The Journey

Mentoring

2009-12-01T01:35:17Z

My Owner, now Master, pulled into a small parking lot and told me to come with him. I got out of the car and followed him in to a non-descript building. I saw strangers milling around, no one really paying attention to our arrival. Soon thereafter, Master walked up to a gentleman and spoke with him. Up until this point, this stop had seemed like any one of our other innumerable errands that we do in a weekend.

The gentleman looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back. The gentleman came up to me and introduced himself as Aaron. We exchanged introductions and then Master and Aaron asked me to follow them to another room.

I walked into this room and noticed several changing areas. I didn't see anyone else in the room. Master told me to strip and to follow every instruction Aaron gave me. He told me he would be waiting for me.

I, of course, was nervous, but Master had been talking for quite sometime about giving me to another Dominant to "teach me a lesson" and to help me obey him better. I was excited by this prospect. I have always felt that having to obey a stranger, or obey someone that is not my Master and whom I feel a deep desire to impress would be both sexually arousing and also helpful to my growth as property.

I was slowly whisked into a separate room off of the changing room. This was a smaller room. It was very scary. I could not see or hear either Aaron or my Master. All I remember from this room is that it was freezing. Literally freezing. I was walking on ice. I was told to kneel. I was told to lay down. Every inch of my body was numb. I began to shake and cry and wonder when my Master was going to come save me. This is not what I had imagined my "lesson" would consist of.

After what seemed to be an eternity in this freezing room, an older women brought me a blanket, wrapped me up, helped me stand up and ushered me into yet another room. This room was bright, sparsely furnished, but seemed warm compared to the prior room.

I sat down on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket. I saw my Master and Aaron standing in the distance talking, only occasionally looking to check on me. I desperantely wanted them to come over to me. I was too numb to move. There were other girls spread throughout this room, wrapped in blankets. I slowly leaned over, laid down and fell asleep.

Shortly later, the older woman (whose name I later found out to be Anna) was shaking me slightly to wake me up. She began to speak to me about her experience exactly where I was 3 years earlier. I began to cry as I felt I had been to hell and back. How could obeying a voice telling me to freeze my tits and ass off make me a better slave? Anna made it all make sense. Her job was to comfort me. Our conversation soon ended and Anna introduced me to Sasha. Sasha was about my age. Aaron was her Owner. We related. We connected. We spoke for what felt like hours. We compared our experiences. Sasha made me feel comfortable and empathized with my difficulty in always obeying. She made me feel ok with being forced to freeze to death to obey the voice of a stranger.

So much for sexual arousal. :)

Master and Owner came over about an hour later. The four of us decided to go to dinner together that evening. We got in our cars and drove down the road to a specialty grilled cheese shop. We all ordered, shared many rounds of beer and enjoyed each others company.

I have yet to see Aaron or Sasha since this night. I miss them dearly because I finally felt like I had related to another female that had the same difficulty in serving and had overcome it. I do hope that we can see them again soon.

Stress.

2008-05-14T00:36:30Z

For me, today, the opposite of pride is stress. It's so funny how life can turn things upside down on you. I just got back from eating dinner out and having a few hoppy beverages. It was a long day at work. I need stress relief. The kind of stress relief that doesn't come from working out or going to run 6 miles. I needed beer, food, and the Indians on TV. I got what I needed.

Yesterday, I was feeling so proud of myself, but today I have found myself filled with self-doubt. That is the hardest thing about being a lawyer, especially a younger lawyer. You question everything you do. You wonder how your more learned colleagues woud do the same thing. You feel the need to run every little decision by them, just to make sure. I think a lot of my self-doubt at work is related to my submissive nature. I never make decisions at home. My Owner asks for my input, but he always makes the final decision. Only on rare occasions just he ask me to make a decision. When I am put in that position, I know that no matter what I decide it will be the right decision, because my Owner is putting his trust in my decision.

Work is different. I'm expected to have a certain level of intelligence at work. Sometimes the partners don't have time for me. They don't have time for my small little insignificant questions--even though those questions are huge monumental tactical decisions to me.

All of this leads to stress. And the feeling of being overwhelmed. I the fear of my decisions coming back in three months to haunt me.

As a result, I decided to head to my local watering hole to have some dinner and a few drinks. My typical stress relief activity is going to the gym to run my brains out. Tonight, that's not what I needed. I have worked so hard the past two months training for this race on Sunday and going to the gym just to relieve stress did not sound appealing. I feel completely prepared for the race, and needed some relaxation time instead.

I'll get back into the swing of things tomorrow, but I honestly can't remember the last time I went out for dinner and drinks by myself after work. I'm typically so focused on finishing my work for the day, racing home, and getting to the gym, coming home, showering, throwing together dinner, and still having time to speak with my Owner before I fall asleep for the night. When I am stressed I do not feel proud of myself at all. It is the exact opposite. I feel humiliated because I let the stress get the best of me.

Sometimes I wonder whether slaves were meant to be lawyers...

Pride.

2008-05-13T01:21:42Z

Pride is not a word I would ever use to describe a slave, but yet I find myself contemplating how proud I am of myself. I'm proud of myself for going to law school and graduating. I'm proud of myself for consistently working out. I'm proud of myself for being a good human being. I'm proud of myself for realizing my place in the world and embracing it.

Dictionary.com defines pride as "a high or inordinate opinion of ones own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc." An antonym of pride is humility.

My conclusion is that pride isn't a bad thing for a slave. Only when it turns into hubris does it begin to erode the foundation of submission.

I can't imagine not being proud of myself for the things I have accomplished throughout my life. My self-esteem would be next to nothing if I wasn't proud of where I had been and looking forward to where I was going.

I really began to think about this blog entry while I was in the shower this evening. Yes, a weird place to think about this, but it seems like some of my best thoughts come to me in the shower while hot water is pouring over me and steam is everywhere. I began to shave my legs. I shaved the lower half and then moved up to my thighs. While shaving my thighs, I noticed that they seemed more shapely than they have been in a long time. I blinked and ran water over my face. I shaved my other thigh and noticed the same thing. I cracked a small grin, knowing that my hard work at the gym was finally paying off in ways that I could see. I was proud of myself. I immediately wanted to show my Owner, and but for him being two and a half hours away, I would have. He'll just have to wait until the weekend to see how hot is slave is becoming. :)

I am proud that I will look good for him, but the main source of my pride is a reflection of my own hard work. I could only have achieved this by forcing myself awake at 5:30 a.m. to trudge off to the gym for early morning workouts.

I often hear and read that slaves should not be proud. They should be full of humility and meekness. I try to achieve that in my role as a female.  In my case, I know that my moments of pride only make my humility stronger. Let me try to explain. At the same time I am proud, I am humbled by the fact that my life situation has allowed me to do many of the things I am proud of. I was raised in an upper middle-class family, I traveled overseas in grade school and high school, my parents put me through college and provided for me whenever I needed anything. Although I am proud of all of these moments, I am humbled by the fact that not everyone is born into the same family life, and that I may be one of the lucky ones.

