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.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
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
Monday, July 27, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
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...
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Tracks of My Tears
"You remember what I promised you, don't you?"
i stood there as if i didn't, but really, i did. It was perhaps ironic that He was promising me that i could cry for Him, endure so much pain that it would literally bring me to tears, but that was how it had happened. It really wasn't my fault, though. It's been seven days since He's allowed me an orgasm.
Seven... 7... One week...
No matter how you look at it, it still seems to me as if it's been a year or longer. And in those seven days, i would have made a deal with the devil, if only to feel a bit of release. Perhaps i had. For my Master's part, He likes the changes that have come over me in the past week. His slave has been demure, docile, and very eager to please. Absent have been the beligerent temper tantrums that tend to be sprinkled throughout our weeks. Instead, i've been desperate to please Him to the point that i begged Him to let me cry for Him.
And He graciously agreed.
There were so many errands on our morning that i'd almost thought He'd forgotten, or that there wouldn't be time for it. But He made time. It took only a few moments for Him to bind me, ankle, wrist and neck and after a quick negotiation to alleviate any undue pressure on my recently injured knee, it was decided that i would lay on the bed for this. It turned out best, in the end.
He began with the crop to "warm up" my flesh. In the beginning, it had always been the crop, but He had eventually decided that He liked the intimate contact of His hand against my flesh, so i was slightly surprised that He had decided to use it instead. The blows came harder than usual as if He had some frustration that He was working out on my body. Softly, He would drag the leather across my skin, teasing me, only to pause and swat.
"Disassociate yourself, pet. I want to really break you. I want to know, when you finally cry, that you did everything you could to prevent it."
It was a trick i had learned from Him, during those times of excess stress in my life. Complete relaxation. Maybe other submissives do it too, i don't know. i just know that i take a good deal more of a beating when i do it. That's what He was counting on. What He didn't realize was that the soft drag of the leather against my skin made it hard to relax completely, to refuse to anticipate the blow by flinching ahead of time and making it that much more painful for me. Still, i did as i was told.
The crop traced my cunt lips - nasty cruelness after so many days without being allowed release. It moved up my ass to swat at the padded flesh there. He made a complete round of my body; thighs, ass, back, shoulders, until every inch was tinged in pink from the bite of the crop.
Satisfied that i had been 'warmed up', He moved to lay on the bed beside me. His hand caressed the curve of my buttocks and for a moment, i forgot myself and leaned in to His touch. His hand lifted and came down on one cheek hard.
"That's it, pet. Fight it. I don't want you to scream unless you just can't help yourself."
i lay still, feeling His hand move from one buttock to the next and back again, each time coming down in a loud slap that was harder than i could ever recall feeling. My father was a fan of corporal punishment. Everything from disobedience to poor grades (including a mediocre 'C') was met with a belt across my backside - but even thinking back, i can't remember ever having been struck as harshly as He was doing today.
3... 4... 5... 6... i wasn't counting, but i think i made it at least to six before i finally cried out. It was a wracking cry followed by quick intakes of breath.
"Are those tears I hear on the edge of your voice?"
"No, Master. i can take more."
"Good."
He struck me again and again, switching from one ass cheek to the next, intentionally striking on top of where he had hit before, each pass stronger than the last. Finally, i broke down, crying out as the tears welled up in my eyes. i could tell that He was pleased with the sound, but still, He did not relent. He crooned at me softly, but His hand continued it's rhythmic spanking until my whole body shook with the force of my tears. i thought He would continue forever, make me beg for Him to stop, but His pleasure took over then and without warning, He turned me over and raised my legs up, giving Him access to use me. The bed burned against an ass that felt like it was on fire and each thrust brought with it a new round of whimpering cries. His eyes remained on my face, my tears, the entire time, and i could see in His expression that He was loving every minute of it.
