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Worthless

June 28th, 2008 Comments off

My “Self-Loathing” post sparked some interesting reactions. People always get their hackles up when you mention being called worthless.

Master says my worth is ultimately judged by Him and no one else. It doesn’t matter that I’m a damn good worker. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been working a thankless job for ungrateful people at minimum wage for over a year. It wouldn’t matter if I was Angelina Jolie doing all the humanitarian work in the world and then breaking to get on the big screen before putting my African baby to bed and collapsing myself. It’s still His to decide whether I’m worth anything or not.

And that’s the way I like it. Because that makes dealing with my self-esteem problems a little easier. Only having to worry about what He thinks of me and not the rest of the handful of people I interact with on a daily basis quiets the niggling voices that go round and round in my head.

But it also serves other purposes.

Reminding me that He decides my worth works well for training purposes. It puts emphasis on trying to gain His good favor, and, by proxy, worth. It further increases the objectification we all strive for so much by making it imperative that I perform well to be seen as useful in His eyes. It reminds me that at any time I could be stripped of everything I view as “mine” and left completely to my own devices.

It also works well in humiliation play and sex. Not for everyone, mind. But for me. Sometimes there’s nothing I like to hear more than “You worthless little bitch. No one cares about you. I can do whatever I want with you and no one would give a shit.” Or any other combination of words basically saying the same thing. It’s not necessarily true. My job cares about me. If only because they’d be utterly screwed without me. A point I can’t wait to drive home if/when we ever get things straight financially.

Sometimes He says it when He’s angry. And those are the times I hate it. Because I’m already reciting it in my head. “Dumb, worthless cunt can’t get anything right. What the fuck is wrong with me? Will I ever do anything right? Stupid bitch. He’s gonna go find another slave who’s actually worth her salt. Dumb, worthless cunt.”

But sometimes I need to hear it from Him. As much as it breaks my heart. Sometimes I need to realize I’m getting cocky and treading in shark-infested waters. I need to be knocked down a notch or two. And the quickest way to do it is to tell me I’m worthless. It ties into that whole “People need different kinds of punishment.” thing.

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Seasonal Service

June 26th, 2008 Comments off

So a while back kaya re-posted a list of questions a slave can ask herself if she’s decided that her owner isn’t treating her the way he should. That in and of itself is sort of laughable. A slave deciding her owner isn’t treating her the way he should, I mean. But it’s something a lot of us worry about.

How come Master’s domination has changed so much? He used to do it this way and now He’s doing it that way. He used to beat me all the time and fuck me nonstop and actually ENJOY spending time with me and now, more often then not, He’s blowing me off or sending me to find something else to do with my time. Things are just… wonky!

Unfortunately, I can’t link to the list right now because the site’s down till the first. I’ll get a link up as soon as possible.

The first time I read it, I was pissed. How come it’s always my fault?? Don’t these masters ever take responsibility for their actions? And if they don’t, why should we? Aren’t they the example we’re supposed to be following?

The list forces a slave to look at her service (or lack thereof) with questions as simple as Has my service changed?

I read it again. And I read it again. And I started kicking myself.

Master and I try not to lay blame. Mostly because… well, it’s not really my place to say “You’re screwing up when you do this!!” Who am I to judge my owner? But also because once we get going trying to figure out who caused things to change it could take us hours (if He doesn’t stop it by pulling rank – which is totally what He should do!) to actually get to the bottom of it with all the “Well you did this!” and “Well you stopped doing this!”ing we do. When things are awry, we try to look at ways we both can correct things provided the issue is something like “We don’t spend time together anymore!” and not “Can’t you keep the sarcasm out of your voice, cunt?” When there’s blatant disrespect and orders being disobeyed or out right ignored these things need to be corrected before we can even begin to touch base again.

There’s been a great deal of orders being out right ignored lately. Standing orders, mostly. Tasks not being completed, firing off PMs to men in response to something they sent to me without even thinking about asking permission first let alone actually doing it, just wandering around doing whatever I want without first checking with Him… I’d gotten complacent with Him not saying anything. I’d come to believe that Him not saying anything meant either He didn’t notice or He didn’t care.

And then I had the nerve to ask permission to get actively involved in a bill campaign I really believe in (and He does too) that’s going on in our state and get angry when He told me I had to start keeping up with what I was supposed to be doing for Him before I could take anything else onto my plate. He didn’t say no. And He made it clear He wasn’t saying no. He just said “Keep your obligation to me first.” I might have lost that opportunity (permission to do it, I mean) because of the way I acted. I haven’t had the nerve to ask.

He’s absolutely right. (Duh, rayne. Thank you, Captain Obvious.) Even if He wasn’t Master He’d be right, though. How could I ever hope to take on another obligation if I can’t even take care of the ones I have?

There’s so much I started and then stopped because it was inconvenient for me or made me uncomfortable. Once upon a time I would have done them anyway. And I assumed that since He never said anything He didn’t care. So my service has changed. And even if that’s not the whole reason He doesn’t beat me or play with me every chance He gets… maybe not even a small part of the reason… it still excludes me from fighting the It’s really not always the slave’s fault things are wonky.fight.

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PSA

June 25th, 2008 Comments off

So I just have something to say. It’s going to sound rude but it’s not meant to be.

I think I pissed someone off who I actually have a bit of respect for. In a post or a comment. I’m not really sure which because there are a couple of ways they could have gotten upset if they misunderstood me or took what I said the wrong way.

That’s fine. I’ve long since gotten used to people not always understanding what I say to them. I’ve tried changing the way I communicate but online without facial expressions and voice inflection (and sometimes a second chance at explaining oneself) it’s next to impossible to make sure every person I come into contact with will understand that unless we’ve gotten ourselves into some sort of pissing match (and often times even then) I really don’t say anything with malicious intent. If it hurts you, that’s not my intention ever. My intention is only to be honest.

