taste of burnt sugar.

happy isn't interesting

2009-11-21T20:19:00.002-05:00

and we all have our tragedies. some are bigger than others.

i have tragedies and sadness on my mind tonight. nothing personal, you understand. but i'm drawn to it, i fear it. the car crash true crime mindscapes that hide in the gray matter in our heads. not the drama - that isn't what i mean. those are false tragedies: pretend incidents we use to pin-prick ourselves to remind ourselves we're alive. an experimental pinpricker is not a cutter, you see.

pricks.

funny how i can get from tragedies to incidental pain to sex.

my mind works like that.

update

2009-07-11T16:52:00.003-04:00

not much to say - status quo reigns here.

i'll be privatizing this blog shortly (like, within a day or so) - too many reasons to list. i may be able to come back to this sometime, but it isn't now.

want access to it? send me an email.

community support

2009-06-16T21:15:00.002-04:00

if you can help, please do. mzberlinsblog - help a mother.

amusement

2009-06-11T09:49:00.003-04:00

is it strange that i don't need a lot of people in my life?

there's a few folks scattered around who matter to me. i live with the most important of them, but i can count only a few more on one hand. i used to have a career where i was constantly in personal contact with hundreds of people. i feel like those days i was living in some sort of fog. my memory of it brings the words "survival instinct" to mind - my home life was going to shit, and i spent hours and hours at work: partly in avoidance of home, but also because it brought a numbing effect to my life, which i desperately needed at the time. but even then, i needed the constant interactions for a reason other than companionship.

i am not an extrovert. i suppose that's putting it mildly. i've been known to have agoraphobic incidents, but i've mostly squelched those. it's not like i'm unfriendly at public events, but i'm horribly shy, tongue tied, and often overwhelmed.

i'm happy to go to a movie by myself.

i love driving long trips and listening to the radio.

i could spend days on the property and never see another soul and not even realize it.

i don't know a lot of other people like this.

a little something

2009-06-02T21:04:00.003-04:00

a possible play date has come up in the kinda-near future.

part of the complications of being poly is that - well - it's somewhat difficult to find poly people with whom you'd actually like to become involved with. anyone out there who's poly is probably saying "ya think?" finding my way through the mire of the different definitions ("open", "poly", "slut", "etc") has been an ongoing challenge. i gave up a long time ago, and began using the term "polyamorous" because it seemed as close as i could get to what i was talking about.

i don't make the decisions regarding sex in my relationship with my owner. not when i have it, not how i have it, not with whom. i suppose i have some input, and i certainly have opinions, but ultimately, it's not up to me. as a result, i've ended up in some sexual situations in which i was pleased as punch, and in others where it kinda sucked.

but the possible one upcoming has me nervous. the last time we met with this person, i almost-barely survived. okay, that's not literal, but it felt like it at the time. while my owner scares me in a primal way that only he knows how to accomplish, this person scares me - differently. physically. i've tried to articulate it before, but i can't quite seem to come up with the right words.

he is not my owner, but he does care about me. those are two separate things. he is not my owner, so his personal obligation towards keeping the property intact, healthy, and humming along smoothly, is non-existent. he may very well care about those things, but because he cares about me as a person, a friend. but as a dominant, it's not his problem.

he's there for the show.

it's turning over in the pit of my stomach with a sickly twist like nausea, but my mind's eye sees it coming like a car crash that i can't wait to see.

debasement

2009-05-07T13:05:00.001-04:00

(my response to a hefty post regarding love and debasement and their possible co-existence):

i'm not sure why degradation or humiliation is, as some have mentioned here, any different from other variations of bdsm some of us engage in. one person's abuse is another person's kink. i do understand why you might have hesitation in engaging in it - it's pretty taboo in society at large, and knowing that it's consensual sometimes makes it do-able.

but the same could be said for daddy/girl play. or "rape" play (otherwise known as "forced sex play. whatever.)

the real question, i think, comes up if (like some of us here) you don't normally engage in role play activity with your partner. if you don't normally do role play, then i imagine it's hard to separate "pretend" abuse from "real" debasement (which in some minds can equal abuse). and then the next question becomes,

"is it okay to really debase and/or humiliate someone?"

we've all arrived in our places here in fetlife because of biology/context/environment with our kinks in place. for whatever reason, some people are turned on by being humiliated and debased for real. if this is a healthy practice or not becomes a wholly different question (and not one you're actually asking). but for the record, kinky activities of any risky type can be done either healthily or unhealthily. depends on the people involved not the kink itself.

fear, and where it lives

2009-04-18T20:49:00.001-04:00

i'm not shy about saying that i am actively afraid of my owner. i am not afraid of my own strength, my own emotions, or my own ability to make sound decisions, but i am sometimes afraid of him. not his decisions, or his emotions, but his strength - both physical and emotional.

i am afraid of consequences if i fuck up. this is primarily why i try not to fuck up. i wish i could say it was only because i live to serve, or because i'm a "born slave", but really, it's a lot because i'm scared of him.

it's not like he's given me any reasons to be afraid. his responses to my behavior, both good and bad, have been exceedingly appropriate, given the nature of our relationship. he's never given me cause to think his reaction will be "too much", or that he will ignore something either positive or negative that i have done.

but i am afraid. i don't clearly understand why, but it is also an integral part of the dynamic, and i know it simply wouldn't work without it.

on a scale of 1-10

2009-04-01T20:40:00.003-04:00

one of the beautiful things about the internet in all it's twisty and winding ways is that we do not have to lie about what it is we want. maybe we're getting impatient, or bored, or unbearably lonely. but lying about facts won't help one's cause.

it used to be that if one was a masochist, one needed to "submit" to someone to get those needs met. perhaps that took rise out of the old guard, where the culture was based on respect, and there were things akin to rites that brought one from one level to another in the community. so, if you wanted pain, you gave respect to the one who could dish it out well, and relatively safely. that's not necessarily submitting, but as the kink world grew, it re-interpreted as such.

my point is that now, thanks to the internet and the endless clarification of terms, you don't have to call yourself submissive in order to get your masochistic needs met. BDSM is not all the same thing, it's an umbrella term that covers all sorts of types and fetishes. for some people the worlds meet, and in others, very separate.

using myself as an example: i am not a masochist. i do not get off on pain - i can't get aroused by being in physical (or emotional) pain alone. my personal fetish is control. my owner uses pain to reinforce his control over me, and it is in that regard that i "enjoy" it. if you put me with a top who giggled, i'd be out of there in a hurry. it's not funny to me. however, as a top, i'm definitely a sadist. i have just about zero interest in controlling another person, but i thoroughly enjoy hurting someone to the point where they grit their teeth, or possibly even scream.

so, i'm at one end of the spectrum for D/s, and the other for S/m. in my own brain, i understand this perfectly well. for years, i was with a man who was only a kind-of dominant, but a huge sadist. it was a horrible mis-match. my owner now is a good fit for me - the overall relationship needs for him are about control, but his sexual fetish is pain. without the control, it undercuts any painplay that might happen, and de-values it. i've found that we have less pain-involved play, but that's probably because the *primary* need of D/s (extreme control) is being met for satisfactorily for both of us for now.

i get frustrated by people who seem (i can't prove it) to *use* D/s or S/m to get to the other, seeing them as part of the same continuum. if you're not interested in D/s, don't manipulate someone into a relationship who needs it. if you don't want painplay (for example, a dominant who abhors really hurting anyone physically) don't get involved with a masochist.

please. be honest about your needs and you'll have better luck getting them met. i promise.

a day in the life

2009-03-13T14:49:00.001-04:00

copied from my response to a thread on fetlife ('cause i know you're wondering how we're doing):

typical day: alarm rings at 7:15 - mostly to get kids on the bus in time. i usually set the coffee to go off at 7:00 so it's ready when we get up. if i haven't, i'm expected to get up and make it before anything else, including going to the bathroom. if he's awake, i have to ask permission to go to the bathroom - if not, i have standing orders to let him sleep and do what i gotta do on my own.

my owner works out of his home, so sometimes he'll get up later than that, sometimes earlier, but usually around the same time. early morning activities are mostly a joint effort - getting breakfast, kids' stuff together, fires lit. we've usually discussed the night before what needs to happen that day, so by the time the kids are out of the house we're onto that plan. more often than not he'll make breakfast for both of us while i'm doing other stuff, and we'll eat together while finishing up the final plans for the day.

i rattle off my list of chores/duties/errands i'm planning on getting done, and he'll either nod or nix as needed. he tries to keep my time away from home to a minimum, so if i can coordinate errands to keep the time down, i do. i usually get a to-do list to add to my own at that point. then the morning's business begins. i usually ask him if he's hungry mid-morning and then again at lunch time, prepare the meal, and then clean up all the detritus from the morning/lunch. if i've been out, i'm expected to get it done sometime in the afternoon.

afternoons usually include some sort of outdoor activity - working on firewood, shoveling, gardening, whatever's seasonally necessary. kids are home around 4, so i'm back to the business of that until dinner time. very occasionally he'll take a break from work at that point and join in the food preparation (it's fun - not an obligation for him), and then we'll sit down to dinner around 6:30. if he's still working, i try to give him a heads up so he can join us.

our bedtime varies hugely - sometimes very early, sometimes very late - usually dependent upon his workload. i do not go to bed without permission, and that usually doesn't happen until he's ready to go himself. in warmer weather i'll curl up at his feet while he's working, in colder weather, he lets me stay on the couch by the fire. sometimes i'm instructed to handle the firewood before bed, sometimes he's kind enough to do it himself.

our out-of-the-ordinary time is usually mid-week when there's a small lull in his workload. i do try to ask to plan it if possible - i love spending time with him. sometimes just a drive through the hills, sometimes something more kinky at home.

boring. nice. works for us.

the truth pops up everywhere

2009-02-15T11:13:00.002-05:00

"Where you lead, I will follow
Anywhere that you tell me to
If you need, you need me to be with you
I will follow where you lead..."

-carole king

i've been reading this book called "deep survival" about the neuroscience of who survives extreme conditions and why. basically, it comes down to the ability to re-do your "mental map" to include the reality of the situation on the fly, rather than trusting your logic and/or emotional ability entirely. it's considerably more complicated than that, but that's one of the basics. not something you learn as much as something you are.

when we were talking about this, he asked me how i handled crises. "i go into some sort of shock," i said. "it's almost as scary to watch myself shut down and function only minimally as it is to go through whatever-it-is that's happening."

i've been in enough survival situations to understand how i work. what's instinctive in me is the ability to quickly (and i mean instantaneously) re-asses a critical situation and immediately aim for the necessary action. i don't dilly-dally, i don't cry a whole lot, and i hear myself speaking as if in a fog.

but i get it done.

the author was talking about survival situations, and risk takers, in the context of mountain climbing. or piloting aircrafts. he was talking about how the memory of the adrenaline rush and expectation of satisfaction and happiness can override one's ability to use reason, thus creating "accidents". in other words, there are no accidents.

when you apply any of that to bdsm, and risk taking either physically (think: breathplay, suspension), or emotionally (consensual nonconsent), and although the time frame may be less-than-instantaneous, it makes perfect sense.

how many risks have i taken? a lot.

breakdown

2009-02-14T13:30:00.002-05:00

there are two things that happened.

one, is that i got my feelings hurt.

the other is that i realized my feelings are irrelevant. just something else for you to examine, toy with, abuse and change, if you feel like it.

except it doesn't work like that.

in other dynamics, egalitarian ones, one could have an expectation of hearing something like, at the worst, "i think you're being pretty ridiculous about this, but i'm sorry if i hurt your feelings."

i am trying to remind myself that a) this is not an egalitarian relationship, b) apologies are not something i can expect, and c) how i felt about any interaction we had isn't your priority.

you have work to do.

one of my primary rules is to never filter how i'm feeling. but that's an awfully hard thing to accomplish when the thing i am trying not to filter away from you is something you disregard as irrelevant. perhaps i should have kept it to myself.

which isn't the right answer either. it's not up to me to determine what is irrelevant and what is not.

all i know is that i am confused and wary.

it's not friday

2009-02-10T21:03:00.003-05:00

but i'm bored. i stole this from sake of sanity.

