(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*
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Monday, October 19, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Day 55 - On Writing a New Short Story, Not Writing My Novel, Wasting My Life in SecondLife, Having a Great Time with My Daughter at an Old West Celebration, Having a Nervous Breakdown After My Divorce, and Reading a Disturbing Erotic Tale
Two days ago I wrote a new short story, a transformational tale which anybody who’s read my previous blogs will recognize because basically I took some recent events in my life and turned them into a slice-of-life work of fantasy.
If you want to read it (and I hope you do) you can find it at: "An Untangling of Threads"
Yes, it’s not the longest story in the world, nor the most complex. But I had fun with it. I stayed up late and wrote it in one setting, and I’m rather pleased with it for what it is, no more and no less.
The pleasure I got from writing that makes me feel I truly need to get back to working on my novel. My dearly departed novel. For almost two years I worked religiously on it, and reached the final few chapters before … running out of steam. Well, that’s not the best description for what happened. In truth, I became distracted. After a year and a half absence, I rediscovered SecondLife. After my divorce in March of last year, I soon became more and more addicted to SecondLife, to the exclusion of my novel (and other pursuits). The death blow for my novel was when I was laid off in May of last year, and I sunk into a clinical depression which I’m only now finally clawing out of, almost a year and a half later. When that happened, my addiction to SecondLife became complete, and for almost a year it truly became my life, my escape from a reality I couldn’t emotionally face.
SecondLife is truly like a drug. I got into SecondLife because I couldn’t face reality. And because SecondLife seems so wonderful, it makes the real world seem awful by comparison. Well, it does when you’re addicted, when you find the real world to be one that you hate, and you lie awake at night wishing you were dead. That’s how I was back then. Fortunately, I’m much better now.
Still, though, even though I’m not addicted to SecondLife anymore, I’ve moved on. I’m a much different person because of what I’ve experienced. A year and a half ago I was planning on marrying a wonderful man in Kentucky who is half my age. Now I’m Owned by a Mistress with no plans to change my situation. That man I loved (and still love deeply) was a writer and was my editor, and he still desires to be that should I ever pick my novel back up.
Lately, though, I simply haven’t had time. No, of course, that’s not true. I simply haven’t made the novel a priority. Even as a slave, I’m sure I could write it, because my Mistress knows of it and would most likely approve.
I could have written in it tonight if not for SecondLife, of course. *sighs*
Yeah. I was in SecondLife tonight. I feel like I just finished a weird little vacation.
Mistress is out tonight with a female friend, attending a BDSM mixer “munch” in Longmont. Mistress’s Master will likely be there, so she gave me the full choice of whether I wanted to go or stay here and simply enjoy myself doing whatever I wanted.
If she had been alone, I would have gone with her, but I sensed she wanted to be with her female friend, and so … I stayed at home and undertook the guilty pleasure known as SecondLife.
*shrugs*
It’s not as intense as it used to be. But then, I was only in it for a few hours tonight, and I used to live in SecondLife for usually eight to twelve hours a day, every day.
I feel a bit tired and mentally exhausted, and I have a slight headache. I think I’ve gotten mentally out of shape in able to live in a virtual world for long periods of time.
Tonight I was a puppet – a marionette – like I have been the last few times I’ve been in SecondLife. I interacted with people on Doll Island, Doll Works and a store named “Dirty Dollies,” but the roleplaying wasn’t deep. Instead, it was like we were at a costume party, and all of us were having fun interacting with each other.
In contrast, when I would roleplay in Gor, I felt like I was really there, because the roleplaying was psychologically overwhelming at times.
Looking back, I find it amazing that I spent three hours in there tonight because so little happened. I chatted with people here and there and played a bit and talked about music, all while pretending to be a marionette. I had some fun with K-8 (the author of the blog at consciousobject.livejournal.com), and this time I was a bit more eloquent.
*shrugs again*
I did, however, get the chance to pass out a few copies of my new story.
So far nobody on www.stuckposting.com has commented at all on my story. Actually, they haven’t commented on anything I’ve written there. Oh, well.
Along with writing the story, most of my time the two days before today were taken up with moving. And, yes, we’re still not done yet. Not only are there still a lot of little (and not so little) things at the old house, but the new place is full of boxes stacked up on top of each other, and it still definitely needs a lot of work to become a normal house. I simply cannot imagine us moving again anytime soon at all.
