Life Beyond

A few discussions with some close friends have dragged up some stuff that I thought I had addressed from the upheaval that dominated my life at the end of April. I hadn’t even noticed it, but there were a few gems festering in my psyche, just waiting for the chance to break free from their bonds and run amok in my brain, making me appear to suffer from a case of emotional Tourrette’s.

The biggest one was another run at being abandoned. And it’s sadly hilarious that this would even be an issue for me, because I was so fucking good at denial that for ten years (at least!) I had myself convinced that despite all the indicators for abandonment fears, I was most certainly NOT a member of that large and infamous group of sufferers. Nope, not me. Baggage, yeah, but none about abandonment.

I should have been a politician, because those were some whoppers of lies I told myself all that time.

I am terrified of being replaced in N’s life. When I am confronted with a situation where my typical “job” or duty for Him is done by someone else on a regular basis I feel expendable and aimless, ripe for discarding.

Part of it is a section of self-esteem that hasn’t rose quite as quickly as the rest of it.

Part of it is the esteem I tend to hold Him in.

Part of it is the fatalistic pessimism that runs my life.

And a huge fucking part of it is the self-loathing and self-shame I still carry with me like a can tied to my tail from way back when I was seven.

Despite His assertion that He needs me just as much as I need Him, I can’t help but think someone as wonderful as Him does not deserve to be saddled with me. He’s hot, He’s smart, He’s funny, kind and one of the best people I have ever met. It is hard for me to accept the idea that He considers our relationship together to be on equal par as far as worth and deserving of each other. He deserves so much…and I don’t know if I will ever be enough.

He says I am.

God I just so desperately want to believe, to have the peace of mind a person has when they are secure in the knowledge that they are loved deeply and are worthy of that love…

And the worst thing is having to be on guard, knowing that if I don’t watch myself, I will destroy the very thing I cherish above nearly anything else. It will become a self-fulfilling prophecy because I will break everything apart so I don’t feel the anguish and terror of being left behind again.

Better leaving than being left. At least, in crazy land.

I know it takes time to change such deeply held beliefs. At some point in my life, I will declare myself worthy of love and affection from Him. I will stand up and be able to fully bask in the relationship we have nourished. I will be able to really hear Him when He says forever.

I won’t have hope anymore. I will have sincere conviction.

But it is so hard to have it there just beyond…so close. Like the forty year wait at the edge of Canaan, I can smell the milk and honey. But there are hardships and hard lessons to be learned before I can cross into the promised land of supreme happiness.

And there is a darkly humorous part of me that just has to laugh at the idea of me having to be right that I push the love of my life away, just so I can prove that He was going to leave anyways. See? Sick, dark morbid humor. At least I can still laugh at my stupidity. 😀

Spare the rod, Spoil the slave?

I have seen it often postulated here and there (read: FetLife) that a D/O/M that cherishes, protects and nurtures his slave is often too lax, too weak, not a real D/O/M. That if the D/O/M takes the time to reassure the slave how precious she is, that she is more than just another possession like the car, he will spoil her, make her soft and petulant, he will create his own pillow princess.

I used to think that too. It’s the cool thing, I guess, in many of the groups I haunt. Real mastery is being an Asshole all the time, brusquely crushing off the tears, fears and shame he creates, scoffing at the concept of love and adoration, maintaining a cold aloof presence, being a god merely tolerating the human foibles of the slave.

Whatta crocka shit. Fer Realz.

Given the last tectonic shift in the relationship between N and I, He’s been more open with how much I mean to Him. He’s caressed my hair unexpectedly, planted soft kisses on my forehead, crushed me to His chest and told me in a rumbly voice that I mean more than anything to Him. At first I was taken aback, and truthfully, I distrusted it. I thought it was a ploy to lull me back to apathy. The ol’ “Tell her she’s the best and she’ll finally stfu” that my ex always pulled.

Nope. Turns out, He means it.

And I soaked that shit up like the desert after a hard downpour. My heart blossomed like the agave after the rain. I knew going in that He wasn’t the kind of man to be sending flowers every month and declaring undying love every night. And while I don’t exact exhibit lovey-dovey behavior myself, I didn’t realize just how much I missed the occasional sweet touch/word/thought mixed amongst the pinches, names and actions.

I forgot what it was like to hear someone tell me how much they needed and loved me.

I’m a greedy bitch. I blame the Taurus in me, it makes me prone to gluttony and over-indulgence. So as long as He is willing to be a font of love and devotion, I’ll shower in it. I will dance in it, delight in it, and save it away for dry times again.

Anyway, to the premise of the post: Many D/O/Ms on FetLife would be falling over themselves to caution N that He’s spoiling me, that a slave should never know that her D/O/M needs her, loves her, cherishes her. They say it would ruin their mystique, lower themselves in her eyes, make them vulnerable to the slave. She’d never fear them anymore.

I find it a bit hard to swallow. I know full well N loves me deeply, cares for me passionately. This doesn’t make me adore Him less, fear Him less, it doesn’t devalue Him in my mind.

It actually make me strive harder to be found pleasing, to serve Him, to be at the top of my game. I have to be found worthy of such an Owner, to deserve the honor of serving and being owned by Him. Anything else would not be good enough for such a Man who found the time and bother to own me!

I think it is easier for me to being completely devoted to Him, to adore Him, to worship Him, if I know that He loves me and cares for me, appreciates the struggles and pain I go through to make myself what He wants from me.

It’s a blancing act, and I think we have found it. Good example:

Last night N wrapped me in some tight rope bondage and facedfucked me in various restricted positions before propping me up on my knees and directing me by my ponytail. I gagged, I drooled, I cried, I slumped and stiffened and panted. At one point He pulled my mouth off of His cock and I heaved, hard. It was obvious I had thrown up a little in my mouth and I swallowed rapidly to force it all back down. As soon as I had it back under some control I willingly opened my mouth and forced His cock back down my throat.

