Despunked

i look at these old posts and i have to shake my head. Comparing what i've become to where i was is like comparing the kiddie pool to the deep end. i know i was trying back then (very trying if you asked M), but there was something i just wasn't getting.

The year 2011 has been completely different for us so far than the previous years. The year started with the cementing of our relationship, or perhaps nailing the lid on the coffin of my freedom. We hit the point of no return, and with it came a change in my way of thinking. i can even remember when it happened. i had a choice that day - to go the same direction i had always gone and continue to be argumentative, resistant, and generally make both of our lives a miserable struggle - or to choose another path, one in which i genuinely tried to make this life that we want work. That day, i accepted the responsibility for my own part in our happiness. And it has changed everything.

My life is now much more regimented than it has ever been before. And each and every rule comes with a consequence for non-compliance. i've somehow gone from "i wonder if M will make me" to "what would M want me to do?" Even things that He hasn't set down rules for, i now stop and consider how He would want me to approach it. i used to roll my eyes and think 'those types are just lemmings', and now i've become one. And i couldn't be happier! Being His pet has never been more demanding of me, and somehow, i can't help but hunger for more.

The Tide Comes In

my relationship with M has always had the ebb and flow of an ocean tide. Because of our busy lives, there are times when He demands more of me and others when He backs off and gives me more lead. It can be both comforting and frustrating, but for me, it just is the way He has decided that things need to go at this point in our life. His rules usually have an air of necessity to them, an answer to a problem in our lives. They have always been reasonable, reliable, almost common sense. He has always had the last say in everything, but His tendency is to use it judiciously.

This week, the tide came crashing in. i didn't expect it to strike me so profoundly. If it had been anyone else, i would have dubbed them a callous ass, but not M. With Him, it just leaves me panting and begging for more.

He told me Thursday that it would be happening and i just nodded, figuring He would forget and it would be one of those things that sounded better than it actually was in practice. He was going to limit my meals. His reasons are completely selfish - when i eat til i'm full, it inhibits His use of me. And that's unacceptable.

Up to this point, M had always come down on the side of feeding me more. my response to stress is to stop eating, so He's made it requisite to eat at least 3 meals a day, and that rule hasn't changed. But as i was making and serving up breakfast, He told me that i was to give myself half portions. i was a little dubious, thinking i would still be starving by the end of the meal. He was considerate enough to inquire. i wasn't hungry, but neither was i full. Good, He determined.

He allowed a snack a few hours later. After i'd had a handful and as i was still nibbling, He stopped me while He continued eating. At lunch, He told me to cut my potato in half and save the rest. By dinner, i was already anticipating this order and served myself dinner on a smaller plate with full servings of vegetables, but half servings of the meat and carbs. M approved.

It was just before bedtime that something interesting happened. i was up several hours later than He normally allows and i'd had the chance to grow hungry again. i asked for cookies. He declined. Then, out of spite, He opened the box and began eating the cookies i'd requested. i drooled. Spontaneously, i reached up and took the cookies out of His hand and began feeding them to Him. my body responded. my tummy growled ferociously and my nether-parts drooled at the turn. He even kissed me with the sweet taste of cookies on His breath, sending my tummmy into fits of grumbling.

Here i was hungry and He was flaunting our status. i loved it in ways that completely surprised me.

Yesterday ended similarly, with my tummy empty (though i assure you that i had plenty of calories for the day). He went one step further, demanding a back rub, even though He knew i would be tired and achy from having worked a 12 hour shift while He'd spent the day at home.

It is a bit like i feel with orgasm denial. My basic needs are being met, but the indulgences are being restricted at this time. And i love it.

Curiously, there is no resentment, no thoughts that He's being callous and thoughtless. And in that, i think, is the key. He's not being thoughtless. He is being very deliberate. He knew i was tired, just as He knew that my tummy was growling even while He denied me a final snack. He isn't just oblivious to these facts, but deliberately chooses to ignore them. And that makes all the difference in the world.

