All I want for Christmas is a welted arse...

I have come to realise something over time: my Master is not just a Master. He is a manslut. Please note that I mean nothing offensive by that. Merely that he is a man who loves to ‘get around’, and fuck as many people as possible in as many ways as possible. Variety is the spice of his sexual life. And he loves to mix spices – orgies and groupies of any kind are top of his list. As are any new hot bitch or tight arse. That is why he spends so much time browsing for newcomers, and why it matters to him if any one of them doesn’t pan out. Because he wants to fuck them all.

I, too, am a slut. But the point of difference between my priorities and Master’s, is that I am primarily a subslut. The top of my list is whatever will be the roughest, the most painful, the more humiliating, the hardest kink. But obviously, it is not my list that determines what we do.

Occasionally I try to tell Master, that I don’t care about vanilla playmates. I would forgo any number of them for time at home with his most sadistic self. But he doesn’t seem to believe me. And perhaps rightly so… I am, after all, addicted to cock.

When we first met, one thing that made me hesitate most to give myself to him, was worry that I would not get to slut enough to be satisfied. Master made a promise to me, that I would still be used regularly and thoroughly, by many people. It has been my surprise and delight that he has kept his word. But even more surprising is that my frustration has taken the opposite form: being allowed to be a slut has made me miss out on what I want more.

I know I have blogged about this before. But my frustration rises and gets to me over time. I want to be hurt. I want to be flogged and bruised and welted and made to scream and cry. I want the sheer limits of my pain to be pushed and pushed until I fear I won’t survive. And I am forever postponed to avoid offending the sensibilities of new fucks my Master considers essential to his pleasure.

I am trying not to sound bitter, but probably not succeeding. There doesn’t seem much point in being apologetic about it. What I really want to say, when Master avoids marking me because of what others might think, is Fuck them. So what if they don’t feel ok about S&M? We don’t need prudes who want their sex all fluffy and friendly. They are boring and need to get over it. Let’s just stick to the kinky bastards, the ones who understand how to have real fun. Please, Sir….

But like I said, Master wants to fuck them. It doesn’t matter if they are vanilla as essence, he still wants to fuck them. I guess it seems that, when it comes down to it, Master preferences sex over kink, figuring there will always be time for more kink later. Whereas I preference kink any day, and feel that there will always be more sex around when you need it.

Patience, nadi… keep showing patience…

Thwarted

Master hates it when people don't follow through. Even if it is not personal, it is personal. Each message sent, each photo shared, is an investment of trust to the other person to keep their word. To not do so is a disrespect and a betrayal.

On the third day he was away, I opened the envelope containing my chores for the day and was stunned. He wanted me to make him a video - with others. In his absence. I must have re-read it more than ten times, just to make sure I hadn't misunderstood. Master never invites me to play without him, and never ever allows me the freedom to choose who I play with...

Well, there was a time... it seems like decades ago now. I once had some kind of choice. I remember reporting to him each time I was used, giving him the graphic details of my slut life without him. I remember him narrowing the scope of my choice, until I had limited range, and then nothing without his consent. And then I remember giving it up to him, promising him my whole self, freely giving my choice away. The thought of choosing whether someone can fuck me or not has become completely alien.

So at first, the task he had written for that day was barely comprehensible. I went about finding someone carefully, and settled on a couple who seemed sufficiently deviate but not too risky. And then, it was going to happen. They had agreed to everything, all that needed to happen was for me to give the ok for them to come over. And I just couldn't do it. Panic came over me. I couldn't just do this, I had to be sure I wasn't halucinating the whole thing. The consequences of mistakenly cheating my Master were too unthinkable!

I messaged him, asking for confirmation. I had to be sure I had his word. And to my relief, I did. So I said, okay. Come over, lets do this........

.......and they didn't turn up.

I sulked. I was angry and frustrated. And not because of any of the reasons above, and not because I had wanted my fun, either. I was furious that I had been so careful to be sure it was approved by my Master. I had fretted over it, and agonised over who he might want me to choose. I had finally felt sure this was what he wanted of me, and committed to it in my mind. And more than that, I had realised I was on the verge of completing the most difficult of all the tasks he had set me while he was away. I would score one hundred percent. I would not fail to please him. AND THOSE SELF-SERVING BASTARDS TOOK THAT AWAY.

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...

