Passer Pipiabat

It’s a strange quirk of fate that the book I am reading lately is a collection of love stories. Why I picked it up, I don’t know – it is not my usual subject of choice. But it turns out to be a selection I feel close to. Each story has a unique pain, a sad passion, and an uncommon truth – just like mine, in a way.

Two years ago when I first began to tell my Master I loved him, I knew it would mean pain. But I had to make that offering. It was part of my surrender. I felt I would earn something. What; I no longer know. Approval? Affection? Tolerance of my flaws? But not for him to love me back. I never thought he would give me that.

There is a woman, I will call her ‘Elle’, who my Master adores. She seems to my limited knowledge to be so many things I am not – independent, successful, strong-willed, and beautiful. And most important, she has my Master’s love.

…I apologise, Sir, for such a bold assumption, but this is how it appears to my eyes.

So, why, if I never thought he would love me and never presumed to wish for it, does it ache so much to see his smile when he speaks of her? It is not the competition – I know very well that she and I can’t fill the same place in my Master’s life. And yet, it is the comparison. The very differences between us that make me safe, are the same things that break my heart. Every distinction between Elle’s life and mine, becomes proof of my inferiority – why else would Sir be so happy with her? She deserves something – something wonderful – that I do not.

And yes, I do want my Master to be happy. Even as it breaks me, that his happiness can be better given by someone else, I do feel glad for it. And I try to make him even happier, when he is pleased by her. I look hard for ways to serve him; I name my jealousy but suppress my sadness; I try with more determination to satisfy him when he fucks me. And sometimes, I feel like I succeed. Sometimes, I earn his praise. But love can’t be earned. It can only be given, and not to me.

A long time ago, when I submitted to Sir J, he fell in love with another submissive. At first I was happy for him, but soon I realised what that meant for me. I may have kept my place, but not his attention. I was soon wanted less often by him, and found myself waiting. When I had my turn, he was distracted and lackluster. He stopped correcting me as if he could no longer be bothered. More and more frustrated, I eventually lashed out and told him what I thought, in an effort to provoke him into putting me back in my place. I was horrified that he didn’t. Instead, he told me I was right, let me go, and focused completely on her.

This is certainly not the same. Master Paul is nothing like Sir J, and Elle is not his sub. My role and feelings for my Master now have little resemblance to what they were back then. But there is one element that remains the same: I was not as desirable as someone else. Even with no love for Sir J and not a great deal of respect for him, it cut me to be second best. And now, with far more of myself at stake, it feels crushing.

How is it possible that someone so far away, who barely knows of my existence at all, has so much power over me? If she were ever to take up residence with my Master, as his partner, she would have me as her slave without effort. Just her existence is enough to remind me of my place, bring me down to nothing, and show me that I am weak and small.

Sometimes it feels unfair. I know I am an incredible slut for him. I know I give him far more than her, and make far greater sacrifices to please him. A part of me feels I deserve “something”… she gets love… how do I get to be something special?

Maybe I don’t…?

Maybe I just get to love him and suffer for it. At least that is something I can do somewhat contentedly. Something I can feel is my blessing. Master may not care enough to give me love, but sometimes he cares to give me pain, and I am grateful. When he hurts me, I feel like I am something to him.

Please, Sir… Please may I have some more pain…?

A chosen sista...?

I met her last night, the new sub Master has begun training. I wanted to meet her, but at the same time I was disappointed. Master is going away again, and that makes me all soppy and emotional. I don’t want to share his attention when I’m feeling like that. When I know I’m about to go without him for a while, I want to be ultra close to him, try and soak some of him up, hang on to some energy or pheromone that will somehow make me less lonely in the days to come. But he seems to feel differently – perhaps even keener to make the most of the opportunities for group play… It’s different for him – it’s about maximising pleasure. Being without him is not just missing our fun, it’s feeling emptier… lost. It’s not just about pleasure for me... its about love. A part of me wants to wail, that’s all his fault! But that isn’t right – I gave him my heart willingly….. even willfully. So now I suffer some things he doesn’t.

The only thing worse than not seeing him alone at these times, is not seeing him at all. My only strategy is to please him the very best I can. Anything less will leave him disappointed in the play - and even worse, in me. So last night I dressed in my tiniest miniskirt and high heeled boots, and arrived at his house determined to maximise his pleasure, and earn his pride. I was obedient, and orgasmic when permitted, and he said “good girl.” I practiced the quiet strength that has eluded me sometimes, at the moments when I felt insecure. And there were a lot of those, the most obvious being when he was fucking her, holding her arms above her head and clamping one hand over her mouth, muffling her voice saying “yes, Sir.” But there were other moments when I was told to hold her head or push her down, and they made me ache even more. Because at those moments, I felt I was not “on the bottom”. As much as I believe him that it won’t happen, I still feared losing my place...

