Inside, out

I was chatting to Blknight a while ago and we got to comparing different styles of domination. He is very much the physical guy: the kind of Dom who wants to take control via the subbie's body - pushing the physical limits, manipulating by blunt force. Master, on the other hand, is a psychological controller - he pushes me with words and mental images, to the extremes of experience that sensation alone could not induce.

There is a place for both, and as I said to Blknight, a perfect balance is ideal, but probably we all have our predilection to focus on one over the other. For me, there is nothing like the psychological dominance Master uses to control me. Don’t misunderstand: he is undeniably strong and more capable of using force than most. But so much of his power comes from carefully-chosen words, making it seem effortless, and so all the more intoxicating. Anyone can take control with a pair of cuffs and a cane, but to do it just by speaking inspires awe. And it is that emotional effect that is most important for me…. (perhaps because I fear so little physically…?) Being physically controlled is amazing, but the mental control is what makes it real. When Master chooses what he will say - or what he won't - to show dominance over me; or when he uses words to push my limits until I am shaking and sobbing, wide-eyed and enraptured by what he is saying... that’s how he owns me: from the inside, out.

Like Master said, I am an emo slut. I know it’s not the perfect way for a sub to be, so I try and keep it within tolerable levels. Sometimes, though, I fail. I could write about how that lets him down sometimes, but to dwell on that would be making the same mistake even as I apologise for it. Instead, I want to say how that, too, means he owns me so deeply – because I feel so much. That is how his words capture me – by tapping into the parts of me that are most vulnerable, that hurt most easily: my mind and my heart.

It means I am powerfully dependent on him. All my inevitable ups and downs are deeply tied to him, because it is his influence that devastates me or relieves me. Yes, soaring from grief to bliss partially on someone else’s calculation is an agonising way to live – but also a very gratifying one. To borrow someone else’s words I am an “affect junkie”. An addict for intensity. An emo-slut.

Life’s stress can bring me down so low I don’t just want to die – I want to suffer, too. The tension builds up over days and I become muted, flat, and confused. I feel afraid and disoriented. I try and tell myself to keep functioning, but in retrospect I always know I wasn’t – and that regardless of how I try not to bother Master with my frame of mind, it is foolish to think he can’t tell. He can read me effortlessly……. And then eventually, if he decides I am deserving, he takes my body, and hurts me.

He takes me away from my mind and into only my body using physical extremes. It might be partly the endorphins, and partly the sheer cathartic effect of being made to cry and scream, but mostly I think it is the sense of absolute surrender that releases me. When it hurts, I need nothing but to know I am his, and then when it is over, I re-emerge, myself again. My despair disintegrates. It’s like hitting a ‘reset’ switch…. Or like shock therapy.

Evolutionary wank

Masturbation has been a major pleasure for almost my whole life. I was an early starter, playing every night in bed as a child. Long before I was old enough to orgasm, I'd bring myself to a magical brink of something... and sometimes manage to slip over it into a sudden sense of satisfaction and contentment, sending me peacefully off to sleep...

No wonder, then, that for me, playing with myself is about far more than just getting off. It is a comfort, a release of endorphins, a way of decreasing anxiety and increasing wellbeing. I use it to de-stress and unwind, to cure insomnia, to wake myself up, as a motivator, and as a relaxation technique. If I don't get to play for a while, emotional stress accumulates in my body as sexual tension.

It has been quite some time now since Master took away the freedom to touch myself and made it an occasional privilege... and honestly, I'm surprised at how well I've coped. It has probably been good for me, not just for my training, but also for life - I'm being forced to find alternative, more 'traditional' ways of letting off excess energy.

But sometimes, it is so hard to bear. Like yesterday. Yesterday, I spent hours quivering on the edge of orgasm. When I sat I found myself tilting my pelvis and rocking back and forth against the chair. I compulsively pinched the skin around my pubic area, clenching my thighs, the closest I could come to touching my pussy without feeling I was being disobedient. Peeing becomes an intense experience at times like these, the stimulation of the warm fluid followed by the paper makes me twitch.... almost enough to tempt me to orgasm.... but I don't dare.

Does that even sound believable, that I wouldn't give in?