As I mentioned before, my pride has helped to enhance my self-esteem. If I had to pick one attribute that I think some slaves are missing, it is self-esteem. I have a very short tolerance for people that are always negative and down on themselves. I am a believer in the idea of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, no matter how bad or hard the situation is, and moving on to bigger and better things. Life is too short to wallow in self-pity. Although a lot of the previous statement are cliche, I try to guide my life by them. This certainly doesn't mean I don't ever have a "fat day" or a horrible day at work. I get down on myself at times, but my Owner is always there to pick me back up. I am thankful for that.

Pride, although by definition it seems like a negative attribute for a slave, I think it is one of the most powerful.

My next proud moment will come when I cross the finish line of my first 10K on Sunday morning.

Transient.

2008-05-12T00:42:04Z

Recently, a D/s acquaintance of ours informed us that he had separated from his mistress, but that he'd still love to hang out with us sometime. I wasn't surprised by this e-mail, but at the same time I didn't give it much thought. A few days later I spoke with my Owner about it and we both commented that we weren't surprised that our friend's relationship had ended.  It seems all too common in the D/s realm. Relationships never last and that is a big part of the reason that I have such a hard time finding other couples that I want to get to know because it's bound not to last.

I've been with my Owner for almost 8 years and I've known him for ten. That is unheard of in D/s relationships. Typically, members of D/s communities are divorcees or people that have been separated from their spouses. I don't feel like there is the same level of commitment in D/s relationships as there is in vanilla relationships.

I'm tired of the break-ups and watching people bounce between partners. I want to find people that are commited to their relationships. I value the kind of tenacity it takes to make a relationship going through the good times and the bad, but I'm afraid a lot of the D/s population is just here for the "fun of it".

I don't want to come across as condescending, I just get tired of forming friendships and then having them disintegrate into nothingness.

Dresses

2008-03-18T22:51:57Z

My Owner took me to a fetish shop this past weekend. There are a few in the city where he still resides that we have visited on many occasions. One of the stores is distinctly BDSM related and the other is more of a run of the mill porno store where you can pick up anything from an overpriced cheerleader outfit to an overpriced "dirty dice" game.

I was told that we were going to buy a latex/pvc/leather dress for me to wear to the local goth club that evening. I was instantly excited. In the recent past I've been somewhat skiddish about buying such a dress because I wanted to find on that flattered my tall body. This time was different though, and I was excited to go into the store and start searching through racks of clothes.

I tried on various outfits and my Owner and I finally settled on a very sexy dress. It is one that I had picked out that my Owner had originally not been too hot about. It zips up the front to just below my tits. It has fishnet-like netting starting from just below my tits to up around my arms and sleeves. If I don't wear a bra with the dress, my tits are on display through the mesh for all to see.

On this particular night, I wore a bright red push-up bra underneath the dress and black stockings with red bows on the back. I had a red bow in my hair that I thought made me look cute and innocent--a stark contrast to the outfit I had on. I enjoy looking slutty and innocent at the same time because I feel like that really fits my personality.

I think it is fair to say that my Owner and I had an exceptional time at the club. We met up with some friends of ours, drank, and watched quite a few games of pool. It felt good to feel like people's eyes were on me as I walked to the restroom. What can I say, I like being on display. :) I'm looking forward to the next time I get to wear my dress and I'm thankful that my Owner took me to get one.

In the closet

2008-03-18T01:05:40Z

I was running up the stairs from the basement after a long evening of doing laundry and generally cleaning up the house for my Owner. I had gone through mail, run the dishwasher, vacuumed, and was getting ready to sit down to relax and watch the NCAA Selection Show that we have Tivo'd earlier in the evening. My Owner was standing at the top of the stairs by the coat closet and he had taken the vacuum out of the closet. I asked what he was doing and he simply said that he was trying to get something in the back of the closet.

I poured myself a glass of milk and got a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and headed for the couch. My Owner smiled at me from him arm chair. He was busy doing something online as I laid on the couch and ate my dessert. I savored the chocolate and peanut butter and enjoyed relaxing.

Earlier in the day my Owner had instructed that I was going to be naked when he woke up from his nap. When he woke up, he helped undress me and secured a collar around my neck. I had been running up and down stairs, folding laundry and cleaning up naked all evening. I was comfortable and was glad that I could help my Owner.

When I finished my peanut butter cup, my Owner stood up, walked over to the couch and held his arms out and kind of smiled. I smiled back and asked what was up. He suddenly put his finger though the ring at the front of my collar and pulled me onto the floor. He forcefully and quickly led me towards the coat closet as my knees skidded across the carpet.

He opened the door and the floor of the closet was completely empty. I immediately knew that the fantasy I had spoken about the previous night was coming true. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed my Owner take all of the shoes, umbrellas and miscellaneous other items out of the closet. I am usually too perceptive and too inquisitive that I have a habit of ruining surprises or finding out things that I shouldn't.

My Owner gently nudged me into the closet and closed the door.

At first my body reacted in a sensual way. My cunt started clenching and my breach quickened. I'm not quite sure how long I was in the closet, but it seemed like maybe 15 minutes. My body went from sensual to relaxed. I felt so completely content that I'm not sure I can describe it with words. I knew that I was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. I was happy to be pleasing my Owner by being out of sight and I was glad I didn't get anxious and knock on the door from the inside (although I thought about it twice).

I heard my Owner stand up from his chair and walk towards the door. I could see the light streaming in under the door go dim. Suddenly, the bight lights of the living room hit my eyes. My Owner's finger was again in the hook on my collar pulling me out towards his chair. My knees slid across the carpet again.

He positioned me to kneel in front of his chair. He sat down and directed my face to his crotch. As my face was buried I knew that I was going to be used. My Owner proceeded to instruct me to suck and lick using both hands and my mouth. He became very hard and then pulled me off stating that he wanted to use my ass. He forced me to turn around and put my ass in the air. He got behind me and slid in, reaching forward with his arms to knead my tits as he pleasured himself. He slapped my ass and pulled my hips.

Then as suddenly as the whole night had began, it was over.

The Gynocologist

2008-03-06T01:21:53Z

When I first started dating my Owner in college, he directed me to go have a yearly exam at the student health center and to ask for a prescription for birth control. I was nervous about this proposition, but not because of the poking and prodding, but because I had been raised to believe that birth control was “bad.” I didn’t want my parents to find out I was taking the pill because I thought that they would automatically assume that I was having sex when I wasn’t.

Even though my Owner was not penetrating me, he still felt a lot safer knowing I was on the pill. Of course, this gave him more liberty to orgasm on any part of my body and not worry about pregnancy.

I still remember calling my Owner after I had gone to the student health center. I was walking towards the main drag on my college’s campus. The weather was nearing springtime, warm enough to only wear a fleece jacket without gloves, but still cold enough that the traditional “first day of spring on a college campus” had not happened yet. (You know, fraternity guys throwing footballs outside while a radio blasts from a window, and everyone appears to be drinking themselves silly on the lawn—all the while, the temperature is barely topping 60 degrees.) This is one of those experiences that had such a profound impact on me, I will remember every detail about the day.

I told my Owner that my appointment went well and that in two weeks I would be starting to take my daily pill and that it would be 100% effective two months from that date. He was happy, and I immediately felt him relax. At this point in our relationship, we were living apart—even farther apart than we live now. To me, it was kind of silly to be on the pill when I only saw him once ever two months, but I nonetheless complied with his demands to get on the pill.

