Archive for August, 2007

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Imprinted

August 31, 2007

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I’ve been too busy with life to post much lately. i’m hoping this is a worthy substitute for my insightful prose. 😉

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A question about difficult days

August 28, 2007

Over the weekend i had (yet another) “crisis of submission.” My Master sent me email telling me that from now one He wanted me to ask His permission to read any sex blogs (not just D/s), follow links on my referrer logs, and check back for replies to comments on other blogs. Each and every time, not just an occasional blanket permission that had been the case for a while.

i nearly burst into tears. Partly because when i saw His email, the original part led me to think He was going to allow me more freedom, not less, so there was a big mismatch in expectations. Also because it felt like i was being punished, and i hadn’t done anything wrong.

Really, it was a major overreaction to a small thing. It’s not the end of the world if i have to wait a half hour, or even half a day, to read Pretty Dumb Things. But it was just a part of another day of struggling with my submission. Another day of facing the harsh reality that it’s not about me, it’s about Him, and if He wants to constrain my reading because He wants to monitor it more closely, then that is His to do. And my part is to obey, and welcome it as an opportunity to serve Him and please Him. Even when i don’t feel like it.

Sometime i feel very freed by my submission – free to do things and dream things and be things that i never even imagined before. Other times i chafe at the constraints. And then i feel frustrated with myself. i feel like a failure as a submissive, and wonder why i’m even bothering to do this. Maybe i’m not really a submissive. I wrote to Him: “Nobody else writes about this stuff. Everybody else seems to imply that submission came completely naturally and was instantly fulfilling and they’ve been ecstatically happy since then.” He seems pretty sure that other subs have bad days too, but they just only right about the good bits – the scenes, the things that make them hot.

So… is he right? Do the rest of you have difficult days sometimes? Doubt yourselves? Feel like this is all work and not enough play?

Oh, and i should say that after some email and IM with Him, and some meditation and re-reading my mantras and old blog posts, and getting a good nights sleep, i woke up yesterday feeling completely at home and safe in my submission again. To the point where I really couldn’t even figure out what it was that had bothered me so much the previous day. So at least it was a short-lived crisis.

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On becoming a small letter person

August 23, 2007

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might have noticed that i’ve recently adopted the small “i” for myself and a bunch of capital letters when i refer to my Master.

i’ve moved in and out of the BDSM scene for about 15 years now, and i always thought the whole capitalization thing to be vaguely ridiculous. Everyone’s entitled to their kink, so i would never have criticized anyone for it, but i always thought it was a bit silly, and was happy that my Master agreed with me and let me write normally.

Ahem.

A couple weeks ago i was writing a reply to a blog comment, and i found that i really, really wanted to write Him instead of him. i’d like to blame it on reading too many D/s blogs, but i don’t get permission to do that very often, so it couldn’t be that. Instead, it was just like the first time i called Him “Master” – something that welled up inside of me, out of my feelings of submission.

i sent Him an email about the way i was feeling, and He said that He had been feeling the same way, and had just been thinking about the right time and way to tell me. He told me that i couldn’t just use the capitals for Him – i had to use the small i for myself. That was harder – i had to really suppress my “this is so ridiculous” reaction for that one. I could justify the capital H as having a functional use – it made it clear when i was writing that the “he” in question was my Master. But a small i is a statement about myself and who i am. His. His submissive. His property.

At least in our D/s relationship (and i think others too), there are a whole slew of little rituals – you can see ours in my rules. Those rituals serve a variety of purposes, but chief among them is to remind me who i belong to. Those constant reminders are what help infuse every bit of my life with my submission. Having to be aware of my submission in every letter that i type is a powerful infusion.

Even beyond that, it’s about respect. In taking me as His submissive, my Master assumed a huge amount of responsibility. Far beyond that in a “regular” relationship. And capitalization is an outward sign of my recognition and appreciation of that responsibility.

