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.

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.

Larger than life

The first time I was allowed into Master's bedroom, my face was covered by a leather hood . I couldn't see a thing, and perhaps because my senses were limited to such a small, dark cavity, I had the feeling of a vast space around me. I pictured the room I was being led into, as enormous! A decadent hardwood bed.. elegant, well-placed mirrors... heavy, plush curtains... high-ceilinged and rich with the smell of lust.

It was just a regular-sized room, of course. There were mirrors, but otherwise it was nothing like I imagined. Master's bedroom is perfectly normal, and now I know it very well. But sometimes... when I lie in his bed and close my eyes... I sense that vast space around me once more, and again feel as though I am in some kind of royal chamber. Blind awe.

Master takes on larger proportions in my mind, too. When I am next to him, my body feels smaller. I am fragile and expectant. I kneel and feel tiny. I close my eyes, and he becomes mammoth.

Its not just his power over me that brings on this sense of his greatness; its him. Master seems full of endless stories about other lives and experiences, times and places I will never see. I admire him for his intelligence, his integrity, his sense of justice. I adore him for his playfulness, sense of humour, and incredible knowledge and passion for music. I revere him to the point where at times he seems omnipotent to me.... knowing every secret corner of my mind, all my fears, my longings, and my weaknesses. I could hide nothing from him, if I tried.

I was lying in a hammock today contemplating nothing, and I suddenly remembered a fantasy from childhood. I recalled wrapping a hammock around my young body so that I was cocooned, and imagining that I was trapped there. In my mind, I was bound, mummified, suspended and waiting for my captor to return. Lying completely still, I would summon the feeling of perfect helplessness, and the ambivalent longing to know where I was and who was holding me there, mixed with the fear that when they returned, I would wish for the familiarity of my restraints. I was blind to their intent and both eager and fearful of my fate. I would lie there, as an innocent child, secretly creating an erotic tension in my mind around the question of where I would be taken and what would be done with me.

Two years ago I never thought I could really become who I am now. But I did know I was ready for something, and I wanted to be taken as far as I could go. It was my choice to give myself to him, but I had no way of knowing where that choice would lead - mentally, emotionally, or physically. I could only wait and see. In many ways, I feel less that I went to him, and more that I was willingly captured.... and led blindly forward into a new place, able only to hope and trust, as I slowly learned what waited for me in his arms.

Happy birthday Sir, and thank you.

A conversation with vanilla Betty

"Do you and your Master ever have normal sex?"

"Um... what's normal sex?"

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

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

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

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

Niche

I just love to be close to my Master.

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

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

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

I think its more than that, though...

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

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

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....

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.

Tantrum

Its been a bit longer than normal since I've blogged - bloody life, it always gets in the way of the things you want to do, doesn't it?

Speaking of delayed gratification, its been another long, lonely stretch without Master. For good reasons. I don't know if that makes it better or worse.

I thought it wasn't getting to me as badly as usual. Normally I'd be a wreck by now, but this time I've been holding it together fairly well. I'd definitely been feeling it (and he has been pretty open about his frustration, too). I've been missing him a lot, thinking about him all the time, and horny as a lonely slut can get - but I haven't gone psycho. Yet.

Tonight, I thought I might get to see him at last. But then circumstances intervened... and it hit me all at once how badly I had wanted to be with him. I cried, and clenched my teeth and pulled at my hair. I wanted to throw my phone across the wall and smash it into pieces - but that would mean no contact with him at all. I went nuts at Betty when she uttered a syllable (mental note: I'll have to apologise in the morning). The evil bitch in my mind started pacing and imagining stories about what Master was doing and thinking right now without me - stupid, spurious things that served the sole purpose of making me feel a million times worse. Perhaps I find anxiety and despair more tolerable than anger and frustration...

As the initial energy wears off, I find myself sulking like a two-year-old. I. WANT. MY. SIR.

When it gets like this, I don't even think about what I'd like to do with him anymore. He talks about this person or that couple and possibilities of play, seeking my thoughts, and I have to muster all my patience to stop from just saying to him: "I don't give a FUCK!" Sincerely, all I can imagine is dropping at his feet, perhaps with him sitting and resting his arms on me. I want to hibernate there. There would be peace. I want to sink into him and die there. What else is there?

*sigh*

Ok, next time I blog, I hope to have something positive to say. For now, I'm going to go to bed, hold my pillow and a tissue, and sulk some more. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get to be with him in a dream...

The happy prisoner

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

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

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

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

Thicker than blood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Absence

Funny, the things that make you miss someone. People talk about a particular song, or a street name, or a time of day that brings on that sense of nostalgia and makes them long for the one they love. For me, today, it was a true anti-romantic's cue. I was alone in a park and I saw a man alone on the other side of the grass, looking at me. It triggered memories of things I'd done for Master, and of things he'd said, and made me repeat back to him. Promises, hopes, and fantasies.

I miss him so much I feel sick. I feel alone.

Please let me come home, Sir...

More wait...

When he finally spoke to me, it gave me some relief, but I hadn't anticipated the new torment: I'm now richoceting around from one emotion to another almost randomly. One minute I'm on a high knowing he has not rejected me totally, imagining the ecstacy it will be when I may finally see him again... the next minute I crash into despair at having disappointed him so badly, and feel sick at the shame I will feel when I may look at him again. And in between, the anxiety of waiting for the next contact - as much as it helps me cope to hear something from him, it is also a tease that makes me want to throw myself into his arms, feel his heartbeat, and smell his warm sweat. And I hate that I know, that when I am finally permitted to see him, I may not do that, or even touch him until he allows it.