I have been on it ever since, always diligently making a yearly appointment with my internist to have the test done. Over the years, the tests have been pretty routine. On my first visit in college when I was 18, I was embarrassed to hear the doctor ask her assistant to go find the “virgin speculum.” This was after I had gotten situated and she attempted to use the one size fits all speculum. It didn’t fit. I clenched my fists, tightened my cunt—even with the doctor coaxing me to relax she could not get it in. At the time I wondered how many girls they had to go get the “virgin speculum” for. I considered myself to be normal in that I hadn’t yet had penetration sex, and I wasn’t planning on it until I was married. It seemed odd to me that their “default” speculum was the “I’ve been fucked a billion times” one. It was not that embarrassing for me at the time, but my Owner still likes to recall that story.

The next year when I went in for my check-up and to get another year-long supply of birth control, my cunt was shaved. I remember freaking out about going, complaining to my Owner about what the doctor was going to think when she discovered my cunt was bare. If my recollection serves me, he said “I’m sure she’s seen it all the time, don’t worry about it” in such a nonchalant manner that I wanted to explain to him the intricate details of exactly what happens at these appointments. Over time, I got over being self-conscious about my shaved cunt and began wondering if the doctors ever thought I was being a good “girlfriend” to my “boyfriend” because I shaved for him. I found pleasure out of that.

There was another memorable experience while I was in law school at a different university and went to their student health center. In the days leading up to the appointment, I had the suspicion that a yeast infection was coming on. The doctor I happened to have an appointment with was a man, and that was the first and last time that I went to a man for the exam. I was mortified when he did the test and then discovered I had a yeast infection. I did not feel sexy or even secure with myself. The doctor was very nice and very professional, but I felt like he must have looked down on me because of it. Silly, I know.

Beyond my first few experiences with speculums, all the rest have been pretty run of the mill. Over the years, I have developed somewhat of a “protocol” for my appointments. The morning of the appointment I always make sure I do an extra good job shaving. If possible, I like to come home after work before the appointment to freshen up. If that is not possible, I like to take a few seconds while undressing at the doctor’s office to make sure that things are as clean as possible down there. My nipples always seem to get hard when the doctors examine my breasts. I hate that fact because I am not in any way physically excited, but if someone started rubbing their hands all over breasts, your nipples would become hard as well.

My most recent appointment, at the end of January, was a bit stressful at first, but now looking back on it, I realize that I have become completely comfortable with my submission as it relates to these appointments.

On the day of the appointment I had to go to the courthouse for a status conference. This necessitated wearing a suit, and I had already had my heart set on wearing a very cute and feminine skirt suit. When I wear skirts, I must wear stockings, and this day, I was wearing sheer black thigh high stockings. I debated about wearing a pant suit instead of the skirt suit because I knew that I had my appointment and I wouldn’t want to have to take off my stockings just to have the test done, even though it was completely unnecessary to take them off because the doctor would have full access to my cunt with the stockings on. I felt weird when I thought about lying on the table with my legs up and open and stockings on.

I know that stockings are not that prevalent among younger women, as pantyhose are the norm now. I love stockings, but didn’t want to look like a whore in the doctor’s office.

I got to the office and started to change into the gown the nurse provided and decided that I’d leave my stockings on even if I was worried about it. When the doctor came to give me a once over—check reflexes, heart, blood pressure etc.—I felt compelled to tell her that my stockings were just stockings and that they wouldn’t get in the way. I didn’t want her wondering why I had left my pantyhose on—and God-forbid—ask me to take my pantyhose off. I decided to preempt any questioning. I told her in a somewhat nervous, wavering voice that she needn’t worry about the stockings. It didn’t phase her and I was glad.

The doctor left to go get the nurse in order to do the procedure with her assistance. A whole new wave of fear rushed through me. The nurse had no idea I had stockings on—she was going to be shocked when she looked at my cunt with the bright light shining on it, the dark stockings stopping at the tops of my thighs and my shaved cunt. I guess I expected a gasp or something, but of course there were no gasps or giggles. As my Owner told me oh so long ago “I’m sure they’ve seen everything.”

Looking back on my most recent exam, I am quite shocked that I actually went through with wearing stockings, but I am so glad that I did. Going through with it makes me feel at peace with my submission. Maybe, just maybe it will influence other women out there to start wearing stockings.

slavetara @ 2008-03-04T18:50:00

2008-03-05T00:12:43Z

I am a self-described anti-feminist. To most people in this county that is blasphemy.

I was at lunch with some co-workers recently, two older (late 40's/early50's) women and a young man around my age (late 20's). One of the women was conveying a humorous story about a prior client of hers that was a man, but as she found out that day, was now a woman. In the course of telling this story, my co-worker said that this woman was into crazy stuff like ropes and bondage and was "as crazy as those anti-feminists."   I didn't ask any follow-up questions to understand her point mainly because it was not appropriate as it was just a funny story she was telling us while we were all relaxing at lunch.

Even though I didn't have the opportunity to understand what she meant by "anti-feminist," I immediately got frustrated about my beliefs. Not only did I feel bad about like "crazy stuff" like ropes and bondage, but I am an anti-feminist. Without even knowing it, my co-worker had made me feel uncomfortable.

I would never want my very personal life (my submissive desires and my anti-feminist attitude) to be made aware to my co-workers, but part of me felt like getting up from my seat, standing on my chair and yelling "I hate feminism!" in the middle of the busy Chinese restaurant.

I described my views on feminism a few months ago here, but I feel the need to say my piece in this anonymous forum as opposed to a public restaurant.

If I could give a little speech to everyone thinks that feminism is the best thing since sliced bread, it would go something like this: "Men and women have different talents. I feel as thought women are inherently better at child-rearing and men are inherently better in the workplace. Just because you know some woman that has 10 kids, is completely irresponsible and is strung out on crack does not mean that that woman was not born with the innate ability to care for children. Just because you know a man that is a pussy and lets women step all over him at work does not mean he was not born with the innate ability to lead. I am speaking in generalities, if you don't like it, don't fill my head with all of your pro-feminist ideas. In my opinion, feminists have pushed so hard to become equal in a world where men and women are inherently unequal. The sexes have different talents. Trying to equalize a woman's ability in the home with a man's ability in the office (as one example) is like comparing apples and oranges to me. Women were created as soft, loving, feminine creatures. Men were made to be tough protectors of those women. I'll stop trying to convince you that I'm right if you stop putting "anti-feminists" into the 'crazy' category."

So, now that I've said my piece, have any of my readers had similar encounters or situations? What are your views on feminism? Even if you are a feminist, please comment and tell me why--I am not opposed to intelligent debate!

Tired

2008-02-27T02:51:50Z

I'm getting so tired of the daily grind. My Owner and I had a long weekend and I think we are both getting tired of being apart. For the first time since I moved, I'm feeling that our distance is not benefiting the advancement of my service.

At first, I felt like being away gave me time to blog and really focus on my feelings. I was able to explore areas intellectually that I never took the time to think about when my Owner and I lived together. Now, I just feel tired of all the thinking. I've noticed a decrease in active submission and dominance on both of our parts. I am not naive enough to think that we can both be at 100% all of the time, but I feel like we are at about 10% each. On the one hand I feel unfulfilled by that, but on the other I wonder if it is a needed break given our life circumstances as of late.

