Home > rayne > Fear? A four letter word.

Fear? A four letter word.

January 17th, 2007

I read a story once, a true story, written by a slave whose Master was a little more into humiliation than I am.  A little more sadistic than I’m comfortable with.  And it’s hard admitting that and knowing that if Master went that way I’d submit.  I’d cry and I’d beg and I’d probably lock myself inside myself for a while and never be the same again, but I’d submit.

But His humiliation and sadistic nature had nothing to do with physical pain or lewd behavior.  It was all emotionally and mentally based.  An example: He tied his slave to a bed in a spare room and brought home a woman to fuck.  He fucked the stranger in their bed, and then when they were finished, he brought the woman into the spare bedroom and showed her his slave.  After forcing her to lick them both clean, they both began to mock her.  Most of this I could endure, even get off on.  It was the things they said to her that would have killed me.

They told her she wasn’t woman enough to satisfy her man.  That he turned to other women because she was incapable of pleasing him.  That even this stranger, who was a prostitute, had a tighter pussy than his slave, who was a virgin when she met him.  They spent the rest of the day making sure his slave knew that this prostitute meant more to him, pleased him more, was worth more than his slave.

They were husband and wife before they were master and slave.  Master and I were Master and slave before we were husband and wife and even imagining this being done to me makes me want to slit my wrists.  Maybe because we were Master and slave before we were husband and wife? Maybe because it’s been so ingrained into my very being that I am here to serve and please? Maybe just because He means so much to me?

What’s worse is that I would be incredibly turned on by it.  I’d be sitting there completely destroyed emotionally and my pussy would be dripping wet.  That screws with my head a bit.

I had a dream once that He decided He wanted a vanilla life and a vanilla family but He wanted to keep me.  To keep me locked away somewhere to play with whenever He wanted.  So He divorced me.  And He married another woman.  And she knew about His slave in the basement, and when He was at work she would come down and beat the shit out of me. She’d do horrible things to me.

He’d get home from work and ask what happened.  She’d tell Him I did those things to myself and He’d always believe her over me.  On top of whatever she’d done to me during the course of the day, He’d punish me.

And how’s this for avoidance? I just can’t think about this anymore right now. 

I wrote the beginning of this entry at least a week ago.  I hope to finish it over the next couple of days and to get across the emotions that roil inside my stomach when I think about all the things that could be.  The biggest problem is thinking about the fear triggers the fear and I start to lose where my mood was moments before.  It’s not that I’m afraid of sharing Master.  I can share.  I’ll happily share.  God, I want to share.  I’m afraid of being hurt again.  I’m afraid that whomever He chooses will try to force me from His life.  It’s not an empty fear.  It’s happened before.  The attempt, I mean.

It’s not that I don’t know who He’ll choose in the long run.  I know that when it’s over, it’ll still be Him and me till the end.  It’s not that I’m afraid, really, that He’ll put someone else before me, though I’ve told Him that’s the majority of my fear.  I’m really bad about saying something, meaning it the way it makes sense to me, and thinking it makes sense to everyone else the same way.

There are things I don’t want to have to share.  Our TSO night every year, our wedding anniversary, that special bond we have, His pet names for me and flirty games.  It frustrates me when other girls feel the need to be involved in things that have been just Him and me for so long.  Nights I feel are special and sacred, and there’s some girl wanting His attention when we should, in my mind, be focused only on each other.

It’s selfish.  It’s a stance a slave probably shouldn’t have.  For isn’t it what the Master thinks is special and sacred that matters? Isn’t it about what He wants?

And I feel wretched for wanting to exclude girls who might one day be my chain-sister from “family” affairs such as these.  But at the same time, I view them as “mine”.  Odd, that.  I don’t view Him as mine.  He doesn’t belong to me.  But these day… These events that mark the years of our life together passing… These I do view as “mine”. And they’re no more mine than He is unless He deems it so.

There’s been more than one female who’s felt the need to invade on our private, special, sacred times together.  And on more than one occasion, I’ve gotten unbelievably angry over it.  And instead of behaving the way I should and saying something about it to Master and letting Him decide how to handle it or whether or not it should even bother me, I go on a tirade.  Stomping around, slamming doors, throwing things, snapping answers at Him when He asks questions… And in all this, I don’t know who I’m more angry with.  Her for invading, Him for allowing her to, or me for letting it affect me so.

Master doesn’t give in.  He doesn’t let me have what I want simply because I threw a temper tantrum.  In fact, sometimes He doesn’t allow me to have what I want for the very specific reason that I did throw a tantrum.  There has been more than one occasion in which He would have happily accommodated me because my desires didn’t affect His, but I was a bitch so He refused.

