Trigger warning: Nothing graphic, but there is mention of emotional and sexual abuse within this post.

Generally speaking, I try to avoid talking about the fact that I was a teen mom.

Generally speaking, I try to avoid talking about the fact that I’m a mom at all because…well, this is an adult blog, but also because I feel like I am a complete failure in that area. I still have a hard time letting myself agree with the people who are privy to the entire situation, and say that I did everything I could to try to rectify that once I was in my right mind and was able, and before I was summarily dismissed from their lives by their father who still insists I abandoned them.

As if he has room to talk. After pushing me out of their lives, he left them with his ex-wife and moved to another state with another woman, then refused to speak with them for a year. So pretty much fuck him and his fucked up view on life.

Anyway…that’s neither here nor there. I didn’t come here today to write about how much of a waste of space my ex is. But because I know some of you are wondering, I’ll tell you the reason I haven’t flown to where the kids live and tried to take custody back from their stepmother is because she’s the only mother most of them have known and she’s more than capable. My youngest was still barely a toddler when the court decided criminal was better than crazy and sent them to live with their father. And the only memories my oldest has of me are from when I had a nervous breakdown. Read more…

“I should go clean house.”

“What’s my motivation?”

“Uh…clean house?”

“I don’t really care about that. It’s not that bad. It’s been worse. Next!”

“Happy Master?”

“Oh! Good one. I guess I’ll go clean now.”

On Saturday, we went for a drive.

Master was going to head out to Vischer Ferry so we could take pictures along the Old Erie Canal. I said, “I was going to bring my camera, and then I decided not to.”

“Well,” he said, “I was thinking about stopping at Walmart so we can pick up one of those binoculars-slash-digital-camera things we were talking about getting.”

“That’d be great. I forgot to bring tampons, and I have to pee.”

He glared at me, and launched his usual tirade about me forgetting something so crucial to our being able to stay out a while. In truth, my uterus is being a finicky bitch (as she is wont to do), and I only have my period every other twenty-four hours. Saturday was an other day, but you can never be too sure. I told him that, but he wanted those binoculars, so we went. Read more…

Gandhi said that if you want to change the world, you have to be the change you want to see. To that end, Insatiable Desire brings you No Stupid (Kink) Questions, a series of questions asked by novice kinksters around the web. If you have a question for us, leave it in comments, or send it to rayne (at) insatiabledesire (dot) com with “NS(K)Q” in the subject.

Question 27:

Should a master love his slave?

There’s no right answer to this one. Some people prefer to keep slavery separate from romantic love. Some people won’t be involved in slavery if there isn’t romantic love. Some people find that romantic love just naturally comes with the territory.

Master loves me. So very much. This much:

@Mindcryme @RayneMillaray well duh….anyone who's ever seen you two together knows that! Couldnt hide it if you tried

— Mariea V. Hartnagle (@LadyMariea276) March 1, 2014

I would be his slave without it, because I am hopelessly devoted to him, but I can’t tell you how much more fulfilling it is to be so completely loved by the person I have hitched my devotion wagon to. Plus, being enslaved to the master of me would be empty without his love. Harsh and cold. And that’s really not what I’m looking for.

Some masters adore their slaves, but they do not love them. Their relationships are different than my relationship with master. More that of a man and his dog, than that of a man and his wife.

Still other masters feel nothing whatever for their slaves. The slave is an object they own, and nothing more. Some feel it ought to be this way; that you cannot fully own something that can twist your heart with your love. I say that depends entirely on the people in question, and has nothing, whatever, to do with any perceived or real “BDSM rules” or truisms.

Which is right for you and yours? It really depends on you. Do you want to be loved, or merely owned? Do you want a slave you can love, or merely something to play with?

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Ooo, what’s that?

If there’s one thing M and I are lacking in, it’s metal handcuffs. We have a pair running around here, somewhere. But if memory serves, we bought it from some random local sleaze shop, so they’re cheap, and easy to get out of.

So, when Sex and Metal offered to let me review some of their stuff, naturally, I jumped at the opportunity. Metal cuffs that look nice, and, when used properly, I can’t escape from? You bet your ass.

That there is the Wrist Traps by Sex and Metal. And we probably should have started with a different set. But that’s not the cuffs’ fault! It’s totally ours. Read more…