~p

Making Love, Being Fucked, and Being Used

There are really three levels of sex in a relationship.

When a couple makes love, it is a joining of body and soul where, on an unprecedented romantic level, the two momentarily become one entwined being of passion and beauty. Interestingly, my pet and I never really feel a desire for this kind of interaction. If ever we do it is quite fleeting, which we are both somewhat thankful for.

Oftentimes I fuck her, where my animalistic, hungry lust takes over and I have my way with her, oftentimes brutally and fiercely, with no real regard for her enjoyment but to satisfy my carnal desires.

Then there's the third type...the type where she is used. Where I'm not making love to her, I'm not even establishing my dominance over her as a person nor taking out my physiological hungers in a fucking. That would require for me, in those moments, to see her as a living being.

No....in those moments she becomes less than human. I'm masturbating, but using her body to do it. Oftentimes I cover her face, and she knows in those moments she is not to speak or move unless directed to do so. Sometimes I'm even thinking of other women. Sometimes it's even her best friends. She asks me when I finish, on occasion, who it was that I fucked. I've told her truthfully every time, including when it was her best friends. The answer I receive back almost every time is a simple "did she please You?" to which I usually smile and nod.

This third type of sex is becoming moderately common with us. I enjoy it because I can fuck literally whoever I want, even calling out their names, and she enjoys it because I get pleased while she becomes an object. My pet has a profound enjoyment for becoming objectified; becoming less than human. She likes being a tool or furniture, or some such. Occasionally, while I use her, I might put a pillow over her head and let her struggle to breathe, the power rush of controlling even her breathing literally helping to get me off. When she becomes less of a person and more a thing...she finds an interesting enjoyment in this, and me personally?

Well, I know it's not about her. In fact, if it were, it would completely defeat the purpose of this relationship and undermine it's very foundation. No, it's all about me.

Me.

What I want.

I am her Owner, and she my property.

As such, I won't lie. I get off on it. A situation where I can mentally fuck anyone I want, and all that matters is that I enjoy myself. Does she find pleasure? Doesn't matter. Does she get denied the chance to cum? Doesn't matter. All that matters is what I want.

Now oftentimes I'm nice enough to permit her to cum, but not always, and she knows it's not about her. She doesn't complain. She knows that no one, not even herself, is permitted to touch her cunt ever again. Only me, at my discretion.

It's all about me and what I want, and I know what I want.

I want her.

Of course our relationship has its hiccups, like any real relationship does, but all things considered, there is no one I'd rather have at my side and at my feet. No one else makes me happy the way she can...forever my possession.

Stating the Obvious

As one might infer from my pet's title as my possession, she is an object. However, that has never been more true until recently. We've been exploring the avenue of objectification. Recently I've taken to the habit of covering her face and head. When that happens, she knows what's coming: She's not to move on her own, not to make any noise whatsoever. She remains where I've posed her, and she says and does nothing in response to me, no matter how painful or horrifying it may be.

Recently I've been keeping it mellow: turning her into an object and using her cunt as a masturbation tool. More and more the idea of objectifying is appealing to me, however, especially when you consider everything. As of late I've also taken to chosing what she wears, much akin to how one might dress up a doll. Even if she's sullen about it, she still does as she's told, as she knows she should.

Part of that growing willingness to obey me in all things, even if she doesn't wish to, comes from something else that happened recently, I believe.

My pet, when upset, can be a willful creature. She reacts on emotion and does not usually think or use logic to decipher what should come next. She simply feels, and that comes out in all manner of releases. As I'm getting to know all the ins and outs of how she functions in any situation, I'm learning better how to maintain control of it. Oftentimes, concerned she might try to sever our relationship--or sometimes because I'm fed up with dealing with her figthing me--I've backed down and let her have her way while she's emotional until she's calmed down to see that she'd been reacting poorly.