That’s the philosophy. In the day to day of being a small letter person, the “i” came far easier than i thought it would, and i’ve gotten so used to it that i have to be mindful not to do it when i’m sending emails from work, etc. The Him’s and He’s are fairly easy to remember, since i am very aware of my submission when i am writing about it to other people. The “You’s” are the hardest. In general, email and blog posts are easier, while SMS and IM are harder.

If i am in a hurry, answering one of His emails just like it’s another thing on my to-do list, then i will almost always forget to capitalize correctly. But when i take a moment to first “place” myself in my submission, to find my submissive self and move it to the foreground, then it comes naturally. It makes me more focused, more submissive, more thoughtful in my writing and careful in my word choice. i will rewrite sentences rather than going back and just fixing the mistakes as an afterthought, because it is the process, not the outcome, that is most important.

When i am “in the zone,” i hardly notice that i am doing it. When i am forgetting, each correction just reminds me to refocus myself on Him and on my submission. When i go back and read the emails or posts later, i love seeing those capital letters. It’s unusual to see capital letters in the middle of sentences, so it catches my attention every time, and in that capturing of attention, it pulls me out of the everyday and into my submission.

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Dinner Party

August 22, 2007

Last night my masturbation instructions were to masturbate twice to almost orgasm and imagine my Master denying me release, and then a third time to orgasm if i could get there submissively (Rule 3). i was to do it while fantasizing about all the ways i could serve as his slavegirl if he were hosting a dinner party.

i went upstairs and knelt naked next to the bed. i started playing with my nipples while i thought about His dinner party scenario. i imagined myself dressed in revealing black lingerie and wearing high heels, greeting guests at the door, taking their coats, getting them drinks.

i kept playing with my nipples, and then my clit. i wanted to keep having both hands on my nipples, so i put a clothespin around my clit. i continued like that for a little while, thinking more about the dinner party, about my body being on display as i walked around doing my various greeting duties.

Then i took my purple dildo out of the drawer and put its base on the floor, straddled it and fucked myself with it while i flicked the clothespin and felt it tugging at my clit. After a couple minutes of this i took the clothespin off and rubbed my newly sensitive clit directly, and as orgasm approached for the first time, i imagined that i was providing entertainment to my Master’s guests. i imagined that one of them was fucking me with a dildo in front of all the others, and as that person brought me close to orgasm, i cried out to my Master for permission. i imaged him saying “No, not yet, the night is still young.” And in my fantasy and in reality, the dildo was withdrawn.

i sat back on my haunches, breathing hard and resting for a couple minutes. Then i started again. i took the big butt plug from the drawer, lubed it up and inserted it while i rubbed my clit and thought about kneeling under the table during dinner, occasionally being thrown down bits of food while i rubbed myself appreciatively against the guests ‘ legs, like a cat would.

Butt plug in place, i put the clothespin around my clit again, more directly this time so the sensation was sharper. Then i took a high heeled shoe from my drawer, kissed it and sucked it and licked it, then fucked myself with the toe of it, all the while feeling the butt plug in my ass and flicking that clothespin on my clit. i imagined being my Master’s plate – lying on the table and having Him eat His food directly off my body. i took off the clothespin and rubbed myself to the edge of orgasm again, this time imagining that one of His female guests was entertaining herself by fucking me with the toe of her shoe, still on her foot. Once again i asked my Master if i could come for Him, and again He said “No, not yet.” i imagined His guests laughing a little at my arousal and frustration as the woman removed her shoe from my cunt.