When I first became my Master's exclusive property, I struggled to convince some of my old "playmates" of my loyalty to him. Many tried endlessly to convince me to sneak a fuck, thinking that if they just said the right things, surely this horny slut would put out once more... he'd never know, right? But he would know. I would never be able to keep it from him, even if I somehow summoned the insolence to try. And thats beside the point anyway, because I would never want to keep my mistakes from him - and thats something vanilla people always have a hard time grasping. I don't want to get away with anything!

For starters, my dignity as a submissive and my pride as his property depend on complete devotion to him. If I compromised this, how could I respect myself? And secondly, I want, as much as he does, to be under his complete control. As much as it can torment, and even frustrate me at times, I belong there. His ownership and his faith in my loyalty mean everything to me. If I betrayed that, it would not just mean his anger, his disappointment, his severe punishment, and my own shame - but most of all, the loss of this blissful sense of belonging to him.

That was my reasoning in the beginning, for not breaking my Master's trust. Over time the reasons changed to one that is much simpler, but has even more meaning: I am my Master's property. I have no right to lend his property to anyone else, only he can. And the same applies to playing with myself - I don't have the right to use his property any more than anyone else does. I must wait until he offers me the privilege.

That principle feels deeply right when it comes to play with others, but when it comes to playing with myself, although I can recognise its truthfulness, the real meaning hasn't sunk in yet. I am sure it will, and in time, my reasoning for not masturbating behind Master's back will also evolve from rationale to philosophy. In my thoughts, not just my actions, I will become even more a slave.

I have changed from fighting my desire to sleep around, to dependence on his permission - even in fantasy. I have grown to need his permission to orgasm, to the point where last time I was able to play, I had to imagine his voice to achieve it strongly. Now I'm on the way - slowly - to needing him even to touch myself. What next? Will he eventually have control even over my arousal? Will he become the very definition of my sexuality so that without him I have nothing - no desire other than what he permits and creates...? If that happened, then even if I was given back my freedom, I would have no choice but to be a slave for life...

Bittersweet

Some things you have to do, that you’d much prefer to hide from. Some things creep up on you and present themselves to your consciousness horribly at some pivotal moment in such a way that you are tied – and you find yourself merely existing through some excruciating event of your own doing, with no other path to take.

Right before her impending visit, I have disowned my sista. Not from hate, or anger, or even because I was compelled to, but out of appalling necessity. Unplanned and unanticipated, but unchangeably all I could do. I feel like I’ve had to amputate my own limb, keeping the preparations outside my own awareness, maintaining denial right up until the moment when the knife split my skin.

For a long time there has been a friction among the four of us – s., myself and our Masters. Naively, I thought I was powerless, caught in the middle. But now it occurs to me that maybe I was the one holding it in place. I apologise – both for letting go, and for taking so long to do it.

Even greater than the shock of my own actions, was Master’s reply when I told him what had happened: "I told you I’d make you pay.”

On the issue of whether I could see her, he had done nothing and said nothing. His silence on the matter had been eerie, deliberate, but complete. I had no sense of being subject to his guidance, just waiting uneasily. I had no suspicion whatsoever that it was I who would finally perform his will.

Did he really plan this? Is his power over me really that great that he can alter my own choices without so much as a word? And without even my own recognition? I feel like a toy that has finally looked up for the first time, and seen puppet strings. I now understand more than ever the question of why my Master so rarely chooses to force his will over mine. Why, when he can quietly change my will?

What also hits me hard is the irony behind his words. For so long now I’ve dwelt on what I might have to give in order to see my sista. I never would have anticipated that it might have been her. And not by force, either – oh no, that would not have been enough. I had to give it up willingly, straight from my own heart.

I still have love for my friend, of course. But in such a short time so much has changed, sacrificed to my Master. Not to please him in order to be rewarded, and not to do his bidding to avoid being hurt. Just to honour and serve him, because that is what I am here to do.

All the self-respect of a......

Lately I've been loving being offered in exchange for work done on my Master's house. I'm being treated like a slutty object, a fucktoy to be used. The other day I had to be there on show for the refridgeration guy, then drive to another house to be used, and return in time for the electrician to fuck each of my holes. Walking through town in a tiny mini skirt and stockings on a hot day, I felt like an obvious whore... and, I hoped, a cheap one.

The other day, Master allowed me to make copies of many of the photos he's taken of me in use. It started me thinking about all the people he has had inside my holes since I've known him. I don't even think I'd be able to count. I want to laugh now, when I think about the promise he made me on that day..... that if I was his, he would make sure I was an extreme slut. I can't believe I doubted him at the time! Now, I honestly think I am far bigger a slut than I could ever have become of my own accord. And I know he will make me even better.