And this is the way it should be.  I should have privileges taken away and be punished for my actions.  I am not the type of slave that thrives in an inconsistent, lenient relationship.  When Master backs off, I spin out of control and things get messy until He reigns me in again.  We learned these things the hard way.  I have this image of the “vanilla woman” that is based solely on what I used to be like.  Unfortunately, I have to admit that before Master I never knew anyone well enough to base this on anyone else but myself.  When I was “vanilla”, I craved attention from my SO.  I had to have it.  And if anyone else got in the middle, I was pissed.  No matter who that “someone else” was.

I wanted to be first, before anything else, in their lives.  I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it and if I couldn’t have it I didn’t want them.  I was, without a doubt, a spoiled brat.

I’ve dated more than one guy who had more than one female in his life.  And if I was put on a backburner for another female, I walked away.  I wielded this control like a dangerous weapon and more often than not, I managed to make the men in my life push away all the other females and focus all of their attention on me until I grew bored with them and set them free.  And the only thing I can see happening in a situation in which Master is interested in a non-submissive woman is her pulling these stunts.  Trying to make Master jump through hoops to be with her.  And making serious attempts to make Him pay all of His attention to her and ignore me.  I can almost hear her (no specific “her”) hiss “She’s only a slave.  I’m free.  You should pay attention to me, not her.” with so much contempt…

That’s why I say I’m afraid of not being first.  That’s not entirely the truth of it.  I’m afraid of not being as important as any other girl who comes into His life.  I’m afraid of not meaning anything to Him.  I see how much time He has now, imagine another person coming into our life together, and imagine His time for me steadily decreasing until I’m no longer even in the middle of His mind, let alone at the forefront.

And I suppose this is an inappropriate worry for a slave to have as well.  But something He’s always promised me is that I would always be put before any other girl in the long run.  This is not to say He would deny some other girl things because I didn’t want her to have them, or that He would include me in decisions regarding other girls, or even that she wouldn’t be as important in His decision making process when something that affects all of us is concerned.  I’m not entirely sure what it means.  Except maybe that if the other girl made it impossible for us all to remain together for whatever reason, it would be her that would have to go and not me.

And even as I understand all of these things, I’m still terrified.  Not necessarily of some girl coming between us.  But of me not being able to control myself if I feel like she is, even if it’s an unwarranted feeling.  Or of her intentionally or unintentionally hurting either Master or me.  And if I get out of control, I have the privilege of knowing that Master will yank me back to my place and remind me where I stand.

The messed up thing is, when I go about expressing my emotions and fears the right way, He’s gentle and caring and tries to help me work through or around them.  But I still insist on doing everything the wrong way.  An Aries through and through, I guess.  Ramming my head into the wall repeatedly until I finally break through.  The problem is, this wall is made of impenetrable steel and braced with another wall.  I have to go around, shimmy between them, and push it down from the other direction.

And oddly enough, until now I just sort of ignored my fears.  When Master got to talking to another girl (slave or not) I’d sort of hide away for a day or so to let the tightening in my chest die down, and then talk to everyone again.  I wouldn’t attempt to work through it or around it.  I’d just pretend it wasn’t there.  Now that I’m ready to face  it, there’s no one to face it with.

And when did I gain the ability to admit to people that I’m scared? Isn’t fear a sign of weakness? How come I  don’t care?

What it all comes down to is none of this is my choice.  I recognize that.  I also recognize that I really don’t want it to be my choice.  Because I want to be a slave.  I need to be a slave.  And because a long time ago, I begged Master to stop allowing me to run away from things I find difficult.  Running away from difficult things would eventually lead to me running away from being a slave.  And I truly do not want that.

Master said something to me last night while we were discussing this post.  It was weird because after He said it you could have knocked me over with a feather even though it’s something I’ve known for ages.  I guess I thought that while He knew it He chose not to accept it or something.  That’s not entirely right… I can’t find the exact words to explain what I thought before I heard Him say it.

He said, “You and I both know that slavery isn’t fair.  There are going to be things along the way that you don’t like.  But it’s not your choice.  It’s your duty to accept that, obey, and move on.  The rest is up to me.”  (Maybe not those exact words, but close.)  And I fought tears.  It was like this strange weight lifted off of my shoulders.  Because that comment says that as long as I obey without question it’s okay for me to not particularly enjoy following an order (outside the obvious pleasure of being pleasing and obedient).  It tells me that my feelings, while sometimes irrelevant, are valid.  Weird how such a little thing can be so huge in the world of a slave.

If you’ve noticed vast changes in this post, you’re not insane.  Well, maybe you are, but the changes aren’t a part of your insanity.  It was brought to my attention that people took this original post as a bitching session, or something.  And then I was ordered to rewrite it to a) make it more of a reflection of Master’s and my relationship and b) make it sound less bitchy.  I don’t know if I’ve succeeded, but I’ve tried.

And for the record, I didn’t write this post yesterday.  It had been sitting in Word for a couple of days, simmering, before I finally decided to just put it up.  The timing was off, and the feelings weren’t currently relevant.  I put it up simply to get it off of my computer.  I’ll not be doing that again.

Categories: rayne Tags:
Comments are closed.
%d bloggers like this: