some nothing

I was driving recently past a fast food chain and a memory hit me - something I hadn't thought about almost since it happened three years ago. It was the night Master and I were attending our first BDSM party as a pair. I had limited "scene" experience, and it felt like an honour to accompany him as his own for the first time - so naturally I was nervous. I wanted to be seen with him, and to make him proud. But as we were getting ready to leave, something happened... a conflict with someone important to him. He spoke to me gently and suggested I go alone, and he would join me at the party later... after he sorted the issue out.

I didn't want to go alone. I had looked forward to arriving with him... as his. To be without him felt shameful, and lonely. I wanted to wait for him... but he said no.

I am ashamed to say it, but on that night out, I did not have faith in my Master's word. Driving to the party, I was convinced he would not come at all. I thought I would wait for him there all night, looking at my watch, trying to excuse him to the other guests, to convince them that, no, I hadn't really been abandoned. Until finally I would leave, still alone. Thinking this, I pulled over at the fast food place and sat in the car park for a long time, trying not to cry. Because, in my mind, what this meant was clear: I was not important. He did not care about me. I meant nothing. And I felt sure I would be forgotten that night.

But I wasn’t forgotten. He did turn up at the party, to my relief and surprise.

Now, three years later, I still belong to him. Despite my failings, my weakness, my uncertainty. Despite what can only be described as my crisis. On this one issue, I still find it difficult to have faith in my Master’s word: I am something to him.

Why is it so hard for me to accept that I could matter? Being nothing hurts, but it feels real, and easy to slip into. Being something, that feels so warm… and safe… and frightening. It feels vulnerable, which is somehow worse than pain. The more I mean anything to him, the more I need him, until I don’t know where I am in this anymore. My sense of place becomes soft, until I need his cruelty, desperately, to bring me back. His derision makes the world solid again.

Too much care and I can’t stand it. Too much malice and I can’t stand myself. Can I find a space in the middle, where I can be both his something and his nothing?

I can’t tell what is possible anymore, and I’m not sure I even want to think anymore. My head can’t cope with the questions it’s trying to ask. It tries, and then…… Crisis. Escape.

But escape is not permissible. Master will not allow it. He will keep me for as long as he desires. And just that, helps me to feel safe again. I don’t need the answers, and I don’t need to cope with this alone. I can let go – I have no choice. The answer will be found, or it won’t – all I have to do is obey him, letting my own will go. Easy to do, when I don’t know where it lies anyway.

And here, in his firm grip, without choice, is where I find that balance: I am important enough that he will keep me; and I am insignificant enough that he will use force if he must. This feels peaceful. This feels like love.

Assrape

And my ass wasn't left alone to recover the next night, either.

Master's guest had a thick cock. A very thick cock. And he was not to be dissuaded from where he wanted to fuck me with it. I was still sore and could barely handle the feeling of his fingers probing my ass. When he finally managed to force his cock into it, I screamed. And screamed. And it wasn't over fast.

I said to another sub recently, that I hoped to learn to accept heavy use of my asshole more easily. But it doesn't matter, if I do or I don't. Master is showing me, it will be used anyway. It is his.

0

When Master asked me, What are you, deep down? If you strip everything away to the core, what is left? I could only answer, ‘nothing’. I didn’t think it was the answer he was expecting. But the truth of it was, the question left me feeling empty.

When Master found me, I was a slut. Now, I am his. I am still a slut, because that is how he wants me. See the change? Being his is the centre, the beginning. I am openness. Yielding. Submission. With him, anything. Alone, stripped of my reference point… nothing.

Being a slut was just a filler. A way I could be something that what was wanted of me. I want to please – that is why being a slut comes naturally to me. Now I have someone to please, and the slut part becomes secondary.

See how it’s not a choice? Once I let that become my purpose and my meaning, there was no taking it back. I don’t decide what I am anymore. The slut was given to him, in exchange for nothing.

The question of consent is a cunning one. The reality of who determines what, and for whom, can run people in circles. I am his because I gave myself to him. But at the same time, I was his long before I ever even considered making that surrender. Probably from the moment we met.