Two things are bringing all this to mind right now. The first is Master's observation, and my own, that somehow I've been less desperate than usual to have my holes fucked lately. I sincerely don't know what exactly it is, but I've been strangely "take it or leave it" a lot of the time. Its a little bewildering. I think a part of it is in my devotion to him - thankfully, the one lust that has not reduced in the slightest is my desire for Master and the drive to please him. Ironically, though, its led to him becoming somewhat disappointed with my sluttiness and desire for others.

Master's solution has not come as a surprise to me. Back when he took control of my sex life, bit by bit, I began to fear that one day he would take control of my masturbation, too. And now, the loss of that right not only reminds me that I am completely possessed, but it also serves another purpose: he is forcing me to remain hornier and hornier, so that I become utterly desperate to be fucked. Its a cruel kindness. And so far its working exactly as he planned.

The other statement bringing me to contemplate my slut's state of mind, is a suggestion, in an online forum, that to be used this way, I must have questionable self-respect. I found the idea intriguing, because it made me realise something vital: its amazing how much more pride I take in myself now, than I used to! And all it took was to be enslaved, whored, abused, and placed on the bottom of the heap for anyone to use! Its amazing what a sense of having found your place can do for one's self esteem :)

I believe there was once a time when my self-respect really was low. Its hard to remember now. But the way Master has trained me, my most degrading behaviours have become my greatest sources of self-worth. And I guess that makes it even more important that I re-ignite my horny state quickly - so I can be sure to maintain all the self-respect of a deserving, deviant, dirty slut!

"Thus with a kiss, I die..."

I've heard it said that a Dominant should never kiss a submissive. A kiss, some say, is a sign of affection that makes people into equals. I intensely disagree. A kiss can be so many things - all it takes is a little creativity. There are kisses that communicate love, lust, aggression, fear, awe, sadness, strength, and power. It isn't just an affectionate gesture, like anything else, depending on how it is done, it can be a most seductive tool of manipulation.

Master rarely honours me with a kiss, but when he does, it captivates me. He often pauses with his mouth close to mine and lets me strain forward, seeking him... sometimes allowing me that final touch, sometimes just letting me squirm under him until I give up, unfulfilled. If he allows my lips to touch his, it is most often a gentle, brief meeting, leaving me desperately wanting more. But sometimes he will push forward and take my mouth, his body saying, I own you - inside and out. A kiss like this makes my heart race and my cunt open.

Recently he placed a gag in my mouth - a leather one that covered it completely - and teased me by pressing his lips against it. He pushed against the leather, licked it, caressed it, smothered it with his mouth, while I writhed and struggled, as if the right movement could somehow make that barrier disappear. It was a frenzy of desire - I was overwhelmed with the sight of him attacking my mouth so passionately, while being denied the actual sensation.

Like orgasms, kisses are a way that Master owns and controls me, through pleasure and denial. Anyone who says they shouldn't be a part of D/s is just not thinking of the possibilities.

There's no aphrodisiac like it

Before he left, I did get to spend a night alone with Master :) I was exhausted, and a little delirious, so he waited til morning to give me my instructions for his absence...

I am not allowed to touch myself while he is away.

For some people, that might sound fine. He is only gone for a few days. But for me, thats a long time not to masturbate. Particularly when I'm staying in Master's house, with so many arousing memories, under blankets that smell of him. Particularly when I have the other major daily task he has set me, the one that I'm not allowed to write about. It keeps me thinking dirty thoughts, and makes sure I am regularly on edge. I am allowed to cum under certain specific circumstances, but those circumstances are not optimal for release.

And then of course there's the fact of the rule he has set in itself. It keeps me reminded that my body does not belong to me. It is his, and he can choose to leave it at the disposal of anyone he likes... or deny it from anyone he likes, even me. That sense of possession in itself gives me an intense longing... And the knowledge of not being allowed to fulfil it makes me just want to touch myself even more. Its like saying, don't think about a big purple dildo. Nothing makes me want to bring myself off more, than not being allowed to bring myself off.

Its the third night and I am struggling. I have reached down many times and almost touched before remembering. I have been constantly wearing underwear, even to bed, just in case. Its getting harder today as my frustration has increased to the point where I am aware of my ability to orgasm just by clenching a little, without needing to touch. It would only take a very short lapse in willpower to fail him now.