When He was finished, He lay down beside me once again, His hands wandering across my naked flesh. His cruelty was not sated, though, as His fingers moved down between my thighs, rubbing and teasing me. "Please, don't," i whimpered, but He only laughed. He always laughs when i'm being tortured. i love it.
"What if i cum?" i asked. It had been 7 days, after all and after the way that He had just used me, i was already wanting it.
"you wont," He replied.
"Yes, but what if i do?"
"you won't," He repeated as if that was the end of it.
It took all of the concentration that i had to endure His teasing touch. Several times, i came close, but i managed to remain in blissful torture. He finally finished teasing me after what had seemed like an hour but must have been closer to twenty minutes. In the end, i rolled over, turning away from Him. His hand went to my ass and i could tell, though my back was turned to Him, that He liked what He saw. Ruptured capillaries had freckled my skin, a testimony to His handiwork. Pleased He must have been, for He turned me back to face Him.
It was time for round two.
i stood there as if i didn't, but really, i did. It was perhaps ironic that He was promising me that i could cry for Him, endure so much pain that it would literally bring me to tears, but that was how it had happened. It really wasn't my fault, though. It's been seven days since He's allowed me an orgasm.
Seven... 7... One week...
No matter how you look at it, it still seems to me as if it's been a year or longer. And in those seven days, i would have made a deal with the devil, if only to feel a bit of release. Perhaps i had. For my Master's part, He likes the changes that have come over me in the past week. His slave has been demure, docile, and very eager to please. Absent have been the beligerent temper tantrums that tend to be sprinkled throughout our weeks. Instead, i've been desperate to please Him to the point that i begged Him to let me cry for Him.
And He graciously agreed.
There were so many errands on our morning that i'd almost thought He'd forgotten, or that there wouldn't be time for it. But He made time. It took only a few moments for Him to bind me, ankle, wrist and neck and after a quick negotiation to alleviate any undue pressure on my recently injured knee, it was decided that i would lay on the bed for this. It turned out best, in the end.
He began with the crop to "warm up" my flesh. In the beginning, it had always been the crop, but He had eventually decided that He liked the intimate contact of His hand against my flesh, so i was slightly surprised that He had decided to use it instead. The blows came harder than usual as if He had some frustration that He was working out on my body. Softly, He would drag the leather across my skin, teasing me, only to pause and swat.
"Disassociate yourself, pet. I want to really break you. I want to know, when you finally cry, that you did everything you could to prevent it."
It was a trick i had learned from Him, during those times of excess stress in my life. Complete relaxation. Maybe other submissives do it too, i don't know. i just know that i take a good deal more of a beating when i do it. That's what He was counting on. What He didn't realize was that the soft drag of the leather against my skin made it hard to relax completely, to refuse to anticipate the blow by flinching ahead of time and making it that much more painful for me. Still, i did as i was told.
The crop traced my cunt lips - nasty cruelness after so many days without being allowed release. It moved up my ass to swat at the padded flesh there. He made a complete round of my body; thighs, ass, back, shoulders, until every inch was tinged in pink from the bite of the crop.
Satisfied that i had been 'warmed up', He moved to lay on the bed beside me. His hand caressed the curve of my buttocks and for a moment, i forgot myself and leaned in to His touch. His hand lifted and came down on one cheek hard.
"That's it, pet. Fight it. I don't want you to scream unless you just can't help yourself."
i lay still, feeling His hand move from one buttock to the next and back again, each time coming down in a loud slap that was harder than i could ever recall feeling. My father was a fan of corporal punishment. Everything from disobedience to poor grades (including a mediocre 'C') was met with a belt across my backside - but even thinking back, i can't remember ever having been struck as harshly as He was doing today.
3... 4... 5... 6... i wasn't counting, but i think i made it at least to six before i finally cried out. It was a wracking cry followed by quick intakes of breath.
"Are those tears I hear on the edge of your voice?"
"No, Master. i can take more."
"Good."
