Want vs. Will Do (04-15-2010)

i want to call Him and be crabby, petulant and snarly. Instead i write here and keep my mind busy with a game.

i want to avoid contact with Him and refuse to met His eyes. Instead i will look directly at Him and say “welcome Home” without adding “motherfucker” to the end.

i want to fight with Him, tangle with Him, to have my anger boil over. Instead, i will kneel at His feet and squeeze my eyes shut tight.

i want to accuse Him of many shallow things that aren’t true because i am hurt and can’t shed it. Instead, i will hold my tongue from falling out of my stupid head and learn restraint.

i want to give up on being His slave tonight and just pretend that my life doesn’t have to be this hard. Instead i will hope like fuck He knows what He is doing and swallow that bitter pill when i don’t get my way.

If i could wish for anything, it would be to find a way past this goddamn brick wall standing right in fucking front of me. i mean, two fucking weeks left and i still cannot let go. What is it that hurts me so about this situation? For a person who can never shut up and can often think of at least two synonyms for many words, why can’t i explain it to Him in a fashion that He will understand?

So instead, i will sit here, waiting for Him to come home. i will be quiet, i will be pensive, i will be timid because i can’t be what my brain screams for. i will swallow my gall, bear the burning stain of my misery and try to remember to breathe. As a slave, that’s all i really can do.

Warning: Not-very-good-slave behavior described within! (04-08-23010)

Now that i got that pesky warning out of the way, onto the subject matter for today.

i have been in a vicious headspace the past few days. Looking back, i would almost venture to say a week. i’ve been restless, snappish, tired and irritable. i’ve had completely random thoughts of deliberate disobedience pop into mind. i’ve (barely) bit back harsh names and ill-tempered insults hurled in His general direction. Seeing my weight shoot into the stratosphere hasn’t helped the mood. Seriously, i gained 10 pounds in one week.

i’m sure everyone else has already put the clues together, but i was at a loss as to why i felt this way. During my few lucid moments, i would look back at the day and wonder what the hell was wrong with me. i wanted to be a slave to this Man, so why was Him telling me to do the dishes leading to me sitting on my hands to not reach out and throttle Him? When i wasn’t suppressing the urge to scream at the top of my lungs and lunge for His throat, i was berating myself for being such a shitty slave. Two-fer special, ya dig.

Of course, in classic N style, His answer was to withdraw. Guaranteed to make me go from mildly pissed to homicidal in no time flat. If i start to come unraveled, He refuses to engage me. If i am unable to catch myself in time, i’ll totally come apart. Uncunted, in a horrible fashion. He’ll just ignore it, refuse to acknowledge the behavior, deny my urgings to engage on any kind of level with me. Once i’ve finally exhausted myself, lathered and heaving in a mental sense, He’ll saunter into my head and say “Done?” i know the outcome every time, but i still get absolutely furious when He does it. Could it be done some other way? i dunno. i’m not the one in charge of finding out, and i am not sure if He does it this way because He’s too fucking lazy to figure out a more effective tactic or He really thinks this will get us somewhere.

So. Anyway.

i had gone through the trouble of writing a blow-by-blow account of the argument that ensued after i came home and got ready for bed. Then i deleted it. It doesn’t really matter, honestly. i can sum it up for you pretty damn easily:

Tipsy, PMS-‘ing slave comes home and gets ready to crawl into bed, Owner starts acting like a passive-aggressive whiner (excuse me, Whiner), lectures said slave about something slave doesn’t really give a flying fuck about, Owner kills the buzz theĀ  slave was enjoying, slave lashes out at Owner, who’s smug “neener-neener” attitude digs at her more than Glenn Beck, Owner doesn’t really answer any of the retaliatory questions slave has, both go to bed irritated and suppressing the urge to smother the other.

Last night, i said to my friend that we were both too fucking stubborn to leave. i’m pretty sure i was right. i also said that one of us would end up dead before the relationship ended. i’m pretty sure i was right about that, too.

