.... and it doesn't stop there

I was on my back, my arms spread wide and tied to the bedposts, almost hyperventilating with nerves. Master had just played back his recording of what I'd said to him: "Please, would you shit in my mouth, Sir?" The recording meant even more than the act – he had my plea, my longing, and there was no taking it back. A part of me tried to believe he wouldn't really do it… reaching for denial. But I needed to ask for it, the time was right. I opened my mouth and shut my eyes, and my mind was crowded with thoughts that came down to "YES/NO". Trying not to move. Putting all my will towards keeping my mouth open. Not failing him. Oh god, this is disgusting….

… and next thing I know, there is something in my mouth, and I gasp with shock so hard that for a second I am choking on it. It momentarily occurs to me how utterly absurd it would be to die now, choking on my Master's shit while he shifts position to fuck me, and then it dislodges and I can breathe again, but fuck its still in my mouth, and I can't move my hands and I can't sit up and I can't get it out of there…. And Master tells me to come, and I try, I really try, but for the first time since I've known him I simply can't… it's too shocking…

… But he was so pleased with me. I have never seen him smile so proudly. It was horrible, and I did it, and I would do it again for him. No matter what. Because I have proven it – I have no limits for my Master. He smiled and said to me later, "Now you have reached the point where you are really of use to me," and I felt elated… finally, two years of training and I know I have really become something he truly wants… something he would not throw away.

"Yes please, Sir."

"Would you like to be whipped until you bleed?"
"Yes please, Sir."
"Would you like me to shit on you?"
"Yes please, Sir."
"Shall I fill your cunt with hot melted wax?"
"Yes please, Sir."
"Should I dump you naked in a group of drunks to be raped?"
"Yes please, Sir."

It's a powerful experience, to say those words: yes, please - to something a big part of me finds unthinkable. But I can't answer any other way, even if I try. Recently Sir asked me something I felt so horrified by that I did say "No, thank you Sir." .... but then I paused.... and retracted it with a "yes, please". When he asked why the quick change of heart, I answered truthfully - that I'd heard the no come out of my mouth, and felt disappointed. I couldn't stand to hear myself limit my desire. The high that comes with saying "yes" to anything at all, is enough to make me give up all my defenses.

For a long time, it has been a relief to be permitted no limits - to know my Master may do what he likes no matter what I say. It absolves me of choice, and thus responsibility. But it seems that is no longer enough. It seems that not only do I want to give up my control over what happens, and not just embrace and accept anything he decides... but I want to ask for anything he might consider entertaining, or that might prove my complete submission to him.

Sometimes I wish he didn't ask me so often. I want to be led, taken, and forced without even the opportunity to say no. But Master asks, even though his choices have little to do with my answer. I guess as much as he enjoys the thrill of force just as I do, my Master wants to know what I'm feeling - and he wants not just a slave, but a willing one. Or maybe he just finds it entertaining to hear me ask for it. *smiles*

Last night was a case in point. He was taking a jar of Tiger Balm, and smearing the contents onto my nipples, over my pussy, and shoving it inside my cunt and arse. Each time he asked if I wanted more, I hesitated, and asked myself, could I really stand that burning sensation engulfing me, to intensify again? And then I would realise that, pain aside, I couldn't stand the thought of saying no. Each time I momentarily feared the knowledge that once the balm was added, there was no escaping it - and then that was exactly what I loved the most once it was there. I was under him, swinging like a pendulum from yes to no...
.... and there have been far worse things...

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It has been a disappointingly long time since I've blogged. I know Master is unhappy about that, and I am grateful to him for allowing my block to take its course. There are many reasons, and "worse things" is one of them... as the exploration of the depths of my submission to him becomes more extreme, there are more and more things I just can't write about. And that makes me feel despondent. When I started this blog I felt inspired by the freedom it brought - to express what was in my mind freely and openly, without constraint. As much as I longed to share it, I also appreciated Master's choice to limit the blog's audience - it allowed me to be much more honest to bare all without fear. And now the things I want to write most - the powerful, most meaningful things - I must censor. It is a struggle to write at all when no matter what goes down on the page, I really want to say something else.... and all I end up with is a bunch of fragments.

