Take it from me

Sixteen months ago when my Master first told me to blog, his instruction was that I should begin by writing about love. I was afraid then, and while I still am in some way, it is tempered by other things: most strongly the compulsion to please him. Some say that all emotions are made up of measures of fear and love.... that I'm not sure of, but I know that my feelings for Master can be summed up in that way. Fear, love, fear, love... fear of love... love of fear.... my most basic and most passionate self has its time through him.

I have learned to love him with a great deal more abandon since then - but by that I don't mean any degree of romanticism. It still amazes me that some people can remain, persistently, drawn to love as a cure.... as a resolution.... as a faith...
Love does not overcome. It does not give any more than it takes. Love is not an ideal of joy - it is an ideal of power.

The love I feel comes with a sense of sorrow, of liberation, and of death. It is utterly disempowering, an emotional sacrifice. It is no less consuming than it was sixteen months ago - what has fallen away is doubt.

Because it is beautiful in its pain. Owing to it. Those who only see beauty in the benign aesthetic are losing out - only half living. Incredible bliss lies in our most agonising emotions - because they contain so much life. Living - really living - is not about the accumulation of happiness and avoidance of suffering..... it is immersing oneself in both.

I am emotionally masochistic. I can take measures of sadness, and hurt, and guilt, and shame, in the same way that I do the strokes of a hand, a whip, or a knife - the goal being to surpass my resistance, embrace the feelings, and accept the bliss that is pain.

The shame when my Master is disappointed. The bitterness of his care for others. The hurt of believing that he does not love me. The horror of inevitable loss. These things are the grief that is love.

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.

Can the unowned choose their owner?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

Nothing else to give

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

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

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

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

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

Truth takes you by surprise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Answer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

Use me

When I was 17 years old, the guy I was dating told me he loved me. It really pissed me off. He was 9 years older than me, and the major reason I was seeing him was precisely to avoid that sort of extraneous involvement. It was suppposed to be just sex. I didn't want all that other stuff along with it, not from him.

I felt annoyed. I asked, "why did you say that?" He responded "I just want you to know I'm not using you." Yes, he was. And thats exactly why I was enjoying myself. But what was I supposed to say? "Using" was supposed to be something bad. I was still too young to admit I wanted "bad" things. I had to grudgingly accept his romantic declarations and pretend I wanted them. But I was disappointed.

And I still have that disappointment on a regular basis. Some men just can't get past their feelings of obligation to give a woman something 'nice'. Even when they know I'm an owned slut, they still try and treat me to something. They still look at my face to check whether I'm having a good time. Why can't I just be used?

I guess that's why Master is teaching me to be more vocal about my depravities - telling me he wants me to be just as disgustingly honest with others as I am with him, when asked to say what I am, and what I like. I know he enjoys watching me lose my inhibitions... perhaps if I can give them inspiration, others can lose theirs and use me more freely?

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.

Dance with the devil... :)

Its been one of those porn-watching days today - loads of it! I'm a girl who likes to store it for a rainy day instead of checking it out immediately. I just stash it away for months and then, when I'm suddenly feeling up for it, I'll go a whole day where all I do is go through and see what treasures I've accumulated. And there is some pretty nasty stuff that Master will just love :) But thats not the subject of this post.....

Just now I was watching this clip that started with no beating around the bush (and I love beating bush, but its not that kind of vid...) a guy on his back, with a woman riding him furiously. You could see she was enjoying herself. Then a second guy came up so she could suck his cock, and for a moment everyone was enjoying themselves. But then I found myself thinking... hang on a minute, she's not putting much effort in there.... she's barely trying to suck him at all.... doesn't she want to make sure he enjoys himself....? oh my god, now she's stopped sucking altogether while she orgasms - she's putting her pleasure ahead of his! ....why doesn't he slap her and shove that cock back into her mouth and remind her what she is there for????

And thats when I thought, um.... just a sec, that isn't me.... some women are meant to fuck for their own enjoyment, aren't they? Oops...

Sometimes I still surprise myself with how much I've changed, and it makes me smile. Concepts that seemed alien to me a year ago now seem totally natural - to the point where, I see a woman getting fucked, and my assumption is that she is being used for the man's pleasure and may or may not be allowed her own. Or the other day, I said to Sir, that I felt angry at the idea of anyone suggesting they would like to use me without his consent. Not being free to fuck alone was something I was still learning to accept when I started this blog, and now I don't even question that I am his property - and it makes me mad when someone else dares think otherwise.

Master's control over me is even evident in my dreams. I am a slut by anyone's definition, and I have a lot of fantasies and dreams. Now I don't have either without somehow incorporating Master's permission into it. There were a few times when I woke up from a sex dream in a panic, thinking I'd just disobeyed him, before I realised it wasn't real. And the other night, I couldn't even participate in my own dream! I just watched other people doing it, thinking, I have to wait for permission...

I used to think training was what happened in between play - a specified time and place where a sub is explicitly taught to please their owner. Now I know that's how crappy training is done. Quality training is done all the time, during every interaction, even simple conversation. You don't even realise its happening, except in hindsight. Thats the learning that sinks in, and changes who you are.