But there is no question in my mind that I will resist for him, right up until he returns and grants permission, not a moment too soon. I am absolutely his, and as much as this is tormenting me right now, it would be far worse to disobey him. Not even because of the punishment he would give me, but because I would be ashamed of disappointing him.

Now, I must go... I have a task to complete before bedtime...

The important bits are always in the silence

When I started to blog tonight, all I was thinking was "look what I did today!" I have been feeling quite pleased with myself, wanting to show off. Then chatting to Sista, she pointed out one of the nicer pleasures of the experience, and I started to think, how nice it is to have someone else with rights over my body.

Two weeks ago when Master granted permission, it felt good, not just because he said yes, but because it was his decision to make. It feels somehow warm and safe to be subject to another's opinion... forgoing the final responsibility, and pleasing him in some way via my appearance.

Even better than that is the thought of him deciding to change me for himself - without my request. Perhaps a change in my body to make me more attractive to him... or something functional, to increase his pleasure... or best of all, something that labels me as his, or simply marks my submission. Anything he chose to do to me, I would thank him for it.

I haven't blogged for a long time, though I have wanted to. I have wanted to blog about the limitlessness of Master's power over me... the things he can teach me, the things he can do to me... and the paradoxical sense of security it leaves me with, knowing the possibilities... and some of the realities.......... But there are some things I just can't write - and for good reasons. It makes me sad. I want to share my gratitude, but I can't - because people wouldn't understand. So I've been kind of stuck.

So now, I'm trying to compromise with myself, by instead, writing about the delightful pain of having my nipples pierced, and the delightful pleasure of knowing they are Master's nipples, and the hope that he will like them that way. Just as there is so much here that must be left unsaid, there is so much of his will that remains undone. And the potential positively looms...

Dance with the devil... :)

Its been one of those porn-watching days today - loads of it! I'm a girl who likes to store it for a rainy day instead of checking it out immediately. I just stash it away for months and then, when I'm suddenly feeling up for it, I'll go a whole day where all I do is go through and see what treasures I've accumulated. And there is some pretty nasty stuff that Master will just love :) But thats not the subject of this post.....

Just now I was watching this clip that started with no beating around the bush (and I love beating bush, but its not that kind of vid...) a guy on his back, with a woman riding him furiously. You could see she was enjoying herself. Then a second guy came up so she could suck his cock, and for a moment everyone was enjoying themselves. But then I found myself thinking... hang on a minute, she's not putting much effort in there.... she's barely trying to suck him at all.... doesn't she want to make sure he enjoys himself....? oh my god, now she's stopped sucking altogether while she orgasms - she's putting her pleasure ahead of his! ....why doesn't he slap her and shove that cock back into her mouth and remind her what she is there for????

And thats when I thought, um.... just a sec, that isn't me.... some women are meant to fuck for their own enjoyment, aren't they? Oops...

Sometimes I still surprise myself with how much I've changed, and it makes me smile. Concepts that seemed alien to me a year ago now seem totally natural - to the point where, I see a woman getting fucked, and my assumption is that she is being used for the man's pleasure and may or may not be allowed her own. Or the other day, I said to Sir, that I felt angry at the idea of anyone suggesting they would like to use me without his consent. Not being free to fuck alone was something I was still learning to accept when I started this blog, and now I don't even question that I am his property - and it makes me mad when someone else dares think otherwise.

Master's control over me is even evident in my dreams. I am a slut by anyone's definition, and I have a lot of fantasies and dreams. Now I don't have either without somehow incorporating Master's permission into it. There were a few times when I woke up from a sex dream in a panic, thinking I'd just disobeyed him, before I realised it wasn't real. And the other night, I couldn't even participate in my own dream! I just watched other people doing it, thinking, I have to wait for permission...

I used to think training was what happened in between play - a specified time and place where a sub is explicitly taught to please their owner. Now I know that's how crappy training is done. Quality training is done all the time, during every interaction, even simple conversation. You don't even realise its happening, except in hindsight. Thats the learning that sinks in, and changes who you are.