1. Please don’t tell me about your drama. i've finally cleaned out most of my own, and i think the trash is full, thanks.

2. Can youget up out of the nice toasty bed and light the fires and start the coffee for me in the morning please? just once?

3. The color twilight blue makes me feel at peace.

4. I have a craving for plantains. like, a whole bunch of them, fried and sweet and all mine. no sharing.

5. If my life had a pause button, i'd pause it indefinitely right now. i'm pretty fucking content.

6. Eyes are the scariest part of him.

trigger

2009-02-06T10:28:00.003-05:00

for the first year or so, it never happened. there was somehow a switch inside me that got stuck in the "off" position, and the slapped-on smile stuck to my face like it was cemented there. i could rattle off the details of what happened, and throw in some jokes besides.

almost exactly a year later to the date of it was the first one. i started feeling depressed, although the spring had come and was melting the ice with tiny rivers through it, usually my favorite time of year. i went back to therapy, because i couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom.

the last time before now was a bad one. it almost felt like my self had split into two beings - one, rational and able to speak pretty clearly and articulate what was going on, while the other one wept and shook uncontrollably. both selves took a moment to retch a few times.

it's almost like it's getting worse with each event. i was already overtired, and not feeling well. somehow the ability to remember that everything was actually okay and would not destroy everything i loved faded into the background like fog. i could barely speak, and the images and actual visual memories returned, like a slide show. at the time of the event itself, i cried. i know that much. but any more emotion than that went into lockdown, and i remember thinking that it was all unreal, and was probably a bad dream. i didn't get upset, particularly.

with every episode now, it's like my body rather than my mind is remembering what i should have felt at the time.

it would be easier to say that my extreme need for submission, masochism, and suffering was somehow a way to replay all of it in a more positive, building rather than deteriorating environment.

but it's not. i've always been like this. before, during, and after. those of us that have been through things like this understand in the cells of our body, not our minds, how what we do is simply not abuse.

it's 4 am

2009-02-04T10:25:00.002-05:00

we're both panting heavily. our hearts are racing. he's holding the rope, i'm holding the remote control butterfly. it's four am. we're standing across the bed from each other in the silence. staring at each other. finally, i can't take it anymore.

"where the fuck is that noise coming from?!?!?!"

we've upended the bedroom looking for a goddamned buzzing noise that goes off exactly every three minutes. every item in the room that somehow involves a battery has been smashed or taken apart.

just a slice of domestic life.

lately

2009-02-03T17:31:00.004-05:00

i've been feeling more of the daddy girl dynamic than maybe i ever have. i feel like your student a lot of the time, learning how things could or should happen, following you around and imitating you. we've joked about it - i want a carhartt jacket just like my daddy does.

i've always known who you are. somehow, very quickly, early on, we got to the truth of each other. it didn't change anything, or decide a future, but it was definitely different than any other relationship i'd had. whether it was because i was truthful with myself and that made me more truthful with you, or if your presentation of yourself with integrity intact gave me a role model, i'll never know. where do you end and i begin? it's sometimes hard to tell.

we've spent the last few years shedding unneeded baggage. people, things, and places. now, you show me possibilities i'd never seen before, and you are smarter than you know.

debatable

2009-02-01T16:24:00.003-05:00

"have you blogged lately?"

no, not really. okay, barely. i gave myself permission to stop thinking about the questions i've debated over the past two years. i stopped thinking about what was the right word for things, what was the right way at all, and just did it.

for the record, i do want to state this: living together is different from not living together. but also, i always, always agreed with that. i think the problem occured with the definition not of TPE, but with 24/7.

i guess i've always interpreted "24/7" to be a state one existed in all the time. for example, i am, 24/7/365:

- female
- short
- irreligious
- literate

and...

- owned

am i in active service all the time? of course not. i'm not at his feet, sucking his cock, preparing his meals, keeping the house (and specifically, his bed) warm all the time. there are times when i stop to breathe and rub my painful shoulder. when i take a teensy bit longer in the bathroom than is absolutely necessary because i like how quiet it is. or when i decide to eat that second apricot because i can't believe how tasty the first one was.

in the entire time i have been involved in bdsm (i'm older than you think), i have only once met someone who claimed to be in active service 24/7/365. One. it involved chains, rope, absolute micromanaging, including surveillance cameras. If it's true, than that i believe to be 24/7 active service.

but really, when it comes down to it, who the fuck cares what someone else does in their dungeon? why is it so important that someone agrees with one's definition or someone else's? what is this, junior high?

this goes beyond a need for commonality in language. this becomes a power struggle between the holier-than-thou, and really, i'm just not interested. i don't do well with competition - i'd rather bow out gracefully. i think i figured out why the second most-popular topic of discussion is always "where are all the real people?"

they're not online. they're busy doing it.

good news

2009-01-16T14:54:00.001-05:00

from the financial end of things. while it's not exactly paving the sidewalk outside the house with gold, it gives me something more than a shaky ladder to stand on. so, yay. being a good, truthful person sometimes actually works, even if it takes twice as long.

a family of deer stopped by the brook in the yard for a drink of water. they had their heavy gray winter coats on, and stopped cold while i went outside for more wood. i stopped cold too, and we all paused while a chickadee bravely jolted around the trees for us. i'm not surprised by the animals, but it was my first interaction with something alive all day on the property. i didn't want it to end.

my finger tips are cracking from the dry air and the cold. yes, i'm remedying it, but the soreness actually reminds me of the work i'm doing.

i heard an interview on the radio yesterday, about a guy who lives out in the country somewhere with his wife. they've reduced their circumstances - heating only with wood, growing food in the gardens, no more fancy trips - the only logical conclusion of the constant layoffs and belt-tightening. he said, "someday we may one day make that six-figure income again, but we'll still live this way. we've realized it's a lifestyle choice, not just a necessity."

yeah.

photo credit: Ache Of Trees by Kevis Somo

off leash

2009-01-14T14:41:00.002-05:00

not exactly. that's never the case. i suppose it's more like "longer leash" rather than off.

my owner is gone for a few days. sort of planned, but some unexpected changes. we've been almost constantly together for almost three weeks, and it feels very strange to be alone again. i went out to do errands, forgot my cell phone, and realized i was out of touch for the first, longest time since we met. i felt lost. i felt a little panicky, and my agoraphobic tendencies tried to take over, but instead i finished what i was doing and calmly set out for home as soon as possible. i had a long list of chores waiting for me when i got there, so i managed to keep everything choked down successfully. a little wood stacking, a little lunch, a little sweeping (i swear, my new name should be cinderella), and it feels a lot better.

i had not anticipated the utter isolation.

i don't have a lot of friends these days. the few i had that i was geographically close to are now, obviously, not, and the few others i have that are close to my heart were never living nearby anyway. once in a while i talk to them on the phone. i'm usually too goddamned busy to spend much time on the internet, either, and anyway, the satellite system goes down pretty regularly. we live so far from our closest neighbours that it's not like i'm seeing anyone at all very much.

but i'm not lonely. not yet. and i don't plan on being lonely. i have so much on my plate, so much to think about and physical activities to take care of that i had briefly thought about settling in for some tea and an old movie (no television here in the sticks) and remembered the other chores that needed to get done before the sun went down. these few moments recording this spot in time are all the free time i'm going to get today.

i think i want to nickname my new home "oz". he's the wizard. i'm dorothy. it's very much like the '40's.

(that's not meant to imply my owner is some weird hairy short guy behind a curtain hemming and hawing about the truth. not so. more like the fiery god-like wizard dorothy initially meets. you know. the scary one.)

i miss you already

2009-01-12T14:54:00.002-05:00

"what always fascinates me about you is that you don't like it. but you want it."

"yes, sir."

i don't like it. i don't like the pain. it makes me gasp, it makes me cringe, it frightens me and i dread it. some kinds are worse than others, but none of them are pleasurable. but i'm the one who suggests the opportunity, drags down the box, and shuts up.

there are still phrases and words that send an electric jolt through me. "hard use." "suffer, bitch." and the mere actions of a man using his slave for his own purposes, not caring what the results are other than his own satisfaction. i don't ever go numb, but being your rag doll certainly brings me damned close. if only you wouldn't hurt me so much, i'd be able to float away.

it's a riddle, isn't it. hurt me so i can suffer so i can't float away.

i don't like sleeping in your bed without you.

interesting

2009-01-05T22:19:00.000-05:00

here's some interesting things i noticed.

on occasion, i'm cranky about a task. it's nothing unusual, something i do all the time. but i get into this "well, shit. maybe if you'd help, it'd go faster, and i could do the other ninety gazillion things that need to get done...", or something like that. but i find myself using my obligations and responsibilities and agreements and the knowledge that it's his right to yadda yadda yadda stuff as a crutch, and calm myself down, and get it done.

i think i'm brainwashed.

but in a good way.

and i also noticed this: i have problems with my posture. my owner has made it one of his personal missions in life to correct this. i noticed today during one of my personal cranky moments that my posture instantly turned into one of martyrdom and sacrifice and drudgery. bowed back by suffering, as modeled by my mother for many years.

it disgusted me.

i don't want to mimic something i am not.

i'm working on it.

world in a bubble

2009-01-03T15:11:00.003-05:00

i've lost interest in debate. i've lost interest in arguing about terminology, what i may or may not be, what's "right" or "wrong". i've lost interest in the gossip, the politics of online blogging.

mostly i'm interested in making sure i've hauled in enough wood for the night, the kitchen sink is clear of dirty dishes, and the coffee grinder is ready to go when needed. sometimes i put on clothes.

i'm happy as a clam.

i know it can't last forever. i know this is something like a honeymoon period, when it's all just joyful and sweet, and sometimes tears leak out of my eyes because i'm stuffed full of happiness and it just has to come out somewhere. it's work to leave the bubble - a trip to town takes a while anyway, so it had better be necessary, so it doesn't happen very often. i'm more often than not shoveling the car out for no reason other than to be outside, because it's fun. yeah - i know. it'll get old eventually.

i don't have anything kinky to say. i don't have much to say at all really, except the tea is sweet, the fire is cozy, and i couldn't care less if i'm marked or collared or a sub or a slave. it doesn't matter. it only matters that it's working.

(photo credit: Elessar Tetramariner's "world in a bubble")

yield

2008-12-27T21:04:00.002-05:00

"what does Y-I-E-L-D mean?"

so far, what i've found is that most of daily life for us isn't about dominance and submission. what i've found are words that are much better descriptors. "yield" for example. i was trying to explain this particular street sign to someone who won't need to know the particulars of traffic intersections for at least another ten years, and found myself describing a perfect analogy for daily life.

"it's kind of like. well. when two cars come to an intersection..."

"what's an 'intersection'?"

"well. it's. um. when two cars meet going in different directions. and they have to decide who's going to go first."

"why?"

"why what?"

"why do they have to decide who goes first?"

"well. um. because they might crash?"

"oh."

"yeah. so. when there's a sign that says 'yield', it means that person has to wait for the other person to go first."

"always?"

"well, if there isn't another car, then they don't have to wait for someone to go first, because. well. there isn't anyone else to go first except them, right?"

"oh. so if you're the only car on the street, even if it says 'yield', you don't have to, right?"

"yeah."

"oh. what happens when both cars want to 'yield'?"

"well. that's a problem. because then no one would go first, 'cause they'd keep waiting for someone else to go."

"and they'd never get where they were going."