But I should not complain. The small amount of contact he has given me is far, far better than the unbearable pain of nothing at all, and I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for the simplest message, even a stern one. At first, I struggled with doubt, completely uncertain what he would want from me, but now knowing that my waiting pleases him, makes me much stronger. And now that I am past the initial panic, I can better consider my mistakes, as I know he would want me to.

I still have to wait, and I don't know when he will speak to me again, how long it will be before I may greet him as usual, or when I will be permitted to see him...... and what he will do with me when that time comes.... but no matter how harshly he treats me, it will be worth it just to see him again.

Held

I was woken by my son at 5.30 this morning, and after settling him and going back to bed, I was drifting towards sleep when I heard my phone buzz next to me. I knew only Master would sms me at that time of the morning, so I roused myself enough to read what it said: "Glad to see you are beginning to realise just how much I know you."

It was perfect timing. I was just awake enough to read it, then fall back asleep with a smile on my face and into a stunning dream about his hands, larger than life, not just touching me but going right through me and knowing me inside and out.

Now, today, I felt that wonderful, warm, confined, enslaved feeling again. I had to laugh at myself - the experience that brought it on wasn't even real, lol...

But in a way, it is real - he knows me so intimately that I have trouble believing it possible. Right from the beginning, he has seemed to understand me completely. A part of me just can't accept that - surely its all in my mind? But time and again, he proves its not. It doesn't make sense, but its true.

Its also true that I don't like people to know me too well. I think I've written this before, but even my closest friends are around for years before I let them know much about me at all. I like to keep me to myself. Why? Control, I guess. Less risk. Less chance of showing weakness. But with Master, I am ultimately vulnerable, and it feels good. Scary, but good. And it doesn't make me weak, it makes me strong.

Need

Like I wrote a couple of days ago, lately I have been needing him - craving him. Its been a very emotional ride in my life lately and the constant thought in the back of my mind has been that seeing him will make it all better. So its been a frustrating week, with all the shit of daily life constantly getting in the way of me seeing Master, and each time it does, I've felt weaker and lonelier.

Last night was the breaking point. I probably would have taken no for an answer, to be a good girl, but I really didn't want to, and I would have been a very unstable girl. I waited at home, naked, as he would want to find me, praying to who-knows-what that he would come. As it got later I got more anxious, knowing that each hour meant less chance I would get what I needed tonight. I hesitated to sms him and ask, afraid of hearing that the answer was no. Eventually I had to. The answer wasn't no, but it wasn't positive. I started crying. I fucking needed him. I sent him another message saying so, begging him to see me. It was very late, and I knew my chances were slim. He suggested I make the drive. I hesitated... Betty was asleep, and if I left the house, and my son woke up, and she didn't know I wasn't here, surely she would be furious...

Fuck it. I grabbed my phone and my keys and walked out the door. Did I mention I was naked? Yes, still. Putting on clothes seemed a trivial waste of precious time, and my nudity felt right - to drive over and walk up to his front door, presenting myself to him bare and vulnerable, seemed perfect for my state of mind.

Driving over, my confidence waned a little as I wondered if other drivers would notice. I thought about the jacket in my back seat, wondered if I should put it on. But I gave myself a pep-talk instead - it was late, and dark, and who the hell would see? .... try a dozen council workers on late-night roadworks on the highway, that's who. I crawled along in slow traffic with them all standing around within spitting distance from my car, cringing under the gigantic floodlights. But if any of them noticed, they didn't show a sign.

It was probably a good thing, going through the roadworks actually, it gave me something else to focus on for a few moments besides my overwhelming need to be with Master. After I passed them, I felt calmer, a tiny bit more ok. I got to his house and jumped out, walking straight to his front door, and rang the bell. He stood there looking at me, through his security door, leaving me standing there for a few moments, naked in the night air. I felt ready to try and claw my way through the door, not to get inside, but to touch him. Finally he opened it, and I could, but I struggled with self-control - all I wanted was to throw myself on him, and cling to him. He allowed me a brief cuddle before telling me to go to my corner and wait while he finished what he had been doing.

I had to force myself to do that, and it was the hardest wait I've ever had for him. I'd been needing him and waiting for him for days, and now finally he was in the next room, and I had to wait some more. I started to cry again. I toyed with the idea of begging him to let me sit with him instead of in my usual corner. I tried to distract myself by staring at the artwork on his walls. I tried to be quiet, but he could probably hear me, and he let me wait.

I feel a need to interrupt myself here and point out that Master is not a cold man. He is calm, and has a great deal of self control (not to mention nadi-control, lol). He knew how much I needed him, but still he let me wait, and it was right that he did so. He is not callous or indifferent to my feelings, but he doesn't indulge them indiscriminantly either. He owns me, and its up to him what he gives me and when I am allowed it. If I was able to demand what I wanted through emotional displays like this one, I would lose respect for him. So I needed to be with him, but I also needed to wait.

So I sat there crying and waiting for him, feeling more than a little ashamed and stupid for the whole thing. He wouldn't want me like this, I thought, he wanted a stable, rational slavegirl, not one who would lose the plot from missing him. Was I really worth it for him, with all this drama? Finally he came into the room and sat in the chair next to me. This time I didn't have to restrain myself from throwing myself at him - I couldn't even look at him until he ordered me to. Then he guided me close to him, and finally let me hug him with my head on his chest...

What do people say when they see someone in tears? They say something reassuring, tell them its all ok, or going to be, or ask why, make you talk about it to feel better - in other words, they want you to stop crying. But not Master. He held me to him, and said "Cry." And I did, and I felt such gratitude and relief, because he didn't reject the way I felt. I give him everything, and he gives me acceptance. Thats even better than love.