I may not ever leave him, and I am glad. If I ever try, I hope he drags me back. I would be devastated and grateful. Because that is his right. Oh, sure, I know that legally things are more black and white than that. But legal or not, and consenting or not, I would willingly serve him, and defend his right. He owns me because I gave my rights to him; and I gave them because he already had them. It's a chicken and an egg, and there is no answer, and no undoing the cycle. Take away any part, and you are left with nothing. Consent becomes a myth that you can try and believe in, or...

Emo slut

Last night, as I begged Master to cut me, he said, "Are you an emo slut? Or just a slutty emo?" and for a second, I felt like I'd been sprung… exposed… a secret discovered. Of course, that is one of my Master's most captivating talents – he sees right through me, and speaks aloud exactly what makes me shy away.

I would like to pretend I am a poster girl for cheerful, emotionally stable submissives, but I most definitely am not. I am moody and anguished. I am drawn to darkness, and to the 'edge'. I try and hide it, even from myself, but a part of me is fascinated with the idea of my own destruction. I want to feel my blood running over my skin. I want to feel my head float away from lack of oxygen. I want to feel the fear and exhilaration of wondering if I will live through this. Recently when Master released his hold on my throat and allowed me to gasp for air again, I thanked him for my breath… for my life. I remember thinking I would also have wanted to thank him if he had chosen to deny it.

No, I am no rainbows and fairies girl.

But my Master makes me feel light. Pleasing him I feel blessed, comforted, and secure. I feel I can live and be happy. As he said to me more than once, I can do anything.

Today I had the pleasure of being the subject of a media interview – with my Master's permission, to talk publicly on radio about what it is like to be a slave without limits. The portion they played was short and sweet and positive, and I was pleased to hear what they chose to include. But there was one hard question they asked that was edited out of the final… they said, "has he brainwashed you?" That was a question I couldn't answer – not in a public statement. Instead I laughed. The response on my lips, though, was "I don't care." If the type of training my Master performs on me – on my heart, and on my mind – is brainwashing, then so be it! I am just as grateful to him no matter what the name.

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...

Spoils

"The four friends gathered in a circle, and in its middle was placed the girl, dressed as she had been at the moment she had been seized.... she was stripped, and, naked, passed and passed again, five or six times over, from one of our libertines to the other, she was turned about, she was turned the other way, she was fingered, she was handled, they sniffed, they spread, the peeped, they examined the state of the goods, was it new, was it used, but did all this coolly and without permitting to upset any aspect of the examination."

I've been reading a delicious peice of literature lately, and its images are imprinting themselves on my mind. Its author is incredibly cruel to his characters, and I think what makes me enjoy that the most is the utter lack of feeling for them. They are described factually and coldly, and their tortures are outlined with total impartiality. Its not the events of the story that turn me on, so much as the incredible indifference - what can only be called pure sadism.

It was in this frame of mind that I waited in Master's bed last night, until he finally climbed in, followed closely by a visitor who walked in the front door and straight to the bedroom. I was fingered and fucked, loving feeling as insignificant an object as a girl from the book. The visitor knew not to ask what I wanted, that I was there to be taken, and regarded me as a thing for my Masters pleasure.

Afterwards, he told me I was spoiled. What can I say to that? Its true, on this occasion Master gave me permission to orgasm freely for some time.... and he did some things specifically to get a hornier, wetter reaction from me. But our visitor wasn't around when I had begged him for permission to masturbate that morning, then spent and hour in front of the pc touching myself at his instruction, but not allowed to come.... and he didn't see me squirming and sighing all day because I was so desperate for a fuck that I couldn't sit still. The visitor had never been there when I was deliberately made sick with jealousy, or when I was reduced to tears by having my emotional buttons pushed for Master's entertainment. He hadn't been there to see me tied outside, soaking wet and shivering in the cold, or forced to kneel until I cried from the cramps in my legs. Would he still call me spoiled if he'd seen that?