On the surface it would seem uncomfortable for me because the scene was overtly designed more for her training than mine. But that’s kind of the point. Being part of her training is my training - that its not about me. Jealousy, and insecurity, and that sickening sensation in my gut, are a lesson in powerlessness. In Master’s words, it reminds me who owns me. It forces me to face the fact that I can’t escape those feelings – no matter what my actions, he will still do as he likes, and my only acceptable response is submission and obedience.

Now that I’m not living with Betty anymore, I have a vacant room that, with Master’s encouragement, I have offered to this new sub. She is everything I would want in a roommate, and everything Master would want in a house with me. But I still feel apprehensive. This will challenge the green-eyed sub in me. But to avoid living with someone who is otherwise almost perfect, just to prevent that, would be denying my Master, for my own security. I may not avoid feeling whatever he wants me to feel.

Later, he also pointed out that having her in the house will give him even more of a hold on me. Through Sis.S, Master will have eyes on his property even when he is not there. That raises a whole world of possibilities…

When I look down, I miss all the good stuff... when I look up, I just trip over things

I am so afraid again. Since the last time I disappointed Master, I've felt like the ground could cave beneath me at any time. I've lost confidence in myself. I feel like I can't trust my own choices, like the outcome is no longer predictable. Everything used to be so clear, and now I'm wandering through the dark, just hoping to make the right turn. I doubt myself. I doubt my ability to please him. I doubt that I am good enough for him anymore.

On the night I fucked up, early on, he had told me he valued me. He told me I was his and would always be his if I never changed. He told me I was not replaceable. He told me that I had nothing to fear, that no one else could match me in his eyes. That meant so much to me that I cried and laughed and clung to him so hard.... and then, sometime over the next 24 hours, that beautiful sense of being worthy evaporated completely. He never took it back, but I feel like that gift he gave me, in words, is lost.

I told him last night, that I was so afraid. I told him that I feel afraid that my fear will make it even more likely that I will fail. I knew there was a good chance I could tell what his answer would be, and I was right: that my fear should make me do better, then.

Sigh.
My fear hurts. It is far better to be attentive to him out of desire to please him than fear of losing him. Desire is fueling, it gives energy. Fear is draining. Operating on fear, I don't know how long I can last before reaching panic or fatigue.

But looking at it from his perspective, he is right. It may help me stay vigilant. Painfully, and exhaustingly, but since when is it supposed to be about my comfort? And he was right not to comfort me last night. Doing that would imply that I am able to manipulate him into making me feel better, whether it was my intention or not. I don't get to decide how I should feel about it. Its up to him what is desirable.

A part of my mind tried to argue that he didn't get it last night, but I know the chances are near perfect that he does. Time and again, he has shown a much greater awareness of what I am thinking and feeling than I realise. And I should trust him. I can trust him. He will take care of me - not in a way that indulges my desires, but in a way that maintains his property to his satisfaction.

So I guess, however uncomfortable it might be, I've just got to hang in there and put in every effort. He deserves no less, and I don't really have another choice.

Dislocation

A few nights ago, I disappointed my Master again. My behaviour showed an unacceptable lack of self-control. I was selfish and shortsighted about how my behaviour reflects on him. The shame was overwhelming when I reflected and realised I had behaved inappropriately, and I emailled him my explanation and apology as soon as I could. But it wasn't enough to prevent his anger.

When Master withdraws his kindness, I am dislocated. Everything becomes purposeless. I just drift, hoping and waiting for him. At one point, I really thought I was going to lose him this time. I tried to test it in my mind, to see if I could survive it: asking myself, what if he frees you? I couldn't even comprehend it. There was no answer, just a big.............. silent........... void............

I know I am a good submissive. I used to doubt myself a lot, but over time Master has shown me just how much strength, and obedience and potential I really have. I strive to better myself and show more and more devotion to him, to go further and further into that heavenly place where I know I am enslaved, where only his desire matters. But sometimes I fail. And when I do, it seems my failures are severe.... unforgivable.

He was eerily normal the other night at first - not like last time, when his every glance was ice cold. Then he directed me to kneel beside him, my back to him. He made me sit there a long time. A very long time... until my knees throbbed in agony, my thighs tingled, and my feet felt as though they did not exist at all. I started to plead to be allowed to move, but the tone of his "no" was merciless and I went silent. The pain was not like being whipped or beaten - there was no sensuality in this, it was only agony. It took all my determination to stay there, getting closer to tears, telling myself, be strong... be strong for him... Until finally he told me to stand, and I couldn't - my legs wouldn't even twitch, and I groaned as I tried to force them, as if trying to wake a dead thing. He pushed me to the floor in contempt, and began to fuck me. He told me to crawl as he did it, and I could only drag myself with my hands, legs sliding uselessly behind me. He made me lick the floor, and I screamed as spasms of pain gradually re-entered my muscles, and a couple of tears did come, while he fucked me... his property.... used...

He said, "There are many forms of punishment, aren't there?" And it hit me how effortless it had been for him to put me there, crawling like an amputee, helpless and in pain. He hadn't even needed to touch me.