I often wonder if I am simply over-thinking the whole thing. My Owner says that I often over-think and over-analyze a lot of things. I just hope he still knows that I am submissive to him even if we aren't engaging in overt acts to display our inherent being.

Intermission

2008-02-21T03:09:10Z

This past week has been busy and I haven't posted at all as a result. I will be in the boondocks until Sunday night, but will be back in full swing next week! Stay tuned faithful readers (all three of you that there are)!!!

Devious Dreams

2008-02-15T01:01:50Z

It is not often that I have a dream that is worth writing about. My dreams tend to be very bizarre, combining numerous aspects of my life into one weird scenario. Last night I had a dream that was very different and actually made sense.

My Owner had befriended a couple online. The friendship was based upon the realization that my Owner and the other man had common interests and beliefs. D/s was not discussed, but after mutual interests had solidified the friendship, dominance came up. My Owner discovered that this couple lived a traditional lifestyle and abided by the traditional roles of men and women. My Owner then told this man that he was impressed by and liked his style of dominance and that it seemed to be very effective.

Let me digress here for a moment. My Owner and I have spoken on many occasions about sending me off to a training camp. He thinks it would really improve my service. I think when love is not involved; it is much easier to obey. I realize that may not make sense to a lot of you. I would even think that if I loved someone it would be easier to obey. In my case, it seems to be the opposite. So, a training camp of sorts may really help me, but who knows if when I came home if I would still find it hard to obey the words of the one I love.

My Owner (without my knowledge) decided that it would be a good idea to have this couple visit us. My Owner set up a plan with the other man on how to train me further when he visited.

One day I walked into our fictional living room and I saw a woman about my age sitting in a chair. I saw my Owner and a man standing by the staircase talking. They briefly looked up at me, but then kept talking like I wasn’t even there. My Owner finally introduced me to the man and the man stared into my eyes. I felt like he saw my soul. I got that giddy, butterflies in the stomach feeling when he looked at me. His mere presence in the room was so commanding that I just stood there without saying a word.

Suddenly, the man snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor next to him. I was entranced. I felt a sense of duty to this stranger. I felt like he knew exactly how to look at me to ensure I did what he wanted. It felt fantastic. Without hesitation, I glided across the room and kneeled at the man’s side.

My Owner was amazed. I knew he was wondering how this man was able to control me so easily when he had such trouble. I again felt the girly, butterfly feeling inside. It felt so good to have someone completely know me (without knowing me at all) and control me with a mere glance. I would have done anything for him.

I remember hearing my Owner and the man talk while I waiting patiently kneeling by this strange man’s side. They were discussing training me further and how this man could walk in a room and command it.

I was not attracted to this man sexually. I was attracted to his dominance, presence, self-assuredness, his ability to read me and understand me, and his ability to manipulate me.

The dream flashed forward to some future point in time.

The stranger and I were fully clothed, the stranger’s slave was still sitting in a chair and my Owner was standing up near by. The stranger sat down on the couch (it was a very Victorian and stately looking couch in my dream) and I knew where my place was. He took of his shoes and socks and motioned with his head and eyes to begin kissing. I kissed and licked his feet, showing him my appreciation for his ability to dominate me so completely.

I woke up from this dream feeling completely satisfied. As I thought about my dream today I started thinking that my relationship with my Owner had lost what this strange man in my dream had given me. I remember early on in our relationship that my Owner could tell me to jump and I would ask how high. I want my Owner to have the commanding presence this man did. I am fully aware that the dynamics of our current relationship are a result of both my behavior and my Owner’s.

I’m not sure if love is the problem, or being so familiar with one another, or if it’s just my problem. I wonder if I acted that way in the dream merely because I wanted to impress a stranger with my obedience? I want to figure out how to get that girly, butterfly feeling in my stomach again. I want my Owner to command me with his eyes. To me, that is so appealing and I want it so desperately.

Maybe this means that we need to befriend other couples or single people and start doing some training together. I’ve never been a fan of my submission and slavery feeling like a game or that I am acting or playing. I do know that to stay good at anything, you have to practice. I don’t think I’ve practiced enough and I don’t think my Owner has forced me to practice enough.

I realize that I am asking a lot of my Owner. I know it is hard for him to be “on” all the time, just like it is hard for me to serve all the time. I believe that these roles are our natural roles and I’d really like to be reminded of that more often through his glances and words.

I don’t think it is a matter of setting more rules or protocols because sometimes the depth of those can be so time consuming that they take on a life of their own. I simply yearn for harshness and simplicity. I picture a dark cell with a chain attached to the wall that leads to a steel collar around my neck. My Owner stands in the corner not saying a word but completely commanding the situation. To me, that is love.

The Man is the Problem

2008-02-13T00:45:49Z

I was listening to the radio on the way to work this morning. I had a chance to listen to it for longer than I usually would because traffic was horrible this morning as a result of a winter storm.

With Valentine's Day approaching, the morning DJ's were chattering on about how to increase your sex drive. The conversation turned to what men and women doing wrong in the bedroom.

Not surprisingly, the one female DJ blamed it all on men. The two other DJ's, both men, disagreed with her, but failed to state any reasons why. It seemed like they really knew it was "their fault" that men and women have difficulty keeping up the excitement in the bedroom.

Woman after woman called in agreeing with the female DJ. The litany of complaints began:

Men don't know what they are doing.

Men like to move too fast.

Men don't listen to us.

Men don't ask us what we like.

Finally, a male caller was put on the air. He stated that he was sick of everyone blaming men. Of course, the female DJ jumped on him and said some snide comments. It was clear the female DJ was in charge of the morning segment on the radio. It was annoying.

She finally suggested that every man should bring a feather into the bedroom. I practically choked on my coffee.

A feather?

I know I'm more sexually liberal than most (although socially conservative) and so the suggestion of a feather was comical to me.

I wonder what would happen if men just started whipping their girlfriends or wives.

It upsets me that so many women are willing to throw men under the bus.

Cheating

2008-02-12T01:29:52Z

Would you cheat on your wife if you knew you wouldn't get caught?

Owner and I were eating dinner at the bar of a restaurant this past weekend. The TV in the bar area was on. A commercial for the horrid tv show "Moment of Truth" came on. I generally had it tuned out, but heard that the "most exciting and embarrassing episode yet" would be airing this week. With questions like "would you cheat on your wife if you knew you wouldn't get caught?" no wonder this show is wildly successful. (read with sarcasm). :)

Interestingly, that question made me wonder how my Owner would respond. So I asked him. He promptly responded "In a husband/wife context or a D/s context?" I said I wanted to know both answers.

I anticipated what he would say, but I thought it was an interesting topic that we hadn't conversed about recently.

My Owner went on to say that if it was just a regular relationship, no, but that in a D/s context, yes. I figured as much.

I said that in a D/s context, I would probably know about it anyway. He kind of nodded and I wondered if that meant I would know about it beforehand or if I wouldn't. I got a little worried. I tried asking questions to reassure myself.

Now generally, I understand he can do whatever he wants. My Owner and I talk about engaging in a polyamorous relationship all the time, and I think the question I posed to him is very much related to that proposition.

