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