The happy prisoner

"You belong to me. There is no getting away. You cannot leave. You are mine for life unless I choose to let you go."

I love to hear those words. Each time he says them I stare at him, spellbound by the implications they hold. I have believed it fully since the very first time he told me I could be his - and that meant no freedom to escape. I said "Yes" and it was a release, with all the anxieties the idea held gone at that second, and me sinking into a place of peace. It was so intense, I think I cried. I've long been too afraid to believe he would want me for long, but over time, when he reminds me I am his, I've started to think that it could be a very long time.

It is truly bliss to feel so captive. Some might have trouble understanding it, but it makes me feel so safe to know that I may not choose to leave. I can't even imagine wanting to, but I feel joy to know that if I ever asked, he can say "no." That if I tried to escape, he may well drag me back. And I am absolutely sure, that if that happened, no matter why I wanted to go, I would accept that it was my place, because I am his until he decides I am free.

There are lots of things that remind me. I like to remind myself, in my mind, and it makes me smile. Sometimes when I masturbate I say it out loud: "I am yours.." I am reminded of it every time I kneel in front of him and rest my head on his knee, with his hand absently stroking my hair. I remember it each time I sleep in his bed, when he rests his arm across me, the weight of it seeming to say: Mine. And there are so many other ways, but the best is always when he says it to me directly, looking straight into my eyes.

Thicker than blood

I met Sista online a long time ago now, when Master was still new in my life. I was instantly impressed by her wit, intelligence and sheer cheekiness. Not long after, I was lucky enough to meet her in person, along with her Max, when they travelled to my side of the country together. I was impressed again - she had a stunning presence, with wide round eyes that sparkled with so much life I wanted to sit with her for hours and share her dreams and fears. She was not a traditional 'looker', but at first sight I found her genuinely beautiful. My admiration for her only grew when I had the pleasure of playing with the two of them, watching her let go of her apparent strength and become a "little girl", her stoic acceptance of pain that I longed to live up to, and her intense involvement in the moment that took her from joy to tears.

After the visit, our friendship quickly deepened as we talked more with each other. We connected as two subs with enormous respect for one another, and each saw qualities in the other that we wanted to learn to develop in ourselves. We shared her evolution into 'sluthood' and my journey of surrender. We supported each other through our own painful love stories, confided our fears, and problem-solved each others dilemmas. It was Master who first referred to her as my "sister", but I felt the need to modify it to Sista - because she knows me better than my biological siblings ever will.

I was touched and delighted when Master took an interest in getting to know her and offer her guidance of his own. He chooses his friends carefully, and it meant the world to me that someone I cared so much about was subject to his time and effort. I rarely knew what they were talking about, but from each of them I got a sense that it was meaningful, sometimes challenging, sometimes warm and respectful. I felt the contentment one can only get when two people of great signifiance in your life meet and like one another.

Now here is a little truth that will most likely surprise both of them. I didn't exactly know that Master and Sista were planning a secret visit, but I had an inkling. The idea occurred to me somewhere along the way, I don't know how or why, but it was there in my mind and I imagined how amazing it would be if it were true. I love surprises, but I'm an intuitive girl, and when it comes to the really big gestures, stuff that takes planning, at the most I'm only ever about 60% surprised. I don't know why. I try not to know whats going on. But it just happens.

Anyway, it was still a big jolt when Master told me, not only were they planning a surprise visit, but that Sista had cancelled. Firstly, amazement that they really were doing that for me. I felt overjoyed, and so cared about! What a blessing to have two people that mean so much to me come together to do something that would make me so happy! And then the disappointment. I imagined how overwhelming it would have been, to arrive at Master's house and see the beautiful face of my Sista looking back at me, smiling - and now it wouldn't happen. She's not coming. I've thought so much so often about how wonderful it would be to give her a real hug and laugh with her - and now I've lost an opportunity.

And then there was Master's response to it. After a series of recent disappointments from people, he was in no mood to tolerate Sista's turnaround. They are still not talking.

I feel a loss. Loss of the chance to see my friend, loss of the fun we would no doubt have had, loss of such a beautiful gesture from people I love, and loss of the happiness I felt when the two of them were getting along on their own terms. I miss her all the more knowing she would have been here. And without disrespect for him, I don't feel Master's anger. I know little about Sista's reasons for not coming and I don't really want to know. Evidently they were reason enough for her, and I'd rather just accept that than dwell on that part of it.