He struck me again and again, switching from one ass cheek to the next, intentionally striking on top of where he had hit before, each pass stronger than the last. Finally, i broke down, crying out as the tears welled up in my eyes. i could tell that He was pleased with the sound, but still, He did not relent. He crooned at me softly, but His hand continued it's rhythmic spanking until my whole body shook with the force of my tears. i thought He would continue forever, make me beg for Him to stop, but His pleasure took over then and without warning, He turned me over and raised my legs up, giving Him access to use me. The bed burned against an ass that felt like it was on fire and each thrust brought with it a new round of whimpering cries. His eyes remained on my face, my tears, the entire time, and i could see in His expression that He was loving every minute of it.
When He was finished, He lay down beside me once again, His hands wandering across my naked flesh. His cruelty was not sated, though, as His fingers moved down between my thighs, rubbing and teasing me. "Please, don't," i whimpered, but He only laughed. He always laughs when i'm being tortured. i love it.
"What if i cum?" i asked. It had been 7 days, after all and after the way that He had just used me, i was already wanting it.
"you wont," He replied.
"Yes, but what if i do?"
"you won't," He repeated as if that was the end of it.
It took all of the concentration that i had to endure His teasing touch. Several times, i came close, but i managed to remain in blissful torture. He finally finished teasing me after what had seemed like an hour but must have been closer to twenty minutes. In the end, i rolled over, turning away from Him. His hand went to my ass and i could tell, though my back was turned to Him, that He liked what He saw. Ruptured capillaries had freckled my skin, a testimony to His handiwork. Pleased He must have been, for He turned me back to face Him.
It was time for round two.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Imperfection
I am not perfect. I have never claimed such a distinction, and I can say with confidence that I never will. Whilst as a Master over my pet I clearly hold dominion I, like any other man, will make mistakes...though men would have you think otherwise. I am smart, I am capable, I am proud, I am even kind, but I am not perfect. There will come times when I don't do everything right, and the odds of this increase because of the relationship I have with my slave, not in spite of it.
In vanilla relationships there are age-old rules that have stood the test of time. There are things that people do that have just become expected. Every M/s relationship, however, has its own unique complications and dynamics. There are times when, for the good of the relationship, that aspect must be set aside and we must regard each other as equals, if only temporarily. The trick of it is knowing when equality should take a place and when I, as the Master, truly hold dominion. At this especially I have shown to have poor judgment, attempting to enforce authority or judge inequality when in reality equality and a caring thought is more necessary than ruling with an iron fist.
There is a specific distinction between causing pain, and causing suffering. I, admittedly, love to cause my slave pain. I loathe causing her suffering. I will delight in causing her pain frequently, but I would die before wishing any suffering upon her. Pain is when you inflict short-lived, sudden, and intense discomfort upon the subject that can, in it's unique fashion, enhance the happiness of the subject and help bring a sense of fulfillment even. In contrast, suffering is a long-standing and terrible ache that ultimately detracts from the existence and ultimate happiness and fulfillment of the subject. Causing my slave pain is so very enjoyable for both of us. Causing her suffering brings pleasure to neither and can, if untended, drive a wedge between me and my slave.
I love her unconditionally. She is someone who I cherish and adore, even more than she knows. She is special to me, and I cannot express my wish to help her in life's challenges and make the world better and easier for her. There are times, however, that I am unable to make the distinction of the necessity of equality, which in turn causes a horrible rift in the otherwise mostly fluid dynamic between us. Had I been able to recognize the necessity of being the decent human being we both know I can be rather than the Master I often am, it wouldn't have caused the rift that occurred.
In this I am imperfect. I never admitted perfection, but nonetheless it pains me to admit to my faults, of which this clearly is one, as this isn't the first time it's occurred and suffering was the result, much to our mutual dismay.
I know that she knows I'd never wish her to suffer and that I'm not as terrible as I might seem at times, but it can be easy to lose sight of that, I know.
So, just to be clear.