If I do something like this a third time... well... I don't even want to type it. I can't lose him. What am I without him? Just a common slut, with no one to guide me, protect me, teach me, understand me, no one to love. No one else could come close to filling his shoes.

Now my fear is all the more real. These two times I have so seriously disappointed him, I was completely unaware. I slipped up naively and failed to recognise my error until much later. Both times, I tried to right my mistake but grossly underestimated its significance. What horrifies me is that lack of awareness. If I cannot see my failure when it happens, how do I avoid it? This is very troubling to me. In a way, I feel trapped - doomed to fail no matter what effort I make. Vigilance is essential, but will it be enough?

I have to try. And think very hard. I need to please him.

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.

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.

Honesty

If I'm totally honest with myself, that whole last post was a load of BS.

Its all true, and relevant, but not the main thing bugging me at all.

The truth is, I'm just uncomfortable being so dependent on him. I'm looking for reasons why dependency is inappropriate, when really its just that I'm scared and I want an excuse to care a little less (as if thats an option).

My secret neediness has been showing, and it makes me fear driving him away. So I try and cover it up as quick as I can.

There. That was real.

Happy Day

I've always had a thing against Valentine's Day (yes, I'm another one of them). No, its not because of loneliness, but more because, despite my attachments to washing powder, I'm just not into romance. I'm more comfortable with this time of year when I'm single: all the defiant single women get out and have a few drinks, making it a good time to get laid. Its also a nice chance to send flowers to my friends and let them know they are special. This morning, for example, I left a velvet rose on the front doorstep for Betty to find when she went out (shhh! don't tell her it was me...;))

To me, valentines day is really best spent celebrating friendship. Maybe I prefer that because the unexpectedness makes it seem more genuine... or, maybe it really is just because I'm such a cynical old commitment-phobe.

Whatever it is, here's a thought I'd like to share on this V-day:

nadi's anti-valentine links:

Anti-Valentine's cards (the source of the image above)

Sexy Greg (note: sarcasm)

Condom Day (thats more like it - let's all get shagged)

The Velocity of Gary (A movie I personally enjoyed, but had terrible reviews, about a slutty bi guy named Valentino, his boyfriend, and his girlfriend - played by the very sexy Salma Hayek).

Half a glass is half a glass

A while back, at the end of a long (hot, horny, objectifying) night that should be the subject of its own post, I was resting in Master's bedroom with a woman who once belonged to him. We had both been wearing collars that night, and as I watched her remove hers in preparation to leave, she smiled and said "Unlike you, I can take this off." I just smiled back, thinking, yes, but who is really better off here? As if she'd read my mind, she sighed and added "Trust me, you don't want to reach the point where you want to."

Suddenly I felt sorry for her. I know almost nothing about her relationship with Master and whether it was anything like mine. But at that moment I briefly imagined how awful it would be if all my devotion, submission, love, and desire to please him, was one day lost. Horrible - even worse than losing him.

Now here's a question worth asking: why do I persist in imagining the worst potential outcomes? I know the answer, but I'm not going into self-indulgent psychoanalysis explaining it: I'm just shit-scared, so I don't trust any situation that involves an emotional risk. It seems safer to expect I'm doomed from the beginning.

What if I imagined good things for a change? I wonder how it would feel... And could I really let myself, or would I chicken out?

The green-eyed sub

Being a very typical scorpio, I have the unfortunate challenge in life of being the overly jealous type. Not easy for a sub who loves group sex and prefers the poly life, but in general, I think I've done well to learn to deal with it. While once I would get hysterical over the smallest things, now I have strategies. Step one is to grab the impulse to freak out before it takes me, and control myself, breathe. Step two is to be honest with myself: I am being jealous here, its not about anything horrible or nasty anyone else has done to me, its my feeling and my problem, and only I can change it. Then finally I find some reassurance, some memory to remind the insecure part of me that feels jealous that there really is nothing to worry about, the object of my jealousy is not a threat.

Most of the time, this works pretty well for me. For example, an invite is issued to join a (very sexy) woman at her gangbang party. My inner green-eyed-monster rises up at the thought of being there at her party - and she is so much sexier than me, according to the monster. Quick, stop that impulse. Reality check: I'm feeling jealous because I want to be the centre of attention. Reassurance: I am a very sexual person, and I will get attention of my own - its not a competition... I have my own parties to enjoy, let her have hers... and finally, I don't need to be the number one woman there for every man in the room, I only need to be important to one of them: my Master. And if I behave well and continue to please him, she is no threat to that. The monster vanishes, problem solved. Now I can just look forward to the fun. Easy.

But sometimes its not so easy. Sometimes the reality check doesn't stop me feeling hurt, even thought nobody has actually done anything negative to me at all. Sometimes the reassurance doesn't help. What to do then? Fish for compliments? Its hard to voice my feelings without worrying I will pressure him to accommodate my insecurities. I don't want him to change what he does. I want to accept it and feel safe, that I am his, that I will serve him in the way he chooses, that I am valued for that. I want that to be enough.