Today was the day I spent with my kids. It went decently well. I hardly saw my son at all. He wanted to spend the day with a friend and not with me, and when he returned tonight, he didn’t want to talk to me. Something’s bothering him and I don’t yet know what it is, but I think it has something to do with the divorce.
When my ex and I divorced last year, we had stipulated joint custody in the agreement, with the kids being at my place and my ex’s place every other day. But the first night at my place, the kids wanted to go back home, and we let them. My ex got to keep the house, and to two young children, my apartment must have been a scary place. Well, they soon got used to it because my ex made it clear that we weren’t going to “traumatize” the kids by forcing them to do something upsetting to them regarding the divorce. Being so submissive, I gave in. Then I started falling into the clinical depression, the first serious signs hitting even before I was laid off, and my ex and I decided that the children should stay at their old place most of the time because my emotional condition wasn’t best for them. I gave in and … it became the norm. During this last summer I was seeing my kids almost every other day, but they haven’t slept under the same roof with me since my divorce a year and a half ago. As things are now, because of all that’s going on (particularly with the move), during the last month I’ve usually only seen my kids one day a week, and only for around eight hours each of those days, more or less. My ex sometimes complains about having the kids too much, but all-in-all I think my ex wants the kids to get used to me not being around. I should be fighting it but … I don’t know how. Part of me agrees because I’m still mentally unstable. But I miss my kids so much some times I can’t stop crying.
I’m not the only slave in this situation. I know of another slave in the Denver area a little younger than I am who only sees her children about once a month. I don’t know her situation, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s sadly similar.
Well, today was a lot of fun with my seven-year-old daughter, at least. We went to the annual Pumpkin Festival at Four Mile Historic Park in Denver, which celebrates life in Colorado’s pioneer days. I dressed up in my pseudo-Old-West clothes (tall boots, a long brown dress, a white button-up blouse and a tan frilled shawl), and I had expected my daughter to do the same because she also loves Old West stuff, but instead she went as a cat – which for her meant wearing a great sweatsuit with a nametag she made that says she’s a member of the “council of cats”. She was, naturally, adorable the whole time. *smiles* We rode on a really bumpy ride in a covered wagon, and ate sugar cookies from a wood-burning stove, and talked with fur trappers (*sighs and grumbles*), and drank root beer, and listened to silly music, and played with antique toys, and I learned to walk on stilts and my daughter was in a sack race and a “carry-the-egg-in-the-spoon” race, and (my daughter’s favorite part) we panned for gold using real equipment, and I taught her (and a bunch of other kids there) techniques an actual gold panner taught me years ago, and my daughter brought home several large chunks of (fool’s) gold at the end of the day! So even though I don’t see my kids a lot, at least I try to make my time with them as good as possible.
Well, Mistress just came back, so I’d better get this logged and get to bed. We’re going over tomorrow morning to play with two of her submissive friends, and even though I may not be playing that much, I need to get some sleep.
Oh … I was going to talk about the fact that the married couple came over again the day before yesterday with Mistress’s Master, and they all did things I’m not privy to inside of Mistress’s bedroom. I do know Mistress’s was forced to suck her Master’s cock in front of the couple as his way of showing off his property to them.
And I know that I had to give Mistress an enema before the couple arrived. Which brings up a rather gross topic I was going to cover in this entry, but I’ll save it for next time.
Until then, toodles!
La kajira!!!
p.s. With any luck, as I try to sleep I won’t be thinking tonight about a disturbing short story I read online tonight about an intelligent woman who is gradually turned into an ultra-horny imbecile with a body so super feminine it’s a pure caricature. The woman hates what’s happening because she has a family and friends and is a college swimmer, but it’s done purely because of the psychopathic desires of a crazed woman who traps her into the process. I know some people really get turned on by such stories, and I have to admit that I’m turned on, but in a way that’s very disturbing and may possibly give me nightmares tonight.
I can’t read a story and think “it’s just a story.” To me, fiction and reality often blur in my mind, at least in my emotional responses. But then, I admit I’m not the most emotionally healthy woman on the planet.
If you want to read it (and I hope you do) you can find it at: "An Untangling of Threads"
Yes, it’s not the longest story in the world, nor the most complex. But I had fun with it. I stayed up late and wrote it in one setting, and I’m rather pleased with it for what it is, no more and no less.