Another pause, and this time i moved up onto the bed, because i was actually having a little bit of trouble keeping the butt plug in, lubed up as it was and in my kneeling position (surprised the heck out of me when it popped out!). Lying on the bed, i fucked myself with the purple dildo, enjoying the feeling of being full in both holes, imagining that it was two cocks in me. But that was really a fantasy for another time, so instead i thought about lying facedown on the table as a centerpiece on the table, a dildo in my cunt and the end of a candle stuck in my ass as a plug. And every time the wax would drip on me i’d squirm and my Master would tell me to be still, but the squirming would move the dildo in my cunt and make me that much more aroused, making it even harder to stay still. i put clothespins on both my nipples, kept fucking myself and rubbing my clit, and then i was on the edge again. This time when i cried out “Please, please, please Sir, please may i come for You,” He finally said yes, and then it was as if my entire body exploded.

Thank You, Sir.

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Not your usual sex toy

August 22, 2007

Today i am doing “pussy reporting” for my Master. i have to tell Him each time i go to the bathroom, scratch an itch, notice myself getting wet. Anything that happens to my pussy. Last time He did this, i had hair growing in from shaving and i was itchy, itchy, itchy. So i had lots to report. But today’s been a quiet day for my pussy – no unusual itches, only a couple of bathroom visits, and i’ve been focused on work, so no arousal to report either. Master was clearly disappointed with my reports, so He decided to make things more interesting. i got an email:

Find something to stuff down your underwear. Something you’ll notice. Keep it there for at least an hour.

i had no idea what “something” should be. i asked Him, and He told me to be creative – He didn’t know what i had at my desk.

i shuffled my papers, looking for something that might be interesting. And i spotted a Koosh ball. It hangs out on my desk and i pick it up occasionally and toss it around when i’m thinking about things and need some distraction. It seemed like the most interesting option, so i unzipped my pants and stuffed it into the black g-string i’m wearing today.

Oh, my. It’s got a combination of firm and soft that does quite interesting things. i’m wearing tight pants today, so they are pressing the firm center of the Koosh up against my clit. i can feel my pulse pounding in my clit in response to the pressure. Within minutes, my cunt juices started literally dripping from my pussy – i’m sitting in a pool of them right now. If i move around, then i can feel the strands of the ball tickling various bits of me.

Needless to say, my pussy is no longer having a quiet day. i’m absolutely desperate to play with my nipples, but i don’t have permission. i’d ask, but my Master? He’s gone out for dinner. Back in a couple hours.

20 more minutes if i only go the minimum of one hour. i might have to tie my hands behind my back.

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Hairbrush

August 20, 2007

Between the cold and the rain, i was chilled to the bone. A hot bath was just the thing to heat me up. i climbed into the bathtub, and as the water warmed me, my cunt warmed with thoughts of how i should best masturbate for my Master that night – what position to be in, what toys to use. i had no doubt that an orgasm would come to me in my submission. i was so grateful to be granted permission, that with every touch of the washcloth on my pubic mound i was reminded that my body belongs to Him, and that i had only been given leave to play with it.

As i thought about this, my hands strayed to my nipples. i knew that in my current state of arousal, it wasn’t going to take me long at all to give Him an orgasm once i started to masturbate in earnest, and i wanted to extend it – feel my submission in this way for as long as i could. So i thought i would get myself nice and aroused before going downstairs to finish up on my computer and say good night. i know He likes to see me in my want and need and denial, and i wanted to put myself there for Him.

The water splashed on my nipples in time with my fingers, and soon i was gasping. One hand slipped down to my cunt, rubbing circles on my clit, until my pussy tightened in need and want. i stopped, savoring the sensations of waiting for Him, prolonging my arousal a little longer for Him.

i thought about getting out of the tub, but instead my fingers found my nipples again, and with a flick-flick-flick i was soon back at the height of my need. i thought again about what i might do for Him, thought about filling my ass with my biggest plug, preparing and readying myself to serve Him with that ass, to open it to His cock when He asks it of me.

Filled with the need to serve, i pinched my nipples as hard as i could, wishing i could make it hurt like He does, wishing i could make myself cry out in agony and ecstasy as i do at His hand. But try as i might, i couldn’t make it really hurt. As i thought about self-inflicted pain, i remembered His comment that i needed to get a proper spanking hairbrush, and as i imagined myself spanking my own cunt with a hairbrush for Him, i was overtaken by the need to give Him myself, give Him my orgasm, right then, and right there.