"exactly."

i gave it away

2008-12-15T20:28:00.000-05:00

i gave away my microwave today. tomorrow, all my forks will be gone. i've sent a humidifier on it's way, a table or two, and a lot of sheets. and clothes. some books, but not the ones that are allowed. a few bits of useless jewelry, some candles.

i'm wondering if there's a point when the calmness overcomes the movement. when it becomes like swimming - not blank and motionless, but smooth and quiet and flowing, instead.

my mother asked me if i regretted anything. i know what she meant. instead, i said "i'd have regretted not taking the good mattress. so no."

it's never going to feel like a romance novel. i'm done with that. i think people romanticize power dynamics beyond what it can encompass. what we do isn't easy, or slight, or even usually ideal, but who can claim that their life is easy these days?

what i'm getting rid of is a lifetime of preconceived notions and uncomfortable expectations. as close as i can to coming to you with merely my skin.

and in a way, so are you.

missionaries

2008-12-12T14:48:00.002-05:00

what i can't get over is the fact that this feels like the most normal relationship i've ever been in.

that's not to say that the two of us aren't special, unique and talented individuals (although i suppose that's a matter of personal taste, really), but that the basic workings of any relationship, and it's success, are dependent on mutual goals, and a commitment to seeing them through.

for the sake of hilarity, use a missionary christian couple as a comparison. against all odds, cultural, physical, personal, they work together for a common goal. along the way they may experience incredibly joy and elation, and deep, dark moments of grief and hopelessness. there's no specific end to their "journey", it's just a matter of doing what feels right, and truthful, and that there really is no other path that seems justified.

so switch out the proselytizing for violent sex, and i don't see a lot of difference.

over and over again, i keep seeing the similarities between a hardcore bdsm TPE Owner/property relationship and - religion.

(i have nothing to say about the picture other than i laffed. a lot.)

letter

2008-12-10T10:10:00.000-05:00

dear self 10 years ago-

you just made a really bad choice. funny, because you'll eventually find out that making choices is sort of a mixed bag for you: necessary at times, but not something you're particularly good at.

that whole "fork in the road" thing? it's not really like that. because everything you're going to do for the next decade is a choice, a decision point, that will lead you to where i'm at now. every single moment you'll do something that will change the course of the future.

some of the stuff is going to go really, super-amazingly badly. on some level, you probably know that already, and while we both wish you'd have recognized that earlier, it's too late. i mean it. it's not going to be good. you're going to lie to yourself, to others, become numb, and have a horrible time of it.

but here's the good news - eventually, all those trials are going to get you to a place where you'll feel clean. healthy, and clean. you will be worse for wear because of all of it, so just recognize that now - maybe coming to terms with it in advance will help.

despite everything, i'm grateful to you. some of the the things that will come in the next few years are joyful beyond comprehension. know also that that's coming too.

love and luck,

a decade

What the hell is wrong with sex?

2008-12-08T20:24:00.003-05:00

i'm annoyed.

most of the public play spaces i've been to in my time are pretty cool. great equipment, nice people, big spread of snacks for the sugar-dropees. but no sex. even in the places where it's not a specific rule, it seems somewhat uncouth to fuck there.

"we're not swingers." "we wanted to differentiate from the swingers." "we do bdsm. not fuck strangers." as if there was something horribly wrong with swinging. or fucking strangers for that matter.

here's the deal. while i don't have a lot of experience swinging, it's not from lack of trying. i'm a heartfelt polyamorous owned cunt, and i like sex. in private. in public. with pain. with torture. with multiple partners, preferably in the same night, with a generous dose of humiliation.

i am so sick of people acting as if sex is something that does not belong in bdsm. jeebus - we do this because we're turned on, right?

what's a girl gotta do to find a fuck-friendly kink fest?

feel good? think again.

2008-12-02T19:06:00.001-05:00

"She likes to race my motor
Then slam my hood
She makes me feel good
She makes me feel good..."

-lyle lovett, "she makes me feel good"

in the confusion and chaos of the upcoming move, i forgot to do something. now, i've been doing this particular task for almost a year, so it's not like something changed and i'm still working it into my routine. i just - forgot.

and then forgot again, when reminded.

yeah.

orgasm control is something we've been doing for a very long time. it's almost as if my body totally understands that they do not belong to me, in a way separate from my brain. i suppose that's what behavioral modification is all about, and i do have concerns about what would happen should i ever have to do it on my own again, as unowned, and if i even could. but anyway.

orgasm denial is a whole other thing. there was a full night of torture regarding this (and no relief in sight, may i add in the midst of this very stressful time).

that's as far as i'm going to go with this, because begging and pleading and tantruming i know damned well will only make it worse.

and i do not want it any worse. because every time i imagine things could not get worse, the man keeps finding ways.

me no likey.

responsibility

2008-12-01T13:05:00.002-05:00

not surprisingly, one of the biggest reliefs of this relationship is having someone else responsible for making decisions. i'm not saying that i abdicate responsibility for my life, the things i do, and the repercussions (although it would be far easier to do that), but that the complete stress of making important decisions on my own is eradicated.

maybe it's not any different in egalitarian relationships. which i know very little about.

the weight of what my owner has chosen to do for "our" future is pretty big. it's not just me that's making changes, big ones, in order to accommodate a potential future together. it make me that much more wary of fucking this all up, because i know damned well what he's prioritizing, and while it's flattering and special and etc., it's pretty damned scary, too.

i'm overthinking this. he is, too, i think.

everything is almost packed. i can't find the cheese grater. here's a pic of what it looks like, if you find it.

too far, not so fast

2008-11-29T19:50:00.000-05:00

you asked me if, in my moments of objectification and muffled screaming, i'd have preferred to be used sexually instead.

within seconds, images of everything that happened flashed: four hands pinching and placing and moving and slapping and hurting. unable to breathe through the gag because my nose was stuffed from sobbing.

"i hate electricity," i responded. "i've always told you that."

"that's not an answer," you said, as you kept your eyes on the road, and my eyes wandered around your face. i kept looking for the real question there, but couldn't find it. i occasionally forget that you are a man of action over words, and that it doesn't occur to you to hide your meanings.

"i'm not sure if i can answer that," i said finally. i looked out at the road in front of us as we were driving away. "i don't think it even occurred to me that that was an option."

"it wasn't. an option for you, anyway. you don't have options."

"that's not what i meant." i tried again. "i mean that in the midst of it, it did not occur to me that something could be different. that i could want something other than what was happening, even if i hated what was happening. electricity play is something i've never done well with, and there's really nothing about it that's erotic to me." i paused, carefully trying to get my meaning across.

"i wasn't thinking that i'd rather be fucking. i was thinking, frankly, about survival and trying to obey what was happening in the present, and wherever it went, i would go. for you."

a few seconds passed as i watched the graying sky beyond you and the slow smile that grew across your lips.

nothing changes

2008-11-24T14:37:00.000-05:00

you know nothing changes, don't you.

yes, sir.

you know you're a cunt, an owned cunt.

yes, sir.

you know i own you, and you will obey.

yes, sir. please...

you want to come?

yes, sir.

why?

because you're fucking me, sir.

do you want to come because i'm fucking you, or because i'm telling you what you are?

...it's the same thing, sir.

yes, it is.

congratulations

2008-11-22T21:22:00.000-05:00

funny, i don't really feel the need to celebrate this. when people ask how we met, they turn it into one of those "internet success stories", as if two people meeting each other electronically and then in person and taking a year and a fucking half to decide what to do about it is magic.

i dunno. i feel weird hanging up clothes in his closet. finding room for my cookbooks. it feels presumptuous, i told him. not bad, but weird. i guess deep down in the bowels of my heart i never truly expected this, and hadn't really prepared for it, even as it was being discussed in minute detail.

i expected this to fail. i expected it to run it's course, and be done. i figured i'd suck this dry of everything i could, every slight change in the shade of it, experiencing the most intense power dynamic i'd ever found, and that would be that.

this isn't really a success story, because it's not done yet. but the other side of it is that it feels perfectly and totally natural to behave the way we are together. there are moments when anyone would view us as a really happy vanilla couple. what's amazing is that as this slowly moves forward, i feel almost completely uninterested in the words that get used. i'm used to being obsessed with words and their definitions and how to articulate and describe what i am, what i am to him, what he is, what we are.

is this contentment? that, i have almost zero experience with.

got boxes?

2008-11-20T20:17:00.004-05:00

i've moved a lot. by anyone's standards, perhaps too much. in the past two decades, off the top of my head, i can list 7 different states i've held driver's licenses, and i'm not even counting the different street addresses in all of those states. along the way i've accumulated stuff, lost stuff, found love, lost it, and kept journals throughout.

i don't really have a home.

the house i'm living in now is as much a home as i've had. i've been here now almost two years. at one address. very unusual. but strangely, or not, depending on how you look at it, this is the happiest place i've been at in all those decades. seriously. it's the first place i can remember being genuinely happy. somehow i got it in my head that i could settle here for a while, put up my feet and let things accumulate again.

the decision has been approaching for a while now. we've tried to ignore that it was there, hovering in the background. it was hard for me, because i'm very focused on living in the here-and-now, which competes with my goal-oriented nature, and i was fighting a need to know the future before it's time. but it all bubbled up and here we are.

but this time it's a little different. i'm not in charge of the situation. my owner calls me "the good little soldier". it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that i don't want to be the chief, i want to be the follower, and that doesn't make me "sheeple". he's telling me what goes, what doesn't. what i can keep, what i should sell, what we'll store. what socks to bring, which teapots. i'm clinging to his direction on this, because i've been so brave in the past, but i'm scared now.

no, not scared. excited. shocked. a little nervous. overwhelmed by the speed of it.

it's his house. but i'm going home.

[pic: Hestia, goddess of house and hearth.]

recycled trash

2008-11-19T20:36:00.002-05:00

okey dokey. i need recommendations. please comment with a blog you love that i may not know yet. please. i need smut. and full sentences. please.

witness part 3

2008-11-18T14:19:00.000-05:00

"In physics, the term observer effect refers to changes that the act of observation will make on the phenomenon being observed. This is often the result of instruments that, by necessity, alter the state of what they measure in some manner."

- wikipedia, heisenberg's "observer effect"

for someone who has extreme exhibitionist tendencies, it's not often i find myself in the position of wanting privacy. the nature of who i am has a huge element of observation inherent to it - it's taken me a long time to come to terms with both the narcissism and vulnerability that entails.

i'd love to be able to shout to the world that i don't give a fuck what anybody thinks. and for the most part, that's true. but as my owner once stated, the act of witnessing something validates it in a way that couldn't be achieved otherwise.

big changes are in the midst right now, and i'm finding myself unwilling to talk about that. i don't need external validation for once, which i'm actually cherishing. observation, or witnessing, has the effect of inherently changing the nature of the act, and right now i'm more interested in the act remaining genuine. so.

eventually i'll talk about it. but it's interesting to me to recognize the whole observation-as-interference aspect of things.

all night long vanilla

2008-11-17T18:19:00.002-05:00

conversation under the covers almost asleep:

me: you ever hear about those people who have sex "all night"?
D: yeah.
me: what's that about? how do you have sex all night? vanilla sex? all night? that's a lot of fucking.
D: i don't think they mean active penetration for 12 hours.
me: oh. 'cause that sounds - tiring. and boring.

[interlude in which we attempt to describe what vanilla sex consists of. we rack our brains. this is not a simple task.]

me: i mean, vanilla sex? all night? honestly, that sounds like torture to me. ::: laughing ::: hey - that's a new way to torture me - make me have vanilla sex for 8 hours. but i think you'd be bored shitless.
D: actually, that's an idea. but i wouldn't do it. i'd get someone else to do it.

[very long pause.]

me: uh. with all due respect, "getting someone else to do it" isn't vanilla.