The pleasure I got from writing that makes me feel I truly need to get back to working on my novel. My dearly departed novel. For almost two years I worked religiously on it, and reached the final few chapters before … running out of steam. Well, that’s not the best description for what happened. In truth, I became distracted. After a year and a half absence, I rediscovered SecondLife. After my divorce in March of last year, I soon became more and more addicted to SecondLife, to the exclusion of my novel (and other pursuits). The death blow for my novel was when I was laid off in May of last year, and I sunk into a clinical depression which I’m only now finally clawing out of, almost a year and a half later. When that happened, my addiction to SecondLife became complete, and for almost a year it truly became my life, my escape from a reality I couldn’t emotionally face.
SecondLife is truly like a drug. I got into SecondLife because I couldn’t face reality. And because SecondLife seems so wonderful, it makes the real world seem awful by comparison. Well, it does when you’re addicted, when you find the real world to be one that you hate, and you lie awake at night wishing you were dead. That’s how I was back then. Fortunately, I’m much better now.
Still, though, even though I’m not addicted to SecondLife anymore, I’ve moved on. I’m a much different person because of what I’ve experienced. A year and a half ago I was planning on marrying a wonderful man in Kentucky who is half my age. Now I’m Owned by a Mistress with no plans to change my situation. That man I loved (and still love deeply) was a writer and was my editor, and he still desires to be that should I ever pick my novel back up.
Lately, though, I simply haven’t had time. No, of course, that’s not true. I simply haven’t made the novel a priority. Even as a slave, I’m sure I could write it, because my Mistress knows of it and would most likely approve.
I could have written in it tonight if not for SecondLife, of course. *sighs*
Yeah. I was in SecondLife tonight. I feel like I just finished a weird little vacation.
Mistress is out tonight with a female friend, attending a BDSM mixer “munch” in Longmont. Mistress’s Master will likely be there, so she gave me the full choice of whether I wanted to go or stay here and simply enjoy myself doing whatever I wanted.
If she had been alone, I would have gone with her, but I sensed she wanted to be with her female friend, and so … I stayed at home and undertook the guilty pleasure known as SecondLife.
*shrugs*
It’s not as intense as it used to be. But then, I was only in it for a few hours tonight, and I used to live in SecondLife for usually eight to twelve hours a day, every day.
I feel a bit tired and mentally exhausted, and I have a slight headache. I think I’ve gotten mentally out of shape in able to live in a virtual world for long periods of time.
Tonight I was a puppet – a marionette – like I have been the last few times I’ve been in SecondLife. I interacted with people on Doll Island, Doll Works and a store named “Dirty Dollies,” but the roleplaying wasn’t deep. Instead, it was like we were at a costume party, and all of us were having fun interacting with each other.
In contrast, when I would roleplay in Gor, I felt like I was really there, because the roleplaying was psychologically overwhelming at times.
Looking back, I find it amazing that I spent three hours in there tonight because so little happened. I chatted with people here and there and played a bit and talked about music, all while pretending to be a marionette. I had some fun with K-8 (the author of the blog at consciousobject.livejournal.com), and this time I was a bit more eloquent.
*shrugs again*
I did, however, get the chance to pass out a few copies of my new story.
So far nobody on www.stuckposting.com has commented at all on my story. Actually, they haven’t commented on anything I’ve written there. Oh, well.
Along with writing the story, most of my time the two days before today were taken up with moving. And, yes, we’re still not done yet. Not only are there still a lot of little (and not so little) things at the old house, but the new place is full of boxes stacked up on top of each other, and it still definitely needs a lot of work to become a normal house. I simply cannot imagine us moving again anytime soon at all.
Today was the day I spent with my kids. It went decently well. I hardly saw my son at all. He wanted to spend the day with a friend and not with me, and when he returned tonight, he didn’t want to talk to me. Something’s bothering him and I don’t yet know what it is, but I think it has something to do with the divorce.