Maybe he would. Master sometimes asks, "don't you think you are spoiled?" and I really don't know what to say then. To answer "no" sounds so ungrateful. To answer "yes" sounds both critical and smug. The honesty rule doesn't give me an answer either: I genuinely don't know if I am spoiled or not. Who am I to measure how he should treat me?

All I want to say when I'm accused of this is, so what? Master treats me the way it pleases him to treat me. Sometimes that means making sure I enjoy myself immensely - but does that mean its just for me? What about the fact that it pleases him to see me writhing in lust and enjoying myself sometimes? What about the sensation he likes to get when I orgasm so intensely that he says it is like an earth tremour around his cock? If I'm spoiled, its not because Master feels an obligation to my enjoyment, but because he has much to gain from spoiling me.

The thing I have loved most when Master doesn't spoil me, when he is simply mean and cold and hurts me, is that he regards me with the exact same detached level-headedness as when he gives me more obvious pleasure. He is indifferently passionate, and tenderly cruel. Spoiled or not, I am his object, and I love it that way.

Can the unowned choose their owner?

"Hi my supreme Master. Please Sir may i obediently submit myself mind body and soul into your complete control ownership as your domain and as your slave today. I will completely submit to any and every thing you have in mind to force on me. As your possession I have no choice."

What is that?
What makes someone think they have the ability to write a message like that to my Master?
And why does it bother me so much?
He shares that with me and I am confounded. I want to share in his pleasure, but I also feel the bitter need to defend....... something...

It's not like jealously, so much as territoriality... which sounds awful - Master is not 'mine'. But statements like that feel like someone stepping in on my ground, with little or no effort, and that offends me. Most of the time these are messages from people who barely know Master, or haven't met him at all.... So my the first question in my mind is always, don't they realise we take this seriously? That when I say I belong to him, its actually true and not just something that applies when I'm horny??

When I met Master, I would never have said those things to him - and not just because I was scared of committment, lol. How disrespectful it would have felt, to just 'decide' that I was 'his', without him making that decision! And to suggest, by implication, that I wouldn't take it seriously if it was one day really so.

He spoke to me recently about how far I have come - from a naughty, risk-taking slut kneeling in my living room the first time we met.... trained in less than two years to become completely his. To take all the pain, humiliation, body fluids, and control that he wishes.... and still be an extreme slut, under his guidelines.

I have been noticing lately that I almost seem to have lost a part of my sluttiness - the part that is always wanting more. I was with him last night and I noted that after a week without cock I was coping far better than normal. He said that was good, that it meant I was changing my focus... and I realised he was right. These days, when he talks of playing with this person or that, I just don't react with the same enthusiasm I used to - not because I'm not interested, but because I'm not constantly wanting more. He is more important.

It's taken a lot for me to get this far. I've worked hard for him, and he has put a lot of work and effort into me. All the pain, the tears, the hard learning, the love, the submission of one thing after another..... it has been worth it. I have earnt my place... and I continue to earn it. No wonder its such an insult when a stranger sees fit to tell my Master they are his.



PS. That's 100 blog posts, today :)

Nothing else to give

Have you ever woken from a dream so real and so frightening that the experience of it floats with you, confusing your reality for the whole day? Have you ever had that feeling, and realised that it wasn't a dream?

I barely know how to explain the intense evening with Master last night. I feel like my whole world has changed - and yet, I also know there is nothing new here. Master has owned me so completely for some time now, that I can promise myself to him for the rest of my life and it doesn't really matter - he can take that if he wants it, anyway.

But after the words we spoke last night I feel that - finally - everything has been handed over to him. My only choices are the ones he allows me, and my only task is to please him.... and please him..... indefinitely....

He rewarded me with some magical words: you are doing well; and more importantly: I am proud of you. Followed by the most fulfilling kiss.