[short pause]

D: huh. how about that.

thinking

2008-11-16T14:06:00.000-05:00

i've been thinking about this post for days. there's no way i could encompass everything i wanted to say and ignore, and squeeze it into anything readable.

i was driving through the towns i've come to love, the rain spattering in small bursts on the windows, and i kept thinking about how i've come to view new england winters with awe. i never lived here before this time of my life, and while we all hear stories about the majesty and breathtaking beauty of it, and i've watched it and lived it now for a bit, i never stopped to live *in* it, other than the obvious dealing with it. children love snow - they live fully, wholly, in their igloos and snowfights and slippery driveways and every single second of it is important. they don't think about the cost of snowsuits and replaced mittens and ice chippers and snow blowers - they wake up and count the snowflakes stuck to the windows and how long it'll take until they're out in it.

i'm not going to worry about what it will take to make this work. i'm going to enjoy the fact that i'm doing it, instead. what i'm leaving behind was good. it was. and i'm forever grateful to the person i was then for letting me get here, now.

"every time god closes a door, somewhere he opens a window."

-the sound of music

that throwuppy feeling

2008-11-14T13:19:00.002-05:00

you know how when big risky decisions get made and you hope and hope and hope you've made the right one and that the path will go forward in the direction towards utopia and beautiful sunsets and very little angst?

that the things that get left behind weren't for the best anyway and the struggles you'll get instead will be infinitely more valuable and love will come in waves upon waves on your head and on the ones around you?

and you can't even risk looking backwards because that makes you even more dizzy?

like that.

choosy bitch

2008-11-12T19:13:00.003-05:00

"do, or do not. there is no try."

-yoda

the nature of choice is a weird thing. i'm not so sure it's the same thing as free will. the concept of free will seems to imply that one is able to make any number of choices, from any number of options. in an M/s relationship one has choices. but not free will.

i can choose to obey, or not.

i can choose to sit down, take a breath, or wait until he begins eating before i do.

this isn't instinct, this is choice. maybe it's different when one is "internally enslaved", but since i'm not, currently, everything is a choice.

i'm a stubborn bitch, so i'm obedient. i'm hellbent and determined to make this dynamic work, so i... try? no, i choose.

every time i disobey, it's a choice. i know that. the choice isn't always based on the best intentions or motivations, and sometimes my reasons are stupid. once, i ate a scone, a sweet treat, when i was not supposed to. my owner was furious. when asked why i did it, i stammered something along the lines of "not thinking. don't know. just did it." and he rightfully pointed out the distruth of that - i was thinking, i just chose badly.

it's very trying.

perceived

2008-11-12T14:19:00.001-05:00

The Rules:
1. You must link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share seven facts about yourself.
3. Tag seven people.

swtbriarros got me. but i ain't taggin' no one. y'all can fend fer yerselves.

1. i used to have 8 body piercings. now i have 3.

2. if i thought i had the figure for it, i'd be a porn actress. i'm totally serious. i'm well suited to the business model, but not well-figured for the masses. C'est la vie.

3. i'm determinably bi-forced. not "bisexual" or "bicurious". i think it's hot that my owner makes me do anything i do not inherently find erotic, and that's one of 'em. just take one look at his face when it happens, and you'll know why this works for us.

4. i believe the term is "cuckqueen" - a female cuckhold.

5. i have been removing completely the hair from my bikini area and beyond for about 18 years. i barely remember what i look like otherwise.

6. there are very few things that offend me, except for lying. lies are gross. they are the opposite of my kink.

7. i'm not who you think i am. the character of luna_lux will never be the same as the person writing it. that's the difference between online play and real life bdsm.

gripped

2008-11-10T10:06:00.000-05:00

sometimes you are new to me. sometimes so familiar it's almost like recognizing myself in a mirror. being next to your skin is like coming home, but being pierced by your eyes is the coldest winter i've ever known.

there's always ongoing discussions about how a dominant can maintain a loving relationship with their submissive without losing track of the power dynamic, or undercutting it completely.

you hold me at arm's length. but tight in your grip. i don't know how you maintain your own balance sometimes.

up down up down

2008-11-07T08:43:00.002-05:00

for the most part, this week hasn't gone any better than last week. i go through daily cycles of panic/nausea/relax/numb over and over again. during one of those cycles that almost brought me to tears, my owner calmly told me that he demanded that i show grace under pressure. no exceptions. it worked.

i don't know how dominants do it. i need this. i needed that.

Outside In

2008-11-05T18:10:00.002-05:00

as a companion piece for friendly and my owner's post "Out in the World", here's my take on being outed:

the thing is, it's one thing to out yourself to someone you know, who you know fundamentally loves you. it's another to be outed by someone else. mind you, i'm not in any way saying my owner couldn't have or shouldn't have (in fact, i'm awful proud that he's done it), but it's an interesting place to be when that process includes their knowledge of *me* by default.

kind of like something is being done to me without my consent, or cooperation, even.

so i end up having mixed emotions about it - on one hand, i'm thrilled that i don't have to do the tedious excercise of "hiding" something perfectly natural to myself. on the other, it's a bit perturbing that there are now people in the world who's opinion of me is highly valued that now have information about me i didn't intentionally share.

and on the third hand, it's awfully hot to be used.

i think i'll stick with the third hand.

(photo credit: "insideout" - a stunning painting by deborah poynton.)

friendly

2008-11-04T15:56:00.003-05:00

i met a couple the other day. really cool. the kind of hip hipster people i wish i was, but still old enough to have at least a few things in common. the little bits of conversation we had were entertaining and i liked them.

this is a big deal because i don't often meet people i actually like. the problem is, i met them in a completely vanilla context, and i'm struck by the fact that my "lifestyle" isn't apparent to them.

i have very few friends that are not aware of my lifestyle. there are reasons for that: it's probably the most prevalent part of my life - the most pervasive, the most encompassing. but i'm not obvious about it - unless i told you, you'd probably never know. the similarities between being a lifestyle submissive/slave/property are very, very similar to being gay, i'd think, in that it's not *just* about sex, but it's a lot about sexuality. anyway.

my immediate reaction upon meeting these people was "oh well."

which is stupid. and prejudiced. and isolating. and, and and... but i can't help but think about when and if "the conversation" would occur. so, a paradox: i'd like to attempt friendship, but i'm wary of it.

so it goes.

dig

2008-10-29T20:21:00.004-04:00

you dig into me with your teeth with your fingernails with your stare ditchdeep i'm sunk, deeper deeper i only have tunnel vision back to you a thin line a thread a line of spit slowly falling to the ground where my knees belong and you dig dig deep down dirt daughter dark your open hole.

a slight modification

2008-10-28T13:47:00.002-04:00

seven things i am afraid of:

1. your disappointment.
2. my own temper.
3. getting overweight again, irreparably so.
4. becoming too familiar with you.
5. becoming too distant from you.
6. that the chances we take will hurt everyone we know and love including ourselves.
7. not taking that chance.

i can't say that i am ready and willing and all-hot-fired-up for risk. everything i do these days is risky - there is so much riding on each and every decision that is made. i consult you obsessively, second-guess myself and then reassure myself and then wait for your reassurance to be sure.

i think somewhere along the way you taught me to trust myself as well as you, which is a gift i can never even come close to repaying.

choices

2008-10-23T17:55:00.001-04:00

there are threads flying around on fetlife about what choices are possible for slaves. and threads about control, and how much control a slave can have. and threads, also, about definitions, labels, communities, and wrongness.

some notes about how it works for me. so that i don't have to say it again, i can just link to this later. and because i like lists.

1. i do not live with my owner, and there are no current plans to change this. this does not make me any less dedicated, owned, or enslaved. all it means is that i live somewhere else and miss him more. while i am ambivalent at best about this situation, i feel there are both positive and negative reprecussions. but the decision is not up to me.

2. i don't like to use the word slave, although arguably the word "property" isn't a hell of a lot different. i believe that a slave is a person who is actually enslaved - either physically or emotionally. sometimes i feel it, sometimes i don't. but what i am called is not up to me.

3. there are issues in our world that require decisions that are not sexual. they are not about who i fuck or don't fuck, not about how many orgasms i have, or about how i wear my hair, even. voting, career choice, weight loss, are all significant issues that have very little to do with sex as we usually know it. these issues are often designated to me to decide, but the final choices are still not up to me.

are you getting a general theme here?

i never said everyone had to be TPE, or that it was "better" than anything else. but it's "total". not "part". or "mostly". or "except for...".

stop the world, i want to get off

2008-10-20T15:28:00.003-04:00

i'm very, very tired. it's been a very rough week, and it doesn't look like it's getting better anytime soon. no one around these parts is sleeping very well, and sometimes it feels like the fabric of the world as i've known it is disintegrating.

i want the world to stop moving. i can't catch up.

on a good note, insex rocks. thank you, A.

(photo is insex logo.)

self control

2008-10-15T16:59:00.004-04:00

i would never ask you to change, because you gave me every opportunity to examine what you were. you never lied, you never changed. your cards were always all on the table, face up, even as i slowly revealed mine, one by one.

that's called integrity.

every day a sun rises

2008-10-10T08:50:00.001-04:00

"Yeah, maybe when you're old enough
You'll realize that you're not so tough.
And some days the seas get rough,
You'll see.
You're too young to have it figured out.
You think you know what you're talkin' about."

- the raconteurs, "old enough"

i don't mean to come across like a know-it-all. maybe a know-it-some, though.

there's some knowledge that literally only comes with getting older. not experience, even, but age. it's a matter of waking up every day to whatever-it-is-you've-chosen, seeing the sun come up reliably again, the moon rising and flooding every month. these are dependable things, in a life that is rarely stable.

here's what i would tell you, if you sat still long and quietly enough:

there are people who love you, no matter what you do, or how you act, or what you say. they won't go away, because they know who you are, and you are valuable to them. it's not worth picking fights with them, it's not worth being sad or even happy about them, because they do exist and they do love you. they may not be what you expect, or what you want, but in that form, they are yours.

there are also people who do not love you, and who never will. that's the other side of this coin. i don't mean that they will hurt you as much as i mean that they do not love you. they do not know who you are, and they will sift through people like sand and will never be satisfied with what's left in their hands - which is nothing. so get over them - you're just moving sand to them, nothing more.

he loves you. stop fighting so hard.

lace isn't warm, and other conditions

2008-10-07T09:51:00.003-04:00

the season has officially turned, and i'm not really ready for it. storm windows aren't in place, and my leg warmers are nowhere to be found (don't mock me about the leg warmers - they work.)

i took the hottest shower i could stand this morning, and returned to get dressed warmly while i wasn't frozen. sorting through my underwear drawer, i began to curse.

i don't have granny panties anymore. the only stuff left is lacy, silky, easily-torn frothy stuff.

all i want is warm cotton snuggled up against my cold ass, and it ain't gonna happen.

somehow this happened without any conscious awareness on my part. kind of like how i now am a fan of cilantro. and how i like being (good grief, when did this happen?!?!) outside.

behavioral modification is a big frosty bite in the butt.

response, return

2008-10-06T08:01:00.000-04:00

1. What is the image that brought you to the lifestyle?

there's a few from my youth, and a few that actually got me to *do* it, but it's not what you'd think.

i've always been about words. i can't remember how far back my feelings about submission go, hence my belief in the fact that i'm just wired this way. the image i cling to even now, though, is from my own brain, as described in the story of o...

face down on a heavy desk in the office he is taking her ass while the maid enters to ask him a minute question. he doesn't pause he doesn't hide, he continues his action while speaking benignly to the maid. she stares at o while he speaks her face expressing nothing, and then leaves.

yep, that.

2. Submissives: If you could only do one thing for someone . . . one action to serve them and show them how much you care, what would it be?

be a sounding board. i can do lots of things - clean floors, choke on cock, cry. but really what submission is about for me, is about putting my own personal needs aside, my own priorities and interests, and using theirs instead.

3. You have found the one that completes you, you are deliriously happy. They ask you to do one thing and you immediately leave and never speak to them again.

intentionally destroy someone or lie to them for negative reasons (yes, that's vague, but i know what i mean, and that's all that matters). it would undermine who i am as a person. i take issue with the "immediately leave" part, because i'm not sure where chronologically this incident hypothetically falls, and i'm not guaranteeing it's possible to leave.

i have to turn this question into different wording to make it make sense to me - something like, "what do you foresee being the incident that would break you down badly?" or something like that, since the nature of my relationship *currently* can't encompass a willful exit.

dance like no one is watching

2008-10-05T12:49:00.003-04:00

"...she is a dancer
when she dances she is free
free in the moment
and clouds rise in the east
to Frank Sinatra
which your parents put on repeat
on repeat..."