When my ex and I divorced last year, we had stipulated joint custody in the agreement, with the kids being at my place and my ex’s place every other day. But the first night at my place, the kids wanted to go back home, and we let them. My ex got to keep the house, and to two young children, my apartment must have been a scary place. Well, they soon got used to it because my ex made it clear that we weren’t going to “traumatize” the kids by forcing them to do something upsetting to them regarding the divorce. Being so submissive, I gave in. Then I started falling into the clinical depression, the first serious signs hitting even before I was laid off, and my ex and I decided that the children should stay at their old place most of the time because my emotional condition wasn’t best for them. I gave in and … it became the norm. During this last summer I was seeing my kids almost every other day, but they haven’t slept under the same roof with me since my divorce a year and a half ago. As things are now, because of all that’s going on (particularly with the move), during the last month I’ve usually only seen my kids one day a week, and only for around eight hours each of those days, more or less. My ex sometimes complains about having the kids too much, but all-in-all I think my ex wants the kids to get used to me not being around. I should be fighting it but … I don’t know how. Part of me agrees because I’m still mentally unstable. But I miss my kids so much some times I can’t stop crying.
I’m not the only slave in this situation. I know of another slave in the Denver area a little younger than I am who only sees her children about once a month. I don’t know her situation, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s sadly similar.
Well, today was a lot of fun with my seven-year-old daughter, at least. We went to the annual Pumpkin Festival at Four Mile Historic Park in Denver, which celebrates life in Colorado’s pioneer days. I dressed up in my pseudo-Old-West clothes (tall boots, a long brown dress, a white button-up blouse and a tan frilled shawl), and I had expected my daughter to do the same because she also loves Old West stuff, but instead she went as a cat – which for her meant wearing a great sweatsuit with a nametag she made that says she’s a member of the “council of cats”. She was, naturally, adorable the whole time. *smiles* We rode on a really bumpy ride in a covered wagon, and ate sugar cookies from a wood-burning stove, and talked with fur trappers (*sighs and grumbles*), and drank root beer, and listened to silly music, and played with antique toys, and I learned to walk on stilts and my daughter was in a sack race and a “carry-the-egg-in-the-spoon” race, and (my daughter’s favorite part) we panned for gold using real equipment, and I taught her (and a bunch of other kids there) techniques an actual gold panner taught me years ago, and my daughter brought home several large chunks of (fool’s) gold at the end of the day! So even though I don’t see my kids a lot, at least I try to make my time with them as good as possible.
Well, Mistress just came back, so I’d better get this logged and get to bed. We’re going over tomorrow morning to play with two of her submissive friends, and even though I may not be playing that much, I need to get some sleep.
Oh … I was going to talk about the fact that the married couple came over again the day before yesterday with Mistress’s Master, and they all did things I’m not privy to inside of Mistress’s bedroom. I do know Mistress’s was forced to suck her Master’s cock in front of the couple as his way of showing off his property to them.
And I know that I had to give Mistress an enema before the couple arrived. Which brings up a rather gross topic I was going to cover in this entry, but I’ll save it for next time.
Until then, toodles!
La kajira!!!
p.s. With any luck, as I try to sleep I won’t be thinking tonight about a disturbing short story I read online tonight about an intelligent woman who is gradually turned into an ultra-horny imbecile with a body so super feminine it’s a pure caricature. The woman hates what’s happening because she has a family and friends and is a college swimmer, but it’s done purely because of the psychopathic desires of a crazed woman who traps her into the process. I know some people really get turned on by such stories, and I have to admit that I’m turned on, but in a way that’s very disturbing and may possibly give me nightmares tonight.
I can’t read a story and think “it’s just a story.” To me, fiction and reality often blur in my mind, at least in my emotional responses. But then, I admit I’m not the most emotionally healthy woman on the planet.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Day 52 - On Depression, Money Issues, Power Exchange, Car Problems, Marionettes and Paying Things Forward
I hate having clinical depression. And, yes, I’ve got it. And most likely, Aspeger’s Syndrome, which is like being autistic except being able to function in society. Actually, it’s exactly like that, because that’s what it is. Oh, and I also suffer mood disorders to the level that my psychologist believes I suffer low-level bi-polarism. So, yeah, my brain’s fucked up. I’ve read the blogs of a few other full-time slaves, and a lot of them suffer similar problems. Am I saying that you have to be screwed in the head to be a slave? No, not at all. But I do think that people who have problems dealing with the complexities of life sometimes find solace in being able to give control to somebody they trust.