Today I keep finding myself sinking into a strange reverie, going forward in my mind, and trying almost to rehearse what "forever" would be like. I can't distinguish between my desire and my fear - but I do know, that it feels good to know I may never leave him. Its like that time so long ago that I gave up my freedom and grieved.... I feel simultaneously so fearful and secure, both safe and unsafe. The difference is, this time I am so much stronger - strong enough to face what my commitment to him really means. I hope I can prove to him - and myself - that I'm strong enough to live it.

Truth takes you by surprise

Its amazing how used to something I can get, so that it feels totally normal, and then suddenly experience all over again exactly how degrading it really is.

I was used four times the other day. I truly wish I could share the nature of the first time, but its one of the things on Master’s “top secret” list. Suffice to say it left me quite raw - my pussy swollen and sensitive.

Following straight after that was a fuck from a man I found very off-putting. While I don’t need to find someone attractive to fuck them, its rare for me to meet someone I’d prefer to say no to. This one was an exceptional turn-off. But it wasn’t optional – Master owed him. So I was used, and I tried to please him, even more aware than usual that it wasn’t my choice.

When I was told to go to Master’s house later that night, I was reluctant. Anyone who knows me would find it hard to imagine: nadi not wanting to be fucked??! Lol. But I was sore, red, swollen and very uncomfortable from the day’s treatment. On the one hand, I love it when being fucked hurts... but on the other, if I was sore now, after Master used me, it would get much worse...

Not only did he use me, but he also humiliated me and had me fucked and licked by a timid, apologetic sub boy, while I groaned in discomfort, unable to hold still from the pain and swelling by the time they were done. I stood there afterwards, holding on to Master's bed post, rocking back and forth in some vague attempt to ease the pain enough to walk properly, and it seemed totally natural to be there, feeling this way. Not once did it occur to me that there was anything out of the norm about this situation...

Not until two days later, reliving this in my mind, when I realised how normal it felt to be so used. And how high and warm and blissfully controlled it felt to know how normal it feels. Being owned, a slave, a slut, an object, is now so easily a part of me. What was once alien and exciting is now familiar and comfortable. I contemplated that today, and felt a rush of awe and pleasant shame that made me self-consciously wrap my arms around my body, at my desk at work.

In many ways its lovely to be getting used to this.... but I hope I am never too used to it, so that I don't have these hot moments of such strong awareness that this is all real.

Promises, promises

There is nothing quite the same as the grim feeling of deciding to break a promise to myself. I'm stubborn in some ways, I suppose, though I prefer to think of it as loyalty and perserverance. But obviously, if anything can convince me to break a promise I made to myself, its my Master's will.

It was many years ago when, to escape poor body image and pressure to conform, I vowed never to change my shape for a man. A lot has changed since then. My body is no longer my own, and pride is no longer an excuse. It still took a bit of mental pressure to get me to accept breaking the promise. But just a bit.

Master has been too kind to make me feel bad about my recent weight gain, but he has given me a little nudge on the topic. It was in my dreams where he really got strict on it - I woke up panting after dreaming he had tied my hands and leashed me to a treadmill to get me moving. Lol.

In the end, I've got to get over myself and please my Master. I want to take care of his property as he would like me to. I want him to be as proud of my appearance as I hope he is with my behaviour. He owns my body, and he deserves to have it please him. So today, I walked into a gym for the first time in my life. This is a big deal for me. I am, I suppose, breaking another limit for him, and this one I have to do on my own.

I smile sometimes, when I think how much he has changed me in such a short time...

Answer

Master has been noting lately that I have been prone to tardiness - delays answering his sms's, not answering the phone, not emailling him when I should.... I could make a million excuses but I know better than to try - none of them actually excuse anything. I should be attentive to him, always. This is not a part time, when-it-suits-me situation. No matter how busy I may be, he should have my attention.

Last night, he warned me. The punishment I will be given, if my attentiveness does not improve - a night with an unimpressive master.

I was surprised - it seemed light, for Master's usual choice of consequences. But then I thought about it... and thought about it... and I began to realise the meaning behind it....

