fitness for his company. Nothing’s come of any of it yet. They guy who said he wanted to hire me wrote me today and said a customer of his agreed to do the job, for what I expect will be a ton of credit in company merchandise. *rolls her eyes*
Thursday afternoon Mistress and I made a final trip to the old house for some last-minute stuff. I’m incredibly puzzled because she’s nonchalantly leaving some important expensive items, such as her former step-son’s gun cabinet, which I’m assuming is full of rifles (I’ve never seen inside it). I went back on my own Friday late afternoon (with Mistress’s permission. Well, she told me she didn’t care if I went) to get some of her things, but after looking around I came back and told Mistress I decided not to get anything she had left behind because it wasn’t my place as a slave to try to impose on her anything she doesn’t want to have in her life anymore … and she said I was totally right, and we haven’t spoken of the topic since.
Friday morning I spent with my kids and had a fantastic time. Pancakes from scratch, playing in the backyard, playing on dinosaurs at the mall, building sandcastles in a giant sandbox, playing chess against my son (and losing rather quickly! *grins*), and overall having a great day.
And that leads to … Saturday, which was the arrival of one of Mistress’s dearest friends and deepest loves, a man I’ll call Master J. And since that was the beginning of one of the most sex-intensive and slave-dedicated days I’ve ever had, I’ll stop here and write that separately tomorrow in a posting all about what’s happened during his time here.
Until then, toodles!
And, always, la kajira!!!
*bounces happily*
p.s. Okay, the mood-controlling drugs are in full effect, it seems. I just looked in the mirror and, although I know I’m not gorgeous, I’m actually starting to think I look sort of cute for a middle-aged woman. And maybe even … sort of… sexy. *chuckles merrily*
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Day 65 - On Making Tender Love to Master G, and Being Desired by Two Owners, and Deciding to Be a Metal Wild West Gunfighting Girl, and Realizing My Impending Financial Doom May Not Be That Bad a Thing
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Saturday, October 10, 2009
Day 62 - On Mistress Becoming Serious About Owning Me, and Us Having a Nasty Verbal Fight, and Mistress Wanting to Write Us a Contract and Maybe Have Me Wear a Ring of Commitment, and Serving Master G Several Nights a Week
The last couple of days have been somewhat low key regarding my life with my Mistress, and yet I get a feeling things have turned a very important corner.
As mentioned in my previous posting, I wound up staying home the night before last by surprise, and Mistress took the occasion to take me out to dinner at Red Robin. Mistress decided afterward it wasn’t exactly a place we’ll be going back. Service was lousy. Lipstick was on my Mistress’s tea cup, and the Manager just laughed about it (he did try to make a little joke about the situation, but he still charged her for the tea). *shrugs* We still had fun, and it was a nice little outing.
Afterward, Mistress told me to contact Master G to discuss plans for me to serve him and his wife on a regular schedule … as in, two or three nights every week. Mistress feels that Master G and his wife could really use the help, and Mistress really likes Master G, and Master G could teach me some wonderful things he’s picked up during his decade in the lifestyle, and Mistress said she wants privacy at times (such as when her Master is over or when she’s with an intimate date), and said she sometimes actually likes being independent and handling things (such as cooking for herself) without a slave around. As glad as I am to be able to be with Master G and his wife so much, it concerned me that Mistress so quickly and casually decided to have Master G share in my Ownership so much, and I pondered such things as I headed to bed.
Along with doing the normal chores, I spent yesterday morning shopping with Mistress before heading out to be with my kids. Last night after I came home I was pretty happy but also pretty darn tired as well … more tired than a realized, which caused a quite unfortunate situation to erupt.
The puppyboy was there when I came home. He’s been suspended from his job, it seems, because he had at his workplace a sexually explicit catalog, which he gave to a friend, and the catalog was found in his friend’s desk, and things got traced back. The puppyboy was feeling rather unhappy about the whole thing, and I tried to cheer him up until he told me he was feeling rather depressed and suicidal, and for some reason that ticked me off. After my spending a year being incredibly depressed and suicidal, and my not having a job for a year and a half, for him to tell me he desperately needed to see a psychiatrist after being suspended for two days … just plain annoyed me.
And so I went to the kitchen to get a soda while he and Mistress talked, and I managed to knock over a glass of tea I had put in the fridge, causing it to spill over everything in the bottom part of the fridge and onto the floor, getting in the cracks and under the glass and into the veggie drawers and … I got pissed, way over the top. I started tossing things out of the fridge and swearing and making noise until I, very loudly, finished cleaning up everything. By then, the puppyboy had made his exit, and I went to Mistress, who (rightfully so) was extremely annoyed at me for making such a scene.
To be honest, I’m not sure why I exploded like I did except that I had some pent up stress and tiredness, and puppyboy acting like he did sort of lit a fuse. Oh, and the fact that I had done the same stupid thing a few nights earlier, causing coffee to spill all over everything. Oh, and the fact the kitchen was a total mess, with piles of dirty pots and pans and bowls and utensils everywhere, the signs of Mistress having made batches of chocolate-chip cookies while I was gone, and it was of course my job to clean it all up. And add to that the fact that the television was playing rather loudly in the background. My Asperger’s was in full gear last night, making it so the sounds of the TV in the background managed to distract me horribly, like the sounds of nails against a chalkboard. I hate having a TV on in the background when I’m trying to work or otherwise concentrate on something, and I told Mistress last night, and she told me angrily to just learn to live with it.