My thoughts on this question relate back to a comment I left in Humbled Females regarding humbling a woman and what that means in the context of pushing her beyond her moral limits. I firmly believe that just as in vanilla relationship, people in D/s relationships don't all love everyone they meet. The two people have to mesh and have some connection beyond a mutual desire for dominance or submission.

I would never want to be with a man that would cheat on me.

In a D/s context, that moral belief is challenged. Is that such a thing as "cheating" in the kind of life I live? I think the answer is no, but that answer instills a bit of fear and uncertainty into me.

I would like to think that my Owner would never do anything completely behind my back, but there is nothing that guarantees that. I have to trust him fully and believe that he would never hurt me in that way.

Quite a few years ago, before my Owner and I were officially dating (but of course, being a girl, I thought we were) I stumbled upon my Owner scheduling a meeting with another girl. I was crushed. I felt anxious inside and completely lost. His desire to meet this other girl confused me. I knew nothing of this meeting and I think that is the reason that it touched me so deeply.

As un-slave like as it may be, I don't know if I could emotionally handle my Owner doing anything completely behind my back, but on the other hand, I 99% trust that he would never do that.

Razorblades

2008-02-07T00:23:42Z

This past weekend my Owner and I were in my hometown visiting my family. Going home always has a certain happiness to it for me. I feel like I am in high school again without a care in the world when I sleep in my old room. It's such a comforting feeling that it almost always overrides any anxiety I have by making the trip home (lately, the reasons for going home have been to visit family members in the hospital).

I really enjoyed our time at home, even though my Owner and I can't sleep in the same bed or relax like we usually would if we were at home on a weekend.

During visits home, I have typically relaxed my efforts as a slave. I view it as "free time" where I don't have to serve in a way I don't want to. I still get Owner drinks, give back rubs and attend to him, but the dynamic is different. This "free time" idea impacts my submission in other ways though. Most notably, I feel like I don't have to keep up with shaving my cunt like I usually do.

So, I stood in the shower on Saturday morning debating this thought and realizing that I had taken time at home for granted. I had become too relaxed at home. I promptly opened up the shaving cream and got my razor and made sure I was cleanly shaven. It was satisfying knowing that even if my Owner never checked or even asked, I would know that I had obeyed.

Bugs and Girls

2008-02-05T01:58:56Z

I don't like bugs. I actually hate bugs. Especially when they are indoors.

I fully enjoy camping and I consider myself quite an outdoorsy kind of girl. I still don't like bugs when they are outside, but I have become ok with it because that is where they are supposed to be.

I always feel so childish when I am faced with bugs indoors. It is not a good kind of submissive childishness, but more of an obsessive, whiny childishness. I think my Owner hates it! :)

Throughout my experience renting apartments, I have lived everywhere from a small midwestern college town, to Washington D.C., to my current abode back in a fairly decent sized city in the midwest. My first experience with bugs being where they shouldn't (i.e. in my apartment) was in D.C. I lived in a wonderfully cute and trendy studio apartment in Dupont Circle. The building was undergoing renovations while I was there and the last 1/4 of my lease was filled with sleepless nights with the lights on. I had icky bugs otherwise known as cockroaches. They were small, but they moved fast. Being in a studio, I felt like they were eating breakfast with me and curling up next to me when I slept.

I eventually moved out of that apartment to a more spacious apartment in D.C. without any bugs! Unfortunately, that was the summer the cicadas descended on D.C. and so I had to dodge stepping on them on my walk to the Metro. If you're curious, cicadas have sex doggy style, at least from my perspective.

So, after D.C. I moved back to the midwest into a nice apartment by a lake. Well, the lake attracted spiders...massive spiders. And these spiders liked to hang out with my Owner and I inside. Ick.

My next adventure with bugs, actually involved small rodents. The same apartment by the lake ended up having two mice in it at different times. I screamed like a girl and stood on chairs. I barricaded my Owner and myself into the bedroom at night lest the mouse came to sleep with us.

So we finally moved out of that place into a bigger townhome in the suburbs. This apartment is pretty unobjectionable bug-wise. Every once in awhile there are millipedes and centipedes...but not too often.

I moved to a new city for my new job and rented a smaller, older place. It has been great. At least until last week. I have been blessed to have cockroaches befriend me once again. They are going to be fumigated on Friday, but until then I will be sleeping with my lights on and checking every five seconds to see if I see one.

When I got home tonight from the long weekend I was on the phone withe my Owner as I walked in the door. I squealed a little, breathed heavily, ran in, and quickly flipped on the light. I stood frozen in the middle of my living room, turning in circles, looking for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

I hyperventilated on the phone with my Owner for about ten minutes. We went over some options: stay in a hotel, stay with one of his family members, or try staying at the apartment. After much debating I decided to give it a whirl at the apartment.

So far so good. There have been no signs of any bugs, except for a dead one.

With all of my experiences with bugs, you would think that I would be ok with them, or at least able to deal with them. Not so. Bugs are meant to be outside and I am meant to be inside, away from the bugs. I absolutely hate the thought of falling asleep knowing there are creepy crawlies somewhere.

Call it childish...I just call it girly. As much as I like being feminine and girly, I wish bugs didn't bother me so much. If Owner was here I would feel different. He could protect me, or be on bug watch with me!

Shopping Trip

2008-02-01T00:25:11Z

Owner and I headed out for dinner one evening knowing that we had a few errands to run beforehand. We needed to stop at Bath and Body Works to pick up some more fizzy stuff that Owner likes when he has foot baths and we needed to fill up my car with gas. I could tell as we drove towards the grocery store where we were going to have dinner (we have Whole Foods near us and they have mini restaurants in them now that are actually quite good) that Owner was looking for the location of another store. I didn't know what other errands needed to be done, and so I got a bit inquisitive, but decided not to play 20 questions with him that night.

We pulled up near a craft store and Babies-R-Us. I realized we were parked outside of Babies-R-Us. I was confused for a few seconds. At first I couldn't possibly think of what we would need at Babies-R-Us. Then I thought that we were going there because I had just found out that one of my dear friends is pregnant with her first baby. I figured we'd get the future baby a cute outfit or a gift certificate for my friend.

Well, then it dawned on me--there's no way we were getting a gift for my friend because my Owner wasn't even supposed to know my friend was pregnant yet (it was a secret). So there would be no reason to get a gift to give to her if he wasn't even supposed to know!

A few seconds of horror crossed my face as my Owner got out of the car. I instantly realized that we were there to get breast pumps in order to milk me. I squealed with humiliation. I attempted to lock myself in the car so I wouldn't be forced to go in.

From the time I realized we were pulling in to the time I realized why we were there was only a matter of about 10 seconds, but they were the slowest 10 seconds of my life.

I took a deep breath as my Owner stood by my open door and ordered me to get out of the car. I pleaded for a second in desperation that there was no way we were going to buy breast pumps tonight--for one, the good sets are close to $200.00, and while we have extra money laying around, I'd rather spend $200.00 on new clothes or new shoes...not a device to completely humiliate me!

A billion things were going through my head. I thought everyone inside the store would instantly know why I was there. I didn't look pregnant, and although I have a ring on my finger, I feel like there's some sort of unspoken emotion that pregnant women give off. I darn well knew I wasn't "glowing" with this emotion. The clerks would know that the man with me was going to take me home and hook me up to milk me like an animal.

