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Giving My All

March 9th, 2007

I wasn’t going to write about this. I wanted to. I needed to. But I know the general response to things like this is bad. So I avoided it. And finally, after reading one of kaya’s recent entries, I borrowed Master’s balls and decided to write about it. It’ll probably be censored. I’ve been ordered to wait until Master reads it to make it public. So if you’re reading this, He was pleased.

A few days ago, I alluded to there being something major I gave up in favor of becoming a slave. Originally, this wasn’t a choice I was forced to make. It wasn’t something He asked of me. It was just something I did. I was more interested in being with Him than having this other thing. I was better suited being His slave than being this other thing. And I was happy.

Eventually, it was enforced, expected. I said everything and He chose to collect. I don’t know, really, when the change happened. I just know that I followed willingly behind.

I could say He did it for me. That He was trying to save me from the emotional war that was playing in the background of our life together. To rescue me from all the pain I was going through. But that just wouldn’t be true.

He was tired of the games – true. He was tired of the emotional roller coaster I was on – true. But He was tired of it because it was detracting from the slave He deserved to have. It was causing my thoughts to be elsewhere and not focused entirely on Him. And that’s not acceptable in this life we’ve chosen to lead.

Finally, enough was enough.

Recently, I received a request to allow my ex’s new wife to adopt the kids. She wants to be their mother legally. And they want me out of the kids’ lives. My first reaction was extreme anger. The first paragraph in the letter is an outright lie. The rest of the letter is utter bull shit. And it all smacks of the usual head games my ex likes to play with me. It pissed me off.

And even while I thought, “You can’t hurt me anymore. I’m not vulnerable to these little tricks anymore.” I could feel myself getting madder and madder.

The first time Master spoke on the issue, it was stating His opinion. “I think you should do it.” And immediately, there was no other option in my mind.

There has been no grieving. I did that years ago when I realized how much trouble it was going to be to get my little family back. There has been a little guilt. I used to believe that if you brought someone into the world you had to face that responsibility. They’re my responsibility. This finally and legally passes that responsibility on to someone else. It’s not something I’m used to doing.

The biggest emotion, though, is relief. I’m not suited for motherhood. Maybe once upon a time, before I found out just how much I enjoy being owned, I was. Once upon a time is over. Being a mother isn’t something I can do anymore.

The decision was taken from me, though, almost as soon as Master stated His opinion. He began to tell me what I was going to say to my ex when I call. There’s a little bit of fear involved. If my children choose to seek me out in years and ask why I did what I did I’m not sure what my answer will be. The truth? There’s so much to the truth that not many would understand. But maybe that’s the best way. And maybe it’s something I’ll never be faced with. Maybe it won’t make any bit of difference in their lives. And that’s okay too.

kaya talked about TPE recently. About how total means all. About how some means part. And about what she would do should she face this very situation.

I am in a TPE relationship. There is no telling Master no. At present, I’m allowed to question orders that are detrimental to His or my health and/or well-being but I don’t hold to the belief that this will always be the case. You can argue that legally I can walk away whenever I want to or that a “good mother” would choose to raise her kids and then venture down the paths she wants to take. I’ve already admitted to not being a mother, good or otherwise. And I don’t give a damn about society’s law. The law that matters is Master’s law. And Master’s law says that I am not to leave His side without explicit permission and direction to where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to be doing.

In the end, the result’s the same. I’ve given freely everything I have to give. I am His. And He demands all of me. If that means locking me in a box, the only stimulation being the precious few moments He spares me to keep my focus where it belongs, show me the box so I can crawl in. This is my life. The life of an owned slave. 

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