All that led to me going out with Mistress’s annoyed permission and getting some earplugs, which I used when I returned and started work on the kitchen mess. By then I was calmed down, more or less, and I lost myself for awhile in the meditative trance that comes when doing the chores – in this instance, the chore of cleaning up everything. Afterward I talked to Mistress and asked how things went with the puppyboy, and she told me she was rather unhappy at me because she felt the living room was a mess, and that it was my fault for failing to clean it during the last couple of days. And I responded that I hadn’t had time, and she attacked me for spending too much time on the Internet, and we went back and forth, and I started crying and I couldn’t take it and went upstairs.
I came back down and sat down on the stairs, still crying, and she angrily approached me and asked what exactly was wrong with me. And I told her that, in addition to everything, I was very stressed about my finances. Which were indeed stressing me out like crazy.
In case anybody hasn’t noticed, I haven’t been whooping and hollering about getting any jobs lately. Yep, all those jobs I applied for recently that seemed like great opportunities, and all those interviews which went so great, well … they all flopped for reasons beyond my knowledge. In just a little more than a month my unemployment will be running out. I was actually making significantly more than my ex at the time of the divorce (I was in software development), and even though we’re both unemployed, I’m the one paying child support because my unemployment check is larger. And I’m scared as all hell, because in about a month I’ll either likely be out of money or very likely I’ll be working a job making barely above minimum wage just to keep my head above water.
And I told that to Mistress, and I started bawling because I wanted so much to be a slave, but I was so afraid I’d be spending all my time on a lousy job away from her making just enough money to survive… and she got really pissed at me and said I was spoiled and said I needed to toughen up because a lot of people are having to work jobs they hate, and I will likely have to be one of them and so I’d better get used to the idea.
It was horrible. Mistress and I have never had an actual fight, and I felt afterward that I had finally totally screwed things up between us.
Mistress ended the conversation by demanding to know what I wanted of her. And I shakily told her I just wanted to be Owned by her. And she told me to make up a list of the things I felt being “Owned” meant to me, and I told her that being Owned meant simply … being Owned as property in every way. Even the Thralls of the Vikings, I thought, were guaranteed room and board by their Owners (assuming their Owners didn’t kill them, of course). And I told Mistress last night I was concerned about having to pay rent and everything, and she barked at me saying that we’ll handle things as they come, and she went to bed.
Today her attitude was a little different. In subtle ways, but in powerful ones.
For example, she said she wanted to draw up a formal contract. She wants to set in stone all of her rules and regulations, and everything she expects, and what punishments I will receive for failing or disobeying her. It was a total surprise to me, and she said she thinks we need it because she’s now feeling that we’ll be together potentially for a long time. She said the contract won’t be ready very soon, but it’ll definitely be needed once we reach our one-year anniversary … and I was thrilled and flabbergasted that she was assuming (particularly after last night) that we’ll be together that long!
And several times today, she directly ordered me to do something, and when I looked at her and started to question things respectfully, she ordered me to be quiet and do what I was told. Tonight she said she’s finally realized that she doesn’t have to explain herself to me, and from now on she won’t most of the time, but will instead expect me to obey her without question.
At another point in the day, I nervously asked her if instead of the necklace she gave me (which is her collar that I wear), if today I could wear a necklace that Master G’s wife gave me (which is thick and beautiful and violet, my favorite color). And Mistress said she didn’t have any problem with me doing that … as long as I ALWAYS remembered that I was collared by her and that I was her property.
And Mistress said she’s also thinking about getting me a ring (!!!) to represent publicly that I’m taken, and that I’m Owned by her to all the world.
And when I mentioned how Master G wrote me back and he was very happy with the idea of co-owning me several days each week, Mistress said that although Master G will be my her proxy and I treat him like my Owner in all respects when she’s not around, when Mistress is around I am to ALWAYS remember that she is my true Owner in every respect.
She’s more aloof from me than normal. We were very busy all day from the moment we awoke, but we’re busy a lot of days. Today, however, Mistress was more serious. Playful, but, without a doubt, always in control.
It’s very clear – she Owns me. I think whatever doubts she might have had in the past about that are quickly melting away. And she’s acting on that knowledge.
At one point I told her how happy I am that she Owns me, and I asked her if she’s happy Owning me, and she said, “What choice do I have?” in that she was expressing that she felt she was committed now and couldn’t get rid of me if she wanted to. I mentioned Master G may want to own me and might buy me from her, and that’s when she mentioned the ring all of a sudden, and I was a bit swept away by emotion for a few minutes afterward, even as I was continuing to work (I was making dinner for her when she told me of her idea).
I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. But I have a distinct feeling that wherever my path may lead, I’ll be wearing a collar, and I’ll be Owned by my Mistress for a while.
And it sounds good to me. *smiles*
La kajira!
As mentioned in my previous posting, I wound up staying home the night before last by surprise, and Mistress took the occasion to take me out to dinner at Red Robin. Mistress decided afterward it wasn’t exactly a place we’ll be going back. Service was lousy. Lipstick was on my Mistress’s tea cup, and the Manager just laughed about it (he did try to make a little joke about the situation, but he still charged her for the tea). *shrugs* We still had fun, and it was a nice little outing.