Wow, I am lucky :)

Come as you are

I can't believe I didn't blog about this – it's such an achievement! I guess at the time my focus was more on other things: Master was about to go away for a week, and his last night with me before he left I was feeling typically emotional. I was anticipating the agony of missing him, and sad because he was so busy with preparations he had little time for me that night. OK, I'll be honest – I'd tried not to get my hopes up, but I kept thinking it would be the perfect time for him to mark me before he went – all that healing time with no-one to be offended by it. I knew it was unlikely, as he had so much to do, but a part of me was still childishly disappointed.

He joined me in bed, and was so tired, he didn't even make a move to use me. That made me even sadder, until I gained the courage to tell him how I felt. Once it was out, I could relax more, and I reminded myself of the good points: yes, he was busy and tired on his last night before his trip, but what an honour that he still wanted me there with him, not to be used, but to serve him and cuddle up to him at night. I started to feel much happier just to be allowed to be near him. I wanted to express that, so I started gently touching him. He became aroused, so I thought, why not? And quietly asked permission to suck his cock. He allowed me to, and I savoured it – my last taste of my Master for a week to come. I wanted it ingrained in my mind. I tried to put love into it, and I found myself hoping he wouldn't fuck me – just cum down my throat and leave my cunt aching for his return.

That's when I made my big achievement. I was totally absorbed in him, sucking, and I hadn't been touched all night. And he ordered me to come. I thought for half a second, "can I?" and then tightened my muscles, and I did. A few moments later he ordered it a second time, and I succeeded even easier, and orgasmed even stronger. No stimulation except the desire to please him, and the order given. I was so focussed, I barely recognised what I'd done.

He did fuck me, by the way, and then half-smiled and said "You're a spoiled bitch, aren't you?" :)

The first time I met my Master, he told me I would learn to give him control over my pleasure. He allowed me to orgasm freely that day, but was very clear about future meetings: "After today, you will not come without permission in my presence again." And although sometimes its been a struggle, I never have. But the other side to that promise was something that seemed daunting to me – he said he would train me to orgasm on his command, not just when being used, but from pain, and eventually, only from his order.

I wasn't sure it was possible, but I hoped not to disappoint him. The first orgasm I successfully had from pain alone was incredibly intense and surprisingly easy to attain. But that was heavy stimulation, and I still wasn't sure I could come from none at all. Then, two weeks ago, I did. Simply from the sound of Master telling me to.

The next day, I was driving and feeling very horny. I remembered his voice demanding me to "come" and to my surprise, I did, alone in my car, instantly. I have again, sitting here writing this, just to test myself. Success. My body has been trained – all it takes is his order, or merely imagining his order, and I can orgasm immediately. He owns my orgasms.

Let me be honest, the sensation itself is no replacement for being filled and fucked. But being able to do this is its own kind of bliss – the pleasure and pride in knowing that it is not just my conscious behaviour that he has taken control of, but some of my most basic, automatic physiological responses. Its like my body knows it belongs to him.

A warm shower

I'm embarassed to say it, but I have a shy bladder. There's no point hiding, it became obvious months ago when I went into Master's bathroom while a guest was at the sink, and I just couldn't go.

It started a few years ago when I realised that, at work, if my boss walked into the toilets after me, I had to wait until she was gone before I could urinate. It wasn't a problem if it was anyone else in the cubicle next to me, only the manager. It was the power difference that made me too tense. I would try closing my eyes, counting backwards from one hundred, even just pressing on my bladder as hard as I could, but no matter how full, not a drop would come out. Eventually I would hear her shoes tapping their way across the tiles, and the instant the door closed behind her: relief.

At the time I thought it was embarassing but kind of amusing. Now its a real dilemma. Master wants me to learn to piss at his command - and if there was a gap of power between me and my ex-boss, there's light years between Master and I. I genuinely want to be able to do it - there are so many ways he can use it to humiliate me if I am able to wet myself for him. Not to mention the principle of it: I have no right to keep anything private from him, body functions included. I want to comply, so why can't I get my body to cooperate?

I got to his house last night really needing to go. I had even considered pulling over on the side of the road on the way there, thats how badly I had to piss. (Which is another interesting question, why can I go in a public place, in the open air, with the risk of being seen, but not in a private room if Master is there?) So I got to his house, stripped as usual, and asked permission to use the toilet. Instead, he took me to the shower, made me squat, and stood there watching. And of course, I couldn't do it.

In the end, it was him who pissed - sprayed it over my body, then made me kneel in it and lick some of it up. One day, I'll be able to drink it straight from his body without gagging. Why? To please him. His toilet slave.

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.

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.

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.

Yours

The first time I was allowed to see Master after disappointing him was the most dedicated to his pleasure above my own that I've ever been. I know it should be that way all the time, and I try, I really do, but having an ideal in mind doesn't always make it a reality. It seems terrible that it has taken such a serious mistake on my part to bring me more fully into submission, and I'm certainly not glad I did what I did. But if I can maintain this level of devotion and use it to give even more to him in future, then maybe one day, I may be able to make up for my careless behaviour.... at least partly...