All in good time (not my time)

Sometimes, hidden in my jealousy is a kind of frustration. An "I-want" that I don't get. A fantasy of mine that is not yet fulfilled.

The latest two are local events I've been hearing about in my email inbox. One is an outdoor gangbang - something thats been circling my mind for the last few weeks... imagining myself spread out on a picnic table, wide out in the open, inviting anyone to play with me without speaking a word..... 'I want' it so bad..... but someone else is getting it soon, not me.

The other is a gangbang in bondage. This has been my fantasy as long as I can remember... and the first one Master spoke to me the first time he used me. To be restrained and helpless, and used over and over, nothing but a peice of slutmeat, degraded and abused.... that is a huge longing for me. And to make it even more frustrating, Master wants me to attend this one with him... making me watch as my fantasy is played out on someone else. I don't know what my role would be, but it won't be where I feel I belong. Sigh.

That is a lesson, I know. I don't choose where I belong, Master does. I am not there to get what I want, I am there to do as I'm told. And if I make it to this party, I will not behave as a jealous, selfish slut. I will be silent about my negative thoughts, and I will smile, and obey, and please. I will be restrained by my Master's wishes, made helpless by the futility of 'I want', and used as a good slave. It will be good for me.

The bigger picture, too, is a lesson. Patience. I can't have everything I want now. It takes time, and that is a good thing - if nadi's fantasies were all fulfilled on her own timetable, I'd have been bored long ago! Its also a lesson in gratitude. Master told me on the day I met him, that if I was his, my fantasies and more would be fulfilled. So far, he has absolutely kept his promise, and I should not forget that! Silly girl.

A week or so ago, I was tied up on his bed with my breasts bound and bulging, conductive pads stuck to my nipples, delivering a varied array of shocks through my skin. I had wanted to try electrical play for a very long time, and this was certainly a fantasy fulfilled. It was me lying there, pulling against the restraints, screaming against the duct tape, squirming and shaking, tortured and helpless. And grateful.

It is me who he has chosen to keep for this long. It is me who he has had gangbanged, not once, but many times.... it is me who he has used not just for himself, but for whomever he chooses.... me who he has whipped and pain-tested past the point where I was crying.... me who he has beaten, and pissed on, and abused, and cut, and suffocated, and so much more.... And most important, it is me who he has taken as his possession, invested his training, and made his own. I am far from neglected. I will remember that as I watch others have fantasies fulfilled, and remind myself to feel grateful that that I am my Master's slave.

Quick, call the paramedics...

...there is no question in my mind that I will resist for him, right up until he returns and grants permission, not a moment too soon...

I didn't.

But I didn't disobey him either.

In the 1800s, neurotic, over-emotional women were diagnosed with 'hysteria', and treated with the medical administration of a vibrator until they reached orgasm and were able to function rationally again. (Its true.) I wholeheartedly relate to this. I've blogged before about the state I end up in if I don't get fucked for too long. If I can't masturbate either, hysteria is a very accurate description for what happens to me.

Yesterday, less than 24 hours after my determined post, I lost control. I was screaming senselessly at Betty, who didn't know what to make of me, shaking, and crying uncontrollably for a good half hour. It came on out of the blue and took me a long while to figure out that my behaviour was not normal. I felt like the world was crashing down around me and couldn't understand why nobody could make sense of what I was saying. I felt victimised, attacked from all angles and unable to cope. It was an extreme reaction to nothing in particular.

When I eventually saw what was happening, I sent a message to Master, pleading with him. I explained my lack of success at orgasming when I was permitted to, and the ongoing teasing I'd been coping with for 3 days without release. I told him I wasn't coping, and that it was affecting my emotional state, and asked him to please consider allowing me just one self-induced orgasm...

... after assessing my progress on my other task, he must have been satisfied with my answer. He granted permission. Thank you, Sir.

Of course, I am already horny again. Masturbation is like that - it only satisfies for a very limited time compared to the real thing. Or maybe thats just for sluts like me. But I do feel a lot better, and its restored my confidence to last until he returns tomorrow night.

On the one hand, I want to think about seeing him, and look forward to it... but on the other, it starts to get me excited... and I don't want to be a wreck when I greet him...

There's no aphrodisiac like it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Training

Master has never once told me to be patient. There is no need - he can simply make me wait, forcing me to learn. I've become quite used to "not knowing" and rarely asking - because asking certainly does not mean I will get an answer.