Now, and forever, my beloved slave, if ever I cause you suffering rather than pain; if ever I make your life more problematic rather than less...I am sorry. So very deeply, terribly sorry. We both enjoy the M/s arrangement because it makes your life simpler and mine more enjoyable, and we find a mutual satisfaction in it. If ever that is disrupted, it would never, ever be my wish. If ever I am seen in a negative light because of my actions making your life less tolerable rather than more...well, I would never wish for that.
I have no desire to be seen as a burden...I have only ever wished to help lighten your load rather than increase it...but part of dealing with me means dealing with my imperfections, of which I regrettably have many. As you've said, this relationship is a work in progress while we find boundaries and lines, and figure out when to cross them--and in which direction--and when to leave them be. I will make many more mistakes in the future, I know this, because I am imperfect, just as you are imperfect. You complete me, however. My imperfections and faults are filled by you, and yours by me. Separately we are imperfect, but together we can achieve something no one else alone can.
Perfection.
All I can ask is that we be patient and understanding with each other while we find the necessary middle ground to make this relationship the best it can be while accepting that bumps will occur, but they should not end things rather than be learned from...and I have faith that once perfected, what we have will truly be a thing surpassing beauty.
In vanilla relationships there are age-old rules that have stood the test of time. There are things that people do that have just become expected. Every M/s relationship, however, has its own unique complications and dynamics. There are times when, for the good of the relationship, that aspect must be set aside and we must regard each other as equals, if only temporarily. The trick of it is knowing when equality should take a place and when I, as the Master, truly hold dominion. At this especially I have shown to have poor judgment, attempting to enforce authority or judge inequality when in reality equality and a caring thought is more necessary than ruling with an iron fist.
There is a specific distinction between causing pain, and causing suffering. I, admittedly, love to cause my slave pain. I loathe causing her suffering. I will delight in causing her pain frequently, but I would die before wishing any suffering upon her. Pain is when you inflict short-lived, sudden, and intense discomfort upon the subject that can, in it's unique fashion, enhance the happiness of the subject and help bring a sense of fulfillment even. In contrast, suffering is a long-standing and terrible ache that ultimately detracts from the existence and ultimate happiness and fulfillment of the subject. Causing my slave pain is so very enjoyable for both of us. Causing her suffering brings pleasure to neither and can, if untended, drive a wedge between me and my slave.
I love her unconditionally. She is someone who I cherish and adore, even more than she knows. She is special to me, and I cannot express my wish to help her in life's challenges and make the world better and easier for her. There are times, however, that I am unable to make the distinction of the necessity of equality, which in turn causes a horrible rift in the otherwise mostly fluid dynamic between us. Had I been able to recognize the necessity of being the decent human being we both know I can be rather than the Master I often am, it wouldn't have caused the rift that occurred.
In this I am imperfect. I never admitted perfection, but nonetheless it pains me to admit to my faults, of which this clearly is one, as this isn't the first time it's occurred and suffering was the result, much to our mutual dismay.
I know that she knows I'd never wish her to suffer and that I'm not as terrible as I might seem at times, but it can be easy to lose sight of that, I know.
So, just to be clear.
Now, and forever, my beloved slave, if ever I cause you suffering rather than pain; if ever I make your life more problematic rather than less...I am sorry. So very deeply, terribly sorry. We both enjoy the M/s arrangement because it makes your life simpler and mine more enjoyable, and we find a mutual satisfaction in it. If ever that is disrupted, it would never, ever be my wish. If ever I am seen in a negative light because of my actions making your life less tolerable rather than more...well, I would never wish for that.
I have no desire to be seen as a burden...I have only ever wished to help lighten your load rather than increase it...but part of dealing with me means dealing with my imperfections, of which I regrettably have many. As you've said, this relationship is a work in progress while we find boundaries and lines, and figure out when to cross them--and in which direction--and when to leave them be. I will make many more mistakes in the future, I know this, because I am imperfect, just as you are imperfect. You complete me, however. My imperfections and faults are filled by you, and yours by me. Separately we are imperfect, but together we can achieve something no one else alone can.