Depression sucks. Imagine walking down the street and suddenly tasting extremely strong espresso while you’re eating a hamburger. Or hearing the clash of cymbals while listening to a violin concerto. Today I was feeling wonderful about life, and I was thinking of how I’m blessed in so many ways – and I suddenly started feeling overwhelmingly sad and burst into tears, and felt that way for a long time.
It also hit last night … which sucked big time. Mistress knows how much I’ve been wanting to get tied up, but she hasn’t done it in earnest, and so last night she decided to give me a treat. She tied my hands to my knees with me lying in bed, and then tied my wrists together so I couldn’t move, and proceeded to take a dildo to my vagina and a vibrator to my clit and ... I didn’t enjoy it because I had been suffering a low-level depression all day. Being tied up and lightly tortured is supposed to be a weird release based around the discomfort being turned into a thrill, but ... my depression kept that from happening, and instead I started crying. And the fact I didn’t enjoy what Mistress did for me greatly disappointed her, and the fact I wasn't enjoying it pissed the hell out of me because I had been wanting for a long time for Mistress to tie me up, and the fact that it happened on a night I wasn't emotionally stable made me even more depressed. Mistress says she’ll tie me up again someday here, but she doesn’t know when. *sighs*
Asperger’s causes me to feel incredibly confused and scared when I’m in a situation that’s overly chaotic, and as a result I feel like running away and hiding. And if I can’t run away, I get all upset and angry. Basic fight or flight syndrome exhibited by a wild animal in a tense situation. And being bi-polar shifts me up and down without control.
Mistress knew all that about me when she collared me. And she took me in anyway. Which is why, despite the problems we may have, I love her dearly.
And, yes, we do have problems. Definitely.
For example, today Mistress reminded me that I’ll need to pay my half of the rent soon. As things are, I pay for the cable and Internet bills, half the rent and another $75 for storage space away from the house. Mistress pays for heating, water and half the rent. And yet, my possessions take up only a small fraction of the house – a few boxes in the garage and a few boxes in an upstairs room. And I have pretty much no say regarding finances or any of the big matters, such as the fact we moved out of the old house into this townhome. Plus, as a slave, I’m doing most of the chores around the house, and I provide Mistress with sexual pleasure whenever she desires. We’re both on unemployment, but Mistress is able to work odd jobs for extra cash here and there, while I can’t. Even more, my duties as a slave sometimes get a little in the way of my search for employment.
Do I feel like my submissiveness and slave heart are being exploited? Yes, sometimes I do. Maybe.
In a non-fiction book entitled, “Separating Fact from Fiction: The Life of a Consensual Slave in the 21st Century” By Shannon Reilly, she says, “As equals, the members of a consensual slavery relationship will exchange power with each other, giving and taking that power in a constant flow. Power is neither created nor destroyed in power exchange relationships. Rather two equals remain equal while power flows between them.”
Mistress controls my life to a large degree. Not as much as I want, but she does impart control. And she takes responsibility for me, taking care of my needs. I’d prefer the relationship was much stronger, in that I could totally give up myself and almost all control in exchange for being able to be nothing but a slave almost all the time. Mistress, however, doesn’t want that. She told me tonight she still struggles with the word “slave” (despite all the talks we had a month ago), and she doesn’t think we’ll ever be in a situation where she’ll support me financially. *sighs* Such is life. Mistress is the best Owner I’ve found, and the only one where the mutual attraction has been strong enough to result in us living together, so I should count my blessings, without a doubt. There might be a better Owner out there for me, and there might be a better slave out there for Mistress. But, for now, we’re going to try our darn best to make this work for as long as possible. The way Mistress puts it, she and I satisfy each other’s needs, and that’s why things work. I hope so.