The fact that He didn’t reach over and smack the shit out of me is either a testament to His patience or a sign of apathy. The fact that i didn’t beat the fuck out of Him is either a sign of my devotion to Him or my immense stupidity. i haven’t figured out which one it was for either of us yet.

i foresee a tense regrouping in my future. Battle lines are being drawn, walls are being buttressed. i can feel that stupidity in me, multiplying, crowding out the logical thoughts, urging a coup, wanting to wage war. My teeth are gritted, muscles clenched with stress, desperately working to overcome this uprising in my head. i don’t know if i will win.

i read a saying the other day on FetLife that resonated with me: every Master gets exactly the slave he deserves. i’m going to try and keep that in mind as i work so frantically to quell these thoughts. Because, if the dam should break and i finally lose it, i won’t stand alone in the rubble and shoulder all the responsibility myself. Nuh-uh. There have been warning signs of impending collapse. Shots across the bow. Statements of intent. If The Man doesn’t deign to assist me in keeping my shit together, doesn’t see a need to reinforce the dynamic as He wants it, well, then:

Every Master gets exactly the slave he deserves.

Patience, grasshopper. (04-04-2010)

The Man has been lazy lately. i am totally justified in saying that. He works all day, He goes and plays/works outside after work until the kids need to go to bed, then He comes in and does the bills or watches tv. Then it is our bedtime. It isn’t in physical activity that He’s been slacking. It’s been in the physical mastering and forceful subjugation He’s less enamored with. When we started figuring out what we both wanted, we discovered that i wanted the pain play as much as He wanted to give it. Even with the kids, we found time to indulge both of our desires. Recently, He has felt the urge to beat me less and less, so i’ve been scrambling to learn a new way to squelch the seething need to be taken down and reduced to sniveling pile of sore bitch-flesh. (See that line made me hawt. That’s how hard-up i am.) i’ve asked for a session, i’ve begged. He has no interest in it, so i have accepted that He isn’t in that head-space. Not graciously, not without a little bitterness and cuntishness. Right now, all i can give is the acceptance. i have no way of knowing if i will ever feel the lash of His belt or the punch of the flogger handle. This kills me a little, not knowing where He is taking me. i understand in my mind that His will overrides mine, but in my heart (my slavie heart *snicker*) i rail against it. i don’t want to accept it, i want a good solid beating and some rough sex to finish me off. Can i subjugate that desire? Can i beat the tiger into the cage again? i am going to have to learn, because i don’t see the drought easing up.

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.

Did I mention we are weird? (09-08-2010)

So the past Monday morning started off weird for all sorts of reasons. The Man didn’t have work, the oldest kidlet didn’t have school, my brother has spent the night, and I was leaving mid-morning to go workout. Without any rugrats. (It was a weird and liberating feeling.) I got breakfast provided for the family and quickly hopped into the shower while everyone else was eating. N had been in and out of the bathroom while I showered, using the facilities and then putting His contacts in. On the second trip in, He suddenly slid open the shower door and grinned at me. It was cold and I was a bit torqued that He was letting in all this freezing air.

“I have to piss” He said.

That’s all I needed to hear. I dropped to my knees at the edge of the tub, arms crossed under my breasts, pressing my breasts up and together for Him, my mouth open (but my tongue curled up to block my throat), eyes shut. This is the mandatory pissing-post pose. Yes I just made that term up, but hey, there you go.

I wasn’t irritated anymore. I wasn’t rushing through my mental planner trying to ensure I didn’t forget anything. I was just a slave in the tub waiting to be pissed on, waiting to be marked, reduced, claimed and loved.

I just was.

As His piss washed over me and I heard the slight sigh stream from His lips, I melted a little more into the floor. There is nothing like being pissed on, in my mind. It’s fraught with tangled emotions, negative connotations, distaste and shame. When He pisses on me, I feel completely free to be nothing more than His slave for that moment. To embrace the warmth of His fluid, smell His very unique scent, to receive something no other has ever earned the right to. I feel His ownership flow over my skin and the essence of Him soak in.

I can’t say I was this ecstatic about being His when He pressed His still pissy dick into my mouth and said “Suck it”. But I did, wincing as the strong bitter taste spread across my tongue, making me work harder to find that pleasure one gets from really stripping the life out of a man through his cock. And suddenly He was there, waiting, trembling, before He let out a groan and filled my mouth with a new salty taste that I hastily swallowed before it made me gag. And as I cleaned Him off with my tongue, He smiled down at me and said “Thank you, slave.”

No Monday morning could ever be bad when I start it with His piss running down my face and chest and His cum warming my belly.