Day 214 - On Coming Out of Depression Via Micromanagement, On Master Being Sick Again, On Shamanic Healing Rituals That Do Work and Sometimes Don't, and On Causing Master to Become as Angry at Me as He's Ever Likely to Become

In very sharp contrast to the last time I posted, things are going great now, emotionally AND physically AND spiritually. Master, seeing I was in the depths of depression, decided to take over my task-making abilities, and he micromanaged my chore list for most of last week. By the end of the week, I was back to a regular schedule of things to do, and I could put everything in a very effective perspective – and, best of all, I was getting stuff DONE – which cheered me up to no end!

*bounces*

As things are now, the inertia has taken over, and I’m running stuff on my own again, setting my own chores for the most part (although I’m still getting the main tasks for each day approved with Master so he can make sure I’m setting my priorities right).

So things are okay again. Well, for me, anyway. Master has been quite sick with a really awful sinus infection for days. *sighs*

I love winter (the snow and icy landscape remind me of some far-off memories, like from another life. In all seriously, I’ve often felt it has to do with a previous life as an arctic wolf) – but this winter has sucked regarding people getting sick. Master was sick for a long time (experiencing ups and downs that allowed him to function but kept him from having much physical fun) after I moved in, and then I got sick for about a week right after Master finally recovered, and now that I’m well again, Master is sick once more. He’s on antibiotics and resting, so hopefully he’ll come out of it soon. I feel bad not being able to do anything but watch.

Well, I tried to do something. The night before last I did I healing ritual, focusing on his chest (which he said was hurting at the time) and spiritually I found lots of green, bubbly gunk in it (which I worked to remove) – but that didn’t seem to help Master overall, which makes sense because it turns out he has a sinus infection (and I didn’t even do anything spiritually regarding his head, so I treated the symptoms and not the cause), and I’m not really the best at healing rituals. Actually, I wonder if they do much good at all. Yeah, I admit it. Some shamanic workers like to say they can do anything, but I can’t. I do my best to be realistic and base my beliefs on my experiences.

So why do I attempt to do spiritual healing if it usually doesn’t work? Well, it doesn’t work usually if I do it, but I’ve known it to work twice in the past on people I know well. And the thing is, the typical shamanic worker I know will tell you that they personally suck at doing healing – because for a shaman, it’s not them doing the work, it’s the spirits. That’s what makes a shamanic worker different than somebody who claims to be a “magic user” – in my experience, a shaman’s role is to act as a conduit between the physical world and the spirits, but anything that’s miraculous is done is by the spirits, not by the shaman.

A couple of nights ago when I worked with Master, I asked Bear to guide me, and Bear did, and Fox helped as well (which I found surprising, as I hadn’t asked Fox for help – but Fox is M’Lady’s guide, so it makes sense that Fox wants Master healed soon). If two spirits were working to get Master all better, why isn’t he better already, you may be asking? (And the fact is, he’s still feeling lousy – he went to the doctor yesterday, and that’s where he got the antibiotics). The answer is – I don’t know. Maybe Master would be even worse today if Bear and Fox hadn’t helped. Or maybe something’s going on that simply I don’t know about.

Not much proof for your skeptics, eh? I can understand that.

Okay, as I mentioned, two things have happened in my life that got me to believe this stuff is real.

About seven or so years ago, my sister-in-law was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She went back to her doctor repeatedly as needed, and the disease progressed, to the point that her doctor said she likely had less than a year to live, and it would probably be just a few months before the cancer started really hitting her body hard. Needless to say, everybody in her family was upset (especially my ex), and I decided to do what I could – I decided to go out into the woods alone with all of my shamanic tools (which I’ll describe here someday) and do a full-fledged healing ceremony on her behalf. She didn’t believe in such things, so I did it without her knowledge. I called upon all of my spirit guides to assist me and to heal her if they felt such a thing should be done, and I was being careful to express my desires but not to demand that they do anything. One spirit out of the others said she would do it. Arctic Fox. A survivor if there ever was one. She said she would make sure that my sister-in-law survived, but she wouldn’t be perfect – she said my sister-in-law would be damaged in such a way that would affect her for life. I told my ex about it, and my ex said we’d see what happened – and the sister-in-law wasn’t told. A couple of days later, my sister-in-law went back to the doctor for a full examination, and the doctor took and x-ray and did tests and … was extremely perplexed – he said he couldn’t understand it, but somehow all of the previous readings must have been wrong because her cancer was gone. Completely out of her system. There was something wrong, however, he told her. Her ovaries were now unusually scarred, in such a way that she would never have children again. FYI, I asked my ex to tell my sister in law about the ritual after that, but I’m not sure if my ex ever did.