-emily jane white

this started out as a piece about sacred whores. but instead it's about freedoms lost and gained and found and lost again and reclaimed.

i used to dance, when i was younger. i was one of those wishful ballerinas, white and dark and always looking at the floor to find my place. i didn't find comfort in the discipline of the rehearsal room, but in the blood found in my shoes when i was done. there was a reason for it, the pain and the sweat and the failings. and reasons for things were what i lived for. i still do. later, i would find myself in the middle of the night dancing in clubs high on whatever could be found and a straining violin above the electric noise.

if given freedom, if it is forced upon me, i'll dance.

gunshy

2008-10-04T15:17:00.001-04:00

i have not yet learned whether or not my instincts are correct. i've fucked up too many times on too many important things to trust myself. maybe that's why obedience comes more naturally to me than independent action.

head, heart, hand

intellect, emotion, action

i'm glad you're feeling it, too. i know you are no different in this regard. yet again, we're on the same page.

these dreams

2008-10-02T13:09:00.004-04:00

we're standing on a shore, a dock, a ferrydock, and it's one of those cool autumn mornings i think where it might be blue and it might be gray but since it's a dream it's all lit by low sunshine anyway. the ferry is coming, and we need to get across to the other side of where we are and the water is glassy and has a light choppy wave to it, but nothing i am scared of.

the ferry hasn't arrived yet.

which is good, because you are going around to the other side in your car. i trust your car, i know it will get us there. it's parked a bit away where i can see the green of it almost meshing with the landscape. i could go with you, in your car.

but i have this big steamer trunk. it needs to go with me, and it cannot go in your car. if i go with you, in your car, a reliable way, the trunk can't come. ever.

i could take the ferry, which in my dream inexplicably will make a stop in the middle of the water, halfway to the other side, and then leave the passengers there in the middle. my trunk can come with me, but there is no guarantee that we will make it to my destination. i, and my trunk, may end up stranded in the middle of the water.

but there's also the chance that the ferry would not stop, and get me there safely, trunk intact.

do i leave the trunk behind and go with you?
do i take the ferry and hope to get to the other side, meet you, and continue on?
will i be left in the middle with only my trunk for company, lost and never getting to where i want to be?

when i woke up at this point, no decision made, it occurred to me that there was no option of me remaining behind, with my trunk, but without you.

entrust this.

2008-10-01T21:04:00.002-04:00

conversation with a friend the other that was basically about the nature of trust, especially when starting a new bdsm-related relationship. especially when you met online. and especially when everyone knows we're not laughing about it.

when i met my owner for the first time, it was in public. a dark groovy bar, sure, but in public, where the bartender knew me. we had already spent weeks talking - mostly about sex, but also about who we were, and what kind of people we were, and what kind of people we wanted to be. we both had parts of ourselves that had to be protected, but small verbal risks were taken.

we met in the bar, and i already knew his name. i already knew his face, and some other significant details about his life. he told me later that he'd deliberately done this, so that the risk i was taking by even meeting him in the first place did not put me at some obvious safety disadvantage. a few weeks later, when we met for our first official "play date", i trusted him enough to go into a locked hotel room and hope for the best. i don't know that i would have done that without all the prior information and meetings and obvious chemistry.

but all that being said, there was a point at which i had to let go of protecting myself. i do not advocate risk, but i understand it. there's only so far one can go into a power exchange relationship without deliberately letting go of control over it. when you know what you want to do is to surrender, it's very hard to take the smaller, protected steps beforehand.

i was lucky, and i still am. i never forget that.

let me explain why you were uncomfortable

2008-09-28T21:12:00.002-04:00

the event played out unexpectedly for me. i was distracted with other thoughts and worries when he picked me up, and when i asked in the car "should i be nervous?" before we met, he said "yes." and then my world tipped sideways as i slid my panties down my legs and over my boots. we went in.

it's not that i don't like girls; i do. i love having girlfriends, i love the way they look, the things they say, the frank discussions and tight clothes. i love the comraderie and the understanding that our bodies work (mostly) the same way, and not like those aliens we call "men".

i've never been a toucher, and i've never been a good touchee. i don't like it when people touch me in general, and i don't like it any more when it's a woman. i could not look at you, i could only look at my owner, indignant that he was allowing it, encouraging it. wanting it. i did not hate him, and i did not hate you, but i did not want what was happening.

i did it because i am owned and because i did not have a choice. not because i was happy or comfortable or wanted it or turned on. because i saw the look on his face when he knew i did not like it and it solidified there as lust.

kaya's tag

2008-09-27T08:54:00.002-04:00

funny to see people i'm so much like and yet so different. i love these things.

1. Do you like blue cheese?
yep. i gotta be careful though not to drown whatever-it-is i'm eating it with or i get the evil "i'm gonna change your diet" eye.

2. Have you ever smoked heroin?
uh, no. gross.

3. Do you own a gun?
nope. i have on occasion wanted to, though.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic?
i don't think i understand this question.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
inexplicably, yes. i think it's just 'cause i hate interrupting my so-called life with them.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
filler food for munchkins. they are on my "not allowed" list.

7. Favorite Christmas Song?
"have yourself a merry little christmas", but that's about it.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
flavored coffee. a lot of it. with cream and splenda. which is on the endangered list, since my owner hates flavored.

9. Can you do push ups?
if i had to.

10. What was the name of your first girlfriend/boyfriend?
darren? i think? in, like, 7th grade?

11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
my "live, love, laugh" ring. and my nose ring, since it doesn't come out. (i like stability)

12. Favorite hobby?
sleeping. ha. no, um, reading.

13. Do you work with people who idolize you?
i used to. but not anymore. now i'm on the lowest rung of the totem pole. ("right where you belong," says D.)

14. Do you have A.D.D.?
nope.

15. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself?
my occasional bouts of insecurity.

16. Middle name?
n/a

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
a)i should really be soaking my (injured) back in the tub right now instead of sitting at a desk typing
b)i really, really need to squeeze in some background-research type work today.
c)the garbage smells and i need to get to the dump. today.

18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday.
a) dinosaur egg oatmeal
c) hamburger
d) peace of mind.

19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink.
a) flavored coffee
b) seltzer water
c) sperm

20. Current worry right now?
my hurting back and when it's going to get better.

21. Current hate right now?
the windy wily process for getting health insurance.

22. Favorite place to be?
i used to say the olympic peninsula in washington state. now, mebbe a particular place in update new york. but that might be too sappy.

23. How did you bring in the New Year?
in front of a beautiful fire with incredible music and a lot of loving people making it.

24. Where would you like to go?
back to visit in seattle. san francisco to see the armory in it's new glory.

25. Name three people who will complete this?
uh. K, M, and M?

26. Whose answer do you want to read the most?
i love these things, i'll read 'em all.

27. What color shirt are you wearing?
heavy gray sweater that used to be my dad's, glasses, pajama pants.

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
no - they make me feel moist. gross.

29. Can you whistle?
yep. very well, thanks.

30. Favorite color(s)?
green.

31. Would you be a pirate?
nah - i'd rather be the abused pirate captive.

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?
hippie folk songs.

33. Favorite girl’s name?
? i dunno. never thought about it. madeline, i guess. that's pretty.

34. Favorite boy’s name?
i always liked owen.

35. What’s in your pocket right now?
no pockets.

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
my owner "boinking" my nose in the middle of a conversation just because he could. it was hysterically funny, although it really doesn't sound funny when i write it.

37. Best bed sheets as a child?
the only ones i remember had big orange cabbage roses on it.

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had?
i've sprained my ankles so badly so many times it's a miracle i can even walk sometimes.

39. Do you love where you live?
it's okay.

40. How many TVs do you have in your house?
2. one we don't use.

41. Who is your loudest friend?
as in volume? i dunno. B, i guess. but that's because i mostly talk to her on her cell phone when she's yelling so i can hear her. loudest personality wise? would have been A, but i haven't really seen her in a loooong time.

42. How many dogs do you have?
nada.

43. Does someone have a crush on you?
i sure as hell hope so - it's very flattering.

44. Who is your favorite president?
carter, i guess. i'm not so much a politics fan.

45. What is your favorite book?
the mists of avalon. but more recently, ahab's wife.

46. What is your favorite candy?
i'm not really a candy fan, but i do on occasion get to have fancy dark chocolate in tiny pieces fed to me from my owner's fingers, which i really really love.

47. What is your favorite sports team?
i don't do sports.

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
something happy. i could never choose - too much music in my life is beloved.

49. What were you doing 12 AM last night?
sleeping.

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?
should i take my freebie orgasm now, or later?

the finer details

2008-09-21T08:08:00.003-04:00

in response to my earlier post all the time, i got some lovely dialog going (on my other blog, mostly identical to this one). to clarify one of the responses, which said (and i'm taking out of context, but...) "Essentially you could say, 'I'm sick of this shit' and walk away. "

"when D and i ended our contract, there was a strange nebulous time when we didn't know what was going to happen next. i was no longer his formally contracted submissive, and technically i had the option of not being that, or anything else, again. for me, there is one huge primary difference between being a submissive and being a slave, and that is that as a slave i cannot say "i'm sick of this shit" and leave.

i mean, i could try.

but i have agreed to give him the right to not allow that to happen.

he might allow it to happen, if he was sick of it, too. or if he saw that it simply wasn't healthy for me and he wanted me to be healthy. or he himself might end it if he was sick of it, even if i wasn't. all of those things are possible (and currently undesireable, i believe, by both of us), and i don't think i'd have entered into a M/s relationship with him if i didn't believe he could make intelligent decisions about all that. (yah - the "trust" thing).

but ultimately, it is not up to me. and that's what makes me a slave, and that's what makes this an absolute relationship. which is what allows me to trust him, which is what makes the sex hot, which is what gratifies me on a spiritual level. it's that simple fact."

a bedtime story

2008-09-20T19:12:00.002-04:00

i have never been as amazed by someone's hands.

i don't wear a collar. and if i'm honest, this is just fine with me. i do have your collar - i rarely wear it. it's a sweet black leather strip with a lovely silver ring on it - perfect for leashing your loyal bitchproperty. but it's a tool, not a symbol.

i also sleep by your side. sometimes curled up my cheek resting on your back. sometimes hugging your hand with you curled around me like i'm a cunt-scented bedtime snuggly. your hand rests sometimes on my hip or back and there is no forgetting that you are there, and always the wispy memory of your snarl "mine," as i drift off to sleep, my lips puffy and sore and throat scratchy and cunt leaking.

your hands always touch me in your sleep. like a key for a lock.

all the time

2008-09-18T20:36:00.000-04:00

"I never worry
Now that is a lie..."

- rhcp, under the bridge

i've been thinking a lot about this whole 24/7 concept. i'm not all that interested in changing anyone's mind about their own definition of it. i'm also not that interested in making changes to my own relationship because of what someone else thinks it means. recently i was reading a blogger who i respect a great deal, and their (what i consider to be) rigid opinion of this disappointed me. i'm just not one to argue the point, but it's made me think about it.

so here's the thing. conceptually, a "24/7" arrangement is one where there is no break. there's no time out, there's no re-negotiation, there's no aftercare (in the sense that there is no "after"). but the challenge becomes how we think about obedience, service, and control.

there are vanilla relationships that are 24/7. those people are never *not* in the relationship because they aren't living together. parenting is 24/7. but when your kid is, say, at overnight camp, or visiting their other parent for a visit, you're not not a parent. why is it any different with M/s relationships? the assumption seems to be that unless you are directly under someone's use and control you are not in a 24/7 arrangement.

i think that's crap. unless you have your slave literally in your line of vision or otherwise chained up while they are not.

my point is, that i am not doing my owner's bidding every.single.second. because (surprise! shocker!) he doesn't have the freakin' time to direct when i take a breath, eat a cracker, sigh, or sit. sometimes his directions are simply to take care of it myself. i am 24-hours-a-day, 7-days-a-week, doing what he wants. and sometimes that's to just leave him in peace.

isn't that the point of being a slave? a slave is what i am, not what i do, or where i live.

desperation and a note

2008-09-17T16:17:00.000-04:00

"Hello, hello... (Hola)
I'm at a place called Vertigo (dónde estás?)
It’s everything I wish I didn’t know
But you give me something...
I can feel..."