The beauty of having a sub Sista is invaluable. Nowhere else can I express my worries freely without criticism for loving and wanting to please my Master. No other girl friend can show the support that she can through the simple understanding that we will never, ever disrespect one another by being critical of the other's Owner. No one else can act as a neutral sounding board for the issues we face when its just too confusing to go to Master straight away. And there is nothing more comforting in this world where our relationships are so deviant, and hard to find in genuine form, as knowing we are not alone.

They say the road to a friend's house is never long. I still hope I see you someday soon, gorgeous x.

nadi, forever

Sir, today I mentioned that I still think a lot about you marking me, and I would like to take the opportunity to share my thoughts, if that is ok....

I remember very clearly on the day we first met in person, you saying that if you ever collared me, you would brand me. I took that very seriously, Sir. You know how devoted to you I have become since that day, and it probably wouldn't surprise you to know that I want to be collared by you very very much. I fantasise about it, but I don't mention it because its something I feel I should not ask for. Partly that's because of what your comment about branding meant to me: that if I am ever collared to you, that is how seriously I should be prepared to take it.

In the last twelve months I have been internally transformed. I understand things about myself, and about life, that I never thought I could, and I've found a new part of myself via a relationship I thought was beyond me. Everything I am for the rest of my life will be altered by the experience of being owned. No matter what happens, some part of me, hidden or right out in the open, will forever be 'nadi'.

I felt very unsure about the idea of having something permanent on my body representing ownership of me. I was worried about what would happen if later, I was no longer yours, and I regretted being marked. You know I am very dependent and attached to you - what if I lost you and a mark of your ownership came to be a painful, hurtful thing for me, associated with what I had lost? I was also worried about possible future owners, and their dislike of it, and possibly feeling pressured to be marked again one day to counter this. I keep thinking, I am only 27 - I will have many years of play yet, how many of them will I actually be yours for? You know how my mind works - as much as I love you, I can't trust that, and my assumption is always that it can't last.

I am very lucky to be owned by my Master. I sincerely believe I will never find anyone else who could understand and accept me like he does, who could see straight into the dark cellar of my heart like he can, who could take me there, even farther still, and show me the way back... teaching me to be me in my rawest form, all the while holding me securely like he does...

A few months ago I had another thought, though... What if I regret NOT doing it? You have taken me further than I ever thought I could go, Sir, taught me so much, and you are very special to me. I may be inexperienced, but I'm observant enough to know that a Master like you is extremely rare. In all likelihood, any future "owners" I may have will be measured against you inside my mind. There is a good chance that I won't find one who comes close for a long, long time - IF I find one at all.

I want to offer him everything. If there will ever be anyone in my life who deserves so much, it is unquestionably him. He will always be the one who saw through me and showed me my potential. He will always be the one who taught me that, whatever I am, I am ok. He will always be the one who knew nadi, and made her real.

I promised myself I would wait until I had known you for one year, and see what I thought of it then. So I could be sure. And a year isn't even that long - if I was talking to another sub and they said this to me, I would think she was NUTS! But I've found that in those few months, I've only wanted it more. Its almost a year now and I'm finding myself longing and fantasising for you to mark me - with a collar or without.

I think that perhaps I need to earn it. I know it is your choice, not mine. And so I should not ask. I am letting you know my thoughts and feelings currently, and thats all. I know you will do what is best for me, Sir.

your nadi xx

I am honoured that he has allowed me to give myself to him as much as I have. I want to continue to have the chance to please him in every way I can. I want him to be proud of his property. If one day I deserve it, he will fully accept me as his, and I will be marked for life, inside and out. Even if he one day releases me, I will still, in some way, remain his.

On the bottom

Master has always said to me that my place is on the bottom. No matter who is with us in any group, I am always of lesser status than anyone else there. I am the one with no rights, with no limits, with no power of my own.

It sounds like something that should bring me down, doesn't it? Something that reduces my worth, that should make me doubt myself and feel insecure. But the truth is the exact opposite. As long as I am on the bottom I remain his "number one slavegirl". As long as I am below everyone else in a group, there is no need to compete, because I am already less than them. As long as I submit more to him than any other he plays with, I may be jealous of their attention, but I know my position is secure. It is my submission, not dominance or power, that makes me valuable to him. As long as I am allowed to give that as completely as I can, I know I am worth something to him.