Afterward, Mistress told me to contact Master G to discuss plans for me to serve him and his wife on a regular schedule … as in, two or three nights every week. Mistress feels that Master G and his wife could really use the help, and Mistress really likes Master G, and Master G could teach me some wonderful things he’s picked up during his decade in the lifestyle, and Mistress said she wants privacy at times (such as when her Master is over or when she’s with an intimate date), and said she sometimes actually likes being independent and handling things (such as cooking for herself) without a slave around. As glad as I am to be able to be with Master G and his wife so much, it concerned me that Mistress so quickly and casually decided to have Master G share in my Ownership so much, and I pondered such things as I headed to bed.
Along with doing the normal chores, I spent yesterday morning shopping with Mistress before heading out to be with my kids. Last night after I came home I was pretty happy but also pretty darn tired as well … more tired than a realized, which caused a quite unfortunate situation to erupt.
The puppyboy was there when I came home. He’s been suspended from his job, it seems, because he had at his workplace a sexually explicit catalog, which he gave to a friend, and the catalog was found in his friend’s desk, and things got traced back. The puppyboy was feeling rather unhappy about the whole thing, and I tried to cheer him up until he told me he was feeling rather depressed and suicidal, and for some reason that ticked me off. After my spending a year being incredibly depressed and suicidal, and my not having a job for a year and a half, for him to tell me he desperately needed to see a psychiatrist after being suspended for two days … just plain annoyed me.
And so I went to the kitchen to get a soda while he and Mistress talked, and I managed to knock over a glass of tea I had put in the fridge, causing it to spill over everything in the bottom part of the fridge and onto the floor, getting in the cracks and under the glass and into the veggie drawers and … I got pissed, way over the top. I started tossing things out of the fridge and swearing and making noise until I, very loudly, finished cleaning up everything. By then, the puppyboy had made his exit, and I went to Mistress, who (rightfully so) was extremely annoyed at me for making such a scene.
To be honest, I’m not sure why I exploded like I did except that I had some pent up stress and tiredness, and puppyboy acting like he did sort of lit a fuse. Oh, and the fact that I had done the same stupid thing a few nights earlier, causing coffee to spill all over everything. Oh, and the fact the kitchen was a total mess, with piles of dirty pots and pans and bowls and utensils everywhere, the signs of Mistress having made batches of chocolate-chip cookies while I was gone, and it was of course my job to clean it all up. And add to that the fact that the television was playing rather loudly in the background. My Asperger’s was in full gear last night, making it so the sounds of the TV in the background managed to distract me horribly, like the sounds of nails against a chalkboard. I hate having a TV on in the background when I’m trying to work or otherwise concentrate on something, and I told Mistress last night, and she told me angrily to just learn to live with it.
All that led to me going out with Mistress’s annoyed permission and getting some earplugs, which I used when I returned and started work on the kitchen mess. By then I was calmed down, more or less, and I lost myself for awhile in the meditative trance that comes when doing the chores – in this instance, the chore of cleaning up everything. Afterward I talked to Mistress and asked how things went with the puppyboy, and she told me she was rather unhappy at me because she felt the living room was a mess, and that it was my fault for failing to clean it during the last couple of days. And I responded that I hadn’t had time, and she attacked me for spending too much time on the Internet, and we went back and forth, and I started crying and I couldn’t take it and went upstairs.
I came back down and sat down on the stairs, still crying, and she angrily approached me and asked what exactly was wrong with me. And I told her that, in addition to everything, I was very stressed about my finances. Which were indeed stressing me out like crazy.
In case anybody hasn’t noticed, I haven’t been whooping and hollering about getting any jobs lately. Yep, all those jobs I applied for recently that seemed like great opportunities, and all those interviews which went so great, well … they all flopped for reasons beyond my knowledge. In just a little more than a month my unemployment will be running out. I was actually making significantly more than my ex at the time of the divorce (I was in software development), and even though we’re both unemployed, I’m the one paying child support because my unemployment check is larger. And I’m scared as all hell, because in about a month I’ll either likely be out of money or very likely I’ll be working a job making barely above minimum wage just to keep my head above water.
And I told that to Mistress, and I started bawling because I wanted so much to be a slave, but I was so afraid I’d be spending all my time on a lousy job away from her making just enough money to survive… and she got really pissed at me and said I was spoiled and said I needed to toughen up because a lot of people are having to work jobs they hate, and I will likely have to be one of them and so I’d better get used to the idea.
It was horrible. Mistress and I have never had an actual fight, and I felt afterward that I had finally totally screwed things up between us.
Mistress ended the conversation by demanding to know what I wanted of her. And I shakily told her I just wanted to be Owned by her. And she told me to make up a list of the things I felt being “Owned” meant to me, and I told her that being Owned meant simply … being Owned as property in every way. Even the Thralls of the Vikings, I thought, were guaranteed room and board by their Owners (assuming their Owners didn’t kill them, of course). And I told Mistress last night I was concerned about having to pay rent and everything, and she barked at me saying that we’ll handle things as they come, and she went to bed.
Today her attitude was a little different. In subtle ways, but in powerful ones.
For example, she said she wanted to draw up a formal contract. She wants to set in stone all of her rules and regulations, and everything she expects, and what punishments I will receive for failing or disobeying her. It was a total surprise to me, and she said she thinks we need it because she’s now feeling that we’ll be together potentially for a long time. She said the contract won’t be ready very soon, but it’ll definitely be needed once we reach our one-year anniversary … and I was thrilled and flabbergasted that she was assuming (particularly after last night) that we’ll be together that long!
