the marks of a slave

eastern sun said:

"Sex is not about what you think you want. Sex is what I tell you to do."

I think an expression on my face gave my thoughts away.

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the things that come out of your Master's mouth sound an awful lot like the things that come out of mine sometimes. i can almost hear that in Master's voice.

I took another step toward what I need.

Maybe it won't be long now....

I was talking to H about getting laid, with great satisfaction, and he said "yeah, I really need to get laid maybe I'll see if I can hook up with someone at running club."

Now, he's got standing permission to date, fuck, etc. But there was something in the tone of - I can get laid any time I want. It was a challenge - a tug away. A moment of independence that simply will not do. It's good he's coming for a visit. A good chance to get the head sexually straight again - just because I'm not fucking him (or maybe I will) and just because he has permission to go get fucked doesn't translate into see I can get laid too, nyah nyah.

You fuck inasmuch as I decide you can. The leash is long, but it does still connect to your throat.

Netzach said:

You fuck inasmuch as I decide you can. The leash is long, but it does still connect to your throat.

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Mistress Netzach's words ... HOT
A prove that a leash does not have to be restrictive to be in place.


Sorry for the blurt ... I promise I have better contribution for this incredible thread ... as soon as I overcome my fear of not having anything good to say.
(this totally silly hijack should cure me of it ....)

*grins at rida*

I'm gearing up for the visit. Toying with H more on the phone. Wishing I had a large cage, actually. The last time he was out here I was having ovarian cyst surgery (sexy not) - the last time I saw him was a fun day in NYC but all business and basics - I haven't really worked him over in way way way too long.

It's next to impossible for me to be really really sadistic with M in the kind of free-range mode that I am with H. It's much more about mutuality and pleasure with M, the kinds of pain he likes in the dosages he likes with my own stylistic flourishes - this isn't slavery, but marriage with some violent good times. With M, if I lose my groove, as I kind of have, getting it back is a tentative process, fraught with my own insecurities. Because at root, no matter how much I try, I don't think I can ever exactly reconcile the tender adoration I have with M or T with my interest in seeing them bleed. It's always going to be a thorny, harsh, strange place to be lost, and I'm never going to be at ease with it - it's the greatest vulnerability I have. There is always some small squeaky little girl voice at the back of my head that says but if I did that you'd leave me and then I'd be nothing.

Well, that's pretty pathetic, isn't it?

It's not all pathos and vulnerability either. The marital groove has had downs and has huge ups, but as this growth has happened SM has been less and less urgent a priority. It's a sexual condiment, as I think it is for many. The D/s is a quiet shaking out of how things are, but not something actively constructed. And as often as not I find myself acquiescing, bending, changing, just as much as he does.

With H, I think it's not going to be hard at all. Violence and use are the natural order of things - glove to hand. Boom. I do let him know that in this regard, he IS the special one, and if that swells his head, so be it. He's not going anywhere.

Netzach said:

Well, that's pretty pathetic, isn't it?

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No. Not at all.

Human, real.

Netzach said:

Because at root, no matter how much I try, I don't think I can ever exactly reconcile the tender adoration I have with M or T with my interest in seeing them bleed.

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AWWW!

Some days I am completely without direction. I just let time pass and wait for an indication of my next action. I sometimes wonder what opportunity I've just let slip by as I sat passively watching the world unfold. What contact I might have had with other people. What progress I've stalled. But I rarely worry that I won't be needed soon.

I enjoy the peace. And the rest. And am often surprised when a secret reveals itself to me, like some unnoticed detail in my children's lives, or the collapse of a seldom used cupboard shelf. It reminds me of the times I've sat quietly in the woods and suddenly realized I'm surrounded by life. And everything is on the move but me.

And, finally, I'm off orgasm restriction.

I'm reminded that though it may be about life in all its myriad colors, I really got into this for the sex.