Recently, however, I reached a point where I did something very simple. She threw a fit and got angry as we were lying in bed. In her emotionally reactive state she wanted me to leave. I simply told her 'no'. She then wanted to leave to go and sleep on the couch. I told her 'no'. She tried to squirm away from me in bed. I grabbed her, held her, and pulled her close. She tried to fight me. I told her to stop it and calm down, and that I would relax my grip if she stopped struggling.

This was the first time that I had not let her have her way when in her emotional state. She realized, for the first time, that I would not give in, and she would not get her way...she was trapped, stuck doing as I told her, even when she was upset. This was a first for her, and I honestly believe she didn't know how to react, and was surprised at my firmness, and my unwillingness to relent. For the first time, in her emotional state, I had broken her as she accepted her fate. I slept soundly, with my arms around her, and she was forced to remain in bed with me and curled close to me.

Ever since then, she has become more and more malleable, even in her emotionally reactive state. Just the other day she was furious at something--it was minor, I felt, but she mistook what I said and reacted strongly to it even to the point of throwing something across the living room because she's been so stressed lately--and I took her in hand. I sat her down in private, told her what she'd done was not acceptable. She told me what she'd misunderstood, I clarified, but I also told her that there was no excuse for her outburst. At first she had a defiant look and struggled against my touch, but I forced her to meet my eyes and she saw the look in mine. She felt the steel in my touch and in my tone, and she backed down. More and more she has been backing down and bending to me, as she should be, and it is a wonderfully plesent sensation to be able to control her even when she cannot control her own emotions.

The more control I have--in any fashion--the more addicting it is. And what is the ultimate form of control but objectification, where she becomes nothing more than a possession, be it something to toy with for my own amusement, something to use for my own pleasure, or even something to decorate my house with or keep chained to my desk as I go about the rest of my day.

Every day my ultimate authority grows stronger...and every day we become happier than ever.

Despite other worries, frustrations, problems, and anguishes...I've never been more personally fulfilled in my life.

One Small Step

It was the first - and last - mistake i made this afternoon. i'm not even certain why i did it, save for the menacing way in which He approached me, and after i had asked to be used before i had to leave to go home. Standing in His living room, with Him bearing down on me, my foot moved of its own accord, half a step backward. My stance never shifted, but it was enough.

"Are you backing away from me, pet? Are you afraid of me?"

Always.

i say it was the last mistake i made because frankly, from that moment on, i did nothing of my own accord. Quick as a cobra He struck, pushing me two feet back until i felt the door that we had just come through, pressing hard against my shoulder blades. my hands were forced above my head until my shoulders screamed from the angle in which they were held. i whimpered softly and He stopped sucking and biting at my neck long enough to ask what was wrong. He let my hands go only to grab a handful of the long straight hairs at the front of my "slave cut" (the back is shorn short where my collar buckles), yanking my face up toward His so He could claim my lips in a rough kiss.

Without any warning at all, He moved toward the bedroom, dragging me by the tight grip He had on my hair. He shoved me forward onto the bed and i think i was panting, even then. My orange sweater was tugged roughly out of the way and for a moment it seemed as if He would fold it with more gentleness than He was showing me at the moment, but instantly His mind changed and He placed it back over my head like a burlap sack. i couldn't believe He was doing this - i felt like the luckiest girl in the world in that instant.

i had only a fleeting glimpse through the orange fabric to warn me as His foot came up and shoved me onto my back. Again He reached for me, tugging my breasts out of the rosy pink bra and slapping each of them roughly, only once. i half expected a beating then - He was definitely in a violent mood - but He entered me after only a brief pause to laugh at how wet i was from all of the rough treatment.

"I do this to remind you what you are..."

"Thank You, Master."

"You're welcome, now shut up and don't talk."

You would have thought He'd just whispered sweet nothings to me, i was so grateful to hear those words. i could see Him through the fabric as He fucked me, each forceful thrust thundering like the clop of a horse's hooves. Never once did He look down at me. i was nothing to Him. And i loved it.