Wow, I am lucky :)

Come as you are

I can't believe I didn't blog about this – it's such an achievement! I guess at the time my focus was more on other things: Master was about to go away for a week, and his last night with me before he left I was feeling typically emotional. I was anticipating the agony of missing him, and sad because he was so busy with preparations he had little time for me that night. OK, I'll be honest – I'd tried not to get my hopes up, but I kept thinking it would be the perfect time for him to mark me before he went – all that healing time with no-one to be offended by it. I knew it was unlikely, as he had so much to do, but a part of me was still childishly disappointed.

He joined me in bed, and was so tired, he didn't even make a move to use me. That made me even sadder, until I gained the courage to tell him how I felt. Once it was out, I could relax more, and I reminded myself of the good points: yes, he was busy and tired on his last night before his trip, but what an honour that he still wanted me there with him, not to be used, but to serve him and cuddle up to him at night. I started to feel much happier just to be allowed to be near him. I wanted to express that, so I started gently touching him. He became aroused, so I thought, why not? And quietly asked permission to suck his cock. He allowed me to, and I savoured it – my last taste of my Master for a week to come. I wanted it ingrained in my mind. I tried to put love into it, and I found myself hoping he wouldn't fuck me – just cum down my throat and leave my cunt aching for his return.

That's when I made my big achievement. I was totally absorbed in him, sucking, and I hadn't been touched all night. And he ordered me to come. I thought for half a second, "can I?" and then tightened my muscles, and I did. A few moments later he ordered it a second time, and I succeeded even easier, and orgasmed even stronger. No stimulation except the desire to please him, and the order given. I was so focussed, I barely recognised what I'd done.

He did fuck me, by the way, and then half-smiled and said "You're a spoiled bitch, aren't you?" :)

The first time I met my Master, he told me I would learn to give him control over my pleasure. He allowed me to orgasm freely that day, but was very clear about future meetings: "After today, you will not come without permission in my presence again." And although sometimes its been a struggle, I never have. But the other side to that promise was something that seemed daunting to me – he said he would train me to orgasm on his command, not just when being used, but from pain, and eventually, only from his order.

I wasn't sure it was possible, but I hoped not to disappoint him. The first orgasm I successfully had from pain alone was incredibly intense and surprisingly easy to attain. But that was heavy stimulation, and I still wasn't sure I could come from none at all. Then, two weeks ago, I did. Simply from the sound of Master telling me to.

The next day, I was driving and feeling very horny. I remembered his voice demanding me to "come" and to my surprise, I did, alone in my car, instantly. I have again, sitting here writing this, just to test myself. Success. My body has been trained – all it takes is his order, or merely imagining his order, and I can orgasm immediately. He owns my orgasms.

Let me be honest, the sensation itself is no replacement for being filled and fucked. But being able to do this is its own kind of bliss – the pleasure and pride in knowing that it is not just my conscious behaviour that he has taken control of, but some of my most basic, automatic physiological responses. Its like my body knows it belongs to him.

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.

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? : )

Mmmm, tamed...

The last few days, I've been thinking of him even more than usual. With a gentle smile on my face. Sometimes, I whisper to myself, fuck I love him. Its probably partly the afterglow from him sharing me with a man whose name I didn't know the other day, leaving me feeling utterly used... but I keep going back to the time before, when he fell asleep and I left without waking him - he looked so peaceful and beautiful. Will he find it strange that I used the word beautiful? Lol... but that's the only word that comes to mind, for when someones appearance brings on a reaction that isn't so much about how they look, as how they make you feel. I looked at him lying there, and I wanted to touch him, kiss him, absorb him somehow....

Its got to be close to a year since I met Master by now, and I keep thinking lately about how far I've come. I've gone from a slut-out-of-control to... well, like he said the other day, still a slut, but he controls when I fuck... and who... and how... and if I may orgasm, and at what point. A year ago there was no way I would have thought I could give someone that much control. If he had said to me straight away that this was his plan for me, I would have run a mile. And he probably knew that. So he took me through it slowly, taking away my freedom bit by bit, gently enough and with enough reward that I actually enjoyed it. All along I've marveled at his shrewdness - he did what I thought was impossible: he tamed the slut. And no doubt he's not done yet.

He also did something even more challenging. I was unwilling to love him, and he not only coaxed me into doing that, but into admitting it. At first painfully, through horrified tears, torn between wanting to give myself to him and wanting to protect myself... but then slowly I've dragged myself into accepting, and then enjoying it. I still feel the fear, but its also exhilarating. I have never been this vulnerable to anyone. And I think the excitement of knowing that, makes me love him even more.