For a while today I was confused about Mistress, because she seemed to be both too much of a sadist and too concerned with not hurting me at the same time. Communication solved the puzzle. The answer was simple. See, she loves to pinch my nipples really hard until I cringe, and she loves to spank me unexpectedly. Yet, last night, when she tied me up for fun (as I mentioned earlier), she started to ram a silicon dildo in my pussy, but wouldn’t do it for fear of hurting me. And when my arms started getting a little sore when I was tied up the other day (for the benefit of the couple that had visited), she immediately untied me, even though I didn’t want her to. She said the difference is that with nipple pinches and spanking, she knows she won’t do permanent damage. It’s “known territory.” But with thrusting large things into my genitalia or potentially hurting my arm muscles, she said it’s “unknown territory” in which she’s afraid of causing actual damage to her property. So Mistress is a bit of a sadist, but she’s a caring one, in that she wants to keep her property safe and in good shape. Which is perfectly fine with me. *grins*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m not automotive savvy, I hate to say. Mistress got me hooked up with a male friend who said he could fix my car for cheap. Well, turns out one of the belts was broken, and he replaced it and another that was frayed for $25 plus the cost of the belts. It was a great deal ... except suddenly I don’t have power steering, and I had had it before he started working on it.
Mistress just got off the phone with him. She knows cars pretty well, and she was able to talk shop with him. She can’t think of anything he could have done wrong, but she’s going to look under my hood to check his work tomorrow. I just know I have my car working again, but it’s suddenly hard as hell to turn the wheel, and I don’t trust the abilities of Mistress’s friend. Whatever the case, Mistress said she’ll deal with it.
Mistress had car problems of her own today and called to me for help. She rear-ended a pickup, which bent up the fender of her own pickup like crazy and hardly damaged the other person’s truck. She was so shaken up afterward she couldn’t drive, and she was a half hour from home. She called me first and then called her Master, and her Master happened to respond first, and he agreed to take her home, and she asked me to drive down and move her car somewhere safe. I decided she really needed something to calm her down, and I made an Irish coffee (whiskey, hot cream, sugar and coffee) and started driving down to see her. Half-way there she called and said her Master would handle everything, but she did gladly imbibe the hot toddy when she got home tonight, and she’s feeling quite relaxed at the moment, so I figure I did my proper duties as best I could. *shrugs and slightly grins*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One a final note about money, a couple of nice things happened the last few days.
Today I was in the supermarket and I bought a cooked chicken for dinner for five bucks. Then when I checked out, I realized to my frustration that I had left my money wallet at home and so it wasn’t in my purse, and I had to tell the clerk to void the sale. Well, an extremely nice man who was a total stranger overheard the conversation, and he asked what happened, and he very generously pulled a five-dollar bill out of his billfold and said he’d pay for my purchase. Talk about shock on my part! I was extremely grateful and told him I’d pay it forward and return the good deed to somebody else, and he just told me with a smile not to worry about it!
And last weekend I wrote to the makers of the blond marionette I have and told them I was working on a play that I want to perform for kids in the community at libraries and schools, and they wrote me back and told me they would sell me any of their marionettes at wholesale prices, which is truly a great deal!
Oh, yeah ... I’m working on a play! In the back of a great little book on creating marionettes (“Marionettes: How to Make and Work Them” by Helen Fling) is a quite simple and quite short puppet play, and I liked it so much I’ve been working on enhancing it into a complete one-person production. I’ll need to create some backdrops and the puppet stage along with finishing up writing the play, but I was concerned about making the necessary marionettes, and now that I can get six great storybook marionettes professionally made for cheap, I’m pretty darn happy about the whole thing!
And that’s how I’m going to try and pay things forward ... by writing and performing a marionette play for local children that not only encourages environmental awareness but also has a strong, brave, smart heroine. Wish me luck!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Before I sign out today, I wanted to mention a well-written blog by another live-in consensual slave, entited: Diary of a Contented BDSM Slave. I made a posting there today in response to her feelings of unease at how her Master took care of her physically when she was recently sick in bed. Here’s a snippet of what I wrote:
It's not easy being taken care of, indeed. I've known of more than one Master/slave relationship that fell apart because the Master truly enjoyed doing certain "chores" (such as cooking gourmet meals), and the slave felt indignation at seeing her Owner doing things for her that she felt she should be doing for him.
It all comes down to communication in the end. Sometimes, truly, the best way to serve is to allow yourself to be served.
When a Master serves his slave, he's not being less dominant in any way. He's likely being warm and loving. And he's also likely taking care of his property, as others have said.
If one's Master spent hours carefully polishing a beautiful sculpture, or repairing it should a piece fall off, is that being submissive? No, of course not. He's simply doing maintenance on his property.
And taking care of you when you're sick is him doing maintenance on you, his slave.
I pray that you get well soon, my sister. You'll be in our thoughts.
La kajira!