And several times today, she directly ordered me to do something, and when I looked at her and started to question things respectfully, she ordered me to be quiet and do what I was told. Tonight she said she’s finally realized that she doesn’t have to explain herself to me, and from now on she won’t most of the time, but will instead expect me to obey her without question.
At another point in the day, I nervously asked her if instead of the necklace she gave me (which is her collar that I wear), if today I could wear a necklace that Master G’s wife gave me (which is thick and beautiful and violet, my favorite color). And Mistress said she didn’t have any problem with me doing that … as long as I ALWAYS remembered that I was collared by her and that I was her property.
And Mistress said she’s also thinking about getting me a ring (!!!) to represent publicly that I’m taken, and that I’m Owned by her to all the world.
And when I mentioned how Master G wrote me back and he was very happy with the idea of co-owning me several days each week, Mistress said that although Master G will be my her proxy and I treat him like my Owner in all respects when she’s not around, when Mistress is around I am to ALWAYS remember that she is my true Owner in every respect.
She’s more aloof from me than normal. We were very busy all day from the moment we awoke, but we’re busy a lot of days. Today, however, Mistress was more serious. Playful, but, without a doubt, always in control.
It’s very clear – she Owns me. I think whatever doubts she might have had in the past about that are quickly melting away. And she’s acting on that knowledge.
At one point I told her how happy I am that she Owns me, and I asked her if she’s happy Owning me, and she said, “What choice do I have?” in that she was expressing that she felt she was committed now and couldn’t get rid of me if she wanted to. I mentioned Master G may want to own me and might buy me from her, and that’s when she mentioned the ring all of a sudden, and I was a bit swept away by emotion for a few minutes afterward, even as I was continuing to work (I was making dinner for her when she told me of her idea).
I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. But I have a distinct feeling that wherever my path may lead, I’ll be wearing a collar, and I’ll be Owned by my Mistress for a while.
And it sounds good to me. *smiles*
La kajira!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Day 61 - On Celebrating Leif Ericsson Day with My Kids, Learning About Being a Slave (Thrall) in Viking Days, and Getting a Little Creepy in my Ex's Kitchen
(Yes, this is a little break from my usual logs, but I had so much fun I wanted to record it in detail! *bounces*)
Happy Leif Ericsson Day!!!
No, I’m not Swedish or, as far as I know, descended from Vikings. However, on the way to see my kids on yesterday, my ex called, and we decided to put off my visit a day so that I could celebrate use Leif Ericsson day as an excuse to teach the kids about history – particularly, the Vikings.
And we had a blast! Particularly, my daughter and I did, because my son was off most of the evening with his uncle, who was playing a concert (he’s a professional jazz musician). After spending the morning (and last night) researching Vikings, I went over with a bag of stuff.
Having been told to expect a fun day, my daughter dressed up in a medieval dress, which we figured was accurate because Vikings were traders and could have gotten it somewhere. I, on the other hand, do have a Viking-style tunic that I sewed by hand years ago when I was involved in The Society for Creative Anachronism, along with a cape and a bag of hand-painted wooden rune discs, which I used for divination. And … all of that is in storage somewhere, so I found the best I could find in my closet (being a rustic-looking loose shirt, a thick skirt and sandals), and all was fine anyway. *chuckles*
I taught my daughter exciting stuff about Vikings, and their way of life, and the fact they were explorers, and how they were largely farmers or fishermen, and … I left out the fact that the major trade good of Vikings was slaves (my ex and I mutually agreed my daughter was too young to learn about such things). I researched that part pretty well last night, just out of curiosity, and it’s a fascinating topic … especially because I’m a slave, naturally. The way Vikings treated slaves was, in many ways, like the way Goreans treat slaves in the novels except … Vikings were (relatively) nicer, and they weren’t misogynistic. Men, women and children were all taken as slaves in the raids. And having a female slave serve as a bed partner wasn’t very common, by the way. Slaves (which were called “thralls”) pretty much did the backbreaking jobs the free people didn’t want to do. Slaves were, indeed, treated like livestock, in that they could be killed by anybody for any reason, and if somebody was found to have wrongfully killed a slave, the only penalty would be they would have to pay the slave’s owner the fair market price that the slave was worth. Slaves could also own some things, and although it wasn’t much, it theoretically allowed them to save up to buy their own freedom, which was a huge affair. Oh, and the mark of being a slave was the same thing as in Gor – they were forced to wear collars. Like I said, an interesting topic.
After teaching her about Leif Ericsson and his adventures, I taught her about how Viking girls were expected to not only learn womanly skills (such as making clothing and cooking), but also needed to know a lot of the manly skills (such as managing the household farm and mending furniture) because they needed to keep things going when the men were off raiding and pillaging. Oh, and I also taught her about Leif’s half-sister Freydis, who was known as a bit off a warrior, and I told my daughter how Viking girls, if they were strong and wanted to do it, could become warriors and fight alongside the men. Can you tell I’m encouraging my daughter to grow up to be a “strong, brave and smart girl”? (That’s our little catchphrase, by the way. *grins*)
After curling up on the couch together while I read her several of the myths about Norse Goddesses (concentrating on Freya, my favorite of them all), we got to the best part … the food! Sardines and herring and flatbread and apples and nuts and lots of cheese! Yum! My daughter loves fish of all types, and so she gobbled up the sardines and herring like nobody’s business! She says it’s her cat nature – she believes she’s a cat in a human body – and I’m not somebody to doubt her.
Next I got out the board and pieces for a Viking game to teach her, but my son came home about then and interrupted what was happening, and that was okay because I think my daughter had about absorbed all she could.