YEAH!! Congratulations! I am so happy for you. How long was it anyway? A month it seemed like. Probably felt like forever to you. I often find myself stopped, watching the busy world go by. In limbo. But if I had my own studio full of art supplies right around the corner (or close by) like you do. I would probably sit in there and seek some kind of direction, when I felt I had no direction. Instead I have the forest like you used to sit in. Right out my front door. So I go there and when in the forest all alone in secret secluded spot. I don't want, need or care to have any direction, I only need to enjoy that moment in time, and not think about other people at all.

He told me he was proud of me the other day.

I think it's the first time I've ever heard him tell me that. Suddenly, the sun seems to shine a little brighter. God, I'm turning into such a sentimentalist.

BiBunny said:

He told me he was proud of me the other day.

I think it's the first time I've ever heard him tell me that. Suddenly, the sun seems to shine a little brighter. God, I'm turning into such a sentimentalist.

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She's melting! She's melting! Oh, what a world!

satindesire said:

She's melting! She's melting! Oh, what a world!

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Hahahaha!

eastern sun said:

It has been tricky for me to realize that I don't stop existing without a "self" to hang onto. But we have always been happiest when the internal psychological structures and agenda-driven actions that I would call my everyday "self" are less solid and potentially obstructive.

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Nope you don't stop existing whether your self is given\lost to God or to some other Him or Her. The word vessel comes to mind. Oh how i love to hate that word.

ataxia.girl said:

Nope you don't stop existing whether your self is given\lost to God or to some other Him or Her. The word vessel comes to mind. Oh how i love to hate that word.

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I'm curious why you say this, ataxia.girl. Why do you hate that word? And why do you love to hate it?

********************************************************

I wrote this a while ago, but I think of it whenever I hear the word "vessel."

my body, in the hands of an artist
yields like clay to the pressure of his touch
I am formed by his skill
into the vessel for his passion
and thirstily I drink
his water

as my body, like clay,
holds the shape I've been given
space opens, deep and wide
to receive him
and I watch from a distance
as he presses inside and sets me
on fire

and my body, wet and hot
in the contours of his hands
defies gravity and rises
to the sound of his voice
dancing to his words
stormy, tempestuous
gasping for air

then my body, left behind
baking in the sun will grow hard
and beautiful
glazed in his furnace
or hard
and cracked
if the form was flawed
ready to be born again

as the artist who creates me
desires

*********************

As a young woman, I hated the word "vessel." I hated its implied emptiness. I couldn't see any value in being empty. None at all.

It made me think of my mother's "empty" smile (which wasn't really empty at all - just false and phony). Of some vague image of old-fashioned femininity, of woman as inherently incomplete, needing to be filled with the man she would adore.

I didn't buy it.

So how did I get to where I am today?

BiBunny said:

He told me he was proud of me the other day.

I think it's the first time I've ever heard him tell me that. Suddenly, the sun seems to shine a little brighter. God, I'm turning into such a sentimentalist.

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Can I ask how you made him proud? I could learn something from you, I'm sure.

Adakgirl said:

YEAH!! Congratulations! I am so happy for you. How long was it anyway?

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About six weeks. Not very long, really. Serijules made some really interesting comments in her "kinky bits" thread about orgasm restriction and sexual anger.

I'm going to try to link her comments, but I'm quite technologically challenged . . . . (hey, it seems to be working.)

If you haven't already, check out "Kinky Bits" It's good reading.

eastern sun said:

I wrote this a while ago, but I think of it whenever I hear the word "vessel."

my body, in the hands of an artist
yields like clay to the pressure of his touch
I am formed by his skill
into the vessel for his passion
and thirstily I drink
his water

as my body, like clay,
holds the shape I've been given
space opens, deep and wide
to receive him
and I watch from a distance
as he presses inside and sets me
on fire

and my body, wet and hot
in the contours of his hands
defies gravity and rises
to the sound of his voice
dancing to his words
stormy, tempestuous
gasping for air

then my body, left behind
baking in the sun will grow hard
and beautiful
glazed in his furnace
or hard
and cracked
if the form was flawed
ready to be born again

as the artist who creates me
desires

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This is beautiful. I love it.

satindesire said:

AWWW!