-U2, vertigo

a conversation the other day and the virtually simultaneous realization about the nature of chaos. i don't always succeed in pleasing you, and this leaves me spinning in my head wondering what move to make next to come back to balance.

this is what i wrote about childhood, and the implications of that within the adult bdsm context:

"the dynamics in my house growing up were confusing, to say the least. i was taught and told some things verbally ("be a strong capable woman!") that deeply conflicted with the actions i was shown. it wasn't necessarily a positive thing. in fact, what i ended up with was extremely confusing regarding who has power/when it should be exerted as an adult. in other words, nothing i was raised with has stuck beyond the expected arousal triggers and wiring, since nothing made sense as far as the power dynamics went.

i think i come to M/s out of a need for order in the midst of chaos, rather than a need to mimic a kind of relationship i saw or wanted as a child. M/s relationships are the only ones that are absolute (in my experience), and that's very comforting to someone who's childhood and examples were very chaotic and misery-making. the sexual part is probably both wiring and context. "

important stuff. at least to me.

distracted

2008-09-16T07:04:00.000-04:00

my new job isn't just about work, it's about a whole different way of thinking about work. i'd become very comfortable in one of two formats - working so i could live, and then not working so i could live. i hadn't ever considered the option of my work being a part of my life.

and there you have it. seamless, so far. i'm learning, i'm doing, i'm contributing.

sounds like life, doesn't it.

thank you, Sir.

on the one hand

2008-09-13T18:42:00.000-04:00

all things are not equal. this is a rule of life, of physics, and of relationships - no matter what the flavor. where there is a lack in one place there is an overage in another. it's just the way it works.

you cannot love her the way you love me. nor can you love me the way you love her. i understand this - all things are not equal.

the ease with which you love her does not come easily to us. there is a past, a history, a pedestal to balance on. we have had only a tentative time with a multitude of factors, and she is not the same as me, and we will never be equal.

different and equal, which has never been the same thing as fair.

but this isn't always fair, is it.

this sounds like i am angry or sad or dissatisfied, and it's none of those. i'm just now reaching an understanding that you asked me for earlier that i did not achieve then.

nothing more than this.

2008-09-12T20:04:00.000-04:00

"I'll never be able to thank You in any way other than to be myself."

-bitchwhore4

his puppet

2008-09-11T18:19:00.003-04:00

a huge, huge stroke of luck this week. my impending career change has manifested, and with some trepidation i'm moving forward. it's hugely exciting and scary and i kind of feel like i'm out of my league with this, but it's something i've always wanted to do, so it's the right choice.

"the right choice," i just wrote. and i wonder how much of this is a choice. this whole career-job-changing process exemplifies the discussion i always seem to be having about TPE relationships and the "total" part in particular.

you know those stupid questions about "what if you had to disobey your Master to protect your children,"? no matter how many times you try to explain that you wouldn't ever have to make that choice, the question materializes "hypothetically" about once a month in some format. i'm so sick of that question i could spit.

giving my owner control over my life's work, my career path, income, financial stability - yeah, it's a big one. but like the "Master or kids?" question, it's kind of a moot point, because i can't imagine him making a choice that would be ultimately detrimental to me. in fact, the choices he's made and the pushes he's given and the directions he's pulled me in have only given me the strength to go down a career path i'd never have the guts to do on my own. i'm hellaciously nervous, but he's absolutely right about this: it's something i've always wanted and will ultimately make me a person who lives fulfilled and with joy.

he's also right about something else. he called me his puppet, and i am. can't you see how that's the right word, and how it's not a choice, and how questioning that is just ridiculous?

("puppet master" by Michael Parkes)

an oldie but goodie

2008-09-08T15:20:00.001-04:00

"...and some stayed on to finish what they started
They never parted, they're just built that way..."

-the band, "acadian driftwood"

you expect me to hand over trust like a candy. i've got a hard shell just like you, and i smile pretty, but my teeth are just as sharp.

goddammit i want to believe. my reasons for choosing to keep moving forward at times are selfish, because i don't want to disappoint *myself*. but that's as important to me, still, as not disappointing you, so it'll do in a pinch.

okay, let's go, i'm in.

the high cost of gasoline.

2008-09-08T07:30:00.000-04:00

"Subdrop is a state of depression and moodiness that often occurs after a heavy scene or where the submissive is away from their dominant for an extended period of time. Subdrop can happen quickly or it may not manifest itself for several days after the scene. It may also appear as the result of being away from a relationship where feelings of love and submission are particularly strong."

untitled

2008-09-07T10:37:00.001-04:00

desperate note to self: it is not up to me to decide what he needs or does not need.

other voices other lives

2008-09-05T20:46:00.002-04:00

in another life, i would have become a farmer. i swear this is true, despite the misgivings of everyone i've ever known, and the fact that i have what is commonly known as a "black thumb".

it's not so much that i'm interested in dawn-to-dusk physical toil, or that i enjoy being outside in all kinds of weather. it's that it's a ritualistic way of life. there are things to do at dawn that must be done, ablutions and salutations and sacrifices. i'm down with that. there are things that must be done at dusk, too - closings, endings, and yet more sacrifices.

it takes bravery to really live your life. i was going to write about how it takes bravery to be a slave, or a dominant, or a mother, or an artist.

but really, whatever form it takes, you need to be brave to get through it. what this life has handed me has made me brave and courageous and proud.

something came up today that i am ashamed of. for no obvious reason - it's an aspect of myself i am still coming to terms with, and my owner has challenged me to determine where the shame comes from, because it is incongruous with the rest of me.

i don't know yet. i'm working on it.

(photo credit to Chris Johnson, "Mirror")

the chances we take

2008-09-04T13:01:00.001-04:00

how many times, do you think, does someone get another chance before the chances are all gone?

just a thought.

(photo credit: little green man, quilt by vanessa brisson.)

the very definition

2008-08-30T21:32:00.000-04:00

ob·scene: (ŏb-sēn', əb-) adj. 1. Offensive to accepted standards of decency or modesty. 2. Inciting lustful feelings; lewd.

last night when my owner was fucking me on the floor my face muffled unforgivingly in the rough carpet, my arms pinned down and my feet mercifully loose but trapped by the position, he firmly lodged the laptop on my back and continued his conversations pausing only periodically to lodge himself further inside me or to force my face harder into the carpet. there were small noises of pleasure, but i think they were mostly because he found his conversation partners charming. due to an incident of forgetfulness earlier in the day, i was (am) on orgasm restriction until further notice.

it was a long night.

a small untruth

2008-08-27T13:02:00.001-04:00

a long time ago i said something about not being interested in daddy/girl play - it's not my 'thing'. that's not - entirely true.

i've avoided this topic because it's so convoluted and twisted and uncomfortable and different from what i see a lot of other people doing with this dynamic.

most of the folks i see playing with a Daddy dynamic are doing something very cool. from what i can tell, they're getting a pretty nurturing, discipline-heavy kind of thing. the s-types in this dynamic (as i see them) have a need for a caretaker in some capacity, but one who on some level shows affection and love for them. the stone-cold Master isn't what they're looking for (or need, sometimes) - their reasons for submitting, obeying are about the affection they get from Daddy in return.

it's not like that for me.

my owner takes very, very good care of me. we walk a weird path that involves objectification, slavery, service, and a great deal of affection between two people. what i get from him is the same care and attention i see him giving his other valued posessions. there's an attention to detail, a *quality* to this that i'm attracted to ongoing. his posessions, his home, are so uniquely *his* - and i want to be a part of that. there's also a coldness to his treatment of me - a distance he somehow manages to maintain despite how close we are as individuals. i wonder at this ability, because it's one i've never posessed and rarely see in others.

my daddy isn't like that. he isn't cold, he isn't my friend, he isn't nice, and he doesn't take any care of me. he's a singular purpose of a man, one that takes extreme advantage with total disregard for my well being. my daddy mocks me, tortures me.

i don't know if this is role play or not when daddy arrives, because i am never as truly afraid as i am then. and that's the truth of it.

annhilation nation

2008-08-27T09:55:00.001-04:00

"it's not 'your' world, any more than it is 'your' orgasm."

it's not my world, it's yours, and i just live here.

i am nothing, (no)thing, and really, there is no "i". speaking in third person seems appropriate when the self vaporizes, only captured by a wish and your will. today a day when this-thing-that-is-yours is fluttering and waiting to have substance again at your feet.

(pic credit from blog observantbystander)

parting

2008-08-26T18:16:00.000-04:00

i'm struck by the fact that i'm not new to this.

one of the most intense parts of play for anyone, i think, is that raw breaking feeling you get when you meet someone for the first time - the shakes, the giggles, the mouth-parted-eyes-focused newness of it all. your cunt is wet, your feet are dancing in their shoes, and you're wildly terrified, blown away by your own audacity and opportunities.

i could be new to someone, but no longer new to myself. i treasure each act i've never done before, each new scenario, every touch he gives me, every new season we're doing this together. but it's not the same thing as being brand, spanking, new.

revisit

2008-08-26T08:19:00.003-04:00

Today i revisit my own post, compersion - a love story.

there's nothing quite like being able to exclaim with giddiness "go, go! and take condoms!" to your owner.

i keep waiting for the bout of nausea to set in, when the world tips sideways and the idea of standing up straight and facing the day and the rollercoasters in it seems impossible. but it hasn't happened yet. i'm thrilled, i'm fascinated, and i'd do almost anything to be riding in his back pocket watching.

(photo credit to the website "poly matchmaker". yep.)

together forever

2008-08-25T08:09:00.001-04:00

i live in a town with a lot of colleges nearby. it's almost labor day, and there's a lot of youngsters and their parents milling around, reading maps and checking out cute new england - stuff.

a lot of moms and daughters. one of my favorite things to see is a mom and daughter duo walking down the sidewalk, looking like younger/older replicas of each other. i wonder if they see each other, and see what they'd have looked like in different clothes, in a different era.

i don't get along with my own mother. oh, i do - in a superficial hugs-when-we-meet kind of way. i know this is heartbreaking for her, as she seems to want nothing more than to be able to say "i am close to my daughter." but we're not close.

i've been ruminating on my limits, my reasons. and a recent experience made me recognize that who i am as a woman, the kind of woman i am, has a great deal to do with my mother, but in the opposite way you'd expect.

i will not be afraid. i will not anticipate the wrongness of life, dread oncoming pain and trouble and fear. when bad things happen it is not because i deserve it or because the fates hate me.

the fates are neutral, and blind, and will weave my fate as they see fit. be here now, and bring it on, i say.

