29 July 2007

Whore

Watched The Libertine tonight, and as with all period-movies, I end up thinking, if I was alive back then, I’d be queen of the whores. I can never quite decide if I’d be the most notorious, sought-after, expensive whore, or the dirtiest, most shamed, most used whore around. Maybe both. The women would hate me, and I would shock them by inviting them in. No man would see me as anything more than an object.

I often fantasise about it somehow being public knowledge that I am a slut to be used. I imagine having some kind of sign, or notoriety, that means every adult I meet instantly knows they may have me. I imagine the humiliation of seeing that smirk on peoples faces everywhere I go. I imagine having no choice but to dutifully comply if anyone, anywhere, tells me to kneel and open my mouth. In line at the grocery store, with strangers pausing to snigger at me as they walk past. Or the waiter at the café turning the tables on me if I say that my coffee is cold. No need to be discrete if everyone there knows who I am.

The night I’ve spent with Master that most often returns to my fantasies, was a little bit like this. I was dressed in nothing but a collar, while a group of his acquaintances came by to drink and play cards. It was never spoken to me, but it was clear what I was there for. All of them treated me like a slave and a slut. I don’t think anyone played cards, lol. While not everything went perfectly, that night is still vivid in my mind as a very fulfilling experience. I was exactly who I’d always wanted to be.

28 July 2007

Still more thanksgiving/crawling/whatever you call it!

It makes me smile, when I realise what an unusually depraved match Master and I are. I don’t think of it much, he has made it seem so natural that I forget that not everyone is like us. But every now and then I chat to someone, or am allowed to read his conversation with someone, and I am reminded…

We are the ‘abnormal’ ones… and it makes me smile :)

Sometimes I imagine where I would be if I had never met him. I’d be fucking frustrated, that’s for sure. I’d probably be subbing to a Dom whose idea of punishment was a soft flogging and anal sex… and whose training goal was teaching me to suck his cock when he told me to. I’d be bored, and probably behave badly just to get some variety – knowing that he didn’t have the imagination to make me regret it. I think even the best sub is worthless with an inadequate Dom.

So, in my mind, I would probably also doubt my suitability to all this. Having never experienced anything better, I would probably think this was it, and if I couldn’t be fulfilled by it, it just wasn’t the lifestyle for me.

I would also be ashamed. My dark fantasies would go unexpressed and unshared. I would think, if this is as good as it gets, then I must be worse than I thought…

None of this is hard to imagine, because its exactly where I was before I met him. He showed me, in just a couple of hours, that my dreams could become real… That although very rare, a Master existed who could teach me something, and really be worth giving myself to.

22 July 2007

Celebrating the slut

As a 15-year-old virgin, I was so cock-hungry that I hand-made my first dildo. I used a pen as a frame to wrap a long bandage around, layer after layer until it was thick enough, and tight enough so that it would be firm but flexible. I added a layer of glad wrap to keep it from unravelling, then removed the pen and encased the whole thing in a condom, tying off the end. The result was a little scary - I'd never had anything bigger than a couple of my own fingers before, but I already felt that internal longing to be filled.

I still remember my first orgasm, at age 12. I had been masturbating my whole life, and one day the pleasure suddenly changed, and I thought, wow - its never felt like THAT before! I didn't know what it was, only that I wanted it to happen again. Three years later, when I tried my creation, it was like that again: discovering another world of pleasure. I kept that toy for another 3 years, until I was legally old enough to go sex shopping and buy a real one.

The other day, I attended a meeting for work, and one of the men there was someone I knew. The last time I had seen him, I was spread out naked on the floor, with his fingers and tongue teasing me, but denying me, while Master watched, amused, from the next room. Humiliating to sit across from him in a business meeting, the smile on his face growing wider as I tried to avoid his eyes. But realistically, something like this had to happen one day, and probably will again.