About 17 years ago, my ex had had a cerebral hemorrhage. It had happened suddenly, with the result being that my ex lost peripheral vision and had a virtual time bomb in his brain that at any time could explode and cause him to fall over dead without warning. Doctors said death was extremely unlikely, however, and the two of us were faced with a strange and tough decision. I had just graduated with honors from college with a journalism degree and had just gotten offered a job at a small newspaper in Sheridan, Wyoming. My ex had an administrative job at a large bookstore in Denver. We had planned to move to Wyoming together because we felt I needed the initial experience there to get a job at a newspaper in Denver. but he had the hemorrhage literally one day before he had planned to quit his job. He had already told his manager about it (and fortunately his manager said nothing would be mentioned about it). My new job wouldn’t have insurance, but his existing job did. So we decided something tough – for me to go to Sheridan by myself and visit back as much as possible (which turned out to be once every three weeks). While in Sheridan, I became friends with some residents of the nearby Northern Cheyenne reservation, including an old and respected holy man. Although they were quite secretive about many of their beliefs, he took a shine to me and saw my honest desire to learn, and he allowed me to take part in several very intense sweat lodges – in which a very small dome-shaped structure is created out of bent sticks and blankets over a fire pit, into which are put red hot stones that have been heating over a fire all day. A half dozen or more people get inside, barely fitting in, and the leader then pours water slowly onto the red-hot stones, causing flumes of steam to billow into the tightly confined space. It’s awful and suffocating and so incredibly hot and – the point is, the only way to stand it is to turn inward, to seek yourself and to connect to who you are beyond the physical. The sweat-lodge usually lasts for more than an hour, in four segments (with participants getting a break between each segment and being allowed to go outside). Several months after moving to Sheridan, I told the holy man about my ex’s condition, and he talked with other members of his tribe, and, to my happy surprise and honor, scheduled a special sweat lodge just for my ex, to pray for his recovery. I took part of it, of course, and that sweat lodge was very intense, just like all the others. Afterward, a woman who had taken part with me came to me and said she had had a vision while experiencing the lodge, and in the vision she saw a river flowing through a landscape, and blocking the river was a large rock. Then, as she watched, the rock began to melt and break into tiny pieces, and soon it had fallen apart and washed safely down the stream, allowing the river to flow as it should. I told my ex that the next day, and my ex kept it in mind when he saw his neurologist next for a MRI brain scan. The neurologist said with pleasure that, to his surprise, the scan showed that the blood clot in my ex’s brain had broken up and dissolved in the blood stream, and the danger was for all intents and purposes completely gone. FYI, it wasn’t long after that that I returned home to Denver, and my ex and I were reunited.

So, without a doubt, healing can occur in ways beyond physical explanation.

Master’s illness, by the way, has made him susceptible to being unusually cranky, and twice today I’ve pissed him off greatly. One of the times he said is the angriest he’s ever gotten with anybody, and so I’ve most likely seen him at his most extreme. Looking back, the things I did seem minor, but I seemed to be able to press his buttons in exactly the wrong way, the equivalent of a few uranium atoms coming together to create an atomic explosion.

The first was this morning, when a “to-do” list task-managing program on my computer wasn’t working right, and I told Master, and he tried to fix it, and he did something wrong that made matters worse, and I offered a suggestion on what he did that was incorrect and how to fix it, and he told me to explain it to him, and I couldn’t figure out how and so I asked him to just do as I recommended, and he did and he again demanded an explanation, and I finally was able to show him what I meant in ways that I couldn’t explain with words alone, and he blew up and started yelling at me and accused me of being disobedient and disrespectful and refusing to answer his questions, and I started to cry and explained that I had to show him because I didn’t know how to tell him, and he yelled at me and ordered me out of the room. Later he called me back and gave me a big hug and said my suggestion had been correct and had fixed the problem, and I told him I should have told him the issue was the fact that the database table used a “two-column primary key” but I couldn’t remember the terminology at the time, and he apologized for exploding at me and losing his temper, and I hugged him tighter and told him it was okay, for I’d much prefer he expresses his feelings than keep them bottled up, and things went fine from there.

Well, until this afternoon, when I came home from the grocery store and, as I was opening my car door, accidentally caused a brand-new bottle of wine I had bought myself for cooking to fall out onto the garage floor and shatter everywhere, leaving a pool of glass and wine. I stormed inside the house, totally pissed at myself, and, holding part of the broken bottle, launched into a tirade about what had happened, and Master didn’t put up with it and angrily ordered me to go back out to the garage and deal with the mess. After cleaning things up, I went to my room to look up wine on the Internet, since I was going to have to buy another bottle to replace what I had broken, and for no reason my computer started going haywire and started freezing up. I asked Master about it, and Master went with annoyance to my room, and the longer he tried to figure things out, the more frustrated he became and angry at me, and, having become upset as well, I left the house to go get the wine, and I closed the garage door angrily, and Master suddenly stormed out of the house into the garage and bellowed at me, the force of his inner Dragon spirit launching at me with venomous ire, and he chewed me out for slamming the door, and he yelled that he was too sick to deal with all my drama, and he bared his teeth and told me he didn’t care what I did regarding dinner anymore, and he barrelled back into the house and left me alone. When I came back with the wine he was somewhat calm although still annoyed at me because he said he strongly suspected I had done something foolish to cause the problems on my computer, but fortunately he only raised his voice at me about that a couple of more times before finally calming down for good.

The rest of the night was overall a good one, although I’m quite behind in my tasks. I was supposed to clean my room today (he chewed me out this morning because he feels my room has become unacceptably cluttered and far too messy for his standards), and I got it partially done, but with the shopping and the laundry and the cooking and the other tasks of the day, I didn’t quite finish. Okay, I actually still have a lot to do in my room before finishing. And I didn’t even start on my other task of the day, which was to clean the kitchen top to bottom. *sighs*

And yet, I feel better about my position here than I have in a while. Go figure.

This is my home. And I love my Master. Even if he does have an incredible temper.

Who knows? Maybe that’s part of why I love him.

*shrugs and smiles*

To quote Linda Ellerbee (my inspiration and role model as a journalist): “And so it goes …”

*grins*

Toodles for now! I’ll write more when I have a chance!

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.