Turning to my son, I taught him everything I had taught his sister, but with him we discussed slaves, because he had already heard about that a bit in school. It’s weird to think that, in Viking life, my son would be old enough to be considered an adult, and to go out raiding and fighting in huge warships. *bites her lip*
Afterward, my son carved a really spooky pumpkin, and all of us transformed the kitchen into a “haunted house,” so that when my ex walked downstairs, all the lights suddenly went out, and my daughter (in a black cat costume) rubbed against my ex’s legs and meowed loudly and creepily, and then I started cackling menacingly and my son made his pumpkin float eerily all around the room. It was a hit! *giggles*
The Viking celebration isn’t over yet, for Sunday I’ll be returning, and we’ll all make Viking helmets and shields and battle axes, and then we’ll go out exploring new worlds, looking for adventure and even elves! (which is what, I’ve heard, Leif thought Indians were when he first met them).
Wish us luck!!!
*bounces happily*
Happy Leif Ericsson Day!!!
No, I’m not Swedish or, as far as I know, descended from Vikings. However, on the way to see my kids on yesterday, my ex called, and we decided to put off my visit a day so that I could celebrate use Leif Ericsson day as an excuse to teach the kids about history – particularly, the Vikings.
And we had a blast! Particularly, my daughter and I did, because my son was off most of the evening with his uncle, who was playing a concert (he’s a professional jazz musician). After spending the morning (and last night) researching Vikings, I went over with a bag of stuff.
Having been told to expect a fun day, my daughter dressed up in a medieval dress, which we figured was accurate because Vikings were traders and could have gotten it somewhere. I, on the other hand, do have a Viking-style tunic that I sewed by hand years ago when I was involved in The Society for Creative Anachronism, along with a cape and a bag of hand-painted wooden rune discs, which I used for divination. And … all of that is in storage somewhere, so I found the best I could find in my closet (being a rustic-looking loose shirt, a thick skirt and sandals), and all was fine anyway. *chuckles*
I taught my daughter exciting stuff about Vikings, and their way of life, and the fact they were explorers, and how they were largely farmers or fishermen, and … I left out the fact that the major trade good of Vikings was slaves (my ex and I mutually agreed my daughter was too young to learn about such things). I researched that part pretty well last night, just out of curiosity, and it’s a fascinating topic … especially because I’m a slave, naturally. The way Vikings treated slaves was, in many ways, like the way Goreans treat slaves in the novels except … Vikings were (relatively) nicer, and they weren’t misogynistic. Men, women and children were all taken as slaves in the raids. And having a female slave serve as a bed partner wasn’t very common, by the way. Slaves (which were called “thralls”) pretty much did the backbreaking jobs the free people didn’t want to do. Slaves were, indeed, treated like livestock, in that they could be killed by anybody for any reason, and if somebody was found to have wrongfully killed a slave, the only penalty would be they would have to pay the slave’s owner the fair market price that the slave was worth. Slaves could also own some things, and although it wasn’t much, it theoretically allowed them to save up to buy their own freedom, which was a huge affair. Oh, and the mark of being a slave was the same thing as in Gor – they were forced to wear collars. Like I said, an interesting topic.
After teaching her about Leif Ericsson and his adventures, I taught her about how Viking girls were expected to not only learn womanly skills (such as making clothing and cooking), but also needed to know a lot of the manly skills (such as managing the household farm and mending furniture) because they needed to keep things going when the men were off raiding and pillaging. Oh, and I also taught her about Leif’s half-sister Freydis, who was known as a bit off a warrior, and I told my daughter how Viking girls, if they were strong and wanted to do it, could become warriors and fight alongside the men. Can you tell I’m encouraging my daughter to grow up to be a “strong, brave and smart girl”? (That’s our little catchphrase, by the way. *grins*)
After curling up on the couch together while I read her several of the myths about Norse Goddesses (concentrating on Freya, my favorite of them all), we got to the best part … the food! Sardines and herring and flatbread and apples and nuts and lots of cheese! Yum! My daughter loves fish of all types, and so she gobbled up the sardines and herring like nobody’s business! She says it’s her cat nature – she believes she’s a cat in a human body – and I’m not somebody to doubt her.
Next I got out the board and pieces for a Viking game to teach her, but my son came home about then and interrupted what was happening, and that was okay because I think my daughter had about absorbed all she could.
Turning to my son, I taught him everything I had taught his sister, but with him we discussed slaves, because he had already heard about that a bit in school. It’s weird to think that, in Viking life, my son would be old enough to be considered an adult, and to go out raiding and fighting in huge warships. *bites her lip*
Afterward, my son carved a really spooky pumpkin, and all of us transformed the kitchen into a “haunted house,” so that when my ex walked downstairs, all the lights suddenly went out, and my daughter (in a black cat costume) rubbed against my ex’s legs and meowed loudly and creepily, and then I started cackling menacingly and my son made his pumpkin float eerily all around the room. It was a hit! *giggles*
The Viking celebration isn’t over yet, for Sunday I’ll be returning, and we’ll all make Viking helmets and shields and battle axes, and then we’ll go out exploring new worlds, looking for adventure and even elves! (which is what, I’ve heard, Leif thought Indians were when he first met them).
Wish us luck!!!
*bounces happily*
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Day 60 - On Boring Porn, Fucking a Puppyboy from the Top, Wanting a Guy to Fuck Me While I'm on Bottom, Attending a Class on Protocol, and Steampunk Coming Soon!