I was pondering this in bed this morning, and I thought, how long will it take before I've been used by so many people, that it is no longer a surprise to run into them like this? And I imagined one day, maybe being in a meeting with not one, but two, or even three faces smiling at me in that knowing way... maybe making a sly comment to me in the coffee room... perhaps even noticing each other, and becoming aware that they are not even the only one there who knows nadi... I imagined the shame and excitement of that this morning, as I made myself cum...

How are these stories linked, exactly? Just that sometimes, I think back, and feel amazed at what I slut I am. Its become a natural thing for me, but there are still times that I stand back and marvel at myself, and just think.... wow.... and I feel hot, and excited, and most of all grateful to Sir, for helping me enjoy it to the fullest.

21 July 2007

slavery is in the eye of the beholder

I watched a DVD tonight that, among other things, featured an interview with a male slave. His final response before the scene changed was "Love? No. I don't love my Mistress." And it made me wonder - is he truly a slave? I guess that depends on your perspective. Sista asked me once what I thought was the difference between a submissive and a slave. I found it hard to answer in general terms - I only know what makes the difference for me. For someone else, it might be about rules or freedoms, but for the slave its a state of mind. Only their owner can judge how sufficient that is.

So I guess its not really my question to ask if the man on the video was a real slave. But I do question, if he does not love his Mistress, is he truly owned? It seems to me that he keeps something for himself.

The first time I met my Master he said to me "A slave does not get to choose what they give up. You must give everything, and then wait to see what is given back." At the time, what scared me was the thought of giving up my freedom, my choice, my control... but love was the hardest thing I've had to give him. Everything since then has seemed trivial, not worth holding on to. When I gave him my love, that was when I really started to become his.

Love makes belonging to him a purpose in itself. Of course I know that loving someone doesn't make just anyone a slave... but for me, that was where I crossed that line, and gave him everything I had to give.

15 July 2007

A conversation with vanilla Betty

"Do you and your Master ever have normal sex?"
"Um... what's normal sex?"

She's asked me this a few times now, and it ends up with both of us getting confused - two people trying to communicate when, on this subject, we just don't speak the same language. Perhaps she doesn't understand that no matter what, he is always my Master and I must always serve him. If it didn't apply during sex, that would be the abnormal part.

Today, when Master started slamming his hand against my ass, I cried almost immediately - from the sheer emotional release it allowed, to feel real pain. I wanted to cling to him in gratitude, and I wanted him to keep hitting me until I shattered. Afterwards, I was a shaking, sobbing mess of joy, relief, and euphoria. Had he let me, I could have easily floated into a blissful trance. This is worth living for.

Whatever Betty means by "normal" sex, I'm sure that wasn't it. But if that's the difference, why the hell would I ever want anything to be normal?

And why is it, that I am the one stuck trying to explain whether I do or don't have so-called normal sex? It seems a far more pertinent question to ask why on earth she doesn't have abnormal sex??

Niche

I just love to be close to my Master.

This is a wierd thing for me. Historically, in my vanilla past, I've never really been the cuddly type. Even in love, I could spend about five minutes snuggling up to a partner in bed before wanting to draw back into my own space. I'm just not the affectionate type - with an equal, anyway...

But being owned brings out an entirely different side to me. I get a real sense of joy from lying next to him, with one hand on his chest... or with his arm around me... or kneeling beside him while he watches TV, resting my head on his knee while he strokes my hair.... these moments are beautiful to me.

Perhaps its because I don't get to choose them or control them. With Master, unlike a vanilla boyfriend, every kiss is a privilege, and every embrace something earnt. If he chooses to show affection towards me, I feel grateful.
I think its more than that, though...

When I am physically close to Master, I relax into him and smell him. I have a sense of being much smaller than him, and fragile. I feel simultaneously lost and safe. When I lie in his arms, I surrender to them. A hug between us is not just a show of affection, it is a show of my submission and devotion to him - and in turn, his acceptance of that.

I know that, for vanilla types, cuddling up together can have its own meaning, and be a wonderful thing, but for me it never was. So maybe this means that I was always meant to be this way?