Master tells me it is not just about pleasing him - he is training me to be the best. If I deserve to be owned by him, as his 'number 1', I will behave that way. But if I behave as an average sub, I deserve only an average master. I must prove I deserve more.

The experience of being sent to someone else for a night wouldn't, in itself, be that bad. But the more I consider it, the more the thought becomes very uncomfortable - being told by Master's actions, if you behave like a common sub, you will be treated like one. Him showing so little pride in me, that he would leave me to the devices of someone he neither likes nor respects. That would be misery, and shame.

There is another, darker message in this also. Its about showing Master the appreciation he deserves. It is an honour for me to be accepted as his possession, and something I must work to live up to. Because if I were not his, then the average, PC, unimaginative, undisciplined Dom is exactly what I would have instead. And I should not forget it.

Some time ago, I asked Master, Sir, how may I serve you better? It was a big question, and one I had considered before offering it. I feel now, coinciding with the arrival of my new sista-in-training, that I am receiving an answer. And I am grateful.

"SSC is so PC"

Master said that the other day, quoting someone, I believe. We were visiting a D/s couple so that he could share me in exchange for another sub. They were a very "PC" pair, complete with a safe word, 'safe, sane, consensual' play, and very distinct limits. It was, as Master said, a chance for me to show off. He stood me in their living room in a collar and leash, with a bit in my mouth, and outlined my training, adding that I have no safe word, and "no real limits".

I didn't get into BDSM because of an interest in politics. I got into this to push the boundaries of safety, and bend the rules of sanity. Thats what feels good - the pleasure of there being no limits... no rules except the ones Master creates. He is in control - not me, and not a people-pleasing theoretical principle.

Consent is meaningless between Master and I. I gave up the right to consent a long time ago, near the beginning. It was a fascinating feeling, like emotional free fall, to give all my rights away - a kind of agony that felt so right. He demonstrated to me what that meant, pushing me far enough that I thought my heart would collapse, as I screamed and sobbed and begged him not to take me there... but he had to... to show me what I had promised... so I knew it was real. I spent one day grieving my freedom, but even then, when he asked me, is this what you want? the answer was a definite yes.

I hadn't known Master long then, and you could argue it wasn't the smartest thing to do - give up consent to someone I hadn't built a lot of trust with. But the only real way to know trust is to test it. I feared him sometimes, but always reminded myself to give him my trust. Now, I have never felt so safe. Not because of limits or safe words, or any other restriction, but because I have learned what it is to be owned. If Master looks after me, it is because he takes care of what is his. If he harms me, it is because he chooses to.

There was a time when I could have understood what the couple from the other day got out of power play, but I have honestly forgotten. If you give up power to someone, within limits, and with a way out, then you haven't really given up anything at all. I'm not criticising those who do it that way... but I don't see how they could be fulfilled. The couple we played with the other day may not be representative, but they certainly didn't seem to be.

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...

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.

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.

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.

Hooked

I've long hated the idea of being dependent on anyone. It probably sounds silly here, but I'm actually a very independent, in-control kind of person. Perhaps thats what makes giving up control so powerful for me. Or maybe thats just nonsense, and it would be a powerful experience for anyone. But anyway...

I asked myself tonight, to imagine a scenario. Imagine I'm not involved in D/s at all. I'm happily attached in a totally vanilla relationship. (Already a stretch...) My guy goes away for a week, to the other side of the country, for work-related stuff. And on the night he is due to return, I get a message from him saying sorry, but he won't be back til the following morning. How do I feel? Pretty annoyed, probably pretty sexually frustrated. But I'd deal with it.

Master has been away for a week and I got exactly that message tonight. How do I feel? Fucked up. I cried. I wanted to scream and throw myself on the floor and kick my legs. I sulked. I feel like a child.

A long time ago, before I could say the 'L' word out loud, I remember Master asking me "How do you feel about me?" I said as much as I could at the time: "I need you, Sir." It was an easy answer, but very truthful. I have needed him since the beginning.