(photo credit: gwyneth paltrow and her mother, blythe danner.)

priceless

2008-08-15T19:33:00.003-04:00

formula for satisfaction:

1x250 year old farmhouse + 5 days of vacation x 95% humidity factor / 1xshop vac = very happy service slave

how did i ever live without a shop vac?

box

2008-08-11T10:05:00.003-04:00

"why can't i just be nice?" you said, mocking me as you twisted my skin. my hands hung limply at my sides, because it doesn't occur to me anymore to try and stop you.

whatever became of the expectations i used to have of men? of how they are, what i know of their internal puzzles and foci, whatever assemblages of personality they'd made for themselves, i'd set about unfolding it until i saw their heart and judged it. yes, i did - i made judgments and assessments about who they were, and once i'd done that i was numb to it. it was over.

you are a chinese box, and i feel simple and small next to you. the pain you give me makes me need you and hate you and know that i would do it, whatever it is, that you ask. it's not so much a "gift" of submission as it is a helpless offering to the only higher power i understand.

shy

2008-08-06T07:21:00.003-04:00

i used to really like being on top. not dominant, but physically. on top. riding, so to speak. it was the best, easiest way i could come, a sure-fire way to make everyone happy when the time arrived.

i belong on the bottom. not the top. being ridden, used, dominated, works much better, i've found, these days. in the animal kingdom, the stronger one is always on top - the physical sensation of being overpowered has an emotional effect in our subconscious.

so when you tell me to get on top, i'm dismayed - it doesn't fit me anymore. it's not appropriate. but i know what you want, i know what you want to see, as you rest your head on pillows and watch. it's hard to let go when someone is watching you like a movie, custom-designed. you are interested, aroused, sometimes amused. but you never smile.

care and maintenance

2008-08-02T13:54:00.003-04:00

you take good care of me.

you take damned good care of your chainsaw. i saw that first, and then made my choice.

i had no doubt that your care and maintenance required for owning a person would be any less attentive than that. sometimes, when i stopped to think about it, i wondered if the fact that what *i* would deliver as care and maintenance would be different, mattered. this amounted to me discovering that i didn't always agree with your choices about how to care and maintain - me. would our goals be similar? did that matter?

but damn, man. look at your chainsaw.

my new theme song

2008-07-29T18:53:00.003-04:00

"Got my window open wide
Got my window open wide
Got a good woman by my side
Got a good woman by my side

Now this kind of day
Has no night
This kind of day
Has no night
Ain't got much on my mind
Ain't got much on my mind

'Cause I know
Something good this way comes

Now watching the streets
Filling up
Watching the streets filling up
In the shade of the summer sun
In the shade of the summer sun

Got sweet apple pie on the stove
Got sweet apple pie on the stove
The birds they're all flyin' low
The birds they're all flyin' low

'Cause they know
Something good this way comes

The trouble, doll
Is not moving mountains, but
Digging the ground that you're on
If it's true
That good fortune gives no chase
We got just what it takes

Collar up on my coat
Collar up on my coat
Trucks are pullin'
In for the show
Trucks are pullin'
In for the show

Grasshopper jump in the road
Grasshopper jump in the road
Kids they're all running home
The kids
They're all running home

'Cause they know
Something good this way comes
Yeah
Something good this way comes

The trouble, doll
Is not moving mountains, but
Digging the ground
That you're on
If it's true
That good fortune
Gives no chase
We got just what it takes
Got my window open wide
Got my window open wide
Got a good woman by my side
Got a good woman by my side

'Cause I know
Something good this way comes..."

-jakob dylan

photo credit to "mandy" in picasaweb.

cheesy ode to ownership

2008-07-28T19:31:00.005-04:00

i don't have anything sexy to say. no big scary scene to report, no emotional access gate openings.

what i can say is that daily, i am impressed by my owner, just as a person. just who he is, what he's about. the cool thing is that he's one of those people i just - like to be around. makes me feel good about myself, and who *i* am. i'm so over not feeling good about myself, and i can't tell you how nice it is to wake up every day and recognize that he has, actually, made me a better person by simply being who he is.

i'm lucky, and grateful, to have such a person in my life.

the multiple hats of luna

2008-07-26T15:19:00.004-04:00

i'm having a hard time writing about this issue, and i kinda know the reason. i'm having a hard time because writing a blog is like writing on a circular stage, with the audience ever changing. the "characters" in the blog, including myself, my owner, the him's, and the her's, have their own identities somewhat separate from the realities of who we all are. i'm a writer, and i can't help but try to present consistency in the characters i'm presenting.

so i don't like to present issues that fuck with that consistency. that's kinda vague, but for better or worse, this blog ain't so much interactive about that.

i wear a lot of hats in my relationship with my owner, not just the one i call slave. i think i really do prefer the label property, if i get to choose, because that implies so much more, i think, than the restrictive "slave" label. no, i never get to choose, i don't have any privacy, and the only things that remain under my control in my life are the things my owner has decided are best that way, with the understanding that said issues are under my control are a privilege, not a right.

one of the hardest hats i wear is idea-bouncer. it's not the most disliked (that's my hat called "official floor cleaner"), but it's the hardest. i know my owner trusts me to present not only the truth at all times, but to be proactive about it when necessary. every time i speak out of turn i'm taking a risk that it will not be acceptable or appreciated. if he didn't ask me for my opinion, i'd better have a damned good reason for saying it.

i am always aware of this.

don't get me wrong - i talk a lot. a *lot*. and often proactively.

so yeah, i take a lot of risks, even when i speak.

that's me, risk taking owned bitch. livin' on the edge.

(image author unknown, found on the blog "the tempest files".pretty, though, ain't it?).

caught

2008-07-25T08:51:00.002-04:00

there are two types of fantasies i incorporate.

type 1: things that actually happen, things i replay in my head. things that could actually happen. people i know, have seen, have touched me or used me.

type 2: plotlines. sometimes from stories i've read, sometimes horrifying conglomerations of images i've seen. inevitably they are impossible, due to the characters involved, or the setting, or the fact that i'd probably be permanently injured or die somehow if it actually happened.

used to be, the people in both types were foggy - their faces blurred, and there was the stand-in generic "scary man", or "dominant woman". sometimes i could pinpoint the color of their hair. or how tall they were.

my owner now has the starring role in pretty much all of them. it's been a long time since a fantasy i had did not involve him personally in some way. mostly, i think, his eyes. pale blue, they pin me down like a butterfly under glass. i can't escape it, and most of my fantasies involve his eyes watching me somehow. he witnesses who i am far deeper than anyone has, and it's not always a pleasant feeling. more than his rules, his expectations, or even his hands, his eyes hold me locked down. inescapable.

slice of life

2008-07-21T14:17:00.004-04:00

emptied from my handbag upon returning from leg #1 of summer vacation:

- tootsie pop (unopened, melted)
- gas receipts totaling approximately $125
- .75 lb in change
- black signal whip needing conditioning
- pink lace panties
- business card for bee farm
- four tubes of half-used blistex/chapstick
- tissues, in both unused and used condition (multiple, too many to count, with varying body fluids attached)
- wine bottle corks (2)
- dinosaur stickers
- replacement batteries (can be used for vibrator or battery-operated pokedex)
- conch shells
- yellow rain ponchos (still in package, 3)
- sand, sand, and more sand
- gardenia-scented lotion bottle
- "young ranger" coloring book
- four rubber bands (blue, extra wide)
- 7 hairclips (can be used for pleasant hair-styling purposes or mean skin-clipping ones)

...and there's still over a month to go...

an apology

2008-07-19T21:34:00.003-04:00

"An apology pretends to cancel out whatever action, or in this case nonaction, caused injury or offense, but it doesn't carry the same significance or weight as the action or nonaction itself, not even close."

- Kate Christensen, "The Epicure's Lament"

i stared down my desire for an apology until i no longer needed it, or even wanted it. when i live in a world where action is louder than words, where what you do is more significant than anything i could say, or you could say, i can't expect an apology, especially where one is not obligated to do so.

why do we teach our children to apologize when they've done something wrong? they never mean it. it's never heartfelt, or genuine - at most, what we get is an acknowledgment that someone somewhere has determined that they cannot continue on their way until they pay this particular toll. they rarely understand why they're required to do so, and i'm not sure i get it either anymore. so much of what i do is outside of the norm, why should i play by the same rules at this, too?

i know that i am obligated to apologize when i have done something wrong. i know that you are not. i'm not sure what significance there is to the words coming out of my mouth, or not coming out of yours, if really what matters is what happened. i'd much rather say something like "i'll do my best to not let it happen again," rather than mutter some nonsense about guilt that i may or may not feel.

and what about you? yes, my feelings get hurt sometimes. i may be an objectified devoted human, but still human.

you are never required to apologize. and as usual, i watch your actions instead.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

2008-07-15T16:57:00.003-04:00

the whole brat thing confuses me. cuteness, i get. whip-smart i get. i even get i'm-not-actually-submissive-but-i-am-a-slave. but i've never been able to wrap my brain around the brat concept. i mean, i get it from an intellectual standpoint (gosh knows you'll never find me saying something is *wrong* with it), i just can't seem to put myself into that particular role with any success. it doesn't come naturally.

i've been up and down and through all the thinking about why i do things my owner requires or directs when i don't want to. big things and little things. (last night, for example, he added more vegetables than i wanted to my plate. i ate them.) i don't think i'm in a place yet where i never ever consider not obeying - i can't claim internal enslavement. there's often a brief second or two of "but i don't wanna," before i do it.

so why? it's never been about love. it's sometimes about trust, but that's not really the constant.

i think the reason i do it, for him, is respect. every time i obey, even when i don't want to, it's about showing respect. he deserves that, i think. if i *don't* do whatever-it-is, then i am actively disrespectful. *that*, i don't want to do. i can't bear to think about how he would feel if i were disrespectful. and i guess in my twisted brain, brattiness is the ultimate show of disrespect.

no disrespect to anyone who likes brats, of course.

happiness

2008-07-13T11:54:00.002-04:00

"...happiness
is a warm gun..."

- The Beatles

how do you make someone happy? i'm asking this, and it's a two-sided question. part one involves is it possible to force, make, coerce, your property to change it's feelings? and part two, is it possible, or correct, to use the phrase, "you make me happy"?

i'm not always in a good mood. in fact, i've been characterized as moody, brooding, tempermental, sad. sometimes happy, balanced, too, but that's more recent. and sometimes i'm not having a good time. yes, i serve my owner happily most of the time, and it's gratifying to do so. sometimes i serve him and i am not happy about it. sometimes he has me do things i don't enjoy, and would otherwise not do. large gatherings (otherwise known as "parties") for example. i hate 'em, i'm no good at them. i'm a terrible wallflower, i have not much of interest to say to anyone, especially when i don't really know them. i'm - uh - shy.

i know this doesn't make him happy. it doesn't make me happy, either. so there we both are, not happy. and yet, we do make each other happy overall.

can he make me enjoy myself? no, but he can make me fake it. he doesn't like the faking it, either, though.

i suppose all property has it's limitations. you can't make a laundry machine cook your dinner, and you can't make your car be a nanny.

another reason i can't be at the other side of the dynamic, an owner, a dominant, a top, even, anymore. i don't understand what to do with someone else's limitations. is it trainable? forceable? i suppose somehow it's brainwash-able - to force me to somehow enjoy something i don't otherwise.

thinking about all this, in it's own ironic way, makes me happy though.

the right phrase

2008-07-12T21:46:00.001-04:00

"...a love so violent it was almost it's opposite."