He yanked my head back hard and I flinched, expecting a slap or some harsh action.

Instead he planted a quick kiss on my forehead and murmured “Good girl, for going back down deep after that.” I think I was glowing bright enough to light the room. I wanted nothing more than to make Him happy and pleased with me.

Then He shoved my face back into His crotch until I gagged again.

True love, I’m tellin’ ya.

Like the Moon to the Sun

Those of you who know me on FetLife have probably seen my posts on a thread title ” I see you baby”. The thread is a support and suggestion thread for s-type and O-types alike who are trying to lose or gain weight. For most of my adult life I’ve struggled with my weight, and I think I have finally hit the point where I dig in my heels and take this bitch by the horns. A large part of my new-found resolve is from a shift in motivation for losing the pounds.

To make a long story short: I ballooned in my early twenties from being lazy, eating wrong and being on some seriously heavy-duty medications. Compounded with no self-esteem, ample self-loathing and the inability to understand/accept the idea of people being sexually attracted to me, I hid behind my extra flesh and soothed myself with extra calories. I had plenty of people telling me to lose weight, but never thought I was worth the effort.

Somehow over the span of five years I had three children and lost sixty pounds. It came about by a mixture of conscious eating,  moving my lard ass around more (chasing kids) and needing to be a good role model for my three boys. But the biggest and most profound change was that I had motivation. Real motivation. Motivation that I could get behind, that I could believe in. And it was that I was a reflection of my Owner.

 

I strive to be the best relfection I can be...

Sad to think that my Owner, a wonderful Man who, for as much as He can be a real ass, deserved a beautiful, curvy slave and He instead had me. What kind of reflection was I of Him? My abundant padding was testament to my inability to maintain my own discipline. I was weak, I was wasteful, and I was disappointed in myself. I strive to be the best for my Owner, and my body should be no different.

So I set about changing my attitudes towards food. Make no bones about it, this is an ongoing project, probably one for the rest of my life. I ask myself when considering a bad choice if this particular choice means more to me than being N’s ideal slave. Does this brownie help me achieve my goal? Does that extra slice of pumpernickel mean more to me than pleasing N? Sometimes I do well, sometimes I fall just short of the mark…but at this point in my life, I have resigned myself to the fact that the days of being ten pounds less at the end of a month are long gone. As long as the positive events well outnumber the negative I think I am doing well.

I’m still working on it, but now I am have some extra help. The lovely 635 from FetLife has kindly helped me out on refining my diet, and gave me a few workout suggestions to live by (or die by, from one of them :P) And I have that extra boost of willpower, that handy incentive when I can feel my drive being chipped away…

I am not saying that all fat slaves are bad reflections on their Owners. Not at all. Let me repeat that in bold for those of you who I know are going to want to get all pissy with me: I am not saying that all fat slaves are bad reflections on their Owners.  Some Owners like that. Some women like being that shape and mentality. My Owner is not one of them, and I am not the kind of woman who is happy when heavier. I believe that my Owner deserves what He wants, and what He wants is a woman who is curvy, toned and fit. I can be that, if I try. And I will damn well try, because He deserves whatever I can offer Him.

Also, if N wants a svelte slave, then He has every right to one. When I said He could have all of me, I meant it. If He wants less, than there will be less!

And the Getting is Good! (04-20-2010)

Battered but better.

So, it’s been awhile since i posted. i’ve been a busy slavebitch in a number of ways. He’s had me running from sun-up to sun-down, and then a bit beyond that.

i wrote my last post from a very insecure, anxious and torn up place. i have made my life as His slave my calling, the purpose of my life from which all things flow. i misinterpreted His actions of the last month as seeing me as an unnecessary part of His life,  an option, a tiresome obligation. A common saying is “Never make a person a priority when you are an option” and boy did that really get the mind running. i could feel it building and cracked down to squelch the feud. Resentment was rampant. Fury wasn’t far behind. i balked. i yelled, i cried, i turned away,  i retreated. He stood there and asked “What the fuck?!” He never went anywhere, and eventually i was forced to confront my issues and clue Him into the torturous maze of my mind. After a lot of heavy lifting and memories i would have rather not gone through, i finally hammered out an approach. We had it out. He mentally smacked me around a bit for being so obstinate and dense. i reminded Him that while yes, it’s good to be King, it ain’t as easy as it’s cracked up to be. There’s work involved, and when He decides to take a sabbatical, well, the property is bound to come undone a bit.

Basically, it boiled down to He had mentally gone away, and i was left to my own destructive devices. Then when He looked up and said “What the hell happened to you?!” i shrugged helplessly and said “You left.” It hurt to say it. It hurt to lower the pedestal He rests on. It hurt to accept that i am not a good enough slave for Him to be able to check out of the O/p shit for a few months and come back later to find me still running along right where He left me. It is what it is, yes, but it still hurts, and not in a good way.

Speaking of being hurt, i was. A lot. He whomped on me a few different times.  With lots of deliciously degrading sex, malicious molestation, intimately infiltrating my mind again. i’ll be writing that up for a different post. 🙂

Now He’s back. He’s been easing into the active presence in my life again. Rules are actually enforced again. When He tells me to shut up, He means it. He’s kept me busy in the evenings instead of letting me have full rein on my time. After having my life to myself, it’s a bit of an adjustment to have Him in full form again. Tongue and lips have been gnawed to keep unwelcome comments to myself. Ultimately, we will be better off for this.

i know it is hard for both of us when things break down like that. i am so very thankful that He is willing to put in the extra effort to put the pieces back to together when i fall apart and take everything with me.