Depression sucks. Imagine walking down the street and suddenly tasting extremely strong espresso while you’re eating a hamburger. Or hearing the clash of cymbals while listening to a violin concerto. Today I was feeling wonderful about life, and I was thinking of how I’m blessed in so many ways – and I suddenly started feeling overwhelmingly sad and burst into tears, and felt that way for a long time.
It also hit last night … which sucked big time. Mistress knows how much I’ve been wanting to get tied up, but she hasn’t done it in earnest, and so last night she decided to give me a treat. She tied my hands to my knees with me lying in bed, and then tied my wrists together so I couldn’t move, and proceeded to take a dildo to my vagina and a vibrator to my clit and ... I didn’t enjoy it because I had been suffering a low-level depression all day. Being tied up and lightly tortured is supposed to be a weird release based around the discomfort being turned into a thrill, but ... my depression kept that from happening, and instead I started crying. And the fact I didn’t enjoy what Mistress did for me greatly disappointed her, and the fact I wasn't enjoying it pissed the hell out of me because I had been wanting for a long time for Mistress to tie me up, and the fact that it happened on a night I wasn't emotionally stable made me even more depressed. Mistress says she’ll tie me up again someday here, but she doesn’t know when. *sighs*
Asperger’s causes me to feel incredibly confused and scared when I’m in a situation that’s overly chaotic, and as a result I feel like running away and hiding. And if I can’t run away, I get all upset and angry. Basic fight or flight syndrome exhibited by a wild animal in a tense situation. And being bi-polar shifts me up and down without control.
Mistress knew all that about me when she collared me. And she took me in anyway. Which is why, despite the problems we may have, I love her dearly.
And, yes, we do have problems. Definitely.
For example, today Mistress reminded me that I’ll need to pay my half of the rent soon. As things are, I pay for the cable and Internet bills, half the rent and another $75 for storage space away from the house. Mistress pays for heating, water and half the rent. And yet, my possessions take up only a small fraction of the house – a few boxes in the garage and a few boxes in an upstairs room. And I have pretty much no say regarding finances or any of the big matters, such as the fact we moved out of the old house into this townhome. Plus, as a slave, I’m doing most of the chores around the house, and I provide Mistress with sexual pleasure whenever she desires. We’re both on unemployment, but Mistress is able to work odd jobs for extra cash here and there, while I can’t. Even more, my duties as a slave sometimes get a little in the way of my search for employment.
Do I feel like my submissiveness and slave heart are being exploited? Yes, sometimes I do. Maybe.
In a non-fiction book entitled, “Separating Fact from Fiction: The Life of a Consensual Slave in the 21st Century” By Shannon Reilly, she says, “As equals, the members of a consensual slavery relationship will exchange power with each other, giving and taking that power in a constant flow. Power is neither created nor destroyed in power exchange relationships. Rather two equals remain equal while power flows between them.”
Mistress controls my life to a large degree. Not as much as I want, but she does impart control. And she takes responsibility for me, taking care of my needs. I’d prefer the relationship was much stronger, in that I could totally give up myself and almost all control in exchange for being able to be nothing but a slave almost all the time. Mistress, however, doesn’t want that. She told me tonight she still struggles with the word “slave” (despite all the talks we had a month ago), and she doesn’t think we’ll ever be in a situation where she’ll support me financially. *sighs* Such is life. Mistress is the best Owner I’ve found, and the only one where the mutual attraction has been strong enough to result in us living together, so I should count my blessings, without a doubt. There might be a better Owner out there for me, and there might be a better slave out there for Mistress. But, for now, we’re going to try our darn best to make this work for as long as possible. The way Mistress puts it, she and I satisfy each other’s needs, and that’s why things work. I hope so.