My stomach clenched this morning when he asked me how I would go whipping another woman for him. It felt all wrong. I felt confused and frightened. Naturally I would do anything he told me to, even try to dominate if that pleased him. But what would that mean, if he wanted that from me? That I had lost my place. This goes beyond jealousy - if I am no longer on the bottom, I don't know where I belong. My whole position is threatened. What if I'm no longer his "number one"? It was a huge relief when I was honest with him and he said he would let me sub with her instead. But a little anxiety stayed with me the rest of the day.

I am naturally submissive. There is not a cell in my body that wants to dominate another person. Its not that I refuse to try, either. A long time ago, I met a sub guy, and with both of us starved for action, we tried to top each other. It was pathetic. Each of us, in our turn at the dominant role, was only trying to please the other. In the end, he started to warm to it a little, and said he might like to try doing it again. But not me, I felt so basically wrong and completely out of place that I could barely bring myself to touch him. Going back to subbing was a huge relief, like being released from a tight space and finally able to breathe again.

I just can't switch. I am not permitted limits, and may not refuse to do anything Master asks of me, so if he ever decided to train me to do it, I would have no choice. But I sincerely hope that day never, ever comes. I want to stay on the bottom, and feel grateful to him for putting me there.

The reason I wouldn't tell Betty about

Being owned fulfills me, it makes me happy. It makes me feel liberated of myself, and of my life. It makes me feel natural, content, and like I am truly me. But there's one other reason I am made for this, one thats a little disturbing: I would be unsafe without it.

I am made to be used. I invite it, explicitly and through my behaviour. And before I met Master, I got exactly what I was asking for. No control, no boundaries. Anything. Anyone's. Show me something dirty, tell me something seductive, touch me, grab me, hurt me, and I lose my limits, become open, malleable, thirsty... a slave to my own cunt.

But we all need a measure of control. Where would I be now if allowed my freedom? Would I be dead? I am sure I would have at least come close. Belonging to someone protects me. It seems scary that it should be necessary that I am owned to have a degree of control, but I have to be honest about it. I have never had much of a care to look after myself, except for someone else.

When Betty found out I was his slave she was worried for my safety. I knew she would be even more afraid if I told her that I was more at risk without him. Master gives me boundaries, and keeps me safe. And it feels good, to be looked after with limits, rules and discipline, as well as with warmth and affection, like a parent looks after a child.

I'm a dirty girl, but....

A long time ago I remember chatting to Master and moaning to him that my previous "owner" had made me do his ironing. He quickly put me in my place, and let me know with his usual implicitness that those complaints were not acceptable. I'm glad he did - it was insolent of me to bitch about something completely appropriate and by doing so, imply that Master should not ask the same of me. He has every right to demand that I do his laundry, or wash the floor, or do his dishes, or clean the bathroom with both hands tied behind my back if thats what he wants.

When he did start directing me to do household tasks for him, I surprised myself by actually enjoying them. I'm not a domestic person, and struggle for motivation to do housework under normal circumstances, but I found myself jumping at the chance to please him. I remember one night at his house, kneeling in my usual corner and waiting for his attention, when he asked me to sort his socks into pairs. I was delighted to do it, and spent far longer than necessary folding them neatly and placing them into a pile. He was completely indifferent (they were only socks) but I felt enormous satisfaction at having done something for him to the best of my ability.

Sooner than later, I also started doing things he didn't ask of me. After a night at his house, when he leaves and I am there alone, I've made a habit of checking for chores that I can do before I go home. Sometimes he notes it and thanks me, sometimes he doesn't. Either way, I feel a warm pride and pleasure to have done something to serve him, however small.

Today I noticed something new: I didn't have much time, but it felt wrong to leave without taking care of the obvious chores to be done. I just had to wash the dishes and clean the floor. I know there are plenty of neat-freaks out there that feel this way all the time, but I'm certainly not one of them. My own house is a mess and that suits me fine. But I just can't leave my Master's house with something clearly undone. Not because he told me to, or even to earn his praise (though it sure is nice when I get it!) but just because it might please him when he comes home : )

So why the difference in attitude now? I sure as hell wouldn't complain about doing the ironing these days. I'm convinced its simply because I belong to a better Master. Others have ordered me around and I've complied, but Sir can bring out the natural slave in me.