The lesson continued, even after He was finished until He was satisfied that His point had been driven home and time dragged us to have to part, but before the feminists beat my door down and tell me that i'm undoing a century of women's suffrage, let me tell you this: for the first time in my life, i can sit and watch the sweetest, most romantic movies and not envy the heroine the love of the leading man. i can read a love story and not envy what they have together. my Man is as sweet, caring and giving as any on the big screen or novel. And i have something that many traditional relationships cant boast... i know exactly where i fit into His world. i know my place, both in His life and in His heart. He makes sure of it.

~P

I challenge Me to a Dual

This isn't something I can talk about lightly. It's not something I've really spoken about at all, save directly to my possession. As anyone who has been following along would recognize, I have a very cruel streak in me. This has been coming out more and more lately. Psychologists would tell you my dominating nature is about power. While that is true--as a Master, power is never something I don't crave--I also crave the control even of pain. The cruel streak in me finds absolute, inexplicable euphoria in making her scream and cry, in hearing her beg for me to stop, in seeing the tears streaking her face, making it even more beautiful than it already is, if at all possible. I suppose in the end it's more about fulfilling that side of me that I've always kept quashed.

I suppose, with a personality like mine, I could have been some kind of sociopath, had things gone differently. This isn't an attempt to scare, just an honest evaluation of my own personality. Since a very young age I've had a fascination with the pain of other things and people. I've always been of two minds on the matter: One wishes to help and heal that pain, and the other finds a delicious satisfaction in witnessing something so personally devastating. Ever since I was a child and I was taught that such a thing was 'wrong' I learned to bury that second part of myself deep, deep down, along with the authoritative, controlling, aggressive part of myself. All of those things were considered 'bad' and were things I was told would make me a disappointment and make my family ashamed, so I did what I could to avoid being such to my family, and locked that part of me away deep down inside.

Now, something I did not expect occured because of this seperation...it became it's own Me. I realize how disturbing this sounds, and one could probably identify my as crazy for this, but I am perfectly, calmly, cogently aware of it all, which suggests I'm not as mentally unstable as one might think. Essentially, that part of my personality inherited its own thought patterns and behavioral subsets when it was buried to ensure it never snuck back up on me, and the rest developed along it's own path, unobstructed, to make the 'mister nice' the rest of the world sees me as. Probably about 98% of people who know me would be shocked to find out my true nature, but I hid it so well that for a while I even forgot about it myself...but there was always a part of me that was unsatisfied. I felt...lacking.

No relationship I was in could draw me out of this. No one could make me feel complete and whole until things began to develop with my possession. The other, more passive me that had been in the forefront all this time usually sought out someone else who didn't rely on me to take the forefront. It sought out somewhat more 'in-control' people so that I didn't have those temptations to control rise up within me, and I was always unhappy and dissatisfied. However, when I met and began to speak in earnest with my pet, I began to recognize immediately the passive nature of her personality. The submissive, giving way about her that suggested that she was a lifestyle slave who not only in the bedroom submitted to my will, but in every way throughout almost all of her day. For the first time in all of my life I felt that hidden part of myself rumble, as if awakening from a deep slumber only to find that after such a hibernation it hungered deeply. It wasn't until the past year that ht finally had a chance to come into the forefront, especially the past few months.

This hidden Me, This darker and more evil side...if it had claimed control when I was younger and didn't understand what it was much less how to give it a proper outlet, I might have ended up comitting terrible crimes and getting locked up without remorse while fully understanding what I'd done. One time I spoke to my mother about the possibliity of my uncle teaching me to hunt. I thought this might be an effective outlet. She laughed at me, and then when she grew serious about it told me that she knew I wouldn't be able to kill an innocent animal. The deeper ferocity within me, reacted with vehemence, I was surprised to find, and I was afraid in that moment as I learned I was far more ruthless than anyone took me for. Now, that ruthless and cruel Me was stepping out of the shadows, stretching his wings for the first time. As a mature adult that could recognize what it was and how to give it a proper outlet, however, there was no risk of something too negative happening.