I was completely mortified walking in, but my Owner offered me his hand and that calmed me down. We had a bit of trouble finding the nursing section at first which just made me more nervous. We finally found what we were looking for and my Owner started comparing two different models. He asked me which one I liked. I said I didn't know. I forced myself to let go of my nerves because I'm sure that made me look even more suspicious. I started to become OK with the fact that this was what was happening.

After about five minutes of comparing, my Owner finally told me we weren't going to get the breast pumps, but that when we got home I was going to buy them off of e-bay for a much better price.

I was so happy that I didn't have to go through the humiliation of walking up to the checkout line holding breast pumps knowing that everyone could tell I wasn't pregnant. I was proud of myself for being so obedient and not throwing a fit and actually getting out of the car without much coercion.

Owner and I proceeded to go have a delicious dinner. I felt close to him even though 30 minutes earlier he had managed to completely humiliate me.

On the road again...

2008-01-29T02:08:41Z

I was happily driving down the highway on the way to see my Owner for the weekend. The weekly trek has gotten easier since we chose to have me move to the new city for my job. I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend.

I got in to find my Owner taking a nap and not feeling well. On top of feeling like he had a cold, he had somehow gotten a pinch nerve in the middle of his back. I dutifully gave him a nice long back rub and warmed up a heating pad for him. We ended up taking a late night trip to the grocery store to look for dinner. We came home and I prepared our dinner, we ate, and promptly fell asleep for the night.

We both had obligations Saturday morning and early afternoon that required us to get up at a decent hour. We parted ways. Speaking for myself, I really enjoyed my activity. I felt like I reconnected with old friends. It centered me.

Owner and I arrived back at home around the same time Saturday afternoon and we spent the rest of the day lounging around.

My Owner had picked out a restaurant for us to enjoy, one of our favorite seafood restaurants. We enjoy going and sitting at the bar, drinking wine and sharing our meals. Surprisingly, we both got a non-seafood dish, but both entrees were delicious. It was a nice, romantic dinner, and I was looking forward to what we would do after it was over.

We decided to head to a wine bar to split a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, the wine bar we went to had closed that location. We decided to head home and share a bottle of Belgian beer that was chilling in the fridge. I was lucky enough to get a bit of a pep talk on the car ride home. Granted, I had told my Owner I felt like I needed one, but it was nice for him to indulge me and tell me how well he thought I had been doing lately and to not give up. He was proud of my progress, and in turn, that made me extremely happy.

We got home and opened the bottle of beer. I was in charge of lighting candles, and he was in charge of getting the beer ready and getting glasses. I loved it that he wanted to be romantic. It’s not very often we have these intimate, romantic times, and I cherish them. We drank, talked, and kissed. I felt little. It felt good.

We headed up to bed and eventually turned the lights out to go to sleep. For some reason, I wasn’t tired. I felt content to cuddle, but my mind was going a mile a minute.

“Are you still awake, Sir?”

“Huhhh?”

“Are you tired Sir?”

I strained hard to hear a “yeah” come out of his mouth.

I figured I’d just close my eyes and hope to go to sleep. Out of nowhere, I felt my Owner’s hand on my tit, gently squeezing my nipple. I wondered if he was really trying to use me and get me excited, or if he was just playing around. I thought he was stone cold asleep. He definitely had it in him to want to use his property.

He massaged my tits and squeezed them, brining up the fantasy I had written about on my blog a few weeks ago. By the end of the night, I was making guttural animal sounds on all fours. He used me hard and he used me just the way I like it—not that it matters how I like it—but it was good.

We drifted off to sleep and woke up the next morning after a long, restful night.

It felt good to connect so deeply to my Owner. It wasn’t just a sexual connection, either. It was a deep intellectual connection. I felt like we were perfectly in our proper roles in life and it felt natural. I can only think of a handful of other times that I’ve felt closer to him—and only one of those centered about our natural roles.

Trouble

2008-01-25T03:38:24Z

I'm going to get in trouble for this. I've been meaning to tell my Owner about it. I've been too embarrassed.

Tuesday night I asked if I could masturbate. I was granted permission. Since I am living away from my Owner during the week now, we talk online a lot. I masturbated Tuesday night, but didn't say anything about it, and got down right quiet that night. My Owner was talking to me on my cell phone the next day.

"You were quiet last night"

"really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I was really tired. I didn't mean to be quiet."

"I thought it was weird, and I didn't want to say anything to interrupt you if you were masturbating."

"Oh, no, I wasn't. I was just quiet because I was tired."

I lied.

I really did masturbate Tuesday night.

The whole thing about telling my Owner I masturbated kind of bugs me. I know I'll be subject to 20 questions regarding the experience, and sometimes I'm just not up for that. I did ask permission, and so I feel like I fulfilled my duty even though I lied about it the next day. Part of the problem was that when we had the above conversation, I was at work. Not the ideal place to have a conversation like that, so I avoided it entirely.

To top it all off, I masturbated last night. Without permission. It probably took place over a period of 30 to 45 minutes (girls are slower). I really enjoyed myself and had no intention of telling my Owner.

Part of me feels like it is silly to ask for permission to masturbate. It seems like such a personal thing to me, that I just feel awkward and shy when I have to divulge that information. And I don't mean vulgar and shy in a good humiliation kind of thing. It's more of a modesty thing...or maybe it's just me not liking to talk about my personal sexuality with my Owner. I feel so much pressure to do things a certain way or convey what I did in a certain way that the pressure seems too great sometimes.

So, I'm sorry Owner, I masturbated without permission and I lied to you, but I hope you can understand why after reading this entry.

The flip side

2008-01-22T23:59:59Z

I was standing in the shower this morning and I realized something about my behavior, that if I was in my Owner's position, would nearly crush me.

On several previous occasions I know that I have given my Owner the stupid excuse of "I'm too busy." Whether I'm too busy to rub his feet, cook him dinner or serve in any other manner, what I'm really saying is "I'm too busy to submit to you." I thought about how I would feel if he told me he was too busy to dominate me.

I paused.

I let the hot water massage my skin.

I stared towards the tile wall in front of me. I waited for my brain to catch up with my thoughts.

I'm sure I had a perplexed look on my face when I realized what my words really meant.

Suffice it to say, I would be devastated if my Owner ever told me he was "too busy" to dominate me. In fact, those words don't even make sense if our relationship is what I claim it to be: i am naturally submissive because I am female--he is naturally dominant because he is male. If that is, in essence, who we are, then we can never disregard our respective natures: submissive and dominant.

I discovered that the devastation I would suffer hearing my Owner tell me he was too busy would pale in comparison to the idea that I was disregarding my nature by telling my Owner I am too busy to be who I already am.

I had created an impossibility by my words without even knowing it. I want to apologize for all the times I've used my busyness as a silly excuse for not being me.

Cows

2008-01-18T03:22:24Z

I slowly shift my weight from my knees to my hands as I feel the hay poking into my shins. My heart is beating steadily and I am acutely aware of my surroundings. I feel a metal ring around my neck with a leather tie attached. My eyes follow the leather tie to a hook on the side of the wooden wall. Sunshine is steaming in behind me through slats in the wooden walls that surround me. I smell nothing but fresh crisp, but not cold, air.