So what is it that has brought about this dependence? Is it a natural consequence of intense power exchange? Or is this something more specific to the way Master has shaped my attachment to him? Or is it just something characteristic of me? I worry about this sometimes. It may just be my own discomfort with it, but I worry that he finds my dependence an inconvenience. Other times I wonder if maybe he likes it. And sometimes I think maybe he likes it to be there, but unexpressed until the right time.

If you love someone, and the object of your love has immense power over you, and you, none over them, perhaps that will always create a dependence on them. The powerless seeks the beloved powerful... seeks their approval, their kindness... or their meanness.... anything of them. Anything to know they matter, that their existence has some effect on the powerful other... yes, I can see how it might be unavoidable.

Dependence makes me shift uncomfortably in my seat. I don't want to need. Anything. But he makes me constantly aware that I do. I fucking do. I console myself with a reminder that it is just another way he owns me. That he owns whatever it is inside that seeks to be fulfilled by my need for him.

I barely even care about how well I am expressing this tonight... except that it is for him. It has been a long week without him, and I feel drained knowing that he was going to be here within a couple of hours, and now..... who knows when. Thats the worst. The not knowing when. All the times I go nuts not seeing him, compared to the times I cope, the difference is in knowing when. If I at least know what hour to look forward to, I can hang in there without regressing to nadi the child.

It has been lonely looking after his house for him, but also a comfort to be surrounded by 'him' in so many ways. And the comfort of doing things I know would please him, if he were here to see them. It is an honour that he entrusted me with such a responsibility. But now I'm past it. I just want him back. I want to kiss him. I want to smell him, touch the soft skin on his face. I want to hear him breathe. I want to feel his arms holding me, his weight on top of me. I want to tell him I love him, and that I've given him my life.

I'm delaying going to bed, it will feel empty. But maybe I'll dream about him, and maybe when I wake up, he won't be far away....

Sheath

Quite a few years ago, I was probably looking for some kinky porn when I came across a photo of a woman, legs spread, and a hand holding the handle of a knife. The blade was invisible, presumably buried inside her pussy. That photo both disturbed and fascinated me. I decided not to save it, it was a little too much for me at the time, but the image returned to my mind again and again in fantasy, imagining what it would be like to have someone hold a knife inside me, helpless and immobolised, not with restraints, but with the fear of what would happen if I flinched.

The part that interests me most now is, at the time, I didn't believe the photo was real. I genuinely thought it just wasn't possible to put a sharp blade there and not damage someone. I guessed that in the photo, there was no blade - it was just someone holding a broken-off handle in the right place to spark one's imagination. And it worked.

I still believed it couldn't be done when Master first touched a blade against my lips. I was still new to knife play at the time and the adrenaline was already intense. And I was loving it. I remember him saying "you are so wet, I bet I could fuck you with this and it wouldn't even cut you." I smiled, thinking he was teasing me. He wasn't. He slid it in and I froze, terrified. He reassured me and kept going. I concentrated on breathing, trying to relax and stay as still as I could. I felt high with fear, and I reminded myself over and over to trust him. When he withdrew the knife, he showed me the glistening line that marked how far it had been inside me. I had remained still while he took complete control over me, via one most sensitive part of my body, made vulnerable to a blade. What an incredible rush!

Last night, I had the added pleasure of being watched intently by a group of people while I took it, some of them loving it, others more uneasy than I had been after finding that photo years before. Now, the adrenaline and fear that originally made the experience, has been replaced by a kind of peace. As I lay there, I give him total trust, easily surrendering to his desire and skill. [Emphasis on skill: I'm not talking about anyone poking me with a sharp object and just hoping for the best! lol...] I still remind myself to breathe and relax, now to let the knife in further, proving that my body is his to take, in any way he pleases.

As I lay there last night, feeling the eyes on me, I felt proud to show that I could give my Master so much trust. And that he is completely deserving of it. Who else could take me so far beyond what I thought I was able to do, to fully explore my potential, and remain in such capable hands? I am incredibly lucky to have met him, and earned his ownership. And I wanted everyone to know it.

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.

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.