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Congratulations, satindesire. Childbirth and motherhood radically transformed my life.

But then, the first newborn I ever held was my own.

I wish you great joy and a good dose of patience.

"Look not for refuge to anyone beside yourself." (the Buddha's last words)

And accept help whenever it's offered.

eastern sun said:

I'm curious why you say this, ataxia.girl. Why do you hate that word? And why do you love to hate it?

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To be the vessel of a human man is one thing. i can feel him and communicate with him. To be their vessel thinking you are God's vessel is quite another.

i can understand fulfillment in being His vessel. i can understand how one could be fulfilled that way. i am not but i understand it.

i have escaped the patriarchy of my youth only to have not really escaped it and now run to my Daddy's arms periodically. How did i get where i am?

eastern sun said:

Can I ask how you made him proud? I could learn something from you, I'm sure.

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I'm not so sure about learning something from me, but I'll be glad to pass the story on. I've definitely learned a lot from you and this thread.

He knows I've struggled with this aspect of who I am for a long time. I finally asked him if I could serve him in full capacity as a house slave, instead of just as an occasional fucktoy pet, possibly with even the option to move in once my lease runs out, if we think it'll be a good fit come August.

He was proud of me for facing my fears about who and what I am and finally having the courage to admit that service fulfills me deeply. He was also proud of me for finally approaching him with it. It made me happy, too, honestly.

eastern sun said:

Congratulations, satindesire. Childbirth and motherhood radically transformed my life.

But then, the first newborn I ever held was my own.

I wish you great joy and a good dose of patience.

"Look not for refuge to anyone beside yourself." (the Buddha's last words)

And accept help whenever it's offered.

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Ooh, thank you sweetheart. My baby will be the first baby I'll ever have held as well.

I'm frightened and excited!

Sometimes a shower is just a shower. Sometimes a shower is part of an elaborate ritual in which this body is prepared like a feast for the eating.

Last night, I noticed that he'd fallen asleep while I put the kids to bed. It was his first day back at work after a six day break, and I know it was exhausting. Truthfully, I was glad. I was tired too. I had a good book. I wanted to read. I picked up my reading glasses, and turned off all the lights downstairs.

As soon as my knee touched the mattress, without even opening his eyes, he said "hi." "Oh, I thought you were asleep." "I was." And, with his eyes still closed, he smiled. "I better go bathe." "Yes. Do." "Ok." I put down my book and my glasses, and headed back downstairs to begin the ritual.

It's while I'm walking back up that I feel like a "slave." I am aware of every step, as I carry this well-cooked meal up the stairs. I feel good, I know he'll be pleased, but still a corner of my heart yearns for a quiet moment just to read.

I enter the room. He's fast asleep. And I carefully creep into bed, pick up my book, and read for an hour.

It isn't until I reach over him to turn out the bedside light that he wakes again. . .

ataxia.girl said:

To be the vessel of a human man is one thing. i can feel him and communicate with him. To be their vessel thinking you are God's vessel is quite another.

i can understand fulfillment in being His vessel. i can understand how one could be fulfilled that way. i am not but i understand it.

i have escaped the patriarchy of my youth only to have not really escaped it and now run to my Daddy's arms periodically. How did i get where i am?

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I don't equate being His vessel with being God's vessel.

A couple years ago, I started grappling with the whole His will vs. God's will dilemma. I was faced with a requirement to do something I felt uncomfortable with. And I started thinking, if I am doing His will but going against God's will, what the fuck am I doing?

I have come to believe since then that I cannot avoid God's will, no matter what He asks of me.

And neither can He. He is as much God's vessel as I am.

eastern sun said:

I don't equate being His vessel with being God's vessel.

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i have never equated the two. When i say to be their vessel i was not speaking of a man but of an organization which benefits men.