Archive for January, 2008


January 29th, 2008 No comments

I’ve been thinking a lot about how things used to be. When Master and I first got together and I thought everything was going to be easy peasy. When I still refused to admit that I was a slave. When I was still trying to pretend I was a bedroom submissive, yet asking permission before I so much as took a breath.

He used to let me sleep in. Well, after the company He worked for was bought and He changed offices and I couldn’t go to the office with Him anymore. The alarm clock was on my side of the bed so I had to wake up just long enough to make sure He got out of bed and then I could go back to sleep. He’d get Himself ready for work, reset the alarm if He had a specific time He wanted me up, come kiss me good bye and head off to work.

He usually left instructions. What time I was supposed to call, what I was supposed to do. Generally speaking, I could do whatever I wanted provided none of it broke the rules I begged Him to give me. While still claiming I was simply submissive.

No more drugs. No drinking without Him around. No sleeping around. And while everyone thought this must put a serious cramp in my style, I was relieved. I was happy. I was content to let Him make my decisions for me, good or bad, and save me from the constant explosions that kept me walking on broken glass nonstop.

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Age Play Fantasy… Sort of

January 26th, 2008 No comments

There are a lot of these little fantasies like this in my journal. I figured I’d share an excerpt from one with you today.

I want to dress myself in the cutest little baby doll pink dress made for an eight or nine year old and paint my nails baby doll pink to match the dress. Patent leather Maryjanes… white. Pigtails with lots of curls and big pink ribbons.

I want to be sitting in the pinkest, frilliest bedroom with canopies and unicorns. Little pink and purple castles and tiny princesses in the finest gowns. In an open wardrobe made of white oak will hang dress up princess gowns complete with tiara, among other things, the least of which being a sexy little devil costume complete with red fishnet stockings and CFM pumps.

I sit in the center of the bed as You walk in the room. The chain depending from my throat clinks as it resettles when I take in a breath.

You walk toward me and I stare in awe. Your eyes rake my form more times than a few before You throw me to the bed and tear my pretty dress…

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Grace? That’s what you say before dinner, right?

January 22nd, 2008 No comments

I’m clumsy. Really, that’s putting it lightly.

Growing up, things that required patience and grace held no interest for me. I wanted what I wanted right now and I wasn’t willing to practice walking with a book on my head to get it. The end result is that I’m clumsy. I trip over things that aren’t there. I ignore the lack of space between me and other objects and knock things over. My feet slide out from under me from lack of searching for good footing before shifting my weight. I rush around so much that sometimes I have trouble playing video games. I go too fast, die a hundred times and give up before I realize that if I just slow down I would do okay.

So it was no surprise, really, when I eventually dropped the anniversary present I got for Master this year. It wasn’t even much of a surprise when it shattered into a million pieces. However, it was heartbreaking. And it was a surprise when Master said He was going to beat me for it.

When we first got together, He would yell at me constantly because I was always bumping into things. Inanimate things like walls and chairs and doors. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see them. It was that I was moving so fast by the time I realized I was too close that I couldn’t veer away fast enough. It still happens sometimes. This mostly means scraped arms and legs and sometimes broken objects. But He’s never beaten me for it.

He said, “Maybe you’ll learn to slow down and watch what you’re doing and how you hold things after this.”

I guess it worked. At least some. Last night, when making dinner, instead of just plunging my hand into everything and trying to pull things from the back out, I moved things out of the way and then put them back when I was finished. This morning, when making breakfast, instead of trying to reach through the cinnamon, brown sugar, tuna fish and a few other things, open the oatmeal box and pull the packets through all those items again, I pulled each item from the shelf, got out the oatmeal and placed each item (mostly) how I found them (which is also how I left them). An old dog can learn new tricks, I suppose.

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Keep Away…

January 17th, 2008 No comments

The other day Master and I were talking about my big mouth. Not how mouthy I am, but how I tend to blurt out every tiny detail that enters my mind without first considering the consequences. Namely things that I really. Do. Not. Want. To. Do.