For a while today I was confused about Mistress, because she seemed to be both too much of a sadist and too concerned with not hurting me at the same time. Communication solved the puzzle. The answer was simple. See, she loves to pinch my nipples really hard until I cringe, and she loves to spank me unexpectedly. Yet, last night, when she tied me up for fun (as I mentioned earlier), she started to ram a silicon dildo in my pussy, but wouldn’t do it for fear of hurting me. And when my arms started getting a little sore when I was tied up the other day (for the benefit of the couple that had visited), she immediately untied me, even though I didn’t want her to. She said the difference is that with nipple pinches and spanking, she knows she won’t do permanent damage. It’s “known territory.” But with thrusting large things into my genitalia or potentially hurting my arm muscles, she said it’s “unknown territory” in which she’s afraid of causing actual damage to her property. So Mistress is a bit of a sadist, but she’s a caring one, in that she wants to keep her property safe and in good shape. Which is perfectly fine with me. *grins*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m not automotive savvy, I hate to say. Mistress got me hooked up with a male friend who said he could fix my car for cheap. Well, turns out one of the belts was broken, and he replaced it and another that was frayed for $25 plus the cost of the belts. It was a great deal ... except suddenly I don’t have power steering, and I had had it before he started working on it.
Mistress just got off the phone with him. She knows cars pretty well, and she was able to talk shop with him. She can’t think of anything he could have done wrong, but she’s going to look under my hood to check his work tomorrow. I just know I have my car working again, but it’s suddenly hard as hell to turn the wheel, and I don’t trust the abilities of Mistress’s friend. Whatever the case, Mistress said she’ll deal with it.
Mistress had car problems of her own today and called to me for help. She rear-ended a pickup, which bent up the fender of her own pickup like crazy and hardly damaged the other person’s truck. She was so shaken up afterward she couldn’t drive, and she was a half hour from home. She called me first and then called her Master, and her Master happened to respond first, and he agreed to take her home, and she asked me to drive down and move her car somewhere safe. I decided she really needed something to calm her down, and I made an Irish coffee (whiskey, hot cream, sugar and coffee) and started driving down to see her. Half-way there she called and said her Master would handle everything, but she did gladly imbibe the hot toddy when she got home tonight, and she’s feeling quite relaxed at the moment, so I figure I did my proper duties as best I could. *shrugs and slightly grins*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One a final note about money, a couple of nice things happened the last few days.
Today I was in the supermarket and I bought a cooked chicken for dinner for five bucks. Then when I checked out, I realized to my frustration that I had left my money wallet at home and so it wasn’t in my purse, and I had to tell the clerk to void the sale. Well, an extremely nice man who was a total stranger overheard the conversation, and he asked what happened, and he very generously pulled a five-dollar bill out of his billfold and said he’d pay for my purchase. Talk about shock on my part! I was extremely grateful and told him I’d pay it forward and return the good deed to somebody else, and he just told me with a smile not to worry about it!
And last weekend I wrote to the makers of the blond marionette I have and told them I was working on a play that I want to perform for kids in the community at libraries and schools, and they wrote me back and told me they would sell me any of their marionettes at wholesale prices, which is truly a great deal!
Oh, yeah ... I’m working on a play! In the back of a great little book on creating marionettes (“Marionettes: How to Make and Work Them” by Helen Fling) is a quite simple and quite short puppet play, and I liked it so much I’ve been working on enhancing it into a complete one-person production. I’ll need to create some backdrops and the puppet stage along with finishing up writing the play, but I was concerned about making the necessary marionettes, and now that I can get six great storybook marionettes professionally made for cheap, I’m pretty darn happy about the whole thing!
And that’s how I’m going to try and pay things forward ... by writing and performing a marionette play for local children that not only encourages environmental awareness but also has a strong, brave, smart heroine. Wish me luck!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Before I sign out today, I wanted to mention a well-written blog by another live-in consensual slave, entited: Diary of a Contented BDSM Slave. I made a posting there today in response to her feelings of unease at how her Master took care of her physically when she was recently sick in bed. Here’s a snippet of what I wrote:
It's not easy being taken care of, indeed. I've known of more than one Master/slave relationship that fell apart because the Master truly enjoyed doing certain "chores" (such as cooking gourmet meals), and the slave felt indignation at seeing her Owner doing things for her that she felt she should be doing for him.
It all comes down to communication in the end. Sometimes, truly, the best way to serve is to allow yourself to be served.
When a Master serves his slave, he's not being less dominant in any way. He's likely being warm and loving. And he's also likely taking care of his property, as others have said.
If one's Master spent hours carefully polishing a beautiful sculpture, or repairing it should a piece fall off, is that being submissive? No, of course not. He's simply doing maintenance on his property.
And taking care of you when you're sick is him doing maintenance on you, his slave.
I pray that you get well soon, my sister. You'll be in our thoughts.
La kajira!
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