a day in the life

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.

good news

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

interesting

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

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")

missionaries

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.)

stop the world, i want to get off

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.)

distracted

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.

his puppet

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)

other voices other lives

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")

priceless

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?

care and maintenance

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.

slice of life

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...

accompanied

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.

the rules

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.

my legs hurt.

it's my blog, and i'll whine if i want to.

i re-started my exercise regime in the last month or so. i stopped last fall or so, relying entirely on sex instead, because somehow it seemed like that should just do the trick. i mean, come on. it should, right? but no, no. my owner seems hellbent on making my thighs rock solid, despite my obvious genetic heritage towards sponge-like consistency instead. he started with nightly crunches and crap, and now i've returned to the gym to my thrice-weekly cardio workout.

which i don't mind. i kind of like it. it's a guaranteed time, three times a week, where i can insert ear plugs to music playlists i've designed entirely for myself and zone out. (for the record, i listen to bluegrass and disney music. don't ask.)

but, now the yoga.

in case it's not obvious, i am not a flexible person. i try, dammit, i try, but i'm not. and today, my regular yoga instructor ("....feel the spirit of love entering your skin as you slowly extend your arms outward to embrace it...") was on vacation. so instead it was sara the poweryoganightmare teacher.

i am not strong. i am weak.

but i'm also obedient. so i grumble, i halfheartedly protest, i beg for treats like a good bitch. and i attend my yoga class. onward, ho. (ha!) and no, it's obviously not me in the picture. stupid pretzeling-able wench.

everyday erotic

i was trapped behind the stove. on my butt, wrangling my feet around the ancient claw feet of the old-fashioned gas burning monster he insists is the right way to go, swatting at the dust mountains stuck back there. there was no way in hell i was going to be allowed to get out until it was cleaned out, and to his satisfaction. which was no easy task.

it was, dare i say, immensely gratifying.

we were also having a halfway conversation about "the olden days" [of slavery], and how the olden days Master was most likely out toiling in the fields with his property, or getting shooed out of his own kitchen by the same. most owners during legalized slavery in the united states sure as hell didn't have ginormous estates on which they sat sipping mint juleps on the veranda all day. the fantasy version of Master/slave relationships, the ones that involve chains and ball gags and vibrators, while certainly valid in their own personal way, are in no way similar to the daily functioning of a Master/slave relationship of the civil-war era. nope.

but there we were, re-enacting a scene that was probably happening right around then: property assigned kitchen duties involving a nasty cleanout of old-farmhouse grime in the kitchen while owner chops and hauls wood so neither of us freezes that night in said farmhouse.

and it was hot.

knowing that it's his choice, that i am serving him, that no matter how gross i find the gunk stuck to the floor, i will be finishing this task to his satisfaction. eroticizing the every day, the mundane, makes all of the minutia seem - worthwhile. pointed. and - erotic. that's what makes all of this different from the "olden days". i can't say it's something i "consent" to - because how do you consent to something that is in your very nature? it's like saying - oh, i suppose i'll be blonde. i suppose i'll be submissive now.


(photo credit: i have no idea. but wow - i didn't realize there even *is* a kitchen fetish. is she fucking the faucet? i can't tell.)

a new place

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pricey whore

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i was thinking about you

the windows in the car were open for the first time in months, the little "zip" noise signaling spring. girls in tighter pants and shorter skirts and fewer hats roamed the streets, spilling out of their classrooms as the intellectual men of the town tried not to stare at their bra-less chests and instead kept talking about art.

i was stopped at a red light humming along with lay down sally which i'd set too loud on the radio. i wasn't in a rush.

i was thinking about you and it was sunny and feeling my body under the clothes i was wearing and thinking about the marks on my thighs.

i'm in no rush. i can wait for you.

how i'm feeling

"Seung Sahn would say 'When you eat, just eat. When you read the newspaper, just read the newspaper. Don't do anything other than what you are doing.'

One day a student saw him reading the newspaper while he was eating. The student asked if this did not contradict his teaching. Seung Sahn said 'When you eat and read the newspaper, just eat and read the newspaper.'"

okay, yes, i'm reading a lot of Zen Buddhist philosophy these days. make of that what you will.

along with a lot of other things i've learned, i learned that i should do things with a whole heart. not halfsies. not comprimisies. not - without my full attention. that doesn't mean i'm unable to multi-task; in fact, i'm pretty good at multitasking. what i mean to say is that i have no intention of living my life in which i am not devoted to living.

without ambivalence.

so if that means i live without something because it is ambivalent, or because i cannot do it with a whole heart, then i won't be doing it.

here's hoping i will.