When its just a matter of gratification for the sake of it, this is not a problem. It is not his job to gratify me. But occasionally, external circumstances can make it really darn hard to do things without being sure of his plans - and that's when "not knowing" really bites.

I was impatient last night, waiting for an answer from him about whether I would be able to see him, and not sure whether to prepare to leave or stay. I'd been arguing with Betty, and she had been indecisive all day, so it felt like I really needed something I could be sure about. I think he could tell thats what I was asking for, and probably made me wait for that reason. But I started to get frustrated. I can tolerate waiting when its only a matter of my comfort, but sometimes, when there are other things that hinge on his answer, it starts to seem like more than inconvenience. I start to feel as though trying to demand an answer from him would be almost justified. I get irritable and think, why can't he just tell me now?

It takes work to pull myself out of this selfish circle. Eventually I calm myself and accept it. The answer to the 'why' is so simple it makes the question obsolete: He will answer me when he chooses to, and not a minute sooner. Having what I feel to be 'good reasons' to get an answer right away doesn't change that fact. I can't push him to do anything according to my schedule - he simply won't allow me to. And that is so very right.

I apologise for my impatience, Sir. And thank you for not accepting my inappropriate behaviour.

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....

Catharsis, exposure, and a nice place to be

Today, on my way home from his house, I pulled over and screamed. LOUD. Then I sat and bawled my eyes dry, sobbing right from the gut, roaring, howling, holding nothing back. And as I gradually calmed, I found myself moaning, "please.... please, Sir...." and then finally finished the thought at a whisper, "....... please, hurt me...? "

We all need our coping strategies. And yes, there are "normal" things that I do to release my emotions in times of stress. This morning's outburst is a perfect example. I also swim, create photo-art (not always very well, but thats not the point), get massage... oh, and masturbate, lol. But there is absolutely nothing that matches being really hurt for effective stress management. But if I was to try that alone.... well...... lets not go there.

When I'm feeling the pressure of life, I spend more and more of my energy on control - trying to limit the things that stress me, and the effort it takes to control my reactiveness, to avoid expressing my feelings at the wrong place and time. I crave letting Master take away that control, giving my body up to him, and surrendering. The freedom of trust. And each strike is a chance to give up more - to shift my mind from trying to avoid painful sensation to saying "YES" until I am welcoming it... and when his pattern changes, the struggle of avoiding again.... then once again, welcoming.... Its a practice of submission, to him, but also to myself. Accept the pain and it no longer becomes a threat. Just as that applies physically, the same is true for emotional pain.

Being flogged is almost like psychodrama. Its taking whats going on internally and making it tangible, allowing me to choose how to respond to it. Don't avoid it, feel it. Accept it, then release it. Feel... accept... release... feel... accept... release... until it becomes my whole existence, and I've forgotten who I am... forgotten everything except feel-accept-release, and above all, the love and gratitude for Sir, who has become the Sun. Such perfect peace, as though I could just fade into transparency and slowly disappear. The word 'subspace' only cheapens it.

I don't want to give the wrong idea - I did enjoy my night with him last night. He put me on show performing at his instructions online. I do enjoy it when he shows me off. I love standing in the position he has placed me in while he runs a finger between my thighs and teases me, knowing that someone is watching, someone who knows he can do anything he likes with me.

He asked me at one point if it was the thought that the voyeur(s) might be aroused and excited watching me, that they might lust after me and want to use me, but its not really any of those things. What I love the most is the simple objectification of it. The fact that my Master has me on display, like.... well, like a possession, which is exactly what I am. Not that people are looking at me but that they can look at me. That I have no way of hiding, no dignity, am allowed no modesty, I am not a person but a human object. One of my biggest fantasies is to be tied up in some exposing position, and gagged, then left in the middle of a room while people socialise around me. They would talk, and drink... and make comments about me, tease me... but even more humiliating, they would also periodically ignore me.

He didn't let me orgasm until very late last night, so when I finally could, it seemed to go on forever. Face down, turning my head to the side, I could see his shape over me, feel the power as he pushed hard into me, and I felt small, and owned. Not quite the catharsis I've been pleading for, but a nice place to be.

I have so many worries right now, and I had planned to blog them, but now I feel like leaving it on a more positive note instead. Sometimes its all so hard. And yes, Sista, there is always a choice to make. But sometimes, even through the tough shit, the choice is so right that its already made before the question is asked - and then its easy to forget that there ever was one.