My cunt feels very cleanly shaven and my ass appears to be tingling, but I cannot tell why. I slowly realize my breasts feel very heavy as I continue to shift my weight between my hands and my knees. I notice a trough like structure immediately in front of me with what appears to be cheerios in the bottom. I crack a faint smile, feeling completely content.

My attention focuses back to my breasts. I tilt my head down, like I am looking between my legs. I had been so preoccupied with my surroundings to notice small pumps on either tit. They were squeezing milk out of me which traveled down a fairly short length of tube into a metal bucket. I suddenly realized my nipples were aching. This immediately caused my cunt to spasm and send warm feelings from my heart to the tips of my toes. I shivered.

I hear a man whistling in the distance. His whistling gets louder and louder until it stops suddenly. I hear a big creaky barn door open and see sunlight flood into the far left hand side of my new home. A wave of embarrassment floods over me as I comprehend that I am being used for my udder milk. My cunt spasms again as I am immediately aroused by this thought. My hips start to sway back and forth as I arch my back. I relish in the position I have been so deliberately placed. I am like a cow, being housed in a stall, in a barn...but I am human and a female being made to act like a lowly animal.

I hope that the man that is approaching appreciates seeing me in such a humiliating position. He slowly comes into the light and gently smiles at me as I look up. It is not a friendly nor a hostile smile, but one in which he takes complete control over me.

He is casually holding a decently sized dildo in his left hand. We exchange some words, but it is mostly him humiliating me with his words. "Milk whore...sow...bitch...lowly animal...female..." The words hit me like slow motion and I relish each of them. He speaks to me directly: "Do you like feeling like a little tit slave? Getting your female milk forced out of you for my pleasure? Engorging your tits to make them full and tender..." I practically orgasm at his humiliating words. I am craving his humiliation and now his touch.

He sets the dildo on the trough in front of me. He sits on a small, rickety barn chair right outside of my stall. The pumps continue to pull and excite my nipples and tits. I can't stand it anymore. I reach my head towards the dildo, wanting nothing more than to suck on it. My wetness begins to drip down my thighs. I suck the dildo so forcefully I think I am going to gag myself. I lift my right hand and reach it down to my cunt, precariously balancing on one hand and two knees My tits are being pulled down by the pumps and get in the way a bit, they pull on my nipples and cause pain. I briefly stare at my tits and how pathetic but stimulating there are to me in this state.

My hips move, my fingers rub my clit, my mouth surrounds the dildo. I repeat the man's words in my head..."stupid cunt, you're so worthless you're hardly even good for milk...your udders are so big and tender hanging there...cunthole."

My brain feels like it explodes. My cunt feels like it explodes inwards, up to my stomach, my throat. My body goes limp and I breath deeply. I slowly lay over on to my side, my tits still pumping away...and I drift off to sleep covered in my own smell.

And THAT is what I thought about when I masturbated last night...it was a good, good night. :)

#2

2008-01-16T22:37:56Z

The second night of the week, and I was to masturbate again. I have to wonder what my Owner's reasoning was behind this task. I can only think that he did it to help increase my sexual appetite by forcing me to be more sexual on a regular basis.

The second night was a lot harder than the first. I really didn't know what to do or where to start. It was quite uneventful. It took much longer than I hoped, and I felt like I was grasping at straws trying to think of something that would help me complete my task. Nothing I thought about was helping. I felt frustrated. I felt like I just wanted my Owner there so he could watch, help, and give me encouragement. Instead, I ended up sitting on the couch staring at a picture of a girl in bondage. I was glad when it was over.

*****

The third night of the week I asked for a reprieve from my Owner. I was not feeling well and could not stomach the thought of having to orgasm. He granted me permission to forego masturbating that night. That was the smallest of my worries.

I ended up acting in a very similar manner as I acted the night of the foot rub. I was tired, I was cold, and I just didn't feel like obeying. I pushed him to the limit. I hurt him by my actions and words and I will always regret that feeling. The end of the night came, and he was able to punish me and we got back on the right track again. I look forward to him coming home from work tonight (I'm at home on business) and making him happy with my service.

Sometimes, I wonder if he notices the small things. I noticed he was out of q-tips, deodorant and low on toothpaste, so I picked them up at the store for him without him asking. I rubbed his back this morning to help him wake up. I used to do this almost every morning without fail when we lived together--so I know it means even more to him when I do it the few nights we are together.

I love him dearly, and I want to serve him to the best of my ability.

Masturbation Task

2008-01-14T02:14:58Z

My Owner gave me a task last week: I was given permission to masturbate whenever I wanted as long as I told him about it when I was done. I was so happy and excited. Usually, I have to ask for permission, and I feel like that step takes the excitement and unpredictability of masturbating out of the picture. I was looking forward to my week of "freedom."

Unfortunately, I was so busy and stressed last week, that I didn't even think about touching myself.

So, this week my Owner has a different task for me: I MUST masturbate every evening except Friday, and I can't do it the same way twice. After I am done, I must post to my journal what I did and how I did it.

So...

Tonight, I visited a website that has short clips of movies under different categories. One video instantly caught my attention. It was a still picture of four women and one man sitting on a couch touching and kissing each other. I pressed play.

I sat at my chair, watched the man use each woman, and began to touch my clit. Soon after, I pulled my shirt up and played with my breasts and nipples. I watched the man stand up and the four women kneel around him, hungry for his cock. The women seemed so wanton and slutty, like all they did was live to touch his cock. It was that thought of the place of those women that pushed me over the edge and caused me to have a very intense and warming orgasm.

Thank you, Owner!

The Last Word.

2008-01-11T01:14:25Z

I like having it. I don’t care whether I’m talking to my mother, a judge, my Owner, or the clerk at the grocery store. I like to win. I like to be right. When I’m not right, and I know it, it eats the heck out of me, and I keep talking until I get the last word.

I ran into this problem the other night. My Owner and I had gone out for some late night drinks and to watch a basketball game. The following exchange occurred as we were sitting at the bar:

“I want you to rub my feet tonight, they are so sore.”

“Ok.”

That was the extent of our conversation. We eventually came home and I was very tired as I had stayed up later than I usually do on a work night to be able to watch the entire basketball game. I started undressing for bed and my Owner got up and got himself ready. It was freezing cold in my apartment and I wanted to get under the covers as fast as I could.

Subconsciously I was thinking that he must have forgotten about the foot rub because he was preparing the house and himself to go to bed. I was relieved. I wanted to simply get underneath the covers and fall into a deep, alcohol-induced slumber.

“Don’t forget you have to give me a foot rub.”

“Nooooo.” [Simultaneously jumping into bed under the covers]

“Come here, now.” [Pointing to the floor where I was standing just seconds before]

“No. I don’t want to, I’m so cold. Can’t you just come here.”

“No. Get over here now. I’m going to count to 3 and you better be standing right here.”

“One…one and a half…two…two and a half…two and three quarters…”

“No, please Sir, can’t we just talk about this for a minute?”

“Two and 5/8ths…two and 99/100ths…”

[I proceeded to laugh with child-like excitement hearing “two and 99/100ths. I’m sure this reaction did not endear myself to my Owner.]

