Resurrection

Okay. It's time to confess.

I thought it was over.

Almost three years ago I told Blknight that I thought Master and I had no future together. Our lifestyle committments were just too conflicting. And as recently as 24 hours ago, I thought that, plus my own failings, had finally gotten the better of us.

At one point along the way I had a fairytale in my head. I was doing so well, that I became far too confident. I took to my training well. I was pleasing my Master and making him proud. I was learning so fast, and making so few mistakes, that I thought I could be his perfect slave. It was only a matter of time, I imagined, until he would find me deserving. He would give me a collar, and I would know that I was Good Enough.

Over time, reality replaced the fantasy. I am not, nor will I ever be, perfect. I cannot take Master's pride for granted. At times, I disappoint him horribly. And I can work as hard as I like, but it doesn't mean I will earn anything. Often, just being adequate is hard enough. So of course, I have ended up doubting myself. Often, I have feared being replaced. Some days, I have convinced myself I am worthless.

So last weekend, when Master said he had given up, I thought he had given up on me. I know its not what he said - he was referring to scheduling... to problems with meeting people for play. But that doesn't stop my mind hearing it differently, and this time I heard the end. So 24 hours ago, when I knew in my gut, that him not answering my message meant he was fucking another slut, I felt sure I knew what would happen. All it would take was for him to find an adequate slut with fewer committments than me. And then she would take my place, become his number one, and I would be nothing.

But then he ordered me over to taste her residue on his cock. He had me wear her damp lace panties and inhale her scent from his sheets. He fucked me while he made me listen - desperate, struggling, and wet - to the details of his pleasure with her. He tied my hands and attached the TENS to my tits, and my cunt, and he gave me my Reminder Lesson. You are my slut, my hole, my slave. You are not free.

Amazing how my confidence can be restored - by having the woman I am jealous of almost literally shoved in my face... by having the Master I am afraid of losing, remind me how insignificant I am... because it means it is possible for me to keep my place. If I work hard enough.

Weighing Love

Master asked me the other night, if I thought that perhaps loving him might be unfavourable. I was surprised at the question, firstly because he so rarely mentions such thoughts to me. While I know very well that he thinks carefully about my role and training, it is always a surprise when he shares any inkling of his contemplations. I guess that in itself is a reason why I feel compelled to be sure I answer him fully and clearly when he does.

He had just finished using me – but not before telling me how much he had enjoyed another female sub the night before. I had been afraid, and when he confirmed my anxiety, I burst into tears. His question came later. I had truly never thought of it in this way before – that loving him might not be beneficial, not only because it can be painful, but specifically because of my insecurity about his enjoyment of other women.

I think part of the reason the idea is new to me is simple defense. I need to feel that loving him is worthwhile. Because it has caused me so much grief, I simply cannot question it. Reasons why it might not be perfect do not come anywhere near as easily to me as reasons why it is good and right.

Firstly, it gives him greater power, and thereby ensures my obedience. To disobey or disrespect him carries not only the risk of punishment and pain, but far greater than that: the fear of real loss. Loss of his approval, loss of his desire, and most of all, loss of his presence. All of that has meaning because I love him.

And the flipside of that is his approval and praise has real value to me. I am increasingly motivated to please him each time he tells me I have done well. His smile, an affectionate touch, or a rare kiss is an invaluable incentive because of my love. He could give me any number of cocks or orgasms, but the greater reward is always him showing pleasure in me. I doubt his approval would have such significance if I did not truly adore him.

Thirdly, loving him gives me great loyalty. I am naturally a loyal person, but for love, my faithfulness is fierce. And it needs to be, for a slut such as myself not to sleep around, or even touch myself without his knowledge. Temptation is enormous. I know full well that without love to keep me on track, I do give in.

And perhaps biggest of all, is that love compels me to self-sacrifice. The moments when I am overcome with the sheer rolling current of passion and adoration for him, I want most desperately to prove the depth of my emotion by giving him all I can. I know there is simply no way I could promise so much to him without being driven by love.

So loving him is a good thing, an important thing. And I feel like I want to stop there, not think more on the subject at all. But that would not be answering the question that Sir posed to me.

I love him. And when he likes someone else, it withers me. But I think the real reason for that is not my love, not directly. It is fear – that I cannot be loved.

……..

For two days this blog has been sitting here, incomplete. How do I finish this? How do I explain? I am so afraid…

Perhaps by saying again, that I do not expect my Master to love me. It is right that I offer him my heart without return.

… but I need to please him. I need to earn his approval, his pride. I need to feel that I am good enough, in some way. I need to make him smile. Because it makes me worth something.

And what if I don’t make him smile? And what if someone else does? I have no place, then. I am nobody. If I do not deserve his pleasure, I deserve nothing at all.

I know it’s not the slightest bit rational. I know Master has plenty of enjoyment to go around. Someone else pleasing him does not make me please him any less. But I fear I already please him less, that I’m just not good enough to please him more. So others are terrifying, not because I feel they lessen me, but because I already doubt what I deserve.

As I write this, it occurs to me that there is one real measure of what I deserve: what my Master chooses to give me. I should have faith in his appraisal. It is far more trustworthy than mine.

Passer Pipiabat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe I don’t…?

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

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

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.