Umm, where was that positive note...? Really, all I'm trying to say is, I love my Master unconditionally. I have given myself to him - my body, my mind, my heart, my life. I have given up my freedom. I have given up my consent. I have no right to take anything back, and I would never want to. I am his, inside and out. Even when its so fucking hard... its still a nice place to be.

Pain slut vs plain slut

You wouldn’t think the two would have to be mutually exclusive, would you? In my mind, they certainly aren’t. Being flogged, spanked or caned, and getting passed around like a piece of meat, used, and taken for granted, seem to go together pretty well to me. But all too often, one of these delights has to be neglected for the sake of the other. And sometimes, it gets frustrating.

The problem is, all the best pain leaves marks on me. Hell, the marks are half the pleasure! And there just aren't enough people out there into sharing me with Master, who are comfortable with seeing my bruised, battered body. So, he prefers to leave the nasty stuff for times when he isn't planning to let me be a slut. And he loves seeing me be a slut.

It is really quite sensible of him to avoid freaking people out. But, dammit, I don't want to avoid it! I want to say, fuck 'em! Let's shock them! Flaunt my welts! Tell them how much I love it...... But thats just me being childish, really. I have this unfortunate tendency to want everything. Yes, I'm a greedy girl. I want to have my cake and eat it. Maybe thats what a real slut is, though? Never satisfied.

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...

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.

An open letter to Sir J

I regret ever asking permission to give you the address of this blog, but its just as well - I know you have never read it, and that tells me something important. The same thing it tells me to realise that, when you contact me, it is never to "catch up" but always because you want something. And that when we "talk", it is always about you.

You really know nothing about me, for someone that I have called a friend. The things you think you know say more about yourself than me. I used to try and convey to you the seriousness of my commitment to Master and the depth of my submission, but as much as you'd say you understand, it was always clear that not only do you understand nothing, but you don't even care to. Do you take nothing seriously that is not your own?

And what is your own, you take far too seriously. Your sub's behaviour is utterly reprehensible. As a sub, I am disgusted at her. And every time you say that she is still "the perfect submissive" its a slap in the face for me, for my Sista, and for any one of us with an ounce of loyalty. Your tolerance for it astonishes me... but then again, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. It was never easy to respect you as my Dom when it was so obvious that you were being played - I shouldn't have bothered, and thankfully I didn't for long. For an intelligent man, you are not very smart. Now I just thank my lucky stars to have found a Master who has more pride than that.... and who appreciates the qualities I have to offer.

Yes, I am angry - at your self-centredness, and lack of care to even pay the slightest attention to anything going on around you. But I am grateful for that in a way, too, so I can rest assured that you won't ever have the satisfaction of knowing..........................

Of course, I know the one I am most angry at is myself, for being stupid enough to be sucked in by your charm. For an intelligent woman, I am not always very smart. But unlike you, I know exactly what I've got, and what is worth holding on to.

Fucking patience!

I have the patience of a two-year-old sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. I've been carrying on a bit about missing Master and waiting to see him lately (and I don't just mean in this blog, I've been whingeing to him a lot, too.) The silly part is, I haven't really been seeing him much (if any) less than usual - its just that, he's recently been working less for a couple of months, and I kind of got used to spending more time with him than usual. Now going back to normal feels like a cruel deprivation.

Being aware that its all in my head doesn't make it any easier. As time goes by between meetings, I get more anxious over how long it will be before the next one. Its like a countdown to losing control. And when I reach desperation point, I get a little demanding. I know I'm getting near the edge of acceptable behaviour then. The naughty, I-want part of myself tries to push harder, and I really fight with myself to stop crossing over the line from persistent to insistent.

But I just want to see him. And touch him. And be with him. I miss him. And I love him. Not to mention that I'm so damned horny all the time. Fuck. Sometimes, I get angry and frustrated. Other times, I just get sad. Always, I am so grateful for every minute I get to be with him. Every morning I wake up and wonder if I will be lucky today.

What annoys me about the whole thing most of all, is the knowledge, deep down, that this is probably good for me. A while ago I asked, among other things, for help to think less selfishly, and I think this situation might provide that by sheer chance. What is the previous paragraph but a list of nagging "I-want"s? Its not about what I want. And right now thats just fine because I can't get what I want. If I can find a way to accept that, and wait patiently, I'll be doing much better. How to do that, though... thats another matter altogether...