And in all this, Iâ??ve accepted, mostly, that these are all
things Iâ??ve given Him the right to control. At the same time, I balk when I see
Him taking control. The wife part of me wants to scream â??But Iâ??m your wife!â?
while the slave part of me sits back and quietly accepts her fate. The slave
part usually wins. But the wife part sometimes needs a moment to collect
herself.

I guess I'll be going back to typing my blogs out in word. I
had a huge one for my Saturday entry typed out and the stupid website timed me
out while I was typing it. Apparently typing into the site doesn't count as not
being idle today. Blah.

The blog was about questions and how I'm not asking them
anymore. I got in trouble last night for repeating a question that wasn't
answered. Instead of coming back with some excuse for repeating myself, I just
shut up and pouted. But it opened the doors to other questions I won't be
asking.

It's not a complaint. It's just confusion, really. And a
little bit of hurt. Oddly, more and more things are hurting my feelings.
Feelings I didn't know I had.

I'm not doing well with things I'm not allowed to do or
have. It may just be my period but then it would have to happen no more than just
once a month and it does. Being a slave is slowly losing its ability to mesh
with being a wife. Maybe it never was able to and I just didn't see it. I've
always known that being wife comes second but I'm starting to wonder if I
shouldn't just step out of that role completely unless for some reason He needs
me in that role.

As He takes more and more away from me, I find myself
wondering how much longer it'll be before I'm no longer even a person. And then
I realize that already by society's definition I'm really not a person. I'm
livestock. Property. And that disqualifies me from the "human being"
category. Strangely, this doesn't bother me.

Some things do bother me, however. Enough that I allow them
to get me into trouble over and over again.

Eating out. He rarely ever takes me out anymore. And if He
does, it's usually when He goes to lunch with His coworker(s). I've started
countless arguments over it. I've even been refused the privilege of going out
with Him a time or two because of my tantrums.

The reality of it is His coworkers usually pay for His
lunch. Most times we don't have the time or money to go out. At least to the
places I want to go. And yet I still manage to turn it into some sort of
"You don't want to spend time with me."
thing, knowing that that's not it at all. And even if it was, that's His
prerogative! Who am I to whine about something that is His to do as He pleases
with anyway?

Free time. I have it. Not much, granted, but some. Probably
more than most slaves. And what I do have, He wants me to spend working. Heâ??s
always saying things like, â??Youâ??d think youâ??d spend your time writing instead
of looking at stupid videos or reading blogs.â? Or Heâ??ll get out right angry
because I spent my day goofing off and relaxing and not doing something
worthwhile.

I'm grateful that He's yet to regulate every moment of my
days, though I expect it won't be long in coming. Especially if I continue to
irritate Him by posting half-finished entries that seem to be complaints.
Especially if I continue to leave out important parts of things.

Material possessions. We went from getting me almost
everything we could afford that I wanted to buying everything we can afford
that He wants and if we can afford what I want then we pick that up too. Maybe.
If He feels I deserve it. Right down to new clothes.

I know slaves don't own anything. And I am living proof that
a spoiled slave isn't always a good thing. None of that is my point. I only
want to own my teddy bear 🙂

Sometimes, I feel myself getting frustrated at what I can't
have. What I don't deserve. What I have no right to. Usually only when there
seems no good reason for me not to have it. And I forget that Him not wanting
me to have them is the only reason needed.

And in all this, Iâ??ve accepted, mostly, that these are all
things Iâ??ve given Him the right to control. At the same time, I balk when I see
Him taking control. The wife part of me wants to scream â??But Iâ??m your wife!â?
while the slave part of me sits back and quietly accepts her fate. The slave
part usually wins. But the wife part sometimes needs a moment to collect
herself.

Sometimes I wonder if the BDSM+love naysayers weren't
completely dead on when they said marriage and love don't mix with a
Master/slave relationship. It's like, I know I'm a slave before I'm anything
else but sometimes I just really, really want to be a loved little… oh Jesus… haha. I don't even want to be the spoiled,
loved princess wife. The rest of that sentence was I just really want to be a
loved little pet.

I see things slowly changing in me. Things I would have
flipped out about two years ago I donâ??t even bat an eyelash at. Things that
used to make me feel unwanted or unloved no longer bother me. And I wonder if
maybe I am less human than I once was. Or maybe I wasnâ??t human at all?

What it all comes down to is Iâ??d much rather be a slave than
a wife and trying to be both completely fucks with my slavery. Itâ??s time I stop
worrying so much about being a wife and start worrying about being a slave. If
the wife persona is needed, Heâ??ll ask for it. Until He does, the wife can go
fuck herself 🙂

There are a few things Iâ??m hoping to get done today. We have
to go to the bank and to the store. He plans to go for a walk to take pictures
and exercise. Weâ??ve been walking every day. Iâ??ve lost ten pounds and regained
four. Hereâ??s hoping Iâ??ll lose ten more. Iâ??m hoping to dig up the front garden
and at least part of the vegetable garden so I can get my peppers in the
ground. I guess thatâ??s it.