A chosen sista...?

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

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

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

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

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

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...

Venus and Psyche

Women are incredible things. Men are fantastic, and I couldn't live without being regularly fucked. But a woman is a whole other world for the senses. Their beautiful smooth lines inspire my sense of creativity and exploration - I can lose myself in the curves and experience a woman's body from the outside as if it were my own. I can enjoy caressing a man with my hands, mouth, and breasts, but the shape of a woman just cries out to be touched that way. My first (and only real) girlfriend put it best when she said to me once that I reminded her of dunes - white, smooth, warm as if from the sun, and the heightened arousal one feels when running fingers through fine sand.

Sex with a woman makes me want to give. I feel delighted and honoured each time I am allowed to touch, and taste, the most intimate crevasses of the female body. And one of life's great joys is to feel a woman's orgasm pulse through her as she presses toward you, until her eyes fall on you and you know she has been satisfied.

I think I've mentioned that I thought I was a lesbian once, haven't I? Lol...

Betty said to me when she saw me this morning: "You're glowing." She seemed uncertain whether to ask why, or if she wouldn't want to know the answer. I couldn't help telling her over breakfast, that I'd had a wonderful night when Master invited a woman over and allowed me to share her. It was her first time, she'd said, which made my enjoyment even greater - to give her a new and very pleasurable experience.

There was also another side to it, though. I've written quite a bit about jealousy lately, because its something I'm experiencing in a whole new way. It seems that the more my heart belongs to my Master, the more jealous I feel... and the more I let myself feel the jealousy, the more I belong to him. He liked our female guest last night as much as I did. And every time he complimented her, I compared her to me. And however he fucked her, I compared it to the way he fucks me. There was one point when I moved down the bed in order to get a better position to taste her, and Master intercepted me, fucking her from the side, leaving me out of the equation. I felt dejected for a moment, then realised I had a choice. I could be selfish and sulk in my jealousy. Or, I could submit to the feeling and please my Master. So, I put my insecurity aside and went down to lick his arse, balls and shaft, trying to ensure that fucking her would be as pleasurable for him as possible. Soon I licked at both of them together as they fucked, helping them enjoy each other.

A small act, but with significant intentions. Jealousy served to remind me of the rule Master set the first time I came to his house: my role is to please him. After that, to please his guests. And only after that, if I have permission, may I please myself.

Multiform artistry

One of my biggest fantasies for the last ten years or so is to be painted. It started when my ex bought home a calender of nude models wearing nothing but body paint. I eagerly studied those images, looking at the tiny creases and strokes, and longed to be under the brush. I imagine standing or lying perfectly still, as unable to move as if I were bound, every tiny detail of my body potentially under scrutiny if the artist should choose to paint there... and then the soft strokes of the brush so slowly exploring my skin, the cool damp feel of the paint changing to a stiff coating and tingling as it dries.... feeling exposed, examined, vulnerable, and then lovingly caressed, contained, embraced, accepted... and then afterwards, when the whole experience is over, the exquisite high of feeling that I have become not a mere person, but a work of art - objectified, not into degradation, but into a thing of beauty...

Sensuality does not rate highly in my fantasies, but to be painted - that is the biggest of only a handful of exceptions. When I found out that Master, too, has a love of body painting and a desire to try it, I was over the moon! And then I came crashing down when he told me he had found a woman with an artistic streak to "practice on"... while I entertain her husband. This was a while ago now, and so far none of these plans have come to fruition, but it still torments me. I still mentally squirm at the thought of him doing something so precious to me with someone else, while I am given the humiliating task of keeping the man "occupied" and pretending to be happy. Imagining it brings up an emotional tension within me: between hurt, jealousy, and anger on the one hand, and on the other, submission, humiliation, and dismayed arousal.

So, why bring it up now? .....ever had a lucid dream? Its a nice experience, to be just asleep enough to dream, but just awake enough to know it's not real, and sometimes, to have some control over what happens. I think it was him referring to me recently (in a very different context) as a "canvas" that made me dream of the body painting scenario this morning. I knew it was just a dream and so I could relax and explore the experience of it, without that sickening "squirming" feeling... well, not so much, anyway.

It took place at his house, and I was waiting there naked until the couple arrived. I offered them both a drink while trying not to look at or hate her. I somehow managed to look at her husband without taking any notice of him at all - he was irrelevant, just another task for me to do in Master's house, like assembling furniture. Master and the woman went to his bedroom. And closed the door. I talked, I flirted, I entertained, I smiled, I was groped, fucked in every hole, used, and it was joyless. I had permission to cum only if I was thinking of what Master was doing with the woman in the other room, and I did that obediently, with a cry that was less pleasure than agony. My eyes focussed on the man I was with, but only to please Master. I cared nothing about this man at all, internally I was standing at that closed door, waiting for Sir.

The dream ended with me waiting, wondering how long it would be. And I woke predictably and despondently wet. I waited a while, thinking back over it, then touched myself imagining I was there. I took my new vibrator, which coincidentally, I realised later, is also called a "Lucid Dream", and brought myself to orgasm almost unwillingly, thinking horrible, agonising, jealous thoughts. And just as I cried out, my phone buzzed with a message from Master. Does this count as synchronicity?

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.

The green-eyed sub

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

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

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