Now we come to the slightly more interesting part of the tale. Each me is, in effect, its own personality. Each part is aware of and can communicate with the other, and each part knows what the other does. Each part has its own behaviors, and can refer to the other in conversation with my pet. I would switch who was in control depending on the situation, as though I was possessing of Multiple Personality Disorder. For us it seemed somewhat natural, but from the outside it would doubless appear absolutely insane. However, the problem is that they couldn't each operate independently and make us (both aus as a single person with two sides to me, and us as a couple) happy. They--we--I needed to be one whole person. Nevermind that both sides were independently being fulfilled, I was still not a whole person. The trick has been finding a way to make us one personality once more, while maintaining a balance of the good parts of both and keeing a healthy person.

Now, as I'm combining both sides of me to make something new; something dangerously wonderful--something that fulfills us both beyond imagine--I'm finding out something new about myself every day. Finding out how to make the ideal me is very interesting to say the least, but I find that its something that should have happened long ago...she was just the trigger to draw out the darker Me, much less allow them both to coexist as a single being without drawbacks.

I find that the evolution of myself as a compassionately cruel Master is coming to fruition, and as someone who has spent his whole life segragating who he was for the sake of those around him and the society's preference, life has never been sweeter than when I push my most valued, most beloved, most prized possession to the brink of tears and beyond when she's doing her best to hold it back.

In those moments I realize I am all-powerful, that I am in control, and I take the most delicious and dark pleasure in her pain that would make those of the vanilla lifestyle absolutely cringe in abject horror, and yet to me is one of the sweetest memories in recent life.

In those moments she intimately understands what no one else could ever see, much less understand

In those moments, I am more whole than I've ever been...and I have her to thank for it.

In the End, This is How it Began

i wish i could say that my sexual revolution occurred during adolescence, that i had always known that this is who i am. But it took over thirty years for the scales to be lifted from my eyes and even then, it was done so subtly, so gently, so patiently by M that i'm still struck by the transformation that has overcome me.

When M and i first met, i had been in a fourteen year marriage to a fella that i had absolutely no sexual attraction to. Thinking back, i can see why i was initially attracted to him -- publicly, he exudes a confidence and an arrogance that i've come to realize is hallmark in the men that i find attractive. In his case, it was a facade. With these new eyes, i look back and realize that in intimate settings, he wanted to be submissive. And he wanted me to be the one to dominate him. He even went so far as to suggest he buy me a crop. *shudder* It was no wonder that i hated sex so much it would make me cry. He told me there was something wrong with me; that i was simply 'impossible to arouse' and i believed him. i was innocent enough then that i didn't even realize the D/s elements present, nor the part i wished to play in them.

But M did. The more we talked, the more He knew. At first, He let me prattle on as we discussed fantasies -- ones that i'd never breathed to anyone before. *laughs* God, how silly He must have thought me. How utterly and sickly innocent. But no. He loves that innocence that even now, now that the veil has been lifted, is never completely gone. Innocence that still makes me blush when i learn a new word that i've never heard before. Innocence that He can defile again and again.

Nowadays, i see things in a new light. i can look back on my childhood, all the way back to the time that i was eleven, and i remember the young adolescent me having fantasies of sexual aggression against her. i can remember the bedrooms that i inhabited. i can remember the exact images that were going through my mind as i toyed with myself. i didn't even know then that what i did was masturbation. i remember books that i read - books such as "Wizard's First Rule" and "The Deeds of Paksenarrion" in which the main characters were captured and tortured and i cheered on the perpetrators, not even understanding why.

It never occurred to me that all of this could lead to an actual type of relationship, that other people sought this out. It never occurred to me that the very reason i thought i was attracted to my ex was an unconscious desire to have that, to be dominated. And i wonder, how could i not have seen? How could i have wasted all those years?

i suppose i was just waiting for M...