All Tangled Up

So the topic du jour around FetLife lately is hair. More specifically, who can do what with it. Can the sub save it, the slave submit to losing it? If you shave it all, does the loss of your dead protein head covering make you crazy and traumatized?

I’m bad at this whole “going into slavery with my eyes wide open” thing, because it never occurred to me that I could submit to Him but still retain full authority over my hair. Oh how I want it to be that way in my dreamworld…a world where I can have a blue stripe in my hair, but it short to my ears, have it done up in cornrows and braids, get some awesome color put in…

Instead I have these rules:

  1. Do not cut more than 2 inches off without His express approval (layering exempted)
  2. Do not color hair anything other than naturally-occurring-in-my-lineage colors. This leaves a reddish brown, chocolate brown, Ash blonde and reddish blonde to choose from.
  3. No fucked up hair dos. Buns, ponytails, main braids and puppy ears are allowed. Down and brushed is best. Hair must be long and relatively unscathed. No cornrows, full head braids, dreds, beads…NO.

Before college became a reality I handled the above restrictions fairly well. I figured eventaully the day would come when He’d become tired of my long plain jane hairstyle and let me do something to jazz it up a lil. Maybe some cute contrasting chunky highlights, or a short asymmetrical bob, something different than my current Little House on the Prairie look going on. Now that college is imminent, I can feel some old panic and resentment floatingĀ  to the surface, little bubbles of impotent frustration and anger floating in an otherwise calm pond of acceptance. I’m going to school to join a workforce that is rather conservative regarding hair for safety and aesthetic reasons.

Once college is done, I’m trapped into a forever of buns, braids and ponytails, of bland colors and a melange of cute scrunchies to enliven my hair.

*yawn* Ugh. This is my future?!

I want to rebel against this eternity of matronly suppression. I don’t want to admit to myself that my chances of ever playing around with the hair on my head are fully over.

I want a chance to reinvent myself, if only for this short bit.

Love her hair, I'd go a little darker on the blue since my skin tone would look a little washed out with this pretty pale blue.

And I didn’t know then, but I know now, that the chance was gone before I ever missed it. It was foolish and false hope that sustained me this long, and now that flying carpet’s been shot down.

I’m not traumatized, but I am forlorn. Another link in the chain around my brain and my heart. Slightly heavier load than before, but eventually that weight will feel comforting. Just have to wait until then.

And stop reading my friends’ writings about having purple and blue hair and pixie cuts.

A Slave’s Dream

Even though slavery is something i sought out, something to i function best in, there are times that i feel less than enthused when i get a good look at how pervasive His grip on my mind has become. There have been times that i am screaming something inside my head while my body is carrying out the action, regardless of my own desires.

One of the most disturbing areas that He’s seeped into are my dreams. One of the worst dreams ever, surpassing the nightmares of my childhood, was directly related to my place as His slave.

In that dream:

We were O/p, nothing different than how things are now. Only something changed, and He decided that He wanted a newer, younger, sleeker new piece of property to own. He was going to release me. i had outlived my usefulness to Him. In this dream, He was cold and aloof, very matter-of-fact and absolutely relentless. He tells me of the new future as she is bringing her belongings into the bedroom i shared with Him. He is not swayed by my tears of pain and anguish.

Now this is where i started to feel terrified of where i was going. Instead of telling Him where He could send the first child support checking and decking the bitch on the way out, i fell to my knees and begged Him to keep me, even as the governess or housemaid. i begged for Him to let me slep at His feet. i begged Him to not take the kids from me.

i fucking begged Him to not make me leave my children. This is where my mind screams WTF!!!

In the dream, He agrees to keep me on, but only in the form of governess, and that i may never reveal to the kids that i am their mother. i was sobbing and my heart ached, but i agreed. i couldn’t bear the thought of being ripped not only from our kids, but also from His side.

When i woke up, the first thing i did was choke back a sob to not wake Him up and curl up tightly against His back, breathing in His sleep-scent and calming myself by matching His breathing pattern. i calmed back down, but i didn’t fall asleep again.

This dream haunts me for a few reasons. One, it was terrifying. Two, i didn’t respond as i would like to. i didn’t walk, i didn’t call Him a few names and maybe get a punch in. i got down on my knees and pleaded for the chance to stay and serve. Three, the sheer lack of control over what He may bring in the future was pressed into my face until my nose bled.

They say dreams are a path to your subconcious, the unfiltered you. Gawd, i hope not. If that’s so, He’s got His grimy fingers stirring my inner core up and there isn’t much of me left unchanged. Some would say that’s an occasion to throw a party, “Oh look, He’s mastering your mind! You are internalizing His will! Hooray!”

Um, No. Yes, i am happy to become what He wants me to become, but it is also damn right scary. Once you go far enough down this rabbit hole, i don’t think there is ever a way back topside. He’s done enough imprinting on my psyche that there isn’t a pre-Owned tora left. Just varying degrees of owned tora now. What will i be in a few years? What i will be in a few decades?!

That is a sobering thought indeed.