-A.S. Byatt, "Babel Tower"

notes from the world

2008-07-10T20:27:00.002-04:00

just a brief stop during my whirlwind summer vacation. lots of bites (from both bugs and owner), a little sunburn. i tried catching up on all the various blogs and discussion groups i'm usually on top of, but you know what? i'm in a nice place - i know who i am and i've gained some footing lately in my life, and i just don't care that much to keep saying it.

i'm reading A.S. Byatt's "Babel Tower". She has a lot to say about language and it's uses. it makes me think instead of speak so much. these days i'm getting fond of the "actions speak louder than words" theory, so i'm sort of trying to put it into practice.

no, i'm not done writing. i'm just spending some time practicing what i preach: Be Here Now.

annifuckiversary

2008-07-05T08:58:00.002-04:00

i just want to take a moment or two to make note. a year ago i met my now owner in person for the first time. a drink or two, a hot stare between barstools, and some time fogged up in the car. a lucky friendship, more than anything else. it's been a tough year, but an excellent, excellent one.

thank you, Sir, for one of the best years of my life.

happy annifuckiversary.

accompanied

2008-07-03T18:05:00.002-04:00

being the slave of a musician has it's own unique perspective. any slave is subject to the whim of their owner, but on occasion i run into challenges i never expected. i love music, and am horrified to imagine a life without some sort of soundtrack to my own life playing gently in the background at all times. don't you ever drive down a road and know exactly what song would be playing?

i am unquestionably lucky that my owner not only tolerates my preferences, but for the most part, shares them. he's introduced me to music that i wouldn't really appreciate otherwise, and i get to pepper him with questions about the technical details of all that musical stuff i never understood before. for example, a thorough explanation of fusion jazz and why it sucks.

i don't sing very well. i like to sing, but my musical experience is more instrumental that vocal, and i'd much rather holler along in the shower than do anything remotely performance related. i did my time in high school band, thanks, i'm done now. but i love, love, love hearing my owner perform - even in the privacy of his own home, where i'm sometimes lucky enough to make (gasp!) requests. he's also an excellent coach and teacher - i've seen him coax performances from people unwilling, and even untalented.

to say that i am embarrassed to sing in public is putting it mildly. i was horrified when my owner made me do it. it wasn't a big deal for him, and in fact he was justifiably annoyed and pissed that i balked.

i just.couldn't.do.it. i was physically unable to do it. my brain shut my mouth for me and that was that. i do remember thinking that i would rather take a bloody beating in public than do this. i'm shocked at myself, hot with embarrassment (not humiliation - there was zero erotic about it), and i have no idea what to do about it.

funny where we find our limitations.

thingness

2008-06-28T09:12:00.004-04:00

i've been involved in some conversations on the 'net lately in which i've clarified my "major" kink (if indeed a person can have just one) as objectification. i thought it was control, but really, i suppose, that's just inherently a part of the basest element.

this isn't about being turned into a piece of furniture. that's not particularly hot in an of itself. i'm talking about losing one's person-hood, one's individuality, their sense of self and separate-ness from the rest of humanity.

i am too much inside my own head - i've always lived hard inside my skull, and i'm often told i think too much and too fast. i have always felt separate and alone and different and not-quite-with-the-pack. in a backwards kind of way, being objectified and turned inside out into something that i cannot achieve on my own brings me closer to the world around me and i am able to feel a part of it, and have a purpose.

we all wear masks, all the time. when you objectify me, mine is stripped off. i am then whole and home in my body and living in truth.

the rules

2008-06-25T20:37:00.005-04:00

i thought i'd post these - they're kind of interesting, when i step back a bit. i hear so much talk from s-types about the attempt at weight-loss, overall health, and submission together that i thought i'd be interesting to actually post my rules per my owner. i've taken them somewhat from an earlier comment i made on the last post. i should also mention that i don't currently have weight or health issues that these are specifically aimed at - it's an overall consciousness of health kind of thing.

1. no sugar treats with no nutritional value. period. ever. for example, vanilla yogurt is okay (not great), but not ice cream. very rarely do i get sugar treats (like, once every few weeks, if that.) i believe i've broken this rule exactly once. i'm scared to ever do it again.

2. i am required to track every single non-water item that goes in. (and out, for that matter.) writing it down makes me super-conscious of it. this is an intense rule - it's really hard sometimes to write it all down. i keep a notepad on my kitchen counter. he checks it periodically, and randomly.

3. i tend to eat carbs when i'm tired (especially now since i don't get sugar), so i have to be careful i'm not eating too much bread, or he makes note of it and structures an actual diet for a while. "sweet" kind of bagels are out, as are (ahem) english muffins. no sweet rolls, no croissants.

4. i've found that i *have* to eat a large portion of protein first meal of the day (eggs, cheese, something) and not just fruit - i tend to sugar crash and binge later.

5. in the last month, i'm now required to eat a *large* portion of greens if i want an orgasm that day. the window for opportunity is open daily, but closes at the close of each day (in other words, no saving it for the next day). this is new, and i'll probably lose that opportunity as soon as the greens are more common in my diet per his liking.

6. 8oz of water once a day. this also used to be tied to orgasm control, since i'm not a big water drinker, but now it's incorporated enough that that's gone. juice, tea, etc are not acceptable. only water.

7. i keep a huge bowl of fruit on my counter. i eat a lot of yogurt. and nuts. i tend to snack on dairy more than he'd like, so i've gotten a raised eyebrow over that, but nothing else. yet.

8. i'm counting myself lucky i still get coffee. i still also get diet coke as i want it, but he hates that, and i'm expecting it'll be off my list pretty soon. i drink it less now though on my own, so maybe not.

9. sets of crunches daily before bed. about 40.

10. twice weekly yoga classes, and one valiant attempt at cardio weekly. i used to use the treadmill but hurt my knee badly last year, so now i use the elliptical machine. about 2 miles, doesn't matter how long it takes. in general, the expectation is that i can handle a medium-length day hike without strain.

11. yoga poses through the week as i can fit them in. that's pretty easy - they help my overall physical well being, so i like this part. it's the class i have trouble with.

12. nightly yoga stretches.

13. i also detail for him when i'm feeling - poorly, for lack of a better word. very rarely i ask for permission to skip the nightly routine, and sometimes i even get it.

again, it's important to note, i think, that this routine is meant for overall improvement and some slight weight loss. it's more about toning and maintenance than a definitive goal.

no, i couldn't do it on my own.

driven insane by food rules

2008-06-24T21:17:00.008-04:00

i want sugar. not yoga. i want:

oreo cookies
lemon meringue pie
key lime pie
chocolate mousse
creme brulee
a hershey bar, with almonds
mocha latte
non-diet coke
brownies
cheesecake
strawberry shortcake
mudslide sundae
goobers
jelly beans
birthday cake
pancakes

some days, i feel like i'm just going to snap.

you'd think after all this time i'd either just give in a realize it ain't gonna happen and find some fucking peace about it, or give in and take the consequences.

somehow i can't seem to do either. this isn't a whine, this is a helpless, sweating-it-out in a daily basis kind of thing. i rarely get angry at my owner, and when i do, it's almost inevitably about food.

the other day, i asked and received permission to eat an english muffin with cheese. this was a moment to note because bread is on the "my eyebrow is raised you'd better watch it" list. not completely forbidden, but it's not exactly high on the "wonderful!" list, either. but before i could run off and take full advantage of the permission as given (as i'm wont to do these days - i no longer stand around hemming and hawing and looking gift horses in the mouth) he added "with an egg." not a big deal, no?

but i didn't want an egg.

what i wanted was freedom to pick my own goddamned breakfast the way i wanted it. i was so incredibly pissed off that i sat my ass down on the couch in the other room and fumed about it. to the point where i resentfully thought to myself, "fine. i won't eat anything, then."

which doesn't work, now, does it. especially when you're hungry.

so i got up, cooked the goddamned stupid egg, stuck it on my now-tasteless english muffin, and ate it.

yeah, slavery is so glamorous i can't stand it. the extra-sad thing about all this is that i know my owner is going to read this and laugh hysterically, and then eliminate english muffins. sigh.

**edit** yeah, we're all shocked. indeed, hysterical laughter and a new addition to the forbidden list: english muffins.

This house is a broken palace

2008-06-22T20:38:00.006-04:00

"As a slave, without choices, rights or anything to my name, the only thing I thought I have is my pride. Without it, I'm nothing. But is it his plan to take that away from me as well?

Is a slave nothing without pride or should a slave have nothing including pride?"

- a subtle slavegirl

a tension-filled weekend. not bad, actually, a lot of fun. but so many things and pieces of our lives turned into confetti and co-mingling and i'm not very good at filtering through it all on-the-spot like a grown-up should, so it all gets prioritized and can make one crazy with too many things to think about at once. i'm a grown-up, yes, but your girl, your little girl, too.

i mis-read something over your shoulder and thought i'd read instead a title - This house is a broken palace.

no i never needed to be broken but i break into pieces like confetti at the slightest word from you.

you close me off from air, from orgasm, from pride and from shame simultaneously. somehow you manage this without turning me into an empty husk but instead full to the brim with thoughts and thinking and a tightly closed mouth.

photo credit to AsIFearTomorrow on deviantart.com

Scott

2008-06-20T08:26:00.003-04:00

i used to know this guy named scott. scotty. the diminutive was ironic, i suppose, since scotty always seemed well above 6'2", built like a brick wall, and had a flatness in his eyes that implied a past life as an executioner.

he had a slave. well, she was never explicitly called a slave to my knowledge, but looking back on it now i guess she was. i didn't know either of them that well - in passing, enough to say "hihowareyou" at a play party, but i'd heard the gory rumors of the way they played, what they did in private. but i never asked them directly, i just fantasized about the gossip and what they might be doing.

a few years later, they'd apparently "broken up", if you can call it that. all i knew was that they had been a unit, and assumed relationship of an assumed dynamic, and then they - weren't. on occasion i saw her and and her new partner, a lover, a switch, so it endlessly confused me how she'd gone from one extreme dynamic to that.

maybe she fell in love. maybe she fell out of love.

i saw scotty later, on occasion, as well. one momentous scene at a huge play party was a turning point in my own life. i was well-involved in the middle of the room, single-tailing my girl's back with ten bloody stripes. later, as she cuddled against my boots, i watched scott and his new play partner in a alcove in the same room. he'd put black plastic garbage bags lined up against the walls. it wasn't until later when the blood started flying against it that i realized why he'd done that.

i'll never forget the sounds and screams she made. i'd never heard anything publicly so close to nonconsent. i had no idea what prior arrangements, negotiations, agreements, they'd made - only that it sounded very much like it was dark, and bad, and that he had no intention of stopping. i was horrified, and caught, by the sight of what was happening.

no one stopped him.

fifteen years later, i'm at a different place in my life.

i wonder what would happen if i met scott again now.

lather, rinse, repeat.

2008-06-18T19:09:00.003-04:00

it's all cyclical, you know. and i'm far from perfect. my comfort is to make lists of what i am and what i am not, and how i can help and how i am a hindrance, and what she is and what she is not.

what she is not, is present. what she is not, is future. what she is not, is a happy person, or a helpful person, or what either of us wants anywhere near us. i hate that it brings my anxiety and tension and failings and personal drama to the forefront of what i think about.

i hate that she makes me cry, that she has that power.

this isn't about bdsm, this is about life, and me getting over my own damned self. because i owe it to you to be Better Than That. I owe it to Myself.

verbalize me.

2008-06-17T21:03:00.003-04:00

things i am not allowed to say:

nevermind
oy
no i will not (to my owner)
his name
please may i come
i want

things i am required to say:

may i
Sir
yes, Sir
of course, Sir
with all due respect

i'm thisclose to an actual punishment for something off the first list. it's a verbal tic, something i say all the time, and half the time i don't even hear myself say it until he's pointed it out. the first time he put a simple word on the forbidden list i was out of my mind with anxiety - it was a verbal tic as well, and i can't tell you the number of times my face was slapped as a result.

i learned.

i'm not as worried about this one, although i've been pushing it lately. i'm running out of my "warning" zone and into my "punishment" zone. it reminds me of a conversation about punishment i read somewhere - is it right, or fair, to punish your [slave/submissive/cuntpet/whatever] for something as arbitrary as a verbal tic? but it's not really about fairness.

i recently asked my owner whether he thought i needed to be broken. he saw right through me, as usual, and wanted to know if i was envious of other slaves that had been "broken" by their owners. yes, of course, i suppose i am. i need that ultimate pent-up energy unleashed all in one swoop kind of stuff. doesn't everyone?

no, he said. you came to me already broken in. you've been in a constant mode of training ever since.

i'm not sure how that makes me feel. like i'm missing something?

i am. kung fu panda.

2008-06-16T10:57:00.004-04:00

as much as i've always hoped i'd come across as something more akin to angelina jolie, i am instead uplifted by and have found my true hero in Po, the Kung Fu Panda. please view a clip below, which is hysterically similar to my own life.