There are other reasons, too, but I don't want this to degenerate to a list of excuses. I still don't know how to overcome it. All I can say is that, my lack of words has certainly not been caused by a lack of inspiration.

Thank you, Sir.

The last limit

There is one last taboo left in nadi's mind that has not yet been transgressed. One thing that still makes me want to say "please not that, Sir..." (but I wouldn't dare). One thing I have never done, and a big part of me would prefer was left that way.

But the problem with that is, I would stay limited. My goal has always been to break the boundaries - to transcend myself. The one thing I was most desperate for, that Master gave me, was to have my limits stretched - to face them, and then to erase them. To become completely free of my own fears and embrace obedience without hesitation. Even I am stunned at how much I can do now. But this one thing sticks that still makes me struggle....

Of course, Master owns me and has the right to do what he likes - I may not refuse his wishes. So if he orders me to lie still and keep my mouth open wide while he kneels above me preparing to fill it with his waste, I will do that. And I did - with tears running down my face, my shoulders trembling, and mentally pleading, please don't.... And he didn't. This time.

Because that would miss the point. Forcing me to do something I truly find shocking doesn't push me far enough - it lets me off too easily. It would allow me to comfort myself with the knowledge that it was not my chioce. No, to truly become limitless, the dirtiest slut I can be, I will have to ask for it. And I suspect it won't be given until I mean it.

I know I will ask for it, as does Master. Because its my final frontier - the last line I need to cross to be all I can be. It repulses me, and disturbs me. But the promise of defying the last limit is within reach, tantalising me, and Master knows me well enough to be sure that I can't resist a temptation like that forever. I didn't get into BDSM to be inhibited.

Promises, promises

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

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

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

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

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

The important bits are always in the silence

When I started to blog tonight, all I was thinking was "look what I did today!" I have been feeling quite pleased with myself, wanting to show off. Then chatting to Sista, she pointed out one of the nicer pleasures of the experience, and I started to think, how nice it is to have someone else with rights over my body.

Two weeks ago when Master granted permission, it felt good, not just because he said yes, but because it was his decision to make. It feels somehow warm and safe to be subject to another's opinion... forgoing the final responsibility, and pleasing him in some way via my appearance.

Even better than that is the thought of him deciding to change me for himself - without my request. Perhaps a change in my body to make me more attractive to him... or something functional, to increase his pleasure... or best of all, something that labels me as his, or simply marks my submission. Anything he chose to do to me, I would thank him for it.

I haven't blogged for a long time, though I have wanted to. I have wanted to blog about the limitlessness of Master's power over me... the things he can teach me, the things he can do to me... and the paradoxical sense of security it leaves me with, knowing the possibilities... and some of the realities.......... But there are some things I just can't write - and for good reasons. It makes me sad. I want to share my gratitude, but I can't - because people wouldn't understand. So I've been kind of stuck.

So now, I'm trying to compromise with myself, by instead, writing about the delightful pain of having my nipples pierced, and the delightful pleasure of knowing they are Master's nipples, and the hope that he will like them that way. Just as there is so much here that must be left unsaid, there is so much of his will that remains undone. And the potential positively looms...

The reason I wouldn't tell Betty about

Being owned fulfills me, it makes me happy. It makes me feel liberated of myself, and of my life. It makes me feel natural, content, and like I am truly me. But there's one other reason I am made for this, one thats a little disturbing: I would be unsafe without it.

I am made to be used. I invite it, explicitly and through my behaviour. And before I met Master, I got exactly what I was asking for. No control, no boundaries. Anything. Anyone's. Show me something dirty, tell me something seductive, touch me, grab me, hurt me, and I lose my limits, become open, malleable, thirsty... a slave to my own cunt.

But we all need a measure of control. Where would I be now if allowed my freedom? Would I be dead? I am sure I would have at least come close. Belonging to someone protects me. It seems scary that it should be necessary that I am owned to have a degree of control, but I have to be honest about it. I have never had much of a care to look after myself, except for someone else.

When Betty found out I was his slave she was worried for my safety. I knew she would be even more afraid if I told her that I was more at risk without him. Master gives me boundaries, and keeps me safe. And it feels good, to be looked after with limits, rules and discipline, as well as with warmth and affection, like a parent looks after a child.

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.