Perfection.
All I can ask is that we be patient and understanding with each other while we find the necessary middle ground to make this relationship the best it can be while accepting that bumps will occur, but they should not end things rather than be learned from...and I have faith that once perfected, what we have will truly be a thing surpassing beauty.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
...tried the rest...
It's been awhile since i've been able to write. Life has been overwhelmingly busy and He has been very understanding. i'm sure He would rather see a post or two - i know He takes pride in them - but He also knows that there is so much going on in my life that another project would just break me. But tonight, i need it, need to work my thoughts out loud.
As i said, the past few weeks have been very overwhelming. i've been more than just busy. Life has been stressful, dealing with government red tape, studying for finals, finishing one project, starting the next, working full time, stretching my dollar beyond its bounds and just the general unfairness that is life. More than just 'busy'. i've been strung tighter than guitar strings. And taking it all out on Him. i've been hateful. i've been selfish. i've been belligerent and demanding and, yes, even controlling in a way. i didn't realize it when it was happening, but i'm coming to understand it now.
Then, complete 180.
All of the busy-ness took a brief pause for a week. And in that time, when i could breathe, i wanted to be controlled. i wanted to be put back into the place that i had broken out of so nastily the week prior. i think that, all the while, i've really needed it, but i have been so volatile that neither of us were willing to see if i could take it.
But not this time. This time, i was meek. i even brought His crop to Him. My demeanor was soft and i longed for Him to be firm, controlling, even harsh, if it pleased Him. Just dominate me.
It never came.
He assures me that it was just bad timing, but i still felt rejected and somewhat hurt. Funny how His steely gaze comforts me more than His sweetest hug. And not being beaten stings, despite the kisses and the 'I love you's. i don't think that anyone not in this sort of relationship can understand how i can hear "I love you" and yet, if He's not willing to take me firmly in hand, then i feel rejection.
i waited until He had left for the night before mentioning it to Him via text msg. i didn't want my words to alter His behavior any. Really, i don't want the control, even inadvertent, despite my stress induced episodes this past month. i ranted and i sulked. And even when He explained that it was just a matter of a timing miscalculation, i still sulked. i came home and sat down to peruse one of my favorite blogs, looking within its pages for comfort and solace and.... validation. Justification for my pity party.
The guest writer for the blog started out telling of her husband, taking her to be caned for a transgression - not filling her car with enough gas - and i thought, 'see? That's what i want. That's the level of control...' And then it hit me. Flashes of the arguments we had sped through my mind, rapid fire, and i got a sinking feeling in my gut. i read on, though her words betrayed my need for validation. "Don't do what you think he wants, just obey," she admonished. i hadn't even done the one, let alone the other. Here, i was feeling sorry for myself because He wasn't doing what i thought He should when it was me who hadn't lived up to my end of the bargain from the first.
Submitting sounds easier than it is. He once told me, it's easy to be submissive when you want to - it's when you don't want to that it really counts. i guess that's the inherent nature of 'submission'. Not doing it because you want to. Doing it when you don't. i failed that this month. i failed Him.
But i have learned something from it. i've learned that i have work of my own to do to put into helping Him create the relationship that we both want. i need to remind myself to work on submission, especially in those moments when i would rather scream like a banshee and fight to get my way. i've learned that, whether He does what i want Him to or not doesn't matter. What matters is what HE wants, even if that doesn't involve being harsh to me when i crave it. My temper tantrums - whether sulky or spiteful - are inappropriate, especially if this is the relationship that i truly want.
Most of all, i've learned that it IS what i want. His sweetness and hugs and tender caresses do not give me the same sense of comfort and feeling of being wanted and truly loved as His control. i couldn't live without the rest.
edit: To anyone in the same situation and reading this, let me say, this is a process - and one that we are still just starting. i realize that now. It will take time, not only for us to negotiate the 'normal' aspects of a new relationship, but also the M/s dynamic. It isn't something that i will achieve overnight, nor is it realistic to think that we will ever get to a point where we handle every encounter perfectly. It doesn't excuse my behavior, but it does allow me to live with it. And while He will take me to task for being disrespectful, He will hold me just as accountable for being too harsh with myself. After all, that's His job.