The more the merrier

Master knows how to get what he wants - I am a testament to that. When an opportunity arises, he doesn't let it slip by. So the other day when we were gathering in the hotel room for a small gang bang, he didn't just comment on the hot looking hotel maid in the hallway like the other guys - he went out to talk to her to see if she might like to join our fun. Unfortunately she finished work before he was able to get quite that far, but he still returned with her phone number. And I have no doubt that, if that woman would ever try group sex in her life, she would have then, if Master had spoken to her long enough to bring it up.

He teasingly asked me why I was so impressed, did I not think he could pick up? But the way I see it, most men couldn't under those circumstances. A woman only has to be in any public place to pick up, its effortless. If a man can do it, he is talented. Far from being jealous for a change, I was proud of him for showing the other guys what he could do : )

It was a small group, but I was well used, particularly my ass. I always find it challenging to take more than one cock anally in a session - it hurts a little more with each new penetration. At one point I almost told one guy to stop, but then I remembered what Master said last time I'd used the 'n' word in this situation: he'd held me down and whispered, "what makes you think you have the right to say no to us?"

I don't.

I want to write more about the joys gang bangs, but better to wait til another time, when I have to chance to blog before the afterglow wears off, lol. Its already faded to a memory this time - a warm memory that gets me lusting for the next one : )

I do have one thought enter my mind that I'll share, though - imagining the next group of men to use me might be spontaneous, unexpected... a random selection of strangers, perhaps picked up much as the hotel maid had been, and offered a slut.... mmm...

...I'm off to indulge in some personal playtime now, lol....

Take me away

Few things make me feel as powerless as someone taking control over my breath. And Master really does take control of it. In the past, a handful of people have clamped a hand over my mouth and nose or around my neck for a few seconds of breathlessness while we fucked, and that was a great high. But Master has taught me to go much further than that. I don't really know how long he typically does it for - the senses become warped and seconds stretch themselves out and gel into each other when you are lacking in oxygen. Not long enough for me to pass out... yet. But I'm sure I've come close. Close enough, sometimes, to leave me temporarily immobolised, my arms just flapping loosely if I try to move at all.

My social conscience feels the need to interrupt here and say something about safety. But that would be totally hypocritical. I don't ask Master to play it safe. I expect him to do what he wants with me. He is experienced enough to read my body signs and choose when to stop, and I trust that no matter how far he takes me toward the edge, it is completely intentional and he is fully aware. Yes, I know there are risks. I know there could be permanent damge. I know I could die. And I want him to do it anyway. If anyone finds that offensive, they are reading the wrong blog. Lol.

I used to fear unconsciousness. Each time he placed his hand over my mouth and nose would be the beginning of one scary ride, mentally crossing back and forth from submission to panic, trying desperately to control my impulse to fight him. Not that I could have anyway. His body pins me down so there is nowhere to go, and he is more than capable of holding my head in place. Mmmm, that cosy helplessness.... : )

At some point I stopped being afraid of losing consciousness. Now I just try and keep moving my hips against him for as long as I can, trying to control the relflex to gasp and choke for air, and let myself float away..... the whole world seems to dissolve and nothing exists except Master and I, my awareness cuts down to the sensation of his cock inside me, and his weight above me. Eventually not even I exist, he is the whole world, and if I am facing him, even he is fading as my eyes roll back and my mind stops registering his skin against me. Sometimes I think to myself, will it happen this time? Will I black out? And will I wake up? It's now less a fear than a curiosity.

When I panicked, he used to say to me "Don't worry, baby, you'll just go to sleep for a while... and when you wake up, I'll still be fucking you." Its still a nice thought, and sometimes I fantasise about it alone, wondering if he really would keep going as I gradually came back to the present, and how it would feel to slowly wake up being used, as just a body, the presence of a mind inside it completely optional.

I wonder if its possible to orgasm while unconscious? : )

Warning: the following contains absolutely no material that may offend anyone :(

The most surprising thing just happened. I was a bit distracted while logging in to my blog this morning, typing on auto-pilot, and I entered completely the wrong login information. I didn't even realise until the page loaded and I thought, hang on, thats not Viti Levu... Then I realised who the author was: me! A totally different blog, one that I had completely forgotten existed. Even now, I barely have any recollection of actually writing it.