Again last night, I felt a complete lack of concern for my own pleasure. It was one of those times when I am lucky enough for him to choose to give me something he knows I will very much enjoy, and even let me ask for some of what I want. I am by no means forgiven yet, that I understand, but last night was like a sort of brief respite from my penance of the last week or so. And still, despite thoroughly enjoying myself and having permission to think of my own wants to some extent, they again took third place far, far behind his enjoyment and that of his invited guest.

Its a hot, ecstatic, and very familiar feeling to be used without having a choice in what is done with me. But its a far rarer experience of peace and contentment to simply serve, of my own choice, existing only for another's needs. I couldn't choose between the two sensations, and thats just as well, as I have no doubt Master prefers to use me in both these ways.

Sometimes when I am with him, and he is concentrating on something else, so unlikely to ask why I am staring at him (lol), I scan my eyes over him as if he is a stranger - looking with fresh eyes and taking in what I see in front of me with little regard to the experiences he has given me. I see a man a certain number of years my senior, with a strong stance, and perhaps a serious look, or a smile. And then, when I've created this image of an ordinary man, I think to myself, see that man? He OWNS you, nadi. You are the property of this man in front of you. It never fails to amaze me that it is true - and fills me with warm longing to surrender my will and please him, at any cost.

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...

Try anything twice

Its a simple but clever trick: get me horny and wet (no challenge so far), take me close to orgasm but don't let me reach it, and then give me a suggestion, and I will want to do it. Anything at all, even things that I'd find shocking or repulsive when I'm, say, doing my grocery shopping. I've lost count of how many times I've come home after seeing Master and found myself thinking I can't believe I said I wanted to do that - and not just that I would if I had to, but that I really want to. And the desire doesn't completely dissipate, either - things I'd initially file under please-don't-make-me, go to yes-please-let-me while I'm in 'the zone', and then after the high wears off, they end up somewhere around not-my-favourite-but-ok.

Take me there often enough, and the idea ends up permanently promoted to yes-please. I can think of a lot of things I would have been horrified at, or at least very cautious about, before I met Master, that are now, thanks to his manipulation, my most desired goals, or savoured among my favourite things to do. Things like lengthy asphyxiation, knife play, toilet play, and other things he prefers me not to talk about. I never would have done these things a year ago. And I'm not complaining - its great! One of the main things I was looking for when I met him was someone who could help me explore, and as much as possible eliminate, my limits. Its just turned out to be much more possible than I had anticipated.

I suspect I could write a book on "what subbing has taught me about life" already (and I am by no means notably experienced at it). One of the big themes would be that you really never know what you are capable of doing, and capable of enjoying. Even if you have tried it, there is nothing to say it wouldn't be a vastly different experience under new circumstances. Never rule anything out. Ever.

Strength

I had a job interview today, and just prior, everything that could go wrong went absolutely wrong. I reached the interview location with 10 minutes to spare, but with my stress levels at a maximum. I wasn't ready for this. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I knew I had to think positive, confident thoughts, and fast. What came instinctively to mind was a memory - Master's voice, after crossing a boundary with me, taking me past an unwanted limit: "Look what you just did. If you can do that, you can do anything, babe." It came to me so clear and real for a second I was convinced I could smell him. I can't even remember now what it was he said that in reference to, but I remember him saying it like he is still there lying on me, holding my gaze and repeating "You can do anything."

At the time I didn't think it sunk in the way it should have - a part of my mind resisted the words and I struggled to accept them. But today they came to the front of my mind like a natural certainty, and I believed it. If I can give myself to him, relinquishing my body, pledging him my mind, promising him my heart and all my love, freely offering the ability to harm me, literally, happily putting my life in his hands... then what else in life is there to be afraid of?

Some things I think I understand, then one day they really do fall into place, and I realise that all that time I thought I knew, I really had no idea at all. I thought I knew that submission gives me strength. But today, for the first time, I know that belonging to Master... GIVES ME STRENGTH.

A lesson

It is a rare experience for me to be punished by my Master. But last night was such an occasion, and rightly so - I had been very thoughtless. It was a brief lapse of obedience, but a significant one, and I am disappointed in myself.

He made sure I understood what I had done, in a most creative fashion, saying he wanted to be sure I would remember the lesson, in a way that a traditional flogging could not ensure. Probably wise, among other reasons because I have asked for some pain recently, so that would have been too much like a reward. As it was, I can't deny that I did get some pleasure from being punished, as he was well aware. Don't misunderstand: it was unpleasant, and I felt dirty and ashamed at having disappointed him. But I also knew it was deserved, and for that I wanted it. And a part of me felt aroused and satisfied at being reminded of my place. There is a definite comfort that I take from being disciplined: the fact that he bothers to correct me, putting thought into making sure I learn, assures me that I am valued by him. I feel secure to know that he considers me worthy of being taught to avoid future mistakes.

I certainly didn't screw up intentionally, and I would be disgusted with myself if I ever did. His disappointment is not worth it, and I know that if I ever feel the need for a reminder, or a physical act of discipline, I need not misbehave, only ask. If I deserve a reward, I will receive it.