A year ago, I was looking forward to a good kinky screw. I knew I wanted more, but had someone come along and offered me what I really wanted, I would have been far too scared to take it. I even remember saying to him one night, that I wanted it all - only because I thought it wasn't possible. He told me it was, and I didn't believe him. He has proven I was wrong, and I want to hug him and tell him he's a delightful smartass.... in the most positive, respectful, complimentary way, Sir... ;)

Maybe green suits me?

Zelophilia: sexual arousal from jealousy, one's own or another person's.

I've written before about my problems with being the jealous type, and my struggles to stop that feeling when it hits. I've since realised, though, that Master doesn't necessarily want me to overcome my jealousy in this way. Sometimes, that painful, sick, green-eyed torment is exactly what he wants me to feel.

Laying in his arms last night after some great sex I hadn't expected to be having, I asked him what had happened to the straight woman he had mentioned inviting over, to play without me - the one that had caused me to launch into frantic desperation to see him, at any cost, cut with jealousy and the hurt of not being needed, begging for him to allow me to see him, even if I must be excluded from the fun. He simply replied "There wasn't one." He had let me believe he was playing with someone else, just to let me react by showing my need for him.

Its partly about control, of course - by making me feel jealous, he is able to manipulate my emotions and provoke a strong response in me, one that clearly demonstrates my attachment to him and his power over me. But it also goes further than that, in the significance of the fact that he not only has the ability, but also the right to make me feel this way. He owns my feelings and thoughts. He can do with them what he likes - including fuck with them. And as much as it is horrible to experience that insecurity and pain, knowing that it pleases him also makes it enjoyable, and makes me slip into it all the more readily.

Part of it for me is also sheer emotional masochism - I get off on him hurting me emotionally just as I do when he hurts me physically. And there is, of course, the appeal of self-sacrifice to please him. But then there's the part that I am shy about admitting to: the pleasure of knowing he cares enough to bother. I would never presume to know what Master is thinking or feeling, and fully accept that I may know only what he tells me. But a part of me likes to grasp the idea that, if he wants me to hurt when he show interest in someone else, then perhaps that shows that he cares about me, too...? Perhaps not just as his possession...? That thought is a guilty pleasure that I try not to indulge in - there are too many implications, and it seems far better for my submission for me to accept uncertainty.

My new way of dealing with my jealousy doesn't let me escape it - just as I don't try and escape any other sensation Master wishes me to feel. Jealousy is really all about power. I feel jealous because of his power, and if I try and stop myself feeling it, it amounts to taking away that power. But I also can't fall too far into the jealousy, so that I wish to control him - that is seeking power of my own. I have to let myself feel what he wants me to feel, and know that it means I belong to him, and that's all.

My name is nadi, and I am a sex addict.

Master currently has me keeping a diary of masturbation: a daily record of times, techniques, and accompanying fantasies. I am learning things from it - I have never before been so aware of the way my sexual mind works. Themes and patterns are emerging. One thing I've noticed is the cycle I go through after (real) sex. The following day I'm content and play a lot, remembering what I've just done, or had done to me. Then usually follows a period of satisfaction, where I don't need it. But soon I start to warm up again. By day four I'm touching myself compulsively. Day five I'm getting antsy. On day seven I'm truly climbing the walls. Luckily, for everyone's safety, I rarely have to wait any longer than that. I know from past experience that after that point, my psychotic evil twin starts to show, as I take my frustration out on myself and the world.

I used to be much, much worse. There was a time when I counted and calculated my average weekly number of fucks (as in, separate events, regardless of how many people were involved) to be 9. And I was single.

I was quite out of control. Now, I have someone who can control me.

Years ago, I was a smoker. I quit several times, but could never really find it in me to care much about my own health, and I was back at it soon enough. Eventually, someone I loved very much told me how much they cared. And then I could stop - not for myself, but for someone else. I haven't had a cigarette since. Now I couldn't completely give up sex for anything, but I have given up a lot of it. And once again, not for myself, but for someone else. This raises the question in my mind of what will happen if/when I am no longer his... but I'm not going there tonight....

Master has given me his control. I don't want to sound like one of those subby suck-ups I read online and roll my eyes (thats just given me an idea for another post), but.... I feel genuinely grateful for every limit he imposes on me. Thats the strange truth.