Thoughts of hairbrushes reminded me of swapping childhood masturbation stories with the girls the other night, and their singing the praises of the plastic hairbrush handle. i leaned out of the bathtub and grabbed mine from the drawer. i shoved it deep into myself, savoring its hardness, remembering the hardness of my Master’s cock as He slams it into me. i imagined it was Him fucking me with a hairbrush handle, or a liquor bottle, or some other object. Imagined us out in public, Him grabbing whatever was handy and pushing it inside my slut pussy, fucking me like that for everyone to see, saying “Look at this slut, she’s so desperate for a cock she’ll fuck a hairbrush handle if she has to.” And then i was calling out to Him for permission, and then His orgasm rocketed through me. And i could feel the aftershocks in the clenching of my pussy causing the brush i was still holding in my hand to twitch, and in my finger, still pressed to my clit.

And then i slowly floated back down to earth, singing thank You’s and i love You’s in my mind. Thank You for owning me, Sir. Thank You for allowing me to serve You in my pleasure as well as in my pain. i love You, always and completely, with every cell of my being, in every possible way.

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A meditation on patience and my place

August 19, 2007

I’ve been feeling a little off my game these past couple days. Master and i had exchanged a few emails Friday morning, and then i headed into work, expecting that He would be around to chat some more when i got there. But He wasn’t. And i got all mopey and bereft because of it. i wanted His attention. Expected it. i wrote Him a whiny little email, and once He got back online, He responded with this:

You’re going to have to rely on your center and your submission during these times. You cannot expect me to be there for you; you’re there for me.

i recognized that i was not thinking like a submissive. i apologized to Him for behaving like a spoiled child. i knew i was out of line, and talked to him about my continuing difficulties around old patterns of self interest and control. But still i held on to that sentence, and it burned me. What do you mean, this isn’t all about me?

Master asked me to write a meditation for these times, one about knowing my place and remembering my submission. And i couldn’t do it. i started reading through old mantras and meditations and emails, and feeling like a failure as a submissive, since many of those mantras deal with the same problems on my part. (As my Master says – this is my “hard”.) i began to question why i was even bothering, since it was obviously futile that i would ever be a proper submissive. In short, i was spinning out of control.

But Master caught me, as He always does, and helped me break through this big mental block i was stuck in. When i woke up this morning, there was a long email from Him, reminding me of why i needed to do this, and instructing me to just take a first step – write a small meditation, without judging myself, without worrying about if it was “right.” And still i struggled. i could come up with lots of words, but none that i could buy into, none that i could believe in, especially when i was feeling this way. i stared at the blank page, and stared some more. Then, finally something came to me. Three short sentences, but it was enough.

My Master is thinking about me always. But sometimes serving him means waiting patiently, letting go of selfishness and anxiety. He will return to me, because he was never really gone.

i sent it off to Him, and got my next set of instructions. “There are three thoughts here, each in its own sentence. The first is about me. The second is about you. The third is about the future. Turn each one into a few sentences.”

i focused on my submission, focused on what i had already written, and did as He asked. He had me expand a little bit in some places, and then it was done. This simple task that had been making me miserable for two days was done, and out of it i had a beautiful meditation. And a return of the peace and calm that comes to me when i am really submitting to Him.

A meditation on patience and my place

i know that my Master holds a piece of me in His heart, and that i am never far from His thoughts. This is true even when He has other things He must attend to, other realities He must live in. And instead of being resentful and childish at those times, i need to be patient. My patience is in service to Him as much as any task He sets me or demand He makes of me. i submit to Him when i let go of feelings of selfishness and anxiety and instead focus on feeling my submission, and expressing that submission through patience and letting go. i find security and peacefulness when i remember that He will return to me, because He was never really gone.