At first I felt bad. I was racking my brain going over and over how or why they might be pissed off. And I tried to decide whether or not I would be pissed off if the tables were turned. Thing is, I wouldn’t. That could be because I understand the way I think. Most of the time. But I don’t really feel bad about it anymore. Especially since if they really are pissed off it makes more sense to just say so and they haven’t. So maybe I’m just paranoid.

Thing is, I’m not here to make friends.

I have been. And it’s awesome. I love having fellow slaves to talk to about whatever they or I need to talk about. The camaraderie is something I’ve been missing. And something Master’s been (sort of) allowing me lately. We really need to get on that search for a chain sister for me!

But the fact still remains that I post, respond to comments and participate in forums here (and some other places) because I’m under orders to. I can say pretty much whatever I want so long as I say it respectfully and without malice and I enjoy it for the most part but I wouldn’t be allowed to do it on my enjoyment alone.

Awhile ago I was telling Master about how if it wasn’t for… something – I don’t remember what… I’d have quit blogging ages ago. And He responded with, “With permission, of course.”

I stared at Him with disbelief. Running through my head was: Permission? Why the hell would I need permission?? I started this damn blog. I should be able to stop it whenever I damn well please. But logic got the best of me and I held my tongue. He wouldn’t say something like that if He didn’t have solid evidence for a specific reason why I couldn’t just stop posting. Something other than “Because I’m the Master and I said so.” I mean. Which is reason enough, believe me.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re under orders to post on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, correct?”

“Yes, Master.” I squeaked out.

“Then you’ll quit with permission, correct?”

“Yes, Master.” I whispered in utter defeat.

“I’m not giving you permission.”

“Yes, Master.”

So, see? I blog cause I have to. Not cause I want the whole of the universe to see what my mind and fingers regurgitate after a day or three with God.

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Tonight

June 25th, 2008 Comments off

Before Master left work, He gave me the option of plugging my ass to go to the store. No I’m serious. He asked which I would prefer. Naturally, feeling it was a trap, I said “Whatever would please you most, Master.”

I’m clever, aren’t I? Unfortunately, He wanted a real answer. What I would do if it was entirely up to me. And He refused to give me any real indication as to what He wanted.

I thought a moment. I weighed the pros and cons. And I came up with a definitive “I don’t know.” I am the most indecisive bitch this side of the Mississippi. No lie.

But seriously! Sometimes I like the plug and sometimes I don’t. And I can’t tell by just sitting there thinking whether or not I like it. I have to actually insert it to know if today is a good plug day or a bad plug day. And once it’s in, it’s too late to go back. I can beg to take it out… but more often than not that gets me a resounding “No, cunt. Deal.” So if I was free to choose for myself, I’d probably choose not to just in case it was a bad plug day. Save myself some trouble.

So, I told Him that. And He said “That’s a pity because it’s nice when a bitch wants to be dirty.” I started searching for the last place I stashed the plug. God damn did that hurt getting in when I finally found it (resting happily exactly where it belonged).

So Master came home from work and snatched me up so we could go shopping (I’m so sick of shopping. Can’t the groceries come to us?? Well, in our small town they can, but the store that delivers is expensive. I digress.). We needed coffee, deodorant and soap. At least that’s what I knew of. When He got home He told me we needed hot dog rolls. Thirty of them. For a work party I can’t go to. *pout* But in exchange for our demanded offering He gets a $50 gas card. That’ll get Him back and forth to work for almost half a week! We seriously need to get rid of the Durango.  Read more…

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Last Night

June 24th, 2008 Comments off

Last night threw me for a loop. Master made me sit next to Him on the floor and lick His legs and feet, which isn’t altogether unusual just hasn’t been happening much lately. The unusual part was when He made me play with my tits and cunt while I was doing it. He said He didn’t care if I got myself off and He didn’t care how many times. That I had just better sit there being the whore I’m supposed to be while He finished working.

Now, I’m no prude. Not by a long shot. But I was shocked and appalled at this behavior!

Okay not really. I was, however, surprised at the cumming part. The last time He made me play with myself for Him it was probably 20 minutes of fucking myself with a dildo and rubbing away at my little clit with no allowance for orgasm. That came later (pun optional).

So there I sat, hungrily sucking and licking at His flesh, savoring the flavor of His skin, enjoying the tickle of His hair on my tongue, firing off a couple orgasms at my own hand. Aside from the positional difficulty that caused me to occasionally jam my fingernails into my super-sensitive button, which, if I’m to be honest, I loved as well, it was awesome. Just the right amount of humiliation and sex appeal to send me flying for days. But we weren’t finished yet.

Licking His legs always leads to a blow job. It’s just the most logical course of action. My mouth’s already primed and ready and at cock level; I’m positioned between His legs already; My oral fixation is already in high gear. So I started sucking. And it wasn’t long before He pulled back and said “I think I want your mouth on my back for a little while before I give you my cum. Is that a problem, cunt?” Read more…

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George Carlin

June 23rd, 2008 Comments off

It’s very rare that celebrity deaths affect me. I firmly believe that the world puts entirely too much emphasis on our entertainers. They’re human just like the rest of us. And while they are talented, I’m not sure I agree that they deserve all the money and recognition we give them for their talents.

George Carlin is no different. But his death really bothers me. He was a great comedian. Mostly because he tells it like it is. He wasn’t afraid to put it all out there no matter who was listening and might get offended. And I respect him for that.

George Carlin died yesterday of heart failure. He had just performed at the Orleans Casino and Hotel in Las Vegas. He was 71.

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