I’m sitting at the top of the stairs, typing on my laptop. I came up here to get away from the distractions downstairs.
Hardcore porn is playing on the big-screen TV in the living room. A nubile blonde sucks some guy’s cock on the video while my Mistress is sucking her Master’s cock while he sits back in one of the Lazy Boy chairs.
Mistress enjoys such videos. I just roll my eyes. Porn bores me for the most part. I’m not saying there isn’t porn out there that I might potentially enjoy, but as a friend told me a long time ago, “What’s the point of watching people having more fun than you’re having?” Although, I admit, since Mistress and her Master are duplicating right now what’s happening on the screen, I guess what my friend said doesn’t really apply here.
The last few days haven’t been overly exciting, at least as far as things worth posting in my blog. We visited the puppyboy again two days ago, and this time I got the chance to climb on top of him after I had sucked him to hardness. He came twice in me, with his cum soaking both of us. I orgasmed twice as well, but they were little ones. *shrugs* I wasn’t really into it that night, so it was no real big deal for me.
I’m sick of fucking guys from the top. That’s what overweight guys all seem to want. The last time I had sex from the bottom was the night I went home with that muscle-built construction worker. Yeah, he was so powerful and huge he stretched me to the point of painfulness. But … wow … was he memorable. And he took me like a woman WANTS to be taken. Mmmmm ….
Yesterday I spent far too much time responding to a new comic posted on Collar6. I got all protective of the main character (a consensual slave named Laura) after it was revealed that her Mistress had slipped an aphrodisiac into Laura’s coffee without her knowledge, and the Mistress and a maid were both laughing about how they were about to have fun with the shy, innocent, tender slave after getting her into a heavy bondage suit and taking her to a harem for wild sex in the basement. The strip has been incredibly sweet and loving in places up to this point, and to see it potentially change like that really bothered me because I identify with Laura in a lot of ways. If you want, you can read my rather convoluted rantings there at: Collar6 - Potentcy - Comments
Last night I went to a session on protocol at The Sanctuary BDSM club in Denver. Besides the two very experienced Masters who presented it, the only people who showed up were me, one of the Master’s slaves, a 24-year-old woman who has been in the BDSM lifestyle for eight years (yes, I’m not kidding … she started when she was 16), and the girl’s boyfriend, who was really the only person there who didn’t already know everything taught in the class. The girl was pretty cool, but I was REALLY envious, because I can barely imagine what it would have been like to have been introduced to all this when I was that young. What’s even more amazing (at least, to me) is that her mom found out about her activities, and in response, her mom invited her to a BDSM play party! Yep … her mom was into the lifestyle as well, and was a long-term die-hard Gorean. Beats having ultra-conservative Southern Baptist parents, like I had.
Speaking of my childhood, somebody wrote me today asking, as background for a story, whether I had always longed to be a slave, and whether it all made sense (like a lightbulb coming on) after I was finally exposed to it. Here was my response:
~~~~~~~~~
I'd love to help! Your questions have me going back in thought on my life. Sometimes, thinking like that brings back unpleasant memories, but in this case, the feelings are quite warm.
A quick overview of my life might be useful. I was raised by two very conservative religious parents in Texas, and, for all intents and purposes, they way they treated me set me up to be a nice, submissive, obedient housewife. I was often as a child publicly humiliated for even simple disobedience, and my mother would pull down my pants and undies in front of other people then discipline me with a switch freshly broken from a tree. Despite all that, they spoiled me as well in many ways regarding household chores, but that was, I believe, because my mother was also extremely subservient, and she would quickly obey everything my father told her to do, and would get all freaky if anything in the house was out of order. And so I was taught to be a perfectly obedient but lazy slave, if that makes sense. *sighs* I've debated with myself for decades the old nature versus nurture debate -- whether I'm slave-hearted and they realized that in their treatment of me, or whether their treatment of me made me that way, but either way what they did certainly helped foster it. I've heard people say that, "All slaves seek their parents at heart," and that may truly be the case.
Because I was so intelligent (at least, in school), my parents decided I would go to college and be an engineer (it was their choice, not mine). I didn't do well, despite my intelligence, and after graduating I felt a longing for something I couldn't quite put my finger on. After struggling to survive on my own, I soon found somebody quite dominant (so much that, while we were still dating, they raided my closet and threw away any "undesired" possessions, and I didn't complain), and we were consequently married for about 17 years.
I can safely say that SecondLife destroyed our marriage, but not because I was addicted to it. Instead, it exposed me to something truly amazing -- the BDSM community. Even more so, it was there I discovered Gor. My spouse considered BDSM to be obscene and would not allow me to explore it, and my Internet usage and social life was largely restricted, so I was very sheltered in many ways and I didn't know there were people who lived in formal "Dominant/submissive" lifestyles, or especially in "Master/slave" ones. A few weeks into SecondLife, however, my submissiveness became clear to the people working in (and visiting) the stripper/escort bar where I worked online (and, yes, I kept my SecondLife activities secret, and would usually only get online after my ex was in bed or not in the house). One of the people there took control of me, and I loved it. She taught me a bit about the idea of being owned, and to me, this was perfectly natural and wonderful, as if finally I had found my calling in life. I think it was only a few days later that I accidentally followed him/her into a Gorean sim and ... the lightbulb that had been turned on by that dominant suddenly flared into an almost blinding intensity. I knew then I had found my home, and before I knew it I was serving naked as a kajira (a Gorean female slave) on the docks of an online city known as Port Cos.