Now, mind you, I’ve been trained that self-censorship and/or self-preservation are bad. Yet He says to me… “One of these days you’ll smarten up and stop telling me what you really don’t want to do.” I glance up at Him and He finishes by saying “It only makes me want to make you do it all the more. Did you forget that I’m a sadist?” (Well, actually He asked if I forgot He was a masochist but I knew what He meant. We spent about two days of “I’m a masochist. You’ll get beat when I feel like beating you.” followed by incessant giggles and a tormented, “You know what I mean!!!”)

In a relationship based on full disclosure, hearing “Stop telling me what you don’t want to do.” is a hard pill to swallow. With orders, I can understand that stance. My father, ever the military man, took it when we were growing up. “I didn’t ask what you wanted to do. Do as you’re told.” I can imagine where hearing “But I don’t want to.” after giving a slave an order can be tiresome. But I’m talking fantasies and scene ideas! Isn’t my input important??!?

The short answer is no, it isn’t. My input doesn’t change what He will enjoy, except maybe to make Him enjoy it all the more knowing I don’t want to be doing what I’m doing. My input doesn’t change anything except putting me in an awkward position in which my soul is laid bare and He’s pulling the strings needed to deepen my vulnerability and discomfort.

So what do I do? Do I take His advice and stop telling Him when I don’t want to do something? I feel like that’s self-censoring and self-preservation. And I feel like it’s dishonest. So I just sort of go with the flow. What comes out of my mouth comes out. I’m more comfortable that way. And besides… it’s fun (I originally typed “It’s fuck”… we know what’s on my mind!) to watch His eyes light up with yet another idea of how to make me miserable while making my pussy drip.

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January 15th, 2008 No comments

For some reason last night I started going through old emails. From like 2003. And I realized we’ve hooked up with some shady chicks. I mean, seriously… nothing but game players.

One girl was dating someone in real life and lying to Master about it.

One was swearing she was finished with the man who owned her when we met her. The circumstances behind their relationship became too much for her (supposedly) and she wanted Master to own her because He seemed to be everything she was looking for. Then she disappeared… and the reason she disappeared is because the man she never left had changed her name. When she turned up again naturally it was our fault and she was horribly rotten about pointing it out.

Another wanted protection but couldn’t seem to follow the very rules she asked to have put on her.

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Gorean? A slave’s experience-based opinion…

January 10th, 2008 No comments

I’m not sure we can really consider ourselves “Gorean” anymore. I’m not entirely convinced we ever really were. We share a great many philosophies with the books and spent a bit of time in the rooms but things just sort of fizzled out and we’re back to doing things the way we’ve always done them. Hit and miss, I guess. I think I’ve said all that before.

One of the reasons Master delved into Gorean channels is because of the ridiculousness we dealt with in BDSM channels. We were assured by an old friend that the “slaves” of Gor would never even dream of treating Master the way the older submissives treated him: claiming they were smarter and knew more than Him because they were older; telling Him to sit back and shut up while they told Him “the way things are™”; snarking any dominant they didn’t consider to be “real” or strong enough or manly enough or old enough in public channel as well as in private conversations; trying to talk submissives out of relationships with people they viewed as abusive without knowing all the details… The atrocities go on and on.

You find these behaviors in all walks of BDSM (Much to both sides’ chagrin, Gor does fall under the category of BDSM.), and probably all walks of life, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. On one website we belong to, which caters to BDSM masters and slaves (but also accepts switches, dom/mes and subs) and many believe similarly to Master and I, we’ve had submissives exclaim how much better they are than me, tell Master how ignorant He is, order Master to “handle” me because they think I’m out of line in the way I speak to them. In a channel or two, we’ve had disgruntled “slaves” launch all out wars between Master and their owners (and their owners’ friends) over things like Master refusing to be treated like a slave Himself by a submissive, treating other slaves as He treats me (like a bauble rather than a precious gem), or just plain saying something the “slave” didn’t like. That’s neither here nor there.

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