It is a mere half a dozen posts long, and was written in late 2005-early 2006. And contains nothing particularly exciting, kinky or sex-related. In fact, from the timing, it looks like I may have stopped having the time to write after entering my uncontrollable slut phase (lol). But I'm sure if I told Master this, his response would be "Lets see it." So, here's a link to what I called "Nadblog".

A warm shower

I'm embarassed to say it, but I have a shy bladder. There's no point hiding, it became obvious months ago when I went into Master's bathroom while a guest was at the sink, and I just couldn't go.

It started a few years ago when I realised that, at work, if my boss walked into the toilets after me, I had to wait until she was gone before I could urinate. It wasn't a problem if it was anyone else in the cubicle next to me, only the manager. It was the power difference that made me too tense. I would try closing my eyes, counting backwards from one hundred, even just pressing on my bladder as hard as I could, but no matter how full, not a drop would come out. Eventually I would hear her shoes tapping their way across the tiles, and the instant the door closed behind her: relief.

At the time I thought it was embarassing but kind of amusing. Now its a real dilemma. Master wants me to learn to piss at his command - and if there was a gap of power between me and my ex-boss, there's light years between Master and I. I genuinely want to be able to do it - there are so many ways he can use it to humiliate me if I am able to wet myself for him. Not to mention the principle of it: I have no right to keep anything private from him, body functions included. I want to comply, so why can't I get my body to cooperate?

I got to his house last night really needing to go. I had even considered pulling over on the side of the road on the way there, thats how badly I had to piss. (Which is another interesting question, why can I go in a public place, in the open air, with the risk of being seen, but not in a private room if Master is there?) So I got to his house, stripped as usual, and asked permission to use the toilet. Instead, he took me to the shower, made me squat, and stood there watching. And of course, I couldn't do it.

In the end, it was him who pissed - sprayed it over my body, then made me kneel in it and lick some of it up. One day, I'll be able to drink it straight from his body without gagging. Why? To please him. His toilet slave.

Pants are overrated

I've been working on an essay for uni lately and the topic has got me thinking about feminism. Specifically, about how my point of view on it has changed. I am still all for gender equality as much as I always was, but I guess now my experience is different. I used to feel sorry for those women who would argue that traditional gender roles made them happy. And now - who'd have thought it - I'm even more under a man's firm hand than them, to the point of being a possession. And I love it.

I was watching Betty interacting with her good little boyfriend the other night, and I thought, you can certainly tell who wears the pants in that relationship. No doubt she would be proud of it, too. But who the hell wants that? Not me. Pants are overrated in my book. I can't even imagine what the appeal might be of having power over another person. I'd rather be powerless any day. I don't question why Master likes it, I just feel grateful that he does.

To reiterate: 3 virtues of men

I could never bring myself to choose between men and women - too long with only one, and I will always crave the other. Women attract my attention far more often. But my fantasies, and desires? They are almost exclusively for men. There are 3 reasons why:

1. Cock! I just can't live without it. Fingers and mouths can be nice, but there is nothing as (physically) satisfying for me as being filled and fucked. And a strapon just isn't the same. Only a cock allows the pleasure of satisfying another. And when someone invents a dildo that squirts warm white fluid - well, that would just be silly really.


2. Aggression. I need to be treated unkindly - slapped, grabbed, dragged, bitten. Yes, technically a woman can do those things. But I have never found a woman who can do it like a man can. A woman can cause pain, but they never seem to have the same testosterone-fueled impulsiveness about them. And a man can suddenly fuck you while he does it - for a woman, the spontaneity would be lost.


3. Power. The most important reason for me. If I were just out to fuck around, the first two would be relevant but compromisable. But the main thing I need is to be controlled and owned. And yes, woman can do that, and I'm sure their subs get what they need. But for me, it needs to be a man. I know its chauvinistic, but I can't help it: D/s is about gender for me. I want to be a vulnerable, objectified, degraded, owned slut kneeling with a man standing above me. A man who treats me exactly how women are not "supposed" to want to be treated. I love to play with women, and even be dominated by women, but I could only belong to a man.