I had to know even more, and I discreetly sought out a real-life Gorean group, and I told my spouse I was going to a meeting with a group of fantasy roleplayers. I was collared by the Master of a local Gorean household and remained a weekend slave for months before I got a little scared of where things were going (I've since learned that Master has a reputation in the community for being a bit too extreme, and I'm not the only person he scares a bit.) I gave up SecondLife and tried to keep the marriage going but ... it didn't work in the long run. I had been given a taste of forbidden fruit of knowledge, and the siren song of the collar continued to play it's irresistible tune in my heart day and night.
In late 2006, when my ex and I were already talking divorce, I returned to SecondLife on a lark, and that proved to me my undoing ... as far as being a free woman goes. I returned to Gor, where I was collared by people who realized my true nature. The dream of being a kajira, existing only to please and serve, grabbed hold of my mind so tightly that I became addicted to SecondLife, living there as much as possible to the great detriment of my real life. I became totally immersed in the online slave culture, and I was soon being courted by men who wanted me to be their slave in real life. That began a journey that resulted in me at one point being a weekend slave in a different Gorean household for about six months, then spending about four months very directly and determinedly seeking somebody who could own me full time. After getting to know dozens of potential Masters (and serving in the households of several of them), I met my Mistress as she sat at the side of her Master and ... the rest is history.
Gaaah! Did I say "quick" overview??? *chuckles* That's what you get for asking a writer a simple question!
And to boil things down ... I believe I've always had a slave heart, but I didn't know it. I longed for being the property of somebody, being owned totally, but I couldn't find words or thoughts to express my desires. If I had known it when I was young, I believe my life would have been a much better, happier one, because I could have pursued the right path for me from the start.
And when I was finally exposed to it after decades of ignorance, it was definitely like a lightbulb going off. I knew that this was the heart of my inner feelings and self identity in so many ways, and once the door was opened, there was no closing it ever again.
~~~~~~~~~
After last night’s class, I went home with Master G (who was one of the presenters), and we talked and touched tenderly for a long time. I care for him deeply, and he said he feels the same for me. Mistress knows, and she said she’s going to work out a schedule with him to allow me to go over on a regular basis and stay the night, basically resulting in me being shared between them in most ways. I can hardly wait!!!
And … to my shock … he’s into Steampunk!!! I LOVE STEAMPUNK!!! He’s even teaching a class on it next week at The Sanctuary, and there will be a Steampunk party the following weekend. I’ll be going with him to both in costume, and that will be SOOO KEWL!!!
*giggles*
And on that note, time to run off to see my kids for awhile. Enjoy!!!
La kajira!!!
Hardcore porn is playing on the big-screen TV in the living room. A nubile blonde sucks some guy’s cock on the video while my Mistress is sucking her Master’s cock while he sits back in one of the Lazy Boy chairs.
Mistress enjoys such videos. I just roll my eyes. Porn bores me for the most part. I’m not saying there isn’t porn out there that I might potentially enjoy, but as a friend told me a long time ago, “What’s the point of watching people having more fun than you’re having?” Although, I admit, since Mistress and her Master are duplicating right now what’s happening on the screen, I guess what my friend said doesn’t really apply here.
The last few days haven’t been overly exciting, at least as far as things worth posting in my blog. We visited the puppyboy again two days ago, and this time I got the chance to climb on top of him after I had sucked him to hardness. He came twice in me, with his cum soaking both of us. I orgasmed twice as well, but they were little ones. *shrugs* I wasn’t really into it that night, so it was no real big deal for me.
I’m sick of fucking guys from the top. That’s what overweight guys all seem to want. The last time I had sex from the bottom was the night I went home with that muscle-built construction worker. Yeah, he was so powerful and huge he stretched me to the point of painfulness. But … wow … was he memorable. And he took me like a woman WANTS to be taken. Mmmmm ….
Yesterday I spent far too much time responding to a new comic posted on Collar6. I got all protective of the main character (a consensual slave named Laura) after it was revealed that her Mistress had slipped an aphrodisiac into Laura’s coffee without her knowledge, and the Mistress and a maid were both laughing about how they were about to have fun with the shy, innocent, tender slave after getting her into a heavy bondage suit and taking her to a harem for wild sex in the basement. The strip has been incredibly sweet and loving in places up to this point, and to see it potentially change like that really bothered me because I identify with Laura in a lot of ways. If you want, you can read my rather convoluted rantings there at: Collar6 - Potentcy - Comments
Last night I went to a session on protocol at The Sanctuary BDSM club in Denver. Besides the two very experienced Masters who presented it, the only people who showed up were me, one of the Master’s slaves, a 24-year-old woman who has been in the BDSM lifestyle for eight years (yes, I’m not kidding … she started when she was 16), and the girl’s boyfriend, who was really the only person there who didn’t already know everything taught in the class. The girl was pretty cool, but I was REALLY envious, because I can barely imagine what it would have been like to have been introduced to all this when I was that young. What’s even more amazing (at least, to me) is that her mom found out about her activities, and in response, her mom invited her to a BDSM play party! Yep … her mom was into the lifestyle as well, and was a long-term die-hard Gorean. Beats having ultra-conservative Southern Baptist parents, like I had.