As i said, the past few weeks have been very overwhelming. i've been more than just busy. Life has been stressful, dealing with government red tape, studying for finals, finishing one project, starting the next, working full time, stretching my dollar beyond its bounds and just the general unfairness that is life. More than just 'busy'. i've been strung tighter than guitar strings. And taking it all out on Him. i've been hateful. i've been selfish. i've been belligerent and demanding and, yes, even controlling in a way. i didn't realize it when it was happening, but i'm coming to understand it now.
Then, complete 180.
All of the busy-ness took a brief pause for a week. And in that time, when i could breathe, i wanted to be controlled. i wanted to be put back into the place that i had broken out of so nastily the week prior. i think that, all the while, i've really needed it, but i have been so volatile that neither of us were willing to see if i could take it.
But not this time. This time, i was meek. i even brought His crop to Him. My demeanor was soft and i longed for Him to be firm, controlling, even harsh, if it pleased Him. Just dominate me.
It never came.
He assures me that it was just bad timing, but i still felt rejected and somewhat hurt. Funny how His steely gaze comforts me more than His sweetest hug. And not being beaten stings, despite the kisses and the 'I love you's. i don't think that anyone not in this sort of relationship can understand how i can hear "I love you" and yet, if He's not willing to take me firmly in hand, then i feel rejection.
i waited until He had left for the night before mentioning it to Him via text msg. i didn't want my words to alter His behavior any. Really, i don't want the control, even inadvertent, despite my stress induced episodes this past month. i ranted and i sulked. And even when He explained that it was just a matter of a timing miscalculation, i still sulked. i came home and sat down to peruse one of my favorite blogs, looking within its pages for comfort and solace and.... validation. Justification for my pity party.
The guest writer for the blog started out telling of her husband, taking her to be caned for a transgression - not filling her car with enough gas - and i thought, 'see? That's what i want. That's the level of control...' And then it hit me. Flashes of the arguments we had sped through my mind, rapid fire, and i got a sinking feeling in my gut. i read on, though her words betrayed my need for validation. "Don't do what you think he wants, just obey," she admonished. i hadn't even done the one, let alone the other. Here, i was feeling sorry for myself because He wasn't doing what i thought He should when it was me who hadn't lived up to my end of the bargain from the first.
Submitting sounds easier than it is. He once told me, it's easy to be submissive when you want to - it's when you don't want to that it really counts. i guess that's the inherent nature of 'submission'. Not doing it because you want to. Doing it when you don't. i failed that this month. i failed Him.
But i have learned something from it. i've learned that i have work of my own to do to put into helping Him create the relationship that we both want. i need to remind myself to work on submission, especially in those moments when i would rather scream like a banshee and fight to get my way. i've learned that, whether He does what i want Him to or not doesn't matter. What matters is what HE wants, even if that doesn't involve being harsh to me when i crave it. My temper tantrums - whether sulky or spiteful - are inappropriate, especially if this is the relationship that i truly want.
Most of all, i've learned that it IS what i want. His sweetness and hugs and tender caresses do not give me the same sense of comfort and feeling of being wanted and truly loved as His control. i couldn't live without the rest.
edit: To anyone in the same situation and reading this, let me say, this is a process - and one that we are still just starting. i realize that now. It will take time, not only for us to negotiate the 'normal' aspects of a new relationship, but also the M/s dynamic. It isn't something that i will achieve overnight, nor is it realistic to think that we will ever get to a point where we handle every encounter perfectly. It doesn't excuse my behavior, but it does allow me to live with it. And while He will take me to task for being disrespectful, He will hold me just as accountable for being too harsh with myself. After all, that's His job.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