I reluctantly got up and stood by him for fear of really upsetting him with my childish behavior. I finally sat at the edge of the bed and began rubbing his feet. We exchanged a few more sentences and he said “Ok, but you…” I responded by saying “why can’t it just be ‘ok’?” I need to feel like he hears my words and just accepts them instead of providing explanations for his thoughts. Or, maybe I just need to feel like I get the last word.

Sunday Night (continued)

2008-01-06T15:16:54Z

I walked down the stairs from our bedroom to the living room while my brain had full control over what my cunt was doing. I had kept a long sleeve t-shirt on because I was so cold. I didn’t know whether this would irritate my Owner or generate a chuckle from him. I’m not sure if it did either of those things, but it was met with a stern instruction to take it off.

For whatever reason, I suddenly noticed a dildo sitting in the corner of our living room. I instantly knew that I had made the “right decision” in letting my brain keep control over my cunt. I would most likely be left to mediate, kneeling in front of the dildo, for a long period of time. I was quite proud that I had made the choice to not let my cunt get beyond the point of no return. I would have been uncomfortable and distracted if the only thing I was thinking about was how to persuade my Owner to let me orgasm before he wanted me to.

I knelt down in the corner with my head to the floor. Owner had put a space heater right by me to keep me warm and gently inserted earphones in to my ears that were hooked up to an ipod. At that point, his gentleness of putting the earphones in meant so much to me. I knew I couldn’t get bored or distracted this way. The only question now was what type of music he had planned on playing for me. I was hoping for some Incubus, Linkin Park, or some other variation of music in that genre. I attach that type of music to my submission and I feel like it makes me travel through my emotions easily. At times, it can also have a stimulating effect. I earnestly waited to hear the first note. My Owner had chosen classical music.

In retrospect, I am quite happy about this choice because of the fact that “harder” music tends to arouse me. Listening to classical kept me calm and focused on meditating. I didn’t have to worry about the feelings that were being generated from my cunt. If anything, it was more of a slow, gradual arousal, but nothing I couldn’t handle and control until the time presented itself.

My meditation began with me trying to make a mental list of topics I wanted to think about and thought I should focus on: (1) my service in general; (2) how to increase my desire to please my Owner; and (3) the comfort that serving men affords me.

After I had clearly thought about these three things, the rest of my meditation seemed more like a bee buzzing about in a small room, never staying in one place too long. Even with the classical music and the heater, it was hard to concentrate on one line of thinking. I finally settled in to the thoughts of comfort that serving gives me. I think this was the emotion that won out over the other two, because I would be preparing to leave early the next morning to travel back to the city where I work. I was desperately trying to grasp for something that grounded me and made me feel safe. I began daydreaming/meditating on how I could make my Owner happy and feel his closeness if I went through my days doing every task necessary to the best of my ability. Knowing that I could make him happy by my mere existence provided me (and still provides me) with structure.
My feet began to tingle. They were falling asleep. It was then that I wondered how long I had been kneeling. I thought about looking at the ipod to see if I could count up how many songs I had kneeled through, but decided against it, not wanting to displease my Owner with uncalled for movement. For a few minutes I tried to drown out the music and listen for my Owner’s presence. Last I knew he was sitting in his recliner with the computer. I had no idea if he was still there. I could have sworn I heard him upstairs and I briefly panicked. I was afraid he had forgotten how long I had been kneeling. I was also afraid of what could be waiting for me upstairs.

A few more minutes went by and I was finally cognizant of the fact that he had not moved from his chair and probably hadn’t thought twice about me.

I began to rub my feet to try and get the pins and needles to go away. I may have softly moaned. He came over to me and began rubbing my feet with me. I was still kneeling with my head to the floor. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone. I thought for sure he would have me stop, knowing that my feet were losing feeling. I was having trouble concentrating on the things I had wanted to because of my discomfort.

I began to get frustrated and a little big angry. I didn’t want to be kneeling. “He should know this isn’t productive for me anymore,” I thought. Then, a miracle happened. Instead of continuing to build frustration, I channeled the frustration into service. “Maybe he knew I was in pain and he wants me to be in pain for him. He wants me to go through this. Maybe he really is intimately aware of my emotional state and this part was all planned out.”

In retrospect, I can see that my frustration with service usually stems from the feeling that I don’t think he knows what he is doing—or that he is in tune with my emotions. A lot of the time it feels like he just flies by the seat of his pants, not taking into account what would be the best for me. When I get the feeling that he is out of touch, it upsets me. It makes me want to rebel and take control. It makes me want to take care of myself, because he isn’t. It makes my service feel useless and completely devoid of meaning.

***

He came over a few minutes later and lifted me up so I was kneeling up. He gently cupped my tits and squeezed, asking me how I was doing. He took the earphones out of my ears, and had me crawl over to his chair.

At the time, I knew that this is when my brain should tell my cunt to get ready. I’m not sure if that signal ever got there, but I’m pretty sure my Owner couldn’t tell when he put his fingers between my legs and then put them in front of my mouth to lick clean. He had me stroke him with both hands and he ordered me to put my mouth around his other parts. My heart skipped a beat. I was instantly nervous and unsure of myself. I knew I wanted to do this for him and so I put all the focus and energy I had left into completing this task to his liking.

Not more than a minute later, I could feel his pleasure like it was blood running through his veins. I had done my job and I felt so exhausted.

I am so grateful that I got to meditate. All I want in the world is to become a better female for his pleasure.

Sunday Night

2008-01-04T02:25:32Z

I finally got my chance to start meditating again, and all I could think about is what my Owner would want me to be thinking about. It all started last Sunday evening. I asked my Owner what we were going to be doing that evening and I gave him a look of mischievousness.

Unfortunately, nothing happened right away and I settled into the couch and watched college football. Soon after, I remembered that I had some reading to finish up for work in preparation for a meeting early Monday morning. I got that out and began reading. I was soon distracted by the fact that The Biggest Loser: Couples would be airing in a mere 3 minutes, and I didn’t want to miss it. I asked if I could watch it and my Owner flatly said no, that I needed to read, but that he would Tivo it for me. I relished the feeling I got by his refusal. I felt so controlled, so monitored.

About 30 minutes later I had finished reading, got up and wrapped a big blanket around myself to settle in to watch the program that was in the process of being taped. Before I could even sit down, my Owner instructed me that there were some items laid out on the bed upstairs, and I was to go up and change and come back down.

“Will I be cold though? I don’t want to be cold.” My Owner firmly responded, “Just go upstairs and change now.”

First of all, I was completely shocked that my Owner had actually had the forethought to prepare an outfit for me in advance. I was excited by this idea. It confirmed to me that he did care and had been thinking about dominating me more consistently.

I went upstairs to find fishnet stockings, a black garter belt and my collar. I thought to myself “wow, I *am* going to be cold. I proceeded to change, all the while my cunt was fighting with my brain about whether it should or could get wet. My brain kept saying I was cold and needed protection while my cunt kept thinking about what could possibly be waiting for me downstairs…

My brain quickly chimed in that I could be left for an hour or more on display and nothing at all may happen. If that happened, my wetness would drip for an hour and I would feel completely sexually unsatisfied (although mentally stimulated and satisfied). My brain began to convince my cunt that it was better just to wait and see what was in store for me before I allowed my cunt to have its way with me.

To be continued…