Speaking of my childhood, somebody wrote me today asking, as background for a story, whether I had always longed to be a slave, and whether it all made sense (like a lightbulb coming on) after I was finally exposed to it. Here was my response:
~~~~~~~~~
I'd love to help! Your questions have me going back in thought on my life. Sometimes, thinking like that brings back unpleasant memories, but in this case, the feelings are quite warm.
A quick overview of my life might be useful. I was raised by two very conservative religious parents in Texas, and, for all intents and purposes, they way they treated me set me up to be a nice, submissive, obedient housewife. I was often as a child publicly humiliated for even simple disobedience, and my mother would pull down my pants and undies in front of other people then discipline me with a switch freshly broken from a tree. Despite all that, they spoiled me as well in many ways regarding household chores, but that was, I believe, because my mother was also extremely subservient, and she would quickly obey everything my father told her to do, and would get all freaky if anything in the house was out of order. And so I was taught to be a perfectly obedient but lazy slave, if that makes sense. *sighs* I've debated with myself for decades the old nature versus nurture debate -- whether I'm slave-hearted and they realized that in their treatment of me, or whether their treatment of me made me that way, but either way what they did certainly helped foster it. I've heard people say that, "All slaves seek their parents at heart," and that may truly be the case.
Because I was so intelligent (at least, in school), my parents decided I would go to college and be an engineer (it was their choice, not mine). I didn't do well, despite my intelligence, and after graduating I felt a longing for something I couldn't quite put my finger on. After struggling to survive on my own, I soon found somebody quite dominant (so much that, while we were still dating, they raided my closet and threw away any "undesired" possessions, and I didn't complain), and we were consequently married for about 17 years.
I can safely say that SecondLife destroyed our marriage, but not because I was addicted to it. Instead, it exposed me to something truly amazing -- the BDSM community. Even more so, it was there I discovered Gor. My spouse considered BDSM to be obscene and would not allow me to explore it, and my Internet usage and social life was largely restricted, so I was very sheltered in many ways and I didn't know there were people who lived in formal "Dominant/submissive" lifestyles, or especially in "Master/slave" ones. A few weeks into SecondLife, however, my submissiveness became clear to the people working in (and visiting) the stripper/escort bar where I worked online (and, yes, I kept my SecondLife activities secret, and would usually only get online after my ex was in bed or not in the house). One of the people there took control of me, and I loved it. She taught me a bit about the idea of being owned, and to me, this was perfectly natural and wonderful, as if finally I had found my calling in life. I think it was only a few days later that I accidentally followed him/her into a Gorean sim and ... the lightbulb that had been turned on by that dominant suddenly flared into an almost blinding intensity. I knew then I had found my home, and before I knew it I was serving naked as a kajira (a Gorean female slave) on the docks of an online city known as Port Cos.
I had to know even more, and I discreetly sought out a real-life Gorean group, and I told my spouse I was going to a meeting with a group of fantasy roleplayers. I was collared by the Master of a local Gorean household and remained a weekend slave for months before I got a little scared of where things were going (I've since learned that Master has a reputation in the community for being a bit too extreme, and I'm not the only person he scares a bit.) I gave up SecondLife and tried to keep the marriage going but ... it didn't work in the long run. I had been given a taste of forbidden fruit of knowledge, and the siren song of the collar continued to play it's irresistible tune in my heart day and night.
In late 2006, when my ex and I were already talking divorce, I returned to SecondLife on a lark, and that proved to me my undoing ... as far as being a free woman goes. I returned to Gor, where I was collared by people who realized my true nature. The dream of being a kajira, existing only to please and serve, grabbed hold of my mind so tightly that I became addicted to SecondLife, living there as much as possible to the great detriment of my real life. I became totally immersed in the online slave culture, and I was soon being courted by men who wanted me to be their slave in real life. That began a journey that resulted in me at one point being a weekend slave in a different Gorean household for about six months, then spending about four months very directly and determinedly seeking somebody who could own me full time. After getting to know dozens of potential Masters (and serving in the households of several of them), I met my Mistress as she sat at the side of her Master and ... the rest is history.
Gaaah! Did I say "quick" overview??? *chuckles* That's what you get for asking a writer a simple question!
And to boil things down ... I believe I've always had a slave heart, but I didn't know it. I longed for being the property of somebody, being owned totally, but I couldn't find words or thoughts to express my desires. If I had known it when I was young, I believe my life would have been a much better, happier one, because I could have pursued the right path for me from the start.
And when I was finally exposed to it after decades of ignorance, it was definitely like a lightbulb going off. I knew that this was the heart of my inner feelings and self identity in so many ways, and once the door was opened, there was no closing it ever again.
~~~~~~~~~
After last night’s class, I went home with Master G (who was one of the presenters), and we talked and touched tenderly for a long time. I care for him deeply, and he said he feels the same for me. Mistress knows, and she said she’s going to work out a schedule with him to allow me to go over on a regular basis and stay the night, basically resulting in me being shared between them in most ways. I can hardly wait!!!
And … to my shock … he’s into Steampunk!!! I LOVE STEAMPUNK!!! He’s even teaching a class on it next week at The Sanctuary, and there will be a Steampunk party the following weekend. I’ll be going with him to both in costume, and that will be SOOO KEWL!!!
*giggles*
And on that note, time to run off to see my kids for awhile. Enjoy!!!
La kajira!!!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Day 57 - On Being Fucked by Mistress's Master and Enjoying It, But Being Told By Mistress I Still Can't Trust Him, and On Setting Rules and a Chore List That Makes Mistress and Me Quite Happy
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